I am Jane's loving memory of a certain someone

It's not like i forgot on purpose, it's just that i didn't know where i wrote it down. It's been 20 days since the anniversary of my most beloved and favourite uncle's death. To think I took at least 2 years to get over it. Come to think of it, I've been living in denial for a very long time, to the extent of not wanting to remember the date of his death. Nobody knows how much I really miss him. They all thought we weren't close. Heck, even I thought we weren't close. But as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Problem is, when will I get to see him again? I guess it's too late for that. Or maybe it's just the fact that I'll never see him again as long as I live which got to me. Either one, I remember his funeral as if it was just yesterday. The sight of my auntie pouring her eyes out. In a way I can relate to her feeling of loss of a loved one. But who can thoroughly understand the feeling of a newly widowed woman? The person who vowed to spend his entire life with you has fulfilled his part of the promise, till death do they part. I'm not saying I understand how she feels, but I can relate to it. Although maybe, just maybe I'm still very naive about that feeling. Because it seems that she has gotten over it. But whether or not she really has, only she will know. Life goes on, people will meet new people, and then who knows what will happen right? But can someone new actually take the place of the person who's been so dear to your heart for such a long time? The person whom you've been one with for almost half your life? Or will he just be another chapter in your life, just someone else to spend the rest of your days with. Or just a temporary fix? I don't know, but to me, nobody will every replace him. Come to think of it, as I'm writing this, I haven't really gotten over the fact he's now gone. You know I never knew I was close to him till after he was gone and my aunt told me how much he loved me. Only me. Nobody else. Only then did I know what I've been missing out all my life.

It really is sad isn't it? I really don't know if I'll ever get over it, part of me doesn't want to, because I never want to forget him and how I missed out on all the opportunities I had to spend time with him. Let it serve as a reminder to me to cherish those around me. Those who are permanently in my life since birth, those I'm bonded to with no choice, those brought into my life by destiny, those who come and go, and those whom I really wish will stay forever. We never know what we've got till it's gone right? To deceased leave this world, some with a wary heart, some with relieve, only to live the living here, some to cherish the memories, some to moan the loss. It really depends on how you look at it right?


In memory of Tay Hock Chee,
Devoted follower
Path setter
Humble role model
Faithful husband
Loving father
Understanding uncle
Forgiving brother
Filial son







To think I only have this photo to remember him. That's me in his arms. So guess how old this photo is.

I am Jane's dissatisfaction over our legal guardians

i'm not being mean or ungrateful, it's just that i've always thought of my parents (more of mum here) as my prison wardens...reason being, they've always restricted my freedom! if they had their way, i'd be studying form 6 right now back in my hometown, STILL stuck at home, not allowed to go out and with restricted visitors..with parents who say 'no' to practically every request, can you really blame me for doing things behind their back and not telling them everything (like, duh!)?
i remember once fighting with my mum because she (once again,) went through my drawers, snitching around, trying to find evidence of my wrong-doings while i was in tuition...and obviously, there were a number of things that she found...i guess being sentimental DOES make me more vulnerable to getting caught red-handed...(think cards and notes from then-boyfriends)...oh, i forgot to mention...like all parents, mine STRICTLY PROHIBIT ANY KIND OF DATING (like i bothered...DUH!)...when she picked me up from tuition (that's the time my mum usually chooses to 'talk' because she gets to lock all the car doors and when the car is moving i can't really get out), we had 'THE TALK'...and obviously, i didn't enjoy it and felt reeeeaaaalllly uneasy...so we started yelling at each other about snitching around other people's stuff and what-not...the conversation was pretty much like this:

Mum: Why on earth do you have a boyfriend? You don't need a boyfriend at this age.
Me : So why is it okay with you when my cousins have boyfriends but not me?
Mum: (famous sentence) That's other people's family business..you are MY daughter therefore you obey MY rule and i DON'T allow dating at this age.
Me : So that means that i don't have to bother when OTHER PEOPLE'S daughters do better than me right?
Mum: Do you think you're very smart, talking back at me?
Me : Isn't it true? if i pass, you ask why didn't i score, if i score, you ask me why i didn't get full marks...you're never satisfied!even if i got 101%, you wouldn't be satisfied..
Mum: well if you can bring back a 101% then go ahead...
Me : I will...and please don't go through my cupboard as if i hid gold inside...
Mum: You don't tell me anything, so that's the only way i find out things
Me : well you can't exactly blame me for not telling you anything since your reaction is like that...
Mum: well you're living under my roof, so you have to listen to me...
Me : Legal wise, i'm living under dad's roof...
Mum: don't be smart...what's dad's is mine and the whole family's...
Me : So you're saying i live under MY roof?
Mum: KEEP QUIET!!!! what have you got to hide anyway?
Me : Have you ever heard of such a thing as privacy?
Mum: (her prize-winning statement i'll remember for life) YOU HAVE NO PRIVACY UNTIL YOU'RE 18!!!

and i just know it, when i'm 18, she'll tell me i have no privacy until i'm 21...she's done it before, she'll do it again...
anyway, that's not really the reason why i'm blogging...i can go on and on about my parents..not that i'm not grateful for what they've done for me....but sometimes (very often), i just can't stand them...they're always on my back...and yes....THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND ME...

the mistake in the sentence i posted last week is this:
"I CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND MY CHILD BECAUSE HE/SHE NEVER LISTENS TO ME"

it was a very general statement...and most of us asian kids have heard it at least at some point of our lives...i wasn't referring to myself...
THE ANSWER: WHAT DOES GETTING SOMEONE TO LISTEN TO YOU HAVE TO DO WITH UNDERSTANDING THE PERSON??? if you want to understand a person, shouldn't YOU be doing the listening and the PERSON doing the TALKING??? typical isn't it???when we say a word, our parents will ask us to shut up....only to complain later on about us not answering them...but when we DO answer them...they say we're rude...i've tried it before...

Mum: BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA(usual nagging)
Me : But, MA....
Mum: KEEP QUIET WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU...LISTEN...YADA YADA YADA YADA YADA YADA YADA
Me : (silent)
Mum: ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME OR NOT???WHY ARE YOU NOT RESPONDING?
Me : but you asked me to keep quiet...
Mum: DON'T TRY TO BE SMART...YOU DON'T HAVE TO TALK TO SHOW YOU'RE LISTENING...NAG NAG NAG NAG NAG NAG
Me : (nods) (pretending to listen with a serious face)
Mum: WHAT'S WITH THE FACE???ARE YOU SULKING BECAUSE I'M SCOLDING YOU?DON'T BE SUCH A BRAT... QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK
Me : (SMILES)
Mum: WHAT'S THERE TO SMILE ABOUT?SO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY IS IT??? YACK YACK YACK
Me : (SURRENDER)

so there, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY you can please my mum....
so parents...if you want to understand your kid...try this thing called listening...we understand you perfectly well because most of the time we're the ones doing the listening...

i'm just frustrated...i'm an part1 ACCA student..a VERY FRUSTRATED ACCA student...how am i going to survive the next 2 years???

Things i'm whining about right now:
1. i can't even study in my own room!!!my roommate is a light sleeper...even the sound of a pin dropping wakes her up...when i study in the room with the table light on, i can hear and see her constantly tossing and turning, indicating difficulty sleeping...and my friend can't study in her room because her roommate is too noisy and the room smells of cigarettes...SHISH!!!so the both of us are kicked downstairs to the study room...

2. we thought we'd be able to study in the study room, but NOOOOO....some very inconciderate uncivilized people HAVE to talk as if one is in Kalimantan, another in Jawa, and the other in Sumatera...geezzzz...be a little bit more considerate!!i'm not being racist...i'm just annoyed with them...

3. the internet connection SUCKS!!!!!!firstly, it's very S.L.O.W. secondly, my pc always gets quarantined for NO APPARENT REASON...thirdly, the connection sucks...when the internet guys come, the internet behaves itself but once they leave, it starts showing attitude...it's pathetic!!!we all have to wait up to 2-3 am to use the internet when everyone's asleep

4. the condo management SUCKS....they're nice to you when your parents are around...but they're damn mean after that...when i moved in, i told them SPECIFICALLY that i was expecting a friend in march...but NOOOOO...they HAD to give me a roommate who is like...a century older than me...seriously...nevermind that, when my friend and i REQUESTED for a room transfer, they REFUSED...and then we (the obviously-too-smart-to-take-their-crap people) went a-looking for mr marketing executive who enrolled us...after all he TALKED us into signing up he'd better live up to his word of good follow-through services..so we got him to talk to ms two-face in the office and she (without any hesitation) said that we should have came to her straight instead of pulling mr marketing executive all the way just to get a room transfer...ms sarcastic (me) told her straight away that we DID come to you but you refused....so ms two-faced answered (as if she was saying 'you think you soooo smart') "so you brought mr marketing executive here to act as your shield?" and ms sarcastic replied "well, since we can't get it done ourselves, so i guess that's what he's here for" and then fake laughter from both parties ended the conversation...

5. i feel my consumer rights being violated...the taxis here don't go by their meters, they charge us as if our parents own the mint!and also...my parents pay these condo people rm550 per month and this is the service we get???shish!!!!

6. i'm very very VERY angry at my previous chief tenant who cheated me of rm 200...or more...i feel like calling the police and making a report...oh boy will they get into hot soup...not only because of the money...but for the possession of dried grass...get my drift???

7. i'm still very confused about why i'm doing ACCA....i know for a fact that i'm doing it because my parents want me to do accounting..but is accounting really my cup of tea??why do i find it such a dread to study??why can't i study???i was planning to study BUT i got frustrated...i wish i knew why i don't blend in with my classmates...is it just me??or is it really them??or am i just being over-sensitive?why do i dread waking up everyday??even if i do wake up early and fresh, why do i dread going to class?i wish i was doing something i'd wake up enthusiastically to...not having to force myself...i'm soooo lost...

8. them mosquitoes are biting me even through my slacks...stupid mosquitoes...no...that's not the point...i failed 2 out of 3 papers in the last exam...irony of the whole thing..i actually got full marks for the question i had no idea how to do...and the question i was damn good at, i made careless mistakes...shisshhh....the next exam is next week....i can't study...and i'm wondering if i'm going to make it through the whole course...so much for high hopes and dreams...i do have dreams...but i don't have goals..at least not prominent ones...help me!i'm sinking...

9. i feel as if i'm losing my friends one by one...even the ones who were once sooo closed to me...some of which i've lost because they currently have their other halves...whom they revolve their whole world around

10. i wish i was born with a silver spoon in my hand...don't we all??then i wouldn't have to worry so much about losing my scholarship...about asking for money, about feeling bad for asking for money...about being able to actually live comfortably (i guess i have to blame my high standard definition of 'comfortable')...i wish i had a single room...i don't understand why my mum insists i have a roommate...i need my space...the first day my roommate moved in....i felt sooo...violated...it was as though someone had intruded into my territory...violated my privacy...

i told you it was full of whines....there....i just had to let it out...
p/s: i think i have developed an obsessive compulsive disorder...i cannot stand if i have dirty laundry not done, floor full of hair, plates not washed....what else??cleaner ladies coming in, making the place even dirtier, walking in and out, finally leaving, house even dirtier than before she came in...I CANNOT STAND THIS ANYMORE!!!!!i give up...i'll study another day...i need to escape into my own world...
i don't know why....i keep sleeping these days...night and day...i think i can make a world record...

I am Jane the pure Malaysian

^{"Mummy, why the durian not salty wan?"}

^{"No, dear. Durians are not salty, they're sweet. And the proper sentence is 'Why isn't the durian sweet?"}

When we were kids, (most of) our parents tried their best to train us to speak proper English. But alas, we Malaysians will remain Malaysians. At some point of our lives, Manglish, or more appropriately, rojakro language, will some how or rather, find its way into our everyday conversations, 'contaminating' the almost-perfect English our parents have so dedicatedly taught us. As its name suggests, rojak language is a combination of all languages known to us, mainly the Malay language, the English language, and more often, various Indian and Chinese dialects. Therefore, I believe it is every single bit Malaysian.

Being born into a family whose mother tongue is English, I am one of those kids born in the late 80's who (almost) can't speak any Chinese dialect, hence being labelled a 'banana'. 'Bananas' are Chinese who can't speak any Chinese dialects, just like bananas, they are "yellow on the outside, but white inside" (similarly, an Indian who can't speak any Indian dialect is called a 'coconut'). By the time I could converse in English, I refused to speak in any other language. The only other language I spoke was Malay or Indonesian, obviously because we had an Indonesian helper at home. It's not like my parents never tried to teach me, I was just too darn stubborn! (I'm sure you other 'bananas' have your own reasons) Even until today, when my parents speak to me in Chinese dialects, whether it's Cantonese or Hokkien, I'd unconsciously reply in English. The scenarios is what Chinese would equate to a chicken trying to converse with a duck. Only difference is that my parents and I actually understand each other figuratively, whereas chickens will never understand ducks.

As my mum received her education in Singapore, she was (and still is!) very particular with my spoken English. In a way, I'm glad I was brought up that way, or I would never have found my passion for writing. I remember getting yelled at when I made grammatical errors, such as "The water is more deeper at the other end of the pool." Such statements were normally followed by a one hour lecture on the importance of using proper grammar and not reading enough books. In addition to that, I'll never forget my mum's favourite answer when my brother and I used to ask her for definition of words: "Don't be lazy, look it up the dictionary yourself. Do I look like a walking-dictionary to you?" So much so, by the time i entered primary school, I was speaking English fluently.

However, like I've said before, the usage of Manglish is CONTAGIOUS! After all, most of the kids at school were speaking it! And just like an epidemic, the usage of Manglish spread from those whose parents conversed with them in Manglish to those who spoke proper English. Soon enough, everyone in school was using Manglish particles in ALL of their sentences. Phrases like "Why you like that wan?" instead of "Why are you being that way?" and "Very pain lah!" instead of "It is very painful!"were oh-so-common. Those were the days when English lessons were more of screaming contests, often comprising of simple sentences like "THIS IS A DOG. THE DOG CAN RUN. I CAN RUN. THE DOG AND I CAN RUN." Our bookshelves were filled with the evergreen series of 'Peter and Jane'. And together with that, we picked up the 'skill' of using particles such as 'lah', 'mah', and 'meh', just to name a few.

As we grew older, we start to realize the difference between our spoken English and written English. To most of us, our everyday-spoken English is Manglish, with no grammatical boundaries what-so-ever (everything goes!) and written English must (well, we try our best!) have proper grammar and spelling. Some of us may speak broken English but write beautifully, or vice versa.

I find it quite queer how our audience or our peers affect our spoken English. For an example, during regular lectures, we might converse with our lecturers using Manglish. However, during presentations, we try our very best to switch from Manglish to proper English (sometimes resulting in students just reading from papers, transparencies and the like). Therefore, most of us often speak slower, and consequently, resulting in a less fluent speech. This is somewhat because we literally have to think before we speak, often trying to rephrase the 'Manglish' sentences in our minds into proper ones.

Besides that, Malaysians tend to speak proper English when they are among people from other countries. Some of them even try to 'adopt' the latter's accent, which often result in disastrous and hilarious conversations. Why is it that we feel so ashamed of our own accent? Why must we 'adopt' other society's accent? Even if we don't speak Manglish, it is still very possible to speak proper English with a truly Malaysian accent. For example :

"Why are you so sad lah?" can be easily transformed into a perfectly proper sentence just by omitting the particle 'lah', and voila!

"Why are you so sad?" An English sentence with perfect grammar; fuss free, without the need to put on a fake accent or crack your brain trying to figure if you're as 'English' as a Caucasian. The fact is, we're NOT caucasians. Let's just leave the job of being proud of an uptight British accent to the English, a coalesced Australian accent to the Australians, a nasal Canadian accent to the Canadians, etcetera. After all, we don't see many English men trying to speak Manglish (unless they have a very good reason to), do we?

In conclusion, let us be proud of our own identity. There is no shame to be able to speak Manglish. Neither is there a need for us to adopt an accent which is not our. In fact, we should be proud, because to be able to speak Manglish, we must first know at least two languages to be able to mix them all up (hence the term 'rojak'). All in all, what difference does it make, how we pronounc 'either' and 'tomato'? Whether it's "ee-ther" or "eye-ther", "to-may-to" or "to-mah-to", it still has the same meaning. As the comedian Russell Peters puts it, our accents are what distinguishes us from another society. And I truly agree with him. Therefore, let us all be proud to be Malaysian, and not look down on our Manglish!

After all, we are living in Malaysia mah!

I am Jane's self-realization in the middle of the night

Finding myself in the middle of the night, I found little fractions glittering in the moonlight, and part of my not fully mended heart..

As I sat sleepless in bed as usual, I started thinking about all my previous relationships and why they all went wrong. The whole "it's not you, it's me" thing doesn't really make sense. It takes two to form a relationship, therefore, it should take two to bring the relationship down. But then again, I find that I've ruined almost all relationships in my life. Let's not get me started with my parents. Because no matter how hard I try, it just isn't good enough for them. So guess what? I quit trying. Take me as I am. They don't think I'm good enough anyway. and if you're thinking :everybody has family issues, well, you're right, but that doesn't mean I'm just exaggerating. If you think you understand me, you're wrong. Think of it this way, you read about how a mother abuses her child in the newspapers. Do you stop and think "oh, I understand how he feels,"? doesn't make sense, doesn't it? You'll never know how that person feels unless you're in or you've been in his/her shoes. Empathy? I don't really believe in it. I never say "I understand how you feel" unless I really do. It's pointless. Hypocritical. People don't want to hear "it's okay," or "maybe you're just over exaggerating" when they're down. neither do they want someone who'd go "yeah, I think you really should confront that person" or "okay, I'll beat him/her up for you".

As I was saying, it takes two to tango, doesn't it? Well, all I can say for now, is that I'm a person whereby put in a stable constant condition, whereby, food is provided, enough money is given (although no amount of money is ever enough ain't it?), surrounded by reliable company, left in a very comfortable place, with a normal monotonous everyday 9-5 job, a routine-like life, supplied with a sufficient amount of wants and needs, I'd start getting bored. Heck, everybody would! But remember what I said on top. Not everyone is the same. Yes, there'll be a few adventurous souls who'd take a step out of that comfort zone, some of them die, some of them succeed in discovering new things, new ideas, new territories. And yes, the shy ones will stay at home and stick to social stigma. But I'm at the extreme. I tend to forgo the constant and venture into the unknown, taking unnecessary risks, seeking new experience which so often lead to heart-break.

Sometimes, (I really don't know how it happens), my mind wonders into thinking: "What if I never left my ex-boyfriend last year? Where would we be right now?" but the minute I get that thought, I'd give myself a harsh mental slap for being so stupid. Like I said, it takes two to tango. To break up with him was the smartest thing I've done, but then I broke a heart, or so he says, a heart that still aches till today. So much so he still stalks me even though he has a so-called-girlfriend whom I pity because if you think about it, it's quite unfair to her. And all this, I don't conclude myself. I'm basing this on cold hard facts from reliable sources. I try not to hear from him, but bad news has its way of getting around. Firstly, I'm no busy-body. I don't stick my nose into everyone's business where it doesn't belong, but news always has a way of getting to me. And it's not very hard if you consider the number of rumours he and his family has spread. I thank God I broke up with him, because judging from his character, I would have lost much more than my time and my feelings. And I bet you all can guess what that is. This, also, I've heard from numerous sources, and I feel like slapping myself for even AGREEING to go out with such an idiot. It's people like these who give a bad name to men in general. I admit that was one of my most stupidest decisions, but people tend to do stupid things when they're mad. And I was mad at my mum. And just to piss her off, I got myself a new not-so-shiny boyfriend of which I knew she'd hate. Little did I know that I'd land myself into such trouble. It's been almost two years since I've broken up with him, but he still can't shut up. And I wish there was some way I could just erase that memory out of everyone's minds.

As for today, I burnt myself this afternoon, accidentally. As I stared at the patch that turned from red to brown-ish, it dawned to me that my relationships were just like these. I started off with a clean canvas, flawless skin. Except for the blemishes on my face, I had perfectly smooth skin with no pigmentation or uneven tones. But as the years went by, I don't know if there's a connection, but the older I grew, the more scars I got, and faster too. I never had a single scar on my body except for the cut my mum's rotan gave me when I was 6 which until today, is still visible. First of all, my fluctuating body size has contributed to several stretch marks, and of course, I don't like what I see in the mirror nowadays. I wish I was anorexic again. Because I looked good. And people started to treat me differently. That was the only time when I understood what it meant by other people will only see you as beautiful if you yourself think you're beautiful. Say what you like, I'm entitled to my own thoughts, be it social stigma or not, though I was way too thin, I felt more confident than I am right now. If you think that looks and personality have no connections, than you're wrong. That's just something people made up to make the not-so-pretty people feel better, unlike some, the rest of us aren't blessed with good looks, at least not up to our society's standards. So who are we to blame? Blame the gene-pool? I don't know, and I don't want to point fingers. There are some who have the gift of looks, and that has been a great advantage to them. Do they misuse it? Yes, very often in fact.

The hands that Evelyn couldn't let go off in school because they were so soft have been roughened by the household detergent my skin had to come in contact with ever since I started living away from home. The fingers who used to caress the black and white keys of the keyboard, producing sweet melody has now been confined only to O2jam and typing furiously on the laptop. My back which used to be mole-less and freckle-less, now has several moles on it.My knees are bruised badly from a fall I had 2 weeks ago, and of course, my arm. My burnt forearm. It has taught me a lot today. The scars we have on our body, or relationship, some heal over time, as if they were never there before, some leave marks and scars, to remind us of how badly the event has affected us, but sometimes, scars can be beautiful, all you need is some modification and voila! It becomes a new trend. One of the emperor of china's favourite concubine, lady Yong Gwai Fei was famous for her bindhi-like drawings right in the middle of her forehead which she used to hide a scar there, so much so it became a trend amongst the women during that period of time.

Conclusion: I need to learn to control myself.Badly.

Part of me wants to grow up, part of me wants to stay at this age forever, because it's easier to get away with mistakes, whether intentional or not. I blame it all on immaturity and naiveness. After all, we don't have enough experience. Sometimes I know I made a mistake, or sometimes I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I choose to pretend I don't know. Yes, I did something quite bad when I was angry last Friday night (don't ask me what, I can't remember). I don't really regret it right now, but I don't know how to control my feeling right now because my heart says go my head says no. Typical scene right? Anyway, it was wrong from the start. So there's no two ways about it. Goodnight people.

Disclaimer: This blog is not meant for any specific person. So if you 'terasa' then I have nothing to say. And this is my own self-enlightenment. Go find your own. I only really started to learn the meaning of all these sayings last year. Seriously, the minute you experience such things, it really makes you redefine everything the universe has told you about.

i am jane's idealism

After blog-hopping around, I think I'm finally going to settle back here. Anyway, this place feels empty, so I've decided to post a few of the old stuff, stuff which i think are worth reading just to fill in the space. And I'll be back with new stuff soon.

This time, i solemnly promise not to only write when I'm upset or on the eve of my exam! Maybe, just maybe.... this will brighten my world up just a little more...once again.

Writing was the only thing no one could take away from me..I'm just afraid that if I stop, it'll go away by itself...and then there'll be nothing left of me..