Scattered Stars



A recent conversation with P talking about rings and their significance had me recall: I had a ring too, once.  I used to wear it on my right hand because I didn’t like wearing accessories on my left.  I’ve never told anyone, but I wore that ring for a very long time, even after the breakup, and I also remember how my finger developed a tan line from wearing that ring.

The thing is, to me, the bad stuff is just…well, bad.  And I can handle the bad things, you deal with them and you stop dwelling.  But the good things, the memories–they haunt, impale, and embed.  I don’t know what else they do, but I think they behave like some kind of emotional shrapnel.

But that was just my ring and my promises.  And then I wondered why and for what.  I don’t remember when, that one day I just decided to wear the ring for one last time and allow myself to be saturated with the horrible good memories.  Then I took it off, and I never wore it again.  So I guess if we’re going to talk about the significance of rings, then that should be as symbolical as it could possibly get.

I didn’t notice when the un-tanned portion of flesh managed to blend in with the rest of the finger.  Call me heartless, but I also don’t remember where the ring is now.  I’m a hoarder, hoarders know that the item is in the drawer, somewhere, but they just don’t know where it is, exactly.

I think I’ve mentioned to my friends before; that I am nothing more than a mirror reflecting the aura they present to me.  And this is why I need to be with pleasant and happy people; they bring out the best in me.  People who are constantly miserable, well, are generally miserable to be with.

I seldom get sinus attacks, but when I do, it is diabolical, and I wake up from pounding headaches.  It’s like getting a hangover without the benefits of the alcohol the night before.  For a morning person to wake up feeling like crap, is very bad.  I know it is a hard day when I realise that I have yet to smile.

I know that also because many years ago when I went through that breakup, I sat down one day and I questioned: when was the last time I felt really happy?  And then I couldn’t answer my own thoughts, because I really couldn’t remember.  So after a year of pretending that I had it together, I decided that I’d had it with myself, and that my friends had probably had it with my dreadful acting as well, I ran away.   And then I came back.

It took me all of one week to come back renewed and happy.  Call it a self-discovery trip or whatever, but being truly alone, worked.  If anything, I also affirmed that I do make a terrible actress, and came to terms that the film industry was definitely out for me.  I summarise my life a lot, details can be heartbreaking for those people who care.

But that was then.  Why did I even talk about this.

Oh, sinus attacks.  See what happens when you start your days with oppressive headaches and breathing disabilities.  It makes you think about and do strange things; such talking about the past, such as discussing deaths with P, and as if it was not depressing enough, I went on and lived through a book about deaths.  Reading about protagonists’ dying process made me feel somewhat rude for intruding.

The point is I need to stop radiating misery over a book, and over my headache.  I need some time to rearrange myself and constellate my scattered thoughts.

And sometime in between my constellation, there’s a bottle of vodka that I need to finish up; E wants a vodka bottle as a water bottle to drink from at work.

I'm not working hard enough, clearly.

I’m not working hard enough, clearly.

So let me raise my glasses and lift my spirits! Literally and figuratively! And maybe I’ll paint better; I mean that’s what artists do, right?  They drink and then they get inspired.

Gosh.  I’m going to read a chicklit.  No more dying now, ok?!

This might work for my sinus attacks.

This might work for my sinus attacks.


Heart to Art


I read this article last night, and it struck a chord with me.  Until this article, I never knew it was possible for someone to separate the heart from a great amount of effort & technique, and what a difference a little heart can make.  It is true that we’re our own harshest critic, but I am pretty glad now, because however imperfect (and sometimes horrible) my works look to me, I know for sure my heart is always there.

If there is always something to learn from everything, then I guess from this article and this artist,  it is a good reminder: whatever one gains in technique, one should never lose his heart in the process.

Art is very close to my heart; it means so much to me, and although it might have been an obvious thing to others, it took me a while to notice it for myself.  Or perhaps I had already realised; I just didn’t know how much at the time.  Put in a little more heart, and have faith that the technique will follow.  The heart comes first, always.

What Do I Do?


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I get asked a lot, “By the way, Jess, what do you do?”

Because I bake, but I'm no pastry chef.

Because I bake, but I’m no pastry chef.

Some friends are curious, mostly because I hardly post on facebook anything about my work.  Well, I am a garment printer in the manufacturing industry.  I see my prints from the development process right up to the bulk production, from quotation to planning and coordination.  Of course, my job also ensures I blow my top off at regular intervals, mostly at people and their ridiculous requests and/or insulting price negotiations.

Being in the export business also mean that almost everything that you do is, in fact, an amazing race against the export deadline.  Miss the shipment date, and you’re pretty much screwed.  So yup, that’s what I do.   Don’t get me wrong though; I love what I do, and I’m pretty good at what I do.  It just that my work can be quite technical, and most people probably won’t understand much of it anyway.    To make things worse, I post on facebook many things which I do, that I might call them “very unprinterly”.  And I guess that’s why friends are curious.

So I made a list, because making lists is good for you.  It didn’t occur to me that I did so many things until I made the list;  I guess all I can say is coffee really works.  Now, behold the unprinterly things I do!

I am an artist-wannabe.  I sketch and doodle and swirl watercolours, whenever I can, wherever I am.

Trees are looking better now!

Trees are looking better now!

With you in 5


I’m also a papercrafter-wannabe; I love making handmade cards, boxes, packaging and all pretty things.

I cook and bake (what’s a party without desserts??).

Lemon and chocolate macarons for an aerial party.

Lemon and chocolate macarons for an aerial party.


Strawberry layer cake for a farewell party.

Strawberry layer cake for a farewell party.

I practice yoga (should have done it ten years ago, but better late than never).  I learn aerial arts (I’m terrible at it, but I’m trying).  I know a little about essential oils and natural skincare, brewing potions as I go along.

Bruise Balms, for all risky endeavours.

Bruise Balms, for all risky endeavours.

I have green fingers now (they’re not the bloodstains of the plants which I had killed off, no).  I talk to plants and animals, and occasionally help snails to cross the pavement.

Oh, sometimes I help trim my mother’s hair—it takes great courage to trust your daughter with your hair, and even greater courage for the daughter to cut her mother’s hair.

You know, I’m starting to see the reason why I’m not book-smart—I think my brains went to my hands.  It’s nice to feel like a useful person, but nicer to know that my best friends love me for who I am, and not for the things that I make.

For a perfect gathering over food and conversations, with all my perfect people.

For a perfect gathering over food and conversations, with all my perfect people.

Happy Valentine’s!



Okay…It might seem a silly of me to turn down a few dates on Valentine’s day and choose to work out instead.  Well that’s because I’m currently in the opt out program. Not saying that dating & relationship’s not good, or not nice; I just don’t feel that I need it–too much effort for too little wow factor, plus I really don’t see the draw anymore.

So I’m opting out of the dating scene and spending more time to work on my routines. It makes perfect sense to me, because routines are promises that something will happen eventually.

I’m really glad though, to see many of my friends happily attached and in love, and that’s why despite my choice, it still didn’t stop me from painting hearts and throwing romance all around.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all! ♥

Happy Birthday, Hazey Girl

I wonder how it’d be, for you at 28, and for me at 31, to come together, to laugh, to bitch about all the silly stuff, and to lose track of time.  If only I knew how to bake fancy cakes then.  If only I could bake one for you now.  So many things have changed since, but my thoughts of you remain the same.

Happy 28th, Hazel.  With love.