The Kite Flyer... expresses sentiments from when I went kite flying when I was picking up a new hobby thing, when I was more recently jobless. The photo was taken in Hang Zhou, on a bridge on the West Lake, around evening. Friend and I were on our graduation trip. We sat on a curb to watch the old man fly kite for a long time.
Then we were inspired by him, and his reel that had ball-bearings and was cool. So, we went to buy too.
Below, part II of the oct 06. The connections with the kite flyer are:
1) both written during periods of joblessness
2) about new pastimes
3) one of the kites I was recently flying is one of the kites I found in the description below (in red).
Maybe I should have bought more things on my graduation trip. Or maybe I should go for another one. *shrugs*
Germany’s Gateway to the World
About one or two weeks ago when I thought that I was about to be offered a job, I panicked and thought about the ideal time to start work. That was when I stopped forcing myself to send out application letters to stall the dreaded interviews. I think I did not yet come to terms with the not working and the start working.
You know how after a serious romantic relationship, you cannot immediately plunge into another serious romantic relationship? That is exactly how I feel. Yet another part of me, for fear of joblessness, kept on pushing me to go apply for more jobs. Somehow I was telling me that I should at least find a fling, a temporary job or something part-time. The other parts of me just want to stay home and watch bad tv.
So when I thought about the ideal time to start work, I did not have an answer. My friend told me that I should be expected to take up the job immediately, starting work as soon as possible.
“Really? I can’t say I want to start two weeks later?”
“What do you think? You think you can just say, sorry I need to clean my room first, give me a few weeks, thanks.”
Regardless of whether I had wanted two weeks, or if they would have given me if I was offered the job, I realized that I really want to clean my room.
Besides, I needed a new pastime. At least that’s what a lot of people have been telling me.
“Ju-Lyn, you know what, you should go get a hobby.”
Maybe I say I’m bored too often, though I say I’m bored because I am. But anyway, I thought, so many people can’t be wrong. So I decided to look for a hobby. I can’t swim, so sea sports are out, and dancing doesn’t interest me. I’m jobless so I can’t go for anything expensive, and I don’t feel creative about thinking up what new hobbies I could try out. So, one boring evening, I decided to pack my room. For the people who recall having ventured into my hostel room, you can try to imagine how bad my home room is. I’ve lived in here for 12 years and never had to move out of it. I was such a sentimental you know, pretty much everything that doesn’t rot, I keep. I even kept sweet wrappers. I seemed to like to stuff things out of sight and forget about them.
Anyway for the past few days now, I have been packing my room. It’s strangely therapeutic. I think I am beginning to understand now why some people want to do it every week or so.
When I was packing my room today, I decided to do something drastic. You see, for the 12 years that I’ve moved in, I did not quite ever try to remove the things underneath my bed. You see, when I moved in when I was around 12 years old, I had a lot of things, amongst which, an unframed completely assembled jigsaw puzzle of Hamburg Harbor, Germany. It measures somewhat 50cm by 75 cm. It’s the 1000 pieces kind, but one piece got lost on moving day. For the past 12 years, the 999 pieces of Hamburg Harbor rested underneath my new bed. I always knew it was there. It always knew I was sleeping above it. For the past 12 years.
So, like I said, I had decided to do something drastic, I decided to clear out the space under my bed.
Before I got to the jigsaw puzzles, which was close to the wall, and almost furthest away from me, I fished out:
1 box of book marks,
2 kites,
2 brand new babies’ milk bottles,
1 florescent green golf ball,
1 bag of old textbooks (including my Secondary 1 Science textbook),
1 pair of terracotta figurines with dried moss bits,
2 bricks of white clay,
And many other things.
However, the moment I felt like Steve Zissou was when I pulled out all 999 pieces of Germany’s gateway to the world. I stared at the dust patterns that collected over the years. The dust accumulated dust. I dare not breathe... for fear of the dust mistaking my breathing as a challenge to attack me. I beheld it, like Zissou would his son, Ned Plimpton.
Then I took 1 hour to coax to break up the 999 neatly in 6 stabs and laid them on paper and kept them away in a box.
I proceeded to remove the piece of paper Hamburg was on, and discovered that the moment I felt most like Steve Zissou was when I found a Mickey Mouse almost completed jigsaw puzzle underneath Hamburg. I had completely forgotten about it. Although upon seeing it, I recognized it. It is 700 pieces of Mickey Mouse, forgotten for the past 12 years. I beheld it with awe, and made a strange face, like how you would the crayon pony fish.
Then I took five minutes to break it up hastily and stuffed it into another box. At the end of that, with all the monsters underneath the bed either packed in boxes, or strewn around, or in the trash bag, I mopped as much of the floor that I could with a rag and my brother’s golf club.
Finally, I marvelled at how for the first time in 12 years there is nothing underneath my bed.
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