The Love Fest.

I spent hours making this wiggle instead of studying for financial accounting.

Clearly, I have my priorities right.

I’m excited, really, for all the stolen brinjals and all the bubble wrap it’ll take to pull this off. Because for once this entire thing feels like my baby - OUR baby - silly and childish and loved. Even if it means finding the “lift me!” stickers peeling and creased at the edges after one day. Because it means that people are pausing to look, touch and smell our babies. Just a short quiet sheepish pause is enough for a peek under cotton candy flaps and a furtive stroke of shredded brassieres and soap-filled condoms. All for curiosity. And if you are one of the strokers, smellers and onlookers, then I suppose our mission is accomplished.

It does make me happy to see the works on the walls. I grin like an idiot whenever I see someone stop dead in their tracks, just looking at them. Information saturation? CONQUERED! I forget how far I’ve come from black and white photocopied A4 posters to a 4-figure marketing budget. I don’t know much about this little industry. But I have a theory that in the years to come, advertisements will no longer be just a cheap attempt at selling sex, or wealth, or status with a product. It will be like a genuine nudge. A hug. A poke. A laugh.

Rebellious & Purling it.

An elephant nestled underneath my shoulder blades. It was big and blue with ACCOUNTING written in big and bold letters. My head was throbbing. I had to sit. That was when I met the coolest stranger ever. I squeezed past the girl to fill the window seat next to her. Her hair’s all slicked up in a smart little bob, clad in a little black vest and a white t-shirt underneath. Standard fare, really. The kind of look you’d see on every other girl on a crowded Saturday evening. But she was cool. She was cool because she was KNITTING! Seriously how cool is that? She was knitting a scarf in the warmest shade of grey. It was hypnotic really. I could tell that other commuters were looking at her needles, clicking away weaving in an out, mesmerized by the sheer defiance of KNITTING in Singapore. Now normally i would turn to her and tell her how cool it is and ask a bajillion questions about where to get good wool. But I didn’t. The needles were too mesmerising. I was scared that if I talked to her she’d stop knitting, become extremely uncomfortable and we’d have to spend the next excruciating half hour making small talk about wool. She’d never knit in public ever again and no one else would be able to see a person this cool knitting and IT WOULD ALL BE MY FAULT!

She was just too cool.

Dear You.

A little bird gnawed at my heart when I saw that picture of you with her. So it’s official. A Facebook-certified truth.

Yesterday you told me it’s over and the little bird flew. But today you told me you’re with her again.

And funnily enough, the bird never came back.
I’m just happy for you kiddo (:
that’s what matters.