Word.

We're never enough.

The Back-up Plan. Among other things.

Source: thereelthing

So, been rewatching this.

It's cheesy, I know. Storyline's predictable as well. And there are negative reviews of this movie but I've gotta say, the main reason I keep rewatching this movie over and over and over again (besides Alex O'Loughlin and his sexy gothic cheekbones and sharp jawline) is J.Lo's wardrobe.

It's so incredibly boho chic! I am in love with almost everything she wears in the movie. From the very first scene onwards. Everything. E. Very. Thing.

Source: fashionrules

I'm completely obsessed! I mean, yeah besides the fact that J.Lo is my style icon. I love everything she dons. Well. Most of everything. And she's gorgeous! She is 41 and absolutely stunning. Pre-baby or post-baby just. Wow. Ofcourse, it's hollywood so she works hard at looking the way she does but hey, I've got my own Hollywood goin on in my mind so we're even. Don't debate me on this, I will fail hopelessly. Just give me this one.

She's got a very relaxed style in the movie. Very boho chic with the loose fitting tops and wide leg jeans. Wide legs are so in right now. I'm dying for one. Especially these kinds! Saw a pair I really liked featured in Cleo earlier. I must check them out.

And how gorgeous is that Stephanie Large Slouchy Hobo Furstenberg sling on her shoulder? Beyonce was seen carrying it around Soho, New York last year in March.

875 USD a pop. With my measly salary I will have to survive on cucumbers for the next 4 years.

If leaves counted as money, loves. If only.

Olfactory memory /edited

Source: geomonkey.wordpress (Cigarette Girl)

Growing up as a child in my house, the smell of cigarette smoke would always linger in the air whenever Dad's around. Which is rare, he worked outstation alot and every night before bed I'd sit with mom and made a countdown of how many days until he comes home.

Whenever I smell someone puffin' up the good ol' Marlboro lights, it takes me back to the days when I was 5 and the only thing I looked forward to at the end of the day was seeing Dad.

I've only fond memories of Dad as a child. There are sour ones but you don't hold on to the bad ones when you're 5 and the worst thing that could happen to you was falling down and scraping your knee. Even then you look forward to putting on this adorable Sesame Street band aid.

There's something very comforting about the smell of Marlboro seeped into crisp fresh linen. Was never drawn to dad's signature Polo for Men (the emerald bottled one with the gold cap. Looks like a whiskey flask). I preferred the Marlboro. I remember burying my face into his shirt when he picked me up because it smelled like, him. The person who brings back surprise kit kats and a bag pack full of treats after a hard day's work. I'd call him up about 5 times a days every time something went a little out of control and I'll always have this conviction that it'll all be alright again as long as he was around. As long as I could get him on the phone. Everything will be incredible. Which is the main reason why I hate the lady who tells you you can't reach the person on the other line. And so I look forward into breathing in tobacco on his office shirt everyday.

Dad's smoking habit was probably one of the main reason why my asthma had escalated from a child to a teenager. Even with the abundant inhalers and nebuchadnezzar (the oxygen mask thing, I really hadn't bothered to know what the name really is). But I didn't mind the medications. I loved how he smelled though my mom would put it as "reeking" with tar, it was a scent I was fond of.

I grew up recognizing the scent as that of my father.

Don't get me wrong, second-hand smoking is bad, very bad.
But some bad things are good things when you take away their medical side effects in the end.

It's like a diabetic having his cake and not knowing the first thing about diabetes.

This is over the top, we've changed.

Here we are again

So I'm back again.

I guess.
I hope it's for good. I need an emotional wasteland and also coz writing in diaries isn't safe anymore. Not that I have been writing in a specific beautiful victorian-esque gray suede notebook I used to carry around. Working day to day doesn't give me much time to do so. Also coz I've been uninspired alot.

But that's really a whole bunch of crap I say to convince myself why I haven't been writing. Stuff like how;

1. I've been too tired. Work's from 9-6 and maybe longer sometimes so I conk out soon as I get home.

2. My mind is occupied over the few months and depression isn't a good state to be in.

3. I'm getting over a phase in my life that's been putting me in a dump. Again, depression.

I'd like to think of the sabbatical I took off writing and sharing my thoughts with people as a way of finding myself. I mean, I do write sparingly just not publicly anymore. And this journey fo "finding myself" is working out to be a good one. I'm alot more cheerful. It helps that work is good for me and I'm surrounded by the people I love (though I do tend to stay up in my room alot and apparently has caused and uproar among the elder fellows. That wasn't a good weekend). I'm just chilling, taking life one day at a time, handling my day to day catastrophes and figuring out what I want. Though soon enough I'm due for a vacation. I need a vacation too. But more on that later.

So far, I'm loving this journey. And I thank God that I've gotten this far and I haven't fell down into the pits like I had intended to earlier.

Here's to a (another) brand new start.
I hope you're all feeling good as well.