I’ve missed the kopsalad. Like, “one day we were BFFs and the next strangers” kind of miss, which I’m sure most people have felt at least once in their lives.
At the point I stopped updating, I was going through not just 2 separate jobs with two separate crazy demands but also free lancing opportunities outside your average 9 – 5 including nights, weekends and all that. If I was an entrepreneur, business was way good!
And when that wound down, I thought a treat was in the works. Some serious me time was due and I ran (flew) half way round the world for 3 weeks to recuperate. I thought being a kid again would do the trick (it did. Thanks Disney World!).
After the trip, more than 2 months had passed since my last update back in April. How time flies! Everyday that passed with no blogging, it became pretty clear I was never going to log into WordPress ever again. Outta sight outta mind syndrome. Although, that nagging feeling of remorse from abandoning a much loved project did creep up when least expected.
Excuse the drama, but having a blog is like being in a relationship, I tell you! It screws up with your emotions when you don’t update but it’s a double rainbow feeling of accomplishment when you do. It’s nice to have an outlet for expression.
Just about a week ago I got an email alert on my phone from WordPress with the subject: Domain kopsalad.com will be auto-renewed
That’s USD$26 charged straight to my credit card. Which I could’ve cancelled. But I didn’t.
Like all love-hate relationships, I have a soft spot for this little space I can call mine on the world wide web. So I’m all for milking the most of my hard earned USD$26. If not, at least it’s somewhere I can whine about how little loyalty some people have. Like footballers.
By now you should know, I mean Suarez.
Okay, so to you it must have seemed that I’ve packed up my Mac and completely disappeared from the big wide blogosphere; never to type and share another rant or glory of my daily doings ever again. Well you’re wrong my critics!
I have been MIA in writing, yes. Did procrastination play a role? Guilty 😦
But that’s just a little, I promise.
Aside from my day job and Thursdays on Football Overload, I’ve started working on a new travel web series which will be released in a few months. I’ve just been bursting inside to talk about this travelogue, but decided it’d be best not to reveal too much before we were at least halfway through production.
I haven’t really had time to digest the events that have taken place the past few weeks, let alone to share it here on kopsalad, although, trust me, it’s always at the back of my mind. If you know of some magic spell or just you know, a smart phone app or something to remind me tomorrow is not a suitable day for doing things that need to be done today, pleeeeease share.
On the subject of sharing, I’d just like to share one of my favourite photos at the moment.
I was totally overboard with my “OMGs” when I saw it. Lana Del Rey was at Anfield! With Stevie G! As if her music alone wasn’t enough for me to love her.
Although not as much as I loved that match winning penalty by the captain himself.
Now that was quick wasn’t it?
Felt like we just celebrated the dawn of 2012, slightly nerved by the possibility that the world could come to an end (RIP Mayans). But here we are still standing, breathing and watching football.
If I could put a theme to 2012 for me, it was a year of change. Lots of it. Personally, professionally, physically and even spiritually. While they say change is the only constant, and often for the better, it is always accompanied by some sort of draw back and discomfort.
My dad once told me, ‘you can’t build a new house, until you tear down the old one’. Imagine the process of deconstructing an old house or rather, bulldozing through it. Debris, dust, in short, chaotic. No one wants to live in that sort of environment.
But in its place, you now have a blank canvas to start over and design a brand new spanking home to fit your exact whims and fancies. Yes, I’m talking to you Brendan Rodgers, sir. Liverpool are in a rubble, so please take this January transfer window as an opportunity to bring in your dream strikers/attacking midfielders that we desperately need.
On that note, for 2013, lets all aspire higher. Aim for the moon, and even if you fail, at least you’ll land among the stars. That’s like poaching for Messi but reeling in Franco Di Santo instead.
A girl can dream.
Happy 2013 everybody!
Since I haven’t had much luck (read: bad time management) with blogging on a regular basis, I thought why not record video logs?
I’m not shifting completely though, because I still enjoy the occasional writing.
So here goes nothing…
Don’t be fooled by the rocks that she’s got, JLo will perform for you rain or shine – living up to the phrase, ‘the show must go on’. It was crummy weather for a concert (in an uncovered stadium) but I think after Urbanscapes, Malaysians have embraced rain to incorporate colorful raincoats and wellies as an extension of their style.
The minute Miss Lopez stepped out though, it was more like, rain? what rain?
There’s no other way to put it, I loved the show. Love love love. 4 days on, I’m still trying to find a cure for the inevitable symptoms of JLo withdrawal (on loop on my phone, laptop and car).
The concert was split into 4 parts: Old Hollywood Glamour, Back to the Bronx, Love (my fave!) and Partying complete with videos and choreographed dances in transition. Every element was thoughtfully placed, and nothing was put on without purpose. Above all she mastered her connection with the audience. Sort of makes you feel you’re at a mamak having tehtarik with an old friend who’s confiding in you. Okay, maybe more like cocktails at a bar with ‘On the Floor’ playing in the background.
There was plenty of entertainment, pyrotechnics, confetti, eye candy (omg her dancers are hotter than the hottest hot I’ve ever seen – *swoon*), energy and not forgetting booty action!! The lady can move! Her energy levels are insane.
Oh I could go on singing praises about her but here are a couple of snapshots from the concert;
Although the concert’s known as the Dance Again World Tour, its underlying theme was essentially, love. In between songs, she asked the audience what is love, what it means when you find it, and what it personally meant to her.
About an hour into her set, she delivered a moving performance of ‘Until It Beats No More’ set against a video backdrop of her playing with her twins and gushed that “she finally found true love”. So sweet! We love you JLo, we do. Wouldn’t put on a RM8 plastic raincoat or ruin our sandals walking in mud otherwise.
Have any of you attended a baby shower before? If you’re above 25 chances are you’ve been to a few already by now and if you haven’t, go crash one (please don’t quote me on that, I refuse to be held responsible when a hormone enraged woman comes after you).
They’re extremely fun, not to mention funny (one of the girls actually strained her neck and took a Panadol from laughing too hard). If anything baby showers are just an excuse to gather your closest girl friends and act silly before you lose them forever upon baby arrival.
Our very own Hunny or better known to the world as Hunny Madu, is about to undergo a life changing experience from peace to no sleep, smelly diapers and shrill screaming all day everyday in just a few weeks so we thought we’d throw her a special going away party before the storm hits. Since she’s weird, wacky and acts like a monkey it was only apt that the shower was themed Animal Safari.
One of the games we played was Kiss the Owl. How it works is that, an owl is passed around the table and each person had to kiss a part of the owl and remember where they kissed it. Simple right? Here’s the punchline: Hunny now becomes the owl! So wherever you kissed the owl earlier, you now have to do the same on the mummy to be. Needless to say, there were a few lip locking and bum kissing involved.
And no baby shower is complete without some diaper action! Which I graciously lost, I might add.
Animals of the enchanted Madu Forest
Funny how ‘ROARRR!’ was behind the owl instead of the panther. Or just art imitating life? She is the feisty one. I’m just a little kitty. Peace!
Told you she was a monkey. M for monkey, not madu.
Hehe. Monkey with the biggest heart. Baby madu is going to be one lucky girl. We’re counting down the days!
Once upon a time, the Blackberry was the holy grail of phones. I felt so privileged to be able to ask someone ‘what’s your pin?’. Owning a berry was your golden ticket in to a clique where communication barriers fail to exist, opening you to a whole new world of gossip and TMI (too much info) chatter. Stuff that was sacred and limited to the confines of that sleek black device. Whatever happens in BBM, stays in BBM. Even the first few generations of the iPhone did little at best to put a crack on the BB anarchy.
And then it lost all relevance. A little perspective? If you accidentally left your phone at a restaurant, the waiters chase you to return it. True story.
For the past few weeks I’ve been complaining and whining about my primitive ol Blackberry. I’ve been waiting, and waiting and waiting for the release of the iPhone 5 in KL to no avail. It always made sense to expand my existing happy little Apple family with a sibling, hence I never considered an Android.
Good things come to those who wait, they say. They never had friends who’ve ignored them over tea because they were too busy Flipboard-ing or posting that same #tea as #foodporn on Instagram. Smartphones are supposed to enhance your life, not take over them (yes I’m talking to you. Don’t shake your head).
So I waited indignantly, and then just about everything about the berry began to irritate me.
Like how it was so run-of-the-mill. The internet browser is a joke so funny everyone forgot to laugh. ‘PING’, period – possibly the most revolting thing about the berry. More so the personality of someone who would actually use it just because you took all of 30 seconds to reply. It had no Live Score app for the Liverpool matches I missed (more than half already this season). That everyone who messaged me on BBM were people I didn’t want to talk to anyway (ex boyfriend, ex bosses, annoying colleagues).
“It’s shit. My Blackberry is shit”, I used to say to people, to myself, to my cat.
The universe heard me, alright.
On a recent work trip to Jakarta, I dropped the berry into the hotel lobby’s toilet bowl.
My soul spiraled down the black hole briefly too. And pride – yes I dived in after it, but not before assessing the situation – it was clean, relatively. I mean, don’t hotels clean their toilets every hour, on the hour? I don’t really want to know the answer to that.
Moral of the story is, law of attraction isn’t just some wish-wash theory! Wish and repeat a certain mantra often enough and the universe will conspire to make it happen.
For about 12 long hours I was phone-less and utterly gutted.
Until I got myself a new toy – Samsung Galaxy Note 2 – to play with. Granted, it wasn’t my first or second choice. Or third now that I think about it (iPhone 5, S3, 4S – all unavailable at Maxis). It was the Note or no phone at all. A girl has her needs.
All dressed up in a pink sleeve and a crystal jack too. Love!
My friends say I need an intervention. Tweet me with the hashtag #reemneedstounplug and maybe I’ll take notice, guys.
There’s something about men and balls.
The sporting kind, snap back to reality, this is somewhat your typical family friendly blog written by a girl.
This general fixation with all things round have you guys chasing, hustling, kicking, hitting, bouncing and largely fighting (in every sense of the word) each other to essentially prove who has the biggest *ahem* balls. This time I refer to the junk.
I’m sure there is an existential theory out there that has some proven relativity to this ongoing obsession, but I’ve decided long ago that there’s a huge probability I got some version of testosterone that relishes field balls just as much.
Football’s a given, and a few others I favor include tennis, basketball and rugby. Which isn’t basically American football without the pads. I don’t consistently watch rugby aside from the bigger events, and when I do, I usually wonder why I don’t make it a habit to watch it more often. The set plays and formation are lovely to watch. It may seem like an oxymoron with the amount of contact in the sport, however the passing in reverse laterals come off as somewhat, graceful.
So I had the pleasure of working over the weekend covering the action packed Borneo Sevens International Club Tournament hosted by the Sandakan Rugby Club, home of the Borneo Eagles and Sabah Eagles.
The team hard at work to bring live streaming of the entire tournament. They did such a brilliant job, so proud of them! All I did was finish those pack of Chipsmore cookies you see on the table there. Now you see it, now it’s in Reem’s tummy.
My vantage point
One of my most favourite pictures ever, that I took on my iPad *pat on back*
The Borneo Eagles were runners up in the competition, second only to the Fijian club Daveta.
I even managed to get Adam (also known as ACDC) to put on a my favourite piece of clothing. How? Now that story deserves a whole other post. If I ever feel the need to justify it. Because essentially, no one and I mean no one, needs a reason to don a Liverpool top.
Let me take you back to the exact moment I discovered my heart belonged to Anfield…
It was when I visited Anfield.
It was like how Newton discovered gravity, when he sat under a tree and an apple fell. It’s really quite unremarkable. But its effect and consequence are profound.
As profound as it gets in football anyway – a vow to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part (which in today’s climate refers to: until you get relegated to the championship).
That was back in 1996. I went along with my parents to visit my uncle and cousins who lived in Loughborough and because mum was a die hard Liverpool fan (I must reiterate though, that I’m not a fan by default) we went on a road trip to Anfield, Goodison Park and surprise, surprise, Old Trafford too.
We didn’t catch any matches though, just checked the grounds snapped some photos and shopped for souvenirs. At that time the Shankly statue wasn’t even erected yet. There was an air of unparalleled heritage, glory and nostalgia. A feeling you can’t really explain or comprehend without experience.
By then I’d already had an inkling towards this great British pastime, introduced by mum having friends over on weekends for good food and well, the opportunity to shout at the TV. So this fascination was not entirely foreign, but standing at the legendary grounds, I fully understood.
(I’m still trying to locate a photograph from this trip to insert in this space).
When I got back to KL, I got a copy of the official LFC magazine, saved up 10 pounds (about RM40 at that time), got my mum to prepare a bank draft and sent in my application for an annual club membership. I also decided Robbie Fowler was my favourite player. His statistics speak for itself, but I held on to the fact that if I suffered from mild dyslexia, he’d be a flower. Michael Owen hadn’t debuted at that point.
The rest as they say, is history.
Fast forward to 2012:
It was just another Thursday for them.
For me, a childhood dream manifested (and trying hard not to stumble on pronouncing Henchoz or saying flower out loud)
You know how writers always stumble upon writer’s block? Yes it happens to non-writers too.
I’m not a writer, professionally – although I had hoped to be at one point or another growing up – but I have some sort of block. Or an aversion to form an opinion on anything of late, just because. So I came up with a list of lies to excuse myself from posting –
1. When I’m not writing up a post, my thoughts are engaged in writing, thus I am writing. You just can’t see it
2. Just a few more minutes on Zalora, Net-a-porter, Fashionvalet etc
3. Just a few more minutes on anything other than WordPress
4. I need a new camera. I need a new phone. I just need the iPhone 5
5. I can’t decide if the Samsung S3 is indeed better than the iPhone 5
6. Snapping photos and making mental notes at an event to blog about later robs me from the experience to fully indulge in the moment
7. Liverpool are still at the bottom half of the table
8. My hair is too long and I need a hair cut (???)
9. I’m turning mid late 20’s in 15 days, and aging just means more cellulite (double ???)
10. I don’t need to reveal every detail of my life on the Internet because a) everyone will read it, b) no one will read it
And there you have it, today’s random thought.