without truth, what else is there?

weary.

weary because human interactions are so complicated, so manipulative, so shallow.

weary because people insist on tainting their characters with lies.

it is so easy to distrust, to face each and every with skepticism in my eyes, shoulders squared cold and hard for the onslaught of more deceit. yet i chose the difficult path to walk, i chose to have faith, to believe in sincerity and the goodness in people, naive as that may seem, difficult as it may be. when i listen, i believe. when i hear, i trust. but when i least expect it, in the most innocent of circumstances, i am once again deluded. still, i insist on believing, even when this convoluted life doesn't permit so. i do not have any choice, it is the only way to live.

the phone rang at 8.45pm. it was the mother of little princess' classmate. did i know that my daughter was stuffed in an overloaded car along with 10 other people to their dinner venue just a few minutes ago? nooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were just stopped by the police? the jaw dropped to the floor. noooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were roaming the mall in the afternoon, instead of hanging out at the house as they should be? noooooo, i didn't know that either. she went on to moan and wail about how late it was, how irresponsible the chaperon was, how unsafe our children were. she wanted me to reprimand the guardian. she wanted me to call her and let her know that everything must wind up by 9.45. she wanted a lot of things, all of which she didn't want to dirty her own hands doing. instead, she wanted me to do the running for her. i listened. i acknowledged. i counselled. but i can't call someone up and berate her just because someone else wanted me to.

when little princess was back, i confirmed the facts with her. did she sit in a car with 10 other people? yes. were they stopped by the police? no. did they roam the mall in the afternoon? no. something so simple, something so innocent, children hanging out at each other's place. why did one felt the need to turn it into something ugly, i cannot grasp. bringing up a child is hard enough, tying apron strings, loosening apron strings, dealing with empty nests. other mothers should commiserate, not complicate. knowing in her heart that the truth will be easily confirmed, she insisted on lying to get her way. lies that are so shallow and unskillful, what is the purpose? what goes on in her mind, i don't think i will be able to understand.

my daughter is 11, by the way. it is going to be a very long hair-wrenching ride for me all the way to her adulthood.

any other name

was just idling around, catching a glimpse of the headlines on the stack of newspaper at the local petrol station as the man was guzzling black gold into his car. i was waiting for the cashier to close the bill when a man in uniform wandered past. good morning, he greeted in a cantonese dialect. the language was so familiar. he is dark-skinned, is he chinese? it is so hard to tell nowadays when the cantonese dialect is so prevalent. i peered at him. whatever. good morning, i returned enthusiastically.

he hung around, sorting the stack of newspapers. not going out on a weekend? huh? hello, get back to your sorting, noyb (none of your business). of course, that came out as putting petrol, aren't i?. that was already sarcastic mode in check. you never know who will whip out a machette behind their back nowadays and chop you to pieces for simply saying the wrong words. i was indirectly telling him to get off my case. i don't think he got it. do you stay around here? fair enough question still, i guess, asking if someone lives around the vicinity of the petrol station they are patronising. uh huh. eventhough i do not. ha! that's one for me, blockhead. small insignificant victory, but still that guy was beginning to get on my nerves.

so, what's your name? waitaminit, how is that related to filling petrol again? quick, brain! give me a comeback! i'm not about to give my name to this stalker! my brain was a blank. uh huh. how lame was that? when in doubt, always fake ignorance. see? i don't understand what you are trying to ask me. i was then rescued by the bell, or in this case, the cashier. bill done. sign and ready to leave. that man was still lingering around. i turned to leave. the man's car was no longer parked at pump no. 5. he drove up beside me. hey melissa! thanks a lot, hubby of mine. mr. weirdo now has my name. next time i go to that petrol station, i better go incognito with big sunglasses, cap and all.

by the way, in case you are wondering, that's not my real name. why do you want to know my name,? are you a stalker or something?!

an act of destruction

that little twerp punched me in the nose. so, ok, it wasn't a full blown punch like pomp, arrrrgggghhhh, falling to the floor, bleeding nose and stuff, but he still raised his hand, like the un-gentleman that he is, and punched me on the nose. all because of a little humour and a gibe, which we trade on ends everyday anyway. the last time someone punched me on the nose was when i was 11. if my parents knew then that i came home with bloody nose, i don't think they would have been that comfortable with sending me away for education. ignorance is indeed bliss. hmmm, maybe that is why i have such a stubby nose. will suing for compensation 28 years later be too late, you think?

anyway, back to the story. he is technically an adult, though not quite in the mental department perhaps. a young adult. perhaps that was his version of humour. still, someone has to teach him that it is wrong to raise his hands in violence. i blame his parents more, his grandparents even, for not educating him in what is right and what is wrong, for turning the other eye. if i was sure i will not be thrashed myself, i would have hunted for my nearest cane and whipped that young man, if only to tell him that it is not acceptable to punch your aunty. but violence begets violence, and that is not another thing i wanted to teach him. ahem *coward*. it was all i could do to hold my temper, and hands itching to cane that little twerp, in check.

what is perhaps more frustrating is the attitude of those around him. their ears only ever perk up when he does something right, and falls deaf for some strange reason when he misbehaves. scientists around the world would have given a hand and a leg to understand the selective listening aptitude of certain species in our world. for that matter, so would i, but that is more in relation to my strangely selective listening partner in life. i am digressing.

that is the problem of parents, and grandparents the world over. that is the problem with modern parenting. i don't know when, i don't know why and i most certainly don't know how parents came to feel that they owe so much to their children. when a plate of food is laid on the table, parents encourage their children to be the first to taste the spoils, to grab at the food and pick it over even before the elderly lay their eyes on it. didn't moral education taught us that we should respect the grandparents, the aged? actually, i was never taught so either. maybe that is where the crack started. how do you teach something that you have never been taught? but teach we still do, despite being a hypocrite. because it is the right thing to impart. we climb over ourselves to protect our children, to give them the best, to be there for them. we didn't spare a moment to teach them to respect us, to care for us in return, to be a responsible and giving adult, to honour the patriarch and matriarch of the family. when we are old and grey, when we are weak, who are we to blame when they prioritise their children over us? when they give the best to their offsprings and leave the bishop nose, the chicken neck for us, the aged, the grandparents? what can we say when they throw us out of the house, just so little junior can have a room for himself?

it is not altruistic of parent to place their children as first priority. it is not an act of love. it is an act of destruction.

he ain't heavy, he's my bro

my bro marked his presence in my room by giving me the biggest fright of the day. he has never heard of the art of making his presence heard before his voice booms into an empty quiet room. like noisy stamping footsteps for example, to prevent the sudden heart failure and incidental death of your sibling, you understand.

been looking for you since morning. where have i been?? my butt has been glued to this chair since the cock crowed. he threw a bunch of papers down on my table. i can give you these since they are no longer in conflict of interest. technical data on u.s. trade results, figures obtainable anywhere on the internet, if you care to look for it, that is. conflict of interest? my bro doesn't work in the central bank, american embassy and anything remotely connected to the monetary industry. what conflict of interest? you working secretly in the central bank? apparently, conflict of interest to his own personal judgement. i can't even figure that one out. my bro is one tough cookie to understand. he lets off a string of technical data on u.s. trade results. you see...this is not in line with this....and look at this...... sigh, if i tell him i trade in currencies on my whim, on my mood of the moment, i think he will grasp at his heart and collapse. the sheer absurdity that is his sister.

my friend

i had my head down, deeply engrossed in something, the actual details of which i cannot remember. suddenly, a shadow moved infront of me and i looked up. there she was, standing right before my very eyes! i couldn't believe what i was seeing, something that i could only dare dream in my wildest imagination. is there really a god in heaven?! i couldn't stop the tears from pouring, eventhough i am not usually one for emotional outbursts, but the very sight of her, there, talking and walking, brought such an emotional high that i could never imagine. i felt all my sadness, all the weights in my heart melt away. for the past few years, i have never thought i will ever see this day, but my dreams, my desire, my wish, has finally come true.

all that was left of her left hand was a stump, and she has grown slightly heavier. did they amputate her? why? when? it didn't really matter, as long as she was standing right there, right then. i rushed forward to hug her, and to hold her tight incase she slipped from my fingers again. we were laughing, crying, talking all at the same time, trying to make up for lost time. at the corner of her eyes, she say her friends drove past the porch. weakly, she called for their names. exhilirated as she was to share the immense joy with them, i rushed forward to get their attention. i told them she was awake, she was there. they tumbled in with unbridled joy and excitement. it was something that we have all been wishing for in our hearts.

amidst all the happiness, a realisation suddenly dawned on me. this cannot be right. she has been in bed for the last few years. if she wakes up suddenly, she will not be able to move around as she pleases; muscle atrophy has set in many long years ago. the moment that the nagging cognizance gnawed deep inside me, i felt myself slowly dragged into consciousness.

NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...........!!!!!!!!! it was like being dragged to certain death by freddy kruger. i can't face it. that all the happiness was merely a dream, that seeing her talking and walking right before my very eyes was just a figment of my unconscious mind. i can't face the fact that it is not real, that she did not hug me, talk to me, love me again. i have never known such bitter disappointment. now i do. i wish, if just to spare me a little more pain, that i will never have such dreams again.

friendships for life

sometimes i envy her. my daughter. not for her youth, not for her innocence, not for her carefreeness, nor for the unrestrained future that lies in wait for her. but for her one special friend, ray. she has known ray since the very first day of school and they have slowly grown closer over the four years together, spending every hour in school with each other. it is a strange combination, the two of them. one much shorter, the other average. one slightly tubbier, the other average. one more aggressive, and whilst the other is not exactly meek at home, follows along without a whine or a whimper. where one is lacking in particular traits, the other will excel as if to make up for her vulnerability, pretty much like the pieces of a puzzle. good friends, and good marriages also, are like that.

sadly, ray has left the school and the two best friends have parted ways, the opportunities to meet up rare and few in between. yet their friendship persists. she is still her bffl; best friends for life. she will take every opportunity that she can get to meet up; come public holidays or days before even, the phone will sure to ring with ray asking if she will like to come over. such loyalty, such commitment, such love. sometimes my heart sinks when i think of the day when such strong tie will waver, when the friendship will fade. i hope that this never will. we all need a best friend like that in our life, a friend to hold our hand through the long walk of life.

i never had such a friend. that perhaps is my greatest regret. not that making friends was difficult, i had plenty, testament to all the changing of schools i did when i was young. but it was because of that reason also that friendship never lasted. each time a friendship was beginning to deepen, each time i have found a bff, it was time to move on to new grounds again and start anew. true, best friends would have kept in contact but it was an age when internet and e-mail hadn't been invented and communication wasn't as easy. mails travelled at the pace of snails and eventhough each separation was initally followed by a frenzied exchange of letters, it was soon discarded and neglected in favour of faster gratifications in a teenager's life.

it was so until i met her. we were two new students in a school of old friends who hung tightly around in cliques. we had no one else but each other and friendship naturally progressed. we spend many hours together, in school and at home, trying to figure out homeworks that were alien to us as new students interjecting into totally different syllabus. yet, i never saw her as my best friend. we were too different, or were we too similar? we could never understand what the other was thinking, and we never saw eye to eye. perhaps that was a blessing for we never fell for the same type of guys, each secretly wondering what the heck the other see in the apple of their eyes. but friends we stayed for the longest time. through high school. through university. through great distance and wide oceans. through marriage and motherhood. through awful divorce and growing children. sometimes, the friendship wavered and paled in the shadows of the intensity of life, but still we were there in each other's umbrage. she was the closest i had to a best friend. fate sometimes play the cruelest joke on people. perhaps it was never in my destiny to have a close friend so she had to be taken away from me. i failed to see, until it was too late, that she had indeed been a best friend to me. no one can turn back the hands of the clock. no one can give me another minute with her. eventhough sometimes i don't have the courage nor the strength to see her, she is always in my heart.

my heart warmths in witness to the love that is shared between ray and little princess. i hope that she will know to appreciate the beauty that she has within the grasp of her hand.