the things that they don't tell you. that your heart will break when your daughter's do. that you can't smile and the day is so gloomy when she is crying in her heart. nobody tells you that motherhood is so tough. it's not enough that you had to go through all the heartbreak, nose stuffed from all the crying into pillows and loneliness the first time round, now you have to live through it all again through your flesh and blood. if only i could hold her close, if only i could tell her that it's ok, that they'll be many more heartbreak to come but in the end she'll find the perfect one. but she never tells me stuffs, so how can i tell her back? thus my heart weighs heavy in my chest. fathers have it so easy, they are forever lost in the world of their own, does he even know?

cinderella can not eat. wise people say that when the elderly cannot eat, their time is near. it's inevitable, we all know. she has been claiming that she is going to die for more than a decade now and yet she had lived strong. now, suddenly we don't hear her profess as often, but her thin body says it all.

whenever i receive news such as this, i always ask myself the same question: has she ever been close to me, as if to summarise all our interaction in a lifetime with but one answer, and to gauge how much it will hurt this time. as if it can be so easily foretold. she was somebody to me, yes, but she wasn't exactly the type i fantasised. she never held me by the hand and led me to the park, never spent hours telling me stories, both fabled and real, she never bothered about my life, never asked beyond 'where are they now' and she never knew me at all. but still, she was somebody to me. she brought me cookies and candies whenever she visited, and i think she was the best somebody to me in the way that she knew how.

the last year has been less than lucid, and answers were as readily replaced by the same questions, again and again. yet i did not feel the tinge of annoyance like all others. i don't know why. i just felt comforted. perhaps, sitting there beside her, i could sense her grasping on, trying to still care, trying to hold on to the meaning of our words. and perhaps it was because she WAS still seating there beside me, in flesh and blood, and i could touch her cold hands that it felt right. i just wished that others had loved her as much and was as kind to her. it will only be too soon before their turn will come. if only others can also understand that, and spare the harsh loud words, and look at her one more time before she is gone. if only they can remember what she had done, her kind words, her generosity, her love, and smiled at her one more time, held her hand one more time before the sun sets.

when you give someone $14 to pay a bill, and that someone banks in $20 into the utility company's account at the nearest bank, forking out another $6 from his (yes, the male sex *rolls eyes*) pocket, simply because he can bank in through the automated teller machine, and then doesn't mention even one syllable of it, not even a peep, but quietly returns the bank-in slip to you, what can you call him? self-motivated? generous?

so many names spring to my mind, but i'll just call him ....an idiot! not everyone should exercise their brain, least of all those who do not have the entire picture and think too highly of themselves. i have a hundred reasons why his thoughtless and lazy action have messed up things but at this point in time, it doesn't really matter. all i can do is sigh, grumble in this blog, and go about with my rectification operation. it started out as a very simple instruction. take the money. pay at the utility company. return the bill. the ways that it can turn out however is countless. it just goes to show that a mind's a dangerous thing. if everybody in this world started exercising their power of independent thinking, without first having all the facts in hand, we will all be in chaos.

every year i hear it, from different mouths and different places; we're apes to mimic the cultures of our western counterparts, halloween has no place in the pages of our lives. it's a little sad when you think of it, how these people have closed their minds to possibilities, formed judgements before partaking and shut the door to their hearts. it's pointless to argue about assimilation of cultures and introduction of new experiences. when people have closed their mind their ears are seldom open.
i've celebrated halloween for close to a decade now, and i don't know at which point of time it qualifies to be labelled as my culture. it started out as an excuse for a get-together of close friends with little kids, and nothing spells more fun than good food, a safe warm place to hang around and chat and an excuse to dress up for treats. seriously, what other time can you dress up in whatever your imagination fabricates? please don't start telling me stories of what happens in your bedroom behind closed doors, that is another matter altogether. we've had french maid, queen amidala from star wars, school girl, mickey mouse, 60's a-go-go girl, pirate and a whole long list of imaginary characters. we've done it through clear night skies and heavy rain. we've done it through our galoshes, umbrellas and mosquito repellants. every year, with an array of delicious food that each has contributed to the dinner table, we took a little time off to sit down, catch up with good friends and let our hair down for a little while. from my place, to my cousin's, back to my own on last sunday night.

the little one has his final year exams this week and so we couldn't carry out our annual trick-or-treating without him exchanging all his candies for the lessons in his brain. we decided to stay home and partake in the quiet affair that was going on in our block of apartment. a few households have signed up for trick-or-treating and we were one of them. came the bewitching hour, i dressed up in my white cloak, messed up my hair and "floated" out to greet the little ones who were ringing the bell for some candies. i was trying my hardest to keep on the scary solemn look whilst reaching my hand out beyond the grill door to beckon them closer. after they left, and behind the closed doors, i was jumping around with glee, like the madness  that i am. lol. you don't know the thrill of being able to act scary and frighten the little ones without their mothers thumping on your head with a frying pan until you have tried it yourself.

so, really, when you say it isn't in your culture, do you mean it's not in your culture to let your hair down for a little while and have some fun?