we learn new things everyday

it looked like one of those tactical maneuvers on american football. it felt like one of those tactical maneuvers on american football.

first time i had dinner with citizens from china. actually, i think, i believe, i have had dinner with people from the country of china before, but it was never this tactical. maybe it was the relaxed environment, maybe it was one glass too many. very the katak di bawah tempurung, me. i watched with dizziness whilst they twist and turn around the dinner table, barely seating five seconds in their seat before jumping up again, with their wine glass in hand, to toast another victim on the dinner table. it was like a dance, almost, without the music playing in the air. they didn't toast everybody with one wave of the glass, like we do here. they didn't toast each person in turn as they make their way slowly round the table, in one smooth visit. nope. they had to toast, return to their seat, make a pretence of seating down, then jump up again to make another toast. it was quite disconcerting watching them. and very, very amusing. after 5 minutes of this continual rain dance lookalike thing, i had to bite my lips from laughing out loud and rolling on the floor.

very warm, very friendly i hasten to add. i think positively of this culture, of personally welcoming each and every guest. actually, it was the other way round, but it's not our culture. we should have went round and did the same thing to everybody, but i think i was too shell-shocked into my seat, dumbly observing the strange 'dance' before it finally sunk in. but it was very amusing.

note: next dinner with chinese nationals this week, bring sports shoe so that you can run around the table faster.

collector of all things beautiful

stamps, stamps.

i want stamps.

why doesn't anybody uses stamps anymore??

biased opinion

everytime that i receive a phone call from her, crying her eyes out and trying so hard to be strong, i will say this; men are stupid idiots who think with their dicks. although i won't say that to her face.

don't you just hate it, part 4

don't you just hate it when.................

................you are taking a shower and your partner walks in to take a leak. then flushes without a second thought, turning instantaneously your warm relaxing shower into scalding hot water.

my journey

there is no manual on growing older. no books to read, no courses to attend. we all grope our way along in the dark, learning as we go along. things that we know now, that we didn't know then.

for one, i've learnt to love myself. the small beady eyes, the stubby nose, the short stature, well maybe not the genetically big butt, but the rest have become part and parcel of what i am, of who i am. and what's more, i've come to accept it and adore it. i even think i'm beautiful, eventhough in actual fact i am far from it. those that don't share the view, i couldn't care squat. with age comes confidence.

with age also comes the realisation that you know nothing. that you don't have enough inside of you. the more you read, the more you learn, the more you realise you know nothing. the world is so big, the people out there so many. how come i can't understand how to build a nuclear weapon, complicated scientific theorem and more no matter how hard i try? when i was young, i thought all things possible, with a pinch of concentration and an ounce of diligence. but i now realise that is not necessary true. there are many things i will like to invent, if simply to help me solve my present chaos. but i don't know the first thing about inventing. the virgin effort probably will be to look for a solution to this cheese-holed memory. perhaps it's just selective recollection? for which, there is no known cure. but with age, you realise you're emptier inside. the more you speak, the emptier it becomes.

with age comes a tiredness. or maybe a blurness of the sparkle that was once you. a disillusionment. a fatigue for trying the millionth times to change the world, if only for a bit. a lethargy for continuing your journey. maybe it's just a restless sleep the night before. i can't tell. but you stop trying. and you start accepting.

that's what i've gleaned thus far. on the lesson of aging. not of getting old, but getting older.

don't you just hate it, part 3

don't you just hate it when..............




.........you give your most charming smile at the handsome man looking at you and you're feeling good about yourself. when you check the mirror 3 hours later, you realise you have a piece of spinach stuck between your teeth.

reality vs imagination

sometimes the things that you perceive to be true, isn't. simply because you thought it would be like such, but in real life, after you have experienced it personally, reality is not in tandem with your imagination.

singapore's income tax department sucks as bad as malaysian's!

don't you just hate it, part 2

don't you just hate it when...................

...............you take a lick out of the ice-cream, and the whole scoop drops to the floor.

my rant of the day

i don't get it.

i seem to be starting most posts with a statement, a singular sentence to make my point, and then go back to deliberate on it. my writing stance, my style, my flow, all different from a couple of months ago. i guess an individual's writing style reflects the person's mood. so, what does this say about my present mood? i have absolutely no idea. my psychoanalysis has only arrived thus far.

anyway, this isn't what i don't get. i don't get women drivers. bitchy women drivers. not all women drivers are bitchy. some, like moi, are pretty, cute, considerate, nice...we can be here all day with the adjectives. those that don't consider they fall into the bitchy category, don't be offended. if you think you are, please submit yourself for some mind-altering surgery because you need serious help.

explanation: every morning, the main road (well, not so main, but main in the estate) around here is very jammed. bumper to bumper, moving but slow. usually, my destination involves cutting across this road to go to the opposite direction. without fail, there will always be cars that refuse, absolutely refuse, to leave a small gap so that others from the road perpendicular to it can cut across. even when the traffic is not flowing, and they have no where else to go but crash into the bumper of the cars in front. their devils' horns will pop out and they will pretend to look right, left, up, down but flatly refuse to acknowledge your presence, step on the gas pedal to...what? join the queue in front faster? to not leave a microscopic gap so that even small ants can't squeeze past? let's deny ants the right to cross the street!! it's not like we, the perpendicular drivers, are trying to beat their queue or steal their spot. we are just passing through. this is the 'if i can't go anywhere, you can't go anywhere either' mentality. let's get stuck in this shit together, and u can stare daggers into my face for another 5 more minutes to see whether i have any open pores or horns sticking out of my head.

i understand those who are in a hurry and refuse to let others pass when the road ahead is clear and the traffic is moving fast. but hello? why are you in hurry to kiss the butt of the other car? i can't stand to be away from the smelly carbon monoxide the othe car is emitting even for one millisecond! i love my carbon monoxide! breathe! breathe! what do you think is going through their head when i glare at them, or raise hands and legs in reprimanding gestures to them? ooo, i want to stay and watch this woman dancing breakdance in her car. i'm not going to let her through. what is there to lose? definitely not time, not goodwill, not petrol, not anything i can think of. will they die if they let me through? hah! wimps!! you let a driver through!! take away ten points! grrrrrr, i steam in frustration, purely from the fact that i can't possibly understand their motives, and therefore can't emphasise with their lack of cranial grey matter.

and without fail, you will find that most of these inconsiderate drivers are women. why? why why tell me why? are women less magnanimous? are women more vengeful? i, for one, don't believe in it. look at me. i'm a fine specimen of the female species, at least i think so. women are carers of the next generation, for goodness sake. without empathy, without lovingness, without generosity, without caring, these next generation are doomed! we'll be having a whole new population of selfish car-butt-stickers.

how scary! argggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!

don't you just hate it, part 1

don't you just hate it when............






..............you keep something properly, carefully, deliberately.........and then forget where it was.

connections

she called me early in the morning.

mr. x gave me tickets to the hottest event in town, he asked your mum and you to go and you know who he is lah.

*rolls eyes*

who he is? that's such an ugly way to put it. sounds like a veiled threat even. who is he?

the brother of someone important. but does that make him important in my book? or his sister, for that matter? important enough for me to get all dressed up, teeter in 5-inch high heels, plaster paint on my face and sit through hours of anorexic women walking up and down the catwalk?

no.

i would have, if someone asks me to go, and lend support to the event, to be another pretty face (ahem!) in the sea of spectators. but to go because someone is the brother of someone else, whom i don't even care? i rather stay home and watch tv.

a morning rendezvous

i was sitting in coffee bean, sipping my regular cup of americano and flipping through the dailies, when he walked up to me.

bronze coloured hair, with the cutest smile on his lips. not those artificial-dyed bronze of someone pretending to be of foreign progeniture but a natural rusty colour. very sexy. he promptly plopped himself on the seat opposite mine, with nary an invitation, and introduced himself. i didn't ask, was what went through my mind. he told me how old he is. i have no idea why. a little too young for my taste, if you ask me....... but he has the cutest grin.

he asked what i was drinking. coffee, i said. too hot for him, it seems. how was your day? forward young man. considering it is only 10 in the morning, it's only just beginning. so-so, i told him. and how was yours ? he launched into a long speech about how his day has been so far, only he was sitting too far back in his seat for me to catch a single word. i flashed him a smile in reply. he tried again, with another topic. but the music floating in the air was too loud for me to catch what he was saying. not quite conducive for a morning rendezvous.

someone called his name. he had to go. his companion was waiting. he smiled at me as he said goodbye. i wish we could have talked more, get to know each other a little. perhaps this is fate.

meet daniel. he is five. a small five, he told me, though i have no idea what a big five would have meant.

reason no. 2453 on why being a mother is the most difficult job in the world

mothers are suppose to be loving, to guide their children in right and wrong, in good and bad. mothers are supose to provide discipline and guidance, love and warmth. mothers are the mould that shape our futures on who, and what, we become in the world.

but what of a mother who fixates on computer games as much as her children? who fights with them for whose turn to play the nds? who gives in to the temptation to buy a wii, eventhough she doesn't want to spoil her children with unnecessary materialistic possessions, because she wants to play it even more? who spends hours infront of her computer, when she advises them otherwise? who is extremely unmotivated to stand on the threadmill but has to threaten her son to put in some hours of exercise in between the non-stop television addiction? such hypocrisy. such mockery. how do you teach discipline when you are not disciplined?


i am a mother. but foremost, i am a person. i did not become righteous overnight, just because i became a mother. i am still what i am. how do i become a mother then?

of life and living

she lost 1/3rd of her weight in the span of a few months. something is wrong, somewhere. nobody knows why. everywhere, you hear whispers behind her back. have you seen her lately? what's wrong with her? has she seen a doctor? she really should go to a doctor.

she's obstinate, i give her that. faced with a thousand questions and a million possiblities, she keeps putting off the visit to the doctor. is it because she has already guessed the answer? or is it because she is afraid to know? i am sure she has her reasons. we all do.

what disturbs me the most, perhaps, is that no one has done more for her. faced with the prospect of death, or at the very least the possibility of some serious illness, no one has thought it appropriate to physically haul her to the nearest doctor for some indepth investigation. many whispered. many asked. some advised. a few nagged and scolded. but none, in the period of a few months, watching her waste away to almost nothing, thought it was correct to go against her illogical decision and physically drag her for some medical attention. her 'friends' did not. her relatives did not. her husband did not.

they are afraid of upsetting her, of going against her wish. i can understand it is not the place of her casual friends to say more, but her closest and dearest? it's her own will, it's her own life, that i comprehend. but there must be a stage where you stop a person from suicide, much as the person wants to. faced with someone threatening to jump off the edge, don't you attempt to stop her?

the saddest is that no one thought appropriate to stop her from killing herself. no one thought themselves dear enough, close enough to stop her from causing more harm to herself. whispers, nudges, stares. at what point do the slapping, the scolding, the physical hauling begins? if she can't think for herself, isn't the nearest and dearest responsible for taking over that duty? if you love someone, how can you watch that person waste away just like that? the saddest thing is that she had no such person. no one who loved her enough to scold her, who wasn't afraid of upsetting their own image in her eyes, who loved her life more than she loved herself.

i was thinking of how sad it will be if it was to happen to me one day. how sad it will be if no one cared enough to take over the responsibility of caring for myself when i am not making sound decisions. no friend who would scold me, threaten even the withdrawal of our friendship when i am causing harm to myself. how many would turn up and cry at my funeral? i have no confidence that my own scenario will be any better. acquaintances? i have pagesful. friends? they call themselves that. relatives? we are close. but people who will feel my absence, whose life will be a little emptier, a little quieter when i leave? i have only a handful. for that perhaps, i should already be grateful. but it doesn't seem enough. that i have managed to only touch so few lives on my time here.

recently, in hong kong, lydia sum, popular entertainer of her times, passed away after a long battle with cancer. during her funeral, thousands turned up to pay their last respect. friends, relatives, even people she had never met nor known. many cried their eyes out. tears trickled, tears poured. eventhough she left at a considerably young age, i still feel she has lived her life. she has touched many lives and many will feel her lost. she has loved and she was loved.

that is to die without regret.

fear

i used to be afraid of ghosts. of those things that lurk behind corners and in the dark. those things that are beyond the realm of reality.


i don't know when i have stopped.


stopped being afraid of going into the dark. stopped switching on the lights when i go into a room.


i think it was when i realise i have more reason to be afraid of human. of the evil that lies in the heart of man. humans are even scarier.

of a new era

the birth of a new era.

i do not post politics. it's just not me. when you believe both sides to be ugly, when you know politics to be but a facade for people with agendas, when even honourable men are powerless to make a difference and sometimes cross over to the dark side, you can only stand at the sidelines, watching quietly whilst the ugliness grow. but the events unfolding these few days are so significant that it will be a crime not to mention it, for posterity sake or simply as a record of the times, of my times.

the last few days have been filled with emotions ranging from one bipolar to the other. people are crying; crying with joy and hope, crying with sadness and hopelessness, crying with anger and resentment, crying with humiliation. is it a good thing? in the big picture of things, most would agree yes. is it too much? is it enough? we can only hope.

i asked a friend a while back, when, if ever, will we see the end of all this ugliness. is there a light in the distant future, will we go to the point of breaking and then reborn anew? or will we be condemned to lifelong darkness, like our neighbours? he didn't care, eventhough politics has been his passion. he has already found his way out. for those left behind, for those staying, for those who insist to be malaysian, this is a new beginnning. how will the wind blow? for some, this is troubled times. projects are stopped, billions of dollars at the risk of written off. for many, it's a time of hope. whilst some cry, some rejoice. i know of each side. so, i stand at the sidelines still.

at the very least, i found a wave of renewed enthusiasm in many people. people whom has been disillusioned and apathetic for a long time. people whom the country has forsaken. people who has long given up their right to vote and the pride of being malaysian. people who are looking on to see what the changes will bring, albeit with a little apprehension, a healthy dose of wariness and a lot of skeptism. i am one such person.

memories are made of moments like these

do you know that the most beautiful things in life are usually the simple ones?

last saturday, i woke up to grey skies and the pitter patter of raindrops outside my windows. stretching lazily, i looked at the bedside clock. it was close to 9. when was the last time i had the opportunity to sleep in this late? with no guilt, no deadlines, no rush to be anywhere or do anything.

i cannot remember.

it was most pleasurable, getting up leisurely, lounging at the sofa, letting the cool breeze stroke my face. to other people in other places, a beautiful morning is sunny, bright and filled with the melodious chirping of birds nearby. to me, it has always been a grey sky, with remnants of raindrops in the air, the breeze cool, the trees gently swaying. maybe i am a true-blue romantic at heart but the feelings evoked are beyond what words can describe. the contentment, the bliss, the satisfaction. it's like filling your heart with so much, intangible yet pleasurable.

sunday i woke up to a bright glaring sky. it was hot and sunny, forcing me out of bed before i was ready to leave the cozy sanctuary. i looked at the clock. it was also close to 9. two days of indulgence. makes up for the other 200 days which i have to wake up at 6.45, when even the morning sun is still blissfully tucked in bed. after sending the kids off to their taekwando classes, the man and i drove to a neighbourhood cafe for breakfast. a quaint little place, which smelled of freshly baked bread when we walked in. the aroma itself was worth a million points. a leisurely breakfast, a menu of a different sort, savouring the newspaper at a leisurely pace, it was another level of enjoyment.

it doesn't necessarily have to be one or the other. there is no set formula for pleasure. and it doesn't have to be much. different strokes for different folks. perhaps if i were to reciprocate it this weekend, the feelings may not be there. the gratification the second time around may be considerably lower. but last weekend, i had a beautiful morning. twice.

little one, how do i teach thee?

kids!

the problem with them is that they don't behave as they should.

my little one, being of the inferior sex, of which i mean the male species, tends to be a little dreamy, unfocused and well, in his own world. that's fine, i suppose. little boys are meant to be like that. everybody moves in their own pace, so i've long ago accepted the fact that he wil not be super-performing, like his sister. and i don't expect him to be. i don't ask for 100s from him, but all the same, i won't accept laziness and failing exams. there's a fine line between leaving him to move at his own pace, and letting him develop bad habits. for one, getting him to complete his homework, which is the bare minimum for me, inevitably ends up in bargaining and tears. he'll write one word, fiddle with his ruler, his eraser, dream a little, space out a little, look here, look there and then, perhaps, write another word. then it's off to the toilet he goes for the better half of an hour, another word and somewhere in time he disappears. i think his soul is time-teletransporting when his eyes glazes over like so. if no one is around to push him a little, he prefers to let the book rot on the table, his eyes firmly glued on the television for 18hours a day, the remaining 6 hours finally dozing in exhaustion from over-stimulation. usually if there is no homework to deliver or spelling tests to learn, i let him be. that's my son.

this being his first year in primary school, i was a little apprehensive when the first series of examinations was round the corner. he didn't know what to study, he didn't know HOW to study, he didn't know when to study. such is the blurness of this little boy.

still, i wanted him to learn, how much effort you put into your exam is equal to how much results you get. he has to learn the hard way to prepare much more and much earlier for these situations. it was a lesson that cannot be nagged, only experienced. fall a little, learn a little.

imagine the big empty black hole in my mouth when he came back with two test papers with 100s on them, and a beautiful pencil case as prize from his teacher for being the highest in class. for chinese, nonetheless. the son of a banana. getting 100 for chinese. that shut me up pretty good.

so, how can i nag when he does so well for his exams, with seemingly minimum effort. hello? you are suppose to do badly so that i can nag morning and day and tell you, 'see, i told you so. study harder next time'. how do i teach him to do his homework and study conscientiously when he does not seem to need either?

being a mother is not easy. especially when things go beyond the realm of logic rationalisation.

a letter to mr. isaac newton

to: mr isaac newton
from: me
date: 3rd march 2008
subject: laws of motion

dear mr newton,

i will like to bring your attention to two more laws of motion that you have inadvertently left out.

fourth law of motion: states that an object, namely a moving vehicle, in front of you tends to move at a slower speed in relation to yourself, ie, the object behind. the operator of the moving vehicle in front will be referred to as 'idiot', 'stupid' or other names that you may find appropriate.

fifth law of motion: states that an object, namely a moving vehicle, behind you tends to move at a relatively faster speed than yourself, ie the object in front. the operator of the moving vehicle behind shall be referred to as, and this is quite a long name, 'rushing-for-reincarnation' or 'stop-tailgating me, stalker!'. one important point to note, this does not, i repeat NOT, make you, the object in front, be referred to in the above context, ie. stupid or idiot. conversely, when the fourth law of motion is in effect, you are not to be referred to as the tailgater. the law is only applied to the 2nd party involved and never yourself.

mr newton, please kindly make changes to your 3 laws of motion with immediate effect. it is imperative that scientists, students and all professionals be aware of these new discoveries, which can have gargantuan effect on life as we know it.

thank you and best regards,

prof. me
s.s.i.b., i.c.c.l.
(society of the super intelligent bloggers, institute for the cute, clever lengluis)

runaway

eh, hello??? run so fast for what? slow down can or not?! *rolls eyes*

i don't know why you are running so fast. i can't catch up with you even if i undergo special top secret surgery to have bionic limbs implanted. i'm puffing and huffing, trying to step out in the same foot as you. what's your hurry? it's not like you are in a rush to be reincarnated into li ka shing's grandson. slower, can die or not? *puff puff* sekejap chinese new year, sekejap valentine day, then birthdays come flooding past. tsunami meh?! tang tang seen. old already, need warm up first. you run so fast, i don't sleep also cannot catch up lah. my calendar already conteng until i cannot see the dates. i'm living in a daze. slow down. let me catch my breath first, ok?