Saturday, August 27, 2016

I'm currently working part-time in a daycare centre.
I truly feel sorry for the children who has endless account of marathon homework.
They have to 'steal' time to play with each other, in between the slots of the clogged up time-table.
To my amusement, I found one of the boys playing the role of a game master in his made up game.
See how he has meticulously profiled his characters and weapons. 
 The different levels of each item.
 The battlefield.
 I don't really get this, but the idea originates from cheque books.
 The different levels that the players must pass. The game master created an envelope on the left side. I asked him what is it for. "I don't know, just thought I need one."
One of the boys saw that I was taking pictures and he brought his own game book to show me.
 The many choices of weapons.
The imagined battle was created.

I seriously feel that children should be given more time to play.
The games drawn look like a potential foundation thinking board of an 8-year-old boy on his way to creating his own software, or any groundbreaking invention.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

The story of a Bangkok homeless man who returned a lost wallet with THB20,000 cash inside it went viral this week as the honest man was simply rewarded with a new life, job and home.
Facebook user Tarika Patty said the homeless man, whose name was not mentioned, had returned her boyfriend’s wallet on Monday although the man barely had money and had been living on the street for over a year.

Tarika said her boyfriend dropped his wallet without his knowledge. The homeless man did see the incident and tried to give the wallet back, but unfortunately, he couldn’t catch up with Tarika’s boyfriend in time.
Not losing hope, the homeless went to the police station and asked for their help in finding the man, and succeeded in doing so. Tarika’s boyfriend was so thankful that he repaid the man for his kindness with a job and a place to stay when he learned that the guy had been out of work for a year and used Huay Kwang MRT station as a place to sleep.
Information as to what job he was given or where he is  staying is unknown as of the moment, but Tarika posted an update of the story a day later.
She wrote: “Update on the uncle. He is well and eating healthy. He was asking if this was all a dream. Haha. Doing good can certainly make one very happy in life.”
She posted pictures of herself taking him out shopping for clothes, as well as a picture of him in his new home, sitting on a bed and smiling at the camera. It’s certainly nice to be reminded that there is some good in the world.

Taken entirely from
At the age of 21, Hawking started developing symptoms of ALS, or amyotrphic lateral sclerosis, a disease that doctors claimed would take his life in about two and a half years.  Now 74, Hawking is a huge inspiration for those with disabilities, as he continues to teach, research, and provide profound wisdoms for the rest of us to ponder.

After his diagnosis, Hawking says that he had absolutely no expectations for life.  But he didn’t let it deter him from doing his best to live fully and passionately.  He has twelve honorary degrees and has built a life dedicated to the study of theoretical physics, including robust theories on creation, the Big Bang and the universe.

Depression is a subject that Hawking recently commented on at a lecture in London at the Royal Institute, likening the condition to a black hole:

“The message of this lecture is that black holes ain’t as black as they are painted. They are not the eternal prisons they were once thought. Things can get out of a black hole both on the outside and possibly to another universe. So if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up; there’s a way out”

Furthermore, when asked about his disabilities and the effect they have on his outlook on life, he responded beautifully:
“The victim should have the right to end his life, if he wants. But I think it would be a great mistake. However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at.While there’s life, there is hope.”

He would further this sentiment with a heartfelt message for those with disabilities like himself:

“If you are disabled, it is probably not your fault, but it is no good blaming the world or expecting it to take pity on you. One has to have a positive attitude and must make the best of the situation that one finds oneself in; if one is physically disabled, one cannot afford to be psychologically disabled as well. In my opinion, one should concentrate on activities in which one’s physical disability will not present a serious handicap. I am afraid that Olympic Games for the disabled do not appeal to me, but it is easy for me to say that because I never liked athletics anyway. On the other hand, science is a very good area for disabled people because it goes on mainly in the mind. Of course, most kinds of experimental work are probably ruled out for most such people, but theoretical work is almost ideal.

My disabilities have not been a significant handicap in my field, which is theoretical physics. Indeed, they have helped me in a way by shielding me from lecturing and administrative work that I would otherwise have been involved in. I have managed, however, only because of the large amount of help I have received from my wife, children, colleagues and students. I find that people in general are very ready to help, but you should encourage them to feel that their efforts to aid you are worthwhile by doing as well as you possibly can.

A LETTER recently sent to me by my brother Kah Fai who has Down Syndrome was enclosed in the envelope above. The writing on the envelope was hardly legible and the erratically placed stamps did little to assist the postman in deciphering the address of the recipient.

Nevertheless, the staff of Pos Malaysia, from the receiving office to the sorting hall to the postman on wheels, have gone beyond reasonable expectations to ensure that the letter was delivered to the right address across the South China Sea.

Simple acts like this by the unsung everyday heroes of Malaysia restore hope at a time when political uncertainty and economic anxiety reign.

For as long as we have Malaysians who take pride in their work and discharge their duties responsibly, there is hope for this country of ours.
I hereby express my thanks and respect for the staff of Pos Malaysia.

By B.L. Acker
What I Need From You When I Talk About My Suicidal Ideation

I’d like to begin by stating I am not currently suicidal.

I am writing not about any plan to kill myself, but rather about those lingering thoughts that haunt not only me, but others suffering from depression as well. Suicidal ideation is a taboo topic, not allowed in most groups for fear of triggering others and being misunderstood by anyone who has not suffered themselves.

Most people who have depression know these feelings well. It’s that little voice, that devil on your shoulder, that constant companion who overstays their welcome like an unwanted house guest. It internalizes everything in my life and makes me feel helpless, my life hopeless. It is the constant weight on my chest controlling my every breath, the elephant in the room I cannot ignore.

There are times I greet that little demon on my shoulder as I would an old friend. It has been there more consistently than any friendship and has been the only one to offer any real “solution” to my continuous suffering. I know, however, this demon is a bully. It does not care for me and is not looking out for my best interests. It is ever present, always badgering, forever insistent that giving up is the only way to stop the pain.

That demon is the personification of all the trauma and abuses I have endured. It wants me to give up. It wants me to fail. It wants to win.

I cannot tell you the number of times over the years I have written out my goodbyes to people I loved, apologizing for being me, the mess I am. I apologize for not being strong enough, good enough, for just not being enough. I have cried, “No more. No mas. Please, make all this pain stop.” I have begged for those I loved to not give me another thought because I’m truly not worth it.

I admittedly have daydreamed about acting on my thoughts many times. I imagine those final moments, knowing my pain would finally be over, drifting away. Where other people fantasize about far off, white sandy beaches or beautiful crisp nights under a starry sky, my bliss is simply a world where I am no longer suffering and no longer in pain. When life feels unbearable, a piece of me longs to surrender to that inner voice, to say, “You win!” and just fade away.

Anyone who has not walked in my shoes cannot understand what it’s like to constantly battle my own brain, my own thoughts and emotions. They cannot comprehend having an inner voice who is always poking at me, telling me I’m not enough, that life will never get better and that this pain will never stop. When I’ve spent years in constant torment, any escape seems almost blissful.

I’m constantly haunted by these feelings while simultaneously being afraid to speak about them. The hardest part about having these feelings is that I’ve never been able to talk openly about them. The moment I verbalize having these thoughts, even if I do not intend to act on them, there’s the very real fear people will panic me for my own safety. People are comfortable with me suffering in silence, but panic when any of the despair I feel every day spills out. Rather than let me acknowledge and discuss these feelings, some will ultimately try to use my vulnerability against me.

Perhaps worse than those who want to lock me away out of panic are the naysayers and the minimizers. Those who have never suffered through depression assume expressing these thoughts is akin to having a pity party. If I even bring up these thoughts, some people accuse me of wanting to take the “coward’s way out.” I’m accused of being a drama queen. Some people swear I’m not serious or even dare me to follow through, declaring I only want attention.

Others cannot grasp I’d even consider giving up on life. They assure me my life cannot possibly be as horrible as it seems right now. They toss out cliches about there being a rainbow after the storm, encourage me to keep my head up or that things can only go up from here.

There needs to be a middle ground where everyone feeling this way, myself included, can openly discuss our feelings, without fear of judgment, rejection or being locked away against our will for using one of those trigger words that make others uncomfortable. Thinking about suicide does not always mean we are actively planning to kill ourselves. Finding bliss in the thought of there being an end to our suffering does not mean we intend to follow through with it. Many times suicides occur because someone has been suffering alone, without a voice, for so long that their demons begin to make sense. If left alone with our demons long enough, some will succumb to their will.

Those who want to talk are still trying to survive their battles. Suicide often occurs when someone loses the will to talk or to fight. Listening non-judgmentally to us venting our feelings of hopelessness and helplessness, while moderately uncomfortable to you, may save our lives in the long run. It lets us know we are not alone and validates our voices.

We would not be reaching out if we did not want help. We would not be speaking up if we didn’t want to fight, want to survive. We’re putting our trust in you by letting you see us at our most vulnerable. Please, do not let us down.

Taken entirely from The

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The above pic was taken one early morning.
I witnessed an elderly man transporting his heavy wares on bicycle.
I always feel very humbled when I see how people are striving hard for life, playing their cards the best possible.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

From the series, ELEMENTARY

Joan Watson : Found it in a second hand store. It's dark and it's not for everyone, but I thought it's very you. Just want to let want to let you know I was thinking of you.

So nice to read something familiar on my current favourite series.

Tuesday, August 09, 2016

Vanderlei de Lima, who the lit Olympic cauldron to ignite the first Games in South America, is not a gold medalist. Nor a legendary Brazilian champion.
The Olympic creed states: "The important thing in life is not the triumph, but the fight; the essential thing is not to have won, but to have fought well."

At the 2004 Athens Olympics, a defrocked Irish priest infamously grabbed de Lima with about four miles left, taking him into a crowd along the route for a few seconds before a 53-year-old Athens salesman hopped over a barrier to help pull the intruder off de Lima.

But de Lima held on for the bronze medal, memorably blowing kisses in the final stretch and breaking into an airplane motion with his arms while deliberately swerving back and forth. He showed no disdain toward what had happened 20 minutes earlier.

“It was a moment of overcoming obstacles and of dreams coming true,” de Lima recalled in a 2008 NBC Olympics profile.
De Lima would be honored later that night at the medal ceremony before the Closing Ceremony. In addition to his bronze, he was awarded the Pierre de Coubertin medal, named after the founder of the modern Olympics, for “exceptional demonstration of fair play and Olympic values.”
That medal is exponentially rarer than a gold medal – given on average less than once per Olympics since its creation in 1964.
And now de Lima is the first person to complete this triple – Olympic medal, Pierre de Coubertin medal and final torch bearer.
Taken from

Saturday, August 06, 2016

Am currently loving this tv series 'Lie to me's theme song, Brand new day.

Send me a sign
Turn back the clock
Give me some time
I need to break out
And make a new name
Let's open our eyes
To the brand new day
It's a brand new day

Friday, August 05, 2016


With seven suicides in her family — including those of her writer grandfather Ernest and her supermodel sister Margaux — Mariel Hemingway hasn’t just been affected by depression and suicide. She has been besieged by it.
This history is why the actress, the youngest daughter of Ernest Hemingway’s son Jack and famous for such films as “Manhattan,” “Personal Best,” “Star 80” and “The Mean Season,” has spent the last several years speaking as a mental health and wellness advocate.

“I started to realize I had a great understanding of the whole space,” says Hemingway, who was in South Florida recently to speak at State of Recovery 2016, a conference held at the Diplomat Resort & Spa in Hollywood on behavioral health care. “I was drawn to being able to tell a story so that other people don’t feel alone, so they don’t feel isolated inside the darkness — because there is so much darkness when you don’t speak about it, and there’s so much hope and light in recovery if you’re able to tell your story.”

Hemingway, 54, the divorced mother of two grown daughters, is remarkably friendly and upbeat for someone whose family practically defines the phrase “troubled past,” but then, she has dedicated herself to a search for peace (“I’ve traveled to different countries. I’ve chanted. I’ve done primal scream. I’ve eaten every way, and I’ve exercised too much — I’ve tried to find all the different avenues to create balance”). She has long promoted lifestyle balance and wellness, but her public transformation to mental health advocate began several years ago, when a friend at OWN suggested she make a documentary about her family (her eldest sister, Joan, suffers from bipolar disorder and schizophrenia).
At first, Hemingway demurred. But on further reflection, she realized the merit in such a work — and grabbed the chance to reflect on her past in a positive light.

“I did suffer depression myself; it wasn’t clinical depression, but I had a genetic predisposition for it,” she says. “I grew up watching a family that was completely amazing and creative but also destructive and self medicating. All of them, they were addicts. I didn’t want to end up like that. I was on a mission.”
Last year, Hemingway, who had published self-help books on such subjects as yoga and healthy eating, continued what she calls her “journey” by publishing two memoirs: “Out Came the Sun: Overcoming the Legacy of Mental Illness, Addiction, and Suicide in My Family” and “Invisible Girl,” written diary-style and aimed at teenagers, both co-written by Ben Greenman.

The fact that her family never spoke of their issues — Hemingway believes her grandfather, who shot himself four months before she was born in 1961, suffered from undiagnosed bipolar disorder — only makes her more determined to tell her story. Despite living in more transparent times, she believes the stigma against depression is alive and thriving.

“There’s still a stigma,” she says. “It’s funny, because I’m such a healthy, balanced person now. But with people in the industry, because of a couple of stories that came out, they were like, ‘I don’t know if we can hire her — isn’t she depressed?’ But you can be a drug addict or you can beat your wife or husband, you can do all kinds of crazy stuff and still get hired, still get a promotion. But even now, when you talk about mental health, people are really afraid, because it’s too close to home. Everybody has to deal with mental health issues at some level.”