During lunch time, the teachers were chatting about many things. While included in the conversation, it came up, maybe meant as a joke, that I am mean. I was surprised not because it was brought up but because I hear the same thing from the same person for many times now.
I thought of it as a passing joke because I am the only male person in a female dominated school. I thought that a remark like this was meant as a springboard for more jokes. I thought of it as a teasing thing. But today when I heard it again, I am thinking that it might be true.
Right now the only possible explanation I can find is, my transparency towards many things. People know when I am sad or angry. People know if I just finished crying or in a happy disposition. I couldn’t sugar coat my words. I must be very good at describing unpleasant situations thus I am branded as a mean person.
I am writing this so as not to defend myself of which I could actually do since this is my blog. I am writing this so as to remind me that my transparency as a person had done great things for me. I am real without the same nicey-nicey smiles you get but able to stab others incessantly. I am true to others unlike those who remind you they are your friends but are nowhere to be found. It’s me, take it or leave it.
My point is, if I am mean just like what this person is claiming, how come I hear many mean things about this person? Hmmm...need not explain.
Two summers ago, I met one extraordinary child who is not only beautiful but also full of enthusiasm. She has such a great heart and an exquisite smile that she is going to be my perennial fave.
At the end of that summer, she gave me a rose as a token of appreciation for the care and love the teachers showered her. The summer had ended for almost two years now but the rose is still intact.
I left the rose inside the refrigerator to preserve a part of that day longer than expected. Flowers wither but the memories associated with them will remain for a longer time.
There had been many memories I wanted to hold on to because they were sources of inspirations and delightful anecdotes. The stories associated had been scaffold so as learning could be achieved. The bad memories are nightmares but being purged to oblivion.
For now, good thoughts will accompany me wherever and whatever I do as I try to make everything a pleasant experience. My health is important so a good mental attitude is a plus. I will think of good things and I will continue my path of doing well and helping others.
I finished two more art pieces inspired from activities found in an Usborne Book. All these pieces were painted on 60 x 60 cm canvasses.
I washed the background with mild orange colour and drew an elephant in bold red. I used the smallest brush I could find in my house to intricately draw some details.
I used pale yellow as background and drew the foreground like a silhouette. The leaves were very difficult to execute and finishing the artwork gave me a headache afterwards.
Nothing much to do after my surgery but rest, so I decided to do some artworks.
I used acrylic paint sponged on canvas to create a sea scene. I only have size 11 paintbrush so I cannot control the strokes for the corals, making them look big.
Van Gogh used short lines to build up the shape of the trees and the sky. This is my version of an original Van Gogh painting.
I tried using oil pastel on canvas and it was difficult to press so as to create brilliant colours. Anyway, this will do, my version of an original artwork from an Usborne Activity Book.
This afternoon, I went back to the hospital to get the stitches out. The doctor who did the stitching was the one who removed them as well. He didn't let the nurse do it nor an assistant but he himself. I kind of like this doctor who had been caring and gentle to me. While removing the stitches, he mentioned that I am a sensitive person and I told them he was right. He heard from my other doctor that I cried when the latter was about to perform endoscopy. I told him I cried too when I was wheeled to the operating room for surgery. Then I added emotional and sentimental to describe me fully.
A lot of people dislikes sensitive people as they are rather fragile in emotions and weak in accepting faults. However, the sensitivity in me goes beyond being hurt or being called names or when I am subjected to rejection. The sensitivity in me is being aware of what is going on and what is to happen next. I do see the relevance of events. I make sure I am not stepping on people's toes. I try to be more of a listener and a doer rather than a complainer and a speaker. I know when to stop talking. I feel for people, see through them and in a not so good way, become like them, absorbing their energies and thus making me sad at times, but hopeful at most.
I couldn't stand watching war movies, moreso, acts of violence including rape. I cringe at the sight of disasters and desolation. I cry when I see young children begging for alms instead of attending school. Yet with all these things which are real and around us, my saving grace is that I am not callous and that I have not lost the humane part of me: I help, I volunteer and I share.
Crying with no reasons and being weak at the same time would render nothing but lost opportunities to grow. My emotions are released through tears rather than violent acts or loud noises. If I had been doing nothing but to surrender to my emotions, then I couldn't have done many things that I am proud of.
"I don't like the sight of blood.", I told my doctor. "I like blood but I don't like to see people in pain.", he said. "That's good to know and I am glad to have met a sensitive doctor like you."
All is great now. The operation was a success and the experience a great learning process. While I reminisce the events of the three days period I was in the hospital, it gives me pleasure to write them down so as to remember those bittersweet and moments of exhilaration.
When I sneaked in two fish burgers for lunch prior to my operation in the evening, the doctor came in and saw me biting the last piece of the burger and said, “K. Jonathan, what are you eating? You’re not supposed to eat anymore.” “But I was hungry, would you like to go with me for lunch?” The bribe didn’t work so I gave the other burger to my interpreter.
Just before the operation, my interpreter came in before she left for home and send me her best wishes. What surprised were the two sentences she said before leaving. “You always have a smile on your face.” and “You have a great smile.” Now no one will backed her up with these because I am known as a stern looking teacher, a serious conversationalist, and a non-smiling person in real life (proven by all my photographs).
I was awakened by three nurses at six in the morning right after the night of the operation. They were there for my bath which I refused to have. I excused myself to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Right after cleaning the toothbrush, I felt queasy and fell down on the floor hitting my head on the marble top. Clinging on dear life because the fall made my stomach hurt, I was groaning in pain. The nurses were alerted and started to pull me out of the bathroom, sat me on a chair, transferred me on a wheelchair before laying me back on the bed, all through the help of four nurses. I woke up being fanned by ammonia on my face and hearing, "Your colour is coming back."
A good friend stayed for the night so he kept me up and alive in spirit. I thought that it would be splendid to exchange places where I will don casual clothes while he puts on my hospital gown. We wanted to see the nurses’ reactions but because I wasn’t that bad, we aborted the idea.
However, when my friend decided to sleep on the hospital bed and I was eating lunch, a nurse came and went straight to the bed and told my friend to take the medication after lunch. She was confused for a few seconds and then she gave us a big smile. Wink, wink!
“Today, you’ll be getting soup!” and I got two bowls of soup, and I mentioned that it was splendid. When dinner came and I could have something more than soup, it was great. The next day when I received porridge and a piece of sandwich, it was heaven. After being deprived of water and food, whatever was served was a feast.
There were so many kind words and supportive people who accompanied me throughout. The funny jokes exchanged in both operating rooms were witty. The constant visits from an array of nurses greeting me in the morning, exchanging pleasantries in the afternoon, and warm exchanges of conversations in the evening were memorable. The throng of visitors who came and gave me warm wishes were highly appreciated.
-->
To capped it all, as one of the nurses said, "Oh, do not cry, you are a big boy Khun Jonathan. We are here for you." That's all it takes to grow, knowing there are people behind to support, to love, to believe, and to pray for you. I am bless with good people, the Lord is indeed superb!
Many thanks to Ely and Jepoy for the calls, K. Tik and K. Jum for the food, and the parents of my students who visited me and to those who are still hanging food on my garden gate every morning.
