Sunday, July 27
It’s been a wonderful few weekends, July is about to end and the moon cake festival is about to arrive.
I am 24 this year, but I still tell people I am 23 when asked. About time to update my habit, 23 is history.
So I went to the night festival with usual gang and new people. It was fantastic although a bit tiring, good thing is that my next day work is a noon shift.
I am very fascinated by the big man in the little house thingy, and I think I will have this new habit of showing the video of it I’ve taken to anyone who haven’t seen it.
The normal mostly white piece of building of antique-ness was brightened with changing colors, I felt like it was a dream. When looking at it, I just wished I had a bottle of something in my hands, something alcoholic, a bottle of beer with floral aromas or a glass of red that will make whatever that already dazzled me, fascinates me more.
I thought it would be really nice if there is no one else but our group of people there, outside the museum on the grass patch, with jazz playing in the back and a mat for us to sit on, no 6 legged freaks or crawlies around, with a rather big size tray where we place all our preferred choice of drinks on. Enjoy the wind, the jazz, and the pretty sight of castle in the air with lavender plants surrounding us. Not forgetting the big man little house right beside us so I can poke him with satay stick which I will get from parklane anytime I feel like it.
Inside the museum, many objects of not so past history displayed throughout the building that reminds us of how our parent’s or grand’s lifestyle used to be. We can even recognize some of those tools and remember using them before when we’re really young. Memories and flash backs flooded through my mind for a few seconds once every while when I come across something that looks familiar.
It’s a nostalgic trip, although not always in a good way. The catering flower imprinted metal containers that stack on top of each other. Those were used when I was in kindergarden, always going to my dad’s office after school in indo, and wait for lunch to arrive in those catering thingy. The bad part is, that is also the time where my mum would beat me up with those meter ruler until it breaks, and pull my ears etc, and drag me all the way to the toilet with me struggling and kicking all the way, and lock me in the toilet from outside, and switch off the lights. Leaving me in the dark and freaking out to death coz I thought a human-like non-human will climb out of the big water tank ( think Singapore don’t have those in toilets ).
The thing is, it is funny now that I think of it, was the lock installed from outside of the toilet door for the sole purpose of locking people like me up? I remember seeing that lock from my earliest memory. But is it really possible they installed a lock outside the toilet door as just one of the method to punish me??? If not, what is the lock there for?? But the toilet I was talking about was in the office building. Did they actually know that there will be a day that they will discipline me at my dad’s office and will lock me in the freaking toilet, I wonder.
Ok OOT already, but anyway, still, nostalgic.
After taking many pictures and checking out some interesting things, we head to coffee bean to rest our tortured feet. Talk about quite an amount of rubbish there and as everyone was on their way to stoney land, something interesting happened and thanks to one of the new people whose name sounds like “I don’t know”. Everyone broke into laughter and into tears, and those on their way to stoney land was brought back to lamerland, once again.
To think, not too long ago, we’re talking about how no one saw me laughing till I tear before or something? There you go.
They made a joke about how they should give everyone a packet of that poison during my funeral next time when I die. I was thinking, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all, you know, if anyone is to secretly be happy if I died, at least I can make them cry. And maybe I should put a list of people who I think will be happy if I died, on my will or something, of whom to give the most poison to. Must make them cry. Plus, in case no one actually cried, at least those poisons will make it look like an important person had died. So smart of me, yet it kind of felt a little morbid.
