runaway princess…

My kindergarten 3/1 class was amazingly quiet except for the chatterbox up front -

Kan.

  While all her friends were attentively drawing as I assigned them to, one of my could-be-enemies-if-I-was-still-growing-up was yapping louder than a sound system, distracting her nearby friends.

I stopped and stared at her paper thinking of how on earth I should shut her up. Candies never worked on these children.  Slamming the huge wooden ruler worked only for few seconds. Being angry meant creating unwanted wrinkle on my 23 year old face and certainly a waste of breath.  Shushing them as I have done to Western children has been a gesture well ignored amongst Thai children. 

The little 5 year old giggled obnoxiously sticking her tongue out to me.  Indeed, she’s one of my intelligent ones, but if it’s one thing I hate about Thai students is that they allow their astuteness to be accompanied by plain arrogance.

“Your picture is ugly.”  I told her flatly, breaking a very important rule in teaching Thai children – no criticism allowed at any time or place, yet I discovered that very rule to be THE method in stopping Thai children from doing anything – talking included.  The kids around her gasped then giggled softly. 

Kan

stopped her gibbering and stared at me with wide eyes.

Good girl.

“Is mine beautiful?” A girl next to

Kan

asked me.

“Yes it is.”  I let out my fake million dollar smile.

“What about mine?”  A boy showed me his unattractive drawing.

“It’s lovely.”  I said acting out the number one rule in teaching Thai children – always compliment no matter what.

Kan

curled her eyebrows kicking her desk mercilessly.  She threw her color pencil, which hit the white board.  Her friends laughed harder. The little girl then grabbed a few utensils and began slamming it on her desk.

You should be caged in a zoo next to the lions.

“Finish your drawing.”  I said to her without a smile.

“No!”  She shouted.

“Why not?”  I kept my voice stable.

“You said my drawing is not beautiful.”

“Well, it’s not. How can you draw beautifully when you talk more than looking at your paper?”  I said flatly. 

“I won’t draw anymore!”  The little girl threw a ruler across the room and hit her classmate - Bo.  My annoyance was at the tip of my tongue allowing my patience to disappear.

“You idiot! You hit my glasses!”  Bo screamed walking to her desk and slammed the ruler on her chest.  He showed no mercy by slapping her on the head.  The class roared in laughter. I couldn’t help but to join.

Good boy.

“Sit down, Bo.” I winked watching the boy return to his seat with his chin up.

“You won’t finish your drawing because I said it’s ugly?”  I asked

Kan.

“Yes! I won’t do it.”  The little girl said haughtily.

“Well, it is ugly.”  I said leaving her to attend to others. 

Kan

began mumbling softly on her own, still with an angry face. 

“I don’t like you.”  She said giving me that I-wish-your-class-is-over look.

“I don’t like you either.”  I recited with a cold face, having a ball watching her little 5-year-old bratty ass turn for that ultimate displeasure toward me.

What terrible sin have I committed to have to put up with a little 5 year old like you for the past 7 months?!

“You are so mean!”  The little girl stood on top of her chair crossing her arm.

Oh, forget the zoo. Zoos are for tamed mammals.

“I can draw better than you though.”  With that,

Kan

sat back down and sulked on her own for the remaining 30 minutes of class.

So mocking them to the core shuts them up. Oh, peace at last.

———-

“Not a bad idea to try.”  Paul, my colleague stated.

“You’re an awful bitch!”  James stated laughing giving me a pat on the shoulder.

“And what else?”  I asked.

Roll out the red carpet and allow me to walk alongside honesty for a change.  The Princess wants to breathe fresh air for a while.

I ran to the mirror, braided my hair quickly before bowing down to the “white throne”. There in less than two seconds, I puked my soul out.  It was my body’s way of telling me that it’s time for a break, a rather long one for everything else but the body. It has been tense for the past year.

I flushed. I wiped the tears from my eyes before flushing again. I grabbed the lavender rose air freshener and sprayed my bathroom until I felt the urge to puke once more. So I did.  Afterwards, I decided to see what’s left of me in the mirror and frankly it wasn’t much. My eyes were bit swollen with mascara sponged all over the place accompanied by the usual eye bags.  My hair tangled, cheeks red and lips chapped from the dry weather lately.

You’re an exquisite beauty, Princess; I scoffed at my reflection before crawling underneath the covers.  Oh, at that moment I so wanted to feel like a Princess again being in the company of those haughty over rated royalties I’ve always managed to ridicule both in silence and directly.  I remember the many moments where Pappa and I stood as royals in a courtyard full of them, disbelieving every word they said and mocking every constitution they embraced.

“I am born in the wrong family,” I whispered to him during one of our little gatherings.

“Pretend you’re in a movie of some sort then,” Pappa tried to console the both of us.

“So how come the director isn’t saying “Cut!”

“How about an 80 season TV series?”  He joked.

Oh, that was then when I had the royals up to my neck.  Yet hugging my pillow all alone in that pathetic room in the middle of a small town in

Thailand

, I was hungry for my comfort. As shameful or cowardly as it may sound, I confessed to my mother over the phone that the only thing I need at that moment was a maid.  I wanted her to get me all my favorite food, have her spoon-feed a few bites to me.  As a mother she understood, though giggled endlessly.

“You can’t avoid your father’s blood no matter where you want to run to in this world!”  She stated laughing.  For the past 23 years, I have been utterly offended over that particular comment of hers. Placing myself amongst people I never believed in was never an ambition of mine. On the contrary, since the day I was informed of the burden running through my veins, for the past 10 years I have been on the run.

Yet clutching to my blanket and head screaming out in agony, I gave in and allowed myself to be enslaved by cravings for gratuitous pampering that were once enemies.

“Your husband’s blood and yours.”  I pointed out. “You expected me to be absolutely commoner-minded?”

“No, we need a miracle for that.”  She smiled.  I silenced.  “Be a royal because of what you do, not because of heritage.”  My mother continued.

“Not everybody can be like you.”  I stated half regretting that I made such phone call.

“My flesh and blood can.”  She ordered politely.

“You are pursuing a morality discussion with the mentally ill. Consider it inadequate, Mamma.”  I stated boldly only to hear her crisp laughter.

She informed me that ever since she moved to a quieter neighborhood, they hired a new maid who stayed with them at the house. How superb, I thought. I so wanted to meet and greet that woman before telling her to make my favorite breakfast and serve it to me.  I made my mother promise that she’ll call up my personal missus and have her oil massage me, just the way I always liked it.  Oh, I miss her hands, firm and amazingly healing, unlike those rip off Thai massages that have only thinned my wallet yet upset more of my muscles.

I want to spend a day bicycling along the coastline of North Bali and cursing out every man who decides to annoy me simply because it’s my goddamn territory.  I want to walk topless at Sanur Beach simply because I can do anything I want and get away with it.  I want to shut and lock the door to one of Gramp’s bungalows until the next morning so one of his staff can bring me my toast and hot ginger tea.

I thought about the sea breeze, the early boat ride at dawn and dolphin spotting, the 5-hour nude tanning under that scorching sun, the relaxing walk around Kuta area with only my beach apparel on.  I want to isolate myself at Gramp’s house in the hills, dip my naked body in his little hot spring in the backyard, and eat Gram’s nicest food before dozing off under the mango tree listening to his birds and that beautiful white feathered yet obnoxiously deafening parakeet. (Oh, what’s his face….?)

I want to climb and pick the ripest papaya for Grams so she can whip up some of her famous papaya salad I love most. I miss those ripe green and pink guavas and striking red pomegranates near their little temple.

I thought of how good it feels to walk around any street with people talking to me because they want to, because they feel the urge to greet me, because it’s all for the sake of being friendly.  Not having any man thinking I am a Thai eligible for a one, oh perhaps two night stands, just because again…it’s my goddamn territory. Oh, it’s been horrendous here in Thailand.  I have been stuck in such an unhealthy charade where a woman is worth about $50 a night.

I gathered my thoughts and threw it out the window before reaching out for a few Neurofen and a bottle of water.

———-

The clock said 03.17 AM and I realized I dozed off for 7 hours.  I bowed down to my ‘white throne’ once more, spilled what’s left of dinner, and flushed. 

I groaned for a bit and realized that Princess wants to breathe fresh air for more than a while. She wants to be noticed and acknowledged. She wants to roam free for a change instead of stuffed at the darkest corner of the closet. She wants to scream to the world that she’s very much alive and she can’t stand being all alone trying relentlessly to be everything that she is not.

Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure
That burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets

Um ba ba bay
Um ba ba bay
Dee day duh
Ee day duh

It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming get me out!
Tomorrow takes me higher
Pressure on people
People on streets

Day day day
da da dup bup bup
Okay

Chippin’ around
kick my brains round the floor
These are the days
It never rains but it pours
Ee do bay bup
Ee do bay ba bup
Ee do bup
Bay bup
People on streets
Dee da dee da day
People on streets
Dee da dee da dee da dee da

It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming let me out!
Tomorrow takes me high high higher

Turned away from it all
Like the blind man
Sat on a fence but it don’t work
Keep coming up with love
But it’s so slashed and torn
Why why why?

(Love, love, love, love)

Insanity laughs under pressure we’re cracking
Can’t we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can’t we give love that one more chance?
Why can’t we give love give love give love?
Give love give love give love give love give love give love?
Cause love’s such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care
For the people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way
Of caring about ourselves
This is our last dance

This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under Pressure
Under Pressure
Pressure