Little Sparks, Big Fires

Gambling debts, stupid gambling debts!  I don't understand how some people can spend so much of their energy and time on speculating or physically involving in any game of chance!  The probability of getting a win is too small for me to even give it a try.  Mrs Green was mumbling to herself.  How could she get over the frustrations quick enough, so that Mr Green did not have to question her about  her mumbling and muttering in her sleep. 
Mr Potter was her half brother and not only that, he was a pain in the neck for Mrs Green these past five years when he had shifted into the neighbourhood.  He was recently divorced and had such a great amount of gambling debts that his wife left him with his sole daughter aged five. When Mrs Green refused to help him, he would threatened her with her well kept secret.  Mrs Green would die if he had told the world about her connection with Mrs Pinkie and everybody would know about her fakeness.  That fateful afternoon Mr Potter had come to her house by the back door, after he had seen Little Boy leaving the house and Mrs Pinkie was being very quiet, presumably having her afternoon nap, a well known habit to all those who knew her.  He had come again to ask for financial help.  Mrs Green had lost her temper because the problem seemed unceasing.  Mrs Green had long wanted to go on a holiday but the debts never got paid up , instead they kept mounting.  When will she ever going to have money for herself?
Refusing to hear her brother's pleas, she shoved him out of the door.
He refused to budge and on seeing the chopper knife on the floor at the side of Mrs Pinkie's back door which was just next to hers, she bent down to pick it up and waved it at him.  She had time to wonder why the knife was there, and a quick thought told her that it must be Little Boy who often left things lying around after using them.  Mr Potter was not frightened at the warning or the knife directed at him and as he tried to walk towards the back door again when he was outside, he tripped over the cat as it tried to rub its body on his leg.

Things happened too fast and the next moment saw Mr Potter holding the knife which had found its way into his raw flesh.  Blood was all over his  shirt and bulging stomach and Mrs Green's face went white with fright.  Mr Potter staggered and ran off towards his house a few yards away.  Back in his mind, he knew he could not die leaving his half sister in shame.  His mind was still in control although he was getting weak by the huge amount of blood that was slowly wetting his hands and clothes. He struggled to open the door of his house.  He could not see the key hole now but he managed to open it.  He could not stand on his feet anymore.  Suddenly it was a blackout and he fell on the floor with a thud.  He could still hear noises around him  but they were getting fainter.

Mrs Green got to her senses.  She must get the mess cleaned up.  She mopped clean of the blood and before she could check around , Mr Green was already at the front door.  What's wrong with you?  Mr Green asked.  Have you just seen a ghost?
What ghost?  I am feeling nausea, that's all.
   

Little Sparks, Big Fires

It was an accidental death. I never wanted him to die. Yes, he had become very intimidating lately but that did not mean I wanted him dead.  Mrs Green was in  a turmoil. She neither ate nor drank.  The secrets were now too overwhelming to be silenced.  She needed to let them out but that would put her into jeopardy.  But they could not put her to jail for being jealous and for taking vengeance on her dead parents, she thought.  It would be better than to be accused of a murder she had not committed.
She thought back of all the years during which she was constantly envious of Mrs Pinkie.  She did not understand why she could have everything while she had to suffer living from family to family. Her mother had given birth out of wedlock to a pair of twin girls.  Her father could not marry her for he had a family already. Her mother later fell in love with another man and could only bring one of them into her new family.  Mrs Green was the other twin given up for adoption.  Her first adoptive parents died in a car accident when she was five, leaving her and a adoptive brother behind. Her adoptive brother , happened to be of the same age as she. He was adopted by his grandaunt.  She had never seen him since their parent's fatal accident because she was soon adopted  by a middle aged couple who could not have children.  The husband abused her and she had to run away from home one day.  Not long later, she had to go and lived in an orphanage where she often had fights and quarrels with the other girls.
However, things changed when she was in high school and she could live out on her own.  She worked hard to support herself and was awarded a degree.  She met Mr Green in high school but love did not developed until they were in the university.  All four of them , Mr and Mrs Pinkie,Mr Green and herself  were in the same high school.  All the while she knew Mrs Pinkie was her twin sister but she did not reveal it.  She made everybody think that she came from a very rich family in England and she was alone there for studies. She was living in a world of pretense.  Often, she would spy on Mrs Pinkie and make things hard for her.  Mrs Pinkie was too good to suspect anything.  Eventually by her evil plans, she managed to win Mr Green's love when he and Mrs Pinkie were actually high school sweethearts.

Little Sparks, Big Fires

By the time Little Boy was satisfied with what he had seen, he shrank back into his house slowly so that he would not make any noise. He cupped his sister's mouth only to be bitten by her milk teeth.  'Ouch! Are you crazy?' 'Mom, Meg bit me!'
As he straightened his body, from cringing in pain, he saw that his mother was already down.  She showered him , in low whispers, with lots of questions about what he had seen. Feeling important, Little Boy forgot his pain and told his mother  as interestingly as possible.  Of course, some parts were a bit exaggerated and his mother knew him too well to believe him totally. She forgave him because she knew he had always been such an imaginative child. It was not important anyway and she wondered why she had taken an interest at all. Just wait for the news in the morning papers tomorrow, she told herself.  She went back to minding her children and shooed Little Boy off.
Little Boy shot off to finish his homework in his room upstairs.  As he climbed up the stairs, he imagined himself a superhero flying in supersonic speed to save a damsel in distress. He saw his granny fast asleep on the bed and he loved the smell of the bath soap she used.  He went and pecked a kiss on her pale cheek and then wheezed off to his chair.  The 'damsel' thanked him for his help and bade him goodbye.  That was  a good ending.  He settled down to his homework.

Little Sparks, Big Fires-3

Little Boy had to look after his younger siblings while his mum busied herself dousing his feverish granny upstairs.  His granny had grown too heavy for her to lift up to sit on the wheel chair for her to wheel  into the bathroom. She had not the slightest energy left, considering she had to do all the household chores herself; dusting, washing, cooking, and running after the younger children.  Sometimes she felt she could hardly have any more strength to lift a feather!
Grudgingly, Little Boy stayed with the children though he liked very much to finish some of his school work of which his teacher had complained about.  He could not do his work then because his youngest sister would surely come and tear the pages off his book.  Mom, would you please hurry up!  I've got some homework to finish up!
Alright, alright!  I 'll soon be down.  You are always full of excuses.  Why didn't I hear you say about this homework this morning while you were out playing? You just wouldn't help your mom a little.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from next door.  Little Boy almost jumped out of his own skin. It sounded like somebody had just come in and flung open the door as if it was such a nuisance.  Not long after that, he could hear the sound of pots and pans dropping on to the floor. An earthquake had just happened over there.  Little Boy's mom was at the top of the stairs and  she asked him in a very unusual low tone what he thought it was.  Strangely, it was not often his mom asked him of any opinion.  She must had been too shock to believe her own conclusions.
Not waiting for his mom's approval, Little Boy went out of the back door with his little sister clinging tightly to his shirt, squealing in fright. She must had been frightened by the unusual loudness.  Little Boy peered into the house and he was just in time to catch a glimpse of Mrs Green. She looked horrible and it was the first time he saw her face without make-up.  He thought she looked like a ghost, or maybe she was.  He liked to imagine stories in his mind, like the one he read in the thrillers he borrowed from school.  Eventhough the language was a bit too difficult for him, he would skip words or sentences he did not know and hope to catch a bit of the story. 

My Stories: Little Sparks, Big Fires(Part 2)

My Stories: Little Sparks, Big Fires(Part 2): Both Mr and Mrs Pinkie left their house in hand cuffs. They took off in a police car and as the car left the lane in front of their house, ...

Little Sparks, Big Fires(Part 2)

Both Mr and Mrs Pinkie left their house in hand cuffs. They took off in a police car and as the car left the lane in front of their house, they could see through the side mirrors, their neighbours coming out their houses.  Mr Pinkie turned his head around and looked at the back of the car.  Soon the houses and people became too small for him to bother about them. The police car was later in the busy road of eight carriage ways. Fleeting thoughts went past his mind.  He refused to look into his wife's eyes.  Suddenly he felt extremely infuriated by her foolishness, but it quickly turned into pity for her. Mr Pinkie was not the type of person to hold grudges for too long.  He was a mild tempered person.  Even in such a situation, he was a picture of composure.  What on earth was she thinking?  What devil got into her to do such a stupid thing? And why was Little Boy crying when he recalled what he saw as the police car was leaving the houses.  He was adamant that he saw Little Boy crying and his mother was shaking his shoulders as if to demand for an explanation.  Probably Little Boy must had forgotten his errands again.
Mr Pinkie was calm.  He did not kill Mr Potter.  Why should he be scared?  He strongly believed that the truth should prevail.  There was so much work unfinished and his clients would be very disappointed with him.  His main worry was his work. He could not visualize the fact he was going to spend time locked up in jail.
Suddenly, Mr Pinkie laughed.  The whole car was rocking.  'Shut up', the officer sitting next to the driver shouted.  It was almost lunch time and the officer must had been very angry for having missed a good part of his break.
Little Boy was acting funny.  That was what his mother was telling his father the whole morning after the Pinkies had gone off to the police station. ' Little Boy, come here'.  'Now, listen'.  'You have the whole of Mrs Pinkie's house to look after'.  'Those are the keys there. You are to switch on the lights in the living room at night and to switch them off in the morning'. 'Tell the milkman and newspaper boy to stop delivering for three days until further instructions'. 'Do you get it?'   Mr Pinkie was only too glad that he had finally pass over the burden to his son.  Just as he had finished, Little Boy started to sob. 'Why?'  'You are not happy that you have to do this?'  'Alright, I will give you some pocket money for that'.  'No?'  'Ah, stop that crying.  What's wrong with you?' No answer from Little Boy.  He had started to cry uncontrollably.
'What? What dead mouse?'  'You put it in Mrs Pinkie's laundry basket?'
'Gosh! You...you good for nothing! '
'You are the cause of Mrs Pinkie's broken hip and now, that poor lady, have to suffer again.'  'Now, you feel really sorry for her?'  'Alright, then you do your job well.  Look after her house and her pet cat.'
' I want to get to work now.' Little Boy's father left the house shaking his head and muttering something about dead man's debt.  He had a lot of work in his hands.  Somebody had been calling all morning about a faulty washing machine that needed repairs and another was asking if he had finished repairing a recording set.  Damn it! He swore  under his breath.  He had worked on Mr Potter's TV set amongst some other things and he had not collected the payment yet.  How is he going to get paid when he is dead?  Life is hard when you have many mouths to feed. Little Boy's father was telling himself.  Why and how did it happen? Who has done it?  It was a mystery which he did not want to unravel.  Let the detectives do the work.
Drying his tears and trying hard to quell his own sobbings, Little Boy took off to Mrs Pinkie's house.  The back door was not locked as the couple left in a hurry.  Before he pressed the knob to lock the door, Little Boy went in to take the cat out.  The cat was searching for its female owner and must have felt something was missing.  It was hiding under a chair, refusing to move at first. It never liked Little Boy that much especially when he would drop her from a high place.  This time , strangely enough, it went to Little Boy.  'Come, Kitty, Kitty'. 'You wanna drink some milk?'  Probably it was missing its usual food.
As he was about to turn to go, he saw a framed photo on one of the shelves. Much to his surprise, in the photo of a group of high schoolers, he saw Mr and Mrs Pinkie standing on the same row as Mr and Mrs Green, except that Mrs Green was holding Mr Pinkie and Mrs Pinkie as well as Mr Green were standing as if they had never knowneach other. There was another man standing quite close by whom Little Boy felt he had seen him somewhere.  Now, where did I see him before? He was thinking so hard that he did not hear his mother yelling out his name.  Suddenly, a weird thought flashed across his mind but he had not the time to give it a further thought.  'I am coming, mum'.

Small Sparks, Big Fires

'Little Boy' was bored that afternoon; he just could not stay indoors as demanded by his ever so busy mother.  Sometimes he thought his mother  hardly ever considered he existed since he had learnt to do alot of things independently. Don't you go running away and you make sure you are around when your Pa comes back. He looked at his mother with his big dopey eyes and with his lips pouted. His mother refused to look at him because if she did, she would give in to him. He knew his mother's heart too well, but that afternoon his mother was not going to be tricked again. She did not want to be disappointed again.
The last time she gave in to his demands had such bad consequences that she would not trust him again.  She had allowed him to join his friends in a local skateboard competition, with the promise that it was going to be safe and accident proof, but he came back with a broken arm.  Enough was enough.  She had enough of work in the house, having to take care of a sick bedridden eighty year old mother, three more children of ages from one to six, and an always hungry husband. ' Little Boy' was the eldest, an eight year old  autistic boy. A squeaky sound interrupted the woman's thoughts. Squeaks again. As swift as a flash of lightning, 'Little Boy' ran to the kitchen.  He squatted at the sink cupboard.  He opened its doors and took out from inside, a wire cage used by his mother for trapping rats.  He expressed disgust at the huge black rodent in the cage and as he drew it out of the cupboard, he could hear his mother's equally excited voice. Take it out to the backyard! Take it out to the backyard!
He did not understand why his mother had to repeat her instructions so many times. Perhaps she was extremely scared of the animal herself. The poor animal was as scared as his mother.  It was running to and fro from one end of the cage to the other. Its beady eyes had no expression but its whiskers were twitching furiously. When 'Little Boy' finally put the cage down on the ground in the backyard, the house rat thought it could escape. It dashed into the wire cage again and again. Sometimes it stopped to nibble at the wire. You can't break the wire, stupid rat.  'Little Boy' teased.  He  forgot all about his boredom. His mother came out with a kettle of hot water.  Move away.
I am going to kill it with this boiling water before it sends an 'SOS' to its friends. That was how 'Little Boy's mother used to tell him; that if he needed help, he should send an SOS, that he should seek help and not keep his problems to himself. Perhaps it was her attempt to joke in such a horrible situation.  She was going to kill the animal.  How horrible!  Go away! Don't look! However, 'Little Boy' refused and with a glint in his eyes, he looked on.  He saw how the rat squealed, dashed against the cage  like it had been possessed by an evil spirit, stopped momentarily, and he even went on to observe how its legs became motionless as it laid in the cage. Horrible, horrible ! His mother yelled.  Why do I have to do this? I hate  it.
'Little Boy' did not understand why his mother had to be so upset about killing the dirty pest. Next time, let me do it Mum.  He requested.  There will be no rat in this house if we do not have left over food in the dustbin or in the drain! The trouble with you all. Wasting food. 
His mother was indeed angry that afternoon. While his mother was having her afternoon nap, 'Little Boy' took the dead rat out of the wire cage, using a pair of iron tongs. He did not know what to do with it at first. He was sure he would not want Mrs Green's big fat cat from the house next door to make a meal out of it.  Ah! He had a brilliant idea.  He decided to put it into Mrs Pinkie's laundry basket.  Mrs Pinkie was his other neighbour on the left.  He wanted to scare her.  He wanted to take revenge on her for she had always treated him badly. She had accused him of stealing her newspapers and bottles of milk.  'Little Boy' could not understand why she had made up stories like that.
The next morning, 'Little Boy's mother came into the house after she had hung out her laundry to dry, muttering something about Mrs Pinkie falling down and breaking her pelvic bone after she was scared by a dead rat in her laundrey basket.   She was extremely terrified of rats, especially dead ones.  Now, Mrs Pinkie was hospitalised and there was no one to look after her house.  Would you, 'Little Boy', go over to her house to feed her parrot and doggie? How did the dead rat got into the basket? 'Little Boy', don't you tell me you are the one that put the dead rat in her basket? No, Mum, no.  I threw the dead rat down into the drain, Mum.  Oh, that means it must be   Mrs Green's black cat that  carried it to the basket.  What an unlucky thing to happen! Poor Mrs Pinkie! 'Little Boy' was too shocked for words.
A month passed by.  Mrs Pinkie was back on her feet, though she still needed the crutches. Her thoughts had been wondering about what happened on that fateful day. She was removing the clothes from the basket and suddenly she saw a dead rat among the clothes. It was no ordinary dead rat; it was not one that had been killed by a cat because it would be mutilated or chewed upon.  She thought she had seen the same kind of dead rat down in a drain somewhere but she just could not recall where. Angry thoughts were directed at Mrs Green. Mrs Pinkie was sure it was Mrs Green who had put it there on purpose. She remembered how Mrs Green threatened her with a dead rat, knowing that she was terrified of it since childhood. Why would Mrs Green do that? It was something that happened about fifteen years ago. Mrs Green and Mrs Pinkie were childhood friends who grew up and went to the same high school together.  Somehow something happened that only both of them knew, Mrs Pinkie married Mrs Green's high school sweetheart.  Since then, both girls were enemies and they never in their wildest dreams knew they were to be neighbours living two doors away.  How they loathe the sight of each other and Mrs Pinkie would literally 'fume' when Mr Pinkie greeted Mrs Green. That whore! Who does she think she is?  Miss World? Always giving men the come on look? Can't see what is so attractive about her!  Mrs Pinkie just could not stand Mrs Green's confidence. The whole day would be hell for her husband should he dare to give any attention to Mrs Green.
Evil thoughts begin to develop in Mrs Pinkie's mind. I am going to show her who's boss.  Walking up and down the living room, still holding on to a crutch, Mrs Pinkie almost forgot the pain in her left pelvis as she thought of a plot. Quickly she got dressed to go out.  An idea was hatching. She was too excited to wait a day longer.  She walked out of the main door of her house, locking it before she left.
She hailed  for a taxi when she saw several of them waiting for its customers at a bay nearby. She instructed the driver to go to a hardware shop in town.  Soon she arrived and in her haste to go into the shop, she knocked into a balding middle aged man who was coming out in a hurry too.  The man tripped over the crutch Mrs Pinkie was holding  and both of them nearly lost their balances.  Mrs Pinkie was yelling on top of her head due to the sharp pain she suddenly felt when the man pushed her in an effort to stay upright.  Both started to quarrel.  The quarrel ended as fast as it started when Mrs Pinkie remembered what she was there for.  She remembered that man, a Mr Potter something.  She saw her husband talking with him once and they were not on amicable terms, if her memory was still good. Detestable man! She muttered under her breath.
Without much ado, she went into the shop and asked for a tin of red emulsion paint.  She did not have time to bargain, which she normally would do just to make sure the shopkeeper would not overcharge her unnecessarily.  She paid and left the shop, taking the same taxi she boarded before.  The driver was happy to see her again.  Soon, she was in her house.  She opened the tin and with an old brush which she dipped in, she managed to get some amount of red paint enough to  smear on anything.  She sneaked out her kitchen into her backyard, looked around to make sure nobody was watching and in quick small steps, she moved over to the wall where  Mrs Green had her favourite bedspread out for drying.  With a wave of her right hand a big blob of red paint fell on the beautiful blue floral cloth and it was such a huge stain that it would surely break Mrs Green's heart.  Mrs Pinkie was satisfied with what was done and feeling victorious, she went back into her kitchen.  She was elated and feeling exhausted from the day's activity, she sad down on her sofa in the living room to rest. 
She checked to make sure the brush and tin of paint was out of her husband's sight. She definitely would not allow her husband know anything of what she had done. Soon she was dozing off.  After some time, she thought she heard something in the kitchen.  Must be the cat looking for a rat! Pussy, Pussy, don't you bother me. She heard the kitchen door creaking but she was too tired to get up.
That evening there was much commotion in Mrs Green's backyard.  Mr and Mrs Green could be heard talking loudly about their bedspread. 'Little Boy' who had just come home from the playground
heard about the commotion. Ah, the red paint! He thought it looked familiar.  Yes, he saw Mrs Pinkie coming home that afternoon with a tin of red paint. He knew about it when the loud sound of the taxi's engine interrupted his concentration. Oh, brother! Why can't it be absolutely quiet for once? He wished he was living in an exclusive place like the one he saw during one of his errands he did for his father. 
Later that evening, there was another piece of news that made everyone shudder in fear.  Mr Potter was killed in a bloody murder.
He was slashed five times in the abdomen. His house was cordoned off by the police.  Almost everyone in the neighbourhood knew about it and were talking about it over dinner.  Mrs Pink was more than shocked.  I have just seen him this morning.  I knocked into him as I was coming out of the hardware shop.  He was quite rude this morning and I was wondering what had got into him.  Oh my, how scary! Mrs Pink rattled on at the dinner table. Mr Pink was puzzled as well.  He was in deep thoughts and was not aware of his wife's chatter
as he slowly chewed his food.  That evening everyone went to bed with an uneasy feeling that there was a murderer on the prowl around the neighbourhood.
The morning silence was broken by the sound of the siren from a police car, barking dogs and heavy foot steps.  There were visitors at Mrs Pink's doorstep.  Mr Pink opened the door and was surprised to see two police officers.  Quickly, Mr Pink invited the in and asked what was the matter. One of the officers sat down on a chair nearby and told him in a quiet voice that both he and his wife were suspected for the murder of Mr Potter. But why us?  We would never kill anybody! There's proof? What proof/
A butcher's knife?  Red paint on the floor?   Search the house?  Do you have a warrant to do that?  Alright, go ahead.  I am sure you cannot find anything.
The other  officer who had gone into the kitchen to conduct the search came out with the tin of red paint. Sir, this is the red paint that Mr Wong at the hardware shop was talking about.  It was the same one that Mrs Pink bought that morning Mr Potter was found dead.  The butcher knife was sold two years back and it came from Mr Wong's shop too. According to Mr Wong, there were only a couple of people in this community that bought this kind of knife.  Not many of them.  Could both of you come with us to the police station?
Hold on. I must call my lawyer first.  Mrs Pink was in tears.  She had just wanted to play a trick on Mrs Green.  Now it had backfired. What is she going to tell her husband?  What is the red paint doing in the house? When did you get this thing?  Don't tell me you are the one who smeared Mrs Green's bedspread?  This is ridiculous! Like life isn't hard enough!  We did not kill Mr Potter!  Yes, I quarrelled with him.  That's because he did not pay me for my services.  I repaired his TV and he hasn't paid me yet. But that is no reason for me to kill him!

What Did I Forget?

I am trying to remember now what it was I wanted to write an hour ago.  It was something very important , very interesting and intellectual. That much I can remember now.  I wanted to write it immediately as the inspiration came but I was called to attend to the yelping dog and the ever demanding 'other half'. Oh, what was it now?
Perhaps one day I will write about how I forgot to write what I forgot to write.
Sounds baffling.
What was it? What was it?
Nobody can help me except myself.
Should have jotted it down on a piece of paper or something.
How can I forget something so important.
Maybe I should leave it as it is now.  Next moment, next day or possibly in the next few days, the same inspiration may come.  By Grace of God, I hope it is something useful, meaningful and worthwhile writing.
What was it?

My Stories: Never Satisfied, It Must Be a Prompting

My Stories: Never Satisfied, It Must a Prompting: Often heard is that quite many people don't seem to be happy in their present situation, and often they will wish for greener pastures some...

Never Satisfied, It Must Be a Prompting

Often heard is that quite many people don't seem to be happy in their present situation, and often they will wish for greener pastures somewhere.
Probably the solution is not the drastic decision to physically move on to where one hopes to find
'paradise'.  However, it may be just a prompting that one  should do something in the present place to change the situation in order to achieve the so-called 'happiness' or 'comfortable' life. Just imagine if everyone becomes very mobile and there will be numerous movement from one continent to another.  Definitely a boost to the airline industry and the real estate agencies.On a smaller scale, some city dwellers sometimes pine for country living whereas some countryside people will yearn to go to the cities for the excitement and the amenities after a while. Instead of having this kind of 'unsettled feeling' unresolved year after year, decade after decade, something may have to be done.
  
Just as we hope ourselves to be all rounders, the towns or cities we live in should also be such.  They will ideally be ones that have a mix of the vibrant and interesting city life, and the serene, fresh countryside goodness. Wouldn't you like it if while on your hectic, almost mad rush to your corporate office somewhere on the high floors of the skycrapers, you get to pass by a stretch of farms, be it an animal farm, or vegetable farm or an orchard? You might even have time to get a bottle of fresh newly pasteurised warm milk from a dairy farm, or some fresh  fruits just plucked from the trees or  fresh vegetables on your way to or from work, whichever appropriate.  You might even laugh at the idea, at the suggestion to have farms when the land in the city is exorbitantly priced.  But who says it is going to be a large piece of land? It is killing two birds with one stone actually.  It will serve to function as a green lung as well as a place for busy city dwellers to get really fresh food.  On the other hand, the farmers will be able to reap more profit, doing away the middle man charges.That is what I call life worth living.  Working so hard at the work place, under great pressure to be productive, to perform superbly well and then we get rewarded with fresh air , food and water.


I think I am speaking in my dreams.  I think it must be one of my dreams remembered.



.

Aching Heart, No Way Out?

She is not the breadwinner, that is what the whole world thinks and probably says.  She is mostly confined to her home. That pleases her husband alot, though it is not her intention to She hardly bothers about him these days; it is not worth her energy to.  She will never be appreciated and on the contrary, which she had recently discovered, he is even suspicious.
What is annoying her recently is she is expected as before to contribute to the family's spending even though she is no more in the workforce, much to his 'credit'. When she was working a nine to five job, she was not supposed to work overtime, not even overstaying at the office for more than half an hour. At the end of every working day, on the dot at five, she was expected to leave the office to wait for him  to come and pick her from work so that she could go home quickly to cook dinner for the others in the family. It was awfully embarassing as she would leave the desk at the same time the boss would leave, sometimes a little earlier.
 Why overtime? Are you paid for it?  I don't understand what you are doing in the office the whole eight hours and still got to work overime.  I think it is an excuse.  You mean I am trying to avoid having to cook dinner. Oh, I won't be so bold as to have somebody else to cook my dinner.  I am no queen.  Others can be the queens or princesses but not me.  I am a cheapskate.  Oh no, that is not what I mean. Don't you go picking a quarrel with me.  No, I am just joking.  No, you are not the type that joke.  The squabbling went on.  She was already tired after her  office work.  She didn't understand why her husband could go on arguing with her, not being a gentleman at all.  She wondered why he had so much energy. Didn't he work today? She hadn't time for all this nonsense at all.  She rushed off to cook in the kitchen.
Damn!  They didn't take the meat out for thawing.  It was already seven.  Dinner's at eight.  She took the chopper and with a heave, she split the slab of meat into two, then into fours and finally into eights.  No  more time to cut into smaller pieces.  With 'superwoman' speed and strength she managed to cook rice and three dishes for a family of eight adults.  By the time she bathed, changed into home clothes and came down for dinner, the food that she had prepared was almost gone.  She was left with a few leaves of choy sum out the whole plate of them, two broken off pieces of meat and a few shreds of beans, enough for her to eat with a half bowl of rice.  She kept her cool. Nobody apologised,and everybody seemed oblivious of the fact she hadn't eaten yet or she was the one who cooked except the mother-in-law and husband. Does she want to make a fuss? No, she remembered what her father taught her.  Tolerance.  Harmony in the family.
Now, she understand why her father loves her more. She was always the one giving.
 They are renovating the house.  He is paying for the paint, he says.  About the brickwall, how would you like it to be? Draw me the picture.  Oh, for this, we have to do this and that,but  she was not interested as to how he is going to do it. She won't understand what je is telling her. Surely that isn't what he meant for her to listen literally.  He is implying the costs involved.  He is hoping that she will pay for it.  Closed topic.  They will just forget about making the brickwall.  She is not the one working now but she is expected to pay for many things.  She wishes she can get away from all these. From having to bear the burden.  When she was earning a stable income, he had to spoil it by saying all the bad things.  He even said that those who work overtime in the office were taking opportunities to have office romances, touching each other when everybody has left the office.  How could you think like this?  You mean to say that all office workers who work overtime are such lowly people? How could you have such dirty thoughts? So, only people who works from home are virtuous people? Many epsiodes of senseless jealousies recurred.  Involvement of the 'tall order', namely mother-in-law, left her weak in defense till she gave up totally.  She might as well join the many unemployed, and soon enough, she was being categorised as 'stupid' , 'you don't know anything' or 'you can't do anything right'.  Now they are satisified.  Insecured people hate your successes, that is all I can say about them.  Don't mind them.  Just focus on God and doing right.

My Stories: Of Balsams and the 'Ginseng' Plant

My Stories: Of Balsams and the 'Ginseng' Plant: The  right hand of a female flower enthusiast has strewn some seeds of the balsam plant randomly over the  flower pots at a corner...

Of Balsams and the 'Ginseng' Plant

The  right hand of a female flower enthusiast has strewn some seeds of the balsam plants randomly over the flower pots at a corner of her house.  Those were the prospective producers of deep red and bright pink blooms of the newly found interest.
A week passed. Many tiny seedlings have sprouted.  The lady was going to let nature take its course; just  as what her garden was befittingly themed, 'Miniature Wilderness'.  What a naughty idea it was, she thought.  Soon, there were going to be critters coming although she was not expecting many varieties. At least I could get some company in the early morning, she thought to herself, when the house  would be as silent as a graveyard; after the children have all left for school and the 'grumpy bear'  has gone to 'hunt' for the day's provision. 
Then, the balsam plants were getting taller and leafier.  She thought she heard the 'ginseng' plant gasping for breath.  She parted the bigger balsam plants to reveal an inconspicuous straggly 'ginseng' plant hidden away.  How pathetic! It has lost its glory to the stronger balsams.
 Now, the faithful 'ginseng' plant has hardly any green leaves left and its tiny purplish flowers are a shameful sight.  The blooms have no chance to reach maturity, and they have all dropped, failing to open their buds.  The plant is obviously deprived of nutrients.  Oh, I must save it fast.  I do not want it to go 'extinct'.  My poor 'ginseng' plant! You have served me well by giving me the most beautiful and the daintiest of purple flowers, and I remembered how happy you have made me.  How could I forget!
She sets off to cut off some of the balsams' leaves to make sure the 'ginseng' plant gets its share of sunlight.  In my world, there is going to be equality for all.  Everyone has a share of this world, she tells the plants, the critters which had come by and the tiny dog that is watching all her actions nonplussed. Ah, there it is! Balsam, you won't die with this little sacrifice, neither will 'Ginseng' with its uncomplaining and generous sharing. No boundaries of any sort, probably some physical barriers, no political parties, no religious divides,  just simple, plain old survival rules, with Mother Nature watching over.

A Comical Situation

Suzy was rushing to go to work in the morning.  Argh, the stupid dress code at the office.  No pants or pants suit but nothing said about mini skirts.  Clearly, the regulation was imposed by an MCP(male chauvinist pig, if you have not known what it stands for).  Okay, I am going to wear that short skirt, eight inches above my knees, thought the twentyish Suzy.  Suzy's thigh bones are exceptionally long, which is not unusual for a 174 cm tall woman. That eight inches above the knees length of the skirt did not looked at all mini on her.
When Suzy arrived at the office building which was about five metres from the bus stop, she could feel several men looking up at the escalator she was on.  She wondered about what amount of pleasure they could get by looking up at someone's bare thighs early in the morning. As she walked towards the entrance of the office, she was greeted by the dear and ever cheery receptionist who gave her a 'wolf' whistle, making her chuckle.  The receptionist had dolled  up to comply with the management new rules that everybody must put on a 'professional' look. Professional look, my foot! Suzy swore. Now, every woman in the office looked more like a hooker. The computer analyst had her lips painted so red that they looked as if she was inviting kisses. The accountant had her rouge on her cheeks so unprofessionally done that they looked like two red birthday eggs that Suzy's mum used to make for her lunar birthday. 
That was in the eighties.  Nowadays, nobody cared so much about dress code for women.  We go to office in comfortable, presentable and clean attire, be them slacks or dresses as long as they do not provoke or arouse any untoward  feelings in men. If one dresses sexily, don't regret if one gets sexual harrasement from one's colleagues. Better be safe than sorry.

My Stories: The Forsaken Promising Future

My Stories: The Forsaken Promising Future: Our children are so intelligent that we want so much for them.  We want to provide them with what we have not been able to get when we were...

The Forsaken Promising Future

Our children are so intelligent that we want so much for them.  We want to provide them with what we have not been able to get when we were their ages.  The best education, the healthiest food, the most fun-filled weekends, the best doctors, the most conducive environment for an ideal upbringing, and the list goes on.  However, most parents are not super human beings to be capable of meeting these desires for their children.  Some settle for moderation, after weighing the pros and cons. A few stuck to their idealistic dreams; almost irrational dreams.  
For those who are stubborn about their dreams, and the number of like individuals are on the increase,  of which the mass media has a part in ensuring these dreams are kept, the state of matter is not that up to mark.  While one may desire something, it does not mean all other factors are going to fall into one's plans as one hopes.  A father/mother may have a very lucratic career to supply him/her with the monetary means to materialise his/her dreams, but he/she may not have the quality time to spend with his/her child. That means the child will be deprived of a father's/mother's perfect love in the form of companionship.  Consequently, it is a downer with respect to the child's upbringing. 
The  child will always be missing his/her parents and he/she will brought up by individuals other than his/her own parents.  He/She will pick up habits, ideas or ideology from people other than his/her own parents. Usually parents will experience a barrier between their own child and themselves after long or frequent absences. Most of the time these influences are not as favourable as the couple hope to be, as expected of most individuals who are always suspecting the good intentions of other people.  All these pose as a form of stress to the parents especially the mother whose maternal instincts are too strong to be satisfied with the care given by another individual other than herself. It is quite a tough and stressful role for parents to be able to balance a very successful career with family life.  That is why nowadays, marriages are getting broken and children forsaken. Disappointed wives, overworked husbands, crying neglected children and forgotten old parents become part and parcel of modern living. All for the sake of progress.
It is a very tough ride and only very few can make it.  Those who are on easier rides are those who manage to balance the two well and usually, the degree of success will be measured in accordance to the amount of non-sacrifice too. Don't sacrifice anything for the children and family, stay put at your job, and definitely, you are on your way up the level of corporate success, that is if you are working in a corporate office. Another reason for the reluctance of some women to give up their careers is always the fear of unfaithful husbands who will later leave them cold for another woman. How sad.
The group of people who have happy children are what you call the 'could have been', meaning they could have been the top-notched executives who have forgone all for the sake of their families.  Some of these women have spent years of education and also have years of working experience.  We may wonder whether there is ever going to be a different situation in years to come. Is there ever going to be a time when women can go on with their dream careers without worrying about their family too much but just work for the benefit of the nation and community? 
Is there ever going to be a situation when schools,  school buses, public places among many other places are absolutely safe? Are teachers going to be like 'mothers in schools' , truly caring for their pupils as they will care for their own children, imparting true , reliable knowledge and inculcating in the children under their charge good moral habits and civic mindedness?  Are schools going to be built in the best location or locality? Are they going to be built on top of hills, where it is breezy, away from the busy, dangerous traffic? Is the school guard or housekeeper a person with a  trusted backgound? Is the canteen operator a person who has a loving heart and who cooks and serves the food as if hes/her own children are also eating it? 
If the community is not willing to love our children, maybe we have to let the state take over.  Maybe we will have really large state owned care centres for children from infants to 12 yar olds. Maybe we will have prim and proper, responsible wardens to oversee these children while their parents are at work, somewhat like what the communist countries used to do. Maybe we will have our own version, a democratic one,  or a few of them , each suitable for the different religious background, so that everyone will be comfortable and happy, no discrimination, no stepping on another's toes, having due respect for each other's differences, for the sake of our children.  Yes , for the sake of our children. That is really funny but maybe that is how some of these problems are going to be solved if in-laws, relatives, friends, baby sitters or maids, private daycare centres or what else they have , all fail and people just cannot go to work without worrying their heads off. Babies being killed, abused and abandoned by crazy babysitters or maids, babies mishandled by careless daycare centre operators, small children raped by bus drivers or school guards or even step relatives, are news that are becoming more often heard these days.How exasperating!  Surely there is a better way for our children.  They are depending on us to think of a way.  They are depending on us. Let's not disappoint them further.

And Yet Another About the Problem of Water

Once Free, Now With Added Costs, and Really Clean Water is Rare

Water Crisis-No one Can Escape It If We don't Do Something About It

One is One, Two is Two; Get down to Honesty

One of the common mistakes all little children will make is telling little lies.  Yes, the lie may be very small but if not corrected immediately, the child may think it is so easy to get away with it and may do it over and over again until he or she gets older.
In actual fact, they learn to tell lies from adults, probably their own parents, grandparents, uncles or aunts or older brothers or sisters. 
Bob told his son that if 'so and so' called ,' tell him that I am not  at home'.  'Don't tell him I am sleeping'. 
Why, daddy?  asked the little boy.
Just do what I said.  Don't you be stupid.
So, from this, the little boy learns to lie to his friends that he is not at home when in actual fact he is.
He also lies about a lot of many other things. 
Hey, why don't you join us for a movie?
Oh, I will be away somewhere.  That is a lie again.  He is not going anywhere. Why is it so hard to say that he cannot possibly afford to because he has spent a lot of money on study materials?  Is being poor so shameful? 
Children should be taught to be brave to face up to the truth.  Honesty is still the best policy.

Win That Battle

Life seems hopeless for Cecelia.  For twenty years  she has been praying faithfully that her husband will
one day abandon his old way of life for the sake of his children. He has not changed at all, getting worser each day  after their first child was born.  Blissful marriage life did not last long.  It ended a year after the marriage vows were taken.
Cecelia refused to give up hope.  Her children are her consolation.  What made her husband break his promise was something she did not understand.  There were some underlying problems that he had not revealed to her.  They slowly surfaced throughout the years and at first, Cecelia felt very hurt.  It was very unfair to her and she felt cheated.  As days went by, she found that her husband could not forget his past and sometimes, he would be mad for reasons incomprehensible to Cecelia.  Sometimes when an argument arose, though it was hardly about anything serious, she was hurled with accusations of causing the unhappiness in the family. Her husband would make the children believe she was the bad person. 
Cecelia understood that her husband was facing some psychological problems though she could not pin point exactly the nature of it.  She dealt with it patiently.  She was like the 'sand bag' for him to vent his frustrations on.  She understood his insecurities and wished to help him.  She always tried to put him in a better light in front of children and would not like her children to be psychologically affected too.
She wanted her children to respect their father and now, her children are all grown up, she hopes that they will always help him along.
The twenty-year long battle must not be fought in vain.  It must be won.
A life battle.   It is not won by our human efforts; all we need is to stand firm in our faith.   2 Ch 20:15-17   Yes, Glory to God!

What a Beautiful Person!

A Prayerful Person,
Loving God and Doing His Will,
Fearful of Doing Wrong,
Never Harbouring Bad Thoughts,
of Jealousy, of Greed.
Of Temporal Wants,
Only to Find Joy,
That is Here but for
a Short Moment.
Full of Wisdom,
Never Criticising,
or Judging,
For that You will Find,
You are Judged even more.
Truthful yet not Hurting,
Righteous , not Bending to Compromise,
to the Devil or to Human Ways,
Seeker of God's Wisdom.

To Forget is Really Hard, But to Forgive, You Must

Ying Jie was married in the early 1950s and she was only 15 then. She became one of the youngest girls to step into the world of adulthood.  If she had her own parents still alive, this would not have happened.   She was sold to the Chan family at the age of nine when her adoptive parents were killed in a road accident.  No one dared to keep her except the patriach of the Chan family, Chan Ma, whose name meant 'mother of the Chan family'.  Chan Ma was a widow whose husband  died a few months before Ying Jie came into the family. Her deceased husband left her a grocery business which was sufficient to sustain the family of four and soon to be five persons.. Ying Jie was said to be cursed by her natural father who was a lazy man and did not liked the idea of raising up a daughter.  He had forced his wife to give up the youngest and only daughter to a childless couple.  It  was a very sad parting for Ying Jie's mum and she had cried the whole night, refusing to eat any food given to her by her husband.  Yet, her tears did not move the hard- hearted husband who was only too glad to get rid of the baby girl for a few hundred dollars.
When she was a maid for the  Chan family who had two sons older than her,  these two boys were always bullying her.  They made her run and down the stairs of the three storey pre-war shophouse bringing them this and that.  She did not dare breathe a word of complaint as it would only make matters worst.  She would not want her elder sister, who was about six years older, to hear about her unwillingness to do work because it would only make her happier.
 Her elder sister, Fong, was also sold to the family as a maid, and because she was there first, she claimed her seniority.  She would often boast about how much she knew about the work there and how  much Chan Ma appreciated her.  At first Ying Jie followed Fong sheepishly around but later, she learned that Fong was only using her and had at several occasions purposely framed her up for the bad things she did not do.  Once, she was accused of stealing money from the till box of which she was looking after for a short while, when Fong had to go and relieve herself.  Then, she began to see how evil Fong was and she decided to avoid her as much as possible.
The patriach called her one day to tell her that her job would be in the kitchen and whatever there was in the grocery shop would not be her business.  Ying Jie was delighted at her new job because that meant she would be seeing all the three bullies less.  In the kitchen she worked under the supervision of
Fan Bo, a lady of about forty, supposedly  a good friend of the patriach.  She had to hand wash all the clothes and every morning it took her three to four hours to finish.  By the time she had finished, she would be all wet from head to toe.  Nobody cared because if anybody opened his/her mouth to say something, the patriach would surely make that person help out.  Ying Jie actually liked washing because she liked to play with the water.  However she did not like having to carry water from the main tap to the basin she was using.  Sometimes when the pressure was low, the flow of water was too little.  Fan Bo told her to get it from the well in the house.  The first time Ying Jie  peered down at the water of which the level was all the way down ,she felt faint.  She felt as if she could fall over into it.  She shuddered at the thought of that.  What if she really fell into it and no one would know.  Who could hear anything from way down there?  No, that's not a good idea.
Come, let me show you how to do it.  Fan  Bo thought Ying Jie did not know how to do it when she saw her hesitating.  Remember, you must hold tight to the rope. Don't let go of the rope when you let down this pail.  Fong lost a pail the last time she tried to fetch water from this well. I don't want another pail going down this well anymore.
With a jerk at the rope, the pail hit the surface of the water down below and it scooped the water  up.
Soon,Fan Bo was pulling up the rope with a pail full of water. Have a go at it, she persuaded Ying Jie.
Ying Jie took the rope and she threw the pail down.  It hit the wall of the well so hard that it make a loud noise. Fan Bo called her a stupid and told her to open her eyes bigger to see how she did it.  Why are so scared of the pail that you have to throw it like that?  At least you remembered to hold on to the rope.  If you drop the pail, I will twist your ear off your head.
Ying Jie hated it if Fan Bo talked like that.  At that moment, she hated her life.  She wished she had the courage to jump down into the well.  She did not feel like living anymore.  She could not find a happy place to be in.  Then, she thought of her own natural mother.  She hated her for abandoning her.  She did not understand why she had even given birth to her.  While she was having negative thoughts, she was interrupted by a kind voice.  She looked up with teary eyes.  Who is it?  How do you know my name?
A small statured lady , about the age of Chan Ma, walked towards her and just before she could say anything, Chan Ma came out nosily, yelling out to Fan Bo and telling her to quickly finish the washing before the rain came.  She gestured to the lady and both of them went out to the front portion of the shophouse, chatting as they went along.  Ying Jie could not understand most parts of the conversation but after the lady left, Chan Ma told her that she was a distant relative of her adoptive father who had brought a gift for her.  On her wedding day, five years later, Ying Jie was told that the lady was her natural mother and she had entrusted Chan Ma with some gold jewellery for her.  Her mother was worried that she might never see her again due to her bad health.  Just as she had predicted, she died of pneumonia the following year.  She was ill-treated by her mother-in-law and was never brought to see a doctor.
Ying Jie had never wanted to marry early.  However, the second son of Chan Ma,  Er Lang, had forced it on her. One day, while she was in her bedroom getting ready to go downstairs,  Er Lang came in suddenly. He locked the door behind him and Ying Jie knew immediately what he intended to do.  She shouted at him but he would not listen.  She fought back but he was too strong for her.  After some time, he let her go when she bit into his arm.  He told her that he did not understand why she did not like him.  Don't you know I am almost crazy thinking of you?  Every time you talked to Ah Fook or Eng Lok, I am getting more afraid of losing you.  I want to marry you.  I am already twenty one.
You must be crazy.  I don't want to marry now.  I am only fourteen.  I want to study.  I want Chan Ma to let me learn a trade.
Yes, you can do that after we marry.  Do you think my mother will allow you to go and learn a trade when she is not sure you will be here long.  What if you run off and marry somebody outside this family?
I love you, you know that.  I know you love me too.
It was in this manner  that Ying Jie was sweet talked into giving herself to Er Lang.  Soon, Er Lang went about announcing to everybody  that he and Ying Jie were going to marry.  Chan Ma objected because she had wanted to marry Ying Jie to Ah Kong, a quiet government servant, whose mother was a regular customer at the grocery shop.  Chan Ma could not allow her lazy son marry Ying Jie. She had great pity for Ying Jie and would want her to have a better life.  Unfortunately, things had happened for the worse.  Chan Ma almost died of a heart attack when Er Lang unshamedly told her what had happened.  Very quickly, Chan Ma began wedding plans for the two 'fools' before anything untoward might happen later on.  A year later, Ying Jie gave birth to her eldest daughter.  It was the beginning of a hellish life.  Er Lang never went out to work or earn a living.  He did not care about Ying Jie or the baby that much.  He only cared for his conceited self.  He would only talked to Ying Jie when he wanted his animalistic desires satisfied.  Then, he would sleep from night till morning, and from morning to night, not coming down for food or drink.  When it was the next night, he would wake Ying Jie up to cook him some noodles to eat.  Every week this would go on and despite his mother's grumblings , he never changed.
When the eldest daughter was not even a year old, Ying Jie conceived again.  Er Lang was rough on her and even forced on her when she was in the trimester of her pregnancy.  In the third year of her marriage, she was again pregnant with the third child. Her second son was only three months old.  Luckily Chan Ma was one who liked children and she was a great help to Ying Jie.  Unfortunately, things began to change when Fong married the eldest son, Da Lang.  After a year, when Fong's eldest son was born, Ying Jie began to feel that the world was against her.  The family was getting bigger.  Er Lang and Ying Jie had to find a place of their own.  Finally they found a small hut.  They had to pay their own rental and Er Lang had to go out to work. There was no one to help with the children and Ying Jie had never done the full job before.  Chan Ma had to help Ah Fong because she had just delivered her second son.  Since Ying Jie had only one son, Fong felt that she had more right to ask Chan Ma to help her.  She was also dominationg over the household and wanted to take the whole share of the business.  Er Lang was too scared to defend Ying Jie, so they had to back out and find a house elsewhere.  How Ying Jie hated Er Lang for his helplessness!  How much more is she going to suffer!  All the empty promises!  She could not forgve him for making her suffer so much!  After giving birth to two baby girls and a son, she felt really old.  How she wished she was like the other eighteen year olds in the village.  They looked so carefree
and young.  Before she turned nineteen, she was pregnant again with the fourth child.  She felt suicidal but when she looked at the cute faces of her children, she could not do it.  That night when she was in her lowest mood, Er Lang came home with a new television.  It made her very happy because they were one of the first ones to own a television.  She felt proud of Er Lang.  Perhaps she was wrong about him.  Perhaps she should give him more time.  The years went by and though times were hard, Er Lang managed to keep his young wife happy by buying new gadgets for the house.  Just a year before she turned thirty, Ying Jie had bore Er Lang eleven children.  They were the happiest couple in the village. 


Prayer for the Day:  Pray for child marriages. Pray for those underaged girls who were innocent and who were robbed of their youth, and given a heavy responsibility of an adult to carry on their small shoulders. Poor girls of Nepal, India, and other parts of underdeveloped countries.  God , have mercy on them.

Are you God?

This is the top question of the year.  I was taken aback because it was the first time I was asked this.
Oh, of course not.  I laughed , though nervously, as I said it. 
 But you talked as if you knew everything.
  Oh ,did I sound like that? 
 Yes.  That was my brother-in-law.
Sorry, if you think so but I am actually quoting from the Bible, spiritual books or some famous pastors around the world.  You see, you don't read and you don't attend church, so I am doing you the favour of telling you all these.  Please don't say that I am acting or speaking like God.  You know I am not.  I hope I can be like Him though.  Full of wisdom, perfect in all ways. However, I do believe in His existence and my existence in this world is to do His will.  There is much peace in believing that, I assure you. No?
 You needed money, why don't you tell your god to give you a few millions if you think he is so great. 
 How do you suppose is it going to be, brother?  Money falling from the sky? I don't gamble in the casinos, nor  do I buy a lottery ticket, which I was taught since young not to talk or think about money too much as it would make me poorer instead. (Now I am beginning to understand the wisdom of my mom's words) Whatever do I need so much for?  No, brother, I won't pray for money. (Now, I am beginning to regret telling him my financial woes.  I should seek God's counsel instead of people) Instead, I will pray that whatever situation I am in, it is all His will and I will not feel the need for that big amount of money.  I will feel at peace even I do not have the money. On the other hand, I am very sure I will not be at peace with too much material wealth.  If I do not have money for something,  I will just do something else.  For example, not  going for oversea trips, less shopping for new clothes or whatever but to be happy staying at home, enjoying the company of each other, doing things together etc.  We can still be joyful.
My brother-in-law who is almost eighty, is an atheist.  My sister is a staunch Buddhist, though she claims she is just lukewarm about it.  She insisted that the belief in self is more important.  No god or human is able to help you or solve your problems if you do not help yourself.  The god that she believes in has limited power; he cannot possibly listen to everyone's problems. Very sad.

Love Disguised

What a learning experience I am having day by day! God's manisfestation revealed.  Why didn't it occured to me before?  Is it  something to do with my personal efforts in getting close to Him!  Or is it His planned timing when He wants to show up suddenly? 
Why is my attitude towards a difficult friend suddenly changed?  Why am I not feeling irritated by her selfish traits anymore? Why is the tone of  my voice as I speak to her suddenly sounding gentler? I need not tolerate her anymore! I have not been too true to her, I must admit.  I can't even believe myself now.  I am even enjoying being with her.  I am even beginning to love her like a sister and she, in turn, responded with sincerity which I had thought she was not capable of.  Thank God I did not give up hope on her.  I was thinking of avoiding her because I was, at one point, badly affected by her selfishness and stubborness. A few friends who are known to us mutually had warned me of her queerness and they had long avoided her as much as possible.  God's lessons are so difficult to understand.  I must remember to be more tolerant, as well as be more patient towards anybody at all.
We are often tested.  I can be very critical sometimes and so quick in forgetting that we should not be judging others.  Even if we do not voice out, but if the thoughts are in our minds, we are doing wrong already. Have kinder thoughts of another, try to be more understanding.  Never criticise or judge as if these have become your 'staples' or necessities.

Things that Women Take Pride In

Women are mostly vain, especially those who live in the cities.  Of course, there are some men who are just the same. Besides the face, other parts of the body are given special treatment so that the woman will look young, trendy and rich.  A lot of money is spent on the hair; money spent on washing, blowing dry, styling, perming, steaming, straightening, colouring and in the most recent decade, there is rebonding of hair too.  That is not enough.  The toe nails have to look nice, and they get pedicured and painted.   Fingernails get manicured and painted too.  In recent years,  there seems to be nail salons in almost every big town where nail art is the name of the game.  Nails have never looked so beautiful before! 
Then in recent years too , we have more and more foot massage parlours.  They are indeed very interesting and I came to learn about them when I chanced to peer into one of them after I was attracted towards it by a strange smell of Chinese/Thai ointment. The patrons, which comprise almost equal number of men and women, will take off their shoes, sandals or slippers outside the parlour before they go in.  They will sit on the rather large adjustible chairs while the foot masseurs rub oil on their feet and start massaging them.  I wonder if these people are trained at all! Trained or not, they seem to be able to satisfy their customers.Their customers  are people who feel that they deserve such treats because they have worked hard for their money and it is one way to pamper their dear selves. Of course, there are some who need foot massages due to foot problems.
The body shape is another thing that women are very particular about. Going on a slimming diet to possess a pencil like slimness is often a preoccupation of most young girls. As for Asians, skin of  a fair complexion and  porcelain smoothness is an ideal asset most girls dream to have.  Sun block creams and skin whiteners have never been seen in such abundance on shelves of all skin care departments before.
Foundations, rouge, lipsticks, mascara, false eye lashes , eyeliners, eyeshadows, to name a few, are all used to improve the looks of one who is already a beautiful creation of God.  However, human's idea of what is beautiful changes after a while, after they set their eyes on something that is different from them,  and which triggers something in the brain and sends some impulses to the brain that makes it think the other is more beautiful than what one has been looking at all this while.  Therefore, they start to invent things to make them achieve what they like to see and to own it, even if it is temporary.
Humans are generally vain and that is why there are so many things in the market for them to buy to improve themselves. 
Clothings to reduce flabbiness at the wrong parts or to enhance certain body parts are such innovative ideas when other plans fail.  Women especially are such interesting creatures.  God bless all women!

Compare, Contrast, Differentiate....

Every day decisions are based on choices mostly.  We compare one with another.  We weigh the pros and cons.  The right choice and therefore the right decision is determined by several factors
; by human standards or by what the norm is.  Any deviations will render the decision/s either foolish or unwise.


Some are prejudiced whereas others may well decide based on logically thoughts or even on calculations.
There are some who made decisions based on their religious beliefs and also  some are influenced by what is taught by ancestors who had theorised their ideas after many years of observations.


Lately I have met up with a girl friend whom I have not met for two  decades.  She had changed tremenduously; she has changed from a happy-go lucky girl to a woman full of fears.  Almost every day in her life cannot have passed without faithful refernce to her 'feng shui' book.  How I wished her 'feng shui' book was a Bible instead.  Of course, I did not tell her that.  My heart ached as I listened to her conversation about how she had to make sure every part of her house was renovated according to 'feng shui' requirements.


At the end of the less than half an hour session with her, I felt full of pity for her, not that she was impoverished which she is not at all, but because of her rather 'archaic' beliefs.  I felt that I had been listening to my grandma , because that was how my grandma was.  How can some one who look so modern have such old fashioned thinking? On second thoughts,  Oh no, 'feng shui' is no more old fashioned.  I mean, she sounded like my grandma, or my great grandmother.  I cannot go on listening to that. Why?  I suppose it is the Holy Spirit in me that is not feeling comfortable.


Holy Spirit , are you in me?  Please stay in me.  I need your wisdom always and forever.  Never leave me.


Recently I discovered that when one keep on exerting one's beliefs and faith, especially to a non-believer, one will soon be rejected, no matter how close you have been to her/him.   Sad.  Whatever  it may be, prayers will be said for her/him. 

Utopia

How wonderful life will be if there is not a single worry! No worry about what to eat, where to eat, with whom to eat  and when to eat. No worry about getting fat or getting thin. No need to have ambitions, just study to gain knowledge, not to study to get a degree to get employed in a highly paid job, to earn more money to buy a good car, a house or what else you think you need to show others that you are not poor, to show others you got taste, or what else you want to show off to others. Why do  we have to live this life to prove to others what you want to prove to others? 
Yet , we get many people who are preoccupied with doing this. They slogged day and night to 'chase' after the material possessions to put themselves at a level that is comparable to a certain group of people as if without them they are not able to live.
Yes, and when you asked them about God, they professed they believe in Him. However, they are living their lives like everything depended on their own human abilities and whatever successes they achieved are due to their hard work  or intelligence , and after some hesitation, some may even remember it is God.  Some may even say that it is the belief in self and not something that is too difficult to perceive, like God,  and without this confidence, nothing is achievable.
Pray that we remember that though we may be able to plan, God is always in control. We may plan and endeavour to amass as many materialistic possessions as we can , God's hands are still in it.  He may allow it or He may take  away everything in one day.  Scary. Yes, we better fear God and pay Him more attention than the worldly things.  Whatever turns our lives may take, we must praise Him for He is the one who really know us one hundred percent, not even ourselves.  
I wish all my children are missionaries because I think missionaries do not worry too much about worldly things and as a result, they will not be hurting God.   What a life this world is! Full of cares! Only God can give us true freedom, from all kinds of enslavement.

My Stories: Internet and Facebook, Knowledge and Friendship

My Stories: Internet and Facebook, Knowledge and Friendship: Recently it just dawned on me how one can get stuffed with as much knowledge as one is able to contain due to the availability of the inter...

My Stories: Random Sketches

My Stories: Random Sketches: Some of the random sketches I have done from photos a friend had taken on a day at the park  .I was enthralled at how much ...

Random Sketches

Some of the random sketches I have done from photos a friend had taken on a day at the park  .I was enthralled at how much the park can offer.  Wish it is where I live but alas, I think I have to wait for a couple of years yet. 

Two photos sketched on a single piece of paper

 The picture was first done with the light switched on not as bright as when I touched it up the second time.  Later the picture looks brighter .The final picture is the one above but it is still incomplete.  I will continue on another day because I just can't get it right and I don't  want to waste my paint.So difficult that I am almost giving up; I guess it is  my impatience that is getting the best of me.

I wish to do better.  I am not good enough

Internet and Facebook, Knowledge and Friendship

Recently it just dawned on me how one can get stuffed with as much knowledge as one is able to contain due to the availability of the internet and especially due to many free online courses offered by universities all over the world.  However, I have mixed feelings about this.  Firstly, I was indeed overjoyed by the new discovery.  Secondly, I felt it is such a pity that some people especially some youngsters will rather choose to go on 'bad' websites than the ones beneficial to them.
Now, I wished I could turn back the clock.  I wished I am now a young person; one who is still in high school.  It is just wonderful to be able to get information from the numerous sources in the internet.
I could go online and get help with my homework instead of pondering over my problems for hours and hours trying to figure them out myself.
School homework now is a thing of the past. Now I am happy with spiritual websites, especially Christian sermons from the States and UK.  I can listen to the sermons in the archives or do bible study too.  I need not worry about missing out on anything due to my inattention because I can repeat the lessons over and over again by clicking the buttons on the keyboard.  Learning God's words had never been easier and more fun.  I find myself having such a big appetite for learning the Bible but alas, my memory is not that good these days.  I find myself repeating the lessons sometimes because I want to fully understand them.   Thank God for the internet.

The Facebook is equally useful.  When I have doubts, I can get my friends to give me second opinions. For one who is too busy with family and household chores, the Facebook is a vital link to the outside world.  It makes one feel there is someone out there even if you feel so alone.  However, there are some 'friends' who are not sincere and you have to be careful with them.  Instead of lifting you or making your days happier, these people have nothing better to do but to put you down.  These people should not be on Facebook at all because that is not what Zuckerberg intended.  Maybe there should be a kind of 'police' to track these people down. Facebook should be used to foster better ties and understanding amongst all mankind; the result of which there should be less racists, extremists and more harmonious living. God bless Facebook!  A friend in Facebook said it rightly; we Christians are not strangers, not even over Facebook.  I felt the warmth of Christ's love already.  How wonderful to be in this family!
However, one really should be very disciplined.  I am having so much fun these days in front of my computer that I am forgetting to go for my workouts.  That is bad for my health.  It should not be that way.  Time for some physical exercises!

Pursue Your Passion

God bless me with children who can study well.  All three of them have high ambitions, and being a mother, I am always encouraging them to go ahead to do what they like.  If they want to study medicine, I tell them , 'Don't hesitate because we may never walk this way again.  We cannot turn back the clock and it is no good to live in regrets'. Pray about it.  Is it what God wants you to do? At the end of the day, most importantly, it must be what God wants and not  whatYOU want. It is so easy to forget that, especially when we are so caught up with the world.

There are many choices available; local universities, cheaper Indonesian or Russian ones, or the more expensive, unaffordable by many, Australian or British universities. Of course, there is the issue of finance to consider.  Medical courses are very expensive and the cheapest adds up to about a hundred thousand to two hundred thousand ringgit.  The only way is to take up a loan which is available at 50 to 100 percent and the repayment will only take effect once the borrower starts to work.  The interest will also take effect concurrently and at one percent per annum.  Repayment can be stretched over a maximum period of  twenty years.  Sounds not too frightening though. A simple calculation on a loan of about 150k will reveal that a repayment of monthly a thousand to two thousand will be needed once the borrower starts working.  At the current economic situation, it seems that the amount is not that hard to fork out but initially it will be rather tight for the new earner.  It will mean having to be thrifty and it does not mean that if you are a doctor,  you need to live like a rich person.  At least not for the first few years, five years maybe.  That is what one has to forgo if one wants to do what one truly loves.  You have to pay a price.  Nothing comes easy, especially being a doctor.

 In fact, I see many doctors living a simple life, not too luxurious though.  I suppose they are 'rich' in the joy that is derived from the kind of work they do or are able to do.  God bless all doctors and doctors to be!