I’ve been drawn again (Re: March 4th and March 14th 2003 entries). This time by my professor’s li’ll daughter Michelle. A few of us were at his office for our group presentation discussion last Friday. Li’ll Michelle was there. I watched her and was reminded of how I used to visit my father at his school office all the time. And the other teachers and their students would be coming in and out, and they would all seem so big, and old. And I’ll be doing the same thing, existing in my little world, drawing on any random sheet of paper, busying myself around the office: random make-believing, reading, playing…all the things that kids should be doing and should be allowed all the freedom and time in the world to do.

While we were holding our discussion, Michelle started to draw. She showed it to her father who asked her who it was and she pointed to me. I think it was by default. The other girls in the room had their hair tied up or had really straight hair.

She later gave me her portrait with my and her name on it. I’m not usually one who’d go "oh, you’re so cute, such a li’ll darling" to every kid I see. I mean I do think that kids have that inherent beautiful innocence. But I have no tolerence for all kids all the time. Like pets/animals, they aren’t all cute. And I’m one of those who readily believes a lot of kids are annoying brats (fault of parents, not their own), and often have no patience for those who are. But this thing made my heard melt. She tapped into my narcissistic soul. AND she gave me prettier eyes.

The best thing about this story is that we got back our 2nd midterm today and this was on the back of my blue book (exam book):

At the bottom, Ken (my professor) scribbed "Unfailing excellence!". That made my day. No doubt.

My weekend in a nutshell: Study, party, sunrise, study, party, sunrise, study, tv, sleep.

Got a ton of work out of the way before Keyatta’s birthday party on Friday night. The party was swinging. Great music, great company.

Keyatta (back facing camera) got a sultry birthday song out of Natalie, who performed "Happy Birthday, Mrs President" for our diva:

Patrick, Chris, and Eric, our pretty boys. Scary thing is that they look hotter in real life. Damn. Pat and Eric are junior high school teachers…I don’t remember -my- secondary school teachers looking like that in Singapore…

Natalie and Eric doing that whole "You’re hot" "No, -you’re- hot" "No, you’re hot…" routine.

Pat showing Kim (R) and I (L) some good lovin’…

Chris showing Pat some good lovin’…

The after-party at Chris and Doug’s apartment kept us swinging it till sunrise. When we drove away from the party, we caught this fabulous view:

I was a good girl on Saturday afternoon. We returned to Chris and Doug’s. I brought my laptop and Lee Kuan Yew memoirs to get some of my paper done, while the rest enviably kicked back, chilled, napped and watched tv outside. Bah. Priorities. Hate ‘em.

But Saturday night was a different story. By midnight, we were raving at 1015 where Deep Dish rocked us all night. By the time we left the club, and got some yummy post-party pizza in our tummies, the sun crept out at us for the 2nd time. I didn’t bring my camera this time.

Sunday, party-Kelly turned into nerd-Kelly once again. This time, we headed over to Natalie’s place in Oakland. While I slaved over my paper at this pretty lovely corner…

…the guys slaved over the BBQ and the kitchen…I like the colors in this house.

After the awesome dinner, we kicked back and watched an hour of the Simpsons and Princess Mononoke. I took a photo of this trippy glow from the heater and the tv from where I was sitting:

Glorious weekend…again. It sure does make friggin’ Monday harder to return to. Thank god for Wednesday Qool parties…the upcoming weekend getaway to Santa Barbara. Damn, I am a lucky fucker, aren’t I?

And I forgot to mention:

The birthday dinner was held at Doug’s (who shared the same birthday as me) place in Nob Hill. Parking as usual was impossible. So we pulled up into the apartment’s driveway and left a message for the landlord which Patrick assured me was common practice for them. When we left, there was a friggin’ SFPD parking ticket on my window shield. There was a slight commotion of "what the fuck? They can’t give us a ticket! Yes they can, we’re parked in a friggin’ driveway! No but I’ve done this many times before…" until Patrick read the ticket carefully and laughed out loud. The ticket on my -red- Nissan read:

License plate number: 3WEF833
Make: Nissan
Model: Sentra
Color: Yellow
Body: Hard
Year: ‘69
Violation: For being a roughneck

Punks! The ticket looked completely authentic too! Both front and back was printed on the original silky plastic-y paper. Wonder where they got it.

My 22nd birthday is turning out to be one of the best birthdays I’ve had in recent years.

I had my 1st birthday blow-candles cake with my darling brother on Sunday.
I have the coolest gift from the coolest friend that I went on a li’ll adventure to pick up yesterday.
I had my 2nd birthday blow-candles cake with a bunch of great people last night.
I will be whisked away on a belated weekend getaway next weekend to Santa Barbara.

Me happy. Very.

I have a few minutes left to being a 21 year-old. There was something fun about saying "I’m 21". (You either get the wink-wink-raised-eyebrows or the cradle-snatcher-baulking.) There’s that whole element of girl coming into womanhood, maturing yet not quite, sprinkle of girl-gone-wild propensities, the social passport to occassionally succumb to those propensities, the excuse to be frivolous, youth, youth, youth, merriment, energy, sparkle, life, joy, newness, novelties.

And then there’s 22 after that. You step into your twenties for sure, no hmms-wells-buts about that. I’m at the age where all the new celebrities are younger than me. I’m supposed to be worried about wrinkles, cellulite, and whatever skin conditions people get when they get older. Given that I have -zero- beauty regime discipline, I am supposed to be worried. I use the same bar of Dial soap (oh that miracle cleaner! None of that icky moisturizer filmy after-feel where I have to rinse and rinse and never seem to be able to get rid of that film) for my face and body. I slap on the same moisturizer (Jergen’s) all over and that’s all I’m prepared to do. I’ve tried…I’ve tried to do that cleanse, tone, moisturize, eye-cream, hand cream, body cream, hair conditioner, leave-in conditioner, blow drying, hair straightening, hair curling, volumizers, hair serums, manicure routines. But I decided to stop trying because I just can’t be bothered. It always falls back into just that one bar of Dial soap one bottle of shampoo (no conditioner) and one bottle of moisturizer for me. It seems to work now. "But of course" older-than-21-year-olds scoff bitterly. "You are 21. You get away with anything." So do I have to slip into high-maintenance gear now and gather together necessary pre-emptive creams and lotions?

Screw what I’m supposed to do or feel, all that bullshit. I actually do look forward to turning 22: having less of ‘Emma’ slip ups (Re: Saturday), having more experiences, being more experienced. And getting closer to the age-group 35-40 where I’m supposed to hit my sexual peak. Bring it on!

Sunday night, I met my dear brother at the Palo Alto Straits Cafe (where my bro works part-time) for dinner. It was cute seeing how popular my brother is with his co-workers. I’m not surprised. He’s the most likeable person ever. Like a cute teddy bear everyone loves. We had SO much food! Satay, roti prata, black pepper crab, salmon ‘otah’ and 2 servings of samosa (the 2nd one came free cos his Mexican buddies in the kitchen wanted to take a picture with me later. Nyuk nyuk.).

Best part was at the end of the meal, my brother brought out 2 mini-chocolate cakes with CANDLES on ‘em! I’ve not had a blow-candles-birthday-cake since I left for Berkeley 2 years ago, before which my mummy never failed to get me a cake, put candles on them and made sure I got sung a birthday song (even if it was only her and me in the kitchen at midnight) and had that whole blowing out candles thing. It was so cool! I was grinning like a kid.

God, we look so genetically linked! The waiter who snapped the picture told us to say "TWINS!".

I think I clapped my hands like a li’ll girl as they sang me a birthday song. I felt like a kid again. I’ll probably talk about my feelings toward turning 22 on the 22nd (I’m no longer twenty-one, it’s downhill from now. Although Douglas assures me my best is yet to come. I hope.) later. For now, for that night, I was joyful as hell.

My brother is COOL! =)

Not only that, I received the cutest card from my parents in Singapore:

My parents are COOL! =)

My mom said the drawing reminded her of how I used to draw as a li’ll girl. The card had cute sparkly glitter things on them too.

I’ve hardly ever been a girly type of girl. My parents never treated me like one: they didn’t tolerate any smidgen of vanity (no long hair, no frills, no pretty stuff) from me as a kid; never spoiled me; was always harsh. (Thank god for their sensibility). But I feel treated like a li’ll girly princess now. And it’s cute. I shall relish in it for a while. After all, I do have the "best blessings of existence"

My first time celebrating Easter Sunday! Patrick’s sister Natalie performed at her dad’s church in San Jose, hence a bunch of us went down to spend Easter Sunday together.

The church service was entertaining. My disbelieving-ass is not a church-goer at all but I didn’t mind this one: one of those non-denominational church that was not preachy nor proselytizing at all. They even had songs from e.g. ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’. Traditional Christians would have baulked. I liked it.

Here’s Natalie (far left) singing her heart out:

Here’s her amused but very proud brother watching her on:

Here’s a group shot after the service: (L-R) Chris, Pat (still glowing red from his snowboarding sunburn), Doug and the 2 Natalies in front.

Here’re the C.dines("The concentration of C.dines! Watch out!")
Here’s me and Amin showing what Scott McKenzie meant. We were given free carnations. Amin kept his flower on the whole day till after lunch. He’s hilarious:

Here’s everyone post-church, sin-less and sober!

Thus getting introspective stuff out of the way, my weekend was remarkable as usual. After arriving back to Berkeley from Tahoe on Friday night, I attended Chris’ surprise birthday party a gorgeous warm Saturday afternoon. Once again, I’m glad I brought my Kelph with me because these pictures captured the warm lovely atmosphere of that party perfectly. I must say that this Canon digital elph s330 is marvelous with bright, day-time colors…and lots of bright, day-time colors there were!

So it was Chris’ surprise birthday party that his girlfriend Natalie organized. It was a success. There was the whole yelling "surprise!" and everything. And no, he did not expect this and yes, he was surprised.

Inside later, Chris is thanking someone for a gift. That’s his girlfriend Natalie, the hostess with the mostess. She taught in Southeast Asia for a few years and spent 2 months in Singapore. Cool chick!

It was a great party. The weather was awesome and the company was just so lovely. I like this shot that someone took of me from afar. I like the whole candid context of it, with all these people around and me in the background yet centered in the picture. I don’t know what I was squinting at, but I somehow look content as I felt.

It was certainly an eclectic crowd. You can’t miss the dude in the big orange hat and snake. There was a dj booth. People talking, chilling…

I asked to take a picture of her t-shirt that’s advertising a sushi restaurant and the line in front says "Your fish smells like pussy". She posed as such:

And of course, pics of cute kids never turn out badly

Here’s the birthday cake:

Here’s some of that birthday cake on Natalie’s face:

I like these aerial views I took. One candid that turned out looking like an S-shape creation.

And here’s the whole happy crowd!

Stupendous Saturday. When Eric, Patrick and I left for the Canvas Gallery at 11pm, the party was still swinging.

Still have TONS to write about this weekend. But before I make a list of events, I’d like to do myself a favor by writing about thoughts that hit me hard on Saturday night.

(Disclaimer: I am aware that I’m Austenizing my life right now. That whole thing about supplying my "memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of (my) eventful" life. (Jane Austen ‘Northanger Abbey’) is too temptingly applicable to be unapplied. Recent events and thoughts and feelings just invoke Jane Austen lines that suit my life right now.)

I love Austen’s ‘Emma’ like hell for the narcissistic fact that I identify myself with deeply with Emma. The novel begins with the line
"Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her."
No doubt, I’m no supermodel (who is?), but no one’s called me ugly (well, not since I got contacts and took out my braces anyway). I’m no Tolstoy, but I’m not a dumb-ass. My family’s definitely not rich, but I’ve been so well provided for. Oh, and I’m nearly (a day away) twenty-two. But like Emma, I’m enviably blessed as hell and I know so and appreciate so every single day.
Problem with having these fortunes is, like Emma, I need a good swift kick in the ass once in a while to take me down a peg or two, or to strip me of any self-deception. I’m a deep believer that the want to constantly search for self-awareness a great gift because self-deception is evil, and a pervasive evil too. Says Jane Austen in ‘Emma’: "Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken" I’m constantly checking myself to get ride of any bullshit that I’m doing to myself, but there’s only so much self-introspection can expose sometimes. And thankfully, I’ve great great people in my life, parents, brother, uncle, a couple of friends, that love me enough to take me down every once in a while and I’m so grateful for them.

The circumstances of Saturday night will remain private. But I’ve known for a very long time that my ‘Emma’ revelation was impending. It was a great time while self-denial held on; but having read ‘Emma’ I knew that it was sooner or later that an event, someone, or someones would come along, whack some sense into me and shook some discipline in me. And it did. And it was a moment (and I hate to use this analogy) not unlike when people break down on Oprah/Dr Phil after having Oprah/Dr Phil reveal to them what they already had an inkling of. I bawled like a fuckin’ baby on Saturday night. But it was my humbling moment. And I appreciated the hell out of it. And I believed even more that night that I possess "the best blessings of existence" just by opportunities to have just the most wonderful people impacting my life.

Before I warble into mawkish prose as I’m capable of, I whipped out ‘Emma’ and re-read the last chapters of the novel. I don’t know why I do that. Maybe it’s a comfort to have your personal experiences spelt out for you in such universally applicable and gorgeous words. Obviously, Emma’s circumstance differ (I did not try to matchmake a Harriet to a dude that was wrong for her); but her feelings are eeriely specifically applicable. This is what struck me:

"Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like her’s, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress.
…Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed her before. How improperly had she been acting…How inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational had been her conduct!…It struck her with a dreadful force and she was ready to give it every bad name in the world…How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had been thus practising on herself, and living under! The blunders, the blindness of her own head and heart!…
…(said Emma) ‘I have very little to say for my own conduct…An old story, probably–a common case–and no more than has happened to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more exusable in one who sets up as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation…"

So I’d rather not have used so many dramatic exclamation points, and less lah-di-dah words like "dreadful" to describe how I felt. But you get the point.

And because I’m the fortunate, blessed bitch that I am, still the young idealistic chick like Emma, I still identify with the following, that still implies the propensity for "superior airs" that therefore calls for more of these humbling moments:

"…the only source whence any thing like consolation or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it would yet find her more rational more acquainted with herself and leave her less to regret when it were gone."

At the end of it all, I have a new appreciation for my own life. And the people around me. These wonderful wonderful people without whom I’d be so much less. See, I’m getting teary eyed and falling into eye-rolling cliches already. Throw in this Everything But the Girl mix of Mary Margeret O’Hara’s ‘To Cry About’ and you got yourself ultimate sentimental cheese. But it’s my blog. And I feel sentimental if I want to.

Have TONS to write about this weekend. But first priority:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Mummy!

As is very obvious, I’ve the coolest mummy in the world. Refer to April 14 and 15 posts for evidence.

At this time, around 540am here and 940pm in Singapore, it’s my Mummy’s Birthday.

=)