Thursday, March 29, 2007

Why not now?

If I live to be 74, my middle age will be now.

Thing is, I don’t think I will live that long.

My father was 49 when he passed away. Assuming: I have better diet (read - richer, more cholesterol), less stress (read - deadlines deadlines), more comprehensive medical attention, and the feel-good cocktail of female hormones – my expiry date would be somewhat extended. Say the extra time is 20%. My shelf life would then be 60. Reasonable maths I think, yes? That would make 30 my middle age, no? With all these assumptions plus my kumon maths, honey, I am waaaaay past middle age to have a mid-life crisis. As it is, I am already late by SEVEN year. Who says one must be in her 40s to be entitled to a mid-life crisis? Nobody ever calls it a ‘mid-40’ crisis. It is called ‘mid-life’ for a reason. So let’s not split hair over this.

Now that we have agreed that a crisis is overdue, let’s decide on what crisis I should be having.

So what is the typical crisis a middle-aged person can have? A man with an itch will use ‘mid-life crisis’ as an excuse - a medical condition. Wives are to stay home and wait out for the man to outgrow this most unpleasant phase. If he marries the ‘other woman’, the phase becomes permanent. The wife will be the one ending up with a lifetime crisis. One man wins, two women loses. Or three. Or four.

I have searched high and low, but I couldn’t find an itch anywhere. Well maybe a bit behind the ears. But the spots are within reach for a good scratch-and-win, so no big deal. That is to say, I am not about to take a second husband (Yamtuan, you rule!).

Boredom? Aaaahh… Now, let me think.

Home is too chaotic to be bored about. Sun is at that terrible age of two while Dot is all out to overthrow me and reign as the new queen of drama. One time I asked her to go take a shower. It was late and she was still loitering in front the tv. She said no. I said fine, she can jolly well go to school in her pyjamas and see if I give a burp. To this she cried and wailed, ‘but I love you! How could you do this to me? Why o why? I thought you loved me.. if I die, you wont have me anymore’ Aiyohhhh…. Drama one kind! I am not even exaggerating! What a prodigy, don’t you think? And the award goes tooooooo…oo DOT!! With all the ruckus, the neighbors probably think that I am forcing her to go wed some ancient but rich penghulu kampung. Now THAT’s not such a bad idea after all. I’ll think more about this.

At home, I am forever dodging attacks from my little cicakman of a son plus the soap operas of Dot. No, I am not bored at home. Never really have time to think about it either.

The office, however, is another story. I feel bored, I am tired, I am wasted. I am sick of doing same-ole-same-ole, about had it up to here *pointing the forehead* with desk job. I want excitement, some action. Too bad I am too short to be a cop. Plus I am clumsy and heavy. Wouldn’t it be great otherwise, to chase different crook everyday? Shoot some bad guys. Kapow! Kapow! While I am at it, maybe I can cut off some bad husbands too – there, where it hurts the most. Blow up some C14s and then go nenong-nenong on the big white bike. Best of all, the ability to stop traffic just by the flip of my hair and hand – fully dressed at that too. Cooool. But alas, never gonna happen, too short.

Now that I let myself think ehem … seriously about the lack-of-lustre in my mundane mundane job, I am beginning to see a crisis forming itself. Crisis 1) boredom at work.

I want to stop being so responsible all the time. I want to throw caution into air, pack my knapsack and go skygliding somewhere. Maybe I can glide off from the roof of my office as a start. To heck with clocking in at 9 and out at 6. I want to glide freely, land on solid ground, neck intact, limbs all in place, wipe the nervous sweat off my face with a nice thick blue towel and throw the wet towel back to the office and say, I am outta here, TATA.

Over dinner with Anedra the other day, for want of sympathy, I whispered to her, ‘Oi, I am having a mid-life crisis’.
She answered ‘Can’t you wait a few more years for that? At least 3 more years?’
Laugh-laugh-laugh. Wait sum more? When I am already late?
No sympathy there.
Never one to give up so easily, I waddled over to Maya and whispered to her, ‘we must meet soon. I am going through a mid-life crisis.’
‘Hehehehe, okay’.
Chuckle-chuckle. Just ‘okay’? No, not okay! How can?
With Yamtuan as I snuggled in closer for better dramatic effect, ‘Sami, I am going through a mid-life crisis.’
‘Oh pigida *go away*.’ was the reply.
Piggy what?? Where?
To my boss, ‘Ma’am, I can’t and won’t do this report because I am having a mid-life crisis’.
I don’t remember what she answered but I remember staying up late to finish the blooming report. See what I mean?

I have decided that that could be another issue to make a crisis of, (2) nobody pays attention to miserable poor crisis-ful me.

*Wail! Wail! Pull hair! Beat chest! Flail arms to the sky!*

How long is this supposed to last? Not too long I hope, because dammit, nobody seems to notice!


Midlife Crisis is a natural process (first identified by the psychologist Carl Jung) and it is a normal part of 'maturing'.

If you are going through midlife crisis, you might experience a wide range of feelings, such as:
a) Discontent with life and/or the lifestyle that may have provided happiness for many years
b) Boredom with things/people that have hitherto held great interest and dominated your life
c) Feeling adventurous and wanting to do something completely different
d) Questioning the meaning of life, and the validity of decisions clearly and easily made years before
e) Confusion about who you are, or where your life is going.

Sri Banang

Puas dok cari lirik, akhirnya jumpa kat blogspot kak sya !! Sikit je, tapi dari tidak, baik ada.

layang-layang bertali benang
putuslah benang diganti tali
saya seorang duduk mengenang
orang dikenang tak ambil peduli

putuslah benang berganti tali
talilah pula bertukar ganti
orang dikenang tak ambil peduli
biarlah saya membawa diri

oh cry! cry! cry! cry!
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Datuk Ahmad Jais - Konsert Bahtera Merdeka

I have always been a huge huge fan of Datuk Ahmad Jais. Always. And Dato’ Sharifah Aini too. And Dato’ Yusni Hamid. See the similarity? No sillies, not the dato’ bit. It is the genre of music. Yes yes, I did buy Dato’ Siti Nurhaliza’s CD, only once – the Cindai album. You see, I am into asli songs. Big time! No surprise since my father’s side are all into ghazals. To me, nothing rocks more than lagu asli.

And so when I heard that DAJ would be performing at Istana Budaya, I immediately called Yamtuan. I said, take me take me – there I mean. And Yamtuan being Yamtuan said, no way. No force on earth could make him be seen at such concert. Never. What would people say? His image would be ruined! End of story. But if I could talk or trick someone else into going with me, by all means, I could go – so he said.

I wouldn’t be such a huge fan if I could not figure out whom to go to the concert with me, right? The timing of the concert was perfect; it was around the birth date of my boss. And so, I bought tickets for her as a birthday present. I couldn’t expect to send her to the hall alone so I HAD to get a ticket for me too. Perfect. She’s a Johorean, from Kuala Sedili no less. How could she say no to DAJ’s concert? How could she turn down a birthday present? Brilliant! Kan? Come to think of it, if I switch on my charm at full blast – how could anyone say no? Mwehehehee…

23rd March. The Bahtera Merdeka concert!

The hall was full, tickets all sold out. And I could see many famous faces. The blue bloods were there, who’s who in the music industry, some politicians, some high-ranked government servants, the famous and the rich – they were all there too.

And then the magic started!

The concert was everything I imagined and hoped it would be. One beautiful song after the other, 3 hours of DAJ at his best LIVE! Liza Aziz and Haziq AF4 coould not steal the night. Dato’ Siti was there. But not even her could steal the show – tried as she did. It was a feast to all my senses. Beautiful music, lyrics, voice and dancers. My heart felt gripped with a thousand and two emotions. But, you know what I felt most? A heart-wrenching rindu. Especially during the song Sri Banang.

S.Atan played the accordion with Pak Ngah. And watching him, I was transported back to when I was a kid watching Abah played the accordion. My heart was tugged relentlessly. I miss you an awful lot, Abah. I looked around the enchanted hall and I saw many daughters with their mothers and I was reminded of my Mak. Those days when she was much stronger, much younger and much easier. Oh Mak, I miss your old self. Her birthday is coming soon. Mak would turn 57 this year. I would have loved to bring her to the concert but she wouldn’t enjoy the travelling. Can someone please build another Panggung Budaya in Kluang? Pretty please? And drag DAJ there by his hair! White platform shoes and all.

The concert lasted longer than it should (because DAJ talked too much to Ali Bakar’s liking (Ali Bakar – Pengarah Persembahan)). Nobody was complaining of course. I for one, wouldn’t mind at all if Datuk wanted to stretch it till the morning. I didn’t want the magic to end.

But it did. After an encore where he sang two more songs, the concert was over. And I reached home half past midnight – melancholic but not sad – just plain rindu and very much in-love.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Tumpah Belilah

Tadi dekat stesen sentral, keluar dari Komuter, saya guna eskalator. Macam biasa waktu-waktu pagi begini, ramai orang! Dan macam biasa juga, hari-hari, saya kelewatan. Tetapi, lewat macam manapun, walau puak yang gunakan Komuter seperti kebiasaannya, kurang sikit adab menaiki eskalator, saya tetap malas nak gunakan tangga. Orang pegi gym, macam tu lah.

Sewaktu saya tersangkut di 'trafik jem' eskalator, saya nampak seorang makcik 'cleaner' turun tangga menongkah arus. Dalam ramai yang kelewatan macam saya tu, ada lah seorang ni, terlanggar makcik tersebut. Kuatlah agaknya, sehinggakan bekalan yang makcik bawa tercampak dan berterabur di tangga. Mangkuk tingkat, ada bekal nasi dan lauk. Mungkin makcik bangun awal pagi tadi, memasak untuk bekal sendiri dan anak-anak.

Saya di eskalator hanya dapat melihat makcik cuba menyelamatkan mana yang sempat dan melihat nasi dan lauk yang dipijak-pijak orang ramai, saya menangis.

.. sigh... apalah saya ni. Hormon barangkali.

Friday, March 02, 2007


Kerana cinta duri menjadi mawar
kerana cinta cuka menjelma anggur segar
Kerana cinta keuntungan menjadi mahkota penawar
Kerana cinta kemalangan menjelma keberuntungan
Kerana cinta rumah penjara tampak bagaikan kedai mawar
Kerana cinta tompokan debu kelihatan seperti taman
Kerana cinta api yang berkobar-kobar jadi cahaya yang menyenangkan
Kerana cinta syaitan berubah menjadi bidadari
Kerana cinta batu yang keras menjadi lembut bagaikan mentega
Kerana cinta duka menjadi riang gembira
Kerana cinta hantu berubah menjadi malaikat
Kerana cinta singa tak menakutkan seperti tikus
Kerana cinta sakit jadi sihat
Kerana cinta amarah berubah menjadi keramah-ramahan

~ Jalaludin Rumi (Sufist)

A friend texted me yesterday, ‘Can we talk? Now?’ or something to that effect. The message was soft and simple but the urgency behind it was deafening. And so I called him. He was heartbroken, the love of his life just decided that she wanted out. Perhaps she wanted more than what he could offer her – marriage, kids etc, and she wanted them asap. He couldn’t offer her anything of that sort yet and she was tired of waiting. The uncertainties in their relationship were perhaps too much for her to bear. And I don’t fault her for that. If my friend really does love her as much as he claims, then he knows that he does have options. He could either offer her the very thing that she wanted or wish her all the best and let go.

Love is a basket full of contradictions. It pains and delights, makes you weak and strong, laugh and cry, foolish and wise, complicated and simple - all bundled up.

I don’t think anyone ever decided to be in or out of love. I don’t think love is a choice. Pursuing your love is an act of choice and so is marriage. But love? I don’t think so. But can love really be pinned down, stripped bare and analysed proper? I don’t think so too.

I have read once how scientists (who really have nothing better to do with their research grants) studied love and deduced that love is simply a result of chemical reactions. The A matter in Mr Boy meets the B matter in Miss Girl and as a result, chemical AB aka ‘love’ is produced. Exothermic reaction i.e heat released from the combination. Nowhere in the reaction is romance involved.

Yamtuan accused me, this morning during breakfast that I married him for ‘physical’ reasons only – whatever that means. But a conversation such as that, after a night romp is easy to just overlook. But thinking back about that exchange, I worry a bit. Honestly, it makes me sound superficial. No. Wrong. Very.

I marry him because he is the best thing that ever happened to me. He may not be the best man there is, but he is the best for me. He is the missing piece of the huge puzzle that was my life. I don’t particularly care that he is not motivated by money, and I don’t mind it at all the fact that he isn’t refined. His moustache is not trimmed and styled. He can't sing for peanuts. But he rocks!

He makes me laugh when I am down, and he makes me see things from a different perspective, he provides balance in my tipsy world, he is the calm in my chaotic messy life. He listens when I talk and knows how to make me listen when he wants to talk.

I am not swept off my feet, I don’t crumble with a mere look from him, I don’t faint when he touches me, true. And I don’t hang on to his very word and memorise them like a mantra. I don’t worship the ground that he walks on and I don’t place him on an altar in that solitary temple in my heart. No altars, no temples. I don’t write songs for him (mwahaha.. no offence to Siti’s fans). No. Not that kind of love. No. I wont kill myself for him. But I will die for him if needs be (I hope never).

I love him for the simple person that he is. I am not blinded, I do see his flaws and I know well both his Mr Jekyl and Mr Hyde selves. And I can love them both (maybe one side less than the other).

Love or not, there are times however, more than I care to admit maybe, when I feel like throwing pinggan-mangkuk-periuk-belanga at him. There are times when perhaps carelessly I talk too highly about another man infront of Yamtuan, but hey, it is not as a comparison to him. Given the choice, I’ll vote for my simple Yamtuan, anytime, over and over again.

Once I remarked how lucky Marc Anthony must have felt when J.Lo said yes. Yamtuan replied, any man would feel the same when their lady said yes, J.Lo or not. In that sense, I am as J.Lo as any other girl. Okay what. Ood Lopez. I like.

Love doesn’t always equate to marriage. Who says you must switch off your love for someone simply because she has switched hers off? Must love be returned? Must you own the person as a sign of love returned? Is ownership part of the equation?

Sigh.. I do care a lot about this friend. I hope he finds enough love in his heart to let go of her. Let her find her happiness and her jodoh. And I hope he’ll find the strength within himself to heal and move on.


Sesudah demikian lama dicintai, sukarlah dilupakan.
Inti pengalaman, kepedihan; akar kerinduan keresahan...
Memang begitu banyak diperlukan kekuatan,
kepangkalan batin, rakit ditambatkan bara kenangan dikuatkan
Akhirnya, tak terduga, kekuatan membuak sendiri,
dan disedari, semua takkan sampai, ke dasar inti.
Tiada lagilah bezanya, sama ada hilangnya kemudian atau tenggelamnya sekarang.
Tiada juga bezanya , jika ia langsung tak datang atau tiba-tiba terkorban
Kepiluan yang berlanjut akhirnya, ditenterami keyakinan,
betapa dielak pun takdir tetap terbuka pintunya
bertanya: manusia, engkau ini sebenar-benarnya siapa..

~A. Samad Said (1985 )