a ring is round and has no end...

Every year, I would receive a Christmas card from a certain someone. He had a family business, and while sending out cards to his clients, he would also include me. He continued to send me Christmas cards even though we weren't special to each other anymore. That went on for several years, and I wondered when his customary gesture would eventually phase out.

I didn't receive a card from him in 2006. A big part of me knew that it had to end sooner or later, as we were no longer in each other's lives, but I was disappointed nonetheless. Even though I expected our ritual to end someday, I felt that Christmas 2006 was not the day. I was curious as to why my mailbox remained empty and after a few sleepless nights, I made contact and discovered that the card was addressed to the wrong house number. I didn't end up going to my neighbour's house to check if they had my card. The physical card itself was insignificant; the knowledge of it being sent to me delivered enough contentment, and that piece of assurance made my Christmas a little merrier.

Christmas is only three days away. Like every other year, I hope to receive a card from him, but the only difference is—I’m not expecting it this year. Over time, my expectations have been set to a lower standard. When you’re no longer close to a person, your old habits and perks evaporate like the friendship that once was.

Time is an interesting concept—it is unstoppable, irreversible, and a generous tool to heal all wounds. I used to hold onto my fond memories and made an effort to journal my life regularly. I kept every personal letter, email, and even every funny post-it note that was ever written to me. Good memories tend to linger on, hanging in the air like the delicious smell of baked cookies after a festive tea party; but they can choke you harder than the bad memories.

It's funny how I don't hold the same sentiment towards ex-boyfriends as I do with friends. I only have ex-best friend issues. When reminiscing about my former friends, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, an awful sinking feeling that weighs my spirit down and drowns me in my own pool of nostalgia. Forgetting is only hard when you don't want to. This empty disposition comes and goes as I mourn over my broken friendships, the dead links in my life, and ultimately let them rest in peace.

tree house

When I was little, I imagined what having my own family would be like. I wanted to live on a farm, inspired by Charlotte's Web, where I wouldn't be disturbed by anyone other than my husband, of course. I would collect eggs every morning to make breakfast and talk to the animals when I was annoyed at my husband. My husband and I would have a giant tree house in our backyard.

Now, at 25, I no longer want to live on a farm, but I still want my own tree house—a place where I can seek refuge from modern life.

god's gifts

One thing I’ve noticed about some godly women is their conservative dress sense. It's great that they’re comfortable with themselves and dress down (I'm guessing they don’t pluck their eyebrows either) because their main focus is serving God. These down-to-earth women know vanity isn’t exactly a heavenly virtue.

A friend of mine (I won't name any names, but let's just say Justin Yoon) once pointed out that God never said it’s wrong to look good. Ergo, Justin is all for any girl who wants to glam up, as long as she doesn’t turn her beauty into a stumbling block.

A girl’s immaculate appearance doesn’t necessarily reflect her godliness. Only God can see what’s in her heart. Whether she’s dolled up or dressed down, it’s her inner self that counts. Sometimes, I find myself getting caught up in the earthly affairs of eyeliner and lip gloss, doubting my own godliness based on my mirror time. I have to remind myself that no matter how much mascara I apply, I’m still a work of Christ. God created me to glorify Him, not the mirror.

We should be mindful of how much attention we pay to our looks versus how much attention we pay to God. There’s a fine line between taking pride in your appearance and being self-absorbed. I won’t deny that I can be vain at times, but when I dress up, I’m simply celebrating the gifts God gave me.

So, the next time you see me with perfectly winged eyeliner, remember: I’m just embracing my God-given talents.

relationships

We often hold onto the hope that one day, the right person will come along, and together, we’ll glide through life together like seasoned ice skaters—flawless, effortless, and in perfect harmony. But when we inevitably stumble and fall, we can’t help but wonder why relationships, once so promising, seem so difficult. 

Some people are relationship junkies who can’t handle being single. They need someone, anyone, to avoid the dreaded abyss of loneliness. Then there are those desperate to find their soulmate, but how can you rush a soulmate? I know a girl who’s searching for a perfect 10 despite never even meeting a solid 7. She’s looking in all the wrong places and making a lot of mistakes. Maybe soulmates are overrated.

Some couples marry someone they don’t consider a soulmate, finding compatibility and growing into love. My grandparents are an example. My grandfather wasn’t attracted to my grandmother at all when they met—he was in love with someone else. But an arranged marriage forced by his father led to 60 years of togetherness. They grew to love each other through the family they built. It’s touching but lacks the fiery passion that some might crave.

Then there are the one-sided relationships. Both parties may start with good intentions, but once the honeymoon phase ends, only one is doing all the loving. It’s not that the other partner is doing anything wrong—they’re just not doing anything at all.

And let’s not forget the missed opportunities—the sliding door moments we regret not seizing. Countless friends of mine lament the one that got away, or the potential that never had a chance to blossom. Worse, it could have happened, but neither person took the leap.

Let’s indulge in a bit of hopeless romanticism. Some couples meet randomly, fall in love, and live happily ever after. It does happen.

I’m not as jaded as I might seem. I just pretend to be, because let’s face it, depressed people are more interesting and mysterious, right? It’s all a façade to give my writing some depth. I’m actually a happy-go-lucky girl without real problems—aside from the ones I create for myself.

Relationships are tough because they balance two conflicting human drives: the desire for independence and the need for connection. Many couples struggle with being either too separate or too clingy.

I once read a metaphor: We are all born into the river of life in our own boats. You can’t hop into my boat and live your life, and I can’t get into yours and live mine. Trouble arises when we try to climb into each other’s boats. We each have to paddle our own and negotiate the river’s currents. Sometimes, we may choose to paddle close together, in sync, toward a mutual destination—like marriage.

Today’s sermon on John 19:28-30 was about God’s love for us. Jesus models sacrificial love, loving others for their benefit without putting ourselves first. He showed this most when he died on the cross for us.

But we’re not God, so we struggle with our worldly affairs. Before we can perfect our relationships with each other, we should develop and maintain our relationship with God. The rest will fall into place.

one hit wonder

Adobe Dreamweaver CS3 and Fireworks CS3 training sessions are now marked in my work calendar. My colleague finds my enthusiasm for software training amusing, noting that I’m not usually one to get excited about such things. Maybe it’s the nerd inside me making a comeback after a decade-long hiatus. I miss that nerd.

This feels like being an 18-year-old trapeze artist, reminiscing about peak moments and wondering if everything is downhill from here. Knowing that my last perfect swing won’t be repeated and that my headstand routine will never again have the same flair.

Don’t tell me I’m being melodramatic; I know I am. I’m not fishing for compliments.

It’s just hard being human sometimes.

Deep down, I know I’m a unique and perfect creation of Christ, loved with a sacrificial love that envelops all the darkness in my life. But stuck in this human shell, I have days of anguish, like anyone else who dares to admit it. Lately, I've been struggling with my self-worth. Maybe it’s my successful friends to blame—most of whom are Law graduates and IT whizzes. I’m usually content with myself, but sometimes I wonder if I could be more.

Sometimes I wish my life was different. If I had studied hard and attended school and university like an obedient daughter, I might have turned out better. But the truth is, I peaked in junior high. By senior school, I was lazy, rebellious, and too stubborn to do things the proper way. With my previously impressive academic record and my innocent exterior—crisp white blouse and neat pleated skirt—I got away with skipping classes and late assignments. I figured it was okay to take shortcuts as long as the results were almost the same. I taught myself that words could take you further than works; I let my charm lead the way rather than my effort because humans are fickle and tend to play favourites.

Most days, I’m a happy girl. I appreciate my job and like my colleagues (only saying that because I know one of them has access to this blog site). I’ve been blessed with this position, even though I’m under qualified and just interviewed well. I’m thankful for my job and the positive feedback from my superiors.

But some days, I feel like a one-hit wonder.

urgency

"He is looking for a best friend he can settle down with—the girl he can call late at night and never want to hang up on. When he finally does at 6am, he drives over to pick her up and takes her somewhere for breakfast because he wants to talk to her some more."

happiness shared is the flower

I've been quite antisocial at home, and I can't really pinpoint why. My family is notoriously loud; my parents sound like they're having a screaming match even when they're just discussing dinner plans. I've always preferred soft-spoken people; they seem so kind and gentle. RD is relatively soft-spoken, and I think I've gotten used to his calm mannerisms.

Yesterday, my mum decided to lecture me about my new aloof attitude during our commute to work. I responded with a shrug, which only cranked up her frustration. She demanded an explanation, so I mumbled something in my rusty Vietnamese. She didn’t understand me, so I repeated the key words, hoping she'd decipher my cryptic speech. She was unimpressed and called me rude and disrespectful. We spent the rest of the trip in silence. When we arrived, I thanked her for the lift and she nodded.

Later, she picked me up from the station, and I was holding a big bouquet of roses and lilies. She asked casually what the flowers were for, and I told her they were for her. She smiled shyly and asked why. I said they were to apologise for my bad behaviour. When I saw her eyes getting teary, I felt a pang of guilt and confessed that the flowers were actually from work since it was my last day. In my defence, I had planned on giving the flowers to her! Whenever boys sent me flowers in the past, I'd go home and give them to my mum. She would always say, "I hope all these flowers are from the same boy." I'd reply, "No, but one day, a man will give me something that I'll keep for myself. For now, you can have all my flowers."

writer's block

Have you ever had an idea for a blog that is so brilliant, so crystal clear in your mind that you can't wait to sign on and post it? Something so refreshing that it's almost euphoric?

Well, this is not one of those.

staples

I wish I had invented staples. Now, that probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but has anybody really stopped to think about those little metal things? Staples are freaking awesome! I bet the inventor of staples didn't expect they would become an office and school essential. How cool would it be to be able to say that you are the founder of staples?

In the movie 'Romy and Michele's High School Reunion', two quirky women attend their homecoming and tell people that they created Post-it Notes. Can you believe it? Why would they try to impress the alumni with Post-it Notes when staples are obviously more incredible? I mean, staples may even be more amazing than glue. I know, it's incomprehensible, but seriously.

Staples are versatile and have multiple functions, such as holding piles of paper together and securing posters onto a wall. Surgical staples are used to close incisions after a medical procedure, but they could also serve as annoying flicking devices and even weapons. My seventh-grade English teacher threatened us on a daily basis that she would staple our lips to her bumper and drive to the next suburb. Post-it Notes could never be used as weapons since they barely stick to your computer screen, so unless you're planning to paper-cut someone to death, you wouldn’t stand a chance against an opponent armed with a staple gun.

pet names

My friend's girlfriend told me her funny pet name for him, and being the mature person that I am, I sent him an email addressing him by that name. The email led to a discussion about the pet names that couples have for each other. I've never been one to give my significant other a corny nickname. Pet names such as schnookums, honey, bunny, babe, and even bacon (?) really make me cringe. I've had previous boyfriends call me those nicknames, and I wasn't comfortable with them.

I referred to my ex-boyfriends by their first names or names that I made up because I couldn't pronounce their real names. I started to think that there was something wrong with me, so I tried calling my boyfriend "bub." It didn't work out. He told me that he didn't like the sound of it. Ah, it's always good to be in such an honest relationship. I put on my creative cap and started calling him "hey boyfriend" in my text messages. Or I'd just text him as RD. I'm relieved that we're not mushy towards each other. He throws in "baby" once in a while when he's feeling affectionate. Initially, I didn't like the pet name "baby," but it's actually alright when my boyfriend uses it. He can certainly pull it off. Yes, there's definitely no bias there.

tazzie

I’m back from a holiday that felt more like boot camp. My girlfriends and I accidentally chose the most gruelling trail to climb Cradle Mountain. Picture this: trudging through mud, leaping over puddles, rock climbing, camping in flimsy tents, and dining on gourmet canned food. If two days of bushwalking with 10kg backpacks didn’t kill us, it definitely made us stronger. We praised and thanked God for getting us through the wilderness unscathed.

The weather was freezing, and at one point, I was so tired I almost toppled off a rock. Luckily, I grabbed a branch just in time. So here I am, still alive and writing. Going downhill was a blast—I just slid down, letting gravity do its thing for the first time. Starving seemed like the worse option, so I caved. My friends swore the sweet chilli tuna was delicious, but after one hesitant bite, I concluded: NEVER AGAIN. I should’ve trusted my instincts—cold fish from a can that smells like regret is not for me. Trauma, thy name is tuna.  

This trip has fundamentally altered me. I never understood why people would bushwalk for fun, but reaching the summit of Cradle Mountain made it all clear. The reward of that view was worth every muddy, sweaty step. Nature’s beauty is divine, a stark contrast to my office. Returning today felt overwhelming. The people, the cramped cubicles, the glaring computer screens—it was all too much. The office was bustling yet felt so empty and cold. I longed for the trees, the dirt, the lakes, the crisp air, and even the scary possum Tracey and I fled from. 

It was a fantastic experience, reconnecting with the girls and having some solid fellowship. Surviving the two-day hike together bonded us like never before. I was too busy staying alive to snap photos, but the breathtaking view from the top is forever etched in my memory.

hitch

The movie Hitch introduced the idea of a ‘window of opportunity’ to make an impression on the object of your affection, suggesting you only get one shot at getting it right. I don’t believe you only get one chance, but timing is crucial.

When someone catches your eye and you want to pursue them, you proactively try to express your interest. Often, you might lose hope and stop trying because they don’t reciprocate or didn’t notice your subtle gestures. This on-and-off, proactive/non-proactive state you fall into is likely what the person you like is experiencing too. They might be interested in you as well, but both parties need to be in sync.

When I was little, I believed everyone in the world was paired with another person. Your destined partner would be connected to you by an invisible red string of fate, so no matter how far apart you were, you’d always find each other again. Sometimes I’m scared I’m mistakenly connected to someone else’s partner, and one day, the mistake will be noticed and corrected, leaving me waiting for my true other half to come along.

Dating is essentially the time you spend with someone to see if you’re compatible for marriage. Each day should bring you a step closer to determining if you’re right for each other. Maybe I’m impatient or apprehensive, but I can’t wait for the day when we BOTH know it.

procrastination

Work is really relaxing, and I can go at my own pace. I usually don't mind the laid-back environment, but I'm starting to feel that my job isn't challenging enough. I used to work at a mind-numbing job and would resort to doing word or number puzzles just to get some brain exercise, as I could feel my brain deteriorating. I think I'll die of boredom if I don't stimulate my mind. I'm always deep in thought, but occasionally, I find myself worrying about trivial things. I need to channel my thoughts to serious matters. Instead of shopping on eBay for better value, I should focus on how to save my money for the future. Instead of assessing which restaurants are fine to dine at, I should consider taking up cooking classes to prepare myself for married life someday.

I plan to make plans. I'm guilty of thinking, "there's always tomorrow." I waste too much time. Like right now, I should be catching up on my reading, but here I am, writing about how I plan to catch up on my reading. I procrastinate too often. Then there are the times when distractions get the best of me. I check emails, blog, check eBay, and surf for random stuff on the net.

Maybe I get overwhelmed too easily. I get too tired thinking about daily things. How did I handle life at 19 when I juggled two casual jobs, studied full-time, and squeezed in a social life too? When I was feeling adventurous, I also threw a love life into my busy schedule.

I feel like the less responsibility I have, the more stressed out I am over those responsibilities. I've been busying myself with personal and church commitments, but I still feel like I'm not doing enough. I was able to juggle multiple tasks in the past, but I've gone rusty and I'm not on top of my game anymore. My workday planner is rarely filled up, but just one or two errands would get me worked up. A blank page fills me with despair. I can't seem to find the right balance.

play

While attempting to clean my room, I stumbled upon my Dawson's Creek DVD box sets that I purchased when I was young (okay, fine, two years ago). This was probably the only show I followed religiously, my Thursday night fix of teen angst and verbosity. It was a love/hate relationship; I was hooked but perpetually annoyed by some of the characters.

My high school best friend and I had epic debates over the Dawson/Joey/Pacey love triangle. He was Team Pacey, and I was Team Dawson. Not because I was a Dawson fan, but probably because I was secretly in love with my best friend and living vicariously through the whole Dawson and Joey soul-mate fiasco. He despised Joey Potter, seeing her as indecisive and life-wrecking, while I thought she was just misunderstood.

Feeling nostalgic, I popped a random disc into the DVD player. It was the episode where Pacey and Joey return from their sailing trip. The episode itself wasn't groundbreaking, but the final scene was one of the most romantic of the series. Pacey and Joey took turns reading aloud to each other under the fairy lights on the boat, with Joey falling asleep in Pacey’s arms - a simple yet loving act.

Yesterday, our kayaking plans got canceled due to bad weather, so RD and I stayed indoors. We had lunch with his family, watched TV, and he played on his Xbox while I dozed off next to him on the couch. It wasn't a cinematic romantic moment, but on my drive to Bible study tonight, I replayed yesterday’s events in my head. I remembered waking up to see him smiling at me before turning back to his game. The memory warmed my heart.

confessions of an ebayaholic

I've discovered the ultimate shopping hack: eBay! Since I never try on clothes when I shop anyway, this method seemed like a stroke of genius. Efficient, right? Well, it was until I realised I've become hopelessly hooked. eBay is a minefield for competitive souls like me. I really need to work on this ungodly trait.

The bidding wars are wild - it’s all about winning. Winning! Funny term for something that involves losing money. But the rush of victory? Priceless. For competitive folks, it’s not about the item; it’s about the win. I’m convinced eBay's marketing team knows this and is playing us like fiddles.

In one week, I bought seven items - one for each day of the week. Logical, yes? I have a problem. I'm addicted to eBay. I need to quit. Do they sell patches for this addiction? Maybe something to stick on my wrist to prevent mouse burn?

just friends

When RD and I were friends, we went on many non-dates. We were cautious about where we should go since we didn't want to make the outings date-like. We chose safe places, and the Aquarium at Darling Harbour was one of them. In hindsight, it's beyond me how that was a safe place, with sharks looking into our eyes. I guess it was safer than us looking into each other's eyes, which we were forbidden to do as friends.

It was indeed an interesting year, building a strong foundation as friends, knowing so much yet so little about each other. So close, yet so far. Our friendship was pure, as any platonic relationship should be. We never crossed the line; we knew our boundaries and were conscious of our steps. There was none of this "friends with benefits" garbage. It makes me think about how modern society has soiled the value, innocence, and purity of friendship. People are forgetting the principles of companionship and allowing lust to become their driving factor.

You have two categories for the opposite sex; most of you have probably read or heard of the Ladder Theory before. The first category refers to people you've ruled out as romantic potentials, and the second type is the list of people you might consider dating later on. When I was single, 99% of my male friends were placed in the first category, and I'm sure the feeling was mutual. I'm very decisive when it comes to dating, and I know exactly what and who I want from the first encounter. A girlfriend of mine was confused about her feelings for her boy buddy, so I shared with her my secret boyfriend thermometer.

The test requires you to imagine kissing the person in question. If you're repulsed by the idea, then it's safe to assume you're destined to be friends forever. This experiment doesn't work for everyone, but it works for me. This means I could only imagine myself kissing 1% of the male population in my circle of friends. The test also measures the level of attraction.

In conclusion, two people cannot be friends if they're attracted to each other. They can be in denial, but they'll find themselves naturally drawn to each other, and once the timing is right, they'll grow to become more than friends. When that day finally arrives, they'll discover that the very first kiss is definitely worth the wait.

time management

This year has gone by so quickly, I can feel myself aging as I type this. I've decided to utilise my time and prioritise my fitness goals. I emailed RD a list of my goals so he could help implement and monitor them with me.

The Plan:

1. We should go rock climbing once a month. It was a month ago that we last went

2. Once a month for the 7 AM Saturday Bay Run

3. Salsa class once a week.

4. I'm going to join my friends' soccer team. Their reaction when I told them was laughter. Those clowns don't have any faith in me at all. I'll show them! *raises fist.

The Reality:

1. The last time we went rock climbing, I was exhausted after climbing up two walls and felt like passing out when I had to hold the rope for RD. Evidently, we're not professional climbers, so we need to get into shape before going for Round 2. 

2. Early morning Bay Run: I would probably end up turning it into a bay walk, and it would be lunchtime by the time I reach the end of the track.

3. Salsa dancing: I'm uncoordinated 

4. Soccer: I don't know how the game works. I don't even watch it on TV, so maybe developing some interest in this sport would be helpful. 

RD came up with a new (realistic) plan.

The Revised Plan:

1. Postpone rock climbing until we become fit for it. When I told RD that I was going to faint while holding the rope for him, I think that might have freaked him out, especially since he was hanging in mid-air.

2. We will jog around his block twice a week to train and prepare our bodies for the long Bay Run track.

3. We will commit to 8 weeks of salsa classes.

4. I need to learn the rules of soccer, then I can try playing it. Who knows, it might turn out to be my lifelong passion. I can be the next, err... David Beckham?

Staying in tune with utilising my time, I went to a life drawing session after work in hopes of unleashing some hidden talent. After much tapping, it was safe to say that there was no talent there. My drawings looked like a kindergartener's work; my Sunday school kids could do better than me with their eyes closed. My supportive friends titled one of my sketches "The Emu," even though it was supposed to represent a nude female model. I met up with RD after the class and showed him my "art." He asked me, "Is that a drawing of her front?" The answer was no; it was actually of her back. I'm glad my drawings amused everyone. Even though I discovered (or should I say confirmed) that I wasn't artistically gifted, at least my attempt at being an artist provided entertainment for my friends. And it's a gift to be able to make people laugh, right?

lately

Work's been great. The Advertising Manager amuses me. She is my senior but is dependent and silly. She's the type that makes you want to help her because she's so lost. She's a classic damsel in distress. I absolutely adore her because, for the first time in my life, someone else is more clueless than me. She asks me to help her with funny things like putting the SIM card into her new mobile. She is so lovely and sweet; I just want to plait her hair and feed her grapes. We coincidentally wore the same dress to work, which I think has made us closer than ever. We totally bonded.

I bought RD cologne for Valentine's Day, which was a bad idea because it didn't occur to me that my sense of smell was quite poor. I went shopping with a male friend who insisted that my boyfriend would love the scent and that all the girls wouldn't be able to resist any man wearing it. I wondered why my friend thought that was a good selling point, advising me to purchase cologne for my boyfriend to attract other girls. He wasn't counting me as one of those girls because he should know about my bad sense of smell! Fortunately, I'm secure enough to not let this possibility bother me. My only worry is whenever RD asks me to detect what cologne he's wearing. I'm just going to keep guessing that he's wearing my cologne until told otherwise.

bittersweet

I love driving on the Anzac Bridge. It brings a sense of swift happiness whenever I cross, with my windows down, my music up, and my bad singing. I love it the most when I'm alone, so I can just enjoy the atmosphere undisturbed. Unfortunately, this sensation only lasts while I'm on top of the bridge, but thankfully, it leaves a hint of a cool, fuzzy feeling when I reach the bottom.

In mid 11th grade, my best friend and I skipped school and roamed the city. I remember it as one of the saddest times of my life, and I needed a break from school. Despite feeling down, we enjoyed the day out with each other; she was my partner in crime - I wouldn't have survived senior school without her. Our petty boy troubles seemed equally real back then, and no matter how far we tried to run, they found us. We finally accepted that time would heal all wounds and blasted our misery away in a game of Time Crisis II.

We stood outside the QVB, and I told her to look up at the sky. We noticed two flags on top of the Metro Woolworths building. I asked her to take a mental picture of that sight, to think about how dreadful life was at that moment and to remember that day. Thus, in happier times in the future, we would return to that exact spot and appreciate that the present bad memory would then be of the past. We made a promise to return to that unhappy place together, as soon as we were ultra-happy. 

Maybe it's time to revisit and smile up at those flags, to show them how blissfully happy I am now. It's bittersweet because she is no longer in my life to share this moment with me. I hope she remembers the promise to visit our place, and I pray that she's happy with her life, too.

job seeking

The commercials during morning talk shows told me to get off my butt and get an associate's degree as a paralegal or train as a police officer. So, I ate another chocolate bar. The talk shows themselves indicated that boxer shorts and t-shirts weren't in fashion, so I accessorised with hoop earrings. All this just made me a little nervous. How on earth did the major TV networks find out that I was unemployed?

I've been on "holidays" for over a month now. I used to work 12 hours a day, so I thought I deserved this break. It came as a surprise when I realised that I wasn't cut out to be a full-time bum. I was rather relieved by that discovery, actually. I believed that my body wasn't built for hard labour, so I quit my job and retired early. Just kidding, I'm job-seeking at the moment. It used to be so much easier, especially when companies returned my phone calls.

Everyone is apparently too busy to recruit these days. How am I supposed to get a job if they don't interview me? Or is it my fault if someone else is more qualified than me? How rude. It requires a lot of skills to handle rejection, and I've come to master that art. I'm feeling discouraged, a little anxious, and frankly, I'm just tired from job hunting. Job seeking should be considered a full-time job.

climbing the cholesterol chart

My physio appointment got canceled today due to a sudden renovation emergency. I've been getting massages twice a week, and my physio has been advising (insisting) that I do some exercise in my spare time. I can't deny that I'm unfit, and that's a good sign because admitting you have a problem is the first step. Now, I will proceed to take baby steps to fix myself.

The second step is to seek help. I told RD my problem, and since he's aware that I'm allergic to the gym, he suggested that we do something fun so that I wouldn't think of it as "exercise." I like how my boyfriend knows how to spin a bad condition into a good situation to help me deal with my health issues. He proposed that we try rock climbing because I like to climb (trees in particular), but I suppose fake rocks will do just fine, given that there isn't a recreational tree-climbing centre around.

We're both very competitive, so it will be interesting to see how this activity goes. I think it would be wise to go with another couple because they'd stop us from killing each other. Only kidding—humility is a trait that I want to start exercising too. I'm sure he's a better climber than me, even though I've had many years of experience climbing my neighbour's blackberry tree. I think my incentive to climb that tall tree was to reach the berries. Perhaps I should put food on top of the rock wall for motivation. I'm supposed to stay fit, yet I'm still daydreaming about food.

This is going to be a painful climb to good health.

driving

Due to popular demand, I've decided to be a safer driver this year. I've realised that a confident driver does not equal a safe driver. When your friends are forcing you out of the driver's seat of your own car so they can drive, you can't help but question your credibility as a good driver. Maybe it's not such a coincidence that all of my friends are THAT paranoid about being in a car accident because of me.

"Please don't look at me while you're driving!" is the most common line that I hear from my lovely passengers. I think it's rude not to maintain eye contact when speaking to someone, but they've assured me that it's acceptable to look ahead when driving. They find it hard to believe that I'm able to have a conversation with eye contact and still know where I'm going. I've never been in a real accident before, but I guess for their peace of mind, I'll keep my eyes on the road. I'll also avoid using hand gestures while I speak because apparently, I swerve the car whenever I do that.