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Brush Calligraphy | © Emily Ung 2016

So, today’s #thoughtpost is actually part of an application for Pulp (hello there editors), but please feel free to read on and wish me luck! 

Alright. So, trends.

When I think of “trends”, I think of “trendy” – what’s fashionable, what’s mainstream and what’s popular – what the current “in-thing” is. I think the typical mindset is that in order to fit in and be accepted by peers, one must conform to these trends to some extent – and aren’t we all guilty of that? Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about you – using all the latest social media apps, adding colourful slang to your vocabulary (because saying “yolo” and “get rekt” gives you so much swag?!) (I plead guilty), wearing a Daniel Wellington watch (so guilty), and carrying a Kanken bag (guilty again).

In saying that, I actually consider myself as someone who steers away from the mainstream – a person whose interests are vastly different from most, and someone who strives to be a unique individual. But now even the so-called ‘hipster’ things are becoming mainstream, and that makes me a little edgy. Methinks there should be a classification of “mainstream hipsters” and “hipster hipsters”, don’t you? 

I think underlying the trend following, fitting in and a conscious awareness of external perception and yearning for recognition is the instinctive desire to truly discover oneself. It’s so easy to be swayed by peer pressure and follow the mainstream to do what is considered to be “cool” – but don’t forget that it’s most important to do what makes you happy – trend or not. If reading a good book in the park makes you happy – you go do it. If going out with your mates for drinks makes you happy, you go have a good night out. If I like to wear a Daniel Wellington watch, or carry a Kanken bag because it suits me; if I like to write poetry and solve math equations – be damned sure that I will do it. There’s nothing wrong with following trends, or even going against the current, but don’t be afraid of being your own trendsetter.

(Trendsetting exhibit A: me (confidence is key) – so follow me on Instagram @emilyyyung for more trendsetting images and captions /hairflick/)

With love,

Emily.

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Photo by Jenny Lam

One year has changed my life more than three years ever could.

It’s always a bittersweet kind of nostalgia as yet another year comes to a close. It’s the point when you really feel the culmination of 365 days, and for some reason the year has brushed past you like a summer breeze. 

The cliché would be to say, “2015 was good, and here’s hoping for an even better 2016” – or something along those lines. But in truth, it’s just nothing like that for me this time. Rather, to sum it up, I have mixed emotions leaving the past year and entering into the next.  

To say that 2015 was arduous is a massive understatement – and those who have seen me through the past year know that I have stressed this point too many times. They also know first hand how weary I have grown, and just how much my being has crumbled; and I continue to fall victim to my own weakness as I try to piece together the truth and make peace with reality and myself.

Around a year and a month ago, I met the love of my life (yes, go on – say what you may), and since then I have been unlearning things about myself and the world I perceive. It would be unrealistic to say that I haven’t changed – but if I have, it hasn’t been much. My circumstances have changed more than anything.  

As with any other year, 2015 has also had its highlights – and so many ‘firsts’. In many ways I am extremely proud of my achievements (although not many) and the milestones I have reached – but largely disappointed in the choices I’ve made and hence the consequences that I’ve had to face. However, above all, I have been amazed by my strength. And although I have had to act against what I’ve stood for, I’ve mustered every bit of strength to endure the pain that is continually inflicted upon me. My experiences have both weakened and strengthened me – and there’s the irony.

I am most thankful for the people who have brought me happiness and helped me get through 2015 – friends who have stuck around, new friends whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, friends near and far, even strangers and acquaintances. Recycling words from one of my Instagram captions: I would not have survived 2015 without the most understanding family and friends – for holding me when I couldn’t stop crying; for countless pep talks and advice; for feeling indignant on my behalf; for putting up with the sadder side of me – and the odd stranger or acquaintance for outfit compliments and just making my day in small ways. It’s all in the little things – and believe me when I say I am infinitely grateful to everyone who has helped me pull through. Thank you for affirming my strength and giving me strength.

I know very well that everything I have here is on the Internet and open for everyone and anyone to see. From the get go I knew that Noise and Nuance wasn’t just going to be a straightforward portfolio for my photographs and poetry – no. Each image and carefully selected word would give you insight into my life. It was always going to be personal – everything has its nuance. My feelings are transparent through my words, and I make myself vulnerable by putting everything out there, but I have nothing to be ashamed of. You might be a friend of mine, or a friend of a friend, or we might have six degrees of separation between us – regardless, I thank you for taking time to read my words.

They say that a picture speaks a thousand words – and I think that’s because a picture speaks a few words to each person – everyone will have their own interpretation. The same applies to my poems and my photographs. Of course they’re open to interpretation and could entail a myriad of meanings. You might read it differently from what I intended it to mean, or I may have left it open-ended. The thing with pictures is that you only see the final image – what’s on the surface. You rarely see the build up of paint strokes that have taken to achieve the final effect, am I right? You might read my words and not understand the backstory or know any context – but it still might resonate with you in a different situation. My point basically is that there is no concrete answer or fixed meaning, and therefore there should not be assumptions. But I digress.

As I leave the past year with a heavy heart, I know with certainty that any year that comes at me now will be infinitely better than 2015. Thank you for your lemons 2015 (not really), but I really would love some oranges now. I know I still have so much to learn, so much maturing to do, and still the world for me to see. The road ahead still holds hope for me, and I will continue to hold tight to faith. Despite everything that has happened, I thank the universe for looking after me in the smallest and kindest of ways – for letting me know that my faith, heart and goodwill have not gone to waste (and have become good karma). I might be scarred, but I still choose to be optimistic and hopeful (or naïve and gullible).

I can never be ready for what comes my way –

All I can do is take it day by day.

Hello, 2016. Please, please be good xx.

With love,

Emily.

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Nikon F90 | Kodak Portra 400

Sometimes when I’m reading, I come across certain words or sentences, lines or paragraphs or stanzas that particularly move me. I often find myself in those moments where I really feel what an author or poet is trying to convey, and the emotion his or her words embody. It’s these magical moments that strike me as so sublime and uncanny – that a total stranger can put into words the thoughts I am unable to articulate. It’s an amazing way of affirming that your personal experiences and emotions aren’t all that taboo, and that you really aren’t alone (cliché as that may be). And that, to me, is so special – especially if said printed words on paper can move me to tears.

It’s not often that my own writing has that effect on me – because the process of composing requires time and thought, and already taps into my emotional chambers. However, with that said, this poem just doesn’t stop making my face wrinkle and my throat tighten. As with all my writing and poetry, I have to read it aloud because rhyme and rhythm are elements that I deem as essential. I imagine if I were to perform this piece, I would gradually pick up pace as I speak;

Tormented

I remember the first time

I caught a glimpse of you from the corner of my eye.

I was feeling nervous, and so scared,

But in my mind I thought to myself,

“Hey, he’s cute.”

Right there was where I stood,

Like a statue, but right at you –

On the opposite side of the counter.

I wish I wasn’t there, but I was relieved at the same time.

Right there was where we ate;

In those seats was where we sat,

Where we watched and where we laughed and

Where we leaned.

Right there was where we walked,

Where we sat down and where we talked –

That was where I couldn’t stop myself from falling;

Over and over.

Right there was where we hooked arms,

Where we held hands and where we were calm;

Where we shared everything,

Including our food.

Right there was where we took that photo,

Where we never wanted to let go.

Where we celebrated and where we made plans together

For the future.

Right there was where we lied under the stars –

Where we drank and where you parked your car.

Where I was convinced by your crocodile tears, those that

I couldn’t bear.

Right there was where I felt safe –

Where I was myself, and where I didn’t have to put on a fake face.

Where I took risks knowing that I

Would be ok.

Right there was where I was scared –

Where I feared for my life and where I cried tears.

Where I sat at a window seat and swallowed my sobs as I

Held onto faith.

Right there was where I was delusional –

Where I saw all sorts of illusions and where I was in denial.

Where I thought to myself, “Maybe

I still have a chance.”

Right there was where I slowed down –

Where I tried to hide and where I fell to the ground.

Where I felt my lungs deflate, and thought,

“Is this fate?”

Right there was where I stood out from the crowd –

Where I was on my knees and where I cried my eyes out.

Where I was sprawled between an illuminated orange road sign and

A glass wall.

Right there was where I wished we had never met – ever.

Where I hoped to wake up with amnesia,

Where I tired to eradicate those memories that made me,

Thinking, “if only.”

Right here is where I feel myself disintegrate –

Where my thoughts consume me and drive me crazy.

Where my optimism is beyond me, and I wonder,

“Is this ‘me’?”

Right now, you could still find me

On the street or in your memory –

Where we whispered secrets, and where there

Was no animosity.

Right now, I could be anywhere – I am somewhere

At the beginning, the middle, or the end;

Where I cannot recognise my surroundings, and I wish I wasn’t here,

But at the same time I am relieved (not really).

I thought I would be ok –

But my stomach knots and churns and

I genuinely feel sick – because this

Is where it hurts the most.

With love,

Emily.

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Nikon F90 | Fujifilm Superia 400

Love, Like This

You could but I couldn’t –

And that’s when it all started

To unfold.

We thought we would –

Elaborate ambitions

Of a far away land,

Of dates you planned.

I imagined we could

Live out these dreams

Each with our best friend.

A toasty burrito

In your embrace,

A muffin,

And a marshmallow face.

But then you quit and I couldn’t

Feel any less

Or comprehend reason.

I did but you didn’t

Have the willpower

To ignite a flame

Or come alive again.

You left – and left me lingering

In the past

You said

You would care no less.

I do but I don’t

Love you

And hate you the same.

I will but I won’t

Wish you were mine again.

I may very well never know what ‘love’ is – what is means or what it constitutes. Like many other things, ‘love’ is one I will never fully understand, but will still try my best to feel my way through.

‘Love’ has always been a concept that perplexes me – obviously something I’ve analysed and considered countless times. It’s ironic because ‘love’ always surrounds us in its many forms, but we don’t realise it a lot of the time. It’s funny because you can’t exactly define ‘love’, and there exists a myriad of interpretations and cultural perceptions. But, although it can be a beautiful thing, of all ambiguous and pretentious institutions, the most controversial one might just be ‘Love’. You really never know – how do you? Can you?

The relationship between ‘love’ and family greatly intrigues me. It’s a given that you ‘love’ your family, right? You were born into this world, cared for by your parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and anyone who picked you up into their arms. You couldn’t speak or understand most things, but you had eyes to see and a heart so you could feel – you probably didn’t even know who these strange people were, or what ‘family’ meant. But, when you were old enough to recognise ‘love’, they were the first people you said you ‘loved’ – regardless of how they looked, how they talked a little too much, how they chewed too loudly, how they would always mispronounce words, or how all these things would annoy you – you would still ‘love’ them unconditionally. You might live across seas or continents from your family, or may have never met them before, but love them you would – because they’re family. You might have new cousins you have never met, but you love them already. You might have distant relatives whom you’ve never seen before, or didn’t even know existed, but you love them. Maybe this is what noble love is?

I wonder why this kind of ‘love’ can’t be omnipresent – if we are all capable of that form of ‘love’, why can’t it transcend all borders? Why do we discriminate? Why do we judge? Why can’t we embrace and overlook flaws? Why can’t we love without barriers? Why don’t we try?

Although, what I know about ‘love’ has now made me a part-time skeptic – and coming from an optimist and someone who’s always able to find silver lining – that’s kind of depressing.

“I don’t know if what we had was love, but if it wasn’t, I hope never to fall in love. Because of you, I know I am too fragile to bear it.”

- An excerpt from ‘For you’ by Lang Leav

I’ve constantly been bombarded by the truth that love is a choice. Whether or not you believe in fate or soul mates, there really is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ – what there is though, is a choice to ‘love’ another for who they are; a choice to make a mutual effort to maintain a relationship (be it friendship, romantic relationships or familial bonds); a choice to fight for something you believe worth keeping – and that belief, or otherwise, is perpetuated by a sprouting thought; a belief you must hold on tight to with utmost willpower.

Someone once told me that, “Nothing in this world that’s worth having comes easy” (it was a quote from Scrubs). I’ve always remembered this ever since, simply because it emphasises an existential fact – that giving up or making excuses, or taking the easy way out will cause you to lose the people or things that were/are/could be valuable or important to you.

I’m also aware and invested in the idea that a person should love him- or herself first before they can commit to loving others – to be comfortable being alone (not lonely) and independent; to have the ability to find intrinsic happiness that stems from within. Your happiness shouldn’t be dependent on someone else. Like ‘love’, I believe happiness is also a choice. It’s your choice to be happy, by making decisions and having a mindset that will beget happy thoughts and therefore ideas. A very wise fortune cookie once told me,

“Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life.”

And of course this process was never meant to be easy or happen in an instant – you always hear people mention ‘the pursuit of happiness’ – but that doesn’t deter them from their so-called search. It seems like happiness and love have become the ultimate goals in life; the purpose in which we live for (in some cases people aim to be rich and famous which probably brings them happiness, so I guess that’s the same).

Choice

If I were to choose one thing never to lose again,

Above anything else,

I would choose myself.

(Then choose you – who knows)

I guess what I’m trying to put forward is this: Love (and happiness) can be simple, but not easy – much like how you can set out certain steps in achieving something, but it doesn’t mean these steps will be easy to accomplish. Or, like how you know where you want to be, but you don’t know how to get there.

There’s a certain saying that I have come to believe in:

“Let Live, Let Love.”

I’m not sure if I heard this from somewhere or someone, or conjured it up on my own because of my tendency to alliterate – but either way it has stuck with me (you may remember I ended off my first post with this quote). Initially, I liked it because it was catchy. It wasn’t until sometime last year that I realised what it really meant to me: that I should let life be, and simply let love be. I was reminded to let nature take it’s course, to let life unfold, and to let things be. It cemented the idea that some things can’t be forced, and that I should stop trying too hard (because let’s be honest – I always try too hard). Life, love, and happiness – they shouldn’t have to be too complicated, but that’s not saying you can avoid trying or making a conscious effort all together.

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

- William Shakespeare, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’

With love also comes loss in one of its various forms – it could be gradually drifting apart, a sudden halt, or the eventual “till death do us part”. Loss never is pleasant or easy, but acceptance comes eventually and there is always hope. Another wise fortune cookie has also told me that,

“What appeared to be a loss will turn out in your favour.”

You must be thinking, “Did she really get these fortunes from cookies?”

To that I say, “Yes. Yes I did.”

I still have these fortunes on paper as proof – it really did happen. Twice. I know, pretty amazing. 

I’ve recently been introduced to the wonderful world of spoken word poetry, and this poem in particular really touched me with its resounding relevance. If you’re like me and get hooked onto wanting to watch more, make sure you check out more of Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye’s work, as well as Harry Baker (he’s got a mathematics degree, writes poetry, and he’s so funny)! Or, if you had to pick just one to watch, you need to watch this one.

Finally, I hope my scattered thoughts are somewhat comprehensible and this post wasn’t too much of a torture to read. Thank you for appreciating my thoughts and opinions for what they are – it’s totally subjective and is in no way factual or should it be taken as a generalisation of what other people think.

Thank you for stopping by xx

L’amour, ça fait faire de grandes choses

With love,

Emily.

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Mother

Dear Mother, I wonder

What is it that you think of when you look at me?

Do you still worry and ponder;

Or are you filled with hope and wonder?

I wonder what you see when you look into my eyes –

Do you see sparkling seas raging within a carefree child;

Tiredness trying to be kept at bay;

Or a world of sadness you wish you could take away?

I wonder what you think of when you watch me walk –

Do you think of how tall I’ve grown?

Do you like the woman I’ve become;

Or are you disappointed in more ways than one?

I wonder what would go through your mind

When you realise I still love a man I shouldn’t;

When you find out I sulk myself to sleep;

If you knew the secrets I keep so deep.

I wonder what you would feel,

When one day I walk out the front door;

When I turn twenty-one or twenty-four –

Will you have learned to let me go?

Mother, I wonder why –

Why the world is so unkind;

Why I wasn’t taught to love or to let go;

Why do people treat me so?

I wonder why I always fall before I fail;

Why I wasn’t taught love does not prevail?

And I wonder, when one day Father will walk me down the aisle;

My dress will be longer than tower Eiffel;

With my hair up and makeup done;

Do you think my daughter will like her mum?

With love,

Emily.