Changing times

Zits Comic for 08/26/2009

This is the second time I'm home for the summer.

Somehow in the span of 7 weeks, a lot of things have changed. Bro is now officially a 9 to 5 office worker; There's this new (not quite creative looking) RM50 note around; Both my sisters beat me in owning a Radley handbag (Paid with their own money, shocker!! To think I've been saving up for one of those since forever and still haven't managed to buy one); An odd looking space-shuttle-type massage contraption has taken home in my parents' bedroom; And then of course, there's my parents.

They're not different in any obvious way, but they're certainly not the same.

My parents - like most 'modern' parents - are starting to catch on to the new wave of social networking frenzy. That may not seem so startling, times being what they are. But as innocent as Facebook is, it has become some sort of fuel for their recently-developed fiery interest in seeing us siblings working on tying the knot - my elder bro and I specifically.

Pictures, in particular, are the doom of us. For example, my parents stumbled upon a picture on Facebook of my bro and his ex at a wedding. Cute girl. A doctor. Dad seems to have a particularly liking to this delicate-looking lady. He keeps pushing buttons and teasing bro, who acts bored and annoyed, when i really think Bro actually enjoys all the attention.

"We're broken up. It's over." He tells us. "Can't you people cut it out already?" Man, he has no sense of humor when it comes to affairs of the heart. Or probably, with only him and my youngest sister (who is barely 13) around, he's an easy target and has, understandably, grown a bit weary of the playful badgering.

Now that I'm home though, my bro can heave a sigh of relief because the parents have shifted their ruthless attack on me. I, however, am more political when dealing with my dad's good-natured teasing. "Hey, that guy doesn't look too bad for you," he'll say, referring to a picture of a male friend he sees on my Facebook page. Who, him??? Hahaha, no way on earth is that ever gonna happen.

But to dad, i just smile. "Maybe," I say.

And sometimes, just to show how serious they are about this whole marrying business, they'll do something absolutely unexpected. Like the other day when Mom pulled me into one Gulati's store along Jalan Tunku Abdur Rahman to buy clothes for my sister. Once inside, she innocently asked me if i wanted to have a look at the bridal section.

"What for?" i ask with a raised eyebrow, suspicious.

"Just for fun," she replies casually, acting like normal people do it all the time without a second thought. "Besides, we'll have to browse through this section anyway some time in the near future. What's wrong with now?"

"Yes, you're absolutely right Mom," I try to humor her. "I'm gonna settle down eventually. In the next five years, that is." I say the last sentence under my breath, hoping she wouldn't hear me.

"Five?" My mom gave me this incredulous look of mock disbelieve, her voice a pitch higher than usual. Uh oh. Busted.

"Errr. I mean three," i say, with more caution this time.

She doesn't look at all satisfied with that. Dang it, this was going to be tough. I needed an answer that would both satisfy her and still be plausible enough not to sound like a desperate lie.

"Two?" I finally say, after giving a few seconds of contemplative thought.

"Yeah, two is better," she replies, as if i have the power to control destiny.

"There's really no point in waiting too long," she continues, although I've told her countless times I haven't anyone special (yet).

"The sooner the better. If not, all the good guys would already be taken, and you'll have no one left for you except con-men," she says.

"Oh, and ex-convicts," she adds, just for good measure - very obviously using terror to try to subdue me to her will.

I can't help but laugh.

...........................................................................

Just as an afterthought:

The only conceivable reason i can come up with for my parents insistence on me or bro marrying A.S.A.P is that they can't wait to kick either one us out of the house. Then only will they be able to renovate our rooms into a walk-in closet like those you see in the mansions of superstars. (Ha ha ha)

Or maybe, just maybe, they can't wait to start a new phase in their lives i.e the doting parent-in-laws, although i highly doubt this. (Another Ha ha ha)

Truth is, i have no idea why they want us married off. But either way, if i don't find my prince charming (or he, me) in the next 2 years, I'm absolutely screwed.

Bummer.

Drifting home.

Shikamaru died.

My old trusty sidekick, has left me. The one who lulls me to sleep at night; The one I wake up to in the morning; The one who constantly annoys me with his clumsiness, his awkwardness; The one I had come to severely depend on - has died.

We've been together for 3 years and just mere days after i decided to leave him, he dies on me. Never would I have imagined that my leaving could be such a blow to the system for him; that he could possibly die of a broken heart.

Oh, ever the hopeless romantic - my Shikamaru.

Those who know us may argue that what we had between us was nothing to brag about, and i would not even try to debate with them. Because ours wasn't a love story of any normal kind. Our relationship was nothing remotely romantic. Our meeting wasn't a serendipitous encounter like a Hollywood love story. Our paths crossed not by chance. Not by accident.

Ours was not a story of fate and destiny. Because I chose him. I wanted him. I travelled 100 miles to get to him; to hold him in my arms.

And people's random opinions can't change the fact that he was my first.

It's only fitting then - now that he's gone - that i would try to remember him for a long long time to come. No one else would miss him, I'm positive of that, like i would.

So goodbye my dear Shikamaru. May you rest in peace.

*This was destined to be a sloppy entry, with Shikamaru gone.*

Babies.

We were sitting at the airport cafe, enjoying hot cocoa and the bustling activity around us. Like i always do when in a crowded area, I started 'people-watching', a habit i picked up from Mom. My friend, slowly sipping her drink, was probably doing the same thing, only with more subtlety than i could ever manage.

Then, it happened - A baby.

"Look at that. Isn't he the cutest thing? Ohh, and look at his tiny hands," i said, a little bit too excitedly than i usually allowed myself.

I couldn't help staring, almost gawking perhaps. He had big blue eyes, the beginning of soft blonde curls, and those cute dimpled hands only babies (and really fat people) have.

"Oh, he's soo cute, don't you agree?" I turned around to my friend, who was unusually quiet. That's when i realized she was staring at me, not the baby.

"What???!" I'm sure i checked myself out in the mirror before stepping out of the house today. It couldn't possibly be something i said, could it? My friend was wearing that knowing smile people have when they think they've solved the mystery of the universe.

"Oh nothing," she said in a tone that suggests it was anything but!

"C'mon, tell me! We both know you want to, so spill!"

She chuckled.

Oh no. That's a bad sign - her chuckling. She never does that. I could already see this was a prelude to something I'm gonna regret hearing for the rest of my natural life.

"You remember three years ago?"

"No," i answered almost too quickly, too defensively.

"You were squeamish around babies. You said you can't stand them, that they're slimy and they cry, they scream and they poop. You told me you'd only learn to love kids who are your own, if you ever decide to have any."

"I never said..."

"But nowadays," she cut me off mid-sentence. "Whenever you see small kids running around, you 'ooh' and you 'ahh'. You stare as you walk past babies in prams. You have that weird smile plastered on your face when see a daddy picking up his kid. You've changed Izyan. You really have."

"No i haven't." Denial. "And no, i don't ohh and ahh when i see babies." Still in denial.

"You're making stuff up. You obviously don't know me well enough."

My ego has decided to step into the picture.

"I'm allergic to miniature humans, you should know that!"

I was fumbling for the right things to say. And I was failing miserably.

"Ha ha ha. I'm jut stating the obvious. But then again, whatever rocks your boat Izyan," she said, suppressing a mocking smile.

I hate it when she sees right through me and makes no effort to hide it. It makes me feel vulnerable, and i hate feeling vulnerable. Just as much as i hate being wrong. But with all my amateurish debating experiences, this was one argument i couldn't win, seeing how i've been caught red-handed in the act.

"Well in any case," I said with more grandiosity than intended "I still think kids are slimy."

She just smiled.

Pfftt. At least i had the last say.

Trust me, I'm a doctor.

It's been about 5 weeks since i started this job.

It's pretty simple really.

I pore through patient charts.

I pick up on whatever diseases they have;

if they've had any surgeries;

if they've had the misfortune of falling on their heads as babies.

I see if they're married, divorced or widowed.

I take note of how many children they have (if any);

or if they remained single to the ripe old age of 80.

I track where they live;

where they work;

the kind of jobs they do.

I take note of their mobile number,

their home phone number,

their work number.

I chart their alcohol intake;

their drug intake;

their smoking habits.

I'm only stopped short where their bank account numbers are concerned (unfortunately that's the only interesting info not found in thick patient charts, dang it!).

If i really wanted to though, i could con all these people with all the info i do have. I could visit them at work and blackmail them. Or I could call their families up at home and demand a ransom of 1mil to get their loved ones released from the secret dungeon under the hospital where i keep them chained.

But i'm a good girl, so i dont even begin imagining doing such a thing. I'm serious, cross my heart hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!!

No wait, don't do that.

That was a white lie. Okay, I admit I do entertain the thought sometimes. But that's just cos I'm forced into persistent slavery, working long shifts till my eyes become red like a zombie and my butt freezes flat on those awfully stiff office chairs.

The pay is bad, the work tedious, the handwriting atrocious.

So who can blame me then, when it's all in the name of science!!

p/s: My new favorite word is OXYMORON.