UNICORN

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.

'COS I LIKE YOU

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

IN THE END, IT’S HIM AND I

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.

DOES NOT COMPUTE

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

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

DEFECTOR

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

LITTLE TALKS

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.

MICK AND RORTY

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!

NIGHTMARE

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.

SIERRA LEONE

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.

STACY’S MOM

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.

SOME DAYS I WISH THAT I WASN’T MYSELF

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.

HEDGE FUNDS

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.

NON SEQUITUR

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.

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY

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.

1955

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?"
"No."
"Business?"
"Pleasure."
He sucked his teeth. He had his doubts about that one.

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

ROOM FOR TWO

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.

HOLD UP

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.

RAGS TO BITCHES

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.

TWO TICKETS TO IRON MAIDEN, BABY

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.

ETA CARINAE

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.

SMILE

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.

FISHSTICKS

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.

BE STILL

“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

ATTEMPTED

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.

MONDAY TO SUNDAY

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.

IT’S OKAY

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.

ATONEMENT

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.

BURY ME AT MAKE OUT CREEK

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

THE MORE YOU KNOW

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.

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS

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.

THE TRAIL MARKED ON YOUR FATHER’S MAP

This is the sixth post I’ve put on here today. I am on the way to work, on a Sunday, and the third day of the Lunar New Year. This morning I recalled again, why I am so dissatisfied living in Singapore, despite it not having gun issues and natural disasters, etc. It is because nothing much happens here. One of the days that I feel most alive in this tiny island country, is in the middle of the year, at PinkDot, our version of a pride march, that is only allowed to happen with a list of caveats, that grows longer every year, as the government realises its growth. I have never been to a women’s march, nor any march, to be honest, because that is not what happens here. People here have been metaphorically (or otherwise) beaten to submission, nobody dares to step out of line. That’s why I like to travel to places where everything happens, the epicentre of media attention. Maybe that’s why people like to keep their eyes out for me, living vicariously with none of the personal risks, because they know I’m a hurricane who will never be satisfied. I’m not saying it is a good thing, sometimes I wonder why I have to be such a contrarian, why I will never be at ease unless I’m fighting for something, why my life always has to be caught in a whirlwind, when I will find a partner who will anchor me down and be my roots to the ground, somewhere. But it is what it is. I am what I am.

HUNGER PANGS

I woke up from a dream then started talking to Irene, who lives in Boston now and who says it’s currently 0 degrees Celsius and she and her husband are recovering from the flu. This flu thing, has it not affected anyone this season? I feel like it has moved to every corner of the Earth. I miss Irene, and I dunno how relevant this is (probably not at all) but I’m likely to meet Freya soon before she leaves to work in Dubai. It’s nice to see my girls overseas, it means that borders sometimes only exist in minds. I saw a photo of A at a bar, and a few days ago he said he was staying away from drinking ‘cos it helps him feel better, and I know from firsthand experience that mixing alcohol with mood regulators is a no-no. My head hurts from wondering if he’s drinking but yknow, I am going to trust that he knows what he’s doing, and I am nobody’s mother, and I am not here to take care of anyone, he is a very competent adult and I need to go back to sleep.

ALWAYS THIS

Nice people made the best Nazis. My mom grew up next to them. They got along, refused to make waves, looked the other way when things got ugly and focused on happier things than “politics.” They were lovely people who turned their heads as their neighbors were dragged away. You know who weren’t nice people? Resisters. — Naomi Shulman

ONE OF THOSE NIGHTS

It’s one of those times, a rarity, where I feel like by the grace of something I am unable to name, I have been placed in a very fortunate spot, that I am me. I am grateful I am me, that I was placed right here, because I would not exchange it to be anybody else. I really would not rather be a myriad of people I can think of, so yes, today, this instant, I am proud to be me. Is this just the ice-cream talking? Perhaps, but perhaps I have been someone I would always be proud of, and I will not take it away from me, not tonight. Good night/good day, everyone, I love you. :)

GOOD DAY

Today was a very good day. I spent it with my family. In Singapore (because I don’t know how it is celebrated in other countries), Chinese families celebrate Lunar New Year by indulging in steamboats/hotpots/BBQs, and married couples give red packets of money to non-married people. I earn my own keep but it’s always nice to have a little extra and feel young and carefree. Today I felt very happy about myself. I like myself for being brave, it has been about a year and I have made some tough and painful moves but I have grown and learned beyond where I was last year. If I could have this fearlessness to keep moving on, all the time, I will be proud of myself. Keep moving, Sarah, keep on moving forward. One can only hope one will never be so blind to the timesuck they are kept in.

CELEBRITY

I wonder what about me warrants such persistent attention, is it the fact that I don’t want to stay in the country I was born and raised in? Are my thoughts extraordinary? Is my 100% honesty refreshing? Is my writing astoundingly amazing? I have very average thoughts, I think. So why the preoccupation? Would you like to be friends with me? Because, to tell you the truth, I love making friends, as long as you are not a man I have been involved with.

Some things, I’ll never understand.

I returned to add more to this post. So like one of my sort-of-favourite things I love-hate to do is seeing a Lush Instagram post that’s more “controversial” like perhaps two men sharing a bath or when they say trans women are also women and deserve equal rights and there’s a photo of a Women’s March crowd, and then.

There will always be comments by people who say Lush is being too “politically correct” and that they just wanted to know about new bath bombs, not get political, and they are reconsidering whether to support Lush, and I’m like, aww honeeeeeey, go ahead and get gone.

People will stop at nothing to spread their hate, and I love that I work at Lush, and Lush will always take the side of love and moral integrity. Political correctness is not just gaining traction because it’s politically correct, it’s just the humanly decent thing to do, and yes, everything has to be politicised, because if it isn’t politicised, it will never change, and ignorance would prevail, so nope, we don’t want that happening. Not today, not anymore, Satan.

DIASPORA

When you’ve always dreamed of moving from the place that practises capital punishment for drug offenders and doesn’t believe in sex positivity, nor is the most tolerant of the LGBTQ community, to the place that refuses to change its gun laws, written around the same time as its slavery laws hundreds of years ago. One cage to another, one cage to another, but you will never be free, until you are free.

EH

I saw Black Panther and Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri and very much enjoyed both. Life is good. Life is very good. Life is very, very good. Sometimes I worry people think I’m happy because I’ve got some lowkey love story blossoming in my life because I’m always talking about men but I have no man in my life, not a single one, nor one in a relationship, nor any kind of wordplay you could think of, there is no loophole, I have no man and my life and I are very happy.

POURQUOI TU GÂCHES TA VIE?

So today, I had a conversation with my grandma for about one and a half hours, or so. She found out about the incident that happened in LA, and she asked whether it happened voluntarily, even insinuating that perhaps Joey had drugged me (HA HA). That is how much my grandmother wants to believe that I am the pure, innocent girl that I apparently should be - that I cannot possibly be wilfully doing whatever it is I am doing out of my own enjoyment. Like my mother, my grandma also sort of requested that I didn't do the same thing again, except she didn't do it outrightly as my mother had. My grandma also asked what my thoughts on religion are, and I tried to navigate this as well as I could, as tactfully as is within my ability to be. She thinks that I never broached the topic of my miscarriage because I think it is a mistake and I would be too embarrassed to talk about it to her or my aunts, but I didn't talk about it because I don't think it's a mistake, it's a perfectly natural, run-of-the-mill, everyday thing that happens, every day on Earth. I slowly implied that I was indeed not as... Muslim or religious as she would like me to be, and I also said my beliefs are that if there is a God, the higher entity that I believe in would not be as.... ummm, inflexible, to judge me based on whatever criteria she believes in. I told her that I know I am a good person, regardless of whether I pray, or believe in certain things, etc etc. We talked about the Quran and the Bible and she asks where I think the universe came about from, so I told her "energy" but she doesn't understand the word energy the way I do, she thinks tenaga is a thing that only exists in humans when you eat food and it is converted to the strength needed to do things. She said, there is some Science in the Quran, and I told her well, yes, but there is also a lot of science that happens without and beyond the Quran, that the holy books were written back when there was much, much less science happening, that the only reasons why people believed in the supernatural and the.... spiritual ways of why rain falls and why crops grow and all that jazz, was because there weren't any laboratories or experiments, that people didn't have science to believe in, and therefore they believed in stories. I told her that a lot of science didn't happen or wasn't allowed to happen because the religious always persecuted the scientific, that for thousands of years, and even now as we live and breathe, whenever Science doesn't agree with what the holy books say, then the religious would always be scared, that the religious would then say "how can that be, we have never believed that so it can't be true" when the answer to "how can that be?" is that it just is, you can conduct experiments over and over again and certain things will always be true, and you just have to change your beliefs. My grandmother thinks I have been led astray, but I told her I haven't been led astray from anything, I have read everything and I made my own judgment as to what I believe, and I am not a bad person. I told her when I read the Quran or the Bible, the writing is too fear-mongering and I used my own intellectual faculties to decide that the style in which it is written is not something I think a higher entity needs to employ. If you need to scare someone into believing something because the alternative is hell, then they will not be organically good people, they are simply avoiding punishment. I said all this to my grandma, but what I did not say, was that a good 90% of people should not be having kids, if they think the way she does. I think people have kids when they think that their kids will grow up to be people whom they would accept, but chances are, you don't know what your kid will be. You could have grown up a good and obedient Muslim as you were raised, or you could have been rebellious until you got married after which you decided to change, you and your husband or wife could have dated the conventional Halal way, and you could think that your child can naturally and instinctively follow your guidance, but that is just as likely not to be the case. For as long as you think you will not accept your child if they were not Muslim, if they don't wear what you think is appropriate, if they are homosexual, if they turn out to have opposite political views - whether conservative or liberal, if you don't believe in tattoos, if you think a person who doesn't live with or takes care of their parents is irresponsible, if you want them to be a doctor or an engineer or a homemaker, for as long as you don't think you can accept your child for turning out as different a person from you regardless of the effort and how much love you put into your child, if you cannot accept your child the way they are - barring criminal intent - then don't. Don't have children.

I'm gonna watch Black Panther as well as Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. I'm out, have a great weekend!

NO, BUT ELIJAH WOOD

send me your location



hadapilah ini
kisah kita takkan abadi

selamat tidur kekasih gelapku
semoga cepat kau lupakan aku
kekasih sejati ku takkan pernah sanggup untuk melupakanmu

selamat tinggal kasih tak terungkap
semoga kau lupakan aku cepat
kekasih sejati ku takkan pernah sanggup untuk meninggalkanmu

Ever since I heard this song more than a decade ago, I'd always wanted to name one of my daughters Sephia, if I had a daughter. This is one of my favourite Malay songs. It is not likely that I will have my own kid, but even if I adopt, I would like to name her Sephia. Today I thought about languages a lot. I thought about Jared, who was from Portland but who spoke (probably still speaks) fluent Indonesian because he works on mangroves and did his thesis research in the Sumatran islands, I think. I also thought about my best friend in France, who used to speak to me in French much more often, until I stopped, and now I barely recall any of my vocabulary, from both my school classes and the external institutions. I think about Adam, who understands conversational Japanese, because his ex-girlfriend of three years was Japanese. I think about how I keep going for white men whose girlfriends seem to always be Asian, and I wonder, what is going on? Should I be glad? Is this the end of racism? Is this playing into racial stereotypes? In my dating history, I have had exactly one person who spoke the same languages with the exact fluency, that is to say, grammatically anal with English, fluent in spoken and written Malay, and conversational in Mandarin. He also loved Sephia, and the song used to reflect us. I haven't thought of this song for ages, but then I saw him on my Instagram today, and then I think about him being engaged, and then I think about. How everything will eventually lose meaning when you don't employ it enough, like a language, and nothing really matters. My first love will soon be married, and it doesn't really matter to me, and the world is four and a half billion years old, and nothing really matters. What a strange thought.

28 MADRAS STREET

I posted something on Instagram today, and I was really feeling it. I really did and do believe it. But now it is three hours to Valentine’s Day, and I know it is a commercialised date for capitalism, and I know some say the date is arbitrary, but tomorrow, tomorrow is the eighth time I will be spending it alone, which means it is eight full years I have been alone, and now, I have to have one of my best friends tell me that I haven’t been alone these past years, I had plenty of adventures, but to have them telling me this, I wonder, to what end have I had all those adventures? To what end, indeed? Ah, bugger.

Edit: my app just reminded me my period is in four days so perhaps the additional gloom is due to PMS — I am going to walk over to Mustafa Centre and buy myself chocolate :)

THE FALL-OUT, OH BOY

So my sister asked about twenty minutes ago, whether I had posted anything online because apparently our mother is/was crying, so perhaps she has just read all my recent blogposts, and the inevitable fallout is impending. Sciencespeed, Sarah. Imma need all the positive vibes and energy I can get if what I suspect happens to be the actual case unfolding. I knew February was starting out too well. Was it the calm before a storm? Watch this space. Hahahahahah. It’s time to brace myself.

Edit: yep it me oh no

TIRED / WIRED

I met Zack today, he remembers the details from my blog with surprising accuracy. Things like my manager being a Filipino, or the parka from my mum, or Adam, or generally anything he reads here, he remembers. We only recently followed each other on Instagram and he said “that photo with your pigtails, you looked nice in it”, so I said “you know what would have signalled to me that you like it? You pressing like on the photo” and he said “did I not like that one?” lel okay. Today after we did all the things, he said he wanted to be friends, because he’s still not over his ex, and that he’s still fucked up from her cheating but of course, it was after all the things. I don’t know if I can blame him because I said I was passing time until I leave, although in my defence I also said I thought he was a nice guy and if I wasn’t leaving, I could and would envision something with him for sure. But then we did talk about my being hung up about other men, most especially Joey and Adam, so I suppose I can’t ask for much. I do think it is a dick move to only decide on friendship after finally having done all the things. I mean, another man, another joke on me. But you know: everything that is on my plate is there because I said yes to it. I am not a victim of my decisions and I accept the consequences of every action I take, etc etc. We’re all hurt and fucked up and all we can ever do is pass it on, right?

MOCKINGBIRD

I received a text from Adam close to an hour ago, it was a long apology for how he had hurt me. The funny thing is I didn’t have either Adam’s nor Joey’s number stored in my phone so for all of three minutes, I thought it was an apology from Joey, finally. Then I saw the area code and some of the things in the text and realised, hey it’s Adam, the man I still love and from whom I don’t even expect an apology.

We FaceTimed for a while, I showed him Mochi with her little bandaged leg. Arina was holding Mochi up, so she asked me who I was FaceTiming so I said “Adam” — she asked “you’re still together?” and despite every iota of me wanting to say yes we were, I said “no, we’re not.”

We ended the call within half an hour because I think he needs sleep before he spirals even further, but if we had talked for any longer I would have probably said “I love you”: which, given the both of us, doesn’t need to be said, because we both know it’s true, anyway.

I didn’t tell him about Hang the DJ or The Shape of Water, or all the things that had been building up in my head, I just watched him rub his eyes and ruffle his hair and make his cute sounds while covering half his face like he used to do, and I thought, this one’s mine.

OH NO

I woke up feeling a little dehydrated, a little virusy, a little on the... unwell side. But I am not falling sick. Next week I have five days off, and there will be reunion dinner and Lunar New Year goodies and snacks, and I am supposed to enjoy myself and taste food and. I am not falling sick. Body, you hear me? One more week. Just hold on one more week. Please do this for me. We can do this. I will sleep more for now if you want me to. I will eat fruits and vegetables! Antibiotics! All the things!

Oh no.

EVEN MY FEELINGS HAVE FEELINGS

I got home tonight and found that my mum had gotten me the cutest hooded pink parka from esprit, and it was placed in its paper bag on my bed. It is so adorable and I love it and I’m gonna wear it for years. I wore it to my sister’s/grandma’s room and my grandma said in Malay that now I wouldn’t need an umbrella, which was exactly what I thought, too. Apparently it was my youngest sister who thought it was nice, but my mother got it for me instead. (Inb4 you feel too bad for Arina: remember she Did get her desired Fall Out Boy concert tickets.) I cried when I saw the jacket, hahahah, I know it makes me sound like a basketcase but I dunno, it’s tough to navigate things like this with my mum because I mean I know she loves me in her own way, but then I want to do things that she doesn’t approve of, that she thinks is an affront to herself as a person, and then I don’t feel loved again, and erghhhh. It just feels really nice when people do nice things for me unexpectedly.

NICK CAVE & THE SEEDLESS GRAPES

This song is the accompaniment to one of my favourite scenes in a film, when Harry takes Hermione, removes the Horcrux from her, and they dance together in the tent, all with the awareness of Harry’s impending face-off with Voldemort. I also like the song itself for its own imagery. It strikes me as a very happysad song. It’s almost happy, but it’s not, and so close to being sad, yet isn’t quite. There is a tinge of hope, just like when Hermione set down the Horcrux. Or like, even if there is sadness, the oblivion to the sadness is... I dunno, it’s enviable. If you don’t feel sad at a situation that is rightfully sad, then is the situation actually a sad one? Or is it happy because you have no cognizance of it being sad? Am I tired and rambling? The answer to that last question is most definitely a resounding yes.

hey little train, we’re jumping on
the train that goes to the kingdom
we’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun
and the train ain’t even left the station

hey little train, wait for me
I once was blind, but now I see
have you left a seat for me?
is that such a stretch of the imagination?

hey little train, wait for me
was held in chains, but now I’m free
I’m hanging in there, don’t you see
in this process of elimination

This has nothing to do with anything but I just sneezed unexpectedly, a little violently, and spat some spittle onto my phone. My phone is disgusting. In fact, everything I own is quite germy. Hehehehe. How I have a best friend who is a hygiene freak, is beyond me. We are star-crossed best friends.

This has nothing to do with anything, part 2. Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth started playing on Spotify and I just realised it is the sound of putting in a coin and the dialing of an old-school phone? I dunno if I never heard it because my earphones didn’t sound like these headphones, or I just never noticed. Huh.

AEO

I just got a pair of jeans from American Eagle Outfitters ‘cos they were on sale and I dunno where my jeans are (kidding, they are most likely with my sister - Melyssa Novianna Azalea, when I move away you’d best believe I will enjoy full ownership of my clothes).

First of all the counter guy is super cute, which is a pity ‘cos they’re only two stores away but they’re closing down. Secondly, the jeans I just got, they are US size 0. I mean, is it not the most inane thing you’ve ever heard? What do smaller people wear, negative sizes? -2? -6?? This industry is such bullshit, though.

FEBREEZE

I am on my way back to work, in the train. Next week I am working only two days out of seven, because it is Lunar New Year and I took time off to spend with my family and for just resting by myself. I’m three days away from the new week. Three days. At the moment, tired as I am, I am glad that I have Lin-Manuel Miranda’s voice talking on podcasts for me to listen to, that February has been and will continue to be a breeze, that my life is the most fantastic and beautiful mess. I love it. I’m telling you, the truth shall set you free, and in some ways, I am much more free than many people, I think. I say all my truths and I am not held back by conventional barriers.

ALL TOGETHER NOW

I came home last night, or early this morning technically ‘cos we were doing set-up at work, to find that Mochi’s leg was no longer bandaged and everyone else was asleep so I had to wake them up to send her to the vet because her broken leg was limp and dangly and red and infected. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way.

There are certain things I tell myself not to mention, despite having possibly the most flexible and weakest filter known to most of humankind, because I know some things don’t have to be said. This, however, directly clashes with my honesty and owning up to what I feel, because I don’t like to hide anything. Last night, I was reminded of course, of the first time I’d stayed overnight for Christmas set-up, during which time Adam was at Comic-Con and he was nervous about it. In the morning, when I was cabbing home, he sang me a song. I loved him at that point, as I possibly still do now. I miss Adam.

When all is said and done, I will always say and do all the things. Have a great weekend y’all.

FILLERS

One time, back when Khalis was teaching me to drum, he said that although drums are supposed to set the beat for songs, there are just as many tracks in contemporary music that have the songs written and drums added on to complete the sound of it. I first noticed this in OneRepublic’s Good Life and ever since, I’ve never been able to unhear it — the jarring juxtaposition of the completely off-sounding drums that are filling up spaces instead of setting the beat. I don’t know how I can explain this.

Someone should write a modern-day love story, where the protagonist has about six different love interests, and likes each of them for different things and dislikes them for different things as well, and how complicated modern-dating can get, what with social media, and exes returning and reappearing. I want to say this is a modern issue, but then I think of Pride and Prejudice and I think again, perhaps not. Are you going to be my Darcy? Will you get over your hurt pride as I let go of my prejudice? Who am I even addressing? I don’t know, it could be any one of my six love interests. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Jesus. I am both Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy, I’m complicated enough without a man trying to win my affections.

THE COFFEE ACADEMICS

I met Andrea and Vivienne at The Coffee Academics for dinner tonight. The food and coffee were great. You can view more on my Instastories if you're so inclined - otherwise, you may or may not take my word for it. We had pancakes for dessert and they were really good, with cream and berry ice-cream. I had coffee with manuka honey from New Zealand and I enjoyed it. I might be growing up, I'm liking more and more kinds of coffee. Oh jeez no please don't, I want to be a kid forever.

Since I last met her, Viv has gotten exponentially more tattoos. She has a swallow on her right arm, and a mountain on her left, which are her parents' names, Yan and Shan, respectively. I love the two, as I love all her tattoos. Viv has an infinity symbol on her collarbone, and we used to love giving each other things with infinity on them, 'cos we're #soultwins, I had an infinity on my room wall once upon a time. #basic

Andrea also talked about her tatt, down her side, which is slightly more relevant to me. They both go to the same tattoo artist, and apparently they trust him, so... I can take their word for it.

I have two doubts, first about the fallout that will eventually inevitably happen, because you know, my body apparently will never belong to me, but I'm mentally prepared for the fallout. I mean, I had a life inside of me, and got rebuked for that, and still survived, so, in the words of Miley Cyrus, there's always gonna be another mountain, right?

Secondly, the question is always: do I want this or do I want to be in New York City? I've been thinking on this and I figure this is an investment that I've wanted for literal ages, and if I get it, I might as well get it now, instead of spending my precious USD currency in future, right? Yes.

So. Let's go. Skin, ink and bones.

I also had the book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in my bag, 'cos that's my new read (although it is a relatively old book), and I'd always associated the book/movie with Andrea, and of course, she told us, she's wanted to get another, of a dragon clawing its way out of her back. Andrea and Viv talked about Rooney Mara and Noomi Rapace, Emily Blunt and Jessica Chastain, and I listened on passively, because I have much less appreciation of female actresses than I definitely should possess.

For some reason, I told Viv that although I used to be staunchly on the camp of people who say gif as jif, I started being okay with both camps, with either a g or j sound, after Joey. Joey said "it's not peanut butter, it's not jif" so I began saying it as give, like he did. We then proceeded to agree that Joey might be a rocket scientist, but given that he still knocked me up, he can't be all that smart, after all.

Viv said it's a deal breaker, whether I say gif or jif, and then I tried to dissimilate the pronunciation thing from actual deal breakers, like racism or bigotry, but she was having none of it.

We also talked about how Elon Musk is a genius, selling Boring Company caps and flamethrowers for funding, etc. Viv is reading Musk's biography, etc, and says she would so get a Tesla car, but as much as I most definitely admire Elon Musk, I also can't help but think, I dated a man who admired the hell out of Musk, but who wasn't the greatest of men, and Musk himself is not known for being the best husband or relationshippy-person. So: you could be brilliant and still be so lacking. You choose what you want, I suppose.

After dinner, we sat al fresco (chey sit outside Far East Plaza call it al fresco isit tak sedar diri isit yes?) and talked about Black Mirror and all the TV things, and I think I'd had too much sugar, because I was laughing uncontrollably at morbid things like deaths and funerals. May I just say that, I am the type of person who will be set in giggling fits at funerals, and please don't invite me to yours unless yours is the kind that is a celebration of what your life had been, and I am allowed to laugh and giggle until I cry. :')

I have ascertained that Hang The DJ is my favourite Black Mirror episode, and it is a great non-depressing episode, and Adam, if you're reading this, please watch it. You don't have to even talk to me, you can just watch it and feel whatever you feel about it, I think you'd enjoy it! If you're not reading this, whatever, lol, I'm very used to talking to myself.

Hang the DJ reminds me of one of my favourite films, that has a rather eccentric sort of actor as its protagonist. I love that film, although Hang the DJ is undoubtedly more feel-good, and more relevant to these times.

I love meeting up with Andrea and Viv, I hadn't done so for so long, but they are the type of friends that are, how would I put it, low-maintenance, and with immensely high payoff. I don't have to try hard to be anything I'm not, I'm the dirty-minded, exactly in between wild and experienced and timid and clueless girl that I am, admiring them, and enjoying their company and talking about things easily without trying to find anything to talk about. It just flows, and it's funny and entertaining and warm, and I like it.

THEY BEATING US LIKE 808'S AND HI-HATS

One day, this song will be about me. One day. Just you wait. Today's question is: do I prefer the original Hamilton soundtrack or the Hamilton mixtape made after the soundtrack? God only knows.


Today I watched The Shape of Water, which I liked, but not as much as I liked Pan's Labyrinth. Guillermo del Toro does his thing again, and I think it is magical, but just, I dunno, Pan's was better to me.

I remember talking with Adam about our favourite movies, and Pan's is one of his top five (it's also one of my favourite films but not in my top five, I don't think), and he also has top five favourite books, so I asked him whether he had a list of five favourites for everything. A lot about The Shape of Water reminded me of Adam. I don't know if I'll be spoiling it for y'all if I mention any of them, so I shan't, but he should probably watch it. Maybe one of these days I will text him to watch it, maybe I won't.

He posted an Instagram photo of himself being sick, but he's still such a goddamn qtpie, and I bet he knows it, because legitimately, would you post a photo of yourself being sick if you didn't think you looked good? No, you wouldn't. Ergh this man.

I felt good today. I finished The Road Less Travelled, finally, and I think it's now become one of my books to read at least once every year, just to revisit the lessons I've learned from it. Will you all do me a favour and read it, please? If you are readers, that is. But given that you're here on my blog, this goddamn whiny, repetitive thing, I'm sure you're somewhat of a reader. Go give it a read.

February is turning out really well.

AND WE BOTH KNOWALL THE TRUTH I COULD TELL

I found the letter I'd written for my therapist. I read in The Road Less Travelled that mental illness or imbalance is caused by the unconscious and conscious not being aligned. I guess I must say I am much more resentful of Joey than I want to admit. I resent that our mistake was made by two people but only one person had to face the consequences. I hate that I lost a year of my life, fell out with several of my loved ones, felt suicidal at times, let other men confuse me even further.

This is what the letter says:

Joey

Sep 7, 2016 was the last time I saw you, at SpaceX, before I boarded the flight back to Singapore. One year later, I have anxiety and I almost hurled my breakfast. My therapist said that it might help to write letters, even if they are never sent, so here goes. I find it hard, almost impossible, to associate bad traits with you, because you got me pregnant, and I wanted to believe you were as good as it gets, when it comes to having made mistakes. Also, I loved you during my time in the US and my fondness for you lingered so that I still regarded you with rose-tinted glasses, for months, pretty much a year after. However, unless I face the facts and deal with all my suppressed resentment, I will never be able to fully heal. When I told you the news, you said that if I wanted to keep and raise the baby, I had ownership of my body and you trusted me to be a parent to our kid. That was the last nice thing I can remember you saying to me. For the next week or so until my miscarriage, you found it hard to come to terms with my decision, because if you became a father, you'd have to tell your family and friends. #noshitsherlock

When I had the miscarriage, you said you felt sorry for me but you were very relieved. That was the last that you acknowledged my pregnancy/miscarriage. I asked you to foot half my clinic/hospital bills. You said you would but you never did. I told you my parents found out and I was in deep shit, to no response. A week later, on a Friday night and you wanted company, you began sexting me. I don't have any problems with the general concept of sexting, but I'd just gone through the miscarriage of our baby. I was incredulous. You and your friends were planning a trip to Japan for early this year, and I was always supposed to go along with y'all. You said you'd ordered a batch of Plan B's, or the morning-after pill, for me to consume, "just in case". Perhaps avoidance is your way of dealing with things, but in following your lead, I buried a lot of the aftermath of my post-traumatic emotions. Not anymore, though. I am finally on my road to recovery. I loved you for a summer and it lives on forever in my memories, but I don't love you anymore. Goodbye.

Your Sarah for a Summer

Joseph Alexander Hallock, when you do apologise, I want you to think through what you did to me, because you know I still have it all, more than just your words. I want you to believe honestly that I did not deserve everything bad that happened to me last year, and that you are sorry for it and sorry to me, and that what we did was as much your fault as mine. I don't want you to say sorry just because you know unless and until you do, you will never be at peace in your life. I want you to apologise to me, and for me, but unless that happens, don't.

MANSPLAINER OF THE YEAR

So I was at work, and a man saw me working, at my workplace, and he asked me what I was doing, because I was demonstrating a bubble bar, at the place that I work at, and so I explained, and then he said, “do you know that this brand is from the UK? It’s actually a very old brand” and he walked away, so my thoughts were, in this exact ramble: no shit Sherlock I did not know the store I work at originated in the UK, nor the length of its history, please do tell me more, pray tell #chinoncuppedpalm #leanin #unenlightenedasian

Fuck my life, what do you think I am doing at the store if I don’t know about it?!

Also: there are customers who come in with skin concerns and are looking for, say, masks that address those concerns, like maybe they wanna hydrate, right, so you recommend them masks that have all sorts of ingredients that are for hydration, and you go through a few options, but they keep declining, because they don’t “like the smell”, and they decide to get one that smells nicest to them, but doesn’t address their issue at all. When that happens, it takes all my energy not to say “that’s why your skin sucks and mine doesn’t” lol I mean srsly, I was trained for this but no, if you wanna choose something fragrant for your face, why don’t you try.... perfume???!! All views are obviously reflective of my own thoughts and are not indicative of Lush’s stance on anything.

FAUSTIAN PACT

Me, reading up on schools and fees and lodging expenses: why is studying so expensive I just want to improve myself and be a better and more useful person and my parents have never been of any help to me because they believe in “God will provide” jesus christ God if you exist, will you please credit my bank account with the exact amount I need to study please? They said, ask and you shall receive, well you best believe I’m asking

Also me: Sarah you need to stop whining and shut down your laptop and get ready for work God is dead there is no God

ESCAPE THE ORDINARY

Today I was in a changing room and the strap of my camisole had gotten caught on my helix stud (bc: of course) and I wasn’t aware so I just pulled it off and the stud came off and my helix piercing started bleeding again, so I exclaimed “what the fuck are you doing there, get the fuck out dumbass OWWW!!!” which I realised on hindsight might have sounded dubious to anyone else who was none the wiser and heard me. Now I don’t have a stud in and it is crusty and I am going to have to grin and bear the pain if I want it back in, which again sounds like innuendo but is honestly just my shite luck with piercings, goddamn it. I also met one of my good friends for lunch because it was her birthday recently. February has been a breeze: should I brace myself? :/

Anyhow, one of my favourite things to do at work now is posting an InstaStory on the @lushvivocity Instagram account. Nothing makes me happier than knowing my cringeworthy puns are getting more exposure than to just the people in my social circles. If you see a cringeworthy pun, it is highly likely it is me. Also, when will Lush realise I am the perfect person to write copy for product packaging, I was born for the job! Lush UK/North America, I’m looking at you!!!!!!! Also I spotted several typos and misprints, who is doing proofreading for them, srsly! What is this nonsense. My manager used to say I have OCD because I like to arrange things alphabetically but I most definitely do not have OCD, I just like things to make sense and follow a system.

FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF

It is 3.52am and for the second night running, I am still awake and for the second night running, I just had a bowl of spicy chilli-cheese cup noodles and am panting my life’s worth. I was going to shower, then cycle to the laundromat for my week’s load of laundry, but I don’t think my hair will dry in time for me to sleep, not even with the cycling. I don’t use a hair dryer, anyway, which is the reason my hair is actually quite healthy. Ergo, laundry when I wake up later on the Sunday that is my off day. I’ve been awake since 10.30am on Saturday for work so I’ve been awake for about 18 hours and perhaps running on adrenaline and delirium. Being best friends with my sister again is a really comforting feeling. Also, Mochi is lying with me in my bed, she is fast asleep and I wish Adam could see it but regardless, the feeling is a lovely one and it will help me to sleep.

Today for some reason I thought of one of my friends whom I admire greatly and always have. If you have read my blog long enough, it is easy to tell whom it is. He beat up a girl once that she had to be hospitalised and I think he always felt ashamed of it. That happened a long time before I was properly friends with him and despite knowing the story, I never connected it with him because that was no longer the person he was and I never saw that in him, and he definitely learned his lesson. I think he might have carried it around because one time, I was out with him and we saw friends of the girl’s, and he told me they were definitely talking about him and the incident. He is not the only guy I know with such a story, men have the capacity to physically hurt women so much worse than they think they do. But there are always two paths. Some men do it over and over, and they tell the girl(s) that it will never happen again, yet it does, and they never seem to feel guilty about themselves. The latter group does it once, perhaps not so severe, but they are so shocked by what they’ve done, that they carry it around with them, and feel guilty all the time. I have seen both kinds in the course of my life, and I just want to say, if you belong to the latter group, put it down. Talk it out. Don’t shut it out and carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders. Shit happens in life. If you don’t forgive yourself enough to talk about it, nobody will be able to help you. As long as you know for a fact that you’ll never make the same mistake, you’re forgiven. This post is not directed towards anyone in particular, or at least the person I’m talking about is too far removed from me to ever chance upon this. If this hits home with any one of you, rest assured it really is not about you and this thing is far too common to be unique.

SATURYAY

I just got back from Singapore’s only 24-hr shopping mall, Mustafa Centre. It’s one of my favourite places in this country because it is so one-of-a-kind and truly locally-flavoured, unlike the other characterless malls. I was there with my grandma, my mum and sister Mel. I have no clue how it is already 4am but I am again feeling good. February is the best. It is laundry day. I have to sleep. I’m incoherent. The last time I was awake this late/early, I don’t even really remember when. Perhaps I will be more sensible and less delirious when I wake up in the morning. Imma sleep now. :)