It doesn’t hurt to be nice to the photographer taking your class picture. For one, being chummy with him would make his day less snappy. And, if the photographer likes the class enough, he might just go a little further to make sure the pictures turn out stellar.
Alternatively, he might just close one eye and let you guys play with his camera, snapping illegitimate twit-ish shots.
Wizard of Oz: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
Tin Man: But I still want one.
Anyone with siblings can safely tell you this- whenever one of the siblings screws up with the parents and is under fire, the rest should always try to become the perfect little kids to avoid being shot in the guts by stray proverbial bullets that might have ricocheted off the main target.
It is an effective mean of lying low and staying off the radars, which are more than likely to be sensitive and running amok.
I just put this method to the test a while ago and pulled it off.
Lately, I have been watching a lot of Mythbusters and I’m loving every single episode of it. I love Adam’s quirky comments and pseudo accents; I love Jamie’s straight faced humor. Watching things get smashed makes me happy and explosions gets me all exhilarated.
I’m kind of sadistic for science.
Speaking of which, my parents should just sign up for cable. All the re-runs and awful dramas on the free-to-air channels are pushing my threshold for bad entertainment to the limits. I desperately need Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, National Geographic and HBO!
I know there is internet and all, but most of the episodes are hosted on Megavideo, which is a total bitch. The 72 minutes limit thing is gnawing my sanity away, especially since I have not even started watching at all. My hair must be getting longer faster this month from all the tugging.
I was born and raised in an extensively branched, but yet close knitted family system. My grandparents have eight children, my mother being the most senior of the lot. Even though she is the eldest of the eight, I somehow ended up being the youngest fledging, amongst my cousins, and in the whole family tree for over a decade. This privilege fed me obscene doses of pampering from adults in and out of the family.
Maybe this is why it is so difficult to put a finger on which is the first memory I have of my mother. All the dominant memories of the past revolves around being more or less permanently stationed at my grandparents’ place, where I received a holistic education comprising of Academics- my fifth aunt and her comprehensive Chinese education; Discipline- my sixth aunt and her stringent discipline; and Sports- I was an active cheeky bugger.
When I wasn’t at my grandparents’ house, I would either be at my nanny’s place, or one of my mother’s siblings’ place. I stayed at so many places when I was young, I can hardly remember spending my childhood at home- Dad and Mom’s home.
Still, there are two distinct memories I have of my mother.
One of the memory is of the Dining Table Accident.
One night, my brother and I were chasing each other around the house, crawling under the couches and over the desks. I was leaping from one dining chair to another when I tripped over one of the armrests, bringing the chair and I straight down to the marble floor. I fell and hit myself squarely on the chin, which promptly bled like an open tap. I was freaked out and was brawling my eyes out. My mother was freaked out and was brawling her eyes out. I can’t remember how I got to the place, but I eventually had treatments, which culminated at the stitches. I think I was making a huge fuss because they don’t usually knock you out just for stitches. Anyway, the scar is still here under my chin.
Then, there was the Swim Meet Incident.
Like most parents, my mother signed me up for swimming lessons when I was young. Despite my protests and tantrums, she never relented and would always send me to the complex every Sunday faithfully. Once in a while, the complex would host mini competition between the kiddies and again, like most parents, she signed me up- against my wishes. So I took part and competed. My mother was very encouraging. She walked alongside as I swam my laps, giving me support. I was doing fine and was pretty confident that I could win.
Until she gave me a thumbs up.
The next moment, I found myself drowning. (I always chortle in mirth at this point)
For quite a while, I had tried to sort these two memories, and some others, in order of occurrence- but to no avail. I asked my mother about it once, but she was unable to sequentialize the anthologies as well. She was, however, able to tell me that:
It doesn’t matter which comes first, because we have had memories together and will always have more to come.
I love you mom,
Happy Birthday.
Thank god it’s Friday.
It was absolutely fun just now when some of my classmates and I headed over to Teoheng for singing. For the first hour before the girls arrived, it was probably really weird for those who happened to pass by our room, since it’s barely conventional to see 3 XY chromosomes singing karaoke while standing and jumping on the couch. But really, who cares, it was insane and our voice cracked halfway through the first chorus.
And then we saw Utt. He looks much taller in person and has this presence which I revel in.
After dinner, I parted ways with the others, who have decided to cab over to some place in Cathy for Tau Huay. Studies have shown that it is most appropriate to take a little walk after dinner to get the food properly digested, so I alighted one stop later and trekked back home.
Alright, actually I alighted later because I have missed the right stop.
So anyway, I took the road along my Secondary School (Here I go again, always reminiscing) and had a great stroll while studying my Alma Mater in the night light. The buildings were still the same; the same incandescence still bathe the church area ; and the corridors of the upper Secondary block brought back memories. There was this warm tingly sensation of nostalgia.
And something else.
The way the old buildings (specifically the DNT block and indoor stadium) peer from behind the vegetation from the top of the hill never fails to elicit a subtle wave of paranoia and perhaps a little fear, which pushes my strides further, faster. It is kind of ironic since I was getting alternate surges of warm and paranoia from the same entity.
Woah, is that my classroom? The whole place looks so creepy. Hey! I used to climb that flight of stairs everyday. Oh god, was that a shadow I see up there? The PT ground; good times, good times. Overall, I think the good feelings rose above and gain triumph. So there!
From school, I retraced the path I used to take to and from school (My school is a 10-minute stroll away from home), listening to old songs, thinking about St John, Council and 4B, trying to revive some of the past times in me. All too soon, the school was no longer in sight and like ripples, the surges gradually subsides with a final sonorous sigh.
Like all other good things, Anglican is something I will never get sick of talking about. I’m sentimental that way.
I had the greatest shock of my young life just a while ago.
After my laptop has booted up, there was nothing on the desktop. No icons; Zilch. It looked as if my whole laptop has been reformatted.
I swear I felt my stomach fall.
I was absolutely devastated since I hadn’t back up anything and my laptop is sorta like my mini treasury. It didn’t help that I just woke up from my nap and was feeling awfully grouchy or that I had been beating myself up introspectively for quite a number of things.
Then, I remembered the number 1 rule when dealing with a fresh computer issue- restart. It worked, at least for now. Things seem to be back to normal but I’m not so sure about the next boot up.
I hope everything will turn out well.
/
