The lights and sounds were never ceasing, pulsing to each of their own rhythms, creating one large masterpiece that may sound like a mix of just miscellaneous noises, but to anyone who truly appreciated human nature, would sound like a composition done by Mozart or Bach themselves. I wanted to twirl in the middle of it all. Dance and jump, skip to my own heartbeat. It made my blood pump faster just looking at the buzz of it all. The zing in the atmosphere never seemed to have an end.

My father and my brother decided to take a little detour and find some fruit and flowers. The flowers, specifically jasmine, are for my mom, my sister, and I to wear in our hair. I still have to figure out the reason for that in our religion so I’ll definitely get back to you guys on that. Sorry for leaving you hanging. My mom, pushing my little sister’s stroller spotted a little shop that was selling bangles and other types of Indian style jewelry, as well as pottus. And if you don’t know what those are, they are basically these dots that women wear on their foreheads. I’m sure you already know what I am getting at here, but my mom always tells me( every time I ask )that the reason it should be placed on our foreheads is because the space between our eyebrows is basically a pressure point for your entire face. I still am doing my own little research on the science behind that so I’ll get back to you guys on that too.

Anyway, my mom said that I can pick three packs of whichever ones I liked, and I honestly didn’t know what to choose. It was a whole wall of little white plastic packages, each sporting their different version or variety of the little trademark dots. I finally decided on these little ones that were all different pale, pastel colors. Thinking I could use them for Halloween or something. I also got a plain regular set, which is basically just the regular old maroon on black, felt circle sticker. My mom already had made her selections so she moved on to the massive crates of glass bangles. A young man and a woman were helping her too. So I followed suit.

I admit, It was kind of awkward when they all turned to me expectantly with these knowing looks in their eyes. I guess they might’ve thought I was the flamboyant type of girl who would be fine flaunting a chunk of glass with glitter on it. They presented me with a white, plastic basket with a spread of colorful glittering bangles that I knew i would be able to break just by looking at them. They were really pretty and looked even more delicate with the shop lights shining on the ceiling opposite of us, making the glitter pop and really catch your attention. But I took a long shot and slowing walked to the spread my mom was looking at before I came along. The shopkeepers asked what colors I like and obviously I said green and blue. They each came up to me with at least a dozen different bangles with various hues of greens and blues. Cerulean, turquoise, I decided on a simple set of bangles that was a mix of both colors. My mom chose a deep red.

We made our purchases and thanked the kindly shopkeepers, turning our bodies back towards the street. My dad and my brother were waiting, my father had a green plastic bag in hand pluming with flowers and fruit to my delight. We decided to walk back to the apartment before it got to late out. But my dad picked up some Idlys for Jagan Mama since we had already eaten at the temple. Plus Bala thatha said he wanted to meet up with us back at the apartment anyway so we kinda had to get a move on.

Singapore was still lively as ever, even late into the night. A spark was lit at Evey part, every corner, ever edge you could see. Everything was so alive. It tingled and pulsed, a slight breeze even. Something rare in Singapore in my opinion. Goosebumps were sent across my skin from each shallow gust. The scene itself reminded me of a song I listen to a lot. The lyrics ran through my head as we all walked along, my sister in my mother’s arms. My brother in step with my father. The song absconded in my mind with each step I took. It happens all the time every time I’m truly absorbed into my surroundings; My conscious is singing, belting out the lyrics. And it’s especially hard to keep quiet. My head started to play the song, the rhythm in time with my steps.

We reached the apartment,  and got into the lift, it felt warm and the air was moist compared to fresh air from outside. My thighs felt sticky with sweat and my pores were basically water bending. Luckily we had already gotten to our floor before I could even finish my thought.

Bala thatha and my parents made small talk while I sat there listening, of course, my brother was playing some game on my dad’s tablet, as per usual. I grabbed my tablet and put it into the charger that was set up on the little black nightstand. My little sister had fallen asleep so I had to make sure she didn’t roll of the little bed. Plus, from personal experience, I didn’t want her to get traumatized by falling of the bed and then ending up face to face with the cob web infested area underneath the bed. And that’s probably one of the reasons why I am absolutely terrified by spiders.

Seeing that I didn’t want my little sister to develop of prevalent phobia at a young age, I grabbed two pillows and stuffed them on either side of my little sister, and maneuvered myself into a sitting position against the headboard so I could keep and eye on the miniature human sleeping beside me. But I have to tell you, to me her facial features are so perfect and proportional I might as well call her a dryad or a nymph.

Ever since we landed in Singapore, Bala Thatha had found so many ways just to be together with us, and support us too. Without him who would’ve picked us up from the airport? Who would always rise to the occasion whenever an opportunity rose to see us? Every time I locked eyes with him, he would always have that amiable smile to greet me. And you know what?

His eyes smile too.

He was one of the first people who helped me rise up when I was hesitant in my first few entries on this blog. I mean I went from two to three paragraph posts to writing prolonged essays basically. Him, my dad, Babu Peryiappa, and Ganesan Mama. Without those four people guiding me two years before, I wouldn’t be writing here, I wouldn’t have the motivation to spark ideas. And of course all my family and those friends that stuck with me all the way.

Eventually he left with words of good nights in the air, and promises of meeting tomorrow. I managed to fall asleep for an hour or two beside my little sister on the bed, but a couple hours later I heard the door unlock and out came Jagan Mama. But I was so tired that I didn’t even have the stamina to wave or simply greet him.  I dropped my head so hard on that pillow I thought my neck was going to snap.

But I was too tired to care at the moment.

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The next morning we were planning on going to Mustufa to get some stuff for relatives in India. Like chocolates and sari’s and yada yada yada. So the morning went as it usually would and we were already off around ten am in the morning.

Singapore was so different in the daylight. Everyone had somewhere to go and nothing was scarce of movement, sure. But something about the day and night had such a different impact on everything in such an exotic place. Also, I took the time to really inspect Singapore with open eyes. Just by looking at the plant life you could tell that you aren’t even close to the Americas. The tree’s were more flamboyant, and the leaves more vivid and jagged on the edges. They even smelt enticing. Another thing is definitely the architecture. I am I sucker for peculiar, beautiful architecture and I love reading books about architecture too.

Singapore, obviously isn’t an exception. I mean the towering buildings that glitter even when you are only a few feet away. And there are so many different hot spots that I wanted to see as well. The Garden by the Bay was definitely high up on my list.

Also, I keep this list in my head, and also written out in my tablet and its basically a list of all the different states and countries I want to go to. Along with their national libraries. Like the National Library of France, or the one right there in Singapore. And I have seen pictures online of like, the best libraries in the CONTINENT. And most are basically scattered across the globe. And I have this dream of just traveling to all those places and visiting their libraries and bookstores. As well as admire the best architectural wonders.

Yeah, I know, blame me all you want for geeking out on you guys but you really can’t blame me. Books have intoxicated me in the best way humanly possible. PERIOD.

N o   a r g u m e n t.

Also, the architectural wonders are literally man made phenomenons and you have to see em’ to believe em’. I mean look at this;

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and this:

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HOW DOES THIS EVEN EXIST

Oh my gods I just got really off topic the past few paragraphs. Sorry sorry.

Anyway, Mustufa was, -and interesting experience.

Walking into there I instantly recognized the vast space, the entry area greeting us with rows and rows with cases sporting watches. The air conditioning hit me like a slap to the face and my body’s initial reaction was to disperse goosebumps across my outer arms and collarbone. My parents had to make a couple purchases on that floor anyway, therefore I kinda just, broke apart from my family, staying back a couple of feet actually. I wandered and looked at the overwhelming variety of wristwatches, clinquat under the lights of the area.

I liked to think that each one, and mind you there were thousands of them, that each and every accessory had it’s own little physical personality to the wearer as a counterpart. Each face embellished in gold, or simply alloy or another light metal. Some with surfaces so small you would need to squint to see the numerals that were probably scrawled on with a microscopic brush and ink. Others with integers so large you would be able to tell the time from a mile away. Some were colorful and fun, whilst others had a sense of simplicity yet elegance. Like the two different halves of the brain. One flamboyant, the other coherent and reasonable. I inspected each one, my brows furrowed, I pulled a classic Cheshire Cat smile just to see my ditzy looking face in the gleaming glass cases. I am to much of a dweeb for my own good.

So that went on for a solid fifteen minutes or so. I meant my family and I staring at watches and stuff, not me pulling stupid faces and looking at my self into the glass like a deranged, mad perso- you know what it doesn’t matter.

Next we rode the escalator to the floor above to select sari’s to take to India. But that moment was when I realized that I was in for the long run. The instant we stepped off that platform, I saw rows and of different fabrics. Cotton, silk, velvet, rolls and folds, stacks, piles. It was like stepping inside one of those random drawings my little sister does whenever I draw. Her plump little fist clutching the various crayons or pencils, individually or all at once. She grips them like they’ll run away for dear life and let me tell you. I don’t blame them. Bursts of color, miscellaneous and at random. It was overpowering but I realized it was going to take more than half of an hour for my mother to make her selections. Therefore the one thing running in my head was;

nopenopenopenopenopitynope

This wasn’t going to end for a while.

HELLO TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD. Sorry I just felt like saying that at one point on the internet. AND I FINALLY DID. Yay me! Anyway, school started a couple weeks ago and, well. You know how that goes. I’m officially in eight grade now! Yeah. the top dogs of middle school. The veterans of sixth and seventh grade. Until we hit high school of course. Cause then it’s the cycle all over again. I have already been doused with homework and side projects already. So its no picnic but I’m holding together, as I should be. Sorry this post is kinda short because I’m planning on creating a bigger emphasis on my next post. I’ll try to make my work more frequent, and most likely post some of my latest pieces that I drew. I did quite a few in India and Singapore, and a couple when we got back to good old California, so you are in for a treat.

Also, I have been reading over the viewing statistics on my dashboard and over five hundred people have read “All the Way Home” a post I did a while back. That is INSANE.

Absolutely INSANE.

Oh my gosh, I never, I really never thought I would have that many people read my blog. Especially a post that really mattered to me. I mean, I am just a girl, a naive thirteen year old, and I have so many things I want to say that I want to get out. And the fact that people actually want to listen is what truly shocks me. I’m serious, when I saw that over five hundred people read that one post I almost broke down and sobbed. I was so overwhelmed. So much kindness, that I feel I don’t deserve. I’m no one special and yet here we are. I’m only thirteen and I have been at this blog since the sixth grade. This really makes me feel like I have a voice, even when I speak out I waver.

So all I want to say is thank you. I know it’s spontaneous, but I just am so grateful to all of you. Just for reading. It makes my heart feel whole and my soul glow. So, yeah that’s all I wanted to say. For now of course. And I just want to say one more thing.

We are all colorful, our blood, our veins, we are flamboyant. We decide if we want to see the rest of the world in black and white.

disclaimer: this post is not sponsored by talking diapers.

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I woke up the next morning, I was groggy, and I couldn’t think straight. My body was still sore and my ankles hurt like heck. I had no intention of getting up. But my brain thought otherwise. I was pumped to started the day but my body just screamed  S L E E P. Okay, that sounded like I got possessed or something but you get the point. I was so confused with the time zones and everything, I mean in California it was night, obviously, but here in good ol’ Singapore, it was four a.m. in the morning. Oh yay! The angst is wonderful isn’t it?! I looked over at my little sister who was beside me on the bed. All you could see was a mop of black curls, as if it was a being itself. Her back moved slightly with ever breathe. She was so peaceful in her sleep. The little furrow of her brow gone, her mouth slightly open showing little rows of teeth. I always kind of envy babies. Not a care in the world, no one judges you. Someone does all the worrying for you.

I slowly got out of bed, pushing the wool covers that twisted around my legs. I sat up straight, swinging my legs to the other side of the bed, my hand trying to tame my bedhead, which itself looked dangerously close to being identical to any natural disaster. I looked around the apartment, my mom was sleeping next to my sister, her own curls blocking her face. Ever since they shaved my head when I was a baby, I guess the roots of those curls got lost or something. Which is kind of sad for me because I actually adore curly hair. But I don’t think it would look that decent on me, sad as it is, its true. Anyway, Jagan Mama was sleeping on the pull out bed, My little brother beside him. My dad was on his laptop, sitting flat on the ground, the laptop illuminating the window and the wall behind him. His face looked ghostly in the light of the screen as they danced along the wall. I slowly got up and went through my usual routine.

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An hour or so later we were all showered and eating breakfast. Jagan Mama and my dad having plans on going to Mustufa later that day to buy some stuff. And if I haven’t mentioned before, Mustufa is basically this   m a s s i v e   shopping center that runs for twenty-four hours. It’s a center where you can get anything you need, whether it’s clothing, medicines, makeup items, tech, shoes, jewelry, food, and even an entire section devoted to souvenirs. Sidenote, it was established in 1995 and it’s four hundred thousand square feet, and their apparently still adding more. Which I find totally INSANE, I mean the architecture is already perfect, and isn’t four floors enough? I just hope they don’t make it as big as an IKEA. Mustufa is big enough okay, and walking around for two hours, on the same floor is already tiring enough thank you very much. I mean I don’t think there’s any point in getting  a super expensive, deluxe gym membership or something. If your in Singapore you could just waltz on over to good old Mustafa and walk around for a good two our three hours. You can get your shopping done and burn a few calories.

The day went as expected. Jagan mama went to work a while later, and then my entire family did something so obvious, so forseeable, so expected. I almost  didn’t even end up caring at that point.

They all fell asleep,

My parents, my sister, even my little brother. I was literally the only one awake and it was pretty sad. See, jet lag doesn’t last long for me, two or three days max. I usually just try not to keep my eyes closed to long. I can’t let myself sink into the welcoming arms of sleep, especially when I was in a state in which it would end badly for me either way. I distract myself. Mostly draw actually. It’s the only thing that can keep me completely inattentive to my own bodies needs. In your ears, it probably might sound like the worst possible thing to do, in any situation, when your body needs you the most.

But I,  particularly, think it’s the best the in the whole of the world.

I can plunge into an entirely different atmosphere in my mind. All other thoughts are blurred, like a camera. My occipital lobe the shutter view, my brain’s frontal lobe the focus lens, the cerebellum the viewfinder. My brain stem what connects to it all. This isn’t real science, don’t think it is, but it is my mind. Everyone has a different conception in the way they overlook life. Ours brain are similar in anatomy, yes, but in the deepest depths. No one, is similar.

Our brains, our minds, are just as individual of our body itself. No way I can make it anymore obvious than it already is. You can be the most neat and organized person in the world. But your mind might not be the same. It might constantly be itching for an imperfection, your mind to embody your lifestyle. Or it can be the complete opposite. Your mind can be as fierce as an untamed wolf, prowling the forest, as adamant as a thunderstorm crackling the sky. As calm as the waves yet callous as the jagged edges of boulders, buried deep in the grains of sands. You can be as curious as the stars twinkling under the caresses of moonlight. You can be everything, and all at once. All elements of the world wrapped into a person, bursting with emotion.

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My only focus was the white of the paper and the ink of the pen, staining, marking, blazing fire onto the white of the sheet. But even two to three hours of drawing couldn’t keep my stamina skyward. My eyelids drooped dangerously low, my brain’s was losing it’s zing real fast. I tried keeping my guard up but it wasn’t working that well. One look at everyone else sleeping, breathe steady, heads swimming with dreams. I was a hopeless sack of failed determination.

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I woke up, everyone else awake long before I was. Drool was running down my chin, my face burned as I wiped it away with the back of my hand. My hair was mussed up, my legs were sore from sleeping in such an abnormal position. My dad was on his laptop, as per usual on his down time. My mom was fussing with Thulasi, my brother playing some game on my dad’s IPad. I noticed mine was on the ground, the keyboard part of the protectant splayed flat on the ground. I closed it and tucked it away into my backpack, scooping my little sister up as she cooed. I scanned the room and noticed three slim boxes sitting next to the sink, looking like the Twilight Zone versions of a classic milk carton. The top of the fridge had a new addition along with the bottles of water we had bought yesterday, donned shining new bottles. Along with a bright green plastic bag filled until it sagged with packages of snacks and biscuits. We figured that Jagan Mama had left them before going back to work. And he did.

Showing that he cares in the most simplest ways.

Such a subtle person yet, so much love and care, constantly pumping through in his veins. Forget pride. This is better.

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My parents were planning on going to the Veera Kaali Amman Kovil( Kovil means temple in Tamil)tonight. I had written about it on the posts I did a while back from the last time we were in Singapore. The beautiful architecture is unforgettable so when my parents mentioned it I knew instantly. The swooping pillars, the intricate design. The smell of castor oil that infiltrated my nose, the rose petals real enough to touch, yet deceiving with that wanting. We got ready quickly but as we did thoughts came running into my mind, like a dam with a leak that hasn’t been patched quite just yet. Or with any intention to do so.

I want to make something that will stand for centuries, all can see. It will stand longer than I. History’s eyes can be directed towards you whenever you would like to. You need the grit, the determination, the persistence, the esteem. I think you can make it happen. Doesn’t matter how old, how young. Doesn’t matter what religion, what race. Nothing matters. You got the passion. Use it. I tend to underestimate that fact, and I end up regretting it when I lose the chance. Like when you go and catch fireflies. You’re lucky enough to catch them in your grasp, the twinkle of their light a fascination yet a peculiarity of the universe. Having the grip of a fluid resumption, even looking away for a second, loosening the clenching of your palms. The curiosity building up. And just as quick as it landed, it flittered away, your simple movement was taken as a quickly detained sign of danger.

Don’t take this as an excuse to go around catching bugs and practically giving them heart attacks- no, that’s not exactly what I planned my dramatic, super inspirational, definitely cliche, portion of this blog post to be.

Well, mostly anyway.

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We decided to walk, seeing as that was easier, plus we could maybe stroll through the markets later on as well. I had to remind myself constantly in my head to walk on the left side instead of the right, like in the U. S.. Or maybe I have it the other way around. . .

Whatever.

The city was alive, bumbling with busy street vendors, people glowing in the gleam of the lights of the street. I walked behind my brother and my dad. Thulasi bouncing with every step my father took, with her in his arms. My mom talked beside me. I was mostly silent because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from everything around me.

I noticed, for a long time, that nothing in the city is still. Anywhere in the world, wherever there’s even just a patch of towering metal and glass, no movement will be stopped. Nothing is motionless. There is always a constant, a light is flickering, a person is sprinting by, most likely with a frantic situation in their hands. A couple chatting along, indulging in the other’s presence, oblivious to the rest of the world. A couple of birds, high up in the ledges of buildings, their beaks crooked as they stabilize themselves on the crevices. I

It didn’t feel like long before we were already there. It was impossible to ignore, and it is very obvious, to anyone passing by, that they were in the presence of a place that is sacred and alluring. The atmosphere itself changed the instant we stepped close to the entrance. The musky scent of natural herbs and tree fragrances felt so comforting, like I was being wrapped into a soft blanket, protected from the rest of the world. It was the smell of all the temples I and my family go to. It’s one of my favorite scents aside from new, fresh books. It feels so different from any of the usual things I would normally smell at home. Spices from my mom cooking, or some essential oil going through this little machine we have, it ejects the fragrance to the rest of the house. But this is always something wonderful and different to me. Yes my mom even puts it in our house too, so I’m not unfamiliar with the scent. But,

it always smells like home.

We walked in, and the first thing I noticed was the intricate designs in the walls, the ceilings, the pillars. Bursts of roseate and beryl greens. I wanted to run my fingers along the swirls and plunging dips the paintbrush left, from it’s stone canvas. The stone looked aged, as well as the paint and the deep carvings, yet, like many things in life, it was made even more beautiful. Age before beauty as they say. But no one said they both couldn’t create one captivating wonder.

The place practically was pulsing with this ambience that I knew everyone in the room could feel. The oil under our feet, the smooth, yet granular stone. Looking at the different deities left me with different prayers flowing in my head. One rocketing towards each designated god or goddess. My mother always reminds me to do so every time we’re in a temple. So, I do, because I have many things to thanks the people in the heavens above.

Thank you for good health for my family, for myself.

Thank you for safely landing us here in gorgeous Singapore.

Thank you for all the simple things too.

I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

Please, for the sake of the eighth grade and my high school GPA, let my grades not slip into a close failing grade. Or any failing grade at all.

Thank you for the good health of my dear relatives.

Also sorry for my very unformal grammar.

Uuh, bye for now?

I can’t tell you if those were my exact words at the time. I know for sure though, that they were along those line.

We visited each area, designated to a specific god. Also, a side note, I am really scared that I’m describing something wrong here. I’m no expert on this kinda stuff. I just know the basics I need to know so I don’t make myself a fool in front of anyone else. I’ve done that plenty of times beforehand so most of the time I try to keep my mouth shut.

Like any given day, my parents were pointing out the different deities and their names, as well as what their roles were. But I admit, I zoned out a little bit because it was three years since I had been here. I had the right to look around. We decided that we should head out and get some prasadam. And that is another word added to the other vocabulary I listed. Prasadam, is basically the food offered to the gods as a way of showing devotion and respect. Mainly, from what I have seen in my length of remembrance, they mainly give sweets or some kind of rice. Well, at least from my perspective it is. Anyway, first we saw a woman near one of the opulent statues, she was passing out on of my favorite Indian sweets, one everyone new I absolutely couldn’t resist. like if there’s a plate with twenty of those little balls of gold, they will be gone in under two minutes. Ask anyone. My mom, my dad, any female member of my family.

But then I end up with severe stomach aches and cramps

BUT I HAVE NO REGRETS

okay maybe a little but ya know we can get over that easily.

right?!

Anyway, I grabbed two, one from my mom since she was holding my little sis. I may have grabbed an extra one for myself but we aren’t gonna talk about that right now. We decided to tuck them into a napkin so they wouldn’t crumble in our hands. Soon enough my dad found a place that was serving curd rice in brown paper. Everyone in my family already got some so they were already heading into the the hall to eat. I was the last one to get a serving so I greeted the woman with her daughter standing on the table.

She was wearing this adorable little purple dress that sparkled in the moonlight. Smiling brightly, she handed me a brown wax paper and the woman who was her mother, gave me a spoonful bigger than my face. I tried to tell her that I didn’t need anymore and I thanked her to, in really choppy, awful Tamil, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She dipped her scoop into her pail filled with the warm, gooey, substance and gave me another serving that was only slightly smaller than the previous one. I thanked her and waved a little goodbye to the little girl who gave me the paper. She giggled with delight, giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. I shot a smile to her mom and she beamed back at me before both of them started to tend to another person. I walked off to the dining hall they had and sat cross legged on the floor along with my parents.

I knew in my gut that it was going to take me more than twenty minutes to finish the entire portion I was given. But I stomached everything anyway. It was a good thing it was really good. I made a decision that night, that if I ate anything more, my stomach will not hesitate to bring up everything I ate, and re acquaint it to the outside world.

We left the temple with full stomachs and feeling a new vigor, walking along before we decided to do a little exploring. We decided to look through some of the street markets and stuff too. And boy was walking through Little India a whole other experience at night. It was bustling with people. If the moonlight wasn’t enough, there were colorful signs, streetlights, any kind of form of electrical lighting you could imagine. My dad and brother went of somewhere to get fruit and flowers. My mom and I found this little shop that was selling bangles.

and that is an adventure for the next post.

Just you wait.

I recalled so many memories of Singapore on this drive it was almost unbearable to a point where I thought there was no point in going out again if we could already remember everything. Harsh I know, but I had just flown for fourteen hours with only one layover in between, so my manners were a little rusty, even in my head.

The whole thing is just bittersweet to me, when you think, no, when you know that you’re going to a someplace so exotic and lush and home, the adrenaline rushes through your veins, it pumps from your heart and doesn’t stop until you’re there. Your days consumed only by the sole thought of your feet landing on the soil of home, warmth, family. The thoughts fill you like honey, slowing dripping to the brim until you’re drowning. The thick liquid solidifying in your brain until you just can’t take it anymore. The sweet barrier breaks, the bitter cold enters in. The distance of separation is unbearably far. Extensive. Every one in their own direction. Everyone with their purposes of having to be there.

I shook the thought out of my head as we pulled up at this boxy looking building of concrete. It had perfect little black balconies and I really, honestly didn’t care about tours or anything at that moment, I just wanted to find a bed,

and sleep on it.

Cause that’s what normal people would do.

Jagan mama and my dad were already there and was waiting for our host to give us the key and let us in and- OKAY MOVING ON

They finally went up the elevator to drop of all our luggage. And let me tell you, one our way here my mom and Bala thatha were talking nonstop and it was basically about why and how Jagan Mama should get married this time around.  He’s twenty eight years old and he still hasn’t gotten married. That was the main point of their entire conversation. And honestly, I think that you can never rush love. It happens to every one, every one has their perfect soul mates. The people who will love you for who you are, they will look at you and your flaws and love you even more. I wanted Jagan Mama to find that love, with time, I knew he would find it.

i’m thirteen why am i talking about this.

Wow I made this blog post really awkward didn’t I?

Just forget it, moving on, I’m sorry its a touchy subject and I won’t get to into it for your guys sake.

We went to the apartment except Bala Thatha, Jagan Mama, and my dad were still trying to get a hold of the owner. It was small but I still liked it a lot. It had one bathroom, one queen bed, and a bunch of cabinets. it was all really neat and clean. The instant I step foot on the tile. I managed to lead a smudge on the pristine white tile. Why does this always happen? I step foot into a place and then it all just goes to Hades. It’s as if a line of destruction follows me wherever I go.

that’s most likely the case.

I plopped my backpack and my flute onto the ground, they both my a really loud clunk sound on the ground and I just cringed like I’m totally going to get yelled at for this but you know what, I’m too tired to care. The bed had white sheets, and I decided then and there that in the week that we will be staying in this apartment, those white sheets are going to have to be changed. Multiple times. I mean with a one year old, a seven year old boy, and a ballistic thirteen year old girl that is too clumsy for her own good. What do you think is gonna happen with those bleach white sheets in a week?

I had my face flat on the bed so I couldn’t see anything, I kinda just zoned out and rethought my entire existence, because my mind was shutting down. I wasn’t paying attention to anything my mother was saying to me at that moment. But my oh so kind little sister decided to barrel towards me like a tranquilizer dart and hop onto my back like a cowgirl waiting for her grumpy horse to get a move on. Well she got the grumpy horse part right. But how do you expect me to resist my little sister. I mean if you gave me the choice between my little sister and a basket full of baby pugs

I would pick both.

Okay bad example, moving on.

I was practically suffocating with my face directly in the mattress and I was instantly regretting my life choices. My sister was enjoying it though so I guess that’s what matters. I mean who cares if I get a damaged spine after this I’ll be fine. She finally got bored after like ten or fifteen minutes and by then I almost forgot how to breathe normally. I was just about ready to have a panic attack before I was like OH SO THIS IS WHAT BREATHING FEELS LIKE. I was straight up panting when I finally did though. My brother just gave me this look like “Oh my god you’re such a drama queen.” I just glared at him my sister just sat there all innocent like, completely oblivious to our little war.

Oh Thulasi, sweet, innocent, baby Thulasi. You’ll understand when you’re older, when I go off to college and you and Madhavan have your own share of intense fights to fill my part of it all. And for those of you reading who don’t have any siblings. Well you’re missing a lot, I gotta hand that to you.

Jagan Mama, Bala Thatha, and my dad came back and we were all finally inside together. We decided to go out and grab a bite to eat so the cleaning ladies were able to clean out the apartment a bit. We all packed our selves into the elevator. Including Thulasi in her little stroller. Bad decision really but we got down anyway, so that’s all that matters. Bala Thatha told us there was a nice South India restaurant we could go to so we decided to go there. We walked along and I looked around everywhere.

Wherever I turned there was something bright and loud and so new. Some people sung in another corner, another stall was selling flowers and other kinds of botanicals. The husky smell of a perfume shop nearby left the fragrance in the air for a while. It was really wonderful. I felt like I was walking in the streets of a market in Barcelona. I mean the scents, the sounds, the colors. It was all so wonderful. I never get bored when I come to Singapore and I say that as a fact. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, so many people that were so different and yet so similar to the everyday I see in the U. S. I saw an art shop that caught my eyes though. It was small and the outside interior was all done in black. A solid color, and yet not a color at all. Wonderful choice. From the distance I could see it was housing paintings of all sizes. Some so small I couldn’t see, some so large they were could practically be murals on your walls.

The weather was quite bearable, a soft baby blue sky, not the intense angry cerulean we had seen three years before. It looked softened, less intense. It would be weird to say even the sky looked relaxed, and yet it was. Like I said in one of my old posts about Singapore, people tend to believe the twisted perception that the air is dense. But like I said before, cold air doesn’t not have a molecular structure that moves as much as a heated environmental molecular structure actually would. The molecules are so close together that there is no point in even moving. Unlike heated air with molecules that are spaced apart from each other, therefore plenty of room to practically go ballistic.  The sun wasn’t beating down on us, but it wasn’t being moderate either.

It was weird, knowing that the particular climate in Singapore isn’t actually like this. It’s literally lined against the equator, a line of basically heat strokes and internal death. Okay, I exaggerated yes, but I have heard that people can basically die from heat strokes. And yet here we were, admiring the mild wind and the sun, which was moderately beating down. When we were first in the airport that morning, she felt so hot and constricted. But she was used to the heat by then, her body had a way of adapting quite quickly. Problem was, I was wearing thick black leggings, and that moment was when I realized that those leggings were meant for the winter.

Kinda stupid of me but still.

My thighs were sticking to the insides of the leggings, and my hips were basically sticking to the hemline. I wasn’t that uncomfortable, I mean running in 90 degree weather, wearing jeans is the worst though. I did it once in elementary school and just thinking about it makes me break into a cold sweat. But I had no time to think of all that because we stopped in front of this little building that said Man Iyer Hotel (pronounced ma-nee-ar). We walked inside and claimed a table next to where we entered since it was the largest inside.

I liked the inside because it looked kind of old in a way, with the paint on the fading green of the wall chipping, the fans working hard to serve its purpose on the ceiling, were moving side to side a little bit. I sat at the far edge of the table, my brother sat next to me, to my left. There was also this cabinet mounted on the wall and the edges were really sharp and just looking at them made me feel like they were tearing at my scalp. I tried to maneuver myself so I was sitting in a way that I couldn’t get hit. But in doing that, I still managed to get bump my head on that dang cabinet.

I rubbed my head and mumbled obscenities under my breath. I tried to do it really inoperatively so I wouldn’t manage to attract anyone’s attention. But what I had forgotten, was that Jagan Mama is very attentive. He’ll instantly spring into action when something needs to be done. Course that was unlucky for me because right then and there with no time in between he managed to ask “Are you okay, is something wrong?”  He had noticed before my mom, who was sitting directly across from me, and my brother who was right next to me. I was grateful for the small act but I just grumbled and said “yeah, yeah I’m fine, everythings fine.” I was just glad that I didn’t manage to cause a ruckus with anyone else watching.

Bala Thatha, in an attempt to keep us awake the whole time, tried coming up with plans for different stuff we could do with our week in Singapore. But all that was really going on in my head was just sleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleepsleep. And now that I’ve written it so many times, it doesn’t even look like a word anymore. We ordered a regular lunch meal for all of us which was basically rice, sambar, some different vegetable sides, etc. Basically what I would eat for lunch at home in the U.S. My mom and I said my brother and I could share a leaf since she didn’t want us wasting any food.

But that basically ended up with me eating everything because my brother doesn’t really eat rice that much in general. So after we finished up eating, we(meaning Jagan Mama and my dad)said that they would go out and buy my brother a dosa to eat or something, after dropping the rest of us off at the apartment. Bala Thatha, and my parents said that we would meet at his house that night for dinner to meet Parvathi Aachi, Divya Auntie, and Divan Uncle. There also relatives from my mom’s side and I always love meeting them because their such fun people to be with, and so amazing to converse with them as well. Parvathi Aachi is a principal and Divya Auntie is a teacher, and Divan uncle is in higher studies, still finishing schooling and stuff, but Bala Thatha said that we wouldn’t be able to see Naveen Uncle because he has to do two years of military service( its required in Singapore)therefore he was doing training.

When I heard that, I just felt this surge of pride for him. Yes, in Singapore all male citizens of Singapore are required to serve for a bit in the military but I don’t know for how long. But it doesn’t matter. Someone I knew, someone in my family, was doing something to protect their country, their people. Risking their life and so much more. I wish I had the ability, right now to do something just as courageous as that.

But all I could do right now is write like I’ve never written before, because that’s the biggest thing I can do now. He and the other men at his base are prime examples of a new generation of innovators and thinkers, writers, artists, musicians, firefighters, police men, detectives, composers, survivors. I know it, they know it. Because what we do in life, what we love, it all adds up to what we’ll want to do for the rest of our lives.

My parents say that computer science is literally in my blood, because of my dad, my uncles, basically two thirds of my family. My dad says that if I study computer engineering than, after college I could instantly get hired for a job. I live in the heart of Silicon Valley, which is all about big budget tech. Apple, Microsoft, Google, I could even have a decent chance of getting in one of those three if I’m lucky. Have enough money to survive on my own two feet and even support my parents and my brother and sister.

But I want to do more than survive.

This is more than blood, Naveen uncle, Divya Auntie, Parvathi Aachi, their proof of that. I’m more right brained than I’m left brained. My parents and I, we had this entire conversation about it earlier today and it was both tiring and disappointing to say the very least. I thought this even when we walked out of the restaurant, but I pushed those thoughts aside, coming to stride with Jagan Mama and my mom as we walked back to the apartment. Bala Thatha left, all of us with promises hanging in the air, of meeting that night for dinner. Jagan Mama and my Dad went out to buy a dosa, coming back about fifteen or twenty minutes later.

My eyes were getting dangerously heavy but I knew I would feel guilty with Bala Thatha’s voice ringing in my head, telling me not to sleep, distract myself, take a walk. I pulled out my IPad and started typing away notes of what had happened so far. But everyone in the room was already asleep, Jagan Mama left to go back to work. I was the only one up. I decided to take a shower and wear something that looked less like I was a slob and more clean. The bathroom was something else to get used to because I literally wasn’t tall enough to reach the hand held shower head. But I managed. Sure I almost got a concussion and slipped, hit my head on the fancy sink when I tried to put on my clothes. That was a traumatizing experience and if I add anymore details it’ll get even more embarrassing, therefore I’ll leave it at that.

I made the mistake of sitting on the super soft, cushioning couch, while drawing on my IPad and I ended up just curled up there on that couch, as if it was meant for me. Right then and there, I realized that, that couch was my favorite thing inside the entire apartment. It was so comforting and I couldn’t help myself but let go and be embraced in the warm, comforting arms of sleep as they enveloped me and didn’t let go.

---

I woke up to find that I was lying on my side, feet tucked underneath me. My hair was pooling to the side of the couch like a spider’s legs in the shadows, or hilts of thunder striking the ground. I didn’t like either of those inferences because I absolutely hate spiders, and thunderstorms.

Ever since I was a little kid, anytime I looked at one, I would just look at the thing and scream like an insane maniac and run away.  But not anymore. Now I just get these intense nightmares about them, that just end up with me shaking in the middle of the night, before I go back to sleep. Every time I see one I kind of just try to back away a little, but I’m always still terrified on the inside. Lightning also, thats something I wish the world could go on without. Yes, spiders and thunderstorms, the only things that truly terrify me really. But I don’t take it lightly.

I even saw a little tiny spider in a corner near the balcony, I thought of it enlarging and then I could punch it a couple times. Yeah, that made me feel better. I wanted to go to sleep and my head was just about to hit the back rest of the oh so comfy couch until I saw Jagan Mama, his hand literally was on my forehead. I hit him with a pillow but he just laughed so that made my victory a failure. I got up and tried rubbing the sleep in my eyes. But it felt internal. As if it would never leave my body. I could barely talk, let alone even walk. But I pushed myself, I had to stay awake, keep my eyes open, just for an hour or two. I mean I didn’t want to be rude when we arrived at their house. Bala Thatha was the one picking us up around seven thirty. Everyone was up and basically staggering to the elevator.

We got into the car, my dad in the front, me, my mom, my brother, Jagan Mama, and Thulasi in the back. I honestly still don’t understand the physics that let this happen but it worked out with Thulasi with Jagan Mama, and Madhavan basically sitting with my mom. I didn’t have the dignity to sit on anyone, and I’m glad I didn’t have to. Because no matter where we would go, I always claim the window seat. Singapore was going to be no exception. I felt like a little sugar cookie in a box with my other fellow sugar cookies. We were so packed that I could pretty much feel Jagan Mama’s phone vibrate against the side of my leg every time he got any notifications or something.

The drive to Bala Thatha’s house was like twenty or thirty minutes long so that bought me some time to look at the architecture of the buildings, lit up at night and glowing. Each crevice, pillar, glistening of the glass, visible to the eye even at night. Because Singapore is one of those places that doesn’t really transition into night. But a darker perception of day, even as the sun sinks and greets the other side of the world. I felt as the rest of Asia slept, Singapore was wide awake, the booming lights of day brought into the night, the people asleep, but the city alive and vigor.

We arrived at Bala Thatha’s apartment complex and I don’t remember much of when we arrived because I was so groggy with sleep that the only thing keeping me awake was my little sister’s giggling face as her ebony curls bounced with each step Jagan Mama took. Thulasi was born with a face that can only be described as the epitome of the bubbly happiness we all have, but have too much pride to show it. When she smiles, her eyes smile too. Her eyes practically glow when she find something new. But what really astonishes me is the color of her eyes. They’re an illusion. One second they’re a dark brown, then a silvery black, that shines itself. My parents say that Thulasi and I have the same eyes but I don’t believe it. Mine are murky and cold, nothing special. Her’s, well someone can stare at them forever.

We arrived at the top, by elevator of course. We had bought them some sweets and I had the bag in my hand. But I was to busy looking out from the top at the distance. All I could see was concrete and buildings. Like a forest, except, instead of tree’s, there were these massive boulders of man made use, cutting of any roots the soil had to give. We arrived at the doorstep of Bala Thatha’s apartment, I took of my shoes, I gave a soft hello to Parvathi Aachi, handing the bag of sweets to her and giving her a hug. Divya auntie and Divan uncle were quickly at the door, greeting everyone. I stepped inside, sitting curtly at one of the couches. Everyone else settle themselves whilst Divya Auntie and Parvathi Aachi whisked themselves away to the kitchen, my mom, with Thulasi in hand, followed her.

I got up, my feet dragged the ground as I walked to the small kitchen. Parvathi Aachi and I talked a bit about school and how my writing was going. I tried to speak as much as I could with everyone, but when we ate I was practically silent. I guess everyone was a little bit. We enjoyed the sheer pleasure of us all being together. That was enough. Parvathi Aachi had exclaimed later that night, that my sister was definitely a Capricorn. Little Thulasi was born in January, therefore it was true she was a Capricorn, determined, helpful. Definitely her traits in Zodiac terms. I kind of liked the way she said it though “Oh she is definitely a Capricorn.” She had this little tinge in her voice, making the statement even more deep with meaning.

I noticed that on their fridge they had tons of magnets from different places they had been to. The more little, decorative magnets. The more places it seemed. The fridge was covered in color, different places. Each had a story to tell. I liked it a lot and I had found more meaning in it than I think was intended.

It was getting a bit late and we had to get back to the apartment. I really did enjoy spending time with them and we planned to meet up once more again that week. Even with much protest, Bala thatha was stubborn and told us he would drive us back to the apartment. He reminded me so much of Sekar Peryiappa, the undeniable kindness, the cordial stubbornness. We said our goodbyes before leaving and once again, regaining or packed formation in the car.

I leaned my head against the window as I watched the world pass by. People, buildings, lights, colors, sounds. Life everywhere.

Anywhere.

Guys I started this at like 12 am and I went to sleep at one yesterday. I had barely accomplished anything yesterday because there was something wrong with the computer. I slept in today and I just wanted to apologize for already screwing up my little system here. Okay real talk over.

ALRIGHT PART 4, LETS GO

---

I was tired, my heels felt like someone tried to give me a massage with broken glass and knives. My eyes were heavy and even if I didn’t have a mirror, I knew my eyes were dark and cold. Glaring at anything and everything, as if I was going to strike it down with lightning any minute. My thighs ached, my head was throbbing like heck. I felt like I was going to snap at any second you know?  Anything that could even possibly get on my nerves would make me, explode like a firecracker. You decide to even wrong something I did when I was narcoleptic and you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day and maybe onwards.

I AM DONE. I AM DONE WITH THE WORLD. I AM DONE WITH THE UNIVERSE. I HATE EVERYONE. LEAVE ME ALONE. YOU DISAPPOINT ME SO FLIPPING MUCH RIGHT NOW. WHO DARES TO WRONG ME WHEN I AM IN THIS RETCHED STA-

OH MY GOSH THERE’S A PUPPY OVER THERE

I’m not a morning person, try waking me up and it’ll result in you getting smacked in the face with a pillow very hard, or worse. I mean I am a physical hazard when I’m really worn out alright?! So you might as well put caution tape outside my bedroom, maybe a few traffic cones if you wanna make me feel special.

To cut it short, in Singapore it was morning, before twelve pm to put it at that. In California it was night. A.K.A the time I SHOULD BE SLEEPING. I take my sleep very seriously okay. My mom says I should be more adult because I’m older now and I should be more mature and more flexible. Sure I understand that but

it weely huwt my feewings.

I will not hesitate to snap and my dad of all people knows that. And he takes advantage too. I mean my father is probably the most annoying person(well to me)on this planet. Aside from my brother. Also he does this thing where its li- OKAY WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS

We were supposed to be meeting my uncle(mama in Tamil terms)and my moms uncle( my grandfather because he is my mother’s uncle, and in Tamil grandfather is Thatha, keep that in mind.)That was the only thing that kept me going to where we were supposed to meet them. Which was the exit out of the airport. My uncle, Jagan Mama, well he’s like a second father to me. All my uncles are, but there is something so different about him that earns him that position in my life. He never gets agitated to the point of it being absolutely absurd. I have never, in my entire life seen him get agitated, or even sad really.

He always manages to stay happy all the time. I don’t know how he manages to, he just does.  If you need him to run and errand he will, without hesitating go ahead and do whatever you need for you. If you lose something he will gladly help you find it. He has this way of molding with people, no matter how ridged and course you are. You can be the most awful person in the known universe, and yet he would gladly talk to you like a good friend. This is one of those .human capabilities that are just so hard to have written in you. You’re just born that way. All of my family is that way most of the time. Me, I wish, but thats seriously not the case. I get mad easily, and I have the patience of a a child in the same room with a tub of ice cream and a box of cookies.

But my uncle is different. Everyone has their flaws but its kinda hard to find his. EXCEPT THE FACT THAT HE NEVER EVEN CONTACTS YOU SO YOU DON’T EVEN NOW IF HE’S DOING WELL OR NOT.

I mean seriously, we haven’t seen the guy in three years and we text him and call him and everything, but HE NEVER FREAKING RESPONDS. WHAT THE HECK MAN. My parents, and you guys can nag me and yell at me all they want but this is a key detail in this post, because what I witnessed moments after was something that had to relate to this alright?

And Jagan Mama, if you’re reading this.

Uh, hi.

Hows life going for ya.

No I’m definitely not writing about you.

On the internet.

For everyone to read. 

On this blog.

So do you like eating bagels with pesto sauce?

pwease don’t hurt me

(I actually do its delicous. I know I’m weird)

We were also going to be meeting my moms uncle and my grandfather, Bala Thatha. Now he’s something else. I wrote about him a while ago on my blog about our last trip when we visited Singapore. And the fact that he actually reads my blog and likes it really makes me feel like I can do anything. Because getting people, adults mostly to listen to a thirteen year old idiot who has to much on her mind and little to no common sense really astounds me. He and his wife were the ones that always tell me really encouraging things, ever since the start along with other people as well. They are both incredible people that I really look up too because the way they see things in life is, wonderful. They don’t look at every thing as if it were a straight line. They are bold enough to bend it. I know I’ve used this line before in another post a while ago. But it’s honestly one of my favorites because its so true.

Bala Thatha is a simple person. He reminds me of Steve Jobs a little bit actually. He will keep contact with you and only call or message you when he isn’t busy, and I really appreciated the fact that he was willing to spend as much time possible with us ever since we landed in Singapore three years before. You can also tell that he reads a lot, like me. When you catch him alone he’s always reading something. Tablet, book paper, cellphone, whatever. And I like that. He also is really philosophical in a a lot of subjects. (I’ll get more into that later)Each thing he says has a really valid point and I think a lot of people lack that.

So I was obviously really excited to see both Jagan Mama and Bala Thatha. It was one thing to look forward to in my head and push me forward, plus it kept me from curling up onto the tile of the airport ground(no matter how disgusting it would be)and sleep like I haven’t slept before in my life. We finally got close to the exit, see there was this glass wall separating a section from this waiting area near the exit.

We searched for the two men, but then I saw the distorted silhouettes anamorphic glass. My uncle’s tall, lean figure, unmistakable. I pointed in that direction but my parents were already on their way around the thin wall dividing us to them. We kept a moderate pace but my mom was practically running. When she saw him, my uncle, her little brother, she burst into tears and sobbed into his chest as they hugged. I was starting to get bleary eyed at the sight. A few tears escaped my eyes my dad just looked at us awkwardly but he greeted both of them. We haven’t seen him in three years, haven’t spoken or even texted. My mom deserved the right to cry.

You understand what I meant when it was a key detail don’t you?

Family isn’t a big thing.

Its a thousand little things.

That was the day I realized that and I really hope I don’t forget.

Jagan Mama walked up to me and gave me a hug. I gave him a watery smile and tried to wipe my tears away quickly. He was so tall that I had to crane my neck just to meet his eyes. He and I always goof around so it was no surprise when he started snickering because of my height. It definitely broke the tense mood in the air.  He started playing with Thulasi but my sister was like

No I will sit here with a pouty face, in my stroller and refuse to befriend this stranger that every body is claiming to be my uncle. I will smack him if necessary but I will keep a safe distance until he proves worthy of my trust.

I don’t understand how I managed to get all that from simply looking at her but we’re just gonna go with it right now.

A couple moments later I realized that I completely forgot to greet Thatha. I instantly felt really guilty so I turned around and we both talked for a bit. I was really happy to see him after such a long time. My dad and Jagan mama decided to take all our luggage to the hotel by taxi while me, my mom, my brother, my sister, and Thatha went in his car. We all went to the parking lot and he and my mom talked for a while before he had to go meet us with his car in the parking lot because it was kinda far. And the first thing I noticed when we stepped outside was

what the heck why is it so hot.

OH WAIT I FORGOT. THIS ISLAND IS PRACTICALLY ON THE EQUATOR. OH I DIDN’T FORGET ABOUT YOU MISTER SUN. WE STILL HAVE A HATE RELATIONSHIP AND DON’T YOU THINK I FORGET IT EVERY TIME I COME HERE. YEAH THATS RIGHT I’M TALKING TO YOU SUN. HEY WHEN I STEP OUT OF THIS PARKING LOT DON’T YOU BE SHINING YOUR RAYS OF DISAPPOINTMENT AT ME YOU GOT THAT?!

The sun and I don’t have a good relationship when we’re in Singapore together. I can say that much.

Thatha pulled up in his black SUV. When I climbed inside the air conditioning hit us real hard but it felt good. The one thing I don’t like about Singapore is that its not just hot here. Its like, humid. Your clothes stick to your back, your palms are constantly sweating, your fingers get all clammy, and you feel so hot that you feel like a toaster strudel baking in an oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

I was happy though, we were with family, sure it was a small amount right now, but I knew we would see more people. It wasn’t a hunch, people gravitate towards people. I found that out through coarses of my life and I can still see it amongst other people. Its practically impossibly to avoid people you love. No matter how large the gap, the distance. We will always be found and we will always be found together.

The Changi Airport, I declared the instant we were entered, was by far my favorite. Always has, always will be. The inside is like an interior wonder. And the outside is architecturally practical, and amazing and just H A P P I N E S S. I mean sure its super tiring to walk and stuff but its worth it. I like that they have plants everywhere, I mean its all eco friendly too, which is even better. We ended up in this really nice, I don’t know, rest area I guess. It was big and had seats like, everywhere. We decided to sit far off near one of the restrooms and just sit for a bit. It was a really cool polished design actually. I mean it was a long, solid block of wood with large parts cut out for seating.

We sat down, but the second my bottom brushed the varnished wood my mom just blurts ; “We forgot the stroller!” You see, my parents brought along this travel stroller that you can fold up and take with you wherever and it was really practical and easy if my sister was getting sleepy or antsy. Before boarding our flight in San Fransisco, they put a tag on it saying it should be sent straight to the Changi Airport in Singapore. We were in the Changi Airport, in Singapore. And yet we all had forgotten the authority we had over that poor stroller. My dad decided to go back and retrieve from where we exited. A couple moments later my dad got it back, it was all good, we got back our happy little stroller. My mom and I decided to use the restroom to change or clothes and cleanse ourselves.

Now, in Changi Airport, or any airport really, the bathrooms are just really fancy. Like modern art museum interior fancy. But this restroom was a flipping work of art okay?! Sure I lost some of my dignity saying that, on the internet, where lots of people can read, but it was worth it! When I entered I instantly felt out of place with my mussed up hair and crooked glasses. It was so lavish and clean and the freaking mirrors were floating. Well thats what it looked like from my view anyway. Due to my unfortunate lineage in height that I received from my mother, the mirrors appeared to be defying the laws of gravity them self. I craned my neck and(to my disappointment)the mirrors weren’t actually hovering. The mirrors were designed to be attached to the ceiling so paper towels were coming out of the other end. I found that to be really practical and innovative as small as the idea was.

My mom and I went and did our business and I came out before she did so since I had to wait after washing my hands I just stood there like a creep in the bathroom. Another thing about Changi Airport, is, that they have these little rating systems in all their restrooms, nature displays, etc. So near the exit to the restroom, their was this little screen which had five little faces, one was extremely happy, one was just grinning, one was looking just okay, another was slightly frowning, and the last one just looked plain disgusted. Below the respective yellow circles were the words, excellent, good, average, poor, and very poor. Above the screen was a picture of the women of cleaned the area. I looked around and realized she was cleaning one of the stalls and had just come out. I clicked excellent on the screen just as my mom came out of the stall and was washing her hands.

I was contemplating whether or not to say something to the elderly lady but my introvert kicked in. I’m not the most outgoing person. I mean what do you expect me to say to person I have never met, and don’t even know. Just waltz up to her and just be like  “HeystrangerI havenevermetinmyentirelifebeforebutIamtalkingtoanyway.You do anexquisitejobatcleaningandIthinkanyonewhoeverwalksintothe restroomshouldrateandexcellentalsoyouhavenicehairaswellwhatkindofshampoodoyouuse?”

No, I ain’t that kinda girl.

I was still thinking it over when my mom tugged me along, when we were close to the exit I just silently shrieked “wait” like a banshee and broke away from my mom faster thank you can say “methylenedioxymethamphetamine.” My mom and I both gave a simple wording of appreciation which earned us both hearty smiles from the woman, before coming out of the restroom telling my dad and brother that we could go to the Immigration area. We went and it was really colossal. I mean the last time I was there I remember feeling so grown up being ten years old but I’m thirteen now. I felt very small. I mean I understand things better now, my eyes and mind aren’t glazed over all the time. 

Okay real talk over now.

While my parents filled out forms I instantly got bored, along with my brother and sister. My brother was goofing off, my sister was eating a canister of salted peanuts. My dad, was pointing out some stuff that my mom had to right in the forms. I was ogling over this entire wall and its just massive and awesome and just H O W. I mean I assumed that they would have built in an irrigation system to keep all the plants hydrated. Unless there was someone who was over thirty feet tall and was able to defy gravity, walk on walls, and was willing to water plants in the airport daily while having to deal with the commute of people coming in and out of the airport like house flies.

I took my sister in her stroller and we explored the garden area with massive( wow I really like saying the word massive ) plants and shrubs. There was even this gargantuan statue of, a walnut. Of all things someone decided to make a walnut thats like a million times bigger than an actual walnut. Though I have to admit it was quite majestic looking compared to the trash can nearby overflowing with soiled paper cups and immigration forms. After what felt like an eternity, my mom finally finished up and we hustled on over to one of the lines.

The thing is, since we had Thulasi and Madhavan, -and I guess me in this case, we were technically children and we didn’t know about this until now I guess, but this man approached and told us to move to this other line with a sign that had a figure of a pregnant woman, children, and a figure with a walker. Basically this was a line for passengers with children, a passenger or a passenger who is or is in relation with a conceiving woman, or elderly persons. I found this to be a great idea, until I realized that this line was taking WAY longer than the regular lines beside us.

That escalated really quickly. Through I wish the line was quicker. Ha see what I did there? ; ) When we finally got out turn, apparently we were supposed to go as pairs so my mom, Thulasi, and I went first. Since Thulasi is just a baby and all they let it pass. Basically we had to put both of our own thumbs onto the finger scanner thing and I was terrified because a couple moments before I was wiping my hands with baby wipes and I was like:

ohmygooglymooglyfrickafrackwhatifthecomputerthingjustdoesn’treadmyfingersbecausetheirwetorwhatifImakeitgoupinsparksanditgoeshypersensitivebecausemyhandsarewetandthenitexplodesandcatchesonfire.

I just stood there super awkwardly with a really fake smile plastered on my cringy little face as the computer scanned my fingerprints. I honestly was hyperventilating behind my mask. The officer didn’t seem to notice but I did get one worried glance from her like

child are you okay.

What do you expect me to say? Oh yeah I’m great, I’m just making sure your computer scanner thingy doesn’t explode on me. Are you having a nice day? Yeah not happening. We were finally done. My brother and dad too. We started heading to baggage claim to, claim our baggage. And do you know how HARD it is to CONTAIN YOURSELF in front of those carousal things? I mean I just want to jump onto one a those those and just run around on it. and see how they get transported. Like going on a sideways ferris wheel. But I was way to tired and the jet lag was already kicking in. before I could do something stupid. But another new contingency was waiting. Two actually, both in the form of men. And both two men who are, and always will be parts of my lives that will never ever be underappreciated and I will never ever forget to love with all my heart.

I think my mother will agree.

I opened the window expecting it to be at least a little brighter outside than the pitch black world I saw moments before I had fallen asleep. No difference except it looked like we were plunging through a pitch black abyss. Looking at it for a while, it was an eyesore. My eyelids were tired and constrained. I felt like an animal in a cage waiting to get out. A very irritated animal in a very incarcerated cage.

At one point I had to use the bathroom, and do you realize the struggle just to get up? I mean I have to like maneuver past my brother, my mom and sister, and go along the isle without falling like an idiot due to light turbulence.

Also using those bathrooms are like a living nightmare. Its like when you flush, the freaking thing sounds like a demon thats going to suck you into a vortex that will slowly teleport you to a black hole of tenebrosity. Yeah. So I guess what you can get out of all of this is that, the flight experience was quite traumatizing for me. So I tried to fight it all off. With sleep. Good decision to because then I didn’t have to deal with the awful food and stuff.

I woke up like an hour or so before we were supposed to land, the clouds were lumpy and looked like someone tried to concentrate them with a leaf blower. But, in a way it looked gorgeous when the sun hit them at just the right angle, any punctures only reflecting the son on a nearby cloud. The curvaceous masses soon gave way to what was really below. I could sea the brilliant blue of the sea, the ripples dancing in the sun like dryads. There movements consistent, yet sure. Boats sailed along the mollifyingly pulsing sea, some in groups, some secluded. It reminded me of when I went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium when I was younger. There was this one area where all there was, was this massive tank taking up the entire wall. I stood in front of that thing in awe for at least twenty minutes just staring at all the peculiar corals. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. Yet what I really started to notice was the diverse amount of fish in one area. More specifically their actions. Their behavior towards any other form or species, even by the slightest difference made them stay away.

Those boats were just as I described. In schools with who they were familiar with, or secluded. Their own species. I honestly don’t know why I was so absorbed into this. I guess I just found it like a undifferentiated thats all. I soon started to see land below, well small islands. They were lush and green until I saw the ones near Hong Kong. There were regions pullulating with green. Verdant and ambrosial in my eyes. I liked it. It had no buildings, no domiciles housing humans as far as the eye could be able to see. It was raw. Something I don’t think was seen for a while. Well at least since the late nineteenth century in my opinion.

Hong Kong was approaching, the plane was going a little too slow for my liking. None of the movies satisfied me as much since most were just dramas with histrionic scenes and no plot line. We finally started going down, bit by bit, making my stomach do flips that I did not enjoy. It felt like a butterfly world war was going on in there. Hong Kong was like looking at a shipping container filled with various colored boxes of cargo, discrete sizes and shapes. It looked intimidating to me, sure. I mean me, I tiny little minuscule in a concrete rain forest like Hong Kong.

It reminded me of Singapore actually. I mean it is buildings mostly. I love it definitely. Its a small yet sustained island. Imagine New York but an archipelago, five times more colorful, and with advertisements on the television with little cartoon figures with eyes two times bigger than their head. Course that sounds more like I’m talking about Disneyland or something. Guess it might as well be right?

Before I could gather my thoughts, I felt like we were being attacked by a cheese grater from the bottom of the plane. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to rip of my seat belt and go to the pilot’s cockpit and take the controls myself. Instead I had to just sit there like a baked potato with glasses and gripped the arm rest on either side of me, waiting until the plane reasonably slowed down.

As soon as it stopped I unbuckled my seat belt, careful to break it in the process. I was extremely provoked and I was in no mood to be messed with right then. When my brother asked me why I looked so tired I just glared at him like have you not seen what I have been going through the past fourteen hours of this affliction. I followed everyone else getting off just as soon as my parents got our hand luggage out of the overhead compartments. As soon as we got close to the bridge connected to the exit I got the heck outta their faster than if you told me I was being chased by a drakanai.

The airport was massive as any airport I have seen so far in my life. Our layover was one hour, and I found that to be an outrage in my part. I mean we were flying for fourteen hours and you decide to have the genius idea. HEY LETS TORTURE THESE PEOPLE EVEN MORE BY MAKING THEM ONLY HAVE ONE HOUR OF TIME TO BE WELL RESTED AND RELAX WHILE THEY STILL HAVE TO DO SECURITY CHECK AND STUFF AT THE SAME TIME. OH YES WE ARE THE EPITOME OF EVIL PEOPLE.

We went through the whole security check process and you know how that goes. We all then went at different times to use the restroom to freshen up a bit before we headed to our gate. The area was spacious and sunlight streamed through the panes of glass and reflected against the tile. It was nice to say the least. After being cooped up in such a tight space for so long, it felt great to be in an open area, even for only a little while.

We were allowed to board after a little while. I tried ignoring the putrid thoughts pushing themselves to the surface of my mind that detested flying. I wish humans can actually fly, I thought as we boarded. An insane thought.

An awesome thought.

On the plane I had my mindset on just sleeping off until we landed. Thats exactly what I did. When I’m on a plane, I always get odd dreams. It never something I can ignore. But its better than any movie you can show me on a little TV monitor. All I remember is my brother shaking me awake saying that we landed. I opened the window and looked down. We were approaching the runway, I could tell by the turbulence hitting us. It was bright outside in Singapore, I saw the tall buildings, gleaming in the sunlight. Singapore is like an architectural wonderland, and thats one of my favorite things about it too. We landed on the runway. Ignoring the grit of it all, I thought of everything to come. Family, food, sightseeing, adventure.

We landed, I looked out at the city before me, the clouds hazing over implying rain anytime soon. I thought of three years before. The very same place, the very same thing to happen. And yet,

that was then, this is now.

This was  a new experience. New possibilities. What was to happen in our one week of time here? That was a new question to unfurl and blossom. The answer waiting in the depths of fate.

I got really dramatic there didn’t I? Oh well.

Lets let the adventure in people.