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?

many many years ago, never in my wildest dream will i dare to imagine that i will one day be able to have lunch with him. just that hand's length away from him, talking about casual things in life, chatting, joking and laughing. once upon a time, my dream was just to be able to find him again and know how life has been for him, if he went on to become the doctor of his ambition and whether his eyes still twinkled like so. that dream came true, someone found his contacts and i thought that was where the story ended. but sometimes the powers that be smile kindly down at me.

that day, that lunch was more than i could ever ask for. actually, it was the second lunch. the first, some years back, was too ackward, too forced, too unreal. it left me with many regrets. this time round, maybe because i was caught off-guard by his eleventh-hour invitation, i had no time whatsoever to run it through my head. i'm usually better when i don't use my over-analytical head :-p

lunch was simple, the conversation casual. we talked about our lives, past and present. perhaps it was age that mellowed me. what struck me was that he seemed to understand. that it was easy talking to him. i guess some things never change, no matter how many years in between. i can't even remember clearly the things that happened, many memories have been erased with time. i doubt he can remember too. we were both too young. whilst he was my first puppy love, sweet and memorable, i was nothing more than a passing fancy. still, it was alright. it didn't really matter. life is about our memories, our feelings. just because it was not earth-shattering and deeply etched in the heart for him, it does not make the memory any less sweeter.

what that one and me had was sweet memory. and now, a casual friendship. neither wants anything more. i want to say a word of thanks, but only in my heart. thank you for staying so pure and good. thank you for staying you.

shovelled the older one out of bed today to keep me company for my sporadic 30-minute morning walk around the neighbourhood. i never did like the leery stares from strangers that hang around by the side of the road for no apparent reason than to freak you out with their trailing looks. maybe i am just delusional when released into the wild.

barely 2 minutes into our walk, we strolled straight into a dense fog. right in the early morning sun, a fog out of nowhere, so thick that you can barely see beyond. it would have sounded like a scene from a ghost movie if not for the smothering fume of pest control spray.. despite holding our breath and using our shirt as a filter when our breath could no longer hold out, we couldn't help but inhale some of the toxic fumes. why they are carrying out the spraying during rush hour peak traffic time when most people are on the streets, i assume they are trying to reduce the population of pests, as well as human residents, in the area to improve traffic conditions.

barely 15 minutes into our walk, we made a planned (hers, not mine) detour into the neighbourhood big M for her breakfast. i get the vague feeling that i have been conned from the word go. my morning exercise is very rapidly turning into a stroll to get her favourite breakfast. she settled on her breakfast menu in a jiffy; sausage mcmuffin (without egg), one milo ice and a cup of hot coffee for dear ole mummy to sip on whilst the little bunny gnaw at her food at the speed of grass growing.

apparently, mcd doesn't have 'service with a smile' on the menu anymore. we were offered it's latest introductory menu instead: 'service with a scowl'. there was some friday fashion thing going on: the man stacking the utensils was wearing a shocking pink plastic party hat whilst the fries man was wearing bunny ears. the lady behind the counter serving us was wearing the latest face-black-like-the-bottom-of-a-pan look from paris' winter fashion look. whilst we were halfway through saying our order, she turned her attention to her colleague. i looked straight into her eyes but it didn't bother her one bit. perhaps she's used to getting stares from people. our order turned into one sausage mcmuffin, with egg of course and the coffee turned into a cup of tea. they do magic with mcd breakfast now too! quickly we took a table and started on breakfast before she started pulling a rabbit out of the milo. no drama whatsoever. i seem to mellow with age.

the walk back took another 10 minutes. my half hour morning exercise turned out to be a one and a half hour outing with 25 minutes of exercise and almost an hour of dawdling in between. the day didn't turn out as expected but it was still a good break from the monotony. daughter and i had a nice time together to add to our little memory bank. this is probably the first and last time she will wake up at 8am to have a walk with me.

i remember there was a time when her gift was the most precious thing ever. a beautiful glossy-paged story book from london with the most amazing pictures. i can't remember the name of the book, nor do i have the book anymore, but i still remember the awe and wonderment when i flipped the pages. a book like that was rare and a real treat to the eight year old me. my shelves were lined with enid blytons in black and white and pages so coarse you could sand the table. so, to the little girl back then, it was the most beautiful book in my possession.

now, so many years later, a branded handbag worth so much more than that book echoes with emptiness. is it because she didn't mean to give it to me but only upon seeing that i was around, sent someone to scurry down to her car to retrieve it that the sincerity is absent? i can't help but think that there are many more such gifts of convenience sitting comfortably in the back boot. or is it because it is not the first time?

has she changed? or have i changed? or is it because the time, the place and our roles have changed? life was simpler when a gift was just a gift and not innuendos of intention. perhaps, it has always been, and my mind was too childish to recognise it. then again, aren't all gifts a tool for exchange of your affection? so why should i look at this with a more cynical viewpoint that the others? perhaps because this was not an attempt at my favourable consideration. perhaps because this was more.

i know i shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, just in case i find things there that i do not like. a gift is a gift, whatever the intention. i should take it as that and be grateful for the things that are given. sigh. it's easier to be grateful when the things are less materialistic, and comes with less attachments. a simple hand-drawn card, a sweet text message, a voice of concern when you need it, a hug from a friend......these things touch me more.

somewhere in my closet, i have a bag. beautiful as it may be, i am reluctant to look at it.

i wish i am less of an idiot.

facebook is the place where we can get all excited about finding friends that we have lost for many decades, names that we can barely remember and faces that have changed so much since we last laid eyes. it's really an invention that should win the praise of millions, just like steve jobs, only nobody is ever grateful for things that are still around. there is also the fact that millions of manpower hours are lost on cooking food we will never get to eat, farm produces that are only virtual and will never help the world poverty and poking people for no apparent reason than to remind others that we are still alive. those annoying parts perhaps we do not need.

through facebook, i've found many old friends, and many old friends have found me. people that have coursed through my mind on and off over the last few decades, i am finally able to look at their family photos, their vacation pix and know how they are faring now. it's like being able to scratch an itch somewhere deep inside, a peek at the pages that come after the 'happily ever after'. however, after the initial euphoria has died, you slowly realise, wonderful as it may be to finally see your best friends when you were in school, interesting as it may be to see how some of them have changed, that these people are actually strangers to you now. you may remember all too clearly some of the conversations that took place then, but it is no longer the same person that you befriended again on facebook. the little boy with the sweetest smile who had a crush on you for the longest time is now cold and distant after an unhappy divorce. the little girl whom you spent every school hour side by side with is a pleasant and sweet acquaintance at best. the friendships that you have lost to time, it is lost forever. if you turn back to look, nothing stands in place. only emptiness, a memory of what had been and a smile in reminiscent.

a few days ago, i had lunch with someone from the distant early chapters of my life, someone i knew since i was 11 years old but rarely had much contact in between. i started by asking him a very simple question, which seemed to have confounded him; perhaps he was reading too much into it. does he know me at all? undoubtedly we have all changed over the years, and he does not know me now, but did he know me then? a strange question perhaps.

i tried to remember if i knew him then. faint memories fluttered by. guitar strumming melodies that i did not hear. long calls that lasted into the night. letters that have evaporated with time. laughters and voices. the cheekiest and brightest grin. i looked up from across the table and the grin was still there. those were the past but did i really know him? his principles, his values, his desires and his ideas? i shake my head a little, as if to clear up the cobwebs and dislodge memories tucked in some corner of the brain. i didn't know much of him, but i knew him. he was a nice guy. he is still a nice guy. someone with the correct values and principles, whatever they be. someone whom you can rely on and talk to. someone who is a friend.

apparently, people from thailand eat bugs. cicadas, crickets, cockroaches, beetles, bamboo worms, silk worms and ant eggs. they fry them crispy and brittle and they are just like your favourite crisps or pretzel. goes wonderfully with beer.

well, we all kind of knew that. so, that's nothing new. but what i wonder is whether thai people really buy bugs from their neighbourhood market every week and eat them as part of their healthy wholesome diet everyday, or is this some huge gimmick to attract gullible tourists. for all you know, each time you buy one pound of those stuff, they are laughing so hard inside that they want to roll on the floor whilst pointing at you, and saying 'you guys really fell for that?'

i have some friends from thailand, and frankly speaking, when they visit i really don't see them salivate whenever a cockroach run past or hear the sound of crickets at night. i have also never seen them put anything that resembles such matter in their mouth. so, when you say thais eat cockroaches and crickets, how many percent of the population are you really talking about? 0.01? 0.00001? and how often are they eating it? whenever the blue moon pops up? i want hard convincing data. not that i'm going to pop one of those things in my mouth anytime soon. there's a reason they are known as pests. they are not your everyday poultries and sea products.

i put this theory to my cousin when she told me about thais eating these stuffs and she looked at me as if i was some crazy delusional maniac. but really, do most of the thais eat this everyday as part of their meal?

i'm gullible, but not that gullible.