Habis sudah

Holiday is ending and it’s time to pack

I don’t feel sad lah. Holidays are nice and all but I must say, it’s time to get my butt back to India-land and work my ass off for the coming exams.

Because I only finished- well, let’s just say I didn’t manage to cover as much as I’d planned.

So what did I do during my 2-week absence of blogging?

1. I spend the first week studying shopping hard with Effa and Ctah.

2. On my 4th day, I bought my 6th pair of shoes and I had to promise Ctah I wouldn’t buy any anymore

3. I spend the second week re-reading my story books (I like re-reading my books and knowing the stories by heart. That’s why I must own, not borrow.)

4. True to my words, I didn’t wash a single dish. Nor did I have to fold anything. Bwahaha.

5. I’ve consumed 6 loaves of bread so far  

6. When people saw me, the first thing they exclaimed was: You’re chubby!.

Stress stimulates hormones and increases our appetite. How many times do I have to say this? I read it in Reader’s Digest ok. Sheesh.

7. Needless to say, my saving currently amounts to ZERO and am now officially BROKE.

Besides the amount of studying that needs catching up, the next thing that scares me is:

This messy-badly-in-need-to-be-cleaned house

I haven’t unpacked a single thing. Not even a book.

Anyone offers unpacking service?

Moving out

They couldn’t possibly ask us to move out now. But of course they could. And of course they have.

 

Of all the time in the world, they had to choose now. Amidst the 18 anatomy drawings and physiology assignment. Amidst all the shopping and packing we’ve to do before going back to Malaysia this Friday for our 2-week holiday.

 

There’s only one word suitable to describe the whole thing:  Fuck.

 

Had they given us the notice a week earlier, I wouldn’t complain. But to receive a message about it 3 hours ago? How are we supposed to pack everything in one night?

 

I have at least 10 bags, 11 pairs of shoes, 20 pants, 2 sets of comforter, 5 cushions, 4 pillows, and zillions of dresses and T-shirts. And my books. The whole shelf. Who’s going to pack all those? Me of course. And I happen to LOATHE packing.

 

I love my house and housemates. Of course I don’t want to move. Especially on such short notice *big sigh*

 

Our room macam tongkang pecah

 

 

What’s that Harry Potter spell to make your things pack by themselves again?

 

 

The living room. Is a mess.

 

 

 

Er, the kitchen’s an exception. Couldn’t remember when it’s actually tidy

 

 

 

 

 

 

I won’t be able to post anything for the next couple of days because I don’t think there’s internet at the new apartment. Have to resume packing now, urgh. Toodles until I’m already in Miri, Sarawak (yay!).

 

Sayonara Pratham

French Bread

If mothers are comparable, then I would compare my mother with French bread.

 

 

Crusty. And dry.

 

My mum and I don’t share the mushy mushy kind of relationship.

 

Whenever I throw tantrums and bang the door, she turns a deaf ear. The only thing that could catch her attention is if I happened to vandalise her furniture. I used to bang her teak chairs to the floor just to annoy her.

 

When we quarrel, she would ignore me just as I would ignore her. And when she’s sorry, she would never say it.

 

Unlike other people, I don’t write my mother’s cooking in the favourite food column. Because my mum doesn’t know how to cook

 

When I confide my problems in her, the most inspirational words she has ever said is probably, “You’ll get through it. Btw, you know the other day I bought…….,” and when I cry to her on the phone, she would ask, “Why are you crying?” and then change the topic.

 

 

Like I said, my mum is just like French bread. And just like French bread, she’s crusty and dry- on the outside but soft on the inside. When you take a bite, it melts in your mouth.

 

When one of my rabbits died and I was so sad that I vowed never to have another again, she ignored me. Yet the next day when she came back from work, she brought with her a box with a grey baby rabbit inside it.

 

When I asked her to send me to places during my pre-driving days, she would refuse directly. And just when I was about to sulk, she came to my room bringing the car key saying, “How come you’re not ready yet? I’m not gonna wait.”

 

When we quarreled and she refused to talk to me, though she never said sorry, she made amend by buying presents and pretended nothing happened.

 

She says another yet she does something else. That’s my mum for you. I didn’t think I ever understood her. But as the years passed, and as I spend lesser time with her, I seem to know her better.

 

When before I thought my mum was weak, with time I realised how amazingly strong she is.

 

I see her strength whenever our maid is not around. Not used to house chores, she works hard to run things as smoothly as she could. Seeing her trying to figure out how to use the rice cooker, or watching her sweeping the floor, I realised that my mum is far from weak. To be able to adjust and adapt for her family, my mum becomes a person worthy of my recognition.

 

I see her strength during our many shopping trips together. How she always insist on buying me the nice things instead of buying them for herself.

 

I see her strength whenever we quarrel and make her cry. Instead of slapping me and throwing me out of the house, she forgives me 2 minutes later.

 

I see her strength in the way she handles our family’s financial crisis, should it arise. During those times, I don’t remember having to cut on my spending because each time, she manages to pull it off.

 

I see her strength in her unconditional love for me, the kind of daughter that frankly, if I had one, I would be needing the patience from heaven to deal with. Or to make things even simpler, I would just kick her out of the house.

 

 

 

I realised that

even though my mum doesn’t pat me on the head and soothe me down,

even though she turns away when I cry,

even though sometimes she tends to say the harsh words,

and even though I still sulk and throw tantrums whenever she does those,

I know you love me mum. Just as I would always love you.

 

Thank you, not simply because you’re my mother, but because in your own ways, you’ve raised me to be who I am today and for putting up with all my ridiculous demands for the past 19 years (I’m still 19 ok!). I know it’s no easy feat.

 

Being my mum isn’t what makes you great. It’s because you’re an amazing person on your own

 

 

And oh, with lots of love, please baked me loaves of horlick bread and don’t forget to buy red bean pau ya! I want at least 4 ok.

 

Happy Mothers’ Day

Butt meets ground

I thought I was so great, I ended up falling flat on my butt twice. Literally.

 

 

 

Damn that road-turned-into-longkang!

 

Unlike other apartments which are situated near the main roads, the tenants of Pratham (like me) have to endure a 5-minute walk under the scorching sun before reaching the main road. That is if you used the ex-road mentioned above.

 

Used the other road, and your 5-minute journey became 8 minutes. When it’s 37 degrees out there, 3 minutes is precious.

 

I was on my way out as usual on Saturday morning, rushing more than I normally would (people say I always rush even when there’s nothing to rush for), because I was late for something2 class. It’s my own fault, since I woke up at 9.15 am when my class started at 10 am

 

I walked as fast as I could. When I reached this one part that requires normal human beings to climb slowly, I decided to jump up onto the pavement.

 

So I jumped.

 

Either my legs weren’t as long as I thought or I was weighed down by the books I carried or maybe it was both but the next thing I knew, I didn’t make it up to the pavement. Instead, I found myself sprawling on the ground.

 

Note to everyone: Please remember that this pavement is exactly next to the busy main road, opposite a supermarket where people are buying their groceries.

 

MALUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

 

But being the so muka tembok person I was, I got up, brushed the dirt of my jeans, looked at my watch (gasped because it’s already 10.15 am) and stopped an auto.

 

The damage: Black and blue elbows and knees, bleeding elbows and twisted ankle. 

 

Sakit siot.

 

 

Yesterday at 5.45 pm on my way to something2 class again, I discovered that the narrow pathway used to pass through the longkang didn’t exist anymore. In front of my eyes was

 

A giant longkang through and through.

 

Well, there was no other way. To hell was I going to take the longer route. I just had to jump over it.

 

Nisa bajet kaki panjang.

 

Just as I was positioning myself to jump, the cement under my feet started to crumble (sebijik macam dalam movie) and I managed to jump just in time.

 

I leaped through the air like a deer. Or so I thought.

And fell to the ground like a watermelon. Or so it seemed.

 

Whose bloody workmanship was that??? How could cement crumble???

 

This time though, there was a pile of soil to cushion my downfall. More importantly, no one was around >_<

 

The damage: scratches on my palms and twisted the same ankle as before. Just as it was healing nicely!!

 

 

Lompat lah lagi.