Creatures like us

Most days I don’t think about too much, but somedays like the past two, I’m peeved at many things. I wanted to smash all the glasses in the kitchen earlier because my housemate constantly puts my cup on the top shelf where I can’t reach, and enough is enough. How badly I wanted to tell my team that I’m throwing in the towel on this godforsaken project because the lack of communication is just unbearable. How the idea of screaming in my pillow to relieve some sort of rage could somehow make things better.

Such days – Days where patience runs out, days where I see nothing but red, days where I feel sharp waves of pain stabbing my lower abdomen; these are the worst versions of me on a monthly basis. If technology and the lack of shame allows it, every being suffering from PMS ought to receive a little parachute package filled with chocolates and have a little blinking light on their foreheads so people will understand and try to be a little kinder.

I need to breathe. Take deep breaths, ignore everybody, and watch TV.

Uncategorized, weekly

Grown ups

It was Jill’s birthday on Thursday and a group of us came together after 5 years for some cake, cocktails and hurrah. It’s so nice seeing familiar faces every now and then, having conversations about how life has passed us by and how we’ve all grown. I had set work goals in the beginning of the week but somehow spent more time staring at the wonders of Mother Nature and having affairs with my creative hobbies instead. The self-help section of the book store is where I should spend more time at, maybe I’ll learn a thing or two about motivation.

Meanwhile, unemployment is no joke and it comes with a lot of discipline. This comfortable “vacation” bubble that I’m in may prove to be slightly self-damaging. Last night I returned home at 5am, took a shower and plopped into bed with half a tub of chocolate ice cream in hand. At the bottom of the tub, I was darn happy like a kid and slept like a baby. Although, moments like these make me feel glad that as an independent adult I can make my own responsible choices, such as having beer for lunch and eating ice cream before bed. If this is adulthood, keep it coming because I may be doing it right.





It feels like I’m off focus lately. With all this free time on my hand, I’d expect to be a little bit more productive but all that’s happened is me being stuck in a creative fix. The list making continues, and I know exactly what I need to do. Getting there just isn’t the easiest with all this mess of works that are in my hard-drive. It almost felt like I was in a labyrinth of my old works, looking at it made me feel sick and tired of how things get nowhere once I lose motivation.

I have no plan, will this whole dream of mine even work out? Because if it doesn’t, I only have myself to blame for not putting in enough effort. Everything is a stagnant piece of shit, and the continuation of this hibernating mode is driving me up the wall.Don’t tell me I’m being too hard on myself because all that’s in my head lately is visions of climbing mountains, jumping off cliffs and running freely into the wild. If I don’t control my mind, I might just throw everything away for nothing. The fact that I know how easily that can happen frightens me to no end.


Fhuat up.

Spending Lunar New Year has always been a chore, and while last year’s absence in Singapore made me feel somewhat lonely, I might just have gotten used to a non-traditional Chinese New Year after all. I can’t recall how much more alcohol I’ve been consuming lately. Need to set a reminder to myself to know when enough is enough. Nevertheless, it’s been real eventful and starting this week I’m going to be more focused. I almost forgot how empowering it is to wake up early and start my day at 7am. If it weren’t for the new trainers that I bought, nothing else would have motivated me to get up and go running.



Wind down

It’s been a while since my weekend was this eventful. Mostly it consists of personal space but I may have maxed out socialising credits over the past two days. A last minute decision to Laneway was, well, bleak. After 2 years of missing Laneway, I thought perhaps going for this year’s would be interesting, especially with Beach House performing. Somehow I spent more time looking for people in the crowds than actually enjoying the music. By the time Beach House went on stage, I made a decision to just walk into the crowd alone and stand there by myself in the middle to watch them. I do not have patience for negative people and drama that doesn’t involve me anymore. Luckily I found and stuck with another group of super funny folks for the rest of the night. Wandering off to buy a cup of Sailor Jerry’s wasn’t a bad idea after all.

H also came to visit for the weekend and I had one of the nicer tour-guiding days. Usually I’m just exhausted and walking way too much, but today was chill. Exhibitions, watching the rain and picking favourite skyscrapers from Chinatown’s rooftop carpark, chakra drinks at Going Om. I even tried that weird hoverboard thing in the middle of Haji Lane with the ever-friendly fellas who work there.

There was a photography exhibition today at Gillman that showcased many photos from India, Nepal and Burma. Identifying which city each photo was taken made me realise how much I’ve missed India. I pulled out my India/Nepal notebook from my stash of travel journals. Re-reading journal entries, my little pages of Hindi/Nepali/Spanish, seeing the spread of book, movie and Bollywood movie recommendations, seeing sketches that I drew while commuting – memories flood back like I was just there. But it’s been over a year.  Those journal entries, they’ve done nothing but reveal how laid-back my mind was then. I was so chill, so nonchalant. My mind hasn’t had the luxury of freedom since I came home. Agendas, to do lists, they fill up my head like a never-ending checklist.

How I miss that feeling, the liberation of having a completely clear mind. How I miss having space in my head to remind myself to be conscious about each bite that I take from my meals. How I miss morning sun salutation sessions on the rooftop of Vinod’s guesthouse with the Catalonian boys. How I miss greeting the lady in the cake cafe in Nepalese before morning yoga class in Rishikesh. How I missed walking around barefoot, feeling the earth in between my toes and having grey all over the underside of my foot where there should be the colour of skin. How I missed the sound of anklets jingling as girls walked around. How I miss the familiarity of discomfort that became comfort in time to come, the comfort of making a grungy hole become a temporary home, watching time pass through the dripping wax of candles at the edge of my bed, weaving macrame bracelets while squashed up with local women in the front of buses. Perhaps some places are not meant to get over, and India is definitely one of those places in the world.


Currently : ♫ Rainbow Trout – Matt Kivel ♫