That bittersweet pang...

The kind you feel in your heart.

My little girl is eating pizza out of the box. She is sick with the flu, her nose runny, her cheeks flushed. She coughs a little.

But she loves pizza.

Sitting there at the coffee table in front of the TV, in her frilly pink dress and red sweater, using her small hands to pick at the slice of chicken pepperoni extra cheese.

My heart skips another beat. Another pang.

Where I'd like to be- right now...

A random thought

I was happy to see you tonight. Mum told me you were back in town for the night- and I rushed to finish some things in the office, to brave the traffic jams. You were home. At last.

My heart warmed when I saw you. We don't talk much about us, you and I- but we find common ground in many things. We laughed a lot tonight- I told you how much I wanted a pair of Jimmy Choos. 

You were always a pest as a child. I hated how you would bully me and get away with things, just because you were the baby of the household. You were also impossibly cute as a toddler, with a huge gap between your teeth and cheeks like apples.

I guess I don't care now.

It's been quiet since you moved away.

In case I didn't say it: I guess I love you, baby brother. You're 31 years old, but you'll always be my little baby brother. 

It was like this...

I was sitting at a Starbucks cafe that day, having a mango passion frappucino after a long meeting with a client nearby: it was a hot evening, and I remember struggling to try to stay cool and sweat-free in my blazer. Truth be told, I'd rip that damned blazer off in an instant if I were home- but I was in public, I hated the idea of my fat, slumpy arms being exposed. So I suffered and perspired in silence, sipping my frappucino so quickly that it went straight to my head and I had momentary brain-freeze while my teeth yelped out in pain from the cold, ice-blended drink. 

I sighed in contentment as the mist fan swirled a cool breeze in my direction, and while I fanned myself with my hands, my index finger caught the tail end of my dangly earring. The earring promptly fell out, and the tiny beads dangling at the base of the earring frame broke, and I cursed to myself, thinking, I could probably make better-quality jewelry myself!

And then it hit me how ingenious I was. And why the hell not? I was a quick learner, I loved jewelry and had always wanted to learn how to make my own (so that I didn't have to spend money buying them anymore)... and just like that, I knew this was something I wanted to do- for myself. 

And so- Whim & Fancy was born, although, then, the name hadn't yet hit me. Simply because I had no idea things would come to this- a business of sorts. Little old me, a boring old solicitor, taking up a new hobby, something as exciting as making beaded jewelry! But that's it for you- what started out as a hobby and a determination to do something new for myself, has since become a full-blown love affair with beading and handmade jewelry- from the nights poring over YouTube and free DIY tutorials on the internet... to actually selling my handmade items now to people (gosh!) who actually think they're pretty!

It is amazing how a split-second decision changes your life.

New Year, New Shites

We've entered the second month of the new year... Traditionally, I make New Year's Resolutions every year, but this year, I decided not to. Because 1) I rarely keep to my resolutions; and 2) I think I'm old enough to start doing things that need to be done without having to make any resolutions... 

Without having to reveal completely my intentions, goals and aspirations for the year, these are the things so far that I will be doing for 2009- they were not originally part of my resolutions: but I've found a compelling desire to try something new this year, to provoke the senses and challenge my abilities. I'm sure these will be challenging enough.

1) Sign up for a beading class: This, I've done. My beading course runs this weekend for two consecutive days of 4 1/2 hours for each session. In fact, I've started beading some simple jewellery (mostly ear-rings) on my own, using online tutorials or how-tos as a reference and guide. I have been doing pretty well- and I'm beginning to get somewhat addicted to this new hobby. I've purchased quite a fair bit of material, the important ones being the tools, of course. Beads and gemstones are expensive, and so are good quality findings (ear wires, headpins, eyepins, etc). I thought that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right- so I invested some money in very good quality materials- not the stainless steel metal stuff you usually find in costume jewellery, and which can irritate skin: I invested in quality genuine sterling silver materials (imported from the US), Swarovski crystals, Czech seed and glass beads, Tibetan sterling beads, semi-precious gemstones, etc. At the same time, I also bought some slightly cheaper materials, to bring down the cost of items.

I really don't have any idea what I'm going to do with all the jewellery I've made. I may wear some of them myself- but mostly, I think of all the beautiful things and gifts I could make for my girlfriends, and I know they'd appreciate this a lot more, being handmade and all... Maybe, if I find enough courage and a general body of people who are interested, I may even sell them. We'll see. I'm just enjoying this for the time being.

2) Sign up for a professional slimming course: Done. This was at the behest of my father, who was tired of watching me go through my fad diets and numerous attempts to lose my post-pregnancy weight. It has been 3 years since I had my daughter, and I'm still struggling with the excess weight. I've done pretty well so far, I began the week before Chinese New Year and have dropped 2.5 kgs, without any exercise or excessive dieting. I'm trying to make a valiant effort to consume more liquids (water), and to make healthier choices in food. I've cut down on my intake of sugar, refined carbohydrates, excessive fat and oil, from my meals, and I feel the difference.

Of course, because I eat less, I invariably get hunger pangs and some dizzy spells, so I replenish my body with a lot of fluids (water or fresh fruit juices), and allow myself to eat some fruit. Once a day, though, I allow myself to eat what I want in moderation (carbohydrates, that is), and maybe indulge in some baked potato, or even french fries, or half a bowl of rice or noodles.

3) Make more serious attempts to write and get published: I'd always wanted to be a writer. I've written lots- short stories, poetry, a few stupid novels. I never feel like I'm good enough. This year, though, I decided to make a positive change and take some pro-active steps to do what I'd been afraid of for almost my entire life. I will attempt to get published- at least within the next 1-2 years. And the first step towards this goal: I will be signing up for a creative writing course with the Writers Bureau of the United Kingdom. I had a heart-to-heart talk with my father, and with his concurrence, I felt that this would prepare me for the potential obstacles a writer would face in the literary world. More to come on this...

4) Plan a girls' outing: Ever since I had got married, and then, had my daughter, my time with my girlfriends, and particularly, my BFF, has been limited. There was always the need to plan events around my daughter, the need to make sure I wouldn't be missed, that I could get some kind of help from either my husband or parents to watch her while I was away. This year, with daughter hitting the 4-year old mark in October, meant that I would be slightly more liberated to spend time with my girlfriends. A preliminary idea was to attend the Rainforest World Musical Festival in Sarawak in July together. Just a plan, but hopefully, one that will lead to fruition.

5) Strive for partnership in the firm: Enough said. All that comes to mind is, be a great leader, be organized, command respect and friendship. To stay focused on the goal and to remain confident at all times.

6) Do something completely outrageous (for myself): I'm still thinking of this...

So what happens now? These all seem like resolutions- but without according to them the dignity of the word "resolution", I am more completely at ease and don't feel like I'd be a failure if I never achieved these goals or aspirations. 

About the most idiotic thing I'd ever done

I deleted my own blog. Without thinking twice before I hit the “Enter” key. In my head, I only saw that I was deleting “From Flabulous to Fabulous”- a newborn blog I had started a few weeks ago, and then decided today that it was too tiring to go on chronicling. So I logged on to Blogger- and mind you, I have 3 separate blogs under this system.

In what I can only describe a moment or fit of insanity (or clouded judgment), I thought I had clicked “Delete this blog” in reference to “From Flabulous to Fabulous”. The sad truth was that I was deleting “The Rantings of the Ravenous Loving Retail Therapy”, a blog I had kept from 2006 and which was being updated on a regular basis- a familiar friend I sought comfort in. I took pains with “Rantings”, I customized music for it, I applied a beautiful new layout. In short, “Rantings” was the most regular blog I had kept, besides this one.

I realized the error after I got re-directed to the Dashboard, and saw “Flabulous” still there. Then it dawned on me- that I had killed my baby inadvertently. I’m heart-broken. I think of all the hard work I had put into “Rantings”. I know that I will NEVER be able to recover what is lost. Because of my careless stupidity, I had let go of a ‘friend’ who had been there for me- to vent, to write, to sing and dance and be happy or stupid or melancholic. 

I feel like crying now…

The Career Woman

Since I gave up being a rockstar, and made the transition to career woman (or so I’d like to think), I drifted from one firm to another. In the first 4 years of legal practice, I flitted between 3 firms: the first was where I did my pupillage (a 9-month-long practical of sorts, which would’ve driven me crazy had it not been for the fact that I met my  two BFFs there: J and C). They made things fun and bearable, and although I was not finally retained there (let’s say that my then-boss and I had some ‘issues’ and didn’t see eye-to-eye…), J and C are still the best friends I’ve known and we’re constantly in contact, seeing each other through trials and tribulations, heart-breaks, joy & happiness, marriage, pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood. These, I know, are the friends I will have for life.

Then I moved on to another big firm, where I spent 3 miserable years battling errant defaulters and the court system. I enjoyed the first year and a half, and then the nights at work got later and later, until one day, I decided I had had enough, and moved on to a lecturing position in a college. I lasted 6 months there, tendering my resignation after only 3 months for want of challenge- sure, I liked the laid-back lifestyle, I enjoyed nurturing younger minds and preparing them for the outside world, but I felt like I was made for more at that age, I was still young. It was back to legal practice after that, a horrid year at a firm where the partners were so tight-fisted and inconsiderate that they asked me if I was going to keep my baby when I announced my pregnancy, made me visit construction sites every weekend (with no extra pay nor extra leave days) until I was 8 months pregnant and rang me on my mobile while I was in labour because they needed to check something ‘urgent’ with me. For all my hard work and suffering, I was given a 300-dollar increment for the coming year and 2 months’ bonus. It was peanuts. I was fuming mad.

Then came Work Paradise. A friend passed on the word that so-and-so were hiring, and whether I was interested. This firm prided itself on hand-picking its lawyers by word of mouth or recommendation only. It was also a very young firm, only a year old. As destiny would have it, they wanted me, and I wanted them. It was the perfect partnership, and I began to see a glimmer of hope in my career at last. Six months down the road at Work Paradise, I knew, for sure, that this was where my career would end, where I would retire. It was everything I had been searching for, and not just the work: it was the people and the way of life. For the very first time in my career, I was very happy. I worked late nights, weekends, throwing myself into the firm because I simply believed in everything it stood for. Some days were good, some were bad, but I took it all in as part and parcel of the job… and saw myself as one of the pioneers of partners who would serve the firm and bring it to good stead for the next 20 years.

Last year, though, I hit a snag that threatened to tear away my sense of security and belonging with the firm. As head of department, I am accountable for all acts, omissions, default or neglect of the people in my department- strange but true. I am not a partner, neither do I earn the salary of a partner- but I am skilled at what I do, so they made me head, gave me responsibilties, pushing me towards the sense of belonging and one-ness with the firm. I thought that I had shown calibre, strength, solid work ethics and excellent performance. But I had not counted on the failings of the people in my department, the lack of support, that then threatened my position, reduced me to tears, resulted in a poor year-end appraisal. The bottomline was: I had lost the partnership they had planned for me come 5 January 2009. 

I could’ve been a partner. Now. My parents would be terribly proud of me. I would’ve been honoured to have been made so. But it slipped from my fingers, being held off and deferred uncertainly. My bonus and increment for the year was also deferred until several key performance indicators were met (billing and collection, and my resolution of the file that erupted into an explosion, career-killing, for damned sure…) Until such time, though, the status quo would be maintained.

Today, I am just doing the best that I can, running my department, making sure things go smoothly as they ever can. A little part of me is numbed inside, I have lost my confidence- but I know that I need to find that quickly, and get back into business. At least I still have my job.

The Career Woman

Since I gave up being a rockstar, and made the transition to career woman (or so I’d like to think), I drifted from one firm to another. In the first 4 years of legal practice, I flitted between 3 firms: the first was where I did my pupillage (a 9-month-long practical of sorts, which would’ve driven me crazy had it not been for the fact that I met my  two BFFs there: J and C). They made things fun and bearable, and although I was not finally retained there (let’s say that my then-boss and I had some ‘issues’ and didn’t see eye-to-eye…), J and C are still the best friends I’ve known and we’re constantly in contact, seeing each other through trials and tribulations, heart-breaks, joy & happiness, marriage, pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood. These, I know, are the friends I will have for life.

Then I moved on to another big firm, where I spent 3 miserable years battling errant defaulters and the court system. I enjoyed the first year and a half, and then the nights at work got later and later, until one day, I decided I had had enough, and moved on to a lecturing position in a college. I lasted 6 months there, tendering my resignation after only 3 months for want of challenge- sure, I liked the laid-back lifestyle, I enjoyed nurturing younger minds and preparing them for the outside world, but I felt like I was made for more at that age, I was still young. It was back to legal practice after that, a horrid year at a firm where the partners were so tight-fisted and inconsiderate that they asked me if I was going to keep my baby when I announced my pregnancy, made me visit construction sites every weekend (with no extra pay nor extra leave days) until I was 8 months pregnant and rang me on my mobile while I was in labour because they needed to check something ‘urgent’ with me. For all my hard work and suffering, I was given a 300-dollar increment for the coming year and 2 months’ bonus. It was peanuts. I was fuming mad.

Then came Work Paradise. A friend passed on the word that so-and-so were hiring, and whether I was interested. This firm prided itself on hand-picking its lawyers by word of mouth or recommendation only. It was also a very young firm, only a year old. As destiny would have it, they wanted me, and I wanted them. It was the perfect partnership, and I began to see a glimmer of hope in my career at last. Six months down the road at Work Paradise, I knew, for sure, that this was where my career would end, where I would retire. It was everything I had been searching for, and not just the work: it was the people and the way of life. For the very first time in my career, I was very happy. I worked late nights, weekends, throwing myself into the firm because I simply believed in everything it stood for. Some days were good, some were bad, but I took it all in as part and parcel of the job… and saw myself as one of the pioneers of partners who would serve the firm and bring it to good stead for the next 20 years.

Last year, though, I hit a snag that threatened to tear away my sense of security and belonging with the firm. As head of department, I am accountable for all acts, omissions, default or neglect of the people in my department- strange but true. I am not a partner, neither do I earn the salary of a partner- but I am skilled at what I do, so they made me head, gave me responsibilties, pushing me towards the sense of belonging and one-ness with the firm. I thought that I had shown calibre, strength, solid work ethics and excellent performance. But I had not counted on the failings of the people in my department, the lack of support, that then threatened my position, reduced me to tears, resulted in a poor year-end appraisal. The bottomline was: I had lost the partnership they had planned for me come 5 January 2009. 

I could’ve been a partner. Now. My parents would be terribly proud of me. I would’ve been honoured to have been made so. But it slipped from my fingers, being held off and deferred uncertainly. My bonus and increment for the year was also deferred until several key performance indicators were met (billing and collection, and my resolution of the file that erupted into an explosion, career-killing, for damned sure…) Until such time, though, the status quo would be maintained.

Today, I am just doing the best that I can, running my department, making sure things go smoothly as they ever can. A little part of me is numbed inside, I have lost my confidence- but I know that I need to find that quickly, and get back into business. At least I still have my job.

M-O-S-H

MOSH (as defined by the FreeDictionary by Farlex)

v. moshed, mosh.ing, mosh.es
v.intr. To knock against others intentionally while dancing at a rock concert; slam-dance
v.tr To knock against (someone) intentionally while dancing at a rock concert.

I think this is a pretty apt description of my personality as a whole- rocking, slightly demented, but at the same time, I’d like to think I’m pretty grounded now that I’m Mosh Mummy. I used to be a little-famous rock star (right, that’s the word I like to use: rock star- when in actual fact, I was more of a folksy-alternative-rock chick) in my city about 10 years ago. Ah, to be young and spirited, free from the shackles of the cruel world. Living with my parents, studying for my Bachelors degree in law, I led a fabulous life of semi-luxury. The rock chick. In my heydays, my guitar and piano were the loves of my life, music was the inspiration that drove my soul to furiously writing lyrics and penning notes feverishly in the middle of the night, trying out different riffs and chords, blending soft and hard until the music soothed my ears. Even when the discovery of boys was inevitable, I stuck true to my music: notwithstanding the starry-eyed romances, holding hands, penning love-sick poetry into my diary. My songs took a new turn, angst-ridden, emotively love-struck. I drew squiggly hearts with my boyfriend’s and my name entwined therein on music paper.

But I rocked on, playing in dingy little pubs, singing songs like “The Roof” by the Bloodhound Gang, screaming, “Burn, motherfucker, burn” as I whizzled chords on my friend’s borrowed electric guitar. I cut an album with my close friend, a folksy-alternative debut that won a number of accolades including Best English Album in my home’s equivalent of the Grammy Awards. It was a big deal. Girlfriend and I won the award also for Best New English Artiste. It looked like my life-long dream of becoming a musician was coming to fruition. A psychedellic music video, haunting and melodic, followed: we were living the dream, made up to the nines, dressed in white shift dresses, plunged into cold lakes with fish nipping at our bare skin, diving into a human-sized aquarium and a bathtub filled with flowers and orange slices. The song was, I have to say, a very cool one, our first single penned by yours truly, my proudest achievement to date. Then came the nationwide tour, performing live concerts, doing little gigs and shows, the most amazing time of my life.

After almost 2 years of rockstar-dom, it came to an end. The pact I had made with my father- that I would take time off from the books to pursue my musical destiny, on the condition that I would commence working after I had passed the Bar exams: that time had come. With great dejection, the band broke up, I cried for several nights, but consoled myself with the fact that I could still continue to write my music. After all, one’s true passion cannot be denied.

I still love my music, although it has been 10 years on, and the last time I wrote a song was 4 years ago. My taste in music is somewhat different now, although the musical artistes who had influenced my direction are still very important to me these days: I am still seriously, seriously serious about Tori Amos and her wonderful strange music that, till today, I cannot get out of my head. Now, with a 3-year old daughter, the iPod plays songs from the Barbie movies, M2M, some Bananarama. Yes, cringe: that happened to me, too although I’m somewhat numbed these days. When I am alone, though, I crank the volume up and start singing in the car, like the rock star I had hoped to be. My current musical poison: Liz Phair and the good ol’ 90s, the rock chick I completely idolized when I first heard her music. Go, Liz!

I found it compelling to begin this blog, although I already have 2 semi-active ones running. Blogs are such public things, aren’t they?- and too many people already knew about my other blogs. I wanted, and I still want this to be just mine. Where I can rant and rave about any damn thing without thinking about repercussions and who may be reading. I told a close friend: I’m starting a ’secret’ blog. It’s going to be a bitch blog. And he says, what’s so secret about it now that you’ve told me? True… I’d only let in a few of my friends on this. But I changed my mind- since I accidentally deleted one of my other favourite, active blogs... boo hoo... I have to get past that...

“I am extraordinary if you ever get to know me…!”

I am, I truly am. Do you believe me? It doesn’t matter anyway. This is my blog, and I get to be as whiney and bitchy and insolent as I want to be. It’s the new year, 2009, and I’m not looking forward to this, save for a few milestone events (my daughter attending nursery for the very first time today) that I will recount as we go along.

It’s going to be a fucked-up year, I can already feel it… I only pray that I have the strength to deal with the obstacles life has thrown at me. I thank God that I have my sanity, although that is now hanging on a thread with the nasty things happening in my life. But that’s another story.

Today, I’m just Mosh Mummy, and I’d like to say, hello, here I come.