Dear Loss,
Thank you for letting us get a glimpse of what you could be like the other day. That really jolted us into realising what an amazing thing we have. Thank you for not arriving and we hope to never, ever see you. Because just the thought of you is enough to straighten us up.
With much awe,
~n.a.~
I love Leah’s idea at THX THX THX so much, here’s me at it again.
Dear Mondays,
Thank you so much for being my Sundays, when I have some time for myself; but also can run errands if need be, because the bank and all other services are open. Thanks for also allowing me to pretend to be a hard-working person when I choose to go to the office, while in actuality I’m just AT work, but spent all day talking on the phone to friends and updating photos on Facebook, because you’re my Sundays after all.
Here’s to many more of you to come.
Hugs,
~amy~
I just found out about this lovely blog via MamaMia’s site: THX THX THX by Leah Dieterich. It’s a collection of daily thank-you notes to anyone and anything. What’s even better is that they’re all hand-written! Quirky, creative, and very, very cute. Check it out.
Well, in the spirit of saying thanks, I’d like to include this:
Dear my hair,
Thank you for stubbornly sticking out on one side of my head this morning and making it look like a frayed peeled coconut, just before I had to catch up with my lovely friends for lunch. You made me realise that they don’t care much for how you look, or I look, for that matter, but enjoy my company regardless.
Lots of thanks and love,
~T2~
I got this email just now, together with a .zip file so reeking of virus, that even a chimpanzee wouldn’t be so stupid as to open it.
From: Your Facebook Team [mailto:customer.service@facebook.com]
Sent: Friday, 19 March 2010 9:46 AM
To: info@…
Subject: Facebook Password Reset Confirmation NR.81751
Hey info ,
Because of the measures taken to provide safety to our clients, your password has been changed.
You can find your new password in attached document.
Thanks,
The Facebook Team.
Who do they think we are? Idiots? If they were gonna spam / scam people, at least put in an effort, fake a little better. “Hey info ,”?! “THE Facebook Team”?! It’s just gag-inducing! There really is no ends to stupidity. It’s trash like these that makes me grateful for possessing at least a little bit of brain in my skull.
Happy Friday, folks!
~tea~
I was doing my morning round of news websites and ran across this article: “Wondrous vision of capitalism with a conscience” about Muhammad Yunus, the winner of Nobel Peace Price in 2006. Truly inspiring!
Because conventional corporations are an outgrowth of only one aspect of the human being, he argues: “The part they appeal to is selfishness. But humans also have a selfless part, and social business is an expression of that part. The two only make sense together.
“I can make my mark in the world, not just money. At the end of my life, has it been worth living? At the moment, you spend your life stacking up money and goodbye. And that’s it?”
With that, I started a day.
~t~
I just have to write down this rant in response to a friend’s complaint about losing count of her newly (but obviously not fondly) found grey hair. Because I’ve got the same gripe. When it comes to growing err… less-young, I can handle wrinkles – laugh lines and crow’s feet and whatnots, they’re alright. But grey hair! I really don’t like them. We just don’t click, you know. About a year ago I noticed a few strands sprouting up on my own head. There were not that many and they could still be counted on my fingers, and funnily enough, are always found in the same spots. So consistent are they about their “locations” (must have been blue-chips) that I can track them down and serve them an eviction notice even before they get to an inch in length.
But then. But then last week I got my hair cut really short and holy keratin! There are so many more of the darn things and they are now more visible. Still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, they just sprung on me like THAT! Poof! There they are. How magical! Like they got together just before my 30th and schemed up an evil plan, nodding their little grey (!) heads to each other, listen up now guys, tomorrow is the day! Zero hour fast approaching! Aaaaand… STRIKE! And so here I am, with what feels like a million of them, fighting for territory. The other day I asked m’ to help me get back at them with a pair of tweezers and she was so distressed, she had to stop after 5 strands. And I was like, What? Why are YOU upset? It’s me who’s going bold here! Keep at it! She must have been seeing her own future. My poor baby!
So well, a few weeks ago I was boasting to some friends, about how being in one’s 30’s feels so much better than one’s 20’s, and that I’ve only been down this road for 3 months and I could already relate to that. Is it ironic, now, if I publish an amendment, that yeah, it’d be so true, if it wasn’t for the stupid party-poopers that are grey hair?
~already more than happy with my pepper, stop sending me salt!~
Phải công nhận, 8 đồng rưỡi bỏ ra mua cái khuôn bánh khọt là phi vụ đầu tư có lời nhất của mình trong mấy tháng qua! Bốn bữa rồi ngày ăn bánh khọt hai lần mà còn chưa ngán. Tuy nhiên sau đợt Tết ăn bánh chưng tới mức lúc đứng lên sắp không tự dòm thấy được ngón chưn, thì giờ nguy cơ béo phì lại đang rình rập. Làm bánh khọt nhớ hồi nhỏ học lớp 5 lớp 6, suốt ngày lúp xúp với mấy đứa em đổ bánh khọt, làm mứt thơm, làm bánh tiêu không phồng. (Số là vì đi cả vòng chợ Tân Định hỏi mua bột nổi mà không ai bán, nên đủ hết các thành phần, mùi vị y như tiệm, nhưng chỉ mỗi tội cái bánh tiêu nhỏ xíu như trái banh bóng bàn, đặc quánh, chiên lên nhai rau ráu.)
Thôi hẹn mấy tuần nữa rảnh rảnh, rủ đám lau nhau bạn mình qua xơi bánh khọt tiếp! hê hê…
~nước dừa~
I talk of grand plans. Of achieving the world, winning the world, conquering the world. Well, okay, not really. Completely forgot for a moment there that I wasn’t Caesar. But at least, of travelling the world. Of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling a good chunk of it, while I’m still on it. But nothing, nothing can ever compare to seeing my parents, to see them smile, frown, laugh, raise eyebrows. To hear them talk, scold, joke, raise voices. To hug them & kiss them, hold Mum’s hand and pat Dad’s tummy. Even if it means now and again there’d be arguments, err… I mean, disagreement. For it’s unlikely that they will ever stop pressuring, nor will I ever stop rebelling. For they’re the parents and I the first born. It’s our job, isn’t it, to uphold stereotypes? 😉
So I made a pact with myself, to stop by and see them every time I go on a major trip. Even if only for a short time. And frankly, short times are often sweeter, before we run out of patience for each other. I have done that the last few times (twice to China & once to the US), and will try my best to keep it up. How’s that for the best plan of the year, hey?
~bm~
Two of my favourite columnists, no, actually, my only two favourite columnists (so far), are Catherine Deveny & Danny Katz. Both of whom write for The Age, with much wit, humour, and razor-sharp observations; although in two very different writing styles. This week Catherine threw some new arguments into a much debated question: Why are our children still given their father’s surname, almost always by default?
I don’t have an answer to that. Or more accurately, I’m too confused by my own conflicting opinions, and outraged at some of the appalling comments following Catherine’s article, to give you a straight response. But it did bring to mind the first time I read Totto-chan (a beautiful Japanese children’s book, one of my most loved, most read, most quoted books ever) and learned that the young girl Totto-chan’s father had decided to adopt his wife’s surname, and that Totto-chan would then inherit her mother’s surname. I recalled being puzzled, but very glad. How’s that for gender equality, hey?
In Vietnam women don’t change their surnames after marriage, although she will be called as part of a “Mr. and Mrs. [Husband’s name]”; but the offspring would ALWAYS get the father’s family name. Except, maybe, in the case of single mums. It is how it is and as far as I’m aware, no one has ever cared, or dared, question it! One can only imagine the uproar that may cause in such a conservative society.
People seems to have been doing the hyphenate things for years, but I’m a little doubtful of the practicality of such practice (pun intended). What if two people both with hyphenated surnames have children? Will the kids end up with four surnames, three hyphens, and many, many nights staying up late wondering what have they done to deserve that? So no, the hyphen thing won’t work for me.
Recently the trend, in Australia and a few other Western countries, seems to be that new parents are giving their daughters the mother’s surname, and their sons the father’s. Or sometimes the other way around. I kinda like that idea. Although how applicable will it be to our situation? Will I even want to raise the question? If Mr. Man and I have kids then will it be a little wacky for some to have an Asian surname, the others English? Will it be a tad “separatist”? Will our wee sprogs grow up with identity issues?
I simply don’t know. Ask me back in a few years. Maybe.
~rose~
We’re seeing “The Merchants of Bollywood” tonight. Mr. Man said he is ‘looking forward to lots of pent up dancing and high emotion.’ Me, I can’t wait to see all the bright costumes and hear the heart-thumping, muscle-twitching music! Will try not to get kicked out mid-show for shimmying too much in my seat.
Also, this Sunday we’re heading to the NGV to see Ron Mueck’s awe-inspiring creations. It’s open till 9pm (28 Feb) if anyone’s interested. Prepare to rummage around on the floor looking for your dropped jaws. Or maybe leave them there to be mistaken for part of the collection. Imagine that!
~t2~
Amy's little soap box 