The New Adventures of Sarong Terbang

Sometimes, moving out means moving in inside out.

It has been exactly 2 months since I moved out from this place of 3-years-and-4-months. Many memories buried inside, and quite many dreams that I have to choose to leave behind and make few things right.

The place was remarkably peace and quiet, with lots of greens and bushes that Orang Asli constantly brought up their shotguns while riding on their Kriss motorcycle towards uphill, presumably hunting for monkeys or trying hard to imitate Arnold in Terminator 2. Once in a while, shots were heard. And once in a while too, sound of joyful Orang Asli can be seen clearly when they ran towards downhill; screaming and laughing upon catching their prey. Residents from both high-rise condos just watching happily, and both sides of the world are in harmony.

Things changed, and changes changed things.

The condo have cracks here and there, and further development with endless dusts from lorries carrying almost everything and running up towards the hills, destroyed the peace. There’s peace no more, and my work is also ran downhill; stagnant and stuck in a rut. Parents advised to move out and smell a different place, and so I did. From there, things really changed. And it felt really good.

Despite the old-green and quiet place are already different with coming-soon connected highways, once in a while I went there to see the unit from below; how quiet and peaceful once upon a time it was. Its like visiting our own kindergarten and wondering where the time has gone all this time, and perhaps by leaving something behind it’ll be our only chance to see it from afar, for a very good reason.

Sometimes how a period of time can’t be bought by money at all, and by living far away might be the only time we can see what lies beneath our Mahathir-nose all this while.

Toodlepips.

In the previous entry about politics, I’ve mentioned about how politics can pay handsomely, depends on which side we’re on.

If we’re talking about relationships, seeing this small & cute flower pot makes me sad every time I steps in into my office; no matter how hard I’m trying to save the dying flower, the vase will remain faithfully the same.

I’ve learned a forgetting-lesson that I should have been remembered years ago when I was constantly asked by my mother to water her orchids; it is not just about watering but it is also about pampering. Get to know the plant than the flower itself, get to know the vase better than the things inside it.

In politics, when we’re just concentrating about politics and not doing our real-work, we’ll be dismissed as someone who only knows to show the front tooth but annoyingly can’t do any biting at all. And most of the time, when we thought that we know the knowledge by repetitive self-taught, we might be forgetting that such knowledge are already well-known to others. As much as we do our politicking by squirting out knowledge, we are less-often self-teach ourselves about new knowledge from others.

Too much watering is absolutely bad for flowers, but it does not necessarily means the only way to save the dying flower is by pouring waters, especially when I should have known that the small pot contains water-containable thingy. Too damped for the whole week, and the plant died. I was sad not because the flower died, but I was sad because that I didn’t realized much about taking care & knowing more about the vase. Relationship is actually that vase, and the flower is just an outcome from it.

And when we put ourselves less politicking in a relationship, and perhaps in other work that we do, surely we will be paid handsomely in one side that we least expect it at best.

On the other note, took this picture today, just outside the office. I squinted my eyes few times before knowing that this car is not a real police car from Gunma Prefecture Police Force, from Japan. Turbo-charged Selangor-plated 19inch wheel of classic Volvo, I envy much of it.

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