Open houses

I don’t choose the media & mass communications life. It chose me. It has been my dream to pursue such a major and also as a career but due to poor grades, strict admission rules and pricey fees I had to bury it. Ten years later to the present day I’m contemplating to pursue a tertiary diploma in mass communications on a part time basis. 

This is what happens when you barred me from pursuing my dreams. Because of you I had to take up courses that I hardly have any interest in and wound up job-hopping and depressed over my predicament. Just because my high school math and science grades suck with an F doesn’t mean I can’t have a bright future. You had no idea how much I suffered. How much I cried and screamed in pain over your pathetic admissions exercises years after my graduation. You doubters and critics are my worst enemies. Ever. 

Ten years after my failed attempts for a tertiary education in polytechnics and universities (more to that later in future), I am planning to study again, maybe within 2 years or less on a part time basis. Visited some institutions and browsed through their brochures. Three schools to choose from yet can’t narrow to just one. Unsure if my mom is OK with me studying again just to obtain a diploma for now. I rather be the first in my family to further my studies to university and maybe graduate with honors. That will be something to talk about in retrospect. Better late than never, in three years’ time I’ll be 30. Adult learning is hard but I want to commit till the end. 



Seriously I don’t understand some people. You already got yourself a college degree, engaged or married to your trophy husband and living a life better than mine. So why the need to destroy me still exists, ten years after our high school graduation? I never had any cruel intentions towards you. But don’t be shocked at my cold-hard expressions and gangly swag. I may not even possess half the education and lover you have but thanks to your cruelty I’m mentally resilient and tougher to deal with bitches like you the only way I know best. You can hide behind your man or your hijab but you can’t hide your nefarious attempts to piss and humiliate me. This isn’t 2004-2006 anymore. It’ll be 2017 now. I’m not Islamophobic (I’m a Muslim too albeit moderate). Even some so-called angels desire to be wild when caged while wrongly-accused demons long for redemption and solace.


I’m gonna be my own MVP. 

I intend to pamper myself with trips to hair salons, beauty spas and massage parlors. Only 26 yet I received feedback that I’ve physically aged a lot. Looking out of shape, frizzy static hair and saggy jaws and chin, I was told I looked like a 30-something mom with 2-3 kids. I gotta change that, and maybe get active in fitness and gym as well.

Some things are best left unpursued. With too much activities to cram in one tight time frame, time management is of essence. Maybe it’s not just me all the time fighting to keep up. I guess I’ll just drop the Christmas dance performance off my priorities list, along with that guitar-playing neighbor.

Turns out that he is 8 years older than me and is questionably divorced. He’s creeping me out. I don’t think I can be friends with him. He doesn’t work at all (how much money can you make daily by simply playing guitar and singing in the streets?), he badly wants me to teach him to read Al-Quran (not only I lack confidence in teaching but also due to stricter laws these days, an Islamic scholar has to be registered by the local Islamic board to teach and preach) and asked me which one is my mom. The last one got me freaked out. Why would some random stranger asked me for my mom? 
Could he be a stalker? I believe so. It makes me sick that street buskers in my neighborhood are suddenly warming up to me. Maybe I should just be firm and move forward, never making eye contact nor even look back at them. Doing so gives them leverage. Men nowadays are lazy and unreliable, especially the able-bodied ones. I’m my own Wonder Woman for way too long by myself, relying on no man. 


Singapore is just way too overcrowded with foreigners. Can’t even go out on Sundays without braving the vast ocean of domestic workers from Asian Third-World countries (largely fron Mainland China, India, Indonesia, Myanmar [Burma], Vietnam, the Philippines, Bangladesh) acting like this island belongs to them. Even some white people from Australia, New Zealand, UK, Europe and North America (Canada and US) are just as snobbish and at times bigoted. I’m not xenophobic, I’m just tired of the immigration policies initiated by the government to squeeze millions of immigrants to this little island. Plenty of these immigrants have no intention to remain Permanent Residents or Singapore Citizens for the long term. And to those PRs and newly minted Citizens acting all ‘kiasu’ (Hokkien term meaning scared to lose) and claiming to be ‘more Singaporean than the actual locally born-and-bred ones’, WHO THE BLOODY FUCK YOU DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO PROCLAIM YOURSELF AS SUCH?! You and your ancestors hadn’t been around this island for centuries to come up with such sentiment. You only decided to make Singapore your home when our economy was booming. Now we’re stuck in stagnation due to your influx taking up our jobs and schools and universities. 

Don’t tell me to suck it up. You just aren’t here your whole life to feel how we actually feel. We are just sick of your kind abusing the current government’s policies to suit your selfish agendas.


I’m not some larger-than-life entity nor do I regard myself as one. 

I’m simply loud by nature, but years of being silent in penance of my misunderstood deeds, and also being told off to shut up has caused not only deep-setting unhappiness, it makes me want to scream even louder to prove my point straight without sugarcoating or sarcasms. I’m as real as I can be, given any unfavorable situation I’m in where the tides are against me. And I guess people are afraid of me to the point that some seek to vilify me and everything that I stand for. 

It’s just within me to keep things real in perspective. Often I got misconstrued for being a pessimist or too emotionally fragile and not cheerful or outgoing enough. I’m just seeing life as a whole. I never feel comfortable with fakery, be they passive or not. My honest replies may come across as rigid, cold and harsh, but I’m never the kind to kiss asses or have a sarcastic tongue to be cool and to fit in. Maybe it’s my upbringing and social surroundings that shape me into the person I am. I didn’t ask to be this way. 

I hate to be angry. For real. In fact it brings me to tears when the dust has settled in. I just want to be understood and loved even through good and bad times. I guess society as a whole do not understand rage and sadness well. We women especially are constantly putting other women down with insults. You fail, you get mobbed with criticism. You succeed with your hard work and dedication, they’re out there to hurt you. What have we become as humans?  What do we really want in others? By tearing them to make ourselves feel better, are we really no different from the ones that we envy or strived to stay away from?


My biggest enemy this year? Procrastination. I’ve grown too comfy over my shitty situation of being stuck in job I continually hate that even job hunting feels like a chore. I even forgot how to search and prepare myself to hunt again. When will the economy ever fully recover? It’s in the slumps for the past 2-3 decades. All no thanks to some selfish baby boomers with their rigid mindsets on money and hard work and then blaming all socio-economical problems on us millenials for being too soft and lacking motivation. At least we millenials try to make this world an inclusive place for everyone, including minorities, Muslims, people with special needs and LGBTQ community. 

Retail therapy

Retail therapy never felt so good. 

My urge to buy new makeup reawakened a few days ago, be it drugstore, at Sephora, at flea markets or even online. Same goes with new clothes. A lot of my clothes no longer fit me especially the bottoms (trousers/pants/jeans and skirts). My fashion taste is kind of eclectic, casual and sharp, straying away from conventional, current, Instagram-worthy trends and fiercely staying true to myself. 
Weekends never seem enough for me. My job hunt so far is like waiting for a rain in a barren desert. Another job agency called me this past Thursday, offering me a helpdesk position in a healthcare setting. Okay, now where’s my resume and photocopies of my academical achievements? The stipulated 45 days’ notice of tendering resignation is a deal breaker. Such notice imprisons me, there’s likely a chance that the interested employers may end up not hiring me upon hearing that.


My attempt to job hunt this week backfired on me. This past Tuesday, I received a call from a company looking for a help desk position. Unfortunately I was in a noisy, moving bus on my commute to work when the call took place, thus the voice on the other end was inaudible. I told her to call again but they didn’t. 

Once I alighted from the bus, I dialed the same number. To my dismay they replied with “Can we call you back later?”. Hearing this, tension mounted within me. I responded: “Well I just got down from the bus already, may I know who you are and what are you trying to offer me during our first call?” The answer was a weak, mumbling one. “Help desk” or something like that. I had had enough. I hung up. And there goes my first try in job hunting for the first time in two years.

My frequent saliva-spitting has recently returned after days of completing the earlier medication. But this time, there’s a slightly swollen lump growing in my throat where my chin is, painful when touched. Only discovered it two days ago after lunch. No pain while eating, talking or drinking. Went to the doctor to find out more, and they suspected that there may be a stone or some stones growing on my salivary glands, hence the swelling lump. I have to be refered to an ENT (ear, nose and throat) specialist for an appointment and treatment (to be announced by the hospital at a later date). Cancerous or benign the lump is, I’m not taking any chances and I better not end up with a huge mass of a tumor growing on my face, along with other health issues. And it’s even anguishing that my team leader dismissed my lump as a normal itchy patch. 

Great, more hurdles. Adding more stress to my work and my life in a nutshell. These frequent episodes of me getting illnesses I never encountered before as of late got me upset over my predicament and KPI and everything else in life. On top of the fact that I’m now the only top-earning family member left and my useless elder brother doesn’t even bother looking for a new job. He would rather laze at home or go to the gym at this bleak economic time. Get real. What’s the point of being a fitspo when you’re broke and jobless? As superficial as it sounds, money still talks. No money, no gain. 

Tell me how can I not be pissed off about the bullshit that’s happening to me? I can’t help blaming myself, it’s as though I allow all this crap to happen to me even if I’m not the one who perpetrated it.

Slimming down

Looking through my recent photos, I feel that there’s a tremendous need to slim down. I really let myself balloon up to a fugly, bloated state. No matter how much most people try to convince me I look beautiful inside out despite my weight gain, the internal voice within tells me it’s not. Even I do admit I’m ashamed of my fattened image. Clothes no longer fit, get tired and vulnerable to health issues really easily, snoring way too loud in my sleep (I have never snored at all until 3 years ago).. The list goes on. This pudgy look is embarrassing, coming from someone who’s not even married with kids. Embarrassing to the point my self-esteem and outlook on life hits rock-bottom, preferring to hide in the shadows and live like a hermit instead.