In
In
Conflicts are a tricky thing. Sometimes you know what's going on on your side, but clueless about what's going on on the other side. Or there are cases whereby you are aware about what's going on on the other side, but feel lost and confused on your side. Other times, you know what is going on and both your side and the other side, but it is the other party that is unaware of what exactly is happening. It's okay if none of this makes sense. It probably means you do not have to go through much conflict (yet). Or I am being too vague, but I haven't really got the time to sit and think how to make this more understandable.
Then there is the part where you have to decide whether or not you want to solve the conflict. Is the conflict worth solving? Does it jeapordize chances of working opportunities or even good relationships? Once you've figured that out, then comes the matter of how to approach the problem. Here is where I sometimes find it frustrating. I hate conflicts. Of course, no one really likes conflicts, but I really detest it to the core. Simply because of the hassle it brings or the way people act in it. There are people who, in a conflict situation, come full force into it, trying to make things clear by debating it to the ground with their opponent, but never seem to open up their minds to a different perspective besides their own. Then there are people who pretend everything is okay, act nice and then do whatever is possible to get rid of their frustration festering inside of them without facing the problem or person they have issues with. I don't know which is worse, the one that attacks head on or the one that hides behind your back and makes faces (metaphorically speaking).
Personally, I think problems with people or things that matter really should be solved A.S.A.P. However, there are times when situations do not allow it, or the other side just wants to shut out for the moment or have nothing to do with it at all. What's left is to push it or leave it. In time perhaps, things would stand right again. We will learn something new from the event and grow.
Things might fall apart and break, but there's the option of gluing it back together or move on and get something new. What can be salvaged, we shall salvage. What cannot be fixed no matter how you try, it is better to save the effort and time.
"Apart from a few starry-eyed poets or monks living on a mountaintop somewhere, however, we all have expectations. We not only have them, we need them. They fuel our dreams, our hopes, and our lives like some super-caffeinated energy drink.”
― Tonya Hurley, Homecoming
“If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?”
― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
“When someone sees the same people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, they wind up becoming a part of that person's life. And then they want the person to change. If someone isn't what others want them to be, the others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are.”
― Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life

“There were two ways to be happy: improve your reality, or lower your expectations”
― Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes
“I wasn't disappointed. My expectations had been met.”
― John Green, Looking for Alaska
It was 8:30p.m. Around the dinner table sat my mother, my sister and me. We were having a simple meal, nothing much, just rice, egg and stir-fried baby long beans which my mother had cooked. It was a Sunday night and normally people would be out eating, but it was a relaxing one at home with just the three of us and no fussy requests, a simple meal to fill our stomachs was set on the table.
“Did you cook this?” I asked my mother as I chewed on the vegetables.
She nodded. “Yeah, why? It tastes different?”
“There’s a difference between Mama’s veggie and other people’s veggie.” I replied, to which my sister nodded and smiled in agreement.
The taste of the food that filled my mouth, into my taste buds was something that I missed very much. It brought nostalgia to me, bringing me back to the time when my whole family were still together, having my mother’s home cooked meal together as a family every day and night. It was a routine my parents had implemented; all members who are home, eat meals together at the same time.
In the present, normally my mother would not cook as a house-maid was employed lighten my mother’s burden. For two to three years, my mother had not cooked much. It was very rare if she did. Tasting her cooking again on that Sunday night made me realise how time had passed since I last enjoyed her cooking. So much has happened with promises of much more happening and I feel like I have not got the time to slow down.
My mother, the person who had cared for me and had once cooked meals every day for the family is no longer as young as I perceive her to be. One moment she was 40 and now she is already 60. This night has made me realise how much I took her for granted. Her kindness, her worries for me, her cooking, her sacrifices and the times she kept quiet when my bitter words and actions hurt her… all of them I took from her and then went about my business, thinking that I would have them for a long, long time. However, the fact is it won’t be long before it all stops. One day soon, she would have to leave this earth. All of us could die anytime. We could die tomorrow, or the day after, or the next week, or even years later. But despite the length of time, when a person goes, or when something stops, we would feel as if it was so sudden and time had passed so fast.
Like fine sand that you hold in your hand, first you have a tight handful, but then it would slip through your fingers, running until you’re left with just the residue that sticks to your palm. On the event that my mother goes, I don’t want to experience the death and then suddenly realise that I have missed the chance to get to know her or appreciate her or show her I love her or make her proud. I don’t want to realise that I’ve forgotten to say sorry for the times I’ve caused her pain or have no time to help her out when she needed me. Or when she would tell me things that I think was empty only to realise they were things I wish I would have paid more attention to. I don’t want to be left with that residue when everything is gone.
This was the mistake I have made with my father; remembering all the bad qualities about him, but failing to remember all the good ones that came together until it was too late. Going through the same mistake again with my mother would definitely be a shame on me. My mistake, my loss.
Mother, you are important to me and I love you.