it's quite scary the number of scams that are going around. if you are not on your toes, for even a split second, someone may just be lurking around to cheat you, hit you, deceive you or whatever else they have up their sleeves. you could be doing anything; withdrawing cash from the atm, window-shopping, picking up kids or even just strolling around, you could be the victim of an elaborate well-thought out scheme to hustle you of your personal effects, or even you! your physical self.

the scams are endless, infinite. the ones that are exposed in the newspaper are immediately replaced by more imaginative ones. there is no contest to the imagination of mankind, especially when his boundless wit is used on illegitimate means. i've heard of so many, i've seen quite a few myself, but personally i know of one most elaborate con-job that is not often spoken, yet to be exposed but is probably the most widespread and threatening.

i'm talking about babies. you know, those big-shinny-innocent-eyed, chubby-rosy-cheeked thing. those that you can spend hours after hours looking at them doing absolutely nothing except sleep. the ones that melt your hand when they utter a single 'goo-goo' or wrap their hand around your finger. the irresistible, adorable, cute little babies. it is a well-thought out scam. really. exceptionally angelic packaging, enchanting audio, an enchanting package all in all to lure you into the trap. into what exactly? firstly, diapers and diapersful of shit! who in their right mind will want to clean up someone elses' bum and vomit if not for that aforementioned charming packaging? then, a verrrrrry long spell of sleepless nights, guaranteed to transform you into the not-so-distant cousin of the panda. it cries, and you drop everything and come a-running. sounds like some evil plot where you have been hypnotised into a deep trance and is at the beck and call of this thing yet? your life goes on hold for a couple of years, whilst this little thing grows up, possibly trashing whatever material things you may have; computers, cars, walls, clothes and definitely the thickness level of your wallet.

well, if you think that this is the extent of its control on you, you have already been scammed. you are looking at a lifetime of endless worries, back talk, insolence and aggravation. at some point in your journey of parenthood, you are bound to have the thought of 'is there a return policy for this?', however fleeting it may be, and let me tell you right now, right here, that there is no return policy. no exchange either. you are stuck with them for life. you didn't think about that when you were staring at the dark bottomless pool of black innocence and they were batting their eyelids in all sweetness, did you? you spend countless and countless hours supervising their homework, nagging good manners, etiquette and all the good virtues in life, only to realise in the end that they do not necessary practice what you preach, especially when you are not around. you threaten them, you cajole them, you bribe them, you scold them. they have transformed you into a shrew, a gangster, a nagging old woman and a mother who will always be worried about her children. always. all these because they were once a cute,irresistible,adorable little baby. would you have got into all these if babies are disgusting looking things?

if, one day you stop and think, that this is all worth it, that when they are happy, healthy and playing blissfully, that all this has been worthwhile, that you do not need to get back anything for all that you have done and given out, as do all parents, you have truly and totally been scammed. :-p

birthdays are always nice, if nothing more than that people are generally nicer to you than on normal days. you get to exercise your 'comeon, it's my birthdayyyyyy!' prerogative, blink your eyes a couple of times and it gets people moving. even the hard-core lazy bones ones.

they ask you what you want to eat, but you still don't end up screaming 'Japaneseeeee' because you know they are not maniac over sobas and unagis like you are, and there is only so much japanese food a normal person can take before they explode, japanese people not included. they ask you what you want to do, and they shuffle alongside you in the shopping centre like zombies, eventhough you don't patronize your favourite shops or see your favourite things incase one of them does turn into an actual living dead. they give you hand-made birthday cards and write the sweetest things, which kind of make you feel like you are reading your own eulogy, except that you are still alive and kicking, which is always a good thing. they fill your facebook page with the same exact two words, 'happy birthday', and you have to think of a thousand of different witty ways to reply to that. thank you for all the heartfelt brain stimulation. they bake your favourite cookies and name the receipe after you but they don't tell you what that name is, leading you to suspect that they say the same thing to every girl out there, and they crush you with bear hugs, all the time maintaining that cool tough rebellious and definitely aloof teenage exterior. they ask you whether you want to eat your red egg on your english birthday and call you 'girl', transporting you in the blink of an eye to your sweet childhood days when everything was easy and simple.

birthdays are always good, and the age is only a number game. 12 o'clock feels like the bewitching hour and very much like cinderella, everything is transformed back to the way it was.

tick tock tick tock. the clock marks each second with a slight movement of its hand. time has never passed more slowly than when you are waiting for news on the health of your loved ones. to top that off, you are thousands of miles away. the agony of not knowing, not being there, of waiting and hoping, of not being able to take things into your own hands. i have never known such torment. you laugh, you play, you walk, you talk and you eat, just like any other day, except you have a 10,000 pounds weight sitting comfortably on your heart. everything pales by comparison.

the day after i left, the nightmare began. she started out with a weak, listless voice over the phone. i felt guilty for not being there already. the next day, someone called with news that her blood sugar reading hit the roof. what?! she was never a diabetic in all her regular annual blood checks. something is wrong somewhere. the news got worse with each passing day. her ca19.9 reading has just passed the borderline. i feared for the worst but hoped for the best. i was hesitant to speak to her over the phone, afraid even, that my voice will betray what we were all trying to cover up. she has been complaining of a loss of appetite and discomfort in the her abdominal region recently. she has lost some weight. suddenly, for no apparent reason, now her blood sugar and pressure is sky high. piecing all the puzzles together, i am fully aware of what the picture shows. i have been down that road before. yet i could do nothing except to continue playing, eating, walking and talking. my hands fidgeted with the handphone the entire day. i wanted to call, to know what was the lastest development every other second, yet i was afraid of disrupting some important meeting. i waited. i was restless. i said a prayer with every step i took.

finally, the report came. there was inflammation. where? why? what? how? emergency surgery was scheduled. i don't know if i was relieved that it wasn't something related to oncology or distressed that she will have to undergo surgery in the next few hours, and i wasn't even there beside her. sure, it was a small operation. sure, it was routine stuff for the surgeon. but what if? there is always the what if, and i wasn't arrogant nor naive enough to ignore the possibilities.

everything went well. however, even when she rose from the anesthesia and called me back, i couldn't rest easy. the nights are the worse. she was gasping for breath from the lack of oxygen supply in her blood. i didn't dare to talk more. it was going to be a very long night.

i am blessed that the story had a happy ending, as happy as a successful operation can be anyway. by the time i returned, she was once more waiting at home for me. everything seemed surreal, like i imagined the entire incident in my delusional brain. when i came back, everything was back to the way it was. except for that 4-inch gash on her abdomen, surrounded by an entire patch of bruised blue-black.

i'm used to being over-worked and over-demanded. i have accustomed to being the solution for each problem and task. suddenly, it was taken all out of my hands and i was left weak and helpless, not even able to look in from afar. life sometimes mock me to show me how i am blessed but i am left with my energy drained.

the day that nobody remembered.

it started out as a day like any other, but deep in my heart was a sinking feeling because i knew that nobody remembered. it is not such a big deal, i kept telling myself, but i felt myself disappearing just a little. into oblivion, into transparency. how do i describe the feeling of fleetingness, of immaterialism, when nobody remembers the day that you commenced to exist? it was as if nobody valued the significance of your existence; no hands to tie you back, no worth to weigh you down, and so you evanesce a little, fragmenting into a little twirl of entity and dissolving into the air.

it was my lunar calendar birthday, so nobody bothered to remember the date. "not like it was your real birthday". for the past 39 years, i had red eggs and vermicelli to mark the day, with the occasional lapse in celebration. 2 years ago, everybody forgot too. funny how you don't really remember celebrating it, until nobody does as well. this year i marked my birthday with a little tear, brushed away hurriedly with the back of my hand just incase anybody caught me crying. like a cry baby, even at 39.

i have never given much weighting to my real birthdays, being surrounded by interest-motivated people most of the time. i have received large bouquets of flowers, delicious cakes, expensive presents, and i cringe because i can never be certain of their sincerity. i take it with the grace and gratefulness that is requisite of the social game. however, it means nothing more than attempts to further solidify their position in the ladder of life. letting it all go to your head will be a receipe for suicide. many extends their well-wishes, some less, others more. who is real behind these walls of grinning smiles and nodding heads, i sometimes can no longer tell. for some, i know, it is nothing more than a run-of-the-mill business commitment. there is the occasional one, who gives something from the heart, from the hands, and you know, that this is a friend. however, i have learned to take that day with a pinch of salt.

which makes the chinese birthday all the more distinct. only those closest and dearest have privy to that information. only those who are most sincere and true. perhaps when you are setting yourself up for something like that, you are destined to fall the most painful. life is that cruel. what you don't care for, you have plenty. what you value, you have none. it hurts. no doubt about that. but what can you say? you can't force people to remember. you can't make people value you more. you take what you get, and you move on.

and so, it became a day like any other day.

received a friend invitation in facebook today.

sooooooo?

received one from someone i do not know. no inkling whatsoever. her face, name, or anything else for that matter, does not ring a bell.

sooooooo? what's so special about that? at some point in their facebook existence, everybody receives a few of these invitations from 'very friendly' strangers hoping to increase their circle of friends, by a couple of hundred thousands. doesn't really matter if you are fat or thin, tall or short, pretty or ugly, as long as you are a human being. actually, i don't think that is a requisite either, as long as you have a facebook account and you qualify as one extra friend. apparently, some people out there are collecting 'friends' on facebook like i will collect stamps, and my daughter collects aluminium can tabs. go figure. the evolution of the hobbies of collecting to include modern technology :-p

well, the thing is this lady in question has only 4 friends. not exactly the high-flier in facebook. i don't know any of her friends. it sure does not help that her profile picture is a black and white creepy side profile in dark lighting. you can't see it here, because i won't repost it but brrrr, believe me, it gives me the shivers just remembering it. actually, the creepy part is that she has posted my profile picture on her wall! her wall of almost nothing short of a few posts, and i am on it grinning in a kawaii way. how creepy is that?

?!?!??!!? what is that all about? please kindly interpret what does all this mean for me? i seem to be the only other race in her group of 4 friends. i get friendly, but i seem to be singled out for very peculiar reasons that even i do not comprehend. freaky.