screens and dandelions

She smiles to herself as she watches another heart-warming video of a soldier coming home. She gives a small snort as another meme appropriately describes a friend's story. She rolls her eyes as another PPAP parody blares out of the speakers on her phone.

And after what seems like an endless conveyor-belt of stories on her Facebook news feed, she finds herself looking at something she already saw, and realises that she has been on Facebook for way too long. With two clicks and a press, she finds herself on Snapchat.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Her thumb mindlessly wades through hours of Snapchat stories, documented in noisy clubs, hipster cafes and college campuses. Her eyes take in frame after frame of badly-taken food photos, pretty faces of girls with dog snouts on them and distorted facial expressions. She puts filters on her own face, and amuses herself.

And soon enough, with two clicks and a press, she has wandered into the world of blue, blue Twitter. She scrolls through hundreds of mini blog posts that seem to amuse, offend, and interest her all at the same time. She taps on the little hearts, inviting a burst of red to symbolize her approval for a friend's funny thought. But as the swish of the timeline reveals zero new tweets, she moves on.

She teleports to Instagram, the vast world of visual images, moving and non-moving. Perfectly edited and symmetrical, she indulges in pictures of architecture, art and culture. And the food pictures, oh! What a stark contrast to the grainy cuisines on Snapchat. Other girls sweetly tucking their hair behind their ears, looking down at the ants on the gravel, being photographed by a compliant boyfriend admiring her beauty in a square frame. She wonders if she will ever experience the same thing.

Then a breeze moves across her face, and the voice of her baby brother chimes: "Look! Look what I found!" He holds up a bright, white dandelion, a brilliant grin plastered across his rosy cheeks.

She smiles, sets down her precious screen, and joins her brother in the warm, sunny backyard.

"That's a dandelion!" she tells him.

*

prayer.

God, 

You hear my pleas for change

the thoughts becoming strange

i long to turn the page

of memories engraved

God,

poison and toxic build

tension, bitterness, guilt

i want my soul refilled

align me with Your will

God,

save this soul from sorrow

for the sake of tomorrow

Your light i will follow

my heart sinks although hollow

God,

Your will, not mine, be done

to Your eternal love i run

may i emulate Your Son

in His death, all battles won

God,

i rest in Your embrace

grace me with Your grace

wipe the tears off my face

as i live through these days

amen

bubbles and sunshine

She takes a deep breath as she picks up her pen, all ready to let her thoughts flow. A short story is brewing, taking form in her busy brain. It is threatening to spill out onto lined paper. The empty journal is hungry, thirsty to be soaked with the black ink from a Faber-Castell pen.

"A sad story. That gets people real good."

 She is going to write a sad one. One with dramatic descriptions, a long-winded story line and an epic punchline. She is going to make herself cry with this story. 

She starts to write. She pours every sorrow she has into make-believe characters. She digs up past hurts and bitterness, only to be buried again in fiction. Arguments, tears and death takes place in her created universe. Flourishing entrances, dramatic exits. You can almost hear the symphony and its mourning.

But then she stops. Her pen hovers over a dying mother. She thinks twice, thrice, four times. The world has enough sadness, does it not?

With a rude scratch, the pen flies across her precious storytelling. It is now null and void, invalid. Officially unfinished.

"Maybe I'll write happiness instead." 

And so her pages begin to fill up with bubbles and sunshine.

*

8 Types of Close Friends

We all have close friends. I believe the people in my life are close to me in different ways. So here's some of them:

1. Passion Discussion
This type of close friend shares a favourite something. Be it a TV series, a K-pop band, a hobby, or a talent, this is the friend that you will fan-girl with. It may not even be hysterical or fanatic. Some of these passion discussion friends carry out meaningful, intelligent conversations about something you both are truly passionate about, like a field of study or a favourite non-fiction author.

2. Once in a Blue Moon
Ah, this close friend. The last time you heard from them was... six months ago? But one of your birthdays roll around, the annual phone call takes place, and BAM, you find yourself on the phone for the next three hours. It is during this phone call you start to find out that your friend's leaving for university in three weeks, got into a relationship a month ago and crashed her car just last week. But there's all this love and familiarity, so this kind of close friend is pretty fun to have, too.

3. Sick of Yo' Face
Seriously, you see this person every single day. You literally have the same schedule as this friend, and you most likely are their neighbour too. You grew up with this friend, probably went to the same kindergarten, and your parents are best friends as well. You are SICK OF THEIR FACE, and they most probably know everything about you only because you see them so much.

4. Kind Of But Not Really
This is the friend who is invited to your birthday party (and vice versa), gets you a birthday card, wishes you at 12am. You guys give each other Christmas presents, you all hang in the same gang, and other people associate you guys to each other. But... what is this friend doing currently? Studying? Studying where, and what? Nope, not sure. Wait, she's working? Close friend... kind of, but not really.

5. Philosopher
Mmm, this is the friend who chills with you having late night conversations about the existence of humanity. This person questions your very identity and challenges you to dream. Your friendship is based on deep conversations and crazy ideas, but you have absolutely no idea what they did yesterday.

6. Accident & Emergency
ALERT. PERIOD EMERGENCY. This is your go-to friend. Stained your pants? This friend's getting a text from you. In the fitting room and not sure which one fits you best? This friend's getting a ton of pictures of you wearing three different sizes of the same dress. Forgot to bring money? This friend's gonna have to dig out their wallet. Oops, sorry, A&E friend.

7. Online
Ah, the classic close friend of the 21st century. You talk to this friend for days on your online platforms. WhatsApp messages, Facebook posts, Twitter mentions... you name it. Your Snapchat streak with this person is off the roof, but, honestly, there's really nothing much to say once you see them face to face.

8. Doing Stuff
And finally, there's the doing stuff friend. The one who you always find yourself hanging out with. Shopping? This friend's right there. Watching The Maze Runner? Yup, watched it with this friend. Gotta buy some groceries? Yeah, this friend's probably there looking for some milk and cheese. Need to grab a coffee? This friend's gonna be ordering one for you.

And of course, the best kind of friend is the one you share passions with, talks with you for hours on end, sees you often, challenges you to be your best, is always there in emergencies, will hit you up for an online chat once in a while and also does all the mundane, everyday things with you. It's hard to find these special people, but when you do, hold on to them. Hold on tight.

when I was 8.

When I was 8, 18 was everything. 18 was the age I would be treated as an adult. 18 was the age glorified by the media, by tradition. 18 was between 16 and 21. It was the official end of childhood and the beginning of probationary adulthood. You could still have fun at 18. But you could have adult fun if you wanted. And no, that does not mean shady things. I meant adult fun like museums, road trips and dinner parties.

When I was 8, 18 seemed like a far-off matter.

When I was 8, 18 would be the time I know what I was supposed to do in this world. 18 would see me in a big, fancy university, studying with geniuses, lugging around large textbooks and discussing serious, grown-up things with professors in round glasses and grey, Einstein hair. These professors would be wearing white lab coats, all the time.

When I was 8, 18 seemed to be a fascinating world of socializing, parties and friends. No, I knew at 8 years old that I would never be one of them, clubbing their days away and drinking beer. But I did imagine at 8 that 18-year-old Jess would have a respectful, honourable but distant relationship with her family. Of course, Hollywood said so, right? At 18, you moved out. At 18, you had your own car, your own apartment, and definitely no parental supervision. What's not to love? 18 seemed like a darn great time.

When I was 8, 18 was the time where I would grow out of Bible stories. Stories about Noah, Abraham and Moses would be a vague, distant childhood memory. My parents singing "Jesus Loves Me" as a sweet lullaby would be stored away in a warm, fuzzy treasure chest at the back of my mind. The nights I spent writing Scripture verses in my little "memory verse" notebook at 8 years old would be a piece of cake compared to the science and math formulas I knew I had to memorize at 18.

But then, 18 happened to me this year.

18 sees me in university; at least that part is true. 18 makes me realize that I've advanced further in studies compared to my peers. Yet 18 has put me in humbling situations again, and again, and again. I did not meet professors with grey hair and white lab coats. Instead, I meet lecturers who are filmmakers, linguists and doctors. I meet lecturers who are activists, believers and single parents. I meet real-life people. And boy, do I learn a lot from them.

18 brings me close to my family. 8-year-old Jess loved her parents. 18-year-old Jess loves, respects and admires her parents more than ever. 8-year-old Jess played with her brother. But 18-year-old Jess shared thoughts, had debates, held conversations and conveyed deep feelings with her brother. 18-year-old Jess lives with her family, eats with them every day, and even works with them -- and it's ever so amazing. So warm, so loved, so secure. A huge part of me dreads leaving home one day.

And finally, 18 grows a faith in me I could never have imagined. 18 helps me to understand the importance of Noah, Abraham, Moses and their heroic stories. 18 still sings "Jesus loves me, this I know," because it's true. And 18-year-old Jess is ever thankful that the Word of God remains in a deep memory that is difficult to get rid of. 18 is a year of spiritual growth, a year of gratitude and a year of taking my faith seriously.

When I was 8, I imagined 18 to be full of knowledge, freedom and self-reliance.

But when 18 came around... 8 was proven wrong.