Discovering Life

A few months into pre-school, I told my dad that I didn’t wish to continue going to the classes anymore because my teacher could not, for the life of her, pronounce my name properly. (She called me Manina. Manina?! How did the letters “r” and “l” morphed into an “n”? And this came from a person who was supposed to teach me my ABC’s.) After a chuckle and an “Are you sure?”, my dad agreed to let me stay home and play instead.

The days that followed were tranquil and filled with joy. In the mornings, I’d draw, paint and play; the afternoons were spent with my mum who read me stories and taught me how to add and subtract; some evenings, my dad would teach me how to read and write.

One of the mornings, I found myself awake alone in our house that was bathed in the glorious warm tone of a delicious morning sun. I remember walking into the kitchen, thinking the rays that flooded the windows were veils of magic dust. I went into the bathroom, cupped water from a running tap and then watched it flow through my fingers. I caught myself breathing deeply, paused for awhile and thought, “this is life. I am alive.”

That afternoon, I watched my mother’s rhythmic breathing as she was taking a nap. I tried to hold my breath to see if I felt any different. Then I deduced that there was an existence within me that was more than physical. I asked my dad later about it and he told me I’ve just discovered my own soul.

Do you remember the first time you discovered life?

Nothing Like The Present

Spoke to an old friend today and he told me how he missed the good old days. I told him that although my youth was good in general, I surely don’t miss them. Those were the days of shopping with friends, checking out boys, watching local bands play and getting away with many, many things. Those were also the days fraught with illness, sadness, and struggle.

Life has been a series of constant learning and improvements. It took me so long to realise this.  Everything “bad” that had happened was an opportunity for me to learn and better myself. So in effect, each new day is better than the day before.

The present is a comfortable place for me to be right now. The people I love are healthy and relatively happy and that makes me happy.  It’s funny how now that I live life fully aware of the present, every little “good” thing is magnified. “I’m having a funny conversation with my husband, how cool is that?”, “My cat is dreaming in its sleep. This is cuteness personified!”, “I’m eating a chocolate bar. What a delightful taste!”

10, 20 years on, when I look back on this day I hope I’ll still be saying  “those were the good old days.  And thank you for the present”.

Don’t Skirt the Issue

I was barely 20 and it was my first “real” job. After receiving the letter of appointment, I had to read a set of company rules I had to adhere to, one of which outlined the acceptable dress code for women.

Me: “I have an issue with one of the rules written here. It says here that all women should wear skirts.”
Mr. Manager: “Well, we’ve always had that rule. Just follow it.”

At that point in time, I really, really needed the job, so i didn’t argue. The problem was, I only had two office-worthy skirts then — a poorly-cut tulip skirt that made my bum look big and a frumpy brown pleated one that will make anyone‘s bum look big.

I didn’t have enough money to get a new wardrobe, so I worked out a schedule of sorts — I’d only wear skirts on days where I had to go on a meeting with the big bosses.

This went pretty well and the numerous times I got “caught with my pants on” were non-issues with the heads, all of whom were males (well, except for one lady who was rarely in the office) so after awhile, I stopped my skirt timetable altogether. Some of my longer-serving female colleagues initially questioned my brazen non-skirt-wearing attitude but then went into an “I wish I could wear trousers too” mode.

A few months after I started work there, the company appointed a new HR director. One of his first exercises was to talk to each and every employee.

Mr. HR Director: “… anything else you’d like to clarify?”
Me:”Um, there is this small thing… about wearing skirts. I don’t see why I have to conform to it.”
Mr. HR Director: “And I don’t see why you should!”

That dress code was apparently written when the company was formed in the 60s or 70s. And since no one had raised concern over it, it remained on the list 30 years later. Mr. HR Director said he’d see to the abolishment of the dress code (for both men and women) and though I didn’t really believe him then, I was quite happy to finally be able to talk to someone who wasn’t from the Dark Ages.

Weeks after that, one of my female colleagues was seen in a smart pair of slacks excitedly announcing that “it’s okay for women to wear trousers in the office now.” Well, well.

Zero or Max?

I passed by two large posters within steps of each other on my way home. The first one was that of Coke Zero, the second, Pepsi Max. I find it interesting how each company decides to market these similar products using different angles. One emphasises on the drink’s maximum taste (sans sugar), the other on the lack of calories (while retaining its original flavour):

Pepsi Max — Maximum Taste, No Sugar vs Coca-Calo Zero — Real Coke Taste, Zero Calories 

It could well be Pepsi None or Coke Full. Maybe even “Pepsi No!!!” or “Coke Real?”. I amuse myself with silly little thoughts sometimes.

Which do you prefer?

In Perspective

Yesterday was not one of the best days of my life.

I woke up late for an appointment. Got caught in the rain.
Fell smack on my butt. In the middle of a large crowd of kids. Twice.
Had to wait in line at two different queues for a total of 2 and a half hours.
I was so hungry all the while because the only thing I had eaten the whole day was a piece of bread.

By the time all that ended all I wanted was a nice, comforting plate of creamy pasta.

Went to the supermarket. Got a good deal on two packs of spaghetti and some sauces. Was feeling chuffed as I went back home. Got home and realised that I had left one of my shopping bags at the cashier’s counter. The one with all the ingredients I needed to cook my dinner.

Took 35 minutes to get to and back home from the supermarket. No longer in the mood to cook. Ended up having two burnt bagels for dinner (I set the oven timer 5 minutes too long).

At night I got news that one of my relatives is now jobless. The one I thought was in a secure, cushy position.

Then my brother called to say that his company is axing nearly a thousand workers next week. He said he’s losing sleep and hair over the news and asked whether I could recommend….. a shampoo to slow down hair loss. :o

Jobs can be replaced but hair loss is irreversible, he reasoned. That’s someone who got his priorities sorted out, though not in a typical order, I thought.

Yesterday was not one of the best days of my life. But it could have been worse. And for that, I’m thankful.

Things to Do on a Fine Day

Do you keep a “One Fine Day” list? I do.

It all started when I realised that my husband and I tend to put doing some things off till “one fine day” — see the polar bears at the zoo? Not today, maybe one fine day; one fine day we’ll watch Citizen Kane; today I don’t feel like checking out that new place, maybe another day, when the weather is fine.

I’ve started keeping a list on my computer called “One Fine Day” where I jot down activities we promise to do well, one fine day.

Of course life is best enjoyed without (much) planning but if we’re ever stumped with what to do on a fine, sunny Saturday, there’s always the list to refer to. So far, we’ve not yet find a need to do so but that’s also fine with me!