Raving about one of my favourite things
Warning: Girly, bimbo post ahead.
One of my favourite things to do in the world, is to wander aimlessly around in a shopping mall to window shop and people watch. OK, sometimes I buy stuff too.
If it’s a new shopping complex, even better! Because there is something oh-so-special about brand new shops, with their bright lights, immaculate changing rooms and the heady scent of fresh paint mixed with the smell of new clothes and the crisp scent of newly installed air-conditioning.
I checked out Bangsar Village II on its opening day (Jan 25) and Wow! I like the place!
Even the posters are cool! The design reminds me of make-up brand, Stila which has fantastic packaging!
Clothes shops it carries (some not open yet) include, Warehouse, Zara Woman, Island Shop, Principles, Raoul, Padini, Liz Clairbone, G2000, Guess…
Eateries include, Sakae Sushi (Yay! More reason to live in PJ! Haha), Café Marmalade (which I think and hope it’s a branch of the one in Mt. Kiara), the usual Starbucks and Coffee Bean, Bakerzin, Haagen-Daaz, Delicious…yum…
Saving the best for the last, shoe shops! They have Vincci, Birkenstock, Aldo Accessories, and Novo to name a few! Novo is this fantastic range of shoes I first saw and fell in love with in Singapore. Great that they have it here in KL too now! Yay! *rubs hands in anticipation*
Disembodied legs. Kinda scary but definitely eye-catching!
Wished they had Borders though instead of MPH. There’s already two MPHs in Bangsar alone and only two Borders in the WHOLE of Malaysia. Bangsar is in desperate need of one! Really. Heehee.
What kind of mood are you in today?
Great sign! Spotted in MetroJaya @ Paragon Mall, Singapore
Shopping...I need. Hands. Itchy.
The truth about The Truth
The truth is out there, goes the famous X-Files quote. I used to be a huge fan. The big question today is, do you really want to know the truth?
Many people claim that they are in search of The Truth.
Unless you’re masochistic, to tell the truth, when you are told the truth, it always hurts like hell, and is NOT fun.
I’m one of those ‘vapid’ people who prefer walking around in a happy state of denial and believe in making people happy. I believe that what you don’t know and others don’t need to know, can’t hurt you or them.
In a nutshell, my principle is: If you have nothing good to say, just shut your gabbing orifice.
That being said, this isn’t a principle that is applicable in every situation. In many important matters, (love, friendship, war…work) it is vital that you need to know when to speak up and tell the truth or at least, your warped version of the ‘truth.’
But where mundane stuff are concerned, like if you think a person looks older than their years or has put on weight or has just dyed their locks a tacky shade of vermillion, I firmly believe my principal applies.
What sadistic pleasure do you derive from hurting others? Is it because you don’t realize it or because you want to hurt others in ways you’ve been hurt before?
The way I see it, we’re all humans. We’re all in the same boat. We all have fragile, vulnerable egos.
Life’s already too tough to have to deal with pointless, hurtful comments on trivial stuff. Even if you believe it's The Truth.
Be tactful in your words to people. Make it your kind deed of the day. Cliched as it may sound, a little kindness goes a long way.
Everyone needs a punching bag
I know I could do with one right now! So I can get the angst of late out of my system once and for all. So I can eat and sleep and live my life in peace.
*PUNCH* *KAPOW* *RIGHT-HAND HOOK* I feel like beating into a pulp some people I know who simply and thoroughly deserve it. I thought I was past my angsty, dissatisfied, teenage years. But evidently, there’s this angsty teen in all of us, only as an adult, you know better than to let it show too much.
Some might call this anger and the need to prove everyone wrong and yourself right as "determination” or “drive” but call it what you like, cause I’m calling it “The angsty teen in me.”
So in an attempt to remain civilized, all these feelings get bottled inside. And I imagine the huge lump I often get in my throat when I’m stressed as a plug that stops it from spilling out. These emotions boil up dangerously close to the surface sometimes, and the urge to scream: “IDIOTS! MORONS! I QUIT! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE! YOU CAN DO YOUR OWN #$%@& DIRTY, STINKY WORK!” is just on the tip of my tongue.
And after that, I always picture myself stalking out of the room to the swelling, opening music of Shanghai Bund. But what the heck, who am I kidding. I won’t do it. Not because I lack the guts. But because of personal principles and I don’t wanna be labeled a quitter. (See, told you it wasn’t drive!)
So what do us sad, sad adults do? Simple.
Just yesterday, I was having this violent toungue lashing session with a certain obnoxious someone in my previous life as a lowly fresh-graduate. That person was cowering under a table as I lashed out eloquently with my wonderfully laser sharp words. That just hit -- leaving gaping wounds of raw, bloody flesh -- at where it hurt the most. Only thing is, it was all in my head and I was in my car creeping slowly along, stuck in the usual rush-hour jam on Federal Highway. Blissful nevertheless, if only for the duration of the car ride. Then I just started feeling a bit stupid.
Sometimes I try denial therapies like ‘Sleep for 12 hours’, ‘Watch 6 back-to-back episode of Grey’s Anatomy’ or ‘Chain-eat Hershey’s kisses’ and these work too, for a while. And then something just will happen to awaken the suppressed beast of rage again, if possible, more overwhelmingly ferocious than before.
Yesterday night, I tried a new therapy: punching a real-life human punching bag. That felt good though my knuckles (and my punching bag) hurt after that. Thank you my dear, LAD!
And perhaps writing this now is therapy in itself. Thoughts without words are intangible and hard to understand. But if the thoughts can be described, perhaps they will start making some sense soon.
Because if all else fails, I might just have to resort to the Neanderthal practice of beating the crap out of anyone who ignites my wrath.
They ain't crazy, they're my parents
I've never thought of my parents as being your average, conventional parents-next-door.
They’ve never been people who thrived on doing things following the norm. Hence, more often than the average child, I find myself frustrated and failing to understand their reasoning for doing many things or seeing eye to eye on many matters including curfews, studies, relationships, work, which most of the time, dosen't stop them or me, albeit reluctantly, from doing what they want.
The most recent example happened this Christmas.
When you picture a typical Christmas, you’d think- Christmas tree, presents, log cakes, fairy lights and decorations, the spirit of hope, joy and peace for all of mankind.
Clockwise from top left- 1. Yummy chocolate log cake at Coffee Bean in MV 2. Pretty poinsettias at Cameron Highlands 3. Christmas Deco outside Robinson's on Orchard Road, Singapore 4. Christmas carolers at Times Square, KL
Huge christmas tree outside Paragon Mall on Orchard Road
This Christmas, my parents in the spirit of true blue Christmas unconventionalism, announced that we would be moving out of our house of 23 years into a new one! Lorry load of stuff at my old house on Christmas morning, the official moving day
Precious holidays aside, I guess I should mention here that first of all, I hate packing things. And that second of all, I’m allergic to dust: I start sneezing uncontrollably and my eyes get all puffy and teary. No kidding.
In trepidation that the combination of factors, namely, previously stated reason No 1 + previously stated reason No 2 + stressed out parents + stressful period at work would equate super stressed out me with the sniffles, it was unsurprising I wasn’t exactly enthusiastically, jumping for joy to come home this Christmas.
Nonetheless, as I’m writing this in the wee hours of Boxing Day on my laptop, flopped on my bed with it’s pretty violet sheets and embroidered bedspread (that my mum specially picked for me) in my new room that still smells of spanking newness, a revelation of sorts kinda dawns on me.
My new room
L-R 1. I love my bedspread! 2. The walls of my room's bathroom are a pale muave
I’d not have spent this Christmas doing anything else other than the packing, mopping, wiping, sweeping, scrubbing, lifting that I’ve been doing since I got home to Ipoh on the 22nd.
Clockwise from top left: 1. Compound beside house with plants we planted ourselves in the flower beds 2. Dining room with furniture still under protective wraps 3. Old-school charcoal stove boiling water at the new house, a Chinese tradition for peace (I think) when moving house 4. Tang yuen in sweet ginger soup at my old house for Dong Zhi (Winter Solstice) on 22nd of Dec 5. Super sweet red bean soup at my new house, another Chinese tradition to cook something sweet so everyone will exclaim "It's so sweet!" for good wishes 6. The hall with furniture still under protective wraps
Perhaps it’s the feeling of togetherness working together as a family brings. Perhaps it’s realizing that no matter what crises may occur, we’re in it together- through ups and downs, we’ll pull through as a family. Despite arguments, short-tempered bursts of angry words, blood runs thicker than water.
Perhaps because I had already prepped myself for the worst case scenario, things at home weren’t as bad as I had expected.
Or perhaps, I realized that in their own way, my parents do really love me and want what’s they think is best for me.
And it dosen't matter if I don't understand WHY they want me to do it, because maybe, just maybe, the happy look on the faces of the people that you love is enough.
Hope everyone had as good a Christmas as mine was unique and here’s wishing everyone a Happy New Year!