Friday, February 11, 2005
I Am Only One Call Away
I will be on call tonight and despite telling myself I should get some sleep earlier in the day, I found myself driving to the city centre.
What I found strange was, in all the 4 shops that I went to, after the visit to Barclays and the Post Office, I noticed the same song being played. That Alicia Keys song. Funny how, some songs meant more to you than usual when you’re at some particular place, at some particular moment, feeling some particular feelings. I suppose it’s that vibration again.
The song must have been vibrating at quite a low frequency matching my not so high one, and upon doing that, they just hit the motorway of melancholy without any services along the way for any remote possibility of recuperating.
Had mocha at Starbucks all by myself, and had a deep 2 way conversation with expanded self. Had a book with me to dress myself with oh look I am so comfortable sitting here all by myself. Don’t pity me. Expanded self wasn’t pleased that I am feeling rather vulnerable these days. I can’t help it though. It’d be a lie to say that I am not. Who wouldn’t .
There’s Cik T who is not feeling very bright. She’s started coughing round about the same time as when I started, and still coughing. I don’t think her cough is going to get any better with her sudden interest in getting all the cactuses into the pots. All those dust and pollens are only just too happy to make their way into some moist places, like her throat.
Oli still wet the bed despite getting the ‘chop-chop’ 10 months ago, and this makes Cik T miserable. Over the phone, he made some noise which was suppose to be that of an angry Turkey and that of a surprised Turkey.
To be honest it sounded more like a cookie monster choking on some cookies. I made the same noise to connect and he seemed to understand and so we had a deep, thoughtful Turkey conversation for a while. We stopped when he actually spluttered the rice all over the phone. He passed the phone back to Cik T. More headache for Cik T.
Nadia is home from the boarding school and she’s into fighting the boys - Taekwando. Who better to practice with? She has two boys in their 20s to have challenging roaring sparring with. She seems to think that we don't have to cook the food before we can eat them. This gives Cik T more headache.
One of the boys had a D in his recent exam and demanded for a re-sit which will cost Cik T money. He’s at his most self recently. I know he is fighting, and he wants to be normal and well, like any other 20 odd year olds.
His veins flow the metabolites of all sorts of benzodiazepines, amines and esters, but still he wakes up in the morning, fighting those voices, those ramblings from the third person. Last exam, despite all that, he got up on the stage for the ‘best student’ award. Cik T was proud. She wore the Bally shoes I gave her for the ceremony. I was proud. Not shocked.
We always knew that he’s the strongest among us all, and the most clever. He is The Fighter. He even fights the police when they come to take him to ward 7 sometime ago.
My Old Man is still in Mekah and will only be home on the 22nd. Money is a bit tight. Cik T gets most headaches from The Fighter, but I told Cik T I am always here and all she has to do is tell me when I call.
The other one of the boys, The Musang is also home, having a respite from his creative world, but camouflages himself as either an owl or a musang. He will only be seen during the day not moving, still and not budging apart from his respiratory muscles and intermittent tossing and turning in the living room, and in the night he will metamorphosize into either an owl who reads dusty books or a musang out on a hunt for chicken eggs. Only to come home in the morning to sleep.
It’s quite hard sometimes to get to the TV when he rigor mortis right in front of it and imagine a 10 year old trying to watch Kluang Man on mute. Not easy. I feel for you Oli.
And me? I’ve done what I could today on my end to help Cik T a bit and also something which I haven’t done for anyone for a long long time.
I hope tonight won’t be one of those on calls, and I hope I survive the forthcoming bittersweet months to be at 828 Sri Aman. Anon. Ameen.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND SELAMAT MENYAMBUT MAAL HIJRAH.
What I found strange was, in all the 4 shops that I went to, after the visit to Barclays and the Post Office, I noticed the same song being played. That Alicia Keys song. Funny how, some songs meant more to you than usual when you’re at some particular place, at some particular moment, feeling some particular feelings. I suppose it’s that vibration again.
The song must have been vibrating at quite a low frequency matching my not so high one, and upon doing that, they just hit the motorway of melancholy without any services along the way for any remote possibility of recuperating.
Had mocha at Starbucks all by myself, and had a deep 2 way conversation with expanded self. Had a book with me to dress myself with oh look I am so comfortable sitting here all by myself. Don’t pity me. Expanded self wasn’t pleased that I am feeling rather vulnerable these days. I can’t help it though. It’d be a lie to say that I am not. Who wouldn’t .
There’s Cik T who is not feeling very bright. She’s started coughing round about the same time as when I started, and still coughing. I don’t think her cough is going to get any better with her sudden interest in getting all the cactuses into the pots. All those dust and pollens are only just too happy to make their way into some moist places, like her throat.
Oli still wet the bed despite getting the ‘chop-chop’ 10 months ago, and this makes Cik T miserable. Over the phone, he made some noise which was suppose to be that of an angry Turkey and that of a surprised Turkey.
To be honest it sounded more like a cookie monster choking on some cookies. I made the same noise to connect and he seemed to understand and so we had a deep, thoughtful Turkey conversation for a while. We stopped when he actually spluttered the rice all over the phone. He passed the phone back to Cik T. More headache for Cik T.
Nadia is home from the boarding school and she’s into fighting the boys - Taekwando. Who better to practice with? She has two boys in their 20s to have challenging roaring sparring with. She seems to think that we don't have to cook the food before we can eat them. This gives Cik T more headache.
One of the boys had a D in his recent exam and demanded for a re-sit which will cost Cik T money. He’s at his most self recently. I know he is fighting, and he wants to be normal and well, like any other 20 odd year olds.
His veins flow the metabolites of all sorts of benzodiazepines, amines and esters, but still he wakes up in the morning, fighting those voices, those ramblings from the third person. Last exam, despite all that, he got up on the stage for the ‘best student’ award. Cik T was proud. She wore the Bally shoes I gave her for the ceremony. I was proud. Not shocked.
We always knew that he’s the strongest among us all, and the most clever. He is The Fighter. He even fights the police when they come to take him to ward 7 sometime ago.
My Old Man is still in Mekah and will only be home on the 22nd. Money is a bit tight. Cik T gets most headaches from The Fighter, but I told Cik T I am always here and all she has to do is tell me when I call.
The other one of the boys, The Musang is also home, having a respite from his creative world, but camouflages himself as either an owl or a musang. He will only be seen during the day not moving, still and not budging apart from his respiratory muscles and intermittent tossing and turning in the living room, and in the night he will metamorphosize into either an owl who reads dusty books or a musang out on a hunt for chicken eggs. Only to come home in the morning to sleep.
It’s quite hard sometimes to get to the TV when he rigor mortis right in front of it and imagine a 10 year old trying to watch Kluang Man on mute. Not easy. I feel for you Oli.
And me? I’ve done what I could today on my end to help Cik T a bit and also something which I haven’t done for anyone for a long long time.
I hope tonight won’t be one of those on calls, and I hope I survive the forthcoming bittersweet months to be at 828 Sri Aman. Anon. Ameen.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND SELAMAT MENYAMBUT MAAL HIJRAH.
