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I never really met him again, though my friends from his school tell me that he "bought" a little ensemble of cronies, who would herald his arrival anywhere. I'm not that bothered really. I just hope that money went towards his education so that he would have a hope in hell in life. Surely that money won't last.
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Hahahahaha, irony ftw.
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Ambi, I can relate as I used to get criticised in kindergarten for my post-modern approach to art. I liked drawing images just in yellow. And my Pollock-style paintings were something to behold. But my peers and teachers just didn't get me.
Then there was the fact that my teacher used to bitch to my parents about how lazy and crap I was. I hope she felt embarrased when they found out I was practically blind. |
Ha. In preschool, they would always call my mother because I was biting other children again. No joke. What can I say, the world was a big playground in my eyes, and if something bit me, I bit back, literally.
When second grade came, my mother had me spend my after school hours over at a Jewish community center because she had to work. It was an awsome building, the entire exterior of the building was covered with multicolored tiles and there was a big hand clock with the numbers written in Hebrew. There was an enormous amount of activities that they would take us to. The highlight of it was this girl who also stayed there after school named Sherie who I would sneak away with and cause mischief with, although there was this stereotypical Jewish kind named David would would always be screaming about how he couldn't find his yarmulka. I would keep kicking him until he stopped. Oif, I was so mean back then. |
My earliest memories in hong kong. I was stung by mosquito. I remember my grandma laughing while putting cream on me. I think 2 or 3 cause I was walking by then. I was playing with my neighbours(relatives) Mitchell and Mathis. I recall they were bullies of me. Once they pushed me or something like that and I scrapped my knees. There was no grass where I lived. All concrete. It is blurry.
One dominant memory was playing with doors locks. I remember locking myself in the bathroom. Just say when I closed it...I couldn't reached the lock anymore. I cried in cantonese,'I want out, I want out.' Scarist moment of my life. How did I get out? I can't remember...probably feel sleep while people broke the lock. I like to think that I took a stool and let myself out:) I was told that never stopped me from playing with doors |
I remember one time I had a stomach bug and had thrown up several time but when my mum dropped me off at my paternal grandparents, she forgot to tell my dad about it so he was convinced that it was all in my head. First he told me that my grandmother was a nurse (which she actually had been during the war) and she could tell that I wasn't sick. When I held out he told me that my grandfather had x-ray vision and could see into my stomach to say that it was all okay in there. Needless to say, I wasn't convinced.
If I was smarter, I would have thrown up on him, just to prove my point. :D |