WHY ARE IPHONE PHOTOS SO SHIT??????
Le week-end de la Fête du Travail a été une période de détente et de repos bien méritée. Le dimanche, nous n'avons rien fait de particulier - le linge n'a pas été lavé, la vaisselle s'est accumulée dans l'évier, les vêtements traînaient partout.
Je me suis levé tard, vers 10 heures, car c'était l'occasion de prendre un peu de temps pour moi. Après tout, vous travaillez tellement qu'il est difficile de vous convaincre que de temps en temps, il est tout à fait normal de ne rien faire.
Passer du temps sans rien faire peut sembler presque coupable, mais c'est en fait essentiel pour se ressourcer et se détendre, afin de revenir au travail avec une énergie renouvelée (AI wrote this).
The mornings are still cold. I’ve been wanting to get back to yoga, but trudging up the stairs for decaf at 5:30 am, I feel like I’m 65, my knees stiff, my hips locked.
In spring, the sunshine is at an almost level slant through the sliding deck doors. We’ve stripped off the worn UV plastic panels off them and within 5 minutes, you can feel the warmth seeping into your body. This is Lily’s favourite spot- she’s already soaking up the sunlight and for once, she’s silent. I join her, sitting at the edge of the wooden bench. One by one, I strip off my clothes- half the sliding door is covered by a thermal curtain so the neighbours don’t see anything.
I used to hate the sun, avoided it like a true Asian person (I draw the line though at using an umbrella as a shield). But now, I’ve mentally left the dark and over-cast universe that I’ve inhabited for the better part of my adult life.
And now I’m out in the light, in the sunshine.
My alarm goes off- 10 min to 8am; time to get to work.
We’ve been going to the markets for years and we’ve seen how it’s become a barometer of changing tastes and food trends. New Zealand is a bit behind I must admit, but who cares? I’ve calmed down now and realised that food is just food.
We’ve seen the current It food come and go. When it came out, there were always queues for churros and now, we look with sympathy at the Indian dude stuck with a franchise with practically no buyers (I looked furtively and his deep-fryers hadn’t even been used and it was already 7pm). From a business perspective, this kind of customer desertion can be brutal.
Asians on the other hand have always been more adept at pivoting to another product. We remember the dumpling wave (wasn’t really obsessed with it) when every other stand was hawking them at ridiculously cheap prices. And now, there was only one or two selling them. On their commercial gill plates, there were various meats for the now-popular food combos that promised more food for your buck.
Islander food- pork roasted on a spit, hefty cubes of taro, rice sticky with coconut cream - has also seen a resurgence for the heartier eater.
The same thing for desserts- the still trendy Korean waffles with sweet bean paste, American-styled cheesecakes, pecan tarts, baked Alaska and cookies as big as your face featuring the now ubiquitous Biscoff biscuit.
A couple of years ago, I would spend $40 which seemed a lot (I liked variety). Now, you’ll easily go past that if you weren’t careful now that most of the vendors have EFTPOS machines.
Tested and Approved:
Trendy Tanghulu; various fruits encased in sugar similar to candy-apples. Surprisingly refreshing with just enough sugar to complement the fruit’s sour notes. Careful in eating them though- the sugar crystals can be sharp enough to nick the inside of your mouth.
Korean puff pastries; the woman selling them filled the pastries with cream and torched the sugared top ala Creme Brulee.
Still a NO
Filipino food includes the usual suspects like dinuguan, pork laing, adobo, etc. The problem is that I can cook these better in my own house. The only thing I like is pork barbecue, and no one else does it better than Pinoys. The trick? You need to put some fat in your BBQ.
The Viral Dubai chocolate; they were selling portions of it and even if I’ve never really been a chocolate fan, I just needed to taste what the fuss was all about. And this is what it’s like- imagine eating a ton of pistachios and barfing it out, before using it as a chocolate filling. Gross.
Fine. Hold onto kindness as strongly as you can because sometimes (grudgingly), it’s the right thing to do.
What does blue cheese smell like? I said, like an unwashed, uncircumcised penis which my friends took offense to, because 1) they’re not cut and 2) I didn’t know shit because I was.
I said to someone today; work is actually easy. Life outside of work is harder.
Have yet to do something creative on my desk space. Sigh.
This is why I hate balconies, cliffs, and even small decks.
I was asked, if I had the chance to live in real life, any three recent shows, what would they be? I replied: be the conflicted daddy in Euphoria; an aristocratic, Eton-educated, psychopath banker in Industry and a butler in Downton Abbey.
Word of the week: CHOICES
I fucking actually hate E.
I mistakenly thought they were just pleats. They’re called pintucks - a fold or pleat in fabric that is sewn or fastened in place and when the tucks are very narrow, they are called pintucks or Pin-tucking.
Growing up, I remember my dad’s pants had these very sharp creases in the front, but they were just that, creases. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but being short, I think that pintucks on your pants create that illusion of length. I feel somewhat taller, tailored and sleek.
Funny thing for a child to notice, but Chini-Rae pointed them out once (a different pair, but the same label) and said, ‘Those must be special, expensive pants’.
I don’t think they are at $140, but I think they’re special because no one else does them. They’re from a New Zealand label called I Love Ugly, a brand that I’ve been buying for years even if uhm, I’m not exactly their demographic.
My first pintucked pants from them was called the Ralph pants which they don’t make any more. Their new pintucked variant is called the Pintuck Slim Kobe Pant in navy and black.
I got the navy and black and I’m hoping they do a ‘tall variant which isn’t cropped and falls perfectly just around my ankles, no need for hemming.
But yeah, I feel very dressy today.
Like going back to a Windows machine.
I’m still Mac-based, but it’s adding a Windows machine into my ‘workflow’. But if I’m being honest, I’m just pissed that the new iteration of the iPhone is crap and I had been just craving, craving, craving for something new.
So I did a few rejigs at work and voila, I got the new Microsoft Surface Pro 11 tablet which is perfect timing because 1) it’s the best iteration of it yet and 2) my back is hurting from lugging around the heavy 2023 Macbook Pro (like seriously). Half the time, remote work is focused on non-design stuff and the Mac is a pain to carry, not to mention my anxiety about damaging something so terribly expensive.
I actually don’t mind Windows. It’s fussy for sure, but its reminders are clear and straightforward; all you need to do is follow them and you’ll be fine.
So we had a sudden craving for chilli con carne for Sunday dinner and Farro Foods had a pre-made one that we had tried before and it was really good. So off we went to the branch in Mt. Wellington with the awful parking to pick one up and a couple of small things.
Entering the store triggered in me that irrationally exhilarating feeling I had when I had my first credit card with a limit in the mid-five digits- I just wanted to buy everything in sight that caught my fancy.
It’s the supermarket of my dreams; heirloom tomatoes that looked like they were made by a 3D printer gone haywire, new season asparagus as thick as sausages, niche vegetables like celeriac and witloof, at least seven kinds of micro-greens, store-made focaccia bigger than dinner plates, specialist cheeses, inidividual organic acai and fruit breakfast bowls and seasoning and oils from Europe and South America.
It was everything I didn’t really need but wanted to get.
We got the chilli and some good nacho chips to go with it, but when our basket started to fill up with, ‘oh look at this small treat’ stuff like pickle dip, bags of broccolini, Israeli couscous, and Appleby’s Strawberry and Cream ice-cream, we had to forcibly march ourselves to the check-out counter.
Someday…
I figured that in life, there’s a lot we can’t obviously change - our DNA, height, penis size etc- but the things we can do change, actually far outnumber the things we can’t.
So change it up!
There’s something satisfying about having the means and the willpower to effect changes no matter how small or shallow. Some didn’t work (doing a uniform for work in a bid to put a cap on expensive clothes-buying); some are a work in progress (cleaning the kitchen every night before going to bed); and some have been a spectacular success (reminding myself that at the end of the day, only my own choices and actions impact me directly- something that is happening a thousand miles away does not).
I’ve been working from home for years before the pandemic happened and was something I negotiated for at work. But I only set up an actual work space upstairs in our house when the lockdowns happened and while I love it, I always felt that the trestle table was too small. And the surface was black- I would see dust on it every day which annoyed me no end.
The universe was probably reading my mind because one day while going through our cat’s social-media feeds, I got thrown a random post from a local Ikea reseller and the desk was nearly perfect. I would have wished it to be a tad longer on both ends, but after two weeks of using it, the length was just right. It also came with drawers to organise an ever-growing collection of electronics.
Mayo is not a condiment, but it's pretty much what I use for nearly everything. But these two are the OG.
I've never minded sharing space, but finally it happened. I'm in my own office, by myself...
Apparently, a very, very long time
My skin-care stuff arrived today and I was a bit taken aback by how small the bottles were considering how much they cost.
I remember what my mother used to tell us when she would catch us fussing over our faces when we were younger: (translated)’ you better make sure you could afford those things you put on your face when you’re old’.
And it actually makes financial sense. A pensioner in New Zealand I think gets $200 a week. I spent just over $200 for a cleanser, moisturiser and a masque. And these are in addition to stuff I still have on my bathroom counter like niacinamide solution, three facial oils, a retinol serum, two morning creams and two kinds of SPF. The whole lot normally lasts 3-4months and I tend to get other stuff which is a combination of specialist and drug-store brands.
Ironically, it was my parents who set me off on this routine. They pointed out the pimples on my face once and wondered out loud if it was acne which was strange when both of them didn’t have it when they were younger.
I became determined to get rid of it because I knew it was something about myself that I could change. And I’m glad that I did because I actually look good. It could be better- skin treatments in NZ cost a small fortune- but it’s all about consistency. If you started early, you have a good chance of enjoying the effects of that early start.
Who knows, if I’m really lucky, I’d still look 40 at 65 and get away with just using cheap Nivea or something.
I boast about the fact that I get ready for the upcoming week on Sundays; lunch for Monday sorted, extra-nice outfit, all emails done, head-start on creative assignments. We do early dinner as well so that we get two hours before getting into bed (10pm) to spend on wellness stuff like yoga (should really get back into it), a nice facial mask and ab crunches (hate it).
But when I work from home on a Monday, it’s like my body knows and sabotages me with habits that I thought I had gotten rid of. I fail to wake up early. I hit snooze all the way to 7:30 (I start work at 8am).
And to cap it off, I end up making a sad piece of burnt toast.
The other week, I was acting like a crazy person and complaining about ‘chaos’, ‘entropy’ and ‘flux’. But it wasn’t anything intellectual.
I was simply tired of the fact that I was doing chores constantly; that there was no end to it; that no matter how organised you are or that you’re a couple of steps ahead, things always catch up with you and you’re buried again in disorder. And you’re tired, you’d rather do something else instead. Can you ignore it for a while? How long though? Is this even a good approach?
But within 48 hours, I was over it. Life moved on whether you liked it or not.
I got a good night’s sleep, cleared my head, bought new outfits for a work-related show and put on a niacinamide face mask (my complexion was starting to look muddy).
I had work to do, bills to pay, belly fats to battle, house renovations to complete.
I can’t afford to not be my best.
I hate spring
I love waking up in the dark.
The darkness is telling me
that it’s okay. Everything will be alright.
What you can’t see, can’t be true, correct?
I don’t need to see the light.
I don’t need to be reassured,
that it’s what I need,
to make my way through.
To where exactly?
I have found my way
and it’s my way.
When I close my eyes,
it’s as close to home
as I’ll ever be.
I’ve made this once before and I wasn’t exactly thrilled. I thought it was dull and stodgy.
But the 2nd time’s the charm and I think it’s the recipe (a different one) and it’s also because I’ve used a stand-mixer for this one- you do a lot of mixing which a hand-whisk wouldn't be able to do as well.
The recipe called for a lot of creamy things and this is what you get in the end, a truly rich, ultra-creamy cake that straddles the fine line between a too-sweet and a too cheesy (savoury) concoction.
And to pair it with something that has alcohol makes it a little bit more adult, more refined.
After getting a mortgage, the next horrifying challenge you have to face would be fixing up the house you bought.
I know nothing of fixing things, let alone constructing or reconstructing stuff from scratch. If abilities and inclinations are somehow genetically passed on, then I’m truly my father’s son. Dad couldn’t be bothered not because he had better things to do, but because he was good at other things.
I try to reassure myself with that thought, that I am better with other things, but goddamn it- I wish I was good at this. The costs make me cry.
We’re having two bathrooms done, a toilet and the laundry area.
