X for CHANGE

Be it Facebook or Twitter or any other media, the one thing that never fails to be mentioned, the one topic that constantly hogs headlines and timelines every single day would be POLITICS. 

Ruling party or opposition, they each jostle for the mic and when they do get their 5 minutes of fame, they do any of these three things; which is to take credit for anything that goes right, shift the blame for anything that goes wrong or to narrate a horrifying  prediction of what may happen if the other party were to govern that would put even Nicodemus and the Mayans to shame.

Now, social media has made our lives a whole lot easier in the last couple of years. We see and hear things that we probably would not have if we had lived ages ago. The good, the bad and the ugly...we know it ALL. But KNOWING is only half the battle...what are we gonna SAY and DO about it? That's the million dollar question.

Well, if you're thinking, what's one tweet, one post...how can that change anything? You're right. It can't. But imagine this, 23 million tweets of "What happened to Altantuya? and Where is my tax money going?" or 23 million posts on the PM's FB page or even 23 million letters to newspapers...it takes millions to bring about change but it has to start with ONE.

So, what is ONE vote? It's a start...It's an action...We cannot control the outcome but we can ACT. 

All this time, our education, our upbringing has encouraged us to take conservative, safe approaches...to take a neutral, moderate viewpoint...to go with the flow, to stick with what you know...

But maybe the time has come to, in Robert Frost's words, to take the road less travelled. Maybe, it's time to digress from the usual comfortable path, take a risk, make a stand and pick a side! Maybe, it's time to take all we KNOW and DO something about it.

Maybe, it's time for change...

So, what is ONE vote? It's a 2-second act of determining our future. It's a 2-second act of marking an X for Change.

Goodbye Charles... Goodbye Keith...

One early Sunday Morning  in 2011

"Hey I think I left my bag in the car...with my purse in it...is it safe?" asking my (then) boyfriend

"Trust in humanity sayang..." says he...

MINUTES LATER...

"Is that your car with the broken window??" me, sounding semi-hysterical...

Apparently it was. Someone had broken the car window and stolen my bag which contained my cherished Esprit umbrella, my Body Shop lip balm and the most felt, my one-week old Charles & Keith purse which will always hold a special place in my heart for not staying long enough...

For once in my life, I wasn't crying incessantly or cursing the thief to eternal damnation nor was I praying that I'd get an instant miracle and I'll get my things immediately (all of the above has never been proven to work and yet I never fail to jump from one emotion to another, regret, rage and hope...). But this time, surprisingly, I felt nothing!

It could have been the self-help books that am reading now as part of my job requirements or maybe I just grew up...I don't know...but somehow I kept thinking of the incident and the thief...and I kept thinking only one thing, just one question which I couldn't grasp the answer to...

"Why did they do it?"

Why? Was it the lure of potential riches? Although I do not think that my RM 60 can be considered as riches.

Was it the temptation of adrenaline rushing through the veins when rules are broken and the law is flouted?

Or was it just a sadistic, masochistic desire to deprive others of their belongings (and peace of mind)?

What was running in their minds? 

CSI? MLT...M-MAP!

Acronyms...Acronyms...

Everyone seems to have one to define them...to identify them...MBBS, MD, Ir., PJA, SPGP, SSM, SMN, PMN, Y.B., Y.A.B., et cetera, et cetera...Some denotes profession, some titles and some awards...

I have my own set of acronyms myself! 

When I was 5, I was PiTB - Short for Pain in The Butt. If my darling brother wants to know how his LEGO pieces ended behind the cupboard, that was me...(coz he never shared!)

When I was 10, I was ECNG - English-speaking, Cocky New Girl  where only one other person in the whole school, understood my sarcasm enough to hate me...Owh and that was my sister.

By 15, I was BBW - Bespectacled, Book Worm. (I still am...except now I wear lenses). 

3 years later at 18, I was DaSaSfSTPM - Depressed and Suicidal and Sitting for STPM

At 23, I was IL - In Love

When I graduated at 24, I wanted to be CSI (Crime Scene Investigator) but I could only be MLT (Medical Lab Technician) so I joined M-MAP (Maxis Management Associate Programme) and became an MA (Management Associate).

Yesterday I graduated. So, I lost an acronym. Not an MA (Management Associate) anymore. 

No choice but to be content with just being mrs. Lee Yin Jong, SPAD (Self-proclaimed adorable daughter) of my parents, AS (Awesome Sister) to my siblings and WTF (Well-meaning, Trustworthy, Faithful) to my friends...

Now and Always,
SNK (Seemingly Normal Kid)

Whatever!

My double tall, wet, vanilla latte tasted nothing of the extra espresso shot, had more foam than shaving cream and didn't even have a whiff of vanilla...But I had left the store... it took too much time and effort to go back and get my drink re-done and so, I walked away with my (imperfect) drink. Well whatever! Next time it'll be better. Did it get better? Yep...only when one day I decided to take the time and effort and go back to the counter and request for it to be re-made to order. Worth the hassle? Yep...to the last drop. The price of the latte, RM 10.

A prominent coffee house promised an organiser for every 15 drinks purchased. I made 15 purchases and went to claim my 'free' gift but was told that it was out of stock. I walked away with an unfulfilled promise. Well whatever! I'll get it at a different store. Did I? Yep...only after writing emails to the Malaysian Customer Service, the American Counterpart (franchiser) and posting on the Facebook wall of the local store and the American Store. The price of the organiser (by number of drinks), about RM 150.

I bought a house and obtained a loan from a local branch of an International Bank. They failed to disburse the funds on time and I incurred late fee charges. I was assured by the bank that it would be returned. Well whatever! The bank will sort it out. Did they? Yep...only after multiple visits to the bank manager, countless emails and phone calls and finally a letter to the newspaper got me my money back. The amount, about RM 835.

For every time I stood up and demanded what was rightfully mine, there were countless other times that I just chose to turn a blind eye and walk away. Why? Well, it's just a few Ringgit. Not worth my time, not to mention the effort. But, I'm not the only one. Everyone has done it at some point of their lives. 

We have meals at swanky restaurants but when they get the orders wrong or deliver food late...well whatever! At least I got it...eventually...Why waste time filling in the feedback form?

We pay TNB and water bills monthly but when there are the occasional disruption in power and water supply, well whatever! it's just a day...Why waste the time and effort to write-in an official complaint?

We pay our taxes, but when it's blatantly misused...well whatever! It's not only my pockets their digging into...why waste time speaking up about it?

Well, one day, it's going to be more than just a few Ringgit, one day, it might just be something personal...a waiter mixes up the order and serves peanuts to my peanut-allergic daughter, a corrupt politician who signs my rights away in parliament or even a poorly managed power supply that burns out on the night of Downton Abbey and Suits (O...the horror!)

One day, the 'whatever!' attitude is going to come back to haunt me...and it will be too late to make reparations then.

So, I'm going to fill in that feedback form, send that email, write that letter and speak out when things are not right...and I'm going to do it NOW!

It's not for the money...It's for my rights!

The Lighthouse

Back in first year of college, I usually sat in the 3rd row from the front of the lecture hall. There was this boy who takes 2 steps at a time down to the front and always sits on the 2nd row. In fact, I never needed to check where the lecture was held; I just needed to see where he was sitting to know. He was like the lighthouse that I navigated by.

As years went by, I moved further and further away from the front rows that by the third year of my course, I always sat at the back. There were some subjects (totally unrelated to my course) that came naturally to me. Then, there were others (related to my course) that despite all my efforts, always appeared to be a cryptic code that I could never decipher.

That boy who sat in the 2^nd row? Well, we had a ‘falling-out’ somewhere in second year, simply because he wouldn’t borrow me his homework to copy. What a scrooge?! I thought to myself that if he ever needed my notes or homework, I would definitely not lend it to him. But of course, that day would never come since I never took notes or do my homework before the eleventh hour.

Somewhere in my third year, I shared more classes with this ‘boy’ and I got to know that he wasn’t a scrooge, he just had his principles (albeit weird ones). I also got to know that we shared nothing in common. Absolutely nothing! We happened to take Spanish lessons, to which he drove me to. In return of the favour, he tortured me awake in the wee hours of the morning to play tennis (if that’s what you call it when one person throws the ball and the other misses - to my defence, I was sleepy!) and when that failed, he threw pebbles at my window to wake me from my afternoon nap to go jogging (very slowly). Finally, he resorted to teaching me the guitar (or trying to anyway).

We fought about everything. The radio station, fashion, how we chose to complete our homework and etcetera, etcetera…but we spoke a lot too, about our families, ideas on a relationship, views on a random topic…

I wasn’t going to fall for him. At least, I did not intend to, until he asked me out for a concert, pushed a random guy who came to close and gently flicked away a strand of hair falling over my face with his fingers.

One week later, he proposed.

It’s nearly four years now. We still argue about everything. We still talk about everything. A steady light that has guided me through all my rough patches in life and shared my happy moments, he is still and always will be the lighthouse that I navigate by.

One Full Circle

I was decked in a pink and frilly dress with a hairband to match. It was one of those rare occasions that makeup was allowed on 7- and 10-year-olds…but I don’t remember much from that day…the little that I do remember consisted of the can-can (net-like material that makes dresses poufy) digging through my skin, my lips almost plastered together by the lipstick and stumbling on the tarmac to land on my face, hands and knees and ripping through my panty-hose in the process.

It was my first-ever experience of walking down the aisle.

It was my uncle’s wedding. I was one of the flower girls. My cousins were page boys and my brother was the ring-bearer (more like pillow bearer since he never saw the rings until the end) who led the procession.

Almost 18 years have passed. In 4 months, come 17 November 2012, I will be walking down the aisle myself. But this time I won’t be in front. My dress will be white. Not pink and definitely not frilly. I will be exchanging the hairband for a veil. I hope not to stumble and land on my perfectly made-up face or satin-gloved hand.

I will have a procession of my own. It will be led by a 1-year old, the daughter of my brother the ring-bearer. She will be joined by my uncle’s daughters and son, the same uncles for whom I once walked down the aisle for. The flower girls who once walked with me are now married and would be watching from the pews. My cousins, the page boys would be the men who would help to usher the guests.

We have come one full circle now, have we not?

Butterfly Fly Away...

If you like something, you gotta let it go...and if it is meant for you, it will find its way back...or something like that I've heard...

But really, if you really liked something, why let it go in the first place?

Take for example, dreams...if you wanted to be a doctor, but for some reason had to let that dream go, twenty or thirty years down the road will you be able to do it? You may have the opportunity but will you? Can you?

So, isn't it better, if we had something we like, to just grab on to it, hold on tight and never let it go...and even if it still escapes somehow, we can still say 'at least I tried...very hard'

I guess, at the end of the day, whether we hold on to it or let it go depends on one question...

Is it worth it?