Butterfly Effect

Do you get butterflies when you speak in public? I give lectures for a living and as ironic as this may seem, I certainly do get them. This usually happens at the dawn of each semester. I’m at my fifth year of teaching; yet I get the flutters all the same. Nonetheless, I’m glad that my first class of this cycle went fine today. The rest should now be a walk in the park. Having released all those “butterflies,” I’m now going to close the night with a bowl of macaroni and cheese and this Woody Allen movie.

Tangled, Pretzled

Learning to navigate Prezi today. The mechanics are slightly tougher than expected. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on mastering Prezi. I believe I’ll get used to the platform one day. Baby steps, baby.

To Love With Love

A big thank you to my half for this one last birthday gift— a cake-holding bear made out of crystal. This adorable teddy is meant for Aquarians like me, and now sits on my bedside ladder. He reminds me of how loved I am every day.

The Sweetest Things

My baby sister, who's a makeup artist, gave me this foundation set from Benefit. I've always loved their retro-inspired packaging and witty copies. They double as home décor in my books. My ma went back to her hometown recently and came back with these stylish boots meant for me. She has great taste in shoes. I am soled. A Nora Ephron book about aging is perfect for all the ladies celebrating their birthdays. Having said so, I bought this for myself. That's just my sense of humor talking.

Birthday Night

One of my family’s traditions for birthdays is to hold a dinner gathering with our partners invited. I had mine at Latest Recipe, a fancy hotel resto with my ma, sister, her man and my better half (who “serendipitiously” as he called it, wore baby blue tie that matched the blouse I was wearing). That moment was my favorite. We had lively conversations at the dinner table over good food (the teriyaki meat was, to say the least, divine). I look forward to being a year older and spending more good times like this with those I love. 

The Particular Happiness of a Birthday Cake

I’m proud to have baked my own birthday cake this year. It feels very grown-up to have done so. I call it the Betty Crockeresque rite of passage to being autonomous. The homemade cake bowled over my family the most. For a hint of variation, I put in chunks of pineapples into the batter alongside the carrots. While I usually enjoy the cake with good old whipped crème, I chose buttersweet frosting instead for a more traditional vibe. The sugar melted deliciously into the warm crevices of the cake. It was rich, tart and slightly nutty from the carrots. Above all, it tasted good. The candles were the only ones missing, really. I didn’t miss those much though. After all, twenty eight candles are a bit too many to blow ;)

Twenty Eighth Year

Salmon Pink

I’ve had a lifelong affair with salmon. I first tasted the fish when I was living in London as a child. It was a smoked salmon sandwich with a thick slice of cheddar to savor with. As I bit into the sandwich, I imagined the salmon as ham. Both share that same intense pinkness. I was the only child in school who practiced eating kosher. The rest brought their ham sandwiches for lunch. So I guess that explains the odd imagining. That was almost twenty years ago. I remember the story perfectly as I prepared dinner on the eve of my birthday. I had fresh salmon chunks with me in the kitchen. I whipped up my very first pan-fried salmon with lemon parsley sauce. Did I mention that I wore my pearls and little black dress as I chop and fry? I succeeded with the apron as my witness. I invited my half over for dinner and our night looked like this. Nothing tastes better than adulthood.

The Art of Persuasion

Make eye contact from afar. Strut modestly. Stand close. Keep paws off for now. Be quiet. Just blink. Persevere for a few minutes. Look up. Make eye contact again. Enlarge pupils (practice makes perfect). Mew gently. Blink blink. Expect to hear “awhh.” There it is. Don't get excited just yet. Remain modest. Wait for it. Look out for that hand. A signal. Now go. Get fur stroked. Raise chin to be scratched. Remember to purr. Enjoy this. Give a friendly bite. Be gentle always. Hear more “awhhs”. Close enough. See that piece of fish now. Stay on the fish. Stray from looking too eager. Eye on the fish. Don't jump. Gravity will pull the fish. There. Savor it. Nothing else tastes better. Leave the bones behind. Lick paws. Walk away.

I learnt a lot from this cat today.

Cloudy with a Chance of Lightness

The clouds appeared grim today and the skies seemed about to open up. But then I noticed light streaming through the vapors. Such beauty was remarkable. I reckon cloud watching as the best “music” to unwind to.

Kitchen Love

At seventy-five, my grandma is still a one fine trouper. Today I caught her scrubbing and arranging in my ma’s kitchen. When I offered help, she testily refused and said she could manage (such a “grandmother” thing to do). I just stood in the kitchen, admiring her labor. The space was spick and span. Every single jar, bottle, plate and shaker was in order. And we all had grandma to thank for, as she did all that out of love (and perhaps, out of a little ennui too).

The Umbrellas of PJ

Today I'm just glad that I reached home in time before the rain fell. The rest of the world held up their colorful umbrellas and marched on.

My Grandmother's Antic

My grandma has been staying at my ma's place for the past couple of weeks. She lives in Johore, but she often takes a train ride to Kuala Lumpur so that she could visit us. I’ve been visiting her at home every weekend, and her presence has brought more jouissance in the house. We just love watching her dramatizing each memory that she recollects from her distant past (she’s a natural thespian). She also tends the garden very well, and insists upon cooking every single meal for us. I’m grateful for every moment I get to see her and listen to her stories.

Hoard Station

I'm grateful to have found all those readings as prescribed by my professors in graduate school. I'm in dire need of texts by Braudillard, Barthes, Bordieu, Benjamin, Freud, Jameson, Sontag and...well, I could go on forever. They're what I need to prepare for another trip to the ivory tower soon.

PS I found this poem, an abcedarian, that I wrote in my college poetry workshop. This makes no sense today but it sure rolls nicely on the tongue when recited. Try it.

Ég Elska Hann

My half visited me at home this morning in a trench coat. He reminds me of Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything, minus the boombox. He's the kind that would make sure you don't step on any broken glass. And the best part? My Lloyd is far from fictional. 

Housecall