let lemons be angry

We will never be back there again. I was looking for photos of myself that i can put into my self portrait assignment, but i found these instead. They say so much more than the millions of things i've written about the last two years. Because we never write about the very simple happy days. Only tragedies and soap opera cliffhangers. Nothing was written about us sitting on the grass beside the white tissue paper flowers that didn't turn out well in photos. Nothing was written about the three of us squinting in the sun on a great workless day by the pool, taking photos like tourists in a big city. Not one word about all the effort we put into our notebooks--glue and poems and thoughts and drawings, whole worlds in themselves that few people will ever see. Nothing about very lazy days on manda's waterbed in giant, comfortable RJ t-shirts and fbts, with essays and problems out the window completely. But life is more about very lazy days than chaos. What if i lost my memory one day and reading my entries, thought that my life was one never-ending cycle of being busy and angry and rock-bottom and shooting through the roof? Tiring, terribly tiring.

So. i shall recount this normal, lazy day. I woke up at 11:30 for the second day in a row and maybe the second time in my life. Waiting for me was a post-it saying "Please hang up laundry. -Mum." Then i had my very favourite chiang mai mango salad with the unbeatable toasted coconut and chicken cubes, and my very favourite thai pina colada with its gorgeously creamy scoop of coconut ice cream and juicy pineapple chunks. After that i had half-price waffles with apple crunch yoghurt--oh gooey gooey goodness. All the while i had to take photos of objects on a "beautiful day" that resembled alphabets. Good thing i watched sesame street when i was a kid. Little Tricia, being the one who'd most recently watched such educational shows, couldn't stop spotting alphabets everywhere. I was almost in awe.

And speaking of awe-inspiring kids, my 2-yr-old cousin can do 50-piece jigsaw puzzles while rolling around and crying and soiling his pants. "Baby, you can't do this, it's too hard," his mother kept saying at first. I think she'll never underestimate her baby again. All you future parents, remember never to discourage your kids from trying what seems to you as impossible. Even if it's something that seems as tough as a snowball chopping a coconut with an axe over a log.