Monthly Archives: September 2015


As I write this I am super tired and am currently slumping on the chair at the FREAKING ARTS BUILDING Of LU & the past 2 days have been tiring 


Grandma’s Place

My maternal grandmother is a special person!!!!!!! She is little in stature but BIG in presence. Her laugh and smile are one of the things that can totally lift my spirits after a long day if I get to chat with her. She makes fast friends with everyone in hr neighbourhood. She cooks the best food ever!!!!!! 100% homey feelz every time I get to eat lunch at her house on Saturdays :”) 

She cooked abalone porridge + her classic bee hoon which was absolutely mindblowing – I have not tasted anything like it. Although there is an abundance of spring onions in the porridge (which I hated) plus a ton of ginger slices (also ranking high on the Dislike list) I ate it all and even had a second serving LOL my grandmother doesn’t even have to force food down my throat man – it is just THAT good!!!!! She says she puts just chicken and spring onion and ginger slices and abalone in the porridge to cook but I think the secret is a whole lot of love :”) she loves being busy in the kitchen but I know it’s been tiring for her anyhow. Plus there’s all the clean up and all that after but she still does it for me (& my fam) every Saturday afternoon without fail. We just bond over the Heaven that is my grandmother’s cooking. Truly nothing can top that, not even the best restaurants. To me, the most expensive ingredients cannot replace the unmistakeable taste of food which cooked with love. Is it selfish for me to want Waipo to cook like this forever??? 😄😄😄 cos if that is possible, I WOULD GLADLY GIVE LIKE 10 YEARS OF MY LIFE!!!!! yeaaaah 


Packing up my stuff makes me feel equal parts of 1) there’s so much of me gone  and 2) yet there’s so much of me left 

Ya feel? I mean, I’ve packed so much of my stuff to bring to the UK but it is also physically impossible to pack every single item in the room, including built-in wardobes etc. Therefore leaves the remnants of my life in my (ex????) room while I move on to another country. 

It’s gonna be so weird when I’m back in December and I see my room 100% intact. Like abandoned houses, my house would have been “abandoned” for 3 months, and would continuing being abandoned on 3-6 month intervals, depending on when I’m back. Just because I don’t live in it or use things in it anymore doesn’t mean it ceases to exist. My piles of shit are gonna be right where I choose to leave them, as is my chair, my stacks of “organised-mess” under the table, my messy noticeboard with 39382020 notices I don’t actually read. Hahahah ain’t it weird. 

Sidetrack: I’m feeling sadder than usual but I don’t know if it’s cos of everything/one I’m leaving behind or the familiarity or maybe just the fear of venturing into a new country. 😦 but as they say, a smooth sea never made a skillful sailor, and life begins at the end of your comfort zone. (v. wise people obviously)