I Hope You're Happy, MJ!

I was never a big fan of Michael Jackson. Sure, I knew his songs and all but. I guess I neither liked him nor disliked him. He was just another celebrity to me... until he passed away.

I was on my way to work at around 7.30am on June 26th when I heard Hitz.fm announce that Michael had suffered a cardiac arrest and had passed away; I immediately got goose bumps. I couldn't wait to get off work and rush home to  watch CNN.  My mom kept texting me to tell me the latest news. 

Through the entire weekend, my eyes were glued to the TV set but instead of watching MTV or Star World, I was watching BBC and CNN just flicking for news on Michael. Never have i watched that much news. I even learnt the names of the reporters.

I slept late almost every night for the next week just watching absolutely anything that had to do with Michael. Of course within the next 36 hours after his passing MTV and other entertainment channels had adjusted their programs to everything the had related to him. 

I watched his videos over and over and over again - I never got bored. I learnt (discovered) so much about this man who was so misunderstood. I actually came to really love this stranger. I never knew him when he was alive - it's my loss. 

He was such an incredibly talented, misunderstood person. The media completely took advantage of his flaws and destroyed him. We're all flawed. Like all human beings, he tried valiantly to hide his flaws. Human nature. Not unlike most people, he probably missed the memo that people need to be loved for our flaws, not in spite of them. Only when people know your good points and bad can they love you truly and sincerely (and save you from  yourself). Imagine being brought up under the spotlight and having every single aspect of your life splashed everywhere possible for the whole (equally if not more flawed) world to scrutinize and judge. 

I believe that Michael was innocent. People manipulated him and for that, I think they should  not be forgives. In a way, we are all the cause of his demise. Maybe we were puzzled by the love he offered as it was simple and asked for almost nothing in return except to be reflected. I think we've become so accustomed to complex things that we failed to understand something as simple as unconditional love that asked for very little in return.

I think it's in our wiring, as human beings, to take pleasure in the heartache of others. It is a flaw. It is nothing to be proud of. Having the ability to hurt another person, be it physically, emotionally or mentally, is not the best talent or gift to have. No point bothering to 'perfect' it.

Michael was hurt by everyone, except children, which is why - I believe - he loved them. He was so so hurt by his father, and everyone around him who deprived him or suppressed him but being as divine as he was, he couldn't bring himself to hurt others. Perhaps he understood the domino affect of pain, hurt and suffering and he didn't want to be a part of it in any way. So, he became self-destructive, in a way. He pushed himself way beyond the normal  human limit and in the end, his body couldn't keep up with him.

I like to believe he was an angel god sent to Earth to bless and we abused the gift just because it wasn't wrapped the way we expect gifts to be wrapped. We were weirded out by his wrapping and decided it was awkward and just not 'normal' (what does normal even mean anyway?). We torn the wrapping a little too roughly and ended up damaging the gift. 

Maybe it's our human inability to accept such gifts as Michael Jackson. Or maybe it's jealousy and envy that blinded us so ridiculously. It's odd though how we manage to push all extraordinary people away while they're alive but hail them after they pass on.

Today is two weeks since Michael's passing. I still hear his songs in my mind. I only began listening to his songs when he passed and now i can't get them out of my head. It's amazing how just his death has had such an impact on me. Even in his death, he has touched me. 

He offered love. True, unconditional love. And he offered it to anyone. I think it broke his heart that not everyone embraced it and that some people distorted it and through it back on his face.

It's a little odd, I'll admit, but I feel loved by him. I don't think there's ever going to be a day when I don't think about him or miss him. True, I never really knew this beautiful gift until he went back to the Creator, but somehow, he has touched me through his life and songs. 

In just a matter of hours after his tragic passing, he taught me and forced me to realize things I never even imagined before. He did it all through his songs and his pure goodness in the way he tried to live his life. He made me laugh, cry, giggle and think. I think I learnt more - in terms of living peacefully with everyone and giving without expecting anything in return - in those few days after his passing than I ever could if I spent 20 years of my life doing research on those topics.

It's hard to explain and I don't think I'll ever understand - and I'm actually okay with that. It is quite odd how someone so misunderstood somehow made me feel a little more loved and a little more human through his life. 

I don't regret many things. I don't think I've ever regretted anything, really. At least I didn't until I learnt things about this beautiful man and how he just wanted to love and be loved in return. I regret not knowing him when he was still alive. I regret never knowing him so that I could appreciate him while he was still here with us, gracing us with his talents.

We're all people. The world is made up of the rich and famous, the poor and ignored. It takes every kind possible to make this world. We really should learn to appreciate everyone - flaws and all. What's the point in loving and appreciating them after they're gone?

He was a king, a superstar, an extraordinary entertainer, a dancer, a father, a director, a creator, a writer, and a perfectionist among other things. With all those dominating things, I think we forgot to remember that  more than anything, Michael Jackson was human.

English & Maths Tution

Hey there. I'm giving tuition for students aged between 7 to 9 years old who are in the Malaysian education system.

Classes are once a week and lasts for 1.5 hours.

Rm40/month

email me at: roxannecassie@aim.com if you're interested. 

thank you.

Dear Cocoa

Dear Cocoa,

Hey, how've you been?

Tell me. I really really wanna know

I care

You don't have to give me a textbook answer.

I can take rants and vents

I'm a big girl.

I've been thinking

About the first time I met you

'Can you help clear up?' you asked

I obliged.

Do you remember that, cocoa?

It's fine if you don't

You're not in trouble.

Smile.

As I was saying,

How are you?

What do you fill your days with?

Besides work, of course.

Smile!

You know,

I don't know your middle name.

What is it?

What's you favourite colour?

Who did you look up to when you were younger?

Do you have a mentor?

How did you feel the morning of your wedding?

Where you scared?

When was your first kiss?

I was six - you couldn't have started earlier than me.

Do you remember his name?

What you were wearing?

I don't know where these are coming from

I just realized

How much I don't know about you

And it made me a little sad.

So I decided to write you this

Even if it's just to make you smile

Hopefully this does.

Smile!

Cocoa,

There's this song

Broken Strings by James Morrison

Vous ne pouvez pas jouer sur les cordes cassées. 

vous ne pouvez pas se sentir tout ce

qui votre coeur ne veut pas se sentir

je ne peux pas te dire quelque chose qui n'est pas vraie

I think it sounds even better in French than English

In English he's saying

That we can't play on broken strings

We can only feel what our hearts feel

We can't imagine feelings

It can't tell us something that isn't real.

It's a beautiful song

And it's in English

My friend sent it to me in French

It was how he broke up with me

We got back together again

Smile, Cocoa!

Listen

You're important to me

I respect you

And I want in my life

For as long as possible

It's probably a bit unfair

But I guess in a way

I've placed you on a high rank

And it hurts when you fall short

But you'll never know that

And you'll never know when.

It's funny

How I'm secretly afraid of you

And our friendship

It hasn't got anything to do with me trusting you

But it isn't paranoia either.

I don't really know what it is;

Wish I did.

Even with that,

You're still the first person who comes to my mind

When something comes up

Exciting or not quite so.

When this guy

Ran his hand through my hair

And kissed me

In the cinema

My first thought was

'I have to tell Cocoa right now

that this boy just kissed me!'

I didn't though - 

I lost my nerve

And didn't want you to say

That you're disappointed that

I put myself in that situation

Cause to me

It was magical

And I liked it

Even if all he wanted from me

Was a quickie

At that moment

This boy just kissed me

And it felt good

And right

And I just wanted to share it

With my close,

safe, trustable,

non - judgemental

Friend

But I think I was afraid that

You would think or feel other wise

And I couldn't bear you to be annoyed

With me

At that point.

I just wanted to run to you

And give you a hug

And spill everything

I couldn't find you though, Cocoa.

I know you're busy

So I let it go

But still 

It would've been so nice

To tell you.

Smile!

I missed you, Cocoa.

I miss you all the time.

Even those rare times when I actually see you.

It's strange.

All said

I know you're only human

And though I imagine you

With super powers

You're just human

And have limits

And i'm very sorry

For testing them

And for putting you through tests

And for getting heartbroken

When you didn't pass them.

And for playing games with you

For all the pushing and pulling.

I think at one point 

I wanted you to leave

I was hurt

And everytime I thought of you

It hurt even more

There's so many things

Left unsaid

And it was hard

Seeing its trace.

Right now though

I think I quite like 

Where we're at

Do you?

I like that I can talk to you

And not guard my words

As if I ever did anyway

But like

No offence!

It's nicer being friends with you

Than working for you

And obeying your rules

I don't do well with rules

I think it's part of my claustrophobia

Smile!

I like being able to talk to you

About the current people in my life

And silly stories

They have to tell - 

We have to tell.

I hope you don't get tired of me

And my antiques

This is me:

Quickly bored,

Never satisfied,

Eccentric,

Ridiculously vulnerable but extremely guarded,

Hidden though completely predictable,

Noisily silent,

Quietly loud,

At the brink but empty,

Trying to breathe while holding my breath,

Often winning when losing,

Possessive, obsessive.

In a nutshell,

I'm me and

I LOVE YOU.

~l'extrémité~

Tissue Box

I spoke to someone not so long ago. We talked, or more like I talked and she listened. She managed to find some sense amidst my tangled webs and finally, at the end of our conversation she explained:

You're like a tissue box. See this tissue box? It has many sides and each side has a different picture - like you. You have different sides and you show certain people certain sides. No one ever really sees all your sides cause it just isn't possible. It is impossible to look at a tissue box and see all it sides at the same time. Only when you turn it, can you see it. 

But you, my dear, only show what you want to show - and that's fine but it makes it difficult to be completely confident and at ease sometimes, doesn't it? No one can feel self assured when parts of them are not focused. It's just like being wholehearted about things. When you do something wholeheartedly, it turns out well a lot of the time, unless of course it's not meant to for some reason or other. If you're not completely into it, even if you really want it to, it usually never ends well.

Being like a tissue box isn't a bad thing. But when it starts to affect you cause you can't keep up with yourself, then maybe it's time to make a change.

I wasn't thrilled about being compared to a tissue box (it was kleenex, with Winnie the pooh and everything) but it made sense and made me see myself or more like how I tend to look or seem to the people a round me. It got me thinking on how complex we as people can be. Maybe it has something to do with the way we're wired or maybe, it's just that we are only able to make sense of complicated things. Like we're so used to complex things that when something is simple, we have to complicate it to understand it. But of course, complicating simple things isn't the best of ideas.

Life's complicated enough and I guess we should be elated when something simple comes our way but (I blame it on our mechanism) we just can't seem to accept simple things. Like love that comes our way asking for nothing in return.

(ps- Crispina Denise RAPED my ass to write this!)

Cocoa-nut dreams

Well what do ya know? I'm back here again. not that i really blogged here to begin with anyway but since cris somehow reminded me i have an account here... i guess i should actually make use of it.

Loads of stuff has been happening - as always. The drama never ends; secretly, i absolutely love it. Maybe not so much the drama but definitely the attention. One of my flaws perhaps. Last Tuesday (4/14) was Vasakhi (Sikh new year) and i went to this party that has amazing food. But that isn't the point. There was this guy (who I've never met before that day) whose eyes seemed to be on me the whole night and i was fully aware of it.
After Vasakhi dinner, me and my sister and a friends went over to SoHo's but just ended up having Coke and trying to talk with the blasting music. Our friend's boyfriend is the DJ there so we didn't have to pay for anything.
So anyway, this guy, H*, came up to me and asked my name. H* is our friend's older brother so it was pretty weird. And get this: he's 27! When i got home that night, my sister told me that earlier that night - during dinner - he had already gone up to her and asked her how old i was. my sister being protective just told him to fuck off. No surprise.
I have to admit though, i was flattered that i actually caught his attention but i wasn't completely surprised when my sister enlightened me. I have this weird sensing about things like that. and like i actually looked him up on facebook and all but like now, idk... i feel kinda weird about it all. like he wanted to meet up last weekend and i said no cause i thought it was too soon and like i didn't wanna do anything stupid with him but like today, it just didn't feel right.
SIGH.
i hate how confusing men and their stupid penises can be. and yet how addicted i tend to get.
Maybe it's a good thing school's reopening tomorrow; gotta start prepping for exams (June).

Boysboysboys.

Toodles...
xoxo

taylor mali's miracle worker

Miracle Workersby Taylor Mali (www.taylormali.com)

Sunday nights I lie awake—as all teachers do—and wait for sleep to comelike the last student in my class to arrive.My grading is done, my lesson plans are in order,and still sleep wanders the hallways like Lower School music.I’m a teacher. This is what I do.
Like a painter paints, or a sculptor sculpts,a preacher preaches, and a teacher teaches.This is what we do.Experts in the art of explanation:I know the difference between questionsto answer and questions to ask.

What do you think?

If two boys are fighting, I break it up.But if two girls are fighting, I wait until it’s over and then drag what’s left to the nurse’s office.I’m not your mother, or your father,or your jailer, or your torturer,or your biggest fan in the whole wide world even if sometimes I am all of these things.I know you can do these things I make you do.That’s why I make you do them.I’m a teacher.

This is what I do.

A homeless man asked me for change on the street one night when my pockets were empty.“Come on man, it’s Christmas,” he pleaded,and I knew I had become a teacher for better or worse when I spun on my heelsand barked: What did I just say?

Don’t make me repeat myself!
In the quiet hours of the dawnI write assignment sheets and print themwithout spell checking them. Because I’m a teacher,and teachers don’t make spelling mistakes.So yes, as a matter of fact, the new dress codwill apply to all members of the 5th, 6th, and 78th grades;and if you need an extension on your 55-paragraph essaysexamining The Pubic Wars from an hysterical perspectiveyou may have only until January 331st.I trust that won’t be a problem for anyone?

I like to lecture on love and speak on responsibility.I hold forth on humility, compassion, eloquence, and honesty.And when my students ask, “Are we going to be responsible for this?”I say, If not you, then who?You think my generation will be responsible?We’re the ones who got you into this mess, now you are our only hope.And when they say, “What we meant was,

‘Will we be tested on this?’”

I say Every single day of your lives!

Once, I put a pencil on the desk of a student who was digging in her backpack for a pencil.But she didn’t see me do it, so when I walkedto the other side of the room and she raised her hand and asked if she could borrow a pencil,I intoned, In the name of Socrates and Jesus, and all the gods of teaching,I declare you already possess everything you will ever need!Shazzam!“You are the weirdest teacher I have ever—”Then she saw the pencil on her desk and screamed.“You’re a miracle worker!

How did you do that?”
I just gave you what I knew you neededbefore you had to ask for it.

Education is the miracle,

I’m just the worker.

But I’m a teacher.

And that’s what we do.

hmm...

i'm missing someone terribly...
maybe i shouldn't...
maybe i should....
maybe i have no right no miss the person....
maybe it's my birth right...
who knows really?
i want to scream out to this person...
tell the person everything that's on the tip of my tongue...
but i'm too afraid...
too afraid to not be heard...
i'm tired...
i want to move on...
but it's so hard to walk away...
everytime i try...
i somehow walk back to the person...
and all i thought we shared....
it's stupid...
isn't it?
no...
you know what?
it's not...
why do you this to me?
why do i let you?
i'm rising above...
or at least i'm trying to...
i hate you....
(that's a lie)
i can't hate you..

i don't know what i'm doing with you anymore...
maybe i never did...
i just liked knowing you were there...
maybe that's the biggest mistake i've ever made...
maybe it's the best...

screw it....
this is sounding like a love poem or something...
totally not...
maybe that's my problem...
i can't help associating our friendship..... with love...
maybe that's why this has to happen...
maybe this is really all there is...
maybe...