Chocolates of New Zealand

A relative of mine dropped off a plastic bag containing this, plus four booklets, at the gate of Mr. Radioman's house one particular afternoon.

I hadn't known. 

I mean, I had seen the bag, but because the one inside the house wasn't interested in the contents, plus it wouldn't do me good to take it inside, so there the bag hung for over a week before winds blew it down to the ground and to the side. 

Strange as it sounds, that was a blessing. 

I wouldn't have been able to see the 'something.com.au' printed on the outside of the bag otherwise. 

Somehow I managed to sneak the bag off the first instance I was able to, and opened it up at the void deck table after I got downstairs.

It was a pleasant surprise.

Better yet, it was a complete delight1

I was so, so happy, I tell you. 

See, there's nothing better than to receive a box of very sweet milk chocolates- with all kinds of varieties- to boost one's spirits after an afternoon of (unnecessary) household chores and (unnecessary) conversation that you don't want to do and don't want to have. 

So through the candy chocolate bars I ruffled, trying to decide between the Twirl (which I hadn't eaten for a long time), the Boost (which I probably had had once but forgotten the taste), the Turkish (which I hadn't had before), the Caramilk, the regular milk chocolate, the Picnic and the Crumble. 

Not an easy decision to make.

I wanted the Twirl, but I also wanted the Caramilk, the Crumble and the regular milk chocolate. 

In the end I placed everything back into the bag save for one- the milk chocolate- and finished it. 

Was it melted? 

Yes. 

Was it good?

Absolutely. 

In fact I thought it a miracle that it hadn't gone bad. 

Guess hot sun, heat, even humidity all of it ain't defeating Cadbury! 

Steppyhouse 2024

I took these pictures late last year.

Not so much for documentation but because we do shift things around from time to time, it's always pleasant to see where we're at and what's been added or what's been taken away. 

It was my thought that we would have less stuff as time went by. 

Somehow it feels like we've accumulated a wee bit more. 

It's a good thing that those stuff we've accumulated aren't redundant or useless but have a meaning and a purpose, no matter how insignificant and small they might appear to be. 

I don't know when exactly it was that we started placing towels and clothes on this bench on the upper landing of the staircase. 

Maybe it was when we began laundering the towels and so took out new ones and found that we had no place to keep the collection of both the old and new. 

And maybe it was when we were sorting out the clothes that we decided to separate the whites and blacks from the colors and so ended up dumping them on the very same bench upstairs. 

The cushions have since been moved to the balcony downstairs however where they sit on top of a shelf that houses some random things we don't particularly need. 

The builder's yard still looks the same, albeit with more bird droppings and weeds growing at the oddest parts of the place. 

It's funny, months ago there had been a tiny bit of weed growing out from this place between the tiles. 

Later the weed died, and I had thought that was it. 

But in recent days (of writing this post) I've discovered a few interesting weeds growing close to the drainpipe hole (goodness knows how the mud and all got there) and there's another one growing by the shelves right at the back, complete with leaves and all. 

It is the weed growing at the shelves that's taken me by surprise. 

Mind, that area's a sheltered space of an odd corner, blocked somewhat from light, from rain and from the general elements of nature that are meant to help plants grow. 

Yet it grows. 

I don't know what to think. 

So I just leave it there. 

Other areas of the house have more or less remained the same. 

The bikes we brought into the house because of a circular by the building management, the drying towel we've since changed to a thinner one, these two little stuffies are still by the window, and maybe the largest change has been to the toilet. 

There's nothing I can do about the box- it has to be elevated, thanks no thanks to a pipe situation that happened earlier this year- but I guess I can sort out some of the boxes and pile them up so that there'll be more space rather than what it looks like now. 

Perhaps I am of the mind that things need to be decluttered. 

Then again, resources are things we always need, and we never know just when we might need a box or two or otherwise. 

So, yeah, let's just wait and see. 

Steppyhouse In The Light

It was a particularly warm summer when we moved into Steppyhouse and began settling down. 

And because I wasn't able to have as many pictures as I wanted, I was determined that I'd take new ones whenever I could after things were more or less in their place and when I had the energy and the time. 

Let's just say that I got energized one bright sunny weekday morning, and so out came the phone, and here we are.

Beautiful, aren't they?

Okay, so the house doesn't exactly look like this now- certain shifts have been made- I moved a couple of things around and there're several cartons of POLAR mineral waters under the shelf where our plates and bowls are- but the place more or less looks the same. 

Our patio- with a bit more bird poop on the floor- still looks like a builder's yard. Nothing's changed.

Our balcony still has got the Decathlon camping chairs but what with the rain these several weeks I've shifted them further to the back corner where chances of them getting drenched are much lesser. Even the cat cushions have been shifted to the shelf behind so that they don't get soaked so much and I can still hug them when I'm on the balcony in the mornings and late evenings. 

My desk too more or less looks the same.

The black shelf is still there, the bell on the shelf is still there, the light and the stationery box is where it still is, and I've not shifted the position of any of those books either. Perhaps it's a little messier than what it used to be couple of months ago, but it's not hard to move things back to where they belong, and I'm very sure I'll have my desk looking the same way as it is right now in no time.

I love Steppyhouse.

I love how restful she is. 

And I'm so thankful for her. 

Doesn't matter if she's beginning to look more and more lived in. 

That's what a house is for. 

Because, now, for the first time in a long while I've got chilly northern winds blowing through the open windows and the open balcony door. 

There are days where the winds come in from the east (where the balcony faces). There are days where the winds come in from the northwest. There are days where the winds come in from both.

I open the windows.

I open the door. 

Sure, the curtains flap right up in my face and random receipts get blown off the table scattering all over the floor. 

But I don't care.

It's lovely to have a place to call home, filled with the scents that I appreciate and the things that I love. 

And I hope to have them as long as I wish to, with peace, reassurance and restfulness day by day by day. 

From Hard (Lens) to Soft

So it might seem like I tend to be indecisive most of the time, but really, there are a couple of things in life that, once I look off, look away and move on, I don't turn around, I don't look back, and I don't smile.

That doesn't mean I deny their existence.

How I see it is that they're just there, they've been there, and that's it.

No more, no less. 

It doesn't matter if they've been in my life for a good long while. 

It doesn't matter if I have been familiar with them and 'that's how it's always been'.

I now no longer care. 

Because they are, after all, no more suitable for me, no more a boon to my current nor future state and, in any case, no one- in the name of memories, sentimentality, or honor- should hang on to what has ceased to be a blessing, but has instead become a curse, and a source of hurt to them instead. 

If it sounds like I'm referring to a person, no, I'm not. 

I'm referring to these.

Which, after three decades of RGP hard lenses, I switched to, and I won't ever be looking back.

Why should I?

Why should I go back to what no longer works for me when today technology has evolved, perspectives towards eye care have moved on, and I have much faster, easier, more comfortable options for lenses rather than the hard, surface-scratched ones that I'd been using for more than 10 years? 

It's not just the lens.

It's that the shape of my eyelids seems to have changed over the last few years, and maybe them lids (and my eyes) are no more the same as they were when I first made these RGP lenses oh so long ago. 

I'm telling you, I won't soon forget just how painful and traumatizing it was for me in August when, all of a sudden, my right lens began giving me serious, SERIOUS trouble. 

Okay, it had been on a bit of an annoyance a couple of months before, but never had it reached a stage where my eye started to heavily hurt and tear the moment I slid the lens in. 

Such disruption to my already disrupted life, I tell you. 

Not only was it busy season- we had an MV to shoot and we were shifting place- each morning saw me waste thirty minutes trying to settle the discomfort in my right eye with a process that included excessive tearing, eye drops, taking out the lens, putting it back in, taking it out again, putting it back in again.

The discomfort got worse as the day wore on, and initially I thought I might have had some sort of conjunctivitis, so I went to see an ophthalmologist, but despite the prescribed eye drops and the steroids the blasted pain didn't go away.

It worsened. 

My eyes became sensitive to all kinds of light. 

I could not see the menu of any restaurant I went to. 

I could not see the food I was eating. 

Errands in the supermarket became a chore because I kept bumping into things and I couldnt' see the tiny print of the expiry date. 

Not just that, I had to wear sunglasses indoors (and my pair at that time had a bit of a blurred lens) and I couldn't transit from indoors to outdoors without my eyes tearing like mad. 

When I needed to sign documents I couldn't even see where exactly to sign. 

It was very, very frustrating, very disturbing, very dangerous.

Crossing the road was dangerous when I couldn't see the green man (the sunshine hurt my eyes when I looked up).

Trying not to show weakness in front of a person I term a bug was dangerous. 

And so desperate became I that I got fed up and went about my day with the (right) lens absent altogether and survived the day to day functions with much clearer vision in the left eye. 

Yes, it's unconventional.

But I didn't get a headache, and at least I didn't have to uncontrollably cry.  

With all that which has happened, I'm thankful, and grateful for these dailies that I managed to get hold from Bausch & Lomb- I forget the category- I think it's ULTRA- and I've been wearing them ever since. 

There is now no more worry that my lens will suddenly pop out of my eye when I look extreme left or right.

There is now no more squinting at fine print on paper because the power of these magical, thin dailies are suited for my present level of vision.

I can look up at lawyers and other people with sharp, expressive looks and clear, undisturbed vision.

And even though there're adjustments I have to make, like watching out for raindrops, like not being able to shower with my face up in the falling water, and like watching how I remove my lens- gawd, I'm sticking my finger into my eyeball- I can now fully relish and take pictures of everything and anything that I so desire, with clear, concise vision, and Chonkycam's mix of feels, visuals and eyes. 

A Gift of Lilies

I'm trying to write about these lilies.

Lilies that I received a couple of months ago as a house gift and whose fragrance filled the apartment for a couple of weeks at least as every two days I changed the water and refilled the vase with cold, refrigerated water. 

Yet, for some complicated reason, despite the fact that they are so fresh and so beautiful, despite the fact that their petals are firm and strong and full of garden bloom freshness, I don't know where to start. 

It's ridiculous, because, seriously, how difficult can it be to write about a bouquet of white stargazer lilies? 

How difficult can it be to write about a flower that's been my favorite since I was first gifted a bouquet more than ten years ago? 

Yet for this article alone I've erased paragraphs three, no, four times, and I don't know how else I should continue. 

Perhaps I should just plonk the pictures here and let them speak for themselves. 

And yet, I can't.

I can't just place a picture of blooms as beautiful as these and then not say anything about them.

I also cannot just place a picture of flowers as pure and strong and white as these and not say anything about them either. 

Because to me that's what stargazer lilies are. 

They're the kind of flower that hold quiet dominance in any space that they're in.

Whether they be a single bloom at the reception counter of a Downtown office tower, whether they be the centerpiece of a room, or placed at a corner, or on a table at a staircase landing, stargazer lilies are a flower that you will notice (sooner or later). 

They are a flower you cannot ignore. 

I discovered this the first time I was gifted a bouquet over more than a decade ago

At first, not knowing what to do with it, I placed it on the floor between the work desk and the cabinet with the air conditioning blowing above. 

Later I began to realize that these flowers needed a lot of water, so a lot of cold water I started giving them, and not long after there came their fragrance, their unmistakable, distinctive scent. 

Never had I experienced a flower scent like what these blooms revealed. 

Complete immersion, at once.

Immediate love.  

Perhaps it was this very attribute- their distinctive, unmistakable scent- be what that made me fall in love with them.

But then again there was more than that.

I loved the fact that the stargazer lily wasn't classified as a super feminine, super girly kind of flower.

I also loved the fact that she was what I hoped to be- sympathetic (white), and feminine (white, pink and yellow), both of which were very remarkable traits, yet at the same time exuded a strength and a graceful presence like no other flower I knew. 

I loved her petals strong, firm and white. 

I loved the way her buds opened up to the surrounding air, letting you know of her presence without needing to let you know she was there.

And most of all, I loved her strength. 

Stargazer lilies are surprisingly resilient. 

Not only do they look the part, they also seem to be able to last everywhere and anywhere.

Maybe probably last longer in temperate temperatures- like those of air-conditioned rooms, and in Los Angeles and San Francisco- but as I found out earlier this year, they actually can last remarkably long in warm temperatures too. 

SteppyHouse December

The house now looks more lived in than how it did when we first moved in couple of months ago.

Back then we hadn't quite settled in to a regular way of life, and because of that, things weren't arranged to suit life the way we live it now.

The house isn't showroom spacious.

Neither does every space fit the purpose for what she is meant to be. 

But we've kept it neat, there's a structure, and everything has its own place, no matter how odd it might seem. 

Two anchors in the house that we have are these. 

We don't look at them often enough, I think, but comforting a sight it is to see them (plastic) lavenders, hard cover books, memento stuffie toys, and American-bought Hulk at the staircase turns. 

They're a sort of focus, I think.

Especially Hulk, who helps in the focus whenever my legs ache from climbing up the stairs. 

There're some things which technically don't belong where they are, like this box of odds and ends on the MUJI bench along the narrow hallway covered by a plastic curtain once meant to separate the patio from the hallway but which we never got around to it and which we now don't care. 

Out of all the spaces that we've filled in the house, our kitchen is probably the most packed one. 

It's not a bad thing, mind. 

Whether it be the containers of powders or jars of seasonings, whether it be the cups or the flasks or the plates or the cooking paraphernalia, every corner of this space, over and under the portable black shelf atop the stove, has been fully used.

 I have a couple of glasses and glass cups under one side of the shelf. 

I have on the other side- next to the unused stove- a measuring jug, and a couple of plastic containers holding pink Himalayan salt and some cajun seasoning. 

Not just this space.

The space under the shelf where we hold a myriad of plates and bowls and flasks and cutlery too has been filled. 

There's hardly any space else to place the cartons of mineral water that now thankfully we order online and have them delivered to our door. 

This is a place where sometimes stuff get shifted around.

But this is also a place where most of the time they don't. 

One thing I love about Steppyhouse and how we've made it is that we don't usually need to wonder where our things are. 

They're more or less at places where we hang out at, where it's easy to reach for, and you don't have to delve too deep into the cupboard or toss aside boxes to get to the things you want. 

It's great that there're other anchors in this house besides the staircase decor, the work desks and the fridge. 

I'm talking about these two. 

Patient they are always waiting for me to come back through the front door. 

Patient they are in my arms each night and each morning when I wake. 

It's lovely to have them beside me right now even as I type. 

Same way it's lovely too that I get to look out the balcony door to where the black drape of a sun drape is right in front of me. 

The bike's gone, however- we moved it out to the main area beside the lift so we wouldn't need to continually shift it in and out. 

Not that the balcony's empty- I wish there were less stuff- but we have had to shift a couple of boxes out, move the vase from its corner to the center of the balcony thanks to huge gusts of winds that nearly toppled the vase over somewhere in early February.

I'm glad for the Christmas we have had here at Steppyhouse. 

It didn't matter to me that there was no tree. 

Neither did it matter to me that there were no twinkling lights along the side of the staircase or anything for that matter. 

We had our own little Christmas corner.

We had our own little space (on top of the fridge!) with two little knitted boots, plastic poinsettia flowers stuffed into the boots, and warm, cozy decor in the form of silvery fir cones that I dropped in the box together with them furry warm boots. 

A Handphone Story

So I found these two babies whilst clearing out some stuff in my bags couple of weeks back, and boy, was I surprised.

Maybe because I wasn't expecting to find them amongst a pile of books and clothes that I hadn't looked at in a long while. but there they were, both of them in one of those pouch bags bought from Daiso, together with another third phone which I had particularly liked when it was first introduced to me, and which I was a little sad for when it had to be decommissioned to make way for a new phone.

Seeing these two brought me a sense of nostalgia that I didn't know I had. 

Not so much the use of the phones themselves, but the places where them two had been.

I remember the excitement when I first got the Nokia- it ran on the 3G network, making auto-roam so much easier. It didn't matter where I was calling from- I could now call a landline from nearly anywhere in the world without having to worry whether the network could sustain it or otherwise. 

Happier yet, Japan had jumped onto the 3G network not too long before, and now I didn't have to switch to Docomo or another network when making a call home whilst transiting at Narita International Airport.

This phone was the one that went with me to Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego and New York City.

I'm not sure if it went with me anywhere else. 

Maybe Bangkok, in 2011. 

Or maybe it was the LG Lollipop phone that went.

Things get kind of blur between 2009 and 2011.

But I know the Lollipop was with me in 2012, as was the Blackberry, which went with me in April of that year to Taiwan.

I actually liked the Blackberry. 

Not for the stiff business-like formality that its image presented, but the fact that it had a physical keyboard, and buttons whose touch I fancied. It had (surprisingly) rather adorable looking fonts too. 

How long I used the Blackberry I too cannot remember- it might have been about a year, a year over, maybe. 

But I know I used the gear until the buttons fell off. 

By then, however, I was more than ready to change the phone- primarily because it wasn't compatible with Facebook anymore, and in any case, the BB was really more of a handheld computer/word-based piece of equipment, excellent for messages and emails but terrible for social media, visuals, camera functions and everything else. 

So off it went. 

And a (second hand) Samsung Galaxy III came in. 

Story of a BATA Bag

Couple of weeks ago whilst in the midst of packing my stuff, I decided that this bag, like the other one, too had to go. 

At first I wasn't sure.

It still was in quite a good condition, it still could be used, and more importantly, this bag, actually, wasn't mine.

No doubt I had been using it for almost 6 years, even hanging a little lion stuffie on it, but in fact it was on a borrowed status, and this bag originally belonged to a lady who bought it 9 years ago during a very trying season when she was rehabilitating from a stroke and going through physiotherapy to recover the use of her affected left leg and arm. 

In a season like that one tends to buy a lot of things. 

So at the BATA store in Peninsula Plaza one day she picked out this bag from the shelf, fished inside her old bag for a 50 dollar note, and paid for it. 

How long she carried this blue handbag for, I cannot remember now- probably a year give and take- but one day she decided that there wasn't any much of a point carrying this bag out anymore, so aside the bag went. 

There it sat unused for a season of time- probably about two years or so- until one day I was desperately looking around for a handbag to carry to a last minute professional meeting, and (with permission from her family) I borrowed it.

Time passed and the bag (sort of) became mine after a while. 

But a few years after I had to stop carrying it. 

Not because I felt like I shouldn't borrow it or use it but because the bag somehow seemed very heavy after my day to day belongings were placed in it, and despite my best efforts I found it hard to brush away the uncomfortable ache spreading over my shoulders.

Eventually other bags came into place and this one became left behind.

I haven't used this bag in probably over two years. 

It's just been sitting there. 

You know, one of the questions I asked myself before tossing this bag away into the bin was whether I would use this bag again in the future.

The answer was no. 

It wasn't the only question I asked. 

I asked myself too whether it was something the original owner still cherished. 

The answer too was, in all likelihood, no. 

Maybe she might recognize it, maybe she might not. 

I don't know. 

I'm not sure whether she still remembers it. 

And even if she does, I'm not sure whether she wants to be reminded of a time where she tried so hard to be strong, carrying all the things she thought she might need, every day, to CART at Tan Tock Seng Hospital, even though the design of the bag probably tired her out and made her commute more challenging than she assumed it would be. 

Backpack ~2000s

I threw this backpack away couple of weeks ago.

It was time. 

Time to let go of things, time to let go of mementoes, time to let go of stuff because their original owners had already let go of them. 

I took a good look at the backpack before tossing it into the bin.

It had, after all, gone with me to places that I previously had not gone before, and in all honesty, I don't hate it nor resent it.

But times have changed, my preferences have changed, and I no longer appreciate this backpack the way that I used to. 

That doesn't mean that I don't remember the circumstances that led to me buying this backpack, or that I don't remember at where I got this backpack from.

I remember it all very well. 

Is there a significance to this blue and black colored, padded strap backpack that I bought at a shop on the second floor of Larkin Bus Terminal? 

Yes.

Because she's a memento of a time when The Family and I were going up to Malaysia nearly every weekend. 

I'm not reminiscing romantically about those times. 

But they did happen. 

And because they did happen- Saturday mornings to Sunday nights four times a month- we've got this story of the backpack to which I never really gave it a name.

It's one thing to pack for a 7 day trip and get on a coach that will take you point-to-point directly to your destination.

It's another thing, however, to pack the same size of bag for a 2 day trip and take three buses before you finally get to the place you were planning to go. 

The journey would've been much easier had The Family decided to take direct coaches from the (now-enbloc) Golden Mile Complex at Beach Road. 

I could have then tossed my green gym bag overhead my seat, or even in the luggage section below. 

But they preferred to do it the organic way and so four times a month we boarded a bus to take us from our home to Queen Street Bus Terminal, where from there we took another bus- 170 or Causeway Link depending on which queue was shorter- and then after that from Larkin to whichever town we were going. 

Maybe I wouldn't have minded it so much had it not been for this chonk of a green gym bag resting like a heavyweight on my right shoulder. 

But as it was, that's what I carried when we first began traveling to and fro, and trust me, quite a chore it was to balance the bag with one arm up and down the steps of the bus more than five times. 

First time was when I got up SBS Transit's bus to get to Queen Street.

Second time was when I got down the SBS Transit at Queen Street. 

After that there was the boarding up 170 and/or Causeway Link to get to Woodlands Checkpoint. 

Then at Woodlands Checkpoint there was the disembarkation to enter the hall where my passport got stamped.

When that finished, I got back up the bus again to cross over to the Malaysian side. 

When we reached the Malaysian side the process repeated itself, down and up, before finally reaching the Larkin Bus Terminal. 

But that was only the first half of the journey. 

There was still the journey on the domestic coaches before we got to the town we were planning to go.

All in all, it made for a tiring journey, made none easier by the weight of the gym bag that I was lugging along.

What bothered me the most, however, weren't the bus steps, but the queues at Immigration on both sides, because the queue moved one step forward every time someone cleared their passport, and there was no way I could put my bag down on the floor unless I picked it up every time, or used my foot to kick it along. 

I wouldn't have minded doing the latter, honestly- it wouldn't have done the bag any harm- but The Parents were there and they weren't the sort to close an eye. 

So I found myself carrying my luggage the entire time both sides of the Causeway, and on weekends, trust me, the crowd was there. 

I don't know how many times I switched between my left and right shoulders whilst standing in the queue waiting to get my passport stamped. 

And then there were still the bus queues at both Queen Street and Larkin Bus Terminals, the bus queues at both Checkpoints, plus the walk from the town's bus station to our hotel.

It was very tiring, I tell you. 

And this was only one way! 

How many weeks I used this green gym bag on our weekend sojourns to Malaysia I no longer remember. 

But I remember paying RM40 for the backpack, and I remember the second floor shop where I bought it from.

Traveling upcountry to Malaysia got so much easier after that. 

No more did I have to content with my luggage clunking me uncomfortably on my hips whenever I walked. 

No more did I have to shift my luggage left to right and right to left whilst queuing at the counters. 

And no more did I have only one hand free to hold the seat rail in front of me whilst standing squashed between other passengers on the public bus back to Singapore. 

There was now no more dead air space inside my luggage bag to make my clothes roll untidily around. 

There was now no need to balance it with a hand on my shoulder whilst standing or walking. 

And I could finally feel more mobile, get up and down the bus easier, be more capable to dash up the bus if necessary, and even if there was no sitting room, there was lesser fear of falling because now I had both hands free. 

It's been more than twenty years since this backpack went upcountry to Malaysia, and now she'll never get to go again. 

But, as someone said not too long ago- she has once been- and for that, I guess, even whilst I refuse to reminisce, it is up to me now to revisit (reconquer) some of those towns that this backpack went to all those years ago, and see it again, with new eyes, and with a new (Decathlon) backpack this time. 

Laptop Decor

So, sometime earlier this year the Company held what we call a regular equipment upgrade/reshuffle, and I found myself the inheritor of my colleague's reformatted laptop. 

Not that it's a big deal- Company policy assigns gear on an as-needs basis according to the tasks required of the employee, and what with it not being hierarchy-driven, a junior employee might actually get a newer (faster) piece of gear (with better graphic cards) compared to, say, their senior colleagues from another department. 

I didn't mind that the gear was inherited.

It's Company policy, which I won't argue. 

But I did mind, however, the uniformity- as in, it wasn't me to leave it looking like it could belong to just about anybody in the Company- so I decided to customize it.

It turned out to be a bigger challenge than I thought. 

Because whilst the manner of things was to be 'as professional as possible', I was using this for both professional, and personal purposes, and given one who (strives) to integrate both (as much as possible) together in her life, I wasn't contented to leave my laptop looking boring aka professional. 

It needed shapes.

It needed color. 

And I wanted it to display a bit of my quirks and my personality as well

There was an idea of getting die-cut stickers from the booths in some of the shopping malls, but they turned out to be too pop-ish and too colorful for (upper management) me, plus therewas no time to rummage through the piles, so I threw that idea away, and eventually came to this.

Doesn't look too bad, does it?

It's not as fun as some of the millennial laptops are, but it doesn't look as severe as some of the work laptops are, either.

It takes quite a bit of balance, I assure you, to figure out what it is that suits the work you do, and what it is that suits the person that is you. 

That being said, first thing up, of course, was the SkinCalories label.

I knew I wanted that. 

Subsequently, everything else, including the border of the label itself, came after.

Originally I was going to put only the square shaped mood stickers (from Daiso) around the label, but then afterwards I decided that it needed a bit more shape, so out came the so calming but so hard to find chill-looking blue stickers that were a precise reflection of my mood at the start of this year.

We're in June right now. 

But it's still my mood. 

Will it continue to be my mood still? 

I don't know- maybe, maybe not- but after all this while, there is indeed a part of me that yearns for the serenity of space, the calmness of mind, and the solitude that mood images like these can bring. 

Putting contemplation aside, I actually love how it looks. 

Not just because SkinCalories means more than just a skincare company (and brand) to me, not just because I've made the colors of purple, lavender and lilac signature, but also because the images are mature enough that bring out a smile from the serenity-loving soul in me. 

The Arsenal of Scents

If you're wondering why it is that I've shared a picture of my beauty routine, well, it's not because I'm trying to be a make up influencer or beauty influencer or anything. 

Of course not. 

But now I finally understand why people sometimes call make up war paint, and why people sometimes say that they cannot function without their beauty and make up routines. 

I never used to think that applying lotion on my face and hands were that important.

That is, until I discovered the gap, and the emptiness that followed, when I couldn't bring myself to apply it one bright, sunny morning. 

Never ever laugh at someone who swears by their lotions, their mists and their spritzes. 

It might make the difference between them getting out of bed, or staying in it dull, listless and lifeless, the entire day. 

I didn't think I'd ever place so much value in these little bottles and tubes in my box at my beauty corner.

But now I do. 

Because a big deal it now means to me. 

And a bigger deal when I realize that, without them, I might not have gotten through day after day after day. 

You know how it is in life sometimes when a spritz of face mist in the morning isn't just a spritz of face mist. but an act that gets you to the next step of the day? 

That's what the bottle of SkinCalories's face mist did for me. 

I felt the cool on my face.

I breathed in the scent of "Lavender water infused with the essence of the Lavender flower".

Then I tied up my hair.

The scent of lavender didn't stay with me only in the mornings.

When the hour came and I had to go out, there was first Yardley's Lavender EDT, and then, together with lip balm, that tiny little sample-sized tube of SkinCalories' lavender-scented BB cream. 

Don't laugh at my choice of SkinCalories. 

I'm working in it.

Don't laugh at my choice of Yardley either. 

So, it is a little mumsy, but oy, it was the only Lavender EDT I knew- and the most affordable one for that season in time.  

I'll gladly tell you that I've sprayed it quite liberally. 

I'll also gladly tell you that the SkinCalories' BB Cream made for a light, calming lavender-infused make-up coverage that helped me get ready to face the world. 

The arsenal wasn't all lavender-essence, and lavender-infused, however.

There was cherry blossom, courtesy of Nivea.

And then there was goat milk-scented serum from Korean dermatological brand Dr. Hedison. 

I won't say that this is all that has gotten me through to where I am now. 

But it's been a very, very critical part. 

It's made me feel human. 

It's made me feel like life had a purpose that was entirely my own, and not someone else's.

And it gave me (back) my identity. 

See, it doesn't matter if you're not able to get up and 'do something'. 

It doesn't matter if you cannot bring yourself to apply face powder and foundation and eye shadow and lipstick. 

No, all you need is a lotion (to soften your dry, parched skin), a face mist (to cool it), a BB cream to make you look presentable (even though you don't feel it), and a lip balm (so you don't look too dead). 

If a scent makes you feel alive, don't care how cheap or expensive it is, use it.

And if that's still not enough, get out the coffee, get out the tea, play the music, write a journal, hug a stuffie.

You might need it.

So might we.