Conversations

I like having conversations.
Meaningful ones, interesting ones, playful ones, lifting ones...
I don't normally remember the details of what we spoke of,
but more of what it felt like at that time.

I learnt that:
1. Frog is gembe and bird is kurulla in Singhala.
2. It costs AUD1,300 to fly from Thailand to Berlin.
3. There are various types of mahjong and people in Singapore play the Cantonese version whereby the blocks get randomly placed on the table.
4. AKB48, the famous Japanese girls group has actually 48 members in it and that AKB stands for a place's name in Japan- Akihabara. Their song called Fortune cookie was the rave a year back in the country.
5. People, in general, are not used to receiving gifts on random days.

Etc.

People are interesting, right?

Having said so, I get slightly disturbed when people fail to remember what I think is important information.
Sigh. I should stop having these sort of expectations.

Reminder: Buy a red velvet cake for someone I will miss.

P.S: It's funny how a conversation of people moving in and out of an accommodation place can be put into a whole different context. 'Oh she was in last year, then she went out and came back in.' I heard this over lunch today and pictured a conversation between two patients in a dingy mental asylum with flickering lights and burnt cigarettes butts. What nonsense. Such prejudice. 

Thoughtful videos

Have I ever told you,
how good Petronas ads are?
About how amazingly touching the late Yasmin Ahmad's productions were, or rather, are,and of the little insights they enrapture, even after all these years?

Here are some of them:

1. Where mockery and development co-exist.

2. Where innocence sees past colour.

3. Where simple imperfections become part of you.

And the list goes on.

But I should study.

A misdirected sheep that made someone's day

A day of long hours and idleness.

Somehow I could not fall asleep the night before.
I tried to doze off but I remained awake.
Perhaps from the remains of the caffeine from the Matcha Red Bean I had at night.
I dozed off at five, only to wake up three hours later.
Life.

I was being unproductive in my room.
In a split second decision, I decided to crash my friends' place.
Rather than being a functionless ornament in my room of chalk residue and junk food.

Apparently, my non-stop chattering is actually quite endearing.
I think people like me better when I lack sleep.
Especially since I behave even more weirdly, and funnily, people equate that to cuteness.
Adorable but ugly according to the urban dictionary.
See what I mean by sleep deprived.

I am going to miss hanging out in an apartment full of girls whom I can be kiddish and playful with.

I got lost on my way to Coogee from their house.
I had a tinkling intuition that I was going the wrong way but I decided to trust the girls who had given me directions.
And so I walked down the hill with an extra spring in my step.
Randwick Girls' High and pretty lawns came into view.
The weather was just right today with the right amount of sunlight.

There were no signs of Coogee.
The signboards said that I was headed towards Maroubra/ La Perouse.
It was then that I decided to whip my phone out to give an emergency call.
Only to be assured that I had steered myself down the wrong direction.
A monologue popped into my brain: 'Is it possible for me to walk to La Perouse in half an hour?'
A normal day for a sheep with a bad sense of gearing, I must say.

The lost sheep made someone's day today.
The sheep's friend seemed taken aback that the sheep dropped by to pass her junk food just because it thought of her.
She delightfully said: 'Christmas came early.'
The sheep replied: 'It doesn't need to be Christmas or your birthday for me to give you presents. You're allowed to receive presents at any time of the year and well, this is your present.'
Her facebook status was updated today with her stating that she loves the essence of surprises.
The ' Just because I was thinking of you, it doesn't have to be your birthday or anything.' intention meant a tonne to her. Yay.

Bats vs. Flying Foxes

An act of procrastination.

So, I forgot to mention that I camped out on the windy fields of Centennial Park the other day in an attempt to study and conceal my disappointment from being unintentionally ditched by a group of people.

Armed with a fear for the aviators, I bench hopped until I reached the other side of the pond, somewhere I have not actually explored.

To be stunned by something akin to a miniature reserve for Flying Foxes!

Ahem, according to the research that I have done on the Internet:

1. Flying mammals are called bats.
2. Chiroptera means hand-wings. (I knew my fervent anime watching days would kick into real life somehow)
3. There are two types of bats, the microbats and the macrobats (3-6 feet of wingspan).
4. Microbats eat insects in general and macrobats like Flying Foxes eat fruits and nectar.
5. Flying foxes prefer to rest on trees and not in caves.
6. Flying foxes are vital in its pollination role, especially for the Eucalyptus trees in Australia.
7. Apparently, there are lots of grey-headed flying foxes in Australia.
8. Flying foxes use echolocation to sense, but they have excellent vision too.

I did a quick round and ran out of the sanctuary because it was around 4 pm  and I did not want them waking up to an unknown trespasser. What if I got rabies or something (flaunting my ignorance)? Disclaimer: I do not know whether one gets rabies directly from bats.

Genderless friends

If she were a girl,
I would be able to do rugged sports with her
and talk to her about flying pink elephants,
and know that we won't get into any sort of sticky emotional situations
no matter what we talk about and how we act around one another.

If he were a guy,
I would be able to do girlish stuff with him, like paint his nails
and talk to him about how fat I am now,
and be safely assured that there will not be any sort of reactions
that lead to messy relationships.

Because friends are friends.

And friends shall remain as friends. <Living in an idealistic world>

Genderless friends are people whom you spend lots of time with without worrying about how things would change if you acted in a certain way. They are people that one does not shy away from when in need of bear hugs because awkward situations will definitely not arise. They are creatures of comfort, and purely that.

My silly self

What if the wick of the candle slithered downwards towards the fast melting wax?

Would the tiny flame extinguish itself or would it survive by reaching its wisps outwards, reacting in combustion with its atmosphere?

My brain has been so muddled up lately.

I cannot seem to pinpoint the exact reason.

Where is my time that I seem to not be able to grasp hold of?

Why are my thoughts scattered amidst a bowl of fine grains?

Perhaps I have been doing too much talking recently.

I have a headache that may be attributed to a lack of water intake.

But I choose to blame my surroundings on the awkwardness and powerlessness that I feel right now.

How silly.

Squawk

What is that plant along High Street called?

Why does the bush that it is in look as though it has been put together by humans artificially?
Why are there sharp brown sticks jutting out from an array of green luscious swaying ply?

How do the razor poky-looking sticks conceal their fluffiness so aptly?

Awkward phase.  

Why is Polly considered a generic name for parrots?
Is it just because 'parrot' and 'Polly' have the same initials?
I would be sad if I were Polly the parrot.
I would probably be highly confused if there was another Polly in the neighbourhood.

Awkward phase.

Why is the Tourette's Syndrome (TS) the way that it is?
Why do some people not get progressively better?

Should that particular bunch of muscles not somehow learn to suppress itself after years of training to return their owners a peace of mind?
Why is it so that people only quote the example of someone who curses non-stop when they talk about TS?
How would the public ever remember that people who twitch their heads or snort uncontrollably do that involuntarily too? 

I should sleep.

Goodnight.

Life Anniversaries

It's the 25th of October already.
I'm reminded yet again,
of how swiftly time flutters by
and how precious memories remain as treasures
made to withstand the flurries of current worries.

It was the first time I saw my pa cry.

His cheeks glistened with tears that flowed from his sunken, sleep-deprived eyes.
Pained from the stone cold reality, he hid.
He tried to hide from the heart-wrenching image that he would not, or rather, could not accept.

The peaceful body that lay in the living room, still and lifeless, 

was too much to bear. 

I remember kissing Thata.

The coldness of his skin,
the clammy sensation that crept into my frozen emotions,
the dawning of a comprehension that well, was stubbornly secluded outside my carefully constructed walls to prevent me from getting hurt.

Every year on this day,

I renew my oath to myself:

To treat people that I care about better while they are still around.

To say:
I love you.
Thank you for cooking for me.
I miss you.
You look pretty in that.
How are you?
You've made me proud.
You are amazing.
You are my precious person.

The subsequent part has been written after a few hours.

I think an analogy of a butterfly's life cycle would be an excellent way to depict a human's life.

As the cocoon rests,

the child grows and learns and plays.
As it breaks out of its cocoon,
the teenager prepares to leave home.
As the butterfly gets its first glimpse of the world,
the adult ventures into the working world.
As the butterfly seeks for nectar,
the middle aged person shoulders on more responsibilities.
As the butterfly prances around bushes of flowers,
the retiree ventures onto a new and relaxing journey.

As the wings of the butterfly deteriorates,

the aged person experiences arthritis and physical disabilities.

As the butterfly slowly flutters to a stand still,

the frail person leaves Earth's surface.

I hope Thata, that you're all dandy and happy, wherever you may be.

Spring Cycle

As I multi-task,

looking at my ma's and sister's excitement of new, good quality, cheap Deepavali clothes; 

I recollect today's Spring Cycle event. 

Having two hours of sleep after settling my friend's accommodation,

Being sleep deprived the day before,
I dragged myself up to take the spot of another cyclist who pulled out at the last moment.

Seeing the message on my phone go (at 5.15 am):

'There's a person near IGA who's smoking. I'm around the corner.'
I rushed out, sensing the discomfort in my friend's text. 

Sunrise was beautiful. 

The whole train compartment was filled with brightly coloured orange shirts. 

People were tired and perky at the same time. 

The two of us sprouted nonsensical phrases that I cannot seem to remember any more.

We lamented the waste of time and energy the night before in trying to figure out directions to our destination while we were walking with the huge crowd. 

North Sydney was abuzz with a quiet pool of good vibes. 

It was pretty and we started taking a ton of videos.

As we approached the starting point, we saw the 100km participants all geared and set to go.

I loved the amount of grass and the specific amount of rays in this picture.

We started out shaky on our bikes.

Hence, we decided to remain at the end of the group since we considered ourselves to be a hazard to the others.

Swerving left and right, with momentary breaks here and there, we contemplated pushing our bicycles up the slope.

We did not do so.

A random thought: My first time cycling in a decade. The seat was too high up.

I was nervous of the thought of cycling.

It went reasonably well, despite occasional heart attacks when someone passed by my side at a near distance.

The open view of the Harbour Bridge with it's massive steel construction, contrasting against the blue sky was breathtaking. I felt extremely thankful at that point of the path.

My friend and I randomly sang songs together when we were more comfortable with our vehicles.

Going past Mrs. Macquarie Chair in Royal Botanical Gardens, we looked in awe at the amazing sea line view with the Opera House, standing regally across the shimmering blue waters.

The closer we got to the city, the clearer my vision became.

We discovered new parts of the city we never knew existed. 

It was as if we were embarking on an adventure into a hidden fairy portal amidst a flower bush filled with little pine cones and minuscule toy cars and figurines.

We cycled by the Haymarket area and through familiar points too.

It felt surreal to actually be able to waddle through crazy traffic in the city on a Sunday.

One of the best parts of the cycle was definitely the positive encouragement shown by the people: the police, the volunteers, fellow participants, pedestrians. 

We reached Pyrmont first from the last.

Nevertheless, it was an achievement for the both of us.

It was a good ride. 

Heightened sensations from perked senses, good company and a beautiful weather.

It has been a wonderful day.

Albeit a slightly painful one.

DIY Window Stickers

Last week, I had an urge to own stained glass windows and hence, thought of a feasible alternative.

Window stickers or window clings!
From memory, window clings' paint cost quite an amount.
Thus, I resorted to the internet for cheaper solutions to my sudden need to own something peculiar.

Items that I bought were:
1 litre of craft (PVA) glue
A set of acrylic paint

Procedures to make DIY window stickers:
1. Lay a plastic sheet on the table.
2. Mix some glue and paint in a ziplock bag.
3. Nip the tip of the ziplock bag so that you can draw the outline of your design. (Notice that I chose black for my outlines) This step is akin to icing a cake or drawing a henna tattoo.
4. Wait for the outline to dry. This may take two hours or so.
5. Transfer coloured glue into the empty spots via a brush. Be generous.
6. After everything has been filled up, leave them overnight to dry.

Peel them off the plastic sheet and paste them on a window that gets the most sun!

Light rays will shine through the semi-translucent glue material and add a spark to your room instantly.

It took me a whole day to get these done but they were worth the painful wait. :)

Observations during a Christianity Question and Answer Session

I went yet again, for a question and answer session.

This time around, the topic was focused on pre-destined fates of everyone.
According to people, whether you're saved or not in the end does not depend on what you do.
However, you are accountable for your actions.
The discussion was left hanging in what I would call an utter contradiction with foundations being backed up by pure faith.

The Tower of Babel was destructed because humans were trying to play God.
Humans tried to tell God that they were able to reach God with their efforts.
Punishment attributing to their ignorance was bestowed upon them.

Apparently the Old Testament is similar to most of the other religions out there currently.

It speaks of how to earn God's approval to get onto his good side.

The New Testament is of a new covenant or agreement that humans would not need to please God to earn a place in heaven. If you were destined to be accepted into the heavens, then you will be able to walk freely into the realms of serenity; If not, then so be it, you will have to accept your fate.

Believers are distinguished from non- believers by their practices. 

This is so that people can identify them more easily.
An example from the Old Testament: Do not eat shellfish. Do not eat animals with weird looking hooves.

So much so that the believers would want God to come this instant to salvage the whole world and end their suffering, they are also against God coming too early since there are many non- believers out there living in ignorance. Hence, they preach as much as possible and reach out as frequently as they do to try to make them believe, to give them a chance at God, a chance of being salvaged.

I have my thoughts about the Book of Job. 

Though I might reserve it for another day.

Why do humans need to categorise themselves into groups with distinctive characteristics?

Is it because us humans, like the feeling of superiority and eliteness over others?

Why can't we just pray for every single living being the same way since everyone deserves well, fair and equal treatment? Since we ourselves as humans are flawed with sins and are not capable of giving judgements ( E.g. Job was wronged by his friends who thought that the suffering that he was undergoing meant that he must have sinned terribly)?

Why is it when people pray in communities that they say:

'Please pray for my Nana, who has been hospitalised. Oh, and she's not a believer. ' 

A person's a human, no matter what the person's religion is.

The person feels and goes through exactly the same things other homosapiens do.
Why mention religion in a sincere prayer for a sickly loved one? 

It is wrong to go against the superior being.
It is also wrong to treat someone who has shown you much love in a lesser manner.

Just my half a cent.  

When expectations overwhelm.

A parchment of Sydney's Music and Arts Festival

End of September.
At Hyde Park around 9 p.m.
Saw a few cones with animated images that moved
in accordance to selected music broadcast through
sound boxes built in into the back of the cones.
Dragged my dead tired body to look at them
even though it was slightly off my course.
The cone with the flower theme was my favourite.
Its images varied alongside some kind of tribal music.
Me. An animated flower. Darkness. Sounds. Buses.

It's a funny feeling.

Missing someone.
Even when you have not spent actual time with that person for two years.
Seeing that person in a familiar place for a certain period.
Going: 'Oh, you're back home now!'
Talking to that person in the same homey context.
Seeing related people appear at the same place, at the same time.
Without distance barriers. Without time zone differences.
Feeling contented that all your loved ones were contained in the little egg that came out from a machine that needed to be popped with coins to function.
Going: 'Oh, you went out with them today! How was everyone?'
Requesting for song covers to replace the absence of live music.
Looking at that person to spot differences.
Searching for further updates because, well,
It is hard to be apart from people you love. For so long.

I missed someone today.
I missed that person an extra bit.
Just because I could not be there to say:
'Goodbye, take care and don't miss me too much.'

Serviette Notes

Serviette Notes

I might have the same potential as the parent above.

Lord bless the child and whoever's child who stays with me for an extended period of time.

'You are my bacon~ My only bacon~ You make me happy~ When there's no food~ You never notice how much I love you~ So please don't take my bacon away~' Resonating in the four corners of my invisible music box mind.

How light carries on endlessly

This reminded me of people
who have made significant differences in my life;
Thata, who showed persistence in facing adversities. He somehow made us believe that everything will fall into place if one keeps on trying;
Paathi, who talked to us about life's wonders and everything else that mattered or didn't really matter. She told us about her ventures and how the whole world is within reach, even the stars;
Popo, who was still all smiley and loony even when battling her disease. She sprouted amazing ideas and heartfelt fears that one would keep in mind forever.

Each time someone precious leaves this Earth,
I am reminded of
'How rare and beautiful it is to exist.'

And that to be able to exist, is a wonder by itself.
 :')

Independence days of countries

El Salvador's independence day is on 15 September.

Mexico's independence day is on 16 September. Viva Mexico ;)

Malaysia's actual formation is on 16 September too.

It's called Hari Malaysia whereby Sabah and Sarawak as well as Temasik joined the peninsular to form what I now call home.

If these little pieces of land on the map did not join together to become a country, then chances are that my mom and my dad would not have met each other. And I would not have been born. You would not be reading this post. My entire blog would not have been codified in the HTML computer language the way it is now. Things would have been different. For better or for worse, I do not know.

The Australian study break was held a few hours back.

I liked how the presenters acknowledged the Indigenous people of the country and spoke of their music, soul as well as culture. There was an emphasis about how the people were 'sheltered' under the Flora and Fauna Act initially and were deemed to not be able to take care of themselves. A little history time introduced 'the assimilation process' that happened around the 1930's whereby little children were taken away from their families and subsequently taught to forget their roots. The struggle that the people had.

It weighed down the atmosphere too much. I thought that the approach was slightly reprimanding on the current generation of innocent children who are not of indigenous roots. Not that I can't understand the amount of pain and sorrow that were inflicted upon the Indigenous people. On a slight turn, I appreciated how the next presenter said something along these lines: 'Every country has its history. This is part of Australia's history.'

I find that I like Archie Roach's music. ;)

As the Aussies were presenting, I found myself questioning myself about when and how will Malaysians finally be able to talk about the so-called sensitive issues in a transparent and healthy manner. What about May 13, 1969? Why can I not find proper information about it? Why is it still regarded as a taboo? There is this quote by Socrates that used to appear on our history books a few years back that conveys the meaning of: 'Those who forget the past will surely repeat it again.' Or something of that sense.

There is another quote by him that goes: 'There is only one good, knowledge, and one evil, ignorance.' And we Malaysians are currently living in a whole lot of ignorance. Not to say that other parts of the world are not but we should measure ourselves against ourselves. There has been a change in mindset of the people, especially with widespread internet usage. However, a sheep herded society formed from years of weird education policies conveys a bigger threat to the progress of the nation with the random usage of technology. What's worrying is that the balancing scale of people who think and agree versus people who follow and agree is heavily weighted to one side. For the time being.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.- Murakami

Plans for the summer break

I wanted to volunteer for Taronga Zoo
but the job scope extends way too long into next year.

I have decided to spend my summer back at home.
Things to do:
1. Get myself checked.
2. Work part time in a kindergarten or something.
3. Start up an on-line craft store with my siblings.
4. Illustrate a children's book for the little ones.
5. Understand how to utilise the share market.

For self-satisfaction drives success.
And these sort of stuff interest me.
More than any other things for the time being.

And ...
6. Take pictures of people who matter.
7. Change my ancient phone.

Don't get caught in the net.

What I love about Malaysia.

There's this competition that's being held for a Malaysian Festival that's coming up end of this month.

I figured that I'll blog about it since the competition deadline is closed any ways.

I love our foodie culture.
I love how people make trips from Seremban to Johor
just for a simple bowl of Laksa.
I love how there's always a place to eat no matter what the time is.
I love how no one expects you to leave immediately
after you have finished you Teh Tarik.
I love how people gather together to watch Dato' Lee Chong Wei
for his matches.
I love how the view remains the same,
with images of banana trees and wooden houses flashing by
on my train rides to Kuala Lumpur from Seremban.
I love how we call people we do not know so endearingly:
MakCik, Kak, Anna, Macha, Auntie, Uncle, Popo.
I love how the faint buzz from the lights of the night market plays in the background whilst cries of bargains and the scent of food fill the warm humid air around people.
I love how people can converse with each other
using a language invented by Malaysians, for Malaysians.
I love how most of my family members are still there,
waiting for me to get back home so that they can cook for me.
I love how beautiful Malaysia is,
with its tropical jungles, amazing beaches and calm hills.
I love how Malaysia still has rational thinking people even after years of the implementation of an ever-changing wonky education system that never fails to astound parents.
I love how people are so positive with our blueprints, budgets and economic plans even if they might not be too realistic.
I love how the caring bus driver in Rasah Jaya talks to the oldies and makes sure that they sit properly before he starts moving.
I love how certain people never give up in even the most hopeless situations by writing emails to non-responsive authorities and eventually achieving something out of it.
I love how my niece can speak three different languages
fluently at 5 years old.
I love how there's a unity in people
to condemn opinions that are absurd and childish.
I love how the country is nestled between two neighbouring countries that guarantees it nearly invincible protection from natural disasters.

There's so many things that I love about Malaysia.
I could go on and on.
With tiny breaks in between.

Even though people have started to become ignorant to racial aptness
and insensitive to each other's wants,
by delineating actual meritocracy with a show of political power play;
Even though people have portrayed the country badly
on the international stage;
Even though trees are being chopped down at an alarming rate,
causing intense heat trap in certain areas of the country;
Even though crime rates have been reported to be down and I suspect that it is because people have not been reporting crimes as they should have;
Even though locally produced professionals
have earned my distrust in their skills;
Even though I get disheartened and disappointed by
news of the country from time to time;
I still think that Malaysia is amazing.

However contradictory that may sound.

To be or not to be

To be a doormat or not to be.
To be a jerk or not to be.
To be a pleaser or not to be.
To be a creator or not to be.
To be an artist or not to be.
To be a student or not to be.
To be a child or not to be.

And the list goes on and on.

What exactly does it mean to be a doormat?
If it gives you joy bringing happiness to people
by going an extra mile for them
because you know, that it will somehow make their day
then would that consist of a doormat behaviour?
Or would you only start to be a doormat
when you start expecting reciprocation from people
whose well-beings are no longer your concern?

I had fun at dance practice today.

I miss my person who's in Texas dearly.
Thank you for crying in my stead,
sacrificing time trying to figure out transportation issues,
thinking of me wherever you go,
stocking up my supplies whenever it ran low,
crashing my bed when you could not not sleep any more,
being my running partner and sing-a-long team,
accompanying me to the duck pond.

And the list goes on.

I will continue to be what I want to be.
To be.
And not to be.

The Dialogue session

I tagged along to my friend's event today.
It was about Christianity and knowing God better.

I met this fellow who was a twin
of this other person that I knew.
He was surprised that I didn't go:
'You must be joking, man.'
when he told me that he was more than that person's friend.
I guess I have evolved into a more gullible/
less assumptions sort of person.
Which is what I have been working towards.
So woots to me!

There was this story from Luke 18:9-14.
It was about a Pharisee (akin to a monk) who thought that he was better than other people since he was good. It was also about a tax collector (someone deemed bad by the olden society, linked to corruption) who said: 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' Thereafter, it was deemed that the tax collector had a right relationship with God.

Apparently, Jesus died on the cross
to bear all humanity's sins
so that all of his creations could avoid eternal judgement;
for if we were to bear our own sins, we would be condemned to eternal judgement,
a sentence once laid, can never be taken back again and will lay amongst the fires of hades.
Hence, everyone was salvaged and given a second chance then.

I like the concept of trust that was elaborated on.
Trust in God (am going to exclude the do not place too much trust in yourself part out.)
Trust means believing in another.
Something that I have come to find, difficult to do.

There was this one question that was quite thought provoking:
If you died and went up to heaven, wherever that is,
and God asked you:
'Why should I let you in?'
What exactly would be your answer?

Well, I'll probably give him a stroke with my reply:
'Well, can you tell me why instead? You know better. Should I be let in?'

According to a few others,
you can't accidentally stumble upon God.
It doesn't work that way, they say.
So this means that even if I strive to do my best in life
by being as humane as I can without ulterior motives,
living life with a slight consent to the notion of a superior being,
I would not be able to unintentionally form a subconscious relationship with the One, would I?
Hmm.

People say that God is forgiving and just.
God is slow to anger, and has abundant love for everyone.
However, why is there such a punishment as eternal judgement where one can never be saved even if he or she repents then?
Doesn't everyone deserve more than a second chance?

I like Praying by Mary Oliver.
It doesn't have to be the blue iris,
it could be weeds in a vacant lot,
or a few small stones;
Just pay attention
then patch a few words together
and don't try to make them elaborate;
this isn't a contest but the doorway into thanks,
and a silence in which another voice may speak.

How are you?

In Australia,
When I ask people:
How are you?
They immediately answer:
I'm good. Thank you. How about you?
Then I normally reply:
I'm good too.

However,
there's  no point in asking a question that has the same reply all the time.

Hence I've stopped rushing off as much,
and now I actually pause and look at people
to demand for longer, more legit answers
that convey more meaning than just a society norm.

Getting to know people and
trying to understand them requires effort,
and there is no short cut in communication.
Even though the text language has permeated through conversation times.

Reading but not understanding

I went to the library today.
Just to prevent myself from hitting the sack again.
The weather has been absolutely perfect for hibernation.

I meant for myself to be productive.
However, as the sun set,
my concentration dimmed and I started looking at blurry lines all over again.

And so I napped.
Waking up ten minutes later only to flip back three to four pages to the front.
Going: 'Did I even come across this just now?'

Presented my friend a necklace for her birthday.
She was happy and so was I.
So was the injured person whom I offered to carry her bag.

A trip to Clermont Ave

I joined this club called Servesoc.
A trip was made to the nearby old folks home.
It was an interesting one.

After sanitizing our hands, we went up.
There were so many rooms, some dreary looking, some touched up with pink hues.
There was a nurse's station nearby with four blue uniformed staff.

The weather was gloomy with a grey overcast.
Everyone felt like dozing off in their chairs or beds. Even the volunteers.
There were four goldies in the lounge room.

Elaine and I talked to one lady who's tongue muscles were not as agile any more.
Expressing herself was quite a task. We could not understand her even though she tried talking.
We tried looking at her eyes to gauge her reaction when we posed a question to her.
She was tearing up most of the time and well, I realised I needed to polish my understanding skills a bit more to comprehend her. I need to have sharper sensitivity to slight nods and the batter of people's eyelashes to understand them. Observation skills in development.

I also talked to an interesting lady named Florence who has worked as a clerk all her life.
Until she had to retire, that is.
With three cases of broken hips, I'd say that she's a pretty tough cookie.
Seven months of being not able to walk is pretty depressing.
We talked about the weather (how the farmers need rain for the crops to survive), my studies, my family. About how breakfast was her favourite meal of the day because they had scrambled eggs, baked beans on toast etc. I hope that she will be able to walk with her wheels someday soon. Maybe next time, when I see her.

There was a nonchalant looking lady name Brenda.
She's cute. Her teeth were gone and she reminded me a little of the granny from Tweety Bird.
She's been in the home for years and did not want to talk about her family. She told me to stop talking then.
So I talked to her about how I have been procrastinating my homework. She seemed amused by this.
Apparently, 3.30 pm is too early for tea time.
She likes Elvis Presley and so, I told her that I'd learn a song of his for her. Love me tender, perhaps?
She told me about the piano upstairs. I was informed that the folks like performers. :)
She was annoyed with the staff and probably a little, with life itself.
She was feeling warm under her stained blue fleece blanket.

I gave them hugs when I left. Just cause, I figured that they would like hugs loads? I guess it was a habitual sort of thing too. I should converse with the goldie who has lots of soft toys next. :)

I liked doing what I did today. Not forgetting the salsa moves I learned from Claudia who's really amazing at dancing as well as the singing session with my neighbour :D So I have been told that I can sing.

Like Crazy

The Movie.

My first thought was:
It may be a movie made by the government to educate people on the implications of overstaying your visa.
Staying the holidays over an expired visa and not being able renew it easily later on would irk anyone off.

Then it jumped along the lines of:
Well, long distance relationships are well, hard to maintain. Even for family.
I still remember this one period of my life where I tried to catch hold of some of the people that I cared about but it was so difficult, due to different time zones and life schedules. I missed them loads until I started avoiding them. It hurt too much to think of them or hear their voice or even look at their pictures.Not that it helped. The action of avoiding that is. But at that time, it was all that I could do. 

Upon watching the last scene, where they both reminisced their moments together, I went:
People are fragile. We think we know what we want. We live in the past, the beautiful past that can remain eternally wonderful because it cannot crack where it ceases to be so. We hang on tiny sewn seams to the little glimpses of hope, forgoing the weights of reality that can easily snap our threads. We use the favourite phrases of our parents :'Everything is going to be fine' whilst praying that circumstances remain the way they are, without realising that we change, ever so frequently.

Love embodies another person's development. It accepts that things change and understands that a tremendous amount of effort and dedication are required for it to be alive. My friends asked me the other day:' Do you believe in one true love or do you reckon that you can make it work with someone compatible?' And I told them that I did not know the answer to that question. My mother believes in fate. I only know, in my young age of life that love requires compromise and the willingness to give. What if your one true love does not love you? What happens to you then? Do you live life alone for the rest of your stay on the planet? That would be quite a sad scene. 

Bird observations at the park

Today I got up early.
Around 7 to slowly inch towards the park.
In an attempt to focus my concentration.

The weather was cold,
the sky filled with grey-blue hanging clouds.
In my drawstring bag, I had a raincoat, bananas,
my bottle, notes, keys and my wallet.

My head was freezing but I felt happy.
My nose was cold but I didn't care.
I hummed along my way to the park.
Being mobile never made me happier.

I saw a bench as I entered the park.
I wanted a view with the lake so I disregarded it.
Ventured in further and found the perfect spot.
A bench under a shade facing the shining lake
and many types of birds.

Two black swans approached me.
I was nervous. Could they smell my bananas?
They came as close as half a metre
and was trespassing into my territory
 until I moved my crutch from my right to my left.

Science thought in process:
Their vision would have
the same 180 degree plane view as fishes do.
So if they were staring straight at me,
it would mean that I was in their blind spot.
However, they actually turned their necks
and glared at me to spook me out.

There was an old man at the bench beside me.
Three black swans appeared out of nowhere and
he started talking to them, saying:
Hey there! How do you do? Walk towards the pond!

That made me feel insignificant.
Why am I afraid of these birds?
Why can't I just coexist with them
without attempting to scare them away?
I have decided to do something about my fear with birds.
There are many things that I can be afraid of.
Birds should not be one of them.

Then there was a rather cute Ibis.
It ate a stone and nearly choked itself.
As the stone rolled down its beak,
it tried to crush it into pieces but somehow failed.
However, it ate the same stone for a second time
and choked itself again.
This time, it managed to chokingly swallow the stone.
Ouch.
It stayed put for some time before ignoring me
and walking off in a straight line.

My thoughts:
Ibis, How are you ever going to excrete that out?

The cockatoos were all cute looking,
resembling white parrots with fancy blonde hairdos
with very loud sore throaty voices.

I was gazing randomly at the lake and thought:
It would be unfair if the Ibis could swim as well since
it walked pretty fast and could fly a distance.
Hence, I observed the birdies present
and came to a conclusion:
Ibis cannot swim.

They just fly over the water
and land themselves on the ground.
Keep in mind that the next time one is attacked by an Ibis,
remember to immerse yourself completely in water
since they can still swoop down and attack you.

With support comes strength

20/04/2014

It was dark.

I was rushing.
Mind too pre-occupied with unbalanced accounts.
All of a sudden, 

As I skipped high above,
I felt myself plunging downwards.

The next minute,
half of me was sprawled on the floor.
My ankle was hideously twisted,

my jeans had a big gash on it,
the flesh beneath and palms scrapped bare.

I was in a state of shock.
My phone was strewn to one corner of the pavement.
I looked around. There was no one.
I started perspiring because of the pain.
I glanced towards the direction that I came from.
Would anyone come out any time soon?
Slowly, I closed the gap between my legs.
The process was excruciatingly energy consuming.

A car passed by.
I was slightly dizzy. And teary.
It hurt quite a bit.
The feeling of aloneness left me even more vulnerable.
Luckily, one of my friends was waiting for me to cross the road.
And crossed the flower bushes to see why I went missing.
 I was found on the floor.

I was driven back home with a bag full of ice.
A few hours went by.
I sent a text to my brother who is experienced with twisted ankles.
And waited for a reply.
Googled emergency aids to do in an event like this.
However, my ankle continued to swell at an alarming rate.
I was dragged to the hospital.

The wait there was long.
I was at the bottom of the triage list and had to be put on hold for a few hours.
An X-ray was done after me relenting to my health
and ignoring the fact that my budget was going to be blown.
No major bones were broken.
The radiologist was supposed to come back to me for my results in a few days time.
I went back with a prescription for paracetamol to contain the pain and a pair of crutches.
The nurse Marlene is a really caring person.

I was on panadol for about three days.
My ankle looked like a bloated pig foot
that fell into a bucket filled with rainbow paint.
It was blue, green, brown, red, purple, black, yellow, green.
I could feel it becoming stiff and tried to do the 'trace the alphabet' exercise.
I thought I was doing good.
Too many days passed that I was convinced that the hospital forgot about me.
I had to call the radiologist to confirm about my x-ray results.
Luckily there was no broken bones.

People from the place I am staying
showered me with attention and care, food and love.
Someone got a person to massage my leg on the second day.
I think it made my condition worse though.
But I do not know how to say no to caring people.
So I kept quiet and sobbed in pain when I was being massaged.

My ankle was not getting better.
My lecturers wanted a medical certificate for my leave. 

I was stressed out.
I made an appointment with the clinic in uni.
My assistant warden dropped me off.
I hopped along school with my friend and got my foot checked.
The doctor had to call the hospital's general line twice 

to obtain my X-ray diagnosis.

I find the healthcare system in Australia 

to be very disparate and ineffective.

The doctor said: You're in a pretty bad condition.
You're sore all over. 

I can't do anything for you now.
You should go to the physiotherapist first

and then come back in a week
for me to issue you a referral

to get a MRI scan if it's not better then.
I was given Advil, an anti-inflammatory medicine 

and a smaller tubigrip to compress my ankle.

Subsequently, I made an appointment with the physiotherapist in uni.
I had a two hour gap that suited me fine.
I somehow managed to hobble over
quite a distance in half an hour.
And waited. And felt sad. And lonely.
Adding to that, I was also sleep deprived.
I had not been able to sleep for three days then because of the pain.
Panadol just did not work any more.

I did not have the mood to study for my test 

that I was planning to sit for later in the day.

I went for my session and was told that if I do not get better by this week,
then it might mean that the ligament joining my leg bone 

to my ankle (AITFL) was torn,
and that would require surgery.
That brought my day to its lowest point.

What more, my ankle was already in a plantar flexion position.
The term refers to a stiff ankle that cannot be straightened to a 90 degree position.
I sat there in the clinic, messaging people. 

I gave a ring to my lecturer intending to ask him about the test.

I was not up for it. 

He picked up on the second ring and told me to sit for it.
I was instructed to hobble over to his far away office.
And I did. 

He felt bad when he saw that I was not lying.

I did my exercises religiously every morning and night.
I wanted to get my ankle back.
I tried and tried but it would not straighten itself.
I had to concentrate so much to ignore the pain, even with the painkillers.

The 'pull your leg forward with a towel exercise' was much easier than the other.
I had to try to ground my bad foot to the floor for five seconds, thirty times each day.
It hurt lots. I cried many times in my room. I was out of breath by ten counts. 

Caring people were the source of my strength.
Especially when I did not know the condition of my ankle.
I did not want to undergo surgery.
I was unsure how long I would be on crutches
if I had to do it.
I recalled how I told myself that
I would not be on crutches again
after the meniscus tear that I had five years back.
But life happens.
I missed numerous people. I was cared for by many too.
I felt blessed.

I went back to the physiotherapist on Friday and 

was still unable to do anything with my ankle.
He suggested that I go for a MRI scan.
I called the clinic up and was notified that my doctor was away.
The clinic was booked full until next week.
I could not wait and got the physiotherapist to give me a referral letter instead.
An education attache sent me to the imaging centre.
It was quick. 

I waited for a few hours until I called my physiotherapist 

for the breakdown of my results. 

Good news was that I did not need to go for surgery.
Bad news was that I ruptured one of my ankle ligaments,
had a major tear or ruptured another one,
moderately tore my tendon ligaments, 

sprained two others and had a whole lot of bone swelling all over.
Mind you,
this was a report after two weeks from the incident.
My physiotherapist sounded apologetic enough 

for treating me roughly earlier on.

Ruptured?! I hid myself in the room.
I panicked. It means that I tore my ligaments completely.
How were they going to heal back to their normal state?
I would not be able to run like usual.
I would need to hobble slowly for a very long time.
I would probably trouble people lots.

Ruptured. Completely torn. 

I got scared.
I stared into space for some time. 

Wept into my pillow.
I set a time to compose myself before dinner.
There was an hour and a half of allowance time for me to be sad.
One of my friends spotted the teary me.
I put on my positive hat and numbed my thoughts.

Over the days,
I tried to read about tears and ankle damages.
I winced every time I looked through the articles.
Life was not too colourful then.
I did not skip my exercises.
They were supposed to make me better.

I became reliant on others for my stuff.

That was so unlike me but my movements were restricted.
My leg throbbed and tugged each time it was moved because
the swell in my foot was affecting my tendons.
I iced it more and elevated it. It helped tremendously.

I was scared. Still am. 

I've gotten better over the weeks. 

My progress has impressed the physiotherapist.

My friend sent me to school this week.
I have lots to catch up on.

One of my tutor refused to give me tutorial answers 

because she thinks that it would be unfair to other students.

Weird.

I can take baby steps now. 

My ankle still vibrates on its own if it's not taped.

But that's to be expected of. 

After all, my rubber bands have been cut apart.

I have to keep reminding myself to not overexert myself.

The other day, my foot was so warm for a very long time.

Even after me icing it with my cold pack. 

I feel sorry for troubling people
but they do not seem to mind.

I am thankful for them.

I am grateful to have my family.

I am proud to be me. 

I have asked for hugs
when I needed them to be strong again. 

Yes, I have cried in worry and impatience
but I am trying to overcome them.

More specifically,
I convey my deepest gratitude to my brother

who has been my pillar of support. 

I will be patient and recover slowly but surely. :)

A change of weather

With the sky over here being grey with overly weighted, charred cotton candy and swapping faces with the sun in an instant to glare red right smack in front of you, one can't deny the fact that nature is unpredictable.

Have an umbrella with you.
Pocket a raincoat.
Pack yourself up with Vitamin C.
Sleep well. Sleep enough if you are busy.
Take your mind out for a walk.
Talk to ducks and bats and trees.
Remember that food is an enjoyment.
Give prayer to the chicken on your plate.
Read a book or two to liven up one's dying brain.

Oh and going back to the topic, be adventurous and go on out even if it threatens to pour, because it might not rain and the sun might peek out shyly from behind the clouds after all.

Lady by the Pond

I went for a jog today.
A painfully slow 5-6 km jog.
As I jogged, I figured I should somehow try to learn footy too.
So I observed the girls and guys on the field.
Not for long though.
I have after all, wiki-ed the sport before.
Meh.

I brisk walked through the pathway, wanting to get home soon.
For food and my top-up card.
Then I saw a lady by the pond...
feeding the ducks and the rest of the birds
with ... well, I couldn't see what then,
but as I moved closer to her...
I saw that she was feeding it with bread crumbs!

I manoeuvred my way towards her.
Slowly and not so stealthily.
I did not notice that there was a big hole in front of me
and accidentally sprained my ankle a teeny bit.
Armed with my weird feeling ankle, I decided to survey
and walk around the area until she noticed me.
And I roamed around until I made eye contact with her and she smiled!

Yes! I was jumping on the inside!
She wasn't hostile and she didn't seem to indicate that she needed alone time.
So I went closer and she asked: How're ya doing?
And our conversation started.

Her name is Kimberly and she works in Surry Hills in a restaurant called the Nomad.
She's had one of those days and well, needed a run and a break from things.
Her boss's wife is an amazing architect who turned a warehouse into something mind-blowing.
Her boyfriend seems like a sensitive and caring sort of person.
And lots more. I feel as though I'm being extremely intrusive by telling you all of these things so I'm going to stop here.

We talked about how animals are sometimes better than humans.
We fed different varieties of birds.
I especially liked the white fluffy feathered, orange feet ducks.
Then there was this cute little brown fellow with a little orange dot on its forehead that was so daring, it came so close to peck the bread from our hands.
A magpie appeared out of nowhere and took some of her bread too. However, this one wasn't quite as tame as the rest. It looked like a raven that flew into a can of white paint.
There was this other type of bird that had an owl's face. Though it had a tiny body.
Birds. :)

As the sky turned darker, a whole flock of humongous bats flew by.
Quite a lot of them dipped their feet into the pond.
It still is a question mark to me and her as to what they were doing.
Most of them were heading home.
All of a sudden, my friend spotted something in the water.
We stared at the murky water in anticipation that something might jump out.
Nothing did. We saw a really huge fin though. It could have been an eel by the length of it.
I told her about the fruit bats at home and how cute they are.
She told me that her friend had to kill a badly injured bat with her slippers once to shorten its sufferings.
We talked about different sort of cuisines too :)

Eventually, we had to split ways and I ran back home, satisfied with today.

Can I talk to you anyway?

"You know I'm not really here, right?"
"Can I talk to you anyway?"
... Iain Thomas...

This is exactly what passed my mind when I was lost in this city eight months back.

As I sat at the altar, taking shelter from the piercing and far from friendly sun, I stared in irritation at what seemed to be a very gentle looking statue.

I've always loved stained glass. At certain instances, I took a break from the glares I was giving Mother Mary and immersed myself in the amazing gloriousness of coloured light rays shining in. Diffraction of light in different mediums: dust, paint, clay. Dust shimmers never fail to remind me of fairy pathways that lead to Neverland.

Snapping back to concentrate on my feeling of dejection,
I said: "Why are you doing this to me?
I don't really care if you are there or not.
I am going to complain and
you are going to listen."

I vented out my frustration whilst frowning and pouting and making weird faces.

After which, I sat back and looked at Mother Mary in silence.

"What do you want me to do now?" I asked.

And stared some more; for quite some time.

And somehow came to an answer.

Magically enough.

I walked out that day ready to brace impossibilities.

Facebook Phobia

Dear all,

Please do not be alarmed at my disappearance on Facebook.
The unseen pressure of notifications and alerts
that were popping up like mushrooms
growing on a well decayed, moist tree bark
pushed me far away from the social networking site.
As you all are well aware of,
my lazy nature is in full swing right now.
However, I will force myself to go on the website
in about ten days time.
Kindly contact me via other channels
if you urgently need to seek me out.

Sincerely,
Me.

Amnesia, in real life as in movies.

The normal questions that one asks oneself would be:
What if I died the next day?
What would I regret to not have done in my lifetime?

Okay, these questions are kind of morbid when you think of them
but they help motivate people to live life to the fullest.

Just like how Britney and Sam got married
in one of the Glee episodes because they thought that
the world was coming to an end since the Mayan calendar said so
and that everyone was going to die.

Just joking.
One should still suppress the crazy urge to attempt everything
and stop at nothing at all because
keeping all your eggs in one basket
is a risky and irrational thing to do.
Except during exceptional times.

The not-so-normal question that I have encountered recently is:
What if I woke up to find myself in a far away country to
be informed that I have lost part of my memory,
with the damage incurred by certain parts of my brain
still left un-diagnosed,
and that my life has been fast forwarded by three years?

Let's say that I got stranded in a hospital in Heatstrokeland
and all that I remember is that
I am supposed to be doing my A-levels
in Foodieland with a bunch of crazy classmates,
How would I react to my bizarre situation?

What if:
(1) All of the visitors who drop by my hospital room
say that they are my friends but seem like strangers to me.

(2) I miss home but the doctors say that
I need to be hospitalized for further medical investigations.

(3) I need my family because I recognize no one else
but they just are not able to come to my immediate rescue
because there are no flights available.

(4) People tell me that I have a boyfriend and that
I am being sponsored for my studies
but I cannot recall a single thing
because my dead neurons refuse to come back to life.

And the list of worries goes on and on.

I have come to a conclusion that despite my confusion and fear,
and my large Bambi eyes
that may constantly glitter with tears of frustration
hidden by my overtly large spectacles besides me
showing symptoms of continuous edginess due to unsettled nerves,
if I ever happen to have amnesia in my lifetime; I would:

(1) Go with the flow and attempt to take things one at a time.

(2) Understand bits of my life that sound alien to me.

(3) Know that this might be God's way of
giving me a second chance in life.
(What if the future me sacrificed relationships
because I turned into a self-indulgent, selfish workaholic
with only a materialistic notion of success planted in my brain?)

(4) And cry very loudly to prevent myself from going crazy
at the very thought of piecing my life back together,
with or without help from others;
because familiar faces would have moved on with their lives
and strange people are the only ones who are left close by.

Note of caution to self:
Do not ever try to knock yourself real hard on your head
with a baseball bat to remove a blood clot that is preventing
the resurfacing of lost memories as shown in TV series.
A living person might turn into a veggie or die off pretty easily.

The Down Under Camp ( a scribble of the final day)

I laughed at a boy when he said that his name is Buddha because I thought that he was joking. His friends vouched that his name was Buddha and penetrated me with stares that made me shrink in guilt and shame. Who am I to actually be bewildered and show my amusement of a person’s name directly in front of him/ her? I paused my brain activity for a moment and rekindled a certain fibre of my neurons that went: Accept everything as it is. When the next boy came in telling me that his name is Ozil, I believed him and immediately wrote his name on the ziplock bag that was being used to store the tie-dyed shirts. Even though his friends eventually told me that his name is Muhammad. After all, I should be able to abide to a person’s frugal wish by addressing him with whatever name that he prefers.

Fikri from johor who is currently studying in Queensland for commerce is a professional at tie-dye. He showed me lots of ways to create different patterns on fabrics, even the butterfly one. I am going to get a cheap, long singlet to experiment soon.

I still have a certain barrier towards unusual people. I met a Japanese person who was slightly weird so I decided to keep a slight distance away from him. I have not so long ago decided to follow my animal instincts when needed because it proves to be right, most of the times.

Evelyn from Victoria is an amazing person who is in an environmental club, Disney club, Malaysian club and another, I forgot. She knows about anastacia and the discovery of what actually happened to her whole family. Another childish soul who gets excited at the thought of lava lamps and artsy stuff.

JoWen (JingWen) Khoo and Sandy Lau are both from ACT. Amanda is studying in USyd and thinks that she should use me as her role model. I told her that that is a bad idea since I’m such a lazy person. It feels slightly weird for her to think of me as an independent sort of person.

I am feeling content and cheerful even though I met up with so many people. My veins are strained and my feet are numb. However, I feel at peace with myself. What happened to all my loner qualities? This is terrifying.

Sarah gave me her sand art after I said that I was sad that I could not do it this time. I told her that it has been a long long time since I last did it. She immediately presented me hers for me to keep as a remembrance of her. I for one, was really proud of my present and started showing it off immediately. She gave me her mobile phone number and granted me her permission to call her. Reminder: Text sarah and tell her to do her homework, even though she hates English.

I asked one of the girls about the ring on her finger and she told me that it was passed down from her late mum. I wondered then if I should continue talking and asking them random questions like this that would cause awkward situations to occur. I decided to chat like normal. It is after all, too difficult to avoid sensitive topics.

It was heaps of fun talking to the refugee ladies non-verbally. I tried understanding them but they were talking in Persian only so I decided to parrot after them. I repeated: Rangoli? One of the ladies heard me and started pointing at me while laughing. Then she decided to get her son over to do some translation for us. Haha.

I still can’t wait to go back home though. :")

Birthdays

My birthday falls on the 8th of January each year.

It has been to me:

A day of reflection.

A day of separation.

A day of gratefulness.

A day of thankfulness.

A day of cake-stuffing.

A day of smiling.

A day of presents.

A day of hugs and kisses.

A day of intrusion.

A day of frustration.

A day of wistfulness. 

A day of hopefulness. 

Looking back, my birthdays have been pretty amazing.
They could be compared to the blue skies that hold
a thousand vibrant coloured helium balloons,
some flying lower than the rest.

I decided to postpone my birthday this year.
Since I was busy taking care of my paathi
who was admitted to the hospital
and going for camps whilst interning at an office
slightly further away from home.

My rationale was that:
Any day can be my birthday.
I'll just pick one that suits me best and
celebrate it as many times in a year as I want.
It is my birthday after all.

I also decided to splurge on cakes for one whole week.
However, my lethargic and flabby body told me to spread out
my treat of seven cakes over a period of one month
instead of eating them consecutively for seven days.
Chocolate brownies and a few slices of black forest
are resting in my tummy as I write.
So far so good, cake triumphing promise.

Paathi told atthey to call me up for my birthday this year.
They attempted to call me up three times.
I called atthey back at 10.15 pm to find out that
paathi was still not asleep yet.
Just because she wanted to tell me:
"Happy Birthday to you"
in person via the telephone.

Thank you Paathi.
Your wish has been crowned as
the warmest birthday present of the year.