Rantglass - because that's how things are.

Should you see me through...

Should you see me through, would you know me better?

Never have I been awakened by the annoying beeping of a Tamagotchi. My sister-in-law gave me one to uh, play with – long after the craze of having cemetaries and websites dedicated to these virtual pets have died down. Now, I have to admit that I religiously feed, clean and play with this.. thing.

Also, for the first time in my life, I was actually seriously considering buying a domain name and going for web hosting. Although I still have not solve the problem of doing online transactions – I am still a bit skeptical about it. Anyhow, it would have to wait until I get my own credit card.

“A pity; your mother wanted to doll you up, but you refuse.”

That was what my aunt told me when we were walking through the crowd, dodging the many humans conquering Mid Valley Megamall yesterday. My mother, upon hearing that, smiled wryly. So here we go again, I thought.

I know, I am not the person they expect me to be. Who would want to have a daughter ditching dresses and opting only for shirts and pants that comes in the monochrome colours of black and white – or on better days, perhaps shades of grey? Or a girl who behaves more like a member of the opposite gender? Or a granddaughter who only nods and shakes her head, hardly giving audible answers? What happened to all those piano lessons and ballet classes she had went to? Was it all a waste of money, time and effort from all parties involved?

Everytime my relatives comment about me or ask me a question, I give short answers, shrug them away, smile. It did not seem enough. They would wait for a few seconds, staring at me, as if trying to send me messages to continue talking, elaborate more – but I still would not say a thing and the atmosphere seemed a bit uncomfortable, the uneasy silence left hanging in the air. It would seem that they were trying to cajole me into talking and joining their conversation. But if they really care, I would rather them leave me alone while they talk among themselves – and while I concentrate on my fingernails, wonder at how low the ceiling could be, play a bit of Snake II, inane things that will help me pass the time.

It seems that I am more anti-social than I ever thought I could be.

However, it is quite common that Asian parents tend to not praise their own children. I have been questioned: why is it that she can juggle her studies and extra activities; but not you? Why is it that he can be more obedient to his parents; but not you? I cannot think of anything to say when they pointed out that my hair looked worse than a cuckoo’s nest, the state of my boring wardrobe, me being too stubborn. It was not meant to discourage, but comparisons between two people are so frequently found in today’s society. Will someone ever understand that we are all different individuals, with different thoughts, different perceptions, different interests, different personalities?

I do not want to be a wannabe. Sadly, we all are. In a way or two. Now, excuse me while I attempt to uh, kick some ass here.

On air now: Optimistic, Radiohead

Details of this entry.Saturday, December 07, 2002, filed under Blogger Archives.
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