Barbsie Loaded

Pillars

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 14:08:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, at a function, when one of my Irish friends introduced me to this young lady and asked if I could help mentor her in her business, my first thoughts were "Wow - and there I was thinking her husband was so damn hot as the guitarist of the band!"

We met for the first time today, for a proper sit down discussion after being on email for about a week, and I must say, I walked away from it, feeling as if I have been the one handed the gift, and not the other way around.

Very rarely do we find young people, in this day and age, who are willing to go the distance, in fulfilling what they want to do deep down inside. Having read their (her husband and her's) story, and this dream they have created, I am really psyched to be allowed a part of this.

And I do this cos it's time I start taking some of my own medicine.. as I told Ben early Monday morning - time to start believing you're capable of so much more than what you're paid to do. "Believe I can fly... I can touch the sky.. Be as big as Sly...But more importantly, always believe in truth and not lies... for they are the pillar of life."

And the way they are living their lives - it's the truth. So if the foundations they have built on is a bit weak, no harm in my helping prop it up whatever way I can. It's not everyday that I get the honour of meeting people who dare to dream and are honest and humble to admit that they are in the midst of pursuing their dream.

All About Towels

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 13:14:00 +0000

I have been making an effort to wake up on time, as I used to do. Doesn't matter that I don't really need to. But to know that I can set my mind to something and do it, gives me some relief and self-assurance that I've not lost all of my lessons learnt.

I stumbled into my bathroom this morning after barely enough sleep and the first sight to greet me is this two bath towels hanging on both rungs of the towel rack. There is nothing ever odd about having two bath towels hanging in such a manner for most people. But I live by myself and in the 11 months I've lived here, never before have I come across such a sight.

Here I sit at my desk, refusing to take the other towel down to be put into the laundry basket, simply cos it reminds me that though I am by myself, I am not quite alone. It reminds me that when he's not here, there is something of his that is here. And that yes, when there is a chance, he comes home.

So there it is. All about towels. What's the state of yours?

Making Excuses

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 08:36:00 +0000

I recall having this discussion once with LB - about laziness and how it is a trait that can be cultivated. And I've been re-evaluating my own performance, my throughput levels at work, at my projects and how productive I have been. Sad to say, I have slacked so much I want to dig a hole and bury myself in it.

At the end of the day, I can make all sorts of excuses - culture, environment, time-zone difference - but they will remain what they are: excuses. And when I've realised that my own achievements have been below par, really - no amount of excuses can make me rest easy at night until that is sorted.

And so, as much as I wish I could take my traditional long vacation at this year-end, I know for a fact, I do not deserve one.

I no longer have the luxury of having a big team of folks where our roles can be segregated such that I am the thinker, the planner, the strategist and to pass them on for implementation when my part is done.

I am now all-rolled-into-one. And if I want my business to succeed so that I can say I made something for myself (and for certain crazy people to be less tied to a job) then I'll have to make sure that my plans, my programmes come to fruition.

December is almost near.. no more time for resting on laurels and hibernation.

Besides as Ben says - Tortoise pace is really not me.

The Hope

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 12:01:00 +0000

BFF-II is thinking he needs an iPhone cos he gets lonely without his MSN. Our short weekend catch up across the borders on his lousy lappie, we mutually agreed that people don't talk anymore. Which is one of the things I marvel at.

Ben once asked why do I need so many instant chat applications running - yes, I have 4 (Yahoo, Windows Live, Skype, GoogleTalk) and that number would increase to 5 if you were to include the built-in one on Facebook. And my reply was that different friends use different applications and so it's best if I had an account in each one and ran them all.

Sadly, that is indeed the harsh realities of our lives today. Instant chats and short-message texts. Folks asks for your number these days, and you can bet you'll never quite hear their voice on the other end but will receive a deluge of beeps from them.

Once upon a time, I was well and truly happy to not speak to another human being for days on end. I recall how Sen asked if he should step out the door, sit in the car and for us to continue our conversation via SMS cos the cat really got my tongue. But now, I'd much rather hear the voice and laugh on the other end of the line or table, sense the warmth of a smile and all that jazz that comes with actually knowing the you're not talking to yourself.

Everyone is different and thus engages different ways of staying connected. My best buddy can go for weeks and months on end not seeing me in the flash cos we start almost each day with a short "Good morning" beeped in. BFF on the other hand, would be there on GoogleTalk from the start of the work day till the end, but we'll still have a physical face-to-face lunch thrown in at least 2 out of 3 days in the week. And Ben just beeps but makes it a point to not go more than a couple of weeks at most, work permitting.

And that, to me is my hope.

An iPhone may be a solution, but it is NOT the only solution. So long as more people realise that - then perhaps we would not all lead such disjointed lives at the end of the day.

Evolution

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 11:42:00 +0000

Plato, who said in 300-something BC that you learn more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. I supposed he would be the authority on this subject matter as he was surrounded all the time by philosophers, scholars, astronomers - persons who thought living and knowing was all done in conversations. Perhaps, it was through the daily intellectual exchanges that Plato felt that he had witness sufficient twisting and turning of thoughts to appreciate the simple joys of merely engaging without wanting to strike a point at the end of the hour.

Nat, after a particularly trying day at the office yesterday quoted Tennessee Williams as saying that the the only thing worse than a liar, is a liar who is also a hypocrite. And this would have been at the start of the 20th century. When the world was just coming to terms with materialism and consumerism. Where people realised that certain needs exploited, would bring about gains undreamed of.

My day was more or less ruined at the start of the morning because of a callous thought spoken. While I am willing to give the benefit of doubt, strange as it may sound, that there was no malice intended, I am still nonetheless miffed at how people and society has evolved to the way we are today.

As Akon said in his song, "Sorry, Blame it on me" - How was I meant to know she was underage? Which is a fine excuse Stan when all is said and done. But hey buddy boy - I would bet my bottom dollar that the question did cross your mind but you willfully cast it away, sweeping it under the carpet, playing the odds that you might not get caught.

As night draws nigh, I cannot help but ponder if indeed the world were to end tomorrow, could we truly blame it on higher authority for giving up on us as a species, as a society, as a race. For while there may have been many improvements and innovations in the century past, there have also been a much higher rate of erosion. And I'm not capping it merely at what we are doing to the environment. But extending it to our values and norms.

I may not be an angel nor a saint. But hey I'm at least willing to admit that much.

In Another Life

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:26:00 +0000

In another life, I organised conferences - international ones - where over 2000 people came from around the world. With their partners having a separate agenda. And it wasn't just one that I have done. To fit them all in my resume would be just too much. But that's precisely it - it was in another life.

Which was why I sat through a long meeting at the end of today, biting my tongue, resisting the urge to say "Give me one day with this paper and you'll have the programme, titles and to-do-list all drawn up to execute".

It's gonna be a long 6 weeks so I need to be mentally prepared for this. Lots of standing in front of my mirror saying "Shut my trap no matter what!"

It's gonna be a long 6 weeks so I need to be physically prepared for this. Tongue has got to be ready to be chomp down a fair bit.

I wish I didn't have so many other lives.

Lessons from Beyond

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 17:08:00 +0000

I’venever been one good at receiving compliments of any kind graciously. Somehow,when pointed out, the things I do don’t seem extraordinary in my eyes.

Earlier this week,a 3^rd party commented through my friend how amazing a parent I amwhen Mandy recounted something Lydia remarked last week. Something aboutfeeling bad cos she’s the only one going to a school that was a fee paying one.And that she had said it was alright if she didn’t go to her school just so I wouldn't have to put aside huge amounts of money for her schooling.

Ofcourse I am almost amazed by how Lydia and Luke are. But never once have Icredited it to me. And what was said over the end of the week – bout Little Nyonya being Lydia’s fave show and her having a maturityand how I have done well in that respect – made me seriously sit down andthink if perhaps there is some truth to what everyone says.

Atthe core of upbringing, the most important thing one can ever impart, I feel,is a sense of respect. Instill that in anyone and everything else will fallinto place. But how does one teach respect? For if we force it upon themwithout any understanding, then it is only but a mere watershed ~ it will notlast when they form their own way of life. Yet, I believe that if we lead byexample, coupled with explanation and rationalization, then yes it will stick,and not just stick for the now, but for life.

Andso I do it my way – a vast difference from the culture and environment that Imyself was brought up in. Many have doubted if my way would work. My bestfriends shell me for telling my kids that we cannot buy a particular toy or eatat a certain place cos we have to be careful with our finances. My parents wantto kick my butt when I send the kids to a corner or make them wait out theirdinner when they misbehave. My aunt wants to take a cane to my behind when shelearnt that I have Luke earning his way around the house for a toy (needless tosay, she went and bought it for him when I wasn’t around!)

Butpeople can say whatever they want cos I have validation that my way works. Notjust in the comments I get about the two but because I know one such person whohas benefitted from quite possibly a somewhat similar upbringing. A person whois kind-hearted, intelligent yet humble, focused and successful, and of course,adores his mum!

Theysay the best way to learn is to go to the source. Unfortunately, in thisinstance it would be rather impossible and frankly, quite eerie to think that Icould actually go to the source :o)

Ibelieve that children are our one and only legacy. Not some business we leavebehind, the bungalow on by the beach, or the many kind acts that we did in ourlifetime. For those are transient – existing only when we exist. But if theycontinue, under the banner of one’s off-springs, then that would be theultimate legacy.

Sothere you go – yes, Lydia and Luke are great kids. The best as they can come.But how much they have grown emotionally and mentally in the last year andmonths is really not all credit to me. If you have ever wondered why I offerMasses for a particular lady whom I have never met – it would be precisely forthe parenting lessons she imparts from the great beyond – through her son.

While it may have sounded strange to any of you who heard - He talks to his dead mother - you must admit. If you had a child and after you've gone, you would want your child to still felt that bond you shared. You'd be damn proud if that happened, and not wonder if he was losing his marbles.

So there you go. Why I do not think it strange. For this lady, whatever she looks like, how she was, etc etc etc - I know this for a fact - she left one heck of a legacy, despite all the odds she had to overcome.

If I canachieve one-half of what she did, I would be damn proud of myself!

Perhaps onlythen would I graciously accept all glowing remarks about how beautiful humanbeings my kids are.

Conversations at Midnight

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 12:41:00 +0000

"Whenis all this busy-ness and madness going to end?," she asked.

"When I quit my job and come out on my own?" he replied.

"You know.. Engleby, the book, said that this 'busy' thingisn't a commitment, it's an evasion," she added.

“When I tell you I’m busy, I really mean I’m busy.”

And she couldn't think of a suitable reply until now..

Jikaini hakikatnya

Aku serahkan jiwa & ragaku

Menantimuwalau sengsara

Jikaini ketentuannya
Kaukan jadi milikku
Jua

Big and Empty

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 11:34:00 +0000

I've been sitting on my couch, looking at my apartment, wondering why is it that it has somehow managed to retrieve the feeling of being big. And empty.

This was how it felt when I first moved in about a year ago. Though it is smaller than the old place, it actually feels huge. Over time and months, it no longer felt such a distance to get from the front door to the window.

Yet, that feeling is back.

"Why?" I am asking myself. How did I let this happen?

TnT

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 06:14:00 +0000

"Someone must have cursed our family's name," said Bernie yesterday evening as we caught up across the miles. Her dad was admitted to the hospital and as of this afternoon, no signs of improvement.

So yes, at a glance, with 2 family members brought down healthwise, it sure does look like there's a whole voodoo clan out there with our names on it.

But as I sat and looked around my nephew's space in the ward yesterday, I realised that whatever voodoo hulla-bulla that is assumed placed, it's not really working all. We have gotten it off light.

When you see those around you bearing more - you'd count your lucky stars.

Amusing

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 14:23:00 +0000

Someone told me yesterday, that I should extract the best of my posts and compile them into a book.

In this midst of all this chaos, I thought the idea was proporterous and definitely way out of this world. I mean, who would actually pick up a book of musings from an unknown, written usually in angst or alcoholic haze? Hello - I am not Chelsea and I never meant to ring up Vodka.

Amusing ain't it ~ madness in chaos?

The Grim & I

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 02:39:00 +0000

The months past, I feel like I've a new best mate. Invisible to the living eye, Terry Prachett cites that he comes with his skeletal horse and a pet - Death of Rats. Last night my youngest nephew, my only Godchild, was in Intensive Care after an auto accident. Adult human error for sure. So while the Grim may have been winning in our recent showdowns - I'm telling him THIS child is not fair play. God will pass my message on.

Fiel

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 11:56:00 +0000

I'm trying very hard to find a solid reason why I keep coming back to this place. Why I keep revisiting this one issue, challenge. And why sometimes when I do, I can easily brush it aside, while at other times it can crumble me into a messed pile on the couch.

Maybe it's true...

I suppose what we see, what we hear, what we witness bears some weight to what we decide. And yes, while we may have made a decision once before, the world doesn't stay still and as such, pathways and futures in tandem, do not stay the same either.

Maybe two is better than one...

If for nothing else that the last month has shown me, it would be that life is short and I am wondering if I am letting my life waste away, waiting for circumstances to come back into favour, waiting for control to be gained once again.

Everything you do and words you say
You know that it all takes my breath away
And now I'm left with nothing

Yet, if I were to truly examine it from all points - I can't really say that I am wasting my life away. If anything, I have never been more in control of what I want and going after it. And while I would love to take absolute credit for it, I know I cannot say for certain that without my all-spark, I wouldn't be here.

But there's so much time, to figure out the best in my life
And you've already got me coming undone

There is a Spanish saying: Si quiero ser fiel a alguien o algo, primero debo ser fiel a mi mismo ~ To be faithful to someone or something, first I must be faithful to myself. And if I were to follow that saying, then I must admit that I have already made my decision - so long ago. And because I don't know how to deal with missing a piece of me, I go round the mulberry bush, finding a ruse to disguise it.

Perhaps rather than muddling the issue, I should just look it straight in the eye and face it for it really is. Two is really not better than one. You don't have to tell me that. I know.

When I close my eyes and drift away
I think of you and everything's okay

So this is the last we'll hear of this, in this fashion. Making it count with those who count is what makes it all worth it.

And finally now, believing that
I can't live without you...

Okay... I can do this.

Between BFFs

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 08:10:00 +0000

This is a conversation between bff Mandy and me not ten minutes ago ~ "And i wanted to tell u this" she said following it with "You cannot run away from me.."

Okays Mandy - you win. I'm IT.

Winter Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 13:07:00 +0000

The Bear asked me to catch up with him tomorrow when I shared that I had taken the day off. My reply to him was that he's blown me off so many times before, I didn't quite see a point in it. I further added that in my current state of mind, if he did do that, I'd probably disown him for good in fury.

Today was not really a good day. As I told Alex - I'm all blue and wanted to hole up at home under the covers and wait for the day(s) to go by. The rain outside my window is not helping much either - it'll be strange to say this but it is true - I suffer from the Winter Blues in a tropical climate country.

I could say, that this is precisely one of the reasons why, people choose not to go down this path. That it was not worth all the endless moaning at the end of the day. That sometimes, poor quality is still better than zero quantity.

I could say, that I'm not brave enough to take matters into my own hands. And say enough is enough - I am drawing the line. I do not, not for an abundance of cowardice. But because I know that the random bits of good far outweighs the massive black hole.

There is nothing wrong. Just a lack of communication. A lack of knowing that the other person is still there. And I should know better when he is off on his rainbow chasing expeditions - and literally in this case, looking for the pot of gold at the end of it.

And under normal circumstances, I would cope better. I have coped better. But these days and weeks have been anything but normal. Just as I think I have sent the Grim Reaper away, news of yet another death comes my way. And while it is of someone who is of not much personal consequence to me, it is still a piece of news - of someone who shares some of my DNA passing. Another life lost not even old.

If I had a genie in a bottle, I would cast my wish like John Donne's Bait and simply say:

Come live with me, and be my love

And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.

Hands - Yours

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 11:22:00 +0000

I have been wanting to write about Rihanna's coming out about that fateful night in February when even the rich, famous and gorgeous is not spared the woes of the common woman. In particular, the common woman in most countries where what goes on in the house does not see the light of day.

I recall thinking as I read the article(s) of how sad this young lady's life is - that she had to firstly make the decision of leaving the one she loved cos it was just not right, and secondly coming out in public to declare her stand because it was her 'duty' as a role-model of sorts for people around the world.

Rihanna admits to being embarrassed ~ that she was capable (or perhaps a better choice of words would be gullible) of falling in love with someone of that nature. And I thought to myself - it could be any nature or character flaw for that matter - abusive, drunkenness, weakness for gambling, cheating without a qualm - this would have to be the most painful part of the whole experience.

I guess I can finally sit down and write out my thoughts on this simply because I have just heard this evening of how a lady, twice Rihanna's age, is in a relationship conundrum. And I dare to bet my last dollar on which choice she would make.

Whilst I shake my head over her predicament, I cannot share my sympathies on how her life turns out from here on out. Of course, you can argue that a decision in such circumstance is never an easy one to make. You try to imagine life on both sides - with and without. But I know for a fact, that despite all that is said and how most of the odds are stacked against her, for the moment while she is standing at this cross-road, her life, her future lies in no one's hands but her own.

As the Dixie Chicks say in their song You were Mine:

I can't find a reason to let go

Even though you've found a new love
And she's what your dreams are made of
I can find a reason to hang on ~
What went wrong can be forgiven
Without you, it ain't worth livin' alone

Perhaps for some, the vision of being without is slightly easier to bear - if they know that they would not be alone through it all. But I acknowledge that not everybody is as blessed as I was, to be supported in the manner that I was supported.

And what Rihanna says about being finally able to think back on that night - applies to everyone, rich or poor, black, white or yellow. Sure - you'd feel as if there is nothing left in you that is going to enable you to go on if you choose to walk away.

But if you take a brief moment to reflect on your hands - be they covering your body to shield you from the blows, or be they wrapped tightly around your own self in a metaphoric way of keeping the broken heart from falling out - try to always remember this: they are YOUR hands. What you do with them - no one can make that action but you, yourself.

And whichever way you turn that steering wheel, it may not be much of a consolation.. but hey -

It won't rain all the time.

The sky won't fall forever.

And though the night seems long,

your tears won't fall forever.

Keep On Walking

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 02:21:00 +0000

"You should update your blog more," Mandy wrote last week in our daily GoogleTalk conversations. And I know why she said what she said. For indeed, the Shooter has been silent, despite so many things taking place. Things that in the past, I would scramble to the nearest computer to write down.

But things are not quite the same anymore is it? For starters, it occurred to me - we've not had the phrase "dark and twisted" suffice in any of the postings for a long while now. And all the booze in the house that were here 3 months ago, are still here - in the exact same quantities they were last touched at.

While it is all good, it also scares me. Scares me that I have chosen to keep my words and thoughts, choosing to share its deepest darkness with only one. And one whose perspectives and opinions differ so vastly from mine. Yet the difference is so complimentary, I no longer find any relief in merely putting my thoughts down, here or anywhere else.

It used to be that we would have some normalcy in the craziness of the world. But those times have grown so far and few in between - I have gone from counting the days in the week to counting the Sundays in a month. And lately, my state has been so drained, I cannot find even the mental energy to do any counting. And his state has been so drained that he doesn't have any spare mental energy to prop me up in the way he used to.

Don't get me wrong - I am not going down on a spiral into one of those non-existent rabbit holes. I am merely putting down the facts. The facts of my life. The fact that the one I would give my life for, the one who pieced me back together again, is one who we are not familiar with.

For as long as I have been allowed to, I have been with men who believes in relationships where two lives cleave together. Didn't quite matter if the time spent were quality time. It was more or less a question of quantity over quality. So much so that most of my friends when they hear from me, they would know that that one has come to an end.

But now it is different. Once, when nothing I did was pretty much for myself; now everything I do is for my own self. Once, when I lived for another; now I live for myself. And it's all good cos there is this separate entity altogether for once, that is ME.

Yet sometimes.. just sometimes.. despite all reminders that we have to "than chiak" (make a living)... I do so want to say...

Why don't you come home, its not very far.

I wait up each night, for the sound of your car.

Well, we both knew it wouldn't be easy.

Oh how we both knew it wouldn't be easy.

Oh yeah , but oh I never thought it ever be, ever be this hard.

I'm bored and alone, it's been far too long.
Why don't you come home, it's where you belong.
Well, we all could do with the money,
But oh whats the use of the money,
When we ain't got no time...

It's been three weeks, since I got a decent sleep.
I've a restless head and an empty bed,
these dreams are killing me
So, I keep on walking
'til the sun comes up.

Some Things Remain The Same

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 13:48:00 +0000

One of my nightly rituals is to flip the page on my never-ending calendar. As I turned the page for tomorrow, the saying caught my attention and brought me up short. It quotes William James' saying: The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.

As I went back through my blog archive, I verified that yes indeed a year ago, I sat at my desk and wrote about people, management and the most important thing about working - the need to be appreciated.

The last year has been more or less a drastic slowdown in pace for me. When the economic world continued on its turmoil-filled spin, life has been quite a walk in the park for me. As friends and loved ones slaved at the grind, not to get a better percentage of increment but merely to save their jobs, I have to crack my head for work to do just to pass the time from 9 am to 5 pm, Mondays to Fridays.

It is indeed hard when the accounting balances do not justify a huge payout of festive incentives and what-have-you-not. But I have learnt that sometimes (not all the time) it is not all financial reward that matters.

As I told my colleague of my plans for next year, and how I think we can work out a path for her that would justify and enable her to go up a little bit more, it occurred to me that sometimes.. just sometimes.. the simplest gesture of "thank you for standing by me" would be enough.

I would do well to remember that.

Unk-ka

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 09:48:00 +0000

One of the things I have learnt about being an adult and a parent is the importance of keeping to one's word. Try breaking your promise to a child and you'll never live it down.

We've just come back from afternoon tea with the children's uncle (so very tempted to say long-lost but heck - water under the whatever!). And I was most surprised when he messaged last night to set up the meeting. Surprised because it was one thing to had wanted to take us to lunch two weeks back, but weeks on, it's not something I would expect him to honour.

Perhaps this low level of expectation stems from my personal low level of obligations ~ I never hold anyone to their word in this sort of instances for often it was said without being thought through and thus may be just the polite thing to merely say and not do.

Perhaps it is because his brother never kept to any of his promises way back then. And so, the thought of a common value system comes into play.

He's just made plans for the kids to catch up with him again next week, and later in the month for some outing when their blood cousins come down from Penang for their hols.

Do I do expect him to follow through on these? Yes, I do. For he's always been the better son and adult. And if he has been diligently going back to Penang every fortnight to see his kids, I know for a fact that he's knows the meaning and value of making and keeping promises to children.

And people like that in Lydia's and Luke's life are far and few. Which is why, there is no doubt at all that I will allow them to continue to catch up with him, their Uncle.

Another Phantom Letter

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 13:15:00 +0000

The event of the last month has made me seriouslytake stock of my life – the full 34 years worth of it.

You said we should livelife to the fullest or else it would mean nothing. But then I’d have to ask –what is living life to the fullest? Is it doing what we want, when we want andin whatever fashion we want?

I used to say I must go bungee jumping so thatwhen I lay dying, I can say “I did it all.” But that was when bungee was allthe fad. So what then? Does the list never end?

I recall this movie – JackNicholson and Morgan Freeman – The Bucket List – where the two men, dying ofcancer, makes a list of things they should do before they die. Do I do thesame? Write my bucket list now and set out to achieve it? What if there is moreto life than what I put on that list? Then what?

Or would it be more important to focus on what is important... on what really matters as another person living on this insane and lonely planet?

Time, is going by, so much faster than I,
And I'm starting to regret not spending all of it with you.
Now I'm, wondering why, I've kept this bottled inside,
So I'm starting to regret not telling all of this to you.
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know...
Never gonna be alone!
From this moment on, if you ever feel like letting go,
I won't let you fall..
When all hope is gone, I know that you can carry on.
We're gonna see the world out,
I'm gonna be there always,
I won't be missing one more day...
I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone.

Time.. Passes

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 09:18:00 +0000

BFF came back on Sunday and well, like I've said before - some things aren't real until they are told to my dear ole Mandy. And last week is one of those episodes.

But I am sure of this... one fine morning, I will wake up without certain persons and certain questions on my mind.

As with all things in life that I have come to learn - patience... time too will pass.

A Fresh Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 06:45:00 +0000

ob⋅li⋅ga⋅tion ~ noun

Something by which a person is bound orobliged to do certain things, and which arises out of a sense of duty orresults from custom, law, etc.
Something that is done or is to be done forsuch reasons
A binding promise, contract, sense of duty,etc.
The act of binding or obliging oneself by apromise, contract, etc.
A debt of gratitude

One of the things that has changed about life as I know it (even though technically, there should not be any changes!!) is the reconnection of old ties. Ties that got severed when bridges burnt down. Ties that extend from my own self to Lydia and Luke. And for the better part, the tale of reconnection is not mine. It is theirs.

We begin life with few obligations. We pledge allegiance to the flag. We swear to return our library books.

For all their lives, when one mentions 'grandparents', these two only know of my mum and dad. They are the ones they see, day in, day out. They are the ones who nurse them when they are ill, dance with joy when they get great exam scores and beam with pride at each and every school function.

They have always known they have another set of grandparents somewhere out there, but it has never been a subject of discussion due to some persona non grata thingy. This other set are virtual strangers to my kids.

But as we get older we take vows, makepromises, get burden by commitments, to do no harm, to tell the truth andnothing but, to love, to cherish till death do us part.

Tonight they will meet them, in person, technically for the first time. And both sides are nervous as hell, with me stuck in between.

Luke and Lydia both have questions - plenty. Where have they been? What are their names? Do they know who we are? And my folks and I have been trying our level best to prepare them for the meeting ~ yes, these sort of meetings cannot be left to chance so some preparation needs to be done and out of the way first.

I have given them a rough physical description. Have told them the language barrier challenge. And the very high likelihood of how they might want to "hold your hand, touch your face, give you a bear hug" because they are a reminder of what is now gone.

So we just keep running up the tab 'til weowe everything to everybody and suddenly ... what the.

I also know that the unsaid behind this first step is that I am effectively casting my children into a different set of cultural shoes. From now on, Luke is the eldest grandchild. If we were royalties, he would now be the first in line. And with that, in our culture would come certain responsibilities that would need fulfilling when the time comes.

I also know the old folks would not ask this of me but I could not possibly be so callous as to always leave the offering to come from their end. I would have to occasionally consider doing a road-trip with the kids so they "go home" instead.

And I am wondering if this would keep up.

So we do what any sane person would do. Werun like hell from our promises, hoping they'll be forgotten. But sooner or later, they always catch up.

Regardless of what happens from here on out, it would have to be something I factor into my life, our lives. But as with everything else that I have done in the last 4 days, I'm not dreading it. In fact, I am pleased that the children would get to know a different side of their life.

After all... sooner or later, this would all have had to take place anyways.

And sometimes you find the obligation you dread the most isn't worth runningfrom at all.

How's That Charlie Brown?

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 01:07:00 +0000

The dictionary defines grief as keen mentalsuffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.

For 2 days, friends, colleagues and cousinshave asked me if I am okay. For a spell, I wondered “Why?” What is therationale or reason for asking? Is there any reason why I should not be? Is itnot all water under the whatever now? After all, it has been years and it’s notas if I do not still know how to love or be happy. So why? Why should I not bealright? Why do I need to grieve? WHAT IS THERE to grieve about?

There are five stages of grief. They lookdifferent on all of us, but there are always five.

Ben told me to keep the head’s up – that allthis sudden rush of mention would find a way to duck me when I least expect it.I silently laughed at his text. And coolly told him that I was only going to gosay my peace, for the last time and then be done with it.

Grief may be a thing we all have in common,but it looks different on everyone.

But because he is my Jiminy Cricket, andbecause he has been in his way, preparing me to accept death as part and parcelof life and living, he also saw all the demons I have been keeping at bay,toying with them in lil bits and then saying I’m done.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

In many ways, my mourning started yearsago. And if this finality is anything to go by, it sees me moving into the lastof it. A calm acceptance of how things had turned out, that I had given it myall, have been giving it my all. Perhaps I could have done a little bit morebut there’s nothing I can do about it now. And all said and done, we’ve donewell for ourselves in the end, in our own way.

But what I did wrong was imprint onto mychildren that they too should feel and think the same way I do. I did the wholegung-ho thing on their behalf when Ben said it was sad, to think that Lydia andLuke now shared the category of having lost a parent, by telling Ben they neverhad him anyways.

It isn’t just death we have to grieve. It’slife. It’s loss. It’s change.

I should have seen it coming when Luke, age6, solemnly told me that my analogy of his father-and-son relationship is akinto Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker (complete with the ‘Luke I am your father’saying) WAS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. I guess in a way I did, as did my brother who wasin the vicinity. But I brushed it off as Luke having one of his moments and notunderstanding or appreciating Star Wars.

Lydia had her complete meltdown at nightprayers, with her legendary heart-wrenching sobs with a smeared howl of “I cannever say goodbye to him anymore.” And of asking if she could see him one lasttime.

My brave lil soldiers kept it all in, in mypresence until their little hearts could hold it no more.

The very worst part is that the minute youthink you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away.

Sitting down in my folks’ front porch thisevening, they wanted to know everything. What does he look like now? Who isthere at his memorial? What is he wearing? Did I take a photo of him in thecoffin? Why did his heart stop beating? Why did he go away? And... Did he lovethem?

Grief comes in its own time for everyone,in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty.

I did not want these two youngsters tothink they were not loved, or they were at fault. And so I forced myself toremember all the good times, all the good things. But they were slow in coming,because I didn’t want them to. Cos to remember the good times would only bringme to my feet and wept for a life past.

The really crappy thing, the very worstpart of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes. And let it go when we can.

But I know that whatever I said thisevening will come back again and again ~ kids being kids, what they do notunderstand or comprehend, they do not retain. And so I had to do it. I had todig out everything from the box double, triple sealed and go through everythingthat was once life as I knew it.

And when we wonder why it has to suck somuch sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we gotta try to remember is thatit can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive.

So yes, I am grieving tonight.

Grieving for a life lost not quite so old.

Grieving how he will never see any of hischildren step up to receive their scroll, don a white dress and veil, givinghim their hand to walk down the aisle, stand at the altar beaming as hiswould-be daughter-in-law come up to them.

Grieving how Lydia and Luke would neverhave the chance to say “You are my father and I am your son, daughter.”

Grieving for how I would never be able tosay again “You can see them if you wanted to.”

When it hurts so much you can't breathe,that's how you survive.

I can smile now. Not a false bravado smile.I can live with the far-fetch thought that if Lydia wanted to put one of theframed pictures out by her bedside, I would not avoid going into her room.

By remembering that one day, somehow,impossibly, you won't feel this way.

I have been here before. And I came out ofit.

It won't hurt this much.

The three of us will be alright.

Done & Dusted

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 02:37:00 +0000

I think I will go down in the "memorial flashbacks" as the loony-one who had a one-sided conversation by the brown box in the hall.

Takeall of your wasted honour

Every little past frustration

Take all of your so-called problems,

Better put 'em in quotations

And it was a surreal experience - for once, I had the last word in ~ which is rare if you put it in context.

Walkinglike a one man army

Fighting with the shadows in your head

Living out the same old moment

Knowing you'd be better off instead,

If you could only . . .

And I could say everything that has ever come to mind but left hidden. Tho the best part of it all would be how I was able to rag into him (Obesity??? WTF happened to you?!) like I do with my buddies.

Evenif your hands are shaking

And your faith is broken

Even as the eyes are closing

Do it with a heart wide open

But it don't really matter what "tag" has likely been given to me ~ I've said all I needed to say... including "I forgive you" which I think was what I really needed to do in the very end.

Haveno fear for giving in

Have no fear for giving over

You'd better know that in the end

It's better to say too much

Then never say what you need to say again

And now that faces and names have been put in their right proper place, burnt bridges mended in a manner of sorts, it's time to move on.

Author's Note:

I would like to express my utter appreciation to all buddies who carried me through it.. Would not have been able to do it without your logic, rationale and strength!

In Memory Of...

noreply@blogger.com (Barbsie) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 05:55:00 +0000

For about 5 minutes as my phone kept beeping in church, my mind fast forwarded to what it could mean, when an old friend says "My condolence." All scenarios played itself out in double-time. It wasn't till a second old contact called that I knew in my heart of hearts, that it was what I dared not imagine.

My children's biological father passed away in the wee hours of this morning. He was only 41 years, 1 month and 22 days old.

I am surprised at myself. That it shook me enough to sink me to the ground and burst into tears. And it still does, hours later. Better get any tear-shedding done and out of the way. It won't do for another little girl to ask her mummy who I am and why I was looking at her daddy and crying.

If we had been better people, better human beings, we would have found ways to remain friends and co-exist in the lives of two other people we created. But we were not, and we will now never be. And I suppose that is ultimately it.

Perhaps, part of me, always thought that one day, in the justified world of right and wrong, my phone would ring or my email box would have a message, saying "I'm sorry" and that he would like to make it up to Lydia and Luke. Perhaps, he might have thought it and perhaps he also thought that he would live forever and so had all the time in the world to do it.

My religion tells me that when our souls leave our bodies, we go and stand before God, accounting for all the things we have done in our lives. I would like to think that God is now coming to that bit where He goes "So that episode, when you decided that you would no longer care or acknowledge that you have two children... How's about that one?" I cannot for the life of me, formulate his reply for him.

Our friends (yes, we still keep mutual friends) thought I ought to go - do the right thing and pay my last respects. I thought so as well, after all, everything is done and dusted already. With the exception of Ben, my friends thought otherwise. I am torn. But as Paul rightfully said - it's not should or should not, but want or don't want. And it is a whole lot of soul-searching to arrive at which side of the line I stand on.

Just last night, my darling boy, rushed from one thing to another, sat in his chair, dog-tired, telling me how you don't really realise what you have lost until it's gone. How his mum used to ring him asking what time he'd be home and to say that dinner was on the table, and how he missed it after she left (yes, he can't bring himself to say the d-word).

And being the darling that he is, my Jiminy Cricket, he says I should be there. This last time. Regardless of what had happened before, if I didn't do this, I would always be haunted by it and never close that chapter fully. And that because it is as it has turned out now, I need that closure myself in order to help Lydia and Luke close theirs when their turn comes as they grow older.

When I woke up this morning, I did not think today would unfold as such. If I am to learn anything today, it would only to re-emphasize just how short life is. We can love today, we can keep love for tomorrow. We can hold grudges, we can offer forgiveness. We can hold apologies, we can show magnanimity.

There is no right or wrong answer. It boils down to what we choose and being able to live with that choice.

So yes, I will go and stand before a box in a hall today. I will dress myself in black and mourn for a moment as I would be required to mourn if things were different back then. And I do not need a reason to justify why I will do all these things, when I do not have to.

For a spell, he was my sun and moon, day and night. We built dreams and we fought through their disappearance. What we had, we shared. For a spell, we had a world of our own and I have Lydia and Luke to show for it.

In Memoriam

Chang Say Peng, Ray
26th August 1968 ~ 17th October 2009
Leaves behind a legacy of broken dreams and 3 children
At best, he tried...