Acceptance.

Acceptance usually refers to cases where a person experiences a situation or condition (often a negative or uncomfortable situation) without attempting to change it, protest, or exit.



Fianlly had the mood to sit down and blog about this. For those of you who don't know the latest frustrating issue on my mind now...

*drumrolls...*

I've just lost my phone on Monday.



Well, to be more precise, it was stolen, actually pickpocketed.

PS: Sorry guyz and gals, I hate to elaborate on the final few moments of my relationship with my phone...therefore I shall only do so briefly.

Alright here's how it happened (briefly). I was getting off the train from Angkasapuri when I noticed someone rubbing against my side and squeezing something out of my pants pocket. When I squeezed my way out of the can of sardines, I realised that my right pocket was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, some Malay dude caught my attention, as he seemed to be quickly stuffing something into his pocket. I ran over and yelled at him and asked him why he took my phone. He paniced, ran back into the train just in time, and the door shut before I could follow him in. *SLAM* Byebye. The end.

It took me a little while before I realised what had happened. Then it struck me, I shall never see my phone again. I felt pretty helpless. There was nothing I could do. When the door shut my phone's fate was sealed and I pretty much knew that that was it...but sitting down and crying would make me an even sorer loser. Thus I did the only thing I thought could possibly give me a glimpse of hope, or rather just a futile way consoling myself.

I ran up stairs and found the police "pondok". In there I found 4 police officers on duty. I explained my situation to them in Malay and asked if there was any possible way to trace down my phone. They told me there was nothing they could do there as anything that happened in/on/in the vicinity of the trains was none of their business. Truth was they didn't seem even remotely interested in helping me. Advising me to make a police report at Brickfields Police Station (because there was no one there who could take my report, yea right~), all four of them strut out of the "pondok" and talking about which mamak stall to go to.

Dissatisfied, I hoped on a cab and found myself at Brickfields Police station. A scary place, since there were so many stories of people being tortured and getting killed in its lockup room, and not to mention the recent water cannon assault on Hindraf riots just outside the building. I gathered up my guts and walked in. Asking around was a great way to know where to make a police report. I soon found myself at a receptionists desk being interrogated by a Malay (which they all are) female officer. One of the first questions she asked me was this :"Orang apa yang mencuri fon kamu?" Me: "Orang Melayu." Her face instantly changed and gave me the "I-dont-want-to-help-you face" Its a look that I will remember. After getting as little information out of me as she could, she printed an official police report with my name, ic, address, stuff on it. Then suddenly it dawned on me. I was actually filed my first official police report~ I would have been prouder if not for the sad circumstances which lead me to do so.

Later on, I got my statement done/retold to another police officer. Which keyed in the necessary first hand information given by the victim required for their detectives to begin the case. (If they choose to begin at all.)

That sums up my visit to the Brickfields Police Station. I walked away frustrated by feeling helpless at being helpless. There was nothing left to do now but sit and bitch about it.

There goes the facts of the case~