The Science of Happiness....Cut!

Hi all!


I've been having a little memory trip just now, randomly picking out some of my older entries and reading them. And yes lah, I do read myself, constantly in fact. Because I keep forgetting all these things that have happened to me.

Which is why I've always said that I love to write only the good stuff. I don't write when I'm depressed and I seldom write depressing things. Although, if you had taken the time to go back my entries, you will realise, as I did, that I was definitely a bigger joker then than now.

I mean....wow....putting 2 pencils under my butt? the falling off the treadmill? the falling during the jog? the saving of the snails? I was laughing myself silly reading my own posts, because it is so much more funny a few years down the road when the embarassment wears off.

So recently, I went through the blog again, but mostly to delete the very last entry from this blog saying something it shouldn't have.

I have written more, but I no longer post them.....because well, the title of this entry is the Science of Happiness afterall...

So is this blog....

So hey guys, thanks for reading me.

Thanks for the patience.

Thanks for all the good times that I put in here, because I put them here to share with you, and in the end, I realised I also am sharing this moment with another younger, happier, funnier Ang Ku Kueh from way back.


I am glad to have known her, so Thank You for letting me do so!


Out!

Older (but no wiser) AKK:)

The Story of a little Girl and her Shadow

Hi all!

Long time no see! I've had this story with me since primary school but it was never developed. This full story took a little while in the making and perhaps is not as innocent as the first version, but nevertheless, Its now here for recordal purposes. So I hope you guys enjoyed it too.

****************************

This is the story of a little girl and her shadow. But well, it became the story of the girl and her shadow because of the little girl and her weight. You see, this girl is, to put a nice ring to it, plump. Mean boys in her school have called her fat. Meaner girls have called her ‘obese’, after learning this word during Health education.

But the minimum that anyone could say, when pressed to describe something about her, will say plump, or chubby.

She was sent to the Trim-And-Fit club in school, where they made her run and do squats every recess. And the teacher eyes the bowl of soup noodles which she bought, making certain there’s no meat but full of veggies.

Please half the portion of your noodles, honey.

Tapping her feet, the teacher spaces out from her standing view of the bunch of ‘fatties’ (her word) settling down to eat meatless soup noodles, wondering how she’s going to get her trim student numbers up by next month.

The world is not nice when you don’t look nice.

Our heroine, was of course, someone who knows that, but is, as most kids her age (9 yrs old), was unable to do anything about it. Therefore, a personality and habit of not caring much, of pretending to turn the deaf ear to the mean boys and meaner girls, of eating more during dinner to make up for the lackluster recess, grew like a mushroom in her. And like those mushroom that huddled beneath tree trunks, she was quiet and unobtrusive and reads a lot- a veritable bookworm.

Because when she reads, she disappears. Goodbye, she’d say to the world, to her mum (who was busy cooking usually, or burping her infant brother), then retreat into another place. She’d pop back when time came for dinner.

So actually, perhaps this is not just a story about a girl and her weight, which became the story of a girl and shadow, but actually the story of a girl and her disappearances.

So, don’t be impatient. I’ll now go straight to the point now we have deciphered her like a scalpel running through skin.

On the way to and from school was a route that takes her through a lonely roadside path littered with street lamps. It was a relatively peaceful place about 20 years ago, which was when the story happened. After a tough session in the TAF club (the teacher upped the number of squats) and her tummy growling, our heroine was uncharacteristically cranky.

As her feet prattles past the street lamps, she kept her head down, watching her shadow shift from behind her feet to the front and elongating as she walked further from one street lamp, then disappearing.

As she approached the next street lamp, her shadow, forever trapped at her feet, casted a long figure behind her, slowly becoming shorter and shorter until she is right beneath the lamp.

Now the shadow becomes a round ball. She was sure if she stood straight up, her shadow would be perfectly round. Disgusting! She thought in disgust. Urggh! Ugly ugly!

She peered past her skirt. Her shadow obliged by growing a small bump where her head was. Her shadow laughs, she’s now a snowman!

She stamped her feet angrily and only got her toes stubbed for her pains. Her shadow is not even bruised.

Our heroine burst into tears. I’m only 9, dammit (her elder brother taught her that)! I’m supposed to be having an adventure! I’m supposed to have 3 siblings and a dog! And my parents are supposed to be explorers lost in a plane crash and all 5 of us are stranded on an island trying to run away from bad guys tracking us down for our inheritance!
A breeze swept through the roadside, causing the trees to sigh in sympathy. She is all alone with the breeze and her shadow and the endless street lamps that curve round the bend.

Stupid girl, her shadow said. You aren’t that bad. Just walk forward. And without much further ado, her shadow propelled her away from beneath the lamp.

Immediately, her shadow lengthened. Every step the bumps softened and merged into a line. Her shadow narrowed and became taller, the roundness disappeared. Our heroine stopped at where she thought gave her shadow the best shape and adjusted her feet till it was just right.

Wow….she thought, I look just like XXX (who was the meanest girl in class, and also the slimmest, smartest……).

How about that, said her shadow. One day, you will look like this. Maybe not now, not tomorrow, but eventually, you will grow to be how I am now. I’m you, I am a part of you, so I know what I’m talking about. Trust me, trust yourself.

Our heroine considered.

And here is where she splits into two.



****************************



In one, our heroine decides to trust her shadow and therefore herself, dried her tears and went home for dinner. For the first time, she did not ask for second helpings and helped her mum mop the kitchen after. This continued for the rest of her growing years.

She became more open while the taunts became less until it was clear if anyone ever tease her about her weight, it was due to mere jealousy and does not hold much….. weight. Her mum naturally became delighted that her daughter seemed a lot more pro-active than before. One who begun taking an interest in looking after her little brother and fought back with the older brother. She even dumped her library activities and joined a sports club. A definite improvement, although she remained a bookworm and read prolifically, she maintained her ‘goodbyes’ too before retreating to her room.

The only peculiar thing she noticed was that her daughter now had a habit of staring at the ground whenever she went and checking the floor behind her, especially where there is light. And sometimes, just sometimes, she appeared a little… thin…, not thin as in her figure, although she was never as plump as she was before, but thin like a bad TV image…More like, her mum decided…flat…

One day, as she walked pass her daughter’s room, she decided to take a peek. Like all mothers, she gave the perfunctory knock, but immediately opened the door, hoping to catch the last known action of the roomer before they discovered they were being watched.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Her daughter’s last known action was reading on the bed. A bad habit that her mum knew never left her. Then her daughter sprang up from the bed and gave a reproachful look, while she gave an inane reason and apologized profusely while nagging her to read properly at her desk. She closed the door and giggled. Her calm daughter caught unawares is something she has not seen in a while. Then she frowned, she was prepared to discount precisely what she thought she saw, but she did thought she saw a definite flicker, like static, running through her daughter just when she opened the door.

The mother, who was once also a prolific reader and full of imaginations before reality caught up in a spin of babies and daily trips to the market and cooking, gave a shrug. Her daughter gave a ready smile as much as any normal child and if she appeared a little more calm than the next, a logical mum was also prepared to discount this little bit of musing for a lot of peace and quiet.

There was a crash and a loud wail. She hurried back to the living room, the past image erased.

And the first half-story ends with our heroine growing up as normal as can be, if a little spacey from time to time and taken to smiling at her shadow. Her shadow and her are in agreement although they were not whole, a regrettable outcome because of the split.




****************************




In the other half story, our heroine considered her perfectly shaped shadow and decided the opposite.

‘I wish I would look like you now.’ She said to her shadow.

You don’t trust me? Her shadow was hurt.

‘I’m 9. I’m supposed to be impatient. Won’t you help me? It would solve all my problems.’ Our heroine pleads. She is aware that something big is going on in the background, but like a fountain that never stops, it was not possible to hear it clearly or even know it exist until it does and the silence reigns.

You don’t know what you are wishing for.

‘But I do! I want the teasing to stop. I want to graduate from the TAF club. I don’t want to be the ‘plump one’ in my family anymore. In fact, why am I talking to myself? And why are you replying?’

Our heroine’s eyes glowed. ‘Is this some sort of alternative universe I’m always reading about? Is there a secret doorway in the lamp post or is it really a wardrobe in disguise and a tiny fairy is going to open it and peep out?’

Our heroine (who is getting less heroic by the minute) waited a moment for the shadow to answer, but the shadow remained silent.

‘But what I want to know is,’ she spoke slowly, ‘Can you really help me? You say I don’t know what I am wishing for, but does that mean I can really make one and it will come true?’ and waited again.

The trees sighed, swaying a little. Faraway, the squaw of a crow cut through the little bubble of silence, but she did not hear it. She understood that she was locked in a Moment, as far as a 9 year old can understand.

Her shadow finally sighed like the trees and explained.

Look, everyone knows alternate universes exist, like the border between life and death, the split in time between choices. Their entrance is both far away and yet gossamer thin.

Our heroine nods, she has read about it too.

An alternate universe did indeed form, her shadow continues, but this one is inside you, your emotions, your musings, your hope and your despairs, whenever you escape somewhere inside yourself.

The little girl frowns. This is a little beyond her.

Think about it, the shadow continues. Did you not feel the lack of the passing of time when you are deeply reading? When a painter paints, he is lost in his alternate world until earthly desires like hunger takes him back. When a student takes his exam, his alternate universe includes both time and whatever knowledge he packs in there and protects him, if he is prepared, from fear and visions of failure.

I have always been an external part of you, intangible, but a part of you nevertheless. Possibly it is the moon, which is full tonight, or the tides, or the alignment of the galaxies and the planets, but whatever it is, this universe has now projected beyond you and now includes me. Beats me why I can converse with you now.

The shadow turns it eyeless face towards her. Or why, if you wish, so you can have what you want just for tonight.

Our heroine’s heart leapt. ‘Really?’ she gasped. ‘Then, shadow, grant me my wish! Let me look like you!’ she spread her hands out, noting that her shadow did the same, except that her shadow’s arms are slimmer and longer and more elegant. Piano fingers.

Please don’t.

‘Grant me.’ She focused. She felt she could see the boundary where her universe was. A thin silver line that formed a dome, encapsulating her and her shadow. The shadow writhed as if pain, but like pain that does not transcend from her stubbed toe to the shadow, the experience was unable to connect to her body. At once, she felt herself slowly stretching and laughed.

It worked! She gazed at her stubby fingers in wonder as they became piano fingers. She felt her body started to stretch and she grew taller. Her tummy narrowed and lengthened. All the while, the buzzing white noise at the edge of her consciousness became louder, more urgent.

She stopped laughing. Something is wrong. Her piano fingers kept elongating and thinning. The stretching seemed endless. Her belly button is starting to hurt now that it’s a long long oval. She saw that as she grew, her shadow got bigger too underneath the lamp light.

With horror, she realized that her wish won’t let her stop growing. Her body and her shadow fed off each other like 2 mirrors facing one another.

See? Her shadow gasped. Make it stop! It hurts!

In fear, she turned and ran towards the light, her long skinny feet covering the distance easily, until her shadow became slightly squat. She felt the blood starting to pool around her bones as the fingers start to shorten. Her feet began to ache less and her head didn’t feel so heavy, but within a few seconds, she is back to the vicious cycle. Her shadow mimicking her short body and her wish mimicking her shadow.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ the little girl sobbed as she became shorter and shorter. There is no way to end the wish. If she ran forward, she’s grow impossibly tall and never stop, if she ran towards the light, she will be a squat flat round thing the circumference of her tummy. She had made the grievous mistake which her shadow had been trying to tell her.

I am a part of you, an extension of you. To become me is to be incomplete, where will the real you be?

While the shadow beseeched her, the little girl pelted back and forth the light until she was wearied. She felt as if the whole process had been a long time, but time is not a factor here. She forced her heartbeat to stop its ferocious thudding and calm down.

Slowly, deliberately, the little girl took control of her panic and pressed herself to take small measured steps. She shifted back and forth so that her body, while continuing to make its adjustments, nevertheless stabilizes to a constant slow pace. Her body had become grotesque as it struggled to mesh itself to the shadow shape during the panic. One arm is distinctly longer than the other while her left foot is a stub.

When she finally had her mind in order, she took a review of the situation. ‘This can’t go on. I’m a wreck.’ The little girl looked at herself. For once, she had liked to have her old body back, fat or not. But a wish cannot be un-wished, everyone knows that.

Be yourself. Go back.

The little girl understood. Swaying back and forth, she concentrated. The white noise in the background she now realized it for what it was. What had happened to her was never real, had never happened. Time is not a factor. She was separate from reality like that cat in the box paradox. If the cat disappears the minute you open the box, does the cat exist? To the cat, it knows it exists, but to the person, it does not.

I am now in a paradox. She thought. This street is my box, no one sees me and I see no one. I exist, but I do not exist fully. Somewhere outside of this, a little girl is currently absent-mindedly fixated on her shadow along the roadside while people walked pass her.

She concentrated. The silver lining glowed and expanded until it was so tall, it included the street lamp casting her shadow. Then frowning fiercely (all the while shifting back and forth), she stare at the lamp, now in her immediate alternate universe.

The lamp bulb burst in a sprinkling of glass and light. In the flickering before all light ceased, the shadow thanked the little girl and the two of them plunged into darkness. Naturally, the wish, looking at the absence of light, which cast no shadow, mimic nothing.

The girl in her alternate universe, created by her hopes and dreams and her escapades before dinner, whom sought to become her shadow and was incomplete, vanished. The white noise rushed in to fill the void as the current universe crashed in.



****************************



Our heroine blinked. Outside everyday noises once again flowed through her ears. The loud squaw catches her attention. She looked up to see a crow picking lice off itself on the street lamp, which was back on.

She patted herself. She was as plump as before. No changes there. Her shadow was like any other, a devoid of light caused by shining on an opaque object. But to be on the safe side, she said loudly to no one in particular.

‘I trust you and I’m sorry.’ Then she smiled and walked home.



******************



**The cat in the box paradox in this story is a simplified version of Schroedinger’s Cat paradox on quantum physics and the Falling Tree paradox. Unless we see and hear something, does it in actual fact exists or is it in a state of supposition? The current paradox can also be reversed. If a cat only appears everytime you open the box, does the cat exist when the box is closed?



Out,

AKK

Listening with a smile....

Hi all!


I’m currently typing away in my darling lappy (4 years and still surviving! Take that, Mac!!!) with the stereo blasting away my current favourite album. I had just spend the last hour mopping the whole house and A is out swimming.


The whole house is mine and mine alone….


Ah....Bliss…….


OK lah, I admit I like the couple life. Every decision I can’t make, someone can make for me. Every hug I give, I get one in return. Every meal I make, I make extra.


But sometimes... sometimes... even 2 people in 1 house can be too crowded, especially when you don’t lock the doors. You know you aren’t alone and that enough can stop you from doing exactly what you wanted, like blasting music...


In fact, being considerate can be tiring.


So today for that 1 hour break of me-time….I am drumming out this post.


Today’s entry is a bit irrelevant and redundant. It’s about music, specifically music coming from my sound system. It’s Chinese R&B. It’s soft and sweet and dreamy. It’s upbeat and sad and hopeful. It’s heartache and promises.


I’m listening to it and thinking of the person who gave it to me. He is much like this album….


I bet you are asking me, Woah! What does that mean? What does AKK mean?


Well frankly, you don’t have to suspect anything actually; it means exactly what I am saying.


I'm saying that I like the album very much and I like the person who gave it to me very much too.


Perhaps a little too much.


So...


I wanted this blog to be honest, an outlet that blows the silent part of me wide open like a fresh gust of wind through fresh laundry. I want this place to be the place I can say anything without censure because I want to be the one to admit that I am not perfect. That I’ve got my base desires, that I’ve got this dark side of me, that I’ve got my roving eyes and my fantasies.


Anonymously anyway.


And yet, every time I try to write something honest, I think about the people who know me, my friends, Chwee Kueh…the everyday people who read my blog and I hesitate, not only because I am a coward and don’t dare to show myself to be less morally upright than I should, but also because I don’t want to disappoint the multitudes of people who believes in fairy tales, the Oddball and the Prince Charming coming together in the burst of romance.


How can the Oddball now possibly think of anyone else other than the irascible Prince Charming? Audacious, you say. But mostly, you meant Ungateful.


But as the tracks spin themselves and the stereo wraps me like a soft cocoon, all I can think about is why?


Why can’t I stop these lips from quirking? I hastily slapped my face with both hands.


There’s a lot of things that can run through the mind everyday, but nailing them into words gives them a permanent address and a definite personality….


So perhaps I shall just end this here….


Perhaps there will be a second parter that announces to that this post was a mistake….


Perhaps like the PPQ volume, I wish to put myself under my own scrutiny and run it out like a drama, willing myself to go and face my own Life, question its worth, questions its morals, question its beliefs.


Whatever. For now, the music hums throughout the whole house and I am doing my little bobbing akin to the Muppets in Sesame Street. For now, my thoughts are only mine. For now, there’s only me.


Que Sera Sera…




Out!


AKK

Quitting....long overdue

“Quitting while you are ahead….

Is not the same as quitting…”

So says the Vietnam Drug Lord to Denzel Washington in the show American Gangster.

It’s with ang-ku-kueh typicality that I should be so inspired, not by the Dalai Lama, not by Gandhi, not even by Obama, but rather a Hollywood film featuring 1 bad guy sprouting words of wisdom to another bad guy, who soon will end up in jail for ‘murdering the young of America’ during the 80s.

But it’s true, I’m throwing in the towel. I’m giving up. It’s been 7 months since I shifted to the new workplace and now I’ll be moving on again. I think its kind of pathetic, to admit that hey, you really can’t take this kind of work/working environment/boss/office politics etc etc,. Its like that 10-km Nike Human Race that I joined. I ran and ran and ran and I thought, I should have ran about halfway already…and then seeing the huge banner flapping happily at me, ‘you hit 2km! 8 more to go!’ That sinking feeling from the heart to the tummy is simply relentless!

Or the time I studied a whole week and all night just for a simple math test in JC. Getting so stressed my butt-cheeks clenched and I couldn’t sit down. Going to the 24-h clinic at 12 midnight while the doc spend 5 min poking my butt and shaking his head. Then turning down his offer to give me 2 days’ MC so I can skip the test. And finally doing my test in the sickroom perched right at the edge of the chair.

And yet not only failing the test, but failing it so miserably. It just makes you cry, man.

Which was basically which I did when I got another job. I cried like a miserable sod becos I was so strung up and out by my workplace. It drowned me, tumbled me, then wrung me out and hung me in the sun to dessicate.

I thought Public sector was bureaucratic, but wow, I tell you from the bottom of my heart, this place is much worse. I knew something was wrong when my dad ended up in ICU and my boss refused to let me leave because a work emergency cropped up. That was at 7.30pm in the evening. It’s not late, but by the time I could leave my work, my mum told me to go home cos visiting hrs are over.

I stopped eating for a period because eating make me sleepy and I couldn’t afford to relax. It was a steady stream of concentration from start to finish. I even stopped drinking fluids because every second counts. I was fasting from 9am to 10pm and yet at the end of the day, I had cleared only a tenth of the shit the predecessor had left.

My skin condition started failing. I was getting rashes and breakouts along my neck. I started having panic attacks again. I think about my deadlines all the time. Everyone tells me to relax and let go of my work. But I couldn’t! Every deadline is money, every missed deadline is $400 a pop, no negotiations, no mercy. How I wish I could just scream a colourful string of expletives and just do what I can during office hours, and let go at the end of the day. But I cannot, probably because I take things too seriously, much like that Math test. So I was working minimum 10 hour days and constantly high-strung.

Now I know why some ppl can get heart attack at work.

So one day I finally admitted defeat and say, ‘I think I’ve had enough.’ I had been crying during work because of work, hiding in my cubicle and saying I’ve got a cold, something which I never thought I will be doing. Pride had been roundly beaten up and tortured enough that it is now shakily waving a white flag. Arrogance had been backed into a corner by Fear and now whimpers sorry sorry sorry….

How hard it was to admit defeat.

The hard work has paid off though. The portfolio is almost finally cleansed and the dirt from the 3 predecessors (staying power: 1 year; 3 months ; 2 weeks) is dwindling, what was once a massive gigantic nuclear bomb the size to hit Hiroshima is now a mere embassy-hostage situation. My boss now discovers my full potential as the mighty oxen, the employee who never says no, who never complains, who never misses a deadline even when her dad was carted into NUH.

How hard it is to admit that even as I turned the portfolio around and made it well again, I don’t want to stay and I don’t want to continue in this line of work.

How hard it is to admit that, yes, given just another month, I can wrestle my work to become more manageable, everything will turn out better, but I refuse to stay because I hate those deadlines.

It’s that kind of heart-sinking feeling that the miles that you ran, on and on and on……it seemed like a hundred years, but it was barely 6 months- a blimp in the life of a person.

So yah…. taking the quote of Mr Vietnam Drug Lord

“Quit while you are ahead…”

It ain’t the same, man, as quitting, but boy did it sure feel like it.

So now the new place…..well…definitely there’s no where to go but up.

Busy busy! You guys take care!

Out!

Ang Ku Kueh

Atypical Message of Love

Hi all!

I'm Back! It's been a torrential pass 6-8 months for me and man, did I need that much time to clean up my Life and my messes. But everything's OK now! And I am now trying to get back to being as happy as I was in 2007, somewhere round there I think.

But anyways, thanks to technology, I wrote an email to my beloved parents. I'm proud to have a mum who has an internet email address, although she never remembers it and asks Dad for it, since dad was the one who set it up for her.

I think she has come a long way from being a housewife whose horizons are the 5 by 5m of the HDB flat we all stayed in to being a kindergarten teacher whose horizons has widen beyond the schoolroom, albeit at a lowered angle of vision.

I wish for her now to expand beyond that, pass the schoolroom, pass the teacher's office, pass the local papers (which is written in a pro-govt language). I wish for her to see between the lines accurately and I wish for her to lose her sense of self-pity. In fact, I wish for her the ability to dissociate, because not everything that happens in the family is because of her. Siblings quarrel and fight. Perhaps when we are younger, we use nails, teeth and knuckles. But of cos, as we grow older, the ammunition become less physical, more mental.

Of cos, the weapons you cant see are always the ones that hurt the most, because the hurt continues even after they are withdrawn. In fact, even after the apologies.

But hey, that's Life and that's siblings. There is a reason why we are related by blood. Because water leaves no stains and no responsibility.


But as usual, i digress. i wish to publish an email to wrote to my parents just today. I don't know why i feel I should do this or even why my first post after such a long absence should be this particular email.

I think maybe, I just want to say, although i miss my blog, I miss my family more.

I wish for all of you that you can communicate with your parents like the way i am doing now. i am lucky this way.



here goes (almost verbatim):


Hi Pa and Ma,

I confirmed that I gave 1k to Ma in Dec hor (no wonder I no savings in Dec and Jan). From now on, all those ITR codes in the bank books are from me. ITR means Internet Transfer, only i do it, i think.

Actually I feel like splitting the house money to pass to you both leh, because I think Ma never check, always assume I never give (quite a few times liao), can be very upsetting and I feel quite unappreciated. Sometimes I don't give that month because I'm cash-strapped, but I always give more later to pay off the debt. I think not only should Ma not forget it but know that I am trying very hard.

So the 'fan xing' she tell me to do...I think she should do it herself. She should think long and hard. I'm not staying with you guys anymore and I have my own loans and living expenses. I don't have free board and food and I don't earn a lot, but I try my best to not only give money to you but I also try to show my appreciation in other ways because I know you two seldom try anything new. Just don't forget that I love you both very much, so although certain things can say, never say I don't care or compare with the other siblings concerning money. On the issue of caring, I think I'm equal. I also got more heart.

Sorry to put this in lah, but after talking with Mum just now, Im really quite sad because I think she loves to make split judgments without thinking. I don't think i should be more accommodating or tolerant because she is old and cannot change, if I do that, I'll never talk to her about important things, hahah.

I don't think she wants that and if she doesnt, she really should try and change because I've already changed alot. I don't scream at her just because I cannot get her to understand anymore, a blessing certainly. But it doesnt mean she has changed to understand me better. She is still the same, talking without thinking.

Ok lah, enough. Don't worry about this email lah, I just need to get this off my chest. If Pa is going to translate this message to Ma, then Pa, you must do it carefully, don't make this situation like the car thing with Bro, ok? Thanks ah. And Ma, if you are reading this, then you also be very careful to digest the whole message that I am telling you, not just the 1-2 points you can remember and then start thinking all the wrong thoughts. I write here because I am quite sure if I try to tell you on the phone, you will immediately find the first excuse to say sorry and forget about the whole thing and not actually learn from the whole situation.

Sorry is a very easy word to say but not very easy to act on.

And you two ah, I love you both very much, ok? Please see with your eyes big big hor! I may not be home or you may not see me very often, but I am working long hours, so if I don't call or anything, it does not mean I don't care.

Cheers ah and enjoy your weekend!

Ah Kueh



Will post every now and then for our guys. Miss you all.

Out!
AKK

my new place...

Hi all!

It's been 4 months since i last wrote.




I'm not dead yet.





But I'm barely alive.





I took a change in environment.





And i realised that in the space of the age of this blog, I have changed my working environment twice......





I'm working 12 hour days....





I have no regrets.





I need to sleep now....just popped in to put in a few words and to say to my frens out there....






I'm still alive! Gasping for breath and several cards away from the full deck...but still alivE!





out!


AKK
XXOOXOO

Life of Us Ikan Bilis. Vol 1

(For all characters featured beforehand like Jane, Keisha and the Scotsman, pls read the last Ping Pong Queen series to refresh memory. Ed featured here is from The Phone Call)

Hi all!




Perhaps it is time for a confession.


I haven’t been blogging because very simply, I’ve been depressed. And true to the akk creed, I couldn’t write much when I’m down and out. Even funny things gets forgotten in the haze of dumbed down panic. As I mentioned before, there has been a re-structuring going on at my workplace. Not just a re-structuring, but also a re-shuffle. One beer-filled Saturday, Keisha mumbled over the glass that she and Jane (both same section) are going to move their lab a few levels up. Next thing I know, their cubicles are standing empty in the office, every memorabilia gone, even the 3M hooks on the wall that Jane used to hang up her jacket.


2 days later, I moved my own cubicle to Jane’s old one while someone else took up Keisha’s. Both of them had been the early staffers so their cubicle spaces were prime locations. Pragmatically it was the right thing to do, so now I never had to check my back nor put up a mirror to see who’s behind me, but somehow it was all different. I fretted incessantly over them while they were away, because I was used to their presence and their chit chat while they had been around. I was used to having them message me on MSN even when they were just a cubicle away, usually to gossip because we were eavesdropping on PPQ’s loud voice on the telephone.


Now I wondered if they were well, being under TWO new bosses instead of the original Scottish bloke. I had heard stories and frankly, just this issue of the TWO bosses would have warrant a ‘chronicles’ status, but my heart wasn’t in it to invest time and effort writing about them when it was without doubt that my 2 good frens have been silently suffering.


But for the sake of comprehension, here’s the round-up so far. If you all remember, Ed has been introduced once here as the director of my department. He came to replace the one who had originally hired me (the BB aka Big Boss) because BB decided he wanted to increase his golf time during the work week. Ed was originally sent here to resolve the issue of the company’s direction. I guess you can say that during then, things were already getting loopy.


Ed turned out to be quite a welfare person, which was a pleasant surprise, but he was a stranger to the company and the company had been rolling down a straight path to destruction. Much like a train with bad brakes down a gently sloping track. It was slow but unstoppable. Among many things, he inherited the department’s politics, which was a whole hog of mixed hierarchy: middle bosses having higher authority in some cases than directors in other departments because their own directors held more power.


Hey, I didn’t say mine wasn’t a big company. It was one of the largest, if you think hard enough, I’m sure you know where I work.


It was extremely weird how the TWO bosses managed to chap-jit-kah in. First, there was already a middle boss for Keisha and Jane, the Scot. Apparently the director from another department wanted to move the whole technology section undertaken by the 3 over to his own side for his own purpose (ie. Drive his own department research). Our BB, for all his golfing ways, had at least been very clear that the whole department should not be split up, and was sufficiently unafraid of that director, since he had clout of his own.


And then, call it conspiracy or plain coincidence, BB suddenly declared he was transferred to another place with less work and confessed his deep yearning for more time of his own. He gave us all a big pat on the back, a good increment and Ed, whom we have never seen before.


Then almost immediately, the director-from-the-other-department released his favourite TWO middle bosses into our midst and expertly whinge out the Scotsman. Within 3 months, Jane and Keisha had been physically moved from our office and the lab had been dismantled and assembled 7 floors up.

That had been the turning point for me. For a while everyone of us ikan billis struggled to keep a happy face, it was definitely a time of great unrest and lots of change. We had a mini party to celebrate the gals’ move ‘Up-the-ladder’ and everyone took a tour of their new lab space and cubicle. We joked that at least now they could see the sun (no surprises for guessing which level we worked in). I folded 2 pairs of origami mandarin ducks for them for love and romance luck, then feng-shui their cubicle so the ducks were placed in the right direction.


For a while, they joined us for our lunches, a communal activity which we never stopped practising.

Then they came less and less. Their work piled up. The TWO bosses started working them real hard. They came to work earlier and earlier (7.30am) and left later and later (9pm). The stories started coming, not from the gals, but from ikan billis in the other departments, saying these 2 bosses worked like a demolition team, they bulldoze anyone who steps in their way. And I’m sure you ask, why 2?

Ah…because they are a husband and wife team. They always did things together. Too bad they still charge double salary. In any ordinary organisation, unless it’s family, I’ve never heard of such a situation, another indication to tell you where I’m working at. For purposes of convenience, since they are a couple, I’ve taken the liberty of putting their initials together to give them a collective name here. It’s really not my fault that one is called Kindermann and the other is Norse (sirname). It would not be too much also to ask if they had carved their initials on a tree somewhere in Jolly England, where they crawled from, encased in a heart, the initials KNN, but it would be much too much to hope they had ever been young, much less have romance in their gritty soul.

It was good to know that the hokkien dialect can transcend language and geography to describe so succinctly, the essence of these two, in their names alone. I bow to the superiority of the Hokkien dialect and am proud to be one. Long live the colourful language.


Emails came in hard and fast from KNN after that, stating that the 7th floor lab under restricted entry and if any of us wants to visit, we’d have to call KNN to open the door for us. Then came the email from Jane and Keisha pleading that all emails work-related are to be sent to KNN, without CC-ing them. Because, in the words of both, ‘They want to know everything and they don’t like us to know anything that they knew.’ Now whenever we call them using the lab line for work issues, KNN picks up the phone with a stony ‘yes?’.


‘erm.’ The ikan billis will quake. ‘Can I speak with Jane? There’s a delivery order for the lab concerning the new fridge and she is the purchaser.’

‘no, you can’t.’

Simple as that.

‘Er.’ And the Ikan billis gulped, but she rallies, ‘Is she busy? Because this is important.’

A pause, then…

‘Yes, she’s been really busy. She’ll only be free next month. In fact, both the gals are up to their necks in work and I’d appreciate you not bothering them with such unnecessary details. You can pass me the problem.’

‘Erm…erm….’


‘Right. Just email me the details. Good bye.’ Click.




Jane and Keisha have been relegated to menial workers with no voices. On the rare occasion when they did come down to get some items that had left during the move, everyone would stop work and ask them how they were. But just by looking at them, we didn’t have to ask. In that short time, they had lost a lot of weight, they had dark circles under their eyes and they look malnourished. Keisha's ribs had come out. Now, even PPQ is silent and no longer ribbing Keisha about weight issues. Jane, who had always been lanky, was now a shadow.


Sitting in Jane's old cubicle, hidden from the crowd, I cried that day.


====================================

Oh well, I guess today’s post will become a 2-3 parter after all. They will cover the following issue.
1. How a boycott started, how a team building issue became a contension. How Jane has now stpped all communication with me and we are no longer frens. How one half of the KNN eventually became our supervisor. How Ed may be leaving...


Yup, you heard right. Life as Ikan Bilis....crap.

That’s it for now, I think. It will only get worse, so for those looking for happy fluffy stuff to read about, try not to click in for this month.

Thanks all.


Out,
AKK

World is such a small place...

Hi all!




I know I MIA, but seriously hor, it’s because I was really really really (!) busy leh. In fact, I was actually doing work! You know, that thing that ppl do in order to get money? In fact, part of the reason I didn’t blog was because of some internal re-structuring occurring in the company and we are all doing real work, fake work and picking up after everybody kinda work, so long as you look busy, just in case the re-sturcturing doesn’t include your name on its list.

I just had to share this though, because it is not actually the coincidental-ness of the whole thing. It was more like the thinking process of it. Most ppl always wonder about a thought and ask, ‘hmm…where did that come from?’ But no, not me! For better or worse, I’m blessed with the kind of thought process that I actually track to arriving at an answer. Here’s an example:


Walking towards the entrance of RafflesCity --> see Robinson --> think about last time, it wasn’t Robinsons that stood there, but SOGO --> reminisce a bit about SOGO--> remember the logo of SOGO , which is a blue bow --> shape of the bow look like sweet --> want eat sweet --> reminisce about the Marks & Spencers that is now occupied by Body Shop --> think about my fav M&S sweet --> wine gums, fruit gums, toffee crunch --> Go Jason’s buy sweet --> eat sweet --> M&S sweet nicer --> Stone.

Back to the story: So I actually went to the US for a short conference. It was a single stopover from Seoul. Hubby A tagged along to keep me company, thank goodness for him.


And the world was so small that when I was lining up at the departure gate at Changi, a shadow loomed over me, and I found that this really tall man in a suit was blocking the white lights, his back towards me. Oh man, his back view looked really familiar. And there I was, trying to take a peek at his face, I was pretty sure I knew this person. The worse thing was that he was gripping a cup of coffee, and I was sure that person whom I think he is likes his kopi too.


So there I was considering all my options and the thought process starts whirring away….
a) Tap his shoulder?
b) Accidentally knock into him so he’ll turn around?
c) Jab his expensive leather shoes and ankles with my rolling luggage?
d) Throw my sweater onto the floor beside him so he’ll bend down and pick it up same time with me? If you don’t remember this trick, you were too young to have seen that parfum spray commercial about 15 yrs ago….
e) Have a coughing fit.
f) Sms that Fren’s HP and scare him Enemy-of-the-State-Style with ‘Fren, don’t lim another sip of kopi if you don’t want the whole world to know how loud you gargle, because there’s a bug in your wedding ring….’
g) Just bloody call him on his HP.

Imagine how tired I was having all these suggestions running through my head and still in the meanwhile, that idiot just won’t turn around and save me from doing anything stupid…. A had one eyebrow risen, looking at me typing on the HP and taking off my sweater at the same time, ‘ahem’ing all the way.


And then….and then…….. the shadow changed….


And the moment how we said ‘hi’ shall forever escape my memory.


----_______----



The reason why the entry was so late was because while I absolutely remembered all the tactics doing a cross-country in my brain, I absolutely forgot what happened the next few minutes.


Was it that horrendous that I choose to forget? Cannot be leh, can it? Because he is still responding on MSN, so shouldn’t be that bad. Right?


Like the comic strip with the middle panel missing, I went from having a war with my sweater, coughing TB-coughs to sitting sandwiched between Meepok and A waiting for boarding.


In any case, it’s really Meepok. The long-distance runner with the go-li eyes who succeeded in pacing pass the lao-ah-pek at the Standard Chartered Race in 2006.


One thing I remembered though. When he saw me, he immediately checked his flight ticket to see if it was the right plane…..


Choujidan ….


Out!

AKK

More Tears over Scrambled Eggs...

Hi all!



I’m now back at my old home, sitting on the floor of Chwee Kueh’s room, enjoying the aircon and his collection of sad Chinese love songs blaring away. Essentially, I’m resting and my heart’s been peaceful for the past few hours, thanks to my family members' proximity and my mum's double-boiled soup.

I know I don’t talk much about the sadder aspects of my Life that i encounter, usually because I think its boring and it ain’t funny, so there’s no point.

But today, I’ve decided to break this rule a little bit and let some seep through. It’s my gal fren. I believe I have featured her here before under Tears over Scrambled Eggs. She’s that fren of mine who’s got those great legs and loves her hubby.

Sometimes the conversations are too long to remember and too sad to recall, so here are some of the snippets of the many long conversations we’ve have had since the fateful day she decided to open up. I appreciate that you guys really do care and am surprised by some of the comments I’ve been getting for that entry. But its true that during that time, you can call it an isolated incident and dismiss it.


Well, unfortunately, now you can’t. Not when things are going from bad to worse.


Here’s a summary of the things that have been going on. Firstly, as I said, the 2 of us are very similar, we got married pretty early and had a great start ie, a career, a loving husband, a car. We studied a lot and made the best of our education.


Of cos the big question is a big fat ‘So What?’


Since they were married, the husband has been a successful public servant. Successful is easy to explain in civil service terms, it just meant he can do his job and is more capable than normal and commands the respect of his subordinates. He himself is a cheerful and forceful person who believed the world his oyster. To give him his due, the turnover rate at his department tripled after he left because there was no morale left.


Then the bad stuff began to happen. To say he was ill-prepared wasn’t really true. Academically he had a double masters (he is indeed an LKY-loyalist), but socially, he did not expect to meet head-on rejection from companies who tell him he had ‘no experience’, too ‘academically-senior’, ‘post too junior’, ‘overqualified’, ‘jobscope don’t fit your resume’. One of the worse was definitely ‘sorry, but we have had some bad experience with ex-government employee, I’m afraid we cannot consider you.’


Meanwhile, my fren held the fort by working and saving, and watched her once happy and optimistic husband transform into a bitter, haunted man.


When he finally got a job offer after 6 months, they were both overjoyed. But it turns out the female was a witch and working for her was, in his words, ‘horrific’. Then came their first quarrel. It was over money and over sacrifices.


'But Dear, we need the money.’


‘I cannot stand being there anymore! Can you understand the torture having to del with her everyday?’


‘But, the money…’


‘The money, the money!! Is that all you ever think about?!! What about me?’


‘Well, at least stay till you get another job. I’m not earning enough for the both of us.’


‘No, I can’t! I can’t stay another day!’


‘Why can’t you be Stronger!’


‘Why can’t you Understand!?”


‘But I do understand! I understand that you are NOT willing to just stick around and earn the money that we need.’


‘I don’t want that bitch’s money!’


‘Well, I want! We NEED IT!!


‘Shut up! Just SHUT UP! If you love me, you’ll support me!’


So the ultimatum came out in a burst of all that anger. Unwilling, but not knowing what to do, she dried her tears and said, ‘of cos I love you.’ Then they kissed and made up. He quit and the witch docked his pay. They were now back to square one.


On the surface was a happy cheerful couple who loved each other, but the rot has started invading. The only blessing they had was that both their families were healthy, happy and independent.


The huge relief she felt was gone, all those times when she thought her eyes would brim but couldn’t find a quiet spot in the office for some peace has come back with a vengeance. She started wearing her armor of cheerfulness and cheerleader-mentality again (you can do it, hubby!), and found solace in hope. Hope that things will go well, that things will be OK. She kept up a litany of these sayings both for herself and her husband, who sometimes cried himself to sleep. Thankfully, and this she told me in all honesty, chuckling, ‘At least I’ve finally found that quiet spot in the office. You wouldn’t believe the amount of security cameras they’ve got there!’


Then after another 3 months, he got another offer. She called me up and screamed her joy in my fragile ears. The pay was better and the big boss seemed good. On her part, she had hung on to her own work, it was her first job but she excelled in it enough to get a pay rise. She seldom talked about her work. Her excuse being that my eyes will glaze. The only reference from it I ever got from her was, ‘Some customers can be such jerks, Akk, I wouldn’t know where to start.’


‘This time, I’m sure it’s gonna work!’ She chirped. Then inexplicably and yet, explicably, she broke down when I agreed with her. Yup, it seems all good, I said to her.


I would love to end the story here, to give you all a great ending. I’d love to say that she’s happier than she’s ever been, that her hubby’s doing well and so is she. I’d like to say to you readers what she used to tell me after every call, that finally everything’s going to be OK, everything’s going to be fine.


This time he lasted 4 months. There was no quarrel, just an amicable discussion that if he stayed there any longer, he’ll become a shell of himself. Does she want to have him wake up every morning depressed and emotionally wrought, to go against himself, just so that he could bring home the bacon, or does she want him to retain his sanity?


And she, who has been suffering already from his bouts of depression and hopeless anger during those months, gave him a hug and said, in all truthfulness, ‘I don’t think I can be happy if you aren’t.’ He did not note the irony. He left again without another job. They agreed, that while he looked for another job (again), he would try being an insurance agent.


Thankfully, her subconscion somehow had refused to believe her ‘everything will be OK’ self-delusion, so she had been diligently saving as much as she could, because the past few months of unemployment had almost wiped out their joint account savings after it wiped out his.


The past 4 months saw him struggling, both trying to sell insurance and trying to find a job. Its true that he was happier than when he was in the previous company, but she noted, with extreme dejection, that he did not seem to be selling much insurance although he packed his days meeting people. He was trying his best and doing all the right things, so she did not complain.


And then the day she dreaded came, they had finally used up their joint savings, the bulk of which was hers. Last week, he shame-facedly asked her to settle his credit card bills and car instalments. The car, which was his prized possession, was to be their undoing. One day in the car, he admitted that there were no job offers and she tentatively asked him if he could let go of the car or sell the house.


‘What do you mean?’ his voice grew cold.


‘We can’t afford the car and house anymore.’


‘We’ll need to top-up even if I sell the car now.’


‘No, I meant to sell the car and use public transport.’


‘What happen to your ‘everything’s going to be all right'?’ he accused, the air in the car had become frigid.


Then before she could answer, which was just as well, he lost his temper.

‘Do you know how little confidence and self-worth I have left in myself? How can you ask me to sell away those very things that at least gave me an indication that I was once successful!’ And he slammed this palms on his steering wheel and shouted while she cried.

‘How could you!!’


‘How could he?’ she moaned to me. ‘My money, he’s using my money…. Soon we’ll have none…’


‘There there….’ I soothed, my own fingers hastily groped for Kleenex while my ear was plastered to the phone.


‘I love him and I hate him! I hate him! I’ve never been this unhappy!’ she wailed while I wiped my own eyes.


‘And I can’t leave him, I don’t have the strength to, I can’t bear to ….Oh Akk,’ she sobbed. ‘What should I do?’


I cried too. What can she do?


I need a breath.


Out,


Akk

Letter to a Friend Vol. 2

Hi all!


Long time no write. I OK lah, no worries, I am AKK afterall. :) Thanks for all the help, encouragement and understanding. Today is thankfully a light-hearted entry, in fact it's a glimpse into my working world, so all the censorship applies. Oh yes, pls excuse my Klatchian, this is how i write my 'fren' emails.....

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++=


Written to my fren who is now based in New Jersey very recently.......

Dear XXX XXX,

So glad you are having a nice time and that everything over there is very good, minus the sleeping arrangements. Don't care about the guy and do whatever you want. Ay, be careful wor, he is still a man hor, so you bathing or changing clothes must be careful of hidden cameras or peepholes....all men are lechers (Except my hubby)!

In any case, my life is steadily going worse! Could it be that I put my feng shui stuff wrongly? Firstly, big boss keep asking me to change the xxxxxx design, little bit here and little bit there, but to the printer, it's still a totally new pic!! So the printer uncle scolded me because I made him change so many times! Aiyo, so embarrassing, I kept saying sorry sorry, so uncle now qi xiao a bit, so not too bad. They say they can finish the printing by the deadline, pls pray for me leh!

Then my XXX head is as horrible as ever, really all talk and no action you know! I almost burst an artery talking to him! Friday supposed to print the XXXXXX poster to put them up in XXXXXX, but something wrong with our printer, so he say he'll settle it on Monday. I ask him also if he got approval to put up the posters, he say dun have! I ask him to do it about 1 month ago leh! The Bastard!


Then he say he settle the approval on Monday, so I relac and took leave on Monday, when I came back, he print the posters but never ask the approval, and then hor when big boss ask him if he can start selling the XXXXXX, he never think properly through, just say YES! What the -fucking Fucker!


Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckThe Fucking idiot! He had to tell me that after I saved his arse looking for the ppl to get the approval when I came back on Tuesday. I got the -fucking approval in ONE day! I was so angry! He never do ANYTHING, then anyhow say YES, now must stress for him! The fucking idiot! I tell him cannot becos the XXXXXX not ready! How can he just agree before consulting the committee? We know so much more than him about the going-ons. Then he say boss ask him to market the XXXXXX, I was like HUH??!! Since when the PUBLICITY team need to MARKET the event? It’s the fucking job for the fucking MARKETING team!!!!!


-BEEP-!

And horribly, all these happen yesterday! And I was doing dissection the whole day leh, got no time, only ended at 9pm! The poor mice lor! All 7 of them (I very slow, I know). Then must do all these things, 'nothing' things. Fuck lah.

Then in the midst of all the excitement? We got a fire in XXXXXXX!!! In the middle of cutting mouse no. 4’s stomach, may Buddha rest its tiny soul, there was an alarm, then an announcement. You know how it is lor, 'pls standby for further instructions' the intercom lady said....

But the Lady never got back with her SECOND announcement!!! Wah LAN eh!!!! We all die fiery death in XXXXXXX liao!!! Speculate that the lady ran away without telling us to run away too!

Another &*&^%$ idiot!!!


Okie, my therapy session end liao, gotta go. BTW, I went for the slimming massage, now I got fucking Bruises for thighs....


Seeya!

AKK

I can't talk right now...

Hi all,



I never intended for this to be a sad blog.


When I was still crushing on my ex, I had 3 volumes of diary filled to the brim with the angst and unspent passions of a pubescent girl in the throes of her first serious crush. When I finally got him after waiting in the wings about 2 years, before finally saying goodbye in the 11th month, I continued the diaries, adding 2 more volumes. Pages and pages of roller-coaster emotions, enough happiness to sing and run around in stormy weather, jumping and laughing and gasping for joyful breath, licking raindrops, then another page dissecting my relationship down to its most miniscule excuses, looking for the reasons why he didn’t want to spent more time with me, what did I do wrong, why am I all empty inside, so on and forth. Pages and pages of guilt, remorse and regret, then anger and denial, then tears and loss.

Then I stopped writing. Because every word hurts. Even the happy ones, the innocent entries starting off with hope of seeing him and going out for a movie, knowing in the next entry, somebody changed his mind about meeting again.

During those days, I wrote because I was too emotional. This unburdening of words will come spewing out like a can of shaken cola, so I wrote to dispel them all in neat little letters or angry scribbles that gashes the pages. I wrote them all down so like snarling animal, I could then lock it all up and put it away, the eminent danger of that choking emotion having no chance to surface in the form of self-mutilation or whatever it was girls do to draw attention away from emotional pain.

Since then, I had found calm and peace. Then later, I found forgiveness and forgetfulness. If not for the diaries, I would be at a loss to remember exactly what happened during those years of my life. Once the worst of the hormones have passed, Life became more tranquil.

I’ve grown up. Happiness is something I’ve always appreciated, whereas happiness was more like a ticket to the moon previously, happiness now is like a cup of hot coffee in your hands whilst standing in cold weather. So equally does the sadness melt from an angry funeral pyre to smothering ashes.


I digress again, as usual.

What I meant to say is:

I’m glad I’m grown up.
I’m glad I don’t feel bone-crushing emotions anymore.
I’m glad I’m now in control.



What I really meant to say is:


There is a crack in AKK’s Life. Always has been, just never written down, not even said.


Like my diaries, perhaps the next entry will be a happier one.

I never intended for this to be a sad blog.


Sorry.

Love, AKK

The Phone Call

Hi all!

Truth to tell, life has been a little more than hectic. I’m very sure that work is now under control, but in the meantime I’m studying after office hours. Actually, I’m sure that’s under control too. So I guess it must be the 7 games of scrabbles I’ve been playing on Facebook, which is not allowing me to blog as much. I’m still heady from earning 77pts for the word ‘moorier’ which I didn’t even knew existed


But hey, not to worry! While I was away on hiatus, I’ve been collecting pieces of short stories to revile you with.


Story 1: The phone call.



A typical day in the office, camera sweeps the room on a Monday morning, which is starting to bustle for the day’s activity and lands on an empty cubicle filled with unwashed cups and coffee dregs. The telephone rings, but no one is there to pick up AKK’s call. The other colleagues have their own lines. After a while, the telephone goes silent and in a sudden burst of flurry, AKK rushes into the office cubicle to dump her bag and hastily picked up her office phone, after dropping it once.

‘Hello hello?’ the other end is silent. And then there was a buzz emanating from the bag AKK has just dumped onto the floor.


‘Jidan!’ and the next flurry of movement saw her smashing the office phone back and rammaging through…



‘Hi!’ the handphone was unclamped and jammed to her head.



A familiar voice came through tentatively



‘May I speak with AKK? Ed here.’



AKK heaved a huge sigh of relief. It wasn’t a customer, Fren Ed had been chatting with her on msn yesterday.


‘Ohhhh hi…it’s you! Been looking for you!’


‘You have?’ an curious uplift in the voice. ‘good, been looking for you too, you have time to spare?’


‘Sure sure! I’m going to the toilet, so no prob.’


‘Er….i dun need to know that.’


‘That’s what I usually say if I need a break lah, no worries.’


‘Really?’


‘All the time, man. So what’s up?’


‘I need a favour.’


‘Sure. What do you need?’



A sense of foreboding crept through while AKK’s mouth rambles on, she is vaguely aware that her peanut cranium, usually sluggish pre-kopi, is starting to warm up and run. Something’s happening here, but she isn’t registering yet.


‘I need you to write a memo.’


‘Memo? What memo?’ the brain decides to revved up suddenly. And a flood of ESP subconscion decides to finger itself out through her head.


The voice paused, as if realizing something is wrong also, then responded slowly, as if testing out an idea.


‘Erm, I need you to write a memo…for your project….’


An extra large finger flicked AKK’s grey matter with a huge TONK!


A nail falls and a bulb lit up. The sense of foreboding casts its net and envelopes AKK like spidey’s web with unadultered anxiety.


‘Memo....’ I quavered. ‘A memo, for my project? As in, work project?’


There was a smile underneath that tone. It had figured out and was enjoying the moment.


‘Of cos. Was there another project? I don’t remember giving you more than one.’


And then,

'Big Boss? Is that you?'


A sigh. "Yes, AKK, it's your BIG boss calling you.'


‘DIRECTOR! Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were my fren! I’ve got a lot of Ed names called frens, ‘ I cringed. ‘I mean, fren names called Ed……oh I’m so sorry!!!!! Oh my God, no wonder you were directed from the office phone ’ I wailed, the past 3 minutes running through and snippets of conversation screaming behind AKK's sockets. ‘I knew there was something wrong about this call!’


A chuckle. ‘That’s ok. So can you finish the memo by 5 pm today?’


Another wave of embarrassment threaten to sink her.


‘Sorry sorry. Oh my God…I really didn’t think….I mean …..You sound just like my fren……. ‘ AKK sputters, then paused and finally got a grip on herself.


She cleared her throat.


‘Yessir. You’ll have it on your table by 4pm today.’ The tone was cool, calm and collected, exactly opposite to her gushing, bleeding, humiliated heart.


‘Wow, what a big change! OK, thanks. I hope you enjoyed this toilet break! Bye!’ And the line went as dead as AKK’s professional reputation.


The camera finishes its round of the office atmosphere, then refocuses on one worker as she unglued her handphone from her ears. If this were a silent show, she would have won grammys for her facial depiction under the category of ‘hearing bad news’. Life can be cruelly funny sometimes.


Light dims out.


OUT!

Next up is Keisha’s (PPQ series) crush!

It's all about the letter 'B', voice blog vol. 8

Hi all!!


Long time no write! sorry siah, as you know lah....been busy with loads of things lah, mostly work and Life, so ah...either didn't have the time to write or else busy until never communicate with my frens and office ppl long enough to have something interesting other than work work and wmore work.

But hey! Today's different! I've done a VOICE BLOG cos its so much easier to say what i wanted to write. In order not to give anything away, i'd rather not mention anything about it here, so just pls go to this VOICE BLOG and enjoy yourself.



Caution: It's a bit long, but be patient cos it's always funnier towards the end. :)


That's all, guys!


Out!


AKK

The Sad Ping Pong Queen Vol. 12

EDIT: The link was faulty, thanks to Desparate Addict for pointing it out. Solved liao, the link is actually about this male colleague that I was slightly crushing becuase of his lovely voice (point 4)


Hi all!



I sure bet you guys are surprised that there is another PPQ entry after the whole fiasco. Well, me too! But this time, it ain’t connected to LK liao and is just an episode by itself (I hope), otherwise the whole world should just end right about now.



The night was young when we gathered at the Balcony. The whole office was out to celebrate their performance bonus and also as a belated birthday treat to that cute Scottish guy (close to 50) whom I’d earlier talked about.



The Balcony had a great décor, which is the only thing I like about the place. The drinks were over-priced and horrors of horros, they did not have Frangelico, something I had come to accept as the rule of thumb that all ‘gold standard’ pubs should have, even if the bartender didn’t know he had it, which was what happened in IndoChine, heng for my fren’s sharp eye in locating the bottle hidden behind the Kahlua.



And best, the waitress was a young, pretty and slim affair in tight jeans and a shirt with a bad attitude and bored expression. I hate seeing these waitresses, you know? They have this ‘it’s-because-there’s-no-ang-mohs-around-so-I’m-taking-your-orders’ kinda look. She’s even less friendly than the door bitch, who actually smiled and welcomed a 20-strong bunch. OK, I know the Singaporeans don’t tip, but with the waitress (I’m-cerified-SPG) demeanor, we wun be tipping even if it’s customary. Hell, I’d charge them 5% for bad service. I mean, look at us!! We are peace-loving, law-abiding, even boring scientific personnel who won’t ever give you lip. We may all look fricking poor and unable to pay for that 1-for-1 1/2pint of Heineken, but that’s only because we just came from a biohazard warzone and don’t want to ruin our French cuffs and tarnish our Silver.



As if on cue, I was slated as the spokesperson for the group, since I have a carrying voice and can call up an octave higher than the boombox to get myself heard in any circumstance. So imagine my absolute chagrin having to deal with a sour face and rallying the large group to decide on their drinks quickly.



In the midst where everyone give their orders while the waitress’ face grew more sour at the load she had to carry, I took a quick look to survey my office group. Somehow the males and females found themselves all sitting in perfect symmetry around the round table like a split piechart depicting gender, with me right in the middle of the gals.



Then I heard this high-pitched giggle that was even more grating than my best Mariah Carey impersonation. I turned away from the bored face taking down the orders to note that discord.



It may be by chance, but PPQ is right where the split had ocurred and was seated beside that Scottish ang moh, giggling hysterically at something he said.



My mood soured like the waitress’ expression.



I snapped, ‘Has everyone ordered?’


A chorus of ‘Yes, Ma’am’, ‘Of cos, bring on the booze!’, ‘Yuppers!’ and ‘Aye’ went through the crowd.



All except the one I had my eyes trained on.



She was still giggling about God-Knows-What and was totally oblivious to my question, batting her expressive eyes at Mr Scottish Brogue.



Geez….someone save me from having to deal with her.



I snapped more loudly, ‘PPQ! Have you ordered?’



Already 1 cocktail above par before we even started drinking, her eyes were doing their usual yuan-liu-liu dew-drop-look I’d come to abhor on the unsuspecting Ang-moh, until Keisha elbowed her, rather sharply, I might add, and shoved the menu into her hands.



I was contemplating slapping my palm to my face while PPQ picked up the drinks menu as if she’d never seen before and opened it, all the while exclaiming in her ingratiatingly sweet-16 high pitched falsetto, ‘Oh …My …God! Have you all ordered?! Oh! I’m so sorry! Oh I didn’t Know! Sorry, AKK! Oh No! Whatever shall I drink?! So many Choices?! OH! OH!….’



I gritted my teeth when she went on auto-pilot, her Damsel-in-distress, perplexed voice and actions, eyes shining from some inner pain at the choice of so many drinks, and the bafflement of having to make a decision…’ Oh! Oh! I can’t decide!’




This went on for like 10 seconds…Oh! Which drink shall I choose?! Oh! OH!!....which in the beat of a pub or club, considered to be a million years too long a drag of the waitress’ time and my own patience.



‘Kuai dian lah!’ I snapped again. It was that or reach over and throttle her fat neck.



And to think that earlier when in the MRT, I actually deigned to make small talk with her because of the rule of proximity. I mean, you can hardly ignore her when the MRT after-office hour crush made sure the 2 of you were nose to nose at the same metal bar.



Quick! Something nice to say, my Social Ettiquette decided to take order from my Tih Kong side. A digression here: other people have the angel and the devil on their shoulders to guide their choices, I’ve got my Tih-kong and the Yan Luo Wang.



‘Er…that’s a nice dress you’ve got on.’ I spoke to her, slowly, as if listening to an inner voice. ‘It made you.... look slim.’ My Social Ettiquette sang my praises and gave me A++ to report to Tih-Kong.



‘Oh, thank you! What a nice thing to say! But it is true that I have slimmed down a bit! In fact, I..’ and she went on. After a while, I re-affirmed why I decided not to be her friend. I can’t deal with a self-centered person or rely on one. It is that simple.



Then of cos the inevitable happened, while Keisha begins to join the waitress in rolling her eyes, and PPQ worked herself into a hysterics over 3 running pages of strange drinks, Mr Scottish Brogue cuts in gently and asked in his lilting brogue.



‘How about Heineken? It’s a good beer. They are having a 1-for-1.’



The Crouching Tiger in me growled. It’s not that I’m jealous, seriously, it’s the inability of men to not fall for these types of displays, be they young or old.



I guess we should all have foreseen it, especially for someone as starved of attention as PPQ, but you see, in the company we are all Ikan Billis under division bosses and Mr Scottish Brogue is Keisha and Jane’s BOSS. So at the very least, I take it that a big huge fricking Golden Rule would be that there’s always a limit to who you should or shouldn’t target on professionally.



The next few hours after that made me cringe and shudder, and it all started because of 1 single detail. PPQ, upon hearing his suggestion, turned 180 degree to bestow him her dazzling liquid eyes of gratitiude for relieving her the duty of thinking, then coiled her arms around his left arms and squeezed it against her tits, the menu falling open on the table-top.



OK, so I was being crude. In other more civilized words, she hugged his arm. All the while exclaiming to a crowd who, for some reason or other, looking all over the place except at her, ‘that is a Great Suggestion. Oh! Oh! I’ll share it with you, I can’t drink so much! Oh! Thank you!’



Mission accomplished, the waitress rolled a final eye and went off, knees creaking. The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than 2-3 minutes, but it felt like I had been subjected to a movie marathon starring PPQ.



As time wore on, the drinks arrived and left, and arrived and left…everyone was in a state of fun, because we had brought cards and were playing happily away. If you don’t look too closely through the inebriated haze of my present company, you won’t actually notice that PPQ had suddenly decided to make Mr Scottish Brogue the center of her Universe, eyes tuned onto him, both looking at each others’ poker cards, deciding to pick or stay. If you immerse yourself in front of the booming speakers, you can safely pretend that the occasional hyena laugh did not, in fact, issue constantly from the right side of the circle.



And while Mr Scottish Brogue is slightly bewildered at the high receptivity of his wit, he was nevertheless undergoing something I’d seen in all the other guys who ever had the pleasure to be bestowed by PPQ’s charms. Now would be the time to tell you that Mr Scottish Brogue is currently single and straight at the age of 50.



After a particularly bad bout of giggling, Jane , keisha and I called a time-out and excused ourselves to go to the ladies.



The first few minutes were carried out in silence while we attended to our ablution, then,



‘Did you see that?! I thought I’d go blind!’

‘Wah lau! I can’t believe she’s trying to hook our boss! Yeuks!’

‘He’s falling for it, argghhh! I thought he had more brains!’

‘Our boss! Our boss!’

‘They’re 20 yrs apart!!!’

‘Stupid woman!’

‘Stupid Man!’

‘Actually , he might not be stupid what, he’s ang-moh leh, they very liberal one.’

‘Helloooo!!! 25 yrs apart? Like twenty-five?? TWENTY-FIVE? She could be his daughter leh.’

‘Haiyah, she may be only 10 yrs old mentally but she technically legal liao, you can’t stop her from hugging his arms and whispering in his ear?’


We all paused for a moment.


‘Choujidan lah, Jane, can you please or not? I escaped here to run away from seeing PPQ repeatedly squeezing closer and closer to him leh, now you make me remember the scene again.’



‘Sorry lah, it’s not easy to forget anyway what. You come here also no use.’



‘Argh,’ Keisha was saying carefully, ‘Are you telling me that basically, it is possible that our boss, might just actually think that PPQ is eligible to take back home?’


‘Of cos, why not?’


‘Yah, of cos, all women have holes, even PPQ.’


There was another pause.


Keisha and Jane companionably put their arms around my shoulder while I clapped a hand to my mouth.


‘Pwah, can see somebody like cannot take it hor.’


‘Your hot hot hubby waiting for you at home not enough ah? Remember leh, You said 25 yrs old difference leh.’


‘Haiyah, it’s not about Mr Scottish Brogue lah, it’s about her lah. Firstly, which guy wouldn’t like a free meal of sweet young corn, right? Secondly hor, and I know you 2 lor, you’ll probably want to make sure nobody gets hurt tonight and already I’m feeling the horrible lousy responsibility liao. I mean, why do I bother right? Why do WE bother? If she wants to lose it tonight, I say let her lah. And if your boss wants her tonight, then OK lor, then I’ll know who he is behind that nice voice liao. Like that, my crush also died early death.’


‘Anyway,’ I mumbled again. ‘Anyone who can’t see her for who she is hor, isn’t worth my time.’


‘Haiyah,’ Keisha’s turn. ‘It’s very easy why we should help whenever we can. Because this here is my boss, I don’t want to lose respect for him if he decides that PPQ is easy prey tonight. I’d rather he don’t do this type of thing in the presence of the whole office. If he likes, he should get-together with her again without our knowledge.’




‘Yup,’ replied Jane. ‘We are essentially helping our boss preserve his own image, even if PPQ doesn’t want hers.’



‘Oh.’ I thought about it. ‘OK then, as long as it’s we’re not helping PPQ for PPQ’s sake.’



With that, we left the restroom.

PPQ was steadily going drunk, even with just a pint of Heineken. So for the rest of the night, Keisha piled PPQ with water while I accompanied her to the restroom, holding her arm. She was only half a pint from being wasted, judging by how she’s walking. Once again, I have this funny feeling that her life till now must have been truly blessed. She seems like an utter walking prey, she’s easy on the eye, can’t take booze but like to go pubs, have absolutely no sense of preservation towards men, can’t think, no brains and yet! She is currently having the time of her life while being take care of by worried people like us, who are having less and less fun with every second.



When time came for us to go home, I was thoroughly awake, sober and feeling instinctively that if the whole world were to be a large party right now, I’d be tidying up in the kitchen while PPQ does the congo line in the throng, splashing champagne all over herself. Such is the luck of the knowing.



On the way home, we send a happily muttering PPQ with some frens staying in the same area off in a cab. Mr Scottish Brogue and I are sharing the same cab due to our proximity. On the trip back, we had a little chat.



‘You know, lass, PPQ is such a great person. I never knew she was so much fun.’



‘Really? Oh, but we are all fun people, actually.’ Just that we don’t normally rub against other people so much, I muttered.



‘She blew me a kiss!’ Mr Scottish brogue’s voice was full of wonderment. ‘Do you think she likes me?’



My goodness, how the mighty have fallen. The final smattering of crushy feeling for his lovely voice curdled like cheese in me. All I could think about was: You’re 50! She’s 26! She can be your daughter!!! Why are you even considering the option?!’



‘PPQ is a very friendly person.’ My voice gave nothing away.



‘Of cos, she is….very!’ his tone took on a reflective tinge. I bet he must be thinking of his left arm right now.



I wished the driver to drive faster so I could leave the car before he goes under. We have heard from others that while he holds his drinks very well, he tends to open up very fast under alcohol and laments consistently about his singlehood.




And then, without preamble, ‘I’ve been lonely for 10 years.’ His hush puppy eyes grew sad.




I was prepared for this though, ‘No worries lah, I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. With a voice like that, gals find it hard to resist!’



He chuckled and said, ‘you’re a bomb, AKK, making an old man like me happy.’



Another ruminative 5 minutes passed in the cab while I feverishly wished the wheels to grow wings.



And then, ‘Are you a friend, AKK?’


‘Hmm…I don’t see why not I’m not a friend to you actually.’


‘Because sometimes I think I always mistake people’s friendship for interest, you know? I get foolish as I get older. I mix things up and hope too much.’


‘Well, most times, relationships do come from being friends first.’


I noted a distinct change in the air as I said that. Mr Scottish Brogue regarded me seriously in the darkness of the cab as we sped through the city lamps, flicking light through the windows.


Then he said, in that Scottish brogue that I used to like a lot for, but which has since today ceased to amuse, ‘AKK, do you think a relationship can come from this friendship?’


I looked him directly in the eye. By now, I was sure the cab driver is cocking a ear to our conversation, which was the reason he was weaving slightly and picking up speed to get me home first.



‘You know what?’ I said very gently, to this lonely man, with his twinkling eyes and melodic voice, now turned serious in his plea for companionship. ‘I think that a friendship……..is much much more important than a relationship. Jane and Keisha and me are here for you because you are our friend.’ I emphasized the point.



The taxi cruised to a stop. I’d arrived home. I said goodbye and got off the cab, leaving a decidedly more dejected Scotsman than before and returned home to my husband, whereupon I told him every single thing, even re-enacting PPQ’s voice and hyena act and finally the conversation on the trip back.



A took it all into his stride, laughed when the entertainment was on and patted me on the head for my reply, then we tucked in and bed down for the night.



A is my best friend. There is no other friendship I’d like to turn into a relationship anymore.

Out,

AKK :)

Tired....

Dear all,





Look, I know I've neglecting my blog....



But....but....



I'm tired....so tired.... Been working so hard... We had a change of bosses here....so everyone's jobscope has been re-arranged, streamlined and categorised....





It's not that I don't like my job. It's just that I love playing more. It's not that i dun love the projects I'm spearheading, it's having to deal with group members that I abhor...





I mean...sometimes, you just wished you have 10 pairs of hands, 3 brains and 4 PCs to type away, without having to handle and manage team members....


Oh well, what to do? I took their pay increment and performance bonus and renewed my contract....


Looks like I'll be around there for a while....


see ya all and miss ya....*sniff*


AKK

Waxing Lyrical Over Small things Vol 1

Hi all!

Recently I’ve been in a poetic mood. Not the Robert Burn ‘my love is like a red red rose’ kind, but rather the retro Haiku mood, which is ancient, but like platform wedges, are flying the high wave in comtemporary literature. Since my relationship with alcohol is starting to turn into a soppy love, and however much I always thought poems are too drippy, I have succumbed enough to wax lyrical over it. And since we are at it, why not just continue?

A haiku is a basic 5 syllabus-7 syllabus-5 syllabus poem, which can be adapted to different syllabus length for English, as long as the alternate lines have the same number of syllabus. Hence, 3-5-3, 7-5-7, etc etc are all viable. Usually Haikus are used for everyday occurrences with the last sentence slightly incongruent to the subject and yet able to sum up the earlier 2 sentences appropriately. But that said, it doesn't mean I can do it, and most common haikus don't, but they still read fine.


It’s terrible if you are forced to do it during lit class, but amazingly easy when there’s no pressure. I welcome anyone to pen a short haiku in this entry. I also think Haikus are here to stay, so expect more in the future.



For now, there’s my ode (5-7-5) to the amazing Chocolate Cake shooter, a recipe brought back by JayWalk from the Land of Dragons. No, it did not come from the Land of Dragons, it came from this ang-moh guy in the land of dra.....ok, i was a bit hazy on the details after my 3rd....




Pass the lips and down

Sugar-coated lemon wedge


One shot to Heaven





And here’s another one (7-5-7) when I encountered a super-shitty workday. R(A), you have been warned:



Had a God-awful Monday

4 more days to go


Kan Nee Na Beh Chao Ch** B**







For today’s entry, what less but to expound about myself?


Ode to Ang Ku Kueh:



Peanut Paste Pastry

Eaten past its Sell-by Date


Emergency Room



Anyone for haiku? How about one about your blog nick? Be sure to tell me!

Out!


AKK :)

Tears over Scrambled Eggs....

Dear all,

i know lot of people here would like to know lots more details about PPQ and are wondering if the series are going to go on. I promise you, if there’s anything, I’ll be the first to update. Just so that you know, everything’s in real-time, yes? So that means that when nothing happens, nothing gets blogged. And sad to say, for the readers, PPQ has decided that I’m not fit for personal conversations anymore. On my part, my Bacardi days have become less and less, which is good for the pocket and the liver. I’m not sad she doesn’t confide in me. If I was, it’ll only be because I couldn’t write more about her in my blog. What kind of person would I be, yea?



Yesterday, I went out on date with a bunch of people I had not seen in a while. I was enjoying myself immensely and increasingly with every alcohol, so when my handphone beeped today morning, I was under the covers still and trying to swat it.



It was a female friend and since her voice sounded a bit quavery, I gave a groan and forced myself to wake up. When I called her back 10 minutes later, she sounded normal again.



Why, gal? What’s wrong? I asked her.



It’s nothing, she replied, I think I just called on the whim. We’ve not met a while, how are you?


So far so good, but come on, I know something’s up. Care to spill?



There was a sigh from the other end.


Ok, but when I’m finished, don’t hold it against anyone.


Woah, sounds bad. Ok I promise.


You know yesterday you were calling me to ask me where I was? Actually I was right in the heart of Clarke Quay, in XYZ pub.


Really? Then why didn’t you tell me? I was at ABC, I could have met you up!


Aiyah, I was with frens mah. Listen to me first, can?


Okok, sorli sorli, do go on.


You know how it is rite? My hubby nowadays very busy, doesn’t have much time for me. So I’ve been going out a bit more often and meeting up with frens. Then yesterday nite, I was feeling quite buzzed. My frens called other frens who called others so it turned out to be a really big crowd all sitting together.


Yah, and then?


So of cos, everyone got passed around from known to unknown, trying to make frens etc etc.


Uh-huh, I replied, thinking about my own gathering yesterday. Did something happen?


Nah….only that I got a few people trying to hook me. I was wearing a short skirt.


Hehehhe….that’s hardly surprising. I imagine her long legs, usually encased in loose jeans, clad in a short skirt. Any number of guys would go panting after her. But like me, she married pretty early.


So what? That's all you want to say? You called me early just to tell me you scored a few guys' business cards?


No, Akk, will you just listen?


OK OK….sorli sorli….go on pls.



Akk, I haven't felt this good in a long while. Haven't been out like this, doing the 'pub rounds' since I left PR. It's like all these are new to me and I'm this green gal happily sucking up the attention…..I felt so flattered…


And?


And….and this morning, I woke up bright and cheerful and happy. So this was how I felt when I made breakfast for hubby.


And?


So when he was watching the news and reading his papers in the living room, I just asked him from the kitchen, would you like toast or cereal, he said toast. I asked would he like eggs, he said yes and then I asked him if he's them scrambled and soft-boiled, he said.....



What did he say?



The hitch in her voice came back again.


He said, any damn eggs will do, why you want to shoot me so many questions in the morning? Why can't you shut up?


Oh...


Akk, her voice sounded dangerously hoarse now. My heart just suddenly lurched and it hurt. Just standing in the kitchen, with a saucepan in one hand, eggs in the other, I just started tearing up. All I could think about was that I'm the greatest wife in the world, that I don't care that guys still try to screw me just because I’m a pair of legs but I don't let them, that I think about him all the time and whether his job is working him too hard and that I made myself wake earlier every single day, hangover or not, and worry about his breakfast and whether he prefers his eggs scrambled, hard-boiled or soft!



My friend fell silent after this outburst. I could tell she's crying.


Where is he now? I asked.


Eating breakfast.


And you?


I'm now in the bathroom. She sniffed. I don't care how many business cards I get from cute strangers, I just want him to see me again. He didn’t even blink at my skirt.


I sighed and rubbed my temples. Don't think too much, dearie. Everything's ok, I shushed her with nonsensical words while she snuffled quietly on top of the toilet seat, her husband sittng just a room away, eating his blessed scrambled eggs and toast obliviously.


Why don't you talk to him?


Nah...I can't keep him from his work. He's in a difficult phase now.


We chatted a while till she calmed down long enough to put down the phone and go back to sleep for her hangover.


Hang in there, ok? My parting words for her before she hung up.


Yes, Ma'am. Now I'll go hide my puffy eyes from him, just in case he noticed.


It may not such a bad idea, him noticing.


No, I want him to see me the way those pub guys saw me yesterday.


OK, no yellow-faced fishwife, I agree.


Never! The chirp is back in her voice. Ok, gotta go, thanks for listening.


Anytime for you, dearie. Anytime.



I put down the phone. This friend is fairly special because we are very similar, our circumstances, our age and our personality. Especially our determination to find happiness in everything or anything. Lemonade from lemons and all that crap.


But sometimes, I wonder if it's a good thing. Just yesterday, steps from where my poor fren was, I was also enjoying myself with my own bunch.


‘Wah lau! Take pic with me leh, I want those 2 things inside!’ Those 2 things referring to the 2 mammaries that were, for once, in their life, released from the confines of a wire prison in public. My newly minted Victoria’s secret low-cut top came with insets to take away the necessity of wearing a bra. I can see that my accompanying friend (female) loved them a lot and tried to zoom in to the valley after the pic was taken.


A, on the other hand, didn’t say anything apart from ‘It’s quite nice, dear.’ and ‘Goes with the shoes’, then finally, ‘Time to go or we’ll be late for work.’


Lemons!


But at least he doesn’t scream at me over eggs.


Leomonade!

Sigh.........


OUT!


AKK