life's lesson

my daughter is teaching me life's lesson.

recently many things seem to go wrong. there was a sunday when everything that could go wrong did. a string of stuffs just broke down, each demanding my full attention. all i could do was heave a deep sigh and get on with it. the external hard disk drive where i have kept all their photos and videos was corrupted. the vacuum cleaner broke down. the computer was infected with virus. the kitchen glass window was in danger of falling out. the son needed a haircut. the niece needed help with finishing her assignment. the daughter was very frustrated because she couldn't get her laptop to work properly. it seems like the whole world was clawing at me.

things don't always work the way we want to. i have been sighing everyday whenever i think of my hard disk drive and the lost photos. i have also been sighing whenever i think of the new food thermos that the son has lost. it pulls me down, these thoughts. when i have a little chance to slow down and sit, my thoughts turn back to things that depress me. it is such a bad habit.

i told my daughter this. i am going to break this obsession and going to focus only on the positive. that's the problem with us. everyday there is good and bad. in everything there is something positive and negative. yet we often just accept the positive, take it for granted and merely focus on the negative, and let it fill you like it was everything. the daughter says, write down one good thing that happened everyday. write it in a book or something. she has been doing that for years; one good thing on her handphone every single day. that way we choose to focus and remember the good thing. one year later you may not remember the moment when you had that hilarious chopstick fight with your child to see who picked up peas the fastest but she chose to write it down. when times get rough, she can always take out the list and remember all the good times. what a wise little girl i have. she is and should be my role model. to be positive. to be resilient. to grab life and to live it to the fullest.

ellen degeneres (yes, i'm watching too much of ellen these days) said that the more you appreciate life, the more it gives you things to be appreciative of. karma.

today's moment of appreciation is that i have the best and most wonderful daughter and may she live happy, healthy and long.



not everyday is good, but there is good in everyday

winnie the pooh

could have been

clench your hand into a fist. now look at the bottom of your fist, the flat side that is along your pinky finger. just after the first three lines (that is the creases on your pinky finger) you will find a set of lines in between the third and 4th crease (which is your line of heart, the one that extends from your palm)

someone once told me that the number of lines show the number of children i will have. i remember that i had three lines when i was younger. i mused that i was going to have three children. however, i have over the years planned for only two and have been very careful to stick to my plan. recently, i looked at my hand again and the middle line has grown lighter and is now two broken lines instead of one continuous one.

i can't help but think that i may have wilfully stopped my third unborn (and even unformed and inexistent) child from coming to this world. somewhere there could have been, should have been, a big-sparkling-eyes, pig-tailed girl with the sweetest of smile waiting to hold my hand and call me mummy. it tugs at my heart so. i felt like i have lost something that i have never owned. 

remember this

yesterday was my last appointment with the eye doctor. it marks the closing of an interesting episode in my life, the turning of page into another chapter. the doc examined my eyesight and bone structure to see if i have completely healed since the surgery. i know i have, because i am not nervous around fast moving objects anymore. i do not cover up apprehensively when others play with balls around me. my body knows and that is how i know. i still have double vision when i look up though. i asked the doc if it will improve with time. the doc laughs. funny doc. love his reply. apparently i won't. it's something that i will have to live with. one decision, one mistake, one second and it changes your life forever. but it's not such a big deal. you just learn to live with it and move on.

i am forever grateful by the kindness that the doctor and nurses have shown me. perhaps i should have done more. i thought of chocolates. of cakes. and then i forgot. and now i regret.

i am grateful that there are still nice people out there. not just for material benefits. not just for something in return. a little gesture. a smile. a kind word. patience. sincerity. recognition. it validates your faith in the goodness of mankind and once in a while you really need to reminded that not everything / everyone in the world is ugly. especially in the world that i live in.

when was the last time you did something selfless for others? i will keep this thought in my heart and always be reminded.

another one

my birthday came and went. sometimes i wonder if we celebrate our birthday for the people around us or for ourselves.

some family members were also not enthusiastic about making efforts to mark any occasion and it is difficult to see them fake any semblance of enthusiasm for it. the boy didn't bother to wish me until i curiously prodded him. teenage doldrums, he claimed, ,which i can empathise, but not acquiesce. they wear me down with their inertia. i am disinclined to do anything to mark the day.

the girl came up with an elaborate treasure hunt, of which i am still attempting to unravel. for her time, for her effort, for her love, i am very grateful. for her reminder that it is fun to receive something from someone's heart, i am thankful. i have not receive something that came from the heart for the longest time. something that shows that someone adores you and savour your presence in their lives. for receiving that, i feel guilty. we all live in a sphere of unappreciation and self-centeredness. we go through our life often forgetting the people who has done and mean the most to us. i have gotten used to being that person that people forget.

a box of you

i keep the memories of her stored away in this little box, somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. once a year i will take it out, dust off the cobwebs and the laughter, the banter, her unique way of interaction, her familiarity, all the flashes of my eighteen years with her spill out uncontrollably.

i see it in the window of my mind like clips of a short video. i watch it like a nonchalant bystander. the heart which i have quieten so long ago stirs with flickering of sadness.

i have since learnt to put up a floodgate. incase the surge pushes me over the brink. incase i cant return to sanity and to reality.

today is her birthday. i now see her only once a year because i have grown weak. i cant keep going to the deepest darkest pit in my mind and climb out unscathed, pretending that i am alright and move on with the world. i dont dare to confront my own self, my emotions, after i have been with her. i put it all back in the box and wait for another year.

she is the same. she is there. but not there, yet is still there. i know she listens. i can feel her consciousness as if it were my own. i wish i can do more. but i have learnt through my frustration that there are some things that you cannot change no matter how hard you tried.

i love you.

excessively delicate

it has been a very trying year thus far. one horrific plane disappearance followed by many other plane crashes. weird weather pattern, water supply rationing and literally breathtaking haze. one aunty found a lump in her breast and underwent mastectomy. another had strange growths along the outer walls of her intestines (?) which doctors are finding hard to diagnose. i myself had a very intimate encounter with a softball flying at 60kmh. i have been whining over the past years that time passes too fast, so fast that i can't even catch my breath but lately time has been inching along. which isn't a bad thing if it wasn't filled with unfortunate events but i guess i can't have one without the other.

i thought my episode with the softball was my big hurdle for this year, and i thought with the worst over, things will definitely pick up. but things seem to keep happening.

last week i headed off to phuket with the family for a uni-mates vacation, the first we have had in over 20 years. the plane ride wasn't the most comfortable, and me being all jittery about plane rides and absolutely abhoring all the turbulence that some crazy people (a.k.a. my son) will call "roller coaster ride", i was nervous from the moment the plane was on the tarmac ready for take-off. the weather didn't help at all. there was turbulence all the way. i tried to go to sleep but it's not easy when you are freaking out. after 1 hour and 10 minutes, the plane finally came down for landing. however it was raining heavily in phuket at that moment and the winds were strong. through the windows, i could see the heavy rainfall slashing at us and the wind shifting us uncertainly as our wheels were ready to hit the tarmac. i realised i have never, in all my years of flying, landed in such extreme weather condition. apparently the pilot shared the same thought and at the very last second, just as we were all bracing for the jolt from the landing, he pulled the plane up into a steep ascent again.

my heart would have dropped to the floor, had it not  been the second time it happened to me. one thought and only one thought kept flashing through my mind. that was how the taiwan and iran plane crashed - bad weather conditions. love how my mind screws with me. who needs enemies? i dearly hoped that the airport control tower foresaw this and did not plan to have any plane coming down for a landing from the opposite side. we circled in the air for another hour, waiting for the weather condition to improve. in the end, when thoughts of the plane crashing straight down from the sky because it has gone empty on fuel, the pilot announced that we are flying back to penang to refuel. ok, that's a good sign, right? the pilot was keeping an eye on the fuel gauge and i'll be having good old solid land under my feet again very soon. that was until the pilot said it will take another 45 minutes to fly there.

what can i do? i was at their mercy. i picked up my jaw which had fallen to the floor with the announcement and pretended to be very busy with the newspaper. and since this post did not materialise from the realm of the after-death i have survived the emotionally scarring flight, enjoyed the reunion with my old friends and made it back in one piece. hurrayyyyy. rejoiceeeee.

apparently i am someone who hurts herself a lot. to give you the short abridged version, post traumatic flight i stabbed my hand with a knife and had problem with stopping the bleed. normal people cut their hands but being the hardcore accidental freak i had to stab it and after that scrape it every once in a while so that it cannot heal. the next day i scraped the sole of my feet against something sharp. and i matched it with two bruises on my thigh a few days later. i'm wearing the wounds like fashion accessories. the latest is my second toe nail which has been pried up all the way. i have to be careful not to hit anything so that it doesn't get ripped out. i don't pay attention, that is the problem. sigh.

do you know that you are happy

only miss the sun when it starts to snow
only know you love her when you let her go
only know you've been high when you're feeling low
only hate the road when you're missing home

so goes the song playing softly in the background. it must be such a hard way to live your life, i ponder wistfully. never knowing the value of something and never appreciating it until it is gone. not that i am someone who knows myself in and out, left and right, through and through.

but to never being able to know the value of something until you no longer have it, happiness seem  forever out of reach. i know someone who says he is not sad, but neither is he happy. perhaps it is because he is not sad that he doesn't know that he is already happy. without one, he is unable to acknowledge the other. is that how others are also living their life?

the longest

june and july have been the longest months of this year. it started out with my nephew taking a break and staying over for 2 weeks after his final exams and the kids on a one week short break from school. it was a flurry of activities, despite the fact that my kids were going back to their finals after the break, and an orgasmic explosion of food for the visitor. japanese, korean, italian, malaysian, cantonese, western, teppanyaki, ipoh chicken rice, we tried it all for a varied palate. university and college visits to near and far, 1km fun run at the break of dawn (that was prior to the injury), baseball batting (who could ever forget that) and the subsequent pain, trauma and surgery.

then my brother and sister-in-law, who were bringing their daughter over to continue her high school,  came over for what was suppose to be a week, sans the soon-to-be college-attending daughter. there was a problem with the visa and she had to stay put in hong kong until everything was ironed out. that week was filled with nerve wrecking phone calls and fishing out contacts in the immigration to speed up the process because the school term was starting without her. it was also filled with another round of satiated food sampling; ipoh chicken rice, bak kut teh, more japanese, more korean, more local, more western and more italian. in between trying to resolve the visa issue and keeping the in laws entertained, whilst trying to juggle work and the kids, i had more than my handful.

at the end of that week, the father went home and in his place came my niece, along with her grandmother and aunty. more visitors. more entertaining. that week i was swamped with resolving the first day of school, opening bank account, sorting out phone cards and settling a teenager into a new home, new environment and new lifestyle. the visitors wanted to try (vomit) bak kut teh and ipoh chicken rice too. at one point in my life i had chicken rice every single day for lunch and i still could not get enough. that was definitely not now.

after another week of more food, stress, work, going nuts and a lot of driving, all the visitors have finally left. the girl is now settling into a new chapter of her life and we are all adjusting to having her around.

my top 10 instant noodles list

in the mysterious and colossal world wide web there exists a list of the top 10 ramen in the world. according to this one man, that is. i shall not reiterate his selection here but my interest was hooked immediately. i have been a fanatic for instant noodles ever since i can remember. a steaming hot bowl of instant noodles was the breakfast that kept me company in the still-dark early morning sky before i hit my teenage years, whilst waiting for my ride to school. it was just me and mr. noodle against the world every morning.

my dream meal will be instant noodle for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the only thing stopping me is the risk of cancer, becoming bald like the basketball and getting so fat i can't get through the door, of course. strange as it is, eventhough one packet packs 400 calories thereabouts, 3 meals of instant noodles make you fatter than any other diet of 1200 calories normally would. it's the "instant noodle arithmetical rule". apparently 1 + 1 does not equal 2 in the world of instant noodles.

so, anyway i set off on my quest to personally try all of the top 10. to make this guy's list, it must be heaven we are talking about. after much looking about, i found No. 2 of the list.

it costs a bomb as compared to the normal instant noodles we have on the shelves of our land. S$11 for 4 packets. the size is bigger, granted, and the packet flavourings are huge! i guess they are trying to convince us that they are worth the money.

verdict: the taste however is not what i had anticipated. there was a tad sweetness to the curry and the coconut (santan) was too overwhelming. upon double-checking i found out that the original critic was a gwailo, and perhaps that explains for the difference in taste. to us asians, and especially malaysians, a sweet curry is like a cardinal sin. they have not been able to capture the rich and aromatic curry sauce that is found in the best curry fish head and curry laksa that is to die for. bwaaaaaaa, such bitter disappointment for the number 1 fan of instant noodle.

i didn't give up though. no one calls themselves no. 1 fan by giving up after just one tasting. i went to the bottom of the list and tried NO. 10. it was a thai tom yam instant noodle.

for those who love it, tom yam is difficult to go wrong with. i am pretty easy to please with my tom yam. during my uni years, i brought a glass bottle of instant tom yam paste to keep me company throughout the difficult initial months when i didn't know how to cook squat. a small spoonful of it into everything made me felt right at home and opened up the appetite immediately.

so they didn't have to try too hard as the word 'tom yam' was already a passing grade in my book. the noodles were fried like our local mamee, which means that technically we can eat it straight as a snack so i tried not to cook it for too long to preserve the bite.

verdict: thanks to poor lighting, my photo wasn't exactly drool-inducing. overall, the instant noodle was fair, leaning slightly towards good, but not something that i will be going back to. i stuck to the exact volume of water i was suppose to use as written on the pack but i found it to be not tom-yammy enough. for a tom yam instant noodle, it was ok. for tom yam soup it failed miserably. maybe because the lemon grass and other ingredients weren't working hard enough and the MSG and preservatives were, or maybe i had too much expectation for a dried instant noodle flavouring. 

so after, reviewing 2 instant noodles, i was bitterly disappointed. i thought i could do better. i definitely preferred my choices more and i thought i will love the opportunity, and excuse, to try other instant noodles in the name of trying to find my top 10.

that was last month. 

one month later........ i have come up with zilch. i keep going back to my favourite few: maggi curry, myojo mee poh dry, korean shin ramyun and my latest, nissin teppan yakisoba japanese fried noodle. nothing beats my favourite and whilst buying other new selection seem like a good idea, when it actually comes to choosing and cooking, my hand will automatically sneak back to the old favourites. can't teach a dog new tricks, or in this case, new taste.

and as for the review, whilst other critics come up with description that will make your mouth salivate in anticipation, i can only sum it up with GOOD, VERY GOOD, OH WOW or EWWWW, NOT SO GOOD. not exactly eloquent.

project: failure. some people are just meant to open their mouth to eat and not to pass review. 

psychobabble

went for my 2nd checkup yesterday. doc held up two fingers and said, 'you are seeing less of a double vision'. was that a question or a fact? because no, doc, i wasn't seeing any less of it, i mumbled softly. 'the area of double vision is smaller', he persisted. errr, noooo? i felt like i had stepped into a hypnotherapist's room. is he psycho-messing with my brain, trying to convince me into recovery? payyyyy meeeee tripleeeee, he will be saying next if i am receptive of his suggestions.

falling

to all appearance, my injury has healed. the eye is no longer flushed with blood like edward cullen about to make a kill. the cheek area is not swollen and the eyelid is not bruised. the numbness in the cheek and lip is only slightly discernible to the perceptive by the tightness with which i smile. i look normal once again. only a friend who knows me well, with one glance, could tell that i was off. well, he wasn't telepathic or my soul mate. it just wasn't a very good day. the pain came back after i did some light spring cleaning and after too many hours of work behind the desk. it was probably stamped all over my face. eating, laughing and even just trying to carry up my end of the witty conversation was too taxing. i don't think i am quite ready to rejoin the social circle just yet.

i am that happy easy-go-lucky girl who handled my pain and injury with laughter and jokes. i choose to look on the bright side and be thankful for everything that has gone right. but today i realise i am also that girl who is on the edge of breaking down, that who is on the brink of neurosis. i wear the word 'traumatised' very lightly on the corner of my mouth but few take me seriously. i am anxious at the sight of people playing sports, chopping things, throwing stuffs, doing loud big actions around me. i jump when the cat leap to the side of my chair and the dog barks out of the blue. i panic when people say 'here, catch'. i can't think, can't function with noise and i need the quiet and tranquility to be at peace. i cry at the silliest and soppiest movie, but perhaps i have always done that. this morning, i looked at the mirror and saw that one iris was slightly higher than the other. that was the hair on the camel's back that pushed me into the spiraling abyss today. a million thoughts of gloom flew into my mind, unbidden and unwelcomed. i am drained. i have to remember that even though everything looks alright, i still need more time to recover....inside. and i have to take things slow.

one good thing to come out of all these.....i am finally eating slowly. i don't know if i am chewing more, like i should, but i don't gulp food down like a hungry ghost let out in the lunar month of july anymore. i have had that problem since the little ones were toddler (it's a survival technique. eat fast so that you can feed them or eat last) and it has led to so many digestive problem but i have never been able to stop myself. now all of a sudden i am cautiously picking at my food. i am afraid of the soup splashing into my eye, which is akin to striking lottery but nowadays i am striking so many lotteries, just not in the monetary sense.

so, on some days i will fall. i will want to cover up and hide. i will withdraw and cry. but i will stand up again and smile.

rabbits and the poor will take over the world one day

i am sick of talking about my eye. i am so sick of talking about me. me me me. *rolls eye, yes i can only do it for the good one* beginning to sound like a broken record. so today we are going to talk about why do poor people give birth to more children as compared to the more financially-comfortable .

i read an article in the newspaper today. well, yes, occasionally i tend to do that. read. :p anyway, this poor lady, and i mean financially deficient, although her predicament does seem to be quite wretched, rents out her daughter to other people so that they can use her to beg for money at the nearby mosque. for something like $50. ok, perhaps she can earn more by actually doing the deed with her daughter (i am not familiar with the begging business but if there is a viable business in renting someone's child for $50 to beg, the beggar must be earning more than that. simple economics. demand and supply) but perhaps that is another different study altogether. so, back to this lady. she rents out her daughter to help out in the family income because her husband earns $900 per month and it is insufficient for her family of 7. 7! which means they have 5 children.

ok, i am assuming. it could be 2 grandparents, 2 parents, and 3 children but i hardly think so because 1. the couple is not that old, which goes to reason that the man will not be the sole breadwinner if the grandparents are young enough to help contribute to their income, and 2. the wife may still be able to work for some paltry income if she had only 3 children, as opposed to 5. if one child was to hold on to one limb, there will still be one left who has nothing to grasp on to. the torso perhaps. but little kids can't reach.

which brings me to the question why does the poor generally give birth to so many children? the most popular consensus i am sure is that they are lacking in other sources of entertainment at night. i don't know, you are working your butt off to support your family 24/7, to the point that you find it difficult to even put food on the table, it should reason that you are working yourself to the bones and are sooooo tired, ever so ready to hit dreamland the millisecond before your head even hits the pillow. but noooooo, for some reason you are suddenly full of energy every night and even needs entertainment to tide you over to dawn the next morning where you will have to once again use all your body strength to toil from day to night?? hello, then perhaps you should be pulling another night shift somewhere to bring in more bacon, ya think?

i don't get it. their life is difficult, so their answer to it is to add another mouth to feed? some say that they are not as informed as the city folks. well, this lady that was in the newspaper lives in johor. not kyrgyzstan or djibouti. johor by most standard is a booming city at the moment and information is readily available, especially from the 3rd aunty and 6th por-por next door. their network is so advanced that the person who lives at the end of the street will learn of how his neighbour at the beginning of the street passed gas even before he actually smells it. ewwwwww....grossssss :D well, everybody loves a gross joke. so, really? anyone want to convince me that the poor for some strange reason suffer from severe debilitating
logic impairment when it comes to procreation but otherwise makes fit reasonable judgments day-in day-out?

ok, another reason; because they are not bothered with contraception. let us assume that they at least know that sexual interaction leads to procreation. maybe not the first time, but i am sure the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th time. so because they couldn't be bothered to pull out at the very minute (i'm sorry but this is the best method i could think of if they are not informed and have no money to buy protection, lame as it is but if anybody even bothered to practice that mentality perhaps they are already aware of the problem and trying to do something positive about it. why are the poor so fertile anyway? aren't they not having enough to eat? some people can't even have babies no matter how many million times they time their interaction precisely, using a nasa-issued stop watch even) they will rather have not enough sleep, not enough to eat, not enough to educate and not enough to give medical attention? then in which case, if protection is all that is required to solve the problem of overpopulation in poor countries, why are charities not concentrating 110% on distributing free condoms everywhere? drop them like air bombs. include them with basic immunisation. give them when you distribute food. just super glue the darn thing on. fill the world with it so that you can't walk 5 steps without stepping on a condom, male or female version. put them by the drinking wells. it can always be used as a cup if one doesn't intend to partake in some heavy action later.

someone actually said diversification. as in more offspring higher chances that one will 'strike lottery', so to speak, in the walk that is life. as the cantonese will say, 'kei see sin wui tai ah?' (when only will grow big ah) so, it is not that they are uninformed. not that they are illogical and selfish. they are in fact extremely intelligent far-planning and intuitive. to actually be willing to survive decades of misery and hardship in the off-chance that one of them may become a doctor or a minister, such is the heart of a parent? research has actually shown that it is very difficult for people to break away from their extreme status. not impossible, just more difficult. like the african-american in the ghettos. no doubt some will be lawyers and doctors but because of the lack of a good education opportunity and peer pressure, the chances are very high that many will drop out from school. that said, nothing is more motivating than poverty and i have seen and respect plenty that have manage to turn it around for themselves.

i will actually be more convinced if someone was to tell me that the dad was in his throng of passion too much to care, but seriously after the 3rd child, no sleep, no food and no rest, wouldn't your passion flicker out like a dying candle? how are they sustaining all these energy??! perhaps we should be putting hidden camera in bedrooms and tapping this unknown source of energy. can replace bio and carbon fuel!

i know there are some people who are poor but they are happy with their large family and is contented, especially in the rural area because one can always work with the hands to grow food to supplement their income. as long as they are fed and clothed, they will survive. but if you are renting out your daughter to bring in more dough, perhaps you should have stopped at no. 2?

so, despite all these theories that i normally hear, i am not convinced. they sound flimsy at best. poverty affects rationality? or perhaps poverty gives them extra super-human strength and stamina. why are they making the situation worse for themselves with no thought of tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow? why add suffering that may not be that bad to begin with if one was to exercise moderation and rationality? someone interview someone in gamibia or congo and let me know? however, when using words like irrational and uninformed, be prepared to duck.

the list of things i can't do

i can't sneeze with my mouth/nose closed. this is right up there in the list. no. 1 priority. will my eyeball fly out with the pressure? *faint* i don't intend to find out.

i can't jog, run or jump. i think it's because the implant isn't affixed to the site of the fracture, so any large vertical movement may dislodge it. it's like walking on egg shell, until the doc later told me that only a hit in the eye will dislodge it. phew!

i can't get hit in the eye. self explanatory. duh.

i can't wash my face. well, technically, i can't splash water on my face. i can clean it with a towel though, otherwise i'm going to look like santa who came down the chimney. waitaminit, why is his face never sooty and black?

i can't wash my hair. again same rationale as washing my face. i can't have soap run down my face and into my eye. so i engage contortionist mode and hang my head back in the shower when i wash my hair. which can be really tiring because i have long hair. it takes forever. i think i'm also training my neck muscle somewhere along the process. next i can join the olympics and lift weights using my neck.

i can't bend down. hmmmm, this i'm not so sure but i have tried various alternative to bending down and it didn't seem to do any damage. during the initial post-surgery stage, the build-up pressure in the eyeball was pretty high so i guess i shouldn't bend my head down and increase that pressure. i have since learn to adapt and can do wondrous things with my leg and toes. with all these new skills perhaps i should think of enlisting in a circus.

i can't cook or do household chores. ha! sounds like i had to bribe the nurse to say that. *crooning smoke gets in your eyessssssss........*

i can't carry heavy stuff. this is what i find the most frustrating of all. firstly how heavy is heavy? when i feel the strain on my eyeball and the incision maybe. but i don't have a bodyguard mirroring my every movement 24-7. i need to go grocery shopping. i'm forever transporting stuff between my place and my mum's. sigh. i feel so helpless and it drives me insane.

i can't drink in one big gulp. i tried. the pressure builds up in the eyeball and i nearly choke with surprise. why would anybody want to drink in such a hurry anyway?? hallo, do you not know me? i do everything in a hurry. i need 200 hours in a day.

i can't scratch my eye. arggghhhhhh. this is frustrating no. 2. because the incision is healing, it gets itchy. so i scratch the person next to me. hahaha. can u imagine having an itch and not being able to scratch it? one of top torture methods that concentration camps employ i am sure.

i can't carry children. this the doctor specifically reminded me several times. until he found out mine are 15 and 13. chehhhhhh! what?! you don't carry your 15 and 13 year olds? i probably should tell them that.

i can't drive. sigh. another frustrating thing. i can hear the prison door slam and the sound of the key being thrown away. release meeeeee, let me goooooooo. i want my freedom. i need my freedom. simple things that we sometimes take for granted. well, the doctor didn't actually say that i can't but with my double vision, i'm not so sure i won't kill somebody.

i can't play sports. ha. my family thought i will be happy with that knowing that i have a set of lazy bones. but when you are told you can't do something, you want to do it. it's not so much that you actually want to go out and throw some hoops, but you want to have the choice to be able to do so if you feel like it. and i don't actually dislike sports, i just need a lot of cajoling and persuading. i actually don't mind it, if someone can pry me off the couch.

so, patience. one day i am going to be able to do all these again and i will once again take them for granted.

eye am truly blessed

it's monday and i finally found an oculoplastic surgeon across the causeway. four actually, a whole department, all seemingly trained in surgery for orbital trauma. wow! jackpot. ya, remember the way my life goes? no. 1 was on leave the whole week and the earliest appointment available, even for emergencies, is on thursday afternoon. which means surgery could be friday or the next week at the earliest. it has been one week since the injury and the clock is ticking against a complete recovery as time passes. no. 2 was also on leave until the next week and earliest appointment was next monday. no. 3 was.....yes, you guessed it, away and won't be coming in until friday. no. 4 only handles vvip. errrr, i hate to point this out, but how does the oculoplastic department run without any oculoplastic doctor available? what are the chances all of them are not around? considering what happened i believe that sounds just about right. but it's an emergency case, i pleaded. it's the best they can do, they said. they are not interested in listening.

even though the national eye centre was my best bet, they didn't have any doctor available. i was desperate and called around the other hospitals. the most famous one wanted me to call their ophthalmologists one by one to see which of them deal with blow out fracture. you would have thought they know their doctors but apparently they do not have that kind of service nor do they know that information. sounds more like a doctor supermarket to me. you pick what you like and pay; the hospital just provides the venue. after looking through all the biodata, i came up with a big fat turkey egg. zilch. as usual, retina surgery, lasik, plastic surgery, the lucrative business of cosmetic surgery and retina detachment. no one hardly gets hit in the eye. i wonder why. my hubs wonder what happens to all the boxers in the boxing arena. i tell him that they don't get punch in the eye at 60kmh. people duck or turn their faces most of the time, i am guessing. me, i never saw the ball coming.

so i called another equally famous hospital. they asked me to email my ct report and will get back to me with a suitable doctor. bearing in mind that they did not have an oculoplastic department but still i was soooo desperate. that eye-patch with the skull picture is looking more real as time pass. i called a few other numbers, which in the end i didn't know which was for what. none of them had the doctor specialised for the skill. i recalled doctor no. 4 and i was suddenly pissed off that she only handled vvip. did i hear that wrong? i called them again. this time apparently it was the branch of the national eye centre at hospital no. 2. nope, hospital no. 2 didn't think to recommend me to that eye centre annexe that was sitting very prettily in their hospital ground. a very sweet lady answered my call and listened to my pleading. she passed me on to her supervisor who tried to tell me that all their consultants are very experienced and that i should just go down for an appointment. i have no doubt they are but mine is a very special case and only a handful of surgeons are experienced in performing the surgery. i need an oculoplastic surgeon i told her. she passed me on to her manager, who upon hearing the word 'blow out fracture' said that i definitely need an oculoplastic doctor. hell yeah! i felt like shouting hallelujah at that point. break out into a dance step with some dancing on my table. finally someone who understood and spoke the lingo. i could have reached through the phone line and kissed her if i could, but well i'm not that limber. i told her i know but all your oculoplastic surgeons are away. she agreed to call their secretaries to see if any of them can come back just to see me.

this lady is an angel, i tell you. one simple gesture that makes all the difference in a person's life. not even that difficult, not even that demanding but not one single other person bothered to do that little bit extra. not the hostile angry receptionist. not the dense one that started work not long ago. not the indifferent one who looked at the computer screen, saw that no doctors were available and just read what it wrote. not the nice one who tried to help but wasn't trained on where to look. not the bored one who just wanted the clock to strike 5 times and go home. we are all of them sometimes. we do what is expected of us and nothing more. we don't ask more, we don't try more, we don't touch more. simply because it is just easier. i should remember this. i should remember the lesson this lady taught me. i don't want to live my life like the others, not bothering, not trying, not touching, not making a difference.

so, to end the story, the doctor came back to see me after hearing of the nature of my injury. he agreed to perform the surgery the next day. i went through my first GA, my first hospital stay (aside for births), my first serious injury, my first surgery, my first implant and my first overnight stay in the hospital alone. i know this sounds really weird but the hospital bed was the most luxurious and comfortable bed i have ever slept in, even more so than 6 star hotel rooms and palatial residences. it's probably the GA talking. nothing like a little GA to really knock you out.

he has since performed the surgery and everything is on the road to recovery. i have to go back for check-ups. the numbness in the cheek, lip and teeth will fade with time, and the double vision, which seems to have worsen for the moment, will also eventually improve. i just have to avoid being hit in the eye for a few months, or hitting myself in the eye, which i seem to be doing a lot of post-surgery. i guess i am still traumatised on a deeper subconscious level. i am dreaming of insects zeroing in on my eye. also poking my eye in my sleep but as i have to wear a plastic eye guard at night, it's not too bad.

so, i survived all these new firsts. funny thing is i never once felt that i was unlucky to be hit by a ball or lament my lamentable luck. if anything i feel blessed. i am blessed that the ball hit me and not any of my loved ones. my pain i can take. their pain will rip my heart out. i am blessed that i have so many people around me who sincerely cares about me. my son was a little detached, cool and aloof perhaps, but maybe, i am hoping, he just has trouble expressing what is inside his heart. i like to believe he loves his mum just as much. i am blessed that i am able to find the best doctor and afford the medical attention. i am blessed that my eye didn't rupture and i still can see, double-vision or not. i am blessed that everything is behind me now.

even eye have enough of my eye-puns. groannnnnn!

how do you like it?

 heck, i didn't even know how i like my eggs done. happens apparently to someone who has been the one half of a couple for the longest time. as days pass, you lose a little bit of yourself with every compromise, with every negotiation, with every give and take. sometimes you end up forgetting who you are.

i also didn't know how i like my coffee. americano plain and simple? dripping sweet caramel macchiato? strong and black espresso? creamy soft cafe latte? or did i prefer tea over coffee, for that matter. it took time, countless trial and errors, many visits to cafes and coffee houses to finally found what works for me. life is an endless process of learning, about others, about the things around you as much as about yourself.

eye am what eye am

a family-friend doctor recommended me another ophthalmologist who seems to be familiar with the procedure, who from his deserted private practice in the run-down part of town seems to be on the verge of retirement. mr doctor however seems to have no intention whatsoever to carry out the operation. hmmm mmmm, ya ya, ok ok, go back to your ophthalmologist. doctor's decency code not to steal others patients of some kind perhaps? his description of the procedure sounded like it was from several decades back; using a piece of bone from my thigh somewhere to patch up the fractured area...... a little too barney and flintstone for me. he didn't offer, i didn't push. 

the same doctor friend later recommended that i look up a facial maxillary surgeon. oral and facial maxillary deals mainly with injuries and defects in the neck, face, jaw, tissues of the oral and facial area, starting out as a dentist for most of them before further specialising in this field. i am not saying that all facial maxillary surgeon do not know how to perform the operation but i will very much prefer someone who is also trained as an eye doctor so that my eye will be given priority and well taken care of. i really hate walking on planks and wearing ruffled shirts. i tried to tell him, i need a good oculoplastic but hard to tell, i think i could have been talking to a wall. he wanted a team of doctors to perform the surgery: an ophthalmologist, a nerve doctor, a facial maxillary surgeon and a GA. all this somewhere across the causeway. a bit crowded in the operating theatre you think? maybe some will be munching on the popcorn whilst others reach for the coke for a bit of refreshment. i want just one. oculoplastic. an eye doctor who specialises in surgery of the orbit. an all in one package. sigh. how do you subtly intimate to another person who is a doctor that his medical opinion is err... misguided and archaic, especially when he is senior to you. well, with hands fidgeting and fretting, you really don't. whilst he is a very good doctor in his own field, it is almost impossible for a doctor to be up-to-date with every procedure that is known to every single part of the body. we are talking millions probably and mine is such a raw odd-case one that even i am having difficulty locating the specialist for it. what he knows is what he had learnt text-book style many eons ago and what i know is what i have thoroughly googled in the last week through countless updated medical websites and research theses of specialists in the field. that said, i still respected his opinion for there are so many medical things that he knows about the body which i probably have never heard of. again, i took his kindness and sincerity from all that.

eye eye matey

so i continue to do more of what i do best, google, and i found that my injury is dealt with by a very specialised field of ophthalmologist. oculoplastic. an ophthalmologist who does surgery for the orbit area, eyelid and surrounding area. there are only a handful of oculoplastic surgeons out there, even less with many years of practical experience in trauma injuries and blow out fracture. simply because that specialty encompasses double eyelids plastic surgery and you can guess which one is the more money-making popular surgery which most of the doctors will prefer to concentrate on. so thus began my search for an oculoplastic surgeon with experience in blow out fracture.

most hospitals do not have an oculoplastic doctor. however, i found a lady doctor in this famous posh eye centre, as opposed to a clinic because they have trucks-full of ophthalmologist in all specialties there but they have only one, 1, sole, single, singular, oculoplastic doctor. two technically, but the other was a really pretty young lady who spend many years in korea and los angeles, the plastic surgery heaven of the world, so i am guessing she is more into the aesthetic part of her field.

this new lady doctor took a look at my eye and scheduled another appointment a week later
for pre-operating follow-up. a week sounded long, but i needed some time for the swelling to go down, and hopefully for the eye to escape its prison (fat hopes! doc said there is no such chance). actually this very delicate timing is a topic of much research and debate because too long and it will lead to fibrosis of the tissues, the orbit floor will have begun to repair across the entrapped muscles as well as scarring. freeing and repositioning of the soft tissue will also become more complicated. too soon and the area will still be swollen. plus there is always the chance that the double vision will correct itself in a week or two. low perhaps but there is always a chance. oh yes, somewhere along the way i forgot to mention that i have double vision. hence why i need the surgery. direct straight vision is a-okay but somewhere north, south, east and west, and all the in betweens i am seeing various degree of doubleness. two lava chocolate cakes, two diamonds, two eye-candy, dream come true? it's most disconcerting, confusing and unnerving. i'm hoping it won't be permanent.

so, i finally found someone who can actually help me in my predicament. hurray, right? life is never that easy. the catch is that the centre is located in one of our busiest and hottest shopping centre. hence there are no overnight stays or round-the-clock nursing care and monitoring as in a normal hospital. perhaps most eye surgeries are simple basic procedures which patients can return to the comfort of their own home for recuperation. in my case however, sigh, i have a heart arrhythmia which i have not really seek professional attention for, which means i have a heart that prefer to beat to kylie minogue rather than the usual boring steady beats. even my heart is full of character. tak boleh tahan. i have seen a cardiologist, for like 5 minutes a few years back, but she couldn't catch the irregular heart beat with a 5 second ecg (or what to my annoyance felt like 5 seconds) and since my heart was of a regular size, she concluded that i have a structurally sound heart. never mind the knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door that i get in my chest every so often. so, since madam cardiologist says live with it and mr google pretty much confirms that, i never had it seriously looked into. that and the acid reflux and gastritis which are pretty much causing the arrhythmia. ha! bet even some cardiologist won't see that link. well, apparently the world is full of people like me. no, not cute adorable ones with a lovely sense of humour even when she is at a risk of going blind but people with harmless heart arrythmia as a result of digestive conditions. see? how the things we don't take care of all comes back to bite us at the same time? that is always the irony of life so pay attention and learn a lesson. take care of all the little things in your life.

with GA (general anaesthesia) suddenly this is something that i have to bring to their attention and post-operation attention seem more imperative somehow. it's probably not likely that people who have already woken up from GA collapse in the middle of the night from a heart that dances to pop music but who knows, i have not googled enough about the heart to be a full-fledged cardiologist yet. so better to be safe. even the ophthalmologist wasn't too sure if it was going to be a problem. it was left to the GA doctor to decide. so, it doesn't look like this eye centre day-care thing will work for me.

another thing was this lady was going to make a incision right under the lower eyelash. and then she will glue it up. haha. glue. elephant or uhu? not the most ideal way to go in considering it will leave a scar. one way or another i seem to be getting closer to my interview as full-fledged pirate. some doctors may go in through the underside of the lower eyelid and hence no scar will be seen but apparently this is not how she intends to do it. scarring is not a big issue in her book. :( er, why not???? it should be right up there with concern no. 1: correcting my vision and concern no. 2: not killing me. how can one be so nonchalant about scarring someone, especially when one has an option. i conclude that she is not experienced enough.

so my adventures continue.......

eye have a story

well, it sure has been an eventful week. i have experienced many firsts again, which at 43 i thought i have already 'been there, done that' for most of the major checkpoints of life. that said, given the choice, perhaps i will not choose to experience the few firsts that i did during recent events. 'perhaps' is maybe too feeble a way to put it. i definitely will not choose to go through it. no sane people will. but then in life we seldom have a say in what cards are dealt to us.

it all started with a very innocent game of softball batting practice. you know, the type that continuously shoots the ball from a machine and the player is suppose to hit it. to make a long story short, the softball hit my eye directly at 60kmh. i don't know why they named it softball because it is anything but soft. ouch is right, but perhaps more like *@Y#*)&^#@* followed by &!&^#!#%&%#!&!&#%. the shock, the pain, the trauma that followed still haunt me very clearly when i close my eyes. the proprietor of the batting cage place didn't bother to show his face until i requested for some medical assistance, and neither did any of his bangladesh staff. their lackadaisical attitude towards safety, emergency medical support and operating guidance and instruction for their machines definitely leave something to be desired.

in the end, he did come, with an ice pack in one hand and a smirk on his face. which brings me to a very funny statistic that i compiled post-event. the first reaction that almost 70% of my friends and families that heard of it thereafter was to sue that bugger. omg, sue that guy. or 2nd reaction....omg how are you?! sue that guy! i don't know, i just don't want to go there. i don't want to be all angry, bothered and caught up in a who was wrong argument. what will i even hope to gain from all that? compensation? it's not worth it. an apology? will that turn the world anti-clockwise and turn back time? he's definitely no superman. awareness for other customers of the danger? googling that, there doesn't seem to be any other complain so i believe this was akin to striking lottery. i will have very much preferred the monetary version to this, but as i said earlier, we seldom have a say in what cards are dealt to us. and well, with such a windfall such as the lottery first prize, i have this wacky fear of karma. you win some, you will lose some. in my case, i am losing some.....so there is no way i will lose some more right? ha, my absurd sense of logic.

anyway, back to the injury. it wasn't a simple bruised swollen eye, as much as i will like it to be. i headed straight to the GP in the shopping mall for emergency attention, incase i die from brain haemorrhage or something like that. ok, i am somewhat of a hypochondriac but i think it's a justified fear in this case. :p not so, according to mr GP. if i had one i would have died in his waiting room and won't live through all that queuing for my turn. that's reassuring! waitaminit, then what about all those stories i have heard about people suddenly keeling over the next day because the brain was slowly haemorrhaging? oh well, if he said i won't die from it, i won't die from it. i definitely don't want to go into intensive hypochondriac mode at this point in time and imagine all types of scenarios to freak me out. breatheeeeee.

mr GP gave me some antibiotics, anti-inflammatory slash painkiller, blood circulation meds and to go back to see him  if it gets worse. if i survive the night that is....was softly playing at the back of my head but then that was what the people around me have to deal with, not me. death is always easier on the death-or as compared to the death-ee. morbid. oh well. i did survive the night, with ms pain and ms traumatised as my bedside companion. i couldn't even cry because i didn't want the pressure to build up in that eye. sigh. so logical as ever. best night sleep in a long time i believe. konked out more accurately.

the next morning i visited an ophthalmologist. after the ct scan i think she was even more dumb-founded than i was. she had her head in her hands. it was out of her field of expertise. ha. eye doctor. eye injury is too much for her. see the irony. to be fair, what i had was a blow-out fracture. simply put, the orbital floor was fractured and there was a big gap through which the eyeball was squeezed into from the force of the hit, and as such the muscles and tissues surrounding the floor of the eyeball is trapped and unable to be free. so i am seeing double vision. the median wall, which is the one next to my nose, is also fractured and some orbital fats (what! i have fats there too?! sigh) are squeezed there too but that is a smaller fracture and one of my smaller problem. yes, ms google queen have indeed become an expert in this field. with experience comes knowledge. it will be nice if i gain knowledge through the usual route like studying and reading, like people normally do, but nooooo, i have to do things the drastic way.

i'm lucky that the orbital floor fractured i am told. haha. lucky. funny how i don't really feel that but apparently it's one of life's unsolvable mystery that our body is constructed in such an intelligent self-healing, self protecting way. our orbital floor is designed so that should there be trauma or sudden force to the eye, the floor and the medial wall will collapse and the force will be redirected to another direction, as opposed to the rupturing of the eyeball itself. which is not a good thing because that will mean i will have to wear an eye patch and stand in line to be the next captain of a ship with a picture of a skull for a flag and go argggghhhh, ahoy me mateys! i really don't fancy having black rotting teeth.

so, anyway, ms ophthalmologist wasn't experienced in conducting orbital trauma surgery, as most eye doctors normally aren't. lasik, retina detachment or injury, those are the money making things that they get into. it's quite sad how our world is motivated by that abstract concept of worth on flimsy paper that can at any moment be nothing more than pulps of wood but such is the way our world revolve. anyway, she recommended me a plastic surgeon and will get in touch with me as soon as he returns her call. plastic surgeon. my first thought is finally i am going to see a plastic surgeon and i won't even get double eyelids, sharp tall nose, perky breasts or thin thighs to show for it!!!!! wth! that was when i realised she was out of her depth. that and the fact that she never got in touch with me after that. which seems a little callous to me for a doctor, what with the hippocratic oath and all, but i am resolved not to dwell on the negative. i wasn't very sure that a plastic surgeon is the best doctor for my injury as most of them will have mountain of experience with nose reconstruction, boob jobs, big lovely eyes and a little tummy tuck here and there. but the eye? it is a very delicate area with so much nerves, muscles and tissues and one false move may make the difference between the old me and a new not-so-improved cock-eyed near-blind me. onwards to the next doctor then.

i have never had a surgery. i have never had general anaesthesia. i have never had any serious injury. i had never been admitted to a hospital, aside from the two times i gave birth to the little two bumps that was residing in my tummy for nine months. i have never had so many people ask about me or worry about me. it was indeed an eye opening occasion, lame pun intended. in trying times you learn about people; those who love you truly but don't wear their hearts on their sleeves and are there for you when it matters, those that readily have a kind word to offer you but you neither hear nor see from thereafter, those that say the right words at the right time without anything else of themselves to offer and those who jump in with the sweetest words and the slowest mini actions. regardless of everybody's true sincerity, everyone offered a kind word. that should be what i look at and focus on. what we do or not do is sometimes a result of our own predicament, our own situation. perhaps some are too busy, some caught up in their own troubles, some didn't felt in the position to impose, some thought they have done enough.  i shouldn't judge. what i choose to take away is the kindest that one can offer.

newton: every action has an equal but opposite reaction

one action that cannot be forgotten. one breath of anger that cannot be diffused. one resentment that leads to a chain of event. ending up in a tale of violence, gory, blood, pain and suffering. one act. one person. one event. many couldn't sleep soundly in their beds that night.

sometimes we cannot imagine the repercussion that our one single action can have. because of that, we do what we think is right, guided by our faith, our belief and our conscience. what do we do when we face the backlash of the fury even from that? that not always good things happen to good people (or perhaps not 100% good people but we are all trying) who took the good and correct path. where do we go from there? do we still continue to be good? because that is the only way we know how to live. but how do we go on if we cannot trust in the decency of others and the goodness that is at the very heart of mankind?

he stole from the company. in so many ways, and at each possible opportunity. he was a crook, no buts about it. two high level employees, who reported directly to the boss, came up with a plan to entrap him and to gather enough evidence. inevitably he was caught and reassigned. it was bound to happen, sooner or later, one way or another. his 'reassignment' was merely an antecedent to his dismissal; a more deferential and sensitive way to remove him from his post, which should have been a much appreciated gesture.

however, it wasn't enough. the two employees were attacked by parang-yielding men several months later; two separate occasions, two weeks apart. coincidence? it will be a far stretch of credibility to believe in if it were so. decent normal men do not go around upsetting triad gang members in their daily lives. it is a farce that one human life could be bought by just five thousand ringgit, that which is considered loose change to some.

it was a scene from "young and dangerous". two men walked up with helmets on their heads and long knives hidden under their jackets, just as he alighted from his car. they walked up casually behind him and started slashing away. at his back. at his hand that was raised to block off the attack. at his leg, which was probably their target. how many thousand ringgit does it costs to buy someone's leg? a heroic guard came out to do what little that he could. if only there was more of him in the world, and less of those who do not think twice about taking others' lives. it was like a scene from the movie. it could very well have been, had there been a director hiding behind the tree, ready to yell out 'cut'. even before bystanders could move their limbs from its frozen stupor, the assailants have walked calmly away.

i drove past that place yesterday. the blood was still fresh on the wall. the people huddled around nervously, getting caught up in their gossip. people alighting from cars looked right and left, back and front with apprehension. others who are unrelated to the characters, who do not even know the alleged conspirator, walked frenziedly to their cars, imagining that the grisly scenario could happen to them.  that night i jolted up from my dream with the sound of my doorbell ringing. i imagined crazed robbers entering for vengeance but above all, i had imagined the door bell ringing. it sounded so real, so real that it pierced through my deep slumber. that night i slept restlessly, and many others joined me in their own houses.

i drove past the place today. the blood has been wiped clean. two additional men now stand guard at the door. people are still huddled around, gossiping nervously. overnight, every man lingering near their motorbikes or around dark staircases are regarded suspiciously. nobody is at peace anymore. some have changed their daily habits, their way of life, to safeguard against the senseless attack.

now one lay wounded in the hospital, grievously hurt but not life-threateningly so. tendons and veins had been severed, months of recuperation and therapy lays ahead. his children is probably thankful that they still have someone to call dad. but he didn't do anything wrong. he did what he thought was right. and this was his repayment.

one action. one person. one vengeance. lives were changed.

yet this may not be the end.

WHAT??? sapp

it started out with a few photos of herself. errrr.....okaaaay. you look lovely, i thought. why you felt you needed to send it to me out of the blue, i have absolutely no inkling of an idea. an aunty (who is in no way related to me. we asians call all our parents' friends aunties and uncles. go figure.) who i very rarely see, sent me photos through this online messaging app. the second day, she sent me several (hundred) photos of my parents and her. ahhhhh, i thought......the first was antecedent to the family photos. sweet. she has incidently sent the same to my mother and probably figured why not just bombard someone else's handphone with hundreds of photos (haha). pretty. the third day she sent me a photo to tell me good morning. hmmmm......running out of photos to share, are we?

followed by a cute baby. awwwwww.......

then it just got weird. she sent me photos of weird looking fruits that look like female body parts...............

and male body parts......!!!!!!!

what even??!!?! isn't it a tad inappropriate? i'm not exactly her best bud. i barely spoke ten sentences to her this year and zilch for three years before that.

apparently online messaging brings out the cheekiness in people.

cinderella's last chapter

on looking through old posts, i realised that i didn't blog about the last chapter of cinderella's story. i did pen it down somewhere, i think, or maybe my cheese-holed brain is deluding me once again. however, all that is not important.

cinderella left us somewhere in the early days of 2013. by the second half of 2012, cindy has forgotten most of us. i talked to her, but i receive no acknowledgement whatsoever. she was past the stage of mistaking me for someone else. way past the stage of calling out my name. way way past the stage when her eyes lit up because she recognised me. her shell was there without a soul. she remembered her eldest daughter though, and that was enough consolation for us all, or was it enough for just me.

towards the end of 2012, she was doing poorly. wasting away because she didn't eat, i was told. laid in bed all day. which was what i didn't understand. i could never understand and hopefully i would never understand. how can they let her not eat? diluted congee, watery porridge, nutritional drink, whatever to give her sustenance. one spoon at a time if it comes to that. at the very least admit her into a hospital. they would have hooked her up to a drip and found out what was wrong. if that was not a red flag, i don't know what is. however, i cannot be quick to judge. i was not there. i only believed those things were not done from what i hear and what see. perhaps there had been more. i hope there had been more. i watched her slip away with my very own eyes.

they wanted her to hang on for her granddaughter's wedding. whether it was to see one of her grand-daughter get married, or whether it was to avoid the how-many-years-cannot-get-married-after-a-funeral i do not profess to know. she was admitted into the hospital during the last few days. the doctor said something of her condition, which i cannot recollect accurately now because i have let it go. something about her colon blocked for too long, and then burst, releasing all the excrement within her body, and subsequently infection within her body. her body, without nourishment, was too weak to function properly. i remember the anger i felt, yet i could not let it show. who am i to get angry when her children are so nonchalant? is there such a thing as living too long and being too old?

she was there for the wedding. she drank the tea. then she went back to the hospital while they continued with part two of the wedding in east malaysia. she died the next day, and they didn't return home until after the wedding.

i can't judge. i am not her child. i felt she wasn't loved and she didn't lived in love. for all her stories and her life long lived, cinderella's story wasn't a happy one. i don't know if it she didn't do enough giving in her lifetime, hence she didn't receive enough or perhaps she did receive love, but it wasn't displayed in the usual way for bystanders like me to see. yet that can't be true, i keep telling myself. she brought them all up, her children, her grandchildren. she spoilt them with a little bit of money when she could. they grew up with her. she was so close to them. but i didn't see them cry. i didn't see them stay in the hospital for hours and hours long. i didn't see them visit her when she was healthier, or when she was sicker. i didn't see them buy things for her. perhaps they did. maybe i just didn't see it.

i adored her, but it wasn't the type of love that made me die a little when she passed. she was never in my life much and i never knew the real her. i loved her the best i could and i was there the best i could. was that how it was with the others? just that the level they could afford to give back was lesser, yet they gave all they could have?

she is six feet underground now. i didn't go back for her one year anniversary, but they all did. i think it hardly matters now since she isn't around to see it or feel it. i don't see the need to show to those surviving. i loved her as much as i could when she was here.

writing this, it is the first time i am crying since her death. i didn't cry when they told me she died. i didn't cry during the funeral. i didn't cry when i saw them lower her into the grave. i never told you, but i miss you. i miss our lunches and dinners. i miss our chats. i miss your visits. i miss hearing your voice.

i wonder if anybody else remembers.

evolution

i like myself more when i was younger.

when i was younger, i remember watching the world with rose-coloured lense. true, i was caught up in my own world, but it was also a much happier place to be. i strived to be the best that i can be; to continuously improve myself and make myself into a better person.

i was considerate of others' feelings, holding my tongue when i know my comments may hurt or discourage. i tried to offer a helping hand whenever i get the chance. i loved and was loved in return - by friends and families. i trusted and believed and was always around to lend a listening ear. i enjoyed and appreciated everything that was given to me; be it materialistic or in the natural surroundings that enveloped us. i worked hard and played hard - pushing myself to fully optimise the time that was given to me. i had dreams, i had goals, i had motivation.

now, i look back sorrowfully and wonder what happened to the young me; the one who was young at heart. the one with all the spirit and fight. living in the adult world, i am constantly surrounded by lies, greed and corruption. whilst i try hard not to be cynical and lose faith in the goodness of mankind, i sense i am fighting a losing battle.

the dark side is slowly luring me to their realm. already i am cynical when people talk to me. all round me, people lie. some to get what they want, others just because they can. what kind of world are we living in when people lie just because they can? who do we trust?

i am afraid of helping because i fear of being exploited. we hear so many stories of people being robbed when they stop to help a stranded motorist. or cheated when we trust strangers. i was once approached by a stranger in a shopping centre for some money to make an outstation phonecall; i choose to believe but i know deep in my heart that this was a ruse.

when a car stops to ask for direction, my first thought would be of wary, and a reminder to myself - to maintain my distance in case they attempt to bundle me into the car. when i see a beggar in the pasar malam, i remember the story of the professional beggar who has a mercedes and bungalow. when i see donation drives by huge corporations, i wonder how much of the money will reach their intended recipient. i am surprised when strangers are friendly and immediately think of their ulterior motives. i maintain my coolness and aloofness to keep my distance. when repairmen come knocking, i cannot leave them unattended or trust them to keep their hands off my belongings.

i procrastinate many things because they do not bring me joy or satisfaction. i am always around, but not in soul.

i don't like the person i have evolved into. and i don't like the society which has made me like this.

ohtoke

last sunday was the first time i have lost my son, in his 10 years of life. just thinking about it brings a very sour feeling to the very core of my being.

i did not even realise when he was missing. the little one has a very bad habit of walking a distance away when he is throwing his tantrum, not wanting to take our hands and shrugging us off to show he is displeased. if we slow down our steps, he will slow down his. we have since learnt to let him be and give him some space, and when he has cooled down everything will return to normal again. last sunday, he was, as usual, angry for some small reason and walked a few steps behind us. we turned our heads every so often to see if he was keeping up. we wandered from shops to shops, window-shopping to pass time. we were looking at some CDs when daughter realised that the little one was not in the shop. i wasn't particularly worried for some reason, believing that he was hiding in some corner and still sulking. however, he was no where to be found. we walked out of the shop to return to the previous one when we saw the little one walking towards us behind a guard and in tears. only on seeing him cry did i realise that he was lost, and had been for some time, only without us being aware of it.

the little one has been walking up and down the row of shops looking for us, not knowing that we have just stepped to the next shop. growing desperate and frightened, he had looked for the security guard to help him find his parents. unfortunately i greeted his tears with severe reprimand. poor little one, shaking with fear, and mother still scolding the daylights out of him, in between hugs and comforting. i had to make him understand that his wilfulness and his stubbornness had finally gotten him in trouble. we have told him time and time again to stay close but he did not want to listen. children. they have to experience it personally before they will heed your advice. woe are the parents who have to see them burn themselves in the process.