relocation motion communication potion baby-lotion

State relocation calls for a blog site relocation, too!

I'm now at this funky spot

Something's missing.

It’s not helping when everyone around you are off to work and u’re left at home, with the internet and cover letter templates with job search websites.

Once bitten twice shy. I guess I’m now more fearful of the jobless situation than before because I’ve been bitten by it last year. But what else can I do but keep fighting this battle with my eyes wide open?

Why do I love the media industry? It’s so fierce, cold and cruel. I don’t know how to produce a good resume, when I feel that I’m not good enough for companies out there. I don’t think I have skills to offer. But since I’ve come this far, I might as well type out the naked truth of my noobness and pride myself of my skin’s thickness.

I’m really grateful for all those around me who are helping me through this. In spirit and in asking high and low for vacancies. I just hope that this time, it’ll be less painful.

How do I see God in the midst of desperation? How do I sincerely pray for providence when the faith fuel is running low? How do I bow before Him empty, with no emotion, no feelings, no thoughts? Something is missing. Something really important is missing.

First love.

dusty sweeps

Lessons learnt while packing my room of 22 years:

Never keep rubbish.
Gosh I threw out so many bags of stuff. Things I had no idea why I kept them for.

Never use Jusco recyclable plastic bags to store things.
It breaks into flakes when u touch it after leaving it there for a year. Took me so long to clean up the flakes of plastic flying around my already messed up room.

Always use new stuff and never keep it for later.
I used to keep my new stuff so I can use them for bigger occasions, and then I’ll forget I actually had them. So it never got used and now they’re rusted or broken or expired or eaten by time. And it gets thrown away. Wasted.

Always be ready to face the past.
I came across my diaries that I owned when I was in form 3, 4 and 5. They never lasted till May. It was entertaining to read it again but at the same time, extremely humiliating as well. Thank goodness they are kept deep in my pile of junk. I had so much fun laughing at my own childish thoughts and folly. I met the 16-year-old Jezamine who thinks that the world would end because the guy she likes is avoiding her. Or wished the ground would eat her up when she wasn’t allowed to go to the most happening party of the year.

Have fun.
nuf said.

hostile hospital

The muffled female voice kept going on and on after the bell “nombor tiga tujuh lima lapan… bilik empat”. It’s amazing how the machine is not annoyed at her own repeated voice.

I was at the HUKM’s eye clinic with my granddad one morning, waiting for his pre-op tests to be done. My poor datuk had to wait from 7am till 2pm, shuffling up and down the wards, doing checkups after checkups. He even had to fast from 12 midnight the night before so his blood can be tested clean.

In the waiting room filled with emotionless people, I can’t help but feel frustrated at how the everything was functioning on an extremely shabby system. Looking at the faces of everyone around the room, I also felt numb, and didn’t want to even think about complaining or expressing my frustration. Just let me get this over and done with and let me go home.

So I stood next to my granddad who was holding tight to his crumpled docket with his number printed on it. His eyes never left the number board with the blinking red numbers with arrows on them. The whole time he kept saying I should go do what I have to do, meet my friends, go out and see stuff… I guess he, too, felt bad I was there. I didn’t regret accompanying him all morning. I just feel bad I can’t do anything to make things better.

The younger ones were slouching on the metal waiting-chairs, keeping their eyes shut, pretending to sleep. I’d dare say that it’s to avoid witnessing the older folks struggling to stand with their canes, which they then had to avail their seats for them. The man behind the counter snapped back at me when I asked him where I can get a stamp for a proof of payment. “pergi klinik sebelah! Tak de orang di sini untuk chop bagi u!” (go to the other clinic, the person who stamps it is not here)
Ok fine! Don’t have to give me that attitude. I was tempted to roll my eyes right back at him and walk away showing him the “whatever” sign. But I didn’t. There’re enough grumpy people in the world already, I shouldn’t contribute to the stats. So I smiled at him and went to klinik sebelah—only to find the ‘stamper’ is out for morning tea. Great.

Maybe if I would have to see so many different kinds of patients everyday with different eye conditions, I might get grumpy too. Maybe it’s the uncontrollable crowd that spoils the whole system. Maybe the air conditioning wasn’t at optimum temperature. Maybe they’re hinting we should go to private hospitals and pay way more than this lousy service to hoi polloi of the normal class. Maybe I should just stop being so judgmental and be grateful that my granddad’s vision is ok now.

pol-ethics

I’m not a big fan of politics. Especially really messed-up ones. If you start a conversation with me about the government, or any related system, I’d most probably zone out to think about my upcoming meal, or would listen to what’s being discussed so that I can use it for my next unfortunate encounter with a political conversation.

Now, that used to be my indifferent attitude towards something I should pay more attention to. These days being back here in a land that’s bound by its muffled ways, I’ve begun to have this (sad but true) hatred towards the cruel world of politics in Malaysia. Not because it has suddenly harmed me in any way. It’s always been there, the problems, the bad guys, and the complaining citizens. But I dislike the idea of it lately because it is making my best friend cry. I don’t like that. Not at all.

I wish I could find a gang and beat up the situation out of its snare. I would stare deep into the beat-up condition, stick my tongue out, and warn it to stay away from my friend and stop bullying people who have such a big heart for the betterment of the future. Go away and stop all this nonsense will ya?!!!!

I need...

I need to run a spot check over my fears and splash it with a pail of cold water.

I need to carbon copy my memories of Adelaide and zip lock it in my heart.

I need to send my brain to detention and make it write out "one thought at a time" for 1000 times on the chalkboard.

I need to "always anticipate abundance", says the $900 seminar man.

I need to stick a cork up the tear pipe and keep the waterworks from happening, and only release it when the thick fog of reality starts to infiltrate my moment.

I need to sleep.

revamp

“Jez, u’ve not been updating ur blog” says my friends conveniently.

“Oh yea… I have a blog site! How could I forget…” says my brain nonchalantly.

So here I am, apologizing for the silence. Also apologizing not for the amazingly busy and eventful few months I had previously, but for the obligation to let some of my thoughts out into cyber space and possibly avoiding the above conversation in real life.

With not many days left in Adelaide, I’ve been savoring every last bit of everything of every moment. Just yesterday, while driving from Life FM back to Su Ling’s place (45mins drive), the orange engine light came on at the 40th min. I thought I could make it back to the house to check the problem, but at the 44th min, the car decided to die on me, while I was about to turn into Ashbrook Avenue. So at the crazily busy junction, I popped my hazard lights on, praying hard that cars coming from both directions will not smash me and UZY into pieces.

I called Su Ling for help. Thank God she was at home. A lady crossed the inhumane road to offer help. She was so cool. She looks a bit like Corinne Bailey Rae hidden behind huge shades. Another lady stopped her car and came to help as well. I savored the scenario of 3 girls (2 of them are totally strangers) pushed a car (I steered) pass two lanes at rush hour, up a small slope, into the lane I was supposed to turn into.

As they were pushing, I peeked at the rear end mirror and saw 3 girls laughing and bopping up and down as they pushed the dead car. I can’t help but smile and thank God for kind road users who saved me from the ferocious traffic.

There’s so much more to treasure and smile upon. But I think for now… I need to turn off my computer. It’s gonna die on me soon, too!

Oh by the way… I do not know what’s going on with the borders of my blog page…. Need revamp!