One half of the Munchkin production factory

K checks out my newly revamped resume. I technically hold lien over his unborn potential (partially Neantherdal) children as godmother. This is actually documented on the second last page of his high school yearbook, in 2002 (though not the Neanderthal part). OMG I can't believe we left school 8 years ago.


Riza says:
hm i cant really find any fault with ur resume, its pretty good D:

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
tq!
i had a good friend in kl look it over (thanks Jennykins!)
and she has the most amazing copywriting skills
so she polished me up
then another in aus to aussify it (thanks Sooky!)
lol

Riza says:
one thing i might change is profile is extremely broad, but i dont even write a profile in my resume so maybe i'm not qualified to comment on that part

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
i feel brave enough to start applying now i guess

Riza says:
haha aussify

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
lol
as in my personal details?

Riza says:
the profile section right at the start
after ur details

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
ah
what wld u recommend?

Riza says:
well you may want to write the company name directly instead of saying: a Far Eastern division of.... etc
i'm sure the name of the company would (hopefully) resound immediately

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
thats true
only worried the HR ppl might be idiots
lol

Riza says:
also something my advisors also recommend is quantifying workplace achievements if possible
i'm not sure if you can do that with what you've listed though, but think its pretty strong as is
hmm well hopefully HR arent that bad D:

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
lol
u wldnt believe it
esp in Gold Coast
the ppl r like katak di bawah tempurung (frogs in a well. Or something like that)
it's horrible
i swear most of them have prolly nv travelled even out of state

Riza says:
but they know what the Big 4 are?
D:

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
they'r like, huh?
NO
seriously

Riza says:
haha well uhm thats not good
well chances are if they look at large corporation and dont know it they wont know what Big 4 means

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
hehe
im hoping ppl in melbourne will be more enlightened
haha

Riza says:
hm well melbourne has more immigrants right?

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
yes
which is nice in a way
because the awareness of msians not being tree-dwelling, knuckle-dusting uncivilised idiots
is a bit more widespread
oh and i forgot loin cloth wearing

Riza says:
i'm sorry, werent you guys the ones who thought us sarawakians were living in trees?

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
and chest beating
dont forget that
hahahahhahah
well k

Riza says:
haha i see

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
ur furry arms denoted neantherdal origins

Riza says:
my parents arent even sarawakian
lol

janbanks.blogspot.com says:
welllllllllll
clearly nurture won over nature

Update: I just found out the D: emoticon is a grimace! OMG, you should see the three of us together doing The Grimace™. I have repeatedly advised them to perform it during their wedding on stage but they refuse. Party poopers.

It was a strange, bittersweet week

My former office. Please note that not ALL the plastic bottles on the desk are mine. Just so happens that I sit right beside the pantry, which has insufficent counter space.

X, as a kid and Peppy. We've been going over all his old photo albums and reminscing. He basically hasn't changed much at all. Well, except less hair. He looks like his dad (sans tummy), but got his mum's delicate bone structure.

I made blueberry cheesecake. Actually, the recipe called for the involvement of a food processor for the biscuit base. I a) had no idea if we had a food processor b) was too lazy to use/ clean it anyway c) ended up improvising by smashing the buttersnaps in a plastic bag with a beer bottle. And I think I put way too much gelatine, so whilst the cake appears edible, it's got a funny aftertaste to it. Oh well.

Under the Tallebudgera bridge at low tide. See the symmetry, not the sludge.

I discovered Sanctuary Cove a little too late. It's got lovely pretentious cafes there. X and I shared an overpriced lunch at Bahia. My Spanish Prawns were too garlicky and his Fish and Chips had tartare sauce reminiscent of the Fillet o' Fish at Mc D's. As usual, X failed to inform me of the dresscode, so I turned up there in a bikini and denim cut offs (standard Gold Coast uniform), whilst the other diners in their finest I'm-rich-but-dressing-down-in-designer-casuals-with-a-Tag/ Omega/ Rado looked over curiously. This is not the first time. For Christmas 2008, we'd visited X's family in Geelong. I had no idea what the place was like and turned up with a suitcase full of stilettos and high street clothes and spent the next few days in borrowed flannels.

The (semi) grown up's Tamagotchi

DISCLAIMER: This article is meant to be humourous and is not commissioned by any of the companies mentioned. Share trading can be risky and should be performed with the advice of, or via a licensed broker.

Recently, I've gotten into trading shares. I started becoming aware of investments at the age of 18. Upon realising I was getting peanuts from FD accounts, I dumped a large sum of money into unit trusts (also known as mutual funds locally).

It was a disaster. I made something like a 10% return over 6 years. It might have done me more good to have it deposited. Of course, this was also my fault for never bothering to read my monthly statements, confident that time = money, therefore the longer I left the money sitting, the more sex they would have and the more baby monies they would produce.

Clearly my perception of the financial reproduction cycle must be skewed. Or perhaps Papa and Mama money were barren. Or homosexual.

Yet I remain undeterred. After a whole series of dramatic events in my life, I suddenly awoke to a rather strange fact.

I miss finance.

I miss audit. I miss the quiet orgasm of balancing balance sheets. Of investigating investments. Of suggesting suggestions for improvement. I miss looking at large sums with seemingly infinite zeroes whilst trying not to compare them to my comparatively miniscule salary.

If you didn't realise I was a nerd before, I don't think you can possibly fail to now.

Although my current job still has me dealing with figures, commercial work is very different from a professional job. So I announced my resignation two weeks ago and am serving my last week of notice.

(No, I haven't found another job. Leave me your email address if you want to hire me. I'm smart and have a 34-24-34 figure.)

Anyway. Having surfed the ASX website obsessively, I still lacked practical knowledge of share trading. LZ uses CommSec and suggested I look around for a cheaper deal. I found Bell Direct, liked the happy orange font and registered with them.

I'm kidding. These guys are amazing. It's user-friendly and chock-a-block full of interesting information. I still lack local knowledge, so I rely on the Consensus Recommendation tool a lot. But if you're not a complete idiot, it's got everything you need to research every publicly listed share. The customer service is efficient. And it's only $15 per trade.

I am obsessed. I went through an eBay and etsy period where I couldn't stop myself from buying fashion accessories (rocking horse pin, qi pao, Moschino backpack). It got to this point where X would come home, look at my guilty face and ask, "What have I bought now?" (His PayPal account is linked to his Visa, so I used to borrow it.) Now it's shares. At least they don't take up closet space. Though each transaction can buy me a (low end) Chanel bag/ Carla Zampatti coat/ lots of designer underwear/ endless pretty chiffony stuff from Forever New.

And after the high of buying them, it's like looking after a baby. Minus the diaper changing and cracked nipples. For those from my generation, you might remember the Tamagotchi. That stupid little toy you carry around everywhere in case your dinosaur does a poo/ gets hungry/ needs a nap, then beeps non stop until you do something? Well the shares are something like that. They sometimes need buying/ holding (like hugging)/ selling. They don't beep either (← major plus point).

I feel like a proud parent, watching my little portfolio grow. Sniff.

Tambourine revisited

YM and I had last Saturday free. So without plan (or petrol, for that matter), we met up and randomly decided to head the Tambourine region. The last time I'd gone with X, we'd missed out on the Botanical Gardens, so this was our first destination.

The rose garden looked a little wilted and sad in the heat, but there were a couple of beauties there. This was my favourite, in colour.

This little birdie put up with our many attempts to papparazzi him and finally flew off after one too many Aussie salutes. I counted 6 bites, mostly on the back and shoulders.

The local businesses were full of oxymoronic slogans. I suppose they thought it quaint.

I chose this cafe on the basis of looks. Though sadly we were assailed by flies the moment our tushes touched the seats.

He got the Avocado Prawn Salad and I, the Soup d'Jour, which was Bacon and Potato. Having had such lovely, patient long-suffering friends who put up with my love of the non-halal, I completely forgot YM's Muslim origins. The poor bloke put up with my bacon-fied breath anyway for the rest of the day without a murmur.

Bottle brush flower.

The date

X and I went out on a date last Sunday. A date by my standards anyway. X's idea of sophistication is dinner at the surf club, wearing long jeans (though the Burleigh surf club does serve excellent seafood). I made reservations at the Omeros Bros restaurant on Marina Mirage. So even though he grumbled because this required him to wear a shirt with actual friggin' buttons and the price of one main meal could buy 100 kebabs or something, he loved me enough to put up with it anyway so I could actually put on my jewellery and perfume and heels for once.

The magnificent view of a sunset.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures of the food. It probably meant for a more sophisticated palate, which I don't possess. I thought the fish (I got the snapper and he, the barramundi) both could have done with more seasoning/ heavier lemon butter gravy, but the flesh was undoubtedly fresh. The entree of Sweet Chilli Beef salad was okay; we both thought the sorbet was a nice end to the meal.

The Marina Mirage mall received a facelift sometime last year. I hadn't been there since 2006. There's a Max Brenner there!

My new Witchery stilettos (aren't the cut outs in the suede amazing?). I've developed a passion for pricy shoes, simply because I realised wearing shoddy footwear is somewhat self-esteem lowering. Of course, I'm horrendously shallow, so feel free to disagree with my philosophy.

"RAAAWRRR!" The abominable snowman terrorizes the little snowy town of Hermès Display Window.

Frog on motorbike. Ribbit.

Bimbo philosophy

My decision has been questioned repeatedly by many. I guess if you aren't at least a little bit afraid of what you have to lose, it means you have nothing to lose. Which really, isn't a favourable position to be found in. And if you're so comfortable where you're at and not striving to make something more of your life, then you're not really living, you're existing.

I want to live.


Update: I popped out for some fried chicken and realised I left my flip flops at home. The asphalt was about 40C and I parked about 500m away. X will have a field day reminding me I'm a moron when he finds out.

That photo

I ♥ this photo. Whilst in KL, KJ and I hung out and did many random things over 2 days, including an impromptu photoshoot on the rooftop of Lot 10. This is my favourite and has received many compliments (more than any other picture that actually shows my face in it, sadly). In return, I feel obliged to pimp his ride. Seriously, I've known him for 7 years now and he has always been a good friend and an even better photographer. So for any event/ wedding shoots, contact him on his website to feed a struggling artist.

The In-house Mad Hatter

Jan: *chuckles*

X: What's so funny?

Jan:
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!

X: Where on earth is that from?

Jan: The Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland.

X: Did you know where that came about from?

Jan: What?

X: The chemicals used to hold the shape of felt hats. That contained something that made the hatters mad.

Jan: Didn't you used to be a hatter?

X: ...

Indecision

I'm standing in the middle of the forks of forks now. Road-wise I mean. You that poem by Robert Frost? Think that in a kaleidoscope. There are so many factors to weigh, so many people and things to consider. Should I, or shouldn't I? All my life, I've prided myself in making the right decisions (or at least the wrong decisions, in good conscience). 2009 had proven to be The Year of Making Bad Decisions That Cost Me Many Sleepless Nights and Tears. Perhaps it was a lack of consistency in my life. Or the lack of witnesses and unsolicited (read: maternal) advice. I don't know. I used to think I was reasonably wise, but I have been proven wrong. Yet I can't continue this half life anymore. Even the unwise deserve to be happy.

Penang/ Ipoh December 2009

IL, JK, WKS and I had decided to go to Penang. Due to a lack of time, they were also to drop me off in Ipoh on the way back, as I had a wedding to attend.

MYR31,000/ month cousin's gorgeous wedding, where some people turned up looking like mechanics straight after work and random old women walked up to my mother asking why "your daughter so dark, last time she was so fair". The bride was adorable and most relatives seemed to have aged significantly. Bro had booked us into this hotel which had a Men's Only spa (very questionable), but excellent service in spite of the aged facilities.

The tallest Buddha statue in the world, apparently. It looked way more impressive on the poster. The cable car ride up there is a bit of a gimmick, me thinks. I mean, it went on for all of 1 minute.

A view from the top of one of those temples in Kek Lok Si (see below). We developed a theory that the Asam Laksa became popular due to the hungry religious hordes that frequent the temple.

WKS and IL. I think the four characters mean Sea, Sky, Buddha, Earth.

The MYR2 paid to that grumpy nun at the gate was worth it. This place is gorgeous. This lousy picture does not remotely justify the intricacy of the carvings. When I do finally manage the Eurotrip, I'll probably be overwhelmed by a similar sense of wonder looking at church ceilings over there.

Turtles galore!

We meant to stay there, but indecisiveness left us with Shangri-La instead. The interior was gorgeous. Minimalistic luxury. I heard the rooms are equipped with iPod docks, which would have been handy. Try surviving on one full charge for four days with iPod Touch.

I especially loved the pool. You get these private lounge areas which are only accessible by swimming.

This band was awesome. They owned every song. I had a massive girl crush on the vocalist, whom I pounced on after their first set. You see, people hug and kiss random strangers in Australia, and well, they don't in Penang. AWKWARD. But we talked briefly anyway and I told her she was awesome.

Ultraman. I would so go to this kindergarten, if I had a say in the choice. Instead, my mother sent me to Villa Maria, where the principal had hairy curls on her legs and those of us who pooed our pants were washed by village-y women. Not that I did. No sir-ree.

At the Shang looked pretty festive. The availability of wifi was very limited though.

Driving into the Penang Bridge. WKS suggested we stopped to admire the view, but then we decided not to since it was frequent suicide joint and we didn't want to raise any unnecessary alarm.

The Shang. I'm happy to report that the Batu Ferringhi pasar malam is still thriving. Look out of the Chinese guy's DVD stall. It's packed though, so watch your valuables. MYR3 (AUD1) per disc.

Within the parameters of the hotel, it was very civilized and resort-y. The moment you take one step outside, onto the beach, you're assailed by men asking if you want to parasail/ jetski/ get a massage/ make friends. Needless to say, I didn't leave the hotel grounds alone again.

IL, JK and I squeezed onto the king-sized bed. WKS had the extra bed, since he was the tallest of us all (not that we set very high standards). Thankfully, there were no snorers.

It's over

But the show must go on.

Jetlagged

And so 2010 begins with the announcement over the plane speakers, the stilted English of the non-English speaking flight attendant. Adjacent to my seat, the lanky, brown-haired man/boy folded into his tiny seat like origami, unfolds. He pulls a shiny blue party hat onto his curls and blows on his noisemaker several times.

I remain awake in my seat, as I have been and will for the next eight hours.

Truth be told, going back to Malaysia was a shock to the system. For the first week, I was overwhelmed with the number of people (Gold Coast has only 500,000 inhabitants), the human and traffic jams. The humidity was suffocating. My folks had moved to a new housing development, far far away from where I had grown up. My friends were miles away. The shopping centres (read: meeting places) were no longer within a 1 kilometre radius. The extra car had been sold and this new area was completely off limits to any means of public transportation.

But then, I grew accustomed to it. Having my family around, having Matt Matt call me Koo Koo, having to rely on others for transport. Joking around with my brother about our impending (and dreaded) resemblances to our parents. Trying to read Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged (accidentally stolen from Wendy's House in Bangkok) through my mother's talking, Korean soap operas on the computer, Barney-the-purple-dinosaur on the TV and the dogs' barking. Seeing friends through scheduled meet-a-thons at delicious (4 times), Dome (twice) and other cafes I'd missed so much.

And so a month passed much too quickly yet much too slowly. Quick, because I hadn't had the chance to meet so many other people; slow, because there were people in Gold Coast I missed.

"How are you doing there?" A friend asked.

"It's crazy," I confessed. "I have no privacy. I'm surrounded by people all the time. Yet I know, when I'm home, I'm going to miss everyone."

The prophecy held true. I really miss everyone.