Wednesday, July 23, 2008 23:41
Two sides to a coin. Just like head and tail, both sides often prove to be opposites of each other.
The feeling of being a complete stranger was daunting, but it was just oh-so-familiar. Year after year I was brought to a different environment, where self introduction became some annual ritual. This time was no different. At the end of the day, people knew who I was. Plan succeeded, purpose fulfilled. I emerged a stranger no more.
And then the camp was a blast. Everyone had little stories to tell, and most shared stories in common. That's the whole point of a camp, is that not? Photos were captured to preserve moments of eternity, as well as numerous candid and random shots with random poses just to emphasize how much a camwhore we all were. A team of camwhores, it was surely something. Whenever someone whipped out a camera, that was a cue for my whole group to squeeze into every frame possible. A comical sight it must have been!
Another reason why I think our group was the most remarkable group, is the fact that we were capable of losing every game - I mean really, every single game - but will eventually win all games which involved scissors, paper and stone. This is no joke. For every game that involved brains and brawns, we would not win any. Maybe we lacked both, but had Lady Luck with us.
As I look back, the sweet taste of success and the warm feeling of friendship fostered resurface. Yet some sense of displeasure also tags along.
Two sides to a coin, I reinstate. While most I came across were very much as friendly, as pleasant a person to be around with, there was also thismuch of a bitch that spoiled the fun. You who know me, know me as one who jokes around, know me as one with a controlled temper, am I not? But how would you feel, when one grabs onto one of your harmless jokes, grabs on ever so tightly, and began shooting remarks that came across as offensive?
The scenario went on like this:
So we all got our lunch. When asked why I bought something different from the rest, I jokingly said I did not want my hair to drop anymore by eating something plain and nice. And almost instantly scorching hot flames shot out from three pairs of eyes, that belonged to people who sat at my table. Fine, maybe there was unintended harm, and so I hurriedly said "Just a joke, la. Don't take it seriously." I mean, NOBODY will ever take that remark of mine seriously, had I said it to others. Yet do you know what I get in the end?
"Oh, Ipoh breed is of course different from us." (In an extremely sarcastic, extremely unfriendly manner, in my opinion)
So what if you come from big cities? Does that make you queens? So what if you're blessed with an unblemished skin? Does that make you a princess?
Eh, hello? Excuse me? You retarded or what? Don't even understand a joke and can't even take a joke? Then might as well go back la. Jokes are staple food in my community.
Most fortunately, yes, IPOH BREED is definitely different from you, if THAT is your pedigree. At least IPOH BREED isn't those kind of bimbo who think they are the most desirable when they are actually not. Oh wait, isn't that your pedigree too?
You know why I'm not following the crowd (in this case, the crowd means YOU)? Because I ain't one without brains and I ain't one who will go against my preferences to follow some protocol just to be declared 'your friend'. I'm sorry, if this is your entrance pre-requisite to 'your gang', I have absolutely NO INTEREST whatsoever in joining your league.
Thank you very much. I do not envision a day where I'll ever be talking to you again.
Friday, July 11, 2008 13:46
My last post was published on 5 July 2008. Which means, I've been away from my blog for five freaking long days. Five days it is, yet who realizes my absence?
Out of sheer curiosity I flipped open the music book my sister bought over from her friend. As to what book it is and how my sister lay her hands on it is another grandmother story so I shall not divulge into it. A fantastic book it is, I would say. And I sight read Fantasie Impromptu for the dunno-how-many-th time, and I sighed at Chopin's brilliance, and I flipped through the book, and my eyes stopped at "Funeral March of a Marionette".
A funeral march is never a happy song, much less to be inspiring. To sight read the original funeral march is definitely a painstaking uphill task, but as notes were heard after notes, thoughts started to drift in.
A marionette is somewhat like a puppet. It's life story is but just a part of another bigger story. It's life and death pre-written in scrolls, and it's mere existence is but to follow the scrolls that dictate it's life. Choice is not an option because for a marionette, there is only one path - the very same as written in the scrolls.
I am one marionette myself. How would my funeral march sound like?
Pardon my pessimism.
Saturday, July 05, 2008 12:41
People have been nagging me to write again. People have been wondering the reason behind my escape. Time and time again blogging fanatics like SHUM have urged me to pour more words onto this apparently-deserted hideout.
I was officially unemployed from Monday, 30 June 2008 onwards. No more money coming into my pocket, no more days without nights. Logic tells you (and me) that this should, by right, equate to more blogging, more frequent posts, and even longer blog posts.
HAH. Proves that logic is not always right. Because the reverse happened.
Since the beginning of my long-awaited true holidays, I've been doing what housewives do - send kids to tuition, do grocery shopping, wake up early enough to prepare the kids for school, and even cooking! And then I thought to myself, housewife as a part-time job is not bad at all! Except the fact that such a noble and professional and in-demand job is, unfortunately, never paid for.
No wonder moms are working outside and not in the house anymore.
But I decided to come here not because I want to show you how I can excel in being a housewife.
I think my Facebook is hacked.Either this, or I suffer from severe selective amnesia. Days ago, I received an email notification telling me that SOMEONE has confirmed me as a friend on Facebook. The queer thing is, I did not, as my memory told me, add that someone at all!
Some of you might think, aiya what's the big deal. NO! THIS
IS A BIG DEAL. Because my Facebook might be hacked! But then, who would want to hack my facebook!? For one moment I thought, could it be, could it just be that I really did add that someone, and later just conveniently forgot about it? But seriously, is that likely to happen? Plus, it's not like that someone is someone I will wanna have in my friend's list in Facebook.
So, after rounds of elimination, I still think MY FACEBOOK IS HACKED!!!! Help!!
