2009-02-23 - 10:09 p.m.
So many interesting things happened for the past week, but I haven't had a chance to write them all down here. Maybe I should try my friend Ro's way: compiling a whole week in an entry.:) But surely, I still have my own writing style.
Something happened on Wednesday morning after my FCE mock test on reading comprehension. I finished quickly - five minutes earlier to be exact. The teacher told me I could wait outside for a while before the next test - use of English - began.
I obeyed and found an empty chair outside. I had my notebook and pencil case with me. I was pondering for a possible new entry when a shadow fell on my open book. I quickly looked up.
Ms.Tati the FCE teacher was standing right in front of me. She's a fine, wise old lady with a soft voice and a calming smile. But please, don't ever be fooled by all of that and her small feature. Her eyes demand respect and discipline.
"I know you like to read," she started. "Do you need a magazine while waiting? I've got Readers' Digest in my office."
"No, thank you, ma'am," I refused politely with a smile. I lightly tapped my pen on my notebook. "I'm thinking about writing something here."
"Really?" Now she was obviously interested. "What is it?"
I briefly showed her my already written pages. My entries, all in English. Some were already posted on my blogs. Her eyes widened in awe. She thought that I should've had my writings published. I just smiled, saying that it was my freelance job. But most still got rejected. However, I never stop.
"What are you writing about here? Are these private?"
"Many things." And yes, some are (supposed to be) private. Some I've posted on my blogs - anonymously. So, people don't know my real name, but they can guess my personality from the things I write about. In this real, busy adult life - not many have the time for tales lately. No, not that much, I'm afraid. But online, I'm like the nameless, faceless main character in my own adventure tales. People may speculate all they like about me, for not many know (or even want to) the real me.
"I'm impressed on your assignment on informal letter writing," she complimented. Then she went on, "By the way, who's the boy you were writing to? Is he real?"
*sighs*
I somehow knew this was coming. His name is quite distinctive in my part of the world. I love his name, just like the person himself.:) His name means: innocence. From there, I can tell just how much his parents love him and have great hopes for him.
"Yes, he is." He's as real as the air that I breathe, 'though it's way too impossible for me to really touch him or feel him close. He's just not there. Somehow, I have to keep reminding myself of that simple, bitter fact.
"How long have you two known each other?"
"For years." but somehow, it feels like a lifetime. Good and bad times, laughter and tears - all rolled into one.
"Is he your boyfriend? Where is he now?"
"No, he's just my best friend." I gave her a rueful smile. Just, I had to emphasize on that particular word, but I still love him anyway. "He's in Manchester."
"Ahh, long distance." Her tone was all too familiar. Oh, God. Why couldn't I just drop this subject and just kindly tell her that I wanted to get back to my writing?:( "How old is he?"
"Twenty-three." Since last month. Just half a decade younger than me. Is that a problem?
"And you are?"
"Twenty-seven." Okay. Bring it on.
"And he means so much to you."
Yes. Oh, how I hate my eyes sometimes.:( Was she a psychic too, or had my eyes given too much away again?*blushes*
"I suspect he must be your first love."
"No, not exactly." I still remember Joza. I had feelings for Joza for three years in college, but then they simply died. But when I told her that, she just smiled knowingly and shook her head slowly.
"No, dear," she said softly. "First love never dies, remember? He is, in fact."
Scratch that, I thought gloomily. I was sure she'd meant 'true love'. As much as I hated to hear that, she was dead right.
But still, it hurts.:( Fate is cruel sometimes...
And then she went on about how a girl should find someone older, because women tend to grow (and look) older than men.:( I tried telling her that he was different. He's even more mature and sensible than me. Besides, age is (supposed to be) just a freaking number, right? Right??
But in the end, she just wished me luck - just like any good soul I know.:) She said a girl like me deserved true happiness.
Honestly, I need more than just luck in this department. I also need God's blessings too.
*deep sigh*
On Thursday, Via asked me if I was okay. She said I looked as if I was thinking hard about something...or someone. Once again, my eyes just gave me away. I guess some conversations can haunt you.
On Friday, I tried singing to Michael Jackson's classic ballad "One Day In Your Life" on the radio at work. I couldn't.:( Why? My throat always felt clogged, as if I could burst into tears anytime soon.:P Shanti thought I was being too sensitive. Gigi said that was what made me a good writer, hehe.:P
On Saturday, I substituted for Via's private tutoring in the morning. Then I hung out with Gigi and her college friends Lubna and Julie at Cilandak Townsquare.
On Sunday, I woke up late and missed Kompas newspapers. It was already sold out.
Damn...:(
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