When I was just a little girl, I used to listen to tales related by my young working aunts about how cranky their housemates were and how they seem to create a living hell out of their apartment. As an attentive and inquisitive audience I will “Ohh” and “Ahh” and shriek at the correct places so that I can squeeze more gossip from my aunts. Little do I know that after almost three years living away from home had I accumulated stories about those people that I had lived with and started to tell them to my aunt. (She lives in her own house now so no gossip exchange)I despised backstabbing as rule, so openly gossiping about others is an uncomfortable activity to me, unless I am very sure that the person I backstabbed will no stab me back on the front. However, sometimes when the woman instincts got hold of me, I will unwittingly trade a secret or two. Now what I am going to say next is, I am not going to refer to any names and for those who had stayed with me or are still staying with me, please do not feel offended unless you are the one who did it.

I spent my first two years in a dorm-like apartment with cleaning services and security systems and you can guess there is a minimum amount of squabbles about which idiot’s turn is it to clean the toilet or mop the floor and which bastard left the backdoor open. Quite the contrary, actually, for the first year we have a garbage routine and it doesn’t seemed as if everyone was keen on doing it, leaving the house with garbage stench and fat maggots crawling all over. By the second year, a small change of tenants causes the abolishment of big dustbins and everyone threw their own rubbish.

Rubbish aside, life in the apartment is quite good, albeit crowded. Four rooms and nine occupants called for extreme resource sharing policy (two toilets, laundry space, study space, etc) but we managed to get along happily somehow. That is, until of my housemate left and another person came in her place. Sorry for being mean, but this person is more towards the eccentric side of humanity. She has the tendency to hammer the wall with her fist all of a sudden (we suspected that she had some stress related crisis), scaring her roommates away from the room. She was a hardworking person, studying most of the time in the living room, making full use of all the tables in the living room. (There were two). She had all the things on the table, effectively preventing anyone the utilization any of those tables. Sometimes we found her verbally and physically abusing her textbooks during her studying sessions. Too stressed up, I supposed. To top that off, she liked to sing. Well, its not exactly a sin to sing, but to sing hymns loudly and emotionally while studying is, to put it mildly, not so appropriate. Well, she had quite a number of embarrassing stories, but we will not delve deeper than this.

Apart from some mismatched housemates, we pretty much do everything that housemates normally did - cooked dinners, went shopping, movies, mamak stalls and stuffs like that. We were a crazy bunch, screaming at the top of our lungs at 3 am, eating BBQ pork rice for supper, cried because of maggots, shared stuffs, traded gossips and supported each other. To me, I guessed that living under one roof entitles us to be close naturally, as we see each other day in, day out. However, it is sad to hear that we clash with our housemates sometimes, and the situation worsens when they gang-up to sabotage you.

No man is an island, especially when it comes to friends that lives with you, being isolated by them is as if an island shore being swept by waves repeatedly - total isolation and nowhere to turn to. It is sad but true, sometimes it is better to have friends and meet with them occasionally, rather than living together with them. Sometimes, they might be offended by the things that you do without you knowing them, or perhaps sometimes its not your fault at all but they have decided that they dislike you all the same.

To think back, I was very happy to have moved into my current house. I was having some initial doubts back then, due to the fact that I did not know any of my housemates beforehand. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise as we were accustomed to each other’s daily routines before we actually become friends, and it is hard to say that I can find something they did that really irks me off because I already knew them by the way they handle their life and not by some chatting over the mamak stalls nor by stringing some conversations in class. Plus, the size of the house and scarcity of the tenants (6 people in a double storey semi detached house) is an added advantage that ensures us with sufficient space and privacy.

To end a long story short, I supposed that sharing a house with others are a sort of gamble, you do not know whether or not you will win their hearts or lose them. However, I am sure that, if I am unhappy with it I will leave for better, as I prefer to be alone rather than being constantly unhappy.

It was all silent except for the gentle pitter patter of raindrops hitting the rooftop. The Bear Hill in the horizon is more visible than a few days back, indicating that the rain had somewhat washed away some of the residues that had caused the smog. Indoors, dull television program flickers with static while the occupants were sound asleep, oblivious of the real world, drowned in their world of dreams despite the fact that it was 5 in the evening.

In these days when even nightfall had an unusually high temperature surrounding, comfortable sleep is hard to come by, unless with the help of air conditioner, which is something not possible at the moment. Many a night had I woken from restless sleeps, with dampened hair clinging irritably to my sweaty neck and an uncomfortably parched mouth.

The night air was stiflingly hot even when the windows were wide open. Many a night had I spent tossing and turning on the bed, finally waking up to a lethargic day.The dry spells that had ignited the forest burning had also ignited our irritability in the same way. The warm, stifled air is not at all lung-friendly, as I find that I have to compensate the meagre oxygen content of the air with higher inhalation rate and shallower breath.

The usually hot afternoon sun had turn into a bleak orange ball thanks to the haze that had obscured the direct light from the solar rays. Bleak, yes, but lethal nonetheless. Standing under the sun is akin to frying the skin, causing itchy, invisible microorganism to run all over your skin in tiptoes, effectively torturing you until suffer the angst of sunburn and heat spells.

The worst part of the day was to rush to and from classes. Walking in the sun in for some time and going into one of those fully chilled lecture halls entitled the students to experience abrupt and rapid temperature change, causing head spins, severe headaches and numerous bodily discomforts which will eventually lead to heat related maladies and more visits to the doctor, to the dismay of the insurance company.

Yes, there is rain, but we need more, at least until I can clearly see Bear Hill’s panoramic view from my bedroom window again.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…

Yeah! I am twenty one today. The big “21″ which is linked to numerous eligibility in the laws of the country. Oh my God! That means I am fully responsible of all my actions and consequences.

Anyway, look at the bright side. This is something I had worked out yesterday.

*Fill in the blanks with appropriate answers.*

So I am 21 years old now. I can _____________ without my parent’s consent.

Suggested answers are:

• buy a house

• buy a car

• elope

• get married

• get pregnant

• get an abortion

• get divorced

• join a secret society

• DO ANYTHING

Not that I have the cash to spend on properties nor do I have the guts for a torrential relationship, but the idea here is absolute freedom. The moment when the institution recognizes you as an adult, you are free to do the things aforementioned even without the consent or knowledge of your parents. You can keep them in the dark, I supposed, or tell them just to freak them out. *teeheehee…*

Oh yeah. Now that I am 21, should I exercise my right as a citizen of a democratic country? Should I register and vote? Should I vote for the scale or the rocket? Or the moon? Heck! I couldn’t be bothered anyway. Politics ain’t my cuppa tea. Leave it aside and I will ponder on it when the time comes.

Now here comes the best part. This is my birthday (Labour Day, Wesak Day, Malacca Historical Day, Dumplings Festival, Mooncake Festival, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year) wishlist:

• PDA - After a person mentioned to me about how useful it is to me.

• Digital camera - Always wanted one.

• A pair of dumbbells, preferably colourful ones - 5 lbs or 8 lbs? If it is too light it is insufficient to provide resistance to the muscle, too heavy and it will strain the muscle.

• Some really nice books - History and philosophy are okays, romance is a big no-no.

• A nice pair of crisscross straps high heels - I am a size 3 1/2 - 4.

• A new pair of Nike sport shoes - I can never get enough of footwear.

-End of wishlist-

Last but not least, I would like to express my gratitude to my dearest parents for giving me life, love and nurture. Even though I am no longer a child, I believe that I will always be a little girl in their eyes. A very special thanks goes to my maternal grandmother for her infinite love, care and upbringing of me. May God bless her soul. Before I end my speech, I would also like to extend my gratitude for all those unsung heroes in my life. Without all of you, I will not be what I am today. Thank you.

p/s: Thank you so much for my darling housemates - Lissa, Hui Khoon, Sharon, Cathy and Jing for giving me a surprise birthday party! Thank you so much!

Thanks Mr. Postman!The mailman came and I found myself going through a stack of postbox materials. Phone bills, streamyx bills, Tesco discount leaflet and…a scarlet envelope. How extraordinary. Wedding invitation? Nah. Don’t know anyone who is gonna get married anyway. Curious, curious. I rarely get mails via the ordinary post, let alone such an extraordinarily coloured envelope containing a mysterious message.

Upon closer scrutiny, the envelope itself tells a personal touching story. The familiar handwriting was written by someone very close and very dear to me and this is one of the few precious times he actually got my name correct. Further inspection reveals that he paid twice the amount of stamps needed to post the letter to my place, altogether a telling tale that he seldom, if never used the postal service in the recent years.

The grand envelope bore a simpler, yet pristine white card. No glitters, no extravagant colours. It was meant to wish me “happy birthday” on my 21st birthday but the card arrived earlier than he had expected. A sudden warmth enveloped me and for once, I felt glad that he took the trouble to convey a simple message in such a meaningful way. The greeting in the card is a simple yet beautiful sentence.“Celebrate the beauty that is you”

He sealed the card with his signature, not bothering to pen down a name as if knowing well that I will recognize from who the card was. And I did. I just wanted to say thank you.

“Thanks, dad. I really appreciate it. Thank you for everything.”

… and land headfirst onto the concrete. An anvil came crashing down from the sky right after your fall and drop exactly on your head. And you will be dead. Brain juices everywhere. Mangled hair soaked in blood. Busybody passerby whispered excitedly.

“Tsk, tsk… so young…”

Melodramatic? I don’t think so. In fact, I have the feeling that it will look better than my exam result. Which is the sole reason as to why I had wanted to fling myself out of the window in the first place. Yep. That traumatic. I was trapped in the examination hall with an almost foreign question paper, scribbling what I knew and what I don’t know. Somewhat, somehow, I feel that I am a victim. The victim of the vicious exam who was trying to slay my sanity. Need explanation?Let us go through the beauty and the horror of this semester’s exam.

#1 Examination date

Four exams in one week after Chinese New Year. When did I study?
a. Before Chinese New Year.
b. During Chinese New Year.
c. After Chinese New Year.
d. A combination of all of the above.

Answer: d.
Look, what I studied before had trickled away during CNY. And I can’t study during CNY. Who in the sane mind would? Unless you are a non-Chinese or you have no life. However, four exams in a week is a total brain wreck. Which explains why I am getting insane. Also explains the demented urge to chop my notes in a food processor.

#2 Number of chapters

One week to finish all of them. You would:
a. Study a bit of this and a bit of that.
b. Go through all of them even if it means no sleep for you.
c. Study smart. Forecast question.
d. All of the above.

Answer: d.
I did all of them and I ended with two messed up exams. The problem lies between the forecast questions go astray and some important parts of the notes has been drenched by black coffee. Two more exams to go. Just hope that I won’t mess up with them as well.

#3 Extracurricular Activities

I can’t stay up all day and night study, isn’t it ? When I am not studying I am:
a. Blogging or reading blogs
b. Attend class
c. Etc, etc
d. A combination of all of the above.

Answer: d.
Hey, if I sit there studying just like how Bodhidharma sat in a cave and medidate for nine years I would have died of insanity. Or boredom. Or both. The key of a healthy life is a balance between work and play ok? However, my scale of work and play balance is always heavily tilted towards the play factor. Nothing to be proud of. Sigh.

If I screwed up the other two exams, somebody please prepare the anvil. No. Wait. Keep it until the finals. If I am ready to jump I will inform you.