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Tween Love-Making, Teenage Story Resurfaced and Desires

One of the most disturbing things I’ve seen on the internet a few months or weeks ago was a boy on top of a girl, and the next video the girl on her knees while doing something to the same boy who was then lying down.

While I was fifteen at a chalet party, we all had gathered and the boys turned on some adult video on someone’s laptop. It looked painful, and I was more concerned over being caught because they were using MY mobile data. I walked out of the room to hang out with the others about one or two minutes after the video, and didn’t care much about it anymore. When I was 10 I had accidentally clicked on a bait that downloaded lots of nude pictures into my computer. My dad was about to have lunch when I told him about it and he got up to have them deleted. Before that I had come across the profile of a girl from Singapore named “Amirah” who also posed in her birthday suit and I told my mom about it. After that I didn’t really care anymore.

But this time it was different.

A Stranger Got Sick

Some time ago I was at a surau at my prayer mat to pray when I instinctively turned around to find a young teenage girl looking down at her pool of stomach contents. I watched her mom roll her eyes at her and left her just like that. My mother was a perfectionist woman who gave me that look whenever I did something wrong as a child too. The look that only heightened fear and diminished any sense of real confidence in a person. I did not want the cycle to go on.

Immediately I abandoned my praying intentions and rushed to the alone girl with my bag. I’m known as Doraemon in my family, so my bag has everything. Lots and lots of tissues I offered her and even helped her push the spew away from other people who were there to pray. We covered it with tissues. She looked confused, alone, and I can probably tell, sad.

“Are you having a headache?” I asked.

She nodded solemnly, and I offered her a mint. I happened to have a paper bag and I opened it up and taught her to scoop up her vomit (using the lots and lots of tissues) into the bag.

Her mother returned with a cleaner and pointed it to the cleaner, and she brought her daughter to the washing area where she gave her daughter another lecture. I think she briefly thanked me (or didn’t, I remember the girl saying thank you quietly though). They left, and the cleaner mopped the floor. The girl and I had picked up 90% of the gag.

There I was, about to pray, but went to clean up a stranger’s vomit instead.

I Don’t Remember

I honestly don’t remember the last time I felt really sad or mad.

I know I won’t be anymore, because I understand where my feelings are coming from.

That’s my plan. To share what I know with more people. Have psychological freedom.

Your psyche, your mind, everything you see, whatever that happens to you, actually comes from your psychology.

The body you have is the result of what you eat, and what you eat depends on your “mood” or “feelings”. What you see, the circumstances and how you perceive or interpret it too is based on your psychology.

I know I am psychologically free.

It really is a blissful feeling.

I’ve had days where I contemplated jumping off my apartment window. I remember sitting on the edge, door locked, and calculating the risks. Just a few years ago I believed everybody hated me and that I didn’t ask to be born in this world. I lived through days waiting to die. And died on the inside while living in the outside world. Everybody else “in the world” seemed to support how I felt about myself.

Not anymore. 99% of whomever I come across are very helpful, are so very lovely to me. The 1% I understand where they’re coming from and I don’t take offense/take anything personally when they’re not being nice to me.

It’s not saying I don’t have problems. I still don’t live in abundance luxury and haven’t bought new clothes in three months. I think about that Subway sandwich and sometimes they do look expensive. From time to time I wonder if I’m able to do this or that. I still doubt myself. What I can do and what I cannot.

But they don’t rob bliss off me. They cannot.

They can pinch a bit of bliss, but I know it’s a pinch and I can slap its hand off my bliss. It’s as easy as that.

I want you to know how I know what to do, and so I am holding a short workshop to share with you what I’ve been searching seventeen years for.

Connection Workshop

I’m going to let this post sit like this unedited, as it captures/captured my raw thoughts in the moment. Thanks and hope to see you at my workshop 🙂

The Purpose of Life is to be A Nobody

Somehow I just can’t connect to medium.com but I found this wonderfully-written, profound article on Quartz while searching for my book online. It has original links to Design Luck. I have subscribed to Design Luck’s newsletter, but I don’t know what other articles there are. But this one just made me go wow wow wow wow.

Note that I don’t have the permission to repost this article yet, so I am saying it here that I did not write The Purpose of Life is to be A Nobody. I just find that it’s so spot-on to what A Nobody means to me when I wrote A Nobody’s Observations that I want the whole article in my blog. It feels so glorious to know I’m not the only one who now knows what A Nobody means.

When I titled my book A Nobody’s Observations, I did intend “A Nobody” to have multiple layers of meanings to it. I write everything this way, actually. In a way there’s no one exact meaning when you read my posts. You read it according to how you’re seeing things at the moment. Sort of like a writer’s play with the readers. The next moment, when perhaps you understand a little bit more, you see another meaning to it. But really, I love The Purpose of Life is to be A Nobody.

People have told me they don’t understand how I’m so “chill” or “don’t care” about many things. I literally approach CEOs the same way I’ve approached my security guards. I don’t look at an older person as someone I need to highly respect, neither do I care to look at credentials before I want to trust somebody. It’s all because I know I am a Nobody. …and that everybody else is a Nobody as well, thinking they’re somebodies.

I don’t understand what the writer meant in #3 because I don’t associate “struggle” with “defining self”, but it’s fine nonetheless. I believe in Resilience though, that everybody is resilient… I understand now.

Touch The Human Need

Yesterday evening I had to meet someone at Puteri Harbour and along the way, I saw throngs of foreign men in construction hats and safety vests walking into the woodland.

Managed to see container houses in between the bushes. I looked into the distance and saw magnificent skyscrapers enhancing the evening red sky. An irony; labelling this city “world class”, “education hub” blah blah while the ones who carry the heavy iron and ironing out the sketched ideas live in container houses.

I want to hug all of them.

Today I accompanied my parents to the morning market. I don’t enjoy getting up on a Sunday morning to go out, but once I’m out it’s really no biggie. I love watching people at the morning market.

The morning market or Malay word is “Pasar Pagi” or sometimes it’s called “Pasar Tani” (Farmer’s market) is where farmers sell their goods there. I highly doubt that they grew the vegetables themselves but whatever. Counterfeit watches and electronics. My dad buys his bottle of honey there every Sunday and will come home every time to test the authenticity of his honey. I’d rather just spend at a mall. What’s enjoyable to me is watching people at the morning market. Another kind of charm.

Love and Friendship

I think we’re misunderstanding love.

Love to me is a space inside of you that you keep clean, off all judgement, negativity, hatred, about another person. When you understand that everybody has something else in their minds, a reason for them to act on impulse or why they do what they do, then you’d find yourself incapable of hating or disliking them. In that way, I honestly say I love everybody. Don’t send more hatred to a person who already fills his world with it.

There’s my security guard who gets excited when he sees me. I drove and waved at him, thankful that he would want to share his smile with me, making my drives out of my neighbourhood so much more pleasant. I chose to live there because of the beautiful view, but I believe now it’s the security guards that make it so lovely.

Thank you.

On my way to a business meeting, I drove to my mechanic in my old vicinity (about 20 minutes drive away) where I feel this space of love again. It’s just already there. Sometimes you can feel it, sometimes you don’t. Who I would like to be this space of love, peace, and comfort for everyone. The mechanic was happy to see me too, as I was happy to see him. My parents think it’s because I’m a woman, but I honestly don’t think it’s because of that. Half of the world is women! If it’s true that women make men happy, then all men should be happy.

Tolerating

Why do you think “tolerance” or “tolerate” is a good word? I think when you tolerate, you take a ball of salt and you hold it. One day when you fall, wounded, that salt’s going to hurt you.

“Can’t you see what I’ve done all these years?! All these while I’ve been putting up with this and this is how you repay me!!!”

Understanding, on the other hand, gets the salt dissolved. When a person does something, you understand and it goes away. You won’t be holding any balls of grudge.

Have you noticed how you might be judgemental about the mother when you see a child crying non-stop, you try to tolerate the crying but inside you still plays a story about how irresponsible or stupid the mother is. But when you open up to understanding that something might have happened to them last night, or that she just lost ten thousand bucks worth of Bitcoin, the salt dissolves and a whole new feeling changes inside of you. You understand that no mother (in her right mind) would want a child to keep crying in public. Something must’ve happened that occupied her mind with something else. You’d start feeling empathetic towards her.

Look to be understanding, not merely tolerant.