I Am Not The Rice People!

Hey people!

Mood: Feeling very Georgia N.

Song: In The City by Kevin Rudolph.


I looked straight in my mum's eyes and in my ever-so-serious tone, I said, "Mum, I think you're not my real mother neither does dad."
She would sure be shocked by this confession. I'm sure she will grab a hold of me and said, 'Of course! Iam your mother!'

But Nooo.......... She smiled in her amusey smiley way and said, "Oh?! Now you knew?"

What kind of person is that?! 'Now you knew?!' Sheesh.. she needs to be thankful that she has a really ignorant daughter who has a seriously thick head.

I ignored her,"I may not be one of the Malay after all."

Then my sister butted in "Of course we're not! We're half Javanese,half Bugis, half Indian and half Chinese." I knew she would say that. She's proud we're not really Malays but the 'penjajah' of this country.

"That's besides the point!" I said irritatedly, " Anyway, obviously I am not the Malays because I hate eating rice." I pointed my bony finger at the rice on my plate crinkled my nose as if rice nauseates me.

"I think I'm Italian, I love pasta and their err..food than rice." There I said it.

There was a moment of silence before they all burst out laughing. " What's so funny?!'

My mum scoffed, "You don't looked like an Italian."

"You don't know what Italians looked like."

"Did I mention I studied in America? Some of them are half-Italian after all." Oh..here we go again with the 'I-know-more-than-you' attitude.

As usual, I ignored her, "Probably they mixed me up with your real daughter because duh.. babies looked the same." Which is true..to me anyway.

From that moment I realized something, I was ignored. Everyone went on like this topic hadn't even brought up.