Mille-feuille

I have a terrible weakness to keep track with the things I need to do. One moment, I have the thought that I need to do something. The next five minutes, something else will come along and steal that thought away.

I was driving to work today. And suddenly, my mind brought me back to a precious piece of memory of my very young days with my mother. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, never had much education, got married and devoted the rest of her 20 – 30s to raising three kids.

That memory, ever so precious was those long afternoons with her. We would play hide and seek in the house and I would tag along with her wherever she goes out in my dad’s old Toyota. That piece of memory also has a colour. It’s in sepia. It’s almost lost if not for the time-wasting, gut-wrenching traffic that I have to endure each time I drive to work.

Then, I also sometimes think about my youngest brother, who is now 20 years old. Sometimes, my memories of him as a child is so vivid that even today, my dreams can involuntarily bring me back to the days of him in the 5 year old whiny, spoilt brat.

These memories come in blocks. It is like a photograph of a particular time and place and then, it flips to the next. Again, it’s always uncontrollable. The next fragment could be ten years forward and my younger brother will be in his teens, getting into trouble and I am accompanying my mother to his school for a meeting with the discipline teacher.

As I write this piece, another significant fragment is of my university days. A piece of it is the first day of university where I have fallen sick because my body was rejecting the big change during that phase of life. I lie on the bed, alone in an old dorm in a hot sweltering afternoon. The old bed, soiled by many previous occupants, youths like me, who came to university to pursue an education, wishing for a better life ahead. I wonder how many of them have the better lives they wanted? Fast forward three years later, as I was driving out of Penang with everything I have at the back of the car, thinking (1) What just happened during the last three years? (2) Why aren’t any popping up to remind me one little bit of those days?

The mind is such an amazing invention. Each memory is weaved beneath layer and layer. Mille-feuille. That’s how the French would say A thousand leaves. And they pop out just when you least expect it.

Tonight, I am struggling to complete my first module and this month, I am also struggling to make ends meet. I tried to score a few hours of sleep before I work on my assignment but my mind were filled with horrid images of myself, mutilating myself. So, instead of slumber, I turn to writing.

For close to one year now, I am still unable to settle into a regime. Everyday is a mess as I cope to finish one task from the never-ending to-do list. The situation I am in now is even reflected each time I have to pack. I always bring more than intended. My shoulders are always heavy and my hands are always full. And it doesn’t help when random messy thoughts are popping out all the time.

I will need divine intervention to help me out – at least for my first module.