Birthday dinner @ PS cafe – Palais Renaissance

Technically it’s not today. But I have to thank the fellas for my awesome birthday. Not that my past birthdays weren’t well-spent, it’s just that they always happen to be on the eve of a school holiday (also not that it no longer isn’t) and this year I’m kinda not in that situation where everyone runs home after the dreaded half day in school. It’s kinda the first time I celebrated with the old pals. It was always another day of August, a day before National day and a day where mum repeats her story of how she almost lost her life for mine. I appreciate all that. Maybe I’m listening because I want to understand, maybe it’s just because it’s the least I could do. Birthdays for children are candies and parties but as I age, it turns emotional. More often than not, it was about a lot of reflecting – of how life has been till now. Rethinking priorities and reliving moments of milestones. Shouldn’t birthdays be a day to party and get away guilt-free? Shouldn’t it be a day you do something really stupid out of a truth-or-dare game only to realize years after how hilarious and youthful you were then? ):


The eight of us ate at PS Cafe. It was my idea and I had a crazy time making reservations at two places because PS is rather pricey. So I was quite persistent with dining in style and I am kinda guilty for it too because my mum said that given that I chose the place, usually in adult’s context it prolly meant I’m giving a treat (I have no idea how that works though). Not only did everyone pay for their own expensive meals, Keith paid for mine. Thank goodness I didn’t order that salad or dessert. Imagine that awkward moment when I fished out a sad piece of 2 dollar note during bill.

Cheng Hsuan (We were in the baby diapers-changing room. HAHA :D)


Posh meals are a dear yet serve as social reminders of what I want from all this bloody schooling. But schooling can only do so much. It doesn’t even deliver the salary directly. Now I understand Sam’s decision to do accountancy. But I suck with numbers so I guess chances are I’ll be poorer than her in years to come. Oh man oh man.


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