Scientists are a strange bunch of people, and their ideologies have led to the most incredible discoveries of all time. Unfortunately, some famous scientists were dismissed as morons during their time as many suffered from mental disorders that were not well-understood at the time. In recent times, however, we recognize them as geniuses. But were […]
Crazy Genius or Geniusly Crazy? 6 Real-Life Mad Scientists with Peculiar Habits — Aisles of Life
If you missed the train I’m on…
… you will know that I’m gone. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles… I love this song 🛤️🚃
how many times
have one missed the train
to one’s dream girl or boy?
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how many times
have one missed opportunities
to one’s dream job or career?
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by then you will know
that I am gone…
as the train or life track differs.
*****
and you can hear
the whistle blows
a hundred miles…
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Quote;-
The only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss the one before it.- Gilbert K. Chesterton
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CLASSMATES AND THE TRICKERY OF LIFE
Got this (forwarded many times) from an old classmates through my group chat.
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There is something both amusing and tragic about classmates.
When we are young, sitting side by side on stiff wooden desks, everything feels equal. We wear the same uniforms, complain about the same teachers, and dream the same big dreams.
We believe that with the foolish confidence of youth, that life will reward us fairly. That the one who topped the class will top in life, that the one who struggled will always struggle, that effort will always equal success.
But life is not a classroom. Life is a trickster, a mischievous storyteller who loves to plot twists.
Then, one day, years later, we meet again at ordinations, weddings, funerals, airports, or by accident at a supermarket. And suddenly, we see what nobody warned us about.
The boy who never did his assignments now owns a mansion. The one who won all the academic prizes is still searching for relevance.
The one who was always quiet now commands boardrooms, while the one who once led every debate now sits in silence, waiting for an opportunity that refuses to come.
And we ask ourselves: How did this happen?
Nobody told us that life does not follow the rules of the classroom. That hard work is important, but so is luck. That intelligence is valuable, but connections sometimes matter more.
That some rise not because they are the best, but because they were in the right place at the right time. That life does not grade us like exam scripts. It rolls the dice, and sometimes, the results are baffling.
There is a good side to all of these: no matter how far life scatters us, when classmates meet again, the years disappear.
Titles do not matter.
Bank accounts do not speak.
We laugh over memories of forgotten nicknames, of teachers we swore we would never forget but now struggle to remember. For a brief moment, we return to a time when we were just young with dreams before life stepped in with its unexpected script.
*And just maybe, that is the real lesson: success is not just about who has more, but about who still has a heart that can remember.*
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This reminds me about the quote:-
It is not what you know but who you know in life.
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Genogram: The genes in family trees (Senyru)
Some family genes
are generational curse
mental illness’s one.
*****
Breast cancers repeat
among aunties and siblings
Will I get it, too?
*******
Strokes and heart attacks!
Diabetes in family
Hypertension’s twin.
*****
Mum and dad died young.
Will I take after grand-dad
in longevity?
******
Plot the genogram
Work on escaping clutches
of these heritages!
******
Quote:
A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Exploring the Use of Genograms in Social Work Practice.
I write, I type, I swype.
“This, is the worst handwriting I have ever seen!… Who is this boy, XYZ?” The teacher waved the exercise book in the air. He looked left, and he looked to the right of the classroom.
XYZ stood up. But the teacher did not see her. ” Where is XYZ?” So the boys at the back pointed towards the girl.
“You? You are XYZ? (His voice softened a bit, but still disapprovingly) You must improve your handwriting. It is like ‘cakar ayam’ (chicken scribblings)!”
XYZ’s handwritings has improved a lot since, after that initial public embarrassment. But that was after many hours, many days of determined practices
Don’t judge a person by one’s handwriting. Bad handwritings don’t always reflect a male’s work! Or only ladies have nice handwritings!
But today, we don’t need to write so much, right? We type most of the time on computers and on mobile. My hand has almost forgotten how to write.
Then comes the mobile and swyping apps. “I watched you from behind your shoulder. You can type so much and so fast on your mobile! You were sweeping all over the little screen! How did you do that?”
“I swyped, that’s why!” A note on blogging comments. I swyped the ‘correct’ words, but it was published, a totally different words! 🤦 it was so embarrassing. I wish the receiver blogger would edit it when prompted from my end. Failing which, I wasn’t keen to comment on her/ his posts thereafter.
So, happy writing, typing, or swyping, whatever!
Viewers versus players (a Senryū)
In front of the box,
screaming in frenzy, but you
are not the players!
This Senryu observes the frenzied enthusiasm displayed more so by viewers than the player themselves.
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Quotes:
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Remembering mum as a gentle and caring nurse
This is a touching piece by Prof. Khairulmaini Osman Salleh ( a former classmate of mine) about his mother, Aini Bte Ahmad, who was an assistant nurse (special grade).
A cherished moment with my late mother.
I remembered asking her about sowing beans. She explained that when beans are planted, several processes occur. First, the seeds absorb water and swell, beginning the process known as germination. As the seed coat breaks open, a small root, called a radicle, emerges, starting to grow downward into the soil to anchor the plant and absorb nutrients and water.
Simultaneously, a shoot emerges upward towards the light, eventually breaking through the soil surface. As the plant develops, it forms leaves that enable photosynthesis, allowing the plant to produce energy for further growth. This cycle continues as the plant matures, ultimately producing more beans, completing the growth cycle.
Mothers, they know things!
Note: Btw my late mum started off as a mid-wife aka bidan. She travelled all over Negri Sembilan to deliver babies, during those times i remember life was really hard irrespective who we were.
Ms Chen, i am sorry for your troubles, i just felt that my mum as a nurse she was always there for people irrespective of who they are, i only want to remember her as the gentle and caring nurse that she was.
Ms. Chen: Prof. Khairul, I am touched by the way you remember your mum!
Unconditionally yours
******* a Senyru poem**********
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reporting duty
chauffeured by father daily
to a food outlet
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a master degree
but any job is fine for
he needs therapy
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Papa sits waiting
sips coffee, reads newspaper
four hours the most
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Mother and daughter
she works alongside her girl
washing the dishes
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these two mum and dad
supported their adult child
first few weeks at work
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One with bipolar
and one with schizophrenia
parenting for life
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Seeing these two parents’ support for their adult children’s needs during their rehabilitation journey tells how unconditionally a parent’s love can be.
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One must not forget also the supported- employment opportunity created by kind employers and governmental policies on employment for people with different abilities.
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Big man, ‘small heart’!
So much hype about vaccination in recent days. This reminds me of an incident many years ago.
There was this big-sized policeman in an emergency department. He was involved in a minor motor vehicle accident. When the nurse was about to give him an injection on his arm, he jumped out of his bed.
“No, no, no! Not on my arm… maybe my buttock. But wait, wait first!” It took some time before he exposed his back.
“No, no, no! Wait first!” He pulled back his pants.
“OK, let me wipe the skin first. I won’t give you the injection until you are ready. I will wait for you to count up to ten… slowly. Alright, start counting. Open your mouth wide and count!”
“…nine, ten!” And the nurse was already clearing her tray.
He asked, “are you not going to give me the injection?”
“Given already!” The nurse smiled at him as she walked away.
His wife apologized, “sigh! Such a big man, but such a small heart!”
Chen Song Ping 