My name

I have tried not to tell many people about what I'm gonna tell you because I'm not vain like that. A little, but not too much. But here goes..

A few months ago, a good buddy decided to name his baby after me. Ok, probably it wasn't like naming her after me like I am famous or like I saved the world..or 'in honor' kinda sentiment, you know what I mean? Maybe the father just likes my name because it's easy to remember.

But I think I must have been a good person, or at least not a dislikable being, to have a baby named after me. (ok, I gotta stop saying this, cos for all I know, the father thinks anyone can be named that name, and the choice has nothing to do with my charming *cough* character.)

But really......if I were really an ugly *toot* you wouldn't want your child to bear the same name as me, would you? Like I wouldn't name my daughter Paris, right? Or Godzilla.

Funny that I didn't ask him why he chose my name. I just merely proclaimed "what an honor" and of course, "a great name, that is" followed by a non-cleavage bearing bow when he announced that hereinafter his baby and I shall bear a common name (one of my charming stunts *cough*). Hmm...or did he ask permission first? Hmmm......

Anyways, whenever he mentions my..her...our name, I get all toasty warmy inside. Like (in a gushy voice), "That's our name..hehehhehe."

So that's one thing off my bucket list - having someone named after me (sorry! It sounds so cool that I cannot not say it again and again!) Yay! Next, have a stretch of road (preferably 3.25 km long and in Tibet) named after me.

Also, a baby sharing a common but not entirely common name...gotta love her. ;)

P.s My name is NOT Earl. Lol.

I also want to line up..

I usually don't read THE STAR, STRAIT TIMES, THE SUN, THE MOON, SIN CHEW, TAMIL NESAN, etc. because I am too kiamsiap to buy them.

But I love reading when I pangsai ... have an affair with the si harng WC. Thus, I grab whatever reading materials available; CARREFOUR catalogue, IKEA catalogue and fantasise what I could buy. Sometimes I devour Reader's Digest but that also means that I stay indoor longer that I should. On rare occasions, I get old newspapers.

So this piece of news is out-dated, circa January 2008. But reading it makes my affair in the WC more pleasurable, if it's even possible. ;)

Ceritanyer macam nie.. There is a company in Big Apple forking out a few million dollahs to promote its product/website. Instead of placing advertisements on TV, they use the money to hand out to people who need the cash more.

They set up a booth smack right in the middle of the metropolitan with a sign, TELL US WHY YOU NEED SOME CASH (something like this. I cannot remember lah!) and of course their product/webpage/company name/logo. A bouncer (I suspect a Bengali) will listen to your sad story and relate it to the person inside the booth. Inside the booth, sits the charfityan, the god father who will decide if you get the 'dough', and how much.

"My mom is sick.." laments a man.

"USD150 for this man whose mom is sick!" hollers the bengali bouncer, after consulting the godfather.*

(*This is a friction of my imagination. It may and may not happened.)

As easy as that! Only can happen in Big Apple, right? I don't think the people will actually tipu to get in line. Berdosa tau.. ? (GG, Sinkar..don't attempt to line up)

But while on the 'throne', I also made up of list of 'why I need some money':
a. I got cheated at the immigration (shhhhh..................... don't mention it everrrr again!)
b. I need facials badly
c. Gooly needs to go school soon
d. I haven't been playing sure win mahjung

And then together with other chocolatey remnants, I flush down the list. Gooooosh!

Dream lah!!!!! Here also not New Yorrrrk! (MadEgg, you in Boston, nearer.. go try your luck! Don't use my ideas though.. :P)

Mana..where?

My ah bu likes to keep the house void.

Empty.

Vacant.

Unfilled.

Weirdly, she is a hoarder too. Nothing gets thrown out.

She stashes stuff into store rooms, boxes, under the beds, high up in the cupboards, at the backyard, under the tanks, etc. You asked if she has seen what or what, she will say, "Probably yes, but dunno where.." Sei moe?

Meanwhile, the kids like leaving new loots on the table, on the chair, on the floor etc. In other words, everywhere visible and reachable.

Miraculously, the newly bought items will go missing the very next day. The only person who keeps and hence, knows but forgets will be her.

"Where is my shampoo, ah bu?"

"Aiyah..somewhere in the house la. Can find one la.. I never throw anything one.."

TSK!

After some huffing and puffing and more tsk-ing, I found my Pantene-Results-in-14 days bottle in the dining room, in the cabinet, under the microwave oven, behind the toaster, in a shoe box...

Doh! Washing hair can be so difficult.. if you stay with ah bu

Kungfu Hustle

Do you know..

..that my father was a kungfu master?

Don't pray pray.

We used to stay in a bungalow with a big compund. But I think if revisited, it wouldn't seem so big. There was a sign, with some chinese words and a tiger leaping forward hung on the wall. I reckon it said something like "SHAOLIN SCHOOL OF ARTS".

Haha.. achah je. I must remember to ask my master shifu later the name of the illegal set-up.

Anyways, I remember once a week, fellow comrades will gather at the compound to learn kung fu. Hiak! Huak! Hick! Very macho, indeed. Being the youngest, I was always prompted to learn along. And so cutie-pie me with sweaty head will 'chak ma' (the horse stance) and huak hiak hick together. Like real..

After sweating it out, the hustlers usually lepak a while and being responsible to the society, the shifu always delivered speeches about learning kungfu as a form of self-defence, and not to pick fights. When attacked, RUN and lapor polis. Hee hee..what crap.

When Micheal Hui's comedy became more popular compared to Bruce Lee's brutal ones, the student intake for our club also plunged. Soon the establishment was dissolved.

But I will fondly remember the way the uncle bus hollered, "KUNGFU KIDS" just before reaching our house, and the four of us will trot forward.

I will also remember how my shifu taught me THE FORK move. It's quite hard but I mastered it. When attacked, use the index and middle fingers to form a fork and poke the bugger's eyes.

Do you think there is a highly sacred scroll hidden in the house some where? Cos frankly, I don't think THE FORK is very canggih..

*fades in EVERBODY LOVES KUNGFU FIGHTING..*

When I was younger..

I watched lots of Tv.. He-man, She-ra, Smurfs. I was neither popular in school nor a freak. There was always a gang to hang out with. I wasn't the prettiest, the smartest but I was definitely happy. I had guys as friends. I had girls as buddies.

And then I grew up a lil bit. I watched A-Team, Mcgyver and other craps. Again, I wasn't particularly outstanding in school. I stood at one corner during netball sessions. My art pieces were like junks. My maths, need I say, sucked? I wore spectacles and had braces. (Aiyoh..like Ugly Betty :P) But I was definitely happy.

Happy with my gang, happy with myself, happy in our corner. Acknowledging other beauties, admiring cute guys. Loathing lessons, loving free periods. Very carefree indeed.

At some point, I was the teacher's pet as I was elected the monitor of the class. Arf! Arf!

"Kelas bangun, se-la-maat pa-gi, cikgu..." I called out and other classmates droned. And that's about when my gang was noticed as an elite group though we begged to differ.

Being very neutral and at ease with the opposite sex, my gang started recruiting some guys. We'd go out on weekends; bowlings, movies and such. We were pretty advanced then cos I don't think the other peers were doing them. Mind you, these weren't dates. It just so happened that we 'ngam key' eventhough we didn't share the same human anatomy.

We weren't the most popular. Heck, I think most of the other classmates would have forgotten me by now. Those who remember would always say, "Oh.. the gang .." (Like gangsta hoh?) I guess we were just a bunch of people lucky enough to have found each other. We were loyal, helpful and accepting.

So you see, I have been lucky all my life. Having friends, and being comfortable with them. There wasn't a need to be the prettiest or smartest or most popular. We didn't care so much for those stuff.

Hence I think, acceptance is the essence of a happy life. Don't confused that with 'approval'.

The purpose of this recollection is due to a conversation I had with a friend who said:

"Think about it..there were surely a teacher's pet, a weirdo and a black sheep in your class."

Ah so..? Which was I? (Yeah, you'd say weirdo and I disagree, wokeh?) It struck me that I have only happy memories of my schooldays.. or I was genuinely happy that I was oblivious of the other less fortunate ones? Or could it be things were much simpler then.. everyone was happy. There wasn't a need to be jealous, to bully or to hate. I reckon girls started getting bitchy only after Beverly Hills 90210 and boys being hamsap after Baywatch. Agree? (Side note- do you notice how I intertwine my thoughts with Tv programs? I really watched a lot, you know..What 9silapsap also watched..:P)

Will Gooly be as lucky? To find friends who accept him the way he is, the way I was accepted? FYI, the gang and I are celebrating 20 years of friendship. Along the way, I have picked up other precious ones; iloveedamame, Tracy, Shakira, Sawi Sekilo.. and then recently, blogging buddies.

Dear friends,

I am funny because you make me laugh.
I am crazy because you don't mind.

I am ugly because you let me.
I am pretty because you say so.

I care because you love.
I love because you teach me how.

My life greatest production (besides Gooly la) will be friendships.

My life greatest assets (besides my bags la) will be my friends.

Thank you? You hear me? Thank you from the bottom of my heart..

:)

Smile

I have always been a smile-r. Born in the 70s, raised in the 80s, I was probably influenced by the smile song which was aired over RTM 1. Remember? The one that goes:

A smile is quite a funny thing, it lightens up your face..?

The so called MTV had montages of children and wrinkly octogenarians smiling. The kinda smiles that crept slowly and had long lasting images in your brain. I smiled so much during my younger days that one of my friend's cynical mum asked, "Chap toe kum ah?" (Did I strike gold?) Upon self-reflection, I decided to adopt a cooler personality. So I'd go to school looking moody on purpose. Instead of being perceived as the cool chick, I was however thought to be a PMS-inflicted teenager, full of angst and hatred.

Within a year, I dropped the sad, constipated mask. By year end, I was described as 'jovial' in the yearbook. So that's probably what most of the school mates will remember me by - the girl who smiled a lot despite her mouthful of braces (I hope not with Kangkung in between).

After form 6, I worked at a production house where the crew often had photography sessions when the boss wasn't around. Studio shots in B & W were a rare commodity then. Hence, Rani- the tealady, Din -the dispatcher and I, the receptionist welcome these illegal, closed-door sessions. Being eccentric, the photographers had wanted more avant-garde shots. They wanted me to look sultry. They wanted my face to reflect the tortured soul in me. If I could act the part, they would have wanted a forlorn prostitute looking out the window kinda shots. But alas, I am a SMILEY supermodel. Bring out the lights, camera and SMILE! No actions, just smile. I think the photographers gave up and threw in the remark, "Ok ok, smile.. but don't smile like a siao chabor.." *gasp* I didn't know I had looney smiles.

Despite that, I continue smiling at cameras now. I have accepted it as a chronic malady. My teeth show so much in pictures that some idiot truthful friend nicknamed me "Watermelon".

When I had a sack of potatoes as tummy, total strangers smiled a lot at me. I supposed I was a happy preggie woman. I like to believe that happiness emancipated from within then. So I smiled, and a smile made two those kinda shits .

The other day, a friend blogged that the parking lady gave her a genuine smile as she exited the parking lot cum shitty day. She felt happier after that. I don't know if my smiles were that powerful considering that according to some professionals.. erm.. you know..I look a bit 'pak chi'.

Just for conversation sake; I realise we generally don't smile to people we see everyday. Think about it.. do you smile to your hub? Your children? Weird or not if you wake up and smile at the person next to you? (excluding one night stands :P)Aiya.. don't care la. I admit I am 'pak chi' cos I smile to Gooly a lot. And I think he inherited the smiling genes. That day while I was filling up the tank, he sat inside the car and gazed out the window. His eyes caught mine and a smile spread across his face. It was a 'pleased to meet you' kinda smile. I waved back cheerily.

So, what makes you smile? Babies? Dogs? Babes? People falling into longkang? People's "longkang"? *nudge nudge gargies*

My first RANT!

Have I mentioned that the utmost joy in motherhood in Bangkok is that there is no interference from any patt pohs parties?

Yes, there are ideas, suggestions and advice, but nothing unwelcome. Nothing of such:

a. why isn't he speaking Chinese?
b. why is he so manja?
c. you have spoilt him

If they came from my mother, I could still accept albeit would feel a bit boh song. If from my MIL, same sentiment. But from somebody whom I rarely spoke to for the last 10 years, DENG HUI!

Seriously, who gives her the liberty to assume, presume, guess, criticise and question my parenting style? And the fact that SHE has made Gooly cried for her poor verbal skills, she was not bashful. Instead, she blamed it on Gooly who after all is not yet 4, and thus carries the licence to cry.

#)@*$)@_!

Ok, so Gooly is a hampao. So what? What about the fact that he is polite, and sweet and gentle? Yes, he is very talkative, but only I can complain because I am his mother!

*stands one corner and pouts* Now who wants to come sayang me? Err.. I mean Gooly :P

Post Mortem..

Choy!

Tee hee.. I meant a small report on my arrival in KL. Nothing much had happened. The major thing would be the acute vomiting I got on the first day I arrived. Blek! No more Ming Tien Ipoh Hor Fun. No FUN at all!

Other than that.. nothing much. Have been unpacking, 8-ing with sis and mum.. while Gooly has his fair share of chatting with his unwilling audience.

With so many people in the house, naturally we spent less time together; Gooly and I. Yesterday being the 3rd night in KL, I tucked him in on his single bed, and I climbed onto mine, feeling lethargic. A few minutes passed, and I felt something heavy on my chest.

It was him. He had smuggled onto my bed and laid his big smelly sweaty head on my chest, with his arms wrapped around my barrel waist.

"Hoi, go back to your bed," was my first reaction.

He wouldn't budge. And it struck me that we spent so much time together before that now, despite the loads of fun and banters he has with other people, he is in fact missing me. So I just let him be. Within seconds, he fell asleep.

No matter where he may be, or who he plays with, at the end of the day, it's still Mahmee that he needs, eh?

It's comforting to know that. :)

Dear Principal

A couple of weeks back, a close friend told me that her son was punched at school.Oh yes.. there is a Bruce Lee, Mohamad Ali and perhaps Jackie Chan in places where there are supposed to be pretty fluffy clouds with beautiful rainbows, and little children put their hands on little friends' shoulders, make choo-choo sound and head on to classes. Much to our chagrin, not-so-cute Kungfu Pandas make their unwanted presence in such sanctuaries too.

And so the poor boy bled in his nose. His hankie was bloody, his shirt drenched also. My friend was called to pick him up. Upon seeing him, instead of crying his heart out, he said almost nervously, "It's ok, Mummy.. Nothing lar.. nothing happened lar." And the teacher and principal stood behind him, resting their hands on his shoulder, nodding and breathing slightly heavier.

While we marvel at his bravery, we have a sneaky suspicion that the teachers have cajoled him into thinking, "Do not make a mole hill out of an ant's hill..so what you got a bloody nose? Everybody gets punched in schools. You big boy or not? Ah.. Big boys don't cry." Not exactly those words, but you get the drift.

And the next day, my friend's son was sent to another class, to avoid that bully, whose parents didn't apologize but dare to demand to remain in the same class. The victim was ostracized.

Being 8 kwar righteous, I helped my friend pen the below letter:

Dear Principal,

I am deeply disappointed with the way the school handled my son's unfortunate experience two days ago. While not being able to ensure the safety of the students within the school compound, you have committed a greater mistake by trying to cover up the mishap.

Upon receiving phone calls from the school regarding his nose bleed, I rushed there only to hear a nervous, "It's ok, Mummy .. I'm ok." It broke my heart that my son has resorted to hide his pain, hurt and fear by acting nonchalant about the whole incident. His hanky and shirt were soaked in blood. Hence, please don't mock me by reassuring me that he wasn't feeling hurt, scared or shocked, like any other child would, if not coaxed by the school party to play it cool.

What disappoints me further is the arrangement you deem as the solution for this case, which is by transferring my son to another class. Meanwhile, the boy who punched him walks away WITHOUT an apology, remains in the same class, feeling triumphant that he has gotten rid of the boy, who, dare I say.. complained? FYI, my son dislikes this arrangement and is feeling as though he is punished for 'making a mole hill out of an ant hill'.

Someone once said, "All the things we need to know about life, we learn in the kindergarten." It makes me shudder in fear that my son will grow up learning these from your school:

a. it's ok to lie
b.It's ok not to apologize
c. I must hide my feelings
d. I will be punished if I told the truth
e. it's ok to punch or bully
f. it's ok to be punched or bullied

I'm not insistent on getting an apology from any party as the damage has been done. While this letter may sound harsh, I must stress that my intention is to bring awareness to your school and others as well, on the note that everything you do as an educator or teacher creates an impact in a child's life.

Thank you.

Yes, accidents do happen. Yes, boys get rough. But what we do aftermaths is most important. Saying sorry, being truthful, having the courage to own up - should we not inculcate them, especially if you are an educator/teacher or more obviously, a father or mother?

Boy, am I glad Gooly is still at home, where the bully mom kicks ass makes mistakes and apologizes.

What do you do if your child comes home bloody from school? ( on account that he was not into gansgterism, and that he was clearly bullied?) Eee.. sakit hati.

Common vs normal

I was telling someone that someone may be a bisexual. Do I care? Nope, I am just bored and nosy.

"Cheh, normal la. Gays and lesbians everywhere," was the respond I got.

I see. A girl tongue-kissing another girl is perceived as normal these days. But I beg to differ. Common is more apt, I think. Neither am I saying that it's abnormal to be a bi or homo. I don't care unless you are a family.

Thus nothing shocks society anymore. Another daylight robbery? Normal la. Another missing child? Normal la.

We are getting tolerant, aren't we? We don't empathize anymore, do we? When do we start getting appalled and disgusted like the way we used to?

I ask because I have a son whose innocence and life is in jeopardy due to all the normalcy the society has accustomed to.

Edited: While lunching, I realised that I sounded irked about one's sexual orientation. Naa.. not that. What is more worrisome is people jumping on the bandwagon of empowering homosexuality because it's cool to have a relationship ala madonna-britney. Read COOL . Not because of genetic makeup. Not because of the complex interactions of biological, pychological and social factors. Because it's COOL. Now that's NOT normal. Not in the eyes of a concerned parent.

It's back to thinking how weird thais are..

We have been trying to get hold of the man who cuts the grass in this mooban. He is usually around doing odd jobs. As far as exaggeration is concerned, the lalang in my garden is waist high now. So we desperately needed him to come 'kaotim' those buggers.It's very mind-boggling how the locals operate their 'ricebowl'. Back home, the 'thambi' rings the door bell every month and checks if we need to get the grass cut. It's kinda like maintaining his customer base, lest that he doesn't come and we decided on another 'ahneh' fella. But here, the gardener doesn't offer his service even when he sees that the garden is transforming into a jungle.

Anyways,2 weeks ago, the uncle strolled by. I quickly opened the glass door, and hailed him down, and pointed madly at the grass and do the 'chop chop' hand signal. To me, it was quite obvious what I needed him to do. Afterall, he has been doing it for the past two years. Aiseh, he looked at me and queried, "Alai?" -what? Cut grass la, what? Ask you to come in yumchar meh? So I did some chop-chopping action again. He went,"Ohhh.. ok ok."

He didnt come on that day. Neither did he come the next day. By day 3, I was tulan annoyed and decided to ask my neighbour if she could get him to come over ASAP. She knew that snakes and cacings don't care much about territory and will cross over to her house from our 'semak samun'. Thus, she said she will help to summon that uncle. Later, I was told that he would get it settled by this week.

Today is the 2nd week since I 'handchopped' him. Still no sight and sound of him. Feeling tulan annoyed again, I went across the street to another lady who speaks smattering English, and requested for her gardener.

"But no same same," she told me.
"Mai pen rai (never mind)," I replied.

Just then, the 1st neighbour rushed out and proclaimed, "He is coming today!" I have no idea how on earth she knew what the topic of the day was. And the 2nd neighbour looked relieved that she has not caused my garderner to lose one job.

I ambled back to my house, scratching my head. Was it taboo to change gardener in this kingdom? Even for one who has failed to accomplish his task after a notice of 2 weeks? It all appeared that I was too fussy and impatient. I could almost hear them say, "You want to change gardener JUST because you waited for 14 days? Preposterous!" Seriously, I would have stomped the ground and insisted I want another garderner, if I had spoken Thai. But alas, I could only muttered an insincere "mai pen rai"

It's 4 pm. Is he coming or not? D'oh!

Aiya.. not all of them are rotten apples

I realised I have done injustice to the kingdom of smiles when I blatantly wrote about unpleasant encounters with the locals, or have I not? Haiz..Flagrantly amnesiac these days. Cannot remember if I posted my ramblings pertaining to uncouth locals here, or at the other blog or to myself or to unwilling listeners, or worse, Gooly's imaginary buddies.

Anyways, I must always remind myself not to generalize. Not all Thais are _____ (fill in blank. I wish not to digress), some are really nice.

Heheh.. of course something happened lar for this change of opinion.

OK, it's like this. Amnesiac me left Gooly's swimming vest by the pool and someone made a property out of it. *exhale inhale exhale inhale* It's a vest which doesn't cut the armpits like the ordinary ones. And getting a new one here would cost an extra Rm20, and so I stinged and stayed away from the pool for a while. One of the regulars noticed the absence and asked why. I briefly told him about the loss. And today, he honked us on his way back from work, and told us his son has outgrown the exact same type of vest and would we mind getting a second hand?

NO! I almost yelled jubilantly. So nice hor? Are you jeles yet? :P I *heart* Thais (some, not all )

Watevah

It's an understatement that all mummies in the world like to compare - my son is taller than yours, my daughter is smarter than his, my baby is cuter than hers.. yada yada yada.. you get the drift.

I used to tutor kids before I was a mummy myself. Some kids were reading by 2.5 years old. Zoweee! And mummies would expect them to write and spell by 3, cos they got bored re-telling how the kids can read Dr. Zues and recognise about 200 chinese characters. Gotta have some other things to brag about at the saloons and also during mahjung sessions, pronto!

Some kids were smart and lucky to breeze thru the spelling process, but they would get stuck when challenged to write stories. Seriously how on earth can they comprehend the complexity of a beginning, middle and end framework when they have only lived on earth for less than 4 years? It was a mixture of awe and pity I had for the kids.

I had an amazing student who read by age 2, wrote stories by age 4. Yes, yes, again and again, I told the mom, she is amazing.. she is talented. However, it struck me that she wasn't concern about the development. She knew the girl aced and nailed everything academically. But she still needed to hear it. After awhile, she even wanted to know how 'badly' or how slowly the other kids were progressing. *shake head, make tut tut sound*

Having surrounded by kiasu moms for a period of time, I am surprised that I am less kancheong, especially about matters concerning the oh-so-boring ABCs and 1,2,3s. Any given day, I'd choose politeness and decorum over the ability to spell tyranasau-even-I-can't-spell-it rex.

Once in a while, some retarded mums come along and irk the bejesus out of me by wondering aloud if Gooly was solving algebras or has finished reading Harry Potter and the Seven Dwarfs, cos their bookwormy kids have. Normally, I'd answer the truth, albeit silently, which is:

"You crazy ah, you think he got nothing to do ah? There are balls to kick, and cartoons to watch, you know..?"

What comes out from my polite mouth will be, of course:

"Wow, so panai one your daughter/son.." which is really a compliment. No sarcasm intended. The kids are indeed brilliant in every sense, but the parents are another story.

They must think I am insane for not subliming Gooly. So they try to test-try me again to be sure, just so there is something to talk about on MSN. When it appeared that I think making up a story using narration is equally awesome as writing it, they think of other things to compare.

One fella wondered how come Gooly is not eating spicy food YET cos his Letchumi is dipping her roti canai into curry fish already. And another time, some aunty commented that her grand daughter could gulp down a chicken drumstick and ten grapes at one go when Gooly could only chow down half a wing and 2 grapes. Wuah.. the quantity and type of diet consumed also can be measured and compared.

I should really say, watevuh to these folks.. cos I seriously don't fret about superlatives. I am happy that Gooly is clever, not cleverer, not cleverest. It's ok if Mirium could run faster. We can live without winning the suffixes -er and -est. I pity the kids whose parents/grandparents can't.

In return, they probably pity Gooly for an insane mum who has minimal understanding about being the best..

*shrug*

A little sad and a little glad

Oh,the moment I knew you grew
Was when teardrops fell just a few
Gory blood was insight today
I'm alright was all you did say

Oh, today you made me proud
Cos you offered, without a doubt
A squeezy seat in a crowded train
To me, whose heels were in great pain

Oh, how can I forget your sweet sweet smiles
When you say thank you mahmee
For carrying you for miles
You're welcome was responded by a charming kiss
I think I'm blessed to have a kid like this

Oh, I must remember to forget
That I remain a little sad
Of the fact you are now a boy
How silly to think you will forever be my toy

I mustn't forget to remember, oh gee
That I have begun to miss my little baby
I am a little confused maybe
Cos I also love the boy whom you've grown up to be

But stop growing once in a while
Cos the baby in you makes me smile
Stay 3 for a little while more
I do forsee my life will be a bore
Without your silly banters, sloppy kisses
Warmest hugs and childish giggles

Proud, sad, happy, glad
I think it's really not that bad
To feel all that in a day
Just don't you dare fly away
No, not today, not today..

Morbid tales

I'm gonna treat this as a confession booth for today. I confess, I'm obsessed with death. Oh not mine of course. Noh, noh, noh, noh... I dont mind if I were to die first. But for the note, I love the song, "I see you when you get there, see you when you get there.." It's gonna be my funeral song. A little P.Diddy action there. Oh,and I do believe the spirit hanging around for a while before taking the lift up, so yeah.. I will be at my 'partay', listening to all the requiems and eulogies.

Anyways, about this fear of other people dying, I have prepped myself a lot more than other people would. I choose movies which has morbid endings, where everybody dies or at least someone dies. Hence, when somebody tells me, "You should watch this. It's really good." On top of my checklist would be,"Did anybody die in that movie?" I usually get a blank look, or worse, a you-are-weird look. Needless to say, Titanic is my favorite.So while everyone walked out of the theater cussing the director/producer for such a lousy ending, I applauded. And I watched it again. This time armed with a box Kleenex, alone cos nobody likes sad movies, remember? Sissys!

What are the other morbid, good for crying and dying movies? Let's see.. Moulin Rouge, a tv drama about a boy who died of AIDS (long long time ago, the grandpa handcrafted his coffin, sob sob), Philadephia, My Girl (someone died of bee stings), City of Angels...

There are books I like too; Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture", Harry Potter (when Dumbledore died), The Life of Alex (she died at 8), Five People You Meet in Heaven, Tuesdays with Morrie...

When it comes to the part where someone kicks the bucket, I'd often wondered, which way will I react? Scream disbelievingly or sob silently? Chest pounding wails(for Chinese dramas la)or fainting action? And what happens after? Days/weeks in bed? Zombies look-alike? Sigh.. morbid morbid indeed.

Say, is the way I am dealing with inevitable but not-happening-yet deaths of loved ones futile? Cos, my world is still gonna collapse when it happens no matter how much I watch/read about people's deaths right? But still, do you know any books/movies you hate but think I will love? Yeah yeah.. for sadistic me.

Bahasa

A friend was fussing about which International school to send her daughter to as she thinks learning Bahasa in her current kebangsaan school is a waste of time, doesnt get her anywhere and will not help her in her future job endeavours. I believe many share the same sentiment. I do too but only half heartedly.

I still remember what I have learnt in Uni in Sociolinguistic 401; that no one language is more superior than the other and that the pure purpose of a language is to convey messages.

I have always spoken Bahasa, Cantonese, English and Cantonese with ease. Some jokes I think when told in Cantonese sound funnier. And cussing in Hokkien is a lot of fun. I like telling stories in Bahasa. So in my daily conversations, I switch from one language to another language with minimal problem.

I guess my point is its beneficial when one learns another language just for the pleasure of learning it, without thinking if it will help in the career or Uni entrance. If I could, I would want to learn Mandarin and some French. The latter is so that I wouldn't embarrass myself when ordering Hors de ourves.

So yes, I will be teaching Gooly Bahasa because I grew up speaking it and if he is not going to use it in his working days, he shall use it while speaking to me. : )

Pet peeves

There are a number of things which irk me in life. Here's the list in random order:
a) flies on rubbish, food, corpses
b) people who dig the nose in public
c) people who dig the nose in public and roll the boogers into balls and flick them
d) chicken breasts
e) chinese parsley a.k.a poison
f) play dough not in the right coloured container
g) taugeh in curry mee
h) robbers, i mean cops, i mean robbers. Same difference!
i) the Sun on a hot day
j) stupidity (mine included)
k) hypocrisy

This shall be updated from time to time. Why do I think you want to know my pet peeves? I'm hoping that you will spread the news so I don't have to get irritated that often. Thanks in advance for your co-operation.

Some people never change. neither will I

With FB and MSN, digging up old long lost friends is just a click away. These past months I have indeed been keeping in touch with a handful of them.

After weeks of chats, I realised why they were "lost' friends. They have not changed one bit. Mr A is still a Casanova. Mr. B is still a workaholic. Ms X is still ignorantly dense. And yours truly is still judgmental.

Mind you, not that I am proud of it. It's just that I realised some things and some people never change, including me. Part of me feel consoled that my decisions to abandon those friendships eons ago were right on the spot because of how they were. On the other hand, I feel fairly disappointed that they are the same.

I mean shouldn't we have grown up and be better persons, for humankind? I wish Mr. A will find true love, Mr. B will spend more time with his family and Ms. X.. Is there a cure for stupidity? :P

OK.. I need to change too. I shall be less judgmental on my next blog. I shall try.

Once upon a long long time ago..

When I was thin.. hang on.. I was never thin.. Let's start over. When I was thin-ner, I used to wear halternecks and dresses. Walking in heels was excruciating but not a problem. Mascara, eyeliner, blush, lipstick - they were always in order. Handphone the size of err.. a pencil case (not a small one either) was tucked into either the back pocket of Levis or mini handbags.

All cross- checked, I went trit-trot-tritting across the valley to the sounds of music. In other words, discotheque/club. Gosh, are those words obsolete now? If they are not, I am sure these are: Branigans, Fire, Modesto, Arena, Jump, Beach, Boom Boom. Were you there too? Prancing and dancing to nanananan, babe give it up, babe give it up? Or YMCA, complete with the idiotic alphabeting movements?

If we wound the clock backwards a bit more, we'd be in Picadilly, where dancing in a circle was considered cool. Much much later, techno and trance music were everywhere. Headache, ear-ache but still bearable.

Fast forward to life at present in Bangkok. Superbed Club, RCA. Sure, heard and read of them. But no thank you if you want a night out with me. I have aged gracefully. But just a note to Gooly; Mahmee was hip and happening before. ;-)

To love and be loved a thousand times more

I found a copy of The Kite Runner under my bed and read it in 2 days. It's a sad tale of love, friendship, kinship, betrayal , loyalty, war and the aftermath of it - all the essence to make it a good, make it a VERY good and satisfying read. I devoured it like a vulture would a carcass. A few times I just let the tears flow. My most poignant memory of the story was when one of the two protagonists challenged the other, his loyalty, by asking, "Would you really do that for me?" (I will not spoil the storyline by telling what he had requested)

"For you, a thousand times more" was the reply.

It's like he would cross the ocean a thousand times, love a thousand times, and die a thousand times, if that is what he should do. Such profound love.

I imagine a mother uttering that to her child, a lover to another lover, a loyal friend to another friend , a wife to her husband and my husband to me.

Of course I have also learned to say, "For you, a thousand times more, Gooly. Whatever that you want me to do." Only when we can say these words with all our hearts and to receive them in return that I think we have lived our lives with no regrets.