Grow much?

Dear Teacher,

"You're too good for the business world," you said.

Those words stung. I didn't know what to make out of it. I could have fought it I guess. But I knew that I had little evidence for my case. I was a nice person, no doubt. I could have accepted it and replied with an 'mmm', the way I do when I wasn't prepared with a reply. But I was far too competitive to let you go that easy.

"I guess I could grow up," I managed.

Here you were shooting down possibilities of getting invovled in the corporate world because I was 'too good'. And my reply was I could grow up. And why were you shooting down my dreams anyway? You're a teacher. Aren't you supposed to be positive, encouraging, inspiring...just not realistic?



But that's besides the point. I didn't even realise why I said what I said until I did. After some thinking, I guess unconsciously I believe that growing up involved a deterioration of character, of goodness and kindness and warmth. And why shouldn't I?

There are certain things that adults can do that kids can't. Think of 'adult movies, adult books, adult drinks and adult-eries'. It seems like growing up, becoming an adult just enables me to corrupt myself, legally. 

I don't know if that's such a great thing-growing up. I remember when I was young and all lies were wrong, coffee was disgusting, and dirty jokes were told, but in embarrassment. 

Now, I can't get through a day without coffee. Lies and dirty jokes are essential in human interaction.

Maybe now I'm not 'too good for the business world'. Maybe now, I'm just about right for it.

is going to make herself some coffee,
Twisty

Ready much?

Dear Teacher,

You had this way about you. You made me want to be a better version of me (which is rare). You were my coach even when I thought I didn't need one. Do you remember that one time when we were training for netball? I was such a cocky player. Never did the full training required of me. I was a shooter anyway, and the best around. So I thought.

But when you were around, all I wanted to do was impress you, catch your attention. That day, I may not have impressed you, but I certainly caught your attention. I saw you brought your camera. Pictures for the school magazine you said.

The girl in me took-over. Chest out, tummy in. Chest out, tummy in. Chest out, tummy in. It was hard to flaunt your assets in a sports bra and I was almost tipping over trying when click. 

The next thing I know, I'm waking up. Apparently while concentrating on my pose, the GA threw me a ball and it smacked me right in the face. So much for poise. 



But all was not lost. There you were. You kind eyes staring straight at me although I could tell you were stiffling your laughter. "Always be ready," you said tossing me the ball. I caught it this time.

-

Coach, I've definitely learnt my lesson. This time I'm ready. Ready for my exam on Monday. I've listened to the lectures, done the exercises, slept with my textbooks and sent 'I'm thinking of you cards' to all my lecturers. I even washed and dried my lucky underwear (the army prints one) all ready for Monday.

Oh, and you know how tribes do that whole face painting thing when they get ready for battle? I waxed my eyebrows.

I'm definitely ready.


can still fit into her sports bra,
Twisty

Sleep much.

Dear Teach,

Remember when we did that class on dreams? We reviewed Walt Disney and his inventive ideas and I was so fascinated with his whole story. It was as if his imagination knew no bounds, none at all. 

Well, yesterday I slept. And I did dream. I dreamt that my parents sold me off to marry a really random friend for RM10. I woke up with the shivers. Both from the dream and from the weather. How scary is the thought of getting married?

It didn't help that it's a cold windy day in Melbourne today. Chilly. But perfect for the pot of miso soup I made. I even added some yee mee, leaving some of the noodles less cook just cause I like them crunchy. Like mamee.



The point that I want to make is that I slept. For 9 hours last night.

And dolphins have been replaced by goats as my new favourite animal. I am not unloyal, merely being practical. 

has only one eye-bag now,
Twisty

Sleep much?

Dear Teacher,

I haven't been able to sleep recently. It is the most frustrating thing. I even tried moving to the floor one night just hoping the change of bedding will help. Someone suggested sleeping pills. I'm just really sceptical about modern medicine. Never swallowed a panadol in my life. Even with vitamins, I don't really believe in them but Mum does so I have little say in the matter.

I try everything else- a glass of warm milk, sleepy-time tea, sheep counting, verses, music, exercise but still no sleep. None at all. A good night will give me 5 hours max these days. 




The worse part is, it does affect me during the day. I am the grinch that hates every day and every one whether or not they have anything to do with Christmas. I am even growing his angry eyebrows from constant frowning. 

But I never give up hope. "Madness is doing the same thing and expecting different results," I hear your voice in my head.

That is exactly what I will do. I will try something different this time. I have the most briliant idea already.

Instead of counting sheep,... tonight, I will count lambs.

Sleep-deprived,
Twisty

Want much?

Dear Teacher,

I remember twisting my blue ball pont pen between my fingers as you railed on in your lesson. I was not listening. As usual, I was there, but I wasn't.

Till you slammed your hands on my desk. My pen dropped from between my fingers and rolled off the desk. I did not, could not breathe.

You looked me straight in the eye. "What do you think?" you asked, your gaze burning a hole in my face.

I felt hot and my mind raced. But it was useless. I stared at my mates around me. Great help they were. All eyes were on me. But none told me anything. What was the question anyway?



You seemed to have read my mind, but it was pretty obvious there was nothing much in there to read anyway. Just a big, white blank...oh and the alphabet backwards (I was stuck at 'r') but I figured that wouldn't help much.

You pointed at the blackboard and fortunately I switched back quick enough to the genius I usually was. I followed your pointing to the sentence on the board. It was a question-What do you want? There it was big and bold, staring me in the face, waiting for an answer.

"I, I,... I don't know," was all I managed. You can be sure I started to doubt the genius that I was convinced I was.

"Think about it," you said. "Your answer to that will act as a compass in your life."

You turned to walk back to the front. I was reaching for my pen when you turned around and glanced at me. "...And it's Q."

I must have given you the dumbest most genuine 'huh?' look in my life. By then, I was convinced genius never existed in me.

You continued, "The letter before R, or after R since you're doing it backwards, is not P. It's Q".

-

And here I am, years since that day. I've thought about that question long and hard. Yet all I can manage is still, quite frankly, "I don't know."


Was never a genious,
Twisty

Intelligence much?

Dear Teacher,

You once said that everyone has their own sets of intelligences right? I remember you even gave out the inventories for us to find ours out. I got 'self' as my main intelligence. 'Intrapersonal intelligence' to use the academic term. Somehow I believe my results were wrong.

That was supposed to mean that I was very aware of who I am. According to the book that meant that I have 'access to one's, well, my own feelings and the ability to discriminate among them and draw on them to guide behaviour; knowledge of one's own strengths, weaknesses, desires and intelligences'.

Access to one's feelings, no doubt I have free flowing access to that. In fact in this time of lack-lack of finances, lack of tact, lack of control, feelings are the one thing I have access to excessively.

Discriminating upon them is a major problem. I'm hot then I'm cold, I'm yes then I'm no, I'm in then I'm out, I'm up then I'm down. Credits to Kate Perry.  
 
And it has gotten me into some serious muddles. The other day, I was very feely. And being swallowed by my feelings I did this unbelievable thing.  I listened to Miley Cyrus' 'See you again' song on a loop while doing the freakiest dance to it. I tried this whole Melbourne shuffle thing during one of the prechoruses. You know where it goes 'the last time I freaked out, I started looking down'. Yeah, that part. I know I'm pathetic. But I felt like I was s sooper-star (double 'o' for emphasis). But when I reached st-st-st-stuttering, let's just say my dance reached a new level of st-st-st-stoopid (ditto). 

15 minutes straight I did this. And if that's not bad enough, I did it in my socks and my pikachu towel.

And when I finally woke up from the unconscious-I think I slammed my head onto the bar of the bed while trying those 'head-banging' movements, only then did I realize how odd my behaviour was. Only then. The bang probably smashed my brain back into its proper position. 

But you see teacher, Sir, I don't really know me at all. The me I know is more controlled. More civil. More less weird. 

Your dancing prancing queen,
Twisty

New Series

I'm experimenting. A new series of posts. Bear with me. And disclaimer: It's fiction.

Because I'm itching

I can't remember the last time I wrote in this blog. It has been too long.

This year, my writing has betrayed me. "What gift?" I ask myself time and time again disatisfied at the finished product. That is not to say that my lack of flair is the only reason for my absence from the blogosphere. (Is it blogsphere or blogosphere?)

Anyway, I have this sudden itch to write. So write I shall.

I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I have also been dreaming of home. Home-home in KL. I dreamt that I was driving up to my house and I reached for the remote to open the gate. Adrenaline rushed within me and for the first time ever, my tummy did a perfect somersault.


(This is my "mmmm, this is so yummy" smile. This goat just makes me laugh, and just slightly jealous until I realize that people actually eat goat's meat.)

I was all smiles, you know the wide smile I give when I just can't help it, yeah that one. It's not the same as the smile I make when I eat something really yummy. The former is wider and it makes you think of the words 'sunshine and moonbeams'. Anyway, as I pressed the blue button that from memory opens that cranky gate of ours, I woke up.

There was Jean typing at her laptop. She gave me this 'what?' look and turned her eyes back to the screen.

I forced myself out of bed, my eye mask still hanging from my neck. I sleep with an eye mask now because our room is excessively bright. It gets bright at 6 in the morning. Annoying much? (That's a very aussie phrase that I'm trying to inculcate in to my speech). Obviously it's working.

Tonight, I told myself that I will head off to bed early. Yeah right. It's 1 ish and I'm tinkering on my laptop.

My attempts to blog seem pitiyable. Please, you who have kidnapped my muse. I pray it's safe return. Till then this is all I can dish out.

Any assistance is appreciated. You may start by telling me what I should be writing about.