Sweet Escape

'To an Infant, Deep in Slumber' and 'Women Don't Cry' - two tiny works completed. It should be a good sign, but I need more creative juices flowing to my brain to get myself satisfied.

Janice crashed at my place today. She's just introduced me to TV tropes, Sherlock Holmes (BBC version) and got me interested in watching an anime 'Hetalia'. We're also ready for another outing next Monday, as well as a sweet escape after getting our results.

Speaking of that dreaded day, my thoughts bother me about it every now and then. We either fly or die. I don't know which to think.

I should stop. And move on to another work. It's a sweet escape for now after all.

Magic Box

Some time ago, we had a mini farewell gathering for Janice, who would be leaving for USA later this month. I had a feeling there would be more farewells as the time comes, which is quite disheartening if I think about it now.

Normally I can come up with metaphors and symbolic statements to say how I decided on the design for my card. To this, I say...the little ducks at that craft store were simply adorable. I had to use them.

Did you raise an eyebrow? Maybe if I try hard enough, I can come up with something better than that. What about "Good luck in another pond but don't forget which feather you belong to"? Choose whichever reason you prefer.

The whole day seemed to remind us of those 'nostalgic' days. Ringing the doorbell and hiding somewhere else to lure Janice out, plus the 'nostalgic' moments in the park and by the pool. Let's not forget the dinner and "buns" and desserts too! Gorgeous cake, don't you think? Now picture this with scoops of Haagen Dazs Strawberry Ice-cream. Salivating now?


So I hope that the 'magic box' will continue to bug Janice until she goes up the plane and that she'll enjoy reading the many messages that we've collected and put in it.


From left: Elisa, Chiah, Jia Yu, Si Onn, Janice, Evena, and Yours truly,

Pen in Motion Again.

I only have about one week before I know my fate. Throughout the past month, I realised that there are so many things I long to learn. Subjects that range from Greek Mythology and World History to Psychology and Environmental Science.

There are so many things I long to do. And still I am stuck. I need something to get me going again, a sort of stimulus to jolt me back into them.

At least, I am sure, I have new ideas for poems. Not many, but sufficient. After such a long drought (my last poem was written in February), my pen is in motion again. If only I can complete that poem...

Built her own paradise.

Suddenly I felt like listening to Michael Learns to Rock's 'Sleeping Child'. The lyrics resemble a father singing to his child, and the melody is tremedously sweet.

Me? I'm glad that I'll still be around for my new cousin's First Month Celebration. That's all.

If all the people around the world
They had a mind like yours
We’d have no fighting and no wars
There would be lasting peace on earth
If all the kings and all the leaders
Could see you here this way
They would hold the earth in their arms
They would learn to watch you play

Oh my sleeping child the world’s so wild
But you’ve build your own paradise
That’s one reason why I’ll cover you sleeping child

~ Sleeping Child, by Michael Learns to Rock ~

PS. Japanese Dinner and Celebration, here I come!

Can you?

Can you love someone you have not met? Strange question, you might be thinking.

Yes, I agree. And it is such a heartwarming feeling.

Tonight, an sms reached us as we waited for the news. Then we had it. We have a newborn baby cousin!! Babies are such lucky little ones. Even before their birth, there are people already doting over them and ready to welcome them into the world.

Therefore.

Congratulations to my uncle and aunt. Hi, the infant who would not yet understand the monosyllabic word representing my gesture of welcome. And a good good good day to you!!

I know I had one.

Sweet Dinner?

The pasar malam (Malay: night market) is, as I am aware of, a part of Malaysian culture. Not that I am a frequent visitor. It is only on nights like this that we would treat ourselves to the food there,giving our usual eating habits a break.

We drove to the night market area, found a convenient parking spot (rare occasion), stepped into the crowd and voila, dinner was only steps away.

Everything we picked reeked sugar. The lok-lok was good, so were the dim sums. Just that we're not used to drizzling sweet sauce over our dinner. Let's not go to the kuihs and taiwan pancakes. After making that one full round at the pasar malam, we decided that our stomachs can't take another sugary shot.

Occasional indulgence, we told ourselves. Though the next time we visit another pasar malam won't be too soon.

Familiarity.

Red eggs (intentionally dyed ones, of course) can mean one thing - there's a birthday! The Chinese believe that it is a symbol of happiness and fertility, so where there is a birth under the roof of a Chinese, there are eggs.

That day marked an auspicious time for a figure in Chinese mythology (it slipped from my memory) and an early birthday celebration for Guan Yin, the goddess of mercy.

By 3am the furnace was allowed to run. By 7am, we were greeted by the usual amount of food in the kitchen, ready to be taken out for rituals. Red eggs, ang ku kueh (红龟糕) , fatt kueh (发糕 or prosperity cake), colourful fruits, bowls of jelly, duck, chicken, and pork.

Here's a different angle as the lens can't fit everything in. I wouldn't question the taste of the food either. After so many years at work and befriending the poultry sellers at the morning market, we are in good hands.

If I translate the word literally, ang ku kueh (红龟糕) means 'red tortoise cake', but I'd go with the description. That is, a kind of pastry with vibrant warm colours in the shape of a tortoises' shell. I've been told as a child that it symbolises longevity.

Food is an unmistakable art as well.

Weeks before the event, paper money would be prepared. I help out when I can.

As always, after that, they would be burnt as an offering. I've been having mixed reactions regarding this particular tradition. On the one hand, it IS tradition, and yet it seems to be contributing to global warming.

While the fire devoured the paper, and the heat sent the burnt bits flying in the air, we walked back into the house to divide the food. It left me pondering - everything was such a familiar sight. Only an unfamiliar thought burned into my mind.