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Archive for the ‘Write On’ Category

“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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When Skies Are Gray

I woke up yesterday morning immediately jumping out of bed and leaping into the kids’ room. Kitreena greeted my “Good morning, Sunshine!” back with a puzzled look and a question: “Mom, why are you still wearing that old pyjamas? It has holes sudah on it. Is it because you like this pyjamas so much?” There she went again, answering her question on my behalf.

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“Of course,” I was going to answer her simply. But I went on saying, “Just because it’s old does not mean I have to get a new one. I love this pyjamas. I won’t grow out of it anymore anyway. I am done growing. By the way, I do like the holes. They make my armpits breathe easily when I sleep.”

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Kitreena chuckled. And just before she disappeared into the bathroom, she looked at me and said, “Mom, your face is still beautiful, you know.”

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I didn’t see the connection between my face and my old pyjamas. But I don’t think my daughter is going to get a new mom just because her old mom has holes in her heart.

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The skies were gray and it rained almost the whole day yesterday, but I knew my hole-y heart will have its sunshine for a lifetime.

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Sei Laa You!

I said this once, and I am going to say it one more time.

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I don’t read FW emails.

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Except for those between my hubby and his lawyer. So, if you are not my hubby or his lawyer…don’t even bother sending me FW emails. They go straight to my Deleted Items folder. When I am looking for specific information, I will personally look for it when I need it. I know how to use those search engines, thank you very much. Gerhana bulan ke, gerhana matahari ke, gerhana dalam jiwaku ke, total eclipse of the heart ke. You don’t have to bersusah-payah looking for it on my behalf.

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If I (ever) want to look at charred bodies ditemui mati ketika mencuri kinda pictures, I trust Google Malaysia must have loads. So, toksah lah menyusahkan diri spending your time on your slow server sending them to me. I am not interested in giving more glory to those charred bodies yang ditemui mati ketika mencuri or meragut or whatever they enjoyed doing when they were people…not just bodies.

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And if you believe in justifications made by some pihak who think they have the power to decide what’s halal and what’s not halal, keep that belief to yourself. Mountain Dew tak boleh minum lah, Brahim’s Rendang tak halal lah, Farmland chicken sausages ada pork lah. You think your sawi you put in the meehoon goreng berbuka yesterday contained no baja taik babi kah? Haiiyaahh! You think the coffee and tea you drink got only halal baja in it ah? Kalau nak kaji sampai ke akar umbi…well, I betcha, you might want to think twice before you touch your sabun mandi.

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The bottom line is, I don’t read FW emails especially those with information I don’t need. I decide on what I do with my emails and my time reading or deleting them. Now that YOU know I don’t value your time sending them to me, stuff them somewhere else. Hopefully I won’t see your pictures as charred bodies ditemui mati ketika sibuk memFW emails yang tak de kena mengena dengan dirinya sendiri mahupun dengan the people the emails being forwarded to.

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And please, don’t ever think about FWding those autopsy pictures my way. I just deleted two in my inbox today. What sick people! My prayers and respect are just too great to even feel curious. I don’t want to see how inhuman a human can be. It’s hideous enough hearing what happened, let alone be haunted by the gruesome images. A crime is a crime. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, so don’t make me wish it on you.

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Berjalan Di Hutan Cemara

Berjalan di hutan cemara
langkahku terasa kecil dan lelah
makin dalam lagi ku ditelan fatamorgana
tebing tanah basah di pinggir jalan setapak
seperti garis wajahMu, teduh dan kasih
makin dalam lagi ku dicekam kerinduan

Kabut putih melintas di jalanku
jarak pandangku dua langkah ke depan
ada seberkas cahaya menembus rimbun dedaunan
sanggupkah menerangi jalanku
dan aku berharap kapankah kiranya
sampai di puncak sana
aku kan bertanya siapakah diriku
aku kan bertanya siapakah Kamu
aku kan bertanya siapakah mereka
aku kan bertanya siapakah kita

Abiet G Ade

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I was just thinking today about the doors I closed not knowing why I opened them in the first place.

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Error Asia

Would it surprise you to see a woman hauling her 32-week / 8-month size pregnant tummy at an airport if you saw one? I mean here lah, in Malaysia tanahair kucintaik. I am not talking about Pearson Airport. I did haul my 33-week size pregnant tummy there in 2002. Nobody cared, let alone looked surprised. Well, let me nyenyenye about what happened to me at KLIA and BKI Airport recently.

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A couple weeks ago, I went Cuti-Cuti Malaysia in Kota Kinabalu, where I was born. For about a week. Yepper! Hauling my 32-week prego tummy and the whole cargo, armed with Dr Ravi Chandran’s precious Fit-To-Travel (FTT) certificate/letter. At the check-in counter, I wasn’t asked for it. So okaylah. Air Canada pun, when I flew Calgary-Toronto-Calgary in 2002 didn’t bother. Maybe Malaysia was as lax, I thought. We proceeded to the boarding hall with the kangkong style of lenggang indeed.

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Lo-chia and behold, Cik Kak Asiah at the boarding gate…upon seeing my protruding cargo, stopped me and asked for the fit-to-travel cert. I handed it out to her feeling so relieved that I ‘came prepared’. Hmmm…if the story ended there ah, I wouldn’t bother nyenyenye about it today lah kan. Being the employee of the month as she probably would be, Cik Kak Asiah read the FTT certificate like she was going to memorize every single word and number, and take an exam on it.

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How much do you want to bet that she would find a fault? True enough! There was one. The date of the FTT. I was flying on October 29th and the FTT was dated 11 days prior to that day. Cik Kak Asiah dengan penuh dedikasi dan taat setia to the policy gave me the… “It’s in the policy that you have to have a certificate dated within a week or seven days prior to flying, Ma’am. We are sorry, we cannot have you on board.”

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Sorry seemed to be the hardest word for me to swallow that day.

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So I asked her what my options were. There was no way I could ask Dr Ravi to fax me a new certificate as he was also on leave until the day I was supposed to come back to KL. Would Air Asia reimburse us on all the tickets – mine, Be’s and Kitreena’s? Ha ha ha, that would be a joke! Anyway, Cik Kak Asiah asked me (politely) to just have a seat nearby while she ran around like a ladylike Chicken Little trying to solve the sky-is-falling problem we had.

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Cik Kak Asiah – if you haven’t already assumed it by now…is not her real name – had been very courteous for that 15-20 minutes dealing with our issue. Until! I was standing less than 2 feet away from her when I heard her exact words, “…Tapi perut dia memang besar lah!” speaking to a colleague on the walkie-talkie. Hah? Hey! That was NOT very professional of her to say that when I was standing right next to her desk. So what if my tummy was like the largest Wok With Yan‘s wok ever? Her ketidakprofesionalisma begitu menusuk bukan saja ke jantung kalbu, malah ke tali perut dan uri aka placenta ku! Cisss! Cakap siang pandang-pandang Cik Kak Asiah oi.

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Unimpressed, to say the least, I asked her to show me where in the policy that says that the letter had to be dated within 7 days. I remembered very clearly reading it and I very luckily printed it out and had it in my very right hand at that very moment. So, there was no way she could out-smart me, cross me, double-cross me or cross me out. (There! The difference between being smart and looking smart, ladies and gentlemen!)

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Cik Kak Asiah then gave me a very confident “Oh yes it is in the policy, I just know it,” statement and was going to approach the pilot to see if he would let me fly. Fine! I wasn’t going to crawfish out. Na’ah! Not after hearing her unprofessional words and knowing that she was bluffing me with the ‘oh yes it is in the policy’ bs. Sorry selorry. And in the meantime, Be was ready to blow a fuse over the whole thing and because Kitreena wasn’t in her best behavior either. Me? Patience? Oh, if you asked me 32 weeks ago…I might have had it.

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Just as the passengers started boarding like kambing terlepas kandang sembelih, a senior Cik Puan Kak Asiah came with an indemnity form and some apologies for me. She verified that the pilot had no problem having me on board as I was under 36 weeks prego. And that it was not true that I had to present an FTT Cert dated within a week of flying. She, however, did suggest that I should get a post-dated FTT for my return flight on November 5th -“to make things easier”. Hmmm, ok, whatever. Time to roll my eyes, and keep ’em rollin’!

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I did get a post-dated FTT for my return flight, actually. Thanks to Muzi, Dr. Ravi’s secretary. And guess what happened to me on November 5th, on the way back?

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A longer nyenyenye story.

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