I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it." ― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
Woke up near dawn today. I was driving when I saw this car in front of me bearing a very peculiar number plate, starting with the letters G1M (snapped the pic below when it was red-light, haha). Recently there was this hot news of people in the city vying to get their best number (beginning with WWW). Maybe I should make a study of this - the obsession behind buying vehicle license plates at sky-high prices.
 |
| Generasi Satu Malaysia? G1M? |
Around 9 a.m. I decided to have a second breakfast at KFC. No, I didn't get beaten up bloody over the counter. Yes, it's not funny to crack KFC jokes any more. Sorry. I chose "a.m. platter combo" instead of "a.m. riser", just because I got allured by the ad below:
In reality, I received this:
Stark contrast. I really shouldn't get my hopes up high when it comes to fast food. Oh well. See the fake flowers below? There was one of such at each table, but only those tables near the windows had these floral arrangements, so to speak. I think they were there to lure the passers-by. What a strategy.
After breakfast (my second one, that is), I thought of reading some Sherlock Holmes stuff that I'd brought, but the noise along the corridors was so distracting that I had to give up reading. I surfed the Net instead. Even that proved to be a challenging feat. All the bickering, all the laughing, all the running. Too bad my 'mates weren't with me. We could've shown them some competition.
What to do? I turned to people-watching, trying to guess each passing student's background. Whether they had a bad hair day. Whether they were from last year's intake. Et cetera.
For lunch I decided to try out McDonald's Chicken Foldover. Supposedly it was introduced some years back, but I really had no memory of it. Here's an ad, looking real fresh and promising:
Let's snap back to reality:
Coke tasted like Coke. Fries tasted like fries. The foldover? The flatbread was fluffy enough for me to bite without looking like a barbarian. The sauce wasn't so good actually - it reminded me of extra-strong mayo (and sour) - but still passable. The two pieces of chicken looked suspiciously as though they were steamed or boiled, rather than "grilled", as promised in McDonald's advertisements.
One thing of note was the packaging. So thoughtful of them to include these instructions: first, "pull slightly along marked perforated line"; second, "pull off top of wrapper and enjoy".
I just yanked the whole thing off. It worked that way, too! The wrapper came off to reveal ...
not this, but the one below:
Shooting angle problem, I admit. Lighting problem too, if I might add. So convenient that whatever pictures these fast food chains put in their ads are duly presented along with a disclaimer in small-print: "for illustration purposes only".
My excuse for loitering at uni today was to register for my next semester's subjects. It could also be argued that I wanted an escape from my boring holiday routine. Or that I needed a warm-up before the new semester starts, to get me back on track of my student life.
Anyway, the registering itself was done in mere minutes (online), but before that there were lots of confused course mates thinking out loud at Facebook. I was a little confused as well, but I tried to help them out as far as I could. Some points I managed to clarify through cross-checking all the websites that we were given access to, others I responded to with small advices of my own. Some of my fellow course mates never even bothered to look through the guidelines or notices. Sigh. Lazy bums.
Fortunately, most of us early-birds were able to register before the servers crashed, somewhat later. Another sigh.
All in all, mission accomplished. I paid my parking ticket at the machine, which to my utmost surprise can now accept coins. Previously not a sen can go in, be it old or new. Now both kinds are acceptable, which is great, but the machines haven't learn to spit back extra coins yet. I lost 10sen to a machine. Good grief.
On my way back home I made a detour to my former secondary school to pick up my sister. I was early, again. It suddenly occurred to me that I might as well go get my 1119 cert while I was waiting. Into the school compounds I went.
The guards at the gates were new faces, with new uniforms. There was a small pool beside the gates. Feng shui? Not much has changed, actually. What I find unacceptable was this huge, rectangular LED display board hanging right outside the science labs. The board counts down impending exams and reminds everyone the date as well as the time of the day. Undeniably it's useful, but isn't it too fancy, like a pub at Chinatown? Glaringly red, too. Not to critisise or embarrass the school, but flashing "all teachers love you, students" is, to me, a rather huge, expensive, overstated and childish effort to .. what? Garner students' love and attention? Make them skip class less often? I couldn't help but smile an embarrassed smile to myself.
On my way up to the office, two little incidents happened. One: a teacher, on her way down, saw me and uttered a small shriek of surprise. I forgot her name but remembered her from my days in the afternoon session, so I chatted briefly with her. I gave her more explanations than questions, wondering whether she really knew me or just recognised me, this stranger who dressed differently. Two: another teacher along the corridor called "Boy!" and gestured to a box in front of her. She needed help with the box, I could see at once. Yet when my eyes met hers she smiled, embarrassed. Apparently she was addressing somebody further down the corridor, not me. I turned on the spot and entered the office straightaway.
There were two teachers in the office. Afternoon sessions'. I knew their faces but could not recall their names, until now. One of them speedily helped me to find my cert. While I was putting down my signature, I hastily glanced through the namelist and found few other signatures were there. I thanked the teacher and smiled briefly before I went back out.
Satisfied, I headed straight for the gates. I did not dare to venture any other way; since my present identity is ex-student, I was granted much less freedom to roam the school freely. Neither did I approach my former teachers. Not even any of my favourite ones. Not now. Another time, with a bigger crowd and a merrier atmosphere would be my choice.
The guard at the gates who let me in glanced at me once when I passed him by. I gave him a nod and a smile, since he was looking my way as though to demand a thank-you.
I did fetch my sister, after waiting for some time (apparently I was too early, she said). She asked, once she got into the car, "didn't you see me?"
Of course I did. And much more.
