Summer Sale.

LONDON IS CRAZY! Awesome awesome coolest summer sale. Read: 50% AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!! I WISH IM BACK IN LONDON!!!

And the stuff there are AWESOME POSSUM. AAAHH!!!!

Lets…

do something productive today.

Gah.

Shouldn’t have checked. Shouldn’t have been a curious cat. An idiotic curious cat and checked. Saw her in that dress and I have this strong feeling she wore it because he suggested her to do so. A dress similar to the one he bought for me, when we first dated. The one that I exchanged for another top, because I felt like I will never wear it lest, for an occasion.

I don’t know. I definitely don’t miss him. I don’t yearn for him after all his asshole moments. I hate him, such an egoistic bastard. I don’t know really. Maybe he is one of those bad memories that will always leave a bad aftertaste in my mouth, and trigger that horrible feeling in me.

Out of sight, out of mind. *chants*

Detox.

AAARGH!

I’ve gained weight, thanks to all the cakes, snacks and late night meals. Does this mean, I have to stop hanging out till late?

GAH!

One Wish.

I want to bling out all my clothes and shoes and watches and everything. I love BLINGS!

Breakfast.

Gym session was awesome. Am craving for oatmeal, yoghurt, bagels, croissants, and a tall glass of fresh orange juice. Prolly gonna go downstairs and grab some. Don’t really want to eat in public, just wanna hide in my room.

American Coffee.

The Americans love their coffee. And I mean, LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE their coffee. Breakfast with free flow of coffee. That spells heaven to me. However, I don’t fancy their mild, diluted coffee(hence, the free flow). I like mine strong, full-bodied and smooth, so much so, I can use it as mouth gargle.

0520hrs.

It’s rather annoying when you have to wake up, drag your butt to the bathroom just to pee and then realised that you can’t sleep anymore. That sucks ten folds, if you have to report for work in a few hours time. That few hours more of sleep is so precious!

Thank god for the 24hours gym. I made myself a cup of hot coffee just to perk me up. The sky is getting brighter and I should really get moving now before the gym gets crowded. I hate working out when there’ someone inside.

Alone time, s’il vous plait.

Soo.

I’ve been on a disappearing act for far too long, haven’t I? Ngeh. Blame it on Facebook. It’s so much more interactive and user-friendly that having a blog seems useless.

The tropical island that I call home, is going through a major heatwave + humidity. I can bear walking around in Dubai’s soaring 40 deg heat just to get food but not here, when it’s 36 deg WITH humidity. No, thank you. But, all is well right now, as it’s raining! Hurray!

Just decided to type in a few words here, because I was feeling like one of those writers. You know what spurred me to have that feeling?

My plaid pjs and old navy white tshirt. It’s 10.54am, I’m at my worst, dishevelled morning look, enjoying my cheap but good coffee and waiting for my laundry to dry. Ha.

Roar.

A typical Tiger mum from years of education(and brainwashing) in a convent, she was a no-nonsense, honest to God ramrod straight mother.
Being the only child, the only apple of her eye, I was the living guinea pig for her to instil values that she deemed right, and now, I honestly feel that she secretly wanted to recreate herself in me.
Girls..and their playdolls.

After reading excerpts from Amy Chua’s book, I was greatly reminded of my mum. I laughed, chuckled to myself, and even nodded vehemently to her guerilla tactics in dealing with her children.

My life during kindergarten, was a lollypop, cotton-candy dream. All I did was play all day, and spent money on bubbles, potato chips, notebooks and pens. I loved to doodle. When I stepped into primary school, hell broke loose. Mum, the wonderful sweet lady, turned into a monster. It was as if, she gave me that period of time to be fat and merry, before she started her crazy ways of trying to educate me and turn me into some kind of prodigy. Yeah right.

I was a latchkey kid who was terrified of her. I was forbidden from watching tv or even to touch the remote control. I remembered, how I pictured that if I were to venture into the living room, sirens would blare and sent warning signals to mum in her office. I had to complete the stack of assessment books(she either ripped off the answer sections at the back of the book or she had it stapled) that she, lovingly, placed on the dining table. The house phone would ring every hour or two. She would always check on me. “What are you doing?”, “Have you eaten?”, “Have you done your homework?”, “You better finish up MY homework.”, “What’s that sound in the background? Are you watching TV?”

I remembered getting pinched, caned, and yelled at for being slow, dumb and for being an asshole. Yeap, she used the word asshole, whenever I was being a rebel….which was all the time, actually. Now, I’m sure some of you, parents, would gasp and shake your head at her for using such crude language in front of a child and it might cause grief to me and lower my self-esteem. Well, for your information, I was unaffected and heck, I didn’t know what she meant.

I had to memorise the damn multiplication table and she gave me spelling tests, while she did the laundry. I was also forbidden from joining the malay dance group in school because in her eyes, it was a waste of time and dancing would not give me an A in my exams. And she didn’t believe in wasting money by enrolling me in enrichment classes or courses that would develop or enhance my talents in music or arts. I was abit sad.

“Are you going to be a ballerina, when you grow up?”

“No.”

“So, don’t waste my money. You think money grow on trees?”, she snarled.

I was a late bloomer. Despite all the extra homework, I was slow and lazy, floating in my own world. Mum couldn’t understand why I was acting in that manner and why she couldn’t activate the smart cells in my brain. That left her in a state of fury. Books, pens and soft toys were thrown in my direction. My school bag was ripped open and raped and more books flew into my face. Oh, did I mentioned that I forged her signature on my Pets worksheet, because I did badly? I was that terrified of her. Of course, she found out after she looked through my work during the weekends. As a punishment, I had to write lines.

Everyday was a yelling match for her. Did it scared the shit out of me? Yes, it did. For awhile, that is. I would produce grades that were pleasing to her eyes, but she, of course, was too proud to admit it to me. Chinese mothers and their egos.

“80/100 for your test? What happened to the other 20?”

“92/100 for your composition? Why are you so careless?”

I knew she was proud of it, because at least she had some news to share with her other anal, brainwashed girlfriends, during their weekly tea sessions. Oh yes, the competition. Roll eyes, again.

“My daughter is taking ballet lessons.”

“My daughter scored full marks for her abacus test.”

Bla, bla, bla.

But mum wasn’t all that evil. I still got whatever that I wanted – toys, clothes, shoes. But what I wanted most, at that point of time was the INTERNET. I remembered how, during mum’s class gathering at our place, she had discussed with her former English teacher, Mr Fernandez, about it and he had warned her not to do so. Boy, was I mad. It had something to do with children, men and pornography. But in the end, she gave in. She had the password and I had to beg her before she relented and allowed me a good 20 mins to surf.

Mum, definitely burned all her energy trying to mould me into a smarty pants and ensure that I didn’t turned into a delinquent. To most of my friends, I was a prisoner in my own home. I was not allowed to roam around with friends, have playdates and whatnots.

She had no qualms when it came to beating, threatening and embarrassing me in public. I deserved it, anyway, for being such an asshole.

Mum didn’t care or even think that there might be a possibility that I would turn into an introvert or someone with a manic disorder. In her eyes, I’m her child and someone of her blood, must be strong and be able to withstand all the criticisms and healthy abuse in order to survive adulthood, just like her. She ruled my life, with an ironfist. She was the empress dowager. She was the Sauron of Mordor. See, old-fashioned Asian parents are like that.

Well, I’m still here. Alive and kicking. She has taken a step back now and let me run my own life. I think, she’s finally, letting go the chains around my neck, albeit rather slowly. After all the years of mental torture, she can surely be proud of one thing. Mum has successfully recreated herself in me. Family and friends will always say, “You’re just like your mum. The psycho woman.” And I, very well, know the good and bad in that comment. I laugh it off(and cringe on the inside), most of the time. Education-wise, like I said, I was a late bloomer, therefore, my academic achievements progressed according to my own pace and I think, she realised that, soon after and tried a different approach, by cheering me on from the sidelines instead of belittling me.

Looking back, I’m grateful that my mum was a tyrant. If she didn’t scare the living shit out of me and make me pee in my pants, every single day, I wouldn’t be…me.

The big question now – Will I educate my child, the same way like my mum did?

YES.

I’m a mirror image of her and I think, abit of abuse, won’t hurt. Tried and tested!

So, mum. Thank you.