Galore

On the brink of adulthood, nursing a permanent case of wanderlust.

Someone once said to me “you’re living in a fantasy”. It’s true; it’s mine, and I’m lovin’ it!

— 2 weeks ago

First thoughts about Shanghai -

We have a pretty kick ass apartment. Our landlord has evidently put in some effort in decorating the place, with quirky posters and various artistic renditions of chairman Mao lending the rooms some character. There’s a market in the form of vendors laying out their wares on a dusty back alley and old people milling around with perfectly groomed pooches (seems typical here). Lazed hard on the first day here watching pitch perfect and eating terrible Korean food, so this place is certified cosy.

People watching could well be a sport here. Freshest memories are a trio of old men dancing with Chinese fans in the park - or random dancing in public places - a man kicking a dog (not even his!) nonchalantly and walking away, then glaring at us for looking shocked, yet another man clearing his throat and spitting repeatedly onto the metro station floor. In these cases I’m like a wide eyed child, the only one expressing amusement/shock/disgust, or any emotion at all…

I don’t know if this indicates impending culture shock but I’m going to try to enjoy this bemusement while it lasts. Which could probably be cut short by peeping Toms in bar toilets, and China’s public toilets in general (for many, many reasons). I remember someone saying Singapore is ‘Asia lite’ and this rings even more true when I see how truly pampered I’ve been at home in comparison. My definitions of ‘normal’, or ‘acceptable’ are challenged here, embarrassingly so sometimes. Singaporean me is truly spoilt.

I had this thought that Shanghai is like this big city with small village sensibilities, as if as a city they’ve been made to move forward but their attitudes and lifestyles are still playing catch up. Well that is the feeling I gather after just two days of gawking and exploring. Excited to see and discover more. In the meantime, reminder to self to reserve judgment and take it all in with an open mind.

— 4 weeks ago

#shanghai  #travel  #china 

besound:

Sometime’s the world is a tough place, the days get to you and the nights drag on, so here’s a story of a pet penguin who goes shopping.

(Source: neology, via japanlove)

— 1 month ago with 576559 notes

Is there a way to truly enjoy life? To feel more alive, consistently?

— 2 months ago

Sleepless thoughts

I frequently wish that people’s appearances were a direct representation of the goodness of their souls.

— 3 months ago

I have almost everything I want, 2013 reminds me of how blessed I truly am.

I have almost everything I want, 2013 reminds me of how blessed I truly am.

— 3 months ago

#Seoul  #Travel 
humansofnewyork:

I asked her for a piece of advice. She reached in her purse, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. It said this:

Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good. Life is too short— enjoy it. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present and the future. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.
Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about. If a relationship has to be secret, you shouldn’t be in it. 
Take a deep breath, it calms the mind. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. It’s never too late to be happy. But it’s all up to you and no one else. When it comes time to go after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer. Burn the nice candles, use the nice sheets, wear the nice lingerie, wear the nice clothes. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
Over prepare, then go with the flow. No one is in charge of your happiness but you. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: ‘In five years will this matter?’ Always choose life. Forgive but don’t forget. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
If we all threw our problems in a pile and we saw everyone else’s, we’d grab our’s back. Envy is a waste of time. Accept what you already have, not what you need. Yield. Friends are the family we choose. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.*

*Some Google sleuthing revealed the author of these tidbits to be Regina Brett: www.reginabrett.com

humansofnewyork:

I asked her for a piece of advice. She reached in her purse, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. It said this:

Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good. Life is too short— enjoy it. Cry with someone. It’s more healing than crying alone. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present and the future. It’s OK to let your children see you cry.

Don’t compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about. If a relationship has to be secret, you shouldn’t be in it. 

Take a deep breath, it calms the mind. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. It’s never too late to be happy. But it’s all up to you and no one else. When it comes time to go after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer. Burn the nice candles, use the nice sheets, wear the nice lingerie, wear the nice clothes. Don’t save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

Over prepare, then go with the flow. No one is in charge of your happiness but you. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: ‘In five years will this matter?’ Always choose life. Forgive but don’t forget. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

If we all threw our problems in a pile and we saw everyone else’s, we’d grab our’s back. Envy is a waste of time. Accept what you already have, not what you need. Yield. Friends are the family we choose. Life isn’t tied with a bow, but it’s still a gift.*

*Some Google sleuthing revealed the author of these tidbits to be Regina Brett: www.reginabrett.com

— 8 months ago with 9211 notes

humansofnewyork:

"I grew up in this house. I was actually standing right here when I first saw my husband. I was ten years old, and he came riding by on his bike, and I said: ‘I want to know that boy!’" "Is he inside?""He passed away in 2000. But we had 37 good years together." 

humansofnewyork:

"I grew up in this house. I was actually standing right here when I first saw my husband. I was ten years old, and he came riding by on his bike, and I said: ‘I want to know that boy!’" 
"Is he inside?"
"He passed away in 2000. But we had 37 good years together." 

— 8 months ago with 4052 notes

thegodmolecule:


here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
 

thegodmolecule:

here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.



In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.



The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

 

— 10 months ago with 126205 notes