Conversation

Boy: Do you know how to play “The Entertainer”?

Aaron: Yes

Boy: Can you play it?

Aaron: Erm, I do not have the piano scores (“Actually, I can, but you see I am taking my precious break now and unless you are blind, I am trying to read a book here”)

Boy: I can play without the scores

Aaron: I guess that’s great.

Boy: You want me to play it for you?

Aaron: Erm, no, it’s okay.

Boy: It is not allowed right?

Aaron: Yeah.

Snippets

1. While in the train, I noticed a Chinese guy talking over his mobile phone. Then it seemed his phone conversation was disrupted abruptly. A split second later a ringing tone – that sounded rather like the tone of an office telephone – was heard coming from his back pack. I was totally nonchalant about it, until he unzipped his bag and pulled out a phone handle with a coiled cord attached to it! My jaw dropped instantly, and so did the other passengers’. As much as I wished to maintain my calm composure, I think I lol-ed and it is unfortunate that he caught a sight of my lol facial expression, which made him a little shy. But for the rest of the journey he continued to chat his way on his “mobile telephone”, much to the amusement of those around him. Somehow, such gimmickry reminded me of the typical Stephen Chow movie.

5 Feet 9

Today I realized I was only 5 feet 9.

For much of my teenage years, I was largely unpertubed by my height and had on numerous occasions assured myself that “everything will fall into place”, perferring to outsource my vertical accendancy – and those sleepless preoccupations – to nature.

I craved for 180cm. Or more. Nature gave me 175cm eventually. And if the last word in the previous sentence triggered an annoying blip on the radar of the most conscientious of readers out there who would spring their feets and advocate for concise writing and truncation of unecessary words, in a while they will see why that is necessary in aid of the understanding, and to put into context, the despair of this author. At the ripe age of twenty, nature dictates that there is little, if any, that I can do about my height. And so the pressure is on to forgo the dream, which I am sure shared by many men out there, to look like Kang Sang Woo – 6 feet tall and ripped.

Two hundred bucks later…

Last Friday, I spent a hundred bucks each on:

1. hair washing products; because my hair is so dry and tend to defy gravity when short, lamented my hairstylist
2. a new bag; because the old one is torn and thus fluffy on some parts, which is a rather unglam item to carry around while sashying down the street

As a thinking and reflective consumer, I realized that on both occasion it was the charm of the salesperson that motivates to reach out to my wallet. I arrived as wary, and cynical consumer, but I left with a self-confidence that my purchasing decision is worthwhile and my money well-spent. There was a heightened level of trust in the salespersons the moment they speak. I listened attentively and engaged in what I called a “temporary and willing suspension of scepticism”. The rest, is history.

Male Appeal

On two separate occasions, people were surprised to learn that I do not have a girlfriend. I was accused of not trying hard enough, because I play the piano and the violin (and recently the saxophone) and “girls have a soft spot for male musicians”, or so I was told.

My quick mental cogitation suggest that such phenomena, if indeed exist, stemmed from the cultural stereotype of these male musicians. The archetypal male pianist – so often perpetuated by mass media, especially in the form of Taiwanese idol drama or Korean melodrama – is quiet, introverted, yet expressive. He channeled his innermost feelings from his bosom, whether anger or joy, with sheer decorum and lyricism – through the keys of the piano. The same can be said of the male violinist, although “expressive” deserved an emphasis since violin is known to be the most expressive of musical intruments. I would also go as far as saying the male violinist emanates a sense of profundity, aptitude, and prodigiousness, given that the violin is said to be the most difficult instrument to master.

I know I had a huge crush on you, when…

1. My heart sank as I noticed you would board another carriage of the train.

2. I walked to your train carriage, uttering the “excuse me-s” along the way,  just to stand in front of you.

3. I was on the same page of the book throughout train journey, pretending to be reading while nailing my eyes on you. I scrutinized your physique, thoroughly, to stock up mental information to fantasize about being with you.

4. I felt a sudden urged to stand behind you and fondle the soft hair and the eyelids enveloping those cold, icy eyes. And gently touch those curl of lips, with mine.

5. I imagined how great we look together when I realized – after five minutes of investigation – that you did not have any ring on your fingers.

6. I felt inferior and disconcerted because you did not notice me, and did not seemed to be feeling the same kind of attraction that you cast on me; Should I spend more time tweaking my hair or sleep a few hours earlier to avoid those red spots on my skin or dress more fashionably to strut my virility?

7. I felt the air gushing in and out of my nostrils as you began to notice my book on my palm. Your eyes were scaling my hand, my abdomen, my chest, my neck, and then, my heart skipped a beat when our eyes met – twice, and on both occasion I quickly looked away like a shy boy.

8. I quickly walked towards the empty seat opposite yours as soon as I noticed there was one.

9. I was devastated when the train arrived at your destination, just as I sat down. I could only watch your back and sigh – with a touch of resignation, until you vanished in the darkness of the night.

10. I felt I was electrocuted, numbed, paralyzed, and crippled by the powerful arrows of the cupid, unable to do anything at all except thinking about you.

A World So Alien

Today there were no colors, only strong winds. The usual morning sky, blue and often diffused with golden shades, became gray. The houses looked ill, while the trees acquired a hunchback with their liveless boughs. The trees shivers and trembles, while the leaves hollered at the violent aggression. A few crestfallen leaves swirled past my lone figure, as if to ward off a cosmic scale apocalyptic day ahead. Somewhere near the horizon, I saw subtle glimmer of golden light wrapped around the pale moutain range. Which was where, I suspect, normalcy lived in exile.

It was a world so alien.

Late Bloomer?

A recent Malcom Gladwell article oiled the mechanics of my brain and got me thinking about the issue of “Late Bloomer”. Should I consider myself one?

I never deserved to be labeled “genius”. (And I am saying this because, as Gladwell put it, there is an underlying assumption that “genius” goes hand in hand with precocity.) In the field of music for instance, most established musicians of the day once were child prodigies who had shown great intellectual promises at a tender age. It is a not-so-secret ambition of mine to play Chopin’s Etudes with high level of virtuosity, but a quick check on Wikipedia (that by the way renders hope into despair) reveals a common pattern of the learning curve that binds Lang Lang, Sarah Chang, and the likes – they started learning to play their instruments at the age of three or four, by age six or seven they had certain skills, and by ten or eleven they already were hosted by the Carnegies and the Musikvereins. By twenty we called them virtuosos.

Merdeka?

August 31 – a day of celebration for “the freedom, the independence, and the progress that we enjoy”. Or so the “official” idea of Independence Day is. But, has it always been the case?

Supposedly Independence Day is the day to reflect on the effort by those who had contributed (not necessarily those from today’s ruling party as the school textbook would like us to believe) in attaining sovereignty for the nation.  But for generation – Y like yours truly, the spirit of gaining independence is beyond the realm of my experience. So what does Independence Day mean to the late bloomers?

Supernatural Encounter

My paternal grandfather passed away in 2006. It was a milestone for me – it was not about “the day I lost a family member”, it was about “the day I attended a funeral procession for the first time in my life”.

Sitting through the entire praying session was at best agonizing, but some of the elements, especially those concerning life-after-death is intriguing. We burnt paper house, TV, VCR, fake money (apparently issued by “Hell Bank”), car, and the likes. It was believed that by doing so the deceased would be able to enjoy these “luxuries” in “the other world”.