Friday, March 24, 2006
Confession (nothing to do with plushenko)
I am feeling guilty.
My grandmother just passed away, and I am going back to Indonesia soon for her funeral. You might ask, why is ferngrass feeling guilty? Shouldn't her be feeling sad?
I admit, I am not very close to my grandmother. She stayed in Indonesia, and I only go back there for a visit in 1 or 2 years and she only came to Singapore when she needs to see the doctor in Mt E. We have a huge language barrier. I can understand what she is trying to say to me in Hakka, but I can't speak Hakka back to her. Yeah yeah, I am a useless bum. Can't even speak my own language. In my earlier memories, when she was well, she had a huge voice. She looked fierce, speaks sternly and had a very dominating aura around her. I was young and I was afraid of her because of that. I never dared to walk towards her alone without my mum or dad beside me. But I remembered when I was really young, she scolded my mum for scolding me. She gave me money and lots of sweets because she knew I like them.
The last visit I had was last year right before I started my uni. And perhaps the last thing she knew about me was I got a place in NUS. And in her words, " I had turned into a fine young women."
I am feeling guilty because I wish I made more effort in trying to communicate with her. I wish that I was not so impatient. I wish that I realise this earlier.
I was planning to go back to Indonesia tml with my mum for a quickie visit but apparently she cannot wait anymore.
There are tons to plan, about when I need to go back (my mum dun wan me to miss too many lessons because it's near exam time), what to do (remember, I can't read malay and indonesia's language is malay and I had to go there without my mum), sending emails to tutors requesting for change of tutorial classes for makeup, packing, tickets, asking my friends for favours for notes, projects etc etc. Even attire for the next few days. I have to plan them because I dun exactly have enough black blouses to go around. It's enough to tire me out.
My head is spinning right now, because the call about her news came in the middle of the night and I was awoken by my mum about the news. But I can't sleep...I worried about things that I have to do. I woke up with 4 hours of sleep and for once, I dont feel sleepy at all. No dozing off signs. And I have to stay strong for my mum because I dunno what she is thinking...I dunno how sad she is and how much she is holding up. But I can sort of tell she felt guilty and wishes that she insists on taking time from her work for the quick visit to be earlier. She told me all the time that she disliked her, for all the things my grans had done. But who doesn't hate their mothers from time to time? We all know, mother-daughter relationships are the most complex and intense but certainly one of the closest u can ever get to someone. I dun even think father-son relationships will ever be THAT close. We hate our mothers for nagging, for scolding us, for not understanding us. In order to hate, there is a need to love first. Hate and love is just seperated by a thin line, and I know she must be hurting inside.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen to me 30 years down the road. I fear of what is in front of me now.
I dun even have her picture. Her face would be a memory.
I guess that is it. Confession done. Don't worry guys, I am fine. I guess I am just suddenly....smarter than usual. And have new profound knowledge about my world.
I am really fine.
Should I mention plushenko? Just briefly...watching his videos now...kinda want to escape from all the things I have to do.
Including giving up chances to earn some money.
Cheerios guys. Hope no one is affected by this post.
P.S. Jon Jonsson is not catwalking the sg fashion festivals shows. Apparently the organisers cannot afford his show fees because they had busted their budget on the supermodel Lily Cole. (This is according to Urban section from The Straits Times. I kinda of rewrote it. Just read it if there is a need)
Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever. - June Masters Bacher
My grandmother just passed away, and I am going back to Indonesia soon for her funeral. You might ask, why is ferngrass feeling guilty? Shouldn't her be feeling sad?
I admit, I am not very close to my grandmother. She stayed in Indonesia, and I only go back there for a visit in 1 or 2 years and she only came to Singapore when she needs to see the doctor in Mt E. We have a huge language barrier. I can understand what she is trying to say to me in Hakka, but I can't speak Hakka back to her. Yeah yeah, I am a useless bum. Can't even speak my own language. In my earlier memories, when she was well, she had a huge voice. She looked fierce, speaks sternly and had a very dominating aura around her. I was young and I was afraid of her because of that. I never dared to walk towards her alone without my mum or dad beside me. But I remembered when I was really young, she scolded my mum for scolding me. She gave me money and lots of sweets because she knew I like them.
The last visit I had was last year right before I started my uni. And perhaps the last thing she knew about me was I got a place in NUS. And in her words, " I had turned into a fine young women."
I am feeling guilty because I wish I made more effort in trying to communicate with her. I wish that I was not so impatient. I wish that I realise this earlier.
I was planning to go back to Indonesia tml with my mum for a quickie visit but apparently she cannot wait anymore.
There are tons to plan, about when I need to go back (my mum dun wan me to miss too many lessons because it's near exam time), what to do (remember, I can't read malay and indonesia's language is malay and I had to go there without my mum), sending emails to tutors requesting for change of tutorial classes for makeup, packing, tickets, asking my friends for favours for notes, projects etc etc. Even attire for the next few days. I have to plan them because I dun exactly have enough black blouses to go around. It's enough to tire me out.
My head is spinning right now, because the call about her news came in the middle of the night and I was awoken by my mum about the news. But I can't sleep...I worried about things that I have to do. I woke up with 4 hours of sleep and for once, I dont feel sleepy at all. No dozing off signs. And I have to stay strong for my mum because I dunno what she is thinking...I dunno how sad she is and how much she is holding up. But I can sort of tell she felt guilty and wishes that she insists on taking time from her work for the quick visit to be earlier. She told me all the time that she disliked her, for all the things my grans had done. But who doesn't hate their mothers from time to time? We all know, mother-daughter relationships are the most complex and intense but certainly one of the closest u can ever get to someone. I dun even think father-son relationships will ever be THAT close. We hate our mothers for nagging, for scolding us, for not understanding us. In order to hate, there is a need to love first. Hate and love is just seperated by a thin line, and I know she must be hurting inside.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen to me 30 years down the road. I fear of what is in front of me now.
I dun even have her picture. Her face would be a memory.
I guess that is it. Confession done. Don't worry guys, I am fine. I guess I am just suddenly....smarter than usual. And have new profound knowledge about my world.
I am really fine.
Should I mention plushenko? Just briefly...watching his videos now...kinda want to escape from all the things I have to do.
Including giving up chances to earn some money.
Cheerios guys. Hope no one is affected by this post.
P.S. Jon Jonsson is not catwalking the sg fashion festivals shows. Apparently the organisers cannot afford his show fees because they had busted their budget on the supermodel Lily Cole. (This is according to Urban section from The Straits Times. I kinda of rewrote it. Just read it if there is a need)
Love is like a violin. The music may stop now and then, but the strings remain forever. - June Masters Bacher
