An Evening At The Nursing Home

There she laid, with her mouth wide open, motionless except for the slight rising and lowering of her chest, each of her limbs tied loosely to the bed frame with pieces of stained white cloth.

By the side of her bed stores her few measly belongings. Biscuits, milk powder, toothbrush. All tagged with her name. A name that I read but did not commit to memory.

At the other corner of the room was another woman, probably in her early 50s, with her full head of jet black hair looking out of place among the other residents. She was also lying on her bed, but not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling, presumably deep in thought, paying no heed at all to my friend and I.

An old man sat outside, his walking stick next to him, as he scribbles away on his newspaper, fiercely trying to maintain his dignity, his mind, his sanity, or whatever is left of it.

Another resident, afflicted with what I can only guess is Parkinson's disease, sat watching an English documentary being shown on the television.

These were the scenes that surrounded me when I accompanied a friend to visit her aged grandmother, her mah mah, at a nursing home in Petaling Jaya. I've been to children's home before, but I have never visited an old folks' home prior to this.

My friend visits her mah mah at least twice a week, taking turns with her family members to bring food, drinks, and company to the old lady. I requested that she bring me along the next time she went, and that was how I ended up spending an evening at the nursing home.

Tonight, she brought sweet potatoes and yogurt, and her mah mah was delighted with the sight of the former. She has difficulties talking and even recognising her family members, but you could sense a build up of excitement and approval when she was shown the brown starchy tuber root.

When I helped to wheel her to the dining table, my friend asked her mah mah to lift up her legs instead of letting it drag on the floor. I asked if she would prefer I put the foot rest of the wheel chair down to make it easier for her mah mah. My friend explained that getting her to lift her legs may be the only form of exercise her grandmother will have for her weaken legs muscles and knees.

Seeing my friend talking to her mah mah, holding her right hand gently while encouraging her to use her left hand to hold the spoon and feed herself, it left me with a lasting impression, how two women, separated by more than fifty years and two generations continue to bond for however long it may last.

The attempts at conversation my friend had with her mah mah would probably be the only intelligent stimuli the old lady has had the entire day.

The rest of that evening,  one could only hear the sound from the television and the occasional chatter of the foreign staffs, and I suspect that the days would not be much different.

My friend used a wet towel to wipe her mah mah's face after the sweet potatoes, and banana cake softened with milk.

We left after tucking her grandmother in for the night.

Many of us don't like to be reminded of our mortality. We live our life like there is always tomorrow. The truth is, there is, but it may be a tomorrow that we are not part of.

We all tend to forget that each of us has an expiry date, and contrary to what is widely believed, this expiry date is not the day we finally pass on. No, our expiry date is the day when we start to lose our cognitive abilities, our physical functions. When all you have is the air between your lungs, that is when it is too late.

One may be lucky to live a life to a hundred, but as witnessed by myself on this fateful night, many reach an age where growing old gracefully and with your dignity intact seems like the impossible pursuit of the Holy Grail.

I was reminded of my own maternal grandmother while I was at the home, and I remembered all the morning walks that me and my siblings took with her through the shops in Damansara Uptown. She passed away fifteen years ago due to cancer, and yet my sisters, brother and I still speak of her fondly, as if she is still among the living (My sister related to me how she was recently burned by an incense stick by my late grandmother while praying, as a lesson for being "angry" at my grandmother for not helping my sister win the lottery after having a bird pooped on her).

My apologies if you are searching for a lesson in this post, for there is none to be had. No enlightenment. No morality posturing. No guilt trip to make you feel like you should spend more time with your aged parents and your loved ones.

This is a mere record of my evening spent at the nursing home. I cannot claim that I left that evening a better person, a learned man, but it is an experience that I would not forget in a haste.

Note: A huge thank you to my friend who was willing to let me publish my thoughts and observations of the intimate moments she shared with her mah mah, as well as inviting me to be part of the evening. 

Faith in our generation, restored.

Injustice: Welfare Stopped Due To Political Affiliation

It was reported in The Sun on 5 March 2012 that  Assistant Minister of Modernisation of Agriculture Datuk Mong Dagang had instructed the Welfare Department to stop welfare assistance to a handicapped person, Frusis Lebi.

Datuk Mong Dagang

According to the report his reasons for stopping welfare assistance and subsidies was "because he (meaning Frusis Lebi) is a strong Opposition supporter".

He was quoted in the same daily saying that the "welfare assistance shouldn't have been given in the first place because he can plant padi and ride a normal motorcycle like a normal person".

He allegedly wrote a letter to the Welfare Department and the Agriculture Department stating that Lebi "is against government policies and openly supported the Opposition candidate in Bukit Begunan constituency in the 2011 state elections."

The letter allegedly written by Datuk Mong Dagang

In another report in the same daily, his colleague in the government Tan Sri Dr James Masing, Land Development Minister has defended Datuk Mong Dagang's actions.

Tan Sri Dr James Masing

Masing is quoted in the daily as saying "follow the rule of life, that is jangan lawan towkay. In any organisation, we cannot go against the boss. That is the golden rule in life which we must observe."

Now I don't know why there is not a bigger furore over these unsettling developments in Sarawak.

The fact that an elected official fails to recognise that it is the tax payers, not his political party, who funds the Welfare Department and the machinations that we call OUR government, proves one and for all the sorry state of our country's governance.

The disbursement of such welfare subsidies should not be based on the whims and fancy of a politician. Instead, it should be based on the a set criteria which is transparent and consistent in its application.

Based on what Datuk Mong Dagang allegedly wrote in his letter, it appears that the only reason given to stop the subsidies was that the welfare recipient openly supported the opposition. His subsequent defence that Lebi should not have qualified for assistance in the first place seems like an afterthought, a weak excuse.

To have the Land Minister say, "don't fight the boss because it is the rule of life" speaks volume of the way the government views themselves. Instead of being of public service to the citizens of Malaysia, they act as if they are, in Masing's own words, "bosses and towkays". From what I understand, bosses are people who usually own the organisation, i.e. the shareholders in a company. So, could this mean that Masing sees themselves as owners of Malaysia, and that we are all merely their employees? If you dare quote the "rule of life", how about the "rule of law"?

Gerhard Kocher said, "Ask not what the government can do for you. Ask why it doesn't."

In this case, the reason why it doesn't is merely because you did not cast your vote for them. By following this line of logic, students who are currently on government scholarship may also risk losing financial assistance if they dare to even speak up against the establishment. Businesses which do not toe the line of the political parties currently in power risk being sidelined in the awarding of government contracts.

I continue to use the term "government scholarships" and "government contracts" although the money that goes into the scholarships and the public contracts, belongs to us Malaysians, not the ministers or their cronies.

Do we still need any further reasons to realise that we need to demand our elected officials to be held to a higher benchmark and standard than what Dagang and Masing have exhibited in this instance?

Blessed is the country where her people sees the government and themselves as one and the same.

Do Ugly Babies Exist?

On lazy Sunday mornings like this, I like to just sit back, stare at the ceiling, put my hands in my pockets and ponder on some of life's most profound questions. Today, the following question has left me just a little stumped.

Do ugly babies exist?

Winston Churchill was born old. (Note: Photo on left is NOT Winston Churchill)

The PC police might lobby for legislation that prohibits the criticism of a defenceless baby based on his or her appearance, but really, when has the PC police ever been bothered about universal truths when they are too busy trying not to step on any one's toes.

If one were to rid themselves of the restraints that limit free and rational thinking, one would probably agree with me that not all babies are born adorable.

Simply put, it all boils down to genes. If an ugly man marries an ugly woman, and their baby looks like a mini Brad Pitt, chances are, said ugly woman cheated on her ugly man with Brad Pitt.

For as long as I can remember, even before the advent of the Internet, there has been baby contests. Back in those days, the baby photos submitted are judged by a faceless panel of judges, and the announcement of winners are done without much fanfare.

However, when a certain Harvard dropout unleashed the "Like" button on the world, baby contests have taken on a whole new level. Case in point, a recent baby contest held in Australia, hosted by Bonds, a clothing company.

According to the Yahoo article (Australian Beautiful Baby Contest Turns Ugly),  "Aussie mums were asked to send in pictures of their babies to the Bond Facebook page, but what was intended to be an opportunity to share adorable photos turned into a scathing commentary about the babies appearances".

Some comments were racists, such as one user who commented on a Eurasian baby's photo that "this is Bonds Australia, not Bonds Asia", while some were clearly written by people with no originality and probably a lack of a high school certificate, evidenced by comments such as "ugly ducking" and "a child only a mother could love". 

However, parents also have to share some of the blame. If you are willing to submit your children's photos for what amounts to nothing more than a beauty contest, then you have to be prepared that your little angel may not appear to be that angelic to everyone.

One of the parents of the babies in the Bond contest was so unable to accept the fact that her baby was anything but cute lodged a police report for the offensive comments her baby photos received. I wonder how that conversation went?

Police: Maam, what seems to be the problem?
Mum: I want to lodge a report against this person for calling my precious little baby ugly! Arrest him!
Police: Maam, would you like to put that cabbage you are holding down first before you make your report?
Mum: What cabbage? This IS my baby!
Police: Sorry maam. In that case, we can't arrest someone for telling the truth.

(I was going for the police to reply, "Maam, I thought you wanted to report a rape by Shrek which led to this abomination", but I think that would be too un-PC of me. Rape is not a joking matter, no matter how funny it may be in this context.)

Let's look at it this way. When a baby is crowned as the champion in a baby beauty contest, it means that he or she is more adorable than the baby who is crowned as runners-up, who in turn is judged as more adorable than the second runners up. Flip it around, and one may conclude that the baby placed third is uglier than the runners up, and the runners up is uglier than the champion.

Based on this sequence of logic, if you put all the babies in the world in a beauty contest, comparing from one baby to the another, you will have, say it with me, UGLY BABIES!

Don't get me wrong. As a former ugly baby, I am proof that while one does not grow out of ugliness entirely, it does get easier to live with. It would have been better, though, if the adults were more forthcoming with the level of my adorableness before setting me on a life of disappointment through the baby contest circuits.

Baby Justin

As a friend once said, "it's amazing how most babies, in the first few days after they are born, has all these wrinkles and looks like old people, but within weeks, turn into cherubic little things that you can't help but pepper with kisses all day long".

"He has got his dad's nose, his mum's eyes, and....his grandad's forehead?"

So if you are the parent of an ugly baby, don't fret. Just start putting aside a little more money for his future. Not for colleges or education, mind you, but for the sports car or the cool haircut that costs more than the budget of a third world country, that will be necessary for him or her to survive young adulthood with a mug "only a mother could love".

So, to end this rambling but thoughtful post, I leave you with a picture of the world's most disgusting baby.

So fat he can breastfeed himself

Enjoy the weekend!

The 10 Karaoke Commandments

A recent discourse with a friend on the less than savoury behaviours of people who haunts karaoke joints led to many interesting observations which I've decided would be beneficial for the karaoke community as a whole if they are known and adopted as the commandments for the religion of minus one songs.

This is in no way applicable to the dodgy karaoke joints with, ahem, paid company. In THOSE joints, as long as you have the money, no rules exist and anything goes.

Nope, these commandments are for the legitimate karaoke outlets where the only kisses you'll get are transferred via the microphones (more on that later).

And so, I give you, the 10 Karaoke Commandments:

1. THOU shalt not make out with the microphone

It's a mic, not a lollypop, or that other thing that you lick to make it firm....thread.

The microphones are shared, and it's bad enough it is covered with bacteria from orifices of strangers, but to see you stroking it gently while placing it's bulbous head on your lips while you sing? You can hold on to your slender cordless girlfriend, I'll just sit here NOT sharing your saliva.

2. THOU shalt not select songs for others

Not everyone likes Black Eyed Peas, just like not everyone likes the syrupy ballads of Jacky Cheung (although they should - he is God of Song). So while it is bearable to listen to others sing songs that you may not favour, it gets a little annoying to have others select songs that you dislike, and telling you that they chose if for you and you have to sing it.

3. THOU shalt not covet the songs selected by others

If I select a song first, even if you believe that song to be solely owned by you, too bad. I get to sing it. Hands of the microphone. However, if you are a pretty girl or good looking guy, I might share half the song with you - but if you think you are singing lead, dream on.

4. THOU shalt not select songs just to listen to the original singers sing

Go home and watch MTV or Youtube. It's cheaper.

5. THOU shalt not sit in a corner and play with that damn iPhone (forgivable if it is Blackberry)

You are paying close to a day's wages to be in the karaoke room. Similar to the previous point,  if you are going to spend that time showing the world how "cool" (read: anti-social) you are, or that you think harvesting fake smurf gardens is more important than present company, you can do it from the comforts of your own home.

6. THOU shalt jump songs within reasonable limits

Due to the prevailing nature of Malaysian Timing (see "I am on my way - Concept of Malaysian Timing" ), it is inevitable that some people may come later than others. By then, the list of selected songs may be thicker than a hard copy of Wikipedia.

Size if Wikipedia is printed out

In such situation, it is understandable, even expected, that the latecomers will "jump" some of their songs to the front. This benefits everybody. The latecomers will not feel like they are penalised for being late (their penalty though, should be to buy everyone a round of beer), while those who were there earlier won't get tired of just singing their songs consecutively.

However, don't jump more than one song at a time. Play nice, and take turns.

7. THOU shalt change keys to suit your vocal range

Unless you are Mariah Carey, or that fat kid from Taiwan, you probably can't sing all the songs that you like to sing in their original key.

Make use of technology, and either lower the key (called a flat "♭") or increase the key (called a sharp "#"). And if you do it without anyone knowing, people will be impressed when you can hit that fake high C that Mariah is famous for.

8. THOU shalt get your booty moving when singing a Black Eyed Peas song

Imagine that you are at a funeral, and the mood is sombre, sad even, and the parlour is playing "Let's Get It Started" from their speakers.

Yup, that's how it looks like exactly (minus the presence of a dead body) when you are in a karaoke room and every one's butt is planted to the couch when uptempo songs like these are being sung. It is rumoured that there is a legendary female creature that stands on the couch and puts on a concert whenever Katy Perry's "Fireworks" is on.

Do that, and when "I'm Sexy And I Know It" is on, don't forget, "wiggle, wiggle, wiggle".

Second from left.  He so fugly they put a box on his head.

9. THOU shalt not permanently attach remote control to your hand

Use this as a general rule. Never use the remote control to browse through the outlet's entire song list before letting go. Return it to the middle of the table once you have selected approximately four to five songs, remember where you left of, and continue browsing from that point onwards when the remote has made its rounds back to you.

10. THOU shalt not "accidentally" cancel a song that's being sung halfway.

Carrying on from the previous commandment, familiarise yourself with the buttons before the lights are turned down low, so you do not "accidentally" press the Stop button.

Knowing which exactly is the Stop button will benefit you as well, because as soon as a singer says "cancel the song, I don't want to continue singing anymore," you can cancel immediately before he changes his mind. Hey, time in a karaoke room is too precious to be wasted on songs being sung half-hearted.


So, go forth and multiply, oh believers of the religion of minus-one songs. May Jacky Cheung smile upon you always.

Good Friends/Better Enemies

Boomerang Counsellors: People who returns advices that you yourself said first.

John: I think I should stay away from Mary. I've not contacted her for the past 2 days.
John: I don't think it is going to work out, although I like her a lot. We had fun, but recently, she seems more and more distant.

Kalle: Cooling off period eh?

John: Yeah

Kalle: Hm, I think you should stay away from her.

John: ?!?!?!

Valentine's Day Short Stories on Love

The following were posted on my Facebook account at various interval throughout this year's Valentine's Day.
______________________________________________________________________________

When you are dying, suddenly a lot of people loves you.
  Die, and suddenly EVERYONE loves you.
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

Lost: One male heart. May be broken. If found, please return to her. If she rejects, please dispose of said item accordingly.
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

Breaking News: Elderly lady found dead on grave of husband of 50 years. Police ruled out foul play, suspects broken heart as cause of death. Police implore witnesses to step forward and provide information.
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

A Valentine's Day Short Love Story for The Road: "Happy Valentine's Day, cute but sobbing girl in the car behind me, stuck together in traffic".
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

"Woof woof woof"
"I'm sorry, Hachi, but he is never coming back"
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

A Valentine's Day Short Storyy on Unconditional Love:
"Push push!"
"Congratulations, it's a beautiful baby boy!"
The end.
______________________________________________________________________________

Hmm..I wonder what she is doing right now.
I wonder if she misses me the way that I miss her.
I can't wait to see her in the office again tomorrow, maybe she'll wear that cute skirt that I bought her.
Maybe I'll bring her chocolates.
Hopefully, I'll get to kiss her before the day en...
"Huh?"
"Yeah honey, I love you too. I'm almost done. Don't worry, our kids can't hear us."
...where was I? Oh yeah, a kiss from her before before the day ends.

The end.

G.L.A.D on Valentine's Day

An admission of writer's block. I have the desire to pen down a few thoughts about this special day, but with no outline as yet on my notepad, God knows where this post will be headed towards.

Valentine's Day is not just about one day, as many would have known by now. Nope, for many, it is an event which requires weeks of advance planning, and the repercussions of a well planned or a screwed up Valentine's Day is felt for weeks after that.

I'm not even referring to the corporations or small business owners (such as the evil horde of florists) raking in abominable profits which pays for their children's college funds and their Caribbean cruises (but since we are on this subject, flowers, chocolates and condoms should be included in the Price Control Act and Anti Profiteering Act 2011 to prevent the abuses of young horny, and hence non-rational, males everywhere).

Nope, I am referring to aforementioned horny males - especially those without a girl to spend the money equivalent to a house loan on during this day.

For those who are blissfully unattached, Valentine Day may seem like a non-event, and most single people like to show that they are okay with their current status of being "undesired", but the truth is, they start perspiring pheromones weeks ahead. The following are the stages an unattached man goes through in the days leading to D-Da..I mean, V-Day:

One month before V-Day: I've got a month to find a date for Valentine's Day. Time to stalk Facebook to see who among my friend list is still single. This should be easy. I love you Mark Zuckerberg, for conceiving Facebook.

2 weeks before V-Day: Okay okay, maybe Facebook friends list is a little too limited in scope. Time to expand my search to my Friendster friends.

1 week before V-Day: Self-doubt creeps in. What's wrong with me? I'm slightly porky and puke in my mouth at the thought of conversation with the fairer sex, but I'm sure I'm still better than that obese old man with a bad comb-over and a hot broad hanging on his arms....wait, he drives a Ferarri. I hate women.

2 days before V-Day: Maybe the Mayans screwed up, and maybe the world will end on 13 February, if I pray hard enough.

1 day before V-Day: Stupid radio stations with their constant looping of sappy love songs. Read somewhere that people know they are in love when "all the love songs makes sense". What does it mean then, when "all the love songs makes one want to hang himself like Moe does in The Simpsons every holiday season"?

V-Day: Looks longingly at the couples that walks past your windows, arms locked, tripping over each other. Resolves to improve oneself, by hitting the gym (doable), getting a six pack (doable) and stop being a weirdo (close to impossible), so that one won't remain dateless by the next Valentine's Day.

V-Day +1: Goes back to stalking girls on Facebook. Decides Friendster is a lost cause, tries to add search for Friendster female "friends" on Facebook to add them.

Happy Valentine's Day, my single friends!

Postscript:

Research has shown that single people have more sex with more partners than successfully attached or married couples, so instead of Single Awareness Day, with its S.A.D acronym insinuating a downside to being single, may I suggest G.L.A.D, which stands for Getting Laid Always Day.

Do drop me a message if you have other candidates to replace S.A.D.