I don’t know if there’s a word for how I feel. Love seems much too mild. This feeling is too strong, wild, potent and forceful. Too metal. I imagine this is how serial killers feel when they’re locked in on a target, how a heart attack feels when it yanks your breath away, how Christians feel when they’re feeling God-like power touch them.
This is the feeling I get sometimes when I’m just this fiercely obsessed about something. Almost…angry? I don’t know why. It’s the aggressive urge you get when you see an obscenely cute puppy and you just want to squeeze it to death.
This is how I’m currently feeling about Extreme’s music. The genius lyrics, melody, harmony, vocals and awesome musicality. From an era where musicians wrote magic because there were just no rules about what makes a hit song.
Obsessed with the entire Pornograffiti album. Start with these: Hole Hearted. Decadence Dance. Get the Funk Out. Play with Me. I’d list the entire album if you’d let me, but only because I wish you knew there’s so much more to Extreme than More than Words, even if it is a great song (made more amazing by Nuno’s harmony and Paul Gilbert in this video).
The not-having-kids thing. The i-want-to-move-out thing. Maybe it’s just something about the circle of life that creates a desire to be surrounded by living things. Millennial things.
I’ve always wanted to get some cacti and succulents in my visits to Bangkok but I’ve always been to afraid to even think about transporting them back to Singapore by plane. Turned out to be a lot easier than I thought, because all I needed to do was to open my mouth and ask the vendor at Chatuchak, who promptly said that he could pack it for me. Easy.
I also bought a ton of beautiful fake orchids, which are now laid out around the house. Am I becoming a plant lady? Okay then.
Three years ago I went to Japan to watch Mr Big live in concert with Clif, major Mr Big and Paul Gilbert fanboy.
I knew 3 songs at that concert.
The first non-Wild World/To Be With You/Just Take My Heart song I really enjoyed was Green Tinted Sixties Mind, which I heard over the speakers as “365”. We were in the corner seats near the stage and the speakers were muffled. Very confusing.
Me (after concert): I like that song! 365.
Me: 365! It goes like *hums tune* THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FIVEEEEEE.
Clif: There’s no song like that.
Also got hooked onto Queen, and Extreme. Now feeling sad I missed a whole era of music and concerts.
But I’ve since been to two other Mr Big shows, added a lot more songs to playlist and learnt more about their career by reading old interviews.
So it was sad to learn that Pat Torpey died today.
And it was sad to think of how underrated they are. So here’s a nice, pretty radio friendly song about the peak of their career. Enjoy.
4 more minutes to the end of A Year in the Life and I’m feeling a bit weird. It’s just weird. The final reveal – the secret last four words Amy-Sherman Palladino has for the series. And this wasn’t a big deal to me earlier this week when I was thinking about it. It’s just four words. It could be utterly mundane and unimportant. It could be predictable and cheesy. It didn’t really matter to me when I was thinking about it before, they’re just words.
But now, so close to the end, I feel a bit jittery and I’ve paused the episode just to think about why I feel this way, and maybe to make the moment last longer. To extend the experience a little bit more. To be completely unenlightened and uninformed.
I have so many comments about these four episodes, and not all of them good, but it’s been tickling my memory center and feeding the nostalgia beast so I’m going to overlook all the odd and exaggerated acting.
Okay. I’ve dragged this out for 10 minutes now. Time to say goodbye.
The bright lights not forced upon me
Gentle glitter outside my window
The sound of stillness all around me
My silent thoughts now finding flow
Imperfections become small matter
Life is easier when you don’t see me.
An alarm goes off, it’s starting
A flurry, for coffee, it’s morning
The pressure of life, and living
Moving, climbing, the clock is ticking
I carry the weight of the day.
I remember being so in love with books when I was younger that I’d hide under my blanket covers to read.
Fairytales and Sweet Valley Twins, Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew.
I loved stories about Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield. Having a twin sister sounded like the best thing ever, a best friend I could depend on.
My brain doesn’t hold many memories of my childhood, but one good memory I have is one of my brother bringing me to the large Borders bookstore at Wheelock and then telling me to pick one book as a Christmas gift.
I was spoilt for choice.
Sweet Valley Twins – Big for Christmas
The one I finally picked was Christmas themed, to go along with the spirit of the December season.
I must have read this about twenty times (or more).
You might also be surprised to find out that I still have this book with me.
I realise now that it’s not the coolest thing to talk about, but I was never exposed to Roald Dahl. I think I was probably turned off by the illustration style on the Roald Dahl books, which would have been unappealing to me as a kid.
And as much as I’d like to think I was a bookworm, I was never the Rory Gilmore-type who’d read Moby Dick or Pride and Prejudice.
And thus begins a new type of sharing, that is in no way original, but the first of its kind on this blog – what I’m obsessed about this week. Let’s see if I’ll regret these things in the next ten years like I regret 90’s baggy jeans. Jumping right into it…
…I’m currently infatuated with ❤vintage bags
I’ve been telling myself not to be such an easy victim of consumerism and get too materialistic, but vintage Chanel bags are so classic looking and just so intriguing.
I mean, the things that these bags have seen – there needs to be a short film on vimeo around this, amiright? Plus the thought that these pieces can get pretty rare (depending on design), gives me crazy, grandiose dreams of what a unique human being I am. I know, it’s mad.
But look at how beautiful it is!
Is it not the most exquisite Chanel bag you’ve ever seen? Can you believe I have one of these babies in my possession? I got it last year for less than a thousand bucks (thanks Carousell!).
Sadly, it’s not seen much of the outside world due to my lack of participation in cultured activities that allow teeny tiny purses.
I mean..since I’m running around all day with my laptop and gym gear, it only makes sense for me to carry a bagpack these days.
So, maybe creating watchlists of bags on eBay may just be a dormant hobby for now. But I make no promises – there’s still one more Tiffany & Co. vintage bag I’ve been dreaming of.
Funny thing is, I can imagine a younger version of me looking at a these bags and wondering what the big deal is. Black quilted bags? For how much? And you’re saying they’re second-hand? Siao.