It's good to be uncomfortable

Like the proverbial toad in the pot of water, I have been wallowing in comfort not realising the water is simmering to a boil. Or, maybe I felt the heat but I just don't want to venture into the cold hard world out there. And, against my best judgement, I accumulated debts when I am at the point of my life where I should have accumulated wealth.

The past cannot be undone. Life must go on. Pride must be swallowed. I have plans which was put on hold because I thought I was under this snug blanket of security. In hind sight, I know nothing lasts forever, but I just want to stay in bed for a few more minutes..... So I put the alarm on snooze. Never will the maxim you snooze you lose, be truer.... For me at least.

Now that I suddenly find myself a persona non grata, my mind has come up with brilliant ideas. Unfortunately, all of them need incubation, a gestation period.

And, I am afraid, while incubating and gestating, I may start feeling comfortable again, fall asleep, and hit that snooze button again to silent that annoying alarm....

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An Ironic Epiphany

During a cigarette break, a colleague and I starred out at the city skyline. "What if somebody gave you five million. What would you do with it?" suddenly he asked. I looked at him but he continued to gaze at the jagged horizon. "I don't know. Maybe I'll buy some properties, rent them out....." I said. "That's it, isn't it... " he suddenly turned to me, excited. "That's what I told this stupid friend of mine, just take the money and buy real-estate and earn passive income.... What a jerk.." he trailed off. "Your friend has five million?" I asked. "No..... but, his girlfriend was willing to give it to him, and he refused..." "Why? What's wrong with the guy?" "He's married... happily married.. but this girl at his workplace, the daughter of the bloody filthy rich boss, is crazy for him. She's willing to be his 2nd wife... But, this idiot friend of mine, he refused. I...

A letter from my mother

Today, on the first day of Ramadhan in the 52nd year of my life, while I was rummaging through some old stuff, I came across a letter written to me by my mother, folded and enveloped into a prescription drug package. My mother taught herself to write in Rumi, so some words are quite difficult to figure out. She was probably more comfortable writing in Jawi, but she knew her son is useless at reading it. The letter was not dated, but I would say it was written circa 1985, the year that I dropped out of UTM. The letter was an angry letter, as angry as my dearest mother would be. I cannot remember the occasion that warranted such letter, but I think I must have said something that hurt her. She wrote that I should have told her or father (unlikely) or my brothers and sisters that I am having difficulties in my studies. She wrote that I have ostracized myself from my family, and she understood that I did this because I do not want to be any more a burden to my parents and my sibli...

The road to hell is paved with good intents....

Once there was a man who all his life have nothing but good intentions. But, everybody in his village said that he was the devil. He robbed and maimed. He killed and destroyed. When he was caught and brought to justice, his defense was that he was only trying to feed his family. When he was growing up, he was not good at school. The teachers all say he was hopeless, his father thought he was an embarrassment, his siblings thought he was a burden, society keep reminding him that the world would be a better place if he wasn't in it. Only his mother saw him differently. Only his mother loved him because he was her son.... and for no other reason. And later, he met the woman of his dreams and married her and had beautiful children and he vowed that they will never ever go through life as he did. He swore on his life, that he will do anything to ensure his children go the best schools, eat the best foods, wear the best clothes, grow up to have the best jobs, to be whatever they as...

Life's Remains....

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