Flooding issues.

** My office robbed me off blogger today, and I had no choice but to blog at Xanga. Anyhow, I extracted the more important issues and pasted it back here. Because this is home.
I have two more days till I finally call it quits at my current company. But before those 2 days are up. I have to give up my computer. Drats.

Imagine 2 days, totally computerless.

-shakes head-

1. The gay blog. (www.colinandkero.blogspot.com)

It is of no surprise to me, that my guy friends are very disgusted by the contents of that blog.

When I first chance upon it (because it's quite hot now), I have to admit I got a little squirmish about it too. It's like watching Brokeback Mountain once more. And, like Brokeback, after the initial discomfort, I cannot help but feel for the boys, and admire their courage and love.

By the way, they are both young, and good lookers. And really not your typical gym-freaks with greek-god type bodies.

Perhaps explaining their unconventional declaration of undying love for each other. Their blog reminds me strangely of the blogs of the "normal" teens these days, and how they lub their darlins so much. In fact, the entire blog is mostly about their mutual love, and open admiration for each other. (That is, "I miss my dear, I lub my dear")

Don't balk.

At least these boys are proud of their unconventional love.

Who are you to judge whether their love is acceptable or not? Who are you to judge and say, that it is wrong Should love be confined between boundaries? Just because we are expected to procreate, do we then love only those of the opposite sex? What if, like they say they are born to love individuals of their same sex? Who are you to say it is wrong? Just because you cannot understand, does not mean they are wrong in loving one of the same sex.

Personally, (and this is only my own humble opinion) I feel that if one despises these homosexuals and judge them for who they choose to love, then you do not know love at all.

Because love is not physical. It is beyond intimacy and what you and I see on the surface. Instead, it's really a state of mind. When you love a certain someone, it fills you up inside, warms your heart and at that very moment you feel like the "entire universe conspired to bring you both together" (-borrowed from The Alchemist). So if the case happens for 2 boys, who are you to say, that's wrong? That you shouldn't love each other because both of you have dicks? Because love should be feeilng and a state of mind, why then should it be wrong for 2 boys or 2 girls to love each other. Just because they are not physically balanced you think its wrong? Then you're probably just a sex-starved kid.

Let's all close our eyes and filter out voices. In doing so, we filter out all prejudices and focus instead on a person in itself and their characters and personalities. We don't judge appearance nor do we assume identities. Then, could you be 100% sure you will love someone of the opposite sex??

I am only assuming that gays and lesbians love beyond physical attributes and look into a person's soul. I could be wrong.

Sometimes, I admire their courage to love and express.

Knowing that it is against convention, they choose to readily accept themselves and face the criticisms of society. One who's unrelentlessly tight and filled with their unforgiving preconceptions.

Should we not laude them for standing out and being proud?

Because, I feel it was not a choice.

Sidenote: If you were to realise. The ones that are so opposed to homosexuality are usually the males. And personally I feel, this is because males are more "sexed-up" than females. Where males are into the physical attributes of a partner (think, boobs, butt, legs) the females are more dreamy-eyed (think, romance romance romance). So I reckon, "straight" boys cannot imagine loving someone without the boobs, but females are still a tad bit more tolerant towards loving someone without a dick. (then again, loving boys with useless dicks are probably helped)

2. The Potatoes.

I think I have mentioned this enough. For the usual readers to know I hate to be called a Potato, and I frankly think I am not one. Because my mandarin is not as bad as it sounds.. So don't be all too shocked when I pull a couple of sentences in mandarin and understand very clearly what you are speaking about. In fact, I would love to include some mandarin words on my blog, if not for the template issue that refuses to display those characters correctly.

Anyhow, my potato-related topic today is my pure disdain for people who are proud of being potato. I don't know what is up your ass. But really, should it be something you are proud off? Given a chance, I would give an arm to be effectively billingual like Diana Ser and Michelle Chong. They are two of the few Singaporeans whom I truly admire, because they are conversant in both languages and they do not sound funny in both.And I am sure, they are able to read both the chinese and english papers. (and I can't)

I am not proud about it. Not proud at all.

But I know of some, who are proud of being potato, and they refuse or pretend they cannot speak mandarin. Or worse throw that language aside and deem it "low-class".

I admit la. Sometimes I do smirk at those mandarin speaking CHINA GIRLS or MALAYSIANS. And laugh at their funny english. But that doesn't mean I am proud of the fact that my mandarin sucks. (it really isn't that bad, I am trained by my Dunman High friend. HAHA)

Anyhow, my point really is.

There is nothing fantastic about "potatoes". So PLEASE, don't screw up your mandarin and make it sound funny ON PURPOSE just because it is COOL to be a potato.

Because, I think it's cooler to be good in BOTH. At least you have an edge over the "ang mohs"

I absolutely hate it when people TRY SO HARD to be POTATOES, when they are really TOMATOES (have bad sounding english but slang and try too hard)

Speak mandarin to me the next time. I want to be bi ling long (that is, billingual in that Dunman High girl's language) - You know who you are.

3. The Ah Ma

I actually don't want to mention about my ah ma in my blogs already. Cos I think everytime I do, I get oh-so-upset. And it's crazy.

But, I decide to do so in this entry. Because yesterday during my visit at the nursing home, my ah ma recognised me. Or so I (and my mum) convince ourselves to think.

I visited her yesterday in the nursing home after quite some time, and I almost couldn't recognise her.

Her sunken frame, short crop and perpetual frown made me just too sad. They way she deteriorates frightens me. And suddenly, I am filled with regret once more. Because I know, she probably wouldn't be there at my wedding, or when I have kids of my own. She wouldn't look at me when I am at my most beautiful and smile so serenely (yes, I think my ah ma has a very serene smile). She probably wouldn't be there to watch that toddler, who used peanuts to form a face just so eating porridge would be more enjoyable, walk down the aisle.

-snaps out-

So yesterday, she looked me in the eye, and I looked hers.

In my heart, I willed to see recognition in those eyes.

And I thought I did. Because she looked at me, long and hard. Then she started to mumble and mumble and mumble.

Mum asked her if she recognised me, and she continued to mumble, and actually nodded.

Maybe she didn't recognise me, but nod because it was in her reflex. But you know, that was good enough for me. Truly.

In the past, when she was in hospitals, I would visit her and speak to her in hokkien because I knew she understood and could reply. But yesterday, I just didn't know what else I could say to her.

I but only held her hands and called her ah ma repeatedly.
That's enough for me.

4. Filial Piety

I was inspired to dwell on this issue after speaking to my mother yesterday over lunch.

I think as a child of your parents. It is only right that one should love and care for your own parents. When I look at my mother, my aunts and uncles caring for my grandma the way they do. It touches my heart. And I wish when I am old and weak there would be someone like that doing those chores for me. Holding my hands and just talking to me.

When I visit the nursing home and watch those lonely old ladies in the same ward as my grandma.. It kinda frightens me, how loneliness seems to reflect on every one of their faces. Do we all face the same loneliness as we wait to die?

The 90+ y.o lady in the next bed has that loneliness reflecting in her eyes. So much so everytime she reaches her hand out to me, I had to hold her hand hoping to give her whatever comfort she seeks. And the thing is, she don't speak to me, nor do I to her. She is just contented with holding my hand tightly and looking at me. (Though she did tell my mum, that she likes my hair. HAH.)

Anyhow, before I digress and talk about all the old ladies in my ah ma's ward. Let me head back to the original topic. What is filial piety to you?

Wikipedia has its definition here

For me, I think filial piety is simply taking care of your parents.

And when I say taking care of your parents, it should be a "from your heart" act and not because it is an obligation.

It sometimes amazes me how people these days lack filial piety. Rebellion in an individual I can accept. Because I was rebellious (and my parents like to think that I still am). But at least, I know and I want to take care of them. When you take care of someone, sacrifices have to be made. Just like when your parents give birth to you, sacrifices were made on their part to take care of you.

I don't give my mother a lot of money each month. And honestly, I think they can maybe do without the money I give them. Not because they are very rich. But because my dad is still working la, and they don't spend alot anyhow (except on 4D and toto).

I hand over a nominal sum of money each month not because they need the money. But because it is something I WANT do for them, from my HEART. With that added money they could probably accumulate and take a small holiday because they deserve it. I make sacrifices just so it is less taxing on their pockets. And simply because every child is indebted to their parents. They made that sacrifice for you, paid for your, house you, feed you, educate you. It is only right that one repays their kindness and hand over the money from your heart and not your ass.

I know of people who's reluctant to hand over the money or worse, refuse to do so. Because they feel and THINK that their parents are comfortable or have sufficient funds.

It is simply revolting.

It's not about how comfortable or self sufficient your parents are.

But as their child, shouldn't you be making those sacrifices for your parents just as they did so for you?

Excuse me, I don't earn alot. But I give about 20% of my take home salary to my parents. Yes, with that amount of money, I could buy a Gucci Wallet (about there la). But I do so every single month still. SImply because I should be making this sacrifice for them.

Don't say you have not enough for yourself and thus not give your parents money.

It is the willingness to make that sacrifice.

I deem you less of a person if you are incapable of filial piety. It is not the words that you carry on your mouth. But the actions that accompanies the words spoken.

As the saying goes, Empty vessels make the most noise.

5. Corpses

This sad fact was so appalling I felt I needed to mention about it.

When I was young, like in primary school my grandmother (the other one -from my dad's side) use to stay with us for long periods. I remember my grandmother travelling all the way from Malacca and staying with us for a couple of weeks/months before packing up and going back. And she did this rather often.

There was once, I remember that day very clearly (and I don't know why). I was trying to study for my exams, and my grandmother was sitting on my bed. She started talking to me about her past, and how she hated her husband (my grandfather). I remember growing very irritated with her, as I sat next to her with a textbook on my lap. As much as I tried to ignore the stuff she was saying, curiosity got the better of me.

My grandmother related a story to me, of her they were so poor, some of her children actually died because they were too poor to see a doctor.

She gave birth to 10 children in all, and 3 unfortunately passed on.

Because she mention this to me a mighty long time ago, and I wasn't particularly very interested in it then, the details are fuzzy.

All these while, after she mention it to me, I put it at the back of my mind, and did not give it much thought. Though I think it's very very sad, to have to watch your own child die and not being able to do anything about it. Especially so when one of them was 4 years old.

Of course it gave me nightmares for abit la. But it passed.

I came to realise yesterday after talking about it to my mum, that none of these 3 poor souls had an actual burial.

*gasp*

So what happened to the bodies????

-shrugs-

They don't know.

Can you imagine that? Somewhere in malacca buried underneath, with no proper tomb or coffin are the bodies of these 3 kids. (and one of them's 4 y.o) So the bodies might have already been decomposed.

But..Oh wells.

(The end of my issues)

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If you survived all the above crap down to this very last para, I am deeply impressed. Because I wouldn't even do that even if I was shit bored. (So I reckon you must be). I hope it was worth it for you.