Lest I Forget #7 - I too was a young lad once...

I feel a sudden urge to reminisce. Which kinda explains why I am writing this post.
Shoot. This is one of the hallmarks of middle age syndrome - looking back. I hate looking back sometimes, because I will remember the countless mistakes I have done and all the stupid senseless irresponsible things that I committed. But this post is about all the other things. Things worth remembering. Things worth reminiscing.
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I loved short shorts. While all my peers longed for the day when they would "graduate" into long shorts, thus visibly showing their seniority, I preferred shorts one... how shall I put it.... it was more airy. If it was socially acceptable, I would prefer to have been a pure Scottish, that way I could wear an airy kilt without fear of mockery.
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At the back of my school was a huge drain. There were many times when I would play hookey and waste the day away along the drain. It was like a gettaway, a secret fortress if you will. And My friends and I would be the gatekeepers. We would go about with bottles catching drain fish, using empty cassette tapes to catch spiders (blue fighting spiders were the rarest, according to a panel of 13 yr old experts anyway), traumatize the neighbourhood cat, fun times.
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Along the drain was a street by the name of fido lane. I always thought the people living on that street were a priviledged bunch, not because the house were huge, but because I had this insane idea that they were all related to fido dido. The mascot for 7-up. Those days, power rangers and pokemon hadn't come along. Fido Dido was cool, fido dido was king.
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I remember buying ice popsicles from a neighbouhood auntie. She was selling them illegaly. She had heaps of unconventonal flavours - like milo and ovaltine and Sarsi and sprite and coke. I love the milo one, cost me 30 cents, a pretty penny in those days. She sold them off her back yard, and we had to use a rock to hit her metal grill to make loud clanging noises the catch her attention. She would always be annoyed when we did that. She would be all grumpy and we could sense it from the way she asked ".... yah... what flavour?" We as kid endured this harsh treatment because we knew that a icy cold milo stick was only moments away. Mmmmm...
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I remember falling down in the drain once. My pants were all slimy but I still had to go to class. I got a thorough beating by my dad for playing hookey so I could not miss this class. I endured slimy pants for a good day. This time it was my mum who gave me a thorough beating for making a mess out of my newly laundered pants.
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In my time, we were not allowed to wear sports shoes to school. I remembered the reason being somewhere along the lines of... not everyone can afford it, so if only one or two in school wore it, it would give the school a very elitist image, it was something the principal could not afford. So for the most of us, we had to wear typical white canvas shoes which we had to white wash everyday. I still remember the brand BATA - BM2000 Turbo. Almost the entire school population wore it because it was ubiquitous and affordable.
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I remember having a very hearty appetite in school as well. I only got about $2 per day as allowance. I would plan my meals to make to most out of the 2 bucks I had. And no, I never even thought about savings then. I made it my life's mission to spend my 2 bucks wisely on food at recess. This boy wasn't about to go hungry. No Sireeee.
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I remember having to change the size of my school pants repreatedly because I was putting on so much weight. My mum had to buy >>> then alter >>> then buy a bigger size >>> then alter >>> the cycle went on like that. I was a big boy. I was a very fat boy. I think if not for my very large girth, I would have been very miserable at school. I was rather shy but I was fortunate too. The many people who made fun of this fat boy, a few of them remained and became my best friends in school. They later became my buddies who would beat anyone who gave me crap because of my weight. I was happy.
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I remember my first friend in school. His name was wei qiang. I treated him as a friend but he treated me as an acquantance. Nevertheless, I would be around him because I think he was the person (size and personality) that I saw myself desiring to be. Once, in a very rude awakening, I stumbled upon my mum's large vanity mirror. I saw the person in the mirror and actually asked my mum "who is he?" I refused to believe that I looked like that. I should have looked exactly like wei qiang, not like the short stumpy guy in the mirror. True, at such a tender age, my weight became the tool i used to determine my self-worth. Even now, I still battle with those monsters, I still - from time to time - loathe the man in the mirror, I still feel that my self worth is inversely proprotional to my weight. I actually still do think that no one will ever love me because I'm fat.
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Oops. This post was supposed to be about things worth remembering. I let the last point - a negative last point slip through. Nevermind. I think that bambi is the only person reading my posts anyway, and I do not mind revealing some of my insecurities to that said individual.
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The night is bright this evening. I think that paints a pretty picture of who I am thus far. I feel like a creature of the night, comsumed by the desires of the day. I cannot exist in the context of the blinding day so all I can do is look far ahead, into the horizon of my world, for in this very still dark night, there lies a sliver of shimmering light. A light which I am still drawn towards.