John's Universe

More Melody

2008-08-24T17:54:00.008+08:00

Here are two pictures of Melody. For no special reason other than they've been sitting on my thumb drive for a while.

Uncyclopedia Article

2008-08-24T17:21:00.002+08:00

I liked this Uncyclopedia Article. It is simple, and I found it funny. No more needs to be said.

Health Concerns

2008-07-05T20:24:00.003+08:00

OK, I don't have dengue or tuberculosis. I had a fever for a week. If I had dengue, my platelet count would have been below 150,000 when the fever broke. When it did, it was 152,000, and still dropping.
So the doctor here said "Look, you don't have dengue, it's just a virus!"
WHOOOOOOPEEE! I still felt like crap. It sure felt like I had dengue. It took me at least a week or more afterwards to recover.

They took a chest x-ray, because I wasn't getting as much air from one lung as another. There was an abnormality in the upper portion of the x-ray, which seemed to indicate possible tuberculosis. So they took another one, and said the abnormalities were "artifactual". Which must mean that someone sneezed on the original x-ray, or they forgot to clean the lense.

I wish I could have been in Taiping, so that I could have Dr. Philip check me out. He's a first rate doctor. He would know exactly what was happening. Instead, I get the doctor at he hospital clinic who sees untold numbers of patients a day.

Well, at least I am still alive, and feeling better!

What Can You Say at a Time Like This?

2008-06-16T19:50:00.006+08:00

There are times when you just don't know what to say. I'm talking about when a tragedy happens to a friend, and you know that there's nothing you can say that is going to make things any better. If you do say anything, you could make things much worse than saying nothing at all. But then you know you should say something, just because the person is a friend, and you want them to know that you care. So do you say something, and potentially ruin what may be a temporary peace in an emotional crucible, or stay quiet and have that person think that you don't care?

Here's the situation:

Trien wants me to write an e-mail to Jhuday (pronounced jew-die) the woman who introduced us.

The back story: Somehow, by the grace of God, I was able to get a teaching job in the Philippines, in Cebu. What I was doing was helping to get an English school catering to Koreans and Japanese started. Part of my duties included interviewing and hiring qualified teachers. Most of the applicants were young attractive females just out of college. One of them was Jhuday, who was a pretty, intelligent, bubbly, but somewhat flighty young woman of 22. I liked her, and was attracted to her, and it turned out the feeling was mutual. It seemed like there was the possibility of something more than a professional relationship. After a few weeks, I knew she still liked me, but was purposely pulling away from me.

Later I found out why. She had a crush on me, but figured I was too old for her. (I was 43 at the time). It was something I was thinking myself. You have to figure if both parties think the same thing, then it must be true.

She had a friend, a classmate in college, who was older than her. Jhuday had been able to finish her schooling. The friend, who was working fulltime, didn't have the money to continue. Jhuday had been talking to her friend about me, but her friend thought she was talking about someone else, another classmate of theirs.

Meanwhile, Jhuday talked highly of her classmate. Her friend was cute, intelligent, a good woman, and older. Then she seemed to have an epiphany, one of those moments when something so obvious occurs to you that you look like you've been slapped in the face with a brick:

"Why don't I give you her cellphone number, and you two can become text mates? You two would be perfect together!"

OK, OK, I had heard similar things before. I wasn't too excited about getting her friends number. I didn't go running around the room in joy and start making wedding plans. I didn't even bother contacting her friend until Jhuday asked me a few days later if I was going to text her friend. So I sent a text, not expecting much to come of it. Let it be said that the main reason I wasn't so hot on doing this was that I am without a doubt the worlds slowest texter. So we texted, and a lot of times her friend would fall asleep waiting for me to answer her text.

Eventually, though, my textmate and I met. How that came about, and what happened, is another story. Then we dated. Then we fell in Love. Then we decided to get married, had a baby . . .

As for Jhuday, it seems that she ended up finding a textmate of her own a year or so later, a friend of a friend up in Manila. Someone who had an epiphany, who thought they would be "perfect together". Eventually her and her textmate met, fell in love- and things went the way they were supposed to. They got married.

Jhuday got a job teaching on Santa Rosa, a little Island across from Mactan, which is made up mostly of nature preserve. Conditions there are primitive at best, a real hardship post, with no electricity at night, no internet connection, no telephones, etc.

We didn't know this. All we knew was that she seemed to have disappeared. Trien kept texting her and writing her e-mails, but didn't get any answer, so we were concerned. It seemed like she disappeared after she got married. Of course, my overactive imagination got the best of me, but I never said anything to my wife.

Finally Jhuday got back to civilization, checked her e-mail, and we got the good news. She was pregnant. Not only pregnant, but she was carrying twins!

Of course, we were happy for her. Especially since we had been hoping for twins ourselves.

Then she went back to Santa Rosa, and we didn't hear anything from her.

The due date was some time around the end of May, so Trien sent out another e-mail, to see how everything was going, and if she had the babies yet.

The answer tore at our hearts, considering what we had been through ourselves with our first two pregnancies. Even now, I am starting to get teary eyed when I think of her answer.

The babies died before she delivered them. They passed away sometime during the 35th week. There was something called "intertwin discordancy." She felt no movement in her womb, went in for an ultrasound, and the doctor told her they were both dead. Six days later they induced labor, and she had to see her two little lifeless hopes and dreams being taken away gray and lifeless.

Unless you've gone through something similar yourself, like we did, you can have no idea what that feels like. Trien and I have been through something a bit similar, and I still can't imagine how much worse it must be for Jhuday.

At least with us, it happened at the end of the first trimester the first time. The second time, we were advised to terminate the pregnancy about six to eight weeks into it. Still, it was hard. You'd think that you were OK with it, that emotionally everything was fine, then suddenly you'd find yourself sitting there crying for no reason.

People would say things to try to make you feel better, but sometimes you just wanted them to shut up and leave you alone. You would be nice and everything, but still, it would have been better to say nothing at all. The thing is, you know they meant no harm, just wanted to help, and you knew that if you were them, you'd be doing and saying the same things.

Trien and I have talked things over. We decided the best thing to do is not to mention anything about the tragedy. She has sent Jhuday an e-mail letting her know we are back in Cebu, and hoping that maybe we can get together, and hoping all is well.

What else can you do?

I'm Baaaaaaaack!

2008-06-11T20:32:00.006+08:00

I went on hiatus from writing this Blog for a while, but I am back. The strange thing that happened was that after I took a sabbatical from posting, I actually got a lot more hits on it than I did when I was actually posting 20+ times a month. I'm still scratching my head as to why. Hopefully, those of you who are stopping by to check out my most popular posts:

"When Was Jesus Born"
"How to Make a High Contrast Baby Mobile"
"Melody Proves That Dunstan Baby Language Doesn't Work"
and
"My Wife's Big Boobies"

Will look around and see more that you like, and return to see the latest ramblings and rantings of maybe not a beautiful mind, but a decent looking one.

(This is Melody in a dress celebrating her
Chinese heritage. We are at the local pho bo stand
in Ho Chi Minh City. She is blowing raspberries at Daddy.)

Cheers!

John

Duane Allman's Gravestone Quote

2008-06-10T22:05:00.002+08:00

Sometimes inspiration comes in the most unusual ways and from the most unlikely of places. We went to SM City in Cebu.

The wife was looking after Melody, who was busy smiling at everybody before taking a quick nap. So I wandered into the Power Bookstore. There in the half price section was a book on rock stars grave sites. As I was flipping through it, I came across the final resting place of my favorite guitar god, Duane Allman. On his gravestone is the following quote, which came from something he wrote:

"I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can. I will take love wherever I find it and offer it to everyone who will take it. . . seek knowledge from those wiser and teach those who wish to learn from me."

I thought that was a pretty cool philosophy, and garbled it pretty badly when I tried to share it with Trien on the v-hire ride back to Lapu-Lapu City. She liked the garbled version, but I knew that the real quote was much better. So I had to run off to the Internet cafe, look it up, and share it with the rest of the world.

The George Bush Episode of the Teletubbies

2007-09-18T18:09:00.000+08:00

No, don't worry, we're never ever going to let Melody watch a single episode of the Teletubbies, because it will lead to serious mental impairment, and possible charges of abuse, later on in her life.

Speaking of having a serious mental impairment, I came across this George W. Bush episode of the Teletubbies. It has recently been confirmed that George W. gets all his daily briefings from the Teletubbies. Tinky Winky tells him about foreign policy, Po domestic policy, Dipsy energy, and Laa-Laa writes his speeches. That way, George is informed by people who are at the same intellectual level as him, and who he can relate to. Here is the evidence.

What did I tell you? The proof is there!

Local Hero

2007-09-17T08:53:00.000+08:00

I came home from work one stifling hot afternoon. Despite being four degrees above the equator, Taiping is relatively mild compared to other places around here, because we get a lot of rain, usually have a nice breeze blowing, and are the foot of the mountains. This day, though, was especially hot, with none of the normal comforts of the local climate.

I was changing out of my clothes so that I could hop in the bathroom, pour water from the basin over myself, and take a "shower". All the windows slats were open to let in the breeze. Out of the window I saw the old Chinese Auntie from the ground floor sitting down in her garden.

We call her Auntie, one, to be polite, and two, because we have no idea what her real name is, because she doesn't speak any English or Malay. Nevertheless, she always waves hello at us, and once Trien's pregnancy started showing, Auntie would try her best to talk to her. She is old, with skin wrinkled like a crumpled paper bag, and dotted with age spots. She has a mole with huge hairs sprouting from it one at corner of her mouth, and kind, laughing blue eyes. Despite having great difficulty walking, she does her best to toddle around, and go to the store by herself.

She likes to tend her garden, which is around her apartment. There are some banana trees, and some various other tropical fruit trees. Sometimes Auntie walks around with a long pole trying to chase the monkeys away from her fruit trees. Other times, she gets one of her visitors, probably a son or grandson, to throw firecrackers at them. Still, they always come back. Also in her garden are some vegetables or herbs with long thin pointy leaves. Even Trien doesn't know what they are.

It was among these unknown plants that I saw her sitting when I glanced out the window. At first I thought she was just taking it easy. She is old, and it was very hot. Then I saw her laying back, and struggling. That's when I realized that she had fallen, or fainted, and couldn't get up. So I put my clothes back on.

"Baby, Auntie is in the garden and can't get up. I'm going downstairs to help her."

"Honey, What happened?"

"I don't know. She needs help."

I went downstairs, and Trien locked up and followed me to the garden.

It was even hotter down in Aunties garden than it was elsewhere. The plants seemed to intensify the heat and humidity. When I reached her, she was drenched in sweat.

She was trying to pull herself up by grabbing onto the thick roots of the plants, but didn't have the strength, and kept falling back. She laughed and smiled, and was saying something to me, but of course I couldn't understand her. I tried to help her up, but she had trouble finding her footing and kept slipping back.

I wasn't quite sure if she wanted to be helped up, if she just wanted to sit up to weed her garden, or if she really needed help. This was because as I tried to help her up, she still seemed to be trying to do some weeding, or to pick some plants. I told Trien that we needed someone to talk to her, so we could communicate, and find out what was really going on.

Trien kept an eye on her, while I walked around to the front of our building to see if any of the Chinese people were about to help out. That was not the case, so I decided to walk toward the Lake Gardens to see if there was anyone there.

Before I could get too far, a new compact car pulled up through the back gate of the apartment block across from ours, which is usually closed during week days. Out came a young lady. She seemed to be a student. She was young, just a bit chubby, but attractive.

I yelled across the fence at her to get her attention. She either didn't hear me, or pay any attention. So I shouted LOUDER.

"Excuse me!"

She turned around, right at the entrance to the building.

"Do you speak English?"

It was easy to see that she was wondering what this white guy was doing in the parking lot yelling at her. Of course, if I were her, I'd be wondering the same thing.

"The old lady across the way has fallen down, and can't get up. She doesn't speak any English. Could you come interpret so we know what she wants and what is wrong?"

"What old lady? I didn't know there was an old lady who lived there?"

"On the bottom floor. She is in the garden around the side with my wife."

She came trotting around the fence, and I pointed to where Trien was standing with Auntie. You could just barely see Auntie's head over the plants.

She ran right over to Auntie, bent over, and stated talking to her in Chinese, most likely Hokkien, which is the usual dialect around here. Auntie answered her, and was laughing again, but now it seemed that she was slightly embarrassed. The girl grabbed one arm, I grabbed the other, and we lifted Auntie to her feet. Auntie kept trying to pick some of the plants, and even offered us some, but we didn't know what to o with them. Her second concern was her hoe, which Trien picked up and carried for her. The girl and I helped her along, and when Auntie seemed to be steady, I let the girl carry Auntie to the porch in front of her sliding glass door, where she sat down.

After she sat down, Auntie touched her hands together and bowed to me, and said the only English words she knew, over and over:

"Thank you".

I nodded my head, and said you're welcome. I asked the girl if Auntie was OK, and she said she was OK, she suddenly felt weak and fell. I told the girl that it was too hot for Auntie to be working now, she should be inside resting. Auntie kept saying thank you for a couple more minutes. After we were sure she was OK, Trien and I went back inside.

After that, every time I went downstairs, Auntie would always smile. Sometimes she would get up and come to the door to say thank you.

Then one day Trien and I were walking back from town. Trien was already nine months pregnant, and looked it. There was an old Chinese woman bicycling back from town, maybe in her early to mid seventies. She could speak English fairly well, and she started talking to us, and asking us questions. Like how much we pay for our apartment, where are we from, when is the baby due, the standard stuff. Then she asked about what happened with Auntie, and I told her.

Then she told us about Auntie. Her children and grandchildren come around, but really don't pay her much mind. They come in and out all the time, but basically she is all alone. The church van picks her up on Sunday to go to the Chinese Methodist Church downtown, but other than that, nobody takes her out, so she slowly makes her way to the store.

The lady said Auntie was working in her garden, when she felt very weak and fell down. She didn't know what to do, because she was too weak to cry out, and there wasn't likely to be anyone around to see her and help her. That is, until I looked out the window.

When Auntie saw the three of us, she came out and we were able to communicate. Auntie was happy to be able to tell me how thankful she was that I helped her. Then the other lady started talking to some other people, telling them what happened.

The result? I have become known as the nice western guy who helped Auntie out, sort of like a local hero.

As a postscript to this episode:

Auntie found out from her friend that Trien was in the hospital waiting to deliver. Every day when I came home, she would be waiting to see if we were bringing Melody home. It took a week, but when we finally got out of the car with Melody that Thursday afternoon, Auntie came out with a big smile and was overjoyed to see the baby. She had to pinch her cheeks and made many comments in Chinese we couldn't understand. And , of course, she kept trying to talk to Trien. Auntie was so happy just to see the baby and to hold her for a second. You would have thought that she was the grandmother.

Now, She always looks to see if Trien or I are bringing the baby out. When she sees little Melody, her face brightens, and you can see the traces of young motherhood and its memories flicker across her face.

It doesn't take much to touch someone, and make a difference in their life.

Another Thing We've Learned

2007-09-16T21:11:00.000+08:00

One thing we've learned is that Melody doesn't like taking a bath. You would think that after all that time floating around in the womb, she'd love it. Not a chance.

That's Aida, our helper, giving her her first bath at home. I never knew Melody could cry so loud, or turn so red!

Well, we'll have to adjust, and maybe see if we can make it into a game. Or maybe if we put her into a tub of warm water, now that her umbilical cord has healed, instead of pouring the water over her, she will calm down.

It's just another learning process and adjustment that we're all going to have to go through!

Training Each Other

2007-09-16T17:52:00.000+08:00

Sure, we read "What to Expect the First Year", to get some idea of how of what we were facing raising a newborn. That book has become our "Baby Bible". It's packed with all sorts of useful information. Trien and I both read it, and we both agree we got a lot out of it. It's an excellent book to have if you are a first time parent. It's also the only book on parenting we could find in Taiping.

Sure, we asked others for advice, on how to prepare for Melody's arrival.

It seems like you can prepare all you want to have a baby, but it sure is a different thing when the baby actually arrives and you have to do it. Some things turn out better, and some things turn out worse.

For example, before Melody was born, the thought of actually changing a diaper was nearly enough to send me into convulsions. That's the OCD working. After she was born and I actually did it? No problem. It just seemed so natural to do it. I found out I actually enjoy changing her diaper, and making goofy faces and noises at her while I do it. It confuses the hell out of her, and keeps her quiet and still while I clean and change her. Besides, the mustardy yellow breastfeeding poop doesn't smell like some sort of biological warfare attack. I can't say the same for those kids on formula. Anyway, when it's your child who is dirty and smelly, you don't mind. If it was someone else's kid, I'd run away screaming in horror, and have to rub hand sanitizer all over my body.

It's a different thing reading about taking care of a baby, and having people give you advice, and actually doing it.

At first, we struggled. Every time she cried, we thought she was hungry. Usually, we weren't wrong. This kid can really eat. If she is hungry, she will show she is hungry by loudly sucking on her fist or the back of her hand.

At first, she would feed for two or three hours plus straight. She is a rester, and she would take little breaks during her feeding time, but still! She would empty out both breasts, and we would have to give her a formula supplement on top of it to satisfy her hunger. Mommy's nipples were getting awfully sore.

Then a few nights ago, she fed for seven hours straight. She didn't go to sleep, she just kept crying and feeding for all that time. She would feed, spit it up, we'd burp her, she'd cry for more, fill her diaper, we'd change her, she'd cry again, we'd feed her, she'd spit it up, cry for more, we'd feed her, burp her, and on and on. We didn't know what the hell was happening. I was ready to have tests done to see if she had an extra stomach. Finally, about 1 am, she fell asleep, and slept for about 8 hours.

The next day she was OK. What I figured was, that she had gas, and tummy pain. Since she is as new to all of this as we are, I think she couldn't tell the difference between gas, tummy pain, and being hungry. So she would feed, get gas, then cry for more, spit it up, we'd burp her, that would make more space, so she'd want more, we'd give it, the gas would come back, she'd be full and get tummy pain, fill her diaper, that would make more space, etc. in a never ending cycle.

It seems that after that, Melody learned the difference between hunger, gas, tummy pain, and being full. We haven't had the same problem since, and hopefully won't again. That's because we are also learning. We are learning what her feeding patterns are.

She will wake up, and be hungry. To make her comfortable during feeding time, first we check her diaper, and if need be, change her. Then Mommy feeds her. After anywhere from 10 minutes to half an hour, she either doze off, go to sleep, or want to look at stuff. If she dozes off, after a few minutes she'll be awake and want more. If she wants to look at stuff, then she will want to be held, and look at stuff around the room, or at a toy, for an indeterminate time. Then she'll want to be fed again. If she sleeps, then she will sleep for 2 to 3 hours before she wakes up again.

After the second feeding, if she hasn't had her "Lets look at stuff time", she will want to have it then. If she's had her "Lets look at stuff time", then she will doze for a few minutes. After she has done either, she will want a little snack, then she will fall asleep for a couple hours.

Knowing what her habits are make it easier to take care of her.

We've also realized that every time she cries, she doesn't necessarily want a nipple in her mouth. So we hold off on that until we are sure that's what she wants. If she gives her hunger sign, then that's what she gets. If not, we go through the checklist: diaper, hold me, burp me, get me out of the crib, lets look at stuff. If that doesn't work, then it's feeding time.

So you could say both Melody and Trien and I are adjusting to each other, and learning from each other. We are training each other. It looks like this won't end until, say, she grows up and moves away from home. Until then, we'll just keep learning and adjusting!

Rod Benson's Blog

2007-09-14T13:26:00.001+08:00

Rod Benson is a Basketball player trying out for the New Jersey Nets. He is also a very smart and funny guy, who writes a fantastic Blog.

I don't know if he has a future in the NBA, but if that doesn't work out, I'm sure writing will. The guy definitely has talent. His entry about playing baseball with an ex NBA players young kids had me cracking up. If writing doesn't work out, then he's bound to find some niche in entertainment. He's that good.
It doesn't matter if you like basketball, or even if you know anything about it at all. You will still get a kick out of Rod Benson.

The only reason I don't have it on my list of favorite Blogs is because the filters on the servers here won't let me add it. Next time at the Internet cafe, it goes there.

So check out toomuchrodbenson.com

It's worth the trip!

Melody Proves that Dunstan Baby Language Doesn't Work

2007-09-12T15:14:00.001+08:00

Trien and I were watching Oprah one night on Astro when she was about seven months pregnant. In the first segment Priscilla Dunstan (below)

came on, to talk about her Dunstan Baby Language cd. Ms. Dunstan is one hot looking mommy, which immediately caught my attention. She claims that after years of research, she was able to identify five "words" that all babies use, despite whatever language they are exposed to, to communicate their needs.

According to her website:

Every newborn communicates from birth to 3 months using 5 distinct sounds, or “words” to express their physical needs. This is regardless of the language their parents speak and is part of nature’s plan – that your baby can tell you what they need from the very beginning. For example, every baby will say the word “neh” when hungry. The sooner ‘hunger’ is identified the sooner a parent can respond by feeding.

Of course this immediately caught our attention, and we sat fascinated through the program. Trien even got a piece of paper and a pencil, and quickly wrote down the "words" and what they meant, for future reference.

With Ms. Dunstan were some mommies holding their babies. They said how great it was that they could understand what their babies were trying to communicate to them before they got all apoplectic. Some of the babies even made some of the cries, almost on cue. The mommies were able to tell what they wanted, and met the need on camera before their precious one even started to cry.

During the segment there were other demos of how well it worked. Oprah was surprised and enthusiastic. It was almost as if she was the presenter for a "Dunstan Baby Language" Infomercial. If I didn't trust in Oprah's integrity, (and great wealth), I'd say that was exactly what was happening. Oprah likes it. My brother's then 18 month old daughter loves Oprah. Wow! So great! Sign me up!

After the program, I had to do some research. Of course, the Dunstan Baby Language website is impressive and has all sorts of testimonials and great things to say about their program, but that is to be expected. Then I started looking around, to see what everybody else had to say. It seemed like they were all equally enthusiastic.

All, that is, except for the article on wikipedia, which questions her research and methodology. Other than that, every other thing I read was almost universally gushing with praise for her discovery.

Of course, if this was going to be such a tremendous help to us as parents, I wanted to get it so that we could understand our baby's "eh", "heh", etc.

One problem? The cost. When I first checked, it was $70 US for the package. Now it's $50 US. While that may seem reasonable for you in the USA or UK, I'm on a Malaysian salary here.

Another? You can't get them to ship it to Malaysia.

So I asked my brother and sister to see if they knew someone who already had it, and was finished with it. Then they could ship it out me. No luck there. I imagined that either none of their acquaintances had it, or if they did, they refused to part with such a gift from the heavens.

So instead, confident in my new found font of information, I cut and pasted the "words" and their meanings, and printed them out. I had them in my pocket the first time I went to the hospital to see Melody.

You know what? I shouldn't have even bothered. Melody obviously didn't get the memo that she is supposed to use Ms. Dunstan's "words" to communicate her needs. She uses one word for everything- "Eh". Ok, make that two words- "Eh", and a loud screaming cry. Nothing else comes out of her mouth except that. "Eh" can mean all the usual things: most often, "I am hungry", but also, "I have gas", "I am wet/poopy", "I like looking at Mr. Bear", "I am hungry", or "I just like confusing Mommy and Daddy as to what it is I really want." Crying? Well there is no need to tell you what that means.

We can tell better what Melody wants from her body language, than we can from any "Dunstan Baby Language". Sucking on her hand or fist means she is hungry, a smelly diaper means she needs to be changed, and a pained expression on her face means either she needs to be changed, "watch out, I'm about to fill my diaper", or "why aren't you burping me?"

So as for Ms. Dunstan's discovery, I'm afraid it would have been of no use to us, even if we could get it. We just have to do things the old fashioned way- watch, listen, and smell. Better yet, we didn't waste $50, and can use that money for something really useful. Like diapers and baby wipes!

Melody's Favorite Activities

2007-09-11T15:57:00.001+08:00

Being a newborn, Melody doesn't do too much as of yet. But there are a few things she likes to do. In rough order of preference, they are:
1. Sleeping. Without a doubt, that is #1 on the list.
2. Eating. This is her #1 activity when awake.
3. Looking at stuff. Everything is new to her. So when she is taking a break from feeding, but still alert, she likes to look at everything around her. Some of the things she has found fascinating include:
One of the wooden posts on her crib.
Our plain white wall.
The underside of the futon.
The ceiling fan.
Mommy (Daddy not so much).
Some bug only an expert in tropical entomology could identify scurrying around the plain white wall that had Mommy freaking out.

The patterns on your clothes.

But without a doubt, her two favorite things are:
Mr. Bear, (pictured above), and her own image in the mirror.

I paid RM 20 for Mr. Bear, and it is some of the best money I ever spent. She is totally fascinated by him. All you have to do is put him in her line of sight, and she will stare at him, and start kicking and smiling. He has a music box inside, and when you pull the string and "Go to Sleep My Little Baby" starts playing, she will stop moving and kicking, and give him her full attention. Then she will start moving and kicking even more, waiting for him to make some more music. Whatever Mr. Bear does, she usually tries to reach out and touch him, as best a newborn can.

Her own image is of tremendous interest to her. She loves to look at the baby in the mirror. She will try and reach out and touch the baby. Of course, right now she doesn't know she is the baby in the mirror. But she always stops what she is doing when I put the mirror in her line of sight, and usually smiles at the baby. She won't even move or kick, she is so fascinated. This really comes in handy when changing her diaper. I put the mirror in front of her, she holds still, and in two minutes or less the diaper change is done.
4. Being held.

5. Crying.

6. Resting while taking two hours to feed.

7. Being adorable. This takes no effort all all, it just comes naturally.

I know this is just the beginning. In the coming months, as she matures and makes new discoveries, there will be plenty more things she like to do. I can't wait to see what they are!

The Birth

2007-09-05T19:31:00.000+08:00

It wasn't easy for either of us. Physically, it was demanding on Trien. She was in labor over twenty hours. Mentally and emotionally, and thus physically, it was demanding on me.

It was hard being separated from her during the whole process. While she was in the 3rd class ward, after being induced, I could stay with her and hold her hand, and possibly stroke her head. That stopped after she knocked my hand away. After visiting hours were over, I had to leave, with no way to find out what was happening. That is, unless Saras called me up with information. Saras goes to our church, and is a nurse in the maternity ward. She was keeping vigil with Trien, and acting as her personal nurse. She did internal exams, massages, and at times, prayed. All of which helped tremendously. If it wasn't for Saras, Trien would have definitely had a c-section, something we all wanted to avoid.

I was wiped out. Visiting hours were over at 7:30, and I was having trouble trying to do anything. It was raining out, and Ramesh's wife and I were waiting for him to return and take us home. Because of the rain, he didn't show up until 9.

At first when we were talking, I was feeling sick and grumpy, and wanted to tell her to shut up. I controlled myself though, and as things went on, I really enjoyed our conversation, and felt a lot better. Still, I was so tired. Ramesh came, and I picked up some pau for dinner, and some ice cream for comfort food. I had just taken a shower, and started to eat, when Ramesh called, oh, about 9:30, and said that they had just wheeled Trien into the delivery room, and they were coming back to pick me up.

I barely had time to put my clothes on before they were downstairs waiting for me.

News travels fast. When we got there, Pastor Phillip was already there. That's him in front, with the glasses. Also there was sister Grace and her husband, whose name escapes me, but he is pastor of the church in Bagan Serai. They are the couple on the right of the picture. Ramesh then left to pick up Kevin Singh from worship practice. That's Kevin on the left. I like Kevin. Him and his wife Rebecca are really cool people. (Plus they have really cute kids!) As for the mystery couple in red, between Kevin and Grace and her husband, that's Ramesh and his wife. Ramesh is another guy you got to love. He's got a great sense of humor, and is always willing to lend a helping hand. He does drive his wife crazy, but they love each other to death. He had to walk away when Trien was in the labor room, in so much pain she couldn't talk, because he couldn't stand to see anyone suffer like that. That may be because he knows what it is like to suffer himself. He suffers from an intermittently recurring infection in the lining behind his eyes that causes him excruciating pain.

I know I am forgetting some people, because I was so tired. I am under the impression that there were more people than that waiting, but I didn't get their pictures. If you were there, and I forgot you, please accept my apologies.

So we were there, and waiting. I was excited. They were excited too. When I mean waiting, I don't mean in a nice air-conditioned waiting room outside the delivery room. What I mean is waiting outside the building, in the waiting area next to the parking lot. At least there was a color TV there that worked. Around 1 am or so, we watched the end of Con Air (what a totally ridiculous film that was), and then the end of The Forgotten, which is better off left that way.

Since I wasn't even allowed in the building, I would sneak in the door to see if I could hear anything. It was silent. According to the board outside, there were 7 women in there giving birth, and the only sound I could hear was a machine going "BING!" Heck, I was expecting wild screaming and pleas for mercy, like we heard when we checked in that afternoon. Or at least some mild whimpering. But there was nothing.

So I decided to do my stupid foreigner thing, and wander around trying to find the bathroom. Still, nothing. It was if they all decided to go out for ice cream or something.

At 3am, Saras came out and said that the pregnancy was progressing slowly. They had given Trien a sedative, and she was asleep! Here I am walking around expecting to hear that our daughter was born, and she's snoozing. That was OK, though. Since the labor was so long, they wanted her to get some rest, so when the big push finally came, she would have the strength for it. Later, Trien said when the intense pain would happen, she would wake up, and then drowse for a while.

By that time, we were all sitting there drooling and looking at each other cross-eyed. Nothing was happening, Trien was asleep, so we might as well do the same.

About 8:30, I got a call from Saras. I was groggy as anything. She said that Trien had delivered a baby girl, and mother and baby were fine. Feeling like I did, that left me underwhelmed. I felt duty bound to call up my family and let them know, and as I did, I started coming to. I even got a little excited, until I realized I wouldn't be able to see Mommy and Baby until 12:30 anyway, because they wouldn't let me in until visiting hours.

-To Be Continued-

God's Wonderful Gift

2007-09-02T22:44:00.000+08:00

Melody's Picture

2007-09-02T16:13:00.000+08:00

Merdeka

2007-08-31T22:50:00.000+08:00

Today is the 50th anniversary of Malaysian Independence.

Happy Merdeka to All!

The Prelude to the Big Day

2007-08-31T21:31:00.000+08:00

The Day is almost upon us. Trien is in the hospital now. The baby will be born tomorrow, for sure. No more waiting. They are going to induce labor in the morning.

This morning, the baby started making these strange movements with her arms. It was unlike anything she'd ever done before. They were moving fast, unlike her normal sedate movements. After that, she didn't move at all for a couple hours. That got us worried.

We went to the hospital for a checkup. While we were concerned, we didn't think it was anything major. We figured she was probably asleep, but decided to play it safe. No use taking anything for granted when you are this far along.

After we got to the hospital, Melody moved slightly, but nothing like her normal movements, which would last for more than just a couple of seconds. They took Trien inside to the clinic, while I had to stay outside in the waiting area, and look cross eyed at the otheres waiting there, and ponder whether that was haze over Bukit Larut, or if it was just humidity.

There was a TV. It was on channel three, with a bunch of talking heads chattering on in Malay about Merdeka. I don't think I would have found it interesting even if I understood the language. Since there was only one other person there at the time, a middle aged, (or seemingly middle aged) Malay woman, I changed the to channel 7, where they were showing the Cirque du Soleil, which was much nicer, a helluva lot more interesting, and needed no translation.

Finally Trien came outside to see me. The results? The babys heartbeat was good. The ultrasound revealed that there was less fluid in the womb then there should be. So they were going to admit her to the hospital. I had to run over to the main building to get her admitted first.

At first the registrar wanted an RM 800 deposit. I told her I only had a couple hundred and change. She asked how much I wanted to give. I was ready to give her everything but the change. After talking to her though, and telling her that I worked at SERATAS, and had an employment letter (even though it only covers me), she waived the deposit. So I ran back to the maternity ward. Third class, which is an open ward with about 40 beds, dorm style. The first and second class wards were full. A busy Merdeka for babies, that's for sure.

When I got back, they had Trien on the fetal heart monitor, which gave Daddy some anxious moments, watching the heart rate go up to 150 or so, then down to 120.

I almost had a stroke, though, when they asked her to turn on her side. Then the fetal heart monitor started doing all sorts of things. One moment it would go to 240, then to 90, then to 190, then zero, then stop reading all together. Each time it would fluctuate, so would the beating of my heart, as if I was tied into the monitor. I ran to get the nurse, who looked at it, and had her lay back on her back, when everything went back to normal. The doctor looked at the tape, but didn't seem too concerned.

We are getting good support here from everyone here. Saras, the maternity nurse from the church, and her husband, who's a cop, picked me up at the hospital and took me home and back to the hospital, so I could get Trien's things. We didn't bring anything, since we didn't think she'd be admitted. Saras also told the nurses in the ward that Trien and I are her friends, and to keep a special eye on her. So we have been getting good service, despite being in the third class ward. Saras and her husband also brought their old Baby crib up to our apartment for us to use.

Saras is working the morning shift in the ward where Trien is, so she will be with her when they induce labor. I won't be, because they won't the Daddys in the ward until visiting hours at 12:30pm.

She won't be alone until then, though. Mr. S. Manogaran, one of the instructors at school, well, his wife happens to be a maternity nurse in the adjoining ward, just a few steps from where Trien is. I ran out to get Trien "Some rice and mutton", and I ran into him at the same restaurant buying something for his wife. I hurriedly rote down where Trien is, and when I came back, his wife came over to check to see how she was doing. She has my number to call me in case anything goes wrong. I'm sure she will be checking on Trien throughout the night. She was also very helpful in other things. God is really working overtime to help us out with this one.

We've already had lots of phone calls, and visits from friends wishing us well. Everyone has been offering their help and support. We don't lack for anything right now.

God has put us in a very good place. We are Truly Blessed!

Baby Report Week 40: Still Waiting

2007-08-30T16:14:00.000+08:00

Today makes 40 weeks of pregnancy. Still no little Melody Angelica yet.

That's probably for the best, since my health hasn't been good the past few weeks. What with medical leave, the semester break, and what have you, the students here haven't seen much of me the past few weeks. When I walked into my first class this morning, the students actually cheered! That really made me feel good. Some of the the students told me that they missed me. One of the students told me how they were talking in class about how they miss my classes- my joking around, the things we do. When I walked into another class, there was a question written on the board:

"Why hasn't Mr. John been in class?"

I guess it was a rhetorical question.
Another question I was asked was whether I would be teaching here next year. That I don't know. I know Trien has been giving indications that she would like to stay another year. Being a Filipina, she's not going to say it right out, but I can read between the lines.

The students seem to want me to stick around for another year, but I don't know. The last principal was great, but this one, well- let me stop there and let you infer the rest.

Still, it's definitely nice to be missed, and to be appreciated.

When we leave here, I will miss this place.

On to business: Trien went for her checkup yesterday, and everything is normal. The baby's heartbeat is active, and everything is normal with Mommy, too. She has to keep track of the baby's movements. If the baby moves less than 10 times over 13 hours, we have to go to the hospital. If not, then Trien has an appointment next Wednesday. If she hasn't delivered before then, they will probably induce labor.

So at least we have a deadline.

Trien will be happy to finally give birth, what with all the changes her body has gone through, the discomfort, and everything else. It will be a relief to not be a raging hormone factory any more. To her credit, she has been pretty even tempered through it all.

Well, time to go. I am getting kicked out of the pc room in school.

Happy Merdeka to All!!!

Jungle Crotch Rot

2007-08-30T15:23:00.000+08:00

Yup, that's what I got. I haven't been feeling well the past couple of weeks, and this certainly doesn't help any.

I had cold and was feeling constricted in my chest. I went to a couple of doctors, and they gave me the usual, cough syrups, some antibiotics, but they didn't help much. Sister Saras from our church, recommended Dr. Philipp, who has a surgery by the firehouse. He looked me over, and diagnosed that I had a mild case of pneumonmia. So he gave me a bunch of antibiotics, and no cough syrup. He also said that I might have Grave's Disease, or hyperthyroid.

So on Sunday, I fasted- nothing unusual there, I usually do anyway, and he took blood to do a comprehensive bloodwork on me. He also did an ultrasound scan of the vital organs, and continued the antibiotics.

Sunday night, I looked at Trien's leg, and there is an oozing cut on it that didn't look good at all.

Monday was the first day back after semester break. There wasn't much to do, because all my morning classes were canceled because of the assembly, and student meetings. So Mr. Wong drove me back home, and we picked up Trien, and went back to Dr. Philipp. Mr. Wong didn't have anything else to do either, and I know he was looking for an excuse to get away for awhile, too.

The doctor said it was either an allergy, or an insect bite. He gave Trien some cream.

I had some redness and soreness on my testicles. He checked that out, said it wasn't too bad, and that he didn't want to overload me by treating me for that, too.

So Trien and I had brunch at the roti cannai stand, and I walked back to school. When I went home, and took off my underwear, I literally had to peel it off, and there was blood in it. Not a lot, mind you, but enough. My cojones looked like ground hamburger, and were oozing. Not exactly the most comfortable feeling.

Trien made some calls, trying to see if there was a urologist around. We couldn't find any.

The next morning, I called work, and told them I was going with my wife to the doctor, which was the truth. We were going, but I was the one seeing him.

It was worse looking. I will save you the rest of the gory details. He gave me a shot of Rocephrin, some more antibiotics, and a topical cream. Plus, he gave me a medical certificate good for two days off. That way, I could stay at home, and walk around free and easy if I wanted. Instead, I wore a sarong, because one of Trien's Filipina friends came over, and they spent those two days decorating the baby's room.

Right now, I am a walking antibiotic cocktail. I got ones for pneumonia, and jungle crotch rot (I don't know what else to call it) running through me.

the JCR is getting better. The family jewels look less like swollen, scabby, oozing hambuger, and more like they should look. The infection, which was spreading to the underside of John Jr., hasn't gotten worse. Praise God for that!

I went back to work today. Thank God I got a ride just after I started walking, in a car, and not a motorbike! God is looking out for me.

When people at work asked me why I was walking funny, I just told them they didn't want to know. All I said was I had an infection in a painful place.

So literally, being at work today is a real pain in the balls!

At least tomorrow we have the day off, for Merdeka, the 50th anniversary of Malaysian Independence.

Good thing, too, because I think tomorrow Trien is going to give birth.

How to Make Your Own High Contrast Baby Mobile

2007-08-27T14:02:00.001+08:00

From what I've been reading, mobiles are one of the greatest things you can get for your baby. Not only are they fascinated by them, and will look at them for hours, but they also stimulate your baby's development. One thing I read, said that by using a mobile over the crib, an infants brain connections can increase by 25%.

The best mobiles for baby's seem to be the so called "high contrast" black and white ones. Research shows that up until the fifth month, babies can only see in shades of gray. Because of this, high contrasting colors are what hold their interest, especially black and white (with possibly with a little red thrown in).

So of course, I would like to get one of these for our little Melody when she is born.

I can't go out and buy one from the store. The only kind of baby mobiles I can find here in Taiping are these cheap Chinese made plastic musical monstrosities, that would either give your baby lead poisoning, or break after you wind it up a couple of times. Definitely not what I am looking for. Instead, I bought a colorful wind chime.

Still, I want to get one of these cool high contrast baby mobiles for Melody. It is highly unlikely that there is a store even in Penang that sells something like them. Buying it online and having it shipped here? Please, be serious. The freight charges alone would kill you, that is, if they would even consider shipping it here in the first place. So it seems that the only way I am going to be able to get one of these cool mobiles for Melody is to make one myself.

So I set out on a webquest:

1. To find a site that will have high contrast images I can download and print out

2. And also tell me how to make the thing.

I found a couple of sites that fit the bill.

This site has some really great images in pdf format that you can download, and print out later. As for me, using the cranky computers we have in school, I found it easier to click on the images, save them to the desktop, then print them out. It also has simple instructions on how to put your mobile together. The images above are from this site.

For those who need more detailed instructions on how to build your high contrast baby mobile, there is this site, complete with step by step pictures. It is written by a guy who was challenged by his wife to build his own baby mobile in one afternoon. So I suppose if you have the time, it is possible to do.

This site has high contrast pictures of animals, like the ones you see at the right. It also has some instructions, but if you aren't that handy, you may want to look at the above mentioned website to get some idea of what you are doing.

I already printed out the black and white pictures I need. Some of the other stuff I have lying around the house. I'll have to look around for the cardboard and other things I'll need, but they shouldn't be too hard to find, even in Taiping.

I figure that I can build this after Melody is born, and I am on paternity leave. She'll probably be sleeping most of the time anyway, so this will give me something useful and creative to do. Trien will probably want to do her part, too. It should be fun to build something together for our daughter.

Only one problem though- I am trying to figure what I am going to use to hang it from. My idea is to buy one of those cheap Chinese musical mobiles, throw out the mobile, and just use the hanger. Hmmm . . . maybe I can get some use out of that cheap Chinese mobile after all. I can use it to terrorize the stupid cats that hang around here. That is, if Trien would let me!

Toyota's Contribution to Merdeka- The "Merde Car"

2007-08-26T21:08:00.001+08:00

Merdeka is the Malaysian word for Independence. It also is the word for Malaysian Independence day.This Friday, August 31st, is the 50th anniversary of Malaysian Independence. So there will be a big celebration and what not going on.

Last year, Toyota in KL decided to have a promotion to mark Merdeka. What brilliant idea did they come up with? How about-

The Merde Car!!!
(pictured above)

Obviously, no one in the Toyota office here speaks French. If you don't know what merde means, I'm not going to tell you. Suffice it to say you won't find it in the average English-French dictionary. But if you eat some bad Brie, you'll end up making lots of it. . .

National Conference

2007-08-26T19:35:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow is supposed to be the start of CfBT Malaysia's National Conference. All the other PET's (Project English Teachers, not a very flattering acronym), ELC's (English Language Coordinators- what can I say, someone in the Ministry of Education must have a thing for animal acronyms), at least the ones still standing, errrr . . . remaining, are going to be there. So will the whole CfBT office staff, higher ups from the CDC (No- not the Center for Disease Control. In Malaysia it means the Curriculum Development Center of the Ministry of Education, who are our bosses) and various VIP's from the Ministry looking for a free lunch. I'm told it's going to be held at a very nice resort hotel in Malacca. Which one, I'm not sure. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going.

Not that I wouldn't love to go. It would be nice to get another weeks vacation tacked on to a nine day semester break, at a resort hotel. Even at a crappy resort hotel. Or wherever. It also would be nice to get to see everybody again, and see how they are getting on. In any other situation, Trien and I would be going home after I finish here, and she's done talking with her friends at Vanessa's apartment, to pack up our things.

Not this time, though. Instead, we are going to go home, get a shower, and start decorating the baby's room, before her much anticipated arrival. Then I have to get to bed so I can go teach tomorrow. WHOOOOOOOPEEEE! Now isn't that exciting? I sure as anything rather be on the road to Malacca tomorrow. As long as Rod Deering wasn't driving his Proton Saga like a test track driver. He tends to do that when he gets deep into a discussion. Or maybe it's when he doesn't like the way the discussion is going. I'm not sure which.

I wouldn't be in this spot if the CDC didn't keep moving the date for the conference around. It was canceled twice. Originally it was going to be in June, which would have been fine. Then it was going to be in the beginning of July, which was still OK. Then, in all their infinite wisdom, they move it to the week Trien is due to deliver. So that means no free vacation with all the rest of CfBT, at least not this year.

Instead, my vacation will come after Melody is born. And what vacation could be better than that?

My Latest Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Obsession

2007-08-25T21:57:00.000+08:00

I have previously written about having Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's something I can't deny. It's an everyday part of my life, just like eating and sleeping. Just like eating and sleeping, some days I end up obsessing and compulsing more than other days, depending on circumstances, such as how much idle free time I have. Obviously, the more idle free time I have, the more time I have to indulge my urge to eat, sleep, and perform my "rituals" (like hand washing), and obsess on things.

One of the ways that my OCD manifests is that I get the compulsion to collect things. Without a doubt, I am a pack rat. I have a hard time throwing anything, even the most meaningless piece of paper, out. It is a small triumph if I am able to go through the ever growing piles of paper and miscellaneous excreta on my desk at work and throw anything out.

When I have too much idle time, or get stressed, I go on these collecting jags. You never know what it might be that I will obsess on collecting. All I know is that I have to satisfy the urge somehow, or I start obsessing about it. Then, the collecting urge gets worse, in a vicious cycle. I have been able to stifle the urge somewhat, and not clutter our place, by downloading files from the Internet.

My portable hard drive has 1,150 songs on it. Every time I go to th Internet cafe, I end up downloading more. It seems that I want to download every song that has been background music to my life, because every song has a memory connected with it.

Memories, or actually the anticipation of memories to come, is what is feeding my latest collecting craze- baby toys, and things for our baby.

I got back yesterday, and showed Trien what I bought. She thought what I bought was reasonable and useful, and when her friends came over today, they liked it too. So I felt good.

Today I had to run out of the house and go find stuff to decorate the baby's room. I spent at least a half hour pondering the virtues of the various wind chimes in one of the local stores before one of the salesgirls came over and tried to help me. I explained why I was so obsessed with wind chimes, then finally realized I better come back tomorrow with Trien and have her help me pick one out. In the meantime, I bought one of the small ones. Why, I don't know. Maybe just to introduce the concept to my wife, and show her how nice it would be to put one, (or more) in Melody's room.

Then it was over to The Store (that is the department store chains name), to spend more time in the baby section looking at the toys, then at the toy session. Before you know it, three hours had gone by all together. I did get something great, some rattle socks they talked about in ythe baby development book. Buying those, for me, was a minor triumph. Then there was the cute baby overalls that were on sale . . .

I know that I am doing this because of stress, and impatience waiting for Melody to be born. Who knows how I will act, and what I will obsess on, after she is born.

Even I can't tell you that!

My Latest Project

2007-08-24T20:24:00.000+08:00

I am here at the Internet Cafe. Trien is alone at home. While I don't like leaving her, I had no choice. She was tired. After all, she went walking four times yesterday, because she thought that by getting exercise, she might induce labor. Obviously that didn't work. All it did was wear her out. Meanwhile, Melody is happily kicking away in the womb. She doesn't seem to want to come out.

On one of her walks yesterday, Trien and I went to the BabyCentre, here in Taiping, to pick up a few things we need. They obviously recently took inventory, and rearranged things. Because of that, I was able to find a couple of things that weren't there before.

One was a baby bath. This one had obviously been sitting in a storeroom somewhere, because it was dirty, and the a little bit of the slip-proof padding on the back had come unglued. It was perfect for our needs. After finding out from the salesperson that it was the only one, I was able to get a 25% discount. That made me feel good. I washed it today, and it looks good as new.

The other thing was a glove that had finger puppets on it. It is blue, has a castle on the hand, and five different characters on the fingers. There is a king, a queen, a jester, a knight, and a dragon. I was showing it to Trien and doing my cartoon voices by her tummy, and Melody must have liked that, because she was moving like crazy.

Well, our trip yesterday, and the fact that I started reading a book on how to stimulate your baby's development, plus the fact I had to get out, made me take a trip over to the local department store to raid the toy department. Trien is going to kill me when she sees what I bought. What the heck, at least I will have fun playing with it before the baby comes!

Then I figured- instead of buying stuff- Why not make my own! That would be fun, and keep Trien from tying to the bed to keep me from buying more baby toys.

So my latest project will be making a baby mobile. I already have the plans on my portable hard drive. It looks really simple, and I can use either stuff from around the house, or stuff that's easy to get. If I make my own, we can change the little things hanging down, whatever you call them, whenever I feel like making different ones. One thing though- instead of using string, it looks like it is advisable to use zip ties, so baby doesn't get tangled or strangled. That's because whatever I make or buy, its all got to be baby safe. Believe me, Daddy is not going to take any chances with Melody's health and safety. It means the world to me!

The Visitation by the Sultan of Perak

2007-08-22T19:21:00.000+08:00

The Sultan of Perak, Sultan Azlan Shah, visitied us at SERATAS on Saturday, August 19. That doesn't mean much when you feel like crap. I'll write more when I feel better. It was my job to take pictures, so here's a couple of the Royal Dude of Perak, and his ride, a Rolls Royce limo.

Most excellent wheels, Your Royal Dudeness!

Pregnancy Report Week 39- Still Waiting

2007-08-22T18:00:00.000+08:00

Trien just finished her latest checkup. All is well. She had her scan, and the baby is OK. The only problem she had was last night Melody slept all night with her feet pressing just below Triens rib cage. When Daddy "tickled" Melody's feet in the morning, she changed position, and everything was all right.

Me? I'm not so well. The reason I haven't been blogging regularly is that I've been feeling sick the past couple of weeks. I want to the doctor before, but it didn't help too much.

I went to another doctor today, because I don't want to get Trien sick just before she delivers, or get the baby sick after she delivers. This doctor was recommended to us by Saras, the nurse at the maternity center who goes to our church. He is the closest doctor to our place, and seems to be pretty good. His office is pretty well stocked. He even has an ultrasound machine in his examining room. He listened to my symptoms, checked me out, and after listening to my chest, he thinks I might have a mild case of pneumonia. He gave me some antibiotics, vitamins, and other stuff.

He wants to check me out for a hyperthyroid. In checking out what the symptoms are, it looks like he might be on the right track. My problems could be caused by more than just stress. No other doctor even thought to look past the immediate symptoms. I guess Doctor Philipp will be getting more of our business from now on.

Pregnancy Report Week 38- Back Again

2007-08-18T21:36:00.000+08:00

I haven't been blogging for the past few days because I have been sick. It has been because of a combination of things- one of which is the haze which our kind, considerate neighbors in Sumatra send our way every August. This has lead to some respiratory problems. It could be that I am allergic to something in the smoke. One thing I know is that I don't like breathing it, even though here in Taiping it is nowhere near as dense as in KL.

The other thing is exhaustion. I haven't been sleeping well because of worry and anxiety over Trien's pregnancy, and that has taken a toll on me. When I go to school in the morning I feel like I am still asleep, and feel the same way all day.

Mr. Wong took me to see a doctor, one of his friends he plays squash with. Dr. Prem Kumar is in his early sixties, but looking at him you would swear that he is at least twenty years younger. Mr. Wong says he plays squash like he was twenty years younger too. His office is in a little old Kampung building in Pokok Assam, across from the post office. He took my blood pressure, which was normal. Last time it was taken, it was high- 150/90. Again, from stress.

So he checked me out, and looked at my throat. After he did, he said it was in bad shape, and asked me if I smoked. I don't, at least not voluntarily. Living in Malaysia during The Haze is like smoking six packs of cigarettes a day, except you have no idea what kind of toxic substances you are inhaling.

He gave me some cough medicine, vitamin C, antibiotics, and I guess some acetaminophen- the standard stuff.

I took it, as the doctor ordered, and felt like I was in a coma for the first day, and semi-conscious the second. The third day I was just walking around in a fog, and went to teach class.

I know I have to try to relax more, and get some more rest.

As for the baby, we are still waiting. Trien keeps having false labor pains. That's kind of hard, because after a while, it becomes like the boy who cried wolf. Of course it's not her fault. Her body is just getting ready for the big day.

Every day brings the big event a little closer. Every day the waiting gets harder.

A Preview of What is to Come

2007-08-13T15:52:00.000+08:00

These are a couple of pictures from our photo sharing site. They are of Trien, with our friend's daughter. I looked at them and said, "Wow! This is what will be happening soon!"

So I have to satisfy my urge to see our baby by looking at these pictures in proxy, and pretending that is our baby she is holding.

The waiting gets harder every day.

The Worst Reviewed Film Ever

2007-08-13T12:49:00.000+08:00

I saw this film after my house mate in Korea, Tony rented the video. Tony was a kid just out of college, and even he couldn't sit through more than a few minutes of this without screaming and tearing out his hair. Even though it didn't cost me a cent to watch it, I still wanted my money back! You can't even call this a film by any stretch of the imagination. As a matter of fact, I don't have the slightest idea what you would call it. You can call it the greatest affront to western culture ever created, and no one would bother to argue with you.

This one is really, truly, horribly bad. There is not one redeeming feature or quality to this movie. To say this so called film is utterly brainless would be paying it a compliment of the first order. Everyone involved in its making should be tortured to death by having to watch the outtakes. At the very least, they should all be neutered so that they won't have children who will grow up and make execrable disgraces such as this.

I say this after only seeing five minutes of it. After that, I had to turn it off because I lost more neurons in those five minutes than I would have if I spent the rest of my life dropping acid. If I was forced to watch any more of it, I would have had to end my suffering by reaching under the kitchen sink and drinking a Drano cocktail.

It would be a great movie to use to force prisoners into giving confessions in Gitmo.

So, are you curious to find out what it is?

I post the link to rottentomatoes.com here, so others may not have to suffer this insult to humanity.

Believe me, even if you are alone on a desert island somewhere, and there is no other entertainment available, you're better off spending your time masturbating. At least if you do that, you'll feel good.

More Monkey Pictures

2007-08-12T19:39:00.000+08:00

Here's some more monkey pictures.

This family was feeding these guys bananas, so the kids could get a close up look.

Too bad I couldn't get a picture of the kid's faces in the car.
That would have been a prize winner for sure!

Dirty Monkeys

2007-08-12T19:27:00.000+08:00

Everyone loves pictures of monkeys. I like taking pictures of them. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Here are two of some wet and dirty monkeys. I have no idea what they did to get themselves in such a state, but it must have been fun. I publish these without further comment. Make of them what you will.

The Latest Mommy Pics

2007-08-12T16:06:00.000+08:00

I finally got Trien to pose for some new Mommy pictures before church today. Not that I can blame her for not posing before. If I was pregnant, had a big tummy, and had to pee constantly, I wouldn't feel much like posing either. Not if I cared anything about what I looked like.

She thinks that being pregnant makes her look ugly. Sometimes she looks at herself and then at me and says, "Ugly Mommy, handsome Daddy." Sure, being in this state can't make you feel very beautiful. It's draining, both physically and mentally, I know. Yet the changes that have taken place in her body don't make her look ugly to me. Sure, a huge belly might look unsightly, but nothing could make her more beautiful than carrying my child. Sometimes there is just a little something about her, yes, you might even say a glow, that really makes her seem so pretty.

So I never tried to force things. Still, I want to have something to show our daughter when she is older. Some Mommy pictures to show her along with the first baby pictures.

Trien also gets a little jealous if she sees me looking at other women. I always do it, partially because I like observing people, and partially because I like looking at beautiful things, and I find few things more lovely than the female countenance and form. If I didn't, then I wouldn't have married one!

So in order to make her feel better about herself, and let her know I still love her and find her attractive, I try to take her picture. I never have asked any other woman to pose for me, have I Baby?

If she has her way, I never will.

If I have my way, these are the last Mommy pictures she'll pose for.
The waiting continues.

SERATAS Makes the Malaysian Book of Records

2007-08-10T21:47:00.000+08:00

Congratulations to our students, who made the Malaysian Book of Records for "The Biggest National Logo Made of Recyclable Materials".

The other week I left the staff room, when I saw a bunch of form 1 and form 2 students dipping donut shaped pieces of paper in blue paint. Meor, one of the students from 2Z, had so much blue paint all over him, that he looked like an extra from "Braveheart". When I asked Meor and the other students what they were doing, they weren't able to tell me anything, other than they were making a flag or something. Then it started to rain, and they started throwing the blue paper rings on the porch of the engineering building.

A couple of days ago I left the office, and the lower form students were on the field with plastic bags filled with red white and blue rings. Encik Khairuddin was on the loudspeaker in the reviewing stand, shouting instructions. Then it became clear what they were making- a national logo out of newspaper and cardboard for the 50th Merdeka, the 50th anniversary of Malaysian Independence.

Today, the students made the logo for some VIP from the education department who was retiring. They got a certificate from the Malaysian Book of Records honoring their achievement. They deserve it, if for nothing else than having to sit out in the hot sun for a couple of hours having to listen to a bunch of insipid "Inspirational Speeches". More like aural torture, I'd say.

Well anyway, congratulations kids! Both for the record, and enduring the sweltering heat and all the dramatically boring speeches.

Pregnancy Report Week 37: The Waiting

2007-08-09T10:00:00.000+08:00

Well right now, it is just like it says in the old Tom Petty song: "The waiting is the hardest part". We have reached 37 weeks in the pregnancy, and now the baby is considered full term. Everything is developed, but she is still in Mommy's womb, growing and putting on weight.

Trien And I both can't wait for the birth. She has an advantage in waiting for the event that I don't. Our daughter talks to her, and appears in her dreams. She doesn't appear in mine, and I am starting to wonder why. I am her father, after all.

Trien says it is because her and our baby have such a close physical connection, which is true. In that aspect, I am on the outside looking in. I can put my hand on Trien's tummy and feel the baby moving inside her, but she actually has the baby inside of her, living as part of her. She feels little Melody there all the time, whether she is moving or not. So her connection with our daughter is very close, where mine is more distant. Why wouldn't there be a special psychic bond there between mother and daughter?

I envy my wife having this connection with our daughter before birth. Trien is already one up on me in bonding with our baby. What it means is that I will have to work that much harder to have the same connection with our daughter after birth. That doesn't bother me, because I know it will be worth it.

An example of what I am talking about is the dream Trien had yesterday. She saw our daughter, floating on some clouds, happy and playing. She saw her clearly- a little mestiza with black hair and her Daddy's eyes. Melody said "Hello Mommy!", and Trien said she felt like she was telling her that she was OK, you just have to wait. Trien felt happy after that dream, and knew everything is OK. Me? I'm still fetting and nervous, as usual.

This was Trien's 4th or 5th dream about the baby. I have only had one, and in my dream, I didn't even get to see her. It was just a vague, anomalous dream where I only felt her presence. Not very satisfying, but at least I did have some sort of brief psychic connection with our child.

Last night I sidled up to Trien's tummy, and I talked to Melody.

"Please, Melody, talk to Daddy in a dream like you talk to Mommy. Please let Daddy see you."

It didn't happen. It looks like my first glimpse of our daughter will come on the big day.

I'm still waiting, and like the song says, the waiting is the hardest part.

Baby Einstein and Brainy Baby Videos No Good for Your Baby?

2007-08-08T19:24:00.000+08:00

Trien and I want to give our soon to be born daughter every developmental advantage we can. Not that I want to churn out a female John Stuart Mill or anything like that. We just want to develop her natural gifts and interests, without putting any pressure on her.

The first thing I did was to download a baby sign language book off the Internet. Later on, my sister sent us baby sign language flashcards. Bay sign language is supposed to be a great help both to baby and the parents, in that you can communicate with each other before your baby can speak. My brother and sister-in-law taught sign language to their daughter, and she is 20 months now and is very advanced in her language skills. She can speak and understand both Mandarin and English. They both swear that teaching her sign language greatly sped up her development in this area.

The next thing we have done to help our daughters development while she is in the womb, is that we have been playing classical music since about the 23rd week of pregnancy, when she first showed signs that she responded to music. We have some Mozart, and I have Beethoven, some Bach, and other classical music I am going to burn onto CD for our little Melody. One of the reasons we picked out the name Melody for her is because she seems to enjoy music so much. When we play music, she seems to start dancing in Mommy's tummy.

Finally, I have bought these "Baby Einstein" videos, which seem not to be real Baby Einstein videos, despite their official looking seal and packaging. One of them looks pretty professionally done, and might be the real thing, but the other two look like someones home videos with musical accompaniment. It looks like they spent all of $2 for the actors and production costs. Which Is less than the RM 20 it cost me to buy them.

Anyway, I did download the real thing at the Internet cafe here, and these look legit. I was already to burn them onto CD, until I read this article. Now I don't know what I am going to do.

I didn't know that pediatricians recommended that children under two not watch TV. OK- that means these videos and other of the same ilk are not recommended for use. But now, according to the article, there is legitimate research in The Journal of Pediatrics that says these videos can actually retard your baby's language development? YIKES!

I will have to do more research on the subject. In any case, I think the time would be better spent playing with Melody, and making faces with her, than watching videos.

What the hell! Into the trash, and erased from the hard drive they go!

If that's true, the "Baby Einstein" videos I bought are destined to become Frisbees, decorations, or coasters. It seems like they'll be more useful that way.

Introspection

2007-08-07T16:09:00.001+08:00

OK, so somehow I am able to Blog, I just can't see what I publish. I guess somehow in the fit of things in this part of the Internet universe, that makes sense. Little else does.

Like when I come home, and my wife is running the water in the bathroom, and nothing is coming out but mud. It seems that they are working on the water mains in front of our apartment complex, ripping up trees and digging trenches, and making a horrible mess of the landscape. And more than likely, doing a really sh***y job of it too, but this is Malaysia, and the prevailing attitude is "I just don't care". They didn't give any notice that this would happen, again, because the attitude is, "I just don't care."

Well, I do care, and I care about a lot of things people tell me I shouldn't care about. Fine. I'll write about those things later. One of the things I do care about is writing this Blog. For me, it's becoming more and more, "I think, therefore I Blog". Whatever I think about, I like to write here. I have to get this stuff down, whether anybody reads it or not. Of course, I would like others to read and enjoy what I write, but I get pleasure just from writing it.

Like Socrates or someone else said, "The unexamined life is not worth living" Right now, I think I am starting to understand what that means. I don't know if it's not worth living, but I know it's a lot less interesting, and you miss a lot of lessons a long the way. It sucks when you miss a life lesson, and then have to go through the same thing over and over, in an endless feedback loop, because you didn't take time to look at what was happening to you, and all around around you, and learn the lesson the first time. That has happened to me a lot, but as I am getting older, and hopefully wiser, it is happening less and less. The things that I do miss, usually, in my own unique myopic way, are the major things standing in front of me that I should pay more attention too. I'm learning that I have to catch something right at the beginning, and not let it get out of hand and blow up into a big issue. Sure, I've hurt people and made mistakes, and that nags at me. People may forgive me, but sometimes I just can't forgive myself. I am getting better at that, though, and learning to look deep inside of me and see what caused whatever it was, and try to deal with it courageously. It hurts to suddenly see yourself not as you think you are, but through the eyes of reality.

As George Santayana said, "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it." I don't want to repeat history. Especially not to repeat the parenting mistakes my parents made with me. With all my Soul, I want to be the best parent I can be to my daughter, and be the best husband I can be to my wife. This takes a lot of inner scrutiny, and a lot of fortitude, but I don't want to hurt the ones I Love the most. I don't want to hurt anybody any more, intentionally or not. I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I want to Love myself the way that God Loves me, the way that my wife Loves me, and the way I hope our baby will Love me.

That takes introspection. Writing this Blog is helping me to see things, even if I don't share them with you. Sometimes I like the things I see. Other times I don't. But at least now, I am seeing them.

OK, enough of this mental vomit for now.

Test Post: The Bloggers Lament

2007-08-07T16:01:00.000+08:00

The Ministry of Education has this crazy filtering system here. I can see the reason for that, but I can't see the reason for some of the sites they block. Yesterday I wrote a post, and because of the filter used by the ministry servers, I lost it all. So today I am going to experiment, and see if there is a way for me save this or to publish it. As a test, I give you this original poem, "A Bloggers Lament", based on a popular jingle commonly written on bathroom walls.

Here I sit,
Brokenhearted,
Tried to Blog,
But can't get started

My 200th Post- OCD and ADD

2007-08-05T19:17:00.000+08:00

So, I've come to another milestone in my life. 200 posts. I've stuck with this blogging thing for two hundred posts, and I'm still going. Keeping at any project for 200 times is quite an accomplishment for me. That's because I suffer from a double whammy of alphabetical psychological syndromes- OCD and ADD, and who knows what else. At least in this case, my OCD is helping me, by giving me a compulsion to keep blogging, no matter what. If you know how to manipulate it, OCD can actually be helpful in certain ways. Mostly, though, it is just a real pain in the ass.

I've written about my OCD before. It's still there, and it manifests itself in different ways. The most obvious way it manifests is through the classical symptoms of hand washing and germophobia. I wash my hands many times a day. My bottle of hand sanitizer stays with me wherever I go. If I touch anything which I consider "dirty", out comes the sanitizer, and I feel better. What does "dirty" consist of? Sometimes I don't even know myself. I know that if something that is "dirty" touches something that is "clean", then what is clean instantly becomes "dirty", and stays that way until it is somehow sanitized. I carry a whole list of things that are "dirty" in my mind, things (and sometimes people) that I have to avoid for various reasons. Otherwise, I become dirty, and I have to do some cleaning ritual to make myself clean again.

Sometimes it is a thought that makes me dirty, and then I have to cleanse that thought from my mind, by doing another ritual. It could be saying a phrase to neutralize that bad thought. Sometimes I get that bad thought out of my mind by literally spitting it out, and expelling it from my mind and my consciousness. Other times, the only way to get that thought out of my mind is to obsess on something else.

Sometimes it is something else that I can't get out of my mind. Sometimes it is a song that literally will keep playing over and over in my mind for days on end. The only way to stop it is to find another song to take its place, hopefully one my mind will find less catchy. What helps during these times is that I have the ability to deconstruct the song in my mind, and follow the various parts. For example, lets say that the song that I am obsessing over is Pink Floyd's "The Wall". What I can do is follow just the lead guitar part, and then take it, and play around with it, and improvise a new lead part in my head. Then I can fit that into the rest of the parts, and play that back in my head. If I want to, I can follow each one of the parts individually in my head in turn, and play around with them. Sometimes what I will do is follow one of the parts, play around with it, and come up with a whole new song. I just wish that I knew how to write music, so that I could get these things down.

I also have the compulsion to fix things, straighten things and put them in order. If there's a loose thread somewhere, of course, I have to pull it, even if it means partially unraveling a sweater. If something is out of order, even if it doesn't seem that way to others, I have to "fix" it. Even if I know it would be better just to leave things alone, sometimes I just can't help myself. I just have to mess with things. I have to make things "perfect", even if I know that will make things worse. For example, sometimes I like to draw. Sometimes I can capture something in just a few simple lines. I stop and admire it. Then I have to try to improve it, and by adding another line or two to it, I ruin it, and that magic is lost.

Then there's also the compulsion to collect things. I have learned to control this somewhat by buying a portable hard drive. That way I can collect electrons and groups of ones and zeros, and easily move them from place to place. Electrons and ones and zeros don't weigh much, or take up space, which makes them very convenient for someone like me who likes to move from place to place. It was a really hard when my compulsion was to collect books.

I ended up with about 20 milk crates full of books. I never read 90% of them. I would buy a book because you never know when oh, say, a book like "Build Your Own Underground Home" will come in handy, or who could use it. So I would collect ball sorts of books, and drag them around with me all over the place. I would never think of getting rid of any of them, so they just kept piling up. They are sitting in my Mom's garage, along with the rest of my worldly goods she hasn't gotten rid of yet. My Mom complains that there is no space in her garage. It seems that she is a bit of a collector herself.

I have the first season of Monk on CD, and Trien likes to watch it before bedtime, now that we don't have cable TV anymore. I think she likes to watch it because she is looking for tips on how to live with me, or why I act the way I do. More than once she has said that me and Mr. Monk are the same. That's because she just doesn't know what label to put on my behavior. Well, Baby, it's OCD- Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

It's not something I want to pass on to my daughter. I pray that she won't have OCD, and be able to live a somewhat normal life free from rituals, obsessions, and compulsions, unlike me.

As for the ADD- well I'll have to write about that some other time. It is getting late, and Trien is at her friend's apartment. I know she'll be wanting to go home very soon. She may have even been calling me, but I wouldn't have none it because I have the volume cranked up on my headphones. What am I listening to? All the music that I have downloaded to my portable hard drive, of course!

The Merdeka Coloring Contest

2007-08-04T22:07:00.000+08:00

Today there was a coloring contest, held at the hall across the street from the Lake Gardens hawker center. It was sponsored by our church, Shekinah AOG, and the local member of Parliament, Datuk Dr. M. Kayveas. Trien had handed out entry forms to her friends so that their kids could enter. She wanted to go there and see what was going on. That was fine with me, but I wasn't going to stay. I spend all week around kids, so on the weekends, I need a break.

We walked over there. I wanted to take some "Mommy pictures" of her, to post on my Blog. She refused to stop and pose. So that meant that I had to take some action pictures. I was going to post one that had her sticking her tongue out at me wearing a really sour expression. She is sitting next to me, and said she will not be happy if I post it. Her tone and expression made it clear that there would be repercussions later, so like a good husband, I deleted it. So here is the nicest of the action shots for your perusal. As you can see, her tummy is getting really big.

Anyway, we got to the hall, and it was packed with kids, all busy coloring away. Some of the littlest one were doing the most professional job. Their parents had obviously sent them for lessons. Trien just told me about on little boy who insisted on giving all the people on his sheet green faces. They gave him 4 different sheets to color, and he made them green on each one.

Then there was Ramesh's son. When Trien asked his wife how he son did, she said, "Oh, he did very well! He was the first one finished!" She was joking, of course. Her son couldn't understand what was taking the others so long. Needless to say, he didn't take home a prize.

As for me, I went to the hawker stalls for my regular Saturday roti pisang breakfast. Then it was off to the Baby Center, to by a surprise gift for our baby.

Trien had wanted her friends and their kids to come to our place after the competition, so that they could go to the playground later on. I said no. I wanted to rest and have some peace, and I didn't want to have an apartment full of screaming kids running around. Last week I had to work Saturday, and had a full schedule of 6 classes, and this week was kind of rough. Being the sweet wife she is, Trien didn't argue. Instead, they went to someone elses house and had a Filipino barbecue. Thank God for that, because when I called her later, They were all so loud I couldn't hear her!

Time to go! Until tomorrow!

Pregnancy Report- Week 36

2007-08-03T16:03:00.000+08:00

OK, it looks like time is growing short. Things are happening that make it seem like the baby will be coming earlier than the end of August, as we were first told.

I came back from work on Monday, and Trien was in the living room, packing everything up for the trip to the hospital. Of course when you see your 9 month pregnant wife waddling around packing her bags, you know something is up, even if she insists that everything is OK.

Then she told me the news. Little Melody had dropped down into position for birth. While waddling around getting everything ready, she kept holding her tummy like it was an overloaded sack of groceries. She had a pained look on her face that she was trying to hide, but couldn't. I asked her what was wrong, and she said it felt like there was a watermelon resting against her cervix. That weight, of course, is little Melody's head. In God only knows how long, that watermelon is going to pass through an opening the size of a lemon. I thought it was happening right then and there.

I was even more concerned after she complained that she had pain in her lower abdomen, near her cervix. She said it was uncomfortable, but not painful as in labor. That made me wonder how she knew what labor pain felt like, as this is the first time she's going to give birth. With typical anxiety, I said to myself that she really is in labor! She assured me she wasn't having labor pains. The pain wasn't too bad, she said, but she had a sour look on her face the whole time.

To assure myself she was OK, and to comfort her, I felt her tummy. It was very tight, and felt like if it got any tighter, it would start to rip. That really did a lot to allay my fears. Later on, I touched it again, and it was back to normal. Then I realized what was happening. She was having contractions. Oh No! Time to panic again!

I managed to control myself though. I kept my hand on Trien's tummy, and could feel the contractions. Her tummy would get impossibly taut, then after a minute or so relax. Then came a refractory period of five minutes or so, when it would tighten up again.

(Contractions five minutes apart? Shouldn't I be calling the ambulance right now? Or should I just be popping Valium like Tic-Tacs? Trien might survive the delivery, but I'm not sure I will.)

Then I realized that it was the Braxton-Hicks practice contractions, except they were stronger than before. But how could you tell strong Braxton-Hicks contractions from real labor?

Trien kept telling me that she couldn't be in labor, because it didn't hurt too bad. Then I reminded her that Grace was telling us on the way to church how she didn't think she was in labor because it didn't hurt. She also told us of other women who were the same way. Trien's part in that conversation was telling about her sister-in-law, who lost a full term baby the first time she was pregnant, because she didn't realize that she was in labor. The baby, though, was in distress, and died right after delivery.

So of course, despite Trien's best efforts to calm me down, I was still worried that this was no dress rehearsal, this was the real thing.

Eventually, though, everything seemed to be normal. I regained some form of sanity, not that I have much to begin with.

Then Trien told me how she had spent her day- cleaning and preparing. I just came in at the end of it.

"I don't know, Honey, I couldn't control myself. I just had to clean and get ready. I don't know what happened."

OK, that's got to be a sign that the baby is coming soon. Sure enough, I found out later that right before giving birth, some women get the "nesting instinct", and start cleaning, cooking, and preparing everything, just like Trien had done. My sister did it. The women I talked to at school said they had done it. UH-OH!

Well, I think the "nesting instinct" also hits Daddys, too. I know it hit me, and pretty hard too.

Yesterday I had some errands to run. I asked Trien if she needed anything, and she said she wanted me to pick up some isotonic drink. No problem. The problem was that when I got to the store, I had this overwhelming urge to buy all the food in the store, even though we are well stocked. I went through the store, looking at food, picking it up, putting it back, only to go back again and ponder the wisdom of putting it back. It was driving me crazy! It was only by sheer force of will that I stopped myself from having to walk home with a dozen plastic bags loaded to bursting with everything edible in the place. Still, the compulsion was so strong that I had to buy something. Luckily, I was able to walk home with just a few bags of things that seemed somewhat reasonable to buy.

Today, Trien went to the wet market to buy meat, fish, and veggies. After work, I went into town to meet her, so we could have lunch together. We passed near the grocery store, and that insane urge to start buying food came back. It was only because she was with me that I didn't run off at full speed into the store and start ogling the ice cream.

Physically, I know the pregnancy is harder on her. She has to do all the hard work there.

Psychologically, I think I have the worst of it.

I can't help but wonder what I will be like when she actually does go into labor!

GAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Freewriting, Ideas, and the Big DUH!

2007-08-01T19:32:00.000+08:00

OK, I got quite a few Ideas from my free-writing yesterday. That's what always happens. Sometimes the ideas come together during free-writing, and I get that "AHA!" flash of insight where everything comes together. That's coooool, because then I can just follow the flow to wherever it goes, riding the wave until it ends, enjoying it all the while. It's great, and I get a real charge out of it, because I don't know where the story is going or how it's going to end. I work furiously to finish it, so I can see how the characters get out of these impossible situations they get into. Also, I need that sense of completeness that comes when I finish. If I don't finish, it feels like a baby that's only been half formed, and been aborted before it could have life.

I've actually written a couple of books and dozens of short stories that way. Right now, they are sitting in a box in my Mom's garage, along with all the rest of my worldly possessions that I left behind when I left the USA. I'm not going to say I will never go back, but if I do, it won't be soon. At least not until that evil clown in the White House leaves. I would like to get my notebooks back, so I can work on getting my writings together. How I will get them, I'm not sure. I'd hate to have what happened to Ernest Hemingway happen to me. Early on in his career, his wife Hadley packed all of his writings, including carbons, into a suitcase, to bring them to him while he was assignment. The suitcase was stolen off the train. All his early writings were gone, and never were recovered. Man, what a blow that must have been! It must have been like someone had stolen part of your Soul!

If I don't get that "AHA!" flash where it all comes together, the other way my ideas come to me is after free-writing. That's when the ideas have had a chance to play around inside my head, chasing each other around like happy puppies. Then I end up with so many ideas that I can't keep track of them all. The best I can do is reach out and grab a hold of a few of them, like trying to grab leaves in a hurricane. Much is gained, but much is lost. If I am lucky, when I start writing what I remember, most of what was lost will come back too. If not, then I can just take the major ideas I remember, and build off of that.

Right now, the major idea I have is comparing the Malaysia to what's happening with it's football team, and Airasia before Tony Fernandes came in and made it the highly successful Airline it is today. These things are a microcosm of the country. Malaysia will never be a great nation, because of the way things are run, and it's leadership. They turned Malaysian football into the laughing stock of Asia with their nepotism, political patronage, and incompetence. The same thing happened with Airasia before a competent leader with vision bought it for 1 Ringgit, after the government had run it into the ground.

You can't be a first rate country with fourth rate leadership that can't get it's mind out of the Kampung. My ideas are all in my head, ready to go. As a matter of fact, I have been obsessing about this for the past couple of days. I will have to write it out somewhere just to get it out so it quits nagging me. When I will publish it here, I don't know. It may have to wait until I leave this country, which will probably be when my contract ends at the end of this year.

Now for the Big DUH!

Speaking of having part of your Soul stolen: I was writing my posting for this Blog at work, in the Makmal Bestari (computer classroom). Since both the technicians are away at a conference this week, and I use it more than anyone else for my classes, I have the keys. I was alone, having chased the students away. Of course, the Internet connection was acting screwy. I decided to reset it by flipping the breaker switch. Which I did. Which cut off the power to the computer. Which made me lose the post I was deeply into working on, about working in ESL hell, Korea. You can imagine how I felt when all those ideas that I had down and ready to go disappeared in a flash of stupidity.

Flipping that switch was not a good idea. It made me lose a lot of good ideas. It was like I had just killed some of my best friends.

So I came here to the Internet cafe to see if I could revive some of the corpses.
They are still lying out there somewhere, dead.
In their place, is something else that has new life. While I am not over the hurt of losing those dead ideas, it helps me feel better.

Random Writing

2007-07-31T16:20:00.000+08:00

Well, I don't know what to writet today, so I will just start writing something, and hope something comes out of it. I refuse to edit it, so take it as you will. SOrt of James Joyceian stuff, just let it flow and see what comes out. It's the best way top start writing, just go, keep going and don't edit. It's the way I write things when I write things long hand.

My students are writing too, in their blogs. Theyu seem to jsut want to write internet or sms ENglish. Today I found some of the boys looking at a website where peoiple talk about the first time they had sex. They are 14, so of course they are curious, but that is not why we go to the compoutert room. So I told them that if I see them doingf it again, I will report them to their Agama teacher. (The muslim religion teacher). That brought a look of total shock anf horror to their faces. I told the next form 2 class I had that if they lookk at the same site, I would report them to Mr. Rahim, which would be even worse than reporting them to the Agam teacher. They looked at me blankly. They had never heard of the site before, and wanted to know what it was about. I think some of the boys might have written down the URL for future reference. YIKES! Not exactly what I ewanted! I just told them it was porn, and that if I found them loking at it during class time, they would have to tewll Mr. Rahim what they found so interesting about the site, so he could tell their parents.

Not that I am condoning kids looking at porn. Far from it, but the schedule her is so regimented, with every minute oif the day accounted for, that kids don't have a chance to be kids. They have to be little groewn ups, even though they are just kids, 12 and 13 years old in form 1 and 16 -17 in form five. Sure, there are boyfriends and girlfriends, but nothing serious. It's cute to sdee the form 1 and tweo students with their little puppy love affairs, but wouldn't it be much healtheir for them and their sense of identity to develop relationships, and be able to have friends outsied of this restrictive atmosphere. I'm not talking about letting them run around loose doing anything they want. If this was my son or daughtrer, that is the last thing I would want. Thisa school though is like an academic concentration camp- work work work, and they get an hour a day for cocurricular activitites, anf that is it. Then they have to find time to do theuir laubndry and shower, so I don't mind and understand when a student comes to class smelling bad or with stainded clothes anfd looks like they've slept in their schoolclothes for a week, because they probably have.

I know I probably looked worse in college, or probably lokk worse now, what with the stress and worry of having a baby. I probably look like some sort of insane alcoholic, although it's been like 14 years since I last had a drop of alcohol, noit that I miss it, praise God! Even though my Korean students in Cebu tried to get me to drink. They had this alcohol that had real flakes of gold in it, that was supposed to be good for your health, but still that didn't get me to toucvh it, despit emy curiousity. At most I just touched it to my lips and pretended to drink it. That's how it is when you come from an alcoholic family- you are terrified of becoming the monster you lived with. I can't do that to anyone- myself, my friends, and especially not my wife and my soon to be born daughter. Drinking is so much a part of Korean culture. Even in a small town where I was on Jeju Island. At night you could see well dresed businessmen staggering down the sidewalks, puking their guts out after too much soju. It's part of doing business, a team building exercise- you all go out and get pissed together and barf togetherr in the bathroom, and somehow that is upose dto make you feel closer and love each othe r and get along. In my experience, that is counterproductive- it does the opposite, and brings out all the hidden feelings and jrealousys and things are said and fights break out and you alllhate each other. But hey, if it works for them, fine, just leave me out of it. I stayed at home watching videos and trying all the different varietys o kim chi I could find- (hmmm- kim is one of the most common family names in Korea, Chi is Chinese for life. So does that mean-? Probaly not. Gim using the same symboll is alsoi used to describe the dried seaweeed wrapper used for the Korean version of sushi- Gim Bap. Bap is not something yopu do to somebody in a drunken fight after a busineess meeting. It is KJorean for rice)

Still, despite spending a year in beautiful Jeju Island, one of the most beautiful places on earth in ESL Hell, I like and admire Koreans. They are tough, because they have to be. It's all about the group, being strong, sticking togeyther and working together for the common good. The bad is it's also very much about keeping up with the Joneses.Plus they think nothing of cutting in front of thre checkout line and pushing you bck, and you just want to clober the idiot, but if you do they'll probably gang up on you and put you in the hospital, becase he is someones cousin or somehow connected to everyone else in the store, either by school, job, family, or whatevr. Plus,the Hagwon owners make it a hobby to cheat their foreign teachers. It almost seems like they have a unsung competition going to see who could do it the best.

I mad it through Korea. It was one of the hardest years in my life. Spiritually though it was worth it. Emotionally, it ewas exhausting.

Then came CHina, orking at the orphanage, which was one of the highlights of my life. So the good balnced out the bad in the grand cosmic scale oif things. (WHat the hell is "orking at the orphaage" mean? It means I need typing lessons. Unlike my brother who can tyupoe as fast as he thingks, I twiddle along like a lost bird in a windstorm. My thoughts are so far ahead of my typing it's amazing I can capture any of them.

That's it for now. I will try to write something more normal tomorrow.

Happy Blogging to All!

Practice the Zen of just doing, not thinking in your Art. Carol Fox Prescott taught me that in her acting classes.
It does work.
Just do. don't think.
You'd be amazed at the results.
That's what I amm doing now.

For Richer or Poorer, Better or Worse

2007-07-30T16:25:00.000+08:00

Trien is worried about getting fat. She keeps talking about going on a diet. This first started last week, when she was trying on a maternity dress at a store. She needed a new one because her other maternity clothes don't fit her anymore. In the dressing room was something we don't have at home, a full length mirror. While trying on a dress, she saw her naked Mommy tummy for the first time in months.

I stuck my head through the curtain to see what was the matter.

"Honey! Look at me! Look at how big I am! I didn't know my tummy was that big! I'm HUGE!""
"It's OK Baby, I still Love you anyway. Anyway, you're just going to get bigger."
"I know! But look at me , Honey. I never thought I would look like this!"

That was when all the talk about going on a diet started.

I told her that she can't go on a diet until after the baby is born. While she is pregnant, she can eat all she wants. Not that she can eat a lot right now. She has to eat small meals, because there is not enough room to accommodate a large meal. If she eats too much, then it causes her pain, and she lets me know it. Sometimes a good fart will make her feel better. Other times nothing will help.

It's not like she is gorging every day. The only time she really eats more than what is comfortable is on Sunday, when she gets together with the other Filipina wives, and there is all sorts of good Filipino food to eat. Other than that, she keeps to a good diet of mostly veggies, fruit, and mostly chicken or fish. Oh yeah, sometimes she'll have a burger from Mickey D's, or I'll get a pizza from pizza hut, but other than that or the occasional muffin from the Ipoh Bakery downtown, it's good healthy food. You can't even consider her fondness for snacking on peanuts a nutritional detriment.

Yet she still wants to go on a diet. I point out to her that there is nothing wrong with eating good healthy food like she is doing. It is good for our baby. Going on a diet can hurt the baby and her development.

We were at the new market, buying fruit. Trien's favorite fruit is bananas. She eats more bananas than anyone else on the planet.

She only wanted to buy half a bunch. When I asked why, she said it was too much, that she would eat them all.

"Why? What's wrong with that? There aren't that many of them. Banana's are good for you. They will help your tummy trouble, and give you good nutrition."

So we bought them. Then later, she started to complain that she was eating too many bananas.
When I asked what was wrong with that, she said that Bruce, who you saw with his fiancee Dixie in a previous post about their motorcycle trip through Leyte, told her that body builders eat bananas so that they get big arms. He said he wanted Dixie to eat bananas because she was too skinny, and he wanted her to have bigger arms.

"Baby, he was only joking. Body builders have big arms because they work at it. They eat bananas for the potassium. Eating bananas without working out is not going to give you big arms."

"But look at my arms!" she said. "Look how big they are!"

"So? they didn't get that way because you are eating too many bananas. Besides I still love you anyway, big arms, big tummy, anything."

After that, I started to find out what was behind her always talking about dieting. One reason, of course, was simple vanity. OK, every woman has a share of vanity. We all do, to a certain extent. It just depends on how highly developed it is.

There was a deeper reason, that disturb me, and hurt me.

She is afraid that if she is a "fat mommy", that I won't find her attractive anymore. That I won't love her anymore. That I will find someone else.

I know where this is coming from.This is exactly what her father did. She thinks I will do what she saw her father do.

"I am not your father."

I have to say this to her now and then when she gets insecure or worried about how I might act or react.

"When I married you, I married you for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, skinny or fat. I love you, and you putting on weight is not going to change that. You are going to give birth to our daughter. What greater gift can a woman give a man? I love you for that. A little extra weight is not going to change the way I feel about you, or make me look for someone else."

Despite my efforts to reassure her, I know Trien is still a bit insecure. It's only natural, I guess, buy it also hurts me, because she doesn't realize or understand how much I love her. My whole world has changed because of her. She has given me new life, and given new depth and meaning to my life. She has brought something new out of my heart. She has made me feel things tat I thought I could never feel again, things that I had thought had been seared out of me in hot flashes of pain throughout my life.

How could I not Love her?

What hurts me is that she doesn't realize the depth of my Love for her, and she still feels insecure about it. I still have to prove myself to her, even after showing her one night in Cebu that I was willing to die to protect her.

That means that during this time, I'll have to Love her even more, and take special care of her.

She is the special woman in my life. I wouldn't want anything to change that. As far as I am concerned nothing will. Especially nothing as insignificant and external as a little added weight.
Especially since the reason for it is giving birth too our child.

My Love for her goes deeper than that.

Hopefully, one day she will realize that.

Pregnancy Report- Week 35

2007-07-28T15:58:00.000+08:00

It's going to be soon. How soon, we don't know. During her latest checkup at Taiping General Hospital, the doctor told Trien, "Come back in two weeks. If you feel labor pains before then, then go right to the delivery room, don't come to the clinic." Maybe I am reading too much into it, but it seems to say to me that he thinks that she might deliver before the next appointment. Trien and I both think that she isn't going to last until the August 30th due date. We both feel that the August 12th date estimated by Saras, the nurse who goes to our church, is more on target.

I feel like Christmas is right around the corner, but I'm not sure when it's going to come. It's like being a little kid again, when days and dates had no meaning. Like when you would ask your parents when your birthday was, or you were going on vacation, or something like that, and they would answer, "5 days", and you had no idea what that meant.

I already told my students that if I get a phone call, and run out of class without saying goodbye, the baby is coming and I'm going.

The baby is getting more active. As she does, Trien gets slower. We walked into town yesterday. Normally, it would take us about 15 minutes. yesterday it took us 45 minutes. My wife is a trouper, though, she kept going and didn't complain.

Soon. Real soon.
I can't wait.

The Latest on Has

2007-07-26T17:35:00.000+08:00

This is Has Hariff, walking with some
of the other students from class 1U.

I wrote before on Has Hariff, the Orang Asli student who came to study here at SERATAS. There is a follow up article on her in the Sunday Malaysian Star. I won't say anything about some of things written in the article, because:

1. I still work here.

2. I don't want to get involved in politics in the workplace.

3. But mostly because The principal thinks I am a spy for the ministry of education, and has been trying to get rid of me. I am not under her authority, and - well I better stop there. Suffice it to say that you could write volumes about her, and how she is destroying the school.

Let's just put it this way- one week into the school year, the students told me they think she is demon possessed.

The teachers here don't think it- they know it. They are just too frightened to say anything about it. It's nice to have friends in high places and use that to intimidate everyone and break their will.

So I will just write about Has.

I teach her twice a week in my 1U class. She is very quiet and soft spoken. It is hard to get her to speak at anything above a whisper. I have trouble hearing her even when I lean close to her in the best of circumstances.

She does have a nice smile, and gets along well with the other girls that sit near her. She seems to be friendly with the girls, and has little to do with the boys, which is normal for her age. Today in class we did a question and answer game where you had to tell the truth, and the kids were asking each other questions about who their boyfriend or girlfriend is, who they love, etc. They asked Has which boy she liked in class, and she shrugged. From her expression, you could tell she didn't like the question, and most likely, didn't like any of the boys either!

If she doesn't understand something in class, she is quick to turn to one of the girls next to her and ask a question. A few times after I have asked her a question, she has told the girls nearest to her the answer and had them speak for her, because she is so quiet and shy. But she does seem to be getting a bit more confident and outgoing, though. She is serious about her studies, and always takes notes in her notebook whenever I write on the board.

As for sleeping on a soft bed, well, we have a couple of the old mattresses from the hostels that were lent to us, and they are just plain old foam rubber stuffed in a fabric cover. I sleep on one of them on the floor when my back is hurting, and it helps. Not exactly the lap of luxury, but I guess to her they probably seem that way, after what she is used to.

So she does seem to be doing well, despite the rigid draconian class schedule and workload the students here have to put up with. If anyone can make it through this academic concentration camp, I think she is one who has to will and drive to do it.

Experimental Lake Gardens Pictures

2007-07-25T17:08:00.001+08:00

The top picture was taken while Trien and I were walking to the hawker stalls to get some dinner. It was taken just as the sun was setting. The other three were taken while we were walking back home. It was dark. She had to stop to rest.

While we were sitting there talking, I started fooling around with the camera. I kept the aperture wide open, and the shutter open for a long time. The result is the last four pictures. They were taken when it was pitch black.

I liked the results, so I figured, "Why not share?"

I hope you enjoy them.

Trien Then and Now

2007-07-25T09:49:00.000+08:00

This is probably my favorite picture of Trien. It was taken on the beach in Phuket, about a week or so after our second pregnancy misfire. We went there during a school holiday, just to get away, and start the healing process.

I love her smile. Trien is very pretty when she smiles. She has one of those endearing smiles that make you feel good when you see it. When she smiles it's like she is sharing the purest essence of herself with you. It was good to get on the beach in Phuket and see this smile, after what we had been through in the previous months. It was good to smile myself.

I had to capture that smile, just the way it is, so when she wasn't ready, I took this picture. She gave me an, "Oh, Honey, what did you do that for?", after I took it. After she saw the picture, she liked it too.

This next picture is the latest picture I have of her. This is her most recent "Mommy Pic". We are not on the beach in Phuket, but walking to the Circus Ground hawker stalls for our usual Saturday roti canai breakfast. We were passing by the apartment building where all the dobi shops are located on the ground floor when I took this shot. You can see one of the dobi's hanging out the laundry in the background.

Again, I got another, "Oh Honey", response when I took this. She wanted me to delete this picture when she saw it.

The reason?

"I look sooo fat! Look at my face!"

Yes, she has changed physically, but her smile is still the same.

Still, I Love her more now than ever before. The physical changes that she worries so much about- they don't matter to me. Sure, it's harder to hug her and be affectionate, but that means I just have to be more creative when I do so.

While she looks in the mirror and sees the added weight, the pimples, the dark spots, and all the tiny things that don't bother me, all I see is the beauty of the woman I Love, about to have our child.

That, and the smile I Love so much.

Sure, her smile has changed, because she has changed, and I'm not talking physically. As our relationship has matured and grown, so has her smile. It has taken on a deeper meaning to me, and worked it's way deeper into my Soul.

Her smile will always be a a part of me., and has given me something missing before. It has revitalized me, and brought me alive in a new way.

Now that we are going to be parents, I can't wait to see what our daughter's smile.

I hope she has her mother's smile.

Then I will be doubly blessed!

Our Baby's Name

2007-07-23T15:19:00.000+08:00

Well, we have finally decided on what to name the baby. Our baby's name will be:

Melody Angelica

We were eating dinner the other night, and Trien said, "Honey, I want to name our baby Melody Angelica. I like that name."

I know my wife doesn't make flash decisions on things of importance. This is something she had to have been thinking about it for a while. So I said Ok, Melody Angelica was fine with me. After all, I was the one who came up with the name in the first place.

For some reason, Trien felt that she had to explain herself. She said:

"I like Melody, because it reminds me of a Love song. You hear it, and you remember the music, and it affects you, though you might not remember the words. It touches something inside you, though you might not know why."

"I also like Angelica, because she is our little Angel, a gift from God after two previous failed pregnancies."

So I told Trien that Melody Angelica is what we will name the baby, unless one of us has an "AHA!!!" moment. You know what I mean, where you have that flash of insight, and you know everything is perfect, and it all fits in with the flow of the universe. To be honest, even though I was the one who came up with the name, I still wasn't totally sold on it. I was still waiting to go "AHA!!!", and tell my wife what I felt God and his universe ordained, and have her go "AHA!!!" too.

Today I was sitting in the canteen, having lunch by myself. It was raining. From where I sat, I could see the tree covered hills, the clouds, listen to the sound of the rain, and smell the cleansing it brings.

Usually I bring the New Straits Times with me, and do the Sudoku. Today the deliveryman was late because of the rain, so I ate my lunch alone with my thoughts. Then the thought came to me gently, floating like a leaf on a breeze- Melody Angelica. It twisted and turned around delicately, and made it's way through the corners of my mind. Then finally it settled down in the peaceful place that said:

"What does the name mean? What does it really mean?"

That's when the insight came. Before, I was looking at the name as two separate names, when I should have been looking at it as a whole. The names weren't separate, distinctive parts, randomly stuck together. They were a reality unto themselves, not to be pried apart and separated.

Melody Angelica- The Song of the Angels. The Angelic Melody. The Song of Praise that the Angels sing before God. That is to be our daughter's name. How could we name her anything more beautiful than that?

That was my "AHA!!!" moment. It wasn't a violent "AHA!!!" that grabbed me and sunk in tightly to my soul, and wouldn't let me go. Instead, it was a sweet peaceful glow. I Knew. All was right with the world, and with my Soul.

I basked in that for a few minutes.

After that, it was time for my last period class. My class had to walk over to the engineering building to use the Cybercafe to start their Blogs. I was walking along behind some of the girls from the class, and they were talking in Malay. They didn't realize I was there at first, and when they did, they asked if I understood what they were saying. I gave my standard answer, which is:

"I've been here almost three years, what do you think?"

They said if my wife knew what they were saying, she might get mad. I laughed. After all, they are only 14 years old, and are at that age where they are curious about relationships, and things like that.

So they started asking me about my wife, how many months pregnant she is, when the baby is due, things like that.

Then they asked the question I had been asking myself before:

"What are you going to name your baby?"

"Melody Angelica. It means 'The Song of the Angels'."

I had another gentle "AHA!!!" moment as soon as I said it. Things seemed even more right than they did before. Our little girl- her Soul sung into existence by the Angels.

The girls think that the name is just soooo very beautiful.

So do I.

Our little song of Praise to God, Melody Angelica.

Life goes on, and all is well with the world.

Bruce and Dixie's Leyte Adventure

2007-07-22T21:52:00.000+08:00

Bruce and Dixie are friends of ours. Bruce is an American guy from Indiana that I met while I was working in Manila. He wants me to help him open up a school on our favorite Island. Dixie is a local girl from Cebu. She is about 4 foot 10 at best, and Bruce is 6 foot 2 or better. Despite the differences in their heights, they are planning to get married sometime soon.

They took a motorcycle trip to Leyte. Bruce e-mailed me some pictures. I am feeling lazy, so I am going to post them here, instead of writing something else. I don't know what is happening in most of them, because he didn't tell me. But Trien and I are very familiar with these types of scenes, having experienced very similar things ourselves. I just don't know where I put the pictures, so I'll use Bruce and Dixie's instead!

Taiping Rain

2007-07-22T20:11:00.000+08:00

It is raining out, as it only can in the tropics. I have very rarely seen the equal to it anywhere else in the world. When it rains here, it often comes down with the ferocity of penned up hungry wild animal finally set free.

It has been like this for a while. I would like to go home, but I don't have an umbrella, the streets are flooded, and Trien and I are both wearing sandals. It might seem romantic to walk home holding hands and dancing together at night in a warm tropical rain, but it's not a good idea when your loved one is 8 1/2 months pregnant.

I do like to watch the rain. It is peaceful and cleansing, not just in the local environment, but in my Soul. There is something relaxing about a steady downpour, like being on the beach listening to the waves. There is music in the rain here- the sound it makes when it is hitting the asphalt, the sound it makes when it hits through the trees, the sound it makes on a tin roof, the way it sounds when it is approaching. When it pours like it does here, there is something awesome about it.

The only thing better than a good rain is a good thunderstorm.

But I want to go home now. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

Instant Blog Post Generator

2007-07-20T21:13:00.000+08:00

Yeah, I admit, I don't feel like blogging right now. Tonight was our "date night", so Trien and I took a taxi to downtown Taiping, and had dinner at a new All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet place across from the Panorama Hotel. It was pretty good, RM 8.60 (about $2.50) each person, drinks, soup, salad, and dessert all included.

Then she was going to visit her friend Vanessa at her nail shop around the corner, but she wsn't in. So we went to the Internet Cafe, so she could check her e-mail, and I could goof around.

She just finished chatting on Yahoo! Messenger with one of her friends from the Philippines who married another guy from Jersey. The difference is that they are living in Jersey. She was showing me the pictures of their new baby. Between that, she was trying to beat one of her secondary schoolmates high score on the "Fruit Drop" game they have on their class website. Despite her amazing and almost supernatural mastery of the Fruit Drop game, she was unable to beat her arch nemesis's high score. When we go home, I will make it a point to comfort her.

Anyway, I had written somethings down that I wanted to Blog about, but then, as usual, I left the paper at home. Right now I don't feel like think too much. I did a Google search for "instant blog entry", and this is what I came up with. So Instead of writing anything else, I am going to let the bots do the work for me. So here goes:

I kinda love my cousin Cathy. Often she is very dumb, then yesterday she just shocked me... I begged her support reading a book about education among Japanese schoolgirls, and then she was like:

"Dude! I am so sick of hearing about Japanese schoolgirls all the time!"

At first I began yelling "DUDE!" and then just now I just suddenly got this dangerous look in my eyes. After all, she *is* my cousin and she should know better...

Link of the day: Am I Blue or Not? | Randomly generated by Flooble Instant Blog Post Generator

I absolutely love my father Leroy. There are days when he is quite cool, then a couple of days ago he just touched me... I begged his guidance talking to someone about ethics among Japanese schoolgirls, then he screamed:

"Wow! Don't tell me you're into Japanese schoolgirls too!"

At first I was like "WOW!" and just now I just subsided and began sobbing. After all, he *is* my father and I need to make this work...

Link of the day: All Your Oil... | Randomly generated by Flooble Instant Blog Post Generator

Ok, I know these randomly generated posts make it look like I am obsessed with Japanese schoolgirls. I am not. It seems like the Bots are, though.

Tomorrow is another day....

Pregnancy Report- Week 34

2007-07-19T16:26:00.000+08:00

Trien has definitely slowed down the past couple of weeks. Not that I can blame her- it's tough being pregnant. It's hard for her to get to sleep, to move around, and get comfortable. It's getting hard for her just to do the normal everyday things. It's not going to get any better, either. Just think- only 4 to 6 more weeks of this to go!

The baby has been very active. Her movements have been getting sharper and more painful. Last night the baby kicked her, and Trien let out a yelp. She complains that with all the movement and kicks, she is getting sore inside. That means that neither Mommy or Baby is comfortable right now, because space is getting tight for both of them.

Trien went to Taiping Hospital on Tuesday, for her glucose tolerance test, and checkup. That meant fasting after midnight, and not eating until after she was finished about 11 or so. Not eating like that is something difficult for a pregnant Mommy to do. She made it through OK, but obviously, it had an effect on her. When I got home, there was a full load of food in the refrigerator, and the shelf was pretty well stocked too.

They did a full ultrasound scan, looking for any abnormalities. Since she went on Tuesday this time, there were a lot less patients, and the technician took his time and talked to her. The good news is that everything looks Ok. Praise God for that! We spent some time going over the technicians report, and trying to make out his writing. The only thing that concerned me was that it said, "gastric bubble seen". We weren't sure what that meant. Did it mean the baby had gas? Was she going to cut a big nasty fart in Mommy's tummy? Would that make Trien's tummy even bigger? Did it mean Trien had gas? I looked it up on the net, and that wasn't much help. As far as I can tell, it means that our daughter has a stomach.

The good news is that if our daughter is born now, she would be healthy, and have no problems associated with premature birth. It's still a bit early, though, and the longer she waits, the better it will be. Even though Mommy and I are getting a bit impatient, for different reasons, we would prefer she waits at least another couple of weeks before being born. (Ok, maybe I should speak for myself).

So far, so good. Thank God for that. After two failed previous pregnancies, this one is going as it should.

Just a little while longer, and we will be dealing with a whole other paradigm!

Ok, I am ready for it.

I think.

AAAAUUUUUUUGHHHH!!!

My Dad

2007-07-18T15:51:00.001+08:00

Yeah, It's time for me to write something about my Dad. I called him up the other day, and had a nice long talk with him. He didn't sound too bad, in reality he sounded alot better than he had for a while. There was some kind of white noise coming from the background, which I thought that had to do with our connection. That's to be expected when you are calling to the USA from a mobile phone in Malaysia. There was something about the way he was talking that was a bit odd. He would talk in bunches of words with a short pause in between before he would start talking again. Then I found out why- he was on oxygen. It had to be helping, as he sounded clearer and a bit more energatic than last time we talked.

Still, I am worried about him. He's 82 years old now. The last couple of years have been rough for him. He has overcome prostrate cancer, had a heart attack, and now is suffering from congestive heart failure. I think he knows that he is nearing the end of the line, but he won't tell you that.

My sister said it really affected him when his sister died a couple of years ago. She had some stomach discomfort, and went to the doctor to get it checked. The doctor found that she was in an advanced stage of stomach cancer. They didn't even think it was worth it to give her chemotherapy. They gave her three months to live. She made it halfway through before she died.

After her death, something in his voice changed, although you never would have known from his words that he was worried or hurt or uneasy. It's not in my Dad's nature to be that way. It's not the way he was raised. To him, a man is supposed to be strong, able to handle everything and to withstand everything, be self reliant, and not be emotional in the process. That can't be an easy way of life, but it is the way he's been since I've known him as my Dad. Sure, sometimes cracks show in that facade, but for the most part there could be a tornado bearing down upon him, and you would even know it. He'd probably would tell me that he had to hang up, because there was a storm coming up and he had to close his car windows.

When our relationship wasn't so good, I used to refer to him as "Big Chief Stoneface." Most of the time his face was a mask. A couple times I said a couple things just to get a reaction, and nothing happened. He just kept driving, seeming to pay more attention to the road than to what I was saying. That made me think he didn't care. What I didn't realize was that he was profoundly deaf, and part of the reason that he didn't react when I spoke to him face to face was that he couldn't hear me. Once he finally decided to give in, and get hearing aids, then things were a bit different. Maybe not much, but at least then I could tell he was listening.

I fell out of contact with him for a number of years. How many, I am not sure. After I left the USA in 2002, my sister e-mailed me he had heart problems. I called him up from Barcelona, and we talked. It felt good to talk to him, too. He said that it was the first time we had spoken in about five years. It wasn't that I was mad at him during those five years. It was that I was dealing with some things of my own, including my own health problems. It was more like I had just forgotten about him. Believe me, it wasn't out of anger, as it was previously.

Since then, I have made sure to keep in contact, at least semi-regularly. It's anice little break from life to talk to my Dad 10,000 miles away.

I can tell from his voice that he really gets a kick out of talking to me. He always makes a point of telling me he loves me before we say goodbye. You know what? I love that. It's cute, coming from the father formerly known as "Great Chief Stoneface". As for me, I always tell him I love him too. It really feels good to be able to say that truthfully to my Dad, from my heart.

God has brought real healing to our relationship. It's too bad that we are so far apart physically. Emotionally, we've never been closer.

Pregnancy Report- Week 33

2007-07-15T18:54:00.000+08:00

Trien has had some pain this week. It has been under her ribs, on the right side. There is something like a little bubble there. I can feel it when I rub my hand over her tummy. It feels like a hernia, or something else that shouldn't be there. Naturally, I was concerned.

She asked me to massage it, and when I did, she gave a little yelp of pain, and asked me to rub lighter. Not that I was doing a Chuck Norris on it in the first place.

I asked her if she wanted to go to the doctor. She said she was OK, and would be all right. In the mean time, I was privileged to see the complete range of every pained expression she could manage. All the while she kept insisting she was all right, but that did little to calm my anxiety.

Finally she said she wanted to try a remedy that the local Filipinas recommended to her, one that they had used during their pregnancies- some Chinese "black oil".

The next day we went to one of the Chinese pharmacies located throughout Taiping. The older woman behind the counter was a bit taken aback to see a westerner, and what she took to be a Malay woman, entering her establishment and asking for a Chinese remedy. Nonetheless, she was friendly, and curious, of course. Why would we be walking in there asking for something only Chinese knew about?

So we told her the story- we live here, she's a Filipina, we met in the Philippines, our friends recommended the remedy, etc. Anyway, we got the "black oil" home, and Trien used it right away. It seems to be an all natural herbal remedy, different herbs dissolved in an alcohol base. It makes Trien smell like a spice store, but in a good way. For me, it is a strangely comforting smell. I like it, but I can't tell you why.

It didn't work right away, but it does work! The pain is mostly gone. She farted really loudly a couple of times, quite unlike the lady that she is, and that really helped. Relief comes before propriety in any case. I know that from experience, too.

So now Trien uses this black oil stuff 6 or 7 times a day. Hey, if it works, what do I care? Let me try some of that stuff, too!

The label on the bottle makes it sound like this stuff will cure whatever ails ya. Seems like they claim it cures everything from flatulence to minor pains to headaches to skin diseases to anything short of cancer. If that's true, then I should get a gallon of this stuff, and just rub it all over my body.

Or better yet, have Trien do it for me!

My Dad

2007-07-14T22:31:00.000+08:00

The news from sister is not good. My Dad is not well. His congestive heart failure is getting worse. He's a fighter. He's over come prostate cancer, a heart attack, congestive heart failure, but it seems now like the end is getting near. Being here in Malaysia, there is little I can do other than to call him up and try to cheer him up, and tell him I love him. With Trien now 33+ weeks pregnant, and my job, flying out there isn't an option right now.

You know, I wish I could fly out there and see him one last time. That I could give him a big hug, look him straight in the eyes, and with all honesty tell him I love him. Then spend some time with him, and listen to him, and be with him. That's something I've very rarely, if ever done with him. Really, truly be there, in the moment with him, and I regret it. At least the healing is there, and now I have the desire to be there with him. It hasn't always been that way. Through most of my adult life, I couldn't have cared less.

Not that I didn't have reason to feel that way.

Right now it's late, and the Internet cafe is closing down. There's a lot more I have to say, and I don't have the time to say it. So I will have to continue tomorrow. I look forward to it. It will good for my Soul to get it out.

Ahhhh Face or OOOhhhh Face

2007-07-13T17:50:00.000+08:00

Sex sells. That much is for certain- it is one of the main tenets of advertising. On this site they have screen captures taken of people's expressions from porn movies, and from regular everyday tv commercials. You have to see if you can tell which is which. It is an interesting, (and safe for work exercise. See if you can tell the difference between tv ads and porn.

I'm Back

2007-07-13T12:33:00.000+08:00

I've been out the past week feeling sick. Otherwise, I'd be updating my blog almost daily. My head is pounding, I have enough mucus in me to drown a mule, I feel high, (probably from the medication), and I can't concentrate on anything. And to top it off, I am going to teach class today, and try to catch up on planning lessons and working on the class blogs for form 2. Yup, it should be a really interesting day.

To top it off, I got an e-mail from my sister, saying that my Dad is dying. It really doesn't look good. Then I realize, I missed his birthday (July 12). That makes me feel even better. There's no question that I will call him up later, wish him a happy belated birthday, and see how he's doing. The only question is whether I tell my wife about it, because she'll get upset, and that's not something she needs right now.

That's because physically she's not doing good, because she is now 33 weeks pregnant and feeling it. There is pain in her ribs where the baby kicks her. She has trouble breathing. She can't sleep because she can't get comfortable. Her tummy is the size of a large watermelon. She has to eat little snacks almost constantly. She has to pee about twenty times a day.

Oh, and after school is over, she wants to walk into town, and send some money to the Philippines for her sister's college expenses.

I'm just wondering what the rest of the day is going to be like.

Or even worse, what will the weekend bring?

I think I just want to crawl into bed for the weekend, and turn into a vegetable.

In other words, life goes on . . .

Sick

2007-07-08T18:30:00.000+08:00

I am not feeling so good today. I have a cold, sinus infection, whatever you want to call it. It comes from the haze that has settled in over Taiping from our highly educated, and wonderfully considerate Indonesian neighbors burning the jungle to make room for more palm oil plantations, and burning the garbage from the ones already there, in Sumatra and Riau.

Even worse, it also comes from the their Malaysian counterparts, who think because it is dry, and there is a haze, it is the perfect time to burn their garbage. We're not talking just newspapers, cardboard, and harmless flammable stuff like that. Nope, it's whatever they have at hand- plastics, styrofoam, synthetic fabrics- anything that will burn that will make toxic noxious fumes. They don't care if it wafts in all through your place and makes you nauseous- Why should they? They are at least smart enough to burn it so it doesn't blow into their house, so why should they care?

It's as if a neighbor you didn't know came in uninvited and took a dump in your house, and spread it all around with his foot, then tipped his hat, smiled at you, and left. There's no difference at all. The thing is, for Malaysians, this seems to be perfectly acceptable behavior.

You look out from our balcony, and at any time there were at least two or three open burnings going on just in our neighborhood, sometimes as many as six or more. Opening burning like this was banned in New Jersey for environmental reasons in the early 1970's.

I guess that means that Malaysia is oooooh, only about thirty five years behind the times.
And Indonesia- well, they are back in the Stone Age!

So if I don't Blog for a couple of days, it's because I am locked in at home recuperating.

-END of RANT-

Pregnancy Report- Week 32

2007-07-07T21:12:00.000+08:00

Wahooo! We've made it through another milestone on the road to parenthood. We've passed the eight month mark. Only a month or so to go!

Last night the baby was making my wife's tummy do these rhythmical movements, in metronome perfect time. We were wondering what she was doing. Then I realized what was going on- she had the hiccups! Sure enough, that had to be what was going on, and Trien and I looked at each other and smiled. It was cute. At least I thought it was cute, but Trien didn't think so, at least after she had thought about it.

"Do you feel good when you have the hiccups?" She gave me a mischievously curious look.
"No."
"How do you think our daughter feels then?!"
"Yeah, I see your point. But still, it is sooooo adorable!"
Then we both couldn't help but laugh.
She kept it up for a couple of minutes.

Then she started moving around, moving her whole body. We figured that she was asleep, and the hiccups must have woken her up. Or do you hiccup when you are asleep? Anyway, she seemed to be moving around in protest. All I could do was rub my wife's tummy, and go:
"AAAAAAWWWWWW".
I just can't wait until our daughter is born. Then when she hiccups, Daddy can pick her up, hold her, rub her tummy, and go, "AWWWWW."

There's a Reason . . .

2007-07-06T14:24:00.000+08:00

I haven't been blogging as much as usual, or as much as I'd like to. Basically, it's because the IT system, and the Internet connection at the school is pure crap. That's putting it as nicely as I can. It is so antiquated, it's not even funny.

We haven't had any Internet connection for two weeks. It was puzzling. According to Najib, the IT guy, everything was pinging OK, but you could only get Google, or sites in Malaysia. There seemed to be a problem with the servers in Putrajaya. It was really puzzling. You could connect to the servers at the Ministry of Education that all the SBP schools run through normally, but you couldn't do anything after that.

Today Najib replaced one of the cables, and now the Internet connection is back. The two events may or may not be related. Maybe it is just the right phase of the moon. I don't know.

All of this means I haven't been able to start my 2S class blogging yet, and haven't been able to start podcasting with my 2k class yet.

I also found out today that the Ministry, in its infinite wisdom, blocks out any site having to do with podcasting. It comes under the heading of "streaming media". On Monday, I will talk to somebody and see if we can get podcasting off the Ministry's blacklist, since it is a great educational tool. I'm not going to hold my breath though. More than likely, what I'll have to do is record the students voices, save the files, then go to the Internet Cafe and upload them to a podcasting site. As stands right now, I'll have to go there anyway, just to sign up for an account at Podomatic.com or some other site.

Why should things be any different? I have to do most of any Internet connected teaching work at the Internet Cafe anyway, at my own expense. At least they have a good, reliable connection. It takes me five minutes to upload something that would take me two hours here, if the connection to the server at the site doesn't time out first. No kidding, I am not exaggerating.

It's very frustrating. You see all this rhetoric in the papers, and hear all this talk on radio and TV about using the Intenet and latest technology to teach, and blah blah blah, but in practice, this is what you get. Basically, trying to teach twentieth century lessons with 18th century materials.

I better stop before someone high up reads this and they throw me in jail for sedition. The government here is really hypersensitive about even the smallest bit of criticism.

-End of Rant-

AUUUUUUGGGHHHH!

2007-07-05T20:16:00.000+08:00

Ok, I just had a major tragedy in my teaching life.

I am such a klutz. My wife knows it. I am constantly bumping into things, dropping things, and inadvertently destroying things. I go through life like the proverbial bull in a china shop. A lot of times it is really embarrassing, and believe me, I don't do these things on purpose. One time my brother said that I should seriously consider a career as a torture tester, putting new products through their paces to see how well built they are. If they can survive me, they can survive anything.

In a way, I can't help it. When I was four years old, I had an accident. I was hit by a boy riding a ten speed bike without any brakes. He was going downhill in front of my house. He smashed into me head on at full speed, and knocked me unconscious. When I came to, I was lying in the middle of the road, choking on exhaust fumes, and there was a searingly hot object barely an inch from my face. It was a red car, driving over me, very slowly and very carefully. Let me ask you this: If you saw a four year old boy lying unconscious in the road, would you stop to help, or would you drive over the top of him? I thought so.

So I got up, puked, and went home. The force of the impact was such that when I hit the ground, it pushed the little pebbles from our neighbors driveway into my knees, like buckshot. My Mom's reaction? She put me in the tub to soak, and gave me a butter knife to pick the stones out of my knees. Then she went off and did whatever it was she was doing, and waited for my father to get home. When he did, he thought it might be a good idea to take me to the doctor, since my right arm was paralyzed. Years later, people wondered why I always wore long pants during the summer. It's because when I wore shorts, my legs would tan, and the "buckshot" scars became clearly visible.

A couple weeks after the accident, my parents took me to a doctor, to have him look at my arm. His verdict? The nerves would repair themselves, and I would regain use, but, "Don't expect him to become a concert pianist." I remember that, because a couple weeks after taking me to the doctor, my My Dad left home for the first time. Not that it was his fault, he was the victim in that situation. He wasn't there for my fifth birthday. My right arm remained paralyzed for six months or so, then the movement started coming back.

Now, I have about 80% use of my right arm, and about 65%-70% use of my right hand. I am right handed, and it gets very frustrating when it seem like my right hand has a mind of its own, or simply won't obey me. It's like having two left hands.

As a boy, I used to get straight A's for all my marks. All my marks, that is, except for penmanship. That I used to get a 'D' in. Try as I might, I could only come up with some barely readable scrawl, especially since my hand could never come close to keeping up with my brain. Up until the fifth grade, I had to use one of those thick kindergarten pencils with clay around it to make it wider and easier to handle, to do my assignments. Even then, I still had problems. My mother's second husband would sometimes look at my homework, and rip it up because it wasn't neat enough. Then, I would have to sit there like a medieval monk illuminating a manuscript, and take hours to recopy it, but even then the results were just passable. If he was in a cruel mood, or just drunker than usual, sometimes he would rip that up, too.

The after effects of the paralysis wasn't the only problem. A direct effect of the accident was I had grand mal seizures. The parts of my brain dealing with speech, and movement and coordination were damaged. The grand mal seizures stopped when I was eight. The other effects linger on.

I am still very self conscious about how I sound when I speak. Basically, after the accident I could still speak, but I had to relearn how to speak properly, and to change the way I spoke. I had sort of a slur to my speech, making me sound a bit drunk. That meant I was constantly being teased, imitated, and made fun of when I spoke, so I didn't speak. At least I didn't speak much, because kids said I sounded retarded. It took nine years of speech therapy in school, usually twice a week, sometimes more, before I was able to make all the phonetic sounds properly. Still, the general tone of my voice is not pleasing, at least not to me. That comes from years of having to listen to it's ugly sound on a tape recorder, and thinking the other kids were right.

Later on, my acting teachers all agreed my voice was a weakness. Yet in some ways, it was an advantage. One advantage of all that speech therapy is that I speak in a standard English accent, like a radio or TV announcer. Unlike others in my acting classes, I didn't have to get rid of an accent. Also, I became very good at doing accents, like a male Meryl Streep, because I had an ear trained for pronunciation, and had already learned how to alter my way of speaking.

Also, Like Mel Tillis, who stuttered when he spoke, it seems that when I sing, I have a very nice and pleasing voice.

It is because of the damage to the area of the brain dealing with movement and coordination that I am so clumsy. Despite that,I have been able to do things that my Mom always said I never would be able to do, like drive a stick shift, and so many other things, that I forget what they are. I just don't see how a doctor can look at you when you are 4 or 8, and say this is the way your life is going to be. Well. I proved them all wrong. I can play sports, and though I might not be the smoothest and most graceful guy around, I am very quick, and fast.

And strong. My body is unbalanced. My left side is a lot stronger than my right side. You can see that when I lift weights.

When I taught in Korea, I used to lift weights for 2 hours a day, 6 days a week. My right side always lagged behind. My left was very strong. The Gym owner suggested physical therapy. I tried all my life to develop my right side, doing extra exercise, but to no avail. If my right side was as strong as my left, I'd be a monster. Maybe that's why the accident happened- to keep me humble.

Well, the other day, because of my clumsiness, I destroyed my portable hard drive, the one I bought with Mr. Wong at the PIKOM PC Fair in Penang. The one that had four months worth of work stored on it, along with the all the recent pictures from my digital camera, music I downloaded for the baby, lots of other songs, and a bunch of neat stuff. All gone in a moment, because I am clumsy, and careless.

I had the hard drive plugged into the back usb port of one of the computers at school. I was fooling around with the Audacity software, because I want to use it to start podcasting with my 2K class. I wanted to get a couple of songs of the hard drive to play around with and see what the software could do, before I show my class how to use it.

The hard drive was sitting on top of the desk.

I yanked the computer forward to plug in the cheap microphone I was going to use to record my voice, when by doing so WHAMMO!!! the hard drive smashed to the floor.

RIP. All that work down the drain. I want to cry. Like I said, I am such a klutz. Stuff like this always happens to me.

Chief Minister Takes Umbrage At Bat Virus Name

2007-07-03T21:43:00.000+08:00

Geez, Malaysian officials can be extremely hypersensitive! Scientists named the virus after the state of Melaka because it was first found there, and the Chief Minister goes haywire! Doesn't he have more important matters to deal with? And to top it off, it was a team of Malaysian and Australian scientists that named it! Doesn't he think this makes the country look just a little bit ridiculous?

Russian Fisherman Catch Squeaking Alien and Eat It

2007-07-03T18:25:00.000+08:00

I kid you not. This article comes from no less of a source than the English version of Pravda, which means "truth". Some village residents from the Rostov region caught this strange squeaking looking thing, and must have been really hungry. For one thing, it weighed over 100 kilos. Also, it is so bizarrely ugly that eating it is the last thing I would consider. However, one of the hungry fishermen said that it was the most delicious dish he had ever eaten. Anyone for ET barbecued on a spit? How about ALF in
bechamel sauce? Some filet of Klingon?

That's a picture of the "alien". If you want to see the cellphone video of what it looked like before they ate it, then click the link. I got the link to it from the Pravda page, however, be forewarned, there are some pretty risque things on the page. The kinds of things you don't want to have to explain to any young children.

And you thought it was only the Cantonese who ate anything that walks, crawls, or flies. Well, think again. The Russians are now one up on them!

Pregnancy Report- Week 31

2007-06-30T21:47:00.000+08:00

It looks like we've come up with a sure way to cure Trien's sleeping problems. It's very simple. When she wants to sleep, I climb in bed and hug her. It's amazing how well it works. Maybe it's because it makes her feel loved and safe, I don't know. I'll have to ask her about that later. This afternoon, I lay on our bed and hugged her, and in five minutes she was fast asleep. So it looks like before I can go to sleep on my mattress on the floor, I'll have to embrace her on the bed. That way she can sleep, and I'll be able to also.

This week her sleeping problems got so bad that she got one of the cheap hard plastic chairs from the our dining table, put it at the desk in our bedroom, and tried to sleep like one of my students. It was because it felt hard to breathe when she was lying down. Sleeping at the desk was more uncomfortable than lying down, but a little application of some "hug medicine" once she crawled back into bed worked wonders.

Our baby has been very active. There is all sorts of bumping and rippling going on in my wife's tummy. At one point, it looked like her tummy was being pulled inward! Both of us said the same thing:
"Huh?! What is the baby doing???"
We figured that the baby must be playing with umbilical cord, and pulling on it, just for fun. When we jokingly asked her what she was doing, she stopped.

It seems that even in the womb, our daughter is able to communicate her needs. When my wife is hungry, the baby is hungry, too. Sometimes Trien will try to wait before eating, because she is tired and doesn't want to get up. If she waits too long, though, our daughter will let her know it is feeding time, by kicking her. It's always in the same spot. She seems to be learning, even inside the womb, because once she starts kicking in that spot, Mommy has no choice but to get up and eat. Once she does, the kicking stops, and Mommy can have some peace. So our daughter knows when she wants to eat, she kicks Mommy in the right spot, and she gets fed.

Then again, that is a typical woman. They always know how to get what they want!

Hi Baby!

2007-06-30T21:20:00.001+08:00

I know you are reading my Blog now, my sweet wife, so I just wanted to say
I Love You!!!

Your John

Been Unable to Blog the Last Couple of Days . . .

2007-06-29T18:25:00.000+08:00

This album is powered by BubbleShare - Add to my blog

. . . and not by choice. The Internet connection at school is screwed up again. According to those in the know, they (whoever they are) have been trying to upgrade the school to a new high speed line. In doing so, they messed things up somehow. For the past two or three days we have either had no connection, or we can only connect to websites in Malaysia. That really helps when you are trying to teach English, and the only websites you can connect to are in Bahasa Melayu.

Lucky for me, despite the problems, my 2K students have been able to log into the Classblogmeister website, and work on their Blogs.

Things have been going great with the blogging project I have been doing with them, a lot better than I ever expected.

The students really enjoy blogging. When it is time for class, half of them, usually the boys, are waiting for me outside the computer lab, and the other half are waiting all the way at the other end of the school, outside the classroom, for me to wave them over. I admit that at first there was a little bit of fooling around- playing games on the computer that students from other classes had saved, checking e-mail, playing music, etc. Now, I do allow them to play music while they do their assignments, as long as they keep it low. At the end of class if there is a funny video someone else has saved on one of the computers, then I let them to watch it. But as things have gone on, there has been little of that going on.

Now, when class starts, they run in, and log into their accounts. The first thing they usually do is see if anyone has left any comments on their Blogs. They get excited when someone from a different country reads what they wrote and leaves a comment. They also enjoy leaving comments on each others work. Of course, for security sake, everything has to go through me first. That's why Classblogmeister is such a great tool. The teacher can have complete control over what gets published on the students blogs, and can even make comment to the students if something isn't appropriate, or if someone from the outside does something they shouldn't do. Believe me, the administration here would have it no other way.

Some of the students enjoy what we are doing so much, that they have started blogging outside of class. Other than doing homework assignments, or in class, reading and writing in English is something that they would not normally do. It is also something they don't really like to do. Yet with blogging, it's something they love to do and get excited about.

My 2K class obviously has been talking with the other form 2 students about what they do in the computer lab, and now the other classes are asking me when they can start blogging. I am working on getting the 2S class started, and hopefully adding 2U and 2Z later on.

The problems are:
1. Getting enough computer time.
2.Scheduling time for the class.
3. The spotty at best Internet connection.
4. A stone age era IT system.

Plus there is the fact that the computer class has plenty of computers, and is not used very often, but only four out of the thirty something computers have an Internet connection. So while I could probably get the time that I needed there, it is useless for what I need.

Oh well, I gotta go. The wife is waiting to eat.

The Horniest Birds in Malaysia

2007-06-26T15:36:00.000+08:00

There are some real horny birds here in Taiping. As a matter of fact, we have some of the horniest birds in Malaysia living here. How do I know? they hang out right next to our apartment. They are really stunning looking, and amazing to watch in action. They might not be everybody's cup of tea, but I love them. I can't help but run to the window or balcony to watch them when they hang out here, as they often do.

I have all the proof I need right here. Look at these pictures! These birds are showing how horny they really are. Need I say more?

I know that some of you came here, thinking that I am going to tell you the best place to get to get laid in Malaysia. The jokes on you. I am happily married, and to me - Ok, I'll stop there before my wife reads this and won't speak to me anymore.

With all the keywords I have in this posting, I should be getting plenty of page views. The more people that read my Blog, the happier I am, and I'll do almost anything to get them here!

;-D

Macaques in the Garbage

2007-06-25T17:12:00.000+08:00

You've heard of "Gorillas in the Mist"? Today I bring you the Malaysian version, "Macaques in the Garbage".

I have been busy today, teaching five classes, and setting up a new Blog for my 2S class, since the work my 2K class is doing is going so well. That means I don't have any time for a new posting today, so instead, here are some pictures of a couple of Macaques, doing what they are fond of doing at our school. Namely, raiding the garbage cans for food scraps.

I found out, from no less an authority than the National Geographic Channel, that in Macaque society it's the females that rule. The females stay with the maternal group their whole life. When a male gets to a certain age, it is kicked out of the group, and has to fend for himself. That means you have a lot of juvenile male monkeys roaming around looking for trouble, and finding it.

They can be pretty bold, like these guys, who didn't even blink when I approached them. They were having too much of a good time throwing garbage around to even care. Plus there were some really yummy semi-rancid sugary snack scraps that would give them the sugar rush they needed. There was even enough that they didn't have to fight over them. Just pull up a can, dump it all over the floor, throw the trash around, and dig in!

Even though I consider myself an environmentalist, I will save you any of the anthropomorphic tree hugging Dian Fossey kind of stuff.

I don't have time!

Incontinent Vikings

2007-06-24T18:05:00.000+08:00

incontinent (adjective) Lacking normal voluntary control of excretory functions.

Yesterday I wrote that " . . I run around tooting like an incontinent Viking". While I was taking a shower, I thought:

"That's a pretty neat simile. How cool would it be if someone came to my Blog after doing a search for 'incontinent Vikings'?"

Then I wondered what a Google search for incontinent Vikings would look like. What kind of results would you get? Would there be an incontinent Viking home page? An incontinent Vikings Blog? An incontinent Viking fan club? An incontinent Vikings support group? Mothers of Incontinent Vikings? How about An incontinent Vikings Anonymous? Would my Blog entry be at the top of the list? Then and there I decided I had to know. Any time I do any sort of search on Google, I usually end up with a billion or more results, even for some of the most arcane and unlikely searches. I figured that there must be, oh, maybe a hundred million or more results for what I was looking for.

So the first thing I did when I got to the internet cafe today was to do the search, and see what I came up with. Unfortunately, the results are disappointing. Even though Google came up with 21,600 hits, none of them are really relevant, or what I was hoping for. Even worse, none of them reference my Blog!

I got a little frustrated that there wasn't anything more interesting, that there wasn't a clan of Incontinent Vikings running around in Warcraft, or mucking about and causing all sorts of havoc in Secondlife. If I had the time, an Internet connection, and the ability to mess around with these things, I might just start the "Clan of the Incontinent Viking". I mean, really, what is wrong with people nowadays?

The only interesting result was this rather odd Wikipedia entry on"The Saga of Bjorn".

The most interesting results came when, after becoming morbidly depressed after seeing such dismal results, I did a search for "Viking sh**" on Google images, and came up with 37,500 results, considerably more than my first search. That at least lead me to this interesting article, which has a picture of some real Viking sh**.

It seems that there is a museum in England that has some fossilized Viking feces as one of its major exhibits. I kid you not. You don't believe me, look at the picture. It seems like it got broken, and now they have to glue it back together. Again, I kid you not.

Oh sure, there are plenty of scatological references to the Minnesota Vikings football team. Oh Well! I got to go. The wife is hungry, correction- she says very hungry, and needs to eat NOW!

Thst means I have to leave this article as it is, as a rough first draft. If I had more time, I would rework it, make it funier, change things around, delete other things, etc. I guess I'll just have to leave it, mistakes and all, and go feed my Babies- the big baby, and the little baby!

Pregnancy Report Week 30- Addendum

2007-06-23T20:04:00.000+08:00

Trien doesn't like to go for her checkup before her scheduled appointment. The other day, she made some of her locally famous barbecue pork, and barbecued some fish. She ate a bit too much, and kept complaining about the pain, and couldn't get to sleep. That meant I couldn't sleep until I saw her sleeping, which made for another late night/early morning combo. By now, I am getting used to that. Besides, it makes good practice for when the baby is born. Then I am sure I will end up walking into work looking like a sleepwalking junkie. Still, I can't help myself, because my wife looks so cute when she's snoring and drooling all over her pillow.

For the past few days Trien has been complaining about pain in the upper left hand part of her abdomen, below her rib cage. She said sometimes the pain was sharp, and it hurt when she twisted. I thought maybe the baby was poking her with her toes. It was bothering her enough last night that she said she wanted to go to the doctor today (Saturday), three days early.

Saturday is not a good day to go to the doctor, and today proved it. People seemed to be coming in from everywhere, and we had to wait over an hour to see the doctor. I know, for those of you dealing with socialized medicine, or with the US health care system, that may seem like a dream to you. But this is a private clinic in Malaysia, and we aren't used to waiting more than a half hour.

There were even a couple of people who came in after us, that got to see the doctor before us. That was ok, as it was getting awfully close to quitting time. In that case, I rather be the last ones, because then the doctor will be more relaxed, and not in a hurry to get us out the door. (This is Malaysia, remember that.) Besides, Dr. Jeya and her nurse always enjoy our visits, because we (or usually me, playing the anxious father to be) are always good for a few laughs.

We didn't disappoint them in this respect today. I had them busting out in laughter a couple times. The sleep deprived, nervous, overprotective Daddy came out with a couple of howlers. They caused Dr. Jeya to say, "Pregnancy is usually harder on the fathers than the mothers".

As for Trien's pain, Dr. Jeya asked her a few questions, like where is the pain, is it shooting, etc., checked her out on the sonogram, and came up with a diagnosis: gas. Again I am losing sleep over gas pains. I think maybe Trien and I should compare who has more gas, and have a winner take all farting contest. The prize will be a lifetime supply of Alka-Seltzer. No question about it, I will win going away. I fart more than her anyway. Or maybe she's just trying to be lady-like, and hide it, while I go tooting around like an incontinent Viking.

The solution for Trien's pain? Ginger tea, my favorite home remedy for gas.

As for the baby, she is bigger than we thought, about two kilos. Everything looks good. She is still upside down, with her face turned to mommy's spine. And she is still a girl, which is great news. We've only bought girls clothes, mostly in pink, and only thought of girls names for our baby. I would hate now to have a son, and have to name him Angelica, or Melody, and dress him in pink for the first six months of his life. If that were to happen, we're talking major gender role confusion, psychological damage, and him appearing on Oprah in twenty years to tell his story.

Trien has gained 3 kilos since her last visit, but it seems to be all baby weight. It looks like she is right, that she will gain about twenty kilos. Right now she weighs in at an astounding 63 kilos (138.6 pounds), 13 kilos (28.6 pounds) heavier than when she started.

So all is well. No need to panic.

Someone please pass me the Valium!

Instructables

2007-06-22T12:37:00.000+08:00

I don't remember how I found this site, but it is pretty cool. Instructables tells you how to make all sorts of things, with full instructions and pictures.

Some are kind of strange- like "How to Make Meat Shorts for Dick Chaney". Some are kind of obvious, or really simple, like "Boobs in a Box", which is both. Some are just plain cool, like making an "Electromagnetic Floater", or "LED Throwies". Others make you think, "Now why didn't I ever think of that", like the "Invisible Book Shelf". (See pic).

It's a cool site to browse around. I've gotten a few ideas that I want to try out. My poor wife is going to be wondering what the hell I'm doing. That's ok, I'm sure she'd be happy when we have a finished "Home-made Sun Jar" in our house!

For Craziness Sake

2007-06-22T07:47:00.000+08:00

I like to chase the cats that hang around our apartment complex. Before I didn't know why. I just knew that I didn't much like those cats, and that I like to run around like a crazy man and make them scatter.

The other day, Trien and I were walking to the hawker stalls by the Lake Gardens. She had bundled up the garbage, and I was carrying two heavy bundles of newspapers to the dumpster where the cats like to lounge around. Of course, as soon as I saw them, I immediately went into attack mode. I became the Terminator for cats- site targets, evaluate situation, plan course of action, and YEEEEEHAH!!!

I didn't care what other people thought. I was having fun.

Of course my wife just kept on walking. When I caught up with her, she asked me:

"Honey, why do you always chase those cats around?"

I told her the truth:

"For craziness sake."

That made perfect sense to her, but when I said it, I didn't know what it meant. Then I thought about it.

Why do I chase the cats around? Because they are there. And because I like to do it.

If I tried to do anything like that when I was a kid, at best I would end up getting screamed at and berated for being a rotten kid, and told to behave myself. At worst, I would almost literally get the crap beaten out of me. That's why I do it now- because I can, and there's no one to tell me not to. No one except for my wife, who tolerates my behavior, and understands it, because she has her own craziness too. The only thing is, I am the only one who know it.

Everyone else looks at her and thinks she is this nice, normal, proper woman. Even her family and closest friends don't know how crazy she really is. I am the only one who knows any different. They wouldn't believe me if I told them the truth. You know what? It makes me very happy that she's that way with me. It means she is open and comfortable with me in a way that she isn't even with her closest friends and family. It means we are more intimate with each other than we ever have been with anyone else before. I can be my crazy self, and she tolerates it, loves and accepts me, and I do the same with her.

I know she can't run around like I can because she is pregnant with our daughter, but I can't wait for the day when the two of us will be running around the complex chasing those stupid cats around. We'll probably have to wait until the baby can walk so she can join in too!

In the mean time, the cat chasing duty falls squarely on my shoulders. Now when those cats see me, their eyes get big, they get into their readiness crouch, and they look at me with the fear of god in their eyes.

Then we are at it again.

I have become the scourge of all things feline.

Pregnancy Report- Week 30

2007-06-21T15:17:00.000+08:00

There is a lot of growth going on, both with my wife and the baby. If my wife was big before, she is even bigger now. Our daughter definitely is going through a growth spurt. According to the pregnancy sites I surfed through, she is three pounds something now, and nearly 16 inches long. That's a lot bigger than what we saw on the ultrasound scans in the beginning, when she was no bigger than a pencil point.

Next Tuesday is our check up, and I can't wait to see the scans. As usual, I am trying to convince Trien to go to the doctor early, but as usual, she is having none of it. It looks like I'll just have to wait.

This time, instead of walking to the clinic, it looks like we'll have to call a taxi. Trien is no longer able to walk as far or as fast as she used to. Not that I can blame her. It's not easy walking around with a 3+ pound baby pushing your internal organs around and making you have to pee every 10 minutes. Because of the weight in the front of her abdomen, Trien has to walk with a slight backwards lean. I know it will get worse in the following weeks. Usually I try to walk behind her, because it seems to me that one misstep and she will tumble over backwards.

When we walk into town, on the way back we have to stop so she can rest on one of the benches by the Lake Gardens. Not that I mind, because at nice it is nice to cuddle together by the lake at night, and talk.

Sleeping is getting more and more difficult for her. There were a couple days this past week where she only had an hour or two worth of sleep by the time I was getting ready for work. Trien complains about having a near constant pain below her left rib cage. From the diagrams I've seen of the baby's position during this time, it looks like that could be caused by the baby's feet poking her in the ribs!

The second Trimester, things weren't too bad. Now, things are getting more and more difficult.

Boy, we men are lucky we don't get pregnant. If we did, then this world would get depopulated awfully quick!

One of the Worst Miscarriages of Justice Ever!!!

2007-06-20T15:57:00.000+08:00

Some miscarriages of justice are so mind boggling that you have to wonder what the people connected with the case are thinking. Such is the case of Genarlow Wilson.

He is in prison for ten years for having consensual oral sex with a fifteen year old girl when he was seventeen. All parties connected with the case agree that the girl initiated the act. She refused to press charges or testify against him. Even her mother agrees that it is a miscarriage of justice , and that charges never should have been filed. Yet for that he gets ten years in prison?

He's not a bad kid, either. He had a 3.2 grade point average, was homecoming king, and a very good athlete. He was being recruited by Ivy League colleges. He had never been in trouble with the law. It seemed like he had a very promising career ahead of him. On the day he was to take his SAT test, he was arrested.

So far he has spent over two years in prison. A judge ruled for his release, but the Georgia Attorney General filed an appeal, so he is still incarcerated.

If there is an case that cries out for action, it is this one.

If you want to do something, go to the link in the letter I copied and pasted below, and sign their petition. Then send the letter out to your family and friends, like I have done.

Let your voice be heard!



____________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Friend,

On Monday, a judge finally dismissed the sentence of Genarlow
Wilson--the honor roll student and homecoming king serving ten years
in prison for having consensual oral sex with a 15 year old when he was
17. Immediately after the ruling, Thurbert Baker, Georgia's Attorney
General
appealed it--leaving Wilson stuck in jail.

Baker's actions have not only robbed Wilson of his long overdue
freedom, they epitomize the insanity of a justice system that seems
hell-bent on criminalizing young Black men. The New York Times, former
President Jimmy Carter, the NAACP and thousands of others have called
for Wilson to be released. I've signed on with ColorofChange.org to
call on the Attorney General to withdraw his appeal now. Will you join
us?

http://www.colorofchange.org/genarlow/?id=1914-61884

At a New Year's Eve party in 2003, Genarlow Wilson had consensual oral
sex with another teen--she was 15 and he was 17. Under an old Georgia
law, he was convicted of aggravated child molestation, a charge
intended for adult sexual predators, and sentenced to a mandatory
minimum 10 years in prison. If Wilson had engaged in sexual
intercourse with the same girl, it would have been a misdemeanor under
an exemption for contact between minors. No one, from his teen
"victim" to the jurors at his trial, wanted Wilson to go to jail, but
at every turn the Georgia justice system and Georgia legislature
failed him--convicting him under an archaic Georgia law; passing a law
that could have freed him but not applying it retroactively; and then
blocking a second bill that would have allowed for Wilson's release.

It's hard to believe that race is not a factor in this case. According
to the NAACP, around the same time that Wilson was sentenced, a high
school teacher was convicted of having sex with a student. The white
female teacher was sentenced to just 90 days in the same Georgia
courthouse that sentenced Wilson to 10 years. While Wilson's
prosecutor claimed that he was "standing up for African-American
victims in this case," he hardly seems credible, since the "victim"
did not want to press charges and did not even testify for the
prosecution.

In his statement overturning Wilson's sentence on Monday, Superior
Court Judge Thomas Wilson said: "If any case fits into the definitive
limits of a miscarriage of justice, surely this case does." Why, then,
is Georgia's Black Attorney General trying to keep Wilson in jail?
Baker says he's compelled to appeal, but as Attorney General, it is
completely at his discretion. He's ignoring the outrage of nearly
everyone associated with the case, and thousands of Americans across
the country, by keeping this innocent young black man in jail.

Clearly, justice is not being served by Wilson's continued
incarceration.  Will you join us in telling Attorney General Baker to
withdraw his appeal and allow Genarlow Wilson to go home once and for
all?

http://www.colorofchange.org/genarlow/?id=2145-173495

Thanks.

My Best Customer Service Caller Ever - Henry W. Bloch

2007-06-19T16:28:00.000+08:00

I was talking with Phoebe about our customer service days, on Sunday. We both did some time as CSR's. That got me to reminiscing the next day. There are some calls you will always remember. Sometimes, it was because the caller was so rude, or conversely, because they were so nice.

That got me to thinking- who was the nicest caller I ever had?

The one that immediately came to mind was Henry W. Bloch, founder of the H&R Block Tax Consultant company. People might not know that before founding the company, he served as a navigator on a B-17 in the Eighth Air Force, flying 31 missions. He was decorated with the Air Medal, with three oak leaf clusters.

I was working for First Chicago Bank & Trust IBM Shareholder relations when I got his call. I immediately knew his voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. That's because the name of the company is spelled Block, and his family name is spelled Bloch. Anyway, I got his information, and verified it. Then I asked him what I could do for him. He wanted to verify the amount of IBM shares he had, what the dividend was, and what was the dividend paid out to him.

He had a huge amount of shares- in the hundreds of thousands in different accounts. You know what? The dividend payments were completely screwed up. At the time IBM stock was trading for $106 and change per share, and the dividend payment was around $1.20 per share for that quarter, so we are not talking about pocket change here. Instead of paying him a dividend of $1.20 or whatever it was, for some reason he was only paid a dividend of something like 46 cents per share.

If that was me, I would have been so angry I would have been crapping my pants. Not Mr. Bloch. His voice never changed tone, even after I told him that the company had screwed up his accounts, and owed him hundreds of thousands of dollars in dividend payments. He remained very calm, almost serene, cordial, and unfailingly polite throughout. A really nice, sweet man.

He asked me to see if I could get the errors on his accounts fixed, as if he were asking his son to correct a simple error in his math homework. Heck, with that great attitude, and the way he treated me, I would have gone and slaughtered the whole accounting department for him!

I put an urgent "rush- special attention needed" on this transaction. The next day I checked his accounts, and things were fixed, and new dividend checks were issued.

He called back a couple of days later and we spoke again. I double checked his accounts to make sure everything stayed fixed. He thanked me for all my work, and for a job well done.

Later on he wrote a letter to First Chicago, commending me for my efforts.

Let me tell you- for a customer service rep, callers don't come any better than Mr. Henry W. Bloch!

The Best the System Can Produce

2007-06-19T14:35:00.000+08:00

I was sitting in the library this past Friday, just unwinding at the end of the week. I couldn't use the Internet, as is usual around here, as the connection is sporadic at best, and slow when it does work. So I was just playing hearts and solitaire on the computer to waste time until the bell rang to go home.

The last period of the day, one of the English teachers came in to teach what was obviously an English for Science and Technology class for the upper forms. That was cool, because then I could sit in and observe, without making anyone nervous or being obtrusive. All I had to do was keep my ears open, keep my face to the computer, and keep playing solitaire, and all would be well.

I was amazed by what I observed. Even though it was supposed to be an English class, 80-90% of it was in Bahasa Malaysia, with the teacher being the worst offender. The only time he ever spoke in English was when he was reading from the test or homework the class was going over. Other than that, even simple explanations were given in BM. Students were allowed to ask questions and make comments in BM, and of course the teacher answered them back in BM. Teaching English almost totally in BM is as useful as teaching drafting to a blind man.

Granted, this teacher is young and relatively new. But he graduated from an SBP school, where supposedly the best students (at least bumiputras) in the country go. He went to a university, probably on scholarship, and got a degree in teaching English, or was somehow deemed suitable to teach English. Even worse, he gets hired and right off gets a job at an SBP school. This is the result? This is supposedly the best type of English teacher the education system can turn out? Something is seriously wrong somewhere.

That somewhere is the education system here. I could write a whole essay about it, but I won't. Why? Because I am living here now, my wife is pregnant, and I want to keep my job until my contract expires, so I can leave on good terms and get a good recommendation for a job elsewhere. Anything in the least bit critical I want to write will have to wait until I move out of the country.

The Sultan's Official Photographer

2007-06-18T14:17:00.000+08:00

I walked into the staff room today and checked the notice board. The Sultan of Perak, Sultan Azlan Shah, is going to visit our school for its 25th anniversary. Why? Because our school, Sekolah Menengah Sains Raja Tun Azlan Shah, (SERATAS) is named after him. When he is coming, nobody seems to know. Some time in July or August is the best answer I've gotten so far.

There is a list of duties that teachers have been assigned for his visit. Me? My duties will be as a photographer, along with Mr. Yusoff, the librarian. I guess that means I will be walking around with my little Canon A540 snapping off a bunch of pictures, and taking some grainy video, like I normally do at any event. In the meantime, Mr. Yusoff will be using the big fancy camera with all the bells and whistles, the one that I wish I could use! ;D

I only hope the Sultan doesn't come from July 2-5, when I will be at CfBT's National Conference in Malacca. While it would be nice to spend time with my colleagues, and catch up on things, it would be a shame to miss an opportunity to get some cool pictures, ones that I am not likely to get a chance to get ever again. It's not often you get a chance to photograph royalty up close and personal, especially not in Malaysia, where there are firmly entrenched hierarchies and protocols.

Not that I am star struck or anything like that. I just think that these would be great pictures to post on my Blog!

(Note: I have just been told that he will be here on the 18th of August. That will be right around the time my wife is expected to deliver. Stay tuned for further details!)

Our Class Blog

2007-06-16T21:31:00.000+08:00

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I enjoy blogging so much, that now I have my 2K class at SERATAS doing it, too. Click on the link, and you can see what they are up to. The more visitors we get, the better, because that encourages them to keep writing, and they can look on the clustermap, and see who around the world has been visiting.

I have been using classblogmeister.com, as it lets me retain control over what is put on their blogs. The administration here would not have it any other way. The site is pretty basic, with not a lot of bells and whistles, but it is good enough for what we want to do. What's also great is you get plenty of input and support, as there is a classblogmeister support community on Yahoo! Groups.

There is only minimal fooling around when we go to the computer room to work. They even wait for me outside their class, looking for me to give them the ok sign so they can run to the computer room and get started. I don't have to say anything. If a computer isn't working, or they can't sign on to the school system, which happens frequently, then I have to play IT guy, and fix the problem. I spend a lot more time doing that than doing any teaching or giving instructions. The students get really disappointed when that happens.

It hasn't been easy, having to deal with things such as week long Internet outages, an antiquated and cranky IT system, and overloaded servers at the Ministry of Education. Because of this, we are not as far along as I would have liked to have been. Right now, the students are working on writing a report on the Ulu Muda Forest Preserve. Once they finish that, I want to get started podcasting.

Since things have been going well with this class, I want to get my other form 2 classes started on blogging. That means going through the whole set up process three more times. At the end of the school year, I hope to do collaborative projects with other classes from around the world. I already have one class in Maryland, USA which is interested, and another in New Zealand. That means I need two more classes so that each class will have a sister class.

If there are any teachers out there who are interested, let me know, and we'll see what we can set up.

Pregnancy Report - Week 29

2007-06-16T20:32:00.001+08:00

These are Trien's latest "Mommy" pictures. I took them today at the Lake Gardens, while we were walking to the hawker stalls for our regular Saturday breakfast. It really doesn't do justice to how big her tummy is getting. Our baby is going through a growth spurt, because Trien's tummy is getting bigger by the day. When I leave for work in the morning it is big, and when I get back in the afternoon, it is even bigger. She is getting so big, that it is difficult for me to hug her face to face.

She gets very hungry. All of a sudden, she will just have to eat. She doesn't want to eat, as she is worried about becoming a "Fat Mommy", but she has no choice. Instead of eating three meals a day like before, she has to eat 4 or 5, with little snacks in between. Even though she is hungry, she can't gorge herself. That's because the baby takes up a lot of space, and has pushed her stomach and intestines aside. It doesn't leave a lot of space for food.

The baby lets her know when she is hungry, too. Trien feels hungry, and then the baby will start kicking around, to let her know she is hungry, too. After she eats, the baby will calm down, and go back to sleep.

As for sleeping, It is getting more and more difficult for her to get a steady sleep. She says that's because there is a big weight in her tummy, and it's hard to get it in the right position to get comfortable. It's also because she gets hungry in the middle of the night, the baby starts moving, and she has to get up and get a snack to calm her down. Or she has to get up and urinate a couple of times during the night.

She also has to urinate frequently, particularly when the baby is active. When we go out, it seems like every half hour or so she is running for the restroom. We are becoming quite expert at knowing where all the toilet facilities are in all the places we frequent in Taiping. I guess that knowledge will come in handy after the baby is born, and has to be changed!

What Will Our Baby Look Like?

2007-06-14T18:54:00.000+08:00

One recurring topic among our friends and acquaintances is, " What will the baby look like?" Of course, Trien and I think quite a lot about that ourselves. We often speculate about what combination of features our unborn daughter will have.

Our friends think that the baby will be beautiful, because of the mix of races. I think she will be beautiful, because she is our daughter.

One of the games we play is "I hope she has your..." where we pick out certain features from each other that we'd like the baby to have.

(This is the latest picture of me. I'm the one on the right. The guy on the left is the one I gave the award to as the best student in my Saturday English workshop at school)

The #1 feature on her wish list is my nose. Trien hates her nose, because she says it is flat and wide. Me? I love her nose, and think it's adorable. It's cute the way I can twiddle it and mush it around. She can't do the same thing with my nose, because it is longer, and has too much cartilage in it. She practically worships my nose, and says that it is the perfect nose.

#2 on her list is the shape of my face. Her major complaint about her looks, like most Asian women is: " My face is too round!" My response? "Why, do you want it to be square, rectangular, or shaped like a pyramid? Maybe a nice cone shape?" To which her reply is usually a boo-boo face, and a friendly shove in the shoulder.

(This is her getting ready for our Blessing Ceremony in her village of Buaya, Lapu-Lapu City, Province of Cebu)

#1 on my wish list is usually split between her mouth and her hair. Trien has these pretty, full, sensuous lips, and strong white shiny teeth. She's never had a cavity inn her life. What about Daddy?" As she would say, "Not so."

Her hair is dark black, and so fine that it is almost non-existent. When I pick up one of her fallen hairs, and stretch it out between my fingers to look at it, it is so thin that I can barely see it or feel it.

(This is her at 16, in her high school year book photo.)

Meanwhile, she says that it is Ok for the baby to have her hair, as long as it is my color. Actually, what she really hopes for is that the baby will have hair the color of my sister's twins, which is a copper colored. She was a bit disappointed when I told her that wasn't likely to happen, as red hair is a recessive trait, and wouldn't be expressed unless she also carried the gene for red hair. As that is extremely unlikely, she says that brown hair would be ok, too.

(This is my sister and her kids. Josh, in gray and Liz, are the twins).

She also wants the baby to have my ears. Trien has these cute little baby ears, that don't seem to have grown much since birth. I find her ears quite delightful, and very nice to nibble on. She likes my ears because they are larger, but not over sized, and would fit in with the shape of the face better.

(This is my brother with his wife and daughter. His wife is from Taiwan.)

Another thing that is important to her, but not so important to me, is skin color. Trien's skin is a nice honey brown color, while mine is fair, inherited from my mother's Northern European origins. I definitely don't want our baby to have my skin color, especially if we are going to be living in the tropics. Trien agrees with me, but at the same time doesn't want the baby to have her skin tone, either. She thinks it is too dark. So we both agree that the best skin color would be somewhere in between.

Skin color matters more to her than it does to me. Her father is very dark, like mahogany. His family, friends, and fellow residents of the village call him "the African". The reason he is so dark is that he spends a lot of time out in the sun, tending his fish traps, or the ducks he raises. One of the reasons he married Trien's mother was that she was lighter skinned, and their children would be, too.This is Trien's family. That's oldest brother Clifford (Manoy), Mama, Victoriano Jr. (Jun-Jun), Trien (Irien), Me, sister Emily (Em-Em), and Papa)

Trien likes to say that she is "pure Filipina." To me, that means pure blooded, no mixture with anything else. Well, obviously, that means something else to her, because I found out that there is Spanish blood on her father's side, and Chinese blood on her mother's side. That is why her mother, according to Trien, ". . . is lighter skinned, and has smaller eyes." It turns out some of her cousins on her mother's side, according to her, ". . . have Chinese names, and some of them look very Chinese." Hmmmmm . . . so then her mother is part Filichino?

On the other side of her family, her grandfather was part Spanish. How much, they don't know. She asks me If I remember that he had lighter skin. All I could remember was that he was very, very old, like Methuselah. They looked to be around the same age. The only thing I can't understand if her grandfather was so light skinned, why is his son so dark? Of course, I don't say anything about that to Trien, because then she might hit me with something.

(These are the wives with the kids. The woman on the left is Jun-Jun's fiancee, holding their daughter, Althea. Jun-Jun has his arm around his daughter, Crystal, from a previous relationship. Standing next to me is Manoy's wife, Abeline, with her arm around their daughter, Toni Anne, and holding their son, Tyrone. The three kids in front- the boy in the white and orange t-shirt, the little girl in pink, and the girl in white and yellow are her brother Richie's (Ongkoy) kids, Christian, Shaina, and Richel.)

As for my family, we are what is best termed as "melting pot Americans", or more commonly known as "Mutts". Just throw a bit of everything in there, stir it together, and let simmer. We have both sides of the American experience. My Dad's family was one of the first families in the country. My Mom's family is relatively recent immigrants.

My Grandfather's parents immigrated from Germany sometime in the 1880's during one of the great migrations, and settled in Manhattan. Their family name goes all the way back to the time of the Romans, being the name of a tribe in central Germany.

My Grandmother's family, they are, to put it nicely, a mess. The authorities in Europe probably couldn't wait for them to emigrate, and had the papers all signed and approved way beforehand.

According to my Grandmother, her family is 100% German, through and through.

Now here's where it gets good.

Her father was born in France, and had a Danish last name. He fought for Germany in World War One. Her mother was born in Denmark, with a German family name. My Grandmother and her sister were born in Germany. Yet when they emigrated to the USA, they were carrying Belgian passports! This was way before the time of the EU.

My Grandmother claimed that her father and mother were German, because Germany had temporary control over the areas that they were born in when they were born there. When one of my Filipino friends heard that, he said:
"I was born in the Philippines when it was under Japanese control. So does that mean I am Japanese?"

It was useless to try to argue the point with Grandma. As far as I know, my mother's family are still arguing over what they are. They are human, or at least I think so. I sometimes have my doubts, though. Sometimes I wonder not what country they came from, but what planet! Trien knows all about them, but she married me anyway. What a woman!

My Dad's family, as I said before, have been in the USA forever, coming sometime around Jamestown to Virginia. They are real salt of the earth types, almost total opposites of the lunatics and crazies in my Mom's family.

There is a lot of American Indian blood in their heritage, recently Cherokee, and probably some nearly extinct eastern woodland tribes. They mixed very well. According to my Dad's mother, our family is a mixture of:
English, Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Scotch-Irish, French, German, Spanish (if I remember it all correctly), and whatever Native American Tribes mixed in along the way, which apparently there were several.

So add that to my Mom's background of French, German, and Danish (there might be some Polish in there, too, but don't try telling them that, or it will lead to yet another war), and Trien's background of Filipino, Spanish, and Chinese, and I think we don't have to worry too much about any racially inherited genetic conditions.

CSR Blues

2007-06-12T16:58:00.000+08:00

When I was working as a customer service rep, it was way back in the stone age of green screens and Winblows 4.1. I liked the job. Sure, you got some real nasty arrogant blowhards sometimes, and other times it was a constant stream of calls, but for the most part it was a pretty fun job. It's something I wouldn't mind doing again.

I was thinking what it would be like if I were a CSR today. If I wanted to be one, more than likely I would have to move to India or the Philippines. Moving to the Philippines, that would be no problem. There are plenty of call centers in Cebu, the province where my wife comes from, or in Manila, where her brothers and their families live.

Then I was thinking, with all the fast computers and databases today, what would it be like to get a call from a lonely elderly person (LEP), and how would I handle it?

I could see myself taking orders for a retailer selling music, say, one with the biggest collection of music ever. You name it, they have it, and it is all indexed in their computer database.

Here's how I figure a call from a LEP today would go if I were working there.

Me: Hello, this is The Music Warehouse. John speaking. How may I help you?
LEP: Huh? What is this? The Music Whorehouse?
Me: No, sir, this is the Music Warehouse, your source for every type of music you can imagine. How may I help you?
LEP: Oh, that's different. For a minute there, I thought I had contacted a musical whorehouse.
Me: Well, sir, if that is what you are looking for . . .
LEP: No son, that's ok. I'm too old for that.
(Next comes a fifteen minute overview of his life.)
Me: Well, sir, are you looking for some music today?
LEP: Well, yes I am.
(That is a cue for an in depth analysis of his musical tastes, bands he's seen, and how music is different today from what it was years ago. That takes another ten minutes)
Me: Ok, so what specifically are you looking for?
LEP: Maybe some Jazz. I like Jazz. I remember when . . .
Me: Yes sir, we have a very extensive collection of Jazz. Anything specific you are looking for ?
LEP: Well, I always liked Eric Clapton.
Me: (by now I know it's suicidal to point out that Eric Clapton plays Rock and Roll, and Blues, instead of Jazz.)
I'm happy to tell you, Mr ______ that we have the full Eric Clapton catalogue available.
LEP: That's great news.
(Uh-oh! He's going to want me to read out everything on the list!)
I remember seeing him in concert when I was in England right after my second divorce from my first wife. Now she was . . .
(I will spare you what follows, and my desperate attempts to steer the conversation to the topic at hand. Let's just say it takes a while)
Me: (getting back from a desperately needed bathroom break)
Which album or song are you looking for?
LEP: What instrument does he play?
Me: (I turn off the mic so I can grumble to myself. Always make sure your mic is turned off if you are going to let off steam during a call)
He plays the guitar.
LEP: He just plays the guitar? Do you have any albums where he plays something other than the guitar?
Me: I can check for you. What kind of instrument were you thinking of?
LEP: Do you have anything where he plays the tuba?
Me: (Trying not to burst out laughing)
Just a moment, and I will check for you.
(The mic goes off again, and it takes a few minutes for me to stop laughing. In the meantime, he keeps asking if I am still there)
Uh, yes, we do have some selections with Eric Clapton playing the tuba.
LEP: (genuinely surprised) Really?
Me: No kidding. We have the largest selection of music available in the world.
LEP: Wow! That's really great! Things have really changed. I can remember-
(You can imagine what comes next)
Me: So can I place an order for you?
LEP: I'm not sure. I have to make sure it's the type of music I am looking for.
ME: Just what type of music are you looking for?
LEP: Well, it's a present for my granddaughter. She just graduated from college, and
(Uh-oh! There he goes again!)
Me: What type of music does she like?
LEP: Well, I think she's always liked that rapper guy, the one with the bald head who dressed like a thug? What's his name?
(Of course, he's just described at least 90% of rappers, living or dead)
Me: Is he a white rapper or a black rapper.
LEP: Black. He was killed.
(That narrows it down, but not by much)
Me: You don't know his name?
LEP: Toothpick something. Toothpick Champur or something like that.
Me: Tupac Shakur?
LEP: Yeah, I think that's it.
Me: So you want to buy her a cd by Tupac Shakur?
LEP: No. I want to buy her something by Eric Clapton.
Me: Ok, so which Eric Clapton selection would you like?
LEP: I don't know. Can you read the list to me?
(hardly likely)
Me: How about the one with Eric Clapton playing the tuba? That's got to be a collectors item, and it's bound to be worth a lot someday.
LEP: Well, I don't know. Say, do you have any albums where Eric Clapton plays the greatest hits of Tupac Shakur on the tuba?
Me: (Checking the list) Uhhh, yes I do, sir.
LEP: Ok. But is it polka music?
Me: Let me see if I have this right. You want an album where Eric Clapton plays polka versions of the greatest hits of Tupac Shakur on the tuba?
LEP: Yup. Do you have it?
Me: Yup.
(The line goes dead)
Do you want it? The computer says his version of "All Eyes on Me", was a number one hit in Albania in 1997.
LEP: I'm not sure.
(Must. Overcome. Urge. To Kill! Must. Overcome. Urge. To Kill!)
Me: WHY?
LEP: (mumbles something that sounds like:) I'll have to call you back. My neighbor is being abducted by aliens again.
(Hangs up)
(I go in the bathroom and scream my lungs out)

Uhhhh. Nevermind. I think it's easier to remain a teacher!

Vacation Time Ends - But Our Hug Research Continues

2007-06-10T18:20:00.000+08:00

Ok, it's back to school tomorrow. To be honest, I really dread going back to work. Why? Well, for all the normal reasons, of course. The biggest reason, though, is because I will have to spend part of the day away from my wife. Even though we didn't do anything because of the pregnancy, and never left Taiping, this has been one of the best vacations I have ever had. That's because Trien and I spent a lot of real quality time together.

In the mornings I didn't have to get up at 6:30 and get ready to drag myself to work. I could stay up late, and wake up whenever. That usually happened when Trien got up and climbed over me on the mattress on the floor. Sometimes it was to go to the toilet or to grab something to eat. The baby's demands on her body are getting greater, and she has no choice but to do what her body tells her to do.

Sometimes what her body told her to do was to lay down next to me, and hug me. I'll tell you, there's nothing like waking up in the morning in the arms of someone you love, seeing them smiling at you, and getting that first "good morning" kiss. Physical affection was not a part of our lives when we were growing up, and we are making up for it now.

Sometimes I would climb into the futon, and she would be sprawled all over. Then I would get into the best possible "hug position", and let her have it. One giant "Good Morning Hug", for her and the baby. Hey, she's pregnant, so for now they come as a package deal.

We always joke about writing a book together, "The Art of the Hug", sort of like "The Joy of Sex" for huggers. We have done lots of research for the project. Right now, we are nearing the end of researching the best hug positions for pregnancy. We have been very diligent, making sure that we have enough time to carry it out every day. Current, our research is centers on "Hug Positions for the Latter Stages of Pregnancy". Believe me, that is not as easy as it sounds. It's hard for her to get comfortable in some of our favorite hug positions now. So we are learning how to improvise new ones, in the limited ways she can get comfortable now. Yet even now, my wife will suddenly unleash a hug attack without the slightest provocation.

We have had so much practice, that we must rate among the top ten huggers in the world. Ok, let me clarify that. Let's make that the top 10 wedded huggers. All right, maybe the top ten wedded huggers in Asia.

You are definitely talking about two world class hug addicts here. If we don't get our fix, then she will walk around all day with a mean boo-boo face, and I will be like a caffeine deficient bear.

It's great to be married to someone where you don't have to do anything or go anywhere to enjoy yourselves and have a good time. Where it's good enough just to be with each other, and spend time together.

I tell Trien all the time- God must really love me to have given me you as my wife.

Adventures of a Customer Service Rep

2007-06-08T17:23:00.000+08:00

I used to work as a customer service rep to make a living when I was struggling to make it as an actor. In my case, I worked for the Equitable Life Insurance Company during the Demutualization process, and for First Chicago Trust in their IBM Stockholder relations department.

Most of the time, the calls were routine, simple questions that would only take a minute or two to handle. Then there were times when you would get a call from the most dreaded caller of all, The Lonely Elderly Person (LEP). When that happened, you would never get off the phone. Some would call every day, just to have someone to talk to.

A call from a LEP would start innocently enough. You confirmed their identity. After that, they always ask for the usual routine information- how much is in their account, what their dividend payment is, do you have my correct address, etc. Everything starts off normally, which catches you off guard.

The problem started after you gave out all the information you could possibly give out about their account. Their cue came after you asked them:

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. / Mrs. _______ ?"

Their answer was usually something along the line of, "why yes, maybe you can . . .", and then they'd make up some bit of business only slightly connected with the company you are working for. That usually lead to anything from a 20 minute to an hour conversation that had nothing to do with anything. If you're anything like me, who was raised to respect his elders, you were too polite to cut them off. If you are, then one word of advice: Don't tell them your real name.

Of course, you have to tell them your real name at the beginning of the conversation. Once they start getting into the conversation, though, they will forget it, and start calling you by what they think your name is. Many times that ends up being something completely different from what you told them, even a dead husband's, child's, or imaginary friends name. When mercifully you are able to end the conversation, they will invariably ask for your name again, so they can write it down, and ask for you again. The smart thing to do is to tell them your name is either what they've been calling you through most of the conversation, or if you feel creative, to make one up. That way, the next time they call and ask for you, no one will know who it is, and whoever gets the call will have to handle it.

I realized others were doing this one day when the sweet old lady on the line asked if Barry Beck was available. At the time, Barry Beck was a singularly ugly defenseman playing in the NHL. I doubt he had the time to take off from his job of flattening opposing players into pancakes against the boards at hockey rinks all over the USA and Canada to come over to my job and answer her call.

(This is Barry Beck at his full time job)

We had a lovely half hour conversation about her grandchildren, the end result being her offering to set me up on a blind date with her oldest granddaughter, who had just graduated college, and was also working somewhere in New York doing something. Not that I didn't appreciate the offer. I was going through a protracted dating dry spell at the time, and probably would have been satisfied with a blind date with grandma herself. Since our calls were monitored, I didn't want to possibly have to go into the bosses office and have to explain myself. So when she asked for my name, I told her I was David Crosby.

(This is David Crosby)

Now believe me, I am not trying to make fun of LEP's. In fact, I always felt sorry for them, and and tried to do the best I could for them. It's just that there was only so much I could do. I had a job to do, and a quota of calls to handle. One LEP could ruin my quota for the day.

Still, I enjoyed talking to them, especially if the day was slow. My favorite LEP was a retired Rabbi from Brooklyn. His advice to me:

Find a nice woman, get married, find a job you love, and Vote for Clinton!

Hmmmm . . . In retrospect, it looks like I followed his advice to the letter!

Pregnancy Report- Week 28

2007-06-07T18:31:00.001+08:00

Okay, we've made it to 7 months now, and passed another milestone on our journey to parenthood.

Trien's tummy is getting bigger every day. As it does, her sleeping problems get worse. Now I no longer sleep in bed with her, except if she asks me to join her, when she needs a hug to get to sleep. I sleep on the floor on one of the foam rubber mattresses we borrowed from the school. That way, Trien can twist, turn, and squirm to her hearts content, get into all kinds of strange positions and get to sleep without me interfering. It also helps me to sleep, not only because I am not getting whacked or pushed up against the wall, but because I have spondylosis. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor gives my back the support it needs, so this arrangement is good for both of us.

She is so used to having me sleep next to her, that she spends most of the night sleeping right on the edge of the futon with her arm dangling over the side. It is really sweet, and when I see that, I hold her hand and give it a kiss.

Our baby gets hungry, and lets my wife know by moving around, and making her uncomfortable. Mostly this happens early in the morning. When it does, Trien has no choice but to get up and get something to eat and drink. If she doesn't, then she feels like she is being attacked from the inside by a hyperactive kangaroo. Once she eats, everything is OK, and they both can get back to sleep.

According the pregnancy sites I surf that give weekly updates on how your baby develops, our baby's hearing has been fully developed for the last few weeks. The first real evidence of this was a few weeks ago, when she started moving to the music at church. Now she starts moving to music whenever we play it for her. When she does, my wife says it's not just her arms or legs, but her whole body, like she really enjoys it and is dancing.

Her favorite kind of music is classical. When she hears Bach, Beethoven, Mozart or the like, she becomes very active, and starts dancing, and Trien starts laughing. Her next favorite kind of music is Jazz. Pop and Rock and Roll comes in third. Trien and I both think that our daughter will grow up to be a dancer or a musician.

I try to play music for our baby as much as possible, as she is entering the part of development where her gray matter is growing, and the brain is making neural connections. If she enjoys the music, is stimulated by it, and moves to it, that can only help her mental and physical development. When she is born, what we play for her now will be familiar to her, and will help calm her when she is cranky or doesn't want to sleep.

So playing music now is a pre-emptive strike against future restless, sleepless nights. Invest some time now, and it will pay off later.

As the saying goes:

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure!"

Malaysia's Mind Numbingly Funny TV Advertisement

2007-06-05T19:18:00.000+08:00

Another site I've run into during my forays around cyberspace is veryfunnyads.com. It is run by the Turner Broadcasting System, so there must be a tv program tie in, something like, oh, say, and I'm guessing here- "The Worlds Funniest Ads"?

If there was an honesty policy for broadcasting, a tv show like that would have to be subtitled something like: "Someone Find Ted Some Vicodin", "Help! We Desperately Need Some Filler For This Time Slot", "Marshall McLuhan Never Would Have Thought It Would Ever Come To This", or something like that.

It's got to be the kind of tv show you watch when you need your mind numbed, and there's no heavy drugs or someone with a hammer to do it for you.

So if you have any interest in Malaysia, and you are in frantic need of a mind numbing experience, here is Malaysia's entry on veryfunnyads.

The Difference Between My Wife and a Typical American Wife

2007-06-04T19:12:00.000+08:00

(Scene: Late at night, the kitchen of a third floor walkup apartment. A wife is scraping a plate into an overloaded garbage can. In order to take out the trash, you have to go downstairs and walk about 75 yards to a dumpster past the entrance to the complex.)

Typical American Household:

Wife: (Screaming at her husband) Hey! Get off your butt and take the garbage out! How many times do I have to tell you that? I'm not your maid! I feel like a broken record already!

My House:

(Scene: The same, except located in Taiping, Malaysia. Trien peels a banana, and opens the garbage can to throw out the peel.)

My Wife: We forgot to take the trash out. We have to take it out tomorrow when we go to the market.

(The Next Morning)

Typical American Household

(Scene: The Kitchen. The garbage is still sitting there, because her husband has forgotten to take the garbage out of the can and bring it downstairs.)

Wife: What! It's still here!!!
(She lets out a bloodcurdling scream. She then takes an Uzi from the closet, and empties a clip into her husband. Later, at the trial, she claims mitigating circumstances. Because of her husbands constant forgetfulness in taking out the garbage, she claims mental anguish, cruel and unusual punishment, and spousal abuse, and gets off with a suspended sentence. She then makes millions from the book and film rights, and buys a house with a garbage disposal.)

My House:

(Scene: The next morning. There are two bags of garbage neatly tied and sitting outside the apartment door. I walk outside to put on my shoes, while my wife finishes getting ready.)

My Wife: Honey, please will you take one of the bags down to the dumpster? I'll take the other one.

Me: Don't worry baby, I got them both. You just take yourself downstairs.

My Wife: Thank you, Honey. I'll be right down.

(I walk outside, throw the bags in the trash, and wait for her. She walks to the dumpster, and throws in an old broken umbrella. We then hold hands, and walk to the market together. Later on I write a little humorous piece in my Blog about what a great wife Trien is.)

The End

Another Wondrous Day

2007-06-03T16:18:00.000+08:00

The other day was another wondrous day. It was of those small little triumphs of life that don't mean much to anyone else, eliciting nothing more than a polite, "That's nice", when you tell them about it. Yet if it happens to you, then your whole world changes, and your life perspective will never be the same.

Trien and I were lazing around on the futon. She was getting some rest, while I was watching tv.
She started laughing, and turned over and faced me. There was a bemused smile on her face.

"What's happening, Baby?"

"Our daughter is playing again."

She looked down at her tummy, and rubbed it softly in a circular motion.

"Here, let me feel."

She removed her hand, and I replaced it with mine. Nothing happened.

Trien looked down at her tummy, both puzzled, and amused.

"You move for Daddy, Baby," she said to her tummy.

Again, nothing happened, I looked at her, and she smirked at me and shrugged.

Then it happened. I felt a sharp little poke right under my hand. I had felt the baby move before, but this was different. Before when the baby moved, it just felt like the ripples made when you throw a pebble into the water. There was evidence of life, but nothing tangible. This time, for the first time, I felt something solid. There was contact between me, and the life living and growing in my wife's womb. Solid flesh and bone had moved under my hand, a little elbow or a hand. It made contact with me. It made contact not just with my hand, but also something deep within my inner being, the purest essence of what I am.

I looked up at Trien, and she smiled at me like a proud Angel.

"I felt her! I really felt her this time!"

"I know, Honey."

"You get to feel her all the time, but this is the first time I could really feel her move! I could feel her bones beneath my hand!"

I kissed her. My hand stayed there for a couple more minutes, but there was no more movement. I took it away, and kissed my wife, and looked into her eyes. By now my eyes were tearing over.

I thanked her, and held her, and felt more love for her than I ever had before.

There was a life inside her that we had made together. Sure, I had seen the ultrasound scans from the very beginning, watched her develop and grow, and felt the tiny little pulsations of life. This was the first time I actually felt the evidence of life in my physical being, and from my physical being to my soul.

The little life inside of her is living and growing and developing. With God's blessing, I will not leave this world without leaving a small piece of myself behind, a dream of hope for a better world. A dream that she will make a difference in this world, even if just in a small way. A dream for my daughter of a better life than I've ever known, in a better world.

I told Trien this morning that this is the most beautiful gift she could ever give me. Nothing could ever be greater than the gift of life which is growing inside of her now. What better way could she show her love for me, than to nurture the life within her, and give birth to our baby?

Like I said, when you tell other people about it, they respond politely, just the way they should. When it happens to you? There's nothing else in the world like it. It gives my life palpable meaning that it didn't have before. There is reason for my existence - a little life is depending on me.

There will be more of these little triumphs of life in the months to come. My life can never be the same as it was.

Praise God!

Beauty in Ordinary Places

2007-06-02T22:36:00.000+08:00

I like to carry my camera with me wherever I go. That's because I never know what kinds of interesting things I will run into, or what I will see that will suddenly strike me as beautiful. Sometimes those things are right outside my door.

Take, for example, these scenes that I have here. I have passed by these places many times, but they never really caught my eye until today, when all of a sudden something, maybe a trick of the light, made them take on a resonance I hadn't seen before. It is very easy to see the beauty so obviously displayed in the Lake Gardens, which are only a few meters away, hidden by trees and undergrowth. It is not so easy to see the beauty in scenes as commonplace as this. Some might see these as scenes of decay, not beauty. Yet even decay can be beautiful. To me, these pictures say something about the endurance of life.

The houses above are located right around the corner from our apartment. They belong to a couple of elderly Chinese people, who seem to have lived there forever. They are old, but still quite sturdy. Both the houses, and the people who live in them.

These seem to be old miners shacks. They are all still occupied, and not just by the elderly, either. They are either remnants from when Taiping was a rough and tumble mining town, or at the very least, from the British colonial days. They constitute a little hidden village, right next to the Lake Gardens and the downtown.

Some of them have been upgraded, with rooms added to the back, cable TV dishes, fairly recent coats of paint, etc.

.

Life goes on in Taiping, just as it always has, and just as it always will. Taiping changes and grows, but life stays the same.

Funny Pissed Off Humor

2007-06-02T21:06:00.000+08:00

I came across this site on one of my journeys through cyberspace. I seem to have a gift for finding wierd but interesting sites. This guys website has humor with an angry, pissed off attitude. Being from New Jersey, I thought it was pretty funny, but I know it will not be to everyones taste. Probably the only other people who will enjoy it will be fellow Jerseyites, those who are angry at the world, have sick senses of humor, or are heavily medicated. Which, of course, covers just about everyone in New Jersey.

This one entry really got me laughing.

The humor might not be right for you overly sensitive politically correct types. Here's an example of some of what you can expect:

I was searching for shitty telecom companies the other day and Qwest came up as the first result (the 2nd through 6th results linked to Verizon). So I clicked the top link and saw this:

"Finally," I thought to myself, "a site that sells chubby black women." Unfortunately, after hours of searching there were no black women to be found; only DSL and local phone service. Here are some other photos I found on corporate websites, and what I learned about the world based on the images:

So if you are feeling really pissed off today, have a look!

Pregnancy Progress- Week 27

2007-06-01T17:07:00.000+08:00

This is week 27 of our pregnancy. Yup, I am pregnant too, since what affects my wife affects me also. We are in this thing together, and will get through it together.

Trien's tummy seems to grow larger every day. There is no chance of disguising her condition now. I can't see how those teens who give birth in secret can hide it. It would take a lot of work and some pretty naive people not to see the signs, from what I can see. Still, it does happen all the time.

She has gotten so big that it is no longer comfortable for her to wear the black pregnancy pants we got for her in KL. These have an adjustable elastic waistband, and soft material around the top. The pants still fit her, but she complains that they don't feel right anymore. They hang too low on her tummy. The white ones we got at the same time are still Ok, because she says the waistband isn't as wide as the black pants, and so it is less uncomfortable. She decided that she wouldn't wear the black pants anymore, and would still wear the white ones. Then she said she would mostly wear the mommy dresses we bought, or that others have given us.

So what did she wear to meet me at the Internet cafe yesterday? Of course, the most uncomfortable looking athletic stretch pants that she has laying around! Now, I know there is a long convoluted explanation for that, which makes sense to her, but would have me scratching my head and just nodding my head when she asked if I understood. So I will just accept that the expensive comfortable looking baby pants are no longer practical, while the cheap uncomfortable looking pants are just fine, thank you. There is something contrary about my wife's ways that I've just come to accept. I just nod my head and say I understand.

As her tummy grows, so does her problems getting to sleep. She has trouble getting comfortable in bed because it is hard to find the right position to get comfortable in. It is like trying to sleep with a basketball strapped to your abdomen. She also says it is a bit difficult to breathe when she lays down at night. It is easier to breathe if she lays a bit upright. Another problem is that because of the baby's position, the distribution of weight in her tummy is uneven. If she lays on her right side, it feels like the whole baby has slid down there. If she sleeps on her left side, there is less weight, and she can get better support by using her "hug pillow" under her tummy.

Last night, she complained she wasn't comfortable. Even though we had the bed under the open window, and the ceiling fan on, she said she was hot. I know you will say, "Hey John, you guys are 4 degrees above the equator", but it does get fairly cool here at night, somewhere in the mid 70's. Sometimes we even close the windows because it's too cool. Anyway, we moved the bed away from the window, and next to the other window, closer to the ceiling fan. That still didn't work. We have a couple of old foam mattresses we borrowed from school to use on the bed at our old place. We put one of them on the floor by the bed, and within a couple of minutes she was fast asleep until morning.

The baby's movements are getting stronger and sharper as she gets bigger. It is easier to see and feel her movements. If Trien is asleep, she will sometimes wake up and tell the baby that mommy is trying to sleep. She doesn't wake all the way up most of the time. What will really wake her up is when the baby starts moving her elbows, or what we think is her elbows.

Our daughter is now moving her whole body, like she is doing baby Kung-Fu. She moves her arms, her head, and her legs, sometimes all at once. She likes to do this when we play music, especially if it is a bit loud.

Now Trien is starting to slow down. She can't walk as fast as she used to, or as far. Before it was no problem for her to walk into and all around town. Now, it is hard for her to walk back. She can still do it, it's just that it takes longer and she is more tired than before. Still, she is looking forward to going swimming with her friends at Bukit Merah Laketown Resort on Monday.

Finally, her cravings are back. She wants Inasal. I don't know where we can get a barbecued suckling pig prepared Visayan style here in Malaysia. I doubt anyone knows, or that there is such a thing. She wants her friends currently on vacation in the Philippines to bring some back. Good luck to that!

This is what Trien is craving for.

All together, so far so good. Only about three more months to go!

My 31st Post

2007-05-31T20:30:00.000+08:00

Ok, my goal this month was to average one post a day. I had something else I was going to post here, but Trien showed up at the Internet cafe, and is hungry. I know better than to keep a hungry pregnant mommy waiting too long, so this will have to be my 31st post instead. That way I will reach my goal, and Trien will be happy.

Cheers!

The Best Ice Cream in Taiping

2007-05-31T19:38:00.000+08:00

Continuing my tour of the culinary wonders of Taiping, today I look at the hawker stall that serves the best ice cream in Taiping. It is located in the same complex that I wrote about in my post about "The Best Roti in Taiping." If you take Bukit Larut as north, then it is located in the southwest corner of the complex, the second stall in from the road.

It was after drama practice. I was walking by the Lake Gardens, waiting for Trien, so we could eat dinner. That's when I saw Jesse, the guy from New Jersey who lives in Pokok Assam, which is just outside of town, talking to a western couple. He left before I could catch up with them, but eventually I caught up the couple.

When I taught in on Jeju Island in Korea, any time you saw a westerner, you talked to them, because there were so very few of them around. Its a habit I've gotten in to, and haven't been able to break. So I introduced myself to them. They were Australians, and had lived in Taiping for a few years before going back home. We chatted while I was waiting for my wife, who hasn't yet broken the habit of being fashionably late, (at least fashionably late for a Filipina, which varies considerably from what us Americans consider "fashionably late").

When she arrived, we chatted for a couple minutes before they had to leave. They asked where we were going, and we said we were going to the circus grounds hawker stalls to eat. They recommended the place pictured above saying it had the best ice cream in Taiping.

They were right. The place has great ice cream. There are crudely painted pictures on big plywood signboards of the creatively named ice cream dishes offered. The best thing to do is to see what interests you, and ask what is in it. The owner speaks excellent English, so don't worry about any communication problems. He can tell you exactly what is in each item. They all have ice cream, of course, then some variation of fruit and topping. When I say fruit, I mean lots of fruit, both fresh and canned. I had a banana split, Trien had some wild exotic confection, and it was well worth the 8 Ringgit total we paid for them. If we had the same thing in Kl, we would have paid at least twice as much for something not nearly as good.

I repost the map below to remind you where the hawker center is located. Click on it to see the full sized version.

Bon Appetit!

Bush Pictures

2007-05-30T21:40:00.000+08:00

All from the viral emails website.

The Most Dangerous Animal in Malaysia

2007-05-29T18:20:00.000+08:00

I doubt this is a native species, but these guys are so cute they are dangerous. I have no idea where they came from, but I don't think they came running out of the jungle. They must be tame, as they let me get really close. They were roaming around the school, near the workers hostel where we first stayed when we moved to Taiping. As far as we know, nobody there or in the teacher's quarters keep rabbits.

I'm just lucky Trien didn't see them, otherwise we probably would have two new pets!

It's Interesting, Jake . . .

2007-05-28T20:39:00.000+08:00

I have gotten to know Jake, who is from Taiping, through writing this Blog. He writes his own Blog, Stupid Malaysia, about the corruption and stupidity in the Malaysian government, and how difficult it is for non-ethnic Malays here. While I have come here to work, escape an unfair system, and for peace of mind, he has gone to the USA for the same reasons.

It seems that in some ways, at least, we are living parallel lives.

Jake has put a posting in his Blog, about how ironic it is that we went to each others countries to get away from what we both see as immoral and corrupt governments.

I left the USA, because life wasn't good for me there, and I needed a change of scenery. I had lost my job, broken up with my girlfriend, yada yada yada, and was stuck in a rut. Most of all, I felt that I could not live there anymore and give my implicit support to a government which I consider corrupt and immoral, despite all its trappings of self righteousness.

Plus, I hadn't been treated well by the government in the USA, in part because of my political activities and beliefs. I was watched, and had my phone tapped. Me, an ordinary law abiding citizen, whose only offence was some unpaid parking tickets. Yet still, The government felt I was a threat, and treated me as such.

Not that the government here is much better, especially in its treatment of non-bumiputras.
Jake does a good job of exposing those things in his Blog.

Jake went away from here, and found peace and contentment in the USA. Good for you, Jake!
I have come here, and I see all sorts of corruption and injustice all around me. That gets me really pissed off, but I am only a guest here. I will have to move away from here soon, because the immigration laws won't allow me to get permanent residence or my wife to work. Not unless I can come up with $150,000 US, and then they will welcome me with open arms, and palms outstretched.

Malaysia could be a great country, and a great place to live. Yet because of the narrowmindedness and corruption of the "Little Napoleons" who are in charge, it never will be.
Which truly is a shame. Because if they were truly intent on promoting the "racial harmony" they like to spout on about in this country, there wouldn't be a brain drain, and Malaysia would be a the major power in ASEAN politics.

Jake has made me think. I am not just a citizen of the USA, I am a citizen of the world. To quote Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."