His mother suffered a great deal in life only to end up crippled on a bed. This made him loose faith in his creator, the only thing that mattered to him was taken away from him. “How can there be a god so cruel?”. And so he says, “ I wish that her misery would just end”. He believed that her destiny was one filled with misery.
There is this special gift we have in us, the power to change the world. We human beings are great, we have magic in us that can touch the hearts of others. Just because someone is in a comma, or unconscious on their death bed- doesn’t mean that they are not contributing to the world. Everyone has a purpose here on earth, and the earthly sufferings might just be worth the joy and change that they bring through the process.
I’ve seen these bed ridden matured people lying on their beds- completely depend on their caretakers. Some of them stare straight into their children’s eyes, without recognizing their own flesh and blood. Tubes running through their mouths, rashes on their skin… “Why my mother he asks”.
As a stranger looking from a window, I see the people that live around her. I see the caretakers that care to all of her needs. I see the smile on their face, the love in their touch and the compassion that they have in them.
May it be that the purpose of her suffering is to change the lives of her caretakers?? May it be that the reason for her to be lying on that bed is to make her son a stronger person? To make bystanders think of their own mother???
No life on this earth is useless. People make changes, wherever they are. A smile on a face may make a world of a difference in a stranger’s life. The journey we take is one to be celebrated for all the joy, not to be mourned for all the sorrows.
I believe that our destiny changes every second we live, because human beings are ever evolving. We are called beings- because we are being mad each moment. We are ever evolving, and our destiny changes along with our thought; we are great- we shall be what we wish to be.
Our destiny is not made by chance, or some luminous man with a scripture. It is a matter of our choices in life. We can’t just wait for our destiny to happen, we live our destiny. It does not exist a second beyond NOW.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Who is Mautik Hani?
Do we care?
This is who she is not:
She is not a 'statistic.'
She is not an ‘isolated incident’.
Mautik Hani was a woman.
She was a daughter; she was someone’s friend.
Somebody called her ‘my neighbour’; another called her ‘my sister’.
Mautik Hani had dreams to chase;
questions to ask; memories to share.
There were things that made her sad;
and there were things that made her laugh.
She had feelings; she had ideas; and she had gifts to share
Her body could be flooded with pain, or pierced with joy.
She carried burdens, and somewhere, she bore hope.
Mautik Hani was a person.
No different from you,
No different from me.
We asked her in.
And then we let her die.
~
Bruised. Beaten. Her bones exposed.
The smell of rotting flesh permeated the air.
Bound. Gagged. Unconscious.
Her body weary; attacked; abused.
She slipped away from consciousness.
As did we.
~
In the past two years, Tenaganita has handled 265 cases of domestic workers who’ve been beaten, raped, deprived of wages, harassed, violated, kept in isolation, tortured and abused. While we’ve been able to get some compensation for cases of unpaid wages, not a single case of violence or abuse has gone to court or been brought to justice.
Police investigations are sluggish, court systems inaccessible, and processes drag on endlessly. Often, the victims drop the cases out of weariness, and go home as the final tethers of hope snap. Some wait persistently, stuck in the hole of trauma, each passing day taking away with it possibilities of justice.
We see the numbers grow, we watch the statistics swell, and we close our eyes as the perpetrators walk away.
The stories of these women are horrific;
Sodomised.
Scalded.
Lacerations on the vagina.
Forced to eat cockroaches.
Mouth stuffed with chilies.
Drowned.
Burned.
Face attacked with a fish scraper.
Raped.
These stories are real. These women are real. Each one is testament to the reality we’ve created around us.
We keep these women unseen and unheard, invisible from the world. They are present only when we want them to work for us, and yet we won’t even recognize what they do as ‘work’.
We are so afraid they’ll run away; we convince ourselves they’ll pick up ‘diseases’ and infect us. We tell ourselves that we’re just protecting our families. We quietly feel superior to them. We don’t let them speak to the neighbours. We worry when they have friends. We feel their work is simple, and yet we don’t do it ourselves. We throw a fit when we need to work on weekends, yet we won’t even grant them a day off. We expect pay raises, and cluck our tongues in shock when they ask for it. We hear about ‘a maid who was abused’ and quickly share the story about ‘the maid who stole from her employer’. We look at the way our friends treat them, convince ourselves that ‘we’re not like that’ and yet we stay silent about it.
This is not a generic ‘we’. It’s a ‘we’ made up of you, of me, of your sister, your friend, your husband, your wife, your boss, your neighbour, your father, your teacher — every person in this country is contained in that ‘we’. Make no mistake of this; we let this happen.
We let this happen because we’ve ignored the thousands of signs that have led to this point. Signs contained in domestic workers whose wages were never paid, who’ve been kept in isolation, who’ve been made to work every day of their lives, who’ve been slapped, who’ve been burned, who’ve been put down. Do a thousand domestic workers need to die before we decide it is enough? Or have we removed ourselves so far from our conscience that this becomes something we merely wince at but stay silent about?
Our actions have harmed these women so severely.
But so have our inactions.
Silence has a way of legitimizing violence, and our deafening silence when faced with the realities of domestic workers in our country has done exactly that.
Mautik Hani died at 36 years old from the beatings of her employers.
Mautik Hani also died because we brushed off each case that came before her as an ‘isolated incident’.
We saw the signs, we closed our eyes, and we let her die.
by Katrina Jorene Maliamauv, 26th October 2009.
This is who she is not:
She is not a 'statistic.'
She is not an ‘isolated incident’.
Mautik Hani was a woman.
She was a daughter; she was someone’s friend.
Somebody called her ‘my neighbour’; another called her ‘my sister’.
Mautik Hani had dreams to chase;
questions to ask; memories to share.
There were things that made her sad;
and there were things that made her laugh.
She had feelings; she had ideas; and she had gifts to share
Her body could be flooded with pain, or pierced with joy.
She carried burdens, and somewhere, she bore hope.
Mautik Hani was a person.
No different from you,
No different from me.
We asked her in.
And then we let her die.
~
Bruised. Beaten. Her bones exposed.
The smell of rotting flesh permeated the air.
Bound. Gagged. Unconscious.
Her body weary; attacked; abused.
She slipped away from consciousness.
As did we.
~
In the past two years, Tenaganita has handled 265 cases of domestic workers who’ve been beaten, raped, deprived of wages, harassed, violated, kept in isolation, tortured and abused. While we’ve been able to get some compensation for cases of unpaid wages, not a single case of violence or abuse has gone to court or been brought to justice.
Police investigations are sluggish, court systems inaccessible, and processes drag on endlessly. Often, the victims drop the cases out of weariness, and go home as the final tethers of hope snap. Some wait persistently, stuck in the hole of trauma, each passing day taking away with it possibilities of justice.
We see the numbers grow, we watch the statistics swell, and we close our eyes as the perpetrators walk away.
The stories of these women are horrific;
Sodomised.
Scalded.
Lacerations on the vagina.
Forced to eat cockroaches.
Mouth stuffed with chilies.
Drowned.
Burned.
Face attacked with a fish scraper.
Raped.
These stories are real. These women are real. Each one is testament to the reality we’ve created around us.
We keep these women unseen and unheard, invisible from the world. They are present only when we want them to work for us, and yet we won’t even recognize what they do as ‘work’.
We are so afraid they’ll run away; we convince ourselves they’ll pick up ‘diseases’ and infect us. We tell ourselves that we’re just protecting our families. We quietly feel superior to them. We don’t let them speak to the neighbours. We worry when they have friends. We feel their work is simple, and yet we don’t do it ourselves. We throw a fit when we need to work on weekends, yet we won’t even grant them a day off. We expect pay raises, and cluck our tongues in shock when they ask for it. We hear about ‘a maid who was abused’ and quickly share the story about ‘the maid who stole from her employer’. We look at the way our friends treat them, convince ourselves that ‘we’re not like that’ and yet we stay silent about it.
This is not a generic ‘we’. It’s a ‘we’ made up of you, of me, of your sister, your friend, your husband, your wife, your boss, your neighbour, your father, your teacher — every person in this country is contained in that ‘we’. Make no mistake of this; we let this happen.
We let this happen because we’ve ignored the thousands of signs that have led to this point. Signs contained in domestic workers whose wages were never paid, who’ve been kept in isolation, who’ve been made to work every day of their lives, who’ve been slapped, who’ve been burned, who’ve been put down. Do a thousand domestic workers need to die before we decide it is enough? Or have we removed ourselves so far from our conscience that this becomes something we merely wince at but stay silent about?
Our actions have harmed these women so severely.
But so have our inactions.
Silence has a way of legitimizing violence, and our deafening silence when faced with the realities of domestic workers in our country has done exactly that.
Mautik Hani died at 36 years old from the beatings of her employers.
Mautik Hani also died because we brushed off each case that came before her as an ‘isolated incident’.
We saw the signs, we closed our eyes, and we let her die.
by Katrina Jorene Maliamauv, 26th October 2009.
What a friend they found in him
Remember Finardo G Cabilao that was brutally murdered, tortured, found sprawled in a pool of blood just like a butchered animal in a pasar malam, with severe head injuries due to repeated hitting with a blunt object by several assaulters??
I speak of him as though he was a good friend. Our paths have never crossed in this lifetime, but I trust the words of the thousands of people whose hearts he has touched, and who speak ever so fondly of this great man.
Finardo Cabilao was a diplomat from Philippines, assigned to Malaysia with an important task at hand; to stop human trafficking.
As a fully qualified social worker, Cabilo headed counseling and many other social services for countless Filipino laborers working overseas, especially those who have fallen trap into slavery gangs in Malaysia. He, a 49 year old petite man, never took fear or hesitated to join the raids and rescue operations in scattered nightspots all over East Malaysia in look for the culprits of this nasty business that thrive on women and children.
Cabilao was, by all accounts, a dedicated public servant and a tireless defender of his fellow-Filipinos who were in trouble. He was constantly risking his own safety or his status as a diplomat to help Filipinos who were sold as meat to brothels, with barely any hope for redemption. Cabilo’s embrace was described by the victims as being a sanctuary from their tormentors. Sitting next to him, one would never guess that upon the shoulders of that frail man- rests the salvation of many trafficked victims.
Cabilo put his life on the line, knowing that he was messing with some of the biggest tycoons who were making money off these trafficked victims. However, after “in-depth investigations”, Inspector-General of Police Tan Sri Musa Hassan said there was NO link between the Cabilo murder and human trafficking syndicates.
How does one rule out ALL possibiliies that the Cabilo, the Head of the social welfare department of Philippines Embassy had NOTHING to do with the fact that he was fighting against human trafficking??
Well, the authorities seem to have a perfectly reasonable and practical answer… “probably, the motive of the murder had to do with a homosexual relationship” said Musa.
Wow, who would have reckoned huh? After years of fearless fighting against some of the biggest gangsters in Malaysia, and after receiving several work-related death threats, he goes and gets himself butchered by a man that he was supposedly having a homosexual relationship with. Not only did he visit a sex worker, it was concluded that the motive of the murder was because the suspect was not paid for his service."
So here we have, a respectable 49 year old man who had devoted his life to fight against the trafficking of people, not to mention working in an embassy that has a reputation of paying their staff handsomely, married to a beautiful woman – murdered for not paying a male sex worker his worth.
According to The Star online, September 5th 2009- "Investigations are still ongoing to make a stronger case, including checking his DNA before sending it to the Attorney-General’s Chambers" (Musa, Sep 2009).
It seems to be that the purpose of the investigation was not to find enough evidence to rule out various motives to the murder. Rather, it is to find enough evidence to prove a preconceived motive of the murder.
Well, its just part of history repeating itself I guess. When there is a lack of evidence and the public is watching, let the gays get the blame for it!
As thousands of Philippians and victims of trafficking pine for the loss of a great soul, and await justice for Cabilo and those alike, the Malaysian authorities were reported to be still “working on the case.” Looks like the tycoons just found themselves some new BFF’s !!
..........................................................................................................................................................................
Just sum info that a friend had shared with me as i was writing this article; i thought might be interesting:
According to a pole done by the Malaysian Home Ministry:
* 76 % out of a 1600 sample size were angry at the local police.
* 70% out of a 1500 sample size had paid bribe to a police officer out of desperation.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Twenty froggies
This was my favourite bedtime poem that mummy use to read to me when i was tiny :)
Twenty froggies went to school, down beside a rushy pool,Twenty little coats of green, twenty vests all white and clean."We must be in time", said they; "First we study, then we play;That is how we keep the rule, when we froggies go to school."
Master Froggy, grave and stern, called the classes in their turn,Taught them how to nobly strive; likewise how to leap and dive;From his seat upon a log, showed them how to say "Kerchog!"Also how to dodge a blow from the sticks which bad boys throw.
Twenty froggies grew up fast, big frogs they became at last;Not one dunce among the lot; not one lesson they forgot;Polished to a high degree, as each froggy ought to be,Now they sit on other logs, teaching other little frogs.
Twenty froggies went to school, down beside a rushy pool,Twenty little coats of green, twenty vests all white and clean."We must be in time", said they; "First we study, then we play;That is how we keep the rule, when we froggies go to school."
Master Froggy, grave and stern, called the classes in their turn,Taught them how to nobly strive; likewise how to leap and dive;From his seat upon a log, showed them how to say "Kerchog!"Also how to dodge a blow from the sticks which bad boys throw.
Twenty froggies grew up fast, big frogs they became at last;Not one dunce among the lot; not one lesson they forgot;Polished to a high degree, as each froggy ought to be,Now they sit on other logs, teaching other little frogs.
Monday, October 19, 2009
f.e.e.l t.h.e l.o.v.e
JUSTICE is what LOVE LOOKS LIKE IN PUBLIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Above is officially my favourite phrase of the year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This simple words are true encouragement, to continue doing the things that i find worth doing in life, regardless of the hardship.
Above is officially my favourite phrase of the year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This simple words are true encouragement, to continue doing the things that i find worth doing in life, regardless of the hardship.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
One revolution
There is an estimated over 2 million migrants and 100,000 asylum seekers and refugees in Malaysia. Most of them from neighboring countries such as Mynmmar, Philipines, Thailand, Viatnam, Nepal, Bangladesh, India and Indonesia. These people, mostly Asians, are well assimilated into our culture and some of them are even born and raised in our “Tanah tumpah darahku”. They look like us, they eat our food, they speak our language, they walk our land, they wear our clothes. Needless to say, with our multicolored and multicultural society within Malaysia, it is difficult to differentiate a true Malaysian from “the rest”.
Illegal Migrants and asylum seekers and refugees are often intertwined with each other because of their nature of “not belonging to the country”. However, there is a huge difference between these groups. Illegal migrants are foreigners who cross national borders in a way that violates the immigration laws of our country or overstay their visitation/ study / or work permit. Refugees are people who flee their country of origin to escape danger or persecuting. On the other hand, asylum seekers are people who seek to be recognized as a refugee, a point where ones status is afloat.
There is obvious worry among the rakyat and our government regarding the influx in illegal migrants and asylum seekers in our country. Some of these worries are baseless, and others completely understandable such as the lack of resources within the country to sustain the growth of this community and the rise in crime. Whatever our stand may be on this issue, we have to acknowledge the fact that they are here in our present, and the numbers seem to be growing as the days pass us by.
In the current situation, less has and can been done to assist this group- mainly because of labels such as “illegal” and “foreign”. Children are raised without education, families have no access to medical support and most of them live in slumps that you and I would never imagine even walking pass by. This ghetto they call it, is one of the rich soil for social and health problems to flower. It is where women and children are abused, it is where people start stealing, it is where diseases and STD’s such as AIDS sprout, this is where people die of abuse, hunger and illness.
A conversation regarding the issue of illegal migrants in our country sparked a debate between a fellow friend and i. “Why should we help out foreigners when there is much space for improvement in our rakyat?” she asks. Besides the obvious argument of “basic human rights” and “ a world without boarders”, I realized that different goals and interests can be achieved from common processes.
If the debate should take a turn to a more technical approach, I would argue that the overall lifestyle of illegal migrants and asylum seekers residing in our country should be overlooked, and assisted for improvement as a step to improve our Malaysian society as a whole taking into account that they make up 10% of our society.,
There is always a bigger picture to look at. For this purpose, allow me to paint this picture of the benefits of efforts to improve the lifestyle of migrants and refugees in our country.
Access to health care would definitely reduce the prevalence of epidemic such as HIV, and promise a more “civilized” portion of the community. Should there be improvement in the area of medical access, HIV and other STD’s within the migrant community can be curbed, this will in return reduce the transmission of the virus to the “locals”. Access to education may allow young children to learn values that would make them “friendly” members of the community where the “locals” shall not fear safety when walking in their own land.
An acknowledgement of a “refugee” status for asylum seekers (the term “refugees” are not acknowledged in Malaysia) would allow a faster and smoother process of their relocation to other recipient countries.
A migrant can be killed and go unnoticed because there are no records of their existence.
Other than that, there are many abuse and rape cases that go on unreported because “illegals” are afraid to approach our local authority. Should there be a safe place where they can make complaints, there will be lesser “ harmful” people walking our streets.
These are just some of the many steps that can be taken into considerations.
At this moment, I believe the future of our nation should overpower the jurisdiction. By improving the lifestyle of illegal migrants and refugees in our country, I believe that the government would not be encouraging or welcoming illegal migrants into the country, but instead looking out for the future of our nation. I understand that resources are scarce, especially with the wave of global recession, however, there are many international funding that support such efforts, and would be more than willing to elevate our financial burden or constrains, with the support of the government. There are also many sprouting NGO’s that are beginning to lend a hand, and with collaboration from the government, wonders can be achieved.
Thus, whichever point of view we may come from, whether or not it is to advocate for basic human rights, a world without boarders, or to put the interest of our people before the “others”, I believe it can all be achieved by one common process. Let me stress again, whether we like it or not, they are here in our now. Its either we sit back and complain about the situation, or we can make the best of what we have and work around our struggles.
Uphold rights of every person as set out in the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which is international customary law and therefore binding on Malaysia.
R.I.P Kuchimai
Thank you baby for living such a beautiful life. You were always so forgiving, youthful till your last day, and just pure....
We love what you have thought us, we love that you were in our lives, we love that you were more than we could ever ask for.
We love what you have thought us, we love that you were in our lives, we love that you were more than we could ever ask for.
R.I.P Uncle Muru
You can cry now that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived
You can close your eyes and pray
That he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see
All he has left for us
You heart can be empty
Because you can’t see him
Or it can be full of the love you shared with him
You can turn your back on tomorrow
And live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow
Because of yesterday
You can crush your faith
Because of his life that was taken
Or you can strengthen your spirit
Because of the life that was given
You can think of all that he would have had
Should he have lived
Or you should know that he has more
Should you choose to believe
You can cry and close your mind
Be empty and give up hope
Or you can do what he’d want:
Smile, open your eyes, love, and go on!
Love,
Or you can smile because he has lived
You can close your eyes and pray
That he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see
All he has left for us
You heart can be empty
Because you can’t see him
Or it can be full of the love you shared with him
You can turn your back on tomorrow
And live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow
Because of yesterday
You can crush your faith
Because of his life that was taken
Or you can strengthen your spirit
Because of the life that was given
You can think of all that he would have had
Should he have lived
Or you should know that he has more
Should you choose to believe
You can cry and close your mind
Be empty and give up hope
Or you can do what he’d want:
Smile, open your eyes, love, and go on!
Love,
Lil one.
Mind Vs Mater
What the hell is reality? Do you, me or this Seasons chrysanthemum tea in front of me really exist outside of the mind? The possibility of objects and even thoughts might just be an illusion is truly annoying, as close as trying to quantify infinity. It’s sickening.
Have you ever seen a figure from the corner of your eye but when you turned to look there was nobody there? If it is possible to be sometimes deceived by the human mind, therefore isn’t it possible to always be deceived?
Ho do we figure out the purpose of life when we cant even be sure if life exist?
As science would explain matter; we know that an object exist because our 5 senses tells us its there. We see, touch, smell, hear or taste it, and therefore it is real.
But when you look at an object, the light bounces off the objects and hits the retina, some wham bham chemical changes happen, alakazheem alakazhaam and wallah……we see!!!! And the same process somewhat repeats when we use all our other senses too.
So technically…… its not that we are experiencing the object itself, by right….we are experiencing the chemical change that happens within us. NONE of us has EVER experienced ANYTHING directly.
Suppose we were to mimic those exact chemical reactions and channel it into our brains….wouldn’t it look/see/fee/smell/taste like a matter from outside your brain? Would we then know how to differentiate between mind and matter?
So then…how do we know or proof that anything scientific is “true” if we never get a chance to experience/ perceive ANYTHING on this world directly???
I’m starring at my chrysanthemum tea at the moment. If nobody was looking at it, would it still be yellow? Is color just a common reaction by the human mind? Does the world only have color when someone is looking at it?
Ages ago, people believed that the world was flat until one find day, one smart fella went “hey guess what?? It’s a sphere!!!”. People thought he was crazy, it was only after a long time was his theory proven and people started accepting the new found “truth”. Once, the reality was that the world was flat, nobody questioned it, nobody doubted it….. but then, the reality changed. Maybe 2000 years from now, people will be laughing at our stupidity for believing that “this world/life” is the reality. Our perception of the world doesn’t necessarily depend on the object itself, it depends on the mind. If what we experience in life merely just a blob of chemicals, are we then living in reality? Is reality referring to stuff that our minds conjure??
When we say the word “chrysanthemum tea”….. we generalize the word to all tea that are similar. But truth being, no two tea have anything in common except for its name. When we talk to someone and refer to something, we assume that it’s the understanding of the same “something”….when in fact….its not!!!
So how do we trust what we have been thought? Are we sure that it is the same “teachings” of the founder and not an altered state of it by the learner?? As we turn to people who we assume to be more stronger/ wiser etc… we should rely wonder… how the hell do they know???? How does anyone ever be sure about anything???
Doesn’t everything just seem maya? Is it less of a life value being stuck in a state of maya???
Have you ever seen a figure from the corner of your eye but when you turned to look there was nobody there? If it is possible to be sometimes deceived by the human mind, therefore isn’t it possible to always be deceived?
Ho do we figure out the purpose of life when we cant even be sure if life exist?
As science would explain matter; we know that an object exist because our 5 senses tells us its there. We see, touch, smell, hear or taste it, and therefore it is real.
But when you look at an object, the light bounces off the objects and hits the retina, some wham bham chemical changes happen, alakazheem alakazhaam and wallah……we see!!!! And the same process somewhat repeats when we use all our other senses too.
So technically…… its not that we are experiencing the object itself, by right….we are experiencing the chemical change that happens within us. NONE of us has EVER experienced ANYTHING directly.
Suppose we were to mimic those exact chemical reactions and channel it into our brains….wouldn’t it look/see/fee/smell/taste like a matter from outside your brain? Would we then know how to differentiate between mind and matter?
So then…how do we know or proof that anything scientific is “true” if we never get a chance to experience/ perceive ANYTHING on this world directly???
I’m starring at my chrysanthemum tea at the moment. If nobody was looking at it, would it still be yellow? Is color just a common reaction by the human mind? Does the world only have color when someone is looking at it?
Ages ago, people believed that the world was flat until one find day, one smart fella went “hey guess what?? It’s a sphere!!!”. People thought he was crazy, it was only after a long time was his theory proven and people started accepting the new found “truth”. Once, the reality was that the world was flat, nobody questioned it, nobody doubted it….. but then, the reality changed. Maybe 2000 years from now, people will be laughing at our stupidity for believing that “this world/life” is the reality. Our perception of the world doesn’t necessarily depend on the object itself, it depends on the mind. If what we experience in life merely just a blob of chemicals, are we then living in reality? Is reality referring to stuff that our minds conjure??
When we say the word “chrysanthemum tea”….. we generalize the word to all tea that are similar. But truth being, no two tea have anything in common except for its name. When we talk to someone and refer to something, we assume that it’s the understanding of the same “something”….when in fact….its not!!!
So how do we trust what we have been thought? Are we sure that it is the same “teachings” of the founder and not an altered state of it by the learner?? As we turn to people who we assume to be more stronger/ wiser etc… we should rely wonder… how the hell do they know???? How does anyone ever be sure about anything???
Doesn’t everything just seem maya? Is it less of a life value being stuck in a state of maya???
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Just my luck
So she rushes out of her house last week, as usual.. always late to work. Before she shuts the door, her housemate calls out her name, “Kathy”!...
“Ya”?, she turns around. “pull up your skirt”! “I can see your thongs”. Kathy reached out to the back of her skirt and tugged up her skirt while trying to balance her half a ton laptop on her back, handbag in one hand and having to calm down her ADHD dog with the other hand.
So the fact that she was indeed wearing thongs on that day was confirmed. In fact, she even remembers what color it was- purple, and fit.
Work was quiet that day, there wasn’t anyone in the office but her. She sat in her chair quietly as the time passed by slowly. Lunch time was something to look forward to. 1.30pm sharp, she picked up her 100 baht bag and locked up the office, walked down the stairs and headed out. As she was walking, she felt cold wind blow against her skirt, and for some reason… the cold air didn’t stop at the flair…it moved up…. all the way up where the sun don’t shine.
Kathy placed her right hand over her but cheeks discretely, hoping that none of the annas from the Tamil CD shop below her office would notice her touching herself. Confused was exactly what she was, not quite sure how to process what she had just realized. The cheeks were smooth all the way to the top, no string on top and no string in between. Oh my.Where the fuck was her panties??? Where???? I mean… what the hell could have happened to it??? It was there a few hours ago, and it was gone.
She stood there in shock, looked around and checked her ankle to see if she might have been dragging her purple thongs throughout Masjid India. The fact that that she was gonna spend the whole day without panties in Masjid India wasn’t the issue. Quite traumatizing it was imagining the creepiest possible way that she could have lost her panties in Masjid India, and worst case scenarios- If there was a sanitary pad attached to it!!!!
Panties thoyol maybe? Coz she remembered one of her colleague telling her how one of her bra strap had unhooked, FRONT and BACK and slipped all the way through her long sleeved blouse and fell out on the roads of Masjid India.
Nothing could ever surprise Kathy again. She took pulling a “Kathy” to a whole different level. Her mother always told her that she would loose her panties someday. Well, I guess I just proved that it wasn’t just a figure of speech… at least one person saw it coming. Like there isn’t enough to think about in life, now she even has to think about ways to safeguard her panties before walking out the door.
Kudos Kathy, Kudos.
“Ya”?, she turns around. “pull up your skirt”! “I can see your thongs”. Kathy reached out to the back of her skirt and tugged up her skirt while trying to balance her half a ton laptop on her back, handbag in one hand and having to calm down her ADHD dog with the other hand.
So the fact that she was indeed wearing thongs on that day was confirmed. In fact, she even remembers what color it was- purple, and fit.
Work was quiet that day, there wasn’t anyone in the office but her. She sat in her chair quietly as the time passed by slowly. Lunch time was something to look forward to. 1.30pm sharp, she picked up her 100 baht bag and locked up the office, walked down the stairs and headed out. As she was walking, she felt cold wind blow against her skirt, and for some reason… the cold air didn’t stop at the flair…it moved up…. all the way up where the sun don’t shine.
Kathy placed her right hand over her but cheeks discretely, hoping that none of the annas from the Tamil CD shop below her office would notice her touching herself. Confused was exactly what she was, not quite sure how to process what she had just realized. The cheeks were smooth all the way to the top, no string on top and no string in between. Oh my.Where the fuck was her panties??? Where???? I mean… what the hell could have happened to it??? It was there a few hours ago, and it was gone.
She stood there in shock, looked around and checked her ankle to see if she might have been dragging her purple thongs throughout Masjid India. The fact that that she was gonna spend the whole day without panties in Masjid India wasn’t the issue. Quite traumatizing it was imagining the creepiest possible way that she could have lost her panties in Masjid India, and worst case scenarios- If there was a sanitary pad attached to it!!!!
Panties thoyol maybe? Coz she remembered one of her colleague telling her how one of her bra strap had unhooked, FRONT and BACK and slipped all the way through her long sleeved blouse and fell out on the roads of Masjid India.
Nothing could ever surprise Kathy again. She took pulling a “Kathy” to a whole different level. Her mother always told her that she would loose her panties someday. Well, I guess I just proved that it wasn’t just a figure of speech… at least one person saw it coming. Like there isn’t enough to think about in life, now she even has to think about ways to safeguard her panties before walking out the door.
Kudos Kathy, Kudos.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Lovers, soul mate, whatever
Our paths chime a fairy-tale so common,
We were merely more then freshmen,
With a lover, soul mate, whatever…
Please don’t cry in your teacup forever.
May your next choice be one of your heart’s voice,
Lover, soul mate, whatever…
Have faith that somehow forever,
We can find a way to be together.
Blissful glee like our Marley and me,
I’ll make you my best mate, faithful company,
Really now, does it matter?
Lover, soul mate, whatever,
We can cry tears of joy in your teacup whenever.
My heart find asylum in yours,
Lovers now seem so lost,
Soul mates never seem to cross,
Whatever might just be our force.
We were merely more then freshmen,
With a lover, soul mate, whatever…
Please don’t cry in your teacup forever.
May your next choice be one of your heart’s voice,
Lover, soul mate, whatever…
Have faith that somehow forever,
We can find a way to be together.
Blissful glee like our Marley and me,
I’ll make you my best mate, faithful company,
Really now, does it matter?
Lover, soul mate, whatever,
We can cry tears of joy in your teacup whenever.
My heart find asylum in yours,
Lovers now seem so lost,
Soul mates never seem to cross,
Whatever might just be our force.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Balance
How do u find a balance between what u want to do in life and what you ought to do in life?
I have a sister (the most talented of the rest) who is strong, intelligent, beautiful and manages to strive under any circumstances and walk out the best. She landed a job in very high acclaimed corporate company and was pulling in some big bucks, didn’t suit her fancy…so she moved on. Found projects to work on, did an excellent job, was offered a permanent position….didn’t suit her fancy, so she moved on.
Last year, she went for a permaculture course in the US, had a blast of a time- and she came back a different person all together. She is now living in a farm house in Batu Arang running her own permaculture course. Mud filled hands, dirty clothes, organic soap (that really dusnt do justice to her hair or skin), rat bitten hair, blisters on the souls of her feet and not to mention “not getting any”- all from farming and working on the land.
He land is gifting her with beautiful vegetables, fresh fish and embun pagi. I swear she aged at least 3 years within the past month, and shez so out of touch from the rest of the world- but I have to say, I have never seen her more content with herself and where she is in my life. There is really nothing more that she could ask for, she is exactly where she wants to be.
So, im guessing it took her courage to break away from the usual stereotype. Pay your loans, support your family, buy a house, get insurance, get a car, buy your loved ones presents, give back to charity, go travelling…… theres just too many things at stake in exchange for doing something that you want to do.
We are not selfish if we choose to live our passion, there is always a way to strive if we believe that we shall be great someday. And so you shall, be great someday… and till that day comes, I will be here, buying you your favorite snacks when you have your womanly (or whats left of it) cravings.
I too wish to run off to Africa live with the zebras, swim with the dolphins and touch the white lion’s mane, kiss the tail of a whale, play with children, sing with the old, dance with the crippled. Waiting patiently is no sweat, if you believe that it WILL happen, just not now.
So I guess my balance is faith in myself.
I have a sister (the most talented of the rest) who is strong, intelligent, beautiful and manages to strive under any circumstances and walk out the best. She landed a job in very high acclaimed corporate company and was pulling in some big bucks, didn’t suit her fancy…so she moved on. Found projects to work on, did an excellent job, was offered a permanent position….didn’t suit her fancy, so she moved on.
Last year, she went for a permaculture course in the US, had a blast of a time- and she came back a different person all together. She is now living in a farm house in Batu Arang running her own permaculture course. Mud filled hands, dirty clothes, organic soap (that really dusnt do justice to her hair or skin), rat bitten hair, blisters on the souls of her feet and not to mention “not getting any”- all from farming and working on the land.
He land is gifting her with beautiful vegetables, fresh fish and embun pagi. I swear she aged at least 3 years within the past month, and shez so out of touch from the rest of the world- but I have to say, I have never seen her more content with herself and where she is in my life. There is really nothing more that she could ask for, she is exactly where she wants to be.
So, im guessing it took her courage to break away from the usual stereotype. Pay your loans, support your family, buy a house, get insurance, get a car, buy your loved ones presents, give back to charity, go travelling…… theres just too many things at stake in exchange for doing something that you want to do.
We are not selfish if we choose to live our passion, there is always a way to strive if we believe that we shall be great someday. And so you shall, be great someday… and till that day comes, I will be here, buying you your favorite snacks when you have your womanly (or whats left of it) cravings.
I too wish to run off to Africa live with the zebras, swim with the dolphins and touch the white lion’s mane, kiss the tail of a whale, play with children, sing with the old, dance with the crippled. Waiting patiently is no sweat, if you believe that it WILL happen, just not now.
So I guess my balance is faith in myself.
Beloved One
We have both been here before
Knockin upon loves door
Begging for someone to let us in
Knowing this we can agree to keep each other company
Never to go down that road again
My beloved one,
my beloved oneYour eyes shine through me
You are so divine to me
Your heart has a home in mine
We wont have to say a word
With a touch all shall be heard
When I search my heart its you I find
My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one
You were meant for me,
I believe you were sent to me from a dream straight intoTo my arms
Hold your body close to me
You mean the most to me
We will keep each other safe from harm
My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one
-Ben Harper-
Knockin upon loves door
Begging for someone to let us in
Knowing this we can agree to keep each other company
Never to go down that road again
My beloved one,
my beloved oneYour eyes shine through me
You are so divine to me
Your heart has a home in mine
We wont have to say a word
With a touch all shall be heard
When I search my heart its you I find
My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one
You were meant for me,
I believe you were sent to me from a dream straight intoTo my arms
Hold your body close to me
You mean the most to me
We will keep each other safe from harm
My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one
-Ben Harper-
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