Nostalgia

So our dear Anod finally got hitched to a guy who looked like that boy from X-Factor. Anod is one of the few from that hellhole of a school in Kluang that I am in constant contact with, so it is impertinent that I go to her wedding. 

And on that rainy Saturday mid-morning; Moons, An, Azi and I, left for Kluang.

Preamble: I hated Kluang. I hated the institution that was the school - the stupid regulations - the school rules and the restrictive hostel culture. I hated that I was jeered at just because I can speak Inggeris slightly better than some (and without having a put-on American accent adopted from many hours in front of the TV even!) and that I am fat. I hated the boys who always poked fun of me - who will call me loudly from across the library, along the corridors, everywhere and embarass me (I was young, naive and pemalu once). I hated the teachers who were mostly condescending and scary ("Dah tau bodoh duduk lagi belakang? Mana tak lagi bodoh!" "Ni tingkat 3 ni, ni tingkat 3...saya campak sekor2 ke bawah kang!") I hated the food which are mostly dreary - ikan jacket comes to mind. 

Oh but Monday lunch, Tuesday dinner, Thursday dinner and Saturday breakfasts were lovely.

I hated the fact that I am a girl and so I MUST walk along the corridors that was deigned for females only. I can only play tennis at the court during Friday prayers only where the sun is scorching hot and I'd probably die of dehydration. I MUST were camisole and kain dalam because it is what good girls do despite the fact that I probably perspire and stink when my folds of fat are shrouded by layers and layers of clothing.

Suffice to say, my last day in Kluang was my last day at school. I did not even bother to come back for my SPM results. 

So 20 years later, I revisit Kluang for Anod. It would be apt if the journey or at least the accompanying weather thereof was dramatic and nothing short of phenomenal. But no. I was in super good company with Moons, An and Azi. Good conversations, snacks, goss and laugh a minute. There was rain but what's a little pitter-patter and heavy traffic when you're in good company eh?

Then I reached Kluang.

The first wave of nostalgia hit me when I drove pass Institute Haiwan Kluang. As a Renjers Puteri, we camped out there for our badges. I remembered us girls, freshly awoken and still bleary eyed making our way to the toilets across the road. We spied a group of cows coming down the hill, at first a safe distance away then increasingly closer and closer and faster and faster. We screamed and scrambled to safety; some of us more able-limbed ones (and not fat like me) scampered and jumped over the fence. Never thought cows could move that fast but there you go.

We drove past the bus stop that we all waited for our bus to town. We squealed when we saw Sekolah Menengah Sains Johor signboard. We went to the wedding, posed and teased the bridge and groom and then made our way to railway station for the famed coffee and roti bakar.

We reminisced some more. I've always preferred the train than the bus so it was a rush of pleasant memories at the train station. How we jostled for seats and how some of us stood the entire way from Kluang to JB because there were no seats left during festivity holidays. I remembered nearly missing my Kluang stop because the train was on Singapore - KL route and stops for only 3 minutes in Kluang. I remembered a friend telling me, mirthfully, how a mother screamed and cried because she did not disembark in time - she was busy telling her son to be good etc. Teehee.

We drove past Coronation - Coro, to us kids then. Coro was a cinema then, some place wicked to escape to some kids who were brave and willing to break the rules (I wasn't brave enough, sadly). There was an even wickeder place at the back of Coro - this pakcik who sold awesome nasi goreng ayam for only RM1.50 - big enough portion to feed two hungry schoolkids (and perhaps only one fat schoolkid, ahem). 

We remembered the jokes and the silly things we get up to in school. How one of us always managed to wrangle free food from the boys she was flirting with. How we (I) loved the makcik kantin's food. How we camwhored around Kluang during our last day of school. And the perpetual state of mess of my room locker (a warden called it "Niagara Falls" - go figure).

Suddenly, Kluang doesn't seem too bad anymore. The teachers aren't monsters - just strict mom/dad figures that we need in absence of our real parents. The food, well, the food on Monday lunch, Tuesday dinner, Thursday dinner and Saturday breakfasts were lovely. What's a little kari ikan jacket? And Makcik Gemuk always gave me extra portion (comrade in flab and all that). 

And the friends, well the boys grew up and now that they're all daddies (and some queens teehee), they're a lot more nicer to talk to. Thanks to FB groups, I am now in touch with the other girls as well and it was lovely to have met Roselin who came down from Sarawak after 20 years.

Am glad I took that trip back to Kluang. Bye Kluang, I hope to be back soon.

Moral Panic

Moral Panic is something I learnt when I studied Sociology during A Levels. If you ask me now I know jackshit about sociology. All I remember from that lecturer's class was his abject fascination for prostitutes (he kept discussing about them) and his quirky way of pronouncing words. He usually reads from the text and let's face it, this is surely not the best method to learn anything so we would usually doze/snooze/idle away our time during his classes.

One day though, he woke us up by asking: OK class? Are you vague? 

Nothing wrong with that of course, except that he said it weird. Vague = vay-gew.

So we stifled our giggles and said in all seriousness: No sir, no vay-gew.

Then one of us, Azrani, piped up to say: But Sir! I have one vay-gew! Can you help me clear my vay-gew?

Oh how the mighty tried to repress our giggles. 

Anyway, I didn't particularly want to talk about the vaygew lecturer but rather, about moral panic.

Which I know nothing about. Hmm.

Anyway, I have this one peculiar habit. You know how us single girls get wee depressed and lonly sometimes? No? It's only me?

Eleh, tipu.

SOO YEAHHHH. Sometimes us girls (read: me), get wee lonely and feel all wretched about now having someone to lerve, not having someone to call up just to say hi and not having to twirl hair infront of someone while listening to him talk about his day at work etc. You know the drill.

While some go out and buy ice-cream, or have a good cry in the car while listening to some sappy song on the radio, or watch go have a good karaoke session with girlfriends, I...I...

Sign up with some online dating sites. Because I panicked. I panicked thinking about my age and how I am not getting any younger. How I would never be able to bear any kids and OMG how on earth am I going to change the light bulbs when I am too old, too weak, too sickly and too fat to climb the ladder?

Sad, I know.

In bouts of panic, I'd sign up to whatever it is that is available. Except that I get stuck with the profile - I mean, how do you try to come off witty and sexy and alluring and mysterious when all you feel is PANIC STATION PANIC STATION SOMEONE PRESS THE RED BUTTON.

So two things would happen - either I'd abandon the effort half way or worst...I'd revisit the site on my next panic attack. I'd doggedly think of a witty repartee for my profile. And wait.

When the responses starts to trickle in (I mean, let's admit it, I'm no Mona Lisa), I'd panic again. Is this guy for real? Who'd fall for me? OMG is he just in to just have a shag? OMG is he a pervert? Who'd want to shag a fat middle-aged geriartric like me? OMG OMG PANIC STATION PANIC STATION PANIC STATION.

And so it goes. 

Next time it happens, I'd just scoff some choccies and weep in the car listening to Adele.

Life's a bitch I tell you.