Melancholy

Vocabulary.com describes it as the gloomiest of spirits and I think that's about right.

It's not to say that I won't make jokes or laugh at them, but there's still an underlying sense of despair lurking around. There is no festive mood whatsoever. No mood, in fact. For anything. Except lying in bed under my Pikachu covers.

Oh please let this work itself out somehow I'm not a bad person I donate to charity from time to time I help old ladies with their groceries I contribute to buskers when I enjoy their music please let $98 fall from the sky and into my bank account so that I can meet Taking Back Sunday and also another $98 so that I can help my friend meet them too pretty please all I want is not much but it is

I always end up at the library.

Ah, back to the old school days. Remember how your mom (or your maid, if you're atas enough) fussed over your hair and P.E. uniform, and rapidly fired instructions for you to ignore: "Don't wander off," "Don't talk to strangers," "Listen to your teacher," "Eat the vegetables I packed in your lunchbox," "Don't break anything," etc.

Remember how you probably did all of the above except listening to your teacher and eating the vegetables? Good times.

Excursions were like a holiday except you still had to wake up early, but you could actually play the entire day with your friends, unlike a real holiday, when you would have to stay home and get nagged at by your mom because you were too young to go out with friends.

[Pardon the long sentences but I am running on a huge packet of fried rice and frankly, being able to type at all while in a food coma is a pretty huge deal in and of itself. Worship me.]

Anyway, yesterday I had an excursion of sorts with my two weirdos and to emphasize the importance of the outing, I had voluntarily gotten out of bed before lunch time (this has not happened on weekends in months) and went to have McDonald's breakfast! Hashbrowns rejoiced upon my arrival because finally, someone who truly appreciated their glorious golden crispiness had come.

The trip to the River Safari was more or less mundane except at one point on the bus ride, one of my weirdos (Anzhu) said out loud in English, "If his arm hits me I'm gonna slap his face," and both Sophia and I turned away hurriedly like we didn't know her. Because the arm in question was attached to this old Caucasian dude standing next to Anzhu, and we were pretty sure Anzhu's proposed punishment outweighed the crime.

Then we felt bad and started whispering in Mandarin while looking at the floor or ceiling or pole or wherever else:
"Oh my gosh Anzhu you said that so loudly."
"Yeah, in English, too."
"Skali he knows Mandarin."
"Okay we are all screwed."

Despite our basically asking for it, we arrived at the River Safari not dead, and almost immediately went overboard with the photo-taking. It's hilarious to watch people take selfies and group selfies, but trust me, it's much funnier to watch them take failed group selfies. Aaaand I'm talking about us. (Don't worry, one day we shall perfect the art.) Loads of tourists were probably judging us.

What's there to see at the River Safari, you ask? Well, lots of plants, for starters. But they made them all unobtrusive so it's more like walking in a resort than a safari. A resort with gigantic killer fishes. However, the real highlight of my day was getting to see a hedgehog up close for the first time in my 21 years of life. I EVEN TOUCHED IT.

They should really come with a disclaimer: SO CUTE IT HURTS.

After the exhausting day at the safari, we went to gobble down pratas and headed to the library. We also discovered that the three of us only needed 30 minutes per meal. Period. Not sure if it's because we eat like fish (open mouth, insert food in mouth, swallow) or because we don't eat enough.

Hahahahahahaha yeah that was a joke. We definitely eat too much too fast.

"Gosh, we're such nerds," the other weirdo (Sophia) exclaimed with unabashed glee. She seems to be surprised every time she realizes how nerdy our common interests are. But it's less of a "Why are we so uncool?" and more like, "How are nerds considered uncool omg I think we are the epitome of cool??"

One good thing about our trio of sparkling friendship is that we love going to the library under all circumstances (Anzhu was practically a walking corpse; tired + food coma) but I think I saw this coming from way back in secondary school. Back then, our favorite pastime after school was going to the library (besides eating lunch). On weekends, what did we do? Go to the library.

In primary school, my weekends were spent primarily (heh heh) in Toa Payoh, which was only a 15-minute bus ride away from home and had everything I needed: a movie theater and a library.

Being an only child with both parents working had me trained since I was nine to be independent and go places alone. I recall feeling perfectly happy to travel to Toa Payoh's four-storey library and just spending hours there with no interference from anyone. Granted, I only stayed on the first floor in the children's section for years, familiarizing myself with every Babysitters' Club book. Eventually I discovered the teen section on the highest floor and that was when I realized I'd grown. Goodbye Kristy and the other babysitters; hello teenaged infatuation and heartbreak.

When I entered my rebellious years (that just means I had friends to go to the library with after school; Mom'd be like, "Why aren't you home yet?!" "I'm at the library." Such a badass.) I frequented Hougang Mall's tiny but sufficient library and built my Young Adult repertoire there. So many pink covers passed through my hands that I felt bimbotic before the word was even a thing.

Libraries have always been a sanctuary for me. To be surrounded by stale, dusty books and wondrous worlds beyond them was ecstasy. During those days I would dread going home, partly because my mom was kind of a crazy lady then, and partly because the library card only allowed me four books home. How was a girl supposed to survive on only four books? At the rate I was devouring them, three library cards (mine, Dad's and Mom's) weren't even enough. It got so ridiculous one time when the libraries offered double loan limits - they do that twice per year - that a nice lady on the bus gave me her extra plastic bag because I was carrying 20+ books with my tiny bare hands. Ah, those were the days.

The time I spent soaking up pointless teen girl romances, in hindsight, should have been better spent on studying. And the money I've spent on books since then could have sponsored a college degree by now (I am clearly exaggerating, by the way). But books have a way of whispering my name, telling me to key in those 16 numbers and clicking on "Confirm Order". I just want to own them and smell them and caress them and shelve them up according to series and height. It's a terrible habit, buying books relentlessly when there are already so many unread ones lurking on the shelves.

Does anyone have any system to curb book-buying and encourage book-reading? Because I keep getting halfway through a book, just to start on another simultaneously and eventually end up with five different half-read books.

It's like readception.

I understand that you're just trying to make conversation.

But why can't you get it in your thick skull that a steady lack of response means disinterest?

And it's not like the things you say actually require a reply. When no reaction arises, you repeat the exact same thing. Has it ever occurred to you that there is a reason for the silence you're perpetually meeting?

Okay, I admit that I am prejudiced against you because everything you do annoys the hell out of me. Is this what it's like to really hate someone?

I can't wait to get my driver's license and get the hell out of your sight. Because being in your vision disgusts me. Old men like you should keep their comments about the opposite gender to themselves in all circumstances.

用可樂 冰你溫暖的臉 (Cooling your warm cheek with a can of Coke)
你的笑總是意外的甜 (Your smile is always surprisingly sweet)

Gah, I have no talent for translating Chinese lyrics, seriously.

I really like how simple yet poetic the lyrics are, though. The image it conjures up in my head is purely feel-good and makes me want to frolic on the beach. And cycle. And swim. And dance. And eat. The list is endless, just like the song's title, which is called Turning The Pages Of The Endless Summer?? Oh god I need to brush up on translation skills.

Since my new phone has died for now (you lousy piece of overpriced plastic and microchips), I have resorted to blankly staring at the computer screen downstairs for an indeterminate amount of time. Or I disappear upstairs to stealthily use the computer there for maximum slackage. As I am doing now.

When will lunch time ever come?

It takes two fucking hands to clap.

Ohana

I should never have underestimated these people's dedication and sweetness. It's almost diabetic except that it isn't unhealthy for you. In fact, the greater the dosage, the better.

On some days I wonder if I'm a good person. On days like today, I figure I must be good enough because I have a bunch of crazy, loving friends that make me aspire to be so much more, just so I can be wholly deserving of their affection.

To dear Mervis, my unrelenting mentor and whimsical partner-in-crime, may your vivacity never waver. Your best quality is your love for life and all it has to offer. The way you seem to reach right into my heart and know all the things I didn't even know myself is just uncannily precious. Thank you for all the effort in everything you do for me (and the others), especially all the cherished hours of sleep and gas mileage that were sacrificed hahahaha. Please know that they are not in vain and are always appreciated.

To dear Aziee, my twin in all things nail polish, everyday gossip, and Doraemon, who has stuck by me since before I even met the others, I know I can always count on you for anything. Every time that our eyes meet in silent laughter over something stupidly hilarious, I feel blessed to have met this twin sister I never had. May there be ceaseless gushing about cute boys and gorgeous nail colors, and I can only pray that we will simply grow into old ladies and not old bimbos together HAHAHA.

To dear Lesley, my adooorable karaoke kaki and surprisingly fierce bargain hunter, may we have decades more of inappropriate singing out loud, planning of surprises, and fantasies of Disney fairytales. The seaweed may be greener in somebody else's lake, but the seaweed in my lake is the best shade of green because you are in it. #lessyndrome is the only syndrome I wouldn't mind suffering. Thank you for being my angel with hidden devilish horns. *huggies and pampers*

To dear Lava, my wonderful enabler of excessive accessorizing, may the times we share be as meaningful and tremendously fun as they always have been. It's not easy to see you on a regular basis, but during times that I do, I feel like no time or distance has passed between us. Your laughter is often the fuel for my lame humor and it's as if you emanate sincerity from your very core. (Now is not a good time to reveal that all along you were just laughing politely. No, Lava, NO.) Thank you for just being the person that you are.

To dear Faisal, my constant source of new music and weirdly fabulous diva moves, days spent with you are always remembered fondly. From your insinuations to your preferences to your sometimes too-loud-too-sudden yelling of alien language, it's been a blast having you in my life so far and I hope that you get more pakcik sandals because lately your shoes are too legit for me to mock. *winks virtually because in real life I can only do it to a wall* Okay seriously, thank you for all the times you have said I'm fine just the way I am.

To dear Eugene, my preferred person to pick a fight with, may our exchanges of wit and sarcasm be endless because I know ultimately you mean the best for me and this is our special way of communicating. Please know that everything I say usually needs to be taken with copious amounts of salt and that you don't need anyone to validate you, because you are awesome in your own right. Patience is a virtue that you encompass more than anyone I know, and for that I am thankful for having you in my life because god knows one needs patience and tolerance to deal with me on a long-term basis. *sheepish grin*

To dear Irwan, my favorite Malay singer and English singer and sometimes-Pinoy, may the music and movies and puns with you never end because life is too short to be spent in seriousness (#YOLO). Your greatest asset is your ability to balance humility and pride, coupled with sizzling charm. Don't ever let any girl break your heart because other (fan)girls are probably getting their hearts broken by you! I'm perpetually grateful for your presence because frankly, you up my street cred with other friends HAHAHAHA.

There. My gratitude and love in seven individual paragraphs. Words cannot fully express my every sentiment so just know that you all are important to me and helped me develop into the camwhore that I sort of am now.

Sorry if you were expecting a touching closing sentence. This is me, trolling.