the mudpond

A Spring in My Step

2005-11-14T10:45:00.000+08:00

Part four of a six-part series in a Worldview Meme.

What causes you to get out of bed with a "spring in your step"? (when you don't have something special to look forward to)

Only ONE thing.

And this would cause me to literally SPRING OUT OF BED: the alarm that failed to ring the waking hour.

But once out of bed, there are at least a couple of things that could put a jaunty spring to my step. Maybe even a gleam in my eye.

Citrus. Lemon, lime or orange.

In my morning sip, it’s delightfully uplifting. Brings out the zest in my spirit and the sparkle in my eyes.

In my morning shower and spritz, it's a clean and refreshing fragrance. Invigorating. It can increase my happiness levels by - oh, about 500% percent :)

In my lunch salad. Losing even 5 kilos will definitely lighten my frame enough to let me be-bop all the way to the work, all around the office, all day long ^-^

And then, there's my music of the moment.

Currently, it's the single Number 1 from the Goldfrapp album Supernature.

I think, if you play it loud enough through sufficiently bassy headphones, the pounding bass is enough to put a spring in the step of even the most jaded old grump. The last song that made me feel so irrepressibly bouncy was MJ's bomb track 'Rock With You' from his album Number One.

Oh, something that probably doesn't count as Bucko-Me-Uppo but would defintely evoke, at the end of a long day, a "how lovely is life" mindset would be: the sweet perfume of jasmine or tuber rose floating around me...

... and crisp clean sheets to fall asleep in, in a flush of contentment :)

Eyeballing A Stranger

2005-11-11T16:30:00.001+08:00

Part three of a six-part series in a Worldview Meme.

What goes through your mind when you meet the eyes of someone you don't know? How do you act/react?

How I react to strangers depends on who they are: 1) the 'powerful' - mostly adults 2) everybody else.

But first, there are 'actually-powerful' and 'perceived-powerful' people - folks higher up in the line of authority and social hierarchy than I. They both have the potential to make my life miserable; they can cause me untold hardship and pain if they have a reason or mind to. At a mere whim or fancy, they can lift me up or kill my joy.

What goes through my mind and how I react to them are two different things.

I really have to apply a truth-grid mindset to balance the negative, baggage-related, therapy-needing emotional conditioning with positive, freedom-related, value-constructing, and authenticity-producing emotions, flowing from my beautiful and joyous worldview.

Heh! Just invoking a pathetic oppressed-trampled-victim mindset there :P

And then, there are 'projected' powerful people. The peacock-n-turkey types - perpetually puffed up in their own self and imagined importance.

What goes through my mind is, most times, exactly how I react to them. Depending on my mood and the prevailing circumstances this can range from amusement to annoyance, benevolence :) to humouring or disdain to contempt...

Haughty? Well, possibly... :)

And for everyone else, my default emotional response is a feeling of solidarity, of semi-belonging, of companionship. I am 'safe' with kids, I am not 'distant' to a poor person, I am a 'fellow and friend' of a misunderstood teenager, I am a co-griever with a bereaved and broken-hearted parent or spouse. This is the default, pre-cognitive response I STRIVE FOR.

The same, I suspect, is true of the majority of people I know: the meek or fierce, alike.

That said, what goes through my mind when I meet strangers (or preferably, before we meet), I have an algorithm that I try to uniformly apply … a very simple 'script':

If (stranger = powerful): Convert2regular-like-me (powerful stranger), returning Stranger-with-needs-and-pains-like-me;
For All Strangers-with-needs-and-pains-like-me: Do Add.Some.Value.2.them

This algorithm, of course, is a biblical worldview item -- God made us all alike in the basic aspects of human-heart experience. It is only unrelieved pain and unmet needs and betrayed trust that cause us to develop into 'arrogants' and 'elites' and 'calloused, powerful monarchs'…

And that, my dear reader, is the/my peacock-n-turkey version of Her Royal Highness, The Empress Baggie's very spontaneous and unpretensious way of eyeballing a stranger:

The Queen looks at those folks right smack in their eyes and smiles. Most often the smile is returned. It's so pleasant and rewarding.

Giving The Noodles A Break

2005-11-10T11:10:00.000+08:00

Part two of a six-part series on a Worldview Meme

What is your mood and mindset when performing mundane and/or repetitive everyday tasks?

My mood varies. Today's comforting ritual could be tomorrow's joyless drudge. A routine that feels fulfilling today may not matter a hill of beans the next. It's just the occasionally-out-of-whack hormonal system.

At some level, I resent having to cook and clean, replenish the pantry, use the bathroom, trim my nails ... etc. So I have to constantly watch my mood and invoke my mindset to interpret these activities more favorably.

At default, the mood is that of mild annoyance, at having to divert precious time away from the fun and novel stuff in my life - blogging is one :) Applying mindset as a correction, I can change my mood to neutral-plus-five-percent gratitude with trace levels of residual-grudging. LOL! Okay, okay, so the mindset correction simply places those events into my larger worldview.

No-brainer tasks help me stay healthy for the fun and novel stuff. They 'ground' me firmly to practical necessities. They also allow time-space for ideas to percolate and grow in the background (which takes time cos I'm a little slow on the take), whereas if I didn't do some of this purely reflexive stuff, my germs of ideas will be doomed to never bloom.

So if it's something that involves order/value-creation (cooking, cleaning, filing) or value-delivery (going with mom to the wet market... ugh! ick!), I try to invoke the 'excellence' mindset. teehee :D But I try to do a quality piece of goodness-work (not perfection or OCD level, lah), but something that I won't later look back on and say: "I wish I would have smiled a bit and done that less grudgingly".

But there are a few mundane tasks I actually and positively enjoy as rituals, but mainly for closure reasons.

I LOVE doing the laundry. I love putting them out to dry and folding them after sniffing deeply their sun-toasted warmth. It somehow FEELS GOOD to see the empty basket and the lines bowing a little under the weight of an assortment of linen, inner/outer wear of all shapes, sizes, textures and colors. When it is ALL DONE, when everything is put away in its proper place and the line relaxes back to its taut state, I feel a deep satisfaction settle in. "It's all good", I tell myself.

And I LOVE washing dishes. I love doing this because it is a task that has a concrete closure point. When it is done, it is DONE. The sink is empty. I have literally washed my hands off a messy task.

Closure is wonderful because it lets me move on to the next thing - unencumbered. Without closure, I feel hobbled, unable to devote my fullest attention and resources to the next thing on the conveyor belt of daily life. Everyday mindless tasks give me a strong sense of accomplishment. They give me the kind of closure I NEVER CAN GET in the vast majority of my brain-n-energy-draining 'main projects' in life.

Many of my files are ALWAYS still 'OPEN', for someone might come up with a pushback that forces me to RE-OPEN the case. These are matters with implications, consequences and ramifications that reach so far out and deep, that closure often becomes an elusive or endless and sometime hopeless endeavor.

Like, my 'Culture & Society' file remains perpetually open because the world changes so fast there. Like, as close as we come to finally owning the car we've been FOREVER paying off, and then, in a blink and a snit, we trade in our 'freedom' for a spanking, brand new car. In place of closure and freedom from one debt, we pick up a whopping, grand new debt - to pay from scratch again.

In an age of endless consumption that keeps us chained to the millstone of debt - probably even to the grave - it is the routine, mindless stuff that helps us stay healthy, happy and sane.

Give the noodles a break, I say :)

Mindset & Philosophy for Everyday Life

2005-11-08T09:55:00.000+08:00

Part one of a six-part series on a Worldview Meme

What is your constant mindset and philosophy for everyday life?

(when not having a bad day)

In most of my waking moments I am most conscious of being in the companionship of God. He is -- invisible, of course -- a non-judgmental observer of my life. No weird 'mystical' aspect to this, generally. Just a quiet understanding of that reality.

We are in constant 'conversation'. I ask Him for insight. I share my observations, expressing always, my confusion or disappointment. It is a very, very warm and accepting, and constructive companionship.

I find that He constructively seeks my growth and development. Never harsh or abusive when I fail or when I am stubborn and despite the countless missed chances and resisted graces. Not even when I have my many tiny moments of micro-malice.

This makes my daily life exceptionally 'safe' and supportive. I am, accordingly, NEVER alone. I am always with a Wise Friend and (true) parent.

A spiritual expression of my philosophy for everyday life would be that I attempt to:

~ honor Him and what He loves (as He has honored me with His companionship and a life of significance)
~ please Him with true growth of heart, love and integrity.
~ enjoy Him and all His blessings (and difficulties) that present themselves to me each particular day.

Otherwise, I try (perhaps struggle is more apt!) to add a slice of value to everyone whom I come in contact with that day, wherever feasible.

~ be it in doing a good job...

~ encouraging others - whose mindset I almost certainly - and by necessity - impact by my words and actions, both casually and carelessly.

~ exhibiting non-demanding behavior,

~ being empathetic to those in suffering,

and/or being appreciative to those who add some value to MY life that day.

I think, I hope this philosophy might afford me the best of two approaches:
~ goal-oriented -- to maximize the value given and/or received that day;
~ life/warmth-oriented -- to ensure that my interactions are 'fuzzily human' and not just 'machine-level efficient'.

The balance of warmth and efficiency is important to me. I would forever be a machine, if it were only 'goal-oriented', and I would be forever miserable if ubiquitous-warmth always precluded tangible/visible achievement.

Uhm... okay, all these, I try... and I try... to do in my everyday life. As you might imagine, I don't always succeed.

Contagious Thinks

2005-11-06T16:31:00.000+08:00

THAT MEME. I should never have done it.

Why did I bite when I'd always ignored memes which to me, always seem too much effort for fluff? Because it bit me. Randomness coupled with minimum effort requirement. Nothing could be more alluring to an idle and lazy mind. Mine, that is.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Randomness by itself never has a snowball's chance in hell with me. Da Ma Cai will never get a sen of my hard-earned ringgit.

But bundle it up with minimum effort, twiddling thumbs and time to kill, what's to lose? On the contrary, when synapses simply refuse to fire up the neural network, it's a blog post.

But I really should have known better.

As if the first one were a virus, three days ago, another one popped up in my mailbox. This one was long. It came bearing questions that require unpacking. Me being me, long and seemingly innocuous questions always trigger a mouse-click. And here's the catch :

Memes are contagious ideas, all competing for a share of our mind in a kind of Darwinian selection.

Ah so. A survival of the fittest of ideas. I certainly have seen how that applies to other people's blogs. And I can certainly see, how it is now insinuating itself into mine. Sigh

A friend recently started re-thinking his worldview and chose to share his responses with friends, in meme fashion.

Well, of course, being far from lazy or idle this past week, had I felt so inclined, I could have done such navel-gazing the web way. But then, I never obsess about my navel - not any more, anyway - since my belly went under covers the day my dress size got promoted.

So why did I bite? How did it manage to bite me?

You see, my genes betray me. I'm a sucker for reciprocity. It'll be the death of my anonymity, layer by layer - one day.

Anyway, having expended much think-time and effort on this meme, I might as well blog it - for whatever it's worth. Who knows, it might be contagious enough to reward me with little glimpses of other people’s worldviews.

;)

There are six questions to which I will post my personal responses; one per post, in the coming days. One by one, because the depth of thought my friend attached to each response, was well… contagious.

1. What is your constant mindset and philosophy for everyday life? (when not having a bad day)

2. What is your mood and mindset when performing mundane and/or repetitive everyday tasks?

3. What goes through your mind when you meet the eyes of someone you don't know? How do you act/react?

4. What causes you to get out of bed with a "spring in your step"? (when you don't have something special to look forward to)

5. Are there any people that cause you unease for no apparent offense performed? How do you deal with this?

6. What goes through your mind and how do you react to a perceived indirect insult during a casual conversation?

If this meme interests you, feel free to pick it up for your own blog. Alternatively, you are most welcome to do it with me in the comment box. I'd be most honored :)

Activism - How To Conduct Yourself

2005-11-01T20:32:00.000+08:00

AS ANYONE WHO has encountered the challenge of getting things done would tell you, in business as in real life, you don't bring about sustained, meaningful change by edict. As a leader, you need to persuade, enthuse, and engage people in sufficient numbers to change behaviours, laws or processes. In business-speak, it's called Change Management.

And activism is Change Management writ large.

One of the gurus on this subject is John Kotter. In his book Leading Change he describes an effective process to getting people to do different things or things differently.

Seasoned and accomplished environmental activist Elizabeth May of the Sierra Club of Canada has writen a wonderful primer called How to Be an Activist that essentially uses Kotter's process.

Here are her hints for how to conduct yourself as an activist:

1. Refuse to be intimidated. If you are told that a subject is too technical or scientific for you to understand, don't believe it.

2. Be creative! Every campaign and issue has its own dynamic.

3. Don't take no for an answer. Be persistent, the squeaky wheel.

4. Ask lots of questions. Get to the bottom of issues. Do your homework.

5. Use the telephone. It is a great research tool.

6. Be unfailingly polite. Being persistent is not the same thing as being rude.

7. Leave no stone unturned. Ask people for help.

8. Give public credit and thanks.

9. You can accomplish anything, if you don't care who gets the credit.

10. Remember that politics is also personal. Watch out for burn-out. You'll need the support of friends and family. Build love into your campaigns.

This may seem simple and obvious. It is, and it works - if Elizabeth May's reputation is anything to go by. The main reason you don't see huge changes being wrought every day is human nature. And often times, change has to begin with the activist, before he can himself become a real change agent.

As Michael Moore's unfortunate speech at the Oscars so effectivley illustrated, sometimes how you do things is as important as what you do to bring about needed change.

Catching Flies With Honey

2005-10-28T04:07:00.000+08:00

"Think twice before trying to take us on because we will fight back.

I will fight back."

Wah.

Put that way, Peter Tan's warning gives rise to at least two perceptions. One: Abled people are attacking the disabled. Two: Activists, disabled or abled and the entire disabled community are odd and angry.

Peter, prominent paraplegic blogger and "current pro-tem President of a rights-based association for people with disabilities" is ANGRY. You'd have to be real stupid to have to think twice about that. He's FURIOUS. LIVID. OUTRAGED.

And I would be the last person to dispute that.

But I wonder what exactly it is he's actually angry about. And why. Who is taking him on, for what? But for now, I'd just like to keep a sharp focus on his fury rather than the 'what' and 'why' of it.

So.

In that strong warning, Peter, who has "worked with NGOs for people with disabilities for the past fifteen years" does not sound like he cares how anyone feels about it. About the disabled and/or actvists looking odd and angry, I mean.

Nevertheless.

If I may just think about it, aloud, here...

If Peter's mission is to change people's attitudes, then unfortunately he MUST care about what society at large (comprising mostly the able-bodied taxpayers who 'fund' those toilets ) thinks. He must change our perceptions for the sake of the disabled community. Thus he must make sure that his words -- letters, reports, interviews (to the authorities, sponsors, institutions, charitable and caring public and the media) -- are always rational, to the point, and preferably concerned or disappointed rather than outraged.

Now.

We all know that anger tends to put people on the defensive whereas concern and a rational argument can usually get a decent hearing. So, for the sake of the disabled, Peter Tan MUST be heard. The thing is, he will be heard most clearly NOT when he is shouting loudest and issuing warnings, BUT when he is communicating in such a way that people are willing to listen.

Oh. I believe I've just stumbled upon the 'why' of his anger.

These rights are in accordance with the United Nations Convention on Disabilities and is recognised by governments that are signatories to it. As I have often pointed out, these are rights, not privileges."

As a reaction to the lack of disabled-friendly access, the not-so-barrier-free environment -- do pardon that clunky sentence showing my ignorance, but you understand don't you, that I really coudn't hear anything above all that angry yelling -- very strong feelings (not actions, mind you) are understandable and entirely justified.

Perhaps it's his inability to deal with his anger in a constructive manner (the frustration) that leads him to create a raw dichotomy between oppressors and oppressed people. It's probably the same inability to manage his anger that has been a great hindrance (the futility-induced rage) to the advancement of the rights of the whatever association (if you heard him name it, please tell me) he represents, I think.

Over time (mind you, fifteen years is a long, long time to be unsuccessful), people tend to deal with their anger in different ways. Some take to protesting, some to screaming, hatred, and sarcasm. Others disconnect from society and surround themselves with only like-minded people, seeing society as a large conspiracy against the disabled.

Well, we all know how Peter Tan deals with it. We've heard that IT WORKS.

Now, I don't really think this does much to move society towards being more compassionate.

I sincerely believe Peter Tan needs a different approach. He needs to think twice before challenging someone, for instance, to dive into the pool so he can actually experience the same disability, sitting in a wheelchair. It's guaranteed NOT to engender compassion.

Perhaps Peter could TRY to READ/LISTEN CAREFULLY to what people are really saying. He could try to maintain a positive outlook and a sense of humor. It might make it easier for him to continue in activism and to avoid self-righteous fundamentalism. All this would make it possible to interact positively and constructively with others. Which will make him a real and more effective agent for social change.

"As someone who would have to consider making provisions for the handicapped or underpriviledged, I would rather I act on my own sense of responsibility, not charity, than to be thrust with some rule that artificially specifies how I should make those provisions."

- Whatever said here -

Forgive the animal cliché but, "You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar". It is human nature to care more about pleasing a friend who has been wronged than an adversary. The reader of your blog is only human.

Persuade and convince, Peter. Don't alienate.

Rosa Parks Dies

2005-10-25T13:36:00.000+08:00

AND SPEAKING OF rights... there is none other more famous or infamous as her.

She was 42 when she committed an act of defiance in 1955 that was to change the course of American history and earn her the title "mother of the civil rights movement."

When she refused to get up, an entire race of people began to stand up for their rights as human beings.

Rosa Parks died on Monday, of natural causes at the ripe old age of 92

Here is a gentle woman who sparked a revolution. A woman of quiet strength, a true heroine.

Truly, I feel like one light in the world has gone out.

In A Jam

2005-10-25T10:30:00.000+08:00

... AND COME TO think of it, when it comes to standing up for my own rights, I'm stuck between being meek and fierce.

I'd bought a jar of Lemon Curd from a small but well established mini-market the previous weekend. Friday morning, drooling at the thought of that delicious, zesty creamy stuff on toast, I opened it.

The lid didn't pop. Horrors! A tiny patch of mould on the luscious, lemony curd!

At the thought of mycotoxin-producing fungi in my favourite breakfast spread, indignation rose. Sheeze... I paid good money for it and it was spoilt! I absolutely MUST send it back.

But the hassle (besides traveling and parking costs) of going back to the store as well as losing at least one hour in pursuit of rectification added up to quite a deterrent.

I did the next best thing. Rang and asked to speak to the Buying Manager, or The Boss (since this wasn't a Cold Storage or Tesco, or Giant or any of those Big Flers). Frankly, I didn't expect to be put through, but I was. I didn't expect to be allowed to exchange, at another outlet or time convenient to me, but I was.

What a pleasant surprise! Especially since a friend who bought an expensive bra with a faulty clasp from a leading departmental store had to go all the way to the same store to exchange it, even though they had a store within walking distance of her office.

I was luckier. The Boss was profusely apologetic and instantly offered the exchange. No receipts necessary - no ifs, no buts, no questions asked.

Having resolved that to my satisfaction, without any of the anticipated stress, I made no plans to execute my exchange.

Yes, I'm one of those who start out on a high horse to seek redress but an apology is usually good enough, if, to exact the requisite pound of flesh means a further investment of my time and attention.

But The Boss thought otherwise. At 5pm the same day, a hamper arrived at home, crammed with goodies by the same manufacturer of the Lemon Curd. All, probably worth 15 – 20 times what I paid for that jar of Lemon Curd.

Unaccountably, I immediately regretted being so cross earlier. After all, wasn't it just a tiny patch of mould, smaller than a 1 sen coin? Why fuss over such a trivial thing when this very moment, thousands of Indian and Pakistani earthquake victims are probably having, at best, the barest minimum of nutrition, if any? My complaint had also caused the whole batch of Lemon Curd to be pulled off the shelves.

I found myself faced with a chore of having to return the hamper. Keeping it might be pandering to my greed, the something-for-nothing syndrome.

This episode gave me much (and needless) food for thought.

I wish I could be one of those so certain of the correctness of their action that they have no qualms – whether giving subordinates bad reports leading to dismissal or telling serving staff off in restaurants even when service is just a notch below perfect.

They are only doing what is right and their right, as they usually declare. I too was standing up for my rights, but I couldn't help wondering if I over-reacted, when I saw that hamper.

My sister on hearing my plans to return the hamper, made the problem worse by asking "Why, didn't they inconvenience you?"

They did but the gift was out of proportion, I argued. Then she kicked it in: "If you send it back, they might think you're still miffed. That you expect a RM500 voucher"

Would they? Surely not!

To cut a long story short, I tore into the hamper and randomly distributed one third of it to my family members, and kept the rest for myself. And then I went back to the store and spent RM80+ on some dry groceries before other arguments against that move surfaced to change my mind. It was a sort of a quid pro quo.

Blessed are the meek for they would have scraped off the mould, eaten the rest of the curd without a peep and saved time and thought for more fruitful pursuits.

And blessed too are those never assailed by self-doubt when they rap on the counter and demand First Class service or their money back.

Unfortunately, I'm stuck somewhere in between the two groups.

Not laidback enough to say: never mind, tough luck, I bought a lemon. Yet not strong enough in my convictions when rewarded for my trouble, to take a generous gesture as my wholly-justified dessert.

Stand Up But Don't Lose It

2005-10-23T15:24:00.000+08:00

The meal was horrible from start to finish. The service was bad; the food was poorly executed; wine never arrived at the table... plus a series of small things like empty water glasses, unfilled coffee cups, bread baskets not being refilled and long waits between courses. PLUS. They felt ignored by the STUPID waiting staff. AND they threatened to walk out without paying.

This happened in a fine but very busy restaurant where I dined last night. As the irate diner unleashed a tirade of hot and harsh words, a hush fell and all activity froze. Even as he 'lost it', he held the entire restaurant in thrall.

Many people I know shirk at the idea of making an official complaint, preferring to vote with their feet.

But there is a growing awareness of consumer rights and people are more willing to stand up for themselves now than, say, a decade ago. Consumers are not only getting more assertive, which is probably due to very competitive marketing in almost every sphere, but they are increasingly willing to express their grievances when they feel they aren't getting value for money. People are becoming angrier, but constructively so.

Yes, sometimes we do need to kick up a fuss.

We owe it to ourselves – and to the guilty establishment, if it is serious about wanting to improve. So when your fluffy pancakes turn out to be a load of old crepe, you have a right to send them back to the kitchen post-haste, if you're paying good money for them.

This is not to say it's open season on belly-aching about every and anything. It's just that there's a simple rule to it.

COURTESY

Always

Flying off the handle over a fly in your soup won't endear you to anyone. Seeking out the person in charge, refusing to be fobbed off and making yourself heard in a reasonable, concise way, will usually bring the satisfaction of an apology and sometimes more.

But refusing to be fobbed off doesn't mean you let loose a string of “YOU ARE STUPID" to each and every explanation the restaurant staff attempts to make. Verbal abuse is NEVER a substitute for logic or facts.

An apology, when proffered, is NEVER be an invitation to heap on more insults and further verbal abuse.

IT'S AN OPPORTUNITY TO BE GRACIOUS. It may even be an opportunity to regain your dignity for having 'lost it' in the first place.

Thumping your chest and saying, for instance, "I am the President of CAP, therefore, I KNOW I am right, because.. " does not confer upon you more rights than the ordinary consumer.

Right is as right is.

Stating one's case firmly and politely when things go wrong gives the offending party a chance to make amends, but, only if you go about it the correct way. By being politely assertive in a restaurant, you can get things off your chest without cleavers drawn at 10 paces.

Whining and dining never look good

If the restaurant ignores your complaint, don't get mad, get even. Leave quietly and feel free to spread the word among your friends. It's more dignified than blowing your stack in front of other patrons and far more damaging in the long run.

Come to think of it, whether it be our expectations on the quality of service in a restaurant or our right of exclusive access to public toilets, don't we want to enjoy our rights in a dignified fashion?

The 23/5 Meme

2005-10-17T10:30:00.000+08:00

I DON'T USUALLY do memes. BUT. As you'll find later in this post, this, my first meme couldn't have been more timely :)

After weeks of being sprayed with such crap as social responsibility = invoking the ISA when you get some stupid rant in your comment box, blogging mentors, sifu-ism and the notion (gasp!) of blogger generations.

The 23/5 Meme via e pur si muove
1. Dig into your archives

2. FInd your 23rd post
3. Find the 5th sentence (or closest to) and post it in your blog along with these instructions.

The result:

There is no God of Blogs to smite you.

Right on.

Well, my dear fellow bloggers, it may have been 204 days since I posted this, but amid so much "we know best" fairy piss, I think we couldn't need to be reminded of this, more than we do now.

Cheers! and a Happy Monday Morning, to all you bloggers (pro, vet or novice) out there

The Alpha Course

2005-10-09T19:34:00.000+08:00

Disclaimer:

BUKAN UNTUK ORANG ISLAM

Still on the subject of God….

This should be of interest to anyone, even non church-goers, with questions about life, faith and God. Nicky Gumbel, founder of the Alpha course will be in Kuala Lumpur on 10 & 11 November. Although Alpha is an Anglican evangelization programme on the basics of Christianity, it has spread into Roman Catholic churches in over 153 countries.

I have attended some of the supper meetings in my parish. The teaching videos are not only enlightening and informative, they’re actually quite entertaining. Had it not been for work commitments, I would have completed the entire 10-week course, which concluded recently.

I have often wondered how could God forsake Jesus just when he needed him most. And until Nicky Gumbel, no one had satisfactorily explained (to me) the mystery behind Christ's anguished words (quoting Psalm 21) as he hung, in torments, on the cross:

'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

These words articulate so well, so poignantly the challenge that innnocent suffering poses to the belief of God.

These words of despair, the cry of dereliction reveal the heart of what Christ suffered on our behalf. He suffered the same Godforsaken-ness as Jews of the Holocaust must have suffered. As all innocent victims of human injustice, famine, disease and disaster must have and will continue to suffer.

Where is God?

2005-10-09T14:27:00.000+08:00

It’s been barely a year since the deadliest undersea earthquake of the century sparked a killer tsunami that took 220,000 lives in Asia. Just over a month since Hurricane Katrina claimed over a thousand lives in Amercia. Now as then, at a loss to explain the massive losses in human lives and property, the oft-asked question is:

Where is God?

As the quake death toll in India and Pakistan speeds past 2,000, a poor villager grieving the loss of his 14-year-old daughter spoke of God’s wrath:

"When the earthquake came it was like Judgment Day,"

UPDATE: The International Herald Tribune said the death toll in Pakiston may be speeding up to 30,000.

Like latter-day Jobs bewailing our fates, we ask and ask, as we have asked of the Holocaust, of the African genocides, of Darfur, of 9-11, of the blasts in Bali and London and Bali again... Is there a God?

In grief and suffering, anyone’s faith will be tested. I can only guess at the anger and pain that the bereaved feel. Who can blame any one of them for directing it like a guided missile at the very foundation of whatever beliefs they have.

Why did this happen to those poor folk, most of whom, whose lives surely, were already miserable enough?

Disaster understandably causes people to doubt the existence of God.

But tsunamis, hurricanes and earthquakes, cannot, in reason, have any possible bearing, by itself, on the question of whether or not there is a God. It cannot amount to a revelation, or even a confirmation, that God does not exist.

Still, we ask:

Why would God allow such suffering?

A perfectly legitimate question.

There is an uniquely belief-undermining quality about natural disasters on the scale recently seen. But why on earth should that be so? We know all too well that undeserved pain, injury, disease, and loss of life are daily facts of life for hundreds of millions of people on the planet. Indeed, presumably in the course of human history, billions of people, rich and poor, weak and strong, have suffered and died from causes not of their own making but as a result of a terrible accident.

Natural disasters seem especially faith-threatening. Partly because of their scale. Partly because for most of the first few thousand centuries of human history, such events were ascribed to some divine force.

As if, somewhere in our genes, there is a tendency to take a little too literally the insurance company terminology that even lightning is an“act of God”.

Human beings have always told stories to explain natural disasters. Most cultures have deep at their core a flood myth in which the great bulk of humanity is destroyed and a few are left to repopulate and repurify the human race. In most of these stories, God is meting out retribution, punishing those who have strayed from his path. The devastation starts a new history, which will be on a higher plane than the old.

I find such explanations repugnant. It is repugnant to imply that the people who suffer from natural disasters somehow deserve their fate.

Tsunamis, hurricanes and earthquakes. Tragic and horrific as they are, they are simply irrelevant, or at least supernumerary, to the question of whether a benign God exists.

Thank Goodness!

2005-10-02T22:01:00.000+08:00

Good sense prevails. Inspite of the (some say, insulting) suggestion that he would be practising double standards if he didn’t/doesn’t “set an example”.

Not that that was EVER any doubt he would not toss trash right where it belongs. It’s also good to note that so far, others also recognise trash.

Trash it, Delete it, Zap it, Nuke it to cyber oblivion, as others did.

Only don’t invoke “Et Tu, Bloggers?”

" Common sense is the knack of seeing things as they are,

and doing things as they ought to be done.

– Harriet Beecher Stowe -

Humpty Dumpty, Again

2005-10-01T09:22:00.000+08:00

THERE'S FAIRY PISS rain out there, now.

It's Saturday morning and I’m home. Stuck with a bored four-year old.

He’s circling the lounge in the exaggerated, pantomime manner that little macho predators have. He’s planting one foot after the other, as far left and as far right, as his stout little legs can stretch, without losing his centre of gravity. Swaggering wobbily about. In his faux gruff voice, the little grunt is going:

"Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a big fall... "

over and over and OVER and OVER again.

Arrggh!!

I’m reading blogs, trying my very best to ignore the annoying lil grunt. And his silly lil ditty.

And, oh my 'Goodness Gracious Me!’ [sic]

A tall poppy is showing us an outstanding example of double standards. He is precariously perched.

Anyone who even pretends to understand the concept of public opinion will know that Web Polls are roughly (only) an offline equivalent to straw polls. Many news sites (MSNBC, for instance) integrate web polls into every one of their stories. They all know that, although a popular way to aggregate opinion online, webpolls are far from effective in accurately reflecting public opinion. What more, in a country with such low internet penetration, like ours.

Jeff Ooi and his readers also know that Web Polls are far from a representative sampling method.

"To skim the cream of people's instantaneous thoughts"

ABSOLUTELY.

Now, why would ANYBODY who's ever been in a Form Five classroom, least of all, our clever politicians, be so gullible as to think... Oh hey, Politics 101 has the story.

How exactly did Kit’s poll earn the denigration of "faulty and irrelevant"?

GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME!!

Any Sixth Former would know the discursive model is a far more fruitful way to examine opinion on the internet. Therefore, if conversation is a determining factor of public opinion, then, it can be said that blogs are reflective of public opinion.

Wait.

Most times there is no real deliberation occurring in these conversational arenas called blogs. Most times.

Hmm... so, perhaps, we no longer need to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Perhaps, we simply need to distribute him.

The sun is coming out. And the little grunt is greedily gobbling up his breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast.

Jerks

2005-09-27T17:10:00.000+08:00

Jerking the Long (H)Arm of the Law and Up To No Good....

“Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty Dumpty had a big fall
All the King's horses and all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again"

Many childrens' nursery tales such as Humpty Dumpty have an entirely different meaning than the one we know. In earlier times, any criticism of the ruling order was considered as sedition or treason and you were likely to lose your head as well as other parts of your anatomy if you voiced them. But this didn't stop people from talking about and commenting on events, you just had to be careful how you voiced them. Hence the 'kids' songs, where the references to the ruling class' policies of the day were encrypted into a language where everybody knew what the words really meant.

Alas, Blogosphere too has its own Humpty Dumpty.

There will always be haves and have-nots and those with a vested interest in silencing voices that could 'cause trouble' and the werewithal to do it.
There will always be those who do not feel what they have to say is worth saying.
And there will always be those who yell out their message but are too far ahead of everyone else to be taken seriously.

Blogosphere needs its independence from the mainstream. It has values, rules and a culture of its own. But it is not set apart. It has borders where it meets other worlds: membranes through which ideas, images and customs all percolate. It is also a new world, where pathfinders and pioneers have much to say. It is also where the landless can stake claims, the frustrated find opportunities. So what matters in the virtual world, this relatively new land of opportunity? Perhaps, above all, this:

Will we use it to let ALL voices be heard?

Blog Buster: A Chilling Effect

2005-09-24T14:46:00.000+08:00

Recently, across the Causeway...

When Singaporean authorities invoked the sedition act and charged local bloggers for posting racist comments on an online forum, commentators said it had a chilling effect on the Singapore Blogging community (useful links & related posts here)

Meanwhile, back home in Malaysia... (femes bloggers, links not necessary)

Celebrity blogger Peter Tan lodged a police report against 'Good Man' for "posting abusive messages containing racial slurs".

According to a press report, "He said if this is allowed to go unchecked, it will give a negative impression of bloggers." Internet and media savvy Peter Tan is believed to have provided details of the sender’s IP address to the police.

Blogger Ameer Zulkifli aka Mack Zulkifli also lodged a similar report against the same poster for sending a 'seditious' or 'insulting' message that was NOT PUBLISHED (!)on his blog.

"Ameer called on responsible bloggers to notify the police of seditious messages posted in their blogs."

*shudder*

THE CHILLING EFFECT OF BLOGGERS INVOKING THE SEDITION ACT.

“In the zest to be obliging to the authorities, some bloggers have failed to be responsible for their own space and invoked one of the most ugliest piece of legislation to stifle rants.”
Chez 1978 said here

All of a sudden, the idea that the Internet is not a safe place has taken on a whole new dimension. Not just for bloggers, but for blog commentors as well. I fear proponents of freedom of expression may now have a negative impression of Malaysian bloggers :) :P

What is so potent about plain stupidity that we need invoke FEAR by raising the spectre of the Sedition Act?

Why, I wonder, is a blog that "stresses the freedom of expression" password-protecting related posts (as the post titles clearly indicate) that, doubtless, are of public interest?

BUKAN UNTUK ORANG ISLAM

2005-09-21T11:05:00.000+08:00

I WAS about to click "Publish" when my index finger froze.

All that talk about the (il)legality of off or online 'speech', (self)censorship...

It was this bit (okay, it's a chunk, an insighful one) by chez 1978 that gave me pause for thought:

The interesting bit is whether the site becomes a private or public space. You know, if what is illegal offline is illegal online, I wonder if all this gathering in virtual space counts as illegal assembly. Would we have to apply permits if we call an assembly in chatrooms?

If physical assembly is the crucial recipe, then what is to deny us the same application in the instance of public and private speech? Contrary to many Malaysians who believe that the internet and the real world are the same, the cyberspace is actually a unique medium. O'Brien (see links) included secret to the mix, but the point is what I have been trying to yell at you guys for some time now - the real world and the virtual world have very different boundaries. Does the internet spell the end of private speech? How can we keep free speech alive, when there is no way to keep it at all by the definition of our some enthusiasts for law and order?

For one thing, she raises a rather fundamental question as to whether or not the Internet is a public sphere. (for those inclined to examine this issue, a logical place to start would be 'Habermas and the Public Sphere' - just google it).

The other thing – that bit on information poisoning - it brought back memories of my expatriate days in Brunei, where all non-Muslim eateries are legally required to prominently display this sign:

BUKAN MAKANAN UNTUK ORANG ISLAM

The same law applies for supemarkets, where non-halal goods may only be displayed and sold in a separate room.

But coming back to what I was about to publish - an article that came in last Sunday's church bulletin... it's a document issued by The Catholic Bishops' Conference of Malaysia. An informative piece titled:

THE LEGAL IMPLICATIONS OF CONVERSION TO ISLAM.

Not exactly hot-off-the-press news, I know, but I think it's every bit as relevant today as when the Sharmala Sathyaseelan case - a case concerning denial of religious freedom - went to court a couple of years ago.

One more thing is relevant here. Another disclaimer (so tiresome, isn't it?)

The point of this post is not to stir up or ressurect anything. It is merely a reminder that in all matters, particularly those concerning faith and conversion, please do make an informed choice and look before you leap.

Oh Wait. In the spirit of the moment (ahem!) it might be prudent at this juncture, to state very clearly:

NI POST
BUKAN UNTUK ORANG ISLAM.

(pardon the bad Malay. The language, I mean )

Now, I haven't been able to locate an online version, (if anyone knows, please point me there) so I am reproducing it here, verbatim:

Dear Sisters and Brothers in the Lord,

If you convert to Islam, there are important changes in your legal status and what you can or cannot do.

Your conversion to Islam will be registered with the Religious Department and the National Registration Department, both of which are computerised so access to this information is available throughout the country.

Under Syariah enactments of most of the 13 states of Malaysia;

Conversion back to your former religion is either

a) not allowed under the law, or b) a criminal offence which means that you may be fined, whipped, detained or imprisoned under most State Islamic laws.

If you are under 18 years of age, you require your parents permission to convert to Islam. Your identity card will record your conversion to Islam.

Therefore, even if you are no longer practising, you may be fined, whipped, detained or imprisoned for violation of Syariah laws such as praying in Church, eating in public during fasting month, "khalwat", etc.

You cannot marry a non-Muslim. If you decide to divorce and attempt to convert out of Islam, you will lose custody of your children because they are Muslims.

Upon death, your non-Muslim relatives will lose their rights to any property, money etc, that you want to leave to them. The corpse of a convert to Islam will be taken away from his or her non-Muslim family for Islamic rites and burial even if you have not been a practising Muslim for many years.

In the event that your spouse converts to Islam, you may have no right to either your children or your spouse's property.

We know that certain Christians who convert to Islam for whatever reason, are not aware of or do not consider seriously the implications of such conversion. Hence the need to inform you.

By this, we are neither against Islam nor freedom of religion, which is guaranteed for all Malaysians in article 11 of our Constitution which gives the right to an individual to choose freely his or her religion.

But to choose correctly, you need to know clearly what you choose and the consequences of your choice.

signed
Archbishop Murphy Pakiam (KL),
Bishop Antony Selvanayagam (Penang)
Bishop Paul Tan, SJ (Melaka-Johor).

Okay, that's it.

By the way, something else chez said bears repeating:

Now that most of us are now focusing on the sedition act, it is already admitting the remarks of "Good Man" as evidence for its malice intent.

Well, let me just put it this way, I WISH THE SAME LAW CAN BE APPLIED TO INFORMATION POISONING ON THE INTERNET, BLOGGER OR NO BLOGGER. But I won't support it, why? Because I do not agree with our laws who threatens to send people to jail for being stupid.

Reheated Pizza

2005-09-13T17:30:00.000+08:00

AH, SO. You came by.

I remember what you said about pizza.

A slice of pizza is at its peak when served and eaten piping hot from the oven.

One that has been sitting around for a couple of hours will be much less appealing.

The crust will have dried out and hardened, the sauce will have congealed, the cheese will have turned to rubber and the toppings will have dried out.

You can stick it back into the oven.

Or nuke it in the microwave.

Sure it warms everything up.

But you can't revive it without turning it into a puppy's chew toy.

Beauty & The Beast

2005-09-12T15:54:00.000+08:00

I FIND GREAT beauty in the atmospheric process...

Where I am, a storm is gathering and brewing up. It's gonna be a real cracker - big , heavy rumbles and hard cracks of thunder.

Storms can be awesome in their grandeur and power,

sublime in their appearance,

and inspirational in their complexity.

There's a primal and terrible beauty in a raging storm. Their power is truly, truly awesome to behold.

And strangely, the pounding in my head has stopped.

You win some, you lose some

2005-09-12T10:37:00.000+08:00

IT'S DEFINITELY A day of mixed emotions.

First off, it's a Monday, traditional day of dread and ugh for worker bees. For those of us who tend to lean toward the blind optimism side of the scale, the dread gets mixed with a generous helping of "Hooray! It's a brand new week and anything is possible!" which leads to a general attitude of confusion-induced crankiness.

Second, it's CT & Mabel's birthdays, so there will be joyous celebration and cake! - two of the things that make me happy. No, not really, the second thing I never eat. No prizes for guessing why. Ah, but the first, the sparkly one, I never refuse. It really makes me really, seriously bubbly. And funny. And silly. And a third thing: there'll surely be mooncakes as well, which I simply cannot resist. Wait, I'm not at all sure mooncakes go well with wine. I know it goes well with tea; ocha or chinese tea, that is; not teh tarik. And thanks to Jill's recent trip to Toronto, there will also be maple-cream filled chocolates shaped like maple leaves.

Cake and Wine. Mooncakes and tea. And maple cream chocs. (con)fusion food?

It is also Jack's first day at the office, our new friend and colleague, and new friends and colleagues are always worth celebrating. I suppose.

The seriously mixed part of the emotions comes from learning that one very elderly family friend passed away last week. That's four funerals for the past thirty days. Stop. I don't want to dwell on the sadnesss, but I do want to say that he was very nice to my dog (years ago), very nice to my friend, and was a very nice person with a nice family; inviting, welcoming, and with large hearts..

Do you ever think about what you would like your funeral to be like? Hymns, flowers, casket, hearse... How about your obituary?

Oops, morbid thought. Quash that.

This is a really silly post. Must be something in this morning's coffee, I had two already. Forgot that Mary is always cranky Mondays.

My head is buzzing and spinning. Throbbing from the pounding that's going on inside my skull.

It's deafinitely a day of fusion and confusion. Definitely, I mean

I think I'd better go home after lunch.

Daylight Upon Magic

2005-09-10T12:27:00.000+08:00

SOMETIME LAST WEEK, I drove through a brisk little rain shower that lasted perhaps ten minutes. A short while later, the sun broke through and a brilliant rainbow arched majestically over the LDP. It was a magical sight and a wonderful way to end a long, difficult week.

The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain

~ Dolly Parton ~

Now I know it sounds silly and childish, but I always get a thrill when I see a rainbow. To me it's a symbol of hope. I mean, rainbows are not just pretty, they make me feel like good things are coming. This is not very rational thinking, of course. But - unabashedly, I admit - many of the best things in my life are not based on logic or reason... So there you go... [now what would Dr. Spock or Spock & Tuvok say, I wonder]

So okay, maybe I do need to hop off that silly carousel. Be more mindful of the need for reality to balance my addiction to whimsy. Let cold hard facts weigh in objectively for a more grounded perspective. Oh, very well then, here we go...

Rainbows are an optical phenomena. They are caused by light bouncing off the insides of raindrops. The colours occur because different colours (wavelengths) of light are refracted by different amounts. This all, I understand from Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusions and the Appetite for Wonder.

By the way, this book is really more about the position of science in general in our culture, than it is about science. The title comes from Newton's discovery that the rainbow is not a mystical bridge to a pot of gold, but light split up into its elements.

I feel so damn cheated. Where got that 'fantastical boof of fairyfloss' waiting? :-S But well, airy-fairy aside, I suppose, you can't possibly get nerdier than Newton. Trust him to take away the beauty of a rainbow by explaining the science behind it. I'll take ole man Dr Seuss anytime!

Anyhow, in these things, brains trump fairy floss. Anytime, everytime.

Dawkins (of The Selfish Gene fame, and who, some critics have labelled, imo ironically, a 'greedy reductionist') makes the point that understanding something and seeing it for what it really is does not diminish the experience, but makes it even more beautiful. Douglas Adams (who wrote the critically acclaimed The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) also addressed the issue:

"I will take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day."

He brilliantly adds that, understanding where we come from, who we are related to and how this vast, complex gene machine works does not make us less human or special. All it does is bring us closer to the world around us.

Why can't the fact that white light contains the full spectrum of beautiful colors be amazing?

Do we have to leave the world unexplained to appreciate it?

Why, indeed.

Because Ordinary Me have found what some unknown person of obscure origins once said to be not only true, but validated. Throughout my entire (unbrilliant) life. Over and over again.

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards,"

Does logic preclude or predispose the need for creativity and imagination? Tell me, who can deny that our complex universe is an astounding, majestic marvel?

The mere contemplation of its vastness and grandeur causes our heads (most especially airy ones like mine) to spin. It is after all, our appetite for wonder that drives us to explore, discover and investigate the marvellous natural phenomena that never fail to astound and intrigue us, to tease and to egg us on. And to push and stretch the limits of our imagination. And thus, our very limited understanding of our ourselves, our existence, our lives, our world and other worlds.

It is also, after all, our sense of marvel that gives us an intuitive feeling of the unity of the cosmos, a oneness grounded in scientific fact: we are made of the same stuff as all of creation. Everything that is, was, or will be started off together as one infinitesimal point: the cosmic seed.

Who cares if rainbows are not good omens? They're still beautiful and magical anyway.

Trite & Tired

2005-09-04T19:00:00.000+08:00

OH, SPEAKING OF 'high falutin'...

Ever thought how business speech and business writing are sometimes little more than high falutin' talk, filled with pretentious, overused images and puff phrases?

As soon as an authoritative author or a pontificating pundit unveils a clever new verbal invention, it's blasted around the world on the 24-hour news cycle, and everyone scrambles to be the first to use it in email or a meeting… like erm… ‘pushing the envelope’

Here are a few that once were clever and colorful, but now (I find) to be quite trite and tired…

on our radar screen
means "in our awareness". With a little imagination, it can transcend right into our zen-like stream of consciousness.... Very clever-sounding, eh?

on the ground
Desperately trying to remain vital, this one is transforming itself into "boots on the ground." It's probably military in origin — a flyer's or paratrooper's term. Ditto ‘bite the bullet” and “roll with the punches”, hopeful phrases used to magically confer the subject with an aura of stoicism if not actual courage, but in reality really reflect an absolutely hopeless and helpless state.

ahead of the curve, behind the curve

The 'power curve' describes the relationship between drag, airspeed and vertical speed for an aircraft. In business, the 'ahead' form means advanced or innovative, while the 'behind' form means "in too deep to ever dig out." Originally, using this image meant you were a pilot, which carried status. No longer.

Pursuant to
And with all due respect, while I don’t question the occasional (and human) need to sound self important, this very officious phrase, (sighted recently, rather interestingly, in a blog) - unless you’re pretending to be a corporate lawyer - sounds, really, quite pompous.

:O... waittaminit...

with all due respect

Probably popularized in modern times by Perry Mason or those characters on C-SPAN, this one is a real oldie. See, the patriotism entry in The Devil's Dictionary, by Ambrose Bierce.

And, that said, having said that
We used to say 'but'. Nowadays we seem to need more syllables.

And… at the end of the day, bottom line
If there is any beauty in the economy of words, how about saying 'finally'? 'Bottom line' comes from accounting and finance, and used to be cute. Used to be.

Got any to share?

Rats

2005-09-01T11:06:00.000+08:00

I am very sorry to have to do this. I've no idea what I've done to attract them

The smallest things...

2005-08-31T11:45:00.000+08:00

From the Gospel of Luke 12:22-31:

If the smallest things, therefore, are outside your control, why worry about the rest?
Think about the flowers, they never have to spin or weave, yet I assure you, not even Solomon in all his regalia was robed like one of these.

Star Jasmine

Broken Rhythm

2005-08-30T15:18:00.000+08:00

I JUST HAVEN'T BEEN up to it.

I had abandoned this blog for two whole weeks. And I've since been attempting to create a moment of zen out of my laziness. But nary a whiff of anything. Nothing percolating...nothing bubbling up, nothing trickling down. I feel strangely empty and emptied.

No sparkle, no fizz. Dim as an expiring bulb. Flat as a pancake. Hook me up to an EKG machine and likely, it'll show my neurons have also flatlined.

This would have nothing to do with the recent bloodletting, now would it??

Well, some of it, 'Yes'
To my everlasting disadvantage and detriment, I almost always function almost entirely on rhythm (or rhyme). That being my first real health scare, it spooked the bejeebers out of me. My heart, it leapt into my throat. Made me like a guppy out of the fishbowl. For a while I was frantically gulping at the air. I completely lost it, my momentum. It made me miss a few steps, lose my place.

And some of it, 'No'.
I have a few things on my mind about my life. Decisions, decisions, decisions. All of them are pressing. Each second that ticks brings me closer to a deadline. Or a point of no return.

Procrastination. Like I keep telling myself, the number one way of dying from some illness is "putting off" going to the doctor. Ditto indecision. The surest way to becoming a boiled frog.

Will-O'-The-Wisp. That whimsical carousel going round and round and round, and the ponies jauntily rising up and down, gently up and down. Footloose and fancy free. Deceptively carefree. But the deeper, shadowy dimensions are truly and seriously daunting. Definitely not for play-play.

... and I am definitely not one of those people who has blogger phases. Can't (nay, won't) claim to be afflicted with that high falutin blogger's block. I just have a life and life phases…nothing is going on that is all that blogworthy, really. Not the santan-free Indian black pepper chix curry recipe that turned out superbly, to finger-lickin' compliments from family and friends. Or the Pilates instructor who tried to kill me.

Or the rat that turned up at one of my dead mailboxes, again.

A perky picker upper from Shakespeare's MacBeth':

"Come what may, time and hour runs through the roughest day."

Oh, My Poor Nose!

2005-08-14T05:30:00.000+08:00

REMEMBER HOW I spoke about “becoming invisible”?

Last week was the start of my season of ‘invisibility’ - keeping a low profile, my nose to the grindstone. The one great consolation of this new deal was, or so I thought, the location. Cyberjaya had two good things going: a jam-free daily drive and pollution-free air. All in all, a low population density/traffic that somehow engenders a liberating sense of being away from the “dog-eat-dog world”.

I was thinking: not-bad a trade-off: hard slogging spade-work for a ‘far-from-the-maddening-crowd’ freedom. And then, poof, the combo of nearby peat fires and smoke from Sumatran fires descended and shrouded Cyberjaya in a most foul-smelling cloak of invisibility.

My 'Becoming invisible’ turned out to be the very epitome of the Cyberjaya-irony [an envisioned futuristic city that was supposed to metamorphose into the most technologically advanced metropolis in the region, is in reality a barren desert isolated from civilization]. This most unexpected, undesired and unwelcome form of ‘invisibility’ turned into a harbinger of worse things to come. Perhaps I should have fled this ghost-city the very moment the Cyberjaya irony hit home. Or rather, when haze-induced invisibility hit my poor nose last week.

Remember I mentioned giving yourself massive nasal abrasions to get work done? Well, another irony of my desire for ‘invisibility’ in another self-fulfilling prophesy..

With my nose to the grindstone, I had absolutely no trouble keeping it out of gossip, or the desire to nose around for intrigues/opportunities, even less the inclination to plot to nose anyone out. And I swear I didn’t, not even for one nano-second look down my nose on the el-cheapo who nicked four pieces of my McVities on my very first day of work.

Nose to the Grindstone

And yet, that Thursday night, and the next, oh my poor nose! My poor bloody nose!

As I undressed for a shower, it bled for a full 5 minutes. Did I have my nose too close or did I pick too rough a grindstone? Was this a sign of the futility of my desires for invisibility, borne on ill winds?

Through that weekend, mild trickles turned to copious free-flows. Nose clamped, blood flowed down my throat and out of my mouth. Flows that took over 30 minutes to stem. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given my strong desire not to be the focus of attention), those episodes occurred in the company of two hundred other people who were attending the same – as luck would have it – healing seminar.

And irony upon ironies...

Amid much drama and unsolicited limelight, I was (thankfully) attended to by two fellow participants who coincidentally, were qualified ENT nurses. What more (though certainly thankful, I was nevertheless mortified at being spotlighted) the whole congregation, mostly from the healing ministries of various parishes led by Rev. Fr. Simon Pereira (CSSR, Singapore) prayed over me.

Another participant (by ‘happy [?] coincidence, an after-duty paramedic from Archbishop Emeritus, Dominic Vendargon’s funeral on Saturday) accompanied me to a nearby clinic where I was administered adrenaline to shrink the bloody bleeding vessel. The young lady GP nailed it down to the hot/dry/hazy weather.

Tuesday, at work, I bled again – this time, (thank God!), in the privacy of a toilet stall. In a flash, a warm trickle turned into a torrent. I flushed again and again as the water in the commode turned from pink to dark red. I knelt before the ‘throne’ for a full hour before the bleeding subsided. I was exhausted and literally drained when I emerged and returned to the grindstone.

Thursday night - a mild episode in the shower. All night, I prayed for respite for my poor nose. Friday, 4am - woke up, touched my nostrils and all hell broke loose. Compared to the Tuesday episode, I rated this one moderate. Things were under control in 35 minutes. At 5.30am, showered and dressed, I was planning for ‘business as usual’. In the car, folding tissues - just in case, and then, just like that, it started again. Despite having tissues on hand, the spurt came too fast and blood spilled all over my blouse and pants. 30 minutes sitting in my car, nose clamped and gurgling blood from my mouth, and staring at a pool of my own blood on the tarmac, I came to this realization:

‘Business as usual’ it wasn’t going be. I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t going to bleed driving someplace or at work. Bleeding five days out of seven, with increasing flow and frequency, I realized I needed, if not to banish the spectre of a tumour, at least to clarify the problem early. I needed specialist attention to investigate and remedy a potentially deadly problem.

I couldn’t risk driving myself to the hospital. But I loathed the visibility of my messy appearance, the alarm and horror it could invoke. Two hours later, in a clean set of clothes, I drove home to mum’s, all the while praying for a safe journey. Mum accompanied me to the hospital emergency doctor who took some blood and scheduled an ENT appointment for the afternoon. I was still ‘spotting’ when I returned to see the surgeon who promptly ordered a CT Scan. Pending the radiologist’s report, he treated me for infection and prescribed antibiotics, a decongestant and antihistamines. Yesterday morning, he advised that it was likely an infection, there were no signs of any tumour. An additional course of antibiotics was prescribed.

Oh, what blessed relief! Not just for my nose, but my heart as well.

This morning, with skies clearing, kind winds blowing and rains washing the haze away (sorry, Notherners!) I gave thanks to God Almighty, my Heavenly Father that visibility has improved tremendously and the air quality is no longer harzardous. And my heartfelt gratitude for sending such a strong ray of light to pierce through the haze in my life. In more ways than one, I can see much clearer and breathe much easier now.

Related: Becoming Invisible

Becoming Invisible

2005-07-31T18:31:00.000+08:00

I'VE JUST BEGUN a new phase.

I've gone under the gun and behind

I've got to keep my head down...

nose to the grindstone;

shoulder to the wheel;

ears to the ground;

I've got to keep my eyes peeled.

I've got to peck and plug away, slog across the swamp...

No time to shake a leg.

Or put a finger on the pulse.

Or keep an eye on the ball;

my nose to the winds of Blogosphere...

I will be working my fingers to the bone. With all that pecking, will I still be perky, spot? Was I ever? I dunno.. I do know that my noodles will be in hopeless tangles or even fried by day's end. I am fairly certain I will hardly have time to think or mull or brood or connect here. I am sure I will be quite invisible... most of the week anyway.

Oh, by the by, what is the origin of "nose to the grindstone"? Is there a profession that actually requires you to give yourself massive nasal abrasions to get work done?

Never heard such? Never mind. Try this anyway.

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: The Ethics of Seeing

2005-07-31T16:00:00.000+08:00

PLAIN THINGS MADE beautiful. Simple things made profound. Austere things made spiritual.

It is in ordinary places and things that she finds wonder and contemplation:

... trees that penetrate the deepest secrets of the Earth, that eloquently speak to the listening heaven;

... nostalgia marbles gently rolling in memories from a faraway time and place;

... absurd storybook whimsy caught in the harsh real world;

... young facades and aging features of buildings and street people;

and in the quotidian, the insignificant, the routine, the familiar.

She sees the unadorned beauty of nature and tries to communicate that spiritual energy in her photographs. She works with the concept of light and shadow to capture and convey the sacredness of the earth and its reflection of light.

She seems to enjoy portraying them with unusual coloration or perspective, perhaps quite beyond the range of our normal and limited range of senses, to give a feeling of what may exist outside of our ability to understand.

She uses photography to make spiritual expressions.

This is how she makes the ordinary extraordinary, the dismissible noteworthy, the useless instructive, the lowly worthy, the unlovely lovable and the insignificant magnificent.

Perhaps she finds a little humility in the face of creation.

She sees with a compassionate heart and mind. Through the lenses of a tender heart she touches a desolate and weary soul with immense pathos. A dried, dusty and destitute woman is made moving simply because this photographer found her worth looking at.

For she knows It is He who makes the raindrops small…

Casting her Photographing Eye on this lowly and suffering creature, she gently prods our stubborn hearts for relenting, tender spots. Transforming the profoundly unlovely and unloved into an angel with broken wings, she hold up to us an unlying mirror: a reflection of our own worn-out souls. She stirs our human conscience.

This very ethical way of seeing is also a perfect example of how photos are momento mori in that they let us participate in a person’s mortality and vulnerability. They also have the ability to help us to see our own potential for 'holiness'.

In an age where we perhaps have lost something of our spirituality in a vain, mad attempt to satisfy our basic needs with material acquisitiveness, this is one of the rare few places that can serve as an inspiration to help bring a spirit of peace and harmony to one's life, to uplift and soothe.

This, and another humble patch, amid all the cacophony, caterwauling and endless (sometimes mindless) chatter of the Malaysian Blogosphere.

Related: The Photographing Eye, The Inside Story, A Wuanderful World

Disclaimer:

The A Slice of Time, Experience Shared blog series is not motivated by any need or desire to please or displease any particular Photographing Eye. It is just a record of my own speculations about particular images I have found remarkable or thought-provoking. The observations are purely based on my own personal interpretations and intuitions.

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: A Wuanderful World

2005-07-28T13:11:00.000+08:00

Point. Shoot. Post. A 'no-frills' photoblog. No commentary accompany the beautiful photos. Just short captions. Sometimes, none. Occasionally, a one-liner describes her relationship with the subject. As if to explain why it deserves her attention, and, by extension, ours.

The world through her eyes appears to be one idealised by the wonders and beauty of God's creation. From such a point of view, it's easy to see why words may sometimes be superflous or inadequate.

When her photographing eye magnifies the finer details of the Creator's artwork, it seems to aim at achieving an experiential quality. Lensing herself to capture interesting shapes, incredible colors and unique textures, she ocassionally manage to deliver a subtle sense of atmospherics... as if the objects/subjects were tangibly within our reach, or, like we were there.

And when things magnificently vast, immeasurable and unfathomable confront her, it is presented to us in the only way possible - a miniature of the exact opposite. The matchless majesty, beauty and splendor the natural eye held, gets reduced to a visibly manageable frame, and is reduced to a miniscule and pale replica. The simple lesson we, doubtless, already know, is this: it is impossible to faithfully replicate Creation. Still, typical of all such panoramas, her celestial images strive hard to inspire. Nevertheless, not so much by design, but by default, they do not fail to captivate while pointing out a profound insight - the immense spatial proportions and the immeasurable immensity of the relationship between the Creator and the created.

Disclaimer:

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: The Inside Story

2005-07-26T13:45:00.000+08:00

RENDERED IN BLACK & white, the image of a 10-year-old momento in her photoblog invokes a mood that creates a pseudo presence, inciting us to reverie on the good ole days...

I find the shots with windows particularly fascinating. As a symbol, windows hold myriad meanings that elicit curiosity and invite speculation. They promise an interesting human interest story within.

Whether we are conscious of it or not, we all have an intuitive feeling about the windows we see. We’ll either like them, dislike them, or feel ambivalent about them. One can view windows as expressing openness or expressing fear of exposure. They can also represent interaction with the exterior environment or, in the case of shuttered and grilled windows, a defense against invasion.

the inside story

The ultimate wisdom of her window and tree shadows shots is that they present a surface that invites me to think: “Are they adorned with curtains? Are they bare? And if they have curtains, are the materials cold, cheerful, utilitarian, old...” Thus they make me feel and intuit... what is beyond it, the true story behind the shutters and panes...

And, as if in opppositional commentary to the 'defensiveness' of those two shots, the blogger fling her mental windows wide open and invites comments. and interacting with her reader-viewers, avails herself to potentially enriching perspectives to inform and hone her craft.

Related: The Photographing Eye.

Disclaimer:
The A Slice of Time, Experience Shared blog series is not motivated by any need or desire to please or displease any particular Photographing Eye. It is just a record of my own speculations about particular images I have found remarkable or thought-provoking. The observations are purely based on my own personal interpretations and intuitions.

The Photographing Eye

2005-07-23T15:06:00.000+08:00

THEY GIVE US a sense that we hold the entire world in our heads. They are not so much statements of the world, but pieces of it. They are experience captured.

Still objects or subjects viewed from unusual angles often not only delight the eye. A clever photographing eye can present them to us as a slice of time and space to promote nostalgia, evoke emotions, elicit responses and even reflect ourselves. A phototgraphic image is a random snip of time, place and memory that forms a loose story of a life lived.

A multitude of image banks, libraries and photoblogs provide a rich source of ideas that continually percolate in my mental mudpond. So while this blog is generally highly textual in content, most of the things blogged about here have often drawn inspiration from the textual analysis of images. They have provided excellent contexts for many of the thoughts that eventually flowered into published entries in this blog of mine.

And so it is, I am delighted with the recent debut of three photoblogs in the Malaysian Blogosphere. Through their photographing eyes, they not only offer us a different worldview, they can also show us a new or different way of seeing.

A Slice of Time, Shared Experiences is an upcoming blog series in which I will share my interpretations from their windows of the world and how photographs can change our notion of what's worth looking at.

The Diamond Glint

2005-07-21T15:03:00.000+08:00

A BOLD FEW have actually inquired. Oh-so-subtly, or cattily. Lady-like, they all had a sharp, bright gleam in their eyeshadow-accented eyes when they asked. They tell me they have caught it: the frequent but fleeting hints of glitter.

Well, it wasn’t the sparkle of my just-polished pearlies when I flashed my dazzling smile in greeting. Nor was it the mischievous glint in my eye as I engaged my dinner companions in scintillating conversation :P

Actually, it was when my fingers casually flicked my hair back as I stood beside my car and promised to meet up again soon, that the afternoon sun caught the diamond glints.

It was when I tossed my head back in happy laughter during the after-dinner conversation, that the downlights captured a cascade of tiny, tiny, shiny glints.

No, it wasn’t the winking in my ear-lobes or the swinging drop of brilliance dangling from my neck or the slithering shimmer encircling my wrists.

It is rather like the forgotten, tiny shred of silver tinsel on a dark green arm of the undressed Christmas tree, that quickly catches a child's hungry eyes. It didn't escape their sharp eyes and quicksilver minds. It held their piercing gaze and left them wondering. It left a faint smile on their glossy lips.

Well, I know I certainly have not earned it. Yet. Nor have I suddenly come into any inheritance.

It seems like only yesterday I was youthful. I awoke one morning this week to find more than a few gray hair strands where once only dark brown lived.

Curses!

I frantically parted my hair in the mirror, moaning in dismay at the perplexing arrival of the color gray. And then the next morning: more gray strands. Still more the following morning.

This can't be. Others get gray hair, not me. Of course it didn't happen overnight. But it's seemed that way.

This morning, I am an ascending old lady *sniff*

I must be greying at the grind. Like the workplace, my hair bulbs have become an "increasingly hostile place" for melanocytes to work properly. They are slowly losing the battle and my hair is becoming melanin-free.

Amid the hair not as luxurious as the days of yore, the (shallow) wrinkles have also arrived. A limber body is now visited by the odd stiffness. Amid all this, is born, a very hungry desire for sound investments.

Death is just around the corner, my precious.

Such being the case, I think I should wear it pixie-short from now on, whaddaya think? Should I dye it?

Why do flashes of silver or salt and pepper confer dignity on men and not women?

Curses!

Should I trade in my sparkling bright diamonds for the milky lustre of Mikimoto pearls?

Test: What’s your body’s real age

A Raining Grace

2005-07-17T13:45:00.000+08:00

AS A CHILD, I loved the rain. I have always loved the feel of splattering raindrops on my face and bare legs. I would often run wildly through the puddles, jumping forcefully, allowing the rain to pour over my head and into my eyes... and opening my mouth to taste the rain.

This childlike enjoyment of a refreshing, rinsing rain has remained with me in my adulthood. Dashing outside, face up to the pouring open skies is not unlike delving into a waterfall’s current. The overwhelming sensation of water flooding over is both mystical and magically superb, all at once cleansing and renewing.

The sight of swimsuit-clad kiddies shrieking in glee, jumping in and out of the sprinkler's range on a hot summer's day brings back fond memories of precious and precocious childhood. I still love frolicking in the rain.... the sloshing sound when I ‘accidentally’ step into a puddle and the delicious feeling of squishy shoes and happy toes afterwards.

I love the furious swish-swoosh and flip-flop of windshield wipers and the hiss of rubber tires on rainy streets.

I love the smell of wet grass and raincoats and shaggy coats of dogs... and the sensation of successive showers of soft splatters when the dog shakes and slags it all off.

I love the pitter-patter of heavy raindrops pelting and bouncing off the tightly stretched skin of the umbrella over my head when it’s raining cats and dogs... and the acute, thrilling awareness of my own precariousness: that I am but a mere membrane away from getting thoroughly soaked and drenched.

But more than anything else, I love rain for its power to make indoors seem snugger and safer. With a warm mug cupped between my palms, and looking out the window, rain makes home a refuge from everything outdoors that is un-home, unknown, unfathomable, unsafe...

It has been raining and raining over the past week. And yes, once again, there are signs of new life in the mudpond. Sprouting lettuce and budding water lilies. Busy bees a-buzzin' and butterflies a-flutterin'. And soon those wiggly tadpoles will turn into cute tiny froglets.

But I am reluctant to wander out.

The rain has been hiding much. Dragonflies are hovering and mating above the pond. They’ve been laying their eggs on the water plants. Soon the eggs will hatch into nymphs: tiny feared predators that can overpower the feisty little beady tadpoles and cut short their lives.

Just a-walkin in the rain.. getting soakin' wet...

Morning After

2005-07-16T14:20:00.000+08:00

IN THE MORNING after, watery sunlight makes a cobweb sparkle intermittently.

hard raindrops pelting
the spider's bejewelled web
turns a sparkling swing

Being Water

2005-07-14T12:04:00.000+08:00

WATER NEVER WAITS. It changes shape and flows around things and finds the secret paths no one else has thought about – the tiny hole through the roof or the bottom of a box.

There’s no doubt water is the most versatile of the five elements. It can wash away earth; it can put out fire; it can wear a piece of metal down and sweep it away. Even wood which is its natural complement can’t survive without being nurtured by water.

Waiting patiently doesn’t suit me. I have a great deal of H20 in my personality. And yet I haven’t drawn in those strengths in living my life.

We live our lives like water flowing down a hill. Going more or less in one direction until we splash into something that forces us to find a new course.

I am all puddles, ponds, lakes, and oceans.
I flow in savage splendor down rocky ravines,
laughing as the sound of torrential, thundering water
bounces and echoes from the rocks.

Journey into Nature: A Spiritual Adventure, Michael J. Roads

In Sibilance

2005-07-13T14:30:00.000+08:00

ONE WORD HAS snaked into my consciousness, these days.

Sisu
double syllabled
doubly sibilant
the second reiterating,
reinforcing the first.

Sisu
hissing with clarity
something coiled-up
deep within
the psyche.

Sisu
In the torrent-fractured
landscape of the heart
seek and draw upon
an indomitable spirit

Know it?

The Risk of Pleasure

2005-07-12T12:30:00.000+08:00

IN HIS BOOK The Exquisite Risk, poet and philosopher Mark Nepo affirms that there are essentially two responses to life - a risky opening up to love and a controlling move into success and isolation.

Well, pleasure is a risk. Of letting go. Yourself - body, heart and soul. You risk losing control. It is a risk of drowning in the exquisite sensation of joy. But you will have to surface sometime. That's the bargain.

Is it worth it? Is it a fair bargain?

And relatedly:

God breaks the heart again and again and again until it stays open.
Hazrat Inayat Khan quoted by Mark Nepo.

The Sparkle of Joy

2005-07-09T14:13:00.000+08:00

IF EXUBERANCE WERE a season, it would be spring; if it were a libation, it would be champagne. And champagne would not be champagne without the magical presence of bubbles: the sparkle born of the long marriage of the yeasts and the wines.

Bubbles are the gift of effervescence, the sparkle of irrepressible joy that infects. The contagiousness of laughter, the giddiness of new love, the intoxicating effects of music and of the euphoria of success.

Champagne's bubbles form a pearl necklace on the surface of the wine. They are plentiful, lively and delicate.

Intense and exuberant, effervescence's rush is fleeting, its sparkling joy, fragile. At some point, the bubbles dissipate, go flat. Or burst. A change of glass will not help.

Exuberance has crossed that thin line, when one is exposed and vulnerable to nature's disappointments -- like the famous snowflake chronicler Wilson Bentley was when he beheld "a wonderful little splinter of ice, incredibly fragile," only to weep at the "tragedy" of its premature melting.

Likewise, when cartwheels abort, in life's disappointments. But never mind. Exuberance, according to Dr Kay Redfield Jamison, author of Exuberance: The Passion for Life, "is a gift of grace that allows us to move on, to seek, to love again." If all were effervescent, the world would be an exhausting and chaotic place, driven to incoherence by competing enthusiasms.

Champagne everyday would make us indifferent to the down-to-earth and mundane requirements of everyday life. It would make us ambivalent to the sparkle of joy in simple pleasures. Such as, the earth laughing, in flowers.

The Solution to All Things

2005-07-09T12:40:00.000+08:00

THE IDEOLOGY OF romance is a narrative constructed around a quest: 'love' is the solution to all things; 'love' makes us complete; 'love' makes us full; 'love' makes us whole...

Like the search for 'love', consumption implies an incompleteness; something missing.

The ideology of consumerism – the promise that it makes is that (like 'love') consumption is the answer to all our problems: makes us whole, full, complete again.

I have consumed copiously. All pigged out, all shopped out.

My Cup Runneth Over

2005-07-06T11:15:00.000+08:00

IT'S BEEN GATHERING over the past months. Has grown bigger than words can say. Came up yesterday and swallowed me, whole. I’m now drinking in the torrents.

Crystal stream
sliding down
curved flesh
broken breath
aching sigh
expression of
infinte sorrow.

No pinging this week. Or next...

If I Ran the Zoo

2005-07-03T21:00:00.000+08:00

NOW, I DON'T like holes. Especially not tiny, dark and poop-encrusted ones. And to have to share such a filthy, stinky hole… No way, Jose! Get out of my way! Not even if you are the brightest in a bunch of bananas.

I’m not a pigeon, oh kay?!

I don’t bother with personality tests. Not even where the 'test designer' has the marbles (pun not intended) to come up with 10 different species of pigeons you might share or swop your genes with. To be sure, the effort to one-up the usual 4 narrow dimensions is noteworthy. Noteworthy, that’s all. But definitely not something to be taken seriously.

Oh, maybe that’s just the whole point.

It’s just for fun.

I just love whimsical children’s tales and Dr Seuss' "If I Ran the Zoo" is a chuggin’ trainload of fun. Here is life lived as a fantastical experience that’s lit by an imagination that shimmers and bursts like fireworks. It’s a joyride of verse and ridiculous creatures.

"And then, just to show them,
I'll sail to Ka-Troo
And Bring Back
an It-Kutch
a Preep and a Proo
a Nerkle
a Nerd
and a Seersucker, too!"

Actually, I kinda like this small, comically angry-looking humanoid creature. So in the spirit of fun, I took this test I found in the blog belonging to a spotty mouse named anony. [Birds are for males, apparently]

What’s a nerd? you ask.

Someone with objectionable habits or traits. . . . An uninteresting person, a 'dud', I believe.

And might a nerd want to roost with a geek in the same pigeonhole? you wonder.

Hey, I think not, since I already find him/her so ‘square’. And a geek is... ermm.. err… uhm… well, the alphabets that spell 'geek' are so rolly, curly one, mah… [don't notice meh? sheesh!]

Anyway, back to the test.

Well, after some nerdy work, I discover that really, I’m more nerdy than only 25% of people. Ah so. Well, I’m definitely not qualified to answer your gerdy, neeky questions, then.

But no worries, peeps. These bloggers know a whoppin' truckload about such ridorkulous creatures.

Oh kay. Apparently, it would be insulting to a nerd, to be pigeon-holed with a geek. Ah… I so can feel for you, you nerd :D

Now, wartabout dweebs and dorks? Anyone?

oh, horrors! ah pink piang!

A Bunch of Grapes

2005-07-03T12:44:00.000+08:00

I WAS UP with the lark this Sunday morning. Full of pep and zest. All synapses firing and raring to go.

Quite unlike most days when I need a full 45 minutes to let the music gently help Mr. Sandman dawdle out. Every muscle wants to flex. My spirit is bubbly, there's a spring to my step. I nearly skipped my way to the market... and gee... even my hair bounces ~_~

I feel like a bunch of grapes growing toward the sun ^_^

Haha... what a quirky, kooky, peculiar thought!

Hmmm... When I'm feeling fully 'alive' like this, I feel like bursting out into the sunshine, jumping onto a trampoline or heading out to the hills. But not today. There are Sunday things to do and Sunday places to go. But I don't feel like the usual Sunday Reflection thing, either.

One irrepressibly bouncy tune just keeps skittering inside my head. It makes me wanna wiggle a little even while I'm at the keyboard.

Waittaminit. Something I said a few sentences earlier just connected.

That's right! It's Never on a Sunday! Click on it.　Even if you're feeling Sunday stiffness because you're not my age ~_^ you probably still can feel what I mean．

Ｏｔｈｅｒｉｓｅ，　ｙｏｕ　ｓｈｏｕｌｄ　ｊｕｓｔ　ｃｒａｗｌ　ｂａｃｋ　ｔｏ　ｂｅｄ．　

Not So Farnee Airnee More

2005-07-02T14:51:00.000+08:00

SO WAS IT a good thing? The feme I mean. After the euphoria… the fallout:

#1 One ‘ugly’ pic sends her saham crashin' ;P

#2 One Dear minishorts letter leads to 'mature content alert' and a dedicated entry to kids in raunchy blog.

#3 Same pretty blogger was later stopped at road block… on suspicion of being Tai Lok Mui [this may be unrelated but, well she's femes, so it's NEWS]

#4. Bystander casualty - 5xmom… go and see lah.

#5. BOTY just feted in Singapura – returns to a thwaking by angry g/fs (other people’s as far as one can see)

More to come? Was it a good thing?

The moment they were selected, they became unwitting Ambassadors of the Malaysian Blogosphere. Role model expectations were literally thrust upon them. Not just from the public, but from fellow bloggers as well.

1. So was this Malaysian Blog Idols (borrowed expression from Screenshots) a good thing?

2. Actually, 'good' for who?

3. How can all this attention and publicity be turned into a really good thing, for the bloggers and Bloggosphere? Turn from adversity to opportunity?

If it doesn’t seem so fun, glam or farnee anymore, it’s because of a simple truism: there is a price to pay for fame. Every celebrity - Princess Di, Tom Cruise, J Lo, David and/or Victoria Beckham et al… past, present and future paid, pays and will pay. The thing is how to make feme worthwhile. Talent casting for ads, movies, spokeman, publishers, ... C'mon marketing professionals, any ideas?

Anyway, for better or for worse, this too shall soon pass. News today, fishwrap tomorrow. So, better make hay while the sun shines. Cheers :)

A Big Deal

2005-07-01T16:52:00.000+08:00

I HADN'T EVER thought it something necessary to explain, but it’s come up then, and now and then. In ways mundane as the weather. Or hazardous as fireworks.

It has merited its own dedicated entry, so it’s obviously blogworthy. Some bloggers feel obliged to offer a polite explanation for their practice. Some have absolutely no need for it. And there are also people who feel compelled to come up with a policy on it.

Etiquette, gratis, protocol... but not everyone finds a request flattering, it could lead to a cyber slugfest.

Means of congeniality. Cause of acrimony. A toolbox. A tinderbox.

Uhm... it can get you dissed or worse :P

Okay, preface loaded. Or was that a loaded preface? *evil grin* No matter. The point is, linking don't seem to be the small deal I originally thought it to be. I hereby revise my earlier opinion. So okay, let me now tell you the what, why and how of my link list, then.

I’m still a neophyte blogger, naturally, I’m still trying to get to know all the blokes... oops... blogs on the block. I'm still scoping blogs, or as the movie production guys might put it, still recee-ing the scene.

Yes, I know recee-ing is done before the shoot, not after, but hey PPS alone has over 1400 members. What about those that don’t *ping*, those you chance upon like a shiny coin on the road - in someone’s post or link list? Were I to check them ALL out before starting to blog, I’ll never have blogged or shot anything, right?

Oops.. digressed.

Just as I give myself time to get to know a person, I’ll also monitor a particular blog over a period of time to acquaint myself with the blog(ger). And so it is, over time, some links will disappear while new ones appear, as I get round to them. Some links come, some links stay, some links go, lah!

Along with my news and resources links, those that stay have obviously entrenched themselves into my daily blog diet. They are habitual, no, addictive clicks; some of which I even visit a few times a day.

On both ends of this link continuum are blogs I NEVER link. That does not mean I don't visit them. Some I visit occasionally, a few, regularly. The former, when they turn up at Petaling Street - if the entry title entices, I click lah! The latter, aiya! they're so wildly popular or femes, links to them are literally scattered helter-skelter, mana-mana aje boleh dapat. Why bother creating links when you can just pick them up wherever you happen to be? :) No need to link, lor.

Yarp*, that’s it. Why and how I link. I think ^_^ So you? What about you ah?

My apologies, this is one of those days I find myself scraping the barrel for a blog topic.

* expression borrowed without permission, from t-boy. Link "aje lah", as they say :)

Vis: What's A Blog Worth?

2005-06-30T13:01:00.000+08:00

JAMES HAS A well-informed take on the Visa case. And Jordan, commenting in James' entry raises an interesting point about blog names. [Btw, is MACVAYSIA also a trading name?]

"Good thing there's only one MACVAYSIA

Now, I have a couple, no several (maybe silly) questions to ask. Would some kind soul care to enlighten me vis:

I notice that most blogs seem to have assumed copyright of their contents under that Creative Commons License thingy. But what about the blog itself? If you deem your blog content worth protecting under the Intellectual Property Act, is it not also worthwhile to register your blog name? Can you register a blog since it's not a business entity and is not for profit? Or with Adsense, is the blog 'for profit', after all?

Like, for instance, is Screenshots registered? Do it have a TM (trade mark) pending? Should our femes blogs register themselves with the Trade Mark Office? Can they? Imag

What's to stop one from setting up a mirror site with a closely similar name like say, Screenshot (in singular)? What if no profit is involved but it compromises or corrupts the integrity of your blog, and perhaps, by extension the blogger's reputation? Imagine a sweet, sweet minishot blog loaded 100% aspartame content... Is not your 'reputation' worth protecting? ;P

I am feeling somewhat dim about this issue. Can anyone shed some light?

While it may very well be not worth Blewtooth's while to hang on to the domain name, perhaps there is an overarching issue (is there, you think?) of what a blog is worth?

1000 Women of Peace

2005-06-30T09:52:00.000+08:00

A record of 199 individuals and groups have been nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize. Among the groups nominated is 1000 PeaceWomen.

"1000 is a symbol. It is a symbol of saying: peace is not a dramatic activity but rather is accomplished bit by bit. Peace is not an individual act. You cannot make peace alone. "

~Kamla Bhasin, Projektkoordinatorin India~

The project serves to recognise and acknowledge the commitment of women who work for peace. Experts in their own fields, they commit themselves daily to the cause of peace and justice, often under the most difficult circumstances.

The names of the 1000 Partners for Peace from over 50 countries, jointly nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize 2005 has just been released. Publication of their names is to serve the long- term public awareness of these women's work and is not intended to influence in any way the decision of the Nobel Committee.

And among these courageous 1000 women who are beacons of hope to their own peoples are Malaysians Zainah Anwar, founder of Sisters in Islam and Tenaganita director Irene Fernandez.

More profiles on Irene Fernandez and Zainah Anwar.

Also among the other 98 joint-nominees of 1000 PeaceWomen are: 3 Singaporeans, 6 Aussies, 91 Indians, 9 Nepalis, 11 Afghans, 16 Bangladeshis, 4 Burmese, 8 Cambodians, 81 Chinese, 9 from Hong Kong, 18 Taiwanese, 23 Indonesians, 2 Iraqi, 6 Japanese....

Illumining

2005-06-27T10:52:00.000+08:00

IGNORANCE is the cause of a lot of sorrow; it wants to conquer,
while KNOWLEDGE wants to illumine.

disabled: Inoperative: a disabled vehicle. Impaired, as in physical functioning: a disabled veteran; disabled children.
Technology: Turned off. Not active. "Disabled" does not mean broken or in disrepair. It typically refers to software that has numerous options, or features, that are selectable by the user. If the option is disabled... that function is no longer active.

enable: render capable or able for some task.

Technology: To turn on; activate.

When it comes to disability issues, in this digital era, the technology meanings obviously hold particular and significant relevance and I hasten to add, empowerment. The meanings suggest we can choose to enable or disable our software aka mindsets.

And so, the Enabling Education Network has a simple yet profound insight that I'll bet you already knew anyway:

It is attitudes that disable.

So, whose attitude should we start with? The answer, like any light bulb moment, is so startlingly clear. It pierces the fog of ignorance, making it too painful for some to eyeball.

It starts with disabled people: their attitude towards themselves and their disability.

[I'm reproducing a long section from an article 'Attitudes and Disability' here]

The harsh reality is that if disabled people themselves see themselves as victims, then they will be treated as victims; if they are sunk into self-pity, they will be perceived as pathetic; if they are hostile towards non-disabled people, they will be shunned; but if they refuse to see themselves as victims, if they claim their own dignity, see themselves as positive and able to contribute, they will be seen as positive and able to contribute.

This is not at all the same as saying that disabled people should be quiet, stop complaining, and settle for some kind of half-life. Absolutely not. The issue for disabled people is ultimately one of self-esteem, of refusing to accept the role of victim. There are many different ways of expressing that dignity, but it lies at the heart of whatever choice disabled activists make, whether strongly militant or quietly persistent.

And in the words of Rachel Hurts of Disabled People's International:

'Social change initially comes from us, from disabled people. It has to.'

Okay, that's enough knowledge for now. Illumination is a process... Meanwhile, here's the article exerpted from the book Disability, Liberation and Development.

Yes, let our innernet of consciousness expand with new awareness and awakening sensitivities. Betcha, can’t get more 'First World Mentality' than this, can you? :)

"A life that is not examined, is not worth living."

Socrates

Twinkle, Twinkle, Ping! Ping!

2005-06-26T13:17:00.000+08:00

Yes, Bloggers 'r' us. And how...

Such fickle and inconstant lovers are we. How we hate and love and hate our feme the twinkling ding-a-ling press gave us. How we alternatively hate and love the power they wield and can confer on us - still.

Ping! Ping! Ping! ... see how our emotions swing.

Just when are we ever gonna get it? Actually, do we even want to get it?

Really, it’s only business, lah.

Admit it. With or without Google Adsense, it also makes damn good Ping-Ping-sense. What could make more business sense for bloggers than that? If we really want to be honest about it, that is.

How many PPS pings in the past two weeks, do you reckon are owed to that loverly - or is it blardy now? - twinkling little star?

Compassion's Disabling Companion

2005-06-26T06:18:00.000+08:00

COMPASSION:
Literally, suffering with another; a sensation of sorrow excited by the distress or misfortunes of another; pity; commiseration. "Womanly ingenuity set to work by womanly compassion." Macaulay.

Must Compassion always be accompanied and disabled by her undesired and undesirable companion? Can she ever be free to restore human dignity and worth - all by herself?

One person exemplifies this virtue and ethic. The Saint of Gutters and international symbol for devotion to the poor, destitute and dying. She won the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize for bringing hope and dignity to millions of society’s rejects. She dedicated nearly 50 years of her life to them.

Nearly fifty years. Nearly half a century. A lifetime for some of us. And many lifetimes for some of her beneficiaries. She restored their human dignity and worth, not by the subtleties of nice words, but by hard toiling work and tender compassion:

"Mother, so long I have lived as an animal,

now I am dying as an angel."

Okay, so maybe we can't all be saints. Let's just be our normal honest selves then, shall we?

A Sunday Reflection: A Poem to Sit With

Rethinking Disability

2005-06-25T21:44:00.000+08:00

HERE'S A DIFFERENT way of thinking about disability and happiness...

Strangers on the street are moved to comment:

"I admire you for being out; most people would give up.
God bless you! I’ll pray for you.
You don’t let the pain hold you back, do you?
If I had to live like you, I think I’d kill myself."
(or, " I don't know if I would have had the courage to live")

Actually we say that a lot, online as well, don't we? Even when we haven't yet met them.

But have we ever considered how such a (so-called) 'compassionate' response might actually reflect on the social worth we place on differently abled persons?

" I used to try to explain that in fact I enjoy my life, that it’s a great sensual pleasure to zoom by power chair on these delicious muggy streets, that I have no more reason to kill myself than most people. But it gets tedious."

Think about it. How your compassion really reflects on your beliefs.

View From Above

2005-06-25T09:33:00.001+08:00

JUST WHEN I thought I understood things somewhat, along comes this view from the 19th floor. It makes me realise I really know twat all.

He is a lawyer and a novelist.

Once, when he was a child, he could hold a pencil. Now at age 31, his range of motion is mostly limited to wiggling his thumbs and toes. His head has to be propped up with a towel. Headsets help him control most of his activities - one to emulate the mouse on his computer, another to use the phone, and a third to respond to verbal commands. He was born with SMA.

He is a funny storyteller. Laughing, he said this:

"Most of my interaction with the world occurs via my head … you could probably cut it off and put it in a jar a la ‘Futurama’ and I would still have a productive life,”

Chewing is difficult so mostly, he ingests his meals through a feeding tube. He weigh only 75 pounds and requires 24-hour care.

"My reason for blogging is simple: In a life where I have to depend on others for everything, writing is one thing that I can do independently.”

And there are two things he doesn’t like. To be called a role model or an inspiration.

Pity

2005-06-24T17:36:00.000+08:00

I HAVE BEEN mulling on one word.

Pity

What is pity? Is it feeling sorry towards something? Is it useful, does it help the subject of your pity? Or sympathy?

My friend Jane attends morning mass daily. Thanks to her, I recently discovered the joys and graces of reciting Lauds and Vespers to begin and end my day. Jane has given me a gift I can never ever hope to repay.

Lately, Jane has been getting me to lead the recitation of Lauds.

Now, I am not particularly fond of the mike. I wriggle out of public speaking whenever I can get away with it. I can expend a great deal of brain power to come up with disproportionately elaborate plots and schemes to cop out.

When Jane first asked me to fill in for someone who did not turn up, a small miracle happened. I didn’t hesitate. Not even for a nano second. I said "yes". No excuses came to mind.

Copping out on Jane is unthinkable.

Jane has been a commentator in the church for over ten years. She has a lovely mellow and calm voice. Perfect diction. Faultless pronunciation. When she reads, you feel drawn to the words that spill from her lips in perfect timing and pitch. To put it rather clumsily, Jane speaks, erm… musically.

It didn’t turn out too bad, actually. My tongue didn’t freeze or trip, the words rolled off quite easily. My throat didn't hurt. I still have to work on the intonations though.

Jane is like my speech therapist. She is my role model, an inspiring one. Ever since she became my trainer and friend, I have dropped one word from my vocabulary.

Pity.

There's just too much connotation to this word. Pity doesn't help anything. Pity is terrible because you are elevating yourself above another when you pity.

Jane has a confidence that is immensely reassuring. The serenity in her voice is instantly comforting. She is a woman of great dignity. To people like Jane, pity is useless and condescending.

Jane is forty-something. She is wheelchair bound. She is a Thalidomide victim. She was born with no legs at all. Pity does nothing for her except to denigrate her. Pity is an insult to someone who can hold you captive with just her voice.

And I understand where she's coming from, perfectly, when she said this:

“It can get frustrating when you meet people and the first thing you see in their eyes is pity when they know little to nothing about you.”

Then, there is this simple wisdom:

pity = give a man a fish, feed him for a day.

empathy = teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime.

This might help you appreciate why pity is a natural instinct we should learn to resist.

Oh, by the way, I am dropping another word from my vocabulary.

Disabled

I am replacing it with 'differently abled'

If you had clicked on the link (and read the entire article), you will understand perfectly well, why 'differently abled' is a better way of seeing and feeling, of empowering and affirming their dignity. Try it, I urge you.

Ping Board Jammed!!

2005-06-24T13:58:00.000+08:00

Hey, for the past hour, I have been trying to ping my UPDATED One stop Ping-Ping Bash Page without any luck. Each time it was "ping successful" but did not show up!! Neeways see if this slips in...

Update: Hehe.. now I know exactly how good Aiz is in barring multiple pings...

One Stop Ping-Ping Bash Page

2005-06-24T10:28:00.000+08:00

See, I TOLD YOU SO!!!

Suanie should have emceed! HEH! HEH! HEH!

Question: What’s worse than a party pooper?

Answer: A Smartass Party Pooper Critic, of course!!

^_^ :D ^_^

So, seeing as how it was a double blow that I didn’t get to go and all; and seeing as how I did not win the Neophyte Award… *sob* *sob* *wheeze* ...I claim the priviledge to rub it in… I TOLD YOU ALL SO!!

cheez... ^_~

Ah well, that silliness out of the way... so on behalf of all PPS members, I’d like to congratulate all the three winners. Still don’t know who they are? Toughie Luckie, I'm sooky, I ain’t spellin' it out here. So click the links, silly!! :D

We'd also like to congratulate Aiz for his dedication in parenting PPS, organising the Bash….... bala bla..

and everyone who pinged:

... on ideas for the PPS BASH

... in the memorable run-up to the BASH that unwittingly made celebrity bloggers of the Femmes Four aka Bloggers'r' us

... that led to the rise of blogger fanship,

... that overflowed with joy, jeles rants and femes words about the blogwhores'r'us,

... and those who pinged the winners' announcement even before the party was over, so the Party Poopers and Sookers who stayed up would know who just became femes...

... and the frenetic flood of pings that has been flowing since the party ended...

So this here, for your convenience, is the full list of pings-to-date on the Bash, all in one page!

Howzat for one-stop service eh? Aren't I a sweet loser? :)

They Were There!!

A Mystery No More ~~~~ Bitchin’ ‘bout the Stupid Bashers

Bash the Bash (jk) ~~~~ Mini Bash Ditty ~~~~ Ping of The Year

Daddy Ping Ping ~~~~ Sexy leggy Aloe Vera Thief

All Talk, No Show ~~~~ He missed the hulabaloo

The Image Predator ~~~~ She-should-have-emceed!

N-Other-No-show-Geek ~~~~ Bash Could Have Been Better

O Glorious Bash ~~~~ Promise u stars but my lens wasn’t there

Drunken Tiger ~~~~ Incoherent & Random Ping ~~~~ Cyber Kiasu

The Idiot JO Quoted ~~~~ Ranty Nicky ~~~~ Rawkin' Bash Album

Kiasu Eye Witness Account ~~~~ Copycat account ~~~~ lainie

Neophyte Blog of the Year ~~~~ After the Bash ~~~ The Bash VIDEO!

WoW Again! ~~~~ tsk..tsk..Jolene ~~~~ Pee-sy Bash ~~~~ HOT BASH!

Party Pooper ~~~~ Spooky Basher ~~~~ BM Blogger ~~~~ Lobak

Lisansoprano's BASH Album ~~~~ Bash with Loads ~~~~ Eyebash

The Partee ~~~~ Narrowband's Pics ~~~~ suanie's album rawks

minishort report ~~~~ bits-n-explicit ~~~~ loopykiasu: take 2

rub the femes ~~~~ din'z link ~~~~ Bash Pic of the Year

Basher from Penang ~~~~ AIESECers Collide ~~~~ BP Obliges

The Emperor's Gallery ~~~~ CHiQ's entry

The Party Poopers and Sorry Sookers:
#1 Ping on Ping Ping Bash Awards!! ~~~~ #1 Apple Polisher

Double Whammy Non-Attendee
Ping Ping Bash and Mal aysian Blogger quiz Sucks
Eh? Walauwei? ~~ *Sobby* Blogger ~~ Bali is Beautifuller than the Bash
Too Far for His Eyes to See ~~ Demystified ~~ Serious tots ~~ LcF

KahSoon ~~ Mata Sepet ~~ mumsgather ~~ BooHoo ~~ Wingz3

mycuppa ~~ bawang
Now where's that promised press splash on our new celebrities ?

Gee whiz.. I just realised I have unwittingly transformed into a hits-whore... shit! this thing is addictive, infectious, it's fun!!!

Ping Ping Disqualified!!

2005-06-23T16:36:00.000+08:00

WAH! WAH! No Fair! *SOB* *SOB*

[if you are one of my rare and precious few visitors, you may be perplexed or puzzled at the change in my style of blogging lately. Ok, I'm practising to be a drama queen. I am also experimenting with self-deprecation, self-pity... and verifying a communication theory on blog cultures.]

Not only I can't go to the Ping Ping Bash tonite, I'm also disqualified from the "Which Malaysian Blogger Are You Quiz"!!! How lousy is that??

I barely got past Q1 on age, and then, stump the sucky silly stars @#*€^!#@... this!!

3. How much of your identity do you dare reveal to complete strangers online?
A) Nil. No name. No pictures. I want to be completely anonymous.
B) I'll tell you my name. But no revealing pictures.
C) I'll tell you my name and I'll shamelessly camwhore for you.
D) I'll tell you my name, I'll shameless camwhore for you, and I'll even give out my phone number for you to SMS me!

There isn't the option of "None of the above" like any good ole multi-choice questionnaire should have. Hrrrmmphh :(

How ah??!!

As you can clearly see, I dare show my face, but not my name. Because I happen to think that whereas a name is more permanent (less easy to change) the face/look we have is ever-changing through age or else, just as easily transformed through means of clever make-up, radical hairstyling/sculpting/colouring, funky spectacle frames and such deceitful and age-concealing forms of art... (cosmetic surgery being an extreme measure).

Going by even the most current photo, chances are you will not recognise me should I (it would take a miracle, this) turn up at Charlie's for the Bash tonite.

Is my notion of anonymity really so unusual, abnormal, improbable, ridiculous or what? Like most personality quizzes, this one certainly retains the silly and faulty genes of stereotyping.

Oh nebermine...

Optimist, that I am, let me salvage -- *snort* -- something from this silly disqualification, for self-consolation. It simply means, my blogger profile cannot be replicated. I am not your typical Malaysian Blogger. There's none like me. Which is just great by me! ;P

So there, squareheads!

paffft!!

Oh, by the by... Happy Birthday, PPS... :D A favour, please if you're going ... when you all toast, please can you charge your glass and *ping* *ping* on my behalf? If I can't be there in person, then it'd be so nice to be there, if only in spirit!!

Bloggers'r'us: The Courtship

2005-06-22T21:24:00.000+08:00

I KNEW IT! I saw it coming. I smelt it in the air!

If this isn't an outright courtship, then I don't know chalk from cheese.

Is this the beginning of a Great Love Affair with the soapbox?

Aaww... how sweet! how exciting!

Love is a many splendored thing, don't you think? Hey, dudes and duddettes, it's like Oscar Night! Go hunt down the glad rags, rings and things, get a haircut, get your nails done... get a makeover!!

muaharhar... :D

F4: Fan Fans Flames of Fame

2005-06-22T13:24:00.000+08:00

AH, CELEBRITY. Everybody loves a celebrity. The fame, the fans. And how, a fan can fan the flames of fame. Or fragrance. Or pungent fumes.

Everyone wants a piece it. Even, apparently, the flies. That is, the bandwidth busting that comes with the fame. If you're currently out in the cold, (yes, I do mean outside the circle of fame) a piece of any action even remotely related to the celebrity will warm others to your blog.

It’s the drawing power of celebrity - a phenomenon that’s been around since the dawn of marketing.

Celebrity sells.

Celebrity can also be benevelont. In marketing jargon, it's known as borrowed equity. Celebrity presence can bestow upon you and/or your blog a special attraction and appeal you otherwise would not (ever hope to) have. The bare facts, as it were... Heheh! :P

OK, like I am a dumb novice blogger. Clueless even about trackbacks and all those fancy bells and whistles that make a bogger look like a real pro. My visitor stats attest to my hopelessness in promoting my blog. See, got no disclaimers to scare you away also. Got no bland Google Ads to distract either. At the rate I’m going, there isn't the remotest possibility that my bandwidth will ever come close to busting. *snort*

Alright, I will not expound further on fanning the flames of celebrity power. I will leave such serious discourse to the qualified marketing or consumer behaviour guru blogger.

But like I told you, I wasn’t exaggerating. Look how celebrities like Oprah Winfrey and Paris Hilton have parlayed their stardom into ranges of own-label goods that often have little to do with whatever earned them their fame.

Likewise with celebrity bloggers into matters, thus and thus.

I just love Bloggers 'r' us . Right now I’m one of it’s biggest fans. The phenomenon, not the bloggers. I outgrew that sort of thing a long, long time ago.

Fridiculous Four or F4 or whatever name makes them 'look together', will remain, long after those pages of newsprint have yellowed or degraded from being smelly fishwrap. But the euphoric moments of the fleeting phenomenon of 'ordinary moments made extraordinary' by nationwide MSM coverage – hey you gotta catch its benevolent radiance while it lingers in the air.

It gives me something to blog about - without busting my bandwidth (what a preposterously wishful, nay, fridiculous idea!) or my brain :P

I'll blog about it while it lasts. To echo Edrei, So there! ^-~

Blogger 'r' us: Name The Fame!

2005-06-21T09:22:00.000+08:00

IN THE SPIRIT of jubilation over the positive spin on Bloggers 'r' us and in the spirit of celebration of noticeably less adversarial feelings towards the MSM... (peace is always good)

In the spirit of the moment, here's a new game:

Name the Fame

"… so the four of us, the Featured 4 would look like we're together on this. What should we called ourselves? Featured 4... F4!) "
~Kenny Sia in "The Fame, the shame"~

And, here’s my take:

** Featured Four sounds kinda lame. More than four bloggers got featured in MSM in recent times. [MSM equates fame, still... hmmm]

** F4 reminds me too much of …Formula Racing… F for ‘Fail’... for F**K... for Fag... for Fart or Fluff <*pffft*> ... nearly all 4 Fs guaranteed to put moms and dads OFF blogs and blogging!

** Fab Four – Heh!!! Just like the Beatles! Oh, but it 's sooo 60s... apart from Peter, the other femmes three are children of the 80s. Nah, no 'together' spirit, like what Kenny wants.

** Femmes Four. Aaah! I like this. Reminds me of the Famous Five. 'femmes' is so quintessentially blog-lingo. (so ok, I tweaked the spelling, but it’s no exaggeration. In the spirit of the moment, please, no nitpick, please don't defame me in your femes blog :D)

So, whaddaya think? What should they call themselves?

Psst... any prizes for coming up with a good name at the PPS Bash or not? :D

Pssst... I'm posting this all in the spirit 'cos I'm out of town and can't be at the PPS Bash tonite. *sniff* {:[

Ambassadors of Malaysian Blogosphere

2005-06-20T15:42:00.000+08:00

THEY'RE IN SEVENTH heaven.

They’re now members of a special circle. The circle of fame. They’ll be stealing, oops, sharing the limelight with the PPS Award Winners. They’ll be the toast of the PPS Bash. Along with the PPS Award Winners.

Congrats all. Kenny Sia, minishorts, Peter Tan and Suanie.

The New Celebrities of Petaling Street. Ambassadors of the Malaysian Blogosphere

Enjoy your new-found fame. Share it with your friends, let them bask in the glow of your fame, yes, plug them in your posts.

Let your blogs, your friends' blogs shout out to all the world what bloggers are about, what blogs can be and what blogs can do. For Bloggers'r'us and for the culture of blogging.

Now use your new-found fame and influence well, all ye ambassadors of the Malaysian blogosphere.

;P :D

Dirty Little Minds

2005-06-19T20:43:00.000+08:00

CUSS WORDS EMBROIDERING cyber-talk. Profanity, a new grammer to the art of conversation.

Porn-y fairytales.

Blog posts of sexploits as graphic as bare-all pictures. Tales as tall as houses.

Do we blink?

Art and Porn.

Fantasy and reality.

If it’s all the same to you, what’s a child to think?

Hard core cyber sex is just a click away. Internet pornography is pervasive, and seemingly unstoppable. Teenagers learn what sex looks like, sounds like, in all its extreme permutations.

On the cusp of sexual experience, do they believe in its unrealistic depiction: all girls are Brazilian bikini-waxed nymphomaniacs; good sex amounts to "harder, harder" penetration; boys are devoid of tenderness?

Panic and criticism - simplistic responses to the natural (and unstoppable) curiosity of young people about sex.

Take the smutty little idea round the backstreet and quietly smother it. No wait, better give the filthy thing a public flogging. Scorn and derision. Sneers and jeers. That should kill the curious little kittens living inside our teenagers.

SILENCE OF THE DIRTY LITTLE INQUIRING MINDS.

Splendid idea.

Really?

I seem to be on a roll. I have absolutely no idea why. Please do excuse me.

Smile, Dad

2005-06-19T17:40:00.000+08:00

FATHER'S DAY HAIKU

my stone-faced dad --
if only you could come home!
beaming a smile...

SPG: Back Under Wraps

2005-06-19T12:45:00.000+08:00

WELL, SHE's back under wraps.

As much as I appreciated her artistic blog, I sincerely respect and salute her for getting back into her sarong:

"People I don't know out there can't hurt me with their opinions.[...] My parents didn't like the picture. And since they are the people who take care of me and love me, I am accountable for how they feel."

Shows, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Or a gal by her sarong. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Shows, our Asian values - filial piety and respect for our elders - are still alive and strong.

Whether or not you like it.

Then, the media wasn’t wrong to report it. It occurred. We shouldn’t want to pretend it didn’t. Then, the media did not judge, it reported public reactions.

Whether or not you like those reactions.

News is a cultural resource, whether found in the mainstream or on the fringes. We shouldn’t be afraid of what other people feel. Though, at the end of the day, we can and must judge for ourselves what we feel. And as it turns out, the cyber audience also strongly disapproved of SPG’s nudity. A strong reflection of how journalism (in this case) has engaged its audience in an activist, democratic sense.

Whether or not you like it.

Those are mainstream opinions. We may not agree. But there you go, those views highlight exactly just how permissive a society we are.

BUT.

Here's what I think is really VERY SARONG. The stark lack of journalism ethics:

ONE: her right to privacy:

"Any article about me as a 'nude blogger' after yesterday's ST does not come with my support or agreement."

TWO: sensationalizing the issue and judging the blogger.

"Teen yanks nude shots after parents find out"

Yanks?

*excalamation*

*gasp*

*splutter*

A Freudian slip on the part of the writer, perhaps?

Yanks is a most violent word for such a sensitive issue. Mind you, she's still a teenager.

Yanks. Psychologically, you could make a victim of her with this indecent word. You rape our sensitivities with your 'yanks'

"Just leave me alone."

Please just report the news. Please don't assault her (and us) with your indecent, violent and narrow minds.

Yes, Men Too

2005-06-18T14:58:00.000+08:00

ABORTION PRODUCES ANGER. Yes, men too.

Anger at oneself for participating in the abortion. At others for putting on the pressure. At the circumstances. Or at God for permitting it to happen in the first place.

[No, this is not an anti-abortion rant. While I have my convictions and beliefs, I am not into crusades. I am however, very much into sharing resources or learning new perspectives on human responses to this tremendously difficult issue and the ethical minefields that surround it.]

Pro-choice or pro-life, I am certain we all agree on this: An abortion is not a mysterious disappearance of a (human) life.

Almost anyone can imagine the mental pain and anguish suffered by women facing an abortion decision. And after the abortion.

I am certain too, male or female, we can also agree on this: An unwanted (for whatever reason) pregnancy is not an immaculate conception.

Doubtless, many men not only willingly participated in the decision, they also assisted their partners in securing an abortion. Some have even pressured their partners into having an abortion. As well, there are those who watched helplessly as their precious unborn child was aborted in spite of their pleas to give their baby life. Still others weren’t told of their fatherhood until that life was already taken.

How do men feel about terminating a pregnancy they helped create? How does the loss of a child from abortion affect them?

The written and spoken word as catharsis.

Unlike the always wrenching but depressingly familiar woman’s story told in the countless narratives of magazine features, movie plots, soap operas and real life dramas playing out in the daily news, the male story is rarely, if ever told.

Enter blogs as digital catharsis. Blogs as gender equalizer.

One of the more (and truly) beneficial uses of a blog is that it can provide therapy or at least significantly clear mental cobwebs when crisis occur. Especially in life-changing episodes that often seem impossible to share with another human, face-to-face.

One of my earliest blog entries was "That (Taken) Life”. In it, I linked a blog named A Hole In One, a chronicle of a young unmarried woman’s innermost thoughts, feelings and circumstances surrounding her decision. Juxtaposed against her compelling story, I shared a male friend’s deeply moving thoughts - two decades after the abortion he ‘participated’ in. I told of how, even today, he still feels no end to the anguish of having taken a life.

They never considered parenthood as an option. It seemed unrealistic. At only 16, neither felt the life inside her had a future. He told me that the baby’s life was not their priority. That they acted out of self-interest, first and foremost.

They were motivated by fear. Of the hard work that would come with looking after a child. Of missing out on a career. Of being robbed of their freedom. Of being an embarrassment to their families.

He also said there must have been psychological pain, but that they couldn’t understand their heads, and nobody else could know. And he told me, how in the ensuing weeks, they continued as if nothing had happened. How they never spoke about it. How it was a black cloud that always hung over them.

Last night, two decades on. Two days before Father’s Day, he told me if he had his time over again, it would be absolutely different. Religion, he says would have nothing to do with it. But being a father has shown him that a child’s life is too precious.

Today, I want to share with you three male responses to the abortion dilemma I found in Blogosphere:

* A young Malaysian blogs on his reactions to a friend’s abortion.

* A distraught young lover blogs about how he cheated on his true love. How pregnancy, abortion and guilt ensued. Guilt, for the true love and the stolen love AND the taken life.

* An ‘ethical rainstorm from hell’ was another male response to a life he helped create. He blogged about how he tried to influence her to abort their child. He felt he would lose his emotional and mental balance unless she agreed.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO ALL DADS.

Happy Father’s Day to my dear friend who honored me (and readers) by sharing his private and profoundly life-changing experience.

And to those men, who through their blogs have allowed us a glimpse their innermost feelings and thoughts, that we may understand the different sides to this thorny, emotional and terribly important issue. May more male voices be heard on this.

In the UK, where abortion is legal, Men Too receive counseling and support in the face of this life-changing situation.

Long Hair Male

2005-06-17T13:46:00.000+08:00

TOPIC DU JOUR: Long Hair Males :D

In Christ's time, males with long hair were the norm. Later, they became symbols of asceticism. When self-mortification was the path to enlightenment. When simplicity was embraced as a virtue.

Diefenbach and Fidus at Hollriegelskreuth, Germany, 1887

For the Sikhs however, long hair was a symbol of faith to keep the God-given form intact.

In the sixties it became the language of a subculture. In the communal culture of Hippiedom, long hair was a style that allowed males to identify with a group, at the same time express their individuality.

For Hippies, long hair was a nomadic culture with values of peace and eroticism. How ironic and bizzare that long hair turns out to be the originial form of the Bobbit syndrome. Legend has it that Delilah chopped off Samson's locks, the secret of his strength.

A hippie is defined as a young person who defied established customs and adopted an unconventional mode of dress. It signified a disdain for convention. Long, centre-parted hair left untied and natural-looking, looked Bohemian.

It made a strong statement. Reflective of nature and getting away from established rules. It identified with 'letting go'. Unrestrained, long hair allowed a transformation of self, a romantic concept.

And then, in the seventies, angry Punks adopted this style. And it lived on in the 90s with their sub-genre Goth lovers of metal, fetish and horror.

In the dawn of the new millennium, male long hair is nearly always tied up into a pony tail. Severly restrained. Smoothed down with gel. DISCIPLINED. New art language? A fashion statement? A personal philosophy rather than group-bonded?

Today, long hair as a cultural language is a shadow of its rich and romantic past. A thin watered-down form of its old colorful past. It is rarely ever complemented with dress, values and lifestyle the way it used to be. Today, it incurrs different stereotypes: Grunge, Skateboards, Surfer, Biker, Rock, and often, Gay, Drugs and most unfairly, even AIDS. Somehow, long hair associations tend to be negativley perceived, to the exclusion of all its other rich cultural aspects.

What does the long hair Malaysian male in the new millennium really identify with? What does his long hair symbolise?

Personally, I prefer how it looked in the old ancient days, circa 1887. Long, luxurious free-flowing locks. Contemplative and Reflective. Complemented with the easy-going free flowing clothes. No artifice, no restraint. Man and Nature. Untamed. WYSIWYG ;P

So, forgive me, I'm just being a silly nostalgic.

Terri Schiavo: Beyond Forgiveness?

2005-06-16T14:40:00.000+08:00

WHEN TERRI SCHIAVO died, her sister Suzanne Vitadano told reporters:

“May God give grace to our family”

Hence, her death should have been the end of an unhappy story.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. Sadly, the anger, bitterness and unforgiveness didn’t end.

The passing of Terri left great gaping wounds to heal. Peace should have been the last emotion Terry felt. Thank God she was oblivious to all the angry words that passed between those she loved. No one should have to die as she did.

The Schindlers wanted closure. They sought this, which everyone had hoped would and should finally end it all.

There just simply doesn't appear to be any end in sight. Tragically, the anger, bitterness and unforgiveness course on, relentlessly.

Despite medical evidence and expert opinion, the Schindlers won't believe she was beyond saving. They remain unshaken in their belief that Michael Schiavo caused her collapse and insist the autopsy does not preclude his culpability.

To compound it all, their spiritual advisers and pro-lifers rallied to reinforce this resistance to closure and the healing that would surely have attended:

"No details of this autopsy change the moral evaluation of what happened to Terri."

They immobilise themselves thus:

"Terri did not die from an atrophied brain. She died from an atrophy of compassion."

By not accepting the autopsy results, they deny themselves and the Schindlers closure and healing. By cleaving to unforgiveness, they still will not let Terri rest in peace.

It's a wrenching drama, I know.

But what a shame for the Schindlers. That they cannot see there is hope for them. That there is a new future which they will soon help create; there will be new challenges for them and their family which they cannot yet know.

Unless they open their hearts to peace.

“…Where there is despair, hope

Where there is darkness, light

and where there is sadness, joy...”

When you are grieving, you often lose sight of the future, because the present is so draining. But no matter what has been taken from you there is hope. They still have each other and they still have a life in front of them.

If only we can apply the lessons of forgiveness as John Paul II taught us.

“Freedom and frogiveness go hand-in-hand… To refuse to love and to forgive is thus to be bound, to be imprisoned. When suffering comes we have a real choice. We can choose to forgive. Lord, grant to those so deeply impacted by this tragedy real healing. Give them the grace to forgive as you have forgiven”.

I pray the Schindlers will find healing and consolation, and that Terri's memories will bring them peace.

And that God will grant them all the grace to let Terri finally rest in peace.

Related posts:

Terri Schiavo: A Deadly Decision

A Vicious Cycle

Terri Schiavo: Beyond Saving

2005-06-16T12:20:00.000+08:00

AFTER AN EXHAUSTIVE three-month investigation, the facts are in.
Report of Autopsy – SCHIAVO, Theresa (pdf)

There are two parts to the report that attempt the questions susceptible of medical resolution:
1. A summary, the tests and results.
2. A narrative that takes up the allegations by Schindler et al.

The autopsy report vindicates Michael Schiavo.

TERRI SCHIAVO WAS BEYOND SAVING. Insofar as the truth is knowable, this is just what Michael Schiavo and the courts said all along: she was a vegetable, it was a terrible misfortune, with nobody to blame.

**The cause of Terri's collapse in 1990 cannot be determined with certainty. It was NOT abuse by Michael Schiavo.

**When her heart stopped beating, she suffered extensive brain damage. The damage was "horrendous, horrific and irreversible".

**Her brain had "profoundly atrophied" to less than half the size it should have been. Her ability to process sensory data had been totally destroyed. And in her final days, she was blind.

**There was no, NO possibility of restoration of any life function above what she had at the time the feeding tube was removed.

Her parents had wanted to prolong her life to recover her normal brain function. But no treatment could have reversed the damage.

**She had been in a persistent vegetative state. The brain damage left her incapable of eating or drinking had she been fed by mouth, as her parents had requested.

**The brain damage had left her non-responsive - contrary to her parents' assertion that she was responsive to them.

And finally...

After her feeding tube was removed, she died of dehydration. Not starvation - as most of us aasumed.

Blink-worthy Is News-worthy

2005-06-15T11:51:00.000+08:00

And here's the news:

Porn-on-the-net is stale old fact that has long ceased to be news. It started a long, long time ago. It's so commonplace now, it pops out at you even when you are not looking for it, even when you seriously, most emphatically don't even want to see it. Many people seek and have a daily affair with this publicly available nudity. It’s routine. No big deal. Not blink-worthy - even for those of us who don't have such an affair.

But Martine, Martine is one blog post that has got everyone (porn-surfers included, no doubt) on the *blink* *blink* It raises the question (to use a borrowed phrase)..." and so what’s sarong with a naked blogger?”

Well, I don’t know if it's right or wrong. It has to do with other people’s personal liberties. I do know though, that Sarong Party Girl does "like being in the news". So yeah, tell me again, what's sarong with that?

Seems to me, a naked Oriental/Asian female blogger is definitely newsworthy - until such a time naked bloggers (male or female) become a routine matter or pastime like porn-on-the-net, of course.

Mind you, it’s newsworthy not only here in conservative Asia, but also in libertine western cultural societies.

See, it also made the news in Australia, the UK and Taiwan.

And by the by, SPG is not the first Asian to have done it. Unfortunately, I can’t comment more cos I can’t read Chinese, but apparently, earlier this month, a middle-aged female blogger ...

*blink*...

set the Chinese blogging community abuzz too!

*blink* blink*

[end of news bulletin]

SPG Spectacular: Ay, We Can Deal With This, Right?

2005-06-14T13:34:00.000+08:00

I DON'T GET it.

What’s so remarkably negative about it?

I’ve read it over. Thrice.

As far as I can tell, it was a straightforward reporting of an 'event'. It also reported some reader responses.

I checked. It has verifiable facts, quotes and attribution. Like all good news stories should.

It's definitely not one of those subjective op-ed pieces, where some anonymous editor tells or rather subtly (sometimes not so) suggests you should be pleased or upset, relieved or scared at the news reported.

It reports a female blogger, baring her all save a recognizable face in her publicly accessible blog - a first in our conservative (and authoritarian) societies both sides of the Johor Straits.

It IS news, yes?

Any first-time event is newsworthy, yes?

This one breaks our social norms, yes?

Yes? Yes? and Yes?

All affirmative? Good. Ah, then, what’s so negative about it?. Why do you find the truth cheap?

P{lease, let's make distinctions. Between news and imagination. Between verifiable fact and value-laden interpretation.

Apply the fundamentals of what you know about the theory of news. Of what makes any event/thing/person newsworthy.

The News values

1. Consequence (importance and impact)

2. Proximity (geographical, cultural)

3. Conflict (disagreement)

4. Human Interest (about people)

5. Novelty (the bizarre, the rare)

6. Prominence (personalities)

Now ask yourself how the Sarong Party Girl story scored against the above criteria of what constitutes news.

*The nude pictures caused a sensation and made an impact, didn’t they? There are important consequences, right?

*Geographically, culturally it's an issue that touches/strikes our hearts right? She could very well be a Malaysian. Worse still, she could be our little sister, daughter or niece, girlfriend or wife. Or even our gramdmother. [subtext: Oh dear, must get a grip and watch the paranoia}

*We are all interested in sexuality no?

*Controversial, and conflict-laden right?

*A female blogger so close culturally (even if she's not Malaysian) who bares all is a novelty. She is quite a spectacle, isn't she?

In fact, SPG scored so spectacularly well it set us all abuzz, exactly as the story headline said it would! Ah, this time The Star so accurate ler!

Ask yourself (honestly) if public interest was served by this information to the masses?

Or, more meanigfully, if public interest would have been better served pretending 'it' does not exist, did not happen?

Honestly, for crying out loud, haven’t we all had enough of N.S.Ts (no such thing)?

We howl in outrage when the media appoint themselves our news gatekeepers and moral guardians by screening, filtering and censoring information we feel we have a right to access - freely and in its raw form. That is why we all blog, we love blogs, we all love PPS, we’re even gonna have a bash to celebrate its 3rd birthday, with awards and all! We want to be in control of information flow.

It’s silly to cry fowl when that information we so crave sometimes makes us feel somewhat scared and uneasy about ourselves.

It’ s downright dumb to be so scared we start complaining and end up looking like we are asking for censorship. Heh! In cyberspace summore! For that is what the hue and cry is all about. Honestly.

True, our MSM (mainstream media) don’t always mirror reality. But in this case, I am sure we can all agree that the truth is laid bare for all to see, yeah?

Simply put, there is good news and there is not-so-good news. News that makes our hearts swell with pride and have us dying to tell/show the world. News that make us so painfully pai-seh, we involuntarily cringe, try to hide the news, conceal the truth or pretend it didn't happen. Or if all else fails, simply stick our heads in the sand. How we react pretty much depends on our cultural outlooks and mindsets.

C'mon, it's reality and reality sometimes bites. You ALREADY know that.

You also know that the best thing to do with reality is to DEAL with it.

Look, it isn’t the media's job to tell us how to deal with 'bad' news. AND, TO BE FAIR, IT DIDN'T ON THIS ONE. Honestly.

Indeed, in this case, we seem to be coping by falling into an emotional default position of fear. It's irrational. Perhaps, because we are afraid of not knowing how to deal with it. How our youngsters will handle this freedom in cyberspace. And so, we lash out at the messenger.

Be rational. You can. We are, after all bloggers. By default, we are proponent of freedom of expression and information flow. We can deal with this rationally. WE bloggers, of all people can handle this reality in a sensible and wise way.

After all, lest we forget, the authorities are watching to see if we can deal with this.

MJ: Still (My) Number One

2005-06-14T10:02:00.000+08:00

VINDICATED.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

After a thriller of a trial, Michael Jackson is completely acquitted of all 10 charges. News reports here, here and here.

Read the public's reaction in BBC's Talking Point. Have your say. I must say I am extremely pleased.

From his ‘muted emotion’ upon hearing the verdict, the trial clearly has had a sobering effect on MJ. His relief did not eventuate into the much anticipated spectacle; the spectacle that has always been an integral part of MJ's public persona.

Paradoxically, this trial and verdict is giving the fading star a reprise on the global stage. I wonder if his publicists will exploit/optimize this watershed moment to rebuild his career or if indeed the overwhelming stress and untold damage from the trial is already turning him into a complete recluse.

Interestingly, a BBC article on winners and losers of the trial reflects a rare self-scrutiny of the media’s role in MJ’s fame and fall from grace.

In A Falling Star, I commented that MJ was always going to be the loser whatever the outcome. And so it is now, although acquitted, his reputation has nevertheless been smeared after having been dragged through the mud of fourteen weeks worth of often scandalous and mostly incredulous testimony. No matter what the verdict, there was always going to be self-righteous bigots who would cling desparately to their prejudices and publicly signify 'recoil' from his music by declaring their aversion and distaste.

An aside:

Why must our stars fall so spectacularly and fail us so egregiously? The suspicion here is, because we want them to. Indeed, it may be the prime instructive function of celebrities to show us, in their early radiance, what we could dream of being — and in the murk of their decline, what we fear, or know, we could become.

I am listening to MJ’s greatest hits compilation, Number Ones as I blog this.

The track currently playing is Rock With You, a 'bomb' track. It's incredibly funky, irrepressibly bouncy and makes the stiffest among us mortals want to groove or, at the very least, clap our hands. It epitomises the freedom to make and enjoy music. It's a thrilling, 'rawking' tune that still sounds fresh after exploding at No.1 on the charts 26 years ago. You're dead if you don't feel the soul.

Yes, I'm emotionally attached to his tunes. I watched, re-watched and kept videos of Beat It, Billie Jean and Thriller till the tapes turned mouldy. MJ pioneered some stunning group choreography. That music represents the Michael Jackson I know, and that is the MJ I’ll always remember, no matter what he does to himself or how he ages. No matter how many bigots publicly cling to their prejudies despite the legal vindication.

He is a 46-year-old still emotionally stuck in childhood, and ill-equipped for adulthood, what more, middle age. I mourn the degeneration and the death of the King of Pop. I know I can no longer expect greatness from him. I don't care for the circus surrounding his weirdness. He may be a caricature in many minds, but I can separate the man from his music.

I couldn't care less what other new controversy surrounds him. I will continue to focus on the Michael Jackson, circa 1985 when his music spoke louder than his actions. Michael Jackson is still Number One on my charts.

Dragon Clawback: Adopt A Blog

2005-06-12T20:41:00.000+08:00

A story told by a deeply frightened runaway Chinese diplomat to an Australian journalist about the Dragon’s claws casts an even more sinister dimension on the Great Firewall.

It brings home the grim reality that, be they oceans away on foreign lands, Chinese bloggers are never really beyond the reach of the dragon's claw. For under the same sky, anywhere else around the globe, the same dark clouds loom and in the same celestial heavens, the fearsome beast hovers menacingly. You can run but you can't hide. The mighty dragon can easily and viciously clawback as it has done with defectors and dissidents like the Falungong in Australia and probably anywhere else on this planet.

According to Issac Mao, one of China’s pioneer bloggers, more blogs have become inaccessible because of failure to register with the central government database. Even the clever Google Web Accelerator has crashed against the Great Firewall. The government has also loosed the Night Crawler to locate and block unregistered sites. Mao said that sheer logistics and high costs preclude the practicality of moving so many blogs out of the country. Inside China alone, there are 600,000 blogs.

The evangelizer of grassroots publishing in China has come up with the novel idea of Adopt A Chinese Blog for Chinese bloggers to circumvent the Great Firewall.

adoptablog

Via: Global Voices Online:

"It is based on the belief of free speech that we started the Adopt a Chinese blog project. We hope that we and others on the internet who shared the same belief, can share resources and help bloggers who want to freely express themselves and find a safer space for blogging, so that they can continue to blog without retribution."

"As a matter of fact, the goal of the program is to help bloggers. The support is not limited to any specific country. It is borderless and global. At least this is what we wish: let people freely express themselves, without the worries that their blog may one day be shutdown."

"If you’re interested in helping Chinese bloggers, write a post on your blog expressing your willingness to help and tag it as "adoptablog".

That will automatically enable Chinese bloggers to find you through this page.

Second only to the US, China has 94 million internet users (Morgan Stanley, 2004) who like us Malaysians, support the free flow of information and freedom of expression. In Blogosphere, we are all global citizens, yes?

So if you have a blog on your own server, please do adoptablog to help Chinese bloggers retain their ‘voice’ and freedom of expression. Who knows someday you might need find youself in similar need of adoption.

I Am Chi Master!

2005-06-12T17:25:00.000+08:00

PEOPLE WHO ARE too self-critical and assume others will reject them suffer from low self-esteem. Negative thought patterns occur automatically/involuntarily, causing them to selectively focus their attention on failures and rejections.

Often to the point of obsession.

And sometimes, perpetual depression. There's absolutely nothing romantic about depression. I've made a few trips there, it's definitely not a good place to be.

Come, give your self-esteem a boost.

Play this online game and raise your set point for happiness.

Found via this year-old article: "Playing games for self-esteem".

I am the Chi Master! ;P

Patience, patience.

2005-06-12T12:06:00.000+08:00

DEAR GOD, PLEASE grant me the patience to wait ... but please hurry!

A Sunday Reflection:

the grace and hope of patience

A Poem to Sit With

You get too

discouraged

you forget
you are learning

to walk

of course
you

fall down

give
yourself

time

I am patient

with you

be more patient

with yourself

I have something
very special

in mind for you

something
only

you can do

don't give up

Can Buy Me Love

2005-06-11T15:48:00.000+08:00

I'VE BEEN MUSING on this.

Can't buy me lo-ove

Everybody tells me so

Can't buy me lo-ove

No, no, no, no

Everyone agrees on this.

All my life, I've believed it with all my heart. Every world-weary cynic and hard-nosed skeptic who insisted “everything has a price” has earned my narrow-eyed and curled-lip derision.

But lately I’ve learnt to look at things in a new way.

I used to slump my body while reading a book, seated. I used to read holding my book with elbows propped on the top of my knees, because I couldn’t keep the book in midair for more than a minute.

Lately I’ve found I can sit upright with my back comfortably aligned to the chair and read a book cradled in both hands on or just above my lap. I can read sitting up, striking a relaxed and graceful posture for an hour or more.

The upside to growing older ~_~

I’ve come to look at things in a different way.

Money can buy love. It’s true.

Say, a working woman in her forties. Feeling anxious about the future. Getting sick of the daily grind of working. And of dating.

She meets a multi-millionaire. In the deep side of sixty. Toad-ugly. Thoroughly boring.

He wants to marry her. She agrees.

People automatically, knowingly understand she’s doing it for ‘security and comfort’.

In truth, she’s looking forward to feeling secure in the knowledge that she will not need to work anymore. She feels relieved at the prospect of not only living her autumn years in comfort. But that however boring his companionship, there will be peace of mind.

She’s gonna feel like she 'fought the fight' and 'ran the race'. And finished a winner.

Well, people aren’t so wrong when they politely (or cattily) say she married for ‘security': that artful euphemism for money.

I don’t think she is wrong either when she tells people she really loves him. She’ll be loving to him. I've no doubt she'll tend with tender loving care, his many emotional and endless physical needs. She'll warm his heart, if not his bed, in his winter years.

Because she felt saved from a future of endless grinds and uncertainty.

Because people have a way of transferring their love from the savior's money to the money-bringer himself.

Because people have a way of loving what they need.

Money can buy love.

NegaraKu: Tug of Love

2005-06-10T14:46:00.000+08:00

Topic du jour: Compelling Love

It is hard to imagine any human endeavor that does not benefit from having sympathetic strains of music to accompany and encourage it. It's a moving force, a gathering force. Music's appeal is not only to the intellect, but to our emotions and spirit.

Music as hymns, national anthems, love songs, or political protest songs may provoke feelings of religiosity, patriotism, romance. Equally, in the case of a undesired and undesirable lover’s serenade, evoke revolt.

Youthful subcultures use music to cement their group identity. Likewise, our government now attempts to stamp the NegaraKu into a marker of patriotism and love for homeland.

But why is it, I am reminded of the hugely, hugely famous Beatles’ number Can’t Buy Me Love from the 60s rock era?

The government looks dead serious about promoting pariotism. They're being very compelling in how we express our love and loyalty for our beloved country. In fact, they’re tugging at our heartstrings, moving us to STAND UP (!) and be counted. Failing which, they’ll yank at our purse strings instead. You see, they're dead serious about instilling it.

"Even when Government representatives are not present, organisers of public and private functions are encouraged to play the Negaraku."

Will NegaraKu be played at the PPS 2nd Anniversary Bash? If not, will it mean PPS bloggers are a bunch of samsengs?

By the way, what is the meaning and origin of the word 'samseng'? Here's one version.

I've always been proud of the tolerance we have for each other in this country. I hope that tolerance is not narrowing. I would like to think there remains a place in our public life for Malaysians who don't feel a need to stand on ceremony whenever they gather together for a good makan together. Or when they join forces bergotong-royong to search and rescue missing youngsters in Frasers Hill. Malays, Chinese, Indians, Eurasian dan lain lain. Sultan and commoner alike.

The strains of *Muhhibah will tug more seductively at Malaysian hearts, I think. It's hard to imagine how any endeavour at instilling love for nation will not benefit from more spontaneous Muhhibah-like expressions of love that come from the heart. Naturally, from bottom of warm and sincere hearts.

Some related stories/links:
Living in cukoo land

Proud patriotism or indoctrination?

Patriotism: an alternative view

*Malaysian word meaning unity

Heavenly Bundles of Sin

2005-06-08T14:11:00.000+08:00

THE WORLD IS full of marvellous and wonderful things. From the stunning beauty of the stars to the awesome ever-changing and never-changing oceans to the delighful pleasure of human company.

And scrumptious pyramid-shaped dumplings. Heavenly bundles of sinful pleasure.

Yes, it’s the Rice Dumpling Festival, and I’m in Glutton's Heaven!

Chung (Cantonese) Chang (Hokkien) or Zong Zi (mandarin).

Zong Zi

Kiam Bak Chang. Savoury glutinous rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo or reed. They hide sinfully delicious stuffings like mung-bean, chestnut, mushroom, fatty meat and yolk. There is a salty dried shrimp sambal version too.

Nyonya Chang. This sweet-salty dumpling melts my heart in several ways. Bursts of sweetness from the candied winter-melon. The distinctive taste of ground coriander seeds and cekur ginger. The vanilla-like fragrance of pandan. To top it off, a shock of indigo blue-coloured rice. Eaten plain or with kaya, I cannot have enough of them.

Kan Sui Chung. Dainty, golden yellow, soft and springy. Plain or with fillings of sweetened red bean paste, lotus seeds or dates. Dipped in palm sugar syrup. The springy texture against silky smooth caramel flavour. Or against slightly gritty castor sugar.

Yummm..... Delightfully delicious. I'm in Zong Zi Heaven. ^_^

Washed down with a good Kopi-O, it's a wonderfully satisfying meal.

Yes, life is very good indeed.

I had three medium sized Nyonya Changs on Monday, Three HUGE Kiam Bak Changs yesterday. It’s only 3pm now and I’ve had half a dozen dainty kan sui chungs already. I plan to have a few Nyonya ones with kaya later :P

*burp*

Yes, I know gluttony is a cardinal sin.

I KNOW I will pay dearly for this over-indulgence.

I KNOW before the week is out, I will bulge.

AND I KNOW I will certainly look like a dumpling in ALL my dresses. :(

But what the heck, you only live once :D

Fireworks and Firewalls

2005-06-08T10:01:00.000+08:00

Just to fire off two quick shorts on fireworks & shootin' stars, firewalls & lucky stars...

Celestial Fireworks
An astronomical phenomena occured last night when spectacular shooting stars blazed across the New Zealand night skies in a stunning display of celestial fireworks.

Great Firewall of Cyberspace
The Great Wall of China, the centre piece of Chinese pride was built by some 300,000 laborers (mainly criminals, conscript soldiers, and slaves) to keep out invading hordes. That the barbarians later brought down the Qing dynasty, is ultimate proof it did not work.

In the social phenomena of history repeating itself - In March this year, the Chinese information industry (MII) issued a decree requiring all China-based websites - commercial or othewise - to register by 30 June, giving the complete identity of the persons responsible for the sites. According to the authorities, the aim is to control information that "endanger the country".

The Chinese War on Blogs has begun. Guess who is assisting in the construction of The Great Firewall in cyberspace?

Meanwhile, freedom of expression advocate Reporter Without Borders has begun a monthly report as a means to pressure the Chinese government. Will it work, you think? Yes, thank our lucky stars, we are Malaysian bloggers!

Other links:

Journalism and the Evolution of the Internet in China
Blogs and blockades

My Dua Sen

2005-06-07T15:28:00.000+08:00

"It is also a recognition of their worth – as human beings who have 'earned' our respect through their own efforts no matter how physically and mentally misshapen and uncoordinated they might be."
~TV Smith~

Victor’s Triumph

Here's my totally presumptuous, uneducated and non-professional dua sen ;D

Satu: Most photos are memento mori. These photos participate in the disabled person's vulnerability and mortality. Just by virtue of being photographed, the subjects are touched with pathos. Ugly or misshapen or grotesque, they move us because they have been dignified by the attention of the photographer.

Dua: Photographed images of suffering don't necessarily strengthen conscience and ability to be compassionate. I don’t think they can create a moral position, though they certainly can goad or reinforce one. Any photograph has multiple meanings. It is the mere surface, a veneer, if you like. The ultimate wisdom of the photograph would be to compel us to think, or rather feel, intuit, what is beyond it.

Last but not least, these days, cameras are like predatory weapons. Users often 'shoot' at anything and everything as opposed to 'taking pictures'. There is a certain aggression about it. They are as automated as possible, ready to spring at all sorts of subjects, animate or inanimate. Just look at how addicted 5xmom and Huai Bin are with their 'weapons' :P

That Guiding Star

2005-06-06T09:09:00.000+08:00

HOW IS IT that you're, oh so many years out of school... trudged through endless miles of long, rocky and winding roads, journeyed over land, sky and sea, umpteen times gloried in dreams come true, done your share of trafficking heartbreaks, sorrowed in shattered dreams and blossomed, wilted and resuscitated in love, repeated those cycles countless times... but when you fall asleep at night, you're dreaming about math tests and wearing pajamas to school exams?

I just can’t seem to get away from school. The memories, that is. I am constantly surrounded by people who trigger those memories of my Alma mater and the school song.

the school badge

ad veritatem per caritatem

Her name and picture jumped at me from this week’s HERALD. This Friday would be the second death anniversary of Maria Chn'g. May the Lord's perpetual light shine on her. I can almost hear her soft gentle voice reading passages from The Blue Lagoon. And telling of the wonders of nature during Math & Science Club sessions at the Thinking Pool and Chook Coop.

Literature is my lifetime love. And nature too.

One other who sowed the seeds of my interest and love for literature is Miss Lopez. In the almost musical cadence of her voice, the razor-wielding sociopath Pinkie Brown of Brighton Rock and the dreams and triumphs of Walter Mitty came alive. A literature teacher with a first name Enid cannot be anything less than masterful at storytelling, right? Sr Enid Lopez is now with the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary.

Speaking of nuns, Sr Jane Koh, also of the FMM sisters is pastoral assistant with the church I attend. In RCIA lessons over a dozen years ago, she shared with me two of life's wisdoms. One: "Never wait for perfection, for it will never come”. Two: "Never trust your feelings too much". I sometimes still struggle to remember them. She also coordinates the Assumption Church's Sunday School of over 1,000 children and some fifty volunteer teachers. No wonder I still dream of doing the math test in pyjamas. :P

And Christine Kwan, who used to teach Science in my lower secondary days. She's still a facilitator for Assumption's RCIA.

Of course, memories of my alma mater would not be complete without its foundress Sr Enda Ryan. Through her, tens of thousands of schoolgirls, regardless of creed, faith or race were introduced to the priceless wisdom to not "seek to be understood as to understand” from daily recitations of the Peace Prayer during assembly.

Dreams of school, school work and fear of examinations, I am told, are references to comparable processes in the school of life. The school of life forces us to participate in these learning process for as long as we live.

... Ideals learnt here
will guide us wherever we be

As we look back there will be
that guiding star to light our way
ever and ever more…

Yes, where'er I be, everynow and then, I find myself myself sitting on a rock at the Thinking Pool, watching the tadpoles reabsorbing their tails... metamorphosis.

Because school is linked to the FMM sisters and the RCIA and my spiritual life... and my journey through life.

"Bless each of our teachers too, for the loving care they shown to us.

Bless, each one of us and pupils of the past, this is our prayer.."

A Falling Star

2005-06-05T16:04:00.000+08:00

Captain Hook: "Proud and insolent youth, prepare to meet thy doom."
Peter Pan: "Dark and sinister man, have at thee."

Life imitating art (again)?

It’s a real-life Thriller.

Fourteen weeks of testimony by more than 130 witnesses. Over 1,000 pieces of evidence. And the spectacle of superstar Michael Jackson, self-styled King of Pop; Peter Pan in pyjamas.

The jury is now out.

As the eight women and four men jury weigh in the verdict, even his fans ponder the case’s outcome.

Innocent or guilty?
Flamboyant sexual predator of young boys or naïve victim of a con?
Will he Moonwalk or do the Jailhouse Rock?

Peter Pan or Pervert Pinnochio?

Take the O’Reilly Poll

Image: Friedrich A Lohmuller, 1999

If convicted, MJ faces more than eighteen years jail-time.

But regardless of the verdict, the trial proceedings have dealt him a fatal blow. His image and future career goals will be next to impossible to recover. Guilty or innocent, the taint of this child abuse trial will haunt Jackson’s career for the rest of his life.

From the sweet Ben to the bizarre waiflike innocence of his Peter Pan persona, in his many incarnations, Michael Jackson is a multiple platinum-selling artist. His place in music history has been cemented for decades.

Musically, he has acquitted himself in stellar and spectacular style. He has given us some of the finest, most influential music since the debut of recorded sound. Equally, the falling star is himself Spectacle Extraordinaire.

Tragically, the legendary Michael Jackson is now a subject of loathing and satire.

Is Michael strange because of his fame, or is it fame that makes him strange? Is he gay or straight?

Will the King of Pop be able to wear make-up in the can?

Guilty or innocent, his lusty falsettos and robotic basslines - as much a part of Western popular culture as McDonald’s, Mickey Mouse and Levi’s 501s - may never be seen again.

It’s a tragedy of truly stellar proportions.

Links: Jackson Memories, Remembering Jackson, The Life of MJ

I Know All About You..

2005-06-05T06:50:00.000+08:00

A Sunday Reflection:

BECAUSE HE LOVES us even in the womb...

A Poem to Sit With

You are so afraid
so worried

I know you are good
in your heart

I know you want to do
what is right

I know all about you

I watched you grow in your
mother's womb

before you were born
I spoke your name

I know when you stand up

when you sit down

nothing is hidden
from me

come, waste some time with me

Scentsational

2005-06-04T13:56:00.000+08:00

THEY FLOOD ME with memories...

The scent, the fragrance, the odour.

The thing, the moment, the spirit.

Smell is the fastest way to recall memory. With scents we can relive almost anytime of our lives. Wonderful or awful, memories are always more vivid when accompanied with a smell.

I wish I could photograph the scent of …

.. ozone before and during thunderstorms
.. photosynthesising plants during the rain
.. earthy smells like freshly turned earth
and freshly cut grass after the rain.

raindrops a falling
awakening blades of green grass

refreshing the soul.

sensilicious

Clean and Vibrant. Calming and Awakening

There is a memory or a thought or an inspiration in every one of these smells…

.. baby’s soft downy head
.. sun-toasted sheets and linen
and just washed hair.

Recognose the fragrance?

.. crushed fresh curry leaves

.. sesame oil
.. chopped coriander (yim-sai)

and screwpine (pandan).

The scents that trigger other memories…. and senses

.. the tart and winey smell as you bite into a shiny Granny Smith, making a crisp cracking sound and the spurt of sweet juice in your mouth

.. the onion's tear-inducing odour as you peel off the layers

and those unforgettably pungent belachan times :D

.. old books
.. a new leather purse

.. an old daggy pillow
and Tiger Balm.

Comforting aromas that send us into our past like nothing else.
.. food before it reaches the table

.. zesty citrus

.. provocative jasmine and cool mint
and the voluptuous tuber rose.

And a little talcum is always welcum ^-^

Of course, one person’s favourite smell is another’s repulsion.

I hate … petrol, ciggie smoke, linoleum, correction fluid, marker pens, latex, bleach, chlorine in your hair and skin after a swim. Famous Amos Cookies :(

What smells do you like? Or loathe?

Artichoke Blog

2005-06-04T13:10:00.000+08:00

YOU KNOW HOW we meet new people and we make certain assumptions (oh yes, we do) about them based on what we see: their physical appearance (skin and hair color, height, width, heft) their props (dress, accessories, car or companions) speech and mannerisms?

As we do bloggers based on their templates, language, their writings and interactions with their readers and other bloggers.

It is only when we start to unravel their stories and learn about their life experiences that we start to understand more about personality and character.

Peeling off the layers to get to the heart of the person. Or the blog.

I find the artichoke to be a perfect metaphor for a personality or a character.

Cynara scolymus L

You know, I used to think of the onion as a useful image of getting at the deeper understandings of life.

But then, as anyone knows, peeling at the layers of an onion, it's hard to see clearly with tears in your eyes.

The artichoke has a tender succulent spot on each "petal" as well as a thorn on the tip.

How like life.

Life is a delicate mix of pain and pleasure, challenge and support, chaos and order, loss and gain. The balance of life.

And life’s journey: after years of peeling back thorny leaves, you hopefully, finally get to the heart (meaning) of your artichoke life.

As in life’s struggles, the bitter leaves and "choke" has to be discarded before you can taste and savor the delicious core.

The tough leaves are like the challenges we face in advocating for a child by navigating the complex system of doctors, therapists and the school system. With persistence, we often get to the heart, an accurate diagnosis and the support and guidance the child needs.

And, not least, as in our lover/s and loved ones :) There are confusing and challenging behaviors, but if you peel away some of those layers you can get to the really rich and tender heart.

Tough artichoke leaves
Hiding a tender heart.
In his bed, the same.

Oh yeah, this entry is for Lilian, 5xmom. The artichoke is a western equivalent of her 'liulian' life, if you will. ;P Apt?

p/s: I'm not trying to cheat. Swear! Cross my artichoke!... Heheh! :D

Doormats and Smartsmacks

2005-06-03T13:42:00.000+08:00

I LIKE GOING to the movies. You can't appreciate a movie on a TV. You need to see it with other people on a large screen. The shared experience is what makes it great. So yeah, parents who bring their kids to age-inappropriate movies ought to be smacked on their heads. :P

Like this daft couple who brought their two toddlers last week.Darn kids were screaming. They were crying. The monsters were running up and down the aisles. Why did these parents bring their kids to see a non-cartoon movie? Why did they think the kids would sit still? And, why did they do nothing about their disruptive behavior?

I love that the variety of hawker food can be enjoyed in airconditioned comfort and unpolluted surroundings. But it's damn hard to get through when parents refuse to control their brood of hellspawns. These brats run amuck. They throw their food, they scream, they run around… there are kids everywhere, kicking benches, dropping food over the floor, and yelling at the top of their little high pitched lungs. The shitty parents do absolutely nothing about it.

The school holidays is definitely not a good time for the anti-smacking brigade to be pushing their cause. Within logical and humane limits, all parents have the right to rear their children as they see fit, so long as they do not inflict the consequences of their parenting theories on others.

If you don't want to take the time, the trouble, the pain and the heartache to rein in your kids, please lah, don't take them out in public.

On the other hand…

Screaming kids is topped only by MULTIPLE screaming kids. The clincher is perhaps when stellar examples of parenting (in public) either ignore the wailing or loudly state "Stop it or I'll give you something to cry about." Sometimes with choice language thrown in.

Lovely.

The other day, I saw a young mother getting off some steps outside the cinemas. Her distracted little rugrat missy badly misjudged the height of the step, lost her footing and fell with quite a thump on her little bum. Her mother yanked her up by an arm and yelled: "Stupid! Why can't you watch where you are going?". She then gave administered in rapid-fire succession, three loud cracking smacks on the back of each little leg.

Oh great. The kid falls off the steps and then gets half a dozen stinging wallops for her accident.

Of course, thumped-bum and little-legs-on-fire Missy Rugrat yelped and howled and screamed in pain.

Charming.

Seems to me this has little to do with considered parenting and much to do with bad temper and over-reaction.

A child should know that when he or she trespasses beyond a certain point, something really bad will happen. And, to my mind, that really bad consequence has to go somewhat beyond mummy looking cross, a stern finger-wagging scolding, a denial of chocolates or a TV turn-off.

Obviously, smacking is not the only way to discipline children and anyone who resorts to such punishment without making it absolutely clear why it is being administered is a fool and wasting his or her time.

But what is a smack?

I don't know that a gentle rap over a toddler's knuckles as he reaches for something fragile or dangerous counts as a smack. It's more a caution.

Equally, I don't think a hefty wallop that leaves a lasting bruise or welt qualifies as a smack. That's assault, possibly assault causing bodily harm. Like the mother who has a sick nightly bedtime ritual of caning her kids of five and three, as a way of getting them to go to sleep.

Somewhere in between is the sort of punishment meted out by loving and reasonable parents, few of whom ever fall into the category of criminal assailants.

the mudpond

A Spring in My Step

Eyeballing A Stranger

Giving The Noodles A Break

Mindset & Philosophy for Everyday Life

Contagious Thinks

Activism - How To Conduct Yourself

Catching Flies With Honey

Rosa Parks Dies

In A Jam

Stand Up But Don't Lose It

The 23/5 Meme

The Alpha Course

Where is God?

Thank Goodness!

Humpty Dumpty, Again

Jerks

Blog Buster: A Chilling Effect

BUKAN UNTUK ORANG ISLAM

Reheated Pizza

Beauty & The Beast

You win some, you lose some

Daylight Upon Magic

Trite & Tired

Rats

The smallest things...

Broken Rhythm

Oh, My Poor Nose!

Becoming Invisible

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: The Ethics of Seeing

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: A Wuanderful World

A Slice of Time, Experience Shared: The Inside Story

The Photographing Eye

The Diamond Glint

A Raining Grace

Morning After

Being Water

In Sibilance

The Risk of Pleasure

The Sparkle of Joy

The Solution to All Things

My Cup Runneth Over

If I Ran the Zoo

A Bunch of Grapes

Not So Farnee Airnee More

A Big Deal

Vis: What's A Blog Worth?

1000 Women of Peace

Illumining

Twinkle, Twinkle, Ping! Ping!

Compassion's Disabling Companion

Rethinking Disability

View From Above

Pity

Ping Board Jammed!!

One Stop Ping-Ping Bash Page

*Ping* *Ping* Disqualified!!

Bloggers'r'us: The Courtship

F4: Fan Fans Flames of Fame

Blogger 'r' us: Name The Fame!

Ambassadors of Malaysian Blogosphere

Dirty Little Minds

Smile, Dad

SPG: Back Under Wraps

Yes, Men Too

Long Hair Male

Terri Schiavo: Beyond Forgiveness?

Terri Schiavo: Beyond Saving

Blink-worthy Is News-worthy

SPG Spectacular: Ay, We Can Deal With This, Right?

MJ: Still (My) Number One

Dragon Clawback: Adopt A Blog

I Am Chi Master!

Patience, patience.

Can Buy Me Love

NegaraKu: Tug of Love

Heavenly Bundles of Sin

Fireworks and Firewalls

My Dua Sen

That Guiding Star

Ping Ping Disqualified!!