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Monday, September 06, 2004
Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
I See A Red Bird Looking At Me
Red Bird, Red Bird, What Do You See?
I See a Yellow DUck Looking At ME
Yellow Duck, Yellow DUck, What Do You See?
I See A Blue Horse Looking At Me
Blue Horse, Blue Horse, What Do You See?
I See A Green Frog Looking At Me
Green Frog, Green Frog, What Do You See?
I See A Purple Cat Looking At Me
Purple Cat, Purple Cat, What Do You See?
I See A White Dog Looking At Me
WHite Dog, White Dog, What Do You See?
I See A Black Sheep Looking At Me
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, What Do you See?
I See A Goldfish Looking At Me
Goldfish, Goldfish, What Do You See?
I See A Monkey Looking At Me
Monkey, Monkey, What Do You See?
I See Children Looking At Me
Children, Children, What Do You See?
We See A Red Bird, A Yellow Duck, A Blue Horse, A Green Frog, A Purple Cat, A White Dog, A Black Sheep, A GOldfish, A Monkey Looking At Us, That's What We See.
(Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See? -- Eric Carle & Bill Martin)
I have been reading this book to my youngest son for the past 10 months. He is going to be three in October. After reading the book thrice to him, he was able to read the book by himself and began recognizing . It's Amazing How Good Books Can Change Your Kid's Life. To those of you who are still looking for good books to read to your young kids, I would strongly recommend this book. Of couse, my 3 year old kid also loves other books by Eric Carle, such as 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' (which his elder brother -- my 5 year old son read at his school at the age of 4), and 'Polar Bear, Polar Bear What Do You Hear?' Admittedly, my 3 year old still doesn't recognize all the 26 letters. Blame it on my lack of patience. I know he is interested to learn the letters. He keeps on asking me to say out loud the letters. I try my best most of time, but I am too knackered to read with him more than an hour or so a day. Yeah, I know I am lousy mother. The point I am making here, however, is that how good books can still attract kids despite all the hypes about the negative influence of TV and PS2/Game Station on the new generation. I hold to the belief that it is the parents -- namely the mother (why mom and not dad -- BECAUSE the truth is kids prefer to learn/read with their moms, I am not saying that Dads are not as Good -- in my case anyway) who is able to influence the kids' choice in learning. Different people have different approaches in teaching their kids to read. I prefer taking the reverse psychology approach i.e. by not forcing them to read at an early age but by showing them the enjoyment that they can get from reading. We have heard the cliche that says action speaks louder than words. If we want our kids to read, we have to read first. Not just by reading the newspaper or magazines, but by reading books. Kids are curious, sooner or later, they would want to know what is so special about the books that their mom is reading that she prefers to read that book instead of watching the telly 7-11. You know what I mean! Nowadays, I find it difficult to read my books because my kids would make me read their books before they let me go back to the fantasy life that I have been devouring before their intrusion. I don't know how long my kids are going to have this interest to read but I do hope that it is going to be many many more years...
Other books that my kids love:
Dr. Seuss's Collection -- The Cat in the Hat, Silly Opposites, Hop Up, ABCs
P.D. Eastman -- Are You My Mother?
David Bedford -- Mo's Smelly Jumper
Kim Lewis -- Baa
Julia Donaldson - The Gruffalo
Claire Freedman -- Dilly Duckling
Charles Fuge -- My Dad!
Beth Shoshan -- Little Rabbit Waits For the Moon
Sandra Boynton's Collections
Thomas and Friends' Collections (My Five Year Old is Crazy about Thomas and Friends)
I wonder whether we have similar quality books in Malay language. Books that play with sound, colour and pictures. Any ideas?
Posted at 05:14 am by Picadilly
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Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Sedih sungguh hari ini. Last day I will be seeing my supervisor Dr. Keith H. We will be having a farewell dinner tonite with his other two supervicees. Most probably at an Italian restaurant. Tak tahu lagi how it's going to be. It has been pouring since 4 p.m. and I am not keen on the idea of going out in this kind of weather. Not my cup of tea, anyway. A friend of mine, Chempakasari wondered why I should feel so sad of the idea of my supervisor resigning from his post. I know that I have often left people with the impression that my supervisor can be a slave driver some of the time (or should I say most of the time) and that he is quite strict in his own way. But I can't deny that he has been a wonderful supervisor. He is honest, fair, non-judmental and most of the time he believes in me more than I believe in myself. Those weekly meetings we had did help to lift up my somewhat fledgling spirit. Now that he is gone, I wonder who will pull me up when I am way way down -- buried under all the emotions and clearly plain laziness!
Thanks Keith.
Posted at 09:55 am by Picadilly
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Wednesday, August 11, 2004
How Do I love Thee ? Let me count the ways
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
Posted at 05:03 pm by Picadilly
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Thursday, August 05, 2004
:: Try As Try Can Be
Posted at 06:25 pm by Picadilly
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Today, I watched Dilwale Le Dunia Le Jayenge again after 6 years (?). Yeah, I know some might raise their eyebrows and say, 'Argh... this woman, when is she going to wake up and realize that there is more in life than Hindi movies.' I just couldn't help it. Lately, I find some kind of solace and peace when I watch Shah Rukh Khan and friends in movies. Not that I am reminiscing the past or my so called 'youth.' Somehow, watching the movies allows me to escape to another world -- a world where there is no limit, a world where things just happen as it ought to happen. In other words, I am trying to re-capture another life in another world. I know it doesn't make sense. But the 2 1/2 - 3 hours spent watching the movies has given me the space -- enough space -- to dream (to ignore the truth of reality, more likely). Talk about living the life of our dream. Let's be honest to ourselves, how many of us in this world is truly living out their dream life. To start off, each of us has different expectations in life and none of us is ever truly happy with what God has given us. If we are truly 'satisfied' with what or who with are, then why did we 'scrub' our face with some branded cleanser in the evenings (and not with some common soaps, or better still with plain water), why did we bother spending a lot of money on cosmetics, on beautiful or should I re-phrase it, 'presentable' clothes, why do we ( I am talking about women, most women anyway) worry about what to wear the next day or next week. The list is endless. We make all kinds of tremendous efforts to make sure that we look good (for ourselves, of course). We make sure that we don't have smudged lipstics on our lips(before we have a meeting in our boss's office, in my case, before I meet my supervisor), we practise smiling in front of the mirrors whenever we see a mirror ( I do it anyway) and we go through all this rituals (sometimes unreasonable to some other people) day in, day out, regardless of the ocassion. We do it anyway, not really because we want to look pretty to others (in my case, what is the use of me looking good for my supervisor: I am happily married :-); my supervisor certainly doesn't look twice at me) but because we want to maintain law and order in our life. Because we don't want to do things that violate other people's notion of norms. Clearly, to most of us, we don't want to be ostracized, just because we are different. Where all these regularities are concerned, some of us do it extremely well, some of us pass with flying colours and some try their best but don't really expect to maintain the regularities very well. As long as people don't give you that odd look, you feel 'safe' with the thought that you are doing OK. Yeah.. But do we really live out our dream life -- which is not necessarily perfect. Never in my life have I ever imagined that I am going to look the way I am today. Honestly, how would I know that I would be graced with all these extra fat after having two kids. Spots on face at the age of 32 or is it 31? Somedays I can't even remember how old I am. My dream life doesn't include that part where I have to wash my kids' bottom. It certainly doesn't entail daily rituals like cooking or hoovering the carpet. I can go on and on about the many parts that are excluded in my dream life or what I would imagine my life should be. The truth is we live our life as it is. We can plan for tomorrow, but we never know what is going to happen the next day. Just like how would I know that the Central Library of Manchester does have Hindi Movies that we can rent for GBP 1 for a week. It's just my luck that I found Dilwale Le Dunie Le Jayenge yesterday at the DVD Rack. I was meant to watch the movie anyway. And indeed watching the movie makes me think how awful Shah Rukh Khan looks when he was younger. I also notice that Kajol has a very smooth complexion in the movie (is it the real thing or just loads of foundation). I also notice several things that I have not noticed before when watching the movie. That's another story of course. I find it interesting that DDLJ means ''Come ..find love." The English subtitling is good. Honestly, the movie reads better in English subtitles than Malay. I understand the dialogues much better and the lyrics of the songs, beautiful poetry that touches your innermost feelings. Try watching! What the movie leaves me with at the end is that -- you have many choices in life. Like the character Raj Maholtra says 'The are two paths in life --the right and the wrong path.' The right path might present you with a lot of hurdles but you will find success in the end. The wrong path is smooth and easy but you will not succeed in the end (you may not find happiness in it). It reminds me of Robert Frost's poem ' The Road Not Taken.' In life, some of us prefer the smooth and easy way. When given a task, we always ask 'Is it easy to do it? Or is there an easier way to do it?' It doesn't matter how the task is accomplished, as long as we can get it done in a short time without much hassle. What do we get at the end? More profit, more money, praises from our colleages, superiors, excellent service reward. How about True Satisfaction? Knowledge? How often do we feel satisfied with a job that we do? Frankly, not often, right. We always tell ourselves that we could have done better if given the second chance. Does it mean then that we have not chosen the right path? :-P
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the differece. -- Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
Posted at 05:13 pm by Picadilly
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Sunday, August 01, 2004
We watched Spiderman 2 today. Watched it on the computer. I know it should make us feel bad. Bad because we watch it for free. Hubby downloaded the movie from the internet and presto, there it is. I cannot really say it is free. Nothing is free in this world. It is not really free considering that every month we still have to pay our broadband service (hubby has to pay anyway). For once I agree with others who claim that this movie is different from the first Spiderman movie. I find it to be very different, not only because the technology used is not imposed too much on us (if you can still remember the annoying little boxes and unrealistic movements they made us watched in the First movie) but also because the movie makes use of loads of human interest. Spiderman (the character) is made to be vulnerable like us -- the non-superheroes. I find many moments in the movie -- very touching and believable. Even that bit when Peter Parker is willing to sacrifice his right to love for fear of exposing MJ the risks and wrath of his enemies. In real life, we can't really say.. Does it really happen in life? Does one really sacrifice one's love so that other people will live a better life? You think so? I for one doesn't believe that people -- I mean today's society anyway -- are willing to sacrifice their love -- happiness -- for others. Apart of course for people who are pushed to the corner, to their limit, people who are abused physically/mentally (that's a different issue, more political I would say). We always grab the chance, when opportunity presents itself, we rarely (if ever) say NO. And when the matter concerned is the matter of heart, we become selfish, greedy. We try whatever tactics/strategies there are to win over the guy (girl) that we like. We are willing to do anything and everything, even play dirty, some say. A friend of mine once said to me, 'May the best woman win,' when she felt that I was 'competing' with her to get this guy that she really liked. We were young and stupid, anyway. That guy was really, seriously not worth fighting for. Blame it on the fact that both of us (the contenders) came from all girls school. You know how it was. Why is it that when we are in love, the outer life appears to stop revolving? Why is it that we seem to be blind and deaf to what others think of us or our partner? In some ocassions, we make others shed tears because of us, like other friends who are unhappy because we rob them off 'their potential life partner', parents who probably have their own plans; their own preference -- better looking, better salaried future son-in-law. It is ironic, because at the end of all this tears, broken hearts, turmoils, conflicts -- we realize that whom we fall in love with is not really who we want/hope for in reality (that explains the rising rate of divorce/separation). Sometimes we realize that we actually fall in love with the notion of love itself. And when that person (that we thought we are in love with doesn't meet our expectations) all hell break loose. My mom once said to me, You should not trust your husband 100% and that it is better for your husband to love you more.' Those who know my mom (my little sis, and hubby included) know that my mom is not a talkative person. So, when she says this -- I took it as 'wisdom' from the elder. More like a diamond since it came from a 'heavy mouth' person like my mom. I don't know whether she is alluding to her relationship with my dad but I have problem with not trusting your hubby 100%. Even the notion that let your hubby loves you more is difficult to reconcile with. Well, if trust doesn't form the foundation of a marriage, what is to become of the marriage after 10 years. The husband find another woman, the wife finds a replacement? Or do they start screaming at each other? Or worst still, stop talking to one another? Can we really live with a guy who loves us (us- wife, anyway) more than we love him? Does this mean, having a husband who pays for all the house bills, husband who worships the ground that move under his wife's precious feet, a husband who literally stifles the wife, anyway, because, MAN I have so much love for my wife...I know that the love is unquantifiable. Before I had Firdaus, I was worried that I couldn't love him as much as I love Arief because I thought that I only have one heart, I can only truly love few people-- I felt then that it's going to be difficult to love so many people -- to really care. Thought that it's enough to love my family (parents, siblings), hubby and Arief. It was after I had Firdaus that I realize that I have so much love to give, that at times my emotions would run wild -- this overflowing love is something that you can't control. Just like that morning, in 1998, when I was crossing the road at Ulu Klang, it suddenly dawned to me that if something happened to my hubby, I would go crazy. I would do something crazy to myself, anyway. That was when I realized that money is not that important (it is impartant but not most important). That having my hubby with me by my side -- for me to look at in the morning and at night -- is utterly important. More important than anything else in life that I was willing to leave the security blanket, leaving the city that I grew up with, leaving my close friends, familiiar territory. Making a huge leap, a sacrifice of having to start over -- all over again. Meeting new faces, getting used to the backwater place wih limited facilities, bearing the brunt of not having a driving licence (you don't need one if you are living in KL, anyway, why bother adding to the pollution, so I am telling myself). I still feel that way until today. Does that mean that I love my hubby more than he loves me, mom? Would I still fight for love in the future? Or do I sacrifice my love like Spiderman? I am not a superhero -- that's for sure and I don't need a superlove, what I need is just enough. Enough to make me smile everyday, enough to make me sane. Just enough.
Posted at 07:00 pm by Picadilly
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Tuesday, July 06, 2004
I went to this guided tour (the Scots pronounced it as 'guee' 'det' 'two' 'err') at St. Mary King's Close, at Royal Mile, Edinburgh with my friend Michela last weekend. It cost me 6 quids and since I had not much option. What with the rain pouring and me already halfsoaked, I decided to give it a go. Being me, I was very cynical of the idea of having this make belief tour to the 16th century. Kept on telling Michie that I hoped that it's worth it and that we will get something out of it. Seriously... I kept on thinking about all those trips/so called educational tours that I had been to (yeah, I know they are not really that many) and deep down in my heart I thought that I was going to be cheated again.
Hah...little did I know what was waiting for me. Words can never be adequate to describe the experience. For those of you who have read Jude Deveroux, Julie Garwood, and historical romances, you probably have an idea of the medieval period but I can tell you, seeing and 'living' the period is totally out of the world experience. I am probably naive or too inexperiece, but I have never been struck dumb before with what I see/saw. But the guided tour left me speechless and most of the time, breathless. It was a paradox, I didn't want the 1 hour tour to end and I can't wait for the tour to end as well. I am not good at describing but here goes ....
We were taken to the basement (I assumed it was a basement). Underneath the basement, it was a different world. It was very dark, mind you, the building was real (no polysterene or film-made products). What I saw around me were 14th -16th century buildings. I explored several rooms which were untouched (meaning: no modifications were made) and the guide told us the story of the buildings and Mary King's Close. The rooms were small in size and height. I didn't have to bend my head but other tourists had to. We were told that the medieval people were short and small in size and that explained the size of the rooms. The buildings were 3-storey apartment with the poor people living on the ground floor, middle class occupying the 2nd floor and the better salaried people occupying the 3rd floor. The ground floor apartment has only one room which I was told normally housed as many as 16 people at a time. Imagine 16 people sharing a small room and they had to do their 'business' in a bucket and their faeces were thrown outside their house. These people would shout 'Girdaloo' (or something similar) and other people (their neighbours) would know that the unwanted dirt was about to be thrown out. Yuckksss.... But that's how they did it in the past. The dirt would seep in the road and people would just walk on them. Talk about being hygenic. I just don't understand why these people can't devise a better way to get rid of their dirt. Now what really brought tears to my eyes is the fact that these people didn't get to see the sunlight. Honestly. that was what I was told. NO SUNLIGHT allowed. Only rich people could afford to have sunlight because in the past, these people had to pay taxes to get some sun. That's where the expression 'Daylight Robbery' came from. Edinburgh was an overcrowded city during the medieval period and living expenses were very high during that time. I also went to a room to 'experience' the bubonic plague. We were told how the poor people suffered most and during the time when anaesthetic didn't exist, the patients had to endure a lot more pain in order to be cured. You wouldn't want me to give me the details. Trust me, Horrific.
All in all, the tour has taught me to look at the medieval period differently and the next time I read historical romances, I will definitely appreciate life in the 14th - 17th century.
Posted at 03:16 am by Picadilly
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Saturday, June 26, 2004
Sehari di Museum of Childhood
I went to the Museum of Childhood at Royal Mile yesterday to look up for information on my research. What I found there was utterly amazing and many times I found myself experiencing some sort of deja vu especially when I looked at the items on display. Who would have thought that they would be able to time travel (in a sense, yes) and look at things that were once used in their lives. At one point I felt like crying -- somehow I felt very emotional, especially when I look at the old books, report cards, desks, chairs and many others that were so similar to the ones that I used when I was young.
The visit is definitely an eye-opener for me, anyway. I learned a lot of new things like, in the past children were forced to work. Of course, reading Dicken's Oliver Twist will tell you that. And certainly, most historical books will tell you pretty much the same thing. But to be able to see those photos and equipment that the chidren used was so heart renching. I can't imagine myself being subjected to a similar hardship. The children in the past (in the European context though) didn't have a past. It get me to think about children in Malay peninsular in the 17th/18th century. I wonder whether there has been any studies done on childhood or children in the past. It's also kind of funny to learn that the boys in the 19th century (1860 onwards) wore dresses like girls -- with three-quarter length sleeves and pleated skirts with matching capes. I wonder what Malay boys wore in the past. Do we have documents that tell us about the 17th or 18th century Malay boys/girls? Obviously, what we have been fed on the television (via dramas/films) cannot be said to represent or tell us the real story or history.
It is new for me to learn that the musical toys that I bought for my kids actually date back to the 1100 BC. Wow, imagine the rattles, bells and whistles that our kids play with were also played by kids in the past. Even "talking picture books" that are so abundant nowadays were very popular in the late 19th century. In away you can say that whatever that we thought as modern is not really modern. Even toy trains that Arief and Firdaus love so much can be traced back to mid 19th century.
I also learned that bibs, aprons and napkins made their apperance in the early 20th century (1900-1930) with the aim to educate the kids i.e. teaching them correct table manner. Ouchhh...I doubt that our forefathers were that strict where eating is concerned. I can still remember how my mom made me eat using my right hand/fingers. But we didn't have bibs or aprons. The first nappies were made from linen, cotton was used from 1860s onwards and disposable diapers made its appearance in the 1970s. And for those of us (mothers) who can't make do without milk formulas, just imagine that the milk formulas were only digestible and nutritious from 1930s and not before. It must have been very difficult for our working grandmothers/greatgrandmothers.
I will have to leave you with that. Today I am going to spend sometime looking at old buildings and old books.
Posted at 03:51 am by Picadilly
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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Seronok gi tempat orang. Pulak tu kat sini, lain sikit macam tempat lain. Di UK ni, cities and towns semua have similar characteristics. If you go to Chester, you will find Nottingham very similar to Chester. I reckon their past history somehow influenced their buiding designs. But it's different here in Edinburgh. Definitely breathtakingly beautiful secenery. I am not exaggerating here (yeah I know most of the time I tend to expand the truth a little bit). You can see the castles on the hills, view the ocean. Of course I am talking about the days when you have lovely weather.
Today it's pouring. Had my brollie with me but it's one useless equipment. It got in the way and the wind was too strong. So I ended up soaking. Ha..hope I will not get ill.
I went to an Indian Restaurant yesterday called 'Kalpna' with Peter and Tanja (new friends that I met at the Translation Research Summer School). The food was OK. At least it's Southern Indian Food -- a vegetarian restaurant and much much better than the Pakistani food I often eat in Manchester. We had a great time discussing cultural and polical issues. The noise we made attracted one of the waiters and I bet he listened to every word that we uttered because he kept on looking at our way. Ha..ha... don't get me wrong. Have to admit though that he has the look of typical Bollywood heroes (now I am exaggerating).
Called my family. Firdaus wept the moment he heard my voice and I cried too when I heard him wailing. I miss my family terribly and I really miss my baby. I know he must have really missed me because I am always the one who takes his side when he has a fall out with Arief or his Ayah. I know that I shouldn't pamper him too much but being the second son and the youngest (for the moment and the next couple of years) gives him the 'right' to be mollycoddled. Don't you think so. And anyway he is very 'angelic' (that's how my sis calls it -- you know the innocent, lovey dovey look). The thought of making the 'angel' weep is not very appealing and Firdaus knows that he can get away with anything (provided he is with me). Most of the time Arief will have to bear the brunt of Firdaus misbehaviour. That's typical but now that I have learned Firdaus's 'trick of trade', I no longer blame Arief if anything becomes amiss or goes wrong.
Last nite I watched this program on ITV called Bollywood Star. It's quite interesting actually. What happened is that earlier on in the first few episodes (yeah.. I know, I admit I couldn't help watching it), some few hundred candidates showed their talents (singing/dancing/acting) and out of that number, some were short listed and gradually four were selected and went for futher auditions in Mumbai. Last nite show was the final where only one winner made it and was chosen to act in this prominent producer film(s). What caught my attention is the fact that the winner is a quite 'ample' lady, by that I mean -- she is not thin (you know what I mean). I try not to use the word obese or fat because using such words would remind me of my love handles (I am in denial here, been telling myself to lose some weight but I doubt I will ever start). Anyway, the winner -- if I am not mistaken her name is Rupak, is quite talented. If only the rest of the world share the same positive view that size and looks don't matter, then the world would indeed be a better place to live.
Posted at 04:22 am by Picadilly
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