Sunday, 30 June 2013

2 bestfriends

2 best friends are running away from a pack of wolves. One of them can't keep up and is slowing down, the other one is still going strong. The one that can't keep up falls down and sprains his leg therefore he can't run. The other friend looks back and sees the wolfs approaching fast, he pulls out his sword to fight the wolfs. However he rethinks the situation and decides to help his friend up to continue the trek. Whilst helping his friend to get up his friend on the floor slices his leg off. It turns out he faked it all along, he walked for a few steps before turning around to his injured friend and looked him in the eye "I'm sorry.'

Thursday, 20 June 2013

For those that love happy endings

I give you the Paperman.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSxJkKiHXbw

My girlfriend's parents doesn't like me because I don't have enough zeros in my bank

So today I attended a coffee barista art class, it was pretty cool learning things like layering the coffee to art techniques for presentation. The trainer was a very interesting guy, he was a huge fan of star wars, he even attempted to explain why Luke Skywalker is 'technically not a Jedi.'I don't know if that is even possible. I also meant this half European/Australian guy in around his mid 20's he was a pretty laid back chilled guy, and since I partnered up with him for all the  coffee activities we ended up conversing about a lot of things. He asked me ' Bro do you have a girlfriend' I smiled and told him 'Naa bro not yet, my mum the other day planned out my life again for like the 7th time, she wants me to have one when I finish uni '

'Bro if it comes it comes man, you don't really have control over it'

Of course he was right, you don't know really when it does come. To my surprise however he told me he told me he already had 3 x's. The first one went overseas and they both lost contact over time due to the distants. The second one had drunk sex with his best mate, that turned out really ugly. The last one texted him one night 'I just don't feel it anymore.......' When I heard this I felt really bad for the guy, then I thought about how harsh the world can be out there, especially in the love section.

 However the good news was that he has dated his current girlfriend for almost three years and wants to get married to her. The most shocking news comes next though the thing that was holding everything back was the one thing that his girlfriend's parents told him at dinner one night. 'Do you have a lot of money, are you financially stable enough to support my daughter. He stuttered for a few seconds cause he didn't know what to say, this got his girlfriend's parents eye browns a raise. This one question got him feeling really down the next few months. He told  me me he was a waiter but recently lost him job since they were making cuts, he wanted to do this barista class to try something new. After watching countless Vietnamese soapies when I was younger when my parents, where the country boy doesn't get to marry the girl in the city because he is poor,  and all the other movies where a similarly scenario happens. I really did think that that was a thing of the past, I guess he did convinced me otherwise. He told he regrets not pursing further studies at university because he couldn't be bothered with school. I tried to cheer him up by pulling the old 'oh by bill gates. steve jobs and.... all made it rich and they all dropped out of high school, you have to take your chances, who knows what could happened....' But he just a lil smirk and said 'One in a million bro, one in a million.'

Money can be so cruel sometimes.


Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Suicide

So recently I found out that Owen Wilson wanted to commit suicide back in 2008, he slitted his wrist and took films. I was quite shocked when I had heard about it since  it was Owen Wilson the super laid back charming guy in the movies. He always seemed so relaxed and easy going, I guess it was all for show all for the camera. We don't get to know what happens when he is home all by himself, the emotions that run through him on a daily basis. I think the thing with suicide is that it ends your chances of your life getting better at all, you just pass on all that sorrow and sadness to the ones around you. I guess the hard thing to understand about depression is that it just takes over you, and sometimes you have no control. Your a whole new person. Depression drains the life out of you, you dwell over the meaningless of life, and ask yourself what difference does it make if you do kill yourself. The concept of depression is very hard to understand for those who have not been there, a lot of people just says things like 'Oh just get over it' ' Why you being sad for cheer up' 'Why are you doing this to yourself, thats very stupid of you' and hence that just makes it harder to open up. This is why people end of relying on drugs and alcohol as it gives them a chance to escape reality for a little bit, and from their it just goes downhill. In a money driven world where people strive to be capitalists, life gets very busy. People seem to be more distant and hence our feelings and emotions can be overlooked sometimes. Or maybe all the time.

“When you're young and healthy you can plan on Monday to commit suicide, and by Wednesday you're laughing again.” 
― Marilyn Monroe

Monday, 17 June 2013

The Internship

The Internships is one the funniest movies I have seen in a while. Two salesmen partners who just lost their jobs dive deep in the dark whole of unemployment, taking their chances by lying their way through the Google interview to get a Internship. After that they had to go through many hardships since they knew nothing about computers, but their bond got them through all of it. At the end they landed the job, man being optimistic does pay through. If only life always ended with a happy ending, just like in the movies

Friday, 14 June 2013

Letter to future self

So I decided to watch some episodes of  the old How I Meant Your Mother on my study break remembering how good they were. I came across the episode of where Marshall writes a letter for himself for the future. It made my want to write one, I decided to scout the internet so see what other people wrote about. I came across this post where this lady finds the letter she wrote to herself when she was 17, she is now 27 in present time. It made me think about a lot of things.

At 17, I never thought my life would turn out like this

One woman reflects on things #10yrslater

I stumbled into my cluttered shoebox of a studio apartment in Hollywood at about midnight—earlier than I’d planned to get home, but after what had seemed like the longest day ever—and looked down at my stack of mail. Sticking out from under the usual late notices, unpaid bills and rhinestone-studded wedding invitations was a large manila envelope.

As I held it, my thumbs caressing my handwritten name, I recognized the scrawl of a lefty trying so hard to keep her letters in the lines; the subtle restraint in the penmanship of a woman who wished her writing looked sophisticated instead of mirroring her unkempt nature. I recognized it because it was mine.
In my senior year of high school, our teachers had asked us to write a letter to ourselves, to be opened 10 years later. Who did we wish to be at age 27? If we could say anything in the world to our future selves, what would it be?


Ten years later, my letter was back in my hands, forwarded by my parents, who have lived in the same house since before I was born. I sank into the depths of my seafoam green couch, purchased for $100 from Craigslist, and let out a huge sigh.
The letter felt like an omen, especially after the day I’d had. While I was training my last pilates student of the evening, a Beverly Hills fake-breasted type, she said she was worried about me after noticing I’d gained some weight—just as I was preparing to change into the very tight LBD I had brought to wear on my date that night. As much as I wanted to let her have it, I nodded in agreement, afraid that otherwise I might lose her business.


The downward spiral continued on the date itself, when the man I’d been seeing almost daily for two months confessed that he was getting back together with his wife. I hadn’t known he had a wife, let alone that he was contemplating getting back together with her. Maybe I should have been suspicious when he never invited me over to his house. What guy ever let a “lack of furniture” stop him from getting some action? Knowing the truth made me feel like such a fool. I’d really been falling for him, and now he was the latest in a string of assholes I’d worked too hard to impress.


As I tore open the envelope, part of me hoped it would contain some nugget of insight into my inner self that would pull me out of the cycle of disappointment I couldn’t seem to escape, something to trigger me into action toward a better life. Maybe I’d remember that I’d always wanted to become something fabulous, like a doctor—I might even find a line warning me about married men and the spotty paychecks of pilates instructors.


Not a chance. Instead, as I read, it became clear that the younger me had been certain that by now I’d be married to the love of my life, would have several adorable, well-behaved children and, most important, would be filthy rich. All very amusing, but as I got to the end of the letter, my amusement quickly faded:


I know you are going to be reading this 10 years from now…. I am so insecure about myself…. I hope 10 years from now I am really proud of myself, because I am not proud of myself now…. Love yourself, respect yourself, stand up for yourself and don’t let people push you around because I let people do it to me now. Please, please, I hope I am secure and self-assured 10 years from now.

I reread this part over and over. I put the letter down and then came back to the same paragraph five minutes later. At first, I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me. I mean, in a way I didn’t even know who this girl was, didn’t connect with the letter at all. These were the decade-old musings of a child too young to vote!
But I kept seeing that word please. And I could hear my own voice saying it over and over, louder and louder, as though I were begging. And then it struck me: My problem was not that my guy turned out to be married, or that my apartment was a disaster, or that my snobby client had pointed out the extra pounds I was carrying on my midsection.


It was that, in the 10 years after I’d begged myself to learn to treat myself with respect, I still hadn’t done it. When my date told me about his wife, I nodded and thanked him (thanked him!) for his honesty, when I probably should have kicked him in the balls. Sort of like how I should have told my client to mind her own business and focus on improving her own body, not mine. My 17-year-old self suddenly seemed so much wiser than the self I was at 27, and I felt ashamed that after a whole decade I still hadn’t figured out how to stand up for myself.


As soon as I had this thought, my next impulse was to prove that I was more self-assured—that I had changed. Well, to be honest, my very next impulse was to call my date and tell him how stupid he was, how amazing I was and exactly where to shove it. But I stopped myself: Years of dating had taught me the difference between getting revenge and seeming pathetic. Maybe I had changed a little.
Instead, I spent hours staring at the open letter from the other side of the room, thinking about all the times I’d felt unworthy and beaten myself up instead of forgiving myself. I stood in front of the mirror, trying to cry. But the crazy thing was that as each hour passed, with memories of self-loathing blasting through my mind, as much as I tried to feel bad for myself, I couldn’t. The tears wouldn’t come.

Slowly, it became clear that even though the letter was only a few feet away, the space between us was really 10 years of a life that, like my cursive writing, was messy and unkempt but wholeheartedly mine. No, I wasn’t where I thought I’d be when I wrote to myself at 17: I lived alone, single and childless (and not in a mansion); I was financially unstable; and I’d probably had too much to drink. But I knew that this was where I was meant to be: just as I am, with 10 years of perfectly imperfect moments behind me. Like dinner parties with my best girlfriends, lit by candles so you couldn’t see the stains on the tablecloth, and finding holes in the seat of my yoga pants after a day of showing clients how to transform their bodies—while showing them my underwear.


And that night, the imperfect—OK, far from perfect—moments came with a lesson, one of those hit-you-over-the-head-write-it-down-and-send-it-to-yourself-10-years-from-now-so-you-don’t-forget kind of lessons. The lesson that 10 years is an arbitrary number, and to have expectations about where you should be in your life at any particular time is soul suicide. That certain fears—of being alone or unsuccessful—might never go away, and that’s OK, because they can be the very things that drive you forward. That happiness might be found quietly resting in a tiny shoebox of an apartment, where you realize that even though life might not be quite what you expected, it’s still pretty great.

I think the biggest lesson I took from that letter was that I do have one obligation to myself, one that my 17-year-old na├»ve self somehow knew to articulate and my 27-year-old self suddenly understood: I need to love and respect my process of self-discovery. Because it’s exactly that: a process. I should feel comfortable that my experiences are learning moments teaching me step-by-step how to love and embrace me, cellulite and all. That even if the progress is subtle, it’s there, and I’m doing the best I can. And I think—no, I know—that’s something to be proud of.


I wondered for a moment what my 17-year-old self would think if she could see me now. I assumed she would convince me to get rid of the hideous green couch, put a new one on the credit card and pay it off later. I bet she would like my haircolor and think pilates was awesome. I guessed she might like me, too. A lot, actually.
And if my 17-year-old self saw me now and was asked to write to me again, I imagined her letter might end with “Next time, kick him in the balls

Time is limited

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out on your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
Steve Jobs
Sometimes I just wish this can be done as easily as it has been said

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

It Just Sticks

Sometimes when I'm having a bad day, I want to distant myself from the inner monologue that I have with myself. But I have come to realise that its so hard to do so. I tell myself that I would think about the positives things but the negative monologue always comes back. I guess I have matured over the past year and the negative talking is not as bad, and I tend to get over things more faster but its just so difficult to do so sometimes. Its like when you are in a situation where you laugh at something serious when you are not meant to, or when you feeling like crying when you don't want to. I thought you have control over your emotions, but sometimes some words just hit all the right buttons, and all the emotions just flow out.

Friday, 7 June 2013

Died so young

So today I found about a guy that died who was in the same grade as me. Even though I don't know the person I still cringed and felt really stiff on the inside, I don't know maybe it was due that we were the same age which created a connection. Made the think again about how precious life is that person had so much ahead of him. From what I heard he died from car accident, crashing into a gate. Even though we can never know when we  are going to die, we can always minimize the risks. Don't speed, stay safe.

Thursday, 6 June 2013

Volunteering at a hospital Trichotillomania Emotions

So the other day I went volunteering at a hospital in a children's mental ward. Some seem very happy to see me, some seemed so lost, and some were just really really anxious. I played plant vs zombies, table tennis, wii, made sandwiches, solved 1000 piece puzzles with most of them. Some of them were having a great time always smiling, whilst others were constantly looking at the ground. The nurse even got them to talk about their feelings if they wanted to. There was this one particular girl that I felt really sorry for, her name was Sarah. She was 16 years of age and has this rare disorder called Trichotillomania. Its a disorder where you are constantly pulling your hair out and have no control over it. She describes it as if its like an addiction, how she is always fiddling with her hair pulling it off. Sometimes she even goes crazy with it, pulling it out frantically saying that it gives her some relief when she is really sad, down or stressed. But its an ever lasting cycle pulling out her hair is like a coping mechanism then, only to make her feel more depressed later on. She has so many bald patches that she has to shave her had off. People around her are always saying 'Why are you doing this to yourself ' ' You are so stupid get some control over your life' ' Do you have cancer or something?' ' You know your only making yourself uglier right ' ' Stop being an attention seeker ! ' She told me that there was many times when she felt like committing suicide, the only thing I could tell her is that the pain her parents will have to endure for the rest of their lives if she committed the act, how precious life is, and the wonderful things to experience in life when you get the chance to. I told her about the thousands of refugees out there that have to go through many hardships and excruciating pain at times to escape persecution and find a better way of life because to them life is precious.   She also told me how she really wanted a boyfriend. I just told her that in life whenever we feeling really down, we always want to have a partner to fill that void. But if your in a relationship were and you unhappy with yourself, don't accept who you, that as a result is going to have an adverse affect on the relationship. I hope I told her the right thing.

We go through a roller coaster of emotions every day. Our moods are constantly changing from time to time. We could be both happy and sad for no reason. At times we could look in the mirror and say darn I look good today, others days you could feel discontent about how you look. Some days we hate the life we are living, other days you feel lucky to have the life you have.  Before I thought you could control your emotions, but I’m starting to realize that emotions arise subjectively without you making a conscious effort.

Let say someone insulted you and you feel your blood pressure rise. For a minute, as your body floods with resentment, your chance of staying calm is slim. You take a deep breath. Turning away expressionless, you muster all the spiritual benevolence you can, and for once you don't counter-attack. You say something impressively forgiving and dignified.
Hard do you eh, I guess it just comes down to how you interpret and respond to the situation,  your emotions control you when you assume there's only one way to react, but you always have a choice. Make the right one.
Sometimes though its due to the negative core beliefs about oneself. There are people who think of themselves not highly enough. Their self-esteem is essentially in the gutter, and their emotions are the result of not being able to love themselves adequately.


Sometimes you just have to change your perspective on life. 

The guide to 'How to not give a fuck' http://inoveryourhead.net/the-complete-guide-to-not-giving-a-fuck/


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