every weekday i have to wake up at 6.30 a.m. 6.45 the latest. weekends are the only time i have the luxury to sleep in and close my eyes to the knocking and calling of the world. i can turn up the air-cond, pull down the blinds and close my ears to everything except the rumblings of my stomach. that's why it's such an irony when my eyes automatically pop open at 6.09 a.m. last saturday and 5.25 a.m. on sunday. wild horses couldn't open my eyelids on weekdays but on weekends, the pair of smart-alecks, coupled with my uncooperative brain have a mind (pun intended :P) of their own.

i'm someone who needs her beauty sleep, or rather WAS that someone. perhaps it's old age, but i needed at least 10  hours sleep each night before my brain can function when i was younger. the words beauty sleep reminds me of a certain someone. someone who knew that about me much more than others did and constantly reminded me that i should get more beauty sleep. someone who cut out comic strips from the newspapers every week and sent them to me by post just to cheer up my days. someone who thought of me and how i was doing every so often. perhaps more than my dad. someone who always remembered my birthday and there was always a card in the mail waiting for me. someone that i wished i had treasured more. someone that i wished i had visited more. someone i should have said my last goodbye to. eventhough he couldn't see, even if he will never know, i should have flew that 13 hours to accompany him on his last journey. if not for him, then at least for myself.

the young is always carefree and aloof, untouched by the cruel cold hard grasp of reality. if i had known then what i know now. if i was less self-centered then and thought a little more of others. if i had appreciated his gestures then like i do now. now that he is not here anymore. you realise as you grow older that there aren't that many people in the world who really gives a damn. many wear it at the corner of their mouths, oh, i'm so sorry for you, how are you doing?, you can always talk to me......but few really mean it. it's just the etiquette of life. the action of few really mirrors the love in their heart. why must being young be so callous?

i don't have his letters or the comic strip clippings anymore. in my mind, i can still imagine them. i can't remember if it touched my heart then and kept me warm during the winter. i would like to think that it did.

how is it alright for the world to become a cold empty place, echoing with the sound of nothing but silence? no more the sound of laughters, of little feet running so busily, of adults chatting about anything under the sun, of biscuits crunching and of soft drink cans opening. yes, nostalgia is indeed hitting me full blast, or perhaps old age reminiscence?

when i was little, memories of my chinese new year was just that. adults gathering into different social groups chatting about whatever holds their fancy. delicious arrays of sweets, cookies and tit-bits on the table that seem to be more alluring than the main buffet table. mothers not bothering if the children are feasting on the food or the cookies because they have too much on their hands. red packets that frankly we never cared too much about because we never get to see the daylight of the cold hard cash anyway. groups of visitors coming and leaving. my favourite part was dipping my hands into the cooler box filled with ice-cubes, cold water and soft drinks. many other people of my age share similar memories. of the good old times.

it doesn't really seem that long ago, but life has certainly changed so much. now, nobody is around for the chinese new year. say the word and people actually shiver at the idea of the money to fork out for the red packets, or the stress of holding such a gathering and the noise and crowd. such grumpiness for the start of a new lunar year. or is it just the people around me?

it should be the time for catching up on a whole year of someone else's life, the time to let down your hair and forget about work for a little while, to see how big your little nieces and nephews have grown or so-and-so's daughter. remember? the one that you were so close with in college donkey years ago but can't even spend one minute to catch up with in the past few years? if not during the new year holidays, then when? it's the time to peel open some kuaci, to sit around with your nice clothes on and do nothing more than play cards, eat sweets or munch on some mandarin oranges. these days, people fall over themselves in a rush to the line at their travel agents for the fastest flight out of here, be it to japan, australia or even timbuktu. then again, to each his own, i always say. after 364 days of hard work, some may just want to get away from it all. who am i to say?

visiting friends and relatives seem to be a distant memory of the past. our generation seems to prefer 'escaping' from the new year. so, will our children, the generation thereafter forget the customs and the meaning of a traditional new year ?

a new year passed is another 365 days gone. how did we mark it?

looking back, this blog has evolved over the years. from starting out as a curious foray into the mysterious world of blogosphere in 2006 to writing for my readers in 2007, then metamorphosed into  an outlet for my emotions in 2008, and continued simply for the love of writing and the elegance of the written language. now, from 2011 onwards, my blog is for writing so that i will remember my past.

i am making an effort to pen down thoughts and happenings as a blanket of emptiness creep stealthily to cover my past. i am losing memories as fast as i am making new ones. is that normal? to forget both the not so distant past, and also the distant past. i know that to forget the former and not the latter whispers of the symptom of early dementia, but to forget both? is just a sign of brain degeneration? i so badly wanted to ask the doctor that was sitting before me last weekend, but as he was neither looking into my file nor discussing my health, i held back. my memory loss is becoming worse, i acquiesce. there isn't much i remember, except memories that are recounted often over the years. my mother has a better memory than me, and that is speaking volumes since her recollection isn't that hot either. rather than indulge the hypochondriac in me, i believe that i can't remember almost everything because i am tired most times and have a list of to-do's and to-remember that is longer than me from head to toe. so many different things to bear in mind, all happening at different times, different places and different people. even obama has an assistant, several at that.

as i was in the car this morning, it hits me like a tidal wave. something that i have forgotten. a friend that i seldom see was to come to malaysia over the christmas holiday. she wanted to meet up, and we agreed on the date. no...... contrary to what you are thinking, i didn't forget the meeting. i would have written it down on my calendar so there was little chance of that happening. instead, my mother wanted to go to thailand over the christmas break, so i had to break the meeting. i told her i will inform her again if i were to make it. in a twisted turn of events, thailand reported bomb scares so the folks were wondering to go or not to go. perhaps it was this ding dong back and forth. to go. not to go. to go. not to go that made my brain go into overdrive. when they finally decided not to go, i forgot to inform my friend and re-book another day for meeting up. the whole thing totally slipped my mind! only now 2 weeks later, the whole thing suddenly pops into my head from nowhere. and i spent christmas in the most unimpressive, boring and quiet sort of way. it would have been so nice to have met up with her. i can just kick myself in my head with the thickest and heaviest of boots. i didn't even get a little twitch of memory over christmas weekend. it blows my mind how i can totally erase it from my memory then. 

sigh. another page of the life in this cheese-holed brain.

i tried to take today morning off. 4 hours. just 4 freaking hours but my hand-phone have been ringing non-stop, and with each ring bringing me nothing but more frowns. i don't remember exactly when it started but i have this deep-seated desire boiling inside of me to hire a professional killer and 'erase' my handphone's existence from the face of the earth. i remember the days when nobody carried hand-phone and i said things like, 'i seldom switch it on'. ha! now i NEVER switch it off! the last time i chose not to bring it around with me, i was reprimanded by the man who gave birth to me and called 'irresponsible'. sigh. we even use the handphone to call someone who is inside the room, behind closed doors, just a couple of feet away. such is the ludicrious way our lives have become. we are the modern slaves, not of our companies and its relentless working hours, but of our so-technologically advanced, so-sleek and efficient mobile phone. who cares if it's iphone 4s or nokia n-whatever, it's still basically a ball and chain.

back to slacking off. it has been so long, too long, since the last time i slack off work. it's too easy to just go to wherever i work and spend the whole day just sitting behind the desk. work is endless. i don't need to see anybody, i don't need to talk to anybody. life is simple. the only thing i have to do is put out fires and tackle the huge pile of endless paperwork infront of me.

i stole 2 hours yesterday. i was doing nothing much, but there was this sense of liberation, of loosening the shackles around me and lightening the load on my shoulders. not of peace of mind or tranquility because there was still that nagging feeling of guilt that i should still be sitting on that chair, behind that desk, rather than doing nothing productive. but it is because i was doing nothing productive that it felt so good. i can't creep back to my work table because it is not here. i can't do anything but nothing. if it had just finished raining, and i was sipping my coffee at my local coffee bean, then it would have been perfect.

this year's resolution. i need to find more time to slack off. i think i said that last year but i can probably count the number of times i did on one hand. heck, on half a hand even.

mourning

for so many months i've asked myself: will i cry? we've known for months that this day will come soon. i was inwardly appalled that everybody was so cool and detached about the whole thing. if the shoes were on my feet, i'll be crying endlessly until my eyes are puffy and red. i tear even at the very thought. how can everyone be so oblivious to the eternal farewell of someone who gave birth to you. it made me wonder what type of person she was and what type of life she lived that no one will mourn her death. if my life was so, was it a life wasted? if no one misses you, did you existed?

i can't judge them for i don't know their story. only my own. she was my grandmother and she brought me biscuits and sweets everytime she visited. and that was the extent of her closeness to me. she has never done any other grandmotherly stuff with me and she never cared anymore than that. or did my memory forget? perhaps that was how all grandmothers of that era was like. i remember her but i don't remember her. is that why her life was so bare - are our lives measured by the lives we touched? she is my grandmother and i mourn for her. i'm sadden that i'll never be able to look forward to her visits anymore, nor hear her voice. regardless of how aloof others are, despite our little interactions, i'm still left with a heavy heart. may you rest in peace =(

2012. first day of the year. braised pork knuckle in 13 herbs, marinated overnight. can't wait to see what the rest of the 364 days bring me :-P

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.