Work hard, know your shit, show your shit.

A couple of weeks ago, I picked up Mindy Kaling's book Is Everyone Hanging out Without Me? by chance and really enjoyed the candid, funny and very honest tone that she takes. So after reading the book, I developed a serious girl crush on the author-comedian and actually went to check out The Mindy Project, which is created and starred by Mindy herself. Needless to say, I was hooked on the series and ended up binge watching it. I love the kooky, strong, independent career woman character who was looking for love and was not afraid to be vulnerable in love. And honestly, I loved the episode where Mindy began thinking about and carving a life for herself as a single mother when her aspirations did not follow Danny's.

To continue with my Mindy addiction, I went to get a hold of her second book, Why Not Me?, and went from cover to cover in just a couple of hours. The essays on life, love, fame, family, friends and self acceptance were funny and relate-able.

 

I particularly loved the part about confidence being earned through sheer hard work, bravery and determination. It reminded me of an article asking what one is willing to struggle for to have the life that they want. Well, I want to be a great Speech Pathologist, have great friends, be financially independent, and find the one who I want to come home to after a hard day's work. And in order to get there, I need to work darn hard, and not shy away from difficult and complex cases, be willing to fail in the course of my work and learn from my failures and the examples of other more senior colleagues, be willing to put myself in uncomfortable networking situations and grow my professional network. I need to learn to let down my walls and be vulnerable, to put myself out there and bounce back after rejection, to connect with others and let people in. I need to cut out frivolous purchases, confront my fear of numbers and learn to do my own financial planning. And most importantly, I need to learn to be bolder and not care about what people think, to not be a doormat, or operate passive-aggressively. These are what I am willing to do as I step into the next stage of my life. And surely, borrowing from a particular school motto (although I do not have the best impression of the school boys), the best is yet to be.

"Work hard, know your shit, show your shit, and then feel entitled. Listen to no one except the two smartest and kindest adults you know, and that doesn't always mean your parents. If you do that, you will be fine." 

I am, I am, I am.

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.
I am, I am, I am."

As it is International Women's Day, I guess it is fitting to feature the only novel written by American poet Sylvia Plath. I have long been fascinated by the poetry and the life of Sylvia Plath ever since I read her poem, Mad Girl's Love Song. A chance coincidence made me pick up the similarly titled biography of her life before Ted Hughes and threw me back into her genius and the intense emotional highs and plunging lows that characterised her life. Re-reading The Bell Jar was then the natural next step in my private study of Plath. I was struck by the brutal honesty of a young woman struggling to carve out an identity for herself while grappling with societal expectations of womanhood and domestication, and her eventual breakdown.  

This book rewards multiple readings, but the the lines written spoke particularly to me this time, especially as I am nearing the end of my twenties as a (rather) newly single female who is trying to establish my own independence and peace with myself.

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig-tree in the story. 

From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and off-beat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. 

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig-tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

Maps for Lost Lovers

Organised religion has always been for me a form of patriarchal oppression, where womankind are reduced to subservient beings first to their parents and brothers, and then to their husbands and children. A woman is not her own person, but always a subject to be submitted to God and to men, and Maps for Lost Lovers explored this in the form of a story about the honour killing of an illegitimate couple who were unable to legalise their union due to religious laws. 

Maps for Lost Lovers is a complex book that affords multiple readings. I was griped by all kinds of emotions while reading this book that was filled with differences between generations, genders, beliefs, cultures, laws etc. Despite the horror of the crime and the deep sorrow felt for the loss of the two beloved characters, there is much beauty to be found within the book in the form of the geraniums, birds, butterflies, and the changing seasons. And much love, whether that of fierce maternal love, tragic love between lovers from different religious backgrounds, unrequited love, or religious devotion. 

Coincidentally, I have recently started watching the original BBC 1981 Brideshead Revisited, another tale where organised religion is an underlying theme, and could not help making comparisons between Kaukab from Maps for Lost Lovers and Lady Marchmain from Brideshead. 

"The shop was named after her - Chanda Food & Convenience Store - but the sign above the entrance was painted over after she came back trailing the stink of failed marriages. The old name, it was felt, would needlessly remind people of the girl, their next thought probably being, 'Chanda - the twice-divorced girl.' I feel I am being erased, Chanda wrote in her diary angrily."

Gone Girl

I have finally finished reading what seemed to be the 2015 book/film of the year - Gone Girl, and what a harrowing read that was. What a crazy, psychotic tale about a marriage of true - but utterly depraved - minds! I was left a little more fearful of coupling up. Do couples really know each other? What if the person you married is not the person you think they are? What a truly terrifying thought! The story made me think about our perfectly crafted lives on our social media pages that possibly obscured darker truths, and of the power struggle evident in every relationship. I was left wondering if a truly equal partnership could be had in modern marriages.

The switch between the perspectives of husband and wife were really effective, and I was kept on my toes wondering who was the sane one, who was telling the truth, and then who would have the upper hand in the end.

Boulangerie 113

Documenting meals is a harder task than I imagined. The constant impulse to photograph meals can definitely impact the social aspect of mealtimes. I have not been a saint in what I choose to feed myself and in diligently keeping my food diary, but I'll certainly try my best.

So here is a record of some of my feeds from where I left off. 

I do adore this little French bakery. Boulangerie 113 does amazing breads and pastries. This time, I tried their filled baguettes after pole class. 

The walnut and Brie baguette was so good! 

Friday is not supposed to be my cheat day

Breakfast was taken in parts. I had an overnight milk soaked chia seeds with cherries and blueberries at home. And then a cheese roll while on the way to volunteering.  

Downed a cup of cappuccino for the daily caffeine intake and a banana for a late morning snack. 

Lunch was lemongrass chicken banh mi at Vietnamese Laundry, which was a lacklustre attempt at Vietnamese food. I much prefer heading to Soonta and Miss Mai for their flavour packed rolls and salads. 

I didn't feel satisfied from my Banh Mi and decided to get a custard polo bun from Nana. I love that the buns are soft and fluffy and that the custard is not too sweet. 

And then work beckoned and I had a cup of cappuccino, pasta with oven baked zucchini and carrots, a chocolate piece, half a bowl of mashed potato and an ice cream cone from Maccas on the way home. 

Food for the soul

My ambitious plan to wake up early for a run was waylaid by the want of a snooze. 

Breakfast was the first thing on my mind when I finally decided to rise, and I had a cheese roll with a slice of cheese and some peanut butter, overnight milk soaked chia seeds with a kiwi and a handful of blueberries, and a cup of green tea. 

I also had a cup of coffee with milk after volunteering. And then it was time to head home for a quick lunch. 

Lunch saw me slurping on soya bean and anchovy soup with vegetables, tofu and sweet potato noodles. I love clear soups and can have this everyday! I also had a serve of the last of the leftover baked dory fish. 

Chomped on a banana with chocolate chia nut butter for a sugar hit before heading out. 

Dinner was a huge spread as we went over to my classmate's place to surprise her and cheer her up. 

The spread comprised of rice, steamed tofu with prawn mince, pork rib soup with pumpkin, carrots and corn, chives omelette, stir fried sambal chilli wombok, stir fried eggplant and chicken mince, and char siu (which I didn't consume). 

I also had some cherries before bed.