The Lonely Apple With A Mission

I still remember the day when I was selected from a bunch of others, felt a notch special, wanted, and distinctively segregated from the rest.  The next I knew, I was transported to another camp before I met with a bunch of familiar faces who have all been shortlisted to travel.

It was a bumpy ride, totally pitch-dark and awfully crowded, nothing quite close to first-class travel but it was alright.  They say it is always the journey that counts, and fair to say, I was too busy minding my own mission:  I was going to change somebody's life - loud and proud.  

I could still recall vividly the very skillful hand that picked me, the same hand that brought me home.  Home to me - has always been cosy but I would say it was rather spacious on day 1 until I woke up the next day and found a few new friends: the relatively small-built G. Kiwi brothers - Golden and Green;  a friendly chap named Orange and a not-so-friendly, uppish lady with a gorgeous smell nonetheless, named Mango.  

We all got along pretty harmoniously until 2 days later, stingy Mr. Pineapple and the almighty Durian decided to join the bandwagon.  Didn't leave us with much room to manoeuvre after their occupancy as one would imagine, and that was when frictions and conflicts began.  Everyone tried to flex their muscles and emerged just that bit taller and more convenient than the rest of the pack.  I wasn't too bothered, I chose to stay low because I was too busy minding my own mission:  I was going to change somebody's life - no matter what.  

Last-in, first-out - we learned that's how the world has been operating isn't it, at least it applies to the airline's baggage claim systems anyway. Mr. Durian came last and was the first to be chosen.  The next day was uppity Mango followed by good old Orange.  I continued to stay low profile, not that I wanted to, but dear Pineapple was shielding me from most of the day light anyway.  The next morning came and Kiwi brothers went, and so as Pineapple. 

Why wasn't I the chosen one?  

Isn't there anybody out there who loves me?  

Just when I was reciprocating my own echoes, I discovered a few bruises on my waistline and one big bruise at the top too.  Goodness gracious, when did that happen?   I shan't be chosen.  I can't let them do that.  I wanted to be the first they picked, but I know it was all too late then.  

"Please don't pick me...." I shouted with all my might, yet the boy couldn't hear.  

"Oh mother, the apple doesn't look good enough to eat, don't think I should have it," said the boy.

"Do me a favour and chuck it into the bin please, would ya? " said the boy's mother.  

Just as I thought that was the trashy end of it all, the fact that I would be rotting to death with some garbage I refused to communicate with - namely plastic bottles and chicken bones, a bright beam of light was shone and I was picked up by a hand with short but strong fingers.  Immediately - half of me was gobbled down - in I went into a hungry man's oesophagus.  

Living has meaning when you have something to do; someone to love and something to look forward to.  

Apple waited for how many days?  Six, I think.  

That was her mission completed with contentment - she did changed somebody's life at the end.  

Let Us All Be Teachers

I didn't realise but I seem to have written a number of blog posts that were dedicated to school life, to teachers in particular.  I guess one possible explanation is the fact that I was fortunate enough to have a happy childhood in school days - bullying others rather than being bullied; scored just enough points to get past without being scolded.   

Flaunting.  Yes.   

My friend, who grew up to be a Mathematics teacher, recently showed me a letter that one of her students wrote to her.  It was a letter consisted of nothing but real number of thanks, natural number of appreciation to the nth degree, a rational note - that was quite touching indeed. 

The theory behind was a complex but a common one - we all have teachers that we adored, right?   I remember acknowledging some of mine at my head-girl speech in the graduation ceremony: the teacher who brought out the artist in me, the trainer who showed me how great an athlete I was and the headmistress who convinced me to rethink my scorn for Mathematics in case I might want to pursue the field of architecture.  Well, this mumbo jumbo's life could have changed drastically - if her Mathematics teacher then was as good as her little friend here!

So let me think....when was the last time - I - received praises?  OK, here we go.

I can still remember how I felt when I got a little sticker when I did something good as a child; a mention from my teacher at the school assembly; a professor in university who put up my assignment telling everyone that it was the standard he was looking for.  And oh yes, that marketing proposal that got buy-in from the management.  Alampy got a little embarrassed, sure I did, but it also made my heart leap for joy it did. 

What made these teachers so exceptionally memorable was because they respected us as individuals, they understand individuality and that they didn't care too much about how good we were but how much we have progressed and for that alone, we owe it to these great teachers. 

The fact that we have left school donkey years ago doesn't mean we can't continue to thank them.  We don’t have to be perfect to be influential and we certainly don't have to be a teacher literally to teach.   

Just like any one of those great teachers you so adore, our job is not to be the keeper of knowledge, but an encouraging vessel to pass it on, and my motto remains:

"The world is my classroom, each day is a new lesson and everyone I meet is my teacher."

You can, by all means, tell someone something but he's bound to forget; you can, nonetheless teach someone something and that he might remember, but you can almost always get someone to learn by engaging them with your own inspiring stories.

Well done to another school year.  Salute to all you brilliant teachers out there!

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

I bummed into a friend today and I appreciated how very casually she reacted when I told her I am no longer in the cafe business - only after getting my feet wet for 9 months. 

I mean, it was probably just me feeling a bit embarrassed stating the very short-lived fact.  Me - appearing as if I started out towards a big goal, told the entire world I was all for it, then at the end, I didn't make it to the finishing line.

Guess what.  At any given point, I was allowed to change my mind.  And I did.

Just because I didn't reach the final goal of running it profitably, it didn’t mean I failed.  After all, I was the one who chose the goal in the first place.  It was arbitrary and no one could have stopped me from choosing a new goal halfway - and only when I was half way through, did I understand neither failure nor success was a destination I wanted.  It was all about making the right decision, at the right time and enjoying the moment and the outcome of being decisive.   

But then even though it was pretty darn obvious that making a big change at the seemingly right time seem beneficial and everything to be gained, it was tough making that choice.  I did worry.  I worried sick that the uncharted territory of the future was too much for me to behold.

And then I have another friend who told me she has started up her own business after god-knows how many years she has been pondering and that she felt absolutely amazingly relieved after she has made that decision.  I was so proud she did it and was real glad I constituted towards a tiny fraction of the ability to inspire her - despite my lack of success in running mine.   

If there's anyone out there sitting and waiting and totally freaking out in life because you are about to face something huge and unknown - tell you what - you should really be giving yourself more credit than that. I mean what's the worst case scenario that could happen to you?  Come on, it ain't that bad and I am sure you have enough courage to trust yourself and crush whatever that is clouding you. 

I did it.  And it opened doors to something brilliantly amazing.  I am so sure it can happen to you too - not if you ain't really giving it a go, there should be no stopping you. 

Managing Relationships

I winced through my blog and realised I seldom write about love relationships - a topic that is tender to many.  Most probably because I am guilty of writing in vacuum, I have forbidden them from entering my blog.   

  

Nonetheless, two friends conversing recently has prompted the need to write what I am going to say and I am parking this piece under the "Investments" label, simply because it IS pertained to ROI - return on investments.  

Every so often, you would hear a friend complain about a fading love. 

"My once lovey dovey scenario has somehow vanished and lost in passing time.  Do you think I've picked the right person?"  

"What constitutes as "right" anyway?"  

"Do we know?  We don't, but I seem to think that time has bleached the love we once had and hence we became lazy."  

"No.  You are wrong.  If you think about it, love grew pale the minute you guys became lazy."   

Some people tend to constantly look elsewhere for a better one when things aren't working out.  We tend to miss out the fact that we can actually work on the existing relationship.  

I am thinking this can be exactly the reason why many people prefer to be jumping in and out of relationships rather than tying the knots - simply because they have the impression that marriage can make couples complacent and lazy!

Picture this, if a married couple with kids cannot be arse to sweet talk, to listen with a heart or to install surprises every now and then - just because they now got an extended family to attend to, it ain't rocket science to figure out this kind of marriage isn't here to stay for the long haul. 

And the notion of keeping up appearances in a marriage for those without kids calls for an even higher regard - you can't blame your short temperament on the kids - 'cos you have none.  At the end of the day, it is really down to the two of you to work things out.  

The Beatles once said "Can't Buy Me Love."  There are a number of ways to invest and not all of them have to do with stocks or bonds or real estate.   The effort you put into improving yourself is an investment, and the way you use your time to cultivate a relationship is also an investment.

Make love or make peace - do whatever you have to do tonight before your investment turns sour.  Might be wise to have a drink while you do it.  

Stories

Everyone has stories.  And I believe each of us has compelling stories to tell that can make a difference.

Facebook says we can tell our stories with Timeline.  Fantastic.  You start seeing photos of your friends' graduation or wedding day got replaced by updates on what they just had for breakfast this morning.   Great invention!  

Facebook is still great, don't get me wrong.  The thing is, we have total autonomy on how we tell our stories.  Say you are catching up with an old friend – would you rather be interested that he had Egg Benedict this morning, or hear about his new dream job?  

Say you have had a rough day at work where literally everything could have gone wrong had gone wrong.    

When your emotional edge and resentment are your little demon friends, you chose to tell and post your story with:  

"I would not be feeling x, if y didn't happen." Or, more realistically, "I would not be feeling x, if so-and-so didn't do y." 

What this is, is like a projector screen of words convincing you of a story you are literally making up to yourself. Works you up to anger, exacerbates the pain and guaranteeing its survival.

To me, the purpose of telling your story of self is to create common ground with your audience by sharing a story that reflects the values that brought you to work on your given issue, and where those values come from.

Perhaps next time you can consider taking your frustrations to the bar and flush it down with a happy-hour drink or two.  

Do you think the keyboard can escape just like that?  

I don't think that's allowed.  

Is Chivalry Dead?

What's wrong with these twenty, early thirty year-old these days?  They pretend they don't see with their eyes wide opened.  

I am talking about being chivalrous in giving up seats on mass public transports.  I have taken a lot of trains and buses in Asian cities to conclude that Hong Kong is the worst I have seen.   It is saddening to see my home city's civilization retreating backwards.  

The old, incapacitated, pregnant or distressed deserve your seat more than you.  Give yours up!   Don't they teach that at school any more? 

Next time, if you notice a seated person so absorbed in their game of Candy Crush or Fruit Ninja that they haven’t seen the 93-year-old.  Intercede, or they will never learn.    

Oh, and since we are on the subject of etiquette on public transports - I will add one more commandment: Invest on decent headphones, I mean, any masterpiece that leaks out just becomes noise disturbance when emanated from that lousy headphones of yours.  

Living Out of A Suitcase

I have clocked over 50,000 air miles in the last 5 months.  If only they could be accredited under the same airline loyalty programme, I could well be flying free to Mexico, you know.  

I am not alone in this.  I mean, this is no surprise for a few of my friends and my sister who all work in consultancies.  The difference between me and them - I have been travelling for leisure, life is sweet but I earn peanuts.  Theirs - life is gruelling, bitter sweet but they earn tonnes. 

Their typical week starts before dawn on Monday with a rush to the airport and a flight to wherever their client is based.  They would then spend the majority of the week indoors gorging on minibar snacks and glumly texting their distant lover.   Add 18 hours weekdays plus 6 hours weekends will just about make their week fulfilled.  

For those bright young things out there (and the not-so-young ones) who are always worried that you haven't done enough work, not enough to pay for your mortgages and a decent grub - please - think again and get a life (and some sleep would help too) because any smarties would know working oneself to death in order to keep up and not having any time to enjoy the fruits of one's work isn't really success.  It is merely obsession.  

For the attention-seekers - if you think nobody really cares if you are alive or dead apart from your boss, how about trying to miss a couple of mortgage payments, you will then have the bank looking for you too!   

And for the rest of us who are perfectly normal, let's rejoice and muse with this inspiring quote.  

As for me, after a nice little career break, I am exhilarated to be back on a corporate payroll again!   Yes I am.  

A Quantitative Self

With smartphones and some wonderful apps these days, it is fairly easy to get obsessed, and I am not talking about Candy Crush.  I am talking about Data Crunching.   

Heaps of it.  

Last month, I knew things had got out of hand.  Instead of hitting the town for a friend's birthday, I stayed at home and walked back and forth across my living room hoping the little exercise would make me feel less guilty about the amount of eating-out I have been doing.   It was probably for the best that I didn't go out for dinner and cocktails anyway, because according to the wonderful Account Tracker app that keep stabs on my finances, I am veering dangerously close to busting my monthly budget.  

And don't even go there with the ingenious Drinks Tracker, an app that racks up all the units I drink in a week.  It is making me feel like a really really bad person for pouring a third glass of wine on a Friday night.  I have had a boozy month and the bar chart on my app is alarmingly littered with red exclamation marks.  And so I logged on to Optimism, my Happiness Tracker and downgraded my mood from an eight to a fiver!

Are you lured?  If so, here's a list of useful quantified-self apps for your reference.  I have pretty much been there done that and at the end of the day, I know data does not matter, it is what I mine from it that does.   It is like those TV programmes about obese people when they lay out all the food they have eaten in a week and it really shocks them.  I have hence become more self conscious of what I do, eat and drink, which is very empowering indeed.  

I may have started walking more and eating, drinking, spending less, but frankly, I am ready to ditch my Nike Fuelband for now.  Stop counting and just start living and hopefully, back on jogging (no, I meant blogging) a bit more frequently.  

Your Neighbourhood Gems

Ideally within strolling distance from your front door, it's a bolt hole where the staff know your name, your drink and your favourite seat.   When it closes for a fortnight's holiday, its regulars will soon lament its absence.  

I am referring to a neighbourhood cafe.  One that's open when you need it and one that's worth getting out of bed on a freezing day and draws you in with its warm glow of familiarity.  

You might spot local art on the wall, stacks of magazines to browse and an inviting aroma for you to suck it all in.   The wait staff would have to be pretty laid back but attentive - just the style you like it.   Neighbours might meet here for the first time and become friends over coffee.  It's where a few parents might take her baby on its first outing and where that child will grow up (it is possible).  It's truly a place where a community can come together and fed connected.   

Each visit may seem much the same as another but their accumulation can account for a significant part of our lives. Whether your purpose of going is for conversation, food and drink, to work or just to switch off, the end result is the same - you will feel much better having gone. 

Go explore and visit that cafe at your neighbourhood - the one that you have always wanted to go but never find the time.   For some it may require a short bus ride but going out of your way to get there can make the visit all the more memorable and open your eyes to a whole new neighbourhood.  

And as a coffee lover visiting London, I have been irreparably spoiled rotten with a plethora of choices.  So many cafes scattered around even signage can get interesting.  

A Whimsical Look At Time

What would the world be without time?  I know one thing for sure, we will have one less phobia, as no one will suffer from chronomentro-phobia!

Righto.  The first thing that pops up in my head: many hotel lobbies would look much better I reckon.  Ever notice how all those clocks displaying the time in various cities of the world clutter up spaces?  Who ever reads them?  I suggest they invest in art instead!

Those who love sleeping would love this.  They would very much be using their body's circadian clock.  Imagine sleeping when tired and eating when hungry, not because it's, say, 11pm or lunch hour.   Party until thy want to, not until thy reached thy curfew.   Brilliant isn't it?

And because there will be no clock-in time, employees would arrive and leave at different hours, eliminating rush hour traffic.   Smashing.  

Comes examinations, students would take their own sweet time to answer questions.  I never think it makes much sense to cram everything we have learnt throughout the whole year into a few hours anyway.  

We could also lose ourselves in cyberspace.  No one could measure the amount of time I have been spending on Facebook or Facebook.  No one would never know when anyone would arrive for a dinner party.  Probably going to have to rely on instincts to decide when to serve party food.  

I was just taking TIME OFF for a whimsical look at the possible ways life would be more interesting without say, clocks.   It is TIME to get back to reality.   About TIME to pay that bill and don't forget that tax return!

A Sneeze That Leave Her Cold

Coldness of the world got her to speak her mind about it, but instead of just spitting it out, she sneezes.  For her, it is impossible to sneeze without sounding (and appearing) ridiculous.  

As you grow, your jawline might change, your hair style will change and you can even change the way you hail a taxi but your sneezing style, it stays with you, for life.

The build-up and release of some sneezes is worth a book, I think.  For instance, there are those gentle sneezes that sound like birds, hardly get noticed.  There are some geniuses who seem to be able to swallow their sneezes, an envious style I cannot master.  Then we have the "achoo" variety - almost universal in its impact, something really honest about this and most people readily respond with a "bless you".  

And there's a type called a blast.  It begins with a contorted face, moves on to the shoulders shake and rolling eyes and sometimes, is given greater emphasis by the flapping arms, followed by the outburst.  This, sadly, is the category in which I belong - the kind that will cause bystanders to jump out of their skins and rush into bomb shelters.  

Oh well, I have been frank.  

What about yours? 

Love Life, Not Stuff

What a heavy book to read on a long haul flight.  Not literally heavy like a dictionary, but the attempt to digest one of Nobel Prize winner Albert Camus' philosophical novels was.   

In The Stranger or The Outsider (L’Étranger), I found this interesting line from the book which I felt like sharing,

"You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”

The Carpenters pondered with a song even, did they not?  

"Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?"  

Well...they just do.  And may be we should stop asking why oh why and just get on with life.  I have obviously caught the bug from Camus. 

Let go of your sadness, give up the fight;  
Follow your madness, and take flight.

I know you are capable of.

Who's My Valentine?

Can't believe Christmas and new year celebrations have come and gone and the fact that I have not been blogging since last year, is just beyond me. 

I chose to write today, not to express how I am a Valentine’s Day acolyte, very much to the contrary, I never get excited about it weeks in advance the way I do with Christmas.  

I believe relationships are healthier when couples are romantic all year round and not just one day of the year.   Shouldn't just glorify romantic love on this day but all kinds of love. 

Sometimes the fact that I haven’t found that special someone yet brings up a fear that I’m not loved.  I do have a date today and have rediscovered a guy who loves me.  He just happens to be my dad.  Worth all the ink isn't it?

No romances with lashings of extravagant meal nor sumptuous fine wine tonight (no sexy talks either).  But love is all around. 



Happy Valentine's Day to all you fine people!  

A Game of Hide and Seek

It was hide and seek: A game we used to play, in which you enjoyed. 

It wasn't hard to understand why because I always let you find me: Our precious memories.  

You are not dead.  Just hiding. 

Life goes on.  And so as our gaming.  

On your birthday, let there be rain. 
so we can feel you once again.

Happy birthday son.

Walk Beside Him

Dear friend,

You have always been a bit chubby, wear a natural glow on your face, generally happy.  We met recently and you have become quite the contrary which prompted my immediate concern.   

"Do you think it is mid-life crisis?" you asked. 

I know if you can still tell jokes, you can't be feeling that bad.  What a relief.

As far as I can understand, you have been trying very hard to wear a couple of hats while juggling with several balls.  From being a responsible employee, a daddy's girl to a supportive wife and a pleasing daughter-in-law - ambitiously aiming to strike a chord all at once.  

Exhausted by the look of things because from what I gathered, you are dissipating your effort on things you can't control.

I say if there’s absolutely nothing you can do to impact the person or the situation, then it is probably best to leave it there.  It's a different story if you have will-power but you don't, right?  

There are so many important things in your life, in this world, that you can affect.  First and foremost - your own well-being is priority number one.  If you are unhappy, how can you expect people around you to be?

In your case, you have to swallow the fact that every family works differently and so when it comes to your husband's family matters, all you can do is to stand by your husband because whether you like it or not, you have chosen him to be your man.  Trust that he knows best and focus on what you can change, where you can have the most impact, make a difference, and let the rest go. 

I remember I once read something from Albert Camus' "The Stranger", which was a recommended read from you and I quote, 

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.  Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.  Just walk beside me and be my friend."

Give that a try.  I certainly hope to be seeing a happier and healthier you next time we meet. 

Thanks Miss Mocha

One thing good about running a cafe is you get to meet strangers from all walks of life and out of the plain ordinary, they can bring colours to yours and sometimes, be able to create self-reflection of our very own.  

There was this customer who came to my cafe last week, she has been here several times, always on her own.  That day, while sipping her usual Mocha, she started telling me about her worry of job security and the danger of losing her income and not being able to pay her bills nor buy the things she enjoys.  And then went on wringing her hands about not being able to find true love and be forever lonely.  

I must have somehow came across as downright friendly for her to dish all that out!  Though I must say, her situation reminded me of someone I know fairly well. 

I can't speak for everyone but I think many of us are wasting time on one common thing - worrying.  We often spend time worrying about unimportant things.  I do. I do get bent out of shape over tiny insults; agonise over silly decisions that won’t matter next week. 

We often spend more time worrying about what we are going to wear, where we want to eat or what we are going to say, than we do enjoying our meals, experiencing what we are doing or having the conversations.

I told the girl, if you are wasting time lamenting over a lack of love, or loss of love, then I am pretty sure you are not spending time paying attention to the people who are already present in her life.

She nodded as if she suddenly got it. 

I told her I have spent a considerable amount of time sitting and ruminating on the nature of my existence and anxiously projecting what could have been.  But I realised just in time, that my time would be much better spent focusing on the work at hand, paying a tad more attention to the people around me, and reveling in the experiences that are happening in this very moment in time - which has proved to have been very rewarding to me.  

To all of us, some planning is necessary, taking action mandatory, but worrying…should REALLY be optional.  

I am grateful to Miss Mocha for giving me that bit of a kind reminder.  Could have treated her that cup, but too bad she insisted paying, left us with a generous tip some more!  

I love my job.     

Terrible Twos, Sweet Sixteen, What Not?

I am looking at the calendar and realised 2012 is ending and it suddenly dawns on me that my friend's daughter will be 3 soon. 

I can still remember how tiny she used to be at birth, cute eyes, little fingers and all of a sudden she has grown to become a little toddler.

People often refer to these precious little 2-year olds - terrible twos, because as I come to understand, they can be quite terrible human beings, horrible at that age.  

I was just joking, no they are not!  I think they are just discovering their personality at this stage.  The bad news is, depending on the personality they are choosing, they can become "Troublesome Three" the following year and remain troublesome for their whole lives!  Kidding again.  

I think calling them terrible twos is just an excuse for parents because each time their kids misbehave, they can just shrug it off and say "Oh Terrible Twos". 

Wouldn't it be great if we adults can have that sort of excuse too.  Say you were fighting with your partner in a restaurant and you turn to the waiter and go "Fussy Thirty-Twos"!

I can never quite understand Sweet Sixteen either.  Not sure many parents would agree their kids are exactly - sweet - at that age.  My 16 was donky years ago but I can't recall anything rebellious in my then existence, but looking at my auntie's son at dinner time, I really think the 16 year old these days should be genetically called:

"Texting-tweeting-no-I-won't-pull-my-ear-plug-out-of-my-iPod-during-dinner-I-hate-you-I-wish-I-was-never-borned-by-the-way-can-I-have-some-cash-cuz-I-have-used-up-my-cash-advances-sixteen". 

The name is a bit long but there you go. 
 

Became Member of the Serving Class

My love affair with coffee began years ago and over time, I must have drank gallons, spent hundreds of minutes waited in lines just for the taste of my love.  

And for the first time in my life, I was standing on the other side of the bar, serving coffee.  Real coffee.

An exhausting job on a busy day as you can imagine, I discovered there is actually something meditative about coffee brewing process that I enjoy almost as much as the coffee itself.  

The rhythm of the grinding of beans, the sound of the running water, the slow-dripping of an espresso shot, the formation of a soothing layer of crema and then the wait - watching the bloom of latte art, smelling the aroma released.  Each step in the ritual helps awaken and calm me. 

I appreciated the easy way my friends and family have taken to the idea of me working in a cafe, and the positive way some greeted the discovery.  

Every sip of my two to four cups of daily coffee has reminded me of the luck, the fate, the fortune of myself having the sheer chance to engage in this leisurely business.  A new chapter of life for me that has so far, widened my horizon, a platform where I have met people from different walks of life over a simple connection of - coffee!

My Latte Art Chronicle

I love my coffee and can't quite do without having a caffeine jab in a day.  Any overdose of almost anything as a rule of thumb, is going to have an adverse effect and the same hold true for coffee drinking.

Consuming 5-6 cups in an afternoon for an entire week, shall just about reach that point of diminishing returns for me.  

What has been happening lately when I have not been blogging is that, I have been practising some latte art - the often enticing, eye-pleasing work of art that sits on top of your lovely Caffe Latte.   I have to admit one can't quite get there without wasting a considerable amount of milk.  And the pouring has taken me - a long time to get past the internal organs stage of latte art.  


Embarrassing as it is, I have decided to share with you a chronicle of my progressing learning curve.   Please note the use of your imagination is a prerequisite in appreciating (some of) the art involved.


Day 1 - 2 : Nothing happened but repeats of this disappointing lump of foam.

Day 3: An attempt to wiggle "something" - I refuse to admit it looks like an insect, so - a bat it is.

Day 4: You messed up, but learned to cover up with some chocolate sauce, just about passed the eyes of the beholders.

Day 5:  This has to be a rose.  Come on, it has to be.  Ok. A wilted rose.

Day 6:  A Rosetta or a fern - Withstood under a strong gust of wind so half of it got blown away. 

Day 7:  A side view of rose petals.  No?  

Day 8:  Christmas came early - can you see Santa Clause smiling at you?

Day 9:  Just when you thought you got a slight hang of things...a bear and an octopus came to haunt you!













Oh well, I can also do a rendition of my small intestine...and yes I can pour a mean pancreas too and my spleen ain't bad either! 


Practice makes perfect they say.  At least I am pulling pretty good shots and steaming useful microfoam on day 10.  Till the next time you meet a horizontally grown Alampy - wish her luck!

What A Brilliant Life

I thought my life is brilliant because...

I tend to wake up when the Sun wakes up and I have no complaints about that.

I have just left a job that was envy to many and soon entering the kind of business, which again is - envy to many.

Lately what goes in my calendar appointments are generally meals instead of meetings.

I thought my life is brilliant because...

What I have in my to-do-list right now, consists of things from watering my sis' plants next door every other day, to registering online for an iPhone 5 daily until they decide to grant me a purchase ticket!
  

My life is brilliant still, with a 2-year old iPhone 4 (iOS 6) by the way.

And someone asked this lady of leisure nicely to be a lecturer.  

Did I hear myself correctly?  I think I did.  

I admire what teachers do, I do.  They all seem to have this fascinating will to make students behave and incent them to learn which, to me, are just beyond plain respectful.  I don't think I can do that, ever.  

Nonetheless, I can probably just about handle being a guest speaker in the form of a stand-up comedian, delivering course materials every now and then.  No problem.  

My life is brilliant not because I have the ability to buy a meal or purchase a commodity but because I have the ability AND opportunity to share my life-long learning with people I care and hopefully make a positive impact.   

I am sure your life is brilliant too, if in doubt, read this to yourself:  The world is your classroom, each day is a lesson and every one you meet is your teacher. 

Brit's Witty Sense of Humour

It's always good to have a bit of a giggle and I feel the Brit's witty sense of humour is the best. 

Here's a little tweet on Twitter earlier: 

"Woman gives birth on London Underground, considers naming the child accordingly. Thankfully the station was Kingsbury and not Elephant and Castle."



Tweets which followed 
(obviously raised by non-Brits): 


How could a woman give birth "on" London if she is underground?

Is the funny part that London is underground? It isn't, right? I mean London isn't, right?

Why would anyone name a kid "Accordingly"?  I don't get it.

I don't get the elephant in the castle part. It just doesn't make sense.

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If you are laughing your arse off, welcome on board.