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Expiring Domain

Hey you who still cares about what is going on in here (yes, that’s YOU, Jazzy … maybe … if you’re still here, that is). The domain for this blog, pugly[dot]me, will be expiring in four days on the 30th of September 2018 and I have decided not to renew it because, hey, what’s the point when I only post updates once in a blue moon. So come 1st of October 2018, this blog will be operating under its original domain at pugly[dot]tumblr[dot]com. Please update your bookmarks accordingly. I am planning to write a long post soon explaining my disappearance for almost a year (so much has happened!) so please bear with me while I muster the courage (and strength) to write again.

Much love xx;

Pugs

  • 3 months ago
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#MeToo

Goodness, has it really been a month since I last posted in here? 

I’ve been so caught up with putting things together for the #SaveKeluargaIskandar campaign that I haven’t had time to even blink. My days and nights were consumed with getting the website ready, putting the finishing touches on the final plan, managing the social media channels, etc., etc., that time just whizzed past me and before I know it, I’m a hundred years old.

Well, at least that’s how I feel these days. And probably look, too. I am exhausted beyond belief. I can’t wait for this campaign to be over so that I can get at least some of my life back.

Anyway, I digress.

Today I want to talk about the #MeToo hashtag that has been making the rounds lately, thanks to that infamous Hollywood pig who has recently fallen from Tinseltown’s grace, Harvey Weinstein. 

Sexual misconduct, particularly towards the fairer sex, has been around for as long as mankind has been walking on earth. Almost all women go through it at some point in their lives.

I have never been sexually assaulted before (touch wood) but I have been inappropriately touched in the past. The first incident happened when I was just eleven years old. There was this man who worked at the grocery store behind my house; I never liked him as he always gave me the creeps. One day, I wanted to buy some Maggi Mee but couldn’t find any. He was the only one around, so reluctantly, I had to ask for his help. He brought me to the back shelves and fetched a packet for me, but when I wanted to take it from him, he kept pulling it out of my reach like he wanted something from me first before he gave it to me. Before I knew it, he grabbed my crotch. I was stunned. I just stood there, frozen with fear. He was much bigger and taller than me. I didn’t really understand what was happening, what I knew was that I was really scared that he might do more next, so I quickly grabbed the packet of instant noodles from his hands and dashed out to pay for it.

Fortunately, I was having my period at that time, so there was a thick layer of sanitary pad covering my lady bits, but I vowed never to go to that shop alone again from then on. I was angry – at him for daring to touch me without my consent, at myself for letting it happen – but at the same time I was also ashamed about it, so much so that I didn’t tell anyone about it, not a soul, not even my parents. 

A few weeks later, a friend who lived in our neighbourhood told me that the same man had grabbed her cousin’s breast in the shop, which led to him being sacked when the girl told her parents about it.

Looking back, I wish I had done the same. I wish I had told my parents about the incident, and maybe another girl wouldn’t have to go through the same thing I did. I wish I was braver, and less self-conscious about it. But hey, I was just a kid. I didn’t know better. 

The second incident happened at a Bon Jovi concert in Stadium Merdeka. I was doing my first year in MSMKL, Cheras. I was enjoying myself when I felt a pair of hands grabbing my waist from behind. The hands then moved to my shoulders before hugging me. I thought it was one of my male friends so I just let him be. It wasn’t until I caught a friend’s eye who was standing next to me – she had this horrified look on her face as she looked at the guy behind me – that I realised what was happening. I was too scared to turn around, so I just yanked his hands off me. He whispered sorry in my ear before leaving me alone. I never saw his face. 

The third incident happened in a KTM Komuter. I think I blogged about this before. The train was packed when I got in so I had to stand. A man stood close behind me and rubbed himself against my back, so I stood on his toes with my heels, making sure to dig in real good. He yelled and threw curses at me as he limped away and got off the train. I hope I managed to crush his toes, or at least make them bleed.

I saw in Twitter that some men, and even women, blame Weinstein’s victims for not speaking up about it sooner, or lodging a complaint against him. But in reality, it’s really not as simple as that. Weinstein was one of the most powerful figures in Hollywood, and most of the time, where power is involved, the situation gets a whole lot more complicated and the stakes get higher for the victims. 

To put it simply, when such things happen, more often than not, the ones who suffer the most are the victims, especially in cases of sexual assault. Even if they manage to put the perpetrators behind bars, they are the ones who have to live with the fear, the trauma and the social stigma for the rest of their lives. The experience stays with them long after the deed is done. 

I guess we need to go back to basics if we want a better world for our children. I believe the solution to most problems in this world starts at home. Educate our children to treat everyone with respect, as sexual abuse can happen to and be done by both genders. If we don’t have anything valuable to give to the world, at least leave better children behind. As one Dipesh Tank puts it succinctly in Humans of Bombay:

“ … All men everywhere are looked at in a certain light, because of the few hundreds who create the chaos — I wanted to try and restore that balance. I have tremendous respect for all women, and it started at home — my mother taught me well… I didn’t respect anyone as much as her. And maybe that’s the message we should send out — raise better boys at home, and the world will know fewer disrespectful men.”

    • #storyofmylife
    • #metoo
  • 1 year ago
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Police: Youths started fire after being insulted by tahfiz students - Nation | The Star Online

I only have this to say:

It’s all on us. ALL of us.

Enough with the blame game already. It’s useless to point fingers at others at this point in time. Really, the truth is, we as a nation have failed our children. The victims, the perpetrators, and also all those children who have been physically abused, sexually abused and murdered almost every single day. 

We have failed them. Every single one of them.

We have failed to protect them, we have failed to properly educate them, we have failed to provide a safe environment for them to grow up in.

This is a mistake that we should learn from and improve on, not an opportunity to bash anyone. What we should do instead of pinning the blame on somebody, is to find a solution on how to make this a safer, better Malaysia for our children. 

Maki hamun pun tak guna, dok pung pang pung pang depan keyboard dekat kedai kopi bukan dapat selesai apa pun. Benda dah jadi. The main question is, what are we going to do about it to ensure that it never happens again or, at the very least, minimise the possibility of it happening again?

These days, a village is no longer enough. These days, it takes a nation to raise a child.

    • #inthenews
    • #inmyhead
    • #observations
  • 1 year ago
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Sambal Kentaki Ketuk

My mom is practically the Mother of Improvisation, especially when it comes to food. She doesn’t really like eating the same thing twice, so for the sake of variety, whenever we buy KFC, she would turn the leftover chicken into what I would refer to as Sambal Kentaki Ketuk (Pounded Kentucky Sambal). I guess you can also use any other variety of fried chicken, but I feel that somehow it just doesn’t taste as good. I posted this video on my FB and it became an instant hit with my friends, with some of them even trying the recipe right after watching it. 

In my opinion, the simplest dish is often the most divine. Tastes good with bread, too!

Sambal Kentaki Ketuk

Ingredients:

  1. Leftover KFC chicken
  2. Fresh tamarind juice (approximately 1 tablespoon of tamarind paste or 4 to 5 pits of fresh tamarind pulp mixed with half a cup of water)
  3. Dried chillies blended with onions, garlic and belacan (shrimp paste)

Steps:

  1. Shred the chicken into smaller pieces (skin, crust and all)
  2. Pound the shredded chicken (not too much, just to break the meat a little)
  3. Heat some oil in a wok or a big pan
  4. Fry 3 to 4 ladlefuls of the chilli mixture until the mixture somewhat breaks in the oil and turns slightly darker
  5. Add salt to taste
  6. Add fresh tamarind juice to the mixture 
  7. Add in the chicken and mix until even 
  8. Serve and enjoy!
    • #sharingiscaring
    • #hajjahjenaporiginalrecipe
  • 1 year ago
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August Ambitions

August is here once again (already?!). This is the month where I become a year older, but not necessarily the wiser.

In conjunction with the arrival of my birthday month, I resolve to start doing all of the following:

1) Put aside RM200 each month
2) Take better care of myself
3) Be more mindful of what I spend my money on
4) Be more mindful of what I put into my mouth
5) Exercise more (HA!)
6) Be more ZEN

The first one’s the easiest. I have already stashed away my first RM200 in my Tabung Haji account. The second one is doable. The third means I have to start jotting down every single cent spent, which is kinda hard. The fourth and the fifth, well, I just need to look at my rapidly expanding waistline and my increasingly prominent backside for motivation. 

The sixth … well, well, well. The sixth is going to be the toughest. I am extremely impatient by nature, so this is going to be quite a feat. Not everybody can do zen. It’s not like I haven’t tried before. I have, and I failed miserably. 

Well, you know what they say about people getting mellow with age. Let’s just hope that this time around, the age factor would help me achieve this.

image
    • #inmyhead
    • #storyofmylife
  • 1 year ago
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