Ten Years of Wandering

 

Ten years of wandering

Down winding roads, and cobbled streets

A little less familiar, a tad too strange

Had me scanning, searching, looking out,

For a touch not cold, a friendly face

In this crowded room, this loneliest place.

I smiled back not with these soulless eyes

But with a mechanical mouth that moved

On auto pilot, like a well-oiled machine

Generating upturned corners, thus synchronized

That I passed for the real thing –

There was no bigger fool than me.

Places and people merged into

A collective memory of blurry days

Spent in waste, of smoky nights of haste

Of laughters as hollow as a heart

That could no longer care less

That it was smeared with dried blood.

In distant shore, lands far away

Moving in and out of mindless chatterings

Of endless laughters that didn’t ring true

I slowly turned around, as sure as the sun

Will rise at the break of day –

I walked straight back to the start

And ended these ten years of wandering.

(Buffet) Breakfast at Tiffany's

I have been staying in hotels for most parts of this year, and have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to do a lot of people-watching. It is indeed amazing that some people think it is OK to 'misbehave' because they are at the hotel, on holiday, or have paid for the room that sometimes common courtesy as well as common sense are checked out at the door the minute they check in at the hotel. There are too many trangressions to discusss, but for this piece, I have collected enough material to talk about...buffet breakfasts - or rather, what I have seen around buffet breakfasts.

 

I have indeed seen enough that I feel it necessary to make some ground rules for turning up at the breakfast restaurant for your sunny-side up:

 

1) Pajamas are for sleeping in

Believe it or not, what you wear to buffet breakfast matters! In a span of 6 months of my staying in various hotels, while the guests are different, the dressing is uncannily the same that sometimes I think that perhaps I am the misguided one because I must have missed the hotel handbook on what to wear to the breakfast buffet. I have seen too many pajamas in various states of 'rumpleness' worn at breakfast. I know some people in the fashion industry may have had a momentary loss of creativity that they are trying to sell the idea that hey, you know what? You can wear pajamas at any times and not only when you are going to bed - but I doubt by that they meant old, wrinkled pajamas with twinkle little stars motif on them and with a couple of holes in them to boot, and worse still, if you were at breakfast looking like you came straight out of bed, and that means dishevelled hair, unkempt, and  looking a right fright. Hardly the best way to start your day or other people's day! I am surprised I have not seen anybody with those flimsy paper-thin room slippers to breakfast. Oh wait. I HAVE!! And what is even scarier is the fact that so far these transgressors have been (gasps!!) women!! I mean, come on!

 

As my current abode is a resort hotel, the weekends are always the easiest time to spot these trangresssors.I have seen many men who have sauntered into the breakfast restaurant with nothing but a pool towel wrapped around their lower body. I would give you credit for your confidence and laissez-faire attitude about your shirtless torso.. but OK, if you looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model, I might not protest so much. Same goes with women who wear their swimsuit to breakfast, especially the ones with a skimpy tutu-like skirt that covers nothing, thank you very much. What are your motives, exactly? No, we don't look at you because we admire your derriere. We look at you and we quickly look away again because we are thinking What were YOU thinking? How could your parents let you go out looking like that...but sadly we realize that you are the parent. If you simply must wear your swim gear, at least have the decency to put on a pair of shorts or a nice sarong AND a top over it. And don't even think about coming in with your fins and snorkle masks either, unless you're planning on snorkelling in the fruit bowl cos I have news for you - Nemo has been found, and he is alive and well somewhere beyond the sea.

 

2) The hotel buffet will NOT run out of food

I am a big food lover. My family will tell you, my friends will tell you, and I don't deny it, so I am amazed to find that there are some people who are bigger food lovers than me. So much so that at breakfast buffets, they do all they can to get at the food. I have been shoved, I have had people cutting the queue, and I'm not talking about one rogue food lover but the whole clan ganged up on me, and some have even gone as far as claiming the two slices of bread that you have put into the toaster are in fact theirs. And then there is the issue of how much is too much? Some people have plates with mountainous amount of food piled up on them - eggs on chicken on sausages on stewed beef on veggie on rice on noodles; salad and salad and more salad,  muffins on cakes on danish pastries on donuts; watermelon on melon on rock melon - you get the idea. And some people even go back for more when they have not even finished what's on their plate, or plates, as the case may be. People, calm down. If there is no more food, the hotel kitchen will cook some more. It is such an obscene sight to behold, and more than anything, it is sad that some people justify having paid for the buffet, it gives them a divine right to become gluttons.

 

3) There are other breakfasters in here...

The breakfast restaurant is a public place, and like you, we have also paid for the service. Be considerate of other people, and respect each other's space. One morning while I was having breakfast in a nice restaurant, I suddenly noticed that the relaxing soft, background music had changed to a loud children's theme song of Old MacDonald had a farm...E,I,E,I,O!! And in his farm he had some chicks...E,I,E,I,O! You get the drift. I thought it was a strange choice of music, until I realized that it came from a neighbouring table at which sat a woman with her toddler. The woman was texting on the phone, and was happy to leave the child with her baby computer with songs and games, and was not thinking that perhaps other people would like to start their day with a bit of peace  and quiet, and not be bombarded first thing in the morning with loud kiddies songs just so her child would not disturb her while she chat with her friend on the phone. On many occasions, I have had the misfortune of being seated next to people who think it is OK to talk at the top of their voices that the whole restaurant could hear every minute detail about her last holiday, shopping spree, last night's conquests, big contracts they have won, _______, yes, fill in the blank.  Do respect other people's right to be there, and speak quietly to your breakfast companions, and by for god's sake, put the phone down and do not let the computer babysit your child.

 

So these are a few ground rules at the breakfast table. Now, can I have my fried eggs over easy, please?

November Rain and Something Good

And by the way...it is now the second week of November 2012. NOVEMBER! How did that happen? Did I go to sleep one night in May and woke up almost six months later? The last time I checked, my name was not Rip Van Winkle. So how, what, where...when??

OK, let's see what has happened since my last post.

From June 2012 onwards, I started travelling back and forth between Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia. I had spent most of my time travelling that I have barely settled in in my new apartment in Kuala Lumpur. Some of my worldly possessions are still in boxes, and god forbid I have to travel to some cold country this winter cos I have no idea where my winter stuff is. My life is spent staying in one hotel after another...and the grievances of a hotel dweller are as per my rants in my last post. Food? Good! But after a week, the buffet spread which was scrumptious just 3 days ago has now lost its appeal - it's become a grandiose novelty that makes you long for mom's cooking, and you don't exactly love your mom for her cooking skills. But beggars can't be choosers, and so I have trained my palate to contend with bad, unfamiliar food and look forward to the time when I am back home where good food is in abundance. Is it so bad that I am talking about food? But that is what I always miss the most. Even when I was in Europe, I would crave for spicy curry after about 3 days of travelling. Haven't we all stuffed our luggage full of comfort foods like Maggi instant noodles, or packets of chilli sauce, or is that just me? Anyway, I've digressed. I have now found myself lodged in a hotel for a very long stay...and this is what I call 'home-away-from-home' for a while. I am counting my blessings everyday cos I could be in a much worse situation, so alhamdulillah.

What else have happened since?

Oh yes - my biggest accomplishment this year is finally completing my thesis in August. It was a labour of love and a lot of hate - the tears, sweat and blood thing? All true! But I now have a Master's Degree in English as a Second Language, and though I was offered to pursue my Ph.D by my university, I decided to not take them up on the offer. Though I'd never say never, I feel like at this point, that chapter of my life is over, and I am ready to embark on another chapter - one which would accord me the liberty to read fiction and poetry whenever I feel like it with no sense of guilt because I have now completed my MA. The graduation was set for October 2012. Unfortunately...it coincided with James Morrison's concert in Singapore. So... I was in a little dilemma then...Convo?? or Concert? Convo? or Concert. Bit of a no brainer there...so sorry convo! I'd rather celebrate my accomplishments my way. And yes, I had a blast at the concert. Come again soon, James!

And so, it is now November. If there's one thing I have learned so far is that one needs to have a positive outlook and attitude towards life. Yes, I have had many dark days, but I have survived them thus far on positive attitude and the sheer power of faith that there's a power much bigger than me is looking after me.

The rainy season has started in these parts of the world, but I have been very lucky that I also have many sunny days here. It is November, after all, and before we know it, it would be the New Year's eve, time to sing the auld lang syne.  But before this year is up, let's make a promise to ourselves...one that we will tell noone, but one that we will strive to fulfill every day from today. Are you ready?

Home Sweet Home

For years now I have discovered one thing about myself - I am a creature of comforts who is a tad OCD.

Does my confession sound tacky to you? But that’s the truth. The ugly truth.

While I love travelling, and I love staying in hotels, I have also made another discovery about myself – I absolutely hate long hotel stays, even in nicely-appointed rooms in grand hotels. I hate ‘living out of the suitcase’, a phrase that denotes the sad state of my homelessness, the impermanence of the current living arrangements. Where am I? Am I here, or am I there? Oh, I am definitely there – wherever there may be.

You might then question my earlier statement that I am a ‘creature of comforts’. You see, the definition is slightly confusing for my reality. What I meant by that is contradictory between my love for staying in hotels, and my need to be at home – tidy or otherwise.

In hotels, my things are mostly scattered around the room. My cosmetics mostly occupy the writing desk, because I don’t like to put my powders and lipsticks in the same room where I…ehem…shower and brush my teeth. To bring some order into the madness, my lip liners, eye liners, gloss tubes of various colours, mascara wands and brushes will be placed in the hotel glass tumblers - all holding court on the writing desk for easy access. That means, I can never use that writing desk to work at. So, where do I put my laptop? Or books? The laptop will end up on the sofa (so I can’t sit on the sofa anymore), and the books will end up on the bedside table, perching precariously among the hotel phone, the master console for the electrical gadgets in the room, the room service menu, and the writing pad and the pen. Very cluttered indeed!

Then, there is the question of the clothes. The closet space in hotel rooms is mostly miniscule – your clothes will have to fight for breathing room with the hotel safe, the ironing board and the iron – all of which are also crammed in the ‘closet’. My delicates will have to remain in the suitcase which I can lock when I leave the room because I don’t want to leave them lying around where the hotel staff could have a look when they come in to clean the room. The thought of strangers going through my smalls is downright unthinkable.  If I’m travelling alone, closet space is not a big problem. But if I’m travelling with other people, then it is a BIG problem. I normally just relent and give up the closet to the other person, and so my clothes remain in my suitcase for days on end. And then the phrase ‘living out of a suitcase’ is true, and very much compounds the cluttered state of both my physical condition and my mind. There is also the problem of where to put your dirty laundry – no pun intended. I normally just shove them into a laundry bag. But what if I want to wear my jeans again? I can tell you that those will be hanging at the back of the chair for a few days too, compounding the messiness of the room that I have checked into.

My shoes. OK, you got me! Yes, I do bring with me many pairs of shoes when I travel – well, one has to be prepared for eventualities, hasn’t one? Minimum two pairs of sexy sandals – one in a neutral colour like black, one in a fun colour for casual. A pair of sneakers, because I might just feel like going to the gym during my stay. A pair of pool sandals, because I might just feel like chilling by the pool (and ogle hunks). One pair of walking sandals for walking around town. So, that’s 5 pairs, at the very least. By the time I check into the nice and tidy hotel room that will be my ‘home’, I will have lined my shoes against the wall…and already the room looks cluttered. The only consolation is that my shoes, they are pretty shoes. Hahaha

Then, the food. Hotel food is fine – for all of two days. Then, the breakfast spread looks the same (they ARE the same!), and then I’d be longing to eat my own home-cooked meals – either burnt, or lacking a certain je ne sais quoi, I don’t care – as long as they are food which I have cooked myself.

The point is…I love being in my own space, surrounded by familiar things. I love that my earrings that I took off one evening last week are still there on the coffee table - gathering dust, no doubt - but they are there, all the same, until I put them away. I love that I make my own bed. My bed-making method might not be hotel-perfect, but I love doing it. I love that my dirty clothes are in the laundry basket, ready to be laundered only when it is spilling over. I love that my laptop is on my study table in the study, my books piled up on the book shelves, and my cosmetics are on my dresser, where every single lipstick and gloss should be.

I am always happy to leave the hotel and go home - to return to both the homely tidiness and messiness that are me. Until such times when I’ve had enough of home, and need to get away from everything and anything familiar. Then I’d pack my bag for another hotel stay. Oooooh how exciting! And yes, it will be exciting for all of two days, max.

Just a small nugget

Hello all,

It has been a while since I posted anything. You know what it's like - life has a way of getting in the way of good intentions. 

It is now the second week of May, and by the end of June, half of 2012 is over. How has it been? Have we found love? Are we still in love? Have we fallen out of love? Have we got that job? Are we still in that loathsome job? Have we got that promotion that we've been working like dogs for? Have we found happiness, or are we still pretty much in the pursuit of happyness? Have we become better people, or are we still no better than we were yesterday? Have we learned anything from everything, or are we still in the dark about everything? Have we got what we have been waiting for, or are we still waiting and waiting? Are we still keeping our new year resolutions, every single one of them? Or have we fallen by the wayside so many times? Well, the truth is...I have fallen by the wayside, again and again, and always brushing myself up, and starting over every time. The intentions to keep them are still there. The spirit is willing, the mind and the body are not. It is so cliche, I know, but it it the truth.

The same thing with keeping this blog going.  I have promised myself that I will update it every week, but I have found that it is not always easy. Sometimes I have what they call a 'writer's block'. Hahahaha That is so funny on so many levels.

My life is a huge roller-coaster right now, and maybe keeping this blog is what will keep me sane in the next few months, so I will do my best to update every week, insyaallah. 

Till then, have a great day, you...yes, YOU, who are reading this right this very second. 

Love to all.

Starting Over

 

I have forgotten

How to weave emotions

Into words

Forming stories

So fantastic

That words fail me.

Son, I'm Sorry

 

Son, I’m sorry

We put you out on the streets

With a dirty bowl, and flies in your hair

To beg for the kindness of strangers

(Your father’s not much use, on his unsteady feet)

Just so tonight we could have a piece of roti

Digesting our love as we sleep.

Son, I’m sorry

You don’t know the ABCs

Or the complexity of one two three

As you look in on your should-be friends

Writing away on papers so crisp, and blue-lined

In their white shirts starched to perfection

And at their feet, steaming tiffins are waiting.

Son, I’m sorry

Your future friend is killed today

(They say it was a martyr as young as you!)

In a busy street where fathers drink coffees

And sisters giggle and brothers laugh and smile

And now mothers wail and tear at their hair, crying

Over blood on curbstones, and limbs torn into frays.

Son, I’m sorry

The trees are gone, and all the birds you once spied

Have flown further away than southerly south

In their places, a marvel of architecture sprouted

As tall as the mountains we mowed down

To keep the gadgets running in our expensive pads

Turn up the air-con, will ya?

It’s so damn hot in here.

Son, I’m sorry

You have to see that on TV

It’s Ok, you say, I see this everyday

People killing each other, people dying on the streets

Women and children, and the innocents shot at and bleed

You pick up the remote and surf the channels

And drool like a fool, as Paris Hilton frolics by the sea.

Son, I’m sorry

We give you guns to fight wars not your own

As you lurk behind smoking SUVs

We pray that your sophisticated night-vision goggles

And expensive bullet-proof vests live up to specifications

Just so you won’t return home

Draped in stripes in simple oak boxes.

Son, I’m sorry

We throw wastes in the seas and put holes in the skies

We have been ignorant

Surviving to feed our many obsessions

For scraps of paper that we invent

And prostrate and idolize much more than

The creator of these treasures - treasures we destroyed shamelessly

It’s only just now that our heads emerge out of the sand

Slowly, slowly.

Son, I’m so sorry

We’ve failed you

In so many ways.

Suffer the little children

In a span of two weeks, two young children died senselessly in Malaysia.

The first case was that of Dirang, a 5-year-old girl who was kidnapped when she went to buy noodle at the shop near her house. Her burnt body was found a few days later. Arrests have been made and we are now awaiting the trial of this case.

In the second case, a 2-year-old child drowned in a lake while on a picnic trip with his mother and auntie. The police have classified the case to be a sudden death.

I don’t know about you, but I am highly distressed about both these cases. While I do sympathize with both the children’s families, I have to point out that these tragedies could have been avoided. The so-called tragedies should not have happened.

The first case brought to mind the case of Adik Nurin who went missing after going to the night market near her house alone. Months later, her body was found stashed in a sports bag, and post mortem revealed that unspeakable crimes had been committed on her body, crimes that only a person with a sick mind and an evil heart is capable of conflicting on a little girl. I am still traumatized thinking about the pain and suffering that she must have gone through, but as the Malay proverb says…berat mata memandang, berat lagi bahu memikul (if it’s hard for the eyes to see, it’s even harder for the shoulder that has to carry the burden). This case happened a few years ago now, but it remains fresh in my memory as if it was only yesterday.

The world that we live in today is very different from the world many of us knew when we were growing up. I grew up in a village where people stick to the old adage that it takes a whole village to raise a child. The mentality is your child is my child and my child is your child. If my child is hungry, please feed him. If your child is hungry, I will feel him. If my child is naughty, please tell him off. If your child is out of line, I will tell him off. You keep an eye on my child, and I keep an eye on yours. I grew up being able to roam freely with my friends or go places on my own. Those days are gone now. After Adik Nurin’s case, we all know that monsters live among us, there are predators who prey on the young and the vulnerable, and we know that things will never be the same again. Ever.

So that is why Dirang’s case makes me so angry. No matter what the reasons were for letting her go to the shop alone, we have to remember that Dirang was only 5 years old. She was an innocent child, naïve in the ways of the world. On the back of Nurin’s case, it is beyond belief that any parent would think it's OK to let a young child wander off on her own. After Nurin’s case, it is not acceptable anymore for parents anywhere to think that a young child can be let out of sight alone, even just for a minute.

In the case of the toddler who was drowned, I blame his mother’s lack of common sense. Letting a child of any age out of sight is in itself a crime, but I personally feel that letting a child of two out of sight near a LAKE is a gross act of negligence. A body of water, no matter how small, is a danger to young children, and yes, we are talking about a lake here, not a teeny weeny puddle.

Which brings us back to the reason why I’ve said these two children have died senselessly. Their deaths could have been avoided had the parents had any common sense at all. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case.

I have seen many cases where parents have shown a lack of common sense in dealing with their children. Once, in a crowded shopping mall in Hong Kong, I approached a young boy no older than three years old who was crying his eyes out for his mother. He was obviously in distress for losing his mother and I stayed with him until his mother arrived. Imagine my shock when his mother told me that she  had purposefully left the boy on his own because he was misbehaving. Now, what if I WAS a predator? I could have taken the child away, and nobody would have thought anything suspicious about a woman with a crying child. The mother would never see her child again! Parents, never ever leave your child out of sight in shopping malls, for whatever reason. If they misbehaved, then take them home, don’t walk away from them. Somebody might be watching for the right opportunity to snatch your child.

I really do not understand the mentality of parents who think it is OK to ask their young children to go anywhere on their own, be it to the night market near the house or the shop downstairs, because going with them is inconvenient for us. So while we chat with our friends in the mall, or near the lake, we conveniently let them out of sight because we are too busy/tired/having too much fun to attend to the child. I have known parents who ask their underage children to look after the younger ones at home while they go out to go wherever. I have also known parents who would feel no qualms about leaving their child home alone, completely unsupervised. What if a fire broke out, or a stranger might have been watching these comings and goings, and what if the predator had managed to persuade the children to come to the door, or worse, managed to go into the house? Yes, some people might say that they can depend on their children to be responsible people. Well, if that is the case, why don’t we just suit our children up, and send them out to the office every morning so that we can just stay home and pursue our hobby? The thing is, children are only dependable until ‘tragedies’ happen. The real tragedy here is that these parents have failed their children in more ways than one. Maybe what I am saying here might seem harsh to you, but I am not making any apologies here because are not the deaths of these two young children enough to make you want to go to these parents and slap some sense into their heads?

In this time and age, our children’s safety should be our top priority, for isn’t that’s what we are for? Even animals are very protective of their young, that they would do anything to ensure that their young survive into adulthood because they know leaving them alone would mean a matter of life or death. Shouldn’t we humans be more than well-versed in this survival concept by now, or has our evolution from cavemen into modern day homosapiens been for nothing? No more senseless deaths of our children. No more avoidable ‘tragedies’. There is no point crying over spilt milk…especially when we are the ones who have done the spilling.

Comments are welcome.

Lady of Leisure

Ever come across people who are obsessed with knowing what other people do for a living? When I meet these people for the first time, I swear to God, they have been placed there by my side to ask me this annoying question “So, what do you do?”  And when I tell them that I’m ‘not working’ (which in my definition is not drawing a monthly salary by having a 9-to-5 job in an office somewhere), they will nod their head and give me a sympathetic smile. And after a considerable moment of awkwardness has passed, they would venture another question, just as annoying and a tad condescending: “So, what do you do all day?” While I was pleasantly amused by this person’s question, I could also sense that his curiosity was heavily tinged with the assumption that as somebody who does not have a 9 to 5 job - a ‘lady of leisure’ if you like - I would have nothing to do at all, other than beautifying myself all day long.

So, for those who are curious as to what I do all day, here are some possibilities:

1) I have so much money that I spend my days shopping. I would go into all those designer boutiques and try on one pretty dress after another. When I have bought the whole store, I would go to my favourite restaurant and sit down for lunch/tea, whichever time it is. I would not do shoe-shopping on the same day I do my clothes-shopping, because to shop for the perfect pair of shoes requires a stamina for which I have to spend days working out at the gym. Shoe-shopping is not for the faint-hearted. It is an art. It is a sport. It is my favourite way to spend my day. Any day.

2) I cook up a storm in my kitchen. I would browse through all my cook books, and I like nothing better to spend my days than when I’m cooking, baking and concocting something in my kitchen. If the oven does not explode, then the cooking has not been successful. And nothing gives me more pleasure than when my significant other (aka my guinea pig) ooohs and aaaahs at my culinary skills.

3) I clean the house all day. I would spray and dust and wipe and scrub and mop and vacuum till my walls are dust-free, and the floors are clean enough to eat off. In fact, I sometimes casually drop a crumb or two so that I can lick it off my shiny floors. Yes, I'm that confident in my cleaning abilities because I clean with a passion. The bane of my existence is when I discover a teeny weeny fluff in the far corner under the bed. That really gets me. I would not be happy until that fluff is swept out from under its hiding place, and it will not make the mistake of lodging itself there again, mark my word.

4) I go to the spa everyday. I would start my day with getting a massage from head to toe, and finish off with a facial so pampering I'd doze off. Then I'd drop in at my favourite hairsalon to pamper my hair with an expensive and luxuriating hair treatment and share a gossip or two with the hairdresser. While I’m getting my hair done, I would also have a mani pedi done at the same time, you know, killing two birds with one stone, and if you had to ask what a mani and pedi is, poor you, but I don’t think I’d want to be your friend. Yes, that’s what I do all day. How do you think I manage to look immaculately put together like this every day?

5) I watch TV all day. From the moment I wake up till it’s bedtime again, I would be in front of the TV, either sitting up, lying down, upside down…I find them all comfortable, although lying down on the sofa with my slave (yes, in order to do this all day, you will need a slave who will do all the housework for you, otherwise, no hope!) feeding me a bunch of grapes is my preferred method of TV-watching. I would watch everything…CSI, E!, Cartoon…or those Malay movies with titles like Hantu Dalam Botol Kicap, the more outlandish the titles, the more I would want to watch them. I like to watch the reality TV the best…Kim Kardashian, Housewives of God-knows-where, Jersey Shore, you know what I'm talking about. Such great entertainment, those reality shows. 

Are you still with me? Good. Because I’m not done yet, with what I do for a living, or what I do all day.

For all you know, I could be anything. And that’s the beauty of it! I could actually be anything! I could be the internet billionaire who has enough money to last my family for generations to come. I could be a pole-dancer and I practice all day on the pole I’ve set up in my bedroom. I could be a secret agent for the government with the license to kill. And now that I have told you this, I would have no choice but to kill you and make it look like an accident.

The point is…it is really no one’s business how you and I spend our days. And to the man who had asked me what I do all day, this is what I told him: “I spend my days knitting!” :D

Comments are welcome.

I am a Drama Queen. (NOT!)

I recently was surprised when a friend of mine, whom I haven’t met since school, had called me (gasp!) a drama queen.

My reaction was Me? Drama queen? Nevaaairr!

And much to my amazement, he pointed out that even the use of the French accent ‘nevair’ screams of a drama queen. Hah! Nevaaaiiiir! Ooops!

So, what exactly is a drama queen, I ask you. And you’d say someone who thrives on making a mountain out of a molehill. Mmmm well, if you put it that way, maybe…just maybe…I AM a drama queen, and I am using this definition in the loosest of terms. So, let’s see what kind of behaviour that can be construed as an action of a drama queen.

Mmmm…drama queens love dramatic entrances! Arriving everywhere so late it’s not even considered fashionable, with an entourage of no less than 20, and demanding diva treatment, even if they are just having breakfast of roti telur and curry at the mamak stall. Well? Mmmm…sooo not like me! Like every normal person, it is nice when people look at you when you arrive, but far be it for me to turn it into an opportunity for a publicity stunt. In fact, I find it extremely creepy when people wouldn’t stop looking. Wouldn’t you too? It is uncomfortable, and makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with the way I look. Did I somehow leave home in different colour shoes? No. Have I got a bit of lunch stuck between my teeth? No. Is my panty line showing? Heck, no! I find women do this to me too, staring at me from across the table. So, please excuse me pretending to not see you staring at me while I’m trying to enjoy my dessert.

Drama queens love having a gazillion people in their social network – some even strangers they have never met in their life, and don’t know them from Adam. It doesn’t matter to drama queens who their audiences are, as long as they have an audience who would oooh and aaaah at the drama that unfolds in their lives. Now, I must admit, of late, I have been doing a bit of this myself, i.e. accepting friends’ requests from strangers, but only because they are my juniors at school, albeit juniors I have never met, but my juniors nonetheless. But those who know me also know that I am always trimming my friends’ list, much to the wrath of my many errr…victims. I mean, come on…it is so boring to have ‘friends’ who are ever so quiet and never have an opinion to share with others, and wouldn’t you find it creepy to know that these ever-so-quiet people, especially those you don’t know, trawl the walls of your social network? And I think my friends’ list editing is coming up in a couple of months. Call me a drama queen in this case. I’d gladly accept it.

What else do drama queens do? Splash their problems in their social network status. Granted, everyone is allowed to write whatever they want, it is after all ‘almost’ a free country, but there are things that should be kept out of these social network walls. For example, me being a person who has a love-hate relationship with food, I’d love to know what you have for breakfast/lunch/tea/dinner. If you could post pictures of these scrumptious foods, hey, I’d hate you for eating them, but I’d love drooling at the pics! I’d love you too if you post pictures of sexy shoes and gorgeous bags and your stylish new hairdo, heck, tag me in them so I wouldn’t miss a thing, but I reserve the right to not have to read about you breaking your nail while doing the dishes this morning, or your heart is broken for the umpteenth time in a span of a week, or your not-so-subtle clues that make us all wonder about what that excuse of a husband of yours has done to you. Me? I’d like to think my social posts are words of encouragement that inspire people, or funny ones that make people smile, at least, and yes, I try to keep the drama in my personal life only to myself. People might know my name, but they don’t know my story, and I’d like to keep it that way. Unless of course if you’re interested in what I have for breakfast or lunch, then I can talk allllllll day, my friend!

I once bought a t-shirt that says I hate Drama that has a big heart with crossbones on it, in a bright pink colour that screams look at me, look at me, I hate drama! And boy, I love that t-shirt. I thought I look cute in it! Hahaha! To be honest, I bought it as a joke because I have met too many people who thrive on drama. People close to me know that I have enough drama in my life – and most of which are NOT of my own doing, and I don’t need other people’s drama on top of what’s already on my plate. I don’t even watch drama on TV anymore - they are eerily similar to the drama I have to deal with on the personal front. I long for the days when all the drama is gone – kaput! Vanish into thin air! so that maybe I will have some kind of normalcy again. So, I think it’s the people around me who are giving me drama. I myself am no drama queen.

Please believe me! I implore you! :D

Comments are welcome.

Thank you!

It is good to see one of my good friends has joined this blog.

Welcome, Selina Rogers! :D

Yes, Ma'am.

Dear all,

It has been a long time since my last post, and if you recall, it was an issue of children not doing the chores because they have a maid to do it all for them, resulting in children who will grow up having  very different values about life.

Today’s post is about maids, or rather, the treatment of maids that I have seen over the years.

Many of us have live-in maids today because our lives are such that we need a helping hand with the children and making sure that the house is running smoothly. We depend on live-in maids to keep our house clean, the children fed, the laundry washed, ironed and ready, the plants watered. Live-in maids are a necessity for many households as they help us with the chores so that we can go out to work knowing that the house will be taken care of, and generally, will be in a tip top condition by the time we get back from work. Many such families get along well with their maids and treat them like family, respect and trust them implicitly to do their job well. These maids are treated well – they are paid on time, get presents on special occasions and some more fortunate ones are even taken on holidays either locally or abroad. Yes, we have also heard of the horror stories of how these maids abuse our trust by running away, or mistreating our children etc, but does it justify us treating our maids badly? I have seen a lot over the years, and today, I would like to share with you some stories of how some people just mistreat their live-in maids as if slavery still rules the day.

First and foremost, the maids are there to help with the house chores so that we can focus on the things that matter – like spending more time with our children. However, there have been many cases when the maids become the children’s surrogate mother/parent. For example, I have seen a maid playing in the pool with two small children of the family she is working for, while the mother is sitting in the sun chair, reading magazines. Then, the mother shouts instructions to the maid who then disappears from the pool while the mother keeps an eye on her children from the comfort of her sun lounger. A while later, the maid is back, bearing a heavy tray of cold drinks and snacks. The mother then instructs her to go back to play with the children in the pool. The mother does not even go anywhere near the pool – she occasionally shouts at her children and the maid from where she is lounging. When the mother is tired, she asks the maid to round up the children. The maid towels them dry, and the mother walks away with the children, leaving the maid to collect and carry everything that is left behind – a big bag full of toys, magazines, the wet things as well as the tray of empty glasses and plates. I swear to god, the maid staggers under the weight of the number of things she has to carry upstairs. What is wrong with this picture?

Shopping outings are the same. I have seen many maids having to carry a bag of the child’s things on her shoulder, while is also laden with shopping bags in both her hands. What do the parents do? The father holds a child’s hand, while the mother carries only her handbag. The maid just trails behind this family with the most forlorn look on her face, tired from all the walking and carrying, possibly tired of the insensibility of it all. I have also seen a maid who always has to wait at the entrance of the mall while her employers go shopping. When I ask her, she says she is not allowed to look around the mall but has to wait there until they come back, for if she’s not there when they come, she’ll be in trouble. I watched her from afar as I was having my coffee, and the family she works for came back after a good two hours. The maid had to just wait there for two whole hours. I really just don’t see the point of that. Why wouldn’t they give her some money so she could get a coffee while waiting for them, rather than just standing there by the entrance for two solid hours? Once, when I was in the foodcourt having lunch, a family of three was seated at a table next to me, with their maid. The woman went to get food for everybody, and gave her maid a bowl of noodles, and they started eating. I thought ‘That’s nice.’ Then, as the maid was eating her noodles, the woman started picking out all the prawns, fishballs and vegetables from the maid’s bowl, leaving the maid only with the noodles and the soup. The maid caught my eyes, and looked away, obviously embarrassed that I had witnessed the cruelty of her employer. I just couldn’t believe my eyes, and felt so sad that people could be so mean.

When I was still attending classes at the university and returning home around 10pm, in the car park, I always saw a maid washing the cars. I asked her once why she’s still washing the cars so late at night and she said she was not allowed go to bed until she had done all her chores, including washing the two cars, and she could only wash the cars when her employers were finally home. If they came home late, then she would still have to wash the cars late. Once, I left something in the car and had to go back for it, and who did I see was still washing the cars at almost midnight? I said to her to go back and sleep, and she just gave me a sad smile.

I used to play golf with a man years younger than I am. Once, I gave him a ride home, and when we were about five minutes away from his condo, he called his maid and asked her to meet him outside the condo so that she could carry his golf bag upstairs (their condo is a walk-up). I was shocked that a strong man of 25 had asked his diminutive maid to carry his heavy golf bag for him. Yes, I judged him that day, and I’m not proud of it, but I hope that he has changed his ways now that he’s much older.

It is disheartening to realize that in this time and age, people are still being treated like slaves. We have heard of other stories of how the maids never get a day off, never allowed to leave the house, not allowed to make phone calls home, and the indignity of having to wear maid uniforms as well. I am appalled that we treat other human beings with so little respect and in such an inhumane manner, just because we pay them money (which is a pittance, by any standards). These brave souls leave their families and friends behind, and cross the oceans to go to foreign countries to find a better life for themselves and their families. It is a choice that nobody would make, not unless dire circumstances call for it. They are somebody's wife, mother, daughter, sister. It could be us. Would we not find it in our hearts to be more compassionate to these brave souls, and treat them better? After all, they are the ones cooking our food, looking after our children and keeping our house in a good running order, and generally making things easy for us, so isn’t it just appropriate that we reciprocate these acts of devotion by showing them a little more respect, a little more kindness? 

Comments are welcome.

Among Other Things

Love, among other things,

Is also fragile -

Like a little bird

Whose delicate feathers

Come apart in your crushing hand.

Among other things,

Heart too is delicate -

All it takes is

One wrong step

And it shatters into pieces.

Promises, among other things

Are as breakable

As that red Tesco mug

You drink your coffee from

Every single morning.

Among other things,

Trust, thrice betrayed

Will limp away bearing crutches

With deep cuts that only time will heal

If that is at all possible.

So in the meantime

What am I supposed to do

With love crushed in your hands

Heart shattered beyond repairs

Broken promises laced with lies

And trust that will not return to me easy?

Children and Chores

A few days ago, a friend of mine lamented that she was stopping her new year’s resolution, i.e. to cook more often for her family. When asked, she said that it is because the last time she made the effort, she didn’t get any help at all from her family members – they just ate the meal she had made the painstaking efforts to prepare, and then they left the washing up to her as well. She said she felt like a ‘coolie’.

In the world today where mostly both parents go out to work, we have become dependent on the assistance of the hired help to look after the children and the house. Whereby our parents had clear cut roles while they were bringing us up (mostly without the help of a maid), we on the other hand can’t help it because our lives today are such that having a maid has become a necessity, not a luxury. Even I who don’t have a 9 to 5 job have a part time cleaner who comes in and does the cleaning and ironing for me as I tackle other more pressing matters.

I remember the times when I was growing up, with a bunch of other kids in the house. As we didn’t have a maid, our grandma did everything for us. But as we grew older, house chores were delegated to us – mostly the girls – my cousin, who was the oldest, took charge of the cooking. My older sister was responsible for the laundry, and me…being the youngest, was responsible for making sure that there was enough firewood for the stove. Keeping the house clean (sweeping the floors, tidying up etc) was shared by everybody, though I must say my sister was fond of cleaning the house twice a day. As the older two girls moved out of the house, I was the only girl left. By then I was proficient in the art of cooking ehem…I meant cooking simple meals for us (me and my grandparents), and keeping the house tidy also became a responsibility that I did with pride. Grandma laundered her own things (on hindsight, maybe she didn’t trust me with her fine fabrics!), and I did grandpa’s laundry as well as my own. I didn’t complain, and I did them with a great sense of duty. When I went to the boarding school at the age of 12, I had even more practice at doing everything myself. As and when I went home for the weekend, or the school holidays, I resumed my duties at tackling the household chores with pride, and the sense that I was helping my grandparents. I also felt like I was giving grandma a break, and I knew she loved it that I spoiled her by taking charge of the house again. And I never had a helper for a looong time, until I had the baby. My younger sister came and lived with me for over a year to look after the baby. Since then, I have had no live-in maid, just part time cleaners.

While I understand the economic/social dependency on live-in maids, I believe that this point has not been explained to our children fully. Yes, having a maid means the children can focus on their school, but does that justify raising children who will not lift a finger to help out with house chores at all? I also believe that it is only in Asia that those who can afford to have maids will have one. In Europe and America, for example, part time help, let alone live-in maids, are expensive, so most families do all the house chores themselves. Some families I have come across with in Asia have a maid just for the sake of having a maid – not out of necessity. So, my question is...what is this doing to our children? Can they survive on their own once they leave home? Or will they be coming home with a bagful of dirty laundry for the maid to do? And who is going to clean their room/house? Do they know what to use to mop the floor with? Heck, do they even know what a mop looks like? I’m not even going to even mention the art of cooking.

When I was living in Singapore, I became friends with a nice German family with two children. I remember the wife/mother told me a story of how shocked she was to discover that for three weeks when they were on holiday back in Germany, her children were incapable of looking after themselves. Their rooms were strewn with dirty clothes, the beds were never made, and the bathrooms were filthy. Why? It’s all because in Singapore, they had a live-in maid who did all the cleaning up for them. They got used to having a maid around that they did not bother to do anything. My German friend assessed the situation and when they got back to Singapore, the parents promptly made a regulation that the children were responsible for the cleanliness of their own bedrooms and bathrooms. They had to get up 30 minutes earlier every morning to make their own beds, and clean up their rooms and make sure their bathrooms were clean before they went to school. And it worked.

Teenage Son turned 16 this month…I must say he’s turning out…not bad at all. When he is with me, he’s always the one doing the dishes after lunch or dinner. And he’s responsible for keeping his room clean, or Mommy dearest will blow her top. He’s even asked me to teach him how to cook fried rice, and whenever I’m cooking, he’d sometimes come and stir the gravy (and said he’s cooked it! Hahaha), or at mealtimes, he’d set up the table, get the drinks for everybody and after the meal, ALWAYS thanks me for cooking the meal. And when he feels like getting something from the kitchen, he’d always ask if I wanted a cup of tea, or if he could get me some cheese, or…well, you get the idea. He used to be quite a spoiled child (mom’s guilt trip!), but over the years, my ‘training’ of him has shown fruitful results. To my future daughter-in-law, you’re welcome!

Another friend of mine also has two children, and they too have a live-in maid. However, she has drawn up a ‘house duty’ schedule that the children have to do everyday. When the task is achieved, the child gets a star, and after collecting a number of stars, the child can redeem them for a treat. This is a very good motivation for the children, and I do hope, as the children grow older and more mature, they will understand the difference between extrinsic and intrinsic motivation, and how they should always strive for the intrinsic, though the extrinsic is not necessarily bad.

My point is…think of every household chore as an opportunity to build character. Enlist your children’s help with house chores…not to unload these chores on them, but to make them realize that these in fact are not ‘chores’, but tasks that, once accomplished, show our children that they matter, and their contribution to the family matters too, however small, however mundane it might be. And as a token of appreciation, they can stay up one hour later on one school night to watch their favorite programme. How about that?

Comments are welcome.