Well, labor Day, and I need to read my Engineering notes

I’m getting more and more annoyed of someone lately. However, I found a way to overcome that. Every time I got annoyed, I’ll draw a stick picture, and a hand throwing a pen at her. Then, it’s a pencil, a book, etc…if ever I got annoyed by the same person. If it was another person, then I’ll just draw another stick figure. Hum…

Anyway, that stick figure neither represents mom or dad, although I’m getting a little bit suspicious of both lately. Dad keeps staying up late (and this time, outside the bedroom), as if he was avoiding sleeping with mom. And he keeps getting up earlier and earlier, as if he’d make sure he’d be there when the beeping of the PDA comes every 7.10am. I checked the clock today, and the message did come at 7.10. It’s getting more accurate every day, as if it was an alarm clock. (Maybe it is.)

And in these few days, when we kids are too busy catching up on either TV shows or sleep time (or revision time, like me), we don’t really tag along with mom and dad like we used to. Lately, they’ve been going out by the twosome. First few days, they’d ask us to tag along, but since nobody’s budging from the TV (or waking up), they went solo (or duet, in this case). And after a few more ‘dates’, they stop short of asking, or even giving an explanation of where they are going. As if they don’t want us to tag along if we do. They’d just pack their wallets and pick up the keys and ask us if we want dinner tonight (they’d be home so late, sometimes it’s past dinner anyway).

So I asked myself: are mom and dad REALLY getting back again?

Ah, and one more thing, tonight, I saw mom and dad doing their date again. I asked them where they are going, what place is it, will they bring home food, etc, normal questions; and mom was like “Why do you wanna know?” and she made all this evasive somewhere-somehow-someplace-you don’t wanna know-maneuver. I went upstairs and asked the rest of the kids. They said they’d be somewhere in town, my little bro told me (he probably heard them talking, that’s why he knew).

Almost 12 midnight, and they came home. I asked if they were any food bought, but mom said “We didn’t buy any. The store’s closed when we got there.” (Ah-ah! That’s a clue there). I looked round a little later and saw these two mineral water bottles right near the stairs. Hm…then he said to my lil bro that the bottles are from the nearby Indian grocer. Why’d you take so long to buy a couple of bottles from an Indian store less than a quarter mile away?

Yup, you’re going to see that psychic.

I thought dad hated him.

The bottles are now on the dining table.

And mom's just been having that mud bath again.

I’m gonna make sure no-one’s drinking it, unless I’m sure of what’s inside.

Cuz I don’t trust that psychic!

Anecdotes

One time, dad went to the psychic to get a quick ‘scan’ (of spiritual energy). Then he went home with a bottle of mineral water drink, one to ‘patch up their marriage’ drink, and one for ‘the stubborn little kid’ (I mean my lil brother to make him behave better). The latter was put on the livingroom table, where my lil brother could see it. “What is it?” he asked.

“Oh, it was a drink from the psychic, for you to behave.” Mom said.

“Hey, don’t spoil the surprise!” dad exclaimed “he’s not gonna drink it for sure!”

Well, sure enough, after a few days, it is still untouched. Then dad said to me:

“You know, maybe next time we should try using Coca-Cola.”

“I went out with someone from vet and all I got was this blog written about me”—the fallout girl

Okay, today, I woke up early, just to catch that dreadful message. Well, at 6.45, maybe that’s too early in my terms. I went for a bath, and then I left to iron my clothes when I realized that dad has already gone to shower. Ooh, an opportunity! I went in the bedroom and took dad’s PDA phone. Click, click, click, it went (the click was too loud so I went down the stairs to use it.

Did I found out anything? No, it seems that at 7am, nobody really wake up that early to give a googly-googly message. Anyway, I made a mental note of what was in that Inbox of his, and went to iron my clothes. Pretty soon, at 7.10am….

Beep! Beep! The PDA goes. I turned round, just to catch a glimpse. Oh man! Dad was right in front of the phone! Man, how come he wakes up so early these days? He closed the door on me, as I was facing the opposite direction.

Okay, plan B: I grabbed my cream, and whatever I can lay my hands on, and went to dad’s room. “I wanna return this”, I said. Dad was beside the bed (where the PDA is) and was preparing for his morning prayers (at 7.10am, that’s pretty late even in my terms). I let him do his stuff, as I waited behind the door. I wanted to hear whether there was a click-click sound or anything that indicates he was holding the PDA.

Nothing. I came back to and borrow the cream or something, quite a few times; and I think dad was already suspicious of me. He seems to wander near the door a lot, as if he’s waiting for me to finish my ironing. Well, fat chance. I even wear my shirt and pants there. Pretty soon dad went downstairs, and I followed.

Up to that point, I found nothing at all. I was thinking of just grabbing his phone and just open his inbox right in front of him. Let him know that her daughter is on his heels. But no, I decided to just do it later in his car (it’s been a habit of mine to grab his PDA anyway, so he got used to it anyway).

In the car, I took the PDA and opened it. Did I see anything? No. Still no! I’m pretty sure I heard a message, but the Inbox was the same from before! Nothing had changed. I checked the deleted items folder, and it was cleaned (maybe recently). Anyway, I decided to check his schedule for any change. Do you remember the last blog about dad going to a convention out-of –state? Well, according to the schedule, the convention never existed. Not this April, nor this May, or even June. So??

As I was musing over the phone, dad told me that I should not be waiting for him this evening (that means no going to his office every 5pm).

“But why dad? I need to go home late, cuz I have a discussion with my…”

“No, you go home with mom. I’m late until 6.00pm”.

“Mom? That’s too early—1pm! Besides, I don’t mind 6pm, we used to go home at that time anyway…”

“I’m late, 6—6.30 pm. Something like that. End of discussion.”

This smells like fish—in a vet office. Hm….maybe I’ll drop in his office later this evening. Mom, you can go and have your lunch beside the lake like you planned.I wont disturb you.

Daddy and the Swallow

Yesterday, I accompanied my sister to a date with her boy. Well, they are as shy as ever, they don’t wanna sit side by side on the bus,(much less talk), and they don’t even wanna take a picture together, until I forced them to. Then my sis realized that Mr Boo here didn’t look similar to her, and she went really sad cuz she heard this rumor that couples that look similar lasts forever (that means get married). Ah, after two designer ties, three Mc Chicken, one upside-down ice-cream and a really huge teddybear, she should have given that date an A+.

Anyway, that aside, I’ve been very suspicious of dad. Everyday, it’s the same thing: He woke up at 7.00, and went to the bathroom; then at 7.10 his cellphone rang. 7.15 he come out of his bathroom, closed the door, and won’t open until 7.30. I thought this was just odd, until I remembered that my aforementioned sis confessed once that she sneak up to read dad’s cell at this time of the morning.

Well, that means I have to wake up early now.

Like the usual, I went to dad’s office on the evenings before we go home. He packed up his laptop, files and a jar of what I thought was a dead worm, and he clocked out. Halfway down the stairs, I thought I saw a swallow (the bird, you know) on the glass window. But instead of flying, it stood there at the aluminum railing.

I said to dad: “The bird’s stuck,” while pointing at the bird that can’t seem to know that banging on the glass window won’t make it get thru.

Dad looked at that bird for a while, and then moved forward to the bird without looking back. Then he just handed his file to me (which I could barely catch). He took less than a second to scoop up that bird, and that bird didn’t even move or make a sound (yes, it is still alive, just so you know). He walked down the stairs, greeted some of his staffs playing table tennis (“Varsity Staff Tournament, eh?”) and went out the door. He swung his hand up high, and the bird just rockets away. (reminds me of Gandhi).

I went very quiet as we moved to the car,cuz I was thinking of how people could do that kind of random acts of kindness. I’ve never felt this awe for dad ever since we had that fight during his stay in China. The same kind of awe I used to feel when I was a little girl.

“Beep! Beep!” Goes his phone, dad asked me to open it. It was his friend, saying about his files or something. “Just reply ‘OK’,” he asked me as he drove. He usually asked me to take his call and answer his messages while on the road. So I have quite a timeline to look into his Inbox.

Did I find anything?

Nothing.

And that’s weird.

No messages for 7.10 am, or close to that. As a matter of fact, no messages at 7.10 at all for ANY day! And there were messages from everyone else since last week that he never even deleted: from mom, from auntie, from me, form my bro, from my sis, from his male friends…

By the way, he just announced that he will be going for three days starting 12^th May, on a convention in this certain place out of state. When mom asked if she could tag along, he declines by saying “I’d like to ride the company van so I could cut on fuel.”

Says the man who earns $10000 a month.

I think dad wouldn’t lie about any convention at all, besides, I could check his laptop and mail if I want to. I just hope that convention will not be a rendezvous point for….

Is the case open again?

I’m sure to wake up early this Thurs. and Fri. Just

Oh, my dear Alfie!

What’s a stick-thin, tanned, knock-kneed, underpants-wearing, sofa-sleeping, football-loving madman?

That’s my brother.

Lately, I’ve been thinking: maybe he's weird. So I've been observing him.

And all I can see is:

Morning: wake up, wear underpants, sit in front of the TV with a blanket. Then turn on the TV. Right to football channel.

Afternoon: Sister/big sister/father asked for the remote. Refused to give in. watch more football until evening. Oh yes! I forgot. Go and play football with friends.

Evening; Watch more football. Somebody asked for the remote, again. Refused, watch more TV—Transformers(1984 version). Throw a tantrum if people ask for remote.

Night: Watch more football until mom starts nagging. Go to bedroom and slam door.

Late night: Mom leaves and TV is empty. Watch more football.

Strangely, this seems to happen everyday. Football, TV, in blankie and underpants. Doesn’t he have a life? Ah, soooo….annoying! always in his underpants, and nobody likes to see his stick-thin legs. Complains of being cold, so he need to sleep in a camping’s sleeping bag. Maybe he need to realise that he turn on the fan full-speed everyday. And yes, he hardly bathes. Let alone pray to god. Or doing his maths homework.

Everyone is at wit’s end with him. Yes, we know he loves Chelsea, but why does he have to watch EVERY SINGLE match of EPL, SERIE A, EUROPE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE, plus F1, F3 AND MOTORSPORTS?? Or watch the one-hour match review AFTER watching the match itself? That’s just 30 plus of slow-mos of every single (usually ONLY single goal) of the match. God knows if he could understand the deep British accent of the EPL commentators…he can’t even understand proper English!

And what’s with the tantrum? You are 14 for god’s sake! Throwing a tantrum to the person who paid the pay TV bill…that’s asking for trouble, little boy. Let alone banning other people form watching TV.

I tried blocking the football channel once, with the kid-lock system, but I deactivated it before he even notices. No, it wasn’t pity, it was more of…fear. I remembered once I refused him watching Football TV at 2am because I wanted some reading time for myself…he sprayed me with bug-spray, kicked my CD collection, throw torn newspapers all over me while I’m reading, and torn my sister’s magazine into pieces (what does SHE had to do with this?). Then he gave me those hreatening I KILL YOU look while pacing around me for around 1 hour.

That’s psychotic.

And we have TWO TVs for god’s sake! Why can’t he go downstairs and watch there?

And what’s with the underpants! God! Wear something!

Not another Virgin

A statement to depressed person who are thinking of another killing spree:

Take it from the people who once had been in that hole of depression.

Snap out of it.

You don’t need to wait for your environment to change for you to feel better.

YOU change your environment to make you feel better.

And if you think killing another couple of guys is better than only killing yourself because now people will remember you, well, you are wrong. At the end of that killing spree all you have is guilt. Looking at those people you cut short their lives, you can only think about all the people outside that will think of you as : nuts, depressed, psychotic, loner, loser. Not proud. That’s why gunmen shot themselves in the end.

Because they cannot live with such guilt.

And yes, don’t compare yourself to Jesus. You’re not even remotely close.

Hm...a shooting....

Well, this is the first time I've ever written about 'outside world' things in my blog, but I can't help it. Well, it's about the Virginia Tech shooting. Coincidentally, three days short of my birthday, and the anniversary of the Columbine High shooting. Darn, April 20 is downright unlucky--first it was Hitler's Birthday, then this?
Anyway, things like these kept me thinking: If someone run amok at your Uni, what will you do? Run? Hide? Hoping he didn't shoot you? It seems that if people are bitter of the world, they don't pick their victims. just kill.
At that day of the shooting, all I can think about was: Must be a crazy white man, a nerdy junior who get thrown away in garbage cans and forced to eat from the cafeteria drains. Oh, no, I was wrong, and it's a South Korean man. (hey, I though South Koreans are nice. Like Bi/Rain?)
And no, that guy didn't shoot to kill some jock who lock him inside lockers. He was just antisocial, twisted and bitter. And he wrote lots of screenplay that depict gore and hate "and something from a nightmare", a friend had said about him.
Strangely, that sound 'almost' like me. I was that nerd who kept get bullied when I was in grade school, by big, popular girls: either your in their team, or your out. And if you're in, you need to share your lunch, your homework, and sometimes your money with them. And one kid had a bully as a dad. Her dad came to school one to beat up some sense to a kid, and whoo-hoo, that guy was BAD, and if you could imagine a mullet head with a fat little monster as a kid, then congrats, it's them.
There's even a guy learning karate and he beat me up black and blue. What did I do? I told my mom that I had fallen from the stairs and hurt myself. When she found out the real truth and called the school, I wished that I could call in sick the next day. I was afraid of anyone to know? Why am I not even GLAD that somebody found out about that jerk? Mom, well, sometimes when I told her I got bullied, she said "You stupid! Why don't you fight back?"

Well, mom. I'm a girl four feet tall! What can I do?

Then, at the end of the grade school year, I found out that I graduated top of my class, got a trip right to the school's hall of fame, but there is no-one to celebrate it with. And I found out that my friends weren't actually friends...well, FINALLY after five years I had some sense to leave them. But at that time, I was practically antisocial.
Strangely, that was the best time for my writing skills--I got lots of stuffs going on in my brain. No, nothing hate and gore, just depressing stories. (lucky me, or I'll end up like that Virginia Tech guy). I wrote stuffs about teen rage, I got in the red card a few times (that's the disciplinary report card), and I deliberately wrote things in red ink (which prompted a teacher to say "you have an emotional problem, dear." Well, they don't bother to send me to the counselor, since I was still on top of my class, and I was a regular school rep for inter-school competitions. The 'almost last' straw came when when I had a paranoid obsessive-compulsive woman for my English teacher (seriously, she IS.) I don't know how to explain her disorder to you, but I tell you, she IS disturbed (only a disturbed person can detect another). Anyway, she had fight with almost everyone about nothing at all (whenever she had that violent mood swings), and forced every kid to cry when she target them. And you know, I'm the only one who's antisocial enough to sit at the back of the class and not cry at all when she went into her crazy ramblings, or her crazy eyes either. You know what she finally say. "YOU, KID, are troubled. If you keep on like this, you'll grow up DISTURBED." (seriously, y then I realized that I have a problem: everybody cry when they are confronted with a crazy woman; that's normal. But I didn't even flinch (it shocked the whole class even).
I really did became antisocial for three years, and I can't remember ANYTHING that happened when I was fourteen. Really (probably I just sit in class sulking all day)...except the fact that my email name was rage_14@hotmail.com (it doesn't exist anymore). I went like that until I got tired of depression at the end of junior high. I decided that those bullies are out of my life completely, and I'm in a new school, and these classmates of mine are really nice guys.
I did call the Samaritans a couple of times, but they are not much help except repeating whatever you said "So you feel angry and disappointed that your life is so troubled...". Bah! I decided that she (the Samaritans) was giving me a hint: I can't help you, I'm only paid to repeat what you said until you hand up can kill yourself. Only you can solve your own problems.
And I did. Just enjoy all those things that I used to like in grade school: Become the best nerd in class, becoming the teacher's pet, beating every crappy boy in inter-school quizzes, and befriend the class clown. hahah...inner bliss.
I can't say that I've completely changed: I still prefer to avoid people sometimes, and I have a few ideas on an 'action-packed' comic script (hey, no gore, I promise). But looking back, I do change: My 'friend' from grade school used to tease my teeth; I made my teeth 'new' by going to the dentist a couple of years ago. And I used to wear huge, round glasses and 'old school' dresses (My old high school friend thought I still do). Now I do wear glasses, but I wore contacts and dressed to kill (I'm a boho-chick now). Last week my dorm friend from college last year took a whole minute to recognize me before saying HEEEYYY!!! IT'S YOUUUU!!!!
Hmmm, when is the next school reunion

Oh, I forgot; they didn't usually invite me. At least that what Muin, my high school friend said to me.

Friend of a friend (FOAF)

I had the chance of a free breakfast with mom and dad this morning, and Mom told me about her old friend (she always does that, even when I have the lowest chance of listening, or at least pay attention). That old friend had five kids (like mom), but all of them are boys. Incidentally, they also have the same age as us (wow, when can I meet him, mom?) and they are all the smart type (not the biker-dude-mullet-head type abundant in my hometown). The difference is…they all went to reputable uni overseas.

“One is in USA, studying computer engineering, one is your brother’s senior in local Uni, and one, the same age as your sister is already doing medic in Egypt.” And all of them are bachelors! (not the degree, silly). I immediately remembered my friend Shak, who is in Egypt doing medic. And my friend Sheezy, medic in…somewhere, overseas; and Uja, currently in Australia. I remember that I almost cried when Shak told me he’d leave for Egypt. Not because I missed him (really), but rather because that was supposed to be my dream!

As I sat there, eating my food in the shop overlooking my old high school (which was across the lake, pretty nice), I remembered my what my ex-teacher said when she found out I got Food Technology course on a Uni just across the road form school.

She said: What a waste.

No wonder I wasn’t invited to any reunions or career-day talk. Even though graduated on top of class (apart form my friend, Chen Hou; he was first and I was second straight A’s in our school), I was never invited, nor given a certificate. The last time I went there was as a family rep for the PTA meeting (and I sat there gossiping about almost everyone with my teachers—like a true housewife in a PTA meeting). That aside, I still never got a real invitation, nor did they ever referred to me as a ‘success story’, although I was also a club president, participated in every debate and quiz competition, I represented the school for N-Day celebration in the dance troupe (which was still shown on TV—few weeks ago), and even got third in a national short-story writing competition.

It’s like I was ‘erased’.

“How come I don’t get to go to Egypt?” I asked mom.

“Because we don’t have the right connections.” Dad answered, blankly (hey, I remember: was it because mom wanted me to spy on dad?).

“Were all of your friend’s sons are smart?” I asked.

“Not really, they just have the right connections.”

“Sometimes, all you need is a friend of a friend, right there in the Ministry of Education, where the scholarship is. That’s where my friends got her daughters and sons to go to overseas Unis.”

I immediately remembered all the commotion last month about a hundred or so parents of kids who got straight As but fail to get any scholarship. They all complained that their kids should get the chance to study in reputable Unis, but then again some other people just rebut back with a saying “You think you deserved it just because you got straight As.”

Well, it’s true, really. Colleges and Unis are not cheap, based from my experience. I almost cannot continue studying for next semester when the Uni wanted to block me out—since my scholarship had run out and I cannot afford to pay for sem fees!

“That’s why you’d see one member of a family getting scholarships, then the rest of the family will get one too.”

“Don’t we have any connections, mom?”

“Our connections are politicians dear, and they don’t like politicians.” Mom replied bluntly.

That’s true. We tried that connection to secure a college for my sis-it never worked out. Hahah.

Mom, oh mom....

Ever since the start of the semester I've been daddy's little girl. Oh, not literally! just the fact that I'm always at dad's office after 5 (usually ransacking his fridge for chocolate cakes and iced latte), made his secretary and the others think I'm daddy's little girl.
That aside, mom asked me whether I've stopped hanging out in his office. I said :you're kidding? I've been there everyday! And I even know his what-nots: the fact that he 'threw away' his desktop computer and only uses his laptop, not too long ago. by the way, why did he do that?
And mom's been thinking the same thing. Because later she asked me whether 'all his data is in the laptop'. And I said, yeah, I could even open it. (mistake of hinting to mom that I finally figured out his new password).
Around two in the morning while I was watching Cardcaptor Sakura on Animax, mom suddenly tiptoed to the TV room where I was. And I was like: Mom, are you doing your homework too? And she said: Shh!
In her arms was dad's laptop (mom has her own so this immediately looks suspicious). And she was like: You can do it (open it), right? Before I could say anything, she On-ned the laptop (after she figured out how to open the clasp). And what can I do? I typed dad's password (by the way, for the world to see, it is hmd1200). So, mom went on opening every file (especially the picture viewer) and checking all the paper files in his laptop bag.
As she does that, I cannot stop thinking. What if dad realizes that mom woke up? And grabbed his laptop and go to the outside the room? Of course I'm the immediate accomplice, because I'm the only tech whiz around the house after my bro went to Uni. What if we were caught? I kept thinking that I am 'teaching' my mom to be distrustful to dad, since I told her how I could crack his password, or ransack his desk, etc. Then my mom and dad would split up...and I'd be burned to hell for separating two (supposedly) lovers.
There I was with my own laptop on my side, doing my chemist homework and mom on the other trying to pry open the picture viewer. She was pretty suspicious of everything, saying "Who's that in the picture?", "Who's this?", "Where is this?" and so on. Whatever I thought of those pictures, I can only say "No, I don't know. Probably some co-workers", or "That was a recent picture".
I thought about telling mom on dad, but I realized that it was the stupidest action that I could ever do (except that time where I starved myself for 24 hours to kill all the microbes in my colon), so I kept quiet. And mom's been reading that Pandora file on dad's laptop, and all she could say was "Stupid!". Oh mom, that was soo over! get a grip....(that's what I said to her, anyway)
This sucks.
And what more sucks?
Last night as I was staying up I heard a loud thud. Usually, Id figure out that it's my cat Shiro and open up the door for her, but tonight I said "Serves you right Shiro! That's for late night partying with friends".
Was that Shiro then? This morning I saw dad peering through the window. He asked me "I haven't seen that old cabinet smashed to smithereens like this. Have you? Last night it wasn't like this".
That's right.
And the cabinet doors, albeit removed was arranged neatly behind the old sofa. And the wedges on the cabinet had broke and frayed, as if someone's leaning or standing on it.
That cabinet was right on the side of a high fence. On a two-meter wall.
Why didn't that person just use the door?

uh-uh....right

i have a lot of stuff to upload to my blog, namely my blog from the last few days. but then again, i forgot where i put them. Anyway, quite new news:
1> I repaired my China MP4 using a foam double-sided tape. it worked! But now I had to 'renew' all the song list in it since the last time i used it was like last semester.
2>Mom bought my bro a new handphone. But a day before she send them to him, she decided to give him my lil bro's handphone, (and thus the little brat will get a new one). I explained to him that although the new one was 'new', it was practically the oldest model in the book, and even my little brat's phone is more valuable (some old B&W Nokia over a B&W Motorola). I once had lost that Motorola in the library and thought it was a goner until I found out that someone returned it to the librarian's counter because he thought it was an 'old people's phone'. pretty useful fact for giving a hp to a person who's always a target for looters. hoo!
3>getting a lot more stressed!!!! Ugh...I hadn't read anything! I cant concentrate more than 10 minutes on a subject...I need a plan.
4>I made a deal with my sis...she's starting her final exam in a couple of days, and I said to her that, we made a deal: Any on e of us who gt higher than the other will get a guitar from me....(both of us love music and mom just gave us a green light to buy em, so...) I think she's gonna win. After all, she bought her tutorial question on our family vacation and did EVERY SINGLE ONE of them.
5>after I gave mom the lecture about the benefits of contact lenses, mom bought a huge box of contact lenses....for my sis!