Plants are amazing.
They thrive anywhere, even though sometimes soil is nowhere to be found. One way or another, they weasel their way through cracks in concrete, patches of dry sand, rocks by the path and water in swamps.
Tonight, I went to this plant stall at a pasar malam with my Love. I'd been wanting to buy some fertilizer of some sort for my little sprouts (Papaya and some unknown plant), because all babies need their nutrients. I saw some little bottles and bags of fertilizer, and asked about them. The auntie told me how much to give, after asking me about the type of plants I have.
Then, she joked,
"Remember to give its neighbour some fertilizer as well or it will be jealous!"
-----
I'm letting my hair grow.
I don't really know who I am anymore. I came into Poly, so sure of myself and who I want to be. So sure that I wanted to wear short hair and crazy hairclips and dresses and jumpers and cargo-pants. So sure that I could study for 6 days a week, 2 hours a day, and get a 4.0 GPA.
It's back to having long hair then, but I won't wear it like a loser. Back in secondary school, I couldn't really do much with long straight black hair, after all, there were rules to abide by. I had no imagination whatsoever, so my hair was mostly in a ponytail, neat and proper.
After May 16th, I started to explore more styles, like plaiting and using more rubberbands and having bangs.
Until I got tired of everything and chopped it off in 2007.
Then, came the butterflies and flower clips and hand-painted hairbands and wooden candycane-clips. It was fun having short hair, it still is, but somehow I keep feeling this pressure, like I'm missing out on something. It's like I'm not girly enough or something. I can't even wear cargo-pants without looking like a little boy.
It's not fair.
They thrive anywhere, even though sometimes soil is nowhere to be found. One way or another, they weasel their way through cracks in concrete, patches of dry sand, rocks by the path and water in swamps.
Tonight, I went to this plant stall at a pasar malam with my Love. I'd been wanting to buy some fertilizer of some sort for my little sprouts (Papaya and some unknown plant), because all babies need their nutrients. I saw some little bottles and bags of fertilizer, and asked about them. The auntie told me how much to give, after asking me about the type of plants I have.
Then, she joked,
"Remember to give its neighbour some fertilizer as well or it will be jealous!"
-----
I'm letting my hair grow.
I don't really know who I am anymore. I came into Poly, so sure of myself and who I want to be. So sure that I wanted to wear short hair and crazy hairclips and dresses and jumpers and cargo-pants. So sure that I could study for 6 days a week, 2 hours a day, and get a 4.0 GPA.
It's back to having long hair then, but I won't wear it like a loser. Back in secondary school, I couldn't really do much with long straight black hair, after all, there were rules to abide by. I had no imagination whatsoever, so my hair was mostly in a ponytail, neat and proper.
After May 16th, I started to explore more styles, like plaiting and using more rubberbands and having bangs.
Until I got tired of everything and chopped it off in 2007.
Then, came the butterflies and flower clips and hand-painted hairbands and wooden candycane-clips. It was fun having short hair, it still is, but somehow I keep feeling this pressure, like I'm missing out on something. It's like I'm not girly enough or something. I can't even wear cargo-pants without looking like a little boy.
It's not fair.
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