CNY Breakdown

            (26 January 2012) It’s been maybe…11 days since I’ve departed T.M., returning to the place I call “not-so-vivid” home: 2E, Lane 6, Lada Road.  Mixed feelings I felt since I left there, because it’s quite comfortable actually just by staying in Chinatown alone.  If not because of the “ability” that I possess besides the fear of safety from being alone in the area, where even Borneo-ians return home, I decided to perform that act that may be considered guilty: booking flight ticket.  Well, after all the hustle and bustle from the conflicts that I faced in this land, be it from the psychological nor physical, maybe I SHOULD return to rest my mind a while.  That’s what I thought at first, ignoring all the facts that repeated history might occur again: the ones that constantly happen every time I return home.  Even at the time I’m writing this, it’s with the usual motives, to express my dissatisfaction.  Well, it’s my “diary” anyway.

            Part 1 of my journey home had already been covered during my night in the airport last Monday, so this part is just about how I live in this “heinous” house.  As usual, everything that I had earlier perceived had become a reality, this absurdity that constantly, repeatedly, purposely done, re-occurring in front of my very vision.  That very day that I touch landed in Sarawak, I begin to wonder what means that may be used to fill my 4 week vacation here.  Constant sleep, perhaps.  I’m exhausted both mentally and physically.  But little that I thought and overlook haunts me until this very day.  If you had been reading my previous entries, you will have already acknowledged about my complications: family, financial, or social.  So, I’m just reiterating in, in terms of the happenings of CNY events, and how I’ve been living during my vacation.  The first few days that I landed in Sibu, well, been occupied with the part-and-parcel of what I did in T.M..  Cleaning, cleaning, and finally, resting.  I’m a washing machine, a gardener, and a cleaner, like what I proclaimed in FB.  Not much had changed in this sleepy town anyway.  As I visited the town yesterday, what I seen as a development of this town is from its wealth, infrastructures, and the attitude of the people itself.  The girls are getting better in beautifying themselves.  That’s something, ha ha.

            Now, the serious part and something that I despise the most.  People didn’t give a DAMN about my accomplishment.  Even after I had managed to pursue tertiary education, people still looks at me as a mid-school snot.  What the hell is that?  The situation worsens by the recent political rally that occurred in UPSI.  Now, this institution is well-known, even by the likes of the not-so-updated Sarawak, and most probably, my hometown.  This university had been recognized as an institution that produces rebels.  That’s what my uncle asked me during my CNY visitation yesterday.  Bad luck always befalls me, even in my prime condition.  Something that I’ve been proud of and by far, regretted, is my lingual ability.  I’ve been speaking a LOT of BI after my arrival at home, but it by far hasn’t been acknowledged as when I’m speaking in presentations for this third semester.  I feel so stupid.  The only happy incident that occurs by far is during the CNY countdown night.  I’m mix-cultured, right? So, without knowing, I followed this celebration (by playing truant this year, playing fireworks with my little bro after 12 midnight.)  Snapped a few pictures for memory.  I will post them here if it’s possible.  But, the thing that I regret the most is not because of my financial conditions, but what residues that still remains in this household that makes every homecoming of mine eventually becomes a disaster, a tragedy for me to engulf when I return to UPSI.  I never felt comfortable with that bastard’s presence.  Worse still, he now actually places 5 layers of cement, apply them on his facial expression, them pretends to ignore everything that the world around him revolves.  I mean, that’s so vile.  Truly, the definition of scum.  Now, the hatred that I contain just by acknowledging “it’s” presence in the very same soil that I stepped my foot on is a thought of disgust.  I never hated him as much as I am now.  

Every time I return, “it’s” condition worsens.  If possible, I would like to yell every piece of despicable harsh verbs ever created, compile it in a dictionary, and then hurl it right between his putrid nose.  Just today, I expressed my dissatisfaction towards him.  I’m so frustrated that he keeps on recalling the same, absurd mechanic (if that old guy really IS ONE) that will cause our steel horse to remain in oblivion every 3-6 months after he repairs it.  And the rate that he charges could be as well be used as a down payment to purchase a new car to replace that stupid rust bucket.  Every single one of my relatives, 5 of them (my mom’s side: my first aunt, second, uncle that I visited, and my rich aunt in Kuching) demands that my mom divorce that helpless guy.  He wasn’t even putting any effort into improving our current condition, just sticking to his norms in the belief that he will eventually gain wealth someday.  It’s absurd, stupidity, moronic, imbecile, dumb, idiot, fool that someone like that would exist to burden us, helpless 2E civilians that fell victim to his past preferences that make us poorer that those conventional, traditional people in the village.  My handset had passed away right during the night when I’m alone in airport.  So sui.  So, I had personally requested for donations from my relatives (a suggestion by my roomate, as he is doing it too so as to gather funds for his departure to China.  Not like we’re poor or anything, but just some “angpows” as study assistance.)  Okay, maybe I’m POOR.  I admit it, even if I’m humiliated by it.  My first aunt, who I paid a visit to deliver CNY goodies to (it’s our family tradition) last Saturday is the first individual by far that is excited by my arrival home.  She even inquired my return date and volunteered to deliver me to the airport.  Later on that evening, she delivered a return goody (together with a whopping “angpow” worth RM50!!!) to my house, with the acknowledgement that she will inform her daughter (they’re very rich actually, her daughter is a bank officer) about my HP’s passing to the better place with the hopes to donate to me for the new one.  I just hope help WILL arrive soon before I return to Perak……

            So, by today’s incident’s I had pledged that the next semester break will be occupied with outdoor activities: means that I possible DON’T WANT TO GO BACK.  This time, I became a repairman (for the things that the bastard purposely ruined, I suppose) and my money, well… Don’t want to mention it further.  The true motive that I tied my stomach, watching people having their joyous moment , enjoying university life, not going out for shopping, etc is because I desired that every cent to be saved as a financial investment for something even better: the flight ticket home.  I’m the officer of this home, where I maintains the stability and the tranquility of this untamed household.  But, as I can see as always, my efforts had gone fruitless and futile.  I wonder if my highly-disciplined life in T.M. is heavily misinterpreted by my family members who see my failure to gain 3.5 CGPA as a failure of me to achieve the very same pinnacle as my other tertiary-institutional siblings.  For example, when that PHD fellow returns, she is always been given the perfect hospitality, unlike myself.  I didn’t even give a damn about what I feed this time at home, just a rest from those democracy clowns and hypocrites would be fine.  However, those things that I’ve perceived had may as well as be gone, flush down the drain.  I’m sick of this unfairly treatment.  I mean, what else that I had to accomplish to be well-acknowledged by these individuals that I pre-claimed as my “family”?  It’s a depressing thought that constantly dragging my self-emotions into oblivion, unstable between the lines of sane and insanity.  I may have heavily offended lot of people in the previous life to be feeded such a living as this one, that I constantly murmur about.  Let time decide everything I guess.  But if time is really the perfect cure for everything, then how come my previous psychological wounds from 8 years back still remains fresh like it just occurred yesterday?  Nobody really acknowledged about my emotional bruise.  I realized that I may be remaining in this state for a few years to come, should this horrible environment never finds a way to untangle itself from the threads of complication that strangles its occupants for such a long time now. 

For now, I just wish that I could live on this < 3 week vacation period.  May tension, stupidity, and poverty be gone for these timeline, as I desired deeply to have a calm state of mind, not by the constant absurdity of some individuals who keeps on crawling in my visions, tampering my life with every dirty deeds possible just by obtaining some attention from my pitiful self.  I pray to God for forgiveness in every each one of my wrongdoings, and may He bequeath my life afterwards with something that I could consider memorable and as an encouragement for me to live on. 

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A quote that I thought of a few days ago, during my seclusion moments:

“The choice of escapism is not the ultimate way: there’s bound to be one day where you will face that same situation again where you might had to suffer the aftermaths that might be worse than the previous.  Face it now rather than regret it later.”