Back to school
First day of the week behind me. What a struggle. Mondays have always been difficult, and dreams of a ‘Kev Monday’ can only be induced by alcohol as the ad suggests... At least COB didn’t persist on me going to ION if only for a week. That would’ve been a disaster to do something halfway and leave it for another job.
Ah that rare joy of a third year that’s so seldom spoken…planning...and a whole week of it…take the wingtips off, kick back and relax. Although with traces of TTL and TLU still lingering in the air the week doesn’t look to bad at all. Coupled with the oh so glorious win on Sunday I am absolutely in good form. As I have touched heavily on football these last few postings I will abstain this time round and save my enthusiasm for the return leg with Barca.
The old man wasn’t too happy with my lack of communication lately. With the not so successful results it was always bound to be a source of disconcertion between us that finally broke the surface on Saturday. Surprised myself by being surprised at such an outburst of emotion, I guess it has been a while that such a thing had happen. The time apart is taking its toll on both of us and July just can’t come quick enough. I have always found this barrier of writing to my father. Since my first day at Malay College at the tender age of 13 I have been inundated with reminders to write home and inform of my progress… from then on, to the posting to South Africa, followed by Bangkok, and then of my Irish getaway have the subject of communication been a thorn in our sides… my idea of an update being a 10 minute phone call every fortnight have never been well received and my utter refusal to correspond has been attributed to my inability to fulfil my true potential these last 15 years…
I do not fully comprehend my inability, or almost outright refusal to write to him. I get a mental block each time I try, even back when they were in Pretoria and I was trying very hard to be a good son. Everything from being rebellious to the desire of not wanting to be judged, and everything else in the kitchen sink has been thrown into the ring…but one possible reason has been biting me for a long time…an accusation of arrogance… of being too big for my boots and living in my own world of self-imposed magnanimity that I slight the opportunity to share myself with people who matter and only wish to help and see me do well… This is a serious indictment and if found guilty would throw me into an emotional prison that would forever trap me unless I take steps to remedy the long-standing issue. If only it was as clear cut as that. It’s a work in progress.
On a similarly serious note, it is the 1st of March. Happy birthday D although I know you won’t ever lay your eyes on this wish. Three and a half months to go before the all important finals that would be a very significant key to the next few years of my life. A key to unlock heavy well polished doors and a key to open magic Pandora boxes in my Wunderland. Study hard! Classes starts Saturday, no more sociable weekends after this ‘till June. At least I’ll have time to come back and catch the Norwich game.
Formula 1 is back this weekend. My fervour has long waned with Schumy dominating so momentously there is just not much fun anymore. Binx is drooling over Abg Toya back with a new team. We’ll have to see. Team Red Bull sounds fun. Was a big fan of Red Bull Sauber so it’s good to see them back in the fold, even with the old Jordan and the same Honda engine. If the results are interesting without a prancing horse at the top of the podium I might revert my interest…or else it’ll be just only my West London Blue…
Ah that rare joy of a third year that’s so seldom spoken…planning...and a whole week of it…take the wingtips off, kick back and relax. Although with traces of TTL and TLU still lingering in the air the week doesn’t look to bad at all. Coupled with the oh so glorious win on Sunday I am absolutely in good form. As I have touched heavily on football these last few postings I will abstain this time round and save my enthusiasm for the return leg with Barca.
The old man wasn’t too happy with my lack of communication lately. With the not so successful results it was always bound to be a source of disconcertion between us that finally broke the surface on Saturday. Surprised myself by being surprised at such an outburst of emotion, I guess it has been a while that such a thing had happen. The time apart is taking its toll on both of us and July just can’t come quick enough. I have always found this barrier of writing to my father. Since my first day at Malay College at the tender age of 13 I have been inundated with reminders to write home and inform of my progress… from then on, to the posting to South Africa, followed by Bangkok, and then of my Irish getaway have the subject of communication been a thorn in our sides… my idea of an update being a 10 minute phone call every fortnight have never been well received and my utter refusal to correspond has been attributed to my inability to fulfil my true potential these last 15 years…
I do not fully comprehend my inability, or almost outright refusal to write to him. I get a mental block each time I try, even back when they were in Pretoria and I was trying very hard to be a good son. Everything from being rebellious to the desire of not wanting to be judged, and everything else in the kitchen sink has been thrown into the ring…but one possible reason has been biting me for a long time…an accusation of arrogance… of being too big for my boots and living in my own world of self-imposed magnanimity that I slight the opportunity to share myself with people who matter and only wish to help and see me do well… This is a serious indictment and if found guilty would throw me into an emotional prison that would forever trap me unless I take steps to remedy the long-standing issue. If only it was as clear cut as that. It’s a work in progress.
On a similarly serious note, it is the 1st of March. Happy birthday D although I know you won’t ever lay your eyes on this wish. Three and a half months to go before the all important finals that would be a very significant key to the next few years of my life. A key to unlock heavy well polished doors and a key to open magic Pandora boxes in my Wunderland. Study hard! Classes starts Saturday, no more sociable weekends after this ‘till June. At least I’ll have time to come back and catch the Norwich game.
Formula 1 is back this weekend. My fervour has long waned with Schumy dominating so momentously there is just not much fun anymore. Binx is drooling over Abg Toya back with a new team. We’ll have to see. Team Red Bull sounds fun. Was a big fan of Red Bull Sauber so it’s good to see them back in the fold, even with the old Jordan and the same Honda engine. If the results are interesting without a prancing horse at the top of the podium I might revert my interest…or else it’ll be just only my West London Blue…
posted by ash raf at 10:17
3 Comments:
to communicate with the parents is always tough. but it is the only was to bridge the barrier that has been built.. I pray that you'll find a light to show you through the right door, bro.
all the best for the up coming exam. I guess I'll just have to take a back seat and see you and Joe become qualified accountants dulu laa.. me have to defer my sitting til Nov (uncle dan's request)
lastly.... go go abg toya!!! *lol*
When you get to the chat room, look for Tik (teecklebone) and ask her discreetly about A1 - the answer to F1. That is something to look forward to, too.
Will do pokku, dah lama tak masuk, will try to remeber!
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