My best friend of the High School of Torture got married last weekend. I am really happy for her and she looked beautiful, big thanks to baby Elle, the burly trans make up artist. She/he gave the name ‘baby’ a new meaning. Hehe. Out of the sudden today, I started reminiscing how we used to be, (me and my best friend not me and baby Elle).
Exactly 10 years ago we were two puny teens struggling for our sanity in boarding school. We had only each other to cry on each other’s shoulders, literally. And on some occasion a macho-er friend will be our sidekicks, but she rarely broke down like us indulging in crying when our tudungs weren’t perfect. It wasn’t vanity, the school sucked us dry. Me and just married bestfriend were picked on left, right and center. I was never much an emotional person till I landed in that school. All is not lost, some things were cool there like how I learnt to speak Kelantanese. A humbling experience.
On a non related incident, I work in the side of town where the crowd is almost conservative where I guess in their life, they’ve never heard of holding the lift door or letting a woman out of the door first is considered polite. It is common sense like to let the person IN the lift/train to get out first before rushing in, but let’s not go there. Today I had the most pleasant experience of a very elderly gentlemen fit to be my grandfather holding the glass door open for me before he lets himself in. How nice is that? I know there was no ulterior motive of being an orang tua miang. My heart just glowed after that, bless you kind old man.
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3 comments:
those are the real gentlemen. nowadays, i hold the door for the men. tsk.
u coming back esok is it?
i am back in the city already. lets hang. im getting restless.
im back. hang, we must. :)
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