Rainy Martini

November 20, 2011

quand je lève les yeux...

When I look up, I don't see the sky immediately...

The view would be instantly obscured by leaves and clouds and life-threatening amount of dust hovering mid-air. Not to mention the cruel rays of the bright, legendary ball. Then beyond what seemed like everything, there, stretched like a lover's arm waiting for an embrace, goes the sky. My sky. My never-ending breadth of blue. Albeit, I've never been a color-blue person. I dislike the color so much the only blue clothing I've got is my track uniform. I used to be a varsity athlete during my junior year, and although our team is called the Golden Phoenix, that didn't stop our coach from picking the color in question.

November 17, 2011

Je veux le livre de Fifi Lapin!

Before I begin this lustful post, I want you to know that the images are from likklegirl, fifi-lapin and afeminada. Now that I've credited the owners, I can now commence.

If you don't know Fifi yet, surely you can't not have seen an image of her somewhere. She's on tumblr, on people's blog layouts, on weheartit, on flickr. She's everywhere, the unforgettable fashion bunny who tells people what to wear because it's awesome.

To cut things (and silk laces) short, Fifi is the style bunny you might wanna consult if you have severe wardrobe malfunction. I'm not a fashionista myself, but I can't help but love her art.

Fifi's bio:
Hi, I'm Fifi Lapin... I was born one of 257 brothers and sisters but sadly there was an outbreak of myxomatosis when I was just one year old... I was the only one that survived. My parents are therefore incredibly protective of me and spoil me rotten. I'm an hare-ss to my fathers fortune which he made playing fast and loose with carrot and lettuce shares on the international stock market. There are a lot of rabbits out there eating carrots and lettuce so I guess he just struck gold (or orange you might say). Some people think I’m just a socialite but I think there is more to me than just an extremely stylish clotheshorse!

I should stop beating around the bush...

It's partly because I can follow her divine fashion, and make-up advice with devotion.

But the larger part was... I want to take photos of her pages. They're just so chic and the art... très beau!

Grace Escudero of theafeminada.com wrote,

This book chronicles how Lapin chooses different outfits for different events. Events include fashion shows, date nights and convincing your father not to take away your credit card (pay good attention to the last one). In each Chapter, Lapin tries on several outfits, states why she likes them, how they can be improved and so forth. Near the end of each chapter she comes to the conclusion that she is too indecisive, so she enlists the help of prominent fashion designers such as Anna Sui. Lapin interviews the designers then asks them to choose an outfit for her from their collections.

And look, it has a Korean and Chinese version too!!

I can't believe I want it so badly I blogged about it.

November 13, 2011

débordant la bouche

"Don't bite off more than you can chew." All I can say is: "Don't go near the chocolate fondue."

And don't put sliced bananas within my reach, they'd most likely end up in my mouth. Nothing happened, really. I wasn't trying to suppress a sneeze. My friend didn't take that photo; I wasn't even chewing a mouthful of bananas avec chocolate sauce. And I was not eating a gobful of chopped—surprise!—bananas while I was about to sneeze. And elephants are microwaves.

Fuck fuck. Why am I being like this anyway? Ugh I'm, if anything, a derp in full throttle.

I wasn't aware that the previous post was... well, posted. It was full of typo errors (corrected them already) and to think that it was my 11/11/11 err... post. I must've written it a few weeks ago and scheduled it. Oh god. Oh god it's fun italicizing post. It's like, giving post a brand new place in society, a new money. This post ends now. I hope I didn't freak you out with this post.

November 11, 2011


Must we know sadness?
salty tears with hearty sobs
from tight throats
Must we treat it with respect?
The invisible
Sending us to our knees
without even touching our
Mercilessly blinds our eyes
with hopelessness
Disentangles us
from the embraces of
Must we let it in,
if it's the only one
Must we let it tear
our heartstrings apart?
Does it always
a company?

November 08, 2011

mon propre crépuscule

I like the sunset; harbinger of the dark, silky velvet where the moon and a million more stars are pinned to.

It's warm, and unlike sunrise, it whistles cooler wind. The latter would rather bring on the heat instead. I live in a tropical archipelago, and like my friend Izzie said, "If it's not sunny, it's raining". True, true. Rare are the days when the clouds clump together, shielding us against the sun's innocent-but-vicious rays. Even rarer are the moments when there's just cool breeze without the presence of raindrops. I love soft drizzles, and I fall even deeper for them when I'm inside; protected from the elements.

People who love quoting "There are people who see a glass half-full, and some, half-empty." And they'll probably deem me as the pessimistic one because of my love for sunsets and endings. I'm not a fan of beginnings to be honest, and before I finish this post I want to let you know that I'm neither of the two seers. I'm someone who would rather hurl the damn glass on the wall, shattering it to pieces. I'm not hostile, but sometimes I wait for no more fuss and revel in silence. Sometimes I want to stop thinking, and seeing the sun set stops my train of thought.

I'm always on edge and it actually pushes me off the cliff of my patience, letting me fall dumbly on the space below. I'm tired of people who urge me to think positive. It's just not me okay?

November 06, 2011


A butterfly flew inside our home. Sushi, my puppy, wasn't very keen on seeing the flimsy flyer. He kept barking at it though it sounded gay and his voice cracked every time. It fluttered around for a few minutes until it circled back to the window. It was shut, unfortunately for the flutter-by. It probably thought "WTF I'm stuck. I freeze now lah," and pretended to not exist for half an hour so I decided to take some photos.

I touched the butterfly! Remember the time when they were warning us about the dust on their wings because it could cause blindness? Those days are gone--for me. Hell, I touched the butterfly.

I happened to be playing Cooking Mama on my brother's Nintendo DSi--it was the only camera available--so the photos are portrayed on grayscale. The quality sucks.

Oh, don't worry, I opened the window to set it free.

November 03, 2011

souvenirs d'enfance

The first photo was taken from when I was 5. Before or after trick-or-treating, I can't be sure. For all I know there's a nyummy-lookin' dome of Chupa Chups and a vintage-looking SLR camera on the center table. And yeah, I always show up as a pumpkin stuffing during Halloween. I dunno, maybe because I like eating squash and it was practically the only vegetable I used to eat. Save for potatoes and corn.

Don't ask me why because I'm not sure why I was wearing an over-sized kimono either. I mean, I'm Chinese lol. Was it during one of my childhood friends' birthday party? A tea party? If it was a tea party, why wasn't I wearing a cheonsam? Oh well, it was an occasion all right and there was a gorgeous ice sculpture behind me in all its blazing glory. If ices can uh, blaze.

Today I turn eighteen, and reaching such age—no matter how cliché—is both a gift and a curse. They're together like Yin and Yang. I am officially, legally an adult now; an adult, a new label I'm being forced to wear. I won't get to wear it like a shirt though. It's not something you peel off your body when it gets soiled. Being an adult means... well, I dunno. I just turned into one a few hours ago.

It's a tattoo. I have it on my skin, and I can have it on my tongue (not to mention my piddly diddly parts) (like, my tummy, wait what were you thinking!?). It's something I'll wear for the rest of my life. It's not necessarily a brand or a label, but the word gives a whole new nuance to my existence. I don't know, to be honest.

I showed you a slice of my childhood. I can't believe I can now officially take on what the song Fireflies (Owl City) really means.