A necessary falsehood.

"When you don't know where or how to begin, then just write anything that comes to mind. The inspiration will come. Slow and late, but it will come. You can't force creativity."

So here I am, following my Newswriting lecturer's advice.

I got a little too eager in my sharing of personal experiences a fortnight ago.

Somehow the small talk in the meeting room on that day revolved around hospitals--government hospitals, to be specific--that and how they are actually very good, if not for the number of patients they are flooded with to the point of overflowing. More demand than supply.

So, when I shared about my experience in one of such hospitals, I was barely even scratching the surface. The mistake I made though, was telling the story from a patient's point of view instead of a visitor's. It led to the dreaded question coming from my boss: "What happened? How did you end up there?"

By the time I realized I'd made the wrong move, it was already too late.

The hasty answer I'd given--stress and exhaustion--was too simple, too vague and completely false.

PTSD triggers here.

What actually happened was this: Night out was over. My turn to be dropped off. The brothers thought I'd fallen asleep on the way home. As always, one would accompany me all the way to the elevator of my apartment--but that didn't happen. They couldn't wake me up. Not that I have been drinking myself senseless--the cocktails I had were all virgin. Yet I was unresponsive.

I woke up in the ER gagging on an OPA.

I did mention something to the boss about "almost literally dropping dead", in a seemingly-joking manner. There was nothing humorous about this at all.

Any diagnosis with "idiopathic" in it is an annoying one. In my case, it was idiopathic arrhythmia. An abnormality with an unknown cause.

It plagued me for the next two years. It still happens sometimes, minor episodes that can easily be stopped. As long as it doesn't escalate to the intensity it had in those crazy two years, it shouldn't be too hard to manage.

Damn PTSD triggers.

So yes, it was a necessary falsehood. There are some things that I totally feel uncomfortable talking about with people I'm not really close to, and this is one of them. It's too personal, and even now, I'm barely even scratching the surface in this post.

Note to self: Be careful what you share next time. Questions can kill you.

Nawaitu.

Say: "Truly my prayers, my service of devotion, my life and my death, are all for God, the Ruler of the Universe."

~Al-An'am, Verse 162~

Not for my boss, not for the company. Not for my family, my loved ones--and much less me.

Everything, lillahi rabbil 'alamin.

I should stop re-thinking and re-pondering what and who all these things are for. The answer to that question has been clear all along.

Then hopefully, and I truly hope so, everything else will fall into place.

Muhasabah realiti.

Malam semalam aku terlebih emosi. Rindu pula pada dia. Lebih daripada biasa.

Langsung tak diundang, tetapi lagu ini tiba-tiba terngiang di telinga.

Kata orang, apa yang bermain di fikiran itu, kalau ia tidak diundang, barangkali itu adalah ilham dari-Nya. Mungkin juga itu suara hati, yang ingin sekali menyuruh kita berhenti sejenak supaya dia boleh berbicara.

Bila difikirkan kembali, semacam lama benar aku sudah tak menghabiskan masa dengan hatiku sendiri. Bos baru, kerja baru, tanggungjawab baru. Tak hairanlah kalau diri aku ini rindu dengan diri aku sendiri.

Baiklah. Layankan sahaja. Kasihan dia.

Aku amati bait-bait lagu itu. Lagu lama, keluaran empat tahun yang lalu.

Dan aku amati pula perjalanan hidupku. Perjalanan aku dan dia.

Maka bermulalah muhasabah realiti. Setiap jengkal, hasta dan depa. Setiap kaki dan inci, habis aku teroka.

Kebenaran itu kadangkala menyakitkan. Perit dan pedih rasanya.

Realitinya terang lagi bersuluh. Aku melengahkan kekecewaan yang pasti. Mat saleh kata, delaying the inevitable. Menghambat diri dari bergerak ke hadapan, dek kerana takut akan apa yang menanti.

Pegun. Statik. Momentum sifar, jadi pecutannya juga sifar. Dalam kata lain, memang langsung tiada hala tuju. Tapi benarkah begitu?

Mungkin ada benarnya. Cinta tak pernah punya peluang dalam perjalanan hidupku. Tak pernah diberi kesempatan untuk bertapak. Adapun dia cuma mampu singgah sebentar. Menemaniku sebentar, dan kemudian berlalu pergi. Tempatnya bukan di sini. Tidak cukup ruang untuk dikongsi. Silapnya di mana, aku pun tak pasti.

Sang biduan mendendangkan soalan yang perit untukku jawab:

Bisakah kau berdiri

tanpaku di sisimu lagi?

Bisakah kau sendiri

mengubati luka di hati?

Jadi, bisakah aku?

Aku yakin dia pasti mampu. Dia adiwira gagah perkasa. Indah budi bicara. Ilmu penuh di dada dan minda. Kacak dan tampan juga. Teramatlah mudah mencari pengganti. Sekarang pun seperti sudah panjang 'senarai menunggu'. Menantiku hilang, memadamkan diri dari lembaran hidupnya yang terlalu jauh beza dari corak dan gaya catatanku.

Dia mampu. Aku pula? Rasanya tak perlu aku andaikan.

Aku berfikir kali kedua. Kemungkinan besar ini bukan bicara hati.

Mungkin ini isyarat-Nya. Babak sudah habis. Padamkan layar dan labuhkan tirainya. Masa untuk bersurai.

Wind back the clock.

Watched The Theory of Everything earlier today--finally.

Wow, what a story. And Eddie Redmayne totally deserved that Oscar.

Now I can go back to drafting that training module in peace.

Business English for Dummies, you need to meet your deadline.

Hooked on this show!

Watched this as a temporary fix before the new season of Game of Thrones goes on air. Didn't know it was gonna be equally as good.

The series is based on ancient Scandinavian text about the Danish King Ragnar Lothbrok, so yeah. Points for historical elements. I could use some non-fictional entertainment for a change. LOL.

And Ragnar. I love that name. Ragnar, derived from Ragnarok. Norse mythology fascinates me even more compared to its Greek and Roman counterparts. In short, I love Vikings. I love their culture, their stories, their deities. I especially love their funerals.

Perhaps I'm just a sucker for blond hair and blue eyes.

Or not.

Doped up at work.

This town needs more 24-hour clinics.

I am fortunate enough to have access to one a very short drive from home. You'll never know when you suddenly need to get an ailment looked at after-hours, which was exactly the case for me last night.

I've been on a liquid diet for the past couple of days because it hurts really bad whenever I swallow. I'm currently recovering from an infection which had me shivering under the covers despite the fact that I was clocking in nearly 39 degrees on the thermometer. Muscular aches, headaches, weakness, loss of appetite--the whole shebang. Surprisingly enough, no flu-like symptoms. No runny nose, sneezing or the sniffles. Just one hell of an elevated temperature and pain whenever I move. I'm the third one in the household to get this after my grandmother and my mother, all in the span of a single week.

The idiot that I am, I went to work anyway. Much to take care of before I officially leave the organization. Being stationed at the beachside property means I will never make it to my family GP in time before he closes up for the day, so I decided to go to one of the 24-hour establishments.

The diagnosis? I've got swollen lymph nodes -- which is totally expected -- and very inflamed tonsils. Yes, my tonsils are the culprits behind the painful swallowing. Well, not exactly. The infection I'm currently recovering from has caused the inflammation of my tonsils, which in turn gave me one hell of a bad day because I couldn't freaking eat.

So now I'm on a course of antibiotics and (thankfully) stronger analgesic medication than my usual paracetamol, which leaves me pretty doped up and zombiefied over here at work. Zero occupancy, though. Today is my lucky day.

Pain, pain, go away. Come again another day. No, wait. Don't come back, like, ever.

Sigh. I'm craving spaghetti.

Ma nouvelle vie.

NOTE: This post was penned (literally) first, in the pages of my notebook. No access to the office PC, as the accountants were hijacking it from their offices (Audit period is a nightmare), and I was too tired to type everything out when I got home. Fortunately, I will no longer have to endure this come next month--and this post will tell you why.

Thursday, February 5 2015

Arrived to work at seven. Was assigned to an airport transfer half an hour later.

"Est-ce que vous etes francais? I notice you're speaking to each other in French," I asked them.

"Oh, yes! We're from Paris!" the wife replied.

And the conversation got very friendly. People say I have a knack for reeling complete strangers in and making them feel like they've already known me forever. Mulut manis, according to my elders. Sangat petah berbicara, according to my teachers. Funny how I never feel the same. In my mind, I'm always the awkward, shy kid with the grace of a bull in a china shop.

I dropped them off at Departures. Ended up with the biggest tip in my history with the hotel -- one hundred ringgit. I split it with the colleague when I got back. I heard him complain a few weeks back about how his family expenses were bleeding him dry, so I thought I should share.

The superior came in at noon. I cornered her in the office before she could glance at what was on the computer screen. I wanted her to deal with me first, before anything else.

"Yes, what's up?" she asked.

I took out a sheet of paper from my folder, then handed it to her. My resignation notice.

Cool as a cucumber. Just as I expected.

"So, when do you think we can do a farewell party for you?"

OK, I totally didn't expect that.

The conversation was longer than what we would usually have. This time, I did most of the talking. She was curious about where I'd be going. It ended with a promise to check my annual leave and public holiday claims.

As of March 2nd, I'll be starting at a different organization. Back to my original line of work. Writing, communications, public relations and teaching. Lots of teaching. It is, after all, a professional training firm. I am to be the director's personal assistant, as well as the Business Development Executive for the region. Sounds like a challenge--something I have desperately been craving.

So here's to my new job and my new office.

Yes, I will have an office. Not a cubicle, not a shared office space with only one PC -- but my very own office.

Of dream wardrobes.

"I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful."

~ Jenny Downham, Before I Die

Would that wishes like that could come true. Someday, perhaps, when pigs fly and hell freezes over. 

Cue out.

FYI, that new rule I just imposed, the others have you to thank for it.

Ah, the classiness. I'll just pretend I didn't hear you say it.

So it gets personal now, huh?

...

My shift's almost over, and tomorrow happens to be my day off. I've got one thing to rant about before I head home. Just a short rant, to relieve the stress.

Dear Superior,

You do not order your subordinate to call a third party and request a copy of an invoice you need to get your hands (or eyes) on by 5.00pm, at fucking 4.45. You were lucky I managed to get it on time. No one wants to entertain such a crazy request. Most would tell you to fuck off and wait until tomorrow.

That's it. Done.

Just a small bit of randomness.

I bruise easily

So be gentle when you handle me

There's a mark you leave

Like a love heart cut on a tree

I bruise easily

Can't scratch the surface without moving me underneath

I bruise easily...

~Natasha Bedingfield, I Bruise Easily~

One question: Is this a song for people with thrombocytopenic purpura?

Ana majnuna.

For the sake of one wish yet unfulfilled he thought but little of everything else that heaven had granted him. That is how human beings are made! If prayers remain unanswered, do we ever reflect that it may be for our good? We feel sure that we know our needs, yet the future is veiled from our eyes. The thread of our fate ends outside the visible world; and what today we mistake for a padlock keeping us out, we may tomorrow find to be a key that lets us in.

~ Nizami Ganjavi, The Story of Layla and Majnun

So sick of what I've been seeing on the news these recent days. Let's drown it out with a generous helping of epic poetry.

You know, after all the damage we've done to this world we're supposed to take care of, the notion of a second Great Deluge is very welcome indeed.

Janvier.

The initial plan was to go straight home, then sleep through the countdown.

That didn't happen.

Instead, I ended up on the hotel rooftop, lounging on a wicker chair, a glass (my second) of Malbec in my hand, discussing philosophy and global politics--at half an hour to midnight. Another guest who eventually became a friend, despite the fact that we just met the day before. I keep being told that I make really delightful company. The fact that my romantic relationships keep getting messed up is something I find utterly baffling.

I'd clocked out after the shift handover, then slipped quietly upstairs. So quietly that none of the colleagues would have known where I had gone. He referred to himself as M--"So you can pretend you're working for MI-6, Miss Bond". That came shortly after he commented on the somewhat unsettling nature of the topics we touched on. "You, my dear, are a very dangerous person."

His wit seemed to have a permanently-sharp edge. A quality I couldn't help but admire. That wit made me lose track of the minutes. Before we knew it, fireworks filled the sky with bursts of color and booming noise. Conversation was no longer possible, so we stood and watched the display in silence.

Fifteen minutes of silence, taking in the sights, the sounds and the oohs and aahs of two more guests who had joined us minutes earlier.

"Happy new year," he said, offering his hand for me to shake. 

"Happy new year, M," I reciprocated.

He reached for the Malbec. We'd emptied the bottle. Delicious to the last drop. It reminded me of night shifts with the best friend--sitcoms, figs, glasses of red, and not a single guest in-house. Definitely not employee-of-the-month material. Those were good times indeed.

My head throbbed. I'd totally forgotten about it. Three days, on-and-off, still no sign of it going away. A brief respite, yes--like the previous hour, but it would flare up again as soon as you thought it was finally coming to an end. A visit to the doctor's office appears to be in order. Let's just hope I could keep this red down long enough to avoid losing it to the sink.

Yes, the sink. Throwing up into porcelain thrones is just not my thing.

Another half hour of talking, then I called it a night. There was an intruder in my bedroom, hiding under the covers. My ears were assaulted by unbelievably shrill meowing. Unbelievable, because he can fit comfortably in my palms. A tiny thing, but loud as fuck. That's Obi-Wan for you. My little Padawan. I should change my name to Qui-Gon Jinn.

On normal days, I would chuck him into his box next to the fridge. This time, I let him purr me to sleep.

Bienvenue, Janvier!


P/S: This post was penned (yes, literally penned) on January 1st. Unfortunately, unlike most of you, I had to work on New Year's Day. Belated as it is, I'm still determined to make this the first ever post for 2015. Now that reminds me of one more thing. I need to submit that application form for my TESOL program.