Tag: photo

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.

Style.

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With more free time, comes greater questions and more anxiety.

I can almost hear people laughing at my silly sentence. Isn’t free time great? You get to do what you are interested in! You get to enjoy life! You get to travel out!

True, but it also means that you have more time on your hands and butt, to sit down and start to properly reflect on the things you have done, have yet to do, would like to do, and the list goes on.

Everyone has different ways of handling free time, I guess mine is just on the other end of the spectrum. I spent alot of time thinking about things, and starting to dig things out, and start to critique my own stuff. The more I see, the more I think…

The more I pick apart my own work.

Everything I do, seems to be insufficient, measured against my own standards. And where the hell does my own standards, stems from? How did I formulate this notion of standards in my own head?

I subconciously lifted my arm to reach out for my phone, and without even flinching – I clicked opened a social media app. I mindlessly scrolled through the images, my eyes being bombarded with different visuals, colors, media, presentation.

At that moment of time, it struck me deep. I measured my own works with whatever that I picked up on social media app.

I am the green-eyed monster, who’s jealous of what others are capable of achieving, and I? I achieved nothing except hoarding thousands and thousands of images in my hard disk that I have shot over the years, many of which didn’t live to see the digital light of the day.

As the people on social media app always says – you got to be confident about yourself, then learn to love yourself. Only then you will shine in whatever you choose to do. Sure, I have no doubts about that advice, I think that’s brilliant advice! But Honey, you forgot to mention how hard it is to build up that confidence with whatever is left getting trampled on by others.

It’s ok, but we can all try.

I looked at the images I have, and I realize that I do not have a consistent style. It can also be accredited to the fact that I am a very moody person, and I shoot according to mood. So all the photos turned out very differently. ( I can almost hear someone going AH SEE EXCUSES LAI LIAO! )

But amazingly to others, they say that I do have a very distinct style, and they should be able to tell that this photo is by me when asked to differentiate.

Ok, perhaps I am not too bad! There’s hope!

Why that photo at the start of this entry? I’ve read Miss Ice Sandwich by Mieko Kawakami, during this short break of mine.

What hit home with me, was how Japanese authors have this way of creating beauty with simplicity. I love it in the way they saw beauty in our everyday life and quirks. The story was simple yet beautiful, and it allows you to rethink your life.

Still water runs deep. Something so simple, stirred something deep inside of me.

Perhaps, just perhaps, we need to learn to just put down our phones, judgement and schedules and enjoy the moment as it is.

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Who cares what style?

At this moment of time, I guess I really don’t quite care.

A day of my life

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Extra holidays are frivolous, so one must spend all the time outside with all the other folks who also didn’t work – says no one ever.

I am really thankful for friends who drive and volunteers to pick me up, to indulge in cafes that are out of reach.

We hit Da Paolo for lunch, this nice quiet cafe next to Botanical Gardens. It was no longer quiet after we entered the cafe.

In the typical fashion of me, I over-ordered. I had Carbonara and a large Latte AND an almond croissant (the last one of the day!). I think my brain registers all eating events as – GO BIG OR GO HOME. I usually end up as GO BIG THEN GO HOME.

I love the almond croissant, the crust, the almond, the custard and everything. I secretly wished that I didn’t polish off the carbonara, so that I can enjoy the croissant even more. Alas, the gluttony couldn’t bare to leave the plate alone.

After too much food, we head to Botanical Gardens nearby to (half-heartedly) walk off all the calories. The weather is sinisterly hot, which explains the clear blue skies. Our walk around the park lasted for approximately 20 minutes.  Botanical Gardens is a beautiful place (when not crowded with 19328478924698234 people having picnics), the scenery is very un-Singapore-ish, and is a good place for an evening stroll with your friends. Or perhaps ponder over our mid-life crisis. Or to have conversations with ourselves (but not too loudly because you don’t want people to call the IMH on you).

Because it was a non-peak day, there weren’t any dogs available to stalk pet. There were alot of screeching kids. We saw people in heels and high slit cheongsams.

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Walked over and saw the swans. All 3 of them, feeding on the attention that the crowd gave.

What magnificent birds! squealed one.

I look on with half curiosity and disdain. I hate birds, and they always seem to know that I have this morbid fear of them and charge towards me with malicious intent.

This one in the picture charged towards us with its wing all spread out. SEE! I told you the hatred is mutual!

Not peace-loving, no chill birds. I was looking at the tortoises ok, I wasn’t even standing near you!

I hate birds.

This is such an abrupt end to an otherwise happy post. I re-iterate that I am happy to hang out with my friend, just not too happy about getting chased by birds.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in concert

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Almost 21 years since the debut of Harry Potter books.

Almost 16 years since Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets movie.

Yet, all of us sitted there, mostly adults mind you, were still engrossed whilst the orchestra played and accompanied the movie running on the screen. It was as though, we all had a common childhood.

A common magical childhood.

We cheered for our houses. Laughed when Dobby kept trying to save, or rather almost accidentally murdering, Harry Potter. Murmured the lines that we kept close to our hearts from the years of watching the movie.

EAT SLUGS MALFOY.

Mudbloods, Half-bloods, Basilisk, Petrified, Enchanted Cars, Slugs, Moaning Myrtle, Crabbe and Goyle, Wild Bludgers, Heir of Slytherin, Spiders, Aragog, Gilderoy Lockhart, Polyjuice Potion, Duelling Club…

So many familiar terms, familiar faces, familiar sounds.

A whole hall of strangers, bonding together momentarily, because of Harry.

The wise words in the books, which struck me again and again, after all this time. Thank you for moulding me into the person I am.

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Indeed, it is about our choices, which makes us unique.

The magical night, left me light on my steps and hungry for the very next Harry Potter series concert.

Next up, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

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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.

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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.