NaNoWriMo, the 2nd time

Tomorrow's the first day of the eleventh moon in the Gregorian calender. Last year about this time, I checked in here, to state that it was the NaNoWriMo or the official full name, National Novel Writing Month. Then, I had dreamt to attempt my first novel writing, in the spirit of the annual novel writing project month. A year later, but with no novel in sight, here I am again, at my second attempt to write my first novel.

Problem is, I do not know what to write about, that could go that long. This creative project but encourages its supporters to write about 50k word novel! That's a tad too long for my ability to hold through and sustain my idea, if I have any. I'm not making excuses, but really, judging by the postings that I had done here, even at 1k words, it's quite a feat for me. Rarely that my postings go over the .8k mark word, but I'm taking a wild guess here.

A little different in this year, though. With a little time on my hands while swimming in the sea of unemployment, instead of whiling my time away at word games or creating artistically-challenged work of paint arts, or attempting, for the countless time, to create new recipes, or just worrying myself to death, I'm really thinking of giving it a go.

The end result might not be what a good novel should be. It might not generate any interests even to my labrats. Worse, I might not be able to leave the habit of hijacking and abusing the english language while writing it, but heck, that was what NaNoWriMo was created for in the first place. To allow writing enthusiast to let go, jump and take the plunge into depths of this so uncertain yet rewarding pool of literacy.

Furthermore, I really think that it's a good way to practise by writing. Perhaps, this might be the better measurer to check my improvements in writing. Blogging is good, for daily practise of idea generations and linguistic improvements but then again, it's not a good way to check if you can take that one great idea, intertwined it with dozens of supporting ideas and build them into an irresistible storyline. That's my opinion, per se.

So here, I am , stopping short of pledging myself to be part of the swarm of professionals and unskilled writers, trying to jump onto the bandwagon. I do hope by tomorrow, I am on it. Else, it doesn't matter when I get on it, just that by the stroke of midnight on the 30th of this month, I will hop off with a manuscript of 50k word novel in hand. Mine. And hopefully interesting enough to generate an audience and then of course, a little acknowledgment wouldn't be that bad.

ART in cooking

It gave her great sense of tranquility doing just that.

Methodically, she cut the carrot into half. One half she placed on the chopping board while the other went into the plastic container. She took the green capsicum from container and sliced off about a centimeter thick portion before replacing the remainder back to its place. Automatically she replaced the cover of the container and returned it to the fridge. Those would be for later, she had thought.

Washing the three french beans which she had brought out, she picked off the ends and peeled off as much of the veins of the beans as she can. She washed them again and as with the other veges, placed on the chopping board. She took the half carrot and with a peeler, peeled off the skin. She doesn't like carrots with skin. The presence of the fine roots made her feel carrots were unclean. Once done peeling, she cut the tip off slightly.

All the peeling, cleaning and washing done, she took the carrot and the beans and placed them on the counter top beside her. Only the capsicum was left on the chopping board. That would be the first to be diced into small cubes. The capsicum took just a little over a couple minutes to be turned into finely diced pieces. She pushed them all into the bowl nearby.

The french beans were next. She decided they just needed fine slicing. This took slightly longer, as her knife isn't that sharp anymore and the beans were, well, you could say, not that young. The finely sliced beans pieces went into the bowl as well.

Next, it was the half carrot's turn. This required more time. She methodically divided the carrot into two before tackling the first portion. Determined to have them diced very small, she took her time. Slowly, the big carrot stick turned into thin slices which were then turned into very thin strips before ending up as finely diced cubes, probably half the size of a rice grain. She repeated this with the remainder of the carrot. Once all done, she placed these too into the bowl.

She turned around and took a step to the counter behind her. The packet of mince meat was laying there, defrosting since morning. Beside it, another container with the pack of wantan skin sat. She took the mince meat and placed it into bowl. It had not really de-frozed yet, making it look like a soft, lump sitting majestically on top of all the veges.

The combination looked so pretty, she thought, so many colours. Light green, orange, darker green, and then there's the meat colour. She had purposely chosen all those veges to get that colourful combination. Food shouldn't be dull and monotone. But something seemed to be lacking. She thought and looked at her colourful mount. Oh, the onion.

Quickly, she chose the smallest onion from its basket. Cutting it into two, she then peeled the skin off both sides. The onion needs to be just like the carrots, she decided. Automatically, she made slices through half the onion, crossing its grain. She had learnt that technique from the many cooking programmes she watched on the idiot box. Onions get diced faster this way. Once that was done, she cut the onion along the its grain. Immediately, diced pieces appeared. She finished up and continued the same process with the other remaining half of the onion. The onion mount grew on the chopping board as she cut, until finally a mini mount was sitting in the middle of the wooden board.

She gave a few more random cut across the onion mount, trying to make the already small diced onions smaller. She disliked big, chewable pieces of onions, but understood it's important role in making most dishes nice, sweet and aromatic. Satisfied, she stopped and poured this into the bowl. There, that should do it.

I'll let them sit a little while longer, she thought, happily. The cutting skills were certainly improving, along with her creativity. She let herself gloat in pleasure for her amateurish efforts. Art in cooking, she just couldn't stop herself.

déjà vu

She looks at the screen of her laptop. Fingers spread out the keyboard, eyes close, she waits. Slowly, she saw herself, bit by bit, taking shape in her mind.

It looked as though she was seated in a what felt like a chair. A dark grey chair. Somehow, she felt the chair to be uncomfortable. There was not much room. And why had she a belt across her?
She looked around and saw the steering wheel to her right. Immediately, she understood, she was in a car, strapped in the front passenger seat. Whose hands were that resting on the steering wheel? And was she moving? It surely felt like it.
She looked up from the hand, towards the driver. Oh, she thought, it's him. Why was she with him, she wondered. Am I dreaming? Ain't he not suppose to be anywhere nearby? She couldn't answer all the questions in her mind.
Gradually, her ears catch on the music playing in the background. She knew right away what song was that. How appropriate, she thought.
The driver looked at her, and smiled. His grin did not change a bit. The dimples, framing his smile, giving it a naughty touch, appeared. His eyes sparkled. No change at all, after all these years. She mustered a smile back, then turned away and looked ahead in front of her.
She was wrong, they weren't moving. The car was stationary. They were parked somewhere beside a seaside, maybe. It was dimly lit, yet she could see there were many other people around too. Most of them, couples. Sitting, chatting tenderly. She could see the reflections of the half moon in the waters.
He didn't say a word to her, yet. She faced him, again. His eyes closed, he had a peaceful look in his face. So tranquil, so blissful.
She felt a little squeeze. Immediately, her eyes went down to her right hand. His left hand was resting above hers, so lightly. She could feel a sense of security engulfing herself. She let her hand be.
She wondered, why were they here, now. She followed suit, leaned her back on the headrest, and closed her eyes. She felt a sense of déjà vu in her mind.
This is a dream, this must be, she told herself. But why now, again?

Letting a breath languidly, she opens her eyes and looks at the blank screen. With her smile, her fingers start moving ferociously all over the keyboard.

one life-long mission

Good friends really do support you, in all your endeavours. No matter what, they will be very willing to lend a helping hand, as much as they can. This is one of the better traits of the human race. To be able to help and extend a helping hand to those friends in need.

Many a times, friends have been your confidante in gossiping about the someone cute you just saw moments ago. It is friends too, you turn to when you know your performance isn't near enough to get a passing grade. They are the ones you look for too when you just need to pour out your insecurities or when you need company for the countless window shopping trips. Good friends make awkward dinners seemed less daunting, and wearing high heeled shoes a little easier.

These are the people whom you can recruit easily to be labrats if you have experiments do to. They help you taste the oven fresh but sunken cakes, eat up the overcooked vegetables, bite into the slightly burned chicken, gobble down the too hard rice, or simply, just become your experimental students in your newly designed test papers.

Girl friends will help you get into that tight dress in the changing room, or help you out of it. They too will willingly help model it for you or help you to model it. Sometimes, they help you make up your mind, which to get if you are on a tight budget but fell in love with pieces totaling over a month's pay! Occasionally, the better ones help you get a lasting perspective on the clothes by getting a picture of you in it, as a testament of your over-exaggerating.

Good friends make you feel good, feel nice about yourself, push your spirits higher, fish you out of rotten times, bring you back to earth, just be there for you. Offering an ear and a heart, and if necessary, a sound piece of advice.

One should always make it a life-long mission to acquire good friends. It's always never a mistake.

be where you want

Wouldn't it be great to be able to just dumped everything to the background and move to somewhere you heart is longing to go? Just go purchase a one-way ticket, air or ground depending on your preference, and as they say, hop on and get going.

Let the loose ends tie up themselves, if they want to. Else, they will just have to wait till you come back, if you decide to come back. Money or the lack of it should not be a hindrance to doing this, nor should family ties or relationship ties, or whatever ties.

Just pack yourself, your thoughts, your ideals, your conscience, your talents, your indomitable spirit, your boundless energy, your aspirations, your loveliness, your intelligence, your common sense, your openness, your story, and your person as you go. Pretty sure, all those will not exceed any luggage weight limit imposed by any transportation company in the world.

It would be a wonderful experience. A great retreat for the soul, mind, and body. To be able to savour it all, to actual live it, now wouldn't that be great?

Cheers to those who are at the place they want to be!

double dose on silly, funny lessons

It was her overzealous self which caused two funny incidents. The outcomes of both were not good, really, but for her, and a wonderful listener, they were more of silly-funny-no-good rather than silly-depressing-no-good.


Silly-Funny-no-good Lesson #1 :

This is really funny-but no-good that she almost cried. She was not sure how she could have made those mistakes, since time and again, she had read through those letters. She was certain, that each time she read them, the word was there. It had to be there, else she would have noticed it missing from each of the letters. Proofread your letter before any submission, they but carry all the first impression.

What a first impression it made of her! How can there be someone managing humans in a company?!! She just couldn't believe it. It was just dreadful, if she didn't see the funny side to it. For a student bend on teaching english, it was really embarrassing. She could feel her cheeks growing red at that time. If she had one chance to follow the ostrich burying its head in the ground, that would be moment to do it. It was of little consolation that she was alone.

No wonder there hadn't been any response! How embarrassingly funny! She wishes never to be sillier than that.


Silly-Funny-no-good Lesson #2 :
In her eagerness to brush up what little artistic skills that she possess, she had wanted to spruce up the layout of this blog a little. Putting up some pictures, choosing nice colours and fonts to match the mood of each posting and the arrangement of the writings. Simply, this girl had, upon accidental researching, found out that an audience plays a good part in spurring better writings. Since she couldn't really broadcast the existence of her blog in her broad circle, her better judgment thought she could attract unknown people, other bloggers such as herself, to view and continuously visiting her blog. Perhaps she was getting her audience, but she wanted a measure for it. After all, it's just speculation if you can't measure a success.

So she decided to browse for a counter. A counter which keeps track how many times your blog has been visited, or 'hit' as they termed. Finding them was easy-peasy and choosing the nicest is not that difficult either. The most difficult and confusing thing, she found out, was to get it to appear here. Alas, whatever she tried, using scatter brain in techology stuff, it failed. Not even that it did not appear but, somehow, she suspected these trips were the chief cause to her blog being reduced to a monotone for a while. She must have tampered with a setting or two, and failed to revert to the original. Her options buttons was gone! No matter what she tried, nothing came to rescue her blog from it's mundaneness.

Until of course, a bright spark came about. Copy and paste! Why not just copy the settings of a friend's blog and paste it in her blog? What a great idea! She did it, posting her as soon as she could, to test the outcome. But wait! Why still the same? Where are her buttons? In despair, she sulked for a day or two, before the need to post came about. Wait, what is that she noticed while the page being loaded? The many option buttons, they loaded but did not appear. They must be somewhere, they loaded. She tried clicking at compose, and magically they appeared! She cried, in joy! So happy she was that she nudged her friend immediately, sharing with her the good news. Doesn't matter if they were talking about something else at that moment! She just needed to share the good happy news. And of course, her silliness.

Is silence golden?

In my relatively short period of employment, I can't really re-count the number of times that someone has given their acknowledgment or reply to a mail which I had correctly answered or responded to their satisfaction.

First, they will request something from you. Maybe some data, or file, or anything but with very vague instructions. Once you have done them and submitted to them, the first view, more often than not, will evoke new thoughts in them, and then they will ask you to do some modifications and adjustments in order to meet with their sudden spark of creativity. This mail comes almost immediately after you have submitted your work.

You do as wanted, in your best, in your fastest speed, and mail the result. You wait, wondering if the change is alright and suited to what they wanted. You wait. The first 10 minutes passes by, then the next, and then the next. You wonder, so it's all right then? You can but only think that, as there ain't further mail or instructions from them. Nothing comes back, most of the time.

Sometimes, the changes you made were not noticed. You then immediately get another mail, asking for the exact same thing that you just did. You cursed under your breath but still politely, explain where the changes had occurred as per requested. You then re-submit the sweetly worded explanatory mail. Then you wait, for an acknowledgment of their mistake or that they had understood. Again, nothing almost always comes back.

Is silence golden, or in these scenarios, a form of agreement? I have worked long enough to prefer sending an acknowledgment, however brief. It's never best to take things for granted. I dislike being in the dark, being uncertain and definitely would not treat people in the same way. We are so quick to send out negative criticism, however cushioned, but never responsible enough to send a positive acknowledgment. Those that come, are often not quick enough to match the speed of the reproaches we sent out.

Here, I am today, presented with the same scene again. I am now waiting, still, after over an hour, to check if the second submission would be reprimanded. I did provide the requested information, when asked. I had thought she would have functioned in a more professional manner. Perhaps, it is always the same case, even for a very differing groups of people.

Is there any code of professionalism in these cases? Must I again take it for granted that it's all right, the second time around?

:: violin-playing goat ::

I want to be strong.
I hope to be stronger.
For me, myself, my future, my happiness.
Please, I want to find my violin-playing goat!
Be strong, and look for my special goat.
One which can play my tune, for my happiness!

a live coal

Once, this week, I was dealt with a harsh truth. It never occurred to me, until I was told. A keen observer said, I do not inspire security to my partner with my current behaviour and antics. And that is perhaps, in response, whether on purpose or unconscious, why he acts the way he acts now.
It made me think. If what is he doing is in response to my behaviour, however unconscious, isn't that not a healthy communication? It's like retaliating, silently. To say that you are not aware of such, is but a form of not taking responsibility for your actions. Mine was of a conscious decision, after being dealt with what I deemed an unnecessarily vulgar intrusion to my privacy.
Isn't such behaviour the underlining cause to many failed marriages? To fight fire with fire, irrespective of the use of big, flaming hot fire, or slow, hot, live coal, it's just waiting for the other two ingredients to combust and burn. Family might be the oxygen and career ideals maybe the burning material. Whatever the proportions, it will burn.
Then, am I to blame? The catalyst to my behavior and ideals now, is partly due to his outrageously lazy and uncommitted ways towards me. I did not start the fire, I had wanted to distinguish the flame, the heat. Unfortunately, I think, a fire-starter was created in the process, instead. Big burning flame is easily detected, but a live coal, a cinder, is really hard to uncover amidst very flamable conditions.

an attempt in sales pitching

This post is in respond to a question posed by a website, to tell them about your(my) blog in less than 140 characters or less. My attempts to create the so-called 'sales pitch' for my blog :

Attempt 1 : 1546 : 115 words :638 characters
This blog was created initially because I had some extra time at my disposal and also I needed an avenue to place all my thoughts, comments, wordy (un)creative outbursts, and also just to record those moments in my life which I wanted to keep. Then when I started going back to classes, I used this blog as means to improve my english and writing fluency. Occasionally, it becomes my postal service, sending out my 'letters' but of course, the recipients are never here to read them!
This blog is just about me, seeing things from my distorted point of view, while trying to figure how to go about doing something good to the human race.

Attempt 2: 1658 : 128 words :761 characters
Here lies the attempts of a lost soul to keep track of her sanity and record her wandering grey-matters. She tries hard to make a distinction between reality with fiction and dreams with fantasy, but more often that not, caught tangled in between these realms. Aspiring to be a better and more focused student by teaching others, she also wishes to be a better writer by increasing her writing fluidity, expanding her interests, and try hard to lessen her abusive nature towards the mechanics of the english language, she hopes she moving in the right direction by upkeep-ing this blog. Mundaneness and boredom sometimes do serve her grey matter some jail time though, when she's had been a little too pessimistic. No point affecting others with her negativity.

Attempt 3: 1717 : 45 words :216 characters
Here lies the attempts of a lost soul to keep track of her sanity and record her wandering grey-matters. She tries hard to make a distinction between reality with fiction and dreams with fantasy, but more often that not, caught tangled in between these realms.

Attempt 4 : 1723 : 25 words :133 characters
Take a cup of coffee, hide yourself in a comfortable reading spot, put some soft music on and take a plunge into this swirling hole..


p/s: many more feeble attempts to comeby. Hopefully improved, creatively :D

predictions

Prologue :
We humans are so unpredictable, that the weather forecast is an easier option to a god to play with.


Prediction 1: I will grow to be someone successful.
Based on my so-called achievements during my younger days, who would have thought this girl would end up not being a professional, making tons of money, living a good life? Here I am now, about fifteen years later, no job, parasite-ing (if there is such word) with a friend, living off the meagres of almost zero bank, and worse, blatantly abusing the language and its mechanics.

Prediction 2: I know what I'm doing when I quit.
This is so so untrue. I know that I dislike the involvement in developing products, but to say that I know what I'm doing when I quit, is so totally off the mark. I know I quit, what comes next, I'm still finding. It's saddening, but it's fact. I have hope though.

Prediction 3: So long, it's time to get hitched.
This is cliche. I've heard so many times that all I can do is, shake my empty egg-shell head. I want to whack those who say that, but since my head is so fragile, I shall not want to risk having it break, during retaliation. I value the vacuum space, if that's my worth. That said, length of being in something, does not necessarily follow the supposedly right direction. It's the quality, and the focus, and the want. It's time, what time? You deciding my time now, for me?

Prediction 4: I'll be strong enough.
Now, I thought I'm strong and will be stronger, but yet, most of the time, that's not the case. I'm working on it, real hard. Making decisions and then sticking to it, based not on feelings but on objectives and targets and all logical aspects that I can think of. Familiarity breeds content, how so true, and disturbing. Makes us complacent and timid.

Prediction 5: I'm real independent.
How I would love to be. I may generate that idea, when you see me, meet me, talk to me, but unfortunately, I'm so full of insecurities and am so dependent that you would wonder, if and when you find out, why ain't I finding myself in the movie business? Oscar material! Again, another thing that I'm improving on. Towards the best balance of (in)dependency.

Prediction 6: I'll ramble when I write.
This one, is spot on! Can't help but go on and on and on. The sky's the limit and I have scatter-brain disease. So, help me!


Epilogue :
See how many predictions of me that I failed to fulfill. From the above, this post of course, isn't about the human race. It's about me, hence, fulfilling prediction 6. It's life little idiosyncrasies. Unfortunately, some people will need to put up with this daily. Fortunately, the circle is not exponentially expanding. Have a nice day!

my auditors and consciences

If I had ever felt more alive in the past few weeks, this was the week. What started of slowly and slightly gloomy turned out to be not too bad at all. I am glad I made the decisions to ignore something aspect of my finances, momentarily though, and decided to drive all the way to visit friends. Two places I went to, two friends I visited, each from a different period of my life, yet both my two good friends. What a blessing!

Being in the company of good friends can really lift up your spirits. Just the little time spent chatting, sharing, catching ups, simply enjoy each others company is able to bring the brighter of side of any day. Occasionally, so unaware of ourselves and our moods, but yet, so unable to feel alive, and wholesomely happy. It's times like this, we find that we are so grateful to have friends, and appreciate the special bond that we have together. We may not be able to run away from our problems or hide from our worries, but with a fresher and more positive thinking henceforth the meeting, it will surely help us get through the day more energized, spirited, and more focused.

Good friends make time to accommodate your visiting requests, however sudden, however busy they are. No reasons needed, or pressed out from you if you don't want to share. They truly understand, things would be told at the appropriate time. Sometimes, a soul just wants to be a familiar face without any pressure to conform or perform to the rules and boundaries the society around us had, unfortunately and perhaps a little unknowingly, set.

I'm here to say thanks to the both of them, for this week turned out to be better mostly because of them. Also to say thank you to all the friends who had been there for me and supported me all these years that I made my existence in this world. Indeed, I was never short of good, wonderful friends ever since I could remember. And am still not. In each part of my short life, they have been there, listening and showing. My auditors and consciences. My limited language proficiency does not do justice to the feeling of gratitude that I feel towards your role, in helping and shaping me into who I am today.

Making a wish to the bank, I do hope that I am one of the many supporting pillars in their lives too, anytime. It's would never be too heavy, too much, or too little or light. That, is what friends are for.

second chance, please

I wonder, do we get second chances in life?

Is it a question of entitlement, or do we just get as many chances as we want, provided we ask for it? If the first time around, mistake was still made when it could be prevent, are we still open to this entitlement?

I want a second chance in life, to make good, and to be happy. Before, I might think that it's a form of escapism but now, I think it's more of waking up after a long slumber. Living with a focus after a zombie like existence, now.

If there are people who makes mistakes while clearing the correct jungle, I'm sure that others, like me, will only realize they are clearing the wrong jungle, only they are half way there. It's not impossible. What ever the cause, I think that I fall into latter group of people. I wish now, is for a second chance to start good. To move towards the jungle that I want. To use the wrong technique but clearing the correct jungle.

I am asking, may I please get a second chance?

Picture sun®

Picture sun®, life comes into mind. Hope for the new day. Another chance to put forth your energy towards your dreams. A step closer, a yard nearer.

Picture sun®, brightness, hotness, wellness. Colours abundance, glowing, radiating. Illuminating, pushing out the cold, wet, and grey.

Picture sun®, tirelessly staying in orbit, appearing each day. No complaints, just doing good, helping, nurturing the planet's organism.

Picture sun®, so far yet so big. Burning hot yet so needed. At times unseen yet so felt. Quietly in position, yet never unacknowledged.

Picture sun®, giving day, giving night, giving sense of time, of months, of season, of years, of living, being alive.

Sun's here, now. Pictured the sun and painted it. My sun.

no overnight change

I have a question which I am not sure of the answer. What should you do if you find yourself suddenly so out of the place from the things that you thought was important to you before this? I am in this predicament now, I think.

It wasn't an overnight change. It was not sudden, not like what I've come across before, people wake up one day, and they realized they have changed. It was not like that at all, but nearly there, in speed. In the past few months, where I have got time on my hands, and with the occurrence of a few things, I find myself continually being distant with my current reality. Things that I thought I had wanted before this, was suddenly not that important to me. My reality does not reflect my dreams, my wants.

Work must give me satisfaction, and meaning. It must fulfill my needs, give bearing to my life, and yet, make good for others. It's not longer satisfying to just bring money back, and zombie my day through, wasting weeks, fritter months, years of my time. I felt satisfied coaching, training, seeing my girls faces when they suddenly got the understanding. It was satisfying, but it was not daily. It was not my main task, but it will be. Very soon, I hope.

Being with someone, is no longer of importance, if we don't see eye to eye, unable to grow. It must be with someone who motivates me, in thoughts and in speech, and in thinking. Pushing me, when I'm not moving. I realize now, I need that, to be spurred, so that I may go ever further. Else, I think that I'm better of spending the time motivating myself, growing my interest and sowing my hardwork for better quality reaps. I heart me now, more. Spurring me is slower, but I have to do it.

Money was not important, in a way, before. Money was something that came with holding a job, never really pushing for more. Yet, now, I think money, and having a substantially comfortable amount is important. No, it's not that I'm suddenly materially hungry, but I was inspired, yes, inspired to provide more for my family. Seeing the success of my pal or even hearing the plans of my buddy to provide for their families, inspired me. I looked myself, and suddenly saw how lacking I had been in providing for my family. It must be looked for now, much more. I want to get a house for them, and then for me, a cosy, little place where my head and brain may go wild, and myself may have wild get-togethers anytime with my friends.

These weren't overnight thought of, but they manifested themselves very rapidly of late within these few months. How to get them are not very clear, yet, but I have started to see them now, and am working towards unraveling them more clearly. Lay them out, like a mind map maybe, to help me see and guide me. It is surely alot.

People change, I changed, so much of lately, that I wonder, how to handle all these. I certainly do not want my changing causing grievous hurt to other lives that revolve around me, supporting me.

things that I thought to achieve

In this few months of blogging, while I did not get any richer financially, I did hoped to be able to achieve something out of it. Compiling this checklist is a way to audit myself, for I am a human being with very dory-like memory. Here they are, things that I thought to achieve with blogging :

1. Improve my English.
2. Bring down, brick by brick, the writer's block in my head.
3. Get my skills working.
4. Improve my writing fluency.
5. Learn to self-check.
6. Remind myself my penchant for writing craps.
7. Deposits of my thoughts, original or not, fiction or real-life, here rather than dwelling in them in the head, then forgetting them.
8. A way to check myself, to stay sane, self-introspection.
9. Send love notes and thoughts to those dearest to me, since I won't do it actually.
10.An avenue to look back and smile at my silliness, in the future.
11.Teach and be taught.

So far, this is what I can think of. I wonder how many I have fulfilled. This will be updated as often as when I get the spurt of creativity, or when I lose it.

goal

A goal, an aim, a focus, a desire. Whatever you call them, they are they same, in essence. They provide light for us at the end of the dark tunnel. If we focus passionately enough, the glow from this light will not only become clearer, but also illuminate the tunnel more brightly. It will be our guide in our life journey.

A soul without a goal, all its life, is a wasted presence. Wondering and wandering without a focus, it will never reach anything, for it has nothing to reach. It will not get anything, for everything is nothing to it. It sees no purpose nor reason. It is alive, yet, it is better dead.

However, when the first goal is conceived in it's mind, it starts to live. It sees a purpose, an objective. It has a reach, a desire. Its path is now lighted, purposefully unraveling the steps for it to take to get to its goal. If it continues to stay focus, its path will be clearer and brighter. Wavering in concentration, it will start to stumble and slow down. Abandoning, it gets out of the path, put its goal out of reach. As it forgets, it starts reverting to being a mere presence.

A goal is never too big or never could be too small. Never limited to having only one at a time but limited only by the boundaries of the human mind. No time is ever too late, either. All of us should focus on at least one, at all time. Then, we will be alive. Truly alive.

你是我最爱的

你是我最爱的

will i ever have the courage to say this to someone?
will i ever have the opportunity to find one?
maybe, i need to go look for my own opportunity.
maybe, i should go look.

to say to that one person, in full sincerity.
i imagine, i will just feel so blessed and peaceful.
everyone should have this chance,
however short, however remote.

i want to meant it when i say it,
to be true, dug out from the shallow heart of mine,
well, maybe i should go look.
i have but only one lifetime.


ps: thanks, i got those from you, MYalphabets. :)

so be it, me

so be it,
sleep on!
so much about 'let's go!'
so much about 'sure!'

here i am,
waiting, suppressing,
my heads but wants to let go,
unable to contain my building anger!

sleep on!
as always!
why did i fall for it?
but again??!
i should have known better,
some people just don't change.

i want to fly,
somewhere far,
i take myself with me,
leave everything else behind.
i want to go.

here and now,
i am suffocating,
routines and familiarity,
i cannot breathe..

let me the courage,
i want to go,
pursue me, radiate me,
bring with me, one mind,
come back to world anew,
so be it?

never too late

Yesterday, I got a call from an old friend. This old friend will soon be taking the vow of married life, to be forever tied to someone, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Or not. God knows, and that's not the point of this blog.

Well, he called me to personally invite me to his wedding, this Saturday. This coming Saturday. Just about another 2 days away. A little too late on his part to send out the invite, I felt, if I had not known about and had not been invited to it. Confused? Let me clarify.

This chap, well, I blogged about him and his wedding invites before. His invites were literally bombs to all of us, particularly to the circle of my friends. It was out of the blue, no news, no updates, no emails, no chatting, no nudging, no meet ups, nothing throughout the years after we left our undergrad days. Then, voila! The very next call that you received from him, was an invitation to his wedding!

Then, he had personally called up my friends to invite them. That was probably a couple weeks ago, my memory fails me and my laziness controls me. He did not call me, though. Just merely sent me a text message to let me know he was getting married this coming Saturday, and that he would provide more details via email. It was but mass texting, so I don't consider it as personal invite. His email never came around, that time.

Awhile after that, I heard, through a friend, he was looking for my email to send out his e-wedding invite. So, my friend shared the address, and then I got my "more details" updates. Of course, by then, I've already done my share of digging and had roughly had updated myself. It's difficult sending an rsvp to any occasion without knowing a little bit more details other than the date and purpose.

The good of my friends and myself had already decided to attend, together, at that point. Knowing that quick response will definitely benefit the organizer, we even had our ayes mailed out soonest to him. I had thought that would be the last I heard about this and the next thing to do was not to forget and present ourselves there.

So imagine my surprised when he called me yesterday to personally extend his sincere invitation to his wedding. I, in my midst of deep thinking to produce unintelligent rambling to torture my lecturer, was caught off-guarded. I have to admit, it really did not occur to me that he would call, not now, since he had already gotten his reply.

I couldn't guessed who he was without having him telling me. Maybe that is what happens when you call out of the blue using a different number. He sounded the same to me, still his silly self, still having his scooby-doo type of laugh, still talkative for a guy. He made the effort to chat with me. We spoke quite a while, I think perhaps more than half an hour. It was like before, but just slightly more courteous, but not too courteous. After talking for a decent amount time, we bade goodbbyes.

Funnily, he texted me again, after we talked. He wanted to apologize for not calling earlier. In his mind, he had thought that he didn't need to personally me, in the first place, as he mistakenly associated me with my Him, his friend, too. I am not too sure what awoken him to this realization, but I'm glad he called. It's a little unfair, to invite me, sans personally inviting me. He said, I was his personal friend. It's a weird term to use, but I get what he means. Thank you. Never too late, I guess. Never understood, though, why didn't he say it over the phone.

a sudden BETRAYER

A very interesting word crept up when I was chatting with a friend of mine this morning. He told me, out of the blue, that he disliked (to) betray(al). Till now, I'm not very sure what sparked that thought in him, but suspected that it might have to do with something that I wrote to him prior.

As all (good) friends who had not seen or spoke or corresponded to each other in ages, we had chatted about the usual, asking each other's progress, happening, thoughts, his job, and most importantly, I had asked him where he was at the moment. He but is based outstation and holds a position which requires him to travel, extensively.

A sudden mention of his intention of wanting to get married left me confused for a moment, with the first thought running through my mind was "wow! this guy could really keep things to himself!". Until he cleared up, and said he DESIRES to marry. Go figure. A visit to his blog got me poking him on what I think might be his new love interest. Yes, it's my fault if I can't figure out what he wrote in his blog. I'm illiterate in chinese, I have to admit.

Anyhow, we were there, I was there, trying to pry some information out from this guy, when out of the blue, he typed the word, betrayer. Uh-uh. Did I betray him? Was he betrayed? Who's the betrayer? What do you mean, do it once, and only once? Then he went on to say he disliked it, and that he hopes he will never get betrayed. He didn't answer my questions, nor did he offer any explanation. That's about all he offered.

There I was, hard at being a good, concern friend but I think my low intellect is not match for the complexity his brainpower. You disliked betrayal. You hope you will not get betrayed. I think these thoughts are being shared by the masses. Who would want to be betrayed, right? It's unpleasant and very hurtful. Still, I don't get you!

However, sharing that point of view still did not answer it, what spark the thought in the first place, friend? Anything happened, that you cared to share? You saw something? You read something which triggered your braincells? Come on, I'm really curious about it! Who's the betrayer? It will be hard for anyone to trust a betrayer, too. That said, this is not a common word from you. So, who's the betrayer?

Oh my good! Wait! Did you think I am a betrayer? Have you been reading this blog? I am not. Just sometimes, I just need to get things off the head, so that may function better and faster. No extra baggage.

I really do hope it's random thought. If ever I fall victim to that, I wish I have the strength to forgive and forget. Fast. Then, courageously continue my life happily and gratefully, full steam ahead.

power on, power off

Today's one of those days which I think that perhaps, I should have a backup mode of functioning by having a POWER ON/OFF switch connected to me somewhere on myself, instead on relying on my will power, more famously known as self-discipline.

Then, each day, I would enable the back up mode before sleeping. That way, in any case if I taken hostage by Laziness upon opening my eyes in the new day, I could always just to choose to POWER ON myself and start functioning. I would be able to get up and start the day with no hassle at all. Until I'm awake enough to change to the normal mode to make the day as productive as it should have been. If my condition is very severe and needed more time for treatment, then I'll remain in this mode till as long as it takes to wake my brain. Yes, of course, I'll thread zombie like on this day in this mode, no twinkle in the eye, no humour, no response through out the day, but what the heck, at least things get done.

Maybe I could build in, in that mode, the various degree of function, something like a simple fan, first button for slowest speed, second button if you need stronger speed, and the final button for the strongest speed. My first button could be for doing things, second button for doing things a little faster, third button for the fastest, just in case of any emergency. Of course, it would be difficult to guarantee the quality of the outcome of things. Not a concern for the zombie like girl though, importantly she gets done what she's suppose to do and get done.

Wait, doesn't this sounds awfully familiar? Hasn't she gone through this mode before? Wasn't it called holding a job? sigh..I take back that I wished that, can?

it's a road trip, blogging is

Seems like blogging in the in thing now. Almost everyone that I know blogs. May be an occasional blogger, may be the daily blogger, may be spur of the moment blogger. As long as you have read of a blog, you are part of this phenomenon.

You had a bad day and you need to let go, so you write. You were swept off your feet with a proposal, you can wait to share with the world on happiness. You went for an interview and had post-anxiety attacks on your chances, you blog too. You had an idea to entwine carefully thought out characters in morbid plots, you blog your way. Your poetry juices goes overdrive every day, so you blog. You did in depth research on topics close to your heart, you blog your findings.

So wide are the blogging themes and materials that it's impossible to find enough labels to categorize them. Take you chance and click at blog. You really cannot predict what your eyes may be treated to, until you have the page open in front of you. And you really can't tell what you may get out of them. Once, on a random blog-viewing trip, I can across a blog on quilting. It left me a gaping reader upon seeing all the quilts of different shapes, sizes and designs that the blogger had made! Best, she even had a personal tender note for each piece, dedications to her inspirations and intendeds. So sweet!

The background of these blogs are equally engrossing, too. From their designs, you can really tell that they put so much effort and time to think through the presentation of their blog. It may be for others, but mostly I think it's for themselves. An avenue to showcase their creativity and enjoy it. People are so creative nowadays and are not afraid to display their creativity. It's so inspiriting! Of course, nothing's over the top, it's just whether you are tuned in to the same wavelength as the creator.

Maturity. You would be surprise to learn that, in my random blog-viewing trips, I've come across sites maintain by bloggers with only a single digit to their age, but blogs with an air of maturity that makes me ashame of my ramblings, sometimes. I may be tricked, but you have no reason to doubt the profiles given and just take it as it was shared.

It's all good. All craving for a bit of attention, the need to let go, to keep in touch, to share, to teach and learn, to do just what you want, with no or very little restrictions is making the world and the human race a little more transparent. Maybe that's why blogging caught on so big. It's a road trip. You can learn so much about the workings of the human mind and their achievements as part of this blogging community. When you start posting, you contribute and teach.

Sighs for an Egg

To feel utterly helpless to do anything, that's a very demoralizing feeling. I was momentarily rendered to that state just now as I was busy unpacking the things that I brought along with me from home. I saw an egg break. Sigh. I caused the egg to break. Deeper sigh.

I'm not sure what exactly happened, but it must be a slip my fingers as I was in the midst to place it in fridge. I think I heard a crack sound, before that. Maybe I hit the freezer handle first, which in turn lead to the instability of the egg in my hand. Sigh. My klutziness. Bigger sigh.

It was not that I stood still and let it fall. I did try to save it. My hands were trying very hard to grapple the egg , to save it from waste. Even though I felt a panic wave beginning to spread over me, I did try. If ever there was a moment that I wanted to have calm nerves and steady hands, that would have been the moment. I felt so helpless as seeing it dance in my clumsy hands, and only managed to break the full-speed of falling. Not stopping the fall. Poor egg. Poor, poor egg.

At the moment it hit solid ground and started pouring out some of it's slimy protein with the oh-so yellow yolk, I let out a cry of frustration. I had never felt so strongly about breaking an egg before. It was a kampung egg. Supposedly more nutritious and a healthier option from the 'normal' egg. The reputation makes it more pricey. My mother bought 10 of them so that I may bring some with me. The egg was meant to be half-boiled for my breakfast, in the days to come. I brought along with me only 3 eggs and just like that, down with 2! Poor, unfortunate egg, reduced to a slimy heap on floor, unable to contribute to my growth and expansion. Poor, poor egg.

Clumsy, clumsy me! Sigh. How could I be so clumsy..? Bigger sigh.

letter to (my) PALM

Dear (my) PALM,

Hello, it has been a long time since we corresponded. I did nudge you sometimes, when I see you online. Unfortunately, most often, silence greeted me. So I guess, I must be very lucky when I do get the few and far between short monosyllables response from you. At least, I'm know for one, you are alive. For my peace of mind. I'm not complaining, as I know what a busy person you are. I'm busy too, but not as busy as you.

Sometime back, when we met, I never got around really to express how I felt about you agreeing to squeeze me into your tight little schedule. I had meant to let you know, but always, if there ain't not much response from you, I know you are busy. I, for one, am not very fond of sending emails on this kind of thing, to you. It's called evidence. One that I cannot afford to have.

So this post is for you, to say how much I am thankful and grateful, that we had that little meeting. What's more was it was on this year's anniversary of the day I became human. You were busy, and it was on such a short notice, and yet, you agreed. I felt so overwhelmed at that time, hearing your voice, after so long. Of course, I did managed to calm my nerves. If only you had known how many deep breaths I took in, you would have shook you head. Perhaps, though, you did detect a slight stutter when I began each sentence, or replied to you. Sorry, my heart was just pounding, and I was not strong enough to hold it down.

Driving there, then waiting for you, I had wanted to not to show you how longing I was towards the impending lunch date. May I be so bold to call it a date? Yes, I think I would. Deliberately and calculatingly, I had everything set and arranged to the minute detail. Yes, I purposely left slightly later than I should, so that you may be waiting for me. Yes, I purposely went to a store to get my newspaper first, again, so that you will be there waiting for me. Yet, I felt time was not moving fast enough to make me late enough. Funny, but I think no one in their right mind would want time to move faster.

Seeing you, I felt an euphoria of bliss sweeping by my mind. It was a genuine happy smile. The many years that I did not see you, I did not remember. I was conscious of happiness that I was feeling. Shorter hair, whiter skin, the dimple never failing to appear when you smile, and your fast talk and even faster making decision, I really think you were the same guy I saw when we parted during our convocation celebrations. Apart of course, you look more engaging and exudes more confidence in your manner.

I wished that we had more time at our disposal. Sorry, perhaps, it should have been rephrased as I wish I had more time to spare then. Yet, I was just feeling so happy and grateful, having the lunch with you. Not long enough, but tender enough. But one I had really wish you had done, one I wished I had had the courage to do then, was to give your a handshake before we part. I was certain, you would initiate it. Yet, when I felt that you would not, I regret, then and now, to hide. Fear, maybe, I think so. It may end more than a handshake, I strongly think.

What do I mean to say, with all these? Oh, I don't know. I'm not lost, yet I sometimes wonder, what I will I get if you get this? Will you state your case forward, stronger than before, to make up for the lost time? Am I hoping for this? I don't yearn for you, yet, I think of you. I know I will not send it to you, therefore the boldness in truth. In all earnestness, I enjoyed your company, then and now. I wish you more happiness away from your motherland, as you want. Take care.

Yours sincerely,
jsb
with love

M¥ thoughts continue to shape Mе®

I want to say that I have come to an awakening, one so simple yet so powerful, that I'm just plain stubborn and stupid not to give it a try. Imagine, getting an affirmation on something that you have only suspected all this while. You can only shake your head, the feeling of awe taking over for a moment. You then blink and get your thoughts racing back, trying to dig through the abundance haywire greycells for any sign that can be used as evidence. I did just that and then remembered one, posted here, not so long ago.

Was it a coincidence, I asked? Might be, if you do not believe. Yet, what is coincidence and what am I talking about? What is so worthwhile, that I would rummaged through my mind, turning it inside out, upside down, and vice versa, just to find a pointer, an evidence, to show it was nothing near coincidence.

I got a book thrust into my zone, quite a while ago. I took it, read it, but managed only a few pages. I did not quite get pass the quarter mark before I had to put it down, left it on the table, waiting to be returned. I had expected that I wouldn't have a chance to read it, as much as I wanted to. Then the powers to be had decided this gal will have her chance. And boy, was she nudged, hard!

This book says, your life is as what your thoughts are, irrelevant of negation, irrelevant of what others think of you. You literally shaped yourself, your environment, your lifestyle, your everything with your thinking, however unconsciously it may be. It was breathtaking to see that in print. My mind went racing, reaching to the pointed end, I can will anything, if I wanted it passionately enough.

I had thought of wanting to read the book, and this trip back, it was still there, laying, waiting for me to devour it. It was not returned to it's owner, which was surprising. Had it been returned, perhaps, this moment would not have come. The powers of the universe had decided to move into position to give me the chance of reading it. I believe, as I had wanted to read it so much.

A few postings ago, I had written about dreading being late to class, and ending up late. My thinking of being in that situation had, in fact, led to my state at moment. I had, unaware and carelessly, given signals to the powerful universe that of being late. So, the stars, the planets, or whatever it took, aligned, came forth, moved in, to realize this fear, this thought, and your truly, no matter how much she did not want it, was late.

It was my willing it to life, explains why I got results of flying colours during my secondary school period, why I undertook the particular course in university, why I did not do that well then, and how I reached here,something that should have been done five years back. I had long suspected it, that it were something like this, but never quite be able to string up the words, to correctly, accurately describe this suspicion. Then, here I was given. Unconsciously willed to be given.

It is my will, my passion, my thoughts, my feelings then which will be playing the cards of my future. If all is mine, from me, I must learn to be more aware of what I think, that I generate out, in thinking, in paper, in feeling. Unconsciousness should be trained to be conscious awareness. It it only a slow process, if I think it to be slow.

If I passionately pursue, then can I be a writer, successful, well-known, read and loved all over?
If I passionately pursue, can I be rich, living in abundance, in cash, in feelings, in experiences, forever accumulating more and more over the course of my life?
If I passionately pursue, can I be a good teacher, a successful educator, a counselor, a helping hand towards those in need?
If I passionately purse, can I travel around the world, visit and staying in as many countries as possible, savouring the cultures, to learn, to understand, to teach and be taught the limitless of human compassion and nature's gifts?
If I passionately pursue, can I get the jackpot prize of the TOTO now standing at 20MEGAringgit, so that I may live rich, rich, rich, rich and filthy rich by this month?

Our thoughts continues to shape us. My thoughts continue to shape me. My being, my existence. My future.

I 'heart' ♥

I 'heart' you. When I first read the three words, with the middle word guarded with the couple of apostrophes, I got confused. My first thought was that was a slang, with a different meaning from the common 'I love you'. And I'm not really good nor updated on slangs and lingos. I had meant to look up the meaning of that phrase at that time, but never got around doing it, until today.

From what I gathered from the writings of Wikipedia and some online dictionaries, 'heart' here simply is the written form to symbolize ♥, the symbol. So when someone writes 'I 'heart' you' it is mostly like they meant to write 'I ♥ you' but lack the knowledge or the patience to birth the symbol. Hence, the use of the 'guarded' heart' in most writings. My confusions sorted out, simple.

There are a variety of ♥ that you can type out, once you know the generative keys. Based on Wikipedia (2008), I learnt (who doesn't) that "The most common emoticon for the heart is <3. In Unicode, the heart symbol ("BLACK HEART SUIT") is U+2665, and it can thus be generated in HTML by typing ♥ or ♥, or by the HTML entity ♥ (♥). An unfilled heart symbol ("WHITE HEART SUIT", ♡) is U+2661, or ♡ or ♡. In Unicode, there is also a "HEAVY BLACK HEART" (❤) at position U+2764".

Over the years, I'm pretty sure we all have come across tons of phrases, signages, billboards, adverts and etc, which applies the ♥ in varying forms, limited only by creativity. Or sometimes, space. Big ♥, small ♥, red, white, blue, or empty, hollow, broken ♥. It's all out there, exploited by each and everyone of us. After all, the ♥'s most common connotations are that of love and affections, arguably the 2 most over-capitalized but underrated feelings of human kind. Of course, I'm not excluded.

I want to end by typing, 'I ♥ Wikipedia', 'I ♥ my imagination' & I ♥ coffee', the 3 ingredients I needed to conjure up this post.


[Wikipedia (2008), Heart(symbol), Wikipedia (website). Accessed : 5th Oct 2008]

::time::

time,
with too little,
we stress out,
always wishing to have more.

time,
with too much,
we too stress out,
cracking the head to fill it.

time,
with too little,
with too much,
we get stressed out.

time,
too much too little,
always not neither one,
never satisfied.

time,
expire and die,
maybe then we will plead,
to appreciate time joyfully.

randomness making my day

Sometimes, a small random gesture or action can really make your day. Today, I got 2.

The first one was chatting with an old friend. Not any old friend, but a friend who I use to be close with. We kinda did not keep in touch for quite a while, perhaps slightly more than 2 years. Or was it 3? I forget, but you get the picture on when was the last time we traded gossips. It took facebook to reconnect us, when we could easily go over to each other's house, or call up. What we will not do, in life, keeps on surprising me.
We chatted online for most part of the high afternoon, until both of us had to go for lunch. It felt like old times, trading updates and sharing gossips. After all, it was so long since we spoke and so much had transpired in our lives in between. That brief session was certainly not enough, and I'm pretty sure that a meeting will be in the lineup very soon. Once she gets back here and while i'm still back in my hometown. Happily looking forward to it, and to re-start the friendship anew. Thanks for looking me up, ?.().|.3.N.3.

The second happened just now. Getting a respond to my email, when I least expect so, from none other than my most efficient lecturer. Perhaps, I should use the insert the word former in between of efficient and lecturer, since I now only have to concentrate on finishing up the assignments. Seeing her name in the new mails list was really a surprise. I didn't think that she answer my queries, since of course, I could just get them from her notes. She's really one of those lecturers whom you would be thankful to get.
Just two days ago, I submitted an assignment for her checking in the afternoon. I had expected to get back the checked assignment after the Raya, since she is a muslim. But no. She had checked and mail it to me by late evening! It was really a motivating moment for me, for I'm still waiting for the response to another assignment submitted to another lecturer more than a month earlier. So, getting the respond to this latest submission just hours after slogging over it, was really, really a motivating thing. It made my day, that day. And getting the respond from her today, was really a good feeling. She really is one heck of a responsible and efficient lady. Way to go, N.^.N.!.3!!

I'm not going to wait for the third. Right now, just want to stay happy and motivated.

recording waste

Have you ever had one of those days where you just do not know what to do? You are not free, you loads of things to be done, but somehow, somewhere along, you got all your focus out of place, your thinking scattered and your heart wondering. If you were pulled, you veer towards the source; if you were pushed, you went towards to the point. If neither was done, you would just stand there, unmoving. Today was like that for me.

I still have another 4 homeworks to be done. Great, big ones. All 4 requires deep research and literature reading, before any thinking or selecting process can be done. Normally depending on the net to feed me with all the informations that I can grab hold, today's online sessions were, surprisingly off course. Ended up doing things totally unrelated and unproductive. Who in world browse on others pictures, blogs, comments, profiles, and other non-essential, non-important stuff?

I got my butt up to attend a Raya visiting session at one of my muslim friend's house, since today is the 1st day of syawal. Had a friend fetched me. When I came back, browsing began. And the disorientation feeling manifested. At first I really did think it was due me missing my daily caffeine dosage, and thus hurriedly down a strong half-cup full of coffee. Yet, that done, my bearings were still out of focus. Even worse, the head was starting to spin, and the eyes heavy. I gave up and napped.

I awoke feeling blurry and heavy-headed. Had to hit the showers straight before going out for dinner. My parents were both ready, waiting for me. Had it my way, probably would just go back to bed, lay there for while to rid the heaviness in the head.
My head's okay now, and my tummy had been filled, yet, my brain is still scattering. Before I wrote this, I had been online for more than two hours, empty browsing. I had the urge to post earlier, but I stared at the 'create' page for a very long time, with nothing to show.

This post is pretty sure is filled incomprehensible sentences, guised to look like post with decent meaning and purpose. Rest assured, it's not, and i know it. Just need to record down, to show, how unproductive and wasteful I can be with my time.

blogging type

Your Blogging Type Is Thoughtful and Considerate
---------------------------------><------------------------------
You're a well liked, though underrated, blogger.
You have a heart of gold and are likely to blog for a cause.
You're a peaceful blogger - no drama for you!
A good listener and friend, you tend to leave thoughtful comments for others.

confessions of a banana chinese : how it came about

“How long can I keep this?” I asked the fruit seller, pointing at a comb of yellow bananas.
The Chinese man looked at me with a look of bewilderment clouding his wrinkles, tired face. Here we go again, I thought silently in heart. Slowly, I took a deep breath, and proceeded to repeat my question, this time in halting Mandarin. The fruit seller merely put up 2 fingers to indicate the answer. I shook my head, and left.

That happened when I visited one of the night markets not too long ago, and it was the first not, nor was it the last. My foray in learning the Mandarin language or any other Chinese dialects has all but been successful. Certainly, this would not be considered out of place, if I am not Chinese. Alas, I am of Chinese ethnic.

As far back as I could remember, I had been speaking in English and Bahasa Malaysia or Malay. Both my parents are Chinese, but they converse in English between themselves, and then to us, their children. Naturally, we picked it up. My parents were products of Christian missionary schools. Hence, they learnt to speak fluent English despite learning it as a second language. Their background could not be more contrasting, the clan dialect, Hokkien, being the household language of my father’s family, while my mother’s family, being Strait-born Chinese, spoke only Malay. Neither spoke each others’ first language well enough to maintain a conversation. I grew up under the care of my maternal grandparents. Unsurprisingly, I picked up Malay easily but learnt no Chinese.

My exposure to Chinese started very early, I think, since my father’s side spoke Hokkien. We went to my paternal grandmother’s house quite often, at one point almost a couple hours daily as we would have our dinner there. However, we never stayed over, lest for an extended period. That, I believe, did not put me in a good position to learn Chinese. Communication with Chinese speaking cousins and relatives were very minimal, as they hardly spoke Malay or English. Sign gestures were used when necessary, or when all else failed, my father would be called to be the interpreter.

My first ‘intensive’ exposure to Chinese was during my stay with a neighbour who babysat me in the afternoons during my 2 years of kindergarten. She’s a Chinese speaker, but could speak enough English to communicate with me. She was also taking care of two other Chinese speaking boys at that time. It was while playing with these 2 boys I remembered uttering my first Mandarin words on my own. She was surprised, as she never did instruct me any Mandarin. That was the only outburst in Mandarin that I managed before starting formal Mandarin lessons. I stopped going to her once I started primary school.

Formal Mandarin lessons started roughly when I was eight. My parents deemed it was appropriate for my elder brother and me to start learning our Chinese. Teacher was my next door neighbour. A Chinese school teacher, she was fluent in English and a little strict in character. Classes were twice a week and each lasted an hour. Some methods applied were spelling tests to force us to learn our vocabulary and restricting English usage during lessons after we were equipped enough with the basics words. Reading was done with textbooks, with tons of pictures and pinyin under the characters, to guide students with the pronunciations.

We went to 3 tutors in total, over a span of almost 4 years. All three employed similar methods, varying only the level in their strictness. All the time, we attended together, my brother and I, and conversed in English between us. We also had to sign up for Mandarin classes in school under the Pupil’s Own Language (POL) program, when we each reached 9 years old. For three hours each Friday, from primary 3 to primary 6, we attended those classes, with other English speaking friends. While we were good students, learning reading, listening, writing and speaking during lessons, it was difficult for the teachers to force us to speak in Mandarin amongst ourselves during those afternoons.

It was during the awkward age of ten or eleven, I can’t really recall, when one of the POL class teacher decided to sing a popular Chinese folklore song which carried my name as it’s theme during class. He meant well, wanting to introduce the song to us and let me know the uniqueness of my name. I think it then that I started to grow increasingly detached to the language when fellow classmates begun to sing that song in front of me, making fun of my name. After all those hours, my Mandarin competency level was stuck at uttering words with wrong intonations, listening to slowly articulated short sentences, reading basic words, and writing by copying. All formal tutoring of Mandarin ended when I left primary school.

From then on, my learning Mandarin was by picking up words. Looking back, my secondary school environment was actually very encouraging for a Mandarin L2 learner. Majority of my Chinese friends then know their Chinese, coming from Chinese medium schools. Unfortunately, I was at the stage where I hated learning Mandarin. I would simply just say that I don’t know Mandarin or Chinese and would make no effort to learn. While my Chinese speaking friends improved their English by leaps and bounds by conversing with me, my Mandarin knowledge stunted. I may have a few new words picked up, but nothing much. Life as student then was just hustling between school and tuitions, without a need to know Mandarin. Even being labeled 'banana chinese' did not change my attitude.

I would say now that I really begun to learn the importance of Chinese during my university years. By then, I was living on my own, in another town. Reality hit and the need to have the ability to find your own food was the awakening factor. Not knowing Mandarin or other Chinese dialect was very limiting. I realized that I need to at least have a conversational Mandarin knowledge. So, I learnt. My progress was slow, as I still preferred to speak in English. It was not easy at first, as the Mandarin vocabs did not come easily. Slowly though, via practicing with friends, speaking became increasingly easier. In time, I could find my own food, and hold short conversation in Mandarin with my peers, although peppered with English words in between. I could even catch a word or two when listening to Chinese songs. Of course, I get confused often, when friends start mixing dialects with Mandarin.

I have given up on learning the reading and writing skills of Mandarin, focusing on improving my aural and oral Mandarin. Of other Chinese dialects, I only know a smattering of words. Nonetheless, being in a country where English is the lingua franca, I often give in to the temptation of speaking English, as recounted earlier. While my own attitude towards learning Mandarin was not one of the best, I really do think learners of a particular second language should put themselves in an authentic environment where they will have no choice but use the second language in every day living. This will definitely help put into perspective, the importance of having a working knowledge, if not mastering, of the second language.


ps: if you have the chance, learn all. gal, if do have the time to read, appreciate comments. i'm gonna remove this, after a while..hhmmm..