Warm, Fuzzy Feelings

A couple weeks ago I bought a new 2016-2017 planner and I told le petit ami excitedly that I wish it was 2016 so I could use it immediately.

My #2016 #planner! In a bout of excitement I had it decorated with these adorable felt stickers!! 😍🐸🐵 MooMoo is modeling it 🐮☺️ I'm not even that well-organized but hey, the illusion of productivity is irresistible. 😆

A photo posted by Anne Law (@hashichopsticks) on Dec 9, 2015 at 11:46pm PST

As it is, the last month of the year is already here, and honestly I'm quite alarmed at the lack of remaining pages in my current planner.

2015 has been relatively kind to me. I've been able to mark many things off my To Do lists, and it gave me the chance to truly enjoy the small things. This later half of the year brought family and friends closer, and for that I cannot be more grateful.

It's not like the year was completely smooth sailing, however. There were terrible bumps in the road, worries that gnawed on my mind like a slow-creeping disease until I stayed paralyzed in bed. But I recovered, and grew a little stronger each time. I didn't finish everything I said I wanted to; I didn't read a book every week, or do my best in classes, or blog as much as I had wanted. I didn't get to present my best as much as I wanted; too many times I could barely bother that I've worn the same shirt for a week.

Yet I managed to complete a lot of other things I said I would do, and some that I didn't. I explored new recipes and ingredients, with highly positive results. I got a part-time job, and enjoyed it immensely. I learned to properly balance my time and assignments (though I can work more on it), and procrastinated a lot less than I thought I would. I explored new places and projects and performances. I learned to live alone, then I learned to share my life.

Most importantly, I've been happy. And I think that being happy is all that matters. So I look forward to 2016, and to another year of happiness!

The Many Thoughts about Food

So before I came, and even after, many of my musings and wonder consisted of food.

Now, even more so.

I still can't get over American portions. Take a look.

This pizza is 10", about a medium size in Malaysian standards I think. It cost a little over $5, and fed me for three meals. #sogood I love this place, they have the best pizzas and it always has it's own personal touch. xD Also, chilli flakes. #YES

When do you ever need a big onion bigger than my hand? This wasn't even the biggest one in the pile. It's the one I decided to buy. I've currently used half to cook twice, and that half was enough for 5 meals. I've wrapped it in air-tight plastic, and I scorn at the onions in the shared fridge that are exposed completely... for weeks. Someone's going to have a fun time in the toilet.

There's also an issue of not being able to get milk under a galleon (a little under 2 liters). The only half-galleon milk I could find was lactose-free, for the lactose intolerant. I understand now why Leonard can eat cereal despite his lactose intolerance.

Everything here is in suitably sharing-sizes... so do come soon, please?

I found this cute thing for under $2 but my roommate chided me and said no. :( She's just mean. How can you not want to eat How to Train Your Dragon 2-shaped mac n' cheese??? But she made me put it back. Don't worry I shall buy you next time!

This was found in the nearby 7-11... They basically sell beef jerkies in boxes and you can pick and choose your own. Kind of like how we sell our preserved fruit! Now that I'm seeing it, however, I'm starting to get a little bit hungry...

Egg, cheese and bacon... YUM! Breakfast in a bagel but it's so, so good! I've only ever tried the bagels in SS15 once, but blegh. THESE bagels are the reason why I can have them for breakfast everyday! And the best thing is, it's not even too much!

Today's lunch (and possibly dinner) is pasta with leftover roasted chicken from the noodle place last night. See? Another meal. Add some mushrooms (which I had to use up anyway) and yellow onion, season with a bit of soy sauce and black pepper, and there we go, yummy awesome food! I honestly love how much my culinary skills have improved after browsing many, many, many, many recipes... There's a pattern to cooking, and once you understand that pattern it's not hard to cook at all. Yes! Looking forward to cooking more and experimenting with stews, my next trial.

These pretzel m&m's actually don't taste all that different from the blue wafer ones we get in M'sia, cept a tad bit softer and saltier. It's not really my thing, it's quite heavy on the tastebuds... Then again so much of American food is!

I had fun with my roommate & friends doing exceptionally girly things. I've never really the experience of doing so 'just for fun' like how you see in American teen movies. The only sleepover experience I've had included movie marathons, cup noodles, and canned mocha. Nail polish and makeup? New territory. Also they may be right, I may be a bit of nail polish fanatic. (I insist I am not, still do.)

A major update! This baby is going to make my life so much easier. Her name is Buttermilk, and she is gorgeous. No more lazy grocery trips, no more 40 minute 10-block walks!

A shot of Saints Peter and Paul Church in Washington Square Park, San Franciso to end. It's beautiful and lying in the grass really is such an American thing to do, but I definitely see the appeal in it. It'd be great for bare-foot sports, general running around and mischievousness.

I think I'm doing alright!

Stay In My Room... Forever.

Back in Malaysia I wouldn't have understood why people choose to stay in their rooms all the time- things I read on Tumblr, I couldn't relate to. For me, I needed to be with people, with friends.

I now know why. I can relate; I am very much hoping to stay in my room forever- at least I feel that way right now. I don't know where to go; I don't know who to call; I don't know what to say, what to think, what to...

Perhaps I'm still trying to recover from walking San Francisco for the whole day... I'm unsure. But right now I am simply wishing to be alone; or at least with comfortable company...

Being on edge is taking a toll on me; I dread people, I dread interaction- this may be the introverted side of me coming out in full form in this highly extroverted culture; but I simply don't want to do anything.

I'm hoping next week changes some things. Perhaps I can meet some new people, join some clubs, see new stuff, expose myself a little more.

I'm not very hopeful right now, but I'm not completely frustrated.

I just wish you were here.

Morning Sun

I am unsure whether or not this is due to jet lag, but regardless it is very strange that I wake up at 7 everyday now. Sleep at 9 (I managed to stay up to 9 without a nap yesterday) and wake up at 7 calls for a 10-hour-sleep... At least I'm sure people will tell me it's a healthy change and what not.

Mornings here are so very beautiful- actually, mornings back home are too. That golden hour at 10 when the sun is warm and shines with a golden tint... I sort of miss mornings back home. Then again if I were home I wouldn't see much of it.

My room with a view.

I used to (try) to sleep before midnight (and failing, usually) and wake up to my 9 o'clock alarm... then snooze it to wake up at 10. Haha! It sure is a great change for me to have sleeping patterns like this... I don't think I've ever slept so early, except possibly primary school.

I'm not complaining! We all know the benefits of sleeping early, so hello good skin and healthy bowel movements! Also, I get to use the bathroom while everyone else is still sleeping! I just hope I can keep this up even when I have classes.

Glad to report that I have been super responsible for myself this week... Tidying up, making my bed, cooking and cleaning, vacuuming... I think I can handle this staying by myself thing... Yeah. I'll make it through! :)

Pepperoni pretzels, mmmhph, so so good!

How does the same thing taste so much better here??

DARK CHOCOLATE CHEERIOS NOT EVEN KIDDING

Home made mushroom omelette tortillas! + bacon bits! :D

Be Yourself, Be An Inspiration

There used to be a flat area of grass next to the tennis courts at the park nearby. When I was younger I'd run off to the park every evening until dinner.

There also used to be a couple who brought their dog there every evening for training. When I knew they did so, I started to bring mine too. Only just did I remember that perhaps I had fallen in love with her then.

They were old (adult!) when I knew them, but perhaps now they not that old to me anymore. The lady wore her hair short, wore her clothes tight, and wore her sneakers often. She spoke kindly to me, and gave Snowy doggy treats. (She was the reason I learned that dogs can be given doggy treats every once in a while- although later I tended to spoil my dogs.) The man was quieter, showed up less often, but had the same enthusiastic energy she had. They were dog trainers, I remember her explaining to me. To me it was a vague concept, a hobby. I imagined her having some office work. I imagined him poring over blueprints. I don't imagine such things for anyone anymore, for it is unfair and I have learned better.

Groovy the dog was (if I am not mistaken) a Jack Russell terrier. I am not biased when it comes to breeds, I pick all my dogs from SPCA. Jack Russell terriers, however, has always been the one breed that I absolutely adore. (At least now I know why.) He was very well-trained, playing Fetch, doing tricks, performing for us. He also had a bit of an attitude, a bite to match his bark, and I have never been able to give him a full tummy rub. (My dogs, on the other hand, expose their furry tummies to anyone who bothers to pet them.)

In the beginning I thought the lady and the man were married. I brought it up, abruptly, in conversation, the way only a 9 year old can without sounding rude. She laughed and said no. They weren't married, but they were living together. I was delightfully scandalised to learn such a thing, for my mother would never approve of such thing, and it was such a greatly different way of life than what I knew then. However I prodded no further and also never mentioned it to my parents, lest they decide that they were bad influence and not allow me to see them or Groovy the dog. (Groovy the dog is always Groovy the dog, Groovy the dog can only be called 'Groovy' by the lady.)

 It may seem rude that I do not know (or remember) their names, and I do agree that it's not ideal. Yet despite seeing them everyday and playing with their dog, until the time came for me to stay at home even during the evenings, it never quite dawned on me that I should know their names.

A few years after seeing them one last time, I saw Groovy the dog again on a newspaper article about a dog show. They won first place. I suppose it clicked in my head that they were really not the sort of adults I had been taught to believe. I did attempt to search for them online, but nothing came up. Again I promptly forgot them.

Yesterday I thought I saw a woman walking a dog that reminded me of Groovy the dog. I was in my car, at the traffic light on Jalan Ara, and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the adult who had changed my life more than they (nor I) could ever imagine.

Thanks to her, I found out that not everyone lives their life like how I have been taught to live mine. Thanks to her, I found out that not everyone treats their dog as, simply, a dog. Thanks to her I learned that you can be friends with a 9-year-old.

I don't remember her name, and she very likely doesn't remember me at all. But she inspired me to break out of the conventional mould simply by being herself. You never know who you can inspire, and you never know when.

Cheers to childhood memories!

Sparks

I love how you're my motivation

and when you smile I hit the ground

and when you kiss me gently I melt

and I end up thinking of all the things I never thought I would.

.

I love how I try my best

and I won't even get tired

because at the end I know

it's worth it; you're worth it.

.

I love how we hold hands

hold pinkies hold hearts

and the silence is nothing

but warm and comfortable

.

I didn't fight so hard

fight my self my mind my life

if I didn't hope for this

and it's so much better.

.

I think I want to keep you.

Growing Up

So, tomorrow night is prom night. I'll be going with le petit ami, in something I would never have worn and shoes I used to deem stupid.

I'm not sure if I'm growing up or just growing insensitive.

Long ago I made the decision to stop dressing like a high school kid. Unfortunately I still do sometimes, but I've been putting in effort to at least look decently dressed. (Then again that relies on your definition of freedom, hehe.) I've tried to "spruce up your look!" with accessories, which according to all the magazine and fashion tips online is destined to work.

Well I sorta agree with them on that.

I've been wondering when would be the proper time to ever wear heels to uni, or if I ever would. I mean in terms of casual wear, when I literally just feel like it. I've been wondering if I ever would.

Image is undeniably important. Such an unconscious thing and we do it all the time.

I'm not hoping to suddenly change my image overnight... but somehow I think it's getting there.

Growing up. It means losing everything.

Spirals, Spirals, Never Ending Spirals

I'm starting to think that all my intense spirals of self-loathing must certainly be already common now. Every time I think I'm over this shit I fall back into the same spiral. Again.

Possibly I should explain my spirals. My spirals are always self-depreciating and hateful, though there may be a difference in reason why I fell (or was I pushed?) and the context. It doesn't matter what causes the spirals, all I know is there will be another spiral after this one.

Like a black hole that leads to another that leads to another black hole.

Constantly being told that I'm fat not by media- but by close friends and family members. Great, so now to add to my already shaky self-confidence I have to worry about being unflattering in my old clothes, new clothes, or even in a towel. I have to worry about characters I can or cannot cosplay. Because I'm fat. And that's the worst thing a girl can be. Fat.

I hate how I used to be slim and pretty. I had trouble finding clothes that fit me because they'll be too big. I never had to worry about my waistline because it was perfect. I never needed to watch what I eat because I didn't have to care. Now I eye those skinny bitches on campus with a mixture of jealousy and judgement, because of course it's not wrong to be fat, it's just society putting pressure on us.

Bullshit. Society is made up of the people with such values that has influential control over instruments of power. Like media.

I can be pro-diversity all I like, but the fact doesn't change that I want to be slimmer. I want to be able to put my hands on my waist and not be disgusted that I can feel belly fat. I want to be able to wear jeans without it being a war to pull the tough fabric over my blossoming thighs. I want to be able to wear a tank top and not worry about my arms being flabby and my tummy fat showing. I want to feel completely in love with my own body- and it's even worse that I've felt that love long before- when I was thinner.

Fuck. Fuck this shit.

Similarities

Yay double post. But I figured since the previous post was short and silly, double posting is acceptable in this case.

Recently I've been lurking around blogs. Not my own (through yes I read through them occasionally and laugh at them) but other people's. And honestly speaking there in nothing in my blog that differentiates me from all those other blogs out there. Reading through a certain someone's posts I can honestly say, to another person these two blogs would look the same, read the same, and be of the same unimportance. It leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth to say that I agree.

Many things I read, I understood. The feelings and the meanings behind the veiled words. I know because I've written the same damn things before.

This breezy vapid life
Has life ever been this hard?

In a way I am jealous because I see what I could have been in a different time, place, dimension. I see the songs I like now- and I see them appearing in the journal of another, long before my time.

I'm jealous because the experiences of another is something I can't experience... The words written are just words that are meaningless and generic but to the writer it holds a thought that hides inside. Who am I to barge in on memories of life before I knew the existence of you? Who am I to walk the younger years with you in the state of virtual suspension of time? Who am I to think anything I do now can affect you, or vice versa?

My mouth lies and denies vehemently that I'm okay and I'm fine; my mind tells me to shut up and get a hold of myself; my heart skips a beat with every paragraph I read and what I fear to see catches my eye. Yet I cannot stop, not even with unstable Internet connection, not even with assignments to do.

I don't know you at all and yet I feel a connection with you, a fellow blogger. It's possible that you may know of me- of me, that's the key word- but it's unlikely that you care enough to see this. For I am wrong and paranoid, and you're... not.

But I still don't like you, for selfish reasons.

Stories and Walls

This morning I managed to grab some time with le petit ami's aunt, who is a journalist, and very graciously allowed me to join her and her friends for lunch. Such a kind, wonderful lady! Now I feel incredibly inefficient since everything was planned last minute as she had to leave in the afternoon. :\

There is nothing more interesting than hearing stories of other people, especially people with a deep pool of experiences. Stories that lead to stories that lead to more stories. Life is just stories that overlap to create a multi-dimensional experience and then history comes in and makes it one-dimensional again. Sort of like how people tend to undervalue the beauty of simplicity and add more colors and glitters and sparkly things to things that don't need them, like vampires. That was such a bad comparison. I don't know what my mind is doing right now.

One day I will be that. To have a whole deposit of grand adventures and great stories to tell, to live my life the way I want to live it.

Here, have a silly picture of me telling myself that 

I dare to live my life the way I want to. 

Original picture at Roxy's gallery, please like and share if 

you think my vague attempt at being witty did not end up generic.

As it is, I can only dream of living the good life right now, and continue to struggle with the baggage I have on my end. I need to find a metaphorical sea to dump my metaphorical baggage into, and wish it away to the end of cyberspace as metaphorical bits and bytes.

It is funny though, how when people ask for opinions of decisions we are quick to give solutions, in which everything can be done ideally. Yet when we face our own walls we think it unclimbable, we think it impossible, we sit against it in our minds and cry because of the utter weakness we can only see.

I either need a good large dose of Calvin and Hobbes right now, or some ninja skills. Perhaps I need a bit of both.

Trees or Forests

I've been thinking so much about relationships I've hit a dead end because I've gone so deep into the forest I can't see the trees.

Sometimes I just want to rage quit everything. I know ultimately it is my life and I should live it the way I want to. That I want to love and be loved and enjoy my youth and count stars and stare into the sun, just for kicks. That I want to sip on warm cups of coffee and cuddle of soft couches and a book in hand and the smell of lasagne cooking in the oven.

But even to my childish self I know it's not possible. Then I start to ask myself why. Why is it that I am so bitter without having yet reached the age of 20? Why is it that I doubt myself before I even start? Why is it that I can only cry thinking about the future, and not plaster on a stupid grin on my face like people my age should?

Can't I have dreams too? Why must you poison them? I dream of a life not unlike the one you've dreamed before. And I feel sorrow for you. But don't poison my dreams. Not yet.

Maybe in ten years I will be as bitter as you will be. But I won't let that happen to me. Because I have you to learn from, and that's the important part.

Leave me to live my own life.

My Laptop is Bigger on the Inside

I've got my earphones in and no music playing. Previously I was listening to Scouting for Girls but I paused it because I cannot focus on anything else.

Bean is hiding behind my internet browser windows, the document unsaved and untitled. I'm half way through it, I've lost track of what to write. Skype is in the foreground, one name staring blankly back at me. Later when the little sign turns green I will hover my mouse over it and be even more distracted than ever.

Pulp Fiction is frozen in the second desktop. Someone has just killed someone and it's a blurry stagnation of plot twists and actors pretending to act pretending to play a part. Sometimes movies are messed up, sometimes I think that this is life.

I'm supposed to be doing homework. There is a window on a wikipedia article about pre-Socrates philosophers. On Thursday I will choose one of them, dress up in a toga, and put on an exaggerated accent for the amusement of the class. I suppose I'll enjoy it.

Stress has been getting to me. Not even le petit ami can help me with this. Sometimes I don't know why I stress out so much; other times I want to drop everything and walk out on life.

But we only have one try and that's like quitting in the middle of a game and then you never get to know the ending.

Like KH:3D, which I haven't even finished.

Morph

I like to think that I am a strong, independent young girl with big dreams, because I've been conditioned to think I am. Maybe sometimes I'm not. Maybe sometimes I don't want to be.

It's quite surprising to everyone else how cynical my outlook on life is. Judging by what they know of me, I'm not surprised that they're surprised. But that's the thing: why let others know? Is it necessary for them to know every opinion? Sometimes people don't want to know, mostly people just don't care. And if they want to know, they ask. Then again usually it's the ones that ask that we can't be truthful to.

All my life I've been told to "be my own person" and "never let anyone tell you who to be". But what the fuck does that mean. What does it mean to someone who isn't sure of who they are- and honestly, how many of us is who we want to be rather than who other people want us to be? If you say you are, how are you so sure it's not society that's making you think you know who you want to be?

How about me?

What if who I want to be is exactly who I am now? That there are no more thoughts of what ifs and why nots.

What if my personality- this me, is really just a shapeless human- and I change for each person? To some I may be a friend to go to for advice, to others I may be the friend to go to for jokes, yet again to some I may be the quiet friend who doesn't say much.

I like being this unfixed person. No one is to say that I should do this or that because on what grounds can they make that judgement? I like that like Morph, I can take on many roles. I like to fill in the holes in people's lives. For many, I am that inconsequential, but fun to have around friend. I suppose I like being that way. Close enough to feel like I can make their lives a little happier, not close enough to care too much.

This is Morph, from Treasure Planet, if you don't know. I chose the saddest-looking picture from Google images because this is how I fucking feel right now.

I don't like it when I get too close to someone. Attachment, to me, is like a drug. And as much as I hate to admit it, when I get attached to someone... I get attached to someone. It's not healthy. It's not nice. I hate myself for it. That's why I sincerely dislike having people in my personal space because sooner or later they will leave and there will be a hole in my bubble which should not be there.

It's at times like these that I wonder what happens after I'm dead. I don't mean to myself- I know what I'll do, I'll just die, simple as that- but to the other people that used to know me. How would they know of my passing? Would they rejoice? Would they be sad? Would they care?

If I died I probably wouldn't care much about myself. Hah. Then again I wouldn't know.

All I want is just validation, I guess. Just something to know that I'm doing things right. Because all I want to do is just make other people satisfied... and to not treat me like a problem. So I'll gladly be what they want me to be, because that's just who I am.

Morph.

When Socially Stressed, Punch Someone In the Face

Alternately, if for some reason you are unable to do so, you can choose to relieve your stress by doing other activities, whether legal or not. (However beware the legal consequences. Then again, knowing YOLO, I doubt legal consequences would be a priority.)

It comes pretty often when I am embarrassed- in fact I embarrass easily, something I inherited from my mother, vain as we are. This time I have proper reason to feel rightfully embarrassed. I don't particularly like being associated with certain people, due to that. Neither do I particularly like being associated with, say, my childhood.

I have done a lot of embarrassing stuff. People who know can wield such information and I will sooner or later bow to their threats. That in itself is embarrassing enough.

However the point is that punching someone in the face is the best remedy to cure your embarrassment. Preferably if said someone is the cause for embarrassment, then it just makes the punch sweeter. But then is it morally right to do that? Punch someone out of embarrassment? Wait, let's not talk moral. I have 99 problems, but moral values ain't one of them! (No, I lie. I don't have 99 problems.)

If punching people is a cause for concern, there is no need to worry. I've punched many people, mostly out of embarrassment, sometimes not. On special occasions I feel that a kick is more deserving.

Sigh. I still have not yet fully recovered from my prolonged state of sleeplessness. This cough is not helping either. Just one more day. Finals on Saturday!! I must get good marks for IPC, otherwise I will surely be chewed out for not studying enough. Apparently being born to 4.0 CGPA parents (LIES. I NEVER KNEW. THEY NEVER SAID.) getting a 2.8 is embarrassing to us all.

Stop being so lazy. has been on my New Year's Resolution List for a good 5 years now. Does it work? Nope. Maybe for the first two weeks of each beginning semester, but no, not really.

At this point I will stop here to slam my head into the wall and watch the blood dry.

Acts

Ah. Double post, within two hours? When I blog I guess it's usually something that's really eating me.

Then I have make many posts about it because I'm vague and uncertain like a prophesier.

It troubling for me to go through this load of emotional bullshit again at this time. I really can't afford it. Studies are pressing on me, undone ETs eat at the back of mind, friendships start to fray at the end and relationships seem so much more murky now.

I guess I've reverted back to when I viewed the world with layered glasses. Meaningful layer after layer like the peels of an onion. Trying to peel each layer off just makes you cry so you just look at it with its skin on. The skin doesn't make you tear up, but the others will.

Quite sad, really, how the rose-tinted ones broke with the slap across my face. At least I've had them for a month, maybe more. I did quite enjoy myself greatly seeing things in shades of grandeur and optimism.

As usual I turn to One Republic. Others have their Radiohead and Skrillex and Metallica, I play safe with OneRepublic because they mend my soul with lyrics and words and beautiful songs.

Beautiful. Now that word has got a heavier meaning attached to it and I'm not sure what to feel about it. Certainly I appreciate the gesture greatly.

I wonder if I'm being fair to the people around me, but then again, it's not like I have a choice, right? I'm not selfless and all-loving. I care about others, but what use is that if I can't love myself first? Obviously self-hate is not helping me in any way here. Now is not the time to ponder upon the great dislike I have of myself. Lets save it for another rainy day.