Bless your heart, bless your soul

Have you ever heard ‘Hold On’ by Alabama Shakes? It’s a solid song, give it a try.

Hi, I’m sorry I haven’t uploaded anything in a while. 9 months, to be exact. No, I haven’t been pregnant. I’ve just been swept away by this tide called life and have been thrown into this ocean. I’ve been drowning
in emotion, school, work, family and friends. It’s been a hectic 9 months. As dramatic as that sounds, it’s true. But honestly, I don’t even know who reads this personal blog that I think is very obnoxious and whiny. If you do read my blog, thank you. It means something to me.

Now, I’m at that stage in my life where I’ve stopped caring (like most 19 year olds). I’m at that stage where I’m underwater. I’ve stopped drowning and I’m basically in this little oasis of murky water and sunshine, blending in together into a hazy chaos. A hazy chaos that gets clearer and more exquisite with every passing second.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love the people I love but I’m also very content with myself. I like going off by myself and doing what I love. I’ve slowly but successfully set my own pace in life and I honestly don’t care about what people think as long as they don’t mess up my meticulously calculated pace. I’ve slowly come to realise that people are religiously flawed and quite frankly, so so terrible. Obviously, so am I. However, I’ve just begin to appreciate myself. As selfish as that sounds, I believe I’m allowed to at 19 years of age. So, if you can relate to this, try not to feel the guilt. You probably deserve a little self-involvement.

Don’t forget, though. If someone crashes through your little underwater oasis, guide them. They could possibly be drowning. Never lose sight of who you really are.

Hope and hugs,
Random philosophical sophomore girl

(YES, I’M NOW A SOPHOMORE AT NYU)

What do you live for?

Has anyone asked you this? What do you live for? What makes you want to scream and shout and fills you with this light that just gives you this hope for yourself? There must be something. 

It could be as something as simple as sunshine or the rain or something as complicated and baffling like a certain individual or love in your life. 

How do you realise what you live for?

You look into your life and pick out the happiest or the saddest moments that have occurred. Moments that have affected you significantly. 

Find recurring elements, aspects, people, whatevs. 

And BAM, you’ve found your ‘what you live for’ thingie (Is there a word for this? Oh God, I bet there’s a word for this). Let’s just call it a ‘lifeline’ for now. Or we could call it ‘A weakness/strength that could possibly drive you to insanity.’

Ehhh, let’s go with lifeline.

So yeah, it sucks to have a lifeline. I mean, you have to take care of it, see if it’s strong enough, make sure it’s attached to your person at all times, and it brings misery. Lots of it. 

But it also brings happiness, hope and teaches you the ability to CARE. 

Which could also lead to disastrous situations like, oh, maybe caring so much that you accidentally set your friend on fire somehow…

Okay, no that was a bad example. 

Uhhh, I’m going to move on from this. 

What do I live for?

I live to make people happy. Which sounds false and generic but I swear I do. I love cooking and baking because apparently my food makes people happy. And that makes me happy! 

I live for food. I LOVE FOOD. FOOD IS MY THING. No seriously, I love trying new foods. 

I live for my family. Because they expect me to do my best in anything and everything I do and I believe they deserve my best. And my best is to just.. live. 

I live for this. Writing. It is the one thing I truly think I’m more than mediocre at. And I adore it. 

See ya when I see ya,

M.M. 

P.S. I’M HOME. 

P.P.S. I tried writing a billion posts over the last few months but they’re all unfinished due to fits of anger and frustration over how much I have to do in general. In life. To live. Okay, I’m going to go now.

Brownies, Banana Bread and Bad Life Choices.

Bad Life Choices by Cat DeLaura (Flatmate No.2)

1. Baking banana bread. 

2. Eating 3 quarters of the Banana bread.

3. Drink 4 cups of tea in 30 minutes.

4. Didn’t do laundry.

5. Named a non existent ghost, ‘Rose’

6. Going to the bathroom.

7. “I DON’T MAKE ANY SENSE ANYMORE.”

Nothing stays the same. But I wish it did.

Life moves on.
Whether you’re sad, or happy, or angry or depressed, life doesn’t give a flying shit and just picks up and leaves you lying in the dust.
And you can be constant, you can be the same person you always were, but that doesn’t mean that your surroundings remain constant. It doesn’t mean that relationships with people stay the same or the people themselves remain the same.
Change is inevitable.
And sometimes, beautifully so.
Or not.
The point is, you may have no control.
It may disrupt your perfect order.
Turn your life upside down.
But it is in your power to accept it and adapt to it or ignore it and live in cringing denial that will only bite you in the ass one day.
And boy, will that leave a mark.

Be safe,
Philosophical Night Owl.

Let Me Tell You Something…

I’m a weirdo. No, literally, I’m really weird. 

I love reading about love, but I don’t think true love is out there.

The whole idea of “love making” really creeps me the hell out. I mean, its sex. There are different kinds of sex, but its sex. How do you even know the difference! LOVE MAKING. I somehow hate that phrase. It makes everything sound so flowery when its not. 

See, I’m a weirdo. Most girls go AWWW at what really creeps me out. As much as I like romantic comedies, do I think my life will turn out to be one? No. My life is just comedic. Nothing romantic about that. 

Still funny as hell, though. 

Another reason I’m weird is that I love that I’m loved, but I actually don’t love that many people. I like people sure, but love? SUCH A STRONG EMOTION. It takes a lot for me to love a person. It really does. But God forbid you don’t love me. I’ll probably wallow in self pity and despair until you do. 

Thirdly, I’m weird because I hate fish. 

In my family, if you don’t like fish, you’re an abomination. Cos my mom’s from a place where EVERYONE EATS FISH. And so, YOU HAVE TO LIKE FISH. I just don’t like it okay. Fish smells weird and all the bones creep me out like I might choke and die, omg. Haelp. 

Fourthly, I’m weird because I don’t really care about having a relationship. There are all these people around me that really want to find “the one” or meet boys and hook up and have cute boyfriends while I really just want to hang out with my friends and listen to some music. Talk for a bit. I DON’T CARE ABOUT DATING PEOPLE. I REALLY SHOULD THOUGH. I NEED THE EXPERIENCE.

See? The only reason I would date someone right now is because I need the experience. 

How. Weird. Is. That.

All my love,

That Weirdo with no life.

Essentially.

Words, Food, Smiles and Late Night Conversations.

College. 

I didn’t know what to expect from it. 

Was it going to be raucous and busy like in all those cliched movies? Or was it poetic, cacophonous, windy and spectacular like how I wanted it to be. 

Its a little bit of both. Its raucous but soothing, poetic in the most subtle way and spectacular like a cliched movie. 

I. am. so. grateful.

For the people I’ve met. 

The people I’ve fallen in love with.

The sights I see. 

The surprising experiences that totally and completely blow my mind out of the water. 

The hours of laughing at nothing and just not thinking all the time.

The spontaneous adventures and planned shenanigans. 

The beautiful weather and this magnificent city. 

The hardships that come with living in this city. 

Never have I cherished something as much as this experience.

Never have I been more happy and more sad to be somewhere.

That feeling of determination and motivation? Its back.

My big dreams? They’re back.

Me? I’m back.

With a vengeance.

I’m not saying I’ve found myself. I’m saying there’s a clear possibility of it happening.

I’m doing me.

I really am.

Love from this side of the world,

Happy Girl in Pyjamas.

Detachment.

Epiphanies.
The amount of epiphanies I’ve been having this past week is so high that I can’t remember half of what they were about.
But one that I do remember is that I figured out my defense mechanism.
When I’m overtly emotional or if there’s just a smorgasbord of emotions and turmoil surrounding me, I shut down. Like my mind and my heart become two very very different things. It’s just how it is.
But goddammit I tried to cry okay? But my heart was like blah and my mind was like be practical!
So yes, too many emotions results in my heart giving up and going blah and running around in circles flapping its arms.
My organs are totes weird.
So leaving. Leaving my home. My nation. My family. My friends. My greatest loves.
How does it feel? Well, it doesn’t feel good let me tell you that.
It doesn’t feel bad either, though.
A really good friend of mine sighed and told me, “You get a second chance, you know? At everything. A second chance.”
How lucky am I ? I get a second chance do whatever I want to, my way. At the cost of my dad’s hard work and health as well.
Yes, so as well as feeling good about leaving, I also feel terribly guilty. While I’ll be living in London, one of the most expensive cities in the world, my brilliant and most beautiful father, in every way imaginable will be working to support me.
I’m a daddy’s girl. Yep. But he’s my role model.
The amount of gratitude I send towards my dad in my prayers, well wishes, etc will never be enough.
So, I won’t cry.
I won’t feel too upset. (I have to feel a little upset, I’m not completely cold and dead on the inside.)
I’ll work hard.
For my dad.
My mum.
My siblings.
My friends.
My family.
But for me as well.
I owe myself all the peace I can get.
That’s it for this installment of “OMG IM LEAVING HOW EXCITING, CAN WE JUST SIT DOWN AND SOAK THIS IN”
#NYU2017
All my love,
That Tall Girl M.

Ideal first date.

When someone asks me, “What’s the perfect first date according to you?”, I think about the million different sappy, romantic books and stories I’ve read, fictional or otherwise. I think about what my friends have gushed about and their experiences, I think about the chick flicks I’ve spent watching every weekend. I scroll through all this in my mind, and I still can’t frame what I think is the perfect date. Is it the romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by the midnight stroll in a nearby park? Is it the cheesy picnic setting with wine and strawberries and sandwiches accompanied by stargazing? Or is it the totally extravagant date where the guy goes all out and woos the heroine right of her feet with his witty charm and large bank account?
I normally just say “Oh, dinner at a restaurant and then a walk on the beach and frolicking in the waves.”
I’ll tell you a secret.
I lied.
I don’t know what the perfect first date is!
I like sitting on my bed, eating Thai curry and fried rice and watching shows like Merlin or Game of thrones or movies like Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club or reading books on Wattpad or otherwise EVERY NIGHT.
I’m a little bit of a hermit. One time, I didn’t leave my room nor put on my phone for a WEEK. Except for mealtimes. A girl’s gotta stay healthy!
I digress.
For me, a perfect first date would be going anywhere to eat, either a food cart or a Michelin star restaurant and just sitting and talking and laughing and doing stupid things. I mean if a guy took me to a park and gave me a hotdog and a coke for food followed by running around and doing nothing in particular, I’d be happy.
I love hotdogs. And Coca Cola. So I’d be happy!
Jeez, it doesn’t even have to be too romantic.
Seriously though, I would choose a cheeseburger over a filet mignon anyday for a first date.
I’m not saying I’m very easy to please, but my ideal first date would consist of easy conversation and no strained silences.
Once, a guy brought me an orange lolly and I was happy.
I mean, who doesn’t like orange lollies? I would have one everyday if I weren’t too lazy to run down to the shops and buy one.
Am I going off track again?
So yes, a guy doesn’t need to spend a ton of money or even plan too much. I’m an awkward girl, and the less complicated the date, the less wacky I’d be.
No promises, though.

Explosive.

Have you ever fallen in love so hard that its almost, well, explosive?
No, seriously, have you ever loved this person so much that when you touch you can feel that underlying sparks of electricity that illicit this burning passion within you? Yes, that can be classified as lust too but this explosiveness has something else. You may call it obsession, but I think it’s part of the truest love possible out there. It’s not only touching the person, but thinking of the person, thinking of being with the person, thinking of the welfare of the person is on your mind more than half the time. It’s also just how the person makes you feel about yourself. Does the person make you feel just, well, good? Does this person make you feel content? Maybe not all the time, but definitely for the most of it.
I believe in this kind of love. Have I had the pleasure of experiencing it? Nope, never. Does this mean I may be talking utter bullshit and this kind of love may not even be present in this ungrateful and maliciously delicious universe? Possibly. So, yes, I believe this kind of love is beautifully rare like a gorgeous exotic flower that you later find out can also kill you. But don’t we all yearn and search for this kind of love? Even though we know that it might never ever occur in our dangerously dull lives, we still have this flame of hope burning in our hearts.
I mean, I read these beautiful books that portray intricate and delicate love stories with outrageous and sinfully decadent plot twists and they all come together to illustrate a burning love and passion that lasts until the tragically addled characters become constellations in the sky.
All the classics show this kind of love that is so explosive and deep and burn with an everlasting fire but always end with some sort of tragic betrayal or gloomy death.
So does this means that this kind of love destroys you? Or does it actually lead to a happy ending?
DOES IT EVEN EXIST?
I believe it does somewhere, somehow.
But I also think its totally rare and can possibly be never found.
I am a romantic cynic.
There. I finally described me.

Diet, Looks, Acceptance? Part 2

Srs bizness.
Haha no.
So, previously I yapped about my crumbling will power and unhealthy obsession with food. Quite literally.
But then I was cleanin’ out my closet (Eminem style!) and I came across this old dress of mine. I put it on and it fit! See, these are the little things that make me happy.
Right. Who here thinks he/she is ugly atleast once a day? No one ? Good! Me too! Jaaaaasstt keedeeng.
Well if you don’t think you’re ugly from time to time, you have some amazing self esteem. Could I borrow some? I promise you I’ll give it back, probably deflated and with bird poop.
I’m not going to tell you that it always matters what’s inside. Yes, that matters too. But if you still think you’re ugly then you don’t think that physical looks don’t matter. Because it matters! Have I lost you yet? Yay? Nay? Well, I shall still proceed with this confusing jumble of ideas.
If you look in the mirror and honestly tell me there is not one thing you would change then boy (or girl), you are either a genetically engineered being or just really really REALLY secure about yourself. Yes, if a girl is really beautiful but acts like a complete two timing harlot, she’s not a great person. But boys still flock to her, still attempt to get with her and then call her a slut later on. Right. It’s not only the girls, it’s the guys too. I mean suppose there’s this gorgeous guy but he’s such a damn douchebag that you can’t stand talking to him for more than a minute! Ye Gads, all he does is blab about his hair and his brief stint at modelling at a seedy local clothes boutique and how he lifts 2 hours a day. Would you still want to make out with him? Probably, because he’s such eye candy and you’re desperate enough.
Yes, I look at myself in the mirror and I want to change a million things about myself but life moves on. The hot girl gets the hot guy and they have hot kids who go on to get with hot peeps. A whole lot of hotness, a little less common sense.
But pride yourself over this, you have friends. You have a moderately happy family. You have food. And you have a damn good brain that lets you create happy images.
I really don’t think “We accept the love we deserve”
I think we accept any kind of love coming our way because child, love is rare. Any kind of love. So if someone loves you in any way, accept it! You don’t need to return it but you could try.
But if a creepy looking old guy comes up and tells you he loves you, RUN, MUTHAFUCKA, RUN.