Celebrate.

Every person's life needs more celebration in the little moments. We celebrate birthdays, graduation, marriages, and all of life's big days, but have we forgotten to jump for joy at the smallest of victories?

Being a children's teacher gives tons of experience with celebrating the little triumphs. There's high-fives all around, the ever-so-encouraging 'great job!' and of course the universal cheer and pat on the back. Smiles are everywhere. The kids are pushed on to do their best, so every little thing counts. 

There's so many little things worth celebrating when in a classroom of young children. When a child completes his first ever jigsaw puzzle without any help. When a child finishes the first book in the reader series. When a little girl learns to tie her own shoes. When the boy with special needs says 'good morning' without prompt. When the kids clean up after themselves during snack time. Victories, victories everywhere. 

It just reminds us how often we overlook all the amazing things that happen to us every day. Instead, we complain, we grumble, we fume over the little issues that upset us. We stress out over all our responsibilities and break down under the immense pressures of school or work. We forget that just like these kids, we too can find joys in life that are worth celebrating. We forget that these small celebrations are what makes a a good day. 

Every day, it has become a habit for me to pick out every little good thing and celebrate it. When you see your loved ones laugh. When a corny pun is shared. When inside jokes are created. When you overcome your fear of cockroaches. When you discover money in the pocket of the jeans you wore last week. When you learn something new about a friend. When ideas are exchanged. When you wake up healthy, alive and well. When you realise that tons of people are still loving you, are friends with you and care for you no matter how rotten you feel. 

You know, perhaps good days are not too far off. 

// Have a blessed thanksgiving! :)

Happy Birthday, Mummy!

Today, years ago, a little being came into this world not knowing the blessings she would soon bring. Years later she got married and became the mother of a person who likes writing about the people she loves, and that person is, obviously, me.

My mother is cheerful. Her smile beams at new friends, old friends, anyone at all. Her eyes crinkle in a jolly manner, laugh lines crease to show just how much she smiles. Old friends recognize her melodious laugh a mile away, a laugh with no pretense; a laugh that only displays her tremendous sense of humour and light-heartedness. Her face glows radiantly in pure joy when she does the thing she loves most, teaching.

My mother is a teacher. She carries about an authority that children respect within minutes of acquaintance. She has a firm, strong voice that warns a child who has crossed the line. Her flair of teaching has impacted many children who have excelled in their future studying endeavors. She is strict and makes sure her students know where she stands. But she does all this in love for her dear students, because when she dishes out a good ol' scolding, the twinkle in her eye speaks otherwise. Her children feel warm and safe in her bear hugs, and feel reassured by her calm, encouraging words. She knows when to be serious and when to have fun.

My mother is a servant. Her willing heart goes all out to help those in need, without expecting the tiniest return. She serves in ministry, from her teenage years till now, making differences big and small in people's lives. She is quick to forgive and has always taught us the great damage of a grudge. It is because of this important value that our family never holds grudges against one another.

My mother is an artist. She can create beautiful masterpieces from pieces of almost-nothing. She paints stories with a colourful tone in her voice and animated gestures with her face and hands. She crafts out things that are just so attractive with mere paper. She can draw with steady, firm strokes of her practiced hand. Her art pieces are breathtaking, whether it's a contemporary fashion piece, or a work of children's art.

My mother is a doctor. Of course, as every mother does, she bandages, fixes wounds, cleans and treats us when we're ill. But that's not all. She speaks with wisdom and experience to heal the wounds that cut our hearts. She knows just what to say to sooth the anxiety that disturbs our souls. She will stay up all night just to make sure I fall asleep after I pour out all the little things that have been bugging me. She is a doctor not just for the body, but for the mind and the heart.

My mother is... my mother. She's human and she has her falls, but there is no one I'd rather have as a mom but her. I am forever grateful for the things she has taught me, for the way she has raised me and for the words she has said to me. Mummy, I appreciate every single thing you have ever done for me. You help me to see the world differently and I owe it all to you. Thank you for guiding me in the way of the Lord, and I hope I make you proud with the way I live my life.

I love you, and I hope you have a wonderful birthday. To many more birthdays!

Mum's Birthday Celebration 2015

Saturday, 17 October

Surprised my mother together with her girlfriend gang (wow, that's a term I'll try not to use ever again) at Krathong, Sri Petaling.

Sunday, 18 October

Went out for our little family celebration at night! As usual, lots of fun, laughter, interesting conversations and good vibes.

A satisfying dinner at Fatty Crab.
On the menu: Sour and spicy crab; steamed crab; toast; fried rice; satay; chicken wings. 

And while we were in the mood for celebration, we finished off our feasting time at Inside Scoop.
On the menu: Chocolate Cookie Dough; D24 (durian); Peanut Butter Cup.

Hope you enjoyed your gift, mummy!
This is my mother for you; no jewelry, decorative items, flowers, makeup...
Get her practical, everyday-use items and she will be happiest.
She fell in love with this rugged backpack! (So did I, mum. So did I.)

Once again, happy birthday! Love you. :)

Why I Write

I wrote for school essays and tried my luck at writing competitions once or twice. I have tried keeping a journal, to no avail. My old blogs boasted lame reports about daily life and totally random, insignificant content. Friends were writing letters and cards during Christmas or for birthdays, but it has never been a part of my nature to do so. There have been feeble attempts at writing novels, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, but obviously nothing has been completed, let alone published.

And this is where I find myself questioning my long-lasting passion for writing. I have been discouraged way too many times; I compare myself to better writers who are the same age or even younger, and envy their talent. I don't even have the drive to complete short stories to compile into one book. I can barely keep my blog alive with interesting content, and yet I keep coming back to write just because I want to. 

So why do I write? What is it about this dying art that pulls me back every time? 

I love writing. I love the way words can tug at somebody's emotions. It amazes me how black ink on white paper in a variety of shapes and squiggles can move a person to tears, uplift a depressed teenager, bring giggles out of a child. I like how certain words roll of my tongue when strung together, and I like how certain words look. And I love how words can be pulled and twisted into rhythm and rhyme.

Writing calms me. It clears the mess that lingers in my brain after an emotionally disturbing incident. It helps me comb out the irritating tangles in life and sorts the mental haystack into piles, making the search for the needle infinitely easier. My mind likes using words to solidify my thoughts and dreams. Life becomes clearer when predicaments become paragraphs.

People ask me why my blog posts tend to be about emotionally negative subjects, referring to the more-viewed posts 'Jealousy' and 'Shedding Tears'. It is because these concepts that encircle my train of thought affect me deeply and it is only writing that helps me be rid of it. Writing sets things in perspective and conveys a message to my confused self. It is through much of these posts that help my mind be at peace about topics such as these.

Stories are great. Stories are little time capsules that may or may not be make-believe, but remind you of a time when a certain thing could've happened. I look back at my little stories (mostly incomplete, mind you), and am immediately transported to how my 8-year-old self felt when the story was penciled. I see my large, neat handwriting on the lined exercise book labeled 'Compositions - English class' and smile to myself. The story is immature, has a thin plot, and a little ridiculous. But it made 8-year-old Jessica the person she is today, the person who is now in love with writing. 

The art of writing is a complex one. It can be judged, as 'good' writing or 'bad' writing, although that is entirely subjective. It is fascinating how people can be drawn to different writing styles and hate others, while some styles are loved by everyone or by none at all. It is fascinating how a children's book with the simplest words can leave a bigger impression on the soul than a learned scholar's bombastically-worded thesis. It is fascinating how certain words are almost always found in a specific genre and not found at all in another. Writing, in its purest form, fascinates me.

I find my voice when I write. I become the person I want to be, without having to conform to what people think. My thoughts pour out in their rawest form, without filter, without waiting for society's approval. I like knowing that there are people who support my writing and read my published works (specifically, this blog), because it gives me something to be confident about. I especially love it when people tell me that they enjoy my writing, or, even better, discuss my writing with me. Let it be known that it pleases me immensely when people introduce me as a person who writes, because that is an honour that not many achieve: the title of being a 'writer'. People can put words together, people can tell stories, but to be a writer? Man, that's something.

Last but not least, writing is my worship. Writing is a channel to my Creator that I am truly glad to have. Writing prayers and poetry to my God is a way of worship that is so very personal and heartfelt. It is something even the spoken word cannot really express, because there's something about the written word that officiates the intentions behind the prayer. Writing reflects the way one thinks, and it is sometimes through the words that flow from the pen that speak to my very own self, forcing me to pause and think. It puts things down in black and white, giving one the chance to look back on it sometime in the future, and reflect on how things have changed and how one has grown. 

And it is with this I praise God for writing, because without it, I would be very, very different.

The Droplet That Survived

A low rumble shook the pinkish walls
As light entered the cave
A gust of wind was sucked in
While a droplet, small and brave
Slid about on the mushy ground
Bracing itself for the flight
It held its breath and closed its eyes
Against the harsh, bright light

"Here we go," the droplet thought
Excitement rushed through its mind
"I wonder where on earth I'll land...
I wonder what I'll find!"
And with no warning whatsoever
A great force pushed and heaved
The droplet was shoved off the ground
Feeling afraid, but yet relieved

However, the worst had yet to come
As the droplet would soon discover
It started falling at a rapid speed
Before it had time to recover!
"ARRRGHHH!" the droplet yelled
As it plummeted through the air
With other droplets which fell like rain
Screaming in fear and despair

But there you find our little droplet
Being carried by a soft breeze
And that's the story of how a droplet
Survived Jess's almighty sneeze!

* * * * *
Hope you enjoyed this fun rhyme that was inspired by my recent bouts of sneezing and coughing. Currently teary-eyed and breathing hot air, but how could I sleep peacefully if I didn't jot down this silly comic of a poem? *winks*

Happiness, happiness, everywhere.

The pursuit of happiness is a common goal
Of many people, male or female, young or old
But happiness is everywhere, I was once told
From memories and experiences more precious than gold

Happiness is...

1. Hearing your favorite song once the radio is on
2. Seeing the sunrise at the crack of dawn
3. Smelling freshly baked cookies made by mum
4. Eating long-lasting apple-flavored gum
5. It's landing a shot in the waste paper bin
6. Rolling down car windows and feeling the wind
7. Finishing an essay of five thousand words
8. Waking up to the sound of chirping birds
9. Watching a novel come to life on screen
10. Not being afraid to say what you mean
11. Being able to laugh with your friends
12. Successfully inserting a contact lens
13. Peeing after holding in the entire day
14. Being able to use a GPS after losing your way
15. Wearing someone's hoodie when it's insanely cold
16. Buying the last ticket before they're all sold
17. Seeing rain pour when it's hazy
18. Solving the riddle that drove you crazy
19. Popping the bubble wrap that came in the box
20. Finding clean, matching socks
21. Getting a birthday card from a loved one
22. Wearing pyjamas when the day is done
23. When your parents are laughing and in a good mood
24. The delicious smell of IKEA wood

I could go on and on and on
About the things of which we are very fond
Happiness, happiness, everywhere
Look no further! It's just right there.

A monster named Jealousy.

This wretched piece of emotion

Nothing but the meanest beast

It kills the mood and stabs the heart

Devours souls as if in a feast

It starts like a niggling in the mind

Forces its way down the throat

Pokes and prods the innards of the body

The heart sinks like a leaking boat

The mind drifts to places unknown

Unable to concentrate on things that matter

The one thought that irritates the soul

Displayed in full glory on a silver platter

It makes you crave for things unnecessary

Floods the mind with irrational fear

It clouds and blurs any solid thought

Nothing is at all clear

The worst feature about this feeling

Is that it does not leave

It makes a home in your inner being

Stealing your esteem, a silent thief

This wretched piece of emotion

Please, please, make it flee

Nothing but the meanest beast

A monster named Jealousy.

enjoy you.

You ask if you can go out Friday night

She says no but you put up a fight

Desperately trying to convince your mother

"Don't worry, there won't be another"

A week down the road and you're asking again

You promise that you'll be back by ten

With a heavy heart she lets you go

Her mouth says yes but her heart says no

Saturday night you are out with your friends

You and your ever so countless events

He calls you to ask when you'll be back

He anxiously looks at the sky turning black

Your father is worried and a little upset

It's already eleven and you're not home yet

He sits up till twelve to wait for your return

Unable to sleep, wrecked with concern

It's Sunday afternoon and you're free today

Mom and Dad try not to show their dismay

When you inform them that you have a lunch date

"Till three p.m," you say, but you come home at eight

You receive texts and calls on your phone

You call them: "Mom, Dad, leave me alone."

You regret it instantly when the words are said

The words sting; your parents see red

You dare not speak on Monday morning

Last night you came home, received a warning

"No going out till next month," they said

And without any discussion, they sent you to bed

You fumed, you sulked, you simmered with rage

How dare your parents keep you locked in this cage?

You screamed, you cursed, you yelled inside

You felt like your freedom had just been denied

And while you were drowning in your blues

Your parents sat outside, discussing you

You're never at home, you're always out

They may be strict, but they love you, no doubt

Your parents reminisce about moments together

But they try to accept that it won't last forever

Because, to be honest, all they want is to

Spend time as a family and enjoy you.

Shedding Tears

“Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. 

But you have to stop sooner or later, 

and then you still have to decide what to do.” 

― C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

Source: Google Images

I grew up as many others did, shaped and molded by the values instilled by parents. As children, my brother and I were quick to learn that crying gets us nowhere. When children throw tantrums in public, they cry angrily and cause a commotion, hoping their parents cave in due to embarrassment. When children want to give up on a challenge, they cry out of self-pity, to get their parents to sympathize. 

Our parents were strict in teaching us that crying was no way to get what you wanted. When you cry, the only person you're embarrassing is yourself; because all my parents did when we ever shed a tear for purposes of persuasion was ignore us completely. That, obviously, made us feel extremely silly and immature, and it was a great method of shutting us up. We never used our tears to get our own ways after that.

Clearly, this is something many parents envied. "Wah, your children seldom cry ah?" other parents ask. My parents will then proceed to explain that crying is only attended to if we got physically hurt, or emotionally disturbed. Many a time our genuine tears have welcome kind words and reassuring hugs from our parents. Somehow, they just know if our tears were for real. The fact that we never cried just to get our way made our parents' lives way easier, and also pushed us to handle our emotions in a steady way, never crying just for show. I believe this made my brother and I slightly stoic, as some of our friends may testify, helping us gain the terms 'poker face' or 'heart of stone' as our personality descriptions. 

This never affected me; in fact, I looked at my ability to hold my tears well with admiration. I prided myself in being able to not cry at sad movies with dying dogs, I prided myself in being able to not cry at friends' farewells, and I occasionally found myself mocking those who shed their tears so easily. "Pfft, these people. Weaklings."

But growing up through the hormonal, teenage years and finding myself being buried under responsibilities in various organisations (like church, college, work, etc.), I recently found tears on my cheeks a little more regularly than I would like. I broke down under huge workloads, I broke down under broken friendships, I broke down under desperate situations. I broke down, and I totally hated myself for that. In my mind, I saw myself weakening, succumbing to tear-shedding and self-pity. Things became worse when I even cried once or twice in front of others. 

Because of how I was raised, in a way, I always saw crying as a negative thing. Crying is bad, crying gets you nowhere, crying only shows self-pity. Crying makes you a weak person and crying means you've given up. Of course, my parents never ever intended to instill these kinds of values in me, but having twisted their pure teachings into my own, society-pressured ideas, I viewed crying as the ultimate loser move. I disliked the fact that I cry so easily now.

But here's me, trying to tell you that crying really does get you nowhere, in a practical sense. I mean, if you broke a bowl and spilt soup all over your kitchen floor, crying isn't really going to clean up that mess, is it? If anything, it'll make your mess worse! However, as I am slowly journeying in self-discovery and handling my emotions, I have good news for myself. 

I now realise that from experience, shedding tears have always meant something good was going to happen. It meant that now I am no longer bound by pressure, no longer bound by stress, but I am admitting that I have way too much on my plate, and letting it all go at once. Trust me, after a good cry, I am nowhere as irritable as before. It's the accumulated stress that always causes me to be uptight and moody, and I usually find a flip in my emotional state after having some tears spill over. And it is always this crying that helps me realise I am not as great as I think I am, and helps me map out a solution to my problems. 

Most importantly, it is this crying that brings out the vulnerable part of me, totally knocking me down to my knees and literally crying out to the One above who continues to shower me with His love and grace, mending my wounds again and again. If that's not good, then what could it be? 

Because, honestly, tears were created by God, and they were put there for a reason. Tears are a part of life after all.

"A time to weep and a time to laugh,

 a time to mourn and a time to dance” 

 - Ecclesiastes 3:4 -

Goodbye, grandma.

At 5:20pm on Thursday, the twentieth of August 2015, my grandma breathed her last and moved on from this earth. I was there to watch her take her final gasp of air. My heart was thudding incredibly fast as we all waited for her to take her next breath. There was none. Her lips stopped moving and silence rang through her own room. At least her wish was fulfilled: she passed away in her own bed.

This post is written to celebrate the life of my grandma, the person I call Mama. She was a strong person, undefeated in all of life's obstacles, coming out in triumph at the end. She was loving, kind, generous, so much so that she was friends with everybody. She gave, and gave, and gave, like the most selfless person on earth. She was thoughtful. She was goodhearted. She was all-round amazing.

Mama had a wonderful sense of humour. I remember once we were at a fancy international buffet for Mother's Day, and I wasn't sitting at her table. I was sitting with my brother. She casually walked over, and whispered to both of us with a smile, 'Make sure you eat as much of these expensive food as you can, because it's not going to fill your stomach at all,' then casually walked away. I remember one time she put on an oversized hoodie with a crazy hardcore symbol on the front, raised her hands, formed her hands into the metal sign, and asked for a photo to be taken. I remember one time during our annual Christmas party, she wore my cousin's belly dance skirt and started belly dancing in front of all of us, sending us into fits of laughter. My aunts, uncles and father all have a wacky sense of humour, and I see they all got it from their mother.

To the rest of my family: during this time we will go through much grief. We will eventually carry on with our lives, but occasionally a pang will hit us so hard, our hearts will physically hurt. But we will be strong together, and we will be there for each other. Let's continue gathering regularly and strengthen the bond we already have. And let's all remember that Mama will forever be in our hearts, and that we will forever be in hers. She loves us very much, and she still does, right there in heaven watching over us being one big, happy family.

Mama, we love you, we will miss you very very much. Thank you for every single thing you have done for this family, because without you, we would all turn out very differently. I thank God for you because you have been such a blessing in our lives. I'm sorry if I never spent as much time with you as you wanted, but know that deep down I love you very, very much.

Mama, I'm graduating college this Saturday. I appreciate how every single year you attend my primary school awards day and also my high school graduation. This will be the first time you are not there to watch me go on stage for my academic achievements. I hope that wherever you are, you will see me and I will make you proud.

Goodbye, grandma, and see you again one day.

It beeps.

She is peppered with questions and told the most unrelated things. The time now is seven at night, it didn't rain today, your heartbeat looks good, you're going home soon, today is Monday. She nods every time, but says nothing. 

She gets asked a question. She nods yes. She gets asked another one. She shakes her head no. Then an open-ended question comes her way. She doesn't nod or shake her head...because she wants to answer. She gestures to the plastic piece of equipment covering her mouth. She wants it removed. 

The family members ask for permission from the staff. Her mask comes off for a moment or two. The question comes again. Her lips move, her tongue shows, but there is no voice. The conversation continues in silence. The family is left guessing, helpless and desperate. 

She wants to speak. She uses her fingers. She moves her hands. Her eyes dart around restlessly as she tries to get her family to understand what she said. Her children stare, clueless. They try to provide helping words. The words only bring more helplessness. She shakes her head no. 

My heart aches. Where is her voice? What is she trying to say? Her mind must be cluttered, clouded, fatigued. She wants to speak to her children, her children cannot hear. She wants to speak to her children, her children do not understand. She wants to speak to her children... But the only sound we hear comes from a cold, lifeless machine. It beeps.

Period-shaming.

A recent post about a free-bleeding woman running a marathon has been viral. People everywhere are sharing this post all over their social media pages, and there has been mostly positive, encouraging words like, "Wow, she's so brave!" or "That's right! There is nothing to be shameful about periods."

First off, let me establish here that period-shaming is ultimately disgusting and uncivilized. The menstrual cycle is proof that women have an important process going on in their bodies to enable reproduction to happen. This in itself shows that women are, in fact, powerful and should therefore not be shamed for having periods.

Things like carrying sanitary pads/tampons or even mentioning the word 'period' can cause social discomfort, not to mention seeing a blood stain on the back of a girl's pants being completely taboo. This is all caused by culture. Periods should not be an embarrassing issue. The symptoms of PMS have been joked about: jokes about infamous mood swings are the ultimate stab at a girl's femininity. These are all unnecessary and totally uncalled for, but this is culture and that's how things are.

The weirdest thing, though, is the fact that free-bleeding is now a thing. Has feminism reached a point where a stand can only be made by jeopardizing your own hygiene? Is it really necessary to run a marathon, in full view, while bleeding through your pants? I see the good intentions, but I don't agree with the execution. Do you not feel uncomfortable? Doesn't it feel like you're wetting your pants? Okay, maybe you are truly daring enough to televise your courageous act, but have you not forgotten why women's hygiene supplies were invented in the first place? There are many women in third-world countries who are extremely grateful for the reusable pads they receive from healthcare organisations, and here you are, bleeding freely?

It makes me sound closed-minded and probably quite ignorant, but I see the free-bleeding movement as unnecessary. Not only does it put your own health at risk, it also soils public hygiene. I mean, what's the point of having clean chairs when all you're gonna do is bleed all over it? Doesn't sound too great to me.

Once again, let me say that period-shaming is offensive, degrading and pointless. But if you want to take a stand against it, preserve your own dignity, please. And don't dirty the chairs.

Hanging Out with Guys vs. with Girls

Recently going out with a bunch of just guys gave me a whole new experience of 'hanging out'. Usually going out in mixed-gender groups or all-girl groups, it did feel a little strange at first. Maybe these differences don't apply to all of guy groups, but this was what I observed.

1. Manner of Speech
Girls obviously have higher pitched voices, but this seems to correlate with the speed at which they talk. Girls talk fast, whereas guys have a more chill and relaxed manner of talking. Guys, when excited about anything, still talk much slower than girls. Girls are just all over the place, talking about this, that, and in a group, five different things could be going on at once. With guys, one person talks, everyone listens. With girls, three people talk, and nobody listens. If you're lucky, the quiet girl of the group will listen to the jabber and smile with acknowledgement. Which leads me to the next difference...

2. Length of Conversation
Guys can linger on one topic for ages, but girls drift from conversation to conversation, with several people, until they find one that everyone can contribute to, which then makes it the longest and deepest conversational topic. It's tiring sometimes to be at a table with girls because once you have something to say, conversation shifts and suddenly nobody talks about the thing you wanted to say. Inside your head you're just like, 'But... I had a thing going on.' *cries inwardly*

3. Size of Travelling Herd
Ah, this. The classic 'girls travel in packs' dig. With girls, it's part of the code of conduct to raise a question of 'Anybody wants to go to the toilet?' to the others. And even if nobody else needs to go, somehow it's ethical to go in at least a group of three. ('It's ok la, I'll go with you.') I can't count the many times I've been to the toilet with girlfriends, just to stand outside, next to the paper towel dispenser, and wait for them to be done. But with guys? You want to go toilet, then you go toilet. Ain't nobody gonna follow you for moral support.

4. Shopping
Guys shop with a mission. They want to get food? They visit the food court. They want a drink? They drop by a beverage bar. They want to find a specific item of clothing? They tackle only the shops that they know will have the item. Girls, on the other hand, may say they want a new pair of jeans, but more often than not, I find the girls wandering in stationery shops, the accessories store, the grocery department, an ice-cream kiosk and five hundred clothing stores. After this long, drawn-out adventure, the girl who just now declared that she needed a new pair of jeans ends up empty handed, but everyone else has a new pencil holder, three pairs of earrings (only RM10!), grapes for the family, a cup of ice-cream (mango & chocolate), and possibly that cute floral print dress from H&M. Girl time!

5. Photo-taking
This has become such a ritual, almost, among girls, that it felt like something was missing when I was with the guys. I never initiate a photo-taking session when I'm with friends (mostly because I'm just lazy), but I always end up taking the photo (selfie-style) just because I have 'long arms'. We could well be eating our pasta in a nice restaurant and somebody will yell out of the blue, 'Snapchat!' Everyone will then automatically turn to the person who yelled, and make a face or smile at the smartphone. Naturally. Just before we leave the venue, or just before one of the girls go home, we'll be sure to take a nice group photo, preferably with an iconic statue that the mall has or with nice decorations pertaining to the season. That photo will be our 'official' photo of the day, and this will go up on at least half of the girls' Instagram accounts. With guys, this doesn't happen! Almost 4 hours of being in the same place, doing the same things, and no mention of a photo. Only after we played a game at the mall did we take a photo, which wasn't our idea anyway; it was a procedure that the staff-in-charge had to carry out. So there we were, taking a photo that wasn't even saved in our phones, and we had to wait for it to be out on the game outlet's Facebook page if we really wanted to see it/re-upload it. But honestly, I doubt that's going to happen.

*****

Being with girls and being with guys is clearly a different experience, but it's fun either way. I wrote this to take a jab at society and how things just are, and I did not write this to offend or insult any particular person. I thought it would be a laugh to write out some differences we all know too well, and I hope some of these were relatable. *winks*

To God; for Grandma.

Dear God;

You are healer

for it is this healing from Your own wounds

that allows her wounds to heal

it is this healing

that gets her heart beating

it is this healing

that lets her blood flow

and it is this healing

that helps her breathe once again

You are protector

for it is this protection

that saves her from the grasp of evil

it is this protection

that covers her body with immunity

and it is this protection

that hovers over her frailness

You are peace

for it is this peace

that calms her anxious soul

it is this peace

that accompanies her through the nights

it is this peace

that allows her to smile

and it is this peace

that makes her loved ones feel secure

You are provider

for it is this provision

that pays for what she needs

it is this provision

that eradicates the fear of the dollar sign

and it is this provision

that ensures there is no anxiety of debt

You are strength

for it is this strength

that guides her way to recovery

it is this strength

that supports her when she sits up

it is this strength

that lifts her up to take her first steps

and it is this strength

that gives her the courage to trust

You are joy

for it is this joy

that puts the smile on her face

it is this joy

that her family brings into the room

it is this joy

that allows her to tell stories like she used to

and it is this joy

that enables her brave spirit to never be dampened

And most importantly:

You are love

for it is this love

that fills her heart and soul

it is this love

that her children unconditionally give

it is this love

that brings joy, strength, peace

and it is this love

that provides, protects and heals

Dear God,

thank You for never leaving Grandma's side

and I hope, someday, she will never leave Yours

In Jesus' most powerful Name I pray;

Amen.

On Behalf of All Music Teachers

Dear parents:

Your child goes to school for at least 6 hours each weekday. That's physical, mental and emotional exhaustion from absorbing information, facing teachers, playing with friends, joining activities. 

After school, your child attends tuition classes for the next 4 hours. BM, English, math, and what not. 

But oh, your child needs to cultivate their hidden talent and learn to appreciate the arts. Hence, dance classes, art & craft, robotics. 

BUT WAIT! I need some qualifications and certificates for my child to show that he/she is actively upgrading themselves throughout the years! LET'S ENROLL HIM/HER FOR MUSIC LESSONS!

And it all goes downhill from there. 

Excuse me, but the last time I checked, I was well tired out after a long day at school. Give me extra classes once a week on Saturdays or something, that's cool; maybe my math really sucks and I desperately need some help. 

However when it comes to signing your child up for music lessons with the expectations of stage performances, distinctions in exams and producing prodigies, please think before hand. They ask, "how come my child isn't progressing?" Please, I'm the teacher and I want them to progress as badly as you do, dear parent. 

Music, unlike any other "class" that you signed your exhausted child up for, requires tons of practice FROM THE START. I don't care if your child is Level 1, classical piano; he's gonna need all the discipline and practice that he can get. And there's nothing more saddening than hearing this after asking them if they've practiced: "Teacher, I got no time. Every day tuition until 7 o'clock. Come back home then dinner and bath. Need to do homework some more. Then need to sleep already. How to practice?"

Parents, if you're gonna sign your child up for a music class... Give them enough time to practice, and make sure you understand that kids are just like you; their energy levels can deplete, and hence, their concentration. 

Help us help you help your kid. 

the hospital

The vinyl floor shines, the walls are bare

Labels and number signs everywhere

Smells of disinfectant fill the air

Sounds of gentle assurance and care

Wheels squeak, people whisper, machines beep

Behind the doors hearts ache and weep

Tubes and things decorate the beds

As screens show numbers in greens and reds

Nurses move briskly in spotless white

Patients on beds as they bravely fight

Whatever the sickness, whatever the pain

Needles and pills, again and again

Families gather around a loved one

Crying inside as their hearts weigh a ton

The walls hear prayers never more sincere

A child holds mum's trembling hand in fear

Feverish, faint, fuddled and frail

Eyes ringed with shadows and faces pale

Threatened by Death's gruesome face

Only cured by medicine and saved by grace

The internet ruins.

This is the age of screens and devices
Internet addiction is one of our worst vices
Social media is ruling the minds
Of the young, of the old, of the whole humankind
Dinnertime occurs in total quiet
When everybody seems like they're on a diet
Of at least five hours of internet a day
When at the dinner table they've nothing to say
They're on Facebook or tweeting happily
"At a nice dinner with my lovely family!"
When they're just at dinner with their phones and screens
The parents, the children, and of course, the teens
Parents don't know that there is no education
When their kids are occupied with iPads and not conversation
On a profile photo we strive to achieve a hundred likes
When a moment of insecurity of our beauty strikes
When a 'like' can be a sign of approval
When not enough 'likes' results in the picture's removal
What has our worth become today
When self-portraits are all we have to display?
Really, is breakfast something so great?
Do people actually want to know what you ate?
Captions are overrun with hash-tagged words
That don't even make sense in the grammatical world
The most popular videos are challenges and games
Stuffing marshmallows into your mouth is the only aim
Or maybe just eating mysterious foods from tin cans
Or even how much cinnamon you can withstand
Where has all the content gone?
Of inspirational messages and brains, not brawn?
Where's the clean humour, music, poetry, dance?
Instead, pointless arguments between hateful fans
Gay marriage, the Bible, controversies and more
Suddenly everyone has an opinion; unnecessary uproar
The YouTube comment section is notoriously savage
A place where everyone is safe within their own cage
Of their bedrooms, behind screens, where no one can see
How cowardly you are, how ignorant you can be
Just posting opinions that change almost nothing
When hateful remarks do nothing but sting
The people who are attacked and bullied online
In real life they keep saying, "Yes, I'm fine."
But nobody knows how bullying can kill
A person's soul, a person's will
To live, to love, to do, to be
When death is the only option they can see
When likes don't reach the maximum
When self-esteem is at its minimum
When a life is sucked into the internet
When a youth lives with nothing but regret
When a parent and child have no bond
When blue ticks are seen but no one responds
That's when you realise
The internet ruins.

7 Quick Gift Ideas for Mothers' Day

Mothers' Day is today, and for those who still have no idea what to get for your amazing mom that you'll never be able to repay, here's some quick gifts you can whip up in no time! Some of these are only for less than $0.00, but you'll be able to make your mom smile ear to ear. Remember, sincerity is key. It's the thought that counts.

1. Concern

Give her a call. Ask if she's hungry and would like a snack. Ask if the creaky knee she has on her left leg is okay. Remind her about the TV show that she was meant to catch at 8pm. Ask how her day at work was. Be updated on her latest menopausal issues. Show interest in the little details in her life. Be concerned. 

2. Care

Bring her a blanket when she's cold. Make a cup of hot tea for her. Give her a nice massage (no, put down that spa brochure. YOU are gonna squeeze those tired shoulders, not some masseur you pay for). Charge her phone so that it's all up and ready for her to play Candy Crush Saga the next morning. Do little things to make her life easier. 

3. Affection

Give her a hug when you come back from college. Kiss her cheek before you go to bed. Hold her hand when you're walking in the mall with her, and bring her to the ol' memories of shopping when you were four and she was a bright young woman. Show her you love her. 

4. Appreciation

Write a card. Draw a poster. Write a blog post (my personal fave). Write a thoughtful, handwritten letter from overseas, filled with stories of your adventures and questions regarding her welfare, thanking her for all she has done; get it signed, inked and sealed. Speak to her. Pray for her, and thank God for what a wonderful mother He's given you. Bless her. Encourage. Tell her you love her. 

5. Celebration

Bring her out for a nice date at the local cafe. Pay for her meal. Take her to her favourite bookstore, or boutique, or park. Get a nice slice of cake, her favourite flavour. Make sure she knows that you are thankful. 

6. Obedience

Remember the time your mom told you to clean up those dishes, hang up those clothes and please clean your room? No better time to do it than now, because those will make her real happy that she's raised such a wonderful child like you. Honestly, I think moms are most pleased when their children do well, and yes, that includes the dishes as well.

8. Patience
When you were a wee little tot, she taught you to hold a spoon and shove food into your mouth. Those times usually ended with food being everywhere except your stomach. Fast forward a few years and she was kneeling right there next to you, teaching you how to knot your shoelaces. And before you know it, she's teaching you how to be a person, frustrating as it is. Misunderstandings happen, you don't see eye-to-eye, but she has been patient with you nonetheless. Now fast forward to the present, maybe yesterday, when you told her for the millionth time that photos can't be zoomed into on Instagram (she probably ended up accidentally liking the photo anyway). Were you patient? Did you huff and puff like an impatient old man? Well you better re-evaluate, because that woman once taught you to put food into your mouth. Without that skill, you wouldn't be who you are today. Be patient. She's getting older each day; be patient.

7. Love

And all these come in a box set of Love, which encompasses all. Free-of-charge all year round, it ensures your momma gets the Love that she needs in return, especially after she's given all the Love she had in the first place to you. Yes, you, you undeserving child, sucked up all her love, and she let you do it without complaint. So it's time to give back as much as you can, to give our heroines what they deserve the most: Love. 

*****

So I hope these 7 quick gift ideas gave you some inspiration to appreciate your mom this Mothers' Day, and I can guarantee that when you've done all these, Mom will be tearing with joy at the lovely child she's raised. 

With that, to the irreplaceable mothers and all the other amazing mom-figures out there, have a blessed Mothers' Day, and I wish you a wonderful time with your children. 

Now I hope I'm not all talk and no walk, time to go wash some dishes & talk to Mom!

Happy Mothers' Day, mum. I love you. I'm sure you know that, since I always say:

Mummy, you're my bae.

*NOT the Danish word for 'poop'.

arf arf arf.

The CounSeal officially stepped down at approximately 2000 hours, 6 March 2015 at HGH Convention Centre, Sentul, during the Orientation Ball. We're relieved of our duties, and:

I ain't writing minutes no more. (cue chorus of angels)

But that's pretty much where the 'relieved' part ends. We're all already missing how it feels like to be a member of the Student Council, to enjoy the luxuries of the SC Room (a.k.a. the Black Hole. Leave something there? Don't expect to find it ever again), to be given the privilege to plan, organise and host College events and be given the honour to serve the students of MCKL. We're all a little worried about having to sit alone in the canteen after having ditched our friends over the past 7 months. Now there's no SC Room to take refuge in. How now?

CounSeal's sleepover @ The Platform KL

Jokes aside, I want to bring up the blog post where I first mentioned being in the Council. I was excited, I was shocked (when elected secretary. Still am shocked), and I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Being in the Student Council seems glamorous and all, but if you even got a glimpse of what the Council members had to go through, you'd be shocked and probably, hopefully, appreciate them even more. 

Note that I spoke about the Council members as if I weren't a part of them. And this is how I truly feel. On the outside, everyone, including my parents and closest friends, everyone thinks I'm so close to the rest of the Council. Everyone thinks I'm so busy all the time to fulfill my Council duties. Everyone thinks I put in so much effort to serve the College and no one, except probably the Council itself, knows how untrue this is.

Yes, I write minutes. Yes, I make duty rosters. And yes, I was in charge of the whole election process with the Vice Secretary, Sara. But do these things really make my time in the Council worthwhile? I don't think so. These were part of my jobscope. I was supposed to do these things. Besides all this, I felt like I was hogging a space in the Student Council by literally doing almost nothing that required real sacrifice.

Us at the beginning (not full)

From the start, I promised my commitment. I promised to give my best and I assured the people who interviewed me that I would prioritise the Council. I really can't believe I was so blind and so careless. For goodness' sake, I have students to teach. I'm involved in church. There are so many commitments that really require my presence, my effort, my time. I even ran for President, and I'm so thankful that I didn't get it, because what sort of president bails out on every single Council activity? But I was so caught up in the fact that I got past the interviews that I didn't think twice.

I shouldn't have been in the Student Council. 

I should've pulled out before things started rolling.

Our official SC photo, for the last time.
(+ Ms Esther)

To all my CounSeals, I am sorry. I guess it's a little late to say this now, but I am sorry for ditching you guys so many times during preparations. I am sorry for not helping out much before Spectrum Dash and Orientation Ball. I'm sorry I didn't even attend SDash (I was at camp... But that's a story for another day ;D). I've tried to make up for it, but I felt like it wasn't enough. I am also sorry for being irresponsible, for being insensitive, for being inconsiderate. I'm sorry for taking up a commitment that I actually wasn't ready to handle, considering I had other commitments. And most of all, I'm sorry that I didn't give my best. 

Dance practices... without me in them. I'm sorry Abi & Jia Wei T_T

Dance practices were something I hardly attended. I had work. There was no way I could shift my classes around to accommodate after school activities. And that is the reason why I completely blame myself for being so irresponsible. For saying 'yes, I will do it' and completely not do it at all. 

But if there's anything to learn and to be grateful for, it's family. I'm grateful that you guys are so understanding. For saying, "You have work? Sure, we understand." I'm grateful that even though a bond had already formed during all the prep days and overnights, you all still left a little space for me to join you. And I'm grateful that no matter how many times I mess up your shifts and forget things, you all still understand. 

There isn't much to say about how we bonded, because honestly, all that stuff about bonding with me was through work as Council members. I feel like I didn't get to know you guys the way you all know each other during all the times I wasn't there. You're all so close, and sometimes I felt excluded. But that's normal in such a big group, I guess. I know it's not intentional, and it's not really easy to be so close to someone you hardly see. That someone is me.

Before this whole thing becomes a blog post of self pity, I really want to appreciate all those who took the effort to update me on things, who make sure I know what's going on, who ask me if I need help. A special shoutout, for the last time, to Sara for really having my back every time something went wrong, for helping me pull through datelines and basically making my life a little less burdened. I could never have asked for a more efficient, more organised vice secretary. Also, I'm sorry for the time you felt you were doing everything and I was being MIA. Really, really sorry.

One of our first Pre-U meetings, a farewell for 2NT5

Orientation Ball 2015 was the last chance to commit myself completely to the Council. I put in extra effort, and, even though I know my work won't match the amount of effort everyone else has put in, I hope the results were satisfactory. To Mr. Stage Head, Abel, thanks for filling me in on everything I missed out on, and I'm sorry if I disappointed you in anyway before & during the event. I hope my efforts met your expectations. To the entire OB team, you guys are seriously amazing. The event was your brainchild and it grew up to be an impressive event. Kudos to every single one of the SC members, old and new, for making it a success.

Despite all these 'negative' things, I really enjoyed this. Many memories have been made in that tiny little office of ours, what with Family Feud sessions, Thinking Out Loud being played hundreds of times, making too much noise and getting kicked out, witnessing Marcus' terrific dance skills, chilling on the sleeping bag, complaining about the mess, having too many red pens, fighting over what music to play, writing nonsense on the whiteboards... the list goes on, and it will go on forever.

But you know what? I'm glad I stayed through it all. I learnt some pretty invaluable things as a seal. Being in the CounSeal will always be a very important chapter of my life. It will be the greatest highlight of my College life, and it will always be remembered as the time I grew up the most. And I'm grateful for the opportunity to be part of it.

Our last ever general meeting.
Mondays, 5pm

It was a joy dhoom-ing with you all for the past 7 months, and I hope our friendship deepens into something that lasts a lifetime. I hope the existing bond between you all still has a little more space for me.

Our first day of being the Council... and our last.

And as Marcus once said:

  "Arf, arf, arf."