N I N E T E E N

I just came across a song that I wrote exactly a year ago when I turned eighteen. The title is ‘Take Flight’. It’s one of my quirkier sounding songs, with promising lyrics and a positive outlook on life –not my usual signature. The song starts with the lines: ‘Am I really, eighteen already? Don’t know where the time went but it’s gone.’ Link to full lyrics: http://jesssings.blogspot.com/2011/09/take-flight.html

Yes, I’m a teeny little worrywart when it comes to ageing, and alright, fair enough, turning nineteen is hardly anything to worry about, but to the little girl still in pigtails and Adam-inspired-glitter-eyeliner in the back of my mind, the thought of leaving my teenage years are absolutely horrifying. Almost grasshopper-encounter or spider-alone-with-you-in-your-room kind of horrifying.

I already spot tiny but unmistakable creases at the corners of my eyes while I start to find politics intriguing –gasp, I know right.

This year, on the 17^th of September which falls on a Saturday, I hadn’t much hope at all of having an ass-kicking birthday the way I used to not too long ago. Wow. I really am getting old. Older, I remind myself.

Anyway, I will be relating my 19^th birthday to you guys in my favorite way –story form :) and here we go:

Instinctively as always, I’d woken up that morning without the aid of an electronic device, just by the warmth cast on my face by the sunray that sneaked in through a sliver between curtains.

I stretched my arms out as far as I could. Blinked once, twice. Oh, right. It’s my birthday today.

The buildup to my birthday was an unusually apathetic one, if any at all. I guess when you live to be nineteen the fun is already slipping away a little. I swapped away the words ‘young adult’ that formed in my mind as I got up to get dressed.

It’s the same day we are having a little farewell get together for one of our gang –Jessica. Liz had already left then and already, I missed her megawatt smile she greets people with.

We –the gang is comprised of eight including myself but seeing that Liz was already in UK then and Carmen was an hour’s drive or more away from the state we reside in, it was only us six (Crystal, Zhiss, Sophia, Jessica, Ryan and I)- were due to meet at 10.45am at Ooi’s Noodle House –an obvious favorite of ours and the discerning people of Subang; they have the best pork noodles. Alright, they’re probably not the best, but they’re the best I’ve had in my nineteen years.

Living up to our reputation, everyone arrived later than we’d planned. I’d reached first, without having to find a parking spot in that bustling part of SS15 as my mother so graciously offered to send me. Crystal, Zhiss, Sophia and Ryan came shortly after, with presents in tow. I hadn’t realized I’d been babbling about cooking and baking but evidently, my observant buddies did –and they got me recipe books. It was amusing and sweet –until Crystal revealed that she really just wanted me to whip up a batch of cookies for her.

Sophia came with the works –a magnet that coincidently says ‘Seize the Day’; my blog title is ‘Seizin’ the Day’, a pair of vintage looking earrings, a book of her commendation and a meaningful, humorous card. I was already contented then.

We chatted for about an hour –that’s how long these scrumptious bowls of noodles take- and that’s when Jessica arrived. Truth be told, I hadn’t expected her to remember my birthday, much less make a big deal out of it as she must’ve been up to her eyes with packing, farewell dinners and whatnot. As she made her appearance though, I noticed an unusually large package she held behind her as she walked into the crowded restaurant.

I hardly made anything of it –she always carries many bags at one go; big, small, jeans or canvas, you name it.

As she settled down and we exchanged greetings and playful putdowns about how tardy she was being –this was mainly provided by Sophia.

I’d noticed between conversation that she’d whispered into Crystal’s ear –quite inconspicuously, she must’ve thought. Then not a moment too soon, she crouched down and pulled up a delightful looking cake.

“Ta-da!” She’d grinned like a child who just got a cookie. “Happy Birthday.”

The cake was a sight to see. It was chocolate mousse, and covered in a rich, succulent layer of dark chocolate. All around and above it were macaroons of green, red and tan. It looked absolutely tempting.

We all made a good fuss over the cake –Sophia and I whipped out our cameras and started clicking as Jessica and Crystal hunted for a lighter.

We all had the cake after our piping hot noodles and when Alan turned up after running a few errands for Jessica.

After we’d had our fill of food and had a good few pictures together, we moved on to a place called Meeples. It is a fairly new entertainment place where people come together to play board games which are not quite as popular as its big-name counterparts like Monopoly.

I didn’t think much of the place at first as spending five ringgit an hour just to play board games didn’t sound too appealing. But as we progressed into the first game –which caught Ryan on quite an unlucky day (Moo!)- I found myself having a good time. After a good few rounds of said game and a couple of others, we parted –some earlier- with hugs and lingering goodbyes to Jessica.

It would be our last time seeing her in person before her break in Cant/Kent (?).

Dinner with the family –daddy excluded as he was on a business trip in Japan and Hong Kong- was at Pizza Hut. Not the fanciest place for a celebration –daddy promised something special for when he gets home- but Jenny and I absolutely love the base of their pizza –a little bit doughy, a little bit crunchy.

Later that night we were at home and I was using the computer as I related the day’s festivities to mummy, Jenny and Janet. I’d told them about everything, right down to the part where I had to bring home a half melted chocolate mousse cake and chuck it into the fridge and that I’d participated in a RPBG (role-playing-board-game?) for the first time and kind of enjoyed it.

Not missing a beat, the constantly hungry Jenny had asked, skipping to the fridge, “So can we have a slice of that cake of yours?”

“For sure,” I encouraged, not looking up from the laptop. “Go help yourself.”

“Is it in this box?” I’d only heard her ask as my eyes were glued to the screen.

“It’s the only box there, isn’t it?” I’d asked incredulously, still typing away at the keyboard.

She’d made her way to where I was sitting with the box.

“Actually,” She opened the exact same box with a sly smile on her lips, “It’s not the only box in there.”

I peeked into it, not following her, and expecting to find a half-eaten, half-distorted due to the melting. Instead, there was the whole cake, just as I’d seen it that very morning.

“Oh my-” I broke off mid-sentence.

Then I laughed till I think I cried.

My mum had bought me the exact same cake and she knew it too. They all played it so cool that I didn’t suspect a thing. We all had a good laugh about it as my mum convinced us she must’ve bought the cake before Jessica did as she was there very early in the morning.

As I blew the candles, cut the cake and gave out slices all over again, mummy took pictures to send to daddy.

And that was it. No hype, no party but I had an amazing day, with my good friends texting me good wishes throughout the day and being surrounded by good company throughout, it was a great way to spend my turning nineteen :)

Liar Liar by Christina Grimmie (Cover) by Jessie

one of my favourite youtuber's original number which i lo-lo-love :3

Moon Cake Festival !!

Moon cakes, lanterns, yams; enough said.

The Moon Cake Festival has got to be one of my favorite celebrations, among others. As its name suggests, the festivities revolve around the moon, and the mystical enchantment about it. However, naysayers have tried quashing my love for said festival by reasoning; Man has already conquered the moon by spearing into its crust with a flag, walked on or rather, bounced-due-to-zero-gravity on its surface even. The inexplicable respect and/or fear for the moon and its gods and whatnot are just an old wives’ tale.

I smile despite my annoyance, most the time. I think twice before my tongue slips out of my mouth like a juvenile. For me, it was never really about the moon’s rumored ethereal beings, it was just about how it is always a full moon on the day of the festival, and how it hangs in the black velvet sky, outshining its sparkly contenders –the stars- in all its blue-corn glory. More importantly, I love how it serves as an excuse for everyone in our extended family come together; to watch the children light –or in some cases, burn- their beautifully colored paper lanterns, to listen to the adults chatter over tea and to hold my grandma’s arm as we walked and she talked about how this celebration came to.

In fact, this was what went down during this year’s Moon Cake Festival. We had our dinner at a modest seafood restaurant –food was good, company was excellent. Afterwards, we headed over to an uncle’s house where the fun really began.

The kids readied their lanterns –of the Japanese kind and tinted plastic animals. As the adults prepared to chaperone, candles were lit and fixed into the lanterns. With Bingo the Jack Russell in tow, we started our delightful walk in the well-lit neighborhood. The young ones were concerned the light in their lantern would be put out, while some of the adults were more concerned for their safety –literally every house had a pet dog, and while we have a dog of our own, we weren’t very fond of the idea of one of the Doberman running loose. Walking through a strip of houses in the neighborhood which had at least one dog in one out of three houses, a cacophony of howls and barks erupted.

We hurried around the block and got back safe, but not before Bingo relieved himself, of course.

Back in the house, grapes were taken out from the refrigerator, moon cakes were cut and more tea was served. I can’t say the moon cakes were the best things my palate has come into contact with, but the company made up for it. My uncle popped in a Chinese movie which starred one of our favorite Asian actors, Donnie Yen while photo albums were brought out for reminiscing’s sake.

Maybe if non-believers had been present at one of my many Moon Cake Festival celebrations, they would understand my affection for the event better. Till then, more moon cakes for me!

Toxic by Britney Spears (Jessie + Charmaine Cover)

Our lounge-y jazzier version of Britney Spears' Toxic. Smooth. Or not. But that's up to you.

Unexpected : of Korean music and Japanese cartoons

               You know how wrong they can get, right? First impressions.

               I mean, I’ve always been bad with my judgement, but of course, prejudice will always exist, as long as we’re human. For instance, when you meet someone for the first time, you’re bound to have a first impression of them. They may be spot on, but most of the time for me, they’re way off course.

               Often I’ve written off people who, upon meeting for the first time, come across as annoying. And just as often, they turn out to be my closest friends.

               Well, it appears the same not only applies to people, it applies to my interests.

               A year or two ago, if you were to tell me about a Korean song or talk about an anime, I’d have put on one of those smiles + nodded along to your every word, probably thinking about something else more interesting like, how well the grass was growing in my yard. Yeah, that was me for you a year or so ago –narrow-minded and content with what I know.

               God how things have changed. Currently I’m picking up the Japanese language on my own with dictionary and multi-lingual daddy in tow. And to think that I’d have never picked up his dusty old Japanese dictionary if it weren’t for my two current favourite animes –‘Kaichou wa Maid Sama!’ and ’07-Ghost’.

               Also, you’d be pleased –or unimpressed, depending on whether you are a K-pop fan or not- that I have the song ‘Fiction’ on my mind and ‘Bonamana’ in my phone. Alright, I’m not quite up to date as I’d like to be with the Korean tunes but I’m just getting started. I’m afraid venturing into Korean linguistics will have to wait though –I’m taking French classes at the moment, self-teaching Japanese aside.

               All I’m saying is, one second I’m confident there was nothing these forms of entertainment could offer me; but the next, I’m all over it. Bottom line: never diss it until you’ve tried it. Although, I’ve tried my ear at a little indie and I only go as far as Florence and the Machine –they’re probably not even that indie anymore. 

Sins of My Youth

It’s been a while since I’ve last swum.

There’s a country club equipped with an Olympic-sized pool nearby my place and by car, it would probably only take 5 minutes, tops. However, it also boasts having three outdoor tennis courts and as my sisters and I have been taking tennis lessons for a year or two now, playing tennis would be our natural option over swimming.

Still, the prospect of being submerged in a large pool of water was inviting especially with the sun beating down quite mercilessly of late. So Jenny –second younger sister and best friend- and I, waggled our eyebrows at each other, having the same thought.

One fine public holiday –our country has quite a few to spare-, we made it a family affair; an hour of badminton followed by another hour of swimming, or rather, lazing around in the pool, depending on how much energy we would have left by the end of the day.

After a good hour of strenuous activity on the badminton court, we headed to the pool, eager for our first dip in months, perhaps a year and more.

Once submerged in the water, I couldn’t wait to begin my laps. I recall having swum 10 laps once and only once, and that was eons ago; I also remember feeling tired halfway of the first lap, always. Much to my astonishment, I’d made it to the end of my second lap before the lactic acid’s effects on my muscles kicked in.

The authorities have always been tactful enough to allocate several lanes for lap swimmers, separating the rough-housing bunch from those who wanted an actual aquatic workout. I chuckled to myself –a few years ago I’d been contented to be on the other side, splashing around with my sisters without concern for exercise; now here I was, putting on my goggles, ready to lose some calories and get a good night’s sleep.

I enjoyed my time in the water thoroughly but due to time constrictions, only managed six laps before hitting the showers.

Upon entering the locker room, the chilly draft from the air conditioner assaulted my still wet skin, the sweet smell of shampoo and wood from the sauna room filled my senses as I avoided getting my toes trotted on by little screaming kids in lethal looking clogs. If I’d closed my eyes, it would feel just like when I was fourteen or so when I still paid frequent visits to the pool; the only difference being I lost some weight, the glasses and my utter dislike for those pesky running children, ha-ha, aging.

So that was that. Ah, memories.

And now, methinks I will be going swimming more often J

SlutWalk

               Recently, a campaign which termed itself ‘SlutWalk’ caught my eye. The name itself is already quite the attention grabber but more so are the pictures that come along with articles about said event.

               In the papers as well as on the internet, you will find pictures of women scantily clad, holding placards with witty but empowering statements like, quote, ‘I am greater than the contents of my bra’ coined to ‘SlutWalk’.

               I was intrigued the first time I came across an article about the campaign and it turns out that the objective of the walk was to make it clear to the masses that victims of rape and other sexual assaults are not to be blamed. Many who took part in the event were sexually assaulted and unfortunately, blamed for the attacks.

               I instantly found ‘SlutWalk’ to my liking. It takes a lot for someone who has been sexually assaulted to come forth to the authorities; but often, instead of lauding you for your courage to speak up, they immediately term you the real culprit, for dressing too suggestively.

               But how often is it that rape victims were provocatively dressed? In countries like India were sexual assault is rampant but widely ignored, were all these victims dressed as ‘sluts’? Even if one chose to stroll in minimal clothing, should it be taken as an invitation?

               Samantha Wright is the woman to thank for bringing this campaign to life. Originally established after a policeman told a victim she’d deserved having the crime that happened to her due to the way she dressed, Samantha also has her personal reasons behind the walk –her husband was previously a victim of sexual assault himself.

               Although I do not condone ever dressing like a slut when going out, I take my hat off to Samantha’s brainchild, ‘SlutWalk’.