Thank you Ady, for mugging with me in the morning till late afternoon and later surprising me by calling at around 8pm checking to see if i’m back home and then allowing Hady’s soulful crooning to reverberate in my ears.

Thank you Cute Guy Behind the Counter, for accompanying me to get strings and talking with me when i’m all alone taking breaks between books, looking like the sad nerd that I am. And thank you for asking for my number haha..

Thank you Claire Piggy, for mugging with me from late afternoon till nightfall and choosing great books for me to read over the weekend. And please thank Moolah baby too, for allowing me to use his library card.

Thank you Kak Nur and Abang Jay (hahah new friends I made at the cafe), for all the laughter you guys gave, making my studying much more fun then it could ever be.

And a huge Thank You and Big Hug and Kisses, to a new friend i’ve made, Siva. Hoho.. Shit babe, i hope you’re reading this, cuz good things have been happening to me since we’ve started becoming friends haha. Thanks for the encouragements, frank talks and the tutorials. I really appreciate em all.

* * * * *

On another note,

As i stepped into the last cabin of the Boonlay bound train, i noticed the commuters looking rather shifty and in discomfort, either whispering to each other, or just looking down twiddling their thumbs, seemingly as if they were cohesively trying to avoid a common object.

As i stepped deeper into the end, I overheard muffled sounds over the music thumping from my headphones, a puzzling issue since my headphones are always turned on at full blast. I removed them, and then it dawned on me why the commuters were so restless and shifty.

Standing/sitting around on the butt of the train, was a family of 7.

The father, shaven head, chunky silver jewelery, a handphone draped around his neck playing music at full blast (which resulted in the muffled sounds I overheard). The mother, with her long ‘rocker’ hair, black lips probably due to excessive smoking, unkempt dishevelled clothes. The uncle, unkempt as well, slurring his words when he speaks (probably due to a handicap, assuming from the way he carries himself).

And the children. 4 in all. The eldest - a boy probably 12 years of age, but surely who has seen the pits of life, his loud boastful voice echoing in the silenced carraige, through lips black as charcoal, ciggaratte box in pocket. And 3 young maidens, innocent beauties wrapped in dull faded dresses which have seen better times.

I shifted my focus from them, and to the people around. Men in brisk suits, women in sharp blouses and starched skirts, educated. Books, gadgets in hand. Their eyes darting away, trying not to give accusatory looks, trying not to stare. And yet at times they fail, when the music suddenly gets too loud, or when the eldest started shouting, or when the 3 young maidens started giggling and pushing each other around, leading to the father or mother yelling for them to shut up.

I can’t help but feel emotional. I don’t know what to make of what I felt, and I teared. I wanted so much as to remove that look in their eyes, to shut the stupid music, to grab the children and tell them that they can escape from that cycle they are in now. I want to, but I don’t know how to.

They need to get out of the cycle. They can be shaped. They can.. but who’s gonna lead them? Sigh. It would be a huge pity if the young ones go astray… A huge pity.

* * * * *

My school’s creating a Yoga record tomorrow. Yes, that’s what we do. We make world records and build fountains, and then listen to the so-called principal whining about not having enough money and then proceeding to announce that he has hundreds of MOE complaints about himself but he doesn’t give a shit.