Yearning for the unfamiliar

The minute I reach my office, I start counting the hours before I can go home again. What is wrong with me? There are 8 things on my to do list, but none of it I can work on. Each one of them has to wait something else to happen before I can make progress on these things. Maybe I am too efficient. Whatever it is, I am bored. And I feel guilty. I am not doing much, yet there's so much to be done.

Some people tell me that work is also "ibadah". I agree. But, I just want to do something else. It is perhaps my short span of attention. 8 years is the longest I ever worked under one employer and by the end of this month I will have equalled this milestone.

I just need a change. There's nothing wrong in this place. Whatever issues I have encountered so far, I have been in similar situations, in varied versions, at my previous places of employment. Sometimes you get tense due to the workload, sometimes you get bogged down by people's behaviours and attitudes.

Sometimes, while being stuck in traffic jam along the highway, I would look at a shady path that diverged off in to the unknown, I wonder what lies beyond. Sometime's I wish I am bold enough to just flick my signal-lights an turn off into the unknown road and get lost....

I trudged along this path long enough. I want to explore the next turnoff....

Wonder where that will lead me?

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7 Days to Live

This coming Friday, on December 21, 2012, the planet Nibiru, last seen only by the ancient Sumerians a few thousand years ago, will come around and pass so near our earth that it will shift the poles and cause a cataclysm, wiping all living things on our planet. According to Nancy Lieder, this phenomenon was first predicted to happen in 2003, but when nothing happened then, she postponed it to 2012. Ms Lieder claimed that she was abducted by aliens when she was young and later released so that she can warn all of us of the impending end of the world. Something is going to happen on December 21, some people insists, because that is the last day on the Mayan Calendar. The Mayan Calendar it seems is as accurate as the atomic clock, marking exactly the celestial events for the last 5,000 years. Some say that a meteor will fall to earth and we will then go the way of the dinosaurs. Or.... a huge solar flare occurs, engulfing and annihilating all planets in its path, earth...

Another phase in life.... hers and mine...

I have been in a melancholy mood. I have been unmotivated, wishing that I don't have to go to work. Although, I try to be the type of parent that is practical and always encouraged my children to be independent and self-sufficient, I guess I've always wanted to be there for them. Now, there is this realization that my eldest daughter, doesn't need me anymore. Sending her to college last Sunday, it suddenly occurred to me that she will, from now on, be spending more time away from us. This is what has put me in a pensive mood. And, in a couple of years, my eldest son will leave us and then my other daughter, then finally, my youngest son. I look back at the last 17 years of raising her, I wish I had been a better parent. I wish I was had shown more patience and compassion rather than anger and edginess. I wish I had shown more composure than agitation. Maybe, that is why I find it hard to let go. I have this feeling that I haven't done enough, that I must hang on ...

Pak Mat Beca

I started school in 1971. I went to Sekolah Ismail (Dua), as far as I am concerned the only primary school in the whole universe and every kid must go there or the government will put their parents away forever. The "Dua" or Two (2), does not mean there were two Sekolah Ismails. There was only one, except that there were two sessions, morning and afternoon. When I started in standard one, I was in the morning session. Apparently, somehow, the two Ismails alternate, and I really can't recall ever having to go to school in the afternoon. Every morning, my cousin, the late Hashimah Hashim (Allah bless her soul), and I would wait for Pak Mat to pick us up in his beca, his trishaw. And, until I changed school in 1976 (that's another story to tell), Pak Mat and his beca would take me to school every school day. I know of no other way to go to school and I did not really appreciate the distance that Pak Mat had to cycle to pick us up and send us to our respective s...

Life's Remains....

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