Category: 2weekschallenge

Grateful.

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Someone reminded me to be grateful.

It is a simple concept, but to realistically apply it to your everyday life… …

It is a struggle.

They always say that comparison is a thief of joy. But in this era where you get bombarded by information and visuals left right centre every other minute, the thief creeps underneath your skin, and seeps into your brain. You start to notice the things that others have, whereas you lack. How it seems to be effortless for others, but is a struggle for you.

“你过的人生，却是别人梦幻人生。“

Retrospectively, my life definitely isn’t as bad as what I thought as it to be, when I don’t compare.

I try to be more mindful of my thoughts these days, and spend less time on social media. I post what I wanted to post, checked on others that I care for, and then exit the platform.

I read more, listen to more music.

I write more too. I think the two weeks challenge is doing some good for me. Although on some days I am cracking my head on what to write, but atleast I tried.

I tried before I give up on this place.

That is all that matters, isn’t it.

Maybe.

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For a long long looong time, I’ve always told people that I’m looking for someone who likes me for who I am.

Today, I saw in a letter thanking me “for seeing me for who I can be, and push me towards it. Even though at that moment, I hated it. But I grew to understand why, and I’m glad that you did it, because without you, it’s be impossible to who I am today.”

At that moment of time, I paused. Am I committing an error myself, for not seeing them as who they are, instead of who they can and will be if guided down the path?

Then, could I blame others for seeing the potential in me, and for pushing me towards it? Because, just like her. I don’t understand it at the moment.,,,

maybe…just maybe….

The point.

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I know that sooner or later, I would think about the same issues.

To be perfectly honest, it’s always a cycle. I don’t quite care since I don’t use it often enough – seems a pity that I let go – the more I look at it, the precious it seems (cues my preciousssssssss)- it’s my memories after all – but can memories be eaten – the moments captured can never return – are moments captured truly representative of the moment at that point of time?

I always don’t have an answer to anything, and year after year. I would pay the fees to maintain what I term as my memory (My real memory however largely cannot be trusted). I am buying space on the world wide web to keep memories, that I don’t think is going to matter 10 years down the road.

Every year, when I pay, I have hopes for this place, and hope turns into nothing but a lie that justifies the price that I am paying to upkeep this place.

Alot of times, the real moments are often not recorded through the lens, but recorded through the eyes. The warmth of interaction cannot be captured through the lens. The last thing that ever crossed my mind when I was talking to someone close, was to raise my camera to capture them.

It was like a sacred interaction that shouldn’t be interrupted by the third party.

Alot of images are often intentional, chosen ones are curated.

Sometimes, I don’t truly understand the joy of using the camera anymore. I don’t understand the real intention of expressing anymore.

At this point, I don’t quite see the point of having this place to write anymore.

Bazang.

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While there’s a sad history behind why we eat bazang today, I celebrate for the fact that we get to spend time with our loved ones.

Today’s the first day I saw gong gong’s teenager photo, his original name. I miss him, but the memories get fuzzy as days past.

And that itself, is scary,


변.

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그때부터 다 변했어요.

머리속에 잘 알지만 마음을 이해 못했다. 그래서 바보처럼 미치게 아팠어요.

태양이 떠오를 거예요, 나 더이상 아프지 않을 거예요.

Always choose people, who would fiercely choose you again and again.

Food.

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Anyone who knows me well, knows how much I love food, and how much I can actually inhale in a seating.

So much such that, if I leave food for you, it means that I pretty much see you as part of family, or you’re merely an acquaintance who might be shocked at the amount I eat.

It has been over a year(?), since I last had McSpicy. It’s probably my favorite item on the menu together with spicy nuggets. So I happily convinced my parents to eat junk with me.

In usual fashion, I over order. I want the table to be filled with food. To me, food equals to love, and for me to put food on the table, it means I’m putting my love on the table.

I want it to be overwhelmed with love.

A blur.

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My days recently had been a blur. Yet my heart remains warm and fuzzy because of the love and kindness that people have shown.

Perhaps, that’s more important.

「那些不起眼的小日子。」

Reflections.

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Look at me


You may think you see
Who I really am


But you’ll never know me


Every day
It’s as if I play a part

Now I see
If I wear a mask
I can fool the world


But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show


Who I am inside?

Day.

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The days have been lazy.

I’m either exercising, overdosing on caffeine and biscuits while reading, or on the couch re-watching films.

It is sobering to realize what being an adult does to you and your understanding. Re-watching old films seems so…foreign. I wonder if my memory betrays me. Sometimes, I do wonder if our experiences shaped us, or merely ripped off the rose-tinted glasses off our nose bridge.

Either way doesn’t sound quite ideal.

Reading became a route to escape from reality, so I read often, and read through books rather quickly (mainly because rom-coms are really easy to read, and digest, and very predictable). Reading Obama’s Promised Land, as a buffer before I return to reality, chock full of undone work, never-ending emails (please mark XX date in your calendar), and never ending problem solving (can you find a way to help with this).

That aside, I have been clearing books at the speed of a book a day (ABAD). The next journey I am about to embark on is Kazuo Ishiguro’s Klara and the Sun. Not a rom-com for sure, so I guess I will take my time with it.

I threw out my kindle this holidays, and is more than grateful this gift of reading from a dear friend. A perfect reader for me at the moment, and up to this day, I’ve only charged it twice.

Saviour for a person who has officially ran out of space to hoard new books. It connects to the local library via Overdrive, and the library catalogue is pretty updated, and there’s plenty to read.

The world is a harsh place to be, keep safe.

Most importantly, stay alive.

Cotton Candy.

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I used to think that clouds are like cotton candies in the skies, and had the ridiculous thought that if I ever took the plane, I can just open the windows and taste the clouds.

It was when I grew up when I realised (after a certain documentary) that it is the perfect recipe for an air disaster. Imagine this little tyrant trying to break the window pane of an aircraft under the pretext of tasting the clouds.

The only thing that made clouds different from cotton candy, in my young mind, was that cloud gets angry then gives us rain! Cotton candy is always happy and disappear if there’s water. I quote my younger sassier self, “Pretty, sweet but also useless kinda cloud.”

I like clouds. They are like our imagination, it can be anything you wish for it to be.

They are like human, charged with emotions. Sometimes, sweet and naive. Sometimes, dark and murderous. Sometimes cheeky, other times nonchalant.

Sometimes, they even disappear without a trace, leaving the blue sky oddly lonely.

I find myself lying on the floor often, looking at the skies, staring at the clouds, willing it to speak to me. Silence, engulfed me, then spat me out, whole.

The wind howling, the skies grey, the clouds dark.

And this, is another story for another day.