The Perfect Sculpture

We were all born perfect. Blemish free. We were the 'perfect' marble slab until we began on the journey called Life. A few knocks, a few chips, a few cracks and we are labelled useless! We are labeled redundant. Or a FAILURE!

We parents have mini Protégés which we have been given the gravity-defying responsibility to sculpt. It's scary. How the hell are we supposed to know how to sculpt? I'm not a sculptor. I have no bloody idea on how to sculpt. I had almost lost my finger in the attempt to sculpt.

So we look for help and advice. On one side, you have parents hiring the Leonardo da Vinccis to sculpt a Greek god or Barbies out of their slab of marbles. If the chisel chips 1/1000 off the designated place, all hell breaks loose. The parents would wail and deem all was lost. Their protégé is RUINED! Leonardo would be discarded like a rag and it's-the-end-of-the-world-desperate-parent would look hastily for a replacement. Who is Leonardo by the way?

On the other hand, you have parents who love the smooth, perfect marble slab just as it is. Why bother to sculpt? It's already P.E.R.F.E.C.T! Just sit back, enjoy the wine of life and watch how people walk by and use that marble slab as a table or footstool. Hey, Que Sera Sera. What will be, will be! Chill man.

And now we have over-the-counter-mini-figurines that can be bought. This market has buffet spreads catered to suit your every whims and fancies. You can have mini models strutting in stilettos, mini scientists (think Einstein) and even mini chefs! The possibilities are endless.

So how do I choose?

I chose to sculpt my slab all by myself. 

I am no sculpture expert, not even close to passable. Remember that I had almost lost my finger(s). I'm neither an artist. But I'm a realist. I've chipped off chunks where I shouldn't have. I have caused my slab to crack in places that will cause others to gasp in horror. I have even dropped my slab of marble many times!!! 'Your sculpture is DOOMED!!!!!!' many have hollered at me. 

But I don't give a shit. 

Because with all its imperfections, cracks, chips and whatever blemish that I have managed to incur on my slab of marble, I have the perfect sculpture.

* When shit happens, we make manure!

The Bumble Bee

Bumble Bee was one damn happy bee. Its hive had the whole orchard to itself. There were glorious smelling colourful flowers. The flowers were so colourful that one could go blind by the array and brightness of the colours.

Sad to say as the years went by, the occupants of Bumble Bee's hive declined in numbers at a very alarming rate. Cousin Bee never returned after a day out in Flowerland. Rumours has it that he died after inhaling pollen from some of the flowers which were at the southern parts of Flowerland.

And then Monumental Bee died. Followed by Bumble-li-cious. And then Harmony died. And THEN Muscular Bee died. When something happens to Muscular Bee, you would know that it was something very sinister as Muscular had NEVER, ever fell sick in his entire life. And now he was dead.

The entire colony was on the verge of collapse. Bumble Bee became very sick. No one knew what was killing them.  

Bumble Bee could no longer smell the flowers. It could no longer even fly straight. The sickness was slowly destroying its system. Slowly but surely.

Everyone seemed to be dying off. But Bumble Bee miraculously somehow managed to hang on. It had wanted to die many times. It had wanted to end it all with just one sting. But the remnants of the nest needed him. The little young ones were still so small. 

Thus,  Bumble Bee hung on. Even with the poison seeping into his pores, poisoning every part of his tiny body and soul, Bumble Bee clung on. 

Though everything had died, Bumble Bee was alive. Though nothing was the same, Bumble Bee was.