Month: Dec 2018

The Fab 40s Enter An Apocalyptic Age

When it’s the end of the world, Would you fight or would you flee?   So when one thinks of the word, “Apocalypse“, images of destruction and bloody battles often come to mind.  Is it little wonder then that many of us, myself included, regularly miss that part wherein an apocalypse is also a revelation?  A discovery, and typically, of knowledge?  A vision of heavenly secrets which aims to make sense of earthly circumstances? For the purposes of this blog post though, I would hazard a safe bet that Shelbee meant for apocalypse to be a revelation about the end of the world. Doomsday, I’m guessing you could call it. G O O D V S E V I L A major confrontation between light and dark, destined to change the course of history. Depending on which belief system you subscribe to, some anticipate that post the apocalypse, the world will be shattered into particles and cease to exist while others predict that a brand new one will resurface anew and fertile. Whether you think …

Ho(e)! Ho(e)! Ho(e), Yo!!!

It’s a jolly, holly time. With Christmas around the corner.   I’ll make this short but to the point. I. Love. Christmas. I really really REALLY do. Especially growing up in Asia, my idea of Christmas was snow (but, of course), fireplace with flames a-crackling, being bundled up in scarves and beanies (with pom poms, no less), hot cocoa and eggnog, sleighs, reindeer, and jolly ole Saint Nick.  The reality was a smidge different.  No snow.  No logs burning or thick Winter clothing, and most definitely no posse of Santa’s helpers.  Still, the absence of those things did nothing to detract from Christmas being one of the most beautiful recollections of my childhood.  We didn’t have much, that’s for sure, but my parents worked so hard to give us incredible memories, and that’s what has stayed in me throughout all these years. That Christmas is truly so much more than presents. Or lush landscapes of picture perfect snow. Whilst my heart may go pitter patter pitter patter whenever I hear the sound of bells jingling …

Am I Really A Blogger If I Wear Sweatpants All The Time?

Yes, am I? Begs the question, eh?   There used to be a time when I would get dressed up every day.  Perhaps less of dressed to the nines, and more of dressed for work at the PR agency where I led a 7-member team.  So yes, I’d wake up by 6am.  Feed Eve (told you it was a while ago), make sure she had everything ready and the maid was duly briefed on what to cook for the day.  Shower, curl my hair, apply some make-up (which, at the time, was blusher, blue eyeliner as well as blue mascara, and pink lipstick, cringe).  Try on one outfit.  Take it off.  Try on yet another.  Still not right, pull on something else. Arrrgh! Nothing worked, and by now, there are piles of clothes strewn all over the floor. A frantic glance at my cellphone tells me it’s past 8:30, I’m still traipsing around in my undies, and if I don’t get dressed right that moment, I’m going to be royally late for work.  To provide …