two-cents 'worth'(?)

yesterday when i was indulging in the therapeutic diversion of surfing the net, i came across an article titled 'well meaning meddlers - how to deal with them'. you can read it if interested at 

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/07/23/lw.meddlers/index.html?iref=nextin

anyways, heres an extract:

"as the mother of a toddler, stephanie delger has learned how to pick her battles. 

that's why during a trip to the grocery store a few months ago, the 25-year-old freelance writer decided to give her son joshua a cookie when she sensed a tantrum coming on. 

but as it turned out, he wasn't the only one she would butt heads with that day.

delger happened to be sharing the aisle with a woman of around 60, who watched as joshua grew cranky and attempted to stand up in the cart. when delger mollified him with a cookie, she offered some unsolicited advice. 

'she  started lecturing me and telling me i shouldn't give in to tantrums and that i should have taken him outside and spanked him.' delger says.

then the woman did the unthinkable: she took the cookie away from joshua, who was only 14 months old at that time. 

'his little face just crumpled' says delger, who decided to give the woman some advice of her own. 'i told her [that her] behavior was completely out of line and that it was ridiculous. her advice was unnecessary and unappreciated.'

mother and son then left the scene, and joshua got a new cookie - and a balloon - as consolation."

(end of extract) 

different people might have different opinions on this - but i applaud the mum for telling off the lady. snatching a cookie from the kid is something i just cannot forgive. come on people, its a cookie we're talking about here!

but that aside, advice-givers are aplenty around us - and no matter what their background, they will morph into a career agent/marriage counsellor/pastor/childcare expert/banker as per the situation. and the best part of all - they believe their advice is the best to be had. 

so it is not surprising that they feel slighted - more like highly offended - when the person on the receiving end does not 'take' the advice seriously, let alone put it to use. 

to all well-meaning-meddlers out there - this is where you go wrong - you give away your life-enriching-nuggets-of-information - for free. 

set up a consultancy and slap on a fee for every minute you speak, save your breath and write it all down in a book and publish it, book a hall and hold a seminar - and the same advice will be taken much more seriously and you get to make some money in the process. (that is why lawyers and bankers are taken so seriously - they charge so much per hour that anything they say is taken seriously.) never fear about getting an audience - there are enough people who will spend to hear the same thing in different words. who knows, you may even be featured on oprah with dr. phil. 

this is the irony of life - people would trample over each other to get to a prada sale, but put all the goods out with a 'FREE' sign, and the same crowd would pick and choose, and then leave it all there.

there ain't no free lunches, 'cos no one wants a free one anyway!

p.s. this is not 'free' advice - if you do use it and make money, i hope you will have the decency to forward me the royalty cheque!

great minds think alike

an inspiration, but one unsung.

those close to me would know what it is. for the rest, read on.

there were a lot of thoughts that simmered within me, but words just wouldn't flow to express them all.

until i chanced upon the poem below. 

to the poet who wrote it, i thank you for the composition that has brought together many sentiments in a verse close to what i might have written. it is true - great minds do think alike.

The drink of Gods - by Sheikh Ansari Hanball Abd-al-Kadir, 1857

"OH COFFEE, you dispel the worries of the great, you point the way to those who have wandered from the path of knowledge. Coffee is the drink of the friends of God, and of His servants who seek wisdom.

"As coffee steeps in the cup it gives off a musky aroma and turns the colour of ink. No one can understand the truth until he drinks of its frothy goodness Those who condemn coffee are fools in the eyes of God.

"Coffee is the common man's gold, and like gold it brings to every man the feeling of luxury and nobility. Coffee differs from pure, gentle milk only in its taste and colour. Take time in your preparation of coffee and God will be with you and bless you and your table. Where coffee is served there is grace and splendour, friendship and happiness.

"All cares vanish as the coffee cup is raised to the lips. Coffee flows through your body as freely as your life's blood, refreshing all that it touches; look you at the youth and vigour of those who drink it. 

"Whoever tastes coffee will forever forswear the liquor of the grape. Oh drink of God's glory, your purity brings to man only well being and nobility." 

making it count

i recently got my first electricity/water supply bill in my new place. and it was very good to read that i didn't owe the electricity-and-water-people anything - nope, not a cent! whoo-hoo! 

how did this come to be? 

well, for one, the government is handing out some dole to help shoulder the burden of inflation through utilities subsidies. and since i have been extremely conservative in my zeal to reduce costs and save the earth - not using the aircon, switching off at the socket, yada yada - my bill was less than the sponsored amount thereby giving me a surplus.

still happy at the prospect of one less bill to cry over, i waltzed over the grocery store. and when i came to the end of the check-out (the horrible moment when you pay) - it suddenly hit me. 

to really benefit from utilities surplus, i should try and use up every single cent that i have extra. i should expend a lot more water and power - kinda following from the logic that the best benefit of a buffet is gained when you eat much more than what it cost you

but how long can i stand under the shower? and what's the point of keeping the lights and fan on when im not around? and given the media overload on saving the earth, its hard to revert to my wasteful-habits-days.

i so wish there was some way i could transfer the extra 'money' from my bill and use it to pay for other things - like my groceries, shoes, clothes, etc. but that will never happen, especially not in a country where welfare-ism is frowned upon (gently of course, with lots of advice on how giving you more help can actually make you worse off).

but thats o.k. tonight i will reward myself by turning on the aircon full-blast. and the fan. oh yeah, and plug in my laptop. maybe even leave the lights on in the living room - for my fish.  

'the' career

as a kid, i always used to wonder what my 'ideal' career would be. several things seemed fun back then. i didn't pursue any of the career paths. but for memory's sake, i have listed them below (and just in case, in a moment of moronic decision-making, i decide to take up one of them - i have included notes as to why they are not as great after all!):

1. sailor:

why: my dad worked on a ship. and it seemed so cool that he could visit almost every part of the world every few months - without forking out airfare. 

why not: your 'home' would be on top of your 'workplace'. you're on call 24/7. and forget pretending you cant hear the call - they will come and yank you out of your cabin. the only way out is to jump into the sea.   

2. sports commentator:

why: ringside seats for free (or even if you're not ringside, you get to watch the game from a room with hi-tech cameras that can 'see' the ball better than the players themselves), you can talk non-stop and no one minds. in fact, they pay you for it. 

why not: you need to actually know the ins-and-outs of the game, be well versed in the history of the players, and the history of the previous players as well, and a lot more history about previous games. phew!

3. paparazzi photographer:

why: you can be in the thick of all the action, chase the celebrities and snap their photograph. not everyone can wangle an invitation to the golden globes or oscars - but this way, you can confidently say - "i was this close to george clooney/angeline jolie/will smith/etc" 

why not: too much running around - and the otherwise sugar-sweet celebrities can be maniacs when their make-up is off and a camera is pointed at them. 

4. model:

why: i used to watch miss. universe, and it seemed too easy. all you gotto do is wear nice clothes and walk around. if you win, you get loads of freebies and a crown. 

why not: i love food - and am against dieting or exercise. i would probably fall down dead after the first day if forced into a regime that involves both. 

5. fire-woman:

why: its so cool! you can battle the raging flames, play with water, and even save some people in the process. 

why not: i am scared of lighting my kitchen stove flame sometimes - handling a building on fire can be, well, quite scary!

thanks mum - a story

life is never easy, or fair. and when you are 'picked out' to make a presentation before a room full of your peers, it's tough luck. almost like a punishment. 

she didn't want to do it, but there was no other go. when the order comes from higher up, you have to listen, prepare and hope for the best. 

the problem weighed on her mind when she headed home. all the way in the bus, it gnawed at her, making her normally bright eyes look troubled and withdrawn. everyone who saw her could see something was clearly wrong - the bus driver said a cheery 'hello', a man stood up to offer his seat, a lady gave her a special smile. 

she tried to smile back, made an effort to say 'thank you', but her lips seemed frozen. she was scared she could only squeak if she tried to string a few words together. she wanted to burst into tears. 

she finally reached home. sliding down on the comfortable couch felt good. having her mum coming over with a place of french fries felt better. mum always knew what to do to make even the worst day seem not-so-bad. 

she talked about her problem to her mother. not that her mum didn't know - but it felt good to talk about it. when she finished, her mum reached over and took her hand.  

"i know you will do much better than you think. you are the best there can ever be. this is just fear and panic - put it out of your mind and you will be fine."

"i wish you could be there, with me."

"just close your eyes and imagine me holding your hand. that should help." 

she smiled and nodded. it was worth a try. 

so it was the next morning. she fiddled with her pencil until it was time to stand up and walk over to the front. and as she covered the steps, she tried to feel her mum with her, right there, holding her hand. 

it was time to begin. she looked around the room. the rest of the class - a bunch of five-year-olds - looked back at her. some blinking, some curious.

here goes. she raised her voice slightly and began.

"for my show-and-tell today, i have brought a photograph of my pet..." 

an achievement

it is a feeling that comes when you suddenly realise that you have crossed a mark. when you make it beyond that line, without even realising it - and then suddenly out of the corner of the screen, the magic number beckons. 

i have crossed the formidable milestone of ten posts. this the eleventh. and i am looking forward to the next milestone. 

cheers to myself. pat, pat.

:p

an impending sign of doom

i am starting to fear that the worst may just come to pass. that my hair will fall out, and not grow back fast enough to replenish the loss.

i know that speculating the worst is not a good thing. but it can be quite scary when i wash my hair and find the drain clogged by a lot more strands than before. going by common sense, it takes longer for a hair to grow that it does to just fall out - so even with my terrible math abilities, it seems like it is not a good sign. 

the feeling of something-bad-may-just-come-to-be gets worse when i visit my relatives, and my aunt greets me with, "you have less hair than before". talk about honesty (leave aside courtesy and politeness).

somehow, hair loss seems to be so much more easily handled by men. some look more dignified with a half-head of hair, still others just go 'cool' and shave it all off. i don't think either option would suit me. 

no, sticking needles in my head to rekindle the blood flow and stimulate the cells is not something i desire. neither do i want to soak the remaining strands in lotions with suspect chemicals. 

but hope seems to be at hand. i read a book where a woman suffered terrible hair loss, tried everything and failed; and then got her hair growth back to normal after she paid a visit to the city of amritsar in north india - a land populated by men and women who revere their hair to the extent that they wont cut it (some believe they are descendants of samson, the mythical hero whose strength was contained in his hair).

maybe i should plan my next holiday with amritsar in mind.

moonstones for four dollars - a story

guilt is an ugly feeling, especially when you know it will rear its head again - through the eyes and words of the person whom you have hurt. more than guilt, though, he wouldn't be able to bear the sudden reddening of her cheeks and silent tears when he would break the news to her. 

he had lost her moonstone ring. 

as always, it was something that never should happened. she had taken it off to write something, and then left it behind on his office table. he had remembered to slip it into his pocket. but somewhere along the way, while taking out his wallet, it must have fallen out onto the road. he had retraced his steps but it could not be found. it would have been found by some one. finders keepers. 

as he walked aimlessly absorbed in his thoughts, the harsh glare of the open, bright bulbs from a pushcart stall hit his face. serendipity. it was selling imitations of semi-precious stones in bracelets, chains, prayer beads - and rings. he felt himself drawn to it.

the short old man was sitting behind the stall, eating from an instant-noodles-cup. the man looked up, nodded, and went back to eating. 

he looked among the rings. if there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his memory - it was like a photographer's plate. and he had seen the ring many times over, each time he kissed her fingers.  

he held up a ring with a whitish stone - similar to the moonstone ring he had lost and asked the old man to show him any more pieces of the same kind. the man looked irritated but obliged. he muttered a prayer under his breath. the old man was probably mumbling a curse. 

and there was one. so close in colour and design that it was sure to fool the eye. he was ecstatic but took care not to show it - it would be hard to bargain if the old man knew he wanted it so badly. 

"how much?"

"six."

"too much, four?"

"five."

"four."

the old man muttered something he couldn't catch, wagged his hands, but agreed to the deal. 

he knocked on her door with a vigour he had never had before. she opened and stepped out - her parents were asleep. he held out the ring. she had left it behind, and he brought it along to give it to her. he knew how much she liked it. he didn't want her to miss it. 

that night, he fell asleep with a smile. he would save and buy her a real moonstone ring. soon. 

she fingered the ring with a smile. her old ring had a chip on it at the back. a small one, that only she knew. this one looked new. but it didn't matter. it was so close to the old one. she had bought it at some small roadside shop as a memory of a ring she had admired on her grandmother. what had the old one cost - four dollars?

but for beauty's sake

imagine lying back on a chair like the one in your dentist's clinic. the delicate skin on your eyelid is pulled down and stretched. another point on the forehead above the eyebrow is pulled the opposite way so that the area of epidermis (*= skin) is taut. now, a sliver of harsh thread is pulled across the eyebrow, ripping the hair from its roots!

ouch! 

did that sound like a torture scene from a psycho thriller? it was actually just a very dramatic and over exaggerated description of what happens when i go for threading to shape my eyebrows. and no, it is not all as bad as i describe - and it leaves me with nice, arched eyebrows that highlights my eyes (a very rational person once pointed my eyes are quite small, so it doesn't matter - i refused to heed the observation).

but back on track, i often wonder over just how much more willing people have become to undergo procedures that are not exactly a song by the beach - to enhance/alter their looks just that much more. and they are willing to put up regimens worse than those even within the israeli army.

i remember an episode from a make-over series. there was a lady with bandages on her face after major surgery, simultaneously put on a cabbages-and-water diet to lose weight, and kept away in some isolated appartment. day-in-day-out for about six week. 

at the end of it all, she was extremely happy with her new found beauty, and made the whole process seem matter-of-fact - and something we all should be doing - just like getting a haircut. 

i prefer threading. 

the price of nirvana

i just came across a statement - it is 'said' or rumoured more like - that burma's/myanmar's famous shwedagon pagoda has more gold on it than it kept in the bank of england's vaults. i haven't seen either - the pagoda or the vaults - so i cant comment on the level of truth in that statement. but hey, it sure is a lot of gold. 

the pagoda was built a long while back (about 2500 years ago) and back then, architects loved to lay 'holy' structures with all the gold and jewels they could get their hands on. (*a cynical view of this was that it was the kings' insurance plan - very few would attack and plunder a temple for fear of collecting more bad karma, and of course, disturbing some irritable gods) and anyway, gold and precious stones was in great supply back then, so why not have the 'real' thing to jazz up the decor.

with shortages of all kinds right now and increasing inflation, i would expect such grandiose ideas to have been limited to history. i am wrong. 

some years back, i visited pondicherry - a very scenic town in south india where road signs are still written in french (yep, you read right - french) and roadside vendors hawk apples as 'pommes'. c'est beau!

some miles off pondicherry, there is a 'model-mini-world-project' that aims to find the key to lasting peace, overcoming colour-based discrimination (move over luther and mandela), and maybe even mending the ozone layer. it is like an improvised village built in circles around a banyan tree. scenic, peaceful, nice. 

a jarring intrusion was a huge, dome-like structure, covered halfway with gold. yep, good gold bought with donations by people the world over. it was still awaiting more money and gold when i visited, and was cordoned off (probably for fear that the visitors would claw away bits from it). the purpose of this gigantic, expensive structure - it was a meditation hall.  

pardon my ignorance - but cant meditation be done in a bricks-and-mortar dome? or are the pantheon of deities going to be upset if they are called to bestow grace in a hall less than pleasing to their high tastes? 

i don't know who designed the dome. but if she/he/they are pursuers of 'nirvana' - they are paying too high a price - (strictly in my opinion only) of the wrong kind!

a ghostly possibility

i may have been sharing my house with a ghost until two days back. no, really. it all started some days after i moved in to my new house, and had trouble sleeping. 

what makes me sure it is a ghost? (you ask with a cynical air)

now, i am a very deep sleeper (very few things wake me up - and i haven't figured what the 'few things' are as of yet). so if something is bothering me, and disturbing my sleep - it has to be something extra-worldly. plus the fact that i felt 'something' heavy sitting on me once, heard raps on my door and table couple of times, not to mention that a friend (who is exceedingly sensitive to paranormal forces) felt 'uncomfortable' when she visited.

initially, i ignored the ghost. turned my back on it and its nonsense. but apparently, 'it' refused to understand. and kept up its antics. that's when it became apparent i had to do something. hey, i gave up my job at a news channel - not entirely because of, but also - because my sleep was too jilted by the shift-arrangement. so it really didn't make sense to put up with something that makes that decision seem meaningless. right?

so it was. but frankly i was in no mood to hire a priest or exorcist (actually, more like i cant afford their exorbitant rates). and then, a friend suggests an instant cure - prayer, and some simple rituals to propitiate the gods. it seemed a bit off for me but i tried - AND IT WORKED!

holy cow! i am not atheist, but i am not into rituals. but just having some hymns playing and chanting a simple prayer before lights-out has made sure i have restful shut-eye. 

the ghost is apparently resentful. it made some screechy, weird noises from outside my bedroom (note 'outside') the first night, but for now, it seems to have given up. and is maybe scouting around for a new place. 

so, its adios to the ghost that 'shared' my appartment. too bad for the paranormal dude/dudette. but hey, you aint getting real estate for free in sky-high-rents-Singapore. Even if you don't take up much space, literally.