Reflections

I just couldn't sleep the other night. I found myself reflecting on a series of events that had occured to me over the last couple of years or so. I hate that. I really hate that moment where you lay yourself down to sleep but intead found yourself thinking. Though the eyes are sleepy and you are physically exhausted...you just can't sleep.

Anyways, I found myself looking back at a time I was much happier. Perhaps even innocent.

I had enjoyed my first job very much. I was contracted for a fixed term to work on a quantitative research endorsed by one of the biggest Agrochemical companies in the klang valley. The pay was pretty good for a 'fresh grad'. Even though the task requires a large amount of travelling, transportation and allowances was provided for. For me, it was the beginning of a fantastic adventure across Peninsula M'sia and I wrapped up the research travelling to East M'sia. Who can ask for more. I don't even have to see my bosses very much because I was seconded to an organisation who is working in conjuntion with the research and the office was smack in the middle of KL. Boy those days were good.

But all good things must come to and end. So eventually, I had to bid farewell to my nice colleagues when my term ended. It was nice to be referred to as "En. Fairul", to be appreciated as a real officer and have someone making coffee and deliver it to you every morning. Plus th e coffee was just the way I like it. The environment was really nice. To a large extent I was humbled by my experience both in office as well as when I had to go to the field for research.

I missed that.

Soon after I jumped to the nearest available job opportunity. I entered the service industry which started off well for me but all throughout my time there, I had a colourful mix of experience. And it tends to split at the biggest of extremes.

I was very fortunate to have had a very nice and very good immediate boss. She was kind, wise and to large extent patient with me. Mind you, I had to learn the entire tricks of the trade from scratch...and really, this industry is one borne through your personal experience and wit. My relationship with my 'sup' was very much brother-sisterly so I tend to be very loyal and somewhat protective of her. Looking back, I supposed she had saved my ass a hundred times from my occasional boo-boo's but it was never more evident than the events that had transpired after she left the orgnanisation. That's when I had things exploding in my face. I should've seen it coming.

Eventually, one part of the reason for both us leaving the org was because of our group leader. Overated, doesn't inspire and poor communicator is nicest way to describe him. What a complete contrast to my sup.

Why do we remind ourselves of 'what if'? I was once offered the opportunity to rejoin the organisation I was seconded to in my first job. I turn it down without consulting those who were in the position to advise me. So, life is basically about choices and half-chances. I've made some good ones and some really terrible ones. But in the end, I made the decision when it needed to be made. Was it good? was it bad? I guess only time will tell huh...

4 years and never been to the tin cake

I've lived in Wellington close to 5 years now, and yet I've never been to the ol tin cake - The West Pac Stadium - for anything. I guess, the sport itself is so different to my one true sporting love of football or soccer as some would call it here. It's not easy to follow the EPL because of the time difference and access to it. First, one must have satellite or cable network service and then, most common games that runs around 8pm in Malaysia...Well, we have to add 5 hours to it. So games have the honor to a very late broadcast time of 1am if I'm lucky.

So this weekend, I turn to rugby instead. And it would be my first to the Tin Cake for a live game. Admittedly , I am excited and looking forward to it.

Wellington is really a small town. But guess what, it is also being invaded (to loosely put it and in light of humor). Through my experience, when I first came here to study, you can count in one hand the number of foreign students here. Then slowly, NZ universities hopped on the Chinese market band wagon. Now it seems, Malaysians are taking Australia and NZ by storm. Who ever thought that education is not a business...Well, go stuff yourself.

How lucky these Malaysian students are. They have a strong foundation of friends. They are a company in force. During my time (which was only 4 years ago), there were only 18 of us at most given time. Today, times that by ten at least. "The more the merrier" some might say.

But my theory is the total opposite. The more in number, the less in quality. No, I'm not being biased. I happily flunked my first year and a half while I underwent a rampage of alcoholism, binge drinking, what ever term you want to call it, paid my tributes to whichever higher being that conjure up in my head when I'm high. I partied too but I also learned to appreciate education...at least the bit that interests me the most.

Back to the new Malaysian students...I fear that for many of them, it's their debut sojourn from home. Typically, many won't mix with the local culture and those who do, do it for 'coolness' and for all the wrong reasons. I suppose, you live and learn.

On the eve of my graduation, I've come to realize that this age of being a student, away from family rules, regulation and obligation really make you or break you as a person. It's a survival of the fittest really. You learn more about yourself than anything else at the end of the day. We all now know that for most of us, what ever academia we earned during tertiary studies is really not practical studies. The practical bit comes in during our fledgling career debut.

And so yesterday, friends of mine happen to bump into a couple of large/loud groups of Malay parents attired in the full on songkok and seemingly lost in this small town of Wellington. It's bad enough roving in a large group but being loud is totally unneccesary wouldn't it? Then again, it's typical that within aa large social group, there tend to be a leader or someone who offers assuarance to the rest and they are loud and careless. Why? because within a group we feel safe and we are comfortable. It onnly costs a small subscription fee of comforming to the group's exceptable social norms.

Ahh those pesky Malaysians....Ahh...to think I was once like them.

Then again, I was never really one to conform to anything. For that, my punishment was to be seen as 'different'. Finally I conformed to certain things in my socially accepted group of friends by respecting them. I learned that it's not necessarily "It's our way or the highway" but this largely depends on the people in that group. Solution is simply to accomodate others. Then again, leadership is occasionally a crime that I cherish but no, I'm not the leader type. I'm more of the "Let's-see-what-happens-if-we-push-this-button" type. Try my luck and push it as far as it goes. Which at times is unhealthy.

What music bring to my ears

Sometimes I just love lazing about and just listen to some selections from my ipod. Some songs would just bring back so much memories. The strange thing is, sometimes the songs just brought me back to a particular memory and it can almost feel so real...I can listen to Third Eye Blind and recall the times I used to cruise around in the ol' beemer. Or put on U2's "Stay.." and I will distinctively recall a time I rushed from one end of KL to the other (as in, Ampang to TTDI) at 3am just to send my friend home after a pool party (thinking about, did she ever thanked me?hmm) and making the return trip just to dive some more. I don't do those things anymore...

It makes me wonder, who am I? and what have I become? Do we all grow out of it? Had it my way, I wouldn't really want to. But circumstances always seem to dictate our lives.

How about listening to Springsteens' "Born in the USA" and it takes me back to 1986. A time where my eldest sis, myself and bro would cycle laps around the neigbourhood and keep getting chased by the neighbour's dog. A time when I knew nothing about home-works or Karl Marx's works, a time I couldn't care less for girls/babes what have you, a time I didn't have to worry about life.

How strong music is...

It saddens me at times when reflecting upon the past. It's even strange when my parent's house is the same one we moved into some 24 odd-years ago or so. I remembered a time when I could barely jump to touch the light switches and now I'm hovering over the damn thing. It's stranger still (and funny) to see that most of the inhabitants there are the same bar, a few additions. Now it's the younger generation who fills the screams and yells in the house. Which is kinda ironic if you think about it. It was just 15 years ago that my 3 sisters and bro (although bro was never really in the house - being a wayward that he's always been) would yell for each other when the phone rings no matter where in the world we were.

I had a good time appreciating Metallica over the weekend. Again, that brought me some very nice memories. Oh, all that head banging and air guitar-ing/drumming I used to do as JK drives my dad's beemer. But's that's just one part of my music-supported memoirs (or musical memoirs, if you like).

I wonder if this applies to everyone? I mean, music bridging a significant memory with your present self.