Jg's Journal - a cool Sarawakian blogger

I salute this lady. She's an awesome reporter who reports details of her surroundings. She has this acute observation of her daily life and jots them down in her blog. And she takes pictures everywhere she goes - while travelling in a car, petrol kiosk, her domestic life etc. It's really inspiring. And I've allowed myself to slack in my writing, shame on me. I think it's about time to whip out that camera (now, where did I place it?) and start to nose around. Am not a newsletter's writer for nothing, right?

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Delicious Foo Chow's treats

Kampua Mee

Golong a.k.a Pisit

RC (my husband) and I had lunch with a bunch of friends at Tropicana Mall today. I ate Fishball Noodle Soup and RC, Steam Chicken Rice. Not bad actually but quite pricey (RM12 per pax). Taste wise, like I said it was ok but I couldn't help but missing 'Golong' or 'Pisit' and 'Kampua Mee'. Delicious Foo Chow's treats (I mean real treats at RM3.50 per bowl), sell at a corner coffee shop at Sarikei's tamu. Man, how I yearn for them even as I type these words.

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I won't show my face for now

I told myself that I would never write about myself ever again in the Internet after some unpleasant experiences I had on my previous blog. But I couldn't keep that promise for too long. Four months to be exact and here I am, being a big mouth as ever. Just couldn't keep myself to myself. The difference is I won't reveal who am I exactly, and the name that I use is just a pen name. There will be photos in the future but none that will show my face. I feel comfortable that way. But I don't know whether this will put off my readers but hey guys one gotta keep her privacy. But I don't say that it'll be forever. Maybe I'll open up and say "look at my face, ain't I pretty? hmmm...", but the time is not now.

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My point is...

Ha! Again another blog. Typical me, never settle for anything for too long. I've another blog here but I thought I just want to use this one to talk about my life as an Iban girl (not a girl per se but who cares) who is flying high far far away from her roots but always yearning for the olden days. Heck, I'm not old just wistful.

I was having a conversation with a friend about three months ago about how we butchered our mother tongue (man, I was having a hard time spelling that) and adopted other languages to communicate with each other everyday. I thought about it for awhile and yeah, he was right. Even though that I can speak fluently in Iban, I certainly would stumble in certain words - even basic words - to express myself. Shame. It made me thinking, where am I in this grand scheme of thing as my ethnic shuffles along with the rest of the world? I guess I'm lost. No matter how much I love being in my parents' longhouses, I can't stay there for too long. The cyber world would call me and nudge me to move on. There's my work and general commitment to life.

But then I don't belong in this great city either. I feel lost among ubernites. Modernization with its stark rigidity repulses me for deep within I long for a carefree existence with nature, my hardworking folks toiling under the sun, and jolly good time with a simple cup of black coffee (or tepid Milo) and tasteless crackers. I miss that. I'm in transition. Neither here nor there. So, there goes, this blog will record that unique point of view of someone who is searching for an assurance to move on and carry her heritage with grace and pride.

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