When 'Us' Is Just Too Much

My room is on the top floor of this yellow building that we Malaysian students lovingly refer to as Sakan Kuning (The Yellow Hostel). My study desk stood between my bed that is pushed against one side of the wall and my roommate’s study desk;; facing the window that I love and hate at the same time since this is where the wind comes in but there’s another building that’s directly in front of mine so I have to be verrryyyy careful at night when I turn on the lights.

For me there is an invisible line drawn to divide the room into two sections;; one section belongs to me and the other belongs to my Kelantanese roommate. Let’s just call her Ami.

Last time I slept here (which was around two days ago. Don’t ask me why I’m not always sleeping here;; it involves the insanity and ambiguity that we all call feelings);; I actually ironed my pillow cloth so that it isn't all wrinkly before I walk out of the door. That also applies to my bed sheets. I’m hardly a perfectionist and I’m far from being a clean freak. But I made efforts to sweep the section of purple carpet that belongs to me;; and smooth-en my bed when it’s bed time.

I didn't ever slept on Ami’s bed;; that’s an atrocity that I’m ashamed of doing.

I love the term ‘my’.

My bed.

My gingerbread head pillow.

My pillow case.

My study desk.

My slippers.

My section of the room.

My space.

My privacy.

My rights.

These are all the things that I deemed I have the right to call ‘mine’. Not ‘ours’. And definitely not ‘yours’.

When it comes to ownership rights if you want to borrow or use or sometimes even look at it;; you’ll have to offer something. For example;; money;; assets;; or I don’t care;; anything. Even an apology for having the audacity to borrow a thing of someone else’s would suffice. Why? This is a stupid question because I presume everyone knows the answer.

Because it’s not freaking yours to do as you freaking please you dumbrain. I’m eighteen and I am trying very hard to act mature and not curse everything and everyone that annoys me;; but I think I’m making little progress it seems.

That’s because Ami just lovesssss to test my patience. I have heard somewhere from the grapevine that Kelantanese people practice cronyism faithfully. 

What is cronyism? Basically it’s the spirit of togetherness. 

Simply put;; this sentence explained everything PERFECTLY:: “What's mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.

Why am I so pissed at Ami and why did I accuse her as being almost religiously faithful to the concept of cronyism?

Why??

ONE

I have wrote before about the water condition in Jordan. Because of its lack of water source;; we have to use chlorinated water. It’s like going for a swim in the swimming pool every day.

….

Okay I’m over-exaggerating I so did not bath every day. Even when I want to;; I wouldn't because whenever I want to do it a feeling would creep from the depths of my stomach and crawl up the back of my spine and stay in my throat;; sticking around until I gave up the idea of taking a shower every day.

Yep;; you guessed it. It’s guilt.

Living here for a month now had taught me to value water as if there would be only one glass worth a day. Because it CAN disappear the next day.

And when it does;; it would take days for it to reappear. I don’t know what’s the problem about our water tanks;; but I am definitely not lying about it taking days to arrive into our personal little water tank in the bathroom.

I mean;; come on;; this is the dessert! She barely have any rivers;; and the only beach Jordan have is Aqabah;; and sea water can’t be used for domestic use because of its high salt content. I’ve been there;; and it’s freaking hot. My senior said it’s even hot in the winter. Imagine! We Malaysians;; whenever someone use the term ‘winter’;; we pictured postcard perfect cabin houses buried knee deep in snow as white as Snow White’s skin.

So I’m not here to debate about the whiteness of Snow White’s skin or whether or not she was being immoral because she lived with seven men;; yes;; dwarves ;; but men nonetheless;; but to ramble about the water situation here in Jordan.

Some days when I wake up there will be water coming out from the pipes. Some days there’s not even a drop. That’s why most of us will accumulate water and keep them in bottles or basins (Hell;; my English vocabulary is going to HELLLLLLLL).

Now the day before yesterday I slept at Sakan Yarmouk;; because my friends live there. Before I went out I made sure to put the basin under the tap and make sure it was full before I got my key from my pocket and locked the door to my room.

I am very particular about locks and keys;; I don’t know why.

Anyway when I came back the next day I was beyond pissed when I opened the bathroom door to see that the basin is freaking EMPTY. WHO had used up all the water? I KNOW that Ami had a lot of friends;; and she is the type that is over-generous. Even when it comes to the things that she have to share with another person.

The thing that made me go berserk and started screaming in the solitude of my room is when I turned the tap and found out that – TADAAAAAAA – no water.

It was pure LUCK that Ami was not at home.

She would definitely suffer from verbal abuse if she was there at the time.

Imagine;; (okay I am definitely not proud to disclose about this classified information) I was sweaty and smelly from walking and had not showered for THREE DAYS;; I came home expecting gushing water and being able to enjoy the sensation of soap on my skin and wearing new clothes smelling like apples and bananas and papayas and every known sweet smelling thing in the history of  mankind;; only to stare at the tap willing it to vomit water and wishing desperately that I have the power to change everything of mine;; my bag;; my books;; my skin lotion;; my cotton buds;; my bed;; my pillows;; EVERYTHING;; into water.

I wish my tears can fill up that basin…

TWO

As I said;; before I went out the day before yesterday I ironed my bed sheets and pillow cloth because I don’t know why I suddenly care about the wrinkles they are wearing.

The point is;; for once in my life;; I was willing to follow the hygiene standards of normal people and ignore my own standards. I was being oddly docile.

I made sure the pillows were placed carefully at the head of my bed;; my bed sheet was smoothed out and my blanket was folded in the proper way so that it would drape all the way to the other side and look hotel-ly.

But guess what had happened when I arrived home the next day?

My gingerbread man pillow was on the purple carpeted floor;; looking as if it was thrown from the bed when someone laid on it;; or someone used it as she lied on the carpet and had got up and left it there to go somewhere else. My pillow’s clothe was half on;; and half off. My bed sheet was all wrinkly and loose.

And my temper was skyrocketing by the record time of a few seconds.

Who wouldn't get pissed off??

I didn't remember ever saying that my bed is off-limits;; but have some respect!

Ami’s friends live next door;; and some days I know for a fact that they slept in my room. Because as I said;; I am not always home so Ami gets lonely (at least I think that’s the case). When they do;; some of them will sleep on my bed because both of our beds are single beds that are narrow and only can fit in two teenage girls lying side by side. Even then it’s cramped.

I didn't put up a sign that said “NO LYING ON MY BED.”

I didn't set up traps or bombs around the perimeter of my bed.

I definitely did not put bars around it that can only be opened by entering a super complicated password that involves the mathematical formula that proves that we are not alone in this world and yes;; aliens do exist.

My bed cannot be labeled as public territory;; but I welcome anyone that wants to use it.

As long as I know who uses it.

As long as she folds my blanket and doesn't carelessly hang it on my chair.

As long as my gingerbread man’s round head pillow stays on the bed;; in its destined position;; right side up where I can see his creepy thick lips smeared with red lipstick smiling at me with his pupil less eyes;; not on the floor;; in a position that can only be called digging a hole with the redness of his sexy lips.

As long as you treat me and my things with RESPECT I have no problem whatsoever.

Heck;; you can even come bring your bed and put it side by side by mine as long as you RESPECT what’s mine and know where to draw the line between being friendly and being rude.

THREE

Do you know what it feels like when you want to wear that certain shirt that you really want to wear today because;; you don’t really know why but at that time;; on that day;; you suddenly feel the need to wear it no matter what happens?

Did what I said make any sense to you my dear readers?

Let me rephrase that question.

Have you ever woke up one day and realized;; as you lie on that bed that you have graced with your saliva from when you were sleeping;; that today is the day that I will eat Lontong Johor? Or I wish that my mom knows how to cook tomyam? Or let’s sembelih a deer because I’m having cravings for it’s meat?

Have you? You have;; right?

I believe every human being on this planet will wake up to this conclusion at some point in their lives. It’s 

proven.

Well;; I had high expectations when I was standing outside the door of my room.

I expect the room to be neat and clean and my pair of slippers that I bought in وسط البلد;; (please copy and google translate HAHAHAHA) for 1 JD;; to be neatly arranged before the doorway;; ready to use.

But nehi he.

It’s not there.

Actually that has been occurring fairly disturbingly nearly always lately;; that I dare say that I am a master at frowning whenever my eyes search for my cheap slippers at the doorway.

Okay. I’m actually used to the fact that Ami like to use them because she doesn't have a pair of her own;; so I decided that I don’t have to be over dramatic and let it slide.

I walked in and sit on the carpet (we don’t have sofas or cushions which is a pity. I would love to see how many of Ami’s friends she’ll squeeze into our room every night to sleep together.);; pull off both of my socks and finallllyyyy noticed something critical.

We have tvs actually. What I mean in ‘we’ is we;; Sakan Kuning live-ins;; have a tv in our rooms. Some have channels. Others find themselves staring at black and white static scenery when the ‘tit’ the on button.

Well anyway;; our tv was on a little plastic table. Which under it I arranged my water boiler;; my iron and my rice cooker.

I was a in the mood of spreading the love and doing a good deed and making the world a better place by cooking the rice for lunch for my roommate and I when I opened the cover to find myself staring at the interior of the rice cooker.

Do I really have to write my name in BOLD CAPITALS on all of my things?

I can’t believe my neighbor has THE GALL to take my rice pot and put it permanently in their room!

Yeah;; I didn't come home often but that doesn't mean you have permission to use my things without asking first.

Because;; in my defense;; those are still MY things so you don’t have ANY right to treat it as anything other than MY stuff and NOT yours.

Is my ambition too high?

I did not dreamt of coming home to find my single bed transformed to a canopied king- sized bed with silk bed sheets with golden linings.

I did not wish to see my wardrobe to vanish and in its place a walk-in.

I did not ask for my study desk to be transformed into Nobita’s so I can open a drawer and hop in to ride the time travel machine.

I want to come home to find my things neatly in place where I put them.

I want the place that I will be living in for a year to be deemed safe for me to keep my things and where I can retain a bit of privacy.

I want a place that I can relax and not worry and generally getting pissed off when someone uses MY stuff and not return it.

I want a generally peaceful life where everyone respects each other and the room opposite from mine would bake heavenly smelling cookies and give a plate to every room on the same corridor;; wearing a homely apron and cheeks red from being too long sticking her head in the oven. Yes;; straight from an Enid Blyton’s novel.

I want to live in a community where I can trust my neighbor to bring in the laundry when the sky looks like it’s about to cry.

… Not that there’s any rain here;; except when it’s nearly winter. Then it will rain. My seniors said it’s the mark of the changing of the two of the most noticeable seasons in Jordan.

Anyway….

I really need to discuss all of these things with my roommate.

Contrary to what most people thought about me;; I’m actually a very forgiving person and I don’t like to fight or quarrel or participate in a cold war with anybody.

I will definitely show my displeasure to Ami so that we can live together peacefully and without problems.

I hope that I will learn something from this experience;; and I pray that my blog’s number of views will go up.

I always say this at the beginning of my posts;; but this time I will say it at the end.

Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers :D