testing testing

wow, this thing still exists!! if a blogger blogs and no one is around to read it, is it still a blog?

who's fault is it?

i had the opportunity to join slutwalk last weekend and it felt good to be there. as a rally newb, i'm still shy about yelling, clapping, dancing in public and yes, making myself heard but hopefully i'll overcome those fears with a few more. there's been quite a bit of press coverage and as often as i tell myself not to read article comments, it happens occasionally (sigh). and while there are thousands of people that get it, there are probably 10x more that don't. the ones that say "well, what do you expect? that's what you're going to get if you dress like a slut." GAH. (...which reminds me of the very mysognist and sexist responses to alexandra wallace's rant on asians in the library. did she deserve those responses because she wore a tight revealing top? but more on that another time)

why do so many of us 1) forget that rape isn't actually SUPPOSED to happen 2) learn techniques like walking with a key inbetween your fingers "just in case" and think that's NORMAL? it's almost become second nature to me for alarms to go off in my head if i sense something off around me. maybe i'll walk faster, cross the street, go somewhere with more lighting, put those keys between my fingers and unlock my phone for quick dialing... and while i do recognize that our streets are relatively "safe," this is no where good enough. are the police there to serve and protect when they are slut shaming and sending the message that the women that get raped, assaulted and sometimes killed...DESERVE IT?

when reading about rape culture, i've often thought about what the process might be like in reporting a rape, or going on trial and being questioned about my own sexual history. would i lose credibility? would they think that my history of drinking and clubbing in short skirts makes me more susceptible to assault? does the number of men i've dated and slept with make me more deserving of rape cuz clearly, i love men and was probably asking for it? will they question my politics and say that my openness about sexuality and gender probably sent the message to potential rapists that i'm open for business?

just thinking about all this makes me wonder whether i would report a rape or sexual assault. isn't the very act of having your own body violated by another damaging enough? do we have to go through the process of public slut shaming too in an attempt to bring about "justice?" i don't know about you but i see absolutely no justice in that.

pedagogies, rubrics and plain old learnin'

...how does one learn?

i'm wondering this question hard these days. i'm trying to understand why i long to be in that ivory tower and admire those who are there so much. the truth is, i think most people would say that they learn the most outside of this thing we've constructed called the academy and yet, my heart is feelin' those pangs.

why isn't it enough to ponder, read, experience and discuss things on one's own? why do i feel like i need to be in a classroom to really engage with issues? why doesn't knowledge feel legitimate until it's chopped, snipped, edited and formatted into a double spaced 12 to 15 paged paper bearing a thoughtful yet vague title that you hope will strike the intrigue and fancy of your colleagues and garner a "wow, i'd love to read that!" why do i NEED to get that A? ...why isn't real life enough?

...and why am i thinking so $*@&#* much!?

i've lingered and have been lurking at the periphery for a long time. reading and getting angry on my own, trying to make sense of things with friends, ...sporadically blogging and reading blogs...

my consolation/response to a lot of things is "well, your heart is in the right place." i guess i'm trying to make sure my heart is truly in the right place before i pursue these things i've wanted for so long.

so...heart, what is it that you are really longing for??

things.

i don't know what it means to grow
when growing means to grow apart
from things you once loved
i don't know what it means to have community
when you don't know yourself
and what you're looking for
i don't know how to understand this longing
for things i once found comfort
and safety in, things i still have
i don't know why i am mourning a loss
that i've created in my head
but feel in my heart
i don't see the line between reality
and melodrama because these melodramatic
tears in my eyes are real
i don't know who i am becoming
with these hackneyed ideas
and fanciful dreams
i don't know where this resentment
comes from but it
hurts
i don't know how to keep myself
in check when it means
feeling the shame of a hypocrite
i don't know how to navigate this
world with these new ways of seeing
and old ways of feeling
i don't know how to accept these
new revelations about myself
i so readily share
i don't know how to learn
how to love those around me and
what i am becoming
...i just don't know

This time, last year...

I went for a swim tonight, something I did a lot last year. I've been making excuses for the past few months for not getting my ass down to the pool/gym and doing some exercise - "I'm too busy/tired/hungry," "it dries out my hair" (IT REALLY DOES!), "it hurts my shins" and the list goes on. I remember a time last year when I craved being in the pool. Squeezing in a 20 minute swim after getting home from work at 9:30pm was probably what kept me sane. When I was stressed, I swam.

Tonight when I was back in there, I started thinking of how things have changed in the last year. It's crazy enough to look back at the last six months but the last year?

Holy smokes.

Actually, I can tell you exactly what I was doing one year ago today thanks to my trusty 2010 dayplanner: I was on vacation in Hong Kong and hanging out with three of my friends in Central. We went to Tsui Wah for food, shopped a little and had frozen yogurt. I had been in Hong Kong for about a week already and was dreading going back to work. I hated my job. There were some people I liked but I haaated my job. I had literally been counting down to the trip back to Hong Kong for 6 weeks and was enjoying every single second. In addition to enjoying home, I relished in not commuting to Scarborough five times a week and waking up with a scowl on my face.

This time, last year, I was also in the process of mending a bruised ego...I wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction of bruising my heart. I was lonely and angry at myself. I tried to remedy it with the only ways I knew how and it certainly didn't help. I also filled my months with trips to look forward to. Right after Hong Kong would be our epic Gheeto reunion with three of my best girl friends from high school. After that trip was another trip to New York. I took any chance I could get to get away from the humdrum of my routine. I make it sound like I was miserable. I definitely wasn't but there was definitely a certain dissatisfaction that was driving my behaviour.

Then I started swimming, gymming and eating a little better. I tried to make a lifestyle change in more ways than one. I even started applying for a few jobs here and there instead of just complaining about my shitty job. I had two interviews for a job and was hugely disappointed when they didn't even bother to let me know I didn't get the job. They informed me after the new staff member was introduced in their monthly newsletter but now I see it wasn't the best job for me.

This time, last year, I never ever would have imagined that I would be where I am right now. I probably wouldn't even have let my mind go there because I didn't think it was possible. And I'm continually thankful for how things have happened and fallen into place. I have a job that I could only have dreamed of having last year. I work with people that constantly inspire me. I'm learning something new every single day. I've had opportunities to do things I never thought I was capable of.

And one year ago today, if you asked me who my ideal partner would be, I would've laughed in your face and said it doesn't matter what I think cuz it ain't gonna happen. Well, I found that person, but way better :)

It all sounds cheesy and fairytale-like but things are certainly not perfect. I go weeks at a time feeling unmotivated and unenergetic (like right now!). I constantly struggle with my own issues of self confidence. I'm impatient with myself and others (eeps). I am still moody as hell and lazy as f*ck at times. I'm still filled with anxiety, especially since I don't know what I'll be doing in six months. When I worry, I bite the skin on my fingers til they bleed.

I'm still the same person...but with a few more lines to add to that resume and a little more perspective. I'm trying to believe that I deserve the things I've gotten and that I'm here for a reason. But when those anxieties get the best of me and I'm struck by the crippling fear that it will all go away, I'm reminded of the me from one year ago, that didn't think good things were possible until they actually happened. Sometimes those things just need time to unfold.

Just imagine...where you might be one year from today. It could happen.

Kids these days

I did some outreach at a youth anti-racism conference today (didn't even know those existed!) and I think it was my first encounter with Toronto high school youth, ever, and the first time I've interacted with young people since I was in high school myself. Yeah, it's been a while and even though I find myself getting annoyed and muttering "them kids" more and more these days, what I saw today really inspired me. I've been missing out.

And since I have trouble structuring my paragraphs, I'll list out my observations and realizations in elaborated point forms :D

1) These young people are busy! I talked to a few, and while they were probably the keenest ones of the bunch, I got an idea of how much these teenagers are involved in their communities. Some of these youth are involved in 4-5 different initiatives, where they are leaders, educating and reaching out to their peers. Like, whoa. I remember doing the annual charity run for cancer...and yeah, that was about it. The true spirit of volunteerism was lost on me.

2) What a difference one teacher can make. My parents and brother will probably say "I told ya so" when I tell them this. As much as I've been trying to fight it, I do feel the inklings to become a teacher. Maybe not quite a highschool teacher but to have the same kind of impact. One kid (is it okay to call them kids?) said that he has one teacher that brings the youth out to these kinds of conferences and gets them involved in all different kinds of volunteer work. From the sounds of it, this teacher is a mentor to a lot of kids. A lot of pressure to be that kind of a role model but the rewards must amazing.

Another said that one of her teachers, who's openly gay, has also taken the students to an anti-homophobia conference where they learned about different types of oppressions and the kind if discrimination faced by those who don't identify as 'straight.' The student is also starting a Gay Straight Alliance group at her school. She is who I wish I could have been back in the day. What some of these kids are learning at 15, is what I've slowly had to learn in my 20s.

3) Youth are not the leaders of tomorrow, but the leaders of today. Okay, I stole that line from someone who quoted the Governor General Michaelle Jean. There's not much to elaborate on that one but I just wanted to throw that in there so I'll remember it in future days.

And I talk about youth like I'm not part of that group myself. While the years have taken their toll, I have to constantly remind myself that I'm somewhat of a young'un too...full of ideas, potential and hope. Hope that we really can make a difference and that it is our right and responsibility to reclaim the spaces that have been taken away from us.

Kids, let's do this.

**On another note, perhaps it's time I change the name of this blog. Maybe to something more hopeful? Mmmm nah.

Mid year resolution

Smart decisions only for the second half of 2010 (or third quarter??)! Who's with me?

A mile away

It's that Manifesto time of year again. Time for bboys, graf artists, community activists, performers of all kinds and appreciators of hip hop to gather for seven days of events, including free concerts, bboy battles and a filmfest, which I got to check out tonight.

The first documentary was called Invisible City:
"In the inner-city housing project of Toronto's Regent Park, Kendell and Mikey, like their surroundings are in the process of transformation; the environment and social pressure tempting them to make poor choices, their mothers and mentors rooting for them to succeed. Turning his camera on the often ignored inner city, Academy-award nominated director Hubert Davis sensitively depicts the disconnection of urban poverty and race from the mainstream."

Although it ran a little long, the documentary was moving and, I hate to say it but, eye-opening for someone as ignorant as I am of the challenges that other marginalized communities face. You hear about places like Regent Park, St. Jamestown, Jane and Finch and it's easy to forget how close we are geographically yet how we are seemingly worlds apart.

Sidenote: One particular scene that my friend and I talked about afterwards was when Kendell spoke with his guidance counselor about possibly moving from his current math class to a more advanced one, having received a 75 in his previous semester. She tells him that although he did well in the last class, she's not sure if he can make that jump to such an advanced class. In other words, no son, don't even bother trying harder because you WILL fail. Geez fuckin' louise. It reminded me of Malcolm X telling his grade school teacher that he wanted to be a lawyer, to which she replied, that wouldn't be "a realistic goal for a n*****." Malcolm wrote that he knew his teacher thought she was trying to be helpful by setting realistic goals for him but really, what all kids need in the least is someone that believes that they can do great things. Anyway, back to the point.

Regent park is one mile away from my apartment. Suddenly the "inner city" doesn't seem so far away. Issues like affordable housing, gentrification, social welfare, racial profiling, police/gang/youth related violence are a little more relevant and get uncomfortably close. As I sit here on my Mac, in my Ikea furnished apartment (paid for by my parents), getting ready to go to bed for another day of working in my bougie/borderline hipster office, I wonder, what am I really doing to make things 'better'?

I talk about social justice and probably mention the words civic engagement 15 times a week but really and truly, something like this just puts it all into perspective. We do what we can, for whichever communities we choose to engage in. We try to do our part. Our lives continue, we work, we play, we sleep. The days slip by and we lose ourselves in what matters in our lives. At the same time, those communities in our midst that are being demolished under the guise of "revitalization" begin to feel even more foreign, like it's in another city.

But once in a while, you remember they really aren't that far away. This is happening right next to us and we AREN'T worlds apart. These are our neighbours, the people we see on the street, the "thugs" we avoid sitting close to on the TTC, the news stories we read with our morning coffee.

And you realize...it's happening right here. Now that's real life.

It brings into perspective what needs to be changed in this city. It makes me think more about who will be the best leader to do that for this place we live in. This isn't just the Toronto I live in, it's the Toronto we all live in. ...Okay all this thinking is giving me a headache at 1:12am.

I should also mention, after all this gloom and doom, that throughout the documentary, there is also the underlying message of hope. Hope in a person's potential and hope that good things can and will happen, and that, I believe, is something we can all relate to.

Here's the trailer. I can't be bothered to try and make it fit but check it:

Be a man, do the right thing.

I know I have all of two readers but I just had to put up this blog post I just read, which pretty accurately describes my feelings towards the concept of what it means to be a man and to "man up." He speaks the truth. Read and you shall learn :)

***

When She Says Man Up, She Has No Idea What She’s Talking About

from Until I Get Married by Jozen

I know some strong women.

Hard women, who put up with absolutely nothing.

These women call out their male friends for falling for another girl all quick, or roll their eyes whenever they hear a man is hurt over something another woman did. They are quick to tell men to man up and quit crying. A man gets sensitive over something a woman won’t get sensitive about, and she tells him there’s no need for all the sensitivity; starts bringing up all the ways a woman has it harder than a man and if she’s okay, he should be too.

She’ll say, “Man up.” The next time she says that, this will be my response…”Shut up.”

About a month ago, I tweeted out the following:

Gotta love how girls crack jokes on men who cry like girls but then turn around and cry when men act like men.

I have always said if a woman understood how difficult it is for a man to get to a place where he starts showing his feelings, she would never discredit him for doing so. A lot of men don’t have it in their DNA to wear their heart on their sleeves, so when we do, women should either try to help us out or step aside and let us figure out the problem ourselves. Any efforts short of those two should be saved for a later time when she and he can look back on the moment and laugh about it.

Coming from me, this may sound like some sort of defense. Anyone who has read this blog long enough knows I have no problem sharing my feelings on anything. I have no problem admitting when I have cried. I have no problem saying the last time I cried won’t be the last time I cry. I have no problem saying even if I hurt someone, I hurt myself in the process. None of this is because I want to throw some pity party. All of it is because I want women to understand not all men are stone cold, emotionally inept individuals who only get passionate about things like the playoffs.

Every time I pour my hear out, there’s always one comment from some woman who says something like, “Oh man up,” and I’m pretty sure she has absolutely, positively no idea what manning up is really about. But this isn’t for those commentators. This is for the women those commentators represent; the type of women who think they’re being critical but are only being comical.

I know some women would like to think they know what a real man is, but I’m pretty sure they either get their idea from television and the movies, or they get it from the men in their families, which is legit. A woman who wants a man like her father or uncles or brothers should go out and get that, especially if there are men out there who want women like their mothers, but I digress…

What this really is about is women who think they know what it is to man up and their narrow, dogmatic schemes of manhood. A man shouldn’t cry here, and a man should know exactly what to do there. All this nonsense makes me want to ask some women to throw me their copy of “Man Laws” and match it up with mine because sometimes I swear these women have an outdated version.

First we should act like a man. Then we should act like a grown man. I’m falling for none of it anymore. There are some blanket statements I have made in past posts about all women that may not apply to all women, but there is one blanket statement I can make about women that I know I am absolutely right about.

No woman knows what it’s like to be a man, not one has the faintest clue.

When a woman starts spouting off at the mouth about how a man wasn’t acting like a man and wasn’t doing what he was supposed to do as a man I get this sudden urge to challenge her to an arm wrestling match. She thinks because she plays with the big boys every now and then, she knows what it’s like to be a big boy. Little girl, please. If you’re one of those women who really think you’re more of a man than the next man, then by all means move on to the next man because what you really want is a man who’s right for you, not more of a man.

No real man will let another man tell him how to be a man, so he for damn sure won’t let a woman do it either. I was raised by a man from the old school, but I spent my whole life trying to disprove his old school notions of manhood. I didn’t think, and I still don’t think, there’s only one way for a man to be. I think there’s the man that I am and then there’s the man other men are, and if a woman wants to date me she needs to understand it is a wholly unique version of masculinity not made in the mold of her father, brother, uncle, best friend or Don Draper.

To me, telling a man to man up is like telling a woman to woman down, and start only doing things like cook or clean or both at the same time. And that doesn’t sound so 2010, does it?

As far as I’m concerned, a real man stays true to himself, his feelings, his beliefs, and his principles, and to man up is to never fall back on any of those things. If a woman can’t understand that, then oh well, looks like I was probably too much man for her.

***

Amen Jozen. Not only is that what it means to be a real man but a real woman too.

Oi

What do you get when you mix an Asian person's stomach (first thing in the morning) with:


Picture my face here -->



Where the Pepto and common sense at?

Big girls don't cry?

Whatever Fergie Ferg. Maybe that would be true if we were all swimming in dollah dollah billz, married to Josh Duhamel and had an ass that won't (wouldn't?) quit but we do cry. And as intelligent, capable and ambitious as we are, sometimes we also feel utterly hopeless and defeated.

Maybe it's because we've always been taught that becoming an adult means being thin and beautiful, having nice things, getting the right education, finding the 'perfect' job, meeting the 'perfect' man and knowing exactly what you want to do with your life so that you can live happily ever after. And maybe because of that, we hold ourselves to impossible standards and when things don't go our way, we feel like we've failed and that there is something wrong with us. And whether we're striving to be the perfect daughter, sister, girlfriend, co-worker, student or friend, no matter how hard we try, there are moments when we make mistakes and so many times when there are elements that we can't control.

I've never thought of myself as a perfectionist. My sentences have typos, I don't always double check things after I'm done and I am unfortunately not as detail-oriented as I'd like to be (seriously, best employee ever) but when it comes to certain things, in my delusions of grandeur, I think I can be perfect, or even worse, I think I AM perfect. I know, nutso right? When I inevitably fall from grace, I question everything. What's wrong with me? Am I not good enough? Could I have done things differently?

I always initially take things too personally and blow it way out of proportion but usually after a few hours (or days...or weeks) and conversations with friends and fam, I take a few steps back and eventually come to accept that:
1) Shit happens and there are many things we can't control
2) We're human and we are not perfect
3) Those imperfections don't cancel out the awesome
4) We will and can be better because we are in control of our own choices
5) We might make mistakes again and shit might keep happening but we're trying.

It's really not that we don't know how blessed and capable we are, but sometimes we do forget because real life gets in the way. We forget, but your friends don't. Your family doesn't. And the fog eventually clears and you realize that you don't have to be perfect but you come pretty damn close because you've persevered, gone for what you want and won't settle for less.

I'll probably read this and everything else I've written in five years and say "Whoa, drama queen!" but hopefully at the same time, I will also see how far I've come, in what ways I've grown and how much the friends and family around me have changed to become the people they want to be.

So for friends and others who are going through rough times cuz things aren't going quite as planned, remember, it ain't a crime to cry and feel like shit sometimes but know that this is just the weather and it too shall pass because I reiterate, nothing can cancel out the awesome.

And now I have to try really really hard to keep that in mind as I continue to look for a new job/apply for grad schools and try to be better to my friends, family and myself.

So what do you think, can I be the next Tony Robbins? ...Anyone? ...Anyone?

My childhood celebrity crushes

And by childhood I mean up to age 12. These were serious crushes people. And I was, and probably always be, boy crazy.

1) Zack from Saved By the Bell - the hair, the smile, those schemes and that charm. How I loved you Zack Morris and how much I wanted to be Kelly.



2) Brandon Walsh - Dylan just didn't do it for me. I guess I had a thing for boyish goodlooks. I'm pretty sure I kissed his picture in Teen Beat a couple *ahem* hundred times.



3) Will the Thrill - this crush was the real thing. Like, crazy jealous of his ex-wife cuz she got there first kinda real. Never known a love like that ever since.



4) Damon Stoudamire - As a hardcore 11 year old basketball fan from Toronto, I had to love the Raptors and he was cute as haaell. If only he wasn't so injury prone. I have his signed rookie card in a drawer somewhere.



5) Grant Hill - Along the same vein, I loved Grant Hill. I remember having a flip book, one side was Penny, the other was Grant Hill. Along with preppy looking white boys, I apparently also had a preference for muscular black men. This picture isn't from his earlier career days but he's still pretty dang fine.



So these men, readers, were the hunks I dreamt of at night (and day). Or rather, the only ones I'll admit to liking now :D Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.

And notice there's no Asian representation? Speaks volumes yo! Though I guess I had my share of eye-candy when I went to church ;) Seriously, boy crazy.

Introducing: Two fellow bloggers...

...and true friends of mine! Both of whom endured four years of English Lit at Queen's just like me, so get excited for some truly great writing. They'll have you entertained, pondering and will leave you inspired with their thoughts and ideas.

First up is my very creative buddy Dave, who writes Derfington's Corner: reflective, thought-provoking, nerdy and reads like a great article. Over the years, we've bonded over Lost, DQ, A&P Chicken, Bboying (him - bboy, me - groupie), hip hop and most significantly for me, working at the school paper. Remember his name when you hit the bookstore in a few years - the man was born with a pen in his hand. Just like the rest of us, he is trying to figure out the maze that is our twenties and he's doing it, one blog post at a time.

And then there is Simon - aka Lam See Moon, Si, Simey, Sparky and my QB - who to most, needs no introduction. Follow his blog as he explores New York this summer and continues on his way to becoming the USA's first Canadian president. Animated, inspiring and descriptive, his enthusiasm is truly infectious. I mean, who can resist when he uses phrases like "absolutely fantasically"?? But don't let the lame jokes fool you, this man is a smart cookie and is out to change the world in big ways.

So, what are y'all waiting for? Ch-ch-ch-check it.

And to my former BT neighbours, let's rock this Twilight style! Hah. Talk about lame. I told you he was infectious!

Me at age 2...or something

My mom and dad keep sending me old school photos of our family when I'm at work. I swear that's the only reason why I keep putting these pictures up. That and the fact that I used to be absofrickenlutely cute.

Lessons from my brother

Trance is to House as 50 Cent is to Hip Hop.

Oops.

You learn somethin' new everyday. Thanks Bro!

Lessons from B

Because I realized I got
Me myself and I
That's all I got in the end
That's what I found out
And it ain't no need to cry
I took a vow that from now on
I'm gonna be my own best friend
- "Me Myself and I," Beyonce

I can't say I'm a huge fan of B's these days because she's so friggin over the top but every time I hear this song, I just wanna yell "Sing it girl!" You can picture it now, can't you.

Out of all my friends, I am the most dependent on my homies. I need to talk to them, find out what's happening in their lives, give them updates on mine and just talk about completely random mundane things like what we're both making for dinner or our bowel movements (yeah I did). And when I don't talk to my good friends for a few days I really start to miss them. Heart pangs kinda missing. Like my life is different without them and I don't like it. Is that normal? I don't really know. But I've grown to accept that I'm just the type of person who is very attached to those that I care about and though I can be clingy, I will also return the favour and listen whenever they need an ear or a shoulder to cry on...or an eating/shopping/clubbing/biking/walking/gymming/tv watching buddy. Though I draw the line at movies. I will always be an SATC movie hater :P

While none of that has changed, I've also come to really appreciate the time I have on my own. I don't think I was ever that comfortable with just chilling at home or going out and doing things by myself but I am starting to enjoy the solitude. Okay, maybe solitude is stretching it but what it means to me is just taking time for yourself and doing something truly relaxing and mind-clearing. For me, that's been swimming, the occasional bike ride, taking a non-emo walk, reading outside somewhere or just hanging out at home with no agenda at all.

That used to make me anxious. I always had my tv shows to watch and books to read but the loneliness made it really hard to enjoy that time. Instead, I would make sure that someone would be online to talk to so it would be more bearable. Those feelings of loneliness are definitely magnified after some kind of heartache (a different kind of heart pain) or hormonal fluctuations but I've also started to become a person that gets excited about having that alone time. I know I already think too much..about the past, present and future, but having that time to think is a pleasure in itself. Maybe that's why I secretly enjoy those TTC rides...sometimes.

I don't quite know where I'm going with this. I still do feel lonely sometimes. I miss my fam, I miss my friends (even when we live in the same city), I miss people who used to be part of my life...but most of the time, along with all that missing, I am happy to be alone and happier that I don't feel lonely. It's weird y'know? When you realize that things you used to dread have suddenly become enjoyable. And with that realization, I'm also hopefully progressing on my whole journey of self-love (...or my slow descent into becoming a recluse). Cuz loving yourself means treating yourself well - mind, body and soul. And the alone time is good for the soul.

Which brings me to being good to my body. I really do feel bad after I eat unhealthy things. Not really cuz of the calorie factor or the disgusting feeling after overeating but the fact that I'm ingesting greasy, sugary, fatty foods and making my body suffer in the process is unsettling. Wow, how did I go from Beyonce to this. Point is, if I really do love my body and want to be good to it, would I charge into my weekends with an agenda to eat myself silly into several food comas? Eek. And would I only get 5-6 hours of sleep a night when I know I need 7-8 to feel human?

Definitely a work in progress. But once my work is done, I too will become a multimillionaire, marry Jigga and truly be my own best friend. Because that is what life is all about.

By the way...

HI DAVE!! *waves*
Love,
Bizay Hands

Throwback to Cheeky Wednesdays

This picture pretty much sums up what it used to be like (I hope it's in the past) to go clubbing with me...




As you can see, I am not in this picture.

...because I was probably off with some random eejit. Haha sad, funny and true...like most things I talk about on this blog.

Miley Cyrus, is that you?

When I first saw this picture I shamefully thought I was doing the "chinky eyes" thing but then realized that that's just what happens when you squeeze a small chubby Asian face ^_^

Is fashion sense inherited?

...Cuz I think I just found out where my love for florals, rompers, floral rompers and shoes that look like Keds comes from O_o