The Rush

The ball is clutched tightly to your body with your left arm.
The opponent is 5 metres in front of you.

This is it.

Should you side-step him?
Or toss the ball to the teammate behind you?
Or just bite the bullet and ram into him?

And the very second afterwards,
One quick lunge of the right foot to the right.
A sudden change in direction to the left.
And chance (and also the other man’s experience);
Will dictate whether your side-step attempt succeeded or not.

As you sprint past your man,
At That. Very. Second;
You feel every single movement of your muscles.
Every stretch, every turn.
The sheer intensity of the force exerted on the front bit of your right foot, right behind the pinky toe, to shift your body’s momentum the other way round.
You can feel his fingers trying to clench in your shirt.
Too late for that now.

And you can just see the face of your man, eye-to-eye.
That split-second moment that makes it all worth it.

*****

Do you recall that feeling when,
All of your senses got a sudden jolt of electricity,
Your heart pumps faster, your pupils dilate.
You can’t help but to have that smirk on your face.
And everything turns slow-mo for just a while.

Enough for a thousand chains of thoughts to run through.
You could think of clever lines to say.
Witty jokes at your disposal.
Crafty schemes being thought of in that nut of yours.
From Step1 to Step10. You've got it figured out!

Enough for your eyes to even take still photographs.
You’d notice everybody around you.
You’d notice which pair of eyes are peering towards your direction.
You’d suddenly realise of the things presented on the desk.
The tiniest insignia on the cover of a diary.
Whatever.
Everything that you see is imprinted in memory.

Enough for your ears to tune in to any frequency and volume.
Even the slightest whisper is as loud and clear as day.
You’d hear everything word by word,
And remember it precisely as how it is.

*****

But sometimes, such occurrences are not always pleasant.

You’d notice how sloppy you look like,
With the messed up hair and the acne-ridden face.
The loosened tie and the wrinkly part of the shirt on the right shoulder.
How it is impossible to smile normally with metal wires and implants attached to your teeth.
And you can’t help but to wonder, whether the other person notices these things as well.

The concept of “you can’t see me if I can’t see you”.
What if you saw everything, with utmost and precise detail?
Able to deduce every single feature that you see?
Won’t it be applied to you as well?

You’d notice how stupid you sound like when you talk.
How you always seem to say all the wrong things, and not a single line from the ones you had in mind.

You’d often hear things that are unpleasant to your ears.
Certain gestures and words that you find particularly hard to accept.
Oh, that ever-so-bitter taste lingering in your taste buds.
And you can’t do anything sometimes, but to just grit your teeth and pretend you didn’t hear or see anything.
Go ahead. Live in denial.

Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?

*****

The thing about these rare moments, is that they come in short bursts and during specific times only.

And when the time comes,
A thousand thoughts, a thousand options will be presented to you.
But only this time, there is no room for hesitation.
There’s no such thing as waiting, thinking and choosing the best of them all.

You’d just pick the first thing that comes to your mind;
(And usually it won’t be the best at all!).

On the field, there’s always that “bite the bullet and burst” option, when you hesitate for too long and can’t decide on your next move in that split-second.
There is no shame in getting tackled down.

But, there is no such thing outside, is there.

Dental Drama

I started my orthodontic braces programme round about July 2008. The plan was to wear it during the 2 years I spend in college, and take it off just before flying off to university.

In a bit to “show my appreciation and acknowledgement”
To the Governmental sector of healthcare;
I (well, my mum) opted for the one in UKM (It's within the KL General Hospital).

Here, I was assigned to Dr. Syarihan, an M.O in training for her specialisation in orthodontics.
Her consultant (boss) is Dr. Asma, who occasionally comes by to check up on her and her management of my case.

We share a bittersweet, long-distance, love-hate relationship alright.
And, as you would expect in any relationship with a dentist;
Lies, lies and lies were all around during the first few dates.

I remember the first lie she ever told me,
When she was about to put on the “teeth separator”;
A very simple contraption that looks like a very, very very tiny rubber band; used to wrap around certain teeth at the back.

“Before we put on the metal appliance, we have to create some space in between your teeth. I’m going to put this rubber band thingy for about a week or two, and we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“Is it painful?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t worry. Most of my other patients said they only experienced Mild Discomfort during this stage.”

The whole procedure was quick. Didn’t even stretch to 2 minutes.
I thought to myself; “Hey, this isn’t going to be so bad after all!”

Oh I jinxed it. I jinxed it real bad.

That night itself; I was screaming in pain.
Literally running around from the kitchen to the living room.
Back and forth. Screaming.

At the time, my parents were working outstation for a few days.
My grandma was there instead.
"Tu la. Tak sakit, nak cari penyakit. Pasang lagi benda tu dekat gigi"

I have a lot of experiences with pain.
From road accidents to injuries in the rugby field.
And this is like a whole new different level of pain.

My house (and also my current chalet room at college) is like a pharmacy.
All the looted, “extra” prescriptions of various medicine and painkillers are well stocked in the fridge.
You name it, we got it.
From the weakest 500mg Paracetamol to the exceptionally strong 375mg Etoricoxib (Arcoxia).

None of them worked! Well, except for Arcoxia though, which managed to kill the pain for 15minutes before it re-emerges again.
And the best part is, Arcoxia is so strong that the limit is only once daily.
Any more, and I will have very, very, very bad gastric attacks later on.

After tiring myself out the whole night, fatigue catches up and unbearable pain was nothing to the sleep I needed.

Oh well. That was my first orthodontic experience.
So much for Mild Discomfort!

The next appointment, I gave her a mouthful.
"I trusted you!
Don’t ever lie to me again!"

"If it’s painful, just say it. Don’t give me all that ‘mild discomfort’ bullshit! I’d rather hear the bad news than to discover it by surprise. blah.blah.blah..."

(Well, the “I trusted you” part was exaggerated)

*****

One and a half years later.
I’m considering a break-up.

2 weeks ago, one of the stray wires at the back of my mouth was poking the inside walls of my cheek.
At first it was a minor annoyance, but after a while, it starts to bleed.

And so, I decided to drive around Setiawangsa for a local dental or orthodontic clinic to just cut off the extra bit of wire at the back there.
Nothing complicated. All you need is just a set of pliers.

And somehow, I was brought to this Orthodontic Specialist;
Dr. Zaiton, whose office is at the Setiawangsa Business Suites.

I went in. I said “uh, I don’t have an appointment. But the wire at the back here is poking and I just need to have it cut.”

The moment she saw me speaking,
She was like:

“Where did you do your braces?”

“Uhh.. UKM”

“I knew it. Who’s the consultant for your case? I don’t want to know the M.O’s name.”

“It’s Dr. Asma”

“Dr. Asma?! I just passed her exam about a year ago, and now she wants to teach people. There, you can see her picture in the photo frame on the counter”

I was like.. woah, what a small world.
Of all the clinics, I just had to go to the Teacher (Dr. Zaiton) of the Consultant (Dr. Asma) who’s currently Teaching my Orthodontic M.O. (Dr. Syarihan).

That’s like, what, 2 generations?

And from a simple procedure of cutting off an extra length of the stray wire, she talked me into changing the whole wire and a couple more fancy procedures.

And she was like “This one is specialist treatment you know! It should cost you about RM200”

I was like, shit! I didn’t bring that much cash. Usually a simple wire-cut should be only about RM10.

I called in MY boss.
“Mum, I’m at this place…. … … RM200”
“What?! I’m coming over there now.”

Later, they started talking.
And I don’t know how it happened, Dr. Zaiton started talking about her ex-husband and her divorce.

Apparently, her ex-husband was the Pengarah Hospital.
And that guy was my mum’s boss, at a certain point in her career.
Small world, yet again.

*****

I think now I know where I got that trait from.

I don’t know whether it’s a desirable trait or not, but random people love to tell me all sorts of stories and problems.
Like, our KYUEM matron; for example.
I think I know all about her life story and her marital problems with her husband. And I didn’t even ask. She started telling me all sorts of stories out of the blue.

Okay, whatever. I’m straying off the topic here, aren’t I.

*****

Dr. Zaiton was complaining that Dr. Asma and Dr. Syarihan was not doing a good job on my teeth.
And that my dental frame thing is all crooked and over-expanded.
And that the instruments and appliances used in UKM causes unnecessary pain and discomfort.
I was like, shocked. This defeated the purpose of having aesthetic dental braces in the first place!

She offered her own package to “undo the damage” and re-correct my teeth. I had a week or two to consider her offer.

*****

Today, I went to see Dr. Syarihan to clarify things.
Dr. Asma was not in today, and another consultant started giving her two cents on the issue.
She started condemning Dr. Zaiton, citing that she was being unprofessional and she was making absurd claims and remarks.

And the Dental office at UKM turned to be a bitching area.
Dr. Syarihan was defending her case, justifying her actions.
Dr. Rohaya or something, the consultant was bitching about Dr. Zaiton, who gave up teaching in UKM.
And my mum, who was also there, started bitching about Dr. Zaiton as well.

3 freaking hours in the room.
2 orthodontists. 1 gynaecologist. 1, uh.. A-Levels student.
Doing what?
Bitching about dentists, management plans, and justifying own actions.

(And the funny thing here, is, that my mum doesn't even know a single thing about teeth and orthodontics!)

All the other patients outside were waiting for their turn.
And I didn’t have an appointment at all today with Dr. Syarihan.

When the consultant left. I asked Dr. Syarihan on what’s her next move. She disagreed with the other consultant’s suggestions and management plans, saying that it’s all wrong; and that she wanted to do things her way, according to the original plan.

I think I learnt a lot about orthodontics today.
From 6-to-6 power-chain brackets to the mechanics of teeth movement.

From my questions on Dr. Syarihan’s management of my teeth,
She seems to know what she’s doing, and able to answer every question and justifying the answers.

I’ve decided.
I’ll stay loyal and give another shot at this relationship.
Especially when she said;

“Don’t expect any ‘mild discomfort’ comments out of me! ;)”

What Was That, Old Man?

Last week my dad wanted to watch a movie with the family.
The last time we did that was like, 10 months ago?

And so it was set. Saturday night, at the closest cinema possible.
TGV KLCC it is then.

The only available movie (I mean, with 5 good seats) at the time was 2012.
Yeah, sure, the movie’s a bit old by then.
But hey, since the 4 of us haven’t watched it yet. Democracy wins.

And before you know it, I got tricked into standing in the atrociously long line to buy the tickets.
Not wanting to stand there all alone, I dragged my 10 year old brother along to share the misery.

And as we were entering the queue, the last person in the line ( the one ahead of us) was waving his hand to come on over closer.

Was it someone I know? Perhaps not.
His face didn’t ring any bells.

He said Hi.
We said Hi back to him.

Giving up on trying to recall the identity of this man,
I decided to initiate conversation.
"Have we met before?"

But then, he was more occupied with my little brother instead.
Smiling, saying hi, laughing and stroking my brother’s hair.
"Very handsome boy!" ,
Gesturing a thumbs up while saying that to him.

My little brother, was taught well on the ways of our culture,
To respect the elders. No matter what happens, just smile and entertain the old man.

At first glance, I thought he was a Malay man.
From his tanned skin and facial features.
But then, his eyes were too… squinted?

I took a closer look at this man while he was asking my brother for his name and handshake.
Scruffy grey hair, a worn out shirt and pair of shorts, slippers that have seen better days, and a bottle of mineral water.
For a second there, I might just actually think that this man is a bit *not there* judging by his appearance alone.

“Are you from Malaysia?”

“Oh, no, no… People… think I’m Malay, sometimes Chinese. Burma. From Burma.”

I was like, oh okay.

It looked as if he was struggling to find the right words to say.
Before every sentence, he’d literally close his eyes like Hiro Nakamura trying to bend time and space, and slowly muttered the words one at a time.
Must’ve been hard trying to cope with foreign languages, for his age.
I tried speaking in Malay. But it was just as hard to understand his speech. English it is then.

It was already an awkward situation, as we progress through the line. With everybody from all sides (front, back, left, right, centre)
Of whom got nothing else to do as well while queuing up, eavesdropping, staring and whispering among themselves.

And the old man was at it again, stroking my brother’s hair.
He looked so happy. Shaking his head left to right, smiling.

Now, I was just about to have enough of this paedophilic foreign man touching my 10 year old brother.
I think that was the reason why the surrounding people stared ever so much.

But then again, throughout my encounters with many of the colourful characters in the past, everybody has their own story.
It would have been very shallow of me just to write him off just like that;
As a “paedophile that should be arrested by the police and deported back to Burma”.

“Do you have a son?” I asked.

I think I struck a chord there when I asked him that.
I don’t know whether he’s trying to muster up the right words for a reply, or trying to recall back his own son from his memory.

His eyes were semi-watery.
Not to the point where you’d shed a tear, but, it was noticeable if you looked hard enough.

“Yes. Son. He was this big when I left Burma”.

*****

And there you go. Sometimes I think how our society has degraded so badly with the increase in crime, violence, and the like…
We've grown somewhat paranoid to the people outside.
The first thought of a stranger is that he is a bad person.
Guilty until proven innocent sort of way.

I'm not saying that I’m a saint,
I’m guilty of such prejudice and malice as well.

*****

As I try to engage in further conversation with this man, I’ve somewhat got to know his life story, being summed up in roughly about 7 minutes.

He came to Malaysia to work about 10 years ago,
As the financial situations in Burma was very bleak.
Leaving behind his beloved wife and son (about 10yrs old at the time).

He works as a car jockey now somewhere near AmBank in Jalan Raja Chulan.
He sends money back home to support his family, of whom he never saw ever since he left.
It was too costly to go back to Burma, and with current immigration policies and whatnot, it might be impossible to come back to Malaysia (compared to say, 10 years ago).

*****

I guess that explained why he was so interested in my little brother. I think that was his closest link to remembering the once 10-year-old son back then.

I can’t really say he’s a sad, old man.
Lonely, yes. It must’ve been really tough on him.
And thus, he enjoys the occasional movie once in a while.
And of course, the company of whoever it is that he can talk with for a good 5 minutes.

“Watch..movie..I can. I under..stand. But hard to..talk back.”

Ah, the movies. One of the simple pleasures that unite us all.

It’s the human nature to communicate amongst each other, regardless of our differing languages.
Our gestures and body language can be understood by all.

I’m very sure that he’s not the only one here.
I wonder how many of these stories are there right now in Malaysia…?

I bid you adieu, old man.
The least I can do is to re-tell your story and shed some light on the issue.
I hope you’ll get to see your family again soon enough.

A Spree

I've been delaying a post for too long.
It’s already been more than a week since the holidays started.

And what better way to de-stress than shopping?
Retail therapy works wonders for me.
I don’t know about you, but there’s something about that “getting what you want, right here, right now” feeling that needs to be satisfied.

The last 3-4 days of mine was spent with my mum.
At shopping malls in KL. Literally. I don’t know why.
But I am most certainly not complaining.

She claims that she hasn’t been shopping for a long time.
(I can say the same for me as well!)

It’s sort of a mother-son bonding thing when we go shopping.
It’s an unwritten system, where we have to take turns and visit shops/boutiques of our choices in equal proportions.
She checks out her stuff, I’ll comment.
I check out my stuff, she’ll comment.
I have membership cards of certain stores.
She has membership cards of *most* of the other stores.
I don’t have a credit card.
She has a platinum.

It can be compared with how I bond with my dad when we play RTS Games over the PC,
or some D.I.Y work at home from plumbing to electrical stuff,
and the occasional breaking locks and doors of our houses when the tenants fail to pay rent and disappeared.

*****

The sales people at the boutiques already recognised our faces over the last few days.
A tell-tale sign for us to stop.
Oh well… It was fun while it lasted.

*****

This “ritual” of ours is a rare occasion, as we are normally not free at the same time.
But when the time comes…
We’d tell everybody else not to tag along,
As they usually get in our way and slow things down.

The other family members are not very fond of our activity.
My dad can’t keep up with it.
My sister can’t join in.

My brother, well…

Exactly 2 days ago, I bought a few games for my brother to play on his XBox 360 at MidValley//Gardens.

Realising that there is a game shop after all in that particular mall, my little brother decided to follow us to the mall today.
[Yes, we visit the same mall again and again because we haven’t quite finished with the place yet.]

“Aiman… Are you sure you want to follow us? It’s very tiring! You won’t be able to stand it.”

He claims that he’s alright with it.
Of course, me and my mum were not born yesterday.
We both know that he only wanted to pay a visit to the game shop to get more games.

Halfway throughout the day…

We were in : Armani Exchange @ Gardens, MidValley.

He couldn’t take it anymore.
I pity the boy. We left him there to sleep while we shopped happily.

But then again, he was the one who wanted to follow us anyway!