FUNNYACCENT

Soldiers of Heat

I notice a patch of dark clump on the brick side walk as I cross Appleton Street on Dartmouth Street. I couldn't make it out what it is, then I notice the patch sway like a wave. Two tiny lines spread from opposite side of the clump and move away from it. I don't remember when was the last time I saw soldier of ants like I see this morning.

When I was a kid I liked to watch them talking to each other. All the barrack houses we lived on army bases had little veranda. The front side of veranda was either  three foot wooden frame or brick wall.

These types of walls were ants favorite's type of zone they used to cross between from outside to inside the house. I would be on my stomach,  both hands under my chin and watched them climbing the veranda's wall.

There were always two ways traffic. In coming and outgoing flow. The outgoing flow carried food back to their nest. When an in coming ant came face to face with an outgoing ant, they stopped and exchanged greeting.

"How are you doin'?"

"What's going on?"

"How's life treating you?"

"Did you see the movie ANTS?"

"Hah.....hah.....hah....very funny."

I made up their chatting to my little brothers.  They became fascinated and joined me. Mak was in the kitchen, and when she didn't hear any noise coming from the veranda, she knew we were up to something.

"Ana............are you still there with your brothers?"

"Yes Mak, we are watching the ants."

She came out the veranda with a ladle in her hand to see what was going on.

"What are you doing?"

"Mak, Mak......ants talk Mak." My two brothers had just found out ants could talk.

"Hmmm....what are they saying? Do their mothers cook too?"

"SShhh........" My youngest brother put his finger on his lips.

"Ahhhhh........" Mak went back into the kitchen.

Three of us, flat on our stomachs watching the ants at work.

Ants have been on the Earth for more 100 million years. They must've seen it all.  The amazing thing is they can carry up to 40 times their weight. Imagine if the ants are five or six feet tall, I wonder what do they carry?

Underbaked Cookies.

The past two week s have been crazy. I'm too tired to do anything after I get home from work. I crumble like underbaked cookies, collapse on the sofa and fall asleep. And ohhh...ohhh...ohhh..... I snore when I'm dead tired.

The first time Buu told me I didn't believe him until he taped my not-so-loud-snore-but-it-was-still-a-snore and played it the next day.........ohh....welll......

I want to finish the piece about South End friend, but I'll wait until gain back my energy and my enthusiasm.

Getting Out of the Web

I wrote a few entries in the past about the women I work with at the House. Then I decided I'd better not to because I didn't want to be carried away and started to reveal too much about them. But......, there is but, when 1/3 out of my 24 hours I spend with them, it is hard not to think about them,not to care about them, not to wonder about them.

For the past seven years I've been working with women whose faces have become distorted images and their voices have reduced to whisper. They have fallen between the cracks of the system one by one, tangle in a loophole and trap in unaccountable webs. A few of them have made it, many of them are still stumble, moving from one shelter to another. I've worked with a few young women who grew up in numerous shelters because their mothers's addiction. Now these young women live in the shelter because of their own addiction. And they drag along their babies. 

Crystal Ball & Mind Readers

One of the biggest mistake we always make and we keep doing it over and over is making an assumption. We make an assumption about our loved ones, we make an assumption about our parents, siblings, relatives, neighbors,friends, peers and whoever comes across our paths. We even make an assumption about strangers we don't even know. Once we make an assumption, we reach to a conclusion and when we reach to a conclusion, we pass the judgement. And we move to the next person. We might not say it out loud, but the thought cross our minds.

Turn on the tv at any time the chances are we see Dr. Phil, Montel Williams and his guests, or Oprah talking and giving advice about relationship. Hundreds of 'How To..." have been written and published, women and men magazines on articles about relationship and yet, we are still screw up. Why is that? Which part of our brain is  loosely connected to motherboard or the cells shrink and wither and we can't even think first before we leap to a conclusion?

I think most of us if not all had cut our fingers when we were kids. After the first cut, we are careful with the knives. We don't jump into a lake before we test the water, deep? Shallow? Hot or Cold? Why can't our minds react the same way when it comes to passing a judgement?

Basically we know we think with both sides of our brain, but they process the information in different ways. The dominant side tend to be more active than the other side. One side process in logical, sequence manner while the other side favors on gut feeling or intuition.

We are like most people who assume our thinking process come naturally. We forget that throughout our lives we accumulate our experiences through five senses and decided that is how life is supposed to be. Anything that doesn't fit our description we determined that is not reality. We patch our life experiences in a little box and think this is life supposed to be.

When it comes to a relationship we always assume that our loved ones know what we are thinking. We expect them to read our minds. Shoot...........if we can't even figure it out what we want sometimes, how in heaven we expect they can figure us out?

So, how does this thinking process got to do with an assumption? Pay me no mind. I'm just bitching.

Listening to:Kirk Whalum, For You

Searching For Blueprint - 1

I was in South End earlier today to meet a woman I met in Drawing Class at Cambridge for Adult Learning Center four years ago. We had a good rapport during our ten weeks class. We kept in touch for about  eight months. One day I called her and all I heard was an automated voice said the line was no longer active.  I was baffled.

The next day I called her workplace. I was stunned when they told me she had quit her job three weeks ago and moved back to California. Three weeks ago? Three weeks ago, we were out at the Cambridge Galleria Mall. We sat outside on the bench sharing three  wicked finger licking di-lish-es cinnabons and sipping hot coffee. We waited for eight minutes to have a fresh-out-of-oven  cinnabons. While we ate we played What Is She/He Thinking game, the game she introduced to me when the first time we went out. Watch for their body languages, face expressions, hand gestures, the strides, body postures, hand swinging and so on.  We only observed a lone figure. Her reason: A person with an untamed mind, the mind tends to wander around aimlessly when she/her is alone. It was hilarious because we made up stories and ideas about the persons we were observing. The phone was still in my hand long after the man at her office hung up. I stared at the phone in my hand as it held  answers to my questions.

All the made up stories about the people we observed together jumped out to my mind one after another.The eerie part was her face was on all those people.  Was she running from something? Somebody? Was she hiding from a mob boyfriend? Psychotic husband? Was she a double agent? Multiple personalities? Running from a bounty hunter? When finally I decided to call a police to report her missing, I realized I didn't know much about her. I know whe was born in Pasadena, California. Her parents  died in a car accident when she was three. She lived in a series of foster homes since she was four, and that's about it. She didn't offer any explanation and I didn't ask.  And she never asked me any personal questions except my accent.

As I was sitting at my desk wondering what should I do next when the phone rang. I picked up the phone, I could feel the goose bumps sprouting out on my arms and neck as mushrooms  blooming after a night of thunderstorm. We didn't talk long, but long enough for me to understand and respect her wish. She apologized for leaving in such a way,  it was very inappropriate and disrespectful, she said. She assured me she wasn't being kidnapped or in danger situation, but she needed time to sort things out. God willing (the phrase she asked my permission to use it) we will meet again.  She was calm and even joked about she was going to miss our game.

It was the last time I heard from her until early this week when I was in the subway. The train was full. No room to go any farther inside the train. I stood near the closed door. As the loud whistle blew off , ready to move, a tall woman on the platform stepped forward to the door and slipped a piece of paper between a little gap of the door. I didn't have to look in the mirror to know the blood was drained from my face. I felt it. It was her. "Ana, called me." She mouthed the words, her right hand was up near her mouth, thumb and pinky extended and three middle fingers folded as a phone sign. Her left hand pushed the piece of paper through the gap. I snatched the paper, she stepped back as the train chucking its way into a darkness. I unfolded the paper, it was her neatly curved handwritten phone number.

She must've had seen me earlier and chose to wait until I boarded the train and gave me her phone number. She lost a considerable amount of weight since the last time I saw her three years ago.  She wasn't slender but thin in her 5' 10" body frame. Her thick auburn hair is cut short barely touching her shoulder.

After the dinner I called her. She picked up the phone on the first ring.

"What took you so long?" Was her greeting.

"I'm fine, thank you, and how about you? And @#%&**@#@$##@!*&***& (long explicit cussing) do you mean what took me so long, you're the one is supposed to answer the damn question?"

She thought it was hysterically funny she laughed so loud, she couldn't stop for full one minute.

"Oh.....Ana, you're so cute when  you're swearing".

After both of us calm down, she told me what she has been doing in Seattle  (not California as she told her workplace) all these years. Three hours later after I hung up and agreed to meet her on the weekend, I knew, if I put all  the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle, I would've a hell lot of a hard time to figure it out because there are so many pieces are still missing. But I left it at that. She isn't ready to share it with me. Maybe there is nothing to share. 

When I got off the train at Back Bay Station, she was standing at the far end of the platform. With a few long strides, we were in each others arms, hugging and crying.  "My Merciful Creator, I could count her ribs....what happened to her?"

I wiped my tears with my right palm, she wiped her tears with her right arm. We quietly walked up to the ground level.

"Let's walk up to my apartment, three streets from here, I brewed some French Vanilla before I left. Lets get some croissants at Au Bon Pain. I know you love croissants."

We crossed the street to Au Bon Pain and bought a half dozen croissants.

*Note: She knows about this blog and she gives me a permission to write about her without using her name.

**We walked up to Ming's Store on Washington Street to get a gallon of  soy milk. I took a picture of giant squid. The gentleman who is holding the squid hides his face.

Lets Ride On Turtle's Back

It was a hot day. Boy, it was so hot Turtle wished he could crawl out of his shell and jumped into the river. The water was  sparkling as there were diamonds at the bottom of the river.  He could feel his scutes  cracked under the blazing orange ball. The long, wild grass tickled his belly as  he slid down into the water. Aaahhhh........what a wonderful feeling, Turtle smiled to himself and let himself flowed with the smooth current.

He backstroke, he butterflied, he breastroked, he free-styled and he used all the swimming techniques he knew. The heat from the sun and the cool of the water beneath the surface made Turtle felt giddy. He hadn't had this fun for a long time. He closed his eyes and let himself bobbed up and down in the heavenly water.

Turtle didn't have ears, but he had an ability to to perceive low frequency sounds and vibrations especially when he is in water. He could tell something out there on the river bank by the way a gentle water turned into a slap to his shell. something was out there breathing and waiting. Turtle had many gifts too, one of them was his powerful sense of smell. He tried to picture every thing that he knew off that had stinking, rotten smell.  Rotten cabbages? Rotten eggs thrown into flame?

"Mr. Turtle......, Mr. Turtle.........hello there"

Turtle kept his eyes closed, wanted to stay in the magic water as long as he could. He hoped the voice would go away if he pretended not to hear it.

"Mt. Turtle, Mr. Turtle, don't tell me you don't hear me. I know you can hear me." The coarse voice was persistence. Besides the smell of burnt rotten egg forced him to open his eyes.

Turtle shook his head a few times to clear the water from his eyes. He focused on the dark object sat on a rotting bark on the bank of the driver. Two menace looking crab-like claws hung down from the side of the face where unmoving pair of eyes located. It was bark-like thick tail scorpion. A venomous scorpion he ever known. What is he doing out here in the middle of the day? He is the creature of the night.

Then he realized where the stinking-burnt-rotten-egg smell came from. Scorpion's tail arched all the way from its back, swinging from left to right. The smell of its venom came from the tip of its swinging tail. Turtle's heart skipped not one but two beats.

"So, what do you think Mr. Turtle, can you carry me over to the other side of the river?"

"Oh......excuse me, I was day dreaming, what did you say, Mr. Scorpion."

"Hah...hah....hah.....I know you're a romantic dreamer," Scorpion's tail wagged even faster, his second and third pairs of eyes bore into Turtle's eyes. "I asked you to carry me on your back to the other side of the river."

"I'm just a small creature, you won't feel a thing." Without giving a chance for Turtle to open his As being hypnotized Turtle paddled closer to the river bank.  For a split second, he heard the voice in his head to be mouth, Scorpion slithered down from the bark toward the edge of the river bank.

"Move closer, so I won't fall into the water. You know I can't swim." Scorpion talked to him as they were good buddies. Be careful, watch out, but ignored the voice in his head. Instead he moved closer to the river bank and extended his flipper to stabilized his body's movement.

With one quick move, Scorpion jumped onto Turtle's back. Turtle propelled his front flippers forward and his back flippers acted as rudders. Within few seconds, they were on the other side of the river. Turtle chose the narrowest gap between the water and the river bank, where Scorpion wouldn't be getting wet.

"You're safe now, Mr. Scorpion."

"You're so kind Mr. Turtle, how can I thank you?"

As Turtle saw the shadow of Scorpion's body moved in slow motion onto the river bank, he felt a needle sharp pain on his neck.  Turtle thought it was the heat from the sun. But when a needle sharp pain turned into hundreds of needles sharp pain, he knew it wasn't from the sun stroke. The burning sensation crept up to his face. The tremors in his face muscles spread to his front flippers. His heart beat faster than usual. He tried seim away from the river bank, but his stiff flippers turned into jelly like object. He was losing his muscles coordination. He forced himself to contract his muscles in his stomach for his lungs to expand, so he could take as much air as I could. None of his lungs was working.

The sweet water didn't taste sweet anymore. He couldn't even swallow the water.  He looked at Scorpion, sitting under the sun on the green grass, looking down at him with an expression Tulle couldn't decipher.

Turtle felt his body was getting heavier. There was nothing he could do. He knew the time had come. He thought about his ancestors had been around this earth for over 225 million years. 

Your ancestors had been around 400 years, way longer than mine. We're well adapted species Scorpion. We survived the natural disasters. Why did you do it. We never crossed the path before. I didn't even know you until today............My lifespan is forty years , so my time ahs arrived.....

Before he totally submerged, Turtle looked at Scorpion for the last time.

"Why Scorpion?"

"Your ancestors had been around for 250 years and you haven't learned anything? It's our nature."

This is the story I like to share with my clients when they come to me to unload their frustrations, their disappointments, their unmet expectations towards their  families, siblings, husbands, boyfriends, best friends and their peers. They are angry and feel betrayed. And they want a revenge.

"Give me one good reason why you want to do it."

"It makes me feel good."

"For how long?"

"What do you mean for how long?"

"How long will it make you feel good? One hour? One day" One week? One month? And then what?"

Sometimes they get it when they hear the story, sometimes it takes  for a while to sink into their system.  Sometimes they're not ready to learn. I'm not much different from them too. Sometimes it is hard to say no to your flesh and blood. They are thousands miles away from me,  it is easy to say no because I don't see their welfare faces. But how about a person whose heart as pure as natural pearl who lives a few blocks away? or a few hours drive away?

Where Are They?

Imported Canned Food from Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Taiwan.......

Heaven Is Where I Am Now

When I wake up around four this morning to get a glass of water, I push the bedroom window wider to let the morning breeze in. As my eyelids getting heavier, I could hear the wind glide outside my window. I pull my quilted comforter up to my chin and fall asleep instantly.

I wake up at 6:30 and brew a pot of pumpkin spice coffee. While waiting for my coffee, I continue to write in my hand-written journal. This is my second journal of year 2005. I write every day, sometimes twice a day in the first journal of this year. When I flip the pages and read some of the entries, I ask myself, did I write this gibberish? Like a person in the middle of high fever, incoherence sentences, like a roomful of people, everybody is talking at the same time and nobody is listening.

But, I know if I read again, this time with more intimate, I could decipher those chaotic words and sentences.

We don't have plan for today, but I'm looking forward to have a quiet day. Reading  Sunday Globe maybe, or start a new book (read), or continue to work on my two swans quilt comforter. As I sip my coffee, my mind is wandering inside the refrigerator. When I put down my cup, and half of the coffee is gone, I already have an idea about the dinner. Yessss........, lamb chop and nasi briani (briani rice).

I'm not sure I use the right combination of spices for briani rice. I just throw a little of ground cardamon, ground nutmeg, cinnamon stick and ground fennel. Instead of three cups of water, I switch to two cups of water and a cup of evaporated milk. When the rice is almost cook, I throw in a handful of cashew nut and raisins. 

I chop two mangoes and add a tablespoon of chillies, and sweet onion, and put on top of broiled lamb chop. I marinate lamb chop with a combination of pureed lemon grass, fresh ginger, garlic and onion. For magnesium source which both of us need it, I wilt a bag of spinach in a pan with high heat. I minimize the water and sprinkle a combination of paprika, parsley and orange peel. And wallah........we have a lazat dinner.

Life Goes On

It has been a few months since I went to Harvard Square, probably three months ago to get my vitamin and body products at Harnett's. It is a little chilly for summer mid morning, but the sun is high in the sky when I get off the subway. Four Subway Police in black uniform scatter among the subway riders. They are back.

When I come out of the station on the ground level, a man and a woman are putting up the banner The world can't wait..........  The third man is organizing the pamphlets and fliers on the table. A few people stop by their table and chat with them.

It's only 10:00 a.m, wait for another hours, the place will be crowded with tourists, students, street musicians, artists, and clowns. If you enjoy watching people, Harvard Square is a fun place to do it.

I cross the street and walk into Harvard Co-Op Bookstore. They left me a message on Friday about the books I ordered. With a cup of chai latte in my hand, I begin my booksfondling (yes, that's what B says when ever I'm at the bookstores) from the second floor, up to third floor and back to ground floor.

Three hours later when I leave the store, the sidewalks are brimming with people. I cross the street to the subway station. Three beautiful girls sit on the blanket with the merchandise in front of them. They sell hand made bead hair pins, bracelets, berets, necklaces and ear rings . Beautiful artistic work. I ask their permission to take their pictures. I hope they make a good sale.

Retard

How do I work with a grown-up woman on daily basis who doesn't have a milligram of commonsense ? How do I talk to a grown up woman who refuses or fails to see her slacking and gets very defensive and verbally aggressive? This is a woman who bore five children aged between 20-26. Recently her youngest daughter gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, her fifth grandchildren.

This is a woman gifted with beautiful voice, a part-time DJ on our local radio station.  This a woman the clients refuse to sit down with her during their nightly reflection talk because she is so stupid, she doesn't have an ability to make a decision as one of the clients bluntly put it out.

This is the woman who said to me on my first day at work 18 months ago:

"How do Chinese women have slim body? Can you teach me some of Chinese dishes? There must be something in your food that make you people petite."

"Come again?"

"Yes, I'm curious, look at you, you're so slim. You got to tell me your secret, Chinese ancient secret."

"You got to ask Chinese women what they eat."

"Oh...you're not Chinese? But you're Asian."

"Asians doesn't make Chinese. I might be Indian, Ceylonese, Nepalese, Korean, Japanese, Indonesian, Tibetan, Vietnamese, and most of all I'm Malaysian."

"Oh........I'm sorry, but you said about Indian, do you mean a native Indian? How did the native Indians get there?"

Right there, right that moment, I knew I was talking to a mentally challenge grown-up woman. I stay away from her most of the time if I could help it.

Did her mother drop her on her head when she was a baby?

I wonder if I should print out this site and give it to her.