Before the holidays I told myself I am going to take time out in the evenings, go to the park and jog. Or at least do something that would increase my heart rate and eventually strengthen my heart muscles so I don't get out of breath when climbing up the steps in the college library.
When I arrived home, I said I was too tired. I'll start the next week. The next week rolled by and it was Gawai. That's when we go to the village. So not that week then. What about the following week?
Turns out, every evening I would be preoccupied with something else. Helping mum prepare dinner, completing chores just before mum comes home so she doesn't suspect I've been spending too much time on the computer, watching movies and catching up on television shows. The usual.
This afternoon I told myself, after coming back from the movies I will lace up my running shoes and go to that blasted park and run (or at least jog) and try not to get a side-stitch. There. I had all intention and BAM! It started raining. Oh sweet rain. Sweet blessed rain. And my, it poured. Thunder, lightning- the whole works.
Okay, maybe I did cheat a little. I made that promise knowing it would rain in the evening. In fact, it was drizzling a little when I made the promise. So, I guess it doesn't work that way huh?
I may be wrong and I might suddenly wake up in an alternate universe or something, but I don't think I would be able to even attempt to jog this time around. I mean seriously, it rains ever evening. Every single evening. So no jogging for me then?
WRONG! My treacherous brain just reminded me that I can wake up early in the morning and do some laps. Oh brain, you have betrayed me. How could you? Betrayed the very vessel that houses you!
Since it has come to my attention that I could achieve my goal of jogging a little in the morning, then I shall at least attempt it right? That way, if I do fail I can say "Well, at least I tried," and put on my million-dollar smile :D
And now to have a little chat with my brain..
Signing out,
zen-sarcasm
Two things are aesthetically perfect in the world- the clock and the cat. -Emile Auguste Chartier
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I Paid To See You Frown
This post is best read in a British accent for reasons to be revealed later.
It has been a few days since I'm officially 19 and honestly I don't feel 19. In fact, I still feel 17. Still in living in the sheltered life of high school- not having to deal with the problems that come with the real world.
And speaking of the real world, I find that I am way behind in the checklist for things to do before one turns 20. I think I've only done like a tenth of the things in my mental checklist. Some better left unmentioned. Time to go find a rather willing companion to ride off into the sunset to complete my list :D
During the week after the start if my semester break and before flying to Kuching, I have found the perfect method to pass time- by watching British talk shows. Simple hilarious. My conscience is now speaking to me in a British accent (hence the little reminder on top). Truth is I have always loved the British accent and honestly I find them irresistible (read: sexy). Yes, truth is out. Abigail is not an asexual and is capable of finding things sexy. Other things the author finds hot shall not be revealed here lest it be used as blackmail against the author.
Moving out of the hostel the other day proved to be small challenge for me. As an owner of several pairs of footwear, my dad has banned me from making anymore purchases for footwear in the next semester and the following semesters to come. Which is rather sad as I am very fond of shoe-shopping. Oh well, you know what they say repeatedly in Spamalot: Always look on the bright side of life. And I will. I now set my sights on bags. Or maybe tops. Or heck, I might even develop a sock fetish. But who cares? As long as I'm not buying any more shoes, daddy's happy.
With 2 months in Kuching, I have my sights set on certain goals. Some of which would help me with the little mental list I came up with. Mentally of course. I would not put it in paper. Fall into the wrong hands and it might just destroy my reputation. And yes, I do have a reputation. Good or bad, you decide (: Whoop-de-doo. Now to face certain fears of mine. Oh joy.
Signing out,
silica gel
Ps: I just noticed how pointless this whole post is. But who cares? No one reads it anyway. *laughs maniacally*
It has been a few days since I'm officially 19 and honestly I don't feel 19. In fact, I still feel 17. Still in living in the sheltered life of high school- not having to deal with the problems that come with the real world.
And speaking of the real world, I find that I am way behind in the checklist for things to do before one turns 20. I think I've only done like a tenth of the things in my mental checklist. Some better left unmentioned. Time to go find a rather willing companion to ride off into the sunset to complete my list :D
During the week after the start if my semester break and before flying to Kuching, I have found the perfect method to pass time- by watching British talk shows. Simple hilarious. My conscience is now speaking to me in a British accent (hence the little reminder on top). Truth is I have always loved the British accent and honestly I find them irresistible (read: sexy). Yes, truth is out. Abigail is not an asexual and is capable of finding things sexy. Other things the author finds hot shall not be revealed here lest it be used as blackmail against the author.
Moving out of the hostel the other day proved to be small challenge for me. As an owner of several pairs of footwear, my dad has banned me from making anymore purchases for footwear in the next semester and the following semesters to come. Which is rather sad as I am very fond of shoe-shopping. Oh well, you know what they say repeatedly in Spamalot: Always look on the bright side of life. And I will. I now set my sights on bags. Or maybe tops. Or heck, I might even develop a sock fetish. But who cares? As long as I'm not buying any more shoes, daddy's happy.
With 2 months in Kuching, I have my sights set on certain goals. Some of which would help me with the little mental list I came up with. Mentally of course. I would not put it in paper. Fall into the wrong hands and it might just destroy my reputation. And yes, I do have a reputation. Good or bad, you decide (: Whoop-de-doo. Now to face certain fears of mine. Oh joy.
Signing out,
silica gel
Ps: I just noticed how pointless this whole post is. But who cares? No one reads it anyway. *laughs maniacally*
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Throw Our Hands In The Air
And now for a totally cliched post on Mother's Day.
I understand how hard it is for a woman to raise her children especially in times like these, when both parents are usually working. To make time for both work and spending time with the children is somewhat demanding. I can never seem to grasp the understanding of how a mother of 2 (or maybe more) can juggle responsibilities between a 2 year old toddler and a newborn. My question is how?! How is it possible to care for an attention-seeking, probably babbling, wailing toddler AND a crying newborn having to nurse, care and change regularly because they don't always smell like milk and baby talcum.
Which brings me to my first point. I have made up my mind that IF and WHEN I do decide to get married and have children, well it would not be plural. A child. Singular. 9 months of carrying something growing inside of you, sucking up your nutrients, making you swell up. Hey, it sounds like I'm describing a tumour. And to remove this growing thing, by either normal birth of Cesarean birth, is another Herculean task. To raise that growing and living thing, being entirely responsible for another life. To make sure he or she gets a good education, a roof over his/her head, clothing, food on the table. That's not it. The regular medical check-ups, insurance, baby food.. Have you seen the cost of baby formula?
My friends argue saying my kid would be lonely and lack social skills. Well, not if my sister has her kids and I'd just put my child there. Arrange play-dates with other children. There. Problem solved. He or she shall be very social despite being an only child.
This post is merely to highlight how much I realise our parents put into raising us. It's like an investment with no sight of a return- just full of risk. Kinda like gambling huh? I have no idea how my mum managed my sister and I but I thank God she did well. I mean, look at us. We not screwed up :D
So mum, I know you won't read this anytime soon but maybe if and when you do come across this, know that Bev would be the one providing lots and lots of grandkids. Not me.
Signing out,
pink-narwhals
I understand how hard it is for a woman to raise her children especially in times like these, when both parents are usually working. To make time for both work and spending time with the children is somewhat demanding. I can never seem to grasp the understanding of how a mother of 2 (or maybe more) can juggle responsibilities between a 2 year old toddler and a newborn. My question is how?! How is it possible to care for an attention-seeking, probably babbling, wailing toddler AND a crying newborn having to nurse, care and change regularly because they don't always smell like milk and baby talcum.
Which brings me to my first point. I have made up my mind that IF and WHEN I do decide to get married and have children, well it would not be plural. A child. Singular. 9 months of carrying something growing inside of you, sucking up your nutrients, making you swell up. Hey, it sounds like I'm describing a tumour. And to remove this growing thing, by either normal birth of Cesarean birth, is another Herculean task. To raise that growing and living thing, being entirely responsible for another life. To make sure he or she gets a good education, a roof over his/her head, clothing, food on the table. That's not it. The regular medical check-ups, insurance, baby food.. Have you seen the cost of baby formula?
My friends argue saying my kid would be lonely and lack social skills. Well, not if my sister has her kids and I'd just put my child there. Arrange play-dates with other children. There. Problem solved. He or she shall be very social despite being an only child.
This post is merely to highlight how much I realise our parents put into raising us. It's like an investment with no sight of a return- just full of risk. Kinda like gambling huh? I have no idea how my mum managed my sister and I but I thank God she did well. I mean, look at us. We not screwed up :D
Bev's not that tall actually. I'm bending a little to achieve the almost-same-height look
So mum, I know you won't read this anytime soon but maybe if and when you do come across this, know that Bev would be the one providing lots and lots of grandkids. Not me.
Signing out,
pink-narwhals
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