Niki Torres

I wrote something for someone’s project. That was three years ago and I stumbled on it again today. Do have a look, flip to page 13, and you’ll see a familiar story.

Funny thing is, the sentiments and circumstances I shared in that story hasn’t changed one bit. Except that I’m older, not necessarily wiser.

Mould-free and ready to kick it!

The only optimism I could muster in such crazy days of work is…

“You know what, yesterday wasn’t so bad! It’s actually better than today.”

I laugh a lot these days, coupled with talking out loud and speed walking. I feel like I have to do things at a fast-forward kind of pace, sort of like watching movies on VHS tapes and then someone accidentally sits on the remote control and everything goes into a blur.

If I could get $5 for every person to ask me if I’m buzzed, I would have enough to pay for my cab ride home. FYI, I live far out North in Singapore’s hillbillies so cab fares are ridiculously expensive. And of course I would say I’m not, because who drinks during work hours except at 5pm when you’re looking at that glass of bubbly telling yourself that the end is near, which most of the time is not. 

I digress.

Back to my giddiness and seeming out pour of energy; it isn’t because I’m drinking or any of that sort. When I laugh out loud like a 12-year old being told a dirty joke, it’s not because I’m ecstatic. You know that point where you’re so busy you feel like you’re going to go into spontaneous combustion? I’m beyond that point. Way beyond it that the only reaction I can do is laugh at the situation I’m in. Because really, the only way to get through these hell weeks is laughing even if it’s the nervous kind.

Last night I was in front of the computer typing away what was a rather easy topic. I began with a few sentences, hit the backspace key and reworded some of it. Then I selected all the text, hit ‘delete’ and started over. This happened, maybe five more times, before I finally settled into the kind of opening statement that I was happy with. In brief, I spent a good hour and a half trying to write something that ended up to be only seven sentences.

With a whole site of content to put together before its launch in October (no exact dates yet, maybe Halloween) it just hit me hard that I am playing a whole new ballgame altogether. I suspect a lot of sleepless nights, occasional self-pity, and empty coffee cups after all this is done. Hopefully when I do emerge at the end of the long, dark tunnel, I would have it in me to dive right back in because this road I’m taking isn’t a short one. So hopefully along the way I’d get me some ‘less anxiety’ and more self-assurance, and perhaps a better grasp at penning my thoughts down.

I think the world deserves to know how awesome W3LL PEOPLE are. Even more so the people who use them.

The other day I bought myself a can opener and I couldn’t believe how excited I was about the whole prospect of owning one. A can opener! How incredulously domesticated it felt—searching through the kitchen section of Tangs to find one—but it was also, however, incredibly liberating.

Two weeks ago when I was making myself some pasta sauce I realize I had tin cans all lined up in front of me. I was dumbfounded to find out that the only semblance of a can opener lying around the house was, well…let’s just say it wasn’t a very pleasant experience. I had to put all my weight and energy into opening a single tin can. That multiplied by four and it was my week’s worth of strength training.

So we’ll ignore the part that maybe I have lousy upper body strength and suck it up to the fact that I have taken for granted the pleasant joys of opening a can all without breaking a sweat.

As a new owner of a can opener I have but one request: if anyone needs any cans opened, you know who to call. Let’s take this one for a spin!

The scanned first page of my notebook and the beginning of my journey back to writing.

“I can’t help but wonder whether all this histrionic exhaustion isn’t a way of covering up the fact that most of what we do doesn’t matter.”

I had this notion that we don’t really need a full work week of five days, that if given the opportunity, I bet we could all have three-day work weeks. I mean you don’t spend eight hours every day working, you’re just at the office eight hours every day. There will be days where only six hours of your time (or even less) is needed to get the job done and the rest gets blurred with the notion of “being busy” when in fact we’re just waiting for that alarm bell that signals we can leave for the day. Wouldn’t it be good for everyone else if we are able to be more productive and efficient at work and the freed up time gives us the opportunity to do what we want to do outside of it?

“Fairness is about being able to love who I want, whoever I want, regardless of their size, gender, race or whatever without being judged.” – Kiyomi Shimizu

They say the beginning of a lasting friendship starts with a good sandwich. So on a bright Sunday afternoon, we did just that. I don’t suppose we were on to something then but it does have the makings of becoming something great.

lifeonsundays:

(via dulcisdomus, nautdesign)

nevver:

Scheletro umano

Gorgeous!

sosuperawesome:

The Instant Comfort Pocket Box, by Kim Wellings in Utrecht, Netherlands.

novh:

Nich Hance McElroy