Thursday, September 28, 2006
A Love Letter
I finally arrived home at 1:30 a.m. after a nice supper with mum and dad. The journey was made hellish by the fact that we had to sit in the taxi area for 2.5 hours because some smart person checked his/her luggage into the hull but failed to show up for the actual boarding. Security checks were inevitable, prompting the airplane to lack the adequate fuel it needed to fly the 13 hour journey to Singapore. Which only meant we were all punished to sit in the plane even longer while they refueled. The stewards and stewardesses were excellent though and the journey was fine as soon as we took off. On the opposite aisle sat this elderly couple. We exchanged smiles occasionally while on the 13 hour plane journey but we broke into laughter when we saw each other again at the Gate F52, to board the connection flight to KL. We soon warmed up into a lovely conversation. They were gentle and warm, extremely maternal/paternal, which was really nice while one is travelling alone. I found out that they were Burmese and so I related the story of how I have relatives living in Yangon. The man then said that I looked Burmese and I smiled. It is a compliment. Burmese and Thais have about the prettiest girls in the world. Vietnam too, from what all the travelling tales I had heard. While waiting for the skytrain to arrive, a man asked me for directions. We chatted when the train arrived and I told him that he could follow me as I was going towards the baggage area. By luck or chance, we were actually on the same flight! "So where are you from?" I asked. From his accent, I knew he was not British. "Italy," he said. "Oh? My ex-boyfriend recently started work in Milan." "Milan is a beautiful city." "That, I knew," I said, as I turned towards him and smiled. "My ex-boyfriend made sure I knew it." He was chuffed. I love conversations. I enjoy great conversations with the most unusual people. Like the elderly couple from Yangon, who are now professors in IMU. Like this new man, who asked me for directions. Needlessly to say, he flashed his business card when we walked through the immigration. Perhaps he was pleased that I really waited for him, when I said I did. "So (are) you going out any time in the next four days?" he asked. In my mind, thoughts of drinking with YC and new Italian blonde haired Francesco (that's the second Francesco from Italy that I know) flashed through my mind, like the neon lights and pyro. It is hard for a leopard to change her spots. Rolled in my bed and as I had expected, I fell asleep right after the Muslim first call to prayer. It was my bodyclock working right on time. At least something worked like the clock! This morning I got up to 8 emails from Alex. Seven of them were facts about Malaysia. Alex and I were discussing about power generation in Malaysia before leaving. But seriously who cares about the second, third, fourth or fifth email? I only cared for the first, which was a private love letter. First email on the first day back home in Malaysia. Hello there. Was strange driving back. Charged with emotion, made listening to ipod songs more interesting, as if hearing them for the first time. Ate the other half of the chocolate tart, now feeling bloated. Got 8 mini scotch eggs from Tesco for 18p on my way back... Quiet when I woke up this morning. I remember it took me a while to get used to the noise when you first got here, now I have to get used to the quiet. Love, Alex |
Monday, September 25, 2006
We Is Watching You
*** Small Talk ANNN turned one yesterday and I celebrated it with Alex in London. Spent 4 hours exploring the HMS Belfast (a WW2 cruiser) and then walking to China Town for delightful yummies. I'm going to spend today packing my stuff and preparing to return back to Malaysia. My flight's tomorrow night, touching KLIA at 10:30 p.m. on Wednesday the 27th. Have a hair appointment at 10 a.m. the following morning but not before having my grand breakfast back home. *** Day 364 One of the few movie scenes I remember from my childhood was of a little boy, riding his tricycle and witnessing a pair of twin girls inviting him to play with them forever and ever. It has taken me more than 20 years to learn that that scene was from The Shining. I have always thought that it was from The Omen.  I hopped straight into bed after watching the whole of The Shining on my own. In bed laid Alex, mewing like a little lost kitten. We curled over at the girl’s side. That would be mine. Then he rolled over to his side. That would be the boy slime (boys sweat a lot in their sleep) side. We started talking somewhere between struggling in his slimy side and rolling in my little corner of seven pillows. “Just admit it,” he said. “You will never be a successful entrepreneur.” “What do you mean I am not a successful entrepreneur?” I questioned in the dark, five seconds later. “Because you are like me. We are not great PR people and all entrepreneurs are social oriented.” I was offended beyond belief! I was huff puffing in my little corner, burrowing deeper into my two down pillows. I felt like a little porcupine as we exchanged words intermittently. I was crossing my arms by the time we got to the part where I asked him to substantiate his claims and his reasons were that I did not have the personality, according to his post graduate business course in University of Bath. I fully admit that I am not the most sociable person that I know of. The most sociable person would be E, milking her PR skills to the fullest. However I find that people’s skill is very much like computer literacy or learning a new language. It is something that you learn and acquire, if you do not already have it. And you will work hard towards those skills, mainly because they are necessary for your professional growth. Alex of course, begs to differ. PR skills are in born, not acquired. ”You okay there, babs?” he asked me, then extending his right arm near me. “You know that I am right. You cannot be someone that you are not.” “Don’t you fucking touch me. I am a prickly porcupine at the moment.” Alex sniggered and cuddled closer, holding me in his arms. I crossed my arms and rolled around my side of the bed, within the confines of his arms. I made him stay up until 2 a.m. explaining his words. You do not sleep until you resolve your frustrations, so take it as a tip from Miss Love - do not start an argument in bed at midnight. Day 365 Some of you might know that previously, I had spent many days frustrated. When I started writing in ANNN, I had wanted it to be a success. Tell me who would not want their blog to be a success and I would show you a complacent soul. I wanted a lot of things from ANNN. On top of the long list, I wanted a huge readership and comments into its hundreds. I am yet to achieve either of those wants. And I could have been very frustrated and angry if not for the fact that I had discovered something between Day 237 and Day 315. After venturing to many blogs out there, I had realised that blogging was like music. It had many genres and to compare one to another was and still is utterly unfair and unachievable. You will never be happy if you compare your blog to someone else’s (be it someone better than you or someone worse off than you). Blogs Are Like Music Some blogs are like Gangsta rap. They talk about blood, politics and murder. Some are like Paris Hilton, where talent was not essential and all you needed was lots and lots of photos of your and your friends in the dressiest clothes, having loads of fun. A cute pooch would be a bonus. Emo blogs can be likened to the Alternative and Punk genres, with melancholic and depressive themes. It took me a while to find my own spot and to discover my own genre. I cannot be what I am not and I am not like any other blog out there. There were periods where I tried to do the Paris Hilton thing (have you seen how many readers some of these blogs commanded?) but that was an utter failure, to say the least. I would have loved to delete those posts, if not for the fact that I wanted to keep them as a reminder to never be someone that I am not. Being Nude Ironically one of the most important things that I have learnt in the past 365 days had to do with the word, “nude”. Being in my skin, being myself and being comfortable just that way. I had to accept my blog just the way it was. I cannot be someone else and be successful at it. I can only be me. I came to terms with the fact that perhaps my blog was a little like India Arie. A beautiful voice but never had the same recognition as Alicia Keys (for whatever reason). You just cannot compare India Arie with Eminem. They are from totally different genres and do not have anything in common. Not even their listeners. And just because Eminem has more listeners, I hope you agree with me that numbers did not reflect how talented he was as a singer. If there were any rules to go by, then it would be this; your readers reflect your blog and indirectly it reflected who you are. I can happily say that I do not have many comments in my blog but each and every comment and reader I have visiting ANNN are a smart bunch. I am most thankful that this is the case. I rather have a smaller number of smart readers and commentators than hundreds of useless comments spamming my posts each day. Pacing And Having Fun Which brings me to the next point. When ANNN started, I wrote on a daily basis. I thought that it would generate hundreds of comments because ‘hey, who doesn’t want to talk about love and relationship?”. As the days and months passed, I began to realise that this genre is an India Arie, rather than an Eminem. It was more soulful and thoughtful and thus required readers with greater attention span and intelligence. Somewhere along the line, I discovered that I had to pace my posts. Instead of tying myself to the worktable, slaving for the blog, it was better to enjoy myself in London and to observe everything around me. I wrote far better and received more comments when I started to write on alternate days. I filled the rest of the time away from the laptop and away from ANNN. I have learnt that pacing is important, lest I lose my juice. I need to live a life before I can write about having one. A wrinkly and shrivelled lemon is unappetising to your senses. What makes you think that a blog that is dried of ideas and topics does not do the same to your senses? Day 366 So here on Day 366, I am a little happy bunny. I could have sat here at my laptop on Sunday morning writing Post Number 184 or I could get out of the house, visit the HMS Belfast, take loads of photos with the Tower Bridge as a backdrop, have a super late lunch (or early dinner) with Alex in Café Hong Kong (Miss Sour Face was not working today!) and walk around Oxford Street, having fun. I am so glad I chose the latter. Incidentally I am launching an advice column called Ask Miss Love. The fashionable agony aunt is answering the questions that you have asked in the previous week. The question of the day is "Pregnant While On The Pill?". Find out more about safe sex and precautionary measures. Have your say in this topic or dedicate a hate site to Ask Miss Love because she believes (and openly promotes) honest sex education empowers young people to protect themselves. *** Related Post Ask Miss Love, a great avenue to find the answers to questions that you do not dare ask your mother/grand uncle/third sister/best friend/best gay friend/etc, lest they die of laughter or you die of embarrassment, whichever comes first. The top two HOTTEST posts are:
The better posts that Otto is quite pleased with are:
I wished these were never written:
The post that is so horrendous, it is giving Otto nightmares...
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Saturday, September 23, 2006
It's Time
  I think it's time to go home. *** Related Posts |
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Hot Man Ketchup
| *** Small Talk Three more days before ANNN turns one year old! We are launching an advice column Ask Miss Love, whereby Miss Love, our resident glamour puss celebrity nerd has the answers to all your questions! What are you waiting for? Go and post your questions today!!! *** The last time I counted, I think Alex and I are in our fourth year together. Yes, I think that is quite right. We met in Perhentian in March 2002 and he remained with me until May 20th when I flew to Stockholm. I remember tears were falling when I had to say goodbye. I spent two months with a hairy boy and I could not bear the thought of not being with him. It was odd. It still is. I remember phoning Kat from Bangkok Airport while on transit. I cried and told her that I missed Alex. I should have realised then that no friend would cry for another friend the way I did. Only lovers do. *** On our four-hour drive to York last Friday, Alex and I were at our usual rubbish self. The weather has been absolutely cooperative, seeing that leaves are starting to fall, heralding a new season and a whole new wardrobe of autumn knits, opaque tights and boots. I remember talking about ANNN (that’s About Nude Not Naked, the title of this blog, if you are new to “us”) and getting into the details of some of my readers-turn-friends. We talked about Kenny and the prospect of me changing genre (to that of a funny lady) in order to secure a higher readership following. At this juncture, Alex proclaimed that he would be the top blogger if he ever bothered blogging in the first place. “I Hot Man Ketchup,” he said. I was thinking, what the fuck is this hairy boy talking about when he launched himself into his writer genius mode. “You want some hot man ketchup for your fur burger?” he said, blinking once as he turned to look at me. Hands still on the steering wheel, of course. I could not believe a word he said. “Do you know why it’s called a fur burger?” he asked, breaking the few seconds of silence. “Erm, ‘cos if you lie on your side, it looks like one?” I interjected between him saying “fur” and “burger”. In his baby voice (all happy couples baby talk each other ok – it’s not just Alex and I) Alex remarked how smart his little “coo” is. Coo, that’s me. “I know how to make a burger out of your potatoes,” I said. “I attended the penis puppetry, remember?!” I squealed in great delight. He did not warm up to my idea of turning his potatoes into a burger. Or a hotdog. Or the other 30 assorted things you can make using your penis and testicles. Funny man Alex is, I tell you. If you were a man and you had dangling bits out of you, won’t you want to make a burger or a hotdog out of your available bits? Somewhere between Junction 8 (Stansted Airport) and Junction 12 (Cambridge) we dove into the topic of blogging. AGAIN. I was explaining to Alex the perks of celebrity blogging.
“You know, there is this misplaced British writing a relatively successful blog too,” I said. “Well,” Alex said, “will I get get to stuff lots of cute little oriental babes?” His hands remained firmly on the steering wheel still. “Erm, I doubt he gets that much action.” My face was contorted to a puzzled look thinking of the misplaced Brit blogger living in KL..... *** I love Alex because I really enjoy the open relationship we have. We are able to share almost everything with each other. We feel secured enough to know that despite our differences, Alex and I can still talk and have loads of fun. Some relationships are so delicate that you have to pretend to be someone other than yourself, just to survive the relationships. Relationship therapists have a word for it and it is called “compromise”. Simple compromises are inevitable but I was thinking more of the extreme types of changes you have to make in order to accomodate a new relationship. I feel that it is pertinent that we are able to talk about things, without hiding much from each other. Some friends found this surprising. Most boys are astonished at how I do not seem to be affected by some of the things that Alex says, namely how he thinks other girls are cute. In my opinion, men are bound to find some other woman attractive. The man would either tell you about it and you can share it together, or he could start hiding the fact from you because you are easily jealous. I don’t know about you but I think it is normal to be attracted to other people because I simply cannot declare myself the most gorgeous girl on earth, despite my huge ego. Plus I find other guys attractive, so it is all evened out. And honestly, I rather Alex to tell me the truth always. But this is not only about being honest. It is also the comfort in letting loose and being comfortable in my skin. I can tell him the first thing that comes to my mind, no matter how silly the idea is. I can be prejudice, psychobabble mad person that I can be, every now and then. And it is okay to be human. It is okay for him and it is okay for me. So I indulge in his boy’s toys such as the £200 hammock he purchased and brought home during lunchtime today and his boy fantasies (he likes to think that he can stuff every hot hoochie mama out there). He bears with my insane work schedule and pays me lots of attention on my crazier days. Hey, he listens to me while I analyse relationships with different men, both in my past, current and no doubt, in near future. We play tag at home. We chase each other up and down the stairs for fun! Our current favourite game is clinging. Each morning I would cling onto him and make small kittenish noises before he goes off to work. Sometimes he throws me on the bed and then jumps on me with his most awkward face expressions. It never fails to make me squeal with delight. Being with Alex feels right and light. He knows how to put a smile on my face. He is the best part of me and if I have only one life, this is how I want to live mine. Happily laughing when we cling for fun each morning and pseudo wrestling matches in the evenings. Most evenings we sit on our sofa, watching a movie while his hands are trying to tie the newest knot from his “Learn how to knot” book. We admire the living room again (because it took him six months to paint). He pets my feet whenever I lay them on his lap. What more reasons do you need to love Alex? Oh yes, I can think of one more. I love Alex because he has so much hot man ketchup to share *hehehe* *** Related Links Labels: Alex, relationship, Writing |
Monday, September 18, 2006
Man Of Mystery
| I am quite sure that this problem of mine is not that uncommon. As a matter of fact, I am quite certain that many of us face this question and therein, all the potential problems that it ensues. When you break up with your partner, do you keep in contact or not? Being the adult that we all try to be, I guess the answer is we do try our best to remain civil and cordial towards our boyfriends and girlfriends, even when they have become exes. This is especially true in cases where the break up was mutual. Or in my case, the break ups were due to external factors such as distance and personality change. I am a romantic at heart. You begin to realise that it sucks growing up because you become aware of the fact that romance and reality often clash louder than cymbals in an orchestra. I fell in love with a boy who was a year older than me when I was 16. I met him in our local church one fine Sunday and we became friends. Although we never spoke of our love for each other, it was nonetheless always there. It was strange, when you really think about it. How can you love someone when you never said you love him? How can you long for someone when you never told her that you cared? When you are 16 and in love, nothing on earth matters. Then everything was beautiful and every emotion was heightened. We were separated the following year when he was away to study in Bangor, Wales. I remember so clearly of nights when he telephoned me from London and all I could hear was the Tube trains chugging underground. We only spoke of our love for each other after his graduation. Naturally there were many nights spent talking and letting each other know what we have kept secret for years. Those were very special moments for both of us as we explored each other’s personalities. Strangely caught between carnal needs and a close tie to the church, we often found ourselves so drawn to each other and yet guilty for wanting to taste each other's tongues. My parents always knew of his existence. They were however unimpressed by his credibilities. What did I tell you about growing old? You just grow weary of people and so that was what they did. My mother, for one, found the fact that he was a Kadazan and originated from a village in Sabah rather difficult to accept. She was also not impressed by the fact that he was a fresh graduate with no experience nor money. “Just look at yourself. Will you be able to stay in the village with him? Farm and rear five chickens?” she told me whenever the topic of HighSchoolSweetheart cropped up. You see, in my family we have a cousin who married a Kadazan. She stays in the village with her husband, who is an engineer. They have farmlands where the chickens and ducks roamed. She plants paddy during the day and does housework in the evenings. Knowing how much I enjoy dressing up, dining out and clubbing, My mother felt that I would never survive a slow paced village lifestyle. My relationship problem with HighSchoolSweetheart was resolved when he eventually left me to be with his sister. He returned to KL after he helped his sister adjust to motherhood, found a job and sought to rekindle our relationship. By then, it was too late. There were many other suitors and Alan had been my rock for a few months prior to HighSchoolSweetheart’s arrival back in my life. That is the strange thing about him and I – I always knew he would be around and close to me, even when we were apart. From the moment I laid my eyes on him, my instinct told me that we would be together. It was such strong feelings that I felt that even if fate tore us apart, we would be together in the end because that was our destiny. There are just some things that time cannot heal. For example, a lover’s bruised ego. I think deep down in his heart, he has always been angered by my parents’ rejection. And perhaps to a certain extend, he was also frustrated by the way I carried on with my life, travelling and having a good time with my friends and my string of boyfriends as the years rolled by. It was as if I did not stop to ponder about what we were supposed to be – a pair of doves sitting on a tree. I felt lost when he told me that he wished to return to Sabah a month ago. Perhaps this time it was I who took him for granted; that as easily as he was always there for me, he was also easily gone and inaccessible. I was actually quite worried when I came to realise that perhaps I have lost him forever and this time around even Destiny could not help me. *** I received crazy text messages from an unknown person over the past week in Bath and York. I was quite worried and shared this worry with Nic, who offered to call the person to ask who he was. Clearly it was a man because he called himself “a man of mystery”. I am not too fond of men of mysteries because they often signalled some crazy stalker just pop out of the mental hospital. So I chose the best mode of response towards such text messages. I did not respond. Either that, or I would threaten to contact the police because such text messages made me feel very vulnerable and unsafe. This man of mystery then texted me some private details about myself (my date of birth, favourite clothes, food, books etc). This is not happening in London, I thought to myself. I used to receive pervert text messages and sick calls every now and then in Malaysia but it has never happened in London. One of my worst nightmares was releasing itself in London and it sent chills down my spine. “You still trying to guess who I am? What lah you!” said one of the messages while I was in the York Minster. I knew it was therefore a Malaysian, not some prankster from the UK. I kept silent still. “Come on. Why u so sombong? (trans: snobbish)” read the next. It was then I realised who it was. There was only one person who could rilled me up like that. “HighSchoolSweetheart, I am going to bloody kill you when I meet you. You know how I hate when men play the “guess who?” game.” I could almost hear him laugh all the way from Milan. Yes, using my ultra tracing skills, I tracked the phone number to a mobile in Milan but I did not know who the owner was. And there, amongst the stained glass and probably under a statue Mother Mary and Jesus, I realised it was HighSchoolSweetheart with his trademark sweet torments. Just ways to agitate, confuse and frustrate me because according to him, “you look so cute when you are angry,”. He was job hunted and sent to work in Milan for the next two years, on an extremely good salary taxfree. Think of it as the ability to purchase a low cost house every month type of salary. I had an inkling of this happening when he told me that he wanted to move back to Sabah. How did I know? I felt fishy when HighSchoolSweetheart began questioning me how much Alex earned and how much money did he save each month. It had a vibe that said: You know what? I could have provided more for you if you were with me, instead of Alex. What can he offer you, I can offer more… *** Dear Otto’s mum, Hello again, Mrs. Nude. I am sure you would remember me because I was your daughter’s first love. You used to look down on me, saying that I could not afford to keep your daughter. I am pleased to inform you that I am now a somebody. It has been three weeks since I arrived in Milan for work. My feet are lined with fashionable leather Italian loafers and on Sundays I find myself walking along Milano streets, stopping only for a shot of hot espresso. I just bought myself a new watch, which compliments the colour of my new apartment that looks across the prettiest skylines. Sometimes when I sit under the shade of an umbrella, I think to myself how life would have been different if you did not say the things you said. Would your daughter continue to love me? Would she be sitting here with me? Would I have worked hard to prove to everyone around me that I am worth something? That my colour and my ethnic were never hindrances to me? I had nothing when I first met you but now I have found myself. I wish I could look you straight in the eye and tell you, "Yes aunty, I could have taken good care of your daughter. I would have loved her with all my heart and I would have bled for her. What I lacked in material possessions ten years ago, I made up with good intentions and heart's desires. And now I have found the materials but I have lost your daughter." Life is a cruel teacher and sometimes it teaches us in the most unassuming ways. Thank you for your lesson and maybe one day, we will all find a path to salvation; that I would find my peace, that your daughter would find hers and you, yours. Until then, I shall sit here under an umbrella sipping on espresso and you will remain in your tiny home with the fenced up garden. How time has changed. Sincerely, Your daughter’s first love *** Related Posts Labels: HighSchoolSweetheart, life, relationship |
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Bath's Best Kept Secret
| Bath has this tiny little secret, neatly tucked on Quiet Street. It is a precious little gem stone, in the most unlikely place. Alex remarked that we had to visit it on my first evening walk with him. The door of the restaurant boasted lots of stuff (Top 100 Curries in Britain, Top 5 Curry in Whatsonot etc etc) and you know what? They were being modest! Located on the first floor of the building, the doors opened up to a beautiful room with three domes. Well laid and pretty compared to some curry houses, which must have been quite a feat to achieve considering how most Indian and Chinese Restaurants aim to be at their most cliche and ugliest, if the combination was possible. The service was excellent (unlike Miss Sour Face from Cafe Hong Kong in Leicester Square). All the men were courteous and smiling. Service was prompt. The food? The food is as they have described themselves to be. One of the best curries that I have tasted in my life. I was so pleased with it that I went back for their lunch time special the following day, all on my own! £6.99 per head for a starter (I chose onion bhaji), a maincourse (lamb mon pasand) and a choice of either Coke or coffee. I can tell you this. Men react differently when there are other men around you. It does not matter if it is your close male friend, your MiniBoyFriends or your work colleague. Men just behave differently when you are on your own and when you have the company of another man. The same goes for the waiters, who were more friendly and the service rendered was even more prompt than the night before. They would communicate more, maybe because they pity me sitting alone for lunch? This time I had Lamb Mon Pasand and it was utterly delicious. I had my laptop to keep me company while waiting for my lunch to arrive. I took one last walk around the small streets of Bath and here are some photos to share. Alas there are no bikini pics to share as I turned down Alex's offer to treat me to a nice spa. Sometimes the best spas are those you have with your girlfriends.... and when they are not around, even the most luxurious would make you feel poor.  Christmas starts in September!!!     If you are ever in Bath, do visit The Eastern Eye at 8A Quiet Street. You will not regret the trip. *** Small Talk One more week to About Nude Not Naked's first anniversary. We are gonna launch Ask Miss Love, an advice column on the 24th September with the first dilemma of the day. Having a problem? Why not email your questions to glamour puss Miss Love? Labels: Etc |
From York Minster With Love
| The wedding, held in a medieval hall located in the center of York, was cosy and intimate. Everyone was dressed up to the nines. There were Beatles hair-styled boys and pretty blonde girls in bright green, red and purple dresses. Some wore hats and others had curly mop of hair. I fell into the second category. The bride, Katie, was a cousin of Alex’s. She has been since a child, a very fashionable and pretty girl. The groom, Chris looked absolutely handsome in his deep brown corduroy jackets and green tie. And he spotted the Beatles haircut. Photos will be out later when I receive them from the official cameraman, Alex’s dad. Till then, here are some photos of York Minster. Oh yes, I was standing in one of them photo too! The York Minster is a beautiful church, the site of three different era – Romans, Saxons and Normans. It houses the largest collection of stained glass in the world to date.     I shall be going out for a movie with Alex in an hour. Lots have happened since my week away in Bath and York. For one, I have been in contact with both HighSchoolSweetheart and Swedish Love. When it comes to the exes, there is just no full stop, now is there? Labels: Etc |
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
An Afternoon of Love
| The weather was too beautiful to sit at my work table to write a post, so I got dressed and headed for London after lunchtime. With perfect temperature and sunny skies, Nic and I seized the opportunity to explore Carnaby Street. I am unsure if I have mentioned this in ANNN but I have a deep infactuation with fashion and here on Carnaby Street, the Biba girls and miniskirts found their humble beginnings in what was considered the fashion Mecca of the 60s. Perhaps it was a Monday or perhaps I had too high expectations of the street. But I suspect that commercialism has eaten the street. I do not feel the vibes that the street was famous for. What a total letdown. The only upside was I walked around the streets thinking how much YC might have fancied this place for its punk and mod roots. Or perhaps like me, she might have fancied it more if it was in its 60s glory. After walking up and down and round and round the whole of Soho, Nic and I found ourselves in Cafe Hong Kong, where the waitress was the rudest in the world but we put up with her sour face because the Ying Yang Iced Tea is so out of this world! Being the smartass that I am, I called for the bill before Ms. Sour Face Waitress could shove it to my face (like she did on Saturday afternoon). With fried hor fun and spring rolls swirling in my tummy, Nic and I walked to Piccadilly Circus...  Nic busied himself with photography and being the friendly person that I am, I joined in. I ended up with lots of useless photographs...    without any other person in the photo. We had to walk more to burn the excess energy. So we walked a little bit more and ended up in a very familiar place - Trafalgar Square.  I would like to see the day when a statue says "Otto expects every man to do his duty" *cheeky grin* ... where I slipped and fell trying to climb the plinth of Nelson's Column. My sneakers are not designed for climbing. Thankfully I did not fall on my cute bottom and Nic did not manage to photograph the moment. How unsexy would that be?! There was some kind of ceremony earlier in the afternoon to commemorate the September the 11th bombing five years ago. There were not many pigeons and I remember feeling quite pleased about it. Perhaps the Mayor of London shoo-ed all the boo boo pigeons away as a precautionary measure against the bird flu that seems to be migrating north. As the sun set, I ran into Charing Cross and hopped onto my train back home while Nic disappeared underneath the labyrinth of tubes. And here I am sitting at my work table at 11:30 p.m. writing this post for the second time, feeling quite happy with how the day went. I think I am happy today. What do you think? *** Small Talk It is less than 2 weeks before I fly back to Malaysia. I have been having vivid dreams and nightmares for the past week or so. Not sleeping well at all. I shall be away for the next few days, accompanying Alex on a business trip in Bath. The city is beautiful, so I shall play tourist there. And maybe I will write you a little something when I am not soaking in a Roman bath...... Labels: Etc |
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Love Is Blind
 What do you feel when you read the remark above? Do you feel disgusted? Do you pity the woman for her disillusion of what life can offer? Do you think that she is materialistic, greedy for luxuries in life to the extent that she is willing to exchange her husband’s faithfulness for the Prada, the Lexus and the penthouse facing the Petronas Twin Tower? Do you think that she does not have a spine? Do you wonder how flimsy relationships are these days? Do you think about morale and principles? What are your first impressions? That remark was taken from Kenny Sia’s latest post about modern day relationships. Obviously the whole thing garnered more than 200 comments with varied reactions. Many men defended themselves and a few testified to being loyal to their partners after XYZ years. Then there was the “girl power” thing – that women ought to take a stand and kick the crap out of the house etc etc. What I am about to offer you here is some statistics that would illustrate the whole “close one eye” incident. What do you know? Maths in secondary school is now used to demystify whether successful men are more inclined to be disloyal to their partners compared to less successful men. It all boils down to chances and possibilities. Think about it this way. Each moment you spend away from your partner represents an opportunity to befriend a new person and a chance to fall in love/lust with another person. How many people do we meet in the course of a working day? How many colleagues do we have? How many clients do we entertain? If you are not attracted to Susanna, there is Dinah, Patricia and cute Jachinta with huge tits. Tits are not your thing? Then how about Amanda with the tight, juicy ass? Oh you go for brains, is it? There is Siew Ping from the Accounts department knocking your socks off with her spreadsheet skills. There is Siti Aishah with the tudung for the kinky ones out there. You know you were always curious about the tudung girl. Then there was this one time with the client that looked like Paula Malai Ali… The list goes on and on, with the various combinations. I am sure you get what I mean. It is just a matter of time before you meet someone who would attract three seconds of your time. How many people must you meet before you meet that ONE PERSON that makes you smile? That one special girl that made your heart skip a beat? For very obvious reasons, a jet setting senior consultant in an international firm or a business man with various business connections would have more opportunities to meet the various combinations of girls, as compared to say, a man who manages a small stationary shop in Jerantut or your neighborhood gardener. Come to think of it, even your neighborhood gardener might service up to 200 families and THAT’S quite a lot of combination too. Human nature, greed or Nature’s way of ensuring your young (children) will survive in the best conditions possible. Call it whatever you want but you cannot deny the fact that women in general are attracted to men who are stable (be it emotionally, financially or a combination of both). Again this is a game of chance. So logically speaking, the more stable a man is, the higher a woman’s chance of maintaining herself and her young. While it is true that some melancholic souls are attracted to depressed/destructive men, the general rule of thumb would be women are attracted to men whom they view are “successful”. The difference between a jet setting senior consultant in JP Morgan and the office boy in charge of paper clips in the basement is ---> senior consultant has a higher chance of meeting more combination of women while office boy is stuck fiddling with the pens and A4 size paper. A politician running a campaign might shake up to a thousand hands in a day while a sailor is stuck in a submarine, surfacing on land, perhaps once every few months. A rock star like Mick Jagger serenade up to 25,000 screaming fans, so his chance of meeting a nubile nymph is much higher than your accountant, who has a higher chance of meeting a willing partner than say, your fishmonger. Actually even the fishmonger has lots of opportunities to meet house wives, out shopping for the freshest fish in the market. Does this mean that a less successful man is less likely to stray? The answer is no. He has a chance to stray, just like his more successful brother. It lies in the question of how many "wrong" women must he meet before he meets the one that catches his eye. Famous actors, celebrated musicians, millionaires and billionaires attend more parties, shake more hands and have more girls interested in them than the uncle selling biscuits on a trishaw. That’s all. If the first girl does not do the trick, there is the second, the third, the hundredth, the thousandth. How special do you think you are? You think you are special because you have this and that combination? There are thousands out there who are like you or better/prettier/smarter/younger/sweeter/more charming than you. How many times does your partner need to say “NO” before he says “YES”? Now that’s the question of the hour, my darling readers. At the end of the day, even the most loyal/loving/faithful/sweet/naïve man would eventually meet that one combination that would take his breathe away. Whether he books a "business trip" with that new lady friend or stay home with wife and kids lie solely on how much pleasure he derives from family life. I think most women who married successful men understand this basic concept. They are not “closing one eye”. They merely understood the game of chance and probability. And even if they started out as naive 19 year olds, all loved up with Prince Charming, they will grow wise by the time they turn 25. Kinda remind you of Princess Diana now, doesn't it? Even the most beautiful/powerful/rich/famous/successful women in the world are not excluded from this. (Obviously what I said above works both ways. Women are getting more and more mobile, working away from home, with equal chance and possibility of meeting the combination of men.) Now back to the lady who made the above statement... Let's rethink the whole issue again. Do you see it in a different light? Do you think the woman does not love her man? Do you think she is greedy for money to the extent of exchanging her husband's loyalty for material gain? Have you considered the fact that maybe she accepted this as part of the package? That when she said she loved him, she loved the EVERYTHING about him including his straying ways. Some men are drunks and others are bad tempered. Maybe to her, her husband’s weakness happened to be a wandering eye. I shall end this post with the Profumo Affair as an illustration.  A beautiful and successful British actress, Valerie Hobson, made the remark above. Like ex-First Lady Clinton, she was publicly disgraced when her husband, Jack Profumo, a renowned politician in the 60s was found guilty of soliciting the friendship of a 19-year-old showgirl, Christine Keeler. You can decide for yourself if Mrs. Profumo loved her husband for his money or did she accept all that he was, including his incorrigible flirting ways when she first fell in love with him. People say, “Love is blind”. It isn’t blind for nothing. *** This is a huge topic to cover. I have kept the above short and sweet but as you and I know, there are more points to explore. So do come back in a day or so (let's make it Monday 4:00 p.m. UK time) to read some other thoughts on this funny thing called LOVE and relationship.... including the reason why my mother encourages me to fish for a successful man and forget about the Average Joe. Related post
Tags love marriage relationship straying infidelity philander lust success rich commitment love+is+blind flirt flirting profumo christine+keeler Kenny+Sia Labels: life, love, relationship |
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Much Ado About Nothing
| This is my routine every morning since arriving here at the beginning of June. I get up when Alex does. Usually we give each other a morning kiss and then he slips out of bed to run the bath. He switches on the TV to BBC on his way out and when he doesn’t, I do so. He then comes back into the bedroom, flips the cosy duvet up and pull my legs until I am standing. We then tease each other and end up in the bathtub. My readers, you are not too far away whenever I am in the bathtub. I think of you guys all the time. Specifically I think of what I want to write in ANNN. Sometimes I experiment with the bubbles, covering the censored bits with some and wondering if I could photograph that for the blog. Alex and I scrub each other’s backs. Some days he washes my feet for me. Oh how I love foot rubs! He then gets out of the bath to shave while I twist and turn in the bath, like a mini dolphin. Once he gets out of the bathroom, it would be my turn at the sink. There is the cling every morning. Oh yes, the cling is something that I do each day when he says goodbye before he goes to work. I literally cling to his body and give him a good squeeze. Although not said, I know Alex enjoys this moment very much. It makes anyone feels wanted, being squeezed and fussed each morning! I sit at my work desk and start my day with emails from work, sorting out the emails from readers and checking the comments section. I usually have the TV on until past 10 a.m. The O.C. was running daily at 9:00 a.m. and I am a little embarrassed to admit to loving the show because of Mischa Barton and Cam Gigandet. Cam who? Cam is the guy who plays “Kevin Volchok”. He is the nasty surfer dude who shagged Mischa and caused her to die. Opps, was it a spoiler? When my tummy rumbles, I run to the kitchen and put some stuff onto the George Foreman Grill. By definition, “some” usually means two sausages, two slices of bacon, the occasional potato waffle and/or fried egg, mushroom & cheese. I down everything with a glass of Vitamin C and the most delicious coffee. Alex breezes through the door during lunchtime. We normally cook, chat and have lunch. Then we pig on ice creams for deserts. Sometimes we find ourselves in the garden but we are currently too lazy to weed the border. I get back to work when Alex goes back to work. Occasionally I have the pleasure of Mr. Ooi’s company. I lost Ian to the gym because he is a vain boy. Sometimes I chat with Kuzco and YC when she is not too busy. In the past two days, she has successfully tempted me to part with some dough in exchange for some drama mama dresses. That girl can sew, I am telling you. Alex and I drive to Tesco and Sainsbury when we face a dinnertime crisis. Usually it means we ran out of vegetables or eggs. Sometimes it is the mushrooms. We love mushrooms. After dinner, we jump about the leather sofa. It is the best investment we have made this year! I adore the sofa to bits and if we ever move back to Malaysia, I am sure to cart that sofa with me. When I am able to steal the control away from the Hairy Boy, I watch girlie shows. Like X Factor. I love The X Factor. I love Simon Cowell. Sharon Osbourne has the most maternal instinct, which surprises me just as much. This is the only reality TV that I have successfully caught a few episodes of. It reminds us how some people are so delusional. It is one thing to be confident and another to be unrealistic.  I google for topics that pop up in my head between the sofa fights, foot rubs, talks about the new sleeping bag Alex acquired and chasing each other around the house. For example, I read about The O.C. just before writing this post. I was checking out how delicious Kevin Volchok was. Did you see that body of his? It’s a OMG.And that’s the life of Little Miss Love when she is not wearing her high heels around London. I think I might just run into London tomorrow if the weather’s nice. Any dashing looking guy out in London kind enough to take Little Miss Love out for a drink? Labels: Etc |
You Reap What You Sow
An avalanche of approximately 3000 readers poured in the past 3 days from Kenny Sia's blog. The post in question was my Merdeka post aptly titled, "We Are 49 Years Old Now And What Have We Achieved?", basically questioning our achievement as a nation as we celebrate our independence again. Some of these readers left me with really intelligent comments, which reflects the many sentiments among the Malaysian young. Here are some of them and my response to their comments.
There is no straight answer here and the solution is still quite far away. We can however pave the way towards a better Malaysia by talking and discussing the issues raised. Labels: Emo |
Sunday, September 03, 2006
You Can't Hurry Love
~ You Can't Hurry Love Click and read the following post. The one thing that you wish as a child is to grow up as quickly as you could. And when you are grown, you realise that you do not wish for time to pass you so swiftly. It is the month of September and I seriously question myself what did I do in the last 8 months. What have I achieved? What impact did I make in this world? Where is my stamp? I was in London exactly a year ago. I was pursuing a writer’s course and started to blog out of curiosity and as a writing practice. It all began with Nude Not Naked, with the little tantalizing relationship stories of a fictious mid 20s girl with the men that surrounded her life. Perhaps a confession of some sort. The writing practice grew a small number of faithful readers who read and wrote very personal emails to me, relating similar experiences. Then grew the second blog, About Nude Not Naked – which is also the very blog that you are reading at the moment. This blog was developed as necessity to answer readers' queries and make announcements. Readers were not only curious about the heroine in Nude Not Naked, they were curious about who the writer was. So About Nude Not Naked dealt with the real me. When I started to blog about myself, I did not know what to call myself. I knew I wanted to remain anonymous because you must admit, some of my stories are very personal and maybe not just the kind I want my workmates reading. So I took on the same name as my heroine in Nude Not Naked – Otto. This proved to be a rather short sighted solution because new readers were not able to differentiate between the fantasy storybook character and the real me. One of the first few questions that readers ask is "So what's your REAL name?". And so, twelve months on, I am ready to tell you a little bit more about myself. I will start with my name. My real name is Love. Now do not laugh because I am not kidding you. My name is indeed Love. How ironic that I am writing mostly about the name my father gave me *smiles* I shall be turning 31 years old in about 6 months. I am not too worried about my age, other than the usual worry. I work in an environment that I absolutely love. I believe what I do make a difference in the world. Yet at the same time, I crave for something greater. Isn’t life all about stretching ourselves to the best possible? I want to write and I determine in my heart to write at least one book in my lifetime. Meanwhile to feed my penchant for Aldo shoes, I write short articles for a car magazine. A reader once requested for a snippet of my articles and then remarked, “You are the Paris Hilton for automobile enthusiasts”. Ah yes, I am earning small coins by writing girl-friendly car articles. In shorter words, I make cars relevant to girls. I relate them to fashion, to art and all things beautiful. ANYWAY… back to the topic at hand... Through the past year, I have received a good measure of emails from readers who stumbled upon my blog, who came to share about their stories and problems. Some asked for opinions and others just wanted to share their experiences. So I figured why not start a dilemma column as About Nude Not Naked’s first year anniversary approaches. I was once very down and during the most difficult time in my life, I received no adequate help or necessary support. Looking back, I am sure that things would have been easier if I had more information and support to help me with my decisions. Here is a chance for me to maybe help one or two people who needs a helping hand and some empathy... Because I know how much difference a little nod can and understanding can do for people who feel tormented in their situations. The objective is to answer (and discuss) questions about sex, love and relationship matters candidly. Ask-Miss-Love will be an open arena for people to share their experiences and perhaps find a solution. What I can promise is discretion and privacy. My readers can attest to that, I think. What I offer is honest replies to your questions ranging from “How many times do couples have sex on average?” to “Why do I still love him when he is so shitty?” and "Does size really matter?". The whole column is dedicated to just answering questions, so shoot me with a couple. Remember to spread the LOVE around. *** I would like to thank all my readers who had taken a journey of discovery with me. Thank you for twelve good months of learning. I would like to especially thank some of you who became such great companions. May all of us have more laughter than tears till we celebrate ANNN's second anniversary. Much love, Miss Love *** Small Talk "You Can't Hurry Love" is one of my favourite wake up songs. A very catchy tune and very wise words for all of us who are searching for love. Do check the original video by Diana Ross & The Supremes if you have the time. Well worth the extra click! |