Well, not really. Actually, far from it. She works in the media and receives free newspapers daily and magazines monthly. And that was a song title. But I must have inherited my innate desire to travel and the ability to land myself in painful situations from someone. I can’t stay put and I don’t know why. But not knowing why is not as painful and not being able to travel.

I feel like running. I don’t know what I’m running from or what I’m running to. I feel like Forrest Gump, running on and on and on—minus the beard and masculinity. Before I fall asleep, my mind goes into a marathon of sorts… reading maps (in my mind, I said), stepping on a new sidewalk, shooting down folks with my camera, running my fingers through foreign currency, falling asleep under a different sky, feasting with strangers, breathing in forest and timber, breathing out mist and telling others how Malaysians don’t live on trees.

2006 is probably the most turbulent year I’ve been through. Seeing my pets die in the past did not prepare me to see life slip away from my grandma. It’s funny what death can do to one person. It’s more obvious to me that the body is a cavity and hidden inside the folds of skin, muscle and sinew is life. I was tempted to take a picture of my dying grandma, but I did not because it didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like her either. Yet it’s fascinating to know that early photographers could only use dead people in portrait photography. But that’s for another post.


Grandma was the only lady in stripes. This was her home economics class and I think the waffle-making machine stole their hearts.


Mom and dad. Much younger. This is my second year serving in a non-profit organization and they have been pressuring me to leave this job for a more financially rewarding one. It’s tough and I’m fidgety. Maybe this is what I’m running from and why I’m running. But it can’t be.


Despite all that confusion and strife, this year made me more vulnerable than expected. God still has a lot of work with this slab of marble though. Still a little shapeless and rough, I know I can trust his visions for me more than I can believe my own. I have no idea what he will chisel off, but the rubble would make a good collection in my personal museum I reckon. Everybody has a museum… a room of failed inventions, a room for mistakes and a wall of old (false) lovers.

Have a great new year.