Classroom Doodles

I’m a horrible student. That goes without saying.

In class I only do three things… mostly, do three things, and that is to draw (on the tables, or on any scrap of paper with blank spaces), to daydream (also applies to staring at people and wondering if their hairs will curl and start strangling the people next to them) and lastly to write, or doodle, in a notebook.

(I also have the tendency to sleep through classes, and while most embarrassing, also most justifiable since I only do it when I’m dead sleepy).

Sometimes I write mini-stories, something that would fit in one page (there’re also micro-stories, and they’re roughly 50 words long or so); this is a practice that was introduced to me back during Creative Writing classes (my lecturer and tutor, miss Annie Tan, had made it delightfully interesting. She dropped by sometime ago and commented on Walrus story, and I can’t thank her enough for her teachings).

The first exercise we had in class was to write a 1-minute long short story to be read in class; the story should only last one minute when read. I wrote something about a man and a cockroach; I had hoped to type it down sometime, or make it longer, but every time I sat down for it, it slips away and parks at a corner. I had given up since, but the written copy is still with me, though I had lost the crumpled-up version a long time ago.

Still, I occasionally find the urge to write something down that’s only one page long, and that is normally a challenge for me, since I’m as long winded as old highways used to be. They never normally make sense, and some of them I mix up and throw into other stories. But they’re very fun to write, especially when class gets boring.

Here’s two most recent ones, and I put it here before I lost my notebook, which is bound to happen. Someday they might be part of something longer, but while they’re here, I better let them out and play.

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What’s lost, cannot be retrieved (17 July 2008, Culture and Communications Lecture)

Look. Look over there. Do you see him?

The boy. In the shadows. Do you see him? Right there, at that corner. Just shy from the streetlight.

Can you go say hello for me?

He can’t come out. I can’t go in. he can’t listen to me, or he won’t, or maybe, maybe, he’s listening and answering but I can’t hear. I can’t. I can’t can’t can’t.

Go say hello to him? He’s a lonely boy, good boy, but lonely. And no friends, not from the darkness; only danger. Bullies, enemies, and I can’t go in. I can’t be there where he needs me. He needs a friend, needs a family. Or just someone.

My fault… all my fault. I dropped him. Let go of my hand, dropped him, and down and down he goes between the cracks. I didn’t mean to… hadn’t wanted… stupid… stupid…

And where’s he now, I can’t go. The cracks are too small. I’m too big. And he’s grown now, else he could come out, come here. I’ll wait, I think. I’ll wait till the end of the world I’ll wait, I’ll wait. Then I’ll take him home. To mommy.

Go say hello to him? Go say hello?


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In the Palm of my Hand (21st July 2008, Creative Strategy for Advertising lecture)


That day, the salesman walked up to me and said, “Hi sir. I sell you something good. I sell you a World. 79.95.”

So I asked him, what do you mean by a World? I had taken it for a globe.

“A World. Very cheap. I show you.”

He extracted a round circular thing that floated on his palm, rotating silently.

“Nice world. I sell you. 79.95.”

I walked away. Somehow, he chased me.

“Ok. Ok, sir. I give you cheaper. 59.95. Very cheap.”

I said to him, I don’t know what you’re selling. I don’t know what to do with it.
Then he said; “Buy a World. You be God. You make it happen. Only 59.95. Very cheap.”

So I paid him. He snatched the money, smiled, looked immensely relieved, and gave me a box labelled Lux Ata-lus.

“Nurtured best under lots of light.” And then he went away.

I got home and took out the World. It looked quite a lot like Earth, but I noticed 11 continents, and the south pole is relatively large.

I turned on the table lamp and put it under it. I guess I’ll leave It there until the bulb burns out.

Sunday I’ll water it.