Noobber’s Weblog

i am tired of telling…
i am tired of bothering…
i am tired of explaining…
i am tired of thinking over my limit…
i am tired of waking up before i sleep…
i am tired of this picture…
i am tired of  listening…

Another day is coming….again…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90lFc2zOjyU

Closer… closer…lean on me now…

” Where is my belt???” shouted from his bedroom. My brother couldnt find his belt which was previously hung behind the door. I was awaken by the din created by my mum and brother. Once again, he flared up. His temper has alwaysbeen short. But he has much changed since my mum’s condition in May.  
“Told you a million times, please dont touch my stuff and i will do all my bedroom cleaning myself!” ” 
All he wanted was his mother to wake up late, enjoy life and go out with my dad for walks and whatever they want to spend, just ask us and we will provide without a minute of hesitation.
“Since when did i touch your things?” mum defensively said. The truth is… she did. Mother was trying wash our clothes in the bucket yesterday. There was only 3 pieces of clothing i have which i soaked it for only 10mins before i do da washing. She stood up after washing da 3 pieces and started to look for more dirty clothes to wash. She went into my brother’s room flipped around and saw her chucking away some clothes.  I went in to took the clothings out of her hands and told her said, i will settle. Just sit and listen to the TV or help my dad to maybe water da plants.

I can understand how my brother feels but he was also at fault for bursting out at my mum like that when he knows her condition.
This is not some things that happen every 2 or 3 days… this is everyday!! From the moment I open my eyes in the morning, and the second i stepped into home from work. She just keeping talking about she wanting so much to go work despite that she is partially blind.
Doctor did an retinal detachment operation on 15th May. Doctor say its because of old age, after the operation, she cannot bend down to carry heavy stuff, cannot use strength when she shits, cannot do heavy chores even at home, cannot expose to sunlight nor TV for too long. 

During her 2 weeks long stay in hospital, my dad and I rotates shifts to take care of her by her bedside in SGH. I usually took the graveyard shift as my dad is old n cannot take this kinda stressful task. Reason why we have to take care of her during her stay was because she was delusional, hallucinated and paranoia. I quitted my job partly due to the responsibilties of being a son to a mother and because the hospital staffs called us during her first night there to take care of her. They couldnt cope with her.
When night falls in da hospital, she would stand up on her bed, looking for a door to go out to go work. Chase the other patients in her room out because she thinks its her own room and think there are strangers. Walk around along the corridors of da hospital trying to escape to pack her bag to go to work the next morning. Asking me why are they people walking to and fro in front of her bed while she tries to sleep.
I always kept my calm to tell her she is in a hospital. She always end up scolding me for bringing china and filipino girls home to stay. She so afraid that police would come to our house to catch her. She always say, ” Your mother already so sick and weak, why u still bring all these people to our house to sleep? You always make me worried and angry u know!” 
Of cos, it is not true…those china and filipino woman are nurses!! for godness sake!!…but i have to take it like a pill with thorns. So when i finishes my shift in 10am in da next mornin… i was already so exhausted and fatigue builds up all over. Let alone if my dad was to go thru with all these for da whole night. So i thought to myself, how can i go work in such conditions.
Relatives and my mum’s friends only know how to call and ask how’s everything, how we are coping. They call in da morning when i reached home and i was sleeping from all da night hoo haa in hospital. ” CANT YOU FUCKERS JUST LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE!!!”
If your so concern, visit her in SGH then!! Dont call, just go! Some relatives can even ask me why am i at home instead of taking care of my mum in da hospital. Because of that question, I snapped. I shouted at my relative thru da phone. She never called again, when hears my voice, she just hangs up. No ones in da world know how i feel during then, maybe my dad. Sadness, fatigue, jobless, worried and stressful.

After her 2 weeks of hospitalisation, she admitted 3 times again, back to back. Thanks to my brother whom took time off his own business to ferry mum and dad to and fro. Not to mention 3months of follow up appt. Funny thing is, when she comes back home. She became slightly better in terms of delusional and paranoia. The first thing when she came back home, she packs her handbags wanting to go work tmr. And ever since then, she would try to sneak out of the house to go work. Wakes up in 430 am in morning, makes a mess in da kitchen just to make a sandwich with butter and sugar. Time to time, I wake up to milo all over da floor, sugar, water, washing powder, condense milk etc etc all over da kitchen floor. Thing is, she dont even know that she did it. When she stops making breakfast, she would wash our clothes, only to realised that she had poured da while box of washing powder and bottle of dynamo in da pail with only 2 pieces of underwear.

While all these things happened, my dad and we just cleans up her mess, trying to talked her out of going to work. She always have da same tune, “if I dont work, how to have money to buy fish, meat, pay electricity bills buy 4D” No matter how we repeatedly remind her that all da bosses had paid her and ask her to take time to rest at home. We have tried da hard way of telling she is not allow to work and no ones wold employ her cos she is blind and also soft way of telling her that she can work only after when she recovers. Doctor says it would take a year to heal for her age. She cant do heavy work for blood pressure in her eye will build up and pain will lead to headache and discomfort. 
Of cos, all these words never go into her head…. And its because of these, she was admitted 3 times. stay in hospital for 2 days minimum. The cycle begins again…

Today, she cried… i can tell that she doesnt want it for herself either but she just can’t help it, she didnt ask to be partially blind nor her memory to fade. She didnt want to have a poor memory, she dont want to do all these. But she cant help it. Her stubborn self just keep denying. Her life was tough since young, mayb its da cause for her today doings. She only remember that no money, no food. While her sons can provide her with all things she wanted. She was scolded by my brother because he just snapped like i snapped at my relatives. Before my brother scolded her, she was asking my brother to bring her to her work place to ask her for her job back….she does this everyday…even saturdays n sundays. After bugging  my brother, she will bug me…
So as she cried, i didnt console her nor said anything, I was numb… cant seem to ask da caring side of me to bother. My dad was da worst one when it comes to her nonsense. He have to face her all day when we go work. Yes i found an unstable job after 2 months. 
My dad was patient… i respect that. Thank you DAD…Tho you had an ear operation and an inflammed urinal passage and stayed in hospital for 4 days. Sorry mum keep making you angry… I try to help in watever i can.

Mum says da most nasty things. Today, she said ” Its your fault that i lost my job… ur a useless son!” ,” All you know is to scold me, tell me that i am jobless.” Brought you up so big just to get scolding from you!!” Sigh… is this all i get from all that had happened.
Why cant she remember that she was in hospital, that we all love her, she doesnt have no more job and her health is utmost important.
She only thinks of herself… Cant keep telling my friends what makes me sad… cos it happens every fuckin day!!! for 5months…. all day, all nite… head is down when i go to work always…
Maybe its some kinda of retribution… As a son….as a husband….please hang in there… A responsibility which we cannot escape from.
Too many things to be said… whose fault is it? Who wanted all these…who deserve all these…
I know the pain my mum feels…wanting a thing so bad yet you cant have it because ur health doesnt permits
I know the pain my dad feels…. facing my mum’s nonsense day in day out…taking care of her and urself til you lost some weight…
I know the pain my borther feels… maintaining a business when you have to make time to chauffer mum and dad to hosiptals and checks ups and my mum’s daily bugging….

Does anyone know the pain i feel…when mum cries, mum cant remember stuff, when dad shakes his head sadly, looking away when my my mum ask him about her job… 

Only i know…

do 

One thing i enjoy doing… riding like there’s no tomorrow. Work commitments got the better of me.
Hardly can find anybody i know who loves riding long distance too. Sold off the old St1100 already.
Trying to transfer the old photos from my multiply to over here. 
Havent done any long rides for since last year. Hmm..

Brilliant writing by a 15 yr old…
Its worth the 5min read.

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway,
clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind.
She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter
but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers,
her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, ‘Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.’

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand.
‘Finance’ ‘Liquidation’ ‘Assets’ ‘Investments’… Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it.
Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent.  

The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.
‘I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!’ Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator;
her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in  irritation.

‘I can’t DEAL with this anymore!’ she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat.
The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap.
She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

‘Sorry, Ma,’ she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin.
‘I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of  problems.’
The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking.
Her mother’s wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.

The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.
‘Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.’
Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn’t name her Elaine.
She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for ‘networking’,
Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

‘Oh no, I can’t see you for lunch today.
I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.’

Ancient Relic.  The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her.
Her daughter always assumed that her mother’s silence meant she did not comprehend.

‘Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!’
The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence.
The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard.
It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple’s roof.
The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall.

Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and
reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother’s side.

‘Ma, I’ll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,’ she said,
not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick,
she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.

Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these  years.
Everything I prayed for, you have given her.
She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want.
She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook.

Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man.
Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says.
She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness.
I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me.
She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me.
She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness.
A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.

The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes.
Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes.

She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years.
When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb,
bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl.
Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.

Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and
prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted.
Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man.

She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman,
the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become.
A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to.
A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men.
When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her,
speaking a language she scarcely understood.
She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned.
She wanted her mother to be ‘modern’, a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.

Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that.
The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer,
but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl’s roots and now she stood,
faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother’s values.  Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman.
Power, Wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness.
The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less.
When her daughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing.
People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over,
like the ashes of  burnt paper convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter;
now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy.
She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry.
Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there – down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar.
Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods.
How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid?
But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life.

Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity.
All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soul-less shell at the altar.

The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left ateetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing.
Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual.
Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder.  
She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter’s face.
An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of  happiness.

They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway,
this time not as fast as she had done before.

‘Ma,’ Bee Choo finally said. ‘I don’t know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house.
The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it.
We decided we’d prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road.
Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves…’

The old woman nodded knowingly.
Bee Choo swallowed hard. ‘We’d get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone,
there won’t be anyone to look after you.
You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the apartment is rather small. There won’t be space.
We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home.
There’s one near Hougang-it’s a Christian home, a very nice one.’

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been there, the matron is willing to take you in.
It’s beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you’d be happier there.’

‘You’d be happier there, really.’ Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.
This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt,
as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore.
She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.

‘Ma?’ her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. ‘Is everything okay?’
What had to be done, had to be done.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly, louder than she intended, ‘if it will make you happy,’ she added more quietly.

‘It’s for you, Ma! You’ll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.’
Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

‘I knew everything would be fine.’  Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated.
Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier.
She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness.
She was happy now.  She had everything a modern woman ever wanted;
Money, Status, Career, Love,Power and now, Freedom,
without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down…

Yes, she was free.
Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear.
‘Stocks 10% increase!’

Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her…
And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen,
the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.

 Its been a long and tiring 16 days of my reservist. In camp training. Inevitable duties for each and every fit and able male being in Singapore.
For ” National security reasons”, i cannot put any army photos in this blog, we are all screened thoroughly for cameras and camera phones.

Tho I was downgraded for 1 year, (C9L3) but life is still quite physcially tough for me too. I never thought i will say this but I actually did enjoyed my in camp training. i feel happier when during in camp training instead when i am working in the cold heartless corp world. While they are all in our shirt , tie and pants, we were in our same pair of uniform for last 3 days. We were all talking crap, smoking, and just slacking. Work when being told to. Tho its sometimes quite mundane but its simple. No sales targets, no boss breathing down your neck asking for more sales. No hypocritical colleagues, no customers entertaining.

Only down side of reservist is we don’t have any hot water shower, we have to wake up before the sun comes up, go to sleep only when all others already in bed. Your hands are never clean from rifle grease, mud and all fuck things. 
Well, no use for complaining. 4 more in camps to “M.R”. Hang in there LTA Chan!!