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Archive for the ‘Write On’ Category

Better Than Chocolate?

Since as far as November 2008, I have been meaning and trying to pen a tribute to my pediatrician. I mean, my kids’ pediatrician, of course. A tribute for, well… obviously taking a great care of my children when I needed him periodically and pediatrically. I have been trying to find words and ways to say how thankful and grateful I am. But every time I read my own words and ways of saying them… I keep thinking of analogies to describe the tribute.

It’s like trying to make a good cup of cocoa but end up with that crunchy-nut-in-the-middle Perugina Baci or better yet, Godiva and Bernard Callebaut chocolates melted together. And it’s like trying to make a simple crepe but end up with a Belgian Waffle with strawberries and honey on top. Forget sugar! This is HONEY we’re talking about. And oh, that waffle has got to be eaten on a cool Sunday morning on that little balcony facing the Heaven’s Gates of La Rochelle. Has got to!

And it’s like stuffing a little box with a nice little Shikisyi Edo handkerchief but end up with the best Muga silk duvet wrapping around you… like your wedding saree.

Oh I so need a chocolate. I mean, coffee. Sorry!
(Tea? What tea?) Ahhh… my cup runneth over.

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Unwritefully Yours

I know I should just go to bed.

Things went perfectly well with the monchies tonight. Fed them the homemade non-piccante Green Curry Beef dinner earlier than usual. Got them home from the playground right in time for the 15 minutes get-ready-for-bed rituals. Had the ‘Once Upon A Time There Was A…’ bedtime story told by 2045. They were cosily tucked in and in Lulla Land by 2100, and voila! The day was done. Yes, Sunday is an ON day for the wicked moms. Supposedly.

But I went downstairs instead. Made myself some Earl Grey and grabbed a sooshka instead. I was supposed to pay my debt to Elizabeth Gilbert of her Eat Pray Love – 3 pages installment per night tonight, like every night. But I paid 15 instead. (There is this rule I have been governing myself with. For almost 20 years now. The rule says: I shall read at least 3 pages of anything per day, if not night. Thus those books or magazines you see in almost all my WC’s in my house, car-door or seat pockets, night tables in all rooms, on one corner on all benches, in the closets, kitchen and all under-sink cabinets.)

I promised myself to write The Silent Reader a reply email which I started 3 nights ago but stopped. I re-started it tonight. But I re-stopped instead. I wrote so long, felt so much… that in the end I found myself back in the middle of the beginning of what I had written so long and felt so much about. Words, like they have been the past weeks, seemed to turn to tears and tears turned to blood when I wrote them. I was bleeding when I thought I was merely weeping.

I don’t know now if I am telling you the truth by lying. Or if I am awake by sleeping. I only know that I am dying by living. Or maybe the other way around, instead. So angels, I am unwriting this right before your eyes. Or are they mine instead?

I should have just gone to bed. Or eaten the sooshka, prayed for a goodnight sleep and loved Enida after that 15 pages of Eat Pray Love. Instead…

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Adagio

There is this 365-Calendar thing on my night table now. It is the ‘365 Ways To Say I Love You Calendar’ that I bought for my husband couple years ago – but he never really looked at it. He was never there to look at it anyway. I happened to find it today as I was clearing the dresser. For May 15th, it says: ‘Put a tribute to him on the website.’

So Babe, this Adagio is for you… however long it may take you to find these words of mine. True to the meaning of the song and the word adagio, so have I been to this thing many call love. I don’t call it anything anymore. I just live it. The way I have.

Please click PLAY on my MixPod.

Adagio

I don’t know where to find you
I don’t know how to reach you
I hear your voice in the wind
I feel you under my skin
Within my heart and my soul
I wait for you
Adagio

All of these nights without you
All of my dreams surround you
I see and I touch your face
I fall into your embrace
When the time is right I know
You’ll be in my arms
Adagio

I close my eyes and I find a way
No need for me to pray
I’ve walked so far
I’ve fought so hard
Nothing more to explain
I know all that remains
Is a piano that plays

If you know where to find me
If you know how to reach me
Before this light fades away
Before I run out of my faith
Be the only man to say
That you’ll hear my heart
That you’ll give your life
Forever you’ll stay

Don’t let this light fade away
No no no no no
Don’t let me run out of faith
Be the only man to say
That you believe
Make me believe
You won’t let go
Adagio

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Made To Be

If I were a mistake
waiting to be made
I would surely wait
wanting to be
none but me.

So make mistake
and make my day.

You made mine.

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Stuck On You

I told you to be still. I told you I am all right. Things can go Vladivostok-ishly wrong and I am as all right as all left can be. So let’s move on to bigger and better things while I deal with my love and life, while I learn my lessons or teach one or two to those who might have to learn sooner than later.

So my angels took aflight on April 15 to the city of SIN where their sinful mommy’s bestfriend dwells (yes both Mommy and her bestfriend are sinfully sinful when they want to be). It was supposed to be an uneventful flight. Until this boy decided to explore what he could do with his hands. Yeah, already!

The first 20 minutes after taking off was a bliss and I was sure the next 35 minutes was going to evaporate on me before I could say ‘Singapore Zoo!’ or ‘Night Safari!’ Well, be still.

You know those cabin table-top thing you put your food on or you write on? You know the space where you hide or stow the top away? Edrick just HAD to see if his arm would fit in the space. I don’t know to this day at what degree of an angle that he did it, but he managed to stick his elbow and the whole forearm just nicely in the stowaway compartment for the table-top! His arm was in every meaning of stuck, STUCK!

I, with the other two cabin crew, spent the next what felt like 20 minutes trying to get Edrick’s arm out of the stowaway compartment! It felt so long that I didn’t know whether we were coming or going. While Edrick, being that easily freaked-out boy… naturally freaked out like there was no tomorrow! Nah, nyaman rasa! Edrick was so traumatized with the whole ‘stuck’ experience on that short flight to Sin City that he never let anyone take his table-top out again after. He held on to his cup of water until he fell asleep holding it.

Our flight to Domodedovo Airport from Changi was another story worth posting another entry for. For now, let me fly to and with my Alsace and think what I can do with my hands.

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“When we’re little, most of us assume our parents are good at the job. Unless they’re really dreadful, it doesn’t occur to us that they don’t always know what they’re doing. As we got older, we notice that our friends’ parents do things a bit differently. Maybe we’re envious, maybe we think we’re the lucky ones. Probably a bit of both. As we get older still, it may start to dawn on us that our parents are getting some bits really wrong.

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That’s what happened to me. Quite early on I realized that my father was seriously bucking the trend by not actually being there at all. Before long I realized that my mother was in very different ways similarly hopeless, and she struggled to cope or to show any affection to us.

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Now, in my case, things were sufficiently bad that I had to face up to them. Either I spent my life bitterly blaming my parents for all my problems, or I moved on. I chose to recognize that my mother was just not even slightly cut out to be a parent, and that for someone like her, being a single parent to six children was too big a task. If I were airlifted into another life where I was required to manage a football team, or an oil rig, or a classroom full of 30 troubled kids, I would perform similarly badly. All of us have things we just can’t do. Maybe my mother only realized too late that being a parent wasn’t her thing.

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So I forgave her, and got on with my life. It saved me from becoming bitter and twisted, and it enabled me to put right the damage in a positive frame of mind. If you really feel that someone has ruined the first 20 years of your life, the only sensible thing to do is to make sure they don’t ruin the next 50 or so as well.

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Funnily enough, it’s often the people with the best parents who find it hardest to stop blaming them from the odd shortcoming. If your parents are basically pretty good at the job, it’s somehow tempting to blame them for not being absolutely perfect. But why should they be perfect? And, indeed, how can anyone be expected not to put a foot wrong in 18 years?

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Your parents are only human, and it’s very likely that somewhere along the way they did a few things that caused you real upset or difficulties. That’s what happens when people with no training spend 18 years in the job. The odd thing goes wrong. They were only doing their best, and they couldn’t help it. But you can help it: you can choose to stop blaming them and to forgive them. In fact, what’s even to forgive? They weren’t getting it wrong on purpose, they just made a few mistakes.

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It’s too late to put things right by blaming your parents. But it’s not too late to let it go, recognize that their hearts were in the right place, and quietly sort out any residual damage yourself.”

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How can anyone be expected
not to put a foot wrong in 18 years?

Rule 74
Richard Templar
The Rules of Love

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Oh Bother!

Oh Tuhanku mengapakah manusia begitu?

regret

 

Bagai disayat-sayat rasanya hati bila mengenang cakap-cakap orang yang tak kenal pun siapa saya in real life. Yes, I write my mind to free my caged thoughts – not to please readers who don’t even understand what they read.

 

If I am that goodfornothingbottomdwellerscumbag you loathe so much, why are you so bothered by what I write? Or is it your incapacitated mind you are so stressed out about and you wish no one had noticed? Innocence is not something you defend when not threatened. Over-defensiveness is a sign of concealed guilt.

 

Oh you poor fish you!

 

 

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Three You Are!

Hey ya Daddy,
It’s MY birthday today. I didn’t realize it was going to be a special day because Mommy got up late like she did yesterday. She must have gone to bed late again (the other night she had to cook a second supper for guests that arrived later than MY bedtime!). I tried not to storm into her room this morning, so I went downstairs and bugged Bibik instead.

When I opened the fridge to get some ideas on what to eat for breakfast (I usually know what I want now and I make sure I say ‘please’ to Bibik when I ask for my choice breakfast), I saw some marinated fish Mommy must’ve prepared the night before. Just before Mommy took me to the barber for my haircut later this morning, the fishy but yummy smell from the oven had filled the whole house.

I don’t really want to talk about my haircut, Daddy. I didn’t enjoy it one little bit! I kept on saying, “All done! All done!” right from the start to the end – it took the barber ten minutes to make me handsome again. It took Mommy all her talent to calm me down, but that ten minutes sure felt like ten slow hours! I didn’t enjoy the haircut one little bit, but I sure do like the way I look now. Life is not fair!

After the haircut, Mommy drove us (Kitreena and Uncle Flick came with) to a secret place. She was whispering all the time to my sister, and I didn’t really give a care because Mom and Kakak always do that. Must be the girls thing – secret this, secret that! But when Mommy came out from that secret place with two red boxes in a big red paper bag, I knew she didn’t just get the secret recipes. She got the Secret Recipe Cakes! Then, I remembered it was my birthday – after all, Mommy made me sing the famous Happy Birthday song when I was on the barber chair to distract me. She even made me imagine counting and blowing the candles. The thoughts of my birthday really got me through the trying and difficult time (such as during the ten minute haircut!)

I was so extremely excited when I saw the Vienna Brownie and the Banana Chocolate cake that I fell asleep on the way home! But of course the birthday lunch could not start without the birthday boy. That’s me me me! So Mom woke me up. We were joined by Grandma, Atok, Aunty Reen, Uncle Shahril and both my cousins – Afiq and Mariessa. Uncle Lam and Uncle Flick were there too. I have a list of wishes today, Daddy. But the top few hundreds are the wishes that could only come true if you were here. I hope you will give me a phone call tonight so I can tell you what I can remember from today.

Lunch was followed by the cake ‘ceremony’, of course. It was neat to see that I didn’t get three candles on my cake. There was only one candle in the shape of the number 3. But for some reason it took me one to two good minutes to blow just one candle! You will have to watch the video clip from Mom’s camera to know what I am talking about, Dad. It was awesome, nevertheless, that I also got to cut the cake myself this year. I am pretty sure I get to do so much more next year!

Oh Dad, thank you for the card and the present! I love those numbers and I am now learning to count and match the pictures with the correct numbers. I got two birthday presents this year – the one from you, Mom and Kitreena (the numbers), and a set of play dough from Bibik. Thank you Daddy, Mommy, Kakak. Thank you Bibik.

So, the day went really well despite me thinking about you most of the time. Mommy thought it would have been really nice if you were around because you take better pictures than she does. Kakak was just busy eating, playing with Afiq and helping me open the gift, she forgot all about HER camera. Duh!

And oh, another thing…I overheard Mommy telling Kakak today about us moving to Moscow. Is that true Daddy? Do we get to be in the same house again? And it sounds like we are going to speak Russian with each other. Kakak thought we were going to change our citizenship and we were going to be in Russia forever. How many years is forever, Daddy? Because I don’t believe it when Kakak said it’s going to be a long long long long long time. Did Kakak just make that up?

Okay, I’d better go and enjoy the rest of my special-but-would-be-more-special-with-you day. I hope you enjoy looking at these pictures – although I know you enjoy ‘taking’ more than looking at pictures. Maybe my birthday next year when we are in Moscow, eh. Mmm…I imagine my cake would not say ‘Happy Birthday’. It will have something that says С ДНЁМ РОЖДЕНИЯ or something.

By the way, I saved some cakes, nuggets, corn-on-the-cobs and hugs for you, Dad. Mom said I can tuck them under the Christmas tree. Spasiba Mommy!

Your Russian Roulette Son,
Edrick

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Hush Crush

Ka Cher and I were talking about you at the HUKM Cafe Bacteria [spelled: Bestaceria – thanks to Lil Sis’ deciphermentability] when it suddenly occured to me that what I have is probably just a crush. But then, isn’t crush only for the young and the restless? I mean, we are no teenagers. Neither we are old-timers. Hello life! And while I am pretty content and contented, at times I can be just as restless as you are. For all you know, restlessness is seasonal. Is it not?

Oh hush! Even if it is just a crush…hurry hurry lover come to me! I can be restlessly devoted to the thoughts of you. Muah! Wink wink. Yes, we were talking about you. Yeah, you.

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Un-Less

I sing the song unsung
I read the word unwritten
I sail the ship unsunk
I travel the road untaken

I cry the tears unshed
I lead the life unled.

Unlove me !

June 8th, 1998.
UKM Bangi.

Found this old poem I wrote ten years ago right after I met Be for the first time. Love was in the air even then. But I turned and ran away, not wanting to breathe it. I was afraid.

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Tonight, I am waiting to exhale.

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