My cousin, Naz, and I get along really well but when it boils down to recreational activities, we are polar opposites. Despite her sweet and gentle posterior, I can imagine she signs up for every adventure camp her school offers because whenever I check my Facebook news feed, she’s either trekking in some jungle in Vietnam, surfing in Bali or climbing a mountain. As for me, I like to have my feet firmly on the ground, preferably on the light marble tiles you find in malls. And the only mountain I’m willing to climb is the harrowing flight of stairs up to Zara.
So when Naz came over for a holiday in Melbourne, I knew I had to grapple with my aversion towards the great outdoors (or outback, rather lol). Perhaps it was my knowledge of the city or my easy going nature – I still don’t know what possessed my cousin to entrust me with creating an itinerary for her holiday. Itineraries are serious business. I had to find the delicate balance between the great adventures Naz preferred *shudder* and my own brand of physical recreation: SHOPPING!
And that’s how we ended up on a full day tour of the Great Ocean Road. No messy diving suits to put on, no skiing gear and just miles of beautiful scenery. My kinda shiz. It’s a winding 3 hour drive from the main city to the actual stretch of cliffs and ocean. I thought I would be prepared for the meandering ride after childhood holidays in both Cameron and Genting Highlands but dude, I had the most intense headache along the way. Thankfully, there were plenty of stops for us to get down, stretch our legs and take in the sights or breakfast would’ve ended up on my lap srsly.
And the sights? Unlike anything I’ve seen before. We got to climb down a cliff and walk around the beach too. I’m not gonna lie – as I heard that telltale crunch when my shoe soles made contact with the wet sand, I grimaced. Hard.
I hate dirtying my shoes omg, I AM SUCH A GIRL SRSLY. I’ll let the pictures do the rest:
Towards the end of the tour, they drove us to this stunning place called the Loch Something (I wasn’t paying attention rofl, I was busy cleaning my shoes by doing a lil moonwalk on the gravel). The sun was setting behind the cliffs and for once, everyone stopped snapping photos and just stood with their significant others, savouring the sunset whilst locking hands with each other. That moment was magic. But sorely lacking in the love department and not wanting to feel out of place, I did the most ridiculous thing: I watched the sunset whilst holding onto a feather I found HAHAHA WTF. TRUE INNER ZEN, PEOPLE! Anyway, I think that’s the last time I’ll ever try romancing with a feather…
p.s my giveaway is ending tomorrow, please join if you haven’t! And if you have, thank you for submitting your entries! I love reading all your feedback on what you’d like to see on tea noir, it is certainly time for some change!
OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OHHHH *FLICKS HIJAB*
I try to make it a point to buy something special whenever I’ve accomplished something academically. This Yves Saint Laurent Arty Ring in Lapis is payback for my daily grind of red bulls, readings and slathering pimple cream on my face for the past 1.5 years. I know there has been a huge influx of fashion bloggers who own the Arty Ring (some even call this “THE blogger ring”) but I don’t care for the alleged negative connotations behind owning it. I have been waiting to purchase this beauty for an entire year now – 6 months to decide that this ring was everything I wanted (at that time anyway) and another 6 months to wait for the ring to be restocked in my size. There is not a single YSL boutique in Melbourne, can you believe it? Scandalous. I bought this the day I arrived in Singapore while meeting my cousins for dinner and I think I must have made them shell shocked when I handed over my credit card to the SA at YSL, they probably thought I was joking LOL SRY GIRLS! x
Also, some drama: If you discount the takoyaki party I held for my close friends when I turned 21, my birthdays are usually simple affairs. This year’s, however, was a little unconventional. At the stroke of midnight on the 27th of June, my cousins and I were singing “GO SHORTY IT’S YO BIRTHDAY, WE’RE GONNA PARTY LIKE IT’S YO BIRTHDAY” and IT’S A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT, WE’RE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING DUMB TO DOOOOO” as loud as our chocolate chip cookie-filled mouths could manage before falling asleep without actually marrying anyone (confused? click on the link lol).
Two hours later, my roommate (read: she’s also my cousin) woke me up, red-faced and breathing heavily while telling me that she was having trouble breathing due to her asthma. The worst bit of all: she had just run out of medication. I think my mind must have went on hyperdrive then. All of us sprang out of bed; my other cousin ran to my roommate’s room and grabbed all her important documents while I called for an ambulance. I’m actually pretty darn amazed I remembered which number to call in my frazzled state because the emergency numbers in Australia and Singapore are completely different. My other cousin ran down to wait for the ambulance and I stayed with my roommate, pretending that I had everything under control but in actuality, I was so close to breaking down in tears myself.
The paramedics arrived and took her to the hospital where she was rushed to the emergency ward for treatment. We slept in the waiting room in the weirdest positions – you gotta hand it to us for finding ways to sleep on those uncomfortable plastic chairs lol. At 5am, the doctors finally called us in to see my roomie and thankfully, there was nothing critically wrong with her body. My roomie got discharged in the evening that same day too, thank god. This was not how I imagined my 23rd birthday would be like but all that drama aside, I helped to save someone’s life which is probably going to score me some super karma points. Plus, I get to tick “Get a ride in an ambulance with a hot paramedic reminiscent of a young Prince William” off my bucket list too XD OH YES I DID LULZ
I’m heading to Malaysia over the weekend to meet Aaron again and do a little shopping, can you believe it’s been half a year since our first meeting? Our sense of time is so warped sometimes. GIVEAWAY ENTRY COMING UP NEXT and it is much more exciting in terms of prizes than my last one, you don’t want to miss it! See you guys soon x
Charlotte
In response to Sofia Coppola’s film, Lost in Translation (2003).
Crumpled sheets and a hotel with no name.
He leaves her with a kiss that bruises her knees.
She looks below and sees the city,
Atlantic lights playing with red blue pink orange gold.
It has a different smell from her New York but tastes the same.
Urban trees bear the same fruit,
packaged under a different name.
The streets are beaten with stilettos
And pelted with runaway stars.
She can tell them apart after the third day,
they watch her as she watches them
The Shibuyas.
Same streaks of blonde,
fake like her pink hair,
But their renegade dreams too real.
The rain looks like it touches her
But it doesn’t, her 100 yen shield.
Transparent, it unfolds onto the skies,
turns back time
And removes his kiss.
The city was hers, not his.
She went as far as Kyoto,
Snaking through carmine temples,
Where monks painted loneliness on her wrists.
But she didn’t leave and still by the window,
Toe nails painted red, she whispers “Goodbye, Tokyo.”
- For Aaron.
Poetry Final Collection of 10 poems, 15.04.2011
Oh my gosh, my Poetry results came out today and I scored 90/100 for it..I’m stunned, speechless etc I can’t even think properly right now so please forgive my garble! It’s not in my nature to be shy about things but I rarely ever show my “real” writing to people other than myself. Writing is, I suppose, one of the areas I’m convinced I will never be good at. Fortunately, my Singaporean mentality comes in handy in such instances, rejecting the thought of failure and reminds my frail ego to toughen up or risk upsetting my mother by getting a B. Tough love – that’s just the way it is with Asian parents.
Most people would be stumped when asked to name their favourite movie but I can honestly say nothing has ever topped Lost in Translation in my mind’s eye. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and it still is. Its soundtrack is perfection and while the ending doesn’t make me bawl like it used to, I still appreciate the mystery it leaves me with. I have always, always wondered what happens to Scarlett Johansson’s character, Charlotte, after the movie and this poem is my personal response to that. If you have watched the film, I do hope you enjoy this poem and if you haven’t, what are you waiting for omg? Watch it!
As with all my best and favourite poems, Charlotte is dedicated to my best friend, Aaron. He’s the only person who gets my obsession with Lost in Translation because he’s obsessed with it himself! Plus I send him all my poem drafts and he reads them without complaint, stepping in only when he sees something he dislikes to say “OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS EMO SHIT” HAHAHAHAHA I love you bb! Aaron thinks Charlotte is my best poem yet and I sorta agree – it’s going to be difficult surpassing my borrowing of Sofia Coppola’s magic in Lost in Translation. I don’t know if I should post the rest of my poems up on tea noir since poetry isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I figured I’ll start and leave you with my best.
tea noir will be back to regular programming next week! Hello to my new readers and thank you so much for leaving me a comment! 
I know there’s a ton of comments I haven’t replied to in my last two entries but I will get back to you guys over the next couple of days. So much drama happened during my birthday but more on that later! I have to start packing urgh, my flight back home is in 3 days!
I love it when my girlfriends and I get together for dinner. Somehow the best conversations always seem to be formed during the great wait for your food to arrive from the kitchen. The other night we were trading relationship horror stories (the ones where you start with “omg you wouldn’t believe what this douche did to a girl I used to know”) and a friend who’d never dated before exclaimed that hearing all these stories made her fear relationships even more because everyone seems to get hurt/cheated on.
She does have a point. The stories of ever after and true love have become less apparent, less heard of, while botched fairy tales where the girl gets dumped have quickly risen to become a staple topic at girly dinners. But honestly, I think getting dumped may not necessarily be as terrible as it is made out to be. Of course, if your ex-boyfriend was a lying, cheating bastard who dumped you for another girl, then yes, I will be signing my name on your petition to have him sterilized and sent to live among sheep.
But what if he broke up with you because you weren’t the greatest girlfriend? And that you weren’t the flawless female you thought you were? If that is the case, then the break-up serves as a way to re-examine yourself, to discover the flaws you subconsciously knew you had all along but never took notice of – I mean, who likes admitting they have flaws right? You can cry for a month but you have to realise that there has to be a reason why your boyfriend left your purported perfection to cruise the highway for singles once more. And while it stings like a mother to admit that you were the main cause of the break-up, good news is you finally have time to work out what actually went wrong, to brush away the thin shroud of denial that once comforted you and slowly, work on diminishing your weaknesses.
Being in close contact with a person gives you awareness of how you behave in private: you show a ‘secret’ side of you, a certain vulnerability that your family and best friends never get see – I think this is the ultimate reason why even the most mutual break-ups hurt. But it’s okay. Every break-up we go through only serves to make us stronger and a little closer to figuring out how relationships work. And slightly twisting a song title from Daft Punk, we all emerge hardened, better, faster and stronger. Whether your past relationships have been happy or progressed into grisly horror flicks, I think we all can learn a lot about ourselves from being romantically involved with a person. Of course, I am in no way recommending that you throw yourself on the next available guy mmkay!
Ok is this blog turning into a relationship advice column or what lol? I have to apologize, some of my girlfriends flew in from Singapore last week and god, it’s been so long since I’ve had a girly dinner with people my age so the stuff we talk about is bound to end up on this blog ^_^; Oh and one more thing I like about girly dinners? The bitching fest that comes with dessert 8D
Some photos from last week:
1. My vegie burrito from Vegie Bar: Refried beans wrapped in a tortilla and nacho chips with sour cream and guacamole.
2. If these blended fruit juices had come in shorter glasses, they would’ve deceptively looked like potent cocktails.
3. My friend’s wild mushroom risotto from Vegie Bar.
4. Coffee stop at the Sensory Lab.
5. Showing my friends from Singapore my favourite graffiti wall in Melbourne.
6. Chicken paella at the Morrocan and Spanish restaurant, La Paella, off Sydney Road.
7. With a name like Van Gogh, this has to be the prettiest cake in the world.
8. Is it safe to say we will never run out of cakes in Melbourne?
Excerpt from After the Park by Felicity Plunkett.
Things fade and fail, but not the dream – Gwen Harwood
Noon emptied the park like a death.
Vanished skies swung crying.
The last woman, lingering,
I pushed the beads of a plastic abacus:
counted my losses. At night
my dreams rolled back to taste your trace
and I sailed their upswing
woke to the jolt of their stop:
salt mornings; hope’s flaking away.
But what if it were not
too late? What if, as you turned
and left our accidental meeting –
our unrehearsed universe
pressed between pages of unwritten notes –
I called your name?
I don’t fall in love often. I think when you’ve had your first one, two, maybe 10 relationships, you start noticing there are some things you absolutely can’t stand about a person and some things you adore. Then, based on the skeletons of your failed relationships, you start mapping, in your mind, the ideal partner you hope and seek to fall in love with. The problem many women and I have in common is that we’re just too damn picky. Our standards sometimes border on the ridiculous:
1) Has to be hotter than James McAvoy.
2) Has to be a writer or be able to write beautifully*
3) Understands what Prada means to me**
*My friend told me last night that I should give this up because, and I quote, “In Singapore, you’d be lucky to find a guy who can even form a proper sentence.” Not true, obviously but I think it does give you a slight indication of the kind of single men I have to deal with in Singapore.
** I’m only half-joking.
The thing is I’ve been single for 3 years now and I think part of the reason why it’s so awesome to be single is that you get to hang out with your other single friends! You know, the ones who can confirm that they’ll be meeting you for lunch instead of cancelling with a sad text: “Eek Ilyana I’m so sorry it’s just that my boyfriend has this thing he has to go to and he doesn’t really want to go so he’s asked me to go and I can’t say no because I feel bad and I love him and he- OH MY GOD I DON’T CARE. Srsly, single girls will reach this phase where they realise all their other single friends are no longer single *shriek* And when you see how happy your newly taken friends are, you start turning your back against the Ya-Ya single sisterhood and start pining for love.
It happened to me this semester when I met an amazing writer and no, it wasn’t love at first sight – I just fancied his intelligent ways, you know? ;D Meanwhile, my mind was constantly swamped by thoughts of him and it got to the point where I couldn’t take this b/s so I figured I should get to know the guy more before I decide if he was going to be the love of my life or not. I did and while I admired his knack for writing brilliant prose, we had nothing in common. Now I know having nothing in common never stopped anyone from falling in love but as the night progressed, I understood that what I did like wasn’t him to begin with: It was the idea of romance.
It’s tricky, this romance thing. Sometimes you think you may have feelings for a person but other times, it’s just the thrill, the idea of romance that clouds your judgement and manipulates you with images of decadence, roses and “Meals For Two” cookbooks. Maybe I’ve been single for far too long to be sucked in by the cheesiness of romance but I suppose this means my heart is capable of feeling love for something that doesn’t involve shopping. That’s comforting.
I can’t believe I’m making my return to blogging with an entry detailing my failed romance that never was lol! Well, I’m sure my mother would be very pleased with my still sorely single state. How has everyone been? I’ve had the most intense month in school ever omfg, I swear this semester is the worst one I’ve been through. I had to write about 12,000 words in essays and blog posts for my finals this time and it was absolutely horrendous. I spent the last week in my pjs, just writing and writing. Of course, I had a bit of fun writing a 2,500 word dissertation on Sex and The City, I’m going to be so pissed if I don’t get a distinction for that because I werqed those Manolo Blahniks fo’ reals.
Now that I’m officially on holiday, I’ve got a couple of entries lined up and that giveaway I’ve been wanting to do! I can’t wait to read and catch up with everyone’s blogs, it has been too long since I’ve had time for myself and this blog. Also, helloooo new readers! I’m sorry the first entry you guys prolly had to read was my pronunciation guide to tea noir, oops! I suppose I can count on everyone to pronounce it correctly now, huh? ;p
Anyway, imma brb for a bit guys, I need to indulge in some DVDs before I can blog full time (and because I fricking deserve it):
Somewhere (2010), Sofia Coppola.
The Delicious Miss Dahl (2010), Sophie Dahl.
The French Kissers/Les Beaux Gosses (2009), Riad Sattouf.
2 Days in Paris (2007), Julie Delpy.
p.s My best friend, LK, has started blogging! Check out his blog: Dejiki.com. He has a bit of an obsession with theme parks and he takes amazing photos too
At the beginning of the semester, I became friends with a Colombian guy who had lived in Australia for 5 years prior to our meeting. He asked me where I was from and when I replied that I was from Singapore, he said in a nonchalant manner, “Hey isn’t Singapore under a dictatorship?” I was moments away from launching into my “WEI DON’T TALK BAD ABOUT SINGAPORE HOR!” tirade when I realized, holy shit – he wasn’t entirely wrong.
I do think we live in some sort of happy dictatorship and as much as we see the flaws in the way we are ruled, we push our acknowledgement of these flaws to the bare edges of memory, to prevent the shattering of this illusion of contentment – unless, of course, it concerns money, rising costs of living (still money), foreign workers stealing our jobs (wait for it – still money).
When I first started living in Melbourne, I was mildly surprised to find how journalists are so open in the press. Sure, the main newspapers in Australia are owned by media conglomerates with individual political and economical agendas that poses its own sets of problems and influences the way news are written. Still, I believe it’s a better situation than what we have in Singapore where most, if not, all media is state-controlled.
According to the Press Freedom Index, Singapore ranks, I dare say it, a pathetic 136 out of 178 positions. We are tied with Mexico and in contrast, Australia is at #18. America? #20. Japan? #11. We are doing slightly better than our neighbour, Malaysia, who ranks at #141 but you know what, Indonesia is in at #117 man WHERE IS THE JUSTICE? Let me tell you where it’s at – justice is slowly reclaiming itself in Iraq who ranks in at #130. That’s right. We, the citizens of Singapore, have less press freedom than Iraq and other developing nations.
What does this tell me? We are a developed nation and yet our press is undeveloped in printing our nation’s ideas. Singapore is filled with bright minds, swelling with plans that are more substantial than what the word ‘prosperity’ has to offer. These minds have imagined what our current government still believes is unimagined and are quick to snuff out the bright flame of their visions.
I’m not saying I’m anti-PAP or pro-Opposition. In fact, I am still undecided over which party I’ll be rooting for to win this coming Elections. I respect what the PAP has done for our country but isn’t it time for a little more freedom in the press? Singapore deserves to know more about the myriad of plans the different parties contesting have to offer. Taking care of your people takes a lot more than just transferring money in our bank accounts on 1st of May so we can party like it’s our birthday, you have to know us. Even the ones who oppose your ideals.
And this is where I stop procrastinating on my school work lol. An anti-climatic end but I’m afraid if I went on any further, I might get into trouble with the government ;p Remember to vote wisely, guys! Attend as many rallies as possible and learn more about each party’s plans for Singapore – because you sure as hell won’t find them in the press.
Spilling out from the 19th century Royal Exhibition Building and into the Carlton Gardens, the Melbourne International Flower Show was a random event I went to last week with my platonic date of choice: The enigmatic Yumi. Just how beautiful is the Royal Exhibition Building from the inside? I had my Japanese exam here last year and I probably wasted the first 15 minutes of my allocated exam time distracted by the wondrous paintings that line the giant arches. It’s a spectacle on its own, really. It’s almost always closed to the public so I try to find some excuse to enter the building again! I wish I’d taken a photo of the building’s exterior too, it is just as majestic. Meanwhile, you can check out the building’s wiki page for photos if you are ever so inclined. Did I mention it’s a World Heritage Site? God, I was just reading up the list of World Heritage Sites and I’m outraged that Singapore’s not on it! What the fork, guys! WE HAVE HAW PAR VILLA MMKAY!
What else can I say about flower shows, apart from them being very, very beautiful? It’s almost like a giant Monet painting had come to life, especially when paired with such Victorian settings. I had to buy a couple of things for the garden back home on my mother’s insistence (honestly, I think she was more excited about the flower show than I was and she wasn’t even there!) I’m still trying to think of ways to fit a silver floral-embellished watering can, a filigree lantern and a vase into my suitcase.
Anyway, I hope these photos brighten up your day! Flowers are inherently romantic, aren’t they? Sorry I disappeared last week, I had a lot of assignments due and I still do sigh. 2 more essays to go before Easter rings in with an extremely desirable one week break!
I’ve been switching between tea and Red Bull all week, I don’t think it’s very healthy but I’m hoping my increased tea intake will cancel out whatever bad effects prolonged intake Red Bull might have on my body. Diet-wise, I’ve been cooking a lot the past week so it’s nice to have control over my nutrition again. Sorry I don’t have any recipes to share though: I’m in this ‘home food’ phase so I’m cooking dishes the rest of the world would rather not know lol aka SAMBAL PETAI OMFG I CRY. Petai in English would probably mean ‘stink bean’ and yeah well, that’s all you need to know rofl. I wouldn’t consider it a delicacy but it’s certainly an acquired taste.
Slight digression but long before the advent of FaceBook, the kids in my school would pass around diaries for each person to write their ‘profile’ in and I remember distinctly it was a trend then to write “mom’s cooking” under the Favourite Food section. OMG SUCH LITTLE LIARS PLX! If 11-year-old me had my way, I would be eating kebabs and pizza for every meal. Well, a decade later and I take it back. After living in this country where the most heavenly-tasting kebabs and pizzas are in abundance, all I really want is mom’s cooking.
I don’t think I’d have the time to blog in the next 2 weeks, just a head’s up 
I know, I feel terrible but these essays won’t write/reference themselves. I need to catch up on all my comments too argh, I fail at this blogging thing. The silver lining? I HAVE ANOTHER GIVEAWAY COMING UP 8D That should keep you on your toes for a bit huh? Take care, everyone!
Also plugging my best friend’s portfolio:OPTIKPOP//hosted by tea noir It’s looking supremely fierce! So proud of you darling, it’s an amazing accomplishment! ♥ ♥
A recipe post, as promised! I know, I know – I can hear your “pasta, A-GAIN??” groans from my bedroom. Listen up mmkay, pasta is a staple in any student’s pantry because they’re cheap, they don’t go bad, add in some olive oil and they make a far better couple than Blair Waldorf and Dan Humphrey are being made out to be.
I really ought to stop watching that show since it’s evident from the degrading quality of the past seasons that the writers have been at each other’s throats, trying to think of more ridiculous situations that would never happen to even the most filthy rich of New Yorkers. BUT IT’S SUCH A GUILTY PLEASURE GUYS D8 I like watching each episode, scoffing at the unrealistic tribulations that plague Ms Waldorf (obvsly the only character worth watching) and asking my friends, “Did you see that episode? What were they thinking?!”
If I could distill the entire Gossip Girl narrative into a pie chart:
It’s a little sad to laugh at your own jokes but HAHAHA SO TRUE NE!
Thankfully, I have other shows to distract me from the fall of Gossip Girl:
Not so serious: The Big Bang Theory (love Sheldon!!), Community (Jeff is SO hot!), Doctor Who
Serious-serious: FRINGE, Burn Notice, The Mentalist
I was so upset when Ugly Betty and Pushing Daisies got cancelled some time ago, they were such good shows! A lot of my friends enjoy watching Grey’s Anatomy and I’ve tried getting into it but I have this unfortunate thing against medical dramas. My mother works in the medical industry so I find hospitals utterly repulsive. This doesn’t apply to my brother though, he’s been watching Grey’s since he was 14? IKR, SO INAPPROPRIATE LOL. I asked him how he got introduced to it when I first caught him watching the show and he said, “Dad downloaded it for me.” I don’t even know where to begin.
Anyway, back to the main point of this post:
My friend, Amy, takes up kickboxing and the people she meets at her gym have rather colourful personalities that’s all I’m gonna say ;p She’s close to this girl, Ching, who has been a secondary savior in my life. I say secondary because we don’t know each other personally but this girl has changed my life forever! She taught Amy how to cook this pasta dish, which is both easy and tastes absolutely divine, delicious, amazing etc. It doesn’t really have a name so I’m calling it Ching’s Pasta and you gotta admit, it has a nice ring to it.
Ching’s Pasta
Ingredients – No real measurements, sorry!
Pasta of your choice (I used linguine!)
A few tbs of olive oil
Garlic (I used a LOT)
Italian Herb Mix – you can get this at any supermarket
About 1/2 cup Chicken Stock (or vegetable, if you’re vegan/vegetarian)
Mushrooms, as many as you prefer
Basil*
Freshly grated Parmesan*
Chili flakes
*I didn’t have basil on hand so I used coriander/cilantro leaves instead. I happen to be a huge coriander fan so all the better!
*Also, Parmesan cheese wasn’t included in the original recipe but you can’t make pasta without the cheese, that’s my philosophy. Can I insist that you buy REAL Parmesan cheese (like the actual wedge!) and not the pre-grated ones? It does make a difference, trust me.
1. Cook the pasta in a pot of salted boiling water until al dente.
2. Slice the garlic evenly, DON’T dice as you normally would (Ching’s special instructions k take note!)
3. Heat the pan with the olive oil and add in the sliced garlic
4. Once the garlic’s been cooked, add in about 3 heaped tablespoons of the Italian Herb mix (again, depending on the intensity of your herb mix – adjust accordingly)
5. Add the chicken stock and the mushrooms, stir!
6. Dump in the cooked pasta and add the chili flakes, coriander and possibly 2/3 cup of grated Parmesan.
So fricking good. Thank you for the recipe, Amy and Ching! It is now immortalized on tea noir and ready to be passed down to my children.
A shout-out to Amy who has been inflicted by self-confidence issues as of late: Girl, stop over thinking things – you are a beautiful person and I refuse to let you believe otherwise COS BABY YOU WERE BORN THIS WAY AND GOD MAKES NO MISTAKES (What, you trying to defy HIM now?)
School is killing me, guys. I have so many essays and a presentation due in the next two weeks, someone please volunteer yourself and write them for me ;__; BUT! I’m so excited for school tomorrow. They’re screening Star Wars (The Empire Strikes Back, I think?) for my Hollywood lecture and we’re sorta having an impromptu snack party in the lecture theatre as well. I don’t think food is allowed in there but whatever, you can’t watch Star Wars without popcorn and crisps! Hope everyone’s had a brilliant week so far! <3
AND BEFORE I FORGET: Check out Cat's BLOGSALE FOR JAPAN! She has some really great cosmetics up for sale and it’s for a good cause!
My mother had to undergo surgery last week (it’s nothing serious) and while I wholeheartedly embody the Daddy’s Girl stereotype, I love my mother fiercely although I would never admit it. But you know, the frequent tension between mother and daughter kinda does get old once you’re past your twenties. You realise, perhaps a little too abruptly in my case, that your mother has been right all along and you were the rebellious fool.
It’s unsettling but (most) mothers really know what’s best for you. You question their logic but it’s useless since what you’re really doing is questioning a mirror. I have battled against ‘becoming’ my mother since I was a child and I find the more I rebelled against my own DNA, the more I was actually resembling her. I find it disconcerting sometimes, how my mother and I are so alike but we are still different people.
My dad sent me a photo of her resting in her hospital room and I was suddenly struck by how mortal she looked, the greying hair and hard-set features that have softened over the years. I don’t want to risk sounding like a sap, but I do think we take it for granted that our parents will be where we’ve left them the day before. We unconsciously think of them as demi-gods, if you like, not completely immortal but they’ll always be there at the very least, ready to step in whenever we need help (or cash, yep I said it LOL).
My mother’s perfectly fine now but she’s going to be stuck at home for a month before she’s allowed to resume working so she’s been texting me often about the cat and other random things. I’ve been calling her everyday too, something that I have never done before. It feels strange, building on a relationship with a person I’ve known all my life but it’s a warm, lovely feeling.
Sorry I’ve been writing all these ~wai so serious~ entries, I’ve just been thinking a lot the past couple of weeks. I figured I should just write it down somewhere and thought maybe some of you might appreciate reading something other than the pretty things I usually write about
NEW RECIPE POST COMING UP NEXT! x
Today I received a wedding invitation from a Malay friend who’s been living in Melbourne since she was a kid. And she only has 300 guests on her list! In a culture so fond of inviting just about everyone to a wedding (1000+ guests is normal), 300 guests is pretty small for a Malay wedding. And I’m envious. I know the minute I tell my parents my plans to get engaged, my mother will be combing her coffee-stained address book to account for all living acquaintances to invite even before they’ve met my boyfriend’s parents.
It’s not that I dislike Malay weddings, I love them. I like how the whole family gets together, peeling hard-boiled eggs with cousins while complaining about the stupid weather, watching the bride get ready, sneaking away for bubble tea – it’s real fun lol. But the guest list oh my god, I cannot. And I betcha the bride and groom don’t even know half the people on the list. I understand that most of the people on the guest list are usually old friends and family of the bride/groom’s parents and the wedding is perhaps, a symbol of strengthened bonds/family ties. That sounds good on paper really, the whole high school reunion at my daughter’s wedding..just not on the bill.
My cousin’s getting married next year and already, she has spent $20,000 on the food, location, decor etc. I don’t know the average money spent to hold a Malay wedding but $20,000 JUST TO GET HITCHED?! That better be one extravagant wedding or I’d be disappointed. Honestly, half that money could be spent on an apartment (but since I’m still single, perhaps a camel Birkin ;p) or you know, a trust fund for the future kid(s).
I long for a small wedding, just with my family and the people I share half my heart with. My husband can fight for the other half. It’d be more personal, less overwhelming to the senses and everyone would refuse to leave because they’re having too much fun. Customized table settings, napkins monogrammed with my guests’ names and a gift bag that doesn’t contain the following: 1) A small slice of fruitcake that tastes like it’s a couple of centuries old 2) Face towels in a colour that matches the wedding deco (srsly, guys..) 3) A fish-shaped glass dish (My parents have received 4 of these so far SMH!) My friends will be my photographers and I won’t be surprised if I end up doing my own make-up. I certainly have the right tools (and I’m quite possibly anal enough 8D)
But it’s never going to happen. I know all too well that my wedding isn’t going to be my wedding. It will be my mother’s. She will decide on the floral arrangements, the location, the food (scoffing at my suggestions of sushi platters and fajitas) and which old neighbour to invite (ALL OF THEM!) So for now, I am extremely grateful that when I dream of having $20,000 at my disposal, I think of how much I would donate to Japan, the countries I want to travel to, the presents I’d buy for my beautiful friends and my wishlist on Net-a-Porter.
