Last week, I played handball between 12 noon to 5 pm and the court is very stuffy because some clever people said cover the windows for better acoustics wateva. So, imagine…no air, no breeze, hot afternoon, 2 x 10 minutes game played 3 times. With all the heat, sweat and etc, most people hair would have gone limp and wet. But two women in their 50s and 60s commented, “Lilian, your hair looks so pretty.” And these two are not the only women in their 60s, 70s who said, “Lilian, your hair looks so pretty. You permed them?” Even nuns said so! Ammmahhhhhh…..I don’t want to play already! My hair looks like a 60 years old auntie. Ammahh….why my hair so curly wannnn….*bawlssss*
Actually, I cut it very, very short. My youngest boy said, “Mommy, your hair looks like boy.” My sharp tongue older sons who never kena slap before said, “Ma….your hair like grandma likedat.” Cilaka, I cut it short because I hate my hair getting into people’s faces when we hug. Niamah, 44 years already and I still hate my curly hair.
Please excuse my rant because I know it is very bad to grumble over God’s given crowning glory. It is really nice, all wavy and brownish but arrgggh…I hate my hair! Sigh….I have seen chemo patients whose hair came off in bunches with the rubber hand and even their teeth dropped. So, forgive me Lord for bitching over nice hair like mine. But if you get the same ‘compliments’ over and over again from 60 years old aunties in one single evening, the 44 yrs old insecurities suddenly developed 20 years older.
Last night, I went to this condo that costs RM1.2 million which has 6 bathrooms, centralised aircond and a jacuzzi. Fuyoh, I didn’t know people lives in such luxuries. My purpose was to be the chaperone because my son invited some girls and they went to his friend’s empty condo to stay overnight. You see lah, this sorrowful mother has to stay up all night to babysit. No lah, I actually brought my book to read.
The beautiful thing is how wonderful their group is. They are between 14 yrs to 16 yrs and are Muslims, Protestants and Catholics. They are so aware of the current situation in our country and though I do not eavesdropped I do know that they totally agree that our country is very screwed, the education sucks, some teachers are morons and some politicians are stupid. That’s the Bangsa Malaysia of our future.
Anyway, I am still reading about the life of St. Francis Assisi. It has taken me a long time to finish the book because it is using the 1950s English and St. Francis Assisi is so insane. It is hard to digest too many things at one go when you read about this crazy but interesting person.
Finally, I got to the part where he bravely went to the Sultan, trying to convert him! Fulamak, it is so interesting how things turned out. This was during the crusades where the Moslems called the Christians infidels and vice versa.
I like this description, “either quite mad or supremely sane”. It pretty much sum up what I told a person recently, “You are either darn crazy or you have faith in me.” Supremely sane. I like that word.
And that’s not all. “Saints, geniuses, lunatics are alike hard to withstand, and Francis probably seemed to him a mixture in equal parts of all three.” Therefore, if one can be 1/3 saintly, 1/3 genius and 1/3 lunatic, one can hope to be alleviated to be a saint one day.