Week 12

Damn hungry.

Home Court.

4 apartment blocks, 1 swimming pool, 1 surau, 2 basketball courts. One of the courts is always occupied by some Indian Under-12 professional footballers, where there is no clear goal line and boots are not needed. The other court is one rim short. The halfcourt with a rim is what I’d like to call– home court.

I was there almost every evening for a few years after I stopped training at school. It’s a really ugly court though. The free throw line can barely be seen now, the wooden backboard shakes like it’s earthquake every time you hit a bank shot, and of course, no net.

We had a group of people who would come here most of the evenings, and we’d play till sundown. I was the youngest amongst them. Naturally I was always the one being bullied, and took every jumpshot I could get. Talk about playing with fucking giants. It was there that I really learned how to shoot better because I had no chance of getting to the basket.  They’d tease me by calling me “Shooter” or “神射手” all the time. I thought they meant it. Thinking back, a lot of them shoot better than me, I was called the names only because I was always afraid of going for layups.

After every session, we would sit on the court and chill for a bit. They would smoke a bit and talk about their online games, somehow they can’t get enough of the games. I’d sit and listen for a while, and after I had enough of the mosquitoes, I walked back home. I’d call it a great day if I played great and won some games. Simple as that.

Even on days that the guys didn’t come, I would go down to the court and shoot some hoops myself. When you have a bad day, it’s good to know that at least you could still hit a few jumpshots, and at the end of the day that keeps you sane…anchored. On days when it’s just me, some boys from the neighbourhood would come and shoot with me. Sometimes I’d even play pickup games with them, and they’d score all over me. I guess they call it a great day when they make shots over me.

One of those days I stopped going to my “home court” and started playing at school again. I forgot why. After I went to Singapore, it’s been a year or two since I played at my home court.

Today I just picked up the ball and went down to my home court. The Indian kids were still playing soccer on one of the courts. The rim had gotten weaker, and still no net of course. I was all by myself until a guy came onto the court.

“Remember me?” he said.

Took me a few seconds to figure out who he is. He was one of the kids from the neighbourhood who used to mess around here. I didn’t like it when adults told you how much taller you’ve grown since the last time they saw you. But boy was he been getting tall or wut.

“Do YZ and the guys still come here?” I asked.

YZ was one of the guys who was responsible for my shot-first instinct.

“Nah…haven’t seen them in a while.” he answered. Then he left.

There I was, expecting to play some hardcore pickup games with the guys to relive this once merry battleground, and ended up making layups that I’ve been practicing for a while, on my own.

“Salty Water Chicken” was the name of the saltiest dish of the night. The “Siamese Pork Leg” was very well cooked and the fish was subpar. Big feast and some awkward chatter were highlights of their night. It’s Mother’s Day, the mothers ought to have their dinner duties relived, albeit just one night where children feel obligated to treat their own mother nicely. There were lots of mothers in the restaurant. Some called the waitress over to seal some remaining dishes they couldn’t finish to take home, or “dabao” to be exact. Everyone fought for the bill when it was handed to the table, because paying for the meal is the cool thing to do. Happy night ended with some desserts.

Sally and her daughter had a great late dinner together. They don’t usually have dinner around dinner time, they’re used to having it late. Sally’s daughter is a smart and hardworking girl. A daughter who helps at home and does well in school is all that Sally hoped for. In fact it’s all that she has. That is what keeps Sally going and motivates her at work. Even having her shift on Mother’s Day evening was fine by her because she knew she gets to dabao the extra leftovers caused by customers’ overorders on these occasions. Sally’s daughter couldn’t hope for more than her favorite “Siamese Pork Leg”, and Sally couldn’t be happier bitching to her daughter about some annoying mothers.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Underneath the cupboard drawer.

At the airport.

He used to think that the airport is a beautiful place. People get suited up, go to the airport, and fly to wherever they wanna go. And the plane, it's such a beautiful vehicle. He used to wear his nicest clothes and gears just to look nice on the plane. The view from up there is so mesmerizing. Everything looked so small, your house, your city, your favorite mall. He felt weightless flying, nothing holding him back.

Today he looked casual. He looked as though he's a frequent flyer, walking around and going through the procedures like a boss. Didn't even bother to send cheesy goodbye text messages. The Internet makes goodbye text messages seem phony.

He had some coffee with his parents at McDonalds before taking off. They didn't really talk much; they're not that type. He just sat there, quietly. He didn't smile much today. He was just sitting there, into his own world of thoughts.

#

I guess he's a little bit different now. He used to be the kind of guy who makes all the sick jokes and laughs out loud all the time. He was always busy with stuff. He was never lonely. Now he still got the same funny bones, but his laughs were not so...real anymore. I don't think he's having fun.

I remember him talking about this key...the key to his cupboard drawer. I forgot what did he keep inside. It was something important i reckon, a bulk of letters I think. He was so upset that the key is gone. I guess he just left it at his dorm. He was so sad that day that he couldn't do anything, just hiding in his room listening to Mayday.

It was supposed to be a happy trip back home for him. He had been waiting for this one-month holiday for so long. All the food, places, people that he missed so much, although he never said it. As soon as he's back, he did all his usual routines that he would do back then. It wasn't very hard to adjust to his former lifestyle, he loved it. But something was missing. He didn't wanna admit it, but something's definitely missing.

On the morning of the day of his flight back to study-land, his face was as stiff as Kirsten Stewart. He didn't talk much. But he did something else instead of packing his luggage. He used all kinds of needles and pins to try to crack open his cupboard drawer. He was so desperate. When everything didn't work, he just hammered it forcefully. And then he started breaking down and slammed the door shut. He was alone in his room for a good half an hour, and he was still listening to Mayday.

#

Three minutes till boarding. They said their goodbyes. He took a last glance at his parents, and noticed the airport wasn't really as beautiful as he thought it was. He walked through the gate, feeling somewhat relieved. He managed to keep his cool.

"Welcome to Singapore", they announced.

He took a mental note to look for the key to his cupboard drawer right after he arrived at his dorm. Somehow he didn't look for it right away. He just lay down on his bed, falling asleep to the sound of silence.

Come January, We're Frozen Inside.

I've never been the travelling type. I'm content with staying at home for holidays. Before this year, the longest duration I've been away from home is 10 days. I forgot how it felt like...I think I was having fun. Being in a hostile environment, witnessing things you've never seen before and hanging out with new buddies...seem kinda fun. But sometimes when you get away from home for too long, in my case 3months, you kinda get tired. You wake up in the morning wondering where's that thick blanket that has the greatest smell on earth. You try to close your eyes again, hoping that when you wake up again your room at home magically appears. Most of the time you just convince yourself that the sun will not go down on you today, so get up and continue working for your dream.

I don't know if i ever had one, but for now I'm really not sure which direction i'm heading to. I'm not sure if I ever felt so confused in life before. I'm not even sure if I'm where I'm supposed to be. Being 20 is hard. Ranting about it won't change anything. It's even harder when the one you thought would listen didn't even take time to do so.

Confessions of a Band Geek

Confessions of a Band Geek

I was so glad to hear that Taurus was going to pick us all up with her Toyota Unser. I knew it’s going to be a long day and it’s going to be more enjoyable if I didn’t have to drive. I’m always a lazy advantage-taking bug.

There were seven of us in the car – Taurus, two Narnians, Cinci, SLK, Dom and me. Of course we talked and shared about everything and nothing. Pillow talk, with a little unexplained awkwardness.

When we arrived at the stadium, it was packed with band geeks. It was like a marching band addiction meet-up group. Why not? It’s the annual state marching band competition. Everyone had to be there. We had to be there to see our juniors perform.

It’s perfect for flashbacks.

#Everyone spends five years in high school here. I went to Chung Ling Butterworth High School. Five of the years, I was in the school band －marching band by day, wind orchestra by night. I was never really fond of the marching part, I preferred just playing music. I thought being in a marching band would make me look geeky. But all members had to participate anyway.

I was a percussionist in the band. Most people consider drummers cool, that’s why I chose to enter the percussion section in the first place. And if you’re in the brass or woodwind section, you might have to share instruments with other members, which practically means sharing saliva. #

“JIT SIN! JIT SIN!” supporters shouting when Jit Sin High School marching band was up to perform. Dom and I shrugged our shoulders in ignorance.

# “Tap tap……tap tap……” that was the sound of SLK’s marching snare drum, providing the band a seemingly steady rhythm to march in. Everyone was exhausted, we had been running our drills and formations from morning till evening. Being our drum major, Hooi was trying his best to keep everyone both in line and in spirit. Based on the degree of sunburn on his almost Hellboy-colored skin, you could tell how fatigued he was, and how dedicated he was to the upcoming state competition.

During practice, we would have little 5-minute breaks. Sometimes we sit right down complaining about the weather, sometimes we had banters going around. Most of the time Taurus brought Hooi water to drink – they were dating. They still are the cutest couple among my friends. Who says high school sweethearts don’t last?

When the competition was getting near, that’s when you could see a lot of dramas and emotions going on. It was make or break, as we’re in our senior years, which meant no more next year to fight for our long-awaited championship. All these years Jit Sin had been claiming the title with us coming short. It was now or never for us. #

Due to some technical miscommunication, the markers on the field needed to be readjusted for Chung Ling’s band to perform in. We thought to ourselves, it’s time for ex-members to ‘perform’. Hooi gathered all of us to brief us about the mission. Although Hooi already graduated like the rest of us, he spent his holiday coaching the band. So there were about 25 of us eager to help on the mission. It was like a reunion, reminding us of the good old days.

The organizers gave us ten minutes to readjust all the markers on the field before our band was up to perform – we usually used a few hours measuring and drawing markers on our own field. So there we were in front of thousands of spectators, a small troop of non-uniformed soldiers battling in the field, fighting with markers on the floor. We managed to finish the task in time, then we ran back to the audience podium shouting ‘Chung Ling! Chung Ling!’ all the way. Hooi said we’re a bunch of crazy seniors.

# It was a few minutes before we’re up to perform. Everyone gathered and Hooi briefed us about what to do and what not to do. It was a nervous time. All of a sudden, someone stepped out and gave us a motivational and moving speech – he was already full of tears by the time he finished talking. It still sends chills down my bone every time I think of it. We got all pumped up, and gave our best performance – at least we thought so.

The band was in the ready position when the results were being announced. Which meant no immediate shouting of joy if we’re to be announced winners. I was almost certain we were finally getting our title because of the amount of hard work we put in and the maturity of our performance that brewed for five years. When we were announced as the first runner-up, everyone stood still. There were teardrops on my quad tom. #

It sent chills down our bone when Chung Ling’s band performed a marching band version of ‘We’re All In This Together’. It was perfect for all of us. We’re amazed by how well they performed with just three weeks of practice – it usually took months. We shouted our joys from the audience podium. This might be our long-awaited championship performance.

The band was in the ready position when the results were being announced. Ex-members were all standing beside the field, readying to explode and rush to our bands if they were to be announced winners. We could hear Hooi’s heartbeats from a few steps away. Everyone was dying to find out if this performance would be Hooi’s masterpiece. I looked at the band on the field and thought to myself : that used to be us. I’d give anything to go back and experience that life in the band again.

The second runner-up was announced, and it wasn’t Chung Ling. And everyone knew it was up to either Chung Ling or Jit Sin to win the title. It was exactly like our time two years ago, but we all hoped and wished that the outcome could be different this time.

When the first runner-up was announced, everyone stood still again.

# It was a weird time. It’s wrong to congratulate each other and it’s hard to give condolences when you’re already crying. We didn’t know the appropriate expression to give on our face. In the midst of Jit Sin’s celebration, somehow we gained the guts to sing our school anthem. At least we needed to pretend that we still had our spirits high. It was sunset when we went home. #

Jit Sin marching band won 7 in a row. That was the headline of the night. Well, for sure they spent more time into this competition than our band did. At least our band got the best drum major award, which Hooi never got. It was a happy night for the band, most members are satisfied with the result as they already exceeded expectations.

I can’t say it’s a happy night for the rest of us ex-members. Of course we’re happy for the band’s achievements, but in a way, we felt old. We were done. The band reminded us of who we used to be and how great our lives were when it was all about band practice and rehearsals. Sometimes when your past is too good to be true, it’s hard to move on to the next stage – which will not include marching under the hot sun.

# When we were back in our bandroom, everyone calmed down and we talked and shared our feelings. Somewhere along the line someone shouted ‘One Band, One Sound! Wooohoooo!’. I kept shouting and wiped the tears away from my drumhead.#

What we do in Raja Uda.

What we do in Raja Uda.

It’s Friday night. I knew what was coming. We all knew. Everyone received a call from Dom.

“Tonight, on or not?” Dom asked.

“On.” I replied. So did everyone.

Then I started to go on Facebook to ask everyone about the location. If you are new to this, let me tell you something. We could do Dom’s plan at one of two places. It’s always up to us to choose the exact location. Dom doesn’t like to go into little details – he’s indecisive on this kind of stuff. Anyway, nobody actually cared about the exact location. We simply wanted to do it.

The clock turned nine. I mean, the digital time indicator on my laptop displayed 9:ooPM. That was it – it’s time to depart.

I was driving my dad’s Toyota, concentrating on the traffic, replying texts, and making sure I had only RM10 in my wallet. Young adults born in the 90s are really a new breed of excellent multitaskers. It’s just a straight road anyway. A really long one. One that can lead you to every place in town. One that you never get tired of driving on it everyday. One that you can drive on blindfolded, literally.

The plan was to be there at 9. But we all knew the event wouldn’t start at 9. There was no miscommunication – it simply wouldn’t start at 9. Because we knew that Dom needed to take a bath at 9. Everyone reached the place at 9:30PM, or after that. Dom reached with his usual wet hair, apparently drying his hair wasn’t his strongest suit.

Then we started picking up stuff. After we finished picking up stuff, the woman assigned colourful clips to the stuff that we picked. We never knew why she did that, but she’s the one in charge, she can do whatever she wanted. Then a teenage boy asked us a question that we were all obliged to answer, as he was in charge, too.

After we did it, we started talking and sharing about everything and nothing, even though we’re sweating so much from doing it. It almost felt like pillow talk.

We went separate ways afterwards.