Crimbo bells, Batman smells, Robin lays an egg (yuck)..

Hey there folks.

Been a long time eh? It seems that the suckitude and the blodelays (the latter is a new word... means delays in updating one's blog... the former is attributable to a fellow blogger) is going to continue in future. Sorry guys. I just don't feel like updating that often anymore. Possibly because of the fact that there's not that many interesting things to talk about anymore in my life. Of course, I could talk about politics (or how the world is going to hell in a handbasket), but I'm feeling a little too shallow for all that heavy stuff right now. My teeny-weeny brain just shuts down whenever one mentions the word 'geo-political'. This does not bode well for the future.

Anyway, as I promised Farah that I'd post the results of my recent culinary experiments on the web, here's some pics of my version of Beef Braciole with handmade linguini pasta and chickpeas.

Work in progress. Yes, I know, there's only one piece of beef in there. As you probably know very well, I don't think i'llbe cooking for more than one person for at least the next 1.5 years.

The end product. I must say I think the sauce was delish! =)

Till later folks.

.:Damn you, Murphy. Damn you to Heck!:.

[I don’t know why I have this sudden urge to write something in Malay. I’m never the most comfortable using the language as a medium of expression, especially so in written terms. Bear with me]

Hari ni ada kisah sedih berlaku.

Macam biasalah, aku pi breakfast kat mamak belakang IMC tu. Yelah, after the morning meeting and duties dah abis, ada la window of about 20-30 mins, so boleh la isi perut and buang isi perut during that time. So, lepas makan, aku dengan bersahajanya (casually) membawa diri ke lobi lif.

[Oh man, that’s just too much effort. The rest of the story will be in English. Not to degrade the language or anything (in fact, I think it is one of the most expressive languages around), but you’re reading the ramblings of a person who had to go for “Kelas Pemulihan Rumusan” back in his MRSM days. I don’t think anyone should be put through that horror, period.]

So there I was, about to enter a jam-packed lift. As I walked in, I noticed that the floors 7,8,9, 11 and 12 were lit up. I pressed the level 18 button and prepared myself for a relatively long lift journey. Little did I know...

Being right smack in front of everyone, I naturally walked out of the lift at the 7th floor, assuming some of those behind me wanted to go out at that floor. As it turned out, only one solitary girl stepped out of the lift. I then turned around to step back in the lift.

Malaysians, being Malaysians, are unfamiliar, I suppose, with the concept of courtesy. Zebra crossings, it must be said, do not facilitate pedestrians in Malaysia. In fact, it is positively a tourist death-trap. Do not ever assume that the car heading your way will slow down once you step foot on that yellow and white strip of death; it will, in all likelihood, speed up instead of slowing down.

Anyhow, as soon as I stepped out, someone in the lift had pressed the ‘Door Close’ button. Naturally I got stuck trying to come in again. No biggie. At the eighth floor, I stepped out again to let my fellow lift-hoggers through, assuming all the time of course that it is plainly visible that I was simply trying to be courteous.

But it was not to be.

Again, only one single girl stepped out. Again, some imbecile had pressed the ‘Close Doors’ button. Again I got stuck. Someone muttered, “he don’t know which floor la. Aiyoh…”

Hello? Isn’t it obvious that I had pressed the level 18 button?

I gave up trying to be courteous then.

Lo and behold! The rest of the pack then decided to jostle me around like a chicken in a coop along with 500 other feathery friends as they all made a rush to exit the lift at the next floor.

*sigh*

At least I’ve managed to prove Murphy right this time around.

.:Hot Co-Eds!!!:.

My dear Constant Reader,

I am so glad that the heading finally got your attention, old chap. It is, admittedly, rather not my style to be copying spam headlines in my email inbox as the title of a post, but nonetheless, it was my sincere wish to gain your inestimable attention that led me to do it. That, and the fact that the other choice was "17-inch pe*** extensions!!", which obviously will not work as well, if you do not mind me saying so.

I digress. The purpose of this post is to direct your attention to the setting up of my photopage at mayomyth.fotopages.com. I will hopefully be updating it as frequently as I do update this page (which means to say not very often, but I will try my best. Scout's honour and all that.)

I do hope you are keeping well, and I do hope to speak to you again soon. In the meantime, I remain,

Very affectionately yours,

Ahmad

.:Yadda yadda yadda (incoherent mumblings)...... yadda."

Has it been that long, dear readers? the difference between the date for today's post and teh date of the last post seems to confirm this sneaking suspicion of mine that it HAS been an eternity in blogging terms since I last updated (oh, I should SO be awarded the Nobel prize or the Booker prize or the "whatever-it-is-they-award-people-who-have-moments-of-staggering-mental-clarity" prize for that particularly brain-stretching conclusion).

Anyway, time really flies when you're having fun. Work's been, well, work. Tiring and unpleasant at times, a huge rush and fun TBH at other times. I've been spending more time with Farah in the last two months than I've ever had in the last year. She's a breath of fresh air in this dull life of mine. Pity she's leaving for dublin soon. *sigh* And back into cold storage for you, dear heart o' mine.

It was good to see Mel again; I'm glad I've actually made my peace with her, and we could be friends again. It was also great to see the gang again; my, how your close friends never really change, they just grow a little older (and broader) every time you see 'em.

Lately, I keep getting woken up several times at night, thinking it was already 6 am and it's time to go off to work. A quick check on the clock would usually reveal it was only 2.30am or something of that sort. This would usually repeat itself every half an hour till I get to 6 am.

Am I stressed out? I'm always under stress, anyway.

Am I depressed? I don't think so. I'm sad that farah's leaving, but I'm dealing with it.

Or am I?

Mood: Neutral
Reads: Sherlock Holmes (of all things) - Hey, it takes me back to my younger days... so buzz off!
Listens: Snow Patrol; "Run"

.:as you wish:.

Okay, time for more pics!

Farah and her relatives. Unfortunately, the only one I can remember now is Baiti (the one in white). Sorry, dear! (note to self: must draw family tree with pictures of each person. Must do this ASAP to avoid future embarassing moments)

Anticlockwise from right: Farah, mum, myself and Baiti.

The light of my life. (As Joe would say... "mamat ni jiwang karat siott!")

Clockwise from left: moi, Papa, Mama, Farah and Sarah (my sis).

That's all folks! (Okay, there are more pics, but most of em are of Farah, and I think you guys won't appreciate that as much as I would, right? =P)

.:Guilt trips:.

Hello, folks. It's been a little tough lately, with SY being on maternity leave and most of the team being out marketing. Oh, not to mention the fact that YT has left the team to join Lion Cap in Singapore. I do miss him sometimes, in an entirely platonic way, of course.

As promised, here are some pictures of the engagement ceremony.
My dad (in green) with the rest of the convoy. Although I wasn't (technically) supposed to be there, I came along anyway. Pining hearts and all that jazz, ya know.

Aahh... here she comes...

The obligatory mother-in-law hug (of death/destruction/love*) * delete where appropriate. (Obviously love in this case, of course =P)

A new one for me, this. This is the 'menyuap gula' ceremony... whereby the relatives (on both sides) feed the future bride a spoonful of sugar each. Considering that there were upwards of 80 relatives that day, this would probably be the reason why Malaysia experienced a sudden sugar shortage in early July, as reported by major newspapers.

One ring to rule them all... Habib Jewels, on the other hand, would be far happier with at least three to four rings to rule them all, I think.

More in the next post..

.:In the meantime:.

I am now officially engaged. However, pictures will only be posted as soon as I get my hands on them, which unfortunately will not happen anytime soon-ish.

So in the meantime, let us stick to the World Cup-mania sweeping the globe, by reproducing some quotes for your intellectual consumption:

"Home advantage gives you an advantage" - Sir Bobby Robson, former manager of Barcelona, Newcastle & England.

"... and the news from Guadalajara where the heat is 96 degrees Fahrenheit is that Falcao is warming up..." - Brian Moore, commentator.

"I don't think there is anybody bigger or smaller than Maradona." - Kevin Keegan, ex-player and manager of Newcastle, England & Manchester City.

"Very few of us have any idea whatsoever of what life is like living in a goldfish bowl, except of course, for those of us who are goldfish.' - Graham Taylor, former Watford & England manager, a.k.a. (rather cruelly) the Turnip.

Enjoy!

.:TMOASU (fn):.

The Mother Of All Screw-Ups (for now).

I'm so tired I can't even begin to describe what went wrong last night. Suffice to ssay I got an earful today, thankfully dulled by my half-awake senses. And all this due to myself going home 'early' (read: 1.15 am).

FYI all this is made worse by the fact that the person who is as responsible for the cock-up as myself is not here this morning. So in effect, I have to take the fall.

*sigh*

A good way to start your day. Oh well. Accipere quam facere praestat injuriam.

.:A warning to the curious:.

It is 12.22 am. Do you know where your RA's are?

.:Update:.

At midnight, I am still here in the office.

.:What we need:.

I am stuck in the office at 10:30pm. Not doing much, to be honest. Just sitting here, waiting for a report to be published. I tell you, GRCM is nothing but the devil in disguise, its sole aim and purpose in life being to make the lives of RAs and analysts as tough and as challenging as possible. If only I could give the DTP and SA teams a kick on their collective behind... just once. Okay? I won't ask for anything else for the next 10 zillion years, if only I could take a swing at that tantalisingly swaying toosh... please? pretty please? with a cherry on top? A REALLY big cherry even??

Come to think of it, there're still so many things I've yet to achieve with my life that I don't think I'd wish to shorten it by any amount of years simply for the pleasure of socking it to the authorities. Nor am I so self-sufficient as to not require any divine intervention for the next 10 zillion years, assuming I live that long.

*sigh* The pain of being a self-doubting critic.

Quote of the day:

'"You zee" said he, "it iz te bess vor zit still; and now you shall know who I be. Look at me! Zee! I am te Angel ov te Odd."

"And odd enough, too," I ventured to reply; "but I was always under the impression that an angel had wings."

"Te wing! vat vud I do mit te wing? Mein Gott! Do you take me vor a schicken??"'

- Poe, The Angel of the Odd

.:I mutter, therefore I am (slightly):.

You know, I could actually begin (for the umpteenth time) by apologising to you, dear readers, for the lack of updates; and appealing to your gentle sensitivities for some understanding as to why I have not, in all honesty, been paying much attention to my blog @ CNA (channel news Ahmad) @ about the only way you can keep track of me, unless you're: (a) Farah (b) My parents (c) close friends (d) a stalker (Please delete where appropriate).

But I won't do that. ("Boy, that was a long-winded way to say something" - Internal Editor @ Resident conspiracy theorist)

Anyway, my brains are (yes, I have two brains, if you must ask, you pedantic muppet) officially stir-fried to heck. Results season went by without a hitch (albeit the majority of them came out last minute, by which time I was already on my CFA study leave, leaving Yiits with all the work - and for that I do *snicker* apologise*snicker*). I've got models to finish, reports to write, things to do. Plenty of things to do, but I can't really be bothered about them now. For you see, I am getting engaged.

Yes. Repeat after me. E-N-G-A-G-E-D. On the 1st of July. Insya-Allah.

Yes. Almost exactly one year to the day the shit hit the fan, I'm finding myself pleasantly bemused by the sight of so many diamond rings on display at Habib Jewels, while the salesman/saleswoman continues his pleasant and affable chatter just so he could wrangle as much of my hard-earned cash as possible out of my back pocket. I must admit, I know absolutely boll**ks about diamonds, but with so many friends already engaged and married, that should not be too much of a problem.

There is no feeling like it, you know? When she laughs, it is as if the world stands still for a second and all you can hear is the pleasant tinkling of bells in the distance, the delighted murmur of a brook gurgling in your back garden, the gentle breeze on a hot summers' day. All that is pleasant is she, and you are blind to her faults. Indeed, if the love is requited, she would be blind to yours too. It is a ridiculous thing, love. You do foolish things, you cut your heart to pieces, you pine for her all the time without fail. Your world seems desolate without her by your side. And then you're together, and you're sated, satisfied, happy. But for how long? One day, you will be separated, either by fate, or by the impenetrable boundaries that separate this world from the next. You know that. Deep in your heart you know that. But you still love her. Why?

Because, dear fool, love is madness. It is the triumph of the imagination over intelligence. To fear love is to fear life, and to fear life is to already be dead.

(Editor - "you sure you're not on drugs?")

.:I need a sofa:.

I feel like doing some interior decoration.

But I don't really want to blow a lot of dough on it. After all, The place is only a rental. And to redecorate the living room according to my taste would mean, well... at least a sofa with clean, crisp lines, probably covered in neutral beige rough cloth-sack fabric with brown cushions laced with a black cloth down one of the sides. Oh and a coffee table, dark pine/black perhaps with straight legs and concealed-pullout magazine rack down the sides. Oh and an off-white porcelain bowl in the middle of the table with a small-ish potted plant, with black/white pebbles covering the earth. Oh and a floor-standing reading lamp with adjustable xenon/soft-light bulbs. Oh and maybe a wicker one seater couch by the window, and a comfy side table by its side with some books. Maybe some small-ish paintings/malay/islamic culture pieces in a big-ass black wooden frame with focused lighting on the walls.

Oh man, this is a bit too metro for me. Not to mention expensive. Forget it.

.:Irony:.

"Always forgive your enemies, but never forget their names"

- Robert Kennedy.

But what if you never knew their names in the first place?

.:of hearts:.

What's this?
This.. is a tired heart
It
seems to miss you
more than ever before.

What's that?
That... was a life
which I called my own,
bent
but now unravelled
I owe you for that, you know?

What are those?
Those... were the ashes
of my faith
burnt to the ground
but I remained
unbowed.

What are these?
These... are my hands
that I offer to you
in return
for saving
me.

.:Mortality:.

My grandmother(Atok Mak, on my dad's side) passed away on Tuesday evening. I received the message that she was critically ill after I got back from Tanjung Bin on a company visit; about half an hour later, I got the message from my mom that she had passed away. Innalillahi wa innailaihiraji'un. To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return.

I went to Mak Andak's house straight after, where her body was already being cleaned and prepared for burial. I kissed my grandmother one last time, remembering how she used to cook pots of rendang for us, while my late grandfather, Haji Ramli, would teach us kids how to properly cook ketupat in the backyard. I remember once when I was the only one who remained by his side to cook the ketupat, when the rest of the cousins trooped in to watch TV or something. He then taught me how to build a bonfire with a few matches and some kindling. I miss him so much, and now, I realise that I'll miss my grandma too. Time passes. Nothing ever stays the same. If I had it my way, I would've loved to spend the rest of my life stuck permanently in 1988, when I was an innocent wide-eyed kid, unexposed to the passions, the treachery, the complexity and the ultimate mortality of human life. My dad was then my hero (he still is, but from a different point of view), my Atok Bah my source of stories and adventure and Makwe was still strong enough to chase after us when we broke one of her flower pots while playing football.

Try as I might, though, I could never stop the irreversible onslaught of time.

I carried Atok Mak's body to the wash-basin, where she would receive the final cleansing before she is wrapped in the kain kapan or the funeral shroud. Where in life she was a formidable woman, having raised 14 children, in death she was as light as a feather. After the jenazah prayer, we took her to the cemetery, where I did what I could as her grandchild, helping the others pile earth into her grave. I left her after the talqin, under six feet of earth, with the prayers of her children and descendants to keep her company until the Day of Judgment.

Al Fatihah.

Every soul shall have a taste of death: And only on the Day of Judgment shall you be paid your full recompense. Only he who is saved far from the Fire and admitted to the Garden will have attained the object of Life: For the life of this world is but goods and chattels of deception. Ye shall certainly be tried and tested in your possessions and in your personal selves; and ye shall certainly Hear much that will grieve you, from those who received the Book before you and from those who worship many gods. But if ye persevere patiently, and guard against evil,-then that will be a determining factor in all affairs. (The Glorious Quran, Ali-Imran, 185-186)

.:Melaka:.

It's always good to be back in my hometown. I think the place where we had our first memorable skinned-knee, the first crush, the first jeer from your male friends subsequent to finding out about that crush, the first (and last) time one fell into the school toilet (don't ask me how that particular one happened, okay? All I can say is, I was particularly skinny when I was a kid). It's nice. Brings back the memories, the construct of your current persona, the building blocks of your psyche, the ruminations of an undigested (and probably as yet unfulfilled) dream. They are what eggs us on, what keeps us awake at night, what makes us cry, what spurs us forward, what sets us back. A memory is a double-edged sword. For instance, you swear that you'll never get hurt the way you did before, that you'll learn from your mistakes, that you'll never put yourself in such a position. But then you remember how good it felt to be loved, how at one point in time, you were happy. Then you sort of forget that the sword cuts both ways, and wham! you're back in the groove.

Esoteric? perhaps. Meaningless babble? More than likely.

Laters.

.:Of Dublin II:.

Back again. I've got fifteen minutes before lunchtime officially ends. So let me just continue with the slideshow of the Dublin trip.(I realise some of you may be bored to death already; feel free to jump out the window provided on your right: note, however, that you may feel some unavoidable discomfort upon landing) =P

Farah loves this picture. It's a bit too orangey for me, but it's still a nice picture nonetheless. From left, Shih Hi (betul ke my spelling ni??), Syikin, Farah, moi. Taken on the night of a thousand questions (as opposed to the infamous Night of the Thousand Knives, thank God), where I was quizzed and probed to no end by all and sundry. Questions ranged from "how did you get to know Farah?" to "What did you say you drove again? And this is your first job? And this is possible, how?" (to which I would respond by relating bits and pieces of THAT old story). Oh, and my all-time personal favourite: "Bila nak kawin?". Charming.

Later that night, when the party has died down a bit.



On the way back to Dublin from bray, we (or rather, I) decided that it was far too cold to be waiting for a bus. So we (or rather, I) paid for four tickets and boarded the DART (Dublin Automated Rail Transit - I think) bound for the City centre. So i guess you can safely say that i've lost all my ability to resist the cold. Or maybe I'm just too thin. Farah, you know what you need to do, dear...

... lend me your gloves! Note that by this time, all self-conjured macho delusions had evaporated. That tends to happen when one wears furry gloves. Especially when your girlfriend lends it to you.

Time's up! Will continue later dudes & dudettes!

.:Of Dublin:.

I know I promised to tell you more about my CDG experience, but I think I'll dedicate the next entry to my dear Farah. She's been my inspiration for the past six months since I've known her. A wonderful woman indeed, she's the kind of person that could make even the dullest of days a cheery one with her smile and her laughter. I truly enjoyed my short stay in Dublin, getting to know the city, the people and in particular, Ms Farah herself. Here are some pics for your viewing pleasure:


That's me in front of Dublin Castle. Well, it's not much in terms of size (I've seen bigger manors in England), but it certainly beats the competition when it comes to history and culture. Did you know that the word Dublin is actually a bastardised version of the Gaelic word meaning "black water", which is the name of the river feeding the moat surrounding Dublin Castle? Well, now you know.

The interior of Dublin Castle. This is the Drawing Room.



One of the main corridors within the castle. Note the golden gilds surrounding the ceiling.

This is the main chandelier in the Throne Room. Interestingly, the bronze detail (unclear in the photo) contain references to all four British Isles members of the United Kingdom: the English rose, the Scottish thistle, the Irish shamrock and the Welsh ermm.. leek. Sheesh.

That's Farah on my left. I had just arrived in Dublin that day. She adores the colour pink, by the way. An incredibly useless fact to you readers, I know, but I just thought I'd share it anyway. =)

I arrived on St patrick's Day weekend, so there were plenty of street carnivals, shows and funfairs. After visiting Dublin Castle, we took a leisurely stroll to an area near Trinity College, where a funfair with rollercoaster rides and various other instruments of gravity-induced pleasure (or pain in my case)was being held. You should've seen her eyes gleam with excitement (and I suspect, a certain amount of naughtiness). I somehow found myself dragged onto a ride five minutes later; the next thirty seconds of stomach-churning circular motion were quite uncomfortable for yours truly, I assure you.

On our way to Bray; from far left: Anep (I stayed with him for a couple of days. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place dude!), Eileen, Ja, myself. We were looking forward to a nice picnic by the beach, but the weather, being British in nature, wasn't exactly being cooperative. In fact, I nearly froze my boll**ks off. It was the coldest picnic I've ever had, but the food was excellent, the company was superb.. I couldn't have had any complaints, really.

Farah on the way to Bray. Words fail me. *sigh*

At the seaside town of Bray. The town seemed rather surreal. They were taking down the rides (St Pat's Day weekend was already over) and people were shutting themselves indoors as it was waay too cold to be venturing out. So there we were, a couple of Malaysians, walking on the promenade, with nothing but a few mad joggers and their equally crazed dogs for company. It seemed rather sad, like an old town falling sleepily into decay. Having said that, the constant litany of jokes and laughter by my companions cheered me up immensely whenever such morose thoughts began dominating my mind.

"Honey, why are you keeping your hands in your pockets? Are your hands cold?"
"No dear, I'm just using my hands to keep my nuts warm.."
"Oh..."

Oopss.. my lunch hour's over. Need to get back to work. I'll continue later, people. Take care!



Latest reads: "Do Not Pass Go" by Tim Moore.
Latest tunes: Vivaldi, The Four Seasons.

.:So it begins... again:.

Well, I'm back, folks. From my Dublin trip, in case you missed the last entry. Which I hope you didn't. I think.

Ahh... I guess your life would be so much the merrier without my stammering banter eh? The stutteringly apologetic nature of my intellectually numb mutterings must simply be torture to your oh so delicate temperament. Forgive me, dear readers, I simply must go on, in this stymied fashion of mine, if simply to cure this urge to shout at the top of my lungs from the top of Petronas Twin Towers to the rest of the world: "Oi! Aku ni still alive lah!!"

Not that anyone will hear it, not all the way from the top of the tower's spire. I'm more likely to be zapped by lightning on a clear & sunny day there than be heard by the minions thronging below.

Sorry folks... I don't know what got into me today. I didn't sleep much last night. In fact, I don't really know how long I slept. All I know is that I was tossing and turning from about 10 pm till 1 am, got up to take a leak and swallow a sackful of sedatives enough to knock out a really big orangutan, tossed and turned again despite being smaller than said orangutan, decided at 3 am to try the ultimate sedative (reading my CFA study pack lying down on the bed... the Ethics portion, no less), called it quits within ten minutes after the apparently redundant Ethics bit pissed me off to no end, called Farah and chatted for a bit, tossed and turned again till about 4.30, I think, and then it all went blank till about 5.30 am when the alarm buzzed and pulled me, kicking and screaming, from that blissful land called Dreamland.

I wonder how my English teachers would have reacted to that extremely long sentence filled with what seemed to be an endless procession of commas. To Mr Wong, Ms Chan and Mr Fellender, I sincerely apologise for causing you much grief. And to Mr Woods, well, I'm sorry, but causing you grief is just too much fun.

Anyway, forget the ramblings, and let us return to the story at hand, old chap.

My trip to Dublin started off nicely. Took a train to KLIA and arrived in good time to meet up with my parents who had insisted on seeing me off. I was wondering why they wanted to see me off. Little did I realise that in my mother's eyes, I'm still the awkward 13 year old who still needed help packing his bags, instead of the less awkward 25 year old (who still needed help packing his bags now and again); to my horror, she began unzipping my bag, revealing in its full glory my polka dot boxers (to my credit, they were manly dots - "shooting target circles, dude! They can't get any more macho!" said the snivelling salesman) to the gasping (and no doubt horrified - "Mothers, shield your daughters!!") public. She then proceeded to rearrange all the stuff, revealing my facial toner, my heel buff, my hair dryer and the red stiletto I put on during the weekends when I feel in the mood. All traces of the male macho character that I have struggled to portray all this while had vanished by then.

Admittedly, though, her rearrangements were much better than my original "toss-in-all-you-can-grab-with-two-hands-and-then-some" approach. It even made finding that stiletto rather easy. Thanks, Mama! You know I love you!*

More to follow... including my adventures in entering Charles De Gaulle (oh please... Airport, you pervert), and my brilliant encounter/mental debate with an Irish racist. Oh, and pictures. Lots of pictures for you salivating mob.


*For the benefit of those who may not appreciate my perverse (not to mention pervert-ed) sense of humour, I would like to stress that I don't wear stilettos. Not red ones at least.**
**See above, minus the last sentence.

.:Updates:.

Well.. the results season is over. I’m supposed to be working on my PBB Oil model, but to be honest I can’t really be bothered to do it. It’s almost done, anyway, apart from linking up the ACE sheet and getting my forecast assumptions fine-tuned, which would mean I need to call up the company, but then again they won’t be in till Monday, so I…

Ooopss. Sorry… got a bit carried away there. Work’s been occupying my mind, as you can very well see. I’m tired. So tired. I’m so glad my week-long vacation’s coming up. I’ll be off to Dublin, people. So if anyone wants anything, you’d better hurry up and give me a call, before I change my mind (or change my phone number).

Yes I will be changing phone numbers; well, at least for the fixed line. Not because I’m being stalked or anything. It’s just that I’ll be moving out soon. I’ve got a new place off Jalan Kuching, in Sri Putramas. The place is good enough for me considering it’s a rental. It’s much more secure too compared to my old place.

Things have been on the up for me. Getting more involved in my work. Learning more and more each and every day. Never thought I’d be so happy so soon after the SWSNBN (or “she-who-shall-not-be-named” for those who need a refresher) fiasco. One thing that still bugs me though. I feel as if the whole entire 4 years was a complete blank. I have no good memory of the time. Admittedly, there were times when I was happy, when I was ecstatic even. But it’s all for naught, and now, although I don’t feel sad anymore, the cut went in too deep to fully heal just like that.

Alright. I’ll admit it. I’m scared. Scared of what the future holds. Scared that I’m not good enough for the job I’m holding now. Scared that I’ll never make it as an analyst. Scared that the person I love now won’t be the same anymore after a year or two (or three or four). Scared that I’ll have to face the same s**t all over again. Heck, it’s a wonder I can even get up in the mornings.

But as usual I’ll just get up and face these fears. I’ll look them in the eyes and stare them down, as I have stared down other challenges before. I may fail, and I may fall, but I will never fail to get up. My heart has been mangled, stabbed, shot, sliced, diced, shattered and mulched, but my spirit has never been broken. Insya-Allah.

As Farah would put it… “Chaiyok sayang!!” =)

Ps: This is probably just a result of male-form PMS, as Nads so eloquently put it over cvoffee yesterday

.:A trip down memory lane:.

Bumped into someone I haven’t met for a long time today. Fariz. A nice guy. A very nice guy. We used to play footie together when I was in LSE. We played our hearts out during the Nottingham games, but never did manage to get past the first round… I still remember his words, “Kita tak pernah lepas ni sebab kita semua tak tau membezakan antara shoot dan pass”. Wise words indeed. =)

Seriously though, seeing him brought back plenty of memories. To be honest, I haven’t given the matter much thought lately, but the knowledge that he was working in CSFB brought me shuddering back to reality. Suddenly I remembered the pain, suddenly I remembered how it hurt so bad… so bad. The days when I stood at a knife’s edge, between sanity and eternal damnation, as I stared down the dark abyss that stood beneath my 15th floor balcony.

But, with the pain came salvation. When all light had seemingly dimmed, when all hope had seemingly failed, in steps your true friends. The ones that had been happy for you when you were happy, and the ones that backed you up when you were down. I remember Yazmin and Azie driving down to Melaka to try and help me out. I remember Azie inviting me to her grandma’s birthday, just so I wouldn’t get so lonely on a weekend. I remember Nadia and Apai telling me that my-ex was just a teenager in an adult body and not worth my time. I remember Joe Azril insisting on going for dinner with me sometimes… even though I hadn’t seen him for ages. I remember Gosh calling me up for breakfast regularly, and watching EPL on the big flat-screen TV in the TNB control room. I remember Muiz and Aizat and Butet and me playing 2-on-2 football, something I’ve never done before, and later chatting the night away at a mamak stall in Sri Petaling.

I remember these things, and I feel like shedding a tear. Not out of sadness for what has happened, although indubitably it was really sad. No. The tears that I shed will be out of love for my friends, out of happiness for having these people in my life. I may not say it very often, guys, but I love you. I really do.

Thank you.

.:Ermm... whuzzat??:.

According to The Star today...

Amber Chia, famed Malaysian model, talking about her role in the upcoming moviePossessed: "I will be playing a model possessed by another model who had committed suicide."

Hmm... even in the afterlife she can't play anyone but herself.

Oh, be nice, Ahmad!

.:Back at work:.

Dear readers,

Alop!! How are you? Hope you guys enjoyed your long break from work. I just love Malaysia..It's the only country in the world where you can get multiple holidays all crowded together, like sardines in a.. errmm.. sardine can.

damn it.. I need to work on my metaphors if I'm ever gonna make it as a yuppie writer-wannabe.

I'm back at my desk, people. For the first time in a long while, I'm actually happy to start the day. I realised this morning that I'm actually in a good place. Okay, apart from the fact that my apartment block is none-too-safe (what with the burglaries and muggings recently and the weirdly-affectionate guy on the seventh floor - who I've not bumped into for a long time, thankfully), other things are going great. Personal life's sorted out (I'm madly in love again. yes, Nadia.. Yes, Min... I know, I know. I can't help it. When I love, I really do love. It's never a lukewarm thing when it comes to me... maybe it's just due to the Italian blood flowing through my veins - uwekk!!). Job's going great (though a payrise would be most welcome.. ehem..). I'm pretty healthy, I think, although the tummy could use a little less flab and a little more hard-bound muscle.. sigh... the burdens of a sedentary lifestyle.

Oh. I know something which could be worked on, actually. I miss my friends. I miss Gosh, Mizan, Dol, Nad, Apai, Min, Azie, Novan, Joe Azril, Apai (2), Muiz, Meon, Mouse, Aizat etc etc.. Haven't seen them for some time. Some of them I'll be seeing tonight for futsal, but the rest (especially the "Econs class" gang.. plus Azie and Novan), I'll probably have to work something out. Yeah, they've got families now. It just won't do to bother them with my bachelorly antics. Sigh... The burdens of being an emotionally-aware man.

By the way, my car (a.k.a. MBE7515 a.k.a. The Rebound a.k.a. Da Chick Magnet - according to joe) is permanently stabled in melaka now, till I find a better place to live in. Am now a little impaired in the mojo department (not that I need it, lah!)

It's great to be alive. =) Alhamdulillah.

See ya!

Regards,

Ahmad "I ain't got no blender!" Abdul-Halim

.:O the pain, the pain!:.

Note: This is an entry which has a lot to do with urine. If your disposition is of the rather more fragile nature, please feel free to navigate to another site, like google.com. Otherwise, just bear with me, and I'll try not to gross you out. No guarantees though.

Oh and the toilet's the first door on the left, should you feel the need to hurl.



Dear readers,

been a while huh? Sorry for the gap in posts. Been busy, the world moved around too fast etc etc and all the usual excuses. The fact of the matter is that I really didn't feel like blogging, maybe partly because I've found myself a great friend, who's a great sounding wall as well. You know who you are, dear.

Anyway, for the sake of those who keep track of me through this blog, I shall now attempt to summarize what's been happening over the past couple of weeks. Post-holiday blues crept up on me as soon as I resumed my desk duties soon after the holidays. Bumped into HER a couple of times on a single day, but I unsurprisingly felt that I wasn't missing much. Which was always a good sign. =P

Woke up the day before Raya Qurban intending to fast, as the sunnah indicated. I then somehow did not manage to eat anything nor have a single drop to drink for sahur. By lunchtime, I was feeling the familiar pangs of my renal colic disorder working its way towards ruining my day. Decided to leave by 5 pm and make my way home. By 7, I was in extreme pain. I decided then that I wasn't willing to spend the night in pain, but the problem was that my parents were not going to be able to come to KL to treat the damned thing, the next day being Raya and all. So what did I decide to do? I optimistically (or egotistically, being the macho man that I perceive myself to be, often only in times when I know I am SOO not that type) told myself that I could drive back to Melaka on my own after swallowing a couple of painkillers. Big mistake.

By the time I reached Serdang, I had to stop at each and every R&R just to lie back and groan in pain. Yes, it must not have been a very pretty sight, judging from the women hurrying away whenever they passed by my car and happened to glance inside at what seemed to be a man writhing and moaning. And grabbing his crotch. For good reasons of course. Honest!

All jokes aside, though, I was in so much pain I was afraid I was going to faint from the exhaustion. And let me assure you, fainting whilst driving is almost assuredly fatal. It was the scariest, not to mention most painful, period of my life.

Want to know how painful it was? Imagine, if you will, having a full bladder but being unable to pass urine. For hours. Add to that the pain similar but greater in magnitude to that you frequently experience when you run too fast too quickly, without a proper warm-up. You know, the throbbing pain you get on the sides of your abdomen. Yeah, THAT one. Once you've got an idea of what I'm talking about, you'll understand what I went through for three darned hours. (Yes it took me that long to drive back to Malacca, toll-to-toll).

I was glad, though, for I had the support of all the people I loved. My parents called me every half-hour, just to make sure I was okay. They waited at the Alor Gajah toll and gave me some jab on on the behind which knocked me out for the rest of the night. Farah called and messaged every so often... she was so worried at one point I thought she was about to cry.

Well, to cut a long story short, I'm now safe and sound. Went for a conference in S'pore from Wed to Friday, and am now in Malacca typing this. Oh, and my car's been fixed. It's almost as good as new now, but I ain't complaining. =)

Take care!

Regards,

Ahmad