The Wish to Be Beautiful

A Reflection on Beauty as a Woman

There’s this beautiful actress whose beauty mesmerizes every time she appears on screen. Whenever I see her, I find myself wishing to be more beautiful too. As a woman, the desire for beauty feels universal. Of course, beauty itself has many layers.

The first layer is physical beauty. Few of us are born with features that captivate at first glance, yet we can all make the most of what we have. There's awe in seeing a woman of natural allure, a testament to divine artistry. There is equal respect and admiration for the woman who may not be as naturally endowed but cultivates her best self with intention and care.

The next layer is emotional beauty—the poetry of how we move through the world as women. It’s in the beauty of embracing our emotions fully, in the way we speak, listen, and feel. Our femininity carries its own rhythm, one that defies logic yet makes perfect sense - a mystery both delicate and profound.

Picture a woman running freely through a forest, brimming with inexplicable joy. She smells the flowers, listens to the songs of the birds, and befriends the little creatures around her. We don't need to understand her happiness; we simply feel it, and in that shared moment, her joy becomes ours. This is the power of emotional beauty.

Still, beauty is more than looks and feelings. A truly beautiful woman also possesses a beautiful mind. This isn't merely about intellect, which can be impressive but detached. True beauty of mind is rooted in character: kindness, patience, compassion, and forgiveness. In essence, it's selfless, seeking to serve a greater good than itself.

Finally, we arrive at the pinnacle of beauty: the soul. Unlike our looks, emotions, or thoughts, the soul is intangible. Its beauty shines through our essence—our identity in God. The Bible reminds us that "Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." 

At the heart of it all, everything born of love is inherently beautiful. Our soul, at its core, is love itself. To love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love others as ourselves is the ultimate expression of beauty.

I began with the wish to be beautiful. Now, I see that longing in a new light: I want nothing more than to love—to love God and to love others as I love myself. In doing so, beauty reveals it truest form. 

For in loving fully, we become most beautiful.

Tired Mind, Clearer Thoughts

My mind feels too tired to think today.

The administrative nature of my daytime work is energy draining. The tasks themselves aren't difficult—they don't require deep analysis—but my brain isn't naturally wired for this kind of work. As a result, I end up feeling mentally exhausted, even without a strong sense of productivity.

This weariness feels different from the fatigue that follows when you put in a lot of effort to come up with something original, creative or insightful. That kind of tiredness comes with a sense of satisfaction, a sense that something inside you has expanded. Administrative work, however, feels more like completing chores. You're glad they're done, but the primary reward is simply the relief of being able to move on.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to complain about my work. There are other aspects of it that are challenging and rewarding, such as managing people. To be more precise, it's not the management I enjoy so much as the opportunity to observe human nature up close, which never fails to fascinate me. I can feel disappointed, frustrated, and annoyed with the same person I also appreciate and admire. Sometimes I feel conflicted by these contradictory emotions, but time and experience has taught me that they are entirely normal. I no longer try to fit people into boxes of "good" or "bad." They are simply human, and adopting this mindset has helped me become more accepting and kinder to myself. If I can forgive others, I can forgive myself.

This brings me to a key insight about forgiveness: I've found that most people are aware when they aren't being their best selves. This becomes clear when you can overcome the impulse to accuse or defend. You don't have to even respond with kindness; you simply need to calmly show that you're unhappy with their actions without casting judgment. You become a witness to their humanness. Of course, this is much easier said than done. It's immensely difficult to set aside your own discomfort to make space for someone else's growth. I've failed at this more often than I've succeeded, but each success builds a little more confidence and trust —in both myself and in others.

This train of thought leads me to a realization: perhaps the key to managing people more effectively is to have greater control over yourself. In essence, if you can manage yourself well, others will follow.

What has your experience been?

The Pain of Rejection

Why Rejection is Not a Bad Thing

When we hear the word rejection, it often brings a wave of sadness, pain, and in some cases, even shame. It triggers that harsh and critical inner voice that whispers, “See? I told you you weren’t good enough.”

I don’t remember exactly how many times I have heard that inner voice, but I can tell you that just writing these words brings tears to my eyes. Rejection, even as a memory, evokes emotions that are both raw and powerful.

One of the reasons the pain of rejection cuts so deeply is because at our core, we all crave to be loved, accepted, and valued for who we are. When we are rejected, the human instinct is to believe that the opposite must be true - there must be something fundamentally wrong with us. After all, we know our own flaws, insecurities and imperfections better than anyone else. So when someone comes along and says no to us, its easy to jump to the conclusion we fear the most: not only that we aren’t good enough, but that we never will be. That belief can feel soul-crushing.

I’m not saying that this interpretation is correct, but it is a common and very human response.

Once we understand why rejection hurts, we can question whether our fears are rooted in truth. One effective way to do this is to flip the perspective and recall a time when we were the ones doing the rejecting - maybe a job applicant, a date or even a friendship that didn’t feel right. On the surface, we might reason that the other person was “not the right fit”, but if we examine our thoughts more closely, we will realize our decision rarely had anything to do with their worth. Instead, it was a personal choice based on our own needs, desires, timing or circumstances. In other words, rejection is personal for the person making the choice, but it seldom reflects the inherent value of the person being rejected.

Every one of us will experience rejection in some way or form, sometimes painfully, especially if it is from the people or opportunities we wanted most. But what if the purpose of rejection is not to wound us, but to re-direct us? Perhaps, we should re-frame rejection not as a verdict on our worth, but as a compass. It doesn’t mark us as unworthy or unlovable; it is simply helping us re-calibrate our path toward the people and opportunities that are truly meant for us.

In the end, rejection will never feel good. It hurts because it touches the most tender, core parts of our being. But the pain from rejection is also a hidden gift. Every rejection teaches us more about who we are and what we truly value.

We should have faith that ultimately, it will bring us to a place of real joy and fulfillment!

A Community made Kinder by our Furry Friends

My brother has a super good-natured dog, and I get the privilege of looking after him whenever my brother and sister-in-law travel. My "dogphew" is incredibly agreeable—patient, emotionally stable, and best of all, he rarely ever barks!

When he was younger, we found his quietness a little unusual that I once wondered, just for a second in my head, if he might be mute. The very moment that thought crossed my mind, he let out a clear, loud bark. I immediately apologized for ever doubting him! Of course he could bark; he just didn't feel the need to most of the time. I can't tell you how much we appreciate this trait. Whenever I hear other dogs barking, I feel even more grateful for his calm presence. It’s not that barking is bad, but from a human's perspective, having a peaceful dog feels like a rare gift.

Caring for him has made me notice something else. Aside from a few neighbors in my building, I barely know anyone in my neighborhood. People in my city tend to be wary of strangers. If you approached someone and asked their name, they might be shocked or even suspicious that you have some ulterior motive in mind. But I’ve found that this isn’t an issue when it comes to getting to know dogs.

You can always start a conversation with an owner by asking about their dog. Most are more than happy to share details. Over time, I’ve come to know more dogs in my area than people. I’ve even befriended a few. I genuinely love these dogs, and I can tell from their body language and facial expressions that the feeling is mutual.

Sometimes, I wonder why it’s so easy to develop such unconditional love for our furry friends, while it feels so much harder with our human companions? Is it because dogs never judge or expect anything from us other than to share the joy of the present moment?

I have also noticed that while I make an effort to know the dogs, I don't try to get to know their owners as much. Maybe I assume they wouldn’t want the attention turned on them, or perhaps, in that moment, the dog feels like the most natural common ground between us.

Anyway, the main point I wanted to make is: interacting with these furry friends has brought me so much pure joy. I really want to thank them for being part of our community. They make the world a less lonely place to be in!

Tidying the Wardrobe of the Mind

Why I Write My Thoughts Down

I have found that documenting my thoughts in real-time is an amusing task. My mind is often a scattered landscape of ideas. The simple act of writing them down helps me untangle the mess, and in doing so, I often surprisingly stumble upon answers to questions that I have been wrestling with. Without putting pen to paper, these thoughts remain as a bunch of disconnected data points—I have all the facts but fail to see the bigger picture.

This reminds me of my wardrobe. I own many dresses, but I sometimes forget about the ones stored away or buried beneath a pile. By tidying my wardrobe on a regular basis, I can see everything I own clearly. In the same way, I write to tidy my thoughts, making them visible and comprehensible.

When I revisit what I have written, I see each entry as a snapshot of my mind in motion—often just a glimpse of what could be explored further. The purpose of my writing is not to thoroughly examine every facet of a topic and deliver a well-researched conclusion—many excel at that far better than I could. Instead, I want to share with you my real-time thought process. Think of it as a LIVE broadcast from the depths of my consciousness. If I didn't write these thoughts down, I would have silently pondered them for awhile only to forget them just as quickly. What a waste of potential that is!

I know many people prefer to gather facts, analyze them thoroughly, and reach a logical conclusion. But from a young age, I have found that I care less about the conclusion itself and more about exploring the "whys" and the myriad possibilities. The benefit is that when I finally do reach a conclusion, I seldom regret it, having already wandered through every possible scenario. The conclusion then feels not just logical, but unequivocal. The downside is that this requires immense patience. A more logical observer might have reached the same conclusion far more quickly and efficiently.

I sometimes wish I could organize my thoughts in such a neat, linear way instead of leaping from one thought to the next. But my brain isn't wired that way, and I've learned I can't force a change in my nature. I am who I was created to be. It is only by writing as my authentic, imperfect self that I hope you, the reader, might encounter a real person and find the courage to embrace your own unique way of seeing the world.

I hope that within this rambling, you find a thought or two that resonates with you!

The Liberation of a Sigh of Relief

Embracing Your True Self

One of our deepest human needs is to be seen as our true selves. In theory, this should be our greatest pride and joy — we are all unique, with our own strengths, quirks, and vulnerabilities. However, in reality, it seems that we are not able to enjoy that freedom as much as we might hope.

Most of us have chosen, at some point, to wear a mask instead. Setting aside the times when such a mask might be necessary, we often choose the mask out of a fundamental fear that we will not be accepted for who we truly are.

When I reflected more deeply about this, I’ve come to realize that this has a lot to do with our own inability to accept our own weaknesses and vulnerabilities. To be truly authentic requires immense self-acceptance. We must learn to sit with the discomfort of our limitations, our circumstances and the darker corners of our nature. This is a daunting and unpleasant task. It is far easier to blame something or someone else than to take full responsibility for our perfectly imperfect selves.

So, if the fear of being true is rooted in the fear of our own imperfections, is pretending to be perfect a viable solution?

It seems so in the short-run. If we manage to keep the interactions on a superficial level, people may believe the facade. But human beings are incredibly intuitive. We can sense, deep down, whether we are being appreciated for who we are, or for the performance we give. The thrill of the admiration is as intoxicating as it is fleeting, quickly replaced by the hollow reminder that we are not the person they see.

This leaves us with a stark choice: keep the mask on and accept a life of shallow, lonely connections, or take it off and reveal ourselves. Choosing the latter means braving the temporary discomfort of our own perceived inadequacies for the ultimate reward: the chance to be truly known, appreciated, and loved for who we truly are.

Logically, the better path is clear. Emotionally, it requires a leap of faith. Since we cannot control another’s perception, the risk of rejection—or worse, humiliation—is always real. However, the deeply satisfying realization that we are finally safe - not because we are hidden, but simply because we are is profoundly liberating and fulfilling. It is the moment we can finally let out that deep sigh of relief, feeling entirely and unapologetically safe and secure in being our true selves!

This is just a brief and surface-level exploration of a vast topic. I’d love to hear your insights, perspectives and experiences.

The Lottery of Thought

The Gift of Sincere Communication

A sense of wonder follows me as I write. I’m on the MTR, heading home after work, wondering what thought will emerge from my mind today. It’s like watching a lottery on TV, waiting for the balls to drop—that same sense of anticipation. What thought will land?

Today, a lunch conversation with a friend touched upon an interesting theme: the human spirit’s fierce resistance to coercion. We instinctively rebel against being forced into a decision, even if it’s one we might have made freely. A feeling of discomfort instantly arises whenever we feel pressured to concede to someone else’s reality. I know this feeling well. I’ve felt the quiet annoyance of a pushed "yes," and I’ve also been the one doing the pushing.

I once developed genuine feelings for a man. Instead of simply telling him my feelings, I resorted to silly, stupid devices to coax him into asking me out. When that failed, my fear of rejection conjured an even worse plan: I would engineer a scenario where he couldn’t refuse under the guise of "friendship." My rationale was twisted—he might not want me as a romantic partner, but he couldn't possibly reject my offer of friendship, right?

It was insincere, dishonest, and stupid.

The plan backfired spectacularly. Probably to let me down gently, he offered a lame excuse and a hollow promise. Trust shattered, and we haven’t spoken since. I deleted his contact, not out of anger—I still look back fondly on our natural, unforced moments together—but because it was my first honest act after the whole charade. I refused to play pretend any longer. The ending was bad, but the happy times were real; the bad doesn't have to cancel out the good.

This memory contrasts sharply with another. Once, a man expressed with unshakable certainty in public that he liked me very much. At the time, his directness was so foreign that I felt confused. I wondered what he meant. Now I understand - it is a gift!

Liking someone is natural. It requires no immediate action, no forced outcome. The real courage—the most liberating and loving act—is to state that feeling as a simple matter of fact.

I should have just told that guy, “Hey, I really miss you. I’m coming to your city soon; let’s meet up,” and left it at that. It’s not about wishing for a different ending to our story, but for a version of myself who had the courage to be honest. I would have liked and respected her so much more.

Hello!

It’s been a long, long while since I’ve written anything.

I created this blog as a space to share my thoughts and feelings—to connect with people who might relate, or even those who don’t. What matters most is honesty, as long as you’re true to yourself, then it’s all good!

If you happen to stumble upon this little corner of the internet, I’d love to hear from you. Please tell me a bit about yourself. I’m really curious about you, reader of this blog!

I must admit that I am not a very good writer. I’m simply typing what comes to mind, so my thoughts might not be very coherent. But they are genuine, so please bear with me.

Since this is my first post, I don’t have a specific topic in mind. Or rather, I have too many things I want to write about and haven’t quite decided where to begin. Maybe I’ll start by telling you a little about myself.

When I think of introductions, the usual questions that come to my mind are: Where am I from? How old am I? What do I do? But even if I answered those, you’d still know very little about me. Worse, you might form an image of me that I’d laugh if I heard it.

So instead of facts, let me share a few thoughts with you.

On Age

If age wasn’t measured by the way humans count time—or if our bodies never aged—I’d tell you that deep down, I feel very young. Not in the way our society defines youth, but in the sense of being ageless.

That feeling is liberating. It’s as if time is limitless, and we’re forever playing, learning, evolving into better versions of ourselves.

I mean, how can a number ever capture who you’ve become?

Where Are You From?

Growing up, this was always a difficult question for me.

I was born in one city.
My parents were born in another.
We immigrated to a third.
I lived between all three.  

I speak the languages perfectly.

I feel as if I belong to all and none at the same time.

What Do You Do?

This one is trickier.

After university, when I could no longer call myself a student, I struggled to explain what I "do." Deep down, I felt my work wasn’t a good representation of who I really am. Or rather, unless I explained why I did it, people wouldn’t understand me in the right way.

Once, at a museum, a staff member asked if I was a student.
"No," I said, "I’m working."
She smiled and replied, "Oh, of course you are. You’re a student of life."

I thought that felt so right.
That’s exactly how I want to be known.

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So Here We Are

I haven’t given you any concrete facts, but, perhaps you know me a little better now than if I had.

That’s all for today. More to come…