i am having a terrible diarrhoea.
my dad wanted to try the infamous rojak pasembor @ padang kota lama so much as per recommended by his colleague, so we went there and apparently it was hawkers' court, with very cramped visitors and terrible drainage system - mind you the stench. they are some rohingya children selling tissues too and you know, syndicate... all in all, very unhygienic place. you can see the floor is neither sweeped nor mopped, and vendors would crowd you the moment you sit to take order. peak survival thing.
there was the vast sea in front of the hawkers' stall perfect for tourist's attraction. by the hallway there's an elderly busking 70s malay songs. some balloon artists dressed themselves as clowns and characters from children's side of youtube.
look what the craving costed us... we were practically hogging the toilet last night.
during the car ride back to my hometown today, i keep pondering about this making a living thing. oh how hard is it to put food on the table and the recent tiktok trend of the could've-been occupations, could've-dreams if it weren't for the need to survive living with bucks. my dad was driving again while my stomach churned as the chi kit teck aun pill given by my mom settled my inside, and he talked about how the short story competitions i won could be used in my resume.
like, no, writing is one of the God's gifts that i am most grateful for, but in my field of future work (if i get to compelete this damn degree) they won't count. science people majorly, especially those who are not mutually exclusive in their interests about art, look down on this, don't they.
it's still crystal clear in my mind how my science teacher in high school was talking about fibre optic, the miracle of it being able to convey information, and this were her exact words: if this doesn't pique your interest or curiosity, you better go take literature. cause we were science stream students, still, i was partly hurt because i value art and literature just as much, but then again maybe it's just me being a snowflake.
just
a random diarrhoea rant.
//
we later dropped by cameron highland and passed by the first strawberry farm there, now closed for good. there are lots of small stores by the roadside with scant or no customers at all, humbled down by the competition of newer organised stores with parking lots. easier to shop for longer and safer too. cameron highland is exceptionally busy today, cars non-stop cruising down the roads.
when i go to somewhere unfamiliar, particularly a town, i always imagine myself working and spending the rest of my life there. i feel boxed when i do so, but i can't help it.
i wonder if people from other places see us in the same light.
even when i am in the kitchen with my great granny, i can't help but think: ah, it's such a lonely place to spend the rest of my days. she's nearly ninety now... it always makes me think.
yeah.
