I’ve been looking for some new things to write about recently. I mentioned that I wanted to try something new – although I can’t write romance. Aside from the lack of interest, it is something I cannot genuinely relate to. I have very little interest to the dalliance of men and women doing this “Will they, or won’t they” dance. I’m that unromantic chick going, ‘For fuck’s sake, just TELL HIM ALREADY AND STOP WASTING MY TIME!’
My sister, The Psychologist reckons that my lack of interest in romance stems from my relatively tame love life (yes, I have to confess – and despite me approaching the big 3-0, I still find it kinda embarrassing that I married my first boyfriend).
As they say though, you should only write what you know, and the sister suggested that if anything our family knows very well, it would be our family drama. Which is of the failwhale kind.
And for those of you who seem to have a life outside the internet, and is not familiar with the failwhale – let me refer you to this wonderful picture.
Failing – in epic proportions.
The Amiruddin family isn’t quite complete without some sort of failing in epic proportions. For instance, only the Amiruddin family would end up in the most dangerous mall in Atlanta (two shootings in the last month alone) in our efforts to find a cinema in the US.
And when I was with Eizwan’s family in Hong Kong for the holidays, I thought it was rather odd that nothing, like absolutely nothing went wrong during out holidays. Since I’m good pals with fate, and fate tends to respond in kind when I tempt it, of course on the final day, I chipped my crown (sobs!), the fire alarm goes off in the apartment we were staying in AND we had to trek down 17 floors, yes, count’em, 17 floors only to find that the slightly deaf caretaker downstairs had locked the fire escape, leaving about all the tourists to burn to a crisp in the fire escape (the other smart Hong Kong-ers opted to burn to a crisp in their home instead, escaping the bitter cold winds of Hong Kong in December). It turned out to be a false alarm, of course and we all clambered back up around midnight, only to be serenaded by the fire alarm, off and on, every other hour or so. I think the fire alarm wanted us to be reminded of its presence or say goodbye since we had an early flight and we only needed to have as much sleep as we could get.
But imagine what happens when almost the entire family comes together. There were only the four of us when we drove up to Ipoh for a talk on editing on Friday. My father missed the one and only Ipoh exit and the car was running on empty. We had to stop the car by a lookout point whilst the Plus Highway people came to rescue us. We filled up at the nearest exit, did a long ass U-turn (only 30kms long, folks) and to get caught up in the longest jam ever, since some inconsiderate bugger allowed his car to catch fire in the tunnel. Tsk tsk. Some people.
We finally get to the talk which was alright. It was too short to be any good, too wide and shallow to appeal to me when I was hoping for something a lot deeper.
So there you go. Failwhaling is something I’m quite familiar with. It might not be much of a plot but at least it makes good comedy.
Sometimes people ask me if ever get tired or unhappy when things can go spectacularly wrong, the way they do whenever we get together. I rarely feel blue about things that go spectacularly wrong – really, the best thing you can do is just laugh about it (I got food poisoning on my wedding day, beat that) and just shrug it off. I don’t get stressed over the small matters, not when you are in a mall where shootings occur regularly.
And I do know, when times get a little tough, the tough gets going and good things will happen. Eventually. Hopefully.