THANK THEE FOR ALL THESE THINGS

In 2012, I posted seventy articles in my blog – outnumbered those previous years. It was such a huge accomplishment beyond imagination, and so incomparable from what I had these past postings.

Thank God for wisdom so I could put all those wonderful journeys including those unwanted flights into words – for all the readers to know.  

So grateful to the Father for all the opportunity big and small – if not for these blessings, my blog could have been dry – it wouldn’t be that colorful or interesting or funny or dramatic.

About Ultimate Frisbee, this guy has only played three major Asian tournaments this year, which is unusual, but it’s a good thing still – compared to none. I do thank HIM for keeping me healthy and strong so I could compete. Above all for keeping this old guy physically fit through His grace.

I thank the Giver of life for the gift of friendship – for bringing friends old and new into my life – to learn, to grow, to serve, to appreciate, to help, and to pray with above all. Thanks to those who remain “friends forever” even in normal days.

For my family away from home who has been patient and understanding as I heed the Master’s call – I owe you a lot of time together –I won’t promise a thing – for sure, in His own sweet time. I thank God for your life… each one of you.

Above all, for the great opportunity to serve God in various ways – in simple and complex things – they are all noted as an honor to serve my Creator.

And then for his gracious grace that I can renew my commitment to serve more – with or without friends along the way; with or without food on the tables; with people or without affirming – I made a decision to serve continually.

Thank Thee for all these things.

Meanwhile, have a blessed and happy New Year everyone!

I'm Eight

Let’s start with this slogan – NEVER. STOP. RUNNING – a campaign about endurance – one must be physically fit to adopt such lifestyle.

This campaign evolved few years after I became an aficionado of Frisbee. Since then, it serves a constant reminder when I tend to be unfit. Aside from skills and strategies, this sport requires stamina the most – how long one can stand to endure.

Ultimate Frisbee is the spirited sport I have ever indulged – no age limit or no racism or no sexist – everyone is welcome regardless of statuses – just keep playing with persistence.

And now I am eight. Not counting my age though, it’s just the number of years I have been playing Ultimate Frisbee. So glad I made my decision years ago to take part in this awesome journey.

Eight years in leagues and tournaments brought so much fun aside from beautiful challenges a million dollars couldn’t trade.

It is in these years that my potential in sport has been fully maximized. I was just a skinny boy in my younger years who aspired to be in a team sport.

It is in these years God has blessed me with awesome friends (playing the same sport) from all over the world more than just those awards and medals. They are still treasured in my heart.

And it is in these years I’ve come to my senses that even a person in his sixty can still play Ultimate Frisbee. I’ve seen it my eyes. I’ve played with these folks as well. And so I’ll keep playing even at this age.

I’m eight but I’m still having so much fun. As always, I am looking forward for more games next year and the many years to come.  

We just had our last tournament for this year – but not our last tournament for life. As the slogan states: “NEVER. STOP. RUNNING.” and so this old guy here.

House-hopper

Forgive me for such a house-hopper at the moment. I left my space and comfort in this city of Saigon for quite sometime now. And so grace is what this man needs during this priceless furlough.

Bottomless thanks to my warm hosts for not sparing a thought welcoming me in. And oh, if anyone drops by in Phnom Penh, just let me know, and I’d gladly share my small hut or be your tourist guide around.

Truly had an awesome weekdays – a house-hopping little journey filled with gracious joyride. And so a wonderful weekend under the grace of a kind family - my local friends and ultimate Frisbee team mates.

What about next week or the rest of the days this year then?

I’m so good for next week, but I am not in the position to worry beyond these days. Let my Provider do the transaction and deliver those gifts of grace await me. That’s cool I think than worrying.  

If anyone is in the same shoes this time, don’t worry for it’ll be fine. It is only a matter of kneeling before the Father. After all, it’s not in wondering but in trusting the Sustainer of life.

Yes, I’m a house-hopper this time, but not yet a gypsy. It takes a caravan or group of them to typecast my self. One thing for sure, I am just a commuter in need of mercy – not ridicules.

This isn’t a guy that boils water along billabong despite house-hopping – it’s just for a while. In the ground to which I stand, I am just a passer-by – one stranger on earth that needs kindness and mercy – we all do.

I pray that the One who blesses us with earthly things will give us discernment to welcome those who are needs – feed them or clothe them or shelter them or simply bless them back.

Not an immigrant yet or a homeless one or a typecast gypsy or the guy along billabong – I am just a house-hopper. But in this incomprehensible journey lies an incomprehensible grace. 

Once again, happy holidays!

A Musical Director

Suddenly this season reminds of something and of someone – a thing I fancied doing as a kid and as a teenager – the caroling; and a special person who has mentored me becoming a learned vocalist – my musical director.

Aside from those singing competitions I ventured boldly, being a house-to-house-caroler for years had also developed self-confidence in me. But learning at the

baton of a musical director like this one was another story, a wonderful experience worth retelling.

If not for him, I don’t think I’d be able to recognize the beautiful sounds of ebony and ivory or learn to play the piano… for free. He was my first piano teacher, who, without a doubt, invested his time for such a late- learner like me. I started playing at the age of sixteen.

Proud to say, he was the only voice teacher I had my entire life. Stuck on him was no regret at all – it was absolutely incomparable. He taught me a lot – versatility, passion, discipline, originality, uniqueness, and courage – he had all these unveiled just to fashion me as a freestyle vocalist. I doubt it if I’d be able to find a similar trainer like RBC.

Back to where I hailed from, there were like hundreds of gifted singers both famous and unknown. I belonged to the latter ones – not famous to cut to the chase. Yet, he eyed me and put me in his band, The Frontliners Band.

For years, I took every opportunity to sing, to learn, to grow, and to serve in the music ministry above all – through an instrument I considered a mentor, a big brother, a counselor – my humble trainer.

He created this band for youngsters like we were, as God’s purchased talents by grace. I only had one awesome band my whole life. I know, I’m too biased here or sounds so ego, but that’s the truth. I loved my band and so honored to have a musical director like this man. For sure it isn’t a mortal sin to love your own.

It was his generosity to put me in his band, and performed with amazing talents – Ethel Ornido and Nicoline Chiong (our great balladeers), Erwin Ornido (a gifted pop and rapper), Pamela Tiu (our very own R&B/soul contender), Tisha Lopezvito (a trained pop artist), and Maritess Garcia (a mellow classical singer) – with one thing in common – we shared the same teacher, one musical director, Mr. Robert Bermoy Chiong.

Never have I been so proud my whole life than sitting at the feet of him to be musically inclined or as far as music is concern - only when I was under the care of this musical director – in good side.

I don’t mean forgetting the rest of my mentors. In fact, I’m also thankful and indebted for each special way and for every journey we had together. It’s just that, I didn’t stick as much as I did with my first mentor. The first teacher-encounter usually leaves a lasting impression whether a good mark or a nightmare.

When I finally left the group and moved on to a different direction, a paradigm shift, it was actually a sad feeling. But life is filled with dilemmas. And it was time to soar my own. Yet it was also undeniably true that I kept missing my old band amidst in the group of new and gifted singers.

I am so missing everyone in the band. But past is past, as many would say it. They’re now memories my mind likes to think back.

“Where am I now as a singer?” In case one would ask.

Well, I’m in the sideline… sometimes people questioned my capacity and sometimes they doubted my ability, and sometimes they mocked me for telling my experiences.

Who cares?

I am surrounded with friends who knew who I am. I don’t need an affirmation. Of course, thanks to foreigners who always give me kind words for speaking the truth.

At least, I am happy with my life using this God-given talent. I still sing though but seldom. As always, I’m thankful to the Father for the opportunity to bless every newlywed couple a song or few.

This year, I had three engagements, and early next year I’ll have two engagements to sing so far.

And again, I owe this crafting and development to my musical mentors especially to the one and only musical director I admire for years – no other than but Robert Bermoy Chiong.

I thank God for his life.

Unfulfilled Dreams

“Please, list down in a sheet of paper all your unfulfilled dreams so far.”

It was the given activity for the day to a group of young professionals (including me) during Sunday school – a task which I perceived every successful career person (excluding me) wouldn’t waste time giving a thought.

We did anyway and so discussed what we had in mind. But then let me bring out into the open some of what I had listed back there; written without observing a proper grammar:

• No PhD degree yet
• To become NGO’s adviser or consultant or  director
• Never been to Korea or United Arab Emirates
• To be part of Annual Bangkok Ultimate Frisbee Tournament
• Make my own blog
• Publish a book

And few more which I prefer nameless still – that if you believe in someone’s secrecy. If not, then you really are nosy.   

Two weeks or three after, I got a call from the Department of Sociology, University of the Philippines informing me that I didn’t make it for the applied program.

Few days later, came in the good one – I was admitted to Asia Graduate School (a.k.a. AGST) in full scholarship pursuing Doctor of Education in Adult Learning.

Years after, I was conferred by International Communicators Open University with another degree, Honoris Causa – Doctor of Education in English.

All this time, not even once I’ve browsed back an old journal where I kept my silent aspirations – seemingly unfulfilled – only few weeks ago. As I started paying each listed hope some attention, so reminded me of those ups and downs – now I’m laughing at those monsters of faith; in tears of joy.

Truly, it takes perseverance, hard work, faith, mercy, grace, and prayers. Before I noticed, I was already living my dreams (not everything though). And only one out of these six in the lists hasn’t come true yet – a trip to UAE or Korea.

I am hopeful still about it – in God’s perfect time.

Thank God for all these things!

How do you value unfulfilled dreams?

Well, I leave it to you to answer this question. But if you see me hanging out with dreamers, I pinch them and wake them up. I advocate and educate and encourage youngsters to keep pursuing their hopes in life.

Above all, I suggest dreamers to offer every aspiration to the Author of life – the Creator and Sustainer of every dream big and small.

A Phrase

Back in Saigon since late last night, but no more “surprise” talk although it’s still around appearing. If I talk more about it, then I won’t be able to write something else – about this phrase.

If you aren’t updated with what I do, aside from blogging anyway, furlough brought me here – in a long while – the shortest and the cheapest one worker could have. I’ll be in the city for the rest of the year, not wasting time hopefully, but to enjoy the season and is here for the Annual Asian Ultimate Frisbee tournament.

So don’t wonder if I am stuck in this coffee shop at the moment. That’s what I meant to enjoy my holiday with a cup of hot coffee in my hand. The story happened here as well this early morning.

“Give me your ticket!” she told one of the VIP customers for like three times.

So there I went, trying to be nosy but with an intention to help. Aside from education wise, I think I’m really called for this – to offer help or unsolicited advices.

“Excuse me, ‘Can I have your ticket, please!’ is more polite I think.” I whispered in Vietnamese.

Thank God, she was very receptive and humble, and so it was worth reminding her.  

I’m not saying that she is rude or impolite, but it’s just the proper use of a phrase. Maybe none of her teachers put an emphasis on this one when she still learned the language.

Well, she isn’t the only one, I’ve been an advocate for this small thing called “ethics’’ in years whether in one-on-one encounter like this young lady or a huge group of young professionals and young people.

If you visit those kids in the village I worked for, you’d notice their know-how on the differences between a slang phrase or an informal phrase or a formal phrase. I put so much importance on this stuff because they should know them.

Even Asian like me dislikes being asked “What is your job?” It’s the same initiated feeling someone flicked my ears. These kids know the other way instead “What do you do for a living?” It sounds right, I think.

A phrase is still a phrase – it can drive a client away or win somebody round.

And a phrase is only a collection of both familiar and unfamiliar words – one just has to say it appropriately at the right place, at the right time, and for the right purpose.

Christmas Hints

Each time I paid Saigon a visit, there’s always a surprise in stored. And in these surprises I find myself whether in awe or flabbergasted. Many times, they appeared as a reminder or as a precious lesson to jot down. 

No matter what it was – every time varied – to mention few… from a typical cuisine to exotic one; from a laid back way of life to civilization; from being reserved to outgoing individual; from simple to complex cultures; from a slumber city to a sleepless society – all these amazed me to the fullest.

My recent visit last week brought another unexpected episode I didn’t think of – those Christmas hints I posted on Facebook or paraphernalia decked before time downtown Saigon. They aren’t just mere pictures but sheer reality eventually conceived a new story.

It was still November when I came in this time, at least few days before December, and yet shops everywhere including malls were already in bling-bling and in dazzling colors telling hints for the season.

It was an unusual welcome. Trust me I’ve been here long enough for intuition. This city has never been this eager to adorn attractive stuff and for gilding the night to announce the season.

“Cool!” I said peeping through the bus’s window.

The next day, I found myself taking photos in endless amazement. And from there instilled another question my mind couldn’t wait to know – “What’s behind those Christmas hints?”

I thought and thought carefully trying not to be subjective about it, but my heart was so irresistible for such temptation – to speak out my mind – they’re but pure ads or commercialism – one obvious means only to attract clients taking advantage of the season. 

 Without beating around the bush, this didn’t surprise me at all except for such enthusiasm decking in time for the sake of commercialization with no intention remembering the celebrant.

As I clicked my old camera, and noticed every thing including bits and pieces, I couldn’t help but utter objective judgment – they’re only Christmas hints – in all forms – trying to entice every naked eye with one simple message – BE MERRY and HAVE FUN!

Then in one glance a way, came a surprise which urged me to click more. They are 5 separate words in huge sizes, in gild – FAITH, LOVE, JOY, PEACE, and HOPE – hanging on the glass walls for everyone that passes along Le Loi Street to see.

“This is it. It’s so awesome!” I said as I took one last shot.

Thanks to the one that came up such an excellent idea. I may not know his/her intention for such a concept, yet out of those seemingly Christmas hints expose true messages every mankind should be hearing.    

It was a surprised indeed even from those Christmas hints.

Happy Holidays!

Awful Hour

Tried to finish some errands in time down town Saigon today in hope could catch a bus not squeezing through the crowds. There has been an anticipation visiting good friends who just moved in the suburb area. So off I went to the bus station.  

In few steps walked, the ambiance of the city turned upside down all of a sudden. I didn’t feel so well– it’s like a thin line from sanity to insanity – freaking out in silence.

The sun this time was just so aggressive, and too unkind for its stinging heat – caused almost every person in bad mood including mother earth. It was like sitting around the fireplace in midday.

Those ordinary things I usually paid no attention now have become annoyances. Suffering for an hour was like forever. I couldn’t wait to have it over.

Who could stand a persistent woman selling lottery tickets despite countless refusals? I had no patience for such pushiness – not this moment – it really gets on my nerves – she was just irritating not to understand a simple ‘no’.

Then there they were those nark “xe om” drivers trying to spoil my day. Their nosiness and craftiness drove me even more exasperated. They were just illogical buggers who don’t know who’s who – a bus commuter or a xe om passenger.

Smokers also drove me around the bend. And no matter how I tried to find a smoke-free-zone, just could not find a safe spot – they were all around me. So I had to go round and round under the heat of the sun to evade exposure to secondhand smoke.

But I stood them all in silence, upset though. 

It was already an hour or so waited for nothing and not a familiar bus came. Before I realized, it was actually unnecessary to go to the main station to catch the right bus. It stops exactly at backpacker’s area where I did some errands earlier. I totally forgot.

But it was too late to regret. So I headed back to where I should catch one. In half an hour’s time, there it came – finally the right bus.

“What an awful hour it was!” I whined.

But it was only one awful hour – it didn’t actually ruin my entire day. As far as I remember, good things happened before and after this seemingly appalling sixty minutes or so – a coffee talk with an old friend this morning; a chat on FB with family and friends; a warm welcome from kind hosts (for their time, for the fellowship, for the cash, for the bountiful blessings around the table); an early Christmas gift from a friend who is in Portugal; and more.

Again, it was only one awful hour!

WARNING: DON'T FALL IN LOVE

A madly in love teenager is predisposed to defiance despite constant reminders. So it takes fervent prayer and sensitivity to counsel a client as this. “Love is stronger than a raging torrent!” elders in my time would always say to anyone who’s head over heels.

If this is a metaphor, then I’d still use it for comparison’s sake – a completely in love teenager and a writer who is too attached to his writing.

The tendency is that, if one is very much in love with his piece (an article for instance), he’s also vulnerable to defiance without being opened to any corrections. I was told once – Don’t fall in love with your own writing.

I took heed to this warning since then, without hesitation. If I didn’t, my life as a writer could have been stagnant - the worst mess could have happened.

For this important reason, I remind myself of this pitfall every so often. If I don’t, then I will not be able to see what others see or understand the perspective of others.

What’s the use of a peer?

Well, I leave it to you to think of the answers. For sure, we’re all aware of the existences of these words “edit” and “editor” in the dictionary – to counteract this defying gravity or to remind us simply the danger of one-sidedness.

No offense, but I do see a lot of writers on cloud nine – deeply, incredibly in love with his/her finished product, unpolished. Sad to say, no matter how I tried to be of help, it’s pointless – they are so defiant – not wanting to learn anything.

When people asked me to edit their write-ups, they wrestled with the idea of polishing. The worst, they are afraid of changes. Actually, I was not trying to change the structure, but I was only suggesting possibilities – from grammar to concept and to creativity.

So it’s like having someone around who is madly in love and so unreceptive to nuggets of wisdom. When I told them to do things differently, the next time they write one, it’s the same old thing. That’s the real challenge!

“What’s the point of coming to me anyway?” I asked in silence.

Some of these in-love-writers are great pretenders. They pretend to seek advice or a piece of idea, but actually not. No matter how much important things you laid down to share, at the end of the day, they’re just clanging cymbals.  It’s really crazy!

Sorry about that, but I give further elaboration no more – I only have one intention to bring – like those who told me once – a warning: Don’t fall in love with your own writing.

NOVEMBER TWENTY-THIRD

 “What’s with the date that it keeps coming in reminding?” I asked, and then asked.

Have thought of relevant occasions just to calm this wondering mind, but all these didn’t ring any bells with me. Then, in one last try – voila – it’s actually my father’s death anniversary.

I’m old, but not that old. And so it has nothing to do with agedness. My forgetfulness on this date is just the opposite of denial or anticipation – I had let go in years, and moved on.

That’s it!

Besides, I don’t really observe death anniversary although I treasure dead loved ones and friends for eternity. Sorry to say, this is just the way I perceive people who’ve gone before us.      

“So what’s this about?”

Have asked that myself as well.

So far, a single reason I could compose is the literal explanation aside from one personal revelation. That this date was unordinary day when the Creator took away the presence of an earthly Abba – to complete my orphan status; to be in total dependence on the Father of the fatherless; and to prune me becoming a grown up person above all.

I struggled to understand though, but life didn’t stop being an orphan. The most hurting scenario year after year was to celebrate Father’s Day. That’s when I had to sigh in pain, and in silent tears seated on the bench while others honor their fathers.

It took faith to believe that I still have the greatest Father. That’s when I understood the finiteness of an earthly ones – they couldn’t be around at all times to protect, to provide, to rescue, to comfort , to guide, and to know the deepest part of me – there’s One and only One -  the Father of the fatherless.    

And pruning was required to see each purpose along the way. It doesn’t take psychological analysis to understand a child’s longing of a father. For even animals I think are subject to that yearning. But it was in this pruning I learned to grow independently in human speaking.

Regarding that personal revelation – no thorough biblical scrutiny involves in fact– it is just an interpretation of my own – a sort of reminder to be grateful about to selfless individuals who were  there in the absence of a biological father.

Thank you very much for your examples!

God takes away, yet God gives more. When my real father was gone, He sent three special people dear to my heart – they fathered me in various ways – an adopted father who provided my financial needs most of the time; a foster father who welcomed me in when I was homeless and hungry; and a spiritual father who admonished me to walk in the likeness of God’s image.

They may have played major differences in my life, but they have got similarities in many ways to be honest – one, they’re all the Master’s servants called to serve the needy; two, all of them have compassion for the fatherless; three, each has a deeper perception of the true essence of a father.

Now, the twenty-third of November is just a date I’ve forgotten in many chances, but now I see it a different perspective.

   

STILL IN THE ALPHABET

For years, I really possessed a strong optimistic outlook on language learning beyond cautious optimism. That was always a good start – an attempt having no regret in the end for such spirit.

Getting hold of a positive stance, it pushed me over the limit. And no matter how time consuming each language learned; regardless how complicated the rules in frames; despite how tiring the demand of a tongue twister – I stood the test – it was just a matter of settling the heart and mind encouragingly.

But not on this overwhelming language, the Khmer, in which each character I come across is a strange creature. I am beginning to be pessimistic about it, not to count the numerous whining and complaints.

The alphabet itself is too much, left me annoyed for not being able to familiarize every stroke still. Sometimes, I am tempted to set aside this venture again since I speak the language enough.

“You really have to memorize them to remember well.” insisted a Caucasian friend, also a learner.

“Ah, OK.” I replied instead of defying such an idea.

But my heart is telling me the irony of how I learned things – not memorization or by route. I prefer familiarization or learn it by heart, and then I’d remember them for the rest of my life.

Yet, as I devour myself daily mastering the alphabet, that’s when challenges come disturbing– to name – laziness, less motivation, forgetfulness, less focus, short attention, and all sort of negativism a body could ever feel.  

“I think my friend has a point on this one.” my defiant heart is agreeing.

Now, I am so tempted to give a shot and see what his idea has in stored. After all, no one dies in giving a try.

Still in the alphabet - in my fourth attempt – at least I didn’t give up.

Happy to know, it took years for the locals to master it. And that’s an excuse for not thriving very fast – if only I could.

Sad to say, there are locals still that couldn’t write and read such Khmer alphabet. Fortunately I am beginning to recognize things here – that’s another comfort.

“How old were you when you started learning Khmer formally?” I asked a veteran friend on this particular language.

“Forty plus something” he answered back.

In his super duper accomplishment embracing the language itself, speaking like a local is an eye-opener in fact. So I can still do it.

Today, I will be obedient enough memorizing each letter to prove me wrong. Hopefully, this will help me get through it. I could not wait to master the alphabet and be able to read Khmer words.

Wish me the best!

   

THE SIXTIETH

Like those who keep track of their journals – driven by inspiration amidst lethargy - they pursue their desire to conceive their thoughts into writing, as anything goes – and so am I.

Candidly, one thing I never neglect before a year is over is jotting down every goal both short and long terms. This reminds me so often rather than putting them in my memory which is impossible. At the end of the year, I could look back and evaluate what I have accomplished so far.

Speaking of goals, this year is a blast – I have to post five to ten articles a month in my blog to beat the numbers I had last year. But sixty articles are nothing compared to other blogger(s) that I know who maintain a hundred or more.

Irrefutably, I’m solely convinced that a writer can do more than just twenty-seven posts. So my intention is to beat last year’s; I say it again. 

“How about writing thirty articles this year?” I told myself while putting this specific goal into blue print, in my journal.

And so I gave a try.

Believe it or not, in just less than a half year’s time, I’ve accomplished my goal totaling thirty-two posts. Then I revised my goal making it to sixty ambitiously.

Now, I’m in reality – no more, no less, but in the sixtieth piece of writing - proving my doubt or someone else’s the possibility of it all.

Then, I can sit and relax as if this is my last post for the year.

 I don’t think so.

No, not yet, for as long as I have something to share before this year culminates, then my goal extends and my writing goes on and on and on.

With this, I only have a message, my intention per se for my readers or to other blogger(s) or to people with goals: “If one is only true to whatever goal, then it can be achieved regardless of the taunting haunt of obstacles. Not only one can simply achieve it, but it can be exceeded exceedingly. I hope you’ll achieve your goals this year - great and small!”  

God bless! 

  

BACK IN THE HABIT

The fact is, no matter how prominent or elite or famous a person in his/her own world, and then begins to learn other languages, he or she is always classified as beginner. At least, that’s what I have understood in language learning – where age is not the issue or a threat.

And so I am a beginner - but no prominent or famous or considered elite.

In other words, this guy is just a language learner who’s back in the habit – an old habit which I had set aside for so long – and now pulling me back, tangled, enticed.

If you have followed my old posts, then you’d know those languages I’ve spent time burning eyebrows. But I wasn’t challenged as crazy as learning “Khmer” or Cambodian’s mother tongue. The alphabet for instance, it gives me a hard nut – really a tough one to learn.

When I first worked in the country nine years back, my busyness didn’t give me opportunity to learn the language formally. So I learned a survival way using a phrase book I bought in the market. It helped a bit.

When I left the country, I had ventured another language (Vietnamese) without necessarily forgotten my Khmer because had crossed through these borders a lot. So I still had means of practicing my Khmer.

Surprisingly, I went back to Cambodia to work till this day. Now, I have been learning Khmer for three years – on and off.

This is my fourth attempt actually on learning how to read – like a beginner struggling to recognize each character or like an old man in Alzheimer’s disease. But I’m glad back in the habit.

My first attempt was three years ago – spent three months just for the alphabet – those times just learning the characters by heart night and day. Then I started recognizing letters and then words and then phrase. I wish I didn’t stop, but I did. And when I came back in the habit, I could not recognize any letters…as in back to zero.

The second attempt I‘d say the same scenario when I thought no more history-repeats-itself- case, but it did unfortunately. When I browsed the same book, I was already halfway to the reality yet was very surprised for such total blackout.

Again, I could not recognize almost every letter except for few ones – the R, the K, the Zero, and the E. I could not believe it myself.

That’s when I stopped trying for more than two years.

That’s when I decided to focus in speaking.

That’s when I changed my learning habit – to learn two words a day despite not able to read it, but it was quite challenging. And when I learned words, I had to ask someone to spell them for me to get the correct pronunciation. So I was able to learn by mimicking the sound or simply recognizing the letter’s equivalence.

But not now…I’m back in the habit. Had enough for two long years without motivation already. Trust me, it’s no easy, but I’m ready to face what it takes – the headache and confusion, the laziness and procrastination – have to fight it.

It’s been few weeks now burning eyebrows in the name of learning Khmer.  The fourth time feeling fulfilled as a learner aside from being able to read again. So glad I did. Now, I am simply back in the habit.