Roti fluffs

As I type this, I am no longer a uni student. It’s only been slightly over 2 months and I still have a bit of separation anxiety from that 7 year journey of tertiary education. Am I really that sick? But in all seriousness, it’s a big relief. HUGE in fact, to no longer have to scramble to my readings after a vigorous 8 hour day of corporate bullshit in the office.

I have been doing some serious reflections over the past couple of months since it ended, especially on the last 6 months. In all seriousness, that monumental 6 months made all my ‘cries’ on ‘hardship’ and ‘mental strength’ from 2018 and before look like a joke. Newsflash is that my dad, who was a stage 4 lung cancer patient, pulled through his last scan with no cancer cells found. I know. absolutely. monumental. God is amazing and prayers are powerful. But just after 2 days of celebration, I discovered, through a random decision to scan my boobs, that the lump I had in my right breast in 2016 was back. hoo, ray.

If anything, seeing my dad pull through made me less fearful about what I have. I know God is sovereign. Yes it felt shit at first, but just like all the other days, I told myself that I have no time to lose and wallow in self-pity because, life. just. goes. on.

If I were to sum up the past 6 months, it’d be like the preparation of one of my favourite Malaysian delicacies, the roti.

Image result for roti canai making

I felt being tossed and stretched in every direction possible, whacked down to the ground with so much force and heat and before I can recover, whacked across again. I have lost the number of times I was whacked and tossed, but I knew that each time I did, I got up.

But like every good piece of roti, with each toss and stretch comes a fluffier layer, with every strong landing on heat comes a crispiness essential for the taste. In hindsight, I see God’s purpose in this, despite the pain and hurt through this process of trying to keep myself together in the absolute shittiest of times, God has a good receipe.

If anything, I am grateful for 2019. I’m thankful for these struggles and the times I made myself get out of bed to get to work instead of calling for a sick day (which my manager has generously allowed in my circumstance). I am proud of myself to stick to my readings and pull through my last exam strong, despite the burnt out nights after work and dealing with the troubles at home. These are things pre2019 Juan would never know she could do. I still remembered the day I found out about my dad’s condition and breaking down in a way I never knew was physically possible, I literally had my world fall apart in slow motion in front of my eyes. Something I had only seen in movies but never replicated in real life, it’s like fiction of cancer which I always saw on screen had swarmed out from the TV and into my life.

I never knew what real insomnia was till this year, what loss of appetite meant and that you could actually get a migraine from crying. I pulled through. It was a mental stretch, literally a roti cooking session but just in an emotional and mental form.

That being said, I am so ready for 2020, as much as I am grateful for this year, I am ready to end it. 2020 doesn’t know what’s coming. I have been through the cooking season 2020, I am the fluffiest roti ever rn and boy don’t you know what’s coming.

Deranged

Ya girl is back and you know what time it is:

Exam Season = always Rant Season = mandatory stress release post

Can you believe, after 7 years and 2 universities later, this upcoming Friday will be my last ever exam, EVER. shucks if I’m not emotional I don’t know what I am.

It’s also the first day of my period today and my texts are starting to not make any senseScreen Shot 2019-10-06 at 4.05.57 pm.png

I have since perpetually pissed/confused the chat because no one is replying my question on the difference between free range and organic chicken, those chicks that they gladwrap a bit too many times to Spanx the fat out of them, WHY.

Anyways, I’ve officially entered deranged mode of my last ever exam season, and shucks I may or may not have a pre-seperation anxiety with these emotions. I really hope I’m not the only one who experience these issues, or all those people liking those exam anxiety memes on facebooks are bots.

2 universities and 7 years. that’s longer than both my primary school years, secondary school years.

I don’t know how to feel, like as amazing as it was, it wasn’t short of its lows. If you have been following this hell-bent journey since my 15 year old blogging self, why have you been wasting your time and also omgosh that’s quite creepy (pretty sure you haven’t so thank God, or seek help).

Grit.

Thats a take away from my past 7 years. I don’t know what else I can describe this journey. The amount of set-backs the devil had tried and tries to push me off track, I bounced back, slightly more deranged each time, but still on track. fight me bitch. attack me one more time. will smack shits out, full swing.

4 years ago, I almost dropped out of university altogether. But I decided to pick myself up, an emotional mess I was, I got myself into studying law (that’s the level of deranged I was at the time). 2 years into it, just when I was getting a hang of the whole “law” way of life, realising it was actually pretty lawless in terms of procedure, I received a mountain of rejections, telling me I was not good enough. 0 clerkships.

But again, I got back up, even more deranged. I got a job in the government, law enforcement should I add, litigation heavy, an area I swear in the first year of law school, I didn’t even want to touch. I participated in 0 competitions or debates throughout my entire schooling and university career. How the fk did I get into a litigation team?? Have you seen my face?? Do I look like I can enforce the law on anyone.

Just when I was settling in my job, juggling final year of study, full-time work, trying to get my fierce enforcement mode on and fit in the league, thinking I am finally getting a hang of adulting and less deranged, my dad gets diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.

Welp.

Anyways, still alive, still progressing. oh my god, He is good. The fact He has so much patience to take care of a deranged child like me, (and many more others in fact). GOSH.

Can I say, this is not an end, maybe just an end of my deranged chapter, or least deranged. You really need to be a bit deranged in life to cope with a deranged lifestyle, because life in general, is quite deranged.

Happy deranging.

 

A Timothée Chalamet, etc Rant… toodles

Okay, so my new obsession is Timotheé Chalamet and I am so damn stoked for the new Little Women film (which he stars as olden day fuckboi Laurie).

Nah but honestly I’m stoked for this because I read the novel growing up, holy shit and I am and a dead-ass sucker for period movies. There’s something about old fashion romance that makes me swoon. Like no boy is man enough to rock up in front of the door or run after you in the fields and yell back at you that he loves you too (not that it ever happened in my life, because I have no field to run in anyway, also – can’t run). Therefor, these scenes have to be lived vicariously through movies and movies alone only. Can you subtly also tell why I am currently single, yes thank you next.

People might be snickering behind my back about these bullshit I swoon over, but lemme tell you, if you think this is bad, you have not seen me at my worst. I can’t remember when was the last time I sat through a Korean Drama, yes I used to be one of those and I now honestly cannot sit through 1 episode right now without cringing. Yes. CRINGE.

I don’t know why I used to find pleasure swooning over that. But period dramas are so much more different (same concept, argue with me, but still different). There’s a different intention in the traditional way of wooing that makes me go shit where that go.

I understand there is much more ‘modernisation’ in the new remakes of these period dramas, of giving females a stronger narrative and capability of decisions. Jo March’s line in the trailer got me dead, I’m so glad it was Saorise who plays it instead of Emma. But yes, I’m living for it, I know there’s a bit of controversy surrounding pro-feminism movement but HEY, LOOK, NOTHING WRONG WITH WOMEN KNOWING HOW TO DO SHIT.

Carey Mulligan is one of my absolute fave across all the British actresses in the period drama category (sorry Keira I love you too), I cannot get over the storyline in Far from the Maddingcrowd and it is by far the most underrated period movie so I am right now promoting and letting you know, go, watch.

Back to Little Women, I love how they portray that these men and fukboi Laurie are so obsessed and love them strong charactered women. WHERE’S MINE. okay maybe not an obsessed one, but I feel like modern day men are more towards the side of “love me an influencer bitch with grateble abs” and “a wholesome ABC”. Who somehow boasts to be a feminists, demand respect, but with underlying “choke me” vibes. Loves a vegan health diet with a side bottle of red wine and a box of cigarettes. Collects 112 indoor plants, because its contributory to a good environment but really they breathe the same air as you at night and give you more CO2 in your sleep. Want to chase a career but wanna be a Hot Tai Tai at the same time (it me). 

Alright sorry, not tearing anyone down (but I did), but this culture does give me a laugh in my excessive stressed out life. I’ll wait, I know my Timothee Chalamet issa round the corner, RUN FASTER BOI, my father want to see. (real one is apparently seeing Lily-Rose Depp and I 100% ship, my heart will break if they break, God protect them)

Anyway, Little Women drama and rant over. I have replayed the trailer a bit too many times. Also, Downton Abbey movie is OUT SOON TOO OMG.

Okay enough, I’ll end here.

if you spent and finished 3minutes of your time enduring my nonsense, it’s a taster to my friendship, we can be friends.

Youth, Youth, Youth

So, I’m a youth leader in my local church. If you’ve been following this blog for a while and wonder how, what, why I ended up being one, we can delve into that detail later. Anyhow, one of my girls that I lead sent me a picture of a snapchat group conversation involving boys from our youth group.

Pretty nasty profanities if you ask me. My girl was mad furious, being almost a generation away from her, it took me a while to decipher 16 year old language. But the gist of it wasn’t cool, the conversation was mean, the profanities were nothing near to endearment usage. I could understand why she was hurt, after my silly as self finally deciphered the message an hour later, with the help of my guy friends that I shared the message to on a group chat I have with them.

Part of me felt silly for sharing to my guy friends, one of them also a youth leader, the others were ex-leaders (now retired due to that growing age gap). Like I just told my girl to keep it down low and here I am asking a bunch of guys my age on how to decipher 16 year old boy locker room chat.

Turns out I got the context of the chat all wrong, I had already responded to my girl in ways I shouldn’t have. Holy crap, and now she ain’t replying me. Like silly me right, if only there was a manual, for these little things, on how to deal with 16-18 year olds in current Snapchat social media culture or requiring instant replies and crap, WELP. Turns out the rude boy in the chat is the kid belonging to one of my friends, now HE has a headache too, none of us knows how to deal with it. It’s wrong, Trump like rude behaviour, but how do we go about the whole problem without SNITCHING THE SNITCH.

I would be the last person to defend ‘locker-room’ talk/language. Things like trying to ‘fuck a girl’s ass up’ like seriously, stop. I personally, with my very Asian side still fresh from all the Chinese New Year festivities, would give this child a good-ass whooping. A boy, no matter how furious he is, should not, CANNOT speak down to a girl like that. My girl is probably crying right now, she isn’t responding to my messages but do I be that overbearing youth leader who calls her up? Like what do I do?

You see, I never went to youth group growing up, here I am being one. Everything is new, it’s gonna be my third year and as my girls grow and face this big bad world, getting attacked by these mean-as guys, I feel attacked too. Doesn’t help when the guys you asked for  help in deciphering locker room boy talk, can’t decipher it properly, seems like defending the boys themselves.

First question my friend asked: “How did this get out?” like? Okay? So it’s normal? Do I accept this fact and move on? That boys are vulgar? Tell my girl to suck it up and do the same? While I feel attacked, she’s having it worse as it’s directly related to her.

Another culturally Asian upbringing is to reduce the amount of drama you can as you live this life, it’s okay to suck it up and let it go, move on. We don’t fight it, we shouldn’t (because we are the minority), doesn’t help the fact that we are females, us in the big bad world, while much progress has been made, much hasn’t changed. When we feel attacked, we stay quiet due to unspoken fears of jeopardy and social suicide, that’s what I do and I hate the fact that I just asked my girl to do that. I hate it so much. Why did I?

It sucks being a Youth Leader, there I’ve said. If you can tell, I have a lot of personally problems to fight with and deal, being a mentor/leader, you are voluntarily taking on 16 year old problems, crap you might not even had experienced due to your wholesome-lack-of-internet lifestyle in the past, how do you mentor kids crap you haven’t dealt with?

Every year is a new year, new year new problems. Like honest to God I don’t know how this works. My ear infection is throbbing, this issue makes my face and head throb 10x more. God sincerely help. I’ve snitched the snitches and told the Youth Pastor. Yay me, the snitching youth leader who snitches on snitchs.

It’s a big bad world out there, while a lot of us have been told to stand up for ourselves, a huge part of the job is teaching men. Mothers play such a huge role in this, you have no idea, I see how my mother reprimands my brother and as he grows up and finds his strength, she cowers. My father on the other hand, is dealing with a long distance relationship with Mum and can’t do shit. It sucks. I honestly pray to God to have a daughter in the future but if I have a son, I won’t take a single bitch-talk from him. What’s on my list you say? A man who is going to be an ever-present father, I won’t take shit if he dares to leave me for a long-distance job when our kids hit puberty.

Okay tangent. But in all seriousness, no one, should be the receiving end of insults. Be kind to one another, please children please. God help us all.

2018 reflections, extended.

“just like how physical strength can be trained, so can mental strength be”.

a quote from my ig post, hence why I call this an extension… of my ig post. Before claiming that it’s from me, I quite honestly think it’s something I’ve heard/read somewhere through this year but can’t remember the exact source.

2018 has been the return of the mental game, with multiple flashbacks from 2012 and 2015, the years where I struggled enormously with my mental health. Now that I’ve physically written them down, it seems like a 3 year trend. 3 year trend because these years were the seasons where I was transitioning life-stages:
2012: VCE and recovering from ACL surgery
2015: Leaving BSc for LLB
2018: Trying to secure a clerkship that resulted with nothing.

The last few months of 2018 was spent applying for jobs/clerkships and receiving rejections. I’ve also switched casual jobs, from jewellery retail in a big brand with a predominantly Asian environment,  to apparel retail in a predominantly white environment. Today was the last work day of 2018 and it ended with a customer yelling at me and my colleague ratting me out for not following procedure (I’ve only been there 2 months, I thought what I was doing the right thing and no one called me out the last 2 months).

I started 2018 filled with hope, I envisioned ending 2018 with a secured clerkship in my dream firm with the promises of a grad program. That the London decision will boost my chances and that my sacrifice in 2015 would be proven fruitful, that I was meant to work in law and will work in law. No. Not a single law firm loved me. This is why 2015 flashback happened, I was so traumatised by it that I wondered and doubted the decisions I made, that maybe I should have gone back to Malaysia and did a Dental Degree to be a dentist and take over the family clinic. Future is failproof. I now ended it with my second shitty retail job with my manager giving me a warning and telling me she is giving me a talk the first thing in 2019.

Start of the year, I did a hike in Penang, over strained my knee and fell down. I survived a near death fall but I inflamed my previous old ACL injury. Going through the MRI once again gave me 2012 flashbacks of how I wrecked myself physically and the fears of going back into it again. I wondered if I didn’t wreck my ACL in the first place, not go on ski camp, not gain my extra 10kg, less depression, scored better in VCE because of less depression, maybe a better ATAR so I wouldn’t even be here.

Did you see that stupid causal chain of depresso I created in my head.

It was a mental game. All boiled down to the mental strength.

I didn’t know how to get back up. I was so welled up with them emotions.

2 weeks ago, I picked up the book Grit by Angela Duckworth. It was something I had been hoping to get my hands on and placed a reservation for the book, 7th in queue, in the local library. I finally got it and halfway through, Angela opened a whole new meaning into the game, grit. Life is a mental game, heck we gotta learn to play it to survive it.

Just like how people train hard for a soccer game, we had to train for these life games.

the most successful people are not the smartest, but the grittiest

I was one of the last kids in my ballet class to land that 180 degree split. It was weeks, months, years of stretching and splitting, every damn night. There were times I limped home after a stretching class, my teacher had stretched me too hard. 7 years after starting ballet at 3 years old, I finally got my ass on the ground at 10, pretty late for a ballerina. However it’s been 8 years since I’ve quit the sport, I still can split today. But I can’t go a month without pushing my legs and feeling that pain in my stretch to get my ass onto the ground.

Good things don’t come without pain. Reading the book brought back so much ballet memories, a sport so gruelling yet satisfying. The pain paid off till today, I was determined to get that split and I got it.

I may be the last to graduate among my friends, probably the last to secure a proper job too, just like how I was among the last to land that split. But I will get my ass on the ground, no matter how long it takes and how many pubic tendons I have to tear. The muscle can only build through tissue tears. If this is how God is going to tear me to make me stronger, I will tear and build for this race I was set to run.

I welcome 2019 with open arms, even if it is to come with pain, it will be turned into strength, tear by tear. In 2019 I will be building grit.

2018 didn’t end the way I wanted but it ended with a knowledge that I didn’t know I needed. Just like how a sports person needs a physiotherapist for injuries, we need psychologists for the mind.

Just like how physical injuries can be healed, so can mental injuries.

 

London Thoughts 1

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It’s been almost 4 days here in London, the jet lag has been real but I’m adjusting slowly and eventually. The past few days I’ve been bolting up from bed at 3am thinking it was 7am, but really it’s just my body and my American neighbour making weird noises.

I remember having a slight panic attack at the gate in Singapore for my second leg flight to London from Melbourne. I mean it shouldn’t have happened, I am older than I was before when I was shipped abroad to boarding school at 16. Mid-rush packing prior to my flight back in Melbourne, I grabbed the smallest, lightest book I could find in my shelf that I could take on the flight, as seen above. I honestly did not expect much from it, as I knew it was deep and very wordy and not something that can be done in 20ish hours. Also inflight entertainment fam.

I still made the effort to read because, as much as I hate to admit, reading it good for the (my) soul. I’m not as dense as I perceive to be thanks. Timely much, just before the journey was about to end I hit this chapter:

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Challenge

The recent streaks of my anxiety and panics have risen out of my desire to remain comfortable. I was not the YOLO teen I used to be. I hate to always use this example, but it’s true, my enthusiasm for challenges has drastically changed since my ski accident. Everything had to be thought twice, I’d rather play everything safe. Shit should not go down without being consulted with people I trust or being done with people I trust. Besides the girl I knew from law school, London was a solo adventure.

Grit

You truly will never know the grit that exists within until you put yourself in a situation that brings it out of you.

First day of summer school classes the lecturer straight up tells us “Welcome to one of the hardest courses that we offer in summer school”. It didn’t take long for it to sink in when I realised some of my course mates were investment bankers, senior associates of global law firms, Masters students and a how did I end up here self. I don’t completely understand derivatives and here I am being taught how to regulate it??? God help.

Furthermore, I was ditched at the club on the first day of our classes, it was a welcome “party” organised by the student union. Never in my entire clubbing life had I entered a club sober and boy I hated it. I had never been so conscious of my surroundings and all I could think of was this is crap, why did I like this last time, was it always like this. Maybe it’s just London.

I was ditched because the friend that bought tickets (and made me go) decided that smoking up in an apartment was much more fun and left without telling me. I found myself walking back to my residential at 12.34am in the morning, alone, in the dark in London alleyways. Honey if I had not prayed, I would’ve cried. I’ll explain more on these thoughts in post 2.

Since the day at Changi, I have yet to experience an attack. I’ve been too busy trying to survive, hitting out all them challenges swinging my way. It’s like my body and soul is trying to tell the devil that I ain’t got time for that anxiety crap.

It’s not something I had asked for, but it’s something within my control and grasp. Challenges can be created and it is within our control, through our openness and willingness to go through them.

I did not come here just for fun. I came here to learn. About myself and International Financial Law. and get that credit point.

 

Slimming Adventures

Food. Food. Food.

The glut for the past 2 weeks has been very real, I had to take digestion pills during the weekend in Singapore due to consuming more food than I can digest. The torture I put myself through was crazy and I didn’t stop, I even bought myself a bottle of pills to prepare for the next bout of food.

I mean I flew 8 hours up here not for nothing.

I’m currently in Malaysia, the land I spent my childhood and early teens in. Compared to my many trips down in the past since moving to Melbourne, I was able to reconnect with my middle school friends and going to Singapore to meet with my high school friends.

It is no secret to those who knew me before Australia that I was a skinnier, much slimmer, much fitter girl. I had put on a total of 10kgs post-KL and I have been nowhere near to going back to the original 47kg self in 2010.

However, this holiday, the glut has been so real. The food has been amazing and the prices were so cheap and I couldn’t help myself. My middle school friend had just returned from her UK studies for good, so I spent the last few days just catching up with her and being the ultimate Groupon buddy (as well as luxury window shopping things I cannot afford).

She found a free slimming deal.

It’s freeeeee..she says, and she would do it with me. (She is 160cm, under 50kgs, clearly doing it for the fun of it).

I wouldn’t pay to do something like this, never. But I was always curious with what was involved. My mum mentioned to me that she tried it once post-pregnancy but it doesn’t work at all and is fully gimmicks. But I could try it out for myself if I wanted, it was free after all. Surrounded by blunt Asian family and friends, being told I am ‘much meatier’ than before can be over-bearing, this should be harmless.

So, I will now narrate this adventure.

Consultation
I knew that the slimming centres giving out free treatments was too good to be true, these places sell packages for thousands of bucks. “Proven results” banners are everywhere. It was cheap treatment and it wasn’t a 1 day job, people sign up packages for months.

The consultant gave me a horrified glare when I told her I was only here for 2 weeks in KL and that I was from Melbourne. She still tried to hard-sell me a RM4000 package, saying that I could “come in everyday and will go back to the pre-Melbourne weight” i call bullshit.

She asked me for my ‘target areas’. Tummy… only, I replied. She made me take off my top.

Oh my God, you’re very fat everywhere.. Your arms also very big.. aiyo tummy also very very big -squeezes my fats- ehh your thighs also got a lot of fat” – Malaysian accent emphasized (she was very aunty)

So this is how they hard sell and guilt trip fat people. I told you only tummy. Thanks for telling me I’m an all-around fatass.

I insisted that I will begin with the free 1st treatment first to decide. 1stly, I couldn’t afford (I didn’t tell her because I wanted my free session), 2ndly… what if it’s some stupid gimmick I would sell myself into.

Steam-Room
Was told it is meant to open up my body pores (what for). 

Firstly, I felt like dying. It’s like a sauna, much hotter, much stuffier. I felt like being dumped in a kettle. Next to my cubicle was a fat lady going through her paid package.

Secondly, I can’t breathe. My nostrils burned as I breathed, thank God they provided me a towel for me to breathe through or I would’ve died or be diagnosed with burnt nostrils for life.

Thirdly, I don’t see the purpose. It was a steam room, the lady told me I will sweat. I was wet all over 10 seconds into the 10 minutes I was in there, I swear 90% of moisture on me during the whole duration was the steam, 10% sweat (but I doubt it).

Suffocating Torture. Why fat ladies WHY.

Pictures
Made me strip and take photos of my fat self. (for before and after effects… they didn’t know I wasn’t coming back) While taking my photos and measuring the diameters of my fats, slimming lady discovers I could speak and understand Mandarin.. immediately stops bitching about my friend and I in Mandarin.

“I thought you guys were English educated….” she says. Well, you didn’t ask for my primary school did you ey?

Lavender Scrub
I feel no scrub. What scrub. Slimming lady just slathered 50% oil and 50% water misture on my body… “preparing for the next step” she says…”scrub is to remove dead skin”…

There was no scrub… so no dead skin was removed.

Hot Blanket
With 50% oil mixture still on me.. she made me lie on a sheet of plastic. Next thing I knew was  me being wrapped in plastic, a heavy blanket wrapped around me… I was marinated meat.

“20 minutes…” she said, and left me there to marinated.. in the room.. alone.

20 minutes felt like 20 hours. Worst 20 minutes of my life.

About 5 minutes in I felt like cooked meat. I felt the mixture and I swear by this moment, I confirmed that the mixture was probably 80% water, 20% oil and lavender smell was artificial as fart.

I was boiling meat.

At 12 minutes in, I knew I was dying. I don’t know why women put these people in business. oh my goodness it made me miss hot pilates…  A LOT.

God saved me, I discovered an emergency button. I managed to squirm my arms out of my boiling burrito sack of marination and press it. Slimming lady came it, told me “8 more minutes” (that’s how I knew I was 12 minutes in).. and ditched me again.

Was apparently not well cooked enough. (Purpose of that procedure was apparently to “increase blood circulation”.. more like “increase chances of death”)

Shower
To wash of my marinate

Fat Burner
HAHAHA I don’t know how to begin this.

Slimming lady lathered on and ampuole to help me “burn my fats”, she lathered them on my fat arms, fat thighs, fat tummy.

2 minutes later, I felt like they were on fire… “Oh they are burning your fat” she says… more like burning my body and the next day I will have no skin.

She then wrapped my fat parts with this wirey stuff that was hooked onto a ‘slimming machine’ that will give out the vibrations to “help stimulate and work your muscles”..

So this is how lazy people exercise… pay thousands of bucks to get their muscles vibrated. oh my goodness.

I slept throughout the vibration session. I don’t know if anything was activated. If anything, my muscles were relaxed and this was the best part of the session. I slept.

Conclusion

Please. Don’t. Go.

I don’t understand why women do it. Yea it may have worked if you attended 50 times of that, but it’s all a marketing business gimmick. Proven results can come after maybe 1 year and over thousands of dollars wasted. I recommend hot pilates.

The atrocious fact was they actually wanted my dangerously skinny friend to sign up so that she can ‘prevent herself from getting fatter’. Are you kidding, she needs to put on weight.

Yes. I know I do occasionally suffer from self-esteem body image issues especially  when being surrounded by old friends who remind me of my old shape. This time I took a step too far, but it was free.

I treated it as an adventure. Solely for the experience. But if I had really been engrossed in my body-image and if I really was my old self before Jesus, I probably would have signed up (and get scolded by my parents in the process). Honestly, it can be quite easy to fall-victim to these stuff, that’s why they’re still in business. (many ladies were going through their paid treatment while I was going through my free one).

Why? Because the outside world can be over-bearing. It will be a lie if I told you it never affected me. It would be a lie if I told you that I didn’t feel anything when the slimming centre told me I was too fat.

The commercial world is out there to really hard sell stuff to us based on our flaws. I swear I only read this on the media, but yesterday was my first-hand experience of being marketed based on my flaws.

I’m sorry but regardless of my weight. If I exercise and lose weight in the process, that is God’s blessing, if not, I’ll be the way God wants me to be. I don’t know why women would pay to go through semi-death, please invest them in a good body massage (much cheaper too) if you have that much money.

 

 

Decision making

Here’s the deal, I’m the worst at decision making. It makes me wonder sometimes why I got picked into being a leader, leader’s are meant to be the best at decision making. Being indecisive is the worst trait of a leader (well I get annoyed if my leaders can’t make a decision). Which brings me to this, I’m a current kids leader that’s being lead by a kids pastor but currently being offered a position to run the toddler section as a proper leader alongside the kids pastor. I can’t decide. omgosh i actually can’t decide.

A normal human being would have leapt on it. I’m the kind who weighs-in the pros and cons, it’s easy if one outweighs another but it’s the worst if they even out and the weight balance is straight. I mean, THAT’S NOT THE POINT OF THE WHOLE PROCESS. The more time I take to decide the more indecisive I get, it completely defeats the purpose of weighing out the issues.

I thought maybe because my brain can’t help itself and God wasn’t talking to me in booming voices, I should talk to people, people in church and the family (because God can speak to us through people, right?). The decision was divided and I’m back to square one. STILL UNDECIDED.

I decided to lay it off, since my senior pastor was away in America and he said he’ll discuss more about it with me regarding the position when I’m back. Besides, I had more pressing issues as a law student such as how to complete 2 law assignments due on the same day without head explosions. I’ve managed that well and better than the decisions I had to make, my head is still intact and it has to be as I have one more test due this Saturday on Constitutional Law.

Then the text came. My senior pastor (SP) is back from America. I have not made a decision. He wants to do an interview next week. 

Brain went on panic mode. The cool calm and collected manner I was planning to have for this Saturday’s test went off-course. SP even asked for my CV, like whuuut… I haven’t even drafted my Consti answers and my CV hasn’t been updated in months.

Times like these, a burning bush wouldn’t scare me. I’d rather a burning bush with God’s voice telling me to decide with A or B than walk around like and aimless drunk.

I’ve been listening to heaps of Chad Veach podcasts the past couple of weeks, many rechoing the main message that God has a plan and that if we stray, He’ll bring as back anyway.

Panic mode clearly didn’t help. I told myself that I should fast and pray on the matter but I didn’t. I ended up shoving it aside, convincing myself I had more priorities like my law assignments. I did not hand the issue to God, which I told my friends I would and that “He’ll help me decide” because I have other things to do. I deliberately dumped it in the corner. I thought I had 2 weeks on the matter but 2 weeks felt like 2 days and now SP is back and I need an answer.

Light Bulb moments

There is a significant difference with leaving the issue with God and dumping it aside and let it rot. God is not going to pick it up for use. He helps us when we are in need, yes, but we have to do the action, ourselves. As in we have to actively pray about it, it should not affect every minute of our lives but neither should be completely ignore it. We have to hand it to God with our own hands in complete surrender and ask for His guidance daily on the matter.

I did it all wrong.

But wrong doesn’t mean an automatic failure.

I have 1 more week. 1 more week to decide. It’s not too late.

One more week to Seek Him, Pray and ask the right help.

 

 

Singleness. Is it such a bad thing?

So just after a couple of days after writing my bottle opener revelation post (just before)… was stalking my cousin’s blog (just like what cousins do NBD) and found something complementing the topic! Too good to not share!

Too good to not share!

Fam, we think alike 😉

check him out too and give him a follow!!

Continually Convicted

There is this growing trend (actually maybe it was there all along but I never noticed it until recently) of our generation seeking relationships with urgency and viewing singleness (or a lack of experience with relationships) as sub-par or undesirable.

There is just SO much wrong with this mindset.

I could go on for years about how much I think this mindset is flawed but for the sake of attention span in reading I will try and summarise. Here goes:

Let me give you a scenario which is all too common for both guys and girls in our young adult stage of life. The situation is two friendship groups of people of the same age and mixed gender for both groups meet for the first time. For the next few hours to weeks, all everyone is thinking of is “who out of this group of people would be compatible with…

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