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Tired of your life?
Make different choices.

Tired of feeling fat?
Make different choices.

Tired of not going anywhere?
Make different choices.

Had enough of being mediocre/angry/pitiful etc?
Make different choices.

Unhappy where you are?
Make. Different. Choices.

I’ve stagnated. De-evolving in some ways. It’s not just my personality and actions. It’s my skills and ability. Used to be that I’d take it as a personal affront if the client insists on bad copy. Now if it’s client-approved, can already la.

I can try to pinpoint when this happened and when I started allowing myself to do this, but that’s a futile task. You can’t change the past. I can’t change what I’ve done. What I can do is to ask the why and how. Those are factors I can control, no matter how much I want to deny it.

I can make different choices now and hope it’ll be enough for a better me in the future. That’s all I can do.

In case you’re wondering, I was horribly mortified at something that went through my hands that should not have gone out without me at least checking the quality. I did not. And now I want to bang my head against the wall because of that.

Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.

I was talking to my Project Manager today and I realise just how much I’m handling and it all kinda fell apart on me. I will be honest and admit that I have been procrastinating on the things I should be doing at work and it’s not like I don’t like what I’m doing.

It’s that I feel like I am doing too much.

I know of a lot of people who are envious of me and my job description. After all, my job is to basically stay on social media. It’s not that glamourous nor easy of a job. A social media person needs to do quite a lot of things, which on the surface may seem like something that doesn’t take up too much time:

• Doing messaging calendars which mean scheduling messages in advance and/or getting client’s approval
• Getting other people to do your graphics
• Responding to users about your client’s brand
• Thinking up of ideas to get people to buy into your client’s message and branding
• Play/do things on FB like check out links etc

I am going to whine here, so stop reading if you don’t want to read anything depressing or self-entitled. Yes I am aware I am being an attention whore, but this is my own blog after all and I think I should be able to whine.

Read the rest of this entry »

Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.

And turn away all possible fans.

As a reader, I’ve boycotted people like George RR Martin and Diana Galbadon for being horrible to their FANS. This is just an a writer being horrible to a reviewer. Yup, not ever reading her.

At least if I do go self-publish, I’ll know what NOT to do.

Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.

Things I am thankful for:

Friends who are extremely patient with me.
Family who don’t take shit from other family members.
My grandmother being alive.
That I am still alive.

Oh, and that stuff at the top? That’s what we basically say on Plurk when we’re about to start ranting, so please, feel free to ignore the rest of this post.

Read the rest of this entry »

Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.

I happened to read this post from the Merch Girl’s blog before I read Haris Ibrahim’s take on a dead Hindu man who was declared a Muslim at the last minute.

The first emotion that came to me was rage. I’m VERY angry at the way those in the position of power will attempt to do anything and everything they can to get money. That, and the fact that according to most of these “Muslims” there needs to be NO sensitivity spared for those mourning the loss of their beloved.

It is as though to these people, that a bereaving family does not deserve to be treated like human beings because they are not humans. That it’s perfectly fine to submit flimsy pieces of evidence (a conversion cert that did not even match the signature of the deceased!) and call that person a Muslim. Did I mention that these monsters also thought it fit to take away a BREAST-FEEDING CHILD FROM HER MOTHER because she was “of the wrong religion” and needed rehabilitation?

I’m sick of being treated like a second-class citizen because some people associate the idea of “Official Religion” with superiority. That debate is halted because calling into question the way Islam is treated in this country is an insult to that religion.

I’m sick of being told what to say, and what I cannot. I’m tired of being insulted. I’m so tired of watching my country get stolen despite the fact that we voted. I’m tired of racists who insist that I must recognise myself as a Malaysian first, but yet insist that they are Malays first before the country.

I’m sick of people who don’t know their jobs trying to tell me what to do. I hate that lies are so common here in Malaysia. That daughters, sisters and mothers who need safety are treated like animals to satisfy animals.

I’m tired of being ignored because I am a woman. I’m tired of watching my sisters be attacked because they are women, and they are women with powerful voices.

I will NOT remain silent. I WILL remember. I WILL SPEAK. I will WRITE. It is the only thing I can do.

Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.

Dear clients

We have been waiting for you to send us the amendments since this morning. We have also informed you that we go home at six. We are not your slaves. Do not expect us to treat your products with the respect *you* think your products deserve if you cannot even do the same.

We should not have to chase you for YOU to keep your own deadlines. Please do not make promises you cannot keep. It’s a reflection of your own work ethics and how you handle your personal life.

We believe in your product. We truly believe that the product you have IS as good as you claim it is. However, bear in mind it’s hard not to be seen as hypocritical when you cannot deliver what YOU have promised to us.

Please, for the love of God (as far as I know you believe in that God) send us the things we need as you promised. Your flip flops only does injustice to the great product that you have.

With no love
Me.

Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.

Wow. 10 minutes after she left the room, my mom had to come back and give me a lecture about how messy it is. She can’t quite understand how she, a neat freak, ended up having two children who really don’t care what condition their room is as long as they can navigate from point A to point B without poking their eyes or tripping over things.

One of the reasons I keep my room messy is so that my Mom cannot find my things. It’s a leftover relic from days when I’m pretty sure she started going through my stuff as a teenager. I think all mothers do that, whether they want to admit it or not. It would certainly explain some of the things I know my mom wouldn’t have own otherwise. It’s much harder to replicate a messy room when you know where everything is, than it would be to replicate a clean room. Trust me, I’ve been there.

In a weird, twisted way, this is my revenge on her. I don’t feel like I have control over my life with her around. Or even with my father. I understand they worry, but seriously, move on already, won’t you? You’ve already done enough damage by destroying TWO relationships. I suppose if I ask my mom to arrange my marriage, she’ll be all over herself.

And in case you’re wondering, opening up to her is NOT an option. She wants to hear what she wants to hear, and she really refuses to even try coming from my point of view. Talking to her is often an exercise in futility about my friends. I know she’s proud of me, but at the same time she’s also ashamed. She expects me to be something I don’t want to be.

The sad thing is, I understand where she comes from. She has no real friends to speak of, and her behaviour is highly regulated by what she thinks my dad will or will not approve. She’s disappointed by the choices she’s made in life and how they’ve turned out; at 25, I’m still living in the house instead of being happily married to someone and bearing grandchildren for her. At 22, my brother is still leeching off them, and planning to get married to a Sabah girl my parents have never met.

At the end of the day, I think the issue is trust. I cannot trust my mother not to hurt me again, and she cannot trust her daughter to follow her.

Original entry as appearing at Broken Shield and Sword.