Lessons in the gym

I got a job at a fitness centre where I worked for about a week- I quit because I got a better job offer, but one week doing sales and interacting with my colleagues was a very interesting experience and I learned more about myself and the society during this one week than I have ever learned in any other week of my life. It was, all in all, a weird, if not uncomfortable experience for me, but it was a useful one nonetheless. During my entire week there, there wasn't a day that went by without someone commenting on the fact that I prefer to go sans make-up, my clothes, my hair, my body and my behavior. First impressions do count, and being in a profession where any sort of impression is important, the GM has given me a lot of advice on how look more desirable and appealing to the average male population to help boost my sales, although admittedly, a lot of this advice went unheeded due to laziness and also partly because I am very stubborn person in general.
If I am honest with myself, I would probably admit that showing more skin and taking life less seriously would make things easier for me at work, but instead, me being me, I refuse to believe that, telling myself that I have to look 'professional and proper,' resulting in me looking out of place at the office, turning me into some sort of a nun in a brothel( no insult intended to my colleagues). When I complained to someone, that person told me: "Why go against the flow and trouble yourself? The right thing to do is to go with the flow." I guess he is right, subject of course to a caveat: I will go with the flow only if it is not against my conscience. In this case, I don't think it is a 'choose ONE of the following options' situation, so I guess it is time that I took 'personal grooming,' whatever that means, more seriously, now that I have stepping into the working world. No more Einstein hair, geeky glasses, torn bags and shoes and boy clothes. Not that I want to dress like a slut- mind you, that requires a lot of effort that I am not willing to make (again, seriously, no insult intended) But lesson leaned: I will, from now on, take my colleagues advice and put in reasonable effort into looking good.
I always thought that MOST people were intolerable, troublesome beings that I should avoid, so I refuse to deal or talk unnecessarily to people I don't know. I don't do small talk, ask personal questions if I can help it or share my thoughts or feelings with random people. Having spoken to so many strangers for the past week, however, I have found that people are actually very interesting, even if I can only hear their voices over the phone. I had spoken to bored tai-tais, people working at the airport, a silat master/salesman, an art gallery owner, a badminton coach, a gym owner and businessmen over the phone; these are the people whom I had actually had a proper conversation with after the realization that asking personal questions and small talk is important in making a sales proposal. To my surprise, I actually enjoyed it! I guess before this I was the intolerable, troublesome being that other people avoided!
So yes, a very fruitful week indeed!

Honesty

Tell me the truth. Truthfully. Don't beat around the bush. Don't jab, hint or wink. I don't and will not understand- in fact I'll misunderstand. I wish the world was a place where you can just go up to a person and say "I hate you" even if I am at the receiving end, or "I love you" even if I am the one who has to say it. Some may say that the world would be even uglier and angrier if the truth is told all the time, but I beg to differ: the truth will not cause wars, arguments and fights if people could accept the truth with grace and an open heart.
So if you, like me, have to refer to books on the body language and psychology to decipher what the people around you is ACTUALLY trying to say, then I know you also have a secret wish: to be able to read minds, since those books are not very useful. I suspect that they are not accurate or helpful in the first place, since I am getting very strange 'readings' from the people I observe, but then again I could be coming to the wrong conclusions. Those books also usually comes with several caveats: body language can be faked, is subject to age, gender, ethnicity and culture, may not be what it seems and no single body language is a reliable indicator.
I did try to act based on what I assumed was how other people actually felt, with disasterous results. Why? The girl at my workplace could either be in agreement with me and likes me very much or she could just be very weird, and that guy could be very much in love with me, or he could be interested in ALL the other girls in the same room (the author did say that men are 'interested perpectually' in most women). Alternatively, they could be bored, and knowing that I was trying to read their body language, was trying to mess with me for amusement. So what have I learnt from all those books? Never trust people in a profession that gives you advice and then subject it to about a dozen conditions (lawyers included).
I have been called 'brutally honest'- I am not sure what that means, but I do know that some people tend to avoid me because of that. People who can't avoid me (association not by choice, but by fate or blood relationship) tend to get upset with me a lot. I can't speak for anyone else, but I do like frank, genuine and honest people in general, so I adhere to the 'all or nothing' rule: I either tell the truth, or I say nothing at all. However, while it is rather hard for me to see the problem with saying what is on my mind, nowadays I do realise that white lies are neccessary evils, but then telling lies, for me, does have its problem. I get too creative:
X: (Sighs) I don't think I'll ever find that someone special.
Me: Why? [Genuine question]
X: Look at me. I don't think girls would want to go out with someone like me.
Me: But why? You are a nice guy. [truth]
X: But there are tonnes of nice guys around.
Me: Well, you are smart and you (insert talent here) [truth]
X: So? I am not rich or good looking enough.
Me: I don't think that is important at all. [Genuine opinion]
X: Yes it is.
Me: No, it is not. You just need the courage to ask the girl out.[sincere advice]
X: Huh?
Me: Yeah. You need to just ask. I am sure she ll appreciate the fact that you were brave enough to even ask and oblige.[Genuine opinion]
X: Yeah right.
Me: Right!
X:Thats you. Not everyone is the same.
Me: Okay, well at least you would have tried. Don't put yourself down- you are actually quite good looking and you do have a good future. [white lie]
X: Really?
Me: Really. In fact, I see girls checking you out all the time. You are quite a good catch. [blatant lie]
X: Wow. I never knew that. Why don't I have a girlfriend?
Me: Urm.... well you see..... maybe you just have to wait.
X: I don't believe you. (looks at me suspiciously) I guess I am destined to be alone forever.
Me: Urm....don't worry. If you are worried, what about other guys who are lesser mortals compared to you? [blatant, blatant lie]
X: Really?
Me: Yeah really. Compared to other guys you are superior. You have superpowers and you can fly. Which girl wouldn't fall for you? [ABSURD, OUTRIGHT AND RIDICULOUS lie]

Kylie, me and really angry people

I named my car after Kylie Minogue- small and cute yet sexy, and most definitely a survivor. I have been driving to KL since my college is in Brickfields, and to be honest, I am not exactly a good driver and neither do I take as much care of Kylie as I should. After ignoring Kylie's very noisy gearbox for months, I finally bought her to the mechanic, only to find out that there wasn't anything wrong with the gearbox itself- it was the mat blocking the clutch. Every time I changed the gear I couldn't step on the clutch properly, so I have to force the gear into its position. I felt like an idiot- I had just confirmed the believe that female drivers are bad drivers! But it was an honest mistake that anyone could have made, right?
I only started driving on a regular basis in Kl since I started my course in Brickfields. When I first started, my driving was terrible! I was impatient, I cut into other people's lanes when I should have waited, I NEVER gave way and I couldn't side-park. Then one day, when my dad came to KL, he said "You don't give way to other people and you expect other people to give you way?" Oooops. Sounds like I have been a jerk. Since then, I try to be more patient, but it is difficult. I never had the habit of using the 'f' word, and neither have I shown anyone the middle finger (yet), but somehow, when I am on the road, I have to practice some self-restraint to stop myself.
But then again, everyone else is angry, and I mean ANGRY- honking, staring and shouting whenever someone else cuts into their lane, or when someone else refuse to let them cut into their lane, or when someone else parks in 'their' parking lot. The stress mounting while being stuck in a traffic jam creates even more anger, and being late makes it worse. Since Kylie had her window smashed and was scratched, however, I decided that all that anger wasn't worth it- I am going to be driving for a very long time, and it really takes up A LOT of energy to be angry for that long. I wonder how other people do it. From now on, I am like, its all zen yeo, and its all cool. Peace, man, peace. (try imagining a surfer dude saying that and you'll get what I mean)
That approach doesn't exactly improve my driving skills, but at least my blood pressure is normal when I am driving. In the meantime, Kylie will still have to put up with me. In fact, I am really surprised that I haven't gotten involved in any major accidents. Now do you know why I call her a survivor?

Those good old coffee days

I woke up at 3 am this morning in panic, thinking about how much more I needed to study, not realizing that the exams are over. After coming out from the bathroom, however, I saw that the kitchen is somewhat neater and cleaner and the floor had been vacuumed- and I immediately remembered that I did all that yesterday BECAUSE the exams where over. Yes, I know, everyone must be asking- 'You cleaned the house after the exams? Shouldn't you be out partying?' The truth is I wanted to be as normal as I can possibly get. The past two months has been about worrying, studying, stressing, remembering, sleep deprivation and huge quantities of caffeine. My dream of running a marathon seems further now that I haven't been to the gym in nearly a month. The apartment is dirty and I have got books all over my desk. I didn't catch the controversial ad on 8 TV because I haven't been watching TV. I haven't read anything non-CLP except for the occasional newspaper now and then. The essay I wanted to hand in for a competition never came into existence. Kylie had to wait to have her gearbox repaired, and I haven't seen Bobo in such a long time. My skin now looks like it belongs to a reptile.
I don't think I can ever look at any CLP-related book, or drive all the way to Brickfields to have a 14 hour study marathon EVER again. I don't ever want to drive around to look for parking and then hear the endless sighs in the library. I don't want to wake up at 3am on the morning of the exams to look at the same notes over again. I don't want to ever replace coffee for a meal.
Now that the exams are over, I have a reason to SMILE. Not that I am sure that I will pass the exam, mind you, but it's funny how things seem different after traumatic events.(yes, exams are traumatic, to me at least) I got up in the morning, cleaned the house, went out for lunch, bought groceries, brought Kylie to the mechanic (more on that later) went out for a jog, went for dinner and then went shopping. Yes, all very normal, 'domesticated' activities, but yes, I was so HAPPY. Okay, maybe not THAT happy. You see, because I was so used to drinking so much coffee for the past two months, when I didn't have any yesterday (okay, maybe just one cup), I was really sleepy by 7pm, hence I had a typical day of a 70 year old. Now that I have done normal, I think today is the time for a little crazy.
So there you go. Arte trivialle is back! I am really sorry that today's post is really about me ranting about how terrible the exams have been, but to all random people reading this, I will try to write as often as I can, till you all get sick of me!

Malaysian standards please!

I am worried about Malaysians. Seriously. We eat too much and apparently we waste a lot of food, yet yesterday, the police found the body an Indonesian maid who was allegedly starved to death by her employers. It is certainly a difficult life for migrant workers in Malaysia- overworked and poor, they are also mentally, physically and socially tortured.
As I sit here in front of my (albeit old) laptop with a mug of hot drink beside me, I wonder how different life would have been if I was born in different circumstances. Would I be the one sweeping the corridors of my apartment building? Would I have worked for the family next door as a live-in maid? I really don't know. I complain about my life a lot, but then when I think about it, I have a lot. I have Kylie waiting in the car park for me whenever I need to drive somewhere. I have Bobo sitting on my desk whenever I feel the urge to blog or spend some 'quality' time on Facebook. I have my parents to turn to whenever I need money, and my cousins and friends when I need help for whatever reason. I lead a relatively comfortable life as compared to that Indonesian maid next door, or that cleaner in my apartment building.
Employers who can afford to hire foreign employees, I presume, lead a comfortable life. Why, then, would such a person harm a fellow human being? I don't know about the rest of you, but those migrant workers, in my opinion, have contributed in many ways to this country. Buildings don't magically built themselves, do they? Houses do not clean themselves, and fresh produce do not miraculously appear in the supermarkets without anyone planting, watering and transporting them there.
Some people say that life in the worker's own country is much more difficult, and that here in Malaysia, those workers lead a more comfortable life, hence there is no need treat them as well as we treat our fellow Malaysians. I am not asking for the government to provide free healthcare to all of them, or that we should have a minimum wage requirement for foreign workers in this country. All I am asking for, really, is that we treat them with the respect and dignity that they deserve- that any human being deserve, for that matter. Show them that Malaysians are caring and hospitable people, just like how the Ministry of Tourism portray us in those 'Malaysia, truly Asia' advertisements. The Malaysians I know would not ill-treat me if I work for them; they are polite people who will show me respect, and I, in turn, would do the same. I hope this Malaysian standard is applied to all in our country.
I am sure that some would protest and call me stupid for saying something like this. Some will tell me that they have no choice- the employee is too stupid to understand instructions, too lazy or cause them too much trouble. Or that they increase the crime rate in this country. If you ask me, it is better for me to wind-up my business or quit my job than to ill-treat another human being. Alternatively, you could always pay (much) more and hire a person better equipped to do the job (as they always say, you pay peanuts, you get monkeys). Easy for me to say since I am not in the situation, I know; but then again I am used to being called an idiot. Feel free to do so if you think I am one.

deep fried orange mars bars

Recently me and my partner-in-crime discovered the joys of eating....ahem..... deep fried orange mars bars. Willingly, almost every week, we indulge in those unhealthy, chocolaty things that are not only bad news for your throat, but bad for your health in general; since it is a terrible indulgence frowned upon by the people around us, we do it only away from prying (familiar and known) eyes. I am not at all addicted, but I do enjoy a few bars every week, and it is an effective (???!!!) way to de-stress. However, since the impending doom of the coming exams is looming upon us, we gorged on those sinful things in public at the risk of being seen by people known to us. Unfortunately, that actually happened one day, and I was embarrassed despite my usual devil-may-care and what-the-hell attitude. Guess I do care about what people think, which is news, to me at least. Mind you, that is just deep fried orange mars bars, not some sex tape that might kill off my political career.
So what is the moral of the story? If you think that certain behaviors are unacceptable and shameful, never do it even if no one else is looking or will find out later. If you are too ashamed to have your conduct being made known public, then don't do it at all. So I won't. Also, my bad habit will cost me my health, as I found out after my usual treadmill session the other day- I felt so tired I went straight to bed after my shower. The next morning, I threw my secret stash of mars bars away, vowing to break all ties with the delicious but dangerous candy bar but I will need to find a new way to de-stress. They say that smiling can help lower your stress levels and can trick your body into changing your mood for the better. So if you see me smiling for no good reason, I am not insane, just trying to de-stress- and yes, do try to smile back!

from antidiscrimination to discrimination

One day, at McDonald's, my cousin said something that made me think. A few years ago, I tutored a few students to supplement the allowance given by my parents; having been through that, I understand how teachers can inadvertently favour the weaker students over the brighter ones. You set your heart out to protect the weaker ones, trying to understand them and at the same time sympathizing, because you realise that sometimes hard work and diligence is not enough to make the cut. You go out of your way to help them- giving them more attention in class, finding teaching materials that are more suitable for them- sometimes at the expense of the rest of your students. It is like that in life as well. Parents who tend to protect the weaker child might neglect children that are more capable of being successful in life. I have seen this situation in many families. Governments, in an effort to create a more equal society, may introduce quotas and reservations in favour of minority groups or groups that are deemed to be disadvantaged.

Anyway, back to the story at McDonald's. As I was pouring coffee from the refill stand, I realised that the pot was rather empty, so I only filled half of my cup as there was a Malay man standing behind me waiting to refill his cup of coffee as well. Back at the table, I explained to my cousin when he asked me why my cup was only half full. He then said: 'You gave up coffee to a guy who is not even a lengzai?'(yes, my cousin is very shallow) and I replied that if that guy was good looking, I WOULD NOT have given up my coffee for him. The next day when my friend pointed out to me that a particular (good looking) guy was sitting somewhere near us in class, I actually told her that if I did not know a person, as time passes by, I'll find him/her uglier. In an effort to not judge a person by his looks, I have actually become more partial to less than perfect people, and less partial to perfect people. Since the better looking ones, as people say, are treated better, why should I be nice to them? I should be nicer to people that are not treated as well, shouldn't I? This could also explain the 'racial composition' of my friends. Perhaps, subconsciously, because I do not want to be labelled as a racist, I am friendlier to people that are not Chinese? In my efforts to treat everyone the same, I ended up treating people differently.

This reminds me of reverse or positive discrimination. India and the United States have seen protests against 'affirmative action' programmes put in place to improve the minority group's academic, political and economic development. I don't see the need to talk about special privileges given to certain groups of people in this country, given that it is such a hotly debated topic. What I am trying to say is that there are dangers in trying to create equality by creating inequality. Due to my 'reverse discrimination' good looking people now think that I am rude and avoid me, while the Chinese might think I am crazy and hate me.

But I have to defend myself- it is difficult to be fair when you are trying hard to be fair. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get the desired results. Take feminists and women's group, for example. To champion gender equality, they go all out to defend rights of women, and may sometimes appear overzealous and unfair to men, but I still applaud their efforts. If teachers favoured only bright students who usually come from privileged backgrounds, then what about the weaker students? If nothing is done, the rich will get richer, the poor will get poorer.

So what is the moral of the story? There is always two sides to the coin. I know some people might be offended by this post, but the good thing is nobody actually reads my blog, so hopefully no one will report me to the police for blasphemy or sowing racial discord, because that is NOT my intention at all. ( I might 'emo' once in a while because I have no readers, but this is one of the occasions that I actually am glad I have no readers) So anyway, to all the good looking and/or Chinese strangers out there, I would like to hereby sincerely apologize!

I am right, I am right, I am right even when I am wrong!

The news of unrest in Libya had me curious about Muammar Gaddafi, the eccentric and controversial Libyan leader who is now in the spotlight not only because of his refusal to step down but also because of the violence he ordered on his own people. I read in The Star recently that Gaddafi is apparently utterly convinced that Shakespeare is an Arab immigrant. He also once said that 'there is no state with a democracy except Libya on the whole planet,' which brings me to the title for today: I am right, I am right, I am right even when I am wrong.

While it is not human nature to admit one's own mistakes, I have had very bizarre, and not to mention confusing, conversations with quite a few persons whom I consider intelligent and educated. I know someone who is so sure that if we did not consume plant enzymes, we will all fall sick and drop dead. When told that it is a well known scientific fact that the human body can produce its own enzymes, the person simply responded by saying that 'scientists don't know everything.' I wholeheartedly agree to this statement, but obviously this is an inappropriate answer to the question. I have almost got into an argument about where I live, believe it or not, because the other person was so convinced that I stayed somewhere else. Sometimes, people refuse to believe the cold, hard facts that I shove at them in the face to prove a point, simply saying(something along these lines): 'I don't know how credible your sources are, even though they are credible. I believe what I said was correct, even though your arguments are more compelling and you have proof, and I don't. I can't be wrong'

I also observed that people tend to stereotype and pigeonhole people, especially the ones they don't know well, into 'categories,' and once there, it is difficult to get yourself out. The labels that I got in school, college and even at home are labels which I have to live with, even if I had changed over the years. I think what people don't realise is that human beings behave differently in different situations; the X you see in school might not be the same person you see at work or at home, or the same X you may see 10 years or even 5 years later. When the person fail to behave according to the 'category' they supposedly belong in, they are seen with distain and disbelieve.

The worst part of all these observations, is the fact that I am equally guilty of the same stubbornness. I judge people and then categorise them, so you had better be careful if I think that you are a sick S.O.B who has no place on earth. I am also guilty of the 'I am DEFINITELY right' syndrome. So now I am trying to keep my bigotry in check by at least attempting to keep my mouth shut when I think I should. It is hard, but practice makes perfect right?

Arte trivialle has a meaning!

Arte trivialle actually has a meaning! I googled it and here is what I found:

'The word trivial entered Middle English with senses quite different from its most common contemporary ones. We find in a work from 1432-50 mention of the "arte trivialle," an allusion to the three liberal arts that made up the trivium, the lower division of the seven liberal arts taught in medieval universitiesgrammar, rhetoric, and logic. The history of trivial goes back to the Latin word trivium, formed from the prefix tri-, "three," and via, "road." Trivium thus meant "the meeting place of three roads, especially as a place of public resort." The publicness of such a place also gave the word a pejorative sense that we express in the phrase the gutter, as in "His manners were formed in the gutter." The Latin adjective trivilis, derived from trivium, thus meant "appropriate to the street corner, commonplace, vulgar." Trivial is first recorded in English with a sense identical to that of trivilis in 1589. Shortly after that trivial is recorded in the sense most familiar to us, "of little importance or significance," making it a word now used of things less weighty than grammar, rhetoric, and logic.' (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/trivially)

Ironic, isn't it?

Things to do in a boring, sleep-inducing class

Here is a list of things to do in a boring, sleep-inducing class:
1) Count the number of times the lecturer tries to tell a joke that fell flat, or if the lecturer is flat himself, count the number of times that you are grateful that the lecturer actually tries to tell a joke.
2) Paint the Mona Lisa on your friend's arm with markers, highlighters and pens. If they can do it with toast, I bet stationery works even better. You can both admire it during the break later.
3) If it gets really, REALLY boring and if you feel really, REALLY sleepy, give the person in front of you a very hard kick. Make sure he is the biggest guy in class. When that person turns to look at you, just smile. Wait for a bit and see what happens. With any luck you may find yourself with a black eye. Or worst. Adrenaline works better than any amount of caffeine.
4) Here is a trick I learnt from a guy in my class, given here with some minor adjustments to maximize the entertainment value. If you don't know the person behind you, turn and stare at him/her. Turn and stare repeatedly with a creepy smile. Whisper the word "watermelon" into your friend's ears repeatedly. Then turn and stare again. Its always fun to irritate or mess with someone else's head.
5) Write a song about your boredom. Then write another song about your boredom . Then write another, and another song about the boredom you face in class. Make sure all the song sounds almost the same, ala Taylor Swift. If lady luck is on your side, someday you might have a successful recording career just like her.
5) When all else fail, leave or just let yourself fall asleep. You'll be surprised at how liberating it can be.

Malaysians just couldn't care less, or do they not have the balls?

I am not being obscene; I meant it in a metaphorical, 'unliteral' sense. Our Prime Minister and Dr M recently commented that Malaysia is very different from Egypt, and that protests not unlike the ones seen in Egypt will not happen here. The PM even went as far as to warn against any attempt to usurp power by using demonstrations.
I don't necessarily agree with our PM or Dr M all the time, but I have to agree with them on this one. Malaysians are generally too preoccupied with their lives to gather in the streets to protest. Sure, there will be a number of Malaysians who are willing to brave the hot sun and sacrifice their time to protest. But for the rest of us it is a different story altogether: 'Demonstration in KL on Sunday? Where? OK, I will avoid using that road. But alamak, now cannot go Midvalley already lah. Never mind, I ll just go to One U.' Malaysians generally see protests as an inconvenience. Parents warn their children not to join for fear of the police. Some think that demonstrations have no effect: 'demonstrate for what? no use one'
Now, before you accuse me of calling Malaysians cowards, let me tell you that I am one of those people who avoid places where demonstrations are held. I just think that Malaysians are very practical people who care more about the bread-and-butter issues more than rights. There is nothing wrong with that; people need to fill stomachs first, don't they?
In the one year that I was in the UK, rubbish collectors, staff at the Royal Mail, Railway employees, university lecturers and professors and staff of the British Airways went on strike, or almost went on strike. Students went on a violent protest against the hike in tuition fees. Protests and strikes happen in Malaysia, but on a (much much) smaller scale. Do Malaysians just couldn't care less? Do Malaysians not have the balls? I think not. When pushed to the edge, Malaysians will take the protests to the street. No doubt we are (sometimes) 'all talk no action', but I think when the situation becomes unbearable, or when those with power openly and atrociously misuse it, Malaysian will take action. The situation currently just does not warrant the turmoil and chaos involved, but all politicians should take note.

Vanity and good looking people

I recently visited the hair salon to have my hair permed. As a result of the perm, I experienced a (chemical) burn on my scalp, so I had a scalp treatment done, which by the way, did nothing to relieve my pain, but I thought that it would go away after a few days, so I bared with it. However, the worst part of it all was, after washing my hair the day after, my hair did not turn out the way I expected it to. So the next day I visited the salon with my friend to lodge a complaint to the hairstylist. Hey, I can bear the pain and all, but if you make me look ugly, you pay, you understand?
Anyway, let me get to the point, which is not at all to inform everyone that I had my hair permed, or that I am an air headed blonde.(used in the metaphorical sense, of course; I have nothing against blondes) In any case, I am definitely not one, contrary to what the current situation might imply. The point is that when we reached the hair salon, the moment my friend who was with me saw the hairstylist, she turned to me and said "Jue Ann, tell him your problem and see what he says. Be nice." Me, being the rational, logical creation of god that I am, in any other situation, would of course agree with this statement. But this is not any other situation. This is a situation where the perming lotion caused a chemical burn on my scalp, and prior to getting to the salon, it was HER suggestion to complain, and she also said that I should be adamant about about getting some sort of compensation. Before we got out of the car, I was under the impression that she was going to back me up. So I agreed, but dont get me wrong; I am not a difficult person in general, but I believe that consumers need to exercise their rights in order to ensure that businesses provide the best products or services that are also value for money. Or maybe I was just pissed.
Now I am supposed to BE NICE? So what made her change her mind? The fact that the hairstylist was HOT (and according to her, it was also because he was extremely polite. YEAH RIGHT). Never mind that he might be gay and never mind that he was also TERRIBLE at his job. Apparently good looking people are more superior than your average, didnt-win-the-genetic-lottery lesser mortals, and they can get away with anything. Even reducing your friend's scalp into something that now looks like dried mince meat.
Ok, so he was polite, and so he did rush out to return my phone when I accidentally left it in his salon. But so? I am looking for someone who does the job(i.e. a good hairstylist), not someone who looks like Zero Ma or some other Taiwanese hearthrob who holds the door for me. People need to get past the pretty, shiny exterior and look at the person's talents and abilities. If not, you might as well get your pet peacock to do your accounts or appoint a monkey to represent you in court.(Although to be honest, I sometimes doubt if an accountant or lawyer could do a better job, so you might be better off with a peacock and a monkey after all.)
I am sure everyone knows style does not necessarily equal substance. Yet people continue to be nicer to those who are visually more aesthetically pleasing. Now do you wonder why I put myself through so much pain to get nicer looking hair?

I am Malaysian and I speak 3 languages.

At home, I speak English, but my mother, in an attempt to make me learn Mandarin, tries to communicate in the language with me and my brother. Her brothers and sisters (my Aunts and Uncles) and their children consider Mandarin to be their first language. She and my dad are from Hokkien families, so I understand the dialect as well. My dad used to work in the customs so I had spent a substantial part of my childhood in the customs quarters, where most of my neighbors where Malay. I also went to a kebangsaan school, where the Malay language is the medium.
So I speak 3 languages. Well, two and a half to be exact, and one dialect. Yet, despite this, I still cant communicate properly with the hawker on Petaling Street, or the hairstylist in Damansara. Mandarin Chinese is an option as they can understand me but they reply in Cantonese, something foreign to me; I find myself being (somewhat) a foreigner in Malaysia. I feel cheated; after all, I am Malaysian and I am Chinese. Should'nt everyone speak the same language?
In Malaysia you are expected to be fluent in your mother tongue. Some people might resent you for conversing in another language. Me and my friend, who is Indian, learnt this the hard way one day as we were travelling on the bus. While we were talking excitedly and rather loudly, an Indian man came up to us to tell us off, not for talking loudly, but because my friend choose to speak English rather than Tamil. At that time, I was not sure of what was going on; my friend immediately fell silent for a while, but later continued the conversation with me, ignoring him. I am glad she did. We were 17 at that time, and still remain friends to this day. I can bet that she has already forgotten about the incident but I, however, have not. Difficult as it may be, I try not to judge a person based on the language of his or her choice.
So here in Malaysia the language that you speak defines you. I dont think that should be the case. Language is a tool. If you need it, you acquire it. After I recollect the incident on the bus, I no longer feel annoyed by the fact that the Chinese in KL dont speak Mandarin. If I want to avoid the miscommunication that happens so often to me nowadays, I will just have to learn the language, simple as that. While I am at it, I should celebrate the fact that people in Malaysia come from different backgrounds and speak various languages. I just hope that that Indian man on the bus now feels the same way.

Looking back!

I revived my blog after a year of absence because I realized that I needed an avenue to air my opinion and because I still loved to write, but most of all, it is because I wanted to be heard as well. Looking back at the previous posts, I cringe at how immature and self centred my blog was, hence I deleted them all. Out with the old, in comes the new, I guess. It is surprising how much a year can change a person. I only hope that is it for the better.