It’s 2018 and I’m still here! That in itself calls for tiny celebratory claps.
I have been feeling fulfilled but unmotivated recently. If you get what I mean. Everyday there are things I look forward to, I’m happy, I’m doing things. But there’s an unknown force telling me that I can’t just be – I need to m o v e f o r w a r d.
World, teach me how to slow down and enjoy you as you are.
//
For the rest of the year, I only have two (okay three) goals I want to fulfil:
Keep up with the news – even if just the headlines
Finish reading all the books I start, and start reading my stockpiled collection of non-fics
Either heal my leg (with stretches) or keep going with my work out routine
C’MON YOU CAN DO IT QING, don’t let the mid-year slump take you down!
I recently discovered Bo Burnham, and within the span of a week have watched all of his works (much to my chagrin) — several times over.
There’s not one aspect of him I can’t gush about. How his acts are a mix of theatre, lights, soundscape, song. How he isn’t just funny, but he’s funny with a point. Like actual, important and relevant human issues. And most of all what I love love love about Bo is how genuine he is. He is the most truthful artist I’ve seen. He’s just the most artist I’ve seen. I love him.
Guys, I’ve re-watched each of his numbers at least three times. Maybe four. I can sing-along to all his acts by now, and I know where his best jokes are dropped. But each time I watch it there’s still something new to be gained. Wtf!!!
I tried to sieve through all his numbers to find my favorite, but I couldn’t because everything is good. Wtf.
We Think We Know You
This shit blew my mind. When it transited into a soundscape, I felt all my brain synapses light up in utter joy. It just sounded … good. Stuck in my mind for DAYS on end, this shite.
More than that I related to this in a very personal way. Confession: I teared up. There was a time I grew up from crazed loudmouth to a crazed slightly-quieter-in-public. And I’ve had people telling me how much I’ve changed. How they miss the old me. It was always said with a tinge of disappointment, a wary or nostalgic look in their eyes. I’ve had friends (okay, friend) cry over how I’ve changed.
It made me feel so insecure, like I was a lesser version of myself. Or worse — that I wasn’t myself. You have no idea how the fear plagued me then. That I lost some part of me essential to my identity.
It took me years to realize that the only real me is how I choose to define it. It doesn’t matter what they want to see, or how they want me to be. I can change anyway I want to. Even if it means some friends find this alienating, even if they love me less.
Anyway, back to Bo. The format is gimmicky, but his message is far from it. I like that it was the last segment of the show, as he usually places the songs that are most real to him. I can feel his frustration, his indignation, his insecurities at being told how he should be, and what he’s not. By people who simply don’t know him but presume to. I don’t think, in crafting this song, he’s simply criticizing those who claim to know him. I think he also grapples with caring about what they think.
Oh yes and, speaking of little Easter eggs you catch after a second or third watch: where he points downwards and Satan chimes in? YEAH when he points upwards and cricket sounds punctuating silence rang out. THAT MOMENT. Took me a couple of watches to catch it.
Every moment of his show is tight, tightly packed with references, layers, meaning.
Sad
The world’s so sad, Madison
Pain, war, genocide, racism, sexism
But I gotta remember there’s good things about it too
Like the fact that none of that’s happening to me, score!
That’s it, laughter, it’s the key to everything
It’s the way to solve all the sadness in the world
I mean, not for the people that are actually sad, but for the people like us who’ve gotta fucking deal with ’em all the time
I saw a woman at her daughter’s funeral. Ha ha ha! Classic comedy!
Everything that once was sad is somehow funny now
The Holocaust and 9/11
That shit’s funny 24/7
‘Cause tragedy will be exclusively joked about,
Because my empathy is bumming me out
He’s not afraid to call people out where it really cuts. Not just idiots, Trump, racists, sexists. Those are low hanging fruit. He calls all of us out. The ones who think we’re doing okay. We recycle and believe in gender equality. But there’s more we can do and be, and Bo reminds us of that.
That we need to care more. Not just believe in broad beliefs and rights, but truly feel and have empathy. The way the entertainment industry has turned Trump being President into the biggest inside joke of the liberals, a running gag we can all participate in. But beyond that we need to truly feel the fear right? We need to laugh – and then pay attention and realize how much of a tragedy this actually is.
God’s Perspective
And yet for all his cynicism, at the heart of all his work Bo is hopeful. I truly think the reason why he cuts all the crap and dives straight into the real problems is because he knows we can do better. Why address problems if you don’t believe they can be solved, right?
You pray so badly for heaven
Knowing any day might be the day that you die
But maybe life on earth could be heaven
Doesn’t just the thought of it make it worth the try?
Bo can spend 80% of the song telling you you’re not going to heaven. Bleak? But then he brings in a message that makes him a greater romantic than any of us are. Life on Earth, for him, can be heaven. He believes in love, and he has such hope for our time here. And he wants us to try, guys!!! When Bo asks, how can I say no.
I Can’t Handle This Right Now
This act made me sob like a bitch.
One of the hardest things about performing is putting your real self – along with your vulnerabilities – up on stage. Here he so frankly talks about his relationship with his audience! About the very fear he has right now. Onstage. Addressing them all.
This was personally inspirational, as a performer myself. How do I be truthful with my audience the way he is? How do I let go of my self when onstage, and put the objective of my performance first?
My somewhat (very) superstitious mind likes to believe that the poetry I’ve written over the years are prophetic. A vignette of a future yet to come. To be more academically accurate: my subconscious realization of what might inevitably happen manifests itself in written word.
I wrote this with him in mind. It would be more than a year before we ended.
We remember each other in fragments.
Years later the 4 by 6 glossy you’ve kept is nothing. She is looking at a separate you and has a smile you don’t recognize. You scratch guilt thoughtlessly along the edge where a date (of what?) was scribbled. Her blue-black ink, immutable from time and travel, doesn’t smear.
Instead it comes back to you in the most heedless moments: autumn in the subway, your own face flickering back at you like a broken picture-film. There in a panic is her: above, the clink of gold against teeth; a slide of citrus sealing in feinted sleep, your own laughter filtered in a cloud of hair without subtitles.
You let it rumble through you – freight train of years past – and surfacing, find yourself the same person as before.
•••
I have not written, properly written, for a long time. If I were to put a date to it, since I’ve met HS. The syrup of love is sweet and heavy, it cloys the literary of my brain into lethargy.
There is no want, no tension between our wants. There is no spiralling into insanity (anymore). There is, by extension, no juice to fuel my poems. For they are always truthful, always an extrapolation of what I see feel think or touch.
What can I write about that isn’t trite? The way holding your hand relaxes every atom of my being? Or how we laugh at the same beat of a joke and there is nothing I cannot say to you?
In our relationship, I’m the one with all the words.
I tell you, in the minutiae, why I like you, what I like about you, how I would feel without you, what life was before, with, after you.
Your words, though they are much, are not for feelings. You show in actions how you feel. But you let me and my myriad of words do what they want to. I’m not sure if they do anything for you, but you listen patiently and carefully anyway.
•••
I wonder when I’ll next write. Why do I only ever get inspired by loss, death, or insanity? Sometimes a combination of all three.
I have started the habit of journaling my days in obsessive detail, this time in a private diary, and it has been wonderful. I remember the exact days where I had a dizzy spell; the one funny thing Hanshen said that made me almost wet my pants laughing; the dishes we ordered at that cafe in BKK that’s bound to come in handy someday.
//
Hi Cel, I find myself missing you a lot recently. In your most recent email you said you think about me often, almost every day. I think about our childhood, the funny things we did or said, how innocent and simple those times were. I think about how much we grew together, the nights we spent talking our self-discoveries, our struggles, our hopes – always ending with a routine round of appreciation that we have each other; this friendship.
We went to BKK last week – Xin, Rei, Beni, Becks and I. You might have been on this trip too, if you were around. It was as fun as you’d imagine it to be. I will write about it to you soon. Xin planned it, and as you would guess, it ended up with us going to many un-explored hipster areas and cafes. I’m so glad we did: it was a side of BKK I haven’t seen before. The local artist scene is so vibrant, so organic, that I’m beyond inspired!
And of course, going with decade long friends who love you but will also easily kill you, is an experience in itself.
Opening the door at midnight to Becky and Xin’s ridiculous poses after their Rod Fai trip. Having amazing toasts for breakfast. Traipsing the vintage section of Chatuchak, the streets of Chinatown. Finding a giant pink squid sculpture to take our group photos – hangry beyond words behind our smiles. Hyping up garlic toasts and dealing with Beck’s cynicism with our hypes. Xin chasing down a cab two blocks because she left her tote in it. Many, many cafes. Many, many OOTDs. Mornings and nights spent laughing with Becky about this and that, while in the next room a meltdown ensues over luggage space. Our last day, heroically saved by Baby Driver.
when i look back at just a year or two ago, i’m surprised at how much i’ve grown. not changed – but grown. change i’ve had plenty of experience with.
and i’m proud of myself.
from someone who always thought of herself as ‘unambitious’, content to do whatever job she’s assigned well and sign off for the day; to this, today, someone who loves the hat she accidentally fell into. off work, i find myself consuming podcasts, articles, and (finally) non-fiction. i no longer feel the itch to pop open social media to numb my mind. i feel fulfilled, but no longer content. everyday i want to learn more, be more.
i found someone who enables and challenges me in all the right ways. someone who doesn’t force me to grow up because of circumstances, but encourages me to do so by example. where i was once consumed by ideals of possessive, all-encompassing, centre-of-my-world type relationships, i’ve been shown how to put myself front and centre. to be grounded, to balance, and then to love.
but one evening, inexplicably, i felt disgusted by how impatient i’ve become. how i’m quick to judge, quick to be annoyed by strangers. i’ve become so blind to the fact that everyone lives their own lives with their struggles and frustrations. why am i so desensitized to the pains of others, sometimes even my friends. why is my first reaction to think the worst of strangers based on their singular action. and most of all, schadenfreude.
in my impatience with others, i’d think “haha orbiquek” when they’re inconvenienced after inconveniencing me. and it disgusts me to even have these thoughts. that is has become my instinct to have them.
NPR’s Hidden Brain podcast on envy perfectly encapsulated the type of person who would have schadenfreude. It is the one emotion we surpress, never revealing them to others because it’s simply not socially appropriate to express joy at another’s misfortune. Beyond that, to admit that you’re glad of another’s misfortune shows that you harbored feelings of envy to begin with, and by admitting that you’re admitting to feeling inferior, to wanting what you don’t have.
for the past weeks i’ve been trying my hardest to stem negative thoughts. the judgement that has come so naturally to me. the temptation to gossip and speak with ill intent. i’m still selfish – i’m doing it not so much to benefit others as it is for my self. because it feels so much better to not be saturated with negative thoughts and judgements of others, because i can look at myself and respect the person i am. still in the works, but i’ll keep going.
First of, I cannot. believe. I didn’t post about Taiwan – my first ever solo trip, back in January. THE TRAVESTY. It might be nice to revisit memories someday in this space. For now, though –
JAPAN!
A snapshot of my time there, by no means a comprehensive log of all i’ve seen and done.
Landed in Narita! Relatively smoothly, compared to my mis-adventurous solo trip to Taiwan.
Had my first glimpse of the utter cuteness Japanese kids embody. They, as YQ describes, have a sense of wonder about them. This little boy travelling home from school seemed straight out of an anime please.
In the city area this is about what Japan looks like – lots of neon lights affixed on pretty shabby looking buildings. In later days i’ll find more hipster looking streets that are much quainter and pleasant – but mainly Tokyo is this:
One of my first tourist-y destinations: Meiji-Jingu park and shrine!
More adorable kids:
Headed to Harajuku looking for eats, and wandered upon a rather long queue. Because i’m Singaporean, this boded well and YES i stumbled upon a gyoza shop apparently highly raved about.
It was not bad, but my first love will always be succulent jiao zi with bursting meat fillings.
Headed to Asakusa the next day to visit Sensoji shrine! Asakusa was one of my favorite places on this trip – there was an old street full of traditional eats. I had 2 mochis and ice cream for breakfast that day.
I wandered 15 minutes deeper into the residential areas to find Imado shrine, the birthplace of zhao cai mao! Learnt that it was also a shrine dedicated to romance. There was a sweet couple there praying i think for their upcoming marriage.
One of the best finds in Asakusa – this meat filled korroke!!
The sun sets very early in autumn, by 5pm it’s dark as night.
Ueno the next day! Next to the station is that famous tourist food street – which is quite gimmicky. I didn’t find anything great there. But i did have goma ice cream for breakfast again.
Ueno park is beautiful! Although my photo does it no justice. Relatively new compared to the other parks, extremely spacious, with so much to do! It seems like the park that locals (especially students) head to for outings.
It’s also littered with many, many shrines.
The bad lot rack, where people tie any lots they draw with bad luck indicated haha.
Queer looking tree.
Like Gyoza-ro, another accidental find that turned out to be a cult favorite! This is along Ameyoko, the tourist trap of a food street.
This was my first foray into sashimi in Japan. You really CAN taste the difference! Fresh, like it was straight out of the sea. The rice, however, tastes like homemade rice from a Singapore household. None of that vinegary, pearl grain goodness.
Mama shop of the Japanese variety.
Where people bought plaques to write wishes on and hang on trees/these prayer racks. You can find them in every shrine in Tokyo. Truth be told it’s a money sinkhole. Not that i’m immune to it – bought one at almost every shrine i visited HAHA because kiasi Singaporean.
AND FINALLY – TAISHOKEN RAMEN. The birthplace of Tsukkemen ramen, elevated to celebrity status on Mind of a Chef!
And it was as. good. as. expected. BETTER! The noodles were honest to God the best, springiest ramen i’ve had. None of that noodle aftertaste, just pure unadulterated shiok-ness. Just the right amount of al dente, and so refreshingly chilled. It pairs so well with the tsukkemen dip i cannnn’t. Oh and the chilli was great too!
Joined Darren and Yao Nian at a Izakaya place in Waseda. This is the friendly student waiter. In fact everyone that night was very friendly. The bossman gave us a round of free sake and had a good chat with this cute old man wandering straight out of a Miyazaki film.
The next day we headed to the Gingko tree festival~ Autumn is such a pretty time to be here.
We headed to Kichijoji, just to have Kakigori – amazing shaved ice. Passed by Inokashira park which was one of the most beautiful locations i’ve been to in Tokyo!
Wandered Kichijoji for the rest of the day which was such a great decision. So many indie shops to browse, and we kept stopping because SO many tempting snacks.
One my last full day in Tokyo, Zephyr brought me to Tsujiki! We had omakase – i was a very happy child that afternoon. It was worth the hour long wait. Crammed in a tiny little space, warm and satisfied.
Slowly made our way towards Shinjuku/Harajuku. Our pilgrimage to this Theobroma Chocolatier! Had a wonderful tea there. Fulfilling my Yumeiro Patisserie dreams.
An example of the shop layout i absolutely love in Tokyo. By the streets, so uniquely designed, and often extending downwards into the basement. There’s something very cosy and quaint about these shops! Wish H was around cos this is so much his thing. I took so many photos of just shopfronts for him lol.
Our food journey didn’t take much of a pause. It was basically food location to food location, with some shopping in between. For dinner we had Luke’s lobster, which we were both very excited about! It didn’t disappoint! Crusty, buttery bread with the crunchiest lobsters! And a pleasant kick of pepper. It was better topped with Sriracha sauce too.
Ended our night in the most quintessentially Japanese way – with rounds of purikura! This was so much fun i have so much feels to do it again in Singapore HAHAHA.
I never realized how attached i felt to Earth – and nature, really – until recently. Attached may be too casual a term. It’s a strong sense of … belonging, love, emotional connection, to this place we inhabit.
Yes, it’s always been on my agenda to stay green as much as i can, within the realm of comfort. I’m a convenient environmentalist, you can say. Although i did once have a mental meltdown crying in my dorm because i accidentally printed a thick bunch of notes one-sided by accident. I felt like i’d manually chopped down 10 trees and robbed 10 ecosystems of their home. Anyway.
The first hints of this overwhelming emotional bond i hold for Earth would probably be when i first read Station Eleven. Without giving away too much, there was an apocalypse, and civilization was no longer as it was. Although not explicitly nature, i felt the utter loss of a world once ours. This line, particularly, cut too close to home:
Recently, i picked up The 100 on Netflix (and have since blazed through two seasons haha). It’s such a fantastic show in itself – the natural gender equality, the moral dilemmas, the fantastical settings, the character developments and the strategies. But that deserves a post on it’s own.
Earth has been irradiated for a hundred years, and generations of mankind were circulating up in space in an Ark. They learn about life on Earth through literature, films, word of mouth. When the Ark became unsustainable, they had to venture down onto Earth. This was late into the first season, when Abby (one of the older adults) who have lived her whole life up in a spaceship, found her way to Earth. She steps out into vast waters, the brilliant sunlight, the trees and mountains. She couldn’t stop drinking everything in, just standing there in absolute rapture.
On her headset, she communicated with the Chancellor who had no chance of heading down.
“Tell me what it’s like.”
“It’s so green, there are trees everywhere. It’s just like I imagined. And the air… it’s… Sweet.”
At this point i straight out ugly cried and couldn’t stop.
I could feel, so acutely, the pain and loss of being away from Earth, our natural home, where we were formed from dust — where we were dust for billions of years. I felt such an immense longing, an appreciation, and joy, all at once, for being here on my natural grounds. It was then i realized that Singapore wasn’t my home, Asia wasn’t my home, my true home was Earth.
—
Yesterday, i attended The Lesson by Drama Box.
The premise was simple: of seven sites, we had to collectively choose one to evict.
The halfway home: A place for rehabilitation of drug addicts and offenders.
Columbarium: Has a rich history and houses the remains of our ancestors.
Wet market: A place of significance for the elderly who are friendly with the sellers. For sellers, their livelihood depends on the market.
Marshland:It had rich biodiversity and houses many of plants and animals. Only 0.02% of Singapore remains as marshland.
Cinema: An old cinema, seldom used, that runs Indian films on the weekends and is a place where migrant workers gather.
Flea market: The only remaining market where it is rental free for sellers. Their livelihood depends on it.
Rental homes: Houses underprivileged residents who have lived there for years.
The choice for me was simple:
If i had to protect one place – it would be the marshes. There were many pertinent points brought up by others at the event:
– Marshland cannot be transplanted or replicated, unlike man-made buildings. Once destroyed, its unique ecosystem is lost forever.
– If there are only 0.02% of marshland left in Singapore, why are we so hellbent on destroying something of great rarity?
– The effects of destroying nature might not be immediately felt, but it will show itself for our next generations.
– That nature had no voice of its own to stand up for itself. It has no sob story or sad old people we can relate to or sympathize. But just because it doesn’t have that angle of human interest it doesn’t make it any less significant.
Don’t get me wrong, i feel for the plight of the underprivileged, for rehabilitating offenders, for migrant workers. I really do. But to me it’s about whether there are alternatives, and considering these alternatives, which eviction would cause the least/most damage?
I chose to evict the cinema. I do believe in fighting for the well-being of migrant workers, which was the main argument against evicting their place of gathering. BUT, i don’t feel that this particular cinema has great bearings to their well-being. There are alternative locations to social gathering. Sad stories about migrant workers and their hard lives here is moving, but distracts from the fact that they are irrelevant to the objective importance of this site. In short, evicting the cinema has the least collateral damage done.
One realization struck me, hard, yesterday as i observed everyone making their choices and explaining why they protected certain sites. Many of them started with “I have personally encountered offenders / I’ve worked with migrant workers / I regularly talk to wet market hawkers.”
Right. Even though i personally have a soft spot for the columbarium holding my grandfather’s remains (i’ve never met him and always associated him with this location i’ve visited since infancy), but why should PERSONAL sentiment rule when making a decision that affects community as a whole?
Why is YOUR personal encounter with a rehab offender any more important than another’s personal encounter with an underprivileged rental resident??? Your singular experience doesn’t allow for a broader appreciation of cost and benefit. I’m not saying any of their suffering is irrelevant, but how do we minimize suffering WITH ALL POSSIBLE VICTIMS HELD EQUAL?
As a human race, we need to look beyond our immediate selves. What does our world need, what do our future generations need? How do we decide beyond what directly relates to or affects us? If stripping down a site of sentiment is robbing you of a fond memory, what have we done to the land? We have robbed 99.98% of nature from this land we stand on. We need to see beyond ourselves to appreciate the broader implications of tearing down nature.
I felt VERY AGITATED yesterday when we were asked to stand at the location we would evict, and i saw that some chose the marshland.
I know everyone is given freedom of choice and opinion.
But. I can’t help. Boiling.
To me, it’s the most self-centred who cannot see beyond what directly impacts their lives. And this is my theory on all the greenhouse-hoax declarers. Trump is a perfect example. He is a piping infant who cannot comprehend making a decision that doesn’t immediate gratify himself.
And that’s how i see anyone who doesn’t give a damn about harming mother earth just because it still seems fine and sunny right now. Look beyond your damn little bubble. Think about the future, think about broad implications.
Breathe. I need to breathe.
—
We have taken too much from this beautiful, generous land that borne us. It makes me sad.
That said, i chanced upon this song after my rampant raging for Momma Earth. It came at an opportune time and i’m v moved.
Earth is a beautiful young girl, dying but still smiling. This is for you Planet Earth.
Read my archives from all the way back in lower secondary (they’re all privatized FYI, i’m hyper-paranoid when it comes to cyber information).
Felt a sense of homecoming. Writing here is where I feel most myself, the me that remains constant through the past decade.
Yes my writing has changed vastly, what I write about is far from my teenage ramblings. People important to me, some have stayed and others left. New people. New friendships with old friends. I used to post with astounding frequency: three posts a day at my best. These days I have maybe one post every three months. I, myself, have grown so much. But there is something there – a voice, a shade of something – that I recognize as distinctly myself.
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.
Q 