little kids never cease to amaze me. it's like they're some sort of subhuman species, or rather some kinda higher order beings who degenrate into regular humans in adulthood. like stem cells losing their totipotency or whatever it's called as the organism ages. so kids seem to be able to do all sorts of things adults find impossible, and then many of these kid geniuses grow up and become ordinary, or else they die young. maybe geniuses are simply people with arrested growth (or rather, arrested degeneration).
was with this 5 year old during my church production rehearsal, and i came up with this brilliant idea to occupy her: i gave her a pen and a tissue to draw on. after five minutes and ten requests to spell words, (how to spell 'girl'? 'like'? 'dog'?) it didn't seem like such a bright idea anymore. so the next time she asked, "how do you spell the 'thing' in 'something'?"
i gave her a long look, and mustering up great regret, i told her, "i don't know."
she looked back at me with a gaze of infinite pity and replied, "it's ok. you go and learn more ok? i will ask you again next time." then, fearing she had touched a sore point and exposed my vulnerability, she didn't ask me anything else after that.
she was so earnest and funny that i felt a little bad, and wondered if she would look back some day and recall her meeting with a nice retarded lady who couldn't spell.
this kid is quite amazing! definitely in the meristematic stage of development. haha.
the tuition agency guy freaks me out a little. it's just something vague i can't put my finger on. perhaps it's his name: the kind of name so generic you have to wonder if it's real. like johnny smith, or xiaoming, xiaohong, ali and gopal. that kinda name. i mean, i've never met any real person named gopal or xiaoming!
or maybe it's cos he says my name just that hundred times too many: ok, xintian, just to confirm, xintian, that it's 20 dollars an hour. is that fine, xintian? just contact me, xintian, if you have any queries. as though he'd too enthusiastically attended a HR class teaching you to call potential clients by their names to establish familiarity and also put yourself on higher ground cos you know "something" about them. like, it's disarming if a stranger jumps out at you and calls you by name. AH LING! AH LING! of course later you realise that it's printed on your nametag but nevermind.
he tried to palm off a p6 kid (english math science for 15/h) but i felt distinctly cheated; i mean, sm gets more than this for her p5 kid and she's alr feeling undercharged! the man was like 'because i have others who are willing to take this price' so i was like fine then let them have it. tsk. i bet tuition agencies give horrible deals to their teachers so that they can get more cases. and us poor jobless souls have naught to do but to swallow this grave injustice. haha.
was cutting a guava today for my mum, and was peeling it, and i realised that the skin was much softer than it looked, which disconcerted me.
then i carved it open and saw this whole weird white hard centre with a million seeds embedded in it. i was frankly shocked, and didn't know what to do with it. it wasn't soft and scoopable like a papaya, or edible like dragonfruit, or even nicely compacted into a core like an apple. i had no idea the inside of a guava looked like this; it had always come to me sliced, with plum powder to dip at the side. so i called for help.
me "mama! what do i with the centre? it's weird and hard!"
"that's right, remove it."
huh? ya la but how?
so i hacked gingerly at it with the knife, then scraped and dug and prised out the little yellow seeds. and lopped off bits of fruitmeat with the centre. when i was done it had only a vague resemblance to the smooth crescents i normally ingest, which was quite depressing.
then to make it worse, eunice (my maid) came up and went:
"chambul"
me "huh?"
"ya, chambul. in indonesia we call it chambul."
me "ah, guava." *struggles to think of the chinese word for guava*
*gives up struggling and feels depressed*
this episode made me realise how little i knew about the guava, and i felt really disturbed. that i could eat a fruit for years and not know anything about it. heck, i don't even know its nationality! cutting fruits is really disillusioning. and guavas are disturbing fruits, really.
*sheesh, my talent for expounding on banality astounds me.
i think i am not made to work, my delicate, peeling blistered eczema-ed fingers chaffing at the thought of effort. what a relief it was to be relieved from promoting (vainly) expensive services just opposite bugis street! yes, bugis street, which was just CALLING out to us "come, come into my embrace, and empty your pockets into my waiting arms!" while sm and i stood tantalising near (but ohsofar) making absolutely no money from our 3hour endeavour. haha.
1. The Nodders
These are the ones who literally serve themselves to the doorstep, pressing their noses to the posters with their arms crossed. So we approach them enthusiastically and tell them about the services and the promotions. Then they'll nod, nod and say is it? what else? i see.
us: "so this one you get free gifts a+b+c"
"is it? what else?"
us: "ah, if you don't want free gifts can get discount; 20% off subscription!"
"is it? i see."
then they go nod-nodding off into the sunset, leaving us waving brochures at them in farewell, which they might or might not turn back to take.
2. The Freaked
They generally walk past and stare out of curiosity, but with a wary cannot-stare-too-long-in- case-they-talk-to-me vibe. So they end up darting quick glances at your posters furtively.
us: "mister, missus, would you like to take a look?"
interior monologue: "eee, bugs!!"
and scuttles away.
i mean, you Looked our way, right?
3. The Storytellers
In an ironic reversal of roles, these people, generally more, hmm, chronologically enhanced, walk up to us and regale, not joking, REGALE us with their lifestories and grievances about ahLee and co. Sm got caught by one who kept going on about his inexplicably expensive phone bills.
"do you believe, i have THREE phones, and i use them all myself! dunno what's going on, they charge me so much even when i don't use my phone AT ALL! (brandishes bill: ~$100!) now i want to cancel, but CANNOT. contract haven't expire!"
sm: "er uncle just pay them la, not worth it, pay so much every month."
"i also say! i'm going now, to ask them how much is it they want, i give! so expensive, cheat my money. (shows the bill again) now i use prepaid card better, so much cheaper!"
me: "wa, like that arh? then you should just go now and cancel!" (like, NOW!)
"yes, yes i'm going now..."
we make to turn.
"aiya! they sent me some voucher, for free phone. (whips it out) see, what are they saying, i don't read english! then still got some letter..."
at this, sm looks at the sky.
me: "ok uncle let me see..."
and so it goes on while the sky gets visibly darker... we take more steps backwards and our supervisor takes over the nodding so we can accost more unsuspecting passers-by.
afterwards...
me: "wa, his phone bills really very ex leh"
sm: "maybe huh, he thinks he's just talking a WHILE on the phone, like how he was talking a WHILE to us..."
so we fervently hoped that we wouldn't unwittingly morph into Story-regalers, and agreed to knock each other soundly on the head if we catch the other repeating something. or something like that.
well i guess it was really quite an experience, but you know, experiences should be of the once-in-a-lifetime sort.
