TEAMWORK
- There is no 'I' in teamwork
(Text-type:Exposition)
For the past two months, some of you would have known that I am deeply involved in putting up an uncoming show for the school. I feel that it is nothing short of a miracle to bring together a 2-hr performance in that short period of time - plus the fact that it brings together past and present students.
Literally, it has been a challenging time. Our obstacles came in the form of the physical layout of the stage, having to sell that large number of tickets, to even coordinating the timing of rehearsals and many others.
It had also meant many long hours of rehearsals and the sacrifice of personal time and space. It meant giving up certain pleasures, and many times, it affects family and friends. It has meant multi-tasking, and discipline, and at times, pushing one's self to the limits...and having to cope with deadlines and expectations.
I have been lucky.
No matter how tough things get going, there are other individuals who have made good things happen. And this is where I can see the real difference between people who really put their hearts and souls into the running, and those who are just 'passengers', going along for the ride.
There is no 'i' in the spelling of teamwork, and on a bigger scale, the needs of the team takes precedence over the self. If a team is really to move, there must be a mutual belief that this event is going to work, and that everyone is totally committed to it.
Everyone makes up a piece of the bigger picture...if a piece is missing, that picture is incomplete. The size does not matter. So just like the people who make up the show...from the performer, producer, director, emcee...right down to the backstage crew and makeup artist, every one is important. We all need each other.
The whole is, in many ways, greater than the sum of the individual parts.
Teamwork is working together, even when we are apart.
Coming together is a beginning
Keeping it together is a progress
Working together is a success
- Henry Ford
So it is important that everyone respects each other's role and responsibility. The whole idea is to move and inspire, not to find fault and falter. There are times when the tension rides high and nerves are taut, but it is crucial that we never lose sight of what we are working for together.
So my many thanks to
Val - for your sense of focus, for we need your drive for being meticulous.
Eunice - for your enthusiasm and willingness to learn
Nisaa - for your drive and strong sense of responsibility
Shahnaz - for being someone who understands what is going on
Sandra - for looking after the 'small stuff'
Perema - for your dedication and initiative
Kuan Siang - for trying to make things happen
Heng - for really trying to learn new things
Gerard - for being a quick learner
Marie - for looking after the kids behind the scene
Mary & Erwin - for working quietly behind the scene too
And also, special mention to
Malek - for being someone whom I can count on
Zafran - for your sacrifice
Ashraf - for going out of your way to get involved
Gerald - for your eagerness and dedication
and all the wonderful student performers....
Hey people...lets break a leg!
We can do it.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Overwhelmed
(Text-type: Information?)
This week, as part of the writing exercise, the students have been learning a list of words which describes the basic human emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness,excitment...the whole spectrum. They had to learn words which best describe their feelings.
So today, I will share mine...how I am feeling at the moment.
I am definitely overwhelmed.
I am expected to be an octopus with 8 hands doing everything simultaneously.
Help! This duck is sinking.
I know that some of you out there are feeling the same way. Like a swimmer who is barely able to keep his head above water. There is always so much to do, and nothing seems to be complete.
Breathe....breathe..breathe...
It will pass...
(oh yes people....if I hyperventilate in class, get me a paper bag ok?)
(Text-type: Information?)
This week, as part of the writing exercise, the students have been learning a list of words which describes the basic human emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness,excitment...the whole spectrum. They had to learn words which best describe their feelings.
So today, I will share mine...how I am feeling at the moment.
I am definitely overwhelmed.
I am expected to be an octopus with 8 hands doing everything simultaneously.
Help! This duck is sinking.
I know that some of you out there are feeling the same way. Like a swimmer who is barely able to keep his head above water. There is always so much to do, and nothing seems to be complete.
Breathe....breathe..breathe...
It will pass...
(oh yes people....if I hyperventilate in class, get me a paper bag ok?)
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
What is the role of a Parent?
(Text-type: Exposition)
OTTAWA - A CANADIAN court has lifted a 12-year-old girl's grounding,overturning her father's punishment for disobeying his orders to stay off the Internet, his lawyer said on Wednesday.The girl had taken her father to Quebec Superior Court after he refused to allow her to go on a school trip for chatting on website she tried to block, and then posting 'inappropriate' pictures of herself online using a friend's computer.
According to court documents, the girl's Internet transgression was just the latest in a string of broken house rules. Even so, Justice Suzanne Tessier found her punishment too severe.
Today's entry is an idea I borrowed from my brother's blog. He works in the legal area, and thus, has many interesting things to bring up. The above was an article published in a Canadian newspaper, about how a court has overturned a father's punishment on his daughter on the grounds that he is too strict with her.
We have often heard of the expression, "Spare the rod, spoil the child " raised by a camp of people who believe that you need to 'punish' a child physically in order for him to be well- brought up. The other group believes in the 'soft approach', with a lot of counselling , pep talks and anything but to lay a finger, because you would not want to emotionally scar the child.
I am not going to quibble between who is right, and who is wrong. There is no direct answer there, and the debate continues. I would like to take the perpective of the issue that was raised in the newspaper article.
Here are some of the questions that I would like raised:
a) What has happened to the 'rights'of parents in raising a child?
b) On what basis did the judge make her decision and said that the father was too 'severe?"
c) Why on earth would a 12-year old (and with a 'history' of 'broken house rules"?
d) Why would a child take her parents to court?
I am a parent, and my stand is, if a child is still living under my roof, and is under my care and protection, then the child has to abide by the house rules I have laid down. It's just like them having to go to school, and obeying all the school rules.
One of the things that I firmly believe in is that all actions (good or bad) have a consequence, and the individual must take responsibility for the action that they have taken. This instils a sense of discipline, and slowly, imbues a sense of civic- consciousness and social responsibility too.
Yes, as a parent, it is my duty to love, and protect my child. But as a parent, it is my duty too...to raise the child 'right', to instill good, solid values that will anchor this child throughout his life. If my child does wrong, I need to ask, how much of the 'blame' do I need to shoulder? If I punish, it is because of the action & its consequence...and not because the child needs 'to be taught a lesson'.
It is hard being a parent. It is a full time job, and those of you who have read my entry on 'Amanah', you would know how worried I am about fulfilling my obligations. But now, if it means that 'democracy' and 'individual rights' will supercede my rights as a parent, I am simple terrified.
This is the wrong signal given to the young. It is telling them "Look...your parents do not know how to raise you. Poor thing....the court will look after you." If this is so, by all means, I will tell the child, "I am relinquished of my duty. You cannot abide by my rules, then you leave the house."
I know it sounds cruel...maybe, there is just too little information on this case for me to make my comments. But when the courts rule in favour of the child over the parent, it is making a statement almost as if to say, "You are not a good parent.!" When that happens, and I have lost my dignity, go ahead, find someone else whom you think will be able to raise the child right.
I have reserved my jugement about the child. But here is a scary thought...if all children think that they can go to court, and sue their parents for being "too strict; then what does it say about the future generation of the world?
I am horrified, terrified and petrified.
(Text-type: Exposition)
OTTAWA - A CANADIAN court has lifted a 12-year-old girl's grounding,overturning her father's punishment for disobeying his orders to stay off the Internet, his lawyer said on Wednesday.The girl had taken her father to Quebec Superior Court after he refused to allow her to go on a school trip for chatting on website she tried to block, and then posting 'inappropriate' pictures of herself online using a friend's computer.
According to court documents, the girl's Internet transgression was just the latest in a string of broken house rules. Even so, Justice Suzanne Tessier found her punishment too severe.
Today's entry is an idea I borrowed from my brother's blog. He works in the legal area, and thus, has many interesting things to bring up. The above was an article published in a Canadian newspaper, about how a court has overturned a father's punishment on his daughter on the grounds that he is too strict with her.
We have often heard of the expression, "Spare the rod, spoil the child " raised by a camp of people who believe that you need to 'punish' a child physically in order for him to be well- brought up. The other group believes in the 'soft approach', with a lot of counselling , pep talks and anything but to lay a finger, because you would not want to emotionally scar the child.
I am not going to quibble between who is right, and who is wrong. There is no direct answer there, and the debate continues. I would like to take the perpective of the issue that was raised in the newspaper article.
Here are some of the questions that I would like raised:
a) What has happened to the 'rights'of parents in raising a child?
b) On what basis did the judge make her decision and said that the father was too 'severe?"
c) Why on earth would a 12-year old (and with a 'history' of 'broken house rules"?
d) Why would a child take her parents to court?
I am a parent, and my stand is, if a child is still living under my roof, and is under my care and protection, then the child has to abide by the house rules I have laid down. It's just like them having to go to school, and obeying all the school rules.
One of the things that I firmly believe in is that all actions (good or bad) have a consequence, and the individual must take responsibility for the action that they have taken. This instils a sense of discipline, and slowly, imbues a sense of civic- consciousness and social responsibility too.
Yes, as a parent, it is my duty to love, and protect my child. But as a parent, it is my duty too...to raise the child 'right', to instill good, solid values that will anchor this child throughout his life. If my child does wrong, I need to ask, how much of the 'blame' do I need to shoulder? If I punish, it is because of the action & its consequence...and not because the child needs 'to be taught a lesson'.
It is hard being a parent. It is a full time job, and those of you who have read my entry on 'Amanah', you would know how worried I am about fulfilling my obligations. But now, if it means that 'democracy' and 'individual rights' will supercede my rights as a parent, I am simple terrified.
This is the wrong signal given to the young. It is telling them "Look...your parents do not know how to raise you. Poor thing....the court will look after you." If this is so, by all means, I will tell the child, "I am relinquished of my duty. You cannot abide by my rules, then you leave the house."
I know it sounds cruel...maybe, there is just too little information on this case for me to make my comments. But when the courts rule in favour of the child over the parent, it is making a statement almost as if to say, "You are not a good parent.!" When that happens, and I have lost my dignity, go ahead, find someone else whom you think will be able to raise the child right.
I have reserved my jugement about the child. But here is a scary thought...if all children think that they can go to court, and sue their parents for being "too strict; then what does it say about the future generation of the world?
I am horrified, terrified and petrified.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Voice Within
It's back to school...and I am at it again.
I keep on telling the kids that if they want to engage their readers, all they need to do is to 'write with a voice'.
I am not a good writer...I know that there are many things that I should do in order to improve. But I find it so much easier to write about things that really happen that to create one and basing it on my imagination.
There are many good blog writers out there in the mega wide world of the internet. If you are selective enough, and reflective, you might be able to find some interesting writers.
I still prefer the printed page though. Nothing beats having a good book to read, especially semi-autobiographical ones....so those of you who like to read, do pick up Torey Haden's books. They are beautiful...
It's back to school...and I am at it again.
I keep on telling the kids that if they want to engage their readers, all they need to do is to 'write with a voice'.
I am not a good writer...I know that there are many things that I should do in order to improve. But I find it so much easier to write about things that really happen that to create one and basing it on my imagination.
There are many good blog writers out there in the mega wide world of the internet. If you are selective enough, and reflective, you might be able to find some interesting writers.
I still prefer the printed page though. Nothing beats having a good book to read, especially semi-autobiographical ones....so those of you who like to read, do pick up Torey Haden's books. They are beautiful...
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Another Incredible Tale?
Here's another entry. Watching Incredible Tales does trigger memories that I thought I had long buried. I do not write to scare, that's not the intention. But whether you believe, is very much up to you. I think I wrote this in one of the very first few entries when I started blogging two years ago...so it is somehow in some archive.
Scientifically, the cynics call it mass hysteria. Me? I think that it comes about because of the a moment's folly. Some people dabble with the occult, or with the unknown. Sigh, why do they forget that the one power that they should really count on should be the Almighty?
Anyway, I had expected it to happen; whether sooner or later. Young minds are naturally curious, especially of the unexplained. They seem to think that they are invincible...and there is a sense of bravado when a group gathers together to consult the supernatural beings.
Let me give you this advice...if you decide to call on them, make sure you know how to send them back to the other realm...otherwise, this will happen.
What triggered it off?
I am not sure, but when it did, all you would see is a girl starting to scream...wildly, loudly, shrilly...as if the banshee is wailing for the sailors to dive into the sea, into her open arms. It is a high-pitch scream...and an exhausting one, for it spreads...as the girl lay writhing on the floor, another one joins her..and another and another..until you have two or three in a unholy cacaphony of shrieks...and sobs...and scratchy laughter.
They looked as if they were down with fits, for one was foaming at the mouth. She hit her head against the table hard, and concussed, she lay out cold on the floor, but her body still twitching in convulsive fits.
Those who were watching this little drama seemed frozen in fear...both the boys and girls, pale beyond words, not knowing what had really happened...all they knew what what is was like to be frightened...really, really frightened.
The main screamer was carried into the small room, with two men trying to pin her down. She was still violent, with a torrent of unintelligible words spewing from her in short harsh grunts.
Why I was in the room, I cannot remember, but I knew she was cold to touch...or was it me? I tried to pray...but the words kept getting stuck in my throat...I was holding her down...no...it felt as if I was bound to her...and when she suddenly opened her eyes wide and put her face in front of mine...I jumped back in fear.
"Don't be frightened. I need you to be strong." commanded the wise one.
I blinked and found it even so difficult to swallow my saliva. Slowly, the hairs at the back of the neck stood on end and the room became deadly quiet. I thought she had run out of steam.
"Who are you? Why did you come? Why did you disturb her?" asked the wise one in a firm voice.
"I am so tired...help me...let me sleep...let me go please..." I heard her plead, tears running down her cheeks. Her head rolled down to the side, and the shoulder sagged. The tension I felt in her cold hands were gone.
"I said...who are you? Why are you here?" the wise one got louder. He placed a small amulet at the back of her head.
This time the reaction was immediate, and I was nearly pulled down when she jerked her head. Her eyes rolled wildly, and the drool fell from the side of her mouth.
"She called me! She;s MINE!!! MINE!!!" yelled the harsh male voice.
It was incredulous. Had I not been there, I would not believe it...Whose voice was it that came from this person I knew? Where was the person I knew? ...and this cold, eerie voice made me shudder.
"Go home...I command you...Leave her...leave her!"
"No! NO!...they are mine!!!!You cannot make me go away..."the voice took on a menacing tone. 'He' hissed and jerked, and I got kicked at the side.
How did I get myself into this ? How come I could not pray? God...don't forsake me please...My thoughts too began to jump at this amazing turn of events.
"Close your eyes...don't look at her...but you must trust me...you must be strong...Can? I won't hurt her...but I got to fight him...so do as I tell you....never let go of your hold..." I looked at the wise man...I did not know whether to believe him or not...for what I saw in his hand...was a weapon I knew that could have a deadly use.
There was no time to react, and I think , that moment was just to surreal.
I closed my eyes..and kept them shut while I heard her heart-wrenching screams...the harsh male voice...that kept alternating...and I think , at one point...I joined in too, screaming at the top of my voice.
I don't know what happened...
Suddenly everything went still, and the wise one shook my shoulder...
"It's over...she's going to be ok..."
I slowly allowed myself to see...There she was...slumped over the chair, but alive because I could see her breathing in and out quite regularly. I looked at my hands...There were deep, long scratch marks, even though I had worn a long sleeve blouse. I knew....I was not dreaming.
Kids...be it the ouija board...or spirit of the coin..or whatever, please, don't play these games...you'll never know what might just come into, or over you.
Here's another entry. Watching Incredible Tales does trigger memories that I thought I had long buried. I do not write to scare, that's not the intention. But whether you believe, is very much up to you. I think I wrote this in one of the very first few entries when I started blogging two years ago...so it is somehow in some archive.
Scientifically, the cynics call it mass hysteria. Me? I think that it comes about because of the a moment's folly. Some people dabble with the occult, or with the unknown. Sigh, why do they forget that the one power that they should really count on should be the Almighty?
Anyway, I had expected it to happen; whether sooner or later. Young minds are naturally curious, especially of the unexplained. They seem to think that they are invincible...and there is a sense of bravado when a group gathers together to consult the supernatural beings.
Let me give you this advice...if you decide to call on them, make sure you know how to send them back to the other realm...otherwise, this will happen.
What triggered it off?
I am not sure, but when it did, all you would see is a girl starting to scream...wildly, loudly, shrilly...as if the banshee is wailing for the sailors to dive into the sea, into her open arms. It is a high-pitch scream...and an exhausting one, for it spreads...as the girl lay writhing on the floor, another one joins her..and another and another..until you have two or three in a unholy cacaphony of shrieks...and sobs...and scratchy laughter.
They looked as if they were down with fits, for one was foaming at the mouth. She hit her head against the table hard, and concussed, she lay out cold on the floor, but her body still twitching in convulsive fits.
Those who were watching this little drama seemed frozen in fear...both the boys and girls, pale beyond words, not knowing what had really happened...all they knew what what is was like to be frightened...really, really frightened.
The main screamer was carried into the small room, with two men trying to pin her down. She was still violent, with a torrent of unintelligible words spewing from her in short harsh grunts.
Why I was in the room, I cannot remember, but I knew she was cold to touch...or was it me? I tried to pray...but the words kept getting stuck in my throat...I was holding her down...no...it felt as if I was bound to her...and when she suddenly opened her eyes wide and put her face in front of mine...I jumped back in fear.
"Don't be frightened. I need you to be strong." commanded the wise one.
I blinked and found it even so difficult to swallow my saliva. Slowly, the hairs at the back of the neck stood on end and the room became deadly quiet. I thought she had run out of steam.
"Who are you? Why did you come? Why did you disturb her?" asked the wise one in a firm voice.
"I am so tired...help me...let me sleep...let me go please..." I heard her plead, tears running down her cheeks. Her head rolled down to the side, and the shoulder sagged. The tension I felt in her cold hands were gone.
"I said...who are you? Why are you here?" the wise one got louder. He placed a small amulet at the back of her head.
This time the reaction was immediate, and I was nearly pulled down when she jerked her head. Her eyes rolled wildly, and the drool fell from the side of her mouth.
"She called me! She;s MINE!!! MINE!!!" yelled the harsh male voice.
It was incredulous. Had I not been there, I would not believe it...Whose voice was it that came from this person I knew? Where was the person I knew? ...and this cold, eerie voice made me shudder.
"Go home...I command you...Leave her...leave her!"
"No! NO!...they are mine!!!!You cannot make me go away..."the voice took on a menacing tone. 'He' hissed and jerked, and I got kicked at the side.
How did I get myself into this ? How come I could not pray? God...don't forsake me please...My thoughts too began to jump at this amazing turn of events.
"Close your eyes...don't look at her...but you must trust me...you must be strong...Can? I won't hurt her...but I got to fight him...so do as I tell you....never let go of your hold..." I looked at the wise man...I did not know whether to believe him or not...for what I saw in his hand...was a weapon I knew that could have a deadly use.
There was no time to react, and I think , that moment was just to surreal.
I closed my eyes..and kept them shut while I heard her heart-wrenching screams...the harsh male voice...that kept alternating...and I think , at one point...I joined in too, screaming at the top of my voice.
I don't know what happened...
Suddenly everything went still, and the wise one shook my shoulder...
"It's over...she's going to be ok..."
I slowly allowed myself to see...There she was...slumped over the chair, but alive because I could see her breathing in and out quite regularly. I looked at my hands...There were deep, long scratch marks, even though I had worn a long sleeve blouse. I knew....I was not dreaming.
Kids...be it the ouija board...or spirit of the coin..or whatever, please, don't play these games...you'll never know what might just come into, or over you.
The Most Important Part of Your Body
Geesh...why am I having writer's block?
There's so many things I want to write about, but the words simply cannot be translated into the written form. So here is something which I found over the net..an inspirational tale. Kudos to the writer who managed to come up with this beautiful story.
My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer. When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, "My ears, Mommy."
She said, "No. Many people are 'deaf'. Many hear, but do they really listen? You keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon."
Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes."
She looked at me wisely and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are "blind". They look but cannot see.
Then last year, my grandma died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry.
My mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandma. She asked me, "Do you know the most important body part yet, my child?"
I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the confusion on my face and told me, "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in your life. For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you as wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson."
She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder."
I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?"
She replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, sweetheart. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it."
Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of OTHERS.
You are a friend and whenever you want, you may cry on my shoulder!!!
- by unknown
translated into the written form.
Awww....
I hope my shoulders will always be broad enough to others to rest their heads...and that there are other shoulders out there to rest on when I need one too.
For all of my kids out there...here's a dedication for you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sc7mcjFOWJg
It's called "A Shoulder to Cry on"
Geesh...why am I having writer's block?
There's so many things I want to write about, but the words simply cannot be translated into the written form. So here is something which I found over the net..an inspirational tale. Kudos to the writer who managed to come up with this beautiful story.
My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer. When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, "My ears, Mommy."
She said, "No. Many people are 'deaf'. Many hear, but do they really listen? You keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon."
Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes."
She looked at me wisely and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are "blind". They look but cannot see.
Then last year, my grandma died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry.
My mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandma. She asked me, "Do you know the most important body part yet, my child?"
I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the confusion on my face and told me, "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in your life. For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you as wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson."
She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder."
I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?"
She replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, sweetheart. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it."
Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of OTHERS.
You are a friend and whenever you want, you may cry on my shoulder!!!
- by unknown
translated into the written form.
Awww....
I hope my shoulders will always be broad enough to others to rest their heads...and that there are other shoulders out there to rest on when I need one too.
For all of my kids out there...here's a dedication for you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sc7mcjFOWJg
It's called "A Shoulder to Cry on"
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Coming Back Down to Earth
I realise that this has been one of the longest breaks I took from recording down my thoughts in my blog. Ya..a little melodramatic, but I actually got into the habit of writing something on a daily basis. But work is taking me away from what I like to do.
Wait a minute...Work? Isn't it supposed to be the holidays?
Technically, it is the holidays, but no. I have been clocking the same hours I do on a regular school day, and now with the concert coming up, I am high strung again. But fortunately, the concert is coming along, and I am glad that my younger colleages are really learning the ropes about how things are run...and seeing the need to really keep calm when feathers are being ruffled, and egos are bruised.
Sigh...maybe in a way, I am suffering from Osmonds withdrawals. You know, the excitment had really built up to such a height, that I wonder if it was really me doing all those crazy stunts.
Do you know that for the past two nights, I have been trying to jot down my thoughts about the Osmonds concert, but really found it so hard to do so? How do I explain this?
I guess I will be grateful that I got to meet them all in persons, and because of them, got reconnected with a lot of my old friends. At the concert itself, while the ladies were going crazy when Donny came down to the audience, I was calm in my seat. Hehehe...nice to hear that according to Glen Ong on 95FM that his mother and mother-in-law got to grope...er...hug Donny. Perhaps the only time when there was a tinge of envy creeping in was when he serenaded Mrs Nathan with "Are you lonesome tonight"
But I am so glad that the show was more about the brothers...Alan (who at one point threw his cane and started dancing),Wayne with his crinkly smile, Merrill (the ever handsome silver fox) and Jay....Hey for a 53-year old guy, his drum solo was OUT OF THIS WORLD! Go Jay go! (I wish they had included " turn the beat around...got to hear percussions..turn it upside down...got to feel it...got to feel it..."
The waves of nostalgia washed over me. I was a teenager again, buoyed by their rhythmic beats. And even when they sang the selection of songs which they claimed never made it as #1 singles...I realised how the lyrics were unleashed in my head...from "I, I , I ...to the sweet melody of "At the Rainbow's End." I loved every moment of it...from"The Proud One, Love Me for a Reason, Let Me In...to songs from "The Plan" album.
Did I groove?hehehehehe...
I must say that our audience is still very sedate...We still were self-conscious and clapped politely at the end of each performance. The first few who went to the barrier (well, we had to protect the President right?), were shooed back. It really took Donny's walk among the audience to get the 'aunties' (and some uncles) into a screaming frenzy.
The nostalgia is tinged with sadness. It struck me that the 50th Anniversary concert is their way of saying goodbye to their friends. I am glad that for this leg of the concert, the spotlight was more on the older brothers...and Merrill got back his spot as the lead singer.
They were really giving it all to their fans...and it was an evening that I would not forget so easily.
Goodbye Osmond Brothers...thank you for being part of my growing up memories. Your music will always be special to me.
I realise that this has been one of the longest breaks I took from recording down my thoughts in my blog. Ya..a little melodramatic, but I actually got into the habit of writing something on a daily basis. But work is taking me away from what I like to do.
Wait a minute...Work? Isn't it supposed to be the holidays?
Technically, it is the holidays, but no. I have been clocking the same hours I do on a regular school day, and now with the concert coming up, I am high strung again. But fortunately, the concert is coming along, and I am glad that my younger colleages are really learning the ropes about how things are run...and seeing the need to really keep calm when feathers are being ruffled, and egos are bruised.
Sigh...maybe in a way, I am suffering from Osmonds withdrawals. You know, the excitment had really built up to such a height, that I wonder if it was really me doing all those crazy stunts.
Do you know that for the past two nights, I have been trying to jot down my thoughts about the Osmonds concert, but really found it so hard to do so? How do I explain this?
I guess I will be grateful that I got to meet them all in persons, and because of them, got reconnected with a lot of my old friends. At the concert itself, while the ladies were going crazy when Donny came down to the audience, I was calm in my seat. Hehehe...nice to hear that according to Glen Ong on 95FM that his mother and mother-in-law got to grope...er...hug Donny. Perhaps the only time when there was a tinge of envy creeping in was when he serenaded Mrs Nathan with "Are you lonesome tonight"
But I am so glad that the show was more about the brothers...Alan (who at one point threw his cane and started dancing),Wayne with his crinkly smile, Merrill (the ever handsome silver fox) and Jay....Hey for a 53-year old guy, his drum solo was OUT OF THIS WORLD! Go Jay go! (I wish they had included " turn the beat around...got to hear percussions..turn it upside down...got to feel it...got to feel it..."
The waves of nostalgia washed over me. I was a teenager again, buoyed by their rhythmic beats. And even when they sang the selection of songs which they claimed never made it as #1 singles...I realised how the lyrics were unleashed in my head...from "I, I , I ...to the sweet melody of "At the Rainbow's End." I loved every moment of it...from"The Proud One, Love Me for a Reason, Let Me In...to songs from "The Plan" album.
Did I groove?hehehehehe...
I must say that our audience is still very sedate...We still were self-conscious and clapped politely at the end of each performance. The first few who went to the barrier (well, we had to protect the President right?), were shooed back. It really took Donny's walk among the audience to get the 'aunties' (and some uncles) into a screaming frenzy.
The nostalgia is tinged with sadness. It struck me that the 50th Anniversary concert is their way of saying goodbye to their friends. I am glad that for this leg of the concert, the spotlight was more on the older brothers...and Merrill got back his spot as the lead singer.
They were really giving it all to their fans...and it was an evening that I would not forget so easily.
Goodbye Osmond Brothers...thank you for being part of my growing up memories. Your music will always be special to me.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A TeenyBopper Again
It has been another crazy but fabulous day.
The kids woke me up at 5.30am. Iffah & Akmal had actually gotten up early to make a special breakfast...actually for Father's Day...so groggily, I had a delicious toast and mushroom omelette. Thank you sweethearts...
We had decided to spend the morning at the movies...so went down to Downtown East for "Kung Fu Panda."...had a good laugh...for Po really reminds me of someone...One takeaway, " Yesterday was history, tomorrow's a mystery; today is a gift...That is why it is called Present"...corny, cheesy, but a great line to use. So go ahead and have a good time. It's a good balance between something the kids enjoy and adult humour.
We then tried the new BBQ Chicken...not bad...but a tad expensive.
We then decided to bowl. This is where my kids (who are Wii experts) realise the difference between holding the nunchuck and a real bowling ball.
So what was the highlight of the day?
Thanks to (Dr) Janelene Leong, I got to know the Osmonds' flight detail...so there we were, a small group of 'aunties' who turned into teenaged groupies. There were only a few of us, and the media people who were there were too young to understand the hype.
But hey, got to meet more ardent and faithful fans from Japan. These two ladies not only flew in from Japan to meet their idols, but they also timed their flight so that they could be at the airport...So there we were...a small group and I am sure that the Osmonds were startled to see us.
Yea...yea...yea...that's the whole beauty...no one knew they were arriving...so we had them to ourselves!!! I had to remind myself that a) I am married...b) I am not supposed to throw myself at them c)they were surrounded by their wives...but who cares?! Hehehehe...no lah...did behave though the group and I broke out in song several times. (yah...there goes my reputation for being a prim and proper person. What will my students think of me?!!!)
I finally got to meet Jay face-to-face...and it is a lifetime dream. Let me tell you that the Osmonds, up close, are very nice people. Absolutely no airs about them. Donny still looked gorgeous, but he seemed tired. Wayne was the friendliest, and Marie...oh so beautiful. She is friendly, and spoke to us as if we have been friends for years. I will never forget this...
For those who really don't get it...especially the younger ones, let me tell you that one day, you will. It means that a dream you once had...when you were much younger, can still come true.
Like the Dragon Scroll...and the Wise Turtle...you just have to believe...especially in yourself. You can make things happen.
It has been another crazy but fabulous day.
The kids woke me up at 5.30am. Iffah & Akmal had actually gotten up early to make a special breakfast...actually for Father's Day...so groggily, I had a delicious toast and mushroom omelette. Thank you sweethearts...
We had decided to spend the morning at the movies...so went down to Downtown East for "Kung Fu Panda."...had a good laugh...for Po really reminds me of someone...One takeaway, " Yesterday was history, tomorrow's a mystery; today is a gift...That is why it is called Present"...corny, cheesy, but a great line to use. So go ahead and have a good time. It's a good balance between something the kids enjoy and adult humour.
We then tried the new BBQ Chicken...not bad...but a tad expensive.
We then decided to bowl. This is where my kids (who are Wii experts) realise the difference between holding the nunchuck and a real bowling ball.
So what was the highlight of the day?
Thanks to (Dr) Janelene Leong, I got to know the Osmonds' flight detail...so there we were, a small group of 'aunties' who turned into teenaged groupies. There were only a few of us, and the media people who were there were too young to understand the hype.
But hey, got to meet more ardent and faithful fans from Japan. These two ladies not only flew in from Japan to meet their idols, but they also timed their flight so that they could be at the airport...So there we were...a small group and I am sure that the Osmonds were startled to see us.
Yea...yea...yea...that's the whole beauty...no one knew they were arriving...so we had them to ourselves!!! I had to remind myself that a) I am married...b) I am not supposed to throw myself at them c)they were surrounded by their wives...but who cares?! Hehehehe...no lah...did behave though the group and I broke out in song several times. (yah...there goes my reputation for being a prim and proper person. What will my students think of me?!!!)
I finally got to meet Jay face-to-face...and it is a lifetime dream. Let me tell you that the Osmonds, up close, are very nice people. Absolutely no airs about them. Donny still looked gorgeous, but he seemed tired. Wayne was the friendliest, and Marie...oh so beautiful. She is friendly, and spoke to us as if we have been friends for years. I will never forget this...
For those who really don't get it...especially the younger ones, let me tell you that one day, you will. It means that a dream you once had...when you were much younger, can still come true.
Like the Dragon Scroll...and the Wise Turtle...you just have to believe...especially in yourself. You can make things happen.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Being Thankful
Life is such that it throws you curveballs when you least expect them. Of course, yesterday, I felt as if I was at the top of the world. The euphoria of having accomplished something so important was really great...so much so that I was awake for most of the night (ya...and ended up watching Euro 08...by the way, I am rooting for the underdogs...so go Portugal...kekekeke)
Anyway, the high did not feel very long. Those people who made up the Masters of Arts (Educational Management) are a small group, and in many ways, we have grown together during the 2 1/2 years of hardship and struggles. So while some of us rejoiced at getting good results, some were really down.
You see, the whole course boils down to the last crucial module: - the Critical Inquiry. It involves tedious hours of reading and research (and research means data and figures which have to be interpreted: in short - statistics...in this case, I had to force myself to look at numbers!) If you do not do well in this module, it is likely that you will not end up with a masters degree...more likely an advanced diploma of some kind.
So it turned out that there were casualties...and that hurt.
Because these people are very hardworking and dedicated educators...who really put their heart and soul, and endless sacrifices in their pursuits of a higher degree. Sutdying is never done for fun...it is not for a higher pay either...for a masters does not mean translate to a bigger pay package here in Singapore.
So I feel their pain, despite my own happiness. The success has been made bittersweet.
However, I cannot forget the people who will share my achievement.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart (in random order)
Abah and Mak, for your endless support, encouragement and prayers
Zul,my significant other, for his endless patience
Zafran, Zarifah & Akmal, for their understanding at having an absent mum on many occasions
Bapak & Mak...esp Bapak who took the trouble to pick me up from classes
My siblings & in-laws
My colleagues for their support too (esp Val & Myreen)
My P& VP for allowing me to take my Advanced PDL
My many, many kids for pushing me on
My students...who had to miss remedials and some lessons while I pursued my dream
and of course, a prayer of thanks to Allah, for HIS Guidance and Blessings.
I am nothing without all of them.
Thank you...thank you...thank you...
Life is such that it throws you curveballs when you least expect them. Of course, yesterday, I felt as if I was at the top of the world. The euphoria of having accomplished something so important was really great...so much so that I was awake for most of the night (ya...and ended up watching Euro 08...by the way, I am rooting for the underdogs...so go Portugal...kekekeke)
Anyway, the high did not feel very long. Those people who made up the Masters of Arts (Educational Management) are a small group, and in many ways, we have grown together during the 2 1/2 years of hardship and struggles. So while some of us rejoiced at getting good results, some were really down.
You see, the whole course boils down to the last crucial module: - the Critical Inquiry. It involves tedious hours of reading and research (and research means data and figures which have to be interpreted: in short - statistics...in this case, I had to force myself to look at numbers!) If you do not do well in this module, it is likely that you will not end up with a masters degree...more likely an advanced diploma of some kind.
So it turned out that there were casualties...and that hurt.
Because these people are very hardworking and dedicated educators...who really put their heart and soul, and endless sacrifices in their pursuits of a higher degree. Sutdying is never done for fun...it is not for a higher pay either...for a masters does not mean translate to a bigger pay package here in Singapore.
So I feel their pain, despite my own happiness. The success has been made bittersweet.
However, I cannot forget the people who will share my achievement.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart (in random order)
Abah and Mak, for your endless support, encouragement and prayers
Zul,my significant other, for his endless patience
Zafran, Zarifah & Akmal, for their understanding at having an absent mum on many occasions
Bapak & Mak...esp Bapak who took the trouble to pick me up from classes
My siblings & in-laws
My colleagues for their support too (esp Val & Myreen)
My P& VP for allowing me to take my Advanced PDL
My many, many kids for pushing me on
My students...who had to miss remedials and some lessons while I pursued my dream
and of course, a prayer of thanks to Allah, for HIS Guidance and Blessings.
I am nothing without all of them.
Thank you...thank you...thank you...
Friday, June 13, 2008
They Just Don't Get It
So what is the mega-story that was supposed to have come up?
Well, if you have been observant enough, you would have found a picture of me in the Life section of Straits Times today. Haha...my single shot at fame...yet it featured my friends and I as purple groupies.
Yes...yes...for the umpteenth time...I am an Osmond fan...and yes, I have spent a lot of money buying those tickets. But it will be nice to be able to re-live those wonder years again...even for just a little while. I don't care if people laugh at me...or what the kids in school will think (oopps...shall worry about that later), but I shall have fun at the concert...minus a purple sock or two. By the way, the love of my life has always been Jay, not Donny.
But it was a blast meeting up with old friends...Jan Leong, Judy, Linda, Melanie and good old Veron were at Singapore Press Holdings where we had the photo shot...actually Jan was more interested in wanting to find a way to meet the Osmonds in person.
But there we were...all decked in purple (I did chicken out and wore lilac instead). The reporters were young, and probably never heard of the Osmond phenomenon. They were quite amazed at the group of 'aunties' who came with old scrap books and other Osmond memorabilia. Hehehe...still have that old precious Osmond annual from 1976...antique.
We were told to do all kinds of poses...and this young photographer kept her comments as she watched our antics...the only question she asked my daughter was "Why do they keep singing the same old song?" Hahahahahaha... we were told to capture the 'mood'...so we kept repeating the refrain from "Love Me For a Reason."
See, I told you right? They just don't get it!
Anyway, I found another reason to celebrate.
I PASSED! I PASSED! I PASSED!
Will write tommorow to thank all those who have helped me through the 2 1/2 years of my studies...I earned my Masters degree....
So what is the mega-story that was supposed to have come up?
Well, if you have been observant enough, you would have found a picture of me in the Life section of Straits Times today. Haha...my single shot at fame...yet it featured my friends and I as purple groupies.
Yes...yes...for the umpteenth time...I am an Osmond fan...and yes, I have spent a lot of money buying those tickets. But it will be nice to be able to re-live those wonder years again...even for just a little while. I don't care if people laugh at me...or what the kids in school will think (oopps...shall worry about that later), but I shall have fun at the concert...minus a purple sock or two. By the way, the love of my life has always been Jay, not Donny.
But it was a blast meeting up with old friends...Jan Leong, Judy, Linda, Melanie and good old Veron were at Singapore Press Holdings where we had the photo shot...actually Jan was more interested in wanting to find a way to meet the Osmonds in person.
But there we were...all decked in purple (I did chicken out and wore lilac instead). The reporters were young, and probably never heard of the Osmond phenomenon. They were quite amazed at the group of 'aunties' who came with old scrap books and other Osmond memorabilia. Hehehe...still have that old precious Osmond annual from 1976...antique.
We were told to do all kinds of poses...and this young photographer kept her comments as she watched our antics...the only question she asked my daughter was "Why do they keep singing the same old song?" Hahahahahaha... we were told to capture the 'mood'...so we kept repeating the refrain from "Love Me For a Reason."
See, I told you right? They just don't get it!
Anyway, I found another reason to celebrate.
I PASSED! I PASSED! I PASSED!
Will write tommorow to thank all those who have helped me through the 2 1/2 years of my studies...I earned my Masters degree....
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
It's Hard to Break a Habit.
Today's entry will be a short one...cos a mega one is coming (hehehe..you'll find out tomorrow).
Anyway, this is a timely reminder about habits...and why it is so hard to learn, un-learn and re-learn things.
Why is it so difficult to break A HABIT?
Because:
Remove the A, you have HABIT
Remove the H, you do have ABIT
Remove the A, you still have BIT
And remove the B, sigh, you are still stuck with IT!
I can't remember where I learnt that joke, but you know how terribly hard it becomes to break a bad habit...like my own vices. And I have been told, that if you want to make something into a habit, you need to do it at least 32 times, in 3 cycles.
So since it is a terrible chore to wean me from my chocolate addiction..of picking up a piece of comfort food at least once a day...I think I shall not even try...hehehe
Today's entry will be a short one...cos a mega one is coming (hehehe..you'll find out tomorrow).
Anyway, this is a timely reminder about habits...and why it is so hard to learn, un-learn and re-learn things.
Why is it so difficult to break A HABIT?
Because:
Remove the A, you have HABIT
Remove the H, you do have ABIT
Remove the A, you still have BIT
And remove the B, sigh, you are still stuck with IT!
I can't remember where I learnt that joke, but you know how terribly hard it becomes to break a bad habit...like my own vices. And I have been told, that if you want to make something into a habit, you need to do it at least 32 times, in 3 cycles.
So since it is a terrible chore to wean me from my chocolate addiction..of picking up a piece of comfort food at least once a day...I think I shall not even try...hehehe
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
De-cluttering: Cleansing the Mind & Soul
I have been on a cleaning spree eversince the weekend...don't worry sweetheart, it is not a nesting instinct(!!!)I just get a real kick out of throwing things away.
I confess...I am a closet hoarder...Literally...I tend to keep so many barang-barang that would put the karung-guni man to shame. I think it's a woman's thing...and I was nearly cured when my mother-in-law gave me some gifts that belonged to my Other Half when I gave birth to Zafran...The classic!!!She kept his feeding bottles...so those stuff were nearly 28 years old!!! Feed my baby with them...no way...
Sorry I digress...(but then again...I always do...)
I still have Zafran's first Disney blankie (awwwwww....so cute)...and he'll kill me for telling the world about his favourite Barney comforter. I know if I dig hard enough, I'll find boxes with memorabilia of my schoolgirl days...my autograph book and loads and loads of journals.
I also have more than 200 postcards and letters the Other Half and I wrote to each other the two years he was stationed in Germany...Haha...this is something the younger generation will miss out..how many of you will get to archive your e-mails or sms?
Again I digress...
I spent the good half of my weekend just clearing and throwing away stuff...I must say that I did my part in the recycling process too...putting aside things that can be re-used, or giving away stuff that others can use.
And in the process, I felt more cheery. Maybe the feng shui thingy does have its good points...that when you de-clutter your possessions...you get rid of stagnant, redundant energy, and re-vitalise yourself.
I do feel a lot better...but I have a long way to go...my table at school is still knee-deep in mess. ...anyone free to help?
I have been on a cleaning spree eversince the weekend...don't worry sweetheart, it is not a nesting instinct(!!!)I just get a real kick out of throwing things away.
I confess...I am a closet hoarder...Literally...I tend to keep so many barang-barang that would put the karung-guni man to shame. I think it's a woman's thing...and I was nearly cured when my mother-in-law gave me some gifts that belonged to my Other Half when I gave birth to Zafran...The classic!!!She kept his feeding bottles...so those stuff were nearly 28 years old!!! Feed my baby with them...no way...
Sorry I digress...(but then again...I always do...)
I still have Zafran's first Disney blankie (awwwwww....so cute)...and he'll kill me for telling the world about his favourite Barney comforter. I know if I dig hard enough, I'll find boxes with memorabilia of my schoolgirl days...my autograph book and loads and loads of journals.
I also have more than 200 postcards and letters the Other Half and I wrote to each other the two years he was stationed in Germany...Haha...this is something the younger generation will miss out..how many of you will get to archive your e-mails or sms?
Again I digress...
I spent the good half of my weekend just clearing and throwing away stuff...I must say that I did my part in the recycling process too...putting aside things that can be re-used, or giving away stuff that others can use.
And in the process, I felt more cheery. Maybe the feng shui thingy does have its good points...that when you de-clutter your possessions...you get rid of stagnant, redundant energy, and re-vitalise yourself.
I do feel a lot better...but I have a long way to go...my table at school is still knee-deep in mess. ...anyone free to help?
Monday, June 9, 2008
I Dance in My Dreams
Someone today asked me why I chose the name as my moniker. The answer is simple...in my dreams, I can dance. This is me : - the dreamer.
I have two left feet...I am clumsy and klutzy by nature. I bump into walls, and fall off chairs. My sense of coordination leaves much to be desired...and the jerky gyrations I do leave me certain that I have no rhythm gene in my DNA make-up.
My only public attempt was in early school days, and I ended up being the laughing stock because I simply was out of sync, and the plates I used as props came crashing on the floor.Never again...
But I love music...I love sounds...I love movements...And I love to dream.
The dreamer in me is my quiet, private self. The dreamer in me harbours hopes and wishes...and only if I can picture myself doing something so well, that I will make my dreams come true.
But alas, the aptitude for dance is simply not there.
So people...Starlightmoondancer...is the sensitive, romantic soul, who twirls, sways, pirouettes forever in a surreal world of endless lyrical music, watched by no one, under the beautiful full moon, and the glittering stars.
Someone today asked me why I chose the name as my moniker. The answer is simple...in my dreams, I can dance. This is me : - the dreamer.
I have two left feet...I am clumsy and klutzy by nature. I bump into walls, and fall off chairs. My sense of coordination leaves much to be desired...and the jerky gyrations I do leave me certain that I have no rhythm gene in my DNA make-up.
My only public attempt was in early school days, and I ended up being the laughing stock because I simply was out of sync, and the plates I used as props came crashing on the floor.Never again...
But I love music...I love sounds...I love movements...And I love to dream.
The dreamer in me is my quiet, private self. The dreamer in me harbours hopes and wishes...and only if I can picture myself doing something so well, that I will make my dreams come true.
But alas, the aptitude for dance is simply not there.
So people...Starlightmoondancer...is the sensitive, romantic soul, who twirls, sways, pirouettes forever in a surreal world of endless lyrical music, watched by no one, under the beautiful full moon, and the glittering stars.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Incredible Tales
I decided to write this as I watched Incredible Tales being shown on the idiot box. All 3 kids are in the room, curled under the blankets (Zafran denies it...but I know better....)
Somehow between the Western 'scream fest' and Asian ghost stories, I think our version beats our Western counterparts hands down. It is not about the blood and gore...but I supposed it is because the elements of 'the other world' are more 'real' and recognisable to us.
As a child, I was scared silly of the classic Malay "Pontianak' or even "Sumpah Orang Minyak." The children of yester-years would tow the line when parents referred to supernatural beings as bogeymen. I dread watching movies at my grandma's place...for the toilet seemed like miles away from the rest of the house, tucked at darkest corner...God knows what lurked in those places...with the worst possible creatures around.
I have said that I acknowledge that there are beings out there...whose world I do not quite understand. But I find it scarier when humans make use of these beings for their own personal gain (that is another story altogether)
My earliest recollection of an encounter happened at a cousin's place. She was an only child then, and her doting parents filled her room with lots and lots of dolls - many of which were displayed in the cupboards and shelves. I felt uneasy looking at so many pairs of staring, unmoving eyes.
One evening, after putting my cousin to bed, my aunt and I watched TV in the living room. But we heard laughter and giggles coming from from the little girl's room. Thinking that her daughter was up and about, my aunt decided to check on her.
I opened the door first. I saw my cousin on the floor playing with all her dolls. They were all around her...and she was talking to them; having a conversation. This was the first time I have seen her dolls being taken out from their display cabinets.
My aunt who was behind me gave a gasp. I was startled...and saw something I'll never forget. On the bed...was my cousin, ...fast asleep.
My aunt clamped a hand over my mouth. She need not worry. I do not think I was even capable of screaming aloud even then. She half-dragged me out of the room, closed the door quietly behind us, and sat down on the floor...muttering furiously verses from the Quran.
I clung on to her in fear...but I think I was too young to fully comprehend what was going on. We held on to each other for at least 20 minutes...I think...when we no longer could hear voices coming from the other room.
After half an hour, my aunt managed to compose herself. She took a deep breath,and gingerly opened the door.
The room was indeed very quiet...and there on the bed, was the figure of my little cousin, curled up in deep sleep. The dolls? There were none on the floor...they were all back in their original places, as if they were never touched at all.
She then took several large plastic bags, and removed every single one of those dolls and put them outside the house, for the garbage collector to take away the next day.
Who was the little girl I saw on the floor playing with them....I dared not ask then...I dare not guess ...even now.
I decided to write this as I watched Incredible Tales being shown on the idiot box. All 3 kids are in the room, curled under the blankets (Zafran denies it...but I know better....)
Somehow between the Western 'scream fest' and Asian ghost stories, I think our version beats our Western counterparts hands down. It is not about the blood and gore...but I supposed it is because the elements of 'the other world' are more 'real' and recognisable to us.
As a child, I was scared silly of the classic Malay "Pontianak' or even "Sumpah Orang Minyak." The children of yester-years would tow the line when parents referred to supernatural beings as bogeymen. I dread watching movies at my grandma's place...for the toilet seemed like miles away from the rest of the house, tucked at darkest corner...God knows what lurked in those places...with the worst possible creatures around.
I have said that I acknowledge that there are beings out there...whose world I do not quite understand. But I find it scarier when humans make use of these beings for their own personal gain (that is another story altogether)
My earliest recollection of an encounter happened at a cousin's place. She was an only child then, and her doting parents filled her room with lots and lots of dolls - many of which were displayed in the cupboards and shelves. I felt uneasy looking at so many pairs of staring, unmoving eyes.
One evening, after putting my cousin to bed, my aunt and I watched TV in the living room. But we heard laughter and giggles coming from from the little girl's room. Thinking that her daughter was up and about, my aunt decided to check on her.
I opened the door first. I saw my cousin on the floor playing with all her dolls. They were all around her...and she was talking to them; having a conversation. This was the first time I have seen her dolls being taken out from their display cabinets.
My aunt who was behind me gave a gasp. I was startled...and saw something I'll never forget. On the bed...was my cousin, ...fast asleep.
My aunt clamped a hand over my mouth. She need not worry. I do not think I was even capable of screaming aloud even then. She half-dragged me out of the room, closed the door quietly behind us, and sat down on the floor...muttering furiously verses from the Quran.
I clung on to her in fear...but I think I was too young to fully comprehend what was going on. We held on to each other for at least 20 minutes...I think...when we no longer could hear voices coming from the other room.
After half an hour, my aunt managed to compose herself. She took a deep breath,and gingerly opened the door.
The room was indeed very quiet...and there on the bed, was the figure of my little cousin, curled up in deep sleep. The dolls? There were none on the floor...they were all back in their original places, as if they were never touched at all.
She then took several large plastic bags, and removed every single one of those dolls and put them outside the house, for the garbage collector to take away the next day.
Who was the little girl I saw on the floor playing with them....I dared not ask then...I dare not guess ...even now.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Keep Up Or Keep Out
I cannot afford to be obselete. The faster things move, the more I need to catch up. But I suppose that there is a way to keep myself on an even keel.
So today marks the day I start on a new ITC journey. Bought myself the Adobe Creative Suite 3...with Dreamweaver, Flash, Fireworks & Contribute. It's more for the kids' use, but hey...I got no choice but to learn.
I suppose that there is such a thing as studying smart...do I will probably look into the Idiot guides to these new-fangled thingies...But I am all fired up (at least I try to think I am)...so the day I am able to make something move with Flash, I think I deserve a medal....hehehe
On a lighter note...
I am hooked...actually, will confess that I am an closet anime freak.
Have been watching the entire series of "Prince of Tennis"...and that includes the Movie version and Live action. Though Yuu Shirota is rather cute as Tezuka (the captain), nothing beats the super cool anime version of the droolsome tennis captain.
Hehehe...inspired enough to pick up my tennis racket and wear my tennis shoes again...(unfortunately...the days of shorts and tennis skirts are over)...so anyone keen for a game?
As Ryoma would say..." mada mada dane..."
PS: Is this blogskin better people?
I cannot afford to be obselete. The faster things move, the more I need to catch up. But I suppose that there is a way to keep myself on an even keel.
So today marks the day I start on a new ITC journey. Bought myself the Adobe Creative Suite 3...with Dreamweaver, Flash, Fireworks & Contribute. It's more for the kids' use, but hey...I got no choice but to learn.
I suppose that there is such a thing as studying smart...do I will probably look into the Idiot guides to these new-fangled thingies...But I am all fired up (at least I try to think I am)...so the day I am able to make something move with Flash, I think I deserve a medal....hehehe
On a lighter note...
I am hooked...actually, will confess that I am an closet anime freak.
Have been watching the entire series of "Prince of Tennis"...and that includes the Movie version and Live action. Though Yuu Shirota is rather cute as Tezuka (the captain), nothing beats the super cool anime version of the droolsome tennis captain.
Hehehe...inspired enough to pick up my tennis racket and wear my tennis shoes again...(unfortunately...the days of shorts and tennis skirts are over)...so anyone keen for a game?
As Ryoma would say..." mada mada dane..."
PS: Is this blogskin better people?
Friday, June 6, 2008
Knowing Me
Besides Maxwell, the only group of people who make sense to me are the proponents of Positive Psychology...anything that does not make me feel inadequate and ineffective.
Here is an animal fable extracted from one of these books that shatters the myth that you are excellent only if you are well-rounded or all-rounded.
Once upon a time, the animals all came together and founded a school with six subjects: swimming, crawling, running, jumping, climbing and flying. The duck was an excellent swimmer, but in her attempts at running, injured her webbed feet and eventually that affected her swimming.
The dog could run like the win,but hurt his foot when he crashed during flying class.
Everyone was in awe of the rabbit's jumping prowress, but he fell in climbing class and hurt his back.
The eagle was the best flyer, but nearly drowned in swimming class.
At the end of the school year, almost every animal that excelled in something was either hurt or injured. The class valedictorian eventually was the tree frog, who could do a little bit of everything, but nothing very well...
But was he really the best student among the animals?
Think about it...
Here is an animal fable extracted from one of these books that shatters the myth that you are excellent only if you are well-rounded or all-rounded.
Once upon a time, the animals all came together and founded a school with six subjects: swimming, crawling, running, jumping, climbing and flying. The duck was an excellent swimmer, but in her attempts at running, injured her webbed feet and eventually that affected her swimming.
The dog could run like the win,but hurt his foot when he crashed during flying class.
Everyone was in awe of the rabbit's jumping prowress, but he fell in climbing class and hurt his back.
The eagle was the best flyer, but nearly drowned in swimming class.
At the end of the school year, almost every animal that excelled in something was either hurt or injured. The class valedictorian eventually was the tree frog, who could do a little bit of everything, but nothing very well...
But was he really the best student among the animals?
Think about it...
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Other Encounters
Someone asked me if there were funny moments I experienced in school. She said that most of the time, when I write, I seemed to be recollecting events which are either sad, or with a lesson to be learnt. Well, the funny moments were too many to count, but I guess what constitutes as hilarious to one person, may be quite 'lame' to another. Laughter is a tricky thing to describe.
But I will try. I apologise to M in advance. I know he will not be too happy if his story is told. It's not 'funny' in that sense, but I can certainly say that the incident I am going to relate is quite interesting and unforgettable.
It was the day before we celebrated Teachers' Day. But it being the end of August, that batch of kids I had were stressed to the max. Mock exam 1 was over, and will be followed by the prelims. Pressure...pressure and more pressure. I had told them that there was no need to even think of TD celebrations. "Focus people...focus..."
As an FT, I was very, very particular about my 'babies'. Ask any of my kids, and they will remember the fusspot who would pick on their hair, their nails, their clothes, their shoes....and I think they toed the line more because nagging is a worse form of punishment than detention. They all have learned the silent signals; a raised eyebrow, a smirk...and oh...they all hate the 'poker-face' look as I stare at their faces, without saying anything. (Hey guys....why is that so uncomfortable?). That morning, as I walked down the row during assembly inspection, I noticed that M was not quite himself. He was rather green.
Anyway, something had made me so annoyed that morning. So they were banished to the old EL room to 'reflect'. Hehe...some form of effective time out. During recess, some of them stayed on for a self-imposed detention. Actually, I know that the room was a nice place to take refuge.
A and N came rushing into the old staff room. I sit nearest to the door, and I detest all that banging. But their faces were white.
"Cher...cher...come quick." N panted.
"Where's the fire?" came my quick retort.
"Cher...please...we are not kidding. M! M! Cher....he's dying!" A grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me out.
Hmm...that was something new. No child had ever grabbed me in such a manner before. Anyway, N too is usually calm and mild-mannered. Something definitely had ruffled his 'relax-lah Cher' composure.
I ran to the room, and saw the reason for their panic. There, flopping on the floor' like a fish, was M. He was clutching his chest, and gasping for air. He was, at that moment, looking like something who was....er...dying?
Don't ask me why I reacted the way I did, or if I knew what I was doing. The immediate concern was M, who needed...? what ? CPR? (er...er..NO WAY!). I reached him and saw that his body was jerky yet stiff. He was truly having difficulties breathing. Instinct I think took over.
He couldn't speak, and this was definitely not an act. I pushed the furniture aside so that he could not hurt himself accidently. I took hold of his hands. His fists were clenched tight.
"M...M...can you hear me? What is wrong?" I tried to get a response from him. No reply. I remember ordering his two other friends to remove his shoes and other forms of tight clothing that may have restricted his breathing.
The situation became comical because of those two. Here, I was, faced with the possibility of having a student die in my arms,...and there were the two 'clowns'. In their panic, they ripped the button of his shirt, and stripped him off his pants. (thank god for boxers). The shoes and socks must have flown somewhere in the room.
To my utter amazement, A burst out crying as he knelt beside his friend.
"M..M..please forgive me for all my wrong-doings". He sobbed uncontrollably. Within seconds, I watched this macho, strapping 17-year old reduced to a wailing baby...
N joined in the ruckus. "Mengucap (declare your faith in God)...please M..mengucap." and promptly recited the declaration out aloud. His tears also started to flow copiously too.
For goodness sake...Were they for real?...No wait...wait...Could they be right?
By then, M was really in trouble. His face had turned blue, and his eyes had rolled far back that the whites were beginning to show. I can't really describe how terrified I felt at that point. I shook him to get a response, and yelled, "Don't you dare die on me! So toot! toot! TOOT! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!"
Dramatic right?
I think that there was a sensible person around (I do not know who though), who had informed the office. Two other teachers came into the room to see what they could do. Seeing us, Mr L broke into a curse. "Wah...today the teachers all know how to swear one." came a voice from somewhere.
I really would have gladly allowed my 'rescuers' to take charge of the situation. But there came the new predicament. Somehow, in trying to get M to breathe, I had become entangled with him.
Lets see..how can I explain this?
You see, I had tried to unclench his fists earlier. But when I got distracted by N and A, his hands had re-curled, and firmly clamped mine in between. His nerves were taught, and were atrophied...and thus, I cannot be released from his grip. The more I tried, the tighter they became.
So try to imagine...for no words can fully capture the effect of the situation. A's wails were getting loud, and he flung himself on Mr L for comfort. N was in a trance...muttering prayers under his breath. And there I was gripped tightly by a young man, who despite his condition, had a strong hold on me.
Thank god the paramedics had come in. I don't know what ran through their minds. They placed an oxygen mask over M's ashen face. They tried to ask some routine questions, but I couldn't think straight.
"Boy...listen to me...relax...you got to breathe. Easy...easy...Don't fight." urged the medic.
No response. Even with the pure oxygen, M was still struggling.
"Oi...you want to die is it? If you don't breathe on your own, I'll slap your face." barked the other. And to my horror, he momentarily removed the mask and gave M two quick slaps. M gurgled and gasped more. At that point, the tension came to a peak, and I started to cry too.
They had a challenge...They could not release my hands. The vise-like grip was too strong. So they placed M on the stretcher, and carried him out of the room.
"Er...Teacher...you go also." the senior paramedic said.
Duh! What choice do I have? Till today, I am so glad that only one or two colleagues saw me walking awkwardly at an angle. It looked as if I was the hysterical mother, bending over, and clutching her wounded son. The walk to the ambulance seemed forever.
But M seemed to have improved. He was slowly beginning to breathe...though they were quick and noisy. The strict medic bent down to speak to him sharply again.
"Let your teacher go..." he ordered.
Still no response...I wonder if M was conscious or not, as his eyes were closed tightly.
"If you don't let her go...I'll slap you again."
The grip did feel a little looser, but his hands were still strong. So it was another difficult maneouvre up the ambulance.
"Cher...cher...wait...His pants and shoes.." N suddenly called out. His tear-streaked face was dirty. He held out the items and expected me to take them from him.
"Why you all torture your teacher that way eh?" asked the medic as he took the items and placed them at the side. He then slammed the door of the ambulance shut.
I guess it would have been exciting to ride in the ambulance, with full sirens blaring....had it not been for the seriousness of the situation. The strict officer took on a different persona, and he was very efficient had he monitored M's situation. Very gently, he rubbed M's arms...so that at one point, they became relaxed...and when they did, the medic slowly uncurled the fingers that had gripped mine.
I stared at my own fingers. They were white, and there were nail marks at certain point. I could feel the pain shooting up.
"Cikgu...you ok? Don't cry...He will be fine." the medic spoke slowly.
I looked at the man, and then over at M. The colour was slowly returning to his face...and he was able to breathe more regularly.
We arrived at the hospital I think, in less than 10 minutes. M was wheeled to the emergency, and I was told to do the necessary procedures. Within 5 minutes, M's parents appeared, with worried expressions on their faces. Meanwhile, I was shell-shocked...and I could not say anything, expect to shove the pants and shoes into their hands.
To cut the story short, M was fine. The doctor said that it was likely that he was not well earlier, and was running a high fever. Then it got worse when he suffered an anxiety attack. When he panicked, he held his breath. When you don't breathe, your muscles are deprived of oxygen. They harden and get literally stuck in a certain position. That would explain how I became imprisoned by him.
Anyway...I'm a lot smarter now. Why? Cos I have learnt how to react when a child hyperventilate. I will use a plastic or paper bag. The principle behind this is was someone hyperventilates, get him to breathe in carbon monoxide...yes...you got that right...monoxide. This is cause him to choke and automatically, the instinct will force him to take a deep breath of oxygen...
All I have to do...is put the plastic bag...over his head.
Really ? hehehehehe...
Please people...I am getting old...so no more of such excitments ok?
And if I am the one who forgets to breathe...let me be...
But I will try. I apologise to M in advance. I know he will not be too happy if his story is told. It's not 'funny' in that sense, but I can certainly say that the incident I am going to relate is quite interesting and unforgettable.
It was the day before we celebrated Teachers' Day. But it being the end of August, that batch of kids I had were stressed to the max. Mock exam 1 was over, and will be followed by the prelims. Pressure...pressure and more pressure. I had told them that there was no need to even think of TD celebrations. "Focus people...focus..."
As an FT, I was very, very particular about my 'babies'. Ask any of my kids, and they will remember the fusspot who would pick on their hair, their nails, their clothes, their shoes....and I think they toed the line more because nagging is a worse form of punishment than detention. They all have learned the silent signals; a raised eyebrow, a smirk...and oh...they all hate the 'poker-face' look as I stare at their faces, without saying anything. (Hey guys....why is that so uncomfortable?). That morning, as I walked down the row during assembly inspection, I noticed that M was not quite himself. He was rather green.
Anyway, something had made me so annoyed that morning. So they were banished to the old EL room to 'reflect'. Hehe...some form of effective time out. During recess, some of them stayed on for a self-imposed detention. Actually, I know that the room was a nice place to take refuge.
A and N came rushing into the old staff room. I sit nearest to the door, and I detest all that banging. But their faces were white.
"Cher...cher...come quick." N panted.
"Where's the fire?" came my quick retort.
"Cher...please...we are not kidding. M! M! Cher....he's dying!" A grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me out.
Hmm...that was something new. No child had ever grabbed me in such a manner before. Anyway, N too is usually calm and mild-mannered. Something definitely had ruffled his 'relax-lah Cher' composure.
I ran to the room, and saw the reason for their panic. There, flopping on the floor' like a fish, was M. He was clutching his chest, and gasping for air. He was, at that moment, looking like something who was....er...dying?
Don't ask me why I reacted the way I did, or if I knew what I was doing. The immediate concern was M, who needed...? what ? CPR? (er...er..NO WAY!). I reached him and saw that his body was jerky yet stiff. He was truly having difficulties breathing. Instinct I think took over.
He couldn't speak, and this was definitely not an act. I pushed the furniture aside so that he could not hurt himself accidently. I took hold of his hands. His fists were clenched tight.
"M...M...can you hear me? What is wrong?" I tried to get a response from him. No reply. I remember ordering his two other friends to remove his shoes and other forms of tight clothing that may have restricted his breathing.
The situation became comical because of those two. Here, I was, faced with the possibility of having a student die in my arms,...and there were the two 'clowns'. In their panic, they ripped the button of his shirt, and stripped him off his pants. (thank god for boxers). The shoes and socks must have flown somewhere in the room.
To my utter amazement, A burst out crying as he knelt beside his friend.
"M..M..please forgive me for all my wrong-doings". He sobbed uncontrollably. Within seconds, I watched this macho, strapping 17-year old reduced to a wailing baby...
N joined in the ruckus. "Mengucap (declare your faith in God)...please M..mengucap." and promptly recited the declaration out aloud. His tears also started to flow copiously too.
For goodness sake...Were they for real?...No wait...wait...Could they be right?
By then, M was really in trouble. His face had turned blue, and his eyes had rolled far back that the whites were beginning to show. I can't really describe how terrified I felt at that point. I shook him to get a response, and yelled, "Don't you dare die on me! So toot! toot! TOOT! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!"
Dramatic right?
I think that there was a sensible person around (I do not know who though), who had informed the office. Two other teachers came into the room to see what they could do. Seeing us, Mr L broke into a curse. "Wah...today the teachers all know how to swear one." came a voice from somewhere.
I really would have gladly allowed my 'rescuers' to take charge of the situation. But there came the new predicament. Somehow, in trying to get M to breathe, I had become entangled with him.
Lets see..how can I explain this?
You see, I had tried to unclench his fists earlier. But when I got distracted by N and A, his hands had re-curled, and firmly clamped mine in between. His nerves were taught, and were atrophied...and thus, I cannot be released from his grip. The more I tried, the tighter they became.
So try to imagine...for no words can fully capture the effect of the situation. A's wails were getting loud, and he flung himself on Mr L for comfort. N was in a trance...muttering prayers under his breath. And there I was gripped tightly by a young man, who despite his condition, had a strong hold on me.
Thank god the paramedics had come in. I don't know what ran through their minds. They placed an oxygen mask over M's ashen face. They tried to ask some routine questions, but I couldn't think straight.
"Boy...listen to me...relax...you got to breathe. Easy...easy...Don't fight." urged the medic.
No response. Even with the pure oxygen, M was still struggling.
"Oi...you want to die is it? If you don't breathe on your own, I'll slap your face." barked the other. And to my horror, he momentarily removed the mask and gave M two quick slaps. M gurgled and gasped more. At that point, the tension came to a peak, and I started to cry too.
They had a challenge...They could not release my hands. The vise-like grip was too strong. So they placed M on the stretcher, and carried him out of the room.
"Er...Teacher...you go also." the senior paramedic said.
Duh! What choice do I have? Till today, I am so glad that only one or two colleagues saw me walking awkwardly at an angle. It looked as if I was the hysterical mother, bending over, and clutching her wounded son. The walk to the ambulance seemed forever.
But M seemed to have improved. He was slowly beginning to breathe...though they were quick and noisy. The strict medic bent down to speak to him sharply again.
"Let your teacher go..." he ordered.
Still no response...I wonder if M was conscious or not, as his eyes were closed tightly.
"If you don't let her go...I'll slap you again."
The grip did feel a little looser, but his hands were still strong. So it was another difficult maneouvre up the ambulance.
"Cher...cher...wait...His pants and shoes.." N suddenly called out. His tear-streaked face was dirty. He held out the items and expected me to take them from him.
"Why you all torture your teacher that way eh?" asked the medic as he took the items and placed them at the side. He then slammed the door of the ambulance shut.
I guess it would have been exciting to ride in the ambulance, with full sirens blaring....had it not been for the seriousness of the situation. The strict officer took on a different persona, and he was very efficient had he monitored M's situation. Very gently, he rubbed M's arms...so that at one point, they became relaxed...and when they did, the medic slowly uncurled the fingers that had gripped mine.
I stared at my own fingers. They were white, and there were nail marks at certain point. I could feel the pain shooting up.
"Cikgu...you ok? Don't cry...He will be fine." the medic spoke slowly.
I looked at the man, and then over at M. The colour was slowly returning to his face...and he was able to breathe more regularly.
We arrived at the hospital I think, in less than 10 minutes. M was wheeled to the emergency, and I was told to do the necessary procedures. Within 5 minutes, M's parents appeared, with worried expressions on their faces. Meanwhile, I was shell-shocked...and I could not say anything, expect to shove the pants and shoes into their hands.
To cut the story short, M was fine. The doctor said that it was likely that he was not well earlier, and was running a high fever. Then it got worse when he suffered an anxiety attack. When he panicked, he held his breath. When you don't breathe, your muscles are deprived of oxygen. They harden and get literally stuck in a certain position. That would explain how I became imprisoned by him.
Anyway...I'm a lot smarter now. Why? Cos I have learnt how to react when a child hyperventilate. I will use a plastic or paper bag. The principle behind this is was someone hyperventilates, get him to breathe in carbon monoxide...yes...you got that right...monoxide. This is cause him to choke and automatically, the instinct will force him to take a deep breath of oxygen...
All I have to do...is put the plastic bag...over his head.
Really ? hehehehehe...
Please people...I am getting old...so no more of such excitments ok?
And if I am the one who forgets to breathe...let me be...
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
You Are Loved
Today, I think I met someone who reminded me what it meant to be a good mother, and helped me rethink and take stock of my own actions.
Today, I made a home visit. Nope, it is not because this child is naughty or acting up...on the contrary...this is a child who is well-mannered and hard-working. We are told to make our visits random, but I guess, parents still get rather alarmed when we descend upon the house.
Today, I saw what makes a house a home.
The place must really be one of the neatest places around, despite that there were 5 kids. Though I did not move around, from where I was, I saw where the family had their meals...a kitchen with a sink, and a stove...no cabinets...down to the barest minimum..There were no ostentatious objects, the walls were bare. But still, you could feel the warmth of a family who do not need much to enjoy the simple pleasures in life.
Today, I heard and saw the hopes of a mother who wants her child to rise above her.
She wished she could give him more in life...with what money can buy...but I think the child has already got something even more valuable than that. He's got her encouragement, her support, her blessing, her love. Are these things enough? I think I can say so, for in return, she has a son who is determined to make her proud.
Today, I am learning to count my blessings again.
Today, I am learning to reach out, and give back.
Thank you...thank you...thank you.
Today, I made a home visit. Nope, it is not because this child is naughty or acting up...on the contrary...this is a child who is well-mannered and hard-working. We are told to make our visits random, but I guess, parents still get rather alarmed when we descend upon the house.
Today, I saw what makes a house a home.
The place must really be one of the neatest places around, despite that there were 5 kids. Though I did not move around, from where I was, I saw where the family had their meals...a kitchen with a sink, and a stove...no cabinets...down to the barest minimum..There were no ostentatious objects, the walls were bare. But still, you could feel the warmth of a family who do not need much to enjoy the simple pleasures in life.
Today, I heard and saw the hopes of a mother who wants her child to rise above her.
She wished she could give him more in life...with what money can buy...but I think the child has already got something even more valuable than that. He's got her encouragement, her support, her blessing, her love. Are these things enough? I think I can say so, for in return, she has a son who is determined to make her proud.
Today, I am learning to count my blessings again.
Today, I am learning to reach out, and give back.
Thank you...thank you...thank you.
Monday, June 2, 2008
I am back to reading Maxwell again...this time his latest "Go for Gold". I really like his stuff. If I feel myself going on the downward spiral, I'll curl up in bed with a good read.
Here are some of my takes on the simple things that make life more bearable. Maxwell talks about something he calls "Disciplined Emotions". People have just two choices when it comes to their emotions: Master them or be mastered by them.
Which category do you belong to?
I know on the surface, I tend to look unfazed, and wise...(oh well, at least I try to)on most occasions. I realise that should I wear my heart on my sleeve, I am more vulnerable than I already am. I cannot afford that.
Maybe this is the cynic in me talking. I do not think I put on a smokescreen, but my facade has been built on years on really putting my real emotions under control. I have managed to tame the rebel...the wildchild and carefree streak. I have put that temper on a short leash.
But does that mean I have mastered my emotions?
I don't think so. Over and over again, the psychometric tests I take reveal that that part of me is something that I can only hide, but never remove completely. I know I appear to be compliant, meek, and mild.
So will the real me stand up?
I don't really know...for the two paradoxical sides of me are one and the same...and that is what some of you are learning about me....
It has been a long time since I let people into seeing me for who I really am...for in the past, I did not want the illusion to be spoiled.
But this is me...the one who writes...with the Voice...tells me who I really am.
And I am enjoying it.
Do slowly the private self is coming out again...and you know what? It's not so bad.
So join me on my journey to find myself again...
Here are some of my takes on the simple things that make life more bearable. Maxwell talks about something he calls "Disciplined Emotions". People have just two choices when it comes to their emotions: Master them or be mastered by them.
Which category do you belong to?
I know on the surface, I tend to look unfazed, and wise...(oh well, at least I try to)on most occasions. I realise that should I wear my heart on my sleeve, I am more vulnerable than I already am. I cannot afford that.
Maybe this is the cynic in me talking. I do not think I put on a smokescreen, but my facade has been built on years on really putting my real emotions under control. I have managed to tame the rebel...the wildchild and carefree streak. I have put that temper on a short leash.
But does that mean I have mastered my emotions?
I don't think so. Over and over again, the psychometric tests I take reveal that that part of me is something that I can only hide, but never remove completely. I know I appear to be compliant, meek, and mild.
So will the real me stand up?
I don't really know...for the two paradoxical sides of me are one and the same...and that is what some of you are learning about me....
It has been a long time since I let people into seeing me for who I really am...for in the past, I did not want the illusion to be spoiled.
But this is me...the one who writes...with the Voice...tells me who I really am.
And I am enjoying it.
Do slowly the private self is coming out again...and you know what? It's not so bad.
So join me on my journey to find myself again...
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