Category: Uncategorized
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ma~da
Wow so I have not written a single proper, this-is-my-life-now post for more than a month.
Here is my life now: busy, but good.
I don’t feel very in touch with school this semester – probably a post-exchange syndrome – and I’m expecting first class honors to slip out of my grasp by the end of this term. But I’m okay with that.
This period of time has been more about what I’m doing beyond NUS. It’s a quarter of a year of my life, not just “a semester” contextualized by school.
So it has been lots of friends, new projects (!!!), side work, meeting people new&old. And lots of prime time with my SP3 making plans for the future.
A future that has just had its windows blown wide open, because… well yeah:
About being single again, it has been exciting. Finding myself outside the context of a relationship… the freedom can get overwhelming at times, but so far I am quite enjoying being overwhelmed by everyone and everything.
xo
lots of positive vibes.
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JC Tuition
Hi, I am offering JC1-2 tuition for General Paper, Literature, and History.Am a formal Hwachong JC student with GCE A Level As in the following subjects. Please contact me at wqingtan@gmail.com if interested!Taken ^^
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Tiny Tits and Indignity
Went to get a bra yesterday at Pierre Cardin, only to face the indignity of being told they don’t come in my size – because i’m too small.
“Oh this brand seldom stocks anything smaller than B70… most places don’t.”
For most of my life I’ve worn bras slightly too large – or when I discovered online shopping – ordered them online (usually at a higher price). No, I refuse to buy from Young Hearts because i demand my right to sensible bras with underwire. What I don’t understand is
1) Why am I paying more for less material?
2) I’m pretty sure there are girls in Singapore with my cup size, so why the total lack of supply for it?I’m an A70, because i’m an Asian and will not cease until i get all my As. Also it means i’m more susceptible to lower boob fats. The market exists, Singapore! Where are my fitting bras? I’m fully aware that my breasts are on the miniature end of the bell curve, but does that mean i’m not entitled to support like everyone else? They are tiny but they are here you know! The indignity.
On a more serious note though, there is the problem of girls buying misfitting bras and passing them off as okay. At an age where they’re still growing (and they grow all the way up to 21, for some), this can be stunted or misshapen growth.
When i first got my proper adult A70 bra, i never knew how much i’d been missing on. It was like a “OHHH so that’s what a bra’s supposed to feel like” moment. It doesn’t just provide the right support, but makes them bigger (i’m talking non pushed ups here) because they are built for your precious As.
Singapore needs to stop this tiny tit discrimination and step up with bras for everyone.
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Meander
There is something about me today and panicking about lost / found memories.
In the showers I was struck with regret at my lack of detailed everyday recounting. It’s too late to pen down fresh, happy happenings. In less than a month, J leaves for the US. Life will be so, so much different to the past few years. If only I had more records of our time together, the small things, the ones that really matter.
But then again, really, what would I have written? “Today, we lay in bed talking about life and everything else.” For an accurate recapture of what we did, how I felt, how precious the moment is to me, it’ll take more effortful musing. Just not practical as a daily exercise I guess.
I wish there was some way to record all our conversations together. There are probably hours amassed. I’m not sure if other couples talk as much as we do. Evidently we’re both people who love to yammer on about practically anything, online and offline. There is nothing we leave unpicked I guess, from cultural and moral debates to abstract discussions of art to idle gossip and lengthy explorations of games and shows and anime. Basically everything.
This is something I’ll miss very, very, very much. There is something about being face to face with someone, with nowhere to go and nothing urgent to pursue, just wringing ourselves dry of opinions and thoughts and musings and revelations. I leave every conversation with insights both from myself and J. Anyway.
Yeah my point being, I feel urged to start a more detailed diary of the mundane everyday, and at the same time feel the ache of being too late. Also, the lack of a suitable platform.
I’d say the closest to the kind of functionality I desire is Dayre. But the thing about Dayre is that it sets out to be a social media platform than a tool. There are no password locks, privatising, anonymous follows. Currently I’m keeping one as my Dream Journal, and so far it has very neatly fulfilled its duty haha. Love going back to read my nonsense dreams.
But yeah, something close to Dayre’s layout and features, but with more anonymity? Anyone has a recommendation?
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Hey
Just went on a massive privatising spree, fueled by paranoia. The truth is that not that many people read my blog. Still, the sense of shame that has developed late, but nonetheless arrived, gave me a mini panic attack.
Partly motivating this is a little episode one night at Vanessa’s place, hanging out with the girls. We trawled through her blog archives (all the way to primary 5!!!) and it was goodtimesfuntimes for us all. Stomach-cramping laughter at the expense of her past vapidity.
It’s alright confined within our circle (NOPE, NOT SHARING HER URL), but ugh the thought of anyone else – especially in the professional arena – chancing upon our lame kid selves is horrifying.
Plus, like i’ve lamented a million times, i feel so constrained by knowledge of how public and permanent blogs can be. :-( So many times i’ve stopped short of posting something more private. Anyway, I’ll never give this place up. Probably will break a record for longest blogging streak ever, at least locally. It’s been almost a decade!
Reminder to self: Take more photos when out for keepsake, update this place more often, no matter how mundane or lame. Lame then lame lor, i’m lame what. Ok bye!
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Fifties
They lay elbow to elbow.
“What should we do?”
Outside the clouds groan and bruised a deep purple.
She drew out a skipping rope thick with un-use.
“Here.”
For awhile they stare into a dizzying vastness of possibilities.
“But there’s only two of us.”
“Oh.”
Both turned away hiding relief.
Q 