Down Memory Lane

It is very good to copy what one sees; it is much better to draw what you can't see any more but is in your memory. It is a transformation in which imagination and memory work together. You only reproduce what struck you, that is to say the necessary. ~Edgar Degas

In her journey to the City of Emeralds, Dorothy helped oiling the rusty Tin Woodman. It happened that the Wicked Witch of the East had been the root of his sufferings: the Tin Woodman lost his heart to her enchanted axe. Thus, he accompanied Dorothy to seek help from the mighty Wizard of Oz to get a heart of flesh so that he could love once again.

True. A heart of flesh allows one to be happy and “happiness is the best thing in the world”. But, it was too bad that the Tin Woodman wasn’t aware that it comes with a price. Little did he know that a heart does not only have the capacity to love but it can bring feelings of bitter longing and dejection as well. It is these emotions that give us warmth and at times, drown us in a potent cocktail of emotions. The kind that seizes you unaware when you let down your guard. The kind that is hard to put into words; hard to describe.

Graduation day – is it supposed to be a happy moment now that I’ve finished my school life in Chung Ling? Or is it supposed to take me for a walk down memory lane and have those reminiscence of the good old days fill me with bitterness? Two years ago, it struck me. Now, it has returned and I still find myself assailed haplessly.

Six years ago, I entered Chung Ling as a carefree adolescent. On second thought, not really carefree, for there was a bugging anxiety of whether I’d be able to cope with the new surroundings. Gosh, to begin with, the school was so big that it could be a township by itself. I had a tough time finding my way to the library, the labs, the canteen, the toilets (despite the fact that there is one around every corner)… The first few weeks in school was totally disorienting. Still, I managed to get on well, thank goodness.

Being somewhat antiestablishment, it was ironical that I became a Junior Patrol. But, who cares? It gave me the carte blanche to loiter around under the pretense of “official duty”. More so when we were in Form Two, since we were the eldest in the afternoon session. We could have had the absolute power of the Gestapo, if not for the certain distaste some teachers held towards us Patrols and their occasional interventions.

I’d say that Form Two is the happiest year of all my life in Chung Ling. Thinking of my gang of friends in the bus and all those crazy things we did back then is enough to make me long for those days. I still remember the ridiculous ditty we composed for a particular unpopular boy, which we sang ad nauseam, till one day, we drove the bus driver so mad that he stopped by the roadside just to get us to shut up. So, well, we made one for him, too! Then, of course, there was the water-splashing “culture”. We had to carry along an umbrella, rain or shine, because you could always expect someone to splash water at you as soon as you stepped off the bus. That was when the umbrella became handy.

Form Three was in the morning session; the dreaded ringing of the alarm clock was the first thing that roused me from my sweet slumber before dawn. Everyday was a school-homework-study-tuition routine. Nevertheless, this and the two years that followed left me with sweet reminiscences, because that was when I met a number of fabulous friends.

Then came the Form Five graduation, which I did not foresee would bring so much pain later on. Perhaps, I wasn’t really aware that that was when many of us would part with each other.

They say “good friends are like stars… you don’t always see them, but you know they are always there”. Alas, some just reel out of sight. You try to keep in touch with them but they just seem to vanish into thin air without news. Some just changed so much that you find it hard to communicate with each other. He could be your alter ego the last time you met but after a short separation, you find those stark differences between the both of you and wondered how you got together in the beginning.

It was optimistic of me to presume that I’d find true friends in Form Six. Friends, there were a lot. But intimate ones, I don’t think so, for it is hard to find someone truthful and willing enough to confide your feelings and share your aspirations. Then, there are higher expectations and heftier responsibilities to shoulder as you bid goodbye to adolescence. Gosh, it does feel lonely sometimes.

A few weeks before graduation day, I didn’t feel like going to school at all, except for showing up occassionally to let the form teacher know I was still around. But now that graduation day is over and we’re unofficially free to be absent from school, life suddenly becomes so empty. I miss the lengthy chat with my classmates. When will we have the chance just to even see each other? Even the prospect that we’d be sitting for STPM together real soon is not comforting enough. And it gets lonelier, thus.

Still, my final consolation is that this might be my moment of emancipation from the bondage of a particular depressing memory. Out of sight, out of mind? I wonder if that is possible.

Nevertheless, here’s a toast to everyone. Thank you to everyone who has been part of my life. But, for goodness sake, don’t leave me with memories, for even the fondest and sweetest of all will soon become tinged with bitterness, typical of all nostalgias.