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  • 9 years ago

    Exactly 9 years ago, on 17 July 2017, I wrote this:

    The slow death of this blog always seems imminent but it never happens. It has survived against all odds since it started 11 years ago. Will it be here when I cross more milestones in life? Sometimes I read about my past and marvel at how unpredictable my soon-to-be future can be.

    Yes, Qing, you will be here even as you cross milestones you’d never have predicted. You’ll meet and marry the man of your dreams (more than you could have dreamt of, really). Where you want to be in your career – you’ve been there and are steps ahead, you can’t even begin to imagine. Speaking of unpredictable, you will have twins.

    Another 9, 20 years — I wonder what it holds for me. Will future Qing still be here, writing to the me today about all the adventures the years ahead hold?

    Two posts today! Muse has found me.

    July 17, 2026

  • 2 weeks

    Where it all begins: your tata’s firm hand on my brow.

    A clean cry ringing with life fills the operating theatre, and something new bursts open inside me: a portal, a previously unknown gateway to love. I cry along with you.

    And comes the longest two minutes I’ve had to wait, waiting for the sum of my entire heart to be safe. A tug, the pain goes up to my shoulder. Then your cry, rife with vigor, joins your brother’s cries and your tata’s voice. Another burst, another portal.

    Everything feels whole.

    Half a meter down they were sewing my sawed up body back together again.

    Two new little humans I can scarcely believe are mine, are now entirely in my arms and my care. I cannot yet process that you are part me, but I see so much of your tata in you. All i know is that i will keep you safe and love you all my life.

    I feel myself, but augmented — stretched, grown, made more by you. Not physically (I’m pretty much back to my pre-pregnancy shape, thank you Asian genes), but in every other way.

    I, who would not wake in the middle of the night for anything, do so willingly, effortlessly, for you. In the huff and whizz of the electric pump, I gaze at the dozens of photos I’ve taken of you that day, my smitten grin thankfully obscured by the dim flourescent glow of the Spectra. In any case, I am alone, just me and my fawning over two little angels.

    Nothing is too difficult, if done for you.

    Not when you make your little dinosaur squeaks while nursing, with your little rosebud lips pouting in your sleep, your tiny fingers and toes like fresh pearls and just as precious.

    Your tata, right now, has given up his beloved bed at home to sleep in a hotel. No, he is not a staycation kind of guy. But for your health he does so without a complaint.

    This is a life your tata and i have held hands and walked gratefully, bravely, into. A life dedicated to each other and you.

    July 17, 2026

  • 3rd July 2026,

    the first day I meet both of you, perfect little beings that fill and expand my heart beyond what I could have imagined.

    Life is now a timed cycle of feed, burp, diapers, sleep, pump; a well-worn story of modern parenthood amidst sore boobs and milk stains.

    But oh your little faces, expressions, and sighs. Your tiny fingers flexing and the softest downy backs. They make it worth everything, nothing is too hard or too much. I go to sleep dreaming about you.

    It’s also incredible that despite both of you being of identical DNA, you are wholly distinct personalities to me. I love different things and have different memories i love of you (all of 4 days old!)

    Luki with the deep contemplation and serious eyes that blink and look with such clarity. Henio with the most adorable milk drunk little face, flushed and content.

    My two little angels. We love you so much.

    July 8, 2026

  • Love is warm socks: A reprise

    Your socks are tiny things, barely a little ball of cotton in my palm. A week later, your small feet will fill them.

    The memory of when I was 11, sitting in front of the churning dryer, does not feel so far away. My own socks spun violently around the drum: my own parents’ love in action.

    I wonder if the one of you given to bouts of hiccups would be the same earthside, and if the kicker would carry forth his habit. I wonder whose eyes you’d get.

    June 27, 2026

  • TDK and the ethics of Vietnamese Brides

    Another day, another podcast that had me proper pissed.

    Listened to this The Daily Ketchup episode and it gave me a rash with its ignorance, misogyny, and overall propagation of toxic stereotypes.

    The practice of  procuring Vietnamese wives was so blatantly and shamelessly spoken of as a transaction, with nary an attempt to provide a more nuanced perspective to it. If their goal was to expose the mindset of local uncles who think taking advantage of those with less economic means is a heroic and ethical act, they have succeeded.

    I find the “purchasing” (let’s call it what it is) of a Vietnamese bride very wrong, for the same reasons I find commercial surrogacy wrong. The distaste has NOTHING to do with looking down on Vietnamese wives or women who choose to be surrogates. None at all. It is quite the opposite – I do not think it is right to exploit the bodies and lives of those who have scarce resources, pretending they truly consent to such an exploitation.

    Yes, you may argue that it is the choice of the Vietnamese bride / surrogate mother. But is it really? If they had more, and were not forced to a corner, would they still choose to do this?

    No matter how you spin it, no matter how well or sincerely you treat the wife, it is still plainly an exploitation based on an imbalance of (economic) power. Not abusing a woman is a GIVEN, not something to be lauded.

    Yet, appallingly, in the YouTube comments, this uncle was praised for being genuine, for not matchmaking for profit, some even going as far to say they would vote him as a politician wtf? Has the local community collectively lost their damn mind?

    Does no one notice the glaringly stereotypical and destructive statements made by this uncle?

    First, he said that when he was choosing his wife in Vietnam, he brought along a few candidates to a store and asked them to select clothes at his expense.

    He mentally struck off one who dressed inappropriately for a teacher’s wife (he is a discipline master, go figure, typical boomer uncle granted too much power). And his daughter was also making observations and judging on the sidelines.

    Why should any woman be subject to your judgement and “tests” like so, if they’re meant to become your life partner, meant to be your equal? Why were you, uncle, not subject to any tests and being judged for your age, your fashion choices, the way you speak, and your ignorant boomer opinions? Oh, that’s right, the disparity of power you have so conveniently taken for granted and so carelessly glossed over in this podcast.

    Second, uncle recounted how his wife felt like a second class citizen after moving to Singapore, because at gatherings his friends’ wives could speak English and had jobs.

    He assured her by saying she’s now Mrs Goh and “no longer some Ah Gow from Vietnam.” Now, excuse me here but what in the blue world is this statement, and how revealing it is of how he views her background, her culture, and her family.

    He could, instead, have said that she’s fluent in HER native language and cannot be faulted for not speaking what she was not educated in or exposed to. He could have said that a job does not define her. No. He did none of that because he obviously does not think the above. Instead, he thinks that he – uncle – has heroically and single-handedly granted her first class citizenship by proxy of marriage to him. Barf.

    You know what’s rich? His English is atrocious. He can’t even say Vietnam (“Wietnam”). How someone like that can feel an iota of superiority to another for speaking English? If your wife had the opportunities you did, she could be actually fluent in several languages and doing more with her life, with more progressive thoughts than you, uncle.

    Third. He said if a 20+ year old Singaporean guy asks for his matchmaking services he would say no and to look for a Singaporean girl instead. Again revealing his inherent prejudice against Vietnamese women as “second choices” for those who are older and presumably have a smaller pool to choose from.

    He then went on to list the pros and cons of Vietnamese brides. Not surprisingly, citing them as subservient and obedient – which are pros in his books. He also implied that Singaporean girls are fussy and picky.


    Singaporean women are only as picky as Singaporean men are, and we can afford to do so because, literally, we can afford just as much as local men. We have equal rights and resources, as we rightfully should, and thus have the right to pick who we spend the rest of our lives with. Should I also call local uncles picky for choosing Vietnamese women over Singaporeans?

    Do not even get me started on valuing the virtues of subservience.

    Fourth. He now lists a con of marrying Vietnamese wives: that childrfen born to such couplings do not do well in school “according to his experience”. Because “Vietnamese women are not educated and cannot teach their children”.

    I was boiling at this point and wondering why none of the hosts jumped in to correct this confidently made confound of a claim.

    What a vile statement to make. Given that their mothers sacrifice so much, being taken advantage of by old geezers like him with precisely the hope to give their children a better life… and here he is casually saying, yeah they aren’t gonna do as well.

    No really, this man (although I’m reluctant to grace him with this title) needs to be called out for his self-righteous guise as such a ethical matchmaker, when in fact he is a misguided misogynist with outdated thinking too PAINFUL to listen to, who is enabled by others who share his view or don’t have the balls to call him out.

    Oho and I’m not even done yet.

    Fifth. The lovely cherry on top of uncle’s utter and destructive ignorance.

    A host asked why he thinks Vietnamese women do not want to marry Vietnamese men instead.

    Without missing a beat, uncle said with full confidence of a fool who knows nothing, OH because Vietnamese men drink a lot, go home and beat up their wives. And unlike Singapore the women don’t have protection from the likes of women’s charter, so such cases are dismissed as a private domestic affair.

    ?????

    Are there Vietnamese men who drink and beat up their wives? Yes. As with many other countries and cultures.

    How about the many, many Vietnamese men who are honest, hardworking, and love their wives? To claim so steadfastly as if this is a NORM in Vietnam is absolutely W I L D.

    How was this episode allowed to be aired, how did it get through editing, and why did the hosts do nothing to correct or at least add nuances to the sweeping claims made? How is NO ONE calling out the numerous bullshit said in the youtube comments?

    May 31, 2026

  • 20th Anniversary of this blog!

    The very first post captured on this blog is on 8 March, 2006. Technically we are 20 years and 2 months! What an incredible feat that I’ve kept up this blog from age 13 to today, age 33 and a mother (of two!!!) – with minimally two updates every year, usually more.

    My babies are closer in age to my self when I started than I am now to her.

    I read through some archives as I’m wont to do at times. The words are familiar; I feel close to her and remember her feelings and fears, ideals and desires as she wrote them.

    Yet, this time and for the very first time, I was reading myself as an Other than my self. Some of the beliefs I held, I hear and understand but have evolved. The feelings I remember but no longer resonate with.

    Does this mean I have undergone a great identity transformation, or rather a slow transformation that has finally regenerated its last remaining cells — the Ship of Theseus replacing its last wooden plank?

    And yet I’m still here, still writing in the same place, ‘same same but different’. I think I’m happier than before, perhaps simpler – in that I’ve stripped down a lot of the non-essentials, more sure-footed than ever despite very Adult Responsibilities and Shit Getting Real. I think I’m exactly where I want to be, and where my 13 and 23 year old selves would have wanted to be at 33.

    What a special moment though. I imagine every year of myself – vivid and real – standing in line behind me. I love every one of them, am glad that i have captured their voice and thoughts. All 33 of us peer over the shoulder of the next, as I do now, wondering what’s next, who we will create as an amalgation and a progression of all of us.

    May 17, 2026

  • Book Review: Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky

    I really enjoyed this scifi novel.

    As endorsed, it lives up to being the smartest, most detailed revolutionary world building of all the scifi novels I’ve read around an alien civilisation (and I’ve read a lot of it).

    More than Rocky in Project Hail Mary, more than the Pequeninos in Speaker for the Dead, more than the Runa/Ja’anata of The Sparrow, and the Gethenians in The Left Hand of Darkness.

    All classic scifi novels exploring fascinating other worldly (literally) species, but none quite so intricately outlining the millenials of evolution, learning, growth, and culture.

    It also brought up some real tough and big questions about humanity, morality, and what we stand for.

    Is life and humanity worth living for, if you live your entire life in claustrophobic squalor; a life in a makeshift vessel where your lifetime’s work will benefit only generations after you, that you’ll never live to see?

    Is immortality – or at least a life spanning millenials – one we would seek, if you’re plucked away from the linearity of time and the natural progression of birth, life, death? If you’re awaken each time to the unknown: you could have landed on a habitable New World, or in the midst of war with an alien species.

    And most of all, most difficult of all, the question of who truly “inherits” a world. Who has true claim to a planet. Is it humans, although they’ve torched the one they originally budded from, just because they seeded a new planet? Or the native inhabitants of this new planet, although they themselves bud from the seeds of these alien ancestors?

    I found myself not knowing who to side with: The aliens I’ve read about through the generations in this land they call their own, or the humans I share biological makeup with.

    If one day we were to evacuate our Earth today, would I also have such strong passions to continue the memories, the genes, the lineage of my kind, at the expense of yet another planet?

    March 30, 2026

  • 21 weeks, 6 days

    6 December, 2025, was the first day we saw both of you. Two tiny shapeless orbs but with heartbeats that echo through the examination room; and there was your tata’s excitement, silent but just as loud.

    I loved you the moment we saw you, little bulbs with no form, or, perhaps even before that, when your force made me so sure I was carrying you, and that you were a boy. I loved you then, and more than that I knew you deeply, felt your soul and your energy and your life before those strong double lines materialised on the pregnancy stick.

    And then a touch of magic made you… boys.

    Every time we could see you two is a marvel. Your little noses and profiles, countable fingers and toes, the neat tiny bones of your spines. The way you would flex and clench your fists and stretch your limbs.

    I marvel at the gift of company even at your very start, little fingers that reach and prod across the wall at another life, playful legs that kick at one other. You would know each other in extraordinary ways that most do not experience. His eyes are your eyes, his blood yours.

    The doctor says to try and identify which flutter inside me belongs to which of you. I realised then that I have always known. Each little turn you make, the 3am somersaults one of you are prone to, the pre-dinner hungry dances, the punching up at my lungs, I always know who they belong to. But both of you are equally calmed by your tata’s voice and when he presses his firm hands on my belly.

    If I have given you any gift at all, my babies, it is the best tata in the world. I have given you his genes, his love, his protectiveness and loyalty, his strength and generosity and one day, his ability to make both of you laugh. We are so in love with you already.

    Love, Mama.

    March 19, 2026

  • the body as a vessel.

    I feel my self and body in a liminal space of womanhood. Right now the epitome of a woman symbolically, in all its overt display of fertility, but not materially.

    Being pregnant is the antithesis of everything they taught us about being female.

    The belly that grows daily, once an unfashionable horror, now a necessity. The learnt disgust that kicks in at “growing big” comes with it a flood of relief that life you are carrying continues to live.

    The breasts, now feigning acquiescence to the years of wishing that they get bigger, are function not form. They are not the vibrant bloom of young womanhood I once prayed for, but a ripening: dark and fermenting, portending tasks and chores to come.

    I feel cow heavy and waddle duck footed. The body is now merely a vessel, eaten inside out, and no longer mine.

    Past relevant reads:

    The body as a ___.

    The body as a machine.

    January 30, 2026

  • 2025

    What a year it has been!

    In March, we wedded in Singapore, amidst close friends & family. On the day, while we were taking photos in the sweltering humidity of Botanic Gardens, two otters glided past us in the stream beneath the bridge we were on.

    In June, we held our second wedding in Poland, an experience like no other to have beloved friends know the city of Wroclaw – my second home. I got to experience my first (and my own) Polish wedding.

    July, we moved homes, bidding goodbye to Tanjong Pagar and the apartment we have shared so many memories and milestones in. Bittersweet, but life moves on and upwards.Shortly after, I went under the knife for a planned surgery to remove an ovarian cyst.

    Just a few months after, a surprise awaited us. One expected, one I would not have guessed in a thousand years. We are blessed with two little otters of our own. There is so much to be grateful for, so many magical moments in 2025, but this is the greatest and most transformative of them all.

    And amongst all these many numerous and precious achievements, I am grateful – as I am at the end of every year – to have the friends I have remain in my life, closer than ever.

    2025 took a lot of work, but the celebrations and joy, friendship and surprises, it has reaped — so worth it!

    January 22, 2026

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