for the girls / part. dos

adolescence

pubescence

juvenescence

growing up
.



helloooo ladies,
this time I want to take you back,
way back.
waaaaaaaaaaaaay
back.
to bring you to how this girl
became this 23 year old girl.
So if you've been making,
what seems like,
mistakes.

Don't worry,
I probably made them too.

You wore something completely horrid
in public?
That's fine,
I still do.

I know
it doesn't seem like a very christmasy sort of blog
but I'm sick.
I keep taking pills every 4 hours that make me drowsy.
and in a way, it is almost 2015.
a great time to reflect on the past,
to take a peek into the future
and share embarrassing ancient photos of me
to you all.

Let me start you off easy.
I wasn't always like this (see pictures below)
like I knew what I was wearing?

HA!

Let you in a little secret.
The outfit I'm wearing in the first picture
was sponsored, and I had to return it.

In the Alexander Wang event pictures,
I went around Hong Kong scrambling through affordable shops,
two hours before the event might I add,
looking for a decent outfit that would say
"it doesn't look H&M but it's definitely not a McQueen"
It was from Zara.
The heels on the other hand
were in fact from H&M.

Sweating in a public toilet,
in the disabled persons cubicle
plastering on layers of makeup
trying to make my 10 minute deadline to the event.

Moving along.
We've established that I was and still am a rookie.
But the journey of scraped knees and fashion mishaps
 is a much interesting story to tell.

          

Internet,

meet pubescent Asha.

13 y/o, 14 y/o, 16 y/o

 The first thing I dealt with as a major

appearance change was my eye sight.

Away with the glasses, in with contact lenses!

A life saviour. 

No more sweat dripping summers

with my glasses slowly slipping off my nose.

Then, my parents helped me deal with my teeth.

Here's me looking like I succeed academically.

Which I didn't.

It was an award for being No.1 in my whole grade 

in our English exam.

Every year.

Awkward.

On the subject of school,

my 23 year old self misses it.

But I know if I were given the chance to go back,

I wouldn't.

Because the experience I had was irreplaceable.

I wouldn't do anything differently.

No test I would have actually studied for.

No friend I would have unmet.

No class I would have not slept.

public study rooms we never took seriously.

no studying was really ever accomplished.

Shocking that is,

I was ever part of the computer class though.

I even CHOSE this class VOLUNTARILY.

It was either that or art class.

And we both know,

I knew nothing about art.

But then again,

I knew nothing about computers.

Binary what?

10 boys 5 girls.

clearly,

I made the right choice.

Now,

you know how far back I'm going

when these moments were worth a picture.

Wait

No pictures with my face to prove that I was a confused teenager

with fashion issues and severe teenage personality complex?!

BEHOLD!

My love for Liverpool FC

especially toward Fernando Torres

before HEBROKEMYHEART

MAY HE FOREVER

ROT IN FOOTBALLHELLLLLLLLLLLLL

Stevie G baby, it's all you now ♥

Why I/we thought this was a good idea for a picture,

I'll never know.

Oh 

and this one 

↓

The picture above is a picture

of me and one of my students

who I taught at a tutorial center.

Teaching English is always more fun with a 11 year old.

a 17 year old girl with a steady pay check 

still needs her girls,

and a favourite shirt which one of her best girl has too.

Sadly,

the innocent age of sober kareoke 

and sober anything really

came to a stop.

drunken alcoholic antics ensued.

by the way,

can you tell I'm wearing 

the same shirt in the two pictures above

as well as the on the left picture below?

I really loved that shirt.

I didn't even know how to put my own makeup on.

so drunk,

sooo drunk.

Needless to say

I don't remember much from those nights.

The next chapter of my life -

I went to England for a year.

here's a picture of costa in the background

to prove I was there.

↑

Did I mention the shirt?

Alcohol man,

it doesn't make you,

it just breaks you.

It was fine the first few months,

yet the appeal of having mindless fun

inevitably grew cold.

physically

my liver couldn't take it.

and to be honest,

even mentally

I couldn't take it.

Picture on left -

Yes, I have one of those embarrassing chav-esque pictures

with a bottle to my lips

like I was so cool.

second of all,

DO YOU EVEN SEE WHAT I'M WEARING?

I had this thing, 

this "style",

a theory

if you will - 

That after I turned 18,

I didn't need to compensate with dressing

older than I actually was.

If my ID said I was legal,

why bother dressing up?

I preferred being un-stylishly comfortable.

It is a choice I have never regretted.

I already conformed to drinking alcohol with the masses,

leave me and my fashion choices alone.

Whilst in England,

bored,

I had already started my youtube channel,

so what else was there to do?

I dyed my hair red.

on the other side of things,

I absolutely loved my flatmates/host family.

I didn't need any alcohol around them,

everything was so simple and sober.

I remember all the good times.

outside of bournemouth

these two were also life saviours,

a good healthy balance of alcohol and friendship

with a pinch of harry potter fandom.

And till this day,

I think we all need friends like that.

People who you don't require any other substance

to keep things interesting.

So effortless.

✈

Eventually,

I went home.

Back to Hong Kong.

Who was I kidding?

I couldn't stay away.

Fashion wise,

nothing changed.

Already 19 and still I chose to wear

a black t shirt with an orange skull on it.

with white shorts,

just in case it wasn't bad enough.

Only gone a year,

my girls were having babies!

Speaking as a 19 year old girl,

to another 19 year old girl,

who makes the big, life changing decision

to become a mother at 19.

I truly admire you.

I don't care how you got pregnant,

you might have been caught in the moment,

you might have planned it.

despite reasons,

I admire you for choosing to become a mother so soon.

The sacrifices and the responsibility

still frighten me at 23.

You gave birth to a human being.

holy crap,

500 bad ass life points to you.

She trusted me with her new born son,

I think that says a lot about how I had matured.

I was 20 when this ↓ picture was taken,

not much had changed.

maybe a tad wiser,

less alcohol,

better t shirt choices.

obviously.

So yeah,

that's basically it.

It's almost another year,

and I'm still growing.

And so are you.

You're probably wearing the wrong stuff now,

but you'll look back and see how much you've improved.

You're learning.

There really are no mistakes when you look back.

Because it brought you to where you are now.

And I think,

it's somewhere you should be.

2014  October - Grand Canyon by Caro Pak

*

previous chapter

for the girls / part uno

lashes & wishes

There once was a little girl who wanted too many wishes.
And everyone knows,
you can't wish for more wishes
unless you obtain the first wish
to wish for more wishes.

This is the story of that little girl who wanted too many wishes.

One day, while dancing to songs in her head in father's study,
she bumped into a bookcase
and a large book fell with a firm thud.
A book about mystical myths and how to conjure them for fun.
She discovered a secret no little girl should know,
especially a little girl who wanted the world.

The book spoke to her about kings and queens who conquered kingdoms,
emperors with bad tempers who ruled over dynasties.
A millenium of mistakes corrected by a wish made over the next century.

It may sound foolish to a non-believer
but to gain power of wishes was really quite simple.
Hardly a sacrifice required.
A single fallen eyelash held the power of a wish.
Place it on your finger tip, think hard and long,
blow gently and make that lucky lash airborne.

This little girl could barely believe what she had read.
An eyelash? She had them.
Many in fact.
Now all she had to do was wait for a fallen.

The very next morning, as she woke and rubbed her eyes
an eyelash was found by her pillow side!
Practically giddy and head full of flight,
this little girl had her sights set high.

She decided to be cautious and not waste her one wish on wishing for more wishes,
because she didn't know if wishing for that would make her wish invalid!
Why risk it all when she still had so many lashes that would soon come falling?

She wished for a pony and poof! there it popped.
But, come on, let's be real here,
that little girl, like most little girls
quickly got bored.
Well everyone guessed right now,
She then rubbed some more.

She rubbed and rubbed, then rubbed some more.
Wish after wish, these lashes brought.
She got rid of the queen, a sultan, the president too.
Vladimir Putin?
He disappeared too.

This little girl became an Empress, with no idea on how to rule.
She just kept plucking until her lash pores turned blue.
"I wish for the boy, who said I looked fat,
to climb the highest mountain,
and never come back."

She lifted her finger, with the plucked lash on its tip,
thought long and hard but blew roughly so the wish would be quick.

Oh no! Too late! What happened next?
This little girl forgot to check.
To check around her eyes, guess what she found?
No more lashes growing out! Not one!
Rubbed too much or maybe plucked too hard,
Sadly she didn't know,
eye lashes for wishing are supposed to fall out.
So many were plucked too soon with barely a root,
not enough time for wishing magic to come true.

Poor little girl, also forgot
to read the small print on the back and the front.
Because if she did she would have known,
lashes and wishes both need time to grow.

You see,
when a lash falls out, all on its own,
it's actually the Universe saying
you deserve a wish, go on, blow.
Now everyone knows,
the Universe won't stand for things unfair,
even little girls like this one won't be spared.

What eventually happened to her,
this no one knows.

I'm sorry that the next part doesn't quite rhyme,
but reality sometimes just isn't that kind.

Safe to say, I think I'm right
that she's been
exiled into a lashless-oblivion.

https://www.facebook.com/itsashaetc/videos/1575699345981176/

for the girls / part. uno

hey girlz hey,

this blog is for all my underaged ladies out there.

Or, you might be of legal age and have yet to face this dilemma —

boys.

okay, okay.

I have to be completely honest before I get into this :

I don't know much.

But I mean,

come on,

how much is there to know.

hehe.

I would like to bring you back to 15 y/o Asha.

Fresh into form 4, 

bright eyed and hopeful about the future Asha.

Painfully ignorant little Asha.

I also want to be a half open book to you all,

I still want to keep some parts of my life private,

but I need to share the other half.

First of all cos it's funny, you might learn something,

and it's funny.

First chapter,

the courtship.

*

RULE NO.1

< Don't Be Easy >

On most occasions,

I was dumb and easy.

They'd ask via ICQ/MSN

"wanna be my girlfriend?"

and I'd be like,

"yeah,k,cool."

er, WRONG.

Too fast, too soon.

Where's the fun in that and yes,

they'll lose interest in you after you log off.

So, keep it lingering, don't be gullible

the chase is fun, you're young

take. it. slow.

but don't be too hard to get, 

and don't be a bitch about it.

You'll get the hang of it.

With many years of practice to come.

Let me be the first to tell you,

I told you so.

RULE NO.2

< Making Out Is Boring >

Not so much a rule than it is a heads up. 

Boys when they're 15, 16, 17 - 21 - 30... etcetera etcetera etc.

don't have much attention to detail when it comes to intimate moments

in which we girls oh so truly long for.

The minute they see your breasts,

all suspense goes out the window.

It's like they've been waiting for it their whole lives,

every pick up line, every effort to make you feel "special"

lead up to this.

Boobs.

Oh, glorious boobs.

Minute after minute after minute will be spent in that specific area,

with you staring into oblivion,

into the ceiling,

across the room,

slowly d r i f t i n g off

... . .. .

.

bored out of your mind.

-disclaimer-

sorry mum, dad if you're reading this.

love you.

eng lit coursework '09

Hong Kong – “The Pearl of The Orient”. China being its overly protective oyster. The governments ‘one country; two system’ rule restricts and prevents Hong Kong shining out of its confined communist shell but I don’t intend to drag on about politics when there is so far more to Hong Kong worth mentioning without China ruining it.

Travel guides describe this little yet significant part of China with unconvincing enthusiasm. If they think they’ve written out every possible detail that they could squeeze dry out of this deep and narrow harbour; they are pitifully mistaken. I can proudly and certainly say they lack in so much characteristics that they should be ashamed of themselves as respectable published travel guides. Yes, they may have succeeded in mentioning the city and parts of the countryside, aspects of Hong Kong they consider worth talking about. However from what I have seen and the things that I have had the chance to experience are far greater than any random travel guide to Hong Kong any bookshop could ever possibly dream to deliver. 

Destinations are vital but so are the people within it. In no other city could you ever end up leaving so confused. 

Dinner, dinner. Where does one go for dinner in this little yet significant part of China? We decided to take a tram with more than 100 years of history down three stops to take the MTR (like the ‘tube’ in London). On the tram, we passed one of many McDonald food chains and other western restaurants. Who ever said the Chinese only ate dog? A western dinner was definitely the last thing on our minds. We thought it would be best to taste something traditional that would symbolize Hong Kong in the pit of our stomach. Bustling through the hectic crowd underground, funny how I could see the top of most people’s heads, I felt like a giant. The only reason why I would feel out of place is because of my height. We got out of exit A, Mong Kong station. Strange how words are merely spelt out the way the locals pronounce it, yet we still seem to sound like complete morons when we attempt to do the exact same thing. Nevertheless, we do try. Taxi drivers appreciate our efforts to speak these strange characters with much joy and amusement. He drops us off at some peculiar corner restaurant with tables out on the pavements. Barely remembering my 6 months of Cantonese lessons, I manage to say “Ng goi sai”, which is thank you very much in Cantonese, to him as he places my change carefully into my hands. He smiles and drives off. I turn around to face my colleagues and I get my first look of where I was going to have my traditional, Hong Kong symbolizing dinner. There were groups of friends and family sitting on those plastic little stools without a backrest around more than 15 tables laid with a thin layer of plastic. Everyone was happily chirping away in Cantonese. Strange being in a country where I could no longer understand the conversation or eavesdrop on the nearest table. We were placed next to a table of Chinese teenagers, as we settled down on our plastic stools they hoisted up their coke filled glasses to cheer and start their meal. Not one bottle of alcohol could be seen on their table, was this their culture? It was a refreshing change to finally not see a bunch of 18 year olds drunk out of their minds in public. I admired in silence across the table, watching as they skillfully maneuvered their chopsticks to pick at the dishes in front of them. Occasionally, they would place the food between the end of their chopsticks to a friend next to them and into their bowls. Must be their act of politeness and respect even amongst friends. I sighed. British teenagers could learn so much from the Chinese. 

Fascinated by their culture, manner and behaviour. I was unaware that I had been staring at them for far too long. Feeling my stare, one looked up at me as he used one hand to lift his bowl, placing it right to his lips, as the other hand held his chopsticks to scoop the rice into his mouth. Realizing how uncomfortable I must have been making them feel, I smiled uneasily, hoping I had not offended them. He seemed to accept my ignorance and smiled politely back at me then continued with his dinner.  Relieved, I looked down. My own pair of chopsticks laid lifeless on the plastic sheet. I carefully picked them up as if they were fragile pieces of glass and studied them closely. How the hell do they work these things? I was completely confounded. I did not have a clue how to control them with my fingers without possibly spraining a muscle. Why did the bloody Chinese invent them? Surely a fork, a knife and a spoon were sufficient enough. In fact, I think it should be prioritized and globalized. Must they make eating utensils so complex and stressful for those outside their culture? Nevertheless, complaining does not fill an empty stomach. I looked from the dish opposite me back to the bowl near my chest. The distance between dish to bowl was a challenge and an embarrassing struggle. Noodles came in three strands or slipped out before I could catch it with my bowl and meat dropped through the lose grasp of my chopsticks. The battle was between, the chopsticks, the food and me. It took me a few moments to finally get the hang of them with the right amount of strength. I conquered my chopsticks. A smug grin crept across my face; I was more than thrilled of my tiny accomplishment. Until I looked up to see that my colleagues were grinning in amusement and jokingly mocking my success. To my disappointment, they did not care much about my joy. Collecting myself, I brought back the proud feeling I had previously and continued with my lemon chicken. Satisfied. 

Can't wait for dinner tomorrow.

*

- Present [A] -

: 「 Quite strange reading stuff which I wrote when I was 17/18? 

Please note that I was to write as a travel blogger who had never been to Hong Kong.

And I do sound like a man in my writing.

Maybe I was writing as if I were.

If it came off racist, I'm sorry.

Just think of me as a 50 year old British man who knows nothing of Asia. 

And to be honest,

I still don't. 」

the dark side

I've finally faced the dark side of this industry I am in.
I have plans to speak of it when I have my hiatus, or for better, leave.
Slight suspicion that it will be soon.
I really don't think I ever was made, let alone born, to be in this business.
It's not me.
I've met some fantastically admirable people along the way.
Yet,
I've also met vile specimens that dare call themselves human.
4 years does seem like a tipping point,
In this shallow bottle of an industry, I think I'm at the brim,
just about to spill.

2010

once a rookie,

always a rookie.

GOH ZIL AHHHHH

I know it's late. 

Way late for this review. 

I wrote notes on my phone whilst watching the movie, 

and that was nearly three weeks ago. 

June 4th. 

It is now June 22nd. 

Better late than never.

hehe :)

So, I'd like to state my main and official opinion on the movie, Godzilla (2014). 

 WAS FREAKIN' AMAZING. AH MAY ZING. 

I don't know if what I'll be mentioning in this review is considered as spoilers because there really isn't much to be spoiled. Godzilla does show himself and there are big fight scenes, Aaron Johnson is gorgeous but his acting is still... slightly.. meh. But that does not effect how I truly enjoyed the film.

So I'm guessing the biggest spoiler (to me at least) would be how subtle they brought out the sweet beast. Ah, I've found the spoiler, I won't go on about the sweetness of Godzilla, even though I utterly fell in love with the beast at the end of the movie. Absolute kitty. 

Back to the subtle thing, as someone who didn't watch the trailer before going to see the film, I was expecting it to be a massive monster flick. Roaring, stomping and catastrophe right at the beginning. I was sorely mistaken and quite taken aback. You don't see Godzilla for quite sometime, he just lurks, never stealing or should I say claiming his rightful spotlight. You literally just see bits of him for a good half of the movie, a tail and some scaly spikes here and there. To me, I loved that. I loved and truly commend those on the crew who decided: "Yes, this time we want Godzilla to be mysterious and graceful. Not some low grade monster that mindlessly thrashes a city about and just waltzes off." It just made everything about this movie, especially to Godzilla, so much more badass. You just had to feel the presence and let it slowly lead you into the big finale. Nothing dramatic, nothing overly done. 

Apart from Godzilla, there are two other monsters who are equally misunderstood and just sadly caught in the wrong era of time. All they wanted to do was consume and conserve energy, then hopefully mate, bring their offspring into the world and start a family of their own. How did they know they were trampling over human race and unravelling mayhem for everyone. Poor souls. 

You can try and hate them, but I definitely don't see them as the villains. Simply wrong place, wrong time. 

This image is so misleading if you're not thinking about it the way you'll do when the movie is over.

BOOM.

What else what else...

The cinematography is breathtaking. There is this scene where Aaron Johnson airdrops from a plane and into the city where the monsters are battling it out. The scene is shot through Johnson's perspective and watching it in an IMAX theatre, feeling myself falling through the air, scraping past Godzilla just engulfed me completely. 

I have to at least mention something that bugged me I suppose. Okay, Aaron Johnson's character was way to lucky. Never got caught long enough, never died, never injured. Just breezes past and is reunited with his family. 

(Don't tell me that's a spoiler because we all know that it was gonna happen, so shush.)

x

[A]

delay

I've moved.

Again.

Hence the delay of E V E R Y T H ING.

hashtagjoffery

book case

Time for that breakfast.

She walked past a petty excuse for a bookcase, in its size, not for the quantity of books it carried. Barely enough space horizontally or vertically to force another book into the cracks. Books were an obsession and book shops were unavoidable. With nothing in mind, no particular book of interest, she'd still roam a book shop. Scanning the shelves, the discount box and going through the authors in alphabetical order. Some book titles were so desperate that she had to adopt them. If someone were to appreciate them, it would be her. Yet, after taking the chosen books home, she'd rarely read them. Probably the occasional random pick, possibly 2008's best seller. She never really understood why she had this need to have books. Maybe some part of her wanted a rare guest to think that she was well cultured, or maybe she was just compensating for something she lacked just like the rest of us. So there they stayed, at least that was the case for most of them. Adventures that this reluctant traveler had no intention of experiencing.

Now,
where's that frying pan?

*

chapter six

the nonstick frying pan

chapter five

-

chapter four

my precious

chapter three

xoxo

chapter two

no pieces

chapter one

new bay-boo