Circle of Life: Before I can do something else, I have to do the same things.

I am at that stage of my life where I wish I can just retire and yet still draw my current income (maybe a bit more).

Come to think of it, I have been in this stage for the last decade. It is disheartening that I am part of the majority in the bell curve. But, like everybody in that sector, I really have no idea of what I want to do. I am where I am because I was walking on that road of life with my eyes fixed only as far as the ground at my feet and went along with the traffic flow. My life has been a series of random decisions made, not by me, but by chance.

Not that I am complaining. I think I've had a great life. And, that made me a little bit more grateful to God. As a human being, there are times when I think that I could/would/should have done better for myself. Yet, at the same time I acknowledge that there are so many thinks that could have gone wrong.

I guess that's why I like the poem by Robert Frost "The Road not Taken". Frost wished he could take both the roads that lay before him as he stood at the fork, but felt sad that he could take only one, and therefore, will never know where the one he did not take would have led him.

Now, as age began to take affect on me, I think I'll prepare a bucket list. In fact, I think I'll lay it out in my next blog.... Things to do before I die....

In the mean time, I think I look for another job, with a higher pay.....

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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...

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