Lighter ku yang berona kuning dan putih kehilangan

Malay magazines threw me off.

Really, it did.

Back when I was a teen, a long time ago, I used to love reading this one magazine, the epitome of all ‘remaja berangan’ magazine, until I discovered Marvels comics and have enough allowance to buy novels.

I remembered I used to read them because my aunties used to buy them.

Of course back then, I didn’t cringe.

I have had the opportunity of reading one of the magazines after years of not doing so. I am not so much of a magazine reader. The only ones I really read had been Reader’s Digest and magazines on photograpy mostly. When my cousin was getting married, I picked up a few local wedding mags just for the heck of it. I love looking at the pictures of elaborate wedding outfits and the ‘hantaran’. They’re so pretty.

So as you can just imagine; I didn’t read the contents at all.

It’s nice to think of me ever getting married, I think that’s the closest I can get to having my own wedding.

Anyway, I was literally struggling to understand the ‘new age’ Malay language they used in the magazine. It was a women’s magazine, so they talked about fashion and whatnots. I am used to fashion magazines just
... not really to Malay ones.

Can’t they just use ‘Warna’ instead of ‘Rona’? wouldn’t that be counted as bombastic? I had to guess the meaning of the word based on the usage so in the end, after the long 30 minutes I took to kind of getting the hang of reading a Malay magazine after so long, I finally understood that rona really just meant; ‘Warna’ or color.

That’s just soooo... corny.

“Oh yea... makcik boleh tak bagi saya lighter rona kehijauan dan kebiru – biruan ala biru turqoise itu? Smashing!”

And they also used English words in Malay sentences!

I swear, comparing this to the Remaja mags that I read when I was young (-er), Remaja rawks in my book.

It might shock people but I studied Malay literature in school when I was doing my form sixes. I am not good at it, but I do know that by using bombastic Malay words, the possibility of you getting your context wrong is more likely.

So while I decide on which ‘busana’ to wear and what ‘rona’ of scarves to go with it for tomorrow, you can bet that, that would be the last time I would pick up a Malay fashion magazine.

Pastikan pilihanmu menarik perhatian si dia!

Crap.

Anyway.. this is old news but went to Bijoux Bazaar with Naz Aka Kaki Cucuk Langit weekends ago.

Bought a pashmina cardigan and a pair of earrings made by Jade!! huhu... and I am a happy girl (I am easy to please like that.. uh... not really)

And I met Cosmic Gurl!!! hehehehe... it was really nice to meet you la babe. But tengah kecoh and panas like that I forgot to take your phone number la pulak... email me?

U stressed? I stressed oso! (Serta gambar2)

I admit I have not been blogging much sense lately. For one, work has been absolutely stressful as we need to absorb as many info as possible in the shortest time imaginable.

Well, I am supposed to be a specialist like how my job title suggest right?

Anyway, in case you guys are wondering, ironically, my weekends are usually spent with my friends who came all the way from JB to keep me company. Strangely, my KL friends are all not really the weekend tai tai luncheon type. They are more into the booze fest type.

One could only do that much partying in that little time. I have mellowed down as far as partying is concerned. For a short time, I was partially sober through the weekend, but at the end of the day, there’s a limit to my under the influence state of conscience.

My relationship status? I am not sure. My take on things? Still pretty much Johorean (and will stay that way forever). Did I meet more bloggers now that I am in KL? No. Do I intend to? As long as these people I am going to meet is not going to turn into some psychotic bloggers I knew, I am open to possibilities. Is life going to fare better for me? After income tax and the unbearable hike in petrol price, well... I guess you could say... boleh la!

It’s strange how my life has suddenly been taken over by work and... work. For a short time there I thought I could stop being independent (a bit) when I met someone. But due to some circumstances, I slapped myself in the face and said stop dreaming la.

I would rather be stuck in my work than be disappointed. So I found solace in my new professional disposition.

And a figure from my past turned out to be the one person who was there for me and who is genuinely concerned about me. We were romantically involved but in the end, due to some irreconciliable differences in spiritual sense and all, we split.

He is, aside from my family members, the only one who is taking care of me. Even when I was mugged (Yes... I got mugged! But, my IC and all other things stay intact!), he helped without a question. He told me that I would just have to open my mouth and ask.

Strange how that turned out, considering I really was actually close to strangling him when we were together.

Maybe that is how God have always intended for me, for me to discover him as a friend and not as something else. Sucks but, who are we to have a say in anything? Correct?

Anyway... these are some pictures of my new work peeps. Believe it or not, we are really close, and we do actually hang out with each other on weekends (when I am sober-lah).

Yo!

Yeah... you who is reading this very short entry.

Here’s the deal. I am in KL, I am doing fine, I have an ex who is concerned about me, and I actually love him for it.

He is my friend, my confidante, and how I wish he is not my ex. What’s done is done, and I think we are cool as friends.

My Mum is actually calling me from time to time to know how I am doing. I don't get that kind of attention often. And I like it.

I am single, but that’s ok. I don't have an expensive ride, and that’s ok.

Whats important is that now I have a group of friends who are mostly younger than me... (uhuk uhuk...) and they are the bomb like that la.

No Manners please, I am Malaysian?

I was starbucking one fine Saturday afternoon right after going back from a friend’s wedding (Alan dude... congratulations selamat pantin barooo.) and was going through my email when someone came over to me and asked if I was a blogger, and I said yes.

I do hide some things about myself, being a blogger is not one of it.

Anyway... the person later asked if I know about Nuraina Samad, well the truth is that I heard about her but I never actually know who she was. Turned out that she was some kind of a celebrity blogger and the person who approached me was a broadcast journalist from RTM. She asked me if I can be in front of a camera, and I said no.

I am a blogger but I am no exhibitionist. Maybe I am, but I don't want to be known by the whole country. What if my parents thought I am one of those bloggers who are jobless and have been spreading ‘skandal-skandal yang 50% benar?’

Aha... by the way... I am not. ‘Tak ado kojo eh!’

I declined politely. She approached a lady who was also surfing at the table next to mine. Being that the one next to me was not having headphones on, it is impossible for her to not hear the journalist who was really trying to do her job.

She didn’t even turn to look at her and was only shaking her head.

This was disturbing. For one, the lady looked more Malay than I do, so the lack of manners were unacceptable.

‘Apa, Mak takde ajar adab ke?’

Would saying no politely to another human being be a major problem? Sure she would insist, but you could also insist.

The lady next to mine also had her boyfriend with her, and no surprise, the dude was also shaking his head profusely, the way one would do when approached by beggars or ‘supposedly’ disable individuals selling tissue at hawker stalls.

What would it take for someone to say no thanks but I would love to and would it cost you an arm and a leg to smile?

Seriously.

It's a matter of who I am?

I was in baju kurung on Wednesday.

I had a reason to be. Actually, a couple of reasons to don the outfit.

One, it was because the baju kurung was the only outfit I could think of in the morning that didn’t require ironing.

Second, we had a trainer who came from the states, and she wanted to see how a ‘Bajoo Koorroong’ is like.

So I wore my favorite baju kurung, the one with the elaborate golden brownish flowers, the perpel one.

Being that I was not able to surf the net properly yesterday as I was rushing to KLCC to entertain our trainer, I decided to drive to The Curve for a shot of coffee and time out alone.

I was in the mood for cigarettes that evening, so I smoked.

In my baju kurung Johor, in my ‘gadis melayu yang ayu’ persona.

I decided that I want to observe how would other people see me, someone who could be a Malay and who could be something other than Malay (Chinese, Chindian, Iban even.) who was clad in a baju kurung, who was puffing away expertly.

The fact of the matter was, I am in KL, and like how a friend with whom I was chatting with told me, me smoking is nothing compared to someone she knows who drank a glass of wine in the same outfit.

I surprised myself when I said that I still have respect for the demure costume. Somehow, the ‘baju kurung Johor’ is my heritage. I would never deny my state. I am your true blue Johorean who loves being one, and is proud of the state that I have lived in most of my life.

While some people let go of their state once they moved to KL and deemed themselves as KL-lites, I don't and I won’t. Basically, if we are to be truly politically correct and accurate, no one could call themselves a KL-lite unless they were born in KL.

So being that, I simply could not relate to how someone I know who was originally from Kuala Lipis told me that she is now a full fledge KL-lite and would never even want to mention the other KL.

I tell people every so often that I am not a KL-lite, will never be. I am first and foremostly a Johorean who loves Zapin, who loves Ghazal, who loves being a Johorean. Who is so fussy about her baju kurung that I must simply make sure everything about my baju kurung is every bit Johorean, the Pesak, the tulang belut stitching at the neck line, everything.

I guess, there is something about myself that I could never quite get. While I am your everyday fun loving person who people would call, modernized, possibly even westernized, I am still every bit traditional and old fashioned at heart.

Yeap, from smoking in baju kurung to being a hardcore traditionalist, it seemed like Sarcy is getting more merapek by the day when it comes to blogging.

Maybe my brain is still trying to adjust to the reality that right now I am back in KL and life kind of starts itself on a new note.

Bear with me now.

A Stay in night for me was like this...

It was a stay in TV night.

I was chilling at my uncle’s house and being that I arrived around 9.30 at night straight after work, I had dinner alone and watched TV together with my uncle and auntie.

I sat through Diari AF not because I want to but was because I don't really have a choice.

One of the students were given one of my favorite songs from my favorite band Dewa 19 which was Laskar Cinta (contrary to what you guys might have thought, Sarcy do listen to Malay songs though... from a limited chosen range). I have a feeling that the song is going to be disgraced and obliterated, no thanks to the principle.

Oh well...

And guess what, I also sat through one of ASTRo’s program which was an equivalent of E! Channel’s THS, Cerita Artis Malaysia (CAM? Like wtf?). The featured artist? Dato’ Siti Nurhaliza. I learnt that her younger sister has a pierced tongue, and that they cut short the whole ‘surat layang’ fiasco.

Don't get Sarcy wrong... I am not a fan, never was, never is, never will be. Eeeewwww....

AND I also sat through a Tamil movie (yes – la!) which my uncle turn on. It was weird. I watched fatty bellies dance around to Tamil songs, a guy who used a 25MM handgun in a court during proceedings (he shot down the judge... like whoaaa!) the shooter rescues the wrongly accused lass (heroin laa) and being that he was a murderer who managed to flee the scene of the crime, they sent one (YES... ONE) police car to go after two convicted suspects.

In the midst of being convicts, the two had the time to participate in a party where the wrongly accused woman changed to a sexy belly showing outfit and the dude danced to the choreography.

When it was abruptly stopped by the police (on cue too.. right at the end of the song!)

Life is soooo surreal in Tamil movies.

Ahaha...

And during a fight scene, apparently the theory of gravity did not apply because no matter how villain got beaten up and down ala Matrix, the Dhoti (Kain pelikat rather?) never actually showed the man’s undies!

Just an observation dudes and dudettes.

I think...

Men are funny.

And confusing.

There had been a few times when I was actually wishing I was a lesbian.

So that I don't have to deal with emotional, dunno what they want, confused MEN.

Seriously, if you men think that we are pushing you to the edge, let me assure you, you men are not the only ones.

But again seriously, I am honestly not your normal type of woman. I would not nag and contrary to what a certain person thought of me recently, I do not NEED a guy to ‘berkepit with me 24-7’.

C’mon dude, I need space to breath. I have my own life and attractive men to ogle at – lah!

But when you are in a relationship (or kind of – ish), you would need some sort of assurance, and meeting the family is not one of it.

For a starter, calling me and telling me that you are not able to meet up before I check is one. There is also the natural need to find out if I am dead or alive by at least SMS-ing me once a day, and the returning of calls when you are not able to pick it up at the time of the call.

Owh yeah... and isn’t it natural as well for you to at least call on the person that you are sort of in a relationship with at least once a day?

That was what most of my other relationships’ (sort-ish) are like.

Then again I could be wrong. Maybe I am just missing the point. Or maybe I was getting used to all the guilt that was put on me when I was confused about something.

At least until I realised that staying on, made me feel unhappy, because I was accused of not being understanding of the man’s work and ‘habits’ or so called.

Which was never the case. And I know I was right, but the man would never know he was wrong would he?

One fine day I just pulled out the plug and decided to stop, surrender. I wished him well.

I never got the chance to know the man better, and he never had the chance to know me.

But the objective of having a relationship is simple, and how I would put it in plain English is;

HAPPINESS.

And I was not having it then.