last days

Yesterday marks the last day of my marking exam scripts for this semester. Actually it was Monday. But some people just can't do their job properly you have to help out. And as I'm writing this, there are still a few problems with the exam scripts. Well, whatever. I'm just a part timer so stop bugging me. It's a tough job being smart. Anyway, my routine for the last few days (a week and some, to be exact);

sahur - sleep - mark exam scripts - break fast - tarawih - mark exam scripts OR talk crap OR watch Champions League football (OR any combination of the three :p)

I'm glad that it's all over. The marking part I mean.

Yesterday was also the last day I'm breaking fast at the TNB masjid for this year. Year in, year out, the masjid (or rather, the people behind it) have been very kind and generous to cheapskates like me. Let me tell you a little about what breaking fast at the TNB masjid is like; food are placed in a way to suggest people sit in groups of four (that is, each 'groups of food' have four empty plates to accomodate four people) and everyone sits and eats on the floor which is cool because everybody gets to be equal to everyone else.

Anyway, on my first day there (this year), there were lots of people and apparently not enough 'groups of food'. I wasn't in such groups, so I asked for an empty plate and kind of 'barged in' into one. Simply said, the group I was in have five people in it and food for four, supposedly. But none in the group complained, and at the end of the meal, the others even invited me for seconds, which I declined. Then and there, I think, the spirit of Ramadhan is captured. The spirit of extending your hands and being generous towards others, especially the unfortunate and poor ones (and the cheapskates, perhaps). My cheapskateness aside, with all the Ramadhan buffets and expensive a-la-carte breaking fast sessions, the ones I had at the TNB masjid were still the best breaking fast sessions I ever had, for the simple fact that they also offer food for the heart and mind.

It feels rather sad, then, to realise that yesterday was the last for this year that I'm going to experience such an experience.

..it was a Wednesday of mixed emotions I guess.

soulmates?

This morning as I was entering the men's room, she was entering the ladies'. Then and there, we had something in common

shitty finale

Last night I dreamt I was Einstein's pet. A pet. How weird is that? I was naked except for my underwear; a white bikini brief and I had long hair and hairy chest. Keeps me warm at night I presume. And Einstein, of all people. How weird is THAT? I had a chain, too. Around my right wrist. Nothing kinky.

Anyway I woke up at about 5 a.m and went to the water cooler. Apparently someone had been playing with the fire extinguisher last night. My futsal shoes, which I put in front of my room looked like it was made of beige colored velvet. Jolly good.

The highlight of my morning came when I was about to bathe. I omitted two of the most beautiful shits ever from my very own asshole. Seriously, they were perfect. Two perfect shits. I was halfway to giving them names or taking pictures of them. Then I remembered I'm not Japanese.

quarter-life crisis

Yesterday Kuman held a breaking of fast session at his (family's) new house in KJ. The food was great. While I was eating, Kuman said to me; "ko dah tak nampak budak2 dah skang beb. Nampak cam matang2 sikit" (you're starting to look your age). And I started thinking;

I'm 25 now and

1. There are choices and decisions that I'm going to have to make which I don't think I'm nowhere near ready to make

2. There will be routines I'll have to get used to

3. There are things that I'm no longer eligible to be part of (e.g: I can no longer go to cigarettes or chewing gum market survey sessions)

4. There will be things that I'm going to have to want in order to be deemed 'normal'

5. I will have to seriously think about my future ('future' here waaay surpass my next dinner)

..and it's giving me a few wrinkles up my forehead.

..I wish a rich girl would marry me so I can stop thinking about my future and start thinking other thoughts.

tolooongla saya

For the next few days starting today I'll be marking my students' examination scripts. I'm looking forward to all the "tolonglah saya Encik! saya kena pass ni" (please help me sir, I have to pass this) or "tolongla saya encik, entah kenapa arini saya blur semacam.." (please help me sir, I don't know why I'm so blurry today) and all the 'doa-doa harian' in their scripts ;) These are some kind of 'survival skills' for students. I mean, who wouldn't wanna have a bigger chance of passing a paper, huh? And for whatever reasons, these sentences almost always begins with 'please' and will include the word 'sir' or 'miss' or 'madam' (sometimes all three). That is so very polite of you :)

I myself never did these 'tricks' as a student (if you think I'm gonna admit doing such things, dream on :p) but it's quite entertaining really. Hehehe. And when you're doing it you actually believed that it might help you pass, in whatever way (ooops! Did I reveal too much? :p).

To all those 'survivors' out there, LIVE ON (But come on!! Study some more meh!)

rockin

A friend passed me these words out of the spirit of sharing, and I’d like to pass it on as I feel that there is much truth in them, and also the spirit should always live on (I being myself, of course couldn’t resist adding some..uh..’evolution’ to the words);

GOD allows life to be rocky. His challenge is not to let the rocks grind you into dust, or to change you into a rock yourself, but to polish you to become a brilliant gem

(in italics are the words I added myself)

Indeed that’s what life is all about ain’t it? We are faced with challenges that made life rocky and difficult. And if the challenges don’t ‘kill’ us, they make us stronger. But beware! Beware! One might turn into a rock as one becomes stronger. That is, heartless and without passion nor compassion. Or one might turn into a much more giving person. The latter is supposedly the hardest to attain. That is why they are gems I suppose.

To Lisya; thanks for the words. They are indeed beautiful. As you are :)

double digits

I escorted my grandma back to her house in Bunut Susu and got back from my kampong only yesterday. It’s been quite a while since my last time there-a decade or so if I’m not mistaken-and needless to say the trip brought back sweet memories of mine. Amongst my siblings I think I spent the most time there since my mother could not stand my behavior when I was a kid and sent me to my grandparents when I was five. It was a blast. A year or so later when I’m back home again with my parents I can’t speak proper Malay (Bunut Susu is in Pasir Mas, Kelantan, not the UK or Italy, although some might think Kelantan is in Germany, for whatever reasons). Oh and by the way, my kampong is Kampong Apa-apa (direct translation: Whatever Village. How cool is that?).

As it is with most kampongs, the folks in Kampong Apa-apa are mostly related to each other. And every face is familiar and the birth of every child is celebrated. During my recent trip I went for tarawih at the madrasah there and people were asking questions like “anok Zakiah dok?” (Zakiah’s son, isn’t it?), their eyes lighting up when they uttered my mother’s name, telling me they still remembered every moment of my mother being there; born and raised, and how happy they were when she ran to them telling what happened at ‘school’, hands clutching buah keranji and face littered with dirt. Until my recent visit, buah keranji is still the favorite snack for primary schoolchildren. But they no longer come in perahus (sorry I just can't resist that one. Heh, heh).

The sun rises early in Kampong Apa-apa. The heat would start to rise at ten in the morning till about 4 p.m. My grandma’s house is devoid of ceilings and I, bless my metabolism, would sweat like my sweat pores had been forced open and had to spill something out. I was constantly in a damp mode you won’t need those small yellow papers if you want to stick some notes on me (not that anyone would want to).

I like my grandma’s bathroom best. The bathroom is roofless. And I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me bathing, so it’s like way cool. Too bad the well there is no longer in use. Water from the well used to be so cold when I was a kid every time my mother ordered me to bathe before 8 in the morning I would be convinced that I’m a stepson and she’s purposefully trying to torture me :)

Too bad my camera wasn’t with me in my last trip. But the pictures in my head remain, the way they always do. I got home at about 6 a.m. yesterday and got a call from my grandma to ensure I’ve arrived home safely. How sweet can a seventy-something woman be?

oh and by the way, this is my tenth post. WHOOPEE!! needful unhelpful things goes double digits.

a decade of breaking fast

As it usually is with all the arrogant, self-centered people of the world, when doing nothing, you'll start thinking about how time flies by and whatever things have changed around you. Which is exactly what I'm doing right now, arrogance and self-centeredness all intact. As the Muslim month of Ramadhan progresses, I can't help but think how different things were when I was younger (as in, a decade ago) and how things are going on now. Much have been written about Ramadhan bazaars (and the incline in price and decline in tastiness -or quality, if you may- of the things being sold), so I'll just focus on what's happening in my own family. This might not be as interesting a read as Ramadhan bazaars would be but hey, I'm arrogant and self-centered, remember?

I'm from a rather large family of eight children. I've two elder siblings and five younger ones. In my family, the prospect of having a meal (lunch or dinner or whatever) together (that is, all of us sitting on the same table at the same time) is almost non-existent. We just eat whenever we wanted to. So one of the significance of the month of Ramadhan is all of us will be breaking fast at the same time. And we have some kind of a family day each time we break fast. Daily family days are fun. These are the thens and nows of these family days, a decade or so (nearly two decades to be exact) of breaking fast together...

Then: As big families usually do, we talked a lot amongst ourselves. We were never short of conversations and there usually were lots of bickerings. The eldest of my younger brothers would tease the one next in line; calling him a shorty and that particular brother would respond saying "you're not the tallest person in the world!" (for the record, I'm the most vertically challenged amongst my brothers). My two youngest brothers would call each other things like 'untidy' or 'stupid' or 'dirty' or whatever. Being the two youngest, they are the most aggressive in their bickerings and everybody on the table would constantly tell them to stop, and they will for like, two minutes before starting off again. My elder brother (the only elder brother I have) and I would be arguing on who's better looking between the two of us. Of course I always knew that he is and of course we were never serious but hey, you gotta fight for a 'title' right..? The only other people on the table would usually be my younger sister and mother, who would be talking to each other sans the bickering. Needless to say, we had a blast.
Now: Both my elder siblings have married so usually there are less people on the table. My younger brothers have (nearly completely) turned into one-word cyborgs. That is, they'll only answer whatever questions you have with a single word (If you're lucky they'll just nod or shook their heads). I guess teenagers are mostly like that. And they seem to have a whole lot on their minds all the time. Lucky for families they always have this 'comfortable silence' thingy.

Then: There were never enough food on the table. This is not to say that we did not have enough to eat, just that everybody seemed to have a huge appetite all the time. We weren’t that hungry. Just a li’l bit greedy.
Now: Everybody seems to be less passionate about food. We kind of spread it out; we eat after tarawih, while watching tv, etc. It’s a healthier way to enjoy food, albeit a little boring way of doing it.

Then: Whenever we went to the Ramadhan bazaar (which is like, everyday), we bought everything. OK I’m exaggerating. But we bought a lot. GREED :)
Now: We rarely go to Ramadhan bazaars anymore. It’s not like the food is that good anyway. And (surprise! Surprise!) my brothers can actually cook so they make desserts like puddings or marble cake and stuff, which are actually edible. By human beings.

Then: Mother nags.
Now: Mother still nag. But at the same time my mother and I have lots of conversations. And it's pretty cool talking to her. When I was much younger almost always we only have 'conversations' when I did something terribly wrong. And she did most of the talking, which is similar to nagging albeit on a slower pace.

So there, the turn-ons and turn-offs of growing up, from the breaking fast’s point of view. I guess I preferred being a kid when it comes to breaking fast. You simply ask for food and get them. And you can be immature and not feel guilty. And you look forward to doing it (breaking fast, I mean) whereas now it’s just like another process. But we just have to be thankful to God for whatever is given to us. Nowadays I observe my nephews and nieces whenever they're around when breaking fast -an activity which I enjoy- and remember the times long gone.

We just have to be thankful and cherish every moment...

case of the brilliant brother

I've a brother in particular who's a brilliant student. He got straight As for his exam. One of his friends, who happens to be from another ethnic group got somewhat similar results as my brother did. That particular friend received a thousand bucks from a minister of the same ethnic group as his. Well, good for him. A few of my brother's other friends, from yet another ethnic group, received a few thousand bucks from some race-exclusive societies; their exam results being on par with my brother. Since my brother received nothing of sorts, I gave him a thousand bucks and said something like; "you do your job, I'll do mine."

What am I?
A. A minister
B. A society

Take your pick.

beware the vehiclists

There are people who consider the other sex inferior. We call such people sexists.

There are people who consider those from other ethnic backgrounds inferior. We call such people racists.

People who discriminate people based on age are called ageists (I just discovered this, while I was down with dengue).

I'd like to introduce a new term; vehiclists.

So what's a vehiclist, really? What are they like? Well, if you've never been on a bike and you think all motorcyclists are idiots, you are it; people who discriminate people based on vehicles (that they use). But do these people exist, for real? Newsflash: of course they do (end of Newsflash). Some of them are even relatives to yours truly.

For people who are constantly on a bike (a moving one, that is), they must've encountered this situation at least once; (Case 1:) you're on the main road (on a moving bike) and there's a vehicle on a junction in front of you wanting to enter the main road (which is your route) from where they were and they just do that, without letting you pass first. The vehicle entered your route just like that. Question: if you were driving something else (other than a bike), would they do that?

..we motorcyclists are expendable aren't we? It's just not worth anybody's time to wait for a bike to pass is it?

Case 2: you go to a mall, the parking area for motorcyles are like, a light year away, the entrance fee of which are half of what other people are paying to park their cars. I mean, for the parking space of one car, you can accomodate at least four bikes can't you? furthermore the alleys between bikes' parking spaces are smaller. So for the same amount of space, loads more bikes than cars can be accomodated. In short; motorcyclists are ripped off everytime they park their bikes properly. And to think that most, if not all, happen to be in a much lower income bracket than their car-driving counterparts. And nothing has been said about this before. Ever.

Vehiclists say: never mind those motorcyclists. They won't complain. They are idiots.

These are just some of the scenarios that came across my mind at the time of writing. I doubt that I've presented a very strong case here. But I bet that if you think hard enough, whether or not you drive a bike, you'll be able to think of examples of vehiclists in action. But that is besides the point.

Lets just not forget that when road accidents happen, the likelihood of the casualty being a motorcyclist is much bigger than any other drivers. And there were lots of time that it was not our fault. Motorcyclists aren't idiots. They have a life. They have families. Some of them have blogs. Some of them even know a little bit of English. So the next time you're on the road, no matter what vehicle you're driving, DRIVE SAFE. And learn to respect other people. In short; stop being an asshole.

why it's not safe to save

Because the inflation rate is pretty damn high, that's why. It might even be higher than the interest rates offered by most banks. So what happens if you save money? You'll lose 'em. Not because they're lost but because the value will decrease. Here's how it works, I think: let's say you have 1K bucks and that amount of money can buy, say, a computer or whatever which happens to cost approximately 1K bucks also. But instead of buying it, you kept your money in a bank. In a month's time, with inflation rate at, say 2.8% and interest rate offered by your bank at 2.1%; the computer or whatever will cost 1028 bucks but you'll only have 1021 bucks. 7 bucks short. Go find a cheaper computer.

So is 'save your money' an ingenious advice at times like these? I doubt it (keeping your money under the pillow is a much idiotic way of dealing with the current situation). So to those who have the capacity and chance to say somethig about it, say something else. Don't say 'save.' Because I don't believe it's wise to do so.

I teach, therefore I am

Phew! The end of this week marks the end of my teaching for this semester. My students; Pre-U and high school, will be having their final exams shortly. It has been a rather hectic semester, my juggling between 2 teaching jobs and all, and I'm pretty much welcoming this break. I think anyone would. Because if you're anything like me you'd feel like you're in a sport or something that you loved doing; too much of it might burn you out. And I fear I might burn out.

You see, to me, teaching is something you have to do with AT LEAST SOME passion. There was this one episode of Boston Public where one of the teachers say that teachers won't get rich teaching (even if they're the best at what they do). If you've never watched Boston Public, well, let me tell you this; teachers WON'T get rich teaching (deja vu, anyone?). So if you're in a job not for the money, you have to like it a little bit don't you? Oh and by the way, it's a profession, not just a job.

Some of my Pre-U students are extremely quiet you wonder if you'd done something wrong. Some just can't stop talking amongst themselves you wonder if they hate the subject THAT much. Some paid so much attention they want to know every detail. But mostly, my Pre-U students are a blast. I think most young adults are. It's a pity I only get to teach one batch for two semesters. I like those who speak their mind the most. I find it so much fun to have a discussion and almost always it's a turn off to preach (I'm talking so you kids better SHADDAPP!). As much as I can, I treat them as adults. And it's such a joy when you get that acknowledging 'oh!' (as-in; oh! I didn't know this previously, now I do) every now and then from them. Because of this 'oh!', I'll continue to teach, even if they paid me only half of what they're paying me now, which ain't that much anyway.

I only started teaching the high school kids about a couple of months ago. They are underprivileged kids from rural areas brought to the capitol to get a chance for better education. Mostly it's hard for them to pay attention in class, being young and all. Some of them only started going to school at 15 after a few years 'break'. Before I met the kids one of the teachers there told me; the kids' IQ isn't something to shout about so I have to be very patient with them. Me being the stupid, naive romantic, I think I'll stay teaching them for as long as I'm wanted as their teacher. I find it much more interesting if I can see them through to further their studies rather than a bunch of already smart urban kids anyway. And coming from a large family myself I kinda enjoy watching them grow. And anybody would enjoy watching them smile. These kids have the most sincere smiles because they've endured lots of hardships they weren't trained to smile. They just do it.

I have to admit teaching the high school kids isn't an easy feat. I have to prepare my own syllabus, I get paid only twenty bucks per hour and most of the time it's very hard to explain things to them using my experience in life because theirs are just different. If I teach some rich kids the pay will roughly be sixty bucks per hour, the syllabus and even written exercises are prepared for me in advance, and hey, if I'm crappy, they always have the internet. I have to admit, therefore, that I'm falling in love with the kids. I love them even if they can't pay attention in class, and I love them even if they played with my bike, which I hate. I love them just the way they are. So, monkeys, you have me as one of your teachers whether you like it or not.

So there, that was what I endured and felt for the last couple of months. How much do I like this thing? once I got a medical leave for 3 days because of high fever. I took 2 days off and spent the other one teaching. After the exams I'll be having these again on a regular basis. And so now I'm welcoming (and rightfully think I deserve) the break. Next semester, I'll be better. So monkeys, be ready!! Hehe.