The Laziest March

It shouldn’t be – March has been my favorite month like forever – not until this year. No matter how threatening the heat of the sun was or just the normal sting, it didn’t affect my utmost anticipation for a bright and lovely summer, in March, as always.

This time is drearily different, but not to the extreme of becoming a couch potato. Forget about those eating disorders or too much indulgence on TV (as if I have the riches or time) because all I ever wanted was an active style of life and it didn’t happen.

No big stuff my red pen to tick except for daily check lists that have to be done. As in zero – no accomplishment whatsoever to be proud of apart from simple things to be grateful still. This is supposed to be my grandeur moment in the field harvesting or reaping but not in a small world of mine hibernating - not in summer time.

Speaking of a blog, should have posted the fifth article this month that if I still want to keep track of my goal. I am only on my third entry. It seems moodiness keeps holding me back to do what I should be doing – so not motivated to write something; could not even think of anything; very uninspiring March.

What a lazy month to endure!

The truth is, my first laziest March ever in my entire summer life. Hoping this will be the last time to get me stuck, useless. I can’t stand this dullness for eternity. Shoo, go away!

Should climate change take the blame then because it affects my world in some ways and in a way not being able to sleep soundly and function well physically?

Or have this severe heat hold responsible for giving me headaches, stresses, weariness, vision problems, dizziness, and lack of concentration to fulfill those unfinished businesses?

Or let this financial woes simply hold accountable for my joblessness which drives me up the wall, feeling impotent?   

Or is it just me who couldn’t wait to get away from this laziest March of my life? 

Two days from now, it will be another month to look forward to, move on, and expect great things hopefully – this without dwelling on the past.

“When is the Holy Week this year?” I asked my friend over lunch today?

“It starts today.”  He replied.

I couldn’t believe not noticing important events used to anticipate – Graduation Day and Holy Week and a lot more to tell about – this time around during summer. I hope all these things going on are just driven by laziness to mind things and not forgetfulness. It worries me actually!

As I said, the month of March was always my favorite – when moments were just too bright to ignore, too colorful not to pay attention, and too wonderful to forget – it didn’t matter how hot the weather was.

This may be my laziest March ever, but not in the past – only this year.

King Solomon, the wisest king, was right for saying… “There is always time for everything under heaven.”  And I’ll take his advice in hope of a typical March – not the laziest one.

Happy Easter!

 

No Permanent Address

There's no such thing as permanency - not in this planet earth - for even climate changes or flowers fade away. Blame it on these words: temporary or for a while or at the moment or for now - they bring us to reality without a doubt, welcoming everyone to the real world.

Passerby is my choice of word - this describes best my journey as a temporary resident wherever destiny leads me. After all, I've been wandering around my whole life.

If you've tried your luck for a scholarship, you are probably aware that a mailing address is only valid from six months to three years of possible reach. My own assessment to this is that people move to different places a lot or every so often. It may not true to every individual culturally or so.

Then a permanent address isn't always lifetime, at least for me. If it was, then I wouldn't be in many places in search of life's meaning and true happinness. I'm not saying one has to leave home to find these things (although it helps to others) because one's happinness is one's choice; because every person views life differently. And it's the journey I'm so bound.

"I'm a gypsy!" she professed.

"Maybe a modern one" my mind disagreed.

But even then, it brings no difference - it tells the same - no permanent address.

She is a friend of a friend, and we were total strangers to each other. She shocked me in fact, but in the end I learned to admire her boldness bragging about her status in front of many people, at the party.

"Toink!" This guy (me) is totally in the same boat for many years till now. Worst than that, I've been homeless like for ages even in my own home and my own land.

If I had to keep track all the places I lived in or the number of times I moved in and out, it would take a while to gather my thoughts. It's a true mark of being a gypsy I think or a person having no permanent residency.

Who has anyway? In this temporary, crazy world???

Well, if one really has a permanent address, my question then..."How long will he or she is going to embrace that status?"  Tell me because I don't know.

Homeless people here and there, homeless families everywhere, and it is so sad to know that we got no legitimate means to this ancient enigma. Someone might have the answer - not in this real world of course - the next life for certain.

Sometimes, I felt so ashamed having no permanent address despite all the hard work chasing dreams. The truth is, one must work hard to get the best in life, and yet it isn't always true to every hardworking person. One reason to that life is just so unpredictable. For even the richest man has no ultimate security in this life. Sooner or later, he will leave his seemingly permanent home empty handed.

That's why I prefer to call my journey in this world a passerby - this helps me see and foresee my life as a temporary traveler having no home my own to brag about - as many would say no permanent address.

Wonderful Disorientation

The only Mexican food my mouth is familiar with are those I've devoured in the past - chili, burritos, and tacos are the specifics. I prefer homemade over sophisticated ones - so forgive me for my disorientation. Aside from this preference cooking at home, I just cannot afford to eat out in fancy restaurants - where food are unfamiliar and ridiculously expensive as always.

When I was invited for lunch last weekend - to enjoy the grace one kind family had offered - it didn't turn out as I've simply expected. And looking at the menu was like reading a language doesn't exist. I thought we were in Mars, but we were actually at the Mexican Restaurant. Thanks to the owner for making me so comfortable amidst awkward challenge caused by ignorance - I ended up eating breakfast at lunch time though.

Grace is grace, and from that experience conceived new things - got introduced wider to Mexican cuisines, and was reminded to read more about one's a particular delicacies - for my own good next time.

And from that seemingly bizarre get together turned in a wonderful experience in the name of culinary arts. In fact, I can now make some mexican pride for myself. They aren't that complicated as I thought they were. Soon, when I get back in the village, I will orient my kids of those food too. We actually have those common ingredients at home.

I can't wait to do that!

In just a matter of day, I was caught in the same scenario the second time - another grace to enjoy the bounty my tummy couldn't believe. This time at the Indian-Nepali Halal Restaurant - again where food are strange for these big eyes to know - but they were so delicious and so nutritious to resist.

Thank goodness! I didn't have to wrestle because someone familiar with the cuisine did the ordering. All I had to do was relax, feel at home, had a chit-chat, observe, learn, and enjoy the feast before me.

I love Indian food, but things like curry and parata are the ones I know. So don't ask me to name each food we had. The ingredients are just so complex for my tongue to predict except for those familiar spices. I''m convinced to have a cook book in case I'll make some of these halal food.

But see, my disorientation has something to do with preference eating at home and my ability cooking non-complicated food only. Yet I am open to learn things in this matter. Besides, I'm very much attached to Khmer food and Vietnamese food all these years. Forgive me for that.

And before I forgot, thanks to my friends for such generosity. From these experiences, I came across new things to put in mind - speaking of cooking and eating out.

My mind keeps insisting that I had a weekend of disorientation, but my heart keeps telling me something else - it was a wonderful disorientation.

 

Cats and Kittens

Bagoy when she was till small chasing scorpion

Ana when she was still young

 Except for giant dogs, no matter how tamed or harmless they are, I just can't pet them. People are right for telling me that dogs can really sense fear, but it's just me - not a fan of huge dogs. I love puppies though and that justifies me as an animal-lover.

I don't hate dogs, cats are just my preference - and kittens too. Besides, I was raised in a home were creatures like dogs or puppies were totally outside the circle. It's more of a cultural thing rather than being indifferent or mean. The good thing is, I've learned to love dogs as well the recent years of my life. If you've been following my blog, you could have read my articles about my own puppies.

One day, a kid at the center brought a kitty home from Pagoda. It was the ugliest kind I've seen - unfriendly, quiet, and not cute. All she did was to sleep near the warm oven made of clay all day long. Despite that, she won some hearts especially me. My kid named her Bagoy.

And then, another kitty welcomed in months after Bagoy came. She was exactly the same - ugly,  quiet, and not cute - who also found comfort near warm ovens. We named her Ana.

Those looks didn't matter - they deserved to live - they needed some love and cares even if they remained strange kittens to other beholders. As for me, and for as long as I'm around, I'll be their greatest fan.

More than magic can do, everything has changed - they are no longer unpleasant tiny kittens they used to - they have grown up beautiful and adorable. In season and out of season, they stood the test of times - from fearful ones to fearless mothers - multiplying their offspring - not sure till when.

Ana's first delivery - with four kittens

Ana's second delivery - with four kittens

 Ana just delivered four lovely kittens last week for the second time. Unfortunately, one got killed by an unknown big cat. I was told it was the father cat that did it. Not sure how true, but people here told me that a father cat usually kills a male kitten because it's a threat to them (male cats).

In some ways it's true because another big cat killed three of her kittens in the past as well - only one survived - we named him My-my. He stays here at the center - active and playful - now my favorite cat.

Every night, I'm doing my best to protect the remaining kittens. Crazy me, but I let them sleep near me in the evening to make sure they survive. They are so irresistible and very cute. Meanwhile, Bagoy is also pregnant and soon will give birth - hopefully this time her kittens will live - her first baby died. It's gonna be another watchful-night to do.

The only thing I am sad about is that these kids at the center don't really care about animals. And so it's another campaign to do. I've been doing it since we lost one kitty the other day. It happened when I was at the tournament. If I was here, it won't probably happen.

Can't wait to see these lovely kittens grow and live their own.

Cats and kittens?

Yes, I love them!

My Shoes

"Now you know what it is like being a volunteer." I told a sixteen-year-old teen on our way to the border. It was one uncomfortable afternoon when prayer has never been that fervent. My miscalculation had something to do with it - few hours to my visa's expiration date - a huge hassle every so often.

Then I had to hit the road having only one angel around - this young boy because our big boys had already gone to the University at that time. And who wouldn't feel guilty and anxious to death? Thank God, he can drive quite a distance; a very solid and defensive driver, too.

Not my intention to put him in my shoes, maybe destiny allowed - to speak on my behalf the many silent cries I have - and from this unveiling, who knows, comes an unforgettable memory to reminisce - that's up to him still, but I will.

If only there were options, I won't turn to him for such a dangerous favor. But life isn't always the way we think would happen - it is full of circumstances beyond our control. As much as I wanted to reject the idea, the situation was just too demanding to resist some help - caught in the middle of urgency. Wish I could stop the spin of time.

"This is my life, son." I said. He deserves to know after all. And so had to bring in the open everything he should know - my culture shock, my odyssey, my loneliness and fear, my worries and anxieties, my sacrifices and challenges - all these with hope that he'd be able to grasp each story fully - my shoes.

Of course, part of unraveling were happy stories - my joy in serving, meeting great people, winning amazing friends, the opportunity to travel, the honor to be a volunteer, the privilege to live in different cultures, an immersion to opposite life-styles, and a lot more - all these, along with silent prayer, he too would remember someday the shoes I was wearing.

Again, it wasn't my ulterior motive to put this boy in my place, but thanks to this first and last chance to reveal my life before him this way.       

"Study harder, and never take for granted the effort of volunteers." I preached my last words. This was to appreciate the rest of selfless educators/volunteers for their sacrifices and kindness giving underprivileged kids a good education.  

My shoes are my shoes and it's up to someone to put himself in. 

 

       

Thoughtful Hearts

...A gift from my kids on Heart's Day...

"What's up with this network?" I complained trying to browse some cliche posts on my Facebook home. A click more would probably ruin my day, annoyed. Thanks to You Tube for diverting my attention away - if not, it would be another unnecessary struggle minding unimportant things around.

Well, you deserve to know for reading this article. Don't worry, got no intention of calling you nosy, and if I had, then should have kept it to myself. After all, they were only cliche-ridden propaganda friends took time noticing, and which I find corny.

"Here they are again!" I mumbled in irritation. As if I had the rights to show such attitude. Yet, the more I wondered, the same messages kept coming in and back every single day for a week.

"What????" my endless nitpick. And before another quibble started, one's thoughtful greetings changed everything, which brought me to my senses.

"Happy Valentine's Day, teacher Al!" one of the staff greeted.

"Oh, yeah. I totally forgot!" I said instead of wishing back soon. I didn't understand, but felt like I owed people an apology or an explanation for carping in a while. "Happy Valentines, too!"

I told someone what happened in defense of my actions, but I was barking up the wrong tree. She isn't a fan of a Heart's Day either for her strong stand on Buddhism. I was told. So blogging it would do, hopefully.

Sorry for not so sentimental about this occasion- my forgetfulness is to blame mainly, but I have another issue going on - my decision to refrain from so many commercialized stuff.

Thanks to a thoughtful heart when all these cliches seemed didn't work for me - in some points they do - a spoken greetings to remind me that it is the thought what actually counts. 

"Daddy, we have something for you. Happy Valentine's Day!" The kids surprised me with a gift. I wasn't expecting that since I no longer keep track of this kind of celebration. But then, it's all about these thoughtful hearts appreciating a father's love.

Thanks to sweet individuals for remembering me today - when all I thought everything was just a typical flier to commemorate Saint Valentine's effort years ago - a usual way to anticipate this day.

Happy Heart's Day!

...Kids' gesture of love to a Father...

Somebody's Discomfort, Someone's Craft

I'm not a model, just trying to be one of them

Few clicks or more of this, but definitely not one - you'd hear this annoyance once you'd spend time with me in a trip or even in a simple walk around downtown. Some friends typecast this a self-obsession, but I prefer the other way - collecting memoirs.

Absolutely not a camera shy or allergic to photos, but I wasn't born a model; not in my genes. At times, I felt like yielding to instinctive whispers and start having faith in the alluring possibility of becoming a model, but it's just a make-believe. I know.

I modeled once in a while only in my room - not big time. For one reason, this is someone's craft and not mine. To think of a person as the subject of a photo shoot, I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must be to come out with an epic result. But then it's not about somebody's discomfort, it's all about someone's strength. That's why I'm not a natural model.

And so thanks to this one time opportunity (for now) - an odd one I'd say to steal someone's profession or career - modeling just for few minutes. It explained why such a craft is not an easy thing as many people thought.

"Excuse me, can you model one particular shoot for us?" she asked me with no hesitation.

"Ah, O.K." I replied back, surprised.

The first three sets weren't that uncomfortable although they involved complex movements and repetitive takes for the sake of perfection - the last two sets were.

"I'm sorry, can you model for two more sets?" she pleaded for more.

That was then the start of uneasiness along with an endless click and annoying do something over effort. They were those awkward sets that required professionalism and gifted models to stop the annoying sound of the camera or to satisfy the photographer's concept.

I had to do some bizarre eye-to-eye shots with a person I considered a stranger, vice versa. And did few more to complete the sets. And I don't think leaving the scene would make a difference.

"Click!" pressed the photographer his last shot.

I felt an incredible sense of relief, thank goodness. But minutes before that was a another story - this guy (ME) was in total agony. I couldn't wait to finish the task and just walk away. And one opportunity a way made me think how difficult it is to be a model. 

Again, so thankful for this experience still, but I can't hold this thoughts back - somebody's discomfort, someone's craft - that's how I perceived it.

P.S.: For the sake of confidentiality, I preferred not to mention the place or event where this particular story happened. Sorry about that.

One of the photo shoots I had to play around.