Can I not be strict?

It was an uneventful day. I was indirectly told that my review was too much and it was the reason for the staff not able to clear their work fast enough. Heck, I was just doing my job. It is my job to review to ensure work done is up to the standard quality required by the profession. And now I am to be "blamed" for that.

What has the current Y generation come to? They complain to a superior that my review is too time consuming to clear. Well, if work was done satisfactory, I would not have raise those queries. Now I have to take the rap.

Somehow this mentality is spreading, from the rumours in the universities and colleges and now to the workplace. The standard of quality have to be lowered to meet those who cannot acheive that level set in the first place. It is like telling, well, you cannot pass at 50 marks, we let you pass at 40 marks.

And who is to take the rap when some hoo-haa crops up and then the finger is pointed that the work done did not meet the quality standard set. I am just doing my job, i have already close one eye, now I am told to close 90% of my other eye. Can I do that? Shoud I do that?

Well, I said "No". I just told the person who gave me the instruction, "No, I will not do it. Just tell your staff to get it right the first time"....If they do get it right the first time for even 50% of the time, I will be out of job...and maybe I will be happy about that.

Join the wagon of enzyme

I had put off making garbage enzyme for quite a while. I was wondering what all the hype was about. Was it such a wonder liquid? It was reported to be a fantastic cleaning agent, a fertilizer additive, etc, stop short of saying it is miracle water. My skepticism got the better of me and I told myself, I will not jump in the wagon of garbage enzyme.

Then came the turning point. I was introduced to meet the enzyme itself, It did not look as bad or smell as bad as I had imagine it to be. So, armed with the recipe, I trotted home and started my first enzyme. That was slightly 6 weeks ago. Now I am just waiting for the first of my 3 bottles to complete the fermentation cycle.

Upon furthering reading up on the enzyme, it is nothing more than vinegar. Making vinegar is the similar process of making enzyme. It then dawned upon me that many of the uses of vinegar have been replicated in the uses of garbage enzyme. Haiya, why all the trouble to collect my garbage then? Well, the plus side of this is I have less organic waste to pass to by garbage man and less organic waste for my dogs to dig up when I composed them.

The “fragrance” emitted from the ferment is dependant on what organic waste is used in the fermentation process. I stuck mainly to citrus fruits peels, pandan leaves and mango skins (because it was mango season and I had abundance of the peels).

Next on my agenda was fruit enzyme. I have heard too much about dragon fruit enzyme and it cost a bomb to buy it. This is one of the few moments I enjoyed surfing the internet. I found various “recipes” for making fruit enzyme. Most of the recipe guides used sugar and fruits only, no water. I decided to join this wagon too. Since the fruit I had on hand was pineapple and a green apple, I decided to make 2 fruit enzymes. I only had to go out to buy my lemon.


Well, it is now 2 weeks into my fruit enzyme and it is turning out well. I can’ wait for the 3rd week to come when I can drink my enzyme. I intend to continue fermenting half of the fruit enzyme and hopefully turn out some alcoholic drink out of it.

I AM HALF AS WISE AS BEFORE, BUT I AM STILL WISE, AS I EVER WAS

The dreaded day came. I lie on the chair, shaking in my bones. It was more than 2 decades ago I lie in such a chair. It felt like my first time, but it was not. I closed my eyes, reminiscing back to that day I last lie on this chair. I told myself then, I would not lie here again. But then, here I was, shaking all over.

Suddenly a cheery voice boomed, “How are you today? Have you had your breakfast?” The voice of a cheery young man. I smiled, “Fine, yes, I have eaten this morning”.

“OK, let’s open up. I am going to give you quite a bit of this, so you will feel relax”, he said. I closed my eyes; clench my fists as I was injected with the serum all over. I hated this part the most. I dreaded this part, since the day I was told I needed to do this“. “There… all done, relax”. He left the room, and there I was all alone. Visions flared in my mind. Hey, it was not as bad as I thought. Back then, I was too young to know what was going on, now that I understood, it did not felt that bad.

Soon, the numbness set it. I could not feel a thing. My head was wrapped and I could not see a thing. The only sense that was working was my hearing. I could not even taste since my tongue of push back.

For the next 20 minutes, I could hear the drilling sound, the soothing voice and the sucking sound. Off and on, I felt the pressure, hard and almost painful. I held on. Soon it would be over, I thought.

“There, we are done”, he said. I opened my eyes and the bright light almost blinded me. I sat up, bite into the cotton, half dazed. There lie in the tray, my two wisdom teeth, one of them sawed into half.

Rocky, the joyful companion

Rocky was my nieghbour for 5 years. He came along my the uncle next door adopted him. He was so attached to uncle, truly a companion to uncle. The barks I heard each time would alert me to passers wla

Now Rocky is gone. When the uncle had to move out as he can't be on his own any more as age was catching up. Uncle was in his 70s already. When Uncle left, Rocky was having the whole house to himself. He became wary of people as time went by. But when I stroked him, I felt the sadness in Rocky.

My heart chokes till this day when Rocky comes in to my mind. Why? Because of his age, Rocky could not find someone to adopt him. I wish I could... I wish I had. Rocky ended up in the pound. I prayed each day, that Rocky has been adopted. If he has, I wish him all the happiness he has. I dare not think what happens if Rocky had not been adopted.

Rocky... I miss you.

When wings are clipped

I am grounded. When I had wings, not that I don’t have any now, my wings took me to flight, I could not care less for anything in the world. The feel of wind through my feathers… the lightness in me… Now that I lost my flight abilities, I wished I was not so irrational to have my wings clipped in return for life free of worries.

Let me weigh my pros and cons – I have no worries where and when my next meal will come but I cannot fly. I have no worries where to find shelter when the storm comes but I cannot fly. I have no worries being preyed upon but I still cannot fly.

Was this comfort worth it for the loss of freedom?