Here’s a sneak peak of tonight’s dinner.

Mince curry calzones. Omnomnomnom.

Why?

Because I was lazy and that’s the easiest to do. Also, I love kneading dough.

As a direct result of my non-existent social life last semester, lots of late nights and insurmountable amount of money invested in energy drinks, I hereforth happily announce that I have managed to score myself two High Distinctions (means I scored between 85%-100%) and 1 credit (I don’t want to talk about this blotch in my record!).

I thought I should reward myself.

This is where I’m heading on November 28th:

Ringside, no less.

I can’t wait! I missed Evolution 18 because it was in Melbourne and because it was right in the middle of exam week. I was so bummed that week but I think my anger translated into harder work. Haha!

P.S: No one, and I mean no one seems to believe me when I say I love this sport. The same way no one believes that I don’t drink and smoke! They assume I don’t drink most times because I’m the designated driver but the truth is I couldn’t care much about alcohol unless they taste really sour. I really don’t drink or smoke!

The semester has ended a week ago and I still haven’t felt I rested enough. Possibly because I dived straight into work?

Anyway, to summaries a whole 12 weeks of being absent from my beloved blog: I hit the ground running, and didn’t stop until the 16^th. It was a HUGE rollercoaster. The main reason for it is because I enrolled at the last minute, so I was behind for almost a week. And anyone doing MBA can tell you: there’s a LOT you miss when you miss just one week of materials.

Hero was neglected, and I struggled to keep a balance between my personal life (which means Hero), studies and work. I struggled really, really, really hard. This will never happen again, I’ve learnt my lessons.

However, I refused to let it consume me. Compared to others, my plights are nothing. I have full time career mum in my class who are doing their Masters/MBA at the same time and I can’t imagine having kids in my mix…but they have and it’s not optional. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to be done with my MBA before I have kids, because I know I can never do what they do. I see them with a mix of admiration and horror.

I was lucky in that Hero is very supportive. For 12 weeks he made do with irregular meals, and coming home to a very messy home. Sometimes last minute laundry. I learnt to make time with him for dinner most days, and then resume studying when he’s sleeping.

I cut back on work.

I learnt A LOT in my first semester. Doing an MBA is definitely different than doing a Bachelor. My first day in class, we were warned that a business bachelor degree prepares and groom you to be a business executive. An MBA “grooms you to OWN and MANAGE those executives under you. This is not a training class for business people. These are classes for future chief executives.”

No kidding. It was THE hardest semester in my tertiary life so far and for the first time in my tertiary education, my draft papers were returned to me with so many markings, so many improvements to be done. Let me tell you, my ego took a bit of a bruising because throughout my Bachelor degree I always thought that I write good papers. My Bachelor’s best was not good enough for an MBA and I count no less than 8 returns on my draft for each subjects, with instructions on how to better it. After I got over myself and my ego, I took those advice to heart and honest to God, I submitted possibly the best papers I’ve ever written in my tertiary life. I got High Distinctions on ALL papers, and I was gobsmacked.

Those serve as a lesson for me. I went into MBA program thinking that it would just be a continuation of my business degree. While it was useful groundwork to have a business degree and be familiar with the jargons and the industry, that was probably as far as it got me. In writing papers for all my three subjects last semester, I found out that I had to seek out professionals in the field and pick their brains, which was both very exciting and intimidating. On the other hand, I found out that the phrase, “I’m researching for my MBA paper” makes it easier for people of station to want to see you, lend a few minutes of their time to pass on their knowledge and take an interest in what I’m learning.

The outcome: by the time of writing, I’ve been mentored by at least 5 important people in the industry, for free, with no obligations, simply because they have met me, saw the drive and interest and decided that I’m worthy recipient of their knowledge and connection. I have a lot of gratitude for my first mentor, the one who introduced me to the second, and who introduced me to the third and so on.

With those connections, my eyes have been opened so wide that I now see opportunities everywhere. I will possibly blog about it, possibly not. We’ll see how this goes.

Anyway, that’s the summary of it. I’m taking summer break to work and save up for next year’s fees so I’m not due back til March. I’m making sure this time around I’m fully prepared and by January, I’ll start reading textbooks!

Alright. End of commentary and will resume the Mad Penguin self in subsequent posts. Here’s The Mad Penguin thanking you for reading those abovewritten craps.

P.S: I SO missed everyone so I’m doing my rounds next week!

I’m sorry if you came here and expect to read something…I don’t really have much to offer these days.

Studies and work have been keeping me on my toes. I thank God that created whoever it is that came up with the idea to put caffeine into yummy energy drinks. Without it, I’m cuckoo.

It’s not that I don’t want to blog, it’s more like I have nothing much to blog about nowadays. Unless you want to hear how I jump out of bed, make myself breakfast and pack Hero’s lunch, and then get out of the house to spend time in campus to read another huge bulk of ‘scholarly articles’. And then come home to make dinner, and crash out for the night. And then I repeat that about 5 times a week, varying it with work duties.

Yeah, riveting stuffs! I’m sure you want to read all about it but out of modesty and humbleness I will not do so.

Heh. Yeah right.

I promise I’ll still come around and visit everyone!

Man, can’t wait for the holidays….

Sunday Mail have released the Top 100 Queensland Rich List yesterday.

At the bottom of the list (#100) is Terry White, founder of Terry White Chemist. So what is the net worth of someone at the bottom of the list?

$45 MILLION.

There you go. None of us will be able to even get to the bottom rung of a rich list. I hope you feel much better about your life now!

However, if you’re like me and actually got motivated by the whole list then read on.

Halfway through the list is the Saragossi family, net worth $195mil.

The king of the Queensland’s rich this year is Clive Palmer, the mining mogul. Net worth, $6.23 BILLION.

Yes. BILLIONS. Want to know something interesting? That billion that he’s got, is $320mil LESS than what his net worth was last year.

The man loss $320mil but is still sitting pretty? Top that!

Notable mentions: Number 38, net worth $232million is Malaysian-born geologist Sammy Chong. Putting two and two together, I’ve decided to quit my Masters and just stay home and wait for the wealth to come, seeing that I’m a fellow Malaysian. Something tells me that’s not gonna work but hey, it’s all about thinking and getting your brains working. At 6am.

So, to us hoi pollois, what does this list mean to us? Aside from making us more depressed than we have been before you read this? (I’m sorry!)

It means that us—yes, us—as in you and I, us—can do it too.

Why do I say that?

Despite some people in that list inheriting their wealth or built up an inherited company and gained wealth in the process, more than half of the people in that list started out as normal people. Or as the case of the Tony Quinn (number 51, net worth $194mil) he started out dirt poor.

Spunk, guts, intelligence, right place at right time, call it what you want but there’s no saying you cannot achieve it.

Now, let’s have a bit of fun. Let’s do some calculations!

Oh wait, I’m sorry. Maybe that’s not fun for you guys. Which is why I’ll do it for you. Cos my Banking and Finance degree says I can.

I’m going to calculate how you and I can get to our first millions, solely depending on my big brain’s mechanism.

Heh. I joke. I’m using this calculator. These are all in Australian dollars. Assuming that interest rate is 5% p.a and America doesn’t do any further damage to our world’s economy (I joke! I joke! Don’t flame me.)…

• if you save $400 per month, which is doable because it’s only $100 per week, you’ll reach your first million in 48 years 10 months. Which is very good news if you’re reading this at 18. Not so good if you’re 50 years old. I’m sorry, old geezers.
• However, assuming you old geezers are in beneficial employment, and thus not a starving fat student like moi, and thus can afford to put away $1000 per month, it’ll take you 32 years 11 months to reach your first million. Not too bad, that’s only $250 per week!

But let’s say we have a set time that we want to reap our $1mil. Say that we want it within 20 years: with zero savings, you will need to save $2,432.89 per month.

That’s not too bad!

Of course, my calculations is grossly simplified because I did not take into account mortgage repayments, car loans, recurring bills, that money you owed on dad’s credit card when you were a wild partying student (who me? Never!), and all the other financial commitments that will come later. But still, that figure gave us a glimmer of hope and hopefully anyone reading this will be motivated enough to find a calculator that will correspond to their currency and budget.

You can still use the Australian Government Savings Calculators, and play around with the variables. Change the interest rate (if applicable). The currency should not be an issue because it is calculated based on numbers, not denominations. Meaning to say if you put pesos, dinars, rupees on it it’ll still work. As long as the monthly amount corresponds to your earning abilities and whatever it is you can afford to set aside. For example, I always say weekly because in Australia you’re usually paid weekly or fortnightly, and $100 per week is not that hard to come by. However, this number might be irrelevant to others who are paid by the month or whose currency value is different (100 Japanese yen and 100 Swiss francs are totally different from 100 Australian dollars!).

So go ahead, use the calculator and start squirreling away money. Your goal don’t have to be 1 mil, it could be anything and knowing how much to put aside to get there is always a motivator.

If $2500 per month can yield you $1mil in 20 years, imagine what $1000 or even $500 per month can do?

With that note for thoughts, I bid thee adieu as I prepare to head to uni. You know, all in the name of gaining a paper so I can slave this rich-in-fat self with any of these rich people.

Har har.

My grandma will be buried today, though I’m not sure when. It’s not a good feeling not being there to say goodbye for the last time, but I’ll honour her memory by paying her back with success.

Thank you to everyone who have sent their condolences through comments (thanks Shinta, Amiey and zeL). Thank you for your condolences through email, especially those of you who are seas and continents away. Thank you to everyone who sacrificed 50c of their phone credits to send me a text messages, and may you know now I spent $30 credits on a single day replying to all of you! Stella was first…her text message was so immediate, within the few minutes that I submitted my post, I was so surprised! But thank you, Sister.

I had to delete some of my text messages today because my phone had a meltdown on me. ‘Phone memory is full, please close some applications’, it warns me. And you know why? I counted as I deleted the messages this morning, and 67 of y’all love me enough to send me your condolences.

SIXTY SEVEN!

And that’s only in text messages.

If not for the sombre nature of the ocassion, I’d have felt like a rock star. (I warned you about my eternal optimism, didn’t I?)

Thank you for your messages, for your prayers, for your advices and for your profession of undying love and loyalty. Y’all make me feel like an army general. Now, we shall march and invade Swiss and their chocolate technology!

Times like this makes me feel that I am blessed. Even though God took something away from me and my family, God have always given plentiful back.

In another year, her and Grandpa should see me on my way to world domination. Or something like that. Grandpa might have a thing or two to say about my method though!

In respect of her memory I’m going on hiatus for a week. So here’s wishing everyone a good week ahead and remember, cherish the ones you love now because you never know when God decides to claim them back.

My grandmother has passed away, around 1pm Malaysian time today. She passed away in her younger sister’s house. After bath. Or maybe during bathing. I’m not sure. The details are sketchy at the moment. I do not want to call around and ask because as it stand now, most of my uncles and aunties still do not know fully. I do not want to add to anyone’s grief by demanding them a detailed account. My grandmother has passed away, everyone is grieving, what does it matter how she passed away at this moment?

You know, my late grandfather passed away on a Friday too, just a little more than 12 years ago.

How do I feel about my grandmother passing away?

I felt really, absolutely, extremely, immensely grateful I went home last month. I saw her for the last time, laughed with her, talked to her, hugged her. I told her about Hero briefly. Ate with her. I didn’t think that was the last time I would see her but I don’t want to look at it that way. The most important thing is I got to see her, and she got to see me smiling and happy. Particularly considering I left the country 2.5 years ago in great rage and great grief.

I feel relieved that now she is finally free from her many ailments and pains. From her loneliness eversince Grandpa and Great Grandma passed away. Not that she was on good terms with Great Grandma, mind you. But at least she wasn’t alone then.

I feel sorry that I am not there to see her go, to give her my final goodbye.

But I feel happy and proud that she have had a good life, after she has had a difficult life when she was younger.

I hope she left the world in peace, and in want of nothing.

May your soul rest in peace, Ibu’. May God have kept a place for you with him and may you meet Ibu’ Delai there again.

Cos you know, I’m sure after 12 years the two of you will have a lot of catching up to do.

Oh, and tell Grandpa I’m about to follow his footsteps. He’d be mighty proud, the old guy.

This never fails to put a silly smile on my face. I’ve been cleaning out my emails (when I should be studying) and I found this old forwarded email from waaaaaaay back. Like, 5 years ago! I don’t own this so I have no idea where this is from, which hotel this is, which country…etc.

Apparently this happened in a hotel when a hotel guest (hereafter referred to as HG) dialed up room service (RS). The exchange is hilarious. If you can’t figure out what RS is trying to say, try to read it out loud.

Enjoy!

RS: Morny, rune sore-bees.

HG: Oh sorry, I thought I dialed room service.

RS: Rye. Rune sore-bees. Morny. Jewish to odor sunteen?

HG: Yes, order something. This is room thirteen-on-five. I want…

RS: Okay, torino-fie. Yes plea?

HG: I’d like some bacon and eggs.

RS: Ow July then?

HG: What?

RS: Aches. Ow July then? Pry, boy, pooch…?

HG: Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry. Scrambled, please.

RS: Ow July thee baycome? Crease?

HG: Crisp will be fine.

RS: Okay. An Santos?

HG: What?

RS: Santos. July Santos?

HG: Uh…I don’t know…I don’t think so.

RS: No? Judo one toes?

HG: Look. I really feel bad about this, but I just don’t know what judo-one-toes means. I’m sorry…

RS: Toes! Toes! Why Jew Don Juan toes? Ow bow eenlish mopping we bother?

HG: English muffin! I’ve got it! You were saying toast! Fine. An English muffin will be fine. We bother? No. Just put the bother on the side.

RS: Wad?

HG: I’m sorry. I meant butter. Butter on the side.

RS: Copy?

HG: I feel terrible about this but… Copy.

RS: Copy, tea, mill…

HG: Coffee!! Yes, coffee please. And that’s all.

RS: One Minnie. Ass rune torino-fie, strangle-aches, crease baycome, tossy eenlish mopping we bother honey sigh, and copy. Rye?

HG: Whatever you say. Okay.

RS: Tenjewberrymud.

HG: You’re welcome.

Hope that put a smile on your face, or even better you’re laughing your butt off now. A couple more days and it’ll be the weekends, woot woot!

Good morning, people!

The housework is all done and dinner is cooked, Gladwrapped and frozen.

It’s 5.30am.

2 weeks after the initial start of my postgraduate.

What? 2 weeks!

2 weeks that I barely remember or noticed have passed, as you can see!

I’m sorry for my silence. I’m a bit off with time management right now and any free time I get, I used it in beneficial pursuit (translation: I sleep my butt off).

So, in order to distract y’all from my silence, I’m going to point you to another direction (translation: gerroff this blog cos I have nothing interesting to say today. Unless you want to read about how I tricked and wrestled the dog to the shower cubicle to have her washed. That stinky mutt!)

(Oh, and how she doesn’t want to ‘talk’ to me at all and make it a point to only ‘talk to dad’. Someone remind this dog I feed her everyday without fail, please? So I tricked her into bathing. So what! She’s lucky I only bother to do it once a year! Dog nowadays, I tell you…)

Because there is nothing interesting to say in the 2 weeks I’ve ‘disappeared’ from the blogosphere, I’m going to send you elsewhere. Pack your bags, and let’s travel from Australia, the bestest country in the whole wide world for having Tim Tams, invented Milo, Lamingtons and Pavlova. We shall flap our magic wings all the way to…

…the land of the Vikings. The Faroe Islands!

Yes. You heard me. Faroe Islands.

Never heard of it? Rest your troubled geographic soul because neither have I…until a college mate decided to take the path less taken, marry a Faroese and earned a cool surname.

How’s vid Neyst for total Viking coolness? I’m officially jealous. If Hero and I ever take that step, I’d just end up with a very Irish surname on top of my very Latin name.

(I had a short identity crisis last week when Hero pounded this fact upon me. It dawn on me that nothing in my name will be Asian when I take his surname. But anyway…)

Not only do this starry eyed, lovey dovey couple introduced us to the existence of this beautiful island, strengthen our belief that pure love and commitment exist, they also documented it in their blog: Hans and Shinta. And how’s that for a very typically Viking and Indonesian name? I can’t wait until they decide to name their kids.

Go to the blog and then wow your friends and the world with your newly found Faroe knowledge. Then you can brag to everyone that you, and only you, know there exist a land called Faroe Islands. Unless you’re like me who happen to have a Norwegian friend whose mum is actually Faroese.

Thanks Rolf for making me feel inadequate.

Or Finns friends who have known the existence since they were born. Or Swiss friends who think I’m a bit weird getting all excited about it. Or German friends that doesn’t seem to care much about it. Or…

You know, I think I have far too many friends. Need to scale them down a bit.

(I joke!)

P.S: I find that reading the blog before bed is the best remedy for insomnia, and trust an insomniac person on that. The beauty and tranquility of the island and the couple just spill over from the blog…and you go to sleep assured that the world is indeed a much better place!

My man spoils me to no end. He is the main reason I’m able to keep a certain lifestyle.

“Your money is for you. My money is for US,” he once said. Oh, how I love him.

He buys me chocolate almost everyday. YES, YOU READ RIGHT! He used to buy me a packet of Tim Tams each day til I told him it’s not doing me any good. He was shocked. It’s like alcoholic saying alcohol doesn’t do him any good, or a coke addict that says that coke isn’t doing him any good.

Do you know how much fat packed in a packet of Tim Tams?

You don’t want to know.

Not that I know, really. But you know, I know. Yes. You know I know that you know that I know. In that order.

So nowadays he buys me little chocolates. Like a small packet of Kit Kats or mini Cadbury bars and the likes. And he knows when to scale back…at least once or twice each week he let me go without chocolates so I don’t keep on going on and on and on and on and on about how I shouldn’t eat this chocolate this time because I have eaten this much chocolate this week (while I eat said chocolates).

My point is, my awesome man don’t see the reason behind why he shouldn’t pamper me. That’s one of the best things about him: he thinks and feels that I’m entitled to all those things his money can buy. Except another dog, a rabbit, three hamsters, a Bengal tiger cub, a koala and a pet crocodile. I don’t know why I’m refused those. But I’m working on it.

There are times when he send me off shopping with an obscene amount of money… sometimes more than double what I can earn in a month. He finds it amusing I’d go and use the money for oh, maybe a manicure and a facial, one or two clothes, a toy (usually in the shape of a kitchen gadgets) and then…two trolleys of groceries.

He never believed me that grocery shopping is part of my ‘fun shopping’. I don’t know if you do too but if you’re as kitchen obsessed as me you’d understand. You go into a supermarket and you start creating recipes in your head just walking down the aisle so you just start grabbing stuffs. Heck, I should own the supermarket and just used it as my big ass pantry!

However…

Sometimes even I think I’m too spoilt beyond reasons.

Last night, for example.

Last night wasn’t a cold night.

Last night both of us were not cold.

But Hero insisted on making a fire. “You’d feel cold if you get to bed later, baby,” he insisted. I told him I doubt it but he insisted.

Insisted that the fire is for me.

Yeah, yeah, like I don’t know. Why can’t he just admit his pyromaniac tendencies?

So we opened a bag of firewood, and I let him play with the fire. By the time I was ready for bed I was SWEATING in winter. I keep kicking the doona off me and everytime he wakes up a bit he covers me again with it. So the vicious cycle that whole night was: kick doona off. Get it draped back again. Kick doona off. Get it drapped back again. Kick…

But I didn’t say anything because the fire was meant for me (yeah, yeah) and a boyfriend that keeps on draping you with a thick down doona because he thinks you’re cold? Dude, some people pray and offer human sacrifices to have my kind of man!

I didn’t want to sound ungrateful so I endured it that night.

This morning at 4am he again insisted that he put more logs into the fireplace and I again insisted that I am NOT cold.

“You can’t study in the cold, babe,” was his reasoning. “And maybe you’d like to sleep again later.”

I doubt it. I have tons of case studies to analyse (WHY? WHY? WHY) and I was already on my second can of energy drink at 4am. If I can sleep after that, I’m so gonna sue the company for misleading information.

So I let him satisfy his pyro-tendendcies again this morning.

No joke people, it is sweltering hot in here.

Never in my life have I wished the fireplace never existed.

But I’m still thankful I’m a spoilt-rotten girlfriend.