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  • A dream

    Had a night of intense dreams.

    In one, we were in a group viewing a series of contestants, somewhat like a beauty contest. As a joke, one of their photos were fixed so that her abdomen and legs weren’t hers. I first noticed that she had an uncannily hairy belly below the bikini, notified the others and started giggling.

    Then it escalated. I could not stop laughing, and the dream was consumed with the sensation of my laughter: how my stomach seized together, how hearty my lungs felt before the cathartic expulsion of air, how full it sounded, and how i enjoyed every moment of it. I just let myself go with that one. It felt good.

    In a later part of my dream, an old man who was presumably very loving, wise, and respected, passed away. I had a fondness for him, but then was told that before he died he had been listening in to a personal conversation of my friend and i. Although in IRL standards this qualifies as creepy, in the dream i construed it as him having watched over us. Went to his altar of sorts and placed in it something i had stolen but intended to return (from an electronics store).

    And then i started to cry. And by cry i mean CRY. Gut wrenching, full pressure against brain, howling wailing cry. Cried for a long time, with a disturbingly tight knot in my chest i couldn’t heave out. Everyone around me looked really concerned and sympathetic. In a way it was very cathartic as well. Woke up with wet eyes.

    So my dreams last night were about relief i guess! To just get all that pressure out of my system.

    January 24, 2015

  • 3GT Day 3

    1. Met JY and Zephyr! during my lunch break!

    wpid-img_20150122_152122.jpg

    Someone looks so pleased here heh. Happy because these are people who never fail to make me feel at home. Reunited here again in SMU! + Z who was nice (free) enough to visit. HC, despite all the stress and construction noise pollution, has given me friends i’d always be grateful for.

    2. After a long day, bought jara petit cheese cups home! Had the lavender flavor. IT WAS SO GOOD. Satisfied, sagely nod at sugar-filled dairy products with buttery crust, the way i like it. Was even better knowing i fully deserved it after a 8-7 school day.

    3. J phone call right after my last class. A short 5 minutes but it was enough of a stress-relief valve. Thankful for having someone who knows me inside out, who knows what to say to make things better. Hi J, when will you stop featuring on my 3GTs all the time? :x

    4th GOOD THING cause why not! i feel particularly indulgent today.

    4. Reddit for keeping me sufficiently entertained. The #jennyandcarly saga has left me hooked, even the deletion of it was a worthy episode in itself. Also finally a good WP today! I’m so pleased.*

    January 22, 2015

  • Obsessing.

    one integral characteristic of mine that remains relatively hidden is my obsessiveness. to most i appear laid-back (i think), but that’s mostly because my obsessions don’t translate into productive action. in fact i think a lot of time, my passivity is a result of exhaustion just dealing with minor worries in everyday life.

    so instead of acting on my problems, i spend most of my time squirreling away its knots and dents deep into my mind. when i was younger there weren’t enough significant problems to deal with, but as my problems start to take on long-term consequences at this age, they turn me into an inactive, stressed mess.

    by nature i’m quite a happy person, but i’ve learnt that happiness doesn’t preclude stress – and i am almost always stressed. diagrammatically, i’d describe my default state as a smooth sheet of happiness, creased where there are waves of stress. increasingly, with age, stress has taken on a bigger role: the sheet is essentially crumpled.

    because it’s such an automatic cognitive process – my tendency to latch on and aggressively deconstruct problems ceaselessly – it’s difficult to stop. i’d say unless i were distracted (by people, tasks, daydreaming), i’m stressing out.

    it’s taking a toll on my health (quite badly) and my action plan to life, which is in itself worrying. except instead of doing something about it, i let the worry wash over my brain… worrying about worrying. there’s a desperate need to exert control over all aspects of my life, and the thought of doing (and possibly failing) paralyzes me.

    for 2015 i want to make a conscious decision to just… relax. to just let go and do things. to be more fearless and not let the need to control control me. not sure how i’d get to doing this yet, but as always i believe that awareness is a decent first step towards change.

    crossing fingers. x

    January 22, 2015

  • 3GT Day 3

    1. Having Shereen in my 211 Biotech class. :-)

    Long, long classes made tolerable with my old-time seating partner. One of the best candidates for it too, given how serious/fun she can swing when need be.

    2. Home-cooked dinner!

    Have not had this for awhile. Carrot tofu soup and grilled fish with fried egg. So homely and familiar and everything good.

    3. Long chat with Popo.

    Listened to my Po reminisce about her favorite topics: her glory tai tai days back when my gong gong was alive. He sounds like a terribly doting husband and father, i felt a little sad i never got to experience it. But i’m really glad i got to talk to her, beyond the usual everyday conversation, and semi-convinced her to take her BP pills regularly.

    January 21, 2015

  • 3GT Day 1

    1.

    Hitting 22nd! Receiving birthday greetings from family/friends, waking up to red hard-boiled eggs by my grandma! I pulled through 22 years of good and bad, avoided danger sufficiently to stay alive, and amassed enough friendships to be remembered by friends even if they are far away right now. :’-) That is in itself an achievement, right?

    2.

    Broke my constipation streak! Not totally, and tmi. But ya. I have bowel problems k. Cannot ah? Won’t elaborate on how i got there, but hmm maybe i need to up my fiber/live active culture intake. My problem seems to be with water absorption. I can talk about my poops forever but something about public propriety tells me i should stop.

    3.

    Was cuddled, also learnt that cuddling can lead to addiction. I do not doubt this one bit. Currently happily addicted. Consistent affection and oxytocin build-up is responsible for this.

    January 19, 2015

  • Three Good Things

    Of all the happiness exercises proposed by Seligman – father of positive psychology – Three Good Things (and Using Personal Strengths in New Ways) was found to have the most significant long-term impact on happiness.

    Basically, every night before bed, you think of 3 good things that happened in the day (no matter the scale), write them down, and give a causal explanation for it (reflect on why it happened).

    For my 22nd year i’ll try this out, as far as i can go. Useful also because it gives me a reason to update my blog. Probably will not, however, make it fully public. More personal entries will be made private. Does anyone wanna try this out with me?

    18th Jan, Day 0:

    1. Had a fulfilling morning cycling with my Dad in great weather. I bothered to drag my lazy ass out of the house despite slight lethargy. My dad remembers appointments i make with him and is always very proactive in reminding me/keeping to them, which i love about people.

    2. Watched a brilliant episode of WILTY. For a long time watching comedy series has become merely a distraction from stress or work. This semester i’m letting myself watch purely to be entertained. There’s a sense of lightness i cannot quite articulate, and it gives me space to laugh heartily where it warrants. I realize i have not laughed so spontaneously (alone, i mean) for awhile.

    3. Had a birthday dinner with my family and J. Best minute of a great day was when the whole table laughed together about something. There is something about sharing joy with your closest loved ones. Grateful that J was there to share it. J’s commitment to coming for dinner, even if it meant pushing away other appointments, made this possible. And of course my extended family’s willingness to take time off their schedule for me, even at 22 when celebrating is no longer a requisite.

    January 18, 2015

  • Watched: Black Mirror, White Christmas

    I finally got around to Black Mirror’s 2014 Christmas special yesterday, after putting it off in my reluctance to clean Black Mirror off my to-watch dock. It was – if i were to be succinct than loyal – disappointing. First things: I’m very new to (and very much in love with!) the Black Mirror universe. In fact, i started it because the release of White Christmas rejuvenated its fan base. Series 1 & 2 was completed within two weeks, so my inclination to compare runs rather high.

    Even as the weakest BM episode, it was engaging enough for > 1 hour to feel much shorter than it was. Again, the actors were on point; i do have a penchant for british actors – there’s always a faint shadow of stage in their performance, which appeals to my early years in theatre. Jon Hamm worked in contrast to the cast, especially in context of his character – more offhand and quick charm.

    Also, not sure if it’s just me, but little segments (technology, songs, dialogue, plot) reminiscent of past episodes. Perhaps hidden tributes?

    That’s pretty much all for that was commendable though. The most glaring of its faults was its over-dependence on thought experiments. In previous BM episodes, i gave full pardon for leaps of logic – because it was psychologically water-tight. Meaning, the episodes often sliced off a narrow piece of universe on which the premise is centered, without considering possible external factors, or how this might work in context of the actual world (e.g. crime logic in National Anthem? what does everyone else do? in 15 Million Credits, governmental intervention in White Bear?). BUT, the courses of action taken within that assumed universe followed its rules, and closely mimicked what anyone would do in the situation. Given that the premises are primarily thought experiments, the external world doesn’t play as crucial a role.

    In White Christmas however, even within the given universe, the plot is sketchy. Firstly, surely the cookie cannot be seen as viable. It’s unlikely that humans, with so much fear and desire for self-preservation, would willingly allow a copy of the consciousness – even if it were code – to be imprisoned. Even more unlikely is that they would use the technology to force confessions out of lower level crimes. It could only imply that the technology is widespread and inexpensive. If it were, it suggests that there should be more sophisticated methods available that could extract a consciousness that coded pure informational memory, taking away the whole imprisoned consciousness! conundrum.

    The concept of blocking someone could also have been polished. It’s strange that blocking constitutes of making another a huge, conspicuous, static mess who still makes rather loud – albeit muffled – sounds. Isn’t it way easier to tune out another human being than something so unnatural and obviously distinct from everyone else!?

    Charlie Brooker wrote this episode, like he did the other amazing ones. I can only guess that the pressure of an 80 minutes episode forced his hand at expanding the scope of his new tech theme. In almost all episodes there was a tight and elaborated focus on one technology (social media, memory chips, dead people imitator); in White Christmas it took on both in-person blocking devices and the cookie extractor. Perhaps it was this that muddied his ability to troubleshoot the viability of his tech creations. The moral implications of both technologies were also pretty divergent, without ever converging to deliver a singular message as happened in all other BM episodes. Given that this is the main factor for BM’s success, i’d say White Christmas failed its predecessors.

    The last gripe i have is its predictability, which was so, so deliciously absent in all other episodes. Every past episode shocked me in ways my new-media sensation-craving being yearned for (okay yes, i double checked, at least one satiating surprise in each). This episode, however, i knew the kid was Tim’s. Even more offensively is perhaps that Tim wasn’t a casual Asian seamlessly folded into the plot – he wasn’t even a bloody token Asian. HE WAS THERE BECAUSE HIS ETHNICITY PROVIDED A PLOT DEVICE. So we could have Potter immediately recognize the Asian child and realize she’s not his. So: predictable + Asian as convenient plot device otherwise would not have been Asian.

    TLDR: I loved Black Mirror series 1 and 2, but was quite disappointed with the Christmas special.

    January 17, 2015

  • New year, new places

    The year started out well, as it always is when friends are featured.

    Tail end of 2014 spent having a simple Ya Kun breakfast with Ben, Cat and Cleo. Missed Gee a lot, because YK is her thing. Being emotionally dysfunctional we expressed this by cruelly sending her photos of YK. Poor girl. Lazy morning meet-ups are my favorite, before anything begins, when we have nowhere to rush too.

    Spent the stretch of Christmas and New Year with the extended family (including J’s), which i haven’t done for awhile. It has been friends or J for the past several years. Made a conscious choice to stay home this year.

    Also managed to catch up with Ben with Daf before Ben leaves. She’s always been the one constant always popping up whenever the Mugs meet, without her around i’m not sure if we’ll even get the chance to… :-(

    On the other hand: i have a class with Shereen Keng, AGAIN, after 6 years! So at least ONE mug would have her face around mine. SMU days are nice, because TWO! DAY! WORK! WEEK! And having to see all my pretty A16 boys and girls – the familiarity is so comforting. Envy them for having this throughout uni.

    Yesterday, met up with LPS and Debs. Spent 4 hours chatting, with these 2 there’s really no end to conversations. LPS will be away this semester, but already i’ve seen her face more than i did since Uni.

    Discovered new places with J. One day we decided to go somewhere we haven’t been to, and found an open place with good food and kitschy trinkets to browse – pretty much our only two criteria for a good place.

    wpid-img_20150111_194427.jpg

    wpid-img_20150111_195050.jpg

    Cutesy old school things. I love just walking around being amused with J. It’s a very grassroots activity, admittedly, but the trite proverb of simplicity as best proves itself rather true.

    DSC00300

    Went to Trick Eye with my family. Tbh it was pretty underwhelming. We agreed that if my dad hadn’t gotten complimentary tickets, it wouldn’t have been worth paying for. Most of the exhibits were under construction; the lighting was bad for photo taking, and the exhibits just… weren’t very well thought out.

    Still, time with family.

    January 14, 2015

  • Book Review: Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

    Yesterday I was up till 3am reading this contemporary fiction. This is surprising because usually my off-switch is activated at 11pm, and I’d drift into unconsciousness by 12. I’m not sure if it’s a compelling novel, or if my coffee was too strong that morning – but anyway, I finally finished it today morning.

    I have contradictory feelings on this one, summed up by my description of it as a family drama through and through. It engrosses you, but on a more basal than intellectual manner. It is akin to watching a Korean soap. You can’t stop because it spurs on feelings of injustice and morbid fascination we all face towards another family’s misfortune; but it so blatantly flouts literary rules and common sense, it’s hard to tout it as a work of genius.

    Most glaringly, it fully exercises the Idiot Plot trope, which in – oh idk – EVERY SINGLE ASIAN DRAMA THERE IS. Seriously, each family member basically lived out extreme misery, inflicted upon one another, just because no one fucking tells each other anything. It’s difficult to sympathize with the characters when they could’ve prevented their predicament by simply saying, “I want to pursue a medical degree, can we find a way to do this?” instead of backing out of your children and husband’s lives soundlessly to re-enter school. I mean. Just.

    The one redeeming hook of this novel, and which makes it a family drama at its very core, is the uninhibited use of pathos. Idiot Plot though it is, the family is driven straight into the cesspit of guilt and anger and loneliness – a wreck you cannot turn away from. It is also decently written, with all the tones of Jodi Picoult and assorted mainstream contemporary. Because I’m not a hipster, mainstream does not take on a negative connotation: it’s everything pretty and distilled, neat and sufficiently arousing to the very same emotions that compel housewives to soap operas.

    It’s not that I’m a snob, but after sinking into the same contemporary narratives, I’m craving a little post-modern. Not in obnoxious amounts, but just something more offbeat and able to slice through thick indulgent pathos.

    January 5, 2015

  • Loss

    January 2016

    There are some losses you cannot prepare for. Before realizing this, I spent the year rehearsing a grief. You were still here. Your elbow wedged below my rib, my hands anchored along your jaw, our faces so close only the crescent of a single eye was in focus. I would imagine sorrow in all its shades: the salty, gritty twisting of guts and hot, dizzying tears; my lungs practiced emptying themselves. Half-heartedly I bat at the teasing hope lodged vaguely between us (you might stay, you might stay).

    I guess it is easier to imagine something than nothing, which was what remained. Where you were, a blank length – a reluctant marathon I did not want to start. I did not cry because there was no one to cry to. There was no elbow to prompt a tangible pain, no cheek to press against my palm as blueprint to navigate loss. My tongue became sandpaper, rasp with unanticipated silence.

    Ceteris paribus, you once said as a punchline to a joke I cannot remember (except that you told it with a lilting grin and expectant eyes). Perhaps that is the hardest part of all: that all else remains constant. I remember you in everything else left behind. Once, I caught myself turning to where you would have been, your name hitched right at the base of my throat, hastily swallowed, embarrassed for no one.

    A year ago you would have stirred and – half-awake – pulled me in, away from my careful plans of being alone, leaving them crumpled and frivolous. Now I stand gaping, the shape of your name still tingling against my paper-thin lungs like an unfinished arc of a question mark

    January 4, 2015

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