Of sniping and old ladies

1. Tales from my mother..

When I was only two weeks old, I was overfed and I had to be rushed to a hospital — and I would have died.

Much later in life as an infant, I had bronchitis because I slept next to some fan with full power.

Who was behind all this?

It was my paternal grandmother.

She died of I-don’t-know-what just a few months ago. I did not attend her funeral. She wasn’t nice. She was very racist, especially towards my mother. Y’see..I don’t have respect for those who don’t respect..

When I was five, that old lady asked me if I wanted any of her pearls/gems/whatnot. I said “Tak nak!” (I don’t want!) and she muttered “Bodoh!” (Stupid!). My mother saw the whole thing.

..and that old lady dared to question me regarding marriage, last year.

“What race do you want to marry (if you had to choose)?”

“Uh…Chinese…” (Honestly folks, it really was the most sensible answer I could give. Why not Malay? I do not want to make the same mistake as my mother’s)

She laughed as though there’s a joke written across my face.

I swear that I will have the last laugh, but now’s not the time.

I just felt like sharing this. I think I am desensitized, heh.

2. There’s always a “phase” when I have the need to listen to something danceable.

Eg: Datarock, Daft Punk, Justice, Jamiroquai and of course..Franz Ferdinand.

The thing is: I can’t dance to save my life and yet I like songs that make you want to dance.

The most I could do is tap my feet or bob my head to the beat. HAHA.

Oh yeah and good chord progressions are colourful and they taste good. I am not synaesthetic, though.

If you are a pianist/guitarist, compare these chords:

a) Bm  F#  G  Em  F#  G  A  Bm

b) C  G  Am  F  C  G  F  C

3

one Tales from my mother..

When I was only two weeks old, I was overfed and I had to be rushed to a hospital — and I would have died.
Much later in life, still as an infant, I had bronchitis because I slept next to some fan with full power.

So, who was behind all this?

It was my paternal grandmother.

She died of I-don’t-know-what just a few months ago. I did not attend her funeral. She wasn’t nice. She was very racist, especially towards my mother. Y’see..I don’t have respect for those who don’t respect..

When I was five, that old lady asked me if I wanted any of her pearls/gems/whatnot. I said, “Tak nak!” (I don’t want!) and she muttered, “Bodoh!” (Stupid!). My mother observed the whole thing.

..and that old lady dared to question me regarding marriage, last year.

“What race do you want to marry (if you had to choose)?”
“Uh…Chinese…” (Honestly folks, it really was the most sensible answer I could give. Why not Malay? I do not want to make the same mistake as my mother’s)

She laughed as though there’s a joke written across my face.

I swear that I will have the last laugh, but now’s not the time.

I just felt like sharing this. I think I am desensitized, heh.

two There’s always a time when I have the need to listen to something danceable.

Eg: Datarock, Daft Punk, Justice, Jamiroquai and of course..Franz Ferdinand.

The thing is: I can’t dance to save my life and yet I like songs that make you want to dance.
The most I could do is tap my feet or bob my head to the beat. HAHA.

Oh yeah and good chord progressions are colourful and they taste good. I am not synaesthetic, though.

If you are a pianist/guitarist, compare these chords:

a) Bm  F#  G  Em  F#  G  A  Bm
b) C  G  Am  F  C  G  F  C

My choice would be a) lorrr.

three A compilation of photos of my Biology teacher, Mr Phuah. Much thanks to Elena, who took the photos, made some captions while we reviewed ‘em and also named my camera Sniper. A not-so-fast one

He told us about his experience in Tasmania, Australia, when he was about eighteen/nineteen.
It went like this:
“When I studied there, I lived with this old lady. I rented one of her rooms and one part of the deal was that I had to feed her beloved cat every morning at 5 AM.

Once, I slept at 2 AM because I had to study for a test; Otherwise my degree will go down the drain. Waking up at 5 for the sake of warming the milk for the cat made things worse. Once I was done heating up the milk, I called for the cat and then it came. It went to the milk, looked at it, and went off without even touching the milk.

I was so furious that I grabbed the cat by its tail, dragged it out of the house, swung it over my head in circles (like a lasso HAHAHA) and flung that cat. It went flying over the fence and to the neighbour’s garden. It never came back for 4 days. My landlord asked me “Have you seen my cat?” and I said “No…”

On the fifth day, it came back. I ran towards it and hugged it tightly. I was thankful that it returned. I never got to tell the old lady the truth. In fact, I acted like a hero and told her, “Mrs ____, I looked all over for your cat! I search high and low and I found it!…Here’s your cat.”

She treated me to a dinner at a fancy restaurant.

And she’s not around anymore. I never got to tell her the truth.”

He still hates cats. He also told us that he loves dogs and owns a beagle. An instant “Aww” factor.