i was just struck by how sweet she is. that eyes. that face. she was just so pure.

as far as i can remember, i don't think i've ever been to an orphanage, especially one with disabled children. the very idea of it scares me. new place. new environment. new situation. i feel like someone who has some degree of cenophobia, but not merely new things. the very idea of seeing kids who are helplessly lying around, unable to change their lives, unable to do anything for themselves pulls me into greater depths of gloom. i am not one to bounce back easily from depressive mood swings and so i rather send my well-wishes through a third party or through our boys in the snail mail service all this while.

however, i can't let my fear and apprehension hold me back forever, or more importantly, i can't let my fear and apprehension hold me back on educating my kids. they need to see, they need to witness with their very own eyes other children who are less fortunate and they need to cultivate their generosity and emphaty. no lesson is greater than living it.

i've put off visiting the place for more than half a year, but it was something that i wanted to do this year. yesterday morning, we gathered all the toys that they no longer played with, the books that they no longer read and with some money that they have saved from their allowance, we finally visited the orphanage.

before i went, i was afraid my cynicism will spoil everything. my hardness, my aloofness, my apathy. will i be very unhappy afterwards? will i cry? will i know how to interact with them? do i have to pretend to be nice? if you've ever seen the sweet, soft-spoken, patient, gentle and kind type, you'll know that i'm not it. but i've always let things run in circles in my mind for too long and thought about things too much. i decided to just go with the flow this time. que sera sera.

when i walked into the office, my cynicism in full gear as usual, a little girl on the floor, flipping through her magazine, waved at me. she had on a very sweet smile. it was like a scene from a typical donor's account. having read so many people's similar story, i was like living in a play-act. scene one, take one. she waved at me again when i was talking to the person-in-charge. i left the others and went to talk to her for a little while. i just couldn't resist her smile. at first i didnt know whether to converse in english or chinese, but i realise it didn't really matter. i liked talking to her, eventhough she has no idea what i was saying and i have no idea what she was saying. she said something, which i interpreted to be asking my name. i pointed to myself and said my name and i asked her hers. i heard her repeating the last syllable of my name softly. she couldn't quite tell me hers. she is 16 but is almost the size of a 12 year old. i have no idea how old her IQ is. her back bents forward as she sits on the floor because she has some back bone deformity. i talked to her a little more, and flipped the magazine with her. the man told me that they call her 'girl-girl' and explained to me patiently about her condition and the progress that they have had with her. i believe.

i looked up and saw my mother standing in the corner, lost and waiting. i stood up to leave and bid 'girl-girl' farewell. she waved back in return. i don't really want to leave. i want to spend a little bit more time with the girl that stole my heart with her smile. i can't remember the last time i've seen another smile so pure, with no hidden agenda or complications. i hope i will be back.

goodbye 2011. 2012, can you hide in the corner and wait for a little while? i'm not quite ready to greet you yet.

2011 saw my eyesight taking a sudden turn for the worse. my hubby has jested that hyperopia will hit me when i turn 40. i was still shaking my head with laughter when i suddenly find myself holding my reading material 2 inches further. exactly at 40. it's like the warranty period on my eyes just ran out. sorry madam, you have hit 40, time for your eyes to start breaking down. and sorry, it's not covered in the warranty. you didn't realise that it was not under lifetime warranty? then you should have read the fine print, dummy. the worse part is, my myopia isn't too hot either. i guess they forgot to tell me that. i can't see near and i can't see far. so, stand in between when i talk to you, ok? maaaaaaybe it's reading late into the night on the ipad. or the long hours in front of the computer screen. or the television to unwind. i seem to be moving from one lighted device to another. still, it's a lifestyle and it's not something that can change just because we want to.

2011 saw me saying goodbye over and over and over and over again. things are finally changing. life is impermanent, i get it, but i suck so terribly at change. outside i am cool, aloof, undisturbed but inside the little me is kicking, screaming and holding on to wall corners to stop from being dragged on to the next chapter. friends, relatives and even my nephew who i have watched growing up with my very eyes are all moving on. if i were to maintain a semblance of rationality, i will know that their one step away is one step closer to their future, and perhaps i should be glad for them. but not unless you drug the emotional 'little me' first.

2011 saw me breaking little traditions. i didn't bring her daughter for trick-or-treating this year as a result of circumstance. i see others physically moving away, but i myself am unconsciously taking one step further. did time soothe the wound or am i just hiding and pretending that it does not exist? i find myself needing an excuse to visit. did i need one then?my christmas tree is shorter this year. honey, i shrunk the tree. instead of the usual 3 parts, i only put up 2, and only because my daughter insisted on it. reflective of my mood for the holiday season perhaps. new year's eve will also be quiet and different this year. used to be warm with friends coming over and chatting through the night into the new year. this year, with all of them gone, i feel a little piece of my energy, my spirit, also gone with them. all i want to do is crawl into warm cozy bed and cover my head with the blanket. but i will not. i will find new traditions.

2011 saw me lost my son for several minutes and reminded me not to be lackadaisical about his presence. 2011 saw me holidaying with friends. it matters not where, when, how, why or what. it is always the who. i am one who craves human interaction. the sound of friends chatting, or simply being present, are soothing to my soul. 2011 saw a lot of frustration. life is more complicated because of one person. i am tip-toeing around her presence so as not to spark any fire or cause any turbulent waves. perhaps outside, in the dynamic world, but not at home where life should not be so tiring. but i don't like to dawdle on such and i turn the page in a hurry.

2011 saw a lot of people moving on. that perhaps is how i should sum up the year. the year of moving on.

the person who gave me this

also gave me this

strangely, i'm more excited about the second gift than i am about the first. the feel of the paper. the smooth lined surface. the black sophisticated cover. pure empty pages. a fresh start for the fresh year. thinking of it makes me tingle.

the electronic photo frame, i have absolutely no idea what to do with it. it's just another thing occupying space. to actually put photos in and hook it up 24/7 means electricity and good money wasted. the power companies must be rubbing their hands with glee when the smartass inventor came up with the idea. i have another one just like that lying in a box at home, collecting layers after layers of dust. it seemed like a brilliant idea at first, but after the first two days, you remember the photos that you loaded and don't need to be reminded of it 24 hours 7 days a week.

so, i guess it must be really hard shopping for someone with a weird sense of priorities like me. i think simple is always better.

it's the very first time in my life that i've ever watched a football match from start to finish, without falling into a comatose state within the first five minutes. you can hardly blame me, the right left right left running up and down the field is like a hypnotic pendulum. the brain just turns off at the slightest suggestion of it.

i caught my very first live football match a few weeks ago. technically, we didn't really watch it to the full 90 minutes; we decided to leave 10 minutes earlier to avoid the other 39,996 people that would soon thunder after us like a huge herd of hungry wild boars. unfortunately, another 996 or so people had the same brilliant idea. i don't know if you have ever tried huge gathering of adrenalin-charged people but 996 people feels exactly the same as 39,996 people, especially within your immediate surrounding. you still get the push, the shove, the smelly armpits (thank goodness it was winter!) and the hot sticky stale air. it was still a mad rush to the nearest underground station, and we were still squashed closer than a tin of sardines inside the train. the people of london, i must say, are definitely more gentlemanly. my derriere and other body parts came off unharmed and unmolested despite the crazy squeeze.

anyway, back to the game. i am not, and have never been a football fan. i basically tune off when people discuss the game. some ladies watch football for the tall handsome players. me, i can't even keep up with where the ball went, forget about anything else that is above their quick skilful legs (er, let's keep our thoughts clean). i know that many are crazy, mental even, about the game. i can't find the passion within me. that night, however, i couldn't keep my eyes off the 22 players for even one minute. the whole atmosphere, the shouting, the sound of chairs clapping shut simulataneously when the crowd stands up to catch the action when they were attempting to score a goal, the singing, the pure exhiliration oozing from the air highly charged with energy. i've forgotten the last time something was so new and exciting for me. i can't tell who from who but watching them pass the ball from one to another, head butting it away from the goal, i was in total awe. as it lurked later into the night and the temperature drops even more, pulling on all my winter gears, and more, couldn't keep the chill away. trembling in my seat, rubbing my gloved hands together to keep warm, the crowd chanting and singing, bright stadium light making everything seem surreal. it's definitely one for the memory chest.

it's that time of the year again. merry cheer, disillusionment, wariness and all that the season calls. time to fish out the cheque book and go through who is naughty or nice. not for well-behaving nieces and bratty nephews but wading through the humongous pile of letters that i have received and accumulated from charity organisations throughout the year.

life would be simpler if everybody was honest, if you get what you see. everybody knows right from wrong, yet they manage to exercise some kind of logic from practising what is correct, some kind of contorted delusion that they are virtuous. charity is such big money that all types of pests and scum hide themselves behind the apron, portraying themselves to be wondrous mother teresa's out to save the world. it's sad, it's pathetic that some will take money meant for others in greater need, and i wonder if there is any karma for them in the end, but that is just how the world turns.

some donation letters came in colourful glossy papers, pages after pages thick. the stamp and printing alone would have fed a few more mouths for the year. one purported to be contributing to third world countries; water and sanitation for cambodia, indonesia and.....malaysia. i have always thought that our government was doing that, albeit not the best job in the world, but i now learn that a well-known international organisation is canvassing for donations so that you and i can have better sanitation and water. no wonder everybody doesn't pay indah water. others do nothing more than visit international schools in the name or promoting education. what little they do is not strange, but to actually show it in the newsletter is a little strange. the least they could do was grab some sad looking children from the streets and take some pity-wrenching photos with them.

charitable organisations sprout like mushrooms, purportedly representing the blind, the disabled and the handicapped in malaysia. what have they done? where do the money go? everybody wants to be seen helping the needy, cream of the society heading the trustees of the board, datuks and datins acting as patrons of charities, lending a sense of credibility to its name. don't kid yourself that the rich do not cheat. each year you turn a little more cynical, a little more jaded with the things you learn, with the things you see. still, pages of the cheque books are torn, names scribbled and envelopes addressed. for the little that you can do, whether to assist the needy or simply appease your mind.