It's that time of the year again, the moment where we clean up old slates and write new promises for ourselves to be either fulfilled or broken.

This year, I got lazy. I didn't make resolutions because I know me, and 'me' doesn't keep 'em. But with recurring dreams and being shipped off to an island, I got myself thinking. Hard.

I need to do something different. This new phase of my life requires something proactive, something unique.

Resolutions:

1. Every two months, I must try to travel to a part of the island.

2. I must try to complete two books a month. During term break, I'll have a separate book list.

3. I must draw, paint or sketch once a month.

4. I must blog once a week, to keep the journalistic juices running.

5. Exercise is a must.

6. Fast food, once a month.

7. Maggi mee once a week, only.

8. NO MORE PROCRASTINATION!

9. Make up with a specific person.

There, 9 suffices.

:)

Happy New Year peeps!

The Education Center: Episode 1, "Good morning class."

The first day I started work at the Education Centre was the day I passed my interview there. The interview was swell, I believe my boss-to-be was trying to intimidate me and raise the bar then plonk it on my head so as to make sure I knew what I was signing up for.

Truth is, and I am not being cocky, I knew what I was signing up for. And what I signed up for reared its ugly head at me when she called me up for Part 2 of the interview, the mock class.

The class consisted of three primary school kids, 2 12 year-olds and an eleven year old. A girl and two boys. I stood at the doorway, one of them looked up at me and said;

"An Indian? NO! I hate her."

Boy, the class hadn't even started!

And so I started, I played nice. I completely ignored the greeting and the other two students quickly condemned him for being racist. Though my boss did try to explain, I guess I understood why he reacted that way.

We did simple things, basic grammar. I thought we were going on fine until the boss walked in. The jittery, pesky butterflies attacked my tummy and I missed out the first person references for plural and singular verbs.

She reminded me, "What about I and you?"

I muddled it, having no idea how to simplify it. She then jumped to the situation and explained it, incorporating 'asses' into it. She then told me sometimes 'horny' explanations helped.

I didn't know whether I should be relaxed, surprised, disgusted or be in fits of laughter but you know what? It worked.

The bildungsroman.

I thought of opening a new blog. One with no name, no mark, no tag that bears my identity. I wanted to be anonymous so that I could blog and be rude about it, so much so no annoying relative's commentary or annual report will find it's way to my parents' ears. But then I realized, starting on a clean slate would be completely contradicting the very word.

Bildungsroman.

It refers to growth of a person or a character. Growth:- not only physical but mental, spiritual, in character and thought.

This blog is my bildungsroman. It is proof that I have (don't cough now) grown. Not just in size but in character and (laziness) and thought.

Hence, I shall begin again, with a new voice. One with aspiration and dream. To teach.

Muahahahaha.

This is my series of "The Education Centre".

Greetings and Salutations.

I miss blogging. My mind needs to work. Write good English. I feel somehow I have forgotten half the words I usually use, since I started to work.

I only seem to know phrases like these;

"Be quiet and do your work."

or

"Hey, can't you keep quiet for a second?"

or

"Where's your book? Why didn't you bring it?"

Somehow, working as a tuition teacher has made me realize several things:

1. I do not want to work in a city. City kids are rude and ungrateful.

2. A teacher's job can be mundane if you are forced to work according to the status quo.

3. Teaching acquires perseverance. If you can buy it in bulk, it's a done deal.

Boy, is this place dusty or what?

WAH!

I haven't written for so long, it has been ages!

From a day to day blogger, I have now been reduced to this. Man, where's my discipline?

So hello bloggy!

How are ya doing? Just messing around eh?

Right now, I am reconnecting with kids.

Ever since I started teaching (as a part time job) I feel like I should re-examine my plans. I should consider teaching young children.

They are so cute, and so adorable. God, is just so awesome, I sometimes wonder where He got the idea to make little cute human beings called children that run around with cheeky smiles and chubby cheeks.

I don't feel so awkward with them anymore.

Last Sunday, Ps Gurmit told us about his personal experience with motherhood. His wife heard their baby son cry, and Ps was so sure that he was not. Determined to prove his wife wrong, he went to check on the son only to find him crying. After calming the child and getting him to sleep, he asked his wife how she knew that their son was crying. She said for 9 months she carried his in her womb, and there was a relationship built, in silence between child and mother. Nothing could break that bond. Ps then asked God for this kind of relationship with the son, but God said he couldn't attain that which only a mother could.

It's amazing what we women can do, that privilege God has given us.

Aah, kids. They're cute.

That Ignorant Racism

I'm pissed, so I'm writing.

Okay, it's not racism, just ignorance.

Even if it is, and I called it that, I'd probably get locked up in ISA and be blamed for causing some verbal genocide.

Have you been in a situation, where you have to been in this area, where you're the only who doesn't speak a common language, and everybody else does, and they carry on doing it all day without any regard that you may feel left out?

Well, that's practically the dance everyday, as soon as I punch in to the time I punch out.

I don't really blame them, they were born with their mother tongue slathered all over their tongues. This gives them the liberty to have this long, interesting sounding conversation, laughs and giggles through out the day. Why should they even make adjustments or effort to make a new being feel welcomed, at home or cared?

At these times, I feel like the penniless kid, staring at the ice cream vendor, as all the other kids pull out their coins and and wave them about, then walk past the kid happily sucking on their popsicles.

Ooh... what's worse, people in the same shade of your skin speak that same language. Then, when you ask them a question, they look at you point blank, give you a curt answer and continue talking to the fairer one in front of them.

Tis as though you require a certain skin tone to be spoken to, jackass.

Or maybe all this is just me as I approach my menstruation period.

Me over thinking.

Me tired.

Me go sleep.

Inspired by Christina Perri.

A ridiculous four lined poem.

You're gonna catch a cold,
Form the ice inside your soul,

So I gave you a hanker chief,

Instead you used your sleeve.

Nature's Worship: Driving will never be the same.

All creation sings to you, Lord.

The wind is the worship leader and nature is the congregation.

How they bend and sway to worship the Master, the Maker of the universe.

The flowers, look how they bloom,

Their way of dancing, twirling unto the Lord.

The grass, are the best evangelists.

They spread, no matter where, no matter how,

Spreading the gospel, the Good News, the great commission,

"Oh, be green and full of life, ye blades! Live, serve than lay your life in the arms of the Maker."

Humble are the bees, they buzz. Like Martha, they work,

Like Paul and Silas they sing.

Together, bees are the medley of work and play.

How creation cries out to you,

On the top of their lungs,

Their song is a song of rustling leaves and bright colours,

So easily missed as we drive along the roads,

At 80 kilometers per hour.

Cloud watching.

It was a Sunday and we were on our way to church. During the ride there, I noticed big white puffy clouds in the sky.

I sat there admiring the artful work of God.

Clouds are so beautiful, big and white. They're like bunches of cotton wool sprinkled on a huge pale blue sheet. But, that morning, under every cotton candy ball of cloud was a thin layer of grey cloud.

Some tiny grey clouds hovered far away from the big white ones, and one grey cloud said to me, "Just you wait, I am going to rain on your parade." She sniggered. Crafty little cloud. Church was swell, and then on our way back to church for Alpha, it rained.

Oh boy, did it rain.

She poured magnificently. If only I could find her, I would have congratulated her.

I love rain.

Do you hear me?

It has been a good 13 days since.

All I have to say is, perseverance and prayer makes all the difference.

Chin up. It's only the beginning.

:)

Aku Belum Mati.

I know this place seems like a corpse but in actual fact it isn't.

Sorry, I lied. It is.

So, here I am to revive this place with a little zing or two.

:)

Cheers everyone!

I am back!

Parting Gifts

The spirit of cleanliness had inspired my fingers that Saturday, and I was possessed. Throwing, recycling and more throwing seemed to be the only things on my mind. There behind a long forgotten cupboard was a tin of Wong Lo Kat. Bearing a message, "Drink when you are feeling tired", it was signed with the initials, PQ. It has been a year or so, since I have seen this girl who gave me the tin of herbal drink. This was one of the many parting gifts we gave each other before we went in our own ways.

Besides the drink, I was given a pair of shoes, which served me till its last straw throughout my Pre-U years, a hair band I still use until today, and a teddy bear. I see these items lying around, collecting dust, slowly losing the meaning behind its existence.

*****

When we were at National Service, everything meant everything. Being confined in limited space for a span of 3 months had restricted our minds from conceiving and discussing ideas that led us out of the camp's perimeter. We fought over the pettiest issues and laughed over the silliest things. We never spoke of anything that concerned of our future, we were only concern about the present and ourselves. Hence, when we began to leave, we were quite sure that we would miss each other so much, so we gave each other gifts, signed each others' shirts and books with promises of keeping in touch, (for probably the est of our lives).

Sadly, a few months in, our promises proved to be void.

*****

I held the tin in my hand, looked at the waste paper basket and tossed it in. Like our friendship, it was probably expired by now.

Faster, faster, faster...

In the world of Mac Donald's, microwaves and Maggi mee, the only word our generation wants to hear is FASTER. We're always trying to push technology beyond it's limits. Trying to make things work and function quicker than it can in its current position.

" Look, I got the iPhone 4."
"Oh really? What makes it better than the iPhone 3?"
"Urm, nothing much. But it's faster!"

"Awesome!"

Speed alone becomes a huge criteria that determines whether something is preferred or not, whether it is chosen, makes the market, remains in business or taken out, improvised and put back in for the challenge.

Whether it is an animate or inanimate object we express the similar anxiety and desperation for speed. If iPhones are the inanimate objects, let chickens represent your animate objects.

Our finger lickin' good friends have been injected with growth enhancing potions so that Colonel could serve us plumper chicken in bigger quantities everyday. We humans are willing to compromise our health, time and energy just to suit our impatient needs. No, not needs but wants.

What about our own lives? Don't we see the similar pattern?

Kindergarten, Primary school, Secondary school, College, University, Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Job Marriage, Children, Retirement, Death. The common drill.

We get so caught up in what the world wants us to do and expects of us, we forget to take time. We don't realize that by taking our time, we can prevent damaging our lives with the waste of impatience. We can learn to appreciate the people around us and time. We can prioritize on hobbies and enjoy being lost in this world by appreciating time. Yes, time ticks away, and it will never wait for you. Yet time is the one which determines the precise and perfect moment for all things to come together. That involves letting chickens grow in its own time, not rushing into education and relationships.

My challenge, while the whole world is in a frenzy rat race racing God-knows-who, slow down. There is beauty in patience.

******

To you:

I admit my faults and I realize that I shall allow time to determine how things turn out. I am practicing patience, because patience heals. You and I both need to take time to grow. Who knows, time may lead you to the correct person.

They call me lazy bum.

I hereby take an oath to post up at least a single post per week. This I shall do so that I:

• will not experience deterioration of quality of grammar whether spoken or written.
• will keep my brain juices flowing
• will not be lazy
• prepare myself for future writing
• will not be lazy

Yeah, that's it. And this does not count as one. Scroll up.