3 random facts….

Hi all!

I’ve been passed this baton by Jayaxe. Once again, it’s another one of those meaningful tags, so thanks! New fodder for the blog!.:)


1st story:



I stole for excitement.



Unlike Jaywalk, who stole a figurine during kindergarten and eventually felt guilty enough to return it back, I never returned what I stole. Mostly because, they couldn’t be returned anyway and also because, I never felt guilty about it at all.


When I was in primary 4, T-shirts with jewels, sequins and beads were all the rage. Aunties were wearing them to the market, those really stretchable materials that seem to hold about a ton of shiny fake diamonds on them. So when my family was out shopping, I would hang around feeling bored at my mother’s feet until she also got pissed with me and send me to sit under the mannequin. Then I’ll systematically strip the closest rack of jeweled clothing of its sparkly plastics and hoard them in my pocket, pretending they were real diamonds.



The minute i started, shopping is no longer boring. I’d surreptitiously hide myself between racks of clothing and start prying the gems off their arms. I would keep a lookout for any suspicious…ahem….sales aunties who are more sharp-eyed than the usual glazed ones, then look innocent or walk back to my mum, pocket full of stolen rocks. One time, I found a security camera that revolved itself around a particular section full of sequined costumes….so I just picked the sequins, gems and beads off each clothing while following behind the camera, so it never saw me.



One day, I’ll sure kena caught by police. thank goodness I soon became bored again...


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2nd story:

What kind of bird do you want to be?


Recounted by my dad as I dun really remember the incident although I remember my answer. He remembers word for word our conversation in Chinese, but I’ll translate to English as best as I can.


When I was younger, I used to stay in the current West Coast Court. I was from a neighboring school so every sat, my dad would walk me past the forested area to my school for choir practice. I loved these times with my dad because I seldom see him during weekdays since I was always slept very early. he’d hold my hand or let me skip in front. Because it was heavily forested, we sometimes stop to look at swallows, eagles and yellow ochres flying by. One day, my dad asks me, when we were both admiring a pair of swallows dancing in the sky.


‘If you can be any bird, what would you be?’


*think hard, screw face*


‘I want to be a sparrow, pa.’


‘A sparrow? Those are swallows you are looking at, honey.’


‘I know, pa, but I still want to be a sparrow.’


He took my hand and we continued walking, me, of cos, skipping beside him because he takes really long steps.


‘But why be a sparrow when u can be a soaring eagle? Or a pretty yellow ochre or even a swift swallow?’


‘Pa, you are so silly. Last week, you just took me to Jurong Birdpark!’


‘Eh? What did Jurong Birdpark have to do with anything?’


‘I saw all the beautiful birds there, pa, all caged up….. So many sparrows at our kopi tiam where I drink milo but I never see them in Birdpark.’


‘But that’s because sparrows are not special, they’re everywhere.’


‘Must be special to be free meh?’


Funnily enough, my answer is still be the same now, 19 yrs down the road.


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3rd story.

Being a Boy....


I would like to talk about my colonoscopy experience but thought that this event deserves a big (and painful) entry all on its own. So I’ll talk about my childhood again.


Did I mention I look like a boy when I was in primary school? The thing is, no one ever believed much about it. But just because I grew my hair long, pluck my eyebrows, wore contacts and have breasts now, it didn’t mean I don’t look like the opposite sex when I was still prepubescent. Added to everything, I was an utter tomboy. Boys cower before me.


Although I never fought in my life, no boys ever wanted to have to deal with me. I think it might be due to that fierce angsty scowl I always had on my face, probably due to my hatred for my mum, who refused to let me grow my hair like a girl.


I think deep down inside, she thought making me look ugly might make me study better and have less problems with guys in general.


She was right; I never had guy problems all through secondary and did well in my studies. I am also, and I know it, extremely inferior about my physical self. She played a great part in it, always telling the barber to snip my hair all off to the ears and getting me plastic specs that made me look like a complete dork, but because I loved her, I obeyed her.


Which goes to show that parents are not always right. Chuikueh, you are reading this for the first time, so know and appreciate the fact that ah ma has become extremely lax and mellow with age when it came to you.


During these tumultuous times, I had this so-called best friend, N. We were always together, although I much preferred the boys’ more raucous company trying to catch butterflies during recess, then to spend it playing zero-point in the backyard with her. But then during those times, that’s what best friends do right? Stick together.



It came to a point in primary 6 when she started to go horribly wrong on me. She started calling me ‘hubby’ and refused to let any girls near me. She’d grab my hand and lead me away when my classmates wanted to join us for lunch. Since I didn’t have many female frens, this didn’t occur often, hence I didn’t really care. Furthermore, I was trying to get into the League of super-chee-goo-pah players during recess, so I was more or less always queuing up with the guys to go 1-to-1 combat with the chee-go-pah king.


I didn’t see it coming. One day, we went to the restrooms together (Oh yah, due to a voyeur incident, girls are cautioned to go to the loo in pairs).




She suddenly pushed me into a cubicle and er…..hugged me….


.................

…….ok….........I think I better let up on the details because I’m writing this 14 years down the road and still, I’m chickening out at the last moment….*Goosebumps*




Suffice to say, I was the bigger of the two. I pushed her away and I may have slapped her or punched her, but I forgot.



However, I remembered that I never spoke to her again.



3 random facts dredged out deep from my soul….what do you think?

Out!

AKK