'we are moving'

The banner screamed in a loud boring font, no doubt with the desperation of a priest surrounded by prostitutes.

'We' as in St Andrew's Junior College.

Or as they so religiously (read: ridiculously) brand themselves as 'saints'.

My foot...

Every time I think of my 'fostering mother', I feel ambivalent.

That tie! (My throat aches at the memory.)

Those GODforsaken rooms!

That's not a running track! It's a worn out carpet, for crying out loud.

First, that god awful-navy blue-boa constricting-fabric dog chain.

I can't begin to count how many I've lost for rebelling against wearing it.

I usually sandwiched it in a chic file (a must-have accessory favoured by most ridicule conscious collegians) and once in a while, Chic would just spit it away in disgust like a French belle tasting an American hamster.

I never washed my tie. Every weekend, I'd drowned that sartorial serpent in my old man's Drakkar Noir, hoping it'll mask the sweat and grime.

For quarter of a year, my mates avoided me like the plague.

That's not all.

Imagine this:
1. Choking in that hangman's noose trying to work through a brain-killing and ultra boring GP topic headed by a scowling pompous bitch of a (un)civic tutor...

2. Cramped in a dingy sardine-can classroom with a corridor running on the INSIDE of the room (YES, some fucking misguided archimoron, with delusions of the Centre Pompidou in France, designed a row of classes with one wall missing and a corridor linking the first class and the last)...

3. During the MERciless mid-afternoon heat and glare...

4. With oily fumes wafting in your face and hair as the western food auntie, chap chai perng uncle and roti john encik below your class are physically assaulting their woks and pans like STOMP a la hawker centre.

*growling rotweiller face with fumes spewing from ears and nose*

And then there's morning chapel every Friday morning.

A snore-inducing period of super fucking boring proselytising and holier than thou pontificating in the auditorium about how the world is a much better place (for sinning?!) because of blahblahblah and all that pathetic relijazz.

'Ho wow. Hot damn! Holy fucking shit! I feel clean and renewed already! Who's lecture shall we skip today?

***

When I think of 'Ass-ay' during a I-just-got-my freelance payment mood, it's not the school that is the sum of all things. But rather, a motley crew of characters that constitutes that 'Flowers In The Wondow' feeling.

In a flash, I recalled some memorable amigos a la '90 for my own musing:

Sha - short, loquacious, intelligent, witty, mischievous, resourceful, articulate, entrepreneurial, simply swell. My Great Counsel, kakak and punching bag. Now busy farming little rich kids in Bandung, waiting to harvest them into wealthy crops of revenue. The hours and hours of pomp and prep for the Bali Exhibition. Talks at the Lower Cafe. The delicious and fun Hari Raya home lunch where Eila, Alv and I all went on MC for diarrhoea the next day.

Ike - beefy, virile, gentlemanly, steadfast, sarcastic, anglophile, dutiful, fair, classy, sociable, simply reliable. A fellow Libran who enjoys his Rambo, Arnie, Magnum P.I. and punishing weight reps as much as he appreciates his Emma Peel, Jeeves and Wooster and green tea. The clever one-liners at the back rows of the lecture hall. The Sergio Leone showdown at the basketball court over 'monopolising issues'. The detached sageness.

Eila - statuesque, sarong party girl, striking, scatological, glib, hilarious, mature. Champion of a hard-won battle (with the principal's endorsement) against a hateful civic cat of a class tutor. A last encounter saw this babe on her way to toast master stardom.

Roly - buxomy, argumentative, humourous, brainy, multi-lingual, industrious. Now farming children in Milan as Signora Rinaldi (or Garibaldi or SOMEthing like that lah). Chats on home trips. A winning chocolate chip cookie recipe.

Laudi - rotund, observant, amiable, thoughtful, artistic, perceptive, clean. Now an unwedded mother of twins.

Yna - becoming, brassy, eloquent, infectious, knowledgeable, fashionable, melodious. Now an academician.

Lison - bisonish, stocky, sardonic, head annoyingly tilted in the clouds, 'oh Nigel, my love!', 'I have perfect eyesight you know!' (stupid cow, only in ONE eye lah). A little bird last spied this she-bison astriding a Harley with her arms snugly around a leather biker, very much like that cheesy TV beer ad of eons ago.

Poh - midgety, athletic, sporty, assertive, discerning, determined, well-liked. My only fellow Newtowner in the quirky Arts Fac. Soccer maniac (blurghhh). A last gossip heard this dynamo lost in translation in Tokyo.

Sley - fit, dry, artistic, devil may care.

Wend - fast, loud, extravagant, rich bitch.

Ryl - school slut. period.

Ah yes, the beauty of selective flash memory.

Highly skewed, Rashomonish, opinionated, but personal, amusing, sweet. I can't possibly note every darn person or stuff (it'll need an entire website), and I don't want to!

In the end, my response and attitude towards the banner message was: be my guest!