I’d like for you to get yourself reacquainted with me.
I’d like for you to get yourself reacquainted with me.
1) I love brunch. I love the person I was having brunch with. I love pancakes.
2) Every Sunday from now to Oct, I’m hanging out with Terence who is part firefighter, part cicak man.
3) Peace lily. I don’t want mine to be this big though – I need space for my future children and dog and cat. Woof Mao!
4) I miss the times I had with Rohan and Hock Lik. I am really hoping the plan we have to visit him in the States come end of year will come true. I also miss being this skinny.
5) Chroam. So much love for this event even though I always leave it dripping sweat. CHROAM THIS SATURDAY GUYS! WHAT SHOULD I WEAR!
6) & 7) Massive seafood dinner at Pelican for Sheryl’s birthday dinner after which I went to Butter with Ruby and…..
8) Developed new love for the Butter Factory’s AOS Collective and scored myself a number which baffled me at first and then made me feel a bit better about….everything I have been dealing with this week.
Rainy nights are comforting regardless of whether I am burning up with a fever or not. I think this is because such nights almost always means the family sleeps by 11pm and then it’s just me, thunder and music blasting in my ears. I may often yak the ears off my sister/friends with my stories, ‘what if’ questions and sorrows but I really do also enjoy quiet time with myself. I find this privacy very therapeutic in the dead of the night.
Especially in the dead of rainy nights.
Tonight, for some reason, I rediscovered the sound track of Garden State. I bawled so much watching this movie the first time and have continued to cry equally as much every time I re-watch it. I’m not sure what it is about the emotional vacancy, leap of faith, uncertainty or just the theme of having to deal with the twentysomething angst and fear that gets me, but it does just that. And if by some stroke of luck I have managed to not cry while watching the movie, I listen to the soundtrack afterwards and then the waterworks begin. Need a good cry? Listen to the soundtrack.
“So let go, so let go.
Oh well whatcha waiting for
It’s all right
Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown. Beauty in the breakdown.”
- Frou Frou, Let Go
So as expected, my first week of freedom has come crashing down on my immune system and I am ill. Also, I don’t think I did my body any favours by deciding to go for hot yoga two days in a row when the weather has been scorching. I guess my goal of doing yoga every day this week has failed.
Anyhoo I needed something to do apart from giving in to my meds and lying comatose on my bed all day and so I decided to make a list of 3 things that makes me uncomfortable.
1) Dirty underarms.
If I was a superhero, my only mission would be to make sure everyone on planet earth has nice,clean underarms. You think you can get away with not-so-nice underarms in a sleeveless/short sleeved top? AHA! THINK AGAIN BUSTER! It’s honestly where my eyes travels to first when I am talking to you…..apart from your fingernails, teeth and eyebrows, of course. The 3 steps to nice underarms are: Shave (if you need to), exfoliate (everyone needs to get in there and give it a good scrub),apply whitening deodorant (don’t be a moron and come preach racism and how we all need to be proud of our own skin colour. Whitening products merely helps get skin back to YOUR original skin tone had it not been exposed to external factors.)
2) Short hair.
Surprise! Surprise! You would think after having had short hair all my life, that I would be comfortable in it but the contrary could not be more true. As much as I would love to carry off a short, pixie cut, I actually need to feel hair touching my ears. If they don’t touch my ears, I deem it as too short and walk around feeling like a complete moron. So it was a shock to me when I allowed Manisa to chop off my hair and even buzz the back and sides of my head. But hey, I needed the change and as much as I sometimes still think the hair cut would look better if I had a skinnier face, I am liking it a lot!
Ugh. Just writing about this makes me want to down a bottle of vodka. The idea that maybe perhaps, I have loved and lost and won’t ever find another again that I’d be able to trust completely and love wholeheartedly makes me both sad and uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I am not throwing myself a pity party but come on – we may be working our way to 6.9 million but love is hard to find. Add the fact that even the nicest of them all eventually turn out to be dicks and it just suddenly feels like a lost cause, you know? So maybe I will fall in love again or maybe I won’t. I just hope that if I do, the tears he makes me shed will be worthy of the relationship and a fulfilling future together, and if I don’t, then that I’ll find companionship elsewhere in my life. Just don’t let me die sad and lonely alright? My spirit will come back and throw rock-hard, moldy cupcakes at your head if you do. Consider yourself warned.
Yes, it is 5.08 am in the morning and I am up because I got jolted wide awake by violent menstrual cramps. No,uterus, you most definitely do not get to cheer to that achievement. Also kindly consider yourself extremely lucky to be existing so deep in me, it is not quite humanly possible to reach in and punch you. (Or is it?)
Here’s my burning question at 5am in the morning. Even though I have cut my hair and no longer wear any of my awesome headbands, I got this as a birthday gift this year. (Many hugs to SH!!) Where do you reckon it’d be socially acceptable to rock this kitty ear headband? Do I really care about social acceptance? I guess not – this headband is way cooler then most people I have met since 2013 kicked off but I’m curious to know anyway.
And now I return to curling up in a ball.
*I over ran the 250 limit by about 115 words and I know my friend who got me started on this will nag my ears off on the importance of precision but I think every word I wrote here is important.
At 24, I have barely started living my life to be telling about it so I thought I’d share what I am now aware of.
I used to think that being successful meant being in a job that took up 20 hours of your every day. Anything less meant I am not living up to my full potential and admitting that I wanted a family in the future and time for myself on weekdays was ludicrous.
Honestly, I don’t know if finally wanting a job that gives me a work life balance (and hopefully a decent work environment with nice, normal people) will make me successful. I could very well die as your average office worker. But I am actually okay with that. Why? Because I am so much bigger then my job. I am an awesome friend; even better girlfriend and trying to be a good daughter (haha). I tell hilarious jokes, I’m always up for a beer and dancing, I like the movies and music and look- my point is this – you and I have more important reasons to live for than to toil and waste our youth doing something that makes us miserable. Misery is not a good look – it makes you old, fat and you might die with a crusty vagina, trust me on this, I actually know women who are on their way there.
The definition of success has taken on a different meaning for me this year, a deceivingly simple one at that – to be happy. And the habits that will not get me there include but are not limited to – 20 hour work days, having to put up with unnecessary bitchiness and nastiness, being bullied at work, emotionally stuffing my face to get through my month, wondering out loud every other day why I am doing what I am doing (writing advertorials about vagina washes anyone?), straining all the relationships around me, having anxiety attacks, stress acne/insomnia/eczema/allergies.
The truth is I am only 24 and I get things wrong and am probably going to make more mistakes till I am 40. So I thought I would enjoy this, apparently I was wrong. (Good lord do I miss working with men, sane girls, and having t-i-m-e (oh! hey there old friend, I’ve missed you!) to myself.) But its cool, I’ll have a beer while I figure it out.