I had some truly bizzare dreams last night...

The first was set in a shopping centre, with my parents and somehow there was a knitting club involved and an old argument over waking hours and a hissy fit from me and lots of tears and old dears and schoolbags. That was the weirdest.

The second actually involved YNTV; somehow Challenge 2 became a combined Challenge 2 and 3, and I'd made a really suckish video for No. 2 which had...Avatar footage? Wow. My mind recreated the Avatar scenes amazingly well. Anyway I failed Challenge 2 haha.

The third one was somehow about this really cute guy whom I had no recollection of ever encountering. He was one of those playful and reckless types and we were supposed to make a sculpture out of like plaster or something and then somehow he fucked up and made a fire. The fire was intentional, but the small flame getting out of hand wasn't. And then I made a dash for it and alerted the fire alarm in the school. He was a crying wreck afterwards. Haha. I can't believe I had a crush on a guy in a dream xD

There's what my mom calls a 'getai' every night around here, a tent looking very much like that of a circus set up just on the grass patch opposite the HDB flats. Every night they relentlessly play celebration music, but the songs differ greatly.
For example, for the last few days it had been senseless drum banging. Earlier on, singing.

Today, though, I heard something different. The drums this time were structured and more mellow, and there were electric guitars. A lot of them. It sounded almost like something from a rock band.

But then after that it was followed up by one of those ladies singing Hokkien tunes in their typical way; voices dripping with honey. Oh well. It was good while it lasted. xD

______________________________

There's something else too. The colors. In the sky. You never would get those in New Zealand.

After I took my bath I stared out at the sky. It was musty, dusty, stale, tired. A pathetic excuse for purple, it was more like red blended with black/brown. There was, however, a smidgen of cool, pale navy blended in with the canvas over one of the buildings, suppressing a pale white light underneath. It would be impossible to tell whether the sun was rising or setting if you only had this image to go by.

I was thinking that maybe you didn't get these colors in NZ because the air is purer there, but I prefer this shade all the same.

I am finding out that these are, perhaps, the loosest days of my life. Only comparable to that huge campervan trip in Australia when I was a little kid; and like those days, here I'm free to do whatever I want.

I quite like this feeling.

"Aunt Michelle's returned."

Aunt Michelle had been inhabiting my room in the one year that I'd gone, living with granma. I'm not sure how she did that. Must've been a very awkward roomate relationship.

I nodded my comprehension...And proceeded to catch another 40 winks.

When I did wake up, I found Aunt Michelle in the living room, on the sofa. We talked and chatted, even though I felt a bit awkward at having to wander around with a bunch of adults in only a pair of loose pj's and a just-woke-up kind of expression on my face.

Mom had to go out for lunch with her buddies. More like a full-day outing. She left at around noon and didn't return until after me and aunt Michelle had dinner.

Lunch was chicken rice (again). We talked and chatted a lot, and I got on really comfortably with her. Apparently she'd been in Perth lately. Sweeet. We talked about Singapore in general, what I missed and stuff, but we also talked about her some. I hate when the conversation is so focused on me, it makes me feel like an attention whore.

In between we hardly interacted, I mean you know me, given the chance I curl up in my room for hours on end on the computer.

Dinnertime. Kway tiao was on the menu. Aunt Michelle bowed her head low in silence before she tucked in, which made me pause. Oh...She was a Christian. Wow. How did all the relatives on my Mom's side turn to Christianity? Surely someone must've played Evangelist in the household.

We talked again, this time about Korea, Korean, and Korean dramas. Yeah. She'd recently been to Korea and I was asking her a lot of stuff. Are there seasons there? (Yes) Is the food nice? (Yes, very) Isn't the food spicy? (Yeah, I like spicy stuff)

"The people are nice," she said. "Very polite. Deep Confucius teachings, respect your elders and all that."

"Wow," I said. "I want to go to Korea someday."

Eventually she found out the cause of my interest in Korean culture - I'd watched KDramas. And so did she. So we talked and went over the titles of some dramas we knew. After that we started talking about languages - she'd studied French and Korean before, this aunt had studied so-and-so, this and that and it was traveler's jargon in general. Which is strange because I am not a traveler. Not at all. Not yet.

I like aunt Michelle, she seems young enough for me to be comfortable around her and not disdainful and uninterested like I am around most adults. Yet at the same time she's got that adult, mature air among her, confidence and security, and if I trust her I will know I'm not trusting some unreliable teen.

the human mind really is a terribly odd thing, isn't it?


I get depressed, too.
Like just a few days ago. I was sitting and staring at the buildings and my thoughts went somewhere along the lines of

'what am I doing here?'

And 'here' wasn't referring to Singapore. 'here' was referring to this damn godforsaken (god-given) planet.


I was thoroughly bored with ... everything. Boredom, it seems, is joint-juncture to melancholy in my mind.

'what matters anymore? no...who matters?

who matters these days, anyway?

things die.'


However, the irony is in those times when I feel melancholy, but not the kind of melancholy that is inflicted from boredom.


I was reading Ghost Factory just now. And, mind you, while Poison Apple literally blew my mind and sent it spinning across the floor, I've avoided rereading it.
Yes, this is something new. Because yes, I do reread fanfictions. Multiple times.

But generally, I avoid melancholy where I can. Unless it's a oneshot, because the effects of oneshots are mostly short-lasting. But chapter after chapter of very real agony? ... too painful.


The first kind of melancholy I mentioned is completely unproductive, and yet at the same time unavoidable. It's just something that ... happens. That kind of sadness is something that just is. Like rocks. They just...are.

The second kind, however, is...Depressingly uplifting. That makes no sense, but at the same time it's the most apt way I can describe it. It's kind of melancholy you get when you hear about someone fulfilling his death wish and dying happily. It's kind the kind of melancholy where you are the person fulfilling your death wish, and you die happily.

It's also the kind of melancholy that is served in generous portions for breakfast lunch and dinner in Poison Apple.

Ghost Factory made me so unbelievably emotional. I couldn't bear to read Silence after that, it was just too much.

And it hits home, too.

The thing is, what matters, does. And at the same time, it doesn't.

Whoever matters, doesn't. And whoever matters does.

If it can make you happy feel (alive.), it matters. And at the same time, anything that can make you feel will die, one day. So in the grand scheme of things, nothing, and nobody, matters.

But step away from the big picture, and in the fine print, it matters.

It matters to you and it matters to nobody else.

Sometimes, beauty is the only currency that is real.

And while that can, understandably, depress others, that fact uplifts me.

Nothing matters to the world, which equals = freedom.

Don't be afraid to love, because in the end that love will die, too. You can love with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul, you can love unfathomably -

but your love will still die.

you will still die.

memento mori - it is a sad thing, it is a joyous cause for celebration.

Some things matter, and those are the only things you should care for because they'll be gone one day, just like that -click- with the wind, and so will you.

Who cares for immortality? When you're immortal, everything matters, and that's the same thing as saying nothing matters.
(isn't that right, kami?)

don't be afraid to love, because one day change will come on a wind (as it always does) and the unfathomable will be swept fathoms deep into the ocean.

have the time of your life .

Wow, Day 6 was by far the best day.

And I didn't see the awesomeness coming. In fact the day started out rather (very) shittily, for reasons I won't disclose even here.

I woke up so late, again, so breakfast was out of the question. Brunch? Chicken rice. Ah bliss.

Then we made our way to the bus stop because mom had to go and buy floor mats for the bathroom, and the shops selling them were quite a few blocks away. We chatted amiably, about things and stuff and more things and stuff. Both of us were in a good mood.

I sat in the bus shelter, right next to one of the poles acting as a pillar to hold the whole thing up. There were ants running up and down the pole, which connected into a yellow advertising billboard behind me.

Ants! Wow. Hadn't actually seen any in NZ, now I notice. I was actually pretty cruel to ants when I was in Singapore. I kept on teasing them, blowing them so they'd be frantic and run all over the place, peering into their nests and occasionally provoking their anthills with various objects of the stick variety.

The ants were crawling up and down the grey pole and into a slit on the billboard. It's kind of hard to explain...Anyway none of the ants could or would climb onto me, so don't worry.

There was a tiny slit at the bottom of the pole which lead into this metal base, and the ants came in and out of it. Huh...I wonder what was down there that was so fascinating. Anyway, I first saw that and tried to trace back to where the ants were coming from, or going to. However it seemed that they were getting to (or coming from? I could never figure out) the little slit. I blew at some of them, and they went haywire. but it wasn't so much fun.

I peered into the slit. There was some nondescript grey stuff down there. I expected it to be dust or maybe ash, dirty stuff like that. I blew into the slit.

A horde of ants scrambled out, carrying little white things in what seemed was their mouth.

Ew! Ew! I hadn't ever seen this before!

Then the bus came and I (hastily) boarded.

'Top deck top deck topdeck,' I said, gesturing. So mom and I found a seat on the upper level.

Breath only slightly erratic, I said, '...Can I tell you something?'

'Yeah?'

I told her about the ants. She started getting squeamish.

'Ew...'

'Haha I know!'

'Now I feel queasy...'

'What were those white things?'

'I think they were eggs...'

'Really? It looked like pieces of bread.'

'Well, if they're small and white...'

'Yeah, and they were all the same size...I guess those were eggs. Haha oh god, ew! Were those female ants carrying the eggs?'

'I don't know, I don't think so. The only female is a big one, and there's just one.'

'So were those, like...I mean do ant colonies work the same way like bees?'

'I suppose. The black ants are all male.'

'So...what's the female look like?'

'Very different. It's...big and white and transparent looking.'

I blanched. 'Hah - oh god ewwwwwwwww!'

Mom looked queasy, too. We laughed and the conversation kept on going.

_______________________________

we alighted.

'Don't think me silly for doing this, but...'

she opened up the umbrella. What the fuck?

'I don't want to get tanned,' she laughed. I laughed, too. 'Why not? You're as pale as a vampire!

'On the other hand, I'm so tanned...' I looked at my forearm. 'As dark as auntie Sri's skin.'

She was skeptical.

'Okay, almost as dark.'

Hm, the thing was, when auntie Sri was around I knew my skin was almost as tan as hers. But now it seems I had gotten paler. Huh.

I asked whether there were ways to make your skin paler.

'Sure, like Michael Jackson, you put whitener on. He has a whole crew of dermatologists to tend to him.'

'No but I mean like...natural methods. You get tan by lots of sun exposure, can you get paler by avoiding the sun?'

'Hm...yes.'

'Ah. That would explain things.'

But I wasn't too sure about it.



We joked all the way to the shop. Me and my mom get along awesomely sometimes.


Oh there were floor mats there alright, but mom needed 12 small ones and they came in packets of five. and they weren't the right color. So she decided to buy the mats another day, and we bought some biscuits back.

I hadn't seen any of those kinds of biscuits in new zealand. There were the brown, circular ones, the really hard ones. I wondered why they were called butterfly biscuits.

Ooh and then the wafers. You'd think they'd sell wafters in an ang mor country, but nooo...

And then pineapple biscuits. They reminded me of something.

"Hey," I said as the countergirl packed and measured our biscuits, "Do you know those..."

"Those what?"

"You know...Those snack things with the pineapple filling in them, covered in something, but I don't think it's bread or biscuit..."

"Oh! Pineapple tarts. Like the ones for Chinese New Year?"

"Yeah! Those. I liked those."

I don't think we'd be able to buy them this time of year though...oh well.

The flavor of the wafer I'd bought was strawberry.

___________________

We talked all the way back to the bus stop but the bus ride back was quiet and comfortable.

___________________

That night, we went out for a meal of hor fun, as we'd agreed to have. We went a different route this time, but the walk wasn't far from our block.

We passed a petshop. Mom pointed out a rabbit and I noticed some cute little hamsters, but mom was already ahead of me so I had to run to her.

'Aww! Can we go back by this same route?'

'Yeah, sure.'

Further on we passed a manga shop. A manga shop. I instinctively looked for DN copies.

I found them, on the top shelf. 11 Volumes. I spent a few quiet moments just staring.

"See anything you want?"

"Just...no, let's go." I hurried her on.

I made a decision not to buy any. Besides, what use would I have for them? I'd already seen the anime and I could read English scanlations online.

____________________

Hor fun was good. The serving was generous.

After the meal, sitting there in the spacious and cool area, we were both feeling pretty contented. Then;

"Let's go."

So we did.

As promised, we went back by the same route. And after that nice dinner, I'd made the decision to change my mind.

And I decided that tonight I would walk home with a Death Note volume in my hands.

Um...which Volume again?


I decided to just take the logical route and buy the first Volume. So I did.
Five bucks? Okay, so I might not know much (okay, I don't know anything) about mangas, but I thought they'd be far more expensive...In the double digits, at least. I mean, jesus. The artwork is gorgeous; five dollars?! That's blasphemy.

But then again, seeing how popular DN is, Obata should be rolling in the millions regardless...

Anyway.

I had it!
I had a real Death Note volume in my hands. Oh dear god. I felt delirious and simply happy. How easy it is to please a fangirl.

We passed the hamsters again, and I squee'd. Almost all of them were babies! Cute little ones, like the ones Cookie had before, the ones Mickey and Minnie had before. And the best thing was, more than one was in a cage. I'd learned from experience (and from a few books I'd read) that hamsters are solitary creatures. Cookie proved this to me when she brutally massacred another baby hamster that found his way into her cage.

But no, all the babies were together, and looking strangely panicked for some reason. They ran all around, over each other, under each other, each pawing the plastic sides of their cages as if trying to climb out? Strange. I laughed when one of them trod on top of his sleeping roomate.

________________________________

Woke up too late to even contemplate the possibility of breakfast, so brunch it was. Noodles and rice and soup and stuff. It wasn't all that good but I enjoyed it all the same.

We had went out to Jurong East for lunch. "Do you remember this place?" Mom had gleefully pointed out on the bus.

"Of course I do," I protested indignantly. "It's my piano lesson place. I can't forget that."

Mom had to go there for some massage. So I went to the library while she was at her girly session.

I looked so out of place in the children's section, damnit. To be honest, what with the type of books down there, there should be older children loitering about. The books are fairly thick and complex. But I think the reason that only the littler fellows are down here is because of the genre.

I mean, you don't get a children's murder mystery, do you?

No. Even the Warriors series, which has a fair amount of death and gore and all that lovely stuff, still is relatively tame. Erin Hunter draws the line at necrophilia, after all.

I suppose that's where James Patterson and SF Said take different paths, then...But in a lot of children's books there are still quite a lot of dark themes. So maybe there's another reason.

I honestly don't know why the teenagers avoid them and go for the stuff (I'm biting my tongue from saying 'the crap') like Twilight. Is it because of the species? Anthromorphic, sentinent cats and dogs not your thing? That could be a factor as well.

But I'm just going in a pointless circle.

Anyway speaking of SF Said, I read his (or her???) masterpiece again in the library, Varjak Paw.

Absolutely fab book.

I love it so much.

I'm contemplating making it into a manga (yes, like with all the other books I've read)

Pity there was no time to read the sequel because then mom came back. Wow. A whole book. In one sitting. Before I had time to get over this stupendous revelation I was out of the library and drinking some warm, black herbal concoction mom had bought for me.

Which...I didn't like. But it grew on me damnit xD

We wandered around the shops a little and talked.

"Can we take a cab back?"

"What?" She asked, stupefied. "Why?"

I didn't know, actually. But at that moment I felt rather sick of buses and MRTs. Already. xD

"Granma always takes a cab around" Mom commented.

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know, probably thinks herself rich. Or important."

A laugh. "Is she?"

"Important? Oh, no. Rich? Oh, yes."

"Seriously? She doesn't look it."

"She has seven kids, she lives off them."

"Well then why can't we just ask money from her so we can take cabs around?"

"Haha she already gave you the gold chain!"

"Goodie! So let's pawn the chain and ride back in style."

________

We didn't ride back in style, as it were.


Later in the day we made our way over to Lakeside MRT and then from there to AMK MRT, where Aunt Daphne would come to pick me up for a sleepover.

Pretty much the whole reason why I was happy to be here, reuniting with friends & family.

Mom and her sister chatted the whole way and I just kinda sat there in their shiny Mercedes in comfortable silence. Although, I was starting to feel a bit disappointed...

They'd moved into a new house just before I moved to NZ, and I hadn't seen it yet. And when I did, I was...just...phwoar. Blown away.

G O R G E O U S crib, man. Absolutely gorgeous. Five levels (including basement & attic), absolutely stunning, 3 individual rooms for the kids, and guest rooms, and so many toilets, and a garden, and a conference room, and a garden, and all in all it's just a stunning place. Oh man. Oh man I'd like to live there.

I met their cat, too. Sebastian: a little tabby with blue eyes and so different to the cats I've ever seen. Well, then again, the only cats I've ever seen are the old and lethargic strays in Singapore. This was a kitten.

And an energetic one, at that.

Ran all over and around and under the place. And Sebastian bit, too. Sharp teeth, but they barely leave a scratch. Over the days he (she?) would grow fond of nibbling my hands and feet whenever it had the chance.

Apparently we'd be going to a seafood place for dinner.

'So...where are we going?'

'The crab house'

'Wait, wha...? Oh, okay. I thought you said the crap house.'

'XD'

Crab!

Crab!

The first time in a year I'd eaten crabs (save for the smallish, pathetic excuses of crabs we'd fished from the sea in Wellington). Oh god. I was so deprived haha. We had curry crab (with the little bread pieces to dip), and then black pepper. Unsurprisingly, the black pepper far exceeded the curry one in terms of spiciness.

Dinner was a fun affair. I drank coconut juice and played around with the flesh. Drew on my mom's notepad. And...promptly lost it once we went back to their house. Which was a shame because I had drawn lots of good stuff in that notepad. Why is it that I always draw my best works on scrap notepaper with pens, of all things, and in the most surprising locations?

After that, Mom left, and I watched a Korean drama in their living room. There were four of the most gorgeous asian boys starring (although sadly none of them were Lee Jun Ki). Rachel asked which one I liked the best.

"Hm..." I had to go for the pretty brunette with the neat hair.

A part of me worried that I picked him simply because he looked a lot like Raito.

I thought about this, considered it a very possible probability and then dismissed the thought.

But the guy was nothing like Raito, he was all quiet and shy and hardly spoke a word. In fact if I met a guy with that kind of personality in real life I'd like to give him a slap, supermodel looks or not.

Then I went up to the highest floor, the attic. The attic was home to a magnificent guest room, huge and splendid. It was where aunt Jane slept. And it was fucking epic.

I took a bath there, was an idiot and didn't realize there were no towels so I did the best I could with my spare clothes. I was damn lucky I didn't catch pneumonia.


I slept in Rachel's room.
______________________________

Next morning was woken up by aunt Daphne.

We had to go to Church.

This was the only thing I didn't like about the whole arrangement. Church.

God, I would be so bored...

_____________________

I would go with Rachel, all the P6's in one area. It would last 3 hours, 9 - 12.

"So, what's the arrangement?"

"From 9 to 10 we stay here, and sing and the pastor will preach, and then from 10 to 10:30 we go to lessons, and then from 12 to 1..."

"Yeah? From 12 to 1?"

"Um, we do activities."

"Like what?"

"Like...well, activities."

No matter how many times I asked I still got a rather vague answer, so I gave up eventually. I reallllyyy wasn't looking forward to the 'activities', though, whatever they were.

Halfway during the singing/preaching, I was approached by a lady holding a clipboard. She told me to fill out a new arrival's sheet.

"How'd they know?!" I whispered to Rachel.

"Oh, they know. They know the faces of folks here."

I filled it in to the best of my ability - fuck, I had to do it in Chinese -, only stopping to ask Rachel once or twice, 'Wait...What?...'

'Oh that means your parents and your parent's number.'

'Ah.'

The girl behind me was probably pretty amused. And I should've been feeling awkward, but I wasn't. I actually felt pretty amused, too. I'd lost all my shyness and awkwardness over the years. Good riddance. Social graces are such a drain.

After I finished I handed it to the girl.

Later on in the session the man suddenly announced my arrival (in Chinese, of course). I actually wasn't listening, my mind lost in daydreams. And then Rachel nudged me and once I noticed the customary applause for new arrivals, I said, 'That was unexpected,' buried my face in my palm, laughed, said, 'Did not see that coming...'


__________________________

At the transition period between preaching session and lessons, we could eat and drink and basically chat. I stood outside, standing there just munching a bread bun and suddenly found myself in conversation with two old gents.

It was hard to keep up.

I had to keep pretending I didn't hear, damnit.

Jesus, it was embarrassing. My Chinese really sucks. I had to ask Rachel for help a few times. We all laughed. (at me or with me?) After that ordeal (and I'd decided that, OK, I still did have some awkwardness left in me), we went to the lesson.

I was to share Rachel's books and stuff, since I had none of my own. The teacher asked me in a hushed voice, 'Em, are you a Christian?'

I lied 'Yes'

She nodded and started the lesson.

'Of course,' I said to Rachel. 'If you're not Christian then why go to a church?' I laughed. She laughed, too.

'Well, maybe...Y'know, to be...'

'Oh,' I said, realization dawning. 'To be converted.'

. . .

'...But are you?'

Rachel's sharper than she looks.

'No,' I said easily.

'Ohhh...'

'Well,' I smirked, 'I was. Once.'

'Really? Can you tell me why?'

'Sure,' I said, and meant it. 'But later okay?'

'Okay,' she smiled.

There was this dude in a red shirt who kept disrupting the lesson. These kinds of kids were in plenty. Noisy, thinking themselves witty, rebellious. And fun.

I'd missed the SG boys, the outwardly geeky appearance, the glasses, the spike haircut, the board shoulders, the skinniness, the toothy grin, and those bigger-than-average adam's apples.


The room was comfortable and despite the chatter, it was easy to daydream. I didn't bother even paying attention and drifted off, call it sleeping with one's eyes open if you will.
_____________________________

the 'activity', as it turned out, was held in another, wider room. We were told to draw the person we hated the most in the whole wide world, a major asshole you'd love to knock the living daylights out.

I thought, amused, that some people would draw Light Yagami, given that challenge.

I drew Mrs Habeeb, even though I don't hate her. She was the closest I could get, anyway. Well, except for my p3/4 Chinese teacher, but I can't even remember her name or what she looks like anyway...

after that, the pictures were all stapled to a board and we could all have a go to throw darts at the faces.

The response was halfhearted.

And after all that, we were given a lesson and a moral story on how to forgive and forget; love your enemies and all that stuff.Honestly now? Nobody cared. We were all talking and mucking about.

Wow...Sunday school teacher is officially the worst job in the world.

____________________________________

After church, lunch at burger king! Uncle Harold was busy so the teens and tweens just sat at a table. I had a mushroom swiss. Wow. Cheese and mushrooms. Epicsauce much?

I played this guitar-hero-type-game on Esther's iPod. I can't remember now what type of iPod it was, but anyway.

There were no Muse songs, unfortunately, so I settled for Coldplay's Lovers in Japan.

Wow. Medium level and I just about DIED.

Seriously. It was so hard. XD

After a while Esther took me out of my misery LOL. I wonder how she got that good at the game. Practice, probably.

______________________________________

I'd picked up a book to read, from Esther's bookshelf.

Seeing as how those days were dull and disappointing, and the girls were all either very busy or uninterested in my presence, a book would do me good.

I selected a James Patterson novel, purely because, well, he was such a reverend name in the world of murder mystery - I had to read something from him.

Roses are Red. Provocative title, and a very provocative cover image, but the back told all: the crimes were that of robbery-murder, and very little of the rape & sexual assault variety the front suggested. That is, if you don't count necrophilia; the raping of the dead. I mean, the dead can't actually refuse or consent anyway, so...

yeah. I read it. It was good. The chapters were short and snappy and they befitted a book of this nature. The characters were awesome and all. It was a good hook.

I slept in Rachel's room again that night.

_______________________________

Actually, the only reason I could stay another night was because, lo and behold, Monday was a holiday. Hari Raya.

And the absolutely tragic thing was - even though she'd studied all throughout the weekend - I still had to sit with Rachel while she (we) did Maths and Science.

She was studying with the help of this hometutor program, which is, quite literally, a tutor session in a CD. It was actually pretty cool. And informative. I found out how much I really failed at Maths and Science now. Jesus Christ.

After that, aunt Daphne hosted a one-on-one Science overview and...invited me in.

Wow. I reallyyyy wanted to go hide under a rock at that point but how could I refuse?

The science lesson was tragic. It went through all the most basic of basics and I may be an idiot, but I knew all that. God. It felt like I was being taught my ABCs.

She talked about magnets, asked us to name a few properties and I said dumbly,

"The opposite poles attract...?"

"Yes! That's right, like girl and boy. ... So that's why we don't have boy + boy. Well, I suppose you could la...Like friends, that is. Not...you know, in that way. That's wrong; not how God intended it to be."

She laughed and so did Rachel and I smiled, even though I wanted to facepalm. what am I doing here...

_____________

I finished Roses are Red sometime that day.

I loved it. Throughout the whole book I kept guessing here and there, and I never allowed myself to be 100% of who was the killer. I even suspected Betsey at one point. And I didn't think Francis was the man, either. Oh, no.

I loved the ending. It totally floored me. Ah, wolves in sheeps' clothing...who doesn't love them?

_____________

We went out to dinner at the AMK MRT shopping mall, where mom would pick me up later. The kids ate at a Japanese place called Pepper Lunch (irony, because we'd had dinner there), and the adults went somewhere else.

Now the way they did their food was this. You had your meat on yer plate, raw, on this iron hotplate. There would be some butter on top of the meat and you'd spread it around throughly. Then you flip it over and wait till it's cooked.

My chicken and salmon tasted pretty damn awesome.

We talked about what kind of food there was in New Zealand.

'Nope, you'd get nothing like this...And you'd hardly see any foodcourts either. We eat in mostly, my father cooks Chinese stuff. I don't really like western,'

'You don't?' asked Esther.

'Well...I do, but only if it's cooked really nic-'

'What about pasta?'

'Oh! Yes. Pasta. I love pasta.'

'They got Pastamania there?'

I ate at Pastamania once, and I loved it. 'No...I know, tragic.'

The food was good. Very good. Salmon! I hadn't had that in a year. Wow...You don't know what you got until it's gone and you have it again.

'Do you hear that?'

'What?'

'Music'

'I don't hear anything...'

'I do! It's Coldplay.'

'Oh! Yeah, that is Chris Martin's voice...'

'Heh, what song is it?'

'Um...'

I swear to god I couldn't hear. I could tell it was Chris' voice, no doubt about that, but he was murmuring so softly I couldn't make out a damned thing.

'...First one to guess the song wins.'

She laughed. We kept on eating and then suddenly, when the music hit a crescendo, I knew what it was. 'Oh!' I shot upright; she looked at me. 'I know what it is!

'It's um... Clocks...Or Yellow.'

'No, it's not Yellow'

'Yeah, it's not. Clocks now. Definitely sure of it.'

Once the music reached the ending, though, I was 100% it was Clocks. I smiled at the irony.

"Home, home, where I wanted to go..."




_________________________________

The ice cream flavors were majorly weird. Honey & Caramel, Green Tea, and... Black Sesame. I had Green Tea. It tasted pretty good, even though it was just cheap vanilla with Green Tea powder. And the powder looked like pollen grains.

_________________________________


Aunt Daphne then offered to go buy me a present. I initially politely refused, since I had no idea what I wanted anyway. 'Take it as a Christmas present,' she said. Well...That makes sense, but I still had no idea what I wan-

'Hm, how about sneakers?'

Oh.

...Yeah, sneakers would do.

Mom had been insistent on me buying a new pair, since I only had three, and one of them was too big while the other two were falling apart at the seams. A new pair would be good. I agreed.

We ended up buying Nike shoes. Jesus. Nike shoes. Thank god there was a discount on and the price was less than a hundred.

__________________________________

Lucky to have been
where I have been
๑۩۩๑
I still find it hard to believe that yesterday, I had cereal for breakfast and today, I'm having pig intestines instead.

Yup, folks. Kway chap for breakfast. Believe it. My plan for these 3 weeks is to live off hawker centres completely.

After the breakfast (which was by far the nicest breakfast I'd had in 2009), me and mom just went wandering around the shops. What I love about Singapore are the crowds. There's so much to smell, to taste, to see, to hear. We passed some clothes shops.

I think there's one trait that's really characteristic of Singapore. Occasionally, you see the nice, branded, well-thought-through clothes, with pretty designs and good color coordination. And then, of course, you see the absolutely crap clothes that have none of these qualities, and for some reason I don't see those in New Zealand. Fugly, stark and contrasting colors, images that look like they came out of a Disney coloring book. And colored with all the wrong colors. They're absolutely hideous.

But now they make me smile.

We walked along the shops. You can find absolutely anything here, I swear. Rows and rows of cheap household items and then suddenly a luxurious pawnshop pops out of nowhere. This and that and everything else. Vendors selling wares right on the street, traps for rats and cockroaches and, apparently, men, can openers, tissues.

What I love about Singapore is the vibrant and exuberant crowd...But I think I'm the only one in my family that does. My mother and father don't like crowds in general. Ah, no surprise. I'm a city girl, anyway. I love the hustle and bustle.

When the clouds showed potential of rain, we headed back into the house. I think we arrived during the wet season. W00t. I love rain.

Later went to Teban Gardens for dinner with my maternal grandparents.

My grandfather didn't recognize me like LOLWTF? Haha I don't know if I'm amused or a little offended. Does the hair really change it so much?

Later, when eating, by force of bad habit I put my leg up on the chair like I'd seen my father do so many times. Granma and mom immediately started laughing and conversing in incomprehensible dialect. Even without knowing anything from the language, after hearing my father's name and 'Teochew' in the conversation I could more or less get the gist. I put down my leg hurriedly, grinning like an idiot.

Apparently all Teochew people sit like that. Huh. Really? I sit like that because I like to, but maybe...

'Is it in the blood?'

'I don't think so...'

'Are you sure?' I grinned.


Lucky to be coming home
again

Confusion never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop now that you know
๑۩۩๑


Yeah I pretty much realized that it was in terminal condition thankyouverymuch, and that I hadn't updated in a long time. I actually noticed a pattern. When I got into the swing of writing and reading, when I got really immersed in Internet Literacy: those are the times when I'm hooked on a drugfic. Mind Games, and then CoD, then Poison Apple, Devil's Trill, and those inbetween periods of oneshot obsessions...That's when I really wrote and wrote and wrote and blah blah blah. But 2009 has been a year mainly focused on my AMV ... 'career', especially of late so I suppose it comes as no surprise that writing and rambling has almost halted. And it also amuses/disturbs me that when I do blog, it's largely about...my fandoms.

Uh but I'm really getting off track here.

What I wanted to say, was, truly, what a happy coincidence that the post below this was the one I wrote when I'd just found out I'd be returning to Singapore, and the one after it (this one), is the one about when it actually happens!!

That's right folks, today, I got up at the ungodly hour of 3:45 am to catch my flight back here.

I went to bed at ten-ish after TopGear, and I didn't really sleep much. It was rather reminiscent of my days when I was younger and had thoughts running amok in my mind at night, I must've been quite the insomniac back then.

The drive over to Wellington airport was a nice one; me and my father talked the whole way. I was actually a bit conflicted over the fact that Papa wouldn't be coming with us. He's the person who's had more roots in SG than any of us, truly: He's older, he's definitely less patriotic but more knowledgeable, he's got more family there and less family here, in NZ. It didn't make sense how he wasn't coming with us. I considered the possibility that he was sacrificing this opportunity to let us come here instead.

But then I stacked up the reasons why he wouldn't want to come here. As I said before, he's pretty much anti-Singapore...And he loves it in NZ although the culture is still an unfathomable paradox to him. He's got a job here, and most of all: he gets dreadfully airsick. And carsick. And seasick. So on so forth.

Still, the drive to Wellington Airport during the wee hours were comfortable. And during the stretches of silence, it was memorable. As we drove along the quiet road, the river stretched out to my left. The darkness melded together, island and water and sky were all a bottomless black so I only had the lights to give me an indication of the horizon. It was all very disorienting and beautiful. All the streetlamps lit up and streaked yellow, dripping light down unto the black water beneath. Some blue and purple billboards shone in the darkness and their colored auras spilt beneath them, like shimmering teardrops.

Papa gestured to me as we were going through the outskirts of the city. He told me this was the rougher area of town, a little darker, a little dirtier, and little more danger, and a little less decent folk around here.

Out of the deceptively healthy heart and into the nicotene-drenched lungs, I thought. Crazy metaphor, but it worked. I suppose all cities have their little shadowy corner. I like shadowy corners, though. I enjoy the dirty little dives and confusing alleys.

But then finally we reached the airport. Hugs and cuddles were exchanged and well, yeah, I did feel kinda sad that my father wouldn't be coming along with us ):

Anyway I won't go into detail about customs and all that terribly boring junk. We took the same route home as we did when we left home. Wellington -> Sydney -> Adelaide -> Singapore. All I did throughout the flight was fidget, sleep in cramped positions, eat, talk, watch and listen to stuff. Four episodes of Two and a Half Men, probably about an hour's + worth of TopGear, and then rocking out to Coldplay and Muse. Ah bliss. And then the journey was over, just like that. We landed. Finally. I actually did a sharp intake of breath when I saw the familiar face of the buildings.

'We're home,' I grinned at my mother.

I took quite a few photos as we disembarked. I'm planning to do a huge slideshow thingie on Vegas when I get back to NZ. It's a shame my handphone camera is so crap though.

Anyway, we were both probably too full of adrenaline to be jetlagged, even though there was an extra hassle with our luggage almost being lost.

The airport was comfortingly familiar. The 3 Terminals, the ATCC looking like a stick with a golf ball perched ontop it, the ostentatious, glamorous rooms.

As I waited alongside the trolley while my mom just went to check out the runaway luggage issue, I saw the huge crowd behind the glass door, behind the metal railing. The waiting family and friends to greet their loved ones as they returned. I felt sad that in that whole group, nobody was waiting for my arrival. No one saw my expression, and just as well, for it resembled that of a kicked puppy.

Oh well. I'd get to hang out with my folks soon enough.

That was pretty much what kept me going.

After we solved The Mysterious Case Of The Missing Luggage, we stepped out the glass doors into the warm, early evening air and hailed a taxi.

I'd known that Singapore would be much hotter, but I guess I underestimated how much. The air was so warm and heady, it was like walking into a hot shower. But once I stepped into the taxi it was fine, because there was air conditioning. And speaking of the cab, it had that lovely smell that cabs have.

Now, even when I was in Singapore I'd hardly ever been in a taxi. But the few times that I had, I found that they all smelled the same. I'm pretty certain that it's not meant to be a fragrance, but I ended up loving the smell like it was a perfume. It smelled wonderful. And every single cab smelled the same. What the hell?

We drove along and I instantly felt overjoyed. All those buildings were so familiar. The gargantuan office buildings, the huge shopping malls, the HDB flats, the Singapore flyer (of which I took a photo of).

And I got even more excited as we neared into Jurong West and into the carpark lot of our old flat. As we loaded out the items, me and my mom sat there talking about the luggage.

"Where's my jacket?"

"You're so forgetful..."

"...What? OH! In my bag isn't it? Haha"

I noticed my grandmom walking up behind my mother, which meant I could see her. But I didn't really say anything. Let her have the element of surprise and anyway, what could I say?

So she managed to sneak up behind us. She and my mom exchanged cordial greetings and girly gossip as we made our way up the lift floors. Cantonese or Hokkien, didn't know nor did I care. I was pretty speechless in their presence anyway, and not in the 'awe' way. It was slightly awkward but I'd grown used to my lousy language skills.

When we did get ourselves back into the flat, the first thing I did was check out my room. Aunt Michelle had of course adjusted it since then, to her likings, but I recognized my familiar items everywhere. It seemed she was still using my stationary. And my old CPU! And I found my art files and stationary where I'd left them. God my old stuff was so embarrassing. I took a quick video and some snapshots of the place. And immediately turned the aircon on. It was really getting hot.

After that I changed into Singaporean getup. I realized that in NZ people really did care more about what they wore, whereas here they didn't give a toss. You could wear whatever you want, look hideous and still blend in. I wore a black-ish sort of shirt with a rather pretty kind of logo on the front, but an ugly and totally mismatching plaid orange/yellow skirt. Still, as yuky as it was, I fit in. If I'd worn my stylish shirt and simple black jeans, as cool as that would've looked, I would've appeared strange to my fellow natives. Save the dressing up for going to the mall.

Oh, and...Those clothes were my old ones, left behind in the flat. Yes, I'm surprised they fit too.

We had fishball noodles for dinner, and god, it was so nostalgic. This was true Singaporean fare, so spicy that all you could focus on was the food. The chili left a numb sensation in my jaw and a tingling in my tongue. Mom bought teh tarik, and shared some with me.

All the while there had been joyous singing and celebration coming not too far off...probably just one or two blocks away. We'd arrived, it seemed, just during the Mooncake Festival season. There were party lights everywhere, and singing in various dialects by people of various accents.

I could very well have fallen asleep to that lullaby, but it ended far too soon.



...But I must admit something.

In the quiet moments in the car, on the plane, in the taxi, in my mind, I'd wondered whether I actually wanted to come back. "Is it worth it? What if it all goes wrong and I just can't have fun with my cousins and friends like the way I used to? What if they've moved on without me? What if I've moved on without them? What if we've lost it all to Time?"

But looking out the balcony at the urban scenery of brick and neon and the love that holds it altogether, I find that I really don't care for the outcomes. In the end, I'd rather be here than anywhere else.


Oh nothing else compares
And nothing else compares


Home, home, where I wanted to go.