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The End

I am in a hotel room.

It is unclear who else is in the room. It must be my family. But I am uncertain. I know I am in the room with people I love.

The hotel room is in a building that towers above ground level, and we can see all the houses below.

I am in Hawaii I think. How I know that I do not know. All I know is that we are beside the ocean.

I feel unsettled as I look out the window. Something is compelling me to look outside the window. It is getting dark. But I know by right it should not be dark. It is midday. And then I see it.

In front of me a huge storm cloud is gathering. But I start to quiver because it looks like no ordinary storm. The clouds are pitch black. Black as death. My eyes follow their shape to where they originate. I gasp.

I see a gigantic water spout, a tornado in the ocean, funnelling its energy to the black cloud. The water spout is also pitch black. Rain now pours uncontrollably. It is a hurricane at its full blast, but not just that. It is much, much more.

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Help is always far away

Help is never far away.

That is the old adage that has been drummed into us ever since we were young.

No matter where you are, and what difficulty you are going through, someone will be close at hand to help.

Except they aren't.

Many a time no one in your vicinity gives a rat's ass. Or could be in a mess of their own to even think that someone else may need the support. Just that little bit of assurance to show that they care. Sometimes it can be in the smallest things. A kind word. A check up of how one is doing.

Yet help does come.

Someone takes the time to respond, in short messages, all the way from across the Pacific Ocean.

Someone does take the time to relate, and share their own experiences, and offers words of comfort from across the country.

Yes, help is at hand, but it is always far away.

*picture credit here


How does one forgive someone who has done them and their loved ones so much wrong?

This is a question that I struggle with, and have always struggled with for a long time. 
How does one push past the pain and suffering that a person had willingly caused, worse yet, caused to someone that they loved. We stand at the sidelines, and feel ourselves slighted, yet the pain we feel is minuscule, compared to the earth-shattering hurt our loved one experiences. Yet we are powerless, drowning in a helplessness, grasping for any lifeline that can pull ourselves out from the deep. 
How can we let go when hatred is all we know. A hatred that festered from seeds of dislike. This poison that we feed ourselves. Yet it is all we know. 
How does one tell oneself to let go?
If a person murders your son, and returns a month later, saying he is genuinely sorry; what would you do? He comes in and says he will pay for the cleaning bill, to wipe the blood stains off the floor, and to send the carpet for dry…

Key in hand

Image taken from here
As I am gardening, my mind begins to wonder. A pleasurable activity, now that I have some time on my hands. as my hands sift through the earth I come across a small shiny object.

What is this? I wonder. 
I pick it up, and it appears to be a key. I rub the dirt off the key and I see the letters B...L...O...GGER. I am amazed. So that's where it's been all this while. These couple of years. 
Perhaps it's time for me to start writing again.

Oh blogosphere, wherefore art thou

I remember when the highlight of my day was to see my blog roll shift, signalling that there was a new post in any of the blogs that I followed. I would usually attack the link with a voracious appetite. Here was something that I knew would stimulate my thoughts, tickle my funny bone, provoke passionate responses. But most of all, it was connecting with friends on a deep level. The kind of connection one could achieve by a chat over a good coffee, all in the comfort of one’s own home. I would always wonder what Ailin would be doing in Sweden, and how she was faring in her battle with pain; where Fauziah Ismail was and what adventures (and gripes) she would share; or what entertaining fad Ah Beng would share from his treasure trove of a brain; what epiphany of language and culture Jordan Macvay would experience. And oh so many, many more.
But progress is a cruel master, and like all roads lead to Rome, progress on the Internet all led to Facebook. At first I was ecstatic to connect to…

Time blocks

Image credit here.

I used to always think it was strange that Dad was never able to sit through a whole movie with us when we were growing up. He would perhaps start watching one with us, and leave after about 30 minutes, to do whatever it was that he would rather be doing.

That is, until I found myself challenged trying to finish a whole movie myself, without feeling the urge to hit the fast-forward button, at times, or even getting up and going to my study to do something else that was more productive. I can't remember exactly when I started behaving this way, but I think it could have started sometime during my PhD.

Unless it was a movie that I really wanted to watch (and not my children), then I found that it was almost impossible to sit through the whole thing.

Things that I normally found more engaging/pressing/interesting than watching through a whole movie:

The Internet. Yes. That's right. Even though it was little more than scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed with …

Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori

Photo credit here

The 22nd of August was day of mourning for the whole nation. Malaysians from every walk of life gave a minute of silence for the dead as their earthly remains were transported from the coldness of foreign shores to the warmth of the embrace of their Ibu Pertiwi, their Earth Mother. 
And yet, hardly a day had gone by when a headline rudely splashed across my Facebook newsfeed:  “PKR leader calls National Mourning Day an excessive affair”, which immediately raised my ire out of the sheer audacity and disrespect toward the dead, and toward a nation in mourning. How dare this upstart politician use this tragedy as a grounds to bash the government? Has he no decency? Has he no respect? I straight away clicked on the link to find out more about this person. 
And I was surprised.
This was no ordinary politician. He was a retired Admiral of the Malaysian Armed Forces, someone who had dedicated his life to the preservation of our nation’s well-being, our way of life. And her…