A Peaceful settlement.... continued
For a moment so still, it seemed like one at the crossroads considering options. In this case it was two persons, and the event of the scrub brush “to ask or not to ask”. Certainly not so much for Leah as it was for Eve. As the former went away that day to continue on her toilet floors, she wondered about a friendship. In the Rosemary the girls are continually surrounded by people. They smile at the love birds and stare from behind doors at the celebrities. What stories the French or Chinese bring, or the polite nods from Japanese, they embrace interestedly and dream about. But they are selfish with these dreams. Quite unlike other young girls who chirp and twitter long into the night, it’s silent for Eve and Leah. Telling out dreams would simply vaporize them. But while music and morning walks and breakfast cooked encourage dimensional crossings via the mind, the morning walks end, music becomes the cook’s crisp instructions and breakfast is digested.
This night at 9p.m, having prepared rooms 502 and 511 for guests due to arrive the next day and leaving a stalk of primrose on the pillows, Eve paced her own. It was a simply furnished bed-sit with cream-washed walls and no television (because television kills romance). Perhaps the only remarkable items were two framed pieces of painting hung up side by side above the two- seater. One shows the back-view of a young girl tip-toeing looking out of a window but only being able to see some red brick wall. This brick wall continues down into the alleyway where it is home to a family of cats and some dancing brown leaves, which is what the second work of art depicts- that, and the opened window from the upper storey with a small part of a girl’s head in view. Eve liked to imagine from the two paintings. She also liked to rearrange the furniture in the bed-sit. Tonight, she did no such thing. After flipping restlessly through her book, Eve laid it down with a sigh and went to sleep.
There was unrest in The Rosemary the next day. The paperboy had dashed into the motel crying, “Accident! There has been an accident!” It was fatal, it seems. At about spring every year, a pair of siblings makes it to the Rosemary B& B together. In their early 30s, Missy Prindaville is due to be married in August. Adrian is still single. It was a pact between them that for 5 years and without fail, they would take time off from work to spend “family time”. Being orphaned from young, they were affectionate towards each other and like family to the motel staff. Adrian came primarily to ride his horse. Horse was purebred and entered in competitions. But having suffered an ulcer that took 6 months to heal and that later became a keloid in his left buttock, Horse henceforth lost his material worth and the owner let it graze in the orchards. This was until Adrian came along and loved it to its palm-sized flaw. This morning however, Horse did not successfully leap over the trunk in the brook and Adrian went in head- first, breaking his neck instantaneously.
Missy Prindaville wept and mourned at the funeral, said she would be back every spring. But for now she had to return to the city for her wedding. The Rosemary too had to go on as before, for though deeply saddened by the demise of one of their much loved patrons, Adrian was after all only a patron. Eve and Leah were the biggest hit. Eve felt like the little girl in the painting, and death was the red brick wall, certain and hard. This wall obscured all that was beyond and Eve blamed herself for not being able to know more. These feelings had not, however, obscured her observations of the other young girl who had taken to writing music late into the night. Eve hears the humming and scratching sounds of pencil on paper when she crosses the hall to use the toilet. Despite the late nights, the kitchen hand’s work did not suffer. The cooking and eating area was always without grime and now that some cooking jobs were left to her, the fragrance of eggs and bacon seasoned with pepper continued to raft in The Rosemary. But if Leah was once upon a time polite to Eve, she now didn’t see her.
One late January morning, when the autumn leaves had started to gather and part for the fairies’ crossing, the girls once again came to face with each other with a little more than a perfect courtesy. It all happened when Eve stepped past Leah’s room and the latter was not around. The door was ajar and Eve could see that the wind had started to blow the transcripts loose on the table and onto the floor. She quickly ran in to prevent more mischief from being done. Having placed a paperweight on the papers and set the panes firmly down, she turned to leave but jolted when she saw Leah standing at the door frame.
“ Your papers…”
“ yes, thank you. I rushed up here when I realized my carelessness.”
“Alright then. They’re safe.” Eve smiled shyly as she stepped past Leah. Until she realized the tears coming down the girl’s face.
“This is the music playing in my head the days and nights of the wake and funeral. I couldn’t sleep until I got them on paper. But how do you get rid of the sadness?”
“You don’t. But you know, it’s going to be ok. We can go through this together.” And saying that, the taller girl gave the smaller, sobbing one a hug.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank You for Your many promises of blessings. I am thankful that You are my refuge and I can run to You when I am in trouble. I am also grateful that You keep me from the traps of the devil. Lord, I do love You, and I ask that You cleanse my heart from any thing that is not like You. Strengthen me to walk worthy before You and my fellow men. Lord, restore the "fear of the Lord" to Your people today. Lord, forgive us when, in certain areas, we have become too casual about the things of God. Instill in us, Your people, a reverential fear of Your Holy Name and Word. I ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.
Prayer from http://www.bible.com/devotional-detail.php?juli=2454210&dtype=Proverbs on Psalms 109, “The fear of the Lord”
Thank You for Your many promises of blessings. I am thankful that You are my refuge and I can run to You when I am in trouble. I am also grateful that You keep me from the traps of the devil. Lord, I do love You, and I ask that You cleanse my heart from any thing that is not like You. Strengthen me to walk worthy before You and my fellow men. Lord, restore the "fear of the Lord" to Your people today. Lord, forgive us when, in certain areas, we have become too casual about the things of God. Instill in us, Your people, a reverential fear of Your Holy Name and Word. I ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.
Prayer from http://www.bible.com/devotional-detail.php?juli=2454210&dtype=Proverbs on Psalms 109, “The fear of the Lord”
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Something about swimming (III)
-Creatures of habit-
I swam in different waters today. Where usually I’d inhabit the third lane from extreme right, I took the centre lane. This part I tip-toed to with trepidation, for even the waters felt colder. This is the lane which dissects the blue rectangle block in half and which many avoid for obvious reasons.
Firstly, it’s a mother’s warning that centre lane is where you will most possibly experience some form of danger and difficulty; cramps, breathlessness or sudden inability or forgetfulness to swim. For the life-guards to get to you, they will have to cut through four lanes a- side, most inadvertently being hindered by several bobbers along the way, and all these essential minutes, only having ascertained it not a prank. Of course, normal swimmers in the neighbour lanes will not even try to rescue you since they are not the mandated life-savers.
Secondly, the kind of swimmers there are harder to assess. Just today, I was doing the usual can’t-look-in-front front-crawl when suddenly I felt some strange inhibition. A palm was placed atop my head by an old man swimmer from the opposite direction to stop me proceeding and banging into him. Quite akin to a policeman signaling “no going ahead” (pun not intended), this was his own way of avoiding collision. Thirdly, centre lane is attention-grabbing. I have memories of the campus pool, where lanes are numbered according to the efficiency of the swimmer. Lane one is fastest, lane ten for those opting for aqua-aerobics aka water walking. Lane five is judgment lane because obviously, if you were a lane six swimmer you were below average. Centre lane is viewed with intensity and interest.
Could these, then, be the reasons for snorting in more water, battling bigger waves and experiencing more jerky motions and strength-less kicks? Is it more pieces of queer pieces of band-aids, dark thread, hair and leaves I see on the pool floor?
Or could it be that I am just a creature of habit- third lane from extreme right, and that only?
-Creatures of habit-
I swam in different waters today. Where usually I’d inhabit the third lane from extreme right, I took the centre lane. This part I tip-toed to with trepidation, for even the waters felt colder. This is the lane which dissects the blue rectangle block in half and which many avoid for obvious reasons.
Firstly, it’s a mother’s warning that centre lane is where you will most possibly experience some form of danger and difficulty; cramps, breathlessness or sudden inability or forgetfulness to swim. For the life-guards to get to you, they will have to cut through four lanes a- side, most inadvertently being hindered by several bobbers along the way, and all these essential minutes, only having ascertained it not a prank. Of course, normal swimmers in the neighbour lanes will not even try to rescue you since they are not the mandated life-savers.
Secondly, the kind of swimmers there are harder to assess. Just today, I was doing the usual can’t-look-in-front front-crawl when suddenly I felt some strange inhibition. A palm was placed atop my head by an old man swimmer from the opposite direction to stop me proceeding and banging into him. Quite akin to a policeman signaling “no going ahead” (pun not intended), this was his own way of avoiding collision. Thirdly, centre lane is attention-grabbing. I have memories of the campus pool, where lanes are numbered according to the efficiency of the swimmer. Lane one is fastest, lane ten for those opting for aqua-aerobics aka water walking. Lane five is judgment lane because obviously, if you were a lane six swimmer you were below average. Centre lane is viewed with intensity and interest.
Could these, then, be the reasons for snorting in more water, battling bigger waves and experiencing more jerky motions and strength-less kicks? Is it more pieces of queer pieces of band-aids, dark thread, hair and leaves I see on the pool floor?
Or could it be that I am just a creature of habit- third lane from extreme right, and that only?
Monday, April 02, 2007
Something about swimming (II)
-The head-on collision-
So. swimming takes my breath away. It starts from the kick-off, thoughts of life and its ironies; the seventh lap, the ‘what would I be having for dinner’ question… and… with a “BANG!” “ouch!” I cough , sputter and flail my arms. Do I look back to indicate contrition or intense pain or do I swim off? This time I continue on my way hoping the other person won’t recognize my blue swim suit and matching turquoise goggles. Always expected but unexpected; inevitable and yet trained to avoid, is the nature of collision. There is always the question of who’s at fault. And of course most of the time, I won’t think it’s me. It can’t have been. The other person must know that when you do the front-crawl you look down, and then tilt sideways to get air, not up and ahead.
There’s the nicely plump, middle age auntie in her flower power suit who can’t control her breast-stroke direction; the 7-year old kid in his lesson-explaining-pyjamas, and the sleek snobbish swimmer who should’ve known better. But when auntie murmurs “OI!” in a shouting kind of way, the kid looks up at his coach and points to my direction, and the sleek swimmer is triathlete whose timing I’ve apparently ruined, it becomes my responsibility to practice pool safety. No wonder judgment comes from above, when you are not in a position to say who’s wrong. But saying all that, the “sorry” is hard and late. It either comes out in a gurgle or the other has swum away.
When I finally finish the laps and rest at the side, still breathing hard and thinking, I ponder that given the natural nature of collision, the only time you may not bump and knock is when you remain like a frog on a lotus leave. Calm and unruffled; undisturbed because uninvolved. Oh is that so? Because even with me clinging to the wall and my back facing the populous, the arm’s stroke of an in-coming swimmer hits me like electricity.
With that, the lotus leaf overturns and the frog plops back into the water.
-The head-on collision-
So. swimming takes my breath away. It starts from the kick-off, thoughts of life and its ironies; the seventh lap, the ‘what would I be having for dinner’ question… and… with a “BANG!” “ouch!” I cough , sputter and flail my arms. Do I look back to indicate contrition or intense pain or do I swim off? This time I continue on my way hoping the other person won’t recognize my blue swim suit and matching turquoise goggles. Always expected but unexpected; inevitable and yet trained to avoid, is the nature of collision. There is always the question of who’s at fault. And of course most of the time, I won’t think it’s me. It can’t have been. The other person must know that when you do the front-crawl you look down, and then tilt sideways to get air, not up and ahead.
There’s the nicely plump, middle age auntie in her flower power suit who can’t control her breast-stroke direction; the 7-year old kid in his lesson-explaining-pyjamas, and the sleek snobbish swimmer who should’ve known better. But when auntie murmurs “OI!” in a shouting kind of way, the kid looks up at his coach and points to my direction, and the sleek swimmer is triathlete whose timing I’ve apparently ruined, it becomes my responsibility to practice pool safety. No wonder judgment comes from above, when you are not in a position to say who’s wrong. But saying all that, the “sorry” is hard and late. It either comes out in a gurgle or the other has swum away.
When I finally finish the laps and rest at the side, still breathing hard and thinking, I ponder that given the natural nature of collision, the only time you may not bump and knock is when you remain like a frog on a lotus leave. Calm and unruffled; undisturbed because uninvolved. Oh is that so? Because even with me clinging to the wall and my back facing the populous, the arm’s stroke of an in-coming swimmer hits me like electricity.
With that, the lotus leaf overturns and the frog plops back into the water.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Something about swimming
I’m no professional swimmer. The retirees at the community pool possibly surge past me. They wait each morning outside the gates at a quarter past six. I can also relate of at least one avid swimmer who camped out in the toilet overnight to await dawn, so there’s commitment for you. And the involvement of the police. But as I do my first kick off from the wall and take my gulp of air, something about the feel of water, blurry blue lines on the floor; the lap ahead, makes me feel the life of --life.
As a swimmer friend once told me, walking and running come naturally to us since we are trained the moment we can from birth. We stride, sprint and stroll upright until death or unless pre-maturely incapacitated. But in water, it’s an education of a whole new world! We un-breathe or we die; our equilibrium goes awry; the pressure startles us into floating or sinking, and goggles irritate us more than our eye glasses or contact lenses. We don’t even have an operation like “lasik” to remove the ciliary muscles in our human eyes. In fact, my mom often randomly quotes the Chinese proverb that “water is much more feared than mountain.” This is the nature of water that makes the swim a form of conquer.
Comparable to life, we want to do more than survive. We want to succeed in it. Not just drift along where currents bring us, but be able to swim against the tide, or allow its strength to push us forward. We learn the breast-stroke, butterfly, frontcrawl. And when wanting the best of both worlds, we do the backstroke. This morning, I’m doing more frontcrawl than the other styles. There are moments when I forget I am swimming, and think about the day’s commitments, and all the movements become mechanical. But with a distracting splash from the next swimmer, I lose my momentum and begin thrashing about. It takes some effort to regain the poise and rhythm, and discipline to feel the way my body moves.
Something about swimming that makes the shower more refreshing and the gift from a friend, a raspberry bath, more fragrant. Something about swimming that makes the steps to work a little lighter, and the work clothes softer. Something about swimming that makes the diet coke taste more delicious and no less sinful. Something about swimming that makes the team meeting later—
what meeting?
I’m no professional swimmer. The retirees at the community pool possibly surge past me. They wait each morning outside the gates at a quarter past six. I can also relate of at least one avid swimmer who camped out in the toilet overnight to await dawn, so there’s commitment for you. And the involvement of the police. But as I do my first kick off from the wall and take my gulp of air, something about the feel of water, blurry blue lines on the floor; the lap ahead, makes me feel the life of --life.
As a swimmer friend once told me, walking and running come naturally to us since we are trained the moment we can from birth. We stride, sprint and stroll upright until death or unless pre-maturely incapacitated. But in water, it’s an education of a whole new world! We un-breathe or we die; our equilibrium goes awry; the pressure startles us into floating or sinking, and goggles irritate us more than our eye glasses or contact lenses. We don’t even have an operation like “lasik” to remove the ciliary muscles in our human eyes. In fact, my mom often randomly quotes the Chinese proverb that “water is much more feared than mountain.” This is the nature of water that makes the swim a form of conquer.
Comparable to life, we want to do more than survive. We want to succeed in it. Not just drift along where currents bring us, but be able to swim against the tide, or allow its strength to push us forward. We learn the breast-stroke, butterfly, frontcrawl. And when wanting the best of both worlds, we do the backstroke. This morning, I’m doing more frontcrawl than the other styles. There are moments when I forget I am swimming, and think about the day’s commitments, and all the movements become mechanical. But with a distracting splash from the next swimmer, I lose my momentum and begin thrashing about. It takes some effort to regain the poise and rhythm, and discipline to feel the way my body moves.
Something about swimming that makes the shower more refreshing and the gift from a friend, a raspberry bath, more fragrant. Something about swimming that makes the steps to work a little lighter, and the work clothes softer. Something about swimming that makes the diet coke taste more delicious and no less sinful. Something about swimming that makes the team meeting later—
what meeting?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
3 to eternity
because you
1. have a face i can wake up to each morning
2. respect people by being punctual
3. are good to my family and try in your way to get to know them.
4. can cook and don't think it's only a woman's job
5. would like me to cook for you.
6. do the housework and don't think it's only a woman's job
7. are appreciative of me when I do tasks you normally don't like to do, but dont expect it of me.
8. enjoy reading
9. recommend good books to me
10.crack jokes that make me laugh out loud
11.are not petty
12.are not afraid to cry
13.are objective
14.remember the things i like
15.will not leave me to my own devices or defences
16.are a family boy and who love your parents and brother, and it shows.
17.forgive me
18.remind me to pray
19.remind me to be grateful
20.are creative
21.make the effort in everything you do
22.are tall. and I like tall guys
23.like both chess and soccer because that way your character has been influenced by these two hobbies.
24.like to eat but are not fussy about your food
25.are a good example of being abstemious
26.are intelligent and discrete
27.are generous with your time, thoughts, person and money
28.have direction and continue to trust in the Lord to make your way straight.
29.write very well. And 'words' happen to be one of my love languages.
30.like to buy things for me and appreciate the things I buy for you.
31.are patient with my moods.
32.are appreciative of my appearance and presentation and reassure me, though it may not be the most important thing.
33.appreciate my piano-playing and encourage me in it
34.work on things I am particular about. (like not eating loudly)
35.are good with kids like your brother, and are like a brother to your friends.
36.are a disciplined person.
37.have parents that brought you up the way they did, for the person you have become to be.
38.and I met in Australia, and have precious moments there that I will keep closely to my heart.
39.are interested in Psychology, and I, social work, because it is a great talking point.
40.make contact with me several times a day to say you love me.
41.make effort in your appearance but are not vain.
42.have life priorities that I would want in my life partner
43.are someone whom i can share my problems and talk about my work with.
44.share with me about your work and knowledge
45.calm me down when I am angry
46.help me verbalise my thoughts when they are a lump of mumble jumble
47.and I have room to grow as a couple in Christ.
48.and I both want to keep dogs.
49.have parents happen to be in the fields that I am in. I believe God has well organised this.
50.and I met in Zion. Not an unlikely place and period. But the best, grace-filled place and period.
51.and I are melancholics
52.are a phlegmatic, and I a sanguine, so that with our differences, we are a nice fit.
53.do not mind taking public transport and walking. Although when tired we wished for a car (which we will get in 54.future for sure), this has made us grateful for the cheap, simple things.
55.were brought up in a middle-class family, like mine. For that, some of our life perspectives are the same.
56.are careful with your money knowing that it's the Lord's resources too.
57.have nice facial features like big eyes, sharp nose, good complexion and well-shaped lips.
58.look for the good in adverse situations
59.hate sin but love the sinner.
60.like to hold my hand and accept hugs
61.like to shop when many guys find it pointless.
62.respect my need for quiet and space.
63.take interest in my friends and knows some of their names
64.and i have mutual friends, and this number is growing.
65.have friends that i like and who like me.
66.like fixing up the christmas tree with me
67.are not fixated on physical beauty and encourage me not to as well.
68.and i can just sit and count the number of people wearing shorts, and enjoy such activity together.
69.are sensitive to my compulsions and fears.
70.and I have walked in storms before. both Literally and figuratively.
71.don't nag me too much
72.are alert even when you are tired. that to me is mental strength and discipline.
73.will rest when you are tired. that to me is discipline.
74.will watch a movie with me and don't mind it when I fall asleep in it.
75.offer to send me home.
76.meet me for lunch at my workplace whenever you can.
77.are pedantic but do not impose your expectations on others.
78.like walking through museums, like me.
79.do not enjoy gore and terror movies, like me.
80.try to mean yes when you say "yes", and no, when you say "no".
81.do not take things too seriously, or at least try not to.
82.have an opinion everytime I ask for one.
83.pronounce your words properly and are not a lazy talker except for the occasional "rapsberries" and " warps"
84.are not lazy.
85.sit through shows like "america's next top model" although you have great disdain for them. because you know I 86.watch them.
87.eat baked beans with me, and bread with peanut butter.
88.have sensible fashion sense.
89.rebuke me when you think I have gotten out of line.
90.do not think that considering nice names for his children next time is a scary activity.
91.are romantic not in the way of a dozen red roses, but more a story writer of a dozen roses.
92.consider me in the decisions that you make
93.help me in my decision making.
94.believe in learning something new everyday!
95.are confident in your strengths
96.know that you are not perfect but take comfort in knowing that you are being perfected each day.
97.are a frank person.
98.constantly return to God to please Him.
99.are nice to your female friends.
100.pursued me in exactly the way that I wanted even though it was out of your comfort zone.
101.strive to be a healthy person by "eating slowly"
102.are adept in your english language
103.are patient with my baby steps to improve and do not expect me to take quantum leaps.
104.have good taste in female bags, shoes and clothes and help me choose things.
105.are thorough in your undertakings, from jotting down schedules to planning activities to the littlest details.
106.have varied tastes in books and movies across genres and times periods.
107.you size people up on first meeting, but also gives them the benefit of doubt.
108.don't fall sick frequently, though you have the most wrenching morning cough and back/knee pains. (pregnant?)
109.do jigsaw puzzles
110.are extremely practical. Even though sometimes I am frustrated with that, I know that it's also a virtue to have.
111.help your mom with gardening, and have bought your own vegetable seeds, though I have yet to see the crops of your labour. We will get our own garden soon.
112. are not mushy and cliche.
because you
1. have a face i can wake up to each morning
2. respect people by being punctual
3. are good to my family and try in your way to get to know them.
4. can cook and don't think it's only a woman's job
5. would like me to cook for you.
6. do the housework and don't think it's only a woman's job
7. are appreciative of me when I do tasks you normally don't like to do, but dont expect it of me.
8. enjoy reading
9. recommend good books to me
10.crack jokes that make me laugh out loud
11.are not petty
12.are not afraid to cry
13.are objective
14.remember the things i like
15.will not leave me to my own devices or defences
16.are a family boy and who love your parents and brother, and it shows.
17.forgive me
18.remind me to pray
19.remind me to be grateful
20.are creative
21.make the effort in everything you do
22.are tall. and I like tall guys
23.like both chess and soccer because that way your character has been influenced by these two hobbies.
24.like to eat but are not fussy about your food
25.are a good example of being abstemious
26.are intelligent and discrete
27.are generous with your time, thoughts, person and money
28.have direction and continue to trust in the Lord to make your way straight.
29.write very well. And 'words' happen to be one of my love languages.
30.like to buy things for me and appreciate the things I buy for you.
31.are patient with my moods.
32.are appreciative of my appearance and presentation and reassure me, though it may not be the most important thing.
33.appreciate my piano-playing and encourage me in it
34.work on things I am particular about. (like not eating loudly)
35.are good with kids like your brother, and are like a brother to your friends.
36.are a disciplined person.
37.have parents that brought you up the way they did, for the person you have become to be.
38.and I met in Australia, and have precious moments there that I will keep closely to my heart.
39.are interested in Psychology, and I, social work, because it is a great talking point.
40.make contact with me several times a day to say you love me.
41.make effort in your appearance but are not vain.
42.have life priorities that I would want in my life partner
43.are someone whom i can share my problems and talk about my work with.
44.share with me about your work and knowledge
45.calm me down when I am angry
46.help me verbalise my thoughts when they are a lump of mumble jumble
47.and I have room to grow as a couple in Christ.
48.and I both want to keep dogs.
49.have parents happen to be in the fields that I am in. I believe God has well organised this.
50.and I met in Zion. Not an unlikely place and period. But the best, grace-filled place and period.
51.and I are melancholics
52.are a phlegmatic, and I a sanguine, so that with our differences, we are a nice fit.
53.do not mind taking public transport and walking. Although when tired we wished for a car (which we will get in 54.future for sure), this has made us grateful for the cheap, simple things.
55.were brought up in a middle-class family, like mine. For that, some of our life perspectives are the same.
56.are careful with your money knowing that it's the Lord's resources too.
57.have nice facial features like big eyes, sharp nose, good complexion and well-shaped lips.
58.look for the good in adverse situations
59.hate sin but love the sinner.
60.like to hold my hand and accept hugs
61.like to shop when many guys find it pointless.
62.respect my need for quiet and space.
63.take interest in my friends and knows some of their names
64.and i have mutual friends, and this number is growing.
65.have friends that i like and who like me.
66.like fixing up the christmas tree with me
67.are not fixated on physical beauty and encourage me not to as well.
68.and i can just sit and count the number of people wearing shorts, and enjoy such activity together.
69.are sensitive to my compulsions and fears.
70.and I have walked in storms before. both Literally and figuratively.
71.don't nag me too much
72.are alert even when you are tired. that to me is mental strength and discipline.
73.will rest when you are tired. that to me is discipline.
74.will watch a movie with me and don't mind it when I fall asleep in it.
75.offer to send me home.
76.meet me for lunch at my workplace whenever you can.
77.are pedantic but do not impose your expectations on others.
78.like walking through museums, like me.
79.do not enjoy gore and terror movies, like me.
80.try to mean yes when you say "yes", and no, when you say "no".
81.do not take things too seriously, or at least try not to.
82.have an opinion everytime I ask for one.
83.pronounce your words properly and are not a lazy talker except for the occasional "rapsberries" and " warps"
84.are not lazy.
85.sit through shows like "america's next top model" although you have great disdain for them. because you know I 86.watch them.
87.eat baked beans with me, and bread with peanut butter.
88.have sensible fashion sense.
89.rebuke me when you think I have gotten out of line.
90.do not think that considering nice names for his children next time is a scary activity.
91.are romantic not in the way of a dozen red roses, but more a story writer of a dozen roses.
92.consider me in the decisions that you make
93.help me in my decision making.
94.believe in learning something new everyday!
95.are confident in your strengths
96.know that you are not perfect but take comfort in knowing that you are being perfected each day.
97.are a frank person.
98.constantly return to God to please Him.
99.are nice to your female friends.
100.pursued me in exactly the way that I wanted even though it was out of your comfort zone.
101.strive to be a healthy person by "eating slowly"
102.are adept in your english language
103.are patient with my baby steps to improve and do not expect me to take quantum leaps.
104.have good taste in female bags, shoes and clothes and help me choose things.
105.are thorough in your undertakings, from jotting down schedules to planning activities to the littlest details.
106.have varied tastes in books and movies across genres and times periods.
107.you size people up on first meeting, but also gives them the benefit of doubt.
108.don't fall sick frequently, though you have the most wrenching morning cough and back/knee pains. (pregnant?)
109.do jigsaw puzzles
110.are extremely practical. Even though sometimes I am frustrated with that, I know that it's also a virtue to have.
111.help your mom with gardening, and have bought your own vegetable seeds, though I have yet to see the crops of your labour. We will get our own garden soon.
112. are not mushy and cliche.
113.have taught me what it is to be in a relationship with someone.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Why a seamstress does not suffer burnout
I am watching mother at her wheel.
And listening to her; she likes to talk.
An electrical machine, neat and quick
Basic functions- terrific.
Bobbin filler, eleven stitches, sewing light switch!
Flat bed attachment, presser foot;
accessory compartment- let’s have our toys!
Now she’s whistling
The tune of Christmas costumes.
Here’s more sequins for the good three kings,
Let the white adorn our angel!
(more sequins, dear?)
Should Joseph have a vest, or not?
“So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum, When we come.”
Here she mumbles as she measures a piece.
Only one true standard that we will keep-
That it fits you, not you fit it.
Plus-size model, or scrawny boy?
Prosperous bosom; two-scarred legs;
This silk will dress you, you will see.
The only time I see her furrowed brows,
Is when “the stitch isn’t right- come see it here.”
Yet my plain young eyes don't see the fault.
She fiddles here, unpicks the mess.
Plums the fabric and strings the thread.
One more churning and it’s done.
She looks up flushed; tired, but it is done.
She is smiling as she holds it up-
The amazing garment is true to last.
As I finger it and twirl it round,
The seamstress packs up remaining thread.
Folding unused cotton back, and switches
The machine off, it’s time for bed.
I am watching mother at her wheel.
And listening to her; she likes to talk.
An electrical machine, neat and quick
Basic functions- terrific.
Bobbin filler, eleven stitches, sewing light switch!
Flat bed attachment, presser foot;
accessory compartment- let’s have our toys!
Now she’s whistling
The tune of Christmas costumes.
Here’s more sequins for the good three kings,
Let the white adorn our angel!
(more sequins, dear?)
Should Joseph have a vest, or not?
“So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum, When we come.”
Here she mumbles as she measures a piece.
Only one true standard that we will keep-
That it fits you, not you fit it.
Plus-size model, or scrawny boy?
Prosperous bosom; two-scarred legs;
This silk will dress you, you will see.
The only time I see her furrowed brows,
Is when “the stitch isn’t right- come see it here.”
Yet my plain young eyes don't see the fault.
She fiddles here, unpicks the mess.
Plums the fabric and strings the thread.
One more churning and it’s done.
She looks up flushed; tired, but it is done.
She is smiling as she holds it up-
The amazing garment is true to last.
As I finger it and twirl it round,
The seamstress packs up remaining thread.
Folding unused cotton back, and switches
The machine off, it’s time for bed.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Sty Stallone
I am Sty Stallone and I am a terror/horror junkie. I'm not being pedantic when insisting there's a difference between the two but anyone who has taken a basic "Gothic" class would know that referring to them as the same thing may be seen as negligent or simply dismissive. It is probable that movie makers and writers know this and still they use them 'concurrently'- 'simultaneously', whatever. I don't know the difference. I mean, there's nothing wrong with using terror and horror together. In fact, looking at the technology these days, it would seem a terrible waste not to unite a heart- stopping gory female "pontianak" (Malay folklore's long-haired lady in white frock) with a mind-quickening chase scene. Combined with the sound quality to complement the beating of your own heart, it's all very admirable. About there. People have asked if I've tried writing my own scary story since taking "Gothic 227" and having watched theconsiderable assortment of horror films. But you don't require a film analyst to tell you that the protagonist has had a sad/wicked past to have retribution coming to her in a form of a weeping child in the toilet, or that weird and crazy things happen to people who have some form of obsession. Runners supernaturally losing their ability to run; the fingers of a pianist chopped off or the horror enthusiast experiencing the supernatural for himself. Also, unfortunate things can happen to good people if at the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad. But well, I do admit that I have no better ideas, being ready to be a scary spoof than a creator of scary things themselves. So perhaps then I should stop whining about the lack of great ideas these days. But here I go again, rambling on and on. I am Sty Stallone, and I am a terror/horror junkie.
What's in the name you ask? I might ask if knowing that would help you know me better. In truth it’s more than a name that identifies you. For now I am a souvenir maker; Sty Stallone, the souvenir maker whose loyalty belongs to no country. I create a product design and South Africa or Disney World goes ahead to add their own logo or form the animal using my mould. Think the bobbing head koala or an oddly shaped kite promising to fly in a different manner. For distinctive items like the boomerang or various Chinese chopsticks, I have no say for obvious reasons. You must be rather shocked, thinking that Mickey Mouse doesn't need a mould? Mickey Mouse just is... Mickey. M. But ah...it's tricky business, these tourist industries. You can't know for sure what percentage of the ten dollars you’ve paid for your brown rice soap eventually pays the provider of palm oil (which is the obvious ingredient of the soap.) You did think it'd be brown rice, didn't you? Yes, a horror technique movie makers used in the past was the cutting up of body parts to form products. The soap then rolls out with swirls of red in it before being wrapped in nice rice paper and labeled Poivre Rose. It was intended to evoke feelings of grotesque and shock. But seeing it these days would be considered gimmicky. Now you see, that's the link between scary movies and souvenir shops. Experience doesn't teach you a thing because each time you walk into the theatre or attractive shop, you still look forward to being captured by a unique, never-experienced-before experience! And like many times before, you still walk out feeling empty or empty handed, not counting your empty bucket of pop corn.
Sometimes I wish I was Frankenstein's Monster. He had purpose in life. To be a real man and to be accepted in society. Oh yes, so did Pinocchio. But Pinocchio's a wooden boy whose stature amounts to a mere shove and HE, not you, falls down. Frankenstein is the epitome of brute strength. So here I am in my workshop, working alone. I hear a creaking sound and think that the character in the movie would think it's a ghost but I won't. You are begging me for a self description because you want to visualize this scene. You may even think that I am not human myself, the narrator/character surprisingly a ghost in a few films until it became not so surprising anymore. Sorry to disappoint you but I am fully human and do not have an inch of deformity or contain the slightest speck of supernatural in my 150 pound body. That's the most I'm going to give you, I promise. Now now... it's all very inquisitive, like before trying to associate my name with something you know. As though associating ME with something you know. When you watch a scary show do you attempt to associate the wispy cold air with something you know? Or perhaps you do know it. My laughing has been described by some to be a disjointed chuckle. Please hold on if you will.
The mosquito dismembered on my fore wrist is identifiable only by the splatter of blood around its slender carcass, blood which we consider not belonging to him/her/it. I feel as though a ceremony is in order. Solemnly I walk to the bathroom, casting downward glances only to hold it in memory; the water and dettol to bring what is left of it down the sink. But not everything can be ceremonial, only when the occasion calls for it. This time, it's only because you are watching. You do like some philosophy behind all tasks and subjects of the world because that's your way of reconciling discrepancies- yes! Even when it's so jarring- that's when you say that disharmony carries its own form of reasoning. But we were talking about me and my associates. How jarring I may appear to society, the same manner is the supernatural to the perceived natural. Let me tell you one last tale before I go back to my work. It is about one day at the cinema when I realized one very perplexing truth. As I sat in the darkness waiting for Poltergeist to make his entrance (of course, the gender is open to debate), the room became more filled until every single seat was taken up. And everyone shifted with the same eagerness; their eyes glazed and reflecting the same image on the screen. I was terribly unnerved and frightened. The supernatural has in fact taken the world by storm, and Sty Stallone- terror/horror junkie, is lost.
-----
I am Sty Stallone and I am a terror/horror junkie. I'm not being pedantic when insisting there's a difference between the two but anyone who has taken a basic "Gothic" class would know that referring to them as the same thing may be seen as negligent or simply dismissive. It is probable that movie makers and writers know this and still they use them 'concurrently'- 'simultaneously', whatever. I don't know the difference. I mean, there's nothing wrong with using terror and horror together. In fact, looking at the technology these days, it would seem a terrible waste not to unite a heart- stopping gory female "pontianak" (Malay folklore's long-haired lady in white frock) with a mind-quickening chase scene. Combined with the sound quality to complement the beating of your own heart, it's all very admirable. About there. People have asked if I've tried writing my own scary story since taking "Gothic 227" and having watched theconsiderable assortment of horror films. But you don't require a film analyst to tell you that the protagonist has had a sad/wicked past to have retribution coming to her in a form of a weeping child in the toilet, or that weird and crazy things happen to people who have some form of obsession. Runners supernaturally losing their ability to run; the fingers of a pianist chopped off or the horror enthusiast experiencing the supernatural for himself. Also, unfortunate things can happen to good people if at the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad. But well, I do admit that I have no better ideas, being ready to be a scary spoof than a creator of scary things themselves. So perhaps then I should stop whining about the lack of great ideas these days. But here I go again, rambling on and on. I am Sty Stallone, and I am a terror/horror junkie.
What's in the name you ask? I might ask if knowing that would help you know me better. In truth it’s more than a name that identifies you. For now I am a souvenir maker; Sty Stallone, the souvenir maker whose loyalty belongs to no country. I create a product design and South Africa or Disney World goes ahead to add their own logo or form the animal using my mould. Think the bobbing head koala or an oddly shaped kite promising to fly in a different manner. For distinctive items like the boomerang or various Chinese chopsticks, I have no say for obvious reasons. You must be rather shocked, thinking that Mickey Mouse doesn't need a mould? Mickey Mouse just is... Mickey. M. But ah...it's tricky business, these tourist industries. You can't know for sure what percentage of the ten dollars you’ve paid for your brown rice soap eventually pays the provider of palm oil (which is the obvious ingredient of the soap.) You did think it'd be brown rice, didn't you? Yes, a horror technique movie makers used in the past was the cutting up of body parts to form products. The soap then rolls out with swirls of red in it before being wrapped in nice rice paper and labeled Poivre Rose. It was intended to evoke feelings of grotesque and shock. But seeing it these days would be considered gimmicky. Now you see, that's the link between scary movies and souvenir shops. Experience doesn't teach you a thing because each time you walk into the theatre or attractive shop, you still look forward to being captured by a unique, never-experienced-before experience! And like many times before, you still walk out feeling empty or empty handed, not counting your empty bucket of pop corn.
Sometimes I wish I was Frankenstein's Monster. He had purpose in life. To be a real man and to be accepted in society. Oh yes, so did Pinocchio. But Pinocchio's a wooden boy whose stature amounts to a mere shove and HE, not you, falls down. Frankenstein is the epitome of brute strength. So here I am in my workshop, working alone. I hear a creaking sound and think that the character in the movie would think it's a ghost but I won't. You are begging me for a self description because you want to visualize this scene. You may even think that I am not human myself, the narrator/character surprisingly a ghost in a few films until it became not so surprising anymore. Sorry to disappoint you but I am fully human and do not have an inch of deformity or contain the slightest speck of supernatural in my 150 pound body. That's the most I'm going to give you, I promise. Now now... it's all very inquisitive, like before trying to associate my name with something you know. As though associating ME with something you know. When you watch a scary show do you attempt to associate the wispy cold air with something you know? Or perhaps you do know it. My laughing has been described by some to be a disjointed chuckle. Please hold on if you will.
The mosquito dismembered on my fore wrist is identifiable only by the splatter of blood around its slender carcass, blood which we consider not belonging to him/her/it. I feel as though a ceremony is in order. Solemnly I walk to the bathroom, casting downward glances only to hold it in memory; the water and dettol to bring what is left of it down the sink. But not everything can be ceremonial, only when the occasion calls for it. This time, it's only because you are watching. You do like some philosophy behind all tasks and subjects of the world because that's your way of reconciling discrepancies- yes! Even when it's so jarring- that's when you say that disharmony carries its own form of reasoning. But we were talking about me and my associates. How jarring I may appear to society, the same manner is the supernatural to the perceived natural. Let me tell you one last tale before I go back to my work. It is about one day at the cinema when I realized one very perplexing truth. As I sat in the darkness waiting for Poltergeist to make his entrance (of course, the gender is open to debate), the room became more filled until every single seat was taken up. And everyone shifted with the same eagerness; their eyes glazed and reflecting the same image on the screen. I was terribly unnerved and frightened. The supernatural has in fact taken the world by storm, and Sty Stallone- terror/horror junkie, is lost.
-----
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Prayer in Homeground
Our heavenly Father,
Thank You for this day that You have made. Many times we have forgotten how to rejoice in it. We have forgotten to thank You for each other and the many blessings. But today we proclaim that “One generation shall praise thy works to another, and shall declare thy mighty acts" (Psalm 145:4 KJV).
I pray blessing upon my dad. Thank You for the grace upon his life. It has not been easy for him in the transitions, but we know You were there each and every moment, and You still are. To us, it seemed a pity that He moved away from ministry. We don’t know the whole picture, but You do. I pray for Your mercy upon His life. In a place where He is unbroken, I pray Lord that You will convict His heart in Your own time. I pray that we his children will love him and continue to respect Him. For this is Your command.
Father I lift up my mom to You. We know that You are pleased with for her persevering spirit and a heart for our well-being. She is successful both at home and in her work place. But even then, there are times when she feels unappreciated, sad, bitter and even insufficient. For those times I pray for your gentle touch to still her and let her rest. Let her find meaning in her labor and let her find riches in Your glory. I pray that we will be a blessing and comfort to her, as we continue to seek Your face together.
Thank You also for my sister. I have found friendship in her since the day that I was born. That I know many do not do, and I don’t intend to take this blessing for granted. Lord I thank You for all the wonderful memories we have collected while growing up. But as we “put away childish things” to feed on Your word in new life opportunities, let us support each other anew and edify with words that strengthen and heal; with words and actions that talk of love and righteousness.
Lastly, I thank you, Lord, for my brother, the youngest in the family. As such we always feel the need to protect and guide him. So often they come out like nagging and commands, when all we need to do is pray and direct him to Your word and trust YOU, the author and perfector of His faith. I thank You that Your grace is sufficient for him and that just as he comes to the crossroads of His life, You have blessed him with a new relationship. In all these things may He lift up to You in sacrifice and thanksgiving.
In Your great and powerful name,
Amen.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Praying for Your vision, Lord.
Lord, will you continually be above me- be Lord of my attitude, morals and ethics. There is no relativity with You, only righteousness and holiness. In this age where media, education and politics pervade our families and community, I know that greater are You in me than he who is in the world. Help us stand guard and firm with Your word, and I pray for Your presence to be real to us each and every day. Be among us. Thank You for Psalm 77:4 that you are also in the holy temple and You examine us and are for us. Finally Lord, I thank You that You go ahead of us and make our paths straight. You know our thoughts, and every word even before I speak them. (Psalm 139) Because of that we have a hope and a future in You. (Jeremiah 29:11)
Amen.
Lord, will you continually be above me- be Lord of my attitude, morals and ethics. There is no relativity with You, only righteousness and holiness. In this age where media, education and politics pervade our families and community, I know that greater are You in me than he who is in the world. Help us stand guard and firm with Your word, and I pray for Your presence to be real to us each and every day. Be among us. Thank You for Psalm 77:4 that you are also in the holy temple and You examine us and are for us. Finally Lord, I thank You that You go ahead of us and make our paths straight. You know our thoughts, and every word even before I speak them. (Psalm 139) Because of that we have a hope and a future in You. (Jeremiah 29:11)
Amen.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Prayer At My Workplace
My dearest heavenly Father and Lord,
I thank You for this morning at my work place. Just as it is a wet day outside, I thank You for the outpouring of Your love and mercy, and Your dew that sustains me, always fresh, always anew.
This morning I want to pray for my boss. Lord, I thank You that she is always willing to help me and others deal with difficult cases, as she is struggling with her own workload. Always there to suggest and advice, befriend and encourage, I thank You for the experiences that she herself has gone through. This has enabled her to be the person she is today. As she shares about her family, we know You will protect her husband and children, and bless them abundantly.
I thank You Lord for my colleagues. Lord, by divine appointment You have placed them each at their seat. With individual gifts and life stories to tell. I thank You that they have helped me settle in so quickly. I was new- but now I am acquainted. In this vocation where love is the key- let us not take for granted that the bigger lover himself is You. When we find that we cannot love anymore, let us come back to You. Lord I pray for good communication amongst all of us. In good times and in conflict, both.
Finally Father, I pray that You give me a good attitude, teachable, responsible, patient, kind- Lord, the fruit of the spirit remind me so; not because I have to be, but because You Jesus are living in me. When I find it hard to forgive, Lord help me remember You have died in my place and redeemed me. For that I can stand where I now am. Lord, when I remember You came for the sinners not the righteous, the poor not the rich; the weak and not the strong, it gives new meaning to where I am.
In Your son, Jesus’ precious name,
Amen.
Monday, July 03, 2006
the perfect ponytail
I was standing in the train,
waiting for my stand to come.
At first, just gazing out into the passing
View- when then a girl came into
and paused the motion; all passing notion.
Just five or six years was she,
And lovely pony tail she spot.
Reminds me of the days of young
And now still captivates, now when old (er).
It takes one length, 9 inch or so-
Width- a- 2 and tapers down
To one small curl right at the end;
And inward faces-no awkward bend.
I notice how its texture keeps,
one full shape that swings with her.
But fin’lly as I tore my eyes
and saw how far to stand I’ve come.
It’s rightly my alighting time,
I pick my lady bags the way I’m found
And leave the childish things behind.
I was standing in the train,
waiting for my stand to come.
At first, just gazing out into the passing
View- when then a girl came into
and paused the motion; all passing notion.
Just five or six years was she,
And lovely pony tail she spot.
Reminds me of the days of young
And now still captivates, now when old (er).
It takes one length, 9 inch or so-
Width- a- 2 and tapers down
To one small curl right at the end;
And inward faces-no awkward bend.
I notice how its texture keeps,
one full shape that swings with her.
But fin’lly as I tore my eyes
and saw how far to stand I’ve come.
It’s rightly my alighting time,
I pick my lady bags the way I’m found
And leave the childish things behind.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
A Peaceful Settlement
The Rosemary Bed & Breakfast is not a tourist attraction but a people attraction. They come and go in an ordinary manner; quiet, unhurried and rested. A clear sign is how one doesn’t feel compelled to sign the guest book by the reception area. But you’ll be glad if you did because it is there you find that Hugh Jackman prefers poached eggs to scrambled, and how the actress from Cider House Rules “loves waking up to the scent of freshly cut grass.” Her owners are also very ordinary people. If one could only illustrate with the bread basket and converse in terms like rye, linseed, wholemeal and sourdough; multigrain and barley loaf; the spicy fruit and cinnamon stick- we’d find that the owners are the normal crusty white loaf. Not that they aren’t made for anything great, because everyone loves the crusty white with their soup or some crumbly cheese. But compared to the people of the world like Hugh Jackman, or the young chambermaid and kitchen hand, they are a notch less aesthetic.
If “aesthetic” could be used to describe them. They don’t like being known as ‘employees’ of Rosemary only because they already see themselves her hands and feet. But unlike her owners, Eve and Leah have their own voice. Perhaps it’s because they are only seventeen and have yet to seen the world. Even the Rosemary cannot keep the aspirations of the young within her pastel walls or hydrangea hedges. Placed alongside each other with no other companions to jest with or strive (remembering that the owners are more or less very neutral parties), the relationship can either be exciting in the sense of a pillow fight, or less restful, without the pillow. Eve and Leah’s was none of this. Though not less cordial than a nod in the morning, both instinctive knew they weren’t best pals and kept out of each other’s way. It could well be that Eve is the taller brunette and Leah is a petite strawberry blonde; or that one loves running through the sprinklers in the morning, the other finds nothing more challenging than analyzing music scripts. However, as the omniscient narrator, I must tell you that these differences are mere trifles to the very stuff that makes them similar. In fact, they are very much in essence both the nutty rye.
One particular chilly morning, a time when the dew is ripe for the fairies’ collection, the girls finally came to face with each other with a little more than a perfect courtesy. It all happened when Eve stepped in for a glass of water and left the scrub brush on the floor beside the kitchen counter. Of course the story goes that she forgets to retrieve it and when stepping in a half hour later, finds Leah humming and scrubbing the stone floors. Now some of us shudder at having to sweep the floors inside with an outdoors broom, tea towels to wipe tables, or even water flask to contain milk. For Eve, it is beyond all natural order to see the bathroom bristles hit kitchen stones; she glared from the doorway at Leah, willing the scrubbing girl to look up with her gaze. And yet the unaffected girl continued humming to canon in D, dipping the scrub in the hot soapy water, washing a square of stone, dipping, sudding; not a beat amiss. In fact, she maintained so at peace in her haven that Eve, too, became distracted with her own sense of calm.
Some time passed before Leah finally finished the corner and looked up. Seeing Eve, she jolted and blushed from the intrusion.
“Sorry I hadn’t noticed you. Did you want something?
“Me? Oh no. It’s just that… well…”Eve stutters, “Oh it’s nothing.”
“Oh alright then, I was just about to ask if you had left your scrub brush here. I put it away while to wash these floors.” And moving quietly to the sink, Leah drew another brush out from below.
The Rosemary Bed & Breakfast is not a tourist attraction but a people attraction. They come and go in an ordinary manner; quiet, unhurried and rested. A clear sign is how one doesn’t feel compelled to sign the guest book by the reception area. But you’ll be glad if you did because it is there you find that Hugh Jackman prefers poached eggs to scrambled, and how the actress from Cider House Rules “loves waking up to the scent of freshly cut grass.” Her owners are also very ordinary people. If one could only illustrate with the bread basket and converse in terms like rye, linseed, wholemeal and sourdough; multigrain and barley loaf; the spicy fruit and cinnamon stick- we’d find that the owners are the normal crusty white loaf. Not that they aren’t made for anything great, because everyone loves the crusty white with their soup or some crumbly cheese. But compared to the people of the world like Hugh Jackman, or the young chambermaid and kitchen hand, they are a notch less aesthetic.
If “aesthetic” could be used to describe them. They don’t like being known as ‘employees’ of Rosemary only because they already see themselves her hands and feet. But unlike her owners, Eve and Leah have their own voice. Perhaps it’s because they are only seventeen and have yet to seen the world. Even the Rosemary cannot keep the aspirations of the young within her pastel walls or hydrangea hedges. Placed alongside each other with no other companions to jest with or strive (remembering that the owners are more or less very neutral parties), the relationship can either be exciting in the sense of a pillow fight, or less restful, without the pillow. Eve and Leah’s was none of this. Though not less cordial than a nod in the morning, both instinctive knew they weren’t best pals and kept out of each other’s way. It could well be that Eve is the taller brunette and Leah is a petite strawberry blonde; or that one loves running through the sprinklers in the morning, the other finds nothing more challenging than analyzing music scripts. However, as the omniscient narrator, I must tell you that these differences are mere trifles to the very stuff that makes them similar. In fact, they are very much in essence both the nutty rye.
One particular chilly morning, a time when the dew is ripe for the fairies’ collection, the girls finally came to face with each other with a little more than a perfect courtesy. It all happened when Eve stepped in for a glass of water and left the scrub brush on the floor beside the kitchen counter. Of course the story goes that she forgets to retrieve it and when stepping in a half hour later, finds Leah humming and scrubbing the stone floors. Now some of us shudder at having to sweep the floors inside with an outdoors broom, tea towels to wipe tables, or even water flask to contain milk. For Eve, it is beyond all natural order to see the bathroom bristles hit kitchen stones; she glared from the doorway at Leah, willing the scrubbing girl to look up with her gaze. And yet the unaffected girl continued humming to canon in D, dipping the scrub in the hot soapy water, washing a square of stone, dipping, sudding; not a beat amiss. In fact, she maintained so at peace in her haven that Eve, too, became distracted with her own sense of calm.
Some time passed before Leah finally finished the corner and looked up. Seeing Eve, she jolted and blushed from the intrusion.
“Sorry I hadn’t noticed you. Did you want something?
“Me? Oh no. It’s just that… well…”Eve stutters, “Oh it’s nothing.”
“Oh alright then, I was just about to ask if you had left your scrub brush here. I put it away while to wash these floors.” And moving quietly to the sink, Leah drew another brush out from below.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The day of the hail 24/06
On the day of the hail, I sat in a haze of smoke.
As ice beads showered
Down.
Not to be challenged,
My nicotine hit faster home-
The obvious mess felt cold and shrill;
Like shrapnels at my feet.
While possums cower,
And squirrels hid,
My garden gnomes braved and stared,
Waiting for their paint to brush off.
I watched the billowing trees,
And ground that could no longer bear this assault.
This left me puzzled and strange-
That though longing for the warmth to soothe me
It would almost be
How the hail’s cold would better suit me.
The day of hail suddenly left,
In the same way that it came.
Soon it was a mere trickle of rain;
As though there was one power struggle,
And the rain-maker lost.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Let the weak say I am strong, let the poor say I am rich, let the blind say I can see. It’s what the Lord has done in me.Micro soft words (I)
My words appear furiously on screen as I have read it on peoples’ lips. Fast and furious as only my hands and fingers can manage it. Hopefully my facial muscles can keep up.And as for my sense of sight, smell, taste, touch, I must say that they have done well by me so far. In the same way that hearing is the blind person’s grab bar to the rest of the world, mine is acute sight. Television and books depict the hands of the mute dancing gracefully in the air. Their fingers are long and slender, pale as though vulnerable and expressing more adequately than verbal speech can ever do so. My fingers are fat and stumpy. Pale, and/but pasty’s more the word. One doesn’t need beautiful fingers to talk, really. Nor to type. Nor to toss.
My words appear furiously on screen as I have read it on peoples’ lips. Fast and furious as only my hands and fingers can manage it. Hopefully my facial muscles can keep up.And as for my sense of sight, smell, taste, touch, I must say that they have done well by me so far. In the same way that hearing is the blind person’s grab bar to the rest of the world, mine is acute sight. Television and books depict the hands of the mute dancing gracefully in the air. Their fingers are long and slender, pale as though vulnerable and expressing more adequately than verbal speech can ever do so. My fingers are fat and stumpy. Pale, and/but pasty’s more the word. One doesn’t need beautiful fingers to talk, really. Nor to type. Nor to toss.
(II)
Presently I work in the back kitchen of Mac donalds. But as I toss patties and mayonnaise buns, my mind is ringing with ideas. People have difficulties getting through to me and it’s not because of the impairment. The manager’s face is contorted and I read, “IVY! We need more fillets out here! Special requests for NO MAYONAISE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” I intend to keep the job of course- I like the mechanical tossing and spreading, tossing and spreading. But I can’t help the fantastical script that plays out in my head. I get ideas all the time and everywhere, in the train, along the streets. But wow. You should see how I am when I’m making burgers. Then, I’m a true master. You can almost say that burgers sustain me.
(III)
Oh and by the way, the name is Iris, not IVY. In the event of miscommunication, there is no excuse for miscommunication. How can “I love you” become “You love me”? It’s almost as bad as washing the lettuce when you are supposed to wrap it to store. Read my lips: “Wrap” not “Wash”. Being born with the impairment, I had not been given the chance to experience the frustrations of the loss of it. I guess normality as I see it has also honed my meticulous nature. That if I may fault in anyway, let it not be because of my silent world.
Presently I work in the back kitchen of Mac donalds. But as I toss patties and mayonnaise buns, my mind is ringing with ideas. People have difficulties getting through to me and it’s not because of the impairment. The manager’s face is contorted and I read, “IVY! We need more fillets out here! Special requests for NO MAYONAISE! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” I intend to keep the job of course- I like the mechanical tossing and spreading, tossing and spreading. But I can’t help the fantastical script that plays out in my head. I get ideas all the time and everywhere, in the train, along the streets. But wow. You should see how I am when I’m making burgers. Then, I’m a true master. You can almost say that burgers sustain me.
(III)
Oh and by the way, the name is Iris, not IVY. In the event of miscommunication, there is no excuse for miscommunication. How can “I love you” become “You love me”? It’s almost as bad as washing the lettuce when you are supposed to wrap it to store. Read my lips: “Wrap” not “Wash”. Being born with the impairment, I had not been given the chance to experience the frustrations of the loss of it. I guess normality as I see it has also honed my meticulous nature. That if I may fault in anyway, let it not be because of my silent world.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The Muppets painted the ward manila
The 2nd extension-
The 2nd extension-
“There’s another one of those fitbone patients. Isn’t he already tall enough? There should be a cardboard mannequin to indicate height requirements. If you are longer than the surgical table by a toenail, you don’t qualify.”
“Ah… but isn’t he a celebrity too… what’s his name? Many famous people are doing this these days.”
“And even celebrities need an extension??!! His family has asked for 3 more weeks! To get him a longer bed.”
“Has the doctor approved?”
“Here he comes now. You can ask him.”
“So doctor grouch, regarding Big Bird’s extension…”
“Ah nurse Marie, there’s no end to this nonsense, really. We took three hours to make him longer, and they need three weeks for his bed. And look at all these feathers of his… I say no- no more extension. He’ll just have to make do with his old bed.”
Erm doctor, I just received news from Sesame Street on the Chinese channel. It seems like they’ve just received a new import of quality bird’s nest.
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