Some people advocated that by talking less, it will create less problem.
But that for one is a very general statement that does hold water at all.
A simple fact is the people with speech disabilities surely encounters more difficulties in life.
Probably the problem does not really lie in the words or phrases coming out of the oral cavity. At the end of the day, the real organ that governs how that message will be expressed or interpreted is the might bulk in the cranial cavity.
Here's Buddhism collection of guide in Right Speech.
Right Speech is the third of the eight path factors in the Noble Eightfold Path, and belongs to the virtue division of the path.
The definition
"And what is right speech? Abstaining from lying, from divisive speech, from abusive speech, & from idle chatter: This is called right speech."
— SN 45.8
Five keys to right speech
"Monks, a statement endowed with five factors is well-spoken, not ill-spoken. It is blameless & unfaulted by knowledgeable people. Which five?
"It is spoken at the right time. It is spoken in truth. It is spoken affectionately. It is spoken beneficially. It is spoken with a mind of good-will."
— AN 5.198
The danger in lying
"For the person who transgresses in one thing, I tell you, there is no evil deed that is not to be done. Which one thing? This: telling a deliberate lie."
The person who lies,
who transgress in this one thing,
transcending concern for the world beyond:
there's no evil
he might not do.
— Iti 25
Speak only words that do no harm
"One should speak only that word by which one would not torment oneself nor harm others. That word is indeed well spoken.
"One should speak only pleasant words, words which are acceptable (to others). What one speaks without bringing evils to others is pleasant."
— Thag 21
Self-purification through well-chosen speech
"And how is one made pure in four ways by verbal action?
"There is the case where a certain person, abandoning false speech, abstains from false speech. When he has been called to a town meeting, a group meeting, a gathering of his relatives, his guild, or of the royalty, if he is asked as a witness, 'Come & tell, good man, what you know': If he doesn't know, he says, 'I don't know.' If he does know, he says, 'I know.' If he hasn't seen, he says, 'I haven't seen.' If he has seen, he says, 'I have seen.' Thus he doesn't consciously tell a lie for his own sake, for the sake of another, or for the sake of any reward. Abandoning false speech, he abstains from false speech. He speaks the truth, holds to the truth, is firm, reliable, no deceiver of the world.
"Abandoning divisive speech he abstains from divisive speech. What he has heard here he does not tell there to break those people apart from these people here. What he has heard there he does not tell here to break these people apart from those people there. Thus reconciling those who have broken apart or cementing those who are united, he loves concord, delights in concord, enjoys concord, speaks things that create concord.
"Abandoning abusive speech, he abstains from abusive speech. He speaks words that are soothing to the ear, that are affectionate, that go to the heart, that are polite, appealing & pleasing to people at large.
"Abandoning idle chatter, he abstains from idle chatter. He speaks in season, speaks what is factual, what is in accordance with the goal, the Dhamma, & the Vinaya. He speaks words worth treasuring, seasonable, reasonable, circumscribed, connected with the goal.
"This is how one is made pure in four ways by verbal action."
— AN 10.176
Its relation to the other factors of the path
"And how is right view the forerunner? One discerns wrong speech as wrong speech, and right speech as right speech. And what is wrong speech? Lying, divisive tale-bearing, abusive speech, & idle chatter. This is wrong speech...
"One tries to abandon wrong speech & to enter into right speech: This is one's right effort. One is mindful to abandon wrong speech & to enter & remain in right speech: This is one's right mindfulness. Thus these three qualities — right view, right effort, & right mindfulness — run & circle around right speech."
— MN 117
The criteria for deciding what is worth saying
[1] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be unfactual, untrue, unbeneficial (or: not connected with the goal), unendearing & disagreeable to others, he does not say them.
[2] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, unendearing & disagreeable to others, he does not say them.
[3] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, but unendearing & disagreeable to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them.
[4] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be unfactual, untrue, unbeneficial, but endearing & agreeable to others, he does not say them.
[5] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, but endearing & agreeable to others, he does not say them.
[6] "In the case of words that the Tathagata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, and endearing & agreeable to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them. Why is that? Because the Tathagata has sympathy for living beings."
— MN 58
Speak only the speech
that neither torments self
nor does harm to others.
That speech is truly well spoken.
Speak only endearing speech,
speech that is welcomed.
Speech when it brings no evil
to others
is pleasant.
— Sn 3.3
Reflect on your speech, before, during, and after speaking
[The Buddha speaks to his son, Rahula:] "Whenever you want to perform a verbal act, you should reflect on it: 'This verbal act I want to perform — would it lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both? Is it an unskillful verbal act, with painful consequences, painful results?' If, on reflection, you know that it would lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both; it would be an unskillful verbal act with painful consequences, painful results, then any verbal act of that sort is absolutely unfit for you to do. But if on reflection you know that it would not cause affliction... it would be a skillful verbal action with happy consequences, happy results, then any verbal act of that sort is fit for you to do.
"While you are performing a verbal act, you should reflect on it: 'This verbal act I am doing — is it leading to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both? Is it an unskillful verbal act, with painful consequences, painful results?' If, on reflection, you know that it is leading to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both... you should give it up. But if on reflection you know that it is not... you may continue with it.
"Having performed a verbal act, you should reflect on it... If, on reflection, you know that it led to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both; it was an unskillful verbal act with painful consequences, painful results, then you should confess it, reveal it, lay it open to the Teacher or to a knowledgeable companion in the holy life. Having confessed it... you should exercise restraint in the future. But if on reflection you know that it did not lead to affliction... it was a skillful verbal action with happy consequences, happy results, then you should stay mentally refreshed and joyful, training day and night in skillful mental qualities."
— MN 61
Kinds of speech to be avoided by contemplatives
"Whereas some priests and contemplatives, living off food given in faith, are addicted to talking about lowly topics such as these — talking about kings, robbers, ministers of state; armies, alarms, and battles; food and drink; clothing, furniture, garlands, and scents; relatives; vehicles; villages, towns, cities, the countryside; women and heroes; the gossip of the street and the well; tales of the dead; tales of diversity [philosophical discussions of the past and future], the creation of the world and of the sea, and talk of whether things exist or not — he abstains from talking about lowly topics such as these. This, too, is part of his virtue.
"Whereas some priests and contemplatives, living off food given in faith, are addicted to debates such as these — 'You understand this doctrine and discipline? I'm the one who understands this doctrine and discipline. How could you understand this doctrine and discipline? You're practicing wrongly. I'm practicing rightly. I'm being consistent. You're not. What should be said first you said last. What should be said last you said first. What you took so long to think out has been refuted. Your doctrine has been overthrown. You're defeated. Go and try to salvage your doctrine; extricate yourself if you can!' — he abstains from debates such as these. This, too, is part of his virtue."
— DN 2
"Monks, do not wage wordy warfare, saying: 'You don't understand this Dhamma and discipline, I understand this Dhamma and discipline'; 'How could you understand it? You have fallen into wrong practices: I have the right practice'; 'You have said afterwards what you should have said first, and you have said first what you should have said afterwards'; 'What I say is consistent, what you say isn't'; 'What you have thought out for so long is entirely reversed'; 'Your statement is refuted'; 'You are talking rubbish!'; 'You are in the wrong'; 'Get out of that if you can!'
"Why should you not do this? Such talk, monks, is not related to the goal, it is not fundamental to the holy life, does not conduce to disenchantment, dispassion, cessation, tranquillity, higher knowledge, enlightenment or to Nibbana. When you have discussions, monks, you should discuss Suffering, the Arising of Suffering, its Cessation, and the Path that leads to its Cessation. Why is that? Because such talk is related to the goal... it conduces to disenchantment... to Nibbana. This is the task you must accomplish."
— SN 56.9
Ten wholesome topics of conversation
"There are these ten topics of [proper] conversation. Which ten? Talk on modesty, on contentment, on seclusion, on non-entanglement, on arousing persistence, on virtue, on concentration, on discernment, on release, and on the knowledge & vision of release. These are the ten topics of conversation. If you were to engage repeatedly in these ten topics of conversation, you would outshine even the sun & moon, so mighty, so powerful — to say nothing of the wanderers of other sects."
— AN 10.69
How to admonish another skillfully
"O bhikkhus, a bhikkhu who desires to admonish another should do so after investigating five conditions in himself and after establishing five other conditions in himself. What are the five conditions which he should investigate in himself?
[1] "Am I one who practices purity in bodily action, flawless and untainted...?
[2] "Am I one who practices purity in speech, flawless and untainted...?
[3] "Is the heart of goodwill, free from malice, established in me towards fellow-farers in the holy life...?
[4] "Am I or am I not one who has heard much, who bears in mind what he has heard, who stores up what he has heard? Those teachings which are good alike in their beginning, middle, and ending, proclaiming perfectly the spirit and the letter of the utterly purified holy life — have such teachings been much heard by me, borne in mind, practiced in speech, pondered in the heart and rightly penetrated by insight...?
[5] "Are the Patimokkhas [rules of conduct for monks and nuns] in full thoroughly learned by heart, well-analyzed with thorough knowledge of their meanings, clearly divided sutta by sutta and known in minute detail by me...?
"These five conditions must be investigated in himself.
"And what other five conditions must be established in himself?
[1] "Do I speak at the right time, or not?
[2] "Do I speak of facts, or not?
[3] "Do I speak gently or harshly?
[4] "Do I speak profitable words or not?
[5] "Do I speak with a kindly heart, or inwardly malicious?
"O bhikkhus, these five conditions are to be investigated in himself and the latter five established in himself by a bhikkhu who desires to admonish another."
— AN V (From The Patimokkha, Ñanamoli Thera, trans.)
Perhaps the title does sound a bit out of place and extraordinarily space-like. Nevertheless, it is an earthly-affair.
I was being returned to hiking up to Station Number 5 through the jungle route of Sua Tu Kia (Little Wild Hogs) from the Moongate, together with my colleague and superior.
First time. Breathless. Tachycardic, almost SVT. Sore gastrocnemius.
Second time. Still breathless. Still tachycardic. Took a few pics. Explored other routes in descending. Got lost for half an hour. Reach the bottom before looming dark.
The natural arc (lower one third)
Red yellow shades of leaves.
Monkeys going my way... (Looks like a scene from Planet of Apes)
Moments before being lost. All smiles.
Decided to introduce the exciting route to my Dearest. Impromptu decision to hike. Aedan broke down in tears. Heartbroken at the decision to leave him behind. Brought him along as unable to persuade him otherwise.
Stretching his legs high up
Turning left to the Sua Tu Kia (Little Wild Hogs) trail On the right would be Sua Tu Lor (Wild Hogs Road) Both not-so-halal...
Not able to hold a smile. Tired.
Finally, we reached Station 5. Aedan was still energetic.
And it was pitch black the last half 15minutes of our descend.
Note to self: If Aedan tagging along, should go earlier.
This Google doodle vid melted my heart, mainly because my wife is as cute as the girl in the vid and she can do rope-skipping in thousands per session.
But the most wonderful message would be there is never a better Valentine's gift of love than the devotion, interest and respect of each others' world.
At some point of time, I realized that to be using the term girl/boyfriend and husband loosely may not be politically-correct, especially at other part of the world where being married isn't synonymous to being together or vice versa. Thus, it would be appropriate to address our other half as partner.
I brought up and discussed this '5 types' of people last year with someone - a single and available Indian guy house officer with the sexiest voice. He was on call on last Valentine, simply because he was in the '5 Types'. And as I was wondering whether he's also on call today (not a good thing to be thinking of another guy during Valentine), I think not, because house officers no longer have on calls.
Here are the Pilo's 5 types of On Call doctors:
1. No partner - no date, hate the cynical stare, making work as the love of his/her life.
2. Too many partners - can't date all in one single day, better let work be the ultimate excuse.
3. Too loving/long term with partner - either the steam had already iced down or the steam is hotter than ever everyday.
4. Partner also on call - having the delusional idea of having lovely 'Valentine' on call.
5. Forced to be on call - frequently happens, especially if you're at the lower hierarchy, or all you're the only sacrifice as you're the only exception to the couple charade. - or you refused to be SHO giving the excuse that you need more time to go for 'dating'.
Happy Valentine's Day...
Here's the perception on Doctors..
P.S. My dearest made the most wonderful V-Day cake for me. I named it Dragon Valentine Grape-Mango, Lite Cheese, Fresh Cream Stripey Cake. Sei Mei!
one moment, I was happily snapping photos of the lectures and the next moment, my lens wouldn't retract back. no trauma, no assault, no nothing. just like that. it got stuck, like my camera caught priapism without any foreplay.
i brought it to the service center and they came up with the repair price of one third of the cost of the whole camera. devastated, but i have to give in. no camera for x'mas, hope by chinese new year, it'll be ready and durable.
not so long ago, I wrote about the fine line and came up with a quote.
there's a fine line between dedication and obsession. dedication is when you're crazy in your passion, obsession is when you're driving everyone crazy in your passion.
my junior colleague, T21 (who is stalking this blog) praised me for having the balls to write about one of our dedicated superior.
first of all, it didn't cross my mind that it could have been misinterpreted, because most of my rantings are my personal reflections.
buddhism has taught me that no one can bother us except ourselves. from the beginning, there is never an 'I' to begin with.
anyway, to be honest, i need to eat the humble pie and confess that I was the obsessed one few weeks ago. probably more of being possessed.
i was obsessed with my struggle in preparing for my exam, struggling with the remainder of my time after my work commitment which includes clinical groundwork, sudden presentation at state level, urgent preparation for maternal mortality and etc.
i neglected my daughter at some point of time. i knew she was having upper respiratory tract infection, did initial check up and provided the medicine to my wife. But her conditions persisted for more than 4 days and she was suddenly turn listless. i had to rush back from work. she was weak and tired from all the vomiting induced by her cough. her lungs had some fine creps and chest x-ray was with some minute haziness. luckily, Dr.C, the paeds consultant sacrificed little time she had (being busy with clinical work and managing house officers) assessed her and reassured wifey and me. thank to our lucky stars, a good dose of 2nd line antibiotics did the job well and all our crazy worries subsided. it was impeccable timing for Genevieve to recover for the day she turned one.
at some point of time, i also raised my voice (a bit) in public at wifey for her time at the market was taking up my time for library. at the end, i felt like punching myself with a clenched fist. i felt like a total crap, a jerk and a psycho (is there a single word that meant those three combined?)
from now on, i allow myself to be dedicated, but not obsessed with my passion and anything else.
Following a good reckons from scott, I found the following article a worthy read at any time of the year, especially for new parents torn between maintaining the hard solid commando-style conservative Chinese parenting while being constantly challenged by the new-world liberal Western-style parenting.
To be purely frank to everyone, for the past few years, parenting was a roller-coaster ride. Now, it's like the pirate ship ride. The ups and downs are still there, but much more, much much more predictable.
Coercion is everywhere whether you're looking or not. At times, the level of tension that these coercion can bring can be many times the stress level of presenting in a maternal mortality review at every level. At times, you just break down to tears, physically or internally, and try your best to convince yourself, for that moment that you have not lose your sanity. I am blardy sure those who have their children with them in those early years will share the same sentiment.
If anyone would to ask me whether I am a good father, my answer to this blissful question, not out of courtesy or purely being humble or polite, the truth is I am not sure, I am still learning, I am still holding on and I am sure I can fully qualify to be good.
But one thing that I can be sure of, without any doubt, without any reservation, that my dearest is a good mother with a good degree of relevant superiority.
A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies, what it's like inside the family, and whether they could do it too. Well, I can tell them, because I've done it. Here are some things my daughters, Sophia and Louisa, were never allowed to do:
Amy Chua with her daughters, Louisa and Sophia, at their home in New Haven, Conn.
• attend a sleepover
• have a playdate
• be in a school play
• complain about not being in a school play
• watch TV or play computer games
• choose their own extracurricular activities
• get any grade less than an A
• not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama
• play any instrument other than the piano or violin
• not play the piano or violin.
I'm using the term "Chinese mother" loosely. I know some Korean, Indian, Jamaican, Irish and Ghanaian parents who qualify too. Conversely, I know some mothers of Chinese heritage, almost always born in the West, who are not Chinese mothers, by choice or otherwise. I'm also using the term "Western parents" loosely. Western parents come in all varieties.
All the same, even when Western parents think they're being strict, they usually don't come close to being Chinese mothers. For example, my Western friends who consider themselves strict make their children practice their instruments 30 minutes every day. An hour at most. For a Chinese mother, the first hour is the easy part. It's hours two and three that get tough.
When it comes to parenting, the Chinese seem to produce children who display academic excellence, musical mastery and professional success - or so the stereotype goes. WSJ's Christina Tsuei speaks to two moms raised by Chinese immigrants who share what it was like growing up and how they hope to raise their children.
Despite our squeamishness about cultural stereotypes, there are tons of studies out there showing marked and quantifiable differences between Chinese and Westerners when it comes to parenting. In one study of 50 Western American mothers and 48 Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that "stressing academic success is not good for children" or that "parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun." By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way. Instead, the vast majority of the Chinese mothers said that they believe their children can be "the best" students, that "academic achievement reflects successful parenting," and that if children did not excel at school then there was "a problem" and parents "were not doing their job." Other studies indicate that compared to Western parents, Chinese parents spend approximately 10 times as long every day drilling academic activities with their children. By contrast, Western kids are more likely to participate in sports teams.
What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle. Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America. Once a child starts to excel at something—whether it's math, piano, pitching or ballet—he or she gets praise, admiration and satisfaction. This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun. This in turn makes it easier for the parent to get the child to work even more.
Chinese parents can get away with things that Western parents can't. Once when I was young—maybe more than once—when I was extremely disrespectful to my mother, my father angrily called me "garbage" in our native Hokkien dialect. It worked really well. I felt terrible and deeply ashamed of what I had done. But it didn't damage my self-esteem or anything like that. I knew exactly how highly he thought of me. I didn't actually think I was worthless or feel like a piece of garbage.
From Ms. Chua's album: 'Mean me with Lulu in hotel room... with score taped to TV!'
As an adult, I once did the same thing to Sophia, calling her garbage in English when she acted extremely disrespectfully toward me. When I mentioned that I had done this at a dinner party, I was immediately ostracized. One guest named Marcy got so upset she broke down in tears and had to leave early. My friend Susan, the host, tried to rehabilitate me with the remaining guests.
The fact is that Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable—even legally actionable—to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, "Hey fatty—lose some weight." By contrast, Western parents have to tiptoe around the issue, talking in terms of "health" and never ever mentioning the f-word, and their kids still end up in therapy for eating disorders and negative self-image. (I also once heard a Western father toast his adult daughter by calling her "beautiful and incredibly competent." She later told me that made her feel like garbage.)
Chinese parents can order their kids to get straight As. Western parents can only ask their kids to try their best. Chinese parents can say, "You're lazy. All your classmates are getting ahead of you." By contrast, Western parents have to struggle with their own conflicted feelings about achievement, and try to persuade themselves that they're not disappointed about how their kids turned out.
I've thought long and hard about how Chinese parents can get away with what they do. I think there are three big differences between the Chinese and Western parental mind-sets.
First, I've noticed that Western parents are extremely anxious about their children's self-esteem. They worry about how their children will feel if they fail at something, and they constantly try to reassure their children about how good they are notwithstanding a mediocre performance on a test or at a recital. In other words, Western parents are concerned about their children's psyches. Chinese parents aren't. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result they behave very differently.
For example, if a child comes home with an A-minus on a test, a Western parent will most likely praise the child. The Chinese mother will gasp in horror and ask what went wrong. If the child comes home with a B on the test, some Western parents will still praise the child. Other Western parents will sit their child down and express disapproval, but they will be careful not to make their child feel inadequate or insecure, and they will not call their child "stupid," "worthless" or "a disgrace." Privately, the Western parents may worry that their child does not test well or have aptitude in the subject or that there is something wrong with the curriculum and possibly the whole school. If the child's grades do not improve, they may eventually schedule a meeting with the school principal to challenge the way the subject is being taught or to call into question the teacher's credentials.
If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion. The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A.
Chinese parents demand perfect grades because they believe that their child can get them. If their child doesn't get them, the Chinese parent assumes it's because the child didn't work hard enough. That's why the solution to substandard performance is always to excoriate, punish and shame the child. The Chinese parent believes that their child will be strong enough to take the shaming and to improve from it. (And when Chinese kids do excel, there is plenty of ego-inflating parental praise lavished in the privacy of the home.)
Sophia playing at Carnegie Hall in 2007.
Second, Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything. The reason for this is a little unclear, but it's probably a combination of Confucian filial piety and the fact that the parents have sacrificed and done so much for their children. (And it's true that Chinese mothers get in the trenches, putting in long grueling hours personally tutoring, training, interrogating and spying on their kids.) Anyway, the understanding is that Chinese children must spend their lives repaying their parents by obeying them and making them proud.
By contrast, I don't think most Westerners have the same view of children being permanently indebted to their parents. My husband, Jed, actually has the opposite view. "Children don't choose their parents," he once said to me. "They don't even choose to be born. It's parents who foist life on their kids, so it's the parents' responsibility to provide for them. Kids don't owe their parents anything. Their duty will be to their own kids." This strikes me as a terrible deal for the Western parent.
Third, Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children's own desires and preferences. That's why Chinese daughters can't have boyfriends in high school and why Chinese kids can't go to sleepaway camp. It's also why no Chinese kid would ever dare say to their mother, "I got a part in the school play! I'm Villager Number Six. I'll have to stay after school for rehearsal every day from 3:00 to 7:00, and I'll also need a ride on weekends." God help any Chinese kid who tried that one.
Don't get me wrong: It's not that Chinese parents don't care about their children. Just the opposite. They would give up anything for their children. It's just an entirely different parenting model.
Here's a story in favor of coercion, Chinese-style. Lulu was about 7, still playing two instruments, and working on a piano piece called "The Little White Donkey" by the French composer Jacques Ibert. The piece is really cute—you can just imagine a little donkey ambling along a country road with its master—but it's also incredibly difficult for young players because the two hands have to keep schizophrenically different rhythms.
Lulu couldn't do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.
"Get back to the piano now," I ordered.
"You can't make me."
"Oh yes, I can."
Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, "I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?" I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.
Jed took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu—which I wasn't even doing, I was just motivating her—and that he didn't think threatening Lulu was helpful. Also, he said, maybe Lulu really just couldn't do the technique—perhaps she didn't have the coordination yet—had I considered that possibility?
"You just don't believe in her," I accused.
"That's ridiculous," Jed said scornfully. "Of course I do."
"Sophia could play the piece when she was this age."
"But Lulu and Sophia are different people," Jed pointed out.
"Oh no, not this," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everyone is special in their special own way," I mimicked sarcastically. "Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don't worry, you don't have to lift a finger. I'm willing to put in as long as it takes, and I'm happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games."
I rolled up my sleeves and went back to Lulu. I used every weapon and tactic I could think of. We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn't let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts.
Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together—her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing—just like that.
Lulu realized it the same time I did. I held my breath. She tried it tentatively again. Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming.
"Mommy, look—it's easy!" After that, she wanted to play the piece over and over and wouldn't leave the piano. That night, she came to sleep in my bed, and we snuggled and hugged, cracking each other up. When she performed "The Little White Donkey" at a recital a few weeks later, parents came up to me and said, "What a perfect piece for Lulu—it's so spunky and so her."
Even Jed gave me credit for that one. Western parents worry a lot about their children's self-esteem. But as a parent, one of the worst things you can do for your child's self-esteem is to let them give up. On the flip side, there's nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn't.
There are all these new books out there portraying Asian mothers as scheming, callous, overdriven people indifferent to their kids' true interests. For their part, many Chinese secretly believe that they care more about their children and are willing to sacrifice much more for them than Westerners, who seem perfectly content to let their children turn out badly. I think it's a misunderstanding on both sides. All decent parents want to do what's best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that.
Western parents try to respect their children's individuality, encouraging them to pursue their true passions, supporting their choices, and providing positive reinforcement and a nurturing environment. By contrast, the Chinese believe that the best way to protect their children is by preparing them for the future, letting them see what they're capable of, and arming them with skills, work habits and inner confidence that no one can ever take away.
Clearly, boons stand out in both the Chinese and Western ways. But the Western parents' view of children being not in debt to parents does, at the simplest logic and common sense - a terrible deal for the parents.
Something from the Buddha scripts once mentioned, even if you carry your mother in left shoulder and your father in the right, and to walk for 10 years, you still can't repay your parents.
Every child like to go against the parents. It's not only a cool thing to do, but it's something that feel right at some point of time.
Nevertheless, at any level, overindulgence of disobedience of a child, no matter at a teenager or as an adult, is a crime in the first degree, being amnesic of all the sacrifices that parents had made over the decades, especially those early painstaking early years.
after my achilles tendon repair, it is vital that I lose weight, mainly to avoid the nightmare of rerupture. I think it is more than a nightmare if I were to rerupture, it's a catastrophe.
losing weight can be a daunting task for me for 2 reasons.
first, heavy calories-losing sports are simply out of the plan mainly because my previous injury. it's a 9 months ban from my surgeon. it's a 1 year ban from myself. it's a probably lifetime ban from my dearest, considering the agony that I had put her through having to have it at such a bad time of the year. talk about going through thick and thin.
second, good food are everywhere in Penang. and i mean, really good food. plus, the wedding dinner marathon scattered around december.
my dearest is the overlord of weight-losing and master of calory-counting and her hellish high-stress diet plan doesn't really fit my happy-go-lucky profile.
Anyway, I rejoiced this morning, having to know I lost 5kgs over 3 months, using the simple plan of having lower calories breakfast, high protein dinner and weigh myself daily.
A study in the British Journal of Cancer appears to show that men whose ring fingers are longer than their index fingers are more likely to develop prostate cancer. If you're a man, chances are you've already checked your fingers and found cause for alarm. Don't worry too much: the majority of men have a longer ring finger.
In addition to being disheartened, you probably also found checking your fingers for length a bit familiar: in the last 10 years, "digit ratio" has been alleged to predict many different traits, risks, advantages and deficiencies. What else might your fingers tell you?
That you're a man Digit ratio is to some extent sexually dimorphic – men tend to have longer ring fingers, women more or less equal ring and index fingers – and is thought to be an indicator of one's level of exposure to testosterone in the womb. But variation is even wider across different ethnic groups. As digit ratio researcher Dr John Manning puts it, "There's more difference between a Pole and a Finn than a man and a woman."
Your risk of a heart attack Testosterone is believed to protect against heart attacks, and a 2001 study showed a lower risk of early heart attacks in men with the smallest index-to-ring finger ratios.
How rich you'll be Two years ago, Cambridge researchers found that City traders with longer ring fingers made more money than their short ring-fingered colleagues. They're also thought to be more aggressive, and more likely to take risks.
Whether or not you're a lesbian A California study looking at the fingers of 720 men and women from San Francisco showed that lesbian women tended to have the more masculine (long ring, short index) finger arrangement.
How bad a driver you are A 2005 German study (involving only 40 volunteers) showed that men scored higher on spatial skills (the "bad driving" part was a leap of imagination on the part of the media) but that women with longer ring fingers did better than those whose ring fingers were equal to, or shorter than, their index fingers.
After reading the news piece above, I was thinking.
Dang, i got a shorter ring finger.
But then again, there were never a local study on it, all were done by the Germans, British, Americans, mainly the orang putehs.
Anyway, all my fingers are short, but not stubby. That's the biggest reason why I found it difficult to take up piano or guitar beyond the basic key. Kinda frustrating initially, but just like everything in life, you either accept it or change it. Since it should be excruciatingly painful to change it, I accept it.
Lastly, talking about fingers, reminds me of something about fingers.
Do u know y God created gaps between fingers?
So that someone who is very special to you comes and fills these gaps by holding your hand forever.
Wifey, thanks for filling these gaps with your warm tender loving hand.
wifey wasn't too delighted that i had to stay overnight in a conference in Penang. on the other hand, i wasn't too happy that she didn't understand that all this was work.
i am not attending it. i was doing a major part in preparation for the final day of the conference. the highlight of the event would be the dialogue between the fraternity's elders and the top dog of the Ministry. expecting a probable late night, to go back home through the winding roads of Batu Ferringhi, not only will it consume an hour of travelling time, it is also pretty much suicidal, unless I have the skills of Takumi Fujiwara.
the final preparation and all the print works ended 2:30am. would have been 4am, if I haven't got the best team of competent people behind me.
then something a consultant said struck me.
He was mentioning about some fellow colleagues' disappointment when the prior banquet dinner was not going to include the family members.
"Well, if you look at it, why do you want to work? Why? To earn enough for your family, right?"
I thought of it for a while. He's right. Back to the basics.
Cavemen hunts to gather food for himself and the family.
Secretly, I wish to apologize to my dearest for my trailing thoughts of her not being understanding. I'm so sorry, dear.
I guess, somewhere, I need to strike a balance somewhere and seriously, learn the fine art of saying 'No'.
got this TOP TEN list from here. pretty interesting stuff.
I was going over them, wondering whether it was applicable to me and wifey.
We need to talk No so much of a dangerous phrase to me. I got that a lot, usually when she's bored and I am too busy doing some nonsensical stuff, like writing this piece of blog entry =)
Whatever Usually, this is my phrase. At times, pissed her off in a certain way. She demands clear answers, probably confirmation of me paying attention to her (which I do) but not particularly being particular bout all the options.
Is there anything new you want to try in bed tonight? Private & Confidential...
Nothing This was used very very frequently. Extremely dangerous. Practically a bullet-stopping phrase. But I am well-accustomed to this, so 'Nothing' always means everything to me.
The decision is yours This is a killer phrase. And I always keep my finger crossed if I decided to stay with my decision. If I am right, no prize for guessing it right. If it's the other way, I'll probably be verbally blown up into pieces.
You're right I should do that .. Never been used before.
Do you know what day is it today? Usually I do know. I religiously keep an annual alarm for important dates.
Listen to me. Are you listening Comes fast and furious. No serious repercussions ensue usually as once I pay attention, my reply will get her full appreciation. I will make sure it does.
What are you doing? Do you have to do this now? Now, this happen regularly, but I fully appreciate this phrase. At least I know our meteors are now in the path to collision. Definitely super safer than 'Nothing'
You're not wearing THAT, are you? I never get that from her. Hideous attire never do and never will make it into my closet.
Basically (don't you just hate people who start a sentence with this word) when I welcomed my daughter into this home, it was a much relief for my wife.
Simply because my daughter, Genevieve does not create a feeding nightmare like my elder son do. Trust me when I say nightmare, it is not just your run-off-the-mill normal kid's fussy-eating nightmare. My son can go without a feed even at the tender age of 2-3months. He didn't cry for food for 5hours plus. He pushed the away anything in the mouth with his tongue. We had to forcefeed him when he had his regular meetings with the Sandman.
If it was a repeat episode with my daughter, my wife would have shorten our future fertility plan. Luckily, it wasn't.
But now, my dearest (yes, i preferred to acknowledge my wife this-a-way) bugged me for another reason to be worry of. Yep, there's so much things to worry about. Perhaps one never ever will know that until one had a successful conception and delivery. And no, this is no bragging at all. Trust me.
Dearest: how ar?
Me: How what? (in a nice way)
D: how to answer when nurse in clinic ask whether she can 'balas senyuman' (smile responsively)?
M: If she can't, say she can't lor. (And that's the Penang's 'lor'. Soft and sweet 'lor')
D: Already near 2months, still not smile, she OK or not?
M: Still bit early lor. (Yep, the same kind of 'lor')
D: Don't want to see a doctor?
M: And you know what the doctor will tell you?
D: What?
M: Your daughter lack sense of humor.
D: (smile) haha..
M: Or if the doctor can do bit suturing, probably stitch up the angle of mouth.
D: Aiyaaa... (Yes, the Penang 'Aiya', worry with minute amount of panic)
M: Don't worry, dear. Maybe we can show her more comedy show.
D: (smile)
Basically (again), my daughter can grimace very well, response to sound and follow objects with eyes.
For a girl, I don't think attaining smiling responsivelyis that important.
More important for her to learn how to smile responsibly.
For those who were wondering what the eff happened to me based on my last picture of last post in my bid to win an iPhone4 from DiGi in a contest hosted by Nuffnang, yes, you can keep wondering.
I already jot down everything and saved them up as draft. Probably, I will release them later. Don't everyone finds Batman Begins and Smallville much more appealing, given the timing it was released was much more later than the main action flicks itself. Yes, probably that's a good way of masking my indecisiveness to tell the world how foolish I am.
Nuff said. In summary (don't everyone just love summary, except when it is included in public exams), 2 weeks back, I had Achilles tendon repair (ATR) by the finest and friendliest Foot surgeon, Mr. M.
During these 2 weeks, it wasn't an easy ride for me, being on Front slab and non-weightbearing (meaning the leg can't touch/kiss the floor).
It wasn't painful for me, I managed to keep the whole pack of Celecoxib chaste and virgin.
Toileting and bathing was nightmare. It was gymnastics to the range of animalistic.
I managed to realize that it pays to join in the daily game of One-Legged during recess time of my primary school. (I have yet to ascertain the benefit of another primary school game called Karitoi, for I didn't catch my wife that way).I was hopping away everywhere 99% of time with crutches mainly when I am outdoor, within the compound of my house.
I spent 3days packing up and moving back. My landlord had to renovate the house for his son's wedding, and without sympathy, shooed me out in a civilized manner with a tinge of hypocrisy. I packed lots of stuff in the sitting position, to the extend of scaling down the plastic cupboard and just fixed it back yesterday. Lots of jumping around. Luckily, my parents were around to help out and do some supervising the move.
Emotionally, some ups and downs along the days, especially when I failed to help out wifey in juggling between taking care of my newborn princess with URTIs and my rebellious prince who just can't seems to spread enough havoc and chaos, being completed pampered by his grandparents.
Not so much of a honeymoon and 'to kick back and relax' like one of my colleague was suggesting me to do.
Probably, some of my bad kammas ripening.
Today, I had my sutures removed. My wound was clean, except for a minute wound over the 3rd suture site, but did not looked troubled. My mission mainly for few days to come would have been to keep that minute wound clean, free from bacterias or superbacterias.
I was off front slab and into an Aircast, or what the achilles-repaired community would like to call it as 'boots'.
No, not this PCK boots..
Well, this is how the Aircast looks like. I was imagining myself looking partially like the Young Forrest Gump, but instead found myself partly looking like RoboCop, but with major excruciating pain over the ankle in the first few stretches.
My surgeon upgraded me from full plantar-flexion to complete neutral (or as neutral as possible). In his own words, "We want the 'L' " and with a stretch to the 'L', without any fentanyl patches supply by JY, or wood from Kelvin, I almost shouted the famous hokkien single syllable L word. But, I didn't.
He promoted me from NWB (non-weight bearing) to PWB (partial weight bearing), means my atrophic left leg can bear up to 20kg. How to know 20kg feels like? He taught. "First, put your leg on the weighing machine, and step till you see 20kg, then close your eyes and try to do it, while others tell you how much weight you had bear."
I used my own weiging at home - can't even go up to 10kg, already L L L already..
I went back to PWB first 2 steps then NWB.
This must be the 'first few days of painful stretch' he was taking about. I hope those few days are really short short few days.
I know this is awesome, but I don't think I want to take my chances. Anyway, those are different boots, people with different financial background and mostly different mindsets in appreciating a good walking leg.
At times, people couldn't really tell whether I'm joking or just plain serious.
Now retired. More of tired, i guess.
Tired of getting others irritated.
At times, people just couldn't take it and thus, distance away - which is not a bad thing, considering it is less stuffy, global warming and all.
Kedah is damn hot this few days. It's like a giant sauna, giant FREE sauna. Tempting? Not?
Keeps those without a good sense of humor away.
I always believe a healer should have a good sense of humor.
Dr. William Osler, the great physician couldn't have agreed more.
Last year, it was an easy task as I began my 1 month attachment in NICU. I managed to deceive (and probably shock) a few nurses or HOs that I was switching to the Paed squad.
Toned down this year because just too busy to play pranks on anyone, except for my dearest who chose to have her modified glucose test done on that day.
I fooled her into believing that she tested positive with a pretty high reading even on fasting itself.
She was actually looking forward in a semi-depressive state to be the giant pin-cushion for regular blood sugar profile.
I wasn't at the end of any pranks, except perhaps for an incidental one, thanks to Dr. K.
He was afraid that I was furious when I told him 'Thanks for the April Fool joke".
He doesn't know me well enough.
Going through the net, I found lots of interesting pranks, absolutely creative and funny.
I found one which is O&G-related, that probably should have brought it up with Dr. Irza, who kept egging me to get myself an I-phone which I doubt I will be needing anytime soon.
It is known as I-Peed (aptly named) for home pregnancy test of I-phone application.
Pink or Blue? One Line or Two? Cup or stream? What woman hasn’t spent countless hours sweating it out over an innocuous white plastic stick otherwise known as a home pregnancy test (whether trying to conceive or not). Not to mention the small fortune spent on multiple drug store trips to buy more tests (just in case the first one was wrong). Even the cheap dollar store tests add up pretty quickly after a few months of trying to conceive.
With the recent launch of iPeed, those high costs and frequent pharmacy trips are a thing of the past, as the new home pregnancy test iphone application offers 99% accuracy 2 days before your first missed period. Created by a pharmacist mom and her computer developer husband, the iPeed is hoping to revolutionize the $50 million-dollar-a-year home pregnancy test market. And at $2.99 a download for unlimited use, it may do just that
After downloading the application, you simply aim your urine stream at the bullseye in the center of the screen. A complex algorithm analyzes the level of HCG (pregnancy hormone) in your urine. Sensitivity is > 12.5 mIU/mL, comparable to most tests available at the supermarket. If the test is positive, an image of a cooing baby appears (above, right). If the test is negative, an image of a martini appears.
If things go as planned, your future pharmacy trips may be limited to diapers and formula. Or vodka.
Day 3 of the Chinese New Year – the Year of the Tiger.
A ferocious year as described by the Chinese astrology expert, which certainly make most Chinese or those who chose to believe it to think twice before diving in on dangerous sports or activities.
I was told of this hypothesis about vulnerability of those who were born under the year of Monkey, as evident by my cousin sister’s femur fracture as the target board victim from a speeding buffoon on a bike and my 2nd uncle’s ulnar fracture from a freaky slippery floor accident while he was on a bike.
Anyway, our southern neighbor Singapore was more than thrill to open the wide door of their formal gambling den in the spirit of the Tiger to prey on its visitor. Ironically, their government runs a vigorous campaign to fight compulsive gambling, yet they decided to open a casino with an open excuse of not wanting to trail behind in revenue in this aspect. Perhaps they just wanted a slice of cake from our Genting fatcake.
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps not.
A night before, my mother-in-law stayed up whole night, rallying between her bed and the toilet sink. She was having epigastric discomfort which elevated to pain with accompanying sweating and possibly sympathetic symptoms followed by repeated vomiting. Initially she emptied her delightful chicken dinner and followed by yellowish gastric juices. She was under the radar for the whole night until in the morning when I found her rather weak and held her fist close to her upper abdomen. She had a long previous history of gastritis but was not committed enough for the gastro scope yet.
My dearest’s aunt who came back from Australia suggested a consultation from the 1Malaysia clinic nearby which she was taken aback when I told her the person in white w
ho had put a stet over her chest few days ago before she was given some medication for her cold and cough was neither a licensed doctor nor a trainee doctor, but a medical assistant.
Since I was around and the 1fMalaysia clinic was just few blocks away, I decided to bring my mother-in-law (MIL) in her 60s there, mainly to get a good medication for her highly likely gastritis attack and to rule out other possibly lethal condition, such as the most common heart attack and pancreatitis.
The clinic was very impressive. Bling bling. Full
y air-conditioned, glass front and all new furni
ture with a PPK or female attendant seated there.
The PPK popped the question to my MIL
.
“Ade ape makcik?” (What do you have, auntie?)
“Sakit perut.Gastric” (Stomachache. Gastric)
I kept quiet, resisting the urge to play the role of the patronizing son-in-law.
She got the number ‘2’.
Waited for 5minutes and we’re up.
There were only 2 more patients after us.
No wonder the short queue was thrilling most of the people who wrote in to local press to jack this 1fmalaysia clinic.
The short waiting minutes did not deprive my roving eyes. I noted the organization chart with names of few doctors who are nominally in charge of this clinic but physically not in the clinic.
I accompanied my MIL into the consultation room. The g
uy MA was seated comfortably there behind the posh desk with the laptop screen over his left showing of football formation with the title ‘Crystal Palace Formation Tactic’.
Another nurse was seated opposite him in another desk busy with some paperworks of her own, appeared working independently from one another.
As soon as my MIL seated down after a slow stride to chair, the MA posed the question in haste while his hands were busy scribbling on to the medical note.
“Auntie macam mana?”
“Sakit perut.”
”Auntie, tahun baru, makan banyak?”
“Tak.”
He immediately cut to the chase, put the stethoscope on my MIL’s right and left iliac fossa.
“Auntie, angin… banyak angin.”
“Sakit di sini.” My MIL was pointing to epigastic area. The MA couldn’t care less, wasn’t even looking, scribbling down name of medications.
original medical note of 1fmalaysia clinic
“Auntie, angin.”
“Ini menantu saya, loktor.”
The MA suddenly sat right up and appeared more attentive.
“Oh doktor dari mana?”
“Saya dari xx. Sini boleh buat ECG? Ada ranitidine?”
“Tak, sini klinik kecil saje. Kita hanya rawat symptomatic je.”
He turned to the big cabinet behind him with multiple compartments with multiple over the counter medication, and passed to me some Gelusil (antacid) pills.
“OK, tak pe. Thank you.”
By that piece of ‘thank you’, I thanked 1fmalaysia clinic for giving me a valuable lesson in realizing my stupidity in wasting time with such a fraud medical set up.
I travelled further down 2 kms to the emergency department of a district hospital which is bustling with people and was clearly understaffed. I sympathized with the nurses there who worked continuously like lab rats, but they kind enough to spare few minutes to do an ECG for my MIL. As for the rest, I clerked, set branula, prescribed, got the medication from the pharmacy and took blood to rule out pancreatitis. Improvement was evident a few minutes after I pushed some good old Ranitidine into my MIL’s vein, and she was all bright and shiny on regular Ranitidine tabs. As for my future plan, I would need to seek out any acquaintances of mine down south for an appointment in Surgical Outpatient in JB.
Now I would like to make several notably point about 1fmalaysia clinic.
Firstly, without a doubt, the clinic had given false reassurance and by all and any standard, is more of a killer than a healer.
The MA was there as a leader of the medical team, yet he was in a rush to get back to his ‘CrystalPalace’ team. He didn’t even care to ask some other questions, just to rule out heart attack which could present with epigastric pain. Of course, he could have argued my MIL recovered in the best case scenario, but who knows, how many had silently passed away at home and took the fast lane to mortuary.
No one can blame him, actually. Someone put him there, in spite of his inability to screen for warning signs, and unfortunately, his confident diagnosis of ‘angin’ gave a false reassurance which may lethally delayed proper treatment.
Traditionally, we're taught never to see the patient as a disease or a system of collection of various organs, but see the patient as a whole, the way of holistic medicine. But 1fmalaysia clinic serves efficiently as the health center for 'symptomatic' treatment, now the advance healthcare in Malaysia is moving 'forward' from seeing patient as a whole to seeing just symptoms.
My MIL asked me a question that I couldn’t answer. “Why was he putting his stethoscope at my lower abs when my pain is in the epigastric?”
I sighed in silent.
If my MIL wasn’t in her sixties, I would be calling it a sexual molestation.
And this would go on and on and on and on, till someone would come in for a check and balance for this idiocy.
Secondly, this is clearly public fund embezzlement. When all this real money can be used to upgrade the nearby district clinic, it was instead being used to pay for this air-conditioned joint serving a mediocre function.
Instead of lightening the workload of the hospy nearby, deployment of these 3 medical personnel in this 1fmalaysia clinic is a poor wastage of human resource.
The only benefit is serve the public is you just need to pay RM 1 for the RM20 over-the-counter medications for minor ailments.
Nevertheless, I would like to end with a positive note.
All the accumulations and collections of medical misappropriation along with all the future cropped-up sodomy allegations will definitely be gold mines for my fellow friends practicing the art of Law.
Note to self: Prime Aedan to be a lawyer when he grows up.
P.S. please don't make any speculation as what the f between the 1 and malaysia stands for.
Well, this is how the Aircast looks like. I was imagining myself looking partially like the Young Forrest Gump, but instead found myself partly looking like RoboCop, but with major excruciating pain over the ankle in the first few stretches.
Well, this is how the Aircast looks like. I was imagining myself looking partially like the Young Forrest Gump, but instead found myself partly looking like RoboCop, but with major excruciating pain over the ankle in the first few stretches.
back to square one
seize the day... 
i define myself
tis one permanent head damage
OMG.. another lame excuse..
seriously irritating person
ten ten ten.. tententen... 
chics on big engine
sixth sense
plastic surgeon... 
psychiatrist?!?
not so demanding... going with the flow
