I den tit y
A few nights ago, i turned on this song(the one probably playing now), taken from The Clay Bird, a film by Tareque Masud. Aida had loaned me the vcd. (Aida pampers too much. heh. will talk about that some other time).
Being an ardent fan of raw traditional culture, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, as the movie showcased quite a few colourful traditions and melodious folk songs (including this one). Anyway my mom heard the song as she was nosey-ly 'cleaning up' the room (more like inspection) and she told me off. See i have always been listening to songs that are unorthodox and beyond society's norm(basically gamelan, folk songs etc). I really dont think she means i should listen to pop and stuff like that but be 'normal'. Normality is so subjective. Whats normal is usually just a standard, frequently with reference to the media, set by society.
She and i knew that it was only partially about the song. She mention something about going against the Quran. Well the story prior to this confrontation was a bit longer. A messy situation actually.
Sometimes we wonder why parents tend to fall into the bottomless pit of assumptions but all is clear when we realise that communication lines are not too well established among parents and offsprings. Will this, parents generally misconceptualise every bit of signal/evidence we leave behind, for their scrutiny either openly or under wraps. Thats how an ink drawing on one's arm, probably done out of boredom, could be mistaken as a tattoo, turning on the natural, built in alarm systems, warning of a possible involvement or association with gangsters.
A bit too much thought put into it yet i dont blame them. what you see in the streets, living proof of walking disasters. Its almost RIGHT to assume the worst. Justifying every askewed misconception your parents have of you.
Maybe it would help to talk it out. Definately an issue that can never be resolved, only minimised.
-------
Today after much deliberation, i decided to go to school, even after doctor chern agreed to extend my MC. Had an important Student Internship Programme (SIP) briefing, at 8am. Yes. What a torture. (Both the fact that SIP is on next sem and that i had to make my way to school before 8am -i was late anyway, as usual.Kena coloured okay.) my choices:
1st Nutrition
2nd Overseas SIP
3rd Food Service/Catering
4th Dietetics
5th Lab Service
well roughly like that. I'm hoping for overseas so it would be a getaway kinda thing. I dunno. i might not get any of my choices looking at my behaviour towards school. - hoho
-------
Everytime i laugh or cough, there would be a sharp jab at the right of my chest. Today i was practically laughing the whole time as i met with my schoolmates like Jas, and Mit who accidently tortured me through comedy. Maybe its also the medicine. Making me feel light and high, and all too giggly.
Nutty Nutmeg Phantasy
Pahlawan Putih
A few nights ago, i turned on this song(the one probably playing now), taken from The Clay Bird, a film by Tareque Masud. Aida had loaned me the vcd. (Aida pampers too much. heh. will talk about that some other time).
Being an ardent fan of raw traditional culture, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, as the movie showcased quite a few colourful traditions and melodious folk songs (including this one). Anyway my mom heard the song as she was nosey-ly 'cleaning up' the room (more like inspection) and she told me off. See i have always been listening to songs that are unorthodox and beyond society's norm(basically gamelan, folk songs etc). I really dont think she means i should listen to pop and stuff like that but be 'normal'. Normality is so subjective. Whats normal is usually just a standard, frequently with reference to the media, set by society.
She and i knew that it was only partially about the song. She mention something about going against the Quran. Well the story prior to this confrontation was a bit longer. A messy situation actually.
Sometimes we wonder why parents tend to fall into the bottomless pit of assumptions but all is clear when we realise that communication lines are not too well established among parents and offsprings. Will this, parents generally misconceptualise every bit of signal/evidence we leave behind, for their scrutiny either openly or under wraps. Thats how an ink drawing on one's arm, probably done out of boredom, could be mistaken as a tattoo, turning on the natural, built in alarm systems, warning of a possible involvement or association with gangsters.
A bit too much thought put into it yet i dont blame them. what you see in the streets, living proof of walking disasters. Its almost RIGHT to assume the worst. Justifying every askewed misconception your parents have of you.
Maybe it would help to talk it out. Definately an issue that can never be resolved, only minimised.
-------
Today after much deliberation, i decided to go to school, even after doctor chern agreed to extend my MC. Had an important Student Internship Programme (SIP) briefing, at 8am. Yes. What a torture. (Both the fact that SIP is on next sem and that i had to make my way to school before 8am -i was late anyway, as usual.Kena coloured okay.) my choices:
1st Nutrition
2nd Overseas SIP
3rd Food Service/Catering
4th Dietetics
5th Lab Service
well roughly like that. I'm hoping for overseas so it would be a getaway kinda thing. I dunno. i might not get any of my choices looking at my behaviour towards school. - hoho
-------
Everytime i laugh or cough, there would be a sharp jab at the right of my chest. Today i was practically laughing the whole time as i met with my schoolmates like Jas, and Mit who accidently tortured me through comedy. Maybe its also the medicine. Making me feel light and high, and all too giggly.
Nutty Nutmeg Phantasy
Pahlawan Putih
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