My Ramblin' Prose I

A teacher wrote in my autograph book during my final year in school, "Know yourself and live accordingly" before our parting of ways.

It may not even be close to the teachings of the Great Teachers, but it did set me to thinking about my priorities in life.  That, of course was after I'd managed to learn which end's up.  That statement became one of the beams of guiding lights that helped show the way through my life.  If I had been a bad boy then, perhaps the teacher wouldn't have written that in my book.  I'd have just as well followed that advice accordingly and became a notorious bad guy.  But by being a good guy, I made myself invisible.  Not that I have any wish to be noticeable, but being a bad guy sometimes has its uses.  People think twice about talking too loudly in your face or threatening you.  But then I noticed trouble seems to follow these people wherever they went.  Alas, being invisible is one of the common traits of good guys.  We want to get far by treading softly.

I'd just made up my mind that I wanted my life to be as simple as possible.  I had no wish to make it complicated by the trappings and other sophistications.  Maybe I was lucky I got my wish.  I noticed how some people seem to get their lives complicated or screwed up by the spouses or the friends that they chose.  No matter how rich they got owing to their choices, I had no wish to trade places with them.  Maybe sometimes I envy their freedom to spend it however they want, but I don't seem to see any happiness in that.  You must think I'm strange but I don't even think I'm missing anything.  No, I just get scared handling too much money.  Robbers are everywhere out there.  They can smell money a mile away.

Success is an over-subscribed and over-hyped word.  Too many preachers of that philosophy simply link it to getting rich.  Big cars, huge homes, trophy wives, endless dining and exotic holidays.  They must find it better to preach and easier to sell than just health, happiness, goodness and virtue, a nice home-cooked dinner care-of a loving wife and friendly kids.  Somehow, these things that don't make you rich don't sell.  By insinuation they link them to losers.  Mediocrity. 

I'm not sure if the teachings of the Buddha in original Pali language were translated into English precisely enough, but they always seem to confuse me.  I wish they'd just made it plainly and simply how one should live a life and behave towards everyone else in the world, period.  I decided long ago I'd just live by the guidance of my conscience.  That's how things can be made simple, I believe.  Of course you can also hear a lot of politicians say the same things about their conscience being clean after a hue and cry about their alleged corrupt practices.  These folks have a way of using the same good things and polluting them without batting an eye or a trace of guilt.

I think the teacher knew that her advice to me would be taken very well and followed religiously.  Funny though, the last words said by anybody before our parting of ways always seem to have that special impact on me, because I tend to recall those words clearly whenever I face any situation that reminds me of that moment. 

 

Kenasepak (got kicked)

 

After our football team was trashed mercilessly

Someone designed a new logo for the Football Assoc. of Malaysia

Very creative.

For those who must know, here's the translation:

Bolasepak = Football

Persatuan = Association

Kenasepak = Got Kicked (as in the behind)

My opinion:  High time we take politics out of the game.

Outlaw the Cane?

How many remember when life was simple enough that we could differentiate between good and bad in terms of white and black?  But we have become civilised and progressed so far that we seem to have turned all that simplicity into so many grey areas.  The pages of history as well as current mass media are strewn with many examples of bad guys whose parents swore they were good kids, who meant no harm to others even as they were indicted as robbers, rapists or killers.  And it's up to the lawyers with their mental acrobatic twists and turns to prove them guilty beyond reasonable doubt.

And now they even think caning a kid for bad behavoir is called 'corporal punishment' and the practice should be banned. 

Try wishing back the days of black and white.  You can't appreciate the brightness of daylight without knowing the darkness of the night.  Everyone has to be shown what's good and what's bad and understand the difference.  Or he has to learn it for himself, the hard way.

In bringing up a kid, I believe there's a time to use the carrot and there's a time when you need to use the stick.  If a child is told in no uncertain terms he's done wrong when he breaks the rules, and he's punished if he continues to do so, he gets the message sooner or later.  Of course, it has to be done with his welfare in mind.  But if he gets the mollycoddles all the time and nobody demonstrates what it means if he does wrong, then he gets the message that he can get away with anything.

Unless he's intelligent enough to reason like an adult, (and there are kids who can do that), he's going to be as confused as the pit bull which killed an old lady and wondered why everyone's so fussy about it.  He was just acting naturally.  The old lady looked threatening to him.  And nobody said you can't attack old ladies!

The old malay proverb about shaping bamboo while it's still young applies universally.  Since we think kids are smarter now, we have to start them even younger.  Parenting is no "walk in the park".  And I would add that there's no standard response to standard treatment.  What's good for the goose doesn't necessarily mean it's good for the gander.  You have to use your intelligence.  And the bonus is, if you're intelligent, your kids will be even better if you bring them up right.

So, if you look forward to a peaceful walk in the park without having to pull your kids off the throats of other kids or flower beds they're trying to wreck, then do your job first.  Doesn't matter if you do it your way.  Just make it clear to your kid what's good and what's bad.  And do it with love.

I believe kids are resilient enough to outgrow the 'mental scars' or other excuses that child experts use to discourage "corporal punishment" (using the cane), unless you whip them half to death with a steel pipe which happened to be in your hands.  That's not punishment.  That's venting your own anger.  That's self-centered.  And that's destructive.

 

Bombed Out

Another family get together, another story to add to this blog.

LKK, now a retired driving instructor, used to get 'invitations' by the road transport department to attend courses and seminars in such far away places as Pangkor or Langkawi. On one of those trips which lasted 3 days/2 nights, he had to put up with an instructor from another state. The two guys shared a room in an apartment. The atmosphere in the beginning was amicable.

As middle aged guys most of them had windy bellys. But they were veterans at keeping their wind-breaks under control during the daytime lectures, which was considered a feat. But at night in their rooms they tried as best as possible not to intrude into each other's space or hearing range, so both maintained their decorum like they tried to do in the lecture rooms. Only problem is, when one is tired and sleepy, the ability to control the belly's wind from going at full throttle is near to impossible.

It so happened that when the other guy who went to sleep facing away from LKK, he inadvertently let off one full blast of foul air in KK's direction.

Bloody hell, I can control, you cannot ah? KK thought to himself.

Summoning his old tricks, KK let off a 'warning' blast to remind him of the protocol. The other guy took this to be an answer to his challenge. He came back a few minutes later with another hearty blast. This riled KK tremendously. He decided that the situation required an all out declaration of war. He immediately returned fire and thereafter timed his shots to roughly one blast every ten to fifteen minutes.

The air bombardment lasted until way pass midnight with most shots coming from KK. The other gentleman finally conceded defeat. The deterioration of air quality and the noise pollution did get to him. He couldn't sleep at all. He evacuated his bed together with his pillow and blanket into the hallway and spent the rest of the night there.

The next day the news went out among the whole gang of driving instructors from every state in the federation, how KK bombed his room-mate out of the room with not only both hands down but also lying down. He wondered loudly how anyone could manage to have so much air-pressure in his belly within such short intervals.

 

Isn't that why I always wear short-sleeves?

Your Brain is 47% Female, 53% Male

Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Place of worship – yours or mine?

When I was a kid I used to join my Catholic friends in a church next to our school.  They asked me why I did that.  I said I wanted to learn about their religion because they gave me an impression that it's better than mine.  No, I didn’t say that actually.  I remember vaguely that was what went on in my mind, but I couldn’t articulate it that eloquently at that age.  I was in Form One.  I was thirteen.  I was just curious and I loved singing along with everybody those soothing hymns that tell about love, goodness, charity and bliss in heaven.  And that we’re all sinners hoping to get saved.

Then there were those religious lessons we had with those Brothers in their long robes.  They told good stories.  At least during those lessons we’d learned about why they stuck that guy on that cross.  We had a text book that told about his life, how he was born, and how and why he died.  We were also told where we’d go after we’d died if we’re good and that awful place we’d have to go to if we’re bad.  I wasn’t particularly worried about that though.  We’re still young and we’d a long, long way to go.  We’d be having more years through this living hell, how can we worry about the one after that.  That’s what I thought then.

Our parents never told us much about why we burn all those incense and papers.  If we wanted to learn anything about our own religion we had to go find books or join the Buddhist association.  Alas, those lessons and talks they gave were conducted mostly in Mandarin.  All the knowledge I had about Buddha was from the history books.  And the doctrines I found in those books they left out on the shelves in temples weren’t of much help to me either.  After I read the first few pages I got more confused than ever.  Maybe they didn’t translate them properly enough from the original Pali language.

Anyway, I didn't convert to Christianity, not because they're not better, but because I found that they're preaching the same basic principles and worshipping someone greater than themselves by singing songs and burning candles.  We're doing that too, only our tunes and lyrics are different.  We also burned candles.  We included incense, gold or silver-coated papers.  And I probably would have conflicts with my parents because we’d have ended up practicing different forms of worship.  Besides, we had to work seven days a week.  They can’t do any work on Sundays.  Try telling that to my Pa...

Our Rukunegara requires us to believe in God.  It doesn't say which, but I think as long as it is God it's acceptable.  Basically, we’re told, nobody can force anyone to follow any religion that he doesn't want to.  That was stated very clearly in our Federal Constitution.  But then

 

 

 

 

 

 I had to leave that space blank.  It’s supposed to be for my ranting about freedom of religion in this country.  But we cannot say anything about it because our Prime Minister said it’s a sensitive subject and discussing it in public can create riots and cause instability in our country.  I care a lot about this country.  But our leaders don’t seem to think the same way even though they speak like they do, day in and day out, especially in the newspapers they own. 

It's ok to let your kids visit my blog...

It's ok to let your kids visit my blog. hahaha

 

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