rewind, play, fast-forward

An old friend mentioned that the fraught silence -- on my part -- somehow, has modulated into conciliatory monosyllable. And now, it should be back to its peaceful coincidence, I think.

Intentional or coincidental -- I think quitting is easier than giving up. Running away is easier than moving on. Seeing is easier than watching. Above all, looking back is thoughtlessly, easily, manoeuvred.

I remember I was once late to meet up with him in the heart of KL city. No, I wasn't late. In fact, I cancelled it. Because of the rain.

Rain pelted my formal working clothes as I ran down the sidewalk, dodging puddles scattered along my usual path to the Kelana Jaya car park. Five minutes later, I was in the warm and squeaky interior of Savvy. I settled down, gazed at the water cascading down the window, and listened to the windshield wipers patiently groaning back and forth. I was relieved that the wettest part of my day was over; the storm would clear up by an hour and I would see him unscathed. As it turned out, I was only the latest in a long list of unfortunate people who tried to anticipate the actions of a very fickle Mother Nature.

Later, it was still raining with vengeance. I found myself looking out the window at the torrential downfall (a little more minor, of course, English rain, ya' know?), this time from the Reading Bus 21. It was Friday, and everyone crooned to their family members, friends, or even newly met people who were clearly sedated with anticipation of the weekend. I, on the other hand, was pre-occupied with greater masalah negara: namely, how I was going to cross the street, from the central town of Reading for Thomas Cook's currency exchange, to the Oracle Riverside for Doubt, and then, to Friar Street for dim sum - all in the midst of this terrible squall. I mentally kicked myself for leaving my umbrella in the room. Someone pressed the bell and many sprung to life with a newfound vigour. Strange, I knew.

Either because I did not want to deal with my friend who has an affinity for punctuality, or because I was way too lazy to make a four-flight pilgrimage to Thomas Cook, I chose to stop by McD for a packet of chips, and ran to Vue Cinema on the opposite end - all without an umbrella. Because of the rain.

The adrenaline kicked in as I approached the entrance of Vue Cinema. Yes, I, Chong Jiang Mun, was about to embark on a daring journey across the bridge, relying solely on my acumen and superb knowledge of the terrain. I blew past a group of hesitant onlookers and into the heart of rain, running hard to watch Meryl Streep in action. I carefully weaved around various puddles (deftly stepping on others in the process), and all the while the rain soaked my jacket.

Drenched, wet, dirty, messy: I miss the rain. I miss the rain in Malaysia - the thunder, the lightning, the whistling sounds of strong wind, the fear and trepidation that accompanies it, and the sense of tranquillity that leaves with it.

And now, the lack of rain brings all the tragedies of my life to a level of acknowledgement:

1. Missing CARMEN at Royal Albert Hall. Seriously, seriously, seriously...WHY ME? *emo*

2. Hair loss. Hair loss. HAIR LOSS. What if it is some form of permanence?! Yes, don't you dare say the B-word. *hyperventilates*

3. I just heard from a friend that so and so is getting married/engaged at the age of 22, 21, 20 or younger. Sei for. I haven't even gotten myself a boyfriend YET. Holy mother cow! Does this mean "He's Just Not That Into You" can be the story of my life too? Wait, does this mean I am going to be a rule of the rules, and not an exception? This, I call it masalah negara.

4. "Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone." - Father Brendan Flynn, "Doubt". It scares the hell out of me to know that everyone can be a doubter, yet, a believer at the same time. So, are we meant to live in this grey area? Are we not to live in a world of right or wrong -- but with mere greater permissibility?

5. Malaysian Night -- Negaraku. The script writing. The directing of the play. The actors. The organisation of it. The people. The leaders. The followers. The politics. The gossip. This is why I can't quite place if it was a tragedy because of the many lessons I learnt, or just like any other eventful chapter for the experience I gained? Anyway, it should deserve a different entry altogether; in the hope that the procrastinator me doesn't kick in long enough.

On a happier note, I just realised that chivalry IS NOT dead. Why-lah didn't I think of dating you back then?