Category: Meanith’s

A dark corner

We all have this one spot where we go to whenever things don’t go right. I’d like to call it the dark corner. To me it is a safe place, silent and alone, yet not lonely. I usually visit this spot once in a short while to see how dark it gets through time, or how brighter it becomes after putting so much effort to light it up. Even though we all have it, it is various from person to person. And it is caused by different factors in life.

Have you ever felt empty while you have everyone around? You feel that you don’t even belong there/here. You sound hopeful yet you know it’s a denial. You tell yourself every day that life must go on whether you want it or not; it doesn’t stop here, or unless yo… well I don’t have to finis the sentence, do it? Don’t be a fool. Even if you die, the problem will not solve itself; it is passed to others, worst, it might be passed to the people you love and care for the most. Still you are in your dark corner and looking for a way out, still haven’t succeeded.

Have you been told that you are a loser? Have you been thought to be successful and turns out the opposite? Has anyone said something like ‘I thought you were my only hope’ to you? Read the question again, slowly this time.

I bet we all have been through this and yes we have that dark spot where we appreciate so much that you don’t wanna share with anyone, not even with your partner. Special! I sometimes feel guilty for not being able to share my thoughts in a straightforward way. I can’t. I just am unable to express it the way common people could comprehend. All they do is judge.

I’m quite pessimistic and hopeless, but it’s funny that I teach people to be optimistic and hopeful. Here the irony is. I only try so that others might be motivated and start it over. They don’t deserve to swim through thing like I have been experiencing. Am I passive? Yes. Because all I wish to see in others is greatness and joy. I can’t now. I am all alone on a boat paddling on an endless lake. I can’t be thinking too much about others. I have to live. Like my previous post, I encouraged others to be selfish because I know people aren’t like us, seeing the world as a better place for everyone. They see us as a door mat they can step on and feeling no guilt whatsoever.

This dark corner of mine starts to show itself: I’m pissed. What is so wrong about being pissed? Non. You only become who you are, the real one. The worst thing is that I’m a passively pissed person; I don’t go around pouting my fingers on others; I take it all, by myself. Stupid, sometimes I call myself.

It’s too dark here. I can’t even see what I typing.

You heard me, how is yours?

The gate is there; go open it!

My head is heating up

This is not a random thing which happens to almost everyone in this planet. We all faced, have faced, are facing, and will face the problem(s). It is just a matter of time. When you have a problem, you need a solution, or more. To be frank, you do need the one that works things out. There are solutions out there, but all you need is the one that solves your problem. And this is the hardest.

How often do you face problems in life? Every day if not every moment. You make decisions almost every breath of your entire life; some might have more than another. One might have be bigger that another.

Psychologically, we all seem to lose focus when our head is heating up because it is working nonstop and working harder. On the other hand, we physically experience headache and fever; it is normal.

However, what I am trying to say here isn’t how bad the experience of having the headache is; I am seeking some motivation for myself to run through this bad time. Well, BAD TIME is every time. I don’t know how you view life or how your life has been, but mine seems so difficult and it is hard for me to move on. Is it because of how much wealth I own? I used to think that I could be happy without much money. Have I been wrong about life? What do you think?

Money doesn’t make sad or heats up my head, but because the lack of wealth, it prevents me from doing what makes me happy. Does that also happen to you as well?

#problems

I woke up in pain

I know it’s gonna sound like a big excuse, but yes, I have been so busy with what is happening and about to happen in my life. I have written any pieces on this blog. I know I don’t have many followers, but to tell you the truth, I love writing ’em down; it makes me feel better; it helps release the pain and stress.

Lately, I have been going to gym, eating more and sleeping abundantly. I aim to gain more weight for my big day coming up soon. I have been working so hard and have gained 10 kilograms. If you are like me, someone who struggles to add more digit to the weight, you know how it feels. It takes forever for me to gain muscles and be fit. However, within these two to three months I have been training myself hard for the aforementioned result.

God, have mercy! Last week, I woke up in pain. I couldn’t raise my right arm, so I use the help of my left arm to get out of bed. I didn’t know what happened, so I didn’t tell anyone. I thought the pain will go away as it normally did in the past. I used to lift heavy stuff and work at the farm; therefore, feeling muscle pain wasn’t a surprise to me. However, this one seems to be a different one. It’s been here for awhile now, two weeks to exact. I couldn’t perform my gym routines now. I am experiencing pain in the shoulders. At first it was my right shoulder, and then the left one followed suit. Now I can’t do any shoulder exercises, so I only work on my triceps and biceps, and sometimes my front and back body parts and some leg exercises. As my pain has progressed, up until today, I have to pause doing those exercises.

Not being able to gym isn’t my biggest problem at the moment, but healing the pain is my main priority. This morning I woke up with difficulty. Like any other day, I tried to get up by swinging my feet upward and downward so that it can lift my body up. It might sound funny to you, but it is painful to me.

Right after I got up, something coming up in my mind. “It won’t go away if I don’t do anything.” Then I grabbed my phone and google my symptoms. I wanted a bunch of videos to realize that my pain is related to something called Shoulder Impingement caused by the rapid movement of the muscles and tissues around the areas of the shoulders. The worse case scenario is that it might develop to Rotator Cuff Tear, which is the tear of a big tissue connecting the shoulder and the arm. If this happens, surgery is needed. And you guess what I was thinking while learning about this. I was shock and in distress.

This upset me and everyone around me. The worse thing is that it looks and sounds like it is all my fault for having this medical problem. Can it be because of my gym routines? It seems to me that I don’t really do anything else that might cause this to happen. But should I take the blame for being sick or for not being careful enough? Do I want it to happen? It just discourage me from doing what I normally do including going to work and hanging out with friends or family.

If this doesn’t make it the worst, I have just realized that I have had a bump on my wrist. After checking the symptoms online, I do know it is not always accurate, it am having something call wrist ganglion cyst. Crazy? YES. This one doesn’t bother me much as the above-mention shoulder pain. However, you should know how I feel to suddenly have a cyst on the wrist. It only feels a mild pain when I touch it. Still I have to see the doctor.

God, this is heavy. All of these also attribute my neck pain. My left part of my neck is aching, but it isn’t too bad. I mean this happens to me from time to time. Please don’t make it serious.

Sometimes I feel like telling others how I feel so that I can be taken care of. On the other hand, I sound weak and pitiful. It makes me feel so small and I start to lose my independency and confidence.

I know the only thing I can do know is the rest and visit the doctor. Like other people here in my country, there are two main concerns I am considering. First, if I don’t exercise, it is hard for me to gain weight and muscles; therefore, I expectedly will fall sick again. If you follow my blog, you know that I get sick easily. That’s why I have been changing my daily routines and started going to the gym. Second, we don’t have healthcare to cover the hospital cost. Don’t get me wrong. We do have something called បសស (government insurance); however, not many use it here because it is hard to process the documents, and they don’t really care much about you since you are using public healthcare. I know this should not happen anywhere around the world, but I does happen in CAMBODIA, the Kingdom of Wonder.

My positive mindset almost comes to an end. I have had really little faith in life now. Please make it pass, so I can continue living and continue to find the purpose of our existence.

When I woke up

This isn’t new to me anymore; feeling weak, temperature rising, and taking medicine. Life has been this way and I am used to it. I am told that I was born a dead baby. I didn’t make a sound when I was out of my mother’s womb. My mother cried and my grandmother folded me with the blank sheet. I was left on the bed next to my sobbing teen mother. People were discussing how I should be buried and how they could help my mother feel better. I have heard this stories a thousand times and never once believed it.

Last week, this story came for a visit and it caught me by surprise. Again, I found myself in a hospital. I slept there for half a day. I went to work the next day. I found some red dots all over my body so I went back home. Before I knew it, I ended up here on the hospital bed once again. This isn’t the last bed I slept on. It’s the new one with new doctors and nurses. New building and new room.

Been asleep for hours that makes me feel dizzy and weaker. The more I sleep, the sleepier I become, and the more I try to sleep. I eat and sleep and eat and sleep.

This morning I woke up again feeling lost and felt distressed and anxious. However, there is a space where I always look out to; the window. I love looking at it and see things. Each time I look at it, I see different picture, perspective. Tell me what you see when you looking out the window.

Chapter 1: How I became an ESL teacher (Part 2)

I know what you are thinking. Was I a good student? Take a good guess. I studied from dust to dawn. I took as many extra classes as my money said yes. I rode a bicycle to school. If you were me, you would have quit school, not because it was too far for a small boy to journey, but because I was riding an old secondhand female bicycle. If this does not discourage or shame you enough, it was shiningly red. I was bullied for that. However, this taught me a great lesson in life. “If you are poor and weak, people we laugh at what you have and who you are.” Just to be sure that we are on the same page, that was not the reason I became a teacher. 

You can already tell how good a student I was. I rarely spent my money on gamblings, not a single cent until I discovered JXII by Sabay. Oh boy! I was hooked, and so were many other kids. That was when I changed school. I was in high school and still the youngest in class. The reason I was always the youngest was that I skipped second grade. I had been good until I got in secondary, something had changed. I felt more relaxed and took things easy. My studies started to lean to negative, but no one knew because nobody really paid attention. Yes, old folks should start paying attention to their kids’ studies. NOT the grades, but the study performance. 

I played online games, and I started to do more sport. My favorite was volleyball. I would rather miss a test, but not my volleyball matches. I learned how to gamble slowly. We bet small money, not because we wanted to, but because we only had that much. Even though I had been playing games and sport, I was good at neither of them. I don’t inherit this sporty talent from my dad. He once was watching me playing in front of our house and shook his head like he was stung by a wasp. I immediately knew how ashamed and hurtful he was standing there witnessing how terrible I was at the sport he was good at. 

All that nonsense out of the way, I was an innocent teenager. I could just break a window and be pitiful so that no one was going to blame me. I was good at it, but that is not what I am proud of. The only thing I am proud of myself is that I went from primary to secondary through high school without a scratch. I never had any problem with anyone. My classmates got into a big fight in front of our class. They were brought to the principal office and some of them were even taken further to the police station except for those whose parents had arrived before the arrival of the police. I was there watching it happen. I saw the whole thing, but I was small and nobody bothered me, nor did they ask anything. Maybe they thought I was not old enough for such a thing. They didn’t want to waste their time.

National exam was approaching in 2010. I was not ready for that big time. Shamelessly, I cheated. Well, everyone did back then. I was not proud of it. To be honest, I could have passed without cheating, but everyone was doing it, so I did it too. Finishing high school was the most exciting thing and the scariest moment at the same time. I had to choose what to study in college. It was a trend to go to university and pursue higher education. It was our dream to be in college; it was the society that made everyone think a college degree was a must-have piece of paper that would eventually help you live a good life. I still cannot tell now, and I am holding two bachelor’s degrees. My message to the parents out there: “Don’t send your kids to college for the degree, NEVER. Send them to college so that they can learn and be wiser in making decisions.” 

Remember when I said nobody really cared much about my studies? Yes, they did after I finished high school. They did not ask how I felt about my studies, maybe they assumed I was doing just fine because I never told, I still haven’t found out yet, instead they, all of them, came to advise me on which university I should go to and which field or subject I should take. It was one of the darkest, hardest moments in my life. I was not even sure about my life, and I had to deal with those people who thought they wanted the best for me. Well, they did, but I don’t think I will EVER do that to my kids or anyone. Deciding for someone because you think it is good for him or her is like taking away his or her lives; Give ‘em back, will you? 

My mother wanted me to be a person who worked in the bank. Yes, she had some friends who worked there and they didn’t seem to look poor. She was convinced that if I became a banker, I would have been rich when I grew older or when I had a family. I still had no idea, neither did my dad. My dad didn’t think about it. He would agree to anything my mother had to say. He was a follower, but more practical than my mom. So these two people were pushing me into it. They even brought me to their friend’s house so that he could explain how I could get into the college and study banking. Well I took it, the advice, and started studying for the entrance exam. 

Nope. That wasn’t it. There was more. My aunt didn’t like the idea that I became a bank employee; you didn’t think I would be the owner, did you? She wanted me to become a doctor. She had always wanted her kids to become one, but none of her kids were good at studying. Her eldest son was a high school dropout. He didn’t like studying that much; he was helping her with family business. Being involved too much with the parents business led him to spend less time with his studies and eventually he lost interest in going to school. To be frank, he didn’t do well even in primary school. Her daughter wasn’t much of a difference from her brother. She didn’t love books and pens, neither did her other two boys. I think it was because the parents didn’t pay attention to their kids’ study. They didn’t spend enough time with their children. Because her kids were not able to become a doctor, she really hoped I could be a doctor some days. She even promised, I don’t care if she could keep it, to help support me while in college. Isn’t my aunty sweet. I love her as much as I love my parents. I was actually living with her at her house when I was little. My parents were busy working. Technically, she was someone who brought me up and fed me when I was hungry. She has been my god-mother, the great one. The list goes on. However, I let her down.

But “how did you become an ESL teacher?” you ask. Wait! Almost there. 

I did; I took the entrance exam at banking college. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it through. I realized that I was as dumb as I had thought. Again, people did not accept it. My family and relatives, especially my mother, thought I did not pass on purpose. For god’s sake. I mean how people looked at me and praised me for what I didn’t really acquire made me hurt even more than failing the exam. I was sad and happy at the same time; I cried and laughed in my sleep every night. To tell you the truth, they all are still thinking that I am a good learner. It is a shame and guilt that I have to bring with me into the grave. 

After failing, things did not end there; I took the entrance exam at Institute of Foreign Languages (IFL) which back then was well-known for its top-notch entrance test. Only students with really good English could attend that school. I was excited; I mean I was good at English, I thought. For the record, I am from Ratanakiri province, the northeast part of Cambodia. There were not many English schools, or should I say English centres, back in my day. I used to go to pagoda to study English with monks. I also used to go to church just to study for free. Those small they-called-schools I had been to closed in a few months after I attended. I actually never finished the legendary English-For-Children book. Fast forwards to when my English started to take off, I attended a missionary school. I studied with a Filipino teacher. I am grateful I met her. Jean was her name. She was kind, sweet but strict. Therefore, when I took the entrance exam at IFL, I was so confident. ‘What could be so difficult about it? Maybe they are just exaggerating about how hard it is to get into it.’ For the second time, I FAILED. 

‘Wait, what?’ Yes, I failed again. My last choice was to attend Royal University of Phnom Penh (RUPP). It was one of the craziest decisions I have made in life. It was a big deal, but I made it sound so easy. Okay, what’s next? Let me study Maths at RUPP. What is so hard about it? I am holding a Bachelor’s degree in science in mathematics from RUPP. Never had a chance to use it, though.

I didn’t give up the IFL thingy. When I was in the first year at the RUPP, I took the entrance exam again. I was more than confident this time because I had been reviewing and practicing the whole year. What is more, I took English classes at Pannasastra University of Cambodia (PUC). I was invincible at that time. This might make you cry, so please have a handkerchief nearby. I MISSED THE EXAM. Yep! I missed it. I thought I read it clearly that I had to take the exam at 9.00 a.m. I got up early in the morning and did things slowly; I took my time. I got to the IFL at 8.30. I thought I was super early until I went to the information board again. I couldn’t believe what I just saw. My heart raced and it beat faster than the clock’s hands on my left hand. I looked at the watch while running towards the building. I got there and was kicked out because I was half an hour late for the exam. Even though I agreed that it was fine for me, the guard just ruined my life. Technically, I did; I was the one who ruined my own life. I couldn’t even cry. Still, as a mama boy, I phoned my mother and told her I had missed it. I thought she would blame me hard like she used to do when I was in high school, but she didn’t. She consulted me and asked me if I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Well played, mom. 

I had to spend another year preparing for the exam again. God, please make it stop! I was a sophomore at RUPP, and I guess I was more mature that time. I was planning things and looked at life more seriously. Finally, I got into IFL on my third attempt. The moment of truth. It was more exciting than when I attended the RUPP class. I worked for it, and the hard work paid off pretty well. You might be laughing at me, but I am telling you, if you think life is easy, you haven’t lived your life a day. Lame!

And the journey to becoming an ESL teacher began. 

Life was full of joy and prosperity. I enjoyed it even though it was not an ideal one. I was doing two degrees at the same time. If you asked me whether you should do two degrees at once, it would be a big fat NO from me. Yes, people have been doing it and they are still doing it, but for what exactly? People seem to care more about what degree(s) they are holding, but they tend to overlook the value and knowledge they get from it. To be frank, I lost interest in my science major. I am still guilty for not quitting it. I was in a dilemma. I was ashamed of quitting; I didn’t know how to tell my parents, so I kept going. However, I spent an excessive amount of time on my English class. I mostly stayed in the Self-access Centre (SAC) at IFL. I knew I would be an ESL teacher in the future, so I aimed for it. 

In my second year at IFL, I volunteered to teach students with little English knowledge at RUPP. For the record, most students in RUPP are from provinces. They study to become teachers; unfortunately, most of them aren’t good at English. I taught them English; I had no idea what I was doing. I was trying to copy what I had observed my other teachers were doing. I have to admit that I am good at imitating. I was parroting my teachers and lecturers with very little skills in teaching whatsoever. 5 months passed, I applied to be a teacher at one small school near my university. I went to an interview for the first time in my life. I was sweating and scared, but hopeful. You can call me stupid, but I accept the offer right away. I was promised $50 per month. As a sophomore, I was proud to earn the money. I didn’t really care much about the number; I only wanted the job. Then came the funny part. On the payday, I was called into the principal office and was handed an envelope. I couldn’t believe it, there was $35 in it. It was strange, so I asked why. She said I hadn’t taught on the weekends, had I? What on earth was she thinking? But why didn’t I quit? You wouldn’t believe this. I worked there for three months teaching only three students. The number of the students dropped consistently each month. The last month I worked there, I only had to teach one student. Yes, just one. It was awkward and boring at the same time. Okay, enough is enough. I quit. 

The adventure didn’t end there. I began my journey at American Intercon Institute (Aii) in the same year. On 13 October 2014, my life changed forever. I had my professional career as an ESL teacher in one of the biggest English language institutions in Phnom Penh. I couldn’t be more proud of myself. My parents told everyone about it. You know, this is what parents do. Aii taught me so many things, professionally and socially. There were the goods and the bads. More on this later. I left Aii to join Australian Centre for Education (ACE) in February 2018. It was another great move I have made so far. It took me years to finally decide to leave Aii, and I realized it was not that hard to move from one place to another. You just need to stop overthinking. Life gives you so many choices; just pick one and move your ass.

_______________________________________ . . .

You have just finished reading the first chapter; how do you feel about it? What are your suggestions? If you like it, drop me an email at meanithnem@gmail.com or leave me a comment down below.

The second chapter is coming up soon. Stay tuned!

Cheers,

Chapter 1: How I became an ESL teacher

Back in the day, I was an obedient kid; I did exactly what my parents told me to. I was quiet and introverted to the point that I didn’t even accept the money as present from my relatives or any other strangers. I dare you do that to me now! My mom still mentions how un-cleaver I was. I never smiled at anyone including my parents. Sometimes they called me mean. I think I have it embedded in my name, Meanith Nopnem, so it does not surprise me much. 

Because of my talk-to-no-one personality, nobody would have thought that I would be a teacher when I grew up, but here I am now. I have been teaching for roughly a decade now. This does not prove anything; I just mentioned it because I can. 

I was a good child and a helpful one. After helping my mother prepare our food vendor behind the school premise, I changed and went to school. I had been doing that for-ever until I attended secondary school. For your information, I was a noodle-soup seller in primary school. Yes, my mother was a teacher, my father was the school principal, but you do not expect us to live off their salaries, do you? Teacher’s salary? You are not kidding, right? Well, you get the point. We had second, third or sometimes forth job to help support our living. I sell bread with milk in my class. I did not like it, though, but my mom made me do it.

To be continued…

Connecting thoughts isn’t easy!

This isn’t clickbait; I just see a lightly different meaning of ‘connecting thoughts’. I mean communicate your and others’ ideas so that we can avoid misunderstanding. It doesn’t sound easy, does it?

Let’s get real, shall we? Communication is the ultimate weapon when things collide. Whenever you want conformation or agreement, do communicate. There are many ways of connecting thoughts; the question is, ‘Are you willing to?’

Ideally, any problems can be resolved if you put enough effort into figuring out the solutions. However, reality doesn’t seem to follow the rules of perfection. There will always be exceptions where communication doesn’t help. The thing is either you or your partner(s) are not willing to compromise. Let’s face it, it isn’t easy as people say, but we should try anyway.

Some people talk but do not communicate. They give unsolicited advices, and take no consideration after being given advices they ask for. This happens more often in daily communication than you may think. People do this without being aware of how it might affect their listeners. We all like to think that we are on the good side; we seem to see a lot of errors in others, yet we fail to reflect on ourselves. We even fail to communication internally within ourselves. Talk to your spirit!

Updating…

I love my son (ខ្ញុំស្រឡាញ់កូនប្រុសខ្ញុំ)

ស្រឡាញ់ (sro-lanh) means ‘love’ in English. It doesn’t matter where you are from, or what language you speak, love represents the same meaning. However, people sometimes tend to misinterpret and take things to the extreme. Conditionally or unconditionally, LOVE should be the least thing that hurts.

On July 16, 2020, something tragic happened to a little 5-year-old girl. Lovely and innocent, a girl was cut from her left to her right cheek, which resulted in more than 100 stitches. If this hasn’t made you get on your feet yet, her right hand also got about 20 or more stitches. She has been in the hospital, crying without understanding what was happening to her. She was in pain and slept in fear. This isn’t about the physical scars she will carry, but the emotional scar that never she will definitely forget, ever.

This incident happened in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, the land of Angkor Wat, the land rich in culture and history. The land of LOVE.

The suspect was a woman who claimed that her little son, aged about 30 months, was injured by the 5-year-old girl two days prior to the tragic event. Her innocent son got 1 stitch on his forehead, which made her exasperated. Frustrated with what had happened, she said she couldn’t sleep and so she went to the market and bought a new knife. You can guess what happened next. She did it to the little 5-year-old girl in revenge. May god forbid! Didn’t she go to far?

Love and hatred go together in life. She loved her son so much that she hated anything that did evil to him. Isn’t that common sense? What would you do?

But wait! If I have to be completely honest, I condemn her for her cruel act. She almost killed a girl because she thought the girl deserve to payback what her son had gotten. For whatever reasons, she shouldn’t have done that. NO! She should never do that at all.

“I love my son.” doesn’t justify what she did to the girl. She is hated by her own race for what she did. She will be in court probably next Monday. Everyone is waiting for her judgement day, and so am I. No matter what she deserves at the end, the little girl will never have a normal life from now.

The love for her son and the hatred towards the girl make her HUMAN, and human is just animal without cognition.

I didn’t mean it

… Some time later, I opened my eyes just to find myself in bed staring at the ceiling without any sheet on. I felt the cold air passing through the window, but I couldn’t tell what time it was. I looked at my clock I got for my 26th birthday, and I was wide awake; it was 7.45 in the morning. I had to go to work. I rolled to the left and both of my hands helped me sit up. I shook my head a few time to get a whole of myself. I knew I was about to be late, so I grabbed my phone to make a call. Tears dropped on the screen and I couldn’t help but collapsed. I again found my back against the bed. My left hand was still holding on to my phone tightly.

“Why did it happen? Why couldn’t I be more careful? Why couldn’t I be more sensitive? It was actually my fault, but she was the one who got the punishment.”

The phone rang, and I realized it was 8. I didn’t pick up the phone; I didn’t even care to check who was calling. I was on my own sitting by the edge of the bed thinking about what happened that night. I didn’t mean to hurt her feeling; she knew I didn’t, but she still did it.