Happy Birthday

I would love to get you one of these, all of which are your obsession:

Harry Potter series
Ritter Sport
Ixus 950IS

What? You have all those already?

Then, I will give you a shout: 

Happy birthday, Fique!

What is Meditative to You?

It is meditative to be in control.

Kamal and I burnt the midnight oil yesterday to watch a documentary on Ram Bahadur Bomjon's meditation. It is not the fact that he was his composed self sans any food, beverage, and movement that amazes us. It is his ability to be in control.

In Islam, the concept of meditation is practised as tafakur, during which the mind and soul are immersed in a contemplation, maintaning an open focus that eventually unfolds one's true nature.

One also meditates just by being conscious, just by being good.

Fourteen Years Since

Celebrating fourteen years of camaraderie at an iftar.

So.

So, after a two-year ban, blogger.com is again accessible in the ministry's main building. It might threaten friendship, particularly between avid bloggers, as we spend more time to blog now, but it could be the perfect meal-replacement at lunch hour, eh. Not.

So, I deleted my previous entry. All because of the word 'bleak'. It made no sense. Writing about the deleted entry makes no sense. Tomorrow, I shall go to work way earlier than today and I shall write here whether or not the formal surrounding could inspire me to write what I am supposed to write for an office publication. Hold on. How does the intention make sense with the deleted entry?

So, I will miss a Thursday with Anis and Haris because of the need to attend a translation workshop from Wednesday until Friday. Thank God, I have the weekend to spend with my family. By the way, we in the ministry were shocked to learn about a fellow colleague's passing. When he retired early this year, he cheerfully shared with us his retirement plan, which was to tend to his orchards. He exuded vibrance. Oh, show your loved ones that you care, chums. Appreciate their existence and particularly their company.

So, I had iftar alone tonight because Kamal was busy preparing for a training session tomorrow. I knew I would have the best of time no matter what. I found the handbag I wanted, at a great discount, too. I found an empty table for one in a packed restaurant. I found chicken cordon bleu. Then, when Kamal reached home, I found a yellow stain on his shirt caused by curry. Cute.

So, I look forward to meeting my chums for iftar tomorrow. In the e-mails we exchanged regarding the plan, one of them joked about the word 'paper'. Me, I kept on asking the same question, not realising I have asked exactly that particular question in the previous mail. My goodness, I was that absorbed in my office task. Chums keep me grounded.

So, I bought a special oil that Lola might be interested in. Ahem. No worry. Those who were concerned with my remark on baby oil in your friendster do not read my blog.

Life, so interesting.

Truth: The Truth

Iftar at California Pizza Kitchen, Suria KLCC. September 22, 2007. Another book to consume: Story-Walllah, a compilation of short fiction edited by Shyam Selvadurai.

After reading the introduction of Story-Wallah, I concluded among others that writing is an art of being truthful. Not only to one's experience, but also to one's surrounding. The little writer in me adores Iris Murdoch's approach to truth in her writings. She created it, believed it, and convinced others to believe it, too. Until her life became what she wrote.

Nevertheless, my point is not a call to hypocricy. Simply a way to write. In contrast with creating truth in writing, being truthful is about being your-true-self. You might experience pain, frustration, sadness, or anger, but you might not realise that the one experiencing the negativity is your physical shell. The truth is, your-true-self is not affected. Your-true-self remains divine.

Perpetual beauty is truth in all its glory. Being your-true-self. Mean it when you smile. Mean it when you kiss. Mean it when you love. Because when you mean it the way it should be, the smile is sweeter, the kiss more engaging, the love more passionate. I am writing this as a prayer that I would stay truthful in the most pleasant manner.

Mother, Daughter

Just lying down with my mother, sharing stories, smelling of orchid. I long for more such moments.

I feel for Nurin Jazlin's mother.

Escapade

I was away in Colmar Tropicale, Bukit Tinggi, for an office assignment. Three days of fine food and ace efficiency. Late nights, too. So, when the meeting was adjourned by 11:00 a.m. on Friday and everybody was allowed a half-day rest, I tagged Kamal along to MidValley as he needed to go to IT World. Me, I window-shopped. My new wish list has the Nine West new range in it.

I sacrificed the joy of having that handbag with a birthday present for my mother. Worth it. Kamal shared with me this mantra: I have everything that I want and I want everything that I have.

For that, and particularly for his birthday, which is a day after my mother's, I treated him with a dinner at Piccolo Mondo. Both of us loved their Pansotti Stuffed with Seafood in Spinach Cream Sauce. The Arabbiatta was good, too. Dessert was Knocked Up, a refreshing romantic comedy.

Happy, happy birthday to the Virgos in my life:

Mas, August 23.
Mak, September 6.
Kamal, September 7.
Angah, September 11.

Have a great weekend everybody. As great as ours would be. The pre-weekend escapade was a good start, eh.

I Love

I love what I am doing.

Hot Soup 'n' Bun

It was drizzling and both C&C reached home tired and famished.

Afterall, it was a manic Monday at work.

Once home though, it became a magical Monday,

celebrated at Hot Soup 'n' Bun,

our favourite stop for a simple yet divine dinner.

Camus's favourite consists of vermicelli in hot beef soup and chilled carrot 'o'.

Chech's varies.

Today, she savoured twist vegetable soup and barley drink, both hot.

C&C continue to have a magical Monday with the exciting array of television programmes.

Love, love, love the Rasa Sayang Hey promotion.

Oh, don't we secretly love Monday?

France 98

While scouring my old room in Rembau for a tote, I found a precious sketch book. Precious because my sketches during France 98 were inside the book. Bebeto Carlos was my favourite player then. Technically, I have forgotten why.

I sketched him and his fellow Brazilian teammates between games during Majlis Sukan Sekolah Kuala Lumpur Chess Open in Sekolah Menengah Cheras. I remember bumping into classmates from primary school, Marini, Faizal, Intan, and Fajriyah then. Oh, yes, Seri Puteri teams won a number of medals.

Other sketches were done in between homework and revision for Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia. Had I used the time consumed by sketching for studying, I would be one of the best students in my school, my mother believed. Heh.