Spill the Matcha

My mother is currently visiting me. I’ve previously written about the bliss of going back to my parents’ house, subverting responsibilities for one exquisite week; my only responsibility to just be an overgrown, hungry child. The experience on the other side – when mom visits me – isn’t quite the same. The first week was like playing Tetris with my emotional health. Every time an annoyed emotion popped up, I had to expertly maneuver my scream to the bottom and clamp a grateful smile over it....

It’s my birthday. Well, tomorrow technically. 27 feels good. I thought it might be scary, or that I might dread it. But I think I’m ok with it. My 22-year-old sister is not. If you spoke to her, you’d think I was halfway to my grave. Recently, she asked me if I clicked yes on the senior citizen interest program on my savings account. I don’t know about you, but I never had very strong opinions about birthdays. I've seen friends have it marked in their calendar as the day they will cry into an...

An all-or-nothing mindset sounds glamorous and romantic. Until you realize you’ve chosen nothing for three weeks straight. I should floss → I’m too tired → It’s not like my teeth will fall out if I don’t floss for one night. When it should be I should floss → I’m too tired → Fine, I’ll just do the teeth in front. Now, at least the teeth people can see are clean and healthy. But I was always horrible at this. Rolling my eyes when people said 10 minutes on the treadmill counts as a workout....

Just like many ill-fated stories begin I had one wish. Back when I was 22, I went on a very budget weekend trip with my boyfriend. We planned it meticulously, down to the last decimal, how much it would cost us to go there, stay in a (not seedy) hotel, eat a couple of meals, and return without having to sell our belongings for the ticket back. We took an overnight bus, ate protein bars for breakfast, stayed in a sufficiently seedy but not overtly dangerous hotel, walked everywhere, and didn’t...

One random Thursday, my dad quietly bought a whole entire farm in another state and didn’t tell anyone (yes, we made many We Bought A Zoo jokes) That was 2 years ago. So, now I spend every Easter and Christmas at my parents’ farm. It’s not the house I was raised in, and, as much as I love nature, I don’t think I’m a farm girl (yet) Still, every time I’m there, I always revert right back to my teenage self. An overgrown, comatose snack pit that moves from the sofa only at meal times and eats...

Were you ever one of those kids who made up games and rules for fun? You know—don’t step on sidewalk cracks or you lose. Throw yourself hard in the opposite direction when the car hits a sharp swerve so that you ‘balance the weight’ and the car won’t topple. I carried that spirit into my adulthood. But with way stupider rules, like: I'm not allowed to buy a new work-from-home system until I hit a certain income goal I made up. Never mind that I can afford one now, never mind that my current...

“Get UPPP, Shika. If you drop you have to give me 5 more” I glare at the screen, my face red, sweating from every pore on my skin. “WHAT?’ Luckily I’m on mute. Uhm I can’t do one push-up without my arms shaking so hard, that they start to resemble tuning forks. But she wants me to do five more push-ups. She here is my 23-year-old online yoga teacher. I don’t want to namedrop, so let’s call her KJ. KJ is genetically closer to a rubber band than a human being, with an almost un-godly love for...

Not to sound like a boring date but are you a mountains or a beach person? Me? I’m a mountains gal. Genetically, spiritually, emotionally—I belong in the cool shadows of the Western Ghats in South India. My hometown (a term used loosely as I’m 2 generations removed from ever actually living here) But this is the story of how one day mountain gal found herself on the world’s third best beach - Bondi Beach. My way to Bondi came after we’d been hopping beaches across Brisbane, the Gold Coast,...

Today, I bring you the best possible gift—a story about how my friend mercilessly tore me a new one. I wish this wasn’t a true story. Let’s go back - Saturday night, a harmless dinner and drinks catch-up with some friends from my ol’ PR days. But nothing good happens after midnight. Or after 3 (4? 5?) drinks. Or when someone says, ‘let’s go around the table and be honest about each other’s sense of style.’ Before we get into the answers, I feel like I should give some context into what I...