Week 6 - Thursday

Dear diary,

Today I have to write, for today is a day where the gods come hither in their finest garments and polished chariots to unanimously pronounce as a day of jubilation. Why you ask. Because today, my dear friend, today is simply the perfect day.

Hardly a day goes by without constant complaints of sweltering weather and the ever-irritable humidity, nor whinges about the torrid monsoon rains that sweep across the island, washing away the gaeity from the air and turning moods as heavy as its consequential rainclouds. Day by day, we resign ourselves to that fate bequeath upon us as habitants of this little tropical island. However, glimpses of heaven, though infrequent, does shine through, thinly disguised as days like today: A wet, cool and breezy day that doesn't chill and could do nothing else but invigorate and refresh the weariest of minds. A cloud covered sky that seemed to shield the land from the most piercing of the suns' rays, letting through only the mildest of light, a pleasing colour that brings joy to the heart and warmth to the soul. The air screamed freshness and the landscape could only be described as picturesque.

I admit I probably am exaggerating, overreacting, whimsifying, melodramatic, a little bit looney even. Maybe it's just me, but I do enjoy thoroughly a day as such. And today, without any particular reason and rationale, is a day that sq declares a perfect day.

Week 6 - Monday

Dear diary,

Exactly a month from my last post. Didn't have much to write about. You must've missed me I'm sure.

Christmas ended a few days ago, though technically it's supposed to last 12 days ain't it. There's even this song about it... Regardless, I'm now staring at a pile of Christmas cards that should've been sent and delivered but was not. Procrastination had a key involvement in this little "misdeed", but you shouldn't just blame me. I didn't have the addresses of most of the people I'm writing to, which was rather odd when the people I wrote to are people I care about. So I'm insincere they say. Bah, excuses. Nary a care in the world cept for merrymaking, gluttony and whatnots. I beg to differ. I lack the organisational functions of a normal, healthy human male, and that being said, I'm also careless and muddle-headed. Sincerity comes from the heart, not the brain I say, and frankly I have an excellent BPM to show for it.

Fret not though, the cards are, as I speak, or write, or whatever you call it, in transition, and the poor folks waiting for the card that matters most should be pleasantly surprised by Thursday noon. As for the sweet things who couldn't be reached for their addresses in time to partake in this marvellous show of friendship and love, well, there's always next year. And the year after that. And if my calculations are to be trusted, probably 50 more winters before the writer curdles and stiffens. For the other folks that thought they were getting a Christmas card from yours truly, only 2 things to say: 1st, I might have forgotten him/her. Yes, that sounds pretty insensitive and unfeeling but hey, that's life. People always get missed out. Simply contact me and cry buckets and they'll be sure of a card for the rest of their wanting years. 2nd, a person who thought they deserved a card but didn't receive one. Whoopsie doo. If the hint doesn't hit them, they could go on to the next step whereby they actually send me a Christmas card. And throw in a love-you note for good measure.

Christmas didn't have the same magical feel it used to. Maybe innocence is brought along when time quietly slips by. Just wish all my loved ones are staying warm with a hot cocoa cupped in their hands. Yeah, that'd be nice.