Aduh!!!

When our car got hit from behind, that was the exact word that gasped out of our throats for each hit that collided into the bumper, and that was the one thing I remembered so clearly for it all happened so quickly, amongst other things that were quite traumatic enough. My boyfriend in the passenger seat, me in the driver’s seat, getting our heads knocked about with series of the most unpleasant thuds and bangs we’d ever experienced in our lives. Ever.

It was our first car accident, whereas my boyfriend had had his motorbike accidents for four times, hence the scars on various parts of his body. Luckily we were not injured but escaped with a few shocks on our nerves systems – our necks and heads throbbing and hurting every time we try to move them.

I’ve been agonizing over it since then, wondering and thinking and doubting and self-convicting myself. Even blaming myself, at some stage, whenever I thought about it, which was bad, I know but couldn’t help myself not to.

We were on the fastest lane on the freeway that evening. The guy in front of me was driving the Suzuki APV in a jerky sort of way – speeding up and slowing down and it was at a point when he just stopped all of a sudden and I couldn’t brake fast enough. Everything happened so quickly and yet every hits and every bouts of it was happening so slowly, and if you’ve ever seen The Matrix and the bit when Neo was avoiding the bullets then you’d know what I mean.

I knew I was going to hit him. I knew there was no way avoiding it.

What I didn’t know was that it wasn’t over yet, and that I was about to be crashed into from behind for exactly three times in an exactly the same interval and the thud was so hard and loud and bloody painful, during the time it was happening all I could think of was I was in total deep shit – the deepest I’d been in. The crash from behind pushed us to hit the APV again, and this happened twice, until the car finally got to a halt.

When it all stopped, I held my boyfriend’s hand, asking if he was alright, and he asked the same thing, both completely stunned and shocked, like it was all a bad dream.

But it wasn’t. We were still there.

When I got out of the car, I saw four cars behind me were not equally as damaged as mine but much worse. Miles worse. Mine was minor, if comparison was required.

The middle-aged Chinese guy who hit us with the Lancer was already out and he was just standing there, arms akimbo, examining the damage from his car, shock and astoundment all over his face – pretty much like me. I saw a lady with a baby in her arms about fifteen meters away. Another bald Chinese dude in work outfit clutching a mobile onto his right ear, examining the others who hit and got hit. I caught a glimpse of an Avanza and its front totally crimpled over.

My boyfriend arguing and yelling every single explicit words he knew to the guy in front of us.

Soon the towing car arrived. We were holding out traffic and jamming out the freeway. It was all a blur for me anyway. I still couldn’t believe it happened. To this very day I questioned it. The how’s and why’s and yet still not knowing the answer.

When the freeway officer told us to drive aside, the APV just drove off. At first I thought I was going to pull over and try to sort it out but at that stage it was no longer anybody’s fault. So I continued driving home.

I remembered calling my mum previously and she was frantically worried and the reception was so bad she thought the car was wrecked to pieces and I was bleeding all over the place.

When we got home, we just sat on the couch, hugging each other, holding hands, feeling like we wanted to cry but too distressed to do so. I called my mum and told her I was home and she said she’d be on her way immediately.

When she turned up she didn’t get in the house. I wondered what was taking her so long and I realized she must be inspecting the damage. When I opened the door she saw me and right away she hugged me and told me not to worry and that she was glad she didn’t lose me. We were both bawling our eyes out and I was so relieved she wasn’t at all pissed off with me.

My boyfriend stayed the night. Despite what happened we were thankful. Incredibly thankful. It could have been worse. We were left unscathed, and everything could be put back to normal, though money would be in much need for repairements.

He said to me that perhaps God wanted to test us, to see what we would do if dreadful things happen upon us – whether we’d curse or give thanks, for whatever was given would also be taken back. I knew it was right and even while it was happening I knew it was so. I was so relieved that we were okay. I was even more worried to those who were behind me, and felt guilty because I kept thinking that maybe I could have done something to prevent it all.

While I was busy speculating about – my head practically making whirring noise from all the thinking and wondering, my boyfriend retorts good-naturedly, “I think you better stay on the eighty from now on, hun.”

And I thought – Shite. I’m a twenty-five year old female driver going on sixty.

*) Actual event happened on the 6th of March 2007.

Loving my new Lifebook

There is a time in a modern girl’s life where she purchases something oh-so-big, using her hard-earned, sweat and tears-shedding cash, thus making her fully and truly grown up and independent.

For me, that is when I bought my own laptop. And yesterday, I finally did. You see, I’m one of those geeks-in-disguise who loves electronic gadgets more than she loves shoes or clothes. I even dreamt about owning a laptop, several times, that when I woke up the first thought was, “Oh I wanna use my new laptop!” and got disappointed when realizing there was none.

So, after much research and consideration (cutting out notebook ads from newspaper and deviously browsing the internet at work which resulted in me hurting my fingers from too much alt-tabbing), my decision resided on the White Lifebook Fujitsu A3110. It is just like what my beau called it; A perfect notebook – excellent specs, affordable price, savvy looks for the savvy me – milky white and wide 15,4″ screen with bold accents that suit my personality.

As usual, when making a big decision, I always leave it up to my designer. It didn’t matter if I’d trawled the computer shops all over Harco Mangga Dua, because if I wasn’t meant to have it, then I wasn’t meant to have it. But after almost giving up on hope, we finally found it, and the reason why most shops didn’t have it was because it was just in, and so new it was that the shops hadn’t them on display yet.

While it was being unwrapped, I felt a surge of excitement washing me over. Of course my savings would be a few digits minus, but all the hard work I’d done for the past one year was worth the purchase, even though it means swallowing up the emotional ups and downs at work and coming home feeling ten times more pissed off than usual.

The purchase of this laptop signals the beginning of my time preparing to take off. This stylish little tool is all I need to put my ideas to reality.

And so the definition of working hard has not yet being done, in fact it has only just begun.

Connected

His family was having a reunion back home so he planned to leave early that day. He came by to the packaging development department and I bade farewell, my back facing everyone who was staring with obvious curiosity.

I wanted so much to touch him and hug him and kiss him goodbye – I knew he would come back but every time we had to part it killed my heart because I felt like my other half was being taken away from me.

I saw him walked away, out of the corridor to the Grey area and out to the elevator which would take him to the first floor.

I went back to my desk. Stared on the computer monitor for quite a while. Then I bolted right out to the elevator, hoping that he was still there.

It was the quickest moment of my life where I totally ignored what the others were thinking – call me hopeless romantic, or deeply and stupidly in love, I didn’t give a damn.

It wasn’t the kind of goodbye I wanted. It wasn’t final, and knowing that he’d be away from me for four days, I couldn’t leave it at that.

I knew he’d probably be downstairs already but I didn’t care. I was hoping that the elevator would take ages – as usual – to get to the third floor so that he would still be waiting there.

And he was. He said, “I had a feeling that you’d come out and see me so I didn’t get on the elevator. It’s been here for ages but I was waiting for you to come out.”

I got on the elevator with him, in which there was nobody in it except us. We hugged. We kissed. We bade our goodbye.

The doors slid open. We let go of each others’ hands.

Exhaling deeply.

Staring to each others’ eyes.

Not wanting to go and not wanting to let go.

I felt my other half was gone. And that was how it always is every time we part.