Brunchtime and Scenes From Year Two

First on the agenda is to talk about... brunch. I think I've had brunch about two or three times in my entire life and by "brunch" I really mean a late breakfast and by "late breakfast" I really mean second breakfast. Because who can really go out for breakfast at 10am and not eat anything before? Hello, I am starving when I wake up and I usually get up before 7am.

So, why is brunch so fantastic? Like I said, I've only had it less than a handful of times and yet I find it so exquisitely wonderful that I cannot even form words to describe its exquisite wonder. I think it's a combination of things. A likely part of the reason is because most of us (unless we're rich or unemployed) rarely eat brunch. Ain't nobody got time for that. We're at school or work or uni. Brunch is at 11am, a very abnormal eating time. If you were at work and took a lunch break at 11am, your boss and coworkers would probably be very puzzled. Unless you got there at like 5am or are 89 years old.

Another possible reason is brunch food. Have I already talked about this? I feel like I've already talked about this. Brunch food is a combination of breakfast and lunch. Lunch is often a combination of dinner and lighter lunch fare. Which means that brunch is essentially all the three main meals rolled into one. You want breakfast food? There's the pancakes. You want a full seafood dinner? Here's the lemon and tongs, help yourself. There are no limitations with brunch (except the coin). And I'm like a bird, I want to fly away. Brunch is essentially the most freeing, bird-like meal that has ever existed.

Finally, brunch is a social affair. Sure, people go out for breakfast/lunch/dinner with their friends but a lot of people, I would say the majority on most weekdays, do not. But people never go out for brunch alone (never in the history of mankind. I bet you 1000 rupiah). You just don't do it. Brunch is meant for talking things over with old friends or gossiping with chums or catching up with ex-boyfriends (and then having the sex behind the brunch place after... I'd watch that movie) or taking your parents out when they visit you (strange to juxtapose the sex with the ex with taking the ol' parentals out). You can go out for breakfast alone (excuse me, walk past any cafe or Croissant Express if you want to be all pedestrian and shit and you will see numerous, numerous working men and women sipping coffee and eating overpriced scrambled eggs. Eggs are like $3.50 for 12, guys) but why would you want to go out for brunch alone?

You wouldn't.

And so, that ends my ominous (yet highly logical) thoughts on brunchtime. You may notice that the second half of my title refers to my experiences in year two. Writing about brunch has quite frankly tired me out and I am ever so slightly reluctant to continue. And yet, I will persevere. For you.

When I was in primary school, I would walk to school in the morning with my mum and then she would pick me up at the end of the day and drive me home. My tiny, pipsqueak body often required the driving home at the end of the day because I was so exhausted from learning the difference between "can't" and "cunt."

In year two, my auntie and my older cousin came to visit us for a few weeks. On one day, I got out from class and there they were, standing near the gate and waiting for me. Except this gate was not the gate to the car park. This gate was the gate to the oval (where cars do not park). I was so confused but I was also exhausted for some reason.
"Mum?" I said, my big blue eyes looking up at her (I had blue eyes when I was little because I only turned Asian in year four).
"It was such a nice day today that we decided we'd walk you home instead of driving!" she said, all happy like.

I was distraught.

"What?" I said. "Am I being punk'd?" I looked around for the cameras. There were none. I was disappoint.
"No, dear. We're all walking home together. It's good exercise!"
"But... but..." I said. I really wanted to throw a tantrum. Like, really bad. But I was way too well mannered for those shenanigans. "Fine."

So, we walked home. And throughout those 12 minutes that it took us to walk home, every cell in my body burned with a fiery resentment that rivals the fire pits of Modor. I glared at my mother, my auntie, my cousin. I kicked sand, hoping it would fly up into their eyes and blind them for life. I curled my toes up in my little shoes (that's a lie; I've always had massive feet) and begged God for the strength to not push my family members in front of a passing bicycle.

We got home and I went to my room. Very upset. Very devastated, guys. The walk was over but the scars stayed for a long time. It's been well over 10 years since the event and yet I remember it so very well. And I shall never forget.

J