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.
