Grace

 

I wonder what it's like to be dead and to be in heaven.

Do you still see and feel for the family you left behind

or do you frolic through paradise all day long

You fumble through memories, when was the last time I saw them

what was our interaction

cause you never ever expected it to be the last

and before it all slips through your hands like sand

you go into deeper memories

when we were in Hong Kong for the first time

when we were in Indonesia for the first time

when we were kids

You were the first Grace I know

The perspective of learning about somebody's passing

suddenly everything is so irrelevant

pointless

and empty

Most of the time being alive, we're busying ourselves with work

work for money

use money to buy minimal and temporary happiness

and death comes rolling around the corner

mostly unexpected

//

I guess it's the memories you leave behind

and the lives you've touched

It is definitely always harder for the living than the dead.

 

 June 3 was one of the best days I've had.

The day before, Mommy asked “你最想吃什么？”

I casually said bee tai mak or macaroni soup.

These dishes have fed me through life and brought me so much comfort.

To get up and have these dishes ready to start and sometimes to end the day.

Yesterday I woke up to bee tai mak for lunch AND macaroni soup for dinner.

Spoilt.

and

Score.

Talked about life with Mommy and even signed up for baking class at TP with her.

And whispering after dinner with Joy, about Frank's rolex.

BBQ

 

Everything materialistic wise seems ever so trivial now.

current obsession: iKON

We watched The Godfather (1972) two nights ago (I know, finally). This is what I learnt:
To sleep with the fishes means to be murdered, to be killed and the body hidden from the public. The expression sleep with the fishes is a popular term used in media that portray the American Mafia or organized crime.

These days I struggle between wanting to listen to music and reading. Are people able to do both at the same time? And I don't mean, jazz sans lyrics background music, I mean full 3-4 minutes of people singing about love, heartbreak and whatever else people write songs about. I need to disconnect and isolate either senses to fully enjoy the chosen activity.

I have had a sudden realisation a couple days ago, and have been pondering about it. I feel that I'm losing myself in some conversations, I'm not sure where my feet stand and where my mind is. So back tracking it was.

When I was 17 or 18, I used to hang out with somebody who would talk about himself all the time, ALL-THE-TIME. I don't mind if you're interesting, but not when you have to link every single thing back to youself. It was so bad that it became one of my pet peeves (besides people dragging their feet when they walk). So I made an extreme conscious effort to not talk about myself–just in case I apply the same annoyance I received. I'm not sure if I'm that considerate or because my anxiety got me overplaying scenarios and what people think of me, ok fine, I know it's the other way around–overthinking and overplaying has spiralled me into this thing called anxiety. (And only at 26 or 27 that I learnt that there was such a thing called social anxiety.) And so, if I don't about myself all that much, I really don't, do people actually know me? Who do they actually know me as? Just a photographer (uhoh), somebody's gf (please no), worst of all, boring (shoot me).

And I wonder, is it because I don't talk about myself that I make such a good listener.

And I wonder further, if I start talking about myself, would people actually pay attention or listen?

All In

Debt has been cleared.

Next day update–
list of things I can't do without feeling the ache:
1. Brushing my teeth
2. Drying my hair
3. Trying to scratch that itch on my back

Haven't tried carrying that 13kg frenchie with an underbite.

Minor Figures

Some days I feel like I've hardly used my brain and sentences don't roll off my tongue. Phrases and terms are always stuck in between broken memories and disconnected thoughts, and when do they come up, I am Twisty the Clown – my tongue gets twisted and I look like a clown.

So today's my third attempt to have a chai latte, the first two times were with earl grey tea and they didn't really turn out as expected. My tastebuds rejected the concoction. While I try to tell myself, it's not so bad or I'm not doing something right, at the back of my mind, I'm telling myself to SUCK IT UP (pun intended), because I have 5 unopened chai concentrate sitting in my kitchen.

Switching up from almond milk, I've ordered a litre of oat milk (just one this time *stares blankly at my 5 litres of chai*) - as instructed by the right side of the chai concentrate. And all these brought about random conversations with Delon recently, discussion over milk, cows and agriculture.

Oh, discovering new things with friends, what a lovely process it is.

penang

Penang was in May, this post is obviously long overdue

I'm pretty sure I've lost the will to blog, but I will look back some day and be thankful that I did what I'm doing.

Probably when my hard disk crash or sth (touch wood)

Highlight of the trip: Golden Shower by Chinchin, all the food that we ate and Grab rides that were of single digits.