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Posts Tagged ‘life’

I believe that beauty is relative. Everyone has different ideals, and we all have the right to decide on what we do about our own appearances. I personally have and eccentric sense of fashion that I suppose many would consider quite odd, and yet I’ve always believed that I’m entitled to wear whatever I consider attractive, regardless of popular opinion or whether or not it fits in with the latest trends. It’s for this reason that I go completely insane with irritation whenever someone thinks it’s acceptable to stick their noses into my business and question my personal fashion choices.

For instance, a few days ago I decided to wear heels to attend my university lectures. As my university requires a uniform, my shoes are pretty much the only thing I actually get to choose. I wanted to wear something unique and expressive, plus the heels were pretty adorable. It isn’t a crime to wear heels, but one of the other girls attending the same lecture decided to ask me why I wore heels. It was a harmless question, and if it had stopped there I wouldn’t have given it a second thought really. Except it didn’t stop there; she then continued to tell me that in her opinion, I shouldn’t wear heels because everyone else was wearing flats, and heels just “look weird”. It’s not just the heels, but she also went on to suggest I also change my hairstyle, and let my hair down like the rest of the girls, because “everyone has long silky hair and that’s what’s beautiful”. Well excuse me, but I don’t particularly care about what everyone else is wearing. It irks me somewhat that fashion has become a game of “who can be the fastest to follow”, when it really should be about expressing your individuality.

Although it is difficult to not take appearances into account when observing those around us, I still find it bothersome that physical appearance plays such an important role in the way we view others. When we first meet someone, before even getting to know them we subconsciously take in details regarding their appearance. We look at their gender, their skin, their features… As if recognising a person by their looks is the same as knowing who they are. I’m not going to go all the way to say that we are a bad race because we consider appearance instead of only looking at the personality or whatever. I’m just saying that there’s more to people than good looks. It’s perfectly fine to find certain people highly attractive, and other’s less attractive. It’s fine to notice what others are wearing, and to try to look good yourself. What’s NOT fine, however, is when you judge people solely based on their appearance, and what they’re wearing. What I really dislike is when my more… self-confident peers would judge strangers by what they’re wearing, and if the clothes they see are deemed tacky or if the person does not fit the requirements of “attractiveness”, the stranger is put in the forever-not-my-friend zone. When did friendship become about grabbing the most glamorous people? Mind you, this irritating phenomenon goes both ways. I find it equally annoying when my friends and I would walk past someone who’s stereo typically considered “pretty”, and one of my friends would snigger and say “I’d never be as dumb as her to waste so much time and money on make-up. I’ve got better things to do. I mean, I actually have a life.” I don’t appreciate this linkage of beauty and stupidity (and that’s putting it pretty lightly). Just because someone wants to look good, and puts some effort into their appearance so they can walk out feeling happy and confident, does not mean that they are shallow and that they don’t have things to do either. I’m not sure if this applies as much to the male population, but being a female I know first hand that this happens far too often. The real question though, is why do we do it? Why do we separate ourselves into different categories and discriminate against each other? It’s really unnecessary. We’re all gorgeous in our own ways (and I know some hater is probably going to say that’s too arrogant of me, because society is never pleased, but I genuinely believe it) and there’s no need to judge other people just because they don’t look exactly like you do. Put the gossip mag down, and let’s all get along.

Don’t change yourself to suit the preferences of others. Don’t think that you have to lose weight just because you think you have to look like a lingerie model to be beautiful. You don’t. If you want to lose weight, it should be because YOU want to have a healthier lifestyle, not because some jerk said you were chubby. There’s no need to starve yourself just because people can’t see your bones (those things are hidden under skin for a reason). Don’t feel like you need to spend ages on your make up and clothing just to please the eyes of people who frankly, don’t really matter. If you feel like having a chill day, and you just aren’t in the mood, then don’t bother. Go out wearing your old sweats; it’s all cool. Dressing up should be a fun thing. It should be something you do out of enjoyment, not something you do to hide yourself. Likewise, don’t feel scared to dress up either. If you happen to want to dress up and go crazy, then do it. There’s no need to worry about whether others will judge you, or about being considered shallow for putting a bit of eyeliner on. You aren’t shallow. It’s fun to dress up and put on something you think looks good. Sometimes that time spent getting ready in the morning can make the day seem even more exciting. It’s fun to stroll around feeling confident in your appearance. Nothing wrong with having fun.

I’m beginning to lose traction of what I’m going to say because there’s just so much going on, oops. I guess what I’m really trying to get across is that you shouldn’t take too much heed of what others are saying (unless they’re complimenting you, in which case you should most definitely take heed and give truthful compliments in return, because our world is sorely in need of genuine compliments right now). Fashion and beauty aren’t about dressing the way the magazine tells you to; it’s about expressing yourself and doing what makes you happy. So what if your favourite shirt doesn’t fit with the latest trends. So what if everyone’s into classy chiffon and you still love wearing vintage skirts. In my opinion, fashion should have only one rule: if you like it, wear it. There’s more than one type of beauty. As long as you love what you’re wearing, walk with your head held high and eyes shining with confidence, you’ll look amazing.

Bottom line: do what makes you happy.

Whatever you’re doing, as long as you’re happy (and abiding with the law, because we’re all law abiding citizens ;]) then you’re probably don’t something right. Life is too short to worry about what Vogue says.

Be happy guys. You’re all lovely, beautiful people.

And on that note, adios!

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I am fully aware that the last time I showed any signs of life on this blog was in January, when I made a post to apologise for my inactivity, and to wish you all a happy new year. Now, half a year’s gone by, and to my dismay I haven’t managed to make any posts in that time period. Instead of wasting your time with even more apologies, I guess I’d just like to say thank you to those who haven’t gone straight to the “unfollow” button. I love all my followers, and it really brings me joy to come online and see that there are people out there who still comment on my posts and follow my blog, despite my inconsistency. Speaking of followers and comments, I realise there are quite a few comments that I haven’t had the chance to reply to. THIS, I have to apologise for. To any of you who’ve made comments on my blog and did not receive a reply; I honestly wasn’t intentionally ignoring you. I’ve just been really inactive for the past five months, and I didn’t get to see your comments. Please don’t take it personally, I realise how rude I’ve been and I actually feel pretty bad about it D:

Anyway, with that all aside, here’s the real purpose behind this post: I’m no longer a freshy. Today is my last day as a freshman. It’s also the last day of what has got to be the most eventful academic year of my life. It feels like only yesterday when I received my letter of acceptance, and I entered the campus wide eyed for the very first time. Then, before I’ve realised, it turns out I’ve actually managed to endure an entire year of sleepless nights as a University student. Time sure flies fast.

Now that I’m on holiday, I’ve finally got some time to sit down (and write blog posts xD) and think about my experiences as a first year student. A lot has happened to me in a year, and I believe I’ve changed as a person. University has transformed me from an innocent child with pigtails into a tough caffeine addict. It has taught me how to set my priorities straight (sleep, when possible, is of utmost importance. Midnight snacks are a close second. loljk.). It has basically given me a glimpse of the “real world” – one that involves socialising with people with varying backgrounds, and enduring heart-wrenchingly honest criticisms from your professors.

In all seriousness though, University has taught me a lot. I’m a lot more mature than I was when I first entered, and after having completed my first year (after all those sleepless nights and the struggle for good grades) I feel like there isn’t anything I can’t do. For all those of you out there who are about to enter University, here’s my advice (most of it is actually pretty obvious). Stock up on coffee, stock up on snacks (trust me, when you’re working on an essay or studying at 3AM in the morning, you’ll NEED all that to keep you from going completely bonkers), MANAGE YOUR TIME WELL (procrastination is a big no-no – you don’t want to end up pulling more all nighters than you need to, because you spent all your time watching cat videos on youtube), and HAVE FUN. I really stress the last point. Although I make it sound like all my time was spent studying and unleashing my inner nerd, I also spent a lot of my spare time just enjoying myself with new friends, and doing new things. First year, in my opinion, is the time to fool around. It’s the time to make mistakes and do things you wouldn’t normally do. You’re only a freshman once, so I encourage everyone to use this year to your fullest. Be daring; don’t just “live a little”, live A LOT. If you’re spending almost all your time locked in your room and reading a textbook that weighs more than me, then you aren’t properly living the Uni life. Really put yourself out there. Make new friends, join clubs (excellent way to meet new people by the way), just DO STUFF.

This whole work hard play hard concept actually means quite a lot to me. Growing up, a lot of my elders always stressed that I should be only focusing on my studies, instead of “wasting time”, so I can graduate faster. I completely disagree. It’s a waste of life to spend it all focused on your grades and your studies. Naturally, you should be working hard, but not to the extent that you forget what fun is. (Just in case anyone needs it, the definition of fun, according to dictionary.com: Enjoyment, amusement, or lighthearted pleasure). Contrary to popular opinion, there isn’t really anything THAT great about graduating a year or two earlier than everyone else, because at the end of the day, you’re probably just going to end up getting a job and working even more (unless you somehow manage to create something innovative and life changing like Microsoft). In my opinion, I don’t see what’s the hurry. I think University is probably one of the best times of your life – it’s when you’re old enough to be independent and free to make your own choices, but also young and innocent enough to enjoy yourself without being stressed out by grown up career problems. I thing these years should be treasured, and every moment lived to it’s fullest, not rushed.

Looking back on the past year, I’m actually pretty proud of myself. Thinking about all the effort I put into my studies, and all the fun I had, I feel quite accomplished. University has really made me feel that as long as you work hard and put in effort, nothing is impossible. And, of course, if you don’t quite manage to reach your goals, at least you’ve still got those midnight snacks to cheer you up.

And on that note, that concludes this long-awaited post. How was your past year spent?

Adios!

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Sometimes I Write

So a week ago my city flooded, which is pretty much my “brilliant excuse” for not posting in such a long time, despite my promises of consistent posts. To make up for my absence and general inactivity, I have here for you, a little something that I wrote. It’s actually inspired by the flood itself. Obviously the writing is patchy, and highly in need of editing. In my defense, this was something I wrote carelessly in a moment of boredom. Comments and critiques are welcome. Enjoy!

—–

We were trapped by a rivers worth of water and a dozen sandbags, so there really was no other choice. The problem was the smell. Outside the house, it smelled like a garbage truck, inside was even worse. I pinched my nose, revolted, and noticed all my family members wearing the same disgusted expression. Who could blame us, really, when we were surrounded by the tropical aroma a flooded sewage system brings. Throughout the day, we stood with a grim resolve; determined to prove stronger than our senses. The smell sickened us, but we did not complain.
I watched as my mother paced the room, fussing about nothing important – some preparations that really ought to be done later. After all, what’s the use of preparing when you’re confined to a single floor, and forced to tolerate the intolerable smell of waste? The smell had grown so pungent by now, I was pretty certain the air was toxic. To make things worse, our family dog decided it was the right time to do his business, and he left us a lovely present right by the door. I stared in disbelief as my mother continued to pace, as if nothing had happened. I expected someone to confront her, mention the unpleasant aura hanging in the air, and maybe point out the nutritiously foul blob of excrement she was clearly overlooking. I had brothers; surely they were suffering just as much as I was? And yet, no one uttered a word, and she continued her feverish pacing, muttering gibberish. Realising the task had been left to me, I stepped into her path.
“Mum,” I began, the complaint hanging on the tip of my tongue. Six pairs of eyes darted toward me, wide with reproachful scorn. Even the dog faced me with disapproval. Though none of them spoke – clearly they must have lost the power of speech – their eyes said it all. Quiet, insolent girl! How dare you disrupt our peaceful silence? Startled by their angry glares, I clamped my mouth shut and stepped aside. The spotlight that had been trained on me was snuffed out, and I went back to my suffering.
Unfortunately, the smell was not the worst of our problems; when midday arrived, the sun decided to unleash its full wattage, and roast us under its merciless glow. With our doors and windows all closed, the seven of us were trapped in a tiny room full of smelly hot air. It was like a very good sauna, except there was no fresh water you could splash around in to escape the heat. My sweaty fringe was plastered annoyingly across my forehead, and the itch on my neck was unbearable. The heat had transformed my brother into a tomato; his puffy cheeks were bright red and shiny with perspiration. I shuffled toward him, “it’s getting pretty hot in here,” I muttered. He ignored me, and continued wiping the sweat from his eyes. I coughed slightly and repeated my statement. He turned, “it’ll get cooler later.” I was not exactly sure when later was, but the answer certainly wasn’t good enough. “When?” I demanded. “Quiet, and don’t do anything” he hissed, uneasily. I suppose I should have known better; my brother was not the sort to make much of a fuss, and he didn’t appreciate others making a fuss either. I decided to keep quiet, certain that one of the others would notice the sudden rise in temperature, and perhaps open the windows. Surprisingly, no one did. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and the heat did not go away.
A few days after that, a snake entered our house. Let me first mention that I happen to fear all reptiles of any form, whether they be lizards or geckos or snakes. I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one with this phobia, and this time I wholeheartedly expected someone to scream out. But alas, my family regarded the snake with a silent apprehension, and not one did anything about it. Unable to take it any longer, I opened my mouth – oh how impudent of me – and complained. My brother turned to me, a smirk playing across his lips. “It’ll die,” he told me, as if he were the elder brother. I stared at him, speechless. I began to realise that no one in this family was ever going to speak up against the absurd circumstances we’d been forced to endure by the flood, and that was probably because we were all secretly cowards, scared to show any form of weakness in a situation where we were constantly being tested by nature.

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Now, I’m not one who enjoys talking badly of my friends (or anyone, actually), but there are certain people on this planet, who I think take self-modesty a tad too seriously… To the point where it becomes self loathing.

Before I begin, let me give you a brief background on what I’m talking about. In general, there are two types of modest people. The type who are modest because they want attention (you know, the type who purposely say bad things about themselves so other people can shower them with praise), and the type who are modest because they genuinely think they aren’t good enough.

I couldn’t care less about the ones who crave attention – whatever their intentions are don’t matter to me. I’m talking about the people who really aren’t happy with themselves.

I’ve got a friend who is constantly criticising herself. She’s either too thin or too fat, too pale or too tan. In class she’s under the misconception that no matter how hard she tries, she can never be as good as the top tier students. Like me, she aspires to write, but she doesn’t dare to start because she’s afraid her work wouldn’t be as good as she hopes. She believes her life is going nowhere. Well, of course it isn’t – not with that attitude!

I know I sound harsh and uncaring, but it irritates me to see people so displeased with themselves. We’re all different, and each of us is amazing in our own ways. Perhaps you aren’t as attractive as the people in the magazines. Perhaps you don’t have the best grades in class. But what does it matter? Why let it get to you? We have our own strengths and weaknesses, and it’s not the outside that matters, it’s – cheesy as it may sound – the inside. If we all moped about all day, and mourned over what we lacked, would we have come this far as a race? No. J.K. Rowling wouldn’t have created Harry Potter if she’d been too afraid of failure to write. Steve Jobs wouldn’t have created Apple if he’d been afraid to try. Insecurity happens to all of us, but we must overcome it, and look at the bright side. We’re all so perfectly imperfect, so why waste time crying over what we can’t be, when we should be focusing on what we can be?

I’m beginning to lose track of what I’m saying now… All this emotion is confusing me. Basically, I know this is a cheesy, sensitive post. But I honestly believe that all of you are wonderful, awesome people, and you should be proud! I know I’m completely weird and crazy, but I don’t care. It’s who I am, and I’m proud of it. So to all of you insecure people out there: YOU’RE FINE.

Adios!

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SURPRISE SURPRISE SURPRISE. I actually got a birthday gift this year… A month before my birthday.

Strange as that may be, it’s no surprise really – as usual, my mum couldn’t handle the excitement and suspense, and decided on a whim to reveal my present a month early. She didn’t even bother hiding it – the moment she walked through the door she was all “I GOT YOU A GIFT!!1111!”

Anyhow… Moving to the gift itself. This year, for my birthday, I got… *DRUMROLL*

MY OWN CAMERA. *eek*

Before you run away, I apologise for all the girly hyperness and whatnot. It’s just, I’m amazed. It’s not just any old camera; I got my very own DSLR. The thing is sitting on my bed right at this moment, and with it’s sleek black modern form, it looks completely out of place in my bedroom. A black gem in a sea of unwashed clothes and old books. To be honest, I can hardly believe it’s mine. It seems so… strange, to have something so expensive in my possession. Ahh, what can I say? I love my mum to bits.

That aside, I’ve also invested in getting myself a gift this year. Now that I’ve gotten myself a part time job, I figured it was about time I invested a bit of time and money in my appearance, and make an effort to actually look presentable in public. I’m dedicating this entire week to filling my wardrobe with new shirts, trousers, dresses, whatever. Today was day two of my shopping spree, and though it’s really tiring (my legs are in great pain) I quite enjoyed myself. During my search for new clothes, I’ve also discovered that I quite like girlish cosplay-style clothes. I’ve also somehow attained this new fetish for colourful, “kawaii” wigs (as in, curly wigs that are bright pink/blue/strawberry blonde etc). Who would have thought it? I guess my years as a tomboy have finally come to an end. My parents will be happy – I’m finally going to dress like a girl. Then again, I heard from a friend that the “gyaru”, girlish cosplay way of dressing is used by many as a way to rebel against the norms of society. So I suppose the rebel in me hasn’t left yet.

All in all, this is a pathetic post, and you all deserve much more than this. But frankly I’m too excited by my new camera to write anything coherent, so I guess I have no choice but to leave you with this. Sorry guys. I promise once my birthday passes and I get used to my new toys, I’ll write more!

Adios!

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So yesterday was the 1st of July, and I was actually planning to write a blog post… but then I didn’t. Which just reminded me of how I haven’t actually written anything new or interesting recently. Which just reminded me of how I also didn’t write that post I promised I’d write – the one where I explain with apologetically why I haven’t been very active for the past few weeks. Which all contributed to reminding me that I’m still a lazy procrastinator, and being weeks away from my birthday doesn’t exactly change any of that.

Now, I know it’s foolish to believe that I’ll magically grow up once my birthday arrives, but I still quite like the idea of “improving myself” and “changing to be a better person”. I suppose a lot of this thinking was inspired by a relative, who visited me a week ago (she only just left yesterday with her family – part of the reason why I haven’t exactly been very productive on my blog). My relative is a distant cousin, an American citizen in her mid-40’s. We never really got along that well until recently – partly because I only see her once every two years, partly because I wasn’t mature enough to understand her. That aside, this year, somehow we managed to get along better, and a lot of what she said to me has inspired me to take a look at my life and start choosing my own paths etc. I know, I know, it sounds completely cheesy. But this cousin of mine started her own business when she was 23, and though I never noticed it before, I realise I really admire her lifestyle. She’s got her own happy family, her own business, and at middle age she still manages to maintain a good figure and fashion sense. Somehow, it makes me feel kind of useless in comparison.

Don’t get me wrong – this is not a post where I wallow in self pity. No, this is a post where I announce to the world (or at least, that tiny, minuscule portion of the world that actually reads my blog) that things are actually going to be different once my birthday arrives. I’m going to make resolutions (and actually stick with them), I’m going to cut my bad habits (or at least, most of my bad habits), I’m going to turn over a new page, I’m going to become a better person. *dramatic music* Basically I’m embarking on a journey similar to the one Bridget Jones took – one where I keep a diary (in this case, an e-diary) and try to stop being such an awkward freak.

To those of you who actually know me in real life (which reminds me – why on earth are you reading my blog? If you know me, you should stay away. I don’t want my writing to scare you off… Who’ll wait with me in the lunch line?) , you’re probably going to sneer at my bold statements. And I know, I’m terrible at keeping resolutions. I know I’ve said countless times that I’ll change. But this year is different – this time I actually mean it. I plan to really start getting organised, and look after myself. I know it sounds dramatic, but this year, I want to change everything. From my style to my organisation to my outlook on life. It’s like spring cleaning, basically. Out with the old and in with the new.

Being this close to my birthday has really put a lot of things into perspective for me. I keep thinking I’ll become an organised, non-lazy and successful person when I grow up, but I guess that type of thinking needs to die or something, because I need to become that person now. Most of the time, we say things like “someday I’m gonna be rich” or “someday I’ll be successful and happy and live an amazing life”. Well, probably that someday won’t ever come. There’s only today. We’ve got to learn to go from “someday I’ll be satisfied with my life” to “today I’m satisfied with my life”. We have to start living in the moment, get our goals straight and start working towards them, or else they’ll never be fulfilled and we’ll die before our “someday” arrives.

 

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I’m Back!

Dear Lovely Stalkers,

It is with my utmost pleasure that I inform you all of my return to the distracting internet world. Finally, after an agonizing week spent away from my computer, I have managed to complete everything I had to do during this month – with the exception of Camp NaNoWriMo, which I will most likely complete on the last day of May (oh look, a rhyme!) – meaning, of course, that my blogging hiatus is over! I would very much like to share with you all the insignificant (but interesting) details of what I’ve been up to this past week, but frankly, I’m exhausted. I’ve only just got home from the final round of an academic competition, it’s 11pm, and all that brainpower I used has worn me out. I’m much to tired to function properly, let alone describe a whole week’s worth of events and still make sense. Thus, I have decided to dedicate this post to 2 important topics: my existance and thank you’s.

Firstly, I figured it would probably be wise for me to make a quick post telling you all that I’m still alive and blogging, so you don’t all just toss me into that corner of blogs that get ignored. Not that I mind getting ignored – I’d just rather you all not associate me with an empty abandoned blog.

Secondly (and more importantly), the thank you’s. I just checked my stats page (I know I keep saying stuff like “I don’t care if none of you read my blog ladidadida”, and I really don’t care at all, but I’m still really obsessed with checking my stats. It fascinates me that people actually read the rubbish I come up with) and apparently, I still have readers. Surprisingly, there are still those of you out there who follow/stalk/read my posts. I’m not very good with expressing gratitude, but I’d just like to say thank you for sticking with me and reading my blog. Even if I’m a complete newbie. Even if I’ve only got 8 posts. Even if I’ve been gone for ages. I really appreciate you guys, and even if I really don’t mind much about readership, it’s still flattering and great to know that my babbling is actually being acknowledged. Fellow internet addicts, I thank you for your support.

On that note, it’s time for bed. I shall come back online in the next few days, with an extremely detailed blog post covering everything I’ve done over the past week.

Adios!

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