I’m prone to believe that minds change the world. Real life example: the 5-minutes-more mental note on any morning in bed projects a time lapse that you wish to replicate on an awkward Tinder date. Then when the alarm clock beeps again 25 minutes later, my eyes widely open like a sloth listening to jokes, or like Hong Kong people witnessing the shrinkage of the size of property*, I rush out to meetings/gatherings/airport, looking exactly like I-woke-up-like-this and somehow, arrive on time. Fortunate, I know, just as my mom would comment on my luck to coming home dry with an umbrella-free bag on a rain-forecasted day. Why so surprised mom? I wanted it that way.
Stay, kids, I promise I am getting back on track.
Valentine’s Day is complicated. It’s so complicated that experts in every field wave their hands to brainfreezed lovers offering their sincere help from a professional perspective (yes, even career advisors give lecture on ‘in-office jealousy’ and ‘corporate V-day outfit ideas’ which I came across the other day on TV), all the while fast-food articles and your relatives (always the relatives) manoeuvre single individuals into the realisation of the so-called abnormality (still) in the social circle. That is sad, to join the masses for a standard definition of happiness, which no one should know better than yourself and your partner, and for the guaranteed approvals on social media, which probably excites you more than the damn overpriced dinner.
So, on the countdown for another year of one of the most successfully marketed celebrations, I turn myself into a walking billboard, in the name of the law of attraction, advertising my search of the partner-in-crime to put my word into action: Feb 14 is just another day of the year. Because right now, I am just an armchair strategist, reading MZ’s book, mumbling I want it that way.
PHOTOGRAPHY – HONG HIU CHING
I’m wearing – Zara colour block maxi dress | Denim jacket (vintage)
*The smallest property for sale now is a hundred something sq feet. WTF.