Water under the Bridge

Water under the Bridge

Once upon a time, there lived a hunter's daughter, whose, main entertainment was to loiter the forest behind and to visit her animal friends. She was in particular very friendly with a not-so-bad wolf. She often met the wolf at a bridge where she would call out his name and he would appear. She was very fond of the wolf. He was always jesting at her and playing with her. Now one day, her father, the hunter told her that she was to remain in the house for three days as he was going for a hunter's convention (what they spoke of, she never quite comprehend). She agreed under one condition that she gets some form of entertainment. Not being a very adventurous (irony) person, he allowed her to invite her friends, such as the sparrows and squirrels (who also brought their own kind) to the house. One the first day, she called him from her window and he appeared at the bridge. She was excited. Now on the second and third day, (thanks to her new friends) she was too busy entertaining that she did not call the wolf. In her daily association with her new friends, she started pondering about the wolf. Her new friends had warned her not to fall head over heels with the wolf. After all he is a wolf. But she knew he was a not-so-bad wolf. She wondered if he thought of her. What if he was just being gracious and entertaining her? After all she was not his type. He always thought she was a child. She never behaved like a lady in front of him. She put the thought aside.

On the fourth day, she raced to the bridge and yelled his name. Then something struck her. She was the one calling out his name. He never once called her, unless he was passing by that place. He appeared and they had a short conversation. The wolf was his usual self but he had not noticed the change in her. He left shortly. The hunter's daughter lingered on. She saw the water running down the stream under the bridge. She peered down and saw her reflection. She had dark black eyes. The wolf never once complimented on her looks. She was never pretty, to him. Maybe she was not his kind. She dipped her feet into the water. The coldness penetrated into her bones and she jerked. Something fell off her pocket. It was a carefully crafted gift for the wolf. But she forgot to give it to him. She suppose he would not like it. It would be an imposition for him. What would a gift mean to him after all? She dipped her feet in again. She was getting used to the coldness.

She heard her father's horse. She looked back at her reflected. Pulled her hair up into a bun and decided that it was time to grow up.

Unknown to her a pair of eyes was watching her from the forest...

Freudian Slips

Three hours of consultation resulted in a hurting diaphrams, sore cheeks, hoarse throats and conversations with an 'open book' aka the new character in my life. It all started with an extract from Roald Dahl's "The Landlady". I had misread the word 'thick' as 'dick' and this resulted in a short circuit of the hormone raging consultants. After which every word was an invitation for misinterpretation. The hours dragged with exchanges of puns, innuendos, malapropisms and vivid sensory imagery. I felt I was back being a JC student introduced to Gothic literature. Life has never been the same. I realised that once you 'get it' you can never stop. The intellectual word of diction opens a huge flood gate that takes hours to sieze its flow. I was proud of my consultants as they got better at the game and were able to think within and outside of the box. An achievement that one cannot atttain just by reading.

On the side note, my consultants had decided to invite my new character into my life and theirs (without my knowledge of course!) I was worried at first because he was a complete stranger who was dangling candy before them. But to my surprise, he engaged them in a polite and friendly conversation (how kind indeed). It made them feel confident and good (thank you!) The consultants actually enjoyed 'having him around'. I have never met someone despite his busy schedule who would take time to humour them. I suppose he was being himself rather than trying to impress or be polite like most people would. It is a pity that my consultants did not have a chance to meet that stranger of theirs.

Perhaps if fate permits so....

A sense of regret and appreciation

Sometimes I wonder if I actually spend enough time showing my appreciation to those around me and feeling for those quiet ones. I mean take my literature teacher in JC, Mr Yeo, for instance. I mean he is one heck of a teacher who stood by me during my darkest times and even now listening to my soap operas in my life. Not to mention still editing my essays. I have a great deal of respect for him (beside the fact that we match 90%  in our personalities including our ambitions if we ever decide not to be teachers. God! We would have painted the town red!) It is people like him that inspire me to be a teacher. He does not need an award because he has won the hearts of many. The greatest award of all. Of course, he is not the only one, I have a list and I hope that somewhere in their busy lives, they know that I appreciate them for what they have done for me, just in case I do not have the opportunity to thank them.

Then there are those who are shy and quiet. I sometimes get carried away because I am a loud extrovert who seems to like the attention and the limelight. I tend to do things sometimes not aware of what people feel around me. At the current moment, I have a slight regret for a particular person who I have asked to not bother getting to know me. Ironic isn't it? I mean an attention seeker asking someone to ignore her? Well, lets put it this way, my mind thinks faster than my reaction. At the spur of the moment I challenged the person. I like chaos and challenges, but at the same time, a rough appproach in writing may not be the best option when it comes to undestanding the tone and mood of the person. I generally do not intend to hurt and I hope I have not done so. However on the other hand, now to think about it, it may just be up his alley. Words only hurt if a person fails to analyse it well. Diction has been crucial in sending the message. If he really read my message, he would understand the context in which the message was sent.

A special thanks to the person who once told me to write everyday. It does help me clear my mind and better express myself. It is indeed a great way for me to understand my own thoughts and feelings. Now I am curious, does the intent reader see it the way I do? I shall find out soon.

The Hangover(Not from alcohol) from sleepless nights

I had never had a hangover before but a hangover from sleepless nights is one that often haunts me on a regular basis. To those who are new to this term or think that you suffer from the syndrome, let me enlighten you. It is a process whereby your subconscious mind and conscious mind are working concurrently producing ideas and resolving internal and external conflicts in your life. This results in what many are familiar with, 'brain doing overtime' syndrome.I have so many 'cases' yesterday in particular being the peak of a certain finding, that I had arrived in school with the least awareness of what was happening for the day.

My first issue is regarding my own life soap opera which I direct and star in which, I am proud to say I have a fan club for. Metaphorically speaking, I have completed reading a current text. However to my horror have just discovered that the text (personified) assumes it can analyze its critic. In current times, different texts tend to engage their readers at a deeper level. The irony is that to many this seem to be a new trend. The truth is  far from it. Writers and poets as early as the 11th and 12th centuries have written pieces that still remain unsolved in today's day and age. Works of James Joyce and John Donne are not easy reads and still remain a mystery to many who seek to find precious jewels in them. What more that of human nature. I have to profess I, like these poets and works am a 'closed book'. The complexity of what I am is hard to comprehend if you have no idea who I am in different contexts. A mask has many layers when its purpose is different And how naive it is for this particular 'text' to analyze me. An impossible task, doomed to fail.

The second issue is the numerous admin work I have to perform, thanks to the end-of -the year exams. Marking, script checking and keying in marks. Not to mention the preparation for the Bintan trip. Today I had the privilege to visit my 10 courts of hell. If one decides to work for Hell after death, please take your crash course here. These occupants of  hell are highly intelligent but absolutely hyper species who would put The Deatheaters in the Harry Potter series to shame. They suck the life faster than you dying from the Kiss of Death. And believe it or not, I have become as deranged as them. So today I had some work to do with them. The horror, I was allocated two hours for my business with them and they finished it in an hour (how they did it with that noise level of chimpanzees going mad when they see the zookeepers with food, is a miracle).  Nevertheless, that left me with the other hour where I thought light entertainment would be good. So I showed them Odysseys. They were so engrossed, they lingered around for an extra 10 minutes to watch the gore and blood of Odysseys killing the men who invaded his world. Nevertheless, there was minimum damage to my ear drums and to the venue property, hurray for that. Well, they are not that bad, just uniquely unbearable at times. 

The third issue at hand is the lives of others I am involved in. Being there for them and helping them (to my mother's discerning disapproval). She always has the idea that I do not care about her. But the truth is I do, but one cannot help it if I do have a life and she does not! (Kidding mom! No wait....) Nevertheless, she thinks I am self centered and stubborn but little does she realize, I learn it from her. For instance, I told her not to clean the window grills. She went to do that and could not lift her arm. Which part of my sentence did she not understand? When asked she says she was bored and was helping in the cleaning of the house. When I say the same thing about something else and get myself hurt, she calls me being a menace who thinks she is helping but giving more trouble than help. Now let's see where do I learn it from? MY MOTHER. There is more than just this, but that is another story for another day. Nevertheless, these friends' problems become my problems in a way because I just enjoy  a certain form of chaos.

With all these who would not have a hangover from sleepless nights? Oh well, I hope I can get a good night's rest tonight.

A new character in my life

I am thorougly exhausted after keying in marks in the cockpit and having consultations with students who make you wonder what you have been teaching them all your life. Not to mention the long yet necessary briefing for my Bintan trip next week. Despite all this, life have been good to me. I have time for light entertainment, joking and teasing with my colleagues and even sitting down in the office in my FBT shorts and T-shirt typing while waiting for my skirt to dry. I got myself wet (get your minds off the gutter!) I really have to be very careful of what I say as it may be skewed to mean something else. Thanks to this new character in my life. Now don't bother asking me who it is because at the rate I am going, I would have the whole world in my FB site.

In fact thanks to him, I have began blogging because he mentioned that if I ever had a blog, he would read it. I doubt it though because he seem to be married to his job. 8 years and he loves his job. It amazes me given how much backstabbing is involved in the private sector (though the civil sector may not be the greener grass at times). Anyways, I just realised that he is such a refreshing character in my life. He is neither charming in the way I am used to, nor exactly the go getter. But he is intellectually challenging ( not mentally challenging). Someone who is really nice to speak figuratively with and who is so good with words that I have to use the PEE structure to analyze his conversation with me. I won't say that he is the smart- I - know-what - I am talking about type but he is creative in the way he uses his words. Oh no, he is not a speaker but a writer. If I ever had a theme music for my life with him in it now, it would be a French music, like from the movie Amelie. If you ever get to meet him, he may be a normal, charming guy but to me, he is abnormal in his own way. I never once glanced at him because to me, at first sight he is a snob. A white snob ( his skin is white like snow, like the one I saw in Japan. He is Asian by the way).  But I like the way he pretends to be coy when he clearly is not but that is his most attractive appeal. The amazing mask that he puts on. But on the whole, I think he is really sweet if you learn to read him closely. He is a text worth reading.