Just get home safely

It's the year of the Dragon! And before I begin what I'd set out here to write, I'm choosing to not give up this rare opportunity to wish all of you sepets, oink-oink eaters, ang pow givers and every tom, dick and harry out there who would be celebrating this prosperous and blessed festival. May your homes be filled with love, joy, peace and may you be blessed with God's divine protection, good health, cheerful company, fruitful success, refreshing rest and joyful moments everyday. Peace out.

____________

Before the date was settled and passports renewed, it was an either here nor there moment as Dad contemplated on the destination for a family vacation. India was apart of the list of countries he'd initially planned for and then there came along China to take it's place. After weighing the pros and cons and all the necessary, Dad finally settled for Rome - especially since it's going to be the last time that country would be listed on the list of countries MAS flies to (only for the time being, I hope). It was also decided that it would only be Mum whom he would take along with him. In a country as romantic as Rome, with it being thousands and thousands of miles away from the three of us, it's little wonder why eh?

With both of their luggage packed and ready to spend the rest of the entire CNY week in the company of each other, they'd be leaving tonight.

People would ask me, having found out about my parents dued absence if whether we'd be okay on our own. Never really parting from my sarcastic and egoistic ways, I'd reply, "Good, let them go". I'd smile the cheeky thresher-cat smile and make the kind of hand gesture that would only mean, when translated, "Get lost!". But after what took place yesterday, I'm starting to open my eyes a little wider and look at their absence in a slightly different light.

A few hours before I hit the sheets, Dad huddled us all together as a unit and had a little family meeting. And of all things, he'd brought up the topic about his will. It would be the first time we'd be left on our own without the supervision of the two pillars which have kept our little stuffy condominium a home all these years. So that is why Dad thought it would be an appropriate time to brief us, touching on the surface of everything from safety right up to the steps we would be advised to take if, god forbid, anything were to happen to them while they spend time away.

What strummed the emotional chord and rendered great importance was when he said that if anything were to happen to them, he'd be the proudest Dad if during the eulogy at his funeral, we'd mention... I'm paraphrasing but it was something along the lines of:

1. I have been Christian my whole life.
2. I love the Lord my God with all my heart and soul.
3. I hope, with all my might, that the rest of you would accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior.

These are the three things he wants me to mention during his eulogy. After thinking and pondering upon the whole idea of him not being around anymore, I shook my head and tried to erase even the slightest trace of that thought altogether.

However, on a similar note, I'd like to think that they'd have a wonderful time in the comfortable and loving company of each other. I hope they get to discover new things and be amazed at things that would surprise them.

But if I had just one wish, I just wish for them to come home safely.

Old, but still young at heart

I was at the innocent age of 6 or 7 - not too sure - and in the process of growing up, when I was told of something which amazed me. We were on our way to church on a Sunday morning, and beside me sat Nanny. She was her usual self, chirpy and well-prepared with nonsensical inquiries regarding anything and everything that was mentioned during the entire journey. Inquiries or questions which weren't linked to any expectation for any answers as they were only brought up to fill in the gaps where silence crept its way in. Sort of like a cue-card thought which was just a contrivance to throw us off track so that we'd repeat ourselves and include her in the conversation. Cheeky, much. 

Along the way, Dad made a sharp turning and was on the Sungei Besi road. Seemingly more awake and alert that morning, it was the first time I bothered to look out of the window. Straight ahead on my right, slightly below the glowing white clouds that illuminated the dark sky which was slowly being dominated by lighter shades of blue, there was a lonely hangar. Airplanes, different sizes and models of airplanes were stored in there and being the thorn among the beautiful red roses, a big olive green beated- up helicopter stood out. It reminded me of the aircrafts that were summoned to war during the attack on Pearl Harbor. I ooh-ed and aah-ed and taking notice of the gleam in my eyes, Nanny told me that in her early days, she used to fly it. Being to little tell the difference between her lying and honest face, I believed her. She had the most innocent eyes, the kind of eyes children have and nothing in me could have imagined her feeling me lies - even if it was an innocent, little while lie. 

A few years later- more like a few months ago-  we passed by the hanger again when I suddenly pondered upon that little memory of what she had told me that day and retrieved it from the distant part of my brain it had been pocketed into. This time however, I started to doubt it. It was to the point where I couldn't just let it go so, taking advantage of the remaining time I had with her seated beside me, I decided to bring it up. As I ask her about the olive-green helicopter, interrogating her, I felt as if my conscience was laughing at me because after a few seconds too late, I realized how stupid it sounded. But of course - being senile but not deaf - she heard it, registered it for a while and without giving me a straight answer, she began to laugh her evil wicked-witch laugh. I knew then that she was just messing around with me, but even so, I sulked during the entire ride back home. 

This, coming from the person who taught me to always tell the truth and that even if it is a little white lie, it is still a lie, I couldn't believe it. I was disappointed and papaya-faced for the rest of the day. The 7 year-old me would have cried but the 18-year-old me just sat in the corner and kept to myself. I wondered if she would've told me the truth instead of feeding me those lies... but I then realized that it wouldn't matter either way. In this life, there are these people whom you can live without, people whom you can stay mad at and not give a damn if you ever forgive them or not. But then, on the other hand, there are also these handful of people whom you can scwabble with, have tiff after tiff and disagreement after disagreement...but at the end of the day, you'd realize that if it wasn't even your fault and if they weren't willing to apologize, you would do so anyway because you cherish the relationship more than you do your pride and ego. Nanny is one of those people in the latter category. 

I'm beginning to cherish and appreciate my grandma a little more these days, even though I know I should've started a long time ago. She's now sitting in the corner on her usual right-side of the sofa, catching the rays of sunlight that stream through the window as she leafs through the Sunday Times. I glance over to her every now and then and I think of the times I put my pride ahead of my better judgement, which lead to never-ending disagreements. I think of the times I raised my voice while trying to put my point across to her. I think of the times I shouted back at her when she was just advising me to be careful. I think and replay those horrible events and am washed over by a wave of regret. 

She's sitting only a few feet away from me and I miss her, and that's never a good way to miss someone. We haven't fought for a few weeks now and I'm beginning to believe that my Wednesdays aren't cursed after all. Nevertheless, I hope she knows I love her. After Grandpa passed away, she is the only one I have left and no matter what, there would always be a part of me that would be willing to do anything to see and make her happy. 

Above the clouds

Just when I was about to find closure in the number of misfortunes that have taken place in the period of this year alone, fate made a U-turn and each and every one of my family members’ were in for a shock of their lives.

Yesterday on a Wednesday afternoon, under harsh sunlight, the life of my granduncle (my grandma’s elder brother; Uncle Artie) was robbed when just a little acceleration on the reverse gear lead to him being rammed by a trailer. He was in the driving seat, of course, with his wife by his side and his son and daughter-in-law at the backseat. The four of them set off to go to Putrajaya to settle some legal documents which would entitle them to benefits that were especially for his son and daughter-in-law, both of whom are hearing-impaired. The whole scenario of the four of them being in the same car together sounded a tad too fishy for me because first of all, they weren’t on good terms , Uncle Artie and his son and two, it has everything to do with Uncle Artie’s daughter-in-law. You see, the both of them despised each other and for what reason... only God knows. And besides, it all seems too much like the Bold and Beautiful soap drama that come to think of it, I’d rather not poke my nose in any further than it already is. However, if I may say so, despite the hatred and tension that was in the air when Uncle Artie and his daughter-in-law were under the same roof, Uncle Artie put it behind him and was able to be a father to his son when he needed help. Heck, the man should be given some credit for the good deed he did, even if that good deed was done a few hours before his life was taken away. To say the least, he left in peace. That much we are sure of.

Today, as I didn’t have anything on my agenda, I decided to tag along with Nanny, Grandaunt Dolly, Uncle Bush and Felix to the Putrajaya Hospital. I don’t know what my intensions were, tagging along, because instead of feeling the need to see if Aunt Esther, Jeffrey and his wife were okay, I was hesitant even about stepping foot into the ICU. I don’t like hospitals and neither have I given it much thought to disking them. It’s just that maybe it has been awhile since I ever step foot in one, the last time being about 4 years ago when my Grandpa was admitted in the General Hospital.

This time, I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion nor was I anxious to see if everything was going to be just fine. I didn’t feel the same, although everything else was. There were people occupying every vacant seat in the waiting area, swarming like bees when someone got up for a minute to most probably take a leak; families waiting anxiously for more news about their loved ones; restless children whom were either running around or pulling at their parent’s shirts to attend to them. The sterilized odour every hospital had was the same and so was the disgustingly cold cafeteria food hospitals often had. The only thing that was different was the person lying down on the hospital bed with a tube in her nose and the relationship I had with her. She was Aunty Esther. She is not my grandmother nor is she apart of my intermediate family; she’s the second wife to my late Granduncle Artie – I secretly hope this justifies my undeveloped closeness toward her.

While everyone else rushed impatiently – rushed meaning, walked faster than the slow pace they’d usually walk at – I excused myself from the crowd of them and buried my face in a book at a dark corner of the waiting room. I didn’t want to go in; I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. So I hid away. Being elderly, they now have an additional tape-recorder characteristic that came along with their coming of age. They broke the record for the number of times they questioned each other about the whole incident, from ‘How did it all happen?’ to ‘What was the race of the driver who drove the trailer?’ It was endless I tell you. I was hoping that it would end by the time we got in the car to head back home but I should have known better.

Before we left to be on our way home, they insisted on making one last important stop – the mortuary. In an instant, I remembered the CSI crime lab where they had a scene in a mortuary but when I entered, it was not as gloomy, dim, or eerie as what we usually see on television. This morgue was brightly lit, however the only creepiness there was the absence of the staff. For a moment, we let our conscience be our guide as we followed the signage on the doors but as our conscience was slowly disappointing us, the staff appeared out of nowhere, helpfully acquiesced to our request to see the body of Granduncle Artie. Once again, like before, as they stood around the 4°C body, I stood away. Even as I stood away at an exceptional distance, I saw enough. There were blood stains blotching up the white cloth that wrapped him; his head was stitched up; and on the left side of his face, it looked like someone had punched him and all the blood vessels had exploded at the same time.

It was so awkward to see him in such a state – a bloody mess, defeated, still, cold, silent – simply because the last I remember seeing him was during a family gathering where he had barged him smiling like a man on a mission. And I hope to always remember him that way.

______________

9/12/11

I hopped into the Frontier when Dad came to pick me up after class and upon updating him about tomorrow’s itinerary – I told him I wasn’t attending the funeral – he’d told me that a few hours ago, in the morning, Granduncle Artie’s wife, Aunt Esther, too, had breathed her last breath.  So seeing as I would not be able to attend the funeral the following day, I decided to come along with them to the wake service.

To be placed side-by-side, Aunt Esther’s coffin arrived shortly later in the evening as the caretakers came, did the necessary, and left. While waiting in line to see the coffins, I was pretty calm and composed... until I set my eyes on the children whose parents were now in both of the coffins before me. Although, they can’t be called ‘children’ anymore – all three married with each a family of their own. But I guess it doesn’t really matter if they were or not, because at the end of the day, they’d have to deal with it... albeit at a snail’s pace.

We leafed through a variety of newspapers as well as scrolled through news’ online websites for articles about the incident and on the Ntv7 website, the headline was ‘Family of four cheats death’. They most probably jinxed it because they only cheated by about a few minutes. In the end, death won the battle and two lives were taken from us. To Nanny, this is all too tragic for her to comprehend and deal with but to Daddy, he saw it as a blessing in disguise. You see, everywhere that man went, she was always a few steps behind him, always never too far from his reach. Even if Aunt Esther had survived – her condition improved and she managed to escape from any post-accident trauma – she would not have been able to carry on surviving without Granduncle Artie.

They were the ultimate couple any marriage would opt for, even after eons of being married to each other. And if they can’t be with us physically, at least they’d still have the rest of their lives to be together up there above the clouds.

R.I.P Uncle Artie and Aunt Esther. The both of you would be missed dearly. Love.

For the article about the incident, click here:  Family of Four Cheats Death.

She's apart of our family

The unpredictability and hecticness of the days that have come and gone has blown in another day for me to spare; Friday. I am not, by any means, stating this out of relief that the weekend is a day away but out of sadness and melancholy that our days with Aunt Manisah and her daughter in our residence have been narrowed down to two. And soon, it would be that time again when hugs and well wishes will be exchanged and goodbyes will be said.

Tonight, at the Mani's residence, a farewell/birthday party was initiated for her. Everyone, from close relatives to family friends who knew her, chipped in their time and effort to make it all possible. A wide spread of glorious food was laid out on the dining table, mostly home-cooked made out of love. Uncle Kevin willingly helped Nanny out at the kitchen by volunteering to do a dish - his true speciality, Pasta. Seeing it as an open opportunity, I took the liberty to learn his dish. He was nice (and patient) enough to teach me by starting off with the basics - I had to chop onions and garlics, grate carrots, half-fry the ham and then stir and stir and stir some more until my hand ached. He guided me through the recipe and in the end, I was given the rights to say that I made the dish.

By a quarter to 8 pm., when guests started filling up the living room, Aunt Manisah was escorted from her room by her daughter to engage in what turned out to be a memorable night. Dinner was served and shortly afterwards, so was desert... and then followed by a cake. As she sat at the head of the table with everyone else surrounding her, singing her a birthday song and saying prayers for her, her expression gave away the strong front she was trying to put up. She was so overwhelmed by emotion and touched by everything, that there was no room to be composed. Even her daughter couldn't help it. It was only after I hugged her and spoke with her that I found out that apparently, back at their home in Indonesia, birthdays cannot afford to be celebrated. So, seeing the wide spread of food fit for a king, and being surrounded by people who love her, was something she never experienced before. Her tears strangulated her voice as she tried to thank each and everyone of us, but... we understood.

Before the night came to an end, there was one last thing planned for her. Or to be more specific, to present to her.

As a small token of love from us to her, I wanted to make her a video. And in that video, my brother and I would sing "Keep holding on" while a slide-show of our pictures with her would be shown as well. We had hours and hours of practice and recording test-runs. We also dug out albums which held our pictures with her, capturing each and every one of them for the video slide-show. But in the end, my plan did not follow through. Everything was rushed and time was slipping through our fingers so we had no other choice but to do it live, in front of her. You would think that I would be ready after all those hours of practice but I wasn't. I hesitated. And at the last minute, it was my brother and sister who talked me into doing it. They insisted and would not take a "no" for an answer.

Dad did our intro, thanking her and making sure she knows how much of a blessing she has been to us over the years. His words tugged at all of our hearts and in no time the whole room was filled with teary eyes and broken hearts. Before I even began the song, I lost it. I could not hold myself together because it was too painful. Too painful to tell her to Keep holding on when I myself was struggling at that. I tried real hard to fight back the tears from rolling down my cheeks, and eventually I managed to finish the song. When it was over, I realized why my siblings were so insistent that we do it - it was a 'now or never' thing. And besides, she needed to hear those lyrics as much as we needed to say what we wanted her to know before it was too late.

It was also a little something for her to remember us by.

_____________

As darkness was traded in for light, the dark skies slowly welcomed the warmness of the morning sun. The day started pretty early for us. Upon arriving at Nanny's residence, Dad loaded up the 4×4 and their boxes were strapped onto the roof of the vehicle. We made our way to KLIA to send her off. After checking in their boxes and doing the necessary, all that was left to do was wait until it was time to board the flight. Pictures were taken of our every move and over steaming cups of cappuccino, we probably had our last face-to-face conversation.   


Shortly afterwards, it was time for them to board the plane. Hugs were exchanged, well-wishes were said and tears were shed. Whether it was the years spent with Kak Manisah or the weeks spent with her daughter, we have become so attached, to the extent where the both of them have become members of our family. Mainly, Kak Manisah. And how do you say "goodbye" to someone you have become so attached to? Sigh. 


All I know for sure is that I'll never find a maid as caring, loving and one-of-a-kind as her - she's irreplaceable. Wherever she is and however her condition, all I pray is that for God to wrap her in His arms and comfort her. Because if there is one thing she needs right now, it is none other than the Lord Almighty.

Reliving my childhood

Dear Kristen, Clarissa and Jonathan. I am sorting out my photo album which have you little children in it. You all look so adorable and cute with big smiles on your faces. Stay close to each other and keep smiling always. I am so blessed and privileged to have you all in my life. May God bless you with the desires of your heart.

Love always, Aunt Sharon.

As soon as her text came in, I read it and instantly replied her requesting for her to bring that photo album. Then, I read it again, and again. And as I did, her words Stay close to each other were like tingling echoes in my eardrum. It made me think and reflect on my relationship with my siblings, how we were then and how we are now.

Sure it goes without saying that much has change during the course of time.

We used to build ourselves a tree-house, a make-believe one made out of pillows, bolsters and blankets. We used to pretend that we were on a mission - I blame it on the influence Kim Possible had on us - with toy guns and weapons in hand. We also pretended to have fins and played teatime like mermaids in our condominium's public swimming pool - trying to hold our breaths as much as possible and acting like it was effortless. We took long bike rides together almost every evening, roller-skated till' our feet hurt, and when our friends initiated a game of badminton, we'd conquer the whole stretch of road along the row of my Grandma's house to play it together. Not to mention the uncountable times we argued and fought like cats and dogs among ourselves. We did everything together, which I believe, is what bonded us on levels exceptional of a good family foundation.

Over time, I realized that it was through doing things together that I began to open up to them - and I don't only speak for myself. I began to tell them secrets that were hard to keep but knew they would. I began to tell them about current crushes and update them about the happenings in my day. The little things, you know. And in time, I received that same openness and casualness in return.

Now, as we are all on the border to adulthood, I realize that all the things we used to do together such as play hide-and-seek and 'good cop, bad cop' has transitioned into confiding in each other, initiating past-bedtime sibling meetings, and covering each other's asses when either of us gets into trouble. Of course, not everything changes - We still have our petty arguments occasionally, sometimes until the point where I wish I was the only child. But don't we all go through this phase as we are growing up?

I flipped through each page and allowed each photo to lead me to folders of memories stored away in my mind, unleashing a certain nostalgia within me when I could remember the moments behind each photo with clarity. Tears welled up around my eyes and I was overwhelmed with emotion by how beautifully we portrayed togetherness in each picture, with big smiles on our faces... and also by the harsh reality that time passes us by, whether we like it or not, leaving us with only fragments of memory for keeps.

I looked at the three siblings in the photographs taken all those years ago, thought of how we are now, and could not help but smile. I am not sure why but maybe it is knowing well of the fact that despite us growing up, nothing much has changed deep down in our hearts. Maybe it is the peace I have within me in knowing that they won't.

We still have each other's backs. We still cover each other's asses. We still protect each other in every way possible - I know I would. We still try to be there for each other, whether in times of need or not.

And I cherish what my siblings and I have because in a way, I consider myself lucky. In a world that has evil lurking it's way into our lives at every corner, families get broken up; siblings turn their backs on each other and a home does not quite feel much of a home anymore. But not my family, not my siblings and I, not my home.

I guess we would always be those three little children with broad smiles across our faces and eyes washed in wonder, which will also hold as a reminder to me that sometimes, some things are just meant to remain the way they are.

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.

Dear Daddy, with love.

 Dear Daddy, Happy 46th Birthday. 

You may be halfway across the world right now, and I may not get to give you a big warm hug, but I pray that you'll be surrounded by love and happiness. I pray that God's angels will encamp around you throughout every second of the day and may they protect you from harm's way. I'm blowing tons of blessings your way and I hope that it gets you through the day. With love from all of us at home.

I contemplated on which would be the best way to wish you for your birthday and I ended up deciding to write a journal entry. Simply because you're not worth a simple birthday note on Facebook or a quick e-mail; you're worth so much more than that, Daddy. 

After thinking of ways to wish you, came the question of what to say to you. I didn't want to just write you a birthday poem or a letter because I seem to be doing that on every occasion. And I realized that after awhile, the hype of getting something written by one of your children will soon be just another meaningless letter on the table. As I sat in my room, questioning myself, a sudden overwhelming wave of thankfulness washed over me. I began to think about what I was thankful for. 

Here goes: 

I'm thankful for having an amazing father. 

I'm thankful to God that I am one of those blessed ones whom has grown up with a father-figure.

I'm thankful for having someone as my pillar of strength throughout my 17 years.

I'm thankful for having someone in my life I know I can run to, when the going gets tough or when it feels like the world has gone against me.

I'm thankful for having someone in my life whom has never failed to uplift my spirits or to fuel that spark within me when I am discouraged. 

But most of all, I guess I'm just thankful I have you in my life. I've been blessed enough to have you watch me grow up, to watch me 'blossom' into a young lady. And as every daughter needs a father, you were there when I needed you. You were there to encourage me to strive for the best, to put effort into what I love doing and to achieve greater things. Truth be told, I wouldn't have gotten through what I have if it weren't for you. In a few more weeks, I'll be sitting for yet another major exam and that means I'm gonna need someone to drill and discipline me to perform my very best. You see, I'm never gonna stop needing you in my life. Time flies by faster than a blink of an eye and by each second, I'm growing up. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop being your little girl. 

A daughter might be obliged to say these wonderful things but I'm not doing this out of duty as a daughter or obligation. You may have already read the same things in one of the many letters I've written to you, but I'm going to keep saying it. I love you, Daddy. Although you may not hear this word as often as you'd like, just know that I do. And wherever you are right now, my heart and love goes out to you.

The root of love

I spent this past week mostly within the four walls I've come to find comfort in; my classroom, meeting assignment deadlines, absorbing knowledge and watching reruns of the same movie, The Last Song. I guess it's safe to say that the movie was the saving grace of my routined week. After having watched it for almost 5 times, due to various reasons, a string of thoughts have been sparked in my mind.

Mind you, I did not watch it because the main role was played by Miley. I'm not one of those obsessed tween Miley/ Hannah Montana fans, but I don't hate her either. Just like any other girl who is in the process of growing up and blossoming in young ladies, she is on a journey of self-discovery. That's not the main reason anyway. I bothered to watch this movie in the first place because it was another story written by the man who knows the depth of love to it's very core, Nicholas Sparks.

Being someone who is too emotionally inclined with my feelings, I wept my heart out while watching this film as it reminded me of what love feels like when that special someone is around, of what it feels like to be fought for and most of all, I was reminded of the relationship I have with my Dad. No, I don't exactly share my feelings about the opposite sex with him or have deep conversations but I guess I'm one of those lucky ones who are on good terms with their Dad.

I tend to wonder quite often about the powerful impact a father has in their daughter's life. Why do fathers so easily succeed when it comes to inspiring their little angels when mums often struggle to maintain the 'good parent' status? Although it has become a fact that daughters are a Dad's favourite and sons are their momma's boys, I still can't help but wonder why it has to be so.Why is it that I have a certain soft spot in my heart for my father but a slightly different feeling when it comes to my mother? Don't get me wrong though, I love them both regardless.

It was over a conversation I had with my Dad on the way back home from church a few weeks ago, when I felt as though he knew me better than I know myself. As the ever doting and responsible father that he is, he felt the need to ignite a flaming determination within me to want to excel in my studies. He gave me one of those hand-book pep-talks any other father would give their daughter when they turn to a certain age. This time, it was about achievement, leadership and basically just encouraging me to put in the effort to achieve my goals - be it in the future or in the here and now.

I'm paraphrasing but there were a few things he said that struck me deep.

"You'll only ever know the feeling of accomplishment once you've gone through it yourself".

"I am where I am today because I put in the hard word to get to where I am. It doesn't matter if you're first in place or not. What matters is that in whatever you do, you give it your best shot".

"There will come a time in your life when all you would want to do is to be an inspiration in other people's life, especially in your own children's. You'd want to be someone they look up to and set footprints for them to follow".

What would I do without my Dad around to be the root that keeps me grounded in this life I lead?

Gracefully armed

I would unhesitatingly kiss the pavement that leads to my doorstep a million times if there weren't a whole layer of dust gathered. On second thought, to play it safe, I think I'd rather just kiss the air and act as if it were a symbol of thankfulness to be back home.

I arrived back home a few hours ago from the god forbidden town that is Kampar as my family and I took part in the Amazing GRace programme which was organised by Family Life. As first-timers to treasure hunts/ amazing races such as these, I have to say that it was undoubtedly a very interesting journey for all of us as a family.

We awoke from our slumber as early as 4 a.m when all the chaos that is usually around us was set to flight. The junction that can be seen straight ahead from our condominium had not even a single car turning n a direction and at the traffic light, nothing but a pin drop can be heard of. Due to departing at the crack of dawn, we were the first to arrive at the outdoor carpark - which is the place we were all supposed to gather before we set off on our amazing race. Although we were the first team to begin the race, we were faced with difficulties when it came to cracking the first code; we took up more time than we were supposed to. The most surprising things is that we were the 7th team to arrive at the Grand Kampar Hotel inspite of all the U-turns and times we lost our way.

A few hours later when the sky started changing colours from hues of red and orange to dark blue, it was time for the Wild Wild West themed gala celebration. The platform that was made the stage in the hotel diner was decorated with look-alike haystacks, cut-out pictures of cactus and quite a number of pictures of Woody from Toy Story were pasted to the dashboard as the backdrop. As most of them were clad in knee-high cowboy boots, worn out baby blue jeans, plaid shirts and leather cowboy hats, my family and I begged to differ and so we walked in as a family of Red Indians. When I heard about the idea at first, I sort of cringed and hoped to change my Dad's mind, but when I tried on the costumes, I grew a liking towards it. And so I was dressed as Pocahontas for the night.

 

It's time I put all vacations and outings on halt for the time being as I'll be sitting for the Pre- SPM Trials this coming Tuesday. I've been putting my priorities at the top of my list of duties for the past few months and it really has helped me improve academically and physically. All I need to do now is keep this disciplined attitude at a constant rate. I hate how clipped my wings are at the moment, but wishing for freedom right now would sound pretty ludicrous too. I guess it's one of those things I have to endure until all the chaos of being in high-school is history. I'm feeling the way I am once again because today is one of those days when I have so many things to write about but only so little time to spare. 

15th July 2010

When the hands of time stricked midnight last night, it was my best friend's birthday; Roy. Although I managed to send him my best wishes on time, it just didn't seem enough for someone I've know throughout my years of high-school. I'd write him a poem or throw him a party, if life didn't always had to get in the way but it did. 

But here; 

Dear Best Friend, 

I love you more daily. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you and I wish you could love yourself the way I love you. And above all else, I wish your life is everything you deserve because in my opinion, you deserve the world. I will stand by you forever as a shoulder to cry on or a pillar of strength or even as someone you need to talk to when everything has gone wrong. I'm blowing tons of blessings your way and hope that you'll enjoy your day. I don't need to tell you how much you mean to me because you know that you mean the world. 

Happy Birthday, Legend. 

With love, Krissy.

Dear Mum, With love

I realize that Mother's Day just passed and that it may be too late for me to make up for what I didn't do - write a poem for her, but since I now have the time of day, I'd love to pour all my love for my mother onto this little nook of mine. 

___________

Dear Mummy, 

Today's Mother's Day and it's a very special day indeed, 

It's that very day every once in a year when children express their love towards their Mother. 

A daughter is what I am to you; writing this letter to you, in hope your day will be a whole lot better. 

The words 'I Love You' are words I somehow never say too often. 

The three very important words you might only hear once in a while. 

But I'm writing you this to tell you how much you are appreciated for all you do and how much you are loved although we don't see eye to eye on so many things. 

We might even be the total opposites of each other but at the end of the day it doesn't matter. Not one bit. You'll always have a place in my heart as my Mother. 

"You'll always be there everytime I fall, 

You are to me the greatest love of all, 

You take my weakness and you make me strong, 

And I will love you till forever comes... "- Celine Dion.

________________ 

I said a Mother's Day prayer for you
to thank the Lord above
for blessing me with a lifetime
of your tenderhearted love.
I thanked God for the caring
you've shown me through the years,
for the closeness we've enjoyed
in time of laughter and of tears.
And so, I thank you from the heart
for all you've done for me
and I bless the Lord for giving me
the best mother there could be! 

- Author Unknown 

And this is specially dedicated to my grandmother....

Grandmothers are mothers who are grand,
Restoring the sense that our most precious things
Are those that do not change much over time.
No love of childhood is more sublime,
Demanding little, giving on demand,
More inclined than most to grant the wings
On which we fly off to enchanted lands.
Though grandmothers must serve as second mothers,
Helping out with young and restless hearts
Each has all the patience wisdom brings,
Remembering our passions more than others,
Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.
- Nicholas Gordon 

Besides writing this, I initiated a Mother's Day lunch with my Dad on that day itself. It was nothing much but at least I did something to make Mother's Day special for all mother's in my family- Mum, Kak Manisah and Nanny. But I'm somehow not quite satisfied. I wanted to do so much more but as luck had it, too many things occupied my time. 

I wanted to do something other than the usual presenting of a red rose bouquet, purchase a cute teddy bear to cuddle at night or even spend a dime on matching Mother-Daughter necklaces. I wanted to do something Different. All that was different with what my mind came up with were just little petty changes that didn't really match up to my mum. So, it was forgotten. Maybe it wasn't the perfect timing. Just maybe. 

Oh well, there's always another Mother's Day to look forward to. I hope. 

From the setting of the sun

I'm currently sprawled on my bed, with my arms and feet wide apart - I look like a snow angel, so to speak. I'm in need of the coolness of night. Just when I'd planned to spend the rest of the evening being drilled into my textbooks, I find out that the electricity around my area is out. So all that is available for me to make use of is the rays of the sun about to set. What perfect timing for me to enjoy simplicity, no?

You know the saying, "Evil prevails when good man fail to act"? In my pitiful case, when everything else seems to be going wrong, I'm enlightened by a spark or two of inspiration. Just like a beacon on a dark, cold and starry night. This is the way it is for me, always have been. No need for brainstorming at this hour.

As the aforementioned, thoughts and inspiration for another blog entry of the week is succeeding in flowing from my bubbling mind to the blank page on my laptop.

Now, where do I begin?

Ever had the feeling of your mind being too overcrowded with so many things to say, and so many people to address them to, only to realize that it has been forgotten within a split second? I have. There are just so many things that my heart is urging me to voice onto this little nook of mine but I don't seem to know where or how to begin. My thoughts are all a blur and I'm finding it pretty arduous to even think straight and put my jumbled-up thoughts into order. I need my daily dose of caffeine, I suppose.

The above goes to everything else except what I have had and stayed in my mind for the past few days- Traits I inherited from my parents.

From my Dad, the strongest trait I've inherited from him would probably the love for traveling. At a very young age, I was lucky enough to have been given the opportunity to breathe in different environments and be in a complete different country as my Dad was a flight attendant (now, an IFS). I still do get such advantages and I appreciate being somewhere other than home even more now as I've grown up - I ain't a little girl anymore. I suppose you can say he is the reason being an air stewardess is apart of the few other choices I've yet to decide upon for my future.

Besides the love I have for traveling, I've also inherited his determination. Although, the determination I have in everything I do is not as strong as his. I tend to just surrender to failure and give into fear, every now and then. But when I'm in the zone and focused on that particular prize, having determination is the only thing that keeps me from back-sliding. I'm not a quitter, even though I may occasionally give up. Even more, I'm a perfectionist. When things don't go according to the initial plan or when I fail to succeed in what I was doing, I'm pretty hard on myself. Because I believe that when I have my mind set towards something, I know I can do it.

Then there is the spendthrift gene which I obviously inherited from my Dad as my Mum is a pretty smart spender. Although I inherited it from my Dad, this gene is probably more dominant in me than it is in him. Well, there's no surprise there. I'm a girl, after all. And my guilty pleasures are shoes, bags, and clothes. I can never have too much of them - heck, any girl can NEVER have too much of them. I may not have been brought up with a silver spoon in my mouth and may not have been blessed with hundreds of luxuries, but when it comes to shopping, it just comes naturally. My Dad and I enjoy basking in our own luxuries, and although sometimes it may burn holes in our pockets, it wouldn't be a sin to treat one's self to something nice every once in a blue moon, would it?

To add on to the aforementioned traits, the strongest would be having Creativity in my blood. Dad is more creative with his words and speech whereas my Mum, she is more creative with her hands such as doing arts and craft and whatnot. And thanks to the two of them, I'm blessed with what I now do best; Singing and Writing. I discovered my gift of singing when I was in Primary School. I'd print out lyrics of songs sung by Britney Spears and attempt to sing them until I new each song by hard, each time the teacher wasn't present in class. As years flew by, I began making an attempt to sing songs that needed more soul, and strong vocals. Most of the time, I did surprisingly well for such a young girl. And when I didn't, I'd push myself to try again until I was satisfied. A few years after wards,  I discovered my passion for writing. I started off by writing lovely cards and presented them to my loved ones on special occasions. From there, I started blogging and then blossomed into writing more meaningful and inspirational entries. I'm embracing the gifts God has blessed me with and not allowing it to go to waste. Ever.

Last but not least, the emotional trait which I inherited from my Mum. Need I say more? I easily become an emotional wreck just by watching a good movie, hearing a meaningful song, reading an inspirational book or just by having a deep conversation. I know it doesn't sound like such a god trait to have but when it comes to pouring my heart and soul into something, having an emotional side is an advantage. When I write, I do the best I can to put myself in a reader's position and try to visualize what I, as a reader, would want to read to be touched or inspired. Often times, I succeed. I dig deeper and am inspired to touch people through my writings. The same goes for the songs I sing. I'm a sucker for songs which are meaningful and inspiring. When I sing them, I don't only sing them out of the passion I have for singing but out of the drive to want to touch people, to want to be the cause their heart-strings are tugged.

Some people don't ever like admitting the fact that they are just like their parents. And some just completely ignore the thought of it. But as I've pointed out a few dominant traits I inherited from my very own parents, I'm coming to terms that I'm apart of them and in me, they would see a part of themselves.


Full stop.

Wishful thinking

Where do I even begin? These past few days have been tough, tougher than most days. My mornings haven't been as sunny and bright as usual and my nights, too, have not been starry and lit. It's pretty miserable, the feeling. My sleeping hours have been minimized and when I wake up in the morning, my face will be a dewy mess and will be complemented with dark circles under my eyes. If I were to head out in such a state, I'd swear people would run for their lives... Or plainly just cringe.

My life is not always like a fairytale, you know. A junior of mine answered a Facebook Social Interview question asking, "What song reminds you of Kristen Alyssa?". And she answered, Today was a fairytale by Taylor Swift. When I questioned her response, she replied that my life does seem like a fairytale. Being slightly pessimistic, I disagreed.

Because truth be told, it's not. Never has been.

 

If it's such a fairytale, then it's all camouflage baby! Sure, I may walk into a shop and instantaneously all eyes will be on me. The workers will willingly attend to my every whim and fancy with nothing but warm smiles on their glowing faces. I may get things done my way even if it took a little eye-batting and sweet-talking. Every once in awhile, a cute guy may come my way and approach me by being a complete gentleman instead of a howling wolf. And sometimes, after being a little rebel, I get away with it. But luck isn't always on my side, you see.

My life is really like a journey of endless crossroads. Being aged right smack in-between adulthood and teenage-hood, every step I take is a journey. It's filled with trials and tribulations, tears and heartache and... misunderstandings and false judgment. Although it is as such, I manage to live through each day because I have faith. Faith that everything in the long-run would be nothing but a smooth-sailing journey. Faith that The One for me will cross my path someday and it will be for Forever. Faith that I wouldn't face financial difficulties or poverty or even face being homeless. As faith means having a confident belief or trust in the truth or trustworthiness of a person, concept or thing. It also means having faith that the hardships we sometimes face in life are still endurable and bearable.

On another more updated note, my relatives from Singapore are in town for the weekend. Relatives from my Dad's side, to be exact. Although the memories I have of them are a little blurry, I managed to differentiate each of them. 'Twas only a couple of years ago when I used to pinch their chubby cheeks and run around the house playing along to hide-and-seek just for their sake - their grubby hands smudging and running through every single facial feature on my face. Annoying yet when they shoot their pitiful puppy eyes in your direction, how can you mutter a word other than "Aww..."? When it comes to the little ones, I can't help but be a fool and fall for their adorableness.

Today, it being their last day here in KL, we met up with them after church to have lunch. Berjaya Times Square was the chosen destination. Am not sure why but I'm guessing it had everything to do with the fact that there is an indoor theme-park - Cosmo World. It's pretty runned down for my taste in thrill and excitement but for the little ones, anything goes. Being the eldest cousins, I, along with my brother and sister had to babysit the younger ones. They were bouncing with energy so much that they could be compared to energetic hamsters in a cage, running on the wheel. It was as if they have just been set free after being caged for ages. They wanted to go on every ride, each at least twice. I was hesitant at first but after much pestering, I gave it. Everything was going well until I inquisitively wanted to try going on the Spinning Orbit (the one similar to a swing but worse) It was so tormenting, till' I cried. My head started throbbing and I felt nauseous. I don't suffer from Acrophobia but anything life-threatening or heart-racing... I don't fancy so much.

Whereas for the younger ones, the more life-threatening the better. Them, being at an age where everything seems out of this world, it is only natural for them to be inquisitive and curious about everything within their radius. Their kids, still growing and learning something new each day.

 I can only pray for them to grow up into fine young ladies and lad.

As for the picture of you and me love sometimes makes perfect, it now feels as if I'm on a never-ending roller coaster, yet again. While I've been refraining myself from all the worrying and long hours of crying, I've kept myself busy by helping to ease the burden and worry carried by a close friend of mine. She, too, is going through a similar situation.

Love is erratic and unpredictable, you know. One moment you are all head over heels and the next, you are falling from the skies. That's just the way it is. Love can't always be played safe. Sometimes you need to dive right into it to find what it is you have been missing. Anything can be done in the name of love, but one thing... Telling someone you love them and taking it back.

 If you ask me, it just proves that you have yet to experience the awesomeness that is Love. Because first of all, it's not just an insignificant word you can just throw around and expect it not to mean anything. It's a very deep, meaningful, heart-wrenching, happy, unpredictable word. And a very powerful one it is, too.

Let everything slide, take things one step at a time because at the end of that never-ending journey both of you have walked on, you both will be able to sit back and enjoy what you both have accomplished - growing in love and seeing it last.

united as one


It's just been a few minutes since I got back from such a lovely dinner at Happy Seasons. Trust Aunt Lydea to initiate an evening of dining out! Of course, that also means we were joined by Uncle Zani's parents and brother - all the more merrier.

Another day of eating out, which never seems to bore me. God, you've no idea how full I am right now! Just when I was about to start a crash diet, temptation overtakes me. Especially when dining in glamorous new restaurants, where the ambiance is perfect.

As the waiter's cleared the tables, everyone was still at their seats, laughing about the good old days. My grandfather (mum's side) was a bike-rider - nothing beats the thrill of it, so he claims. While lending my ears to eavesdrop on their conversation, I just couldn't believe it. Since, I've never been told about such experiences before. After awhile, the manager came to greet us - well, Uncle Zani, that is. After all the laughs they exchanged and complements given about the food, the manager insisted we help ourselves to ice-cream downstairs - which would be on him. These little cousins of mine were all-smiles!

And there's something else I'd found out. I seem to be finding out about a lot of things over dinner, ay? I can't believe Farid, from school is related to Amirul, Uncle Zani's nephew. What a small, small world this is. It was so good to have something in common to talk to Amirul about, too. We got along well.

But the one thing i was truly awestruck about was the drink I'd ordered - which had a tiny rosebud as a deco. So pretty ;p

For she's a jolly good lady

I'm happy to say I've arrived home safely - from Ipoh. Without the feeling of sleepiness or nausea having it's effect on me as I type.
Throughout the entire journey, falling asleep was somehow an impossible task. I suppose it's due to being entertained with my choice of soundtracks blasting through the speakers while singing along, having to munch on tit-bits every few minutes, admiring the greenery through the windshield - also, photographing when inspirations start to bloom in my mind.

We made our way down to Ipoh to celebrate our Grand Aunt Emily's 94th birthday. She may be aging, but her heart is still as strong as ever - I'm still amazed.

Daddy and his new girlfriend

When we arrived, we were welcomed by Un. Noel and Aunt Christina whom led us to our Hotel- The Majestic Station Hotel. We were even lucky enough to stay in their only suite - the very same room Tunku Abdul Rahman once stayed in. A few rooms from ours was Room 300 which bought back memories of a scary movie. Whilst straight ahead, displayed a vast beautiful garden.

That night, reservations were made at some cosy steamboat restaurant where we all gathered to celebrate a very special person's birthday. By all, i mean - Un. Larry, Un. Noel, Tennessee, Aunt Christina and the V.I.P, Aunt Emily. It's been awhile since we've gone down to visit them, so alot of catching up was done that night.

Not forgetting, having to indulge in the much too scrumptious cake.

As dawn set in, tears welled up our eyes as we had to say our goodbyes and depart, and god knows only too well I'm not one for goodbyes, at all. I start to get emotional and all teary - which will be inevitable. Just seeing Aunt Emily made the tears harder to be held back.


I don't think it's necessary to elaborate any more further for the highlight has already been stated.

All in all, it was yet again a visit never to be forgotten.

A memorable visit

I'm happy to say I've arrived home safely - from Ipoh. Without the feeling of sleepiness or nausea having it's effect on me as I type.
Throughout the entire journey, falling asleep was somehow an impossible task. I suppose it's due to being entertained with my choice of soundtracks blasting through the speakers while singing along, having to munch on tit-bits every few minutes, admiring the greenery through the windshield - also, photographing when inspirations start to bloom in my mind.

We made our way down to Ipoh to celebrate my Grand Aunt Emily's 94th birthday. She may be aging, but her heart is still as strong as ever - I'm still amazed.

When we arrived, we were welcome by Un. Noel and Aunt Christina whom led us to our Hotel- The Majestic Station Hotel. We were even lucky enough to stay in their only suite - the very same room Tunku Abdul Rahman once stayed in. A few rooms from ours was Room 300 which bought back memories of a scary movie. Whilst straight ahead, displayed a vast beautiful garden.

That night, reservations were made at some cozy steamboat restaurant where we all gathered to celebrate a very special person's birthday. By all, i mean - Un. Larry, Uncle Noel, Tennessee, Aunt Christina and the V.I.P, Aunt Emily. It's been awhile since we've gone down to visit them, so a lot of catching up was done that night.

Not forgetting, having to indulge in the much too scrumptious cake.

As dawn set in, tears welled up our eyes as we had to say our goodbyes and depart, and god knows only too well i'm not one for goodbyes, at all. I start to get emotional and all teary - which will be inevitable. Just seeing Aunt Emily made the tears harder to be held back.


I don't think it's necessary to elaborate any more further for the highlight has already been stated.

All in all, it was yet again a visit never to be forgotten.

If only wishes came true

Tears stream down my face as I write this to you.
That's how much I miss you; wish you were near.
I love you Grandpa, I always will.

As I sit here, overwhelmed by my emotions,
I know your in a happier place.
My love will follow you wherever you go,
Oh how I loved you so.
I'd give the world to see your face.

Although I still feel sorrow and hate,
You can't fight fate.

You still hold a place in my heart,
Forever and ever, we will never part.

I still remember all the things we did throughout the years,
I suppose it's time to wipe away the tears.

I want you to know; I will never let you go.
My heart will always be with you.

Now it's time to say 'Goodbye',
But I promise we'll meet again, someday when I die.

This piece is dedicated to my grandpa as it is his birthday. He's been gone for two years now; funny how fast time flies by.
Since, he's someone whom I loved dearly, I thought I'd write him something that will put a smile across his face.

believe me when I say


Before you start to question about my absence via Internet or whatsover, I'd like to explain myself.

I'd done so to assure more time was spent on my studies, mainly. The results I'd obtained from the recent exam wasn't satisfying enough, in a way.
So, I'd decided to withdraw from any internet activities I possibly could. Well, at least I try.
But it's hard. Unable to blog for a few days, left me uneasy.

It's been a rather interesting week, so far. Literally.

But the climax of it all, just has to be the incident that happened yesterday.
I'd had my very first gastric attack - it's not something I'm proud of. I mean, after all the thousands of times I've been warned, advised by my family members and friends, I wouldn't have to face gastric, shouldn't I? But due to my lack of obedience and untameable curiosity, i now know how it feels - not pleasant.

Later on that day, we had dinner with Aunt Claudine, whom recently came back from Washington, to pay us all a visit.
It was nice having her around, after such a long time - her bubbly, witty self.
I even miss having to play with her kids, playing 'hide and seeks', and having to laugh over the most stupidest things - I miss them all.

my two aunt's :)

Aunt Sharon and grandma

she's who I confide my all in.

P.S - On op of that, i'd bought a few things from Diva. Temptation got the best of me.

Nothing's Fair.

I'm trying so hard not to hate my mother but her mood swings keep giving me whiplash.
like yesterday, i finally asked her permission t go for CG Outing at Crown Princess Hotel but she refused to let me go when she knew there wasn't an excuse not to. I've done my part, patiently waiting ill after my exam's are over and done with but why can't she let me go? She even promised!
She friggin gets mad at me for no reason. Like yesterday, when i came out through the door on my right hand side when i was sitting on the left, she got mad at me for that! how unbelievable! Dad was right, we should ask JJ & Rudy to prank her someday cause she has anger management problems!
And when my gos against her wishes, she doesn't mind but when my sis and i do, she becomes this whole other monster inside of her. Wat the heck?!
The the woman we've been living with through our whole entire life.
I know she's my mum and everything and like they all say, she does it because she loves us. But seriously, that line is getting real old!
I'm just happy i've got other people to turn like Nanny and Aunty Sharon to instead of being miserable with her.
I just pray that god gives me more patience for me to deal with her.




P.S - i'm miserable!