Rantglass - because that's how things are.

So close.

So close.
It’s too much of not enough.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the DovesThe Last Broadcast still sitting safely on the rack. Snatched it up immediately and bought another CD – Silverchair’s Diorama, and it all came up to RM70 – sponsored by my parents. The Chemical BrothersCome With Us was staring back at me dejectedly, mirroring my face – but I could not bring myself to get another CD just yet. It will have to wait.

The shopping mall had a Malaysian Cultural Dance performance by kindergarten students. There was quite a big crowd made up of anxious parents and teachers, all geared up to witness the children’s dances. The kids had bewildered and excited looks painted on their faces – they looked so innocent in their bright and colourful costumes, talking animatedly and trying to stay calm while the teachers struggled to straighten their clothes and put make-up on them. Somehow the children looked comical while they were executing the moves they had memorised and practised all this while.

It reminded me of my kindergarten and ballet classes days – oh, the concerts I had to endure back then! I was really dolled-up that time and I supposed the idea of a concert did not really hit me hard. I took it as just another practice session, just that it was the one last time we were to do it – and in front of many people too. I remember one concert in particular, in a big hall (PJ Civic Centre, I think), where I clutched a cuddly teddy bear tightly and just followed the moves of the teacher who was in front of us and below the stage, while we were all onstage and basked under the glaring spotlight. It all began to change as I grow older and became more conscious of my public and social uhm, appearances.

I think my mother had originally wanted me to take up ballet classes so I would grow up to be more feminine, polite, wear skirts most of the time. Everything a young lady would ever be. I think I have grown up to become quite the opposite of what she had wanted me to be. As it is, I do not like having make-up on, or even wear sleeveless or spaghetti strap tops. My clothes are all made up of dull colours – mostly black and white – and no skirts to be seen. I listen to loud music, and am a bit too rough for my own good.

I wonder if did I disappoint her.

Details of this entry.Saturday, August 31, 2002, filed under Blogger Archives.
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