Saturday, October 15, 2005

“Men always trick women like this. Pretend to be alone while actually he’s not. You’re good at this.”

I’ve been having pretty good luck with Korean series. Firstly the absolute: ‘Lovers in Paris’. Now ‘My Name is Kim Sam Soon’. It’s basically a Korean Bridget Jones Diary :) and we all know how much FAT girls, such as I, are big suckers for FAT-girl-finds-love-at-long-last-with-man-who-loves-her-just-the-way-she-is movies / TV shows. Except Sam Soon gets to do something she enjoys doing of which she’s blimin’ good at. Frankly, I don’t know what is it that I truly love that I could be really good at. Something that could spur my confidence and mostly something that could make myself proud. I might have been a good pastry chef too for all you know. It will always be something I will never find out in this lifetime at least. There is no time to lose for matters of no consequences such as this. It is one of the reasons I loathe growing up. Perhaps it is in little moods like this that my ancient thoughts of Sunshine P would creep out of the memory deposit boxes.

(shitty reenactment of a conversation that took place approximately 5 years ago)
Sunshine P: Can I have it?
Moi: What for?
Sunshine P: So that I can have pretty Malaysian girls on my wall.
Moi: Right.
Sunshine P: Can I have this as well?
Moi: Which one?
Sunshine P: This.
Moi: What?! That’s just me prancing around in my new pants!! Why do you want it? It’s horrible, look at the mess around me… the open suitcases, the rustled papers everywhere, and shoes lying around. It’s embarrassing.
Sunshine P: I like it.
Moi: Well, OK.
Sunshine P: Actually I came here to give you my contacts and to ask for yours. [yes, he speaks like that]
Moi: Oh.
Sunshine P: Promise me you will write me.
Moi: I promise. [which I did very religiously till… well, till I knew better]
Sunshine P: Why don’t you stay?
He rolls up a cigarette, lights it and takes a few puffs before proceeding to the window. He knows my housemates and I (then) have zero tolerance for smoking.
Moi: I can’t.
Sunshine P: Go to France.
Moi: *laughs awhile* Right. Go to France and do what?
Sunshine P: Study French? [he really was serious. I thought he had too much nicotine]
Moi: *laughs again* And why would I want to do that?
Sunshine P: You said you liked to broaden your horizons. Go to France, study French and broaden your horizons.
Moi: It’s not that easy.
Sunshine P: Why isn’t it?
Moi: Malaysians do not go to France to study French.
Sunshine P: Why not?
Moi: We just don’t. I have to go home and that’s that. But thank you for the suggestion. Nobody has ever proposed such a plan to me before. I’m flattered that you think I should.
Sunshine P: I have to go do my work now. I’ll see you tonight maybe?

Sometimes when I feel low or worthless, I’d dig out that Sunshine P box (which in usual conditions keep very harshly bolted) and replay this excerpt in my mind. Then I would smile. I’d smile because his thoughts were simple, dreamy, genuine and pure. Maybe all French country boys are like that. Or maybe it’s because he came from such a lovely place called the Coast of Pink Granite… uhh… Cote de Granit Rose… aiya something like that. My memories of things him are now very hazy-lah, which is good. Nonetheless I’d shut my eyes and there I’d be cycling to French class in a cute pink Paul Frank bicycle with a basket in front decorated with white daisies. Inside my basket is a blue The Little Prince schoolbag with a baguette sticking out of the side of its front pocket wit my Evian water bottle (corny huh?) splashing about as I run over bumpy cobbled streets. It is the beginning of summer and I’m wearing a breezy white cotton dress and a woolen shrug with jeans. My lowly-tied hair is in slight curls. I’m wearing straw flip-flops and a Cheshire cat grin because I’m so happy that I’m doing something that makes me happy. In the mornings I have French class, in the afternoon I work in a small bakery run by a cute family from Provence and at night I study fashion near the Notre Dame. I get the weekends off so I use that time to explore Paris off the beaten track. I note down every café and independent boutiques I’ve visited and make a list of my favourites. Twice every month I’d take that little boat rides down the Seine and drink wine on a park bench that sits opposite the Statue of Liberty. OK I’m quite happy now. Mission accomplished. Quickly lock memory box up.

I will now take a shower. Make myself some tea. Watch more Kim Sam Soon.

P.S: Reasons-Why-Single-Women-Exist by waitresses of Bon Appetit (My Name is Kim Sam Soon)
First, good guys aren’t handsome
Second, handsome guys are bad
Third, good guys who are good looking are all married
Fourth, good and handsome bachelors are not high-caliber
Fifth, good and rich and handsome bachelors look down upon us
Sixth, good and handsome and rich bachelors who are interested in us are all playboys
Seventh, handsome, good and rich bachelors who’re interested in us and are not playboys… they’re gays!!

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...