Ten years ago today, I started working full-time with the Government. 

Vividly, I remember the old administration office that I walked into, and waited obediently when told for my colleague who was going to show me who I was going to work closely with from that day forth.

It was someone I went to school with (yay!), and remembered her as One of The Quiet Ones™, but couldn’t remember her name. I got acquainted with her and she soon became one of my best buds in the office for nearly 9 years, after which she upped and left our office for greener pastures.

I remembered being placed on our boss’s desk who was on leave when I joined because there wasn’t a desk for me yet. Which was, in hindsight, pretty hilarious. It was an old building, and they were still renovating it when I walked in, so office space was limited.

When our boss came back, I sheepishly packed my things, and then shared what seemed to be a big, wooden dining table with 3 of my peers, who are now my good friends.

I walked through so many experiences working here. Other times, when I was required to run, I ran. I learned to adapt. I learned to work, and I learned that it doesn’t matter what you’ve learned in school, it’s a whole different ball game when you join the work force as a professional. 

With some bosses, they’re good defenders of your unit, but with others, you will learn how to fend for yourself. Some bosses will motivate you, and recognize your talent and efforts, some won’t. Some are good bosses, some will throw you under the bus in front of higher management. Other bosses from other units can be friendly, others aren’t. Some people a level above you can be snobs, but the others aren’t, and are mostly friendly, so they make it up for the awful times you have to spend with the former. 

One of the important things to note is that what comes up, must come down, so always be humble. I learned that there is still so much to learn, and no matter how limited you feel your capabilities are, there is still so much space for more knowledge and skill, so don’t be afraid to take that step to experience new things.

So far, that’s what ten years have taught me. I hope I become a friendlier colleague, a more efficient orang bawahan, a kinder orang atasan, and a better person as a whole in the more years to come.

With this, I say, alhamdulillah for the ten years, and being blessed, and bismillah for my days ahead. 

songketalliance:

by ShaSha Cuadra

You know those moments you have with someone where the air pulses with your conversations? You savor it in its pure essence, holding onto it as it slowly wafts through the words dancing in the air. The laughter adds a dangle of fairy lights streaming between the breaths of sentences. Your own enthusiasm bursts out involuntarily from a vat of emotions; your stomach hurting from the intensity of it all. Your eyes take in all the spectrum of color as your mind deciphers them as a canvas of feelings:

Keep reading

It’s been that long since you’ve been gone.

I still remember the panic in mom’s voice, the tears Jimmy wept, and the shampoo in my hair that I didn’t get to rinse out. I was taking a shower when you had the attack.

Mom tried to feed you something to alleviate your chest pain when you bit down on her finger as your heart and eventually your body seized up and you forgot how to breathe.

I heard screams, and so  I ran out covered in a towel and visible suds in my tresses. Mom was panicking, and Jimmy couldn’t do a thing, poor soul was barely 11 that day.

I took charge by telling mom to calm down and call an ambulance, and demanded Jimmy to run to our next-door neighbour for help. I needed to get dressed before I could be of use to anybody.

I turned to the stairs only to look into your frightened eyes before I climbed to my room. I told you to wait for me. I told you, “Tunggu Pa ah, aku bebaju dulu,” as calm as I could ever be, thinking this is just a kink that the doctors at RIPAS hospital could iron out.

You were in an accident 40 days prior, and was recovering fine, with the exception of a few abdominal pains which was normal since you had that surgery to stitch up an internal bleeding that you took away from the accident.

“Everything is fine, just get dressed,” I told myself. I didn’t know what clothes I had put on, up until today, I wasn’t sure if I had my clothes on properly.

I went back to help, and saw that the neighbours had come by. They called the ambulance, but mom insisted on taking you to the hospital herself. So the head of the neighbour’s household volunteered to drive you and mom there.

I told the rest that I’d follow suit, I just needed to lock everything up.

When people write, or say, “Everything went by like a blur,” it isn’t just for the sake of saying it. Everything did go by like a blur. I don’t remember locking the front door, I don’t remember the drive down to the hospital, I don’t remember parking the car, I don’t remember turning the engine off, I don’t remember.

What I remember was walking into the ER, and saw mom outside room number 21. Then they moved him to room 22. I remembered this because not only that the room number was big and menacing, but it stood out to me because it was the 22nd that day, and I just turned 22 a fortnight prior. It’s a silly random fact to remember, but there you are.

My aunts and uncles came into the waiting room in a rush, but all I said to them, they’re helping him. He’s going to be OK.

Imagine my shock when they told me they lost you, and couldn’t get you back.

I started hearing ringing in my ears, and a panic-laced voice in my head telling me, no, this isn’t real. It can’t be real. You’re there, in that room number 22, how can you be gone?

That was the bitter reality, though. You were gone. Your soul was departing from your body, and there was nothing we can do about it. Your body was dying, but you didn’t fully let go until we’ve said our goodbyes. The doctor kindly unplugged the heart machine that went flat, as if to cushion the blow.

I remembered crying, but I also remember that I wasn’t really crying? I don’t know how to explain it. I pictured that my mind was shaped like an outlined circle, but the circle just kept contracting from the outline, until I was there in the center, becoming the smallest circle, just away from everything.

I found myself being a passenger in a moving car, willing away a killer headache. I had to get myself home, I said. “Awu, balik tah ni,” I remember someone gently replying to me.

I got home, but you were already there. They laid you on the living room floor. I went up to my room to get changed into proper clothes (I don’t know how I could even think of this at that point, but I was operating on auto, it seemed), and took the Yaasin from my praying mat to recite it to you.

I was in my green baju kurong, and tied a scarf on my head, reciting the surah Yaasin with my face flushed and wet with tears. My breaths hitched so many times, I don’t know how I managed to finish, but I did. After I was done, I kissed your forehead and stood up.

I walked into the guest room where everyone was, and I told them I had a pounding headache, and was about to throw up. I didn’t remember much after that, but I was told that I managed to get myself to the toilet in time, and passed out on the bed right after.

The next day, when you left the house to get buried in Kiulap, a fair drive from our house, my head felt like it was wrapped in cotton. My friends came to offer their condolences and comfort, but I talked to them, and pretended like nothing major had happened. I thanked them for coming, and I thanked your friends and colleagues who came too. Your best friends came with tears and regret in their eyes.

You left us that night, and now today, marks 10 years since you’ve been gone, and not a day has gone by without me remembering these details of that day I lost you.

I miss you, Pa, and I always will. Al-Fatihah.

Keep reading

charming-tothelast:

You know that moment when you’re reading a book and you just have to stop and bite your lip and squeal or sigh or close your eyes and wrinkle your nose and forehead and press the book against your heart and just like sit there and try to soak up the gorgeous literature via osmosis?

That’s my favorite part of reading. 

Joined Helmi Abdullah Fitness mass bootcamp today, when I nearly didn’t because my mental state was at the brink of exhaustion. I’m glad I did though, because I needed it more than I’d initially thought.

Living an active lifestyle after years of living a very slow and lethargic one can take a toll on a person, and it’s frustrating to realize that stubborn fats and flabs don’t just roll off at the end of a 10km run, or after a whole day slaving at the gym.

Other people only see the physical results. When you trimmed down to two sizes smaller, they compliment you, and they sometimes ask you what you’ve done to achieve it.

Unfortunately, the one answer that people usually don’t want to hear is that you have to work for it. It doesn’t come easy. Sacrificing an hour daily for exercise can be a difficult task, and even if you take that step to just grab an hour out of your day, you still have to push yourself through it.

I sometimes find myself in the middle of a run, and wanting to quit. On my weaker days, I do. On my better days, I push forward. I tell myself that I can slow down, but to not ever stop. So I pull through with a good enough distance and pace. On my best days, which are rare, I’d have done it with my eyes closed, raring to go further.

It isn’t a straight path, and you’ll always stumble. There are times when you stray from it and have 3 cheat days in a row, but worked out 7 days out of the week. Other times you don’t have cheat days, but your workout sessions are lacklustre. It happens. I try not to be too hard on myself, but I am human.

I am too hard on myself most days, especially this past month as I find myself in a plateau.

I wish to get myself out of this plateau, or at least prep my mind to get with the program and just live with it while living the active life the best I can. Because at the end of the day, even if I do get down to weighing 60kg (my ideal weight), but if my mind and soul are not at ease, then everything will be in vain.

A healthy mind is a healthy life, I say!

Dreamt someone handed me a beautiful baby, all wrapped up in fluffy pink blanket, and told me that she was mine. She was beautiful with jet-black hair, soft, rosy cheeks, and large, curious eyes.

I was so happy to have her in my arms, that when I woke up, I can’t recall when the last time I was that happy.

I’ve stopped being bothered with starting a family many years ago, but the sudden appearance of this baby in my dream is starting to change my mind.

Happy International Women’s Day!

I never knew that the day’s official colour was purple until after local cafes and restaurants were promoting their discounts to purple-wearing folks today! (Wore purple today, coincidentally.)

So! This year’s theme is #BeBoldForChange.

That made me think. I’d like change, but…

Keep reading

For the first time in my working years, I was sad in a meeting.

It was a meeting for the building’s fire marshals, and we were discussing about our next fire drill exercise. We were talking about possible scenarios, and coming up with solutions to possible troubles we may face during the exercise.

So for a little bit of background, a fire marshal’s most basic task is to successfully evacuate, for example, a burning building. 

During the fire marshal training we had last year, roles were given to everyone for a fire drill exercise. The roles were chief fire marshal, fire marshal, the sick, the wounded, among others.

We were also informed beforehand, that in a fire drill exercise, there will be a few handpicked individuals who will play the role of the 6-month pregnant woman, or the role of someone who broke their leg last week and was on crutches, or the role of someone who has a panic attack during the exercise.

This will hone your fire marshaling skills, I suppose, as we were also taught lifting techniques and a bit of first aid in case we had to use them.

Someone will also be ‘kidnapped’ at the last minute by a Fire & Rescue Department personnel just so fire marshals will be alert and meticulous about the people they are evacuating. Important points: you have to make sure you have everyone out safely; no one gets left behind.

So, back to this meeting, we came to a point where someone had a genuine concern about evacuating a man in the building who was morbidly obese.

Suddenly, to my displeasure, a chunk of the room exploded in a whole lot of body shaming comments.

I tried stopping them profusely with “Jangan cematu. That is very mean! Guys, come on.” I repeated this, but they didn’t stop.

Someone next to me had the gall of putting a label on him, calling him a cartoon character’s name I refuse to regurgitate in this post, konon it was cutesy. Even tried to bargain with me, “Come on, Tina, it’s cute! Better than (insert another cartoon character name here)! It’s cute! Right?”

I put my foot down, and said, “No. It’s not cute. It’s mean.”

This person kept saying it was cute, and I said, “INDA. No, I don’t believe saying that he looks like that character is cute. I think it’s mean.”

The body shaming stopped eventually to make way for more serious topics, but a bit more trickled in on small conversations, and I tried to block it out.

I was shocked, appalled, and, as mentioned, sad. I was frustrated that I didn’t react fast enough, or was strong enough to speak up to them about the horrors they were saying.

I’m a big girl too. I’m obese too. Sure, I can take the occasional mock-laced comments, but for my body to be a full-blown joke to people… that I cannot take. Even if it isn’t about me.

I wish I had defended him more, not because I personally knew him and work with him closely, but because it is not right. It’s not right to make fun of people, especially when they aren’t there to defend themselves.

Actually, come to think of it, even when he is present in the room for any meeting, people make fun of him whenever the moment arises. I feel so sorry that he has to endure such nastiness in the workplace. 

If people are genuinely concerned about other people’s body size, then take them for a 2km walk every day. Help them be healthy. Do something about it. Don’t poke fun at them, don’t talk trash about them, and never body shame anyone, be it fat or skinny.

Consider this: just like you, other people have feelings too. If it were to happen to you, it wouldn’t be funny, and you wouldn’t be laughing.