Saturday, March 24, 2018


All I need is to keep awake for the rest of March. Last night, I went for a barbecue with the work fam. It was great but I have a sleep debt that might put the US national debt to shame lol no I’m keedz I’m just delirious from lack of sleep. I have had such a good, good, good week though, and my heart is so full. Thank you. :3 eeeeeeee less than three heart hahahahaha I’m talking nonsense, it has been nice and the wedding! The wedding! Ah. One day I hope to see my laptop again to embed Instagram posts but I haven’t been home enough to see my laptop at all. I’ve been out and about and perhaps, very likely in love.

Friday, March 23, 2018


Life is great, it is amazing. Tom Marvolo Riddle me this? What a lovely week. I gotta go. This weekend is going to be intense.

Thursday, March 22, 2018


We had a hen’s night for my cousin. I don’t have my laptop at the moment so I can’t embed the Instagram post right now but will include it when I’m home from work later. It was a lovely night, and I already shed tears. My cousins, one of whom is the bride and one of them another bridesmaid, were discussing how they would probably cry if they looked at me on the day and see me crying. I have a reputation for crying at every wedding we’ve had in the family so far. Considering the cousin who is getting married is my first best friend in life — we’ve gone to the zoo in matching overalls, we went through first crushes, we saw each other develop our own quirks and personalities, I really wonder whether I should even bother putting on makeup on Sunday. My face is going to be a right mess.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018


isn't it? isn't it? isn't it?
isn't it? isn't it? isn't it delicate?

This is my new favourite ever Taylor Swift music video. My sister Melyssa and I are very confused, we were like "damn it she might have all the shit problematic politics but we still suckers for her music and videos" we are suckers I tell ya, suckaz.

I love this video, though, I'm sure Taylor would love to be invisible sometimes, and so do I. Is this the new Taylor Swift music video I will emulate? Who even knows anymore?

I wonder if perhaps she also has BPD. I mean, you must have some pretty intense emotions to have written all those songs about people. You know, at the time I posted the Shake It Off cover video, a lot of people were telling me that I do remind them of Taylor Swift, which if you think about it, isn't such a good thing: she's a dramatic, self-entitled prick, who always makes things about herself.....

.....I am the Singaporean Taylor Swift, aren't I? Sighsies. Maybe she really does have BPD, I mean, we can't control our condition, okay!

Speaking of being invisible, I am going to be really candid in this post. I like attention, but I suppose I cannot control the sort of attention I get. Ever since I broke up with my first real serious boyfriend, a decade ago, I already knew there would be a problem writing about my relationships and love with men.

The girls he dated after me were all... quite preoccupied with finding out everything that had happened with him and I, even like, years after we actually dated. Also, the guys I dated would also be preoccupied in finding out the same thing.

So sometimes, when I'm dating or when I'm trying to get over someone, you can see their name like 40, 70, hundreds of times on this single page, and you wonder, is this girl really over him? I think I also make it difficult by writing it down, because yes, everyone probably gets reminded of their exes and their dates by hearing certain songs, or walking past certain places, but then the moment passes, and the link is broken, but I cement those moments by writing about them, and making them a thing.

I also use the word love very frequently, so it sets a lot of people on edge. I don't know what I'm trying to say, or I know, but I don't know how to say it. If someone's name is not in this post, then I am very much over them.

If you know all of the things, all of these things that everyone else does, and you know all of the things I've tangled myself in, and gotten other people tangled in, and you like me, you must like me for me?

we can't make any promises now, can we babe?
but you can make me a drink

Tuesday, March 20, 2018


I got diagnosed with borderline personality disorder a long while ago. I thought that diagnosis was the cure, that once I knew I had it, that was it, but then I went right ahead and did exactly as people with BPD are predicted to do: 

"BPD, like other personality disorders, is linked to increased levels of chronic stress and conflict in romantic relationships, decreased satisfaction on the part of romantic partners, abuse, and unwanted pregnancy."

I know I am not normal. Sometimes I can be not normal, in a good way, and sometimes, I am not normal, in a bad way. I know sometimes I assume that what I know, everyone must also surely know, but of course, that is very far from the truth. I don't know if even my best friends know that I have BPD, even if they do know that I engage in reckless behaviour, more than a little occasionally.

I don't want to dwell on it, and it's not like it manifests itself all the time, but oftentimes, when symptoms of my BPD surface, I really am not able to recognise it because I am caught in the middle of the situation to see clearly, and also because one of the symptoms is repression, which means I will frequently repress negative feelings and force myself to think of something else besides the present situation.

The Wikipedia page for BPD is very informative and most of it describes me to a T. I'm going to be lifting whole sentences and sections of it that I feel pertain to me, and hopefully I will keep coming back to this post, the next time I want to engage in such behaviour. I'm not asking y'all to keep tabs on me, but sometimes, it might also help if you call me out on it, if I can't be my own devil's advocate.
Borderline personality disorder, also known as emotionally unstable personality disorder, is a long-term pattern of abnormal behaviour characterised by unstable relationships with other people, unstable sense of self, and unstable emotions. There is frequent dangerous behaviour and self-harm. People may also struggle with a feeling of emptiness and a fear of abandonment. 
People with BPD may feel emotions with greater ease, depth and for a longer time than others do. A core characteristic of BPD is affective instability, which generally manifests as unusually intense emotional responses to environmental triggers, with a slower return to a baseline emotional state.  
People with BPD often engage in idealisation and devaluation of others, alternating between high positive regard for people and great disappointment in them. In Marsha Linehan's view, the sensitivity, intensity, and duration with which people with BPD feel emotions have both positive and negative effects.  
People with BPD are often exceptionally enthusiastic, idealistic, joyful, and loving. However, they may feel overwhelmed by negative emotions ("anxiety, depression, guilt/shame, worry, anger, etc."), experiencing intense grief instead of sadness, shame and humiliation instead of mild embarrassment, rage instead of annoyance, and panic instead of nervousness. 
Impulsive behaviour is common, including substance or alcohol abuse, eating disorders, unprotected sex or indiscriminate sex with multiple partners, reckless spending, and reckless driving. Impulsive behaviour may also include leaving jobs or relationships, running away, and self-injury. People with BPD act impulsively because it gives them the feeling of immediate relief from their emotional pain. However, in the long term, people with BPD suffer increased pain from the shame and guilt that follow such actions. 
The often intense emotions experienced by people with BPD can make it difficult for them to control the focus of their attention—to concentrate. In addition, people with BPD may tend to dissociate, which can be thought of as an intense form of "zoning out". Dissociation often occurs in response to experiencing a painful event (or experiencing something that triggers the memory of a painful event). It involves the mind automatically redirecting attention away from that event, presumably to protect against experiencing intense emotion and unwanted behavioural impulses that such emotion might otherwise trigger. Although the mind's habit of blocking out intense painful emotions may provide temporary relief, it can also have the unwanted side effect of blocking or blunting the experience of ordinary emotions, reducing the access of people with BPD to the information contained in those emotions, which helps guide effective decision-making in daily life. Sometimes, it is possible for another person to tell when someone with BPD is dissociating, because their facial or vocal expressions may become flat or expressionless, or they may appear to be distracted; at other times, dissociation may be barely noticeable. 
Evidence suggests that BPD and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) may be related in some way. Most researchers agree that a history of childhood trauma can be a contributing factor, but less attention has historically been paid to investigating the causal roles played by congenital brain abnormalities, genetics, neurobiological factors, and environmental factors other than trauma.

Saturday, March 17, 2018


It’s March 17. I used to have a best friend who was born on this date. She is now 28. I now have three best friends that I’ve fallen out with/grown apart from. I hope it ends at three. It is about nine days to my first best friend in life getting married. I cannot wait, a little because I’m quite nervous as I am preparing for her hen’s night, and also will be by her side on her wedding day, but mostly because I’m so glad that her big day is finally here. I’m so happy for her, and you can bet your bottom dollar I will be in tears at some point of time on that day. I gotta set my makeup really well.

Friday, March 16, 2018


I don't have much to say. Only that Dua Lipa's concert in Singapore has changed venues, and more tickets for it will be released on Monday. My sister and I will be trying to get them. That's all. Besides that, I only have photos for this week. I'm tired from my period, have a lovely weekend.

I know I’m flawed: I’m vain, selfish, stubborn, arrogant, I get competitive at weird unexpected times, I can be loud and sometimes overbearing, I feel too much, too often. Some people don’t like me: they think because I’m intelligent, I like to spend time alone, and I (sometimes) look like this, I must be a cunning bitch, that I am not trustworthy, so men play me before they get played, but I am not that person. I’m confident, but I would never hurt another person. I’m honest, reliable, dedicated, fiercely protective of my loved ones, I’m kind and compassionate, and I always, always trust people before they even show me who they are. I am human, and I am always learning, about my fellow humans and about myself. I have a deep faith in humankind, and perhaps this makes me a fool, but it also gives me hope. I want to say of this series of photos — that it’s time to be a big girl now, and big girls don’t cry — but with a little tweak: big girls and boys and non-binary people can and should cry when they need to, and I definitely will cry when I feel overwhelming emotions as I am sure to, but I am a woman now, and I think what this means is it is time that I don’t pursue things that I know will make me cry. 📷: @bangbing_b8 #fergie #biggirlsdontcry #photography #model #malay #asian #studio #portrait
A post shared by Sarah Mei Lyana (@sarahmeilyana) on

Thursday, March 15, 2018


Yesterday I told a colleague/friend from work that I’d seen her boyfriend on Tinder. I was next to her, sent her the screenshot for verification, and told her that I could see his Facebook friends on that account and her Facebook account was one of them, so it was definitely his legit account.

I thought that was it, but later that night I saw a guy friend of mine, whose girlfriend’s Instagram still has nice #couplegoals posts of themselves, on Tinder. And you know you can tell what people are on Tinder for: sometimes, just for a little benefit of the doubt, they could be networking or looking for friends or whatever, but you know when someone’s trying to pull, or get laid. You just know.

I am very tired. My father was not a faithful person (who knows if he is now), and I’ve gotten into my fair share of things — remember when I liked a man so much, I truly liked the person he was and trusted him because we had such an intellectual connection, until I found out he was cheating on his fiancée with me?

Maybe it is just my fault for believing in love and for trusting that other people believe in the same thing, or to expect men to be faithful. Who knows. I wish someone trustworthy would earn my trust again. People are such trash.


Zayn and Gigi are no longer together so we can all pack up now, pack our bags and go, because love is not real and nothing lasts and I am out. There is no such thing as love. I repeat: love does not exist! I’m going to only chase money ‘cos money is real.

Edit: today Stephen Hawking died and one of the things he said was “remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet” and I needed that, look up at the stars look up at the stars look at the stars they are shining for us and we are shining of them

Wednesday, March 14, 2018


Asian-born Asian female friend: how is it dating white guys? Are there racial dynamics that come into play?
Me: talks non-stop about race, thinly-cloaked misogyny, class, power, social economics, etc

*five days later*

Me: still talking

Same friend: do they have bigger dicks?
Me, smiling from ear to ear: well, can’t say I’ve ever been disappointed

And there you have it, my friends, the best and worst human being in the world, Sarah Mei Lyana, A.K.A. ME


This Tweet is a very real thing though.

Why do the veins on men’s arms appeal to women so much? I mean, there’s evolutionary purpose in men being attracted to women’s hips and breasts, etc, but the veins on arms. Very very strange, because it’s not even the size of their arms that matters, it’s the veins that protrude and run down them, like mmmmmmmmm. Curious. Perhaps it’s a sign that they are musicians and have well-trained hands? Ahahahahaha, who knows.

Mmm-mmm-mmm! I am trash.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018


though the truth may vary this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

A couple of months ago, I was in that weird funk, and I felt really poorly about myself. I wanted to be happy, really, all I want is to be happy, I don’t care about being happier than anyone else, I don’t care about this goddamn thing and making people think I’m happy, I just want to be happy, for my own sake. I told Aqilah it’s so hard because sometimes I think my happiness is directly tied up with a lot of other people’s happiness, and I don’t want to make them unhappy, but I don’t want to live to make someone else happy, either, you know. Aqilah turns fifteen this year, but she is very mature, she is the third sister in the household I live in, and everyone we know can tell she’s wise beyond her age. So she says, at her grand fetal age of fifteen years, she tells me “you don’t have to care about someone else’s happiness, not everyone can be happy at the same time. Imagine if Trump got his way and was happy because everything happens the way he wants, do you think you would be happy about it?” Then I realised, girrrrrrl, I know nothing about life and my sisters are the bomb. I cannot equate anyone else’s happiness with my own.


Today was a good day, I had VeganBurg with Han. It is a Monday and it was a good day, so imma go out on a limb and say this week will be a good week. My period app reminded me that my period will be here in three days, and therefore there is a low chance of me getting pregnant but the scientific truth is of course there is 0% chance of me getting pregnant because I don’t fulfill the basic criteria for getting pregnant. Very good, self. Very good indeed! Today I also watched Cosmos and it was about how the land on Earth all used to be one giant supercontinent, named Pangaea. To be honest, I really wish my family members would watch Cosmos, perhaps they might be a little enlightened. They don’t exactly watch the most educational of things, though. Sighzzzzz. I’m out. Have a lovely week ahead, my loves!

Monday, March 12, 2018


I have a new nightmare that when I’m in the cage being lowered to see the sharks in the water, the chain somehow breaks and the cage sinks and the sharks follow it/me down in the sea and I’m fucking drowning and that would be the worst way to die and I keep picturing it in my head and I most definitely have to do this thing by the end of this year or I will make it into an even gorier Final Destination scenario and the pit in my stomach will never end.


One time, I was in an Uber in LA, and the driver made conversation ‘cos he knew I wasn’t from there (or not — I mean, they make conversation with everyone over there, so whatever) and he asked what my name was so I told him Sarah Lyana. He said “oooh that sounds like Sierra Leone, you know what that means?” I said I didn’t, so he told me it means mountain lion. Dyou know that another name for mountain lion is cougar? It is no wonder I like younger boys. Geeeeez.

One of my very favourite books is We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, it is pretty much a transcript of her TED talk of the same title. Please either read the book (it is a way short one, I bought it at the airport to read during a flight but finished it in 20 minutes before I even boarded) or watch the clip.

This is one of my very favourite quotes by her:
Of course I am not worried about intimidating men. The type of man who will be intimidated by me is exactly the type of man I have no interest in.
I loooooove it. Every day I try to remind myself, don’t fold into yourself, Sarah, don’t tone down, don’t bend, don’t make yourself smaller to fit into the space that a man will allow you. Don’t, not anymore. I am not worried anymore. The type of men who are turned off by me, is the type of men I am not interested in.

Sunday, March 11, 2018


I once had a colleague whom I was rather pally with, but in a pally way, because he was attached and I knew he was attached. I mean, sure, I could look at his face without wanting to vomit and sure, I laughed at his jokes, but then I did that with all my friends, male or female, attached or single. Whenever his girlfriend came around to our workplace, though, she would never smile at me nor even actually talk to me, and I did not know why, I tried to be polite and cordial. Then I found out that colleague of mine had cheated on her previously, and then I realised, what the fuck, couldn’t be me, I would never be able to continue being with someone who has cheated on me because, what the hell is the point, if I’m always going to be looking over his shoulder? My Lord, and that lack of trust, and the misdirected angst and distrust, I mean, I had never done anything wrong, it was him who had cheated. Other women are not the problem. If your man is loyal, it doesn’t matter what woman is in front of him, not even Alicia Vikander. Well, not unless you and your man have that Friends-inspired arrangement where you each get a free pass if you saw a celebrity and slept with them once. But I ain’t no celebrity, and I don’t know any couple who have that arrangement, anyway. Geez. Could. Not. Be. Me.

Anyway, today was their wedding day, as I saw from Instagram. That’s why I’m talking about it. Couldn’t be me. And I am so glad for that. I just wish all women knew men ain’t shit and that women deserve better.


Netflix's LOVE page just released their Spotify playlist and the first song is Hate That You Know Me, although it was barely the first song featured on the season.

If you also watch LOVE and love it, here's the playlist. Also, if you do watch LOVE, please talk to me about it, because I don't know why it's such an undiscovered gem.

Saturday, March 10, 2018


I’m done watching! A season of ten episodes, two seasons of twelve, roughly seventeen hours in totality. I definitely want to do a rewatch sometime. For now, what’s next? Everything Sucks? Perhaps. :)


Second ep, Hate That You Know Me by Bleachers was used in the soundtrack. I looked up the lyrics and see that Carly Rae Jepsen sang on it with them.

sometimes I hate that you know me so well
some days I wish that I wasn’t myself

It’s a very boppy song though, can’t get me down. Ahhhh how I miss... I miss. It’s a happy Friday night/Saturday morning. Still love, and still miss. We’ll see, we’ll see. Kinda want to text now but like, it’s 2.49am here so like, you know, do I miss him or do I miss him? Hehheh *waggly eyebrows* naw I don’t want him to think I’m incorrigible. I don’t want to text because I’m incorrigible, although I pretty much am.


I just watched the first episode of the third and final season of Love and I squealed in cringey laughter for half the time. There was Japanese porn and masturbating, drones and fireworks and whoever wrote the script for this episode wins all the points. I die. The show is produced by Judd Apatow, I don’t know who that is and I’m gonna play my “I live in Singapore and certain parts of the media don’t trickle down to me” card although the truth is just that I don’t know lots of things, I’m not knowledgeable. But Mickey is played by Gillian Jacobs from Community, and who doesn’t love Gillian Jacobs and Community, amirite? Of course, only while Dan Harmon was the showrunner bc after that it pretty much went down the drain and nobody watched Community anymore. Love definitely ties with Black Mirror for my favourite Netflix series. I hate that it’s ending. Also I have decided that my future husband has to watch Love in its entirety and enjoy it as much as I do. I’m decidedly very sure that I have a future husband even though all current signs point otherwise but you know, I’m an 8, so I’m sure I’ll get a husband someday, if I don’t keep imposing new criteria like watching a billion TV shows and reading twenty thousand books.

Friday, March 09, 2018


The third and final season of Love is out on Netflix today (not just yet because it’s not Mar 9 in LA yet) and tomorrow is my off day so you know what I’ll be doing. Binge-watching Love, filling in apps. Perhaps exercising a bit, though that is rather unlikely given that I’m not inclined to exercise unless it is good for my core like sex but I don’t currently have a sexual partner, so binge-watching Love it shall be. Bye bitches.

Thursday, March 08, 2018


If you are a woman, congratulations. You’ve been fighting a battle since birth, whether it’s to prove that you have as much brains as you are beautiful, or that you should wear whatever you want to wear and it does not mean anything about your worth or values, or that you have the right to dress up and love makeup and fashion without being shallow, or that only yes means yes, and at no point of a man thinking you are acting coy does it make it the truth nor justify him acting on his assumptions that you are acting coy, or that you can feel horny and initiate and pursue sex without feeling any shame for it, or that you absolutely don’t like or want children, or that you definitely want children and to stay at home and take care of them, or that you can do anything a man can do, just as well as they can. Keep fighting those battles, and if a man ever says anything like “why is there no men’s day as an equivalent to women’s day”, drop that man. If he doesn’t recognise that you have been constantly fighting your own battles as a woman and every day is pretty much Men’s Day nor recognise his privilege at being a man, drop him. Men ain’t shit. You’ve got this, girl.


I watched an interview of Lin-Manuel Miranda on Oprah, and it was about Lin bringing Hamilton: The Musical to Puerto Rico at the start of 2019, in which he will be reprising his role of Alexander Hamilton (!!!!! if anyone gets me a ticket to this my soul is yours - just the musical ticket is fine, I'll settle airfare HAHAHAHA).

No but anyway, Lin talked about how when he was younger, he was always feeling a little out of place when he would spend one month out of a year back in Puerto Rico because he would always be a little gringo-ish (white man) for them, but back in the US, he was always the Latino/person of colour.

He then said that is what makes a good writer, if you always feel a little out of place, and something in my brain went ding ding ding (!!!!!!!!).

When I was in the US, they wouldn't believe I was Asian, because I spoke English very well, but they knew I wasn't from there, either, because I have an accent (I have been told it sounds closest to Indian, although I don't have Indian blood). And here in Singapore, nobody shares my ummmm, my vehement passion for "I will do what I want". I swear, everyone here cares about someone else's feelings and lives by those things rather than pursuing what they want.

So yeah, perhaps that is why I write.

Today there was a book fair at the mall where I work, and book fairs are the legitimate worst. I will never be able to walk past one without getting something, ergh, I HATE THEM. I judge books by their covers, though, so I took one that immediately caught my eye, by virtue of being neon pink.

It matches my new graphic tote bag. You know, some of my colleagues hate the colour pink, so they tell me not to wear so much pink, and I'm like, wow, way to go, for people who are supposedly supportive of marginalised communities, y'all are waaaaay open-minded and accepting. ;)

The first page of the book rather assures me that this is a read I will enjoy, it's an excerpt that the writer chose:
Was it Laurie Anderson who said that VR would never look real until they learned how to put some dirt in it? Singapore's airport, the Changi Airtropolis, seemed to possess no more resolution than some early VPL world. There was no dirt whatsoever; no muss, no furred fractal edge to things. Outside, the organic, florid as ever in the tropics, had been gardened into brilliant greens, and all-too-perfect examples of itself. Only the clouds were feathered with chaos — weird columnar structures towering above the Strait of China.
The cab driver warned me about littering. He asked where I was from.
He asked if it was clean there. "Singapore very clean city." One of those annoying Japanese-style mechanical bells cut in as he exceeded the speed limit, just to remind us both that he was doing it. There seemed to be golf courses on either side of the freeway....
"You come for golf?"
He sucked his teeth. He had his doubts about that one.

— William Gibson, "Disneyland with the Death Penalty", Wired, 1993

Wednesday, March 07, 2018


In the past hour or so, I have been feeling at ease. Suddenly, the knowledge that everything is going to end, that the sun will run out of fuel, that humankind will cease to exist, that everything is meaningless, makes me feel much better. One day a couple of years down the road a Sarah will look back and wonder why I used to feel so much stress when there isn’t any need to. Whether I stay in Singapore, or move to the US, or move anywhere else, whatever happens, it really doesn’t bother me, lol. I don’t know how long this will last, until Trump enacts a ridiculous nationalistic Neo-Nazi policy? Until the next shooting that forces students to think about how to stay alive instead of how to do geometry? Until another big-scale sex scandal happens, forcing people to display their blatant disregard for feminist and gender equality issues? Until my mum inevitably polices what I wear? I dunno, we’ll see. My sister Melyssa was trying to show me a video of a dog who had had snow boots on his hind legs, causing him to walk an entire round on only his front paws, but before she could even find the video, she kept laughing uncontrollably. Life is alright. Even if it isn’t, even if it’s better than alright, or worse than alright, it’s still alright, because it will end. So it all works out to being alright. I wanted to see Dua Lipa but her tickets for Singapore are sold out, and I’m not paying more money to a scalper, so that’s alright. I mean, I like her songs enough on Spotify. Is this what it means to be a mentally-balanced adult? Maybe. We just have to see how long this lasts. What is going to set me off? I think tomorrow if Julien texts, I will let him know I don’t really want to date him anymore. I need a lot of attention (even text/online) and he doesn’t really give me much, lololol. It’s alright if you’re judging me for that, I am at least aware of my own boundaries and what I’m willing to settle for. That’s what dating is for.

Tuesday, March 06, 2018


Today a friend asked whether Adam had nudes of me, and I was like, ehhhh yes, and I have his too, some smoking ones awwww yeah hehehe but of course we have stopped but yknow, whatever. But anyway so I asked why, and she said her boyfriend has hers, and he told her if they break up they wouldn’t be secret and he would upload their videos onto porn sites, but then he also told her he’s only with her for the sex, and I’m like, wait a damn second. The closest I’ve gotten to such manipulation by a man I dated is probably Daniel Grayson, who cheated on his fiancée with me, while I was completely unaware. I mean, everyone else has been, I dunno, stupid and young and foolish fuckbois. Like, as much as I want to be angry at Joey, what we did was a rookie mistake, we both knew I wasn’t on birth control and neither of us actually took much precaution, I didn’t see rubber that entire month hahahaha. I mean, I did get pissed because his crisis management was quite non-existent, but it’s also not his fault I come from a conservative background and my family made me feel miserable for nothing. What I’m saying is a lot of people I dated could have handled things much better, but most of them didn’t have any malicious intent, when you come right down to it. But emotional blackmail is a completely notha level. Abusers have premeditated motives and intention, and if he says shit like that, this guy is bad news. I just read an article of batterer’s intervention, so they were a circle of abusers who were asked whether they started abusing their partners immediately: they all said no, because if they did, then she would immediately leave — they would wait over a year and calculated an optimum of two years to hook her in and give her reasons to stay, before they started abusing her. This shit is real, these people are cold, calculating and manipulative. They are not drunkards, and it is not out of their control, these people have a malicious intent to hurt and anyway what I’m saying is sometimes we all need all the support we can get and I hope my friend has the strength to separate herself from the toxicity soon.


What is a rags-to-riches story, if not a token for the rich to justify that you can make it if you wanted to, if you were not lazy, even if the odds are against you, for the rich to continue to be complicit to a system that perpetuates a rich-poor divide. Rags-to-riches stories provide reassurance to both the rich and the poor, and sadly, for very different reasons. If you are a rags to riches story personified, please be aware and don’t let yourself be a token statistic, that the reason your story exists is that there are the rich, and then the poor.


Will I always think Teenage Dirtbag is relevant even well past my teenhood? Possibly.

I met my cousin Syafiqah and her husband Ziff at Superloco Customs House for some Mexican food. We shared the fish taco, beef quesadilla, ceviche and a squid dish (I forgot what it was). They're both in the advertising industry, and Ziff does art directing in Saatchi, telling me about their fast track program. They both gave me tips on my portfolio.

The conversation got to the #metoo movement, and Ziff talked about how almost a decade back in Singapore, an ECD at one of the big firms (Ogilvy I think), Robert Gaxiola, had been playing with multiple women, and then those women banded together to write a blog that named and shamed him. Sounds like something I would definitely be in on. I wanted to read it but it has been taken down!

We talked about Aziz Ansari and the Weinstein controversy, and it is always very interesting for me to see the views of other women as well as of men, because geez, do they differ. We were also wondering whether in Singapore, the law recognises that marital rape exists and Syafiqah used her phone to Google "husband rape wife Singapore" at which point Ziff exclaimed "why would you do that to your algorithm?!" because you know, now Google thinks perhaps it is an issue she's facing lolol.

They asked what I wanted to achieve with my novel, like what I want people to compare it to, and I instantly said Black Mirror. I know what I want in the novel, an alternative reality that does not exist, but I want people who read it to feel like it does exist, like it's real. I don't want to write and people to feel like I'm trying to create something that's not already there, it has to exist in the minds of my audience.

You know how when some writers write, the characters feel like they jump out of the page, like you're barely reading words off a page, but you imagine it happening somewhere, even if the technology currently does not exist: I want to craft a world like that - like how Black Mirror is pretty much happening, even though it doesn't, not technically. I don't have the ability to do that, not yet, so I'm reading works that engage that craft, until I do.

Ziff recommended a book about writing/storytelling (not sure which, perhaps both?) called Invisible Ink, so I have to go get that sometime soon.

We moved on to P.S. Cafe at One Fullerton and had yums dessert.

I had the ginger and earl grey pudding, served with ice-cream. Ziff had something chocolatey, and Syafiqah had her favourite sticky toffee pudding, but after tasting mine, she said maybe she would change to the ginger as her new staple. I loved mine, hehe.

At P.S. Cafe, we talked about children and how they can be the devil's spawn, sometimes regardless of how much their parents try. I said that having a diverse group of friends would perhaps help in envisioning the spectrum of people your child could turn out to be, but they were very shocked at this idea. Apparently even if you accept certain people as friends, you would still not want your children to turn out like them. This I found intriguing, try this exercise - if you have friends, people whom you actively choose to socialise with, that you would not want as your children, it means you are not ready for children.

I think it is very amusing, though, because I would think I am that friend people would not want to have as their child, I am insubordinate and I have a mind of my own, and I dunno, I question everything and hate accepting the status quo.

On the way back, Kak Syafiqah talked about how she had silently primed and conditioned Ziff to tweak his toilet-roll-changing habits, and was now trying to get him to tweak his eating habits, to like eggplant and squid ink and all that, and she says she's a little psycho, because she applied and applies behavioural conditioning to her husband after having read about it.

Then I realised, we are all a little psycho and to admit the areas in which you're psycho to other people, those are the best social circles, because it means you're giving the other party an aspect to judge yourself by, and more often than not, you don't get judged because the gesture is reciprocated by the other party making you privy to certain information as well.

We talked about tattoos, because Syafiqah's sister has several, and she is one of the few (maybe three, in a family of twenty-five cousins?) people in our family that has them, so I knew Syafiqah wouldn't quite judge me, although I could tell that she doesn't exactly approve, either.

It was a great Monday, and a great way to start the week. Have a really nice March, y'all.

Today I heard a song from La La Land, and I thought about two of my favourite places, Griffith Observatory and Yosemite, which I visited in winter, and had the most brilliant white snow/nature experience with my best friend at, and I think, I wish I didn't have to hustle so much to decide between going back to my favourite places, and to settle on something more crucial for my life path, because I am but part of the proletariat.

But that's a first world problem, and I can live with it. Hustle hustle hustle.

Monday, March 05, 2018


My body is feeling all sorts of fucked up and I need a massage, stat. I slept till 2.30pm today and I’m still tired and sleepy so you know what that means: I’m old. I watched a little of Cosmos today and Neil deGrasse Tyson, who is the presenter, said nothing lasts forever, even the stars die, and I know this because we are made up of stardust and I think why the hell do I even try so hard? I will eventually be stardust — I might as well move to I dunno, Borneo and live in the wild. Sounds like a plan.

Sunday, March 04, 2018


I’m currently at the laundromat. I wish I had more time to watch Cosmos or read a book and tell y’all what I learned this week, because I feel like that might be of most value to y’all, I mean my life doesn’t hold much except my thoughts and many many feelings, I don’t know what you could possibly take away from that. I haven’t had the time, though. I haven’t learned very much this week, so I cannot impart much to y’all as secondhand knowledge. This week, I again thought that I have very nice hair and I’m super extremely happy with how it’s growing and how it looks and feels. I met a man for the first time, his name is Julien. He’s French and he says I don’t pronounce his name in French the right way, but we both like when he says my name the French way. Like Sa’gha? He climbs, but in Singapore I mean there is nothing to climb so he climbs rock walls indoors. Perhaps if we date long enough he will take me, I would like that. That night was a cloudy night, with a full moon and with the constant light pollution on this island, so there were only three visible stars. He said one of them might have been Jupiter, though, and he took out his phone to use the sky map app to sort of place and name whatever stars we could see. When I got home, I said I missed him, because I did, and he said “we are close, we are under the same moon” so you know, maybe it’s true what they say: French men and their sweet tongues. *eyeroll* I’d better watch myself, because this guy, he makes me laugh and he keeps saying I’m cute and I’m pretty and I’m funny. FRENCH MEN. Beware the species that is the sweet-talking French man. I keep trying to say Julien the right way instead of Julian the English way. His brother’s name is Guillaume, which is the same as you know, my long-time friend G, who always says I’m unable to say his name right. The French are such snobs!!!!!

Edit: I am now facing a problem for the first time in my life. I’m waiting for my clothes in the dryer, and it is starting to rain. What do I do? Stay tuned to find out.

Saturday, March 03, 2018


My sleep deficit has racked itself up to me being able to sleep for the rest of my lifetime. However, I don’t think I have any late nights for work in March, so it’s now time to catch up on sleep and rest and do my school apps, and prepare for Hazwani’s wedding. So March Love ahead! My love to all of you too! Have a lovely March x :)

Friday, March 02, 2018


It has been a good week and a bad week, in perhaps equal parts. I had sushi with my best friend, I cried for hours on end, I keep having restless sleep and wasting time on social media, I’ve gotten nice little rewards and recognition at work, I spend a lot of time getting closer with my work family, I spend too much time in the company of my work family, the boss of Lush Singapore went to the Lush Summit and got us totes and mine is one with pink graphics that says “rights here right now” around a fistpump —  my new favourite tote bag, my schedule this week seems to never end and even when it is finally my off day on Sunday it is the day of the store meeting at 8am, which means waking up at 6 instead of sleeping in, I had mala, also another of my favourite foods, with one of my work daughters, and this week just seems to never end, and there are three more days and I am so tired of it, I would like it to just end and be over with. I want durian, and I also want to ask someone out for durian, but I cannot confirm whether he’s single. I also do not know why I’m attracted to him, ever since college days. I think his passion for community is inspiring, but we’ve never talked and he probably does not like me, but then he has captions about laundry and sunflowers and I wonder. I wonder.


Can someone please tell me I cannot possibly like someone I’ve never said a proper full sentence to, even if he and I are showing up at the top of each other’s Instagram Stories viewerships and I am very excited to know that he actually knows I exist? (Actually I don’t know if I’m at the top of his, but I would guess so because I’ve been looking at it more and more, as I post Stories and he views them instantaneously as well.)

I don’t even know if he’s single. What if he doesn’t even like me? Maybe he’s just intrigued. Ergh so many questions. The only right answer is I should be sleeping.

Thursday, March 01, 2018


You know there’s a thing, how if you smile you apparently boost the happy hormones in your body or something, so now I’m smiling to myself while typing this, in hopes that I will feel better, but I think it just makes me look silly. I don’t feel much better, still tired and wired. I don’t even know what the tired/wired thing means.

What am I grateful for? My cousin is getting married and her bridesmaids (myself included) are planning a little something that I’m looking forward to. Unfortunately my cousin is a good little girl so there will be no strippers HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay so that made me grin to myself and that felt quite nice.

I haven’t gone for a massage in quite a while, and my body is so tired. Why is this in a post about things I’m grateful for? I dunno, I’m srsly too tired to focus. What am I grateful for? Come on, Sarah, be present. God I’m hungry, I didn’t have time to eat before leaving home and I’m so damned hungry.

What am I grateful for? My head is aching. Sometimes at work there are tourists from other parts of Asia who are not able to communicate in English at all, and sometimes I can’t even convey or infer much from sign language then I think, it’s a good thing I speak perfect English. Then I realise Jesus Christ, what a colonised person I am, and then I feel bad about myself, and I hate the British and I hate when people make fun of my Malay accent, because that’s honestly not even a microaggression, that’s quite racist, I sound Malay because I am Malay. Fucking hate it that I’m expected to speak English the way a Westerner does, when if they tried to speak an Asian language, they sound like complete idiots. Why is this in a post of my gratitude?

I dunno, I just don’t feel much good today and trying to force myself to feel positive is even more exhausting and counterproductive and I changed my mind. Today I am just tired. Geez. Let me just sleep.


I just woke up. Left work at 2am after having done inventory and I have to leave for work again in half an hour. On the one hand, I dread the commute to work, it takes up such a chunk of my time, daily, weekly, monthly and in life. On the other hand, I am doing okay in life, remember, this is where I need to be at this moment. I don’t have much good to say, except that if you get what you give, then I must be getting a lot of love back, so, yeah, give it to me. Do I even know what I mean? Am I even awake? When I start asking questions in a row, one truly wonders. I need time to fill up my apps, and not the kind that you install on your phone to do things. Sciencespeed, Sarah. What am I glad for? I’ll do another post about the things I’m grateful for, on the way to work, later.

Wednesday, February 28, 2018


“Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.”

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

— The Fellowship of The Ring
I am on the way to work so as always, it gives me an hour to ramble whatever I want to ramble about. I posted the photos of Mochi with the shampoo bar on my own Instagram account, and my biological dad, who follows me, commented “but I think Snowy had nicer eyes”, referring to a cat he used to have.

I do not know if it came from a place of narcissism and having to bring everything back to himself and his own life, or whether he thinks everything needs to be a competition. Either way, I’m glad I’ve figured out where I receive certain parts of my personality, and things I need to work on. I can only hope each of my mother’s four kids and my father’s six also realises these things to work on in themselves, and sooner rather than later.

For the past few days (or many more, alright I admit), I’ve been lamenting the fact that my peers are settling down, are high-flying in their careers, are building families and putting down their roots in homes that will last perhaps the next decade. And I wonder why I don’t have any of that. But then I also think, most if not all of them had parents who stayed together, who were not toxic, who understood the importance of financial and family planning, and consequently these friends and family members of mine did not have to grow up way ahead of their time, and were allowed to have their childhoods, and therefore could transition into adulthood much more easily.

I keep having to remind myself that life is not a competition, and that for what I’ve been given, for the cards I’ve been dealt, I’ve played a pretty fair hand, I’ve never tried to cheat my way out of it. I also am a very dissatisfied person, I mean on a daily lifestyle basis I am quite low maintenance, but I have very lofty ambitions. My friends and family are happy with starting families and working where they are.

But me? I want to move to a place that believes in ideals, I want to leave behind a legacy. I don’t even know what legacy I want to leave, but I know I am not contented with living an ordinary life. And it doesn’t take one night to build a legacy, it doesn’t take even the same amount of time as everyone else has taken to get to where they are, it will take much more time. We are all working to what we want, and all our lives are works in progress.

Today I feel a little glad that I got pregnant and miscarried, because even if I had received a university education, I would not have learned everything I’ve learned so far if I hadn’t gotten knocked up or miscarried. If my family, my household, my mother and grandmother never found out about my activities, how much longer would it have taken me to eventually claim ownership of my body and my life? Would I ever even have confronted the issue? Who knows.

You’re doing okay, Sarah, for what you received and your intended destination, you are doing okay.

Edit: two nights ago, I met my best friend Han and we were having a conversation about the men I’ve dated, and I said not all white men are the same and rich and like Joey, and she said “the trust fund kid” I dunno why it popped up in my head I’ve never even said the words trust fund in my life and this has nothing to do with anything but TRUST FUND KID is so funny it hurts — no more trust fund kids for me in life, thx hahahahahahahah “trust fund kid” my best friend is the literal best


Yesterday, Zahidah and her husband dropped by Lush Vivocity, because they were nearby, and Aryan was there of course. He is truly such a happy, happy-making baby. He's so chubby and his smile is so cheeky and he's so gonna get far in life, because it all starts with whether you are a cute baby hahahahah.

Sometimes I wonder why people have babies, then I look at babies like Aryan, and some of my other friends' babies on Instagram, then I think, oh yeah, they're adorable and make people happy. But! Of course, having a kid is not just when they are a baby and making you happy - you must be equipped to care for that child, until you have to let go, because you do not own your child. Repeat after me: you do not own your child.

Tuesday, February 27, 2018


I spent a day taking photos and thinking up captions for the work Instagram account. The photos are not up yet, and my captions are not finalised, but I thought you might wanna know some of the reasons why I really love Lush, and working for Lush.

Cats (and dogs and rats and birds and rabbits and all animals worldwide) thank you for choosing Lush, because we are against animal testing. Not only do we not venture into markets that require animal testing, Lush only buys ingredients from suppliers that do not commission tests on animals.

(Also: isn't Mochi just about the most model-worthy cat???? How is she so photogenic even with a broken leg!!!!!)

Well done or medium rare? We like our animals well and truly alive, so our products are 100% vegetarian.

Those yellow stickers tell you when your product was made, and its usage period. Our products are all handmade, so it also includes the person who made it for you. Just a fun fact, 'cos you could be seated next to the person who made your soap when you take the bus!

Lush knows that the most natural state is naked, so we do the same for our products! You can find naked versions of most of our products, because packaging is a waste. It truly is, it is a waste of space and money and everything that we can save on, you can save on. Say yes to no waste! (Also: the amount of plastic in oceans is already astounding enough, so it's really time to cut back.)

To get you started on recycling, you receive a complimentary fresh face mask for every five clean pots you return to the store, and this applies worldwide!

Charity Pot is one of the most charitable things you can do for yourself, and for the community as a whole. It's jam-packed with nourishing ingredients for your skin like organic jojoba oil, fair trade organic shea butter, fair trade organic Colombian cocoa butter and fair trade olive oil, just to name a few.

Fair trade means that farmers get paid what they deserve because middle men are removed from the equation, and many a time, these communities are given a chance to grow and flourish beyond what they have always known. They've started libraries, educated themselves on permaculture and sustainable plantations, become independent women in co-ops, etc.

Thirdly, 100% of the proceeds (minus tax) from each Charity Pot sold goes to local grassroots charities around the world that align with Lush's ethics in environmental conservation, animal welfare and human rights. Grassroots charities means that they do not already receive support from the government.

Man, I could go on and on about Charity Pot. It still amazes me that this thing does good for everyone involved.

Give the gift that keeps on giving! We don't do gift-wrapping (because packaging is a non-essential), but if you do want your package to look extra pretty for a special someone, you can get a knot wrap! We can wrap your chosen items, in these knot wraps - inspired by the Japanese tradition of furoshiki. Here are a few examples of what the recipient can do with them, besides the Lush items you've lovingly chosen for them. Knot wraps are some of the biggest employee favourites, we use them to bring our lunches around, keep our hair up, carry little tubs of products, and some are even good as picnic mats!

I could go on and on and on about Lush, about the ingredients that are chosen to never harm the environment, about fighting for human rights causes, about how they truly care about animals, etc. But my main love, to be honest, is the packaging of the products (I know, I just told you packaging was a non-essential). I love the puns and the innuendo and the copy for each item, they're so ingeniously named and described, and I feel like, man, I wanna meet every single person who thought of the paragraphs for each product, and salute them, and be friends with them. I wanna Be them.

Monday, February 26, 2018


A couple days ago, one of my superiors was giving me feedback and she said she feels like I have a calm and composed energy, like I don’t get flustered, which is a different case from how I would have been just months ago. She says it helps because when I portray myself to have the calm energy, I give off those vibes and other people can mirror the same. I feel like it’s because the year of depression I had really sapped a lot of my energy, so nothing really fazes me anymore. I mean, in daily interactions, I no longer panic and freak out, I honestly just keep calm and carry on, because that’s honestly all we can do in life. I’m going to keep calm and carry on, because I can start by myself, and if there is anyone who needs my energy to mirror, they can do the same. Hold my hand, we can all keep calm and carry on together.


I woke up today and said it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay to myself. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. If you say it enough times, it will be true. It’s okay, Sarah, my darling, it’s okay. It is okay. It is okay. It is okay. It is okay.

I cry occasionally, when I’m sad, like now, but then I think back to when I found out I was pregnant, then had a miscarriage, heard things from my mum that broke my heart, and cried everyday, thinking I could not go on, but I did. It is okay. It’s okay, Sarah. It might take time but it is okay. Every time you feel down, it still feels like the most down you have ever been, but you know that it isn’t true. It is okay.

Sunday, February 25, 2018


She whispered his name with the deliberation of a child trying out the distinct sounds. When he replied with her name, it sounded like a new word - the syllables remained the same, the meaning was different. Finally he spoke the three simple words that no amount of bad art or bad faith can ever cheapen. She repeated them, with exactly the same slight emphasis on the second word, as though she were the one to say them first. He had no religious belief, but it was impossible not to think of an invisible presence or witness in the room, and that these words spoken aloud were like signatures on an unseen contract.

Saturday, February 24, 2018


I am on the way to work, as I so often am, and I was listening to Ariana Grande’s Tattooed Heart (I give you one guess as to who put it on my Spotify) and bopping to it while walking at the interchange of trains. A girl about 9 or 10 years old, turned to look at me and gave me the sweetest conspiratorial smile, I don’t know if she heard the music through my headphones — I hope not ‘cos that would be really loud, or if she saw me tiny-dance, but I smiled at her, and I think, things are alright. We don’t suck and are attractive, we have the woes of not sucking and of being attractive. I can live with that. Have the loveliest weekend, y’all. Note to self: when you get home, take out the marketing post-it you took from Chanel from your denim shorts pocket before you bring them to the laundry and paperfy everything

Friday, February 23, 2018


Did you know that traditionally, Muslims are not supposed to have tattoos? It’s because the ink on a person’s skin prevents their ablution from cleansing that part of them, before they perform their prayers. This is, of course, bearing in mind that they are even steadfast to their prayers. I’m not sure I believe in a God of religion, although I can’t say for sure that there is no higher power, so perhaps I’m an agnostic. I don’t feel it, so I don’t believe it, but if there is something, then things can always change. My mother and grandmother are traditional Muslims, and have not accepted that I am barely a Muslim, let alone a traditional one, they always hope that one day I will see the light but if I get a tattoo, it will be a rather obvious sign that I will not tend towards that path. Many Muslim parents of people I know have broken down because their children got tattoos, and I foresee the same for my own, eventually. It is quite sad, that one would feel disappointed based on what their child did to his or her body. For one, it shows how superficial your relationship with your child is, to depend on their physical appearance instead of the person they truly are. For two, if anyone ever asks you for examples of how religion is used for easy governing and for people to turn into mindless sheep, show them the rules of policing how a person should dress or treat their own skin and body.


If you didn't know that sunflowers are my favourite flower, now you do.

"don't bend, don't break, baby don't back down" because it applies to myself and my individuality, all through my life, and also I felt like it was quite a pun, seeing as it's on my back, no I don't know why I'm like this. Never thought Bon Jovi's It's My Life would have so much meaning to me, but I guess, why not?

The other one would be an upside-down map, because I think the world can and should be what you make of it. Just because someone made a map centuries ago, does not mean you have to subscribe to that map. Turn your world upside-down and carry it around with you.

I am exhausted. I stayed up overnight for shipment at work, but as tired as I may physically be, my heart gets quite full knowing the people I work for and work with are some of the most like-minded individuals I could possibly meet.

Yesterday I learned from Farah, one of my colleagues-turned-friends, that Nina Nakamura is half-Malay and half-Japanese, her mother is Malay and her father, Japanese. She is the coolest!!!!!!!

Thursday, February 22, 2018


Sometimes I wonder if I’m a social climber of the strangest kind. I could have gotten pregnant with anyone’s child, but it had to be someone I met in LA, who was one degree away from a name at the forefront of technology at that. Then I think I also really liked Adam, who is pretty much the opposite end of the spectrum, who recently only got his membership card at a socialist club (or whatever it’s called — I’m not scrolling through his Instagram) and he and I said when I was in New York, he would help me when I’m getting pads and tampons and giving them to homeless femmes if they wanted them. Like, only last year I realised I had nothing to complain about during my period, I have a roof over my head and always have, I have access to clean and functional sanitation facilities, I have the money for painkillers, and there are so many less fortunate women in the world, and I want to help as many of them as possible, because you’re only as strong as your weakest link and if there is a woman in destitution, fuck me and my soaking in bathtubs, srsly. Today I saw someone working at an American-based multinational corporation, at the Singapore office, and I think of how Singapore has absolutely no resources to speak of, not even land, and it’s trying so hard to keep all its people, it has to have its people on lockdown in terms of finances and housing and everything within its fathomable control. On the other hand we have places like USA that has problems keeping people out, that even if its own citizens left by the hordes, it wouldn’t try to stop them. I think and I think and I think there must be a flaw in the system, a loophole I can exploit, something I can use as a bargaining chip, but there isn’t. I’m just going against nature, I’m swimming upstream. I am a salmon. And that’s the end of this thought thread.


My life isn't even worth one coin.

Actually, there is no follow-up to that, I just wanted to say at 27 years old, on Feb 22, 2018, my life and all I own isn't worth one single Bitcoin. I mean, if you don't count my money that is tied up in CPF (ie. our government-mandated 20% "savings" that I'm unable to touch until I retire at 97 billion years old or if I stop being a citizen of Singapore for five years - meaning, once I've migrated and renounce my citizenship, I will have five years to count down until my trip around the world or something).

Bitcoin apparently fluctuates quite wildly, though, so perhaps next month I would be able to own five? Meh, who knows. Who cares. Life will end. Follow your bliss. Also: not that I have any interest in owning Bitcoin. The more things you own, the more things own you. Is it time to rewatch Fight Club? Perhaps, perhaps not. My life is ending one word at a time.

Today, I asked Adam what he's currently reading (answer: Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami) and when I opened my laptop to blog, I realised our old iMessage conversation history had all reloaded itself and I was enjoying my reminiscence until I accidentally clicked close on the tab, GOD FUCKING DAMN.

Will I ever get over this man? Perhaps, perhaps not. But you know, life ends, follow your bliss and all that. If I want to read about us being cute and enjoying each other being cute, I WILL DO SO. Anyhow, I'm sure there is a way for me to retrieve the conversation somewhere in the archives of my iCloud or whatever. Someday I'll do it. Or maybe not. Don't know, don't care. Life will end.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018


One time, Adam had a dream that he played me his music and I didn’t like it, and he felt downhearted for it, even though I have never heard any of his music in reality nor commented on it. I had a strange dream last night, it was not related to Adam, but then when I woke up I still felt feelings, so I suppose, try as we might, sometimes it is the most unreal of things that feel the realest. Why do the opinions of those we love matter so much, that we tend to hurt them, when we don’t hear the opinions that we want? How counterproductive is this, lol.

Last night, I met Pamela and we talked about her existential crisis and how neither of us would want kids. Before we’d met, she told me that Nina Nakamura thinks I’m gorgeous:

Nina works at another Lush store in Singapore and she’s super cool and pretty, so like, yeah. Girls supporting girls, I’m so in for this. Also: Pamela is pretty and everyone is pretty and if no one has told you you are pretty today, here, take it from me (the person who’s so bad at lying I never even try), you are beautiful.

I was listening to the Valley Forge demo on the Hamilton mixtape (whose playlist on my Spotify I have fondly renamed Hamixtape, because I have strange feels about the entire universe of Hamilton the musical), and it’s basically Lin-Manuel Miranda battling against himself as the different characters “do you have no influence at all, you fucking skinflints?!” and you can hear him doing all the vocals on his GarageBand, and it made me think:

Lin-Manuel and Vanessa Nadal and their son, Sebastian, and their second child on the way, are some of my favourite people in the world, and I barely even know them. If I had life shipping goals, it would be between Lin and Vanessa, and Mark and Priscilla and their daughters and dog who is the cutest mop-dog in the world.

Like, if anything bad happens at all, on any given day, whether in my life or in the world at large, all I have to do is look to either couple/family and I feel better. We all need more things to give us hope, and I hope y’all have something like the Mirandas or the Chan-Zuckerbergs for regular words and actions of hope, or otherwise, you should just follow them on Facebook/Twitter/your choice of social media. I’m out!

Tuesday, February 20, 2018


I signed up for all three sugar daddy services available in Singapore and backed out and deleted my accounts before even meeting a single person. I really just want money to study, and I think it’s sad that I have to resort to unconventional methods. I don’t think it’s sad if anyone else does it or is doing it, do what you want with your own set of morals. I just think it’s sad that the world has come to a place where education is so expensive that to get an education, one is willing to engage in transactions one normally does not. Every time I want to open a tab, I see a tab on my mobile Chrome that is the Wikipedia page for Mark Zuckerberg. I find this incredibly strange because I never went to that page in the past month or so and do not know why it’s there. Do you think if I emailed Mark Zuckerberg, he would sponsor my education? Lol why on Earth would he? Who am I? Nobody. I texted Adam last night, and he says he has been feeling better ‘cos he’s gotten into drinking tea and reading before bed. See? I knew this man could take care of himself, the weekend before last he told me he was going to do his taxes. If he can do his taxes, he can take care of himself. A couple of nights ago, G sent me a photo of a hedgehog with a “ça va??” greeting because I hadn’t replied his previous two texts. Last week when I was in the hotel room alone on my staycation, he suddenly decided he was back to being my “French husband”. Men. It’s what they all do. They start with cutesy shit then one day you meet them at the national library and they’re stealing kisses in elevators. It’s tough to believe in my own value when men constantly give me less than what I want, and try to make me feel like I’m okay with it. I’m not.