Tag: thoughts

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.

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。

Curated

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Have you ever wondered, how curated everyone’s life is on social media? Not just the celebrities, but your friends, your relatives…

and you.

Are you guilty of curating your life too? Are you guilty of glamouring your photos and captions, so that yours is comparable with others?

Some days, when I tap on the app, and all the different images starts bombarding on the retina of my eyes. Woah, she’s diving! So cool! Wah…he’s in Europe right now – Envy! The food looks so yummy.(Or styled and edited to look so good – edibility each sold seperately.)

Everyone is so unique, and having the time of their life.

What about me? ole me?

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While everyone is out there playing and enjoying (or I presume that they are). I’m actually stuck at home, feeling small and miserable. geeking it out and not feeling apologetic.

I don’t know why are we trained to believe that if we are not out there, doing something new and innovative, hanging out with friends – we are wasting our time moping at home, and that is frowned upon.

Imagine the numerous frowns that I’m about to subject myself to when I declare myself as a homebody. Sure, I have days when I wished that I can travel the globe without a care. Catch the sunrise every morning, without having to consider if I would be late for work. Catch the sunset every evening, preferably not from the windows of my workplace.

Like any other responsible human being on the planet, if you do realize it by now.

I work.

After I work, I’m too pooped to – even meet anyone, form a coherent sentence, hold a somewhat intelligent conversation with anyone.

I just want people to leave me alone.

I digress but now I’m at home, skin spotted with angry looking red rashes from food allergy, as I stared at the itchy inflamed skin, I can’t help but to feel maligned. I didn’t even eat any prawn, how on earth did all these happen. Away and alone, I do what I do best.

I read and I pop bubbles.

Processed with VSCOcam with hb1 presetAccurate caption: I ITCHY. I ANGST.I SQUEEZE DIE DIS BUBBLE.

DSC_5244esAccurate caption: SQUEEEEEEZE! AND POP!

IMG_7250_2esAccurate Caption: I can’t pop bubbles, read, turn pages and take photos at the same time.

I kid.

The Kinfolk Home is a good read for those who are looking to decorate their new home or seeking interior design inspiration. Every home, comes with a story. This is what it should be, because…

Home, is where the heart is.

Oh Bralettes

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After that nightmare with bralette, I stopped staring at bralettes. I’m secretly openly bitter over the fact that, I am, perhaps not suitable to wear bralettes. condemned to see all the pretty people indulge in that bralette craze.

I’m in such a mutually exclusive relationship with bralette, that I am literally…lost for words when I saw the Dayre community there caught up in a bralette craze. After clicking on blogs after blogs, it led me to the Mother of Bralettes on Dayre – braintango.

She says the bralettes would fit me and that our sizes are similar.

This sentence was like the rain after a long drought, the oasis in the desert (you get my drift). I got my hands on the padded strappy in both colors.

I literally held my breath when I started to put on the bralette, reminding myself to not to be disappointed if it doesn’t fit. But I guess I’m a worrywart for a good cause…

The bralette slipped on with ease.

It was soooooo comfortable and fit me like a dream (well, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t expect it to fit, so to fit in it – IT WAS ACHEIVEMENT UNLOCK!)

Ok, sold. So I inhaled in new products and releases. Let me tell you what you have been missing out.

The daily staple:

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This is affectionately called the Boob hugger. The material is so soft and smooth! I kept touching the bralette because every woman enjoys a comfortable bra, trust me.  It is comfortable, and provides sufficient support for an entire day of wear.

The Feel Good Wear:

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I don’t even need to describe, you just have to look at the pictures and imagine how good it is.

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Peekaboo lace midi.

Comfortable, but I honestly can’t wear this out, so I wore it at home to feel pretty.

Afterall, to be honest, the most important point about any lingerie, is comfort. Above price point, it is the comfort that we are looking out for. No one will wear a pretty but uncomfortable lingerie and run around for 8-9 hours at work each day. IT JUST DOESN’T CUT IT.

I am glad that after that nightmare episode, I found something suitable for me, and a local business that I am willing to introduce people to.

If you are looking for comfortable bralettes, do go to: ourbraletteclub.com

Good things must share!

 

Of Bralettes

thehiamsLeave a comment

I’ve seen Iskra Lawrence posing in bralettes and reading about her cause for #bodypositivity . Iskra is like my goddess role model. She’s beautiful, smart and above all – confident in her skin.

I’ve been pondering whether I should purchase Aerie’s bralette. I’ve been sitting on it sooooo much, that I didn’t get around to doing it. Maybe the rude discovery of how filmsy a non-lined bralette is, aided in the decision to sit on it longer.

Then came my BKK trip in December 2016. Whilst my cute friend A, ventured into a local lingerie store to buy safety shorts, I went in to take a look as well. I was skeptical of everything I saw in the store, because I knew I was different from the standard thailand girl size, or the standard singaporean size. Past experiences tells me that…I won’t fit into anything here.

Then, something in the far corner caught my eye. It’s a bralette with front straps and IT’S LINED!  AND IT HAS ELASTIC BAND! After enquiring with the owner who confidently told me that I’m able to fit in this, I happily enthusiastically desperately asked for it in 2 different colors, paid and stuffed them in my bag.

Alas! When I got home to try it on. It was a nightmare. It was a struggle to put on the bralette (PLEASE REMEMBER THAT ELASTIC BAND ALSO DO HAVE LIMITS – THERE’S NO INFINITY STRETCH OPTION AVAILABLE). For a good minute I panicked, and I kept thinking what if I got stuck and people who save me will see me stuck precariously in this piece of lingerie. After convincing myself that I would not allow this to happen, I finally gathered my shit and shoved the lingerie in place. That’s right, SHOVED. I stared myself in the mirror and marvelled over the fact that:

  1. WHY SO SMALL AH
  2. SO TIGHT. OH YAS TOO SMALL.
  3. OMG THE TRIANGLES ARE TOO SMALL
  4. MY BOOBS ARE SQUISHED FLAT AND NOW LOOKS LONGITUDINAL
  5. I FEEL STUPID
  6. I KINDA RESEMBLE A BAZHANG (RICE DUMPLING) with all the different lines tying up my meat together

This nightmare did not end here. What has been put on, must be taken off. Wrestling with that piece of lingerie ensues, and I emerged victorious (else i would have appeared on the headlines the next day).

I sneakily banished this lingerie of shame in the dark corner of my closet – never to see the light of the day again.

It was all fine. I lived happily ever after with wired bras – or so I thought.

 

I wonder

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Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder…

Where has time brought me to?

Now as an adult, with far more responsibilities, far more constraints. Am I truly in a place that I enjoy? Or am I in a place that I simply tolerate, because you know, it puts bread on the table. It is nice to have spending money?

As much as it sounds like I’m pointing fingers at time, I’m not.

As a child, I enjoy indulging in creative projects. I take photos on a daily basis, force my poor friends into being my models  my friends are all more than willing to be my free labour whenever crazy ideas struck me deep and hard. I edit photos, admire them.

Dabble in activities that bring me cash for allowance, and I juggle my grades all at the same time.

I was literally doing that work hard, play hard thing that people are buzzing about now.

Look at me now, slouched over the laptop, tapping away at roughly about 3 alphabets per minute (or I imagine it to be so, because 30 minutes felt like foreverrrrrrr). The feeling of doing something because I’m salaried and hence this should take precedence over any creative crazy ideas that I’ve been harbouring in my mind.

My inner dialogue is crazy these days.

Brain: You know, you should get your fingers moving and get that work cleared. You know that the D-day is looming right ahead. LET’S GET STARTED!

also the Brain: But there’s this awesome idea that I have, you know perhaps I could sneak a few product shots for the next hour and go back to the work?

Brain: No, you are paid to do work! So work should get done. 

again, the Brain: But…I don’t feel like doing it! It’s the weekend! Give me a break. Weekends are for fun stuff, and I should’t be typing out work stuff. 

The dialogue went on forever, debating whether I should do work, or should I do something that I like.

Though deep down, I know the solution is to first clear the work and I am free to enjoy in any creative endeavours that I choose to partake.

But no, after I’m done with the imaginary debate with no obvious winner. The clock literally did a sprint,and I wound up having lost 3 hours of my life.  I grapple with the way I’m handling this non-existent not even mid-life crisis, whilst trying very hard not to tear my hair out.

I think, I’m terrible at this adulting business.

Oh why, do I tap on my Instagram and marvel over the many inspirations – Look! She’s so productive! So talented! So amazing!

And wound up feeling small, unaccomplished and perhaps even slightly jealous of the picturesque life of others. ( I know picturesque isn’t used this way, but just let me pleaseeeeee).

Everyone seems to be doing a better job than me! The horrors!

I proceed to convince myself that social media only show the good stuff, and that it is highly curated and chock full of positivity, glitter and pixie dust (all of which I do not possess), and that I shouldn’t be bothered by what I saw, because what presented to me might not be the truth!

Am I doing #positivity right?

Although, I’m extremely rather cynical about where I am with time now. I trust that given time, I will eventually reach where I desire to be.

Oh the oxymoron.

I shall just practice faith then.

Have some faith. (I’m repeating this to anyone, any, who is willing to listen to me)

OH LOOK, I’VE TALENT IN WASTING TIME APPARENTLY.

Blooms

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I always thought that I am the type of girl who doesn’t hype over flowers. Sure, they are beautiful…

But the beauty is short-lived.

By day 2, the petals start to take keen interest in…gravity. Under the deadly seduction of gravity, they plunge towards the desk top, and end up in the not-so-romantic rubbish dump. Petals also seem to have this groupie effect.

ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE!

The next morning, the whole flower literally just…wait. what flower? I’m pretty sure that’s the stalk I can identify with.

I used to only be interested with baby’s breath. Fuss free! When dried it looks almost identical to the fresh version (maybe it looks like it has been tanned to death, that’s all). I can go onnnnn and oonnnnnnnnn ( like Celine Dion ), but that’s not the point.

Wait, wait, I don’t hiam flowers. I like flowers, but it’s nothing big to me.

This February, something happened to me. I was left hurt, grey and highly upset with everything around me ( this is simply a glorified sentence for I HATE THIS LIFE ). I was actually contemplating what should I do, if I’m to become a burden this life? What if I cannot walk without pain again? What if…

What if?????

WHAT IF (insert all those dramatic scenarios that I am thankful didn’t happen irl)

Whilst I was in that horrible black hole, something arrived.

It was a bouquet, with a quote that broke me down, yet build me up at the same time.

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It was pretty, with baby blue Hydrangea and mixture of Eustomas. It was wrapped in this brown paper that I’m always guilty of using.

It was me.

Little did I know, this was what I needed at the point of time. A distraction, a beautiful distraction.

This beautiful distraction, became a fascination. I began reading on flowers, floral arrangements, treatment for flowers.

I know they don’t live for that long, but I wanted to make sure that they are the prettiest blooms whilst they are still alive.

I then became the girl, with Blooms in my room.

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Blooms in my room – Tulips.

I am thankful, grateful for that timely bouquet – a reminder that, I am worth it. Despite the fact that I’ve been broken and flawed – I am worth it. I, am adequate.

You, you right there. You are worth it too.