Mental fitness

The video is completely unrelated to this post, but I love it. It’s my current jam, the scenery is fantastic, the concept is genius and the director is cute. Name me a better formula for a kick ass MV. It exemplifies my life and current state, a mess but making the best out of it.

Dad got his drug prescription today, after 2.5 weeks of anxious waiting since his blood samples were sent to US and Singapore for further testing. Good news is that it’s an FDA approved drug and it is targeted cell-therapy, but he didn’t qualify for the clinical trial drug, which “is suppose to be more potent and effective, but we don’t know side effects.”

To be honest I don’t know if I should be happy or sad that he didn’t qualify. I went ham at drug researching instead of my delegated investigative tasks at work today, stumbled upon some false news that it would “increase dad’s lifespan by 40%” and reported said false news to my 2 group chats. Omg had to correct force news later on, got myself blue ticked. Well, whatta streak. that, kids, is not how you support an emotional welping human-being, blue ticking.

Anyways, humiliation aside. I survived a 3 day work conference and submitting 2 academic submissions on time. Writing this and reminding myself that my head is still above water, I’m still breathing and I’m fine. It is not an easy feat, juggling full-time work, study and an emotionally unstable household. I’m not trying to toot my horn but look, the lack of peer to peer feedback I have with human beings, I need to rely on self-assurance and let myself know that I’m still okay, because I am.

The conference taught me the concept of mental fitness. Just like how people put priority on physical fitness, train for an actual running marathon, boy why do we not train for mental marathons. This past month has been a mental marathon, heck I’m still running and I can’t afford to be tired with all the work I have on.

Thank you for some suggestions, to ask me to slow down, take a breather and maybe defer my studies. I don’t know how long my dad has left, but at stage 4, I want my dad to attend my graduation.

It is my final semester, my final academic run, bring on the next 2 months, I won’t be running alone because I’ll be running on faith and Jesus. Watch me.

Also, if you hopefully listened to the song by the end of the post, or even payed attention to the lyrics, its a beautiful message of embracing what’s now and not worry about the future

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Beyond the Statistics, please

Hello hunnies, after a good 6 months of hiatus I’m back.

As you know, when I’m back, some shit surely went down and you’re sure as hell right because why else am I here. But I’ve left it 6 months too long and 6 months worth of journalling I may as well shoot my shot at asking Penguin Books to publish and monetise my life, but I ain’t about that life (yet). Also I have an assignment due tomorrow and I am now a full time adulting in the corporate world (I know! after all those sob stories of being jobless!!), so this piece is short, let’s hope.

Crink isn’t fully CRINKED if I don’t welp about this rollercoaster life, I’d rant about all the shit that went down, on how it has wrecked me and how I will survive the shits yet again. I did hunnies, I did and sometimes I’m glad I write them down because at times like these I can laugh at myself being the trivial bitch I can be about life and call those stuff massive, at the time.

So, straight to the point, my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer exactly a month ago.

He semi-collapsed a day he was due to fly back to KL, after a close-call to a cardiac arrest and an emergency procedure that saved his life, when you’d think God has answered your prayers and life is normal again. BOOM, sorry folks, your fam has cancer, not just any cancer but stage 4 absolute last stage of them all.

It’s been a month.

Have I processed the news yet? Nope. While life and routine has slowly regained it’s rhythm, I’m back at work and I’m getting back into the library on weekends again to remind myself I’m still a student. I haven’t fully grasped, or tried, to process the emotions fully out of this whole episode. I don’t even know how to feel or express myself each time someone asked me if I’m okay, or if I’m even coping okay?

Imagine 20-50 people asking you the same question.


I am? I mean straight after helping dad move to the oncology ward I’ve swung back into work full-time (neglected my studies though). I tried with all the strength and power I had to block emotions, despite crying all the fluids out of my body in the first 2 days of the news, to not let it detriment my life and career. I just got this new job. I was so fuelled by the “You are so strong” and “stay strong” comments that I left no room to slow down.

Dad was adamant for me to carry on normally with life, Life goes on Juanlin, I don’t want you to stop your life because of me. That fuelled me even more, wtf is emotions and all I did was push push go go and trust that God will handle the rest because, I know He does.

I’ve been absent from church, home group and even took a break from Youth. While it seems to paint a picture that I’ve fallen away due to this news, it hasn’t. God has showed me how much I needed Him, how much of the past few years has moulded me and even though I thought those years made me stronger, Oh child… you still need Me, don’t try this bullshit yourself.

God revealed that no matter how hard I try, I’m weak and only through His strength can I only pull through. So no, I am not strong.

To the people wondering how I’ve managed to weave through work, study, and juggling the heavy emotions at home the past month, God did. The month I’ve stayed away from church has pulled me the closest to God.

While yes I may have been a bit slightly unhinged in terms of language and so forth, slightly, I’m still my very own self. I’ve pulled back things due to the reputation I had to keep in front of u18s. But look, life pulls us and stretches us in various directions there is no one way formula to live it out. I was living through a formula as a youth leader and I think this little break has allowed me to breach out of my shell for a bit. I love it but it doesn’t mean I love God any less.


Now am I okay? Soz we went on a tangent

I can’t say I am neither am I not. The first 3 weeks post cancer news I couldn’t sleep. The first night after a good few hours of crying, I jolted out of bed. I had the weirdest 2 visions of one, a funeral, two, my dad walking me down the aisle. For the first 2 weeks, my body clock jolted me up at 3am sharp no matter what time I went to bed. To get myself a good 6 hours of sleep before work, I had to be in bed by 9pm, then roll around the bed from 3-6am.

I couldn’t eat. My appetite was a complete mess and as a person who binge ate every hour and struggled to lose weight over the years, I lost 2 kilos in a week. I didn’t even feel hungry at all. Even as my appetite slowly gained it’s momentum, I suddenly resisted it due to the weight loss that seemed to fuel the hole and desire I wanted for so long, filling the emotional distress that I was going through. I spent a good few days wrestling with myself at this building disorder and the validity of my emotions towards food. It’s still a battle and maybe, I might keep you posted.


Dad had his samples posted to USA and Singapore for further testing for his qualification for clinical trial drugs. This Tuesday, we’d possibly find out the results. At stage 4, you’d want anything to keep you alive, to keep your family alive, even if you have no idea what the drug can do and it’s side-effects yet known to the world.

I am clinging on to the second vision of my dad walking me down the aisle, I need him there. I don’t know what I’d do without him, as selfish as I am, I’m not ready to let him go. I’m praying for him to be there for my graduation, my Masters, my wedding and my children.

God,
there is so much for him to see, please be there for him, I beg you. While I could have been a better daughter, I know You are merciful. It’s not just me, Ma and Maowen needs him too. Provide him a miracle, let my dad live beyond the statistics, please.

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.

 

The lies people tell, the love not deserved

I can’t wait for Saturday, we’re gonna get sooo fucked. Just 2 parties oh fk i can’t wait”

My heart dropped. I knew what that meant. I loved Mika, she was an absolute gem and pep-talk go to during my clerkship crisis and tax assignment crisis. She knew all the right words to say to get my head back into the game, through the ways of the world, like Troy Bolton did.

I met her in London, along with my other law school friends whom I’m close with prior to LSE. But things got real in London when I realised that things were going out of hand, in terms of partying, drinking and all that jazz. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party, a good drink, but I have always, ALWAYS, had been responsible. In fact, London was the first time I went out with non-asians and yes it was eye-opening, real eye-opening, things I watched in the movies came out in real-life. I thought I was wild when I was 21 but I guess not. I’m a good girl. really.

Through all the chaos, on our trip back from Paris, Ness* and I made up. We promised we’ll still be friends and despite our differences, I truly forgave her for what she did to me and the stuff I had to be put through. We are still friends, along with the other girls I met in London. I thought that through all the flaking and early departures from the clubs when we were in London, they’d get the drift I wasn’t that type of girl.

Mika and I never interacted as much in London besides the time we got real drunk on the boat. Fast-forward back to the normal uni semester when we crossed paths again, I knew Ness and the rest still hung-out with her because she was the wildest of the bunch with all the goods *drugs* for your innocence. She had that incredible energy, duracell bunny kind and it was hard to hate her. She was an epic tax genius so teaming up with her for the assignment was no brainer.

Everyone was getting clerkship offers, everyone had connections. EVERYONE. As much as their lifestyle was quite out of my zone, deep in my heart I knew I didn’t need it, I wanted to be their friends so bad, for the sake of being connected in the law world. They had the connections I needed.

So when Mika invited me to *drinks*, I agreed. Ness and all were coming along too and we were good friends. It was the weekend I was meant to go on a Women’s retreat with my church and after paying for a full-stay, I re-organized a “half-trip” because i needed to “celebrate something with my law friends”.

Are you that close to them though? Was the question then kinda hit me when one of my church friends questioned my decision. Yeah, I responded. Epic lie 1.

I need to go back early for the girls dance practice. Epic lie 2.

Then comes Tuesday before the weekend. Mika tells me the full plans. Plans to get rekt, we were NOT going to *just drinks at the bar* as presumed. I silently cussed from within my soul. Why am I so dumb.

On Wednesday on my trip to Bendigo, well away from Melbourne with a bus of strangers, 6am in the morning, my hands reached my phone as I typed into the newly made Messenger group that was excited for the weekend for “lets-get-fkd plans”, 

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Epic lie 3

I needed to save my ass.

I wasn’t getting fkd. It was 3 days after my cousin’s death anniversary for an overdose. 2 nights before I was shedding tears when I remembered his last words to me was:

Don’t give up Juanlin

It was in the context of my Science degree at the time, but his words have never been more real. oh God I am crying now. But I have been through the shitstorms through all these rejections from all the applications I have been doing despite all the hardwork I thought I invested in.

My late cousin wanted to see me graduate bad. He didn’t live to see the day, I switched degrees instead against what he said. My second degree is ending and my employability is well… quite fluffy and blur at this rate.

I went for the full retreat. Despite being physically tired, I feel spiritually refreshed.
Will probs do another post for this

I made such epic lies in the span of 2 weeks. I do not deserve the love God showered me with on the weekend but He still did. I have never done a public testimony or public presentation to Vic State Council in my life, in a span of a week, I did 2 public speaking events (Bendigo and Retreat). I might’ve made a joke out of myself, people were laughing, I don’t know if at me or what I said. But God, I feel like I’ve grown.

It’s been a journey, especially since London. I prayed for God to give me resilience at the start of the year, He’s been providing me nothing short of situations to help me develop that. Funny how He works things out.

I’m still friends with those girls. I hardly make enemies just because we have different values. However if they still want to be my friends, that’s another story.

p/s: My once anonymity in tweeting and blogging has slowly started to surface. I’ve been tweeting and blogging since I was 15. Mostly to an audience I don’t really know. My language on these platforms are slightly less filtered -because less judgement, I didn’t realise the amount of real life people I interact with actually read into my stuff. I’ve been doing this for so long, it’s nothing new. I’m glad y’all reading, I thank y’all for the attention (and none). I’m just getting used to speaking about what I write online, in real life. I guess because most people who knows my platforms and know me IRL don’t dare to even discuss these things with me in real life, I tend to forget that they even follow. you lurkers.  If you know me in real life, I guess you see my 2 sides now, hope you still love me as who I am. I’m alright if you approach me in real life about these things too, I guess 9 years helped me grow more skin. Tq fam.

*Names changed for privacy purposes.

Puffy Eyes

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“My face is so puffy it seriously hurts to cry”

I found myself saying that to my friends while clutching my cheeks and jawline to compress the puffiness that was developed from my multiple cry sessions over the weekend.

I don’t how to feel about that. Crying. I mean if you know me, you’ve seen me cry before… from laughing. It’s no secret that I’m that infamous laugh-cry emoji in my friendship groups, sometimes I feel like it’s my only God-given talent in the past 23 years.

But the crying I’m talking about is the sincere fat tears secreted by the tear-ducts from the induced heavy emotions from I-don’t-know-where (and you will tell me – It’s God).  I cry all the time. But let me tell you this, I hate seeing people cry (though it’s changed over the past few years). I don’t know how to react to an emotional person, despite being emotional myself. I don’t know how to comfort them… do I hug you? Do you want me to hug you? What if you don’t want me here? Should I disappear? As a youth leader now, I have essentially improved in this area, or else I will be sincerely fired over being the least empathetic leader ever.

To prevent the same emotions and feelings back to me, I made a point to myself to never public cry, ever. My closest and dearest friends, those I’ve lived with in boarding school, despite wailing myself to sleep some nights, have never seen me cry. Yet I cried like the biggest whack over the weekend at my Young Adults (1830) Camp. Gosh… the amount of times I had to run to the bathroom and people questioning my bladder issues. I mean I do pee a lot, but my visits were abnormally frequent… if you get my drift.

Is it the Internship
Is it God
Is it life
What is it
Do you need to talk

Do I?

Can I honestly tell you… I don’t know why I cried. I’m as confused as ever. Yes, I left a Christian Camp with less clarity and more confusion, how scandalously unholy.

I think half my crying was crying that I can’t stop myself from crying in public and it’s annoying to cry that it made me cry even more because I’m crying.

Yea I may have left camp confused. But I’m not confused with God. No, not ever. I think I left the camp with more curiosity, of what God has in store for me. I mean, yes I’m confused, but tell me and give me a millennial who isn’t confused with their life. They may have it all together but are you seriously that planned out… seriously.

It’s been a couple of days since camp. I’ve received “are you ok?” texts from multiple people who knew of my crying. Here it goes, I’m okay guys. I am. I’m not gonna be the suicidal 19-year-old again. God has sacrificed a life of a family member to teach me the value of life, so no. I will not die. I love life, as challenging and confusing it may be. But that’s the whole excitement of the journey, isn’t it?

I’m 23 now. It really hit me only a few days back despite 19 days into my new age. I’m not young, but I’m not old. I’m not all put together, but I’m strong enough to pick myself up if need be. I’m growing, I have Jesus. I am on the right track. Emotions are part of life, I have to deal with it, regardless how much I hate crying emotionally. It happens.

Cheers to my new age, more infrequent blogging and rants of my life. The blessings, the downfalls, the anger, the love and most of all… the endurance that comes out from the hecticness of it all.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us

Hebrews 12:1

p/s: If you’re an Athiest and wondering why an idiot like me would still believe in God despite the awful emotions and puffiness I have to endure and making my face 10x uglier than it already is… read this.

A Christmas Gift

Before I begin, apologies for the long absence.

It’s been a post I’ve meant to do since I got the news but got a bit carried away since arriving back in Melbourne.

Late last year I was told that I had a lump in my right breast and was to go for half-yearly checks for growths and risks. It dawned on me the seriousness of my condition when I was referred to a breast cancer surgeon this year and was told that my lump grew. A biopsy was performed and by the grace of God, benign.

I’ve cut alcohol, tried to be healthy. I’m not gonna lie and say it was smooth sailing, I struggled. There were times I’d even wanna forget about it, that there was no such thing. I was only 22, to face the news that women only receive during their mid-life crisis… here I am, not even hitting the quarter-life, but with a growing lump that may be potentially cancerous??

As the date for my next scan approached, it dawned on me that it’s time to face the news again, this time without my mother. I was back in Melbourne, alone. She was in Malaysia. I started my fervent praying for the lump to not grow, or maybe miraculously shrink…

I told my parents I could do this alone, the scan had to be done regardless, it’s for my health anyway. But just the day before, I had a mini-breakdown at my hoome-group over the fear of receiving bad news alone. Thankfully, 2 of my friends agreed to come along to give me support at the Clinic.

God had better plans.

The ultrasound technician spent a good 10 minutes rolling the stick around my boob, the warm gel had turn chilly and no news about the lump. (This was meant to be a good thing, but the technician’s confused face just made me worried).

That’s weird… I can’t find the lump” She was squinting her eyes at the screen. “I think I will call in another specialist to find it for me… this never happens”

Another specialist came in, this time having my previous scans, bot technician and specialist were trying to scrutinize the scans as hard as possible. “This is an unusual case, here I was thinking that you’re an easy one but no…” she said. The specialist chimed in and said, “Looks like the problem solved itself”.

It was then I knew, that miracles happen.

God heals. More than I’d even asked for.

The breast surgeon I was seeing did a final check and told me that the lump was gone.

God’s early Christmas miracle on the 30th of November.

I’m writing this down because it is a testament to God’s love. It is something I had always believed in but never occurred in my personal life until that day, where my lump fully disappeared.

Bear in mind, I did not think I’d deserved it. I’m a normal human being who makes mistakes, commit failures and occasionally falling into temptation. There were times I succumbed to worldly things despite my faith, I was the last person to deserve such a miracle but God gave it to me.

You may believe you are undeserving, but God gives miracles and gifts to those He believes in, those He believes that deserve, no matter how undeserving we feel we are.

My heart was so full that day, typing this makes my heart full again as I was experiencing a bad day just before. It will serve me as a constant reminder that I am loved, that God loves us so much that He sent His only begotten Son for us, this Christmas day.

The Greatest Christmas Gift.

 

University Life. The real deal not the movie deal.

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The boring part and library shenanigans

Talk about having a busy week. This is the busiest I’ve ever been. The first time my to-do list is overflowing after a long while. After a failed semester, I promised myself I’ll be way much more productive by actually doing to-do lists. It was a habit back in high-school and it worked. For some strange reason, the slacker me over-powered the diligent me… Well I have finally concluded it’s because of this sudden burst of freedom which I never had before. No wonder everyone loves college/university life at first… until it comes rubbing back in the face going HAHA SEE WHAT I DID THERE SUCKER! YOU FAILED.

Epic lols and failures to the people who believe that uni life means freedom and more slacking compared to school life. High school kids dream of uni saying, “we will finally get a rest after all these 12 years of schooling”.

Rest… my ass.

I’m only in my 5th week of the semester, this time diligently compiling all the stuff I need to do and trying my very best to not slack.. trying.. The workload is equivalent to my whole silly year of highschool. What lies. Liars are those college/uni gits who tell you life gets easier. Bunch of liars.

If you’re a highschool student looking forward to this “dream life” and wanting live it up and all that, I’m all for your dream but that’s just one side. No one wants to highlight the bad bits because… they’re legit bad.

Telling kids that you have to spend hours in the library for mid-sem tests and assignments sound boring as.. who wants to go to university now after 12 years of that (to be honest the first 6 years don’t really count)? People go all out for the Pitch-Perfect and all that movie magic stuff. Uni life is so fun and it’s meant to be that way.. “meant to be”. It really gives the wrong picture and I was a victim, I can’t believe I was. I was longing for this “fun”, “whooooheeehaaa” feeling that every kid from high school was looking forward to. I see my assignments coming and be like who does that?

Everyone. They just do it in secret. Those sneaky gits.

They just don’t want to show you because it is boring and it sucks. No one wants to expose a boring side.

But it will be the thing that will determine whether if you wanna stay or get kicked out of university. It is that huge, bigger than that trippy sing-song group that’s suppose to be fun, but no-one shows it, NO ONE. 

I’ve learnt the hard way and it sucks. I had to be really put down low to finally realise that what everyone portrays isn’t real. Not just the media, but your peers. They’ll go clubbing and parties and just highlight their social life and fun-bits because it’s something common human nature can relate to – fun. They won’t ramble about their assignments because it’s boring and you probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. To have a great social life in Uni is like the IT thing. 

I’m not discouraging University life of studying at all. It is a good experience and everyone takes it differently. You will learn something, maybe through working hard from the start or getting smacked in the face later, you will get something out of it. It will be worth it. It’s through these things we learn. It is life after all. 

I’m not saying don’t join anything when you go to university/college. Always keep the balance. It’s not going to be easy and just be prepared to work doubly or triply hard. If you succeed with all that going for you, you are a massive trooper and everyone admires you. You deserve to be the next president of whatever comes your way. Not a lot of people can do that, you will discover what you can do eventually I guess.

Either way if you don’t want to go to university after this, you’ll still get smacked. The fact that you’re still breathing, still living, you have life. Life smacks you in the face so deal with it.

I am glad that I have God by my side through this journey. It is a rough one and honestly I wouldn’t be able to cope without Him. I get smacked by life all the time but He tells me that I’m still worth it and I can keep going and He’ll be there to carry me through. He’s the antibiotics to this deadly bacterial life suffering. Together we’ll be a team and hopefully I’ll get immune to it eventually.

Okay enough procrastination and back to the daily grind. 4 more stuff to tick off the to-do list.

The supposed fun thing that happened last saturday in uni. I think it was Cosplay. I find it odd.
The supposed fun thing that happened last Saturday in uni. I think it was Cosplay. I find it odd, Cosplay in a university does not go well (personal opinion).