I have not expected to be on this journey of engaging so much into K-Drama. Look at what MCO has done to me.

The romanticism in the dramas takes me out of my world. Funnily enough it has managed to make my senses be free to be attentive to other people. I’d feel free enough to be spooning my spouse afterwards.

Perhaps it’s not just the romanticism. The need to feel being cared for. The falling in love. The sweetness. The gestures. Not in comparison with the Western show of skin, flesh and physicality. It’s different. It’s ‘purer’ in some ways.

The last of it was a bad crush on Travis Fimmel. But I’ve found the K crush that I’m Googling for at times when I feel sh*tty, Park Seo Joon. Hyun Bin is off the list. He had apparently modeled for Tommy Hilfiger before.

I’m also listening to all the K-Drama’s OST playlist that he’s in.

You know, after binge watching and trying to be rational, this is what I’ve come up with. At night, Seo-Joon’s self is there holding me to sleep in his arms and Travis telling me, “Aw it’s alright, honey. You’ve done all you can”.

What is it with their height and built structure? To have 6-footers against my 5’2″, I’m tiny within their palms. Their slender length of the neck down to the toned broad shoulders. Sense of protection and security. To be able to hide within them. Where my hands will seem to be dainty against them. That I will be equal and strong, a girl and dainty with strong protective men who cares of me.

I don’t know why I’m crying now. The tears fall hidden behind my mask at work. I don’t know. My hormones are crazy, maybe.

I want to be hugged. Skin to be touched. Hand to be held. Legs to be entwined. I want to be wanted. I want attentiveness. I want to be loved. Emotional aptness. I guess everyone else wants and deserves the same too. Pure emotion. Sincerity.

(Okay, I cry more now).

2019: Letter to Myself

Dear Self,

You’ve thrown yourself in much sorrow this year. Constant sadness that drowns anyone else along the way, so you don’t want to share them for the fear that you might. They may swim away from you. All you fear is the abandonment. The rejection.

Feel all of this now please. Be with it for a while. Because you will leave it all behind in 2019. Move forward. Find inspirations. Have aspirations. Be in sync with passion (although you must find it first).

I love you more than you know. You always feel you are undeserving of such love. Such selfless self who gives more than you should.

So you deserve that comedy show booking that you will find some time. You also deserve that concert and that holiday you’re regretting to have paid for already. You deserve to be pushed. That’s all you need, because you need to be free.

Be free. Forgive other people for the things they didn’t know any better of. Remember the good people and experiences you had. Remember the depression and how you climbed out of it. Remember the self-pity and internal cries of ignored you are (although it is really self-inflicted); and how you’re going to be free from.

You will be free. One step at a time.

I hope you’ll enjoy 2020, in all fears that you have.



We went for Frozen 2, 2 days ago.

I watched Anna struggle to be on her own, to manage through without her reasons for. Without Elsa, without Olaf. I told myself, not to fall down that pit again just to suddenly be familiar with what she goes through. I made it. And I cried.

You know, I was okay these few days. But as I sit here in the office in front of the PC, suddenly I feel a pit going down and down and down in me with, “I’m lonely (again),” – and a tear fell out. How easy does that happen? How easy can’t it make me feel up?

DH and I, I whispered in his ears yesterday. “Why don’t you hold my hands when we go out? Is it because you don’t like me?” He grinned and didn’t answer as he continued to play Toon Blast.

“Yes, I think you don’t like me”.

It made me think of this pattern. Of how my mother feels about my father. Asking Sister4 not to invite him for holiday because, “He really doesn’t like me”. How do we feel this? We just feel it. We’re just still in a relationship that’s wonky because that’s how we’ve just learned to accept it.

I want it changed. Because I deserve to be happy. But I keep falling into this pit so easily.

So last night DH slept off early while I was still sitting out on the porch with my phone gaming and cigarettes. I went up, washed up, set up Farmville2 and couldn’t sync a connection at all. It began to feel, displaced; just as how he was sleeping on the bed. I went down again, cigarettes and phone. Gaming, with my legs stretched out past midnight.

He called, asking me where I was. I went up, and he then took a quick shower to rinse of the day off of him. I laid on my own. As I usually do. Alone, most of the time. We don’t snuggle. I’m heaty, so I was told.

But last night, he propped me on on his shoulders. Tried patting me to sleep. Consoling me to sleep. It felt strange, but comforting. I didn’t sleep right away. Maybe I was weeping inside, knowing that this was temporary and it will be gone soon. But take it in, as much as I can.

I still feel he doesn’t like me. Just as how I hate him.

A family pattern needs to be broken.

Our House

I am a proud house owner as at 1.45PM today having just signed the S&P.

I have no feelings. I mean, I was happy. Then when we began talking about what we wanted to have in the house, it became a little bit of what I want, what could work and what he wanted. So I gave out. I knew what I wanted and what I liked.

Industrial farmhouse with clean lines.

A kitchen of arabian tile backsplash, white tabletop, white top cabinets and blue bottom cabinets.

Anything alike Fixer Upper fusion with The Cousins. Functionality.

But for all that I’ve treadled along these few weeks, and foregoing the things I didn’t have to do/go through, and listening to his wishlist that keeps changing… He is a creative person. Very creative. So his mind goes to the moon and back several times.

So last night, I feel like I was denied (not shutdown) of my opinion.

What about floor tiles that look like wood?
– Not sure what you’re talking about. (Gets shown photo sample) I don’t even know. Better off we use concrete slabs for the flooring. I think 6 pieces of the concrete slabs should cover it.

Before that was all industrial things he was talking about. So much of it. Then wanting colourful tiles, then chandelier etc.

I resigned within me. And this was what I told him:

“I’ll let you do with whatever you want to do with the house as well as the kitchen, so long I get to have my bottom blue cabinets”

Of course someone got offended. “Yes, I am aware of your need for the blue cabinets. We can’t simply just take what see. We have to make sure and need to see combo colours, the concept to wrap around it…”

It’s alright, honey. Here, take the horse. Just take it. Ride it as far as you want to. I will enjoy my time in my meadow. Because I don’t know that I don’t deserve the stress of handling you stressing about it.

…The house will be ready in 2 years anyhow.

My Own Visibility

Today, this morning. I feel like I’m slightly out of my life, looking at it as a purview of something else. Taking my life in a glace to see the meaning of it. How if the way I feel it can be validated as it is. Something only what an INFJ could make sense of.

My life isn’t pathetic. It’s a trying life. Trying of balance. Trying of giving and being. Trying to not fall apart. Trying not to be broken. Trying not to be too strong. Trying not to indulge. Trying not to expect. Trying not to give too much.

When there are most days like this as you live them by…

Expectation is something that can break you. Leave it behind – far behind. Move a step and celebrate it. Celebrate each step, yes.

I talk more with my kids. They talk more with me. My teenage sons will hold my hand and wrap me in their arms even if we walk in public. My daughter gives and knows when to stop.

I’m grateful.

So many so many so many things.

Soon there will be a time where DH has to be away for a few months again. I must remind myself not to wallow, be sad – because being sad was the trigger of my illnesses.

Dear Self,

Listen to Khalid. Sing to Sam White. Scream with Kurt and Freddie. Laugh like you’re watching Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder. See each scene like it was in Hangover and White Chicks. Close your eyes, take long breaths and feel the beach.

You’ll get by. Just one day at a time.


You have, after all, learnt to take care of others and managed to take care of yourself too. So,good job to learning something progressive.

I know there are days where the emotions are lack of. But those days are alright. Nothing more than a few days to wallow. There’s nothing that coffee and green tea can’t fix; and Lindt Hazelnut Dark Chocolate Bars too, of course.

Now, now. Pat yourself on the back. “OK”.

I know you’re sleepy and miserable from the over a week long PMS without actual bleeding already. You’ll get by. Had your oat, now go make a nice something-something for yourself.

Update: Finally the period came. About an hour after posting this.

Picket Fences

Rumbled under so much emotion.

I’m just tired. Tired of having to explain myself. Talking with no one listening. Lack of motivation. Talking and having people breaking your trust. I’m hurt. I don’t get asked out for lunch. Laughed at when someone asks me to smile. Waiting but not being waited for.

It feels like dull ache over my broken heart.

This ‘complaint’ that seems to be constant. Makes me sound like I’m 15 again. It has all driven me to stay on my own. To take care of myself. My own heart. My own white picket fences. My own well-being. I’m not strong like how they claim it is to be.

It’s time to quench of what heart has turned into rock. Bless us all before it turns into glass where it will break when it falls to the ground.

Reblog: What I Want


I’ve been circling around this. This wonderment of stagnant life squareness that it can be. You just stand there and suck everything else in. Encapsulated in what bubble wrap, where each bubble contains every single type of emotion, that I had been in all week since the beginning of December. Apparently I had over-peopled myself, which now makes complete sense to me. 

My heart seeks for a hidden coffeeshop with a lot of plants that I can hideaway tucked behind them with the mist fan all over me. Or somewhere I can walk in with my slippers and a big hat over my head that wouldn’t be matching anything else I have on, just because that hat makes me happy. And arms with many casings of slushies and hot coffee because the two opposite things make me happy – it doesn’t matter whether I’d finish them. Although I’d feel sorry that I would be wasting resources that other could possibly use well.

I was so wayward with everything yesterday, I drove myself out for lunch alone. Didn’t have a direction so my path changes as the traffic goes. Switching lanes, dumbfounded but moving along. I found myself in a hotel restaurant and ordered myself the best steak ever. It was for me. As the last bite was taken, myself settled. It was, “OK”. 

The one that fixed me. I’ll probably run back to this place whenever I need fixing again. So much for no direction driving. 

Time. I need them. I hope I get away from idiots today. Lol. So many of them. But nothing an INFJ asshole (lol true) like me can’t handle – unless they completely drain me out. Let’s hope it won’t be the latter.

My bucket daisies with butterflies

A colleague of mine, is a compassionate man. Willing to listen, able to get what you’re saying in a stressed situation, and witty. Many times I feel drawn to him. He often give me the attention that I need. Often the unseen one that some may find meaningless or petty, but is important for me. He makes time for everyone, in person or online, which in return people appreciate and feel important. And of course, I feel that validation too.

I have always wondered how comfortable he is around a person. The vibes. His spirit is intelligent and free. There is no barrier when he is working close with me. I find it very refreshing. He’s like a bucket of daisies with butterflies kind of comfort to me. It is intriguing.

So one day, I stumbled upon this photo in social media. Him, in a family group photo where 95% were women. Then so I understood – Why his spirit is free and comfortable around me and other female colleagues.

He takes care of all the women in his life. A mother, wife and sisters to look after, every more the responsibility is on his shoulders since his father passed some years ago. He does his own ironing, and he ferries his children around to school in the morning and weekends. For me, he is the epitome of how a real man should be. He is all that and still manage to be the bucket of daisies and butterflies for me, what more of a person he is to his wife and family?

I hope God will protect him and people alike him. Just because we need to have someone like him around our lives, if not at least, at one point of our life.


Slow and steady, woman. Yeehaw.

I managed time to spend with SIL1 last night. We walked into Starbucks and suddenly the water leaked at the bottom so that’s how my Americano got to be Java Chip – they ran out of hot water, so I could have anything else but something hot.

For all the worst of things, I feel is the struggle within me. Wanting to be motivated, wanting to complete something easily without the hyperspace deep thought to untangle yards of yarn in nano seconds. Be free. Yes, to be free.

SIL1 tells a story on Instagram. I smiled. Not that it didn’t mean anything. I’m more a reader than a visual person for one. I just… So I told her. I don’t go into Instagram because it makes me sad to see what I get to see, because I feel sad for the things I cannot do. So if I see one, I will logout. She went “Oh… No wonder”. You don’t have to wonder too far. The truth is in front of you. “Don’t forget I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her”. Haha.

Somehow I feel a little disconnected this morning. Maybe I need more coffee. Or maybe I need time to stand by myself under a large shady tree for some time. Or sleep on my right looking at the sea under a big tree – without fire ants please.

Lagged time off work. Came late. Felt unwell with chest congestion. Paid month’s due this morning. Everything slow and steady.


Another cup of coffee, and I’m ready to go all into work. (After so many hours of clocking in. Oh, well. On some days, it happens.)

You get what you need, not always of what you want.

I got my period.

It has been quite a challenge getting them after the age of 40 for me. The 2 weeks before was just me sleeping on the office desk, or coming home to sleep just waking up before sunset. Terrible. Then the 2 days into getting my menses, yesterday was literally like being on the 1st day home after a cesarean section, which i.e. equivalent to your 4th day of confinement. Once I took part in a half marathon (like a gazillion years ago), the next day the body feels like the 8th of confinement after a cesarean.

So I was sharing this with a male colleague and he went, “Really is that how much pain you would be in still after having delivered your baby?” He hadn’t thought it would be that long. After 10 years of having my last baby, I’m thinking the same. How cute it always is to feel we CAN handle another pregnancy IMMEDIATELY after the first one. That’s the reason why God make women full of love enough to be forgetful of the pain we have to endure for each pregnancy.

Alone again today. Picking up calls for those whom have left for the cafeteria. Me, ordering personal pizza online, worrying about how soon it will get here. I had forgotten to put in my phone number and the web keeps saying the ‘order is being received’ instead of progressing into ‘order being processed’. I hope in any case, there is no expectancy of me sharing it with anyone. Just because I don’t feel like it.

The pizza call center just called me back. My number is there. Now I’m worried because I ordered late so the food will only be here at 1.30PM.

I really wish I could bring my husband somewhere for a beach holiday. Just the two of us first, then with the kids. Days of spa. Days of burying him in sand with shapes of boobies and bikinis. Have him with me in a bed of fluffy white while eating pretzels, cracking sunflower seeds and potato chips watching seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, Modern Family and Boston Legal. Him, pushing me with his foot on a chair swing.

For everything that has happened to me, I am blessed to have my zing. I’ve learnt that you have to give to be given what you need. You don’t always get what you want. But life is a process. Enjoy it.

Note: Periods are emotional. Now I feel like crying.