Chinese - The Third
Wednesday, January 28, 2009

its 2 weeks in a row i've spent the weekend in our neighbors up north, for the yearly fly-catching, gambling, feasting, ang-getting session.

came back with mixed feelings becos:

- the kampong makes life in hdb feel constricted, we all follow a standard system dun we.

- conversing with elders makes time pass like a whiz, just yesterday i was getting myself smacked for running around in the house.

- cheap things make sg feel so pace-y, right to the bottom, I just want a comforting 3 meals a day.

posted by ikaira @ 1:40 PM, ,


For a moment, I didnt want back
Tuesday, January 20, 2009

2 days into land, im already missing the wavy seas, wooden beds, fiery sun, daily fishing, and of cos my best friend - heineken. no doubt its a far cry from the material comfort of spring mattress, high level apartment, electric fan, computer and tv that we possess, for a moment, i didnt want back

posted by ikaira @ 1:03 PM, ,


Forced Relaxation
Thursday, January 15, 2009

If you have been around you would have known im involved in the VOR, if you have been around, im sure VOR rings a bell, easily. Due to sheer luck or poor advertising, one part of my daily regime is to look at ppl driving into the carpark, tapping my thumb while the number twitches one up.

every single day for the passed 5 days i'll be seated in a plastic white chair stoled from a nearby construction site and seated strategically at corner, i'll spend a good minimum 2 hrs to as much as 4 hours staring into space, bobbing around in a more or less lifeless yet prestigious carpark, looking at the day's news, switching from mypaper to the strait times to today and finally to a book highly recommended and purposefully placed within my grasp.

i always knew it was a wonderful book even before i started a single page purely due to the sheer admiration the boss has for it. when the boss says its good, it must be good.

Due to this forced relaxation, the book has been a source of guidance and enlightenment. below is short para which drew much more than just thoughts and certainly meant more than just letters on paper and definitely zillions times more than just a profit-enhancing tool from a $16.65 price tag.

Enjoy, word for word:



FATHER FORGETS
W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guilty I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you, I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. Your put elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on you bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold you shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When i glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love your; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual:"He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son , crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

posted by ikaira @ 10:17 PM, ,


A new 365
Thursday, January 01, 2009

No more long listing resolutions which nv seemed to be done. My one and only dream for the next 365 days is to be happy. simple words i know, but way harder to be done than said.

to be exact, being happy in its most basic form means making peace with myself. with that done, i believe others departments of life will follow suit. they say with the mind set in the right direction, it affects other things.

one of the most important things i've learnt in the last 365 was to stop comparing. in the rat race of comparison i am proud to say i have slowed down if not stopped.

posted by ikaira @ 1:21 PM, ,