I doubt I’m the only Malaysian who gets sick and tired of reports from the Parliament. Is it the media’s fault or is it truly our esteemed politicians who have earned their reputation as nit-picky fools?
I’m sure the Parliament discusses serious issues but sometimes, these issues get clouded by reports of disputes over ‘whether they have to wear a tie’ and ‘what animal they can safely use to portray their opponents’.
I’ve realized that my day is often ruined after I read the news on our respected politicians. No wonder so many people skip through that and go straight to sports or the gossip page. Reading about how Tom Cruise accidentally named his daughter after pickpockets is certainly more fascinating...
I have come to the conclusion that politics are too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.
Charles De Gaulle (1890 - 1970)
Watching recordings of what goes on in the Parliament also holds its own form of fascination – but it’s more akin to the gawking and gaping of the public witnessing a train wreck. You’re shocked and horrified by what you see but you are helpless to do anything about it.
I’ve seen street brawls that are more polite than the scraps that the politicians get into. I thought our leaders are supposed to be civil and decorous to one another. But the language they use, the mocking jibes and the taunting shouts they throw at each other just ... I don’t know… It embarrasses me.
When the politicians complain that TV turns the proceedings into a circus, it should be made clear that the circus was already there, and that TV has merely demonstrated that not all the performers are well trained.
Edward R. Murrow (1908 - 1965)
Whenever I read a report in a newspaper, or hear on the news, that some insignificant political character has said something stupid and invoked the wrath of the masses, I usually mutter to myself that it’s nothing but a publicity ploy. Just another ludicrous sound bite by some publicity-hungry wannabe.
Say something horribly stupid / discriminatory / bigoted and you’ll incite a huge outcry or controversy and TADAH! You’re guaranteed your 15 seconds of fame. Bad publicity is still publicity to some people.
But after so many years of observing this same tactic being used by different people (the same BREED of people, though), I’ve come to a different conclusion.
These politicians don’t say something stupid to get publicity...
They say something stupid because they are.
Ninety-eight percent of the adults in this country are decent, hard-working, honest Americans. It's the other lousy two percent that get all the publicity. But then--we elected them.
Lily Tomlin (1939 - )
My sincere apologies to the genuinely decent politicians out there. You're a rare breed. I salute you.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Just Desserts
Kiasu is a Hokkien (a Chinese spoken variant) word for 'extreme fear of losing'. Such an attitude is often highly competitive, and its emphasis is to be above all other people, even if it means putting other people down.
Kiasu may be a Hokkien word, but it’s application is multi-racial. Yesterday, I met a whole bunch of kiasu Malays. Allow me to tell you the story...
Sunday is a day where the whole family gathers for a ‘Family Lunch’. Usually, my parents would cook but sometimes, we got out for a meal. As all of us are pretty much busy with our own schedules during the week, Sundays are, customarily, the day where we touch base and refresh our ‘family ties’. We look forward to it.
This Sunday, we went to Cozy House in Great Eastern Mall. Had a scrumptious meal of ginger beef, fried kalian, pandan chicken, mixed vege, tofu and mushrooms in soy sauce and ikan masak pedas. After such a heavy meal, we went window shopping (ok, Baba actually bought stuff, the rest of us just looked). And after our meal had settled, we decided to get dessert at the Haagen Daaz ice-cream parlour.
The place was packed, a lot of people had the same idea – to savor ice-cream on a hot Sunday afternoon. We found a nice little table outside on the verandah and proceeded to order the Haagen Daaz fondue. (I’d recommend this to small groups... A luscious affair of small scoops of ice-cream, fresh fruits, cookies, brownies and wafers, all on a platter. In the middle of the platter, with a small candle burning, there’s a fondue pot half-filled with hot fudge sauce and half-filled with crushed almonds. You’re each given a long steel fork and you just poke whatever you want, dip it in fudge and coat it with nuts... yummmm... I especially loved the peaches!)
While we were waiting for our order, a family of 12 came to sit near us, lets call them the ‘Kiasu Clan’. They joined 2 little tables together and proceeded to order. We didn’t really notice them then, we were much to engrossed in our own conversation.
Baba always gets restless in restaurants. He tends to get fidgety and would often get up and walk-around the place (much to the chagrin of the waiters, he sometimes sneaked a peak into the kitchen to see if it was ‘up-to-standard’). Anyway, he got up and went inside the restaurant, checking out the many flavors of ice-cream on display.
A couple of minutes later, Baba opened the door to the verandah and announced to us that there was an available booth inside the restaurant. We wondered aloud whether all 7 of us would fit in the booth and decided we might as well give it a try.
Suddenly, we noticed a blur of yellow squeeze hurriedly pass Baba. It was one of the women from the Kiasu Clan. She made a mad dash for the available booth and made hasty gestures to the rest of her clan to join her. What shocked us all was the look on her face. A mixture of spite and smugness. She actually threw us a look, one of defiance, like “Hah! What can you do about it, you pathetic losers”.
To our amazement (and amusement!) the entire Kiasu Clan started a stampede to get to the booth. They barraged through the door, practically shoving my poor father aside in the rush.
Baba sat down with the funniest expression on his face. He looked puzzled. When he recovered, he then had a wicked little gleam in his eyes when he said “Hmm... let’s see if that bunch of fatsos can fit into the booth”.
So we surreptitiously looked and what we saw amused us terribly.
Of course, the Kiasu Clan, all 12 of them, could not fit in the booth. I mean, even the 7 of us were apprehensive about being able to do so. They stood around the booth, casting furtive glances at their previous table next to us. They stole fleeting looks at us too, trying to act nonchalant while their lips were busy muttering God-knows-what.
“Takkan dia nak pergi balik kat meja dia… Mesti dia malu siotttt...” said my very eloquent brother.
Mama gave a naughty little giggle and said “Heheheh... let’s see what they’ll do now.”
The Kiasu Clan proceeded to try and squash themselves into the booth. After much shoving, jostling and the holding of breath, they gave up. They stood up to check out their old table again, and were chagrined to see that it was now occupied by another family.
By that time, we were enjoying the show while relishing the cool taste of our ice-cream. As the Kiasu Clan stood there, looking out-of-place and ill at ease, we just smiled sweetly at them whenever they caught our eyes.
Eventually, God had mercy for them and a small table became free. So they split up, half of them sat in the Revered Booth while the other half sat at the table. We lost interest in them and continued having a good time.
After we finished, we proceeded to walk into the restaurant to get back into the mall. To our utter amazement, yellow-shirted Kiasu Clan member suddenly picked up her mobile phone, turned her face upwards to us and started hollering at the top of her voice “HELLO?? HELLO TAN SRI? YA, TAN SRI... YA YA, SAYA ADA DENGAN DATIN NI!” Again, she had the most ridiculous look on her face. That funny mixture of spite and smugness.
We filed out of the restaurant in complete amazement. Wow... ada jugak manusia macam ni...
I suppose she felt vindicated and justified in her behavior. I don’t know.
Human beings are perhaps never more frightening than when they are convinced beyond doubt that they are right.
Laurens Van der Post, The Lost World of the Kalahari (1958)
I hope to meet them again, the Kiasu Clan. Or at least, they should have another rendezvous with my Baba. I’m sure he’d be glad to help widen their Datuk contacts.
The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.
Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)
Kiasu may be a Hokkien word, but it’s application is multi-racial. Yesterday, I met a whole bunch of kiasu Malays. Allow me to tell you the story...
Sunday is a day where the whole family gathers for a ‘Family Lunch’. Usually, my parents would cook but sometimes, we got out for a meal. As all of us are pretty much busy with our own schedules during the week, Sundays are, customarily, the day where we touch base and refresh our ‘family ties’. We look forward to it.
This Sunday, we went to Cozy House in Great Eastern Mall. Had a scrumptious meal of ginger beef, fried kalian, pandan chicken, mixed vege, tofu and mushrooms in soy sauce and ikan masak pedas. After such a heavy meal, we went window shopping (ok, Baba actually bought stuff, the rest of us just looked). And after our meal had settled, we decided to get dessert at the Haagen Daaz ice-cream parlour.
The place was packed, a lot of people had the same idea – to savor ice-cream on a hot Sunday afternoon. We found a nice little table outside on the verandah and proceeded to order the Haagen Daaz fondue. (I’d recommend this to small groups... A luscious affair of small scoops of ice-cream, fresh fruits, cookies, brownies and wafers, all on a platter. In the middle of the platter, with a small candle burning, there’s a fondue pot half-filled with hot fudge sauce and half-filled with crushed almonds. You’re each given a long steel fork and you just poke whatever you want, dip it in fudge and coat it with nuts... yummmm... I especially loved the peaches!)
While we were waiting for our order, a family of 12 came to sit near us, lets call them the ‘Kiasu Clan’. They joined 2 little tables together and proceeded to order. We didn’t really notice them then, we were much to engrossed in our own conversation.
Baba always gets restless in restaurants. He tends to get fidgety and would often get up and walk-around the place (much to the chagrin of the waiters, he sometimes sneaked a peak into the kitchen to see if it was ‘up-to-standard’). Anyway, he got up and went inside the restaurant, checking out the many flavors of ice-cream on display.
A couple of minutes later, Baba opened the door to the verandah and announced to us that there was an available booth inside the restaurant. We wondered aloud whether all 7 of us would fit in the booth and decided we might as well give it a try.
Suddenly, we noticed a blur of yellow squeeze hurriedly pass Baba. It was one of the women from the Kiasu Clan. She made a mad dash for the available booth and made hasty gestures to the rest of her clan to join her. What shocked us all was the look on her face. A mixture of spite and smugness. She actually threw us a look, one of defiance, like “Hah! What can you do about it, you pathetic losers”.
To our amazement (and amusement!) the entire Kiasu Clan started a stampede to get to the booth. They barraged through the door, practically shoving my poor father aside in the rush.
Baba sat down with the funniest expression on his face. He looked puzzled. When he recovered, he then had a wicked little gleam in his eyes when he said “Hmm... let’s see if that bunch of fatsos can fit into the booth”.
So we surreptitiously looked and what we saw amused us terribly.
Of course, the Kiasu Clan, all 12 of them, could not fit in the booth. I mean, even the 7 of us were apprehensive about being able to do so. They stood around the booth, casting furtive glances at their previous table next to us. They stole fleeting looks at us too, trying to act nonchalant while their lips were busy muttering God-knows-what.
“Takkan dia nak pergi balik kat meja dia… Mesti dia malu siotttt...” said my very eloquent brother.
Mama gave a naughty little giggle and said “Heheheh... let’s see what they’ll do now.”
The Kiasu Clan proceeded to try and squash themselves into the booth. After much shoving, jostling and the holding of breath, they gave up. They stood up to check out their old table again, and were chagrined to see that it was now occupied by another family.
By that time, we were enjoying the show while relishing the cool taste of our ice-cream. As the Kiasu Clan stood there, looking out-of-place and ill at ease, we just smiled sweetly at them whenever they caught our eyes.
Eventually, God had mercy for them and a small table became free. So they split up, half of them sat in the Revered Booth while the other half sat at the table. We lost interest in them and continued having a good time.
After we finished, we proceeded to walk into the restaurant to get back into the mall. To our utter amazement, yellow-shirted Kiasu Clan member suddenly picked up her mobile phone, turned her face upwards to us and started hollering at the top of her voice “HELLO?? HELLO TAN SRI? YA, TAN SRI... YA YA, SAYA ADA DENGAN DATIN NI!” Again, she had the most ridiculous look on her face. That funny mixture of spite and smugness.
We filed out of the restaurant in complete amazement. Wow... ada jugak manusia macam ni...
I suppose she felt vindicated and justified in her behavior. I don’t know.
Human beings are perhaps never more frightening than when they are convinced beyond doubt that they are right.
Laurens Van der Post, The Lost World of the Kalahari (1958)
I hope to meet them again, the Kiasu Clan. Or at least, they should have another rendezvous with my Baba. I’m sure he’d be glad to help widen their Datuk contacts.
The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.
Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)
Friday, April 21, 2006
Life's a tough proposition, and the first hundred years are the hardest.Wilson Mizner (1876 - 1933)
How tough are you?
Do you have a low threshold of pain?
Or are you one of those bizarre people who can break an arm and continue your tennis game?
I’ve been asking myself these questions lately.
I’ve always prided myself in being pretty tough.
When I was a child, skinned knees and bumps on the head were all so familiar to me. No big deal. I crashed my bike a zillion times, fell in the big longkang a couple of times and rolled head-over-heels down a hill on my skateboard more times than I can remember. But every time, I got up smiling.
The thrill was worth the pain.
This lunacy spilled over into my teenage years.
I remember when I was 16 and was running the 200m race during sports day. Half-way through the race, I tripped and twisted my ankle. But because the crowd was screaming and my parents were in the stands, I got up, grimaced, clenched my fist and continued the race. Came in 3rd.
The pain was horrific but I labored on, my eyes on the finishing line.
And I also remember the day I accidentally tore-up my wrist.
How the heck did I manage to do that?
Well, according to my dad, if it’s capable of breaking, tearing or musnah’ing, Diha will find a way to do it.
A sarcastic man, my dad.
It was a simple, stupid accident actually. I tried to open a window by pushing it with my wrist instead of using the little lever. The gash was very deep – I could see my flesh, veins and bones. Blood was spurting out like crimson fountains.
An awful sight. And the pain was ghastly too.
But I slept all through the surgery and a couple of days after the incident, I was hiking up to Bakun dam with my family and friends.
Diha perasan tough.
When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918 - ), "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art", 1980
But am I REALLY as tough as I THINK I am?
Will I be able to endure the pain of childbirth?
Will I bear the anguish of labor pains with dignity?
Or will I be screaming like a banshee and lashing out at well-meaning nurses?
Or worse…
Will I give up in the face of torment and endanger the baby?
I guess this is what it means about being grown-up.
When one’s actions are not one’s own to bear.
If the pain is something only I have to endure and there are no consequences to be borne by others, I’m all for it.
Ok’lah, I’m not ‘all for it’, but I can tolerate it, insyaAllah.
But if the pain is one which may imperil the people I love... that’s a different matter altogether.
Before I got married, I was quite a risk-taker.
I drove like a speed-demon. I wasn’t careful about what I ate (I know what fried grasshopper tastes like... And I know what most flowers taste like too...)
I wanted to bungee-jump, sky-dive, parachute off a cliff, that kinda thing. My parents were not too keen on their eldest daughter being such a foolish daredevil and more often than not, they’d put their foot down and ‘forbid such idiocies”.
After I got married, nobody needed to ‘forbid’ anything anymore. The only thing I would do is snorkel and parasail. I’d look at a bungee-jumper and I’d sigh in admiration but I don’t bug my parents to let me have a try.
Why?
Because now, I have a husband to think about.
If I did something risky like bungee-jump and then I died, he’d kill me.
Gone are the days when I was a selfish, egotistical, thoughtless individual.
(Okay la... it’s not ALL gone but I’m much LESS so! Now, stop snorting.)
Now that I’m counting the days to mommyhood, I’ve got to learn to be selfless and considerate. It’s not about Me Me Me Me anymore. I’m no longer a 'young lady' or a ‘newlywed’ – I have a family of my own now.
Am I tough enough to make this change?
Lets hope so.
You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
Rosalynn Carter (1927 - )
Do you have a low threshold of pain?
Or are you one of those bizarre people who can break an arm and continue your tennis game?
I’ve been asking myself these questions lately.
I’ve always prided myself in being pretty tough.
When I was a child, skinned knees and bumps on the head were all so familiar to me. No big deal. I crashed my bike a zillion times, fell in the big longkang a couple of times and rolled head-over-heels down a hill on my skateboard more times than I can remember. But every time, I got up smiling.
The thrill was worth the pain.
This lunacy spilled over into my teenage years.
I remember when I was 16 and was running the 200m race during sports day. Half-way through the race, I tripped and twisted my ankle. But because the crowd was screaming and my parents were in the stands, I got up, grimaced, clenched my fist and continued the race. Came in 3rd.
The pain was horrific but I labored on, my eyes on the finishing line.
And I also remember the day I accidentally tore-up my wrist.
How the heck did I manage to do that?
Well, according to my dad, if it’s capable of breaking, tearing or musnah’ing, Diha will find a way to do it.
A sarcastic man, my dad.
It was a simple, stupid accident actually. I tried to open a window by pushing it with my wrist instead of using the little lever. The gash was very deep – I could see my flesh, veins and bones. Blood was spurting out like crimson fountains.
An awful sight. And the pain was ghastly too.
But I slept all through the surgery and a couple of days after the incident, I was hiking up to Bakun dam with my family and friends.
Diha perasan tough.
When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.
Madeleine L'Engle (1918 - ), "Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art", 1980
But am I REALLY as tough as I THINK I am?
Will I be able to endure the pain of childbirth?
Will I bear the anguish of labor pains with dignity?
Or will I be screaming like a banshee and lashing out at well-meaning nurses?
Or worse…
Will I give up in the face of torment and endanger the baby?
I guess this is what it means about being grown-up.
When one’s actions are not one’s own to bear.
If the pain is something only I have to endure and there are no consequences to be borne by others, I’m all for it.
Ok’lah, I’m not ‘all for it’, but I can tolerate it, insyaAllah.
But if the pain is one which may imperil the people I love... that’s a different matter altogether.
Before I got married, I was quite a risk-taker.
I drove like a speed-demon. I wasn’t careful about what I ate (I know what fried grasshopper tastes like... And I know what most flowers taste like too...)
I wanted to bungee-jump, sky-dive, parachute off a cliff, that kinda thing. My parents were not too keen on their eldest daughter being such a foolish daredevil and more often than not, they’d put their foot down and ‘forbid such idiocies”.
After I got married, nobody needed to ‘forbid’ anything anymore. The only thing I would do is snorkel and parasail. I’d look at a bungee-jumper and I’d sigh in admiration but I don’t bug my parents to let me have a try.
Why?
Because now, I have a husband to think about.
If I did something risky like bungee-jump and then I died, he’d kill me.
Gone are the days when I was a selfish, egotistical, thoughtless individual.
(Okay la... it’s not ALL gone but I’m much LESS so! Now, stop snorting.)
Now that I’m counting the days to mommyhood, I’ve got to learn to be selfless and considerate. It’s not about Me Me Me Me anymore. I’m no longer a 'young lady' or a ‘newlywed’ – I have a family of my own now.
Am I tough enough to make this change?
Lets hope so.
You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
Rosalynn Carter (1927 - )
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Amazing Sights
I’ve seen a lot of amazing sights in the course of my life.
The Kaabah, during my first trip to the Holy City of Makkah
I was barely in my teens. Full of youthful naïveté while the beginnings of adolescent rebellion was gaining a foothold in me.
The family trip to perform the Umrah was the perfect balm.
I had a lump in my throat when I saw the beauty of the Kaabah. Some may argue that there’s nothing exceptionally beautiful about a cube covered in a black cloth, but trust me… It was beautiful. The symbol of Islam stood firmly while Muslims methodically circled it, murmuring prayers.
Peace and serenity simply radiated from the scene.
The Washington Monument in Washington DC
I really don’t know why I was so impressed with this simple four-sided stone structure. My friends who went with me didn’t seem that awed by it. But to me, it was a lovely sight. It was nearly sunset on a freezing winter’s day, and the monument was reflected in the still waters of The Reflecting Pool. The 50 flags that surround the base of the monument danced in the gentle wind.
A beautiful picture of soothing tranquility.
KL Sky-line from the Highway
Born and bred in Kuala Lumpur, I have always loved the sights and sounds of KL. Yes, the traffic can be horrendous but whenever I travel to rural areas, I find myself getting antsy because of the lack of traffic (example: During our trip to Tg. Jara, we were driving around looking for food in the dead of the night at Dungun. It was so quiet and still so my poor husband was flabbergasted when I suddenly yelped upon seeing a traffic jam at a junction. To me, it was a nice sign of civilization.) Anyway, I remember coming home from a trip to Taiping. We were accompanied by torrential rain and the wicked symphony of thunder. Upon reaching a slight incline in the road, the sky suddenly began to clear and up ahead, I saw the KL skyline. Finally. Home sweet home.
The City of Lights, indeed
These are only 3 of the amazing sights that I’ve had the privilege of enjoying during my 27 years of life.
Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.
Miriam Beard
Yesterday, I saw another one.
Wan and I went for our 2nd appointment with the obgyn. She conducted another ultra-sound on me. The last time, I could barely see anything on the screen.
Yesterday, we saw our baby.
And we also had the pleasure of hearing the gentle heartbeat.
I lay there on the bed and soaked it in.
The doctor’s heartening words that the baby was doing fine, alhamdulillah.
The laughing smile of the nurse as I blurted out “Oh my God! It has a heartbeat!” while the doctor kindly chuckled “Of course it does. It’s a living thing, dear.” The smile of the doting father as he insisted on recording the entire experience (Fortunately, Dr. Fauziah didn’t mind at all... she seemed quite amused).
Most of all, I soaked in the gradual awareness that my body was giving refuge to another soul. Another human being. Another person. My child.
The doctor then pointed out a blinking dot on the screen and said “That’s the baby’s heart beating. You can see it now.”I turned and saw it.
It was like a bright, twinkling star. A beautiful illuminated glimmer. A steady sparkle on the dark screen.
And THAT was the Most Amazing Sight I’ve EVER seen.
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust (1871 - 1922)
The Kaabah, during my first trip to the Holy City of Makkah
I was barely in my teens. Full of youthful naïveté while the beginnings of adolescent rebellion was gaining a foothold in me.
The family trip to perform the Umrah was the perfect balm.
I had a lump in my throat when I saw the beauty of the Kaabah. Some may argue that there’s nothing exceptionally beautiful about a cube covered in a black cloth, but trust me… It was beautiful. The symbol of Islam stood firmly while Muslims methodically circled it, murmuring prayers.
Peace and serenity simply radiated from the scene.
The Washington Monument in Washington DC
I really don’t know why I was so impressed with this simple four-sided stone structure. My friends who went with me didn’t seem that awed by it. But to me, it was a lovely sight. It was nearly sunset on a freezing winter’s day, and the monument was reflected in the still waters of The Reflecting Pool. The 50 flags that surround the base of the monument danced in the gentle wind.
A beautiful picture of soothing tranquility.
KL Sky-line from the Highway
Born and bred in Kuala Lumpur, I have always loved the sights and sounds of KL. Yes, the traffic can be horrendous but whenever I travel to rural areas, I find myself getting antsy because of the lack of traffic (example: During our trip to Tg. Jara, we were driving around looking for food in the dead of the night at Dungun. It was so quiet and still so my poor husband was flabbergasted when I suddenly yelped upon seeing a traffic jam at a junction. To me, it was a nice sign of civilization.) Anyway, I remember coming home from a trip to Taiping. We were accompanied by torrential rain and the wicked symphony of thunder. Upon reaching a slight incline in the road, the sky suddenly began to clear and up ahead, I saw the KL skyline. Finally. Home sweet home.
The City of Lights, indeed
These are only 3 of the amazing sights that I’ve had the privilege of enjoying during my 27 years of life.
Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.
Miriam Beard
Yesterday, I saw another one.
Wan and I went for our 2nd appointment with the obgyn. She conducted another ultra-sound on me. The last time, I could barely see anything on the screen.
Yesterday, we saw our baby.
And we also had the pleasure of hearing the gentle heartbeat.
I lay there on the bed and soaked it in.
The doctor’s heartening words that the baby was doing fine, alhamdulillah.
The laughing smile of the nurse as I blurted out “Oh my God! It has a heartbeat!” while the doctor kindly chuckled “Of course it does. It’s a living thing, dear.” The smile of the doting father as he insisted on recording the entire experience (Fortunately, Dr. Fauziah didn’t mind at all... she seemed quite amused).
Most of all, I soaked in the gradual awareness that my body was giving refuge to another soul. Another human being. Another person. My child.
The doctor then pointed out a blinking dot on the screen and said “That’s the baby’s heart beating. You can see it now.”I turned and saw it.
It was like a bright, twinkling star. A beautiful illuminated glimmer. A steady sparkle on the dark screen.
And THAT was the Most Amazing Sight I’ve EVER seen.
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust (1871 - 1922)
Thursday, April 13, 2006
News from the Muse
I know, I know… I’ve been a terrible excuse for a blogger. But if you allow me a couple of minutes to explain what has been going on in my life, you’ll understand why.
The last you heard from me, I was off on mini-holidays with my husband and living the life of luxury (read: laziness) at home.
Well, I’ve got updated news for you.
I’ve started on my new career at PWC. My first day of work was on Monday, 10th April 2006. I like it here. In a nutshell, work has been very satisfying. I get to use my legal training and at the same time, I’m learning all about the nitty-gritty lifestyle of a corporate player. The work environment here is also vastly different from that of a legal firm. Not less work, but less stress, less pressure, less demands. An American firm ran by Chinese, imagine the efficiency! I don’t want to gush so much; its way too soon for that. Suffice to say, I’m glad I made the leap. And the biggest reason I’m glad I’m no longer a litigator, is because of the other news I have to share.
Wan & I are expecting our firstborn on 17th November 2006.
We made the decision to start a family early this year; call it a New Year’s Resolution. It was never a dispute that both of us love children and want our own. We even had the names all planned out. It’s just that this year, we felt that we were ready – and it looks like God concurred :)
How do I feel?
Physically?
Nauseous.
Hehe. For the first time in my life, I know what nausea feels like. I’ve never gotten car-sickness or sea-sick or any kind of sickness that makes me feel like vomiting all the time. So this yucky, icky taste of nausea I’m faced with now is very new to me, and leaves me rather weak. And no, asam does not help me.
Emotionally?
Thrilled, excited, nervous, anxious, elated – an amalgamation of emotions, really. In one minute, we’re worried that maybe we’re not sufficiently equipped with the trappings of parenthood. The next minute, we’re eagerly counting the days for the arrival of our firstborn. We talk about our child all the time. Imagine how we’ll be when the child is actually born!
So there you go.
I, Mediha Mahmood, am pregnant.
Pray it all goes well, insyaAllah…
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.
Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967)
The last you heard from me, I was off on mini-holidays with my husband and living the life of luxury (read: laziness) at home.
Well, I’ve got updated news for you.
I’ve started on my new career at PWC. My first day of work was on Monday, 10th April 2006. I like it here. In a nutshell, work has been very satisfying. I get to use my legal training and at the same time, I’m learning all about the nitty-gritty lifestyle of a corporate player. The work environment here is also vastly different from that of a legal firm. Not less work, but less stress, less pressure, less demands. An American firm ran by Chinese, imagine the efficiency! I don’t want to gush so much; its way too soon for that. Suffice to say, I’m glad I made the leap. And the biggest reason I’m glad I’m no longer a litigator, is because of the other news I have to share.
Wan & I are expecting our firstborn on 17th November 2006.
We made the decision to start a family early this year; call it a New Year’s Resolution. It was never a dispute that both of us love children and want our own. We even had the names all planned out. It’s just that this year, we felt that we were ready – and it looks like God concurred :)
How do I feel?
Physically?
Nauseous.
Hehe. For the first time in my life, I know what nausea feels like. I’ve never gotten car-sickness or sea-sick or any kind of sickness that makes me feel like vomiting all the time. So this yucky, icky taste of nausea I’m faced with now is very new to me, and leaves me rather weak. And no, asam does not help me.
Emotionally?
Thrilled, excited, nervous, anxious, elated – an amalgamation of emotions, really. In one minute, we’re worried that maybe we’re not sufficiently equipped with the trappings of parenthood. The next minute, we’re eagerly counting the days for the arrival of our firstborn. We talk about our child all the time. Imagine how we’ll be when the child is actually born!
So there you go.
I, Mediha Mahmood, am pregnant.
Pray it all goes well, insyaAllah…
A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.
Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967)
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