I'm just back from prawning! For those of you who have no idea what it is, it's like fishing for prawns in an aquarium. It was my first time "fishing" in my life (if you count that as fishing) and you know what? I loved it. I know why Karl Marx's utopia included fishing inside. There were so many couples fishing today, and they had different styles of interaction. There was this couple of which whom the girl was sitting on the guy's lap and leaning backwards on him like an armchair, each with a fishing rod in hand. Then there was another couple who sat side by side, the girl leaning her head on her boyfriend's shoulder, quietly chatting about god-knows-what but they kept smiling sweetly at one another. Then there was another couple that shared a fishing rod, but that guy was holding his girlfriend's hands and congratulating her every time she caught something (calming her screams and catching hold of the rod when she lets go of it as well).
Seriously, my observations are SO NOT subjective.
Besides the point, one thing I realize was that no one really did anything else besides fishing or talking. Well, some people were there alone fishing, but most people came in groups to fish, and there was much laughter and interaction. No one was using their mobile phones, no one was doing their readings, no one was checking emails on their laptops. Fishing breached the divide caused by new age technology for once. Of course it was also due to the fact that a minimum amount of constant attention was required lest you lose your bait. But overall, I enjoyed the company of my fellow youth groups members, laughing, talking, suaning one another. If not for the hefty price and ulu location, I think it'll be my new hobby.
No wonder Marx thought that the utopia was possible. If everyone went fishing in small little boats, the world would be a much nicer place. Maybe that's why Jesus picked fisherman as His first few disciples and the Lake of Galilee as a hideout during His time of ministry.
Oh just for the record, I broke my unlucky duck. I only stalled the car TWICE on Wednesday. For the last four lessons, it had been three times per two hour session each. And I find that as long as I'm relaxed, my car won't stall. My instructor is damn funny too. As long as everything is okay, he'll be talking about life with me. He's surprise I'm not attached. Can't blame him. He still thinks I'm an "ah sia kia" (I think it means rich kid) who has a Ferrari at home waiting for him to get a license. I still have no idea what is it about me that solidified that impression. I speak to him in broken Hokkien, wear specs and those black army polo tees (that army boys are forced to buy), old sports shoes, take the MRT to Bukit Gombak, pay in exact amounts, appear with an old-fashioned side parting hair, carry an ugly haversack, know where the public toilet is, and ask questions like, "When will I be able to start moving off from first gear as zai as those Comfort taxi drivers?" I don't wear expensive watches or accessories, speak in British English, throw my temper, wear branded clothing, get picked up by a chauffeur from the carpark after class, pay in huge wads of dollars, have extravagant hairstyles, have a branded, metrosexual clutch bag, asks where the toilet is and then tiptoe out with my fingers holding my nose, and ask questions like, "If I have a really good car, how can I zoom to 120km/h within the first 5 seconds of starting off?" Anyone with a good guess to why he thinks I'm an "ah sia kia" please please please let me know.
Oh, about mistaken identity. My urban sociology lecturer thinks I'm a metrosexual, and seriously can't believe that my mum buys my clothing for me. He announced it in front of the entire lecture theatre too. For the record, my mum buys 40% of my shirts, Nick buys 40% of them, 5% are from my friends as birthday gifts etc., and I buy the remaining 15%. I'm serious. To tip things off, the very next lesson, I was presenting to the class about my essay topic on metrosexuality, homosexuality and consumerism as a post-material lifestyle with a materialist behavior. The moment I mentioned the word "gay", Dr. P stopped me and said ,"You're researching on the gay community?" I paused, looked at him and said, "Yeah, is it alright?" He rolled his eyes, smiled at the class and gestured me to continue. I immediately became defensive (I still don't know why I did, but I did) and proclaimed, "I'm not gay." Immediately he shot back, "We didn't have to know that." The whole class roared with laughter. No, I wasn't embarassed. I was having the time of my life as well. But the nagging thought at the corner of my brain just grew a little bigger.
If my professors could suppose that I could be gay or metrosexual, what about other students? The possibility is even greater. Adding on the recent encounters with other gay or bi men over the past few years, I still don't know which part of me is giving the wrong intentions or signals. It was much better last semester (maybe when I'm in love it can be read from my face that "I'm booked" or something), this semester and the semester before last was just... wrong. Sigh.
"Ah sia kia", "metrosexual", "gay". What's next I wonder.
No comments:
Post a Comment