Insert a witty line.

I love the fact that December is my favourite month of the year. It is the month of christmas get-togethers with friends and that christmassy atmosphere of retail madness. December is when I finally turn a year older - December 31st, shamelessly detailed gift list will be up sooner than you can amex. I love the fact that December is my birthmonth, similar to say, birthstones, somehow I've always identify December as my month. As though if I were a month on the calendar, I would be December. Or if I was from Hong Kong and I had to choose an English name, I'd be December Ho Suk Mun, or something.

And also because December is the last month of the year. There is this superstition I used to believe in, like how the good and bad year alternates. I used to dread ending a year I thought was good, because then I know the following year would be a bad one. Perhaps it started with the year my great grandma died when I was in Primary 5. That year was a bad one, I thought. Mother Theresa died. Princess Di died. Those years were bad. I think it was the same year they both did, correct me if I am wrong. It was pretty consistent for awhile until an aunt died on a good year. No, I do not judge the goodness of a year just with deaths.

I supposed those bad years are the ones that I felt more emotionally so than others, and not in a good way either. Maybe these 'bad' years were the difficult ones that forced me to confront my demons and I refused. I don't know. Or these are bad years when I am extremely unlucky. Or the beginning of teenage social awkwardness. Angsty hormones. Bad grades. Bad friends. Bad relationships. And sometimes it was the year when disasters happen and you watched more news than you're supposed to. I gave up believing in that superstition because I could not clearly define a 'bad' one. I do have 'good' moments during these bad ones.

If I had still believe, I supposed this year was a bad one. I guessed it is just a little hope for a better year the next.

*

My baby sister had her braces removed last week, just in time for her school's graduation night. I was flipping through the photos on her camera when I realised how much she take after our mother. My grandma showed me her photos from her younger, glamourous days and I remembered how much she looked like mum, or rather, how much mum inherited grandma's features.

*

Anyway, won't be updating for awhile. I'm off to Shanghai. Zhai Jian!