Burnt the midnight oil

Or rather, burnt my health away.

I’m not particularly a health conscious person but I do tend to avoid messing with my body’s “natural equilibrium”. I do take supplements from time to time when I know my body is deficient from certain vitamins.

If I’m socialising and detect smelly breath, I tend to speculate that that person went to bed late. Why? Our liver wasn’t rested properly, hence the bad breath. I read this from browsing the internet. Of course some things from the internet can’t be trusted. But I’ve come across this occurrence many times and I can say that it’s true!

Anyway, I wasn’t gonna blog about health. I was gonna write about how I busy I was these couple of days that I haven’t slept for 37 hours and it was excruciating.

I can probably imagine some readers scoffing and thinking that 37 hours is nothing compare to the hours they’ve worked. Sorry to say, but I’m not here to compare. So, #bitchplease

I’ve had 10 hours of sleep and now back  in the office but still physically tired (and aching?).

I miss my bed.

And I haven’t touched my calligraphy supplies while I’ve been busy with work. I miss it but I still don’t have the energy to do any of it. The spirit is strong but my energy is still depleted.

Advertisements

Self-sufficient

wp-image-1009735368

I have many shortcomings ever since I was young. Maybe it was an idea that was planted in my mind. I was the youngest among my siblings, at least 6 years apart. Whenever my dad asks me something, I’d say “I don’t know“. I didn’t say it to spite him; it was really because I didn’t know the answer to the question he asked. I was young, and lacked self-confidence. Or rather, I didn’t learn how to be or knew what it was. I was labeled as a shy person because I didn’t dared ask questions or give answers they needed to know.

Because of that, I developed a need for independence. I was afraid of asking questions, so I search for answers myself. I depended on my own abilities to seek out explanations and justifications, enough for me to complete certain tasks or whatever my random mind conjures.

The people I’m friends with or work for may misunderstand this as ‘smart‘ or ‘bright‘. But really, it’s all just a way to cover up my weakness.

Another way I do is I unconsciously surround myself with friends that are certainly not afraid to speak out their minds. They’re loud, charismatic, smart, and most importantly, funny as hell.

If I was a knight, my girl friends would symbolise my sword. They are the strongest beings I have ever met; both physically and mentally. They don’t need a man to rely on for strength. They are self-sufficient. And they protect me in ways, many I probably didn’t know they have.

Because of my shortcomings, I developed a ‘formula’ or a standard to live. I can’t always need someone else to help me if I need one. I can’t always expect that they will always be there for me. Above all, I can’t let my past experience doubt my actual abilities.

Also, because of this, I simply cannot accept it when others need help without trying it on their own. Where’s your strength? Where’s your independence? Where’s your confidence?

I’m not saying asking for help is shameful and wrong. I’m asking whether you acknowledge your abilities before giving up or not?

So many hobbies, so little time

My mind have been so full of ideas lately. I don’t know if it’s a good thing. Recently, I met one of Tim’s colleague, Rozy and she’s crazy about cross stitching! Check out here instagram here and tell me you think her work is amazing too?!?!?! She’s currently trying to design her own patterns. I truly have no idea how does she have so much time to stitch, not one but MANY designs. My love for cross stitching rekindled when I saw her pictures. I used to be crazy about it too until I didn’t have time to do it anymore and grew another interest. You can see my stitches herehere and here.

And if you read my previous posts, I’ve been investing my time on watercolour painting lately. I used to hate it because I wasn’t very good at it. But now I’m seeing improvements so I’m enjoying it a little bit more.

I joined a copperplate calligraphy class 6 months ago from Salt x Paper and it is the most mind-blowing and liberating type of art. It was a live in the past while in the future kind of art.

Naturally, brush lettering came next after tasting the delicate art of cursive writing. This one took me a while to understand and practice because the soft tip was all too foreign to me especially for writing.

Bullet journaling is next on my things-to-do list too but I figured that I would have nothing to write or plan because honestly, my day job plus my daily life is a routine. There’s nothing to be reminded of, no appointments that need me present, no notes to copy. I have a book where I used to bujo but the only table or entry I drew each month was the habit tracker and my mood tracker. It was a huge waste to stop using that book because there were so many pages. So now I use it as a medium for my brain dump or quotes I like from a book/magazine, random doodles, notes or lists. It works for me because I’m not obliged to fill in my schedule everyday unlike the fixed calendar layout that draws out the entire day of the month. One of my pet peeve is leaving an area of a page that is supposed to be filled or blank pages.

And I love writing too! That’s why this blog exists. Of course I can just write an entry in my physical diary or type it into a Word document. But writing and uploading it into the web is great for edifying purposes and sharing of knowledge and interests and I enjoy that.

I love being active and being outdoors from time to time. And sometimes just staying home accompanied by a good book (So many books have been neglected). The problem is, I have 6 types of other hobbies listed above. How much time do I have left for other activities? I want to do them all!

When I’m working, I wished I had time for my hobbies. But when I’m free, I do nothing but scroll through instagram and pinterest or watch TV series I downloaded.

Which makes me wonder if my hobbies were my job, would I yearn for something else?

Do any of you experience this? Please advise me what I should do!

21/6/2017

wp-image-1669040346.

The chair has nothing to do with what’s written in the next page.

And to those that may have noticed, yes. The sketch is the chair from IKEA.

I write down quotes or phrases that I like in this book. In this particular entry, I was reading an article from a magazine reviewing about a book. The star below the phrase is the title of the book that is added to my wishlist.

On what happens after you jump off cliffs and other scary things

….you die.

I can’t recall was it The Last Song or The Vampires Diaries that said: eulogies aren’t for the dead to hear; they’re for comforting the living.

No matter how much pain you think or you’re truly in, there’s no greater pain than losing a person in your life that was supposed to be with you forever. If you love them, you wouldn’t harm yourself. Because the person you’re actually killing isn’t you; it’s them.

The blog I reposted had nothing to do with death but I was just reminded or prompted to write what I wrote because of her blog title.

Hudhurungi

I did a scary thing, a bold thing. But this piece is not about taking the plunge, it’s not about gathering the guts to leave your comfort zone, it is about what you experience and feel immediately after leaving your comfort zone.

I still experience bouts of fear, I still feel jittery and daunted.

This is for my fellow cliff jumpers, are you afraid too, even after the jump? Is it a bit like jumping off a cliff into the ocean and being submerged under the waves? You know that you will come up and swim, eventually, but for now the force of your jump has you under the rolling waves.

Well this is me, this is me saying that I am still scared, and if you are too, blink twice. We are learning together, are we not?

I am still daunted, still trembling in hope and fear, still learning…

View original post 187 more words

Muscle Memory

I initially didn’t plan to write today because I’ve been writing so much I fear that I’ll use up all the ideas I have to blog. But here I am, writing about nothing in particular (or do I?). I came across a blog post: What To Do When You Want to Write But Don’t Know What to Write and followed the writer’s advice. As usual my day is going by (still working) like an unchanging season. I don’t even know what season is since my country has only one season – perpetual summer with the occasional spring feel.

I was writing (actual writing, like on paper) and realised that my words are of a certain size. Everyone have their own special handwriting of different curves, size, squiggles whether it’s messy or neat but never exceeding a certain height. We’re so accustomed to writing on lined paper, governed by its fence that if we try writing beyond it, it doesn’t turn out nice because it’s unnatural. Our wrist have no muscle memory of that.