No amount of guilt can change the past, and no amount of worrying can change the future.
Category: DIY Therapy Sessions
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To remember
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Morbid
From my mom, a love for the macabre.
I’ve always thought my disposition mirrored my dad: clean loving, easily contented, non-adaptively self-sacrificial. The only trait i seem to have taken from my mom is my obsession with dark chocolate.
Today though, mom mentioned how she’s been fascinated with reading up about serial killers. And immediately i recognized that in myself, having spent hours reading J. E. Douglas’ deconstruction of a killer’s psyche, trawling websites dedicated to murderer’s profiles, and spending waaay too much time on YT watching documentaries on psychopaths.
I’ve always been fascinated with morbidity. I guess like any other curious being, darkness and death brings the most mystery – and thus appeals to the side of us that desires to know and understand. So today i learned that my need to deconstruct what is macabre comes from my mom, the same mom whose childhood ambition was to be a coroner, and who was inappropriately excited when introduced to Happy Tree Friends.
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The perhaps intersexual future of humanity
A thought during evolutionary psych class:
If humanity survives, we might eventually evolve into intersex beings. We would be both fully ‘male’ and ‘female’, although these terms would be arbitrary. Gender becomes obsolete. For much of the known history of homo sapiens, sexual selection has dominated. So much of our lives revolve around sex, around attracting mates, mating, just so we could reproduce and propagate our genes.
Think of how efficient an intersex population would be. Everyone’s mating choice increases by 100%, the world’s reproductive possibility increases by two-fold. And since reproduction and survival of one’s genepool are the two greatest evolutionary goals, this form of sexuality is progress.
AND. No more gender equality issues, no more discrimination of homosexuals, no more fuss over gender differences in romantic conflicts. Even monosexual beings can mate with anyone else, although in such a world they may be an undesired anomaly.
As of now i can’t think of any detrimental effect that might offset the benefits reaped from intersex humans. Maybe overpopulation? Partners conceiving at once, thus reducing resource and protective means in that critical period?
Homo sapiens are an infant species, if you were to keep the timeline of Earth and its inhabitants in perspective. To be honest i think we’ve barely inched forward in terms of evolution. The possibility of intersex beings is more plausible than we’d like to believe (i’m guessing few of us can or want to imagine a world without gender). This is, of course, provided there aren’t any evolutionary disadvantages i’ve overlooked, or cannot foresee.
Yuquan reckons we could undergo division, like some sort of mitosis or budding. I pictures another Yuquan sprouting out of his shoulder. With him, it does seem possible.
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Change
Welcome to another episode of Qing’s narcissistic introspection.
As with good dental flossing habits, my present self is eternally grateful to my younger self for dutifully cataloging my life online. I’ve lost count of the times all i needed to flesh out my reminiscing was a few clicks into my blog archives. So thank you, 2008 Qing, again, for posting up your Johari. So that 6 years later i’d have the chance to do a quick compare/contrast.
People love think about how much they’ve changed. #whatpubertydidtome #throwbackthursday #etcetc. Granted, the sample size here is less than ideal… but still, it does give some insight into broader shifts in character i’ve undergone.
2008:
2014:
Things:
1. 2014 me was genuinely surprised that people found me energetic, while 2008 me perceived myself as energetic. Relative to my younger days i am VERY. LETHARGIC. Often i’d internally lament about how much age has tripped, seized, and pulped the immense well of energy i used to operate on. I think someone once described me as “Energizer Bunny on Crack”. What i am now has nothing on 2008 Qing. Thus the surprise. But yeah i guess by population standards i’m still pretty high most of the time.
2. Still pretty much without a facade. “Ingenious” in 2008 was probably more of shameless self-optimism on my part, haha. Most aspects of me are still bared out there, much as i’d like myself to be (sometimes) shrouded in a mystical air of elusiveness. Pretty much an open book, then and now.
3. Seems like i’m no longer happy.
4. Most though i was cheerful and friendly in 2008. Most think i’m independent and intelligent now. And also the energetic, always energetic. AM I REALLY THAT ENERGETIC. Maybe only on caffeine. God i love caffeine. I’m now on caffeine. Anyway.
This shift does explain the disparate changes. “Responsive, warm, extroverted” as opposed to “knowledgeable, logical, reflective, observant”. And proud, i’m definitely proud. PRIDE WILL ONE DAY BE MY DOWNFALL. Was expecting this: i’ve definitely withdrawn somewhat and focussed more on reflection. This shouldn’t discount my ability to interact with others, but i guess it does.
5. I’M NOT SELF-ASSERTIVE. At all. I am crippled by the inability to confront and assert.
There’s no huge shocker here, but it’s nice to know that i know how i’ve changed.
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Kids
Didn’t expect leaving the pre-school to be this rough…
Don’t get me wrong, it’s EXHAUSTING herding little toddlers around all day. I have incredible respect for full-time pre-school teachers now. You’re literally on your feet ALL THE TIME: pulling fighting kids apart, removing play-doh from tiny mouths, cleaning poop, wiping butts, feeding, cleaning, reading stories, answering ENDLESS questions, singing repetitively, yanking stubborn ones out of playhouses… it never stops.
I was also surprised at how obstinate some kids can be. Washing poop off butts? No problem. But there were times where kids REFUSE to listen. You can’t lose your patience, because – KIDS. They are 18 months old you can’t reason with them on why trampoline time is over. You can’t stop them from screaming and kicking in protest because they can’t string a sentence together yet. The inability to channel blame on someone, and the helplessness when they insist on disagreeing – god it drives me mad. But THEN I LOOK AT THEIR TINY ADORABLE FACES AND I MELT.
This is really my undoing. I’m way too soft. Usually i end up cajoling. Even my firm moments are obviously collapsible with a little bit of whining AND THE KIDS KNOW THIS. That said, there are the sweetest ones that look at your adoringly and tell you things in the softest voice that kills me inside. Even the difficult kids have their moments. I LOVE ALL OF THEM.
One kid in particular reinforced how much of a failure-mom i’d be. He didn’t seem to understand or speak English, would go around knocking other kids about, refused to stay still for activities – basically he does the opposite of whatever he’s told to. At one point he fled the classroom and i went in pursuit of him, running around in the wet mud with my still half-broken legbutt. Caught up with him but he refused to be had. Just as i was at the brink of insanity i looked at his rosy chubby cheeksies and bright eyes and cutesy self and i exclaimed I LOVE YOU!!! and couldn’t help but hug him i wanted to kiss his lovely face forever omg i was insane.
Anyway he was so confused by my undue affection he froze – which was perfect cause i used the chance to whisk him back HAHAHA.
Yes. I want so badly to have kids i don’t even!!! These little ones are not mine and already i feel such a deep level of love for them. The things they say and do, their spontaneity and ingenuity, the unrestrained way they dance and ran and jumped and climbed and sang. Childhood is really one of the most beautiful things in life. I can watch them at play all day and not get sick of it.
I’d never be a kindergarten teacher as a long-term career, of that i’m sure. So i’m very, very glad to have had a chance to work there for a short time, just to be with kids: to be near their joy but also to learn how to manage them – behaviorally and with other house matters.
This sounds borderline creepy, but after quitting i’ve been dreaming of all the kids back at the pre-school. Altogether there are over a hundred of them, i’ve helped out with about 3-4 classes and i love them all equally but in different ways. KIDS ARE SUCH JOY.
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In the coming semester, i’d be volunteering with children’s cancer foundation. I’d be working with kids too, but with entirely different dynamics. Not sure if i’m mentally strong enough to deal with kids who don’t have the childhood they deserve. Really hope so. xx
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3 years MacDonalds free.
There was a time when i was, like everyone else, a Macs beast.
We’ve all hit the sinful milestones: the double cheeseburgers before dinner (i did that way too much), three consecutive days of macs, three consecutive meals of macs, your first megamac (and the digestive nightmare that followed), your first up-size everything, that time you sat on fluorescent plastic yellow seats for 6 hours straight nursing mcwings and garlic chili studying for finals. Friends, i’ve been there too.
That’s why it surprised me exactly how easy it was to quit MacDonalds.
I still remember how it happened. It was the end of J1, and my senior Subhas linked me to one of those documentaries with voiceovers hinting at cataclysm and uncomfortable amounts of shots panning caged chickens. One of the many expounding the horrors of fast-food chains, mass production, and animal cruelty.
To be frank, i wasn’t that affected by the documentary and can’t even remember its title. The only reason i watched it to the end was because i loved documentaries. Anyway. After watching Subhas was telling me how he wants to swear off Macs. And i casually agreed, just for the heck of.
And oh my god it was that easy.
Okay in the first few months, i just made the conscious effort not to have it when the thought arises. But i still did occasionally, for convenience, for politeness when i’m out with friends. After 6 months, without even being aware of it, i was almost completely off Macs.
The thing is, never once had i craved Macs. NEVER. Not once in the past three years. The reason why i didn’t take the Macs fast seriously initially was because i expected the blast of withdrawal symptoms from all that additives everyone’s always on about. Nada. I could walk past a Macs and breathe in all that heady fumes and feel nothing.
That was when i realized that the only thing Macs does for me is convenience. It’s just where you go when you can’t think of anything to have and are too lazy to travel any further than 2 blocks. Also, cheap. But i could get my fixes at hawker centers for that. Adieu, Macs. Seems like i don’t need you at all.
My affair with Macs was officially over when, 6 months into my casual abstinence, i had a meal there and FELT QUEASY THE ENTIRE DAY. Followed by runs, but i’ll spare you the intricacies of my bowel apocalypse. This happened again, the next time i had Macs. After that, never touched Macs again.
Not only did i not feel like Macs, ever, it also didn’t make life anymore inconvenient for me. I concluded that we only associate Macs with convenience. We are primed to have Macs pop up in our heads, in all its obnoxious red and yellow, whenever we think “eat what. cheap. close. fast.” There are so, so many alternatives available.
I don’t think this has made things difficult for my friends either. Most of them don’t even remember i’m off Macs. Sure, i’ve stolen a couple of fries when i’m hungry. AND OKAY FINE i had that McChicken because stupid Justin wanted his Prosperity Burger (i did it for love). But all in all, i call it a successful and pretty much permanent Mac-stinence.
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OKAY THE IRONIC BIT IS. Maybe i wrote the entirety above because I’M ABOUT TO BREAK FAST AGAIN. After 3 years. My first voluntary entrance into MacDonalds. And that is because:
MACDONALDS HOW DID YOU DO IT.
How did you finally track me down as a disbeliever, and launch an attractive marketing campaign just to get me back to the dark side?
My first voluntary, non-convenience, non-circumstantial MacDonalds. All because i cannot resist masochism in the form of spiciness. Seriously. But this is gonna happen k, even if i have the runs for days straight.
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Gratefulness & Resolutions
Being chair-ridden for a good part of the past two weeks has put things into perspective for me. I went through bouts of restless angst, immense lethargy, general depression, but fortunately also a finer ability to appreciate things i have.
Thank you everyone who messaged me with kind words, offered to bring me food / entertainment / various remedies, thank you Jiongz for driving me around campus, thank you my project group mates who had to take on my workload but never complained, thank you even to the girl who snickered when she saw me limping and stumbling over because you gave me so much motivation to recover and kick you puny ass. Thank you of course to J who tended to me like an underpaid nurse.
Anyway, it’s mid-march but never too late for resolutions. Keeping to my creed, i’ll make it as simple as possible because my goal is to follow through all of them.
1. Be productive profitably
2. Do community work
3. For every time i judge someone instinctively, formulate a justification for their action/trait until the judgment lessens
4. Be an active learner; place more emphasis on learning than grades
5. Make time to be thankful
THAT’S ALL. So simple, i better follow through!
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Learning & Un-learning
The weather and i have drawn ourselves into a parallel: peaceful and comfortable; not without its occasional bouts of insane winds but nothing that’ll topple me over where i am; in general sunny – the way i like it.
This is an update post, it will have no actual point but i will attempt to establish a unifying theme.
Doing this because i find myself, with age, increasingly discriminating especially in regards to reading and writing.
I used to read with complete abandon, devouring indiscriminately whatever wasn’t beyond the reach of my maws. Your diet doesn’t matter before sixteen, i like to think – so absolutely no regrets in my unhealthy consumption of literature great, bad, and downright awful. Later in life i find myself spending more time choosing what to read than actually reading. With whatever time i have i want to read something not merely halfway decent but WORTH IT. Explains my severely malnourished pantry of reads in recent years. Depressing, but not particularly worrying because i’m much too addicted to reading to ever quit.
Writing, on the other hand, requires not just time/effort but also that extraspecialspicysecretingredient chemical X that loves visiting at the most inopportune moments. The pockets of free time i have to write, i’m completely stuck. I stare at my screen and type-delete-type-delete, save draft, save it along with my rather prolific stash of half-done broken paragraphs and lonely sentences. I’m sorry. Typically, this post itself would have been flushed down along with my Prolific Stash, because this is Not one of my writing moments – and unless i write my best i’d rather not at all (yes i’m a closet Type A).
But today i came across a quote on Facebook i loved:
“Work finally begins when the fear of doing nothing exceeds the fear of doing it badly.” – Alain de BottonSure i’m rusty, but without cranking my writing arms more often without the stringent discrimination of work quality, i’m not gonna get my momentum. So here i am, in one of my Not Moments, writing.Un-learning discrimination.It is quite liberating. I crave writing, I always do – but the fear of looking back and thinking ‘ugh should not have posted that so redundant’ stands in the way. Not sure why i fear that because my ENTIRE ARCHIVES are made up of those (although i happily embrace my embarrassing, rambling, uncensored past).I’m more discriminating with my allocation of time to people, though. Not something i can or want to unlearn.For the past two days, met up with old friends.
PW group meeting with JT, BK and YQ. How is it that everyone is grown up but still the same? I find so much comfort in that – the fundamental stability of traits i’ve come to depend on in my friends. Those undefinable, complex traits i’ve taken two years to slowly learn and can never unlearn or explicitly explain. YQ asked in his classic YQ fashion if five years later we’d still bother to keep in contact. I answered yes and really meant it. YQ’s serious-flippant respond is irrelevant here, i just want very much to remind myself that yes i want to still be in the lives of all the friends i’ve made in that time of my life.
Yesterday had dinner with D, Manda and JR. Debbie and i had time together before everyone else arrived, reminded of those hours and hours we spent before during and after school. How did we have so much time? The ease of our conversations and those spaces between words we save on because we already know what each other are thinking… those are also things i’ve picked up through my years with D and cannot possibly unlearn, am grateful to know that.
On another note, this semester i’ve come to realize myself as a Psych student.Find myself genuinely excited about things i learn (which i once did before prior to entering Uni and having learning anchored to concrete assessment systems), and actively applying across all domains (other psych modules, my life, my friends’ lives, my other humanes modules). If i weren’t taking a physics module (for USP) this semester, it would be me studying everything i love. But i’m not complaining, and i like that i’m studying something (COMPLETELY AND DISGUSTINGLY) beyond my comfort zone (I HAVE NEVER TAKEN PHYSICS BEFORE WHAT AM I EVEN). BUT I LIKE IT. I like being challenged because i’m that kind of annoying student who is actually ~*passionate*~ about learning. Unabashed one at that.Seriously though. Finally carving out a seemly space for myself in my major. Equal parts relieved and excited. Still not exactly sure what i’ll do with my life, but i’m doing what i love and have faith that things will eventually work out.That’s all for now. Hello welcome back rambling, pointless, potentially embarrassing redundant posts. Sorry everyone. My space, my prerogative.
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Internet Identity Crisis
I’ve kept this blog since 2006, and it’s always been a jiapalang pastiche of everything. Rants, updates, conversations, reviews, lists, commentaries. Some are lengthy and have quite a bit of thought put into them, others are just silly paragraphs without an actual purpose, the rest can be pretty personal. Its only constancy is its inconsistency.
It has served me well too. Call me a narcissist but i quite enjoy reading my archives and read about my past, whether in reminiscence or appreciation of my own writing (LOL). There has been a sudden resurgence of lifestyle blogging popularity, though, and with it came along a strict demarcation of blog categories. Lifestyle bloggers carve out a niche where pretty photos of food and fashion dominate their pages. Commentaries are left to “political” or at least “serious” bloggers.
I don’t understand this distinction.
What happened to the days where Xiaxue, pre-advertorials galore, posted extensively about anything – from social issues to cleaning out her closet? I want to hear personal thoughts from everyone, things that happen in their lives beyond that of visiting a cafe or purchasing two blouses at a discounted price.
I recently came across a Facebook status scoffing a lifestyle blogger for commenting on the Little India riot. It made me a little sad inside that we are practicing exclusivity. Why are we discouraging the layman from having an opinion about socio-political issues? It doesn’t matter how valid or informed our opinions are, as long as they aren’t offensive. Ignorance is always more pardonable than apathy, imo.
You can scoff, if you are one to, at the opinion offered, but why scoff at another having an opinion and sharing it?
Okay I’m slightly off point here. What I wanted to say is how increasingly displaced I feel in the increasingly segmented internet sphere. I haven’t been posting for awhile because every time I felt like posting something it seemed off. I wanted to photo-blog about Christmas and how I spent it with the best of company, but I didn’t have the fancy photos or the brevity expected of a lifestyle update. I wanted to do some reviews on the books i’ve read so far but where and what does that make me as a blogger. Am i EVEN A BLOGGER? If so, am i allowed to comment on the Little India riot – the way i have commented in my own little inadequate and ignorant way on many political issues since the beginning?
I’ll eventually resolve this crisis and resume blogging at a less constipated frequency i guess, but i still can’t help but feel like the current norms of blogging has crowded out a more haphazard, personal blogging style i love (and love reading from everyone else).
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Roads
Almost every time I cross the road alone, or not sufficiently occupied by the company of another, I imagine an alternate universe where I get hit by a vehicle.
In all these scenarios different things can happen. Most of the time it’s fatal, each death has varying effects on the people around me. Sometimes I am injured, other times my thoughts end with an immediate death.
I’m not sure when this started, and am aware but never bothered by it. It is a strange but unobtrusive compulsion – like when you stretch your right knee to even out stretching the left. It’s just something I’ve done over the years without worrying much about.
But now when I look back at all the roads I’ve crossed, I think of all the deaths I’ve littered behind me, all the dead or injured me-s I’ve carelessly conjured and left around the island, all the people I imagined would grieve over me grieving in their respective worlds.
It’s so weird that I have these scattered universes orbiting around the roads i’ve visited. It’s also morbid that in most of them my death is the predominant theme.
Sometimes I even wonder if i am the alternate universe. If I had left my real, dying self behind – spared of this death by entering into a alternate world where i get to live on to be killed by some other way in the future.
it’s always disorientating when i get these brief, surreal moments.
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