Commitment VS Obligation

An orientation program talk I attended this week.

http://themetapicture.com/moms-who-else/

An old lady picks up carton boxes to earn some money for meals. A curious reporter approached the old lady one day and asked if he could capture her usual day down on film. She kindly allowed him to. Waking up at 5 in the morning, she goes about the neighborhood looking for discarded carton boxes along the corridors and on the streets. She ends her morning at 10 by selling away the boxes she has managed to gather, and earned herself a few bucks. She used the money she has earned, and buys a packet of rice and two plasters(a.k.a adhesive bandages). The curious reporter asked her "What are the plasters for?", she said "Oh, I need them.", and they head back to her house. 

She lives in a simple two room flat. And just as she opened the front door, two men, lying on a mattress on the floor, came into view. They entered the flat, and the old lady puts down the packet of rice and went into the kitchen. The two men grabbed the food and began gobbling it down. The reporter, shocked at what he had just witnessed, asked the old lady "They just ate the rice, what are you going to have for lunch??". The old lady smiled and said "Oh, no worries, I have mine right here." and she lifts up the cover of the wok, and what appears to be leftovers from a few days back fouled the entire kitchen. The reporter, disgusted by the sight of the food, continued filming as the old lady has her lunch. 

After lunch, the old lady approached the two men lying on the floor with the two plasters. The reporter asked "Who are they?", "They're my sons" the old lady replied. She peels off a worn off plaster from one of the men's arm, and applies the new plaster onto a wound. She applied the old and used plaster onto herself. The reporter, touched by the loving mother of two, observed that the old lady has an old bandage, torn and tattered and dyed in a color of dirty yellow, wrapped around her forehead, stopped filming. 

This was a story one of the instructors told us during the orientation program.

The question thrown to us was "How many of you are committed to taking care of your parents?". Majority, if not all, of us in the auditorium raised up our hands without hesitation. The instructor chuckled.
"Put your hands down" he said.
I was bemused by his snark dismissal at our answers.

"None of you are committed to your parents until the day they're bedridden. All of you are OBLIGED to take good care of them and care for them because of their actions." he continued.

"Obliged??" I questioned him in my head. It is most certainly not an obligation for me to take care of my parents, I was adamant about that. But what he said next got me and every single soul in the auditorium stumped and wondering to ourselves.

"Until the day your parents are bedridden, and when you have to turn them around every 10 - 30 minutes, then you can say that you're committed to caring and loving your parents. Otherwise, you're just obliged to taking care of them because they have raised you up. They have brought you into this world and cared for you until you are old enough to work and feed yourself. It's an obligation to take care of them, because it's the only socially acceptable action every child is obliged to do."

That was it, every thing I thought was right, was wrong. I've never gave that topic that much of a thought, because I thought I was committed all these while. I sincerely hope I'm committed to taking care of my parents. What good would I be if I grow up and becomes rich and powerful, but I throw my parents into an old folks home?

Commitment or Obligation? Your actions, your answers.

The view from the back of the van. A view that has my childhood written all over it. I miss being a kid.

The father I never had.

This is a story about the father I never had. It's really simple, but all too complicating to be explained in a few thousand words. The amount of hurt and disappointment throughout the years can never be written down or explained to you if you have never been through it. It all started yesterday night.

  It wasn't a competition, but it soon became a conversation that seemed as if it was. A night out with two friends became a 'therapy session'. As we sat down at a MacDonald's Restaurant, the word 'dad' soon became our topic of discussion. What started out as brief descriptions of how useless our dads were, became excruciatingly explicit detailed happenings of our lives with them. But among us was my friend, lets call him 'J', whom, have never experienced a bad night with his family couldn't understand a word we said because it was never part of his life. As my second friend, let's call him 'H', poured out his heart to us, I was awed at how he has managed to give me the impression that his life was never a troubled one. 

  My dad's drunken nights and H's dad's abusive actions were shared and discussed lengthily. For every disappointing actions my dad did, H came up with a better and more jaw dropping story of his dad's action. I wasn't backing down either, upping the tempo of the stories by adding older and clearer details of my dad's crazy actions. As the stories came pouring out like water out of a running tap, both of us came to the same exact point of asking our parents to get divorced. The words continued to jump out of our mouths as the food got gobbled up. A full stop soon came as our stories ended. It was surprising how our lives, seemingly similar, turned out to be so different. I told J that he was lucky to have such a sober minded family as we got off our seats, and hopped into the car and drove off to our next destination. 

The sequel to the first reason for this post happened just a couple of hours ago.
My dad was high on beer again, and he called back home to ask if we wanted dinner. To cut short the conversation I had with him, he didn't want me to get a hold of his location, but wouldn't tell me what he could get for me at where he was at. And when I told him of the food I wanted, he claimed that it was too much of a hassle because it wasn't sold at the location he was at. So, to make his life easier, I told him to get me a packet of flat rice noodles. After shouting into the phone for three times, he hung up on me because he 'couldn't hear me'. I know this is a really pathetic reason to get so upset with your parent. But it's not just this instance that caused me to curse at will, in front of my very demure mother, with vulgarities that were not tolerated in this household. It's his actions and his words that made me disappointed and angry at the same time.

These were my initial reactions, "Fuck you man, do what you wanna do".

  My mother was clearly upset at my sudden outburst at my dad. She never encouraged us to get mad or cuss at my dad behind his back, and she's always asked us to treat him with utmost respect despite of all his wrongdoings. I needed to post this up, I thought to myself. -Because I had just finished reading a paragraph in "I'm Sorry You Felt This Way". It was about the author's own invention of the dad she wanted to be the child of. 

  I thought about stuffs, and went back down to confront my mother. My first words to her were "What are your reasons to not agreeing to divorce him?", I didn't even address him as dad or father as I normally would. We chatted and she told some stories. She gave reasons and she gave examples. And finally, I was convinced. She said,

Her mom, my grandmother, used to be worse than my dad. She would drink and get drunk, throw fits and chided my grandfather, whom I've never met before, till no end. My mom, like me, said she wanted to have nothing to do with my grandmother. But after my mother got married and had my sisters, my grandmother changed for the better. Way better than she ever was. She did some stuffs that are better left unsaid on this blog, that made my mother forgave her every actions for they were in the past. There's no point bearing grudges because you might live to regret them one day. Don't let your anger make you do stuffs that you might come to regret when you're older. 

It was actually the story of my mom and my grandmother that moved me. Made me change my perspective of things and how to deal with them. Before you do something, think of the future and picture it.

-Is what you're doing going to change the looks of your own future? Are you sure you're okay to live that life? These are the questions, find the answers yourself.

The father I've invented for myself. 
  
  The father I've invented for myself is sitting at the dining table, shirtless, with a cup of hot coffee. He reads the newspaper as the rest of the family crawls their way down early in the morning. Warm milo and coffee prepared for us, he comments on the news article he has just finished. 
  It's 6pm of 2000, and he drives into my school in his van. I hopped into his van and he greets me with a smile. He traded a few words with the disciplinary master while I gazed upon the orange sky. He drives us home, and talks to me about sports. 
  Upon reaching the doors of my home, he says, go take a shower and come down for dinner, in the mildest tone. 

I thought this post was a little too serious, lighten up a little with EMT.

Changes

Warning, the following content contain some disturbing images of me that may cause nightmares. However, there may be a couple of cute baby pictures of me.


Some of the following pictures are classified and this is the first time the world is going to see them. Enjoy.


Probably only 10% of you will read this small portion, but I'm going to type it out anyways. I was never, and still am not, the most photogenic boy I wish I could someday become. I am always shying away from the camera lenses and I am always the dark shadow lurking behind the group when the group shots were taken. I am the awkward guy in the class photo, the guy with the awkward smile, and I guess I have turned out to be the guy that have changed the most in the past few years. Let's proceed, shall we?

Wedding photos in Chronological order.

2006 or 2007

2007 or 2008

2012

Group photos in Chronological Order.

2008; Last year being a real teen.

2009; Beginning of the young-adult phase.

2010; Frisbee

2010

2011; July

2011; August

2011; November

2011; December babies

Me in Chronological Order, obviously.

Nekkid.

Eh? I'm not sure how old I was in this photo.

Learnt my 'gangsterish attitude' from my dad. No joke.

Graduating from Kindergarten. 6 year old.

Annoyed dad, and the nerdy me in the zoo. 8 year old.

Birthday celebration at my house. 10 or 11 year old.

First year in college. 17 year old.

First year in Frisbee, 17 year old.

Kinda look like my dad, don't i?

Ngeh?

Friend tang's Birthday. Awkward face. 18 year old.

Momma and I, 19 year old.

The most recent picture of me. Shameless I know. 2012

   That is all for this picture filled post. The reason why I had this sudden urge to shamelessly post up all of my pictures is because of the small chat I had with my mom just a few hours ago. I talk to her quite a few times a week, and every time we do, the juice in my brain just gets pumped up. It's a bad metaphor, sorry for that. But the talks always get me thinking, alot. This chat we had was about changes about me. Thus, the photos. How did I grow from such a cute little, innocent looking baby, into the wreck I am now.

   Okay, last small detail before I end this post. I remember looking into my reflection on the microwave oven's door, and thinking to myself, when I was 8, "Why am I so ugly while all of my friends are so good looking?". I was constantly questioning my mom on why I have such bad looks all the while I was growing up. I don't know why I have such little confidence in myself. I can still feel the emotion I felt when I was 8. Okay, enough of feeling sad for myself.

I leave you with two pictures from 9gag.

Stay grounded.

In a week's time, I will be free from all the studying, for now. It's the last stretch to reach that freedom, it's going to be tough, and I want to make it.

I went studying with a couple of my friends yesterday night, and two of them are living the pretty life. Money, babes, alcohol, everything that is considered taboo to the current society. They were talking about the lives in clubs and travelling all over the world, and they were speaking with such ease about throwing money away. Four-twenty meant $420 for a bottle of alcohol, but for the rest of us listening to them, this "four-twenty" meant $4.20 for a slightly overpriced meal. The difference between them and I is the way we view the value of money. What they can get in a day, is what I get in a month. The details doesn't matter.

After the study session was over, my other friend and I were talking while waiting for the first bus at 530am. With clear sober minds, we spoke of how our everything is so different between the rich and the poor. Then we realized that we are happy with the way things are going for us because we are easily satisfied. Don't judge, we may not have the wealth and all, but we have simplicity in our lives. The little things, like getting 20$ from my parents mean two extra meals for me, meant nothing to them. The perspectives of different things was just mind blowing. But we were not the least jealous, because that's their lives. And we should concentrate on living our lives instead of fantasizing of what we can't have that people have in theirs.

Here's something that intrigued me and got me thinking. It's old news, but it's gold.
Charlie Sheen Interview
Charlie Sheen and his Goddesses
It's such a hassle when ABC disable the embedding request.

It's these comments that made me think differently about Charlie Sheen.

Also, I read this short story in a book my friend had lent me. 

Paulo Coelho - Like the Flowing River

Moral of this post, live your life. Don't be a fool and try living other people's lives. What matters the most is your own story. Stay grounded till it's time to fly. Don't take flight when your wings have not fully grown. The stories I heard my friends told yesterday kept me thinking, and they made me stay grounded. I don't want to live the life like theirs. I'm happy with the one I'm living right now.

Your story don't end till you're six feet under.

Worth more than pennies.

Eating a humongous bowl of cereal, drowned in sweet chocolate milk, in the middle of the night/morning at 2:28am.
This is after the 1/2 hour spent on eating a bowl of fishball soup, that included 8 fishballs and some minced meat, and listening to the midnight conversation my mom and sister were having.

Topic discussed: Life.

They were talking about my aunt's daughters not being able to sit down and have a nice conversation, without it turning sour in a matter of minutes. Yes, they were never really close as siblings.

So I was thinking about some stuffs. And how people always expect others to change instead of them changing for the better. Isn't it easier to change yourself, than to try and change others. I mean, you know your flaws, you know which parts of yourself that need to be tweaked, isn't that much easier than going around finding faults in others and telling them to change for you?

I've never expected anyone to change for me. And even if I did, I never went around telling them that they needed change. One, because I know I'm not exactly a role model, and that makes me unqualified to do that. And two, no one will change themselves for me. I'm as insignificant as pennies are to the world right now.

This song is so good words can't articulate

IF I die young, promise me you'll at least come and bid goodbye for the last time? 

I broke down; tears were found.

I actually cried my heart out today. The last time I cried was last year if I'm not wrong. I dreamt that my dad wanted me dead and things he said in the dream felt so real.
But today was different. I cried because I lost it, I felt so helpless. I cried because of my 'friends'. I remember the last time I cried over my friends was way back in 2008. The problem with me is that I tend to befriend people who have no friends. I hate seeing people get beat down, so I always help those that needed a hand. But I guess no one is willing to reach out to me. No matter how many times I've fallen in my life, my mom was always the one that helped me back up. No one else, just my mom. She's my pillar, I don't know what kind of a person I would be today if she wasn't there to guide me along.

So I got home with a troubled mind, and thoughts of suicide and killing people. I told my mom I wanted to kill somebody, and she sat me down and talked to me. I teared when she started, and burst into tears soon after. I couldn't control my emotions, they overwhelmed me and took me by surprise. I thought I was strong enough, it seems like I am not. So from today onwards, I'm just going to do my shit and go home. I ain't going to tell nobody shit, I'm just going to take full responsibility for every action I take. If this is how my life is going to be, I accept reality. Maybe my mom was right all the while, maybe I can trust only so few people.

Morale of the story. I hate people, and people hate me. Maybe that's why I always roll alone. Maybe people hate me more than I hate them.

To realize and to learn.

I remember saying that I was so angry because of all the raps I was listening to. I was so influenced by the raps that I started hating on everybody. But I just realized that they weren't made for us to get mad at people, they were made when the rappers were mad at people, and they just want us NOT to follow in their footsteps.
So the most recent raps I begin to listen to are really really inspiring, and they taught me alot. As usual, all the meanings and explanations were all made up by me.

As I sat down for dinner, my mom watched. We began to talk, from school work to life, to the past and the future. I told my mom, "Do you remember when you told me not to trust my friend too much?", she nodded. I continued on with my story on how they have lost all of my trust and all of the hatred I have on them are turning into inspirations for me to write down rhymes. I don't call them raps or songs, because they're just bits and pieces of my thoughts and I just jot them down, and most of them don't even rhyme.

Over the past year, I've grown up so much. I've stayed my distance, because I didn't dare to step into a friendship my mom have no trust in. You see, my mom have been my "fortune teller" for my whole entire life, and I trust her so much, I show her all of my friends' pictures so that she could tell me more about them. Her predictions, or views on my friends, have been so true. You really have to know her to believe me.

So, I'm here to tell you readers,
-help people without expecting people to help you back. Help with no regrets and no expectations.
-Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh, they can all get fucked. Just stay true to you so, don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful. Oh they can all get fucked, just stay true to you (Beautiful - Eminem : Relapse)
-When they push you down, you gotta get back up. (Get Back Up Feat Chris Brown - T.I. : No Mercy)
Last but not least, know that no matter what happens in your life. No matter who backstabs you and who spits on you, know that life goes on. You just gotta stand back up.

And do know that I'm here always ready to give you any type of advice you need, that are within my dictionary or capabilities to give you advices. I may not be right, but I try my best to help anyone that is worth helping.
Check back soon, or not.
Peace.