1st of September is Teacher's Day. But already we are celebrating it in school. Parents came to school come bearing gifts for the teachers. And even though i am not a teacher, i received gifts too. It felt nice even though i did not expect it. Some of the parents of the children i see for therapy were very kind and made us feel very apperciated. The gifts were not expensive, just a card or two, some flowers, little knick knacks and lots of food, most of which were cooked by the parents themselves. Everyone was just trying to say "thank you" in his or her own little way.

It is not easy being a teacher in a special school, i have noticed. A lot of care, patience, tolerance is needed. It is not unusual to see a teacher helping change a diaper, wipe up soiled floor, calming a throwing up child, wiping running noses, helping a fussy child to pick up the spoon to eat. More often than not, teachers have to deal with not one, but at least three other children at any one time. Being a therapist is nowhere as tiring as being a teacher. I can see why most parents are so grateful to these dedicated teachers. I am grateful to these teachers too. Because they know their student so well, i often rely on them to be able to work with the child. For example, the teachers could calm down a child who has stranger anxiety and started to tantrum at the sight of an unfamiliar psychologist trying to conduct a formal assessment on them. And it always pays to asked the teachers about the child first before coming to any sort of conclusion why a child is acting up. This is because the teachers are more intimately involved with the child, than a therapist who have only seen the child once or twice, regardless of how knowledgable a therapist can be.

One can never underestimate the extent of closeness a therapist have to work with the teachers when come to helping a child. And thus far, i am really happy when working with the teachers in school. They are generally people who are really concern for their little charges and are very willing to work with anyone to help improve their students' lives. I am very thankful.

So to all my collegues, all i really want to say is Happy Teachers' Day.

sometimes i prefer to think and not do
other times i prefer to do and not think

the rest of the time, i just not think and not do

I once remarked that keeping a kitten, especially a playful one, helps to prepare for the eventuality of having children.
You don't leave your child in a basket outside by the drain just because he broke your cd player or pull down the curtains.

Despite all the scratches, bites, damaged furniture, half eaten flowers, torn toilet roll, messy litter,
it is comforting to have a ball of fur to snuggle up to
when it lets me that is.

Life in itself is a Question.
So why are we so intent in looking for an Answer.

A children's nursery rhyme I found:

Hickory Dickory Dock
Three mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one

And the other two got away
with minor injuries.

So much for nursery rhymes.

Realization no. 19:

It is actually possible to act perfectly normal and end up believing in it.

Of planning an item for one's company dinner:

Too many ideas
Too little time

Finally settled for an idea which requires
no practices
no elaborate costumes changes
no lines to remember
no cues to remember
no placing to remember and yet

includes
songs
dances
poetry
drama
tragedy
thriller
humour and
suspense

It could either be a player's dream or an audience's nightmare.

My cat just had a shower.
He gave up screaming after the 4th time.

Of people watching:

I noticed that i have been paying alot of attention on people's faces outside these days. I mean really looking. Not your sitting by the coffee shop and people watch kind of looking. That kind of looking has a certain voyeuristic characteristic to it as you try to do it so that people would not noticed that you are looking. When i looked these days, i got some inquiring, some nasty, some curious looks in return. It is interesting as i have been looking as though i am trying to find a familiar face. Someone i might know or might have known. Sometimes, they looked back wondering the same about me. It further confuse people if i happened to smile. I am not sure what exactly i am looking at or looking for.

Perhaps i am just tired of looking at the ground, looking at the inanimate, looking pass and looking through at people. Even for a split second when you walked passed another, would you remember, in the next 10 seconds, how the other looked like? I am trying to remember. A 10 second photo memory.

People are a myriad of interesting details if you care to look.
A tiny nose ring.
Shaved eyebrows.
A mishapen nose.
A collection of pimples.
Purple spectacle frames.
A sunflower shaped pendent.
A misaligned skirt.

I wonder what do others see when they walked pass me.

Realization no. 18:

Sometimes it is difficult to remember what was said during an argument.

,.````//.`

My cat typed on my keyboard accidentally.
It was trying to swipe at my fingers.

Of staying awake longer than i should:

Which will keep going before dropping dead first? Your body or your mind?
At certain times of the day, my body. Especially when i was driving. I wanted to throw up. It was tedious opening my eyes.
At other times of the day, my mind. Especially after my therapy sessions. I couldn't concentrate. It was difficult to remember.
And there were also times, when i felt no effects. I was sane. I was alert. I was floating above others.
I wonder if i was dead.

There is a reason why people must sleep. To recuperate. To recharge. To rest.
To dream.
I think i need to rest, recharge, recuperate and dream more than most.
Perhaps that is why i felt as if i had died when i did not get any sleep for almost 48 hours.
No doubt the experience was interesting, i rather have had my sleep.

I enjoy giving my cat massages.
It is very theraputic.

And i asked again
as i had asked before

If you are to chance upon this and know who i am
will your perception of me change?

Of truth and lies:

How does one know when another is lying or telling the truth? Is it through experience or some say, intuition? Perhaps a little of both? But do you believe that if someone really meant to lie, you will ever have a chance to find out? Some say that the truth will prevail. The Truth. As if there is only one. Regardless of what precautions a liar might make, all will come out of the wash eventually.
Do you believe in that?

What would you do if someone lie to you?
What would you do if you lie to someone?

Does it matter? Some say that lies are just a reflection of the truth, be it skewed or distorted. No one will tell a lie that has no element of truth in it as a lie with no truth would be the first to be found out. It is like a cocktail mixture. 2 parts truth and 1 part lies would make it much easier to go down.
You wouldn't even notice it going down.
And if you don't notice it, does it really matter?

You may know me from reading what i have written.
Yet you may never find me between these lines.

Realization no. 17:

I could not remember what i dreamt about last night.

My cat is running a slight fever after the vaccination.
I was wondering if that's why he is more placid.

Dreamt of changing into a dolphin once.
It was wonderful looking at the world from another perspective.
Try as i might, i could never go back to the same dreamscape again.
All that are left are vivid memories half submerged in my subconsiousness.

Of public speaking:

I used to be scared to speak in public, even though i longed to be able to do so. That is why i love to get involved with drama productions when i was in school. I have a choice of working backstage and at times, on stage. Being on stage during a theaterical productions makes it easier to "speak" to a crowd, because you are acting, a different persona from yourself and things which you say are more or less structured and fixed (unless of course if you had forgotten or messed up your lines).

What i really want to is to address an audience as myself. To speak with clarity and confidence on a subject of my choice. The few chances i had so far, i found myself having to immerse myself in a seperate persona, almost like play acting, in order to stop my voice from breaking and stop my stomach from churning. No one would believe me when i said that i suffer from the fear of public speaking. For now, my method is adequate in preparing me to meet others expectations but not my own.

Realization no. 16:

Everything automatically aligns to the left.

my cat's tail is
curved with a
turf of
fur

My cat is about to be neutered.
I wonder how he will feel if he knew.

Of weighty issues:

How many of us at one time or the other feel that we are not at our desired weight? More often than not, there is a need to lost some than gain some. Many may set a target to be achieved. And yet, how many, once reached that target felt that there is more room for improvements? A little more tone? A little less around the tummy? A little more around the bust area? Less cellulites and stretch marks?

Personally i alternate between being bothered about losing weight and yearning to believe that you should be comfortable the way you are. And usually there is the specific target group where i will alternate between these two extremes. I would complain, gossip, aspired to girl friends for the need to lose weight, and display other such insecurities about my body and its many imperfections. But on the other hand, this is not something i am comfortable voicing to a significant other. To verbalize such compliants and hopes would indicate an acknowledgment of one's bodily imperfections and draw attention to the fact that "I am FAT" to him or her. It all gets very politically correct (PC) from this point on. I don't want to open the floodgates where my SO will too feel that i need to lose some weight. On the contrary, I hopethat he or she will accept me as i am, extra pounds or not. Hence, while it is okie that i feel that i need to lose some weight, it is not okie for the SO to know that i feel that i need to lose some weight. Which is why, there is the need to put forth the view that i am comfortable with what i am (paraphrased: please be comfortable with what i am NOW too).

It seems terribly unnecessary to go through all these mental hassles after all, it is really something that stems from my personal insecurities about my body mass. I don't think it is unreasonable to feel that only i have the right to criticize my own body. Perhaps what it really comes down to, is that i had really secretly yearn that while i hope that people can accept me as i am and feel comfortable about how heavy i am, i too can feel that way and be totally free from ever feeling that i need to lose weight.

A projection of an ideal for others, when it is really for myself.

Realization no. 15:

I have just ran out of time.

My cat likes to keep his claws long.
I like to keep my nails short.

An ode to sushi:

round. round.
little plate, kikkomann.
stop. open.
chopsticks flick flick.
poised.

where? where?
ah. wasabi.
dip. dab.
tips stir stir.
taste.

sniff sniff.
all cleared.
open. pour.
bag swirl swirl
glurp.

this! that!
futomaki, sake sushi, california roll.
tuna salad, charamushi, soft shell crab.
wait. glurp. dip. dab.
SNIFF.
ah.
sake sushi, charamushi, katsu don
teriyaki, teppanyaki, tempura.
sniff. dab. glurp
burp.

round and round.
many colours. high.
moan. groan.
tummy pat pat.
sigh.
sniff.
glurp.
ahh...

smile.

If i am not addicted to taking the next breath to go on living
I would attempt to go cold turkey and just stop breathing.
But i would not.
As i am curious enough to see how high breathing can bring me.

I like to write in quartets.
It is a nice even number
that helps to balance out my structure,
and is adequate to say all that is needed.

One more line for empharsis or counterpoint.

There are times when i miss my friends.
Having them around to just chit chat with.
I think i don't see them enough these days.
Why is that?

Bad as i am, i couldn't resist one for the cat:

I have a cat named ruski,
who can be quite scary.
He pounces and he bites.
He will chew whatever he likes.
No wonder he has such a big tummy.

Realization no. 14:

I can't write limericks to save my life.

My early attempt at writing limericks:

I have a dog named sambar,
Whose fur is black like tar.
He loves to sleep.
A bone is all he keep.
I don't know why, but it all sounds quite "salah".

If you ever feel that i write bad poetry,
please don't let me have a clue.
For i am easily misled into thinking,
that you're just another feeble-minded fool.

Realization no. 13:

I need to call my parents tomorrow.

My cat have sharp claws.
My limbs bear testimony to its powress.

Of eating sushi:

I have a craving for sushi that can only be described as unnatural. I have a need to eat raw salmon once every week, at the very least. Come weekend, when asked, "so what do you want to eat", i will invariably reply "sushi". Unless of course if the person who is asking is 1) not a raw fish fan 2) a person i don't know very well 3) my mother 4) all of the above.

I used to hate sushi. Maybe hate is too strong a word. More like "unwilling to try new things". I had long decided that i did not like seaweed. That was back in primary school where they used to sell package of thin seaweed for 20cents a pack. It had a strong alkaline taste that reminded me of soap, and when it melts in your mouth, reminded me of sea slime. At that time i had no idea what sushi was. Till i was in secondary school, i had always though rolling rice in seaweed constitute sushi and eating sashimi is the equivalent of eating sweet sour pork without the benefit of cooking the pork first. The idea was not appealling, hence i was adament in refusing to try any of the "raw stuff".

Then came a period of time when i felt game to try anything "just once". My friend started me with the cooked stuff like tempura, the katsudons, the chewanmushi. And then moved to the "semi" cooked stuff like pickled jellyfish, salmon mixed with mayo and avocado sushi, before having my first piece of raw sake sashimi. I guess i never looked back from then on and have been trying it "just once" every month (at least) ever since.

I think the next time i feel adventurous i will attempt to try some fried insects or grubs. Thing is, where do i find them here?

When i said "i think i am addicted"

It wasn't to blog per se.
But to living and to life and all that it entails.

My world ceased to be silent
from the day i become aware
aware of life
an addiction to life

I ceased to crave for silence

A cracked pane.
A crack pain.

Realization no. 12:

I remembered more when i tried not to.

One reason why i tried not to register this trip:

It was a "mock" holiday which i didn't want to remind me of the real holidays that i had had.

While driving through Malaysia, I was reminded of driving through England on its expressway.
I wondered if all expressway looked the same.
I started seeing expressways from all the places i have been to.
It was an uncomfortable feeling.
One which reminded me what i had missed.

I think my cat missed me.
He tore up my room.

Of driving, travelling and holidays:

I once had a habit of writing about my trips. I would try to remember the details of my trip: what did i do? where did i go? what was the name of the place? funny anedotes? But this time i was consciously trying not to register any of these. Even though it was the National Day weekend, it did not feel like much of a holiday.

It was a family affair. Cousins, aunts, nephews, nieces, maid all packed into two cars along the trip to Serembem and KL. I was the designated driver (obligatory since i had the car). The trip there was uneventful and i thought about my friends in Singapore. We reached our destination on time.
Most memorable sight: road block
No of accident witness: 0
Amount of time to get there: 5 hours (inclusive of traffic jam at woodlands checkpoint)

We stayed with my aunt. It was the first time i have been to her house after a long while. Finally as a tourist and not a rehab detainee. She knows what i liked to eat and the best thing about this trip is revisiting all my favourite food. The kids were over the moon as they have never been on a road trip and infected us with their excitement. I have never seen them so talkative. We spent quite alot of time watching cable tv.

I vaguely remembered going to a tourist beach that had passed its expiry date: yellow sands with empty food stalls. We packed a picnic and gotten lost thrice before finding the place. It used to be THE place for family outings back in the early 80s. I remembered going there when i was 6. It looked different now.

There was also an outing to a nearby hill where there was a mountain stream and a waterfall. The kids paddled and the adults watched. We did not see the waterfall as it was a 3 hours climb up. The toilet was surprisingly clean. I don't remember the name of the place but there was a pile of rubbish near the sign.

We did not drive into KL during the day as planned. I refused to drive there after all the horror stories i have heard: traffic jams, messy roads, maniac drivers being the least frightening ones. We did however managed to go into KL one of the night in my cousins' car. We went to the night market. It wasn't very exciting perhaps because i did not want to shop for 1) fake watches 2) handphone accessories 3) t-shirts 4)sunglasses. We stayed for 2 hours and got lost on the way back. It was not as dreary as it sounded, actually it was rather exciting. I wouldnt drive into KL but i don't mind someone driving me there.
Most memorable sight : a headless cat on the road still kicking its leg after being crushed by a bus.
No of accidents witnessed: 3
Amount of time took to get there: 1 hour
Amount of time took to get back: 2 hours

The macdonald in Serembem opens at 10am and does not serve breakfast.

The last night we had steamboat at a uncle's. It was his birthday. We bought a pandan layered cake as present.

Petrol was RM1.16 per litre as compared to S$1.33 per litre in Singapore. I wish i could bring home a few barrels.

I enjoyed over-taking singaporean cars along the expressway on the way back.
"The epitome of kiasu-ism is to start queueing before you even get there."
It worked. There wasnt a traffic jam at the Tuas checkpoint.
Though i cant be sure that was where those cars were heading in the first place.
Most memorable sight: My cousins' sideview mirror flying off and cartwheeling on the expressway.
No of accidents witness: 0
Amount of time took to get home: 4 hours.

Home-coming is always nice.

Realization no. 11:

Never assume.

I will be gone for 3 and 1/2 days.
Will my cat miss me?

Of the order of reading one's comic strips:

While typing the previous blog, it dawned on me that i am very rigid when reading my comic strip everyday in the Life Section.

Method:
I start on the left top column and move downwards. Skimming most of the way but might pay some attention to "cathy" and "dudley". Once i reach the bottom of the left column, i move to the adjacent bottom right column to "baby blues" and move my way up. Going pass "foxtrot" and "james" before taking my time with "get fuzzy". I tend to leave the one i like most for the last. No matter how much of a hurry i am in, i will proceed with the same order. Except i will rapidly skim through all the rest, while carefully avoiding looking at "get fuzzy", because i don't want to have any hint of the joke.

Likewise for the Sunday Times comic strips. I will proceed on a Left top to bottom then Right top to bottom order, carefully leaving out "sherman"on the first page and "get fuzzy" on the second. I will go back to them once i finish all others, starting with "sherman" and ending with "get fuzzy".

This routine is only subjected to change when there is a change in comic strips, rendering it necessary for me to once again evaluate, which strips i like most. And finally, proceeding with the necessary change in the order of reading of comic strips.

Realization no. 10:

It cost alot to change to a new laptop.

I have just noticed that there is something a little wrong (not a lot but a little) with my laptop screen. I have not noticed that before. Yet i can't be sure that it wasn't there yesterday. It seems new to me though, yet it could be that my mind was occupied with more important things last night while i was using the laptop, that i fail to notice something, for some reason now, intrudes into my peripheral vision. I can't quite help not looking at it while i am typing. It is like a itch you cannot relieve because it only exist in your mind, or in your inner left eyelid. I am now wondering what had happened to my laptop while i was away at work. A reason for my screen to have a thin green line (not red) running down the left hand side (measuring 2 1/2 inches) all of a sudden.

I noticed that there is a streak of fastidiousness within me these days. Perhaps it was something innate but i have only noticed it gaining prominance once i started working. There is a need to be in control, for things to be in comprehensible, explanable order. That in itself is rather disturbing since i have always pride myself as being adaptable and flexible. On further reflection, i think i am both flexible and inflexible to some degrees depending on the situation.

What to eat forBreakfast/lunch/dinner: flexible
The order of food eaten on my plate: inflexible
How i want my therapy room to be arranged: flexible
Where to keep my working materials: inflexible
Where to go with friends: flexible
What movies to watch: flexible
The order of comic strips i read on the Life Section: inflexible
How i write: flexible
Views on how i write: inflexible
When to meet: flexible
When to be met: flexible
Morals: flexible inflexible

I can be extremely rigid on how i want certain things accomplished. I often say that my mind is on a perpetual mode for looking at short-cuts, the "best" way for doing something. Why spend more time doing something which can be done for less time? And trusting that the method i am already set on is the most efficent one, why should i attempt to do it another way? But only for things that i feel strongly about. Similarly i may also have very strong or set opinions on subjects which i care about. It could range from how i read my comics to religion. Fortunately for friends and family, I don't feel strongly for things that very often. So i can rightly say i don't care what movies to watch, what to have for dinner, anyone else can make the decision. It gives the appearance that i am rather easy going, which generally, i am of course.

Back to the thin green line. It irritates me. It irritates not for the fact that it is there. It irritates me because i cannot explain how it got there. If it was anything involving me and my property which i cannot explain, i have a tendency to break out in a bout of irritation. Of course, how badly hit i am is directly proportional to how attached i am to the object. So this part of my rigidity and fastidiousness is not often seen (except close friends and family).

A thin green line runs
from the top
down.

Time to change?

Realization no. 9:

I am not ready for a holiday.

Cat sleeping next to my laptop.
For once, my feet is free.

Ahh marriage.. lovely subject matter to talk about. Once you enter a certain age bracket, the question about marriage inevitably comes up. From family, from friends and sometimes even from aquaintances. It seemed like a whole new world of topic has just opened up. People whom you have not seen for a while would ask if you are married when all they used to ask were if you were attached.

Big difference. Marriage and Attached. Two singular concepts which are similar but really a world or two apart. I have always felt that one has to be either, reached a certain maturity level to discuss marriage or could be, very simply put, rather naive. Sometimes just the fact that you are getting older means it is almost a prerequist to discuss marriage in order for a relationship to continue. There are many rational logic behind this: time and money management being the first and foremost concern for some.

Think of the time you need to queue for a flat from the HDB which is invariably linked to being only able to affort the new flats and not some other more expensive options. For example, freehold, condos, open market, all of which will bypass the need to wait for 3 to 5 years for a new flat.Think too about the money needed for the preparation for the wedding itself; the dinner, the honeymoon, the renovations, the rings, the photographs, the wedding dresses and tuxedo. And think also about the time needed to plan such an event, the time needed to register for ROM at the date you would like, the hall for the wedding dinner, the wedding guests, where to for honeymoon, what kind of wedding etc etc etc.

The logistics involved are staggering. And that is only the event itself. What about post event? When do you want to get marry has great influence on some women. Is she going to pass the optimal child-bearing age? The possible effects of a late pregnancy? And if you have children late, that would also mean you could work right up to retiring age and still be supporting your children.

I can go on and on. But what is the most important in this whole deal of marriage and the possible baggage which it entails? What about the "love till death to us part" bit of it? I have no doubt that love is part of marriage and the decision to get married. But how is it possible in this day and age to make love the all deciding factor when there are so many things else to consider. It could be a case of "the spirit is willing, but the wallet is weak". How many has succumbed to hurrying such a momentuous decision because of all the extraneous variables involved? Ever wondered if that could have an impact on our divorce rate as well?

It is therefore interesting when I have noticed that i too have stepped into that precarious age bracket, with looming decisions sitting by my door, and looking at how i can potentially cope with it. I must say sometimes these fears are rather gripping. It doesn't help to have heralds blowing the wedding march on silver trumpets everytime you turn around to attend another friend's wedding. It is both pressurizing and potential for pressure induction on your significant other. I have to admit that i too lose my grip on "reality" (or perhaps the ideal: love being the ideal reason for marriage) at times. But most people in this day and age who has his/her mind to want marriage on their future agenda will have to grapple with these issues in various degrees. I guess i am no exception either.

Too many things happening at one time.
Think I will just run through them one by one in no more than one/two line.
After all, efficiency and time management are the key issues these days where i work.

Movie: Funny but not fantastic and book was better.

Sushi dinner: Salmon is not fresh but liked the charamushi.

Company: Sandwiched but lopsided interaction.

Chinese dating angmoh: Should do what you deem best for yourself, except such a life is not for me.

Better to have something than nothing:
In the context of having someone to be with when you are lonely, i can only say i will try to be my best company first and forthmost, if all else fail, it is worth considering as loneliness can be crippling.

Chocolate attack: Trying to cut down but sometimes temptation is just too over-powering.

Searching for the elusive mandarin lyrics.
Damn it.
Running out of time.

My cat makes little sounds while he slept.
It is the kind of sounds that makes you go "aww.."

Is this a journal?
I would say it is more an avenue for me to speak my mind.
To a potential or make-believe public no less.

Surely i am allowed to make the choice of neither hiding my thoughts from others nor publicizing it to everyone?

"Things are not always in black and white. Sometimes they come in shades of grey"

Thinking of re-reading Bridget Jones' Diary.

I have a habit of re-reading. Everything that i like. Once, twice, thrice. More often than not, the books that i would have kept on shelves would have pass the thrice-reading mark. It makes perfect logical sense, if i don't like the book, i wouldnt even bother to finish the book, much less re-reading it. And the converse is true for books that i like.

Some asked me if i wouldn't be bored or sick of re-reading my books. Don't recall ever feeling so. After you accumulate a collection of such re-readings, you can always circulate them. To keep them fresh.

I enjoy re-reading. I could be a sucker for predictability. After all, i am the sort to enjoy spoilers and synosis of shows which i have not watched. Where then is the element of surprise? Oh, but i enjoy surprises too. Just that while i can enjoy the surprise of something unfamiliar seen for the first time, i also enjoy the predictability of something familiar. It is comfortable, like meeting an old friend.

Sometimes re-reading old books help you uncover new things as well. A detail which escaped you in the first reading. An idea which became more apparent after the third time you have read it. Connections which only existed after you re-read it for the umpteen time. I enjoy making new discoveries on well-throdden terrains. It requires more intimate knowledge of the book and is much more satisfying than making a brand new discovery.

Think that i will go re-read Bridget Jones' Diary after all.

Realization no. 8:

I didn't get any withdrawal symptons this time.

My cat is getting comfortable on my lap,
while my feet is getting uncomfortable.

Who says you have to be singaporean to enjoy singapore national day songs?

My personal favourite national day songs:

1) The singapore town (love it before they revamped it this year)
2) Five stars arising
3) We are Singapore

I heard a good question on the television today. It was on a trailer for a current event show, solicitating views from the public. The question was, to paraphrase, why do the government spend so much to commission new national day songs/spiffy mtvs each national day? Does doing so help singaporeans feel more "singaporean" and aid in building nationalism?

Interesting thought, especially while i was in the midst of copying out big copies of national day songs lyrics for my school national day celebrations. I think this nationalistic trend of singing national day songs such as "count on me singapore", "stand up for singapore" started back in the early 80s, when nation building was of paramount importance, in order to gel the increasingly detached population. I wonder if it worked. Or has it been made to become a habit, an expectation that we will have a new song each year henceforth?

My cat enjoys going over to my neighbour's
I don't think the feeling is mutual.

More and more each day, i prefer to live in another world than here.
Especially now.

Why should your form of self-expression be art
while mine is just a whine?

Why do i have to justify why i write, how i write, how i present, how i should aspire what my writings to be to you or anyone else who read this page?

Why should what i write be kept under the drawer so that it will bear the proud label of being a piece of good writing?
Why should i stop these personal writings in public in order for it to stop being labelled as whining?
Why should i actively seek out an audience so as to justify my writings as a bona fide piece of writing as oppose to just a whine?
Who decide how one should express him/herself?
Who is to say you are more or less of a whiner than me? Just because i don't actively seek out people to critic my writings?
Who is to say that i am whining just because i write in public?

They have no right. And you have no right.
I decide what i want to write.
I decide how i want to write.
I decide how i want to present my writings.
That's my right to self-expression.
And you have no right to belittle it.They have no right.

Realization no. 7:

I whine?

"thinking aloud equates to whining"

So i guess the children that Vygotsky talked about are all whiners.

National day is coming. And i am incharge of the program for the kids as well as being the emcee.
I think i will probably screw it up. Added pressure from previous well-executed programs too.
Tonight i was going to copy out the lyrics to those national day songs onto big mahjong paper, but decided that i was too tired.
Tomorrow would still be alright.

I remarked, "asking a malaysian to be incharge of singapore's national day, what irony."
My brother added, "take chance to sabotage it and stop the spread of propaganda."

Sometimes i think my brother and i are pretty alike.
No wonder we are both my mother's children.

Driving on the road today, i noticed that i am thinking about blog. Or more correctly, i was thinking blog.
That's disturbing.

I read somewhere before on my horoscope that pisces has weak will-power and are subceptible to addiction. Perhaps that is true. Or at least i believe so. Hence that's one of the reason I delibrately refuse to start smoking. Because i don't want to have an opportunity to abuse it (strangely, i did not adhere to such rules for alcohol, but that is another story).

So now, am i addicted to blog? like i was addicted to irc? icq? sleeping? daydreaming? bbsing? reading forum pages? coffee?
What is addiction? To be abusing some substance/thing in great quantities? To be dependent on it? If i were to loosen the criteria for being an addict, for example, i know of some drug addicts who live perfectly functional lives, then won't that make us all an addict of some substance at some point in time, in various degrees of addiction?

hongkong series, japanese dramas, various cartoons, armani, dkny, macpepper burgers, kfc, sms-ing, clubbing, sci fi movies, books, earl grey tea, particular music genre, watermelons, green tea, sushi, sashimi, flowers, pet dogs, pet cats, pet fishes, old photographs, old watches, stamps, old records, soft toys, hello kitties, freebies, airplane food, female magazines, 8 days, 93.3fm, class95fm, old songs, blue, pink, yellow, dancing, singing, ktv, laughing, melodrama, complaining, a 6 pack, ice wine, sunsets by the beach, wind in the hair, night time, day time, floral scents, spicy scents, curry, rainy days, success, money, channel surfing, web surfing, emailing, bbsing, icqing, ircing, collecting mp3s, making innate telephone calls to pizza huts
calling 1711
looking at my cat sleep
burrowing under my duvet
dreaming
working
smiling
worrying
thinking
living
life

I think i am addicted.

Realization no. 6:

I never mentioned my cat's name.
It seemed irrelevant since it doesn't know its name
and at the bottom line, it is a cat. And it is mine.

My cat likes to chew on my fake flowers.
I moved the bouquet to my mom's room.

Today i had a new ET child. ET as in educational therapy, not extra-terrestrial. He is to replace my other ET child (whom i endearingly called my little spitter, for obvious reasons) on my friday mornings. Both are diagnosed with ASD, i.e. Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

My new kid is probably easier to work with after my previous one who had alot of problem behaviours that can be dangerous to himself and others (e.g. throwing a chair). Somedays my hair would stand because i put on my "alert" mode for all possible behaviours that he could exhibit, spitting being the least dangerous. Actually i was making some progress with him when the mother decided to take him out of school because she doesn't have time to bring him for the weekly half hour session. It wasn't easy trying to be understanding to his mother because i felt her priorities were, how should i say, "skewed". It seemed frivolous to take a child out of the only available therapy he is receiving and which he badly needed because she would not ask for half hour time off on fridays from working part time at her sister's. And this was just as he was getting settled down and improvement, however minute, was made after a long tedious process.

To be honest, i know i lack in empathy towards certain adults, which made my difficulty with working with parents much more apparent. My first and foremost responsibility and priority would always to be for the child. I can and will sympathize with parents who have problems. In fact i would do anything within my ability if a parent was to have genuine need for help. This is because we need parents to be well to help the child and family. But how do one explain that there are parents who would not put their child first (more so if the child has been adopted). I find myself unable to condone or even remain objective when i meet such parents. Needless to say, i have become more emotionally involved than i am suppose to. But it is difficult not to be emotionally involved at all for me, i really can't help it.

Back to my new kid, on the contrary, i doubt i will have much problem working with the child because in terms of behaviour, he is definitely more managable. However, i foresee that i will probably have some teething problems with his parents. Compared with my last parent, they are actually very "on the ball" regarding their child. He is already on many other therapies outside of school and has a fully set-up structure at home for him. In fact, my pressure does not come from an inactive parent, but over protective ones. One that doubt my ability to perform, doubt the school's program, doubt that the child could benefit any more on top all the other therapies he goes to. I felt that there was a high expectation for me to conform to do what they think it is best for their child because they are so "knowledgable". But as i said, it could be teething problems. I have no doubt that i have something to teach or help this child in, and i would need to let the parents see that. However, if they want to take him out of school because my services are not "value added", i would not feel any qualms about it because i know this child would receive all the help he needs from these parents. If he does not take the slot, other child with more needs will.

Two children, both autistic and two different families, two different attitudes. Sometimes i wonder how will i ever learn to cope with all these differences. It is challenging and my own prejudices and being opiniated could get in the way. I guess i have never been the accepting sort. I admit i need more patience with some parents, my only problem is how i can do that.

Life is unfair, especially to a disabled child. I know i will never be able to "right the wrongs" for them which is why it is so hard when parents get in the way as well. It is both sad and exasperating.

So i asked myself: "what can i do?"...

Realization no. 5:

You might have been pissed.

My cat bit me.
I dropped him on the floor.

Last night was interesting. I finally had a taste of how it feels like to be a sarong party girl, san the sarong, with all the whispering going on behind my back. I don't regret though, after all, once you decide to heck care what people might think, it had been great fun.
A couple of beers and flaming lamboginis later, our hosts-turn-guests really stood out of the crowd. I am amazed at their seemingly innate ability to be completely oblivious of how people may look at them, or care how they think for that matter. Quite refreshing and i bet none of that "oh my, this is embarrassing" ever crossed their minds. How liberating to be ever so totally self-possessed and confident. Would it be racist for me to say that such qualities seem more inherent in the western culture than asian? Over-generalizing i think. Oh perhaps it was the alcohol.

In any case, here's to four enthusiatic italian sailor-pups. Cheers.

I live in another world between 7.30am to 8.00am, and 6.00pm to 6.30pm. Approximately.
But you wouldn't have known that.

My cat fell asleep on my lap again.
I don't want to move him but my feet is numb.

I love my job. I love the things i do and the children i see.
No matter how tiring each day is, i always go home feeling like it was worth it.
Would i be conceited if i were to say that i am good at what i do? But that's how i feel and what i know.
And the best thing is I am having fun! I am learning! I am doing something worthwhile!
And I make a difference. Every day.

This is all i asked for.

Realization no. 4:

Everything we do, do have a reason.
Even if it seems trival, like "just want to do it", is still reason enough.

I was thinking something along of the lines of a disclaimer.

Why did i start writing this? I think all writings are for an audience. I write as though i am addressing someone, you for instance. And we (you and I) agreed that there can be no you. As sure as you can't be sure that I am the one writing this.

Sounds confusing isn't it? It really makes one's mind do mental mazes. Going round and round.

To simplify.
I write for an imaginary audience in my head. They could be someone else. They could be just myself. Whatever it is, they (you/I) have all the hopes/aspirations/expectations that I alone conceive for them (you/me). And you, the real person who might be reading (i.e. audience) have no idea that i have already done so. You read this as though i am writing to you and for you. Because in a warp way, i am. And you, though you might feel that you know me from what i have written (to you), can never be sure that it is to you and for you. You can't be sure that i have been truthful, that i am being myself.

In any case, i thought i should clarify this. To you. Just in case you have any expectations of me (from myself).
But certainly, all these points should have been implicit. Shouldn't it?

Realization no. 3:

I can't remember what it was i wanted to write.

If you are to chance upon my thoughts and know who i am
will your perception of me change?

Realization no. 2:

I have underestimated you. You are more mature than i have given you credit for.
In some ways i am proud of you. (even though saying so makes me a patronizing bitch)
In other ways, you have shown me that you are just as i have made you out to be.

Whichever the case, i wish you happiness and thank you for seeing me the way i have never thought myself to be.

Which is me?
The one that speaks.
Or
The one that writes?

I bet you would be confuse too.
Since you probably have problem wondering which you is you.

My cat lies on my lap purring.
He is fat and my legs are numb.

I am shallow.
I just realise that. Or perhaps more rightly i should say, i have just stated outright that i am shallow.
I have a perverse need to appear philosophical. I enjoy philosophy. But i am always worried that it would make me appear pretentious. And that in itself is pretentious and hypocritical. I want to be unique. Though i might not be, i would suffer gladly under the delusion that i am.

One thing that i am always proud of is the fact that i am self-aware to some degree. I am an outwardly optimist who is inwardly a pessimist who continually worries that she is a closet optimist. And so the cycle goes on and on. The deeper the hole i dig.

All the thoughts i have put down here would not accomplish anything. Writing them down would not give me an answer or solutions to my questions. They would not clarify and help me make sense of myself just because now they are put down in black and white. Because i am aware that no matter how "truthful" i try to be, i will still subconsciously delude myself in one way or another. So all these are just an exercise in vanity.

You.
What a generic term in this context.
You could be you. You could be someone else.
How do you know who you are?
Things will always be in doubt when not stated explicitly.
I enjoy holding such power over otherz, but never when others exercise it on me.
Contradictions are the essence of humanity.

I lost all that i had type in one minute. An omen?