Continuation...

So apparently not only my last blog post potong stim.. but I missed out on some details...

Like learning how to throw a fishing net. And drive a boat. Very important on resumè. Jack of all trades, I am. Master at none, I am. If I were a flatworm I could split myself and do all the exciting things but alas, evolution made me so unlike my ancestor (yes, I'm Catholic, yes I believe in evolution, shut up again, gawd you criticise too much) that we only share bilateral symmetry.

Actually, I take that back. My ears are wonky...ask my optometrist. My legs are wonky...ask my pilates instructor. My boobs are wonky...ask my bras.

There is one main wonkiness about me: I'm too shy to ask if I don't know something. Not from fear of being ridiculed over a stupid question ( they tell you there's no such thing as a stupid question BUT THEY FUCKING LIE. Just sit quietly,  write a note to self and google it later. Google doesn't judge but fair warning,  it will remind you how stupid you were) but the trauma from being ridiculed. I have a VCR tape somewhere to prove how loud and strong-willed (and bull-headed) a child I was (and still am..albeit also a scatterbrain).

I've been told that I sit back and watch a lot instead of being all gung ho and hands on immediately. I've been told I read too much too. All those blasted women's magazines and Jodi Picoult have made me wary about things that seem to be or may be something else. Despite the influence of 'budaya barat', Asian mentality and the Malaysian school system has ingrained into me that One Must Never Fail. Everything must be done perfectly right the first time around so no energy or cost is wasted. Eat all your food, some African kid is starving. Don't run all over the place, some Cambodian kid has no legs.

So I sat back and watched. Hung back and observed. Very bad for a person whose job description is to LEAD fieldwork. To MAKE DECISIONS in the field on the spot (which puts me in a spot). But I get there eventually.

Btw, just to put it out there, if I want to bitch about someone, I'll never name names. I'll just write a very thorough description of you until your own mother won't realise she missed that birthmark between your toes when she was busy kissing each and every stubby one and I didn't. I won't (for now) be that kind of blogger because this is a public blog.

 

And despite the blog title, this isn't the continuation of the previous post. You have been fooled. HAR HAR HAR!!!