Parenting

Last weekend, I did my fair share of babysitting a 1 year old toddler. First day was great fun, as he was quiet up to a point i kept checking his temperature, but over all, it was a good experience. He ate whatever I fed him, walked with me while holding my hands, Surprisingly excellent display of table manners and hugged me when he was sleepy for me to cuddle him to sleep. I was expecting the howling and bawling and kicks while doing the baby-breakdance all over the floor. Surprisingly, it was a breeze and I was silently thinking, hey, I can do this too. I could be a mom...

And then this little angel became a little terror. When his mom came back from work, the whimpering started. First I thought he was being manja, then the incessant need for attention kicked in. Mommy couldn't go to the bathroom for 1 minute, Mommy couldn't sit down without him climbing up her as if she was a tree. Mommy couldn't heat up his porridge, without him clutching onto her legs, scratching her and bawling non stop. Soon the crying became screaming and then it proceeded to become hysterical howling. The whole act of holding his breath until he turned purple and screaming like he was possessed. All mommy could do was attempt to hug him, and say " it's okay it's okay, don't cry"


I've never been so scared of parenthood than I have been over the weekend. It is a wonder how we're all healthy adults now and that our parents didnt just throw us in a ditch. Then again, it boils down to the whole nature versus nurture theory. Do your kids become spoilt brats and evolve into a problem child because of his genetic predisposition or was it really your fault to begin with.

As much as Developmental psychology talks about the different parenting methods which do not require the use of anger, force, or physical discipline. I beg to differ. My mom always said that children are like a pot of bonsai. In order for them to turn out pretty and healthy, you have to prod them and bend their will. After all, it's always the parents who knows best. While i never thought that i would ever agree to my mom's opinion, Pah! she knows best? Maybe there's some truth in it afterall.

Being a parent is probably the biggest test of mankind. It's not easy after all to discipline someone you love and in return be hated and resented. Most parents vie with each another to gain their kid's brownie points. And at some point, their patience and nurturing skills turn into over indulgence.

I believe there's nothing a good spank couldn't cure. Perhaps, I'm not meant to be a parent...

Fat girls

I was singing along to a Colby O'Donis song while on my way to work today without realizing that I knew the lyrics by hard. Just as I was wondering how the lyrics retained in my brain matter, I realized the incriminating words that typically make people like me, obsessed about weight.

It's a women's thing, whenever anything goes wrong, blame it on the fats, blame it on the way you look, or the few extra holiday pounds that you've gained. It's never about the self and the character or the attitude. For most women, we blame it on our physique. But ahh, how can we not? With all the super models as women ambassadors for any product made FOR women, its only normal that we compare ourselves to them. If models can make sanitary pads look sexy, can you really blame us for always wanting to look like them? Every single ad that is made for women, is anchored by a lean tall, or petite size zero well toned model. What happened to the average plain janes around. There is some truth in it after all, that fat girls don't get loved.

And then there are the songs, where bodily images are constantly being stuffed into our faces. Where men are singing about being in love with a women's "fit" body, instead of loving a woman's soul. No one talks about the pretty faces, or the soulful eyes behind the thick framed glasses. Truth is, in real life, Betty Suarez would not be hired by a fashion publishing company, not even as the pantry lady.

This brings back painful childhood memories when I was a plump kid. I remember discovering my feelings for the other sex as early as 13 years old. But i never dared to approach him because I was fat, and he was all that with awesome McDreamy hair. Eventually when we did start talking and became friends, I found him falling for me. No lah, I wasn't syiok sendiri. Girls always know. Especially at that tender age, if some boy wasn't into you, he wouldn't even be your hang-out-friend (unless a closeted gay). He would be the one throwing water balloons at you from the top of the stairs or trying to trip you when you walked past, if he wasn't remotely drooling or fantasizing over you.As much as men would deny at all cost, I'm pretty sure that in their lifetime, they have fallen for at least one fat girl and have been too embarassed to admit it, let alone to pursue it. High school can be a dark and cruel place after all.

So back to my McDreamy, we started hanging out alot. He being in the next class, he would scoot over in between breaks to ask me how my day was. It didn't take long until envious fat/loser/nerdy girls started being envious of me, and hot skimpy skirt girls started teasing us out of malice. Soon enough, we started to grow apart. All the teasing made me embbarassed, but not as embarrassed as he would have been. He was the hot jock and instead of hanging around sluty hot schoolgirls, he was spending all his time with me. Long story short, he told me he couldn't be friends with me because people were talking.WTF.. But yeah, me heart broken, him not being any less miserable, we disowned our blooming friendship because I was fat.

Over the years, I thought long and hard over this. Yes i''ve gotten over him 15 years ago. But I always wondered if it was me, or really just my weight. It seemed to verify my theory eventually when he bumped into me 2 years after I was in college, and his first words were "You look great! Hey maybe we should exchange numbers". I remember the hurt floating back and the anger suffocating me, the screaming and I eventually stomped off leaving him dumbfounded.

Moral of story is, its a harsh world out there. Very few people fall in love with you. They fall in love with the tangible side of you, your looks, your weight. Thats why people find it hard to find soul mates. If you are not that skinny lanky lass, chances are you're getting left-overs. Harsh, but nothing but the truth..

Never.. New word for me...

There is one thing that I definitely am, rebellious.... Has been, and always will be..

Today has been slightly disappointing. While i was looking forward to a happy yay day-since i am hardly back home, it was spoiled by the very topic of, when am I finally going to tie the knot.

Truthfully, i have never thought of it as something that i would plan for. Anyone who knows me, i dare say, knows I am a sucker for unexpected surprises. I have always been rebellious as a kid. I remember my conversations with my mom during my teenage years consisting of the familiar "you are ruining my life!" yells followed by an intuitive duck of my face behind my hands in case a rounding slap came my way. I knew those 5 words irritated the shit out of my mom, and whether or not there was a context in the argument or possibility of her actually ruining my life, I just liked ending my fights with that sentence, simply because I knew it got her temples twitching uncontrollably.

These days, The same way goes for people who ask me when am I tying the knot. Seriously, what age are they living in, primitive souls... People don't plan these days. They either get knocked up, or get pleasantly surprised by a proposal. So these days, my teenage rebellious streak has crept up on me once again. I find that, the easiest way of warding these extremely overly concerned "kepohs" when they "pop" the rehearsed question, is by saying "NEVER". I find some victory in the disgruntled look on their faces when i repeat myself over and over again with the word "never" when they try to pry further as to why i would say that I don't ever want to get married. In a way, I'm reliving the sardonic satisfaction of pissing my mother off.

But if any of you kepohs are reading this post, this is the final time you'll hear me say this.

"Yes i do want to get married one day. Yes I want to have kids. Yes I want a family. Yes I think it would be cool to be someone's wife and a mother one day. No we're not married yet not because we're having problems. No I do not have second thoughts about him. Yes, he is the one."

But should you repeat that "when are you getting married?" question again any time in the future, my answer will be a defiant "NEVER" just to piss the shit out of you just the way you piss the shit out of me every time you ask me the mind numbing repetitive good for nothing question..

Comprendo??

Hell Ride back home....

It's been more than a year since i took the bus back to JB my hometown. Truthfully, i can't recall when was the last i was stuck in stinky Puduraya, lugging my bags, banging into people who are in my way, and cursing and swearing over the fumes that make me want to hurl.

This time, i decided to take the bus home. Before i went to buy tickets, i felt this familiar twist in my guts, of just walking into the devil's crypt to buy my tickets. A bigger contraction kept pounding at the bottom of my guts thinking of spending 5 hours, if I'm lucky on a bus back to JB.

To my surprise, when i reached Puduraya, the entire area was quiet and traffic was at a NON-standstill. Surprise surprise.. And i was even more surprised when i saw the stripped down almost demolished building of Puduraya. Panic hit me as i knew i had to get back to jb somehow, where to buy the tickets, i was at a complete lost. I made a few phone calls and realised that i had to go all the way to Bukit Jalil to get my tickets as that was the new bus stop.

Being the typical stubborn person that I am, I decided to take my chances at another bus station at Duta. Managed to get my tickets, did a jiggle and went home to wait for my bus the next day.

Next day......

SO, was bus was scheduled for 4pm, but little that i knew, my bus was travelling from Penang and making a Pit stop at Duta to pick me up. It finally arrived at 4.30, it finally moved at 5.00pm and it made another pit stop at Bukit Jalil, where i innitially had to take a bus from. Defeats the purpose of going to Duta in the first place. We then stopped at Seremban, Yong Peng, Machap and some God forsaken town to pick up some passengers and drop off some others.

Long story short, my bus ride to JB took me 7 hours 6 minutes. Throughout the journey, I had to pretend to sleep to avoid glances from the "men" surrounding me, and make sure I clutch tight to my bags in case any riff raffs decides to rob me. By the time I arrived, I was too late to treat my dad for his Birthday dinner, I was tired and sleepy, and i spent the entire night resenting the 7 hours i wasted due to my stupidity and effort of being conscientious ...

Last bus ride i'll ever take, Ironically, the bus was called Super Nice... No Shit Sherlock!

Ray of Hope..Weeps in Joy..Drama

Mom: Hmm, Haven't you been eating? Still smoking is it?

ME: Huh? why would you say so

Mom: You look sickly since i saw you last Chinese New year. You sure you're not on drugs?

ME: snickers and broad broad smile... :D

See, my mom has always had an issue with my weight in a funny way. I was a huge kid, so when i lost all that weight ( 17 kgs), being a typical hokkien chinese mom, she immediately jumped to conclusions, it had to be drugs. Not that i am blowing my own trumpet, but thats one road i never traveled or peeked into. Yes i've been a stupid teen before. Yes i've binged drink, still smoke, experimented the happy leaf before, but thats as far as i have gone and will go. Too many friends, too many rotting lives, just one too many, hence my strong stand in saying no to recreational drugs.

But in odd twisted way, my mom's suspicion of me being on drugs kinds of sends me on a high. Yea yea, perhaps I like the attention, but most importantly, it means i am still thin. When i came back during Christmas last year, for the first time in 4 years, my mum didn't ask me if i was on drugs. I was offended. Chinese New Year? Nadah! Even more offended..

My mom thought i was fat enough to not be on drugs.. blast!

So today when my mom carefully jabbed around about my weight, you can imagine the joy. Yes! I did look a wee bit thinner then after all!

Sorry mom, but you're the only one who can give me a clear indicator of how much i actually weigh.. Thank you for thinking i am back on the wagon. You certainly made my day! I'm sorry you are back to worrying now...

Huhuhuhu.. 5 more kgs to go..

Blah

Some people say that PMS (Pre Menstrual Syndrome) makes you irrational and do things that you would never do on a normal given day..

I disagree, I say it makes you do what your subconscious has been longing to, but never had the guts to do it on any given rational day...

Boy and Girl Matters

Relationship woes never seem to end, for any couple, for anyone. Whether you are single and looking, single and over and done with, in a relationship, waiting to get out of the relationship, not sure if you want to get out of the relationship; relationship woes remains that steadfast unfaltering part of your daily dilemmas.

So why do we still insist on having a relationship? Isn't companionship all that we seek for? Get a dog, a cat, adopt a baby, make more friends, but alas... human nature, we always crave for more than we already have..adventure, deceit, lies and bumbling through the storm always makes life more interesting....Painful, but a story to tell..

I guess the only thing i can never understand is the reason why people stay in abusive relationships. And in that I don't mean relationships that a physically abusive by nature. But relationships that screw with their minds, robs them of dignity, and makes them feel like, i quote, "The pus that infects the mucus that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond's scum".

While some stay for security reasons, and others stay for a ridiculous dream of a better tomorrow, the reasons are always the same. No no, Not because they love the other or that the abusive half is conniving enough to make them stay. It is always the tragic melodrama they live,breathe and would willingly die for, because God forbid that they may have a normal boring life like everyone else. And it's not because they don't "See" the "abusive" nature of their relationship, they relinquish and thrive on it. People who stay in abusive relationships are not stupid, they are just bordering self destructive.

While many might say, what do i know? Isn't my relationship a bed of roses? Well wrong you are. While now i have a relationship that might be close to what I consider perfect, enough drama, enough cynicism and just enough romanticism, I've been through that. The feeling of needing the person although he may be physically and mentally abusive. The feeling of wanting to run away from it, but not being entirely sure I would be able to function without it. And it's the relationship, that status that people often cannot let go off, not the OTHER person. So see, it doesn't boil down to a love that cannot be thrown away. It is more of an accustomed lifestyle many find it hard to change. Who is going to banter them with emotional blackmails and cold wars once the relationship ends? Cold wars are better than no wars. Being alone, can be a feat after all.

So what sort of help can be offered to people who enjoy being in the sticky situation? Well, from what i have come to learn, none....

While most psychologists or counsellors will shake their heads furiously at me and some might even throw me a look of disgust, I believe that the clarity of the mind is not something that can be cultivated, imposed upon, or nudged. It takes a lot of growing up, the readiness to snap out of denial, and sometimes an episode of psychotic jealousy to make someone realise, they are worth more than the price tag they have stuck on their forehead.

It's a painful process for a friend, any friend to watch. Especially when you have a myriad of them. But as a friend, you just stick by and wait for the day. And reserve your comments. That's something I have learnt...Shut the hell up, and stick by...Cz their men sure aren't going to be around for long...

Fussy Pot? certainly not!

I don't eat lamb. Nor do I eat mutton. I don't eat veal, venison, rabbits, foie gras. Only up till recently, did i decide to try my palette at pork and beef, although I'd still choose chicken over it any day anytime.

Well I'm not a spoilt brat nor am I a fussy pot. I am just an ounce more of a sentimental fool compared to many other people. Did i mention that I have a photographically vivid imagination as well? I like to know how my food looked like and felt like before it ended up being picked on by my fork. I'd like to know if it was bred for my consumption, or was it running free and living a life of an emperor before it was terminated.

I also refrain from eating animals I call cute or have childhood relations with. Goats per say, my mom's friend used to have a pet goat, which is primarily the reason why I've never ever tasted mutton or lamb in my life..

While many might say that I am an oddball or rather, a chauvinistic pharisee, the only defense that i have is that, i don't need to eat all that to survive. I have been doing good eating whatever i do, and I am not missing out on life just because i refuse to consume certain living beings just to send my palette on some gastronomical adventure.

Adventure can come in many other forms, it doesn't just have to begin and end with food...

Thomas Cup hopes flushed down the toilet...

So I'm watching Thomas Cup right now. I just watched two games being wrapped up and given willingly to our Chinese opponents. Through my groans and shouts and cursing and spit flying left right center towards the TV screen, I wonder, if I really had any right to comment, considering i can't even hit a shuttle right over the net. But it doesn't stop me from wondering, how could a country, whose national sport is Badminton, play horrendously for 18 consecutive years since our win in the 1992 Thomas Cup?

While we do have one excellent player, the rest, are less than so-so. A country who breathes and feeds on badminton for decades now, can only produce ONE talent? Really... It's a shame...We should never pick up a badminton racquet again.

What is it really? The fact that we do not have good coaches? Or Malaysian players do not train enough? Or is there a need to re-evaluate our training methods? Because whatever it is, it is definitely not the genes... I'm not assuming that Malaysians carry the super gene for badminton particularly. I'm saying that with our smaller asian frame, fast paced stamina challenging games like badminton and squash should be our forte.

Personally, I think it's all about the rigging of players. Where true talent is not appreciated or searched for. Playing for our country comes with a price. A price of who you know and who your father is and where you are borne. In Malaysia, for anything at all for that matter, talent is never searched for, it is always ALWAYS recommended.

Remember the Malaysian Football Dream Team which started out as a reality show where anonymous talents were put together and coached to form a football team? While they lost to the national team by one goal, the national team was on their heels the entire time. This only showed and proved that if a team which was put together in two weeks with lesser than 1 month's fitness training could make the national team sweat, the players of the National team did NOT deserve to even be part of the team.

I don't Malaysians are generally sports retards. I figured it's just the retards that are being chosen to represent our country.. Why can't anything be black and white in this blinking country?

Sigh...

Macaroons and Anti-Establishments

After 3 more batches of utterly failed attempts of baking macaroons, the current count stands at 13.... 13 failed attempts! 9 different recipe variations! 8 different temperatures! and 13 different outcomes! but none of which looked anything like a shell of a macaroon. People were complaining about not getting the "feet" for their macaroons (tiny jagged edges around the shells). Mine??? I'l be doing my flamingo dance if it would just stay hard and not flacid the moment i take it out of the oven.

SO yesterday, I played house with Bernard's friend's wife. While the two boys were shooting balls in the basement, I, the one who taught Bernard how to play snooker, was playing house, whipping eggs and measuring almonds n aging egg whites. All because i couldn't take the lying down of not being able to make a successful batch of macaroons. I mean seriously, HOW can it be possible???

So i slogged in the kitchen while his friend's wife was trying to decipher why my macaroons went all flacid and soggy once they were left to dry and waited like a maniac in front of the oven for every batch, hoping hard that "this" might be the batch that works. As both of us cracked our heads over the possibilities that lead to failure, bernard calls me from the basement and politely weasels his way into getting me to send a couple of cans of beer.

When i came right up, I sat down with "miss baker" and chatted for a bit. Halfway, i lost my train of concentration, as i was still obssessed over my macaroons. When my attention finally shifted back, she was already talking about living with her in laws, getting used to not being single, children and when to have them, and how to train your man to be submissive but in a counter-antagonistic way. And then, she started giving me advice about things to think about before tying the knot and a few other things even I'm too embarassed to mention.

My mind was screaming "Whoah lady, whatcha talking about?" I mean, I genuinely saw her good intentions and why she would think that we are alike, and she is one person i can gabble with non stop without awkward pauses. But thats where the similarity stops.

The fact is that, SHe is MARRIED, and I'M NOT. FULL STOP....

I don't really know if I can actually explain them into words, but our conversation was as if i was already or to be married, so i could share her trials and hopes and dreams.. But the point was, i just wanted to talk about why my macaroons died on me, all of them.. It was like a woman talking about the 9 months of pregnancy with me. I can't relate to that! I haven't been through that, so i really can't tell what kind of morning sickness is worse or whether piles or varicose veins suck.

I think alot of people just don't get me. They assume I'm alike just because I'm probably the same size, age, shape or own the same mental capacity as themselves. To each to their own, I for one, am peculiar as a martian. I am, in a nutshell, an anti for establishments.

Not that i think all establishments have are exploitative or founded on purely monetary gains, I just don't like establishments because there are rules and regulations, and I for one, cannot be bounded down. It's a gene thing, I swear.. If you are pro-establishments, then you are subjected to all the rites of rituals the establishments consider necessary to be a successful person.

I love planning for trips and holidays, but thats as far as the planning goes...

Maybe thats the reason I'm so addicted to making macaroons, because I keep failing.

Saved by Dessert!

A girl's night out was carefully planned over thursday and friday. We thought of the possibility of relieving some wild intoxicated sorority moments where the girls could just go out and paint the town red. Sigh.. Even the phrase "Painting the town red" sounds so yesterday..

So me and three of my girlfriends decided that it was time for us to go out and have a good time just with each another, once again. We talked over the possibly strategy club hopping throughout the street. On Friday night, we were giggling at the prospects of being young and perky once again and basking in sequins at the hottest joints.

SO we left to Changkat, a tad bit too early. See Miss K suggested that 10pm would be great. Big boo boo, as much as Miss K is hailed as "Changkat's Butterfly", she was either incredibly bad at giving advice, or remarkably brazen at expecting us to be just as non-punctual as herself. So we were stuck in Finnigans feasting over cider and oinks in blankets until "miss Popular" struts down the street with a prom dress ( just having finished a wedding dinner reception). That aside, we waltzed into the hottest shinny brand new club on the street, and i stiffled a yawn. So Miss K turns Miss Buburina and says, "I thought you gurls want to dance?" After watching us stand stiffly at the bar ordering a round of drinks. Miss Buburina exclaims in effort to project her voice louder than the deafening soul-less beats, "But there's no words to the music! HOw to dance?"

After a few awkward hip moving and head bobbling to the dry beats, we headed to another bar.

Second bar, rejected entry, had to pay RM40 cover charge. No we weren't that desperate. Hot chicks ALWAYS get in free and we weren't about to taint our image. At that point, Miss J points out the blissful prospect of natural occuring substance and Miss K jumps on the wagon right away, claiming its a "suredone". So we decide to hit another club, bumped in a few friends. Danced to some old tunes ( really,, old) and halfway, Miss J complains her "lemak feels itchy", signs of prolong couch potato-ing.

So we decide that it is time to leave the club and head for some good ole mother nature's treasure. But alas, news came where it was not going to be possible that night, Well, i wasn't really disappointed as it's not my thing, but Miss J looked as if the whole night was a waste. So we walked into Bar Italia for a night cap before we headed home, and stood transfixed at the pastry case. All of our eyes shone, as we proceeded to ordering a heavenly slice of Mille Crepe with Pistachio Gelato, Chocolate Salami, poached pears in red wine. We sat through our final moments of the girls night out, pigging out in mouth watering authentic dessert. And the Miss Buburina finally said what we all were thinking, "This was the best part of the night!"

So girls night out did not go anywhere close to what we planned. But the night still ended in a bitter sweet way. If there was one thing we felt, it was definitely not being younger, but being older and fitting in lesser into the juvenile crowd. It's time for us to trade out dancing shoes and tiny tube dresses for loose cotton kaftans.

Sadly... THIS, will officially be the last time i'd personally attempt to relieve my younger days again. I guess getting older is not all that scary, it only becomes scary when you keep measuring yourself up against your 20year old self. It shouldn't be embarrassing to reveal that a hot mug of hot chocolate while watching Glee is my thing now. That i would rather spend quality time with my loved ones in the privacy of our own homes, and that family dinners can be a party in it's own right. I would rather climb mountains and trek through jungles, screaming over leech bites than to stand aimlessly in a club not knowing what to do with my hands. People grow, people evolve, people phase out..

Cherry on top of the icing was however, when a few kids at Bar Italia wished us "Happy Mother's Day" as we walked out the door... Thanks to that wonderful slice of Mille crepe (layers of light crepe in creams of vanila which melts in your mouth), they avoided a whack from my bag on their very tiny head with very tiny brains.

How do we sleep at night?

I read an article once where a villager in Grik asked, "How do we sleep at night?"

His question was in regards to the threats and fear they lived in because Tigers roamed the area and preyed on their livestock. Saving ferocious carnivors have always been a disputed stand. See, as humans, though we know that we are NOT the weakest link, we are constantly trying too hard to protect ourselves from harm. If there is one creature on earth with the least amount of courage, it would be humans. We do not have the courage be responsible for our actions, and we certainly do not have the courage to fully admit to our faults. We lack the courage to tell them world that we can be ruthless, in fear that it would taint our public image, and we do not have the courage to live a less comfortable life in exchange of ensuring that other life forms lead a comfortable life. We do not have the courage to be entirely anything, whether to be entirely compassionate, or to be entirely sincere. We are therefore, the least courageous beings that walk this planet.

How does this have anything to do with the villagers who couldn't sleep at night? Well for starters, they started a farming area in the tiger's natural habitat. To be be further unfair, they left their livestocks running free jubilantly without borders and expected the tiger to watched and salivate without feeding his instinct when he is hungry. They went into the jungle setting snares to trap the tigers JUST IN CASE it would attack them one day the same way it attacked their fat and juicy livestock. And when there was a case of a tiger defending himself while being attacked, they instantaneously blamed the tiger squarely for threatening their safety.

Have you ever seen a grown tiger cry? Then maybe you should watch this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6XbcyiH5eE&feature=related, How do We sleep at night? Knowing that we are probably the most conceited, irrational, selfish, uncompassionate, and conscienceless creatures God has ever created in the Universe?

Ewwwwwww

In need of a hair cut!!!!!!!!!!!

Enough said...

Boo Boo

Two days ago, Bernard and I spotted a dog running around the neighborhood. He has a collar so we assumed, he had one of those families who allowed him to run free. Still one thing bugged me, he was skin and bones. I wondered when his last meal was.

Around lunchtime, i drove past the area again, scanning the alleys and streets for him. No sign, good news i thought. He has gone home. And then at night, i went to get a drink to cool down my very very hot self, and lo and behold, "Skinny" was roaming around the area. Immediate instinct, get out of the car and touch the dog. When i approached him, he was all perky and jumpy but the moment i touched his licence plate hanging over his collar, he growled, as if "try remove it if you dare". But despite the fact of being a stranger to this dog's temperament, i knew one thing, he must be really hungry. I walked into a shop. Bought a HUGE piece of chicken and loads of rice. While i was mixing it with my bare hands, the softer side of him came out, He started whimpering and urging me to mis his food faster. He couldn't have finished the food any faster, In a blink, he wolfed down everything and even attempted in chewing up the newspaper i had set his food on.. (haha)

So yesterday, i was sent on a wild goose chase by MBPJ trying to obtain the address for the dog license. After half a day of being put on hold, transferring my calls to various departments, alot of voice raising and frustration, I finally got hold of the address the dog's license was registered under. Right after work, Bernard and me went hunting for the house. Found the owner and went to hunt for "Skinny" to bring him home.

It took us a good half and hour and ALOT of chicken to coax him into the car. We finally hauled him into the car and took him home. His owner was happy to see him, but apparently not so for 'Skinny'. While his owner dragged him back home, his tail was in between his legs and the thankful look i was looking for, was instead replaced by a beseeching look in his eyes. Had i done the wrong thing?

I have to admit i was rather disappointed with the reunion. While the owner dragged Skinny back to the house, I found out that he had only been missing for 4 days. His state of being malnourished, seemed to have stemmed from a longer period of time.

I found myself feeling more guilty than happy. Maybe Skinny ran away because of hunger or being mistreated. Maybe I brought him back to hell. Beats me.

I may have made a boo boo. And I hope to God that if i was wrong to decide that home was the best place for him, that he will make an escape again. If i ever see him on the streets again, I'l know better than to send him home...

I'm sorry Skinny.

The Calling.

I met a friend recently and he said to me, "eh, wildlife pulak, you NGO people don't fly far from your flock huh? But isn't it a big world of difference? Humanity and wildlife?"

It's a mind boggling question in many aspects. The only one thing i clarify to people is that, i have this incessant need to make a difference in someone's life. Be it a human being, an animal or a plant.

Many people think that working with an NGO is an easy going lifestyle. You wake up whenever you want, go to work if you feel like it, and danggle your legs in honey while waiting for that monthly check. Well, here's one thing i can tell you for sure. While there are some allowance in terms of work hours, there's is nothing more stressful that being that odd number who's for a change the rest of the world ain't that keen on. There is nothing more stressful than anticipating failure and still striving for a ray of success and being surprised everytime an effort takes off in a positive light. There is nothing more stressful than the personal drive to work into wee hours without the motivation of overtime pay because your extra minutes determines how someone else's fate to live or die.

While my cause is now for the wildlife, I am far from surprised to where i ended up. It's not surprising that a hopeless animal lover like myself has ended up working for what i love and what i have always been passionate about. Humanitarian work was nurtured and embeeded into my soul. Wildlife? It's an instinct to me..