Odds and Ends

Often in life, we tend to take many of our body parts for granted. Perhaps wif e luxury of a car, my feet is 1 of em. 5 days on, I'm still hobbling wif no sign of recovery. All becos I din have proper shoes in e 1st 24 hours. The cost of my folley stands at €40 - a new pair of shoes for 1/3 & e rest on bandaids, comfort gel, etc. I am meant to do self-walk tours of Dublin. Somehow, I dun see tat working out anymore. Feet - just gotta love em!

50 years of Peter Pan

Days later, e telly still talks of e sudden death of Michael Jackson. HMV & all e stores pipe his songs as you shop. The weekend papers are doing major pullouts on e man today. And I wonder, is it cos he's gone tat we're keeping him on e front of our minds? We did not so much as whispered his name much in years! Such a pity & shame. Perhaps if everyone cared more, or was less fascinated wif him, he might not be gone so soon.

Back to Roots

As I got off e train at Cobh yesterday, I was swamped by a group of geriatrics from America. 1 dude was even wheeling his O2 behind him! You'll find them all over e place; coming as desendents of e 1 mil plus Irish who left 200 years ago wen e spud crop failed. It's amazing cos I can't see us doing e same, tracing e path back to our roots. Or perhaps, it's just me ...

Thirty-eighters

Someone, somewhere out there celebrates his 38th birthday today. And here I am, many miles away. Perhaps this is how he wants it to be ~ another statement of how he's a loner, and always would be. And as much as he says he wants the day to pass unnoticed, it's such a fib, thru and thru.

And so, it's said here, with the token pint in hand as day breaks over Dublin, a toast to a fine "boy", who despite his eccentricities, is as good as boys are made. His dreams for the year ahead are small, but with his big heart, it'll create big ripples for sure.

Happy 38th Birthday Boy! Pressie will come when my plane touches down on the 6th. You'll just have to make do for now with Goofy and this note :o)

We've gotta make sure that some year between now and 2024, I've gotta at least once, see you blow those candles out ~ and this is non-negotiable!

Pink Floyd

I'm sitting outside of Fixx's Coffee Shop in Cobh, listening to some lads playing covers. No one seems to know who they are but they are GOOD! It's like the most apt thing to do this sunny afternoon ... and as the song goes ... How I wish you were here!

Food Galore

My food plan for dis trip：have just enuf so tat e walking would shed pounds. Tat plan is NOT going well. Breakfast just done：Swiss Muesli & a smoked salmon dill omelette. Dinner：prawns wif mango creme fraiche, duck confit wif pomme noisettes & black pudding foie gras. Lunch：fresh seafood chowder. And e butter. Oh e butter! I plan to steal a cow home just for e butter! Perhaps I should walk to Dublin instead of e train. It's been food heaven!

Spanish Guitars Already

I sat in on a stranger's wedding at Honan Chapel in e afternoon, wif hundreds of candles providing e only light. I attended a string quartet unplugged session at e uni. I also had my original Irish Stew at e local pub. I walked the city of Cork to its harbour and back. And the melancholy of e singer stayed wif me as e spanish guitar moments kept on piling up, 24 hours in ... He would so have loved yesterday in this city ...

Ostrich

I asked my colleagues yesterday how our Malaysian kids are doing at e uni. They are very well-behaved and most pleasant. They've been great ambassadors, showing our culture and food at every opportunity. HOWEVER it is also noted how they tend to internalise all their challenges, often by passing the opportunities for help. It's most sad that they are choosing to ignore e support structure offered, often till it's too late. Most sad indeed ...

Smells like ...

I kept my face to the window the whole time during 20 hours of flying yesterday. My face broke out in smiles as I saw my fave lil brown-walled houses below. There's something about this part of the world that makes me feel like I've come home. The smell of the air ... the friendliness of the person on the street ... Staying at a student dorm just makes it even more surreal. I've 2 weeks to enjoy this. Enjoy it I will, runny nose and all :-)

Abusing Choice

Everybody loves to have a choice. Yet many a times, people forget that once you make a decision, you would reach the end of the line for your tree. I could use the excuse that I've made a rookie's mistake. But in truth, I've made the mistake of assuming that a 20-something would have better sense and sensibility. Question now is: am I gonna let a couple kids leave a bitter taste in my throat for something I love doing?

Medieval Walls and Lone Walks

Okay so I get on the plane to Ireland in about 50-over hours. And yes, I am psyched! I have my new passport made, will go change money tomorrow, my accommodations booked and my internal transfers paid for. Bag is half packed (half cos the other half is still in the laundry basket) and my itinerary is all coloured up and ready to go. The pinky walkman is even loaded up with iWalk Tours with accompanying maps.

As I ran thru my lil coloured piece of paper with pardner in kryme, and watching him grow all excited about the sights I would see, the history tied to it, I couldn't help but recall my words in Dark-haired Men and Spanish Guitars...

"And that was where the danger sign came in handy. For what the hell would I do in Barcelona all on my own? To be immersed in such beauty and to turn to my left or right , only to find an empty space there, some presence demanding to be filled."

I'm not even half out the door and the pang is already there. And it's a ridiculous sentiment to have, cos in the 13 days that I'm away, it's the same amount of time that he's not based in town anyways. So technically, it doesn't make a beef's dent.

*Thumps head on desk*

Must. Stay. Focused. And. Walk. On.

Must. Resist. Urge. To. Chip. Off. A. Piece. Off. The. General. Post. Office. Building. To. Bring. Back. For. Hoarder.

State of Grace

I sat in church this morning in front of a child, having some kind of developmental challenge.

All thru service, she giggled and proceeded to laugh aloud to herself, yelling "Yeay!" as well over and over again. It was most distracting and even though I kinda realised after a while that she was mentally challenged, I still couldn't help but cast some accussing glances at her mother's way.

It has bothered me all thru the day, if what I did was right, and if there were some form of middle ground in places of worship, etc where these "disturbances" could be minimised. My initial thought of a special room did not grow beyond that - I have no right to ostracise God's child. And so I was back at square one.

Until someone highlighted to me, that if I were truly in a state of grace, deep in my communique with God, the distracting noise would have faded away on its own.

*Hmmmm* makes a whole lot of sense, which also makes me feel that wee bit 'tall'... shameful person that I am.

Clean Stuff

I've just spent the better part of the morning, getting my affairs in order. And there'll be a whole lot of running around tomorrow to various government agencies to send in forms and such.

It's only 12 days, I know. But with the way of the world these days, one can never be too certain. As it is, Luke's already starting to have fears of lightening striking the plane and bringing it down (note to all parent readers: Air Crash Investigation - not suitable for kids under 18!) and starts tearing up each time he thinks of the trip.

Quite possibly it's cos for the last 4 years or so, I have been grounded. And people adapt quickly - young and old. Plus, back then, they were probably too young to know left from right and so it wasn't a big thingy to them.

Which is why dad and brother has a list of all my important information (right down to the landlord's contact details) and bff will have a sealed enveloped passed to her next week with strict instructions to only open if something happens and my 12 days ends much sooner.

I'm being paranoid, I know. I mean, the number of people who travel and move across geographical locations every minute is countless. But hey - better to be on the wrong side of wrong, then the right side of wrong I say.

It's not just the fact that I have people dependent on me that I have to go thru these paces. I have given much thought to why it is I read obituary pages (when I don't know of many geriatrics whose wake I would make a point to attend), and how I would feel if people I cared about and counted for suddenly disappeared without a word. And I know how I would not like the feeling(s) of any of the above. Which is why such measures are necessary.

I have come to think that it is only those who live as if there is a tomorrow who would leave the house when it is in a state of mess, and be okay walking around in not clean underwear. Me? Being alive today is already a blessing.

Counting on tomorrow would be pushing it a tad hard!

In Print

Many moons ago, on the night (yes, night ~ don't ask) that my high school results were released to me over the phone (again ~ don't ask), some of the statements made by the family as we gathered around the white board against the phone in my grandfather's house were:

1. Hey - those science subjects scores would net us a bundle at the Genting casino!
2. Awww.. a couple of points shy of Grade 1
3. Don't worry - I can get you a job as a cashier at the bank

Sure I'm not the booksmart type of person. And if the high school year book went by the American penchant of listing a section of "Most likely to..." I would have bagged the one that said "lead a quiet, unassuming and unexciting mediocre life." IN ALL HONESTY - coming to where I have come today, professionally, no one would have dared dream of it back then (and perhaps even along the way not in the distant past!)

These are really bags of potatoes that I should cast and abandon but I choose to remember them today, of all days. For I have, against the odds stacked against me, reached another ambition that I have always held dear. Cos you see, back then, choices of higher education were limited to you if you were not a distinction scholar. And my choices of mass communications at a polytechnic in Singapore were written off automatically with my results.

I have in my last employment reached one of the ambitions - to be in the hospitality industry, and again, if not for an employer who wanted someone without any industry background, I wouldn't have gotten that opportunity. And heck - I dare say I did well. Pretty darn well, in fact.

And today, I have reached another with Man Gone Down.

It may be a small thing, in an insignificant section of the weekend papers. But as bff Mandy says: I would beam with pride today. And indeed I am, considering that once, my only option of earning a living as to be a bank teller, a position that would have only begotten with strings pulled.

No one pulled any strings to see my name in print today. And it's really a long way from that dark night back in '93.

It sure is something when you see your signature Loaded lines become acceptable and appear in print!

24/7 Habits

One of the nasty habits that I have picked up over the years is a massive attachments to my email.

It's Saturday evening and I've just responded to one of my customer's email.. and I'm wondering - am I setting a precedent here with this 24/7 thingy here?

Old habits die hard I guess.

The Chair

This is a picture of a chair. A chair in my wee lil pigeon hole. It's not all that new, and the cushion has a nasty stain on the flipside that just won't come off. It's the chair that's by the window so it's not the best chair to sit and watch telly in.

But to me, this is the best chair in the house. My favourite chair, you can even say. Cos it's not the chair per se but the indentions on the seat.

It serves to remind me for a good week long, that you're not a figment of my imagination. That the long conversations did not take place solely in my head.

It serves to remind me ... that you are real and you were here.

Big Shoes & Red Noses

Commit yourself to life, says the clown. 

If you are alive, you must wave your arms, 

jump, make a noise, laugh and talk to people, 

because life is exactly the opposite of death.

Dying is staying always in the same position. 

If you are very quiet, you are not living.

I think I shall like to be a clown this week.

Turnip Thoughts

I am exhausted. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. And today was not a good day to be in such a state.

A former colleague who specialised in Neuro-linguistic Programming had this idea that a person's state does not normally last beyond minutes. I have defied the law of NLP perhaps then today. And it has drained me just as a machine drains a stem of sugar cane.

Mandy said I really shouldn't be in this state. We had always known that said bastard of the year (pardon the French but as you can see, there is still residue rage going on) was my rubbish. And she is right.

Last night, before I closed my eyes, I whispered something to the wind and in it there was the thought that whatever it was I had stated, is not meant to change anything for it has always been the way it was from a certain point in time.

And if I applied the same to this scenario, whatever new 'knowledge' that I have now in my possession coming 24 hours, really shouldn't change anything as well. Lydia, Luke and I, though not rich, have been doing alright. 

They may not have had that trip to Disneyland they have been hankering for the last 2 years, but they have food on their plate, clothes on their back, roof over their heads and a bed to lie in on at night. And I - I have not appeared as tomorrow's headlines for abuse, fraud or as a puddle on the ground floor of some high-rise.

Perhaps I am just sad. Sad that my children were not wanted. And indignant that they have been denied whatever is owed to them.

But I'm going to give myself to the end of this blog to feel that way on their behalf, for when I saw them this evening - they were not sad nor indignant. Their world turned as it usually does today, like any other day. So why should I carry this weight around me any more for my life?

I have done enough. Enough with that entire episode. I had once drawn to the tip of my tongue a retort that if I thought, really thought and believed that by dying myself, right now, could go back and undo all the wrong decisions I had made back then, I would do it. But no, I don't really think that way, nor believe it to be true.

And so, I shall take the advice of Paulo Coelho:

Welcome and live sadness intensively for a determined amount of period.

Be completely submersed in this feeling.

Once you’ve let sadness pay you a visit, 

then kindly ask it to leave. 

Sadness is then satisfied and leaves.

Sadness, I have welcomed and embraced you today. I allowed you to follow me around like a shadow everywhere. It was a fruitful day and I hope you had a blast of a time. But the sun has set and the moon has risen. In hours, a new day will begin, and I would like it to be my own. With that, I am asking you politely to leave me now.

Thank you.

Why Blog

Ben asked me the other day why it is that I blog. And ten days on, I have my answer.

Because at 15 minutes to midnight, there isn't a single soul I can count on to be able to pick up the phone and dial a number; when I have good news to share, when I have bad news to break, when I have worries to unburden or even when I have anger to vent.

And so that is why I blog. I would write it down in a book they used to call a diary if I could read my own handwriting, but seeing how even doctors comment that my writing is beyond all hope - we'll just leave it at typing.

Sure, casting all these out into cyberspace and leaving it at the liberty of a gazillion people reading, I am opening myself to risks of exposure. But hey you know what - I don't give a rat's ass. Cos if I can't put a name, a face and a relationship to you - it doesn't matter if you know my story.

As for those who I CAN put a name and a face to... if we have a relationship, if you are someone I can and do call my person... the hours between me putting my thoughts down here and you reading them would give me the respite I need until you come and hold my hand.

Blogging - don't knock it until you try it.

Sid's Secret

I bumped into an old friend at dinner tonight. He’s actually a friend of Lydia and Luke’s biological father, but other time became my friend as well. I haven’t seen him for a while now, but for some reason, my gut did tell me I would be seeing him sometime soon.

I don’t know what possessed me to ask, after the usual round of courtesies – So how’s Ray? And that was my opening of Pandora’s Box for the year.

And so, Lydia and Luke has two half-siblings somewhere out there in the same geographical space. It is news that I have been preparing myself to hear from the grapevine eventually sometime thru this thing I call my life. But perhaps, I wasn’t prepared enough. And right now, 3 vodka cranberries on and pushing on 40 hours without sleep; I am not sure how to react to it.

I have learnt from my 10 hour dvd marathon that one should put a label to their feelings in order to know how to address it. And so this is my attempt:

I have some amount of rage going on somewhere inside – Did he think he could replace the two he cast aside with new ones, as one does with cars, homes, clothes, shoes? And knowing him, they would probably have closet full of branded clothing, shoes and toys as well while mine have what’s available and affordable. If he had any cow sense left in that pea size brain of his (see I told you I was raging!), they would probably be enrolled in the best pre-school in his neighbourhood, carrying the fanciest backpack and not having to wonder if asking for a McD’s lunch on the weekend would be too much.

But having said and expanded all that, I also have some amount of pride hanging abouts somewhere in here as well. Cos Lydia and Luke are beautiful, with Lydia certainly taking after me and my Straits Chinese features, which is probably why most people thinks she is of mixed-parentage. And through that, they would always be uniquely different in a crowd.

Plus tonight, in talking with my mates from around the world, exchanging parenting stories, my kids are equal to theirs – theirs who goes to the best international school in town and having the advantage of being global citizens.

I may not have much, thereby translating to Lydia and Luke not having much either. But in taking away all the things that money can buy, they are gaining a whole lot more. For they have values and appreciation of what money cannot buy. And they have me – all of ME, which more than makes up for a dad who, in the name of work, go out drinking till half past 3 in the mornings, and living beyond his means just to keep up with the Jones.

At the end of the day, in my opinion, there are somethings and some persons that you can replace. Cars, houses, jobs, watches. Best friends, neighbours, even parents.

But when it comes to kids – YOUR KIDS – a person whom you created – if you think they can be replaced – Buddy, I hate to say this. But you’re even more screwed up than I (and the rest of my world) gave you credit for.

But it’s okay. We shan’t rat on you. These kind of things cannot remain skeletons in the closet forever. Until then, we’ll let it remain Sid’s secret.

And we know Sid’s gonna come back and bite ya in the arse when you least expect it.

With that, we’ll close by adding vengeance to the list as well.

 

Blinded

Are we gonna get by?
I can hardly see the road,
Yeah but I'm gonna try