English Classic Hits- Triggered Memories

Sometimes I wonder who am I writing all this for? I don't get a response and most of them the post is probably "read" by bots. Then, I realize I don't need an audience, I am mostly writing because I want to, because writing allows me to vent some for my feelings out, as pent up as they can be. Hence, this blog has become a diary to me, a personal outlet where I can be creative, lame, boring, exciting, angry, happy, knowledgeable, irritating, so on and so forth. So, when you are reading most posts here (except those tagged under poetic), I am just being myself, typing out whatever I am feeling at that moment. Sometimes, there is a more true me in my writings rather than the one I present in real life.

Anyway, today I was listening to old English songs (which include Tie a Yellow Ribbon around the Old Oak Tree, In the Ghetto, Daddy Cool, Country Road, Don't Cry Joni) and I was reminded of a journey made in 2002.

December 2002, Mum, my sisters and I boarded the MAS airplane heading to Kaoshiung, Taiwan. We were going there to for holiday with Appa who was working there at that time. The plane we took made a stop transit at Kota Kinabalu, and we were allowed to disembark from the plane for a short while to visit the airport. Now, I remember my second sister who at that time was 14 years old was very besotted with the air steward, so she actually gave the crew of the flight a box of chocolate (of course, she gave it to the person she liked, but claiming it was for all) that was bought in the KK airport where we stopped for transit. I also remember her being angry at the steward/ maybe it was me during final disembarkation because the steward smiled at me. I can't really remember what was my reaction to that, but I'd like to think that I probably goaded at her, like a true sister. We got on visa on arrivals, thank god without any trouble and mostly because we sisters all spoke Mandarin. At the terminal, appa was waiting and we boarded his jeep. Thinking it was rather late we would be heading back to wherever we were staying. But no, we were first brought to be introduced to all my father's colleagues, and bosses. This took place in a tiny shop that sold fresh seafood (out of the tanks). There was like about 10-15 of us, seated on small stools. And speaking the mother tongue of my father's colleague, we practically charmed the pants off most of them. Finally, we were brought to a motel where we were to spend our stay at (this I believe was paid by my dad's boss). Seriously, at that time, exposed to the motels back home where things were crap, I was expecting the worst. When we arrived, I was surprised, for one they had strict security at the entrance of the motel itself. Second, we had our own garage at our unit for parking, from where you take the stairs up to the room. So, my dad and mum, got a smaller room and we 3 sisters got a suit or something like that. Now, this part is probably one of the most amazing part of my stay in Taiwan. The room had a small living room with a futon and a bedroom with a king sized bed where all 3 of us could fit in. But the bathroom was my highlight, it was huge, and beautiful. Most importantly it came equipped with a jet bathtub, a jacuzzi and a steam sauna. Of course also a full body shower, which shoots at every part of your body. Honestly I was wowed and right then and there I vowed that next time I bought a place for my place its gonna be exactly like that. 

The next morning, we were served breakfast in our room, which happened unexpectedly and was rather amusing when we think back about it. I think we were all deep in sleep.(I was sleeping closes to the door, squashed in between me and my second sis, was my third sis) Then, suddenly, we felt someone jumping on us, and the a loud crash, and it was my second sister who panicked with the incessant ringing at 7am and jumped over us and crash landed on the floor. Up to now, I still crack up when I remember this scene we woke up to. Haha.. Anyway, the rest of the stay involved visiting places, meeting my dad'd friends, sitting at a roadside shop and watching people chew away the betel leaves, visiting more places, meeting more friends, making new friends. There are just too many memories for me to be detailing out one by one (otherwise this post would be pages long). Some of my father's friends became our friend who we kept in touch intermittently via facebook. My father's boss' daughters are our friend on Facebook too. 

Well, I missed the point right? The reason the English old songs reminded me of this memory, was because whenever we were in father's jeep during out stay in Taiwan, we were belting out the songs by heart and without music. All of us, my sisters, my dad, my mum and I together in sync, some louder than others, but nevertheless together, singing these songs in an order that we remember from listening to the CDs back home. I think that was a precious memory, our togetherness at that moment. 

I miss them - My sisters (all grown up, all with their own life), my Appa (who has passed away almost 4 years ago), my Amma (who is 10180km away from me).

#thoughts  

#memories

#missinghome 

Brain and Heart at War

sometimes i am at war with myself.

Really, I am a total introvert. I am anti-social. I really don't like standing on stage. I don't like meeting people for the first time. I am worse when at social functions, especially if I don't have a close friend to stick to.

Recently, I have been warring with myself as to whether to step out of the house or not. Would it better to go out and explore? or would it be better to be recluse and hide in my room and watch all the drama i can watch, read all the fanfictions that I can read. My heart says one thing, and my brain says another. And the heart and brain are also completely fickle, because they switch priorities and never do agree with each other.

I want to go out, I want to walk around the city, around the country. My brain mostly says it is no problem, I can do it, I can go wherever I want. And my heart knows brain is right, but heart is not completely in it. It doesn't like going around alone, walking the streets alone, not speaking the language, with no friends, no acquaintances, hate sitting in the cafe alone (although brain says people watching is fun), my heart is not up for this adventure. Then sometimes, its the complete opposite, the heart say yes, lets go, and when I step out of the house and walk around, brain becomes paranoid, and heart starts become mellow, and wants to just go back home.

So, under such circumstances, what should I do?

#BrainAndHeartAtWar #thoughts

The look

You know how sometimes when you say like you like this singer or that actor or that band, people will give you "the look". The condescending look like how could you like this person/ thing/ song. Yeah, I am sure most have received that look. In fact I am sure that I myself have previously given the look to others. And when you receive that look, you'd be like (i) defending your fav or (ii) feeling embarrassed for not "keeping up to trend". I, unfortunately, fall in the second category. I get highly embarrassed and will never mention that ever again. Although that doesn't mean that I have stopped loving whatever is it I am loving. Over the years, I have kept a lot of my favorite artist/actor/idol locked up tight in my heart, not sharing with anyone except close friends ~but sometimes even the close friends are capable of hurting your likes and dislikes~ Now, I still keep them close in my heart, but it is not because I am embarrassed, its more like I couldn't be bothered to share with you if you continue to diss them, and it is not worth the heartache. We all have our reasons for liking (or disliking) someone or something, and if you are not agreeable, just respect the other peoples' choice!

So, to conclude let me share with you actor/singers/idols/band that I have loved throughout my life (and mind you, some of them I still love)

1. Tommy, my first love, from the Power Rangers (I know this is just a character, but still people look at me like, how old are you? you watched Power Rangers? etc. I love watching Tommy, and the other rangers as well, now and then I still watch old series on youtube)
2. Aragorn, my second love, from Lord of the Rings (Yeah, yeah, no one ever judges me for loving him or the Lord of the Rings. The movie is that awesome)
3. Gong Yoo, after coffee prince, it was not only the character, but the his acting skills in that drama, that made me fall for him, of course he is not perfect, some of his drama aren't that great, but he can act
4. Kamenashi Kazuya, from KAT-TUN. Honestly, I don't think I have ever liked anyone this much. I first saw him in a drama, his acting, his micro-emotions just had me done. From there, I grew to love KATTUN too. Now I love everyone from KATTUN. (Here is where I get the terrible look, its just another idol band, who can't sing, whose members can't act, and the list goes on. You know, no, you actually don't know, but its okay for you to not know, as long as you aren't coming to face, and insulting me and my taste.)\

Hahaha.. So that's all for today. Tune in sometime soon. Au revoir

My first story

I wrote my first story, I think I was 9/10 years old. It was written on pages torn out from the middle of my school notebook. I might have written about 15-20 pages of stuff that don't exactly remember writing, What I do remember, is feeling proud of completing this without it being an excuse for school. Something that I had always thought I would love to do. So, feeling accomplished, I gave 2 persons that I adore and love ~people whom I still love today~ to read. I remember being so nervous and anxious. Of course, after reading they were praising me, and saying it was well written and all the stuff you say to a child. But me being me, an overtly observant piece of shit, even at a young age, mostly deciphered their true feelings for my story just by their expression while they were reading. Their expression seemed to have said it all. Both of them looked surprised, worried, and  mildly disturbed. ~Now that I think of it, maybe the story was too adult for my age? Well, it contained kissing and stuff, which were at those days considered not suitable for children our age. However, with the exposure of TV (at that era), of course we were bound to find kissing all over our small screens~ Seeing their expression, I remember feeling terribly embarrassed, and useless and felt like I should never ever write anything more in my life. I think I kept up to this motto until senior high school. Until I had school assignments that required me to exchange diary-like essays with random classmates. ~I still have those stored in a box back home, and boy, they do bring back lots of memories~ From then I wrote, mostly for school assignments, then I wrote personal diaries ~of which I burnt at the end of the year, so stupid of me~ and then I started writing in blogs, I had a friendster account and a blog there ~unfortunately it has been wiped out~ so I lost most of my writings there. There I had gmail, which came with blogger, and I started writing here. It feels liberating at times to just write down things, and especially when I am upset, angry or lost. It is also fun to re-visit these old writings someday, and think back what the hell did I do on this day. I also dabble in some not very poetic writings ~I suck at that~. Nowadays I read a lot of fanfictions and there are some who are really really very good at writing, very imaginative, some of them make me cry, laugh, and get emotional along with their characters. But ever since ~my first story~, I have never attempted anything serious, I don;t think I can write very well anyway, and i am not that imaginative nor am i creative. I think my confidence took a serious beating even back then.

Moral of the story: Be mindful of how you treat children, not only with your words and gestures but also your expression towards them, Because cumulatively these will create a life long lasting impression of them. Impacting their behavior and attitude in work, life, and overall being a human.,,,

Moving to another country

Two months and a week ago, I moved to another country. This time it's for work. Before leaving, I was always asked whether I was getting excited to leave. But no, honestly I did not feel "excitement", I did not understand why either, because it has been a long, long dream of mine to go to another country, to experience life elsewhere, to travel around the world. But yet, when the time came, I did not feel excited. I was not reluctant, nor was I sad. It was more like, yeah, its about time, and I am just thankful, and at the same hesitant to leave my mum alone. Nevertheless, 2  and 1/2 months later I am here in my room far away from home typing this piece of shit out. 

Before I left, I was so tied down with getting my visa, where the embassy sort of gave me fucking hell lots of problem, shuffled here and there. I was thinking, shouldn't the embassy be more welcoming, shouldn't they be more helpful? But I know, the lady was just doing her job, and probably meant well (she didn't want me to get into any trouble with the city administration here). So, I only got my visa 2/3 weeks before I was scheduled to leave. And with only my visa and lodging in mind, I never did research about the country, nor the city I was gonna live in for the next two years. I came here totally unprepared, and unwilling of help from colleagues. Still, I managed, lugging behind me 40kg worth of stuff, I boarded the plane, and I realized 99% of the passengers were French speaking. At that moment, I realize I got myself in deep shit (haha). Still, I was not worried, sat beside a guy who looked like he wanted to talk to me for the whole journey, but I was faster, jamming the earphones, pulling up my hoodie, I practically retreated into my shell (the anti-social being I am). So, I watched movies, I ate, and I slept and only during the last leg of the journey, did the guy manage to speak to me, trying to find out everything he could. He didn't speak French, and spoke Dutch, but with his halting English, he actually was kind enough to guide me through the airport and immigration where I bade him farewell. 

Next, with my limited French (thanks, monsieur Point), I managed to find my way to the train station, bought a train ticket where the mademoiselle kindly told me that I had to switch trains at certain stops. The bag was a b***h to haul up and down the train. When I reach my switch stop, I got down from the train and realized that I didn't know which track to take my train from. I paced up and down, and found a fellow passenger from the east who was looking just as bewildered as I was. Despite being antisocial, I struck up a conversation and found out that he was meant to get off here but he doesn't know where the exit is. So, off we went to an adventure of finding an exit for him and then realized that there were 2 exits, and Mr. East was not sure where he was supposed to go. I couldn't accompany him anymore, so I bid him adieu and continued searching for the track I was supposed to on. I find a board detailing the trains and their tracks. And I found 2 heading to where I was supposed to go, they were just 5 minutes apart and on totally different tracks. Again, the shy and unpleasant me had to approach another kind soul who explained to me that both trains go there, it's just that they take different routes. She wants kind enough to help me search on her app, for which train will arrive my destination earliest, An off I go to my track, waiting patiently for the train to arrive. Suddenly a guy with as many luggage as I had, along with his guitar approach me and start speaking to me in French. I said no speak french, and he happily switched to English and asked me whether I could look after his luggage while he grabbed some food to eat. He even offered to grab me some (which I declined). So, I said sure, no problem and he was gone. 5 minutes, I was panicking, because I starting thinking too much, like what if he had drugs in luggage or something, and I was in a foreign country, and i was advised to not handle stranger's luggage...blah blah blah.. of course that was me overthinking and poof, he was back with a sandwich in his hands. And I found a conversation partner who helped me with my killer luggage and thought I was very brave to travelling alone to another country without speaking the language, and without any plans... 

Well, I was not brave, I am not brave now too.. I am just a scared little nerd who had always wanted to travel (when I was young I wanted to a pilot to travel around the world), and opportunity came, and I lunged at it. Seriously though, I managed to make to my lab, and to my temporary residence. And I, with minimal help, managed to find myself a decent little studio (with a bathtub~my favorite), get all administrative stuff sorted out. I was proud of myself. But I have not managed to make any new friends, a little bit saddening, but its alright, because I am at the age where i don't need many friends, just as long as I can keep in touch with my best friends, thats enough that makes me happy.

Thank you

Hey there,

I have not updated anything new about myself recently, have I?

If you are reading this blog ~hahaha,.. I am pretty no one is~, then you must have seen my angry personal blogs and also some very random poetic attempts of mine.

I graduated last year, you know. Getting there was not an easy journey. First, I lost my dad before he even got a chance to know I was gonna do my PhD. Then my supervisor schedules my seminar 3 weeks after he dies. I was so frustrated at that time, couldn't get anything right, broke down at weirdest moment. Went to get superb drunk one night with my friend, ending puking in the toilet later. You know, I almost backed out of doing a phd. Then I thought to myself, what am i gonna do then? How am I gonna support my family, I have a mum and a younger sister who will be depending on me. I had 6 dogs at home that need to be fed. So, I decided to continue, to strive along, not give up and make my parents proud.

These 3 years, I had many travelling opportunities, I met great people, people whom still have place in my heart. I has great company and friends, but somewhere along the line, somewhere in 2014, there was a rift between me and my supervisor. It all started with my thesis, although I had finished writing and given her for correction, she told me that  I need that 2 publication (which mind you, I already had), and don't need to submit my thesis until the paper which was just sent for revision was accepted. I was so angry, because she had no problem with my thesis, everything was done well, i had all the necessities to submit my thesis, but for some reason, she just didn't want me to do so. I should have left then, should have listened to my mum. But no, I was too naive, too stupid, too kind-hearted because later when she begged me to not leave her lab after I completed my thesis, i stayed. And hell broke loose in September 2014. I think I have never felt that abused in my whole life. I have felt as used as I was for the 6 months that i was there. I lost my self confidence, I lost my esteem, I lost all good memories that I had of that place. I was broken, I hit rock bottom, and remained there until the line was crossed, where I was accused to be a lousy teacher. I left. And i think that was one of the best decision I made in my whole life, I would be jobless for the next few months, but I regained myself. I became happier, I was smiling sincerely once more, I lived without fear and humiliation.

But you know, all through this diversity, I had my mum and the memory of my dad, my aunt, my sisters, my brother-in-law, my niece, my 2 good friends who walked every step with me. Some who cried with me, some that made me laugh openly, some who were silently suffering together with me. You know, without them I really really wouldn't have survived these years. I wouldn't be here now.

So despite being late for this year's thanksgiving, I want thank god for all of you who have been the pillar of my life. Thank you all for being here and there, still being here and there for me. Thank you for everything, every memory, every tear, every smile, every gift, every time spent. I love you all

The damaged good

I am thinking.
Yeah, I am always thinking.
Sometimes I think too much
most of the time I try to stop thinking

You know, on the surface I may look like a confident woman. But half of the time, I am just a self-deprecating person, who totally don't feel confident at all. From young, I have always heard fat people are slow, and lazy and slow-minded. I guess the words weren't targeted at me, mostly I think derived by the too-observant little self, who takes in more than the adult can think of (which is why I advocate not gossiping/badmouthing in front of young ones). I have heard more than I should have probably. I knew I was fat from a young age. Then I went to school, and things only became worse, not only I was fat, now I was black (in a sea of yellow skinned people). These people made me feel the worst. But my young self was a relentless little girl, I must have thought then, if I can't be pretty, or look nice, then I will use my brains to fight these people off. I will show them that if I can't beat them in the "looks" area, then I will use my smartness. I had six years of miserable life (those were the worst years I guess), I fought a tough and long battle, only to be pushed down again and again (even literally), but that strong little fighter in me didn't give up. I never felt appreciated for my talents, always sidelined, so that someone with "better looks" can take the lead. Although secondary school was way better than primary school, I still faced some uncanny individuals bent on making my miserable or just had a word to say about my looks. Not always, I had many friends, true ones though rare. At home, relatives, the first thing they ask when they see me is why aren't you losing weight? or haven't you put on weight? Oh god, I am doing so well in other areas/aspect of life, and you can only pick this to comment on? So superficial. Someone is always telling me, lose your weight and all the guys will come after you like stray dogs. And one day I got tired of hearing her say this, so I told her I'd rather not have any strays following me. I want a man who can appreciate me as I am. And she was stunned. One classmate asked me, are you sure you and your sister are from the same parents? One colleague, when I said my crush spoke to me, she said you sure he was speaking to you. when someone told her a guy was flirting with me, said are you sure he was flirting? One friend told me all the people here are fat because they are eating so much and i told him, well I am fat too, which he then said oh you are not fat. When I sat down to watch a crush play basketball game, a security guard walked past and told me to my face, people like you, do you think anyone will reciprocate your feelings? And things like this go on and on. And it will never end.

I always tell myself after very conversation "sticks and stone may break my bone but words will never hurt me". I tell myself don't pay heed to people who hurt you, don't mind their words, don't take to heart. But you know, words have their ways on people, the way they seep into your soul and hurt you. They imprint themselves, gnawing at your conscious, brainwashing your mind, tearing your soul. And the damage is done. So, today I still don't dare to believe even if someone did like me, I would brush them off, and or pretend like we're just good friends. I don't understand when someone flirts with me, because I am made to believe that I am not worthy of their attention. I get tongue-tied, I get awkward because in my head you shouldn't be flirting with me, you shouldn't be paying attention to me. 

You see, how damaging words can be. Yeah I am confident in every other thing I do, yet when it comes to myself, I fail. That's how damaged I am.

So people, next time do think a little before you speak, and its not only me who is suffering, people who are fat who are suffering, but generally everybody at one point of their life who have had been made to believe that they weren't important enough, not good enough, not right enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough.

I am damaged. I don't want the future children to face the same that I have or perhaps have done to some others unconsciously. Always encourage each other, lift each other up, try to make everyone smile and maybe one day the world will be a better place

Hard to be me

It's so hard to be me.

I am very conflicting,

i find myself conflicting

more than often confused and confusing

I laugh at one minute

and go depressed in the other

mood's like today's weather

unpredictable and

quite often deadly

I turn here and run there

I say no but my heart is yelling yes

I want to go but

I can just be silly and refuse

just because I can

I don understand myself

you ask me

what's wrong

I say oh oh, everything's perfectly perfect

but my face looks like poop

Everyone says eat less

cause I keep getting fatter

even if I don't eat as much as they do

I left a lot of bad eating habits behind

Do you want to me to finally not eat

and live or thin air

okay, then you eat moderately

do more exercise,

Well, thats where I am at fault

I don exercise well

I can walk bit I can't jog nor run

I can swim but in no gym

I love dancing, but i so miss my dancing partner

I pretend too much

or so i think,

if not i wouldn't have a face like poop

nor would I be running away from friends

I guess I forgotten how to pretend

Or maybe I have grown too attached

and my brain is ordering me

to detach

just like how they put some trypsin

it's feel like time to distance

to avoid

to make sure I never get hurt

to shelter my heart from possible heartache

you see,

even I can't comprehend myself

what more if you think you can

stop deluding yourself

you don't know me and

will never understand me

and I don blame you

Cause I fail to do so myself