Roses are red, violets are blue...

I have been feeling under the weather lately, and by that I don't mean my health. The squeamish helix of student life is rocking the heck out of my boat this time around at an infinite accelerating rate and again, I don't mean homework and tests and stuff. I've become mad as a hatter. I've gone retro and loving origami all over again (made a pigeon last night. Great achievement for starters. Thanks Neemo for lending the book and your help, gonna find lots of coloured papers now). My klutzy spell has subsided, though by no means disappeared- I'm kind of jinxed for life. Truly inspired, the Victory Day celebration on 9th May made me dig out my semi-retired camera from my trinket box, only to find out that the battery's charger was missing. My charmed memory has, yet again, failed me. Aah. And now, out of sheer stupidity, I've got myself a phone stalker. Who says life isn't a bed of roses? Mine is. Only it's quite full of 'em pesky thorns. Rather distressing eh.

Today is Mother's Day, as we all are aware of. I don't think people here celebrate it though, you can find no such cards in the gift shops. To my mother, and every mother elsewhere, may all your love and efforts be bountifully rewarded by Allah, on this day, tomorrow, and the life after.

My mother has always been my source of inspiration, the person I admire most in a whole number of ways. I never truly asked you how on earth you did it, Mak, but giving birth to three kids whilst slogging through med school has got to be one heck of a bundle to juggle, to put it in the mildest sense. It's one thing to be having a 'cool mum', as many would say when they hear the story, but I never really gave it much thought, of the level of sacrifice it took for my mother (and father) to raise us little wrecks. To be carrying around a heavy chunk of lifeform in your belly for the better half of your varsity life, putting up with the nausea, cramps and whatnots, suffering through labour, nursing us, having had to send us to our grandparents for care, taking bus to visit us every weekend, later having to deal with our stubbornness and attachment to our grandparents, and everything beyond, until now... still dealing. Only Allah can repay you rightfully, Mak. I love you very much.

ps: Everyone, and I mean everyone, has been asking whether I've watched Spiderman 3. For the record, I didn't even watch the first two movies. And just so anyone's interested, my favourite superhero would be Batman.