The Branded Backpacker: Day 3, Get Ready

I'm BA-ack!
Mom, Dad, Gramma(who's 90 this year. Longevity rules!),Kisha and I went to a Dim Sum, its like chinese high-tea. I was wearing my ZARA leggings again, my Mango scavenger bag and a pretty striped purple top that I got as a christmas present from my mom's friend (I actually picked it).

There was a flight of stairs to the restaurant and my grandma made it up. There was a random lady who suddenly said from behind," There's an elevator y'know." And we're all," Our grandma's strong," "It's good excersise," "She's 90!" And we had some Dim Sum with my cousin and his wife and his little kid, my aunt, my uncle and us. After that we were driven to places by Kisha, my big sister. She got nagged by Mom for swinging too much along a curve when she was on amber. But I found it fun 'cause I slid from one side to the car to the other. It was leather if you were wondering.

Gramma was dropped off at my aunt's house for some sleep.Then Dad went to the dentist and Mom went to the hairdressers and I tagged along and she got her hair coloured and cut and I got my hair layered for the fun of it(my hair'll grown back anyway)! And Kisha went back to her dorm to do some work.

Mom's going to leave for the Philippines to visit her Moma in Palawan(one of the islands of the archipaeligo) and settle some other things like our apartment in Manila tonight or morning. We could have tagged along but the ticket prices was too high. Anyway I can Skype my cousins there. So that means tomorrow I'm going to be bored because Dad's going to have a meeting with some guy named Paul at Thomson Plaza. Financial stuff I guess. Maybe I could meet my friends...but I don't have all of their numbers....Oh well I'll tell you about tomorrow if I can, bye!

The Branded Backpacker: Day 2, She Has Touched Down

Hey! I'm back! I have flown for 27 hours. I have eaten the most synthetic food of all. I almost vomitted. And I survived.

For the first 12 hours I have flown to Houston to connect to Los Angeles, California! It was body-numbing freezing! I couldn't feel my fingers or my toes! But I loved it. I met my cousins and drove to Milpitas to visit my aunt and her children. And we also drove to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Fransisco! It was amazing! The cold. The spirits. And the wonderful architecture of buildings that lined up across the streets--just like New York, but not as busy.

And the remaining hours of my dreadful flight(s), brought me to Narita Airport in Japan. In which Japanese items in the duty free store were snapped up before you can even say, " That's so cheap!" Like a 4 gigabite SONY USB only costs $20! Can you believe that? Then I had to part away from the cheap goodies and took my most dreadful but most worthy flight: my flight to my homeland, Singapore.

I missed the food. I finally meet my sister. The atmosphere of the people around me. That ring of our "singlish" accent lingering in our words. Yes, I'd say to myself before I would faint from my state of oggling, this is what I've been waiting for.

Now I'm going to go out in my Mango graphic shirt and black leggings from ZARA. Its hard not to wear black durng Christmas...maybe I'll find my red Aeropostale top in my luggage....

Merry Christmas! I'll blog soon! bye!

The Branded Backpacker: Day 1, Dreading Planes

It's finally here(thank god)!!! I have packed my stuff: one check-in and my Coach bag as a carry-on. Too young to have something from Coach? Its the 21st century, if you're wondering. Anyway, that was a gift.

Moving on! Tomorrow I'm going to Cali!! Heard its cold there...well, its better than nothing! Although I have to fend for myself to airsickness....Take deep breaths, Nysha. Your plane won't suddenly crash land in mid air while you are having plane food(which I think is synthetic). Or abruptly disappear from the mysterious force of the Bermuda Triangle without a trace. Stop thinking so negatively! Ugh.

The only thing I don't like about planes is that you have to sit for god knows how long. I'd feel like a decaying corpse whose soul is draining away by airsickness! But that flight's only about 7 hours. The one going to my beloved home--its Singapore by the way ;D- is...is...23 hours(or less I hope)!!!! Eveything's gonna be alright. Breathe. Heehooohee. I will sleep...yeah I'll do that. I hope my reward for that is landing safely and I get to see my friends and family--especially my sister-- again!

So there is a bright side to everything. Almost everything. Wish me luck for my flight to California! I'll update you soon, won't I? Bye!

Papa's Unearned Stripes

Did you know I wanted to be a pilot? my dad asks as we watched a show about planes. Papa works in aerospace. He tells me everything there is about the parts of the plane. But he wasn't hired to be a pilot. He sighs at his glasses on the mirror.

Papa used to go to law school. Now he judges Mama's choice of furniture. Someday he would fix a plane. Someday he'll fly one. He explains how planes work his mind working like the gears of Big Ben.

Today he's talking about how having glasses is a nuisance. He says, Don't go on the computer too long. Let them rest or you'll end up like me, he nods to himself staring at the burden he has to live with permanently in his hands. Thats right, he puts them back, I could have earned my stripes without these.



By: Nysha T.

Mother's Day

It was just like any holiday I would wake up in. But this one's different--it was Mother's Day! My eyes suddenly flipped open and I started rummaging through my school bag.

"Where is it?" I whispered to myself. "Found it!" I hugged the rectangular object in silver wrappings.

I found mom emailing her brothers and sister on the computer. How about shoving it into her face? Will that surprise her? No, no I might give her a heart attack. I took a deep breath and said 'Happy Mother's Day!' and gave her a hug.

"Oh! What's this!" Mom said carefully feeling through the wrapper. "Is it a planner? Oh wait! It's a book! Yeah! No, wait. No, no,no," she shook her head, "its a planner...."

I smiled to myself. She will never know.

But that wasn't the end of it. She swiftly opened the present I gave her and she let out a huge sigh, "Oh! For me?" she read the title out loud. I stopped her when she started to read my whole vignette.

After that she displayed at the top of the shelf in our living room. The silver frame glistening proudly under the light of the morning.

We're Never Too Old

I just realized I don't believe in Santa. Not anymore. I mean come on, would you wait for some old guy in a big red jumpsuit to just magically appear in your house to give you what you want? No, right?(Unless you're that kind of person who likes free stuff.)Wouldn't you just get it yourself? You have feet you know!

Sometimes I wonder if people make this up to make children be good. Or maybe Santa does exist its just that he doesn't like me. Or I'm just too...old. Wait. Scratch out that last idea. We're never too old to do anything, aren't we?

Seeing Is Believing

I used to believe in those tales and stories about Santa, unicorns, mythical stuff and the tooth fairy. I remember when I lost my first tooth. I did that regime where you would put your tooth under your pillow and it'll be money the next day. Obviously, it wasn't.

Another time, I stayed up the whole night during Christmas to see if Santa exists. Obviously not.

It was either these mythical beings hate me or they don't exist. Either or, I don't really believe them anymore; because seeing is believing. And I haven't seen them yet.

My Home. My Heart

From Woodlands to Changi

This is the place to be.

With 'singlish', no tourist will understand

'Cuz 'singlish' is our slang.

Orchard Road is like New York

With lots of people bursting out of the cork

On Sundays there in Lucky Plaza, Novena Square,

that's where all the maids went.

Takashimaya, Paragon, Tangs, Wisma Atria

this is where your money's spent

But if you want cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap

Go to Little India, Mustafa

Lions and Merlions

Our mascots

Wheelock Place, ION, Esplanade

places to marvel at how its made

will make your jaw-drop

Kinokuniya, Popular, Borders

filled with miles of books that won't stop

Bengawan Solo, BreadTalk

local bakeries that make you wanna

Eat, eat, eat, eat

Condominiums, Bungalows, Terraces

Semi-D's HDB's

that's where everyone stays

MRT, SBS

Singapore's subways

Laksa, Chicken Rice,

Roti Prata, Satay

Stingray and many more

local food to adore!

This is Singapore.

Multi-cultural. Harmony

This is home.

The lights, the streets, the atmosphere.

This is my heart.

The momentum. The grace. The power

Chameleon Colours

What keeps me writing? Wow, I don't really know where to start. It depends on my mood, my day, my life. Usually, whenever I write, the momentum of the things that happen to me push my writings to many great heights. What I read, what I learn, what I witness, makes all the difference. What I read expands my abilities of writing with more poetic content, imagery, interesting dialogue, summaries....What I learn makes me understand how to write it in the methods I read. What I witness helps me give the poetic imagery(metaphors included) that I have seen with my very own eyes. And without any of these that I have discovered with Mrs. Brown, like the colours of a chameleon, my writing would never be the same.

Letter to a Shopaholic

Dear Kisha,

I know I don't have any authority to tell you this, and you must be loathing this subject--but let's be candid for just this moment, shall we?

Are you addicted to buying new clothes and shoes or something? I know you're only a mortal human being, but don't you have adequate tops,leggings, belts, jackets, shoes e.t.c, in your closet? Don't you ever get enough respite from your unabated shopping sprees--devouring every type of clothing you come into contact with?

You should see mom and dad's aghast faces whenever you send your monthly "bill" (that mostly comprises of indifferent shopping)! One day, when mom and dad don't pay your bills, you might find yourself being evicted out of your home and live in solitude in a hovel you acquired with the only money you have left from your lifetime stint as a fruit seller!

Please heed my advice. If you would like to maintain stable expenditures and not end up as a fruit seller, be astute in purchasing accessories before your bill intensifies again!

P.S This is an assignment for school. If you're reading this Kisha, don't take it seriously!

Sincerely,

Nysha.

Anya Dreams

Anya is the girl with dreamy eyes that stare into space and hands that move like paintbrushes to create masterpieces. The girls in school thinks she's crazy because she almost tried to kill herself with Jania's skipping rope in school and hollered her life wasn't good enough for this world. The teachers in school said being this crazy is stupid. They remember Jania's skipping rope and laughs like the sirens of a speeding police car.

Anya the Dreamer, what do you think about when you stare at the blackboard with your long, sullen face resting on your left arm? And when your hands make graceful moves like those acrobats in the circus you make a plain sheet of paper a priceless piece of art; will you teach me?

Anya--who wishes the world would all be silent--is drowning in the sea of malicious insults and fencing the misery that pierces her heart like the spears of the Indians. Anya--whose Mama left with her grandparents for a job in Australia--cries and cries on the railings outside the fourth floor library in school, her tears sparkling in the clouded sunlight till it falls to the ground, splashing in defeat to the gravity weighing things down.

Anya, do you sometimes wish you could fly out of school, out of the misery you're in? And won't stop till you find your Mama in Australia and stare into the sky with her and your deep set eyes that would watch the sun go up, the clouds moving away, the moon glow, and the stars shimmer. And you won't cry anymore because you have surfaced from the sea and can hear the melody of the birds, the rustle of the winds, and the music of your soul. And your tears would evaporate to the sky without the world thinking you're not worthy of living. You have found where you belong, Anya. Where you could lean on your left arm with your face now covered in the bliss that has been hiding behind your face, without anybody throwing insults at you, and dream and dream and dream and dream and dream, and no one would call that stupid.

By: Nysha T. ;D

My Stubborn Ways

Do you recall a time when you are doing something that you love and you know its going to turn out like how you planned because its your thing? Let's say...sketching a landscape. I bet you do. And how would you feel if someone pitches in and tries to give you more pointers into doing it because they think they're better. You would say you'd think about it right? But what if that person(s) keeps on giving more and more and more and.... You get it don't you?

Would you follow along? I wouldn't. I'm stubborn, well practically. But I'm like that because I don't want to be controlled by anyone or nothing will come out the way it should be.

Underestimating Kisha

Kisha seldom keeps her promises;sometimes she does, and sometimes she doesn't. There isn't any pattern to let me know if she will.

I remember, she promised she would pay me back my two dollars I lent her for the public bus. I never saw my 2 dollars again. I remember, my mom had bought me three belts for my birthday: shiny yellow, black and magenta. Kisha had borrowed my black belt for one of her outfits. Now that belt is missing without a trace.

But like a shooting star that just happen to appear in the sky, she does keep her word. I remember, she promised she would take me to the movies if I was good. I ignored it and went on without behaving. But we still went there and watched Oliver Twist together with her friend. I remember, she promised she would ride with me all of the water rides in Busch Gardens and she did!

One day, Kisha asked me to pinkie swear that when we were older, we both would go to Parsons and study fashion. Now, everyday I would wonder if this one will be broken or kept. Will it? Sometimes the pattern tells me never to underestimate so much things Kisha does. And I'd try not to.

Saffy's Diary

My parents said I should enroll in singing classes to make use of my powerful voice. It sounds pretty neat to me because I do aspire to be a rock star someday. I practice at home with my teacher, Mrs. Madeline, like an addict as the music and the rhythm of the songs I learn enlighten me!

Yesterday, Mrs. Madeline told me that I'm going to have to perform, along with many other students she taught, in a theatre in our town! I'm really excited, but I'm worried too. Mrs. Madeline told me that she was sure that none of us (including me) will not let her down, and that made me a little flustered. What if all of her passion for teaching me goes down the drain? What would happen?

That day seemed so slow...and my worries were intensifying.

When I came to the theatre, my "arch enemy" ,Charlize--who intimidates the rest of us because she thinks she so great(she's not really)--was confronted by Meyline(a friend of mine) as she said something obnoxious to her. My face turned into a grin--serves her right!

Okay,okay! Back to my story,as I was saying I arrived at the theatre and made my debut on stage and I could see Mrs.Madeline's face beaming at the corner of my eye.

I could feel she was proud of me and after my performance, a tall lady approached me and offered a 2 year stint for me to sing in other places.

My life has changed dramatically then.

One of Things I Just Can't Handle

Do you know about people who keep on asking questions? Or the people who can't stand defeat? Yeah, people like that agitate me. Big time.

Sometimes I just want to run away from all of those and never come back--ever; sometimes I want to punch them so hard they would die(I wouldn't really result to violence but you know what I mean... right?).

Why must I be the only one to handle this? There's nothing I can do!

Talk, Breathe, Grow

People walk, people talk. People breathe, people sneeze. People have feelings, people have conscience. What else makes us who we are?

I remember when I was in second grade the people in my class always thought they knew everything. But as we grew older,we learned it wasn't true. Nobody has to score 100 marks on a test everyday--it doesn't matter in the end, nobody has to know how we came on earth, nobody knows what exactly our brain does, nobody is perfect. People realize, people grow.

When we made friends, we had to know who were the ones to hang out with: people you can count on. But I learned there are different types of people with different attitudes: attention seekers, annoying, friendly, insecure, free spirited, perfectionists--many types of people indeed. People are one of a kind. I hang out with these kind of people everyday, I broaden my horizon and get to know more people in life. And I know who people really are--people are people. Unperfect, one of a kind, everlasting learners, yes that's us.