Impressionists

People talk about how important it is to make a good first impression, especially in the employment and dating scenes. I guess there's some merit in that. But sometimes first impressions aren't cast in stone and are subject to change. A positive first impression can transform into a negative after-impression and vice-versa.

Take, for instance, me and the girl in the hat. (Yours truly is the one in the red-and-green striped shirt. Pardon the hair -- this was in 1988 after all and I was too young to know better.)


For some reason we disliked each other on sight. We were staying in the same dormitory when we were college freshmen. There was never any obvious hostility between us, but the snide comments we exchanged whenever we encountered each other were probably more toxic than open, outright warfare. But (and I don't remember how) we grew to like each other as the days went by. So much so that we chose to become roommates the succeeding years. She's in many of my happiest memories of those days long gone. We'd go to class together and cut class together; she'd cry on my shoulder and I'd cry on hers (teenage female hearts were so easily bruised by male teenagers, the bastards); she'd hold my head while I was throwing up because I'd had one beer too many, and I'd be puking along with her when she'd had one too many; and the laughter, the side-splitting laughter we couldn't help indulging in over everything and nothing. Happy times. We still keep in touch, and I see her whenever she comes home (she lives in the US now with her family). If I had stuck to first impressions, I would have missed out on those experiences.

Then there's this guy. I wouldn't say I hated him with a passion, but I really, REALLY disliked him when I first came to know of him. His live performances (the ones I saw on television anyway) sucked, in my opinion. All he had going for him were his looks and some sound studio magic. It'll be the end of the world before I could ever get to liking him, I remember thinking.

But after years of intense dislike, he's grown on me. Now, much as I would like to deny it, I can't help admitting that I like him. How it happened, how the hell should I know. I just hope this isn't a signal that the Apocalypse is upon us. Good Lord, please, no! I haven't even been to Europe yet!



(This song is for Nunu's Mum. Not saying I disliked her on sight, on the contrary! She's a fab lady and I liked her from the get-go. But this song just reminds me of her somehow. I wonder why, PinB? ;-) Haha!)