Of Ice, Soot And More

It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you’re up at 9:30 AM, half asleep and stumbling in cotton pyjamas and your university’s thin cotton CS Frosh tee that has somehow turned into your nightdress top while the sun shines bright outside and streams down the window onto your now seemingly out of place Christmas tree.

It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas spirit when everyone around you is in their most hideous Christmas sweaters (and I mean sweaters that scream Christmas with lights and sound to go with it, probably) and you’re in a cotton shirt and everyone thinks you’re an alien for not feeling cold in the slightest.

It’s at that point that you take things into your own hand to make yourself feel Christmassy.

You do everything from dressing like a candy cane to coming one step short of volunteering to be Santa and climbing up the chimney for a sweep.

Sooty.

But Christmas eating is such a miraculous mess that I have no idea how they feed kids the idea of someone who’s been holidaying for a few weeks and feasting on sugary treats coming down a narrow chimney wearing white and red—white! As the French say, quelle horreur! How will Monsieur Santa ever get his nice new white clothes clean?

(Out of nowhere, you hear a chime and a jingle. From out of the chimney somewhere nearby or out of your hot cocoa, whichever is more convenient, a well dressed woman steps out, curiously enough, she is immaculately dressed for someone stepping out of your chimney that was last swept—two weeks–? Two… years!? Honey, you haven’t cleaned the chimney in two years?

Anyway, the woman steps out and smiles a dazzling, Happy Dent white smile (why a woman you ask? I’m casting!) and asks you, “Are you having trouble with stubborn stains? Is the soot on your duds resistant even to Santa magic?

What you need is the all-new Tide Holiday Home Magic TM. It’s E-Zée Clean formula TM makes sticky stains vanish! And with its Holiday Special Peppermint fragrance, you’ll be smelling like Christmas all season. So go on up ahead, climb that chimney!” And the woman nods to Santa who sticks a shoulder up the chimney and the camera puts him in the background and focuses on you. Weird grunting noises follow. You call out, “Santa?” All you hear in response are muffled sounds. Clearly, Santa’s mouth is stuck up there too. The lady puts a hand to her face but then shrugs and turns to the camera, flashing her pearly whites as she makes a last pass at the camera. Tide TM Holiday Home Magic TM, peppermint. Perfect for your holidays.)

… where was I?

Right, the Christmas spirit. It’s really not that interesting a story. I played Santa for my little cousin without actually going up the chimney. I basically wrapped his presents and ate his cookies.

Doesn’t that count more towards being Santa than dressing up and sitting in a maple while pesky little smart alecs pull on your fake white beard?

But I’ve learnt through an hours-long gift wrapping tenure that present wrapping is a socially constructed nightmare.

What will X think about that awkward fold sticking out the side?

My family shouldn’t care about my crappy wrapping, should they?

*crunching sounds follow as you proceed to cover everything up in a crinkled newspaper*

No, really.

Darn those pesky kids who simply will RIP the paper open and will never the sheer hours gone behind this five square inches’ beautification…

DARNN SOCIETY!!

It can kind of get intense.

But I guess at the end of the day, it still is nice to see people so happy and excited to rip open their presents (yes, even the ones who absolutely destroy some quality art of a wrapping sheet) and enjoy their gift.

Just don’t mention that I said that, because I’m an icicle.

Anyway, I don’t feel cold, but a lot of other people do, so keep warm, and have a merry Christmas! (Or a day off, at the very least.)

As snug as that.

It Is Time!

If I have anything to say for myself with regards to my prolonged and mysteriously silent absence, all I can say is that I was frozen in time. I’m not even kidding. If midterms weren’t time consuming enough, check this out: 

This is the definition of perfection (ignoring the fact that my hands have frozen just like the rest of me).

I can’t complain about the cold when going outside is this rewarding! 

In other stories, Merry Christmas already. If I can get myself out of bed by then, I’ll be amazed with myself. I went to bed at 4:45 AM last night questioning why I even bother trying to sleep. 

But then again, it wasn’t too bad a day either.

Please ignore the mess. My roommate’s getting better at doing that. 

I can’t wait for December. I can’t wait for finals to end. 

And while your mercurial and unpunctual writer waits…

Scratch that, I’m just waiting for a decent hour tonight so I can go to bed. On Maslow’s pyramid, I’ve dropped to the underground levels where the Pharos were buried. 

Which basically should translate to only so much: I’m underground 😉

Until the next time I surface for breath!

Yaletide

Christmas has come and gone

And I never knew what was going on

Until the next day’s dawn

When I looked up to see a purple sky

Then realised Christmas passed me by

Chemistry textbook kept me warm and dry

Before me lay a blank sheet

With an exclamation point that said incomplete

Forget Yuletide, I had a deadline to meet

Forget Yuletide in favour of Yaletide

Essay screen be your bride until those eyes have cried

With the old year my last reserved of sleep too may have died

But that’s alright

For there’s a friend in the still, slick black they call the night

Although the clock wouldn’t agree quite; what a sight

Officer, I hope this essay keeps you warm at night

… And an old, abandoned Chemistry textbook squeals with all its might…

Never mind

Life on rewind

Except rewind may bring back all the sleep we’ve left behind—

Coffee on my mind–

Coffee for two:

For one, with some sugar and a little hot

For the other, a charger plugged into a slot

For which the payment is a thought

… In the corner, an old, abandoned Chemistry textbook is left to rot…

But it will have its day (tomorrow)

Have the last say

And the last word will be chemistry’s

Specifically, on page five seventy three

And you may pick the best flowers for me…

But tomorrow.

For today, drown in the season’s greetings all around

Be happy, truly experience the consequence of sound

The click of laptop-typing ought to provide a lovely background

And if I don’t make it, we’ll say I tried

But till then, greetings for Yaletide.

(And an old abandoned Chemistry textbook slowly cries… andante.)

Cranberry Soda

It isn’t the holiday season until you’ve created a new weird combination by mixing perfectly normal food prepared by someone else and claiming credit for it, and then enthusiastically shoving it down everyone’s throat.
Heck, with you as excited, chances are, you’ll get a super excited response from them in the form of a throw up. But oh well, guess yoghurt and pasta isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

This time, it was cranberry soda. Just mix cranberry juice lying around in the fridge with Sprite. Somehow, I claimed credit for it!
But with the sparkling bubbles and dark red liquid, I found it quite symbolic of Christmas.

After messing around a bit with juices myself, I took it upon myself to treat everyone who comes home with a cuppa cranberry soda. Of course, the only ones heading my way were mum and dad practicing weightlifting with their grocery shopping.

It actually went better than I’d expected. Their cups were in the sink before I could realise it… I mean, I do realize that could either be because keeping it too long would have it lose all its fizz, or that they gulped it down like a nasty medicine shot…

Got the best reaction from my little sister though. She hates fizzy drinks anyway. I’d have got a money shot had I a camera on me then!

Anyway, ’tis the season where you can momentarily forget that there’s a truckload of integration and semiconductors and benzoic acid that lies waiting (at least for me), so grab the opportunity, eat what you like, sleep, read, blog, and then INTEGRATE!!

Well, till I blow a fuse then.
Happy holidays! (Because we all deserve ONE day off.)