This is the worst day of the year. You left without saying goodbye.

The last dish you prepared for me was roasted chicken, with your homemade mashed potatoes arguably the best in Malaysia.

Sometimes, you added a bit more spices than usual, but I don’t mind. It only meant that you made them with bare hands. Wasn’t that so?

Only pseudo chefs would pretend to make a dish taste the same every single day. You were not like that.

I was so proud of you that I even invited my friend, Yuin Yin, to come taste your food right after her cancer treatments.

She ordered your strawberry milkshake. Did I ever told you how much she love strawberries? Even though the surgery dulled her tastebuds, she insisted to try.

And Reuben. Do you remember Reuben? He took the semester off and went to China on mission. I am sorry for him for he did not manage to see you one last time. That boy loved your sandwiches.

The same as what you did to every dish, you made his sandwiches with such dedication. I would never find better ones anywhere else in Malaysia.

How are you, Dennis? Have you boarded the plane? I am sure you miss home in U,K, Especially your little girl.

Will we see you again?

I tried out the new chefs today. They are young lads. 20-odd Malaysians sporting a baseball cap and black tee. My friend said their chickens were rough and the price was not worth it. So I carefully picked only mashed potatoes and salad.

You know what, yours are still the best of the best. At the very least, yours are homemade. You don’t buy frozen instant stuffs from the store and charge us for them.

Come back, Dennis.

I was such a diligent girl. I worked 36 hours straight on one research proposal and got a temperature. When I dragged myself to class, I did not find you where you belonged. You know how depressing that was?

Academic research is tough and lonely. But I have no complains. At least, give me a decent chef for goodness sake.

Dennis, come back!

There are some things in life you can only break once. That includes our home.

This is the route I take to mail your stuffs at the post office.

Home was so peaceful before Sri Kuala Lumpur was built. Followed by Taylors, Inti, and Metropolitan Colleges. If we knew this place will turn out the way it is now, we wouldn’t have bet our good money here.

Their only concern is the dollar sign. The more the better, while putting our lives at stake.

Uneven stone slabs. Cutting cost?

It’s one thing when you come here couple of times a week to get dinner or pay the bills.

It’s another when you’ve lived here for year, watching the place turn into a 3rd world horror throughout the 22 years of your life.

It used to be so wonderful to live in.

Who’s going to give me back my home?

And the houses here worth at least half a million these days. But at the cost of our safety and mental health.

These pictures are only possible on weekends. The roads become some jammed up on most days, it’s hard to even walk over to the stores a stone’s throw away.

My ballet teacher was also principal of the ballet school. She was Ms. Lee Lee Lan who founded Federal Academy of Ballet. Her class always performed the main item at the annual concert. I disliked her costume designs, including this one in the picture above.

I did not like the multi-layer tutu that flared out like an umbrella. The high waist made my short body shorter.

It is among my most treasured belongings today. They say you only learn to appreciate things when they’re gone. This ballet costume is so precious to me now that I cannot dance ballet anymore. The shoes I wore in this picture were soft ones I used in Grade 5. If only I could wear my Grade 6 pointe shoes. But the spine surgery changed my right foot and ankle orientation so that toughness of pointe shoes would make it unable to walk.

When I showed my childhood photos to a friend, she said I approached the wrong person. Aunties appear not to like her because she wouldn’t play with their kids or praise them. My friend does not like children.

Those of us who are able to look back, do so because there are things in our childhood worth cherishing. Although as a kid, my parents were stressed and their bad temperaments affected my emotional self, I am able to reminiscent my childhood and smile at the things with which I sought refuge. Ballet made me feel worthy.

Human life is a continual process of growth. From birth to death, we learn new skills and make milestones at every turn. I learned to feel congruent and special from dancing. While the rest of my classmates were assigned to perform more active and rapid pieces for exam, Ms. Lee always let me perform the more expressionist piece called, ‘Arts Studies’, or some other name, memory is failing me. I could shut out the audience, the pianist, the examiner, and channel my emotions into dancing. In my last and final exam, I fell down dramatically from performing the Pirouttes but still managed to score well. The English examiner commended my expression.

Ballet made me happy. But I must let go when my health failed me. Yet when there are things we can keep in the present that makes us happy, many of us choose to let them go. When we find something or someone that makes us smile from the heart, should we let it go?

Why can’t we keep what makes us happy? True happiness is so hard for some of us. Why do we have to let it go?

I don’t want to let it go. Tom in ‘Made of Honor’ doesn’t want to let Hannah go either. And he’s doing all he can, to win back his happiness. Let’s watch Made of Honor and be inspired. I am going to the Advertlets’ Special Screening on 17th June 2008 at TGV 1Utama, starting at 8:30pm. Come join us! Click here to learn how you can win 2 free tickets for this event.

Education Minister of Japan wonders if faults in the education system had caused Tomohiro Kato’s mass stabbing.

Education Minister Kisaburo Tokai said on Tuesday that he planned to consult with experts about the state of children in Japan, which has long enjoyed a reputation for its low crime.

“It made me think about whether the background of this incident may have been linked to education,” Mr Tokai said. source

And here was what happened.

Last year, I asked Dr. Chin who was our Head of ADP Department then, if I could major in Criminology. UIU has a 3-credit Criminology subject and he thought of introducing it in Segi College. Don’t know where this tendency came from, but I like considering the motivation behind our actions. I think too much sometimes, but better too much, than to regret not thinking enough when the chance is over.

Criminals are humans. Crime is a deviation from the norm. It means they are different, but still one of us. There has been a lot of study on violent crimes that support the theory of stress and maladaptive behavior. Studies on criminal minds increased since U.S. waged it’s War on Terror. Returning soldiers found themselves unable to adjust back to civilian life. There have been cases of ex-soldiers committing crimes of assault and murder before killing themselves. I received psychology news related to the study of U.S. ex-soldiers almost daily through RSS.

Now Japan is doing the same. When will Malaysia follow?

Do you remember this boy who stabbed his ex-tuition teacher’s daughter to death at 12-years-old? His adolescence was spent serving time in jail. When the boy reached 18 years of age last year, the court heard his case again, but decided to detain him indefinitely. Well, I don’t have to bring in the science. Let’s just look at Japan, how their minister is handling children and youth matters. This country raped Asia in World War 2. Our textbooks painted them as barbaric and torturous. Yet how far they have gone since.

Picture from Times Online

It was like yesterday. A group of Malay ladies I didn’t know went jogging and dropped by to say hello. Their leader whose name I don’t remember brought out news clippings of me. They came offering to help raise funds for my surgery.

…..

From reading my story in the newspaper, a 15-year-old student of SMK Assunta took a bulk of Heart4Hope t-shirts and accessories from me. She sold them to her schoolmates in between lessons. I don’t remember their names, but our first meeting and her innocence remains imprinted in my heart.

….

Two weeks ago, Ken spotted medical students in U.K. wearing my Heart4Hope tees. They used to study at IMU, which was strange. I remember now. It was Shirlyn, my childhood friend, who sold them at her university. Shirlyn and her mom who once gave me tuition, offered to help after reading about me in the newspaper. I was surprised to see them turning up after so long. They took my t-shirts by consignments.

…………..

Elaine Chew waited for me at McDonalds, Subang Parade. She looked bright and excited, Elaine was studying law in U.K. After reading my story, she came forth to help me out, and summer vacation was the best time for that. She bought my t-shirts upfront and sold them to her university friends in U.K. Last I saw her, Elaine came back to Malaysia because her maid ran away from her family home.

…..

Relatively speaking, my college is built next to the SS13 Buddhist Temple. It reminds me of the Sunday Charity Bazaar whenever mom fetches me to class. Members of the USJ.COM.MY forum helped sell Heart4Hope t-shirts and raised funds for me there. Going to college every morning also reminds me to be thankful when I remember them, people who lived in the same city I barely knew.

………….

One day in July 2006, a particular message popped up among the sea of e-mails I received. It came from an advertising firm in K.L. informing me that two checks amounting to RM55,000 have been banked-in, but did not want to be named for the contribution. I scheduled for surgery because of them.

………………

Lydia Gan texted me her birthday wish last night. Studying pharmacy far away has not made her forget. My primary schoolmate. By selling my Heart4Hope products at her university, Lydia raised many thousands with her fervent faith in God Her parents drove to my house and picked up the t-shirts one bulk after another. I wish to show you how frail and timid Lydia really was and still is today.

……………

These are just a few of the many, many, many people who helped raise funds for my surgery in 2006. All thanks to the print media. I have lost count on the number of times I have been featured. People from all corners of Malaysia sent me e-mails, postal letters and cards, and wrote me checks of various amounts. Kids as young as four to folks in their 70s and 80s supported my cause silently. Journalists who wrote my story bought my products too.

………………..

I may not have the chance to see these people again. But I believe they have continued to observe me, through the news, through my blog, and perhaps in the background of organizations I belong to. Life is getting faster each day. Not everyone would slow down to walk along someone slower than them. But these people slowed down for me. Most of them I don’t even know or remember.

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I have been writing a column in The Malay Mail every Thursday, named ’Stepping Stones’. It is under the heading ’BlogSpot’ which contain topics on blogging. I write about my blogging activities and how they have formed an integral part of my life. But the line between blogging and real life might turn blur along the way. When writing my previous articles, I have played close attention when mentioning people who helped me out in the past, to avoid the mistake of crediting bloggers exclusively, whether direct or indirectly. It is too easy to cross the line, as much of my writing activities take place on my blog. This can create an illusion that paints my cause as one centered around blogging.

………..

Cheryl Leong once said that I am popular but my popularity is unique. That is when comparing my blog to those by others deemed famous by the blogging community. I have been keeping to myself, preferring to maintain an active academic life, in the general public both local and foreign (outside the blogosphere), and also the NF community. I am avoiding cliques.

The experience of raising funds for surgery built my character and taught me a lot. My mind floats to cloud nine and imagine glamorous things from time to time. But my experiences pull me back down and humble. I am where I am today, because of people like the ones mentioned above, strangers and friends who went on hands and knees in supporting me. They went to lengths that I couldn’t go myself.

This is what I remember each time I picked up a Psychology text. I am studying with an aim because these people gave me the chance. So when you read my writings in the newspaper, please remember they have been edited. I feel grateful for the help I received from the general public, and this gratitude has become the foundation of my life.

Someone uploaded better photos on Facebook. Leighton is going to Fayette in Summer while we burn our ass away. He’ll come back again, but only to coordinate the importation of other American lecturers. We will miss you, Mr. L.

At the bus stop this afternoon, a boy who sat beside me resembled a bit of John Ling. He also reminded me of young Joon Suh in Autumn Tale.

Isn’t it wonderful to remain that age forever? Growing up is so harsh.

Someone tells me that all men are bad. I didn’t want to believe her and thought her cynical. Human beings are inherently good, no?

Lately, my perception of men has began to change. Is he really nice? What’s he thinking behind that smile? What does he want?

Grace Chan’s experience working in nightclubs is nothing new. We often hear and talk about such things. But KNOWING and BELIEVING are different. As teenagers, you burst into ticklish giggles as you joke about men being sexual, mommy tells you to be careful and not to go out late, you develop self-confidence believing all men are socially integrated and won’t dare violate your boundaries. You dream of a perfect family with daddy the strong, protective figure. Along the way, you being meek and gentle, start needing help from men who are physically stronger. They seem kind and sincere. You being kind and sincere yourself, believe men feel the same when they act nice and sincere. And that’s what you know from your point-of-view.

Then, you come to a stage in life where WHAM, those stuffs that used to tickle a funny bone are not so funny anymore. Just the thought of them makes you feel violated as a woman. You don’t want to be seen as an item. You are a person worth respecting. Weren’t all men inherently good? You still want to believe so. Only now when they start being all nice and sweet, your defenses go up, your throat tightens.

Men might say their sexual instincts would be under control if women cover up. But you know, we girls wear with confidence, to feel good about ourselves, to have a positive self-image.

But not everyone thinks the same. Sometimes, I don’t know whether to trust or distrust. Ujen said he doesn’t want to be taken advantage of. Maybe I know what he means. If men can think and behave the way I described, women too. Yet I still don’t want to believe it’s true. Are men naturally adulterous?

That boy and I rode and sat together on the same bus, his demeanor a little guarded. He seemed the quiet type. Reminded me of Tremayne, Wei Jie, Kenneth, Zhen Yang… I miss them. I miss the times we spent together when I was 15, when boys were nice because mommy taught so..

I’m a late bloomer. Lately, men seem extra nice. So scary.

That’s why I like hanging out with Ben-Ben. So comfortable and homely. But he turned around and call me dependent. Seesh. He thinks all men are inherently good so I should hang out more with others.

P/S: I don’t support feminism either.

Today is the wedding of my cellgroup leader, Stephen, and his assistant, Foong Ling. Uur friendship has developed to that of brothers and sisters. I think they are more like elder siblings to me than I am a sister to them. They also supported my 2006 surgery by personally selling my t-shirts to co-workers and friends.

I admire their leadership qualities and their sincere love for others. Some people can only try to be caring, but Stephen and Foong Ling don’t have to go out of their way to show they care. Perhaps being eldest in their families cultivated an innate caring attitude in them.

May they verily abide in the will of God, in sickness and in health, till death do them part.

I’m feeling better now. Paid Yewin’s dad a visit and we chat for two hours. Last I saw him in December 2006 he told me to go over for tea sometime. But no one was home the few times I dropped by on my way to the park. Other times I wanted but couldn’t find a reason to go.

I didn’t know how to face him. Uncle Fong was awarded a Datukship for his past involvement in the Malaysian Navy. That describes him as a remarkable man. But despite him being friendly and approachable, I forget he’s not a politician, and that he doesn’t bite.

He’s my friend’s father and also my friend.

Now since Yewin’s back after completing clinical studies in New Zealand, I feel more confident visiting Uncle even when Yewin is in Uni. I know it’s weird. But I am more comfortable with Yewin around. It makes me feel more like a friend.

I want to seen as a friend, not just a neighbor or a fellow citizen. I don’t want to be thought as having hidden agendas.

Of course, this is just me and my insecurities.

Went through my old blog last night reading some old entries. I realized that Yewin’s not so much a stranger although sometimes I feel he is. He was there in 2001. He was there when I was diagnosed. He was there when I had the first spine surgery. It is as if I knew him very well, but not quite either. What a strange feeling.

The saying goes like this:- The more you fret and worry, the sooner you age. Steven became Grumpy the dwarf when his snowboard got stolen at Mammoth Mountain on 22nd December 2007.

Steven is an honest person. He does not hide his feelings. Hence, Yvonne was near terrified of that ugly scowl on his face and nose pointed in the air, at it’s worst on 30th December 2007 when his friends were up snowboarding at Big Bear without him.

I even have photo evidence to show what bitter feelings can do to you in one week!

Steven looked like this before the board got stolen.

On New Year’s day, he morphed into a fuddy-duddy aftermath. As if he lost 30 years to a missing snowboard, man. No joke. No photoshop effects.