Dear Diary, Maybe Not....
.
Everyday, for the last two years or so, I’d spend a few minutes writing down what I did and what happened within the last 24 hours. Just for a few minutes, either before leaving for home or after coming in from lunch. Just for a few minutes though. Skimming through my so-called diary, I’d smile most of the time and wonder sometimes.
Wonder sometimes? I mean, the entry for February 29 this year reads, “Rott Weiler asked me to tea. No thank you.” I have forgotten who on earth Rott Weiler is but I know he is no one I am fond of. Most likely it’s a he, hardly a she around that I’d mind having tea with. God, who was it……..?
Most are mundane things, but I do slot in many things about work and it does help in doing the weekly report sometimes. Most are not though, there are about the days and places I played golf and with whom. The late night teh tarik sessions, where, when and with whom. There was an entry on a conversation with an old friend, how he lost his wife and how he got back on his feet again. I met her a few times many many years ago and she was a very pleasant lass, that much I remember.
There are references to CNN, actually a guy who could not stop talking. Then there are references to a Mr. 10% - for only 10% of what he said could be believed and also to Mr. Flicker, a guy who cheats at golf. There are references to my conversation with my friend Red, on a few things that concerned us. Even on things that did not concern us for that matter........
The entries for this last week was just filled with entries about work and my brother, who showed up at my house a few times over the few days. He’s turning out to be a good tukang urut. My left arm feels a lot better in years after he’s been at it. He’d hold my elbow in one hand, hold my palm in the other, crank it until something inside my elbow feels like it’s latching into something else, let go of the palm and massage my elbow while still holding it in the other hand, while it is still "latched". It hurts, but of the good kind, you know what I mean. No, I'm lying, it really hurts actually..... I grimaced, sweated and swore at him. He just laughed. Which made me swore a lot more. It was painful but not as painful as what the late Mat Beruang did. Yup, that’s what they called him. I went to him once once years ago and that was it, I could not stand the pain. One guy was with me that day sprained his ankle playing football and when Mat Beruang was doing the number on his ankle, he said “Aduh, tak nak main bola lagi….”* It was that bad.
Well, we have tomorrow off and on Monday, I’ll have more to write about. But I can tell you that it will continue sounding like "Lifestyles of the Not So Rich and Not So Famous".
* “Ouch, I don’t want to play football anymore….”
.
Everyday, for the last two years or so, I’d spend a few minutes writing down what I did and what happened within the last 24 hours. Just for a few minutes, either before leaving for home or after coming in from lunch. Just for a few minutes though. Skimming through my so-called diary, I’d smile most of the time and wonder sometimes.
Wonder sometimes? I mean, the entry for February 29 this year reads, “Rott Weiler asked me to tea. No thank you.” I have forgotten who on earth Rott Weiler is but I know he is no one I am fond of. Most likely it’s a he, hardly a she around that I’d mind having tea with. God, who was it……..?
Most are mundane things, but I do slot in many things about work and it does help in doing the weekly report sometimes. Most are not though, there are about the days and places I played golf and with whom. The late night teh tarik sessions, where, when and with whom. There was an entry on a conversation with an old friend, how he lost his wife and how he got back on his feet again. I met her a few times many many years ago and she was a very pleasant lass, that much I remember.
There are references to CNN, actually a guy who could not stop talking. Then there are references to a Mr. 10% - for only 10% of what he said could be believed and also to Mr. Flicker, a guy who cheats at golf. There are references to my conversation with my friend Red, on a few things that concerned us. Even on things that did not concern us for that matter........
The entries for this last week was just filled with entries about work and my brother, who showed up at my house a few times over the few days. He’s turning out to be a good tukang urut. My left arm feels a lot better in years after he’s been at it. He’d hold my elbow in one hand, hold my palm in the other, crank it until something inside my elbow feels like it’s latching into something else, let go of the palm and massage my elbow while still holding it in the other hand, while it is still "latched". It hurts, but of the good kind, you know what I mean. No, I'm lying, it really hurts actually..... I grimaced, sweated and swore at him. He just laughed. Which made me swore a lot more. It was painful but not as painful as what the late Mat Beruang did. Yup, that’s what they called him. I went to him once once years ago and that was it, I could not stand the pain. One guy was with me that day sprained his ankle playing football and when Mat Beruang was doing the number on his ankle, he said “Aduh, tak nak main bola lagi….”* It was that bad.
Well, we have tomorrow off and on Monday, I’ll have more to write about. But I can tell you that it will continue sounding like "Lifestyles of the Not So Rich and Not So Famous".
* “Ouch, I don’t want to play football anymore….”
.
posted by dudae_simboyo at 14:33
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