Bean There, Fart That

G6PD remains the most obscure piece of information I carry about myself. It's tangible, recorded in black and white on my (rather unkempt) medical records; yet it's something so cryptic to this challenged mind. I find myself pressing down the black-ball point pen in between my thumb and middle-finger, making out the meaningless capital G, number 6, P, and D on the blank next to "Allergies" each time a medical history is wanted of me.

This intolerance I knew of eversince I learned how to dial my grandmother's number, and that just so happened to be fairly early. But it was always just something waved off with one hand, since I only have (had?) what seems to be a "mild case". Have or had, who can even differentiate, since I have never really understood what the four-letter/number word affiliated with my being actually entailed.

My limited inisight on this four letter (okay, that's not quite accurate) anomaly brought me to the hasty conclusion that is an intolerance for all things bean and peas; or kekacang as they more succintly categorize in the Malay tongue. Then again, there was my mom brushing off this condition shared between my brother and I. And that always made it seem okay for me to go ahead and gobble down all the types of beans in the world, if I pleased.

Considering the diet I was accustomed to, that wasn't much; since it only really comprised of long beans, string beans, french beans (the more glamorous appelation for the Malay kacang buncis) and winged beans (or kacang botol). Considering the other fact that I am not a big fan of beans and peas beyond long beans, I thought I was all set. It wasn't until I set my foot here on the North American soil that I find myself face-to-face with copious types of beans and peas. Snow peas, edamame, gorbonzo beans and the likes have became my allies come days when food in the dining halls just seem too unbearable.

Did I quiver as I boldly let my tongue caress those beans before I swallowed them in one big gulp? Did my mind ever entertain the possibility of me breaking out into hives, gasping for air, as the beans shoot their potentially hazardous venom into the red river that is my blood? Did I ever think of the repercussions from G6PD? No, no and no.

And fortunately too, eventhough my knowledge on the intolerance was founded on erroneous details. It is in fact, an enzyme deficiency, and the only bean I am banned for life from consuming is the favia bean. Lucky, lucky me. Stupid, stupid me--for being in the dark for so long. Alas, lucky lucky me again that my mom has wisely/unwisely dismissed my case as a mild one that I was never haunted by a scene of myself having "No air, No air" at a crowded dining table in a foreign land.

And after these two decades, guess what my finest discovery about beans is? No, it isn't quite that I won't die from eating them (since I never believed so, only that was with blind faith).

It is this: Beans, they make me fart. Prooot prrooot. All day and all night long.

Well Hello 'ties!

It ends here, my teen days. I struggle to regurgitate my life experiences thus far, wondering yet again if I have reached milestones that should be reached come this day, for the 20th time.

Retrospection leaves me sullen because I feel like I have not done as much as I should have, tried as hard as I could have, pursued as far as I would have liked. Oft times I wish I were in another's shoe, living another's dream, climbing mountains, going places, creating fiction, crafting breathtaking art . . . anything I'm not.

If time machines are but a creative reverie, I would gladly place myself back in those times when I should have, or shouldn't have. I'd let experience work its miracle backwards, leaving me free from these nagging thoughts that "I should have" or "I could have".

Two decades may not be time enough to prove myself worthy of the world, of course. But yet in this course of my life now, I have met many who seem to carry the world in their hands, so seemingly accomplished. There is so much that hinders me from believing that I am already a woman. And still there is plenty to make me realize there is no place in the world for a childish NJ. A child at heart, perhaps, but not a child of sorts.

There is so much to learn, although I feel like I learn new things every now and then. Today, for instance, I learned that my silly insecurities of not being loved, and being under-appreciated is unfounded. There is love all around me, if only I'd learn to see it. And there is greatness in me, if only I'd learn to use it.

Well hello twenties. I shouldn't be scared of you, should I? As long as this youth blood courses through my veins, I shall seek for my place in this world, my place next to someone, my place in a future. 

This post calls for OAG's Generasiku. Same old same old perhaps, but the song breathes a fresh meaning for me as I grapple with my relatively new and more profound understanding of youth. Let the good (and bad) times roll!

p/s: Thank you for seeing me through my 20 years of life, no matter who you are and which phase of my life we have crossed paths. You wouldn't believe how much meeting each and every one of you have helped define a part of me. Arigatou. Xie xie. Syukran. Terima kasih daun keladi. Praise to the deity for allowing me such passage. Alhamduillah.

Panhandlers Over Love Handles

You stroll leisurely at a pasar malam, and you are greeted by the familiar sight of a makcik shaking a cup of coins, dressed in tatters. She appears to have amputated legs, or a deformity of some sort and perhaps carry a wailing baby. Oh no-s!

You try to avert your gaze and mutter to yourself "Kesiannya", but you worry about the unimaginably long queue for the famous popia basah you are coveting for. So you pick up your pace, look down, and presume that others would spare some change for that pitiful makcik, to assuage that guilty lump in your throat. But you forget that ever happened once you feed your voracious appetite and laugh the evening away.

You are seated in a subway train, armed with your Ipod on full blast, and perhaps also that paperback you've waited a semester to read. The skyline of whatever city you are approaching seems so welcoming, and you imagine the joy of window-shopping that never quite remains window-shopping.

Along comes a reeking middle-aged man clad in a winter coat of patches to your car, distinctly alerting your senses that you are facing a hobo at hand. He asks for a dollar, but you offer a meek smile and shake your head sadly. But you go back to your interesting novel and find no trouble getting yourself engrossed once again in the world of John and Jane or the likes.

My utmost irreverence goes to you if you go through life mastering the art of being nonchalant to people in need. I have had to turn down many beggars, but never once have I done it out of reflex. It is one thing to refuse beggars, but it is another to completely reserve no compassion for them. Of course, sincerity is a key issue, and "charity begins at home", but what is a few sen, a few cents, a ringgit, a dollar compared to the hundreds you can generously endow to multimillion-earning Ebay or Amazon?

The contra argument may be made that the cents we donate go to footing a junkie's drug bills or go to the pockets of creepy bustards of kidnappers, but there is all that we can pray they find the way to righteousness. Yes, I don't know if the woman I gave my quarters to actually has a baby who needs medication, or if the man I gave my USD2 really takes a bus to the shelter. But again, we do what we can.

It may be my pet peeve that I am quick to pity and completely ridiculous that I sometimes act in favor of the underdog just because I feel "kesian" for them. However, I am adamant that one person can help make another's day, even though one may not completely change another's fortune. I am one to go eat at an empty restaurant next to a bustling one, just because I pity them, despite the obvious signaling (to borrow an Economic term) that the busy restaurant probably serves better food. But again, I do what makes me feel better/happy.

We canvass too see change in the political ruckus of our country, we demand for rights from the constitution, we all aim for greatness in our lives. But these panhandlers plead for some change (pun intended) to access their rights to food, medicine, safety, the most basic needs I am pretty confident we have gotten since we demand for so much more. We get frustrated that political leaders heed not to our voices, how do you think people off the streets feel about us who heed not to their concerns?

Obama isn't the only one who wants change (namely the panhandlers) and he certainly isn't the only one who can create change (namely us), you know? In fact, the chap has so much reform to mobilize and expectations to live up to that it is more likely that we can start making change first. Yes you youths, put all angst about love handles (or lack of six-packs) behind you, it is panhandlers that should receive some attention.

No matter where we hail from, and where we are currently leading our lives, change comes from the little things we each do to and for the people around us. Maybe then changing a 329 847km² land wouldn't seem like such a distant idea.

Musings, Revisited

Many atimes I ponder if the world would come to a halt had it been me behind a piercing scream, shattered glass and dead silence as the lights dim out and emotions, lost. A month before, a week before, a day before, an hour before, today, as such. . . it doesn't matter. Impending birthdays bring that sense of uncertainty whether your sense of being creates some sense for the world around you. They make you pause and wonder if there are many more to come. There are dreams to catch, people to love, and lives to lead. How many more fortnightly days of March will I take reign before these are mine for keeps?

Elephant In The Room

Have you heard that elephants don't forget? And like them, I never forget a smell. Now all I ask is if you'd let me not forget you. So speak truth, will I ever get a whiff of you? 100 or so days to come, in my wishful thinking.

Surat Maklum Balas to SL*

Hey you!

I tak tau nak cakap how disappointed I am when you said no to me semalam, tau. But I guess I could feel it in my bones that we weren't a good match. But I gave my all when we borak-borak the other day, and I truly did show you my true colors sebab you cakap you nak get to know me, kan? But lepas I left the room, my heart wasn't racing and my stomach wasn't doing somersaults like it usually does after I tau I aced something. It didn't get that "I hit jackpot" feeling. Not like the time I talked to Darby baby or Banky the hunk, tau. Memang the feeling was different.

Yelah, mana taknya, I rasa macam I bimbo mana duduk dalam bilik tu, surrounded by you and four other friends. "Acquaintances" you cakap, padahal semua judging me, taking notes of my every gesture. Banyak benda kalau boleh I nak cakap kat you haritu. Tapi biasalah, to err is human. Apa I cakap haritu half of what I really felt and wanted tell you. Pendek kata, shit happens all the time, kan?

Frankly, I tak bengang. I faham you had to choose the right person. And I definitely didn't do myself any justice masa kita bersua tempoh hari. Kita tak ada jodoh, what to do, kan? I taknak lah "hidung tak mancung, pipi tersorong-sorong". I shall practice losing with grace, ni.

Actually, nak cakap sikit, you listen, okay? Terharu pun ada you pandang I yang tak seberapa lawa, tak seberapa pandai or tak seberapa impressive ni. Dalam banyak-banyak calon you, you gave me the chance to get know you better, and I can't help but say memang my goal in life is to cari someone like you lah. For now, you're my short term goal, and also long-term, say 20 tahun lagi, memang I see myself alongside someone like you.

Right now, since you dah remukkan impian Sonata musim Panas I dengan you di bumi Amerika Utara ni, hati I nekad untuk cari a pengganti in the place I call home. Home is always where the heart is. And bila I ponder about this again, lagilah I rasa terpanggil nak cuba plan-plan menarik kita di Malaysia. I masih muda, banyak lagi keringat yang boleh I taburkan dekat tanah air I. Mungkin betul orang kata, everything happens for a reason, kan? Maybe banyak benda tunggu I? Maybe this is the best way for both of us?

I can't approach you again, bukan sebab malu, tapi sebab next year I ada plan lain up my sleeves lah. But I doakan that I find somebody like you cuti ni. Kalau tidak, I akan cari orang yang mediocre je, someone I like so-so tapi tak lust for (macam I lust for you), and usha lagi orang-orang macam you.

Always,
NJ

N.B.
SL: Summer Links 2009