Why Do You Have to Grow Up So Fast, Baby Girl?

She has been watching me drive for the past 2 weeks. Been asking how to switch between the gears, even asked what she has to do with her feet at the pedals.

When I asked her why, she said she will drive me around instead when she's big enough.

Tight thugs at my heart hearing that. So much love and responsibility coming from a small body.
What did I do to deserve this much love?

Yesterday, she asked again.

But this time, it's how to stop the car. She asked if I used my right leg to step on the pedal to put on the brakes. Such observation. I nodded, felt the hard thug again, looked into the big brown eyes and smiled. My baby girl has such a big heart, and I feel so undeserving to even take up a small part in it. She smiled back, and turned her head to look at the road as if feeling very proud of herself for getting it right.

Why do you have to grow up so fast, baby girl?

I was holding you in my arms some near 5 years ago and now all you're thinking is driving me around in return.

It was like yesterday that you learnt your first word. It was like yesterday you crawled to get to me. It was like yesterday that you grew your very first tooth.

And when I woke up this morning, you can sing almost every latest song on the radio. You walk, you run, you dance shamelessly in public, enjoying life as how we adults fail to.

And one day I know, oh I so know, baby girl, I will wake up on your wedding day, wishing that you are still the baby girl I hold so tight when my heart hurts.

And I know that on that day, I could hear your sweet little voice singing soft lullabies to your bears. I'd see your wicked smile, looking all charming to get something of your wants. I'd feel your small hands grabbing me by the arms, hugging me from the back, holding my hand just because.

And I know, baby girl, I will miss your fluttering kisses you'd give me at the school gate and the hidden waves you throw when I drive off.

Why do you have to grow up so fast, baby girl? Mama can't catch up with you.

Do You Have a Shadow Following You?

Do you have a shadow?

One that follows you around, putting you all in guilt all the time?

Because you know that you shouldn't have done it, but you did anyway?

Like whispering a bestfriend's secret to someone who shouldn't know about it, or like badmouthing a colleague yet pretending to be a buddy?

*GRIN*

Yeah, I know you do.

Doesn't it make you sick worrying if the person you whispered the hot gossip to actually confront and tell that person that it was you who spilled the bean? Doesn't it haunt you to death that actually your exact words would come to the ears of the one you badmouthed so badly? Doesn't it make you wonder how tomorrow will be like when you have to face that person you gossipped?

Well, enough with the worrying already!

If you are afraid of being confronted with your own words, then quit gossipping. Or if you still want to be the Daily 10, then face up to the fact that you may be used against your own words.

Eliminate hypocrisy in your dictionary. If you don't like anything about a person, tell it straight. Why must you make yourself look good and spread the wildfire? Why must you create a shadow that may follow you around and make you restless all the time?

And the worse thing is, with the shadow hanging by your toes, it makes you think that others are doing the same to you!

So do me a favor, quit it already, ok? Don't make me feel like I'm on top of the world laughing at you.

Though it does feel nice knowing that I am a better person than you are.

:)

No Idea...

The big word for tonight is 'responsibility'.

A friend wrote on his Facebook status that he was on half day leave to care for his wife who was feeling unwell. Regardless of praises by his female friends, he just said that it's his responsibility. But women don't see it that way. It's not a responsibility; it's what you'd want to do for someone you love. It's what you want to sacrifice, knowing that your presence is very much appreciated in times of uncontrollable shivers and splitting headache. It's not responsibility, it's love.

Responsibility is something you have to do, you are obliged to do, in the capacity that you can do.

Responsibility is something that you have to do, no matter the degree of you liking it or hating it.

And responsibility is the one word abundance in my life.

Less one - towards myself.

I never tended to my soul, I never cared for my skin, I never cared if my beautiful eyes have dark bags hanging from them.

I fail to be responsible for myself, when I very much try so hard to fulfill responsibilities put upon me.

My responsibilities are like the IN tray, with none ever making it out. They seem to keep piling one upon another. They add weight to the shoulders; they draw more lines to the face.

With no one even bothered to understand, let alone offer a helping hand or two, things seem to be too heavy to carry on this fragile frame.

And after all these years of carrying responsibilities on my own, I can't help but feel deeply hurt that I am accused of slacking my responsibilities, just because I'm fulfilling responsibilities to my own body and soul.

Is it not enough that I sacrificed? That I tried my best to run the show all by myself?

That I have left my soul to wilt so that I can have other souls to green?

That I let those beautiful smiles I once had slowly turn into forced grin?

Am I not responsible to turn myself back to who I was before?

So, let me be.

It's not that I neglect my IN tray. It's not that I slack my routine.

I just want to be the one responsible for me.

Oh, Malunyerrr...

"I turn my head to the east, I don't see nobody by my side,
I turn my head to the west, still nobody in sight,
So I turn my head to the north, swallow that pill that they call pride,
That old me's dead and gone, but the new me'll be alright.."

My favorite part of my favorite song during every 4.5.

Every time this part comes, I'll be singing it out loud, as if to release all burdens from my shoulders.

I always make sure that no one is behind me, in front of me, or that I'm walking past a house with its owner out gardening.

But one day, I kantoi...

I was belching the words out, relieving all of the day's tensions, putting much passion into every word of the chorus when... a makcik holding orange plastic bags stood staring at me on her front porch. She had the look of curiosity on her face, no impending smile, more like disbelief. It was as if I was yelling for help or something.

As I drew an apologetic smile, her daughter emerged out of nowhere with the look of dismay. Oh goodness! Was I THAT loud?

I kept the apologetic smile (more like a smirk, I'd say) on my face for a while, shut my eyes as I passed both irritated mother and daughter and increased my speed.

Tebal giler rasa kulit muka... felt like burying my head in the sand like ostriches do.

But will I quit singing out loud during my 4.5? Naaaaah.... Try hover around Taman Melawati weekday evenings - you'd probably catch me doing Jai-Ho on an empty Jalan Melawati 2!!

:D

P/S: Jokes aside, ostriches don't actually hide their heads in the sand... I checked Wikipedia on that already. :P

A True Altruism

I passed a fellow jogger who slowed down his pace as he was approaching one of the roundabout's turning. He waited for a car to pass by. He seemed as if he wanted to cross the road. After a few steps, I took a swift turn of my head to see what he was doing. He was picking up a significantly-lengthed narrow piece of wood that was lying on the road, took it to the roadside, and left it on the grass. I managed to throw him a big grin, a sign that actually meant "Bravo" more than anything else.

Altruism. A word I hardly grasp the first time I learnt it in PPP.

Until now, I can only imagine altruism in masses - people helping someone in need, say, like helping accident victims.

But today I realized that that fellow jogger was committing altruism - an act of unselfish regard for or devotion to the welfare of others - without actually needing anyone to know what he did.

He had picked up the piece of wood from the road so that no motorist could run over it or get hurt by it. He picked it up because he knew it would cause danger to people who are strangers to him. But these strangers need not know that he had actually saved them. He needn't have the whole Melawati population know that he has done a good deed. He couldn't care if I didn't write about him.

Such noble thing. A true altruism indeed.

:)

A Great Ride...

The year was 2005.

It was a much dreaded assignment. I was to lodge with a total stranger, for 10 nights. If you know me well, you'd know that despite my laser-sharp thoughts, easy-lashing verbal-ability, I am actually a person who hates breaking ice with strangers.

Then, there were the neighbors from the adjoining room. 2 more strangers. Didn't help much that one of them was the boss' daughter.

It was my second assignment away from the family, but the first that took more than a couple of nights. I was immediately missing the girls; the thought of them waving goodbye at me at the airport brought hard tears I tried to hide from everyone. Being in a room with a stranger helped made tears come extra easy that night.

We broke the ice with a loaf of bread and a bottle of ready-made chicken curry I bought at Giant the day before, dipping the bread pieces into the curry, talking away on general matters. I remember we were loud, maybe both of us tried to hide our nervousness.

Later into the night, the neighbors came back. They crashed in, much to the happiness of my roommate. The connecting door was to be left ajar, I squirmed at the thought of free-flowing strangers into the room. Oh heck, since we were the only 4 ladies on that assignment, we might as well have some bonding sessions.

I was pretty amazed that it only took me one night to get used to the loud laughters, continuous giggles, annoying wake up yells. I was looking forward to the girly screams and the synical comments. It was like living in a dorm - something I never had in my schooling days.

It was that 10 nights that started a mutual friendship between the 4 of us.

Although we are not as close as high-school buddies - we rarely share life stories or growing up moments, we are able to accept each other as we are - loud, emotional, talkative, finicky-eater, all the whatnots we are in the world where men dominate.

And slowly but surely, we become one another's keeper. In the not so deep but definitely trusting friendship, we find comfort in each other's company. We fight tears over things that matter most to our hearts; we laugh hard at each other's silly jokes; we reminisce every detail of our journey from then on.

When the girl who was the stranger I had to lodge together with decided to move on with her life some place else, there was no goodbye. We didn't shake hands, we didn't bid farewell. No telling to keep in touch. And it was best that way.

You know why? Because Chiqnuha never said goodbye, never bid farewell, never promised to stay in touch. Because despite not seeing her sit attentively staring at her prized Ferrari laptop, she never left the friendship at bay. In fact, we got even closer.

When Chase finally ended her hushed romance and entered motherhood abruptly, nothing changed. YMs, SMSes had all 4 updated one way or another.

And today, Dydd officially laid her own path, venturing into the unknown but very much satisfying her need to spend time with her newborn baby and her fast growing elder boy. Again, when we parted, there was no goodbyes, no promises to keep in touch, no farewell.

Because even when I know walking into SP Div will never be as kecoh or as kay-poh-chee as before, I know that the 4 of us will still find ways to find comfort in each other's presence - laughing, synically commenting, listening, chattering, just like how it was on those fateful nights in December 2005.

To Dydd, Chase and Chiqnuha - it has been a great ride! Love you all. :D

A Queer Address Where Peace Resides

Funny but the next place I find peaceful is this place. It is where everything seems to move constantly and everyone seems like bees working hard to increase their stash of honey. It is where the only one that seems to be frozen in time is me.

Funny that the bustle gives me a peace of mind. Observing people doing their thing makes me feel like a part of a bigger thing in life. That my world is bigger than just my cubicle; that life goes far beyond betrayals, heartbreaks, yearnings and frustrations.

Whenever I come here, I always pick a place by the glass panel, so that I have a clear view of all the going-ons. I love the feel of cars passing by inches away from me, admiring each one as they pass. I like how the service agents drive around in the cars so confidently into the service bays. I always imagine the cars saying "Yeay, my turn! My turn!", smiling happily because soon their pain and their aches will be healed by the tender touches of the skilled men.

I get fascinated seeing the cars go around with their hazard lights on. It's like saying "Work in progress! Work in progress! Me! Me!". Life is so full of animation if you let it be...

I love looking at the facial gestures of the men at work, how they interact, their smiles, their frown, their look of concern without even moving a facial muscle. It's an ocean of wonder when you explore their emotions. Maybe they have problems at home. Maybe they are lonely. Maybe they are happy. I dunno, like I said, it's an ocean of wonder.

You know, one of the things I look forward to in my daily life is to come here. Sometimes, I'd spend a whole day here and I never fret - as long as I know my baby is taken cared of, not sitting idly with no intended attention.

But it's not just the bustle at the service bays that make me feel like one ant standing on earth, being seen from the Hubble telescope. It's the sound of dot matrix printers printing away on sales invoices, the ringing of PABX phones, the sound of a National Geographics documentary, papers being flipped, phone conversations, everything. It's like sitting lost in time when everyone seems to have a purpose in life and there you are just enjoying every second of your life with no deadlines to meet and no pains to heal. It's like God watching over His creations - with full contentment and no expectation (because He knows everything goes as He says it will).

And it feels beautiful.

Until the Service Advisor comes and present me the bill...

:D

Why I Wanted to Cry Last Friday

Let me just say it's not easy. It's not easy for me to accept criticism. There you go, one direct shot - my confession.

So if some of you had wondered why I was so emotional last Friday, especially with the obviously-too-obvious Facebook status on Friday - then let me clear it for you: It's all about me being an emotional person.

But hey, can't you give me credit for admitting that I am passionately emotional about my work? Hell, if there's anything I can control in this world, it's what I get to feel about things I am passionate about. Unfortunately, in the environment that I am stuck in at the moment - being emotional comes as a full stop. Emotional. Full stop. Don't work with her. Full stop.

Ever anyone question why she is emotional about her tasks? "Oh, who cares! She's just an emotional person, difficult la work with her... sikit sikit nak marah, sikit sikit nak marah... ingat bagus sangat ke?"

Yup, that's what you get when you love something that you do - "Ingat bagus sangat ke?". Then when you get emotional, the rest of the clan move away whenever you walk into the room. You had a row with A, the next thing you know B doesn't want to talk to you, C turns stone cold, and before you know it, Z is looking away whenever you approach him.

See, that 'you' is me. People find me being radically emotional when I work. But people never give credit that whenever I blow it's right there and then. But no, typical of the sawo matangs. The sawo matangs never give due credits. They give credits only if it credits them back. The sawo matangs find one good reason not to work with you and they hang on to it for the rest of their lives.

OK, sorry I exaggerate... Not all sawo matangs are like that.

*Inhale.... exhale.... inhale... exhale...*

But please know that I am A-OK now. No longer feel like crying, no longer choking when I think about what I thought about on Friday. As have many emotions in my life, the emotions on Friday already passed. No doubt they left trails - like a jelly fish's tails - but hey, gimme credit, I am back to myself like before last Friday ever happened.

One thing though, I am no longer passionate about my work. I fear that my emotions will get in the way again and spoil other people's fun.

:P

IT IS OF THE UTTERMOST IMPORTANCE!!!

OK, let me get this out of my system first.

I hope my disclaimer is clear. Everything that I write is mine and mine alone. All comments are welcomed - positive, negative, constructive, destructive, offensive, defensive, you name it, I welcome it.

But... please don't throw stones from my garden and hide behind my trees. I have beautiful trees. They help keep the home cool and provide resting spots for squirrels, birds, snakes and sometimes urban monkeys. My garden is my pleasure - I tend to it, I water it, I call the aya to mow the grasses when they get too long, on and on and on.

Bottomline is, it's my garden and I do as I please.

But I beg you, I beg you not to come into my garden and throw stones at my neighbor's dog. Even if I am holding a barbeque party and there are many other guests around. Let's be civilized, respect the host, OK? If you still wanna throw stones, come to me and tell me. Then we'll see if maybe we can throw stones at the dog together, huh? Let's not spoil the fun, OK?

Deal? :D

Staring at Me Right in the Face

We've had this particular guest in the house for quite some time... oh well, maybe actually it was for about 3 weeks. The guest was kinda elusive, but kept dropping signs like as if saying 'Hi' to the host without even a proper introduction.

But me being the generous hostess, I just allowed the guest to stay without any grumble. I probably in need of space to stay one day and hey, the guest may well be my saviour! :D

I noticed that the guest had this peculiar preference for chillies - dried chilles, cili api, red chillies. Must be decendence of orang nogori, I chuckled once.

About 3 weeks into the stay, the guest started to rouse the curiosity of the life partner. He started to comment on the smell the guest had been leaving behind; I would brush him off saying "I'll clean the place up one day when I feel like it!". But one day the partner could stand it no longer. He cleared up the whole mess the guest had been creating. The poor thing must feel a little unwelcomed by now.

I have never met the guest. And being the sometimes chatterbox I am, I know that in the presence of the guest, I can be stone quiet. True enough... the next day when the guest decided to get us properly introduced, I was caught off-guard!

And the guest picked the best of all times - the rush hour. The hour to scramble and get something fixed to shush growling tummies. And of the best manner - the guest chose to surprise me by sitting contently in one of my containers, looking all sleepy and full as if expecting me to open the kitchen cabinet any time soon. Caught me by surprise he did! Shocked more like it! Wouldn't you when you open a kitchen cabinet and see a RAT staring right in your face? As if saying 'Hi, I'm Ratatouille. I'm your chef for the day!'.

Arrrrrrrggghhhhhhhhhhh.... run!!!

But I didn't run. I didn't scream either. I froze. Time seemed stopped. Sound seemed absorbed. I heard nothing, felt nothing, thought of nothing. Sheer peace, huh? Right...

But now as I am writing this, I thought, 'A-ha! That is what I should do.' Whenever I need a time out, a moment of sheer peace, I should recall the time when Ratatouille was staring me in the face, and freeze myself - hear nothing, feel nothing, think nothing.

What a grand idea!!!

Hehehehehehhehehehhe