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Friday, March 01, 2013

Little voices

KLCI jumped 13 points yesterday, giving many a bullish surprise. KLCI is above 20MA now, and we are on the road to recovery, to 1650 next and 1680.

I will have 8 hours of classes today, so I do need to reserve my 'energy' for that loong hours later on. So, I done somethin 'different' again ... by going for breakfast in a bakery shop!! Days ago, I took an hour off from my busy schedules ... to have a nice lunch, in an 'empty' restaurant ... and reading Scott Adam's Dilbert book. Haha ... and I find it as very nice, worth the time spent by being with myself.




http://www.upworthy.com/bullies-called-him-pork-chop-he-took-that-pain-with-him-and-then-cooked-it-into?g=4

To This Day by Shane Koyczan

To This Day

When I was a kid I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite she let me keep doing it not really a big deal

 one day before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
 I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it because I was afraid I’d get in trouble for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been
 a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise and I got sent to the principal’s office
 from there I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home
 I saw no reason to lie as far as I was concerned life was pretty good
 I told her “whenever I’m sad my grandmother gives me karate chops” this led to a full scale investigation
 and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises
news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school and I earned my first nickname
pork chop
to this day I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme
about sticks and stones
as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize it does
she was eight years old our first day of grade three when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls
but the school halls were a battleground where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day we used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there in grade five
they taped a sign to her desk that read beware of dog
to this day despite a loving husband she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand that she’s raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word mom
because they see her heart before they see her skin that she’s only ever always been amazing
he was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny he was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade had a personality made up of tests and pills lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs four fifths suicidal a tidal wave of anti depressants and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who still had his mom and dad had the audacity to tell him “get over it”
as if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit
to this day he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it’s about to fall and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration he remains a conversation piece between people who can’t understand sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity
we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way to this day kids are still being called names
the classics were hey stupid hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal but at night while the others slept we kept walking the tightrope it was practice and yeah some of us fell but I want to tell them that all of this
shit is just debris leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed it “they were wrong”
 because maybe you didn’t belong to a group
or a click maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball
or everything maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it you have to believe that they were wrong
they have to be wrong
why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them we stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called
we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are don’t worry we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of fuck off we made it not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me
of course they did but our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act
that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty. —

Name calling : I was called 'pai kuat' during my schooling days nicked by a Math teacher as I was very thin. I felt embarrassed and the laughters could drown a young boy.

There are still many being bullied and name-calling is a mild manner. Silently, many will keep many things to themselves and seeing their world to be dark.

Not until we grown up, we get bit matured that we could let-go, laugh things off and seeing things positively. We are being ridicule silly because we are 'different' may it be physical or we are not following the mainstream/trends.

Always remember that we are all born equal. We should not discriminate ... The colours of our skins, our so-called status, our political views, our nationalities, our wat-have-u. In God's eyes, we are equal. But we would be discriminating others? What culture is that?

Make the world a slightly better world to others. That is when we could say that we have 'lived'.

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I worte the above in my facebook after listening to the 'poem', creatively created. Do listen. We may not mean it, but at times our words will hurt others, un-intentionally. There might very 'bad' people who enjoy insulting others, but I believe they are the minority. When we were kids, nothing we joked or said ... meant it. But, somehow ... when it is an adult(parents, relatives, teachers, friends ...) insulting a young child, that is an abuse. We see physical abuse as major 'crime' but the 'emotional' abuse could be more harming. These kids losing their self-esteem, to be part of the society ... playing a role in the community and being involved in the 'normal' activities. Yet, many of these 'abused' kids will end up ... sadly, ALONE.

Many of things bottled up ... and with further suppression, their voices would not be heard, in the midst of noises ... and every word they said will be 'ridiculed'. The insult could do damage to a person's characters ... moulding them into 'hatred' individual ... and they do need to open-up, getting some supportive ones to understand what they are trying to convey ...

Many of them do not manage to see lights, as they have been hiding in their shells. The 'comfort' of dis-comfort .. they lived with it.

Be-frienders : I worked as a volunteer with be-friends PJ 20 years back ... and it was an amazing experience. I do hope I could find time ... one day, and help more in distress, who needs their voice to be heard.

got to go ... for my 7 hours of classes.

TEH


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