the drums are such beautiful instruments, everybody will automatically hog the drumstick and start smacking hard on whichever part of it whenever they see one. with a very simple concept, it is actually quite easy to understand the basic functions of a drum set. the basic fundamentals of the easiest drum beat can be learned in 45 minutes, while the joy and satisfaction one will experience is limitless. because of that, i thought it through and thought giving it a try will mean no harm. little did i know, that when your limitless satisfaction changes into a crave, it will mean damn lot of harm.

i got the shock of my life when 3 sooty guards were at my doorstep. i thought they were there to give me the registration form to join the in-house pool competition, or was there to give a satisfactory reply to my mom's feedback about the early closure time of the convenience store a few steps away - none of that. my mom coincidentally was outside of our house when she returned from work, and asked the reason why they were there then. they said politely that one of the residents had complained about the noise supposedly coming from the drumset. and so, my mom turned on part of her gangster mode and said that we had a drumset at our house. fearing for the worst, the one of the three guards said that it wasn't us, and that it was coming from a block next to ours. okay, you get my point now - guards are wimps. and wimps are losers. can you imagine what they were thinking then.?

guard A: i may lose my job.
guard B: i may lose my job.
guard C: i may lose my job.

like telepathy, y'all.!

who gives the guards the rights to stand outside my door, invade my privacy, make my maid think she's being stalked, dirty the floor mat at the doorstep, and act like legal law enforcers to disturb me from my 'work' just to say, "there are neighbours who are complaining," when they know i won't stop even if they gave me 20million dollars (maybe i'd, because that would get me a big bungalow away from the residential areas). they must have been jealous - too jealous - because they haven't seen or heard a drumset before. they are deprived of music back in their hometown where the only musical instruments are made from pots and pans. and maybe metal cutlery. either that or, they want to take a look at my drumset because they haven't seen one in their entire life. so, using the somebody-complained excuse, they thought they could step into my house. BUT PLEASE, terencejit used the world's energy to convince me to allow him to enter my house, what makes you think i'll let you in.? finally, the third and last reason i could think of, is that they aspired to be policemen since they were youngsters. you know, those days back then, when you hold a mp5 in one hand, and a handgun in the other, and thought that placing a samurai sword behind your neck into your shirt and into your trousers is possible because samurai swords are made of erasers? those were the days small young children were taught to admire policemen. sadly, those 3 guards didn't make it into the home team, and settled for a guarding occupation at a... CONDOMINIUM.

and what do these guards have to do here at signature park.? they have to smoke 2 cigarettes every 5 minutes, because that is the only way they can end their life by 45, since it is so meaningless; press the button to lift the barrier up to allow cars to enter and vice versa; oh yes, check the IDs of those who aren't residents here; pick up the phone, take out the thick file which reads, "GAMES ROOM", and fill in the caller's block number, unit number, and function card number to help them book the room; chase the people out of the poolside by 10pm; last but not least, take the last bus home everyday for morning shifts, and take the first bus home for night shifters. you call that life? they shouldn't be called guards. next time i see anyone of them, i'll straight away go, "hi slave."

and do you think they are well-paid? these people don't even own a car (as far as i know). there's not designated area in the visitor's parking lot which says, "for guards only." i doubt they have proper homes, most likely only rented flats. you know why is that so.? they spend at least 12 hours of more a day in a day's work.! so you can imagine the conversation between the tenant who wants to rent a room out and the guard.

tenant: so how long you intend to rent this room.?
guard: 10.
tenant: 10 months? sure thing.
guard: no hours, a day. you can return some allowance to me because i won't be using the toilet at all, and... actually, i don't even know if i'll need a bed.

then the tenant will fall flat face-first onto the ground. back to my point - these guards really don't have any rights to act like policemen. i don't care how many scars and bruises they have attained when they were young just by imitating a policeman, which brings me to a funny thought. you can imagine this in the guard room.

guard A: i'll be the first to be a policemen because i have 2 scars and 4 bruises on my back.
guard B: so what? i have 1 scar and 60 bruises on my back.
guard A: 1 scar only? hahahahaha.
guard B: fine, i'll cut myself just to become a policemen.
*then he goes on to cut his wrists*
guard B: see.
guard A: i can do that too. (and you predict what will happen next.)

and then, there won't be any condominium guards in singapore anymore. when my mom told me that the guards were looking for me while i was bathing, i told my mom to hold them back because i wanted to reason it out with them. unlike their crave for alcohol and cigarettes, i have a limit myself. i hit the drums whenever i feel like, but stop when the clock strikes 7pm. and i think that's fair enough because that's where most (and i said most) of the working adults make their way home. they are the ones who needs more rest. i think i'm being very reasonable here - once, when walking home, i heard some loud drumming from the apartments opposite mine. and what was he playing.? bass-bass-snare-bass-bass-snare bass-bass-snare-bass-bass-snare-hihat. yes, you guessed it. the interlude between the bridge and the chorus of the green day song, wake me up when september ends. and he didn't stop - he kept on playing the same thing over and over again, and i could hear it from where i was standing. now, that is noise. mine is, i don't know, it could be, but at least i don't play that irritating song over and over again.

so fine, guards are wimps and wimps are losers. AND SO ARE MY NEIGHBOURS. you know, if anyone of them came up to me and tell me that their child will have tuition every thursdays from 3pm-5pm, i will definitely refrain from playing the drums. because if i don't, i'll be very unreasonable here. and if any of my neighbours came up to me and say that there's an old women living just up there and needs nothing but silence, i'll throw my drumset out of my window, really. lastly, if anyone of them came up to me and say that i play the drums like travis barker, i'll kiss him or her 2 months straight, without stopping. after that, i'll start my revisions for the Os. we could formulate something, if only they will make use of their mouth.

enough of venting my anger. something i should look forward to which will lift my spirits up - i'll be watching the musical, phantom of the opera, with some of my classmates tomorrow. and of course, walking up the stage with 1500 heads focusing on you, and 3000 palms slapping hard on each other, with yellow bright lights shining on you, just to receive that prominent plague - oh so good...