Sunday, December 19, 2004
Been And Gone
Been and Gone 
My tranquil Sunday morning in bed had been molested by a rather strange sound. Very low and near but I was sure that this military sound could only be a deafening one had I not had the double glazed window shut.
I scrambled to the shyness of daylight peeping through the slit of the two arms of the curtains. Phoaahhhh!! Never do that again. That was an instant blindness by self infliction. Remember never to do that again.
My mind was taken over by an object which looked like a dragonfly landing the green virginal openspace, like those in the movies. Only it didn't have a man waiting on that bit of the helipad, with a sleek pair of suits, sunglasses, stiff upperlip, armed with some gun on one hand and a damsel in distress in the other, for ransom lah. (The damsel must be wearing the least comfortable clothes which clings to the body creating the most unnecessary sillouette and of course high heels).
I live within the vicinity of the hospital where I work and this helipad is probably about 100 yards from my window. I was stood there watching with an Oral-B hard tootbrush in one hand and a shrivelled ikan-kering looking tub of 'Aquafresh' on the other. Somehow I felt an urge to join the growing mass there. 2 ambulances careened into the helipad soonafter, and 2 bodies were ushered out in stretches.
Damn. Why do these always happened when I am not on call?
I then lost interest very quickly and I was sure that it could only be either some wacko wino coming back in the wee hours of Sunday having had a bottle too many, crashed into some tree causing unnecessary distress to the cows and sheep, in some remote village of Yorkshire where no help via the usual land network system could penetrate, or somebody attempted to kill themselves but later found themselves still alive, got scared, therefore rang 999, just so that they get better before they try again.
I am puzzled as to why in the woods (so people can't get to them, but why carry mobile phones?) , why on Saturday nights (maybe it's when they should be out partying) and also why not do it properly?.
Holy macaroni. As I am typing this, another helicoptre is landing. Oh not. Sorry. Got well excited there. Maybe just another one of those choppers doing a patrol to see if any of the motorways are gridlocked.
***
The weather has been absolutely dire past couple of days. It's almost absurd to leave the house.I think I'd develop a kyphotic or even scoliotic back before reaching 40 from bearing those winter coats. So, that's my excuse for being an absolute sluggard, donning nothing but my most fashionable pagoda shirt and wooly socks most of the time, lounging about as if there's 48 hours in a day and my purpose in life is to blog and read blogs.
Last night a few friends from work came over and brought the film Showgirls and also a bottle of Malibu-rum. I have never seen this one before, so I got lured in. I am a firm believer of watching films as it comes, like the movie comes to make me watch it, you know rather than go and make effort to watch it.
This movie here, I would then remember it as a movie I watched in this flat, with this bunch of mentally opressed alcoholic doctors , feeling exactly like this and that because of this and that at that particular time.It would create linkages between the synapses of my rather declining number of neurocytes, hence emblemming some sort of memory in what's left of my brain.
On the other hand, the films I went out to watch as soon as it came out (because I got sucked in by advertisements), lost it's character and essence because the setting was pretty much the same everytime.
You go out, buy the tix, buy poppycorn/nachos (or smuggle KFC chicken wings into TGV-Midvalley) and fizzy drinks and then you watch and then go home, you might talk about it for a bit and you go yea yea I agree or nay nay, you're joking, don't agree, and all memories of it seemed to get washed away after a while.
I don't want to think that this is a premature senile dementia of Pick's syndrome variants setting in when I am not even 30 yet, but I have a nasty feeling that there is a small possibility that it might just be that.
Don't the people/person that you go with make any contribution to remembering the watching of the movie you've watched? No. It's a bit like going to the airports to get back to UK. Done it so many times, it has lost it's novelty. And because of it, my mind had been programmed such that I don't remember what happened at any airports very well anymore.
***
I never liked aiports anyway so that doesn't help. It's always associated with goodbyes and that very word I think should be called something else, something less tragic like chickens, or cheese or pies or cherries.
"I hate saying cheeses, it makes me sad". You can't feel sad even if you try very hard.
What makes it worse is when time spent during your short holiday, with the ones you love most, regretably ended up, getting on each other's nerve which snowballed to shouting and physical contendings much later. At the time it made complete sense. Geram tau, kecik kecik dah pandai menjawab.
For example, during the busiest time in the year, in any muslim household, there would be dishes to be prepared for buka puasa and cakes and cookies and whole load of other things to do to make all the savoury dishes, you would expect everybody to help out, yes?
Now there's a mother, a big sister and a little sister. If the big sister says put the hundredth- time- you've- read-book down and come gentel this biskut I think that should be treated as a non-repeating request, yes, and a rather valid one, yes, considering the next day was going to be raya already.
So if the big sister found herself making a neat nasty little knead at the little sister's little thigh to get her ass going, after repeated summons, then I think it's a completely justified act. But of course there'd be a volcanic eruptions-like scenes and an inevitable drama ensued afterwards which would result in door slammings and threats of going on hunger strikes.
Parting at airports after those kind of dramas which I am sure all sisters go through every now and then are so hard and painful. There's always a feeling of something stuck in the gullet as you look at her which later made more sense to just copy what she did:
Adik: Sorry kak I was being selfish.
Kakak: No lah dik, I am sorry, I was being pedantic.
Adik: NO no I am sorry kak, I was wrong I was lazy I am so sorry.
Kakak: No I am sorry I was too harsh, you baca buku only I went cubit you what for.
Adik: No kak I am sorry, I know you didn't mean it .
Kakak: No lah dik, no I am so sorry , sakit lagi tak..so sorry *sniff*
Adik upon seeing kakak's eyes going red
Adik: Sorryyyy (face now changing the weather setting) *Uwaaaaaaaaaaa *
Kakak: No I am sorryyy *Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa*
Hurmmmm..good thing I didn't go home for raya this year.
My tranquil Sunday morning in bed had been molested by a rather strange sound. Very low and near but I was sure that this military sound could only be a deafening one had I not had the double glazed window shut.
I scrambled to the shyness of daylight peeping through the slit of the two arms of the curtains. Phoaahhhh!! Never do that again. That was an instant blindness by self infliction. Remember never to do that again.
My mind was taken over by an object which looked like a dragonfly landing the green virginal openspace, like those in the movies. Only it didn't have a man waiting on that bit of the helipad, with a sleek pair of suits, sunglasses, stiff upperlip, armed with some gun on one hand and a damsel in distress in the other, for ransom lah. (The damsel must be wearing the least comfortable clothes which clings to the body creating the most unnecessary sillouette and of course high heels).
I live within the vicinity of the hospital where I work and this helipad is probably about 100 yards from my window. I was stood there watching with an Oral-B hard tootbrush in one hand and a shrivelled ikan-kering looking tub of 'Aquafresh' on the other. Somehow I felt an urge to join the growing mass there. 2 ambulances careened into the helipad soonafter, and 2 bodies were ushered out in stretches.
Damn. Why do these always happened when I am not on call?
I then lost interest very quickly and I was sure that it could only be either some wacko wino coming back in the wee hours of Sunday having had a bottle too many, crashed into some tree causing unnecessary distress to the cows and sheep, in some remote village of Yorkshire where no help via the usual land network system could penetrate, or somebody attempted to kill themselves but later found themselves still alive, got scared, therefore rang 999, just so that they get better before they try again.
I am puzzled as to why in the woods (so people can't get to them, but why carry mobile phones?) , why on Saturday nights (maybe it's when they should be out partying) and also why not do it properly?.
Holy macaroni. As I am typing this, another helicoptre is landing. Oh not. Sorry. Got well excited there. Maybe just another one of those choppers doing a patrol to see if any of the motorways are gridlocked.
***
The weather has been absolutely dire past couple of days. It's almost absurd to leave the house.I think I'd develop a kyphotic or even scoliotic back before reaching 40 from bearing those winter coats. So, that's my excuse for being an absolute sluggard, donning nothing but my most fashionable pagoda shirt and wooly socks most of the time, lounging about as if there's 48 hours in a day and my purpose in life is to blog and read blogs.
Last night a few friends from work came over and brought the film Showgirls and also a bottle of Malibu-rum. I have never seen this one before, so I got lured in. I am a firm believer of watching films as it comes, like the movie comes to make me watch it, you know rather than go and make effort to watch it.
This movie here, I would then remember it as a movie I watched in this flat, with this bunch of mentally opressed alcoholic doctors , feeling exactly like this and that because of this and that at that particular time.It would create linkages between the synapses of my rather declining number of neurocytes, hence emblemming some sort of memory in what's left of my brain.
On the other hand, the films I went out to watch as soon as it came out (because I got sucked in by advertisements), lost it's character and essence because the setting was pretty much the same everytime.
You go out, buy the tix, buy poppycorn/nachos (or smuggle KFC chicken wings into TGV-Midvalley) and fizzy drinks and then you watch and then go home, you might talk about it for a bit and you go yea yea I agree or nay nay, you're joking, don't agree, and all memories of it seemed to get washed away after a while.
I don't want to think that this is a premature senile dementia of Pick's syndrome variants setting in when I am not even 30 yet, but I have a nasty feeling that there is a small possibility that it might just be that.
Don't the people/person that you go with make any contribution to remembering the watching of the movie you've watched? No. It's a bit like going to the airports to get back to UK. Done it so many times, it has lost it's novelty. And because of it, my mind had been programmed such that I don't remember what happened at any airports very well anymore.
***
I never liked aiports anyway so that doesn't help. It's always associated with goodbyes and that very word I think should be called something else, something less tragic like chickens, or cheese or pies or cherries.
"I hate saying cheeses, it makes me sad". You can't feel sad even if you try very hard.
What makes it worse is when time spent during your short holiday, with the ones you love most, regretably ended up, getting on each other's nerve which snowballed to shouting and physical contendings much later. At the time it made complete sense. Geram tau, kecik kecik dah pandai menjawab.
For example, during the busiest time in the year, in any muslim household, there would be dishes to be prepared for buka puasa and cakes and cookies and whole load of other things to do to make all the savoury dishes, you would expect everybody to help out, yes?
Now there's a mother, a big sister and a little sister. If the big sister says put the hundredth- time- you've- read-book down and come gentel this biskut I think that should be treated as a non-repeating request, yes, and a rather valid one, yes, considering the next day was going to be raya already.
So if the big sister found herself making a neat nasty little knead at the little sister's little thigh to get her ass going, after repeated summons, then I think it's a completely justified act. But of course there'd be a volcanic eruptions-like scenes and an inevitable drama ensued afterwards which would result in door slammings and threats of going on hunger strikes.
Parting at airports after those kind of dramas which I am sure all sisters go through every now and then are so hard and painful. There's always a feeling of something stuck in the gullet as you look at her which later made more sense to just copy what she did:
Adik: Sorry kak I was being selfish.
Kakak: No lah dik, I am sorry, I was being pedantic.
Adik: NO no I am sorry kak, I was wrong I was lazy I am so sorry.
Kakak: No I am sorry I was too harsh, you baca buku only I went cubit you what for.
Adik: No kak I am sorry, I know you didn't mean it .
Kakak: No lah dik, no I am so sorry , sakit lagi tak..so sorry *sniff*
Adik upon seeing kakak's eyes going red
Adik: Sorryyyy (face now changing the weather setting) *Uwaaaaaaaaaaa *
Kakak: No I am sorryyy *Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa*
Hurmmmm..good thing I didn't go home for raya this year.
