Sup3rnality

Sometimes I come across albums newly posted on Facebook of schoolmates who just got engaged or married. I don't bother to look into the album, it's a waste of time really. But I cannot help thinking thoughts that are mean, and yet very gratifying, even though they just cannot happen.

Like I said, I know it's mean, and so vengeful, but I look at many a schoolmate, especially the guys who were painfully mean to me, and I feel like sending a message to their fiances/wives to tell them that the guy they are associating themselves with have no respect for a person who does not fit into his viewframe. I feel like telling these girls to make sure men like these don't breed more of such people when they have offspring. There is no more room for people who cannot appreciate uniqueness.

That is, of course, assuming that these girls don't hold the same outlook as the guy they're gonna be hitched to.

I had my share of pain in highschool. I'm sure everybody did. While I don't hold my demons close and dear to me, I cannot accept that there are so many stupid people in the world. And I dread for my children to have to go through the same. I had to go through too much, and while it has made me a better person, this day and age, such pressure could almost kill.

I don't want my children growing up with people who tell you that you are unworthy of being loved because you are ugly and are not of the same standards of certain people. I don't want people telling them they are ugly and fat and unattractive. I don't want my children to be told that the only way to have somebody even give them the time of day, they would need to pay that person. I don't want my children have teachers pick on them because they are not popular or pretty like the others.

Patience, knowledge that I am better than such people, and serenity of mind kept my chin up, even though many times I felt like caving, and believing the words people said. But nowadays, the pressure is high, and not being able to live up to peer pressure takes a deep toll on many kids. I'm afraid of my children's future.

So I often feel like giving my highschool tormentors a piece of my mind. And tell their wives/fiancees also that they should keep an eye out and ensure that no such scum of the earth is brought up. Of course, I can also give them a reason of a doubt and say they're changed now, but well, just in case.

In any case, I have no frakking idea why these people are in my Facebook list of friends anyway. I should definitely annihilate them. Spring cleaning here I come :P


Love,
Linzy

Nighttime is usually reserved for family time. My dad would be back from a long day at work and we'll have dinner and all sit in the living room together. It's like an unwritten rule. We wouldn't be upstairs in the room or elsewhere. Even if we wanted to do something else other than watch tv, we would bring it downstairs to be in the living room; like how I'd be blogging while the my father, mother, brother and sister would be watching a movie or some other tv series.

Tonight we watched a movie called My Dog Skip, which is about a boy, Willie, acted by Frankie Muniz and his Terrier dog called Skip, short for Skipper. The movie is narrated by an older Willie (Harry Connick Jr.) looking back at his younger years starting from his 9th birthday, when he was first given Skip, and he tells of how Skip taught him about life. How with Skip by his side, he matured from boy to young man, became an insecure loner to one of the boys, got the courage to talk to the prettiest girl in town and , and mostly, taught him the value of friendship. Skip died when Willie was in Oxford.

I shed a few tears watching that movie, not because of the movie itself, but because I was reminded of a dear friend that I still miss so dearly.


Sawadikap was a mixed breed Siamese born sometime in 1998. He was born totally white, and developed his brown tips as he grew older. He was a great companion of mine. Loving, loyal, concerned; he never ceased to amaze me with the things he did in his love for me.

Every morning when I had to go to school, he knew the time when I'd come out of the room, cos he'll be there outside my bedroom door, ready to escort me downstairs. When we were downstairs, he'd be right on my heels, following my every move. And when I stood outside to wait for my bus, he would be there standing right with me, the companion by my side til I got on the bus, but not before I gave him a scratch under his chin.

When I got back, he'd be there, too, on the front porch anticipating my arrival. I was always a VIP with him around, with him by my side like a little bodyguard. But don't be fooled, he may be a cat, but he's tough and very muscley. The other cats were afraid of him. But with me, he was loving and took care of me, made sure I was safe. He even walked me to my tuition teacher's house, which was on the street behind mine, and he'll be waiting outside when I was done, and we'd race each other home; him chasing after me madly.

We were inseparable. He was my best friend whom made my life so cheerful each day. He was there through thick and thin. He loved sleeping on my chest or in the canopy of my caftan, he would insist on my picking him up and would roll around until I did, he licked my face when I cried, defended me from other cats and whatever else he deemed was his responsibility to me.

Then I went to MCIIUM, and then moved to Seremban. I hated Seremban and refused to take him there, confident that I would be in Shah Alam more and cos I didn't wanna traumatize him, taking him so far away. But there was where my mistake lay, and I have regrets til now.

I saw very little of him, and when my uncle did renovations to the house in Shah Alam, my Kap got poisoned from all the chemicals that was in the water puddles. Being stuck in MCIIUM and Seremban, it took me 2 weeks to actually go see him after my uncle first told me that Kap was sick. And when I did....

My Uncle told me that Kap already went missing for several days, and I was already fearing the worst, already crying with regret. I sat outside the house for a long time, calling out his name. After so long, he came hobbling back, hardly able to stand. As soon as he reached my arms, he collapsed into a heap, tired from his effort to walk all the way home.

He was dying by then. He was emaciated, skin and bones, and hardly any energy to even lift his head. I was crying non-stop, regret filling every space in my mind, wishing I was there sooner, wishing I had taken him to Seremban with me, wishing I had never neglected him... I took him home to Seremban that night, holding him close, whispering to him not to die, that I would take care of him. But as the night drew on, I knew he wasn't going to make it.

I was awake all night with him. First crying for him not to leave me, saying I was sorry over and over. Then as he looked at me with his wise eyes, tired and weary, I knew in his way he was saying goodbye. I reconciled with myself, all my regrets and all my sadness, and told him it was ok for him to go, that I'd be ok. I held him all night, as I cried, with him looking up at me. His eyes a blue of calm, which saddened me so.

In the morning, around 7am, I took my eyes off him for just a few minutes to open the door. When I turned around, I saw his body jerk, and then he was gone. I sat for a long time holding his lifeless body, crying into his fur.

I miss my Kap. Every now and then, when I am reminded of him, my heart aches, and I would feel that involuntary tear run down my cheeks. The stalwart loyalty he showed, his love and companionship, is something that's hard to find. I failed him in many ways, and yet, he still believed in me. The fact that he waited all that while for me to come home, pained me even more, knowing I should have been there sooner when he needed me most. I know I can say sorry over and over, but it'll never change a thing. I just hope you know it.

Some people may never understand the bond I have with my cats, the friendship and love we share... It's not something many people are privileged to have. But believe me, the pain is deep, and you never stop forgetting. But then, you remember the good times, and how they're always there for you, and you smile a little...Eventhough you know you'll never have them back. That's just how much they touch your life.

And I, will never stop remembering you, my Kap. Your unconditional love and loyalty you showed me taught me how to love even better, and most of all, to appreciate the things I have...before they're gone. I love you, Kap.

~Lin

For many years of my life, especially during those crucial formative years, many took pleasure in putting me down.

I had a (religious) teacher who loved insinuating that I was a lost cause and had that expression that she would have spat on me when she found out I was the best student in class that year. She protested such a scandalous thing, the fact I scored better than the rest. She looked at me with such hatred, shaking her head in disbelief. I was 7 years old.

Another teacher loved picking on me when I made the slightest bit of mistake. While her favourite students (she favoured the popular, beautiful ones; especially the boys) would get a pat on the back and she'd say "Takpe, takpe. Cikgu paham...", I would get a violent pinching while she looked me in the eye, hoping I'd cry. I never gave in.

I got my hair pulled when a religious teacher saw me without my head scarf. It would have been called harassment, too bad it wouldn't be regarded so, here.

There were guys I knew who thought it their civic duty to come up to inform me "Kau ni buruk kan?" (You're ugly, aren't you?) or "Muke kau ni pelik" (you have a weird face). And even worse, when it accidentally leaked out that I had a crush on some guy (who thought it a disgrace to have me liking him), the guy had his friends tell me that I wasn't good enough, that I was not up to his standards.

"Apesal kau gemuk sangat?"
"Pelik lah kau ni"
"Bodoh"
"Kau ni hitam lah. Buruk"
"What makes you think you're important? That you even matter?"
"Kau ni mesti tak tau agama, kan?"
"Ade orang ke nak suke kat ngkau ni?"
"Kau cakap klakar lah"

I think I've heard enough for one lifetime.

Thankfully, some part of my mind, even at a young age, never computed such words to be true. I had a family who constantly reminded me of my strengths, and I believe I had them. I knew I was better, and I knew that such people, in their pathetic need to feel better about themselves, needed to feel that power of insulting others to feel a false sense of strength. I knew that.

But then...when such hateful words are drilled hard into your mind from young over and over, it would get under your skin. It would undermine some part of your confidence and make you question the foundations you lay your strength on.

The thing is, while I know that I am better than others that they think, I get shaken sometimes. No matter how strong I believe I am, when you hear it one too many times, you start wondering: "If so many people say it, maybe it's true?" And it rattles me. Makes me wonder if anything I've done ever was worth anything at all.

What I'm trying to say is that, I don't need this. I don't need this crap. It's not funny, and I do not enjoy having my not-idealistic features be pointed out.

Like today, it hurts to hear you make fun of me. I know what I'm not. I do not have the perfect body, perfect skin... I know it. I see it in the mirror everyday. But I've learned to live with it and appreciate what I have. Why can't you? I'm the one that has to live with it, why is it bothering you so? Am I so embarassing to you?

I hate this, I hate having to hear insults hurled at me, bringing back memories of dark times. I hate having to relive those words that break down yet again these pillars I've built. I hate that people are so shallow that how you look determines everything that you are. How the way you look is all they will see first, and the rest comes later.

I don't effing need this. I'm not beautiful, I effing know that. I don't need you advertising it. I don't need you laughing and making jokes about it. I don't reed to be effing reminded. I've enough psychological Post-it Notes all over my brain to remind me of my ugliness til the day I die. So can you just stop?

My self-esteem is already constantly on edge, wondering which way to jump. A see-saw of emotions unsure on which way to stay. One day I can be strong, on another I'd be questioning whether I'm good enough. I don't need this.

So, please. I've battled my demons, and I have my scars. They're not pretty as they are, so there's no need to be scratching on them to open up old wounds and sprinkle salt all over. I don't need to feel them again, and have added insult to injury.

And anyway, since we're on this topic of my self esteem; I'd just like to say, to whoever it may concern, what I wrote before holds true. I do not need people to question me and my work. I've had my worthiness questioned and broken down too many times to have a person who should know me better question me. It was uncalled for, the way you questioned my ability to finish my work; especially when you had to even wonder whether I would jeopardize other people. For someone who *should* know me better, that question was not needed. The fact that you did not believe I was capable, points to you not knowing me a single bit.

Alright, I think I went on more than I thought I would... But then, I was just feeling pissed. Sorry for the long rant, but I just needed to get stuff off my chest.

Oh, I'd just like to add that I am thankful for the people that I have in my life who love me as I am, warts and all. My family, my friends, my Sayang... I'm lucky to have you all to make up for the stupidity in this world.

Love, Lin~

Fidzy's entry with an excerpt from Hanson's 'Wish that I was There' took me back to 9 years before.

But first of all, my God, it's been that long ago...? Wow.

Nine years before. I was 13 going on 14. In Form Two; 2 Yakin, to be exact. President of the Photography Club. Just began working for my school's Koperasi. I was my class' Treasurer. Slightly awkward, but finally settling into my skin. Had shoulder length hair. I've yet to start plucking my eyebrows, but loved make-up. Had an obsession with 5ive. Wrote poetry very often. The worst problem I had at the time was a jerk of a guy whom I had a crush on who treated me like crap (I wonder now why in the world I was attracted to him?). And for some reason was called for counselling ocassionally. That was me at 13++.

I remember Kemahiran Hidup (Home Economics) class. It was taught by Puan Mariah, methinks, and she was just scary. I hated going to the bengkel (workshop) for her class where she will just nag nonstop. But then there was one time when our class (just us girls) were sitting in front of the classroom door but the teacher didn't show up. It was still early in the school year and I haven't really gotten to know alot of people. So I struck up a conversation with the girl sitting on the floor opposite of me. I just knew her as the artsy person in class who listened to Elvis and the Beatles, but never really talked to her. Her name was Fairuz.

Or Ayus, as I would later call her.

I don't remember what was the content of our conversation that day, but the next thing I know was that we were both raving about Hanson. Honestly, I never met a person who likes Hanson so it was rather a surprise (my interest in them have waned, but I still genuinely think they're good). We started singing all the songs (most people would only know Mmmbop or the other singles) and were really having fun, finding some kinda kindred spirit in each other. And that's what sealed it.

That conversation led to phone calls to exchanging of posters and borrowing of magazines to singing sessions to sleepovers to camping to hanging out to YEAH to the talent competition to the Radio DJ competition to talking about boyfriends and then SPM, and then graduating from school to slacking off playing You Don't Know Jack on the PS all day to talking about campus life to hours long conversations late into the night about anything and everything to graduation and work to being in a magazine and on TV together to dissecting life and the way it works and bitching about the idea of marriage people keep throwing at us to talking about cats to mourning and indulging on pizza and chocolate and ice cream to talking about the good old days...And there are the smiles and the jokes and the crying and the fights and the miscommunication and the arguments and misunderstanding and the making up and all. We've been through so much.

But I remember most from our history is our singing sessions. We would gather at my place and we'd sing and try to harmonize with one another. It was always either Hanson or Robbie Williams and ocassionally Edwin McCain or Michelle Branch. Our staple songs were Hanson's Weird, Song to Sing, Wish that I was There, If Only, With You in Your Dreams, Save Me and many more... Ayus loves Wish that I was There cos Zac sang it, and we sang that song alot. I loved harmonizing this part, and I still sing it every now and then:

And you make me feel,
Won't you take me when you're not here.
It's been raining here,
and I just want you to be near.

I think I recorded most of them on some tapes, I'll have to look for them and give them a listen and then laugh. I don't know whether I still remember the lyrics to most of the songs... I think if I were to sing it they'd come naturally. I miss those times. Such innocent and much simpler times.

And then there was that time we decided to put all our singing to the test. We, just for the heck of it, joined the Talent Competition our school had, and we entered the group singing category.
We sang 'Song to Sing'. My part was always:

And all that I've found in reason
Is reason just to not believe
And all that you are left (with) is treason
It's treason just to let it be.

I guess we weren't so bad, cos we got third place. We harmonized a capella and was pretty shaky for a while, but I think it was something anyway. Just a little something to tell my kids in the future :) Oh, and we continued to sing another two times...Save Me and With You In Your Dreams.

I missed that time when Hanson came to Malaysia, but Ayus went. I wasn't really sorry that I missed the show, just sorry that I missed sharing something that united us, and something she was so looking forward to and for me to go with her.

Hanson and Ayus; they'll always be inseparable. They'll always be synonymous. And the reason that I know her. They're a big part of my history. And that's a song that I sing.

Love, Ayin~