with you

when was the last time my mother brought me to the hair salon? i haven't the faintest recollection. when did i start going to hair salon on my own, telling the stylist how i wanted my hair done on my own. looking back it seems strange that i made the transition from going to the salon with my mum to by myself without even realising it, and now not even being able to remember no matter how hard i try. was it when i came back from singapore? when i was in secondary school? or when i went into college? i can't even seem to remember where my mother brought me to cut my hair when i was little. now that i am starting my journey of many 'last's, i wonder as i am sitting on the salon's swivel chair with my daughter on hers next to mine, and she going off to university very soon, when will be the last time i bring her to a salon. will it pass by without me noticing it once again? will it happen without much fanfare and notice, as with all things so inconsequential such as this? with the passing of all memories so small and sweet like this, every day things that many take for granted, sitting quietly beside each other without a word, comfortable with each other's company, time moves on no matter how we fumble and grasp at the trickling of its passing, only looking back once in a while with longing and nostalgia

insulted by a F

signing off on the year end accounts today. i just began to notice that there is a capital F behind my name, in brackets. uh...why? since i don't think i failed in my role as a director of the company, yet, i can only assume that the F must mean that this particular person by the name so and so (yes, that is my name, Ms So And So) is of the female gender. again, why? there isn't any M behind the other director, who is a male, so why this gender bias? i assume this means that by default it is a he, unless otherwise specified. have you heard of anything so prejudicial? on so many levels!

first (i can't even choose which is my first point of peeve), why does the gender of the director even matter in the financial statements? if 'she' signs, please take it with a pinch of salt? or are we so few and rare that every effort must be made to identify those rare specie and protect them? nobody has given me special treats, air-conditioned rooms and specially-grown bamboo so i don't feel very protected at all. i feel alienated and targeted for some strange reason that i have not been informed of.

secondly, the default is male. why? if there is a F behind the woman's name, shouldn't there be a M behind the man's? i do understand that the working society is predominantly male and there is more chance of hitting a male director than a female if you were to throw a rock in the city center, but if you deem it necessary to highlight the gender you should do it for both. our identity cards carry the gender of both male and female, they don't just state if you are a female and omit if you are a male. by being silent for the male gender, one is saying the default is male unless otherwise specified. i feel like i am carrying some kind of sign behind my name to advertise that i am carrying some highly contagious deadly disease. if i ever find out who is behind this great new law and i get to have the wonderful opportunity of meeting up with him (i can only assume that someone who came up with such a ridiculous idea must be a he, as with all the stupid prejudiced remarks that have been uttered by our nation's ministers and law-makers), he will never hear the end of my grumbles.

what is our country coming to? secretly, quietly, all these crazy people with prejudiced and unbalanced mentality are changing our world in the most perverse ways. people who think that it is alright to ask women to wear longer skirts or pants, to stay a metre away from the nearest male specie, who deem it alright for rapists to marry their victims....the stupidness is endless. i think our country can very well try for a record in the guinness book very soon.

do i know you?

i received 2 wedding invitations this week. bombs, they call it. i get faintly annoyed when i receive wedding invitations from people that i am not close with, not to mention those that i hardly know, as i am sure most people do. when someone you know well finds their other half, you feel happy for them and are grateful they have found someone to spend the rest of their lives with. but for people whose last names you don't even know, it is a little difficult to muster that type of passion for random strangers. it is pretty obvious that their intention is to rake in a little bit more income to finance the wedding and honeymoon and i scoff at such blatant display of motive. ha! there, i scoffed, but still, i understand them and accordingly, i send my best wishes in the form of cash.

however, it gets a little ridiculous when i don't know the names on the wedding invitation. the invitations somehow manage to find their way into my hands, sometimes a little mysteriously and it bears no name of the sender. the clue is in the name of the bride, bridegroom or the parents and perhaps i am suppose to solve it nancy drew style. oh no! that reference shows the age of this writer. i should make the comparison to sherlock, ie the benedict cumberbatch one and not sir arthur, which would have been even more ancient. anyway, like a fool, i had to go around asking people do i know so and so (father), or so and so (bride), or so and so (bridgegroom), like a dementia patient unsure of who and what they are supposed to know. the yardstick perhaps should be that if i would not recognise any of the names on the wedding invitation, it is not appropriate to send one to me?

'tis the season

how was your chinese new year? i seem to be getting that question a lot recently. is it just a customary way of extending greeting, or can they perhaps sense a little difference from within me? a little more detached, a little less mirthful, a lot more stressed.

as we grow older, the festive season is no longer about getting together with your closest relatives, laughing and giggling, receiving red packets, eating delicious food and wearing pretty clothes. it seems to be an endless list of chores, one after another, check boxes to tick before the 15 days of the lunar new year is over. in fact, the seemingly endless things to do starts before the end of the year, stretching all the way until the 15 days of the lunar new year is up. one duty after another, stacked up on ends into one high tottering tower of tension. today is the 5th day, and i still have more than a handful of things sitting prettily on the list.

meeting old friends and busy relatives should have been gratifying but everybody wants to talk, nobody wants to listen. the little games they played should have been fun but they were all so engrossed with materialism. the rich aunty who was not satisfied with a RM200 lucky draw. the guards and cleaners who rotated work station every 15 minutes so that they can get more red packets. the captain whose service was unabashedly motivated by a red packet. where does the spirit of the chinese new year fit into all these?

but isn't it the same every year? this endless list of customary things to do. this eternal greed. this shallowness. this isn't the first year, and barring any unfortunate events happening to me for the next 365 days, this will not be the last year. why is this the new year of discontent? why does the ugliness that escaped the pandora's box seem especially glaring to me and ruffles my feathers so? even as i sit on my wicker chair, swinging right and left, with the chirping of the birds and the din of the traffic intertwined, i don't have the answer to my questions still. perhaps this is what i needed. an escape. a sanctuary to hide for a little while and immerse in my thoughts, a shelter to introspect and reinvigorate, away from everybody, away from all the demands and expectation. perhaps i am weary.

chinese new year wasn't all bad. there were the friends who showed sincerity and enthusiasm. the sweet man who bought lunch because it was his first time meeting me. the nice couple who was heartfelt. the old friend who was modest. the relatives who came from afar to say hello once a year. the husband's friend who tried to make me feel less awkward. the dear friend who wished me better late than never. the kindest in-laws. and the lovely friend who asked me how my chinese new year was.

ghost

sometimes i forget the beauty of life. like right now. i can't see beyond the ugliness enveloping me. i try to live my life so diligently every day, so hard, so sincerely. one cannot control how others act or how others think but i live to satisfy my conscience, at the very least. to be there for everybody as much as i physically possibly could, to fulfil my duties in the various roles of my life, to love and to listen.

but nobody sees it. even worse, nobody feels it. i stop, i stand in bewilderment, i falter in a daze. i am lost. then why do i live my life so onerously, i ask myself. why do i take the hard road? when none seems to appreciate. when none acknowledges. if i am giving and no one is receiving, what am i doing? if i love but someone doesn't feel it, what was i feeling? what does that make my life? what does that make me?

why

i don't get it. i thought as you grow older, you grow wiser. you understand things. but i don't understand how some can blatantly lie, or rather tell the opposite of a truth, right in your face. at the dinner table. both times, different people. are dinners cursed? or is it normal for families to tell lies and i am the naive idealistic one?

the lies are not of paramount importance, which makes it even more confounding. i get lies to cover up lies. i get lies to hide some important facts. i get beautiful white lies to let others feel better. but lies that nobody gives a damn about.....why? and families at that. why? why say you don't know, when you very well know. why say you didn't, when you did. it wasn't like either of the answers had any consequence. if they lied so that i will not know the real them, then who are those that i know of as my family? who and what lies inside the physical embodiment of those i know as family?

if i can't even believe the words that come out from family, whose words can i believe in? if i can't even trust family, who can i trust? what is my life without belief and trust?

sometimes i believe that this world was never meant for me.

exhaustion

some days i'm so tired from what life throws at me. sometimes i can struggle on and i work late into the night, even after a full day of running around and pleasing everybody, because the pile of work will still be there waiting for me come what may. i have to care for the one that was thrusted into my life, i have to care for the one who is on summer holiday, i have to deal with a string of things going wrong in the house, i have to care for my mother in pain, and then my ailing father, i have to cook for a household of 12, i have to make sure others have their meals, i have to deliver my end of the work for the office, i have more on my plate than anyone can sanely juggle.

other days i'm so exhausted that i can barely hold my eyelids open. i thought i could do no more, that i am on the brink of collapse. i thought that i could take in no more, i have done all that i could with my two hands and super-woman capability. i thought that i will go berserk if i have to juggle more. but life throws a fast ball and i am left with little choice but to struggle on and do more.

i'm tired to the bones. i'm exhausted. i''m stressed to the max. but i'm grateful that i can be there for her. i am thankful i am given the chance to love her and care for her, to show her that she means the world to me. sometimes i am frustrated, because she is frustrated, and she in turn takes out her frustration on me. but i know i'm just tired.

i'm tired because those around me are falling down one by one and i only have one pair of hands to catch. i feel like the energizer rabbit who is running low on power. i'm babbling. i'm drifting. i'm too tired to think.

a fleck of dust

they think that i must be nurturing and loving; that to take care and to provide is in the innermost core of my being, my basic instinct; because i am a woman. they do not see how much of a struggle it is for me every day. i struggle to be what i am expected to be, to go against the wilful carefree soul that is dreaming at an open podium or park, savouring the cool windy breeze that is caressing my face and tugging at my hair, enjoying the company of my own thoughts. answering to no one, answering for no one. i remember when i was 12, doing exactly that. alone by myself, with no one to keep me company and no one to talk to. i don't know if i have always been that way or if it started then. no one to take care of me and no one for me to take care of. nature or nurture. i became me.

the years creep by and responsibilities silently piled on, without warning or reason, not taking no for an answer. i am now an adult. people see me as an adult. and they expect me to behave as an adult. to some extent i guess motherly instinct does kick in when you have younger ones. you do think about the how, when, what, where of their well being. even then, it is a struggle sometimes. you do not nag, you do not remind, you do not lecture, you do not profess to have wisdom to impart on the next generation. it is not you. you believe that people should make their own choices and live with their mistakes. you think to each his own. yet you live the live as a mother. you strain your throat to articulate reminders and annoying communication, because it is your duty. because it is expected of you.

however, it is not an all-encompassing love. you do not have a sudden desire to feed all the children in the world or educate the next generation. you do not suddenly become a saint overnight. yet, without so much as a word of warning, or a question whether it is alright, i am suddenly thrusted with not one, not two but three pieces of baggages. the scream is stuck in my throat so hard that it makes me gag sometimes. that others have the right to trespass into your life, your lifestyle and you have no say in the matter. that your feelings have an even smaller play in the situation. that another did not want to spend their time educating, nurturing, accompanying and providing for their own, and so i now must, and my own will is irrelevant. the injustice, the infringement, the inconsideration.

i have no one standing beside me. no one that speaks for me. no one that considered about me. it makes me feel more insignificant than a fleck of dust in the massive cosmic space. perhaps even worse are the flimsy excuses and justifications; you don't have to do this for them or you don't have to do that for them. i cringe and i bite my tongue. i wouldn't if i don't have the baggages in the first place. but i do because you thought it was alright to pass them on to me. justifications, who doesn't have them.

thus is life. we don't ever live our lives the way we want to.

missing a page that was

i'm feeling very nostalgic today. took a very long walk down memory lane, until my calves are tired and my emotions whimsical. a book written so wonderfully, the words jump out of the pages and fondle your senses; it was what started me on this reminiscence. i remember someone who wrote so beautifully, someone who said that he wanted to use words to accurately capture and portray what a picture could, someone who could use the evolved symbols of our language system to paint emotions, situations, descriptions, location; just like an artist with his brush. i miss that so much. i miss reading the beautiful words of a writer, so vividly expressed that it touches. i miss the old blogger group too. i don't quite miss the scrutinising eyes of random strangers or the judgemental views of people who doesn't know or care on the pages of my life, but i miss the interaction, the lively banter, the laughter and the camaraderie. i miss the introspection.

i logged into facebook with my blogger profile and peeked into what everybody was doing. there are little changes in everybody's life; change is the only constant in the universe. even though we do not interact anymore in the blogosphere, as that world is so passe, but it makes my day to see everybody happy and healthy. she has moved on to other careers, he did not get the little patter of small feet that he was so looking forward to :(, the old one is still learning, still keeping up with trends, they wished my cobwebbed page happy birthday, she has deleted her account, he is still talking cock, her two kids are so big now, he has unfriended me (for goodness knows what reason!!!) and some i can no longer remember their blog or their avatar. the only congruity it will seem is that none of them blog anymore. i guess it is a given, after 10 years, that everybody has moved on, to try newer things, to go on with their lives, to do something different. only i remain, solitary, in this infinite colossal impalpable world, with my own thoughts, as it should be, introspective. i am reminded of why i have continued writing, for whom i am writing, and my love for the written language. i am reminded that i am an introvert.

i scrolled through my blogs, re-reading old posts and publishing old drafts. with the passage of time, many posts that were once 'sensitive' lost the power to hurt and i am now comfortable with posting it for all to see. things that i have forgotten, stories and settings that have been dismissed from my mind, i read them again. the only witness to the flipping of the pages of my life and my journey.

the meaning is what you make of it

i hear it a lot: what is the meaning of life? many of us come to a crossroad in life where we ask ourselves, and others, the point of our existence. what is the reason we are put on this earth? i guess to ask that, to some degree one has to be a theist, to believe that there is a higher power that controls our very existence and that we did not just appear as a result of the right ingredients, the right condition, at the right time. or perhaps we are just very lost individuals, seeking for things to make sense in our very short time on earth, hoping that we are able to make a difference, no matter how small and hoping that the world will remember us in its infiniteness.

at 45, i have realised that there isn't any all-encompassing 'meaning' to life. what your life means is what you want it to mean, what you need it to mean; or in another word; how you want to live your life. if you are breathing and moving, you are probably already living your life and have part 1 of life101 down. i always hold the ideology that we make decisions base on what we are, who we are, so even given another life, without hindsight, we will make the same decisions in the same circumstances. so no point fretting. no point regretting. no more what ifs.

most, when pondering on this question, are looking for motivation to achieve greatness, or simply just something more than mediocrity and duldrum. they want to know if they are wasting their lives or whether they should be putting a little more effort. but by what yardstick can you measure one individual's life that is only uniquely theirs? for some, saving lives and finding the cure to cancer are things that they are destined to do, others touching the lives of others through their sincerity and love make a world of difference to those around them. to each his own. thus i do not believe that there is a general maxim by which to live your life. we discover what we want, what we are capable of, what we seek and we live it to the fullest, or not, depending on what brings meaning to you.

i do not believe that the motivation to fully live our lives come from analysing the meaning of life, or seeking for an external enlightenment. we are motivated by seeing, by listening, by empathising, by caring and loving, by living. with empathy, we choose to make a difference in the ways we can. and hence is the meaning of your life; to live it, to see, to hear, to empathise, to care and to love. consider yourself enlightened. go live your life.

this human is out of service

the doc said my emotions are affecting my kidneys ,which in turn affects the rest of my body, amongst some other tcm mumbo jumbo. sigh. what can i do? it's not like i have control over my feelings. i'm sad, and the rest of my body is feeling it too. can i shake the sadness out of my system like a little etch-a-sketch? can i erase and forget about it with an imaginary heart-board duster? do i continue to sulk and mope until my blue pity bag is full, then i chuck it into the nearest dumpster? i am aware that i have mood swings; days when it is a struggle to even maintain a smile, and days when i go about as normal. sometimes i walk around in a daze waiting for the frown to turn upside down. is it actually more physiological, rather than psychological? the body affects the mind? or the mind affects the body? maybe it is just hormonal imbalances. maybe it is just metabolism out of whack. nobody's life is perfect. nobody is exactly where they want to be, doing what they want to do. but life still goes on.