Tag: thoughts

What about love?

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I have been reading alot recently, soaking in the world that others depict.

A recurring theme in the stories that I have read is about love – the love between lovers, siblings, parent and child, pets and above all, self.

Some had happy endings, others, not quite. Some depicted love as a struggle, identity crisis, habit, understanding. Not one was identical, but nevertheless, they are beautiful and haunting in their own ways. The experiences shared through beautiful writing reminded me that, no one is truly alone in the struggle, and if you are willing to look beyond, there are others willing to accept you for who you are.

(Even though you think that you can be an unlovable monster most of the time.)

It brings hope and calm during the morning rush commute, starting each day with an inject of fresh hope, that perhaps, this world ain’t so bad and tough after all.

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.

Coffee breaks and in between.

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My body clock recognized that it’s time for a caffeine boost, and passed the information down to the cells, rallying them up for a headache.

The mild throbbing at my temples urged me to speed up the pace in seek of caffeine.

The nostrils flared as the smell of caffeine hits its sensors. I made a quick turn to the cafe.

As I stood in front of the cashier, all ready to order cafe latte. My eyes landed on the words – sweet potato latte.

Flood of memories blinded my eyes, and before I can stop myself; I heard my voice speaking up – sweet potato latte please. Hot.

What? No, I meant cafe latte. My mental screams left unheard, as she rang the cashier up and handed me the buzzer.

I held on the to buzzer, inhaling the calming scent of coffee.

Perhaps, this is all but a bad dream.

The buzzer beeped and flashed, reminding me that my dream is up, and my neon purple reality awaits.

As I carried my drink back to a seat, I stared down at the pretty drink. The sweet scent, so familiar and peculiar at the same time.

I held up the cup and took a short sip.

Sweet, like it’s smell. At the very least, it is not deceiving.

Another gulp.

It tastes like fruity pebbles soaked in milk and then strained. Luckily, I like fruity pebbles.

Another gulp.

Silly that I came to a cafe to order a non caffeinated drink.

I watched as the humans walked busily to and fro, rushing towards their destinations. Whilst I lazily grapple with my lack of caffeine induced headache and irritability.

I sat there, silently, observing. Wondering what was going through their minds as they whizzed past where I am seated. What stories will they offer, should I buy them a drink and listen to them talk for an hour?

I wonder if the people who walked past, wondered about what was going through my vacant stares? Are they curious about the strangers they walk past?

Or is it just me, and me alone?

Tick tock. Time’s up, I gulped down the remainder of what used to be a pretty drink, leaving the sweet potato dregs behind.

I stood up hastily, taking one last look at the remains of my coffee break before striding off in an unknown direction.

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.

I feel pretty (not).

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On Friday, I rushed down to the cinemas (alone!) so that I can enjoy the movie that I’ve been anticipating – I Feel Pretty.

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Firstly, it is starring Amy Schumer! Secondly, it talks about self-esteem issues. Lastly, I believe that it is supposedly pushing for the idea that I believe in the most – being unapologetically you wins people over, and not the facade that you put up everyday.

I was sold. I need to watch the movie asap.

I stepped into the cold cinema (can someone please educate me on why is the a/c in the cinema always so blood chilling cold? Was it a feeble attempt to help us burn calories whilst we stuff our face with popcorn?) with a bucket of popcorn.

Amy Schumer plays Renee Bennett, a woman who has low self esteem and is unhappy about her life (or her lack of life). She meets this amazingly beautiful girl played by Emily Ratajkowski, and desperately hopes that she will be as pretty as her – to the extent that she went out in a thunderstorm to toss a coin to make a wish.

The next day, at a spinning class, she hit her head hard and became…delusional, that she became the slim pretty girl she has always wanted to be – warning, stereotype ahead: pretty means having thin thighs, nice ass and great boobs, the icing on the cake is having a face with a chiselled jawline.

She feels good about herself and became very very confident, well, at one point of time confidence is good. Then over-confidence turned her into a douche.

There were many parts of the movie when I thought, hmmm, they could have delved deeper into the topic. But no, it remained a superficially happy movie.

Her friends never bothered to tell her that she looks the same? My friends would have tied me down with a straight jacket and sent me to the mental institute straight away. The moment of realization that she is still the same old her and not who she thought she would be didn’t pan out well, that 10 – 15 mins of speech at the end of the movie wasn’t enough to save the entire movie like I hoped it would. Her friends forgave her for being a douche after that inspiring speech on stage.

There was many times I hoped that they would have explored self esteem and stereotypes further, how a seemingly successful businesswoman has her insecurities, how a stunningly beautiful woman has her own issues as well. Imagine if you allow it to delve deeper, the message sent across in the movie – would have been stronger.

I sat there, defeated, when the credits rolled and the lights on. Not quite willing to believe that this is the end of the movie.

This is a waste of all the talents casted in this show. And lastly, it is a waste of a perfectly good idea and topic that needs to be debated upon – self-esteem, body image, gender roles, stereotyping of both men and women.

Meanwhile, I would just have to deal with the fact that I still don’t feel quite pretty after stepping out of the cinema, and landing on reality.

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.

On my table

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This afternoon, I took a photo of the pile of books on my table as I scribbled on my notebook.

My current reads:

The Zoo Quest Expeditions by Sir David Attenborough (please insert heart in eyes emoji in your own imagination)

and

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (in Chinese – I’ve gotten this a present last Christmas)

I used to beable to sit down for hours (perhaps that could also aid to explain my larger-than desired butt) and just read. I could read and forget about meals, and be in the zone. But sadly, these days, I’ve been fiddling with my phone more than my books.

My pile of books waiting to be read, waiting to be given life, sits in a lonely pile in a box – neglected, and seemingly abandoned.

The inertia is real, and very scary. The amount of guilt that I felt every time my gaze fell on the box is…

I took f.o.r.e.v.e.r to read through half of the book. The younger me would prolly look at the me now in absolute disgust, appalled at the person I’ve became (eh, sorry la. Adulting sucks, or rather I suck at adulting). I used to polish off books so fast, and concocted all these lovely little mini movies in my head whilst I read.

My attention span is now very very questionable and (somewhat) disappointing.

It’s extraordinary how self-obsessed human beings are. The things that people always go on about is, ‘tell us about us’, ‘tell us about the first human being’. We are so self-obsessed with our own history. There is so much more out there than what connects to us.
– Sir David Attenborough

Shucks. I’m self-obsessed too.

Back to the books!

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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Lately, it has been raining.

Sometimes, pouring,

Sometimes, drizzling.

Sometimes, raining cats and dogs and perhaps godzilla.

And the non-stop rain, left a temporary effect on the temperature of our naturally toasty weather. It has been a rather cooling 22-24 degrees celsius for the past few days. It’s like…our entire nation is air-con weather.

Alot others call it sweater weather.

And I? I am just grateful that the weather is cooling after my rashes episode. Cooler weather is gentler on my red rash condition. Less sweat, less rash. Hence, I’ve been walking around in my tees and shorts, much to my amazement and amusement of my relatives – who are all decked in pull-overs, cardigans and….heat tech socks.

But the grey skies…just makes one feel very lazy and unmotivated. The need to curl up in bed covered in warm toasty blankets is real. But the cooling weather, made me wake up earlier than usual, and the dread of sitting on the porcelain throne is very real. Hence I cannot wait for this episode to be over.

Besides, my rash is (mostly) gone.

2018, is off to a really queer start, and I am looking forward to an equally queer journey ahead. As I sit infront of the window, typing out this entry, the sound of the rain drops pitter and pattering gradually fades. The scenery clears up.

Perhaps, it is but time to return to reality.

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.