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Ahem.. test-i-n-g.

Ahem.. test-i-n-g. Ahem. I gave up.

I had joy blaming a buddy for spreading her flubugs over to me. Okay, perhaps not joy exactly, and that did sound so insensitive of me; but I kept thinking to myself – if she was not down with flu last week, I would not be rendered voiceless this week. Voiceless as in, yeah.. I had a bad sore throat, and all I have been doing much of today is just wave around, nod politely, and smile knowingly at whatever people have got to say – besides clearing my throat for the thousandth time and coughing like some frail old woman. Just this morning, I was writing furiously on a piece of paper as a form of communication with my roommate (who laughed at me, bah – wait until I spread my germs over to her!).

I could get pretty pissed off for having to be made to talk even in such.. undesirable conditions, when all I wanted to do was to not emit any other sound from my throat and stay quiet for the whole day. It was not meant to be, though – people kept adding me into their conversations and bombard me with questions which I just can not snake out of – lest I be called as Miss Arrogance or the-girl-with-the-firey-temper. Fortunately, I am not in school anymore – whereby the teachers simply love to make eye contact with me, then proceed to point me out from the thirty odd other students to answer their questions (actually, I almost always managed to get away from answering their questions after a small gesture towards my throat, and a loud ahem to go with it).

Back when I was in primary school, there was this teacher who I never knew if she was just being extremely lazy – or she just happened to have a bad stomach every two days. I had become something like a slave to her (oh well, all prefects are treated as such), and was always in charge of copying questions and notes on the board, for the students to write onto their books. I had to do balancing acts atop a chair, sweating profusely, with a chalk on my right hand scribbling on the board; while on my left hand was a thick English grammar book – all the while, the teacher would be either marking the other students’ books or smelled heavily of minyak angin (medicated oil for headaches and stomach pains). After that, I would have to borrow someone’s book to copy whatever I had written on the board to my own book (the board was never enough to write everything – it had to be erased again and again).

It came one day when I was not feeling well – and the teacher was absent as well, but she left instructions for me to copy some notes onto the board for the students to write into their books. I used to sit in front of a boy who I enjoyed having foot fights with – you know, since we sit face to face, sometimes we would accidently stepped onto each other’s shoes – literally – in the end, our white shoes would have become many shades darker, and dirtier too. Anyhow, he noticed that I was not well enough and offered to jot down the notes on the board for the benefit of the other students, for me. Since it was his first time and uh, lacked experience, he was doing it in a rather comical way. I remember feeling so touched by his actions, but I now realised that I did not seem to have offer him a word of thanks for that.

I have not seen him for almost seven years, now. I think I miss him. He was one of those unfortunate guys who were ‘unwillingly’ associated with me – well, some people loved playing matchmaking.

By the way, Malaysia’s first blog community will be having their second (or third?) gathering, courtesy of Geng Jurnal – this time in KLCC. More details available here (thanks to Tok Rimau for the information).

On air now: God Damn Me, Filter (Amalgamut, 2002)

Details of this entry.Wednesday, October 30, 2002, filed under Blogger Archives.
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