It's one of those weeks again... where everything seems to be going wrong. It also happens to be the week I say my 'goodbyes' to my Form 3 students who will be facing their PMR next week. These 'goodbyes' are easier to handle since most of them will return next year (well, at least I can only hope). Some have already told me they won't be coming back to my class next year, although they never really tell me why. It leaves me with a saddened heart... it makes me feel as if I'm not good enough.
You'd think I'd be used to facing these short-term goodbyes by now but I don't think I can ever get used to it. I will really be facing an uphill battle in November when my Form 5 classes graduate 'cause then it's 'goodbye' forever. Yeah, some will say they will come visit from time to time. Some will say they will ask me out for dinner when they're free. Well, for the past 8 years, experience has told me that 'Actions Speak Louder Than Words.' Of the many who have proudly boasted they will be my good friends, well, less than 10 percent actually do what they promise. I would rather they not promise me anything.
And so my week started as such. A simple promise from one of my ex-students whom I count as a true friend, was broken even before I had a chance to respond. We were supposed to watch a movie together. Nowadays, it's hard for me to find the time or the friends to watch a movie with. So, I value these moments very much. Perhaps she didn't know that I had rejected other people's invitations to watch that movie since I had promised her. Perhaps watching a movie isn't such a big deal to her, as it is to me. On the day I so badly needed to be with a good friend, to watch a movie that would make me laugh despite my tears inside, I found myself abandoned, alone and awake.
Then comes one of my favorite classes of the week and a familiar face is missing again. This is someone I call my 'sister'. Someone I care a lot about but I guess my class is not worth coming to if there's shopping fun to be had. I really can't understand how teenagers think these days. I remember how I would hate missing my English teacher's class every Thursday night. Mr Gerald is one of the greatest lights in my life and my inspiration to be the best teacher I can be. I would try my best to attend his classes simply because he was such a dedicated teacher who communicated so well with his students. He was more than a teacher. He was a friend. And that's what I've been trying to be for the past 8 years of my teaching life. Yet, I have students who can't seem to grasp that. Am I pissed? No. I'm brokenhearted.
Already, my entire week is filled with that tinge of temporal sadness of not seeing my Form 3 students. I really could have done without any more sadness nor disappointments and yet it happens. Seriously! I feel like breaking something and screaming!
After all the 'goodbyes' have been said and the guitar laid to rest, I just wanted to make myself happy. For a single guy of my age, there's really not much I can do to make myself happy when I'm alone other than pampering myself with an expensive and delicious meal. So, I head over to a fancy restaurant nearby for some wonderful western steak. Well, what a nightmare meal it turned out to be. The waitress got my order wrong one after another. The corn came despite me requesting it to be substituted with vegetables, two sets of steak came when I only ordered one, my butter was taken away when only half-finished and I had to request for another one (I hate wasting food), my steak was more like medium rare when I wanted it to be medium well, some parts of the steak were inedible as it was so hard, my coffee came without any sugar and I had to go to the counter myself to get it. In the end, even my favorite dessert - chocolate ice-cream wasn't the least bit satisfying. Despite my complaints to the supervisor on duty, I had to pay the full price of 81 ringgit (service tax included). That's when I swore I would never go there to dine again.
And so it was... driving back home after a long day, tired... my tummy filled yet unsatisfied, my heart all but an empty shell... and tears of loneliness streaking down my veins... I am left here alone... abandoned... with only my shadow as my only friend... and even that, will soon leave me as I put myself to bed... with silent tears heavier than the rain...
Friday, 30 September 2011
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Somewhere In Between
I'm back. Yes, back to blogging more regularly (hopefully), back to Wing Chun after a month-long break and most definitely back in da club. *wink*
It's been a whole year since I last stepped into a club. Last night, I came out of retirement and burned the dance floor. Well, it wasn't a really big fire, not even a flame... perhaps just a tiny spark on the little spot I was dancing on. But nevertheless, I got my groove on and it was good to be back.
A lot of people have misconceptions of why I like to go clubbing but people who know me, know that I go there for one thing alone - dancing! I've been a natural dancer since my kindergarten teacher commented how I could almost move like the late great Michael Jackson. I still remember the song - 'Beat It'. I do not pretend to be the best dancer out there cause I know I'm not even close but what I do know is, I enjoy good music and a good time on the dance floor. It's never been my foremost passion but it definitely is one of my favorite things.
And so, there I was... with a bunch of college teens, on my ex-student's birthday bash. I promised her I would take her clubbing when she reached 18. It's taken more than a year to fulfill that promise but I was there, finally, in my dancing shoes... and it felt like I was coming home. It's funny that the last time I clubbed, which was more than a year ago, was also to fulfill my promise to another ex-student to take her clubbing when she reached 18. I reckon there'll be a few more such promises to be made in the coming years and I'm not complaining.
Clubbing is great fun if done responsibly and this is where people don't get it when I say I go to the club just to dance. For most, it's about drinking (and perhaps getting laid) but not for me. I don't like to drink (never been drunk before) and I hate the smell of smoke, so let's not talk about Marlboros. As for that little matter of getting laid, well, as honest as I already am - I'm not the sort to do that. Not saying I'm an angel or anything. Just saying, that's not my purpose in the club.
Chillin' out after some intense grooving on the dance floor, I watched from the balcony of the club. I saw all those teens jumping about, waving their hands like they just don't care (oh OH! oh OH!) and ladies shaking them asses up on the stage, teasing the guys with every move... and then it hit me - "my little girl", my ex-student, was up there having the time of her life. I mean, I know she's 18 but when I saw her being 18 with my own eyes, it hit me - real hard. She's grown up now. And to jolt my senses further, I ran into another ex-student at the club - this sweet girl I taught when she was just 10 and then from 16 through 17. I looked at her and she's all grown up as well, make up and everything. I guess she was more surprised to see me there than I was to see her there.
And so it hit me - I'm old. Well, I'm not that old but I'm not that young either. Sure, I felt at home, singing and dancing away but there were times when I looked around and saw all those fresh-faced teens jumpin' around, I said to myself, "Man... I'm getting too old for this." But when I get on the dance floor, I realize I'm not that old either cause I've still got my moves. And just to emphasize the fact that I'm really not that old, my ex-student's friends thought I was her college-mate! I'm not pretending to be young - I just feel young and I look young too! (Er-hmm!) So, I end up in this strange place of having been there, done that, yet somehow, I still enjoy reliving that part of my life. But if you asked me if I still have the energy to go on dancing forever like how I used to, then I'll have to admit that I can't anymore. I'm somewhere in between.
As she twirls and sways, her feet moving to the beat, her hair effortlessly flowing in the pounding explosion of rhythm... I see "my little girl" all grown up. I've never been a father before but I can imagine how it feels like. Seeing her there made me happy yet a little reluctantly sad at the same time. She's not a woman yet of course but she's also no longer the little girl who sat down in my class, with her eyes fixed on me as I taught her English and about life... no, she's exactly where I am right now... just somewhere in between.
It's been a whole year since I last stepped into a club. Last night, I came out of retirement and burned the dance floor. Well, it wasn't a really big fire, not even a flame... perhaps just a tiny spark on the little spot I was dancing on. But nevertheless, I got my groove on and it was good to be back.
A lot of people have misconceptions of why I like to go clubbing but people who know me, know that I go there for one thing alone - dancing! I've been a natural dancer since my kindergarten teacher commented how I could almost move like the late great Michael Jackson. I still remember the song - 'Beat It'. I do not pretend to be the best dancer out there cause I know I'm not even close but what I do know is, I enjoy good music and a good time on the dance floor. It's never been my foremost passion but it definitely is one of my favorite things.
And so, there I was... with a bunch of college teens, on my ex-student's birthday bash. I promised her I would take her clubbing when she reached 18. It's taken more than a year to fulfill that promise but I was there, finally, in my dancing shoes... and it felt like I was coming home. It's funny that the last time I clubbed, which was more than a year ago, was also to fulfill my promise to another ex-student to take her clubbing when she reached 18. I reckon there'll be a few more such promises to be made in the coming years and I'm not complaining.
Clubbing is great fun if done responsibly and this is where people don't get it when I say I go to the club just to dance. For most, it's about drinking (and perhaps getting laid) but not for me. I don't like to drink (never been drunk before) and I hate the smell of smoke, so let's not talk about Marlboros. As for that little matter of getting laid, well, as honest as I already am - I'm not the sort to do that. Not saying I'm an angel or anything. Just saying, that's not my purpose in the club.
Chillin' out after some intense grooving on the dance floor, I watched from the balcony of the club. I saw all those teens jumping about, waving their hands like they just don't care (oh OH! oh OH!) and ladies shaking them asses up on the stage, teasing the guys with every move... and then it hit me - "my little girl", my ex-student, was up there having the time of her life. I mean, I know she's 18 but when I saw her being 18 with my own eyes, it hit me - real hard. She's grown up now. And to jolt my senses further, I ran into another ex-student at the club - this sweet girl I taught when she was just 10 and then from 16 through 17. I looked at her and she's all grown up as well, make up and everything. I guess she was more surprised to see me there than I was to see her there.
And so it hit me - I'm old. Well, I'm not that old but I'm not that young either. Sure, I felt at home, singing and dancing away but there were times when I looked around and saw all those fresh-faced teens jumpin' around, I said to myself, "Man... I'm getting too old for this." But when I get on the dance floor, I realize I'm not that old either cause I've still got my moves. And just to emphasize the fact that I'm really not that old, my ex-student's friends thought I was her college-mate! I'm not pretending to be young - I just feel young and I look young too! (Er-hmm!) So, I end up in this strange place of having been there, done that, yet somehow, I still enjoy reliving that part of my life. But if you asked me if I still have the energy to go on dancing forever like how I used to, then I'll have to admit that I can't anymore. I'm somewhere in between.
As she twirls and sways, her feet moving to the beat, her hair effortlessly flowing in the pounding explosion of rhythm... I see "my little girl" all grown up. I've never been a father before but I can imagine how it feels like. Seeing her there made me happy yet a little reluctantly sad at the same time. She's not a woman yet of course but she's also no longer the little girl who sat down in my class, with her eyes fixed on me as I taught her English and about life... no, she's exactly where I am right now... just somewhere in between.
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