What's in my head
peeling the layers. maybe
The Post: Introducing Our Editorial
News is thriving indeed…
Apa Khabar is too young and, admittedly fragile, to be aspiring to serve as a healing station to national strains.
That, we collate pains and troubles slowing down the nation’s progress; put together plain views and solutions; and, spring remedies onto the nation.
Mana Boleh?
In any case, is that what post-modern journalism should be striving for?
Apa Khabar, plainly, intends to ask the big questions on the limitations, and the reach of journalism now that we have landed on a new site.
In its previous existence, journalism appeared to be carrying the national load on its shoulders.
Of course, we published Letters, Opinion pieces. Yes, we carried quotes, faithfully so.
As the scrutiny on journalism intensified, we missed, to cite one situation, the opportunity of marketing the profession. It is a career of choice!
We wondered if Malaysians were reading the stuff we were writing. The verbatim reporting…
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いつか、誰かとまた恋に落ちても
I was browsing when I saw this series title and clicked on it for the synopsis. Utada Hikaru’s song started and I was like… oh damn… Because my playlist is stuck in the 90’s and First Love is part of the set up.
On this eve of my 46th birthday, and after stopping myself at episode 5 of the series, I thought about my own 初恋. Or rather, my first unrequited love.
Looking back, I realised that I have always had the difficulty to express myself well, unless it was in writing. And even then, it was hard to be honest and say how I really felt to someone I like. I was a pushover. Yup. That’s it. I didn’t fight for who I wanted, instead I just let him break my heart.
That summer of 97 was when I had to make a clean break. I vaguely remember a long distance call from Fukushima to Manchester where I said quite a bit and continued to wallow in my pity party for one. I remember being invited to his wedding a few years after we graduated but while I’ve moved on, I didn’t think I’d be able to go without being affected by it.
I guess the drama series and Utada’s song made me a bit nostalgic, and although I sometimes wish to feel young, I wouldn’t want to go through my 20’s again. There were too much feelings and too many heartaches. I’d rather be this cranky old lady who is comfortable enough in her skin to just do whatever she pleases.
The prize at the end of the rope
I need reminders of why I’m still doing this. And then I saw this. And as I was looking through photos this morning, I found some of me onboard KD LEKIU during her voyage to the Far East in 2019. There was even a folder full of pics of my promotion in the ward room.
The photos brought memories of what the then Deputy Chief and the CO said to me. And how the whole voyage had given me quite a few milestones as a reservist on full time deployment. Kalau tak sedar diri jugak, aku tak tau lah.
The Storyteller
I finished reading Dave Grohl’s The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music at almost dawn, my eyes stinging from tears and my heart full of feeling.
At one time, a friend had told me that I looked like Dave Grohl. I was in my cap-wearing phase, hiding my long, messy hair under it. Heh.
Anyway, the memoir was a good read and I enjoyed it. Shows how much editing was done to it. “A good story is written, but a great story is RE-WRITTEN.” His words were simple yet I was able to sometimes visualise and at other times feel what he was saying.
“You fake it till you make it” is a phrase he used a lot through out the book, showing his insecurity of receiving offers to work with his idols and music greats and to be considered their peer. But he stayed true to his self at every turn and the pay-off was a joy to read.
Of course, he wrote about Nirvana. The life, Kurt Cobain, the aftermath. While the band lasted for only three-and-a-half years, it kind of defined him for most of his life afterwards. How he picked himself up again, playing and making music again and to be able to live life among the living.
A few times I was reminded of Anthony Bourdain and his brand of wit and humour. Not the same style, but there were some parts where I felt the same tug to the heartstrings… Or maybe I just miss the chef from New York.
What's in my head 