Breathe. One step at the time, one smile at the time. Even if you can't remember their names, or where they're from, or at the back of your mind you're wondering why they seem so confident and organised when they're probably younger than you.
Yes, this is what I'm feeling some of the time here. I'm assured it's normal. It would be great, though, not to be normal, wouldn't it? To be able to whoosh in here and be settled in almost immediately. It's probably not best to pressure myself to fit in right away though. But...I can see people trying so hard and it's harder not to do the same. To prove myself. To establish my identity, my friends, my clique...to not have to explain so much.
Another thing that I thought of yesterday as I was drifting into sleep was, I am not here, in a really 'authentic' international, pretty exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime college with a global peace mission initiative even (what else can any idealistic teenager on brink of adulthood blablabla wish for?) to broaden my horizons. It may seem surprising but my horizons are already as broad as the universe and beyond. At least as broad as not ruling out anything that can possibly be achieved in this world. Now is the time to fill in the details, to sharpen the strokes, to colour it in with the most vivid, exciting, wild and interesting pictures and images that I experience.
We each carry the map of our own universe in our heads, and I get the feeling that mine's going to get quite a bit bigger...
*Note: This blog post was written in three different intervals before publishing. That's how fragmented/busy my schedule for this week is! I desperately need a Malaysian...wahh...oh nevermind I chose this myself.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Merdeka Message-A Day Late!
Written 31st August 2007
After reading so many “Young Malaysian” columns in The Star of varying quality, here’s my own say in the matter on the Golden Jubilee of dear Peninsula Malaya (it’s not really Malaysia’s birthday, right?)
“My family…well, we’re an unusual family. I don’t expect you to understand. We’re very different in many ways and we even come from different cultures and backgrounds. We like different types of food and even have different beliefs and traditions. With all this, how can we still live as a family, you ask?”
“It’s a long story that has not really told itself into a neat ending yet. We haven’t been together long enough to really settle into roles that we are comfortable with. At present we’re having an uneasy, fragile truce that They-the Big Men- tell us we can’t talk or ask questions about. They’re afraid that some members might revolt against the status quo and upset the delicate harmony –the yin yang- of our family.”
“Personally, I’m not sure how that works. How strong can our family bonds be if we’re not even willing to iron out problematic issues in a reasonable way? If we aren’t open with our wants and needs, our dreams and hopes for the future; how can we be sure we’re all moving in the same direction together?”
“We’re a nice and loving family from the outside; we like to dress up on special occasions so that other families can admire our diversity and showy monuments and great-tasting food. We hope they won’t look at our perfect picture too closely and see the cracks in our smiles, the ennui in our eyes at hearing the endless empty promises, insensitive comments and grandiose pronouncements of our family’s elected spokespeople.”
“Change things, you say? Well, it isn’t that easy. Sad to say, not everyone’s working for the good of the family. The young and eager who want to often find obstacles in their way, put by those very people who have pledged to uphold the interests of this family. Inefficiency, complacency and corruption in our family is rampant – so much so that some members have disowned us and sought happiness in other families.”
“As a family, we’ve come this far – 50 years we’ve governed ourselves independently and sought a name and place for ourselves amongst greater, stronger powers. So far, I think we’ve done well in material terms. We could do much better, though. We’ve not had much obvious open antagonism erupting into violence for the last 38 years – but is that all we should aspire for? Amidst all our birthday celebrations, this is one of many serious questions we should ponder and decide on together.”
“What does Malaysia – my homeland- mean to me, you ask? Just as I have been saying all along! It’s my family; the bonds that tie are hard to break. And if you believe, as I do, that we are born where we are, who we are for a reason – then, you will know that each one of us is meant to make a difference in our own little corner of the world.”
“Happy birthday to you, Malaysia! All I can give you now is a prayer that this family will keep growing in the right direction and carefully, painstakingly correct the deep-rooted mistakes that we have made along the way. My other prayer is that, if God wills, I may be a part of those who have the same vision to change that far-off dream into concrete reality.”
After reading so many “Young Malaysian” columns in The Star of varying quality, here’s my own say in the matter on the Golden Jubilee of dear Peninsula Malaya (it’s not really Malaysia’s birthday, right?)
“My family…well, we’re an unusual family. I don’t expect you to understand. We’re very different in many ways and we even come from different cultures and backgrounds. We like different types of food and even have different beliefs and traditions. With all this, how can we still live as a family, you ask?”
“It’s a long story that has not really told itself into a neat ending yet. We haven’t been together long enough to really settle into roles that we are comfortable with. At present we’re having an uneasy, fragile truce that They-the Big Men- tell us we can’t talk or ask questions about. They’re afraid that some members might revolt against the status quo and upset the delicate harmony –the yin yang- of our family.”
“Personally, I’m not sure how that works. How strong can our family bonds be if we’re not even willing to iron out problematic issues in a reasonable way? If we aren’t open with our wants and needs, our dreams and hopes for the future; how can we be sure we’re all moving in the same direction together?”
“We’re a nice and loving family from the outside; we like to dress up on special occasions so that other families can admire our diversity and showy monuments and great-tasting food. We hope they won’t look at our perfect picture too closely and see the cracks in our smiles, the ennui in our eyes at hearing the endless empty promises, insensitive comments and grandiose pronouncements of our family’s elected spokespeople.”
“Change things, you say? Well, it isn’t that easy. Sad to say, not everyone’s working for the good of the family. The young and eager who want to often find obstacles in their way, put by those very people who have pledged to uphold the interests of this family. Inefficiency, complacency and corruption in our family is rampant – so much so that some members have disowned us and sought happiness in other families.”
“As a family, we’ve come this far – 50 years we’ve governed ourselves independently and sought a name and place for ourselves amongst greater, stronger powers. So far, I think we’ve done well in material terms. We could do much better, though. We’ve not had much obvious open antagonism erupting into violence for the last 38 years – but is that all we should aspire for? Amidst all our birthday celebrations, this is one of many serious questions we should ponder and decide on together.”
“What does Malaysia – my homeland- mean to me, you ask? Just as I have been saying all along! It’s my family; the bonds that tie are hard to break. And if you believe, as I do, that we are born where we are, who we are for a reason – then, you will know that each one of us is meant to make a difference in our own little corner of the world.”
“Happy birthday to you, Malaysia! All I can give you now is a prayer that this family will keep growing in the right direction and carefully, painstakingly correct the deep-rooted mistakes that we have made along the way. My other prayer is that, if God wills, I may be a part of those who have the same vision to change that far-off dream into concrete reality.”
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Thoughts and uncertainty
I try not to think too much when I start blogging. I know from experience that once you start typing, the words and ideas will just follow. It's a little like jogging. At some point when the legs start to tire and scream for oxygen, just when you think you can't go any longer, you keep pushing on with a certain point to reach in mind willing one foot in front of the other...and very soon, you're there!
~
In Hong Kong, there are many subways, trains, buses, trams and walkers. Generally, everywhere you go there are lots of people. This is a big change for me from sleepy XX but I'm surprised at how fast I get used to it. It does facilitate one of my favourite hobbies though...people-watching. Granted, Chinese people in general are not an attractive race. It's true! Chinese are the most pragmatic people in the world. They breed hardiness, hardworking-ness, frugality and good business sense. Beauty never gets you anywhere (nowadays with the popularity of models and actresses, though, things may be a bit different). As my grandmother once said, "What do you want a good-looking husband for? To display on the shelf?"
~
All the same, people on the trains are not very interesting. They are on standby mode most of the time. Sleeping, cuddling (if they're a couple), tapping away at their PDAs, reading comics, staring into space. Like they'd rather be somewhere else. I wonder if some of these people have ever sat in their own car before. Most likely not if they were born and lived all their lives here. It's too expensive for the average Ah Fook to own a car. Reminds me that I'm lucky to have grown up in a place where single- or double-storey houses are the norm, where food is cheap and less people smoke, where there's food from a few different cultures available at 15 minutes drive from my house.
Makes me miss home a little.
~
I should sleep now. It's getting late and a little cold. Will Hong Kong seem colder to me when my family has gone home, my relatives are on the opposite side of the island, when I'm sleeping in my dorm bed with only my beanie dog for comfort? I don't know. But it's better to take it one day at a time, no?
~
In Hong Kong, there are many subways, trains, buses, trams and walkers. Generally, everywhere you go there are lots of people. This is a big change for me from sleepy XX but I'm surprised at how fast I get used to it. It does facilitate one of my favourite hobbies though...people-watching. Granted, Chinese people in general are not an attractive race. It's true! Chinese are the most pragmatic people in the world. They breed hardiness, hardworking-ness, frugality and good business sense. Beauty never gets you anywhere (nowadays with the popularity of models and actresses, though, things may be a bit different). As my grandmother once said, "What do you want a good-looking husband for? To display on the shelf?"
~
All the same, people on the trains are not very interesting. They are on standby mode most of the time. Sleeping, cuddling (if they're a couple), tapping away at their PDAs, reading comics, staring into space. Like they'd rather be somewhere else. I wonder if some of these people have ever sat in their own car before. Most likely not if they were born and lived all their lives here. It's too expensive for the average Ah Fook to own a car. Reminds me that I'm lucky to have grown up in a place where single- or double-storey houses are the norm, where food is cheap and less people smoke, where there's food from a few different cultures available at 15 minutes drive from my house.
Makes me miss home a little.
~
I should sleep now. It's getting late and a little cold. Will Hong Kong seem colder to me when my family has gone home, my relatives are on the opposite side of the island, when I'm sleeping in my dorm bed with only my beanie dog for comfort? I don't know. But it's better to take it one day at a time, no?
Monday, August 27, 2007
Waiting On Dishes
Going abroad to study feels a little like eating a five-course meal at a posh restaurant when you’re simply famished and wish everything would appear all at once. At this point in time I’ve left behind everyone and everything I know in my hometown. Granted, I’ll be back for a short break in a few months, but it’s a big transition all the same. Thus people have been kind enough to make time and effort to wish me off properly and inadvertly making me miss them all the more just as I have to leave them behind and step into a new phase of life in a new country.
To get back to the food metaphor, I’ve been here in XX for about 3 quarters of a year since I left school; I have friends who will be entering university next February as they had taken a one-year pre-university course. I’ll only be halfway through my first year of college. And college takes two years. I am definitely not speeding up the freeway to adulthold, independence, a single apartment and bills. Sometimes during these few months I felt a nagging irritation that I was wasting away my time; that the only appropriate use of my life at this juncture was full-time study or work. It seemed wrong to have so much free time and spend half of each day sleeping. I could hardly wait for this moment when I would finally jetset into the city of bright lights and marvellous shopping to have the best years of my youth. I was drinking from the salty, tangy bowl of current boredom and listlessness flavoured with a dogged determination to spend every single day well; growing in understanding and passion for God and being continually challenged to rise further; seasoned with underlying excitement and wonder at the opportunity that I had been blessed with and hoping that the experience coming very soon would be everything I had wished for and more.
Now that broth has been sipped dry, I reap the rewards (often undeservedly) of the friendships I have gained in XX both old and new. They remind me that one’s worth is cannot be measured in terms of a degree or loads of money but in kindness, service, love, laughter and shared memories together. They have each, in their own way, expressed how much I mean to them and it leaves me simply lost for words to have such blessings as these.
Now, the tugging seaward and eastward calls to me! I’m still waiting to have the next dish, my main course and I can almost taste the fabulous steak to come. (Sorry vegetarians, but I’m a confirmed meat lover) Every bite of this new and eye-opening experience will be a treasure and pleasure to me. So I wait in anticipation, knowing each second brings me closer to it….
But for now, I’m waiting between dishes; not gone completely, and not there completely. From what I know of food, though, there is no use in complaining that the dish you’re waiting for has not arrived yet. It will, in due time. Till then, I’ll just enjoy the intervening moments, the funny and mixed sensations of growing up and leaving your most dear people and places behind – knowing that when you come back again, you will view it with different eyes, not necessarily better or worse, just…different.
Written 24/8/2007, the eve of my departure to Hong Kong for further studies
To get back to the food metaphor, I’ve been here in XX for about 3 quarters of a year since I left school; I have friends who will be entering university next February as they had taken a one-year pre-university course. I’ll only be halfway through my first year of college. And college takes two years. I am definitely not speeding up the freeway to adulthold, independence, a single apartment and bills. Sometimes during these few months I felt a nagging irritation that I was wasting away my time; that the only appropriate use of my life at this juncture was full-time study or work. It seemed wrong to have so much free time and spend half of each day sleeping. I could hardly wait for this moment when I would finally jetset into the city of bright lights and marvellous shopping to have the best years of my youth. I was drinking from the salty, tangy bowl of current boredom and listlessness flavoured with a dogged determination to spend every single day well; growing in understanding and passion for God and being continually challenged to rise further; seasoned with underlying excitement and wonder at the opportunity that I had been blessed with and hoping that the experience coming very soon would be everything I had wished for and more.
Now that broth has been sipped dry, I reap the rewards (often undeservedly) of the friendships I have gained in XX both old and new. They remind me that one’s worth is cannot be measured in terms of a degree or loads of money but in kindness, service, love, laughter and shared memories together. They have each, in their own way, expressed how much I mean to them and it leaves me simply lost for words to have such blessings as these.
Now, the tugging seaward and eastward calls to me! I’m still waiting to have the next dish, my main course and I can almost taste the fabulous steak to come. (Sorry vegetarians, but I’m a confirmed meat lover) Every bite of this new and eye-opening experience will be a treasure and pleasure to me. So I wait in anticipation, knowing each second brings me closer to it….
But for now, I’m waiting between dishes; not gone completely, and not there completely. From what I know of food, though, there is no use in complaining that the dish you’re waiting for has not arrived yet. It will, in due time. Till then, I’ll just enjoy the intervening moments, the funny and mixed sensations of growing up and leaving your most dear people and places behind – knowing that when you come back again, you will view it with different eyes, not necessarily better or worse, just…different.
Written 24/8/2007, the eve of my departure to Hong Kong for further studies
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Of knots, dishes, and little joys
I like unravelling thread. I like untying knots and cables. Do you?
For me there is a great sense of satisfaction in making order out of something disorderly and messy. Just imagine, there is a mass of knotted electrical cables in front of you. Some loose and some quite tight. You can see at least three colours in the mound. Don't you feel your fingers start to twitch uncontrollably? (Mike and guitar cables are the best. For one, they're big enough so you don't have to use your nails, and unlike rope they won't chafe your hands and make them sore, and unlike thread you don't have the feeling that you're destroying something. But don't get me started on rubber bands twisted tightly around a bag. They will always, by some universal rule, snap on your fingers painfully no matter how carefully you try to untangle them.)
Same thing with washing dishes. Except for washing dishes, there is a stigma and certain repellent quality of it being "housework" that initially stops me from beginning the task. But once it starts it takes on a certain dreamlike/zombie quality. It's just you and the dishes. Mano el disho. And the clinging dirt and oil thats going...away, away! Down the sink into oblivion!
And once you're done-washed your hands, wiped them on a clean towel or shaken the water off with grave finality-there is a sense of whelming (not over-, but just enough to last a few seconds) satisfaction at a job done - for that day, at least.
Why am I writing about this? Has the tea puller gone a little off topic, a wee bit wyeird?
Not really. No one should grow to old to savour little joys. Maybe we can't all run in open hills and smell dandelions (I wouldn't even recognise a dandelion if I saw one) and eat fresh berries in early spring (I want!), but there are ways to make each day a little more bearable. By doing things that make you happy. Simple things that don't require elaborate set ups or commercial forms of entertainment or even money.
Dishes, anyone? I could always use an extra pair of hands...
For me there is a great sense of satisfaction in making order out of something disorderly and messy. Just imagine, there is a mass of knotted electrical cables in front of you. Some loose and some quite tight. You can see at least three colours in the mound. Don't you feel your fingers start to twitch uncontrollably? (Mike and guitar cables are the best. For one, they're big enough so you don't have to use your nails, and unlike rope they won't chafe your hands and make them sore, and unlike thread you don't have the feeling that you're destroying something. But don't get me started on rubber bands twisted tightly around a bag. They will always, by some universal rule, snap on your fingers painfully no matter how carefully you try to untangle them.)
Same thing with washing dishes. Except for washing dishes, there is a stigma and certain repellent quality of it being "housework" that initially stops me from beginning the task. But once it starts it takes on a certain dreamlike/zombie quality. It's just you and the dishes. Mano el disho. And the clinging dirt and oil thats going...away, away! Down the sink into oblivion!
And once you're done-washed your hands, wiped them on a clean towel or shaken the water off with grave finality-there is a sense of whelming (not over-, but just enough to last a few seconds) satisfaction at a job done - for that day, at least.
Why am I writing about this? Has the tea puller gone a little off topic, a wee bit wyeird?
Not really. No one should grow to old to savour little joys. Maybe we can't all run in open hills and smell dandelions (I wouldn't even recognise a dandelion if I saw one) and eat fresh berries in early spring (I want!), but there are ways to make each day a little more bearable. By doing things that make you happy. Simple things that don't require elaborate set ups or commercial forms of entertainment or even money.
Dishes, anyone? I could always use an extra pair of hands...
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Losing ideas, losing people
It's funny. At 3 in the morning when I'm just about to sleep I have plenty of thoughts which seem to me to be brilliant fodder for this blog, but 12 hours later when I sit down to write aforementioned thoughts, they all seemed to have eluded me.
Like butterflies escaped from a net.
Thoughts, sleep-slurred thoughts, come back to me! You look so beautiful in the mist, whispering of hidden potential. A gleam in the twilight corners of my frontal lobe. Though it's possible that if I caught you again and carefully inspected you under a microscope, you would turn out to be so dull, your colours faded, your wings flapping wearily as you consider the troublesome work of sludging through another careworn miserably boring day. Dust and pollution cover your fine wings, your six legs trembling with exhaustion and fear.
That's the problem with lost ideas and thoughts. They always seem grander when they're gone.
Is it the same with our forgotten relationships, then? When we look back, in our distorted memories the chasms were bigger and more menacing, the good times were sweeter but ultimately doomed, the joy laced with pain and bitterness now that we knew what was to come.
This is not a productive train of thought. Blame it on the foul heat that characterises Ipoh weather nowadays.
Like butterflies escaped from a net.
Thoughts, sleep-slurred thoughts, come back to me! You look so beautiful in the mist, whispering of hidden potential. A gleam in the twilight corners of my frontal lobe. Though it's possible that if I caught you again and carefully inspected you under a microscope, you would turn out to be so dull, your colours faded, your wings flapping wearily as you consider the troublesome work of sludging through another careworn miserably boring day. Dust and pollution cover your fine wings, your six legs trembling with exhaustion and fear.
That's the problem with lost ideas and thoughts. They always seem grander when they're gone.
Is it the same with our forgotten relationships, then? When we look back, in our distorted memories the chasms were bigger and more menacing, the good times were sweeter but ultimately doomed, the joy laced with pain and bitterness now that we knew what was to come.
This is not a productive train of thought. Blame it on the foul heat that characterises Ipoh weather nowadays.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Emo post. You have been forewarned.
What happens when you think you’ve given your best, indeed all you have, and yet it is not enough?
What if you are found lacking in the very areas of your life that matter to you the most?
You realise that it’s not enough that you are beloved by God. That you crave to be recognised and appreciated by fellow man as well.
Now, mundane things that occupied so much of your waking time and attention seem so far away.
And you shouldn’t expect someone else to come and comfort you, tell you that you did well, that everything’s ok. That it will be better next time. If there's a next time.
Grow up. You’re supposed to be the caregiver now. Not the care-taker.
What if you are found lacking in the very areas of your life that matter to you the most?
You realise that it’s not enough that you are beloved by God. That you crave to be recognised and appreciated by fellow man as well.
Now, mundane things that occupied so much of your waking time and attention seem so far away.
And you shouldn’t expect someone else to come and comfort you, tell you that you did well, that everything’s ok. That it will be better next time. If there's a next time.
Grow up. You’re supposed to be the caregiver now. Not the care-taker.
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