Love for craftwork and pretty things

There is a certain appeal for arts and crafts.
No, I am no artiste.
I cannot sketch great works of art worthy of being hung in a gallery.

But arts and crafts are something I have always been willing to spend time on.
If you left gift giving up to me, you'd end up with a handmade-something which I laboriously hunched over for hours and hours. Sometimes it'd be nice, sometimes it'll look like a three-year-old plowed through it.

Why do I still do it, then?

Well, you might be lucky enough to have people in your life willing to spend money on you.
I will be the one willing to spend my time, my thoughts, and try to show you how I think of you.
Each gift, was carefully thought of. As I crafted it, I had you in mind.

Whether it is a hand-written note
Or a hand-made bookmark
Or a birthday sash
Or a doodle


For those moments I spent labouring over them, I had you in mind.

Money I can earn, I can replace

But the time I spent crafting away my pieces of memories; those are forever spent to your name.

And I regret none of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leading up to

1.       Calm

2.       Regret

3.       Bitter

4.       Triumphant

5.       Bitter/martyr

6.       Distraction

7. Sensitivity

Random IV (I think)

She gave me a seat in a crowded train. I gave her a card saying thank you. I think she's easily the happiest card receiver I've encountered so far. It made my day. I hope I made hers.


********************


The restaurant people remembered me. Always the same order, same specs. They remembered a couple of weeks ago I gave the cashier a card. She was happy to receive it. She told everybody. I gave another to the drinks maker. Then the big boss asked about it and I gave him one. As I was walking away with my food, the cooks called out "Come back! Come back! That's not your order!" Apparently they saw me walking by and they wondered how could I leave when my order was still in their woks. The big boss apologised profusely for the confusion.


**********************


They existed and managed well before me, and they shall continue and move on without me.


**********************


My body smells weird when it sweats. Not the normal people BO..a weird kind of smell. Why??????


**********************


Words are just sounds that we make that coincidentally make the same meaning to the people we are making the sounds to. Yet it is still bizarre how a dialect can be made up of mostly sounds, and that the sounds itself have no definition. If it were translated in a movie, it would look something like this:

(Sound of disappointment + irritation)

(Sound of surprise + disbelief)

(Sound of irritation + regret)

Do you get it?


***********************


The new 300 movie Rise of an Empire was unsatisfactory. Not bad, but unsatisfactory. The first one was full of manliness, war tactics, excellent fight scenes, slight glimpses into characters that was just enough to give you a story line without making things confusing. This new one is more of filling the gaps in the storyline of the first movie, and it involved a lot of narrative retelling. Not the best path chosen, though. The fight scenes was purely blood and gore, and the last run on the horse remind me of my brother's Temple Run.

But at least I watched it.


***********************

It's an occupational hazard..

Ask yourself, if and when you have children:

Why do you send them to educational institutions? Whether it is school, tuition, ballet lessons, piano lessons,.. why?
Is it so that your child's time is occupied whilst you slave away at your workplace?
Is it so that you may boast that you can afford to send your child to such places?
Is it to boast that your child attends such places?
Is it so that your child learns?

Ask then, what do you expect your child to learn?
2+2=4
Humans have 10 toes
How to remain en point
How to play Mozart's finest pieces
How to write the most beautiful and most endearing sonnets

How about manners? Where does you child learn that?
Where does your child learn to have respectable character?
Where does your child learn what is considered respectable character?
Where does your child learn to assume responsibility?
Humility, grace, founded Morales?
Where does she learn that?
Do you want her to learn that at all?
Do you, as a parent, raise your child well enough so that when they are out in the world, no one else has to give your child such lessons?
... to say please and thank you
... to shut their mouths when they have nothing good to say
... to speak up when they have reason and justifications
... to admire good character, rather than material possessions
... to respect, but not blindly obey
... to understand, and to convey understanding

We cannot do this alone. It takes an entire society to raise just one child. The society shapes that child as she grows. What society, you ask? Well, it is whatever society you place her in. It is the words you utter at home, it is the rules you impose upon her, it is in the excuses you make for her, it is in the places that you send her.

Her world, is as big or as small as you make it. You are the parent. You have the most control over what she is exposed to. You are her first hero. To her, you can do no wrong. She is the child, incapable yet of fair judgement. What she sees in you is all she can conceive as what is right and what should be. You are her protector, her saviour..and should you teach her that she is invincible behind your protective shield, she will always cower behind it. Then when will she learn to fight her own battles? When will she learn to suffer and heal from her own wounds? When she is old enough? When will that be?


There are parental roles that educators cannot fulfil; as is vice versa. In an ideal world, everybody understands that. But we live in anything but an ideal world..and if there is a lesson to be learnt here, perhaps the first will be that bravery doesn't always mean to stand up and fight.

On your mark, get set,,,,wait,,,,please wait.

Gather round my dear children, and let me tell you stories. Forgive me for right now I wish to be selfish. I want to make you laugh, I want to make you ponder. I want to remind you that we had good times together. I want you to hear stories of yourselves from long ago. Stories you may not remember, but now you will know how much I remember them. How much I treasure them. How much I think of you, and how much I treasure you. Each one of you. I look into your sparkling eyes, waiting for me to begin the next story. Hungry for the amusement you gain from what I say. Forgive me my little baby dragons, for I want to see those eyes sparkle. There are only three left.

 

 

Oh God…what have I done.

A disheartening morning.

That moment when you let go, and you immediately regret it.
You gave it plenty of thought, rationalized it in every way possible.
But the moment that it became real, and reality began to sink in,
You realize that you want things back the way they used to be.
Happy days.
Glorified celebrations.



You want it so badly.

If only it ended.

I feel angry. Angsty. Abused. I feel your fists raining down on me as I held up my arms in a feeble attempt to block out your blows. I can still see in flashes, each pounding, and each jolt of pain. Until at some point it became numb. I became numb to the pain. I couldn’t get up. Nor was there any lower to sink to. I closed my eyes; waiting for it all to be over. Instead I could feel you digging into my flesh, and I knew you had broken skin. The soaking, flooding gash of blood pleased you. I was weak, and you are strong. It was my duty to endure this pain, as it was yours to inflict it. Then it ended.

Wisdom of grandmothers.

We were sitting down at dinner when my grandmother remarked: "Your kids give you joy to your life, don't they?"

I was stunned for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"Well, if you didn't have them, there wouldn't be much spark to it now would there?"


That cut deep, grandma.... that cut deep...

Unfounded panic.

It drove me crazy! I couldn't find his name after that in my searches. Like, did he remove me or something? Who was it to? Do I know that b*tch?

Adolescent children and their pains.

He was moaning and groaning from the moment he came in. Mama looked over at him. That's how he usually is..every time he comes to Mama, some sort of ailment or woe will pop out. It's his way of saying "I love you. Now love me back."

But Mama knows better than to just ask "What's wrong?" No, that won't do the trick. He doesn't want all his siblings to hear him mumbling and moaning mishaps to Mama. He isn't weak. Mama knows her baby all too well. Instead she asks "...and where did you come from?"

He looks up and starts counting out on his fingers the various eateries he went to. Is he whining of a tummy ache? Oh no, see..in order to ensure nobody sees him as weak, he must first answer Mama's questions: Where did you come from. Now that the formalities are aside, he is now free to tell Mama what is really bothering him.

"My friend knocked me with his elbow"

"Ok, dear.."

Mama thought it was over, so she turns to the other children as she stirs the pot for that night's dinner.

"When he knocked me, I straight away fell to the ground."

"Oh no....u poor baby"

Mama again turns over the soup to make sure the bottom wasn't scalded.

"I blacked out for, like, five minutes!"

Ok, he really needs this. Mama turns to him.

"...and how tall was this friend? How could his elbow come in contact with your head?"

"I don't know..we were running towards each other while playing basketball, then all of a sudden everything went black."

"Is your vision alright?"

"yes"

Baby pretends to scribble away nonchalantly. Mama thinks it's over, so she again turns to the other children.

"It still hurts here"

Oh God, he really is my baby, isn't he? No, I have to remind myself that  only borrow him for a while; that out there, there is a mother who birthed him and raised him years before I ever knew him.

"Have you told your mother?"

"Do you think she would care?"

Mama gets it now. Here is his place. Here is where he depends on someone to care. And true enough, yes, I care. But, I don't exactly know how. So here goes..

"Are you sure your vision's alright?

*looks up at the board* "Yes"

"Do you have back pains?"

*stretches back* "No"

"Do your ears feel bunged up?"

"No"

"Well, the pain will subside, I suppose..how many friends were with you just now?"

*counts with fingers* "Seven"

"Did they carry you off when you fainted?"

*scrunches up entire face* "Why would they carry me off?"

"I don't know... aren't they supposed to carry you off to the side or something? Then what did they do?"

"They waited for me to get up"

"Well tell them that next time they should carry you off to the side"

*obviously irritated* "Why would they do that? It's in the middle of a field! What would run over me? A stray rabbit??"


Oh my darling sweet little baby Cyclops..how far we've come since the days of "I hate you" and crouching in corners in fits of anger. I love that you come to me for comfort and support; you have no idea how much I have learnt from you.





To love when the love comes easily, is a pleasure.
To love when the love is fought for, now that, is a blessing.

In less than a few minutes.

It was yet another mee*yawn*ting. I had stayed up late last night. I was sleepy, and hungry. Ughh..bad combo. I look at the board in front, the words were swimming like fish. Fish cooked in spicy gravy. There would be bits of chili in the gravy. And soy sauce. Yum. I found my foot stirring in circles like it was stirring the gravy. The carpet felt rough under my soles. I should’ve brought my socks. I was wearing red socks earlier. I should’ve brought them with me. Now I am sock-less in this rough carpeted room. I looked down at the sheaf of papers in front of me. My pen emits a blueberry scent. Later maybe we’ll have cake. With icing. Yum. Oh now my tummy grumbles..

 

The lady in front was saying something, then I heard my name. Oh shoot! I had to say something. Quick, brain! Open your mouth and garble! Garble garble garble. Ok done. Hmm..I wonder if I’ll have room for dessert. What did everyone else bring? Would my mincemeat be enough for everyone? Will they even eat it? I wonder if I should reheat it later. I’ll haveto change the Tupperware first then, if I want to reheat it. I already ruined one of the triplets by putting it in the microwave. The lid just cracked open. It couldn’t adjust to the rapid temperature change. Hullo! Here’s something smooth on the carpet. I wonder what it is…what could be under the table during a meeting like this? I hope the meat doesn’t go too soft and smooth. Mincemeat is always nicer if it’s just a bit chunky.

 

Oh, what are we doing now? I look at the board. I see everyone is scribbling. I should do that. Scribble scribble scribble. Eh? They’re still scribbling. Never mind. I’ll just hang tight. Ok, this is awkward. Scribble scribble scribble. Now that feels better. Ah! There’s that thing again. It’s smooth; perhaps it’s a bag. I wonder whose bag it could be. Feels like leather. Faux leather. I stretch out my toes..let’s see how big it is. Maybe it’s the box-type bags, or the thinner bags you could pinch. I could try to pinch it with my toes.

*Pinch.*

 

Oh God, it just ran away. The bag just ran away.

 

 

What the hellllll?

 

Was it like, some giant lizard? How big could it be? It felt pretty big. Oh God, if anyone else sees it they’ll have a fit. Chaos will break out. People will be on the tables screaming and begging for their lives to be spared. I’d have to be the hero and catch it. But what shall I use? Perhaps I could cup the dustbin over it. Suddenly I see a pair of eyes shoot their vision towards me. Then it hit me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was my colleague’s foot.

 

 

 

 

Bursts of rage.

I am angry. I am extremely pissed. But I will keep it to myself; not because I am strong, not because I am fake, not because I reserve my feelings. I will keep it to myself because I have better days to look forward to. Days where all this will just be petty and insignificant. All this will just be a speck in that magical decanter we call the past. But do not forget, that today I am highly aggravated. I will smile; not because I am happy, but because I will not allow for even the chance that you might be able to help me. I have lost faith in you. I will not share my pains with you because I consider you foolish and unworthy. Yes, I am being cruel. Just as cruel as you have been to dismiss me in my hurt, and to ridicule me for my feelings. I hope my words find you and in turn you experience hurt. Perhaps then, you will understand what it means when I say I am pissed.

Assuming that I am strong.

 

What if I told you, that even strong people struggle sometimes. It takes a lot for us to summon the courage to look up and say out loud that we are in need of help, of comfort, and of support. It takes courage for us to admit to ourselves that we have fallen, and that we may get up ourselves, but please do not laugh at out scrambles to get back on our feet. We may pretend that it does not hurt, but we are human as well, and when it hurts, then it hurts. Do not mock us because we are hurting. It makes us build our shell just that much thicker. Do not dismiss our futile attempts to scream for help, for it is the only voice we have left. We are no longer strong in this moment. Help us.