Recently in Musings Category

Listening to old school R&B. Toni Braxton’s He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me is a favourite. I love the beat and at the same time, the cattiness of it is delicious.

Sadly the song also hits a bit too close for me. Too many times I get insecure women accusing/waging war thinking I want their men.

And I never thought I’d be able to say to a woman “I’ve already had your man” with absolute sincerity. But yeah, now I can.

The cattiest line:

”Well, I think it’s time you know the truth

I think he’s just the man for you.”

Ouch.

My rule is – if he loves me, he wouldn’t swap me for someone else. So you take my man (happened), you keep him and good riddance.

They always come back, the sodding dimwits.

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For the first time in my life, I’ve successfully (kinda) painted my nails. Yes, not much of an achievement but I’ve never done it before though I vaguely remember a sitter painting my toenails a bright red when I was a little girl.

I get it now, why women and even men are willing to spend precious minutes cleaning their hands, nails, pushing back cuticles, snipping away hangnails.

There is a sort of peace to be found in slowly, deliberately painting coat upon coat of bright paint on keratin.

Being a novice, I ended up starting over, botching a few jobs, laying on varnish too thick, missing a spot.

There is no way to hurry it. You have to do it one nail at a time, patiently waiting for one hand to dry so you can start on the other. As I wait, I carefully rest my hands waiting for the few seconds it will take for the nail polish to dry. My too short nails end up having nail polish splattered all over the surrounding skin, leaving me to carefully clean away the extra bits with a cotton bud and remover.

Short, short nails. Deep, dark aubergine-red nail polish.

I think about how my ex-fiance hated the thought of me painting my nails. How he only begrudgingly approved of one particular shade of deep brown. Of an old lover sitting behind a table and slowly painting his nails black.

I wonder how my boyfriend is doing and if his exam for today is over. And I think about an old friend, now stranger, and how I can’t even get away from him on Facebook because our friends, they’re still our friends, though we have nothing in common anymore except a past I’m learning to slowly leave where it is.

So quickly I was replaced by a prettier, taller girl who probably makes him laugh better than I did. Then there’s the smaller girl who I find hard not to like, makes everyone laugh too. I hope she’s happier than she was those years ago when she was unhappy, lonely and unsure of where she was going or what she wanted.

Am I bitter? No. I’m just taking the time to accept things change and the people you’ll always love won’t always stay.

I smile instead as my nails dry as I think of the people who laugh and talk to me in a Gmail thread that has not died, though a year has come and gone. Of old friends becoming ever dearer, of dear friends reminding me “We’re still here. Really.”

It’s 1.50 am and my damned nails are finally dry.

Today I read a resume that annoyed me immensely.

Look, I’m overjoyed by Obama’s win and then I read this resume that is so made of stupid, I don’t know where to start.

So to help you aspiring jobseekers, or those looking for work in this tough climate, here’s some free advice.

1. Use a simple format, easy to read and scan.

Example:

Name, address, email, tel on top

Don’t list it like a form.

Name: Sodding Idiot

Address: Parents’ place

No, no, no, no, no

Unless your potential employers ARE idiots, just put your name, add, email,etc at the top. Left-aligned or centred, up to you.

2. Don’t mention your race, religion, height, weight. Let them find out at the interview.

3. No need attach picturelah. Dei. Not even if you look like Jessica Biel/Brad Pitt.

4. Use BRITISH SPELLING. Especially if you’re applying for any sort of job that involves writing. So spelling “organised” as “organized” is a no-no. It shows that you are LAZY and rely too much on Microsoft’s spellchecker which is fallible. Very.

5. Keep it short, 1-2 pages. Sell yourself but don’t be too verbose. A resume is a summary of why you are uniquely qualified for the position. And no, unless you’re applying to teach at ABRSM, employers aren’t going to be interested in your Grade 8 piano. I know two people who are Grade 8 holders and only are because they were forced to go that far. Your piano skills are likely irrelevant to your application.

6. References? Just add “References provided upon request.” Because most of the time, they won’t need them and really, it’s not a wise idea to willy-nilly give out people’s contact information unless absolutely necessary.

And some general writing advice:

1. Keep your sentences short and sweet.

2. Don’t use words you don’t know.

3. Clarity, clarity, clarity. Make it easy for your readers to understand what you’re writing.

4. Do you know the difference between it’s and its? There’s and theirs? If you don’t know how to use the apostrophe, then please, don’t apply for a writing job.

It’s = It is.

Its = possessive of ‘it’/to show something belongs or is a trait of ‘it’

Because I want to save the world from bad resumes, feel free to email me with questions about your CVs or leave your comments. I promise I will answer you.

I remember blogging once about my many ‘sides’. And till today I still feel somewhat splintered. Not multifaceted but torn and twisted into too many directions.

When it comes to God, when it comes to serving Him, I was asked to write down at least five things I could do.

And one of the five things I wrote was: I don’t know.

Yes, being ‘good’ or feeling like I’m doing something for Him is somewhat fulfilling, but see, I use the word somewhat. Am I not giving enough? Am I holding back? I walk towards what I think is the right direction, end up stumbling and then pausing on the road, wondering if I’m doing something wrong because the road just doesn’t seem to get any easier.

When I turn the other direction and just give in to my hedonistic side, let go and just follow the path of satiating all my desires, it isn’t all that great, either. I feel the pull towards something higher and I try to obey.

I want to please You. But I don’t know how. I can’t just go through the motions, can’t gambol with the other sheep though I try. I really, really do try. The other sheep are really nice and welcoming but when I see them meekly coming into the paddock, I linger behind the gate, pop my head in and then run out again.

Sometimes, I cock my head at the shepherd, eyeing him silently. Just so he knows I’m there. Still in the flock, still tending to gambol off far to the edge of the field, disappearing behind a hillock sometimes. But I come back. I always come back.

Despite having You in my life, I still feel empty. There are pockets of darkness the light can’t quite reach. Is it because I can’t or I won’t let you in? But I know no matter how empty I feel right now, before You, all I had was a black hole that nothing could fill.

I can live with the pockets, so long as You remind me that You’re still there. You waited at the door for me to let You in, and now I just have to muster the courage to let you see everything.

And last week, when I felt abandoned by someone I trusted, who made me feel small and undesirable, someone else came along who helped me feel ‘whole’. That though one person saw me as flawed and unattractive, the other saw what the other couldn’t. The funny thing was that the latter person had once hurt me, badly, but he tenderly fixed not just my anguish but wiped his own slate clean. I’m grateful to him.

I guess that’s how You see me. Flawed, yes, but redeemable. Imperfect but Yours. And oh, how You love what’s yours. I’m just as grateful today for your grace but even more for Your love.

I don't know how my friends stand me when I'm such a love junkie. Always falling in some mire, oblivious to my own misery the way a moth would ignore its burning wings just to creep closer to the flame.

But despite my propensity for trouble, and my penchant for a lack of self-regard, they do try very hard to keep my body and mind safe and sane. That's why I'm tickled to listen to Dave Barnes's Stay Away. It's about a man warning a known heartbreaker to stay away from his friend. And I've been on the side where you see someone going somewhere you know is really bad. A friend's responsibility is to warn loved ones from harm and even if the warnings are ignored, to then stay around to pick up the pieces.

She hangs up the phone and she
Lays wide awake
Holding onto the heart you, again will break
It’s not that she’s innocent
And she’s not been defiled
Yes she picks up the phone, well
It’s you who dialed
And I know she tells you to stay
But please, stay away
Stay away
Stay away
I know this is heavy
I know I seem mad
But you’re the one who laughs and runs while
She’s standing sad
We both know where this is going from your history
She again will fall in love
You again will leave.
And I know she’s telling you to stay
But please, stay away
Stay away
Stay away
She wears her heart on her sleeve
Yeah she’s crying her eyes out to me
Heaven or hell she will go through
Depends on you
Depends on you

Talking about a friend’s current paramour, she huffed and said, “Well, it’s obvious he hasn’t learned anything from his previous ones!”

I guess that I have more in common with her boyfriend than I’d like to admit. The dubious title of being able to “Love as if you’ve never been hurt” means being able to jump right in, without the restrictions of past hurts or rational thinking getting in the way.

Spent a bit of time reading my old Livejournal and boy, if you thought I am emo now, you should have read my old (deleted) LJ entries. I sounded like a fragile, emotionally high-strung love addict. In some ways, I still am.

Because deep within this cynical, hardened facade I still like to believe in the healing, redemptive powers of love. That through all things, love can still redeem and strengthen and make better our times of darkness.

An apt ode to love is one written in this short story by Paulo Coelho:

There are moments when we would like very much to help someone we love deeply and we just can't seem to do a thing. Either circumstances prevent us from drawing closer or else the person has shut off to any gesture of solidarity and support.

So, all we have left is love. In those moments when everything is useless, we can still love - without expecting anything in return, any exchanges or thanks.
If we can manage to act in this way, the energy of love begins to transform the universe around us. When this energy appears, you always perform your work successfully.

"Time does not change men. Will power does not change men. Love changes men," says Henry Drummond.

I read in the newspaper about a child in Brasília who was brutally beaten by his parents. As a result, she lost her body movements and her power of speech.
Admitted to the Base Hospital, she was taken care of by a nurse who said to her every day: "I love you." Although the doctors guaranteed that she could not hear and that the nurse's efforts were all to no avail, she kept repeating: "I love you, don't you forget that."

Three weeks later on, the child had recovered her movements. Four weeks later, she started to talk and smile again. The nurse never gave any interviews and the newspapers did not publish her name - but let it be registered here, so that we will never forget: love is a great healer.

Love transforms, love heals. But at times love builds mortal traps and ends up destroying the person who has decided to surrender completely. What strange sentiment is this that deep down is the only reason for us to go on living and struggling and trying to make things better?

It would irresponsible of me to try to define it because, like any other human being, all I can do is feel it. Thousands of books have been written about it, plays put on at the theater, films produced, poems scribbled, sculptures carved in wood or marble - and even so, all that the artist can convey is the idea of a feeling, not the feeling itself.

But I have learned that this feeling is present in the small things and manifests itself in the most insignificant of attitudes we take, so we must always have love in mind when we act or fail to act.

Picking up the phone and uttering that affectionate word we have been putting off. Opening the door and showing in someone who needs our help. Accepting a job. Leaving a job. Making that decision that we were putting off for later.

Apologising for a mistake we made that will not leave us in peace. Claiming a right that we have. Opening an account at the florist's - which is more important than the jeweller's. Playing the music loud when your loved one is far away and lower the volume when he or she is nearby. Knowing how to say "yes" and "no" - because love involves all of man's energies. Discovering a sport that can be practiced by two. Not following any prescription, not even those listed in this paragraph - because love calls for creativity.

And when none of this is possible, when all that is left is loneliness, then remember a story that a reader once sent me:

A rose dreamed day and night about having the company of the bees, but none ever came to land on her petals.
But the flower went on dreaming: during many a long night she imagined a sky with lots of bees flying towards her and kissing her tenderly. In this way she managed to resist to the next day, when she opened again to the sunlight.

One night the moon, knowing how lonely the rose felt, asked her:
- Aren't you tired of waiting?
- Perhaps. But I have to struggle on.
- Why?
- Because if I don't open up, I will wither.

At moments when loneliness seems to crush all beauty, the only way to resist is to keep yourself open.

So Irene and me were yamcha-ing with a nice bunch of people after watching Bangkok Dangerous.

One thing we noticed and agreed upon was this particular bunch’s ability to quote a movie line by line, even taking turns to describe the setup of scene. Think choral reading done with movie scenes.

Is this a male thing? I don’t know a single female who can do that with any other film besides the sap fest that was Jerry McGuire. Seriously, the line “You complete me” is one of the most over-repeated lines ever; but the Joker saying it in the latest Batman film was just priceless.

I can quote poems, books, and annoyingly my friends (blackmail material ftw) but movies? Unless it’s Lord of the Rings, I don’t think so.

Is it because males are visual creatures, who find it easier to remember lines when spoke with visual effects to support them?

It might be a cue for teachers to start using animation or visual storytelling when trying to get points across. Perhaps they’ll be ideas for a certain ‘Learning Teacher’ I know.

Aside that is totally unrelated: What’s with Gmail’s emoticons? I say…ebeh.

Irene and me get on well most times, but on one position we tend to differ – makeup.

I insist it’s necessary and she chants the mantra “Bare face! Bare face!” like a war cry.

No, I don’t believe that we have to spend money on pricey creams by La Prairie or wear designer togs all the time. But there’s nothing wrong with putting a little effort into your appearance.

It always shows and people are almost always appreciative. Have given up on my hair because no matter what I do or try, it always ends up looking bedraggled anyway. So I adopt bedroom hair or messy, tousled waves because I don’t have the time to blowdry my stubborn hair into a semblance of normalcy.

But I do try and take some effort with the face. The picture in this post isn’t my forcing my less-than-perfect mug on you but to announce my new Holy Grail – mineral makeup. I blame Beatrice.

Tried Body Shop’s range and I love the colours…but not their staying power. So I ordered samples from LovingMinerals.com, who stock the affordable and much praised Lumiere mineral makeup line. That’s me after trying on their foundation, Silk Veil, Sundew radiance and a hint of blush. It took me less than 5 minutes to sweep the minerals on and it definitely looks more natural than my attempts with liquid foundation. I don’t look too madeup and I don’t look like the corpse that woke up this morning. Powder foundation always tends to look chalky on me and besides Bobbi Brown, few brands stock colours that look good on me. And Bobbi Brown is super-expensive…though its cream concealer is probably the best thing ever invented.

Curious about mineral makeup? Definitely try LovingMinerals – service is speedy and you get free delivery for purchases exceeding RM100. I advise buying the sample sets first so you make sure you get the right shades and there’s enough in the pots for you to play with until you’re absolutely sure you can’t live without mineral makeup.

And to learn how to apply it – I suggest YouTube and searching for “applying mineral foundation”. Worked for me!

I'm going to sound like a hypocrite here, but it's bothering me the fixation women are publicly having about their bodies. Why have we become a culture where it's the acceptable norm to talk about our weight, how fat we are and bemoan calories and our lack of exercise? All the frickin' time?

People are going to have opinions about your body. Sometimes, they won't be flattering. But when you start to loathe yourself, there lies the path of pain and self-recrimination.

The simple truth is that everyone has warped perceptions of their bodies. Even the skinniest, hottest woman you know might be obsessed with so-called cellulite.

I have the odd moment when I look at my old pictures and wish I could have told the old me that there was nothing wrong with her. When I was a nice, healthy 55kg, I obsessed about a non-existent gut (which is sadly now existent) and bemoaned how unattractive I was. But when you're bombarded with images of unattainable physical standards, it's easy not to appreciate what you already have.

"Women are expected to be attractive. Those perceived to be unattractive become offensive and not worthy of being seen in public. Men, on the other hand, are free to be as crude and ugly as they wish, and in many cases are expected to be." - DailyIllini.com.

I hate that women I adore and admire turn into self-doubting, crushed individuals because the popular perception is that women who don't have 'perfect' bodies aren't worthy of affection, admiration, sexual attention or love.

To be brutally honest, some men do prefer slim, toned women. Does that mean the rest of us not-so-slim, not-so-toned should just drop ourselves into the unattractive bucket and accept life's cruelties?

If you're unhappy with your body, let it be because you think you deserve better than to haul around an extra spare tire with you all the time. Not because you care that someone will find you unattractive. The people who love you, will love you whatever skin you're in. And the ones who love you enough will gently prod you to do something about the skin if it needs some work, because we all need a reminder to not let ourselves go sometimes.