OMW

Recently I've met a few people that have told me that they've been keeping up with this space and my... rambles. It's always heartwarming to know people actually bother to check up on this dying space and my crappy attempt at trying to be coherent with my shit. Thanks guys, y'all the real MVPs. 

I'm trying to keep this space solely for things that keep my motivated, inspired and life lessons, you know, that kind of stuff. But honestly, I've been in a rut. 

It's been a long time since I've been motivated to write something interesting and lively because all I've been typing down into my other (more private and full of emotional shit) dumping-ground-blog is, emotional shit. Sad emotional shit. 

There's no point sharing sad stuff twice on two platforms right? That's just multiplying the sadness, which is completely unnecessary.  

The good thing is, I've decided to get my shit together! I'm using the word "shit" more than I actually should but my vocabulary is limited. I'm sorry. 

I've been trying to work on some things for this blog and putting together videos to actually make this space a bit more aesthetically pleasing because right now it's just flooded with words words words and MORE WORDS. I get tired of reading sentences too, so I thought perhaps some videos/photos in the next few posts would help. 

Thanks for sticking it out with my y'all. It's been a rough semester, lol just like any other semester.... and I'm also in the midst of trying to make adult-like decisions like where the hell do I go after graduating, that kind of life decisions... agh. 

2k16 is a little rough right now, but I'm hanging in there!! Be right back with some more interesting, colourful posts guys. I've been too much of a dull person the past couple of months. 

An Attempt At Structuring Things

BODY.

1. 

When they called me regarding the PO, my excitement only lasted for a short while and to be honest, to be very honest, if I were to see myself heading back there for work, I'd dread it almost every day. But I'm glad they called. Because this is exactly what I wanted the day I signed myself up for this internship. My efforts weren't put to waste, so this is what I wanted. I should be content. I am, I am, I am. I am enough. 

Tonight I am so overwhelmed by the sudden outpour of concern and love from the people in my life. An acquaintance- a uni senior, caught up with me over text and was nothing but supportive, in terms of encouraging me in my studies to my new apartment and settling down, to job offers in the future. I also shared the good news to whoever I thought helped me pull through the internship- very important people, and I am just so grateful and to be honest, pleasantly surprised by all their supportive messages and calls. External validation isn't something that I crave for, but all these affirmations from these various friends and family members have been nothing but wonderful. I never knew that sharing good news with friends can trigger such reactions from them. 

2. 

I've finally settled into my new apartment and everything is starting to fall into place and hopefully by the end of the weekend, I will be able to fully settle in. I've filled up the fridge with some of my favourite things that I've missed so dearly and there is just something fulfilling about running errands and making a space feel a little like home. 

3. 

Tonight when Jodie and I were shopping, we went to 3 different supermarkets to try to find our favourite Peach and Mango Lipton Tea, but the first 2 supermarkets we went to didn't carry them anymore. 

And similar to the time when my favourite muesli went out of production, how I constantly gave up looking down the cereal aisle by the second time I couldn't find it, I did the same with the tea by the second supermarket we went to. 

But friends like Jodie, they are the ones that drag my hand down the cereal aisle and constantly tell me, "you can find it if you look hard enough. Let's just try walking down the aisle one more time." Keep looking, keep trying.  

By the third supermarket we went to, obviously defeated, I didn't expect much when we walked down the tea aisle. Just like how I expected it to be, the tea wasn't there. "Out of production la," I said. "It's sad how you take these things for granted. You think that they would be in your life for a little longer, but then suddenly one day you come back for it but it's gone. For good." I scoffed a bit, and laughed at how things could become so deep so quick over our fricking favourite tea going out of stock. 

Then suddenly Jodie excitedly shouted for me, "Look! The new tea is on sale!" You see, Jodie and I LOVE aesthetically pleasing packaging on food, and when visiting the tea aisle in 2 different supermarkets, we noticed this new range of teas that Twinnings released, and wanted to try them. But we didn't let go of the hope of finding the peach and mango tea and the new twinnings tea were slightly out of our budget, so we joked and said, "buy when it goes on sale." 

We quickly grabbed the new twinnings tea and got all excited to try the new tea. I turned my head to the direction where all the Lipton tea boxes were arranged at and I told Jodie, "I guess this is life telling us when one door closes, another will open up. See? Like better tasting tea and more aesthetically pleasing packaging will come to us. ON SALE SOMEMORE!!!!" 

She laughed and told me, "So sometimes you gotta let go of things that might never come back, despite it being your favourite. And for all you know, there'll be better things waiting for you just around the corner, like this tea! Just search hard enough and be patient." 

#mcnuggetsofwisdom attained from going to the supermarket thrice in a day searching for tea.

Also, I guess it's like what they always say?? Third time's a charm. Ha.

4. 

Hearing from someone that you have been missing is always pleasant. It's been a while since there has been nothing but well wishes and honest words. It is everything I miss and it's nice to know that they still care about how you've been doing and cannot be happier when you've achieved something so great with their help. 

CONCLUSION. I

Tonight just further emphasised how it has always been you. 

CONCLUSION. II

It has been a rough start to my day, with Mum and Josh leaving, crying on my bed watching the small uber car icon on google maps move slowly away from me on my phone. Rachel, you always love to set yourself up in situations to make yourself feel even worse , Jodie always tells me. However, the evening had a wonderful turn to it and I found myself tearing up because of all the love I've been receiving from everyone and how everything seems to be finding its place here and there. It's not quite right yet with things, but baby steps right? 

If people have that much faith in me, I guess I should start believing in myself a little bit more.

Here goes nothing -deep breath-

An Affinity With Eights: 821 / 809A / Unit 8

So today I moved out of one of the very few places that I've managed to call home here in Melbourne. 

4 hours. 

That's all it took to pack up and get out. I was angry at first, dashing for everything that I could claim as mine, reluctant to leave it behind despite having more than one rice cooker back at our new place. I simply could not let them have it. I didn't want to lose. For every pot, every utensil that I decided to keep and rip out from the cabinets they have lived in for the last year, it felt like I was collecting small bits of my dignity and pride, as if this were to tell them, look at how empty you are now that I am gone. You needed me. 

It's been an exhausting day for everyone, especially mum, Josh and myself. Before heading to bed tonight, I gently scooted over to Josh's side and thanked him for helping me pack and move. He nudged my stomach lightly and grunted. That was his way of saying you're welcome. 

When mum and I were laying in the dark, I thanked her for powering through the afternoon on barely any rest from our flight back to Melbourne, and she nagged on about things to get from the supermarket tomorrow and how I should be acting around my new housemate, girl ah, next time be a bit cleaner, he's a nice boy, you must learn how to accommodate and understand...That was her way of saying you're welcome.

Truth be told, I've been working and packing the whole day without even thinking. Finally at 3:08 am, I am finally having some time to collect all my emotions and letting reality settle in that these white walls I am staring at are no longer the ones at uropa. My view isn't the skyline of the city and the balcony can no longer see beautiful sunrises and sunsets. 

I miss every bit of that place. Not only because of its physicalities, but also because of the absurd amount of memories created in there. I can't even begin listing them. I am afraid I might start crying and my heart will feel heavier than it already is. I know it's terrible placing sentimental value in something so vast, so fleeting and so concrete. 809A will never budge, but I will move one day, thus depositing so many memories in there will eventually come back and haunt me if I were to ever step in that unit again. 

This new place is ... familiar, but it doesn't feel like home. It's still unsettling. I still feel uneasy and unable to fall asleep on this weird bed that is now mine, and this view that isn't the city skyline. Perhaps this is what first nights feel like. I've forgotten. 

The only reason why I'm up writing this is because my heart is heavy and unsettled and there's that weird sick feeling in my stomach. Maybe it was having dinner at 12:30 am that's causing all this discomfort. It's that feeling as though this space isn't mine to occupy and I'm just borrowing a few square metres of this area to hold in all my shit I've accumulated the past 4 years here. To also hold all the contents of myself in this space, denoted by square metres, and the rental of this space to be paid on the 25th of every month. 

Perhaps it's the overwhelming feeling when recalling today's moving situation: 4 of my girlfriends and my new housemate frantically moving boxes and just things up and down from my apartment to the car and from the car to my new apartment. Some of them lugging empty luggages over to my apartment just to help fit more of my shit and all walking over to my new apartment with all of my shit because the car was too full of shit that it couldn't fit any of us anymore. Seeing Jodie rush over to meet me after school, helping to basically unpack and organise my whole room, was a sight which reminded myself that these friends are true gems in my life. I don't deserve any of this kindness, I am so full of shit most of the time it was hard to digest everyone's selflessness and willingness to help me out today. 

Perhaps it was also the moment when I saw my mother falling asleep on the couch, lightly snoring. It is then I realised that she had barely enough sleep on the plane ride to Melbourne earlier on, but was quick to help pack up my whole house in the afternoon with no breakfast, no lunch and no coffee. A mother's love is deeply moving and so, so selfless. It should never be underestimated. I recall that night that I fell into her arms and sobbed my eyes out, heaving into her wet shirt, because I was so bummed out about this moving situation, losing a close friend and was overwhelmed by guilt that she had to come over, but she hugged me and stroked my head, as if I was 9 again, and told me that it was going to be okay. She will help me. 

So tonight, I am going to head to bed telling myself that it is going to be okay. Mum and josh and all these wonderful friends are here to help me. This place will soon feel a little more like home soon. 

I would like to say I'm homeisck but I'm not sure where is home anymore. 

Seventeen And You've Grown.

five & one.

you were pulling and tugging

my hair like my temper

was short 

you were always cutting it close 

with your carelessness 

with my impatience 

you are still my little brother. 

eighteen & fourteen.

your voice changed

I was away from home and had my heart broken

you would think now that you could swing your arms around me- 

I'd treat you like your age

I was barely there and now when I try to recall 

it's almost like trying to rewind an old cassette video tape recording 

staring hard at the tv screen 

with occasional fuzzy black and white lines in between snippets of our bickering,

our laughter muffled by scratchy sounds from 

everything falling apart,

"you were never there" 

"you were never home"

you are still my little brother. 

twenty one & seventeen. 

we have slaved ourselves to vices 

sticking to the sibling code of conduct:

diss but never tattle

last night like a deer caught in headlights,

she found out.

we had this conversation that I never thought I would have with someone 

only seventeen

someone that is in the same plight. 

I didn't shower and you didn't fall asleep,

even though I smelled like steamboat and cigarettes and you had work the next day. 

I remember looking at you,

finding it hard recognising sadness in your eyes-

they were always either emotionless or excited. 

It was never emotional with you 

restrictive, bounded and built like a man.

last night felt like we were tearing at the seams

I told you with nothing but conviction,

"you have such capacity to say these words that you said at 

only seventeen, 

that I could never have done when I was seventeen." 

I could have never done the same.

Have you ever felt respect for your younger sibling? 

It's a bit weird because they were always

bratty, childish and sometimes almost stupid. 

Last night's conversation was something that kept playing at the back of my head when I was trying to fall asleep 

while trying to be an older sister

I have come to realise

you are still my little brother, 

but

boy, have you grown up. 

Like The Breeze, The Thoughts Of You Come To Me

Today, while crossing the road, I noticed a young girl probably in her first year of secondary school, dressed in a skirt way below knee length and socks perfectly above her ankles. She was walking towards the train station with her grandfather, who had the typical friendly ah gong face and was holding her violin while she carried a stack of folders in her arms. He probably went to pick her up from school, I thought to myself.  And just for a moment, my thoughts went back to my grandfather.

Many times, when popo and I talk about gong gong, it was always about the way he used to spoil me when I was a kid by buying me ice cream before dinner. His bad temper. His sickness. His failure as a father. 

Sometimes, if I try to think hard enough, I'll recall the letter I wrote him with tear stains smudging the ink off the lines on my foolscap paper, begging him to come visit me in my dreams. That letter I wrote to him and left it on his coffin when everyone else left him flowers. The angels will translate my English into hokkien right? I was fourteen years old. 

I will also vividly remember the hot afternoons he used to come down to my place and visit me with a whole box of paus, and longans - if I was lucky enough. And that one sweltering afternoon I wanted to pump air into my bike tyres but we couldn't find a nearby bicycle shop so we he pushed my bike around the whole Joo Chiat area, under the hot sun and never once did he complain that he was too tired. 

From time to time, I'll miss you. And at that split second when I was crossing the road, watching granddaughter and grandfather, I remembered you. The rings on your fingers. Your strong scent. Your pack of cigarettes. Sometimes, a soft whisper of your voice would resound in my head. 

It's been 6 years and death works in a funny way, we talk about the dead as a weak attempt to try to keep them alive. Your stories were never great; they were always about the mistakes you made or how the richer siblings took advantage of your kindness. But they were stories of you after all. 

Popo once told me, "your gong gong never knew the right ways to show his love for his family. But somehow with you, he did it right. He loved you the most, you should know that."

Some days more than the others, I wonder how it would be like if you could see me now. Would you still love me the same? I would still have your weekly visits and hot steaming paus to look forward to, and probably better conversations with you.

Y3S1 Mid Sem Shenanigans

Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you are your own individual person and there is no need to latch yourself onto someone or something or some sort of ideal that you desire for. It's always the case where I find myself stuck in the situation of always being "too nice" and I'm over being that one friend that would risk everything and anything for everyone and giving my heart back so easily to people that have hurt me before. So here's a playlist, future Rachel, to remind yourself that the best decisions you've made are those that were based off what you wanted, what you felt was right, what you contemplated on independently. 

I am my own person I am my own person I am my own person I say this over and over again and please start to believe it. 

(I apologize for the lack of updates, I've been so busy with work and unnecessary shit) 

A Mother's Embrace

Forgotten how a mother's embrace can tear you apart and piece you back all at the same time, with her steady breathing and soothing pats. 

She looked at me with those eyes surrounded by wrinkles, her aged face showing an expression of helplessness as I crumbled in front of her. Suddenly I felt like I was 10 again, apologizing profusely for being naughty and getting all of us scolded by father, "Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry...." 

I could only muster these words, but she knew everything that my heart wanted to say. 

Her hands stretched out to me - like how she has always done so my entire life, "come here." And I did. She hugged me against her chest and told me that everything was okay, that I will be okay and I don't have to feel bad about anything. My guilt was engulfing me whole the last few days/weeks/hours and I couldn't stop bawling my eyes out into my mother's arms. 

Her embrace took out all the guilt that I've been bestowing upon myself the last few weeks, and her pats on my back almost felt like her shooing the guilt out of my system. 

"Mummy will go. It's going to be okay. Don't feel bad anymore." 

I've forgotten how it was like to hug my mother and have her tell me things are going to be okay. Tonight I realized how therapeutic it was, and her embrace stitched back my wounds that were caused by people that were not family. It was infected with hurt, betrayal and disappointment with a tinge of anger. Mother's hugs were like medicine - morphine, almost. It numbed the pain and I felt alright again. 

In her arms, I found my safe place. Oh, how I have missed your warm chest and soothing back rubs, mother.