This video made me cry, but I’m so thankful I watched it. When the coach of the Thunderbirds said he was prepared to lose to let Mitchell have his shot, I cried. When the supporters on the stand chanted Mitchell’s name, I cried. When Jonathan, the guy who passed the ball to Mitchell to let him have his shot, I cried. When Mitchell finally had his shot, and was surrounded by so many people who were so happy for him, I cried.
I’m so thankful I watched this, because it taught me so much. It taught me that although there are bullies and people who hurt other people, there are also these amazing, kind-hearted, selfless people. In this video, I saw that people don’t really care about your disability or your flaw. And when Jonathan said that he was taught to treat people like how he wanted to be treated, I realised that that was what everyone should do. Treat people the way you want to be treated.

P.S. I’m sorry if this is incoherent. I’m just so overwhelmed by how much I can learn everyday from a simple action from an ordinary but extraordinary person.



While boarding the bus back from an interview for a History project, a Caucasian lady, carrying her newborn, extremely adorable, sleeping baby and a paper bag, and an elderly lady boarded. The bus driver immediately got out of the driver’s compartment, and asked politely for two young ladies to stand up and give up their seats (which were priority seats) to them. And of course they obliged. I think most of the people around them were watching as this scene unfolds, myself included, and I couldn’t help but smile at the graciousness the bus driver (and of course the two cooperative ladies) showed. I was just so happy and touched and heartened by what I saw. I wanted to say something to show my admiration or appreciation to that bus driver, but was at a loss of what to say, so I decided to make it a point to write this beautiful moment down in my blog/journal. To this amazing man, merci beaucoup(thank you very much).
Shortly after, a group of rambunctious teenaged boys boarded, in jerseys and high spirits. Through the journey, some of them attained seats at the back whereas some remained in the front. Two boys managed to sit on two priority seats, and I immediately judged them. I was internally criticizing them for being so ungracious (even though there was no one in great need of those seats). But when one elderly man boarded, they immediately stood back up and said, “Er Uncle, you can sit.” And immediately, all my criticism directed towards them vanished without a trace. I smiled again. And even though they went to sit on the engine (I think) afterwards although it wasn’t really meant for sitting, I didn’t have the heart to judge and criticise them. As Gretchen Rubin wrote, “Cut people some slack.” For all I know, they might have just came back from a soccer practice, and their feet were aching. Thank you to this two boys. You made me learn to think before I judge, and I’m glad I witnessed your actions.
In a short span of 20 minutes, I witnessed two powerful moments, and the world seemed brighter… (Okay who was I kidding?) The world remained the same brightness, but I felt lighter, happier. And I’m thankful for it.
I’m also thankful that I am loved by my parents and brother and helper and my family, and that my parents cared enough to ferry me from one place to another. I know I don’t show my gratitude or love often (it may even seem nonexistant, giving the fact I’m a grumpy cold-blooded person), but that doesn’t mean I’m not thankful. I am. I’m also thankful for all that I have, especially the chance to read and possess The Happiness Project. Gretchen Rubin is amazing.


Thoughts on The Happiness Project

In The Happiness Project’s chapter of July, Gretchen mentioned “Spend out!” as one of her resolutions of the month. This made me realise how alike Gretchen and I are, in terms of characteristics. She’s an under buyer, a “satisficer” and a “maximiser”. I am, too. I like to calculate and compare prices and criteria of things and see which is most worth it.
But after reading that chapter, I realise that I, too, want to “spend out”. I like to hoard things because I don’t want to waste it and I want to keep it for some other time in the future (which probably will never ever come). Or I don’t like to buy things, because well I want to wait for something better, that might or might not come. But now, I want to change this. I want to spend out.
I’m not really meaning buying anything I want or doing anything I want on a whim, but I definitely want to stop hoarding things. I want everything to be more organized in my life, so that I can be in control of one aspect in my life, even if the rest (such as school) is falling apart. I think it’ll give me a sense of security.
I’m also going to keep a happiness and gratitude journal (which I learnt from the chapter of August). I’m going to post things that made my happy, or things I’m thankful for on this blog. And through this I want to take note of all those happy moments, be it little moments or large ones, and be more grateful, and through this be more satisfied with my life and learn to forget all my troubles. I hope this will help.

I think, Gretchen Rubin is my spiritual teacher.

Thoughts on The Happiness Project


I’m still in the midst of The Happiness Project. It’s taking so long because of school work and block tests, but now I’m finally realizing that I can squeeze in so much reading even in a hectic day. It’s amazing how happy I am everyday because I can finally read and not just wish to read.

So Gretchen Rubin mentioned in her book (chapter of May) about the “sadness of a happiness project” she felt after realizing that what she is passionate about limits her from doing other things the world has to offer, because she won’t be able to appreciate or enjoy them as much.

First, I am pretty sure I know what I like to do for fun. Gretchen took some time to figure that out, but I think, as a thirteen-year-old, I got that figured out. I like to read. I like to take photographs. I like to read blogs that blog about books, photography, musicals, movies and school. I like to watch musicals. I like to watch movies. I like to think. I like to explore things individually.

Of course, all these might change as I mature and grow older, but I am 85% certain that I would still be who I am now twenty years later. Gretchen’s friend has said, ““What you enjoyed as a ten-year-old is probably something you’d enjoy now.” Change the ten-year-old to thirteen, and there you have it.

Of course, I feel the sadness too. I’m sure everyone will or have felt it while growing up.

The realisation didn’t strike me so vividly. I think it crept up to me and I learnt to accept it. I realised I would never be able to be a forensic scientist, because as much as I enjoy biology, I’m not passionate about it. I realised I would never be a dancer, because I’m not flexible and I’m clumsy and not graceful and elegant. I realised I would never be good at table tennis, or tennis, or badminton, or swimming. And sometimes I wish I was different. Sometimes I wish I was not me, and I could be someone else. Someone I define as perfect or ideal.

But sometimes I think, “Who cares about perfection or ideality?” I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I actually like being myself. I’m proud of being me.

Once, my mother asked me if I wanted to wax off my bikini line (a line of thin hair down my body) and I asked, “What for?” She said so I could wear a bikini and people won’t see the bikini line. But I told her that it was not as if I was going to wear a bikini in the future. The future is unpredictable, yes, but I’m very sure I’m not going to wear a bikini so often I have to get rid of something that isn’t hindering anything. I’m pretty sure ten years from now, I would still rather curl up in my room to sleep, read, blog or watch some musical or movie for the hundredth time.

I probably will not be a forensic scientist, a dancer or an athletic, but i will be who i was meant to be. To sum up today’s post, I’ll leave a quote by a commenter on Gretchen’s blog who wrote,
“One day—I was about 34 years old—it dawned on me: I can DO ANYTHING I want, but I can’t DO EVERYTHING I want.