The fat guy who turned up for squash~

Where I work, we have a squash team that plays regularly every Mondays and Thursdays. About 6 to 7 of us who simply want to have a good workout and sometimes, have a really competitive match to see how far we have improved in our game. Sometimes, we even discuss among ourselves to point out areas of improvement in our game. It's a nice stress relieving session I must say.

This Monday was different. There's was a new guy who joined the firm not long ago and decided he wanted to join our squash session. Welcoming him to the squash session was naturally what I had to do. Where I work, squash players are a rarity. But this new guy who joined us is different from any new guy at squash. He was different because he was fat. He was really fat like having a 45 inch waist line or probably more.

It all started when I found this new guy in my company's monthly bulletin of new staff. Every time there is a batch of new joiners, a bulletin will be sent out to all staff to offer a brief description of each of the new joiners. I was scrolling down the latest batch of new joiners and I noticed one description that said, "squash captain", which really piqued my curiosity. I had to find out who this new guy was because I didn't catch wind of any really good squash player joining us. I would have known if there was one coming in. Honestly, I was a little doubtful about it.

I was really looking forward to the idea of having a strong squash team with this new "squash captain" that has joined us. So, I popped him a mail to tell him to come see me, sort of to break the ice and get to know him better. A couple of hours after lunch, this guy shows up at my cubicle to meet me. I was surprised! Very, very, very surprised to be honest. I was expecting to see a well built bloke who'd fit the description of "squash captain". Instead, I found myself staring at this really fat bloke who introduced himself to be this "squash captain".

I promptly introduced myself and the squash team along with our playing sessions. I excused myself after the prompt introduction. I couldn't help but burst out laughing in private because I was surprised to see this fat bloke and simply because I was expecting someone a lot different as compared to what I saw.

I admit that I shouldn't laugh at someone else's physical attributes and offer my apologies for having laughed at him, albeit in private. But, but he did turn up for our squash session and he put effort in his game. Given his size, he is definitely at a disadvantage but he still showed up. Most fat people shy away from sports because they feel they can't offer a good game or be competitive in their game. I don't know how he felt about joining us for squash but I think he was probably worried about how our reaction was going to be. But the fact that he showed up to me, was commendable and I respect him for that.

I will be frank in saying this - he's slow in the court, not technically sound and unfit from a cardiovascular standpoint. But frankly, I don't really care because that was expected. Have any o of you seen a fit and fat guy before? Not likely, right? But he made it a point to show up and to have a good workout. I have to give him credit for that. He was honest enough to say that he probably wouldn't be able to give me a good game but he was determined to lose weight by having a good workout from squash. I was glad he said that because deep down I now know I should reciprocate he's will to lose weight.

Being fat can be embarrassing. I can attest to that because I was fat when I was in primary school right up to mid-secondary school. So much so that my family nickname became "Fats". That nickname still sticks till today despite having lost weight and toned up. Fat people sometimes have peers make them the focal point for a joke because of being fat. It's sad because it can be hurting even though it may be a friendly joke. After all, these people never chose to be fat. I can't think of anyone crazy enough who'd want to be fat!

Therefore, if a fat guy can turn up for squash and tell me he wants to lose weight, I believe I should oblige in helping reach his goal to lose weight and to reciprocate his determination to shape up and move from fat to fit.

you've got only each other.......

Growing up with siblings has its commonalities. The quarrels, the fights, the fair share of parental advice, the pep talks, even sharing the sting of the most revered family bamboo cane (mom ain't nothing once you have felt the sting of the cane) :P

There's not a single family that I know of, who has told me they have never had sibling squabbles. Not any that I know of at least. I'd be utterly surprised if someone told me he or she has siblings and never had a single squabble throughout their growing up.

I have one older brother and I sure do remember the fights we went through when we were younger. I laugh whenever I think back about it. Fighting and arguing over the tiniest of matter. But we were kids then, what do you expect? It reached a point my dad got us each a pair of boxing gloves to go fight it out. Every Sunday, he'd lay four bricks in each corner of the compound of our home for the 'boxing ring' and he'd be the referee. As far as he was concerned, nothing below the belt and nothing above the neck. We had a whacking fun time!

Over and above all that, every time my brother and I had an argument, we'd both get the cane or scolding. My mom or dad would never ask who started it and they didn't want to know. There was no favouritism. One thing they never failed to say was, "look, it's just the two of you in this family. We both love you guys and why are you guys fighting amongst yourselves? What good does it do? Family stay together and hang on to each other for support. When the world is crumbling around you and no one cares about you, your family is all you have. Mom and dad can't be here for you forever. Someday we'll leave this world and you two have each other only so don't go on fighting. You guys should be like best friends! Alright?"

At that young age, the last thing on my mind was my brother being my best friend. Fighting over anything, even food! Who would have thought someone like that would make a best friend? I sure didn't.

But right here, right now, I'd say my parents was right. Today, my brother lives in Australia, working there and happy with a decent girlfriend. I am truly happy for him. As much as he is far away from where I am, I do miss the bloke and every now and then we text each other. There are things that I tell him of which I don't even tell my parents. I have shared experiences with him, that no one else could - I played against him in the finals of a squash tournament (albeit, I lost. In fact, I don't think I have ever beaten him in a serious match); the last time I traveled to Australia to visit him, he made sure I didn't need to foot out a single dime while I was there; every now and then he pops me an sms saying, "take care of the old folks alright because I can't be there for them."

I've seen people closest to me kick the bucket, I've seen some of my friends' parents kicking the bucket and I know it's not a nice feeling. I also realise that I don't know how much time I have left with my parents and someday they will leave this world as they go through the human life cycle. And when they depart, it's just going to be me and him. He's all I got and I am all he's got....... but he ain't heavy, his my brother.

When your own mind becomes your enemy~

"huh huh", "huh huh", "huh huh", I was breathing hard and I was sweating hard. Most of the muscles in my body were starting to feel a burning sensation. I knew my body was very close to the limit. I was struggling to breathe, in fact. I was down 5 points and my opponent looked stronger than ever. I knew in my mind, this was going to be one of the toughest squash matches I have ever had in years.

The match pinched me because there I was looking at my opponent, he's this bloke almost twice my age and yet I couldn't beat or let alone take a set off him. It was down right frustrating. I was thinking so hard to come out with some way to beat him but I simply ran out of ideas during the match. Every shot I played, he had an answer for it. If I made a good shot, he'd make a better shot. It reached a point where I just didn't know what to do anymore!

At that tipping point, I got frustrated and I got upset with myself. That's when unforced errors started to come in and I basically gave him the game. The frustration just got worse.

I sat outside the court after the match just asking myself one question. Only one. "Was it worth getting frustrated and upset with yourself?". As I saw the sweat from my face dripped on the floor as I sat on the floor, I knew the answer was a simple, "No".

As I drove home, windows down, the air blowing into the car was simply refreshing. Then as I gave the match a deep thought (still conscious of the road, I promise), it dawned to me that there is an undeniable truth to the fact that the mind has latent powers that many of us can actually harness maybe with the exception of great minds like Einstein, Socrates or Darwin.

My point is this - the very mind that I was using to come up with tactics and techniques to beat my opponent in the very end turned against me when I lost my mind in the state of frustration and simply gave away the match making unforced errors and sometimes, silly shots.

Yes, I admit I may be raising a rhetorical point but the irony of the human mind being a double edged sword is simply mind boggling. As much as the human mind is capable of marvelous feats, it can also be the harbinger of self-destruction.

Old folks' home, a necessary evil?

Paid a visit to my grandmother today and she currently lives in an old folks' home. I know it may not necessary be nice to place her there. I have had many friends asking me why she's been place there? Apparently, most people think it's cruel.

On the contrary, I personally think the old folks' home is a necessity in this time and day. Don't get me wrong because I am by no means giving a reason for anyone to ship their parents into an old folks' home.

My grandmother now lives in an old folks' home due to her stubborn personality, not wanting to live with her children. Last time she stayed with my family, she felt scared being alone my house because my family never came home until 9 to 10pm during the weekdays due to our busy schedule with work.

Along the way we tried asking to stay with some of my uncles and aunties, then she decided there was no place like her own home. Finally, we gave up and she got her way. She may have enjoyed staying in her own home but we were worried. Worried because she was all alone ever since my grandfather passed away a few years ago. She was in her early 70s then and someone in her 70s would be pretty cumbersome and most importantly, fragile.

Without the luxury of time, my family and I travel to visit her at most once every two months. Well, my family lives about 2 hours drive from where she lives since we are in different states.

Our worse fear materialised about 4 years ago, when she slipped and fell down in her home. Thankfully, my aunty found her on the floor in her home when she was paying her a visit one weekend. Had my aunty decided she not going to visit her that weekend, my grandmother would have probably been on the floor for God knows how long!

That's when a collective decision was made to have her live in an old folks' home. Today, she lives amongst many other old ladies in an old folks' home that separates men and women. There are caretakers who are around 24 hours a day to make sure everyone is fine.

The folks there get 4 balanced meals a day, and if anything happens we get a phone call from them. In the old folks' home, she gets to interact with the other folks around her and even if she doesn't really talk to them, at least she is around a crowd. I personally think, it gives her some form of mental comfort to know that they are others who are in the same position as her or worse off.

Ultimately, I get a peace of mind, my family and relatives get a peace of mind.

As much as the general mindset is that an old folks' home is a place to boot old folks who are deemed a burden to family. I personally think it provides a safe haven for old folks, a place where they are taken cared of. It is no form of replacement for family love but it does keep the old folks safe from harm.

Call it a necessary evil...................

The kid with the motorcycle

This morning I went to fill my car with petrol. I went in to the petrol station counter to pay for the petrol I was going to pump into my car. Right before it was my turn, there was teenager paying for the petrol to be filled up for his motorcycle.

He looked young, probably only 18 years of age. This kid tells the guy at the counter he wants 5 Ringgit worth petrol for his motorcycle down at pump 5. Then I heard a pause and he then said, "Sorry, make it 3 Ringgit instead.". That's when I noticed him looking into his wallet and I saw it was close to being empty. I think I only saw 2 Ringgit left after he paid for the petrol.

There was no doubt that he had to gingerly reduce the amount of petrol that was going to go into his motorcycle. He was probably thinking of how much mileage he could get from 3 Ringgit worth of petrol. I don't know how far a bike can go on 3 Ringgit because I never owned bike before but one thing I knew with certainty - he definitely wasn't going to go further than 5 Ringgit worth of petrol.

While most of us out there are always dreaming of 'upgrading' to bigger more luxurious fuel guzzling cars, this poor bloke here was lucky to even get some petrol into his bike. As much as we all dream about having nice cars and to be able to boast how much horsepower it packs or its hand made leather seats, we often forget how lucky it is to even have an engine and four wheels that gets us to work and back home safely.

My workplace recently had a bout of salary increment to those who qualified and it triggered quite a fair bit of displeasing sentiment in view of the relatively low increment. There were a lot complains and disagreement with the lower increment this year compared to last year.

As much as it is good to dream about all the luxuries money can bring, one should not forget that one should count one's blessing for a roof over one's head, food to eat, water to drink, a car. While most of us just swipe our credit card at the petrol pump and go "Fill her up!", the kid on the bike had to fracture how little he had in his wallet to make sure he some dough left for other things..........

All it takes is a little encouragement

"A Life at Work" by Thomas Moore is currently the book I am reading. I have reached about half way so far and it has really given me a lot of in sight about my destiny or at least pointers to get me on my way to figure out what my life work is (i.e. your ideal work, work that fulfills you from the inside, food-for-the-soul kind of work). It's still a work in progress thing for me; a long way from reaching the full discovery point (if I ever reach it).

Your life work can be as simple as helping old folks in need in a nursing home to something as simple as being a life guard. Simplest of work can be the most rewarding to a person's hear that's deep down. Of course, there's no denying that it is different for everyone.

But sometimes, if not all the time, all it takes is a little encouragement from the people around you. Sometimes it is as simple as, "a job well done chump!" or "way to go bud!" or "you hit the home run mate!" or even "great job!". And sometimes, these words mean more than a billion dollars to certain people. It's the joy of knowing someone out there thinks you have done something worth appreciating.

I personal experienced it. It's a wonderful feeling because I feel like I have made a difference in someone else's life. I am not talking about making a life defining moment in another's life and neither I am saying that I made a difference in another person's life. What I am saying is that someone out there in this world thinks I am good at something.

I experienced it via this small, humble blog of mine. I have had people giving negative comments on my posts and sometimes positive comments but I take it at a stride and see if I can learn something new from the comments I get. Yesterday, I had a multiple strings of negative comment about a post I wrote recently. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel offended but what I realised was that it was only one person's opinion as compared to the other many positive comments I have received thus far.

In fact, on the same day in the night one of my online friends said to me, "I really like your blog. You are really good at writing. Don't stop writing.".

And that made the difference. It gave me a ray of hope that tells me to keep on blogging. Most importantly, I recognised the fact that I don't need big, material rewards to encourage me and keep me going. Even small gestures of appreciation is all it takes to give other's a little encouragement.

turnaround effect

Today was one hell of a day for me. So bad that it left me with a spinning head for a good three quarter of the day.

It started off as a pretty good day at work not until I made a few errors. Errors that were down right silly and should not have been made to begin with. Like any other errors related to work and official documents, there are bound to be a repercussion. I got apprehended by my boss. Big boss to be precise. I am fine with the apprehension since a mistake will be a mistake - especially MY mistake.

More often than not, silly errors are the ones that leave you feeling really sore about yourself. Especially the ones you don't expect to make. It is embarrassing to say the least and it paints a really bad image about me.

As much as a small error can leave me feeling crappy about myself, similarly a small good deed left me feeling good at the end of the day.

Before going back everyday, I need to line up in front of an auto pay machine to settle my parking bill for the day. An expensive RM9 for your information! Anyway.... forget the price but there was this middle age man trying to pay via the machine and judging from the frown he wore on his face, clearly it was his first time trying to pay his parking on the machine.

As he spent time figuring out how to pay on the machine, a line was forming behind him. I heard him mumbling something about not having small change to pay. He didn't realise the machine accepted notes.

The ironic part is, as he stood there for almost 2 minutes figuring things out, no one took the trouble to tell him the machine took notes. A girl on the machine beside his just giggled. I didn't think it was funny. The girl behind him just stood there like a log. Probably hoping he'd figure it out faster. Guess, she never thought if she bothered to assist him she would be already be on her way home!

So, I just walked up to the man and directed him how to work that machine. He paid his parking without any trouble and thank me. By the time it reached my turn to pay, I did the necessary and walked myself to my car. As I was opening my car door, I hear a car stop in front of my car and the car gives me a quick beep. It was man I helped at the machine. He said thanks again and gave me thumb's up. It made me feel warm in my heart............ I felt good.

What a wonderful turnaround effect!