Hear me whore

Being a woman isn't easy. You're told you have to be a partner to your man, to be the doting mother to your unborn children, to be a career woman breaking the glass ceiling, to be the toast of your neighbourhood with your weekend BBQs, to be the pillar of strength for your family, to be an emotional robot, to be immaculately groomed and polished and to be a model for your daughters/sisters/granddaughters/whatever else has a vagina.

It's not easy. I don't know how a lot of women out there can juggle a career, a family and keep up to the demands of society and are still stay sane.

If you're just a housewife, people tend to be condescending and think you're nothing more than a glorified babysitter. If you'e career woman with no children, well you're a waste of uterus. If you choose to be single and not get married, you're either a nazi feminist, really ugly or a lesbian.

You have to be this all-encompasing womanly product that is the result of a terrible mutation in the failed hybrid of feminism and traditional values.

I'm not sure how I should feel about this whole thing. I know where I personally stand. Yes yes, I want it all. A family and a career I can be proud of. That's how I was raised. Sorta.

My mom, who is a housewife btw, keeps telling me how important paper qualification is and how you can never be dependent on a man. And then of course she says, "Once you have children, maybe you should consider resigning so you can bring up your own children."

Now which am I supposed to be? High-flying career woman or a stay-at-home mom? Let's try analysing each option before I fall asleep.

High-flying career woman (HFCW)

1. Personal satisfaction - Nothing makes me happier than working. As much as I bitch about it sometimes (who doesn't?), I like working. I like earning my own money. I want to be a decision-maker in top management and I can do awkward victory dances in my own office when deals go through etc etc. I like networking. I like meeting new people. I like discussing things like the economy, the market, portfolios, businesses, future ventures and how pretty your skirt looks. And yes, I like office politics. Mostly because I like seeing people make a complete arse out of themselves. I find that highly entertaining.

2. I have goals - I want to be a brand name or at least build one. 'Nuff said.

3. School - A degree, professional qualification and a masters degree. Why spend money on that if all it's going to do is sit in my green folder and collect dust? I used brain cells to get them (well haven't gotten all of them yet but one may safely assume I shall have all in less than 2 years). I'm going to put them to good use. No, budgeting a household cashflow does not come under "good use".

4. Cos daddy didn't raise a housewife - my dad and grandfather keep telling me I'm more than a baby-making machine. I'm inclined to agree with them.

Stay-At-Home-Mom (SAHM)

1. You get to raise your children "properly" - By this I mean, dragging their arses out of bed, shoveling breakfast down their throats, yelling at them to hurry up or they'll miss the bus, clean up after them, try to tune out their "but MUUMMMYYY I want a PSP-DS-IPOD. Everyone has one!!!", send them for their 1001 after school activities, make dinner, do the clothes and try not to pass before actually reaching the bedroom. No wonder libidos plummet after kids come around.

And that's all I can think of.

So I guess I'll pop out babies, have a career and TRY to be the best mother I can.

Or maybe I should stop trying to write after 6 days of 7-8 hour classes. Because numbers can scramble your brain signals. Cos I really don't know what I'm talking about.

night world. dont make more babies plz. give your uterus a rest.

As I try to sleep

There are days when things don't make sense to me. Even words seem to deconstruct themselves and their meanings weigh heavily. I try to take things apart piece by piece and let them marinade in the sun while I try to understand why I do that.

Then of course there are days where everything speeds up and I don't have time to catch my breath before I'm bouncing off the walls again.

It gets tiring.

The nights where every sound is alien to me despite the fact that I've heard it echo in the house for the past 24 years. It keeps me up. My body stays tense, my imagination heightens and it usually spells another insomniac nightmare for me.

A few days of that then I get a couple nights of deep slumber. No dreams - good or bad. No waking up to the slightest of sounds or the biggest of booms. Just sweet, unadulterated sleep. Ones that rock you into gentle abysses of endless nights.

Then there are people during the day. I filter them. Those who yap annoyingly about religion and enlightenment are usually the ones who never make it into my personal bubble. No siree. I do not need my temporal lobe to be filled with your notions of how I should live my life according to your interpretation of holy scriptures and such. Strange how many of the religious think they're enlightened just because they've "found" God.

What is enlightenment anyway?

Finding truth? Figuring out where your place is in the world? Fulfilling your destiny? Surrendering yourself to a higher power? Making the most awesome creme brulee from scratch?

I don't know. Truthfully, I don't think I'll ever know. Not sure if I want to. I am content for now with the little understanding I have of the universe. I'm more concerned of my own sanity than spreading the gospel of deities.

God knows I'd rather be a jolly old English gentleman than a philosopher.

Freedom of Peach

Alright so everyone around Malaysia knows that the ex-Mufti of Perlis was arrested. The reason behind his arrest? JAIS, being the douchebags that they are, say he isn't qualified to talk about Islam in public or in private.

Also it was rather funny seeing how fast our PM said the Fed Govt had nothing to do with it. You're on your own, JAIS!

But this whole deal is a big deal. Over the past week, I've heard people who don't normally comment on things like this - muttering "freedom of speech". Of course everytime they do, I point out it's a double edged sword. You get to say whatever you want to say but the people who are against your views have a right too. It's to be used as and when it suits your purposes. Of course then they think about it and I don't usually stick around to hear their conclusions.

I haven't attended any of the lectures conducted by Dr Mohd Asri but I have heard good things coming from it. Of course you all know my take on religion so it doesn't really matter either way. The point is, you don't need an archaic body like JAIS to say who is or isn't qualified to talk. They have it in for pretty much everybody and are drowning in their own power.

They spend their time raiding nightclubs, looking for unmarried couples hiding in cupboards and chasing after lovers of Satan's piss. I suppose they think this will help better society but it comes off as oppressors of individual rights.

Moral police. Hah! My arse.

There weren't any moral police when Islam started and things were pretty bad then. Why the need now?

Get rid of JAIS. I need to get my drink on.

Let there be drunkedness

After i'm done with these stupid exams. Let me be a semi qualified accountant already for FARK's sake! I am extremely sick and tired of studying things i'll probably forget in a couple of months. But this is a necessary evil. Another support back up thing to help propel me to go jesus t rex land of infinite beer and sexy times on my own private winterland island.
Also today marks the first time someone correctly assumed i'm older than my 17 year old sister. It gets annoying when people mistake you for jailbait. Oh to be rid of these plump cheeks that are plaguing my adult life.

While October ends

I have a million things to do still.

I left my job a few days ago and while I was happy to do so, the reality of things settled in the next day. I still woke up at the same time I usually do on other days. I wanted to get ready then I realised I didn't have my uniform and all that other fun stuff.

Took a moment for me to go back to sleep.

I miss working. I feel so unproductive and eh well, bored. It's a good thing I'm preoccupied with an engagement (not mine, my oldest of friends) and had my hands deep in chicken last night. I need to do something other than just laze around.

Oh what's that? Study?

Yeah yeah, major studying starts on Monday. That's the whole reason why I took off so early or I'd still be in the office til December.

But it's good. I want to spend time with my family and friends before I leave. They need a full dose of my craziness to keep them company so that when they'll miss me, they'll giggle and not cry. Muahaha.

Yes, people miss me when I'm not there. It feels good to have people who like you enough to miss you.

Aphrodite's Curse I

My sister had been bugging me to watch P.S I Love You for ages. She had read the book and had forced it upon me but I didn't bother with it because it didn't sound like something I'd normally read. I had read enough of my mother's hidden Mills & Boons and Harlequin romance books to last me many lifetimes as a horny old spinster. Romance wasn't a genre I enjoyed reading mainly because the plots were always generic. Example :

1 - Scenario 1 - Macho, egoistical, misogynistic rich male falls in love with prudish, bookish, innocent virgin even though his original plan was to rob her off her dignity.

2 - Scenario 2 - Modern career woman swears of men after her boyfriend/fiance/husband cheats on her and then falls in love with her brother's best friend or her ex's best friend or her dog's trainer.

Plots don't usually differ from those two scenarios so meh.

In a fit of boredom, I watched P.S. I Love You. And I hate it.

I hate it because it left me emotionally confused. Damned movie. I was crying one minute, laughing the next, sympathising a few seconds later and this cycle went on and on and on and fucking on.

I hate it because I liked it but I'll be damned if I watch it again.

It's interesting because you know what? You can love a person too much and yes, it is detrimental to your health because what happens to you if that person leaves you? Willingly or other wise. I could see myself doing what Holly did and I suppose to an extent it scares me.

But screw that. I'll take that chance.

So for now, I'll sleep on it and pray to which ever God chooses to tune in to my solemn promises.

I bet you've had a hard time walking into a room full of people on your own, right? Yeah. I know that. I know what it is not to feel like you're in the room until he looks at you or touches your hand or even makes a joke at your expense, just to let everyone know... you're with him. You're his.

Who's gonna run this ship?

You guys! I've got 10 more days left at work. And 98 days before I leave Malaysia. Don't ask how many days til my exams.

Lady luck must be likin' me now because I managed to buy business class seats at economy prices. Plus 30 kilos worth of luggage. Okay probably around 40+ since my brother has the same amount and we all know I'll be carrying more than him.

Hey I've got to bring my shoes, books, pretty-fying stuff, possibly food to declare as awesomeness at immigration and other awesome things.

My mother has made it her personal mission to mention me leaving to every single open house we go to. Like I'm abandoning the family on purpose and am now jetting off to Mars to marry a Venetian opera singer. What is it with mothers and the dramatics?! It's only 8 hours away. And she'll have 3 other daughters to cluck over. Cluck cluck.

Which reminds me.

My youngest sister, though normally a brat, can be rather sweet-natured at times and pleasantly smart for her age. She leaves me lovely little notes around the house or shoved into my face during dinner. They usually have "AMY LOVE KAKAK SHASHA" written on them with hearts and other cutesy floating around. Then she'll ask me to explain evolution again.

Then the older hormonal teen insists on sitting next to me in the car and steals one of the ipod's bud. She confides more and more. I am torn between lecturing her about things she should do and telling her all the shenanigans I used to pull when I was her age. I miss being 17 sometimes.

The younger hormonal teen is an enigma to me. Mostly because as much as she looks like the taller version of me, that's where our similarities end. She acts out to get attention. Doesn't matter if it's good or bad, just as long as you look at her and yell DON'T DO THAT YOU NUMBNUTS!

I keep reminding myself that they'll be different when I come back for holidays. That all they will remember me as is in this last three months I have with them. I suppose if I was honest with myself, I will miss them dreadfully. Isn't that the problem with kids from big families? Once you cut the cord, the silence is deafening even though it is hella welcoming. Even now, when they go out and I'm at home, I appreciate the time alone but after awhile I start wishing Amy was begging me for a bedtime story or that Sara was complaining about our parents or yelling after Aleena for parading around her room with shoes I haven't had the chance to use yet.

I just hope that whatever glimmer of sisterly wisdom I have tried to share with them over the years, does them some good. That they'll see the phases they're going through right now - as confusing and mind-numbing as they may seem now- will come to pass. And they have my MSN id/ facebook/ myspazz thingamajiggas so they know where to contact me.

Time to pass the baton on and to find myself while they figure out how painful 4 inch heels can be on a drunken night at the places they'll sneak out to eventually. I expect nothing less from girls who share the same genes as I do. Make me proud girls, make me proud.