Oxymoron In The Tropics

When people talk about 'the walking wounded', they normally think of soldiers returning from a battlefield.  I usually think of a war poem I studied in university... Wilfred Owen's 'Dulce Et Decorum Est'.  Oh man, that was such a gory poem.  I could actually hear the sounds of the wounds... viscera spilling out into the open where it was never meant to be... But today I am thinking of different 'walking wounded'.  In my many years of navigating the morass of relationships, I have been continually astonished by the level of woundedness I have encountered in people I meet.  They walk upright and smile when they would and sleep when they should... but they carry such deep injuries within.  I almost wish they had physical injuries instead... at least these injuries would be exposed to the air and dried sooner or later.  But emotional and mental injuries can live forever within psyches.  Like an abscess, they sit inert but causing pain.  And these wounds continue...

It seems to me that I am meeting more and more young people from broken lives or families.  I'm wondering if all this while, there have always been broken families and lives everywhere or has the world gotten worse? Yet these young people still fight on to find meaning and stability in their lives.  They still laugh and smile with their friends and classmates, never showing how much they are bleeding inside. I suppose there is no point in railing against a cruel or unjust world... because they cannot change the outside elements or factors. They can only change how they respond to their experiences. So far, the majority I meet have shown admirable resilience... although a few have the tendency to snarl and snap when people accidentally touch on sensitive topics. What I do notice is how all of them find their anchor in God.

It's been 23 years since I first stepped into a school as a teacher and I haven't lost the fascinated feeling I get when I'm at work. The feeling of sometimes being awestruck in silence when I watch my students... To me, each of them are raw works of art... potential masterpieces. They themselves are the artists and they hold their own palettes and brushes. Yes, there are times I feel like screaming in frustration ... or like grabbing one by the shoulders and shaking him or her awake from a dreamfog.  A lot of such times... but isn't a masterpiece usually born of frenzied energy and angst? And now I teach pre university students... it seems like ALL of them are brimming with angst.  I used to feel like I was the one holding the brush and that I HAD to do this or do that... but I have come to realise that these masterpieces-in-the-making need to make their own decisions of where the brushstrokes need to go and how much paint to use and when to apply the colours... ...

Last year the admin thought it a great idea for me to be put in charge of the school magazine. Wow. Gee. Hooray. So I got to work. I kinda made a mash of the committee meetings... LOL, there were none! With teachers anyway. But plenty of gatherings with my editorial board. Plenty of pizza too. Went through a steep learning curve, learned how to use software (that I won't mention as I can't even afford to breathe on the CD box) and brushed off dust from old skills in design. I may prefer to dress simply and sometimes monochromatic but I know what looks good on a cover. I even dragged in an old friend Sufri into designing the cover (lucky thing he's school alumni). Well, Bornean 2013 is done and I'll hold the finished product in my grubby hands today... yay!  I consider it my first draft. Bornean 2014 will be a groundbreaker. Can't wait... :-)

I was looking for some info in my blog this morning when I noticed the number of posts I'd been making the last few years. Wow, only two last year and two the year before that. Heh heh. It's a sure sign that I'm in a happy place. Angst is a great trigger for prose... no wonder the most prolific writers tend to be the ones struggling with lots of personal grief. Well, to be fair, I love to write whatever my personal feelings may be at any given time. It's just that I've been writing more on my other blog. I'm very happy with my career at the moment because I'm where I should be.. in school. Any school will do... as long as there are students in it and I get to teach English.

FFacebook poses a special problem for teachers... from my point of view.  The advantages are many and multifarious but so are the diadvantages. As usual, the most nagging headache would be TMI or in full, Too Much Information.  Especially information about personal things.  Information is always good unless interpreted in a way not expected or not wanted.  As a teacher, I most especially do NOT want this, when it comes to students. Allow me to illustrate.  And I shall use the example best known to myself : Me. By default, I tend to be relaxed, sometimes flippant, almost jolly most times :).  But I knew I couldn't be 'relaxed, flippant, jolly' at work.  It was practically an imperative at my first posting : SM La Salle.  The boys in La Salle were a motley bunch; mostly rambunctious, mostly interested in earning some certification but mostly in need of rigid supervision and monitoring.  You can't monitor boys very effectively with only sm...

Yes, I should be grateful I'm overworked.  Because that means... ... I have work to do.  ... someone wants to give me work to do. ... I have a job. ... I have a salary. ... I am solvent. ... I have financial independence. Today was pay day :) Thank you, God, for overworking me!

The clock is ticking and soon it will be 16th May 2010... Teacher's Day!  Happy Teacher's Day to me! I was being sarcastic.  That is because I'm sick (LITERALLY) and tired from too many hours sitting in front of the laptop and too little time spent doing things that are good for my health, such as exercising, watching movies, playing with my son and keeping away from laptop screen radiation. The good doctor has noticed that I fall sick on predictable months and I've connected all the months with either preparation frenzies or report deadlines.  He has also reminded me that 'people can only do so much' and 'you're not as young as you used to be'.  Meaning he doesn't want to prescribe me too many antibiotics and such. Sigh... You know, I truly truly understand now why so many teachers choose to reject admin posts and remain 'KUPs'.

Income tax returns and I haven't been on good terms for the past ten years. It all began in 2000 with a letter from the LHDN office in Kuala Lumpur demanding money.  From statements, the letters steadily degenerated into reminders and then thinly-veiled threats.  So, like any dutiful citizen, I trotted off to the LHDN office in Bandaran Berjaya (the old office) and tried to pay.  Lo and behold, the counter staff refused to accept my money.  They kept insisting that I didn't owe them any money.  I told them that the income tax payments were for my account when I was unmarried.  However they'd deleted that account.  And under my new account, I had no debts.  So I went into a small room where an officer looked at my file and then told me to go home.  Six months later, I got another letter from Kuala Lumpur, telling me that I still hadn't paid (no kidding???) and that I was in danger of losing my limbs.  Hmm, I'm kidding about the latter...

... you have so much work to do that you forget mealtimes. ... you have so much data to compile that you compile more than you analyse. ....you have so many emails to download that you forget which folder you put them in. ....you eat drink breathe live your work till you can't even blog! &*^%$#%&**&@&%^$!!!!!!

One analogy I like to use in handling situations in my life is DOORS. You know, the very cliched 'doors close, doors open' and the 'opportunity knocks, so open the door..' Two days ago, I went to see an officer in a section that I was hoping would be able to 'help' me. Close friends know what I"m referring to. After an hour of discussion, I left his room with mixed feelings. Let's just say, I am now looking at three doors. Bronze door, glass door and polished wood door. All these doors open to bright futures....but I would like to go through the bronze door...and the glass door is also not bad. But suddenly both seem to be shut fast. And it seems as if it's only the polished wood door that is open for me...sigh...

Today I feel heavy-hearted... but at the same time, I'm asking myself why I bother to FEEL anything. I've been doing a lot of things lately and some of it isn't what I can call my 'core business'. But I do it anyway...cos someone has to do it, right? I don't ask for anything in return as I'm 'pulling one for the team'. I'm deliberately keeping this vague. So if you don't get it, never mind... I'm just letting off steam. No matter what I do, it's just never good enough for SOMEONE. One may ask, why do you care? I ask myself that too. Maybe because most of the benefit goes to that someone??? :P While I don't ask for rewards, neither do I ask for brickbats. I think that is too much.

Once upon a time, I stood at a fork in my life.  Should I walk down the 'safe' road or should I try the path that looked thorny and rocky?  Shades of Robert Frost....:)  Safe road meant safe heart, minimal problems and serene life.  No fears, no worries.  Thorny path meant possible hurt and potential flame out. Plenty of angst and lots of 'wasted' energy.  But I thought that if I continued down that safe road, I'd always think of 'what if'.  What if I took that thorny path and never regretted it?  What if things turned out well for me?  Wasn't the potential happiness worth the risk? And so I took that fateful first step down 'the path less travelled by'.  Did I feel hurt?  Did I 'waste' time and energy in upset and anger?  Yes, yes and yes... but just as I experienced wrenching lows, I also felt over-arching joy.  And I learned something about myself.  When I had felt the bitter of pain and disappointment, I learned to appreciate deeply ...

A darling friend asked in mournful tones,"Did he ever really care for me?  Did he ever really love me?" Ah yes, another broken heart.  I imagine the pain is like a piece of glass shattering, all the shards flying, ripping, cutting, slashing... rebounding upon itself and tearing new wounds over and over again... you may even feel as if you'll never be whole again, as if the pieces can never come together again...  A painful story repeated , all over the world, throughout the centuries.... crossing all boundaries; skin colour, castes, ....   It's such a common story, yet awful in its freshness and its totality to the sufferer. After so many years listening to other friends, handling my own little 'breakages' and drinking so many mugs of Nescafe ( panacea for all ills! ), I have learned that there is no fixing a broken heart.  The best one can do is to mourn the loss of dreams & hopes, cry a little (or a lot!), drink lots of coffee (or whatever) and rememb...

This is sung by Gary Jules... :(

Sometimes I feel fed up. Sometimes I feel like I want to shout at the world. Why must I be happy all the time? Why must I be cheerful all the time? Don't I have the right to get angry sometimes? Can't I sulk and pout and say "Enough!" Why can't I shut the door sometimes and ....sink into a depression? ....wallow in a pool of misery? ....brood in my wretchedness? Is it a crime? Is it something I'm not allowed to do? You say,"NO, you of all people cannot be depressed!" But why why why...??? I WANT to be depressed... I have the RIGHT to be depressed. Just for a short while. *&%&@*

It's my second day in the new job and I'm dog-tired. First day : Meeting with KPM and JPN officers from 8 in the morning till 5 in the evening.  I only left around 5.45 because I was getting info about my scope of duties.  Spent the night preparing 22 files and burning 22 CDs for Tuesday meeting. Second day : Meeting with secondary school senior assistants and data officers (8.30 to 10.30 am).  Internal meeting to plan the year's projects from 3 pm to 4.30 pm.  Spent one hour in my room preparing files for Wednesday's meeting.  EO asked if I was informed that I was involved in the function on Thursday night (big VIP's welcome).  I just smiled weakly at her over my armful of files, CDs, LCD projector, laptop and purse. Am sitting at the PC right now wrangling two CD burners. Third Day Plan : 8.30 - 10.30 am : meeting with primary school senior assistants and data officers (location : Inanam) 8.30 am            : meeting to plan Thursday night's function (locati...