Saturday, September 25, 2010

Seventeen Bottles of Love

Birthdays are strange things. They become less about the colourful presents and more about the beautiful sacrifice of time as we grow older.

My birthday on the 24th of September began like absolute crap. If there were a way to describe it, crap would be the most apt. I felt like someone had dug a hole somewhere in my stomach and was shoveling rats into the it with vengeance. And these were no ordinary rats, but rats which shot flaming fireballs from their eyes and spat acidic poison.


And that was how I felt: rat-pit crap.

My maths teacher was threatening me with demerit points (for a worksheet, would you believe) and I was undone about my history test, I had Chinese prelims which time did not permit me to revise for. I was a mess.

To top it off, my friends had seemed much too busy to remember my birthday. After all, it was, Chinese prelims. I hadn't been expecting much, but I at least (in an egoistical self-indulgent way) hoped someone would say LETS SING A SONG FOR AMANDA! Just the indication that they had remembered would have been enough for me.

No one did.

Until, of course. English class.

HL-3 English class, I can safely say is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. I have never found a group of people who amuse, touch and amaze me more then them. Toward the end of lesson, Carmen raises her hand and says

"Mdm, can I ask you a question?"

At this point I was thinking to myself- dear heavenly God, I want to ask YOU a question. You obviously forget it's my birthday. Ironic since you made me, but if you didn't forget then why do I feel so depressed and upset? But of course you're not going to answer because my question is not really a question but a bitter tirade of self pity.

And then.

My class began to RECITE.

Line by line, an excerpt from Antony and Cleopatra. And while I was sitting there confused and bewildered, they brought out a PIE with candles stuck in it and began to sing a birthday song for me. (A pie- I love pie)

I was stunned.
Absolutely, completely, shocked beyond comprehension. I never saw it coming. I stood there all embarrassed for my previous bitter thoughts and touched as a multitude of feelings assaulted me at the same time- so I did what anyone would do a situation like that. I cried.

I stood there like a fool, tears running down my cheeks like a demented child, loving and loving so much the people who were smiling at me and grinning and Tricia who said loudly "PLEASE DON"T CRY LA" which cracked me up 'bit.

It was the best pie I had ever eaten in my 17 years.



After which things just started getting better- Carissa got me to go down to Skate Park in school, and there was the rest of them waiting for me with cake- and JoshuaQ flinging his sweat around and Polaroids and Krystal's silly faces and Jesern getting smashed in the face with cake. I laughed so hard then- it was a darling surprise.

And then darling Joon lied with impeccability that we had a 'meeting about Independence Day' which met me with (surprise) not a meeting about Independence Day but Niranjan and Damain singing Happy Birthday in a melodiously hilarious line by line fashion. And of course, more cake(: I <3 style="font-style: italic;">Dear God, I thought. Is this how you react when I bitterly abuse you and your divine ways? With beautiful, wonderful friends whom I love so much my heart is bursting at its damn seams to celebrate my birthday with? You're trying to make me feel guilty aren't you. Well, God, it certainly worked. Wont be in a hurry to do that again any time soon.

And God?

Thank you. And sorry- for ever doubting that you forgot it was my birthday.

F1 was bloody brilliant with the food and the service- it would be hard to forget. Sitting across the whole row of pitstops and seeing Alonso's pit stop UP CLOSE and not through a television screen was surreal. Thank you Kevin and Grace- it would be an experience difficult to forget.

And Brazil Brazil! was the bomb, Portuguese songs and a heady, lively and thumping beat. I am going to be a Portuguese dancer when I grow up-

I almost nearly got into Chippendale too.



And this morning, Bob, Cra, Kryst, Loo and France crashed my house, waited 1 whole hour and stood around my bedside while I was still asleep. ASLEEP. Drooling and snoring and being a disgusting unglam piece of grossly sleeping mass.

And when the first sight you see after peaking through your eyelids are your insane friends who you miss you much it hurts clad completely in white- wonder if you're dead and the other thing that people do in such situations. Scream.

And don't look and me with the mong look and say "really" because yes REALLY- I'm a girl. We scream and cry. At least we don't smell like a million unwashed socks after soccer and muddy the floor.


Then they present me a box which say "The White Box of Wonder" which had much alleged significance- according to them, of course. I ignore their attempt at irony and nearly die of laughter when I see Cara has given me her plasticine teeth mould.(made with white plaster of course)

I'm not even kidding- the box things which they found in their houses that were white, assorted white candy, random notepads, the CJC fullscap paper, and other nonsense. (no wonder that shirt looked familiar)and it was so funny I nearly wet myself.

I miss the heady rubbish we get up to- in ACSI its just not the same.

France baked a delicious (and France it was surprising good, really.) brownie cake which we devoured with relish.


They had sacrificed their entire morning for me and I was undone again, only this time is a good way. Destroyed by the sheer love and sacrifice- that during the exams my friends would take time off for me.


THEN my parents brought out this delicious banana cake to share and we ate till we couldn't walk.


I felt like all teenager's birthdays- that I couldn't be seventeen it was too short, too fast, and all too scary.

I felt overwhelmed- like my heart had only 16 bottles to fill but there was love to fill seventeen, and I have decided that that love must be fizzed over like in weddings when the wine spills over the top cup in the stacked structure, over the first cup and down into others- to share.

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