Bastille Day

Yesterday, July 14th (14 juillet) was Bastille Day. We celebrated it at the Ambassador's Residence, Ambassade de France in Jalan Ampang with Champagne and Kiwi Brandy - nice. There were plenty of French people there and the occasional non-French - SPG type girls, a few Indians hovering over the alcohol dispensary and even saw Anna L'italiana there. Also met a pleasant French girl who was Philippe's ex-schoolmate - she works in Alcatel, Wisma Denmark down the road from AIA. Observed the people there (did this amidst trying to act busy - you can only do so much whilst standing and pretending to understand what people are saying). Over the occasional "oui","non","moins","enchantee" - which were the only few words I could pick up - on the flat screen TV a minute of silence was observed in Paris during the celebrations for the London bomb attack victims - cigar smoke blowing in my face - chatter chatter chatter dans le Francais - heels elevated stressing my achilles - live band belting out 'You're Too Good to Be True". A Bastille Day to remember

After the Break In

I opened the car boot to put in my carried paper bag. 'Hey, why is there pieces of glass in my boot? I don't remember carrying anything made of glass' Then I noticed that my boot was empty. Turning to my left, I see the shattered glass, half dangling inwards.
'Oh shit' I exclaim.
Running into the side, I see the locks have been lifted up. Inspected the front for anything missing. Car radio still intact, steering lock still in place. Open the dashboard, everything looks the same. Look at the CDs - they're still there.I run back to the boot.
Losses discovered - missing golf bag - main thing I notice. 'Dammit!'(later on there would be more - Nike shoe box, Sarah's CDs and DVD)
I call Philippe and then the Perodua sales man Kevin.

" It was dark mother. I tried, I really tried but it was too much for me. I had no choice but to break. He and his friends came from nowhere. It was dark. They hit me again and again. Your alarm rang, but they reached in through my broken body. I wanted to cry "Stop! Stop!" but I am silent - torn - only a shattered piece of glass. A man walking pass. He peers at me, inside me. I'm afraid he will reach in. By now I can do nothing. He stops only for a second. Then moves on. Now I am nothing. But mostly I am sorry. I've tried my best and this is what I could give"

There's that car again. Let's do it tonight. No one around. It's dark. Where's the stool? Here it is. Smash it quick. Alarm sounding. Fast fast fast. Put the hand in. Lift the boot lock knob.Open car boot. Grab the golf bag. Grab the shoe box. There's a black plastic. What's inside? CDs, a DVD. Grab that too. Someone's looking. Run, run run.

Obituary Of A Car Window

Quarter Car Window
Born February 2, 2005
Died July 11, 2005

Little Quarter Car Window, you will be sadly missed by Kenari, Brothers Front and Back Windshield, Sisters Left and Right Side-windows and mostly Car Owner Fiona. Thank you for protecting the inside of Kenari from the sun, dust, rain and preventing mosquitoes coming in. Your deeds will not be forgotten

And so you want to be a writer...

"And so you want to be a writer eh...?" says the old man to him.
"Yeah I do..." he replies unconvincingly.

What is it about the people that value the process - you don't get to be egoistic and proud enough to want to follow it through. That's the problem with the little people -they're there to do the work but not to get the name. And which side of the coin is worse? The egoists or the hardworking cowardice? (I'm writing this on computer while being interrupted on the phone - it's true what my creative writing instructor says - that on the keyboard you tend to want to go back and delete what you've written - and methinks the office is not the most convenient place to write anyway) And going back to the young man;

He walks down the street pondering on the old man's question "So you WANT to be a writer eh?"....Gone were the times when he used to bind his own little notebook with the scribblings and doodles which carried the pregnant weight of his thoughts.

"Yes I do want to be a writer -I AM a writer" he thinks.

But he also thinks of the sweat, the tears and the rejections of publishing.

"Oh well, at least I could give it a try"

But he knows in the back of his mind that he will start this pursuit with frenzy which lasts but a few months and from then on it's back to square one. He realizes this but he also holds on to the motto that 'You have only one life to live, so live it!' He also hopes that this time, it would not be just another trivial pursuit.

"Who knows, I'll make it this time - I'll promise myself that I'll keep at it -I'll persevere as I've never persevered before. THAT would make the difference" he mutters to himself.

And so he hurries to the nearest bookshop, full of determination, to get the whitest bound paper weight from Popular bookstore and the smoothest black roller ball pen (and a few other colour pens too since colours stimulate the right brain) and hurries home.

My First Book Reading

Last Friday I attended my first ever book reading at Sharon Bakar's. And boy, it was by far one of the most memorable of my Friday nights.

I was hesitant whether or not to go as it wasn't one of my best days at work. However I made my decision to come since it was so nearby Tropicana Golf and Country Club after the agent's product launching and I needed a quiet but meaningful activity where I can sit and contemplate.

Thing was, Sharon forgot to email that the reading was off since there were only 2 respondees. When I finally got there, it seemed awfully quiet. Sharon's husband answered the door (didn't seem too pleased at my intrusion). Sharon was surprised - I'd just interrupted her musical recorder concerto. But she was really nice and even poured me a glass of wine AND gave me an impromptu performance of her recorder skills.

Not only that, she managed to get Jaeson Iskandar (reader/performer/artist) on her mobile and he was a sweetie - actually gave me a reading from Brokeback Mountain via the MOBILE. Yes, Wyoming, America came alive for 30 minutes for me via the handphone over Kebab dinner. Ha...talk about great first timers.

Re: Thanks for the invite

Dear team

Haha this emailing reminds me of 'The Bitch' club - we were 3 trainee girls sharing the same room in Istanbul- Luciana, Mishu and myself. We used to share about our 'girly' concerns ie men, weight, clothes etc

Today will only join u Angie about 8.00pm? Roughly where'll u be then? Think I want to leave my car either in office or at SPK.

Sarah - yes it was a very profound message from the novel. What novel is this? Looks like the reading habit is catching on for you:) Yes I agree that true friends accept each other as they are - as they say love is patient and kind - so is friendship which is a kind of love....and so I think of my 2 ex-roomates from Istanbul - girlfriends who are now somewhere in the UK and Romania- I wish them well and know that they're somewhere in this world.

And I also thank God for my 2 current friends who are near me and sharing my life with me at the moment...Where would women be without other women to support each other?

Pondering life's mysteries....

Fiona