Archive for December, 2007

Little Words to Live By
Never kiss a person so he/she can break your heart


Its finally dead. Not a single pulse. For more than 4 years I’ve kept it close to heart. An item so small, its value is far beyond words could describe, its treasure sunked deep in the sole of my existense. An overstatement, perhaps.

When it happened, I wanted to scream in pure frustration. All I could managed was a meaningless yelp. Like a helpless puppy straying on the street, lost without his mother. It was such a long time ago that I sometimes wonder if it existed at all, but it did. I’m sure it did, the sweetest memory, the undying words of love buried in that small box. Now, its all gone. Faintly, I still remember the numbers flashing in front of me, the melody chirping away. I stood gazing at the lifeless blue thing, marvelling at how quickly and completely my life had changed. In a day. No, less. And without warning.

It finally gave up on me. Drawing the last straw, hinting I should have given up a long time ago. There was once I recalled so clearly how it survived the toughest fall. It crashed from my bedside onto the hard surfaced. Cracked into pieces and yet it was still breathing. I was thankful then, the numbers and saved messages were all intact.

I scrumbled for days hunting for the lost numbers, then it dawned upon me, my effort was in vain. Meaningless names and insignificant numbers. Numbers and names that never appeared on my phone. Even at times, after sending a well wish across the ocean, the reply was “Who are you?”. Dumbfounded and speechles, yet I remained those names and numbers on my phone. Why ? Doubtless, my presence, my friendship was nothing more than just a name, but the truth was, no matter how horrible it may seemed, I kept the hope, just perhaps one day, one fine day I will receive a ring. That day never came. The long silence rang in the air.

Here I am, holding my new handphone with only numbers that truly matters to me. With each sound it came, it echoed with a rekindled friendship. A sincere and genuine “hello” purged through my throat. I could never be ever so grateful for receiving calls. Friendship is indeed a two way street.

If you never hear from me, never see my well sms wishes, you will never ever will again, as the numbers are lost in space. Why should I bother, when you never did.

Little Words to Live By
The world is a big mirror. Cry and the world cries with you. Smile and the world smiles back at you.

By: M.L. Lai
Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw him, you would even say it glows.
The tune hums in my head as I lay the candy stick on the table.

I was getting very excited, I looked at the box and found myself smiling silly. When I first laid eyes on the box of candy cane in Cold Storage, I lit up with a marvelous plan. “This would be an excellent Christmas gift for my students, I’m sure they will love it !” I thought happily. It’s just so cute, I could hardly resist it myself. I grabbed several boxes and went on to the counter. The lady looked at me and asked, “Having a party?” My humble reply was, “I sure am !”

Arriving back at work. I quickly unwrapped the box to closely examined its content. A normal candy cane, a green wire and a pair of eyes.

The innocent candy cane looked pretty normal. Then, I started with the reindeer horns.

Then the eyes were glued on. Sparkling black eyes with the glowing nose. I could sense that Santa Claus was watching me closely.

The first reindeer is alive now, breathing sweet air.

Standing proud.

My tuition center is now an official candy production house. Reindeers ready to bring the Christmas cheer to all the children around the world.

From the Santarina, here’s wishing all my faithful blog readers a very Merry Christmas !!

Little Words to Live By
Anyone can share your happiness, only true friends are willing to share your sorrow.

By: M.L. Lai

It is when you read lines after lines, chapters after chapters of a book till the end and realize you comprehend absolutely nothing the thoughts of the author, and yet you re-read the book just to prove that it is patience that you have, and not stupidity.

It is when you wait, without complain, without a fuss for a web page to finish loading all the pictures and banners and realize that there is no updates on the blog, and yet you still wait for the last words to appear on your monitor screen, just to prove that it is patience that you have, convincing yourself that you’re not a blog addict.

It is when your heart is troubled waiting for a call, when your mind is worried sick about the person who never returns your calls or replies your sms, and yet you sit by the phone, waiting for the phone to ring, just to prove that it is patience that you have, and not obsession for the person.

It is when you are able to teach the same subject matter day in day out to the identical group of students who unfortunately still utter the incorrect answers, and yet you find yourself repeating the words, the lessons, just to prove that it is patience that you have, and it is not money that sustains your presence in the classroom.

It is when you are rushing the last seconds on the road but yet you slow your car, giving way to the old man crossing the road, just to prove that it is patience that you have and not ignorance to the senior society.

What does patience mean to you ?

Little Words to Live By
If you can see the obstacles, you’ve taken your eyes off the goal

By: Unknown
This is the moment I part my last words
Everything that I hoped for with you
Perhaps you are not the same anymore
Perhaps the feelings has gone forever

And when we do meet again
Please don’t ask me why
I stopped calling
Please don’t ask me for the moment we once shared

When you wake up and realize its too late
I’m no longer there for you
Perhaps I am not the same anymore
Perhaps the feelings has gone forever

And when you wonder why
Please don’t expect me to tell you so
Just perhaps you will never know
Or perhaps there isn’t anything to begin with

Little Words to Live By
There is no failure except in no longer trying

by: Unknown

The first time always hurts. So, I was warned but little did I expect the pain would be so intense. It all started with an innocent question, “So, I hear you do mountain biking?” I prompted an old acquaintance. A simple yes landed me in Forest Research Institute Malaysia (FRIM) on the crisp morning of 25th November 2007.

Arriving at the car park, I was bursting in excitement. Trying to conceal my anticipation, I remained a composed posture but the truth was, I was dying to climb up on the two wheels. Delicately but carefully, the familiar face took the wheels off the car roof, I watched in glee. Once the wheels were on, I climbed up on my first mountain bike. It was horrible. The seat was too high for me. I struggled maintaining a balance with the bike. I was like a clown walking on stilts. My hands stretched far and my body plunged into a cat bend, I managed to cycle nevertheless. Clearly I was in discomfort, my old friend came to my rescue. He took his equipment out, a stick that looked somewhat like a pliers or screw. Being an oblivious woman with handy tools, I looked at the man meddling with his tools. He pulled the seat out and measured, sternly he said “that’s the lowest the seat post can do”. With that I erupted a bold reply “ I told you I was short ! I always have trouble with the seat, even with my own bike at home.I even gave you my height measurements beforehand. Can you please do something about it ” I sulked in distress. Standing next to him was the owner of the loaned bike, “oh, this is a feisty one” he blurted out. What a first impression I made to a new friend.

I had no choice but to suck it up with the tormented posture. Either that, or I don’t ride at all. I didn’t wake up at 5 am in the morning for nothing, I thought to myself. I rode a few rounds, playing with the gears. I fell down a few times, as I wasn’t braking correctly. My feet was dangling in mid air, far too high for me to comfortably stop the wheels. Putting on his expert skilled hat, my old friend showed me how to shift the bike so I can make room for my feet to land correctly. I swing my legs around the seat post and my thighs hit the seat, again the seat was too high for me. By then, other bikers were arriving at the car park. I was turning red. I stood by the corner, hiding and practising my leg swing. “…. can we swap your saddle “ a distant voice spoke. He came back with another saddle. He took the saddle off and slide it back into the frame. “Try now” he uttered. I climbed up and it was perfect ! I smiled gratefully. He walked off, to return the long saddle to the other kind biker and thanked him. I watched him from behind, standing tall and proud. He saved a damsel in distress or he was just glad that the new saddle shut my whining, the thought lingered on my mind.

I was very fortunate to have a quick crash course on safety biking. “Always remember, whatever happens, throw the bike away, save yourself. Your life is more valuable than the bike. Bike can always buy new one” the owner of the loaned bike assured me. Somehow, I wasn’t convinced. With doubt, I asked “How much is the bike?” My jaw dropped when I heard the reply, “About 10K”. My knees went weak, I almost fell off the bike. My expression gave in, I was sick worried to my gut. “Really, its just a metal piece. The bike will survive but you won’t if you fall with the bike on top of you.” he comforted me. I shrugged and said nothing.

The anticipation was building, riding on a 10K worth of solid frame. The moment came and the crowd gathered for an announcement. Making the statement probably the umptiempth time, the sweeper announced, “this is gonna be a short and simple ride. We ride up steroid ..” That word rang out loud, I was terrified but I embraced myself for an adventure. An adventure I never quite understand when I watched those extreme bikers hiked up the hills shown on AXN. What insanity drove them to take such risky sport? Here I am, joining the “insane” activity I once frowned upon.

We started cycling, roughly in a group of 10. We cycled past the streets of floral shops. The morning flowers in pots were glowing. The beauty of the petals were enchanting, staying in focus on the road was a challenge for me. I wanted to stop and smell the flowers. I continued riding and soon we reached a path that seem to lead into the forest. I was told to wait. Waited I did for my “buddy” rider.

The ride began. Up I went. It was rather unusual for me the first 15 minutes, as being a hiker I generally look around the surroundings, take my time to enjoy the view. However, I realized that riding on the bicycle I lost such luxury. I was tensed up with the bicycle, the 10K worth of metal frame. I held onto the handlebar as if my life depended on it. So much so, till I reached a cliff, it dawned upon me that my life indeed is dependent on the wheels. I felt fear, I tasted fear when I saw the cliff. The sensation was indescribable. Without much hesitation, I turned to my “buddy rider” and said, “ My hospital card is in my wallet. Will you die if you fall into that cliff? “ Sarcastically, he replied “You won’t die. You just break a few bones”. Faintly, I heard my heart stopped for a moment. We arrived at “steroid hill”. I was given two options, to ride up the hill like a man or take the easy path around the hill. Give up without trying ? I buckled up my courage along with my womanly manly ego and said “I am riding up ! “ Admittedly, I was dying in pain and agony. The half an hour ride up the hill earlier must have busted my labia. I figured if its gonna hurt, I might as well die in glory. A dignified death.

I rode up hard.Willfully with each paddle, I found strength to do yet another yank. Halfway, I collapsed and I stopped for air. As I inhale the fresh air, I felt numb down under. I was immune to the pain. My feet took charged and I continued paddling. The adrenaline was rushing up, I was panting and gasping. Not realizing it, I was probably moaning in ecstasy. Finally, I climaxed and reached the top of the hill. I cycled up steroid hill, my first attempt and I survived.

That was just the tip of the iceberg. Cycling down hill triggered yet another emotion. I learnt how to lift my butt high, this is so I can save my generations after. Bumping one stone after another, the bike flew up in the air.

Abrasion from the fall

Whilst in the air, I saw another cliff and I panicked. The bike went down on a big stone, I was clutching to the handle for my dear life and crashed … I hit the ground. The bike flung aside and I was seated on my buttocks. Looking at the 10K worth of metal piece, I realized something very valuable. At times of emergency, you naturally forsaken even the most precious belonging to save yourself. Human instinct for survival. I sat on the ground and my elbow started bleeding, the nerves in my knees find its way to the spine, filling my body with a sharp unpleasant sensation. The soreness gave me meaning to my life. How I appreciated the fall, I didn’t break any bones. I am thankful. My “babysitter” waited for me to regain my composure and then prompted me, “Are you OK?”. I looked up at him and I just smiled.

The journey up and down the hill was a learning experience, one that is tiring but yet enjoyable. Reaching the tar road, I felt the wind gushed against my face. Flying free somewhat. Upon arriving at the cafe, I sat next to a female biker. In complete exasperation, I asked her “Is this suppose to hurt that bad ?” Shyly, she nodded and added “Wearing the right pants should soften the impact and riding a girl’s bike has better cushion”. With much sympathy, she gave me a pat on my shoulder. Another sympathetic male rider shared his empathy as he parts his wife’s riding experience with me. Now, I truly understand why this sport does not entice females.

bruising on both knees after fall

Will I have a second time in mountain biking ? To be honest, I’m not sure. I just have to wait and see. Till next time, I think I should allow some time for recovery. My first time, I never expect for it to hurt …that bad.