Archive for September, 2017

September 25, 2017

forgettable face

Have you ever met someone whose face is so common, that you won’t be able to remember his/her face no matter how hard you try? I have met one that is so severe, that I strongly believe it should be classified as a superpower. It is my neighbor’s daughter.

My neighbor’s said daughter, has a face so common, that I can’t remember how she looks like no matter how hard I try. I’ve seen her face to face a few times, when I was at the apartment porch buying some bread from the Indian bread peddler, but there’s totally no recollection of any detail about her face. All I know is, she’s a teenager, about 16 or 17 of age, skinny as fuck. She probably can’t even use her face to unlock an iPhone X at all because Siri won’t have any fucking idea who she is.

It’s not that she’s ugly, because if that’s the case, it’ll be easy to remember her (let’s not even talk about being pretty). She’s just looking too commonly common. At first, I thought it was just me, so I kept this observation to only myself. Then one day, while talking to my wife about this neighbor, I had to find out if I’m alone in this…

“Hey, you know that *Cat’s Testicles’ daughter?”

*A given moniker by yours truly as I couldn’t properly pronounce my neighbor’s name in Mandarin – only to find it sound phonetically similar to ‘Cat’s Testicles’ in Cantonese.

“What about her daughter?”

“You noticed that she has such a forgettable face? I’ve seen her many times, but I still do not know how she looks like”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I do not know how she looks like!”

Fucking cat balls. That was how I found out that I’m not nuts. She’s like, a boogeyman (or a boogeybroad), who walks amongst the shadows, undetected. Hell, even if you see her face to face, your memory won’t be able to hold much information about her features – except, maybe the shape of her head, or her hairstyle. Hell, I don’t even remember how her hair looks like! When you try to remember her, your brain will give an uncorrectable error. Blue screen of death, and out pops a monochrome dinosaur telling you that this is a bad load. Think about the implications, guys. She’s like the Fifth Element in reality. Think about how much damage if Cat’s Testical’s daughter were to fall into the wrong hands. She’d be an asset in the world of espionage…

Cat’s Testicles’ daughter, ladies and gentlemen.

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September 15, 2017

how to appreciate your father

My 11 year old daughter Regine came to me about something in her BeeEm homework, I was busy reading a book on the bed.

Regine: “Daddy, what are the examples of ‘menghargai jasa ayah’?”

‘Menghargai jasa ayah’ means to show appreciation for your father’s contribution.

Me: “You can give him a hug… or maybe a gift…”

Regine: “What other examples? I need more examples”

Me: “Leave him alone…”

She got the message and left me alone. I knew she’s a smart one.

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September 7, 2017

the balcony

*long post, wrote this composite post in a few sessions.

The hot afternoon breeze combs through the patch of sun baked grass, and carries with it the smell of a long lost memory that was buried deep inside me. Not forgotten, just lost. It brought me back to the time when I was alone in my old single room flat, at the balcony which overlooked the biggest cemetery in Penang. When I was in my elementary schooling years, my mother traveled a lot, and I spent most of my time alone at home. In that home, the balcony was my special place.

It was about 8 x 3 feet small, with glazed brown tiles adorning the floor. Because the flat was so small, we had to put the fridge there too. Up near the ceiling, there was a shelving for my mom to keep her unused items. There was once, a family of sparrows nested at the shelving, and some crows came to feast on the birdlings. It was a grisly sight. Separating me from falling 8 floors down to the ground, was a railing made of iron rods, painted over with several layers of glossy paint. I’d peel the paint off some parts of the railing, revealing its history of colors from decades of my family’s presence there. It had been blue and red and brown, before it was grey. Hanging out of the iron rod railing, was a suspended iron rack made by my mom’s brother, who welded it up as a gift for her to put her plants. My mom would keep her potted plants on the rack for many years. Over the years of water damage and exposure to weather, the iron rack rusted very badly and flakes of rusts would drop on our neighbor’s awning. But it still stood when we left the flat for another home.
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