Good Student, Bad Student

I used to be a good student. Not in my primary school but when I started secondary school, my studies picked up. My grades were good and I did pretty well for my finals.

There’s really nothing much I want to do during this period of time. My parents are sleeping in separate rooms. I hardly see my dad anymore. Mum seemed distant and depressed all the time. I had to study hard. I wanted to make them proud. I spent most of my time after school pouring over books and doing homeworks. I left notes to my dad on his bedroom door asking for additional allowances to buy revision books which he gave me.

Everyday, after school I made a bee line back to home. Friends would asked me to join them for games and such. But I always decline. As soon as I finish lunch, it’s homework time. Then right after that, I would take a shower and then it’s study time. There’ll be no tv, play, naps or outings. If I did well in my studies, then perhaps my parents will get back together.

My finals came. I studied harder. A month after the finals, the results were out. Mum accompanied me to school to collect my results. My was terrified. Cold sweats were beading on my forehead when it’s my turn to collect it. With trembling hands I reached out to accept it from the teacher. She smiled at me. Mum was beside me. I looked at it. It’s written in red.

I got all As. I looked up at mum. She was beaming at my results. I was overjoyed. I felt like I was skipping on air all the way home. Being a typical mother, she called whole world to announce my results. Ok maybe not the world but all the closest relatives. That night, I left my results on the dinner table for dad to see when he comes back.

Next morning, dad wrote me a note congratulating me and saying he’s proud of me. I was so happy. Now finally, we can be a happy family again. How naive I was.

A week after that, mum attempted suicide. And a week after that, dad ‘officially’ informed my brother and I that they are getting a divorce. A month after that, we were sent to live with our grandparents.

I was doing my secondary four and five in Ipoh. I just couldn’t concentrate anymore. I spend more time staring at the idiot box and my mind wanders a lot. Since then my studies went downhill. From top student, I became the last student. I didn’t care anymore. Nothing I do will change the situation. So why bother.
Why is this happening? What else must I do?

Mischievous Kid

I used to be a very naughty kid. Naughty and mischievous. The whole family have had their hands full with me. Of course when my brother moved in with us, the amount of mischief doubled.

You see, my younger brother did not stay with us for the first 4 years of his life. After he was born, the family moved from Ipoh to Kuala Lumpur. Dad got a job there. Business prospect is definitely better in the city. My parents wanted to settle down in the city before bringing my brother with us. I was only 2 years old when I came to the city. I never knew I had a younger brother then.

When my brother first arrived, he cried and cried and cried. I didn’t like him then. What a weird kid! Always crying. Because my parents were stranger to him, my brother needed a lot of adjustment time. The only parents he knew was my grandparents and great-grandmother. When he finally adjusted and settled down with us, I found a partner in crime.

My brother and I were always coming up with stupid crazy stuff to do. Once our parents were out for the night. Since 4th uncle’s family were staying with us we did not need any babysitter. (4th uncle is my mother’s forth brother).  After putting us to bed, my aunt went to sleep. My brother and I could not sleep. We were anxious for our parents to return home. We hate it when they leave us at home.

Now consider this equation. Two mischievous kids. In their parents bedroom. With no adult supervision. Lots of grown up stuff lying around to explore. All that equals one big headache. The first thing we went through was our mum’s dressing table. We discovered lots of facinating stuff. One thing that puzzled me was why mum keeps so many different shades of brown colour pencils and some funny looking crayons in her drawer.

Not being any wiser, my brother and I proceeded to try out the new colouring tools. Since we don’t have papers to colour on, we started with the bedsheets. The colour of the flowers on the bedsheet were a bit too dull for our taste. We really enjoyed ourselves. My brother and I have never sat still for this long before. It was a great time together. Until mum came home.

Mum was still talking to dad when they walked in. They saw us and froze. Then they saw the bedsheets. Mum’s eyes widen. Dad was gaping. Then and only then did we realised we did something really bad. All hell broke loose.

Mum was screaming. Dad was scolding. Then mum disappeared and returned with the dreaded cane in her hands. With the expertise of a swashbulking musketeer, mum wielded her cane and dealt those dreaded blows. My brother and I were running screaming all over the room. Dad guarded the door so that we could not escape. Thinking back now, it must have looked like a cook trying to catch an escaped chicken for slaughter.

Uncle and aunt woke from the commotion. Unfortunately they did not side with us after seeing the damage. I thought it was a masterpiece. The bedsheet do look better with the vibrant colours. Oh well, everyone’s a critic.

The next day mum sent the bedsheets to the laundromat. When she came back, she told us that even the lady at the laundromat said we were extremely naughty. My brother and I was only half paying attention. We were already schemeing our next mischief.

Ah… the good old days of innocence.

Some Background

Ok. I’m going to try to stuff my past 16 years into a short paragraph. No mean feat I tell you. So I now opt to do it via the ever useful bullets method.

• Grew up in the city.
• Parents divorced while still in junior high.
• Neither parents got custody of both my brother and I. Don’t ask why. I don’t know.
• Moved up north to stay with my grandparents.
• Grandparents had the time of their life trying to raise 2 city kids who have nothing but complains about how horrible ‘hometown’ is.
• Graduated from college and got a job in a bank.
• Lost 5 grand overpaying some customer. Had to foot the losses. Poor me. Literally.
• A month later lost another 1 grand. Got fed up. Asked dad for help to settle the $$. Resigned.
• Moved back to the city and worked as a systems engineer. Yes, I graduated with a diploma in computer science. How I end up in the bank, I’ll never know.
• 2 years later, with the help of mommy dearest and some support from dad, saw myself through college again to get a degree.
• Mom getting old. Has this need to be with her sons in her old age. Decided to move in with me. I didn’t want to but felt pressured.
• 1st 3 months was ok. Then all hell broke loose.
• Had on and off cold war with each other. Finally, one fine day, she had a minor stroke.
• Forced to retire, the whole household expenditure fell on me. Again, poor me. Literally.
• Today: mum still retired. Me still poor but managing. And sadly, still very much single.

There you go. That basically sums up my life. I’ll elaborate in future posts. But now I need to sleep.

Quick Intro

I’m a guy who is pretty lousy with words. Spoken words that is. I have no problem writing down what I’m thinking or how I feel but to express them in words is like asking me to walk a tightrope. Hence the blog.

I’m an average middle-income single guy whose mother just moved in with him. Ok, maybe not just, it’s been 3 years now. I’ve been living the bachelor life for the past 10 years right after high school when my parents separated. I moved to the city and became a city boy.

3 years ago, my aging mother who has been living all alone decided to move in with me. Being the filial elder son (I have a younger brother) who is brought up in a traditional asian culture, I welcomed her. Little did I know that that was the last time I ever known freedom.

Here’s a journal of the journey from that time moment on.