Seven days without an Internet access at home seemed ridiculous in this time and age, but it is not when the individuals who get paid to the job are incompetent. The first two days I almost worked myself into a ball of fury after hours of talking from one person and transferred to the next and they still couldn't solve the issue. It boil down to one thing, they are not on the same page. Everybody has different understanding (definitely not overstanding) on the same issue.
My biggest mistake was to assume that they knew what they were doing.
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I missed updating my blog, I missed reading my favorite bloggers entries but at home during those seven days/nights I did a lot reading to refresh my memory of work related boring materials about Motivational Interview, Working with Dual Diagnosis Chronic Homeless and a couple of similar subjects. This time I agree to a statement some people like to make: Things happen for reasons. As for me, those materials I read last week were like an afternoon shower in 85 degree early summer. It energized, centered and grounded me.
We've been getting many severe undiagnosed mental health issues client for the past a couple of months. And the last thing I want to experience while I am working is losing the enthusiasm and interest in what I am doing. Those materials, regular running and excercises, Sunday walk with Mama Z, accupuncture, plenty of time of quiet time have moved me forward in more ways that I could ever imagined.
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The last time I saw horseshoe crabs in close range was 45 years ago. I was six years old then. We were at grandmother's house in Penang and one day *Uncle Din Congo brought us a basketful of lives belangkas (horseshoe crabs.
Uncle Din Congo took them out of the rattan baskets and placed them on grandmother's red cement kitchen floor. While we the kids, shriek in fear, wondered and joy rolled into one to see the weirdest creature we never knew ever existed, Tok Uda (grandmother's madu) prepared to start the fire on wood burning stove in an extended kitchen.
And last Saturday, walking on Carson Beach on my way back after my morning run, about 20 meters ahead of me I saw something I already knew what it was. Clutching the camera in my hand I doubled my steps. My heart pounding in excitement, like a little girl I was 45 years ago when the first time I laid my eyes on belangkas. It was only the shell, but I was in heaven.
I turned it over and it was an empty shell. Then I noticed the body and the broken claws at the edge of water. a few meters away from the shell. I picked it up and put it back in the shell.
The sun was high, my damp shirt that clung to my back started to dry. The sea breeze swept my face and I sat on the beach staring at the dead belangkas for a long time.
I thought I had sands in my eyes, I removed my glasses and realised I cried. It wasn't a sad cry but more like longing to experience again the wonderful moments I felt 45 years ago, jumping and clappping my hands when the frist time I saw belangkas.
* I wrote an entry about Uncle Din Congo on September 27, 2007.
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