As my friends return home for their break, I sit here on the 12th floor of the StuVi 2, facing the majestic view of the great city of Boston. Pieces of ice smack the think window pane, effortlessly trying to inflict that small crack. And then I see droplets of rain gliding down the cold air. The weather is driving me nuts.
A very kind soul offers me his couch for two nights because the dormitories are not opened to students as yet. The first time I view Boston city from this same living room on the 12th floor, I'm struck by awe. It's not beautiful; its simply picturesque. And here I am, living in this city.
Awe refuses to leave my soul as I try to familiarize myself to Commonwealth Avenue during my next few days. If I was as adept as Eva Hoffmann, I would write a 1000 word paragraph to describe the buildings here.
Red bricks line the walls of houses along the Comm Ave and Bay State Road. Marsh Chapel displays amazing Gothic architecture with an odd but amazing sculpture in the middle of Marsh plaza. The College of Arts and Sciences showcases American stone masonry through engraved names of donors. But, Comm Ave itself signifies what BU is.
Huge trees line the road from Alston up to Kenmore Square. They turn a beautiful shade of red in Fall. Boston city has been kind to provide benches along the road, for that random guy to enjoy the warm Fall sun. Or, perhaps for that girl who needs to cry on her friend's shoulder.
Diversity. The one word that BU will always be proud of. People from all over the world come here. From Paris and Buenos Aires, to the outskirts of Barcelona and the tiny nation of Malaysia, there are different people in every corner.
Diversity not only in culture, but in opportunities as well. Here, there's a place for everyone. No one discriminates you for your choices. You could be in the basketball team, play piano in the College of Fine Arts (we have 140 pianos here, more than 100 are grand pianos), join the BU dance troupe, be an art major and join the astronomy club for star gazing, row boats on the Charles, ice skate and the list goes on and on.
I am impressed by America so far, or Boston at least. The people here are different from the people back home. It's not really about being friendly; outsiders probably perceive the locals as friendly because they're more outspoken. It's more about how approachable they are.
I was definitely surprised by the change in setting at the beginning, but I've adapted pretty well. At first, it felt like I was putting on a play. A feeling of tesknota filled me as I thought about a Shakespeare's poem which describes our lives as a play. Now, I've changed. I've changed so much that I wonder how weird I will sound when I get home. Home, I breathe a sigh.
The food has been pretty decent so far. I am just lucky that BU has one of the best dining halls in America. It is one of the best because of the variety of food offered. On some days, the dining hall comes up with something special: Lobster night, Invitational Chef night, German cuisine a couple of other specialties. But of course, just like food at home, it isn't always nice everyday and sometimes we get bored of the same food.
My American adventure has been great so far. However, every adventurer will definitely feel like coming home some day, and so do I. The weather is driving me crazy here. It's cold and chilly all the time now. Some days, I just stare out the window longing for the warmth of home. I think about how I can run gracefully in the parks every evening under the warm setting sun. Here, it's too cold to run outside on most days. I miss those exploding runs in the heat.
On some days, I do crave for home food. Egg curry, chicken varuval, nasi lemak, wan tan mee and it goes on and on. The food here is relatively great compared to the dorm food that is served elsewhere but it can never meet the same level of satisfaction as hot-cooked home food.
I miss my friends and family a lot too. I always think about talking to them. I have a couple of great friends here, but they're not the same as my friends back home. We just shared a connection that was built for a long time. My friends here don't give me that same level of comfort. I wanna talk to friends back home every week, but those are impossible dreams.
Everyone has their own life to focus on. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm the one wasting too much time talking to people back home. My heart tells me no. Every week, despite having homework piling up and tests to study for, I always wanna put them aside and talk to people back home. I spend time scrolling facebook just to know what's happening at home. I send texts to random, old friends just to keep in touch. I post things on facebook as a way to keep my friends updated about me. But, it still isn't quite the same.
As I see the blinking lights and planes flying out of Logan International Airport through the clear glass panes of this apartment, I wonder when I will be on one of those planes. The thanksgiving season isn't helping with homesickness. I too wanna go back and see my family. I too wanna go back and play with Rusky. I too wanna go back and go out with my friends.
Those are all foolish thoughts now. I don't know what the future holds, but if things go according to plan, I have no long term future in Malaysia. I will probably only go back for a few months a year during summer for many years to come. It's just that, I'm still not ready to let go off home....
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Friday, November 21, 2014
I'm Finally Here
I feel indifferent. Is it because I have played this scene time and time again in my mind? Why am I not feeling overwhelmed? Is it a script written for me and one that I have memorized?
I set foot on Japan in the Narita International Airport. All I know about Japan is Naruto, sushi, geisha and hentai. For a moment, I wonder what I am to do now. I have never been in a flight that had to transit at places. I follow the crowd, and eventually find the American Airlines counter. I get my new ticket to Dallas.
With a couple of hours to waste, I walk around the transit area to look for food. As I slowly start to look around, I'm astonished by how expensive things are. I get a bun and bottle of juice and settle down beside a window. As I stare out at the planes taking off, I try to take a step back and think about what's happening.
Honestly, I don't know what to feel. Am I supposed to be sad that I'm leaving my family behind? Am I supposed to be overwhelmingly happy that I'm on my way to living my dream? I feel weird about how normal all of this feels. Why am I not tearing or jumping out of joy?
I take that time to read the messages on my phone and to update my family and friends on my whereabouts. I feel touched looking at what my friends have posted on social media about me. Encouraging words fill my silent voice as I recall how lucky I am to have these wonderful people around me.
My mum texts me about how everyone is feeling my absence at home. She tells me that my brother is still crying thinking about me. He probably felt depressed that that source of comfort was no longer in his room. My sister texts me about how she misses me as well. She might not show it out, but I know my sister well, just like how I know my entire family. My parents, who have had me by their side for 20 years, must be feeling heavy with my absence around my house. You know something big has happened when your parents text you in a different tone than they used to.
And then my emotions return to the other silent voice at home. I wonder what he is doing now. Was he looking for me when my parents returned home? Is he still waiting for me to come downstairs to take him for a walk? Is he waiting for a belly rub? As tiny drops of tears form around my eyelid, I shrug it off and decide to board my next flight.
The journey is taking too long. I've lost count of time. I wake up from a long sleep, facing the clear blue skies as the Boeing flight glides over the clouds. I'm lucky to have gotten a window seat. Soon, I see some piece of land. It must be California, I think.
I touchdown in Dallas at the sight of the burning sun. Expected. It's Texas anyway, the land of cowboys and outlaws and deserts. My hungry tummy leads me to a McDonalds. When I look at the menu, I realize that I'm actually in alien land.
I take a step back and try hard to decide what those words even mean. The menu is completely different. Why don't they have McChicken? All this while, I thought McChicken was the universal McD food item. I decide on a burrito and settle at one of the tables.
Again, I realize how indifferent I feel in this new place. It's an entirely new surrounding, completely different people, totally different atmosphere. But, it's as if I am meant to be here at this exact moment. I know I'm far, far away from home, but this doesn't feel so different from home. I see all the Americans walking past me, a scene that I've acted in before, and I feel that this is my perfect role.
A couple of hours later, I'm on a smaller plane, en route to the North East. I try to kill time on the plane because I'm sick of sleeping. And, I don't wanna fall asleep because then I would miss out on the meals. So, I flip through some magazines, but I find nothing interesting there. And so, I do resort to what I do best-observing.
I observe how the people around me are so different. By now, I decide to give up on trying to decipher why I don't feel the huge changes I'm going through. I see new people who speak using the American accent, I find my love in cran-apple juice. Then, I notice something different about the stewardesses.
They're really friendly. That's an innate American trait, but what catches my attention more is how these stewardess are not hot or pretty or have their faces stuffed with make up. They're average looking, not too young or old, and are dressed rather simple. This feels like how I like the world to be-non discriminatory. The first time I feel like I'm in Utopia.
I finally land in the Logan International Airport. The moment I step out of the airport, reality hits me right away. It's always been this way since I was a young boy. I've replayed this scene many times in my head, so much so it feels like I'm acting out what I practiced. My childhood dream is waiting for me somewhere out there. I'm finally living the American dream - my American Dream!
I set foot on Japan in the Narita International Airport. All I know about Japan is Naruto, sushi, geisha and hentai. For a moment, I wonder what I am to do now. I have never been in a flight that had to transit at places. I follow the crowd, and eventually find the American Airlines counter. I get my new ticket to Dallas.
With a couple of hours to waste, I walk around the transit area to look for food. As I slowly start to look around, I'm astonished by how expensive things are. I get a bun and bottle of juice and settle down beside a window. As I stare out at the planes taking off, I try to take a step back and think about what's happening.
Honestly, I don't know what to feel. Am I supposed to be sad that I'm leaving my family behind? Am I supposed to be overwhelmingly happy that I'm on my way to living my dream? I feel weird about how normal all of this feels. Why am I not tearing or jumping out of joy?
I take that time to read the messages on my phone and to update my family and friends on my whereabouts. I feel touched looking at what my friends have posted on social media about me. Encouraging words fill my silent voice as I recall how lucky I am to have these wonderful people around me.
My mum texts me about how everyone is feeling my absence at home. She tells me that my brother is still crying thinking about me. He probably felt depressed that that source of comfort was no longer in his room. My sister texts me about how she misses me as well. She might not show it out, but I know my sister well, just like how I know my entire family. My parents, who have had me by their side for 20 years, must be feeling heavy with my absence around my house. You know something big has happened when your parents text you in a different tone than they used to.
And then my emotions return to the other silent voice at home. I wonder what he is doing now. Was he looking for me when my parents returned home? Is he still waiting for me to come downstairs to take him for a walk? Is he waiting for a belly rub? As tiny drops of tears form around my eyelid, I shrug it off and decide to board my next flight.
The journey is taking too long. I've lost count of time. I wake up from a long sleep, facing the clear blue skies as the Boeing flight glides over the clouds. I'm lucky to have gotten a window seat. Soon, I see some piece of land. It must be California, I think.
I touchdown in Dallas at the sight of the burning sun. Expected. It's Texas anyway, the land of cowboys and outlaws and deserts. My hungry tummy leads me to a McDonalds. When I look at the menu, I realize that I'm actually in alien land.
I take a step back and try hard to decide what those words even mean. The menu is completely different. Why don't they have McChicken? All this while, I thought McChicken was the universal McD food item. I decide on a burrito and settle at one of the tables.
Again, I realize how indifferent I feel in this new place. It's an entirely new surrounding, completely different people, totally different atmosphere. But, it's as if I am meant to be here at this exact moment. I know I'm far, far away from home, but this doesn't feel so different from home. I see all the Americans walking past me, a scene that I've acted in before, and I feel that this is my perfect role.
A couple of hours later, I'm on a smaller plane, en route to the North East. I try to kill time on the plane because I'm sick of sleeping. And, I don't wanna fall asleep because then I would miss out on the meals. So, I flip through some magazines, but I find nothing interesting there. And so, I do resort to what I do best-observing.
I observe how the people around me are so different. By now, I decide to give up on trying to decipher why I don't feel the huge changes I'm going through. I see new people who speak using the American accent, I find my love in cran-apple juice. Then, I notice something different about the stewardesses.
They're really friendly. That's an innate American trait, but what catches my attention more is how these stewardess are not hot or pretty or have their faces stuffed with make up. They're average looking, not too young or old, and are dressed rather simple. This feels like how I like the world to be-non discriminatory. The first time I feel like I'm in Utopia.
I finally land in the Logan International Airport. The moment I step out of the airport, reality hits me right away. It's always been this way since I was a young boy. I've replayed this scene many times in my head, so much so it feels like I'm acting out what I practiced. My childhood dream is waiting for me somewhere out there. I'm finally living the American dream - my American Dream!
Sunday, October 5, 2014
I'll Be Back Soon
It was always just the both of us. Just us. Now, it's him and me.
He came to me as a puppy. His picture when he was a puppy has always been the wallpaper on my laptop, so I still remember how he looked like 2 years ago.
I still remember the first day I met him. Rocky and he were running around the house. The moment the saw me at the gate, they ran to me. I carried both the adorable puppies, one in each hand. I was overwhelmed. I couldn't stop playing with them.
Rocky was sent back to the shelter after a few weeks because Rusky and he kept on fighting. That was an emotional separation for us, but we were there for each other. He lost his brother, I lost one of my dogs. It took a toll for a few days but we moved on from that sad incident.
Since then, we've been the greatest of buddies. We grew close to each other very fast. I took care of him so that he wouldn't feel the loss of Rocky. I didn't realize how close I grew to him until that night during chinese new year in 2013.
Rusky was terrified by the firecrackers. He was too scared that he ran out of the house through one of the holes on the compound wall, at 1 a.m. I watched from the window as he jumped out. Before I could open the door and call out to him, he was gone. I immediately ran out to look for him.
I called out to him every where but he was no where to be seen. I even took the car out to look for him but I just couldn't see him. The lack of illumination at night was a huge obstacle. I was already in tears. My aunt somehow convinced that he would return the next day.
I couldn't sleep. I woke up every hour on my own to see if he was sleeping outside my gate. Nothing. At 6, I went out to look for him again. I walked every where I could, calling out his name like a mad person. I even took the car to the highway to see if he had made it that far. All I could think of was that this was probably how my friend felt when he lost his dog. I still remember sitting on the bench in the field thinking about all the times I had spent with Rusky (that was only about 2 months). I just decided to go home and start to look for him an hour later.
I was having breakfast when my mum came back home from church. I could hear them shouting "Rusky" from outside. I just pushed my plate aside and ran out the door. And there was my little boy happily running towards me. The first thing he did was to lick the tears off my face. I can't explain how relieved I was. I made him a small hut with a cage and 3 blankets so that he could sleep without the loud sound, for the next few days.
That was way way back. The emotions that I had to go through that night was the best epitome of how much I've grown to love him as my buddy. After that day, whenever he runs out, I'll go chase him, play a little hide and seek and carry him back into the house. And that was about to end too.
A week before I left, I started to already feel sad about leaving him. I was frantically teaching the maid in my house about how to take care of him, from taking him for walks to bathing him, to giving him a belly rub.
Every passing day, I'll just look at him and think about how he is going to cope after I'm gone. I tried to play with him whenever I could, even if it meant just stroking his head, because that was the last few times I would be able to do that.
At times, I would stare at him and try to talk to him. He will look at me for a while and put his head down for me to stroke. I try so hard sometimes, even though I know it is useless. And every time I do that, I am reminded of the day that looms.
One day, I just wanted to let it all out. So, at night, I just took him out for a walk. I walked him to the field, and sat down on a bench to talk to him. I knew it was gonna be all teary but I did say some stuff to him.
"Hey Rusky. You know what, I'm leaving..." And that's all I could utter in all that sobbing.
The next day, I somehow felt better. I took him out for his walks, but took him for longer walks because after I was gone, I was sure no one would take the initiative to take him places. Even then I tried talking, constantly saying stuff like "Take care boy. Don't run away too much" but he just walked along.
A day later, again, I took him out at night. This time, I promised myself I would say something more. Again, we sat down on the same bench.
"Hey Rusky, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to fly somewhere far, far away. I won't be here to take care of you anymore. I won't be here to take you for runs anymore. You'll have to make do without all the care that I have been giving you. Remember to be a good boy. I know you'll miss biting me and playing wrestling with me and playing ball and asking for treats and jumping at the gate in the morning and, and......"
"Promise me you'll be a great doggy kay? I'm gonna miss you badly when I go to Boston. I'll be back Rusky" I wiped away my tears, smiled at him, and walked him back home.
I decided that Rusky had to have the best last walk before I left. So, first I took him as far as I could, letting him smell the new places. And then we ran and ran till he got tired and started jumping on me to stop. He was tired and probably thought we could run the next day. He didn't know there wasn't one.
As I walked out of the house after getting dressed, I saw my little doggy wagging his tail while looking at me. Everyone else was moving my luggage. All I could do was just sit there with him and cry. I asked everyone else to go out into the car while I spent my last few moments with him alone. I just patted him, stroked him on his head, gave him a belly rub, stroked him more and more till I knew I had to leave.
"Bye Rusky, I'll be back soon, doggie" He probably thought the "bye" was like how it has always been. He didn't know I wasn't coming back home that night, or the nights that followed.
I'm not shy to admit that I'm crying this instant while typing this blog post. This is what happens every time I think of him here.
I see him on skype once a week but he can't recognize my voice over Skype. He always responded to me when I called him at home. Sometimes, if he's sleeping, he'll wake up only if I call him, not anybody else. He knew my voice so well, but it's sad to see he can't now. I try effortlessly to call him over skype.
"Rusky, come here boy" "Hey Rusky" "Do you wanna go for walk?" "Rusky wants a treat?" "Hey Rusky" None of it works.
When I get lonely here at times, I think of him. I think of how he hears my footsteps when I wake up every morning. If I happen to sleep after 8.30, he barks out loud to wake me up. If the maid wants to take him out for walk, he looks at the staircase to see if I'm coming down. When he hears me coming down the staircase, he starts jumping in excitement.
"Good morning Rusky" He looks at me for a moment. "Let's go for walk" And he starts jumping like crazy. His excitement makes me smile every time. We have a series of steps to complete before we go for a walk. I asked my sister to record them one day so I could keep it. I watch it over and over again here, but it isn't the same.
When I see people walking their dogs here, I think of Rusky. Sometimes, I approach the dogs and play with them. I pat them, stroke their heads and massage their jaws, just like how I used to do to Rusky. After I walk off, I smell the dogs on my hands, and I start to miss Rusky.
I'll come back to my dorm and start thinking about him. Rusky loves belly rubs. Sometimes, he positions his body so that I can give him a belly rub. And he always doesn't want me to stop. That look on his face is still there on my mind.
Then, there are those moments I watch videos of dogs on facebook. I think of all the cute moments with Rusky. Sometimes, after he eats, he tries to remove the rice in his throat. He does it a very cute manner. I have a picture of him doing that. But that's it, just a picture. I'm not there to disturb him.
He acts crazy whenever I come home from anywhere. Every single time. I'll open the gate, lead him to the table, and massage him as he tries so hard to lick my face. He succeeds at times though. Then, I'll pat him and he will be fine.
I miss giving him treats and training him. All those tricks he knows, I thought him from scratch. Everything was between us. Just me and him. We spent a lot of time together. And now he has to spend it alone.
I dream of him sometimes when I'm here. Whenever I see him in my sleep, I tear up and wake up instantly. And after that, I take a while to sleep back. But I never wanna sleep back. I just wanna continue thinking about him.
When people ask me what do I miss most at home, there is only one answer . "My dog. I really really miss him." I miss everyone else at home too. I always wanna talk to them too. But, at least I can talk to them. I can't even do that with Rusky. I try to stay happy on skype but I usually hold back my tears when I try to call him on skype. That's just the sad reality.
Sometimes, I feel sad that he no more gets the attention that I use to give him. Nobody else at home does that. When I ask them if they gave Rusky a belly rub, my mum just blames my brother for not playing with him.They like him, but they've never seen him the way I do. To them, he's just a dog. To me, he's my buddy. All the little things that I used to do...it's ok, I don't wanna delve on that. The only thing that gives me some peace of mind is that there is someone to do the basic stuff that he needs.
Sometimes, I think of the times I'll lie down beside him and and pat him. If he's sleepy, he'll snuggle his nose in between my arm and body. If he's excited, he'll jump on me and bite me. And, we end up playing wrestling and I end up having scars on my hands, and all that saliva I need to wash off. I miss him biting me too.
Sometimes, I wonder why I miss him so much. I think it's probably like how a mother would miss her child. I've brought him up since young, gave him all the attention he needs, taught him discipline, spoiled him from time to time, made sure he had his needs take care off. But now, I have to leave him in the hands of people who don't see him the way I do. That's the most disappointing part.
My friends can try to console me but there's nothing much they can do. The truth is, I'm away from my dog and I can't do anything. It's a heavy sacrifice that I have to make in order to pursue my dream. Even with all these thoughts, I'm just helpless. I'll just continue to think about him till that day comes.
The day when I return home, and Rusky sees me, runs up to me, and then I'll massage him, he'll start licking and biting me and then we'll play catch till we're tired and he'll settle down. The day I return home to see my little boy....
"Bye Rusky. I'll be back soon, doggie"
He came to me as a puppy. His picture when he was a puppy has always been the wallpaper on my laptop, so I still remember how he looked like 2 years ago.
I still remember the first day I met him. Rocky and he were running around the house. The moment the saw me at the gate, they ran to me. I carried both the adorable puppies, one in each hand. I was overwhelmed. I couldn't stop playing with them.
Rocky was sent back to the shelter after a few weeks because Rusky and he kept on fighting. That was an emotional separation for us, but we were there for each other. He lost his brother, I lost one of my dogs. It took a toll for a few days but we moved on from that sad incident.
Since then, we've been the greatest of buddies. We grew close to each other very fast. I took care of him so that he wouldn't feel the loss of Rocky. I didn't realize how close I grew to him until that night during chinese new year in 2013.
Rusky was terrified by the firecrackers. He was too scared that he ran out of the house through one of the holes on the compound wall, at 1 a.m. I watched from the window as he jumped out. Before I could open the door and call out to him, he was gone. I immediately ran out to look for him.
I called out to him every where but he was no where to be seen. I even took the car out to look for him but I just couldn't see him. The lack of illumination at night was a huge obstacle. I was already in tears. My aunt somehow convinced that he would return the next day.
I couldn't sleep. I woke up every hour on my own to see if he was sleeping outside my gate. Nothing. At 6, I went out to look for him again. I walked every where I could, calling out his name like a mad person. I even took the car to the highway to see if he had made it that far. All I could think of was that this was probably how my friend felt when he lost his dog. I still remember sitting on the bench in the field thinking about all the times I had spent with Rusky (that was only about 2 months). I just decided to go home and start to look for him an hour later.
I was having breakfast when my mum came back home from church. I could hear them shouting "Rusky" from outside. I just pushed my plate aside and ran out the door. And there was my little boy happily running towards me. The first thing he did was to lick the tears off my face. I can't explain how relieved I was. I made him a small hut with a cage and 3 blankets so that he could sleep without the loud sound, for the next few days.
That was way way back. The emotions that I had to go through that night was the best epitome of how much I've grown to love him as my buddy. After that day, whenever he runs out, I'll go chase him, play a little hide and seek and carry him back into the house. And that was about to end too.
A week before I left, I started to already feel sad about leaving him. I was frantically teaching the maid in my house about how to take care of him, from taking him for walks to bathing him, to giving him a belly rub.
Every passing day, I'll just look at him and think about how he is going to cope after I'm gone. I tried to play with him whenever I could, even if it meant just stroking his head, because that was the last few times I would be able to do that.
At times, I would stare at him and try to talk to him. He will look at me for a while and put his head down for me to stroke. I try so hard sometimes, even though I know it is useless. And every time I do that, I am reminded of the day that looms.
One day, I just wanted to let it all out. So, at night, I just took him out for a walk. I walked him to the field, and sat down on a bench to talk to him. I knew it was gonna be all teary but I did say some stuff to him.
"Hey Rusky. You know what, I'm leaving..." And that's all I could utter in all that sobbing.
The next day, I somehow felt better. I took him out for his walks, but took him for longer walks because after I was gone, I was sure no one would take the initiative to take him places. Even then I tried talking, constantly saying stuff like "Take care boy. Don't run away too much" but he just walked along.
A day later, again, I took him out at night. This time, I promised myself I would say something more. Again, we sat down on the same bench.
"Hey Rusky, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to fly somewhere far, far away. I won't be here to take care of you anymore. I won't be here to take you for runs anymore. You'll have to make do without all the care that I have been giving you. Remember to be a good boy. I know you'll miss biting me and playing wrestling with me and playing ball and asking for treats and jumping at the gate in the morning and, and......"
"Promise me you'll be a great doggy kay? I'm gonna miss you badly when I go to Boston. I'll be back Rusky" I wiped away my tears, smiled at him, and walked him back home.
I decided that Rusky had to have the best last walk before I left. So, first I took him as far as I could, letting him smell the new places. And then we ran and ran till he got tired and started jumping on me to stop. He was tired and probably thought we could run the next day. He didn't know there wasn't one.
As I walked out of the house after getting dressed, I saw my little doggy wagging his tail while looking at me. Everyone else was moving my luggage. All I could do was just sit there with him and cry. I asked everyone else to go out into the car while I spent my last few moments with him alone. I just patted him, stroked him on his head, gave him a belly rub, stroked him more and more till I knew I had to leave.
"Bye Rusky, I'll be back soon, doggie" He probably thought the "bye" was like how it has always been. He didn't know I wasn't coming back home that night, or the nights that followed.
I'm not shy to admit that I'm crying this instant while typing this blog post. This is what happens every time I think of him here.
I see him on skype once a week but he can't recognize my voice over Skype. He always responded to me when I called him at home. Sometimes, if he's sleeping, he'll wake up only if I call him, not anybody else. He knew my voice so well, but it's sad to see he can't now. I try effortlessly to call him over skype.
"Rusky, come here boy" "Hey Rusky" "Do you wanna go for walk?" "Rusky wants a treat?" "Hey Rusky" None of it works.
When I get lonely here at times, I think of him. I think of how he hears my footsteps when I wake up every morning. If I happen to sleep after 8.30, he barks out loud to wake me up. If the maid wants to take him out for walk, he looks at the staircase to see if I'm coming down. When he hears me coming down the staircase, he starts jumping in excitement.
"Good morning Rusky" He looks at me for a moment. "Let's go for walk" And he starts jumping like crazy. His excitement makes me smile every time. We have a series of steps to complete before we go for a walk. I asked my sister to record them one day so I could keep it. I watch it over and over again here, but it isn't the same.
When I see people walking their dogs here, I think of Rusky. Sometimes, I approach the dogs and play with them. I pat them, stroke their heads and massage their jaws, just like how I used to do to Rusky. After I walk off, I smell the dogs on my hands, and I start to miss Rusky.
I'll come back to my dorm and start thinking about him. Rusky loves belly rubs. Sometimes, he positions his body so that I can give him a belly rub. And he always doesn't want me to stop. That look on his face is still there on my mind.
Then, there are those moments I watch videos of dogs on facebook. I think of all the cute moments with Rusky. Sometimes, after he eats, he tries to remove the rice in his throat. He does it a very cute manner. I have a picture of him doing that. But that's it, just a picture. I'm not there to disturb him.
He acts crazy whenever I come home from anywhere. Every single time. I'll open the gate, lead him to the table, and massage him as he tries so hard to lick my face. He succeeds at times though. Then, I'll pat him and he will be fine.
I miss giving him treats and training him. All those tricks he knows, I thought him from scratch. Everything was between us. Just me and him. We spent a lot of time together. And now he has to spend it alone.
I dream of him sometimes when I'm here. Whenever I see him in my sleep, I tear up and wake up instantly. And after that, I take a while to sleep back. But I never wanna sleep back. I just wanna continue thinking about him.
When people ask me what do I miss most at home, there is only one answer . "My dog. I really really miss him." I miss everyone else at home too. I always wanna talk to them too. But, at least I can talk to them. I can't even do that with Rusky. I try to stay happy on skype but I usually hold back my tears when I try to call him on skype. That's just the sad reality.
Sometimes, I feel sad that he no more gets the attention that I use to give him. Nobody else at home does that. When I ask them if they gave Rusky a belly rub, my mum just blames my brother for not playing with him.They like him, but they've never seen him the way I do. To them, he's just a dog. To me, he's my buddy. All the little things that I used to do...it's ok, I don't wanna delve on that. The only thing that gives me some peace of mind is that there is someone to do the basic stuff that he needs.
Sometimes, I think of the times I'll lie down beside him and and pat him. If he's sleepy, he'll snuggle his nose in between my arm and body. If he's excited, he'll jump on me and bite me. And, we end up playing wrestling and I end up having scars on my hands, and all that saliva I need to wash off. I miss him biting me too.
Sometimes, I wonder why I miss him so much. I think it's probably like how a mother would miss her child. I've brought him up since young, gave him all the attention he needs, taught him discipline, spoiled him from time to time, made sure he had his needs take care off. But now, I have to leave him in the hands of people who don't see him the way I do. That's the most disappointing part.
My friends can try to console me but there's nothing much they can do. The truth is, I'm away from my dog and I can't do anything. It's a heavy sacrifice that I have to make in order to pursue my dream. Even with all these thoughts, I'm just helpless. I'll just continue to think about him till that day comes.
The day when I return home, and Rusky sees me, runs up to me, and then I'll massage him, he'll start licking and biting me and then we'll play catch till we're tired and he'll settle down. The day I return home to see my little boy....
"Bye Rusky. I'll be back soon, doggie"
The Journey Is Finally Here
I got closer and closer to date as the days flew by. I remember pausing my mind for a moment to think about the fact that I would be in a whole new place in a week. But people were waiting for me at home. So, I drove back immediately after getting my phone fixed.
Quite a number of my friends were already waiting for me when I returned home. I greeted each with a smile knowing that that could be the last time I was going to see them. Even then, my mind was still not grasping the magnitude of what was about to happen in a week's time.
I put on my favourite shirt and went downstairs to be greeted by a whole group of people I knew, from near and far. My house was so full with people, and I knew almost everyone of them. That's a lot of people to say goodbye to me.
I felt overwhelmed for a moment that that entire occasion was for me. Are you kidding me? What was happening to me that I needed such a big crowd. "You're going off to live your dream and these are some of the people whom you will be leaving behind", my inner self told me.
My closest friends were drowned out in the crowd, something that never happens when I am around them. But that was reality - many, many people actually came for my farewell party. I'm touched. But somehow, I'm still not overwhelmed.
My friends left at 1 in the morning. I cleaned up the place and went to bed. I was still not getting it. Why is this a big deal? Is it really that big of a thing? Why am I a celebrity all of a sudden? Why was the spotlight on me today? What kind of an impact did I have on people? Was I that important? None of these questions came up to me. I just didn't seem to get the magnitude of what was about to happen.
The days flew by just like that. Soon, it was Wednesday - a day before my 20th birthday. My mega best friend decided to celebrate my birthday today. How nice of her. She cooked lunch for me and we went over to her apartment. She needed some help with her study table and shelf, so I helped her fix it. Lunch was really nice. Salmon, mashed potatoes and boiled vegetables. And then, we went for a short swim in the pool despite running out of time to get back home. Before getting back home, we went to get me a pair of formal shoes which I needed to wear soon. And then, she got me a small birthday cake and we cut it at night. And just like that,Wednesday went by. It was too quick.
Thursday was bound to be a day of nostalgia. It was my last training session and basketball outing with friends. I was just sitting there with my coach and thinking about all the good times and hard work I had put in across the years. The younger boys will be much bigger when I see them the next time. I bade one last farewell to them before I drove off to my final basketball game with Prodigy.
I was unusually early. No one was there yet. The skies were clear and bright. I sat on the swing all alone just staring into empty space. I looked at the basketball and tried to recall all the fun moments my friends and I had playing basketball and football. It's not what we did, but it was the emotions that related to these experiences that was coming back to me. So much of emotions flowed right into me, and my heart just felt heavy. To leave all this and to go, that is quite a sacrifice. I played my last game and bade farewell to the place I had had the most fun in the last 9 months.
It was my birthday today, so my mum baked me a cake. My family had a small celebration for me. I've always wanted my mum to bake a cake for my birthday. She couldn't do it the last 2 years because of circumstances that I can't remember now. I was happy she baked one for me this time.
Hours later, it was Friday. I was still confused about what's happening. What is actually happening to me? Why am I feeling so emotionless when everything is centered on me now? I felt indifferent. I was still going with the flow. I was going out with my friends later tonight.
But before that, I had one last dinner with my coach and a few of my training friends. It was my last dinner with them, but I still couldn't grasp the magnitude of the event. The fact that the dinner was for me was not settling in. My emotions were shut out. I couldn't feel how much I would miss these people who had meant so much to me. I knew they were gonna feel it, and I'm sure the sight of me walking away after hugging each one of them stayed in for a while.
A while later, I was on the way to the night club with my friends. We tried our luck in one of the places, but got "kicked out" because we were below 21 years of age. Every other club was closed down because that Friday happened to be the day of mourning for the MH17 victims. After all the chaos of lost directions, we settled down in a bar. There were funny moments all along the way till we slept at 7.30 a.m. God bless the cleaners in McDonalds.
Again, I was still acting so normal. Why is that so? I couldn't come to terms with myself. It was as if it was a normal outing with friends. I didn't feel like I was leaving them. All that was running in my mind was that I'm not understanding the fact that I'm leaving to America the next day. It was as if it was a dream.
Saturday night, my friend helped me to repack my suitcase because my packing consumed too much space. Honestly, she did most of the packing and I was just staring at her doing it all the time. I knew I was going to miss her a lot as well. Tomorrow, at this time, I would be in the airport.
The atmosphere changed that night in my house. I could see the look on my siblings' face : The day they dreaded was approaching. I could feel the sadness in my sister's and brother's eyes as they watched my friend help me pack. I was leaving them for a long, long time. Somehow, I could feel their heart. I held back my tears.
Sunday finally came. I noticed every small thing I did, constantly telling myself that I probably won't be doing that for sometime. My relatives came over to see me that day. It all happened so fast. Soon, I was taking my last shower at home. I adorned my suit and was ready to leave. After a conversation, with my neighbours, I was on my way to the airport, with my family and closest buddies.
In the airport, I had to move some stuff from my luggage and things were good to go. My friends and I just had to get crazy again and rendezvoused in the playground inside the airport. All that while, all I could think of was "where else can I find friends like these?"
Before we knew it, we were at the gate. I gave my final hugs to my friends. I got a picture with every one of them-the last pictures I would take before I left. Each and every one of them meant something to me, and nobody could replace them. I don't know who to thank for bringing them in my life. We had a group hug and next up was my family.
My dad hugged me extra tightly that day. It had a different feel to it; he's probably already missing his son. My mum broke down in tears and I hugged her for a longer time than usual, saying "it's ok. I'll be back". My sister was in tears too. We never spent that much time before I left because she was already studying in her matriculation college, but she's been my sister for 18 years. She was definitely feeling the loss of the presence of her big brother. And my little brother, he was a strong boy. He said bye without shedding a single tear, but I knew he was probably gonna be affected the worst. We fight, we argue but at the end of the day, we are still brothers. And nobody can replace that figure in him.
I tried to give everyone one last look before I cleared immigration. Everyone was waving at me. At that moment, I realized how lucky I was to have so many people around me. Not everyone has that kind of luxury. One last familiar smile, one last wave, and I was off into the unknown......
P.S. The next blog post is going to be about Rusky. The author assures you that the emotional message will be much stronger then. It's not a story for the faint-hearted
Thursday was bound to be a day of nostalgia. It was my last training session and basketball outing with friends. I was just sitting there with my coach and thinking about all the good times and hard work I had put in across the years. The younger boys will be much bigger when I see them the next time. I bade one last farewell to them before I drove off to my final basketball game with Prodigy.
I was unusually early. No one was there yet. The skies were clear and bright. I sat on the swing all alone just staring into empty space. I looked at the basketball and tried to recall all the fun moments my friends and I had playing basketball and football. It's not what we did, but it was the emotions that related to these experiences that was coming back to me. So much of emotions flowed right into me, and my heart just felt heavy. To leave all this and to go, that is quite a sacrifice. I played my last game and bade farewell to the place I had had the most fun in the last 9 months.
It was my birthday today, so my mum baked me a cake. My family had a small celebration for me. I've always wanted my mum to bake a cake for my birthday. She couldn't do it the last 2 years because of circumstances that I can't remember now. I was happy she baked one for me this time.
Hours later, it was Friday. I was still confused about what's happening. What is actually happening to me? Why am I feeling so emotionless when everything is centered on me now? I felt indifferent. I was still going with the flow. I was going out with my friends later tonight.
But before that, I had one last dinner with my coach and a few of my training friends. It was my last dinner with them, but I still couldn't grasp the magnitude of the event. The fact that the dinner was for me was not settling in. My emotions were shut out. I couldn't feel how much I would miss these people who had meant so much to me. I knew they were gonna feel it, and I'm sure the sight of me walking away after hugging each one of them stayed in for a while.
A while later, I was on the way to the night club with my friends. We tried our luck in one of the places, but got "kicked out" because we were below 21 years of age. Every other club was closed down because that Friday happened to be the day of mourning for the MH17 victims. After all the chaos of lost directions, we settled down in a bar. There were funny moments all along the way till we slept at 7.30 a.m. God bless the cleaners in McDonalds.
Again, I was still acting so normal. Why is that so? I couldn't come to terms with myself. It was as if it was a normal outing with friends. I didn't feel like I was leaving them. All that was running in my mind was that I'm not understanding the fact that I'm leaving to America the next day. It was as if it was a dream.
Saturday night, my friend helped me to repack my suitcase because my packing consumed too much space. Honestly, she did most of the packing and I was just staring at her doing it all the time. I knew I was going to miss her a lot as well. Tomorrow, at this time, I would be in the airport.
The atmosphere changed that night in my house. I could see the look on my siblings' face : The day they dreaded was approaching. I could feel the sadness in my sister's and brother's eyes as they watched my friend help me pack. I was leaving them for a long, long time. Somehow, I could feel their heart. I held back my tears.
Sunday finally came. I noticed every small thing I did, constantly telling myself that I probably won't be doing that for sometime. My relatives came over to see me that day. It all happened so fast. Soon, I was taking my last shower at home. I adorned my suit and was ready to leave. After a conversation, with my neighbours, I was on my way to the airport, with my family and closest buddies.
In the airport, I had to move some stuff from my luggage and things were good to go. My friends and I just had to get crazy again and rendezvoused in the playground inside the airport. All that while, all I could think of was "where else can I find friends like these?"
Before we knew it, we were at the gate. I gave my final hugs to my friends. I got a picture with every one of them-the last pictures I would take before I left. Each and every one of them meant something to me, and nobody could replace them. I don't know who to thank for bringing them in my life. We had a group hug and next up was my family.
My dad hugged me extra tightly that day. It had a different feel to it; he's probably already missing his son. My mum broke down in tears and I hugged her for a longer time than usual, saying "it's ok. I'll be back". My sister was in tears too. We never spent that much time before I left because she was already studying in her matriculation college, but she's been my sister for 18 years. She was definitely feeling the loss of the presence of her big brother. And my little brother, he was a strong boy. He said bye without shedding a single tear, but I knew he was probably gonna be affected the worst. We fight, we argue but at the end of the day, we are still brothers. And nobody can replace that figure in him.
I tried to give everyone one last look before I cleared immigration. Everyone was waving at me. At that moment, I realized how lucky I was to have so many people around me. Not everyone has that kind of luxury. One last familiar smile, one last wave, and I was off into the unknown......
P.S. The next blog post is going to be about Rusky. The author assures you that the emotional message will be much stronger then. It's not a story for the faint-hearted
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Just Playing Along
I guess I probably have not grasped reality just as yet. It still seems a distant dream like how it always used to be. That image of me surrounded by white people in a distant land. The imagery of the situation that has been ever evolving is still taking shape. I still feel the difference in the setting the same way I used to feel about it.
Maybe, I've spent so much time imagining it that my path after this seems so normal. Very natural and neutral. I'm not jumping around in euphoria neither am I sulking about the things I'm about to leave behind. I am still waking up every morning the same way. But reality is, I'm just six weeks away from walking into a whole new world.
Things have changed quite a bit since that day I knew I would be heading there. For the people I meet at the stadium every so often, I've turned from "the average joe" to "the super student-athlete who is going to make the entire athletic community proud come this Fall". The conversations with fellow stadium occupants usually starts from the thought of "why is a young adult doing sprint workouts in complete sporting gear in the stadium when he should be working or studying?" The sense of surprise at my destined path and the joy in their faces has become a common sight when this topic comes up. One guy in particular, always asks me about updates on my journey to the West and probably tells everyone else he meets in my presence about my future undertakings. That face is one to stay in my thoughts for a long long time.
My family members, are also on the same bandwagon of excitement. "When are you leaving?" is the question that zooms across my face in every family gathering. End of my special month. And every time I answer, not only to them but anyone who asks me the same question, I do a little math to count how long I have left. That is probably the only time I get to experince that weird feeling-jitters in my heart and butterflies in my tummy. It's as if I'm ready to catch the plane the very next moment. The urge to fly and fly to an endless place in my dream. That moment when you feel that sense of accomplishment, not because I'm fulfilling my dreams but because of the way my dreams fuel happiness in others. That is accomplishment.
My friends represent a funny cocktail of emotions. Some talk about the days I'll be gone. There will be one less person in every dinner, futsal, basketball or movie outing. There will be one less person to talk to as regularly as now (considering the fact that I am nearing the end of a 9-month break). Some are so excited at the prospect of me leaving. They are always asking me questions about my journey up till now, right from the beginning of A-Levels, and about the next steps in my voyage across the Atlantic and Indian oceans. And then there are those who seem unfazed by the direction I'm heading to now.
I think it is human nature to say cliche lines when a certain situation arises. Everyone seems happy about me leaving and wish me luck. But behind those words lie a world unknown to others but oneself. Being happy for someone else's joy is a requirement today but deep down our well of emotions, we can't stop the fish from trying to show its intent of escaping by jumping out.
I mean, who knows what others think inside. One could be really happy I'm going to a place that he or she had been before. Or even proud of what I am able to accomplish given the policies in our country. Or just plain happy that that good friend of him or her is going there. But, for some people, it's a whole different story. Some might be sad thinking of how they could not do what I was doing even though they had really wanted it at one time. Some could also be envious of the chance I got. Some might also go back in time to rue the chances missed and how their lives would have been a different ball game had they worked harder or been given the chance. And some would think of the days I will be absent.
Throughout my life, especially since those schooling years where I used to daydream a lot, many random people have come up to me and said some really nice words or given sound advice. That certain group of random people seemed to have found something in me for them to express their inner thoughts. For instance, there was this one night a few weeks back when I was at the burger stall near my house, chomping down on a late night snack. The owner, whom I've known for about 9 years now, was happily wishing me luck on my future. And then, he was telling me his story and how things were for him in school and that's why he is where he is now. You could say this was cliche, but you know, sometimes you just know it when people are sincerely happy for you. Probably, that guy was just overwhelmed to hear that "skinny boy who used to buy burgers and chit chat" has grown up is and is on his way into the future.
In a way, it is an amazing experience to go through to hear people saying stuff to you when they are caught by surprise. It's not everyday you hear a boy from your neighborhood going to the West to study. It is probably the words of encouragement from others that keeps reminding me of what I am about to go through pretty soon. I could just wake up tomorrow and jump around in excitement or sit by my bed and reminisce the things I will miss. But then again, probably, my reluctance to get overexcited on this new journey where I will have to sacrifice many things is the main reason I'm just going with the flow. Till that day comes...........
Maybe, I've spent so much time imagining it that my path after this seems so normal. Very natural and neutral. I'm not jumping around in euphoria neither am I sulking about the things I'm about to leave behind. I am still waking up every morning the same way. But reality is, I'm just six weeks away from walking into a whole new world.
Things have changed quite a bit since that day I knew I would be heading there. For the people I meet at the stadium every so often, I've turned from "the average joe" to "the super student-athlete who is going to make the entire athletic community proud come this Fall". The conversations with fellow stadium occupants usually starts from the thought of "why is a young adult doing sprint workouts in complete sporting gear in the stadium when he should be working or studying?" The sense of surprise at my destined path and the joy in their faces has become a common sight when this topic comes up. One guy in particular, always asks me about updates on my journey to the West and probably tells everyone else he meets in my presence about my future undertakings. That face is one to stay in my thoughts for a long long time.
My family members, are also on the same bandwagon of excitement. "When are you leaving?" is the question that zooms across my face in every family gathering. End of my special month. And every time I answer, not only to them but anyone who asks me the same question, I do a little math to count how long I have left. That is probably the only time I get to experince that weird feeling-jitters in my heart and butterflies in my tummy. It's as if I'm ready to catch the plane the very next moment. The urge to fly and fly to an endless place in my dream. That moment when you feel that sense of accomplishment, not because I'm fulfilling my dreams but because of the way my dreams fuel happiness in others. That is accomplishment.
My friends represent a funny cocktail of emotions. Some talk about the days I'll be gone. There will be one less person in every dinner, futsal, basketball or movie outing. There will be one less person to talk to as regularly as now (considering the fact that I am nearing the end of a 9-month break). Some are so excited at the prospect of me leaving. They are always asking me questions about my journey up till now, right from the beginning of A-Levels, and about the next steps in my voyage across the Atlantic and Indian oceans. And then there are those who seem unfazed by the direction I'm heading to now.
I think it is human nature to say cliche lines when a certain situation arises. Everyone seems happy about me leaving and wish me luck. But behind those words lie a world unknown to others but oneself. Being happy for someone else's joy is a requirement today but deep down our well of emotions, we can't stop the fish from trying to show its intent of escaping by jumping out.
I mean, who knows what others think inside. One could be really happy I'm going to a place that he or she had been before. Or even proud of what I am able to accomplish given the policies in our country. Or just plain happy that that good friend of him or her is going there. But, for some people, it's a whole different story. Some might be sad thinking of how they could not do what I was doing even though they had really wanted it at one time. Some could also be envious of the chance I got. Some might also go back in time to rue the chances missed and how their lives would have been a different ball game had they worked harder or been given the chance. And some would think of the days I will be absent.
Throughout my life, especially since those schooling years where I used to daydream a lot, many random people have come up to me and said some really nice words or given sound advice. That certain group of random people seemed to have found something in me for them to express their inner thoughts. For instance, there was this one night a few weeks back when I was at the burger stall near my house, chomping down on a late night snack. The owner, whom I've known for about 9 years now, was happily wishing me luck on my future. And then, he was telling me his story and how things were for him in school and that's why he is where he is now. You could say this was cliche, but you know, sometimes you just know it when people are sincerely happy for you. Probably, that guy was just overwhelmed to hear that "skinny boy who used to buy burgers and chit chat" has grown up is and is on his way into the future.
In a way, it is an amazing experience to go through to hear people saying stuff to you when they are caught by surprise. It's not everyday you hear a boy from your neighborhood going to the West to study. It is probably the words of encouragement from others that keeps reminding me of what I am about to go through pretty soon. I could just wake up tomorrow and jump around in excitement or sit by my bed and reminisce the things I will miss. But then again, probably, my reluctance to get overexcited on this new journey where I will have to sacrifice many things is the main reason I'm just going with the flow. Till that day comes...........
Saturday, June 7, 2014
The Dilemma
My dad came back home with his usual calm composure. However, the news that followed was somewhat unsettling. My grandpa had a mild heart attack. He had been experiencing pain for the past 3 months and never once he told any of his 5 children. But my grandpa being himself, played it down as if it was a common cold in the hospital.
While that news did shock me a little since my grandpa is pretty health conscious, what followed after sent me back to that one question that had been bugging me. In the hospital, a man just passed away and his family were crying around him. His wife, seeing her son's face, knew something was wrong with her husband. In another corner of the hospital, an old man was screaming at the nurses "bring my wife back to life". So much love, so much feelings, so much sadness,but only at the end.
Again and again, it's the same question. I start to wonder if that's the biggest question I will have to face throughout my life. It just keeps repeating like a tape recorder and comes into fray in everyday situations. In the face of losing something, do we do something in favour of us to spend the last moments together as much as possible or do we shy away from it to reduce the pain?
It was a few years back when I one day I thought about the day my mum would leave me forever in the future. The day she passes on, the day she will be no more. I was trying to imagine the stuff that I would miss about her. The way she disturbs me, the small conversations we used to have, all those times she fed me dinner, and the list goes on and on. I felt a sense of longing for her all of a sudden. Pure imaginations conjured up such strong emotions in me. And that day I promised myself that I would do more stuff to shower my love on her while she's still here. But then, something very odd crossed my mind that day. If I slowly stayed away from my mum, would that ease the pain when she is gone? It was a very unorthodox and weird idea but somehow that question stuck to me from that day on.
It is quite something for me to think about everyday, now that I'll be leaving home for the first time pretty soon. Everyday, I look at the simple things around me and ask myself the same question. Should I do it more while I can or should I do it less to ease the loss? Food is a great example to start with, since I'm eating like a giant these days. I love Malaysian food. When I go to university, I'll not be able to get or afford it even if it's there. I think about how much I'm gonna crave my mum's crab curry and the bah kut teh in Pandamaran. I'm gonna miss these food immensely when I'm there. So, should I eat them less frequently and start to change my diet now to ease the transition?
Leave food aside. Time to talk about friends. Honestly, after my immediate family and my grandma, my friends are my everything. I'd probably trust them more than my cousins or uncles and aunties. These buddies have played a huge role throughout my schooling life until now. I remember the last day of high school when I lay on my bed and thought of the fact that I would probably not meet them as frequently any more. We were heading on different paths and I begged that time would just go back a few months (without the exams). It was painful then, but things got better as we occasionally met up and somehow I got used to it. What about after this? Once a year. These people who helped formed the rock foundation of myself are the ones I'm about to leave behind. Is it gonna be more painful now since I'm spending so much time with them? I don't know.
I miss my sister quite a bit now since she's away for her studies. Even though she's just a 2 hour drive away, it isn't the same anymore. It's not the same not disturbing her. If only she could have left for her studies after I left. My brother, I am pretty strict with him at times but no one can take away how much I care for him. I'm gonna miss those times when I could wrestle him down, kick the ball to his face, give him the butt kicks and getting a few myself as well.
And finally, probably the first thing I would cry for before leaving-Rusky. It's been almost 2 years now. Our relationship is just different now. No one else understands him the way I do. His every move, his eye twitches, the very funny scenes when it is time to bathe, the times he asks for belly rubs, the times he wants to lick my face clean, treat time, and those long and eventful walks with him. (I'd probably write a post about him before I leave) It's painful to just leave a boy you nurtured since he was a baby in the arms of people who just don't understand some of his needs. The simple ones, like the rub beneath the snout.
All these things play in my head from time to time. It's difficult I guess for someone like me who's about to grow out of his home and into the real world. And, how painful is it going to be to leave all these behind and go? Only time would tell. When time was going to tell the story, is it worth frowning and waiting? One day, I made up my mind.
I am going to spend as much time with my mum while I'm here and make her happy because she will also be losing her trustworthy child to the outside world, even if it meant sitting with her to watch her lame tv shows. I am going to binge on all the wonderful food here without leaving anything to miss later. I am going to make sacrifices from my schedule to meet up with my friends, even if it means I'll be dead tired by the end of the day or on my rest days. I am going to play with my brother on certain evenings and probably catch up with a game of FIFA on Play Station. And I'll probably try to hang out with my sis and bro when my sis is at home. And definitely I'm gonna do as much as possible for Rusky so that he gets to have a lot of fun before he loses a huge chunk of that when I'm gone.
And what happens after that? I'll probably break down when it's time to leave. I think I've grown mature enough to live through these memories and keep them to myself for the future. I have learnt to live with the sadness and move on, because at some point in time, I realized that so many great moments were enclosed in that sadness and to not feel sad would be a great loss of memories of all the fun times. So, right now, it's time to throw away all the speculation and live life to the fullest during the next two and a half months. Anyway, when time himself volunteered to tell the story, why wait for him as he takes away those memories that could be? As the countdown begins, I'm gonna run and run and chase each and every one down!
While that news did shock me a little since my grandpa is pretty health conscious, what followed after sent me back to that one question that had been bugging me. In the hospital, a man just passed away and his family were crying around him. His wife, seeing her son's face, knew something was wrong with her husband. In another corner of the hospital, an old man was screaming at the nurses "bring my wife back to life". So much love, so much feelings, so much sadness,but only at the end.
Again and again, it's the same question. I start to wonder if that's the biggest question I will have to face throughout my life. It just keeps repeating like a tape recorder and comes into fray in everyday situations. In the face of losing something, do we do something in favour of us to spend the last moments together as much as possible or do we shy away from it to reduce the pain?
It was a few years back when I one day I thought about the day my mum would leave me forever in the future. The day she passes on, the day she will be no more. I was trying to imagine the stuff that I would miss about her. The way she disturbs me, the small conversations we used to have, all those times she fed me dinner, and the list goes on and on. I felt a sense of longing for her all of a sudden. Pure imaginations conjured up such strong emotions in me. And that day I promised myself that I would do more stuff to shower my love on her while she's still here. But then, something very odd crossed my mind that day. If I slowly stayed away from my mum, would that ease the pain when she is gone? It was a very unorthodox and weird idea but somehow that question stuck to me from that day on.
It is quite something for me to think about everyday, now that I'll be leaving home for the first time pretty soon. Everyday, I look at the simple things around me and ask myself the same question. Should I do it more while I can or should I do it less to ease the loss? Food is a great example to start with, since I'm eating like a giant these days. I love Malaysian food. When I go to university, I'll not be able to get or afford it even if it's there. I think about how much I'm gonna crave my mum's crab curry and the bah kut teh in Pandamaran. I'm gonna miss these food immensely when I'm there. So, should I eat them less frequently and start to change my diet now to ease the transition?
Leave food aside. Time to talk about friends. Honestly, after my immediate family and my grandma, my friends are my everything. I'd probably trust them more than my cousins or uncles and aunties. These buddies have played a huge role throughout my schooling life until now. I remember the last day of high school when I lay on my bed and thought of the fact that I would probably not meet them as frequently any more. We were heading on different paths and I begged that time would just go back a few months (without the exams). It was painful then, but things got better as we occasionally met up and somehow I got used to it. What about after this? Once a year. These people who helped formed the rock foundation of myself are the ones I'm about to leave behind. Is it gonna be more painful now since I'm spending so much time with them? I don't know.
I miss my sister quite a bit now since she's away for her studies. Even though she's just a 2 hour drive away, it isn't the same anymore. It's not the same not disturbing her. If only she could have left for her studies after I left. My brother, I am pretty strict with him at times but no one can take away how much I care for him. I'm gonna miss those times when I could wrestle him down, kick the ball to his face, give him the butt kicks and getting a few myself as well.
And finally, probably the first thing I would cry for before leaving-Rusky. It's been almost 2 years now. Our relationship is just different now. No one else understands him the way I do. His every move, his eye twitches, the very funny scenes when it is time to bathe, the times he asks for belly rubs, the times he wants to lick my face clean, treat time, and those long and eventful walks with him. (I'd probably write a post about him before I leave) It's painful to just leave a boy you nurtured since he was a baby in the arms of people who just don't understand some of his needs. The simple ones, like the rub beneath the snout.
All these things play in my head from time to time. It's difficult I guess for someone like me who's about to grow out of his home and into the real world. And, how painful is it going to be to leave all these behind and go? Only time would tell. When time was going to tell the story, is it worth frowning and waiting? One day, I made up my mind.
I am going to spend as much time with my mum while I'm here and make her happy because she will also be losing her trustworthy child to the outside world, even if it meant sitting with her to watch her lame tv shows. I am going to binge on all the wonderful food here without leaving anything to miss later. I am going to make sacrifices from my schedule to meet up with my friends, even if it means I'll be dead tired by the end of the day or on my rest days. I am going to play with my brother on certain evenings and probably catch up with a game of FIFA on Play Station. And I'll probably try to hang out with my sis and bro when my sis is at home. And definitely I'm gonna do as much as possible for Rusky so that he gets to have a lot of fun before he loses a huge chunk of that when I'm gone.
And what happens after that? I'll probably break down when it's time to leave. I think I've grown mature enough to live through these memories and keep them to myself for the future. I have learnt to live with the sadness and move on, because at some point in time, I realized that so many great moments were enclosed in that sadness and to not feel sad would be a great loss of memories of all the fun times. So, right now, it's time to throw away all the speculation and live life to the fullest during the next two and a half months. Anyway, when time himself volunteered to tell the story, why wait for him as he takes away those memories that could be? As the countdown begins, I'm gonna run and run and chase each and every one down!
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
A Story To Be Told But Not Be Retold
It was dark when I stepped onto the brick pavement on my first day. All dark and gloomy, literally and metaphorically. I walked a few more steps to look for a small corner where I could rest till my friends arrived. It's still fresh in my mind how I felt at that moment. "Is this how my life will be for the next one and a half years? ". That feeling of negativity shrouded myself. I was just down and sad for no reason. It was as if I came to the wrong place. Dawn broke, my friends arrived, and excitement ensued but that was the beginning of a nightmare.
All throughout orientation week, I sat in between my school friend and a Korean boy. A group of Indian boys were sitting right in front of me. I used to wonder why were they sitting together when the hall was filled with hundreds of others. I thought they felt like an outcast being the minority there. But eventually, I found out that they were all given the same apartment units in the scholars' hostel. It struck me as a racist move by the college, but honestly, towards the end, I felt they were lucky.
I remember sitting at the back during orientation just listening and observing people. I felt like I was in alien world. I came from a traditional Malay school and here I was chucked into a host of people who only spoke their mother tongue. All I could hear was Chinese and Tamil with a few specks of English shared between the people sitting beside me. All my discussion at that time was with my school friend, as the alien world seemed too distant and different to me.
Honestly, I could explain why I felt that way at that time. Maybe because of the changed environment. In school, I mixed with people from various educational backgrounds and abilities but the here, everyone was smart. I didn't feel bad because of the competition ( because I cared nothing for it) but because of the changed mentality. These people were all just trying to head to Cambridge and Oxford but none were there to have small talks and crack real jokes. The mentality shift was a whole different thing. I honestly felt alienated. I went back home dejected, not only that day but many days after that as well.
First day in class was horrible. Suddenly, race and language was a huge dilemma for me. Most of my classmates were Chinese and there were 2 Indians and 2 Malays there. Honestly, I could have chosen to sit beside the Indian guy but then I didn't like the fact that we could be referred to as racists. So, I sat with a group of Chinese boys at the back of class. I probably regret my decision today. I didn't know things could get worse.
Things were just difficult. Everyone in class spoke in some Chinese dialect except the few of us who weren't Chinese. I felt like a outcast, an ignored piece of crap in class. Casual conversation, discussion on studies, instructions for classmates, planning of events and even jokes which made the entire class laugh except us, all in Chinese. After some time, I got sick of asking them what was happening. They didn't give a fucking shit about others in class. But the thing is, I won't blame them completely because they grew up in such an environment. They stuck to people of their own kind all the time, unlike my school friends who were of different races. It's was like they didn't care or didn't want to care about that one friend that could not understand them. Even though all my training friends were Chinese, I still wasn't treated this way by them.
My lecturers were a mixed bunch. A couple of them were the only reason I wanted to attend college, while another made me hate her class and subject. I used to feel left out in class all the time. Whenever I couldn't understand anything and at the same time my classmates couldn't, group discussions will be in Chinese. And I'll be left sitting at the corner like some idiot trying to be Einstein. And my classmates were just homework oriented. They did their homework at every opportunity they had. And I will just be there looking around to find even that tiny speck of happiness that was abundant in my high school.
Taylor's was just the worst place for an athlete like me. Besides the gym, there wasn't any other activities I could do. Nothing was outdoor. Everything was indoor and air conditioned to accommodate the rich and lame people filling up the corridors and classrooms there. There was nothing for me to do there besides studying and eating. That wasn't my life at all. I was filled with energy in school. I had so many things to do. I had the best and most fun people in the entire school as my friends. And here, nothing. It was just crap. Eventually, I reached my limits and depression ensued.
I used to come to college everyday and sit with my school friend, D, before classes began. He shared my feelings about the college because it was sucky for the both of us. We would sit in the learning hub every morning with the thick books in front of us while complaining about life. Occasionally, we went back down memory lane just to make us happy that we once went through that. And to remind ourselves how sad this place made us. It was the surrounding and the people. That place was filled with people I was not used to. And there was no one I could turn to either. Countdown to the number of weeks of college that we had left became a regular thing every morning. I was itching to get out of the college.
I hated college and couldn't cope with studies so much that I decided to just stay at home and study even when classes were still going on. I couldn't study in college, and traveling back and forth between college and home was time consuming. I knew I wasn't getting any better in college so I resorted to self study. Occasionally, I met up with my lecturers to clear any doubts. Other than that, there was not even a pinch of guilt in me for skipping classes. I felt happier at home.
Towards the end of my time there, I became close with a friend of mine. It all started with me advising her during her hard times based on her statuses in Facebook. She was a really fun person to hang around with and we laughed a lot. She reminded me of how happy I used to be in school. We hung out and did stupid things everywhere, making fun of people and laughing about the simplest things. Honestly, she was one of the few good things that happened to me in college. I even threw away my fears of being called a racist and mingled more with the Indian guys because they were so much more fun to be with than my classmates.
Another highlight of my college life was the Heart Rock Carnival in 2012. I wrote a blog post about it-one of the few I wrote after I joined this alien place- and I still remember it pretty well. But you know, when I think of it now, I realized that I was also alone that time as my other friends had gone back earlier. I was there, standing in front of the university placement centre, clutching my bag, and singing along to the local bands strutting their stuff downstairs - one of the many times I sang along to my own type of music in college, all alone.
Well, another thing I'll never forget about college is my lecturers, 2 of them in particular. My mathematics lecturer was honestly the best lecturer I had met in my life so far. His classes were probably the only reason I attended college during the "draught" period. And my further mathematics 1 lecturer, she was just nicely perfect. She was the most approachable lecturer I had and I honestly enjoyed her classes because of the way she taught and her sincerity during teaching.
Would I have taken a different path if I was given a chance to go back in time? No. The experience there was just bad with a few sprinkles of happiness but I know that there isn't a better place than that to prepare me for my life in university. Even then, I'll meet somewhat the same variety of people but I'm equipped to find my way around it now. But still, college life could have been so different had I met the right people earlier. It was too little too late in the end.....
P.S. The blogger is extremely happy to be back blogging after a hiatus due to busy schedules. And he is planning to keep on blogging after this. Hopefully
All throughout orientation week, I sat in between my school friend and a Korean boy. A group of Indian boys were sitting right in front of me. I used to wonder why were they sitting together when the hall was filled with hundreds of others. I thought they felt like an outcast being the minority there. But eventually, I found out that they were all given the same apartment units in the scholars' hostel. It struck me as a racist move by the college, but honestly, towards the end, I felt they were lucky.
I remember sitting at the back during orientation just listening and observing people. I felt like I was in alien world. I came from a traditional Malay school and here I was chucked into a host of people who only spoke their mother tongue. All I could hear was Chinese and Tamil with a few specks of English shared between the people sitting beside me. All my discussion at that time was with my school friend, as the alien world seemed too distant and different to me.
Honestly, I could explain why I felt that way at that time. Maybe because of the changed environment. In school, I mixed with people from various educational backgrounds and abilities but the here, everyone was smart. I didn't feel bad because of the competition ( because I cared nothing for it) but because of the changed mentality. These people were all just trying to head to Cambridge and Oxford but none were there to have small talks and crack real jokes. The mentality shift was a whole different thing. I honestly felt alienated. I went back home dejected, not only that day but many days after that as well.
First day in class was horrible. Suddenly, race and language was a huge dilemma for me. Most of my classmates were Chinese and there were 2 Indians and 2 Malays there. Honestly, I could have chosen to sit beside the Indian guy but then I didn't like the fact that we could be referred to as racists. So, I sat with a group of Chinese boys at the back of class. I probably regret my decision today. I didn't know things could get worse.
Things were just difficult. Everyone in class spoke in some Chinese dialect except the few of us who weren't Chinese. I felt like a outcast, an ignored piece of crap in class. Casual conversation, discussion on studies, instructions for classmates, planning of events and even jokes which made the entire class laugh except us, all in Chinese. After some time, I got sick of asking them what was happening. They didn't give a fucking shit about others in class. But the thing is, I won't blame them completely because they grew up in such an environment. They stuck to people of their own kind all the time, unlike my school friends who were of different races. It's was like they didn't care or didn't want to care about that one friend that could not understand them. Even though all my training friends were Chinese, I still wasn't treated this way by them.
My lecturers were a mixed bunch. A couple of them were the only reason I wanted to attend college, while another made me hate her class and subject. I used to feel left out in class all the time. Whenever I couldn't understand anything and at the same time my classmates couldn't, group discussions will be in Chinese. And I'll be left sitting at the corner like some idiot trying to be Einstein. And my classmates were just homework oriented. They did their homework at every opportunity they had. And I will just be there looking around to find even that tiny speck of happiness that was abundant in my high school.
Taylor's was just the worst place for an athlete like me. Besides the gym, there wasn't any other activities I could do. Nothing was outdoor. Everything was indoor and air conditioned to accommodate the rich and lame people filling up the corridors and classrooms there. There was nothing for me to do there besides studying and eating. That wasn't my life at all. I was filled with energy in school. I had so many things to do. I had the best and most fun people in the entire school as my friends. And here, nothing. It was just crap. Eventually, I reached my limits and depression ensued.
I used to come to college everyday and sit with my school friend, D, before classes began. He shared my feelings about the college because it was sucky for the both of us. We would sit in the learning hub every morning with the thick books in front of us while complaining about life. Occasionally, we went back down memory lane just to make us happy that we once went through that. And to remind ourselves how sad this place made us. It was the surrounding and the people. That place was filled with people I was not used to. And there was no one I could turn to either. Countdown to the number of weeks of college that we had left became a regular thing every morning. I was itching to get out of the college.
I hated college and couldn't cope with studies so much that I decided to just stay at home and study even when classes were still going on. I couldn't study in college, and traveling back and forth between college and home was time consuming. I knew I wasn't getting any better in college so I resorted to self study. Occasionally, I met up with my lecturers to clear any doubts. Other than that, there was not even a pinch of guilt in me for skipping classes. I felt happier at home.
Towards the end of my time there, I became close with a friend of mine. It all started with me advising her during her hard times based on her statuses in Facebook. She was a really fun person to hang around with and we laughed a lot. She reminded me of how happy I used to be in school. We hung out and did stupid things everywhere, making fun of people and laughing about the simplest things. Honestly, she was one of the few good things that happened to me in college. I even threw away my fears of being called a racist and mingled more with the Indian guys because they were so much more fun to be with than my classmates.
Another highlight of my college life was the Heart Rock Carnival in 2012. I wrote a blog post about it-one of the few I wrote after I joined this alien place- and I still remember it pretty well. But you know, when I think of it now, I realized that I was also alone that time as my other friends had gone back earlier. I was there, standing in front of the university placement centre, clutching my bag, and singing along to the local bands strutting their stuff downstairs - one of the many times I sang along to my own type of music in college, all alone.
Well, another thing I'll never forget about college is my lecturers, 2 of them in particular. My mathematics lecturer was honestly the best lecturer I had met in my life so far. His classes were probably the only reason I attended college during the "draught" period. And my further mathematics 1 lecturer, she was just nicely perfect. She was the most approachable lecturer I had and I honestly enjoyed her classes because of the way she taught and her sincerity during teaching.
Would I have taken a different path if I was given a chance to go back in time? No. The experience there was just bad with a few sprinkles of happiness but I know that there isn't a better place than that to prepare me for my life in university. Even then, I'll meet somewhat the same variety of people but I'm equipped to find my way around it now. But still, college life could have been so different had I met the right people earlier. It was too little too late in the end.....
P.S. The blogger is extremely happy to be back blogging after a hiatus due to busy schedules. And he is planning to keep on blogging after this. Hopefully
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