A Page To Remember

Hi everyone,

It’s Little Miss A back with her writing, except this piece will punch more than the other usually tickles. Everyone writes for different reasons. I write to remember. So, this is a tribute to my memories and the people that live in it.

I left feeling absolutely destroyed.

She stared at me helplessly with drool drooping from her chin

teasing the hem of her green collared shirt

Lips left in a permanent squiggle.

Mouth agape.

Eyes pleading, Blank sorrow was what gripped me

It was what gripped my heart and bunched it up

Ready to tear and rip what was left inside of me

But after what happened next made me think

maybe what lay beneath my ribs was already empty

I had 2 dollars in my pocket and the guy sitting with his skinny eyecandy avoiding eyecontact probably had more

But that was not the point.

The point was that i could only smile guiltily back

The point was that i could only shake my head to her open palm

The point was that I dug through my bag

but didn’t thrust dollars out

The point was that I didn’t reach out to her

The point was that nobody bothered

The couples sitting at the table

All they could think about was their dalliance

The physical desires

The pecks on the cheeks, stroke of the forearm, exchange of saliva

and who knows what else.

They had waved their palms in a slow dance as a signal for her to move on

The guy had frowned, sighed indifferently

The girl had pinched her nose,

waving the air with her other arm, trying to forget.

So prevalent So present and Yet invisible

So invisibly visable.

What a sick but beautiful contorted oxymoron

I rocked out of my seat and took the next escalator up

and threw away my food

because I was sick to the core.

Because life is just a rambunctious mess.

Just a turn and spin machine in the casino

rows and columns of guess and checks

One flip away from poverty or wealth

I wonder…

How far was I then from being her?

My mind twirls as I think how to calculate this

because I want to calculate this.

I want to understand how I have lived for 8 years in a perfectly nice condo

adorned with gold and white accents

fur coats, chunky gold necklaces

right. next. to the slums with dirt coated fruit carts

and measly straw hats.

Too heartbroken to turn our cheeks and too selfish to act

I guess that’s how the world operates

Just keep your head down so you convey sympathy

and wave your fingers to convey you cannot help.

“I’m sorry. I want to but I can’t. “

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Being Human

In Singapore, summer was the only season I knew.

The hot, humid fragment of the year that endowed suffocating heat as I stood impatiently by the train tracks was at one point of my life all I ever knew.

That’s why my first trip to Japan in December 2007 felt so surreal. My feet didn’t recognize the crunch beneath it. My hands didn’t recognize the numb and sporadically painful poke of sparks when it brushed against metal bars. My eyes definitely did not recognize the sight of white. The sight of white fields, white streaks toasting in the glare of the early morning sun, white specks caressing my mum’s eyelashes, white showers.

It was an unfamiliar beauty. Like a cold, distant friend who resisted touch and chose to lock herself in a closet rather than reveal herself to others. It was hard to reach out, but eventually I did for I was most mesmerized with its thorn-like texture.

Later did I know that life was such that adaptation is a most painful, cruel way of throwing away your 5 senses and living blank minded. The move to Shanghai slowly got me indifferent to the cool weather and soon the hour long bus ride to and fro from school became a waste of time.

Too car sick to read, too tired to memorize the pattern of the roads beyond the window, my bus rides became sleep sessions, an hour self-therapy session to pay off my sleep debt. And that is life sometimes I suppose, getting so caught up in whatever you’re doing you forget that change of heart, that excitement, tingle in your chest and your throat when you go off to a new space. I am afraid that I’ll fall off the edge like that, forget about all the things that make me human. That’s why I write I suppose, that’s why I think twice, feel, breathe my surroundings. And I hope you guys do too.

Have a happy Sunday everyone!

I’m going to try to make everyday special and hold in my groans on Monday.

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Movie Craze: 500 Days of Summer (2009)

“Today is the day,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to do a movie review on a movie I really should have watched 6 years ago.” Hahaa. I know I know people are going to roll their eyes because this is a classic, almost like a must-watch “Mean Girls.” But at least I tried it today right? Well without further ado, here is my take on the movie.

“500 Days of Summer” is a RomCom starring the 2 most outrageous and amusing actors, Joseph Gordon Levitt (Tom aka. the hopeless romantic) and Zooey Deschanel (Summer aka. the “cold hearted” casual girlfriend.) It explores mainly Tom’s side of the story- as he reflects on the 500 days they’ve been together, when Summer dumps him with not wanting a “serious relationship” as the reason.

Review

Storyline: 6/10

I loved the cute, memorabilia scene at the beginning, when the 2 protagonists was introduced to the movie. It was so sweet because it was as if we were watching grow up.

While I was hooked, and I loved that the scenes transitioned so flawlessly, the plot wasn’t perfect because not every single moment counted. If I were to delete a scene, I bet nobody would really notice because the scenes were all so similar in a way. This would be different in… Disney’s Mulan! (Which is my fav by the way.)

I also didn’t love the ending… I didn’t understand how Summer left the company, then out of the blue, met her future husband 1 or 2 weeks later even though she claimed she wasn’t one for romance. There were a couple holes towards the end when Summer and Tom met on a train out of coincidence- it was abrupt and unnatural.

Chemistry 9/10

But the chemistry was just so on point. Sparks literally flew and my toes tingled when I saw the way Tom looked at Summer. It was so special; it was like they were the only ones in the room. So for that, acting is also on the verge of flying colors. I liked the depth of the characters and how the directors peeled back their skins a little by little, especially Summer!

Aesthetics 9/10

The aesthetics as a whole was so amazing. The lighting, angles, close-ups, flashbacks were the highlights of the movie. It rolled so seamlessly; I was mesmerized.

A few of my FAV parts in GIFS: (because I’m cool like that) [Insert Emoji with sunglasses]

The part I weeped pretty hard inside when the scenes were set up via Expectations VS Reality for Tom.

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The Penis Game.

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The beautiful moment Tom tried to show Summer his world of architecture.

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The scene where they pretended to be a couple and Tom exclaimed “Huh. All 4 of our sinks are working” and Summer raced him to the bedroom. (I’m sorry there is no GIF for this. But then again WHY aren’t there GIFS for this?!)

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That INFAMOUS, gutsy scene that describes every boiling emotion

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And that’s all for this week babes. The weekend is almost there- you know you can see it!

Have a great day tomorrow!

XOXO

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Hi guys!

Miss A is back; sorry she was gone so long. But last week has been especially hectic.

Monday marked the start of my PR internship at a social marketing company and then BOOM work and distractions continued to pile up. At one point I was carrying so much I think I could hardly look at my toes. But alright. If we were being honest here, I would say I disappeared because of 20% work and 80% distractions.

Lately I’ve been on my toes because of a particular person… and exploring my emotions because I guess that’s what you do as a teenager. Guess and Check.

Searching for my identity reminded me of a poem I wrote during my good old underclassman days when I was just another perky, quirky 16 year old. And I thought it would be great if I shared a little slice of my past since I haven’t written much lately. 😦 The poem I’m about to share was actually done for a Creative Writing class but it was one of my writings that I dwelled on alot during the brainstorm stage, because I tried so hard to put all my emotions and expressions into scribbles on a page, even more so because I had to step out of my shoes and look at myself from a third person point of view. But  this poem makes me smile a little sometimes when I think of my old self and how much of a ball of sunshine I used to be.

All these things

I am

A word, phrase, and quote from my favorite movie I’ve seen countless times

A stranger sitting on a subway seat, watching as people carry their instruments and burdens

Stale, crumbly ciabatta and the redolence of yesterday’s blue cheese and cherry tomatoes waiting to be indulged in the fridge

Black fibers unraveling and stray ends on a new, white polyester sweater in my closet

I am

Coffee splotches on the yellowish, dog- eared pages strung together with a thin string in my favorite book

Words tangling in throat, tongue knotting in mouth, heart thrashing in chest when my eyes meet yours

Dark circles, blood-shot eyes, half-hearted smile and all chaos in the early morning

Balled-up blank sheets, yanked-out chunks of hair and close-knit eyebrows in the late evening

I am

Neon pink earplugs and fidgety eyes, staring vacantly out the window in the car ride

Steady beads of perspiration and a synchrony of footsteps and pants on an empty street at the break of dawn

Quiet crinkly eyes, dimpled smile, and wrinkled nose around my friends

20 seconds of insane courage when adrenaline course through my veins

Random splutters of snorts in reminiscence of the good times in the past

I am

Unexpected flamboyant flamingos, sudden streaks of red and orange and swollen  swarms of butterflies

The smudges of color outside the intended lines

The breathing, living journal of yesterday

The verve of here and now.

On that positive note, make the best out of the rest of your week guys! Remember to stop in your tracks once in a while and open your eyes a little bigger and your heart a little wider. Let everything that coming in through your 5 senses swallow you up and let it be part of you even for just a second. It has always made finding myself and my place in this world a little easier.

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Franny Choi.

For so long has Button Poetry been my rude but much-needed awakening from my monotonous trance I call life. If someone were to challenge me to change a life in 3 minutes, I would slap down Button Poetry’s Youtube address so hard on the table my hands would be permanently stained pink. My most recent obsession is Button Poetry Goddess Franny Choi.

 

A Korean American writer, performer, teacher, Brown graduate, LEGEND, Franny Choi is one of the most original poets I have ever met. Every word in her poem is delivered with a punch to the soul; I am most amazed by her authentic, heavy-weighted words that drip with raw passion, a thirst to express her digested musings and fragments of experience. If she were just any other poet, the praises would stop there. But Franny not only possesses talent in creating ideas but also delivering them. Her metaphors are so intricate and just so relatable you feel like they are YOUR words too. Once they crawl into your ears, there is no extracting them out. I secretly suspect that they decompose there until the creature in your skull absorbs them. Then when the time is right for you to shine, the words become fuel for your own expression.

My personal favorite poem by Franny is “Pork Fried Rice.”

“You want me lunch special. Thank you,come again!

You want me here. I am greasy for you.

I slick my hair with MSG every morning. I am bad for you.”

Performed at NYC’s Intangible Slam in 2012, the poem follows the injection of thorns into the skins of women by an insensitive patriarchal facet of society. It shines light on the ways women are diminished and crumpled into objects of mockery and obscenity. It makes you nauseous and raises a billion questions in your head about the indoctrination of vulnerability undergone by women all with 3 words: a classic Chinese take out order. Talk about powerful!

If you decide to do yourself a favor and check her out, the links are all below darlings! You can purchase her book of poems “Floating Brilliant Gone” and read her other poems on her website.

Youtube:
Pork Fried Rice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS56hTj4XT4
POP!goesKOREA!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjX03sOiLE0
Ring around the Rosie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVI3NQSWoLA
All Look Same: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1-oP3oez_k
Website: http://frannychoi.com/
Sincerely,
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A tribute to my last home.


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We all have our Square Ones; mine… was Shanghai. Although for the longest time, my stubborn alternate ego brainwashed me into thinking that Singapore would forever be my only home (my spiritual half; my soul-city because after all everything familiar was there, it was just a stranger’s motto I would recite countless times so I would actually feel secure. Because I would then know who I was- a hard core Singaporean who was so homesick sometimes she had to stand in her shower just a little longer than usual. But that wasn’t entirely true.

The truth was that though my shy side sometimes got the better of me, my confident, innately curious, exotic side really wanted out. It wanted to burst out of me and transform me into this admirable stranger and it did in Shanghai. A fish out of water, a bilingual “Americanized” Singaporean in the streets stood out more sorely than I had expected.

My leverage was my position as a foreigner because I watched more closely than anyone else the sunburnt locals and their dirt-coated fruit carts hiccupping beside the pavement speckled with spit and the children outside local rice stalls crouching beside the cute stray cats. Nevermind the giant shopping malls and screaming skyscrapers the vibrant streets were so much more exciting. For once, I pushed away my oblivion because I wanted to observe and remember.

That was when my hands began to speak more than my lips.