24

Sometimes I think about the concert next year, and sometimes I think about the years of traveling and singing and I try to match the two dots. It’s like pulling a string, starting from one dot to another.

The string sometimes looks a bit wonky. Sometimes it doesn’t find the other dot. Sometimes it travels off the page. Sometimes it takes on a life of its own and two ends appear to find each other.

My hair these days feels a bit fried, the things that overwhelm me take a life of their own. But so so very often, joy happens.  Looking at my children, reading a book, singing a melody, drawing wherever the pencil takes me or travelling and wandering in my mind, never really having to go anywhere. 

Staying and waiting. 

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting for things to grow, waiting for things to heal, waiting for the world to catch a breath, waiting for capriciousness to abate, waiting to get ready. 

On the surface the river looks calm and uneventful. We sink and let sink, falling, falling, sinking into the depths. Until you feel and find the full length of what is allowed and gifted to you. And then you rise up again to take that breath.

Happy 24th ❤️

我的 AI

As my AI voice takes on a life of its own while I despair over my overhanging stomach and my children's every damn thing, I can't help but want to write something about it.

My fans have officially switched sides and accepted that I am indeed 冷门歌手 while my AI persona is the current hot property. I mean really, how do you fight with someone who is putting out new albums in the time span of minutes.

Whether it is ChatGPT or AI or whatever name you want to call it, this "thing" is now capable of mimicking and/or conjuring,  unique and complicated content by processing a gazillion chunks of information while piecing and putting together in a most coherent manner the task being asked at hand. Wait a minute, isn't that what humans do? The very task that we have always convinced ourselves; that the formation of thought or opinion is not replicable by robots, the very idea that this is beyond their league, is now the looming thing that will threaten thousands of human conjured jobs. Legal, medical, accountancy, and currently, singing a song. 

You will protest, well I can tell the difference, there is no emotion or variance in tone/breath or whatever technical jargon you can come up with. Sorry to say, I suspect that this would be a very short term response.

Ironically, in no time at all, no human will be able to rise above that. No human will be able to have access to this amount of information AND make the right calls OR make the right mistakes (ok mayyyybe I'm jumping ahead). This new technology will be able to churn out what exactly EVERYTHING EVERYONE  needs. As indie or as warped or as psychotic as you can get, there's probably a unique content that could be created just for you. You are not special you are already predictable and also unfortunately malleable.

At this point, I feel like a popcorn eater with the best seat in the theatre. (Sidenote: Quite possibly in this case no tech is able to predict what it's like to be me, except when this is published then ok it's free for all). It's like watching that movie that changed alot of our lives Everything Everywhere All At Once, except in this case, I don't think it will be the idea of love that will save the day.

In this boundless sea of existence, where anything is possible, where nothing matters, I think it will be purity of thought, that being exactly who you are will be enough. 

With this I fare thee well.

Tales of A Shitty Parent

Hello.

I have been pretty much home bound the last 9 days, the Son had been sick and venturing beyond is just a waste of time with a 5 year old that swings from a loving sweetie, to a kicking grumpy kaiju (also known as Monster in the movie Pacific Rim).

Here is our past one week and two days in case you were wondering.

——-

Day 1

Coughs with slight fever at the end of the day. Hmm let’s see what meds we have in the cabinet. Some Actifed? Dimetapp? Some Panadol for the fever? The Son protests at the foul tasting ones, ok I suppose he doesn’t really need it at this point. Our nights of interrupted sleep begins.

Day 3

Cough is not letting up, Fever spiked up to 38. Let’s see, the doctor said anything beyond 38.5 we should give Ibuprofen? Phenexpect would help him sleep? Fever lets up at times, yayhay signs of recovery!? Appetite is hugely diminished, energy level: normal.

Day 4 

Hardly eating, energy level: normal (by normal 5 year old standard), Low by boundless energy bunny standard.  Night time, we decided to bring him to a GP since it’s the only one available on a weekend night. Let’s pick the ones we are covered for with insurance? Ok, here’s the nearest one. Popped in the nearest clinic got our antibiotics, felt much more relieved. Yeah let’s nuke those buggers!

Day 6 

Morning, still erratic temperature, we went to his paediatrician, X-ray showed gunk in lungs. Doctor Linqi suspected pneumonia. A blood test was required. Took a Q number. When his turn came, we spent twenty minutes trying to convince the Son a blood test is much less painful than his last fall. Screams and cries.

No blood test for him.

We were told that his antibiotics were the wrong dosage. At his weight it should almost be doubled of what he was taking. He was prescribed another short dose of stronger antibiotic, increased dose of Augmentin. Phexpect and Actifed were both prescribed.

Day 8

Day 8 of struggling with the amount of TV time he is having and terrible tasting medicines. Day 8 of multiple debates on whether soaks in the bathtub spikes the fever. Day 8 of  “You can’t have any more chocolate, it’s making you ill” even when he was not eating. Written notes of “you hate me” and “I hate mama”, “Ya? Well I don’t care if you die!” Apologies. Both ways.

Day 8, after bouts of extreme crankiness, vomit on the bedsheets, two nights of camping on the bedroom floor. Hot and room temperature water sips in the middle of the nights. Dinosaur egg excavating activity. Twenty books. Ipad games. All sorts of yogurt drinks. Looking up recipes and cooking bone broth and of course short escapades to the mall for sanity.

Day 8 evening, he finally finished his bowl of noodles without expelling on either ends, I swear there were tears in my eyes.

———-

Today, just before mosquito hour, we brought him to the park for a short walk. We looked at the odd pitcher plants and listened out for the belching frogs. We admired the pink stemmed tapiocas and smelled the lemon basil and mugwort. He balanced on his two wheeled bike that he’s grown way too big for and wrote me a note that says, “For Mama: I will help you.” 

He’s going back to school tomorrow. As I type this at 430 am in the morning, I realised the times I had forgotten about the swell in my belly.

There’s another one coming??

Haha, Nadim and I are doing it all over again.

We can’t wait.

Penelope

There's this girl in my class, let's call her Penelope.
Penelope had great toys, she would often bring her 48 dollar barbies in various clothes to school. At my time $48 is a shitload of money, my parents never would have bought me one so I had probably never asked for it. So, Penelope has this coveted toy, she also had fair porcelain skin and straight bangs that she would often use her saliva to flatten to perfection. She was this strange mix of perfect with questionable hygiene. Naturally I looked at her with curiosity and some disgust. 

So when the time arose where I had the chance to rise beyond my $18 grey pound puppy, I probably did. 
Now in my defense I have absolutely no recollection on what I did to the poor girl, I suspect it was that I said her doll was ugly or that my disdain at her fringe benefits were too apparent. What happened next was a tirade of her saying her father would come and give me a scolding.
For a while I was actually quite frightened. I wish I could say the same about my dad, but no, I knew that wasn't going to happen. So I waited. A day passed, and then another. My anxiety quelled and quietened like the flyaways of her fringe.

This memory of Penelope with her Barbie stayed with me for quite a while. Her father never showed up and I never talked about her Barbie again. If I do see her again in the streets, I would probably still remember her as the girl with the above history. It might be the thing about her that would stick with me forever. But you know what, she probably is a whole lot more to the people around her. And you know what, that's what I think about what happened last night. I may be a Penelope to some, but to other people I'm also a whole lot more. Thank you for showing me that I am more. :)

SON

Dear all,

As I had promised eons ago, here is a new blog entry. 

I know I haven't been doing this for a long time, and more so since I've had a big sunshine (or meteor depending on which day you ask) appear in my life.

Being a mum, I usually click on the multiple articles that gives you some insight to tell you what parenting means. I read it to maintain some sanity while I make a bolt for the next job overseas. Sometimes it informs you on the demise of your individuality (which I am hard pressed to deny), sometimes they tell you what is the best way to raise a child (most of which I am finally ignoring) and the best ones are usually the ones that say it's ok.

I too would like to say it's ok. Ahem.

It's ok to have toys lying around (as I type this out with a Thomas, a magna doodle plus a launch pad lying nearby), it's ok to feed your kid a chocolate biscuit (you just have to pay for it when he goes into hyper mode), it's ok to not have a change of clothes when he has juice down his t-shirt (use a wet wipe or tissue or just wait for it to dry because you SIMPLY HAVE NONE OF THE ABOVE), it's ok when you simply lose it and shout at him (you then apologize like any reasonable adult does).

I think it's ok when you can't keep up or keep it in or keep breathing. After all, it happens to all mothers.

Then there are these other things that are also supposed to be ok.

It's ok that some Didi pushed him to the ground and nobody was there to intervene. It's ok that he needs air conditioning to sleep because we can afford it. It's ok that I had to leave for work while he had a bout of sniffles and fever. It's ok that teachers will teach him about bad people before teaching him about circumstances.

These issues when viewed collectively seem unrelated or even the least of most people's worries. But in my opinion, they give a preview of the spectrum of how the world works. He will experience and learn unfairness, inequality, practicality over dreams (as it means today), and eventually, hopefully, he would determine a truthful and decent way to live.

I type these little fears as time makes a man out of my boy. As I noticed his baby fat slowly leaving his cheeks, I treasure every hug (even if I had to remind him), every giggle and every "Mama can you sleep with me?" requests. I also treasure every tantrum and that the different outcomes whether it be giving in or not budging, is out of love for meeting his desires or a lesson learnt.

In the whole spectrum of things (or at least mine), we are infinitesimally small.  Son, wander and then wonder, and go for what energizes you by its truth and beauty.  And life might hurt you, it might even sometimes be painful or not funny, but keep your head up always because I'm your mama and I know you can. You might even see a funny side where I can't. ;)

As for the rest of you, remember to call your mum.