Apparently I'm "Wild Sexy".

You Are Wild Sexy

You are sexy because you are always up for a fun fling. You're sexually open and assertive. You know what you want, and you're going to get it. You are a very physically attractive person. You take care of your body. You are attracted to other gorgeous people - and you don't care if that's shallow. You don't have many sexual hang ups or issues. You simply enjoy sex. You are adventurous and open to new experiences. You experiment freely.

What's Sexy About Your Name?

Hmmmm

Your Dress Says You're Classically Stylish

Your Personal Style: Modern and simple. You like clothes to accentuate who you are, not overwhelm you. Your Ideal Wedding: A small ceremony at an old church with a beautiful flower garden Your Philosophy on Marriage: You can have a deep commitment without marriage. It's only a piece of paper. Your Perfect Marriage: Simply loving each other a little more every day

The Wedding Dress Test

Your Little Black Dress Says You're Cosmopolitan

You are elegant, classy, and sophisticated. You know how to turn heads when you enter a room... and then keep people interested with your witty banter. Your style is classic, tailored, and flawless. You don't fall for silly fashion trends. If you were a shoe, you would be: Classic black pumps

The Little Black Dress Test

UGH!

Why does my family treat me like I'm a high school kid?? I'm a 25-year-old working woman forgodsakes!!

Sigh.

Why do girls want the Bad Boys?

I've been pondering over what to write lately, every single time I'd log into my blog but then stare at the screen for about half an hour, before finally calling it quits and closing the window. I suppose I'm uninspired at the moment...I want to write about something, but what? So I've decided to try the trick of just writing the first thought that comes to mind, not exactly focusing on anything in particular.

Last weekend, I was at home because I was down with a terribly annoying sinus problem (something along the lines of not being able to breathe at all, or sounding like I'm snoring when I'm actually wide awake) with Yasir watching the Idiot Box. This old teenage movie was on - you know, one of those fluffy and predictable flicks where there's always a bitchy Miss Popular, a goodlooking jock who rules the school, a geek who's invisible but turns into a likeable Miss It and of course the ever important Prom Night, where Usher magically appears spinning on the decks...yada yada yada. This movie is titled Whatever It Takes (2000) and isn't a particularly memorable teenage flick, but I remember having watched it, god knows when exactly, or why. I have to say Shane West looks rather appealing in this, god bless his soul (this is before he turned into Boy-Of-My-Dreams in A Walk To Remember), albeit a little on the scrawny side, but he sure fixed that didn't he? Anyway, so in a nutshell, Ryan Woodman (aka Shane West) is trying to get to know Miss Thang Ashley (played by Jodi Lyn O'Keefe - who btw is also Miss-I'm-Evil-But-Very-Popular in a few other teenage movies, google it up if you're curious) and enlists the help of jock/jerk Chris Campbell (played by James Franco - not bad, but not my type). So Chris tells Ryan that if he wants to get Ashley's attention, he should treat her badly. This includes insulting her hair, breath, saying her butt looks fat in a particular pair of jeans.

Now, while all this may sound like complete garbage, Chris has a point. Of course, which girl would love hearing that her breath smells like rotten fish, but I remember at one point in my life, guys who kept me guessing drove me crazy. Everyone knows that girls tend to go for guys who treat them badly at SOME point in their life. Nobody wants the good guy, who calls you at a predictable time everyday, buys you chocolates, lays out a handkerchief so you wouldn't have to step on that puddle. At this warped stage in our lives, we want a guy who doesn't call when he says he will, sees you at a party but acts like you don't exist and talks to other girls, swears like a sailor, even flirts with other girls deliberately in front of you. These guys used to drive us CRAZY. We'd dissect their behaviour painstakingly bit by bit, daydream about the moment they'd pick up the phone and ACTUALLY call us, then dissect that phone conversation to see if he gave us any signs that he was remotely interested in us. We dream of taming them into good (well, sort of) boyfriends, settling down and having their babies.

Almost every girl I know has somehow obsessed over a guy who treated them like shit.

All I can say is, boy AM I GLAD that phase of my life is over. O-V-E-R. To hell with mind games, a man to me is someone who knows what he wants and goes for it. He'll show that he's interested, and treat you with respect because he knows that a woman like you deserves nothing but respect. He'll bring you out, and he will love spending time with you, and compliment you on how beautiful you look. He'll plan romantic surprises for you because he knows you're worth all that trouble, and when the time is right, he'll whisper in your ear that he loves you and he feels like the luckiest man in the world to be with you. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what separates the men from the boys.

Sadly, as we speak, there are millions of girls tossing and turning at night, obsessing over that one jerk who doesn't even make the initiative to call when he says he will, because he's not even thinking about the girl in the first place. I guess I was once one of them - and I'll never understand why I even got myself into those situations! I suppose every girl used to want the 'bad boys', for some strange, unexplainable reason. To these girls, I hope you'll see the light very, very soon. It's just not worth it. Boy, am I glad I can now step back and laugh at how stupid it all was.

I suppose it's not so bad after all, being a 25-year-old with some wisdom, eh?

Firdie

Posts about makeup and fashion bore some people, so I won't stick to only writing about that. I find that delving into the thoughts, emotions and personal life (no matter how hilariously petty) of some people seem to be much more satisfying than going through a couple of beauty or fashion posts. So I'll make it a personal mission of mine to write something worth reading at least once a week, hopefully.

Last Sunday morning, Yasir's phone beeped and we received a message from my friend saying "Firdie passed away last night in a car accident. Al-Fatihah". I was shocked. I thought it was a sick, sick joke. I didn't know Firdie that well, but we've hung out on a couple of occassions (he was a friend of my close friend, Dina - she called him Firdie, while some called him IQ) and I had seen him just two weeks before at a friend's wedding. So I called Shamaine for an explanation and she told me he was on the way home in the wee hours of the morning and was sitting in the passenger seat. He wasn't even driving - his uncle was at the wheel when the left side of their car slammed into a lorry. Both his uncle and aunt escaped with minor injuries...he broke his neck and died on the way to the hospital. It was a very, very tragic death.

That whole Sunday, I felt this weird air around me...I was affected by Firdie's death, haunted by it even. It stayed with me every second of the day, even the day after..till now. I remember telling him that because of him, Yasir and I met each other. It was his 24th birthday, during February this year, when I went to Palacio to celebrate with Dina and his other close girlfriends. That's when I met Yasir. And I jokingly used to tell Firdie if it weren't for him, Yasir and I would never have met. I'd still like to think it's true. I didn't know him really well, but he always had this soft spot in my heart for being our 'cupid'.

Firdie was the sort of guy you didn't have to be close to to know he had a good heart. He always had a cheeky smile on his face, and was friendly and easygoing. He just got along with everybody. His close friends knew him as someone who was a fiercely loyal friend and dependable. You didn't have to worry about him sticking up for you when you needed him to - this was someone who had your back before you even asked for his help.

Because he was such a good friend, it wasn't a surprise that he had A LOT of friends. I suppose people don't know how to deal with their grief - they find comfort in writing on his facebook wall, putting down what they wish Firdie would have known before he passed away. His wall is now filled with comments on how he'll be missed, how he was a gem of a friend. I've realised now that life should not to be taken forgranted and you should always appreciate even the littlest of things. I just wish Firdie and I could have hung out more, and that he knew that I'll forever see him as my Cupid.

Rest in peace, Firdie. Al-Fatihah.

If you heart Ashley Olsen's eye makeup like I do...

...then check out Chanel's eye liner - Le Crayon Yeux in Brun-Cuirve from their Spring Makeup 2009 line, Bohemian Fantasy (inspired by gypsy dresses), which will be out in January 2009. This eyeliner is a bronzy, sexy option from your usual black - as Rachel Zoe would say, "I dieeeeee". I'm wearing it to the office now as we speak, and am yet to try it with bronze, gold eyeshadow, which I will play around with, very soon. Be sure to check out Vendetta from this same line - it's a vampy and rich dark purple nail polish which looks gorgeous with anything. Wear it with your biggest, flashiest rings. Love, love, love!

sloppy kisses,
`Aainaa

Polyvore is more fun than Poly pocket

Behold my Polyvore creations! There's something so satisfying about putting together pieces I know I can either never find here or ever afford. Sad, but this will do in the meantime. Be sure to scroll!

Find me on Polyvore


p/s: They're not terribly creative, but I was in a hurry because The Boyfriend was downstairs waiting in the car. Sorry sayang!

This is a happy post #5

...at least I think it's number 5? I haven't done this in a while, so it's about time. Also because I'm still in the office at 8pm because I'm waiting for The Boyfriend to pick me up, and he's in a late discussion for the billionth time. God, I'm so hungry. Anyway, these make me happy just thinking about them even when I'm stuck in my office and craving fattening food:

- Mamee, because I have been snacking on them ever since I can remember. If someone who works in Mamee (although I doubt you can actually work IN Mamee) reads this post, do send me free packets, you will change my life.

- Watching people walking their dogs. I once saw a man walk his cat, best moment of my life! You wait, I'll train my cat to walk with a leash one day!

- Free stuff at events. C'mon, who does not love these?

- My datuk asking me why I have to go to work every morning when I salam him, as if I have a choice. It's very cute and he makes me laugh.

- Bridal magazines. I once went through five magazines in one sitting.

- Souvenir shops at the end of a tour. I always get excited and feel the strong urge to buy something just for the sake of it, even if it's a dorky looking pen I would never put on my office table.

- Elaborate looking table decorations. Fav - the girly-looking tea parties in the garden, with pink roses as a centerpiece, pink napkins, candles, petals, pretty china, colourful cupcakes and cake, women in flowery dresses, perfectly coiffed hair, pearls.

- This vintage wedding I once read about in a magazine. The bride wore a simple, antique lace dress, her husband in a vintage-looking tux, bridesmaids in vintage flowery dresses and the boys in shirts and Raybans. Very shabby chic - everything was beautifully done, the epitome of simple and sweet. Ugh, wish I brought the mag back with me! :(

- My zebra print desktop wallpaper. At least now I don't have to stare at the boring blue screen which just makes me THAT more excited to be at work.

- When The Boyfriend finally finishes his discussion and tells me he's on the way. Ughhhh

sloppy kissies xxx
`Aainaa

Crap.

It costs almost 9k to go to New York from here.

New York, New York

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it - new york, new york
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - new york, new york

I wanna wake up in a city, that doesn't sleep
And find Im king of the hill - top of the heap

These little town blues, are melting away
Ill make a brand new start of it - in old new york
If I can make it there, Ill make it anywhere
Its up to you - new york, new york

New york, new york
I want to wake up in a city, that never sleeps
And find I'm a number one top of the list, king of the hill
A number one

These little town blues, are melting away
Im gonna make a brand new start of it - in old new york
And if I can make it there, Im gonna make it anywhere

It's up to you - new york new york

A wedding portait

I loved this story so much, I retyped it again just for you guys to read - it's taken from a bridal magazine, told from a groom's side. For maximum tear-jerker effect, go HERE wait till it's fully loaded and you've got the perfect background music to this article. Enjoy :)

Like many betrothed couples, my fiancee, Rachel and I got completely wrapped up in the wedding-planning process during our nine-month engagement. We debated everything, and there were moments when we were convinced the napkin colour would make or break the whole celebration. The choice we struggled with most was where to hold the event. We are not the greatest decision makers – it took us eight months to choose a china pattern – but we were both sure of one thing : We wanted to have an outdoor wedding in a quaint New England setting. Another big decision – choosing who would officiate- was such a no-brainer that I took its importance forgranted. You see, my father is a rabbi. Growing up, weddings and funerals were to me what childbirth was to a Huxtable; just another day at the office. As with any parent’s profession, it comes with its own drawbacks and perks. However, not being able to snooze during a sermon was a small price to pay for having a father who could perform my wedding ceremony. Friends expressed envy over my parental lottery, but I hardly gave the notion a second thought. Who has time for sentiment when there are chicken dishes to ponder?

The morning of my big day, tensions soared due to early rain showers and tardy hairdressers. As the wedding party lined up for the processional, all of our worries and excitement came to a crescendo. But when Rachel and I arrived to face my father under the huppa, all of our stresses disappeared. Just like that, I was transported to the backseat of my family’s ’78 Chevy with no worries about how we would reach our destination – Dad was at the wheel, cool as a cucumber, tossing me knowing glances. As my father welcomed everyone, the sun shone and he instantly transformed an event on a synagogue patio into an intimate outdoor New England wedding.

He intertwined traditional wedding blessings with personal stories of how I was always “the life of the party”, even at an early age; he captured Rachel’s essence when describing her ability to bring a smile to the face of even the crankiest of her younger cousins. He fought back tears recounting how Rachel and I had met at camp twelve years earlier, and then he lost the fight as he passed on my grandmother’s wish for a happy life together. Here was the man who has run alongside me, holding onto the banana seat, as I learned to ride my first bicycle. And just as he has then, he let go and sent me off with the encouragement and love that only a parent can. The literal translation of the Hebrew word rabbi is “teacher.” My father has always been my teacher, and that day his lesson was clear: Weddings are about love and family. When those elements are present, everything else just falls into place.

Hang on...

Alright, this post is regarding my last post about double standards in relationships. And before any of you think Yasir put me up to this, he didn't..it's 100% from me. I am aware that some of you may read the post and think I'm venting my frustrations about my boyfriend. Well, I wasn't. I know a lot of people with psycho jealous boyfriends and Yasir doesn't belong in that category. He's so cool he doesn't need to take a chill pill in my book. So before rumours start spreading around like wildfire, I thought it's only fair to him that I clarify things - and for future reference there will be some posts in my blog that are general and not refering to my personal life. They're simply issues I want to address (whether seriously or for fun). Hope I've set the record straight! :)

`Aainaa

You can but I cannot meh?

Boys and girls, today I'd like to talk about double standards in relationships. This phenomena may be happening to you right now, at this very instant, right this second as you twirl that strand of hair between your fingers and stare at this blog with a "Huh?" look on your face. Sure I may sound like I'm being dramatic, and maybe I am. But have you ever stopped to wonder if you're a victim of DSIYR?

- Is it okay for your boyfriend to go out with his female colleagues for lunch, but when you go out with your male workmates, your boyfriend thinks they're taking you out to eat because they're hatching an evil plan to get into your pants?

- Do you let your boyfriend exchange casual sexual banter with other girls because you know it's for fun and you trust him, but when you do the same thing your boyfriend gets into a hissy fit (yes, guys can throw bitch fits - they just get all quiet and their jaw starts twitching) and he thinks your male friend just wants to get into your pants?

- Do you check out other girls with your boyfriend (i.e You go "Check out the funbags on that chick!" while you're hanging out at Coffee Bean and your boyfriend agrees), but when you point out a cute guy he gets into a hissy fit (again) and he thinks YOU want to get into EyeCandy boy's pants?

- Does he think any male that even talks to you just wants to get into your pants?

If you have said yes to any of the above, then you are, indeed, a victim. Ladies, check him the next time he decides to go all crazy on you. Men, if you're reading this, please acknowledge how cool your girlfriend is and take a chill pill.

And they say we women are unreasonable. Tsk.

Standing up for my sisters,
`Aainaa

Beauty Beauty Beauty

Just for fun, here are random beauty tips I've learned after only a month of working in the land of beauty:

Rubbing strawberries on your pearly whites help whiten them. But be sure to brush afterwards, unless you think cavities are a good look.

Wind is actually bad for your hair - strands of hair rubbing together will cause cuticle damage, so if you're in a windy place, tie your hair up. Just make sure you use soft ties, because rubberbands can break hair.

Don't rub your hair vigorously with a towel after washing your hair, this causes the dreaded frizz.

Dab some creamy concealer on your eyelids before putting on eyeshadow. The colour will pop, and it lasts longer.

If your eyeliner pencil is crumbling, store it in the freezer for 15 minutes and voila - it's good to go!

Alright, that's about it for now. Hope these tips made your day more beautiful! Have a beautiful day everyone! I'm going to go watch Beauty and The Beast!


Blowing you beautiful kisses,
`Aainaa

Hari Raya

I've been a very bad girl.

I know I pinkie swore in my previous blog that I would tell you about my new job, but between the flurry of writing about how not to clump your lashes with mascara (primer is good people!) and frantically grouping christmas makeup gift baskets into colour code for our christmas section, I have abandoned this blog and am sad to see cobwebs building up around it. If only I had internet access at home, then I would update it every weekend, but now I'm only able to write when I've actually got time to take a breather. There's a part of me that just feels like writing and writing and expressing myself, but then there's another part of me...that just wants to sleep after work, if I'm not buying something or looking at shoes.

So, Hari Raya has come...and err..not really gone because openhouses are only just starting, yay! As I'm typing this, I'm actually wearing my kebaya top with jeans because the big boss of this company is having an openhouse after work. I know some people find it annoying how people wear kebaya with jeans in an attempt to make it look modern, but I think mine actually looks pretty alright. No, seriously. Anyway, Raya has been good so far, but I'm still recuperating from all that rendang and lemang. By the fourth day, I couldn't even lay my eyes on any Malay food - I was screaming for good 'ol Italian pizza (screaming at The Boyfriend to order Domino's, in particular). And you know what the best thing is? I still get duit raya. My friends are amazed by this, but I'm happy because I've got really generous relatives. Just as long as I don't have any obvious grey hairs or deep crow's feet, I think I can still be a receiver of money for a few years to come. My sister is 27 forgodsakes and she still gets duit raya! So if any of my relatives are reading this and you were so kind enough to donate to the `Aainaa Charity for Petrol Money, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I was having a conversation with my sister (or maybe I should call it very brief chit chat while we were getting ready in front of the mirror because we don't really have 'conversations' per se - and it's usually one-sided) about how Hari Raya isn't that exciting anymore when you're an adult UNLESS: a) You just got married so you're ecstatic to be celebrating Raya as husband and wife, or b) You just gave birth to your first baby. I don't mean 'just' as in a few minutes before raya, I meant the baby has to be at least a few months old, obviously. You wouldn't want to spend raya in the hospital with leaking, sore boobs, no sirree.

Another thought that ran through my mind (I use the term 'ran' loosely, maybe it was more of 'flew') was when the heck am I supposed to start giving duit raya. I mean, I'm working - does that mean I automatically have to shove my money in other kids' hands? I know I should start sometime soon, but aren't there boxes you need to be able to tick, or requirements you need to meet in order to be eligible to give out money like candy? I know, I know, generosity comes from the heart...you either give or you don't if you're a stingy son-of-a-bitch. I unfortunately fall in between being a giver and a tight arse. I WISH I had money to give. Insya-Allah, by the next time Raya rolls around I'll be giving out those ang pows.

I'd have to say that the best part about this Hari Raya is that everyone is home and we're all together - this includes my weird cousin Kak Sheena, who is back from Germany. I haven't seen her for yonks, so it feels good that all the crazy cousins/sisters are back together. Plus I got to spend my first raya with Yasir, who had a shit Raya morning when I was throwing one of my diva tantrums but then forgave me when I felt embarassed and wished him Maaf Zahir dan Batin (convenient, eh?)

Time for pics!




Selamat Hari Raya, everyone.

sloppy lemang ketupat raya kisses,
`Aainaa

Smashin' Fashion

Thanks for the invisible tag Maine. Hehe

1. Job:
I'm the EA at Female magazine. Concentrating on the beauty department, and am hoping to turn into a full-fledged Beauty Writer, so my sad pay will go up. Yesterday I attended a hair show, where I had to watch models' hair cut on stage. Not very interesting. Interesting bit - getting free beauty products. Here's to more and more to come, hopefully.

2. Best Sartorial advice from my parents:
Errr...I'll have to think about that one for a bit.

3. Style icons:
I'm sorry, but Kate Moss looks effortlessly stylish in ANY goddamn thing she wears.

4. Describe your personal style:
Very random. I like a whole mix of things - I stay away from being too colour-coordinated, that look is awful. I like tomboyish pieces mixed with feminine ones; a schoolboy blazer paired with a slinky top and chunky heels, slouchy i-woke-up-wearing-this tops, NOTHING tarty it hurts my eyes *PUKE. Messy sex hair. Goth black on black, not the pierced-eyebrow-bad-hair-dye types, but the black-lace-bright-red lipstick- and-killer-heels ones. I like the whole quirky, vintage look - I wear my grandma's old leather handbags and my mom's old stuff. I like trying to make weird things work; found this old, floral blouse which could easily look grandma if worn wrong and I'm determined to make it look good, DAMNIT.

5. I build my daily look around:
The activity I'll be doing. What look I feel like channeling that day.

6. Personal style quirk:
I love my huge rings. I've got to have my eyeliner 99.9% of the time.

7. Favorite designers:
Marc Jacobs, Chanel. I'm not a designer girl yet, but one day i'll be haha.

8. Most cherished item:
My watches.

9.I feel best wearing?
Dresses. Dresses to parties, dresses to have lunch. Not too structured dresses, breezy dresses are good.

10.The first thing I look at in another Sartorialist’s outfit …
Shoes.

11.I always break this fashion rule.
Hmmm. Too much eyeliner? Sometimes I can't be bothered to iron my clothes. Haha, sorry Maine!

12.I never break this fashion rule.
I always shave my armpits when I wear anything sleeveless - thanks Maine

13.Never caught wearing?
Anything in-your-face slutty. Slip on heels, with the kitten heel that A LOT of Malaysians love to wear. SHUDDER

14.Dress to impress who?
Myself, my man and other women who appreciate well-dressed women.

15.Favorite stores?
God, I miss the stores in Melbourne soooo much. ALL THE STORES IN MELBOURNE, ALL OF 'EM!

16.Your next “must have” purchase?
Is there really a must have purchase? Somehow, I seem to find anything cute a must have. I have my eye on another maxi dress as of now. This will change once I buy it.

17.I only buy __________ in Europe.
H&M because they don't have it here.

18.I splurge on…..
Clothes,shoes, food.Cat food every two weeks. Petrol. Is that irrelevant?

19.Favorite item of clothing
My jeans. My red chunky heels which surprisingly go with a lot of things in my wardrobe.

20.Most stylish city (Milan, Paris, London, New York, other)
New York and Melbourne. The girls in Melbourne really dress to impress. Fab fab fab

21.When I was high school I wore?
Please, don't make me go there!

22.Sports?
And how is this a fashion question? I told my boyfriend that I would start doing sports if he bought me those cute, gym outfits. Then only will I consider it.

23.Favorite fashion magazine?
Shop till you drop. Nylon.

24.Favorite vacation spot?
London.

25.Favorite neighborhood restaurant?
Suzi's Corner, Secret Recipe, Delicious, CPK.

Quickie?

I feel très guilty about not updating my blog lately, I've probably lost any readers I had because they are probably fed up of clicking on my url and then seeing the same posts again and again - I don't blame them one bit. But with a whirlwind of events happening, I haven't exactly had the time to sit down and write properly, and I still don't have the time, so that's why this one will be a quickie post. Forgive me, my darlings, if I could show you my puppy dog eyes right now I would.

Alright, where should I start? It would only seem appropriate to talk about my new job, because that's the only thing I feel like writing about. I don't necessarily like writing about anything job-related on a public blog, because we all know that could be potentially disasterous, but this is mostly me adjusting to a new office environment and bla bla blah so I think that should be okay. So. I am freezing my arse off, where I'm sitting. I mean, compared to the sad excuse of an aircond I used to have in my old office, this one's blowing air straight from Antartica. Note to self : Find fluffy but stylish cardigan that goes with everything. I knew I should've brought back some of my jackets from Melbourne! Ugh. As I'm typing this, my fingers are turning blue black. Fine, I'm exaggerating, but I swear my fingernails look pale. Anywhoodle, if estrogen had a smell, then this place is reeking of it. The whole section of the office that I'm sitting in (which is the main section) hosts Female, Marie Claire, Seventeen, NuYou and this other travel mag, so 99.9% of us are women - I say 99.9 percent because there's one guy who classifies as female more than male - he has the cutest desk in the office, complete with pink table mat and colourful, scattered lollies. Then there's the other section which I don't really get to see - where Glam, Men's Health, EH are all at. That section's not so freezing.

Let's cut to the chase. I'm currently working on a few beauty columns, a far cry from writing about CARS. It's funny how I've gone from one end of the magazine spectrum to the other end, isn't it? There's a vast difference, obviously, from writing about the handling of a MINI to bronzers which help you achieve Hayden Panettiere's golden glow. I'm still getting into the groove of things of course, but I'm fairly optimistic :) One thing's for sure - I spend hours and hours doing research, because unless I'm a professional makeup artist, I've got to be sure I'm dispensing correct advise.

Crap, gotta go. Pinkie swear I'll continue this blog soon!

xoxoxxxoo

Corporate or creative?

This post may turn out to be shitty because I'm in such a rush (my cousins and I are taking turns to use one laptop), but I've got something to vent about and wild horses can't stop me! I just wish I had my laptop with me the second I needed to furiously type away, because a bit of my angst has faded, but here goes anyways. So, two days ago, I had to attend a written test for Petronas, for a Senior Writer position. And here's the thing - my heart wasn't in it. My mother had been pestering me about it for weeks before, with her Aainaa-have-you-sent-your-resumes and her my-friend's-son-is-working-in-Petronas-and-he-enjoys-it-SOOOO-MUCH!" Yes, I know it's Petronas, yes I know it's an incredible opportunity, yes I know the benefits are AMAZING. But it's CORPORATE WRITING. I'm not saying I may not be interested in corporate writing at all, but at the moment there are creative things I want to do, things I'm passionate about. I have always felt that a person is successful when they're doing something they LOVE doing and they excel at doing it.

So on the morning of the alleged 'written test' day, I woke up with this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I got out of bed, and decided to tell my mother one last time that I really didn't feel like going. So I did. And I got yelled at. I then proceeded to find something 'corporate-ish' to wear and I couldn't find my black, high-waisted pencil skirt. Crap. Rummaged and rummaged, finally decided to wear my sister's black work pants and blazer. Which was fine, if it wasn't for the fact that the pants were too short. I swear, when i sat down, the hem of the trousers almost came up to my knees. So, that was bad enough for me. You see, when I hate what I'm wearing, it affects my mood. If my shoes don't go with my outfit, I start getting foul mouthed and PMS-like, I can't help it. 

Rushed to KLCC, got to the Petronas towers, and realised I wasn't sure which bloody tower my written test was in. Called The Boyfriend, he tells me it's tower 2, took the visitor's pass, scanned my handbag for bombs, took the lift to level 45, got out and changed lifts (they have lifts which only operate for odd floored levels) to get to level 69. Yes, I found it a little humourous when I first found out that my written test was to be held at level 69. Anyway. Got out from the lift at said level....and lo and behold, i was facing an empty office floor. Great. Called The Boyfriend again, he checks my e-mail and tells me sorry, it's at tower 1. I suppressed the urge to scream at him because I knew it was my fault for not double checking in the first place. So rushed into the lift to get to level 45, got out, changed lifts to ground floor, gave back visitor's pass, practically ran to tower 1's reception counter, got the right visitor's pass, scanned handbag for bombs, took lift to level 45, changed lift at level 45...and FINALLY made it to level 69. Apologised profusely to the human resource guy, breathlessly explaining the mess up, all the while hoping he wouldn't notice my short pants which came up to my ankles. He then led me to a room with a single laptop on the table, and a piece of paper which had the essay topics of what I could choose to write about. Part 1 required me to write an essay of not less than 800 words, and part 2 was a sub-editing test, where I had to basically, edit. He then tells me I had an hour and a half to do both, and proceeded to leave the room. I took a deep breath and stared at the essay topics.

Crude gas and oil. Right. 

The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on me. There I was, with my ankle-pants, staring at essay topics regarding crude oil. I stared at the paper and it stared back at me. I stared at the laptop screen. I stared back again at the paper. I started getting angry and frustrated. What was I doing there? I didn't want to BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. I started wishing I had a brown paper bag to breathe into, but I didn't. I attempted to write something, but by the time I got to 200 words, I had ran out of things to say about crude oil. I knew I had to get out of there. So I got up and told human resource guy I was leaving. He seemed confused, but I left before he could say anything. Got into the lift, got out at level 45, called The Boyfriend and started sputtering and half-yelling about why I was even THERE in the first place, ignoring curious stares from corporate people. 

I was angry. I was annoyed that I was forced to even be there. But most of all, I was sad.

I was sad because my mother had pushed me to apply for a corporate job when clearly, I had gotten a new job which I might actually enjoy doing, a job which allowed me to express my creativity. I know she wants what's best for me, she's my mother - but I was sad that she didn't trust me in making my own career choices. I was sad that she didn't hear me out when I told her, exasperatedly, that corporate writing wasn't exactly what I wanted to do at the moment.  Most of all, I was really, really, sad that my own mother wouldn't listen to me when I tried talking to her, that she raised her voice when I said I really didn't want to do this. Did she seem happy for me when I first told her I got a job at BluInc? Nope. 

I still feel sad as I'm typing this. Will she ever listen?

Sigh.

No internet. Crap.

So in case any of you are wondering why I haven't updated my blog lately, it's because I'm not working till the 2nd of September, so my internet access is pretty much zilch. Don't ask me why I don't have internet at home, my house is weird that way. Plus I don't have a decent laptop and my house phone number is kindaaaaa blacklisted. Har Har. I'm now at my neighbour's house as we speak - desperate times call for desperate measures. I am totally feeling weirded out right now that I'm unable to vent my feelings and type away whenever I feel like it. Ugh. Btw, YES I'VE GOT A NEW JOB, and those of you who feel like they have to imitate me in a high pitched voice while they're drunk can feel free to do so. I believe that's the only time they feel like they're being clever *smiles sweetly*

Anywhoo, I'll be back when I can find the time (and a laptop with internet connection, most importantly). Check back from time to time, if you will. I've got so much to vent, I'm sure I'll cave in someday and might desperately seek out the nearest cyber cafe *gasp*. Till later, my luverlies.


Sloppiest kisses yet xoxoxo

Short and certainly sweet.

This is a big congratulations to my gal pal Shamaine Othman, whose script (Just Married) was brought to life by last night's play at the Short & Sweet festival, held in KLPac. I never knew eating one's boogers could be so fabulous. Congratulations, my darling, so proud.

Bigger things to come from her, people, you just wait! ;)

Fashion orgasm

If I could shop anywhere, it would be HERE (click away please). These clothes are to die for.

Some of my favs:

*Pictures courtesy of Nasty Gal Vintage.


Life is unfair.

:(

Tidbits.

If you could come back as a dress, what would it be? Jennifer Lopez's 'almost naked' green dress at some award.

If you could come back as a model, who would you be?Miranda Kerr. She's gorgeous!

What’s your favorite color? Black and white. Red.

What’s your favorite junk food? Super rings. Pods. Butterfingers. Reese's peanut butter cups. Hello Panda.

What are you most vain about? Face. My daily outfits.

What are you most shy about? Going naked in public. I'm sure a lot of people would feel the same.

If you could have somebody else’s body, whose would it be? It's a toss between Jessica Alba or Cameron Diaz, but I'm leaning more towards Cameron's legs.

Who are your fantasy dinner-party guests? Cameron Diaz, Celine Dion (she's hilarious), Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall, Oprah Winfrey, Justin Timberlake, Josh Hartnett (just because he's sexy), Jessica Biel (so she and Cameron can have entertaining cat fights).

Where is your favorite place to have a drink? Coffee Bean at Pavillion or Starbucks at GE Mall.

Underwear of choice? lace thongs and yes I wear g-strings, so sue me!

Last book you read? Secrets of the Millionaire Mind. No joke.

Any pets? Yes and I love all 8 of them to death.

What’s for breakfast? Leftovers. Sometimes chocolate, if I'm lucky.

At age seven, you wanted to be: Doctor by day and singer by night. I know, I know.

What’s one thing you find easiest to forgive? If someone accidentally bumps into you and says sorry.

What’s one thing you find impossible to forgive? Cruelty to animals.

Do you have any superstitions? I always think I'm going to jinx something if I'm too cocky.

What’s your biggest self-indulgence? CLOTHES AND SHOES. Food. Expensive sushi.

Favorite place to shop? The quaint little boutiques at Bangsar.

Whose wallet would you like to steal? Bill Gates', duh.

Whose diary would you most like to read? Britney Spears.

If you were an inventor, what would you invent? Contraptions that give you lipo without having to go under the knife, or doing anything remotely disgusting.

Favorite car? Ooooh, still the Audi tt, I'm sorry.

What was your childhood nickname? I don't do nicknames.

When and where are you happiest? On a beach holiday. I'm not talking about PD.

Who is your best friend? Mariam.

Who is your worst enemy? My spending. I know this is not a person, but whatever.

What piece of art would you most like to own? The Mona Lisa - this is the most famous painting in the world, can you imagine what a conversational piece it would be at a dinner party??

What’s your favorite vacation spot? So far...London.

Who is your favorite fictional character? Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd.

What’s your most treasured possession? My cats. Do they count?

Your favorite song/band? I like 90s and 80s music.

If you weren’t a sub-editor, what would you be? A Channel V vj.

What current trend would you like to see disappear? The black motorcycle jacket. Simply because I can't wear it in Malaysia!!

What’s your biggest fashion regret? GAH, A LOT.

Favorite trend of all time? Anything which is GENUINELY vintage. Big hair. Red lipstick.

Worst trend of all time? Mullets. Thanks Maine for this one. So true. GAG.

Always: Walk like you're wearing heels.

Never: Forget to brush your teeth before you go out of the house.

Fine wine?

Happy 25th birthday to me!

Well, technically I'm a day late, but I believe birthdays should be celebrated a whole week, I find it a little unfair to celebrate the day you were born in just....a day. I mean, stepping your (then tiny) foot into the world is a huge thing, isn't it? So if you were wondering how I celebrated my birthday, my lovely boyfriend and my gorgeous girlfriend (but in a non-sexual way) Maine planned a sweet little surprise party for me the night before at Redbox, Curve, because they know all of us are mic hoggers - plus, who doesn't love a karaoke session? And as I walked into the door and everyone shouted "Surprise!" while the cheesy 'Happy birthday' karaoke song came on, I felt genuinely touched and a tad bit embarrassed that these people were celebrating...me. It was the first time anyone every threw me a surprise party, so 'that fuzzy feeling' was overwhelming. To sum up the night, it was good food, good company, good cheesecake, cheesy boyband songs and girly pop music kind of fabulous. I loved every second of it.

Then yesterday at work, my mom called me and asked me to order pizza for a last minute makan-makan. My best friend in Perth had called up Secret Recipe (our hang out place everytime we didn't know where to go and were too broke to go shopping) and had a cake delivered to my house. Very very nice of her, if she were here I'd give her a big fat kiss on the cheek. So at the very last minute before I left my office, I called up Domino's and ordered SIX regular pizzas, with all the trimmings which came in the shape of chicken wings and coke bottles. My cousins who are back from Florida (but will be leaving again to Florida in a couple of days) were going to swing by, hence the six pizzas. BUT as soon as my other cousins (all seven of them) and the adults started filling up the house, I realised six pizzas were definitely not enough to feed the hungry crowd, so Yasir and I popped by KFC (while Rayyan - my one-year-old baby cousin slept on me) to round up buckets of originals and spicys. Rushed home, everyone grabbed some grub and out came Mar's cake - it felt like she was there with me, in the form of a coffee cheese cake (or was it tiramisu? either way, it was DELICIOUS). Minus the fact that she was sliced and gobbled up by my hungry family, of course.

After dinner, the cousins and the fiance (Farah's fiance to be exact, Faliq - they're both YOUNGER than me btw) and my boyfriend gathered around and decided to play Hello Jack; a party card game where you have to act out certain actions when certain cards came out. Of course, chaos ensued - my family is loud to begin with, but a noisy card game takes it to a whole new level! When the 'joker' card came out and we all had to jump up and prance about while making 'joker' faces, I almost peed in my pants. Everyone finally went home at almost 2am.

I think birthdays are there to remind us to be thankful about what we have - the boyfriend that loves you even with your random tantrums, fabulous friends you've had in your life since forever or friends who have just recently walked into your life, the noisy cousins, my cute grandparents, my mom, my MIA sister who is now in Norway working hard for the government..and not forgetting my cats, who are constantly hungry, but go up to my room on most mornings and curl with me on my bed to sleep. Birthdays are that one day evey year that lets you know how people appreciate you being around, so they go out of their way to celebrate the day you were born. And that's a very, very cool feeling.

Thanks, guys.

Pics for a change

Was going through my blog and realised it's all text text text..so here are some old and new random pics for a change:


This was when Thundercat was still a kitty. I had just gotten back from the beach that day, hence the beach'y' hair. Thundercat was sniffing me at the time,as I probably smelled like salty sea water and we managed to catch it on camera. I remember it being a really really hot day because it was summer in Melbourne. Oh, and those were my Multivitamin pills I used to take everyday.



I smile when I look at this photo, because we were having a good laugh about something (check Daphne and me out with all our open-mouthed glory), although to be honest, I can't exactly remember what. Oh well, I'm sure it was hilarious though, possibly something dirty. You can barely see Maine's head at the corner right, but she was definitely laughing. It was Naufa's birthday and we were having drinks at some bar, then we headed off to spiegeltent for some dancing. Good times, good times.


I've just realised I haven't had my hair this long in ages. And I've also realised I look really young here. Crap. This photo wasn't taken TOO long ago, think it was last year, or the year before that. Have I really aged that much? No wonder everyone thought I was 18 back then!Excuse me while I hang myself. Anyway, this was at Melbourne Central and I met up with some friends to hang out and play pool (although I was more of a spectator) and kick some ass at air hockey. And kick ass I did. I may look all girly and harmless in the photo, but I swear I beat Solo (who is this 6 foot black thug hahah..fine, I'm exaggerating but he's tall and IS black anyway) and he left with his tail between his legs.




Okay, I don't really have photos of people from where I used to work at the cafe, so I've opted for this one instead. It was a staff party for all the workers at Plush, Chill out and Bluezone (cafes in Union House at Melbourne Uni), so everyone got together and ate a lot of sushi. As usual, people were shoving drinks in my hand and practically forced alcohol down my throat, but I held my ground. The two girls I'm with in the picture are the sushi girls who work at Plush - a cafe notorious for having hot chicks serve you your sushi rolls and asking you if you'd like "ginger, soy sauce or wasabi with that?". I don't have a picture of Chill Out (yeah, I'm more of a Chill out chick, where they send rejects from Plush - that place is brutal). Oh god, where did the green ring I'm wearing in the picture go??

Yes, that's a Lamborghini we're precariously leaning on. This was my first week at Paragon Publishing -which happens to be my first office job - and we were having our awards dinner for errr...cars. That was the first time I actually got to sniff the leather seats of supercars I once used to ogle from afar. Nice. Matiin(on my left), Mira (on the right) and I were doing our best 'car showgirls' impersonation. I think we kinda aced it. Kinda.


Ahhhh, who can forget their first column? Not me! So it may not exactly be about stuff I would normally write about, but every writer has got to start somewhere right?

The girls. At where else, but Suzi's? This was when Zara was back a couple of months ago, flashing us her beautiful wedding ring. I was having a bad hair day, obviously. This picture would be complete if we had Mar (who was and still IS in Perth), Naufa (who was in Melbourne) and Shikin (who was...somewhere in KL doing something) in it. One day we'll ALL be reunited,have faith, my darlings!



Yep, that's the Mini Clubman sitting in my driveway. At the time it was newly launched, so people gaped and stared because they've never seen that version of the Mini. I actually got to keep it for three whole days! Duuude, I so could've gotten used to that lifestyle. One day `Aainaa, one day.


Yasir (The Boyfriend) and I at Izrin's wedding. I swear, everyone was dressed up to the nines, I felt so under dressed. But he thought I looked beautiful, so that was all that mattered anyway :)


So we've come to the end of my 'visual' post. Hope you enjoyed them!

sloppy kisses!

p/s:I read my post and I sound so perky, it's almost weird. Next post will be angst'y'.

This is a happy post #5

I know all my previous 'happy posts' are of the little things in life that make me smile, but I just got off the phone a few seconds ago with my best friend Mariam, who's working in Perth right now and she mentioned something which has made me ecstatic. So she calls me and starts talking about this Singaporean guy who she's gotten to know over the past few months..how he's met her family and gets along so well with them, how they text and call each other constantly - just a brief summary of what's been going on. This pretty much brings us to the highlight of our conversation about her relationship with Zuhairi (we don't normally speak in Malay but she was in her office at the time) :

Mar: ...jadi kita dah bersama (so we're together now).

Me: Jap jap jap jap jap (wait wait wait wait wait)....what? Wait ..wait...wait (yes, obviously that's the only thing I say on repeat when I'm shocked about something)

Mar: Okay.

Me: Jap....you're saying you're together? Like together?

Mar: (laughing) yes!

Me: Wait, like boyfriend girlfriend together?

Mar: YES!

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Right. So before you assume I'm overreacting, I don't think I am. Because this is the first Malay boy Mariam has dated in donkey years. This girl has seen Indians, Arabs and White Dudes. No, I'm not being racist, hear me out. There' s absolutely nothing wrong with dating other races, of course not - my friend Zara is married to a Mat Salleh and happily living in SCOTLAND. But there is something wrong with the relationship, when religions collide and both partners have to go separate ways after they've been together for years - I've been with Mar through these trying times in her life and this girl has endured so much. I've cried with her when she's crying on my shoulder, I've listened to her pour her heart out every single time, fighting for her relationship when she knows it's almost a dead end, and then ending it because she knows it's the right thing to do. This girl has been through everything; she's been broken a few times, she's given herself selflessly in relationships and she's had her heart stepped on again and again...and you know what the amazing thing is? She gets up and she's not afraid to love again after all that heartache.

Mar,

You are the one person who I really feel deserves all the love and happiness in the world. I'm so happy for you, sayang. Zuhairi, if you're reading this, take care of her for me will you...she's a keeper.

Love you, babes.

What's your beauty fix?

So, this post is special. It may seem 'un'special but trust me, it's special. I'm not letting you people know YET why it's so special (that's four 'specials' so far) but you'll know why soon. Let's just say it's the first of many more to come, as I'm testing out the waters of all things 'beauty' related. Wink. Shamaine, hush yo' mouth, girl! Haha. Anyway, I'm on the prowl for good makeup after realising I can't keep on digging into my already dried up foundation bottle and swirling my brush into an almost non-existent compact blusher. And with so many products out there to choose from, one can get overwhelmed when faced with the smorgasboard of goodies promising to turn you from plain jane to bombshell vixen in one application. And in the end, some of us may just grab a product which is pricey, yet totally unworthy of us spending almost half our paycheck on, which is something we all want to avoid, I'm sure. Thus, I find that getting personal recommendations from friends about beauty products is always your best bet (and also a quick shortcut) when makeup shopping. Admittedly, I'm not an expert at the art of 'warpaint', but I'll share what I know. Here are my top picks:

Loreal True Match foundation - This one is possibly the best out of the best of your drugstore makeup choices. If you're on a budget then look no further. I've tried A LOT of foundations (those which don't cost more than RM60 of course) and I've had too thick, too thin, runny, cakey, everything you can imagine. This foundation simply disappears into your skin upon application and won't look like you have a mask on. So slap it on, sisters!

Bloom Liquid Eyeliner (jet black) - Everyone knows I can't LIVE without my eyeliner, like how Cleopetra probably couldn't live without hers. Okay, straight-up, there's a pro and a con with this eyeliner. I like to start with the con, so the pro may just suggest it not to be that big a deal after all. Con : very strong when you line your eyes, so you risk caking up your eyelashes. You may need to have tissues at hand to wipe it off your lashes ASAP, or you may look like you have a very dodgy brand of fake eyelashes on (possibly one for drag queens) . Eye-makeup remover would also do the trick, but be careful you don't wipe off your eyeliner, because I know what a bitch that can be, especially if you've managed to achieve a perfect line, after only four hours. Pro : Honey, you can scream, cry, jump, hang upside down, go swimming with the sharks, make-out - whatever you feel like doing, this eyeliner will be your companion without as much as a smudge. Men may think of abandoning you, but this eyeliner never will. I know, very random, but whatever.

*Tip : Use a liquid liner for your top lid and a pencil eyeliner to line the bottom of your eyes. Recommended pencil eyeliner which won't give you panda eyes : MAC powerpoint eye pencil in 'Engraved'.

Okay, you know what, I'll leave all of you with those two for now. I don't want to be a bore, and those of you who don't give a twat about makeup are probably snoring by now. But I'd love to find out about the products YOU swear on, because I'm thinking of re-stocking my makeup bag. Don't be stingy and share share share share!

sloppy kisses!

p/s: Anyone know a REALLY good hair straightening iron? And please don't say GHD - mine was screwy.

This is a shout out

...to my 'invisible' readers, whom I THINK read my blog from time to time because they've told me so! Not a lot of people, but every reader counts! Yay!

They are...drumroll please...

Syibba, Eduardo and Raina (yesss I still remember you telling me you check my blog when you're bored. I was smiling so widely when you told me..I hope you're still doing it, darling.)

You people fuel my creativity. I'll try to write interesting posts. Seriously.

Oh and if there are other 'invisible' readers out there, it would be nice if you let me know - spread the love!

sloppy kisses xoxo

Patience is a virtue

Recently, ESPECIALLY when I'm PMS-ing, I find myself getting a little too emotional than people around me may be able to handle. I'm afraid that after a while, these people might just start to look at me and think I'm plain old crazy. And when I say "people", I actually mean Yasir. The sweet boy has seen me cry more times than I buy shoes - and I buy shoes a lot. When I'm PMS-ing, I cry at EVERYTHING. I cry when I'm watching a sad movie, but I also cry when I 'm watching a happy movie. I cry when I'm tired. I cry when I feel fat. I cry when Yasir says something sweet to me, I cry when we're fighting. I cry because it's a Tuesday. And so it goes on. So last night after work, we were in the car having an intense conversation about life, the goals we want to accomplish, the 'if Josh Hartnett/Brooke Burke was naked in front of you and wanted to sleep with you would you do it knowing that you would lose me forever' kind of questions...deep stuff. And then Yasir proceeds to tell me about how he feels that the most important characteristic a husband should have is patience. Apparently, his father used to say to him:

"Yasir, akal perempuan ni pendek. Kena banyak bersabar."

I know girls, I know. We don't like the fact that men are referring to us as narrow-minded creatures. We HATE it when they tell us we're too emotional. That we're incapable of controlling our feelings. I mean, why are we any different than guys?

Well, you know what, we are.

I know this because I've seen it and you probably have too, in your household. My uncle is extremely patient with my aunt, when she's having one of her mood swings. She's a bit dramatic, a little eccentric, but he's always there to calm her down. And my grandfather? He is the most patient man I know. My grandmother can be dramatic sometimes too- one time during dinner, she decided to smash a plate to the floor because she was upset about something. Of course while doing this, she was also screaming. She was yelling about how she was sick of her life, how she wanted to leave...and you know what? My grandfather didn't even raise his voice. And by his magical powers, she eventually calmed down.

My grandfather has always told me, eversince I can remember, that one of the qualities I should look for in a man is patience. Year after year, as if he forgets that he's ever told me, there will be a time (it's usually when I'm lying down beside him, or when he's sitting in his favourite chair watching some Malay drama with my grandmother) when he says to me, "`Aainaa...find a man who is patient. Someone like your datuk. That's the most important thing, remember that". Then I would nod, and he would go back to sleep.

And so last night, while Yasir and I were in the car and he was talking about how his father had advised him to be patient with his wife, I was dead quiet. Then he looks at me and asks me, "Do you think I've got what it takes to make a good husband?"

And I don't know if it was because I was PMS-ing big time or the fact that his father had advised him to be exactly the man my grandfather had asked me to find, but I started crying. And while my mascara smudged my face and tears ran down my cheeks for the one millionth and one time since Yasir and I have gotten to know each other, he wiped away my tears and hugged me, no questions asked, like it was the first time he's seen me cry.

And that's exactly how I knew, at that moment while we were sitting in my car, that he would make a good husband indeed.

Am-bitch-ious

I've always wanted to have my own business. It's a bit strange, considering I come from a family with NO business background. My mother however, keeps on insisting that selling insurance (she's a part time insurance agent) IS a business. But I'm not talking about part-time selling, I'm talking about the real deal. I'm talking about starting from scratch, bloodsweatandtears, your own idea/product business. And some people say that if you're toying with the idea of starting your own business, having a family with ZERO business background is already a disadvantage in itself. And I can now safely say that this rumour is actually true. Although my mother is a business lecturer (how ironic is that?) she lacks the hands-on knowledge that is valuable for every starting entrepreneur who wants to listen about personal experience. So now I'm turning to books like 'The Complete Idiot's Guide to Starting Your Own Business', 'Think rich and grow rich' or business advice on the web. Hey, you've gotta start somewhere right?

And after doing some research, I've realised one common advice coming from all these resources - to start your own business, you've got to want it SO BAD, to an extent where you may even be OBSESSED with it. You've got to have this burning desire in you, to fuel you to take that giant leap. Let's face it - a lot of us are chicken shit to start something of our own, in fear of failure. Our own mind is the first major obstacle we have to overcome - and this obstacle alone is enough to make you stick to your desk job year after year, because it's safe. There's nothing wrong with a desk job, but for those who have always DREAMT of having something of their own and being their own boss, the fear of failing is a tough one to conquer. I, myself, am a competitive bitch, for lack of a better term. I hate losing. And FAILING is something that I know may potentially crush me. But I know that I'm willing to accept failure and grow from it. I know that having your own business is nowhere near a walk in the park. Things will happen that will cause you to tear your hair out or bang your head against a wall. But I'm so obsessed with wanting my own business, that I'm willing to wear a wig after I tear all my hair out, pop some band-aids on those scars on my forehead and start where I left off.

But business talk aside, the mind is a terrible thing. It is the single, most dangerous obstacle you could have, standing in between your current unsatisfying job and actually doing something you're passionate about - something you know that would be so much more fulfilling in your life. It doesn't have to be about earning a lot of money at all. I was having dinner with my friend Shamaine the other night and she told me of her dream of moving to Greece and working in a hotel, at the front desk. I also know people who travel to other countries to teach English to kids. These people aren't paid a lot. They may not have that glow that rich people get from using expensive facial creams or makeup, but they've certainly got that inner glow that comes through because they've experienced something so fulfilling in life. And it's this glow that I aspire to achieve.

If you're one of those rare people who is doing a job that they love, then consider yourself extremely lucky. But if you're like me and you know you've got so much more to offer and you could be doing something more rewarding, something that feels right, then you'll know where I'm coming from. Everyone knows the saying 'life is short' or 'you only live once', so why do we insist on doing something we're not passionate about, day in and day out? I'm not talking about quitting your day job right this instant - but I am talking about ACTUALLY doing it one day. You know that if you don't take that leap, you will possibly never forgive yourself. You're willing to overcome your fears, to overcome your insecurities and you ARE going to take that first step. You know there's no other way, but to act on your dreams. In my case, it's buying every book on business, deciding what business I plan to do, talking to other entrepreneurs about their experiences, meeting a financial advisor - and that's not even the tip of the iceberg. There's no doubt that there's A HECK OF A LOT to do, but I already have the PASSION and the DETERMINATION to want to achieve my goals. And its these characteristics alone that tell me that already, I have the makings of a successful businesswoman.

Turning 25 in two weeks.

....five more years till I'm 30. Breathe `Aainaa breathe. Must start stocking up on anti-wrinkle creams and HL milk. Brittle bones can be the devil.

Career woman vs Supermom

Lately, something strange has been happening to me. I don't know if the recent whirlwind of engagements, weddings and 'giving births' has something to do with it, but I find myself battling with two sides of the ultimate goals I want to achieve in life. It may be no secret to some of you that I'm contemplating my career path - I liken myself to a caged bird, wanting to taste the freedom of flight. I want to succeed, to build a name for myself, to have something of my own. I want to be that woman in a sleek and sexy work outfit. Most important of all, I want to be able to make enough money to buy anything I want from a high-fashion store and not think twice about it when I stand at the counter register. I want to be able to have jars of La Mer on my dressing room table. I'm not just talking about buying expensive clothes and facial creams, I'm talking about financial freedom. I want to live the comfortable life, live in a beautiful home, lavishly decorated. I want all these things.

Then, there's this other side of me that has been kicking in lately and it's kicking quite hard - you guessed it, my maternal instincts. I find myself secretly envying married couples (ESPECIALLY if they're young) who walk around shopping malls with a bouncing baby in tow. The other day, I was in the female restroom at The Curve and this adorable young woman in a floaty pink dress, who looked around my age was changing her baby girl's diaper. She looked a little flustered as she struggled to complete her task, but she was smiling while her baby gurgled happily. I'm even smiling as I'm writing this now, because it was such a cute sight. I saw a little bit of myself in her, once I have my first baby (Insya-Allah). The sight of a mother bonding with her child never fails to bring this excited little flutter in my heart.

I know a lot of my friends place 'climbing the career ladder' over having kids first, but secretly, deep inside me, having a family of my own is a dream of mine that would fulfill me more than any designer outfit or jars of La Mer ever will. Of course, having a fulfilling career and making a name of your own is GREAT and something I still definitely want to achieve in life. I'm not just going to be a baby-making machine, but I know where my priorities lie. I want to be there for my children, not just dump them on the nanny while I attend meetings and events. I've also realised that women who decide to concentrate on bringing up their children are looked down on by some career-minded women because they're just so 'old-fashioned'. Seriously, these 'modern' women should be knocked on the head. Yes, it's admirable that you're so successful and making lots of money, but being a mom isn't easy, I'm sure we all know that. It's no secret that even Oprah has said time and time again that being a full-time mother is the hardest job in the world. What you deem 'fulfilling' in life is different for different people.

And so I've been pondering lately about what I deem fulfilling in MY life - and out of 'career woman' and 'supermom' `Aainaa, I've decided that no matter what job I'm doing, or wherever I am, when my family calls me, I will always, always come running.

In my Manolo Blahniks.

:)

This is a happy post # 4

I've realised that I usually put these happy posts up after I feel like shit. I suppose thinking about the little things in life that make me smile helps perk me up a little. So here we go :

- Seeing a cute old couple holding hands, still very much in love with each other after all these years

- Scenes in a movie where an animal is being rescued and eventually emerges unharmed

- Will Smith in Hancock (if only all street bums looked like him!)

- My datuk. His senget smile, his crinkly eyes, his goofy laughter and his silk-like white hair. Everything about him makes me smile :)

- This one's cheesy, but really, I feel all tingly inside : seeing a rainbow after the rain. It feels like God is reminding me that everything is going to be alright, just have faith in your heart.

- A slice of good cake.

- Winning in a game. Yes, I'm competitive, I can't help it! But I'm learning not to be a sore loser, people!

to be continued.

When feeling rejected

One step at a time
Jordin Sparks

Hurry up and wait
So close, but so far away
Everything that you've always dreamed of
Close enough for you to taste
But you just can't touch

You wanna show the world,
but no one knows your
name yet
Wonder when and where and how
you're gonna make it
You know you can if you get the chance
In your face as the door keeps slamming
Now you're feeling more
and more frustrated
And you're getting all kind
of impatient waiting
We live and we learn to take

[ Chorus ]
One step at a time
There's no need to rush
It's like learning to fly
Or falling in love
It's gonna happen and it's
Supposed to happen that we
Find the reasons why
One step at a time

You believe and you doubt
You're confused, you got
it all figured out
Everything that you wished for
Could be, should be, would be yours
If they only knew

You wanna show the world,
but no one knows your
name yet
Wonder when and where and how
you're gonna make it
You know you can if you get the chance
In your face as the door keeps slamming
Now you're feeling more
and more frustrated
And you're getting all kind
of impatient waiting
We live and we learn to take

[ Chorus ]
One step at a time
There's no need to rush
It's like learning to fly
Or falling in love
It's gonna happen and it's
Supposed to happen that we
Find the reasons why
One step at a time

When you can't wait any longer
But there's no end in sight
It's the faith that makes you stronger
The only way you get there
Is one step at a time


[ Chorus ]
Take one step at a time
There's no need to rush
It's like learning to fly
Or falling in love
It's gonna happen and it's
Supposed to happen that we
Find the reasons why
One step at a time

[ Chorus ]
One step at a time
There's no need to rush
It's like learning to fly
Or falling in love
It's gonna happen and it's
Supposed to happen that we
Find the reasons why
One step at a time

Short bit

Found this piece in my old friendster blog, part of my Creative Writing when I was in my first semester at Melbourne University. If you love true stories, you'll like this one (I hope!). I think some of you have read it, oh well. Enjoy anyway!

“Hold your breath! Paddle with your arms and legs!”

He threw me into the pool and I cried out in surprise. I trashed fiercely, my skinny arms and legs flapping about, desperate to keep my head above the water, just to take in a mouthful of it. It tasted like bug urine mixed with slimy seaweed but I gulped it down quickly, terrified of making a fuss in case he got mad. I started sputtering and coughing, and water came out of my nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to hold your breath? If it’s so bloody hard, just pinch your nose!” he yelled, the sides of his jaw twitching.

You see, two things would happen when my father got really angry. His jaw would twitch ever so slightly, and his nostrils would start flaring, which reminded me of the bull I used to watch on television, during cartoon hour on Sunday mornings. Except he didn’t have a ring pierced through his nose. And this time I was the red flag.

I’m going to drown, I thought helplessly to myself. I’m going to drown, and he’s just going to stand there and watch me. I swallowed another mouthful of icky water and desperately reached out to cling on to my father’s wet shorts which were plastered to his thighs, but he pushed my grubby fingers away.

“Stop being a baby and float goddamnit!”

I decided I was going to drown then. I was going to sink deep into the bottom of the 5meter swimming pool and drown, right there in front of my father, just to spite him. I hated swimming! I hated water! I hated him for making me swim in this stupid yucky swimming pool! I hated him so much!

But then something happened when I tried to drown. I didn’t drown.

I started to float.