Tuesday, September 26, 2006

iF i SeE yOu aGaiN, i SwEaR iLL kiLL yOU!!

dear jess,

At 1.30 Tuesday afternoon today, I was about to get into my car on the way to teach at school. The care was parked outside my house. As I was picking off leaves of the car, which I had just washed, admiring it, I see by the side of my eyes and hear the sound of the motorbike with two men skinny, young men on the bike. Reflex tell me to get in the car, which I do and out of paranoia, habit and mostly by Gods grace I lock the car door even before starting the engine.

As I start the car I see in my rear the two idiots on the bike coming back my way, I shift the auto gear into D and once again something in my heart and mind told me to get ready to drive off.

One of the men jumps off his bike, and pulls the door of my passenger seat open. And as if I could see this all happening in slow motion, the only thing between me and my perpetrator was the door of the car, I hear the door click- as it remains lock. I horn, and ram my car. In panic im not sure if my car moves but he runs back on his bike, I drive and turn the car, perhaps subconsciously wanting to drive into them and kill them but in my state of panic I didn’t get a number plate or anything.

They leave, im left shaken, now, three hours later all I really want to do is stay indoors for the next twenty years. Its really scary and I figure they wanted to open the door and grab my bag on the passenger seat, or come in and sit next to me with who knows what intentions.

All I can say is that if I see them again I swear ill drive into them. However since this is the by far the scariest thing that has happened to me, drivers, women and men, regardless please be aware of your surroundings and lock your doors BEFORE you even start the car.

Thank God, who clearly protected me, my ever present help in times of trouble. thank God, thank God, thank God, cant say it enough..

Im gonna go hide under the blanket for a while and pretend that my world is a safe safe place.

yours shaken but safe,

Saturday, September 16, 2006

coNfOrM, oR LoOsE yOuR sAniTy. .

dear jess,

On some days, like this one, you lie awake in bed at four, you scream the quiet scream till your jaw hurts and when you finally realize that sleep or any peace of mind will be as far to you as the chances of winning a lottery, you wake up and write a letter hoping that solace will find you.

On some days like this one, you feel so tired. So tired of fighting and justifying and saying you know for sure that the decisions you made in life were the right ones, that the man you chose will never leave you, that the job you wasted your life away for will eventually pay back.

I use to not want to have a child because I would fear that eventually I wouldn’t be able to tell her what to do and that one day she or he will make their own decisions, most likely those that I wont want them too.

And sometimes it would be so much easier to pick the easy choice and live up to expectations of everyone around you. Let them tell you what to do. Almost as if life itself was one whole big arranged marriage.

On days like this, you feel like rolling over, so that by doing that the tears will stop rolling, the confusion will end and in reality no one ever wants to be different. The punks punk their hair because they'd like to think they’re individuals, but of course, only with a group who all have the same punk hair. More so the popular girls at school, the not popular ones and all the odd ones.

Everyone thinks they want to be an individual but only if there were a few others like them.. Being an individual isn’t always being special anymore than what the word already is- being alone.

Woe is the woman who will not fall for the man of her parents dreams, who will not let her friends think for her, who will not let the way she was brought up affect the way she chooses her future, who will let herself be.

Woe is that woman, for she will indeed spend many a sleepless nights and share many silent screams.


Tuesday, September 05, 2006

sMeLLs LikE sEptemBer, AgaIn

dear jess,

I have a box with a sarong, four pieces to be exact, a bottle of brylcream, a comb, a small radio, a mirror and a little purse. All belonging to my grandmother. Its been only the second or third time ive opened this box in what is now the last two years..

And the reason ive opened this box so few times is because in a lot of ways I always handle tough times by ignoring they happened. Because everytime I smell that bryclream or let my face feel the sarong’s or look at that comb, more than just my external senses are awaken. In fact, each time I see an old lady that remotely resembles her I hurt inside.

I miss taking her to the movies, where she would talk and laugh at the top of her voice or watch her holler at the nephews and neighbours in crude Portuguese, or write numbers on that paper of hers or even stand in the kitchen for hours and help my mum make chips for Chinese new year, the same old lady with more energy than any young person i know, that will dry her pickles in the sun and remember to write everyone's birthday in her little book. There’s a little bit of her in all of us.

Death in the family can be so painful, but missing someone so much and not being able to do anything except smell brylcream can be worse.

The world population on eleventh january two thousand and six is 6,554,023,161. Six billion people, and sometimes all you need is just one.

yours, and always yours,