When I went on a marathon of interviews in the final week of May, there was one question I dreaded. And no, it wasn’t the “tell me about yourself” or the “where do you see yourself in five years” or even the “what is your weakness?” inquiry.
Though through interviews I found out my weakness. I found out that I was always in a state of unease and debate whenever the question of family popped up. Questions like “so do you live with your family?” is one instance but the one question I dread the most is “so what do your parents do? Are they still working? Are they retired?” Continue Reading
TRIGGER WARNING: This post talks about prescription medicine and will touch heavily on pills. If you feel uncomfortable about such topics, please do not read any further.
This is the second part of writing about my journey of being prescribed mental health medication, you can read part 1 here.
Currently, I’m almost three months in consuming whatever’s been prescribed to me and I’m treating this post as a progress update and to somewhat address my initial thoughts on prescription medicine that I wrote about in the previous part.
Classify me as a bookworm or one of those people who have hobbies that are a snooze fest, but I love reading. It may have started with Peter and Jane and transitioned to Enid Blyton and went to an embarrassing hopeless romantic (read: deplorable) phase of Nicholas Sparks and even the “football literature” phase with works from Sid Lowe and Stefan Szymanski. But soon I found my cup of tea when it came to books: Haruki Murakami.
Anyone who knows me well is aware that I’m a self-confessed Murakami snob, a moniker I take seriously. So far, I’ve read nine of his works. I loved the idea of meeting a Sheep Man who tells you to dance, the ability to talk to cats, having a parallel universe with two moons or when your brain is circuited to the end of the world. Oh, and not to forget all those times you had a friend named “Rat” that you had to track within three books, completely unrelated to each other. What a dystopian literature dream!
forbidden wonderful worlds of Haruki Murakami!
See, told ya I take the term “Murakami Snob” seriously. I got carried away. Soz.
The purpose of writing this post is to explore the art of book hoarding and how anxiety plays a role (yea, if you’re in my shoes anxiety plays a role in everything). Continue Reading
I first heard the term maladaptive behavior during my first therapy session. My therapist claims I have maladaptive behavior after I told her about my first semester at university, abroad *shudders*. Back in my first semester at State, I found it hard to find a sense of belonging, it took me awhile to find a group of friends, fellow club members and part-time work colleagues who made me feel loved and appreciated.
To me, maladaptive behaviour means the inability to adapt to something foreign. Well, like all of other things, Wikipedia has a more in depth definition which you can find here.
I recently realized I practice maladaptive behavior as a football fan.