Amongst Other Things

I’d hold you up to say to your mother, “this kid’s gonna be the best kid in the world. This kid’s gonna be somebody better than anybody I ever knew.” And you grew up good and wonderful. It was great just watching you, every day was like a privilige. Then the time come for you to be your own man and take on the world, and you did. But somewhere along the line, you changed. You stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you’re no good. And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow.

Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what you’re worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that!

I’m always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You’re my son and you’re my blood. You’re the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, ya ain’t gonna have a life. Don’t forget to visit your mother.

– Line from the film, Rocky Balboa (Clip)

Warning: This is not an uplifting read.

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He spotted her.

She was standing at the corner of the train, just beside the glass panel by the door. Decked in a crisp, baby blue long-sleeve blouse; hair, dyed golden brown and tied up in a ponytail; she caught his attention when people were pushing their way into the crowded cabin.

For that few seconds when she shuffled in, he saw her face. He thought he was looking at an angel. Then again, almost every OL that he sees in the train looks like an angel to him. If there’s any consolation he had for taking trains in the morning, it would be these OLs, and those fleeting glances, perhaps reminding him about the sorry state of his love life (the lack thereof, that is).

So as he stood, trying not to breathe too hard so that the woman standing in front of him wouldn’t think there was a Darth Vader behind, he admired from afar. Yes, she might have fair and smooth complexion (adding to the archetype of the perfect female that any male would find hard to resist). Yes, she had stuff piled on her face to look good. But he knew there was no Photoshop in any of this.

Then, his mind drifted. He wondered if she’s married or attached. Then, he fantasised about how it was like to have her as … a girlfriend, a soulmate, a companion… (Note: Not activity partner). They (these thoughts) made him smile for a bit and God must have some sympathy for him at that moment because Khalil Fong started to sing his rendition of “Wonderful Tonight” on his mp3 player right at that very moment.

He was thankful for it. Just because Khalil’s stirring vocals drowned out the condemning voices in his head. His morning and start for the week (let alone the day) were not spoiled by the incessant condemnations that would rain at him in his mind (perhaps for days on end).

The train door opened. The crowd made a hurried beeline for the escalators. He tried to pick her out from the double rows of people making their way up. Then, he saw her again. It was the back view this time and then, he noticed the colour co-ordination – baby blue for the top and jet black for the bottom, including the high heels. She walked with poise. She negotiated her way through the gate with poise. She got up another escalator also with poise.

Never again he was able to see her face.

The lingering image in his head was her walking towards the people distributing MyPaper to the hordes.

It was also the last time he would see her.

He must be one of the last few on this island to have not caught some sci-fi flick that raked in the billions – according to a news report he heard over the Beeb this morning. The running joke that he had been boring people with was how The Dark Knight was the last film he watched in a movie theatre. It didn’t matter he has no idea with whom he had watched it. This is notwithstanding the fact that one of his co-workers had been reminding him every other day to watch the film about blue aliens.

To end that discussion, he would quip back with “remind me when it’s shown on Channel 5”.

So the torrent of recommendations from people to watch it made him uncomfortable. Sometimes, he was tempted to just tell some of these people off about they could just throw out an invitation and chances are they could choose who they could scoot off to some spiffy movie hall to catch the latest blockbuster, but not him.

Have they forgotten about the existence of social beggars? He would rage in his heart.

Over an MSN conversation a few days ago, a friend based in China commented that he shouldn’t be a silo. “Go out and embrace the opportunities!” his friend advised. “I’m but a loner,” he reminded for the umpteenth time.

There are many things he wouldn’t mind doing on his own. He found lunching alone one of life’s better pleasures, just because it would eradicate the need and possibly the strange temptation for people to talk about work during that hour’s break from it. There was no need for banter, off-colour jokes and the occasional small talk just for the sake of being with co-workers during lunch. Or worse, being put in a position where he had to reveal stuff about his private life (e.g., “What is the circumference of your girth?”).

He could walk into the church every weekend, sit at the pews and then shuffle his feet out two hours later unnoticed. He would choose to sit among strangers, minimising the need for more small talk. There wouldn’t be the usual delay and hanging around while waiting for people to do their rounds of catching up among their friends. There wouldn’t be a need to say how great his week was to people who asked, when he had the most horrid time of his life.

He could travel alone too. In 2005, he spent six days visiting the ancient temples of Siam Reap without a companion. From 2006 – 2009, he would make his yearly “pilgrimage” to Hong Kong where he would fade into the sea of millions of faces. In the day, he would wander around the streets of Mong Kok, visiting the Hong Kong version of Sim Lim Square, poking around the back alleys which may just be one step away from a gastronomically pleasant discovery, haggling with loud-mouthed youths for discounts on dri-fit T-shirts, and settling down for some early afternoon dim sum at restaurants. At night, he would retire to his hotel where he would doze off to those old black and white Cantonese films shown on the telly.

So, yes, there are tons of things in life he could do alone. But not watching a movie. The sight of the staff at the ticket counter cocking her eyebrow when he announced that he only wanted one ticket; the feeling of walking into the dark theatre hall on his own; the thought of being the subject of an innane conversation among couples in the hall about how this weird guy was catching a movie on his own; the possibly unhealthy practice of having to negotiate a packet of popcorn all by himself; and – this is more horrifying than the rest – having no one to dissect the film with after walking out from the hall; simply put him off watching a movie on his own.

If there was one activity on God’s good earth he couldn’t do alone, it would be to watch a movie.

They told him tales of angels, of heavens, of milk and honey, of people living happily ever after, and of places where the sun doesn’t set.

He grew up loving the rain and all of that bleakness it brings. The sound of pattering drops, the flashes of lightning and the gentle rumblings of thunder in the distance. He hadn’t an idea why he gravitated so much towards something that is totally the opposite of a peaceful sunny day.

Perhaps that was how he defied semblances of a normal child and delved into a world where it might have shaped him to be who he is today. And if anyone were to point the accusing finger at him attempting to blame anyone but himself for this fracas of a life, they could not be anything further from the truth.

Truth is, he was all ready to accept responsibility for how things turned out. In fact, he was happy to embrace it.

The hard part for him would be to do anything to unravel all that he had sucked up since he was that wee boy lying in bed during any one of those stormy nights when he decided he loved the rain more.

Slowly as days passed, angels, heavens, milk, honey and their ilk were so distant from his world that they became lies. And that was when the seeds of cynicism and skepticism on stories of hope, joy, love and all things nice under the sun were sown.

It could well have been vastly different, especially with kids having that tendency to fantasise about those que-sera-sera-esque things. It’s akin to the “what ifs” we have always thought about during the course of our lives.

Mind-numbling activities only make him oblivious to the voices in his head. They drown out all those voices, which mock at him about how he was simply the expired piece of shit sitting on the shelf at some forgotten corner of the mama shop. They start the moment these activities end.

But not the rain. They calm him. They bring him back to a time and place when he was simply the wee boy all wrapped up snugly in the blanket, moments before he would decide how he would grow up loving the rain.

It was a time when thoughts of the grim life of a man being held hostage to his hopes and fears were a universe away.

Given the choice, his desire would be to fade into nothingness.