I've started working in The Star last week. In fact I enjoy the work. I get to see how an event is organized and get to meet celebrities. So far, the only event that I've done is Cheer 2007 and Kuntum workshop in Sunway College. Subang Jaya 10km run is coming soon! *excited*
Cheer 2007 was awesome. Putra Indoor Stadium at Bukit Jalil was packed! Lots of girls but all of them are too young =p. Sarah Tan and Soo Kui Jien was the host for the event. The good thing about this job is you'll able to talk and know lots of people. I get to talk to Sarah and Jien =O~
I never knew that Cheer was interesting. I thought it gonna be boring. Very dramatic. I get to see girls cry. Got mistake then cry, no mistake also cry, lose also cry, win also cry.It's all about crying. Mexican waves damm jadi cos the stadium damm pack. I was impressed with few teams and one of the team got mascot. A Dynamite! Rox0r!
Point Blanc was there and he performed Ipohmali. Well done! Some of judges were from USA. They came all the way from there just for this event. The rest was Malaysian. They are from
So You Think You Can Dance. There's a guy and girl. I think they are Yannus and Manuela.( I think I got their name correctly) And one more judge is a female. She came to me earlier before the event started on the 2nd day and asked me where she's suppose to sit. She informed me that she's one of the judges. She's freaking hot and tall. I was wondering who is she until my colleague told me she's ex Miss Malaysia. -.- Patut la so tinggi.
I'm having terrible flu and cough now. I think I better sleep now if not I sure cannot work tomorrow. Anyway I'll try to insert some photos for the Cheer 2007. Goodnite people.
A little belated but, well...
my housemate ish back for good.
Call me up girl! We go shopping and induce each other to shred our wallets to pieces :D
p.s. When you asked what I wanted from Aus, I wished you could bring home Supre :p
p.p.s Diva is available here, but it's so expensive when you spend in RM. So that's where all my AUD$ went to :/
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SJ10k! Who else joining? Liangness is working for TheStar now so he cannot join blardy hell >:( And my brother's running the 7km. Somebody run 3km with me? :(
TheEdge and Bursa's RatRace is here too, August 7.
***
My bf damn evil. He ate my cupcakes with curry.
*sniff*
Why I get this kinda boyfriend wan.
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Birthdays that we missed~
Nigel Khaw Deng Hsiung
Keni Fernandez
Err...who else did I miss. I'm losing my "girl-who-remembers-everyone's-birthday" reputation :p
***
Was speaking to a former classmate from uni. He's in insurance now. Get back into writing yo! Poor guy misses all the white chicks in Aus hoho. Found out another friend who was in real estate eventually got back into writing. Good on ya! Don't let the passion die, guys :)
Woon. Don't let money rule your life. At the end of the day, it only matters if you love what you're writing...which is something I've yet to figure out :p All the best with job hunting.
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Rabbit, I update already. Now can slack for another whole week hehe!
Bah.
Missed the deadline to register for SJ10K -_-
For the first time ever, my deputy editor left office earlier than me. (!!!)
How can?!
And it was a Friday.
When you watch your editor chop up your story...
*sob*Sometimes I don't even recognise my work after it has gone under the editor's knife.
Our webbie is back up. --->
http://www.theedgedaily.comPast few days our network was down; being the tallest building in the area doesn't bode well with heavy thunderstorms. Everytime we get zapped, there will be a huge collective groan from everyone...that's why you should always SAVE YOUR WORK! Not just in the computer, save a copy in your thumb drive. Poor writers had to stay back late to make the next day's paper. Luckily I cleared my story fast nyehehe.
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HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!
wahoo I look tall here hor? :DI spent whole of last night baking.
Fudge brownies for me Dad; devil's food cupcakes for my Godpa.
Sorta burnt the brownies actually...but manage to salvage it with some butter cream icing. The bakery supplier in USJ 9 is gone!!! My mom suggested that I go for baking classes...maybe I will when I have the dosh. My bakes always crack grrr...
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I found this story in the crevice of my pen drive. Very in line with Father's Day. A bit lengthy, but a good read nonetheless. Enjoy :)
xxx
Strong and capable of tackling all sorts of tasks, his hands were a great asset. But there was one thing that they had never learnt to do.
My Father's Hands
His hands were rough and exceedingly strong. He could gently prune a fruit-tree or firmly wrestle a stubborn mile into harness. He could draw and saw a square with quick accuracy. He had been known to peel his knuckles on a tough jaw. But what I remember most is the special warmth from those hands soaking through my shirt as he would take me by the shoulder and, squatting beside my ear, point out the glittering swoop of a blue hawk, or a rabbit asleep in its lair. They were good hands that served him well and failed him in only one thing: they never learnt to write.
My father was illiterate. The number of illiterates in the country has steadily declined, but if there were only one I would be saddened, remembering my father and the pain he endured because his hands never learnt to write.
When he started school, the remedy for a wrong answer was ten ruler strokes across a stretched palm. For some reason, shapes, figures and recitations just didn’t fall into the right pattern inside his six-year-old tow-head. Maybe he suffered form some type of learning handicap such as dyslexia. His father took him out of school after several months and set him to a man’s job on the farm.
Years later, his wife, educated to the fourth year of primary school, would try to teach him to read. And still later I would grasp his big first between my small hands and awkwardly help him trace the letters of his name. He submitted to the ordeal, but soon grew restless. Flexing his fingers and kneading his palms, he would eventually declare that he had had enough and would depart for a long, solitary walk.
Finally, one night when he thought no one saw, he slipped away with his son’s second-grade reader and laboured over the words, until they became too difficult. He pressed his forehead into the pages and wept. ‘Jesus – Jesus – not even a child’s book?’ Thereafter, no amount of persuading could bring him to sit with pen and paper.
From the farm to road-building and later factory work, his hands served him well. His mind was keen, his will to work unsurpassed. During World War II, he was a pipefitter in a shipyard and installed the complicated guts of mighty fighting ships.
His enthusiasm and efficiency brought an offer to become a foreman – until he was handed the qualification test. His fingers could trace a path across the blueprints while his mind imagined the pipes lacing through the heart of the ship. He could recall every twist and turn of those pipes. But he couldn’t read or write.
After the shipyard closed, he went to the cotton mil, where he laboured at night, and stole from his sleeping hours the time required to run the farm. When the mill shut down, he went out each morning looking for work – only to return night after night and say to Mother as she prepared his dinner, ‘They just don’t want anybody for the job who can’t take their tests.’
It had always been hard for him to stand before a man and make an X mark for his name, but the hardest moment of all was when he placed ‘his mark’ by the name someone else had written for him, and saw another man walk away with the deed to his beloved farm. When it was over, he stood before the window and slowly turned the pen he still held in his hands – gazing, unseeing, down the mountainside. I went out to the barn that afternoon and wept for a long, long while.
Eventually, he found another cotton-mill job, and we moved into a millhouse village with a hundred look-alike houses. He never quite adjusted to town life. The blue of his eyes faded; the skin across his cheekbones became a little slack. But his hands kept their strength, and their warmth still soaked through when he would sit me on his lap and ask that I read to him from the Bible. He took great pride in my reading and would listen for hours as I struggled through the awkward phrases.
Once he heard ‘a radio preacher’ relate that the Bible said, ‘The man that doesn’t provide for his family is worse than a thief and an infidel and will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.’ Often he would ask me to read that part to him, but I was never able to find it. Other times, he would sit at the kitchen table leafing through the pages as though by a miracle he might be able to read the passage should he turn to the right page. Then he would sit staring at the Book, and I knew he was wondering if God was going to refuse him entry into heaven because his hands couldn’t write.
When Mother left once for a weekend to visit her sister, Dad went to the store and returned with food for dinner while I was busy building my latest homemade wagon. After the meal he said he had a surprise for dessert, and went out to the kitchen, where I could hear him opening a can. Then everything was quiet. I went to the doorway, and saw him standing before the sink with an open can in his hand. ‘The picture looked just like pears,’ he mumbled. He walked out and sat on the back steps, and I knew he had been embarrassed before his son. The can read ‘Whole White Potatoes’, but the illustration on the label did look a great deal like pears.
I went and sat beside him, and asked if he would point out the stars. He knew where the Big Dipper and all the other stars were located, and we talked about how they got there in the first place. He kept that can on a shelf in the woodshed for a long while, and on several occasions I saw him turning it in his hands as if the touch of the words would teach his hands to write.
Years later, when Mum died, I tried to get him to come and live with my family, but he insisted on staying in his small weatherboard house on the edge of town with a few farm animals and a garden plot. His health was failing, and he was in and out of hospital with several mild heart attacks. Old Doc Green saw him weekly and gave him medication, including nitroglycerin tablets to put under his tongue should he feel an attack coming on.
My last fond memory of Dad was watching as he walked across the brow of a hillside meadow, with those big, warm hands, now gnarled with age, resting on the shoulders of my two children. He stopped to point out to them, confidentially, a pond where he and I had swum and fished years before. That night, my family and I flew to a new job and new home, overseas. Three weeks later, he was dead of a heart attack.
I returned alone for the funeral. Doc Green told me how sorry he was. In fact, he was bothered a bit, because he had just written Dad a new nitroglycerin prescription, and the chemist had made it up. Yet the bottle of pills had not been found on Dad’s person. Doc Green felt that a pill might have kept him alive long enough to summon help.
An hour before the chapel service, I found myself standing near the edge of Dad’s garden, where a neighbour had found him. In grief, I stopped to trace my fingers in the earth where a great man had reached the end of life. My hand came to rest on a half-buried brick, which I aimlessly lifted and tossed aside, before noticing underneath it and twisted and battered, yet unbroken, soft plastic bottle that had been beaten into the soft earth.
As I held the bottle of pills, the scene of Dad struggling to remove the cap and in desperation trying to break the bottle with the brick flashed painfully before my eyes. With anguish I knew why those big warm hands had lost in their struggle with death. For there, imprinted on the bottle cap, were the words, ‘Child-Proof-Cap – Push Down and Twist to Unlock’. The chemist later confirmed that he had just started using the new safety bottle.
I knew it was not a purely rational act, but I went straight to town and bought a leather-bound pocket dictionary and a gold pen set. I bade Dad goodbye by placing them in those big old hands, once so warm, which had lived so well, but had never learnt to write.
Calvin Worthington
This is based on a true story, by said author.
xxx
Made me shed a tear, it did.
TOO3K is awesome.
edit*
Me is joining Subang Jaya 10km run on July 1, 2007.
7.30am @ MPSJ
Together with my bro and Liangz0r.
Kena con about it last time. Ish. Didn't train up for it cuz I thought we missed it, so just gonna join the Fun Run which is only 3km :p
So here I am in Bukit Baru.
I got my assam laksa and cendol today. Nothing short of awesome.
Nadeje's Mille Crepe sitting in the fridge waiting for me.
Nutmeg. I LOVE NUTMEG. Not so much the dried ones though.
I seldom get to eat it. Mostly because mom hates it and tries to steer me clear of it. Hmph.
The bf is outside at the BBQ again. Semangat betul.
As usual, I had to poke him, squash him, hit him, whine at him just to wake him up. He didn't scold me in hokkien this time around; instead he got up and drove me to Jonker. Because he knows better than to mess with the wrath and fury of an angry CharSiu. *roarrrrrrrrrrr*
Whut.
A hungry man is an angry man.
Yesterday's cream cheese pies were hits weeee ^^
Gary actually said it was "like heaven". Mwahahahaha, thanks for the compliment :)
Glad you guys enjoyed it.
Muskelman said that he has to jog extra after eating it. I think you have to jog extra extra extra after you read my next sentence :p
The chocolate pie had 3 scoops of sugar in it plus all that sugary goodness from the Toblerone chocolate itself. And the lemon pie had a whole can of condensed milk in it. And that's 20g less milk than what the recipe called for. Eeps! Can you feel the fats oozing yet?
I totally forgot to check the colour of the agar-agar powder before buying it. So I came back with GREEN powder. I was worried that my lemon pie might come out green, but luckily it didn't. It melted too fast though, with the lack of gelatine. Good thing the bf chose dark choc instead of white or else the choc pie would have been green.
Aya and me were skewering some chicken wings last night. And it was obscene. Especially when the chicken made squishy sounds hahaha...
And now I'm suffering from the one thing that women hate and love every month. I knew that cendol wouldn't do me good but I didn't care. It's worth it!
Next round: fried oysters and ikan bakar alai and lorong siham and ball ball chicken rice again :)
Next weekend will see me self-learning cupcake icing. I won't pay cuppacakes that crazy amount of cash until I fail to make my own again and again.
To a dear friend, I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you. I really wish I could accompany you! I hope you're feeling better now *hugs*
To a certain biatch: stop messing in other people's life.
I remember how much I loathed it when a certain someone used to check my e-mail account even after we broke up. So, fuck you.
HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY CHOO CHOO LION @ AYA's NOOB @ MR STRAWBERRY @ TUA PAO (is that right?) @ HARRY CHEW @ KUACI DADDY @ SIU YOOK FATTY BOM BOM ~!!!!!I waited until midnight just to type this y'know. So.
Don't bully me so much :p
love ya!
No more exams d. No more! I gonna start working on 19 June at The Star in Marketing Services Department. Well, I'm missing my coursemates =( Thanks for being there for me guys.
I miss those time we spent together studying and doing assignments till morning.
Me and Guan sleeping while Ming and Eddie doing the assignments =P
I think it's the hairdo season.
4 guys had haircuts, 1 girl trimmed her bangs.
and I rebonded my hair.
RM170 for rebonding + trim.
She does clothes alterations and eyebrow embroidery too.
I had to go back twice though, cuz the first time wasn't straight enough.
Bloody 7 hours in total over 2 days.
At least it's cheaper tho; the last time I rebonded, it was RM180 for shoulder length hair. This RM170 is for any length past the shoulders. My hair's like halfway down the back now.
I wanted to get bangs but Liang said he's "not ready".
-_-
Makes it sound like some huge ass decision like getting married :p
***
This morning on the way to work, there was an overturned car on the road from SS18 leading into USJ. Near the turning into USJ 2. Turtle car.
One of my colleagues got mugged today. She walked from our office to the Tamil school to catch a cab home; some guy on a motorbike came and snatched her bag. She came back to the office badly shaken and crying. Poor thing...
And it wasn't even the first time it happened to her. Her first time was at TCPJ early in the morning! Taylor's College areas are very dangerous. TCSJ is famous for snatch thefts. TCPJ area is just. plain. scary.
These things happen anywhere, anytime to anyone. The best we can do is to BE ALERT. Don't become like my heroic godma, who wouldn't let go of her bag and got slashed on the hand.
And then spent several days in the hospital to stitch her hand up. Cuz the knife went into her veins. And then lost more money on hospital bills compared to what was in her bag. *sweat*
Don't try to be too hero also la. Your life is worth more than a Gucci bag. Or in my case, a ciplak ah lian bag.
***
I got a free pen drive today! Whoopeedoo~! *dance dance*
Had a nice dinner at TGIF @ 1 Utama yesterday. Jack Daniel's Burger nyuuuum~
Happy 21st Birthday to Yvonne, Yew Jin's sweetie pie :)
After the dinner we had 3 hours plus to kill before Pirates 3. So we had Starbucks. It established my opinion of Starschmucks. Bloody posers. Sheesh.
The movie was not bad la. So long! I was damn tired and sleepy already.
I can't wait to watch Shrek 3 :D
Liang sez we gonna watch it this weekend at Malacca.
I wish Eve didn't tell me those haunted stories about Mahkota Parade. -_-
This time around, I MUST EAT ASSAM LAKSA. And cendol.
Otherwise I won't be happy. Hmph :(
Back to work tomorrow!
Blergh :p
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