All posts tagged: personal

Intimidation Comes In Many Forms

Do you ever feel intimidated to write something based on a theme?  That despite not feeling the topic, you’re supposed to create something because the empire of bloggers has decreed it as the IT subject of the moment? Truth be told, I have a new found respect for consistent bloggers and the art of blog continuity. By that I do not mean those of us with entourages and support teams. I mean those of us who are, simultaneously, blogger, photographer, developer, promoter extraordinare, full-time employee, parent, you know who you are. How many times have we sat with our hands poised over the keyboard, running thoughts through our minds and just as the words begin to flow, something happens. Distractions. Duties. Demands. So yes if you’ve been blogging on a regular basis, I am in awe. It’s not easy. Take this post for instance. It’s taken me 3 months to finish. You read right, three months, to complete it into the piece you’re now reading. As I type that, there’s this huge goofy grin plastered …

Botox Virgin No More

I can finally lay claim to having my Botox Cherry popped and quite recently too. No, not for the reason very likely flashing across your brain just about now 🙂 When I was 19, my then boyfriend and I were involved in a serious accident.  We were on his Scrambler bike turning right when a car rammed into us.  I literally flew about 20 feet and landed with my head hitting the curb.  To this day, I’m thankful for what seemed to be a splurge prior to the accident ~ $500 crash helmets.  That saved my life.  I suffered a broken wrist, a chunk of flesh scraped off my right shin (gross, I know) and a dent on the back of my skull.  It’s the latter which proved to be the catalyst for my Chronic Migraine.  Although, at the time, I simply chalked it down to really bad headaches.  Afterall, it was 1992 in Sarawak and medical facilities were, let’s say, wanting. A month ago, my Ophthalmologist (bless you, Dr Pham) referred me to a …

Don’t Forget The Oatmeal

Lately, I’ve been somewhat obsessed with oatmeal. For the longest time, I couldn’t fathom why.  I mean, I could take the easy route and blame it on my new trainer (from hell) who gives me a list of what to eat for my six meals a day regime.  To understand that, you’ll need to know that he’s a huge oatmeal aficionado, like of epic proportions.  Or I could attribute oatmeal to my desire to regularise certain bodily rhythms and we shall leave it on that ambiguous note. But in truth, it’s none of the above. Oatmeal simply reminds me of home.  My home in Kuching, Sarawak, East Malaysia.  It reminds me of growing up as the youngest of two and being utterly spoiled (shhh, brother, let’s not delve into details now).  You see, my Dad loved oatmeal, Quacker Oats to be precise, and he even had a special pot for it.  The cutest most la-la-land looking gizmo ever.  There was a specific ritual to the entire process from weight of oats measured with the precision …

Rising From The Ashes, I Am

Yes, a post has indeed been a long time coming and, honestly? Looking through the Archives, I see that my last post was dated 22nd February.  Oy.  Cringe, I cringe.  I’ve not been resting on my tush, I swear.  No indeed.  In fact, I’ve been working very hard.  As someone recently coined, I do have a grown-up job and it’s been keeping my nose pressed firmly to the grindstone of late. Also, I’ve had back-to-back trips to NYC within the space of a fortnight, then a week’s worth of time was spent in San Francisco for two separate events and when I finally got home, I realised it was month’s end. So this is just a quick note to say HELLO THERE and to assure everyone that I’m still (barely) alive and kicking and well 🙂 I shall post more later, I promise.   Love, SG

A Tale From The Heart

So I had a heart-to-heart with myself last night.  It was a combination of having read the first few chapters of Yuli Ziv’s book, “Bloggin Your Way To The Front Row”, as well as having returned from the IFB Conference with my head spinning.  I had to come to terms with many things namely my reasons for wanting to blog. As much as it pains me to write these thoughts in public, it’s probably a healthy way to start the detox process. I envy those nubile young things who look perfect from every which angle and whom can make even a potato sack look like haute couture. I am fiercely jealous of how skinny they are and how the world adores them, particularly the fashion houses. I want to be noticed too. I want to be famous. I. Want. To. Be. Just. Like. Them. But I can’t. I’m no young thing. I’m not skinny. I’m not photogenic and I most certainly don’t have a figure to rival that of a clothes rail. I’m 40. I’m …