Thought of writing awhile ago, when the intense rumblings of thunder interrupted both me and kokoro. Well you know the drill, dogs are petrified of lightning storms and as the job of a responsible owner, she had to accompany it. But I figured out the hasty sound of thunderbolt are what kept my mind disorientated and weak, which is a good thing because it means I get to complicate feelings with over-analysis. Once the first velocity struck, I felt huge vibrations from the kitchen stove, then a text message from a friend whom lived further away from me, informing about the ferocious thunder. A case/possibility of "the end is near." Nah joking. I always had a thing for cataclysm dark twisted psychological torture. Which probably explains why death doesn't surprise me anymore.
Sure once in awhile, I'd like to let the brain figure things out for me, mainly just picturing apparitions flying around the living room and ending up feeling disorientated and paranoid when I was required to drag myself to the kitchen for a quick hot tea refill. You know, you used to get scared easily over things that were maintained that being frightened all the time as a kid kept you short all these years. Mom said those random scare moments must have froze my height. Thus explains the inability to grow as tall as brother. I remember watching my very first horror Movie at the age of 6. The movie was a classic 1980s clash of the titans. The part where poorly digitalised Medusa shone at any soldiers who looked directly in her green eyes and then later turned into brittly crumpy stones. Embarrassing part was I couldn't sleep for nights without picturing her in my mind.
Then when I seemingly have forgotten all about Medusa, I was introduced to another set of Horror Movie. In 2008, where "Stay Alive" the show was considered a big hit in cinema I guess. My father had a habit of purchasing pirated DVDs in Malaysia, therefore every night was movie night for us. We would all sit and watch random horror movies picked from that pile dusty disks under the TV table drawer. It was really fun though, since I get to stay up late most of the nights during my childhood years. Kids during that age would roll up in curb balls feeding their dreams. Oh, and it was very enjoyable because we all watch movies in Dad's master bedroom, in Johor Bahru Malaysia. The terrace house was entirely on ground level, and it was like a walking maze to get from the living room to the Kitchen. Bad news is we had to sell the house because JB appears not to be a safe place to live anymore, not even a say vacation day. Anyway, the thought of revisiting this story was all too familiar, I might have written or verbalize it to my friends before. I call it the Staying Alive Story.
Back on track, the evil Stepmother from the movie was all too much for me. I couldn't grasp the basic knowledge of how horror movie works, apparently was in state of consternation. Still am sometimes... I mean how could you not, that face was pure ugly and evil. However the actress is quite hot though. Long story short, I still couldn't proceed to my life and daily routine. It was hell but kind of a learning journey.
Fear was established everywhere when I was a kid. Using canes to educate children are far too familiar with the Asian and Nigerian families. That was one fear I had in mind, despite giving my best shot for all examinations as a kid. I remember once that I unknowingly lied to my mother about scoring a 93/100 for my primary 3 SA1 math exam. She was so overjoyed that she held onto my exam papers and rushed up to the second floor. After investigation and false hope, she yelled at me for scoring 64 instead because I accidentally added wrongly. She knelt onto the ground and wept like mad. I recall it as countless times, where she would lecture me for those poor scores and then reaching out for the cane. I don't exactly have the slightest clue as to why most Asian parents kill to see an A in their kid's report card but mine was always a D or E.
Well, striving for excellency is not a bad idea aint it. Hahaha
Too many reasons and ideas to list here. Yet I'm stuck with the undesirable routine of waking up early every morning and adopting a good habit of crashing once the clock hits midnight. Last week of internship was disastrous. Not only have I first-handedly witness the definition of a horrible Boss, I had the honor to work for them. They said first impressions matters and I guess I blew it.
The boss of the company is a middle age Singaporean auntie, typically those you might easily spot and identify at a high-end cafe. These tai tai (aka. atas) aunties often come in 2 or 3 people, never more than 5 because that is considered as an online meetup for the 40 to 50 singles age group. What would I say describe my superior in a way which might mistake us as best friends? Well first of all, she likes her hair permed, hair designed to resemble a bird nest image since it represents royalty and rich. Enough said. Oh, they love wearing wedges or fat stilettos that makes annoying *clack* sound, it's as if no one would notice their presence but that sound could interrupt/assassinate any hummingbird's confidence in ever singing again. One day I was dozing off at my desk when I heard the sound of her heels, I woke up immediately and was introduced to her as the company's finance manager. From then on, I couldn't even fall asleep even if I want to, I tried but will always be interrupted by the exceedingly thunderous loud mouth of hers. Hypothetically speaking, arrogant middle aged superiors likes to show off their assets and overall richness. On the other hand, she bitch about anyone, whoever and everyone. My entire last weeks' work schedule consists of overhearing every conversation she have had and guessing who Tom,Dick and Harry is, and occasionally sorting out file documents and taking unnecessary long toilet and smoke breaks.
God. I realize I have been writing long winded essays. However there is more, hidden in my mind, waiting to spew every information I have registered. Internship is evil, it's like a maneuver of bad energy surrounding you. It definitely wasn't what I had in mind. I pictured having a Dwight or Ron Swanson in a company, where the character Ron is a libertarian who couldn't care more about the surroundings in an office. While Dwight is overly sensitive, and dumb, but interestingly fun to get along with. Also a Peter Gibbons from the movie Office Space, who could perhaps one day lead us into believing we don't need a stable job and a boss like Bill Lumbergh who practically ends most of his sentences with "that'd be great". However, I suppose working helps to keep my mind off visualizing and imaging ways to kill someone/end one's life. Gives me great pleasure to end every fantasy stories with blood and gore.
I suppose this is my life now. For 6 months, sitting at an organised table facing 4 walls and overhearing annoying gossips involuntarily. God I pray for a fair jury.
|A fair description of my boss. I present to you Auntie Ursula. Haha kidding, Ursula was my childhood fondest memory.|