Saturday, December 31, 2005

Last day of 2005.

It’s not my fault that I couldn’t get to civilisation. Where everything is money driven and electrically powered. I was handcuffed to the bed. I think they were the fluffy ones. How would I know, I was blindfolded as well. I was stripped to bare necessities.

Days and days I was denied of contact with outside world. I was a possession and I couldn’t get away. I could have anything I wanted funny enough; food, drinks, books read to me, bath, anything at all but 2 things. Clothes and contact with the outside world. So, no apologies. I miss you lot really.

Now that I am back writing, I want people to know I am still in captive. This is my cry for help. Please send me some money so I can plan my escape. I have written to Michael Jackson for some money. At least I won’t spend it on some 100 stupid Sony robotic dogs I said to him. I don’t know if that will go down well. I mean £5000 for something that doesn’t do anything. Mike, for the love of all children black or white,
( I am slightly yellow tinged brown), I know colours don’t matter to you. I am waiting please send me money.

I spotted some queries, that people wanting to know how I look like. Why Naj do you not want to show your full face? Because I don’t want to you mushrooms, I am still sane. Why do you think I don’t want to ‘naik pelamin’ when I get married. To be stared at and analysed and compared? I have issues in that department and I don’t think I will ever overcome. Maybe a bit like Jordan the glamour model, I need to be told daily and frequently that I look just fine, and that he that matters to me loves me just the way I am.

At Christmas party, (the one I was faffing about so much), I was hit by a crisis. Didn’t know how to respond to the compliments. Dr. Perv said ‘You look lovely Naj, we shouldn’t let you wear those scrubs anymore’. Big boss sat next to me at the table and he paid his compliment. Corrrr, it made me want to blend with the ceiling beams, I was floating so high. People in this country do that, they pay compliment. I never noticed that culture among Malays.

That wasn’t the crisis though. This is. It was time for a group picture and I was at the back standing with the boys. Because I am an anaesthetist. Boy or girl, still. But they’ve put some chairs for all the ladies as in wives and partners to the bosses at the front. The flashing started from the many cameras and the boss spotted the not quite right matrix we got ourselves into. So I was shoved and squeezed against my will and hence the picture. I mean do you stand or do you sit? I mean how do you cope with such identity crisis. Too right.

It was a good night until the boys and I decided to meet up some nurses in town and the drama began. Do you think men don’t get jealous? Like hell they don’t lah. That is another topic on it’s own. It’s called MEN DON’T GET JEALOUS? YA RIGHT.

This is getting longer than I thought it’d be. I am not going to be sentimental about New Year, it comes it goes. Make sure each year is different to the next. Do worry if years starting to blend into just some those years. Each year should signify something, an achievement hopefully. Success comes to those who value time. A year is made of many months, many hours, many minutes many seconds. So don’t let a second pass you by without stuffing it solid with good thoughts. For good thoughts bring good actions. But don’t forget to be naughty and live life to the fullest. You hear me?

Girls and boys, sunrise sunset swiftly flew the years. One season following another, laden with happiness and tears. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

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