Got my double eyelid surgery for my left eye. When I'm done with law school I'll take on the right eye.

(shamelessly left this picture unfiltered)

i had one chipped nail

A week ago, I chipped a thumbnail when I was tearing at a clove of garlic. (Peeling would appear to be the more appropriate word but it was a battle between my fingernails clawing away at these seemingly thin layers of garlic skin, next time I'll consider googling tips on chopping up garlic)

It was a white jagged line, running dangerously close to the part where your thumb ends, and where your skin is most delicate and tender to touch.

I left it (to fate)(like how I do to too many things)

3 days later, I caught it on a loose thread from a top I was wearing. Then it was a folded edge from a a piece of paper. Then it got snared in the mess my bag contains when I was rummaging for my keys.

It split, halfway across my thumbnail. Still intact, but enough to make me wince and reach for a pair of nail clippers and snip at tiny bits of it half-heartedly.

I even have a grainy, badly taken picture for your viewing pleasure.

Earlier tonight, I was jabbing at a roll of toilet tissue and the remains of the jutted bit snapped and I had a bloodied thumb for the rest of the night.

So relieved now that it's (almost) all gone.

This is the story of the chipped nail I got rid of.

learn about anger

You should learn about anger,

That it starts off with you seething, and if you allow it enough time, it heats up to the right temperature, enough to leave you boiling, and all these words, settled at the bottom, heavy with hurt, they start bubbling right to the surface.

You should learn about anger,

That it starts off with you placed against a wall, watching a steel block inching towards you, and when the pressure builds up just right, adrenaline kicks in and you find yourself with the triple the strength to push away and break free

You should learn about anger,

That usually, when it ends, sadness and loneliness takes it's place.

__________________________________________________

Do I no longer know my worth.

This is one of those 17 year old moments when you clasp your hands to you face and dramatically exclaim that your life is ruined except that it isn't a joke anymore.

I cried. I cried so much. But I always do.

We talked. We talked a little. Like we sometimes do when troubles loom ahead of us. 

You left. You left too much behind. A wake of disaster the aftermath of an earthquake. 

So it does hurt as much as they say it does. 

i sincerely hope

I sincerely hope, for all relationships to start out as a tangled mess, a ball of wool all tightly intertwined and knotted, then, with a decent amount of time, a pair of patient hands, little sacrifices here and there, it would slowly unravel to form greater things.

I sincerely hope for this instead of the other way round.

The fact that I am (or my bf) is doing my personal statement a day before the deadline when I had a 3 months break = my personal statement. 

Jk. Or maybe not.

did she or did you

Did your mum ever warn you against plastering your bedroom wall with photographs?
She saw it coming didn't she, that you would one day decide to tear them down and when you do, and the little rectangular marks the tape leaves behind would always serve as an indication that the past cannot be scraped off

Did your mum ever warn you against slouching, did she gently nudge you in your side to stand upright with your shoulders rolled back instead?
Likewise, didn't she hammer in you this set of principles and prodded at you to always stand up for them

Did your mum ever warn you against smoking and too many McDonald's meal sets while counting on her fingers the various heart diseases they could bring?
Was that why she did all she could to shield you from heartbreaks and disappointments, she knew didn't she that the heart was just as susceptible to them as over processed meat and tobacco smoke

Did you listen.

(I haven't been writing for a while because my semester break (over the span of 3 months) has reduced my level of intelligence from 'barely coping with law school' to 'cashew nuts are good let's watch TV and have cashew nuts errrrrrrday hello there is that a slice of cake i see yum yum' and all that has to change now)

(Classes started today but I booked my flight ticket a little late)

I need to do better.

this makes me sad

a year ago.

A year ago, on the 13th of February, I was an hour (plus) late for a date.

Our (and also my) first date (in my life)

I think I'll stop right here.

Because a high degree of guilt is an inborn trait of mine, that night, I became his girlfriend to compensate for making him wait for an hour (plus) at a McDonald's Drive Thru. (you can only make a sundae cone last so long)

JK.

But he did send me this

Also, a year ago, he requested for a blog post about our date.

I said okay but I never did get around to it. Because that is the sort of person I am.

I think I'll stop right here too.

Happy One Year my favourite person and best friend.

most of the time it's a struggle to not give up on everything.

most of the time I want to stay in and sleep for a week straight but I can't even manage 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

most of the time I wish-

for things I'll never get.

my personal statement

for the past hour, my fingers have been lingering over the keyboard, occasionally clicking sounds can be heard, they start off hesitantly, pauses between words such as 'ambitious' 'career' and 'thought-provoking'', then forcefully as the delete button is punched at repeatedly

I cannot make myself accommodate such words to so effortlessly frame a lie depicting the person I am not.

I cannot do this personal statement.

If I didn't have an audience to impress, my personal statement would be a compilation of my daily tweets and a couple of my blog posts

- etc :

 1. I just really need a degree. After all I am in my second year and I am paying my fees and a string of Bs is decent right??? You have to take me in! *voice escalates 5 pitches higher
(me arguing on a case)

2. I wanted to write for a living. I suppose it was the peak of my unrealistic phase of attempting to be ambitious before settling for law. Of course I was 10 and into Enid Blyton.
(me on my ambition(s))

3. I wouldn't claim to be highly interested in politics but I would say a good 50% of my Facebook/Twitter friends are judging by the amount of 'Results from Anwar's case' and Sedition charges' posts I have to wade through on my newsfeed. Occasionally I click on them and skim through the contents. Admittedly only if more than 50 people share the same post and I resort to doing it out of curiosity.
(me if they insist on inquiring into my involvement in politics)

4. I do sympathise with the oppressed and victims of injustice. But really, last semester I had to draft an employment contract and brief a case on behalf of a disgruntled ex-employee and still, I stay silent when I don't get paid months after a job.
(me if they question me on my stand in fighting for women/children rights)

This personal statement will get me places.

I get so frustrated nowadays. Sometimes it happens between a 'Hi' and 'How are you'.

Maybe I'm just really bored with everything around me.

I'm only at page109/1318 of Murakami's 1Q84.

I should start writing better pieces instead of updating this whiny 12 year old's diary of a blog.

5

here are a few of my greatest feats today :

1. washed my hair under 25 minutes

(Truth - I was aiming for 45 minutes because I had nothing to do for the rest of the day but you can only shampoo and condition your hair along to Iggy's Work for so long before your arms start aching)

2. finished about 750ml of soy milk at 10pm

(Truth - It's 1am now and I finished the entire carton, thats 1litre which only sounds slightly more comforting than 1000ml)

3. am at episode 48 of The Empress of China

(Truth - I'm starting to have dreams in which everyone has porcelain like features and are dressed in robes and are adorned with head ornaments)

4. ate 4 bars of chocolate

(Truth - I don't even regret my actions)

5. managed 2 minutes of The Bold & The Bootiful Workout! by blogilates before shuddering and collapsing onto the couch

(Truth ^)


well that's it. I think 5 is a good number to stop at. No one adds 6 or 9 items to a list. The thought of it makes me twitch. Lists should always end at 5 or 10 or 20.

(Truth - 5 is all I have)

I think I'll start on my UCAS application and get my driving license sometime this week.

(Truth - Right now I have my hair pushed back, a face mask on, and am seated in a fairly unflattering position that manages to enhance both my double chin and the size of my thighs) 

Yes goodnight.

in real life

In real life, I am barely 5 feet 1. And I place much emphasis on the 1.

In real life, I have unruly hair that requires frequent wash & blow visits at the saloon.

In real life, I slur my words and my voice escalates to a higher pitch when I get excited.

In real life, I get excited a lot.

In real life, I would dash across a street oblivious of incoming vehicles to pet a puppy.

In real life, I squeal 'omg shit' a lot.

In real life, I spend 10 frustrated minutes jamming a key in the wrong direction before unlocking a door

In real life, I have an affinity for starting my sentences with 'hey do you wanna know about' and trail off with 'oh never mind's.

Would you like me in real life

I like cake.

Griffiths Cafe Pastries Project : Michelle's Kitchen 

Hello there. So I am no baker. Neither can I tell the difference between self-rising and all-purpose flour (even when the packaging is labelled with capitalised letters) But if there’s one thing I’m sure of is the making of a good dessert (Thank you Mum for the many years of cake tasting and cookie batter eating opportunities you granted to me) (Also I wake up to the smell of freshly baked pastries almost everyday)

No I’m not Michelle. (very obviously obvious*) and I don’t own a kitchen (yet or anytime soon). 

*sorry if my grammar made you cringe I really had to make a point

That’s all my Mum. I would sit her down for an interview but it’s 2.15AM now and the only time my Mum is awake at 2.15AM is because she has cakes/pies to be baked. Not even kidding. 

So for every dig you take into that slice of cake with your fork, every mouthful of the perfect balance of sweetness = pure passion 

(lol)

At this point I should be in shame of the addition of 'can't make a cake without making a wrong calculation of the weight of butter needed' to my long list of Melisa's incapabilities.

Don't worry. If you order a cake, I won't be making any measurements.

I just take a lot of photos. and blog. and eat a lot of cake.

 Mum and Holland Pie 

(if you noticed I don't do food descriptions because it's something I can't manage well usually I end up listing all the ingredients, etc upon biting into this pie you will discover blueberries, almonds, cream cheese...)

my Mum shouldn't know about the use of her photo on my social media accounts in fact she shouldn't know about any of my social media accounts kidding 

maybe I aspire to convert everyone into having a 80% cake diet.

I can tell that it's working.

Louie who once claimed ' Who would eat cake, cake is horrible, cake is not food' (yes till today I gasp in horror) had cake cravings a couple of days ago. 

There he was sitting on the couch, casually looking up and saying 'I feel like having cake'

*shiny eyes

*rubs hand in glee

Yes anyway. 

to join our cult

In case you happen to have such cravings *intense stare

contact us! 

Social Platforms :

Instagram @ michellekitchen_gf

Facebook Page @ http://www.facebook.com/michellekitchengf

Email @ michellekitchengf@outlook.com

Contact Number @ +60198188438

Goodnight ! 

*more intense staring

#AppreciationPost1

Once, in the midst of a conversation in the car,  Louie swivelled around -

(yes he manages to spin around in the driver's seat the same way one would in an office chair, also he is equipped with the talent of multitasking, etc - scrolling through Facebook, pinching both my cheeks, rapping to some nigger song, reading song lyrics, checking Waze and ignoring me, all while manoeuvring through a collection of vehicles, portholes and traffic lights)

(I might be exaggerating I might not be)

(He drives me everywhere since I have yet to attain the minimum degree of skills required to handle a car on my own on roads beyond the boundaries of my neighbourhood without being a liability to everyone else)

(in other words, I can't drive)

- and said : 'Do you know what you're really really really good at?' -

(he doesn't usually use a word thrice in a row so he must have really wanted to make a point)

- Me : '*rearranges facial expression to portray the right amount of abashment and delight in anticipation for the flow of compliments* Mhmmmmmm?'

Him : 'You're really really really good at......................... Instagram'

(I still find this amusing 4-5 months later)

I mostly Instagram the better bits of my life, on good hair days, pricey brunches, planned celebrations, array of cakes on display, smiley faces. Sometimes they're filtered so prettily, with all the right setting and lighting, perfect balance of contrasts of colours, they feel so irrelevant. 

The thing about you, is that in no way do I discount our downs. I can't add a fancily named filter to distract away from the flaws or blur out the blemishes. Can't crop out that bit you don't want in your picture. You just learn to stop emphasising on them and start accepting it all.

and it's not hard to do so when the ups outweighs everything else, and it's you.

p/s: this is from the girl who was adamant about turning into a spinster with 50 dogs because 'the whole relationship thing is a lie' and 'what is love if it's not cake'

You're so much better than cake and quesadillas *,*

Also you're my #AppreciationPost1

Hehehehehe. Sorry for the online PDA!

Do you not know the recipe for a concoction so potent it acts as well as any explosive out there?

A 4 seconds interval between about a lifetime of sharp words, an angry person, grudges, and a slip of the tongue.

Do you not know the kill switch for this bomb?

Because I do not.

do better

when you'd been out an entire day, and at the end of it all you want is the familiar left turn into the street you live in, the welcoming sight of the driveway, to swing the front door open, to step into a 20 minutes long hot shower and work up a lather of scented body wash and shampoo, to hear the thud of your body collapsing in relief onto your bed.

to have all the dirt and grime of unpleasantness from the outside world all fervently scrubbed at and scraped away, washed down the drain hole.

I wish I could do that with my life right now. Strip the past 20 years away and start from scratch.

I could do so much better.

Relationships with others, 

we misrepresent them to be more durable than they really are, making them out to be this barrage, an endless stretch of concrete wall furnished with steel poles, when most of the time, parts of this wall have been rendered paper thin from unresolved arguments, cracks have found their way in through discontement, and water starts seeping out, first in trickles, then a steady stream, until enough pressure builds up against this wall and it collapses. 

But it's okay. Everyone else saw this coming. They tell you to evacuate, to steer clear of this place, to isolate yourself, to give yourself time, because this wall can be rebuilt. 

Relationship with yourself,

they're a dependable source, a place of refuge, you're there to mend and plaster away at the first signs of a threat.

so it's disconcerting, to be detached from yourself. You shouldn't disconnect with an entity you belong to.

sometimes, the feeling of isolation is so intense, it's almost like I'm looking at myself from a distance.

and I do not like what I see.

and I really want this to stop.

It's day 4 of finals and into the 2nd paper and the welt on my left finger has swelled up to an alarming size.

So has the pimple on my right cheek. 

(this is how exhausted I look now and I was sweating from carrying so many books around uni and ended up collapsing outside of the exam room)

and because I am horribly uncreative and tired I'm copying and pasting all my finals related tweets here 

-Wish I were going to Korea too instead of being stuck in this horrible room with criminal law to study (Louie went to Korea for a week I'm sorry I like to stick to him all the time I should stop I have criminal law)

- Bought so much chocolate milk (Ashley in reference to me dumping 1litre of chocolate milk on the counter in 7-11 ; "you're getting that?? I'm not judging btw")

- The amount of studying I have to do now till 3pm tomorrow is giving me serious depression (tweeted this at 10.25pm and nopes i did not study till 3pm the next day)

- Bad things happen to lazy people (yup it does)

- drank so much coffee my hands are shaking so bad I swear I'm not on drugs (I drank 5 cups too many that day)

- I think I have this permanent grumpy expression (I'm just grumpy. in general)

- my face is just so bad (or has it always been this way hmm)

- I feel really bad for people who have to see me in this unwashed hair and sleep deprived state (I really do)

- I'm so tired really I have never been so drained (I say that every semester every finals every assignment every class every weekday every hour)

- You know you're hideous when you haven't taken a selfie in almost a week and when you try to you have to direct the camera away from your face (selfie above was done with good lighting and numerous attempts and it still turned out hmm)

- wow so tired I actually fell asleep for 2 hours and woke up with drool on my laptop (yup drool stain still there)

- this is me going out with glasses, chocolate milk stained sweatshirt and house slippers because i really do not care anymore (went out to get more chocolate milk btw)

-the size of the pimple on my face is directly proportional to the amount of stress I'm facing, you can say it's about to take over my face (yup)

I think I'm funny.

Not really.

the rate I consume chocolate coated peanuts at is worrying.

oh ya Finals is more worrying.

you and I

You sit there, elbows propped on the kitchen table, head resting on the back of your hands, you inch forward expectantly, your gaze fixed steadfastly on my lips, on every movement they make, almost as if you anticipate each letter forming the words I utter to be visible, and you can't wait to delve in to them.

You're so untainted, so unsuspecting, you don't even hesitate to wonder for a moment if you'll be let down by what I am about to deliver.

I haven't missed you much. You're insecure, so afraid to do what others do with ease. I would tell you to stop, that your appearance really shouldn't matter that much, but I won't. You're dreamy, your aspirations cross the line between impressive to being mostly unrealistic. I would feed you all these cliches, would reblog a thousand motivational posts on Tumblr, but I won't.

I might appear superior to you, but I'm not. I'm mostly like you, a bit more, a bit less.

and I don't even have that much to say to you so I'll just stop here.














You, are my 12 year old self.

I, am my 20 year old self today.


I hope you're not too disappointed with myself because I am.