Rant & Raves

Quote of the Day - Do you love me because I am beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?

She turned her gaze towards me, looking deep into my soul with her bright twinkling eyes, searching for an answer, searching for a clue.

My heart skipped a beat or two, and I used up all my strength to squeeze out a weak smile. Even though it was a weak smile, from years of field training in sales, no one noticed the weakness in that smile.

She smiled back, and the twinkling in her eyes shone brighter than ever. She shifted her weight by moving her feet, her head tilted slightly and she looked up into my eyes again, with curiosity, smiling, and her eyes were forever telling during that moment.

I inhaled, not knowing what to do, not sure how to react.

I looked her into the eyes, seeing a beautiful soul and a wonderful heart, and I felt that I was raising my hands. I resisted the urge to grab her shoulder to pull her nearer, closer to my heart, and I resisted the temptation to kiss her softly on the lips, to feel her soft lips onto mine for the very first time.

She raised her heels and leaned closer and taller, and she smiled to me again.

I froze and my mind went blank while my heart skipped another beat again. I looked at her, wondering if she was sending an invitation to get closer, to kiss her. Suddenly there was an explosion of joy inside me, and I was excited for the possibility of being able to kiss her for the very first time.

She said something, but I couldn’t focus on the conversation and all I saw was her lips moving, but the whole world was silent.

I thought I replied something, and she laughed, and she was slapping on my shoulder. I brought myself back into the conversation and asked her what did she just say. She laughed, “You were not making sense. What were you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“You know, sorry for giving you the trouble,” I said. Her mom was complaining that we have been seeing each other for everyday for the past few weeks.

“Oh don’t worry about it. She’s like that and she will be fine.”

I turned my gaze towards the dog, and pretending that I was paying full attention to the dog but in fact, I was paying most of my attention to her.

She stood next to me, and nudged me using her shoulder, and she laughed.

We spent the next few minutes watching the dog playing on the grass, sniffing the scent left by others, checking out the birds chirping somewhere, and we talked about nothing but everything.

“You know,” she said, “I am very glad that you are here tonight.”

I turned and looked at her, mere inches away from me, resisting the temptation to hug her as tight as possible, feeling her heart beat against mine. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Well, you are like an older brother to me, taking good care of me, and thanks for spending time with me,” she whispered.

I looked out the main gate, and then I checked my watch.

7:05am.

A ray of light just broke through the dark clouds, and the air was misted with morning frost. But my heart felt heavy and I felt that it was too bright.

“Guess what,” I gave out a weaker smile again, “I am glad that I am here too.”

Pretentious was the game.

After another few more minutes, I waved my good bye and moved the leaded legs of mine away from her house, through the main gate, and walked slowly to my car.

The door close with a thud, and my heart sunk deeper and deeper while the ray of light in the sky grew brighter.

Brother. I hate the word “Brother” ever since.

~ The End ~

When I was a kid, my dad used to bring me to an indian barber shop for haircut. The spinning light outside the shop, the standard chair, the white wall, the basic setup, the blades, etc, it was all so familiar after spending years at the barber shop with my dad.

Then, one day, I took the opportunity to follow my mom to her hair saloon. The reason was that I had been going to the barber shop for years and it was always the same freaking hair style. You tell them you want to style it differently, like how you want to look like John Trovolta (just an example) in Saturday Night Fever or Grease, viola! Still the same old shit.

Another reason (very valid reason, I should add) was the fact that the hair saloon that my mom went to were filled with young saloon girls. Now, call it hormone or just young, I prefer to have all those young pretty hot chicks touching me my hair, like washing it, trimming it, and blow dry it. After the first time, I hardly wanted to follow my dad to the indian barber shop anymore.

Anyway, when I grew older only I found out that my dad didn’t really want to go to the Indian barber shop as well. Sometimes he would go to a hair saloon near his work place to get his hair washed and trimmed.

Okay, back to topic….

After I went to the States to further my studies, I refused to go to any saloon or barber shop, and I kept my hair long. After years of avoiding those saloons and barber shops, I managed to keep my hair waist-length. Yup, it was a feat that not a lot of guys can beat. But before I came back, I decided to cut my hair short.

And I have been keeping my hair short. But I always go to hair saloon instead of those barber shops.

Now, years had gone by, and those Indian barber shops were closing down and gave way to hair saloon. You can say that people are more picky and they want standards, professional personal grooming and all that, but we cannot deny that it is not easy to find an Indian barber shop nowadays.

Until yesterday. When I was at Kota Damansara, I saw an Indian barber shop, and only RM10 per hair cut! Wooohooo!

I was contemplating to go near and find out more, but from far away I could see that the setup is still the same as 20 odd years ago. Then I saw a brand new BMW 525i stopped near me, and a middle age guy came outLike Phua Chu Kang says, “Don’t play play ah.”

Anyway, I didn’t get my haircut there, but I do plan on getting my haircut at that India barber shop (Oi! Only RM10 per haircut OK???) before weekend so that if anything goes wrong, at least I still have the weekend to salvage my hair and do some damage control.

I believe that it will be good to visit that shop, because those were the kind of place I used to grow up. Right now, a sense of security and familiarity is good for me.

When I was a kid, my dad decided to take me to fishing trips as part of training to make me a better person. No, it wasn’t about killing the fish or something, but learning to be patience and stuff like that. Furthermore, we used the father-and-son moment for bonding our relationship.

We used to wake up early in the morning to go to some remote village area to fish, and sometimes the fishing session could last hours and hours and by the time we got home, it was around late evening and my mom would prepare to cook the catch we got. Unfortunately, sometimes when the moon and the earth are not aligned, we couldn’t catch a thing but we would still go home happy and my mom would put those ingredients she prepared earlier to cook the fish away. (Err.. no, that was a time when there was no mobile phone, so we couldn’t call back to tell her if we got anything)

Then things changed.

I was very busy during my high school life because of the stupid school schedule (Monday to Friday from 740am until 4pm, and Saturday from 740am until 1pm), and then there are lots of activities, like tuition, sports, and etc. So I didn’t have the time, and then I started to go into the rebellious phase of my teenage life, and I didn’t want to join my father the fishing trip. After few more years, I went to U.S. to further my studies, and I practically forgot that I used to fish.

Not long ago, before Chinese New Year, my family members were cleaning the house and they dug out the fishing rods and the reels from the storage area. They asked me if I still wanted them because if not, they would throw them away.

I looked at the rods and reels, and those fond memories of father-and-son team sitting like an idiot at some lake-side waiting for the fishes to bite the bait came back to me. I told them that I wanted the fishing rods and reels, so they put them in my room for me to clean them up.

The rods showed signs of aging because those rods had been with me for more than 20 years. I wiped them clean, put them together, and looked at them for quite a long time, to remember the time when I used to fish with my dad. And then I took the reels, took out the fishing lines (which was in a really bad shape), dismantled them, wiped off the dust, spider web, hairs and other stuff, and applied some grease to the ball bearing and joints. Without putting the line back to the reels, I tried the reel and they are still in working condition, and while I was doing that, I remember the many battles with those big catches I got, and I smiled to myself.

I took the reels off the rods and kept them safe because I wanted to keep them in a pristine state and continue to keep them for many years to come.

Lately I have been fishing with my friends. I bought a new set of reel because I didn’t want to break those antique reels of mine, but I didn’t want to change the rod. Not now, at least. When my friends saw my gears, they were exclaiming that it was really old and ancient. I didn’t bother to explain to them. I want to continue using the fishing rods until I think it is time to change them. It has been years and I am all rusty in casting the bait, tying the hook and all that. But it is all coming back to me very fast because I used to do all that, especially tying the hook since my dad got bad eye-sights so he taught me how and then asked me to do all that for him.

Nowadays it is different. I do night-fishing, and I no longer require to bake under a hot sun waiting for the fishes to bite the bait, like how my father and I used to do. But when my hands were on the rod and casting the bait out, it was almost like I went back to the old times and I could feel my father watching over me, accompanying me while I was sitting there waiting. That’s why sometimes when I didn’t get anything for one whole night, I didn’t really care. But it would be good to fight a battle with a big fish like how we used to do.

But the biggest difference is that nowadays whenever I fish, I don’t take the fish back. I would unhook the fishes and put them back into the pond so that they could survive. I don’t enjoy killing the fishes, but I do enjoy the process of getting them, including the waiting, the fighting, the reeling, and the excitement.

Sometimes sitting there, waiting, I would use the opportunity to calm myself down, to think, to strategize, or just to dream. That’s the good thing about night fishing because it was cool, very quiet and dark, so I won’t be distracted by the scenery or anything. I will just look at the pond, sometimes mind drift to thousands of miles away,not doing anything and only react when the fishes started to take the bait and pulled.

And I think that when I have a son or daughter, I will teach them how to fish, just like how my father used to teach me, and to spend time together with them for bonding and communicating.

But goddamnit. It has been years and I still miss you, dad.