Scratching cars

Lately we have been trouble with parking space. Or the lack of it.

A handful of tenants at this condo here seem to take little heed that our car park is NOT THEIRS. Even my tenant's FRIEND is claiming it for her own! We have asked the guards to clamp cars before yet it does not seem to work.

Even my tenant's friend seem to be claim to the guard that the car park is HERS and to to clamp all other cars besides hers. Audacious, right? I just got to know this new development after another fracas with the guards for not keeping my car park space empty.

I will be getting a house on my own the next time I move as I can't really stand this stress.

I want a Hedgehog for Christmas

What a listless Saturday.

So we decided to look for a pet. I have my heart set on a pair of hedgehogs.

They are less timid than rabbits, far larger than hamsters and with far more character than fish. I have all the space for them and while they are no dogs, I secretly intend to teach them to bark.
Anyway, we popped by Pet’s Safari at The Curve today. A hedgehog cost a whopping RM400! Should have just smuggled one out when I was in England.

www.monster-this-way.come

Lately I have been playing with the idea of starting a new blog, with a personal domain name and more pictures, with my present anonymity cast away so that friends and family can visit. Yet there are benefits hiding behind by the Bear and Sheep (which by the way sounds like a good name for a pub.)

It is the attestation of my cowardice. As my online journal, the blog chronicles my good days and my bad days, of family celebrations and heartbreaks, of good friends and the people I want to chop into small tiny bits to stuff into dumplings but who have no idea I think of them that way - your know, the historical fluff that one gathers in the infinate roll of the dustball of time.

I don't necessarily want to lose my job or hurt anyone's feelings but due to the stresses of daily life and the most annoying parties I have to deal with on a regular basis, a release mechanism has to be in place so that I won't end up in a straitjacket cooing to the tune of Rocky. Hence Monsterpiece.

I began this blog soon after I broke up with my ex Boyfriend. I figured that it is a public enough platform to vent on what a low-down-good-for-nothing-spineless-bastard he is. But surprise, surprise, I have not blogged about him even ONCE until now if memory serves me right. Of course I went on to vent about a HOST of other things. And I am getting very attached to this little plot of cyberspace.

Having an open blog would mean that I would have to censor myself.
OR it could mean that I would have to stop complaining and focus on the positive rather than the negative. Darn. I have become very attached to my little spot of raincloud too.

I need my own motorised vehicle

It has been pouring bathtubs in KL lately.
Naturally traffic was at chaotic.

It culminated to a climax last night when the KTM Kommuter to KL Sentral station was experiencing scheduling trouble, the Monorail was down and the LTR Putra was down as well. So many train services and each as hopeless as the other.

Of course cab drivers had a field day picking and choosing their passangers and hiking the prices. I had to offer the taxi driver an extra 10 buck on top of the meter before he would agree to take me home. I normally detest spoiling the market like this but I was so desparate to go home.

I seriously don't get the transport system in this country. It is customary for the public tranport providers to blame the heavy rain and floods but after all this is tropical country, duh. It is not as if it was a snowstorm or something. You would think our engineers would have figured it out.

This business of soul searching is tiring business. Actually the term is a misnomer is it can’t really be regarded as searching when:
1. I have no idea what I am looking for
2. It has never gone missing. The lot is still here.

Maybe the correct term is DECIDING.

Lean pickings

Once upon an eon ago, some one told me that I belonged to the Arts. I took that to be a great compliment as he was smack in the middle of it. I like to indulge myself in thinking that I am right-brainer, dangerously artistic and intuitive.

So last week when a senior lawyer said to me straight to my face that I am not creative I actually choked. On the spot I came up with a few ways to cause her grievous harm. Who is she to say I am not creative? She then went on to say that I have a problem in my thinking. Maybe she is right in that department. Slashing her Mercedes Benz in broad daylight would just be too obvious.

Of course it is trite that lawyers would need that bit of creativity to further their client’s (or their own) interests but I have been going out of my mind for the last 8 months from work that is sometimes so dry, it would put Ryvita to shame.

Well she was not too happy that I was not able to construct a particular clause to her satisfaction. Hence the scathing comment.

But there is some truth in her comment.

Take a person out of a creative environment and put her into a sterile environment, all will and enthusiasm die a lingering death at a pace so slow that the subject hardly notices it at all.

Shahrukh Khan

Wuahahaha. Blast from the past.

At one point this bloke broke the hearts of many a college girl. I think he still does. I was at my friend's office the other day and his posters were everywhere.
So here is a homage to the one star that once too sent my heart a flutter.

It began with Dilwale Dulhania le Jayenge (1995). I was in Hong Kong at the time and through an amazing network of friends we got this Hindi film for the weekend and my best mates (bless them) translated every line for me. Hey, I can even still a song from the movie ok. Only i have no idea what it means still.

The Indian bug bit hard and I was throwing myself at my indian heritage. So much so that this one guy wanted to send his parents from Madras to meet my family in Malaysia to ask for my hand in marriage!! Fuuyo! He was no where close to my Shahrukh so I told Mr Creepy to go back to Dubai.

Oh those were the days!

Proffesion of choice: Housewife

Only 6 weeks and counting.

Honestly I am quite surprised that I have come so far. Survived rather.

There is nothing as agonizing as doing something that you unhappy doing. So my heartfelt respect and empathy goes to all the people out there who are stuck in shitty situations that they can’t get out of and yet soldier on everyday.

I am quite convinced that I will leave the profession, for the million reasons I won’t go into now. When I tell people, I get a litany of WHYs.

Why don’t I want to practice?
Why did I take law?
Why do I waste my time with chambering?
Why do I go on and on about my unhappiness and not do something about it?

A lot of people can’t understand my decision and quite a few have been vocal about their disapproval although my mates have been brilliant with their support, especially the young lawyers, ironically. Yet at times I feel like a quitter because I am giving up because it’s too hard.

That does not make me feel less guilty though especially towards my Mom and Dad. I am torn between finding happiness for myself which may just land me in the poor house OR alternatively traveling the tried and tested route to eventually earning enough to turn from being their dependant to their provider.

And it does so NOT help that I have not figured out what I want to do with my life. Sure, half of me wants to run off to be a UN field officer or another Irene Fernandez, but then I would also like to be able to spend time with my family, own a decent house and vacation in the Alps.

Too many people are selling their souls to their jobs and sadly this is viewed positively. A proud mother was telling me of her daughter who left her firm at 4 am only to return to the office again by 6 am.

There is a perverse pride associated with working to death.

But what is the point of working so hard so that you can afford the surgery to remove the ulcer you get from working too hard?

What not to say to a bootlegger

Over the weekend, I found myself at Low Yat, the notorious haven for bootleg IT software. I figured I may as well get myself a PC game. I was browsing among the stacks of dirt cheap CDs and DVDs until I spotted an interesting game sitting just inches from the blond haired, tatooed peddler.

As it was so noisy, I raised my voice and pointed my finger at the DVD seller, and hollered,"PIRATES! PIRATES!"

You can imagine the glares I got, especially from the seller.
Then I hurriedly mumbled "Pirates of the Carribean", paid him for my purchase and quickly made my exit.

K tells me that he will never take me there again. Apparently I am too dangerous.