Technology

Thursday, 25 June 2009 @ 12.35pm

I thought I lost Eddie yesterday. No, not in the sense that we were breaking up. He was out of range. I found him again after probably the most dreadful and panicky 30 minutes of my life. But then it got me thinking, where would we be without technology?

Eddie had to start work at 7am yesterday. When I woke him up, he was hot and feverish. He’d already complained of a sore throat the night before. When I left him in the living room before heading to my room, he was already coughing and sniffling. I told him not to go to work, and that I’d send him to the doctor to get an MC. He replied through his blocked nose, “Tho, tho…I habe to go.” The translation? “No, no…I have to go.”

When we reached Bangsar, he didn’t look good. I urged him to go to the doctor. No - He’s as stubborn as I am. I told him to try and get half day if he could. Before he walked off, he said, “Tho, tho…”

At 1pm, I was just about to get my lunch when he called. He couldn’t make it. He felt horrible and asked me to get him. I couldn’t. Trix is not like Mega. I couldn’t go as I pleased. There are rules at Trix. I apologised and he said he’ll ask a staff to take him. At 2.30pm, he called again and asked me to get him. He got an MC. I apologised again and said I could only pick him up after work. He said he’ll just sleep in the office till then.

At 4pm, as I was chatting to Ina through email, I mentioned to her that Eddie was sick and stranded at Bangsar till I could fetch him. She said that she was leaving work early and could pick him up and bring him to Trix. Great. I called Eddie. He didn’t answer. I tried again. The phone was switched off. I called the outlet. They told me he’d left. I freaked out. “Where did he go? How did he leave? I was supposed to pick him up! He has no transport and he’s not well.” The staff just kept saying, “Sorry ma’am.” And the panic began to set in…

I kept calling his phone. Sometimes it rang, but he didn’t pick up. But then it would go to voicemail. I was panicking. Where was he? How did he go? Is he ok? Ina told me to calm down and just keep trying. I called his friends. They haven’t heard from him. Shit. In my head, I was thinking I’d go to the outlet after work and search for him. If I couldn’t, then call his friend and find a way to trace him. If I couldn’t, then find friends who were nearby Bangsar. In all this time, I just kept calling and calling and calling. And each time, all I heard was the operator tell me that he’s not available. He finally picked up. He was asleep and grumpy. I immediately called Ina and his friends to alert them that he’s still in the office, asleep. The staff didn’t know he was in there.

The thought of not knowing where a person is, or how to get in contact with him is probably one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. You don’t know where they are, whether they’re ok, and how you’re going to get in contact with them.

That got me thinking…how did we manage without technology before this? How could we go about without mobile phones and laptops and what not? And when did we all become so connected? I know that I can contact people through their mobiles, or office phones, or email or Facebook or one way or another. But the moment they’re not connected anymore, we panic. But even if we are connected through technology, we don’t have the same connection as the generations before us.

Before technology, communities were created through physical and verbal contact. You had to make a hell of a lot more effort then than you do now. At this moment, I am connected to a woman called Ivy. We’re often in contact with each other. I know what she looks like, I know what she does, I know her phone numbers and even where she lives. But I have never met her in my life. How did we meet? www.mudah.com.my Ivy sells clothes online and I was interested in a kimono dress that I found through this website.

I got the dress. It was posted to my house. I just put cash into her account and the next day, ta-da! New dress to wear to the office. Ivy added me on Facebook and emails me regularly on her new clothes stock. Through Ivy, I’m also in contact with Toto Lace, who also sells clothes online. But I have never met these women. They know my body size, where I live, what I do for a living, what style of clothes I like to wear, and what my budget is every month.

As with everything else, technology has both its good and bad sides. It allows you to meet and explore a whole new world. It’s fast, convenient, and it keeps you connected. But it also means its easier for people to prey on you. For them to get your personal details or sabotage you by placing discriminating photos or comments that could tarnish you reputation forever.

The mobile phone is definitely another little wonder that has all the good points going for it. It’s mobile, it’s accessible, it helps you out in any situation (provided that your phone hasn’t been barred), and it’s a way to keep you in contact with your loved ones. But once you switch it off…that’s it. You’re disconnected. I never thought or felt that technology had such a major impact on me until yesterday. I never really thought twice about it. But when you’re disconnected…you’re out of contact, out of touch, out of range. If it’s with the one you love, that’s the scariest feeling in the world

A Passion for English

Tuesday, 23 June 2009 @ 3.07pm

We were in the car, talking about which schools are good and what sort of education our children should have (yes, it might be early. But it’s always good to start planning ahead).

I said that we should encourage them to learn Mandarin, and that we would learn and practice with them. He agreed. I said that they could go to him for BM and Agama, and myself for English. He agreed. Then I said, “who are they going to go to for Math?”

This question led to him asking me why I was (and still am) so bad at numbers. I told him that they’d done research that your teacher can be a very big influence in your liking a subject or not. I have never had a good Math teacher – or at least not one who was able to spark my interest.

From kindergarten, I’ve had Math teachers who were more interested in their own personal lives then they were of actually teaching Math. In my history of Math teachers, two stood out the most. One was an overweight Chinese lady called Mrs Beulah. And the only reason I remembered her was because of her name. She was actually kind of jolly too. Oh, and she spoke about her husband a lot.

The other was Ms Ting. I, along with eight other Math misfits were in Group 9 (the lowest possible group made possible specially for us lost causes) were put in her class for the last two years of our high school days. She I remembered because all she did was preach about Jesus Christ and what she did at Church. (You can now see why I don’t really fancy Math).

There were two more that I don’t so much remember their names or faces. Just situations that involved them. One was when I was in Grade 7 (Form 1). She was a depressing woman. Every time she walked in the classroom, it felt like she brought with it all the bad energy and dark forces with her. It didn’t help that the classroom was at the far corner of the school and already felt like a cave. The other one was an English man. I forgot his name. He just didn’t care. I remember once I copied the sums and answers from the text book and returned it to him. I was so sure that I was going to get into trouble. I didn’t really care at the time (what with puberty and all…) And what did he do? Marked it all correct, praised my good effort and gave me an A+. He was quite puzzled when I failed during the exams.

Eddie then asked me why I liked English so much. Ahh…another story all together. My first teacher was called Mrs Button. She told me that when you read a book, you could paint beautiful pictures in your mind and make it your own. She taught me how to use my imagination. I remember once in Standard Two, my teacher, Mrs Linda, gave the class two options – watch a video or write a story. I was the only one who chose to write a story. Mrs Linda tried to convince me to join my classmates and watch the video. But I was determined to write. So I sat alone at the corner of the classroom writing.

When I was in Grade 7 (I didn’t go to Grade 6, so a lot of significant moments happened when I transferred from Grade 5 to Grade 7 – really opened up my eyes), I had Mr Moss for English. He was the new teacher at school and had a new method of teaching. He wanted us to write. No text book references, no nothing. Each class, we were made to write about something that came from us.

In Grade 8, they introduced English Literature, which we were taught once a week. Mr Moss was my teacher again. This year, he opened me up to the world of Shakespeare. He made us play the parts and read the lines.

In Grade 9, we were allowed to choose what subjects we wanted to take besides the mandatory Math, English and one Science subject. I chose Art, Design & Technology, Development Studies and English Literature. The last three years of high school was probably the best time of my teenage life.

I did a Diploma of Mass Communications, and that opened me up to journalism – soft and hard news, as well as different sorts of styles of reporting. University was the breaking point in my life. I was doing my bachelors in Media and Communications, but majored in Cultural Studies and Philosophy. This opened me up to Albert Camus and James Joyce, among many other writers, philosophers and sociologists whom I couldn’t get enough of during my years in Melbourne.

I told Eddie all this, explaining to him everything in detail. I even gave him some examples of my favourite authors. I told him about Roald Dahl and his infamous twist in the tales. And as I spoke and spoke, I didn’t realise that I have allowed English Literature to become such a big part of my life. I think this was one of the reasons why I couldn’t accept being just an AE. I’ve been back at Trix for only a week, but feel more useful in the last week then I have in the last six months.

I may have honed my skills as an AE and have learnt to deal with all sorts of people, but my years spent learning, reading, living and breathing has made me become what I am today. I am an Editor.

The Truth is...

Tuesday, 16 June 2009 @ 9.44am

The truth is…my life has been a total chaos. Ever since I left Trix, there hasn’t been any structure in my life. Those who know me know that I’m an organised, OCD neat freak. They know that I need order in my life – that everything has a time and place.

The truth is…it took three times before they let me go. And when they finally did, it was because of some clever manipulation that took place after I realised there was no black and white holding me back.

The truth is…for the past six or seven months, I felt dread and misery on Sunday evenings. And that’s because I didn’t want another week to start.

The truth is…in the last couple of months I’ve been questioning myself and my abilities as a writer (I started doubting myself after I joined that fucking job). And that was one of the reasons why I wanted to leave so bad.

The truth is…I haven’t been spending much time with anybody lately. Everyone I know gets a couple of hours (if they're lucky) here and there. And yes, I still blame that fucking job.

The truth is…I didn’t realise how much that fucking job affected my life and lifestyle till I was in the car driving with Martha next to me. She asked why I wanted to have dinner. My reply, “because I have time.” After a giggle and a high five, it was then that I realised that I really have had no life in the last six months.

The truth is…I need to start making the effort to spend time with certain people, especially those who have been the worse neglected.

The truth is…I’ve been living like a nomad for the past six months that I have to learn to stand firm again. That fucking job made me run from place to place without a breath, and at all hours of the day (and sometimes night). I need to learn to live normally again.

The truth is…I came back to Trix yesterday, and it was like I never left. I came in, got briefed on five newsletters and went on with it.

The truth is…it felt strange to leave the office at 6.30pm yesterday, with the sun still up. What felt even stranger was that everyone else was leaving too. At that fucking job, I always had to make an excuse even if I wanted to leave at 7.30pm!

The truth is…the grass always seems greener on the other side. But I’ve been there, and I’ve lived it. And I can guarantee you that it’s not.

The truth is…I’m an Editor again. And I love it.

I Kena Ngorat!!

Wednesday, 13 May 2009 @ 3.51pm

I got hit on the other day. I’d just bought breakfast from the bakery downstairs. Heading back to the office, I decided to call Ina. I noticed a man was sort of following me, but paid no attention since he also looked sort of lost. He was playing with his mobile and looking at the names and numbers of the building. I was standing at the lifts heading to my office, swinging my breakfast and chatting with Ina. Then it happened.

Guy: Excuse me.

I tell Ina to hold thinking he was going to ask for directions and lower the phone by an inch so she can still hear everything.

Anna: Yes?

G: You look familiar.

A (laughing in my head): Have we met before?

G: I don’t think so. Do you work here?

A: Yes (pointing upwards).

G: Oh k…where are you from?

A: KL.

G: Which part?

A: (I tell him).

G: Oh k…I’m from Bangsar.

A: Ok…

G: Umm…can I have your number so we can keep in contact?

A (still laughing in my head): I’m already engaged.

G: Oh k…sorry. Thanks (and walks off)

I immediately go back to my phone and laugh, saying, “I kena ngorat!” Ina is already laughing when I excitedly re-enact the whole exchange.

Not only did that incident make my day, but the jealousy on Eddie’s face when I told him later that day made my night too :)

Who do I think I am?

Getting engaged and getting married is supposed to be good news. It’s supposed to be a time where you have family and friends by your side. They’re there for support, to help you out with the decisions that you’re about to make, and they’re there to celebrate the joy that you should be feeling.

The initial shock has passed. The only one who is feeling joy at the moment is Eddie. He hugged me the other day and said in my ear, “we’re getting married.” Of course I smiled. Of course I was happy. But I wasn’t feeling the same joy that he’s basking in at the moment. I was once there with him too. I was feeling that float-in-the-air, oh-my-god-we’re-getting-married feeling too. But now my smile masks what I really feel.

No one is helping or asking or interested in my upcoming engagement. Yes, there’s definitely been some help. There have been some who have offered phone numbers and references to photographers, make-up artists and those who can create beautiful cupcakes for me. But that was only because I requested for help.

I was once enthusiastic. I had books and magazines and meetings set and fabric waiting to be cut and sewn into a gown. When did I put all that on hold? When did I put all that aside?

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone or more upset with everyone that I know. But everyone’s got their own problems to deal with. Who am I to ask or expect any help? Who do I think I am that people would actually want to take time out of their lives to help me? It’s selfish and I don’t deserve it.

Ever since I lived in Melbourne, I’ve been used to doing everything alone. Why should things be different now? Why should I expect people to want to be more involved with my engagement and wedding? It’s as though my relationship with Eddie has to be hush hush. No, let’s not talk about it out loud. If we do, then it might be true. Fuck that.

Eddie and I are really doing this on our own. We are really not getting any help from anybody. Physically, emotionally, mentally and financially. It’s all really on our own. And still…maybe I’m just living in a fantasy world thinking that somebody would actually want to be a part of what I think is one of the most important stages of my life. But then again…I’ve been constantly told to have no feeling. Don’t get emotional. Make sure you smile. Make sure everything’s fine. Even if it’s not. Don’t tell anyone your problems. Everyone’s an enemy. Shh…the neighbours might hear you.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone and more sad in my life. I thought this was meant to be a happy occasion. An occasion where for once, it was about me. Not my brothers. Not my sister. Not her kids. Not my mother. Not my father. Not my friends. Not my work. NOTHING else. But who do I think I am? It’s never been about me. Who do I think I am to think that it should be about me now?

This entry will probably upset a few. Cause them to pull long and sour faces. It might also spark some to suddenly want to help and be enthusiastic. But it’s ok. Do and feel what you want. Tell me I have too much pride and ego if you want. I just needed to write this and let off some steam. I can always harden my heart again. And I’m more than happy to share this joy with his family instead. It seems like they’re the only ones who are interested in our engagement anyway.

Last but not least, as I’ve said countless times before: if everything in my blog hurts your feelings, stop reading it.

The Princess Cut

Thursday, 7 May 2009 @ 2.08pm

I tried on my engagement ring yesterday. It was the seventh jewellery store that I visited. But when I slipped it on, it fit right. It was the one.

As an advertising Account Executive, there are many things that we have to do besides ‘servicing’ clients (whore, whore, whore). We also get to do market research – mostly to see how well our client’s brand is doing in the market, or to see how well their competitors were.

One of our clients is quite prominent in the jewellery line. And they’re aiming to launch a new collection but weren’t exactly sure who their rivals were yet. That’s where I come in :) Yesterday, I started work at 10.30am. And that was only because that’s the time rival jewellery stores open :)

Eddie insisted on tagging along because it was his day off and it’s quite rare for us to be able to spend time together during the day. Our first stop was Ampang Point. There were two prominent stores outside the shopping mall. One boasted huge posters at the side of their building. Once inside, I wasn’t all too impressed. The glass was all scratched, making the jewellery look cheap. My MO was to walk in, and ask them to show me their collection of engagement rings. Then only would I ease the matter of price range, seasonal and promotional items and guest profiles into the conversation. And I figured I’m looking for an engagement ring anyway…might as well kill two birds with one stone.

After hitting the second store, we went to Pavilion. My first thought was Tiffany & Co. Eddie didn’t want to follow me in there. He said he looks shabby and would rather hang out at Dome. Fine by me. I pulled my act together, put it in my head that I could afford anything in the store and walked in with an air of elegance and slight arrogance. They bought it. Not long after I started looking at their engagement rings, the sales assistant motioned to the security guard, who proceeded to close the door and stand guard. They didn’t let anybody else in and I was given VIP treatment. I spent a good half hour in there, looking at everything and questioning everything.

The next couple of stores were not as daunting to walk into as Tiffany & Co. And in every store, I would spend a good half hour trying on rings, talking about price range and what their most popular items were. There was one however, which was situated at the very corner of Pavilion and was extremely secluded. The only reason you would be walking around the area is if you were actually going to buy something. This time, I had to play that arrogant and rich card, with my nose held just high enough. They bought it.

I requested to see a princess cut engagement ring. She tells me she has a three-carat one. I, playing the rich and arrogant customer, say, “yeah sure, let me have a look.” She proceeds to the back of the store while I drool over the other rings. She comes back with a ring the size of a standard eraser. Inside I was freaking out, but outside, I portrayed a face that said, ‘ah, not too bad.’ I play along and even try it on! But unfortunately, didn’t fit, to which she immediately says that they can alter the size for me. I ask her how much. Her answer? “RM183,000.” I’m screaming in my head. But I just looked at her and say, “Not too bad. But it’s too big for my taste. Do you have other princess cut rings?”

Having played the rich snob for a few more stores, Eddie and I then decided to go to Lot 10 to see what my client’s store was like. Big disappointment. There was another jewellery store right next door. It was the seventh store that we walked in. I played the customer again, this time with Eddie by my side. I didn’t really expect much since I’d been told in the last six stores that princess cut was limited since there wasn’t a popular demand in this country.

I only asked for princess cut because it was a part of my starting line as undercover customer. But lit up when he showed me their range. This time, there wasn't just one that was yellow, or one the had four small diamonds put together. This time, they actually had a range of rings that I'd always dreamed of having for my engagement. Eddie was to my left, looking for wedding bands. I was eagerly trying on all their princess cut rings.

At almost the same time, Eddie had chosen our wedding bands just as I’d chosen my engagement ring. We were sold.

Kursus Kahwin & Two Accidents

Wednesday, 6 May 2009 @ 4.49pm

Week One: Kursus Kahwin

A friend of mine told me that the fee for the kursus kahwin (which is mandatory by law) would be increased from its current rate of RM80 to a ridiculous RM300+ (per person!!). Eddie and I won’t be getting married till next July (if all goes well), but the thought of having to fork out RM300+ each was enough to make us apply for leave on a Saturday and Sunday almost immediately.

Day One - Saturday

The course didn’t start till 2.30pm. So Eddie decided that we go look at fabric for the dress that I’d be wearing for the engagement. We went to the heart of the city and didn’t know where to start. Every corner you turned there were people handing out flyers and discount after discount and people handing out flyers… We finally went into Jakel – a three-storey haven of cotton, silk, linen and lace.

Entering, the staff was littered at every nook and cranny of the store that was already packed with people. I told them I wanted fabric for my engagement and was led to the third floor. I wanted everything. While I was busy looking at the fabric and lace and mixing and matching with the store assistant, Eddie had sneaked off to the ‘men’s corner’. When it was time to pay, I found him sleeping at the couch.

We had a quick lunch at Wangsa Maju before heading straight for the centre. There were already other couples waiting in the sitting area. There was also a group of friends (four girls and three boys) who were busy giggling at every single thing in sight. I immediately guessed that of the seven, there was probably a couple while the rest came to accompany them. (Later that day when the Ustaz were asking the men which ones their partners were, only one admitted to being a couple while the rest just giggled. I was right.)

After registering, Eddie and I went into the room where the course would take place over the day and a half. The seats were split into two sections – men and women – with an aisle down the middle. We sat at the back row next to the aisle and were an arm’s length away from each other. In other words, ‘next’ to each other.

I was already expecting boredom for the next four and a half hours. But instead, I got a lesson instead. Whatever the Ustaz was going on about, I either agreed with (since I’d already experienced it), or thought ‘Ohhhh!’ (because only then did I understand why Eddie behaved the way he does sometimes). They explained the differences between men and women, our roles as husbands and as wives, our roles as siblings and children, and if God is willing, our roles as fathers and mothers. Luckily, the two Ustaz for the day were interactive with us, the audience, which just made the time pass by faster.

Day Two: Sunday

I’d already warned Eddie the night before that we had to get up early because the course would be starting at 8.45am. I told him not to watch TV till the early hours of the morning. But did he listen? Of course not. It’s a good thing I insisted on him staying at my place. By the time I managed to get him off the couch it was already 8.15am. Luckily, it’s KL, meaning nothing ever starts on time.

When we reached, it was almost 9am. But the centre hadn’t even opened yet. We sat in the car and drank cold tin coffee and ate buns on the go. There were other couples from the day before sitting in the two cars on our left and right.

Eddie was really dreading this full-day course. He was sleepy and grumpy, but kept making faces at me so I’d smile instead of giving him the evil eye. The first half of the day went by fairly quickly. They spoke about communication between husband and wife, and how to treat each other’s families once we’d tied the knot. Being that most doubled as counselors at the Jawi or Jakim or whatever the place is called, they spoke a lot from their own experiences, or conveyed special cases from their clients.

At 12.30pm, the second Ustaz for the day bid his goodbye and we opened the door to packets of rice waiting to be devoured. Eddie and I settled on the couch in front of the TV and ate. The centre was three floors up, minus the elevator. We didn’t even bother going downstairs.

The first part of the second half saw our first and only Ustazah. She was also the bore of every course – the one that everyone dreads. Her topic focused on women’s role in the Islamic view, as well as in the reality view of life. For the first time in the many hours we’ve had to sit through, everyone was getting restless. I was trying hard to fight off sleep. But my eyelids were heavy. So I kept shifting positions, or kept sipping on water. I looked to my right, and an arm’s length away…was Eddie asleep…and drooling on his shirt! I was horrified. There was no way I could get up and wake him. The Ustazah was oblivious to everything around her. I didn’t know whether to be embarassed or angry. One of the giggly idiots from the front caught sight of Eddie and told her giggly idiotic friends. They turned and giggled upon seeing him. I saw red. No one laughs at my man.

I tried sms-ing him. In his sleep, he merely tried to push the vibrating phone that was in his pocket that was irritating him. I was just afraid that he would start talking in his sleep. I kept on watching him, ready to distract everyone should he start talking in his sleep. I had a plan and I wasn’t afraid to do it to protect my man. Luckily, as though his body had sensed it, he woke up ten minutes short of the end. He looked at me with his red eyes and smiled a sheepish smile. I mouthed to him to go wash his face. He just mouthed back, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’

During our ten-minute break before the final Ustaz, Eddie was energetic and fully awake (thanks to his nap) and I was grumpy and tired and pulling a face. Thank God the final Ustaz was not a boring pain in the ass. He spoke about health. He was interesting, interactive, funny and very informative. He also kept picking on me. He called me ‘orang Datuk Keramat’. He asked me about my diet, and my exercise regime, and my sleeping habits. But that was fine. At least it kept me alert enough not to sleep.

When the course was over, it was nearly dusk. We were bored, tired and hungry. And we were both irritated with each other. But we both felt we learnt something from it. I learnt that men express their love and care differently from women. They show they care by working hard, which also means spending less time with us >(. Women show their care and affection by taking care of their men and by nurturing them. Eddie admitted to me that he likes that I’ve started organising his life. He used to ignore everything or just dealt with it when it happened, but he said now there’s order in his life :)

Week Two: Two Accidents

The first one: He wasn’t moving…

I had gone to Dataran Prima then Damansara Jaya before making my way back to KL to another client’s office at The Nomad in Pavilion. I was driving, listening to the radio and just chilling. I was slowing to a stop at the traffic light which would turn to Jalan Yap Kwan Seng. If I had gone straight, then that would lead me to my office.

As I was nearing to a stop, I saw some men stopping to the left of my lane and getting off their bikes. The cars were also slowing down. As I got closer, I gasped in surprise when I saw a man, around my age or a little older, lying motionless on the ground. His head was split open and an island of blood was growing bigger on the ground. I started shrieking to myself in the car. He wasn’t moving. A man was hunched in front of him, probably trying to see if he’s ok. Others were standing around while some took the opportunity to direct traffic, all in the effort of making sure cars don’t run over him. I rolled down my window and heard them saying that he was hit by a car and the car drove off. He wasn’t moving…

I was paralysed for a moment. Every day I see bodies in the newspapers. But it’s different when it’s right there in front of you. He wasn’t moving. I contained my tears, told myself to calm down, and drove on to see my client.

The second one: She was in pain…

I’d just finished work and was on my way to see Eddie for an early dinner. It was a rare day where we both finished work before 7pm. The sun was still up and traffic was smooth. I was nearing my destination when I saw commotion on the opposite side of the road. I saw a bike that was turned upside down, and an elderly Chinese man trying to turn it over.

I drove slowly by and saw slippers on the ground. And another bike, smashed. I saw her face. She was in pain, barely conscious. Her boyfriend was dragging her to the side of the road. As I drove slowly on, I saw in my rear view mirror her feet as her boyfriend laid her on the ground.