It doesn’t matter how much of a steal it is, I really really can not buy any more clothes. Its embarrassing. The clothes railing in a custom built (by actual carpenters!) wardrobe (I say share…but honestly, mom has like a couple of pieces in it…most of the stuff is mine) dropped. It just broke. I have a lot of clothes. I’ve never shied away from saying that. Owning that statement, however, is another thing. I’ve always said I’ll stop buying. But then I see a piece that catches my eye and well, any resistance is futile. Well, I’m going to try again. Like, really try. No more buying clothes, new or used. And I’m not going to give myself an out like, oh! I’ll just buy this little thing as long as I give up two or three existing pieces in the wardrobe. Because that never works. I buy it, I hang it, and then well, a couple of months later, that piece that I just simply had to have is either still hanging in the wardrobe (tag still in place) or worn only once and forgotten. I have so much clothing that even if someone came in the middle of the night and took an armload away, I might not notice. Sigh. I’m pathetic. This whole wardrobe business, plus the fact that I can no longer fit into any of the clothing I came back with 7 months ago is making me feel very sad. I think I need some chocolate
Hahaha. I need some of those printed out and framed!!
Originally posted on The Snail on the Wall:
I’m rather disappointed in myself. As part of my new year’s resolutions, I had wanted to cut down on the fancy-schmancy coffee (ie my Starbucks addiction), spend less time over-sharing my life on FaceBook (but Tumblr is ok…because, well, when you are over-sharing with strangers, its not nearly as annoying as over-sharing with your friends, right?) and well, be generally more healthy and lose some weight as well.
Unfortunately, all that has happened is that I’m heavier (I’ve put on at least 5kg in the past 3 months), I’m still drinking as much coffee as before, and I’m still (sadly enough) sharing too much on FaceBook (although I’ve posted considerably more on Tumblr…mostly quotes and random stuff like that).
So now what? It seems as if I have absolutely no sense of self-discipline. Anyone has any ideas?
Originally posted on amcherryfairy:
Peter capaldi and Jenna Coleman talking to myself and my two daughters. My youngest has autism and when matt smith said he was leaving she was worried, because she goes on adventures with doctor who and Clara and she was worried that the new doctor ( Peter ) would not like her and wouldn’t want to join in her games.
So on our holiday to Cardiff we fell onto pot luck. We had gone for our lunch at eddies diner and came out to find that doctor who was being filmed. We had a chat with the crew and Jenna and Samuel had photos done with the girls. We were told Peter was not coming down for filming. After telling the crew about roxi and her games with dr who ( Matt ) and the worry she has about Peter. We were told to come back the next day.
My friend D was kind enough to treat me to a night out at the opera! I was so excited its not even funny.
Anyway, Cosi Fan Tutte is considered to be Mozart’s best opera. I had already watched Don Giovani in London (twice!) so I had quite high hopes for the evening.
I’ll be honest, I liked Don Giovanni better. It was a very dramatic opera with fire and hell and deaths.
Cosi Fan Tutte, on the other hand, was quite different. For one thing, no one dies. Its basically about 2 soldiers who bet an old friend that their newly acquired fiances are faithful beings. So their friend hatches (a rather cheeky) plot to prove that they are wrong. So the two men pretend to go to war. Their poor fiances cry and wail about how their world is going to end because it seems that the women equate war with death. So after the two boys ‘go off to war’ and the women sit around mourning, the two boys return disguised as 2 Algerian men to woo these two girls. Their maid, Despina is roped in to help them. Long story short, the ’2 Algerians’ seduce the two girls.
Its meant to be a farce, I’m sure of it. But I think many productions have had quite a number of issues interpreting and staging this production. The Singapore Lyric Opera House chose to set Cosi Fan Tutte in colonial times, probably somewhere along the Straits settlements. Quite clever, I thought. The singing was good, and so was the orchestra but I think the orchestra sometimes was a little too enthusiastic and drowned out the singing. The acting was also very restrained and it wasn’t until the second act when I think the singers realized that everyone was in on the joke that they began to ham it up.
Anyway, all in all it was a great night! I hope we get an opportunity to go to the opera again soon!!
hear hear! I was a KC girl and katong used to be an ‘expensive’ area for me to hang out in. It was always such a nice treat to be allowed to wander along there after school (normally only because mom didn’t have time to cook lunch). But it really has lost quite a bit of its character…
Originally posted on Bertha Harian:
This post has nothing to do with the news of the day. It’s personal and, therefore, totally unreasonable. You’ve been warned.
Two days ago, I spent a whole afternoon in my old stomping ground, Katong. I stomped and stomped. In frustration and rage.
You see, I am a Katong Girl. And I felt like I was in Holland Village.
Originally posted on JACK MONROE:
Monroe is a resourceful and skilled cook, with a recipe book out this month, but she is the opposite of most celebrity chefs. Since May, 2012, she has posted hundreds of budget recipes on her cheerful blog, called “A Girl Called Jack,” ranging from peach-and-chickpea curry (“a good place to hide extra vegetables”) to at least a dozen kinds of bread. She had no computer, so she typed out each recipe—and even her book—on a pay-as-you-go Nokia phone. Each recipe includes the price of each ingredient and the total price of the meal per serving, which typically adds up to less than one pound.
Back in July, 2012, though, while she was posting recipes for friends and then printing them out to distribute at a local food pantry, Monroe wrote an entry called “Hunger Hurts.” The short post told of her quick decline from a middle-class working woman to a single mother on the dole, suffering the pressure of rent arrears when her check arrived mysteriously short. She turned off her heat, unscrewed her light bulbs, and sold every valuable she owned to a pawnshop. Even though she organized her cooking so as not to spend more than ten pounds ($16.65) a week for food, she wasn’t able to keep herself and her son fed: “Poverty is the sinking feeling when your small boy finishes his one weetabix and says ‘more mummy, bread and jam please mummy’ as you’re wondering whether to take the TV or the guitar to the pawn shop first, and how to tell him that there is no bread or jam.”
After that post, Xanthe Clay, a writer from the Telegraph, wrote about her forty-nine pence lunch with Monroe, and a month later a book deal had been inked. Monroe has since been profiled in the Times. The Guardian, a paper for which she now posts weekly recipes, has called her the “modern face of poverty.” She works as an activist for Oxfam and serves as a spokesperson for Sainsbury, a budget supermarket chain in Britain (though she gives away that income to charity). And she has brought petitions to Parliament and written op-eds in support of food banks, where she received ingredients to keep her and her son fed between checks.