My suspect friend kicked me off to a dreamy weekend. I've forgetten how to dream. Singapore's pragmatism and kiasu-ism have gounded my feet so firmly to practicality and down-to-earth security that I stopped dreaming.
But now I'm coming back. Yes, I so love food. I'm always snapping photos of food. It doesn't matter if it's your typical hokkien mee or the atas lobster on the big platter. I'm still gonna take the pic and post it up and share the joy. (okie... my old lappy's gone & the pics are not up & I aint doing much blogging ever since who knows when.)
And yes, I so love artsy fartsy stuff. I think I wanted to open a paper shop like Prints.
Yes I write. I wanna do food writing.
I think Martin Yan is cool. He has a masters in food science! (And I have an A levels chapter in Food chemistry...)
And moving on... I'd want to study mass communications. And write. And travel. And eat. And write. And cook too. And that's life!!!
Here's five cents worth of simple plainwords. The little things that didnt make it to speech, the little fleeting moments of sensitiveness to my subconscious self, the little struggles in between the lines and all the bits and pieces I want to remember.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Hiatus does brain cells no good.
I'm back from outter space. And the blogging hiatus certainly does my brain no good. Especially my spelling. And grammar. And vocabulary... and whatever makes up the english language.
My ex-lappy's spoilt keyboard and the humdrum of work dulled my brain plenty. It's not that my work isn't exciting, it's just not creative.
If there's one point which one of my suspect buddies hammered home today, it's that you may not be good at what you like, but you can get better at it. That beats doing what you are okie with (or don't really like for that matter) and get better at it.
I'm mildly claustrophic when it comes to jobs that gives no room for creativity. Yea, you get comfortable in that small space because you're gonna acquaint yourself with every mundane inch well enough. But you don't expand. And your brains conform to that little space. And it gets packed and shaped and confined into a hard mould. All that moulding is going to make you think you can't expand anymore, and that you fit perfectly fine into that small space. That marks the death of creativity.
My ex-lappy's spoilt keyboard and the humdrum of work dulled my brain plenty. It's not that my work isn't exciting, it's just not creative.
If there's one point which one of my suspect buddies hammered home today, it's that you may not be good at what you like, but you can get better at it. That beats doing what you are okie with (or don't really like for that matter) and get better at it.
I'm mildly claustrophic when it comes to jobs that gives no room for creativity. Yea, you get comfortable in that small space because you're gonna acquaint yourself with every mundane inch well enough. But you don't expand. And your brains conform to that little space. And it gets packed and shaped and confined into a hard mould. All that moulding is going to make you think you can't expand anymore, and that you fit perfectly fine into that small space. That marks the death of creativity.
I need some room to get my brains working. And I'll be happy when the creative juices start flowing again.
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