Let’s Misbehave.


The march towards liberation started three months ago. And the universe brought me back to the place where I first knew what passion was. Awakening, it is all about timing.

I went back in time, to Paris. Spirit soared. Love the vibes of the city, light and yet soulful. I took many walks, I hungered for her scent and her lumière.

There I found the inspiration to communicate and to connect. In a deeper way that is. Neither through captions on Instagram, nor via emoji-ranting on Facebook. I am motivated to write, for those of you who are reading this right now.

Some friends told me that my last post “The Art of (Not) Giving Up” was painfully moving. I am glad my words did something for you. The thing is, what one takes away from a piece of confession actually depends on your perspective in approaching the piece. The objective of said blog entry was to motivate people, who like me, found themselves involuntarily stuck in a moment. However it received some unfavourable feedback from certain quarters of my life, who felt I should be more discerning of what I air on my blog, even if it was a personal one.

I guess that was why I have not able to pen my thoughts since, for I was unsure of what might or might not be acceptable, anymore.

We all have our own battles to fight.

But today I’ll say, let us end the inner-struggle. For once in your life, let us go where the heart leads us. We face enough external conflicts everyday. Why then do we still want to fight with ourselves. It is simply not natural.

Don’t tell me what to do. I am tired of following rules. This is my blog. Hear me roar.

She sent me a poem she saw engraved on a park bench, an extrait from Gaston Miron’s La Marche À L’amour:
je marche à toi, je titube à toi, je meurs de toi
lentement je m’affale de tout mon long dans l’âme
je marche à toi, je titube à toi, je bois
à la gourde vide du sens de la vie
je n’attends pas à demain je t’attends
je n’attends pas la fin du monde je t’attends

Love, it is a grand experiment. One that lights up your heart in delight. One that aches your soul with longing. This is the art of waiting.

Choose pleasure, not hurt.

Make love, not hate.

Do not wait for tomorrow, wait for me.

Wait, and hope.


It’s all temporary.


My last entry was a good half a year ago. Told myself i need to discipline myself to pen down my thoughts more often. It’s healthier. Pent up emotions are too dramatic for my own good now.


I spent my 39th birthday thinking about the way I have been living each day. How “expectations” have been one of the source of my troubles. I have come to accept that we all come from such diverse backgrounds with different capabilities, it is stupid, really, if you expect to have your expectations met. Ha even that last line sounds silly.

Oh well, we learn.

Been watching Orange Is The New Black lately, and in the episode “I Am Not Ready”, Yoga Jones said this to Piper, and it really hits me.

“Do you know what a mandala is? The Tibetan monks make them out of dyed sand laid out into big, beautiful designs. And when they’re done – after days or weeks of work – they wipe it all away.
Try to look at your experience here as a mandala. Work hard to make something as meaningful and beautiful as you can and when you’re done, pack it in and know it was all temporary.
You have to remember that. It’s all temporary.”

This is why I love to indulge myself in a good story. It sets me right back on track.

Make the best out of all situations. While I am at it, make it spectacular. And then be ready to part with all of it when the time comes. Move on and not look back.

It is all indeed, temporary.

My styleXmas Weekend.

In the spirit of our current #styleXmas giveaway, I decided that one should not only dress #styleXmas but also, to live #styleXmas. I woke up this morning, stared at my minimalistic (in my mum’s words, “Walao, so empty what style is this?”) apartment, and realized there was nothing very “style” nor “Xmas” about it. Something very obvious was missing here.

And then it finally struck me.

Ok you no-life-workaholic, you need a fireplace. And a fabulous Christmas tree with lots of blue boxes underneath.

I know a fireplace is not only out of the question but would also reaffirm my state of insanity in the eyes of my loved-ones. But I do pine for the scent of a real, live and thick Christmas tree, and I should get one for myself… before …before Christmas is over. “Today”! I thought to myself with zest, yes, “procrastinate no further, I shall do it today”! There was only one problem. To do that I have to force my lazy body out of bed*. I have to face the world out there again.

[*Disclaimer: I feel so beaten after a week at work, that weekends are usually reserved for me, my bed and I.]

Far East Florist, here I come.

As in all things in my life, Kismet always plays a huge part. I immediately fell love-at-first-sight-head-over-heels-in love with this giant tree!


But as fate also never fails to play that tragic joke on me (cue all my unrequited love requiem over the past 3 decades), it soon dawned on me that the tree of my eye will not fit in my bachelorette pad. Not at all.

So I settled on this cute little 5-feet under-dog.


One clumsy hour later, with pride and joy, I placed my favorite trophy on top of the tree, and ooh la la: my own Little Black Beauty Box Tree.


After this exercise, I actually have a better understanding of what #styleXmas represents.

It is a state of mind.

It is being in the moment.

It is not over thinking.

It is an energy.


What is #styleXmas to you? Tell me through your OOTDs, on http://www.styleXstyle.com as we count down to a joyous Christmas Day 2013!