Unexpectantly
Uploaded by xhodrebel on Aug 31, 2000
Mark detested himself – for being so brainless at times, for the lack of ideas within his head when there was meant to be enough time to think. Our man reassured himself that he was not totally in blame. Song writing is a passion for him. The enjoyment of the gust and agony within the lyrics of songs by hard-rockers had served as a form of inspiration. He felt empathy, similarity to how the rockers feel about life. Mark’s collection of self-composed songs have hints of vulgarity every now and then, even though the man knew that he will never get his sensitive fellow Singaporeans to hear them.
A talent left undiscovered. Sighing, Mark resolved in attaining some peace. He broke from his mess of thoughts, closing his notebook- his personal “Thoughts from a cynic – with no reference to Confucius’ sayings”. He kept the compact book in his underwear drawer, which is an impossible reach from his nosey younger sister. Mark grabbed his guitar, strummed to some nonsensical tune and sang his personal favourite production. “My Maths teacher, she gave… me detention!” he wined, having nostalgic moments of secondary school life, “I sat on the bench… staring at the girls from basketball….” He went on until his sister shouted ‘shut up’ from the next room. He turned to his clock. Eleven-thirty. “Time to sleep,” he muttered to himself, dropping dead on his bed.
As usual, Mark’s friend, Aaron – a man who strongly believes that punctuality is a virtue, was before time. Aaron was waiting under the sign, which showed directions to the different sectors of the campus of Singapore Polytechnic, resembling a mannequin of what latest fashion was. He prefers keeping up to trend.
“Hey, morning, Aaron!” Mark greeted cheerfully.
“You moron,” Aaron muttered. “You made me wait for fifteen minutes. I looked like an idiot standing under this hot, burning sun.”
The duo strolled their way to the school canteen, receiving several stares and glances from the girls, which passed along the way. Both were not totally pleased with all that attention.
“I feel like we’ve been stalked,” Mark grumbled, adjusting his spectacles, “ I guess that’s the consequences of having some Prom King for a best friend,”
“That was in Secondary school!” Aaron insisted.
“Don’t be modest,” Mark said, reaching out his hand to pull his friend’s green-streaked fringe. “Now I hope those first-year girls are not at the canteen,”
“Oei, don’t pull my...