The Twitter Spelling Test

Created by Oatmeal


To Blog or Not To Blog

… That is the question.

Why do people blog? Is it because they are aspiring writer trying to get a bigger platform (hopefully get enough readers, including some publisher who is interested in getting their work printed), just to ease the burden of their mundane lives by sharing whatever deemed worth-sharing to the rest of the world, get their ideas and opinions across, express themselves in the only way they find their voice -otherwise they are invisible to the world, or all of the above?

Some people see the internet as the end of journalism. Any people can write things on the internet without any proper grammar or spell checking, let alone journalism training. Why read newspaper editorial if you can get outrageous/opinionated articles on whatever issue on the internet? It is like you have a lot of tinted spectacles, be it red, green, blue, fuchsia, teal (all colors available on the home improvement catalogue), through which you see the world. Now all major newspapers in the world have their online edition and they give comment section for us to rave and rant. I enjoy reading those comments, how people can fight over their difference of opinion. Some people feel the need to declare their love or hate towards any objects, from Justin Bieber to government’s policies. It is okay, though I doubt this is what Thomas Jefferson and friends had in mind when they came up with the First Amendment. People really blog about anything, innocent and provocative stuff included (ex. hate your neighboring country? just google your choice of blogs, photographic shots of your neighborhood, fashion and style, your daily calorie intakes, recipes and cooking/baking tips and tricks, EVERYTHING.)

Do anyone out there read? Well, there is a site stat to help you measure your popularity in the blogosphere, if you care. Who am I kidding? We care. If not, we would write in our diary, journal and hide it along with our secret stash (okay, probably not so secret, chips and pleasure-inducing toys). Same goes with trying to get your Twitter followed or get four or five-digit friends on Facebook. We want to be heard. We want our presence to matter.

Personally I am thankful for blogs. I rarely eat outside without some prior checking on internet reviews, and blogs are really useful. The people who write those stuff are people like me who just want a pleasant culinary experience, not people who get paid to taste the food and write favorable reviews. Before any trips, I read lots of people’s experience in that particular place, how they traveled from place to place, where they stayed, what to eat, what to expect, what not to do. Thank God these people were willing to share their experience to the world!

Nevertheless, there are many blogs out there which are not only useless in terms of intellectual pursuit, but also toxic and borderline racist, dangerous and pathetic. I am not big on blogwalking (geez, I don’t even enjoy reading my posts in the past. “What was I thinking when I wrote this?” was my reaction when I read my previous posts.) but from time to time I stumble upon these poorly written and edited blogs which I must admit, are nauseating.

Of course it all depends to the readers to decide on the quality of our readings (newspapers, books, magazines, blogs, all included) but I think we as bloggers must also apply some humility before hitting the ‘publish’ button. Do some thinking before we let everyone know what we are doing and what we think about stuff. If they are facts, have you check them? Are you sure it is not hoax to stir controversy? If they are opinions, are you sure this is what you believe to be true? Are you sure this is worth-sharing? Do you really want to write that extreme opinions on sensitive subjects, knowing that it WILL hurt others? If it is your life, are you aware that promoting your self image this way (ex. sharing EVERY overseas trip EVERY month, sharing your EVERY shopping spree, sharing EVERY happy moment of your perfect life EVERY day) can instead alienate your friends and make them hate themselves (and probably hate you for making them feel that way)? The opposite is also true, sharing your depression in excruciating details, dissecting your bad day, how you feel that the world has time and time again fail you, is a sure way of getting yourself ditched, at least off my bookmarks. Can you admit you might have been slightly emotional with your choice of words (for us who write about personal stuff, let’s see…on break-ups perhaps?)

Wise men say not to be afraid to take sides or to have opinions. They also advise that if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.

Things I do and don’t do today

I do…

1. wear a red top.

Granted, it’s not chili red or smoking hot red OR the red that makes me smoking hot *rolling eyes* but it is red πŸ˜€

2. wear a brand new *GASP* underwear πŸ˜€

Yes, I bought it on sale. Even better right? Reflecting my good ol’ Chinese “spend little, save much” attitude πŸ™‚

3. greet Happy New Year to my elders.

So if I text you Happy CNY it means I think you are old πŸ™‚ Sorry guys πŸ˜€ Oh don’t sulk…with age, comes wisdom *wink wink*


I don’t…

1. sweep my floor/wash dishes/wash my hair/use any sharp tools (scissors, knife, nail clip).

It sure sounds like I’m throwing hygiene off the window, right? Well, isn’t it good that our laziness is justified!! Personal hygiene is overrated *scoff* Anyway, we believe that doing activities mentioned above will sweep/wash/cut away good fortune. Hey, I’d rather be a little smelly than poor.

2. turn off my lamp until tomorrow

Just one lamp. Don’t scream at me, you energy-savvy people! The world has Earth Hour. I think the energy saved that night is more than what Chinese people waste today. Ummm… not so sure though. There are billions of Chinese in the world :p

3. borrow/lend money

YOYO my friend! Everyone’s for himself.

4. spend money

On a diet of staple food (wholewheat bread, oatmeal, banana, low fat milk) and I don’t have cash with me. Pssst.. you wanna lend me some money after the New Year? πŸ˜€

5. give hongbao

Empty ring finger. You dwell on the cause and I’ll flash you my middle finger. How about that? πŸ˜€ Seriously, singles are not allowed to give hongbao. One of the perks of being unmarried πŸ˜‰

Anyways… Da Jia Hao, Gong Xi Fa Cai !!

Sylvia vs THE Black Cat

I just visited my best friend and neighbor who lives 50 metres away (Well, I never actually crawled the street with a measuring tape, so I guess you just have to take my word). After some boring chit-chat about work, she pointed her ceiling “You see that?” she asked me. I looked up and saw a slightly loosen ceiling tile, “Yep, what about it?”. Here’s what she told me:

I heard loud noises up there. I though it was mice. It was Wednesday afternoon when it happened. The ceiling tile just fell off completely, leaving dirt and dust everywhere in the room. And with the tile, there was a cat. Remember last year when I was in the bathroom, same thing happened? The ceiling tiles fell off and a cat literally fell on top of my head? IT WAS THE SAME CAT. The same black cat with round face, kinda your type (note from writer: errrrr..what???) rolled itself to the cat attack position staring at me with such hatred. I screamed and fled the scene, of course. Thank God there’s Susilo (note from writer: the aqua guy) who just happened to came to work to pick up something. He helped me cleaning and put the tile back.

And you know what? That’s not the end of it. Last night when I took my trash out, I found this cat. It stood in the way. When I touched it with my feet to scare her off, it didn’t flinch an inch. I was just scared that it got rabies and it may bite me, so I stepped back and went around the car to reach theΒ  garbage disposal. It turned its head and watched me leave! That moment I know, it clearly has issues with me. (it’s hard not to take it personally after what happened, don’t you think? :p)

The maid told me that this cat is badung (note from writer: naughty). I think it has rabies, you know the kinda disease which make cats act up? “Hyper?” I asked. Yes, that’s the word. When I took my call outside, I once saw it playing on the roof of your ex boarding house next door.

It must be sick. It’s been trapped in a closed room twice. With me. Creepy, right? I hope she’s a real cat, not kucing jadi2an (note from writer: ghost cat).

Hilarious and disturbing at the same time. What are the odds a cat falls on you twice (with such a grand entrance)? It’s not even your cat πŸ˜€ I don’t remember the black cat she was referring to, which further adds to the mystery. But it surely makes a good inside humour! Well, not anymore since I put this up on my blogΒ  :p

She will probably freak out if I show her below pictures πŸ˜€

the game we play

That’s Life!

Last week’s gotta be one of the most exciting weeks in my life. What’s with it? Phnom Penh.

I went there grumpy, tired and all. And no, I’m not that excited to go to new places. After sunny Riyadh and cool Moscow, I just want to go home to Purwokerto. Mind you, I have not been traveling on vacation. As someone who likes backpacking, I know how to have fun. I know how it feels to not being able to stop smiling because of the excitement. I recognize the urge to take picture all the time. I know the tingling feeling when I set foot in a foreign terrain.

That is not what I felt in Phnom Penh, though.

When my plane landed, I just felt peace. A quiet bliss sneaked its way right into my heart. The people were nice, I admit. But Thais are just as friendly. When we drove to the hotel, again I felt a familiar comfort surrounded me. The city is beautiful. The roads are not packed with vehicles. People drive slowly. They exercise in public parks. Wew… It’s just wonderful to see how they feel connected to the city. And how they are keen to stay physically active πŸ™‚ I saw a lot of interesting buildings, old and new stand side by side.

That night my friend picked me up for dinner. At the dinner, we talked. I don’t want to use the word ‘catch-up’ πŸ˜› We talked about how our life had been since we met the first time two years ago. He told me about his divorce and the aftermath. An extra 20 kgs and new found hobby, smoking. He told me those things lightheartedly. And he always ended every story by shrugging his shoulders and said: That’s life!

I admired the fact that he had taken a trip to hell (almost in a literal sense since his family meant so much to him) yet went back cool, calm and collected, and most importantly, with no bitter aftertaste. He responded by telling me he used to say: Life’s a bitch!!, roam around every night like a madman because he could not sleep. But after six months, things began to be more bearable. And he started to make amends with himself, knowing that he was not all to blame for what had happened. When I said to him that I believed that he would find someone much better because one good person deserves another, he told me that he didn’t believe we could pinpoint a person is good or bad. Everyone of us is just a manifestation of both.

I realize he got a point.

And I am embarrassed of myself who get bogged down so easily with minuscule problems compared to his. By the fourth day, I shared his wisdom. We laughed, had (what seems to be endless supply of) Angkor beer and toasted to life.

I am thankful for the trip and equally grateful that the Universe continues to reveal great wonders and secrets to learn.

Quality vs Quantity

Anyone can enlighten me about what ‘quality time’ means?

No thanks! I put up listening to his shit everyday. I don't need to see it.

Frankly, I have no idea. Because I do lots of things (disturbing details will be elaborated *mind you for those with faint heart*) in desperate attempt to reserve the right to be happy despite endless chores and work-related stress but I don’t quite enjoy the moment.

Exhibit A:

Fenny was having a body scrub slash massage in a comfy quiet salon. What raced through her mind was how much time she got left before she ought to start making the mission report of the two meetings concluded two days before. She pictured the skeleton of the report and which part should go where in the structure. She thought of the best diction and terms which can be used for the report. In the middle of her ‘fanciful’ imagination, her masseuse said “Turn around”. Now she was laying half-naked, looking to the ceiling and asked herself: What the fuck happened with my quality time pampering in the salon?

Now, please correct me if I got this whole idea wrong. Quality time, is supposed to be the best moment you cherish and make use of, regardless of how little time you have. Well, I know precisely when I should have fun. I understand one should have a balanced life and a quote-unquote ‘real’ life to live on, hence the need for some personal time off work. But everytime I go out there (to live my life) I end up contemplating about my work, career, possibilities, challenges, scenarios, next to-do-list, and so on and so forth.

Exhibit B:

Cozy time with girlfriends turned into some intense time for each of us bitching about our boss (and may I share with you that my ex boss is matter-of-factly far from terrible? I am grateful for this revelation. Somebody else’s boss is much worse than mine. Hip hip hooray!).

At times I have quantity time as well. With plenty of time I have, I don’t have to think so much in advance how the best to spend it. Sometimes I sleep and sleep for 14 hours straight, only to wake up because I am hungry. Then I get something to eat, watch some gossip on TV or movie/tv series I download a night before. Then I text my neighbor: mau ke PIM ga πŸ˜€ (to which the answer is mostly yes). To sum up: I don’t arrange anything special with those quantity time. I end up feeling so bored, uninspired, useless, smelly (because I often don’t shower for two days -at times three if I ‘forget’ to shower on Friday) and guilt-ladden. What kind of a responsible adult I am for not having an impressive weekend?

But on the second thought, I now believe that quantity time is better than quality time, at least for my well-being and peace of mind.

Exhibit C:

Fenny was having a weekend-getaway in Bandung with two close friends. They went back to hotel late at night (don’t worry, they were totally sober) after a fun night out of shopping, dinner, supper, and a great laugh at those singing guys-with-extremely-passionate-‘cengkok melayu’-although-they-can’t-reach-the-high-notes of Armada’s Buka Hatimu. She went to bed with a smile. The next morning she got up with a puzzled mind. She had a very vivid dream of work-stuff she even remembered in details the task she was given with (in her dream). So much for quality time in Bandung, eh?

Now I don’t buy the concept of quality vs quantity time. Time is volatile. You just fool yourself if you think you own the time or control it. A good time is a good time. It doesn’t mater whether you have carefully planned it or you just happen to be a part of it. The harder you try to make the time yours, the harder it is for you to enjoy it. Enough with the wisdom, now can anyone tell me how to stop having dreams about work??? (and of course, I’d like to keep my job so don’t tell me to quit :p)

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