Prerequisite to a better life

I am a deeply unhealthy person.

My secondary school friends used to be fucking amazed at my eating habits. I had porcelain clear complexion then. Nothing could faze my face. Pimples could check in but they'd check out within the week.

My face was the poster girl for health. All these while stuffing my face with KFC and pushing them my accompanying salad when we eat at fancier restaurants.

It used to piss one of my girlfriends off when I gave her advice for her face. I would tell her pimples need to be squeezed and blackheads will go away. And that the best solution for good skin is just normal water and body soap.

In fact I never thought there was a need for different soaps till my defining conversation with my best friend then. We were 15.

"Nicole why is your skin so clear ah? What products do you use?" 

"Uhhh I would soap my body then sunbian wash my face with it" 

"WHAT how can you wash your face with body soap?!" 

"Huh they are not the same meh?"

For a good two years, she thought I had some secret beauty routine that I was simply withholding from her. And she tried so hard to dig it out. But anyway, back to eating habits.

We would go out to eat and I would pick even the smallest piece of vegetable out from my dish. You know those little fake flakes of veggies in instant noodles? I'd pick that out too. I touched nothing green.

One of my poly friends tried forcing me to eat some. She stole all the meat from my dish and refused to give it back till I finished a mouth of veggies. I briefly considered starving but we had three engineering lectures back to back after and holy shit, I had to load up enough energy to sleep peacefully for that.

So I grudgingly ate the mouthful, I kid you not, while almost in tears and cursing her in my head a lot. She eventually gave me the meat and looked pretty proud she got me to eat my first green mouthful of 2010. YOU ARE LUCKY I LIKE YOU SS.

Cue 2014, the year my body broke into pieces. For a long time, I was plagued back to back by series after series of medical conditions. It seemed like every time I healed, something new would break. And still I did not think of changing my diet.

In fact, I had fun thinking, "HA that two-month-long bone ache did not kill me I must be invincible!"

Now, barely three months into 2015, I am once again back on my body's weakest stage yet. Back to back medical issues and plagued to death with body worries and a shit-ton of worrying symptoms.

And so, I decided to do the unthinkable.





I decided to juice my vegetables.

Heh heh okay I tried eating them wholly at first. I would take a look at the veggie compartment in my fridge, despair, then drag myself to pick out as much as I can. I would clean them briefly, dump them all into a boiling pot of water, and then dump them all into a bowl after.

And then I'll hold my breath and swallow everything.

My god typing this is an embarrassment. I can't believe there still exists a 22 year old terrified of vegetables. My parents have raised me in vain.

So anyway that didn't work out because my phobia for vegetables got full fledged after. My mum eventually decided to buy a juicer and when I saw it, it felt as if the heavens parted and a dove personally delivered upon me a golden scroll that said, "Health, bitch!"

I got really lazy to research up what I should eat or drink to re-calibrate my body for the better but I remember a conversation with a friend, in which he told me different veggies/ fruit colors serve different purposes. I zoned out after that line and the voices in my head agree to pretend we heard, "Ya Nicole just go crazy on the color."

And so here's my colorful spread of healthy shit that is now resting uncomfortably in my tummy, wondering to themselves what they did wrong to be so vengefully juiced by me when they could have been lovingly boiled by my mum.

Ah too bad sorry guys.

The truth to life

There is a single truth to life.

It lies not in your Xbox and it lies not in your bank account. It lies not in your stacked girlfriend and it lies not in your funky friends. It lies partially in marijuana and it lies comfortably in shrooms. But of all,

It lies in believing - believing that it gets better.

We push through our lives on that promise that things get better.

If I do A (work 9 - 5, do the household chores, attend a course), I will get B (a salary, a nice fuck when my partner comes home, a new pretty line on my resume).

On the long term horizon, you have C (afford a house and car, keeping the house tidy enough for him/ her to shut up about it, personal upgrade and now I'm better than my relatives and neighbors).

It is the very basis of what society does.

Makes sense right. Why would you do something today to fuck up tomorrow? Of course you do something today that helps tomorrow. And why? Because tomorrow is a promise.

 Tomorrow you could wake up with Beyonce's voice (no you won't) or Megan Fox's body (ha no you won't), tomorrow is a promise, a promise of a better day.

We cannot convince the world to live in the present, because it simply isn't feasible.

You see, the present contains immediate factors. The present can be manipulated (or adversely, is controlled) by annoying factors such as laziness, lack of funds, bad time management.

I could go fly a kite now, because I want to take a nice instagram picture. I could go photograph all my stocks now for carousell, because I want to start my sales early. I could go windsurfing right now, because I want to improve myself.

But I won't. In fact, chances are I won't do any of those three.

It is because it is easy to waste the present. The present is hard (and yet ironically, the easiest) to change. Aiya I'll just eat this potato chip, the Nicole tomorrow will get veggies. Aiya I'll just bookmark these job search sites, the Nicole tomorrow will send the resumes.

Tomorrow is a promise.

It is the most powerful promise there is.

Unfortunately, that is all it will ever be. 

Charles Bukowski once said that we are but millions of stale lives, stacked against each other in disgusting limpness, destined to lead lives so mind-numbingly boring they would do put spear-fishing ancestors to shame. In his failure, he declared the rest of the world equally hopeless.

But now that we are enlightened, perhaps we could do something about it.






Perhaps I would get arsed enough to take photographs of my shipment and upload them, facing (instead of postponing) my crippling fear that I may have spotted the wrong goods to bring in.

Perhaps I would get arsed enough to make myself pretty and take a nice photo, which would lead to me feeling better even if the situation looks the same.

Perhaps I would get arsed enough to beautify my resume and submit them across all my bookmarked sites, instead of leaving it to tomorrow because I am terrified of the rejection I will face.

It gets better Nicole. It gets better simply because it is the truth of this universe. It is the simple truth to life. It gets better Nicole. And you have to be there to see it.

It gets better.

My god I cannot express the freedom writing brings me. God I love writing.

Introducing the titular character

Okay I have to remember today.

Today was a day of two firsts.

Today was the first time my lover visited my secret place. 

And today was the first time my lover visited my secret place.

Heh heh heh holy fuck I am so proud of that line right there. 

(can't wait for you to read this baby!)

(also for you, I'm not intending to send you this directly because it makes me kinda shy)

Remember our blanket fort? Sometime in between, my mind slipped into a quick daze and for a moment, my mind visualized white and baby breath's blue peonies blooming when I looked at your profile kissing me.

(side note: see who needs drugs and alcohol when my mind can do this from the sheer power of my overactive imagination)

And when you turned to look at me, the visions ebbed away and all that ran through my mind was, "God this has to be a dream. It must be a sin to be so criminally happy with someone."

I can never run out of ways to tell you how much I adore you. 

You at the door, checking yourself out in the mirror while I studied you. You looking like a Greek god with your sculpted chest and throbbing shoulders, honed by the strategic lighting heh heh. You and the way you prop yourself up on top of me, the way your body expands to a hulking frame. You and you and you.

You interfering with my chess game with my baby brother. You and all the dramatic fuss you made making me worry I was losing. You eventually losing to my baby brother too heh heh. You being all proud that you won him at 4-in-a-row. Twice yes twice.

Oh you wonderful man you.

I can go on forever.

I want to :)

Midas' touch

Is this Megan Fox? No. Is this Alessandra Ambrosio? No. Is this Rachel McAdams? No. Do I have an unhealthy obsession with handmade-by-God-himself women? Yes. Fuck I digressed again.

Okay back to shore: so who is this chick who is now unfortunately descaled to a lesser pixel resolution on my cluttered blog space?

This is Lim Qing Ru.

For the life of me I will never understand why people don't get themselves an English name. If I was born with a Chinese name only, I'll force my parents to use my uttered first word as my name. Mum mum? Mum Mum Lee Yi Lin it is.

So anyway, this Lim Qing Ru chick is the chick I have been thinking about for a while.

To be honest, all rags-to-riches story look like recycled cans after a while. I genuinely thought this was like any other. But as with all things, it was a single line in the entire write-up that caught my eye.

"She recalls having food poisoning and not being able to afford the $15 doctor’s consultation fee. “I went home, cried and slept it off ,” she says baldly."

(I am not going to share the article because I don't want you to read it and get an epiphany ahead of me and end up with a big business a nice house a good man/ woman a handsome child - you get the picture)

(... source: http://www.herworldplus.com/lifestyle/women-now/millionaire-28)

The brutal honesty of it all.

From the start to the end, it is easy to classify this woman as a fighter; she herself brings it up at one point - proudly, I hope. Nothing about her vaguely emits her millionaire status - she remains a raw, restless energy that cannot be calmed.

I admire women with spirit.

I had a colleague, Karin. She worked in sales, which is highly commission based. She was 20 when she landed her first full-time job. The first time she did was print a photo of a car she wanted to have and everyday she slaved for it. And within a year she acquired it.

When I left, I told her I admired her the most in the office and that I only hope to be half the woman she is one day. It actually took a lot of courage for me to say that, because in office we are just always gossipy and bitchy so this was taking a serious route.

But to my surprise, she replied that she was genuinely surprised and happy that I see her as a role model, and adds that she believed I can go much farther than I think. It is a text I wish I kept. But of course OCD me had to clear my whatsapp chat histories. Fuck me ugh.

I am losing my point. What was my point shit.



My point is: 

I must not be discouraged just because what I want to do is unheard of in my family, extended or not.

I must not be discouraged just because I don't have an ivy league education and a family that comes from money.

I must not be discouraged just because I have limited funds because at least I have unlimited time, and a hell lot of youth to waste - the young can afford to fail, the old can't.

I must not be discouraged just because the beginning is tough because if it was easy, everyone would be doing it and they are not so thank god there's space for me.

I must not be discouraged just because I don't see progress immediately. I must instead work harder to make sure it materialize and make sure I do justice to the one dream that has possessed me since 2008.

I must not be discouraged.

I must be my own encouragement.

And of all,

I must not let this motivation die off.

Which is why this chunk of text is here. So at least the people reading it will be like, "oh ha ha Nicole is thinking of doing something she'll never do anyway" and I will be like, "ho shit I forgot people read this now I can't take it back" and I will finally get down to the nitty-gritty.

Also side-note if you, dear reader, fall under the "oh ha ha" catergory, up yours and up your mum's and I hope every MRT seat you sit on will be an uncomfortably warm one.

Okay off to work on my schtick and hopefully not to watch another Friends rerun. Goddamn sitcoms.

A degree in pain

I clocked 39.8deg for a fever yesterday and my mum went ballistic, telling me if I hit 40.0deg I will damage my mind and become stupid and so on.

I tried to tell her it's not true but inside I was worrying too so I kept doing maths equations in my head.

6 x 3 = 18

12 x 12 = 144

Inside my head, an unimpressed voice said, "Aren't you giving yourself questions whose answers you already know?"

And a happier voice popped up, "Eh heh heh heh heh!" 

I think that is pretty much the most interesting tidbit of this fever fever (heh heh) today.

As usual, my mind takes great delight in punishing itself when it senses my body in pain. When we commit, WE COMMIT. So anyway, one of the little scavengers inside my mind has picked up some leftover crayons in my sec 4 memory compartment to scribble the following across my eyes:

Why should I respect you, Nicole? How can you expect me to respect a person who doesn't even respect her own body to do something about it? You want to live your life at 50%, you be my fucking guest.

My mind is a ruthless little bitch. No more new Big Bang Theory episodes for it.

The simplest thing

It was a day like any other, the day I found out I love you.

You held my hands across the road and annoyingly told me I'd die without you because I cross without looking, the day I found out I love you.

You let no disappointment show on your face when my plan for us fell on our face and instead excitedly spoke about my favourite pasta place, the day I found out I love you.

You joked easily and happily about everything and anything, the day I found out I love you.

You got us a seat and tried to order me chamomile tea a la our first date, the day I found out I love you.

You reached across the table and held my hand saying this is our second first date, the day I found out I love you.

You spoke keenly and intelligently about interstellar and the complex science behind higher dimensions, the day I found out I love you.

You told me about your plate-tastic day while we made our way to the train, the day I found out I love you.

You did not react in the same disgusted way as everyone else in the train when a heavyset man barged noisily in and agreed when I said that that was our improvised comedy night, the day I found out I love you.

You gave me the nice leaning spot on the train and we read the news together (you very very slowly and me quickly heh), the day I found out I love you.

You shared with me your latest jam, Angels and Airwaves and listened to my Twenty One Pilots intently, the day I found out I love you.

You destroyed my favourite line as you misheard the lyrics to, "I will make you clean up everything you see" so in turn I told you Angels and Airwaves sounded whiny and un-Blink 182ish, the day I found out I love you.

You then dragged up a time where I declared, "bassists do not get laid!" and played the infectiously groovy +44 to prove your point, the day I found out I love you.

You came into the room and quietly whispered a secret to me and I told you what we should do to spite your little secret and you wore all the delight of a child, the day I found out I love you.

You crept up behind me and asked why I was stealing your hot water and smiled the cheekiest smile when I replied you with the single word, "guess", the day I found out I love you.

You told me you loved me in between breaths and positions (heh heh), the day I found out I love you.

You watched me clean up your room and happily reminded me that I signed up for this, the day I found out I love you.

You cuddled with me and started telling me about Naruto spoilers, the day I found out I love you.

You explained the story of the mother of chakra and laughed when you saw me diligently wikia-ing it, the day I found out I love you.

You subconsciously kept grabbing the bolster between us when I left it alone to get the blanket and when I grumbled that you are stealing my bolster, you mumbled "your bolster?" and let me have it anyway, the day I found out I love you.

You grudgingly spooned me after slapping all my hair away from your face and interlaced both my hands with yours and I fell asleep loved and content, the day I found out I love you.

You woke me up with delicate kisses and told me you made breakfast for me, the day I found out I love you.

You would never know how much joy you bring me and how often the days come where I find out how much I love you.


I do Gabriel.

Forever and always.

A tale of two redheads

Punggol waterway park is a lot less than what I bargained for heh heh.

We trudged through the fields looking for the perfect backdrop and she was super conscious of a loud, noisy group trailing behind us. But I refused to leave and eventually they moved off. GOOD THINGS HAPPEN WHEN YOU'RE TOO LAZY TO MOVE.

Had some really good pictures but surprise surprise, me and her are both picky as fuck so out of the 200 we taken of each other, we both only shortlisted four favourites.

Dinner with siewsia was a keen discussion about GPS and I found out new things, which is a score for me!

And of course, followed the talk.

Thank you for staying.