A Bad Host.

This is the time where visits are made and received. While I do get a kick having my favourite friends and relatives coming to our house -- I simply can't bring the same level of enthusiasm to relatives whom I only see once a year. What do you call them -- the Hari Raya ghosts?

I can't fake it and most of the time I'd find myself retreating back to my room rather than having a chat with them. Thank goodness my parents are such friendly and gregarious folks -- they'd be the ones who hold the fort all day long in the spirit of festivity and good company. I'm not like them, really, and I've come to this realisation a long time ago. How I wish I had an ounce of that convivial gene, but alas I'm pretty much selective in who I make merry with.

In a nutshell, I don't make a good host -- in fact I suck at it.

And unlike other peeps who exude warmth and congeniality at the word go -- with me, you have to know me personally to find out that that I'm really a warm person. It's amazing how my friends still remain my friends after all these years and I really have to thank them for their understanding.