A post. The sort that goes very long.


And it’s because I have a lot of things to write about, so I guess a little forewarning will be extremely helpful.


It’s also because this will be the last time I’ll be writing (typing) on this laptop; I predict that this will be the last of my using it, and whatever else that’s down the road, will come as it comes.


I guess this is the best adieu I can give it, doing what I do best, on this faithful compatriot.


Let’s hope he does well to serve his new master.


*****

I’ve noted with great disdain that my writing has taken a dip down the cesspool, so bear with me for quite a bit; as far as my consistency goes, this is the plummet in the pulsing chart that goes all the way down and down, and whatever chance to see it climb up again into the sunlight will depend on how much improvement my brain will take during what I hope to be a revitalising plan, come the next few weeks.


Well, there’s a lot to tell. To brag and to bawl, so to speak. Let’s get started, shall we?

*****

My brother is leaving for the U.K. The big United Kingdom.


He’s there to further his studies and will be back a year later, with the complete and full acknowledgement into the world of law and the practising of it (dear God doom is upon us). I’ll miss him, I guess. I really might. After I celebrate, of course. I’ve planned a quiet, personal champagne-popping event at 4 in the morning, and later in the morning I’ll go ignite the leftover fireworks.


The house will be quieter now.


He flies tomorrow night. Thursday morning, to be exact. Taking with him his luggage and this laptop here, which I tendered up for him to take over rather than get a new one. I’ve gotten Bod (Black of Death, the new PC) to fill the role of house computer, so it’s fine. And this baby here comes with a webcam and full wireless online access, so it’s everything he’ll ever need over there, food and clothing aside.


The anvil took longer to drop, but drop it did, probably way later compared to everyone else. Him leaving will be a huge change. It’ll be his longest time away from home, and I daresay mom is already at the tipping point of her anxiety; she fusses endlessly, and for the next few weeks I expect to see her walking around with a shade of worry under her eyes. She’ll be proud, but she’ll be very worried. I wonder if my brother knows that.


With him gone I’ll be around to take the full fodder of whatever the house throws at me. It means that everything, and I mean everything, is under my full care. The dogs, the rabbits, the fishes, the car, dad… I’m up against it frontally, no armours, no covers, just guts and glory and tubs of lards. Ooo-rah!


Hmm well. The moss adepts to the cold, so they say.


I wonder if my father is anxious? I wonder if he worries, let his thoughts wander in the middle of the night, traversing the small cracks of possibilities and concerns.


He’s very cool about it.


*******

My brother leaving has been a huge cause for celebrations.

So far, we’ve had three BBQ parties, two to his name and one to our aunt who takes it as another chance to celebrate with him. Everyone went up to him, bid him bon voyage, shook his hand and patted his back, questioned his plans to bring home a ‘blue-eyed blonde’ (on my grandfather’s loud prompting), handed him gifts and ang pows and advices, asked him the questions he answered to millions of times. It’s not surprising; he’s the eldest grandson on both side of the family, and he’s the first to ‘soak in the sea’s salt-water’, as the Chinese say. He’s the first to step across the pedestal, up onto that threshold that leads far far away.


There’re times people had asked me if I felt unfair that my brother is given the chance to study overseas. They asked if I’m jealous. I told them there’s no forsaken way I’d travel halfway across the world to study, not unless the study involves art and is free and takes the course of a three-week European tour. I told them the only thing I’ll be jealous about is that he gets to see Trafalgar Square before me, and he won’t take a single goddamn picture of it.


And it’s true. I don’t want to go away unless I go away to write, or backpack into the unknown with a notebook and a camera. I’ll go for an adventure. I’ll stay here if I want to study.


*******


I gave my brother a Moleskine


It’s not that I’ve given in to its marketing gimmick that went on to say that it’s used, a long time ago, by the likes of Picasso and Hemingway and Matisse. I got it because I see giving it equals the same as giving someone a silver-embossed Parker pen; it’s the symbol of growth and the ascension into the mature world. Sounds gay, inevitably, but it’s the best thing I can get for him, since pens were no longer an option (my 5th aunt beat me to it).


And the notebook’s really nice. Gives you a vibe of class and inspiration; boy, I’ll get myself one if I can help it.


Unfortunately, I won’t. But I’ll get those imitators that go for half the price.


*******


Well, I’d be lying if I said that life didn’t just revolve around my brother and the hullabaloo of flying over, but there’re snippets that still went on, quietly, at the sidelines, poking over imploringly.


The exams are near, and it’s sort of near enough to feel it burning the hairs on my arms. I’m grossly unprepared. I have time; I always have time, bearing the mark of a true procrastinator (class S = Sloth, 2nd Honours). Just not enough, I suppose, now that it’s immensely close and I haven’t done anything.


What sucks is that I promised -- swore, that I’ll ace it, months and months back, in a fit of burning inspiration. I see that inspiration taking the next plane to Cuba.


Holy crapshot doesn’t regret and anxiety burn? Ss-ah!


I realised, in a lurch of panic, that the work I’ve sent to my ex-boss might not actually have been sent, and that the true copy of it is accidentally deleted while I was transferring my documents over to the PC. I feel that I’ll be getting an SMS or an E-mail a few weeks later asking what the heck happened and if I’ve just abandoned some unfinished work. I’ll be waiting for it.


My brother had picked up Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox at Borders last week. I read it up in a day, barely leaving the room. It’s a pleasant book, nothing short of Eoin Colfer’s ingenuity, but nothing more as well. That’s the unfortunate bit about it; after what I feel was the excellent Lost Colony, Time Paradox fell short and disappointing in scope. It still makes for an enjoyable Artemis Fowl romp, though.


We won’t see another Arty Fowl for 3 years or so, so I guess there’s nothing else to wait for but Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, coming in 4 weeks time.


I was surprised when I heard of it, but I found out that Elizabeth Bear’s excellent short-story, Tideline, actually won the Hugo Awards for Best Short Story.


You can read the story here: http://www.elizabethbear.com/tideline.html


I found her novel in Kinokuniya the other day, which is a rarity. Her books aren’t very popular here, and if it wasn’t placed (rather oddly) together with Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, I wouldn’t have noticed it. The novel is going for 25 bucks; I’ve got a Kino coupon for 10. That makes 15 bucks for it.


Excellent.


*********

I guess this concludes it. I expect tomorrow evening to be the last time I shut this laptop down, pack it into the bag and give it the usual dust down the top cover.


Thursday night I’ll be typing on Bod, on a keyboard which I’ll have to get used to.


I’ll be bidding farewell to the brother.


Here’s where I put up my wishes and prayers for him, and mine would go: Don’t shag the ang mohs.


I guess I really will miss him.


And to you, reader, if you’ve actually endured to this point of the post:


Goodnight.