Open Letter to A Depressed Friend

Dear Blue,


You've been pretty down lately. Actually, down might be an understatement. You're depressed. Clinically so. And I don't know how to help.

It started after you took up this job. You started out with intense concentration and a drive to perform well. You asked questions, turned to others for help. But then the demands of the job got to you, and liaising with clients proved to be more stressful than you expected. You got emotional when they got emotional; you took it personally, feeling each client's exasperation more keenly than you needed to.

It didn't help that your superior took it upon herself to micromanage and required a daily update of your work, and issued you copious documents and Excel sheets to fill out to keep track of every transaction made and deal closed. And despite your best efforts, despite the extra hours you worked, things were still scattered all over the place.

Soon, everything started weighing down on you from every end, and things were slipping through your fingers like water no matter how hard you grasped and clenched your fists. Meanwhile, your superior continued to monitor your behaviour at work, running a tight leash and hawk-eyeing your activities on your computer and even cellphone.

"She's a tyrant," we all declared, shaking with indignation on your behalf. "You don't have to let her bully you like this."

"But it's my fault," you would say, staring morosely into space. "I'm not meeting targets."

I used to call it a Capricorn trait. Capricorns are a broody bunch, and they tend to blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, whether or not they are at fault. "You're such a typical Capricorn. Cheer up! Things will be okay."

Sometimes, I wanted to tell you to snap out of it. And I might even have on one occasion when your pessimism got to be too much for me. "Get mad, don't get sad," I said. Sorrow and self-pity were useless emotions that put nothing in motion, only drive you deeper into the mud. Anger helped; anger catapulted you out of the mud, for better or for worse. But it isn't like you to get mad; anger isn't your default emotion.

Besides, I realised that depression isn't something you can just "snap out of". It consumes you whole and takes over your life, like a giant winged beast that blots out the light in the sky, a beast whose cries you can't block out. A Fellbeast.

Too often, it's easy to discount someone else's emotions unless we experience them ourselves. We tend to attribute a person's depressed state to his or her mental tenacity, and believe that once you force yourself to rise above it you'll be fine. But depression isn't just a state of being; it's a condition that requires hours of therapy, antidepressants, and a listening ear.

So that's what you did. You went for therapy sessions and took medication, and things did get better. You laughed more, and engaged in more social activities again. But still there are times when work eats away at you so you can't even taste your food or focus on everyday tasks. All we can do as your friends is hold up your spirits, padding you with constant reassurances, remind you of everything else that's good in your life, and actively seek for alternatives to improve your situation.

Reality is not always kind, and so you sometimes have to fill that role all on your own.

You have to allow yourself compassion and forgiveness. Shame is not useful. Feeling lazy or weak or as a failure won't fix anything for you. Beating yourself up isn't a very good way to become who you want to be.

~ Chuck Wendig


Dear Blue, you taught me to have more patience for someone who requires constant encouragement to keep afloat. You made me experience "sympathy depression", and in turn understand what it's like to be cloaked in the iron blanket of hopelessness and unrelenting self-doubt and criticism.

So I hope that while you develop a rhino heart and a bullet-proof armour against the slings and arrows of life, the sticks and stones that others may launch at you, you will also be far kinder to yourself than you are. You are more capable than you believe, funnier than you think, and stronger than you realise.

Whatever you choose to do from now on, know that we will always have your back and be here to offer a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or supply you with as many images of derpy hot guys and cute fuzzy animals as you need to feel better again.


Love,
Joyce

Chinese New Year weekend recap!

 

Happy Monday!

For those who celebrate, how was your Chinese New Year weekend? Mine involved lots of pigging out and selfie-taking. So much so that I've sparked the comment, "Why do you keep taking selfies? Have you never seen your face before?" from a selfie-hating friend. Oh yeah, he's a riot.

Anyways, pictures!

Remember those horse decorations at Chinatown? They look even more magnificent at night.

On the eve of Chinese New Year's eve, we had a visitor at the office. And then some.

Everyone, particularly the non-Chinese, were incredibly amused by the God of Fortune and the lion dance troupe that came knocking in a clamour of gongs and drums.

Later, we had the traditional lou hei, where we tossed the mix of raw vegetables, salmon, honey, peanuts, crackers as high as we could without making a complete mess on the table, while yelling out whatever auspicious phrases we knew and our wishes for the Lunar New Year. Most of the wishes went along the lines of getting a promotion/pay raise/a boyfriend and winning the lottery.

When we were done, one of the guys from the International team asked, "So do you guys eat it or do you just play with it?"

Of course we tuck in! It takes a lot out of you to yell and toss things in the air. (I kid.)

Chinese New Year's eve was the day of feasting, and we were all too busy stuffing our faces to take any photos of the spread. Ah well.

Per our annual tradition, my dad and I went to catch the fireworks by the bay after dinner. There's something magical about fireworks. All these explosions of colour and light above you as the ground rumbles and shakes beneath you. You feel heady, dazzled, ready to take on what comes next. Like a star being born. Like you're shaking off the grime of last year, one explosion in the sky at a time. Boom. Clean slate.

That family behind me couldn't have been noisier. Don't you just hate it when people talk during a firework display? It's like being interrupted when you're reading. You just need some space to appreciate the display in silence, reflect on the past year, and make wishes for the new year - NOT hear some guy behind you go, "Wah wah wah!" nonstop.

Ah well.

While waiting for the firework display, and after it was over, my dad and I got a little shutter-happy.

The God of Fortune in front of the Singapore Flyer

Light festival!

And more pretty lights!

And more!

What's better than a horse? A pink horse!

There's this Chinese custom where children sleep late - or better yet, don't sleep at all - on Chinese New Year's eve so that your parents can live to a ripe old age. It's just as well that Dad and I usually go catch the fireworks at midnight. I get to prolong my dad's life! Those who know me know that I abide by quite a rigid routine: asleep at 11 pm, awake at 7 am, swim at 8 am and start the day by 10 am. But this annual tradition calls for an exception. Besides, the pool's closed on Day 1 of Chinese New Year.

Chinese New Year Day 1 is when the entire family congregates at my grandparents' place and - yes, you guessed it - feast. Again. Well, there's the whole exchange of well-wishes and socialising and photo-taking. But food was a major part of the day too.

Again, we were too busy chomping down on my grandmother's homemade dishes - vegetable and duck soup, stir-fried broccoli and mushrooms and prawns, braised pork belly and abalone stew with and hard-boiled eggs, roasted meats and ngoh hiang, which is this mix of minced meat and chopped water chestnuts and prawn bits rolled spring roll style in fried beancurd skin. HEAVEN.

Images procured from the Web, for the sake of those unacquainted:

Braised pork belly with hard-boiled eggs

Salted vegetable and duck soup

Ngoh Hiang

Is it any wonder my healthy eating habits go straight out the window during Chinese New Year?

Then we had to take the (pretty much) prerequisite selfies too. It's not every day everyone is all dolled up and together, after all.

With my aunts and cousins on the left

And my dad

I swear by fit-and-flare dresses. They cinch in your waist and make your legs look slim. Bonus if they come in pretty colours like lilac or Ming vase prints!

On the second day, Dad and I caught I, Frankenstein, which turned out to be surprisingly good! I was pretty wary about it given the unfortunate experience with Hansel and Gretel (even the awesome Jeremy Renner couldn't save it). Remixed classics tend to get butchered despite the best intentions.

But I, Frankenstein was pretty original, and as far as fantasy stories go, this one was entertaining enough without inane or extraneous dialogues. Frankenstein's monster, in this movie, has become a modern-day demon-hunter caught in the age-old battle between gargoyles (descendants of heaven) and demons. So crazy it's good!

And on the third day, there was more feasting. I'm starting to sound like an unapologetic glutton. This time, it was Korean barbeque, just because.

And that was it for the weekend! More gatherings to come, in the vein of Chinese New Year. And I'm actually looking forward to them!

*

Anyway, this is completely random, but I am SO tempted to get some hair chalk. Have you heard of it before? Apparently, it's like hair dye, but very temporary - so temporary you can wash it off anytime you want -  so this is perfect for someone who gets bored of her looks easily. With hair chalk, I can finally get pink streaks in my hair ... like this!

Look how sweet but punkish Rachel McAdams looks!

You can look completely sweet too, but not boring, like January Jones

Ah, Chloe. I swear, she can do no wrong.

Have I mentioned that Chloe Moretz is one of my style icons? Such a fashion risk-taker but always classy and age-appropriate.

Pink streaks and waves, a la Nina Dobrev? Heck yeah!

And the best part about hair chalks? I don't have to commit to anything. Just wash with water and shampoo!

Ah, hair chalk. Please stop tempting me!

*

So now it's back to real life, even though Chinese New Year celebrations typically last for 15 days. Back to writing and rewriting and revising and polishing, because damn I am making this year the year my writing dreams come true.

Stephanie Perkins on how to make yourself write even when the going gets tough:

Free-write before you write-write. Eventually, you'll get so tired of your own whining that you'll actually go write something.

Ha! Ain't that the truth. After a while, I realised all my complaining and head-banging (that is, against the desk, not to the music) isn't leading me anywhere with my work-in-progress. So I decided to push through. Sometimes, that's all you can do.

Or, you know, you can also blog.

Steph goes on:

I know from experience. I have tens of thousands of freewriting words telling myself how much both my novels and me suck. That negative energy has to come out somewhere, and freewriting is a safe place to say the things you're most afraid of — and to wake your brain up in the process.

Free-writing. Hmm. Laini Taylor also advocates this practice. I mean, come on. She wrote an award-winning book of short stories based on these free-writes that obviously took her places. But then again, she's Laini Taylor. She totally has the writing chops to produce award-winning (National Book Award, no less) books.

Writing a novel — a publishable novel — takes work. Real, actual, hard WORK.
This requires an attitude adjustment from, "Oh, what a fun little hobby" to "I will DO this. Even when it gets hard, even when I don't like it anymore, even when I want to give up. I will keep working until I reach the end."

*

And finally, since it's Monday, here are some mood-lifters to kick start your week!

Misha Collins and his son West cooking - too cute!

For the complete version (and a bag of laughs), watch this:

Westie, stop being so frigging adorable! I can't take this!

Plus, can I just say how incredibly patient Misha is? Guys are the sweetest when they're good with kids. I like how he lets West make the decisions and doesn't tell him what to do, just guides and facilitates whenever necessary. Giving your kids some level of autonomy can do wonders for their self-esteem when they grow older.

Check out the earlier episodes! They are just as funny and adorable! :0)

Pink owl cookies - too cute to eat!

You pretty, pretty boy.

Hallim Park in Jeju Island

Jeju-do, I WILL be back again. Soon

Santorini. Some day.

Because that's the best way to get by

Have a great week, everyone!

Monday moodlifters!

(I've decided to name all my posts on Monday "Monday moodlifters" because I'm a lazy ass who doesn't want to come up with new post titles every week. So if you have issue with the cheesy name, suck it. Kidding!)

So I came across this article on weird things that affect our dreams today. I don't know if it's all just a load of horse shit, but they do sound plausible. At least, we all know the stuff we're exposed to during the day gets processed by our pre-conscious mind and they manifest in completely bizarre ways when we're asleep.

Speaking of dreams, I had the weirdest dream last Saturday (I'm starting to see a pattern here - is Saturday the day when my circadian rhythm jumps out of whack?), and the emotions I experienced in it were so intense I woke up crying. No shit.

(It's funny. You may be sobbing your heart out in your dream, so hard that you feel like your chest and face might explode from all that emotion, but you wake up and find that you're only just tearing up. Like how you're screaming and shrieking in your dream, and you're actually just whimpering in waking.)

My dream might have to do with the book I just finished reading:

Wonder Show by Hannah Barnaby

It's about a girl named Portia who was abandoned by her family at a home for girls during the Great Depression era. I generally avoid books set in depressing times because they're such downers (sorry!), but this one has a circus, a budding romance and is a coming-of-age story about a girl searching for her father.

Okay, that's a terrible summary. I think this blurb from Teen Librarian Toolbox does it more justice:

Portia has always grown up hearing the stories of her family, but when her family disappears there is no one left to care for her except for The Mister. The Mister runs the McGreavey Home for Wayward Girls and it is a place that you would do anything to escape if you could, perhaps even death.  When one of the girls in the home, her friend Caroline, does indeed take her life, the thought that she may be a murderer haunts her.  For a while Portia languishes at the home, biding her time and praying that her father will magically appear and rescue her, but when the circus caravan drives by and a card with all their routes on it falls out a window and glides slowly to the ground, she has a new plan. 

Portia jumps on a bright red bicycle and pedals to a new type of freedom, she hopes.  Her she stumbles upon The Wonder Show, a side show of circus freaks who caravan across the country and make a meager living based solely on their various oddities.  Tall men, short men, fat ladies and a woman with no arms who throws knives with deadly precision - they are now the only hope that Portia has of out running The Mister and trying to find the father she knows once loved the circus.  Portia knows it is only a matter of time before The Mister finds her, he is not the type of man to let someone get away. And Portia, more than anyone ever has, has upset The Mister.

Abandonment, optimism, flagging hope, It's right in line with the themes and emotions of Neverland. Plus, the pacing is tight and keeps you turning the pages, the characters are people you want to root for, there is an underlying sense of urgency and danger threaded throughout the story, and you find yourself hoping along with Portia for her father to find her.

Some beautiful quotes from the book:

Sometimes promises are even harder to keep than secrets. Promises are easily made - we toss them like coins bound for a fountain and leave them there, under the water, waiting to be retrieved.

And:

The ones who left (tapped at the edge of her memory), and the ones who were left behind, everyone in motion like startled birds, trying to find a place to land.

And:

There was always someone going and someone left behind. Portia had been both. She had enjoyed neither. But she knew that leaving a place was sometimes necessary, when you wouldn't breathe there anymore, when you weren't yourself because of it.

And finally:

Lives only begin once.  Stories are much more complicated.

I love it so much I NEED to own it.

Anyway, yes, the dream.

It involved a girl (let's call her Iris) being found by Mother, a no-nonsense but kind lady who founded the Academy for Wayward Teenage Girls. There, she got into trouble with the other girls, got framed, got kissed, got blamed for a murder, got expelled, and finally she realised that she had nowhere left to go. That the Academy, for all its failings and imperfections and hateful rules and hierarchy, was the only place she had come to count on. That part where Mother had to let her go was the part where Iris (or, okay, me, since I was Iris in the dream) struggled to hold in her tears and eventually broke down. I woke up to find my pillow soaked, although I wasn't choking on my tears the way Iris - or I - had been in the dream.





What, you don't get weird-ass dreams like that?

On the plus side, that dream made for some really good writing material. I might write something about it when I have the time, maybe a short story, if not a proper novel. I've been saving my dreams for ages, recording them in my notebook as detailed as I possibly can, hoping to one day discover them properly and fill up the missing pieces (you know how dreams can be a little hole-y).

Hmm. How shall I develop Iris's story? I already have a few ideas brewing, but am not sure how to work out the technicalities...

NO, JOYCE, NO. NOT NOW. NOW IS THE TIME FOR NEVERLAND!! DO NOT GET SIDETRACKED.

Okay, that's enough rambling for the day. Shall leave with a few lovely quotes and pictures, as usual.

John Green offers some very inspiring advice to aspiring writers:

Don’t make stuff because you want to make money — it will never make you enough money. And don’t make stuff because you want to get famous — because you will never feel famous enough. Make gifts for people — and work hard on making those gifts in the hope that those people will notice and like the gifts.Maybe they will notice how hard you worked, and maybe they won’t — and if they don’t notice, I know it’s frustrating. But, ultimately, that doesn't change anything — because your responsibility is not to the people you’re making the gift for, but to the gift itself.

It's easy to lose sight of the reason you write. We want to be published so badly, want everything that comes along with being published. Book tours, book signings, brushing shoulders with YA superstars - *ahem* Laini Taylor *ahem* Sarah Dessen... Writing is such a lonely journey we want to see results sooner, if not at least have people to share the process with. To find someone(s) who's as excited and invested in the story as we are.

Which is why writing a novel requires SO MUCH patience and perseverance. You need stamina to see this shit through. To put yourself through this mental agony day after day until you hit The End.

But I guess I will try to see this journey - or, in fact, every journey, assuming I still have stories I want to write - for what it is. If not a gift, then at least a much-needed lesson in perseverance.


Laini Taylor on writing meaningful dialogue:

I think the trick to enjoying dialogue (which I think is the lifeblood of a book) is: to have characters who want things and are doing things. Then there's plenty to talk about, and their unique identities emerge more (for me) in the writing of dialogue than anywhere else. 

 WANTING and DOING. What do my characters WANT and DO?




Rose garden love!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. love!

Reading love!

And finally,

Pretty boy love! 

Have a great week, everyone! ❤