I forgot how much I used to love exploring new places on foot.

In my last year of high school, I skipped school a lot and just wandered around for the most part, going wherever the path took me. Sometimes I’d just walk until I found a park or the beach, sometimes I’d catch the bus to one of the main parts of town; whatever I wanted. I just wandered.

Anyway, I went to the beach today but instead of going to my usual spot to soak up some sun, I went in the opposite direction on what ended up being a loooong ass walk. I ended up detouring off of the beach, going through a tunnel, onto a boardwalk I’d never known about before and (at some point) climbed up a cliff to get a higher view of the beach.

I know it doesn’t sound that interesting when I put it like that but it reminded me of how much I love exploring new places (I just don’t do it often anymore because no one I know really wants to go exploring the way I do and I feel super weird going to more popular places alone). I don’t know how to fully explain it. Whenever I go exploring, I get all excited about what’s up ahead or finding new places/other routes. It’s like that kiddy kind of excitement where you want to run ahead of everyone else because you just can’t wait. I’m just so in awe of everything and caught up in the moment that I can’t hide my excitement.

I just feel like I can lose myself for a few hours and enjoy the moment. For me, it’s like being a kid again and going on an adventure around the playground except this time the whole world’s your playground. ❤



Whenever I see someone eating alone at a restaurant, I always feel sorry for them because they’re alone. We all know that there are over a thousand reasons why they could be eating by themselves and it’s not always bad but I’m pretty sure most of our brains usually narrow it down to, “awh, they wanted to have a nice dinner out but had no one to go with so they went alone.”

I’m always so torn between starting a conversation with them (or at least giving them a quick smile if they’re too far away) or just completely leaving them alone! I really want to talk to them incase they’re lonely and would actually love to have a nice conversation with someone but I also don’t want to interrupt them or bother them incase they genuinely want to be left alone. I’m also an awkward mothertrucker so I feel like conversations just wouldn’t flow well with me and I’m just horrible in general when it comes to starting them.

It’s usually older people too and I can’t help but think that either most of their friends have passed away/grown apart or their families have just all gone their seperate ways (or both), leaving them alone for most of the year until the holidays roll around and it just makes me sad seeing things like this. 😢

Obviously it’s not always because they’re lonely but it just breaks my heart!


Mum and I were talking in the car before when out of nowhere she asked whether or not I had a boyfriend. I told her the truth, that I don’t, but also asked her why she thought that. Apparently, it’s because I’ve been going out a lot more than usual and sometimes at different hours of the day (like early in the morning/later at night).

Oh my god, I laughed to myself so hard when she told me this (and then cried a little on the inside 😅) because it’s so far from the truth.

I don’t have a boyfriend that I’ve been going out to see nor has my social life gotten any busier. The truth is; I get really bored sitting at home all day and like my personal space/time alone (which is sometimes hard to get at home) so I either go out to places alone or, for the most part, just go for really long drives to absolutely nowhere because I’m that bored. I just want to get away from everyone for a while. Plus, I love driving early in the morning/late at night because there’s almost no traffic so it’s like you have the roads to yourself. Either that or I’m actually just out with friends.

To be fair though, instead of telling her I’m just going out for a drive, I tell her that I’m going out to see a friend/friends because I don’t want everyone to know that I’m actually just out wasting petrol with my boredom.

But the woman wouldn’t believe me when I told her that there was no guy in my life and now she thinks that I’m hiding my “boyfriend” from the family! So I’ve started playing along with it now just for the laughs.

I mean, a guy would be great right about now instead of just using up car fuel but such is life. Don’t worry mum, your dream come true for me will happen one day… just not today. 😝


This morning, I went to pick mum up from the airport as she was flying in from overseas but when I actually got there, she was nowhere to be seen so I circled the pick up/drop off area a few more times to try and scout her out before deciding to just park the car for a bit before checking again. This routine went on for about half an hour until my sister started texting me, concerned when I told her that mum still hadn’t come out yet.

At first, she suggested that mum’s flight might’ve been delayed but when she checked online; the flight was on time and had safely landed. Next, she thought I might’ve gotten the dates wrong but that couldn’t be right because mum had told me that she’d boarded the night before. Afterwards, she said that security might be taking a while to get through everyone but come on; 45 minutes? Mum’s not going to be that illegal.

After over an hour of constantly circling the pick up/drop off area (and probably making security a little suspicious at the amount of times my car went past), my sister suggested just going into the actual airport and looking for her. I was completely fine with this until I was trying to figure out the airport’s layout in my head to know where to walk to and 3, 2, 1… YOU FREAKING IDIOT.

Now, remember in the very first sentence when I said that mum was flying in from overseas (or are you just about to look again)?

This particular airport has two completely separate terminals; domestic and international. Whenever I’m picking dad up from the airport (which is almost every time) I always pick him up from the domestic terminal because, while he’s coming back from an overseas country, he always has a layover at another airport in our country so he goes through the domestic terminal. Here’s the thing though; my mind likes to simplify things so instead of being smart and thinking of his flight back as overseas → layover in our country → our airport it’s overseas → our airport. I always forget about the layover for some reason. Since mum was coming in from an overseas country too, I connected those two bits of “information” together and thought to just pick her up from the same place as dad in my I-woke-up-at-4:30am-state-of-a-haze.

I asked my sister if the domestic and international terminals were connected (because I wasn’t entirely sure where to walk to) and that’s when she called to face palm on my behalf and tell me that I was in the wrong freaking terminal this whole freaking time. For over an hour, mum was patiently waiting for me at the international terminal; the right place, while I was trying to scout her out over at the domestic terminal; the wrong place. I drove over to the international terminal, found a parking spot, went inside and lo and behold; our long lost muuuumm (but not until after I’d walked straight past her in my panic of looking for her; it takes a special kind of skill to get onto this level of oblivious).

All you had to do today was pick your mum up from the airport. You had one job, Xiva. ONE. JOB.


This whole time I thought it was me!

I have my sister’s old car and for almost a year, I’ve noticed these massive scratches and a cracked headlight cover on the front left of my car but I had no idea how they even happened. I don’t remember hitting anything but I also used to blast my music really loudly while I was driving so I thought it was either:

A) I did hit/scratch against something while I was driving but didn’t hear it because my music was too loud (and didn’t feel it for some reason)


B) Someone else hit/did something to my car when I wasn’t there but did a runner instead of owning up to it.

Part of me (okay, all of me) was hoping that it was B just so I could tell myself that I’m not a completely shitty driver but the other part of me “knew” that it must’ve been me. Well you know freaking what?! IT WASN’T ME. After almost a year of thinking it was my fault even though I had no idea how or when it happened, my older sister looks at the scratched and cracked part of the car today and says, “Jeez, what happened here?”

I reply with, “I don’t even know! I just saw it there one day!”

To which she replies with, “Haha, oh wait I did that when I had this car. Woops.”

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW. She’s seen that part of the car so many times, asked me what happened so many times and only just remembers NOW? I just… I… woooooooww. I think what happened was that the scratches used to be a lot smaller when I got the car but, because I still haven’t gotten them fixed/patched up yet, mother nature’s slowly stripped the paint around the scratches away; making it look worse and way more noticeable than when it was handed down to me.

But I’d just like to reiterate; it wasn’t me that put those scratches there in the first place.



This is something that I’m extremely hypocritical about.

I 100% hate people that are overly late to our plans just because they weren’t organised or because they felt like straightening their hair last minute and didn’t bother telling me even though I had to wait an extra 40 minutes (I’m still bitter about that, M)!

Five minutes late? That’s fine, no big deal. Once you stretch past the 10-15 minute mark without a reasonable excuse; I do the subtly b*tchy thing of making excuses to not hang out with you the next few times you try to make plans with me until my grudge is over because I’m not a mature person. If you know you’re going to be late, just text or call me! That way I can occupy myself with something instead of just sitting there and waiting for you (in the motherfreaking summer heat, M)!

But I’d be lying if I said that I was never late because I am… All the damn time. Even when I leave the house on time, something always comes up to make me late. Whether it’s a family member, traffic, car troubles, etc; there’s always something.

So these are my unwritten guidelines to being appropriately late:

Hanging out with one person – Be on time but, if you must, no later than the 5 minute mark. After that, you should’ve texted with a damn good excuse unless you were already driving because I also don’t want you to get into an accident.

Hanging out with two or more people – It’s not as bad because they still have someone else with them but they can’t be blamed if they want to start the day without you because you took too long out of disorganisation.

Party or event with a lot of people – Do they even notice you’re not there?

Parties and events are usually the only things that I’m purposefully late to (if I’m arriving alone) because I’m honestly just not good at being a social person so it’s just easier for me to arrive later since it means that I have to socialise for less and sit/stand there nervously for less. It also means that I can go straight to my friends/family that have already arrived instead of waiting for them to get there; cue the awkward human that becomes friends with a plant until a familiar face arrives because she doesn’t know how to socialise. It’s just a better experience for everyone in general when I do this. If I am late to an event, I let the host know beforehand and they’re always fine with it since there are over 50+ other people there so it never ends up being that big of a deal, if at all.

There’s fashionably late. There’s accidentally late. Then there’s the get-your-priorities-straight kind of late.


We all have that one ideal gift that tops all others. The one we’d love to receive from someone else but, at the same time, we don’t say anything for several reasons:

  1. We don’t want to burden other people with the task by actually telling them and making them feel obligated to get exactly that (although that’s sometimes the easiest option that people prefer).
  2. It’s not exactly the easiest gift to organise/obtain/give and you know that.
  3. It’s a secretly guilty pleasure.
  4. There’s an unwritten rule that you don’t ask for anything specific because a gift’s a gift and it’s the thought that counts.
  5. Another reason that my brain can’t think of right now because it’s 10 at night.

And I don’t mean the gifts like mansions, skyscrapers or private jets (a girl can dream). I mean the more obtainable gifts for us with not as much moola. The general ones that most people can actually afford.

Of course, we all undoubtedly appreciate and love -or “love”- the gifts we receive (unless you still don’t have a moral compass because you’re five) but there’s always that other thing that you secretly wish for. And yes, you could always just get these gifts yourself but there’s just that extra sense of happiness when someone takes the time to get to know what you want.

My ideal gift: I want someone to take me out somewhere completely new where we have a full day of just adventuring around and being idiots with each other. I want to go touristing around a new city/town, do something spontanious, sneak into somewhere different, laugh until my stomach hurts, lie down on a rooftop at night and talk about anything and everything, do something I’ve never done before, etc. I want a day or a moment in life that stands out from the rest but in a good way. One that I’ll look back on and smile about every time I remember it. That is my ideal gift.

Honestly though, the best part about these types of gifts isn’t the actual gift itself but the fact that someone thought you were important enough to pay attention to.

AKA I’m a hopeless romantic mixed with someone that has a pretty boring life right now. That… and Before Sunrise is one of my favourite movies; guilty as charged.