"Houston, We Have a Problem"

. . . An effing problem with procrastination, that is.

On a less self-denigrating note, here's one of those songs that you just gotta fall in love with once introduced to. On days that just isn't fall but not quite winter, short of hours before doomsday strikes, this is a always a good song for the lonely. Heck, it's a good song for the lonely. Period.

Kadang Kala, Tahi Berlaku

This coming January, I'll be ditching the harsh Midwestern winter for the sun and all its glory in Cape Town, South Africa. Good for me, right? Yeah, awesome possum. But the possum isn't so awesome when what ensues the prospect of participating in study abroad programs is the arduous task of subleasing my apartment.

Mind you, it is not as easy as publishing friendly ads online and slapping eye-catching posters around campus while you goyang-goyang kaki and wait for those e-mails to flood your inbox. Especially not in the aftermath of the credit crisis and a shaky real estate market in Hyde Park, Chicago, coupled with the fact that less students transfer to the UofC during the winter quarter (who in their right minds would trade their comfort zone for deep snow that loses its novelty after a week and the awful wind chills that chap your lips and crack your skin, right?).

And especially not when you are a susceptible victim of deceit of one of those *tooting* Nigerian scams. Especially not that *blood pressure rising, temple throbbing*.

Did I just lose you at "Nigerian scam"? Are you nodding your head now? Never heard of a "Nigerian scam"? Well today is your lucky day, because with the powers personal experience has vested upon me, I will brief you about those *tooting* schemes.

In my college, this Nigerian scam phenomena is so prevalent that you're a social leper if you don't receive their emails. Congratulations to myself, because in a field I would rather not, I am not a loser. I used to receive an average of 3 fraud emails a week. The emails begin and end with extremely polite salutations involving the use of God's name in vain, perhaps to latch you on with their *cough*fake*cough good manners.

The conman then establishes himself/herself as the legal attorney of si polan who has just passed on and would like to honor si polan's wishes by granting you an X sum of money as testified in si polan's will.

It's entertaining and indeed laughable to think I am suddenly related to a good 20 plus people in Africa (presumably Nigeria) or that I can become a millionaire overnight without lifting an eyebrow. (Mungkinlah I have a penchant for sexy African/African American men, but I'm pretty sure the last time I checked I am born and bred a Malaysian Malay (ha ha)). It's even more entertaining to think that these people think people can be had.

Realizing that half the world are chuckling at their petty stratagems, these lowly creatures are now penetrating the online sales market. They scour sites like craigslist, ebay and college marketplaces and pretend to be interesting in buying and selling.

They pretend to be innocent, non-smoking female college students studying in UK who are transferring to The University of Chicago and are looking for a place to sublet. They also pretend to be the naive young girl who needs daddy to write the eager tenant a check and who waits for daddy to present her with ultimate directives.

Oh, don't worry, the only money I've lost over the weekend was to a Juicy Couture purse (handbag for the non-initiated) and 3 pairs of new shoes I don't need (damn those Black Friday sales). Receiving a check for $4500 signed by a different payer (not Laura Baily or Martin Scott) from a bank in California when I asked for $600, while the FedEx was delivered from Maryland when daddy is in Essex just points to something fishy that I can smell 10 000 miles away.

What I've lost was the time and effort spent over a long, week-to-week correspondence with an imaginary Laura Baily and her daddy, Martins Scott. What I've lost, is apparently my common sense; because how on earth did I not realize that daddy should have been a something Baily? What I've lost is my fuse because right now I want to kentut in the faces of the a-holes behind these nasty ruses.

Learn your lesson from my lesson learned: Bad english (beyond the common "that's mean" or "oversea") is a telltale sign of a scam. Especially when the foul language is coming from someone who's presumably "English" and residing in Essex, UK.

 

Date: Wed, 25 Nov 2009 20:07:25 -0600
From: Martin Scott
Subject: RE: Payment received!
To: 

Hello Nurjannah,

    I thank you for your email and am happy that you finally got the payment.The payment was sent to you from my client and he made mistake of forwarding the whole amount($4500) to you. He should have sent to you a month's rent and security deposit and have the remaining sent back to my Travel agent so as to book for laura's flight and some other traveling expenses that will be incurred.
  
      Thanks for the mail and your honest transparency, the funds you got was to secure the unit for my Daughter and i hope you are aware she will be taking unit for a period of 12 months or more ?
 I will need part of the funds to get her flight booked as am on a business trip now to secure my goods in transit and will not be able to make her flight bookings please deduct the first month's rent and the security deposit from the payment you received and send the balance via money gram money transfer to my travel agent so She will be able to get her a flight booked. She manages all our travel and tours through out the states,She needs the money to get Laura's flight booked and pay for other travel expenses that will be incurred.


Pls send money via money gram money transfer  to:

Name: Dorothy Beasley
Address:1260 Spring St NW
City: Atlanta
State: GA
Zipcode: 30309

Note that a transfer fee will be deducted from the funds you are sending

I will appreciate you help her out by putting her through as soon as she arrives in the States so she can get a bank account opened that way i will be able to send the remaining rent fee to her all at once when i get back from my trip ,so she can pay you on the first or each month or all at once pending on how you want the fee.


Please send the funds to the information above and email me the actual amount sent and the REFERENCE number and the actual amount sent.
As soon as i get the details i will forward you her flight itinerary so you can be aware of her arrival date and time .

Thanks a whole lot for your offer of accommodation i really do appreciate.


Martins.

                           A DEPENDABLE NAME IN ELECTRONICS WORLD

Oh, kadang kala, tahi memang berlaku. Well, I have the last word for now: "I'm honest and would not want to cheat you off your money". Ambik kau liar liar pants on fire.

Pictures For Another Day

I have a volume of pictures compromising my delicate identity as a cutie (haha). Really. Feast on your eyes on these latest (or old, if you want to be technical) snapshots that have found its way to my collection.

Imagine my horror when a primary schoolmate posted these old pictures on Facebook, where they are available to all willing eyes and ready laughter.

They were taken circa 2000, and I was bawling next to Sofia (one of my dearest friends) over our UPSR results. Uh-uh, I was that lame; to think it was only UPSR and I obviously had a farther journey and a million more hardships to endure (like the current battle with this procrastination disease I contracted in my tertiary education).

But it's okay, I'm actually keeping an inventory of these sensationally ugly pictures for memories of what a silly jester I am. I think It's important to be able to see unpolished images of yourself, because after all, the most human of people are people who can laugh at themselves.

Keep the pictures coming. We have an album to fill and with that, years of laughter ahead, friends =)

Am I Doing The Pantomime?

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinion, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." -Oscar Wilde

What if we are nothing underneath our skin? Perhaps we are merely a collection of thoughts learned, quotes found, passions emulated and dreams followed. Maybe I am. The thought is too depressing for a weekend half wasted. Oh tidak. I need some green tea ice-cream. And some catching up with the surreal biatches living their unrealistic lives in the Upper East Side. Oh boy.

Open Letter to Nima from Azriel

In another compartment of my life, there is that world of Ben10, High School Musical and Hannah Montana I am missing. Because, in another life outside of school, I am Nima, the young aunt to two very precious kids. The knowledge that there are two idolizing kids putting me high up on a pedestal is such an empowering feeling. It keeps me going.

Attached herewith is a letter--obviously written by my dear and only sister--in the voice of my nephew Ayell, that has brought me much warmth despite the encroaching winter. (Yup, fishcake and curry, winter is hurling here in a hurry!)

Dear Nima,

We received your Halloween Card with much love and thanks. Kakak Myra was soo happy to receive it that she actually kissed the card a few times. I (Ayell) was psyched too and instantly took a pen to sign my autograph on the envelope and when Kakak scolded me I proceeded to bite her hand... That was fun coz I enjoyed being Dracula.. Die die die!!

Anyways, we miss you lots and looking forward to receiving the much promised costumes for next year's Halloween.. and oooh, some candies would be good too!! hehehehe especially Mummy's favorite Resse's Pieces cup and other Hershey's goodies. And knowing Mummy she will surely have her own list of her wants - what else is new? Papa's already given up on trying to change Mummy's shopaholic-ness.. :))

Kakak Myra will be going to HSM the Musical in December with Mummy and seperti biasa I kena tinggal lah... Ben10 is on next weekend but Mummy says that we can't go coz we nak balik kampung.. So kesian me right?.. But no worries, I will terrorize Mummy and Kakak so bad they will regret not taking me to HSM.. Gooo Wildcats!!

Mummy is currently looking for a HSM related costume for Kakak to wear to show and I know exactly the cheerleader uniform that Kakak can wear.. In fact, I can also wear the Wildcats Jersey if I'm allowed to come.. However, Mummy says that it is too expensive in Mothercare for something we'll only wear once and so she's currently looking for some knockoffs.. Well I wish her good luck!!

I think that's about it for now.. You should really check out my pictures at Mummy's Flickr.. I must say I've grown into such a handsome Japanese / Korean boy lookalike being, unlike my Uncle Sir.. hehehe but sometimes Mummy says that i look a lot like Uncle Sir and that my temper is exactly like his too.. that's kinda scary, but i wouldn't mind being smart and articulate like him and you...

Do take care Nima, and remember that we love you lots!! You should really call Mummy soon coz I think she needs to trash out her not so teenage drama life with you.. Surely you don't think you're the only ones with the drama do you? hehehe.

Your Nephew,
Azriel Ben10 Mirza Ultraman Hasmanizar

ps: you should also check out this hangat cum notty pic of Kakak Myra and Aunkie Long 'drinking' during Aunkie Long's birthday lunch... Sheeshhh right? hehehe

 N.B:
Uncle Sir is my brother's moniker among the kids. He has this Hitler-like dream that the kids would snap to his command and salute in respect when greeting him with the nickname. And the thing is, they idolize him so much that they really do hang on to Uncle "Cher's" every word, ie Nima gets beaten every time Uncle "Cher" tells the kids to. Dammit.

Aunkie is aunty in baby talk of the Ismail household. Comel lah sangat sampai rasa nak picit-picit budak-budak ni.

Project Apartment 2009

The present me is nothing like the old me.

The old me, during her high school years, had boys to finish her woodwork for the practical component of Living Skills Studies. The old me got her sawed pieces done, only to find that she couldn't connect the pieces together because her "tanggam parit" was not level. She then miraculously found her project become Jack's. Jack, by the way, was a year older, and had no business whatsoever in the Living Skills workshop. Jack would cordon off some time for my woodwork and even recruited a couple of friends to help expedite the "Help Poor Nj's Ugly Woodwork Project".

The story did not not end there. My multi-purpose wood box was to come with a quilted cover. The beginning of the project was easy enough. I picked a cool-looking cotton cloth, I cut the pieces, quilted it fine, had the teacher trim the edges, but patience I had none when it came to fitting the cover over the woodwork. Off to a tailor in SS2 the cover went. And that, my friends, was how bad I was at all things practical.

But as I said, the present me is nothing like her old, inept self, especially after I find myself heavily vested in a pet project dubbed Project Apartment 2009.

Project Apartment 2009 was not an easy task. It began in April with a search for an apartment, and it couldn't just be the high-rise apartments most international students seem to prefer. I held fast to a dream of living in a quaint, walk-up apartment that was as far away from campus as I could get. Most students who embarked into the off-campus world would opt to live within walking distance from the quads, but I wanted to to be put up close to the lakefront (Lake Michigan).

5430 S. Cornell Ave, Apt. 5R possessed the fierce desires of my heart, and more. Papers were signed, fantasies began, and the project was flagged off.

The search for all things interior and secondhand was by all means long and difficult. But tenacity (and not to mention superior persistent bugging and bargaining skills) pays off, because my roommate Samina and I, both have a place we will be in love with until the day we leave school.

The new me, is someone who disassembled and re-assembled her secondhand furniture, from scratch. Armed with an Ikea toolbox (borrowed, and not yet returned, haha) and sometimes no instruction manual, I screwed, hit, twisted and pushed things into place. Sometimes it took an extra limb or two or required interesting squatting positions or laying down on pieces, and I did it all. Sometimes it took gentle hammering and patience to dislodge a piece while other times required simultaneous jumping, pushing and grunting. But it's all good.

The new me, is someone who painted a feature wall with her favorite color all by herself. For a first timer, it is a job well-done if I must say so myself. There are minimal smudges where the masking tape gave in to the paint, but otherwise I took the pains of wiping the paint with warm water when the stain was unbearable for this naked eye. The new me, is also someone who painted a full-length mirror just so everything in the room matches, and the white bare walls opposite the feature wall didn't look too boring.

The new me takes pride in knowing the different tools in the toolbox and praises the Living Skills curriculum for that. The new me is someone who thinks of playing engineer and tries to repair a broken DVD player, and then surprises herself completely when she miraculously does.

The new me has a home she sort of built from scratch, and she is proud of that.

The new me, unfortunately, is still too short to change a light bulb without a chair. Dammit!

 

Credits to Chong Han and Saleema Nawab for helping Samina and I transport our stuff on that rainy, gloomy day in June. Heartfelt thanks to Adam Johari and Kudzai Ndondo who spent days helping us carry everything in and out of the car or UHaul, via flights of stairs, firescape and spiral staircase and finally, into our home. Adam Johari and Adzwan Anuar also took this little kid to the funland called Ikea, and she owes them one.

Hugs to Samina Lutfeali who shared my ideals and built this comfortable home together. Special thanks goes to Maggie Chow and Huiying Chan for selling me a bulk of the furniture in my room. Project Apartment 2009 couldn't have materialized without these people. Grazie and gracias again.

Sleepless in Chicago Waiting for Perfect Man to End Her Sleepless Nights

I'm accepting boyfriends with captivating cover letters and brilliant CVs. Talents aside boring academic achievements and computer literacy are given strong preference. Although a good GPA is a strong indicator of your priorities (be it upright, or not right), I am willing to overlook that tiny detail if "spooning" is included in your list of experiences.
 
Merits are given to men who possess the ability to make others laugh, who don't mind listening to a woman's pointless, verbose stories and most importantly, who is not berkira. You will automatically be considered if the application covers some experience in patiently waiting for an indecisive girl while she shops.

All things considered, applicants with successful achievements at domestic capacities (like cooking, washing, cleaning) will be shortlisted for Webcam interviews. This is not, in any way, hinting at the possibility I will make a lousy wife. Rather, I am looking for men who would like to share the love and burden in the upkeep of a household, and not the "You duduk dapur, I tengok bola, makan pizza jadi buncit" kind of guy.

A detailed account of your previous relationships are encouraged, but not required. Note that intimacy and how you "got physical" with your exes are one of the few things I absolutely don't have to know, don't want to know and don't need to know about. Euw and double euw.

Since I am an equal opportunity "recruiter", I ask that you please don't include your passport-sized photos. I look for your "voice" in the CV, not your handsome Bollywood face, your mancung, mat salleh-like nose, or your $1000 braces, thank you very much.

Personality, no doubt, triumphs over beauty, but I would be extremely delighted if you could kindly insert snapshots of your fingers and arms. Long, nimble fingers are my fetish, and strong-looking arms with tersembul-sembul veins are the kinds I dig, kapiche?

 

Effective immediately, with an open deadline to date. No longer accepting applications once this frantic search for the imperfect men perfectly perfect for the imperfect me is over.

Please revert applications to njahmat@734 eh eh tekan tekan tak dapat.

JFL ya'll. (Just for laughs). Just for laughs, right. And to let off some steam as I pull off, yet again, a late night in the library.

As a parting treat, enjoy some cheesy ads I found from fusion101.com.

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm a very good looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cozy winter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, Call (xxx) xxx-xxxx and ask for Daisy. Our Note: The ad above turned out to be an adoption offer for a black labrador retriever 8 week female from the Atlanta humane Society. It had 15,000 calls from men all over the country!!!!

---

Knight Seek His Queen
Male Seeking Female, 28 years old, 6’ 4” tall
This knight in shining armour is seeking an audience with the queen. If you enjoy having a man make you dinner, a man who will sweep you off your feet, treat you to the world of never ending respect, with adventure, humor, kindness, relaxation, and love mixed in for a solid foundation, than perhaps you are the queen for me. The Knight requests a Queen who will dress to impress. I will bow at your feet. If I sound interesting or you have a wish to find the man of your dreams, look no further, your Knight in shining armour has arrived.

---

1970 GMC w/Jet Skiis SWM, NM, GL, NS, SD, AC. Low mileage, custom paint, long sandy blonde graphics. 6'2" Lift. Bright hazel headlights will take 20-30 SF anywhere. Email for free test drive/ride.

---

When I was thirty my dates had to be young, tall, handsome, rich, intelligent. Now I'm 64, they only have to know how to read and use the telephone!

Bopping to BEP, Finally

You may have seen this video on YouTube or Facebook, but I'm putting it here just to remind myself how lucky I am to be given the chance to study abroad, namely in Chicago, The Windy City. You should know that when my brother alerted me about the video this summer when we were lazing about and stalking people on Facebook, I had tears in my eyes. Tears of what? Of joy, of pride, of exuberance, of giddiness, of sadness that I missed it all . . . I don't know.

Although I bitch about the academic integrity, The Life of The Mind and the load of crap my school prides itself on, I am here, aren't I? I'm learning from the best set of educators, working alongside the creme de la creme from the world and over, and I'm living in a great metropolitan that offers me a wider perspective on what is the world. There is something exclusively awesome about getting the chance to be in Chicago, and I can't quite express it in words.

All I have to do is suck it up, hold my head up high, and make the most of my time here, not just thinking about making  the most of my time here.

p/s: I realized my past two entries have been centered around sourness, and I don't even recognize my usually chirpy (albeit annoying) self. I must have sounded unlike the happy-go-lucky person you think you know. But there you go, I guess there is more to me than the smile plastered on my face. But we all have our ups and downs, and I hope you don't mind me dwelling on my such phases.

The morale uplift I get from expressing my thoughts (even if it's a tenth of what I feel, and two-thirds of what I really mean) helps, and your readership keeps me alive and wanting to write, eventhough I don't write as often. Thanks!

Fall 2009: An Abridged Update Of My Sad State In Life

"Or we might talk about the other great nemesis of the bathroom cleaner--pubic hair. I don't know what it is about the upper American class, but they seem to be shedding their pubic hair at an alarming rate. You find it in quantity in shower stalls, bathtubs, Jacuzzis, drains, and even, unaccountably, in sinks. I once spent fifteen minutes crouching in a huge four-person Jacuzzi, maddened by the effort of finding the dark little coils camouflaged against the egg-plant colored ceramic background but fascinated by the image of the pubes of the economic elite, which must by this time be completely bald".

-Barbara Ehrenreich, Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By In America.

Loving this witty excerpt read for one of my favorite classes so far. Enjoying my Macroeconomic class' emphasis on the government and welfare. Hating the grades and time-consuming problem sets due almost every day of the week (but what else is new?). A liberal arts education doesn't get any better than this when it gives you a full spectrum of emotional flavors.

The angst of securing a summer internship kicks in, due to impending travel to South Africa in January. Not to mention the strain of living up to the gloating statements I made about not returning home for next summer.

Tears have been shed over personal matters (notwithstanding the fact that the event also occurs once in 30 days, as some acquainted readers would know). But life goes on, this time with the new Macbook soon to be in my possession. I was told by one good friend that "Once [I] go Mac, [I] never go back". This is too sexciting, after 7 weeks of living live without the desirable convenience of working wireless, whenever and wherever I please.

A jump for joy is in line, even if the struggle out of loneliness and proving myself worthy of the rigorous academic life never ends.

Oh, and you noticed? Yeah, I changed my blog layout, for the millionth time, I know.

I'm Not Dying a Katok Virgin

Two years is the amount of time I have patiently confined myself to a diet regime of halal meat that strictly meant Indian/Pakistani cuisine in long stretches of time. Two years is half the duration of my complete stay in Chicago. Two years, simply said, was halfway through the battle against myself.

Yet, I have failed myself. I am not dying a katok virgin, and I'm not proud of that fact.

You think I'm religious? I think not. I think going katok is the least of my worries in the mass of sins and debt I've accumulated against the Almighty. In fact, I don't think it's such a big deal as some legitimize this action by claiming that it stems from the nawaitu of the proprietor. Believe in a valid reason, they say, and your action is vindicated from the wraths of dosa.

Now that is my problem. My being in a major city that allows me access to halal meats and poultry forces me to believe it's not permissible for me. Therefore I have sinned.

Pacing around town with an empty stomach on a cold October night in Chicago was perhaps not the smartest action. The time was 10.30pm. It was a time when restaurants were already closed or were closing their doors to customers, and Cheesecake Factory saw to a long queue waiting for their awesome cheesecake suppers. It was a time when famished people who decided to forgo a sensible early dinner like me was bereft of many choices. Walking into a tavern whose menu bore Buffalo Wings as a specialty was not much help either.

So I succumbed to the physical pain of walking for too long; the psychological angst of waiting too long; the incessant seduction of the devil; and to the expectation of consuming a gastronomical treat I yearned ever so much.

The buffalo wings was not worth the smeared record that was my strongest principle. Dry and tasteless, the buffalo wings repleted me with the strongest lesson that gluttony doesn't pay. I swear that would be my first and last.

I do not blame the night on my companion (who, by the way, happened to take pictures with the intention of blackmailing me). I blame myself. But I am not so intent on wasting my time on matters of the past, the control of agency and the complications of timing and circumstances. Rather, I am more worried about the sense of self and the grip on limitations and principles I am slowly losing.

In more ways than one, this episode tilts me to a series of self-doubt I am not strong enough to combat alone. Sometimes, I feel more alone than ever eventhough the materials of life, I claim, keeps me happy. Friends are long immersed in their own pursuits of academia or life in their separate colleges, while close friends have new close friends of their own.

Self-doubt is undoubtedly self-destructing. I am praying for a turnaround.