Therapy?

Rain… feel it on my fingertips, hear it on my windowpane… like the Madonna song, it’s raining out, and I feel like typing.

This will seem like a secondary school essay… but then, if it is to be believed that only through destruction can creation commence (thanks Vijay), likewise a regression of thoughts should bring progression in the end.

In the past 3 months too many things have happened to be put into a single entry, so I shall not even attempt. But suffice to say that, even if given anything in the world, I would still not trade it for what has gone by. All this started from a swift move by my university to split the batch in two… one half remained in Seremban to continue classes, and the other half ventured forth nationwide, some even worldwide, for their electives. I stayed in Seremban.

With the batch obviously depleted on the first day of classes, a feeling of awkwardness awashed in our faces, and a tinge of "where are the others" circling our thoughts, it was not the best of starts. But change we did, adapt we did… and in the end accept we did. Our half of the batch (with the reputation of being called the "fun" half, though I digress) not only managed to stay afloat, but in doing so became much closer, tighter, wiser… thrown together with new company, holding on to some familiar friends, while trying to accomodate, appreciate and further understand existing ones.

I did mention this to be a nostalgic post… right now my mind is still fresh with the events that occurred in the recent past. Part of reliving them is hoping these times will never end, yet looking forward to more to come. I remember my birthday… never before have I celebrated with so many batchmates because it always fell on a semester break. Of course it was special… not since my Form 6 days when I lost my wallet and got one back for my 18th did anything come close. And so this will be my first of many thanks in the entry… thanks guys. The shirt was fabu, the cake was fabu, the card was a big cheat but funny anyways… and Fatahna, your card is pasted on my wall. I know Ajie will be jealous, but he will have to live with it.

Shortly after came the Music Night and the preparations that we had to go through. Nearly our entire batch performed and each of us had something to bring to the table. Images, many vivid images still ring clearly… of Frienkie, Emily, Sasha and Isaac dancing daily in the gym for their Passion dance, evenings spent in Sharifah’s room to perfect the David Tao double-header, Pei See and Lynda tweaking their guitar and tweaking their vocals, and Sunday nights jamming in my room with Shungz, the partner-in-crime.

We basically tore through our entire music collections deciding on what songs to perform. It was fantastic, going through alternative songs of the 90’s, wave after wave of nostalgia listening and trying to perform the songs we grew up with. Names were thrown around. Goo Goo Dolls. Jars Of Clay. Oasis. Radiohead. Foo Fighters. All the ‘it’ bands. We could have given a half hour concert with the material we had and rehearsed.

And when the Music Night proper came, magic was in the air. For the emcees, Jill and the Veej, and all of the performers. Shungz and I sat back and were blown away one performance after another, before realising it was our turn. The lights were out, with only the spotlight intact. This performance meant the world to me because, for once in my life I’m singing the songs I do want to sing. Not Cantopop, not Mandopop, not cheesy ballads… but rock. Like the Channel V ad, "What are you going to do with your life?" "I wanna rock!" And so we played in the shadows. What I remembered was the glaring spotlight, the only visible audience in my front row, the eerie quiet, sweat coming out of my every pore, Shungz playing his heart out, and praying my voice would not break. But did the performance turn out alright? I thought so. And knowing that we might never perform again in IMU, we were glad to go out like this… our little baptism of fire.

And to the person I dedicated "Wonderwall" to… you’re welcome. Thanks for the sweet sweet rose.

More memories to come soon… this is taking longer than I thought. Goodbye for now.

"Lullaby, and good night, with pink roses bedight,
With lilies o’er spread, is my baby’s sweet head.
Lay thee down now, and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.
Lay thee down now, and rest, may thy slumber be blessed."

Like an enchanting spell that a fairy has weaved upon us with a wave of her wand, since we were young we were taught to believe in a few… certainties, that now we know are not necessarily true, but was an essential part of growing up. As kids, we wanted to believe that everything in the real world reflects what we read in books and nursery rhymes, the kiddie shows we see on television, and "On A Good Ship Lollipop"… a candy-cane, peanut butter and jelly world with the crusts cut off and a cherry on top. With Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy… where counting sheep, or having Brahms’ Lullaby sung to you would set the world all right and bring you instant, peaceful slumber. Zzzzzz…

As we grow and gradually dispel the myths and mysteries that shroud our childhood, as we continue to find our footing and come to know the harsh realities of life… we tend to forget the whole point of the candy-cane world existing in the first place. We were protected, and we had a blanket of security covering us until we were old enough to read the newspapers for ourselves. Which parent with a rational mind would allow their children to learn about murder, terrorism, rape and whatnot at age 3? The worst people we knew back then could possibly be the evil witch who wanted to cook Hansel and Gretel, the mean wolf who wanted both Red Riding Hood and the Three Pigs, and Brutus who loved nothing more than giving Popeye numerous skin abrasions, lacerations, haematomas and a possible fracture or two.

As I write this I am reminded that, yes, in today’s world, we are forced to grow up faster than ever… that evil lurks even for the youngest of young. That they would have to learn and be told much younger, what we, children of the 80’s, gradually discovered on our own. Like Gwyneth Palthrow’s character in Se7en knew… this was not a world worthy of bringing up a child in.

But I had the perfect, protected childhood, and no one could take that away. Brought up to believe that, yes, when nighttime came, everyone will rest, immersed in deep sleep… the reset button will be pushed, and come morning, everyone gets to start the day anew, with no worries nor regret nor burden from the previous day.

"Lullaby, and good night, your mother’s delight,
Shining angels beside my darling abide.
Soft and warm is your bed, close your eyes and rest your head.
Soft and warm is your bed, close your eyes and rest your head."

One of my earliest childhood memories… was when I could have been 3 or 4 but no older, trying hard to fall asleep in my bed but couldn’t. My father would sing me no lullaby, nor read me any story. What he did was much simpler. Covering me up in a blanket, he would pat my back, repeatedly, reassuring me that he was there, keeping me safe… until I fell asleep. That was my lullaby. And come morning, mother would greet me, slit-eyed and yawning, with arms wide open, and give me a towel bath to start the day. What a wonderful place to grow up in.

What a wonderful place indeed.

What every child needs is to feel safe in the world, safe in the arms of the people he cherishes most. For me it will always be my parents. They made me feel safe no matter what. In times of sickness, pain, tears or ridicule, come what may they made me feel safe, like the happy endings promised in all the fairytales many times told… up till today they remain the one lingering thought at the back of my head in everything I do. While they are not around me anymore, just the thought of them would give me the calm and steadiness to sail through anything.

"Sleepyhead, close your eyes. mother’s right here beside you.
I’ll protect you from harm, you will wake in my arms.
Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear.
Guardian angels are near, so sleep on, with no fear."

The reason for this entry today… is because I had a long talk with Jill last week. She has made me realise what I should have known all along… that even now, nearly 6 years on… I still miss my parents. Deeply. Consistently. Undyingly. And I still need them around for me to be able to achieve anything. I can be assured of thoughts, prayers, guardian angels… anything. But the thought of mother and father watching over me, and the hope that one day I might be their perfect son… this keeps me going through and through. Mother’s Day is in a week… and 5 weeks later from then is Father’s Day. And somewhere in between, my dad’s birthday in June 6th. They are constantly in my mind, and I see them in my dreams. Is that enough? Definitely not… but it will do for the moment.

I have no doubt in my mind that one day I will see them again, but in the meantime, I have a lot of living to do… and yet, a lot of remembering too.

Happy Parents’ Day.