No one said it's fair

Life is unfair. I know this. Mothers will always have their favourite child (although they will deny this till the day they die). Attractive people will always have it easier. As will apple polishers, people with influential fathers or relatives, people with money, people with power. For those of us who have none of these things except a pleasant personality and a heart in the right place (present company included), we will just have to continue struggling to survive. Nice guys always finish last. But I’d rather be myself and finish last, than be someone else and finish first.

Books

Books! I love books. Always have, always will. Damn the internet and it’s “but-you-can-find-anything-and-everything- online” zombie followers. Of course it’s useful. But nothing beats a good book. The touch, the feel, the smell, the comfort of a book cannot compare to anything else in the world.

The trick about reading for me is that I like to read what I like to read when I want to read. I can’t be forced to read something because everyone says it’s good or because it’s a best seller or because it’s the “in thing” to be reading a particular book. (This explains why I was never very good at studies, because I was forced to read all them geography and history books – let’s not even talk about chemistry and physics! This also explains why I don’t like work that much because again, I am forced to read things that I don’t necessarily want to read at that point in time.)

I love the English language. It’s not my mother tongue but it’s the first language I ever learned and I express myself the best in English. With the exception of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Moby Dick (my favourite book of all time!!) I prefer English authors. (No, I am not suffering from a colonial hangover.) From Enid Blyton to Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie and now Sophie Hannah and Val McDermid.

Apart from an intriguing story line that will take me to places I have never been to before (and some places I never will, except in my head), good authors also inspire me with their poetic prose, wit and artistic use of words. Some things are said so concisely yet beautifully, it lifts my spirit – “...would you bypass curious in your haste to get to furious?” (Sophie Hannah, The Carrier).

If only there was more time to indulge. Now isn’t that a complaint you often hear.

Friendship is overrated

There is a certain code of conduct that I expect from people. I know what they say, if there are no expectations there will be no disappointments. But they also say no man is an island. Everyone needs, or has to have friends (I disagree with the latter but we will assume for present purposes that no man is an island). When it comes to people who you wish to call friends, that’s just the way it is for me. There has to be a certain code of conduct. If you fall below that code, then I cannot consider you my friend. Of course, things can change. But it will take a heck of a lot to change my mind once you have disappointed me.

This is why I have very few friends. I am not complaining. People say I have unrealistic expectations of people. For me, it is very simple. I expect to be treated the same way I would treat another person. The moment you do not do that, you are not my friend. I don’t think this is too much to ask. I’m not asking you to walk on fire or run a marathon to prove your friendship. I’m asking for the barest minimum – trust, loyalty, love. If that is too much to ask, so be it. I’d rather be an island. 

I am happy

I never thought I would ever say this again. I am happy. It took me more than 3 years to be happy again. To be happy with just the way things are. With my girls, with the sun, with the birds singing, with running in the park, with my new car. Not caring about the past or the future, but just basking in the present.

And I’m proud to say that I didn’t delve into drugs or medication or alcohol or shrinks to get out of depression. That’s not to say that I haven’t done anything that I’m not proud of. There were some embarrassing situations in the past, mostly from bad exercise of judgment. But if you’re not in the right frame of mind, you tend to do that. You’re not yourself and therefore not truly guarded and unable to see reason or listen to good advice. I don’t look at it as something I regret, but something I have learned and take with me so that I don’t go down that path again. It was a necessary evil, if you must.  

I wanted to die for all the wrong reasons. I still can’t stop death. It is bound to happen. But if it happens now, I die happy, I die doing the things I like doing, I die knowing that I was useful in this world. That makes me somebody. I am not anonymous. And that’s always better than to die thinking you should never have been born in the first place.

Doctors will tell you that depressed people need help. Not everyone is the same so yes, some people may need help. But the best doctor to heal your soul is really yourself. Because no one knows you better than you know yourself. And if you don’t know who you are, it’s about time you go find out. It has made all the difference to me.  

Nature vs nurture

Ask anyone and they will tell you that I am as Malaysian as they get. I love all things Malaysian, idiotic politicians included. But taking a step back, ethnically I am Indian. My paternal grandfather was born and bred in South India and he came to Malaysia at a fairly young age to earn a living. Same story with my maternal grandfather except that he came from Sri Lanka. My parents were born and bred in Malaysia, and I am second generation Malaysian.

Recently I became acquainted with someone who comes from India. As in born and bred in India, but is currently working in Malaysia. Now, one would think we would have a lot in common since we have similar roots. But ironically, there is such a gap between us in terms of outlook in life, values, culture, the way of thinking, that we are really from 2 different worlds altogether. That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with him or with me. It’s just that we were brought up in 2 different countries altogether, in very different environments, so that although we’re both Indian, we’re as different as night and day.

Oddly, I find more similarities with my European acquaintances!

Nurture is definitely more powerful, or more influential, than nature.

The right not to vote

This is not about politics. This is not about who’s better than who. This is not about competition. This is not about the imposition of opinion on others. This is about rights.

I did not vote at the last general elections. I am not going to justify my actions. This is not the right place or forum to do so. On the day of the elections, there was a write up on facebook about how people who don’t exercise their right to vote have no right to call themselves citizens of Malaysia, and have no right to complain about anything, from potholes to corruption, and that we are just a bunch of ignorant fools.

Excuse me?  I am as Malaysian as they get. What people don’t realize is that the right to vote must necessarily include the right NOT to vote. It’s my right, no matter what my reasons may be.  

When I ask people why they voted, the answers vary from “we want to give the opposition a stronger voice”, to “we want to see some changes”, to “we have had enough of corruption”, to “it’s my right to vote”. Well, here’s what I think. One should vote for the party one thinks will really work for the country. And if that party loses, well, that’s just democracy in motion – majority wins. Any other reason a person may have for voting, for me, is crap. That’s my opinion. Just like other people may think that me exercising my right NOT to vote is crap.

So who is right and who is wrong? Neither. You want to vote, go right ahead. You don’t want to vote, that’s your choice too. Don’t turn around and tell me that you’re more Malaysian than I am because you voted and I didn’t. Seriously! Am I worse than someone who gets paid to vote for a certain party? Or someone who votes and then proceeds to commit crimes? Or someone who makes an informed choice not to vote as opposed to someone who will vote for just about any party because “the opposition must have a stronger voice”? Come on.

The best irony is that these people who champion rights – the right to vote, the right to free speech, the right to assemble – will be the first to criticize anyone who doesn’t follow THEIR train of thought. For example, by disowning me as a Malaysian because I did not vote. What happened to free speech, free choice? I guess it’s free so long as I do it according to their rules.

In which case, what’s the difference between them and the government of the day?

  

The apple does not fall far from the tree

There was a time when if anyone said I was just like my mother I would get angry because in my mind, I am the total opposite of her. When I was younger I tried to do the opposite of what she did because I did not want to be like my mother. She’s a great person, but we were so different that growing up I couldn’t get along with her, and we would fight about almost everything. My father had to be the umpire, referee, linesman, you name it. And more often than not, he would take her side because her tantrums used to be worse than mine and good luck to whoever is not on her side.

Fast forward to the present. I see my mother in me now than ever before. Without knowing, we are doing so many similar things together. When I went back home the last time, I found that she was collecting RM20 notes because it is orange and so pretty. So am I. I also found out that she randomly distributes ‘ang pow’ or small gifts to the workers in restaurants she frequents, or neighbours or acquaintances who are objectively poor. So do I. And here’s the best part. When she found out that someone had hurt my feelings, her comment was “I have a can of red spray paint somewhere...” That is so something that would also cross my mind.

My mother has mellowed down over the years. While I may still disagree with the way she handled things in the past, she has become a person I now respect and love dearly.

My father told me a long time ago that I couldn’t get along with my mother in the past because our characters are similar, but because our characters are similar, we will one day get along very well. I’m sure my father would have forgotten that he ever told me that. But how true his words of wisdom are!

So now if anyone said I was just like my mother, I would be proud and honoured. It’s a compliment. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.