Fire in the water

“Dad, I’m off to Yusuf’s. as usual.” I texted him.  Every Tuesday I would go to Yusuf’s for tutoring from 3 to 5pm. This is an advantage of being the smart kid, not only people know you, but the parents actually pay you to teach their kids! Though, I’ve quit tutoring Yusuf and friends last week. I figure, it’s time to be serious with my choice of life, so I enroll myself in the prestigious Yamaha Music School. I take up New Electone Study Course for a year, which I have to pay RM399 for a term. That’s a lot of money for a teenager but thanks for the money I got from tutoring and working at the KFC during last year school holidays, I am able to pay the fees. So, basically, I lied to my father about going to Yusuf’s and I secretly going to Yamaha Music Course. To be honest, I don’t feel any sense of guilt. I actually feel very…..content. It feels like I am a grown man living on his own. Independent. No expectation to reach, just ambition, my ambition. I take a bus to the Yamaha School. I waited for the bus an hour for a 20 minutes journey to the school. Public transport is one of the many problems in Malaysia, but for the love of music, I am ever ready.

The 3 hour long lesson ended, but it felt like it has only been an hour long. ‘Damn, I’m hungry.’ I straight away went to the mamak stall and order my food and drinks. While sipping my drink, a girl suddenly sit in front of me. What the hell? “Hai. I’m Ivy.” She said. “Hye, I’m Kay.” I said. She is a very interesting girl, not beautiful, but interesting. She has her nail polished grey in colour, wearing all black, with a red beanie loosely put on her head while holding a violin case. Violinist….awesome.

Ivy          : So, you study there too, huh? *while pointing at the Yamaha School*

Kay         : Yea, I took up New Electone Course. So, I guess you study violin?

Ivy          :Yea, it’s my first love.

Kay         : No offence, but looking at your dressing style, you look like a girl who can rock an electric  guitar or drums. Most of the violinist are very classy and elegant but you….you are more like a gothic violinist. Hahahahaha..

………………..I’m laughing.She’s not………………………..

Ivy          : Yea, you’re not the first to say that. So, you mind if I join you?

Kay         : No, absolutely. Mamak! Order!

45 minutes later………

Ivy checks her bag to find her purse as she’s leaving. Then, she said,

Ivy          : oh shit, I left my purse. Damn it!

‘oh hell no you gonna make me pay for your meal’ I thought to myself. I just sit there silently, hoping that she would find any scrap of money on her torn-jean pocket.

5 minutes went by and she still could not find any money on any of her pockets. Now, she’s making a baby face. I know what coming up next. In the most feminine voice, she said “can you please pay for my meal. I swear next week I’ll pay you back!” When a girl begs you, with that voice, any guy would sympathize. So, I said yes. I ordered roti canai kosong and she….she ordered ayam tandoori with choc milkshake. Perfect. There goes my RM10.

When I arrived home, it’s almost 7pm and I can see dad’s car on the porch. I bet he’s gonna nag at will be asking way too many question. I walk with the slightest step, hoping he wouldn’t aware of me coming back home late. “Kay!” dad calls from the tv area. “ Yeah dad. I’m sorry I’m late. Yusuf just keep on asking me these really hard questions. So now, I just want to take a shower and…” Before I could finish my excuse, he yelled”Kay!” GULP! “There’s someone you have to meet.” I walked down the stairs and at the living area, I saw a woman wear a pitch tudung with a man.  A cute chubby little girl sits adorably in her lap. Oh my god. She’s back!

Fire in the water

I hold my breath and eventually I got comfortable with the circumstances. I open my eyes and see nothing but water. You see, there’s something about being underwater that makes me feel ‘included’, like accepted and firmly believes that being beneath the water surface, is where my real home is. I’ve hold my breath for a long time but still felt at ease. I don’t want to go back to reality; I just want to be in here even if it means to give my soul away. PPAAP! Someone hit my head with a fishnet. “Are you a fish, son?” I answered with a simple no. “Then stop behaving like one. Grab a book and study. Your SPM is only 8months away. Get a straight A’s and you off to London for 4 years.” Dad said. My dad, Professor James Ignatious Alkin, is a renowned economist that used to work with great Malaysian economist, such as Datuk Idris Jala.  He was the first Indian lecturer to teach economic in School of Economy London, and that is where he will be sending me. I am good with economy, in fact I’m good with numbers. I never got least than an A for math, add math, economy or even account. Though, that doesn’t mean I have a ‘thing’ for numbers. I really don’t. I have a passion in music, any kind of music and I like swimming. Whenever I feel like escaping the reality, I’ll play the piano or swim. 

 People say, you can’t run from the truth, you have to face it like a real man. So, I did and in return I got a deep chilling stare by my father. “Kay Gregory Alkin. 17years old and still living with parents but already decide how your future going to be? So, you want to pursue music instead of economy. Tell me son, how much a decent musician in Malaysia, wage for a month? Tell me.” My dad asked. I replied “I don’t know father.” With a cynical smile on his face, he said “indeed. You don’t even know the basic thing about being a painter and yet you dare enough to come here and say to my face about your idiotic dream. You think you are matured enough but you are wrong, son and it is proven today.” My dad paused. The world, well at least, in my dad home office was somehow looks scary by the time.  The silent broken with dad saying these hurtful words “If your mother is still alive, she would have been disappointed with you.” Without any hesitation I said,”if she’s still here, she would only want to see me happy, and the only thing that makes me happy is painting.” I dare not to even look at his face. He stomped the table. It sounded like a nail being hammered to the wall. Slowly, he stood. His big figure plus with a dark, rigid room filled with books, makes me like a prey of his. With a deep, husky voice he said, “Get out of my room, you insolent child.”

That was a month ago, but the impact will last for years. The discussion was short but it cuts deep in my heart. My mother would only want the best for me, and she knows what the best is for me. Unfortunately, she died when I was 12 after a 10 year long battling with cervical cancer. She was the melody of the house. She always played the piano with a broad smile accompanying her. She is addicted to smile. Wherever she goes, she always spread a smile and everyone will automatically smiled back to her as her smile is contagious. Rain or shine, she will always be the ‘sunshine’. Now that she’s gone, the house seems gloomy all the time.

I and my father always argued especially since we lost the ‘melody’ of the house. I always think it is because we have different personality but mother disagree. In fact she thinks the main reason why we always argue is because we have the same personality, which is egoistic and stubborn. We always know what we want and how we want it to be. She always said “If either one of you is more considerate towards each other, the house wouldn’t be like a battlefield! A fire can only be pulled out with water, son.” Sorry mother, but I refused to be ‘water’. In this case, I am the fire and it will continue ignite until I get what I want.

to be continued........

much better

it's better to forget you rather than to endure this pain


oh yeah, my fake smile is getting prettier and more natural. am  not gonna be surprised if one day my fake and original smile is no longer distinguishable.

keep on smilling even it means nothing. after all, senyum itu sedekah.

again, my blog acts as a diary of a black-hole heart. you can always make a research on it, but u can never understand it. you'll find nothing as this super-massice black-hole heart can vacuumed all sorts of emotions, feelings in one time.

stop stipulating. stop making hypothesis. as you will still find nothing. there's a hole and you can never find the perfect patch.

but still, i'm smilling. senyum tu kan sedekah.

izinkan saya mencarut

people lie.

they make you smile and the next day they hit you with a hammer in your face.

help?

yea, they provide that.

doubt the sincererity though.

what you expect?

they gonna cry their hearts out for you,

stop it man.

this is no cindarella or bedtime stories,

this is life,

if u fall,

listen to a few motivating songs and get your feet back on thhe ground

cause to be honest, you are stupid to be thinking everybody cares about your feelings

as they too have their own fucking problems.

yea they may say, "saba beb,ingat, i love u"

yea yea yea been through that inspirational moment

shit.

you are killing me with your fake smile,

now that's the best weapon in the world.

I thought i'm mature enough to handle this stuff,

proven wrong today.

excuses aren't acceptable today.

be honest for a day to yourself.

you never really care, do you?

shit.

it was not meant to be a question.

you never really care.

yea, whatever.

listen to 'fix you' by coldplay and you know what i mean.

syukur

syukur Alhamdulillah. for everything.

to be honest,

salam and peace,

all religion ever existed encourages we, humankind to do good deeds and be honest. But from what I've observed, honesty is to be scarcely found embedded in one's soul. As we grow older, we are being more and more hypocrite, perhaps because we are being more fearful as we aged.

Fear being regarded as weird,
Fear of rejection,
Fear to be ourself.

Kids fear less. But most of all, they are not fear to be themselves.

to be honest, I hate it when a person try to change me,
to be honest, I hate it when you say I'm too nice,
to be honest, I like to walk alone,
to be honest, I don't like to be asked for every step I take
to be honest, I like to  swear,
to be honest, I'm not a good driver,
to be honest, I don't care if I can live up to your expextation,
to be honest, I hate sweet talkers,
to be honest, I barely believe in friendship

on top of that,
to be honest, I love being honest.

oh yea, to be honest, I don't care if anyone is offended by this post.

umur saya tiga belas tahun

nama saya norsyafikah bt mohd nasir.

saya berasal dari kepong,kuala lumpur

umur saya sembilan belas tahun.

tapi, bila saya jumpa kawan baik saya masa zaman sekolah,

saya terus jadi tiga belas tahun.

mulut saya jadi macam machine gun!

asyik nak muntahkan peluru aje.

bila saya jumpa kawan baik sekolah saya,

saya lupa yg saya ni dah baligh,

saya lupa yg saya kena jaga adab wanita,

saya ter-over,

saya kelakar,

saya berani,

saya mulut celupar,

saya gedik,

bila dengan diorang, itulah diri saya.

eh kwn lama! korang wujudkan balik diri aku yg selama ni m'hilang.

eh tau tak! aku rasa cam kita 3 je wujud dlm dunia ini bila kita jalan sama2.

terlupa sebentar populasi dunia berbilion.

apa lg nak ckp?

aku syg korang la sengal.

Jieja hotstuff, blk cepat. aku rindu n syg ko tau.

yea yea whatever, talk to the hand.

bye sayangs.