Today I got pissed off at work for the first time. Some customer came in to rent some stuff and he had two outstanding late fees that amounted to 36 bucks. He insisted that they weren't late and that his son had returned them on time, but I told him that the computer showed that they had been returned late. So he got angry with me, and he refused to pay the fine, which I had kindly reduced to 10, and he insisted that I print out the damned fine for him even though he didn't want to pay me. He wanted to complain to the manager and he proclaimed that he was never ever going to come back here, and as for those VCDs, he wasn't going to borrow them. I got so pissed with the way he insinuated that I was trying to cheat him of his pathetic 10 dollars, and I was also pissed that he was taking it out on me when I have nothing to do with his stupid fine, so while he was ranting on and on I just walked away from the counter. Later he came back and apologised to me. But not after one explosion to my cuperviser, a second one to a colleague and an attempt to bar him from the store. I got my revenge by taking my anger out on the next ten or so ang moh customers, because I felt that they were low-class, facetious and racist bums. Hate them.
Anyway at least he was gracious enough to apologise, many people would not have bothered, so while no one has ever made me so angry at work before, he was also the only one to humble himself by saying sorry in front of my superviser and like, two other customers.
So this brings me to my thought of the day. Would I ever date or marry an ang moh? About five hours ago, I had my heart set on getting hitched to a Chink. Only Chinese guys are refined and dignified. Look at these bloody Caucasians. They're either drunk or retarded. It's brought to my attention the truth behind a particular seniors' words. I don't remember exactly what she said. But I know what she means now. The same cultural background. The same foundation in a [pseudo] racially tolerant society. The same values. The same mode of upbringing. The same language. Give me my personalized Ah Beng now, can?

posted by beautiful at 6:07 am

Telephone Conversation with Mr Cook
Cook: I'd like to know when you did A level Chinese and A level GP?
Me: I didn't. I did AO.
Cook: Well, your UCAS application states that you did A level Chinese and GP.
Me: *draws a big breath* Did I really make such a mistake? Oh no, I'm really sorry..
Cook: I had to log in to your account with a new password and change everything. You had 5 A level subjects.
Me: I'm really sorry, Mr Cook, is there anything I have to do?
Cook: *sigh* No I've done it all already, but your UCAS application might be late to University College and I'm not sure if they'll take you seriously. You theatre studies students are a pain in the arse.
Me: I'm really, really sorry.
Cook: Hang on.
-crappy music plays for 2 seconds-
Cook: Right, that was some music I have to soothe my nerves in case I get a heart attack.
Me: Umm. Oh no.
Cook: Well that's all. Bye.
Me: Ok, bye.

Daph and I went back to school today to have lunch and visit Lofty. I expected to feel terribly awkward, insecure and out of place, but strangely enough I felt right at home in the studio. Sure, I wasn't wearing a T-shirt and shorts like the rest of the newbies but it didn't make me feel as if I was sticking out. If anything, I felt that these were, in a way, my friends. It was so comforting to lie on the floor and take deep breaths, the way we all used to during past workshops. I felt a bit rusty as I did some mirror work with Daphne, like I wasn't really sure what was going on and how to do it. I was half afraid I'd look stupid in front of everyone, and most of all, in front of Lofty. But those anxious feelings went away and I managed to have a decent time. Seeing Joanna's Joan of Arc sack hanging in the costume room was somehow painful, a reminder of something that used to be. I'm a year 3 now. But in so many ways, I'm still a year 1, because like these idealistic theatre students, I am also embarking on a new station in life. That short and enjoyable contact with the past was brought abruptly to an end with our symbolic removal from the course. I can't put it down here in words, the memory is too unreal, and also too painful to describe. It might be a removal, but I think I'm not going to disappear just yet, I'll probably linger in the background for a while.
Do you remember the pictures we took at our duologue as year ones? Both in and out of character? Daphne Lim has done an outline of that same picture on white paper and labelled us all individually, so that Lofty will never ever forget our names and faces. I hope I never forget our names and faces. Long live TSD 2001.

posted by beautiful at 4:42 am

I never expected that I'd have time to quarrel with my mother since I spend 10 hours a day at work, 2 on the road, and the rest sleeping. But yes, miracles happen. I quarelled with her over breakfast, then over the phone while I was at work. And that conversation precipitated a whole chain of disasters, ie. the Spain trip is currently cancelled. I am disappointed and my prospective travel partner is disappointed, and it's nobody's fault. It's just another of those tragedies that keep happening to me.
It's always been my dream to go to Spain. A dream that sustained me through the last exhausting year. I am currently working my ass off to try and materialise that dream, but hell it's just been shoved back in my face.

posted by beautiful at 5:33 am