a walk in their tiny shoes..

Interframe: When reading the children’s books for my coming Friday’s exam, I couldn’t really understand some of the vocabulary in those children books – even for my 21-year-old brain. Now, I remember that I never really read as a child though I was familiar with some of the story books. I just browsed through the pictures. And I guessed some of the interpretations I made when I was little about the storyline through the illustrations in the story books were almost correct. So I guess that was how I learned literature as a child – interpreting pictures instead of texts.

If somebody ask me whether I love children, without much doubt I would answer "Yes." And if I had the chance to elaborate, I would add "I love playing with children, but I dislike taking care of them." Yes, it's true that I love children - but I love children not in the motherly kind of way (maybe because I hate responsibilites towards another person), but rather in another sense, where I treated them like my friends, my equals. If I were to play with a child, I would lower myself to their level, trying to be someone their age though I am obviously older than them by a couple of years. (Yes, jangan risau, aku jenis yang sedar diri aku dah tua).

I would try to see the world through their eyes, at the same time trying to reminisce the way I was when I was their age. Unfortunately, I've always failed, because I've lost that gift - the gift of innocence - while growing up. Thus, I couldn't see the logic why they wanted to do something out of mind - like watching silly cartoons nonstop, going out to the playground on a very hot sunny afternoon, or maybe just a walk up and down the stairs where some of my little cousins found interesting. Those activities were all so.. boring and meaningless? So I resorted to being the villain - the one whom the kids can play with but at the same time, the one whom they always tried to be against. (Ask my two cousins - Rachel and Ezra - and yes, these are their real names..)

Instead of being someone who would play along with the kind of games that the kids wanted to play, I would suggest another game - which was more interesting to me but not to them, but like it or not, they had to follow reluctantly to my suggestions or else, no games at all.

When Rachel and Ezra were little, whenever they wanted a playmate, they looked for me, but if they wanted something like sweets or junk food, they looked for my elder sisters - either Michele or Melissa - because both of them were more generous in treating them with those junkies, but me, I was like - second guessing myself in giving so much junkies to them because I wanted to save some for myself and yes, I admit, being with children sometimes bring out the child in me, apparently. Thus, it was no wonder that they did not listen to me like how they listened to adults. In other words, I wasn't fearsome to them. (This explains why the kids that I used to teach at my alma mater were not scared at me at all - instead they rebel against me).

All of us must had a lot of moments to cherish during our childhood. There were amusing times, and most of them would be lovely times, whether our first Christmas at our parents' hometown, our first trip to somewhere foreign to us, and our first big birthday celebration. Nowadays, we are all grown up, so it's now the little generations' turn to experience their childhood. But the kids nowadays might have different childhood from ours, and ours were definitely different from the older generations'.

Coming from different generation, there was always this sort of expressions, "Kids nowadays are not as good as us," "Kids nowadays are pampered too much," and so on. Yes, some of the expressions were true, but what do we expect when they were raised in different atmosphere from us, or perhaps our parents, the earlier kids? And what makes us think that we are not responsible why kids nowadays are behaving the way they are - too demanding, and sometimes, disrespectful - compared to the earlier children who were always ended up being beaten with rattan by the fearsome parents if they try to be mischievous.

Kids nowadays - are just as much as innocent as us when we were little. It was just their luck to be raised in this atmosphere which are so polluted with pop modern cultures, which actually, were invented by us - the older children, the used-to-be-innocent earlier kids.

Instead of putting a harsh judgment on these kids, why not we ask ourselves "Are adults nowadays any better?"

What do you expect of your kid when you put your kid in front of the television, 24/7, just so you can have a rest after your day's job?

Are you even aware what your kids are watching on the television?

Instead of trying to let your child understand you - why don't you try to understand your child?

They were born to this world without much choice - don't let them regret the decision that they didn't make.

What is the difference with adults in the earlier days and adults nowadays? (in Malaysian context)

Earlier adults though generally not as educated, they know what was best for their children - which was sufficient attention. (But count out the adults during the Victorian area because they were practising child labour back then.)

They didn't confine their children within the four walls of their home - they let their children mix around with the neighbouring children and thus, the children were more contented. Or precisely, you, the present adult, were more contented when you were little.

So, as modern adults, what can you teach your children - since I guess most of you live in the apartment building where letting the child roaming around the neighbourhood could endanger them more than helping them?

All you can do is to give your little child the attention he or she deserves. Perhaps, bring them to the playground occasionally. Or there was this one little simple thing you could do - which is to read them bedtime stories, from a selection of children story books. There were many underlying messages in children story books, which was dedicated more to the adults rather than to the children.

When I mentioned that I didn't understand most of the vocabularies in a children story book though I am already an adult (or young adult precisely), I guessed maybe, children storybooks were not meant for children alone. I think it was meant for adults to read them - for their children, and elaborate the story for them. And while reading the story books for their children, adults may get to understand the children's world better because they might get the underlying messages inside the stories- and at the same time, kids can understand the moral of the story better through their parents' elaboration. You know, while studying children's literature, there were many underlying messages, where adults were portrayed as villains in children's eyes. How sad can it be? Do you want to be the villain in the eyes of the innocent ones?

Please, try to read some storybooks to your children from now on. Cartoons in the tv are sometimes good, but you wouldn't know what the message the kids will conclude since you couldn't help them interpret the cartoons in the tv everytime they watched it. Do read story books to your children oftenly - preferably during bed times since it's the only time you will be off from work - and try to walk in their tiny shoes and guide them in their children's world because you wouldn't want them to miss what you think was the most memorable stage of your life - which was indeed, your own childhood long time ago.



Interframes: I recommend story books like Heidi, Alice in the Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz to be read for children around 5 to 7 years old. They were nice stories and very suitable during the growing up phase. And yes, I should be on a hiatus like my sister now since self-control to restrain ourselves from temptation is one of the quality in becoming a good adult. heheh. And yes, now I am trying to be a responsibe adults towards children, but that i assure you, will take a very long time though. ;) Yes, this will be my last post during exam season. Or else, i will have have the worst universityhood.

Ini Bukan Post Ilmiah..

Interframe: Faktor pertama aku menulis post ini dalam bahasa Melayu disebabkan aku belajar Sains dalam BM suatu ketika dahulu, maka aku tidak tahu macam mana nak panggil 'pemboleh ubah' dalam bahasa Inggeris. Faktor kedua aku menulis dalam Bm adalah apabila mode nak mengumpat is on, aku malas nak jaga grammar aku yang hisaps, so aku tulislah dalam BM. Dan apabila bercakap tentang pemboleh ubah dimanipulasi dan dimalarkan, aku teringat pula dengan si Matth (bukan nama sebenar ) sebab term pemboleh ubah ini tercipta dalam perbualan kami berdua apabila baliknya kami dari ICG.

Ketika membuat eksperimen dalam mata pelajaran Sains dari sekolah rendah hinggalah sekolah menengah, adalah diwajibkan untuk kita mengambil kira perkara-perkara berikut terutamanya ketika membuat eksperimen perbandingan. Dua faktor utama yang dikenal pasti saling bergantungan; iaitu pemboleh ubah dimanipulasi dan pemboleh ubah dimalarkan. Biasanya, pemboleh ubah dimanipulasi hanyalah merujuk kepada satu faktor (misalnya faktor keadaan), manakala faktor-faktor yang lain adalah wajib dimalarkan. Erm, anda sudah pening? Biar saya terangkan dengan lebih lanjut menggunakan parable of the kacang hijau.

Parable of the Kacang Hijau.
Misalnya untuk menguji kepentingan air dalam percambahan kacang hijau, biasanya pemboleh ubah yang dimalarkan ialah jenis kacang hijau tersebut, iaitu kacang-kacang hijau tersebut haruslah dibeli dari satu pek yang sama. Dan tempat yang yang disediakan untuk percambahan kacang hijau adalah di atas kapas jenama yang sama. (Sesiapa yang memandai guna salah satu jenama Babysoft dan satu guna jenama X, nayalah orang itu.) Kelembapan atmosfera dan kehadiran cahaya matahari haruslah sama. Rasa-rasanya semua pemboleh ubah yang dimalarkan sudah lengkap. Dan untuk pemboleh ubah yang dimanipulasi dalam eksperimen ini adalah satu sahaja, iaitu kehadiran air. Salah satu kapasnya kering, salah satu kapasnya lembap dan basah dengan air.

Jika terdapat pemboleh ubah dimalarkan yang TERRRRubah menjadi dimanipulasi, maka eksperimen tidak berjaya atau dengan kata lain, keputusan eksperimen adalah tidak tepat.

Aku, walaupun sebagai seorang pelajar Sastera, memang bersetuju dengan kaedah saintifik membuat perbandingan. Kaedah ini lebih adil dan saksama, kerana pemboleh ubah yang lain semua dimalarkan dan hanya satu pemboleh ubah yang dimanipulasi.

Jadi, kenapa tiba-tiba aku nak bercakap pasal pemboleh ubah-pemboleh ubah yang telah disebut di atas walaupun exam aku yang akan datang hanya berkisar tentang linguistik, sastera, dan komunikasi manusia dan tak ada kena mengena langsung dengan kaedah saintifik yang telah dinyatakan? Ya, apabila musim exam menjelang, anda tidak dapat lari daripada persoalan: Apakah keputusan yang anda bakal peroleh? Dan daripada persoalan ini, lahirlah satu persoalan lain iaitu: Mengapa keputusan *insert nama* lebih baik daripada keputusan awak? (Biasanya persoalan kedua ni datang dari mulut mak ayah, lecturer, ataupun sesiapa sahaja yang suka membuat perbandingan tanpa menggunakan eksperimen secara saintifik).. So, itulah yang aku nak ketengahkan.

Perbandingan...
(Ya, setelah aku merapu berjela-jela, inilah tema kita pada hari ini!)

Itulah satu perkara sensitif yang sering dibuat kepada kita sebagai pelajar walaupun pada hakikatnya, kita tidak suka dibandingkan - melainkan kita adalah yang lebih baik dalam perbandingan tersebut.

Jadi di sini, aku nak mengetengahkan bahawa cara sesetengah orang membuat perbandingan ke atas kita, adalah langsung tidak adil. Mereka biasanya membuat perbandingan sewenang-wenangnya melalui pemerhatian kasar mereka tanpa mengambil kira prosedur yang sepatutnya - prosedur eksperimen secara saintifik.

Contoh-contoh perbandingan yang sering dibuat ke atas aku:

Contoh 1: "Eh, kenapa awak ni tak sepandai kakak awak, si *insert nama* tu?"

*Insert muka kasihan aku*

Masa tu aku macam nak jawab: "Dia dah 2 years ahead of me makan garam, of course her kepandaian is two years ahead of me lah, cis~!"


Tapi kan, on second thought, lebih tua tak semestinya lebih pandai. Tapi sepatutnya lebih pandailah. Sebab kan orang yang lebih tua ada masa lebih dah mengalami macam-macam sebelum junior mereka kan?



Contoh 2:"Eh, kenapa anak *insert nama* tu boleh dapat keputusan macam tu, awak pula dapat macam ni?" - biasanya ditanya oleh ibu bapa kita sendiri (-_-) ketika zaman sekolah rendah dan sekolah menengah dahulu.

*insert muka aku yang buat mulut muncung*

Jawapan on my mind: Mungkin sebab aku bukan anak mereka. Kalau aku anak mereka kan aku boleh dapat keputusan macam tu juga. Bwahahhaa..


Contoh 3: (Setting: Ketika majlis/kenduri/atau apa-apa aktiviti yang boleh buat orang berkumpul ramai-ramai)

Parent A: "Eh, berapa anak awak dapat untuk STPM hari tu?"
Parent B (for Baby): "Biasa je. Dapat 2A je (bukan result sebenar) [punyalah aku belajar separuh mati nak dapat keputusan macam tu, selamba je dia orang jawab ye]. Anak awak?"
Parent A: "Tak sebaik result anak awaklah. Dapat *insert result* je."
Parent B (for Baby): "Oh, takpe. Anak awak tu Science stream, anak saya ni Art stream, Science tu memang susahlah.."

*insert muka gigit bibir aku*

Rasa nak menyampuk on my mind: Science memang susah, tapi lebih senang diaorang nak masuk universiti kalau nak BANDING dengan kami orang.

"2A dalam STPM belum lagi dapat menjamin anda untuk mendapat kursus pilihan anda di universiti bagi pelajar SASTERA"- quote Cikgu Ai Fen. (I miss u Cikgu. huhu~)

Aku bukanlah nak complain sebab tak banyak orang puji aku pandai. Aku cuma nak ketengahkan isu perbandingan ini kadang-kadang memberi kesan negatif, dan tidak semestinya menaikkan perasaan competitive dalam diri kita, terutamanya apabila kita sudah melakukan yang terbaik. Dah bersusah payah kita berusaha, bukan penghargaan atau pujian yang diberi, tapi perbandingan. Dan adalah lebih menyakitkan apabila perbandingan yang dibuat adalah tidak adil, tidak berasas, dan hanya dibuat sekadar nak menaikkan nafsu amarah atau mengurangkan keyakinan kita.

Tapi sekarang, aku takkan kecil hati sangat sebab perbandingan yang orang buat terhadap aku tu tidak mempunyai pemboleh ubah yang dimalarkan. So, secara automatiknya, perbandingan tersebut tidak boleh diambil kira. Bwhahahaha..(Adakah patut, bandingkan aku dengan seseorang dari kursus lain, tahun berbeza, dan tenaga pengajarnya berbeza dengan aku? Sekurang-kurangnya semasa sekolah rendah, aku hanya dibandingkan dengan classmateku - dan itu masih belum dikira sebagai adil sebab mungkin ada yang pergi tuition.) Semuanya adalah pemboleh ubah dimanipulasi, maka eksperimen tidak berjaya! Keputusan eksperimen adalah tidak tepat, atau dengan kata lain, perbandingan yang anda buat itu adalah tidak tepat sama sekali.

Kalau nak bandingkan aku dengan seseorang, kriteria-kriteria berikut harus diambil kira:
1) Dia tinggal satu rumah dengan aku.
2) Dia sama umur dengan aku.
3) Dia belajar di sekolah yang sama dengan aku.
4) Dia diajar oleh guru yang sama dengan aku.
5) Dia belajar kursus yang sama dengan aku.
6) Dia ada aktiviti kelab yang tahap kesibukannya sama dengan aku. Tanggungjawabnya pun sama dengan aku.
7) Dia punya tahap bajet (wang saku) sama banyak dengan aku.
8) Dia berjalan ke bilik kuliah sama seperti aku.
9) Dia mencuci pakaiannya sendiri - sama seperti aku.
10) Dia mempunyai kawan-kawan yang sama dengan aku.

Itulah semua pemboleh ubah dimalarkan yang sepatutnya untuk membuat perbandingan. Pendek kata, aku hanya boleh dibandingkan dengan klonku sendiri.

Pemboleh ubah dimanipulasi:
1)Nama, personaliti dan fesyen rambut kami berbeza.


So, anda semua rasa nak buat perbandingan? Kalau nak buat perbandingan tepat, silalah ambil kira pemboleh ubah-pemboleh ubahnya terlebih dahulu. Kalau tidak, "don't bother" lah ~(ikut nasihat Shakira the Colombian singer). Peace~

Sekian, terima kasih.

Your Room Shows Who You Are, and That My Dear, Is Not a New Discovery...

I am not a good hostess. I just leave my things messing around in the room (especially during exam season) and when people came to my room, I did the tidying up in front of them - I mean, how embarrassing! I used to do this whenever any of my hostel mates came to my room, both my hands doing the tidying up, while my mouth kept apologizing profusely for the mess. Sometimes if I am lucky and I got a 10 minutes notice, I grabbed all my books and notes which were scattered on the floor and bed, threw them all into my cupboard and voila, everything looked fine again, and prayed that I do not have to open my cupboard in front of the guest. By the way, if you are reading this, Marce, (that is - if you even know the the existence of this blog, hehe), sorry my room was damn messy - and I wanted to apologize I didn't have snacks to offer you. I used to buy snacks in case there is any guest coming but I ended up eating them myself even before the snack could make its way into my food cupboard, due to the temptation during stress. Hehe. But one thing for sure, I love having guest around, especially those who never come to my room before because a room is actually a place where you get to show your personality, and share bits and pieces of your life. It is your comfort zone, and it just shows your guest the idea of what makes you comfortable. Apparently, people get to know you more through your room -unless you are the kind of person who doesn't do anything to your room (but still, even when you didn't personalize your room, we can make conclusion about you - that you are either a very busy person, an uncreative person, or a plain simple boring person - pick one or pick all three, no limits here.)

So actually, what are the things that make my room, MY ROOM?

1) Tons of books - either story books or text books.
I like reading books, but now I am gradually switching to reading blogs. Maybe it's because I am too lazy to hold a book - you know, especially the hard covered books. It's damn heavy especially when you want to read them while lying down. But I like to keep books, especially English story books. This semester, I had to buy 6 children story books for my Children Literature course, but I didn't really complain, and I am not thinking of selling them off at Chow Rasta because I wanted to keep them. But it was a totally different story for text books. I bought text books because I was in the kiasu mode for this semester, when a lecturer stressed how important a book is, I was among the early birds to purchase the book- skemalah katakan. But those text books were still virgins - until the eve of the exam for sure.

Conclusion about me: You can conclude that I like to read fictions and I only read non-fictions merely for exams. You can even conclude that I am a person who like to take the easy way, buying text books instead of photocopying them - and that I am a kiasu person for buying the almost every book that the lecturer asked us to buy.

2.) Clothes hanging on my window
If you want to identify my room from outdoors, try this - look for the room with tons of clothes hanging on the window - and you shall be assured that the room belongs to me. This shows that I am ahem, someone who could adapt well to situation. Since we didn't have enough space to dry our clothes, whenever the clothes that I hung at the suspension system (not sure if I am using this noun correctly) were halfway dry, I would transfer them to the window for further drying. And no, I don't care what people think about it (especially the people who were exercising at the back of my hostel who can have a nice view of our windows and what we hung there *sigh*), as long as my clothes are dry, that could make my day and what's more important, I would be less worried.

Conclusion about me: You can conclude that I am someone who's obsessed with laundry and someone who could adapt well to situation. heheh.

3) Soft board full of prayer cards and a drawing of Jesus
Well, this shows that I am a Christian, or specifically a Catholic. But don't get the wrong idea, I am not a holy person *shame mode on*. Yeah, the reason I put many prayer cards was because I am a great sinner, so I need more prayers and protection from God. (Remember that it was the sick people who keep more medicines, so that goes the same for me..) And about the drawing of Jesus, I have always loved drawing, so I would love to put something I drew on my soft board. Besides, I didn't have any holy pictures (and I am too thrifty to buy one cause they are expensive, huhu) so a hand work of your own was the best option right?

Conclusion About Me: I am a Catholic, and I am someone who loves artistic things (it runs in the family maybe).. But as I've told you earlier, I am not a holy person, and I only have halo when I walked under the sun.

4) Table full of scattered books, notes and everything important to a student

Whenever I am busy and needed to rush, I would just place my things on my table or on my bed - that was the case before exam. But for the case during the exam or the study week, it was because I went to search for my notes high and low, thus the messy table and bed and even the floor. Thank God I have a roommate who could tolerate my madness and messiness. :)

Conclusion about Me: I am a messy person. Simple as that.

5) A picture of my besties and me

I received a gift from my besties back in 2008, before I step my feet on USM. I opened the gift while I was on the plane, to keep my mind off from my gosh-it's-my-first-time-being-on-a-plane-alone worries. It was thoughtful of them, to give me something memorable - a picture of us - Sally, Stephanie, Amanda and me together. The frame was beautiful, but what was more beautiful was the message from the picture. It was a picture of us camwhoring inside the toilet of Cafe Cafe, a well known hang out spot in Sibu. I couldn't help but to reminisce our good times together whenever I saw the photograph. It was true, though as cliche as it sounds, that a picture tells a thousand words - or more precisely, recalls a thousand memories.

Conclusion about Me: I am a sentimental person.

Now, can you analyze your room or your friends' rooms? Put on your room radar on and try to observe now yo~! And no, room raiding is not an option.


PS: Though your hostel room may be your temporary bedroom, it still can sum up a few personalities, if not all, about you. So, be wary what you keep in your room, people, because the things you keep have the power to reflect who you are.

Mission In-Possible?

Is it possible for me to improve my English grammar, widen my vocabularies, construct correct and better sentence structures and upgrade my writing skills (particularly the way I arrange the events in my story) in just one and a half day for this upcoming Friday 1 hour exam?

Is it even possible for me to finish a story in just one hour?

I mean a free-of-grammatical-error story?

I’m doubtful.

So that was why I resorted to reading some good writings from The Star columnists – which I should have done a couple of weeks ago when my Creative Writing lecturer first mentioned about it to us.

You can try to read them too – if you want to improve your writings and also for mere reading pleasure. The articles are eye-opening, entertaining and educational - a whole package of a good writing. Compared to most educational articles in newspapers which are usually too lengthy (not that I read that much of a newspaper), the columns here are not that cramped with too much information. The information here are easier to be absorbed because of their chronological order of the information. And the writing style especially, was the trick.

I especially favour Mary Schneider's and also Alexandra Wong's columns for the sole reason that I only get to read their sections, and not to forget Marina Mahathir's musings - where I read one of her writings about the education system in Malaysia.

So, what are you waiting for? Check them out yo~!

I guess I gotta go.

(Spelling error: gotta = got to)

*Back to reading mode*

Blogging as a revision...

for my LHP 453 a.k.a Creative Writing paper. Why not? My lecturer had always said that blogging is a good way to improve our writing - because we expressed the way we think through blogging. But I guess my writing is still not improving- thus the B grade I got for my 70% coursework for this paper. When it's already a 70% coursework, it means there's no hope for an A (or even A-), so no chance to follow the footsteps of my sister when she sat for this paper last semester. I need to maintain its B status or perhaps aim for B+, but if my grammar is still so poor, I guess I have a fat chance of dropping to C. Oops!

So let me do a little experiment of writing for a duration of 1 hour in a topic - let's say there are a group of five words and I need to use them to write a story.

rain, old woman, dead, baby, sobbing, dark,

Ok, let me start, and let the story begins.

I could never forget that dream, or nightmare to be more precise. This nightmare had always haunt me whenever I tried to sleep these few nights. It had been four days since the accident, and I wondered if these nightmare had anything to do with it. The nightmare, no matter how hard I tried to erase them from my mind, had a strong effect on me - the vivid images of an old woman standing in the rain staring me straight in the eyes. Those stare, it was somewhat piercing, somewhat accusing, somewhat condemning me.

I tried to drink in the image of the second class hospital room which was my home for these four days to replace the image of the old lady from my nightmare. My attempt was quite successful when he arrived.

"Hey Tia," my younger brother, Tom, who never fails to visit me every morning before school begins, greeted me.
"Good morning," I replied with a forced smile. "How's Mom?"
"Okay," he answered and quickly asked "did you sleep well?" He always tried to change the subject whenever I asked about Mom - perhaps Mom was angry with me for not taking care of myself and involved in a car accident like this. She had every right to be angry with me. And honestly though, I could not recall what happened before the accident. I wished I could because then I would make up with Mom for the mistakes and wrong deed that I had done.
"I slept well," I lied nonchalantly. I don't have to worry him with my nightmare, I thought.
"Are you sure? You looked tired, and you got eyebags - I think you don't sleep enough," he elaborated while putting his palm on mine.
"Go to school, Boy," I told him and ate a sleeping pill after he had gone.

It was raining heavily and the temperature was freezing cold. I tried to make my way at through the heavy rain - it was almost impossible to move even an inch against the strong wind. I saw a figure standing a few feet away and being desperate, I asked for help. The figure did not move.

Instead, I heard a cry of a baby from the figure. As if from a scene in a movie, suddenly lightning flashed and I could made up the figure that was standing in front of me. It was a figure of an old lady, and with her, a little baby crying continually. The cry was piercing and I could not stand it.
"STOPPPPPPPPPPP!!!" I screamed - and suddenly the baby's cry really did stop.
"YOU~!!" The old lady looked at me with piercing eyes. I was confused.
"YOU KILLED THE BABY~!" She voiced in a rage. Then she started sobbing, mourning for the dead baby.
I was speechless. I killed the baby? But... but how? And why?

Suddenly everything went dark.
"She couldn't remember what had happened," I heard my brother having a deep conversation with someone.
"Boy," I voiced up when I was wide awake.
"Ah, Tia," Tom looked awkward. I looked at the person whom he's having a conversation with - ah, a doctor.
"Hi Miss Tia, I am Dr Jacob," the doctor introduced himself without wasting much time. "I am from your therapist from now on."
I was speechless. A therapist? But why?
"You lost your memories of the night before the tragedy, I was informed," he said matter-off-factly.
I nodded.
"Why doctor, is it something serious, I mean, my condition?"
"Urm, yes, but to tell you the truth, it wasn't as serious as the tragedy itself," he replied.
"Doctor," I heard my brother trying to object something.
"Perhaps I need to let you know something about that night because I think you are living in denial, trying to forget everything about that night," he explained. "And actually, that night, you murdered your own mother and your 2 month old daughter."
His tone was dead serious I could die. How come? How.... come? I tried to swallow down what he had just said.
"No, no I didn't," I whispered to myself as the memory of that night came haunting back.
It was already dark. I just came back from work as a salesgirl in a shop, and I couldn't endure the stress anymore. I came back and saw Momo, my 2 month old baby sleeping peacefully.
She could have a bright future, I thought silently, but not with me. I wanted to give her up for adoption but Mom disagreed. Mom said she is our own blood, and she accepted her as her precious granddaughter though she came to this world illegitimately. I was so tired, I couldn't stand it anymore to worry about Momo's future,and Mom's sentiment towards Momo is not of my concern, so I tried to abduct Momo inside the car. Perhaps I can give her up for adoption since Mom was nowhere in sight. It was something so spontaneous, yes, I always do this kind of thing, thus the pregnancy.

Suddenly, Momo was awake, and she looked at me. I tried to signal her to keep quiet, but as a 2 month old toddler, Momo had no idea so she cried instead.

"Momo!!" I heard Mom's panic voice calling. Ah, that sensitive old lady! I started the engine and Mom saw me.
"What do you think of doing?" She looked at me as if I were crazy.
"Doing what I was supposed to do 2 months ago," I said and trying to reverse my car.
"You, you Tia!! Stop! DON"T YOU DARE!"
But I was headstrong. Mom tried to stop me through the open window but I just stubbornly reversed the car slowly.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY, TIA, BEFORE YOU CAN GIVE HER TO ANYBODY," She said and that was when the accident happened. While struggling to break free my stereng from Mom's grasp through the window, I stepped on the accelerator instead, and it moved the car forward until Mom was..
Oh, my goodness! I knocked Mom down until her body was smashed against the wall of the house. And Momo, Momo fell from the seat and her fragile head was bruised and she was unconscious. It was happening so fast! Panickly, I reached for Momo and to my horror, she was dead. They were all dead. Did I just caused their deaths? Did I just murdered them?

"Doctor, I am ready to tell you everything now," I said with tears on my eyes, looking from the doctor to Tom. How I wish this was just a nightmare that I could escape.


PS: I know there are a lot grammatical errors in this story, and the weaknesses in this storyline. Feel free to correct or critic them. Thank you. ;)