Down and Out.
What a way to end the semester. Somebody please, make me feel better and give me an award for Shittiest Luck Ever, quick.
I told you, it’s gonna be a shitty shitty year for me and I have been proven right AGAIN.
This past week, I have been reduced to a big blob of hot mass in bed. Hmm. (That doesn’t sound quite right; that sounds quite sexy actually but that’s not my intent.) What I mean is, I have been down with fever so bad, I couldn’t get up. The flu bug is one of the worst I’ve ever had, and it rendered me useless for almost a week.
A family gathering on Sunday was when the Bug got to infect me and Ooyah. A few hours after the gathering, my throat started to act up, and that is a clear sign that a full-blown sickness is in my system. Great. I had three papers last week, from Tuesday to Thursday. Which was a good thing I had prepared the previous weeks or else…
I was still alright for my first paper, still nursing a sore throat, and on wednesday, I was already running a temperature and feeling groggy. Ooyah the poor baby had it much worse, with vomitting at night (due to the phlegm), diarrhoea and low-grade fever. Needless to say she was cranky and irritable. She woke up many times every night, which provided me with some distraction from the endless late-night studying. It didn’t help, of course, that I had the flu as well, so even though she contracted the bug first, I suppose getting better was an uphill task for her as she was constantly exposed to my bug as well. (I don’t quite believe the doctors when they say that the flu strain that we both got are probably the same thing so there is no risk of reinfection yadaa yadaa yadaa…)
The peak of the virus got me on Wednesday night, which was a few hours before the next paper. At 10.30pm, my temperature had risen to nearly 41 degrees (my head felt like it contained hot lava and would explode any second) and I was delirious. Delirious enough to be sobbing like a baby and talking nonsense.
I called my friend kak kin that night, crying hysterically and telling her that there is a possibility that I might not be able to make it for the paper the next day (!!!) and worried like hell about what would happen from then on. A few lecturers were contacted, thanks to her help, and basically, I was advised to NOT sit for the paper and take it the next semester (!!!), rather than not being able to THINK and failing it.
Taking it the next semester was out of the question for me. No way. I had to get my ass to the exam hall in less than 12 hours, whether or not I was fit for it. There was no way in hell that I would WAIT FOR THE NEXT SEMESTER, i.e NOT GRADUATE this semester. I know that failure to do well in this paper would most definitely affect my GPA, but the other option was just not feasible on my terms. I had to let this one go; leave it to fate, and depend on whatever revision I had done for the paper. I had to work with a brain and body that was weary from being sick, but I just HAD TO, there was no other way to it.
A trip in the middle of the night to the A&E and a jab later did it. The only concern for me was to be able to get the fever down and get to the exam hall.
This is the first time ever, in the history of my life, that I did not do ANY READING/STUDYING the night before a paper. I depended solely on the very few revisions on the subject almost 2 weeks before, and a few minutes to the exam, refreshed my mind based on the beautiful mindmap painstakingly prepared by a dear friend. It helped me tremendously; I was able to (I think) write as much as I would if I weren’t ill and answer all questions coherently (or so I think). I’m sure I would have done better if I had the STRENGTH to stay up the night before, but I was thankful enough for being given the strength of body and mind to pull through the 2 1/2 hours in the cold exam hall.
I keep on telling myself, how lucky I am that this happened the night before a paper that depended mostly on knowledge of the Malay cultural practices; case studies on each topics are required of us, and experience comes in handy. I was lucky that it was not a paper that was heavy on technicalities and definitions, or theories and arguments. I was lucky in that sense. And I was indeed lucky to have my closest friends give me the encouragement and support that I need, telling me that I can pull through this, providing me with notes, giving me last-minute revision notes, informing the lecturers of my condition and most importantly, being there for me when I needed them the most. Thanks babes…you know who you are. I owe you two big time.
I am currently still suffering from the after-effects of the bad infection; still running a low-grade fever once the medication wears off, coughing like a sick horse, and the waterworks are still running. With one more paper to go this Wednesday, I am going slowwwwwly…. but I tell myself, slow and steady wins the race… Ooyah is also getting better, no more vomitting in the middle of the night, and we just have to do constant checks on her temperature and tend to her demands of ‘elmo, elmo, elmo, elmooooo!!!!’ most of the time. It is amusing of course to see her still care for her ‘baby’ more passionately, actually. Lately, she’s taking on the role of ‘Mama’ to her baby doll whom she pushes around in the toy pram, ‘feeding’ the doll milk from her bottle, patting the ‘bibby’ to sleep, telling us to ’shhhh!’ when her baby is ‘falling asleep’ and of course, the husband has to do his part as well as ‘grandfather’ to play with her ‘bibby’ (i.e spin the doll on it’s head ala breakdance, throwing it in the air and catching it; failure to catch the ‘bibby’ and dropping it instead will warrant a full-blown scream and dramatic crying from the doll’s ‘Mama’.)
I shall repeat, my teaching career will ‘take off’ this FRIDAY, right after the Labour Day holiday. I am looking forward to shopping for clothes and shoes and the list goes on…so I’d better get this last paper over and done with, and PREPARE MYSELF physically and mentally for the next lap….
Oh boy. I can hardly wait.
Inspire. Be a teacher.
I cannot say it enough, how I cannot wait for my LAST exams to be over. It’s pretty much like cutting a gangrened leg off, rather than let it hang to rot. As usual, sleepless nights are a requirement, being born with a brain that works best at night. Okay maybe not best. It’s just… not as dormant as it is in the daytime. 
After nearly two weeks of visiting my fave library, leaving only when the closing announcements come on (nearly 9pm), I am pretty much tired. I am tired of sitting down, though standing doesn’t do much good to my knees either. Lying down is of course, ideal for me. I am tired of thinking, tired of scribbling in the air, points that, at the end of the day, do not make much sense to me even though I can recite it. I am tired of writing and writing and writing points that I have memorized and ‘understood’, but my mind works faster than I can write, so my left hand has been working out at sonic speed these days (and has gotten a bit muscular here). Typing out my points as I remember them would be good, but you know what happens when I get my hands on a computer keyboard…yes… THIS. (surfing and blogging)
I am tired. Of studying.
I told Husband just now, how I cannot wait to teach (I know I will bitchslap myself in the face for saying this). No more sleeping at 3am, hunny. No more worrying about exams, no more reading and reading and reading. Reading is not much fun when you’re being tested on it.
BUT on the other hand,
No more “Oh wow, I overslept. Lecture started lah. Hmm. What shall I do?” (pulls up covers to think and suddenly, it’s tomorrow). No more going to school at 11pm. No more student-like behaviours *read: not accountable for anything*. No more saying to your colleague, “eh, aku malas ah hari ni…pas ni kita gi orchard nak?” 15 minutes through our first lecture of the day. (’student’ what, so hang at orchard lah, what else…)
Sigh. The perks of being at the student-end of the education spectrum.
Ah well. You can’t have it all. But for now, I say, I WANNA TEACH TEACH TEACH!!! Bring on the incessant blabberings in essays! Bring on the bad disciplinary problems! Bring on the lesson observations!
I wanna be on the teacher-end of the education spectrum, PLEASE!
Because I spent so much time cramming Malay words in my head, I decided to take a break on Saturday (albeit feeling guilty and calculative about how much more I could have squeezed in during the hours I would be out). I was still studying in the daytime, but at night I went to a bbq at aloha loyang chalet. My cousin’s daughter had a birthday party there, so, I thought, why not gorge on bbq-ed food and gassy drinks. I needed it. The smoky atmosphere. The smell of burnt food. The screams of excited kids (basically just Ooyah). We reached home at about 1, and I totally regretted it of course. I was dead beat.
But of course I dragged myself to the study room, and continued at it. Yeah. STUDYING. *grunt*
This week I’d be sitting for 3 papers, 1 more than my peers (because of some glitch in the freaking system, and guess who had to pay the painful price?) but I know there are people out there who are sitting for more papers than I am, so I’m in no place to complain. Next wed I will sit for MY LAST EVER EXAMINATION PAPER, and I cannot wait.
In fact, I will have ANOTHER bbq this saturday, thanks to Jeri and Geet, and I’m really thinking of barbecuing my notes as well. I can’t wait to be rid of them.
On a lighter note, my classmates who are going to be out for Practicum got their posting results today, and and and ONE of them got posted to MY SCHOOL. *smile!*
What this means for me:
Since the practicum school is MOST LIKELY the school you’re going to end up in (for the rest of your life MUAHAHAHAHAHAH), I take it that my classmate will be posted there FOR GOOD. Which means, if I’m posted there as well, there would be THREE of us, and that is WAYYYY to extravagant for a school like mine (small malay population). WHICH MEANS,
*drumroll please*
I MAY NOT BE POSTED BACK THERE. MUAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA.
To the classmate who is posted there, don’t worry. The school is okay. It’s just ME. I need a different working environment lah. It’s not you, school, it’s me. *evil smile*
So TAKE ME, Placement Unit, I am at your mercy…post me, post me to a neighbourhood school in Jurong (don’t go further ok, not choa chu kang and beyond for me!)
BUT i know, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. You know it, I know it, we all know it; shitty luck is my middle name. There is, STILL, a possibility that…shit happens.
As soon as the clock strikes 8.30am later, I shall make a call to Staff Placement Unit and see how my luck goes. Keep your fingers crossed, people.
EXCEPT YOU, classmate who’s posted there. 
Orang Kita…
Amidst mugging for the exams and anticipating news from The Ministry about my posting, I received a call from a certain somebody. The call got me totally flustered and bothered; but being the (sometimes) sane person that I am, I responded to ridiculous questions in a civil manner, with snide remarks slotted in between laughter, hoping to get my message across.
Upon retrospect, I should have answered those beguiling questions like this.
I know the person who disturbed me with that call would probably read this, so here’s what I didn’t say. I really don’t give a damn what you think about all that I am saying, because you ruined my day; you pissed me off. you prove to me how incapable and irresponsible you are, and how the education you received, 1st class honours or whatever the hell it is, is a big joke to me.
Qn: Your posting will be out soon, right, are you ready to come back here?
Ans: I am studying for my EXAMS right now, so what makes you think I’ll be posted there?
Alt. ans: Is it any of YOUR FREAKING BUSINESS????
Qn: Please come back here, there is a vacancy for you.
Ans: It is not my choice. I actually DO NOT want to get posted there; I want a different working environment (which preferably does not contain YOU)
Alt ans: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU to ask me to go back there?????
Qn: Please, please come back here?
Ans: I leave it all to fate, if I get posted there, I take it my rezeki is there. If not, ALL THE BETTER.
Alt ans: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Qn: There’s a really high chance that you’ll come back here *laughing cynically* Do you know you can actually REQUEST to be posted back here? Requestlah, so you’ll come back here, CONFIRM!!!
Ans: NO WAY in hell.
Alt. ans: I really really want to slap your face NOW. CONFIRMM!!!!
Qn: When you come back here, I hope you can resume your duty as subject coordinator; I have been arrowed to take that post because there is no one else and I refuse to undertake that responsibility (so will you please save my ass and be the SCAPEGOAT?)
Ans: Why should I do it when YOU are paid more than me? 1st class honours from UM what, dean’s list what, I’m not even sure I can get 1st class honours from my university since it’s standards are so high, no one in this programme has attained 1st class. So you are PAID MORE, you have MORE EXPERIENCE, so YOU DO IT.
Alt. Ans: You’re given a post, and you take it. BE RESPONSIBLE. I AM NOT A FREAKING SCAPEGOAT, and if YOU THINK the job is shit (it makes you want to cry talking about it) what makes you think I’m stupid enough to sacrifice my ass for you??!!!
Qn: No no, YOU have more experience than me. My 11 years in Primary school doesn’t count. I’ve only been here 2 years, while you’ve been here for 4. Please come back?
Alt. Ans: So what the hell were you doing THOSE 11 YEARS in pri school? Hentak kaki isit? Never do anything is it? SLACKKKKKKK all the way ke?
Qn: Don’t worry, if you don’t want to take the post because you will not be paid extra, you can be the Subject Head for PD, they’re offering a few of us that post; you have the potential to take it, so you can get paid extra AND be Subject coordinator for Malay too. Do you want it? I’ll gladly give it to you.
Ans: Eh, you pandai2 nak offer i this post, that post, you ni siapa? you kan teacher je? bukan HOD, bukan Principal?! Let them decidelah!
Alt ans: I refuse to listen to all this CRAP you’re spouting, and, I ask you again, WHO THE FOOK are you to promise me all this shite?!!!!
Qn: If you become subject coordinator I will give you all the help I can, I promise. I mean, you and I, im sure we can work together, not like with the last subject coord who took your post (who has now fled the scene), I can’t work with her. Please?
Alt. Ans: So that if anything goes wrong, at the end of the day, it is MY ASS ON THE LINE, right? You clever, I stupid lah, like that issit? You think I stoopid issit????!!!! DAMN YOU!
Qn: I’ve been in and out of the P’s office countless times, and turning them down repeatedly, I told them ‘LINA’S COMING BACK SOON! LET HER TAKE THE POST!’ So will you?
Ans: What makes you so sure ni I balik sana? And if YOU can back out from the offer, what makes you think they can FORCE ME to take it? And in the first place, it is RIDICULOUS LAH talking about this. AS IF they will offer me the post. AND if they do, i won’t STUPIDLY take something YOU REJECTED.
Alt Ans: DAMN YOU DAMN YOU DAMN YOU!!!!! *at this point I really wanted to slam down the phone but thinking how this phone is SO NOT WORTH the damage, I continued listening to her stupid pleas.*
To YOU:
I think it looks really bad for your record that you’re turning down the offer, because it shows the management that you are not reliable and irresponsible, otherwise you would probably be getting A’s or B’s, not C’s for your performance grading. I think if you do not have any aspirations for the job, that you want to remain as an ORDINARY TEACHER without any duties or responsibilities, you should really consider quitting your job, and not be a care-free colleague who just wants to get your three thousand dollars on the 12th of every month and MAKAN GAJI BUTA, while you expect others, like me, to do the dirty job for you. When I was given that post, and i worked enough to earn my keep. Gaji halal. Kalau nak dapat gaji, tapi tak mahu kerja, duit yang diberi makan anak-pinak tu duit apa??? And you have the cheek to say that if I get in there, there’s a chance for you to quit and get out. You gleefully say that, like THAT’S A JOKE. You think I’m as stupid, right, to do the job that was given to you? You think I pak sanggup? mak andeh?
I see you as the classic case of orang kita, yes, orang kita? Kalau kerja lebih mengeluh, tak rela, nak nangis, nak mati, tapi kalau nak dapat nama, tikam belakang orang nombor 1. Kalau dapat gaji nak banyak beribu-ribu, berkoyan-koyan, tapi kalau suruh kerja, cabut lari dulu.
Tulah orang kita.
Masa aku berpangkat, ada orang kita yang tak puas hati, mati-matian nak ambil alih, terkial-kial nak naik pangkat, main kotor, hasad dengki, tohmah caci; tapi tak kesampaian jugak; pihak atasan tak bodohlah, dorang tahu mana kaca mana permata. Bila aku dah blah, akhirnya management pun takde pilihan, kasi lah orang kita tu post aku. dah dapat pangkat, HOORAYYY!!!! berjaya jugak akhirnya. tapi…dah masuk berapa bulan, orang kita tu TAK SANGGUP PULAK memikul beban tanggungjawab yang dia mati-matian nak rebut. KERJA BANYAK. GAJI SIKIT. Lepas tu mati-matian nak keluar. Akhirnya berjaya jugak keluar. Alamak…. SAHHHLAH TUUU, orang kita kan?
Sekarang kau pulak yang kena jadi ketua? Rasa-rasanya kerana mgmt takde pilihanlah, bukan kerana kelayakan. Kalau sikap macam gini, sudahlah. Pi balik kampung tanam jagung sua.
Yang satu, mati-mati nak buat kerja. Yang satu pulak, mati-mati tak mau buat kerja.
Dah sajaklah korang dua orang.
_______________________________________
That call made me dread going back to the school even more; the thought of having to work with a colleague who has got cold-feet and will back out any moment just turns me off. If there is anything I detest most, it is a LAZY person who, at the end of the day, claim the work to be their own. I’ve come across many such people, in my studying stint, at work, and i really don’t care if it doesn’t affect my well-being. But when they step on my toes LIKE THIS, don’t think i’ll keep mum.
I really hope you’re reading this, because I want you to know that I am not a fool; even if I get posted back there and have the misfortune of working with you, I want to get the point across that I’m not a yes-man. I am not your scapegoat. And most importantly, I am not your friend. I don’t need friends who are quick to get me into trouble, to sabotage me, the way you did.
I really do hope I’m posted elsewhere, and even though IT IS NONE OF YOUR FREAKING BUSINESS, I have requested to be posted out. Now it’s just a matter of wait, and see.
Rage against The Library
You already know, because I’ve said it countless times, how My Library is THE hottest make out spot in all of Jurong. I’ve already given up on being bothered by seeing secondary school kids (jurong, boon lay, huayi, fuhua, you name the west side sec school, the library’s got ‘em all) regardless of race, language or religion, they all come here in pairs, holding hands, looking for a nice corner, never mind that it’s not discreet, grab a book, and fondle each other till their parents sms them to come home. And when asked where they are, they’d reply ‘LIBRARY’. Technically they ARE telling the truth, you know. And can you imagine the pride ballooning in their parents’ chests to know, that their teenager is in THE LIBRARY, not a gaming arcade?
And you already know that the librarians here do not give a hoot about the rampant and blatant lusty pursuits of these teens. I’ve given up being affected by the sight of 15-year olds, the girl sitting on the guy’s palm, and no, he’s not warming up his frostbitten palm.
But today, I’ve had the last straw. I was sitting in the Quiet Reading Room, doing, yes- Quiet Reading- and outside the glass-walled enclosure, everyone could see, in the opposite corner of the library, a couple doing research on the human anatomy. In front of them, sitting along an aisle of books, were another couple pretending to read, but of course they were not. They were…er…helping each other suck out the venom that Dracula left on their necks so that they don’t turn into vampires themselves.
I can’t be the morality police, I thought, and everyone else seemed to be enjoying the show. Good thing the kids section is on another floor (not that there aren’t any lusty teens there either). I minded my own business; a long time ago I alerted a librarian about a couple of kids getting down and dirty in the stairwell, and was given the look of ‘THANKS for giving me WORK to do’, so I give up.
Suddenly I saw a librarian, doing her rounds, to see who’s violating the no-handphones, no eating/ drinking rule, and I actually sat up to see what would happen when she gets to the horny kids. As she approached every group of kids, and ordering them to ‘don’t do this’ or ‘don’t do that’ I saw the kids practically hiding away prohibited stuff (bubble tea drinks and stinky packets of food, amongst others). And finally, she got to the book aisles….
She peered at the couple leaning against the bookshelf, and told them something. They sat up and started to pack their stuff. Then, she peered to the aisle behind them, saw the couple, arms wrapped around each other, heads together (I saw all of this from my side of the room), and…
she walked away.
They didn’t even notice that she was coming, or that she looked, or that she left. I suppose the previous couple who scrambled away, must have been told not to lean on the bookshelves or something like that, nothing about them making out.
I was utterly disappointed. I thought it was pretty much the same feeling Ramli had when watching the Arsenal-ManU match on Sunday. Yeah, it was the same feeling. But I got over it.
Then the librarian walked towards the room i was in. She went to everyone who’s in here, quietly reading (no teenagers here, thank god.) She told someone to put his feet off the armchair. Okay, fair enough. Then THE ultimate piss-off of the decade occured. To me.
She approached me, and I’m sure ME being the only Malay in the room didn’t help at all. I was reading my revision notes, and she stopped in front of me and said in a stern, ’step-garang’ way:
‘No drinks in this room, okay’ and she pointed to the sign on the wall.
It was a freaking bottle of ICE MOUNTAIN MINERAL WATER bought from inside the library, for heaven’s sake.
So that was IT.
‘This is JUST mineral water. Everyone here has a bottle, see? Some even have coke or 100 plus. (pointing to the rest of the people here.
She pointed to the sign and said ‘Tak boleh. Tengok sign tu’ talking to me like im a fool. Ohhhh you are SOOOO asking for it, makcik…
I raised my voice, making sure I’D be talking to her like the fool that she truly is. If she didn’t talk to me in a condescending tone I would have been milder.
‘Oh, sayang eh, sign tu tak tulis, No Having Sex or No Romen-Romen’ ['Oh what a pity the sign doesn't say No Having Sex or No Making Out]
(She’s a makcik librarian and I’m PRETTY SURE she doesn’t know that MAKING OUT doesn’t actually mean ‘Buat di Luar’. She looked at me angrily but I didn’t wait for a comeback. Not that it would be good.
‘Saya bawak botol mineral water kat sini tak boleh, eh? Tapi kat hujung tu, budak sekolah cium-cium, raba-raba, makcik biarkan. Takut ke nak cakap dengan dorang? Ni library ke, park? (‘It’s not okay for me to bring a bottle of mineral water in here, but it’s perfectly alright for schoolkids to kiss and fondle in that corner? Are you scared of them? Is this a library or a park?’)
Of course, by this time, all 8 people in the room were looking at us.
‘Itu hal lain, sekarang saya cuma cakap awak tak boleh bawak air minum kat sini’ (That’s another issue, I’m just saying that you can’t bring drinks in here’)
‘Ye ke? Habis kalau saya terbatuk-batuk, tekak sakit, nak minum air macam mana? Batuk jelah kuat-kuat eh, biar ganggu orang? Ni kan quiet reading room, mana boleh batuk? Tak taruk kat sign tu, ‘No coughing’ ke, No sneezing ke? tapi kalau romen-romen boleeehhhhh, library sukaaaaaa kalau budak-budak buat maksiat kat sini’. (Are you sure? What if I get into a coughing fit, need to drink, how then? Do i just cough as much as I want? Why don’t you put on that sign, no coughing, no sneezing? But making out, is perfectly allowed and encouraged.)
Before she could answer, i asked her, ‘what’s your name?’ looking at her badge and picking up my pen. She hesitantly, with a fook-face of course, showed me her badge. I took it down. Siappp kau.
‘I saw you did nothing when you passed by the kissing kids, and you dare to tell me off for this bottle of plain water? I’ll check with your director about this. If you want this bottle of mineral water so badly you can take it.’ (I said this in English, for the benefit of the spectators who were also GUILTY of having water bottles)
She knew she’s lost, so she just glared at me and walked off, mumbling something (and she’s LUCKY I can’t hear what it is, or ELSE…)
Then this lady beside me said to me, ‘Mineral water should be okay what, hor, who say cannot? This library ahhh, terrible one.’
Hey at least I’ve got a supporter.
I immediately wrote and emailed to the NLB corporate office, and Quality Service Manager about the incident. I don’t know about the librarians in other libraries, but the ones here are TOTAL SLACKERS who do NOTHING ELSE but sit at the library cafe and eat the pratas.
But did I stop there? Of course not. Like they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I was fired up with rage over the incident. I marched over to the gross-looking couple, barely 15, smelling like school, and hissed at them (no talking loudly mahh, library what.)
“YOU’D BETTER STOP your hanky-panky RIGHT NOW, I’m calling your principal Mr _______, and sending him your picture! (I did a quick check on the website of their school before I marched up to them, heeheehehe thank god for wireless@sg) Go to a PARK if you’re THAT DESPERATE!!!!”
To which they picked up their things hurriedly and scampered off like roaches. NOTHING strikes fear in the hearts of pupils than the word PRINCIPAL, eh?
I suddenly shuddered at how teacherly I’ve become. Is this practice for me, now that my studying stint is coming to an end? I remember being like this the last time I was a discipline teacher in my school.
Haha. I know. *giggles* Hey I WAS quite frightening okay, and there ARE a few hate blogs out there by naughty kids who have been reprimanded by me okay, and I’m proud of it. (I even have a nickname the students use among themselves that squeezed out of my Informers. And it’s a cute nickname hehe. I like it.)
ANYWAY, I do digress.
I suppose librarians have plenty more things to do than policing in the library (or ensuring that the prata stall makes a profit) and I suppose (HOPE!) that they have probably given up on checking up on making-out kids. There’s just too many of them, I know. But the LEAST that I expect from librarians when they are doing their (once-a-day?) rounds is to STOP these kids from going at it when they are spotted, not just, LEAVE THEM BE. This is a public place, meant for reading, studying, meant for KIDS like Ooyah to flip through colourful books and go WAHHHH!!!!! , meant for students like me to have some quiet time to STUDY, meant for everyone (apeks included) to have access to the (crummy) books with a wealth of knowledge (and toto/4D results), at NO COST.
I’m perfectly alright if i see teens making out in…buses, or cinemas, or…mcdonalds, I’m quite liberal (emphatic? hehehehe), I must say (PLEASE, good people, remind me to delete this line when Ooyah learns how to read) but THE LIBRARY? It’s like… making out in… a mosque, maybe? Almost sacrilege, lah…
All this talk and anger is making me thirsty. But wait-
Did she REALLY take my mineral water bottle away?
What you can do in three years.
Three. Years.
Not one.
That was the ban slapped on my pathetic face, which was all in vain. So much for my pathetic story which got the interview officer at ICA exclaiming ‘Masyaallah!’, so much for my remorseful, remorseful face, so much for bringing in the Pembuang Passport who had been trained to raise her hand and say ‘ME!’ when asked ‘Who threw the passports?’
I was mentally prepared to be told one year. And I was even prepared to turn the table around, slam hard on the desk, and scream profanities at the officer and her employer WKS (who let loose Mass Lamat, mind you) for having the nerve to suggest something like that. To ME. Who did they think I was? Someone out to make a quick buck by selling my passport to foreign workers???
My mom told me not to tell the truth, that it was such a lame idea.
“you tell them Sarah threw it, it is STILL YOU who was negligent you know”
To which I told her plainly,
“So you want me to tell them that my house was burned down to the ground or what? Is that more credible?”
Of course she pooh-poohed the whole thing and chided me for saying such baaaad things.
“You and your mouth ah. Celupar ah. Come up with a better reason.”
“You mean, a better lie.”
“Ya.”
So after thinking of a better lie, to make it look like it was not my fault, I did come up with a few things like:
- someone pickpocketed my bag and I only know of it recently, and how did I know I was pickpocketed, I saw hand marks on my patent bag (which has now disappeared, in case they want to scan it for fingerprints)
- someone used a galah to jolok through my window and fished out the two passports (they don’t have to know I don’t live in a corridor unit, ‘aight.)
- someone hypnotised me on the streets with a magical stone and before I knew it, I handed my passports over to that person
Damn, I really should have just reported it as stolen. Cos the officer DID say, after I told her the PLAIN truth of course, that if it’s STOLEN, it’s a different story. I could still get a passport *bangs head on spiked wall*
…All that I had planned to say if told that I will be banned for ONE year, which were:
1) PLEASE LAH, you think i sell the passport ijjit? $220 beb nak buat baru, tak balik modal siakkkkk!!!!
2) PLEASE LAH, I civil servant okay! And not just a normal civil servant like, like..like YOU tau, I teacher okay, honourable, got dignity one, sell passport for what?! Worse to worse I sell my xbox or what lah, sell passport for what?!
3) PLEASE LAH, I’m not very lucky one lah ok, you want me to mandi bunga 7 jenis or what? Or mandi air tolak bala, that one syirik oreadi you know, akak! This is takdir you know, takdir, you ada faham tak? *bangs table*
…all fizzled in my brain. I was too stunned for words.
When I heard the ‘THREE YEAR DEFINITE BAN’ cursed words uttered by the expressionless officer, my eyes welled up and I felt this sickening knot of disgust churning my insides. A barrage of questions filled my mind, WHY did my mom not look deeper into her drawer the first time I reported it lost (2002), only to find it as soon as I got the replacement???? WHY did the blardddddy JB immigration officer take MY passport, MY MY MY passport when there were 6 others to choose from??? WHY did Ooyah throw MY passport out, and not my handphone? Or my Burb? Or my LAPTOP for that matter ???? (okay I guess if she was strong enough to lift it, she would have), BUT STILLL- WHYYYY OOYAH, WHYYYY??????
Then I looked at her, the Pembuang Passport, looking at me with the sweetest smile and she said,
Ma-maaaa??? In a ‘what’s wrong?’ kinda way.
Alamak nak kena smackkkkk ah budak ni. Nasib baik sweet and cute.
Then the officer told me, seeing how distraught I was. (but no, I didn’t cry ok. Tears welled, but I didn’t cry.)
There is no way, no way in hell that I can be issued a FOURTH passport, and she said I was indeed lucky that I didn’t get banned the last time I applied. *nak kena smack ah itu officer* The cardinal rule that I broke, was, that I cannot lose that last passport for the next 2-3 years. I SO broke that rule with a bang, having lost it 3 MONTHS after it was issued. Nasib macam kentangggg siak.
Of course, my mom had to rub it in and say, “Hey, you’re gonna get your passport the year we move into our new teban flats!”
Wow. That’s a longggg time.
So what can I do in three years?
- I can already sell my place and move into that nice unit in Lakeside, and still have one year left to wait, but it’s okay, I will probably be busy doing up the place and swimming in the pool and working the treadmills in the gym (I do fantasize)
- I can get pregnant again, and Ooyah’s sister/brother will be…2 years old before she/he can smell the whiff of JB,
- And Ooyah, for that matter, will be, ALMOST FIVE years old, going to school, with a distant and blurred memory of eating Nando’s chicken,
- I can decide to pursue a master’s degree (why the hell not since I will have A LOT OF TIME NOT QUEUEING AT C’WAY or 2ND LINK or WAITING FOR POSTPONED FLIGHTS, innit?) and actually complete it in time for my FIRST EVER HOLIDAY after the ‘dark ages’ of my life….
Wanna add to my list while I intoxicate myself by inhaling minyak kapak?
I Miss Singapore. Don’t you?
Barely four months ago, this happened. I remember it so vividly; it was the night before the new school term started for me. Stuck in JB with THE vital travel document MISSING. Panic, fear, anger, and no doubt, mystery surrounded the whole fiasco, and until today, we never figured out what happened.
And before we could solve that mystery, I have to go through it all over again.
Yes, dear friends and readers, Fadelinah has lost her passport. AGAIN. This would be her THIRD lost passport. And her SECOND lost passport this year, after receiving her crisp $170 THIRD biometric passport four months ago. FYI only ONE page of the passport has been stamped since it’s been issued to me.
The disappearance of this very expensive and precious passport is as much a mystery as the previous one, although we are quite certain of the culprit of this loss. As usual, the culprit’s father (so much for his almost-anal ‘organization’ tendencies) placed MY passport, and the culprit’s, together, in the drawer of my bedside table. When questioned WHY he didn’t place our passports together with his (in the safety of the top drawer of our cupboard) he was quick to answer that the baby culprit and myself would usually take off to JB without him on his workday, so it’ll be easier to grab just our passports. Whatever.
Much to the delight of the baby culprit, the drawer is within her reach; easy-peasy access. It is her favourite corner of the room, where she could sit for a whole half-hour emptying the contents of the drawer (mainly containing jewellery, notebooks, lotions what-not), drooling all over the treasures, while I vegetate on the bed. On many occasions she would choose an object of fancy and toddle over to her grandparents’ room and offer them her Mama’s belongings). Just last week, I couldn’t find my handphone, but lo and behold, it was found under the many many pillows in her grandparents’ room.
And somehow, the baby culprit has an obsession with passports. If she spots anyone holding a passport, she would demand (read: plead, whine, throw a tantrum) to hold it. Once a passport is in hand, she would meticulously inspect the details of the passport: the picture, the colourful stamps, the emblem on the passport…. but most importantly, the picture, and then explain to us in her baby language about what she thinks of the passport and the picture. Something along the line of, ” You look really awful in the picture, you know that? They really should go easy on the strict no-fringe rule for passport pictures. Cos you look really awful.”
So after ransacking the whole house , and I MEAN WHOLE house (no object left unturned, no box left unopened), the two passports were still not found. While we were frantically looking for the passports, Little Miss Passport-collector sat in the middle of our bed (fearing for her life I’m sure), suddenly ‘reading’ her storybooks with MUCH interest saying ‘Wahhh!’ and ‘Lawa!’ with every page turned, humming a tune, but looking from the corner of her eye surreptitiously every now and then to see the progress of our search. When shown a passport and asked, “Mama punya mana?” (where is Mama’s?) she stared at me, then looked around the room, as if thinking, recalling, and then said, “Mama, ta-de.” (Takde) (“Mama’s, not here”) complete with hand sign. I knew that SHE knew something. We’re just not sure WHAT and HOW she can salvage the situation, that’s all.
And then it occured to me, to look out from the balcony. A line of shrubs and trees line the the whole plot of grass. And on the trees, and the grass around it, were shreds of tissue, shreds of paper (MY writing paper), and a few wooden and plastic blocks. Undeniably thrown out from OUR balcony, by our very own Litterbug. That was when I knew. A foreign worker, in some foreign worker hostel, somewhere in Tuas, is smiling gleefully, pleased with himself/herself for the very valuable find. Not one, but TWO red passports. Wow. So new, barely used. So lucky, to have these two precious documents literally falling from the sky, while he was happily trimming the shrubs/ slotting a gazillion flyers into the mailboxes/ selling illegal otak-otak at the void deck.
Don’t be fooled by my shhweeeeet demeanour.
Who? ME? Guilty? Do I look guilty to you?
Yeah so maybe I’ve let loose a couple of balloons like this one and Mama’s brand new Braun Buffel key pouch out of the balcony. That doesn’t make me GUILTY. Plus I’m cute. Cute and guilty don’t GO together.
Oh you mean…you didn’t know about the keypouch eh, Mama. *gulp*
That’s it. I’m not talking anymore until my lawyer is here. Atokkkk? Pleeeaashhh?
We have given up the search, painfully accepting the harsh reality that the worst has happened. I will suffer the fate of reporting the loss to a police post (again again again), queueing to be interviewed (again again again) and being warned: “The next time you lose your passport, you will get banned from possessing a passport for a year.”
The worst, indeed, has happened. No wonder I was travelling so much the past few months. Only to be grounded in good ‘ol Singapore. For a year, no less.
I have prepared to beg and plead and wail buckets of tears to the ‘kakak officer’ at ICA (it’s always a middle-aged Malay lady who does the interview) and the last one even understood my plight, to the extent of blaming the immigration authorities for the loss. I will come up with a sob story (somewhere along the line of ‘I neeeeeeeeeeeeed to go to JB once a week cos I am medically dependant on Nando’s chicken, or I WILL DIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! PLEAAASSSEEEEE KAKAKKKKKKKK!!!!!!)
And when asked, “How come you’ve lost your passport THREE TIMES?”
I shall plainly answer, “I very suwey lor. What to do.”
But inevitably, I know, laws are laws, and if I am slapped with the ban, what to do. Aku redha.
As always, I WILL look on the bright side. So here’s the ‘brighter’ side, the perks, if I may call it that, of being banned from possessing a passport, i.e GROUNDED:
1) Ooyah was quite the classic nuisance during our last flight back to Singapore; screaming, crying endlessly etc. We did sorta swear not to travel again till she’s much older. (Maybe that swear sorta jinxed me!) So ONE YEAR LATER= she will be nearly three, more manageable, more involved with crayons, and colouring, and doodling…. okay what….
2) My teaching career will begin in May, and because I don’t have a passport, I needn’t have to pester The Authorities In School to approve my leave/ ‘permission to leave Singapore’/ declaration form etc. etc. every holiday or long weeked. I will be duly rewarded for being the most rooted, patriotic and hardworking staff in all of The School. Okay what….
3) And since I will spend my holidays rooted in SG, I will have more time during the month-long holidays to prepare my scheme-of-work *whatever the hell that means*, prepare fun and enriching worksheets for my beloved students, prepare lesson plans for the next two semesters, and and AND prepare exam papers a semester ahead. I need a good headstart in my career, and if staying in Singapore for a whole year will mean I will get promoted extra fast, okay what…
4) The loss of passport will also be beneficial to my physical/ financial and emotional health. No more eating and conquering foodstalls from all over the globe. No more impulse hoards at shopping centres and markets all over the world and being the cause of inflation in third world countries. No more feeling claustraphobic, no more of having to stifle my screams with a toddler doing acrobatic stunts on my lap. No more ‘if-you-have-a-crying-fit-again-my-face-will-explode-in-yours-and-you-will-be-seriously-hurt-from-the-flying-brain-shrapnel’ situations. Phew. I’m GLAD there’s gonna be no more of that for a WHOLE YEAR. Please, ICA, BAN ME.
5) I really hate packing and unpacking, to the extent that I sometimes feel like we should just live out of our luggage bags, disposable undies and 50ml shampoo bottles. It will be easier. The trauma of forgetting to bring this and that, kills me every time. I need a break from THAT.
6) The break from travelling will mean we can save up for a super-duper-around-the-world-in-80-days kinda trip. Yeah. One year’s worth of air tickets, JB-KL shopping sprees, etc. etc. will amount to a mega trip. We can no longer be lured by the temptations that a Good Friday/ Chinese New Year long weekend brings. Don’t travel for one year, so what? Next year, I will get to leave SG for a phenomenal holiday that lasts maybe one. or maybe, TWO months. Long weekends? Naaaaaaah. We don’t go for that anymore. We’ll go far, baybehhh, reallllll far, for a loooooong time. No more tiring 3-day escapades for me, please, count me out.
AND the ultimate best advantage of all for LOSING your passport, and being BANNED from leaving the country (I sorta understand now, how Mass-Lamat feels about not getting to leave the country) is:
7) As a family, we have always overlooked the beauty and splendour that SG holds. We haven’t been on the Flyer, have we? And it’s been a while since we took a ride on the kun-kun ka (cable car, according to Ooyah) that Ooyah yearns to be on; and when was the last time we had a picnic on Siloso Beach? Or East Coast Park? And have we really, as we claim all the time, been to EVERY shopping centre in Singapore? Well I haven’t been to Compass Point, for one. When was the last time we went to Jurong Bird Park, which is just a stone’s throw away from my house. And have we really exhausted our options when eating out? Have we really gone to EVERY (crappy) halal eatery in SG? Well I haven’t been to Han River bbq- must try THAT (crappy) one. AND when was the last time we had a barbeque-holiday at our ‘home-away-from-home’ Aloha chalets? Oh how I MISS exploring dear old Singapore!
Now please excuse me while I bury my face in my pillow and perhaps drown myself in tears/ asphyxiate myself, for thinking about how I’ve neglected Singapore all this while brings on a certain guilt that is too hard to bear.
P.S: Jarrod, we’ll have to postpone our Maldives/ Mauritius trip bound for June, to next June. And our Barcelona trip for December, to next December. Let me enjoy my Singapore first.
P.P.S: Geet, we’re afraid we can’t join you in HK this July although we did check out which hotels we could stay in for that weekend. I’ll probably be in a very comfortable 8-man tent somewhere along Pasir Ris, happily inhaling the sweet scent of barbecued prawns. Please, don’t envy me. Wish you’d be here.
P.P.P.S: Bav, looks like the Washington-Idaho-Las Vegas trip for the end of this year that Ramli and I have been talking about will have to wait till… let’s see… next year? I need to know Singapore inside-out first, so when you return soon, I can show you around to the wonderful places YOU’VE been missing out on all this while. First stop- Haw Par Villa, okay, I will tell you the tale behind every (creepy) statue in that amazing (freaky) garden. Boy, I can’t wait and I’m sorry I’m making you miss SG even more. *flashes THE LUCKY sign to bav*
Yeah. This ‘lucky’ sign. I’m it.
O.G at my favourite library.
My love-hate relationship with My Library will end in, more or less, 2 weeks’ time. As I sit here trying to tie up the loose ends of a few unfinished assignments, I suddenly started to think about- Life after NIE. Then I thought, I’ve been a bit too harsh on this library, eh? I mean, for TWO YEARS, this is the place I run saunter to almost every day to complete my neverending assignments, and I should be thanking my lucky stars that it is so near to my house. Oh so near… what would I have done without it? So as I sauntered over again to the library today, I told myself, I’d better appreciate it while it lasts… soon enough I don’t even see myself entering it anymore. (I have sworn not go to the library with Ooyah without her papa considering the fact that she ran amok, wild, crazy ALL OVER THE LIBRARY, weaving in and out of the many many aisles, flinging books out of bookshelves and pestering kids who were (pretending) to read….making MEEEEE run like a mad woman as well, stifling my screams of “OOYAHHH COME BACK HERE YOU…..!!!!!”)
Speaking of MAD…
I started out the day (well, the Noon actually) with a brunch at the very crowded library cafe, with a microwave-heated nasi lemak and an iced tea. The name nasi lemak is a misnomer for this one, cos the rice really tasted like plain white rice. Then I proceeded to the study area. The usual familiar (geeky) faces I see almost everyday.
After finishing one assignment, the sky turned from day to night. And it was only three. I sat by the window and had a good view of jurong point, a good view of the new interchange which is under construction, and watched the rain pelting heavily on the glass. It’s such a nice feeling, to watch the rain (and people scurrying for shelter!)
And that was when I thought, it’d be nice to have a nice hot cup of kopi, and a tau sar pau, and a chicken char siew pau from the library cafe.
And that too, was the same idea everyone in the library had when it started to rain because the WHOLE PLACE was full of suddenly-hungry bookworms. Finally I got a whole table to myself, and found myself looking at a man who was seated in front of me. He was talking to himself, and laughing to himself (quietly), and shaking his head while he talked. Confirm, must be another O.G. (orang gila), I thought.
And then his murtabak was delivered to him, and my attention was diverted to it. As I stared longingly at the smoking-hot murtabak, and wondering “Why the hell didn’t I order THAT?”, I didn’t realize that it might have seemed as if I was staring at him. And suddenly……he spoke.
O.G: Hallo? (waving his hand)
Me: Huh?
O.G: Why you look at me?
Me: No, I look at your murtabak. (panic like hell already)
O.G: Ha ha ha…don’t lie, I know you look at me.
Me: (blabbering incoherent words)
O.G: Ha ha ha… joking only lah.
And then, he started to gather his things, and his food on the table, and said:
O.G: I join you, I join you, you can share ah, with me.
Me: (hyperventilating, makkkkauuu mampossss akuuu!!!!) No no no thanks, I have to go already.
O.G: So fast ah? Share lah….Ha ha ha ha (his laugh is really loud and frightening.)
So I stumbled past the crowd in the cafe, abandoning my coffee and pau. I turned to look at him when I was out of the cafe and he was shaking his head, and laughing, and STILL talking to himself. Gila siak.
Looks like this guy has been hanging out in the library by himself for far too long. I’d better get my ass outta here before I become like him. Ha ha ha ha (O.G style).
