How the funk did I write the previous entry (I am the blushing of the red cheeks, although they are tanned)? Dear readers, I don’t make things up. I wrote what I experienced and what I remembered. They might not be the exact situation and the exact lines but they happened and there were some lines which were exactly as what I remembered them. I don’t intend to garner sympathy or brownie points (but I like brownies!). Hopefully, by the end of this chronicles, the title will make sense.
After SPM, my mother discouraged me from going to work or apply for any part-time jobs. She didn’t want money to alter my motivation or direction. I wanted to try to work but she refused permission. She was afraid to risk it. So I spent the holiday doing…wow I couldn’t remember. It must’ve been so insignificant to not be remembered. Hmmm now I’m not happy to not be able to remember. Kampung jobs, fishing, playing my Sega Genessis, tinkering with the PC, karaoke, driving license, meeting old friends….my oh my. I do remember one thing, during my driving training, the instructor was trying to cut short on my actual road session, so he would use the shortest route. At first, I was unaware of his plan, the session was supposed to be a 1 hour driving around, but because of my unawareness, it became a 30 min leisure/speedy drive. So, on realising that, I drove as slowly as I could, like 30-40 km/h and acting all scared and newbie. I would let go of the clutch and the car would jerk forward and I would try to start the car without freeing the gear first, heh, naughty stuff. In the end I managed to drag it to an hour of troublesome, rookie driving experience. Come test day, easy peasy japanesy.
I got my driving license and became my mother chauffeur. I had to endure her yelling and nagging early on though because I would either be too fast, too slow, or the turn radius was too big, or too small, or I was in the wrong gear until,” Ma, rilek ma, jangan la pressure pressure wa masa driving”, and all was good after that statement.She stayed quiet and I could sense her eagerness to point out something while I was driving. I smiled too myself. Tersimpul-simpul senyumnya.
SPM result, it was mediocre for an SBP student. But if we were to use the old aggregate system I would have gotten 7th aggregate. We were the first batch to use the Opened System. Enough about that. I was not expecting a good result. My mother was a bit disappointed, she expected me to perform as good as I did during PMR. There was a sense of guilt but the damage had been done. There was no use dwelling on past mistakes. I would not deny my jealousy of seeing those who gotten straight As.
I submitted application to overseas universities just to please my ego. One replied, it was The University of Notre Dame in the U.S and A (not in France). The fee? 10k usd per semester. The exchange rate was 1USD=RM3.8. So for a 5 year degree course, the amount would total up RM380,000. Nah, no thanks.
UPU application- all the courses that I applied for would either be aeronautical, aerospace or engineering-ish. “Boleh ke kamu bawak subjeknye nanti?” my mother asked when she read my application. “Jangan riso le ma”, my typical response. She insisted that I applied for matriculation program too, I did just to please her. I read about matriculation certificates to be useless and nil of value at that time, so I decided I would not accept any matriculation offer even if it came with ribbons and all the fluffiness.
One day, I received a letter from JPA to attend an interview for overseas program in STAR, Ipoh. I was excited. Go go ego.
Interview day. I failed myself. I was slouching during the interview. I did not even manage to say the details of my biodata right. “You learnt french before?” asked one of the interviewers after reading my short essay. “Yes sir, I was 10 years old. My mother bought the book and cassette. So I was learning on my own”. I proceeded to do a demo for them, “Commentalle-vous aujord hui? Bien merci, et vous?” (Kome talle vu ojho du-i. Bi-en, megh-si. Ehh vu?) and so on. They were impressed at first. “When did you learn this?” “About 20 years ago”, I answered. On realizing my mistake, I stammered and failed to connect all the data of myself throughout the Q and A. 20 years…I was 17 going 18. Tangan ke dahi.
Then came an offer for matriculation program in Londang, Melaka. “EEE pegi London!” my mother would joke. It was for Sains Hayat, for those who aspired to be a doctor. I told my mother I did not want to become a doctor. “Kita pergi tengok dulu, rezeki dekat mana-mana wa”. So off we went to London, I mean Londang. I have made up my mind. No matriculation for me. I was willing to gamble it all. Give me university or give me nothing. She was frustrated to see my reaction. Dry and emotionless. Man, rasa nak tolak dari tempat terjun kat swimming pool tu. Yang paling tinggi sekali.
Luckily a few weeks after, an offer from UiTM came, was for Diploma in Aerospace Engineering, EM113 in Shah Alam Selangor. I think they abolished it already now. Aerospace….macam gempak. How naive and ignorance I was. It was a great program, but due to the local industry demands there were some unseen surprises. I was oblivious to what the industry actually needed. Will elaborate on that in the next episode. Tungguuu……
Mr Zinedine Yazid Zidane, my favourite footballer of all time. When he retired, though ugly, my interest in football kinda retired with him. Mengada-ngada. I can talk about him for hours. He moved a nation (France), fooled a nation (Brazil-watch the 2006 quarter final, you will see what I mean) and headbutted a nation (Italy). The last one was kinda hmmm. I love Zidane! (Echoes)