Out of My Mind.

This entry is dedicated to all the teachers in the world, new & old, experienced & novice.

Sir Ken Robinson, Out of Our Minds

I finally managed to finished the book that was introduced to me 2 weeks ago, Out of Our Mind by Sir Ken Robinson. I would like to start off by saying what a book!

With all the praises for this book, it would never enough as it changed the way I think and the way I perceive creativity.
I always think that I am a creative person. Growing up, I always love dancing, singing, drawing, and all that artistry activities. School never really sharpen my talents as I am always stuffed with homework and 'more important' subjects. If I didn't join my local church, I probably don't think my talents will launch and bloom. As learning takes me to everywhere other than my home, I am always struggling to find a place to express myself through these things that I love doing.
I get discourage or to be precise, bitter with my talents. For sure I have them but I can't benefit from them.

This book make me realise that I don't need a place or organisations to help me bloom - it would be great if there's a place to help me, but in whatever you do, you can always be creative. You doesn't require a clay, dance floor, or music sheets. All you need is interest and passion for whatever you're doing. Be creative in your own way as creative is very individuaistic.

Sir Ken tries to help you understand your very specific self, from how your brain works and why it is the way it is. Then, to your society, school, organisation, country and the world. He'll show you how all of these knit to each other and they can't stand alone though creativity is personal.

Personally, reading this book is like Moses receiving torah from God. It is a bible for someone that wants to be creative and especially it is for people in teaching profession to realise how creativity is the main key to unlock the students' abilities.
Every discussions that I have in my Master class always I quoted Sir Ken's word or his perspective because I am a believer now. If creativity is a religion, I am the follower, and his book is my bible.

He also revealed why we are so in a dogmatic situation towards grade, intelligence, school, teaching, creativity, and everything in between.

I can't help it to highlight every single wisdom words from the book and note down for the future reference, or more likely for my own reference.

In my opinion, this is the book that every single person, especially people who works with students in any level and disciplines, should read before deciding to be a teacher.

If you think teaching is not as professional job or an easy job, try to inspire at least one person and come back to him again in 5 years whether he still even know your name (or even recognise your face.) If they failed to do so, you are basically wrong by saying it is harder to be an engineer or a doctor. The time, the effort, the involvement in a relationship is much demanding for teacher-student relationship.

Go and learn to be creative.

xoxo

The Uncertainty

The uncertainty,

is here

here to stay

stay longer

longer than the usual

usual being boring

boring is my middle name now. 

The uncertainty, 

on love,

on future,

on myself,

on intention. 

It's out & about in my life now. 

The uncertainty, 

whom I shall seek comfort from? 

compadre? 

nearest & dearest? 

sweetheart? 

moonshine? 

stimulant? 

a roll in the hay? 

job?

melodies? 

Facebook? Twitter? 

Gitchi Manituo? Allah? Yahweh? 

which? 

The uncertainty, 

why does he have to make such a song and dance out of everything?

why am I singing and dancing about it? 

why do I cry thinking of the matter? 

why why why why why why? 

The uncertainty, 

it gaves me realisation,

affection 

courage

heart

confidence 

confidantes 

it's here to stay. 

The uncertainty,

unceremonious it'll be 

taint it'll gives

intact it'll makes me. 

and it ain't the same every time. 

xoxo

Mr. Uncertainty. 

Sexism

My issue: 

When a woman is doing a man's job they are called a strong woman, an independent lady, and inspiring figure. However, when a man is doing woman's job, like cleaning, taking care of the children, or being a nurse, we say that they are feminine guy, sissy, weak, and the list goes on and on. 

My question: WHY? 

Why can't we accept equality among HUMAN, not man nor woman, HUMAN equality. 

Do you think it is easier to become a single dad than a single mom? 

Do you think a man is weak to cry from relationship breakup? 

Do you think it's wrong for a man to greet his wife from work? 

My argument: 

We always talks about women's power. Feminism. 

Yet, when a man is doing 'girly' stuff, we tease them for being such a p***y. Such a girl. Such a WEAK. 

And if you are a woman, you should be ashamed of yourself, because you think a girl is weak. 

That is like spitting up to the air.

And if you are a man, I hope no woman would fall for you. 

My example: 

When I was in secondary school, I always hated my PE class. I admit that I am kaki bangku (can't play football). But for my school, not knowing how to play it is somehow a disease. So, my PE teacher literally forced me to play and if I refuse, he'll cane. I explained to him my kaki bangku situation and asked for permission to play volleyball instead. His answer to me, oh wait for it, 'That's a girl's game.' 

The entire 60 minutes of the chasing ball games, I just stood there in the middle watching the ball being kicked. He never knew that I am good in volleyball, well at least WAY much better than football. 

Another example came from an event a few years back. A friendly conversation turns into an awkward silence and I'm sure a volcanic eruption anger in my inner universe, when someone close to me suggest that I should go to gym to 'build my character.' The rest is history. I rather go to hell if heaven accept people that don't accept me for who I am. My belief taught me how to LOVE. 

We set our world to a lot of laws and regulations, mostly are stupid. 

We darken our students with grades. 

We says only a man should be the head of the organisation. 

We believe an answer to sins is hell. 

We think skirts is for ladies and pants for men. 

Think about this, why we called a coward p***y and a bad man d**k? 

Yet again, we think we are free minded generation. 

Sexism isn't sexi. 

bla bla bla...

I never told you, You never know.

I miss those blue eyes
How you kiss me at night
I miss the way we sleep

Like there's no sunrise
Like the taste of your smile
I miss the way we breathe

But I never told you
What I should have said
No, I never told you
I just held it in

And now,
I miss everything about you
Can't believe that I still want you
And after all the things we've been through
I miss everything about you
Without you

I see your blue eyes
Everytime I close mine
You make it hard to see
Where I belong to
When I'm not around you
It's like I'm alone with me

I miss your blue eyes.

xoxo

the untold story of a sister.

When we talk about the person that we love, we can easily list down hundreds even thousands of things that we like and remember about them.
All the memories, presents, movies, places, dates etc that you gone thru with that particular person are all remembered and carved eternally in your conscious and unconscious mind.
Repeated over and over again in your day dreaming and in your dreams when you're asleep.
For the person that can still hold their love one close to them, they keep on working on building more dreams together.
For those who lose their love one, the memories of yesterday is the only key to unlock the treasure of love with them.
And they would do anything to hold on to that memory and never let go, even they've gone, somewhere reachable or unreachable.

You must be thinking I'm all emo'ed up about teenage love.
No. I am talking about my love towards my brother and sisters.

They were my first best friend.
Being the baby and being three years younger from my sisters, they are the one who took care of me when my parent are away.
So, mostly we do literally everything together.

But today, I'mma write about my eldest sister.

I love her so much.
More than I know and more than anyone could imagine.
However, someone loves her more than I do and needed her more than anyone did.
The angels took my sister up, up and away, to a place where there is no goodbye nor cries.
Leaving us down here wishing upon the stars to retain the memories and trying hard to not lose every lines of her face, every look, every touch, everything.

If she's still around today, I would capture every angle of her with my camera and frame it against the wall.
But sadly, she's gone and all that we've owned is a few old pictures of her.

These, kept us reminded of our beloved sister who once here in our life.

I was very small when they brought back my sister's idled body yet with peaceful face home. I still remember the brownish color hospital car approaching and leaving our little house and leaving her in the middle of the living room.
Next thing I know, the house was filled with weeps and sorrows.

At times of hardship, in the early marriage of my parent, she was the one who's always there with my mom.
When people hated them,
mocking them,
treated them as second graded human being,
when my dad was still young and wild,
when everything was at it worse,
she was there.

These things makes it harder for Mak to say goodbye.

Even until today as you're reading this entry, tears stream down her face when the thought of her came to Mak's mind.

My greatest regret is that I don't remember much about her.
They told that I was her favorite brother,
they told me she loved me so much that she would do anything for me,
they said she would love more than anyone would, if she's here now.

Four events that I remembered about her,

1)

When I made Mak so furious for smashing her glass door cabinet and she forced me to eat all the glasses that I smashed, out of cries, my sister begged Mak not to harm me. She hug me when it's all over and she help to clean the place.
She was there for me.

2)

My sister's friend asked us to take a picture together. Blue shirt against a blue Land Rover truck, smiled just-woke-up-from-afternoon-nap face, as what I remembered. Though the

photo was 'burned', but the moment captured on my mind forever. It was a special ordinary day.

3)

White sheet cotton covering her body. Cotton wool stuffed in her nose and ears. She look so peaceful that day but her peacefulness bring tears to the whole world.
I was sitting on Pak's lap, innocent, blurr, and seems not to understand what is happening. Did I cried? I dunno. I can't recall. Do I want to remind myself that day? No.

4)

Last but not least, and its very funny (at least for me). As I said earlier, my siblings are the one who took care of me and we do everything together. One day, when Pak & Mak was away, 4 of us sit in a circle with gasoline lamp in the middle and Pak's ciggies case. We all puffed the ciggs and promised that we will never tell anyone what happened. And you know what, I told my dad!! All four of us get punishment from my beloved Mak. They promised to themselves that they would never bring me playing again.

These are the only four moment of her that being repeat, peat peat peat over and over again. It only take a few minutes to do so though I wish that I remember more about her.
Despite these short memories, I still cherish it as it gives me a sense of love from a person that I used to know and hope to know more.

I love you sis.
I'll drive to the hill to see you when I get home.

xoxo to you,
Your favorite G.