Showing posts with label Sara Ann K. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sara Ann K. Show all posts

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Where are you?

I am at work.

Meet up? Haven't seen you in ages.

Hmm... ok. Wait. Is it your birthday or something just in case I missed it?

You already wished me on my birthday.

oh. *sheepish grin* Sorreeeeee.... Forgot la. Ahjumma liao...

See you in ___ at XX.


And so, I went. 

"Let's get out of here."

"Huh, but I just got here."

"Ok, We'll stay for a while..."

"Err. Yeah. You asked me to come."

"Well, didn't you come to send me back home?"

"hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. I'll have an orange juice."

"Btw, this is for you miss k," he said, as he handed me a rose with a roguish grin.

My eyebrows shot to my scalp. 

Within less than 30 mins, I found myself in a cab and being pushed out in front of a house that I do not live in.


"I'm sorry.., " he said.

"Huh? About?"

"Us."

"Huh? Where is this coming from?"

"Nah.. I've just been thinking. And I'm really sorry. I never.. handled it well. Two years ago."

"Geez babe. Like you said, it's two years ago."

"Yeah. But... I am sorry. I could have handled things better. It was just, too intense for me."

Flashes, flitted through my mind as we sat there, comfortable in each other's company. Memories flooding back.

"I know. I knew even then, you couldn't handle it at that point. You were still... getting over stuff...," I said.

"Do you think we would have worked?" He asked. His expressive face, looking boyishly charming. And those dimples. Damn. Those dimples. 

"We could have couldn't we. I just messed up," he said before I could even reply.

"Nah. You were going through stuff. You weren't ready. But if you were... I guess. Yes. We could have."

"But, I'm ready now. I'm changing. I want to change. I am not drinking so much. I'm slowing down. No more partying."

I looked at him and laughed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Do you think... I still have a shot?"

I think, I looked at him with a mixture of sadness. and a quizzical smile.

It was.. so long ago.

And yet... there were still some.. feelings. Residual chemistry perhaps. Even the slight, excitement that maybe, this time.. some thing could really work.

I think, we both still had a soft spot for each other. But.. even with those soulful eyes and those charming dimples and that megawatt smile..... 

Something was different. 

We chatted. And chatted. And chatted. And it felt like, the days, months, years, had not gone by at all. It felt.. the same. Comfortable.

And yet.........

I just knew. A part of me wanted to try. Was still tempted to try. I knew I could.. But.....

There was that gut feeling... that the moment had passed him by.



I believe that, if a person is right. You will make the time right. I don't believe in the concept of right person, wrong time. If you feel it is the right person. You will make it the right time. Or you will turn back, to try and make things right again. To make it the right time.

I thought back to the time I thought he was.. well, a possibility. We spent every waking moment chatting to each other. Talking. Hanging out. It was intense. It was fun. It was.. pretty amazing. But there was always this... niggling feeling.

But it continued going strong even when we both were away for a month.. And when we got back too. Just that after a boys trip he took with his mates ...... after he let his pals voices, opinions... their teasing and ribbing get to him.. He pulled back.

And when that happened... it hurt me.

I cut him out.




So far, in all my life, I think, I've only had that..... feeling of dead certainty - you know the one people tell you about... the, "you'll know when you know" that this person was something special to you- type feeling .... Once. Once in my whole life.

I always had times.. intense beginnings, that crashed and burned equally fast. Where I some times would think... hmm.. yeah.. maybe...... could be... who knows... it feels nice. Yup, I think he could be...

But only once. Once in my whole life... did I feel like someone stopped me dead in my tracks. And there was this... "OMG. Where have you been? You're finally here!" type feeling. Where it felt like.. my whole soul came alive with this person...  That all the feelings, emotions filled me with a mixture of happiness, though it was tinged fear. (Probably, more a... is this even real. Nothing can be this good. Can anyone even be this happy? This is probably going to end badly if it feels this awesome. Because nothing can be that awesome!)

But there was always this... thing. A gut feeling. That this person... was more than something special. 


And no, that person, was not TLOML. (In fact, it took me two years with TLOML, to realise that I loved him, and think, yes.. this might be the person for me.)

This other person, pretty much came in like a wrecking ball. Because it was so intense, and I felt, so connected, even on a telepathic level almost... it felt like, we had already known each other forever. 

The thing is... we never did know each other. And I don't think he ever tried.

Which was.... a pity.

I guess, the fact that nothing ever worked out despite that strong gut feeling that I had.. that feeling of certainty almost. I'm not sure any more. I don't know if I can ever believe in my gut again. I keep.... second guessing myself.

I only know... that with me... once the moment passes.. I guess... I'm not sure if it can ever be gotten back.


I guess...

Yet again. Whatever will be, will be.

Que Sera Sera.

xx
sara


Thursday, May 22, 2014

Penguins

Recently, I've been thinking a lot about Penguins. For a few months now.

How they pretty much mate for life in monogamous relationships.

I have lately been pondering that a lot. Whether or not it's possible. Maybe over time... my faith and trust in men.. and in a lot of the male species... hasn't been the strongest.

Recent events, probably chipping away at it even more.

I know that at one point, I was certain I had found my penguin.

Except... I think the real deal, would never abandon you.

Saw this ad today before a screening of X-Men...
And I totally teared up.





Pretty cool ad, eh?

If only...
=D



*curtsy*

xx
sara

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Weird week for pickup lines.

Ok.. So last week, or was it week before.. that I got picked up at the cab stand by a really cute... soon-to-be-divorced man.

But this week.... had a couple of dingers.

BEST PICK-UP LINE SARA HAD THIS WEEK

Context: At a very swish Hermes party, called Men On The Move, which was a super cool installation that took over the whole of the old Kallang Airport. Complete with the most divine food. Very beautiful people. Honestly. Events, hardly get that good. (Kudos to the team behind it btw. Amazing.)

Ok. Now why I am giving this context as well is, these dos are usually rather "insider". Hardly any "picking up" is done because everyone there is who's who. And everyone knows everyone else. In fact, the thing to watch out for most of the time, are the bitchfights. The subtle snubs. And how people who hate each other, handle taking photos together like the best of friends.

So... enter, Venture Capitalist. Smartly dressed. Booming Aussie voice. 30's. Very.. energetic. Like a dude on red bull.

"HI, WE'RE GOING TO BE FRIENDS. WHAT'S YOUR EMAIL?" *proffers phone.

I have to say. I was actually mildly amused, I did give it to him.


THE ONES THAT DID NOT WORK

STILL AT THE HERMES PARTY

"Did I just steal your milk tea?" - mildmannered, well-dressed, but rather handsome guy. Who, wasn't aggressive enough, he got cut off by aforementioned Aussie. Waited around for a while. But... left dejectedly after a while when Aussie guy just dominated.

*sara... looking mildly disappointed that the milk tea got spirited away

"Are you are fan of GOT. You look, very well presented. But you look like you have a kinky side." - description of aforementioned gent shall not be provided in case of incriminating .. err... traits.

*sara... O_O

"Take a photo of me, and you can go downstairs.. and you see that bike on display.. it's mine. Tell them my name, show them the photo, and I bet you they'll let you take it." - mop haired gent.

*sara . . . . . . . and your point is?? .... hmm... okthxbai

OUT OF THE PARTY - and everywhere else

After dinner. Meeting for the first time. After I supposedly met him 5 years ago or something. And speaking with him casually on Facebook for a while.

"Next time we meet, we should be on a holiday together."

*sara. ..... huh?! This was a date?! Ok. I really have been a little out of this dating thing maybe. Geez. How rusty am I at this.


On Facebook.

"Want to come over and cuddle? Seriously. Just cuddle."

*sara ... err... No.

AND...

Well. Just so you know as well, that strange things like that DO HAPPEN TO ME.
ALL THE FRIGGING TIME...

Exhibit 1.

Wed. Apr 30.


Ok. I am also. Not quite sure what this one was about. Really.
Well.
I do.

He just totalled PUA - negged me.
And then brought me up again.

Tsk. Seriously guys. THE GAME?

YOU WANT TO USE THE GAME TACTICS ON ME? The one person in SG who did a full documentary feature serious called Expose' on playa tactics?

err...

Ok.

Moving swiftly on.


Earlier today. Sat. May 3rd. After already, politely ignoring a previous direct message that said "You look familiar.. Where have I seen you before. I want to get to know you more..."




OBVIOUSLY.

Because telling a chick you want to get to know... that she does not exist. And then... tagging her in that photo. ALWAYS WORKS.

Ok. That said. The YOU DO NOT EXIST thing, might have worked on me, if I was Jane/Jain. But I'm not.

OH..

And the follow up...



In direct message.

Seriously.

I don't even get the photo. What's with the barbells... on that cutesy mat. With food on it. FOOD.

AND THE NEXT ONE.

This was DM on twitter. I have a rule. Don't lead people on. But. Be polite. Be nice. Be real. Be you.

Never know when you could make a new friend right?

But... can I just repeat again....

One of the things a journalist HATES the most.. (esp as a line) Variants of... "Why don't you write an article on me."

This guy.. has been trying for... close to a mth. These are the DM's. And btw... what I do. IS ON MY PROFILE. ON TWITTER. WHY ASK ME WHAT I DO?

Only the person's name has been edited out to protect his identity.


NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

AND BTW.. the conversation STILL continued... after a tweet I sent out. Saying how much I hated the "write something on me" as a pickup line. But.. ok. Dude is not a bad guy. So.

Part 1. 22 days ago

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.
Part 2: At least the first time. He does not ask. Though, dinner is already offered.

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

Part 3: AND THERE IT IS.

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

Part 4. And yet again. He brings up what he does.


Ok.

This is in no way to humiliate or harm or hurt any of the above people featured.

Just.

Gah.

Guys. SERIOUSLY?



Sigh.

I do miss good ole' witty banter and natural chemistry.

But like my good pal MMO said.. "Eh, you know, this is the year that we are both supposed to find our significant other, if we have not already found the person yet."

Uh huh. I do know this babe.

Which is why I am keeping my doors, and my mind, wiiiiide open.



Fate. You have all my attention..

Cos you never know, when you might just have a date with destiny.

So... always have to kiss a few toads to get to the right frog, yes?

*rubbing luckycharm's belly for luck*

=)

*curtsy*

xx
sara

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Of Gentlemen and Chemistry


I have forgotten how nice it is, to be brought out on a proper date.

For a meal. Not necessarily super expensive. But nice. On a date. Like.. a real date.

Where someone is actually trying to woo you. Court you.

Someone who tells you, you are worth it. And treats you as such.

A gentleman. Who treats you like a lady.

And it was.... nice.



Maybe, chemistry and connection, are highly overrated. I think, the only two times I've been hit... they killed me. And look where they've gotten me. Took me 10 years to get over TLOML. 5 years in the relationship, trying to get out. And 5 years out of the relationship, trying to get in.

After *TLOML, I promised myself. Never again. But at the same time, every love was compared to that. Measured by that.

For a long time I wondered if I could really ever love again.... or if I was just.... numb.

Because as much as I fought, and ran from it... nothing compared to it. If I didn't feel the same.. I wondered if I was settling. If I even loved the person.

Funnily enough, lightning did strike twice. And perhaps. Even harder. What took me 2 years to realise with TLOML, I sensed almost immediately with... TOWRA. Thankfully.. this was not another 10 year epic. Though, 1 year. Is bad enough methinks.


So why reconsider my stance on chemistry and connection?

Especially when I might have mentioned before, the one time I totally skipped that and went against my gut feeling, and went with what my mother and friends had felt was best for me (and I liked him... enough... I guess) ... that turned out to be the most horrible, abusive, two year relationship of my life?!


Like an old friend - who messaged me yet again, after another drunken night out at godknowswhattime in the morning... to ask me.. yet again... If I would think about going on a date with him. (This is... his third time, asking in a drunken state in... 2 mths?) - said, after I asked him, "err.. why? We've known each other for a long time. And you know we're friends.."

"Because Sara. Love can come from anywhere."


Maybe he has a point?

Maybe each time I've told him, err. No. We're friends. No.

Maybe I should say... Perhaps?


Because.. that was how I landed up having dinner yesterday, with someone who I met a few years ago. I gave it a chance, right?

I hate it whenever people have said I'm fussy. Because, I really am not. I just, go with my gut. And how I feel.

Just that. Well. The gut and the feels... hahahahahaha... have really only happened twice! So far.

Another friend I was chatting with on Facebook the other day again brought up the, "But you're too fussy."

"I'm not la. I really just.. look for a connection right? Because that's what it's all about."

"Well Sara, isn't insisting on having a connection... being fussy?"


I have to say. It made me think.

So.. If that is the case. Then. I guess, there are 3 more people I owe dates to.

Before possibly considering the friend.

And no...

I didn't call guy at Taxi stand.

And no...

I haven't set up Tinder or Okcupid.


YET.


I don't know why I guess I haven't. And I can't explain it... except that...  I know I don't need to.

Somehow, I just know.. that whatever I have wanted. This year.. I will get.

I've always felt that what will be, will be.

And whatever is meant to be, God/The Universe, will send to me.


Given.... ok. I know I've made my mistakes before. Like with TLOML. And no matter what I did, and no matter how much we both tried after that mistake... we just.. couldn't.

Trust was gone.

Broken.


So.. I also have to bear in mind. That sometimes, it's not just what God/The Universe that sends it to us.

It's the choices we make too, with the cards we are dealt.


And since I learnt my lesson and got seriously burnt... At least I know now, not to make the same mistake.

Funny how history repeats itself even 12 years later though eh. Surreal. Same timing too. Never expected the role reversal. But, karma bites like a bitch. And I have an ass that allows for good aim.



So. Onwards. Here we go.

Let the games begin.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

All the bad kisses.. the hits, and the misses



Now..

THAT WAS INTENSE!

And geesh. Ok, if boyfriends kissed that well. *swoon* Our tiny island of Singapore would not be having this re-population/not-enough-baby-making problems at all. I mean seriously. A kiss like that could get a girl pregnant.
*for those under the age of 16 in Singapore and if you're reading this blog, then you might be my nieces and nephews and therefore, what the hell are you doing here. Go study! And if you're not, and you still don't know how babies are made. Sharing straws kids. A lot can happen when you share straws.

Now I wrote a post about kissing ages ago when I still used to be "a blogger" - under the FOR MEN series. I remember writing on the different kinds of horrible kisses I've had. That post in itself. More than 10k hits in one day. I'm not quite sure whether people were more tickled at the fact that I've had such horrifying experiences, or if there genuinely are that many bad kissers around...

But, this is afterall, 10 years later. I come armed with more than just the 5 types of bad kisses I first wrote about.

*gasp*

I know.

Seriously.

To be fair, maybe it was just bad kiss karma. You may get two great kissers, but put them together and they might not work. (Though, there was a recent experiment on strangers kissing for the first time, that makes me think, this might not be true.
Watch that video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpbDHxCV29A )

Now, I am struggling to remember when was my first kiss. Honestly, zero recollection. But ask me which were the best, and the steamiest...

A coy smile will start breaking out on my face and you'll see that I have officially left the building and my brain has gone to lalaland.

But ah...

Good kissers, just like good men, are hard to find.


THE GOOD.THE BAD. THE UGLY.

1 - Eat Face/ Face attack aka Face-off

When a guy attacks you like he is trying to eat your face.

Looks somewhat like...

An alien attack. 

Yes. Not quite attractive. It literally looks like they are attacking each others faces and honestly, reminds me of a zombie movie.

It felt like Nicholas Cage was trying to eat my face off my skull.
I felt like I was being mauled. Not great. Well not for me at least.

2 - The Hoover

The one that sucks too darned hard.

Yes. Many of you might not have heard or experienced this before. And trust me. This is your good fortune.

I don't know when I experienced this, whether or not it was the combination of youth, lack of experience, hyperactive hormones and a dose of over enthusiasm, but this.. the hoover- is exactly like the vacuum. It sucks and sucks and sucks.

My partner was so vigorous, I literally, sprained my tongue.

I couldn't move it for days. And when I looked in the mirror, it actually looked bruised on the underside.

I kid you not.

I was reduced to eating plain porridge and congee for at least a week while my tongue was out of action.

#notfunny

Was just discussing with a pal Felicia S. Ha. Her experience? A bruised lip from this treatment.

3- Windscreen wiper

Stick out your tongue. Now move it to the left. Now to the right. Now increase the motion by 100x.




Yup.
Not a fan. Especially when its shallow it just feels like someone is trying to squeegee your pearlies.

4- The Sotong 

There are many other names for this disaster of a kiss I would think. But I first called it the sotong, because when I was first at the receiving end of this - it felt like I was getting a slimy squid slapped all over my face.

In case you don't know what "Sotong" is, it's a colloquial term for squid. This type in particular.
Fleshy. Great on the grill and to eat. But not raw. And on your face.


Because this guy literally made out with almost ALL of my face, 
except for my lips. 

He was literally, sucking.face.  Everywhere. My cheeks. My nose. My forehead. Ears. Neck.

Not pecks mind you. Actual make outs. Medium pressure, languorous kissing with tongue.



Honestly. This is hot. But think this with A LOT MORE SALIVA.
And everywhere else on the face as well.
Not so hot.
Just. Very wet.
And not in a good way.


While I was sitting there in his car, paralysed in fear with the thoughts, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! What is wrong with my lips?! Why is his aim so bad?! What if I can't get out of here! I want to get out now!!!" running through my head, as he was making out with my jaw.. I made a silent note to self.....

If a dude is single. Hot. Has a great bod. A six-pack (abs, not beer). Great personality. Treats you like a princess. Fun to hang with. But isn't yet married when he's in his late 30's...
There might just be a reason for it.

And you know what they say about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks? I mean, while this was more like an over-enthusiastic labrador puppy... I really would rather not have to "train" a guy? I much rather have them "as is". No reno needed.

And yes. I did get zits on my face thereafter.

*shudder*


5- The Lizard/Frog




See that flick action. That quick in and out movement. Repeatedly. The multipost was not a mistake. Just that mine was sped up by 10 times. 

It actually is really unsatisfying. Especially if they are the type that does this fast, in and out, like a variant of the Windscreen wiper. 

Side note. This variety of kisser might be useful in another geographical region.

6- CPR

The "breath of life". Where the guy gives you, literally, a breathy kiss. But not in that sexy way. But he feels like he's blowing air into you.

If I had to illustrate, it probably would look somewhat like this.



Sounds like a recipe to getting gassy for me. 

7- The virginal and other variants (too little tongue)



Some call it the grandma kiss. Perfectly acceptable if you're three-years-old. Or if you've been married for more than a decade. It's a fast kiss. More of a punctuation mark. A peck is not an acceptable kiss from a grown man imho.
If you want to kiss me. Put your back into it.

The... ALL LIPS AND NO ACTION is equally unsatisfying. Here's an example:



8- The cirque du soliel and other circus acts (too much tongue)


I empathise with her bewildered look.


When an overenthusiastic tongue does gymastics in your mouth, it can feel like a washing machine

9- Chomp and chew

Some is fun.
Just don't put a hole in my tongue?

10- Octopus

Get it?
If you didn't- that's the basketball handsign for

TRAVELING.

Yes. Sort of an out of bounds illegal move where sometimes, you move too fast, and your feet get ahead of yourself, and you don't dribble the ball and keep it in play.

So please. Especially if it's the first kiss. Don't get all Octopussy. Handsy all over.


Mariah Carey might invite you to do that. But, I've found a guy with respectful hands, who doesn't start groping and pulling and tearing and actually gives the kiss all the attention it needs. Those kisses, tend to be mindblowing.

Case in point:

HOTTTTTTTTT!

So take it slow.

It'll get there. Especially if the kiss is intense and passionate. Things will escalate naturally. Don't make me feel like you're fumbling to tune the radio.

11- It's the sPits

You can more or less guess this one eh?

The ones with excess saliva. It's a monsoon in there.

12- The dentist

Have you ever had the ones that push their tongues in so deep that they feel like they are cleaning your molars?

#gagreflex

13- The fakers

These are the ones that watch too much television, and mimic TV kissing. Believe me, it was surreal.

It actually looks really good on camera. But there is NOTHING going on. Just usually, the guys jaw grinding enthusiastically like a hoochie-mama on the dancefloor.

My first brush with this was on a shoot. When photos came out, I was like... Whoa. That's hot. So when the guy asked me out. I thought, yeah. Why not?

Turns out. That was not just for the camera.

Sigh. Just like designer muscles. Oh so pretty. But what's the use.






So, I can't tell you for sure how you should kiss. Because I would not be able to tell you what you're doing wrong (if you are doing anything wrong). 

But everyone, judges whether or not they are compatible when they kiss.

If your teeth bump... you immediately think... dang. Maybe not so compatible afterall. Especially if it happens over and over again, right?

And essentially, most people use it as an indicator of how well they would work. It is a good yardstick for passion.


My personal favourite...

I love it when a guy slips his hand and cups my head...

LOVE.

If this is your Step 1. I'm already halfway to being sold.

And oh..
Doesn't everyone want a movie moment like this...




It's ok to start with a warm up kiss.... 
Especially if it's your first one...








Have fun, and tease a little...








But the best kind of kisses have the right combination of

1- pressure
2- lubrication
3- suction
4- lip
5- tongue

Personally, I like those that vary. Guys who deliver everything from sweet gentle kisses. To the super intense ones that go on forever and rob you of your breath. And then slow down, again.. to something tender. ALL IN ONE SESSION.

That is bliss.

I mean, whatever happened to the good old days of some good solid make outs?

Just... enjoying the kiss.






Either way... 

I hope you get kissed good ...
And give as good as you get ...

*wink*



Over and out.

*curtsy*
xx
sara

Monday, March 31, 2014

Gym etiquette: Should I walk around the gym naked after my shower?

NO.

In case that was not clear enough for you.

I am actually one of those girls who strangely enough, has hardly any care when in the proximity of friends. I have terrorised my close pals by walking out starkers when we are sharing rooms. Acknowledging their discomfort by barely shrugging on a bathrobe to cover my modesty. And yes, quite often at home, the dresscode is pantsfree.

Strangely enough, for someone who is that nonchalant about nudity in front of my mom/sis/good pals - I am strangely paranoid about being seen in swimwear. Trust me. I don't get it either. But tell me to put a swimsuit on, and I freak out. It was not easy for me being in the Supermodel or Miss Universe contests, I can tell you that much. There were lots of tears and howling. And that was just from my parents who did not like to think that their precious daughter was being paraded like meat in front of a live TV audience streamed to more than 1 million households in nothing more than skimpy pieces of cloth masquerading as swimwear.

But, in that same vein, while I am pretty cool about nudity around me, I do recall being rather perturbed, when I was working out at this gym that used to be at the heart of town.

The first gym I belonged to, I used to think of it as a hamster cage, as it was mostly glass and everyone could look through and see you sweating it out. A lot of the women wore make up to work out. Something I did not understand. (Still don't. So I look like crap when I work out. Thank you very much. And I don't smell like flowers either.)

But it was at this particular gym one day, when an aunty of about 40 - walked around starkers. Now, I can safely say that for someone in her 40's, she definitely was in good shape.

Till this day though, I cannot for the life of me remember her face (thank god), but I can remember most of her body, in particular, her rather hirsute pubic area, that was barely 7 inches from my face. Sans towel. Right in front of me.

O_O









Now fast forward to me now. In the work force. I would NOT want to see one of my clients/news-makers/bosses, in any form or manner of undress.

I am not the Russian Mafia. Turkish bathhouses are not my thing. I don't exactly need to see who I am dealing with without a stitch on to save his/her soul. (I am convinced they do meetings in bathhouses only for the easier clean-up) though I do get that you probably are likely to be more honest when you are feeling that vulnerable.

But even if I don't have to do business with you some time in the near future.

I kind of am not really keen on getting your sweaty body rubbed against mine.

For one, is there really a need?

I get that you are proud of your body. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Kudos. I'm glad for you.

But, even given my love for winging it Lady Godiva style, I use my "magic tricks" to get changed in the locker room.

Come on. All of us girls know a few.

The remove bra magic trick.

The change your underthings with towel still on trick - that most of us probably got used to during school days during PE sessions.

The shimmy and shake out trick.

The longer shirt that covers most things trick.

COME ON. Use some of these magical skills you learn in school. That's what they are there for.

We don't need to see your bits and bobs.

Speaking of which....


Ok. Rant over.

*curtsy*

P.S. I do think that hot bodies are given more leeway. And more people are likely to stare, and forgive hot bodies who strut their stuff. But quite honestly, you are already looking that good. Don't need to make others feel bad about it right?

Okthxbai.

xx
sara

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Porcelain..


I used to love this song.

Haunting melody. And it was around the time I met him too. Cool dude, a bit of a introverted poetic genius type. We talked about love. Life. And for some reason, I don't know why I can't seem to find it, but I remember him talking about his pole-dancing wife. But it was all so long ago.. so details are a bit fuzzy.

I'm sure he does not remember me at all. But when we talked about this song, he said something that he repeated in interviews...

That this song was about him breaking up with a woman he really loved, but who he never had business getting involved with in the first place.

Whenever I listened to it after, I could hear it. The pain in his vocals, that while raw and unpolished, rang true and truthful to his pain.


"Porcelain"
In my dreams I'm dying all the time
As I wake its kaleidoscopic mind
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant to lie
So this is goodbye
This is goodbye

Tell the truth you never wanted me
Tell me

In my dreams I'm jealous all the time
As I wake I'm going out of my mind
Going out of my mind




This is goodbye...

*curtsy*

xx
sara

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Wandering..


My feet are aching... but they are itching to leave...

To walk away, and traverse the endless paths that make up our universe.

I want to see. Do. Taste. Touch. Feel.

But my feet are bound. Not by culture. But by desk and by duty.

My passport, always on the ready. In my bag, like a gun in a holster, waiting to be drawn.

How wonderful it must be, to not be tied down to anything. To fly free. And experience all that life has to offer.

How amazing it would be, to do that with you.

The more I experience, the more I realise, that we are not unique. That our experiences, our emotions, sometimes, even our fates and destinies... others have seen, thought, felt, or gone through before.

Like we are drawing from a collective memory bank. Making withdrawals from the same pool of shared experiences.

How else does it explain a poet, so accurately expressing what I feel in words..

A song, so perfectly capturing my tears.

How else does it explain so many people, on instagram, all over the world, professing that they too, are like you. They want the same things. Go the same places.

But they are not you..

We are all as unique as everyone else...

=)

*curtsy*
xx
sara




p.s. A friend once likened me to the movie Runaway Bride. I guess, it is true.

I do tend to run away.

When will I find someone who will want to make me stay? Not because I feel a need to. Not because I feel like I have to. But because I want to.

A question that was shot to Julia Roberts' character in Runaway Bride, when people around her told her that all she did, was conform or adapt to the guys she was with.... how do you like your eggs?

Well. That's just it right? It usually depends on my mood and where I am. I just love eggs. Scrambled with cheese, and when I fluff them up with a splash of milk and add a lil truffle salt. Egg white omelettes. Or stuffed with a spinach ricotta mix. Poached - eggs benedict. Hard boiled sometimes, with a dollop of mayo, or sambal. And at others, half-boiled, with a dash of dark or light soya sauce, with pepper.

I guess, what I need, is not the eggs. But a chef who can make them all.

Sigh. It's so tough to find someone who knows or can keep all my plates spinning.

Meanwhile, my mind.. and my heart.. keep wandering.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Of pets

Rescuing a terrified abandoned dog - The transformation



I love this video on many ways. In some,  because I've seen the rise of abandoned/lost dogs in the last few weeks, and it has pained me.

As I looked up the definition of pet, I had a revelation...
pet 1   (pĕt)
n.
 An animal kept for amusement or companionship.
 3. A person especially loved or indulged; a favorite: the teacher's pet.
adj.
 Kept as a pet: a pet cat.
 Particularly cherished or indulged: a pet grandchild.
 Expressing or showing affection: a pet name.
 Being a favorite: a pet topic.
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I think the thing I have a problem with,  is the definition that a pet is kept for amusement or companionship. A plaything.

That is absolutely selfish.

All those responsible pet ownership campaigns. They are absolutely true.  Choosing to have one,  is a lifetime commitment. It is cruel to get a pet,  and then change your mind just because it doesn't fit your lifestyle anymore. It's not cute anymore. It's not what you wanted anymore. And then just leave.

It reminded me of a passage in The Little Prince, where the Fox was explaining that once you have tamed something, made it your own,  it will always belong to you. Like the rose. It is why we are taught not to feed wild animals, because when you do, they become domesticated, dependant. Needing to rely on you. And when that happens, when that human contact is gone, and the creature has lost its animal instincts it becomes vunerable.

It can't feed itself as well. It becomes a sitting duck for hunters and poachers for instance.

Abandoning an animal, something that you loved and cared for, and loved and cared for you in its own way in return, is one of the most cruel things any one can do.

Watching the clip, I realised that we're like this dog as well. After being abandoned, betrayed, disappointed by another human just vanishing...  we often don't realise the hurt still remains. Maybe we've already lost hope. Think we're better off by ourselves, and become bitter and choose to be alone, rather than hurt again.

The thing is, if you look at the definition of pet, pet also means something deeply loved and cherished. It is why in literature,  "my pet" was often used as a term of affection. Something treasured above all else. And we all, naturally, want to be loved,  cherished and adored.

It's not like this poor doggy did not want love or food. It was ferocious because it was acting on pure instinct putting self-defense mechanisms on. Self-preservation.

The last time it was touched by a human, was probably when it's owner left it somewhere, and never came back. Maybe there was a crowd of naughty local boys who teased the poor dog, tempted the hungry thing with food, and when it came close enough, put cans on its tail, or lit it on fire.

That's why when humans came close again, it snarled. Snapped. Growled.

It was terrified, shaking and quivering with fear. Not having faith or trust that there was good in the world anymore.

Patience.

Time.

A person willing to take that chance and risk being bitten.

And most importantly. .. love.

Look at how the doggy transformed when real, true love was sowed.

She blossomed into a beautiful, happy little dog again. Willing to give and receive love again.

And that my dears, is what so many of us are like.

We're hurt. Terrified. Scared and scarred by our pasts. And sometimes, like these animals, we are unable to speak about them too.

Till we meet that one person, who helps us learn how to trust and brings out the best in us all over again.
I don't know if I've met that person yet. I don't know if that person is you. .. or maybe someone I might meet next week.

But that whoever that person is for me, I know you will have the patience to try, try, try. You won't be scared away by the snapping and the growling. And you won't give up. Because that's what I will promise I will do with you too once you have my heart.

Everyone needs a little rescuing some times. And for all we know,  you might rescue me ... and land up realising, I saved you too.

xx
sara

*curtsy*

Friday, November 15, 2013

'Scuse me I'm a blogger

So there was a huge commotion and ruckus rather recently in cybersphere between two people I do know.

In one corner we have a very upright, standup type of guy who I've known for ages. He was sent a rather nasty email that came from a blogger who threatened, rather maliciously to smear the reputation of his business because of a tardy email reply.

In the other corner, a young girl whom I've met, and on all occasions has been nothing but sociable and friendly. A blogger who seemed to be very enthusiastic about her new foray into the realm of social media AS A JOB.

Yes. I repeat. BLOGGING AS A JOB.

Why I bring this story up? It is not because I am keen on rehashing old news. Hence why I am not even bothering sharing the screen grabs of the email. The comments that followed. Or even her reply.

First of all. My name was tagged in the post that eventually went viral. Because yes. I used to blog.

What is this I am reading now then? You might ask.

Well. Ok. This is a blog. Kinda. Sorta.

I write musings when I feel up to it. And I usually rely mostly on social media to express myself. This is very different from when I maintained a blog as #hostsara on #moblogs. A website that was truly before its time, and pioneered by two really cool people at Singtel.
-------
Background/ Backstory

The blog was awesome because way back in 2003, anyone, when registered as a moblogger, could upload diary entries via sms. Much like a tweet. To update your status.

If you wanted to write slightly more, you could even upload an MMS- a picture, with longer text, very similar to what Instagram is today.

You could also upload videos via MMS - which is very similar to what instagram has, except - even better. Because as you could upload about 30 seconds of video- or whatever was compressable for an MMS. 

Then of course, you could go on to the website, and blog like you would on wordpress or livejournal or blogger. With ease. And all the different trimmings like add a pic etc.

You could also have galleries. Much like facebook and flickr. When I would go for a trip for instance, I would upload 30 to 40 photos in there, to show people what my trip was like.

And that's not all. One of the key features of the site, was its ability to let users talk to each other via sms. Without the exchange of phone numbers. Therefore making it much safer. Very much like the twitter platform, all you had to do was send an sms, starting with the nickname of the moblogger you wanted to leave a message for, and voila. He or she would receive it on their phone. Real time. Like a real sms. And they'd know its from you because your nickname would be there.

We had several cool things that we did as well. We had moblog mydreamd8. The winners, Posha Rai and Edmund Heng, met during that contest. Went on the lovely romantic cruise they had won. AND - they are still happily married to each other till this day. I think that's pretty cool.

We had moblog idol - that unveiled stars like Desmond Tan and Andie Chen, who are now bonafide actors and superstars in their own right.

We even had Samsung idol, where people competing to win new Samsung technology would write posts and contributions made on their samsung devices.

And, we had National Day moblogs. Which- let me tell you. Was incredible. People who registered and smsed during the National Day Parade (including people like famous director Jack Neo) would get their messages flashed across the TV screens like "dedications".

Sadly this service did not reach its full potential because users were limited to people who had registered mobile phone numbers that started with +65.

Moblogs, sadly, was eventually terminated by Singtel, who deemed the service not profitable, somewhere in 2006. 

A shame. Considering apps with way less functionality, have sold for way more in recent days. 

--------

At the height of this hostsara.moblogs.com phase, I would actually get more than 6000 smses a day from fans who wrote to me. Spoke to me. And have live, real time conversations with me.

I'd get more than 10 thousand unique hits a day on my blog alone.

And despite all this "power" and "fame" - never. Ever. Did I use this for the wrong reason.

Now I know that STOMP has its good qualities. As does the immediacy of social media.

There is this thing that I have talked about with a friend who I consider a "powerful blogger" - with a reach of more than 100k followers on twitter alone that he termed, "THE POWER OF A TWEET".

I myself, have seen its might.

I have had instances where a earpiece is practically melded to my face, while I am put on hold after my psycho-motor skills have been tested by a series of complicated button-pressing routines issued to me by a robot. Only to be rewarded by hours of ghastly elevator music- probably the aforementioned robot showing off her skills- while my jaw starts to lock and my chin starts to cramp.

I can think of more pleasurable occasions to reach the latter combination I might add.

The worst is when after a loooong wait, you hear static, a distant voice trying to say hello in an accent you recognise as foreign, before hearing it. THE TONE OF DISCONNECT DEATH.

After several harrowing experiences, I have resorted to tweeting my problems. Adding in the handle of the companies in question.

Most, reply with startling immediacy. Usually never exceeding 24 hours.

(I could elaborate, and give examples of companies which have done this well, and those which have poor social media skills, but I don't want to let people think this is a sponsored post.)

But, this is truly an amazing phenomenon.

In my years as a journalist, I found that I started writing less on my blogs. Also, because my opinions expressed always have to explicitly be stated as my own, and not my employers. Coupled with the fact that I maintained really long and irregular work hours with lots of writing involved I usually was all written out at the end of a work day. My blogging dwindled to well...

Let's just say that my 5 blogs have missed me and if they were hooked up to a heart rate monitor, they would have flatlined.

But in those years, I also saw how journalists had a considerable disdain for bloggers. Not only were these social media sluts now taking up the front rows in fashion shows, usually reserved for editors, they were cramping them out of food tastings. They were being treated like celebrities. They were being lavished with gifts that us, as credible journalists, are not allowed to receive, and must declare to our superiors. Most of the time, these items are sold. Donated with the sale money going to charity. Or, if editors deign us as worthy of a little treat or two, allow us the privilege of "buying" the item. (Proceeds also donated to charity.)

Well. I'm not sure about you, but that is how it works in my current place of employment.

Is this bad? Well. Truly. It does suck for us. But, the superiors, in their divine wisdom, purport the fact that they do not want us to be bought. Our reviews. Our opinions. Cannot be sold for the price of a snazzy new piece of technology that others might queue for hours to obtain.

They do not want us to sing praises of a fashion show that might have literally, been rucksacks draped on a model, to be described of as "ethereal", "must buy" or "genius", just because the fashion house might have gifted us with an It Bag.

Bloggers however, are exempt from these limitations.

They are gifted. A lot. And often.

And many of them, are paid. SERIOUS SUMS OF MONEY. Very much more than what we, as journalists are paid.

Rumour has it that a certain doyenne of blogging, who did steadily gain fame after participating in the first Moblog contest, makes $150 THOUSAND a year. Kudos to her.

I myself have wondered what the heck am I doing, working this hard. Sometimes for not so pleasant people in charge of my destiny - (I have to interject and say my current boss is ace) - when people like the aforementioned blogger, with her steady following, has photos on her instagram advertising a good deal. A discount offered to getting your stuff featured on her instagram site for a mere $600. SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS.  IS A DISCOUNT. So she will wear the clothes she is given. Or use the products she is gifted. And feature them in photographs.

GENIUS.

Seriously.

I wonder why I even stopped blogging. Sigh.

If there is ever a have your cake and eat it too moment. I am guessing, this is it.

There are also the ones who get free trips. Flown all over the place. Get free meals. Free stays. Free air tickets.

And the thing is... the more reliable ones. The ones who actually do have a legitimate following. Are revered. They can make or break your restaurant or hotel with a single blog review. So if you want them to write something nice. They are paid. And then courted like the world's most beautiful woman.

Now, being friends with professional bloggers myself. I know some of the frustrations. People immediately assume you are a freeloader some times who will be content with a free ride. If blogging is your livelihood - adsense or nuffnag, will hardly be enough to sustain you. These are people who have gone off the grid. Some who gave up legitimate jobs to do what they love with no gurantee of a monthly income. So sponsored reviews and advertorials, are the only way to make a decent living.

But, because of this. Despite the whole blogging industry sagging over the last few years. Blogging has again, become big business. Blogging. Burgeoning. Boom.

Where previously, every Tom, Dick, Harry and Sally called themselves a model, even if they had merely a blogshop face. Now, every other person, left right and centre, is a blogger. And with the obvious perks, including companies kowtowing at your feet and throwing gifts your way in fear of getting bad press in the big worldwideweb, everyone including my cousin's friend's grandfather's neighbour and her kitchen sink - has been trying to get on the bandwagon.

The tale of a dude, who totally quit his job a few years ago, just so he could live his dream and travel is not so novel anymore. Where writing a blog for him to journal his life might have been unique back then, now there are a thousand-and-one others who write lists. Give you the top five things to do in a city. Who go on free travel junkets and send one or two pictures and write one miserable post that maybe, realistically, only ten people read.

Where the Sartorialist and his partner -whom he met through his sartorial travels- Garance Dore, used to take pictures of fashionable people at fashion shows or in fashionable cities were once considered out of the box. Unique. Cool. It was not long before other famous sites with a similiar slant, like The Facehunter emerged. And now, at every fashion show in every major city, and even in small towns, there are aspiring fashion bloggers and rail-thin tweens trying to be the next Rumi Neely or Bryanboy - whom we know, has already made it to mainstream fame with his stint on America's Next Top model as the social media judge - being photographed and paparazzied not just by legit press, but by any DSLR-toting hipster/Sartorialist-wannabe who owns a style blog.

So naturally, it didn't take long for fashion companies to cotton on and throw outfits and accessories to those regularly featured. Who, probably, are way easier to handle, and less demanding than celebrities. Camera companies, phone companies were also quick to throw their goods at those who would take these photos.

So let's talk about these blogs then for a moment. Some aren't blogs anymore. They've migrated to legitimate .com sites. Domains that are their own. Named after themselves. That they maintain themselves. They lend a site more credibility. Like a legit business. It is also why I don't consider myself a blogger because one of these very same professionals, called this very blog "a mickey mouse site". Because I have no focus. No one thing. And this blog is functioning as I thought blogs should. Personal musings. As and when I like. Not limiting me to one topic. A blog by definition, is an online journal afterall. Apparently, I am naiive. This is MY site. And I hardly even spellcheck. But this is my sanctuary. And I'm not being paid to do this as a source of my income. So... like it. Or leave it.

And can I just say, while some of these sites are completely entertaining. Some of the blogs, are exactly as blogs usually are. Self-indulgent. This is fine if you are like me, and aren't professing yourself to be a professional.

But. Selfies. Ootds. Outfits that scream - this was given to me for free/ I was invited to a sample sale if not I really could not afford this. Why are they being paid to also get free stuff. *pout* I ALSO WANT!

Some lead glamourous lifestyles, being flown all over the world and wined and dined. Let's not forget, these are usually accompanied by the annoying humble brag facebook status updates.

I can't help but feel slightly cantankerous. And a little sad for my fellow colleagues who have trained for years to hone their skills under professors who have screamed while tearing up their written work, strict editors with bad tempers, and newsmakers who either, bug you non-stop to make sure you have a really nice photo of them published, or say you have mis-quoted them when the article goes to print. Despite the fact that you fact-checked and even re-checked what they've said with them, personally, a few times, paranoid by the threat of law suits.

While these bloggers write glowing reviews of the hotel/fashion brand/computer/alcohol/ lingerie/watch etc, champagne flute in hand - there is a frazzled looking journalist, notebook and pen in hand. Scribbling notes furiously. Being thrown out of fashion shows. Blacklisted by those one writes less than stellar reviews for. And ignored by the very same PR companies who once treated you like a media darling, but the moment you switch your beat, your role, or your quit your job, suddenly render you as useless deadweight. No longer invite you to parties. Don't make eye contact with you when you go with a friend as a plus one. And if you thought any of your conversations prior were genuine - well, think again because they seldom will spare more than a hello for you now. Because excuse me, another blogger just stepped into the function. And we so need her to write good stuff about our brand.

-_-"


Now if these bloggers keep it real all the way. Keep to the same style. Stay who they are. And are rewarded... I have absolutely no qualms with that.

But it is those who act self-entitled. Arrogrant.

The ones who barge in demanding free treatments because of "who they are". Some who write posts that uncover them as "writers" who possess language skills of a gnat. Then.... WHY THE HELL ARE THEY BEING PAID TO BE BULLIES?

Have we, thanks to wanting this "freedom of speech" online - inevitably created a culture of people who all think they are stars and deserve to be rewarded for it?

Because I seem to know at least 8 people in the last two weeks who have told me that they have their own youtube channels.

Social media. Is now the new reality tv in a world where everyone wants to become a celebrity.

And all I can say is peeps...

Like a wise man once said, that now has become a famous tagline in a comic...



Just like these bloggers or social media starlets, shouldn't abuse their newfound fame like six-year-olds wielding swords, staggering under its weight and becoming the playground bully....

We have responsibilities too.

With who we read. Who we support. Who we lend credibility with our eyeballs. Or click "follow" or "like". Because at the end of the day - we are the ones who are the enablers of someone who might become famous because of potty mouthed postings if we keep reading.

We are the ones, who are handing the big, sharp sword, to the six year old who walks with a cocky swagger who we really can't stand. And handing the six-year-old his or her paycheque too.


I believe, first and foremost. That we are what we read.

So don't support trash. If you see someone who writes something stupid. Or if this person says so and so wrote a stupid post that might offend your sensibilities.

Do the right thing.


And just click away.








p.s. If there are any of you who do want recommendations for sites I really do read. And rate. Or social media influencers or bloggers who I think do deserve to get paid for what they do. Hit me up. And I'll give you my opinion.

For free.





** all my posts are written on the fly. Non-sequiter. And have not been approved of by my editor, who would probably vomit blood at the sheer length of this post. So it will have grammatical errors. It might have spelling and punctuation mistakes. So sue me. I'm not getting paid for this.