Wanchain's Space

After speaking to the Writer in Residence today about my story, I started to ask myself, "How to inspire others?" I did ask her that question, as to how to inspire others with my writing. She laughed. It was a very broad question. She said, she could write an essay on that topic. Okay, no hard and fast rule. That's fine. Based on the questions and comments of the Writer in Residence, I saw that my story did not inspire her. That's fine. Different people focus on different aspects of the same thing. I can be inspired just by looking at the clouds. But not everyone can get inspired with little stimulation. This is how I started my question. I don't want to inspire by telling, for example, by explicitly writing something like the teachers are not the ones to teach but to learn from the students ; or the one who inflicts pain is the one to learn compassion and love from his victims ; etc. I think it's meaningless to just say it to others. I don't

One day, the president of Toastmasters Club came to me to ask me to participate in the weekly meetings. I had stopped doing so after I finished 20 speeches. I had never felt comfortable with Toastmasters. It's not the public speaking that I have trouble with. It is the structure and advices that I have trouble with. I am curious and inquisitive. I prefer to be self-taught. I learn best by exploration and experimentation. I need a lot of freedom to explore and play. I prefer to be a free-range chicken rather than a penned up chicken. An environment that is highly structured and has many rules stifles my creativity and growth. The first Toastmasters meeting gave me that very restrictive feeling. I managed to stick to it for over a year. I don't think I can stick to it any more. The president of the club did not give me the freedom I needed. In fact, he did exactly the opposite. He said, I should do this and that. He said it's not fair that after I had received my awar

A Bruneian Friend One day I messaged my Bruneian friend something silly, like "Have you ever tried ...?" It was a funny thought that I wanted to share with him. He replied, "Have you ever thought of the quality of your question?" I was immediately taken aback by his response. My funny moment turned solemn. As if he had not succeeded in dampening my mood, he continued, "Pay attention to how your thought affect the level of your consciousness. Ask yourself, what is the benefit of your question?" I told him, sometimes I like to play around, to explore, to be curious, etc. He did not reply. This is a friend I've known for 15 years. He's very sociable, witty, and funny in a social setting. A Pakistani Colleague I have a Pakistani colleague who have been in the same company as me for the last four or five years. When I first knew him, he would always advise me to get a better job with a higher pay and a nice job title. He would advise me to be

The recent development of the Greek debt reminded me of my trip to one of the PIGS**. I was in Portugal in the midst of summer. I took the tram from Lisbon to Belem. The tram was so crowded that I could not walk to the ticket machine. The tram did not arrive exactly in Belem, but within walking distance of it. The operator announced something in Portuguese, and all passengers alighted from the tram. I walked to a bench, to sit down. It was one of the stone benches, which was too hot for my butt, and there was not shade. I stood up and walked to a nearby park, and sat in the shade. While I cooled myself off, I started to write in my journal. After writing about four pages, I decided to move around. Then I realized, my jacket was not with me. I had my passport, wallet, and phone in my jacket. Without those three items, I would not be able to continue my trip, I would not be able to fly back to Canada. I would be begging on the street. I immediately looked around the park, retr

I never told this story, because it may be quite disgusting to some. But I have decided to leave the judging to you. Inspired by a comment from my Swiss penpal. ~ ~ ~ In 2013, when I was strolling around the old town of Jerusalem, a shopkeeper asked me if I had a minute. I said yes. He invited me into his shop. He made tea. Showed me his jewelries. Showed me how he made jewelries. Introduced me to different parts of the old town. Introduced me to his shop and his family. He's a Bedouin. Bedouins were known to be warm and hospitable. Although his English was limited, we chatted for at least 1.5 hours, in between him dealing with customers. He asked me how I liked it in bed. He told me how him and his girlfriend did it. "She's eating when I'm fucking her." I didn't know how to get out of the shop. He was a big fat guy. His brother was skinny, but a bit taller than me. Perhaps the universe heard my predicament, because his uncle came to hold an u