tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11569075736248613682024-03-14T02:16:47.542+08:00 entre los dosAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-43016503480358771482016-05-06T07:42:00.001+08:002016-05-06T07:43:19.000+08:00BleachI have been doing nothing to help myself, yet at the same time there is no direction for me to trudge towards. Even so, in a parallel universe, it's not an easy gauge. There is too much swirling. When something bad happens, I can no longer muster any ounce of urgency to instinctively find solutions. I don't try, neither do I wait for change no more. But yet, I am still good with sympathy. Is that my redemption? I sound exhausted. I think I am. I've lost my patience to recover from the fatigue. I've learnt how to sit around with discomfort. I've learnt how to hold my bite.<br />
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There's a kind of pinched mindfulness.<br />
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I want to erase it all.<br />
It's funny, my emotions are starting to feel like cardboard.<br />
Like the trashy bits that stick out of the recycling doors downstairs.<br />
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I want to go back to swimming: it teaches me how to breathe. It's easier to listen to myself in the silence of the water. It's the easiest as you drown.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-64477580898648808772016-04-04T07:18:00.001+08:002016-04-04T07:18:29.299+08:00I've lost all I relied on,<br />
my heart<br />
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won't settle.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-20034409304934130432015-08-08T10:00:00.005+08:002015-08-13T23:07:45.433+08:00Soul Meets Body <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another wet morning over the Jubilee weekend. I began my long break yesterday with some chill buds over coffee and shakes at Tolido's while the rain poured outside, dampening our plans to shoot. Nonetheless conversation flowed as easily as we sipped the drinks down our throats. I love it when friends bring friends, and everyone starts knowing everyone. That just makes existing so much easier. I've never really thought about it too much but all my groups of friends are mutually exclusive. The probability for a Venn diagram to form is essentially zero, each group/individual just happens on their own. But sometimes I like it that way.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-3743431788648779912015-07-30T00:42:00.002+08:002015-07-30T16:01:43.861+08:00Tie The Red Ribbon Round The Tree Bark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: start;">I feel liquid. All I want from another person is to be the vessel that holds me and dictates the form I will take. I would cling to each curve and crevice, yearn to fit and slip into corners of others. I am limp. My identity is clouded. I can't navigate myself. This isn't healthy. I shouldn't need to want this. But the self-doubt has never been stronger. What do I really want?</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-25829853629557479722015-07-29T00:11:00.004+08:002016-05-14T21:00:46.069+08:00I'm Running Out Of Feelings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's true, I really am. I would like to believe I am one that invests in intangible (no)things as much I do materially. Take life in itself in such a perspective: it actually tends to play out as a carefully created portfolio of investments. The compounded experiences you get in return, however, is not always so much dependent on the beta you have chosen to sensitively be analytical of. To put things simply, what I'm trying to say is that there is a lot more considerations and turns in life that we actually make out of. I'm suffering from a splitting headache from almost sleepless nights so I will go ahead and excuse myself of legitimate coherence.<br />
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Has anyone not realised that to be happy, you actually are being vulnerable? Because you are at your least guarded when things get high high (bad Big Bang pun intended). You're in the sky, you're light-headed. But this unbearable lightness of being takes off as quickly as it comes, and we're all aware that this will soon pass. Sometimes I feel afraid to feel anymore, hence why I think I'm running out of feelings, because the death of a feeling I'd been so enticed to would cripple into nothingness, and I've had enough with emptiness. There are days I love where I am, other days I just wished I would...know. Know where I'm taking myself to. But I don't think anyone really does, on days like this.<br />
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I wish there would come a day I could watch myself through another lens and understand what is it that other people see in me, or even just simply the way I am portrayed when I come into their vision. I'm always looking outward, always observing other people. I want to watch the way that other people behave--how they speak, or carry themselves, make conversation, do the things they are passionate about, the way they love--as if I'm trying to absorb bits of them to make myself into a completed person with whatever I have gathered. Often times I feel inspired by those around me, but I never have the energy to reciprocate. When I meet people, I feel like I am vastly more interested in them than they are in me. Call it an inferior complex maybe? I have a green eye for those who can be fearless, who aren't afraid to get themselves out there doing things they love. I don't feel like I can channel myself that way. I try to share myself with those around me as much as I can, because I still strongly believe that's the least you can do to feel genuine about yourself.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-38013774414312790132015-07-08T20:06:00.000+08:002015-07-08T20:06:01.381+08:00Bashodo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I have a confession. </div>
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I don't even know where to begin. </div>
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If anyone had asked me about first loves, this would have had to be it. </div>
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I was never struck before this, but it was so sudden and so sweet, it stole my heart away complete. I go soft in the knees. My legs refuse to walk away. You finally came back, from the land of the Rising Sun and like a spitting ball of fire, blinded me from any carby-sugary restraints I was holding back from. </div>
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Bashodo needs no further introduction. Hailing from Osaka, this hundred odd year old establishment has prided itself on using quality bracken and kinako to bring the best to you. I can vouch for that. The soft chewiness and faint sweetness lingers in your mouth in a way that makes you wanting more. A lot more than the 200g box has to offer. This magical concoction has turned into many of my lunches whenever it arrives annually (or is it bi-annually now?) on our shores. It is not often a dessert makes it as a whole meal for me, and I am, admittedly, a very fussy eater. I can't put this love into words. It fails me. </div>
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I put it into my mouth.</div>
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But it eats me up inside. </div>
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Try it for yourself. I promise you magic. Take the black sesame, take that willing plunge. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-71309664202072511272015-07-07T00:43:00.001+08:002016-01-04T02:14:11.953+08:00LowlightsMany nights of heart-wrenching anxiety and panic attacks later, I'm done with my foundation year. The crippling feeling of doubt and groundless worry that constantly crept its way into many dark winter nights. My first year abroad was a synthesis of happiness, growth and depression at all extremes. It was a maddening time, for many months I ruminated with feelings and people that I should never have invested myself in. At some point I battled with the confusing possibility that I was turning into a masochist, because even during the best of the worst, the seeds of the social blight just seemed to root itself further and further into my soul. It was a leech. To a certain extent, we have a choice of what we hurt over. I had a choice and unconsciously (or maybe otherwise), that's what I chose. Again I levitate towards things I can, or think I can control. I can't decipher this strange and strong need for so much control. Is it who I am, or is it some kind of monster in the making?<br />
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Most times it's not hard to know for yourself. As clouded as we think we are, somewhere at the back of our minds it is always clear. And yet, so easily we still pursue whatever belief we tell ourselves with so much conviction that there are no questions why. But why do we hang on so tightly to that stake (especially) in somebody else's doings? It was like breathing underwater for months, and then I finally asked myself, why did you let yourself hurt like that?<br />
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Pushing the above aside, I'm back home now. I know I'm home when the humidity strikes like a lightsaber waiting to slash me into bits. Upon arrival I've thrown myself into the grind of back-to-back appointments, a summer internship, lunch meetings, wisdom teeth extraction surgery and an unanticipated one-off yoga fling thing at the departure hall of our airport on a Sunday morning.<br />
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In these days of my post-surgery MC, I've taken the liberty to sloth around at home. And in this unproductive period I've come to realise that I am inwardly drawn to people with strong characters and sense of being. And when these said people have an overwhelmingly destructible 'knock-over' kind of enthusiasm, I reel them in even more. It feels like so because it seems like I'm that kind of person too. I am hard to convince and more often than not my 'resting bitch face' doesn't do anything to my lack-of-seeming-interest body language. I don't always mean what I show.<br />
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Have no idea where this post is going, but it's nice to be back here rambling. Ta for now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-76841662104415039072015-01-12T19:27:00.000+08:002015-06-15T23:37:27.021+08:00SqueezeThe uncertainty and anxiety I put myself through is something I like to resonate with myself on a day to (sometimes two) day basis. Knowing that no one but myself can pull me out of this wreck, yet there is something so routine about it that it feels like a part of me already. It's one of the things I want to move away from, to feel about necessary things and not worry about unnecessary things but a lot of times, internally I can't decide if what is adequate now may or may not be the same later on.<br />
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It's been a whole week since I've been back and I can almost be certain that I am settling back in both physically and mentally. My Mondays for this term actually start only at 4pm, which essentially means I have a long weekend in it's own way, but this afternoon I've got talks and meetings right up till my Math seminar starts so that's no fun. I'm so disrupted from my old timetable that I still can't figure out a gym schedule just yet either. I need to make the most out of my £160's worth.<br />
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I came here, actually to just log what I did during my first weekend back. On Saturday I spent the day with the Singaporeans, we went to Sushimania for lunch and only made it to Prime Leaders and realised that all the other letting agents had closed for the weekend so we did errands/groceries and came back to school instead. I had an apple for dinner and called it a night. On Sunday I spent the entire waking day on Skype with my parents and grandma who had came over, basically did work with Mum the entire time and had small talk in between. I used to hate any form of noise while working but that seems to be the only exception I make since being here. I bought a second hand bus ticket and went into town for dinner with Weng, Sharon, Clair and Jo. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I forgot that the whole town literally shuts down on Sundays. We stuffed ourselves in 45mins and went to Starbucks to sit instead after. So that was my weekend. Not a very ideal amount of studying and a satisfactory amount of social interaction.<br />
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Also, I want to start writing poetry again. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05945540283908708125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-30428910009166001662015-01-11T07:06:00.003+08:002015-07-09T01:28:27.924+08:00The Unbearable NothingI don't feel very thankful about being alive today. I mopped about in the morning, spent almost all of it feeling sorry for myself (seemed like the best thing I could do) before I got ready and left the flat to take a bus into town. At least I had good coffee. Here is a slightly contradictory photo of what seems like a smile from this afternoon.<br />
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<span id="goog_1036212785"></span><span id="goog_1036212786"></span><br />
I've poisoned a lot of things that could have happened. I'm interrogating myself: what am I going to do next? My tendencies to question if I should have stayed back has been increasing, peaking at uncomfortably high levels ever since I walked through the boarding gates less than a week ago. I was afraid to be alone and for a while I was scared that was how I'd like to be, but now I'm just scared of the fear. It's a revoltingly twisted issue that keeps twirling around in my head and it's making me dizzy.<br />
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[dislodge]<br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-SG; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-SG; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">I want to make many things happen. Also I want to give back all I can to my parents. I want to be able to embrace appreciation, both receiving it and showing it without tensing up and feeling awkward. It's nice to feel wanted, and it's very humanistic and I want to be able to remember that more this year. Many things bruised me in 2014, but they're fading like old scars. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-68479522060768257132014-12-25T14:31:00.002+08:002015-07-09T01:29:14.738+08:00Barely I've been busying myself very well over the last few days. It's Christmas today, not that it's of any significance to me other than my usual roast turkey meal I get (or am actually making myself this year) at dinner. I barely have 2 weeks left and I'll be back in Brighton again.<br />
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Films I collected yesterday, the first roll is the Brighton/London roll<br />
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He sells the best sundried tomatoes</div>
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The second roll from circa 2013, bits and pieces in Sentosa and Hong Kong<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-82171457731187775582014-12-21T00:49:00.001+08:002015-07-09T01:32:02.877+08:00Hush<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A rare weekend out spent with the forevers in my life. No words necessary.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-29282812008067624472014-12-19T00:31:00.002+08:002014-12-19T11:25:42.071+08:00People I've missed dearly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(cr: <a href="https://greysher.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Gracia</a>)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-6870869432286857902014-12-18T08:34:00.003+08:002014-12-18T08:34:35.404+08:00UpliftersI'm feeling quite calm and serene that I've only got a few pages left to flip on my 2014 planner and then I'll be moving on to my new Kiki.k planner which I've actually already started on. Being very indifferent when people tell me that the year is coming to a close etc., don't feel like time is running out in any way because things will get carried on into the new year in any case. New years seem to have lost it's novelty for me now, maybe I'll get back the excitement when my life gets more exciting/supposedly meaningful and fulfilling.<br />
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Found this extract in one of the older drafts I wrote while I was still in 44D, "I feel like I've deconstructed and pieced myself back together. The fierce want for home and familiarity hits with a kind of rawness sometimes still, especially during late nights. But I've got myself some great company that I wouldn't trade anything for. As much of a poker face I always put up, I feel lots. I align my rationales and judgement with my emotions."<br />
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I've begun to read poetry again, and I think that's calming me down a lot in knowing that a lot of people (or at least the writer) out there are experiencing similar things as I. It's also a sad thing when I read poetry because I realise that I can never express myself as eloquently as these writers do. They use the abstract in creating a concrete and comprehensible (though not always) piece that sounds, looks and reads so beautifully sometimes it makes me want to cry.<br />
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I'm on to Naruto now, while waiting for Suits to release their winter episodes for season 4. I was so skeptical of Naruto at first but Tessa sat me down, made me, and now I can't go back. I have transcended into <i>the</i> realm. So many feels for Kakashi, I can't even-Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-5384326562296731462014-12-17T11:33:00.001+08:002015-08-04T17:45:35.013+08:00Fight the FrightI don't regret the missed opportunities I gave up back when I was in MI. Looking back at the points of my life I keep harping on i.e my bad years circa 2011~2013, I put those against what I have now and realise that it turns out I had nothing to lose. The things/people I lost back then are incomparably subpar to what I've managed to keep. The people, especially. Crashing myself in the past was a stupid move, and I've taken lots of effort to get myself out of the rut I threw myself in, so I'm going to relish and enjoy whatever that comes to my platter now. I'm sick of being sick. And enough about trying to please. I am for myself to please.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-63950245652439427832014-12-15T23:34:00.001+08:002014-12-15T23:34:20.856+08:00FrockingI'm back home in Singapore, in my room, wondering what to do next. I've put off this post (as with many others shoved into the folder of drafts that never make it to the site and eventually get deleted) long enough that I didn't save it, and everything I typed was gone. Have slight recollections writing about something I felt dear about, now that I can't retrieve it/can't remember what's it about maybe on second thought it's not so important afterall.<br />
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On the day of my return I was served literally, a whole pot of my favourite soup. We had steamboat in the evening. The following day popiah was on the table for lunch. I have eaten almost everything I've been craving in the last 3 months in less than a week since coming back. Today I had chocolate truffles for lunch, only because my December goal is to maximise all my kitchen appliances I've missed dearly. My air-fryer (made kale chips), my food processor, my cold-pressed juicer, my waffle maker. I wish I had a dehydrator and a sprializer in my collection, but for now this will suffice.<br />
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Also in the first few days I was constantly drifting in and out of sleep. The flight back was ok, it was my first flight alone, though not really because Anthony was just across the aisle from me. I finished Begin Again and watched 5 episodes of Orange is the New Black before deciding that I didn't like it at all. I tried to start on Gone Girl and I couldn't, so I slept the rest of the way instead. It upsets me that reading and writing doesn't come as easily as it used to anymore.<br />
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While we're on the topic of writing; I am becoming bitterly aware that I can't express myself as coherently as I used to. My style of writing has evolved from something I want to deem 'presentable' to an audience to a rapidly flowing stream of consciousness instead. I have become more aloof, detached and impassive. Wit isn't a priority anymore, I really just ramble and ramble and ramble. Am I getting old too soon?<br />
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A lot of times in the 3 months I was away I felt like there wasn't anywhere I wanted to be. I kept asking myself about the things I could/would do without feeling like it took a lot of effort or felt like I had to force myself to do and I couldn't answer that either. Towards the end of the term things started to get overwhelming and I blocked everyone out again. I started to get impatient, paranoid and insecure again. <i>Again</i>: this word sounds more painful than those ugly traits. It's so much of a vicious cycle, and each time I only end up feeling horrible/regretting. Except this time round, I didn't have people who were used to my bullish crap to sit there and cushion my whack, I learnt mostly the hard way that no one is really going to sit there and let you take a dump on them.<br />
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I am aware I have immensely selfish tendencies. I don't spare anyone of knowing my annoyance, whether it's with said person themself or with something. I don't leave time for tack, I lay the cards out fair and square. Nicely put it's being direct and honest, but really it's being blunt and brutal. The 'me' I was a couple years ago would have thought nothing wrong of this and I would retort that people deserve to know. I would have thought it would be a fair movement for everyone, I let my steam out, the other party knows and can improve. But then as I grew older I realised not everything has to be said. Some things left unsaid are heard louder instead. Not everyone accepts harshness as easily as I do. And being tactful will only bring you further beyond where you would have ever imagined. That draws the line between knowing when to keep things in/to yourself and voicing your opinion. It's an intricate line, and there's a fine balance to keep that yin yang in check. It's still something I'm working on, a lot of times I lose my cool when I'm stressed and I'm stressed almost 90% of the time, only because I like to pressure myself. That has also been something I've been trying to work on.<br />
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Tessa says I seem happier in UK. She came over yesterday and we sat on the sofa talking through the afternoon, I missed that a lot. I miss the comfort I find in our friendship because I know it's a mutual thing when we voice opinions and we take each other seriously. I'm not saying that our seriousness is what makes the friendship exclusive and that every other friendship I have is insincere, it's just the kind of trust that developed over the years and that if I tell her I feel in a certain way and asks her what she thinks, even if she confirms that opinion it doesn't feel like she does it because she feels obliged to or she's merely agreeing with me but it actually holds weight and means something. I'm beginning to appreciate the importance of having people around who have known you for ages. Most of the friends I've kept from various points of my life have known me for more than 5 years, it feels nice to be finally growing up individually and together. I'm starting to say this a lot but I am truly grateful for each small group I have. They are all completely independent of each other but in a way that is something I like about my circle of friends, yet the one thing they all have in common is that I can pull any one in there and talk about lots of things and we can share mostly mutual views about subject x/y/z etc. I also thought about a comparison I was trying to do of: friends in Singapore vs Singaporean friends in UK, there is something different but similar with those 2 groups, I can't quite explain it though.<br />
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I went cycling with Karee in the PM today and I asked her 'do I seem happier now?' and she said yes too, probably because I have no comfort zone to fall back to over there and I throw myself into a survival situation in a way that it is up to myself whether I make it or break it.<br />
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My weeks are packing up well into compact schedules of events, and I'm liking that a lot. I'm still meeting the same groups of friends but with greater frequency and that makes me feel happy inside. I'm slowly overcoming the hurdles and getting myself out of the house. Some days the isolation kicks in and sinks in deep, but mostly I've been out and about, I think that contributes to me portraying myself as a happier person in general. I try to tell myself going out is not a chore.<br />
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Last thing, I got my first case of water retention over the weekend. I'm looking at my feet now and they still look like dumplings to me. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-65182280597191200152014-11-05T18:09:00.001+08:002014-12-19T15:56:38.967+08:00DescendThings that top my list of priorities when lectures are cancelled include making granola. Activating/sprouting my nuts and seeds here is so much quicker on the electric hob than using the broken oven back home. I opted out of my usual grain of choice — buckwheat — and used the oats from Sainsbury we got in my first week here instead. So this is a batch of maca-cinnamon granola on top of some acai soy yogurt.<br />
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The weather digits have been diving down in the past week, it is almost my every reason to skip classes and not leave the flat. I can't even be arsed to take myself to the gym up on the hills, and that says a lot.
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I did manage to drag myself there on Saturday though, when it was still double-digit weather and not disgustingly cold. Views from outside the library. Autumn is really here.<br />
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And then walking back to Northfield</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">This was a photo Belle sent to us yesterday, when Mantell offered something decent for once</span></div>
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And more while I was walking back from class</div>
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Feels like my grades are dropping as quickly as the leaves are. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-33560575089760727382014-10-29T17:49:00.005+08:002014-12-19T15:55:21.703+08:00Hump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have adopted a perspective where I imagine myself to be dead to calm myself down. I sit here, dead in the night and early in the morning, and most of the time I do things that don't turn out to be anything. I panic, then I find myself coming here again. It's an outlet but it's not. When I hit "publish" I go back to imagining being dead again.<br />
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It's Wednesday morning and I've been sat here for ~20mins, I did 2mins of essay reading then I came on here. The sunlight is coming in through the window in thick folds. A thing I like about this room is the window. I've got almost a full floor to ceiling window, though the bottom is frosted glass, and this year I've been lucky with the weather and the sun shines through many days. The infamous English weather has hit me in bits and pieces, but not in full-blown hail and storms yet, for that I'm thankful.<br />
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Another thing I'm happy about with this room is that it faces the forest, also thankfully not the part where there is trash (like the view from the kitchen). Some mornings I see people walking through the tracks, I think I might do that some time this week when the weather is lovely. I'm going to miss this when we move in town next year, though save the inconvenience of having to trek back home everyday.<br />
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Am about to set myself into a mode of intensively hysterical 30mins of typing for my essay before I leave the room to meet Belle. When I find a free day next week I think I'm going to walk around town alone, and might do a day in Hove when I feel like venturing out.<br />
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Last night we found a 'kind-of' solution for our housing woes, and please may the almighty Housing Gods bless us through and through. I can't imagine living without anyone else but those 3, who now know what is almost the darkest of my darkest. And who got to understand me impressively quickly. It must be the bouts of fate right? I am quite/very certain about this, and I say this with 99% confidence and great tenacity that they will vouch for me in whatever, whenever, and I will do the same.<br />
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Also a lesson I learnt this morning: never ship anything in from outside of the UK. Bloody VAT be the bane of my stomach's existence for charging me and Joy a tax on our order. Hell.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-14014499399034444312014-10-28T07:47:00.001+08:002014-12-21T00:51:00.486+08:00Camden Lock/London<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On Saturday our train pulled into London Victoria by mid morning. I felt an instantaneous blow of "Londonness" the moment we stepped off the train, I could feel the buzz and rush just walking through the ticket gantry. We headed for the tube; us girls went off to Gloucester for Belle to drop her belongings and Anthony left us to go to ComCon.<br />
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We had another bout of train changing before we finally arrived at Camden Town around, noon I would say.<br />
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I was determined to get myself to Inspiral, which we eventually found. Did a takeaway salad box (which turned out small, over-priced and not particularly tasty) and we shared 3 raw cakes - passionfruit cheesecake, a chocolate ganache thing and a cacao hazelnut...thing. I thought it was a way better rendition of raw desserts compared to Living Cafe back home. There was hardly a hint of coconut and that already ticks all my boxes in a raw dessert. I can only consume coconuts fresh and in whole form. Please do not put them in my raw desserts. Coconut is nono-nut. Just. No.<br />
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Guys I'm actually sitting <i>on the floor</i></div>
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Camden was mostly a reminiscence of Bangkok, all the stalls were selling basically the same things, and mostly for prices unacceptable to a student's pocket. Maybe we didn't get to the gems, but we left by mid afternoon for Oxford Street anyway. Spent a good bulk of time in Topshop before getting into a flurry relocating Anthony with a dying/receptionless phone.<br />
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Nando's for dinner just because.<br />
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It felt like a short but long day. Anthony and I took the train back to Brighton and the other two stayed on. Everyone is back now, and reading week work is starting to kick in full swing. Mostly since I spent 95% of my Sunday passing time.<br />
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Autumn is officially here with the clocks having gone back an hour. I also just edited my countdown timer to my flight home, since I changed my flight to 12hrs earlier ;) Just a little over a month till I'm back to my daily soups and sunny pool side. 38 days!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-22773153285287829202014-10-24T18:05:00.002+08:002014-10-24T18:11:14.253+08:00StreetsThis morning's seminar was cancelled while I was walking to it so when I came back I vacuumed my room and now I'm sat here thinking about coming up with a massive update but I might end it abruptly anyway.<br />
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I had my first assessed group presentation yesterday and I think we did fairly well. It was a less intense repeat of PW turmoil again with last minute add-in(s) and sorts, but I think my group pulled it off. Its hard to estimate a grade though, and I reckon my anxiety levels are going to peak going for each seminar till I find out.<br />
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I have been lucky with the weather so far. It was lovely last weekend, I'm hoping for lovely weather tomorrow in London. Last Saturday I did a big workout with Joy at the gym up the hill after a week of inactivity. It was another sedentary week again, I am going to force myself up the hill next week everyday during term break. The sun is currently shining right on my back, really I'm just soaking up whatever there's left of Brighton's sun. It's turning chilly now, and the sun can be deceiving. This Sunday summer will be officially over, and I will be an extra hour further away from home.<br />
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Life has been school and school has been life. It's suffocating most of the time, I'm 42 days away from liberation. As thankful as I am for term break that officially starts in 4hrs from now, the to-do list on my planner is constantly at the back of my mind. Readings and essays and presentations and oh my god, I can feel anxiety creeping up again just typing these words.<br />
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Calm calm calm, I'm going to be calm and have a poker face about it.<br />
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Post insanity was insane because I still didn't break a sweat. STILL.</div>
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Dinner last Sunday, mushrooms brussel sprouts tomatoes applesauce mustard pork</div>
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Whatever-I-have-in-the-fridge-I-will-throw-into-a-bowl</div>
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Granola. Nuts. Buckwheat. Soy milk. I do not need to elaborate.</div>
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What 50% of my lunches looked like this week. And most of the time eating at 4PM. That also means no dinner. Which is completely unheard of if in Singapore.</div>
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This is how I make my pancakes. In a pot. </div>
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And then I eat with my hands by the window. Very classy.</div>
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Rehearsals in the kitchen</div>
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Lunch box specimen 1. Throwing whatever I can into the oven at 8am in the morning before a 9am class.</div>
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Breakfast yesterday. Mashed avocado for the 1st time because I couldn't not buy 4 avocados for 99p which I later had to find someone to split with. Of course I couldn't not feature Biona bread. </div>
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Lunch box specimen 2. Another throw in the oven before yet another 9am class.</div>
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Taking close up photos of capsicums for friends who hate them >:)</div>
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Monday night when they came over to my flat/room</div>
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We're off to Sushimania tonight and some groceries. I am now sipping on tea while doing readings for essays. It's going to be a good day.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-76590460196268761472014-10-15T18:47:00.000+08:002014-10-16T02:19:49.082+08:00Over my past four weeks at University, I have learnt that regardless of what your lecturers/tutors say, doing work at the last minute is the most product and efficient way of churning out a work of (at least) acceptable standard. That is, only if you're a fully-functioning human being under pressure. I spent last night burning the first of my midnight oils here, with my heater on and Adam Levine in the background, yakking on the phone about international school pains with Fanxin, only with the intention of trying to complete half an essay draft and half of a presentation draft. There are lots of trust issues when you're thrown into a class like this. <i>Lots.</i> Believe you me.<br />
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I am approximately 50 hours away from my bus ride to town. I'm also in a business management seminar "researching for academic writings" for my essay due in three weeks. It's 11:47AM and it feels like 11:47PM.<br />
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Ok, I'm going to watch a Porter 5 model video to stay awake. Ta.<br />
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This is what I wake up to each morning</div>
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My baby growing well after my massive snip for a basil chicken stir fry</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-32468031596409445542014-10-15T02:29:00.002+08:002014-10-15T02:29:41.482+08:00Munch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
These updates wouldn't be right if I didn't do a post solely dedicated to food. Am I right or am I right. This is a mish mash of things that have gone into my mouth, in no order of sorts.</div>
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A veggie box at Borough Market. Was so bummed we didn't finish the whole market. </div>
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Got this box of grills just before leaving the market. Prawns here don't taste as nice as the ones back home. </div>
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Foodilic at Western Road. The 'upgraded' version of the buffet on North Street. Their kale salad was delightful and the cauliflower was yummy, but it stretches the poor student's pocket so I'll just stick to the buffet that I've gone to. Four times since I've been here.</div>
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Look at my Moomin sweats. I adore them. </div>
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I spent my entire weekend in them.</div>
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I also spent my entire weekend being all degrees Asian, starting with a breakfast of steamed eggs and bamboo pith soup because I just really want Mummy's home made soups. I've gone for a month without lotus root. I'm adding that to my resume of life achievements.</div>
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Processing: minestrone soup.</div>
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Sundried tomatoes and pimento stuffed olives for lunch today. Got these at the Farmer's Market.</div>
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Chicken in spicy preserved beancurd over a bed of spring greens, which taste a lot like kailan. Only 69p too!</div>
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Enamel plates are a life saver here. This was a night of roasted vegetables from whatever I could reach for in my over-stuffed shelf.</div>
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Reminiscing the last of my kamut puff rations. More should be coming in a day or two, because Joy and I placed a massive iHerb order. Breakfast will be in order again. Meanwhile, I've made pancakes and sweet potato brownies this week. </div>
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The Farmer's Market in school. </div>
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Anthony's massive carrot cake that smelled delightful but didn't attract me. I took this photo for Mum because, Mum, carrot cakes.</div>
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Lemon sole at Regency. A lovely seafood place for good prices too.</div>
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A pulled pork sandwich Mum had at the Brighton & Hove Food Festival. </div>
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My first taste of Foodilic, a take-away box from the branch at Western Road before I discovered the buffet on the other end of the street.</div>
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Poached pears and chicken salad in London. This was blow-my-mind standard. I loved it. </div>
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Behold, I had to save the best for last. The mighty buffet I've been raving about throughout this whole post. I will never tire.</div>
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One of my many, many, many, many, many plates there.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-51896588005955529532014-10-15T02:18:00.002+08:002014-10-15T02:18:34.484+08:00Bath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I uploaded some photos from my Canon this afternoon and found some snaps we took while in Bath. It was unfortunate we didn't leave time to explore the quaint, quiet town. I reckon this is somewhere near Hannah's hometown, and it was one of the only places that had me in awe. It was old, as per all cities and towns in the UK, but it had a special little something about it.<br />
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Surprisingly, as much as there being a tea-centric culture here, I've not step foot into a single tea room despite being the tea fanatic I am. I've either been grabbing a quick Pukka tea bag in the mornings before class or dumping some green tea leaves I brought from home into my cup when I have more time. I really haven't found anything interesting about tea here other than the fact that Infinity Food stocks a whole shelf of Pukka tea which makes me happy. </div>
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Truth to be told I think I just haven't found a reason, or time to embrace some British culture yet. I don't egg for it. A part of this post also reminds me lots of how much I don't let go of home, and I hold on to every part that allows me to. Yesterday my flat mate commented that I was texting lots, and he asked who was I talking to all the time. I said different people and groups. He shakes his head whenever I mention the countdown I've set for my flight home. Will this ever get any better? :(</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-19425218995760236702014-10-14T07:50:00.000+08:002014-10-14T07:50:06.858+08:00xxxIt's been another long while.<br />
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We've crept halfway through October and that makes it slightly over a month in a new country. I've gotten used to a new currency in my wallet, the dirty streets and the infamous English weather. When I say I've gotten used to the weather, that is in no way synonymous to acclimatization. I shiver most hours of the day still. What I'm referring to is the need to have an umbrella in every bag you carry and that hoods on jackets are an essential requirement of life. I don't ever think I will grow to enjoy this weather, and the people who I've watched online for years make autumn and winter sound fantastic but really it's dreadful and I'd rather be sitting by the pool in my 30C heat back home.<br />
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It has been refreshing though, this move. I'm sat at my desk, having broken away from a night of online shopping and presentation research. I've finally put homesickness at the back of my mind, and I've formed a routine of cooking, studying, trying to be social, hand-washing clothes, going to the launderette and taking a bus into town once a week just so I can get out of school for a tiny bit. I can't say I love Brighton, because I really don't. I don't understand why the English rave about this place, but at the same time I do. I don't want to, and shouldn't complain, because I've still been eating and living well. I've received 2 parcels from home (1 was medicine since my immunity is negative here, the other was mum's little something) and I'm expecting 2 more, also a delivery from Topshop and iHerb. Receiving mail over here feels slightly more of an adventure, because it doesn't come to my bedroom door via Dad at night but me having to walk out to the reception and opening the mailbox to see if I have a chit to retrieve at the counter.<br />
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I've grown to be comfortable in this room. I stayed in my room the whole of yesterday. Most of my flat mates are wonderful and friendly. There is the (growing) occasional noise but I try to accommodate and be social. Our kitchen is in a constant mess, and I'm becoming increasingly ok with it. Living here has been the truest, purest test of my patience and I think I'm coping relatively well.<br />
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I've been making lots of the same kinds of food, mostly because there is only so much a student can afford. The Foodilic buffet on North Street has turned into a weekly place to go to. I miss soups at home so, so much. I reckon it'd be the some of the only things I'll be eating when I'm home this year end.<br />
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Every Tuesday there's a farmers market at the union square, and I've gone for every single one since I got here. I'm going again tomorrow, maybe to get some sundried tomatoes and definitely some celeriac. A thing about being here is that I'm trying all the vegetables that are ridiculously priced at home for cheap. That's nice. I snap lots of photos for my conversations. Another thing here is the soy yogurt I eat almost every morning for breakfast. I wish Singapore did something about our uncomforting yogurt choices. My favourite is the new zero sugar one from Provamel, which I get from Taj the Grocer for 99p for a 500g tub. I always buy 2 at a go. I've also found Biona bread, something I've wanted to try for a long while. Twice I've gotten the rye variety. I might get a new one the next time.<br />
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In about a week and a half we have our mid-terms break. The group of us are planning a day trip up to London. I've got the Veggie Table @ Borough Market on my to-go list, and also Wild Life Eatery, perhaps for some dinner with Hannah. There are so many wonderful raw restaurants in London, I don't think I would ever cover them all. I hope we go pass Kesington Street, and I can pop into Wholefoods.<br />
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Nothing is quite a pocket full of posies, but I reckon it will get better in time. I'll do photos another time maybe. Time for bed.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-10689371435728460692014-09-08T19:40:00.000+08:002014-09-08T19:40:42.935+08:00Three DaysThe airbnb place on Over Street turned out to be lots smaller than I thought it would be. Our toilet is tiny and everytime I wash my face the sink is so narrow I feel like I'm kissing the wall. Everything is adapting; my face is drying out, I'm moisturizing twice a day, I'm wearing jeans everyday, I've memorized a phone number 16 digits long and I have to wear slippers around the house. As rosy as the ideal situation was posed to be, it is nothing but lots of thorns of pricks. Everyone is touchy and tired and I'm honestly quite sick of it all. I wish I had some time alone.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1156907573624861368.post-13358188203499990922014-09-04T14:19:00.001+08:002014-09-04T14:19:49.760+08:00Being uncomfortably sore about leaving tonight, sitting on the wooden floor of my bedroom repeating "I don't want to leave". Cried for so long last night my eyes still hurt and 3 episodes of Suits didn't even make it better Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0