In Continuum.

Me, The Shoe Designer

Woke up cold one Tuesday,
I'm looking tired and feeling quite sick,
I felt like there was something missing
In my day to day life.

Cheryl is right, she really is. I remember her telling me that the obscene amount of school fees we pay aren't really for the lectures and the classes, but for the grades at the very end. Of course, you can always argue that the lectures and the classes do amount to a good grade at the end. After all, if you do a random survey of the relationship between attendance and results, I am sure you are going to realize that they are positively related in every case. However, there are times whereby you just cannot concentrate in class, and you feel that you could work better on the floor in the lecture hall - which was pretty much what I did during UGC lecture today, about ancient African empires. The truth is, Angelica is a really nice lecturer and everybody knows it. However, she isn't a very good lecturer in terms of bringing her point across, because she just isn't a very interesting lecturer. Which is quite a surprising considering the narrow age gap between herself and the rest of the cohort, but I guess some lecturers just have that vibe with the students while others don't. Some students acknowledges her kindness and shuts up in class, while others just cannot care less, most of the time.

Personally, I can't be bothered if others can't be bothered. I do not intend to yell to the class like a certain individual, for them to shut the hell up halfway through a video presentation. I'd rather retreat into the corner and study on my own, and not contribute to the surmounting noise level whenever Angelica is trying to speak over the sound system. She doesn't have a very booming voice to begin with, and it is not helping that half the lecture theater are being complete idiots most of the time. Anyway, I couldn't take the sights and sounds of those ignorant schoolmates of mine today, which was why I left my chair and sat on the floor with my back against the side of the lecture theater. I studied there most of the time today, with earphones plugged into my laptop and Sigur Ros' new album played at full blast. That was the only way to keep myself from screaming some random vulgarities at the crowd of inconsiderate schmucks - though at the same time, I do not wish to commit social suicide, like how somebody else has already done in numerous lectures everywhere.

So I quickly opened the wardrobe,
Pulled out some jeans and a T-Shirt that seemed clean,
Topped it off with a pair of old shoes,
That were ripped around the seams,
And I thought these shoes just don't suit me.

You see, from where Angelica was, it was impossible for her to spot me. I sat with my back against the wall, left side of my body leaning against my bag and the laptop on the ground. There I was, hidden from sight and minding my own business with a pile of PSY101 notes that I borrowed from Pao. I figured that I almost never listen to her lectures, and I am still doing pretty well at the subject, so I might as well try to focus on something else, more productivity involved. Besides, this week is quite a week for everybody, and every second counts for something. At least I managed to gallop through both chapters that are going to be tested this Thursday, but at the same time I managed to observe a couple of things around me that were worthy of the next blog entry of mine, which is this entry you are reading right now in the comfort of your own home, I reckon.

I guess not a lot of people actually takes not of what other people are wearing on their feet, or even their feet in general. Girls are always sitting around coffee tables, comparing their fingernails, and guys are usually eying each other in the urinals comparing something else entirely. Nobody ever really takes note of other people's footwear, or anything below the ankles. I do know of guys who take note of girls' ankles, because they believe that even ankles can be sexy in their own special way. I do not share their enthusiasm in the subject at all, but I found it a rather interesting sight, seeing those legs dangle all around me like a dozen Christmas decorations, albeit a little strange to behold. It'd be rather disturbing to see a bunch of legs dangling from the trees on Christmas, and certainly not something I'd want to see danging from there for this coming Christmas either. Then again, judging from the pathetic decorations in the past few years, perhaps legs might be a welcoming change after all.

Hey, I put some new shoes on,
And suddenly everything is right,
I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody's smiling,
It's so inviting,
Oh, short on money,
But long on time,
Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine,
And I'm running late,
And I don't need an excuse,
'cause I'm wearing my brand new shoes.

A shoe designer is going to tell you that what you wear and how you take care of your feet, define you. It'd be rather sad if you take that for a fact, especially if an accomplished artist or businessman has bad looking feet, or a bad taste in shoes. My father doesn't have very flattering feet to boast, in fact he has been plagued with what we call "Hong Kong legs" for years. Then again, it's not like he uses his feet to sell barrels of oil, unlike shoe designers who live and breathe shoes pretty much everyday of their lives. I don't suppose I am going to fully understand what those warped Italian or French designers are speaking of when they talk about your shoes and feet defining you, but I guess today was a great first step to FET101. Today I attempted to put myself in the shoes of a shoe designer, and examined personalities through the way people cared for their feet and the kind of shoes they wore. You might be wincing in disgust now, or closing the browser to go on to a more pleasant blog entry somewhere else. But rest assured, I did not smell anything in my process of observation.

(Names have been removed to protect the identity of the shoe wearers and feet owners)

Let's begin with those sitting closest to me today. D is pretty careless with his shoes and feet, not giving too much attention to them most of the time. They seldom fidget throughout the lesson, one foot atop of another while the rest of the body worked on something else most of the time. But judging from all the untrimmed toenails of his, it is not hard to imagine those toes crying out for help underneath that nice looking shoes of his, begging for a good cut every once in a while. P's feet is a little rounded on the edges, and doesn't have a great relationship with her slippers at all. They are arched high most of the time, with the balls of her feet touching the slippers while the heels lifted high, as if she was wearing an invisible pair of high heels. The bloodshot bottom of the feet might have been the reason, because they might have been uncomfortable wearing those pair of feet. I guess those fifteen minute walks home from the bus stop has finally taken its toll on her feet, and the feet is pissed off at last. With its face turning bright red, it is protesting against the uncomfortable and worn out slippers.

Woke up late one Thursday,
And I'm seeing stars as I'm rubbing my eyes,
And I felt like there were two days missing,
As I focused on the time,

In the brief time that S remained in the lecture theater, it wasn't difficult to realize that he has walked miles upon miles upon those feet of his. Worn out soles with dead skin, he probably never gave much attention to those pair of things anyway. But then again, he wasn't giving too much attention to anything in his life these days, except perhaps those expensive camera lenses and the photographs he is taking, supposedly making him a hefty sum of money outside in the working world. Nonetheless, he has given up his current life to pursue on something on the outside, which isn't the smartest move from out perspective. But then again, it is not hard to tell why he is caring so little about the things that are important, and the people that he should be holding dear. Like the people who truly cared for him, and the person that gave up her dolled up life just to be with him, they all ended up at the bottom of his feet as just another patch of rotten dead skin.

DO's feet are too pale for his own good, almost ghostly in comparison to others. Come to think about it, it seems to be the trait for the rest of his complexion as well, as he sits there at the back of the lecture theater with his soft, radiant glow. Gentler and perhaps smoother than most feet of males, his slippers were in the way of their uniqueness, almost like a sore thumb sticking out from a palm. Sitting right next to the pair of shoes his current girlfriend was wearing, they already looked like a great pair together. His girlfriend wore a pair of worn out shoes that has been worn perhaps one time too many, but still intact enough to be worn out as a fashion statement. They reminded me of a pair of Siamese sisters, always staying close to one another and never leaving too far apart. Her feet stayed close together most of the time, as if they were afraid to be separated somehow. And that slight tilt towards the pair of pale white feet that belonged to her boyfriend's, reflected a young and innocent love like those in the eyes of a child. It was loving in a way, but a little repulsive to observe such human emotions in human feet, I suppose.

And I made my way to the kitchen,
But I had to stop from the shock of what I found,
A room full of all off my friends dancing round and round,
And I thought hello new shoes,
Bye bye them blue

If there is a way to outshine your wardrobe with your shoes, then K has done it pretty well in her own special way. If there is a more successful marriage between the owner of the feet and the wearer of the shoes, I'd like to see them with my own pair of eyes. Because K probably has the most fitting pair of shoes to her personality out there, fitting around the edges of her feet like a roll of polyethylene wrap would around a piece of chicken breast. Like the careful hands of a mother feeding her child, the edges of her shoes fitted well with her feet, as if to tell them that they would take care of her through rain or shine. A comforting thought I guess, and the checkered patterns sure tells a lot about the wearer of the shoes. A little wild, a little crazy - yet the subtleties prevail in their mysterious ways.

J's feet hates their slippers, and they fidget like a monkey bound to a wall by chains. They never stopped shaking throughout the lesson, leaving the slippers to hang by the gaps between his toes. I guess it reminded me of the owner's personality as well, always looking for something to do and always for that excitement around the corner. They never kept still enough, always rotating in a certain direction or the other, and sometimes up and down in a dizzy manner. My mother used to tell me that shaking my leg would shake my wealth away, just another one of those lies parents would tell you as a kid, just to have you stop doing a certain thing that pisses them off immensely. I guess his mother never told him about the shaking leg bit, but then again it doesn't seem to affect them at all. After all, wealth and money isn't even part of his concerns as a person, but rather a fulfilling life that is full of excitement and entertainment. Down with the materialistic needs, he'd say. Bring on the roller-coaster ride - without safety precautions this time.

Take me wandering through these streets,
Where bright lights and angels meet,
Stone to stone they take me on,
I'm walking to the break of dawn.

KE's feet gave up on her shoes completely. The darkened marks in her heels point to a long-term discomfort, like the constant arguments between a married couple. The worst thing about this marriage is that a divorce would be impossible, unless you intend to go about the world in bare feet for the rest of your life. KE's feet hates her shoes, leaving them aside in the corner without giving much care and concern, and that has been the trend observed by me, as she would sometimes stick both her legs up onto the chair next to mine out of her own comfort and convenience. It is almost as if her feet are saying that their lives has been too stifling, too hard to breathe in the confines of her shelter. There are times whereby they just want to get out of the routines of their lives, just want to be out there without a care at all. It is nice to be around nice and new shoes sometimes, because they always make you look that much prettier and more recognized. But then when you are not faced with people who are judgmental, you just want to let loose sometimes and scream your heart out, all the while with those pair of shoes left far behind at the back of your mind.

I know, that I disagreed with the words of those shoes designers in the beginning of this blog entry. But after blogging about the different pairs of feet, I guess it does say a thing or two about the owners. You might argue and say that I've been looking too deep into things, or thinking way too much when I should have been studying PSY101 instead. In actual fact, I have been studying while I observed, and it doesn't take too long for somebody like me to derive in those conclusions mentioned. Besides, I don't suppose I am known to others as somebody who "thinks too little". I am merely living up to my name, so who can blame me for reading too deeply into their shoes and feet? The most trivial of things, the most minor of everything - that is a motto a writer should live by, and I am trying desperately to catch up with that.

Hey, I put some new shoes on,
And suddenly everything is right,
I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody's smiling,
It's so inviting,
Oh, short on money,
But long on time,
Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine,
And I'm running late,
And I don't need an excuse,
'cause I'm wearing my brand new shoes.

Take me wandering through these streets