Merry Christmas Eve to all,

Let us sit around and cuddle around this warm virtual fire. 



I'd like to dedicate this blog to my mum and to all of you out there who underestimate yourself by thinking they're not good enough.

My mum is what you would think a typical Filipina in Hong Kong. She luckily married a westerner and gave birth to the most amazing human being you'll ever meet. (Me.) However that doesn't mean she had it easy from the beginning or had it any easier after she married a "gwai lo". My mum certainly does not live off my dad nor does she flash Louis Vuittons in IFC on a Tuesday afternoon to go yum cha with her other Filipina mates who were just as lucky. 
We're not well off like most westerners are in Hong Kong.
 There were and still are struggles, financially and emotionally. 

It infuriates me when people have the impression that Filipinas leave the Philippines to find a rich man to marry and conveniently support their family through his bank account.
I don't know the exact percentage of how many do that... but I hope it's a small amount. 
With hidden stories untold, judgements should be put on hold. 

My families stories will remain hidden for now. Nevertheless, there is one story I would like to share. 
My mother was born into a poor but huge family of tweleve and she was one of the eldest. Basically she had to give up her own education for her younger siblings so that she could work in factories and sell coconut shells in order to support them through the years of school. For years now she has held a Primary 6 education level searching and aquiring work. Not once has she given up, yes she has worked as a maid for lovely families who treated her with respect and as a part of their family. My mum has also worked at banks, shops and partnered in businesses. She had her own shop and eventually settled down working as a care worker at a non-profit organization for mentally challenged children. My mother has shown impenetrable loyalty and true leadership in this small but significant role she played within the group. 

A couple of days ago, my mum was promoted to management and I am so proud of her. 
All the 5 A.M alarms and late dinners were all worth it. 
I know she still finds it hard to believe that she has made it this far. She knows challenges will come more difficult to her now than ever but I couldn't have more faith in her than I do now. 

Education isn't everything. 
Nor does it provide any justification on how well or bad your future will turn out to be. 
Believe me. 
Persist in your pursuits and don't doubt a single move you put your mind to. 

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year.




Flash back Mondays

Let's all pay tribute to my earlier years. 
Mondays are no longer ordinary Mondays, oh no no no. 

Let's take a trip down good ol' muddy memory lane to 2009. 
What did I do back in 2009, Dec 3rd? I took vain pictures of myself. 
A very productive 18 year old. 

I miss my short hair. 

Now, what does this tell me? That time is a bitch and doesn't wait for people. She just allowed me do whatever I wanted and never once told me to hold back. Me, on the other hand didn't realize that time was with me all along and so many a time opportunities, responsibilities and time slipped past me. Leaving the future to future me to deal with. Present 18 year old me, would just procrastinate. 
To be honest, I truly thought I would be loads different by the time I hit 21. 

You know when you're were 15, 
chilling alone in your room late at night thinking about the future you? 
I would picture it and think it impossible I'd ever get to mature stage in life. 
Just thinking about the 21 year old me was like... thinking about a stranger I didn't know. 
So unfamiliar, so distant. 
It was as if I was waiting to see what she'd do and be astonished by her many achievements. 

That 21 year old future me is no longer a stranger. I know everything about her. Her likes, dislikes and what she hopes for to come. And now I'm sitting alone, in my room thinking about what 25... maybe 30 year old me would be doing.

Man, I know future me is going to read this and laugh.
Well, fuck you future me. Fuck you. 



Permanent Ink

What does having a tattoo represent exactly? 

I don't have one. Yet. 
However I feel like tattoo's are very misunderstood. 
My mother has some strong opinions about this topic herself and so does my dad. For years have I heard my dad lecture me on how tattoo's are for the brainless who have no talent but have the need to show off. It wasn't till recently did I find the best reaction for his statement. "But what if the tattoo isn't anywhere visible?" BAM. No quick reply from dad there. I totally one handedly flipped his opinion on tattoos. It's true though, right? Steve Jobs could of had a tattoo on his ass and you wouldn't know. Yeah if he told interviewers voluntarily then yes, he wanted to brag. Mum on the other hand likes to ask people with tattoo's this question: "What does your mother think about you having all these tattoos?" A question very crucial to her judgement on tattoos. 

A few weeks back I had the weirdest conversation with someone about tattoos and it infuriated me. Never have I ever been so pissed off at someone's personal opinions. Yes, you are entitled to it but it crossed my line and it gave me that rush of desire and rebellion to get it just to softly imply "this is what I think of your opinion. So there, shut up and live your narrow minded life."
 The emotion within me was so strong that I finally realized the reason why people went out and got a tattoo. It was to prove and proclaim the freedom you had with your own skin, to do whatever the hell you wanted because it was yours and that others had no control over you.

 It was a gesture of free choice. 

I exclaimed my excitement to my partner and she was like
 "Did you not know that in the first place?"

Maybe it wasn't as obvious to someone like me who never really thought of getting a tattoo. I accepted those who had them and I saw no fault in wanting to get meaningful tattoos. Of course, there is a limit but yet again it is your choice. 

Who is to say you are forbidden to do what you want with your body? If you make a mistake, it's nobody's business but yours. 

The only advice I would give to those preparing to get inked, is to think about it, give it a few months or one year and if by then you still want it, by all means get it. 

Happy inking!


The very best of fuzzy


If you do not intend to pay money to go watch this film, 
then please never return to this blog ever again. 


I just watched it today, and boy, i regret nothing. 
No spoilers as I'll just try to describe to you with not much detail on how amazing this film is so you'll go watch it and then you may come back here and prove me right. This film has Yeti's and elves, eggs with legs and baby teeth flying all over the place! Please, everyone, contain your immature excitement.  No, it's okay, I'M JUST KIDDING. PLEASE SHARE MY JOY. 
It has been a very, very long time since I've watched an animated film and have that warm fuzzy feeling inside. The very best of fuzzy. 

The film is basically about the big four, Santa who is now Russian and has a cool nickname 'North', the tooth fairy 'Toothania' who is half human half hummingbird, the easter rabbit 'Bunnymund' that has an Australian accent and an attitude to go with and last but not least the Sandman, 'Sandy' who is mute but compensates this by being so out-of-this-world adorable. Of course, there is Jack Frost the lead and bad guy Pitch Black aka The Boogie Man (who I dislike very much due to my hatred towards the dark) Animated films these days have got to have the cute 'minions' like those in Despicable Me, and trust me ROTG does not disappoint.  

That fuzzy feeling I mentioned is such a rare emotion to have. The Rise Of The Guardians seems to be answering all my childhood questions that Disney had yet to satisfy me over the years. So well done DreamWorks! Santa was cool and fit, not the chubby red cheeked we grew up with. HE HAS SLEEVE TATTOOS ON BOTH ARMS AS HIS NAUGHTY & NICE LIST FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. It's everything but conventional and it blows my mind. 

 (he's so bad ass I think I need to watch it again tomorrow)

These radical changes turned my world upside down, such new perspectives were exactly what I have been looking for in these myths and legends. I truly do not understand those who refuse to watch animated movies and I don't think I ever will. I pity those who can no long enjoy a film because it's animated. What difference does it make? Be a kid again, don't get so caught up with being mature and all grown up. Guurrrll, please. How long has it been since you lit up that tiny remaining spark of your imagination? I think it is absolutely crucial to keep the child inside of you alive. To be honest, I'm not really sure why myself. At least, keep him/her alive so that you can go watch a movie like ROTG and escape reality to fantasy even just for a couple hours. There might be tears, or there might be people in denial from all the cuteness going on and there may possibly... most likely be a lot of bliss. Pure, beautiful bliss. 

If this movie doesn't send you home smiling, I don't know what will. 

on a side note, I just made YouTube partner. HOLLA!


The young & the hopeless

12 days till 21

Had my regular stroll down the lanes of HMV the other day and decided to pick out a few more birthday presents for myself. 

Since I was 17, I always wanted to buy the whole album set of Simple Plan and Good Charlotte but back then I was teaching English, making $100HKD an hour didn't seem worth spending on a few CDs. Four years later, now my present, I had no more excuses not to buy them. It was about time to reflect on the past 10 years of my life. And to be honest, not much has changed since I was 12.

These bands were and still are my best friends. They were right there with me throughout the countless of pathetic breakups, pointless crushes and teenage angst disasters. Awake at 3 in the morning, chin resting on my knees as I bawled out the tears and screamed into a pillow as Joel and Pierre would serenade me to sleep.

God, you should have seen me at Simple Plan's concert here in Hong Kong back in January. (or maybe you should be glad you didn't) It was BRUTAL. I got to AsiaExpo at 7am and waiting till 9pm, got to the first row and cried my eyes out to Pierre, Jeff & David (cos they were the only 3 who would go to the right side of the stage where I was) And I locked my eyes to theirs as they sang out Perfect and Welcome To My Life to the millions that were crying beside me and behind me. It's been 10 years of waiting for them to come to Hong Kong so I wanted them to know how much their songs meant to me. As mascara accompanied by snot and tears streamed down my cheeks, Pierre pointed at me, gave me a wink and smiled.

Oh, the life of a 20 year old fangirl.  

Ridiculous teenage memories, back when everything was blown out of proportion. Like the time when my straightener broke and I took a day off school, refusing to go in "looking like this". Or even that time when every girl thought cutting was cool so they would show and brag about the worst of cuts. Some would carve their ex lovers name, hoping he would feel the pain she was feeling. Some cut so bad you couldn't see the colour of her skin. Of course, this girl was smart. She did it on her thigh so no one would see. And yet she still voluntarily lifted up her skirt to show us how truly hurt she was by this guy she dated for 3 months. 

I'm pretty sure all the girls who went through that stage of life have grown out of it. I hope so.
However, I'm still very much in touch with these two bands who prevented me to do anything more stupid. 

Guardians who aren't aware of my existence. 



21st countdown & a penny board

Bought myself my 21st birthday, birthday present. It seems like my subconscious is trying to hint something here. "Asha, you might be turning 21 but you go ahead and buy that toy looking board and you go scrape your knee. Get a few bruises! YOLO."

No, I don't really say yolo. I never say yolo.  

Was also reunited with family friends over the weekend. Parents were thrilled, awkward at first for us the young ones but the 3 of us got there in the end. A more than enjoyable night to say the least. The brother was, so you may say, was my womb bff's. Our mothers were inseparable and conveniently preggers around the same time. She of course, became my godmother. I'm 2 months older, and I guess me and him were inseparable for the first few years of our lives. Of course, none of my proper friendships ever lasted, so this was no exception. His family left Hong Kong and started their lives in Australia permanently. It's been nearly 10 to 15 years since I last saw any of them. 

We remember some strange chocolate milk & seaweed obsession. That they had a huge TV set, and he always, ALWAYS made me cry. I've had a couple of childhood buds who have totally no recollection of my existence. When I would talk about "the good ol' days", possibly swimming naked in their paddling pool, they'd give me an empty stare and I could just barely hear them say hiss through their eyes, "Why are you so obsessed with me?"

So I was more relieved than I was thrilled that someone finally shared my memory. That it wasn't just some only child's fantasy of having friends and having memories, she did not really have.

So I got a trip down memory lane. Oh, the joy of being 3 again. 

"Friendship" is a serious issue to me, I'm 21 and I haven't found that one person that I would call, message, skype everyday just to update or rant to. It's become so ridiculously important to me that I have even started to panic about who would be my maid of honor. YES I AM THAT LAME. Yeah sure, loads of potential mates that have been through so much crap with me, and are my dearest dearest. But it's not supposed to be that way. You don't just line them all up in front of you, put your hand over your eyes, do a twirl & point. It's supposed to be a no brainer, easy peasy, not even a question sort of situation. 

Ugh, turning 21. 


In the words of Yellowcard

"They say you don't grow up you just grow old
it's safe to say I haven't done both

So Many people close to me cut me down
This is supposed to be a bad luck town
I jumped, I fell, I hit the ground,
But here I am alive"



Last weekend till I finally become, long awaited, University student. 

Shame on me for taking nearly 2 years to get my head straight. To be honest, I don't know how long it'll stay screwed on. Might come across an incompetent lecturer or two and I'll have an excuse to drop out. Again. Yes, I have dropped out of many hobbies, subjects and some aspects of life. I just can't be able to stick to one thing. I might lurk around busy corridors or behind the classroom so the smart kid and his humongous head filled with useless knowledge hides my face. 

It's going to take lots, and I mean LOTS of self control, will power and whatnot to keep me in that campus for 4 years. Four soul sucking years. Gracing each faculty member with my radiant willing-to-learn presence. 

"I shall stay until the wind changes."


"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter & bleed."

After many a nagging from both partner and father, I finally got around to watch Midnight In Paris, written & directed by the awkward yet ingenious Woody Allen. Dad's been a fan ever since I was old enough to remember watching Woody Allen films with him. I was expecting the expected. The same ol', same ol' enjoyment, freshness and originality. I keep trying to lie to myself, to convince myself that his films and his brillance are all equally overrated. 

It was just a big fat lie. It was nothing short of perfection. 

Each scene into the story tickled my fancy, maybe it's because I'm aspiring to be some form of writer. Every mention of histories greatest, a squeak escaped my throat. Basking in the ambience of such heroes. But who was I kidding? Out of the dozen artists and authors mentioned, I knew only a handful. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, Gertrude Stein. Yes, I've heard of them, walked by them, possibly read a few paragraphs. I'm sure by now you've established the fact that I am not the most cultural of people. I don't understand much of the abstract paintings hung on marble museum walls, or read many of the dusty books stacked neatly in the literature shelves of lifeless libraries. But hey, my jaw still dropped in a brief awe as I watched each literature reference being introduced in Midnight In Paris. I didn't turn to my father asking, "Who's Hemingway?" So there still might be some hope for me. I am not a complete, literature wannabe loser.  

3 quotes from this movie got me thinking. 

"I would like you to read my novel & get your opinion." - Gill

To conclude, writers will hate all writing except their own. 

Perhaps to be fair, I hate writing that is similar to mine. If we have different styles, sure, feel free, go ahead, write away dear fellow. 

All these quotes just brought back so many memories of my English Literature class back in Bournemouth. It was the year I finally took on Eng Lit as a class, seeing as I never had the chance studying in a local Chinese school. How I got into Literature is a whole other story that I must leave for future blogging material. So basically, there was a girl who, let's just say, we had a mutual unspoken battle between each other. Some of my writing coursework made our professor laugh out loud in front of the whole class, this class containing less than 10 that decreased by the week. He would chuckle his British chuckle, saying "This is brilliant." Gloating in my own little world, I could feel the words Challenge Accepted being thrown across the classroom and hit me on the head. It would then be her turn, and he'd mutter an equally annoying compliment, and I would be sending dagger death threats via brainwaves. 

A brutal battlefield. 

In a nutshell. 


stop, stare & drool

Men I find utterly & irrevocably attractive, 
who most definitely make me go "humanahumana" : 


      Aaron Johnson/Andrew Garfield/Josh Hutcherson/Jay Baruchel/
Jude Law/Shia Labeouf/Leonardo Dicaprio/(Chandler Bing)


Women I find painfully breathtaking & are hot as hell, 
who constantly lure me to bat for the their team : 



Kate Moennig/Rooney Mara/Lindsay Lohan/Helena Bohem Carter/
Christina Ricci/Winona Ryder/Carey Mulligan/Alicia Silverstone/
Elizabeth Hurley/Kirsten Stewart/Natalie Portman/Drew Barrymore


*updated 20 Aug


back to blogs

Why hello Internet,

I forgot I could use you to do useful things. Sick and tired am I of social networking, of updating my memory space with lunch pictures on Instagram and cats. Especially, cats. I'm back to blogging.

Can't forget my writing roots. Till this day I still regret deleting a manuscript of a book on my PC which I wrote when I was only 9 or 10. Nearly 20 chapters long, I reread it when I was 14 and thought it was utter crap and decided to do the mature thing any self assured 14 year old would do and erased it from my history.

"No longer shall this childish story embarrass me! AH HA!"

What an idiot.

I'm 20 now, let's try again.

Okay then.