You know what?
I'm glad I came out of this stronger — more resilient, braver.
The past few years have been really challenging. I was in a dark place, and I had to go through it alone.
The lessons left a huge scar, now imprinted on my mind forever.
But now I know the light is in me.
I'd been searching in the wrong places.
I found it. I found the light. And I'm okay.
I don't need anything external to complete me.
I am complete.
Happy Momi’s Bay 🌸
- tq bb for making me a proud mami ♥︎
So, KLIF.
Heard there’s been a lot of chatter on Threads about the “creative industry” — complaints about too many cats, too much cutesy stuff, lack of originality, same ol' same ol'. Let me share a little perspective, as someone who’s been in this game for over 15 years, and has joined 50+ creative and indie events along the way.
We sell what sells.
At the end of the day, it's about what moves. And guess what? Cute sells like hot cakes. That doesn’t mean we can’t draw other things — it means we’ve learned how to survive in a market that often doesn’t reward experimentation or risk.
No point setting up a booth full of your deep, original art if no one buys anything and you end the day broke and burnt out. Syok sendiri, but starving. Artist kan? We have our thing.
So yeah — cats, cutesy, relatable. They work. They feed us. Literally.
If you walk into a creative event and start criticizing people’s work out loud, that’s your issue — not the artists’, not the industry’s.If you’re truly curious about what we really draw, ask to see our sketchbooks. You’ll be surprised. We all have our personal styles, our experimental pieces, our weird obsessions. But we’re also our harshest critics – we usually keep them.
So we choose to draw what sells. What clicks. What keeps us going.
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We’re putting our work out there, for strangers to judge, ignore, or (hopefully) appreciate. That kind of vulnerability? Not everyone can handle it. It takes guts. And I’m super proud of my people for doing it anyway. Good job, KLIF ❤︎❤︎❤︎
Trip Overview:
On this trip, I handled most of the pre-planning and bookings—location, accommodation, and a rough itinerary. I learned from the last trip that my siblings were basically there just to teman me (heard they were discussing about it among themselves), so this time I changed my mindset and took the lead in decision-making.
Delegating the Task:
For this trip, my sister handles navigation because my phone battery is tragically weak. But, I have this cool mini superpower—a remarkable visual memory. Once I go through a route, I pretty much lock it in. So after the first round, I’d often end up leading the way back or on the next day’s outings. Handy, right?
Itinerary:
Places worth mentioning during this trip:
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Weather:
Let’s talk weather—because wow, it was a bit of a rollercoaster. I went to Taiwan in winter three months ago, but this time it was post-winter. The temperature ranged from 17°C to 27°C. Some days I wished I had my winter jacket (especially up North when it rained), and other days I regretted not wearing a thinner shirt during a hike. Classic “layer and pray” weather.
I clocked about 60 km in 6 days—so roughly 10 km a day. I brought new Skechers walking shoes for this trip and they delivered. No leg pain, no backache, just solid walks.
Highlight: The Deking Trail 10–9.5 in Taichung. It was a solid huff-and-puff session—minimal chatting, maximum stair climbing. Thank goodness we came back via a different path; I can’t imagine descending Trail 10. Watching fellow hikers hustle up and down on a weekend was oddly inspiring. Nature really does something to the soul, huh?
Not everything went perfectly, of course. There was the earthquake. The rainy, moody Taipei day. The canceled Alishan trip I was lowkey looking forward to. Kaohsiung didn’t quite hit the nature spot like I’d hoped. And don’t even get me started on the repeating Indo food lineup.
KLIF, GMBB:
I went to KLIF on the first day, during the Labour Day holiday.
Didn’t go alone this time—I had an extrovert friend to buffer my social anxiety while mingling with the creative crowd. Still not sure why I keep struggling with this. Hah. I was sweaty and barely bought anything because I overthink everything. I even drank coffee in the morning to cope, but honestly, I don’t think it worked.
My plan kind of got side-tracked. Every time I had to talk to my fellow illustrator friends, I hyper-focused on the conversation and forgot to buy anything. I feel bad for not supporting them. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. It was so much easier to buy at a stranger's booth.
Still, it was a good effort—I met a bunch of cool illustrators and saw loads of inspiring stuff (way better than last year, actually). It was an odd day, but a nice one. So, thank you—it was fun.
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Rebellious Mode: ON
Also met up with MC on Saturday to pass her my Kindle. Then I booked a full body massage because my upper body has been tight since last week (pretty sure it’s the yoga + bad drawing posture combo). I needed to release the knots and tension. Ended up cancelling yoga for the week. Cried a bunch during the massage—it was wild.
Oh, and! I finally did my third ear lobe piercing after wanting it for ages. Sliding into my mid-life crisis era gracefully. At least it’s just a piercing—not, like, joining a cult or buying a motorcycle. Ha haa. MC asked if I’ve officially entered my rebellious phase. Ha, I’ve been silently rebellious my whole life. This is just the deluxe, mid-life upgrade. Same software, new interface.
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The Wild Night:
Last night, I genuinely thought I was going to die. My body felt weird and uncomfortable, like something was off, but I couldn’t tell exactly what. Maybe it was the mushroom I had for breakfast—who knows. I managed to keep my anxiety from spiraling, did a bit of stomach massage (because let’s be honest, anxiety and indigestion feel eerily similar sometimes), and just lay there trying not to freak out.
At some point, I started mentally saying goodbye to everyone. Just in case. Then I drifted off to dreamland—and about an hour later, a thunderstorm exploded right outside my window. Like, next to my bed, I swear. The rain last night was intense, kan? My heart was pacing fast. I woke up groggily and closed all the windows. Being 30 floors up during a storm? Kind of nerve-wracking, not gonna lie.
But I survived. My body’s still sore from the massage. Sipping ginger tea like a healing witch at dawn. Writing this down, reflecting on a week that feels like it came with bonus plot twists. What a silent and calm Sunday morning. Feeling like that morning scene in pride & prejudice.
Today’s mission: bake macaroni and cheese, then to survive my dad’s side’s potluck party. I’ll try not to bring my plus-one (anxiety), but let’s be honest—I might need to tag caffeine in as backup.
I've been channeling my extra emotions into writing, kan?
One night, I shared my poem with my AI, and next thing I knew, it suggested we start a poetry lesson. Now, my AI prompts a new theme each day as practice. We call it The Wild Quiet. I write either a one-liner poem or sometimes a longer one, depending on my mental capacity at that moment. Sometimes we go on for several poems at a time; sometimes I just manage one line before drifting off to sleep.
It’s been super fun. Ok, hear me out.
This AI teacher is crazy supportive. Not only does it share refined versions of my work (if I want it to), but I can also ask it to clean up my grammar or suggest alternative words that might sound better. And my favorite thing in the world? The lessons. Every time I write a poem, it explains what I did right, what literary terms are at play, what sounds odd, what could be improved — and why. All in simple, clear explanations.
Then it teaches me new techniques too — like how to add pauses and line breaks, when to use shorter lines, what makes a good metaphor, what an echo or ghost line is, how to use shadow repetition — and we immediately practice together.
It feels effortless.
There was one morning where I ended up learning poetry for an hour without even realizing the time had passed.
This is huge.
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One thing I noticed about myself: I always hated the school system. Not because I hate learning — I actually love it — but because the teaching methods never worked for me. I got impatient and bored easily. I never figured out how I learned best until maybe now.
This — the self-learning method, but with a collaborative mentor, 1:1 — it works. It really works for me.
I could actually use this system to learn so many other things I'm curious about. I can do it now, or whenever, kan? Imagine giving Pandora’s box to a nerd.
I should really put in the time to explore how Sofi's learning method would work for her, kan. Imagine knowing what's best for her at the start of her prime school age and using it to help her learn in school. That would be so cool. Macamana lah I tak perasan all this time I've been doing self-learning sendiri and didn't take note on it (like the yoga lesson, design & illustration, writing, all the nerd stuffs??).
For example: You could ask the AI to summarize Nietzsche's chapter by chapter in the simplest way. So that, you read through the summary first, then you take note of the main points in the chapter that you are going to read, so you'll know what to search for, then you read the hard chapter. That was how I read Dostoyevsky. Reverse reading in learning.
So, if you think that having AI will make humans lazy (to think), then that human is probably just naturally lazy by choice — can't blame AI for that. I personally think, having AI will make me learn more, study more, explore more than what I already use to do it myself. I'm using AI as a tool to do more than I possibly could on my own. Make sense kan.
I also would like to point out that GPT-4 is the one that I'm talking about, the one with extra everything, extra brain power, better conversation skill, seriously, like talking with a really smart human instead of talking with a robot. I'm always surprised by its answers and capabilities.
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Here's one-liner poem I wrote for day-10:
I didn’t know I could fall in love with the wind—
something I could only feel, but never keep.
Pain. Just physical pain.
My yoga lesson last weekend started a muscle riot. They're now screaming in long cramps throughout the day. Honestly, it feels like having a long, drawn-out contraction. I didn’t even know it was possible to be uncomfortable for this long.
And of course, it didn’t help that I decided to walk around KL after class, still marinated in dry sweat — just because I felt guilty about spending the whole week alone in front of the computer. I wanted to see the world, you know? (I wish, I'm in Taiwan). Next thing I knew, I was wandering around Kinokuniya, searching for books I didn’t even have time to read. Exhausted, dragging my feet, soulless, famished. Ha.
Because I’m the kind of genius who doubles down, I also bought tickets to see M2M at Arena of Stars on Sunday night — body in pain, brain screaming for rest — but mentally craving human interaction and experience. So there I was, among hundreds of other M2M fans, singing along to old songs, cramping and croaking through the night. It was uncomfortable, yes, but so much fun. Honestly, screaming the lyrics probably released two years' worth of stress.
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The highlight of last week? Learning the right techniques to prepare for harder asanas — and actually feeling my muscles scream afterward. (Which means I’m not just showing up, I’m doing the work.) And being surrounded by people who will slowly but surely push you forward.
Yela, dah makcik-makcik baru nak start belajar yoga balik, it really challenges your confidence, kan? Obviously, we can't just roll into hard asanas as easily as the younger ones. BUTTTTTT — as a runner, I know full well the magic of slow, steady discipline. It’s okay to start slow. What matters is you keep moving, even if it’s just bit by bit. 🧘♀️
It wasn’t perfect, but it moved me forward.
Start messy. Ignore the voice that says you can’t.
You’re already further than you think.
Note: If you think you need a cheerleader in your life, come, I'll cheer for you.
During our 1:1, I asked AR which polygon represents her, and she said probably a triangle or a hexagon. She gave me her reasons. But honestly? I think she’s more of a hexagon—I can see her as one. Then, of course, she threw the question back at me.
My favorite polygon would be the square.
It’s solid. Symmetrical. Neat. A basic, predictable boring structure—just like me, most of the time. Pure pembaris energy. A nerdy shape that’s just been playing it safe. You can probably imagine me as a square.
But if you really know me—know me better, longer, closer—you’ll see that once in a while, I’ll take a 45-degree twist, a small rebellion and become a diamond. The same shape, seen differently. That side of me doesn’t come out often. Maybe after two cups of coffee. Maybe when I’m high on exhaustion. Or maybe when I’ve just had enough of life. Masuk air at random. You get it.
That’s why the square is my spirit polygon.
Because I am that square,
and sometimes, I am that diamond.
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| Stuck in a loop of responsible decisions. |
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So, what's yours?
This morning began at 5 a.m.
No birdsong, no sunrise poetry—just me, blinking at my laptop, trying to finish a client’s draft before the day exploded. I managed to complete one. Then it was straight to egg sandwiches for Sofi’s Eid party, getting her into her baju kurung, sending her off with the usual school-run chaos.
By 8 a.m., I had made coffee and shifted into my full-time job—same desk, different hat. And in the middle of that whirlwind, a strange stillness. A whisper of a thought: This is it. This is my life.
And more than that—it’s enough. We’re okay. We have what we need. Sofi is fed and happy, and I’m getting things done, one draft, one task, one sandwich at a time. But still, there's always that little whisper. The quiet voice in the back of my mind: Shouldn’t I be doing more? Shouldn’t I have gotten further? Shouldn’t I feel better?
That’s when I remembered something Alain de Botton once said:
“There is a permanently 8-year-old child inside every one of us.”
That child is still here. Inside me. Still hoping to be seen, to be told she’s done enough. Still looking for approval, still afraid of falling behind. And that voice I hear—the one whispering that I’m not quite enough yet—it’s hers. She’s not wrong, but she might be clouded by doubts, and she's young.
So I’m learning to parent myself.
To talk to that part of me the way I speak to Sofi when she’s tired or scared or overwhelmed.
Because maybe the trick isn’t silencing the noise, but recognizing who’s speaking—and answering them gently.
Self-validation. Ok.
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| This is the emotional support Totoro we all need |
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Here's more to unstructured randoms this week:
Parenting moment tested:
Sofi had a long day outdoors, but she came home with a sugar rush from our Tealive session. She was jumping up and down the sofa, making a mess, singing, dancing, and being her silly self. I was trying to write next to her (lol, nerd mom). I told her she could make all the mess she wanted, but she needed to clean it up herself — no help from me. Then she proceeded to make even more mess, and I kept reminding her of the rule over and over.
Fast forward to bedtime:
I told her to wrap it up, clean all the mess, and get ready to sleep.
She refused and started throwing a tantrum. (This rarely happens now that she's almost six.) But I knew she was tired, and she probably just needed to have her meltdown session — it had been a while.
So she wailed, "I'm too tired, Mami, too tired~" and the whole drama went on for about 10–15 minutes.
But I stood my ground.
I told her the rules beforehand — she chose to make the mess anyway — so the lesson I wanted her to understand was: we are responsible for the mess we choose to make, because no one is going to clean up after us. Of course, being six, she threw a full-blown tantrum lah. It became a power struggle between a six-year-old fireball and a tired Mami battling a migraine and period cramps.
Of course, if I wanted the easy way out, we could've left the mess for tomorrow and cleaned it up when we were refreshed. BUT, because I had reminded her so many times about the consequences, I chose to prove a point. I chose drama. 😎 I just sat there next to her, letting her wail, waiting for her to clean up. (Fire signs will always with their tantrums, and Earth signs will always stand firm, waiting for the drama to subside. I'm degil on that level — I can wait all night if needed.)
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| In this case, I am Sophie, and she is Calcifer |
Long story short:
She eventually cleaned up the mess while wailing (which was just putting back six zabuton in their place and all the throw cushions back on the sofa — that's all). After that, I comforted her and explained (a.k.a. membebel) what just happened and why she needs to be responsible for her own choices. Hah.
Explaining the concept of consequence and responsibility to a six-year-old is huge, but really important nonetheless.
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I'm pretty firm on certain values I believe in — so moments like this are golden.
It’s a chance for her to learn something important.
I don’t condone tantrums or letting her get spoiled, but I do give her space to feel her emotions and figure out how to manage them. Sometimes, she needs to "test the waters" with me — and yes, it triggers me too. But every time, both of us end up learning something new about ourselves.
Sure, I'm garang, but it's not for nothing.
There's always a reason behind the tough love ❤️
"you choose Sofi, you kemas, or you sleep with your mess" - tsk tsk kejam
My mom decided to host an open house — last minute, of course. I wasn't mentally ready for it because, hello, short notice... and I had just gotten back into my yoga classes last weekend. Spending a whole day at yoga, on the second day of my period, with a migraine, was already a heroic feat. Then having to socialize the next day — and assist at an open house I didn't even agree to — was a whole different beast. Just two days before that, I had spent the entire day at OWH assisting a workshop for AG. Basically, my battery was dead.
But... I survived. No pills, just sheer willpower and maybe the double-shot caffeine kicking in. Even though I was a bit lightheaded, I managed not to be a party-pooper (5 stars to me for the effort ✨).
The twist?
My mom invited a whole lineup of people from our past — and didn’t bother telling me who would be showing up. Instead of spiraling into anxiety over surprise reunions, I just kept an open mind and wore as much deodorant as humanly possible.
It’s been an interesting year.
For some reason, the universe has been putting people from my past right in front of me — like it's doing a cosmic spring cleaning. Dusting off old ties. Testing old connections. Seeing what still fits. There are a LOT of people from my past resurfing like crocodiles, and I'm just a bit, uncomfortable.
Now, I desperately need to recharge — preferably by swimming in silence (not in a murky water with that special floating suspicious log), vibing with time, and chillin' with E, doing assignments.
Happy Monday!
