Filed under: Ramblings
Apologies if it took so long, and if it is too loquacious or voluble, please note that this is a rhetoric. All questions posed here are not meant to be answered. Also, some memories are embellished, and others maybe written in the wrong timeline. If you know of any discrepancies, you are most welcome to keep them.
All complaints will be presented to the kumquat. Talk to the kumquat. The kumquat loves you.
I remember…
When I was 3, I didn’t talk much. I liked to play a lot, and was always receiving snaps to my left hand, as I liked to write/draw with it. My parents didn’t like me being a lefty. I liked to twiddle my hair and stick it into my ear. I was hospitalised because I put a metal button in my ear. The doctors gave me anesthesia, which didn’t work as I was still up and about after 2 shots. I remember being tied up. That wasn’t fun.
I remember not being able to talk properly, but understanding what everyone was talking, and sulking or playing alone at my favourite spot, which is under the kitchen table. I had a little sister, but she was small, couldn’t walk, talk, crawl nor do anything interesting except poop, bawl, eat and make funny noises. She bored me, plus she was taking the attention away from me, with me not being the youngest anymore. I couldn’t do anything much, so I used to follow my big brother wherever he wanted to go. He always wanting to leave me someplace else so he could have fun all by himself.
When I was 4, I went to visit Tok Ne and Tok Atan. My uncle played with me and put me on his lap and tried to teach me the piano. His name is M. Nasir. Then he became famous. I wonder if he still remembers me. It turns out, that there’s a lot of musicians who lived or spent some time in Teck Whye and then, later on, get to become famous. I’m still biding for my time, though. Maybe I’ll be the next star from Teck Whye to make it big. Previously, Ramli Sarip, followed by M. Nasir, then my neighbour Jas Nalo, Eddy Kecik (Cucu Datok Merah), lots of others, Zamberi Patah (Cik Leh) and Faizal (Aksi Mat Yoyo) also included.. then maybe one day… me.
There was one time when my parents brought me along to a jeweler’s shop to have my sister’s ears pierced. The uncle proceeded to pick me up and place me on the glass display table and was just starting to get to work on one of my ears when my mom noticed.
“Hey! Not this child lah,” she said.
“Oh, not this one is it?” asked the uncle. “Looks like a girl, what..”
I was mistaken for a girl. Funny? No. Disturbing? Yes.
At least, I got a packet drink just for being a good girly-looking boy.
When I was 5, I learned to write the word “ren” (people) in chinese. We spoke in a hodgepodge of english, malay and mandarin at school. I had a little red tie, and studied in mandarin. Half the time, I didn’t know what I was doing or supposed to do. It was then, that I had my first kiss. I was in kindergarten. 2 girls were fighting over me, of all people, then somehow they ended up kissing me. One was Malay, another was Caucasian. I was confused, so I cried all the way home.
One time, my brother and I were visiting my late aunt who lived one block away. We took the lift with an old, friendly uncle who chatted a bit with my brother while we were in the lift.
The uncle asked my brother, “This one your sister ah?”
My brother smirked, cocked back his head, then turned to me and smiled.
I looked at him, then I looked at the uncle.
I shouted, “I BOY LAAAAAHHH!!!”
When I was 6, I was chased by a huge rabid dog (believe me, it was huge. At that age, I was tiny compared to that dog) on the way home to school. I saw my late grandad at the void deck of my block, but he was too far away. He saw me running and he yelled ,”Squat! Squat!”
No, that’s not my name. That’s not my. Name.
Naturally, I didn’t squat. I kept running. Along came this Abang Rock, with boots, jacket, and I think probably an Iron Maiden t-shirt. He stood between me and the rabid, foaming at the mouth, barking-like-mad dog, and gave it a hefty kick. He saved my ass, then he bought me a packet drink. He was so cool. I asked for another drink.
This was the first time I watched “Police Academy” on TV. Who can forget Michael Winslow, the beatboxing robot voice manipulating cop AKA Jones, and the casanova, Mahoney or Commandant Lassard? The TV kept hissing and moving, wavy lines kept forming up though. Kept my dad adjusting the antenna or fiddling with the set-up drawer for the TV. I miss those push/click buttons that you could find on old TVs. You know, the cathode-ray tube screen, encapsulated in a wooden (yes, wooden) box, with channel buttons and volume dial on the right. Back then, there wasn’t any MediaCorp, nor TCS. It was known as SBC. The logo looked kinda like a face. Moe Alkaff was on the rise.
When I was 7, a relative asked me what I wanted to be.
I said, “I want to be a singer!”
“Oh really? What band? Pet Shop Boys? Duran Duran? Wham?” he asked.
I replied, “Iron Maiden.”
It’s been 20 years, but I guess Iron Maiden has already metamorphosed into a rusted spinster. I’m still an Iron Maiden fan though, rock music being a big part of my early years. My late aunt (who used to babysit me, God rest her soul) loved Iron Maiden, Bad Co, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Rainbow, Rusty Blade, Sweet Charity, etc… and heavily influenced what I listened to before I sleep at night. I love em too. Still do..
My first day of school consisted of facing multiple kids with the IWTGH (pronounced ee-oo-tug-h) syndrome. They were crying and flustered and quite a few were shouting at the top of their lungs, in their own tongues, “I Want To Go Home!”
Yeah we buddied up, seniors from primary 5 who were supposed to “show us the ropes” during recess. My senior brought me to the canteen and then he dumped me. So there I was, wandering around a huge place, filled with other monkeys in uniform, and I was having the time of my life. I didn’t know that we were supposed to assemble at the courtyard after recess, and then get back to class. So there I was, still exploring the canteen after recess, when a teacher found me and picked me up, and sent me back to where I belonged. I thought, “Class? Man, it’s gonna be a long day.” Little did I know, it was gonna be a long TEN years worth of classes.
When I was 8, I was playing with my cousin at the stairwell near his house. He hit his head on the railing of the stairs, lots of blood came out of his head. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to patch him up using the bubblegum that I was chewing. Then his mom came and took him away. I thought he was gonna die. I cried.
I had another cousin, a year younger than me. We always hung out together. We rapped, played soccer, watched wrestling together. We sang the Singapore “Dream Team” song (Jang Jung sweep you off your feet uh) together and rapped along about chocolates and tic tacs with the Kopi Kat Clan singing “Why You So Like That?”
Kids were so into He-man, Ninja Turtles (oh, we boys really did love April O’Neil), Transformers, My Little Pony, Cabbage Patch Kids, Carebears, Glow Worms and the such. I would grouch and complain every time when my sister would want to watch Carebears, but I secretly counted down with them (Carebear countdown.. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1) in the themesong, and whenever they needed to use the famous Carebear stare, I would wiggle my tummy too, to see if anything came out. All that ever did come out was maybe wind.
At 9 years old, I was bullied by kids at school. I got so angry that I initiated a fight. Eventually I got walloped pretty bad, but they didn’t mess with that shorty with curly hair anymore. I guess they didn’t like kids who bite… and never let go. I went home and listened to my favourite tape, Rusty Blade’s Awas, freaking out on the crazy riffs on Makhkota Sukma, followed by Loudness’s Hurricane Eyes, starting with Let It Go and ending with Black Star Oblivion.. I was messed up.
I was buddies with Zool, Halifi, Norlina, even Hongwee (Frick). Had some adventurous times, skipping Saturday tuition for fun at the monsoon drains. Cycling through jungles and the undeveloped areas of then Choa Chu Kang. It was at this time that I discovered that boys must have a certain attitude about certain stuff. I discovered Back To The Future, Indiana Jones, Escape from New York, Mad Max, James Bond, Conan the Barbarian and much more. I discovered Machismo. I discovered how to be a Man. Now, if only I could do it right..
When I was 10, I was in the 2nd last class of the standard. In short, I was among losers. Inspired by stuff I saw on television, specifically a movie titled “Young Einstein”, I had the bright idea of making myself smarter by taking an old speaker cone, inserting the two red and black wires into a socket, turning it on and place the speaker onto my head.
The speaker cone didn’t get anywhere near my body, except my hand though. I was electrocuted, the flesh on top of the joint of my thumb fused together, my hair de’curled and went (and stayed) awry, and grandma said blue sparks were coming outta my hair (which at that point in time, was standing on end), ears and fingertips. Thank God for circuit-breakers. In a way, I did get what I wanted, though. The year after that, I graduated to primary 5B, then 6A, where I was offered to get into the EM1 stream. Incidentally, in this year I was heavily into the song titled Jane by the local (but now defunct) band, Kick!. Did you know the lead man was (former DJ) John Klass, and the popular malay artist, Jai, was part of the band too?
People were raving about this movie with a huge fish that would jump when this one boy lifted up his hand, so me and some of my friends went out to watch it. It was my 1st time out for a movie. I was shivering, my teeth were chattering, my hands were all clammy and my throat was quite dry. No I wasn’t nervous. Nobody told me that day not to wear just a skimpy shirt and shorts. As we exited Jurong Entertainment, we walked together in silence. Sure, in retrospect, Free Willy was a good movie, but it was so dumbfounding when most of us couldn’t really follow what the cast was saying. I remember thinking (in Malay) , “Man. I really need to improve my Ingrish.” Haha.
I was 11 when I first noticed that I couldn’t really see that far anymore. I thought everyone saw the way that I did. I remember seeing fuzzy and blurry purple and green outlines in the distance and thinking, “what the hell is that?” When I got closer, then I could see oh, it’s the mama from the cornershop wearing a green jacket with his purple sarong.
At this age, where kids my age were still busy playing kuti-kuti and battling spiders, my aunt brought me to a Rusty Blade concert (I don’t recall where), one of the last ones before they broke up. I really enjoyed the music, I just wished they didn’t stand too far away.
Aaron Kwok, Jacky Cheung and Andy Lau were battling it out on the airwaves to be King of Mandarin Pop. Reddiffusion was in it’s last stages of withdrawal from the public eye. 98.7fm was still known as Perfect 10 and Glen Ong was funny as hell.
Concave Scream and Forced Vomit were nationally recognized, the Padres, Lizard’s Convention and the Humbackback Oaks were almost famous. I loved the Substation.
I was 12. The song, “Angel In The Night” by Lovehunters was getting heavy airplay on local radio. It was at this age when I realised that this girl I supposedly “hated” and played pranks on since I was 8, was actually… attractive. I didn’t know how to acknowledge my feelings, nor go about telling her how I felt. So I did what I did best. I played more pranks on her. She thought I really hated her. One thing led to another, and somehow, we ended up going steady. Now, the only “steady” I knew was “Rock Steady” by Bad Company, so, in the pursuit of unexplored and unattained knowledge of relationships, I asked my peers, “what do I do now?”
Most said, “I don’t know, you’re on your own,” them being members of the He-man woman haters club.
One said, “Don’t worry. Go with the flow. Anyway, in 15 years time, you won’t even remember her name.”
He was right.
Not only did I forget my 1st XGF’s name, I don’t even remember HIS name anymore.
PSLE was around the corner. The suspense was, in some ways, obvious in some people and nonexistent in others. I studied. Not that hard though. I was supposed to make it seem easy as I was in the top class of the standard. Still had time to catch frogs and spiders, seek adventure at the monsoon drains and railway tracks, fly kites and dig for worms. I had a girlfriend and I did not know what to do about, or say to her. In the end I scored 4 B’s and 4 grade 2’s. Haha. BBBB2222.
At one point, I realized that this was the end of a “Period” for me. No, not the bloody type.
No more starched shorts. The loss of good friends made over the 6 years, half of my life, in school. By next year everything was going to be different. Goodbye, Jalan Teck Whye Primary. Hello Bukit Panjang Government High.
The year was 1995. At 13, I was still short. The growth spurt that was supposed to happen still hasn’t kicked in yet. I was in high school. One thing remained the same from my time in primary school.
I was still wearing shorts.
First week of school was.. weird. I was lonely, didn’t see any of my primary school friends.
I sat down on the corridor in front of class, facing the drain and staring at a patch of grass. It was before “bellring”. Man… I have not uttered that word for so many donkey years. So, it was before the first bellring during one of the days of the first week at secondary school, and I find myself lonely with no friends and nothing to do but stare at an uninteresting patch of green. Along comes this bald fellow, plops down right next to me, extends his hand and smiles.
“Hi! My name’s Hafiz,” he says.
He was the first fellow student to acknowledge my presence that whole week.
I shook his hand and introduced myself, uttering my full, girly-sounding name.
In that moment, while shaking his hand, something happened.
There was a moment of confusion. Noise, laughter and commotion.
The bell had rung.
And no, me and Hafiz (aka Bob) didn’t become best friends.
I remember sitting amongst a group of lefties. Me, Kelly Chan, Arfan Farudi and Felicia Lai Yu Lin, in an inverse T formation. It was funny. When we were writing an essay, most of the class would lean to the left, while the 4 of us would lean to the right. Haha. You won’t get it.
During this time, my mom got pregnant and had my sister. She was 40. My mom, not my sis. I felt old. No longer being the middle child, yet not knowing where to place myself, I engrossed myself with having fun. That was why I joined the Scouts. Man, was I so wrong. Still, there were the Girl Guides.. oooh yeah… the Girl Guides.. mmm hmmm..
Raymond (Ee Joo Tat) was a good friend. Went to his house a lot, to surf the net. He read lots of comics. Still do, I bet. Arfan and Azmi were my chums. Played soccer near Idaly’s house, at the covered area (pondok) which we commandeered for pre-futsal but futsal type soccer. Ashar, Bob, Hasry (Mar), Dol (my distant cousin, Abdullah Al-Hady), Farid and quite a few others were regulars.
Oasis ruled the charts. Kurt Cobain was mourned.
In secondary 2, nothing much had changed, except for my perspective on school, which was a bore.
I abhorred going to school. I mean, how many subjects are we supposed to take? It all seemed so easy in the TV shows, but in real life… bleagh.
Had to be assembled in the multi-purpose carpark/courtyard/assembly area by 7.15. If you’re late, you get detention. School ends around 3 or 4 in the evening, and most of the time, you had extra classes or extra-curricular activities (for me, it was being a Scout). By the time I reached home, it would be around 6 or 7pm.
I recall the first time I got detention.
It wasn’t so bad. I was the only one it the room.
I was late for school one too many times, so I got booked. So what? It’s just detention. Little did I know that it would be the start of many, many detention periods to come.
I had arguments (non-violent nor volatile) with Felicia and Jahan, mainly because I recognise and acknowledge their “powderful” control and usage of English and wanted to “up” my linguistic capabilities. Also, they’re the only girls in my class that seemed to treat me like a normal person. They’d talk TO me, not AT me. I dislike yappers. Jahan taught me the meaning of the word “absorbent”. I was so dumbstruck at that time. What kind of word is ABSORBENT? Who invents these words?
Hong Wee (Frick) and Dick (EnSheng) were so into basketball. Renshun (Tom) and Woon Bock (Keith) were good at soccer. Azlina was the perfect example of a model student. Hanim, the quiet and reserved type. Rafeah was always with Jahan, and Rafizah was the soon-to-be sports superstar.
I looked forward to Saturdays. I loved the adventure aspect of the Scouts, but why were we supposed to march like some commie outfit? Still, there was always the story-telling sessions by our Scout master (I forgot his name, oh my) and the knick-knacks that we would build as a team. And yes, there were always the Guides… Wait a minute. I think I sat next to a Guide in class. Kelly, weren’t you a Guide? Felicia too, right? Ever wondered why me and Arfan were Scouts? Haha..
My baby sister was so cute at that time. She was almost 1 and was so… fat. Maybe that’s why her name is Fathiya. haha.. she looked kind of like a cross between the Michelin Tyre mascot, the Stay Puff marshmallow man and a healthy malay baby. She liked to put her lips together and pout. She was so cute, too cute I might add, that everyone (me included) insisted on stuffing her full of food. This practice continues to this very day, but at a lesser frequency. She’s 13 now, and not so fat. Still cute though.
I was 15 when something really amazing happened.
Quite a few somethings actually.
First day of secondary 3, I was accused of attempted suicide. Mr Tan (or famously known as Tiger Tan) the discipline master, saw me standing on a railing of the third storey.
“Don’t jump!” he bellowed, and then he rushed up the stairs.
I thought to myself, “Okay..” and I stayed my ground. Or railing, rather. He reached the railing upon which I was standing, and pulled me down to the corridor floor.
“Are you crazy? You want to kill yourself, is it?!” he half-shouted.
I was groggy, I had dust up my nostrils and my eyes and nose were red from dust exposure. All I could do at that point in time was try to hold my breath, because I didn’t want to sneeze at the DM. Maybe he mistook this for another reaction, so he dragged me to see Mrs Fernandez, the teacher in charge of student counselling. Me, being me, went with the flow. I mean, it was a good way to pass the time, with everyone else doing spring cleaning. I mean, it sure was better that cleaning the louvers. You know, those metal slits usually situated above a railing, to prevent the rain from spilling over? I thought, maybe it was better to be labelled “crazy” rather than spend the rest of the day standing on railings and cleaning louvers. Now you know the real story.
I met Fairuz (who was in my class, by the way). Got chummy with him. No, not that way, you kinky person you. He became my best friend, and continues to be the best, up to this very day. Does that boost your ego now , buddy? Haha. He was an anti-social, restive, bad boy – tough guy rebel. I was the spectacled, nerdy, touted-to-be-crazy, weirdo with multitudes of useless knowledge and a record with MOE for attempted suicide, therefore getting a huge berth in the school’s discipline department and paying only 2 days a week for counselling (where I found out that I was probably mildly autistic. Cool. Maybe that was why I was good at picking up motor-intensive skills). It was a good deal. Anyway, we hit it off, almost immediately. He was oh-so-tough and macho, but beneath that gruff exterior, there lies.. a bad-mouthed, sublime and introverted soul waiting to explode and take it out on you. Oh, did I mention? He’s quite soft-hearted and affable.
Incidentally, a few of my friends from primary school were in my secondary 3 class too. Namely Hanim, Norlina and Hongwee. I’ve never quite known Hanim that well, but I do know that she has nice hair. Norlina, I treated like one of the boys. She was a great friend. Me and Fairuz and Hong Wee usually stuck together. Maybe because we’re the most troublesome out of the whole class, or maybe because we’re graded the bottom last 3 in the whole of secondary 3. A league of losers? We didn’t think so. This was the same 3 people who actually brought their physics homework when the rest of the class didn’t. Sure, granted, we were usually the ones to drive ol’ Mr Wee mad, but that incident actually made him step out of the class and cry in front of the door. So, out we went, the 3 most notorious students of secondary 3 (express stream), and we tried our best to pacify this male, obnoxious, not to mention sometimes smelly, teacher who was crying in front of the class door because the class didn’t bring his pre-assigned homework. “Don’t let them get to you..” I said. Fairuz even said, ” ‘Cher, you must be professional…” The 3 of us murmured pacifying words and sounds to this one teacher who loved to pick on us, and vice versa. In the end, he left us with 2 whole periods (1 period = 45minutes) of free time as he made his way to God knows where. I think he wanted to go home. In retrospect, it was so funny, but at that point in time, I guess the 3 of us were serious and genuinely concerned. Whoah. I can still remember taking jibes at him, and at other teachers, usually at their expense. Mr Wee was the worst I ever picked on though. He usually became the butt of my jokes, literally. At one point, he was forced to write on the board while facing us, because everytime he turned around, we’d laugh at his butt. Maybe the wet patch had something to do with it. I guess, without me in the class of 306/406, it would have been a very dull 2 years for the class.
I had my growth spurt (another funny english word). Finally. In 1 month I grew an amazing 20-odd centimeters. Not regular. Just odd. No one can call me “Shorty” now (insert evil laugh here).
Eugene and Hong Wee discovered that they were smokers. They found out about other smokers too. So every morning, before school, there was at least one smoker’s convention held at various locations surrounding our school. Usually it’s at the 2nd or 3rd storey of a nearby block.
Recess was a rush for food, for most people. For me, my buddy, and some of our friends, it was a whole different matter. Being part of a faction of rebels, we’d find a place to smoke (toilets, technical block, backstage, roof) then sit around to chat. Only when there was 5 minutes left till end of recess, then we’d buy our food (usually at the vegetarian stall) and drinks, finish it in 3 minutes flat, then assemble at the courtyard, timing our burp with the “end of recess” bell.
My baby sister could finally walk on her own, but still wants to be carried around, especially when she’s tired of walking. My dad couldn’t carry her much anymore, him being too far along the years to do much lifting and my sister being too far along the weighing scale to be lifted much. So it was up to me to carry her around. In a way, she helped me keep in shape. No need to go to the gym much. When my family were holidaying in KL, I was the one who had to carry her everywhere. Sure her stumpy little feet could get her around, and she looked so cute when she was walking, but she sure couldn’t walk around much. When a stranger or a person she wasn’t familiar with wanted to talk to her, she used to walk up to me, wrap her hands around my leg like a koala bear, and say, “Abang Apit”. It was so cute. She only reached up to my knee, and she was so… round, people can’t help laughing.
Take that released their “Best Of” album. Which I bought. Go ahead. Laugh at me. I liked N’sync. I thought they were better that BSB. Oasis was THE band of that year.
One day, I was going to my late aunt’s place, just a block away, on top of a small hill. It was around maybe 8 or 9pm. I was at the lift lobby, waiting for the lift (what else?). The lift arrived. Then this really attractive girl steps out of the lift, accompanied by her brother. She looked at me. I looked at her.
She walked away, presumably going home, but she held my stare. I held her’s. I tried to push the button, the one with the orange light, looks like an orange mentos, to hold the lift open while still staring at her. I pushed the button multiple times. I missed. Multiple times. I failed to keep the lift door open. The lift went up again. I was still staring at the girl. Then she went down the stairs down the slope and disappeared from my sight, but not out of my mind. No, never from my mind.
I didn’t see her again until one day, seven long years later. I was so surprised to see her. I didn’t think that she would remember that special moment that we shared seven years ago at the lift lobby. Why should she remember me now? Especially at a website called wholivesnearyou.com .
She was my neighbour.
We live in the same block.
Now she’s my girlfriend.
I was sixteen. My voice didn’t go as low as I expected it to be. Arfan’s voice was middling between a tenor and baritone. I joined a rock band. Started off playing percussion for them. Then guitar, keyboards, bass. I picked up quite a few stuff.
I was condemned to sit in the center of the class by our form teacher, The Ultraman himself. I forget his name. I’ll just call him the Ultraman, cos he looked kinda like ultraman but without the lighted-up eye goggles and the signature fin on top of the head. He should get one of those fins. It’ll look good on him, especially since he’s lacking a bit of stuff up there.
I was among 3 people who didn’t have a desk buddy. I was situated in the centre of the class, maybe so everyone could look at me, so I would feel ashamed or something. They got it wrong. I loved the attention. Especially when I was quipping or commenting on something the teacher said. Hong Wee sat in front of me, Eugene at my back. Way at the end, sat Fairuz with his desk buddy, Yaolin (Sarah). Damn was he lucky.
I had nobody to talk to during class, no way of passing stuff to people beside me, couldn’t interact much with the people in my immediate vicinity, so what I did was, I interacted with everyone. I joked. I made rude comments. I wanted people to notice me. And boy did they notice.
At this time, Fairuz and I were already quite infamous in school. It’s either “the guy with Fairuz” or “the guy with Asfi/the crazy dude/the suicide boy” for us. You either know of one or both of us.
I stalked a girl I liked. Followed her home. Waited for her at her MRT station. Even accompanied her back on the train ride home. I got rejected, of course. Obviously, who’d go out with a stalker? I know I won’t, especially since after I got myself my own stalker. Now I’ve had my encounters with bullies, rassled with other tough guys and faced down the Discipline Master himself at school and outside, but I’ve never felt so nervous, so creeped out as when I had this one girl waiting for me just after I leave my house to go to school, and following me when I went home. I even resorted to hanging out with Fairuz and his girlfriend after school so that I could shake off my enigmatic stalker, who never did come forward to talk to me, instead, opting to leave notes and watching me from a distance. She scared the hell out of me!
I wasn’t that much active with the Scouts anymore. Was getting bored of the same old stuff, but I did try my best to attend the campfires. Campfires are loved… haha. Arfan had a crush on Kaixin. I think he made the move during one of our combined Scout/Guide camps. We had to cook our own food, with whatever ingredients the team leaders had given us. There was one time when all we had were rice, fried chicken and boiled cabbage in salty water. Admittedly, it was nice. Then again, hunger is the best sauce/spice/condiment in the world. On one of those camps, during a nightwalk held at school, the juniors had to walk in the dark in a group of around 8. 4 scouts and 4 guides. There was this one area at a stairwell where I was supposed to scare them a bit while they were going up the stairs, in whatever fashion I could come up with. So I dressed up in black jeans, a black sweater, scrounged up some black cloth at draped my head and let it loose at the shoulders, kinda like a cape. I tied a rope (scouts are good with knots, you know) at the upper end of the stairwell and secured the other end to myself and waited at the top of the stairs. When I could hear the juniors starting up the flight of stairs, I swung over them and let loose my most godawful rockmetal roar and sailed over them like a bat out of hell.
2 of the boys screamed like little girls. They sounded a bit like Charlotte Church. 1 of the girls fainted. Another boy ran down screaming ,”Aaaaaahhh!! Mmaakk!!!” (That’s malay for Eeeekkk!! Mmommyyy!!). The rest were just dumbstruck. I had to climb the rope back up to release the knot, get back down to attend to the fainted girl and find the wimpy boy who ran screaming for mommy. It was a fun night.
The Ultraman said to me once, “Asfi. I don’t think you’re going to pass your O levels maths.” I didn’t reply when he said that. Maybe because I thought it was true.
So it was quite a surprise when he handed me my O level results and told me, “I knew you can make it. Congratulations!”
I was thinking, Apa dia merepek? (what’s he bullshitting about?)
It was when I opened up the results slip when I knew. I passed my O levels maths. After 4 years of failing math, I finally passed it when it really counted. Boy was I relieved. I thought my mom was going to kill me if I failed my O’s. The killing came later on in my life, anyway.
All in all, though it was a good 16 years of life. This world’s only temporary. I’ll have lots more memories that I could reminiscence when I’m old, and I know that when I leave, I’ll have left a lot of memories of me behind. I write this, so that maybe, when I’m really old, I could read it again and it’ll bring back sweet memories of a distant past, that now already seems so far away.
I’ll remember faces and characters in my past. Those that helped shaped who I am in the early stages of getting to know who I really am. Nosce te ipsum. Know yourself. I value that quote. So should you.
That’s it people!
Kudos to all that I’ve mentioned, and if you aren’t mentioned here, then it’s allright. Maybe I’ll write about you in a later note, maybe not. Who knows?
You are all remembered..
Filed under: Ramblings
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God gave rock and roll to you – Kiss
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul of everyone
Do you know what you want? you don’t know for sure
You don’t feel right, you can’t find a cure
And youre gettin less than what you’re lookin’ for
You don’t have money or a fancy car
And you’re tired of wishin’ on a falling star
You gotta put your faith in a loud guitar
Chorus:
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Gave rock and roll to everyone (oh yeah)
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul of everyone
Now listen
If you wanna be a singer, or play guitar
Man, you gotta sweat or you wont get far
Cause its never too late to work nine-to-five
You can take a stand, or you can compromise
You can work real hard or just fantasize
But you don’t start livin’ till you realize – I gotta tell ya!
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Gave rock and roll to everyone
God gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to you
Put it in the soul
(instrumental break)
God gave rock and roll to you (to everyone he gave the song to be sung)
Gave rock and roll to you, gave rock and roll to everyone
God gave rock and roll to you (to everyone he gave the song to be sung)
Gave rock and roll to you, saved rock and roll for everyone
Saved rock and roll
Chorus repeats out…
——————————————————————————————
I first listened to this song when I was 8 years old, and I feel that this song has always held some special meaning for me.
A lot of people, close ones, family and friends, have given up on me some time or another, in the two score and more years that I have been walking this earth.
I’ve even given up on myself sometimes.
But always, I discover that there is one thing that I won’t, and can’t let go of.
The melody brings me back from the deepest pits of self-hatred.
The riffs take me higher, the basslines take me deeper.
The beats start me moving on.
Even though I’ve fallen and been stepped upon, even through losses and calamities, though numerous failures I have endured, I believe I will succeed.
I gotta put my faith in a loud guitar.
Rock and roll, baby.
Rock.. and roll.
Filed under: Ramblings
Last Sunday I went to Eddy Kecik’s (from the band Cucu Datok Merah) wedding.
It was like a local musician/celebrity fest.
Addy Cradle Rasidi was there with his band. Man Toyak, Cats in Cradle, Jas Nalo, the rest of Cucu Datok Merah, Edmusyita, famous soundmen, etc, and me.
Too many to list down. Wish I saw Paul Danial though. Wait, I take that back. I wish I saw Paul Danial play guitar there.
Wish I brought a camera too. Eddy and Eva’s wedding was grand. The stage was, quite literally, a stage and it was quite a big one to boot. Eddy even had his Fender Strat (if I’m not mistaken) on display near the stage.
Rock hits were belted out during the wedding, on and on.
I could have stayed there for hours, but I had other responsibilities to attend to. Sigh.
One thing that the wedding reminded me of is my own wedding.
That’s just it.
I haven’t had one yet.
I’m sure I will get married and have my own wedding, blah blah blah and all.
The big question is, when will it be?
And the smaller questions are quite tough too.
How grand will it be?
How many people to invite?
Who do I invite?
Which make-up artist?
1 tent or 2?
Which caterer?
DJ or band or both?
Can I invite my facebook and friendster friends?
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…
And last, but most definitely not the least…
How much?
The pressure’s getting to me.
My older brother and my younger sister are already married. With kids to boot!
A whole lot of my friends are married too.
My gf’s cousin is getting engaged and her bestfriend’s getting hitched soon.
I feel like I ain’t got ’nuff time.
And money too.
Sigh.
Money, money, money.
Always sunny.
In the rich man’s world.
All the things I could do,
if I had a little money.
It’s a rich man’s world.
Filed under: Ramblings
Truth is simple.
Truth hurts.
therefore truth simply hurts.
Rain pours down
Silver rivers run
Face the emotions burning your conscience
Fluttering in the winds of fear
Muttering sweet nothings into your ear
A tear
Slowly forms in blinding silence
Encapsulating fair gentle violence
Defines the penance
And hateful relief
One which you partake with blessed spite
Omit that which to you is trite
Feel the light
See without sight
You might
Not be alright
Do you hear?
The movement of the year?
As it passes you by
Brushing along you as you whimper and cry
Why ask why?
Why do you wonder?
As happiness rends you asunder?
Thoughts are cold and wandering souls they quiver
Beg for more
Make your hands quake
Go skinny dipping in the lake
Full of thorns and purple seaweed
Drink your fill
Fake what you need
Arise, maiden of the morning moon
I want to touch you again so very soon
I salvage the remnants of my pillaged heart
That you may shape it into deprecated art
And leave it behind for the hounds
Bind me
In whips of loving embrace
Kiss me while you claw my face
Provider of carnal grace
Let me taste
that fleeting moment
that I may bring it with me
when sand dribbles into my eyes
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Location: Singapore
Date: February 7 to September 12, 1942
Event: Battle of Singapore, WW2
Many people nowadays have forgotten, or don’t even know, that the freedom we enjoy, the peace that we revel in, the stability of our nation, was gained through hardship.
Our country is not founded on only the blood, sweat and tears of our forefathers, but also those who came from distant lands, to defend the shores of a country full of mixed ethnicities, of which they didn’t much understand, but they did their job, down to the last man, and if any had any cause for complaint, none were spoken, and none were heard.
In the Battle for Singapore, Australian, British, Indian and local military forces fought off, and subsequently surrendered, to the Japanese, resulting in the Japanese Occupation. Tens of thousands of Allied personnel went down from their bayonets, swords and bullets.
My grandparents and some of my aunts and uncles survived that period.
Their stories are horrifying, yet, gripping.
There was much to mourn for, at that time.
The loss of family, food, shelter.
The mistreatment. The slaughter, rape and pillaging.
Most of all, when the British surrendered, the loss of hope.
They knew, oh yes they knew, that they had no chance of survival without the aid of the “white men”, and they were glad for their help, even though it did turn out badly, these said “white men” gave their best shot at it, trying to defend a foreign land from oppressors, even though it didn’t seem likely that they’re gonna win. Yes, I do respect the local heroes like Lt. Adnan and Lim Bo Seng, but what about the unsung heroes?
In a way, I guess I’m just trying to continue what my predecessors were trying to convey, but have never put in words.
I may not be representing my country, but I do feel that it is right that I should speak for the young people of my country. The descendants of those who were saved by courageous acts of valour performed by Allied personnel stationed in Singapore.
They who have shed their blood and spilled their tears for a land they know next to nothing about of. Those who have defended this fine oriental shores and then found themselves shipped on a train wagon or boat to hell on earth. The ones who made the ultimate sacrifice, of trading their lives for the sake of another country’s freedom. Humanity at its worst, and yet at its best. These people were willing to leave loved ones behind, at the risk of permanently leaving them, for the sake of a country far, far away. These people suffered hardships, brutality and suffering beyond reckoning so that we could live better lives, away from tyranny and war, violence and the such.
These people shed blood in the hope that we wouldn’t need to.
So…
Whatever your mission, whatever your agenda for coming to Singapore was, be you British, Australian, Indian, Chinese, Malay or whatever your ethnicity is, if you had come to Singapore and defended our shores, then I appoint myself to speak for my generation of Singaporeans when I say, thank you for your help, and we sincerely appreciated the sacrifices you have made.
You unsung heroes, whose names I will never know.
Your deeds live on in my country’s independence, freedom, peace and stability.
You may be gone but God forbid, not forgotten.
Even if no one else in my generation has ever said it, or has even thought about it, at least I’ll be among the first to say it, but I hope that I won’t be the last.
Once again, heroes of Singapore, from the bottom of my heart, on behalf of my generation and the generations that are to come..
Thank you.
This post is a homage to all those who defended Singapore against the Japanese in 1942. I hope that it goes out to as many of those surviving veterans of WW2 in Singapore (as well as their families and the families of those who gave up their lives for Singapore) as possible. If you know of any, please convey my heartfelt thanks. It may be too late to offer condolences, but I shall honour them in my prayers and in my life, by living life as free and as hard as I can. I will not avail them their sacrifice to provide us with a chance to bloom, learn and to live.
Live free. We’ve got to earn it.
RK
Filed under: thoughts
Finally I can actually access this darn site.
Would you believe me when I tell you that I forgot my username and password for this blog?
And best of all, I even forgot which email address I registered it with.
That happens when you have 10 email addresses.
Anything more than that, you can’t get anything done.
Well let’s see what I’ve been up to since my last post…
Holy guacamole, batman! It’s been two months since RK’s last post!
I’ve been reading (comics, mostly, but they still count, don’t they?), making music, refining my band’s next album, covering a few songs.
Some songs I’ve covered and translated into my native tongue, which is Malay.
Have a listen..
Sentiasa Cintaku (Always Be My Baby) – Raja Kumbang
You can download a couple of my songs here though:
http://www.savefile.com/projects/808603110
About the comics, lets see.. Recently I’ve finished reading Neil Gaiman’s Eternals, DC’s 4 volumes of 52, Marvel’s Civil War saga and quite a few others. I’m on the lookout for more stuff about Starman and the JSA though. Maybe more of The Authority and Stormwatch (version 2) too.
My favourite comic characters?
Not in any specific order, they are:
Spider-man ………. with great power comes great responsibility. Don’t forget the hyphen. Spider-hypen-man
Thor …………. A courteous, noble superhero who preaches loyalty to one’s friends and to live a good life. Plus, he’s got a wicked hammer to pound baddies with.
Green Lantern (all incarnations, yes, even Guy Gardner) …… one of my favourite DC characters. A mythology by itself. Anyone can be a GL. Just go get yourself the right ring.
Flash (all incarnations) …… I’ve always had a thing for speedsters. And Wally’s romance (and marriage also) with Linda Park is not all so mushy and cliche, but quite mature and pleasing to read about. I feel that it’s better than Lois and Clark’s (for those who don’t know, that’s Lois Lane and Clark Kent/Superman). Too bad about Kid Flash/Bart Allen. Pity he died, but then again, he wasn’t much of a strong character.
Nightwing …… From being Batman’s 2nd Robin to being the Kevin Bacon of the DC universe. Every hero or villain can be related to him by at most 6 degrees of separation. He’s just like Batman, a normal, non-mutated, non metahuman, non-powered human individual who just works hard and uses his quick reflexes, olympic level physical capabilities, extensive martial arts training and feet-on-the-ground gumshoe work to track and defeat baddies. I have to say, I miss the Elvis collar, but I guess that it hindered his vision.
Green Arrow (Oliver Queen and son, Connor Hawke) ….. A plain ol’ guy that can shoot arrows? What’s so cool about that? It’s cool when you have trick arrows like the boxing glove arrow, the super-glue arrow, the bolas arrow, the loop de loop arrow and lots more! Plus, he wears green! And, he’s always off on missions with Green Lantern. What a cool team.
There’s more I could write about, but I’m getting tired, had an awful lot of stuff going on at work just now.
I’m pooped. Time to catch some zee’s. Maybe I’ll dream of wearing a green ring and carrying a nasty hammer, pounding baddies into dirt.
RK out~
Filed under: Ramblings, thoughts | Tags: acceptance, change, life, paradigm shift, understanding
A lot of people say that understanding is the key to a relationship, or change, or whatever else.
I’m one who tests that theory, and I have my own, different findings.
For me, things are quite a bit different.
Change is difficult.
Human Beings resist change.
That’s why we don’t start with change first.
Change doesn’t start with understanding.
It starts with acceptance.
Understanding is a by-product of acceptance.
After you understand it, then you can change it.
So, in order, its:
Acceptance –> Understanding –> Change
I like to call it the AUC flow.
It’s easier to say than Paradigm Shift, huh?
Understanding is important, but you need acceptance first before you can get to understanding it.
You need to accept that a rock is a rock, not water or metal or whatever, before you can understand the what, why, how and when of it.
Let’s look at it this way.
A guy gets sick. He doesn’t admit that he is sick, doesn’t accept it.
Then he gets sicker and makes things worse, doesn’t change it for the better.
Bad, right?
But if he gets sick, then accepts that he is sick, then he’ll understand that he is sick, why he is sick, what he has to do (go to the doctor) to change his situation, make it better. See?
Another example, a fellow who has a drinking problem, but doesn’t admit to it. Can’t change right?
How about the lady who’s a shopping addict, but neglects buying necessities like food for the baby? What should she do, ask the baby to chew on her Prada boots?
A lad who’s overprotective of his girlfriend, but doesn’t know it. Is she gonna be stuck at home 24/7 and not have a life at all?
A young girl who only thinks of her own happiness, but doesn’t really care if other people get hurt or pissed off just so she could get her own way. Should you let it be?
One situation. You have one view of it. Use the AUC flow. Maybe you’ll see different. Same situation, different views.
Like a paradigm shift.
Many examples can be listed in which the AUC flow can be used.
It’s just up to us to do so.
Go ahead.
Change your world.
Change your worldview.
Cheers.
I love to sing.
Though I started off playing percussions for X-zora. Tablas and congos.
Then I went to play guitar.
After that, I played keyboard for the Strangers.
Then, I switched to playing bass and singing back-up with NV.
The thing is, all these 3 bands are essentially the same band, but with just a few tweaks in the line-up.
Haha~
I’m still with NV, as a bassist, back-up vox, music arranger, soundman, sound & recording engineer and songwriter.
But I move all around with project bands here and there, singing my heart out. Rock, pop, 50’s to 90’s, evergreens and such.
I think the term that fits me is “Wedding Singer” cos I play at a whole lot of weddings, malay and non-malay ones.
Most of the time, I sing with minus-1 tracks, but I prefer performing with backliners because it is different, and all the nuances of playing live is what makes live music such a superb experience.
Around 5 years ago, I attended a 5 month vocal grooming and coaching course. Damn bloody expensive it was, but I guess it was worth my money. I couldn’t sing well before, but now…
The different techniques and styles of various genres were taught. Classical, pop, R&B, soul, etc. There was emphasis in Clarity, Diction, Enunciation, Control, Vibrato, Pitching, Breathing, Timing and Balance.
Sadly, Rock wasn’t in the syllabus.
Rock is the one genre that I had to learn by myself.
The grinding, wide-throat voice of Ian Gillian, the high, hollow voice of David Coverdale, the strong, controlled voice of Ronnie James Dio, the tweedy tone of Ozzy Osbourne, the low, rich, throaty baritone of Rob Thomas, the relaxed but still tight pitch of Anthony Keidis and many others.
So many different techniques and styles all in one genre.
What a challenge it is if one is able to sing in all the different styles.
I wish to accomplish that.
Hey, you can call me ambitious, but isn’t a man supposed to be ambitious?
So, to all those about to rock, I salute you.
Meanwhile, sing me a song, you’re a singer…
Filed under: Ramblings | Tags: anugerah band, communication, Connecting, Kings, Semi-finals
Tonight.
Is the semi-finals for “Anugerah Band”.
Yes, the last 6 bands, weeded out from around 200 bands, to perform, on live TV, tonight.
Putra, X-Tech, Trabo (go Aidil! ), Rancour, Fatskunks (go Bogeh! ) and Cucu Datok Merah (go Boy, Anis, Eddy and Fyno! Go, go, go! Alompak agogo! )
No prizes for guessing who I’m rooting for, though. I’ll vote for them tonight! Cheers from Raja Kumbang!
I’m a bit disappointed that Knightwings didn’t pull through. Sorry, A’an, but you guys totally ruled when you were on stage.
During a gig last April, just after my project band’s slot on the stage (I was on vox. My friend AJ was on bass, AOD from Nakalistik on drums and Jas formerly from Nalo on guitar) , I had the opportunity to watch Trabo in action. At that time, I think that their vocalist couldn’t make it, so they had A’an from Knightwings stand in for them. They’re really good, and A’an’s vocals were smashingly superb. Of course, the star of the night was Jatt Ali and Awie.
I am quite a bit piqued at the purpose of Anugerah Band, though. Plus, their official website sucks sour shananas! No updates, and it’s like, semi-dead? And the Malay Daily, BH doesn’t even have news about it. I have to refer to pujanggamalam.com for reviews, how about that?
Anugerah band. Do they want pretty looking guys who can’t play for nuts, or do they ignore the looks department and go for musical ability?
Is it a search for musical talent or a search for a marketable product?
I think that basically, it’s a search for the next big thing. Well, in the malay music industry anyway.
Which, need I remind you, isn’t that big.
Do you know how many malay musicians actually survive on just making or playing music?
I don’t, but barring Rosli Mansoor, Jatt Ali and just a few others, I know that there’s not many.
Most have day jobs. Some can’t even find jobs. Others, can’t even hold a job.
Believe me, I’m living it.
To a lot of us musicians, music is either a sideline, or a very expensive, passion-fuelled, hobby.
But still, it doesn’t mean we’re giving up on it.
There’s always the hope that we could make it big. Maybe be as big as Search, Sweet Charity or Peter Pan or Sheila on 7.
There’s always hope.
Even after 20 or 30 years of playing, the hope is still alive.
That one last chance to show what you’ve got, connecting to the audience on a basic, primal level, stirring their emotions – love, anger, sadness, pain – communicating with words that don’t mean anything much and various simultaneous tones – phased, distorted, driven and boosted – and beats that evoke an inner rhythm not in the ears only, but in the heart and soul.
For an audience, the feeling is akin to being reigned over, ruled upon by a non-corporeal entity made of emotions, triggered by multitudes and layers of sound.
For me as a performer, it is the rush, not of enthralling or wowing the crowd, that excites and fills me, but it is the sense of reigning over them, arousing their senses and making them feel what I feel. Non-linear communication. Connection. In a sense, when a band is onstage and getting wild responses from the crowd, doing their best and feeling “in it”, they’re actually more like KINGS.
Kings of the arena, with the venue as their kingdom, the stage as their throne and the crowd as their subjects.
Rule badly and you and your subjects are bound to suffer.
But, if one reigns with a need to connect, on the most basic levels, to that of one’s fellow man, then all will come out of it much happier, and more connected.
That is why, I aspire to be a king.
Not of any particular kingdom. Or of any particular throne or subjects.
It doesn’t matter where, as long as I am on stage, with people awaiting and expecting a song or two, I will do my utmost best, and with dire sincerity and honesty, to connect and rule.
Witness my reign.
Raja Kumbang.
Filed under: Ramblings | Tags: anugerah band, Api, Cow's Revenge, Music, Projek Rentak, Songwriting
I spilled some milk on my beautiful leather jacket. Now it’s stained. Permanently.
I can’t seem to get it off, no matter how much I try to wash it off.
Cow’s revenge, I suppose.
Did anyone catch the results show of Anugerah Band?
The bands who made it through the semi-final rounds are Cucu Datok Merah, Fatskunks, Rancour and Trabo.
The Wildcard round entrees are X-Tech, Knightwings, Virus Cinta and Putra.
The rest of the bands, are history.
Even Helven. I guess you just have to pick either Heaven or Hell. Can’t have both now, can’t we?
I wonder why Virus Cinta is in the picture again? I thought they were out a couple of episodes ago?
I hope to see CDM in the final round, but I’m rooting for Knightwings too. What are friends for, right A’an?
I entered the Projek Rentak competition, a songwriting contest by COMPASS, Ria FM and Warna FM.
The song I submitted is called “Api Pilihan” (The Chosen Fire ) written by yours truly.
I’m not banking much on it, I just want to entertain people.
So, to be entertained, click the link below.
Cheers!
Filed under: Ramblings, thoughts | Tags: anugerah band, cucu datok merah, growing up, teenagers, teens
Watched Anugerah Band the other day. Didn’t see all the bands play, though. Saw some that were good, some that were bad, and some that were just plain ugly.
I received some flak about my supporting the band Cucu Datok Merah (henceforth known as CDM) from readers and friends alike. Seems like they’re not happy with the band and since I have an affinity for CDM (I like them. I just do. So what can you do about it?), they take it out on me.
I listen to all the criticism, the comments on the vocals, guitars, drums, the bass, the song choice, the costumes, even the features of their faces.
I nod and make some noncomittal sounds. Then I say,” Yup, but I still think they’re good.”
That usually starts off another round of criticism, some even citing references to the members of CDM’s current occupation or previous achievements and such.
Another couple of nods and a few more noncommital sounds later, I’d say something like, “You like tomato, I like chilli, tak kisah lah, yang penting heppi” (doesn’t matter, the important thing is to be happy).
Some have also argued that CDM’s members are all professional musicians and shouldn’t be in the competition even. A very arguable point.
It’s not valid though.
It’s an open competition. So, it means that it’s open to all, be you a king or a street sweeper, as long as your identity card is pink. It doesn’t matter if you have an album or not, if you work in a factory or a club, if your hair is pink and green, it’s open. Though the rules regarding the age limit is practical. We won’t want a fellow rocker to have a heart attack on stage.
Maybe people just don’t like Cucu Datok Merah because they’re too well known? I’m not sure.
I’ve seen Anis (CDM Bassist) play at House of Rock with Ministry of Rock. Admittedly, he’s good. And yes, MOR’s vocalist is actually Jatt Ali, one of the judges for Anugerah band, but if you watch closely, you’ll see that Jatt’s sometimes very harsh on CDM.
Eddy Kecik (CDM guitarist) is quite good, from what people say and from what I’ve seen myself. My neighbour, Jas (formerly from Nalo, now with Six In The City @ One Night Stand) vouches for his guitar playing, so I can safely say that he’s fairly good (come on Eddy, where’s that alternate picking and sweeping ala Malmsteen that I’ve come to know and respect?). The drummer is tight, and the vocalist has got the flair, it’s just 3 piece and 1 vocals, and they play that well, can your band play any better?
And then there’s the talk about them being artists or professional musicians again.
Oh bother.
I’m not defending Cucu Datok Merah because of my preference for them, well, maybe partly it is that, but there’s a saying (that’s wrongly attributed to Voltaire) that goes like, “I may disagree with what you say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it”.
I’m speaking out because it’s a matter of principle.
If you want to take a look at it that way, then X-tech shouldn’t be in because, if I am not mistaken (forgive me if I am) they have an album too. Fatskunks have had their time making albums too. Even Knightwings have their own album (no offence my friend A’an, you’re band is really good, but it’s for the sake of argument). And Helven, with Romey at the helm, didn’t he win the “Best Guitarist” award at Asia Beats? Even though he did drop his guitar pick and went scuttering after it, and then further sent his guitar flying into the crowd in a pale imitation of Yngwie James Malmsteen, he did win (speculatively because no other bands in the finals had guitar solos) that award. And last, not least, these four bands have already participated in numerous competitions and have a distinguished reputation amongst themselves. Sheesh, I should be promoting my own band but here I am, boosting up other’s reps. Well, I’ve always supported the local scene.
All this talk about unfairness is boring me.
Life’s not fair, but it’s got rules.
They played by the rules, so by all that is good and holy, let them PLAY!
I do notice that quite a few of the SMS comments made during the show are quite childish. Then again, most of the bad comments I’ve heard are very.. exuberantly youthful in their negative aspect.
Most probably they’re from the mouth of adolescents, if not babes.
That’s the thing about adolescents. We’re talking young adults.
Yes, teenagers.
Not a child, but not quite an adult.
They seem to think that they know everything in the world, and that they’re smarter than any adult.
I know. I’ve been through that phase before.
Taking myself so seriously, all puffed up with self importance. Proud of what I’ve achieved, rubbing it in other people’s faces, but at the same time, wanting my peers’ attention and approval in every little thing I do, afraid of losing ‘face’ and standing in the complicated teen power structure at school. Thinking that I’m the smartest person on earth, that my parents are dumb, and all other parents are dumb too. That adults are so full of it, trying to do the impossible, which is having unadulterated fun and taking myself seriously. Always laughing at others, but never laughing at myself.
I think that’s the key.
I think that people only really grow up, when they are able to laugh at themselves.
Yes, you have to be practical, and stoic even to get thru hardships, trials and tribulations, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t have a few laughs along the way. It’ll be a very long and lonely journey to the end of the road if there’s no happiness during the travel.
Life is serious, but it’s also meant to be fun.
Think about it. And grow up.
