A Light that Warms Up the World

The society expects this group of men and women to be supermen and superwomen, but they’re not, they’re only, humans just like you and I, and they DESERVE that job well done commend, which they still, aren’t receiving, because the people take their work as matter-of-fact, the underappreciation of the job of social work, it’s a wonder, the number of personnel in this field is declining, because who wants to work in a job, where there’s a ton of work, and ZERO appreciation?  Translated…

It’d moved me, after I’d read the news of how more than three hundred social workers went to the Department of Sanitation & Social Welfares to protest after the news of the young child getting abused to death.

As a caretaker of  my own demented mother, I’d bumped into a ton of things I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry over, like when I’d taken to visit the zoo, I’d gone to restroom, in no more than five short minutes that I was, gone, she had a drumstick, and ice cream in her hands, and, I was more than certain, that she’d cried out to the stranger she was hungry.  Although, I’m more than grateful to the fellow visitors to the zoo, but, with diabetes, she needed to be on a restricted, diet.

this is just one of their “job descriptions”…photo from online

One time, my mother complained to the neighbors that she’d gone hungry too many, times, the neighbors kindly reported me to the social services that I’d been, abusing her.  First came, the police officers to my home, then the social workers, and, when they’d visited, it was usually during the time when I was bathing my mother, or while I was, preparing her meals, and, bathing and feeding the demented elderly, these are, energy draining things.  And I’d felt, upset, because I got interrupted, to the point of feeling that I was being, surveilled, that I wasn’t trusted to give my mother the care she’d, needed, I was, under high levels of, stress.

But after awhile, the social workers still came visiting with great zest, disregarded how I’d treated their visits too coldly.  And thinking back, how could the social workers know, the trials of the primary caretakers?  Until a social worker recommended I go and take courses on elderly care provision, the elderly demented classes, health seminars, meal plans with the other elderly with dementia in the community……..along with the helpful resources, that was when I’d let my guards down, and feel, that the social workers just wanted to create a safe and amicable environment, to not miss out on any members of the public in need, how much passion must they have, to work like this?

Social workers are like silent warriors, fighting with all they have on the frontlines, and, carried the fragile cases on themselves, plus the families’ refusing to get the help, all of these factors, made the home visits, difficult to happen, while in the actual visits, there would be the onset of what isn’t predicted, hard to use the standard operating procedures to handle.  The net of social security needed to be weaved into form thread by thread, really difficult to find that one-does cure all, after all, social workers aren’t gods, they may have the misses too, if we rely solely on the social workers, it would be, delusional.

and, many are, buried in the paperwork too…photo from online

As we hurried to blame the social workers when tragedies happen, it will, put the passions of many hard working social workers out, the incidents of child abuses is eye catching, I’m certain, that nobody will forget, that the cases will continue to affect the society; I hope, that the words that were spoken won’t hurt the compassions of those who are actually, trying to help, to make a difference, because I was once in the dark too, and I’m more than grateful, for the social workers to light that path for me, to watch over my mother and I, as we, keep on, going down this, road.

So, this is how social workers get scapegoated, as the work on the frontlines of these things, but, we don’t realize, that these hard working men and women already got one too many cases that they’re all assigned to, and they’re, only, humans, and CAN’T keep an eye out for everybody, and yet, the society and the people EXPECT that they will, because that’s within their, work responsibilities, and, had this person NOT encountered the hardships of caring for her own demented mother, she would’ve, not gained enough empathy toward the social workers, because she’d been, on the receiving end for the assistance needed.

Just Keep on Running Like a Fool

Keeping that habit to help you get healthier, and it surely, isn’t, easy to, persist in our, exercise routines for sure, but persist we MUST!  Translated…

I Had the Thoughts of, Giving Up from Before, but Seeing How My Daughter Shared with Me, Gleefully about What She’d Gained from Running, Truly, it’s Not Hard to Give Up, but Persisting is Awesome, I Shall, Continue to……….

“I’d HATED running the MOST, like a foolish person, just, keep on, running, non-stop………”, this was the comment I’d made toward running from before.  I’m sorry, I’ll, take that back now!  I’d gone out for my morning jogs for an hour, and, who doesn’t love that need to keep on, moving, on?

The story became, in July, 2023.

Several nights I’d waken up, after I’d fallen asleep, experiencing the, pains in my heart, and thought, that my daughters are still quite young, if something were to, happen to me, it’s best, that I go and get my cardiology, exam.  And, just like that, I was, routed, rerouted between the various departments, and, had an all-time record of going to the hospitals four days out of the week.  In the end, in the cardiologist’s office, I’d had the diagnosis of mitral insufficiency, arrhythmia from anoxia of my heart muscles.

Every night, I’d, taken out that huge bag of medication, carefully, taken out the worth of meds for the day, “am I, really going to get, kidnapped by the medications from here on out?”, I’d asked my cardiologist, the cardiologists flipped thoroughly through my records that I’d kept of my blood pressures, “of course, if you’re, willing to change your lifestyle, exercise regularly, and change your diet, we can, try and reduce your, medication that way.”

illustration from UDN.com

As I’d, received the go-ahead of meds reduction that day, I’d started, chowing down on the vegetables.  Yep, I was, a pure, carnivore, with the greens, missing from my, original, diets, but to get rid of my reliance on the medications, to keep on living, I’d, had to, get really, acquainted with the, veggies.

My husband suggested that I try out the 180 beat-per-minute slow jogging, 180 steps per minute, and selected the videos for me, and I’d, followed the instructions from the coach, and kept with the rhythms, started, jogging, and to help me out, my husband and daughter too, started, the slow-jog plans too.

At the start, after half a day’s worth of jogging, I’d turned my head to the clock, “what, only six minutes?” truly, every second felt like a year……….and the persistent of thirty-minutes per day of this, super slow jogging, and when it was wet and cold, or when I just, couldn’t make another step, I’d wanted to, quit, but seeing how happy my daughter shared with me what she’d gained from the exercises, yeah, it’s easy to, give up, but, persistence is, way much, cooler, I shall, continue then.

In behavioral psychology, it’s said, that a new habit gets formed in twenty-one days, surely, after three short weeks, I got that feel of, the need to, run, that when there’s nothing for me to do, I’d, wanted to, run on.  Every morn, I’d gone to the track to run early, a few of my fellow joggers I’d become, acquainted to, we’d said hi with our gazes.  As I’d gotten used to the exercises, I’d no longer needed the beats, nor the timer, and when it’d rained, I’d still gone to the gymnasium to do it, I’d run to the point that I’m, smiling now.  How, did I go from, I HATE running, to this?

Slowly, under the permissions of my cardiologist, my perfect blood pressure records got me off the medications.

But, there’s, the downside to continue running!  “Your waistline’s starting to show……”, my daughter reminded me, “nothing I can do, the shorts are, way too, short now!”, I’d worn my daughter’s P.E. shorts from her elementary school years, because I’d, dropped down a whole size now.  The shoes, the shirts, the sports bras, all needed to get, replaced, like I said, there’s, a DOWNSIDE!

a video of this trending form of, exercise, off of YouTube

The WHO recommends that adults work out for twenty-one to forty-five minutes a day, this is the frequency to keep our bodies healthy and fit.  The sweat all coming out, and seeing how my muscles are, all working together, it’d felt, amazing, are you, moved yet, start the slow jogs too!

So, this is, the psychological and biological benefits to exercising, because this person had the health conditions, that’s why she’d, changed her living habits, dieting, eating healthy, and keeping up with exercise, and she’d found something she could do for long term, and that’s the key to this, finding something you can do for a long time, that way you don’t get too fatigued that you want to, stop exercising altogether.

On Love

A lesson of love, taught by a, young, child…translated…

My young granddaughter just turned six, one day she’d come to visit her grandparents, her grandfather and her were in the small living room, playing that game of hide-and-seek she never gets tired of, playing, the poor grandpa had to, squat to behind the couch, hidden himself underneath the breakfast tables, she’d played on joyously for once, twice……eight times, nine time…………

As I’d grown tired, when my back started aching, she’d suddenly halted, told, “Grandpa, my boyfriend is XX”.  I’m so glad, that I could use the chit chat to take a breather.

I’d inquired, “why is XX your, boyfriend?”

She’d told me because he loves her, and she loves him, too.  I was surprised, “love” was something huge, I can’t even understanding the meanings of love yet, and I’m already in my, seventies, and I’d continued prodding, “What, is love?”

Without any, hesitation, she’d responded back to me, “when he speaks, I listen; and when I speak, he, listens”.

It was a bit, funny, but chewing her words over, they’d, made, perfect, sense, if someone speaks, and the other person doesn’t pay any attention, how can there be, love between the two?  I still have some extra recuperation to do, and I’d, made fun again, “preschool will soon be out, what will you do?”, she’d told me, “he’d told me he would, miss, me.”

Okay then, “what is, ‘miss’?”, I’d asked her.

“You don’t even know this!  ‘Miss; is when I get to, talk to him, in my, mind.”

It was getting more interesting for me then, I’d pressed, “when he’d told you he’d missed you, how do you, feel?”

“I feel, warmed.”

I’d become, completely, in a, daze, and as I’d contemplated, if this was generation gap, and looked toward my wife who’s, making the meals for everybody in the kitchen, when did she, start to, hunch over?

While my young granddaughter didn’t want to continue to discuss with me, what love, is anymore, “Pops!  Your turn to go and hide now!”

And so, this is, an everyday interaction a grandfather has with his young granddaughter, and, this still showed how children are, MUCH, MUCH, M-U-C-H wiser, than all the adults are, they may be young, but they know MORE things that we do, and yet, we adults believe that we’re older, therefore, we know better and more, but in reality, it’s us, who need to learn these important yet, simple lessons of life from the young children.

A Downpour that Just, Came (Two Poems)

On how EGOTISTICAL, self-centered, the human species (we human beings!), are…thinking that everything that’s happening revolves around, us…translated…

how we humans, are! Thinking that the world revolved around, us…illustration from online

A Downpour Just Came

Suddenly, All the Stars in the Universe All Presented Themselves Clearly

Not One Was Missing

Entered into My Pupils

I Was Moved to Tears————

Imagined that this was,

What the World Will Experience

When We’re, Both About to Die

At the Same Time

But in Truth it Was Only

Due To

A Downpour that Just, Came Down

A Downpour that Just, Finished Up

A Downpour that’s Just, Ended

So, this is how we still think that the world is, revolved around us sometimes, even though we KNEW, that the world doesn’t but because we’re all, too, self-centered, because we like to think of ourselves as the CENTER of the, UNIVERSE…

It’s Sunny Today

Can the Night Skies Be Described as Sunny?

The Night is Vacant Tonight

With All the Stars, Coming Out in Appearance, Not One Was, Missing—————

But, the Gazing Between Us Vanished

The Sounds of Stars at Play, Missing Too

Even the Calls Toward Each Other————

The Words of Exchange Between Us, Vanished, the Stars

In the Universe, All Fell, Silent

I Thought They Saw Something—but it was Actually

That Downpour that just, Came Down

The Downpour that Just, Came Down

Nothing More than that Downpour, that just, Rained, Down

And, this is, still on how we humans think that the world, the universe revolves around us, and that would be, one of the problems as a species that we have, because, the world revolves around ITSELF, it does NOT revolve around us, and yet, we tend to, ascribe everything that’s happened in nature, to our own, terms…

The Spring Rolls After the Memorial Holidays

The foods for the special occasions, and, now, it’s time, for everybody to leave after the gathering of the families of the Memorial Holiday weekend…translated..

“They have it in the stands, if you want one, go out and buy one!”, my daughter heard these responses from me over and over again, when she’d, wanted to have the spring roll wrap I make, she’d, found a very, delicate way of, requesting it.

Early the following morn, I’d headed off to the market early, first, I’d needed to make sure, that there are still, the wraps available after Memorial Day, if not, then, it ends everything.  Thankful, there are still, the flour wraps sold, the following were series of, minor, tasks.  I’d worried of forgetting something, called home to ask my mother-in-law, heard my father-in-law called out, “white chives, bean sprouts”.  No worries, already, purchased.  I knew, that for my father-in-law, without these two ingredients, then, the spring wraps wouldn’t be spring wraps anymore.

My mother-in-law’s spring wrap ingredients were as follows: sliced bean curds, bean sprouts, yellow chives, sliced carrots, sliced cabbage, sliced eggs, sliced meat, with the peanut powders, sugar, seaweed powder.  And, other than these fundamentals, it’s all up to the makers to get “off the grid”, see what we have cooked up in the meals that day.  The boys who liked meats more, will put a few slices of grandma’s famous stewed beef.  The odd sixth grade boy can put some mini sausages in.  This year, my older sister suggested some sliced cucumber, sure, makes everything tastes much, lighter!  Added them all, into my, shopping, list.

Then, rushing home, picking the vegetables, cleaning them, julienning everything to slices.  Chop, chop, chop, that rhythmic chopping sound, turned my excitement into, that calmer sort of, joy.  At the very end, I’d, watched all of my chopped up ingredients, lain out, like the palettes of colors on a artist’s palette, light yellow, translucent white, greens, reddish orange, brown, beautiful, just like the cosmetic counters in the malls.

Stir-frying the ingredients now, using the heated oil, turned the fire on medium to large, finally, a pinch of, salt.  Do pay heed, no water, everything needs to be crisp, to taste perfect in the wraps.

the food item for the ocassion…photo from online

And it’d taken, at least two hours, to prepare these, five, to six, ingredients, and of these, the most time-consuming was the bean sprouts, needed to pluck the top and the bottom off by hand, and my three kids are at home, they were watching T.V., laughing loudly!  My hands that were, leisure, can pluck the bean sprouts while I keep my attention on the T.V. and the kids.  After that, I’d, spread open the wraps one by one, to get the heat evaporated, then, folding the pieces, gotten a plate, place the folded wraps on that, that way, when I start assembling later, they won’t stuck together.

Finally, before the Memorial Holidays are over, I’d, gotten everybody to come home to have the spring wraps.  The moist bean sprouts, the cucumber, the yellow chives, the crisp cabbage, and the peanut powder too, the scent from the sesame powder, one bite, and it’d made us all want to shout: this is the taste of, “Springtime!”

And, this reminded me, I’d needed one extra item for next year: asparagus.  How can the taste of springtime be, without it?

Early the following morn, I’d sent my daughter off on the trains up north for work.  The weather was just sunny and fine yesterday, and now, that light drizzle came down.  Yeah, certainly, this is, Memorial Day weekend after all, so, the ingredients inside the wraps were, piece by piece too……….and, as I’d thought, my daughter hadn’t even, gotten on the trains yet, and I’d begun, missing her already.

So, this is on how this is a sort of an holiday that the families get together, to worship, to remember the ones whom we’d, lost, and, this woman went out of her way, to prepare the foods that her families enjoyed, that’s how she’d shown her care and love for them.

The Art Gallery in the Elevator

Magnet art, a conversation, starter, among the neighbors in the, building…translated…

Most of modern day people would ride the elevators multiple times a day, those whom we rode with publicly, are mostly, strangers, while the people we bumped into in our community and at work, are mostly neighbors, coworkers, and a lot are, mere, acquaintances, and so, in the seconds of riding in the elevators, there wouldn’t be too much interaction, and if it’s a long ride, we’d remained silent, and the silent would then turn, awkward.

There was a traditional bulletin board in the elevator of  my building, with the notes of electricity bills, the management fees, or the memos from the local boroughs, and what not.  Many months ago, the bulletin was damaged, and the new chair of the home committee switched it to a white board that’s magnetic, with the many shapes, and sizes magnets, other than posting the bulletins, these magnets gave the residents something fun to do.

what can we make with, these??? Photo from online

At first, there were the fish, the flowers that were made into by these, magnets.  Then afterwards, the neighbors moved the magnets around, made the faces, animals.  Then following that, no matter if it were adults, or young children, they would start, playing with the magnets on the board, exercised their, creativity, and, created various things using the board and the, magnets.

Someone made Pokémon, some made Doraemon, and Mama Flora from the cartoons, a wide variety of character, that  made those who saw them, smiled.  And, as I was, headed out, stepping into the elevator, I saw a soured face, and as I arrived home, riding up, the frown turned upward into, a smile, and it’d, made the neighbors’ feelings known to me.

Since this “gallery of the elevator” had been in place, riding the elevators became, something, interesting.  Pressing the button, waiting for the elevator, I’d become, a bit, expectant, what will I see when the door opens?  The magnetic creations are way more than the white erase boards with the erasable markers, very environmental too, and the artists need not worry about lacking in talent, and not dared to make the art.  Although, the pictures only lasted, a few short, hours at a time to only, a few short, minutes, but, from the appearing to vanishing of every picture, it’d given some joys to the residents of the building.  While as we bumped into one another, we’d had the conversation topics to share too, even if there were, only, few short words of, exchange, it’d, made the atmosphere, quite, pleasant.

Grateful for the committee chair’s thoughtfulness, making the elevator into a place where we can connect with our, neighbors.

So, a little thought goes, a long, way, and this became a way the neighbors connect to one another with, and, it only takes a little mindfulness, to cause the interactions between the neighbors who normally kept to themselves, to carry on in, conversations.

The Sourdough

How the process of fermenting, gives the sourdough its, sour, taste, and, as time progresses, the dough will, “advance” to a, totally, different taste for us to savor…translated…

After living in the U.S. for forty years, I’d suddenly, fallen in love, with, the sourdough bread.  Or, I should say, that I’d, misconstrued its, taste from the, very start, and I’d, not taken the time to, get my, prejudices of it out, until I’d, had a taste of one, and, suddenly, my attitude toward the sourdough got turned, around completely.

I’d, skipped a whole of forty years on end, and it’d, felt, quite, scary.  Had this “misunderstanding” been my first impressions of someone, that meant, that I would’ve, held on to my own, prejudices for half my, life, and, despite how the times are changed, my brain cells, were trapped in an, alternative, dimension, never moved, an inch…

sourdough rising…photo from online

This, has to do with my father a little.  I’d been told, that one time, he’d, flown alone on a flight to the U.S., at the bakery in the airport, he saw a piece of, baked to golden, a bit, burnt to black, “French baguette” the size of a man’s, head, as he’d wanted it at first sight, he’d, spent a little over a dollar to purchase, as he’d, torn off a piece, placed it in his mouth, so totally, sour, there was, nothing he’d liked about the bread, he’d spent, another dollar on a bowl of, soup, the soup was gone too quickly, while the bread, it’d, stayed, put.

He’d thought, that the huge piece of bread could last him a few days, but, it was too sour to the taste he couldn’t, even force it down his own throat.  He’d left it in the fridge then, and three days later, the loaf, hardened, couldn’t cut through it with a bread knife, there wasn’t the microwaves available in every household, and he’d not, used it, otherwise, he could’ve, heated up the bread, to gotten it, softer so he could, cut into it; my father told, that at the very end, he’d, thrown out, about, seven U.S. dollars’ worth of, food, and the moment he’d tossed the bread, came the, loud, “Thud!”

With my father’s experiences, as we all moved to the U.S., we’d, boycotted the sourdough, and, learned the term of “sourdough” by heart, and, skipped right over it whenever we encountered it.  other than the labels of the words, the bakeries also, had, used the green stripes or the color patterns on the labels to let the consumers know that these were, sourdoughs, with the French breads labeled in blue labels, and, this system of labeling took many a years, to finally, get implemented locally, and this was a sort of a life-knowledge for a lot of the immigrants to the U.S.

illustration from UDN.com

Without the labels, from the appearances, the sourdough would look a bit deeper in color than the regular French baguettes, and certainly, the burnt brown dark yellow shade, surely was, enticing; those who enjoyed the barbecues, or get their appetites working from seeing the dark and crisp exteriors, would totally, love the, sourdough.

What made me fall into the pits of the sourdough in my fifties, was a handmade whole wheat loaf from Trader Joe’s called “Pain Pauline”.  It’s, a really, weird, name, “Pauline in pain”, is it that it took, too much pain to make the breads?  Or, is it that the breads were, too delicious, that they’re gone too soon, and cost, a whole, lot?  Totally like Trader Joe’s means of, advertising the products.  And I’d, tried it out, because of the, odd name, I’d not known, that this was a kind of sourdough, because I’d, had it for five days after I’d opened up the pack, and it’d not tasted, sour at all one bit.

Until I’d returned, purchased the loaves several times, I’d gone to the food banks to volunteers, toward the end of shift, I’d found there was a bag of Pain Pauline that’s not been given out, and, the members in their trials, after picking and choosing, “salvaged” the loaf and took it home to consume, and that was when we’d all, finally, understood, that the sourdough didn’t come out of the oven sour, that it had a, multivariate “lifepath” that it’d, traveled—from freshly baked to the end, the loaf will continue to ferment, to the various stages, while, “tasting sour, but it isn’t, spoiled” became it’s, final, reputation.

So, sour, not spoiled nor, ruined, is a kind of, a realm to explore into.

And so, this would be, the life and times of the sourdough, it’d tasted sour, because of the degree of fermentation of the dough, and, because the yeast is “alive”, it will, keep on, fermenting the breads, making it age better, like the wines, and, life is like that too.

Solitude: on Growing Older Alone

Nothing wrong with being just one, I mean, some of us, PREFRE it, and, there’s NOTHING wrong with that!  Translated…

Alone isn’t a Big Deal, No Need to Become Isolated, Making Oneself into a Solitary, Island, isn’t Life a Journey of One Anyways……………

The soap opera, “Blossoms Shanghai”, directed and produced by Wang Kar-Wai, was a very popular Chinese soap at the start of this year, there was a line in the dialogues: “the older I get, the more I’d felt, that loneliness is the norm, we were born alone, dying, by ourselves……..life is, a journey of desolation.”

Searching the songs on loneliness, there were, five, six hundreds, and as we’d sung those, it seemed, that we’re, destined to be, alone for life.  “The Aging Woman” feared not being married off (the singer, Julia Peng), the unmarried worried about ‘loneliness for the rest of our lives’.” (the singer, Rene Liu, Tiger Huang’s “Not that Easy” to love as we grow older, those who are single feared “the Knot of Christmas” (Eason Chan).  The ancient poetry described this feel in the limited number of words to its best, the words brought the tears to our, eyes, touching our hearts and souls, no matter where the characters are, they’d all, aged and, died, alone, like, the end of being alone is living in misery and dying, in grief.

illustration from UDN.com

W is a friend who’s a police officer, he’d told me, “the cases of suicides I’d worked before, there were the persons who got tired of growing ill, those who lived in despair, the elderly that got abandoned by their, offspring, the invisible in the neighbors’ minds……an assortment of people”.

There’d been the promotions from Starbucks “buy-one-get-one-free”, and I’d, shared with W, a cup of hazelnut latte, as we chatted, we drifted to the “unrelated society” of Japanese culture’s unrelated by blood, not close in geographical distances, unrelated society; some lived in misery, to the end, they’d, become incapable of movement, and got trapped in the electric bed, dying alone, with no one else to see her/him off, living this lifetime in vain.

growing old alone…it doesn’t have to be “depressive”…you can have the friends of your age to share your times with…photo from online

“Certainly, now that I’m retired, I’d stopped, interacting with my coworker on our, shared enemy, our bosses, without the jokes and insults we’d traded with one another, but I’d still, have them come over for tea from time to time,” W told me, “to gossip a bit, seeing how all of them are still alive and living, and healthy, we’d grown older, and we’d, reminisced the years of work we had from before, it’s, a wonderful, thing too.”

“I’m different compared to you, everybody has the time, but, nobody can make the time”, I’d told, “got me tons of friends on FB, but, not that very many with whom I can have heart-to-heart with.  So, how come the older I get, I’d not felt that loneliness is, the norm?”

There are those of my peers who are single (unwed, divorced, without children), they’re all on their own, with NOTHING to tie them down, gone to the bookstores, the movies, alone, to dine out too.  But they would holler to those whom they know, to gather out, to travel together, they’re living their lives in leisure, with ease.

As I can’t get into the social circles of others’, then, maybe, I should, learn to share my conversations with lonely, getting acquainted with it; nothing wrong with lonely, no need to feel isolated or alone, life is, a desolate journey, knowing what loneliness is, it’s something beautiful too.

So, you’d gone from interpreting aging alone, living by yourself, as being lonely, to solitude here, knowing, that it’s okay, that you don’t have someone to share your life with, after all, family isn’t for everybody, and, some of us, choose not to get married, or have children, and there’s NOTHING wrong with that, so long as we’re, comfortable, in our own skins, who’s to criticize, that you will grow old and gray, with NO significant others in your lives?  You can be divorced, unwed, widowed or whatever reasons you are for being single, and still live your lives, colorfully.

Authors from a, Different, Plane of, Reality

On how some of the authors, creators of things, asked too much perfection from themselves, as well as others, that’s made those who worked with and for them, have a, really, difficult, time…translated…

Many a year ago, when I’d worked in the publishing company, I had polarized beliefs about the writers.  On the surfaces, I’d treated everybody equally, tried not to have anyone detect that I have the differential, preferences of treatments toward, someone.  But in actually, just like every parent has a favorite, child, I would treat those writers I liked as friends, and, treated the ones that I disliked, as, bad customers.

Some of the writers I disliked were really, awful too, held the perfectionistic standards for everything, from the number of the very first printing, to the type of paper used for their covers, the prestigiousness of the cover designers, the number of their book promotions, where the promotions should be held, to requesting the editors to be available for casual conversations with them, to go to the hot springs for the soaks, to watch their children for them, to how in the middle of the nights, they’d had the spurs of their inspirations, and texted like crazy to discuss what’s in their, thoughts, to the end of having heart to heart.  Although when I get high, I really get, high, but sometimes, it’d felt, a bit, weird.  Especially when that time my cat got sick, I’d, turned down the writer’s offer, he’d told me in his upset, “what does your cat have to offer you, why don’t you come and have a meal with me!”, I’d, imagined his face into a soccer ball instinctively, then, KICKED it all the way, to Uranus.  And, ever since, this had been my escape, and, when this was at its, worse, I’d, kicked all the writers’ heads, into all nine, planets, to how they’re all, afloat in space!

But that’s, only in my, imaginations, reality is too, cramped up.  One time that’s, most memorable, was when I was about to cross to the other side of the roads, I saw a familiar form, coming towards me from the opposite of the street, before my mind sorted through to tell me who that was, my body, instinctively, dodged behind, that pole.  I’d pinched my thighs really hard, hated how despite how long I’d been working, is still have, so much, growing up, to do, and I can, only, recite that chant that turned me, invisible, prayed that I won’t, get, discovered by the person.  I just got off work, and, my social interaction skills had been, drained to, next to, nil, I just wanted to rush home, and, stuff my nose in my, cats.

After these past few years, I’d finally become, charged to full.  Turned back, to see everybody, and, each and every one had something that’s, cute about her/him.  The excellent writers are mostly, really, highly sensitive, with a ton of demands on themselves, and would, be at difficulties with the outside, actually, it is, truly hard for these persons, after all, what accompanied every one of them, is this, enormous self that demands, nothing but, perfection of the, self.

if we can, be like this guy on the desk, whenever we encounter difficult people at work…then, work will be, a JOY! Photo from online

The author of the volume, “The Condition Called ‘Editor-in-Chief’” said that every writer’s emotions, is stuck in between their highest and lowest, constantly, in a love and hate relationship with their, editors.  Even in the latest book I’d recently, finished of the famed producer from Japan, Toshio Suzuki’s “The Thought Processes of Geniuses: Takahata & Miyazaki”, on how he’d collaborated with both directors for thirty years on end, it was shocking to me.  The two director with the outstanding works, had awful personalities, noted for being the WORST customers EVER, and, all of the employees under them either quit, or, were on the verge of melting down at work, and, the emotional blackmail from both came by the meals toward their, employees.

But, even after there’s a huge altercation to the point of engaging one another physically, that would be all right I guess.  I mean, everybody DIES in the end, and, all that will, survive, are the, best of the works, the worst of works, and, the works that are, somewhere, in the, middle.  The writers of great creativity, can keep on being, great, as for their, individually, hard-to-get-along characters, then, we shall, select whom we will, associate with, if we get along, we get, along, and if we don’t, we, don’t.

So, this showed, how flexible these, editors-in-chief have to be, to be able to, work well with those who are, difficult customers, and, everybody has that “difficult customer” mind inside of them to some, extent, it’s  just, that when these, difficult versions of our own selves, come out to play, if we keep them, suppressed, because we have to, deal with the outside world, because we don’t want to appear too difficult in other people’s, minds, and some of us, we show our truest selves, to the outside, and that’s fine as well too!

The Madagascar Almond

That tree that became a symbol of stability to you, which helped you feel more, settled, and you still found it (although the tree was a whole lot shorter!) in the new school your mother had, transferred you into…translated…

In my elementary years, the location of my classroom, the floor grew higher with my grade levels, the only thing constant, was the Madagascar almond outside of the classroom windows in a row.  In the first grade year, the row of tree trunks to me, was nothing more than a linear khaki colored sight, allowing my classmates and I to run and weave between them during break.

Until second grade, did I note, so, that’s what these trees, looked, like.

from the saplings…that were planted in his new school…photo from online

Layer by layer, the seemingly horizontally even branches, at the end of the tips, the smaller branches started, splitting, with the leaves at the tips, and this pattern kept repeating, upward.  When the sunlight came down, the leaves are twinkling around the trunks, and they’d, swayed, with the teachers’ voice in the, lectures.

From the root of the trunk, elevating to the mid section, I’d calculated, that in another year, I’ll be able to, see the, canopy of the trees then.

And yet, because this came true, I’d, transferred to a new, school.

The new school was newly built up, with the scent of the paint in the air. I was, with my, unsettlement, as I’d, climbed up those, dust-free, steps.

“After school begins, he will be in this classroom”, the unfamiliar instructor told my mother and me.  I’d, gazed upon that undusted with the chalk dust blackboard, the perfectly set in rows desks and chairs, until my eyes stopped, at the other end of the, window of the classroom.

to these tall, tall trees that he and his classmates played, under…photo from online

There, a thin, long branch of the torso of a tree, swayed in the, wind, with the upper most tip, two shiny, green, newly budding leaves, one to the left, the other, to the, right.

Hey, I’d said in my, mind to the tree.

So, this tree that you’d watched as you grew up, through the grades, was the only constant in your, younger, primary education, years, and this particular species of tree is what, settled your heart in and down, and now, you got transferred to a new school, with all the excitement, the unsettlement of the new environment you will be, learning in, and, you now had that tree that was the constant from your old school, to settle you in, how amazing that must be, to find, something that’s, familiar, to help you cope with a brand new, environment you’re about to, start the next stages of your life, in…