Back to school

An appointment for work brought me back to the campus that holds two educational institutions, one of which is where I spent 3 years studying for a degree I was never sure I wanted. I knew I wanted a degree; I loved studying; just that in those three years in that school, I never had one of those mushy, warm-all-over moments when I thought, "I love this beautiful place and I can't bear to think of graduating and leaving it for the big, bad world."

Because, actually, it's not a beautiful place. I used to describe my university as "a pimple on _____ College's butt". With age has come greater tact, and now I would only go so far as to say it's an extension to the original building that was built with more consideration for economics than aesthetics. The original college had the frontage. We had the... never mind. And still, our parents had to pay more than double (a LOT more than double) of what a comparable course would have cost elsewhere. "But there you don't get degree from this Australian uni, some more this is an offshore campus." (That came from the counsellors, and we believed it.)

The "perks" of attending this offshore campus rather than a local college, besides the exorbitant fees, were: 1) our very own set of restrooms; 2) our very own entrance to the library (they knocked out a few feet of wall, put in a door and called it 'our' library); 3) the occasional reminder that students at the onshore campuses had it much, much cushier. During communication lab classes, they got to go to the computer lab. We had an extra tutorial to make up for the computers in our lab not being equipped for whatever it was we were supposed to do.

About twenty of us graduated from my class in this university. I'm pretty sure there isn't a single one of us who was sure the experience and subsequent degree were worth the money. Things haven't improved much since then, yet the uni has no shortage of prospective students. It makes me wonder if it all makes sense: my parents paid a bundle so I would go to uni and learn a little more than what I would have learnt if I hadn't gone to uni; now that I've graduated, that knowledge is supposed to help me earn more so I can save up and one day send my kids to uni...

All that said, though, I admit I miss the structure and constant challenges of academia. Given the chance (and the moolah), I would go back to school any day because I'm not done learning yet and university does force you to learn faster, think harder, understand better.

Yup, I'd love to go back to school. But even though today's visit sparked off some serious nostalgia, ("Ooh, the bookshop! That's where we laughed for five minutes over that coin bank in the shape of a couch with two penguins on it!"), I am quite sure of one thing.

I won't be going back to that school.

How strong?

My thumb drive came home on August 31 after having been missing for a few weeks.

Its cap has just been found, in an even more surprising place and way.

Some people travel halfway around the world looking for miracles in statues that weep, drumskins that continue to grow fur, and gold dust that appears mysteriously.

I've known for a long time, and just been reminded, that miracles are seldom so elusive, expensive or exclusive. Nor are they always lofty and abstract.

Cheesy Analogy Time
Imagine a father demonstrating his strength to his children by lifting a 2kg watering can and helping them water their potted plants. The children are impressed, and from now on they'll have this equation in their minds: Daddy = Strong! Actually, Daddy can bench-press 350 without blinking, but they won't understand that. It won't matter much to them, either.

But their flowers need watering, and Daddy has done it for them.

As for me, I don't know what the equivalent of the bench press is.

But finding that little blue piece of plastic after four months sure made my day, though it isn't even a strain on that Heavenly bicep (figuratively speaking). More importantly, it inspired me to ask daily for more demonstrations of Fatherly strength.

The Secret of Balance

It was a busy day at the office. The in tray was full. The out tray was full. A mysterious person, who could be identified only by the spiky black hair visible above the stack of paper, came every half hour to empty the out tray. Who knew where to. The recycling bin in the back alley, probably.

From in tray to out tray, out tray to alley. (Or at least it seemed that's where my life was going)

I reached for another sheet from the in tray. Paused. The in tray was no longer there.

I looked around. I realised it was I who was no longer there. I mean, at my desk at work. I was now sitting behind a table about the same size, but instead of a partition board with cute animal photos all over it, on the other side sat a jolly little man wearing a hat that looked like it was made out of a paper bag.

Welcome!
"Welcome to Felicitous Fortunes! Good fortune or your money back. What can I predict for you today?"

I stared in shock, wondering what would happen back at work when the spiky-haired person came and found the out tray, for once, empty.

"Cat got your tongue? OK then, how's this? Have you heard the one about the guru who owned a hot dog stand?"

Silence from me.

"Come on, come on, it's a good one! Guess what the customer says to the guru! Guess right and I'll throw in a free 'good luck in the workplace' figurine." He gestured towards a shelf on the other end of the room, stacks of boxes with words like "Love Life Booster", "Prosperous Business Money Plenty" and "Every RM1 coin Received in Change From Coffee Shops Sure Authentic, 100% Guarantee Accepted by Banks" on them.

Silence. Then, at the sight of his fat, complacent, happy little face, something in me snapped.

I don't want your figurines. I don't want your fortunes. I just want to go back to work, to a job I actually enjoy, yes, that's right, enjoy, so I can do my work and after that go home and work on my other projects, and when I'm done with that I can spend about 5 minutes with my family before I go back to work overtime. And don't you, little fat man in paper bag hat, dare ask me why I must do so much.

"Why do you feel you have to do so much?"

That was it. It must have been the stress, because of course I'm not usually a hitting kind of person. The little fat jolly man was too heavy to make it across the room, but his paper bag hat made it.

And then...
Seconds later, I found myself back at my desk. No need to even say 'There's no place like office, there's no place like office...'

In retrospect, I really wish I hadn't hit him. Because the fat man did have a point: I do feel compelled to do more than I need to, and it's making me so edgy that I can't even take a joke from a jolly commercial clairvoyant. From that day on, I resolved to keep my work and outside commitments, relationships with humans and God in the proper balance (in increasing order of importance).

The moral of the story?
If you want to have some balance in your life, it's best to strike a happy medium.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

No mediums were harmed in the writing of this story.

Comrades for the Overthrow of the Packaging Proletariat

A few weeks back, in a moment of foolish weakness, I succumbed to the pretty packaging of a certain brand of biscuits bearing a copyrighted Japanese cartoon image (and her bunny and strawberry friends).

Thanks to the professional pictures on the box, I also believed that the biscuits would be of equal quality, munchy-wise, to another brand I shall henceforth remain loyal to. The latter's biscuits are offered in more flavours and embellished with proprietary panda images, which I find just as pleasing to the eye. Why not please both eye and palate at the same time, rather than the following scenario which happened when I tried to eat the biscuits pictured above?

Me: (Opens box and tears open foil package within)
Good, Brainy Voice (see earlier post on the purchase of these things): Now we'll see who's right.
Me: (Pops biscuit in mouth)
Tongue: Whoa momma! What is this stuff?
Teeth: Can anyone say "lao hong" (Hokkien for "leaked air", ie gone soft)?
Tongue: Has my job function changed? Because I sure feel like a trash can!
Stomach: Hey, watch your mouth. You think you have a lousy job, you come and talk to me.
Intestines: !
Stomach: You guts don't even think of saying anything!
GBV: Heh, heh (in complacent tone)
Eyes: At least they're good to look at.
Other body parts: Choi! Who's talking to you?
Me: Sigh. What's it take to get a decent cartoon-decorated cream-filled biscuit these days?

Homecoming

In a string of events that an atheist or sceptic would call "coincidence" and I can only call "Providence", my blue thumb drive has come home. The one I had given up as lost forever about a month ago, because I could find it neither in the office nor anywhere at home. I thought I must have dropped it in the garden and two dogs are now walking around with some silicon in them.

So I thought I'd misplaced my shopping mall parking ticket but during the search, the thumb drive was found instead.

"Serendipity!" the Thesaurus Bug in my head yells. It's a big, complicated word to describe a simple concept: "accidentally discovering something good". Hokkiens have a colourful phrase for it: "Blind chicken stumbles upon a worm."

(It sounds more impressive in Hokkien.)

Home?
Speaking of, it's August 31! Happy Birthday, Malaysia! :o)

Still freaked

The lump has not gone away. So it is time to see the doctor after all. All the bad "doctor" jokes I've ever heard suddenly come to mind.

"Doctor, I keep getting the feeling that I'm invisible." "Who said that?"

"Doctor, I feel so unimportant." "Hang on while I attend to this phone call."

"Doctor, I feel like a zipper." "Pull yourself together and let's talk about it."

"Doctor, there's a lump on my knee." "..."

Freakin'!

I was on the phone discussing a much delayed musical project when I gave my knee an absent-minded rub.

And I found it unduly lumpy! A little lump, slightly smaller than a pea, below the skin and not painful at all. But still, there is a lump on my knee. The guy with a fly in his soup has nothing on the "this doesn't belong here" message.

"Hi, Doctor, nice to see you again. How've you been since last week? No, no, I'm not coughing now. Actually I feel quite good. It's just that there's this lump on my knee..."

Sing it, Louis

After the recent haze, it's so good to see beautiful blue and white when you look at the sky. Thank you, God. Now, if only I had a better camera to capture it with... ;o)

Random mind

Went across the road to buy toothpaste and breakfast cereal and, finding neither at good prices, came back with...

"But you don't need strawberry cream-filled crackers printed with Hello Kitty," says the Voice. The good one with the brains.

"But look at the packaging, it's so cuuuute... the stripey solid coloured background is so retro. Like the Hello Kitty things Pop used to buy me from Japan circa 1983."

"You can't eat packaging."

"I know, but... but... it was cheap, even cheaper than the generic unknown cartoon character version, and you know how teatime rolls round and there's nothing to eat...?"

The Voice retreats, resigned. And now I can't tell which will give more of a sugar high, the packaging or the contents. Suckerrrr.

Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...

Ever wake up knowing what an anemone feels like?

I haven't.

Close enough, though, the sensation of waking up as if you're underwater. Everything seems detached from you. Sounds are muted, colours less intense, outlines less defined. You half expect every exhalation to result in a stream of bubbles going by. You blink and it doesn't go away. You think maybe you're just sleepy and when you meet other real people you'll be just fiiiiiine. But it doesn't happen.

Life is weird.