My first venture into
online shopping was rewarded with this:
Isn't it pretty? :) I do love my bling so.
The month has been punctuated with moments of elation, frustration, lethargy and emanicipation. It all started with a smile. With dimples, no less.
8 years. I guess the gap is wider beyond my wildest imagination. On Monday, I asked a student of mine about her crush on a
certain young male relief teacher, "He's twenty-one! And what are you, fourteen? Thirteen - not even fourteen!?" The girl just looked at me with a very solemn expression, and said, "Cher. Age is not an issue." Part of me wanted to laugh but for the other part of me was caught with her foot in her mouth, so I just smiled and nodded.
Never loud and obnoxious, always shy...always so intriguing. It's funny how we sometimes shun the flamboyant and conspicuous things, and find ourselves inexplicably drawn to the subtle. I never said anything for the next couple of weeks, brushing it aside as something foolish and whimsical. It never went away, but nestled quietly somewhere deep and hidden. And probably grew.
Lookist? Hah, I never said I wasn't superficial...but there was a little something else that was special. Because of that first smile... I find myself wondering whether things would have turned out differently if I wasn't truthful about a certain double-digit thing. 8 years - not much in terms of age, but a massive disparity in priorities and lifestyle.
The inevitable sadness came today. The friendly banter, the concern, the "you're still young" chiding...nothing but fond memories now. Have you ever felt like crying over something, yet you hold back 'cos you feel so bloody ridiculous and absurd?
I don't know why it feels like such a big loss to me. 'Loss' in the broadest sense of the word, of course. You can't lose what you never had - such an apt cliche.
All I know is that I will miss everything.
And to think it all started with a smile.
Labels: Frivolity
I miss Yoggi. She's my honeybunchsugarplumpumki-umki-umkin, she's my sweetie pieeeee. Being random, as usual. Whoohoohoo.
"MondayTook her for a drink on TuesdayWe were making love by WednesdayAnd on Thursday and Friday and Saturday We chilled on SundayI met this girl on MondayTook her for a drink on TuesdayWe were making love by WednesdayAnd on Thursday and Friday and Saturday We chilled on Sunday......"I don't know about other people, but I've always had a problem starting off blog entries. Most of my entries begin pretty much the same way, i.e. (a) I apologise for the sporadic posting, (b) I say stuff like, "It's Monday morning...blah blah blah..." To the point, but highly unoriginal. Anyway, Craig David's "Seven Days" popped into my head just as I was trying to think of a good starting sentence. Pretty intense week for this guy eh. ;) So the weekend flew by in a blink, Monday swooped down most unpleasantly, Tuesday crept in deviously behind her (In my opinion, Monday is mean cranky bitch, and Tuesday is just her equally ugly fraternal twin: not the same, but they pack the same amount of BS.) and Wednesday strolled in casually. All this basically sums up the nature of events that occurred the past few days. I was hoping that Thursday would be a little gentler on me, but noooooooo. Thursday leapt in socked me in the face with 2A2 and 2A3 back-to-back. My voice is going hoarse from yelling at irritating Monkey Boys and I seriously hope Jessica comes back soon 'cos they students are probably sick and tired of seeing me. Seriously, I always feel really bad for the nicer kids in classes labelled as "notorious" because they don't deserve to get yelled at and be detained by the Discipline people after school. They're the ones who go, "cher, don't be angry k...you shout so loud until my ears want to burst..." Unfortunately the best response I can muster is merely an sincere apology, which isn't quite enough.On lighter note, the cookies I baked for my colleagues on Sunday afternoon have been devoured right down to the very last crumb and the feedback has been relatively positive, apart from Chin Leng's very obscure-sounding, "It's a good attempt." It was my first time baking chewy chocolate cookies, and I guess that sort of texture requires you to be very careful when setting the temperature of the oven. My oven is a primitive contraption, the primitive sort that aunties use to bake pineapple tarts and kueh bangkit during Chinese New Year and the temperature control is super tricky. For starters, I cannot set the temperature. Instead, I have to wait until the temperate rises to 350F and then hurriedly shove in the tray full of cookie dough lumps. This has to be done with precision and accuracy, if one does not wish to end up with a tray of black coals - which happened to my first batch. Chao tar like crazy. Bloody thing drives me up the wall everytime I bake, but Mum refuses to get a new one; her reason is that we don't have anymore space at home to keep another oven. Sighh. I've been avidly reading Ms Cherrin Ng's (TJC GP tutor) "pregnancy blog". Her kids are sososososososososooooooooo adorable! There's just something about babies which gives them the ability to bring out our innermost softies. Take my niece, Chloe, for instance.
Are you ready for this?
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Yes, yes. I know. Like all other babies, Chloes does little things - like sticking out her tongue, "singing" incoherently in cute monotone babbles and staring at her fist until she gets crossed-eyed for a few seconds before jamming the whole thing into her mouth - which sometimes reach practically offensive levels of cuteness. Recently, Mum mentioned that she's taken to rolling herself up into a ball and sucking on her own feet, while babbling to herself. My goodness, a multi-tasking baby! The thought of that is enough to send me into cute-induced spasms, numbing my senses into ignoring the unhygienic aspect of her actions. Ahhhhh.
Speaking of cute kids, Tuan and I were walking to the bus stop yesterday when we saw this little sec 1 boy a few metres ahead of us.
Me: Oh my god, he's like, WADDLING! Damn cute can!!
Tuan: Yeah. Like, "Out of my way, I'm cute." Hahahahahaha
Okay, okay I know it's kinda mean. We really mean it in the most adoring and least vindictive way possible.
I was walking past Mothercare at Tampines Mall in the afternoon when I saw the most gorgeous green and white babydoll halter dress. For the uninitiated, Mothercare caters to the needs of pregnant women and babies, selling everything pregnancy-related ranging from kids' clothing ("In this season's colours! And of course, pink." <--- doesn't the tagline sound precious? (-: ) to anti-stretchmark cream. The maternity wear on display didn't even look like it was for pregnant women! I spent a few seconds lingering outside the display window, just admiring it. Then I sms-ed the soulfriend in a fit of randomness.
Me: Random thought. Cos I just walked past Mothercare. Next time, if I ever ever ever get pregnant, I want to be a yummy mummy.
Tuan: haha your triple ever makes your motherhood all the more promising. well i hope yummy mummy means something like good nursing. and not about voracious appetite.
.........
........ERM.
WHAT?!?!
I was queuing up at the casher of Popular when I received his reply, and when I saw "good nursing" I was like "WTF?!" and actually snorted aloud. Very unglam, but what the hell.
Me: Erm. Actually I was thinking more along the lines of NICE PREGNANCY APPAREL...?
-.-"
Arghhhh I need to go back to my marking. Rawrrrrrrrrrr! Can you say "THREE STACKS OF SEC 4 COMPREHENSION EXERCISES" ???
Dry eyes caused by contact lenses worn for too long, PMS, irritating buggers from work and accumulated piles of (half-assed) work done by said buggers, have compelled me to start this entry with a loud, resounding
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!It's a Monday today, which really doesn't improve things. Of course, out of the four things I mentioned in the previous paragraph, two are due to my own procrastination (as always) and I attribute the PMS to biology - yes, PMS is scientific. You wanna argue with a hormonal neurotic female? Huh? HUH???
Just kidding. I was highly irritable and sensitive all day, and it was until my second last period of the day, when the revelation of PMS being the cause of the moodiness hit me.
We had 13 teachers absent today, just short of 2 to beat the latest record of 14. Mdm H., the teacher in charge of delegating the relief duties, was up to her spectacles in timetables and Post-it notes. Tuan came to help the Humanities Department today, and I had to give him a morning call at 5.30a.m. so we could be at the school by 7.05a.m.. Anyway, today's timetable was horrendous with a capital 'H'. First two periods were with 2A3, the most notorious sec 2 class, and because the relief-allocation thing took so long, I was already 15 minutes late. Needless to say, chaos greeted me - no, chaos LEAPT at me the moment I stood at the door. My highly sensitive RT-radar immediately detected that The Monkeyboy Fortress of the class was extremely strong i.e. there was practically a fucking anti-homework, anti-teacher intervention FORCE FIELD. Hence, at 8.30a.m., a time when most mortals would probably be only half-awake and their ears highly sensitive to anything above approximately 30 Hz, I used my Shouting Voice. I don't like to shout at students, and I'm sure everyone has bitched about a neurotic, curmudgeon of a teacher at some point of their lives, so in addition to making the students displeased (and hopefully, intimidated...hurhurhur.) I also made myself annoyed. The scratchy feeling of a strained throat is not good way to start a day.
Three periods of break followed, before I had to face the most devilish sec one class, 1T1. Barely 5 minutes into the lesson, I used the Shouting Voice twice and got groped by this chubby snot-faced creep FOUR TIMES. Yes, I was molested and I didn't realise it until the third time. I was talking to a particular group of girls when the Monkey Boy Patrol of that class surrounded them and proceeded to pelt them with paper balls. Then I felt someone tap my arm - technically not a tap because it was a sliding of about one inch before a slight squeeze. Now, before you think I'm paranoid and it's just the PMS hormones on a roll, think about the last time you actually physically touched anyone of your teachers.
Exactly. Since we were wee little tots, we've heard our parents tell us, "Don't talk to strangers." The lengthier version of this nugget of wisdom would be: "Don't talk to strangers, don't get too physically close to strangers, don't go anywhere a stranger wants to take you and for heaven's sake, don't let a stranger touch you." Okay maybe not exactly that per se, but it's something we all (should) know right? Your teacher, no matter how friendly, is still a stranger in many, many ways. By touching him or her, you are treading into the dangerous territory of "OVERLY-FAMILIAR", which is not good.
The first time it happened I was kinda startled and turned around to face the chubby terror. He said that he wanted to use the toilet, so I took the "tap" as an attempt to catch my attention in the midst of all the paper-throwing and shrieking. The second time it happened, I actually brushed his hand away and frowned at him. "Nabil, can't you see that I'm talking to your classmates? Can you sit down first?" I started to scold the culprits and my back was turned towards him. The third time he touched me, I DISTINCTIVELY felt his hand slide an additional half-inch down my arm and I whipped around and exclaimed, "Stop touching me!" AND THEN, he TOUCHED ME AGAIN, barely after those 3 words left my mouth. What. The. Fuck.
I wish I had a camera at that very moment to capture the perverted smirk on his face, for further proof when I report him to the Discipline Master.
One of the girls pulled me aside and told me that Nabil is a molester who likes to touch girls on their hands, shoulders. faces and buttocks. The thing is, NOBODY has dared to report him. Outrageous or what? -In WWF style- HE'S GOING DOWNNNN!!!
The primitive antics of 1T1 never cease to exasperate even the most experienced teachers in the school. They're not like your regular "you call me bastard? Teacherrrrr! XXX used a bad word!!" -cue little boys trying to wrestle- or the harmless but freaking irritating group of boys clustered around an mp3 player attached to speakers, drumming in unision. Think Tom and Jerry, like when Tom grabs a vase (or any other heavy injury-inducing object) and attempts to whack the living daylights out of Jerry, who jumps around in a comical panic-induced state. Think Vikings, Neandarthals or hairy cavemen clubbing one another on the heads with heavy clubs. Their fights and their pranks ALL have enormous damage/ injury potential, such as walking behind rhe seats of unsuspecting classmates and tipping them out of the chairs, causing them to fall painfully on their asses. I don't think I need to list out the dangers of that one.
1E5 was my last class, and they're also hell of a noisy lot but I didn't have the strength to yell or walk around anymore. I was dizzy because of all the blood rushing to my head from the horrors of the previous classes. I could literally feel the blood pressure rising and the blood boiling under my skin! The adrenaline ebb gradually drained me of so much energy, and this coupled with the fact that I was having my period, caused me to sit down before giving the instructions: "Sit down, do your own work." I'm usually very particular about students spending their time doing productive, academically-related stuff when I step in to "babysit". Therefore, I walk around the class, breathing down the necks of students who don't have anything work-related on their desks. However, the nagging guilty feeling that I was being a tad too irresponsible was overcome by dizziness and in that state, I actually said something like, "If you all want to use mp3 player of handphone, please be discreet." Tsk tsk tsk. So irresponsible, I know.
Okay, I'm seriously very tired.
