i miss new york

i miss new york

So many of my friends are all over the world on their grad trips now. And I've been just short of dying of wanderlust. I particularly miss New York. Something about that city is so amazing that you remember it for a long time after you leave. The smell of dreams in the air. The bustling streets that never sleep. The secrets in the nooks and crooks of the city. Ahh, what I'd give to be back there right now.

For now, I promise myself a decent post of the lovely city, complete with pictures and stories. We'll see what memories NYC has left me.

ten years and counting

ten years and counting

So thankful to have these girls in my life. 

It's been ten years and we're still going strong. How precious!

best wednesday ever!

best wednesday ever!

I had the BEST Wednesday ever. Made myself happy food for breakfast (without burning down the kitchen!), went for a nice long swim in the afternoon sun (and had the pool all to myself!), saw a spectacular sunset from the train (which didn't break down!), had awesome teppanyaki with Glenn (on a weekday!), took the dog out for a walk (and didn't have to pick up her shit!) and... got myself a new hamster (who tried to run away within an hour of reaching home and had me crawling around the house like an idiot while Mama laughed at me). Whoever's up there, thank you! :D


And to myself, I want to remember this day because I hope I'll always remember what happiness is. Eat well, exercise, read good books, stop to smell the flowers (or watch a sunset), love people and spend time with little animals.

i think i'm gonna miss school

i think i'm gonna miss school

People have been telling me that I will miss school when I leave. To be honest, I've never believed them. I thought I've had enough of school over 16 years - the endless deadlines, the enormous piles of readings, the mad rush to get to class on time, the ridiculous school rules that I never understood, the loss of weekends to mugging sessions and the list goes on. I was right. Those thing I've had enough of, that I'm pretty sure.

But there are a thousand other things that are not quite school but share a close enough affinity for me to say, I think I'm gonna miss school.

Things like inspiration. School inspires me. I read a line of immensely profound thought, put into words by a man from hundreds of years ago, and find myself wondering for hours. It's as if my brain had gone on a spontaneous adventure.

Spontaneity. That too. The long hours between and after classes. Reading, swimming, talking, napping, shopping, eating, dreaming. You could do anything. The time is yours and yours alone. Share it with whoever you want. Steal a kiss in a secret hideout. Cry your heart out in a lonely corner. Have an impromptu manicure session with your girlfriends. Stalk a new crush.

Or better still, take a day off school. Play truant and be a rebel. Hold hands and smile at the reflection of your unintended couple wear. School uniforms have never been this sexy. Fear the consequence and laugh off the punishments, feeling like heroes and heroines afterwards. Break the rules because the worst that can happen to you is detention.

You'd meet all the cool people at detention. The ones who are like you, who don't give a flying fuck about establishment. That's how the most precious friendships are born, isn't it? Meeting people who are exactly like you at the most unlikely of places. Practising the awkward pronunciation of bonjour at French class. Trying to find a new classroom in an unfamiliar building. Figuring out how to use the library card.

When you've got that sorted out, you'll spend mornings, afternoons and nights sitting in the library, poring over words that make absolutely no sense. The thrill of figuring it out. The pride in speaking of postmodernity as if it's the latest fashion. The joy of rolling your tongue over je suis une etoile. The victory of A+. The intellectual challenge.

And then between essays and exams, we become our own persons. So much of our days spent in school, conforming, resisting, disintegrating, growing, failing, learning, questioning, living. It must have meant something. For me, it was rebirth. A thousand times over.

And now, it's the real world. No second chances. No detentions. Will I make it? I will. School has taught me well. Metamorphosize yet again. Rebirth. 

story of a bracelet

story of a bracelet

I've never had a trinket with a story to tell. You know, the locket that her grandmother passed to her on her wedding day, the pendant that she thought she'd lost but he picked up, the necklace that her father bought her the day they received her sister into the world, the moonstone ring that an enigmatic sorceress bestowed her.

This bracelet with a heart-shaped charm is probably the closest I've come to that. A little history now. When I received this bracelet, I've had yet received any kind of jewelry from G. It was Christmas in 2009, my first at his family dinner. His sisters, all of them incredibly sweet girls, gave this to me. I loved it.

A couple of days after Christmas, I left for Canada, and him Glasgow. I wore this bracelet as a reminder of home and love. It'd be one of the only few pieces of accessories I wore for special occasions. I loved fiddling with the charm, a heart angled like a girl poised for a kiss.

When we saw each other again four months later, the heart would sit between us as our hands joined. An amulet, it saw us through. I wore it on the road when we backpacked Europe because I wanted to see the heart-shaped charm to dangle from my wrist in all the special photos.

And there it was, tinkling with its secret melody as we mock wrestled on the beaches of Santorini. In an instant indiscernible to the human senses, the bracelet broke free and sailed through the air, freewheeling. My wrist was bare. The tiniest of splashes. A fleeting glimmer. Like a lover's silent rustling of the sheets in the morning. A gentle kiss on the forehead while he sleeps. Then the reluctant goodbye.

We splashed about and groped blindly amongst the waves, picking up fistfuls of wet sand and letting it run through our fingers. No bracelet.

"It's probably gone, babe."

But I stood there, for a long while, watching the waves crash into the sand, shift a few grains and retreat back into the ocean. The sparkling water hurt my eyes, but I stared. In my head, I imagined the string of silver twirling and wreathing in the deep blue. Goodbye.

But only till we meet again.

It wasn't really gone, I know. I can see it suspended in the ocean, like it was locked in time, like an immortal mermaid poised for a kiss that would bring her to life. Maybe someday a snorkeler would find it, polish it until it shines with all its former glory. Then it would become someone else's story.

Meanwhile, we held hands, without the silver heart sitting between us, and made a wish. Ocean for well; bracelet for coin. I leaned in for a kiss and felt my own heart twirl with love, dancing in the indigo blue.

le weekend

le weekend

Weekends are for staying in, 

so that we can nap while the rain pours, 

and walk the dog when the sun shines. 

Like monochrome, two elements make it whole; 

sleep/wake, rain/shine, you/me. 

Stable, therefore our staple. 

Until the next. 

buys: pink & orange

buys: pink & orange

I love how this photo says so much about me. 

There was a bazaar in school and I dropped by the usual old books booth out of habit. Thing is, I've been craving for a light chick lit type of read for quite some time now. But I can never justify buying a book that I won't want to find on my bookshelf in say, 5 years. And lately I've developed a genuine dislike for pretentious and frivolous writing. You know, those that pretend to be all post-modern and nonchalant but turns out to be dictatorship on the way you live your life in Morse code or something. 

So, even after judging 5 books by the cover (I really cannot understand the saying "Don't judge a book by its cover" by the way. Anyone who has tried to buy a book without prior research would know that you can't help but to judge the damn book by its cover!) and finally settling on one, I couldn't bring myself to buy it. Even if it was $2.90, such a paltry sum that it's not enough to get me onto a cab. 

Unless I bought a artsy-fartsy-dusty classics as well. 

Oh, self! The things you do to me. See, now we've got poor Hardy turning in his grave, sandwiched between Drama Queen and Kate Spade (which, by the way, is fake but costs the same as the two books put together). HAHA.

valentine's, always epic

valentine's, always epic

Every year, Valentine's is pretty epic for us. Last year, I fell off a chair. This year, oh, this year. All I can is  someone one up there is pushing us to top the game each year.

For the life of me, I couldn't decide on what gift to get G this year even though I started thinking about it waaay early. Actually, I haboured a secret thought for a long time - I absolutely hate the pair of shoes he wears to work and I had thought Valentine's was the *perfect* excuse to get them changed; but I also knew those shoes are what I wanted for him, not quite what he'd want for himself. 

Furthermore, upon embarking on my shopping trip for a decent pair of shoes, I was SO bored and confused! All men's shoes look THE SAME and I couldn't quite remember if he was a size 42 or 43. And then the design and colour - do Asian men wear anything other than black? Would anything fancier than plain be too loud for work? 

So. I waited till the morning of Valentine's itself for some divine sign to fall into my lap. But it did not. I sat at Starbucks, between an interview and a lecture, mulling over it. Finally, at 11.51am, Saint Valentine spoke to me. He ordered that I get a spa package for both of us because... Wait, do you actually need a reason for a spa??

But... how do I present this gift to G? I can't possibly print out the receipt and maybe laminate it before presenting it to him like some certificate, can I? The latent Martha Stewart in me was about to explode. So after class, I went shopping for some materials so that I could make a voucher of sort that actually looks like a gift. Oh dear comrades, you don't decide to embark on a crafts project a mere 4 hours away from dinner. You just don't. It is mission kazikame. 

The envelope was the only thing that turned out decent-looking, because it was first to get done.

So after the great battle of paper, glue and scissors (hey, this should be a new game!), I finally got down to dolling up and picked out a pair of vintage heels to go with my dress. By vintage, I literally mean that my shoes were 5 years old, but never worn because I couldn't find an occasion. Almost immediately after stepping out of the house, THEY SPLIT RIGHT OPEN ON ME! The horrors!

When I eventually tottered my way to dinner on the alternative pair of 5 inches, I was 20 minutes late and my toes were yelping for help. I was all ready for face the wrath of the hungry man. But oh that man, that good man. He sat me down, ordered us a bottle of wine and everything was better at once. In fact, everything was perfect. How can it not be? Candle flickering between us, lights and stars glittering all around us, the clink of wine glasses surrounding us. Mostly, us. I couldn't ask for more. Happy Valentine's, my dearest.

Oh right, my camera just had to die at the exact moment I asked for a photo of us.
Thus the noir-et-blanc to save the lousy iPhone flash. 

CHAMPIONS!

CHAMPIONS!

IVP Champions, 2012. 

WE FUCKING DID IT! CHAMPIONS!!! I honestly thought my heart was going to stop beating when we concluded the first half at 2-4. But we came back a phenomenal 5-1 in the second half and finished off 7-5 at the final whistle. I don't know where or how we found it in us to do, but each and everyone of us had it in us and boy, we wanted those gold medals. To every single one of you, you were amazing.

There is no better way to end my last game in NUS. It's been four long years and we finally, finally got the trophy back! This one's for you, Karen. Thank you, for everything.

And to myself, remember this moment of glory and victory. Remember to always keep your eyes on what's most important. Remember that in everything you do, have heart.

CNY traditions, old & new

CNY traditions, old & new

Width of smile is proportionate to the amount of alcohol in this family.

My family is not too big on Christmas and New Year's, but when it comes to the CHINESE New Year, boy, that we're super big on. I secretly suspect it's Mommy favourite festive season of the year. We go on a crazy mission to rid the house of every speck of dust, decorate the entire house (which includes but is not restricted to the lift lobby) in red and gold, plaster posters of the favoured animal for that respective year on the walls, cook enough to feed an army or maybe two. I always describe my CNY as nonstop action-packed!

Being my mother's daughter, I am crazy enough to add new traditions of my own to the list and make the fullest of the festivities to meet up with all my loved ones! Of course, it starts at home with a huge reunion feast, prepared with so much love by Mommy, topped with copious alcohol. It's always a battle between Daddy and I, to see who loses the war with the Z monsters after. Hahaha.

Then it'd be a trip to Glenn's, usually on the second day, to bai nian to his parents and extended family. And I tell you, his extended family really redefines the meaning of "extended". There are so many aunties, uncles, grandaunts, granduncles, cousins, nephews and nieces! And man, you definitely do not want to mistake the niece of your boyfriend as his auntie. But luckily, or should I say unluckily, for us, his nieces and nephews are actually all little enough for me not to make that kinda mistake.

I sincerely hope no one mistook our relations. It must have been a such a shock.

This year, with Glenn's jiejie being away, we were in charge of taking the little tots down for a walk. Man, this walk in the park was definitely not a walk in the park. And these are two people who did not have much sleep the night before due to mahjong kaki duties. We were up till 6am and went to bed just before sunrise! I even have a Hello Kitty toy to prove my visit to McDonalds in the wee hours (the only hour when any 22yo dares to order a Happy Meal and ask for the toy, really)!

And of course you'd totally expect me to have friends who love the festivities as much as I do and celebrate as religiously as I do too. It's been an annual gathering at Phuay's since we were in JC and we've been keeping it up every year since then! It's always like JC reunion, except better, with pineapple tarts and angbaos!

Then it's our annual pig out session at my place with the closest and the oldest friends, who all love my wonderful Mommy more than they love me. Yes, over the years, they have sort of given up on hoping that I'd inherit some of those culinary skills. I've been declared a lost cause in the kitchen. Hahaha. This year I invited some of the touch girls and mixed up the group a little and everyone enjoyed the new dynamics very much! What friendship can't be forged over a pack of poker cards and some loose change from the angpaos?

See, I really wasn't kidding when I said CNY is nonstop action-packed for me. How was yours? (: