Tagged by Miss F a while ago, so here goes...
1) I organize my money according to its order, RM1, followed by RM5 and so on... right side up. Foreign notes go in a different compartment altogether. I will take the time to straighten the creases on them even if it takes me an extra minute on the counter and another buyer is tapping his/her fingers patiently waiting for his/her turn behind me. I also always get rid of the ugly ones first and in case of an unfortunate event whereby I receive a taped-together/torn/stained Ringgit note, I try to hide it beneath other notes during payment in case of rejection.
2) I do a little dance before and sometimes after I shower if I'm not rushing off to somewhere. Don't ask me why I do it and definitely do not ask whether I dance naked or in my towels. Too much info will be a lot of weirdness for you to handle. Hahah. (Please don't have any mental images of me skipping around in my towel!)
3) I like staying home alone. No, it's not that I like isolating myself from people or because I don't like having people over but there's a certain purifying calmness of getting to do whatever you like without having people judge you. That also includes dancing as well as running up and down the stairs stark naked. Very liberating. Don't even try to make me feel scared of being home alone, I'm more macho than you think! *smirk2!*
4)I like ogling at pretty girls. My toast has to be evenly spread all the way to its 4 corners. On a totally unrelated note, I also cannot sleep without having washed my feet, it makes me... restless.
5) I occasionally talk to myself, especially when I'm driving... alone. It's the time where I put my mental scripts verbally. It can be very gratifying especially when you have so many unresolved issues and don't feel like telling anyone about it. A few tears may also apply. I also found out that my brother does this too, worse... I caught him at it. Hahah. Now I wonder if it's a trait we got from one of our parents that we don't know about.. and never will? Damn, that'd be VERY weird.
6) I cannot study with music playing unless it's clasical/baroque. But I can study while watching TV. How weird is that? Maybe because I'm better with visuals. Oops! Too much info? Hahah!
1) I organize my money according to its order, RM1, followed by RM5 and so on... right side up. Foreign notes go in a different compartment altogether. I will take the time to straighten the creases on them even if it takes me an extra minute on the counter and another buyer is tapping his/her fingers patiently waiting for his/her turn behind me. I also always get rid of the ugly ones first and in case of an unfortunate event whereby I receive a taped-together/torn/stained Ringgit note, I try to hide it beneath other notes during payment in case of rejection.
2) I do a little dance before and sometimes after I shower if I'm not rushing off to somewhere. Don't ask me why I do it and definitely do not ask whether I dance naked or in my towels. Too much info will be a lot of weirdness for you to handle. Hahah. (Please don't have any mental images of me skipping around in my towel!)
3) I like staying home alone. No, it's not that I like isolating myself from people or because I don't like having people over but there's a certain purifying calmness of getting to do whatever you like without having people judge you. That also includes dancing as well as running up and down the stairs stark naked. Very liberating. Don't even try to make me feel scared of being home alone, I'm more macho than you think! *smirk2!*
4)
5) I occasionally talk to myself, especially when I'm driving... alone. It's the time where I put my mental scripts verbally. It can be very gratifying especially when you have so many unresolved issues and don't feel like telling anyone about it. A few tears may also apply. I also found out that my brother does this too, worse... I caught him at it. Hahah. Now I wonder if it's a trait we got from one of our parents that we don't know about.. and never will? Damn, that'd be VERY weird.
6) I cannot study with music playing unless it's clasical/baroque. But I can study while watching TV. How weird is that? Maybe because I'm better with visuals. Oops! Too much info? Hahah!
So I was taking a break from the neverending lab report writing and midterm-exam studying. Watched a little TV, surfed online a bit plus a lil cellphone fondling and finally grabbed a mini box of those Sun-maid raisins to munch on while idly channel-surfing.
Just as I popped in the last raisin into my mouth, I noticed the wordings on the box's tab. The one you lift to reach for the raisins.
It somehow knowingly spelled out,
"Do your homework first, play later."
DAMN! Right at my face.
No matter how humble or ancient, a leather dress shoe that has been looked after and buffed to a deep shine indicates virtue. A man who looks after his shoes is symbolically looking after the foundations of his life, and in my books is worthy of a certain measure of trust and esteem, or at least the benefit of the doubt.
Beware the man who shows off his expensive clothes but who can’t be bothered to keep his shoes clean. There is some fundamental dishonesty at work there, a lack of integrity and discipline that suggests he shouldn’t be marrying your sister, whether or not you have one.
If you read The Star newspaper several weeks ago, this is an excerp of Huz1r Sula1man's writing "A Shining Example" that reminds me so much of my dear father.
My father is a man who takes great pride in his shoes. If there is one thing you should get the best of, it is shoes and my father is the man when it comes to it. At the young age of 4 and 5 (I tell you it's a wonder how much I can recall at that age, even my mom is astounded), I remember the moment my father would start spreading out sheets of newspaper and placing his shoes on top of them, it was certainly a clear indication of what he was about to do; polish and shine his shoes.
He would sit cross-legged on the floor with his shoes all lined up in front of him and then carefully, he would dip a piece of used cloth and start shining his treasured posession one by one, pair by pair making sure not to miss a single spot. His shoes would end up sparkling shiny after the vigorous brushing he applied on to them. I don't know why but I was always amazed by his diligence to polish and shine his shoes consistently and the unusual way he buffed them, at least to me. It was always done with such intensity and practically brought up to his face in a myriad of angles making me wonder if the same result would show if it was buffed any other way.
Even before I started school, I had a crazy fetish for everything red, right down to the bottom of my existence; my shoes. My first proper shoes were a pair of burgundy, patent leather, classic Clarks and my father had bought a special shoe shine just for my red darlings. It was the only pair of shoe in the household then that required red shoe shine. I always used to squat by watching him do his thing. Sometimes when my inquisitive side kicked in and I tried poking my little finger and meddle with his job, I'd get a little scolding coz he didn't want me to stain my fingers. Not that I really cared then.
In 1st Grade after I grew out of those pair and a couple of non-red ones, my eyes laid on a bright red pair of dress shoes that carried me to school everyday. Paired with my red hair accessory, red top, red everything (heck I was even in Red Team then!), I proudly carried myself to class. What bothered me was when I wore white frilled socks, sometimes the excess of red shoe shine on the edges would rub on to my socks causing a permanent stain. In the mornings when it was time to pick out socks for school, I would always avoid picking out the stained ones eventhough my mom would say they wouldn't show.
By then, my mom too had already owned a pair of red pumps and my dad would take out his collection of shoe shines and begin his shoe shining activity on weekends with an increasing line of shoes waiting for his service.
On a few occasions, when my dad sent his shoes for mending at the cobbler's, the dude would slap his head in exasperation saying, "If all my customers like you aaaa, saya mati loh!" My dad had sent off his old Clarks he had gotten even before marrying my mom. That would make a pretty old two decade worn out pair of shoes. The leather pair had begun to tear and season with its soles barely there. Yet, he was still persistent that it was still in good shape and with a little fixing, it'd be as good as new.
That's my father and his shoe-shining hobby. Except these days, he'd get one of us to do it for him. His free time is now spent with us rather than shining his beauties. We know our skills will never be up to par with his but at least he trusts us to shine his Hermès' and Ferragamo's. Hopefully one day, this habit would rub on to the rest of us siblings and shoes won't just be for dress-ups and an accessory to match our clothes but like Huz1r clearly said, that the state of one's shoe defines one's moral.
My father is a man who takes great pride in his shoes. If there is one thing you should get the best of, it is shoes and my father is the man when it comes to it. At the young age of 4 and 5 (I tell you it's a wonder how much I can recall at that age, even my mom is astounded), I remember the moment my father would start spreading out sheets of newspaper and placing his shoes on top of them, it was certainly a clear indication of what he was about to do; polish and shine his shoes.
He would sit cross-legged on the floor with his shoes all lined up in front of him and then carefully, he would dip a piece of used cloth and start shining his treasured posession one by one, pair by pair making sure not to miss a single spot. His shoes would end up sparkling shiny after the vigorous brushing he applied on to them. I don't know why but I was always amazed by his diligence to polish and shine his shoes consistently and the unusual way he buffed them, at least to me. It was always done with such intensity and practically brought up to his face in a myriad of angles making me wonder if the same result would show if it was buffed any other way.
Even before I started school, I had a crazy fetish for everything red, right down to the bottom of my existence; my shoes. My first proper shoes were a pair of burgundy, patent leather, classic Clarks and my father had bought a special shoe shine just for my red darlings. It was the only pair of shoe in the household then that required red shoe shine. I always used to squat by watching him do his thing. Sometimes when my inquisitive side kicked in and I tried poking my little finger and meddle with his job, I'd get a little scolding coz he didn't want me to stain my fingers. Not that I really cared then.
In 1st Grade after I grew out of those pair and a couple of non-red ones, my eyes laid on a bright red pair of dress shoes that carried me to school everyday. Paired with my red hair accessory, red top, red everything (heck I was even in Red Team then!), I proudly carried myself to class. What bothered me was when I wore white frilled socks, sometimes the excess of red shoe shine on the edges would rub on to my socks causing a permanent stain. In the mornings when it was time to pick out socks for school, I would always avoid picking out the stained ones eventhough my mom would say they wouldn't show.
By then, my mom too had already owned a pair of red pumps and my dad would take out his collection of shoe shines and begin his shoe shining activity on weekends with an increasing line of shoes waiting for his service.
We are, after all, the sum not of our beliefs but of our irrational prejudices. One of my own deepest held prejudices – a cornerstone of my whole worldview – is that the state of a man’s shoes is not an aesthetic issue, but a moral one.My father would never compromise when it comes to shoes. He always bought us the best he could afford and would take the extra effort in taking great care of them. In 1st Grade, for two consecutive rayas, he bought me the exact same pair of gorgeous, black, patent leather Bally dress shoes when I grew out of the first pair he bought. Honestly, I wasn't all that girlish then and would rather stick to my shorts, t-shirts and sport shoes. The beautiful pair hardly looked worn except for slight creases. I eventually gave it away to my cousin... with great sadness eventhough I hardly wore it.
On a few occasions, when my dad sent his shoes for mending at the cobbler's, the dude would slap his head in exasperation saying, "If all my customers like you aaaa, saya mati loh!" My dad had sent off his old Clarks he had gotten even before marrying my mom. That would make a pretty old two decade worn out pair of shoes. The leather pair had begun to tear and season with its soles barely there. Yet, he was still persistent that it was still in good shape and with a little fixing, it'd be as good as new.
That's my father and his shoe-shining hobby. Except these days, he'd get one of us to do it for him. His free time is now spent with us rather than shining his beauties. We know our skills will never be up to par with his but at least he trusts us to shine his Hermès' and Ferragamo's. Hopefully one day, this habit would rub on to the rest of us siblings and shoes won't just be for dress-ups and an accessory to match our clothes but like Huz1r clearly said, that the state of one's shoe defines one's moral.
Huz1r's piece can be read here.
We all have some sort of plan laid out in our course of life... but plans alter along the way. I can't remember how many changes I've had to make no matter how little the adjustments have been to accommodate certain diverted choices, unforseen circumstances, people and so on. Some I gladly modified, some changed simply because I had to.
Plan A didn't exactly work out for me neither did Plan B. I could go up to Plan N for naz but I just like the sound of Plan C Modified. Heheh. It makes me sound less fickle and that I made better alterations to my life. Kodi tak?
Anyways, one of the best piece of advice I received was to not dwell on the past, move on because if you don't... others will. Keep the good memories and learn from the bad ones. While people around you grasp on to bigger things, you are left stagnant in your own thoughts. No one needs that or should even be doing that.. well not too long. Beautiful memories are made when you live life not when you sit around sulking and hating everybody.
I stumbled quite a number of times (still do) and fell flat on my face on a few other occasions that will probably scar me for life. But I allow myself to grieve for a moment (you gotta give yourself that at least for what it's worth!), not necessarily easier done than said but it's important to know when enough is enough. Friends and family will motion their hands to give you a hand but it's up to you to take it. If you don't help yourself up, no one will. Some will even rub it in your face when you're hardest hit. That's when you know who your true friends are. Live the life you want and you know you deserve. You'll always make new friends along the way, new lovers you'll learn to love (don't make a long listlah oke!) and new dreams to achieve.
Bottomline is, plans are merely plans. You can be ambitious and hardworking, you can settle for comfortable, or whatever, wherever and whomever it is that makes you happy. You can make yourself believe those picture perfect moments are real, the friends you have are genuine, the job post you hold is everything and your significant other is the center of your universe and things can't get any worse or any better than what you already have and own.
But at a certain point... what gives is what He has decided.
And that is the ultimate plan. You have no choice but to make the best of it.
(REPEAT TO SELF)
Plan A didn't exactly work out for me neither did Plan B. I could go up to Plan N for naz but I just like the sound of Plan C Modified. Heheh. It makes me sound less fickle and that I made better alterations to my life. Kodi tak?
Anyways, one of the best piece of advice I received was to not dwell on the past, move on because if you don't... others will. Keep the good memories and learn from the bad ones. While people around you grasp on to bigger things, you are left stagnant in your own thoughts. No one needs that or should even be doing that.. well not too long. Beautiful memories are made when you live life not when you sit around sulking and hating everybody.
I stumbled quite a number of times (still do) and fell flat on my face on a few other occasions that will probably scar me for life. But I allow myself to grieve for a moment (you gotta give yourself that at least for what it's worth!), not necessarily easier done than said but it's important to know when enough is enough. Friends and family will motion their hands to give you a hand but it's up to you to take it. If you don't help yourself up, no one will. Some will even rub it in your face when you're hardest hit. That's when you know who your true friends are. Live the life you want and you know you deserve. You'll always make new friends along the way, new lovers you'll learn to love (don't make a long listlah oke!) and new dreams to achieve.
Bottomline is, plans are merely plans. You can be ambitious and hardworking, you can settle for comfortable, or whatever, wherever and whomever it is that makes you happy. You can make yourself believe those picture perfect moments are real, the friends you have are genuine, the job post you hold is everything and your significant other is the center of your universe and things can't get any worse or any better than what you already have and own.
But at a certain point... what gives is what He has decided.
And that is the ultimate plan. You have no choice but to make the best of it.
(REPEAT TO SELF)
