Not a Spark of Decency
Sunday, 13 November 2016
The Evolution of The Beauty Bias
Wednesday, 7 September 2016
A Scientifically Crafted Soundtrack to Your (let's be real: My) Next Crying Session
I'm imagining that most of you reading my blog know me on a personal basis, and if you do, you must be knowing my love for crafting scientific playlists that follow the ebb and flow of moods and emotions. Recently, I've been in a lot of anxiety and unexplained sadness, so I've found two go-to songs, that must be listened to one after the other, to cry to.
Friday, 10 June 2016
The Logic Behind Falling in Love With a Stranger
Source: Shutterstock |
What still troubles me, however, is that if we fall in love with our own brainchildren: is it incest, narcissism, pygmalionism?
Monday, 6 June 2016
I Didn't Put A Bra On For Seven Days, and No One Noticed
According to a French study conducted over a period of 15 years, researchers found that "medically, physiologically, (and) anatomically, the breast does not benefit from being deprived of gravity." In fact, they found that there is a restriction of breast tissue growth involving bras, in addition to weakening breast muscles.
This is exactly why I believe bras are an unnecessary evil, so I decided to go an entire week without putting one on.
Day 1: Out to the Beach with My Buddies
If there's something to admit, I've always wanted to wear this outfit without a bra on. My friends know how much I complain about wearing bras, so they weren't surprised at all when I told them about not giving enough of a damn to put one on today. They were actually pretty encouraging about it, and that's when I decided that I'd try and do this for an entire week. Also, my dad made me wear silly bike shorts under this dress. Okay, dad, it might be a little too short, I'll give you that.
Freedom rating: 8/10
Day 2: English Test & Tea Party With My Main Baes
Thursday, 12 May 2016
A Note on Honesty, and a Commemoration to Our Chemical Comradeship
In this blog post, I'd like to address the repercussions of running away from the inevitable complexities you face in life, and the peril of forgoing intricate reflection. This is one of my natural tendencies; I'm a master procrastinator, and I avoid clearing my inquiries (especially in math class, dear god). However, recently I've come to realise how blinded this makes you . . .
Similar to how cells burst due to osmosis (forgive my IB-ridden thought process), there was an event in which I found my breaking point (it was much like how they describe finding a G-spot; a magnificent revelation). I additionally realised that there are times wherein you can't make sense of your own behaviour (and it may even seem like an overreaction to yourself), but it is valid and it will always be valid. Probably, you'd deem yourself a twat for thinking/feeling these anxieties and seek approval from your friends; twisting stories to make yourself seem like the victim; or invoking sympathy/empathy by injecting emotion to your narration.
The point here is that it doesn't matter how much you try to make yourself seem sane for feeling feelings, for you do not lose the right to feel your feelings, you feel? Nobody's encounters, testimonies, or opinions bear any substance in validating your needs and feelings. I should let ya'll know that when I say 'you,' I'm actually trying to teach myself and you these lessons (mostly myself).
With this post, though, I'm eulogising our comradeship and reclaiming my anxieties as marks of experience and understanding. It was an enthralling journey, but just as roller coasters do, rides must end, and often with a nostalgic satisfaction.
Sunday, 24 April 2016
The Things to Blog About
*said close friends Paxia and Rasagnya |
"If I’d have lived my life once again, I’d stop worrying about the future, and I’d live more in the present. You see, work is only a means to earning a living, but the passions that don’t translate into money are the things that you value in your life. My passion has always been writing, and I struggle very hard to revive the time for it. There are only twenty four hours in a day - you’re not going to have more than that. So, wisdom lies in devoting some part in those twenty four hours everyday to something that you’re really passionate about."
All of a sudden, I felt a certain pressure to document my life as of now. People keep telling me how this is going to be the highlight of my life, but in all honesty I didn't think I had anything significant enough to remember. Until now.
Side note: we graduated high school! |
As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, I got quite mad at natural selection working its way into our daily activities. What sort of emotions are biologically ingrained in me that I innately turn someone else's happiness into an almost-need to watch them suffer? Why is no one else allowed to be happy but me? Why do I have such a sadistic attitude? Do people feel the same way about my happiness?
This is what I'm talking about, and while we're on the subject, I should share some thoughts from mom while we were having a chat over masala chai. We talked about the different dynamics between our generations; she said hers was tight in the sense that they didn't have money nor freedom, that they listened to both their parents and their children. She raved about the opportunities our generation have, and how theirs never dreamt of leaving their countries for jobs or a foreign education. Heck, women weren't even allowed to work. Granted, we do have a lot of opportunities, but at that moment I began to rue the distinct happiness that is forgone; the carefree sense of living specially reserved for one's Salad Days. I felt such contempt towards what was in lieu of this sense of living today: the premature air of heavy stress (as I'm not sure if I'm at the liberty to use the word anxiety).
I can jabber on about the loss of my time, about the overpopulation, and the self depreciation, but with this blog post I am determined to be a source of positivity. I do hope to form more codependent relationships that are just as unique as the people I share them with. To the best of my ability, I intend on making them feel as 'them' as they will ever be.
As Mr Ashish says,
In spite of all the chaos and the violence, there is still hope for all of us.
PS - I've set a long term goal to consistently journal in hopes of making a book of it one day.
Saturday, 16 April 2016
Friend Lust
In the midst of a conversation your eyes drift off to the other edge of the room, and you see a girl laughing. It's as if you're looking at someone you've known your whole life. You know everything about this person; their usual hangout spot, the shade of lipstick they always wear, the kind of cigarettes they smoke and why, the movie they watch over and over again but never get bored of, their favourite ice cream flavour, the only breakfast food they know how to cook - everything.
But you don't approach them. They will never want to speak to a low-life like you. Or maybe they will. Maybe, just maybe, they'd make chit-chat about the weather with you, fake a smile at you, and one-arm hug you. You know you could be more than that, because you know this person. In and out. So you try your luck. You're two steps away from this person but no air resonates through your voice-box.
And you realise that you've no idea who this person is; that your silly mind has made up a projection of what you want this person to be. And if you're lucky, you'd realise this before you douse yourself in this friend-lust for too long, before you gather the strength to coax this person into being friends with you and you realise that this is a lie.
Sunday, 10 April 2016
The Ideal Sunday
Knowing me, the hours of the day shift by about +3 on Sundays; I do about everything 3 hours late. I play jazz music as I walk to my kitchen. After ditching the aesthetically-pleasing but gustatorily revolting traditional breakfast and making myself either Belgian waffles topped with white chocolate, brown sugar, and cinnamon or a chorizo-mozzarella toasty with dashes of balsamic glaze, I retire to my bedroom to binge watch TV episodes of whatever I happen to be engrossed into at the time.
The day goes by smoothly, I eventually take a refreshing cold shower (spoiling myself with the bath products I can't stop purchasing), and by the time it's afternoon (adjusted to +3 timing; evening), I head out to meet a friend for coffee. We talk for hours - giggling about ridiculous incidents that happened over the week. By this time, a bunch of other friends join us as we grab a bite, walking around the green-and-gray city and stopping by shops to buy clothes or groceries on the way.
The day ends with a movie. Either it's me watching it on my own at home, or with my friends at the local cinema. It's one of those films I just can't miss; be it from scratching one off my
list or catching the latest blockbuster. I conclude the day with reflecting and writing in my journal - I collect the thoughts that swirled around in my mind, and end with a note of positivity and gratitude.
And then I swear as I realise that tomorrow's Monday.
Sunday, 11 May 2014
burn baby, burn.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
Bubble Tea, Anyone?
Wednesday, 30 April 2014
How I Lost My Pain - A Supernatural Tragedy told as Madison Motgomery
it was the commencement of the skeptics' search that drew me into the coven - the witches' circle. no one from the outside world knew we were what we were. we held a bond close to blood, we were sisters who sought to protect each other from the heretics with our small myriad of powers: telekinesis, divination, pyrokinesis, concillium, transmutation, descensum, and vitalum vitalis. only the supreme could perform seven of them, and the supreme i was going to be because i could feel it. they say that a new supreme is known when she has radiant health, which i can feel rushing through my veins as Fiona Goode - the current supreme - gets weaker and weaker. we grew friendly progressively as she saw a reflection of her perseverance and severe distaste for bourgeois people with a lack of ambition in me.
succeeding into a series of empowering women, i knew i wasn't deserving of the title of supreme; and so did Fiona. on the eve of the night of the Sacred Test for the Seven Wonders, she drew me into her cloud of portraits of previous supremes. she unravelled the story of her and her preceding supreme, how she slit her throat to obtain the Sacred Power. i knew it was my turn. it was my duty to take on the role and lead the coven into my glorious reign of elegantly intimidating witches. before i knew it, she did the same thing she did to Anna Leigh - to me. my blood was cascading through the rims of the rug and into the polished wooden panelling. my vision blurred, my skull weary. i don't remember anything further than that.
it wasn't until i was resurged by one of my sister witches that i was impaled by the groggy sensation tap-dancing over me, the gruesome, sandy taste, and the pungent smell of apparent death. i was still in pruney condition, though i managed to keep up with the day-to-day activities; then did it come to me, like a sudden storm surge, that i had lost something i once had. food tasted bland, cold showers weren't as refreshing, time went by particularly slowly, and boys didn't excite me much. i could stick my tongue into the throat of one and not feel a thing. i had lost my ability to feel.
so here i am, still trying to burn a hole through my hand. i probably have a third-degree burn now, but what's the point if you can't feel? i've just eaten everything in my pantry, yet i can't seem to be full. i have no thoughts, no ambitions anymore. i had always thought pain was the worst thing anyone could ever feel; the guilt-ridden, mind-eating type. i was wrong. it's the absence of pain.
Sunday, 27 April 2014
the human being a balance of apprehension and self-help
aside from the organs working in an assembled unison, we accentuate on the organs we hold less of an importance of; be it our tonsils or appendices or even our sexual organs. i would like to emphasise the intensity of using sexual organs as a term itself.
it is not uncommon to be fearful or shameful about the 'parts' we all posses, for what reason, however? who taught us to hide half the fate of the continuum of our very own species away?
say we bring up beliefs and mythology. in an aspect, we could say that our ultimate goal in all our reincarnations is to pick up a little something from each life, apply it to the next, and go on to the point of being inert - want free. on the other hand, we can all agree that each religion has messengers, or those who are free enough from their worldly problems to block out the noise and stay in touch with god.
how many of you are skeptics? let me just say that i too question each and every thing before it occurs to be in the clearest way possible. i began reasoning with how these people know that they are calm enough to be able to rid themselves of what is human nature - problems. problems are a part of learning - and how will the people of god link us to him and help us, when they can't even help themselves? does god help them directly, or can they not hear him due to the persistent voice of the pessimistic part of the mind?
this is where i come to. apprehension and pessimism. we all have it; even the optimists who like to shove how good their lives are in our faces, and our lives need not even be in a plummeting shape to feel such affliction. over the years, i've noticed that it is not only me who feels an extensive awkwardness that is a sort of sensation that there is a conspiracy flying against you whenever the degree of satisfaction in your life is very much above average for a long period of time. let me cut that down, how many of you have ever felt that something bad is going to happen because life's just so damn good?
i do. everyone does, or at least the majority of people. the purpose of my statement is that our realist minds move close to pessimism, but we as humans are designed to clear that. remember when i talked about the divine design of the human body? yes, how is it that not many have realised that there is an organ we speak of in hushed tones that is created purely for pleasure. and of course, making babies, but that's a whole other topic.
in this way we see that we, as humans, can deplete our own tensions (if you know what i mean) because pleasure was hand-delivered to us by our creator.
now, why would the 'people of god' or inerts keep this hushed? why do they reprimand a god-given gift to us by saying it is a sin? are they defying god? how dare they? why would they keep the secret to being inert (or balancing out the human nature to encounter problems by using biological pleasure) to themselves when they are supposed to be of help? how do they know they are qualified to do this?
so, is sex really a sin?
Saturday, 8 February 2014
The Simulation of Apocalypse.
The celebrations commenced, but none of us would know our future shortcomings. Not even the clairvoyants.
It was a strange roadtrip to the wedding of our friends, there was an apprehension in the air as the love of my life placed his arms around me. I think I squeezed his chest a little too hard, but he was warm and I was cold. I was always cold, and I frequently debated if I was really endothermic.
There were mice in our car, in a cage. They didn't really like us, but they were part of the wedding, and they didn't even seem the slightest bit weird at the time. At least, I was with him. He meant the world to me.
As we partied all night, and were on our way back to our hotel rooms - it happened. I don't think anyone else realised it but me. The world was ending, and ending, and ending. Again and again and again, on a loop. But it ended differently each time.
It was as if I was paralyzed, but I could see everything. It was the clairvoyants who conveyed the message that this world was over and done with. To be specific, his name was Kevin. He froze all of us, and told his community that we have died, except for the telekinetics or higher powers. I began to wonder why I could hear that.
"You're a telekinetic," he said.
But I couldn't reply.
"Wanna watch me ruin the world?"
He pushed the room we were in to the ground (to be fair, we were already on the ground. He pushed us further down the crust of the planet, like there was an elevator shaft and we were going down.) My brain was melting.
He moved everything back to normal, with the simple control of his mind, like he was guilty. We thawed, as if nothing happened.
The second time he threw the world out the window was with a special gun. We froze again, of course, but this time I covered my face with my dress. Despite knowing I did so, I could still see. Shit.
He shot the people with his silent gun, and when it was my turn, he simply skipped me. He couldn't shoot me, probably because I was telekinetic. This time though, I could speak, just by thinking. Why didn't I realize that before?
"Why aren't you shooting me?"
"I did, you were immune to it."
"Does this mean I have to watch you undo all of this and watch the apocalypse again?"
"Yes, your gift wasn't used when you were alive, so here you are."
"Where, where am I?"
"Limbo."
I lied through it continuously; as he drove the world to the sun, imploded our species, and caused us to stab ourselves impulsively.
Of course, I didn't feel a thing. Except for despair.