Ramblings

March 3rd, 2006» Another Funeral

- 4:09 pm

I shall quote a sentence from the book, “How We Die” by Sherman B. Nuland. It says “Many poets, essayists, chroniclers, wags, and wise men write often about death but have rarely seen it.”

Well I havn’t witness death. Nevertheless, in a short span of less than 3 months, I’ve been to 2 funerals this year. The first was of my cousin, whom I’m closer to, who passed away after lying unconsciously in hospital for months due to some heart illness she had all along. The latter was of my fifth aunt’s husband, whom I was only told that he commited suicide.

Till today, I can still distinctly remember the first ever funeral I’ve been to, my grandmother’s in Malaysia, eventhough I was still very young(probably around 5 or 6 years old). I was crying badly despite the funeral being the only memory I had of my grandmother. My mother was tearing too. And, I remember trying to cheer my mother up while being overwhelmed by tears myself. Honestly, I had no idea why I was so upset then as I was never even closed to my grandmother. Perhaps, it’s the intensive mournful atmosphere that made me cried.

So, as I was saying, I was at the funeral of my fifth aunt’s husband just yesterday. It’s very different from my cousin’s. Everything was very solemn as it’s a christian funeral and I do feel rather uncomfortable to be there. I hope all would be fine for my aunt’s family soon.

By the way, while I’m there, I saw one of the maths tutors from my school at the funeral too. Soon, I found out that he knows my cousin. I did not greet him as he probably wouldn’t recognise me anyway.

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February 19th, 2006» Restricted Comfort

- 7:20 pm

I really hate having to work under the watchful eyes of people. I don’t feel comfortable, at all, doing my tutorials or studying when others are present. That’s one reason I was against renting out the room.

For several months, I’ve been doing my assignments in the living room because I no longer have my own room. My father now sleeps in the room that was once mine. However, the living room now is also often occupied by the tenants to watch the television show. I often ended up doing my tutorial, at around 9pm, when they sleep.

This has been bothering me for as long as the tenants first moved in. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to share my thoughts with any of my family members yet as they would think I’m procrastinating anyway. I had several disagreements with my mother over the room before as well. I couldn’t believe my parents would take away my room and have not taken my needs into considerations at all. And now, they just left me with absolutely no private space in the house.

Argh. I really need some place to study and do my work. I also need some space where I know I can be left alone at times.

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February 5th, 2006» Go Eat! Go Eat!

- 8:21 pm

“Go eat, boy,” that’s what my mother would say when dinner’s ready.

I normally would reply with a nod or okay her, acknowledging that I’ve heard her. She, however, never seems to catch that.

If I am watching the television and she calls for dinner, I will wait for commercial break before making my way to the kitchen. If I am doing my tutorials, maths for example, I will finish up my sum before advancing to grab my meal. Or if I’m using the computer, I will, firstly, finish up my business. I will, as always, give her my acknowledgement. Nevertheless, if I don’t jump into having my meal immediately, she will make sure that I can’t carry on doing whatever I’m doing in peace.

“Go eat!” she would shout soon after the first call.

Expressing my stand more explicitly this time, “Okay, let me finish my stuffs.”

“Go eat!” she repeated, much louder this time, few minutes after my reply, “before the food turns cool!”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming! Let me finish up my thing first!” I responded, impatiently, while rushing to complete my task.

And if my father is in the living-room, she would ask so loudly, making sure my father could hear, for me to ask my father to have dinner. I mostly just ignore my mother on this one.

After going ahead to have my dinner, my mother will then carry out the same operation on my sister if she’s at home.

At times, I get a bit too irritated that I shouted back. She would, then, berate me for raising my voice. Should I point out that she’s raising her voice too, she would refute that she didn’t.

If you think she just wanted the family to have dinner together, my mother eats in her room while watching television programme after grabbing her meal.

I understand and I really do appreciate her intention. I also respect her a lot. However, I cannot help but not agree with how she works sometimes.

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