My kind of woman

There’s this woman where I work who wears brightly coloured brassieres under white shirts. Today it’s electric pink. Hm. Is she just clueless or is this what unattractive women do to attract attention? And she’s not the only one here. Inappropriately short skirts, low cut tops with unsupported jingling boobs (they bounce in step with her stamping feet: her usual mode of ‘walking’), loud brash voices and garish make-up are some of the other attention-grabbing gimmicks they employ.

Oh, they certainly get the attention they seek, but none of it is complimentary, and much of it falls under the category of ‘crude’. I should know, I’ve had to listen to the guys commenting while I remained neutral and tried not to wince. Perhaps these women should realize that overt, in-your-face posturing is just terribly unattractive and completely tasteless. Wouldn’t they rather be on the receiving end of admiration and regard? And I mean this in both the professional sense as well as in personal appearance.

My kind of woman would be unusual in appearance, unique, none of that conventional beauty for me. She’d be attractive but unselfconsciously so. She doesn’t try too hard and she doesn’t have to. She’d exude a quiet intelligence, evident in her eyes (sparkling bright) and her manner, collected and reserved. Her laugh is easy and her wit sharp. A genuine person with no hidden agenda’s but yet intriguingly mysterious all the same. She is her own person, a person that is, after my own heart.

And she doesn’t exist! More’s the pity.

Zipping by

Just after lunch and I’m sitting in the pantry writing with a packet of fruits as a convenient excuse. I could of course type this on my PC at my workspace but it’s too open and I’d feel uncomfortable with the possibility of people looking over my shoulder.

This is going to be a very short week. I’m on leave this Friday and out of office the whole day on Thursday for training. So essentially it’s Monday to Wednesday and it’s already Tuesday afternoon, oh joy!

There isn’t any particular reason for taking leave, just decided on the spur of the moment on one of those down-in-the-dumps days. A feeble attempt at making work more bearable I suppose.

So anyway I’m wondering what I should do this weekend. Hm. Ooo-kay. I’m all out of ideas, but still looking forward to it despite having no plans. It’s all good. :P

A little too close for comfort

Back in Centrepoint again, this time a little earlier than usual (came here straight from a customers office in KL) and feeling a tad unnerved. Was quite freaked out after I found out that the recent kidnapping & rape of the air-stewardess in a shopping mall happened right where I am right now and that I was here on that same very night, the same night I wrote about Centrepoint being the place “to be”. How so very ironic. And driving in just now, there was a police roadblock right in front, I wonder why.

What’s very scary and continually frustrating is the fact that the knee-jerk reactions and finger-pointing from the authorities, random ministers and parties involved like the mall management solves nothing because it’s all too little action too late for the victims. It’s obvious that prevention & safety precautions are non-existent in the Malaysian culture and even experience (Canny Ong for one) teaches us nothing.

I try to be careful and take care of my own self, as everyone should. But sometimes it is so easy to assume that bad things won’t happen to us, and who wants to live under constant fear and vigilance anyway? And so we do what we can, and hope for the best.

Coming home

Sometimes I think about what it would be like coming home to you after a long day at work, of being able to say “Honey I’m home” and feeling your warm embrace lifting all the days worries away.

On the days when I get home late, you would have already gotten me dinner and I can see us both sitting there in a comfortable silence with you smiling indulgently as I slowly consume the meal. I can hear you ask, “How was your day sweetie?” and my replying sigh would tell you all you needed to know. Then pulling me close to kiss my forehead, you would have understood how after a tiring day, the last thing I am, is chatty.

Feeling that much more relaxed after a warm shower, the first thing I would do is rub your back and kiss you fondly on the cheek in appreciation of your calming presence and affection for me. And now I would ask you in return about your day, certain that I’d be able to focus my attention on listening to you.

I’d then sit back in bed and perhaps turn the TV on and gradually you’d come sit by me, automatically taking my hand and clasping it in yours. We might talk a little or just lapse into quietness, my head resting on your chest. After a while, if you gauge that all is well with me and that I am suitably occupied, you would gently extricate yourself and return to what you were doing previously. At other times when you find me restless or out of sorts, you devise ways of amusing me and making it better: whether sharing a tub of ice-cream or watching a movie together or just coaxing me to talk to you.

And as the night draws to a close and I find myself wilting, I’d ask you if you were coming to bed. If you answer “Soon sweetie”, then I would wait for you because sleep is lonely without you. On nights when I involuntarily doze off before you, I remain watchful. Then when you finally do come to bed, you would gently brush my hair in the quietest good night you can muster so as not to awaken me. But I am always aware and will sleepily search for you hand to hold and your lips to kiss my own good night to you.

And finally contented with you beside me, we drift off together into the night

Is Centrepoint the place to be?

Surprisingly, it’s turned out to be quite the people-watching place.

Here’s a checklist of the things I’ve seen so far from my little corner of the cafe:

1. Young professionals’ after work in their spiffy suits and lugging laptops
2. Young adults dressed casually (don’t these people have to work?)
3. Kids everywhere! (Is there a Gymboree or something around here?)
4. A Pomeranian with its lady owner trailing behind on a leash (heh, shouldn’t it be the other way round?)
5. A monitor lizard in a portable aquarium (sans water) carefully cradled by it’s young mistress

And imagine, all this in the space of less than half an hour since I arrived.

Still unconvinced? Well then, sitting right across from me are 3 lovely TV3 newscasters having a leisurely chat over their evening cuppa’s.

Now if only I didn’t find this old building rather depressing, I’d hang out here more often.

Oh! Look at the time, gotta run, got a class to catch!

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5 minutes into class: (Damnit! Why must it be freezing on the day I wear a skirt?!)

Ambling along, rambling on.

8.30AM, at my cubicle and the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. Ugh. (Which explains why I’m writing here about nothing in particular.)

Woke up this morning feeling oddly grateful to be waking up in my own bed. As usual the first thought was a wish that I could sleep the day away and the second was a quick mental calculation of the number of hours before I could crawl back in under the covers again. Heh, talk about being motivated.

These days I feel odder and odder and odder, more and more out of place sometimes. For instance, yesterday, it occurred to me that I’m quite the geek, lacking in the social graces that makes other people appear ‘normal’. This after my trainer made a wisecrack at my expense and my fellow students took to teasing me after. Being the only female student also makes me stand out just that little bit more, so hooray for me. Hmph. Maybe I should attempt to control my expressions and stop frowning all the time. Unfortunately this comes naturally to me and I’m rarely aware of how I odd appear until someone stares or makes a comment.

Weekend’s almost here, yippee! However this weekend marks the start of my effectively becoming a football widow for a month. Hopefully I’ll have enough things to keep me amused ;)