Stand-up Comedy

In Grade 2, I remember being always listed as number 1. Then I remember the accomplished look in their face knowing that they’ve been a good, little evil minion of a slacking teacher. They would then tell me to go back to my seat as they ‘might’ rub my name off the list. I wish she choked on the chalk powder, in other words, I just didn’t care. I was the official class prince charming, I was nominated then voted into position and no one can stop me now. I remember the pretentious ‘don’t-nominate-me’ then ‘don’t-vote-for-me’ whispers, with matching a fake vote for the other nominees for the full effect, or maybe out of pity. Now, I’m also listed on the other list. 

 There are two, ‘Noisy’ and ‘Standing’ with the glorious (-2) beside it. What was the deduction really about? It didn’t matter. To me, at least. I still made it to the stupid honour’s list and got my ‘Most Helpful’ award.  Especially now, many years after, it doesn’t matter—even my most recent tertiary degree doesn’t. It’s a stupid list; one can’t be listed on one and not the other. They always come together. If you loiter, you do it right. My proud name written on the board felt like a glorious engravement of the statues of great men. Then when the teacher came back in, I always had a good excuse. Although most of the time, I would tease the “goodie-goodie” student by erasing letters of my name while they take the throne. No one dared to diagnose me with ADHD until in Junior High, because I just seem so cool and energetic.

Standing still is different from still standing. Rising from the ashes means to stand afterwards. It’s a stationary action but still considered as a verb. How odd is that? Sorry, I got totally distracted as one of my parents walked in the room, stood by me while I was writing this and told me they’ll get me a new car. I felt like standing in a pedestal, that I can’t move or else I’ll fall ‘til then. There’s too much on my shoulders now, and I feel like I’m falling down.

In mega-department stores of the mega-malls of my home, making money means standing up the whole day. It could also mean, being nice and actually doing your job if you get bored of chatting with the other sales assistant. For ladies, they are expected to wear heavy makeup to patch up the scars of their wild childhood or instant purple bleach their beautiful brown complexion. 8 hours a day, correct me if I’m wrong and they’re on a very low wage. Unlike here, sales assistants here are on the other hand, pretty without trying; with personalities too intimidating that you would feel bad walking out with nothing at hand—that’s why I never walk in their shops or I’ll be hyped as shop-lifter at the end of the day.

The big guys are meant to be seated down, i.e, The Great Buddha. Isn’t that great? Those people that sit in nice office chairs, with someone seated just around their office doors. Yes, I was talking about doctors. But yeah, all of those people are seated down. Is it exhaustion? Is it laziness? Or standing up isn’t necessary? I think it’s because there are enough people standing up for them. Just like in a moshpit of a concert, then they’d jump to the crowd and someone’s more than happy to hold their back, while caressing their bum. Even kings and queens enjoyed being seated. Their wax figures have done more standing and they should be ashamed of their melting-counterpart.

So, how can we “the last man standing” is the one who wins? I can imagine this as the last bowling pin left. Nothing but being sucked back up to be recycled for the next hit. When we stand, there’s nothing in it. Just like a scarecrow, being fashionable since the start of agricultural cosmetic need. If I were just to stand around, the bus might come on time, but I have lowered my expectations so far that I come in 10 minutes than its schedule and watch myself freeze, my freezing-counterpart. Just don’t stand up for your rights, do something more... maybe like write some stupid narrative about it!