Night Owl

It has been torturing for the past days when I was awaken in the middle of the night due to the heat. Whenever I was awaken, I would have to drink at least a glass of water and turn the fan to higher speed before I could fall asleep again. It would take approximately half an hour to one hour before I could sleep again.

This day, I knew that a good night sleep would be somewhere far from me and have decided to approach my PC for some relaxing moment.

The refreshing cool breeze at 4am is quite a relief. Sitting in front of the PC at 4am was something I did when I was a teen but not anymore ever since I entered varsity. I never like late nights though my friends would think that one who never have had late nights would not have enjoyed singlehood to the most. But after all the long and winding road through the late nights with my PC on ICQ & IRC, I knew that it holds no value in life.

Late night, as it is, does not hold any value nor add any to life. It will just drain away the energy in the body and make one feel exhausted the next day.

Hmm...I think my eyes are tired enough for a good morning nap now...ZzzZZzzz....

Dad's Legacy

I could still remember when I was asked to write about an idol in my life in my form 2 or 3 assignment. Most of the friends wrote about their father. But I chose to differ. I could think of nothing to write about my dad. We lived in a house but he was like a distant away from me. He was always early to work and came home late in the night, when all of us had gone to sleep. I ended up writing about a neighbour with a title of PJK.

Time had definitely changed things tremendously. Dad had changed too and his changes had clearly influenced me. We were more like best buddy when I was studying in University. Maybe it was that time that we missed each other so much that we knew the value of a father-daughter relationship.

Dad had been encouraging during my uni years, unlike my school days where he demanded results rather than attending to how I felt. But it was a blessing that Dad consoled me and told me through the phone when I was far away in the university, “Just do your best. Don’t over stressed.” Those words made me to have the courage to go on.

After my graduation, Dad was the one taking me for interviews. I was not familiar, or should I say, I don’t drive well though I have a license then. So, Dad had to chauffeur me to wherever I was appointed for interviews. Every time before I apply for a job, I would ask him where was this place or where was that place to make sure it is somewhere near my house.

Walking down the aisle was the most beautiful moment of a lady, I could say. Having my dad, walking beside me from the entrance of the church to the stage of the hall, was a blessing. We walked arm in arm, smiling when the church organ sounded and people on both sides, clapping and cheering. It was at this tremendous happy moment that tears filled my dad’s eyes. He was going to hand in his daughter to another man. He thought I was going to leave him alone. But not that easy! It was yet another blessing that I was able to live with my parents after marriage. Dad was delighted that I could be his pampered daughter again. We could chat till midnight, recounting both our experiences.

Dad had always been there.

It was end of year 2006 that Dad found himself to diagnose with tuberculosis. He had three months of medication and diet food and we were waiting eagerly to see him recover. After the three months, he was confirmed to have fully recovered from the disease. We were cheering about that but joy was short live. After only a month, doctor said that he might have some problem with the liver.

One evening, in March 2007, I got home and found Dad lying on the bed. He was staring blankly at the ceiling when I greeted him. He looked at me and blurted, “Doctor said it might be cancer.” Tears started to fill both of our eyes. Dad started crying while I denied the truth and comforted him by saying, “Don’t worry. There is no confirmation yet.”

I could not be too emotional. I had to be strong. I was pregnant! I had to keep the foetus healthy.

Things turned out to be ugly. I had a miscarriage while Dad was diagnosed with liver cancer third stage. His tumour was approximately 10cm. It was too traumatic for me to lose my baby and at the same time, seeing a close parent leaving me. Dad was sad too. It was the second time in my life that I had him cried for me. He cried because he knew how sad I was to lose a baby. He cried because he knew he would not be able to see his grandchild.

The public hospital waiting period was so long that by the time we found a doctor that promised a medication, the tumour had grown as big as 12cm and it was the final stage. Nevertheless, we still did not lose hope. “Cancer is curable,” I kept telling Dad. There were many testimonials in the newspaper that they had been cured from cancer.

Dad found comfort in Christ then. We went to church together. He told me that he liked to listen to the hymns. Hymns soothed him down. He had many church members visiting him and giving him comfort. He saw hope.

It had been a few months and when everyone thought that the medication might be working, we were failed by our assumptions. In October 2007, after my class, I called mom, only to find that dad was hospitalised due to diarrhoea. I visited Dad that evening. Doctor said Dad could be dehydrated and he could recover soon enough. One day, two days, three days… Dad was talking and joking like usual. He looked fine. But doctor said Dad had not recovered fully and need constant checking.

It was Saturday’s morning and I was rushing through my assignment when mom called me. She asked when I would be visiting Dad that day. I could not confirm. “Maybe after lunch. I need to finish this assignment.” Mom hung up the phone. Minutes later, my brother called and asked again when I would be visiting Dad.

“Dad’s been vomiting blood since 7am this morning,” brother said.

“I’ll leave the house now,” I said.

I hung up the phone. My hands were trembling and tears started to stream down my face. I called church and asked pastor to pray for Dad. Then, I quickly drove to the hospital. When I entered dad’s ward, I found him sitting on the armchair, flung by brother on one side and mom on the other. I greeted Dad and he nodded his head and all of a sudden, we heard burping sound and blood poured out from his mouth. Brother wiped it off. Dad vomited continuously and we knew that time was ticking away. Doctor said there was no way to stop the vomiting. Dad’s siblings arrived to give their support. Reverend and Pastor arrived to give their prayers and to baptise dad. We sang the hymn “Amazing Grace”. It struck me that it was all in the plan. It was the hymn that dad, mom and I sung for the two consequent Sundays in church before dad was admitted in the hospital. Everything seemed to be like a coincident. Dad liked that song. I liked that song. It was a comfort for dad to listen to that song again.

Doctor finally came in. He asked my mom, brother and I to go out to have a talk. All I could hear was, “He might not be able to last more than 24 hours.” Mom and I burst crying and doctor asked us to be calm to let him finish. He suggested that we give Dad a dose of morphine and let him sleep away. That was the last thing we could do to make him comfortable or else, the doctor predicted that Dad might be choked and drowned by his own blood in the lung.

When we went into the ward, dad was still vomiting blood. It was a difficult decision for us to make because we did not want to lose him just like that but we also did not want to see him suffering so much of pain. We wanted so much to talk to him. There was still much to say. There was still much to share. But we did not want to see dad suffering in such a way. Mom asked dad whether he wanted a dose of medication for him to sleep. Dad shook his head. He could not talk. He could only shake his limbs. We understood him. We asked him thrice and he rejected us thrice. He wanted to go on. He had the courage to go on. We trusted him. He stopped vomiting. When asked whether he would like Bible read to him, he nodded. I read the Bible to him. He was lying on the bed, relaxing himself as much as he could. It was a good sign. He had his eyes closed. He might have fallen asleep from the tiredness of vomiting. We thought that things had turned out to be fine once again. But it had not!

Mom cried at once when she noticed that dad’s blood pressure was dropping tremendously all of a sudden in the midnight. We called doctor and dad’s siblings immediately. We wanted everyone to be around. We kept calling dad.

“Wake up, dad,” we called.

Dad’s blood pressure went up again. He was listening to us. He was. Brother sat on the right and me on the left of dad. We whispered into Dad’s ears telling him to let go if it was too much for him to bear but if he wanted to strive on, we’ll always be there with him. His blood pressure went up again. I knew it. Dad wanted to strive on. He would not let go so easily. He wanted us to know the message. I hummed the hymn Amazing Grace into his ears. Gradually, we found that his oxygen level and blood pressure were running low. I said, “Dad, are you seeing Jesus? Do you see bright light? Follow Him. Follow the bright light.”

The machine stopped functioning. All of us cried and called Dad. Doctor came in and asked the nurse to use another machine, which was more accurate. It read Dad’s heartbeat. Dad’s heartbeat was very weak. But we saw there was hope. We went on. My brother and I continued to hum the hymn. Dad would be ok, we hoped. But after an hour or two, dad’s heartbeat turned into an almost straight line. We informed the doctor and she came to certify that dad had left us. To hear the words, “He has gone,” was such a heart-breaking news. Those three words had left us mourning for the lost.

Dad had left me. I had lost my compass. He had been my chauffeur. He had been my listener, my counsellor, my advisor and most of all, my dear dad, who took pride in whatever I do. I was left with 2 assignments and presentations and 4 examinations to go. The assignments and presentations were 2 weeks away while the examinations a month away. I wanted to give up. I told my brother I just could not go on. I called my lecturer. I wanted to drop the course. I could not concentrate. But God, in some way, had sent dad’s message once again. “Remember how dad fought till the end.” All of a sudden, I remembered dad’s motto, “Tolerate and have patience with whatever you do. Fight till the end.”

His last breath would not leave me just like that. It should have a great impact on me. I prayed that I could concentrate. So, I did. I did not drop the course. I moved on. I did my presentations, handed in my assignments and took the exams. I finished off my first semester with pride. Yes, dad, I’ll make you proud.

Though Dad had left me, his spirit of “never quitting till the last breath” would be here with me. He had been the wall I always leaned against all the while but now, I have to lean on his words.

2007 had been a traumatic year for me as I lost two of my precious belongings, Dad and my would-be baby. Life still goes on whether we want the day to come or not. Sun still rises and sets.

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost,

But now am found,

Was blind but now I see.

T’was grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear,

The hour I first believed.

A Message of Perseverance

“You eat here everyday?”

That was the first sentence uttered from a lady I met today while I was having lunch alone. We were sharing the same table as there was no other tables available. She then started to ask about the “chee cheong fun” stall at the corner and so forth.

“How old are you?” she asked. “28.”

“So, you are born in year 1980?” “Yes.”

“Which month?” “May.”

“Which day?” “21.”

“I’m on the 1st. the rest is the same, May, 1980.”

It was such a coincidence - and the most interesting part is yet to come.

She told me of her career history from being a chemist to being an insurance sales executive. When she decided to change from her stable lab job to being a sales agent, her parents got very angry about it and she was under so much of stress that she moved out. Then, without a car, she had to take buses around KL area to try door sales. And without any results even after 8 months of being a full timer, she still did not give up.

Her eyes twinkled as she talked. I saw a great lady right in front of me. Perseverance is one of the ingredients to SUCCESS and the main one. If she had quitted when her parents objected, she would not have seen the results today. If she had quitted when there was no sales closed, she would not be sharing her experiences proudly to me. If she had quitted when she had to travel by buses EVERYDAY from Serdang to Puchong, Cheras, Setapak, etc., she would not be so content of her achievement today.

A success story starts somewhere - when you least expect it, when things “seem” to be going the wrong way, when you’re exhausted yet continue going, when you BELIEVE in it!

Millionaire - Part 2

When my bro and I were little, we would dream of being a millionaire, billionaire, zillionaire, etc. Then dad would snap, “Yea, right. You don’t have to wait. You’re already having million Hairs!”

When I was in early teens, dad bought many cheap-plak T-shirts with all sorts of brands. I was living in the naïve world of my own, not knowing what those brands about, just understood that those brands meant good. Silly! This continued until bro entered college. Then, he brought in the idea of BRANDS into the family. He refused wearing fake things dad bought. He taught me what a real brand is – Levis, Guess, Timberland, Nike, etc. To me - Shirt is shirt. Pants are pants. They are garments to cover private parts.

I remembered the joke my uncle once told me. He said that when he was still a “YB”, whatever he wore or used were thought to be REAL. Once he used an imitation pen to sign a document, the friend beside him said, “YB, nice pen! It must be very expensive.” My uncle smiled and quickly kept the pen away.

It’s all in the mind. When you’re “someone”, people will look up to you and beg at your feet.

I once read a proverb which sounds like this: “I lament for not having shoes until I saw a man without feet!”

It’s all in the mind. Millionaire is just another human – made of flesh and blood, nothing different from the rest of us. But the only difference is that they are RICH, damn RICH. The richness that could not bring any happiness…

Meeting the CEO

Meeting with the CEO - Well, he looked like my father, chubby face and big nose. No one would ever thought this man is a CEO. That’s why - never judge a book by its cover. And this CEO has very little words.

That reminds me of a Chinese proverb which sounds like : 1 word sent out, 4 horse also difficult to catch!

So, if you can’t make it, don’t say anything - when you say nothing at all, you’d already meant a lot!

Millionaire - Part 1

Yesterday I met with a CEO’s wife. Right after my boss called me, I saw a BMW reached the gate. I quickly rushed out to greet the lady. She flashed me a smile and asked, “Alice?” Wearing T-shirt and 3/4 pants, I felt a little embarrassed having to serve her. But she didn’t care much about what I wore. In fact, throughout the conversation, she called me by my name, “Alice, can you…?” or “Alice, do you…?” And last but not least, she remembered to say “Thank you” to everyone involved, even to the least, which people usually left out - the security guards. She made sure that the guard heard her say, “Thank you.”

I believe this is the real Millionaire. To me, a millionaire is being rich at heart. when you treat others well, you’ve won the world. Real millionaire appreciates everyone and never show their arrogance. I believe that ARROGANCE = IGNORANCE.

I remembered window shopping in KLCC with my mom with T-shirt, shorts and slippers. The sales people would stare at us from top to bottom with a typical look. It made me feel inferior. Why would these people treat us like this? They think we don’t deserve shopping in KLCC. Huh! How ignorant! Without customers, these shops won’t last and these sales people would lose their jobs. It goes round and round….whatever you give will come back to you.

Tomorrow, the fair lady is going to bring her CEO husband along for a second visit. I wonder how the CEO is…

The Ugly Duckling & the Handsome Beast

Does a beast have to be ugly? No. He can be handsome and charming.

Does an ugly duckling have be “ugly”? No. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

This afternoon Ugly Duckling found the parking lots packed. She was driving behind a BIG car (MPV) driven by Handsome Beast, also looking for parking. To cut story short, the Handsome Beast did not manage to park his car because he thinks Duckling’s car blocked his way. So he showed signs with his hands and shouted whatever that only he could hear since he’s in the car alone. His face turned red and ugly all of a sudden and that scared Duckling. He gave up and zoom pass. Another car, MPV came and took only one turn and parked in. Easy!

The Handsome Beast is so “duh”. People with same sized car could park well enough. Duckling wanted so much to go to the Beast and said, “Hey, you, if you don’t know how to park such big car, then, don’t drive big car. Otherwise, you’ll blame others.” But she didn’t. It’s not worth embarassing herself for such people.

Changing from one job to another has taught me one thing - people. From the Executives in bank, I saw numerous “handsome beasts” who showed their beastly acts whenever they could, torturing me to carry heavy coins packets and hurling verbal insults at me ON PURPOSE in front of customers. Now, working along with different construction contractors, I got to know how kind these people might be. They are “beastly” in their communication among themselves but never ever rude to ladies.

“HUH!” Ugly Duckling sighed.

Human “are like the new grass of the morning - though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered.” (Psalms 90:5-6)

Rubbber Sucks Blood

Went to visit my 5 years old nephew today. Thought of teaching him drawing but ended up having to face with his tantrums. He was extremely upset because his grandaunt told him that the rubber he accidentally swallowed will suck up his blood. So, all the while, he’s “feeling” himself getting sick and sort of going to die! His mother explained that rubber will not suck blood. But he refused to listen. He refused to do homework and threw tantrum at his mother because his mother’s answer did not tally with the first impression he had set in his mind.

So, I created a silly story that I’ve a friend named Sheila who said ant will suck blood. I asked my nephew whether it’s true. He said ants don’t suck blood.

Me : Why do you believe rubber sucks blood then?

Nephew : Because Grandaunt said so. She’s old and she knows everything.

Me: hmm…I’m old also. But I might not be right all the time. Sometimes we might say something wrong.

He nodded. He finally agreed with me. I asked him to say sorry to his mother but still he refused. He had his pride…

Aren’t we the same? Most of the time we just do what others ask us to do without questioning because we simply TRUST and BELIEVE fully that that person is 100% right. No doubt. We believe that old people sayings are right and need not be questioned. We grow obediently.

Never mind the books we have. Never mind what some people TRY TO CORRECT us later on. We keep to our thinking steadfast. WHY?

Ignorant. Stubborness. Pride.

Ignorant - Believing everything being told is true.

Stubborness - Not willing to accept something which is right.

Pride - Believing that what we’ve always been believing is right and that’s right. not going to change any or else we’ll be embarassed for letting others know that we’re wrong in the first place.

Then, we’re no better than a 5 year-old child, throwing a tantrum at his mom, trying to protect the idea ,”Rubber sucks blood” when the TRUTH is it does not.

Health Crisis

Health has always been a major worry in my life, or my mom’s. It is always the backbone pain, or the sprained ankle or wrist, or the menses that go upside down and the liver that falls in love with oil. Hence, I was always going on medication and had just finished another course on fatty liver. Have not check on the blood to see whether the liver is functioning well and there came another problem - swollen lip!

Suffered for at least a month with monstrous lips, which cracked and swell. Then, when it was finally “OK”, here comes another problem, tasteless tongue and nose which could not smell!

Had been keeping this to myself when recently my mom talked about my grandmother’s tongue cancer. I said, “well ya, i’ve a sore on my tongue. somewhere and recently i’ve lost the taste of food and smell.” mom was EXTREMELY worried. All at once, my diet is changed. wanted to change it anyway to vegetarian.

It was a surprise when a friend told me that another friend has cancer. No one would think that people as young like him, will actually be sick or get hitched up with cancer. but everything is possible!

Life is short and meaningless if we only learn to work, drink and play. There must be something…something more meaningful than this!

Visitation

Lying on the sick bed, breathing heavily, she fell into a slumber…All sorts of tubes poked through the saggy and wrinkly skin; through the throat, the hand, and underneath to ensure that she could breath, receive food and urinate as normal as possible. A nurse is hired full timely, sitting in front of her to watch the heart beat reading and draw a chart of it.

We went to visit our friend’s mother-in-law who has cancer and was in the ICU. When I saw her pale face, it was as if I have never known her before though I used to meet her in the church every Sunday. But not anymore since she fell ill.

The moment we left the ICU, I could only think of what she might be thinking.

“Lying there, enduring the pain that no one would know, and would never realise how time flies…the only HOPE, the only HOPE is to survive another second to watch closed ones all together…”

This flesh and this blood may dried up one day but what is left to be remembered?

Funeral #2

Last Sunday, I sms my friend on when she wanted to go for holiday with my family as promised. She replied saying that her grandmother was very ill. So, we cancelled the holiday plan.

Yesterday, my husband received an sms on a funeral to attend. We were wondering who it was…When we reached the place, I saw my friend. She was pale from crying and gave a weak smile when she saw us.

Before the service began, my husband helped out to clean the table with peanuts shell and glasses of tea. It was all the same during my dad’s funeral. When will the people learn that attending funeral is not about getting together and chatting, drinking and eating? It’s about respect for the death and consolation for the deceased’s family members.

My friend’s grandmother died of brain tumour at the age of around 80. She had seen her children. She had seen her grandchildren. Still how much more had she wished to do?

A beggar will get sick. So do a millionaire.

A beggar will die. So do a millionaire.

It prompted me to think, "How much could I earn? How much could I bring to death?"

Funeral #1

After attending a wake yesterday, I thought of writing about the sick and the dead. Attending a wake is something "pantang" to the older generation and much more to me since I was afraid of ghost. Nevertheless, upon accepting Christ, I feel free and I do visitations in the hospital or attend wakes when there is the need of it. It’s a blessing indeed because the blessed shall console those who are in pain.

Just imagine, you’re lying in the sick bed in the hospital and most of your friends did not come to visit you just because they "pantang" to visit people in the hospital. I had dengue fever days before my SPM and then, was admitted into the hospital on the second day of SPM. No friends came to visit me. Well, first of all, it may be SPM but then again, it could be the pantang-larang thing.

Lying on the sick bed, enduring the pain of the needles and lack of appetite…the feeling of loneliness…and waiting for time to heal…or die…that is the creepiest part of life! It is during this time that someone needs CARE! LOVE! CONCERN! Where are all the friends?

The first wake that I attended after my father’s death was a wake for a lady in her fifties. She had breast cancer. Her children were crying profusely when they knew of the death that would swallow their mother. But when they saw how much of pain that their mother had to endure, they understood that leaving might be the best choice, after all.

Thank God and I praise Lord for giving my dad a peaceful death and a most respected wake. When he was younger, he had many friends. But when he was sick, so sick that he could not perform any more work to help his friends, they were all gone with the wind. Only a few friends visited him. He felt lonely. He felt remorseful. Those people whom he deemed as his "BUDDY" did not turn up. Instead, people from my church and his church came to visit him often, so often that he cried tears of joy to see them. He knew it was God’s love. He knew that is LOVE, unconditional love…

When we were preparing the seats for guests to attend dad’s wake, mom said, "Don’t put so many chairs. It might be obvious when all of the chairs are empty." So, we put only a few rows of chairs. But it ended up that we had more guests than we’d expected. Even my first uncle was touched and said to my Reverend, "I’ve never attended a wake with so many people. Chinese seldom attend a wake. Thank you so much." This is LOVE.

We have no choice over life or death. But we have a choice to care or leave…

Friday with Mitch

Anyone who has read the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom would know who is Mitch and I’ve spent almost my entire day dating with him today.

Yea…listening to what he wrote through the book.

I cried so many times reading through pages of simple yet beautiful story he had written. Maybe because Dad is not around and I’ve related Dad with Morrie. I could understand the pain and "grey" feeling in someone sick. These days when I am praying for people who have cancer, I can’t stop myself from crying. Though they are not related to me, they are just like my dad; with withering limps, they slowly lose themselves to the disease.

For the past few weeks, I’ve drown myself in the ritual of self-pity. What’s there in life?

Just like today, when I’m on an MC, few people called me. The call went like this:

Mrs X : Alice, you’re not in the office?

Alice : No, I’m not. Why?

Mrs X : This blah, blah, blah. That blah blah blah. So, when are you coming to work?

Alice : Monday.

Mrs X : Why are you not coming to work today?

Alice : Gastric.

Mrs X : Gastric? Ohhh…ok. Bye.

Oh, she’s so mean. But that’s the fact in life. People are so busy with their own activities and who care about who’s sick and who’s not? Who cares whether you had your hair done or you’ve cut your finger today?

I like one of the quotes in the book, "Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live." Albom, Mitch (1997:82)

It brings me a deja vu feelings. That’s what my sister-in-law told me some time ago. She always asks herself, "If I’m going to leave this minute, this second, do I have something which I’m regret of?" That makes her live better. She graps every opportunities. She appreciate people and TIME. Whenever she had a fight with her husband, she would eventually talk to him first. It’s not about who apologises first will be in wrong but who appreciates…Will you feel sorry if you’re going to leave another second and yet, you hold grudges against the people closest to you?

Today, Mitch wakes me to the reality, not the harsh side, but the lovely sight of it. Ahh…What if I’m going to die this moment? What do I have to say?

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who ill-treat you." Luke (6:27)

"Do for others just what you want them to do for you." Luke (6:31)

"Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail." 1 Corinthians (13:4-7)

Each of us is the writer of our own life, which we like others to read and share. I wonder whether anyone is readng this…

Alone and Lonely

It has been a terrible experience having major gastric problem these few days. The cramp would just make me wake up from my sleep in the middle of the night and cause me to twist and turn and only be able to sleep hours later. And most importantly, I’m all alone.

Now, being all alone, I was thinking, who am I going to call if I happen to be dying out of gastric?

999

Of course. That’s the easiest number to remember and after all, I guess they’ll never be as busy as my friends.

Hah…..(sigh)…What a lonely planet this is…I’ve lost touch with all but a few of my friends and what’s there left…

Term it as "out of sight, out of mind" friendship, distance makes a difference. I used to think, it’s the thought that matters. I’m not those who used to remember friends’ birthday or do sweet little things to gather their attention. In fact, I’m poor in dates. I can’t even remember when I had my marriage registered! Luckily, the date is engraved in my wedding ring. Whenever people ask me how long have I been married, I’ve to say, "Hold on," took out my ring and see the date engraved. This is me! Well, I believe it’s the same with other friends. That’s why I only got three friends remembering my birthday. And I’ve to thank them cos they made me cried tears of joy. What’s more to hope…

To all my world wide friends out there, life has been busy…it seems like I don’t remember you but I do. At least, I sent out sms wishes whenever I remember to. And I keep diary…I remember all the things happened in primary, secondary and varsity.

Neither marriage nor distance stop a friendship from growing…but the fact is they do.

and WHY the heck am I still in friendsters?

HOPE.