Hello, 2018.

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Oh hey, it’s 2018.

Whilst many are on the “new year new me” BS, I took a step back and start to wonder, how would I want my 2018 to be?

Because to be perfectly honest, nearly a week into 2018…I still feel very 2017, 2016, 2015…

To me, it feels like any other day.

I don’t feel particularly special, or that I have aged (atleast not visibly – I hope), nor do I feel the fresh hope that a new year brings.

Like any other day, I slept, and I woke up, then I proceed to do the things that I usually do. I sincerely, do not get it, and was rolling my eyes in my mind, when people are asking me what were my new year resolutions.

Resolutions.

That faraway word. That big word, what I loved using when I was much younger, deluding myself at the start of every year that I will follow through with them the entire year (but I never did, not a single one of them have been accomplished). Resolutions.

I simply replied, to exist, to read, and to sleep more.

I know many people have issues with the word exist. It gets them started ALL THE TIME, just like how people who abhors durians react when I shove it in their faces. Existing is important, especially to those who matter to you.

Spend time with yourself, build yourself, love yourself, then love others.

Someone who was once a close friend, once told me – you don’t help others, in hope of the kindness being returned. Help, simply because you want to, not because you need to, or wants good karma. It is simply the heart of wanting to be kind, that makes it precious. It is in us, to choose to be kind.

The similar rule applies to love. Love unconditionally.

2018, I guess, I could learn to love you, and perhaps, myself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live to eat. Eat to live.

Recently, the weather has been horrible. It rains when I need to get out of bed to go to work, then proceeds to burn me with it’s love when I need to get home.

I am beginning to believe that the weather now follows the lyrics of Katy Perry’s song: You are hot when you’re cold, You are yes when you’re no.

You know I am sick, when I start quoting Katy Perry to describe the weather.

I have been coughing non-stop for 2 weeks, and been suffering from indecisive fever. I miss the sleep, I miss the food.

Above all, I miss all the ice cream that I am now not allowed to have because it triggers my cough.

My cough hates me.

My cough likes to eat congee and soupy stuff, drink hot tea and warm water. Things that I sometimes eat and drink to….y’know…be healthier.

This long battle with cough also made me realize that…I live to eat. I now look at my meals with disdain, and with each bite, I pray that the cough would be gone. So I can down that ice cube laden drink to calm the fire that has been ignited with the amount of hot food and drinks I’ve been drowning in the past weeks. (note: I know that this is a run on sentence, but I think that it is needed to justify the amount of desperation in me)

I’ve tried to live vicariously through the food photos that I’ve taken in the past, but I realize that it does nothing but to crave for food more.

Oh, I am not allowed to eat chicken, because it seems to induce phlegm, and I don’t fancy the feeling of being chocked to death by phlegm when I am sleeping.

Many weeks ago, I stuffed my face with food.

  1. BAKCHORMEE

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Bak Chor Mee. Laden with all the meats. Laced with Chilli.

Apparently the trick with all these famous BCM store is to…go at odd timings. No one goes at 4p.m to have dinner. Because it’s too early to have dinner, too late for lunch, too filling to have as tea break.

So I can sit down and have the luxury of having a bowl without a queue.

The Meepok so springy. I like. I want to eat BCM.

I realize that I make a lousy food critic. I have a lack of vocabulary when it comes to describing food. But it’s good! Looking at the picture makes me drool.

*note: I just swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

BCM from Upper thomson, next to Udders.

2. Thai Food

Coconut milk and chicken boiled together as a savory soup. As you can tell, it was good, BUT I WAS VERY CONFUSED. Because it tastes like…bobochacha but savory and with chicken.

I am very easily confused. But I eat food that’s good.

Grilled pork neck is good too! I know the plating looks bad. But who cares because I am there to eat the food and not to eat the plating.

We inhaled a plate of kangkong too. This was post BCM, so it’s enough to tell that the food is damn good, because I will never bother to stuff my face when I am already semi-full.

Let me give you a hint: this is in sunshine plaza, and it’s next to Merely ice-cream place.

Why is this piece of information important?

it brings me to the third food place.

3. Merely Ice-Cream

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I love ice cream. I planned my food route so that I can end up somewhere near a good ice cream place so that I can legitly go “Oh! There’s an ice-cream place nearby! Let’s go get some dessert to wash the dinner down!”

Except that it isn’t coincidental. I planned it. HAHAHAHAHA.

Merely is always very very generous with their ice cream scoops. The two gigantic scoops were mine.

I don’t share ice cream. Blasphemy. Get yours.

Merely is at Sunshine Plaza, please leave me some ice cream thanks.

Life. Stories.

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Bangkok, Thailand.

As I ran in through the closing doors of the airport rail, I was greeted by this sight. I sneakily took a picture of this moment.

No matter where I went, the same subway moments strike me again and again. Everyone looks so connected, yet looks so…far, distant and disconnected at the same time. Together and disconnected, so I say.

Somewhere through the journey, I can’t help but wonder, what is on their mind? What is their story?

When I was young, I’ve always wanted the ability to read minds, because I truly believed that everyone of us have a powerful story to share. Behind every smile and tear, there is something that others couldn’t quite fully understand.

I feel you, but I truly don’t feel on the level that you do.

As I grew up, I learnt that the thirst of wanting to knows how others feel or what they are thinking – is called kaypoh. If you put it in better sounding terms, I empathize! But I’ll admit that I am more of the kaypoh type. I love it when people share their stories and feelings with me. More often than not, I would be the silent listener.

I don’t judge (outloud), and I don’t offer advice, because I realize that these 2 things are the things that people need the least when they approach me.

The listening ear indeed.

Sharing of stories, forms a true momentary bond between the speaker and listening. The unmistakable closeness. It is also due to the exact same reason, that, if given a choice, we would speak to strangers instead.

Stripped of the background, names, familiarity, we are nothing more than just humans. Humans with nothing attached to us. We have got nothing to gain, nothing to lose, hence we speak with our hearts and soul.

The easiest and often honest conversations always happens with strangers you just met. That auntie in the coffee shop, the grandma sitting on the benches, the uncle puffing his lung sacs away…

After the conversation, the bond breaks, and you are never to see them again. You carry on with you the wisdom, the lessons behind the conversations, to in turn, create your own.

Life. Stories.

痛。

她,隔着厚厚的一层外套,不停地搔痒。

搔啊搔啊。

“不要再抓了!怎么了?事物敏感吗?过敏吗?”我皱起眉头问道。看着她永无止境地搔痒,搞到我的皮肤也开始蠢蠢欲动。

她,顿了顿,笑着问我要不要看一看。她把那层厚厚的外套脱下,一双手臂上一道道长短不一的伤疤,暴露在强烈的阳光下。

好刺眼。

那些密密麻麻布满整条手臂,深浅不一的伤疤。

我默不作声,因为,我不知道该怎么回应。她,见状,开心地笑了。

她把袖子卷上,让更多曾见不得光的伤疤,吸收满满的阳光。太阳这么猛,却怎么都无法让失温的心暖和起来。

“为什么?”

“我每一次看到血从我身体流出时,我才意识到,其实,我是活着的。”

“为什么?”

“皮上的痛,会好。血,一下子就停了。可是,内心里的痛,好了又再撕裂,好了又再撕裂。一次比一次更痛,一次比一次更难结巴。一次比一次更心灰意冷。”

她抚摸着手上凹凸不平的伤疤,表情淡然地回复道。

“你让我看到之后,有更快乐吗?”

“快乐?”

“对,快乐。”

“你知道吗?有一种感觉比快乐更具感染力。”她,站了起来,穿上外套,准备离开。

“什么?”

“那个感觉名叫-痛。”

 

The magical thing about food

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Japan is an amazing country – chock full of polite citizens, clean and green, AND AMAZING FOOD.

It’s not just freshly prepared food that is out-of-this-world amazing, even pre-packaged ones. They come in all sorts of bizarre flavours, and lastly, seasonal flavours.

Seasonal flavours are often, amazing, and some as rare as that pokemon that you have been chasing around for (perhaps its end of the season). So, when you chance upon that wild seasonal flavour, take out your pokeball I mean wallet/purse and just purchase it. Do not walk off smugly, thinking that you’ll see it again.

More often than not, you do not see it again (maybe it’s just my luck).

After returning from Fukuoka for 2 weeks, I finally opened my final Jagabee. Admittedly, other than the 4 words 期间限定, I don’t know what flavour I’m getting, because i cannot quite figure out what the picture infront is trying to portray.

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What I do know, is this is going to be potato chips with skin still on, and I’m sure it will be glorious and breath-taking.

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Look at them, all ready to be devoured by me.

Japan, you are doing this all on point. I don’t know what I’ve bought, but I LOVE the surprise (though I still can’t figure out what I ate – but it’s TOTALLY OK). Crispy potato, one fry at a time. I wish that the cup will magically refill itself when I can see the bottom in entirety.

How do I live up my name, when there’s nothing to hiam.

Go out there, and get surprised!

 

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她 ,坐在我的前面。

她,和每个人一样,都在低头滑手机。手机上显示着,一对情侣在IG上晒恩爱的图片。

那,很平常。

我撇开头,看着窗外的风景,那,模糊不清的风景。窗外下着滂沱大雨,大力地拍打着玻璃窗,似乎想要提醒坐在车内的人们-你们有多么幸运!看看窗外的人们,他们撑着那把没用的伞,任由风雨摆布着。

外头的颜色,好似瞬间被吞噬,只剩下黑,白,灰。

我瞥了前方的她一眼,却发现10分钟里的她,世界静止了。她手机上仍然是她和他,但是,是不同的她。她的指尖按压着屏幕,让屏幕一直亮着,让这两个人不停地在眼前打转。

看着看着,连我也开始屏着呼吸。

十分钟又过了。

她,终于把指尖移开。

两人的脸庞,开始暗淡。

最后,终于被黑暗吞噬。