Where It All Started

I am sitting here typing and my windows are wide open. There is a steady breeze coming through, the sun is beating down cheerily on the green tops of the trees outside my windows and I am listening to the low rumble of an approaching plane turn into a sharp shriek as it cuts across the skies.

Well, I should be sitting where I can feel the salt air and listen to rolling waves while writing this, but the past week was spent nursing the ever-potent seasonal virus. Of course, and the usual fending off medicine-induced grogginess with (lots of) Hemingway and exploration of watercolour painting. One other consolation would definitely be that mes parents had hooked up the monitor to my laptop, so I don't have to squint at them tiny letters anymore. Hurray, I even have a proper workstation!!

The previous two Saturdays went beautifully; both filled with happy memories of school.

On the Saturday before the last, I remember the stars coming out early in the balmy evening. Going back for PL Musical 2012 feels like a homecoming of sorts, retracing the route I took to school every morning, oxfords scraping the uneven tarmac now, instead of those starched white shoes we obsessed over maintaining pristine white. How moving, to be back to my alma mater with my cherished friends, watching the girls sing and act their souls out. The musical was absolutely wonderful, not only because of the superb script that was so cleverly crafted, and the touching songs and awesome performance put up by the girls (and the best cameo by our ever-sporting current Principal as Little Butterfly of the East, providing much comic relief) , but rather, it was the raw intensity of the effort each and every one involved in the musical had poured into making it happen, coming full circle. That energy, creativity and dedication of students and teachers which reverberated throughout the concert hall that night had pulled me back to a time I remembered sharing the same hopes and aspirations as others standing on the same stage. There was so much to give thanks for, in that instant I realised - we are so, so blessed.

An old friend is soon to be wedded. A couple of us spent last Saturday at her place, pasting invites for 500. After an amazing lunch she cooked up for us, we'd gotten down to "work" almost immediately, all the while exclaiming how surreal it felt to be sticking paper to cardboard - not for Art & Craft lessons so many years ago, but for someone's wedding. When we were done, we'd all gathered around the piano in the hall while our default pianist played the hymns and songs we sung so many years ago, so many times. Their lyrics etched into our hearts, once again revisited that afternoon, had brought about a new form of revelation. While we all loved to reminisce the times we spent together in the past and feel the familiar warm, fuzzy memories rock us steadily in its embrace, whispering "all is safe, my child", I can't help but wonder - were we much happier in the past? Why does it seem that we are all so ready to let our souls jump out of our skins and go back to the times that become clearer with each and every hymn and song we sing?

Maybe, it was because we were all together - then and now. I was 15; carefree and daring again.

We are all but connected by a delicate thread of the past that held us together until today. The hymns and songs of thanksgiving went on and on that day, while I silently sent everyone some love and gave thanks to God who placed us where it all started - our beautiful alma mater.

Summer; Reinvigorated

{Image via Tumblr}

We are part-way through summer right now, and again, in this part of the world where I am - the seasons transit unnoticed, the only giveaway would be temperatures turning into popsicle-melting monsters threatening to turn those popsicles you just pulled out of the ice box into a watery mess.

I wish I could say the only giveaway for the season's transit would be seeing happy, laughing families cooling down by the beach, but sadly, I had not the time to be by the saltwaters myself. The previous months had seen me having only enough words to fill up CVs and answer the obligatory interview questions, and not much left in my creative brewery to thread up beautiful sentences.

With mon frère away in Yale, having the time of his life and the best summer adventures, the mornings here in Hot and Sunny island had never been quieter. Lately, I've been thinking about the adventures we had as young children. We'd race each other to the book store to be first to open those heavy glass doors to feel the cold air wash over us like a wave (think about how it feels when you open your ice box on a humid afternoon); chasing the tides in our bathing suits trying not to get them wet; cycling down the corridor at gram's with the neighbours' kids - all the while yelling and pedalling backwards like circus clowns.

We all need adventures in our lives, and this is the time I'm realising that I'm missing some; needing some new ones in my life. Along with a pretty new bathing suit to chase the tides in.

Do you have anything planned for summer? Visiting long lost friends? Vacation to a new place? Trying out something new? Cooking lessons, watercolour painting, electric guitar, kite-flying? Whatever it is, I hope you're rejuvenated; reinvigorated through the adventures you're having.

P.S. For this afternoon, part of my summer adventures include keeping away medicine-induced grogginess by downing a half-pack of cheezels, then collapsing flat on the recliner couch, hearing the workmen outside felling trees, and keeping my eyes in the skies, waiting for the eagles to come home.

Auld Lang Syne

(Image via Pinterest )

At the altar, last communion for the year passed, hope for the year apporaching hung like a veil in the air. We lift the cup and the bread to our lips, prayed in silence; every single one of us knelt by the altar connected by a delicate silver thread of faith. For 2012, for those we loved and who loved us, for parents, siblings, friends and lovers - we reflect; we keep watch; we start right.

Bless you and your loved ones, and as the Scots poem goes, for Auld Lang Syne.

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Fairy Lights and a Happy December

We are almost halfway into the month of December and it's been a good start to the season so far. As the year draws to a close, the days seem to bleed into the next, making time pass twice as quickly. While we start to (or have already started) the holiday gift-grabbing spree, here are ten ways why it's begining to feel like Christmas already:

1) The malls are draped gloriously in Christmas ornaments matching their December splendour; the window displays resemble a scene out of "A Christmas Carol" and I almost find myself tasting snowflakes.

2) Mom put the usual Christmas CD on loop early in the morning, so we get to hear cheerful carols all day long. Boomer radio online has a great selection of Christmas music, which is all I listen to currently and recently every time I am on the computer. My personal favourites include Baby, It's Cold Outside and Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. Last Christmas by Wham! brings back fond memories of my sweet 16.

3)

We're not having a tree at home this year. Inspired by fairy lights here, we'd broke out the Christmas decorations, stringed white fairy lights in the living room and filled a clear vase with fuschia and silver baubles and golden pinecones to use as a centrepiece for the dining table. The pair of reindeers were actually bought from Daiso @ Plaza Singapura for an amazing SGD2.00 each.

4)

The BFF returns from down-under for this season of cheer (as with all past years), of course, we had to go out on a little Korean food date and some Asian desserts! The little darling turned finally turned 21 this year, so this will be her first Christmas as an adult!

5)

There are more reasons to pick a day out of our busy schedules, save it for that special dinner date with the girls. There's something strangely exhilarating about writing that appointment in your trusty ol' appointment booklet from last Christmas. Friday's cosy dinner gathering: pasta at Arbite and durian mousse at Dessert Bowl. Seems like the good old days again.

6)

This year's Christmas presents came in early. Don't we all just love thoughtful gifts?

7) Starting on Le Projet, making mistakes along the way, and finally deciding to unravel hours of my hard (and heart) work to start all over again. Talk about perfecting that first handmade knit.

8) My fingers sting as though I've just made a pomander ball, but in fact, it was because of Le Projet. Something which involves aching arms, superb concentration, christmas carols and maybe a cup (or two) of coffee.

9) Picking out holiday cookie recipes here , and the best ways to package them here .

10)

And of course, we'd celebrated l'anniversaire de mariage de mes parents with some fast, fancy and romantic dessert: Molten chocolate lava cake fresh from the home oven (recipe here).

I'm sure we're all ready for Christmas, nést-ce pas?

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Tonight We Talked about Orion

{Image via GeekMom}

The nights are getting shorter and more chilly as we advance into the last dregs of November. Friday evening, a few friends and I had come together for a late Thanksgiving gathering of sorts at a girlfriend's place, and I find it particularly bittersweet. Like salted caramel.

There is a pool right in the center of my friend's estate, which we all took off for a dip before dinner. In this crazy cold weather, we were probably the only ones there, aside from a father teaching his child how to swim at the far shallow end. We swam for a while, back and forth; one following another. One lap, two laps. Someone coughed, we laughed at one another's wrinkled fingers from staying in the water for too long and gathered by the edge of the pool when another pointed out that we could see the neighbours' Christmas lights from where we were. There is suddenly so much to find beautiful in that brief moment; the lights twinkled and the waters slushed softly against our skin and the edges of the pool. Someone realised the red clouds foretelling rain has dispersed a little in the evening sky, allowing the few stars which were visible to us living in this part of the Earth to peek through. I wondered which were stars, which were satellites, whilst our resident astronomy expert pointed out Jupiter. The planet was blazing in the sky that night.

After a satiating dinner and the ultimate bimbotic crisis (someone broke her nails), the lights went off as the surprise cake and candle emerged from the kitchen. They'd used the stove to light the candle because they couldn't find a lighter and I would probably smile every time I think about it. I realised how much we loved surprises - I'd baked for them that afternoon, too. When I closed my eyes to make a wish, I quietly sent them some love. Over the years, so many had gone, but them who remained were constant. They'd seen me transit from a girl to a young woman; now, 2 amongst us have gotten engaged.

A little before midnight, a few of us had looked out from the apartment balcony and tried to identify the winter constellations. Our resident astronomy expert, Jas, traced Orion with her fingers, smiled her little secret smile and said to me that the stars only seem to be moving across the skies due to the Earth's latitudes, Orion will still look like Orion even if it may not be in the same place the next day when we are looking up into the same horizon, because the patterns of the stars never change.

They still exist, just like those who had gone before and always loved us.