Standing Guards
Every Monday morning is garbage collection day at the suburb of Leeming. The head of the household ( ie. Men ) will diligently push out the two garbage bins to standby for the garbage troopers. The bin with the yellow lid is for recyclable waste while the green bin is for "harmful" waste such as the nappies of Chloe. The first truck came by in the morning was the yellow truck and thus explain all the yellow bins now standing with their yellow hats turned down . Another truck will come by later in the afternoon to clear the green bins. The head of the family will finish the job by pushing both bins into the garage when they return home from work in the evening. This rhythm repeats like clockwork at the start of every week.
Wakey wakey brother Jayden
Is 8am Monday morning and time for Jayden to go to play school. Jayden is going to ask Sister Andrea at the playschool to do painting. Jayden has a spider painted on his hand by Aunty Wendy.
Like Jayden's puppy Sandy, Sister Chloe is still sound asleep af
ter waking up at 2am this early morning to play. Mommy was to determined to convince Chloe that it was night time when everyone was supposed to be in bed. Princess Chloe unwillingly conceded but had Mommy camp by her side the whole night to play red Indians.
Princess Chloe
Dear all, I am Princess Chloe from Perth. My hobby is sleeping and watching people. I like to stare at lights. I have a brother and his name is Jayden. He is always running around the house and likes to hug me real tight.
Howdy this is JD from the Wiggles Band !
Hello everyone, I am the first man to grace my Aunty Wendy's blog, full front page and headline.
Two weeks ago, my parents brought a new baby into my house. My mommy said her name is Chloe. She does not play with me and she sleeps the whole day. All mommy does is to carry her and feed her. Daddy was also spending some time with her. I tried very hard to win back my popularity vote. Just when I thought I have succeeded, here came another person in the house.
Her name is Aunty Wendy. She came from Kuala Lumpur to our house in Perth yesterday afternoon while I was watching the Wiggles. Mummy said Aunty Wendy will sleep on my starry night bed and share my toys. Though I don't quite like Aunty Wendy because she stole my parent's attention from me, I like the police toyset that she brought me. I like the helicopter and the police car in the toyset. The belly of the helicopter has a string with a hook attached that I can use it to perform rescue action for my toy.
Aunty Wendy read me stories before I slept. While Mommy was busy with my sister, I showed Aunty Wendy my Mummy's food cabinet and asked her to make me a cup of hot chocolate. I asked Aunty Wendy if I can have bread with honey. I also taught her how to sing the Wriggle songs.
Optimism is a choice
Recently there is a video being circulated around the blogasphere about a mob that occured at a local university campus. The video painted a disturbing picture of a group of Malay students at our local UPM harassing a few Chinese boys. It was not clear to me what started the commotion but I figured that the Chinese boys were probably staging a peaceful protest. The Chinese boys were eventually led away by the security guards. The video triggered many angry comments about the oppression of the Chinese in this country.
I am a Chinese but I saw more from the video. I certainly do not condorn the behaviour of the Malay boys in the video. But I chose to embrace a bigger picture. I saw in the video the courage amongst the youth of our generation to take a stand by staging a peaceful demonstration. I applauded how the Chinese boys reframed from fighting back despite being threatened. I also chose to denounce sweeping allegation that the behavour of the Malay students in the video is a fair representation of our community at large.It is undeniable that some of our national policies are hugely biased towards the Malay race. .
In my picture there are more people in my life, outside the four corners of the video screen. If not because of Kak Nor, my backache will continue to haunt me. It was Kak Aini who takes diligent care of my home and my neglected plants. Hasan is one of my greatest supporters who cheers me on when I am down and kicks me when I in my victim mode. Azlin is one of the coolest and no-nonsense babes in town who never allowes me to indulge in self-doubt about my artistic progress. Then there is Yunus, the nerdy and yet talented pavement engineering expert who is busy inspecting airports to get them ready for the new Boeing A380. There is Rosalind who is a volunteer in AWAM who unconditionally gives her heart and soul to everyone who needs help. There is Zak the young girl whom wants to be a business woman one day. The list goes on. The perspectives are many.
While many were angered by our national policies, I chose to see beyong our races. Call me naive, call me innocent. To be born as a Malaysian is not my choice, but the way of living as a Malaysian is a choice of mine. I could live as a dejected victimized Chinese of the country, or I chose the mindset of a Malaysian citizen who does whatever I could in however small way to contribute to my community.
Quoting Gandhi's famous saying "An eye for an eye, the whole world goes blind". Being an optimist is a choice. Quite frankly it is the only way to progress because optimisim nurtures unity and the courage to make a difference. Pessimism on the other hand only fuels the wheel of self-fulfilling prophecy.
Click here to view the video at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndYvb7GvLDk
Don't try too hard
Nobody believes I will ever say this. This is not a joke and I mean it. When it is something that you have been trying really hard for many times, and it still falls apart, chances are you on the wrong path.
The more you try, the more anxious you become, the less willing you are going to stop and re-examine the approach, the more certain that you are going to fail. Don't believe me - have you ever spent 2 hours looking for a place circling around the blocks and still refusing to ask passers-by ? The morale of the story - don't try too hard.
I wish I have known this earlier- the best solution is always the simplest one. So when you know it is going to be a tough journey, don't even start until you find a simpler approach . Life can be much more fun this way.
Make Peace , No War
In war, the crying is not from the enemies in fear
They were the cries of sisters, daughters and mothers in despair
In war, the corpse are not of the enemies
They were the dead bodies of brothers, sons and fathers that we were yet to know
In war, the ruins are not the punishments that the enemies deserve
They were the culture and history of neighbours that we were yet to appreciate
In war, no one is ever a winner
Everyone,Everyone, Everyone
is a loser.My heart goes to the people of Lebanon whose country is again used as a battleground. I hope for the soldiers, may they be Israeli, Syrian, Palestinian, Lebanese, Americans or even more so for Malaysians, to return home soon.
Celebrating the Differences in us
Fitting in, or the difficulty of it, has been a struggle for many. Likewise for me, it has been a long struggle. I was looking in vain for like-minded people that share my passion, my views and my stand in life. I traveled the globe, from cities to cities, hopefully to find a community that I could fit in. The further I went, the more isolated I felt. So I came home. That was 10 years ago. But being extremely conscious that I am very different from many others, I chose corporate career as my camouflage.
One day I decided that it was futile to continue denying the fact that I am different. I might as well come to term with it. Suddenly it was like a cell wall dissolving away magically in front of my eyes. I began to notice the differences in people around me. Many of them have visionary views and talents that I never knew exist in Malaysians. Unlike me, they did not try to hide their uniqueness. Away from the limelight, assuming the roles of artists, writers, volunteer workers, they work quietly on their true calling. Suddenly I realize these people have always been there. It was me whose eyes have been looking away from them.
I learnt that fitting in is an internal process that comes from first stop resisting the person we are. Our heart speaks to us all the time but unless we appreciate and believe in ourselves, we will not hear the callings of our heart.
To my cousin
Eu Qiu who is starting her journey as a Malaysian designer in the commercial art world of Chicago, I wish her all the best, and all the courage for pursuing what she believes in.
The picture in the blog is one of her work. I do not necessarily agree we the mood the work, but I applaud her in the clever use of photography, graphics and perspectives.
The Two sides of a coin
This morning I saw on BCC news that Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Tun Razak bestowed `Pingat Jasa Malaysia' (PJM) to British soldiers who served in Malaya and Borneo during the 60s helping to fight the communists. The award ceremony was held in London and attended by the now silver-haired veterans who apparently are still able to speak a few words of Bahasa, though some of them pronounced pingat as "pin-gut". They even have a
club. Satay was served at the banquet. Peeping through the eyes of the cameraman I was disappointed to note that pink air bandung was not offered in the beverage menu.
Pleased that we recognized the contribution of foreign soldiers, I typed an sms to both parents to share the news with them.
Me: "
Is nice to hear that Malaysian government is giving “pingat” ( medals ) to ex British Veterans who helped fought the communist during the Malayan days"
And here are the response from my Mom who was in her office and Dad who was at home at the time of the sms.
Dad: "
Cos the terror dictator [is appreciating the veterans for being] anti Chinese was topped "
Mom: "
Even better is Pak Lah announced last night the withdrawal of book published by a local university that misrepresent racial relationship and is seriously biased against Chinese and DAP. Wise of him."
Well, one sms, two different responses. One pessimist and the other optimist. Says who that couple must think alike. Yes, these are my dearest parents.
When the time stood still
There is no fever like the World Cup fever when even the time stood still, in the nerve wrentching and nail biting match between the Argentinian and the German.
Last night the villagers of Kampong Kerinchi travelled on foot, by cars and scooters to congregate in front of the TV screen in the neighbourhood mamak stall. When the Argentinian Gouchos scored their first goal, thundering cheers shook the whole neighbourhood. While the crowd held their breadth for the German's unwavering defence against the Gouchos' ferocious attack; late comers returning work from their night shift, silenced their motorbike engine from afar to join the rest of the crowd quietly from the back.
The moment when Germany equalized Argentina with a goal at the 83th minute, it was the beginning of a classic Shakesperean tragedy. In the clash of two titans, only one lives. The crowd was torn. The fate lied now in God's hand. All the crowd could do was to pray. The extra time felt like eternity and only the brave ones looked on.
Argentina fell to the sword of the German with a 2-4 in a penalty shoot-out, giving permission to the German to advance closer into the Final. But the Argentinian fought a brave fight. They might have lost their chance to the World Cup trophy, the news is out now that Argentina is back. They will be back again, this time to claim the cup. Don't cry for me, Argentina.
