Author: Sheela Goh

Denim Dreams

Denim, Denim, Wherefore art thou?   Do you belong in the workplace? These days, that’d be an emphatic affirmative, I’m certain.  Regardless of the nature of what you do, and the environment of your workplace.  Be it on a daily basis or as part of Casual Friday attire, denim definitely has a place in your working wardrobe.  And isn’t that a lovely thing?  Yes, even for someone like me who discovered blue jeans very late in life (hey, I’m making up for lost time as we speak, case in point, this post). And so, when Debbie and I began chatting about working together (the last time, it was a trifecta of velvet goodness), we decided on good ole jeans. As is often the case, my mind immediately leapt to several points of irony. Once upon a time (4 years ago, to be precise), I posted an anti-denim project (with Ann) which, soon enough, paved the way for denim to be seen here but conservatively, i.e., heels.  That, in turn, opened the door for this sighting …

The Fab 40s Meet Lord Animal & Lady Neon

Staying grounded. How does one do that these days?   A shared insight on one of Deb’s Instagram posts sparked an entire conversation around the topic of grounded.  Staying grounded.  How we strive to attain it in this mad, mad world.  What it means to each of us which, by the way, has had me pondering.  What does staying grounded even mean to me?  I know I use the phrase on occasion.  I’ve heard it spoken around me many a time and am (always) guilty of nodding my head in acquiescence without once asking the one who mouthed those words, what staying grounded really meant to them. Are we talking about being spiritually grounded?  You know, all that warm, fuzzy feeling around the campfire (can you tell I’m a bit of a cynic?)?  Or being emotionally grounded (levelheaded, humble)?  Or are speaking in terms of experience, education, knowledge?  Lord.  So much to soak in. Today, I choose to focus on living a grounded life, staying in touch with my emotions and thoughts, and, well, being …

The Fab 40s Do The Decade

40s, 50s, 60s? Which One Spells You?   Lately my mind has been preoccupied with the concept of courage.  Daring to do things I normally wouldn’t because I’d be too afraid.  Be it something as rudimentary as swapping signature red for a softer pink on the lips, or walking up to a complete stranger at an event and saying, “Hello!! I’m Sheela, what’s your name?”. Admittedly, accompanying that heady rush of adrenaline (aka bravado) is an equally powerful sense of nausea and wanting to throw up but still, courage and being courageous have been taking over my heart, mind and spirit these days. The courage to speak my mind when I feel my needs are not being met or when I believe my opinions are not being heard.  Courage to reach out and ask for something I know I deserve and am fully capable of helping it realise its full potential.  And no longer allowing society to dictate whether I can or cannot based on some unfathomable parameters.  Most of all, the courage to recognise …

Extra(ordinary)

Now I’m ready, To be extraordinary.   Question. What do you do to turn the ordinary little things into extraordinary amazing things?  By that I don’t mean something divine or perched upon a lofty pedestal.  What I mean is that we need to take the time to see within the ordinary, its capacity to be a precious thing.  Something utterly extraordinary.  A gift. Steering away from telling ourselves to strive for extraordinary lives.  That we can only be happy, only feel fulfilled if we lead extraordinary lives for while that might seem aspirational (admirable perhaps), it can also be rather lofty and fraught with unrealistic idealism.  All of which could very well be the path to setting ourselves up for disappointment. Instead, we should be seeking to find the joy and marvel in living an ordinary, normal life.  Once we do that, the most mundane of things (nondescript even) will pulsate and come alive with magic and wonder.  The extraordinary will happen on its own then. Take for instance the act of baking. With Thanksgiving …

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 …

The Fab 40s Say Yeehaw, Y’All

Influencing the Influencer. What does that even mean?   Today, I want to talk about who influences the influencers. And if those influences we’re letting in are positive. Or not. Such a fabulously fascinating topic.  Here we are, going on about how much we care for our readers (some of whom we call friends) and, consequently, the due diligence we conduct upon every product and service showcased on our social media platforms.  And yet we ourselves often neglect to housekeep what (or who) influences us in turn. A U D I T W H O A N D W H A T S P E A K S T O U S What we allow into our ears.  Into our minds and hearts and spirits.  Choosing who (or what) has the authority to capture our attention and affect it.  Being selective about the people or the things which have the power to make us feel relevant. Of course, the fact that many most of us are surrounded by social media and the powerful imagery it …

The Fab 40s Go Goth

Aka the “It’s Not You, It’s Me” post.  Once upon a time in Houston, Sheela got pissed with WordPress.  And the damn phone because it kept dinging with alerts.  Merrily.  Repeatedly.  All the damn time.  Driving her up the (proverbial) wall. And that isn’t even the crux of today’s post.  Just a wee digression of aggression.  I love a good pun, I love a bad one even more GRIN hello my friends, thank you for stopping by today.  I’m going off on a new look and feel (or rather, approach) to blogging.  It’s subtle though so I am wondering if you see it. This time last week, I was at FierceCon2018. Catherine’s baby.  A haven wherein women (and a few men) congregated to share and motivate.  To connect.  Inspire and be inspired.  To find a sister.  Or tribe.  Both. Give me a little time to gather my thoughts, and I will tell you ALL about it.  What I was privileged to hear.  The stories told by truly brave souls.  Things I’ve become aware of ever …

The Fab 40s Put On Plaid

It’s not just black and white. It’s practically everything in between.   I don’t recall what led to it precisely but the other day, someone asked whether I viewed the world in black and white.  What an immensely interesting question.  Particularly given the timing, and current state of things.  Without rehashing what’s been playing out in my life of late (you can read about it here and here), it’s safe to say that change has been dominating the scene.  Rather like a zephyr sweeping across the horizon, creating patterns in the landscape, swiftly moving from side to side, and everything in between. And that is why my response was that I’ve gone from viewing the world in greyscale (with certain moments in subtle shades, like a two-colour process) to now experiencing everything in full technicolour wonder. I T’ S E X H I L A R A T I N G And it’s been in the simplest of things too. Consuming garlic, for one.  Or working out at the oddest of hours whether it’s because …