So. I think I've forgotten how to write? To start off, I offer you another quintessential teenage version of 'the most unfair thing in the whole wide world'. My mother told me that I need only one baju kurung this year because I don't wear them often anyways (and considering I refuse most offers to go to weddings and all of that, you won't find me disagreeing) but then on the third day of Raya, when I've sufficiently exhausted my stock of baju kurungs (and wore last year's again), she told me off for wearing normal clothes. Hello. Where am I supposed to get that other baju kurung if you only let me buy one? Am I just supposed to wear all the ones from previous years?
Times like these, I wish I would actually grow. Like, shoot up a few inches, gain some weight, whatever.
With Internet connection and modern day technology (and the sheer luck of my gaining an iPod because God knows it would take years to get them around to buying me a laptop) (God forbid, an iPad), Raya wasn't so bad. Well, I wouldn't call it good. Definitely not. I mean, I was in a mood the first day, which dissolved quite readily when we were well on our way to my grandparents' place. Nobody was there when we arrived, though. Just my grandparents and some of my cousins. But about an hour later, the house filled up some and people got back from their visits and we started going places.
True to tradition, there was money, there was food, there were conversations, and as an aside, there were also questions regarding my baju kurung, which looks as contrasting as contrast can get next to my sister's and mother's. And while that may be what normal people call an exaggeration, there's no denying that I didn't really look part of that family. However, I think the pictures we took that morning panned out quite nicely.
I turned into a right camera whore this Raya season. Blame it on my cousins. The twins' camera battery even ran out once. I only got the first batch of photos off of them and looking through them again, it was a lot of wayward makeup and oily T-zones. So rest assured, you aren't getting even a wind of those pictures. But the pictures my sister took, though, in the morning while my hair was still not too flat-ish and my skin was still morning fresh, those I might put in later.
That night, we were supposed to go somewhere but everyone just ended up on their computers anyways. The next morning, we were supposed to go to the cemetery but my sister whisked me and my cousin and some of her friends off for a breakfast of coffee and stuff. We were supposed to go to a lot of places, actually: some of them, we actually got around to visiting, others not so lucky. Like, Izzaty has been on our asses to go around the back houses to take pictures but it wasn't meant to be. Or at least not while I was around. Don't know if they got around to it, like, yesterday or today. It was a pretty good time spent, if I'm being honest. Not too much drama. No drama at all, actually. Until the next morning.
Long story short (because you know that when I'm involved, there is no such thing as a short story), I lost my necklace. And it was a pretty necklace too. I got it at New Zealand and no, I'm not finding any such thing here. So it was a sad affair and I still to this instance blame my Dad for it but no matter. The tears and anger has been let out so today's not the day to ruin all the calm and zen I've been building since. Still pissed off but, like, what can I do? Just waiting for a call. Maybe someone else found it?
So we left Temerloh for Lipis and if I thought Temerloh was the least to-do a Raya has ever been, Lipis was worse for wear. Didn't do much except go around. Here's an interesting fact, because you know if I continue to wax poetic about my paternal hometown, there would be no interesting facts slipped in between there at all: I haven't even so much as opened most of the envelopes I've received, much less counted the money.
And that brings us to today. Stuffed full and came home after listening to podfics on my iPod (because, as I've discovered, there is totally no other way to pass the time in the car) to pizza and my cat. I've missed him. And now, calendar-flipping, I've discovered that indeed, there's four more weeks. Four more weeks to 'buckle up', so to speak, and... 'let's get it on'. Get the study on, I mean.
As for my lifelong search for the spirit of Raya (which started like, two years ago), I've come to the fair conclusion this year that it's food and family. And on better occasions, it's eating good food with family around (regardless of whether or not you know their names). Any altercations slash disagreements can be solved with food. And that, my friends, is the spirit of Raya. The end. I quit. Goodbye.