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.

45

Stepping into my 45th year of life, I am grateful to have my favourite people around. There’s less personal drama, but stress is now a bigger problem to manage no thanks to the pandemic and work situation. It affects my health and that in turn is stressful to think about. What a cycle.

Still, it is about coping and trying not to fret on things I do not have control over (but idiots are STILL everywhere!).

Here is to another year.

Because wild hearts can’t be broken

I’ve not logged on here for AGES and I don’t know if I’ll be able to write regularly again. There is little urgency to write apart from short captions for work and a bit more for my personal SNS platforms.

It’s so hard to write for myself nowadays. The brain is filled with I have no idea what because while I spend more time at work physically, my mind’s not always at the office. I have the urge to just lie down, to vegetate and do nothing. Not thinking, nothing. All the time. Except when I think about sailing. On a boat or a warship.

I need some sea time. I really do.

The week after

Langkawi race week. My third in four years. Big winds this time around, sometimes too big. Drama everyday, including a man overboard situation, delaminated sails and spinnaker antics that kept everyone huffing and puffing.

Great to see familiar faces and making new acquaintances. Rolling eyes at the same annoying people, sharing stories and laughs over nasik gulai lunch.

Being reminded of my own mortality and physical state of being every morning as I prepare for the next race with bruises and body aches piling.

Back to the real world, I thought Monday would be hell. Turns out that Tuesday was worse but Wednesday (today) is slightly better.

Thanks for another memorable regatta. Guess I’ll see you next year. Maybe.