Archive for January, 2009

Spending My Unemployed Afternoons

January 27, 2009

Before I was recently became the Working Class Hero, I was the Jobless Jenny. I was basically bumming around at home, where I can get everything free of charge, where I can strut confidently to the fridge and i know that there will be Cheddar Cheese and Ruffles chips inside, primed for consumption. Now you will surely wonder: “Hello? You’re a 16-year-old on vacation. Why not hang out with friends and keep yourself busy?” And I will answer you with: “Because it is difficult to ask my mother for $20 on every alternate day, now that I am an absolutely shameless freeloader who does absolutely nothing at home.”

Well I do my fair share of housework and cleaning, but my sense of self-worth and dignity doesn’t permit me to badger my poor old lady for money to squander outside. thus, limited to twice-weekly hangouts with friends, i had to use my constrained budget very carefully.

And thus, with ample free time on other drowsy weekdays, I embarked on my Jobless Jenny routine, housewife-style.

After some minor sweeping and folding of clothes in the morning, I would eat breakfast. If was lucky I’d remember to brush my teeth. then it was computer time till afternoon. and afternoons meant this woman:

Before this period of unemployment I didn’t give a damn about this woman, only that she resembled my nosy neighbour, and that she was hustled off to jail, ala Paris Hilton. And that she had tons of money. Now as I was confined to my sofa set I had no choice but to watch the Martha Stewart show. It wasn’t that bad. It was basically about this Martha woman demonstrating her abilities as a housewife, Martha putting rugs here and there, Martha putting flowers here and there, and Martha cooking this and that. Martha also invited some celebrities to her show (most I didn’t know who they were).  I’d like to thank her for making my lunches a little less dull: You see, I would be busy stuffing instant noodles into my mouth while watching Martha make some exotic pie, thus for a moment making me forget that I’d been eating the same noodles for the past few days.

after Martha left there was a slightly younger, less uptight version of  her called Rachel Ray who would take over the TV screen. And similarly Rachel would invite celebrities over to her show, and this time I felt a little less alienated, because alot of them were has-beens like Rosie O’Donnell whom I remembered clearly for her Flintstones role. And well well: She hasn’t lost shape. Here she is:

Rosie ODonnell-SGY-000007.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To my utter disgust, I was secretly enjoying these cooking/lifestyle shows about middle aged women lecturing middle aged women on how to be housewives. It is interesting to note that none of these shows gave any attention to exercise; it was all about cooking food and eating food and yakking. No wonder housewives are (mostly) round along the edges.

A last highlight to my Housewife existence, which incidentally rendered me rather braindead, were the antics of the contestants on The Price Is Right. I enjoyed watching these hysterical people scream, cry and flail their arms in ecstasy as their names were called. Just look at silly human emotion on display:

Veddy nice. But alas; I’ve recently found gainful employment and that means adieu to all these silly people. I shall miss my stint as a braindead housewife though.

Travelling.

January 15, 2009

Dear Fellow O-Level Graduands:

The dust has settled. the hoo-ha is over. we have each gotten what we’ve gotten, and hopefully your tears (of joy? disappointment?) have dried by now. If not, it’s high time that you grab some tissue to dry your tears, to set yourself straight again, because you’ve gotta purchase tickets for the next train out.

I know of some people who are happy with what they have, who know exactly where to go next, cos they’ve got their route all planned out. then there are some travellers stranded at the station, staring at the train schedules but not really reading them. they’re in a mess, they’ve got their unexpected results in one hand, and lots of confusion in the other. they’ve got lots of excess baggage filled with fear and anxiety too.

maybe you’re like one of those stranded travellers, stuck in transit. given, you need some time to think about which direction you’re headed. but days have passed and you’re still pacing back and forth the station. my dear friend, you have to move on. sooner or later, everyone would have boarded their chosen trains to go their own destinations. what about yourself? you’re going nowhere.

but you forget that you’re a traveller, just like me, just like the rest of us. we carry our own luggage, no one carries it for us. we buy our own tickets. at each stop along the way, we meet other travellers and we make friends. and at each stop too, we lose friends. they have to go their own destination, somewhere where we cannot follow. does that mean we run out of the train to be with them? no. we stay seated until we alight at our own destination, wherever that may be.

right now, all of us have just alighted at the crossroads, including myself. I was with my travelling companion for 4 years, Serena Kuang, and we were standing in front of the train schedule, jostling, deciding. Where should we go? It would be nice if I could be in the same train as her, but I knew that at the end of the day, I was alone. I was a traveller seeking my own home, and hers was at the opposite end of the constellation.

I took the risk. I went up to the ticket booth, uncertain and afraid, clutching my little bag of things. I bought a ticket to Ngee Ann Polytechnic’s Mass Communications Course. a quick check at the passenger list confirmed that Serena was not seated in the same train as me, nor was any one else I knew. Of course, I reacted with fear. Who wouldn’t? there I was, back to square one, stuck with a carriage full of strangers, some smelly and some sinister, rolling off together with them into unknown territory.

But that’s the way things are, my friends. some of us may still travel together. But inevitably, we’ll part ways. While on different trains, the journey may not always be smooth: we’ll lose our luggage, our seats will get snatched, we’ll get molested (gasp!), and there’ll always be an irritating passenger who plays his Mp3 at top volume. 

BUT.

We’ll see places we’ve never seen before. Out with the old, in with the new. We’ll make friends with travellers sitting around us and in no time, we’ll be playing strip poker. erm ok, maybe just poker. we’ll become older, but wiser, and life takes a new, uncertain, but exciting route.

I’m packing my bags now, waiting to board my train, and all I see are unfamiliar faces around me at the platform. I see Serena in the distance, walking off to hers, and I wave. I’m alone again, but I’m beginning to like it. I can smell it coming: A new adventure, full of crap and shitheads (as always), and even more problems than before. But also with what will be (i hope) the best moments of my life.

Adieu, my friends. I hope you’ve got your tickets, because I’ve gotten mine, and I heard that they are selling out quick. It’s time to dump your old boarding pass into your luggage and get a new one. Go ahead. Buy the ticket, hop on the ride. Life moves on.

Bon Voyage.

Now I Know Why Kurt Cobain Shot Himself

January 8, 2009
Kurt Cobain, frontman of Nirvana

Kurt Cobain, frontman of Nirvana

I recently received a belated Christmas gift (thanks, Fred) and it was Nirvana’s Greatest Hits collection. I have always had a special fondness for Nirvana and their music, simply because their music was so raw and honest. Not your typical screamo-emo fare you get on radio today, by juvenile bands attempting to sound tortured, but stripped-down bitterness that soars above the music and into your soul.

I listened to the tracks late at night, alone in bed, beginning with “You Know You’re Right,” where Kurt hisses the word “pain” in one long, murderous breath, coupled with Krist Novoselic’s thumping bass and Dave Grohl’s angry drums. Over 15 tracks, Kurt chronicles the various setbacks in his life: a broken home (as vividly depicted in “Sliver”), a tumultous love life (in “About a Girl”), and the cloying mix of sarcasm and delusion that was Kurt’s inner soul (a bittersweet, unplugged “All Apologies”).

The standout track, for me, was “The Man Who Sold The World.” it was a cover of David Bowie’s song, but only a man like Kurt could connect with the despair and loneliness of the song with his searing vocals. He was nearing the crossroads, the climax of frustration and quiet defeat, where neither making music, shooting dope, Courtney Love, or pretty much anything on Earth could fill the hole.

And on April 8, 1994, Kurt created another hole for himself. This time, it was on his head. Kurt was found dead with a shotgun in his hand. Suicide.

It never fails to amaze me, how these rich rock stars with everything they can possibly think of having,still end up depressed and unsatisfied. While common folk get by with less than 10% of what rock stars earn. I can rattle off a list of tortured souls: John Frusciante(RHCP), Ian Curtis(Joy Division), Elvis, Sid Vicious (Sex Pistols), Michael Hutchence (INXS)…

For a while I was baffled by their reason to commit suicide. Then when i was slipping into my agnostic-depressive phase, i accepted their suicides as something brave, something peaceful and even beautiful, for life seemed so painful. But after getting back on my feet because of God, suddenly I saw it all so clearly.

Because their rock wasn’t the real Rock.

they looked to music as the ultimate salvation. they fed their hatred with more poison and channelled it towards their songwriting. they waited in vain for something, someone, to save them. at the end of the day, reclining in a posh Hilton hotel suite with an assortment of booze, drugs and women at their disposal, they saw only emptiness. it was all nothing. but they couldn’t find out was missing, and they took the easy way out.

For a while i thought rock music held it all too. I was wrong. for i was looking for the wrong rock. I failed to see God and his open arms, a father waiting for the prodigal child’s return. For it is written: “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18:2).

Maybe Kurt could have found peace at last if he read this:

“Come to me, all of you who are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke and put it on you, and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in Spirit, and you will find rest. For the yoke I will give you is easy, and the load I will put on you is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

His life was meaningless, because at the centre of it all, he chose to put worldly things like music at the top. He forgot that living for the world wasn’t enough; he forgot live for himself, for his soul. And once again, maybe he could have identified with:

“Then, brothers, let us leave the flesh (i.e worldly wants) and no longer live according to it. If not, we will die. Rather, walking in the Spirit, let us put to death the body’s deeds do we may live.” (Romans 8:13)

Now, if only someone could’ve shared these with him.

If you’re also going through hard times and you think, “Hey, If God’s do good, why is all this shit happening to me?” ,well, fret not. I was once like you too. But always remember: Life is fleeting. It doesn’t last forever. The world is not a place where you put your faith and belief in, because I can guarantee you you’re gonna be disappointed. people change, friends cheat, and as Murphy says: “If anything can go wrong, it will.”

However, there’s one person you can put your faith in, and that’s God. He doesn’t fade away like some rock tune. Live your life in the quiet confidence that He will work things out in the end, somehow, even in ways we don’t understand. Stop trying to understand stuff for a while; you’ll realise life is alot easier if you stop analysing, rationalising and arguing. Be still and trust Him in simple, childlike belief.

And then life gets alot simpler. And peaceful.

Rest in peace, dear Kurt Cobain.

Young Meat for Hire.

January 2, 2009

okay, that just sounds horribly inappropriate. but anyhow.

I’m a single, cash-strapped and pretty much desperate teenager looking for a job. any job. currently, i’m unemployed, unless you count freeloading off my parents as a valid occupation (i think it is).

however, freeloading is a nasty business, because your skin has to be really thick to be able to stretch out you hand (almost every day) and, ahem, ask for twenty bucks to spend. or squander, more like, considering the dire global economic landscape we’re in, blah blah blah. i’ve tried out this freeloading thing for about two months now, and day by day The Boss is slashing my salary by large amounts. why she hasn’t fired me, i don’t know, which makes me think that despite the poor working conditions and unfriendly employer-employee relations, The Boss is a kind soul after all.

But back to business. I’ve been trying high and low, going through the classifieds with a microscope, looking for some one to get me out of my situation. in this case, skills i’ve learnt in my freeloading experience come in handy, because i’ve become rather shameless in badgering friends for elusive recommendations and phone numbers.

“the wait is killing me.” Someone said that. Now i know! It’s amazing how every single  prospective employer chucks you aside with the words: “Give me your number, and I’ll call you back for an interview.” the minute i hear those words my heart plummets. right now, i’m (still) waiting for 5 employers to, err, “Call Me Back”. We all know what that means.

However, patience is a virtue. Please tell me it’s true! So I’ll keep looking and making phone calls. I’ll harrass people, I’ll convince people that I’m young, maybe not so attractive, definitely single, and more importantly WITH BOUNDLESS ENTHUSIASM TO SERVE OTHERS!! A PEOPLE PERSON AND A TEAM PLAYER!!! WILLING TO PUSHED AROUND, BUT WILL NEVER COMPLAIN!!!! READY, to PRODUCE RESULTS AND ACHIEVE DYNAMIC PERFORMANCE!!!!!!!!*

*Batteries not included.