Radios

Dear jumjum...

Right before my flight back to HK from KL, my brother and I went to the bookstore for something to read on my 4 hour flight. My brother bought me All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, which I thoroughly enjoyed on my journey. It is set in the 1940s, on the verge of World War II, and follows the lives of a blind French girl and a German orphan boy. The boy finds and repairs an old radio, and enjoys listening to all sorts of programs with his sister, most significantly one teaching science to children. 

His interest in listening to the radio reminded me of one of my most expensive purchases in my childhood. When I was in primary school, I loved listening to the radio- not only because of the music, but because it made me feel like I was connected to the outside world. Sidetrack: this was when I was living in Kajang, not small town Kuching, so I don't understand why I felt like I wasn't part of the society, but so it was. However, I could only listen to the radio in the car, and so the choice of channels we listened to were subjected to mum's approval. This was also before I used the internet on the regular, so I didn't get music off the internet either. 

When I was 10, I was waiting for my mum (doing her hair? I forget) at a mall. I was handed one of those promotional leaflets for Watson's pharmacy. It was close to Christmas and one of the items they were promoting was a Snoopy portable radio. It was grey aluminium, palm-sized, with a Snoopy illustration in the corner, costing RM30 or RM40. (I scoured the internet to find a picture, to no avail). I deliberated for awhile, then informed one of my siblings before I shot off to Watson's. On the way there, I remember worrying if the radio came with earphones as I had none. I was stoked to have my own radio and it seemed too good to be true that I doubted if it would work... Evidently, worthless worrying begun at a young age for me. 

For whatever reason, I felt like my parents would disapprove of my purchase, so I hid it from my family members. I would listen to it when I couldn't sleep at night. It was a pain to find a strong radio signal but I loved it anyway. I don't remember if they ever found out about it, and I have no idea what happened to it..

*atm*

About Cats

Dear jumjum...

I used to hate cats. I loathed the way they stare at you, all high and mighty-ly, as if you are an inferior being. I loathed it when I eat out by the roadside and a stray cat walks under the table and brushes against my bare legs. I suffer with the lingering bushy feeling and thoughts of contamination until I can finally soap and wash my legs.

Right before I left for uni, my brother Zac begin to have an affiliation for cats. When I met my first and closest friend in uni, I referred to her as Siao Ngiao or 'Crazy Cat' to my family. This is a little hard to explain. Basically, after a week or two of getting to know her, Patricia and I passed her validation period and she started to show her true colours. From a shy, quiet little Korean girl, she morphed into a dynamic, unpredictable, explosive girl who couldn't care less about anyone's opinion of her. And she was crazy about cats. She would meow in the lift if she felt like it (which is very often). She would also claw at us in public. When I first started calling her Siao Ngiao, we were summer roommates she overheard my conversation and asked if it meant 'roommate'! 

Our first picture together (which she edited, of course)

Ms Cat couldn't care less that we were taking a group photo..

Thanks to the global cat epidemic, I started to pay attention to the flood of cat videos online, and tagged my crazed brother and friend in cat videos. I was unconscious to the gradual effect it had on me over the past 3 years until last December, when Zac dragged my dad and I to a cat cafe in Bangkok. Now, you have to understand that although I was quite unenthusiastic about going, I never refuse my baby brother anything. It was my first time patting cats and the eroded walls around my heart came crashing down. I liked the big cats down to the little kitties. I found their cold behaviour and fierce attitude in getting what they want quite endearing.

        

  



 Zac: "So many cats to pat but only two hands..."

In January, I met Soba and I fell in love. She belonged to the family that my sister and brother rented rooms from in KL. Soba is the prettiest, most adorable cat (with the FLUFFIEST tail) I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Soba is such a princess, she doesn't like to be stared at and the only way to lure her out was to turn our backs to her and ignore her. When she walks, she sort of hops at the same time, with her little butt in the air. She is super energetic. She lives to be adored by all: she identifies the person in the room who loves her least (Mum) and targets all her antics at her. When mum is alone in the kitchen with her, she meows for her attention. When I stayed with them, playing with her was our first priority every morning. Now that my siblings have moved out of that house, I doubt I will ever see Soba again, but the effect she had on me will be eternal!

♥

  

*atm*

Dream log

Dear jumjum...

Last night, I had a dream that is definitely one of my weirdest, and most vivid. Here's what I remember from it:

First, I was in my experimental lab, being scolded severely by my supervisor for screwing up. (The past experiments have not been running smoothly, and although all my past and present supervisors seem to have saintly patience, I am terrified of getting yelled at) I was trying to calm down, warning myself repeatedly that I simply cannot cry!

The next thing I know, we were running. And by we, I mean me and the children. It was like a scene out of any one of the Mysterious Benedict Society books, where they're usually running in a complex from other children, Mr Curtain's minions. Although it felt like they could do us serious harm, I knew that I would not really die, you know? Like in any kid's movie: when they're in danger, you feel the suspense; but really, you know they'll be OK. It was like that, except I was among them too.

We were running down stairwells and dragging the smallest kids along. At one point I was crouching behind a line of chairs trying to let the kids crouching in front of the chairs know that they shouldn't worry, we were behind them (what logic?!) And the bad kids came into the room and shot them. With some laser beam guns. I wasn't upset at all, it was more like, oh well, let's go look for other children then.

The next scene I remember is when the authorities had arrived. And we were still chilling out at the crime scene like it was Gerko on a Saturday. There were huge packs of minced meat in plastic seal bags, and my senior told me that I need to help identify the bodies. =O I wasn't even freaked out, just annoyed that I had work to do. Somehow, I magically knew whose meat each bag contained. One of them was a large rectangular pack with a rice + beans layer. I turned to my friends behind me and went, "Oh, do you guys know who had Mexican for lunch?" And THAT'S how we identified that body.

And do you know who had Mexican takeout for lunch in real life yesterday? 

ME.

*atm*

A Chain of Events

Dear jumjum...

For the 4th of July holidays, I decided to cave in my room and watch movies. While filling the kettle, I dropped my phone into the sink (stupid!)...right into the only thing in the sink: a bowl full of water. My phone was functional, but wouldn't charge. In fact, it started to anti-charge: the longer I plugged it in, the more the power drained from the battery. I tried to incubate it in rice (legend has it that this attracts the Asians, who will fix it for you), but to no avail.

I forgot how disabled I am without a phone. Without an alarm clock, I woke up with 15 minutes to get ready. Ironically, my desk clock decided that it was the perfect morning to go haywire. I thought I woke up with ample time to get ready and was so relieved, until I turned my laptop on and happened to glance at the time. Thanks a lot, clockie. I brought both my backpack and sling bag to work, in addition to my phone charger, three-pin-to-two-pin adapter, and powerbank (at this point, phoney was flat, and I knew I would have to charge it after repair). I ended up leaving work in a hurry, stuffing everything I needed from my backpack to my sling bag, since I planned to leave my heavy-ass laptop at work. 






I located the phone repair shop from the addresses I copied down (no mean feat, this girl is totally reliant on her GPS), and they took an hour to repair it. I then met with Mika's friends for an awesome Thai dinner, and then my first ever musical afterwards: Fiddler on the Roof! I was thoroughly entertained by the singing and Russian dancing. I was riding back on the subway in happy contentment until I realised....



...that I had left my key in my backpack, at the lab. !!!

Thank goodness my flatmate was still awake to let me in. She told me that I can call maintenance to open my room door for me, with a $30 fee. After spending money to repair my phone AND watch a play, I was hesitant. Luckily for me, my flatmate just had someone stay over recently, and she has yet to put away the electrically-powered self inflatable bed in the living room. So other than no jumjum to hug and sleeping in the same clothes, I wasn't really roughing it out at all.

I woke up in a pretty good mood, until I was waiting for the shuttle bus and felt something down my back. It was my necklace, broken and dangling off my shoulder...and the pendant was nowhere to be found. I was super panicky and upset, because Val and Zac got it for me for my 21st, and it meant a lot to me. Apparently Zac had a hand in choosing it, which is a rare and precious occurrence. I decided to miss the bus and tried in vain to retrace my steps and find it, until I called Mum and she forbade me to. I felt super sad because I usually take off my necklaces in my room and keep it in a specific spot, but since I was not in my room (indirectly due to my carelessness of dropping my phone, leading to me bringing the phone repair stuff, and not my keys), I decided to leave it on. I must have pulled on the chain in my sleep and weakened it. Gahhhhh. I did consider taking it off, but I was afraid that I would lose it, since I didn't have a proper place for it. Fat lot of difference that made! It was small and dainty and right up my alley. And... I think that it cost them a lot. :(

The only silver lining to this is how my family reacted to this, and how they comforted the spoilt cry baby of the family. In hindsight, I am very spoilt. Thanks again for the awesome present, siblings. We may have parted ways but I will always remember it and the love that came with it!

*atm*

I Will Follow You

dEaR jUmJuM...

"Stalking is a form of mental assault, in which the perpetrator repeatedly, unwantedly, and disruptively breaks into the life-world of the victim, with whom they have no relationship (or no longer have). Moreover, the separated acts that make up the intrusion cannot by themselves cause the mental abuse, but do taken together (cumulative effect)."

I tugged at my sleeve, peering at my wristwatch. Any minute now. Don't miss her. I kept my eyes fixed on the entrance. As if we have some telepathic connection, she walks in. No, scratch that. Nouvelle-Cordelia never walked. She sashays. She floats. Never walks.

"Jeanne! Come over here," Her friend calls from the other side of the room.

Jeanne? JEANNE? No, you idiot. Her name is Nouvelle-Cordelia! She's too pretty, too elegant for a normal name like Jeanne! Her long fingers flick her chestnut-brown wavy hair and she plasters on an award-winning smile before strutting over to her friends and seats herself at the head of the table. The Queen of Everything, always.

The first time I laid eyes on her was at the ice rink. She was practising for nationals, twirling and swirling all around the place. She had on the cutest red dress on with matching white boot-skates. The moment I saw her, I knew her name was Nouvelle-Cordelia. Her name just seemed to shine out from her. I just had to follow her. I couldn't help it. How can you not adore something so perfect?

I trailed her back to her big fancy house that day.

As I have been for the past few days. Just following, waiting, noting, admiring. I never got to hear her speak, always remembering to keep that safe distance.

But today is different. Today I have something to give her. The moment she rose, I followed. I have to tell her how much she dazzles me, I thought, trailing her across the little lanes and alleys. How much I think and fantasize about her. She will accept me, I know she will.

Wait, where the hell did she go? I'm sure she was just -

*Wham!* Luke swings the bat over his shoulder. "Whew! I guess you were right," Jeanne and her parade of friends stood peering uncertainly at the hooded figure on the pavement. "Err…well let's see who your admirer is, Jeanne," Luke got on his knees and unveiled the figure.

"Oh. My. Days," Luke whipped his head around.

"Jeanne, it's a girl."

*atm*

Bond That Chains Us

dEaR jUmJuM...

Claire was brought up in a typical Chinese society. She was the youngest of five children- four girls and one boy. Her simple, carefree life came to a screeching halt when her mother passed away.

She was two years old. Too young to be stripped of a parent. Too young to understand the impact of the great change in her small little young life.

Her father was a burly man with hunching posture and thick, rough hands- a result from his job as a laborer. Mr Teh was a stiff and reclusive man who barely uttered a word, instead he mumbled and grunted in response to any friendly conversation.

Without a mother to run to, young Claire soon became the target of her siblings’ bully as she was the youngest and “dummest”.

“Look Claire! There’s a lizard on your bed!”

“Hahaha…Claire’s so ben. She doesn’t even know where the South China Sea is,”

“You better watch out, Claire, the boogey monsters are waiting for you in the toilet!”

Her siblings could not have known better as they didn’t have a strong disciplining hand nor did they have anyone to correct their ways. Mr Teh was always busy working to put food on the table. Even when he was home, he sat at the table reading the newspapers as if he did not have a care in the world. To Claire, a father is just a man who feeds you, clothes you, and puts a roof over your head. He frowns when you sing him a song. He merely grunts and bathes your wound when you are wailing your heart out after a fall. He doesn’t come to your rescue when you are bullied.

Three years later, Claire attended her first day of school. Her father dropped her off at the school gate, grunted, and cycled away. As she walked into the school compound, Claire noticed the kindergarteners all around her. Some were walking with their hands clasped firmly in their parents’ hands, some who were crying were being reassured by their parents, some were enthusiastically waving their parents goodbye. She felt even more awkward during recess when everyone’s parents came with packs and packs of food. She stared miserably down at her plain biscuits.

“Why didn’t you come into school with me today?”

Grunt.

“Why? Why didn’t you come during recess?”

Grunt. “I had to work.”

“Why don’t I have a mummy then?”

Grunt. Shuffle.

“Why don’t I have one?”

Shuffle.

“Why did she have to leave me? Tell me, tell me!”

“I don’t know!” Her father finally bellowed at her, slamming his fist on the table.

Claire was very shaken. Her father had never yelled at her before. She ran to her room, tears streaming endlessly down her red cheeks.

That was about twenty years ago. She had since studied her way to a scholarship, graduated, and now works at an established hospital in her hometown. She met a great guy who was willing to commit and they got married a few years later. All this while, Claire has faithfully been in contact with her father and siblings (who eventually grew up and made their peace with Claire), but she only stayed in contact with her father because he is, after all, her dad. But deep down inside, she still harbored a feeling of resentment towards him for being so cold.

“Frank, really. I don’t see the point in doing this. It’s just gonna end up all awkward,” Claire says to her husband.

“Darling, we’ve been through this. He’s your dad; come on,” replies Frank for the millionth time.

That day, Mr Teh was coming to visit his daughter, son-in-law and Hayley, their new-born baby girl. From the moment Hayley was born, Claire promised herself she would love her baby with all her heart, and she would show it and tell it to her, everyday. She reminded herself of her childhood and promised never to let Hayley go through anything like it.

Frank started chatting cheerfully away with Mr Teh (even though most of the response he got were grunts), while Claire went to bring her baby out. Claire watched her father’s thick, rough hands as they cradled the baby. At that moment, for the first time in her life, Claire saw her big, burly father cry.

“I’m…I’m s..sorry. She looks so much l..like you. A..and y..y..your m..mm..mum,”

Claire stood rooted to the ground, shocked, while her father took some time to wipe his tears. Finally, he lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye.

“Claire, I’ve been a bad father. I provided for you materially but I was never there for you emotionally…you, and your siblings too. The truth is I couldn’t cope with your mother’s death. You look so much like her…I just couldn’t bear to look at you without aching inside. Your mother was always so good with children, with everyone. I just am not. But I should have tried, I should have tried…Daddy loves you, Claire..”

Mr Teh felt his daughter’s arms around him for the first time in a long time, and felt her warm tears drenching his shirt. And that day, everything was forgiven.

Today, Mr Teh is going to see his daughter again.

He is, after all, her dad.

*atm*