Pictures that make me happy;

I’ve been rather down, actually. For many reasons, but perhaps mostly the raging loneliness. It is difficult to explain how one can be lonely when constantly surrounded by people? But the need to have one’s heart constantly piercing beyond the surface of the stream means that the artificiality of living a practical life is akin to stepping on needles, living through the seconds. I think about taxis in Great Gatsby, and how I will never, never be as happy again. I know its my birthday month and I am supposed to be all neon pinks and chocolate, but I end up doing inexplicable things, hiding in owl mail.

But little things that echo like streaks of light.

A cat that looks like Tempura, plus she smiles.

So this is what it looks like if Tempura was ever to smile, symetrically.

I think after my cat crossed over to my household, she became Rip Van Winkle and never awoke again. Even when she is awake she is relatively sleepy. Last night she was in my embrace purring for food, and whilst purring for fish she fell asleep. She is foolish like that.

I think she hates the way I am a Mover. I turn and twist and delve, uplift blankets and cuddle under, turn the air conditioning on and off and on and…

In short I am the worst bed partner you can ever find. Mid-night, she gives a grunt and heads for the office chair instead. And stares at me until I fall asleep.

Sometimes I think, if even a cat can’t live with me, what more a person!

I sometimes wonder how couples sleep next to each other.

Do they move? Do they hug? Do they hold hands?

Maybe they do a Tempura-and-I routine and in the end the husband rolls up and sleeps on the office chair. It is compatible with house harmony.

Feeding ducks. I love ducks. Especially those in Hyde Park which are warm and friendly and will even waddle up to you. Pieces of soft bread between your fingers which you can spring upon them in all directions so you can keep them excited.

The cold wish whooshing behind you as you hold your coat tightly and look wistfully at the ducks.

I don’t even think of things like how they must be very happy. I think.

I like this ducks necklace so much I think I’ll go and buy it tomorrow, I think its the cutest!! The picture belongs to Crystal, and I think she has the most special, quaint things.

During New Year’s, I would visit my uncle and he had this large pond outside his bungalow. Sometimes, the mother duck would get lost and lead her little ducklings, wet and trembling into the house in the midst of New Year fanfare!

I know Irving thinks of ducks for another reason. He likes them all blown away, which is quite very sadistic. Though I have to admit the video was the cutest.

When I am sad, Irving volunteers to actually sing with me. I hope he will even sing for me a cantonese song. Those that William does in an emo kind of way. I cannot imagine Irving singing cantonese songs in an emo kind of way, so it is always kind of interesting imagining the kind of life experiences Irving will go through to become the kind of person who will sing emo cantonese songs in KTV instead.

(from sexliespixiedust)

We have a Court of Appeal case going on today and I’m quite excited to see Cavinder Bull in court again! I think he’s brilliant and I really enjoy watching the way he frames arguments and questions and puts forth his case. He has excellent rapport with the judges and I am confident that he will put forth a good case today.

I often wish I went into Litigation instead. Or became a sort of barrister. Is that every lawyer’s secret dream, set in the solemn bearings of a courtroom? That words will slowly find their way inside you and the easiest rhetoric will be at your fingertips?

I live part of my dreams watching others. Like Cavinder Bull. Or those other advocates videos I used to watch, over and over again.

Right now, I am tired and afraid to dream instead. Writing many letters. Writing even more letters. Looking to my investigation reports. Thinking of the fundamentals even of how to qualify properly.

Thinking big dreams is difficult when there is the everyday. Connecting with the everyday is a blur of dots.

There is the dream and you, and meanwhile you are trying to fit everything into the canvas, like the colours in a Peranakan batik sarung. The colours come to define your life. You forget what you are aspiring to.

The end goal, is to have colours that retain their luster, turning and twisting, gleaming in the sun. That is the trait of a good woman, a good wife.

We did not stop sewing, it is just that the basic materials evolved.

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