THE PROPHET

Here are snippets of the poem The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, quoted in The Road Less Travelled. I thought they were meaningful, so I’m bookmarking it here to share it, as well as a mental note to myself to read it in its entirety, sometime.

(Also: I really need replacement earphones soon, ‘cos geez, conversations in the train in Singapore are so mundane and boring, completely unlike in LA - spoken from experience, nor in New York - spoken from reading @overheardnewyork on Instagram.)

The Prophet: —

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. 

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you
    cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them
    like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows
    are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and
    He bends you with His might that His arrows may go
    swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also
    the bow that is stable.

Another snippet from The Prophet: —

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. 

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of
   you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver
   with the same music. 

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s
    shadow.

SEB’S

Another day of sun, another night of fun. Girls will somehow always pay me more attention than guys do. You strip off all your clothes and lay on your bed, you pry open your laptop, then think “not tonight, I am too tired.” He missed a belt loop discovered only when Phoebe was checking for muscles in spasm. They take their coffee with no sugar, donuts with peanut butter and jelly filling are just for the ‘gram. What would Newton think? What would Jesus do? She wants to learn a new language, not for the sake of knowing a new language to converse in, but to get over the fact that she took Korean lessons with her ex. Mochi is the name of my real-life cat, but one time I played one of my favourite games, Harvest Moon, and I named my dog Wasabi, afterwhich I have always wanted to own a dog in real life and call him or her Wasabi. How do you verify the credibility of an alibi, especially before the advent of closed circuit footage? Piranhas live in freshwater, and I have a phobia of sharks. If the most powerful president in the world is one who has not earned the respect of his own people, what is the actual true worth of people over, say, a pack of wolves or hyenas? We are all made of stars, but some stars will always shine brighter than others, some are invisible and discovered only through their gravitational pull on other entities and some are supermassive black holes. What kind of star are you?

FROZEN THINGS THEY ALL UNFREEZE

and now I taste like all those frozen strawberries
I used to chill your bruising knees

I spent time with my best friend last night, wherein she said sometimes I say things that reek of skinny privilege, like “I look good in everything” when we discussed bridesmaid dresses last week. It’s not like I’m unaware that the fashion industry is completely ridiculous in always sizing down outfits and making more of the smaller sizes so that society is pressured to conform and fit in, I also follow body-positive bloggers and think they are gorgeous whatever size they are, and still, sometimes I say stupid shit like “I look good in everything” and forget to acknowledge that it is because the industry is catered to skinny-ass, curveless people like me.

The Road Less Travelled is indeed my favourite book and one of the things on my bucketlist would be to get everyone I know to read it at least once. There is a section that talks about how love is not a feeling but wilful action, and perhaps 28 is a little late to learn it, perhaps it is just the right time, but every word I read in the book resonates strongly with me.

I have had boyfriends and dates and lovers, for whom I might have had the loving feeling for, and for whom I would have or did make effort to love. I fought fiercely with my family about them, or I reflected upon myself again and again, wondering whether I did something wrong to upset them, or I re-thought my life plan and tried to speed things up to accommodate someone else’s needs, or you get the gist.

With each of these people, I wanted to be loved, and they might have had the loving feeling for me, they may have enjoyed being mutually attracted to me, the endless conversations about TV, or music, or social justice and politics, or cats, or teaching me to drive, or showing me their workplace, or you get the gist. But none of them actually loved me in the sense that they were willing to put in effort into loving me. When love becomes work, none of them wanted it, and according to the book, which I cannot deny, it is because I didn’t put in attention towards myself.

I love people, and I’m always talking about other people, but I haven’t put in the same effort into loving myself and improving myself and making myself the best version of me I can be. People love people who are passionate about things, and it is a weird request to get one man to start loving a girl whose passion has empirically always been other men.

For some reason, yesterday I thought of what my real dad said when I miscarried. He said “I didn’t think you liked kids that much, that always seemed to be Lyssa” and perhaps it was not his intention but what I heard was “you’re better off without it, anyway.” It’s funny how my own parent would assume certain things about me although they had not lived with me and put in no effort into raising me as a person for two entire decades. It is no wonder I don’t know how to choose love for myself, I have not had concrete examples of proper loving relationships from my role models. I am starting from ground zero, but I guess 28 is not too late.

MMM-BOP

A couple of weeks ago, my family of six went for dinner and conversation got a bit heated. My parents started out by positing that character is genetic, which is why although Melyssa never lived with our dad (hers and mine), there are certain traits he has that she has, as well.

Of course, myself being the argumentative lawyer-wannabe, I said that character has nothing to do with genes, and that it is all entirely learned and emulated. At that point, Mel and I weren’t too friendly with each other yet, but she also said for my parents’ benefit “as a Science student, I can tell you that character and personality are not passed on through genes.”

There are times when our two younger half-sisters, who are half-Chinese and half-Malay, say things that are ludicrous and incredible to hear, that stem from their Chinese privilege (you know how there is white privilege in the Western world, well in Singapore there is Chinese privilege and neither Mel nor I benefit from nor enjoy it, with the exception of through our Chinese stepdad — that then means on Lunar New Year, we also collect red packets of money, HE HE HE).

When this happens, when our two younger teenage sisters say things that remotely flaunt their Chinese privilege, Mel and I stop them and tell them why it isn’t okay to do so, and that their experiences are not necessarily the collective experience of the minority races in Singapore.

My mother is forty-six this year (yeah, she had me when she was eighteen: and yes, Gilmore Girls used to be our favourite mother-daughter bonding show), and you know how they say when you reach forty years old, your opinions and beliefs are set in stone and it is damn near impossible to change your mind about anything?

I hope that when I reach forty, I will still know when to admit I’m wrong, I will still reflect upon ideas and make the right moral judgment about things, I will still be flexible enough to think about the inherent value of anything, from homosexuality to BDSM to open marriages to I dunno, whatever.

SOME THINGS

I was telling my colleague Mavis that I’m a bridesmaid for two weddings this year, once for my best friend Atiqah and another for my cousin Hazwani. Both are people I love very dearly, but I was lamenting the fact that they are getting married while I am still single. Mavis then said, “well, you should be happy that you’re a bridesmaid for them, it means that they really cherish you and y’all are close enough for them to share one of their happiest days with you” and I realised, holy crap she just spat some truth bars right there. Two of my most favourite people in this world of seven billion, are getting married and they want me to be a special part of that, and I am so grateful.

I love Hamilton: An American Musical and Lin-Manuel Miranda’s portrayal of Alexander Hamilton and I know, Sarah, I know you love the ideals of freedom and truth and defending to the death the principles you believe in and I know you want every line to be about you but you are not A. Ham. I know you are a surprise bastard child in the traditional sense of the word, and I know sometimes you feel orphaned and you’ve always learned to fend for yourself and you love to read and to write but you are not him. The musical is not about you, and the line “you never learned to take your time” does not have to apply to you. You can and should take your time, in love and in study and at work. Hamilton lived in the 1700s, and their lifespans were not as long as you have it now, so he had to always be hustling, but you don’t. Take time to breathe. It is okay to miss out on some things for the sake of other things. “Look around, look around, at how lucky you are, to be alive right now.” Look how loved you are, look at how you envy the people who can do Math, and dance, and sing and play instruments, and look at how they envy you for being able to write exactly the way you want to. You are as honest as it gets. Use it wisely, don’t write yourself into ruin the way Hamilton did.

My iPhone’s earphones are spoilt ‘cos something spilt in my bag and wet pretty much all its contents so now I have to get replacement iPhone7 earphones because it has the weird lightning cable connector and not the usual earphone jack. Oh Apple you will be the death of me. When you made my iPhone7 waterproof why did you not do the same for the accompanying earphones? I also have to get a new iPhone charger for Lyssa ‘cos hers is whacked and isn’t charging her phone properly so she has been sharing mine. My iPhone charger that I got from an Apple store at The Grove in LA, one and a half years ago. I don’t remember what happened to my previous charger before that, that I had to get one in LA. Did I lose it? Spoil it? Guess my memory isn’t infallible after all. Huh.

THE BEACH

This morning has been a little bit of a struggle. I feel like it’s finally time to make use of the fact that my workplace is only ten minutes away from the beach and head there after work tonight. I would like to see the stars and feel the sand and maybe I could use a short cry. If anyone reads this and is open tonight and would also like to be at the beach, lemme know. Otherwise, I’ll go on my own, that’s truly fine.

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

There are things I witness in my everyday life that do not sit very well with the things I value in my brain and heart and soul. Every time my mum or grandma tells me that my clothes are not what “a sweet girl” would wear, I think maybe I deserved all those times I was mistreated by men, maybe I am giving off the vibes that I am not “a nice girl” and all I want is to be toyed with. Perhaps it is growing up in a household with only girls, but I have never heard my family say to the boys that regardless what a person wears, he is not to touch her if she does not want to, that only yes means yes, that a girl who stays out with him past midnight can still be a good girl, that even as a man, he is not simply reduced to “boys will be boys”, that it is not on the girl, it is never on the girl, for a man who chooses to do something. A few months ago, a Malay Muslim woman was elected as Singapore’s president (although there were no votes, but that’s a whole notha story), and all I can remember is my uncle, with whom I grew up in the same household, saying “is this what we have come to? Is this what we were taught? That women can lead just the same as men?” and that’s when I realised the women’s activist groups I’d been in have been right for so long, that sometimes it is your very own flesh and blood that can be the most toxic, and the fact that you want to distance yourself from people whose values pervade your mental health, is not a bad thing. It is in the fact that the woman who raised me to believe that god makes you a better and more accepting person, then turned around to tell me I have made a grievous, shameful mistake, only because the same god said so, and not based on any logical proof, that I think “when will this fucking end?” If a person’s love for you is conditional upon whether you are a Muslim or share the same religious belief whichever it may be, then is that love, actually?

WHAT DO YOU MEANTHIS HAPPENED TO ME?

I’LL WRITE MY WAY OUT(WAIT FOR IT)

This morning (or was it last night, I can’t tell) I saw A post on Instagram that he was putting together the band and recording a demo of the song that he wrote, something he’d been wanting to do for years. I feel very proud of and excited for him. He also really looks like a qtpie in the photo. Ah, I miss him. Today I was whiling away time during my break at work and missing the times we’d talk about the everyday and the extraordinary to each other. It is a good thing his social media is all about as public as my own, so if I see a girlfriend on the horizon I can shut the hell up, lolol. I tried to do the 28 days without looking at his social media, and I managed to do it, but then I went right back to looking at it. He has no girlfriend and his profile is public, it is my prerogative to do whatever I want. Right? We launched Valentine’s items last weekend and I just want to ramble to him re: how pretty they are and how delicious they smell because: I dunno, I just do, I guess.

maybe she’s wrong
and just maybe I’m right

CHASING AMY

I saw a clip of Trump mouthing off on what he thinks are the visa lottery and chain immigration. On the one hand, I am glad I probably don’t hail from a country that he would deem a “shithole”, on the other, I really do want to be in the US so there are certain ideas I probably shouldn’t talk about.

Today my brain is trying to wrap itself around how conservatives are pissy about libs and safe spaces but their entire idea of building walls and keeping out people from non-similar backgrounds is inherently constructing what they think is the safest space for themselves. Death Eaters.

Imagine if I went around calling all white people Death Eaters.

DEPENDENCY

Passive dependency has its genesis in lack of love. The inner feeling of emptiness from which passive dependent people suffer is the direct result of their parents' failure to fulfill their needs for affection, attention and care during their childhood. It was mentioned in the first section that children who are loved and cared for with relative consistency throughout childhood enter adulthood with a deepseated feeling that they are lovable and valuable and therefore will be loved and cared for as long as they remain true to themselves. Children growing up in an atmosphere in which love and care are lacking or given with gross inconsistency enter adulthood with no such sense of inner security. Rather, they have an inner sense of insecurity, a feeling of 'I don't have enough' and a sense that the world is unpredictable and ungiving, as well as a sense of themselves as being questionably lovable and valuable. It is no wonder, then, that they feel the need to scramble for love, care and attention wherever they can find it, and once having found it, cling to it with a desperation that leads them to unloving, manipulative, Machiavellian behaviour that destroys the very relationships they seek to preserve. As also indicated in the previous section, love and discipline go hand in hand, so that unloving, uncaring parents are people lacking in discipline, and when they fail to provide their children with a sense of being loved, they also fail to provide them with the capacity for self-discipline. Thus the excessive dependency of the passive dependent individuals is only the principal manifestation of their personality disorder. Passive dependent people lack self-discipline. They are unwilling or unable to delay gratification of their hunger for attention. In their desperation to form and preserve attachments they throw honesty to the winds. They cling to outworn relationships when they should give them up. Most important, they lack a sense of responsibility for themselves. They passively look to others, frequently even their own children, as the source of their happiness and fulfilment, and therefore when they are not happy or fulfilled they basically feel that others are responsible. Consequently they are endlessly angry, because they endlessly feel let down by others who can never in reality fulfill all their needs or 'make' them happy. I have a colleague who often tells people, 'Look, allowing yourself to be dependent on another person is the worst possible thing you can do to yourself. You would be better off being dependent on heroin. As long as you have a supply of it, heroin will never let you down; if it's there, it will always make you happy. But if you expect another person to make you happy, you'll be endlessly disappointed.' As a matter of fact, it is no accident that the most common disturbance that passive dependent people manifest beyond their relationships to others is dependency on drugs and alcohol. Theirs is the 'addictive personality'. They are addicted to people, sucking on them and gobbling them up, and when people are not available to be sucked and gobbled, they often turn to the bottle or the needle or the pill as a people-substitute. In summary, dependency may appear to be love because it is a force that causes people to fiercely attach themselves to one another. But in actuality it is not love; it is a form of antilove. It has its genesis in a parental failure to love and it perpetuates the failure. It seeks to receive rather than to give. It nourishes infantilism rather than growth. It works to trap and constrict rather than to liberate. Ultimately it destroys rather than builds relationships, and it destroys rather than builds people.

The Road Less Travelled may turn out to be the most important book I have ever read and will ever read and become a favourite. The previous chunk of text seems a little like me in a nutshell, but hey, acceptance is the first step to recovery, right? Also, as long as I don't perpetuate the pattern with kids, I will have done one better.

MASS CLUCKING

My youngest sister (at least the one in my household, it takes too long to explain all my siblings) is watching an Elders React video on YouTube, and they’re watching the meme of Ugandan Knuckles. One of the elderly men watched a scene that had the closed captions [mass clucking] and he did the clucking sound and he said “I could have helped with this one” and I’m fecking ded, old people can be so precocious. I need some new music, my Spotify is made up of basically Selena Gomez, Lorde, Taylor Swift, the Hamilton soundtrack and mixtape, the La La Land OST and perhaps, Fall Out Boy circa my teenage years. I feel like I should really explore old songs, the other day my colleague played something by Tina Turner and she was positively affronted when I didn’t know what it was.

YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU

do you have to let it linger?

21/365:

I am on the way to work for a meeting afterwhich I’m back home for my off day. Yesterday while I was walking home from work, at midnight, there was a guy walking at my pace for a while, and in my head, I already thought “geez, not again” because I had been followed home and flashed by some pervert sometime before. I was mustering all my energy to face whatever it was, and turned, and saw it was freaking Perfiq. That’s not his real name but was once upon a time his Instagram handle, which was a perfect pun on his name, because my sister and I thought he was perfect. We used to work with him at the same café, and he always reminded me of Khalis, because Perfiq is also a drummer. He and his girlfriend post drum covers together now, and they’re like couple goals. Apparently Perfiq has been our neighbour all this while and we never knew, and this is amazing news, because he used to be our only eyecandy while we worked together. Man oh man, time flies. Speaking of Khalis, remember the times when he taught me to drum and we would never get anywhere because I would be nervous because I had the longest-standing biggest crush on him? Geez. He never even touched me. He’d seen me getting over my previous boyfriend and it took way too long so he knew if we ever did anything, I would be just as hung up over him so he didn’t. I haven’t seen Khalis since what, August? The first time I’d seen him since the miscarriage and we talked about it as if he was an interviewer, he was still floored. My life is wild. I had a crush on Khalis for what, six years? I only stopped, and I remember this extremely vividly because I said it to a best friend, because he’d put on a little weight, and I’m inherently attracted to very thin men. To be specific, the same size as I am. Any thinner and I’m not attracted to them, any bigger and I think they have more physical power than I do. So basically that’s a delicate balance for a man to navigate. I am a completely superficial disgusting specimen of a person, truly. But you know, I’m human and I don’t think my flaws are any worse than the best of them. Nobody said we have to be saints.

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIDE

This is gonna be a bit of a ramble, because I'm tired. Today has been a bit of a day, the way the past nineteen days have all been "a bit of a day" for some reason. Prepare yourself to follow this rollercoaster of a weird post.

So I found out that I'd dropped my wallet somewhere last night, and it was returned to the shoe cabinet outside our apartment, where my grandma discovered it this morning.

I was so glad it was returned and even gladder to have found that my cards and cash were all intact. I mean, given that it had been returned via cabinet, I wouldn't have known the identity of the person who'd returned it, and so if some money was missing, I would have accepted it. But nope, my forty dollars of bills were still there, and I didn't need to cancel my cards.

(P.S. the person found my address on the reverse of my identity card, for those of you who are not from Singapore / P.P.S. hello hi all of you I miss all of you, I promise to see all your faces soon)

Tbh, I was most worried about the ten-dollar note that I'd gotten and kept for its serial number. IT IS MY LUCKY CHARM and the fact that my wallet was returned to me is complete and legit proof that 2018 is my year, right.

In a completely different tangent, my sister Melyssa and I were not speaking to each other for a couple of months, which sucked. She has her moods when she's depressed, and I had my own moods, and this time it clashed so we just never talked.

Recently, we started talking again and it's always a wonder that we ever stop talking, because she is my best friend, and we understand each other the way only sisters understand each other. Also: we have a joke that when we don't talk to each other, neither of us has friends, because we're each other's only friends.

She sent me a comic strip about the meaninglessness of life that only she and I, of all our family members, would relate to.

So, back to the wallet story, right. I was at work, and I dunno, probably admiring my own Adventure Time boots or something, when a guy and a girl walk up, and I was gonna start talking to them the way Lush staff do, right.

The guy then looks at me, and asks, "are you my neighbour?" and I look at him, and say "I think so" because he definitely looked familiar, although if you asked me to pick him out of a police line-up of similar-looking men, I wouldn't be able to.

He asks, "do you have a pink Kate Spade wallet?" and I said, "yes I do, oh my god, are you..." and he says "yeah, I found it last night" and this time, he and his friend start giving each other looks. She says, "we were just talking about you!" to me, because apparently, my neighbour had found yet another wallet at the mall, and so he was telling her that he'd found my wallet and returned it last night.

There was an awkward pause of about a gazillion years, in which I wondered "did he Google my name and find out where I work and made all this up because this place is an hour and a half away from our block and I have never seen him outside of our block of apartments and what are the odds that he is here at my workplace the day after he returned my wallet, the odds are very very very stacked against that"

in which time I would guess he was also thinking "I hope she doesn't think I'm stalking her, how the hell am I at her workplace, an hour and a half away from our block of residence, the day after I returned her wallet"

and to end that weird pause, I gave him and his friend Random Act of Kindness items (just items from the inventory that we give to people we like and want to make the days of), and they left and that was a strange, straaaaaaange adventure to my day. I feel like the Adventure Time boots are giving me actual adventures!!!!!!!!!!

In any case, my bathroom cabinet is now a mini Lush store.

I am a little sad that I have accumulated so many bath bombs and bubble bars and do not have a bathtub to use them. Bubble baths are some of my favourite things in life, because I am bourgie af. But tbh I really love baths and Lush and lemme tell you why.

When I first realised that every month my period was giving me little panic attacks, because there was blood and blood at one point meant miscarriage, and I was starting to see my therapist, I also started working at Lush, and every day, despite being overwhelmed by life and needing to get out of bed, once I was at work and smelling all the different scents, I felt so... zen.

I love the smells at work, it means more than just essential oils, they mean a family that accept me no matter what I believe, or what I do with my body, etc etc. It means this company that buys ethically so that people in villages in Ghana have a sustainable income, it means a company that has not ventured into the China market (a very sizeable one, mind you) because China law requires that cosmetics companies test their products on animals, and Lush does not. It means this company that has lovely copy on its packaging, copy that one day I hope to write.

In any case, you know, the only thing I want when I'm an adult living by myself, is a bathtub in my apartment, no matter how small my apartment may be. The fact that I have a bathtub to relieve my stresses at the end of perhaps of every week, will be all I need to tell myself, this was all I wanted, and this means I have made it.

It has been a bit of a week. I think, I am pretty sure Adam and I are creeping on each other, perhaps because we are both middle school kids (I say, as if I know what middle school is) (I don't). Ah well, perhaps if I reach old age one day, all these middle-school-crushes will amuse me. I am twenty-seven, but acting seventeen. Not too bad, I guess. Life has no meaning, anyway, so.

oh no

A LOT LIKE LOVE

You know how they say the more you do something, the easier it becomes. Perhaps there is a little truth in that. In one of the NPR-TED episodes I listened to, a man spoke about how he was so deathly afraid of rejection that he never took the steps to fulfill a childhood dream he’d had. So he went on a journey of rejection, he went 100 days making requests of strangers, things he somewhat knew he would be rejected for, like an unreasonable loan amount, and so on. Day after day, he got a little bit used to it and he also got used to the fact that despite the rejection, he was still living and breathing and he was at the base of it all, actually okay. In fact, not all of his requests were rejected, apparently a few people said yes against his expectations. I did not want to write this, because I have done this so many times before, perhaps too many times before, and it has never amounted to much. But then I think to myself, if I have done it for so many men who only wanted my body without even knowing my full name, why should I not do it for you? Sometimes I want to tell you about Mochi, because you’ve seen her several times and I know you must have some form of attachment to her, if not to me. The other day we mentioned the age discrepancy between my mum and stepdad (she is 7 years older and is effectively a cougar) and my younger half-sisters, said “like you and Adam” and I looked at them, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, asking how they knew. Them: “we saw him on your Instagram, you said he was 26 and that’s younger than you” so I learn that my little tiny sisters, who were babies when I was 13, perhaps know more about me than I give them credit for. Sometimes I want to read your writing, and then I tell myself not to, and then I wonder why. I like your writing, your dark, very black humour, things that make me wonder how dark your thoughts must be, which then makes me wonder why you wouldn’t watch something like Black Mirror. I think about the night I get drunk in front of my colleagues, and tell you I like you so much I cannot quite place any other way to express besides that I love you, and you say it back, with no qualms. I rue the days we cried for and about each other, geez, that was rough. It makes me smile now, somehow, thinking, wow somebody felt as much as I did, how is that even possible. I open my iMovie to edit a video then realise the one you had sent me when you were opening my box is still there, and it makes me feel a lot of things I cannot separate from each other. When the opening riffs or drum notes of any song in the playlist you’d made for me plays on my Spotify, I either skip the song or listen to it endlessly on repeat, wondering whether even the artist has ever felt the way I feel for you. I miss you and your jokes that range from A+++++++++++ to complete-rubbish-Adam-why-do-you-even-try. I miss us and the incessant “the old Taylor/Adam/Sarah can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, ‘cos she’s dead!” Every time my colleagues play Carly Rae Jepsen or Ariana Grande, I wonder what you feel about the particular song. I don’t know why I’m writing this, I truly never do, but if it doesn’t kill me, why the fuck not, right? I hope you’re okay. That’s all.

THINGS I AM GLAD FOR

i. the weather is cold enough so that the fan doesn’t have to be switched on for me to sleep soundly through the night
ii. the water heater works well such that I can have a steaming hot shower even in Singapore’s version of sweater weather
iii. Mochi surviving a fall and still being herself, meowing incessantly and greedily to be fed more shrimp and shredded beef from my bowl of noodles
iv. one of my best friends being a doctor and helping me out of one of my worst periods of depression that one night last year
v. one of my friends who isn’t even a doctor, who wouldn’t go drinking with me, because I was on anti-anxiety medication, and alcohol is a depressant, and they don’t mix well together
vi. some of my best friends who will not give up on me and looking after me, no matter what kind of trouble I get myself into
vii. I have learned to avoid trouble of my own accord
viii. I am on talking terms with all my family members
ix. feeling hungry more often now that it’s always cold, so I get to eat more, but having a high enough metabolism so that I don’t feel the need to work it off, not that I would mind a little more weight
x. Netflix, especially the shows that are downloadable to my phone so I can watch on-the-go
xi. New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. I have eight songs from reputation downloaded to my Spotify. I know she has trash politics, and I shouldn’t be listening to her, but maybe I am a trash person or maybe I just like her songs even if they’re trashy, and I have made my peace with it
xii. I’m blogging and have been consistently blogging on my phone, what a time to be alive
xiii. having a ten-dollar bill (I would call it a Hamilton but it’s a Singaporean note) that has a string of my favourite numbers consecutively as its serial number, that I got a few days ago, which is irrefutable proof 😛 that this year will be a good year, for me
xiv. the backpack that I got for school, matches my sneakers perfectly, hehehe, and that my laptop fits into the bag (you can’t ever be sure when you order shit online, until it arrives)
xv. the stash of bath items that I got from work to have bubble baths anytime I get the chance to use a bathtub this year
xvi. ice-cream: I mean, srsly, I think I would not trust anyone who doesn’t like ice-cream
xvii. my hair is growing really well and healthily and I love it, my hair always does seem to be a representation of my person

BRKLYN HGHTS

wonderbread

i. Today there were hordes of whypipo in the store for some reason, four of the girls had locs and loads of them were wearing loose elephant-print pants. Yknow, like the kind you get in Thailand. White people who aren’t self-aware are the actual worst. 

ii. #Oprah2020

iii. I started watching The End of the F***ing World (it’s stylised that way, I don’t censor my fucks in front of anyone because the way I see it — it’s better for kids to hear you say fuck than for you to be polite while communicating racist and bigoted values, so fuck off) and I quite like it. Two more episodes to go, it’s a little reminiscent of Warm Bodies so far.

FRIDAY

I like my manager a lot. Today, I was singing along to the PA system and she asked “Sarah can you sing?” I said I couldn’t and then she said “I can, ‘cos I’m Filipino so it’s a given. Filipinos can sing.” I knew she was kidding ‘cos she’d told me previously that she was the only Filipino who doesn’t have the ability to sing and also ‘cos I’ve actually heard her singing. It is like mine. Then she asked me to reaffirm again tonight, “Sarah, can I sing?” So I stared at her and said “yes” to which she said “good, ‘cos you’re still under probation.” HAHAHAHAHA I love her so much.

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

So today, I went to the market with my grandma and she started sniffling 'cos of Mochi's health expenses, etc. My grandma is a qtpie but she is so emotional and that's why I turned out this way, probably.

When we got home, Mel and I got into a bit of a hooha because she is a dingus but I hope we never forget what happened today because she is a dingus. When will they ever learn???

Mochi refuses to wear her cone and keeps making the most pitiful mews when you put it on, or she just knocks herself into every single surface trying to get it off, so it's either she dies from injuring herself further or from infecting her wounds by licking them/biting off her bandage. No big deal, Moch Moch. No big deal. o<-<

It's been really rainy so I took it as a sign to wear my hoodie dress and Marceline boots. They have furry tongues, because Marceline is a vampire queen and vampires turn into bats and bats are furry and you get it.

I had a brilliant dinner with Reen, Tim and Yuriko. I laughed so hard at the things they said, especially "no-leg-day-kinda-guy" oh geez. Also Yuriko and Tim were telling us all the Japanese things Japanese people say and do, and we contemplated the things that would be said to me if I went to teach English in Japan. I like Yuriko a lot, I don't remember really talking much to her before they got married, but now I realise she's really funny too. I love seeing them as a couple, geez what a weird feeling.

For dessert, we had mochi donut with soft-serve ice-cream, and mochi donut means donut made of glutinous flour, and it was amazing, and I definitely want to have it again, because the soft-serve is cookie butter flavour, which is like Speculoos, or like those Lotus biscuits served with coffee, like caramelly, and like oh my god this was good.

Reen passed me clothes, as she is wont to do. She also passed me lingerie in a bright pink colour that I LOVE, a colour that I somehow don't have yet????? The last time she got me lingerie, it was yellow. Reen is the best.

I love clothes but there are some clothes I love more than others. For example, I love boots, and dresses with pockets, but hooded dresses (the ultimate rarity) are the best, because then you don't ever have to bring around an umbrella or cap???? Which is like??? A lifesaver????

And then above all is lingerie. I love lingerie, it's hilarious. My best friends got me lingerie for my 25th birthday and I think it's because they know I'm most comfortable with my own body, so they'd rather get it for me and know that I'll wear it instead of buying it for themselves and never wear them.

I was taking the train home with Yuriko and Tim, and I saw Pamela's boyfriend Peh, and said hi to him. He asked about Mochi, I guess because Pamela had told him. I also love seeing Peh and Pamela together YAS real-life couple friend ships are the best ships to ship.

Tim, Yuriko and I alighted the train together, then Tim said "is that Pamela from SilkAir's boyfriend?" and I said "wait how do you know Pamela from SilkAir??" and then he asked me to guess, and eventually I recalled that he, Reen and Pamela had met at my 25th birthday picnic, and that was nice, because I guess seeing Peh is sort of secondhand seeing another best friend of mine in a day.

This year I turn 28 and it is going to be a good year. I can feel it in my bones. Actually, what I feel in my bones is ache because my joints get weird when it rains. However, I do feel it in my heart. I'm gonna have a 28th birthday dinner, and it might be the last time I do a gathering with my favourite people in Singapore in a long time. 

If all I receive for my 28th are Victoria's Secret lingerie sets, I think it would be a success. My size is UK 8, #justsaying HAHAHAHAH okbye I love y'all I'm super happy.

WIRE MESH

I just got a call from the vet saying that Mochi is looking bright as a button and trying to use her broken leg already. She fell from six storeys and survived with one broken leg. Cats are amazing creatures.

I’m still lowkey pissed that she stupidly lost her balance and fell from the window ledge, if she did. That’s ruling out if she actually jumped at a bird or whatever stimulus.

We’re gonna mesh our windows, and Mochi’s leg will be in a cast for four to six weeks. Poor girl. We all feel bad for rebuking her whenever she was too playful before this. Well anyway to keep her from being bored we might have little cat playdates for her soon. I hope it goes well.

She hasn’t really had much interaction with other cats. But when our part-time cat, the stray from the void deck, comes up for food, Mochi seems more curious than anything. The stray doesn’t like Mochi though, perhaps because we give her shelter and not him. I’m sorry bro, y’all had different lots in life and the social mobility in cats has a different hierarchy than for humans.

LETTERS TO ANONYMITY

always somebody you're willing to fight
to be right

your lies are bullets
your mouth's a gun
no war in anger was ever won

put out the fire before igniting
next time you're fighting
kill em with kindness

i. I think you misread some of the things I've written recently. I haven't directed anything towards you, whether conscious or unconsciously, since we stopped properly talking to each other. You used to be one of my best friends, and I one of yours, but in the past year, I realised that at some core parts of ourselves, we would not accept each other for some of our beliefs, the more I changed. You seemed to not accept me for pushing away and rejecting some of the things that are integral to your existence, especially given the fact that I was also born into the same circumstance, and I think trying to keep up our friendship was exhausting to the both of us. I am deeply grateful for the many years we had some of the best times together, and the many times we had each other's backs, but I think we both agree this friendship is better as a fond memory, and I wish you all the best in your future.

ii. I am sorry for what happened to you and what she did. From the time we spent together, I can tell you are a kind man, and you honestly don't deserve to be lied to, not that anyone does. Thank you for the times we watched and listened to and consumed media together, for the brilliant first date, for cooking our Christmas Eve meal together, for some semblance of something real I hadn't had for such a long while. We met each other at perhaps an inopportune timing, and we are both still raw and hurt from the massive piles of manipulation that have been heaped upon us. I hope you heal as smoothly and completely before you expect to, and because of you, I know in my heart that I can be anything, because I am everything that there has been in the universe.

iii. Half a year ago, when, as was your pattern of coming back every two months, you approached me, I was oblivious as usual, rambling about you on Instagram or whatnot. Today is where it ends. I kept saying you were an open and honest person, but then again, you came back to me when you didn't have to and shouldn't have. You knew I would always be happy when you gave me the light of day, and you used it at your will. When you were caught in between, you offered no explanation to me and simply disappeared. You never properly apologised for your part in what you did, for not being safe although as a structures engineer, you should probably know the importance of protection and safeguards. I made excuses for you for months, and I waited and waited for you to say sorry properly, probably because of the severity of what you'd done with me, and your goddamn DNA was in me for a time. I saw and spoke about only all the good things that you'd done for me, because that is the person I am, but you were a solid class-A insensitive fuccboi. I am done with you, and we can both be relieved for this. You gave me a month of great times, but fifteen months of commiserating is about all I can afford you. I no longer want you to reappear ever again. I deserve better.

MOCHI

We have a cat whom we call Mochi. We live in a sixth-storey apartment. Today, Mochi fell (or jumped?) from the window. She was in shock when we found her but there weren’t any visible signs of bleeding. We tried to feed her water but then it came out bloody, so we think there is internal bleeding. We got to the vet, and they say there are signs of diarrhoea and they’re waiting for the painkillers they gave her to set in before they try an X-Ray. Wow, 2018, that was fast. My sisters and I were crying when we found her. I don’t know why I’m typing like this. It was so painful seeing her in shock like that, silly cat.

COMPLICATED UPFRONT

One of my good guy friends, G (his name is Guillaume but I’m the only person who calls him G because it is easier than mispronouncing his name), whom I have never met because he lives in Paris, described me once as “complicated upfront” and I never really appreciated it fully until now.

I am prone to think that I am one of the most complicated people with a complicated life, because I am open and honest about it, but more and more, I think everyone has their share of complications. I used to feel, I dunno, inferior? Incompetent? Unhappy with myself?

Occasionally, though, I think at least I own up to my insecurities, at least I am honest about every thought and feeling and intention I have. At least I don’t say one thing, but mean another, from my apparent actions.

How sad. How so very sad.

This train smells like a musty carpet.

On a non-related note, the wedding dress I have liked and wanted for about 13 months (I first saw it on a TV show episode in Nov 2016 when one of the characters — who is now gay — was getting married to her boyfriend) is being resold and it’s very affordable for a gorgeous wedding gown. I even estimated the shipping costs and it doesn’t seem too bad.

I know for sure I want to wear that if I get married, but that’s an extremely long shot, especially given the fact that I’m single. But oh my God when I have my eyes set on an outfit, I must usually have it. Why do I like clothes so much? I am a horrible person. No I am not. I am a normal person. I love dresses, so the fuck what?

I didn’t watch the previous Star Wars film before The Last Jedi, so this was the first I was seeing Kylo Ren, and geez I dunno why I think he’s so appealing. Is it the conflicted, tormented soul, choosing between the dark side and the light? Is it the scar that runs across his face?

100 TRILLION SYNAPSES

Han came over to help me with an interview I’m going for next week. Fingers crossed I get it! We read a joke piece that involved robi737. She also saw my cat Mochi for the first time, and kept sneezing, because Han has asthma. I had a great day. It was a great day.

Did you know that the link between brain neurons is called a synapse, and to prevent the deterioration of Alzheimer’s or memory-related diseases, you can increase the number of synapses there are between your neurons?

For example, if your association with the word “hoe” is an object that is used for gardening, you can also create other bridges across to that word like making a pun on the word “ho ho ho” from Santa Claus, or the derogatory term “ho” which is slang for “whore”. The more synapses and connections you make to things and facts and terms, the more bridges you have to help you get to a word and the harder it will be for such a word to drop off from your memory or your radar of words.

Your brain has a capacity for up to a hundred trillion synapses. Use them and make them. Every fact you know can branch out to a hundred other facts.

HUH OKAY

i. Do you find yourself saying humanly unacceptable things to your cat bc lbr if you don’t then what even is the point of having a cat tbh

ii. I watched the first episode of the Neil deGrasse Tyson reboot of Cosmos on Netflix, then read a National Geographic issue on astronauts, and thought of Joey bc lbr when do I not think of Joey? Then I got reminded of something Zack said last week. 

He apparently said something really smart but I completely forgot what it was because he followed it up immediately with something really hilarious, he said “take that, brainy SpaceX guy, I’m smart too” which amuses me to No End!!! So cute and candid!

Benchmark for guys to beat is now “brainy SpaceX guy” jesus cool beans but I told Zack I knew he, Zack, was smart too, of course because that happens to be my only prerequisite for dating and attraction, a man just has to be some kind of smart/brainy/intelligent and yet none of my dating adventures have turned out all that well?

Is it that the smarter a man is, the more douchey he could be? Is this a hypothesis to be tested? Perhaps so, my dear Watson, perhaps so, indeed.

iii. Today I came to my own consensus that any man would be lucky to have me. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. This is why I have a cat I can talk to, because she doesn’t voice her opinion even if she disagrees.

iv. If I end up alone in life, it makes me feel better that in the grand scale of the Cosmic Calendar, we are only taking place in the last what, twenty seconds in the 13-billion-year-history of our observable universe? My life does not matter. Somehow, this makes me feel infinitely better. At least I have the cognisance of what has happened in the brief history of time. I appreciate being me much more than I would have liked being a dinosaur.

v. EDIT: perhaps some of me IS actually made of dinosaur dust???? COOL BEANS im so????? Confused???? Can this be true???? Here is today’s inane Google search of the day, holy cheese crackers, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m smart or stupid.

“Can I be made of dinosaur” — Sarah Mei Lyana, (2017)

No but like dyou know what I mean, if we’re made from stardust, what if there was another galaxy or another solar system or whatever world that had dinosaurs and then they became part of the stars that formed the people you and I know now, if there are multiple worlds I’m gonna say this is a possibility, however infinitesimal.

SATURN RETURNS

Today I went to the market with my grandma. We didn't use any plastic bags, just used the trolley all the way home. This might not seem like a big deal to some of you, but in Singapore, everybody still uses plastic bags and older folks definitely ask for double-bagging for their groceries. Geez.

It worried me a little, shopping with my Nyai. She asked me to get potatoes, and meat, and quite a few things, more than once, after we'd gotten them. :( When Shahida was here last weekend and ate my grandma's cooking, she said, not for the first time, that my grandma is a living treasure. I think it might be high time to start learning to cook/get some of her recipes down before her memory really fails.

She's the one who raised me and up till now, I think she still has qualms about me living overseas on my own. Traditions are hard to break out of.

Today I was too lazy to walk the twenty minutes to the pool so I decided to stay home and do the only thing I can do and enjoy doing -- planking.

One time, I tried to do yoga by myself, did it for ten minutes and somehow fell asleep for an hour. Anyway, I realised that I haven't cycled for a really long while - it's a good thing you can't forget how to swim or cycle.

Time to go for a cross-country cycle? You bet.

LET IT SNOW

Zack noticed that my earstuds are origami cranes, so he showed me a plastic container of origami cranes he had been folding, because he’d read somewhere that folding a thousand of those grants a wish. It’s slightly different to the meaning of my studs, which I’d got and have been wearing since three months ago, because I think they signify healing and acceptance. He’s currently at sixty-odd cranes. I asked him what he’d loved most about his ex-fiancée, and I could still feel his love for her, despite what she’d done to him. Then again, if you asked me about people who’ve crossed me, romantically, I could probably still think of them all fondly. Perhaps we are all individually capable of forgiving the people whom we really love. We listened to an NPR podcast about manipulation, it was about false memories and one of the interviewed neuroscientists did research on an Eternal Sunshine-esque memory modification technique, after a recent bad breakup he’d been through. I’d just told Zack that one of my favourite films is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, countering his favour for superhero movies (what the fuck do people see in superhero shows? I could churn out ten with absolutely no creativity whatsoever). We watched a bit of John Oliver. When I get home, I have some editing to do, for something Han had helped me with on Sunday. I read a piece of news about an Amtrak train accident in Washington, and linked it to her, because she and I had taken an Amtrak from Los Angeles to San Francisco, and it was one of our quaintest, loveliest experiences on our trip — like meeting families travelling together for the holidays and recommending us the best local ice-cream places at each stop. I am so glad to be talking to her again.

Edit: I am home and my pack of horchata arrived.

I already had a glass and you cannot imagine how wide my grin is. It is exactly as I remember! This drink I last had a year and four months ago, on Venice Beach, or in East LA, which is very densely Latino-populated, or wherever the heck else I'd had it, stealing sips from my hosts.

I AM SO HAPPY YOU DONT EVEN KNOW now every time I miss LA/the US I can drink horchata, and oh my God why is the US so far away from us

FROM ROOFTOP TO RATCHET

As I was leaving work tonight, looking at how I was dressed, many of my colleagues cheekily reminded me that we all have an 8am meeting tomorrow. By tomorrow, I mean in 7 hours, and that means I should be sleeping.

I was wearing a little black dress, I'd painted my nails my favourite colour, I was wearing heels. I was going on a proper date. We went to Southbridge, an oyster bar on a rooftop, overlooking the river and the gorgeously superficial, superficially gorgeous skyscrapers that grace our skyline.

I wanted to take photos, but I was an adult lady, fully accustomed to proper fancy dates, so I didn't. Christ Almighty what has become of me. We shared an array of oysters, hot oysters and cold oysters with different squeezes and sauces, which were really good, aphrodisiac-status-notwithstanding.

I also had duck pastrami sliders, he had tuna tartare.

He's from Sheffield, but he doesn't have a British accent. Which sucks. Why would you date a British person with no Brit accent, when the accent is the sexiest part??? He teased me about my love for America and American boys. Like my best friend G in Paris, he says I have a boy at every port.

That is a completely nonsensical claim. First of all..... I haven't been to many places/ports. Second of all, I don't have any man, anywhere!

I had an enjoyable night, but the only thing that doesn't sit right with me is that he, and I quote, doesn't like the term feminism, and he prefers equalism. I kid you not, he said the term equalism, and I can barely type it with a straight face. Because in a world where girls aren't allowed to go to school, in a world where women aren't allowed to drive, in a world where a woman's right to birth control is in the hands of rooms of men, the issue someone should have is that the term for progress should signify equality to both genders, instead of highlighting the gender that is disenfranchised most often and widely across the world.

I feel like he is the type of person who would believe in men's rights, and that is where I most definitely have to draw the line.

Regardless, I am keeping an open mind, yadda yadda yadda. As you can see, unlike with the people I have loved the past few times, I haven't fallen flat for this man. Usually when I like someone, I go from 0 to 100 on the double, but this time, I'm just enjoying the company. Perhaps this is a good thing.

In any case, I went from rooftop to ratchet real quick. When I got off the train, my feet were aching from my heels, and I had to get McWings for my grandma (she raised me so whatever she wants, goes), so I took off my shoes and walked home barefoot.

Jesus McNuggets, I hadn't been so ratchet since the company's staff party two months ago. On that night, I was drunk and wearing a long skirt with thigh-high slits on either side. After I'd taken the train on two different lines and when I was transferring to my last train, I realised that the back portion of my skirt had ridden up and was tucked into my underwear ever since my visit to the toilet near the bar where the party was held.

I am ratchet queen. But I am happy. Oysters were good. And I guess he was nice, even if he believes in equalism. I cannot. HAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm out. Have a lovely weekend. x

TELL ME MORE, TELL ME MOREDID SHE PUT UP A FIGHT?

Last night I got home early from work and watched Grease on Netflix. What a silly, gender-divisive show. A few of the songs are still quite catchy, though.

Before I came home, I got myself a new piercing on my helix. When I was going to bed, I knew that I had the piercing so I slept on my left side, but my perverse human brain kept telling me that I was uncomfortable and that I wanted to try sleeping on my right, despite knowing it would be painful. Why do people do that? For things so smart, our brains can be really stupid.

Having a helix piercing reminded me of my adventure with Indy, my industrial piercing. Once upon a time, years ago, when I was still young, wild and free, I got an industrial piercing on my left ear, which is two opposite sections of ear pierced, connected by something called an industrial bar.

I felt cool for all of those few days, until my cartilage got infected and my left ear literally collapsed. I was hospitalised and literally everyone I knew in life visited me. For an ear piercing that nobody else gets hospitalised for. I learned my lesson that of all the things I was in life, I was just not meant to be cool. So I stuck with just my two earlobe piercings for the longest time, until my helix yesterday.

This Sunday, I am meeting Han, my supposed best friend forever, whom I haven't seen for months. I suggested doing the bungy (Singapore's first step-off-a-platform proper bungy) or the giant swing, but Han says she's slowly losing her taste for scary things, so we were gonna do the vertical skywalk, in which you descend the tower by walking facing down, but then we decided not to do that.

If my best friend starts getting more fearful of exhilarating rides or activities, who will I do those things with? Who am I gonna take the world's craziest rollercoasters with?

Truth be told, I also think I should confront my fears and do the swimming with sharks thing as soon as I can, because I might not have the threshold for it beyond my 20s. I've done a real bungy in KL, skydived in New Zealand, the only thing left is the shark cage.

I actually have a real phobia of sharks, my brain always forgets what the phobia is even called. If a shark appears on my feed while I'm holding my phone, I drop or throw my phone, and if a shark appears on TV, I instinctively close my eyes. I don't understand why it gives me such goosebumps, but I guess that's what is meant by phobia.

Where am I going to go for the shark cage? Definitely have to do it in 2018 before I get older and chicken out of such things. I just want to do it and possibly try not to pass out.

STRING OF LIGHTS

I had dinner with one of my best friends, Pamela, tonight. We talked about a lot of things, and perhaps the things we talked about will be pertinent five months later, or perhaps not. What matters though, is that I am grateful for Pamela and I love her a lot. 

Last night, I got home from work to three packs of classy-looking tea in tins (chamomile, earl grey, rosehip and hibiscus) on my bed. My mum had gotten them for me ‘cos she knows I love tea and she wrote a note asking me to cheer up. The best part is they’re all ethically-sourced/fair traded tea! :)

One of my ex-colleagues at I am... is getting married in a couple of weeks at the start of January. I mention it now because that was where Pamela and I dined tonight, my previous workplace, and my colleague passed me the invitation. Top off my head is what I’m going to wear to the wedding. 

It doesn’t hurt to have thoughts like what to wear, not least when the whole of Los Angeles seems to be on fire (at least it seems to be from all the news reports) and an explosion went off in NY, not half a day ago. Stay safe yall, I don’t believe in prayers but yall are in my thoughts x

DON’T READ THE LAST PAGE

hold on to the memories

they will hold on to you

and I will hold on to you

please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognise anywhere

More and more, I am filled with a really quiet, little sort of peace that makes me smile to myself, a small secret smile, just for myself. I listen to lyrics and see photos of the beach and read Malay words and think of birthday celebrations and watch animated films and drink tea and get reminded of the dozens of men whom I have loved, who have made me happy. 

I have lived a rich life. What a life. It is going to be even fuller.

COME ON, SKINNY LOVE

25 days to the end of the year. Sometimes, when I meet up with people I haven't seen for ages, they tell me I've lost weight or become skinnier, and out of those times, some people ask how I do it. Well, I do admit that my genes probably help because my mum is tall and lanky and my biological parents are athletes so I don't have to work out much to look fit. The real reason why I'm usually skinny, though, is because every time I get jilted in love or go through a rough patch, I lose my appetite and then I lose even more weight. I try, I try to eat my regular amounts through my ups and downs, but it's hard when I'm depressed and my stomach doesn't feel hungry. So yeah, if you're envious, perhaps you might wanna try getting knocked up, miscarrying against your wishes, falling out with your family and then losing the ability to trust or to maintain a meaningful relationship with anyone. That could work.

MISMATCHED EXPECTATIONS

I went for dinner with Bhavs and Ekta tonight. We had vegetarian Indian food at Nalan, Capitol Piazza. It was really good. While having cheesecake for dessert at Starbucks, we got to discussing our dating experiences, especially through online dating apps. After some banter, I asked for their respective deal breakers, and Bhavs said she just wants a very nice guy.

I then had to think quite a bit, because I would say I've had a pretty extensive and comprehensive dating experience and even so, I haven't met too many very nice men. I then came up with an idea of making an app specifically for Very Nice Guys.

Bhavna's initial reaction was: "but then you'll find all the men there!"

I would think the opposite though. I think, in our society, and in many societies, men haven't been taught to be nice, or to prioritise being nice. A man is expected and taught that it is important to be successful, to be wealthy, to be handsome, or really intelligent, interesting even. But it is not a man's job to be nice, that is traditionally for the women.

In fact, I would make it hard for men to qualify for the app. First of all, like the way Tinder started out, a man who wants to be on our app would need a verifiable Facebook account, and secondly, he would need five verifiable female Facebook accounts to vouch for him as a very nice guy, to be allowed an account on our platform.

This means that women apart from his mother must agree that this man is indeed a nice guy. Five is a safe number, just because some women, like men, want to see other people burn, but getting five people who want to watch the world burn with you, is quite a stretch, and the way Trump sometimes gets blocked from carrying out his ridiculous executive orders, these five women can now be judges of whether a man is on the app for good and justifiable reason.

I think it's a brilliant idea to get women involved, because women know what hurts other women, and for example, I've never known a lot of females who would help a guy lie to cheat on his current partner. That way, this weeds out all the men who might be looking to stray from their partners. I think women should all be helping other women.

I also think that if a man has been on our platform, and the same Facebook account is back on our app, we would look for his most recent matches and allow these female partners to verify whether he was a nice guy and things didn't work out amicably, or whether she sensed red flags and he was abusing the rules. I say this because I've been on and off Tinder multiple times, probably eight times at least, in the past four years or so, and I'm sure there have been douchebags who have been on the app, on and off, again and again, for at least the same amount of time as I have.

I'm not saying that all men have bad intentions, but to have an app like Tinder where some men are looking for things that girls are not looking for, is just not productive. Men who want to have fun, who are not ready to settle down and find something serious, can stay on Tinder, and match with women who are looking for the same thing.

I'm definitely saying, though, that men abuse girls' trust on Tinder far more often than you think it happens, even when the girl in question (ie. myself as case example) states what she is looking for. You wouldn't think men who are in relationships would be on Tinder, and yet I got inadvertently and unknowingly involved with an engaged man. And somehow, that's not even the worst of it.

If a man is willing to go through the various forms of verification before being allowed to be on our Very Nice Guys app, then you'd know that he's really serious about dating, too. It's a win-win for all parties.

The following questions are things I thought would be useful to ask men who might wonder whether they would qualify for the app. Most are from my own experiences, a few are from my female friends' experiences, and although not the same man might have committed all these little crimes, if you are guilty of at least one of these, as a man, I hope you take some time out to yourself and reflect on what you've done, whether it was worth it, whether you can really call yourself a good person.

Now, I'm not gonna be sanctimonious, I know I've made my own mistakes while dating, but let me assure you, I have never been one to abuse someone's trust while dating. I've always been serious to start dating in a committed relationship, and honestly, I think if that's what he wants, that's half the battle won for a man who wants to call himself a very nice man, who wants to get in touch with girls looking for very nice men.

Questions:

Do you find yourself explaining things to women in a way that they might perceive as talking down to them?
Are you married or in a relationship?
Do women apart from your mother generally tell you you are nice?
Have you ever called a female person a slut/whore for any reason?
Do you feel comfortable when talking to male friends and they call women terms like whore or slut?
Are you ready to commit to a serious relationship?
Do you think it is more important to be nice and good and kind than it is to be any other trait ie. successful/smart/wealthy/handsome?
Have you ever insisted on sexual activity even when rejected by a female partner?
Have you ignored texts from girls unless they are sexual in nature, or responded only in sexual forms?
Have you ever stopped texting or responding to a female partner after having had sex with her?
Are you ready to take on emotional and mental issues your partner may have, with the understanding that it would be mutual for her to accept you and your issues?
Have you ever neglected your partner's emotions or been emotionally isolated and used your previous experiences or issues as justification?
Are you currently recovering from/coping with getting over a recent long-term relationship?
Have you ever done physical things with a girl and, knowing that she already has feelings for you, continued to engage in physical/sexual activities, although you only have platonic feelings for her?
Have you ever found yourself intentionally mirroring someone's experiences to get them to trust you and let their guard down with you?
Have you ever led a girl to think that you would commit to her although you would only want sex from her?
If you have answered yes or no to any of the questions above but regretted it since, would you say you have changed and would not do it again?

I now need an app developer and a psychologist.

HARDWIRED

This perhaps now ties for my favourite TED talk. I always knew my joke about getting cancer sometime in my life had some truth to it. I also always knew there had to be some sort of explanation for my impulsive nature. And the tendency to be depressed. etc etc etc.

However, now that I've watched this talk and learned the causality, it also of course, on the flipside, equips and enables me to say, hey, okay, so those things happened and perhaps it increases some health risks, but those things can be mitigated, and I can always choose not to engage in high-risk behaviour.

Which perhaps is more significant and important to me than you could understand.

HORCHATA

It has been a year since I've been in the US, and it's such a strange thing that my favourite drink is horchata, which I have not drunk since I was in the US. But I remember how it tastes. It's so weird. Whenever people here ask how it tastes, I can't quite describe it to them, and know that they know what I mean, besides using the descriptions from its Wikipedia page, which does not do justice to the taste/flavour at all. I've been to a few Mexican restaurants in Singapore (not too many here, we need a bigger Mexican cuisine industry --- there are too many Korean places recently) and none of them serves horchata. Tbh I think I should just order the sacheted instant ones off Target. I'm going to do that now.

DARK MATTER

I have been taking some time out for myself, and reading, and listening to NPR podcasts. I love NPR, they have episodes on space, and oceanography, and human resilience, and crisis and response. I feel like NPR has been more of my life than my life has been a life. I think one of the recent podcasts I was listening to was titled Shifting Time and a physicist was talking about how the universe is expanding, and at a constantly accelerating rate, which is mind-boggling. The more I listen to NPR, the more I feel like, we are too small to matter.

719.1 km²

It's been a pretty long and tiring year. I have learned some, and grown some, I think. I haven't stepped out of Singapore in 2017, and if you didn't know, the length of Singapore is 50km from left to right, meaning I have pretty much stayed within the confines of at most 50km for the past 330 or so days. If you think about it, which I have, this sounds ludicrous, considering I used to always be the kind of person who would up and leave whenever I felt constrained, and needed to get away. This year, though, I was disciplined and I saved, for the future I have planned towards. I haven't left Singapore. I haven't used my passport in the past year. This is amazing. If it doesn't amaze you, it amazes me.

DEFINE: DANCING

I recently decided to remove most things I had online. By remove, I actually deleted them, meaning I don't even have them to look back on myself, but it's alright, they're kinda intact in my memory. Kinda. I have a pretty great memory, so, that helps a little. I realised that in the past year, everything that had happened last year, and the years prior to it, was the first and sometimes the only narrative people would think about or would use to form an impression of me. I don't mind talking about it or telling people about it, but I think it's time to set out on a new narrative. I am not someone things always happen to, by virtue of my family or my dating experiences or whatever. I have agency over my own life. I am not defined by my circumstance.

WHEREVER YOU GOGO WITH ALL YOUR HEART

I feel like this post should be in the form of a video log, because I'm gonna ramble on about several different things, and I kinda wanna have more of... a conversation where you can jump from one train of thought to another, then go back to the previous thing, without having a linearity you usually have to have when you're writing.

Anyway, anyhow. If you're here, please read this entire post before forming any conclusion about anything - if you are the sort to have conclusions. I'm not sure if there are any conclusions to be formed, because I have none myself, but I'm just trying to avoid any judgment from anyone, about anyone (myself included), as far as possible.

On being human:

I turned 27 three days ago, on May 11. At this moment in time, as I'm writing this, I feel like I'm in an alright headspace, and I'm glad to be alive right now, glad to have been alive for the past 27 years.

Late last year and earlier this year, for a rather long while (when I was going through it, it felt like a long while but in the grand scheme of things, life always does manage to go on and nothing really seems to be a long while in your memory, once you've gone past the stage of living through it), I didn't feel very well in terms of my mental health.

I had thoughts that I didn't enjoy having and I'm not proud to have had, and as much as I tried to steer away from them, as much as I tried to surround myself with #positivevibes (how bullshit that sounds now), there was a major hormonal imbalance in my body and until I acknowledged it, I wasn't able to cope with it.

I blamed myself, because of course I had to hold myself accountable for it. I told myself if I hadn't been so carefree and careless, none of it would or could have happened. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel any resentment towards Joey. He was one-half of the equation, of course I 'blamed' him as much as I 'blamed' myself.

To be honest, I think each of us might still think it was more of the other's fault for not taking our own steps for it not to happen. Perhaps that is what usually happened in our previous individual experiences and we took for granted that it is what would happen. He could have done his part in taking precautions, I could have done mine, yet neither of us did. There was no excuse, we were both young and careless. (I wanted to add "wild" but the truth is, neither of us is too wild, we are relatively tame, safe people, except for an aberration of that one summer with all the consequences..... ;P)

After the incident, I didn't realise how badly I would be affected. When I heard a random stranger in public talk about blood, I couldn't breathe and my mind blacked out, and it was only after some time to myself that I realised I'd been triggered to thinking of when I'd bled out. (Yeah, I know right, triggered, what a ~millennial~ sort of word to use.)

I spent a long time going round and round feeling bad about myself, for having made such a big mistake, for not even being financially capable of handling it by myself, I felt ashamed because it's not culturally appropriate or even acceptable, the way I was raised. Basically, everything that I'd done in my life felt like a bad decision and wrong and I'd fucked it all up. It was the hormones making me feel this way, but usually when you're in such a position, you're too far gone to be rational about hormones.

A line of questions that I kept harping on was, "why did this happen to me? why me? am I a bad person?" It was pointless and destructive and I never got anywhere but finally, when I got right down to it, I accepted that it happened just because I was and am fundamentally human.

It's easy to forget that people are flawed, and for some of us - terribly flawed: because most of us like to think only about shiny, happy moments, and try to make life about only the shiny, happy moments. But it isn't. Being human and living a human life means exactly that there will be times when everything feels like it's going to complete and utter shite.

You might have to go through a divorce, break up an engagement, lose your loved one, get diagnosed with serious medical conditions, experience failures in studies and in businesses, cheat or get cheated on, be bullied for your sexual orientation, have kids before getting married and be shamed for it, be assaulted or raped, be disowned by your family, have a miscarriage, and the list, sadly, is non-exhaustive. You will inevitably hurt yourself or someone else, or someone will hurt you.

The only way to avoid any of it is to stay indoors like Spongebob did in an episode, and not have any interaction with the outside world (I recognise that Spongebob is not a human being, but he is a personified sponge).

And so.... I just want to say that if you are going through something that you think is incredibly negative, or you feel like you've fucked up and nothing will ever go right again for you, welcome to the ranks of humanhood.

In the entire history of mankind, millions upon millions and perhaps billions of our fellow human beings have gone through some version of it before. The ones who are alive, who are around you, have either already gone through their own struggles, are going through it and may not be showing it, or may not have met with their personal ordeals at this point, but may do so in future.

And it's human to do so. It's human to have the very worst things happen to you. You could be feeling pain like you feel should not be humanly possible, you could want to lie flat on the toilet floor and never move or do anything again (Izzie Stevens ref, anyone?) for the rest of your life, like your heart is curling up so much you'd rather die, or that you're already dead inside. You might want the hurt to show on the outside, like a battle wound or scar, so that you can explain why you don't feel like going to work or go on with the rest of your life, because hey, look? I feel like I've been stabbed/shot/whatever, even though I'm physically intact. And you won't even have that as an easy out, because what happens in your heart, people say is just all in your head, even though you are consumed by your pain and sorrow and grief, you think you can't possibly feel anything good again. It happens because as a human being, you are capable of feeling hurt, even if nothing physical has apparently happened to you. And this happens to all of us.

I'm reading a book called note to self by Connor Franta at the moment. I haven't gotten through a substantial portion to decide whether it's good or bad or if I like it yet, but even in the first few chapters, there is this paragraph that resonated with me---

My struggle, my pain, my grief, my despair, my tears—they're not uncommon. They're shared. And once something is shared, it loses its isolating potential. That's something I've come to realize—once I understood that I'm experiencing something that millions of others have endured before, and are enduring at the same time, it somehow makes it feel less frightening, less heavy, less individual.

I guess I can say at this point, now that it's sort of behind me, that I, for one, am glad I felt all the negativity that I've felt, all through my life. It means I risked something. I risked many things. I invested myself in situations, in people. I have stories to tell. I'm in non-mint condition, I'm all banged and scratched up, in my head, my womb, my heart, my skin, all of it. I explored the spectrum of human emotion and have wasted none of it. My hope for you is, if and when you are experiencing the bad, dark, tumultuous, uncertain, stormy parts of life, that you remember that we as a species are equipped with the heart to feel it, and the brains to think through it, and that making mistakes or having mistakes or anything sad/bad/mad happen to you, is part of being human. We'll feel it and we'll go through it together. Because we're the only ones evolved enough to be able to. And because the best stories are the ones lived out.

(Plus: what happened to me/us was basic science, and for dating a rocket scientist, we really were selfishly careless, to assume that 1+1 would always remain as two. Hello??? It's not even rocket science to know that's not true when people are involved. I learned my lesson the tough way. Humanhood, right?)

On depression:

In the past seven months or so, I tried to externalise whatever I was feeling, with the exception of in front of my mum and extended family. I think the fact that I was not allowed to feel it in its fullest with the people I live, prolonged the amount of time I needed to get through it, because talking/communicating outwardly is how I sort of get through and over things. I'm saddened to say that my values are not my mum's values, and her deep shame at whatever she has experienced in her life and that has happened in mine, made me feel much more negative about myself and the incident, than I objectively would have, and even do right now.

But that's besides the point. First I want to say, most, almost all of the people who were by my side through the past year, have been the greatest help, and I'm immensely grateful that they stepped up, spoke some words to me, showed that I wasn't alone, even if I felt I was. I made boundaries, saying what I thought would be okay for them to say or ask, and what I thought would upset me, and beyond just sticking to those lines, they said some really comforting things: don't feel like you need to set a deadline to feel better, take all the space and time you need, let the days pass, and don't count down or up to anything. Every day is just another separate day, every step is another step. A couple of people said things that weren't very helpful, but I'm going to assume they haven't had any prior experience in coping with depression, so that's fine. They tried, and I think that's what matters.

I am by nature an expressive person, and that's possibly why I'm articulate (at least on a screen even if not in person). I say things to people, loved ones, or the public. Anyone. I might be fortunate that I knew to set my initial boundaries of people wanting to express concern, and that people who were in the know generally were amazing at taking care of me. However, I still felt that during the time I expressed my darkest thoughts, certain members of the audience were uncomfortable with it, and they made me feel like i) I had no business expressing negativity, and ii) I should snap out of it, as if it was as simply done as said. I think that it's a nasty, pathetic side of social media that you feel pressured to only share the good things, so that you don't "affect anyone else". It's problematic, because as life goes, it's not always shiny, happy people, doing shiny, happy things. This is probably why people forget that life is quite often full of shite things happening to good people.

If any one of you reading this feels what I'm talking about, I hope you know that you shouldn't have to hide your sadness. You can talk about feeling down and out, despite trying otherwise. I hope that the people in your social circles are as kind and soft and generous as the ones who have been for me, and that you understand that people being people, there are those who will go through the worst of it with you, even though others put you through that worst. I hope that your loved ones step up for you the way they did for me. Otherwise, if you're ever overwhelmed, whoever you are, and wherever you're from, you can talk to me, because hey look! I am a fellow human being who is way too familiar with messing up. This offer stands, months and years from now, as long as I'm alive.

On kids, adoption & perhaps the general state of the world:

In a semi-ironic turn of events, I have a feeling I will not be giving birth in my life. When the choice was presented to me, my heart and hormones overruled my head, and I felt I needed to have it. This was amplified because I generally hate and avoid making major decisions and am pretty much crippled from saying "no", so when I found out the news, I was leaning towards "okay, well that's it then, this is happening" but in a much more frantic, chaotic manner. I didn't think about it all that rationally, because I'm telling you, wait till you go through it (meaning: guys, you're exempt from this, as you always happen to be) and your hormones are a mess, the very word 'rationale' will no longer exist in your vocabulary.

However, since that choice was removed by chance (it happens to 80% of women, I learned a new fact!), I've had the time to properly think about it, about bringing a life into this world. Between my last birthday and this one, among the myriad of injustices are: Trump became POTUS, Syria happened and is still happening, multiple more "religious-backed" terrorist attacks took place and will inevitably continue to. The closest description to how I feel about the state of the world is... helpless. In this era of technology, there are people still living in poverty, or diseased, or lacking access to food and water, or all of the aforementioned, born with nary a chance of education or climbing out of their plight. Kids are brainwashed and recruited to join "religious" extremist groups, lest harsh consequences are carried out to themselves or their families.

All we do, all we can do, is close our eyes and numb ourselves. We raise our kids wherever the heck we are, try to give our kids the best advantage they can have, without acknowledging that one more kid we have is one less chance an impoverished child could have at making it anywhere in this world. Human life on this planet is a zero-sum game. The resources I take up, disadvantages someone else. We are overcrowded, overpopulated, and yet we care more about portraying our shiny, happy lives in saturated squares.

I don't know why I had this existential crisis but I think I might like LA because it's full of people trying to escape reality. Pick your poison: dance, date, drink, drug. Try to find your life purpose, buy into the lie and feel sorry for yourself, when to be honest, life itself has no meaning. We don't feel empathy for people we're not "related" to. The default human condition has to be sedated or we face the stark truth of life, unfair and full of suffering, too crippling for the average person to deal with.

The world is in a very sombre and sordid state of affairs, and I honestly think if ever I were properly ready to raise a child, I would adopt an orphan. I will not be bringing another life into existence and have to put on rose-colored glasses for them, pretend everything is happy and shiny. I think I would like to help someone who might be in a dire situation otherwise, and hopefully be for them the person I needed when I was younger, or even be the person that I still need now.

I hope I don't come across as.... perceiving that this is the only right thing to do. I'm well aware that not everybody has gone through the same things I have. Every individual story is their own. I'm happy for people who have found someone to share the rest of their lives together, and also really happy if and when they do have their own offspring. Perhaps they've got their lives well put together enough that they would raise their child to do good for the world, or perhaps they're a celebrity who can raise their own child and still manage to offset their carbon footprint, or fund another disadvantaged child's existence. Who knows? I'm not here to judge, and I'm not judging anybody.

Also: I'm barely twenty-seven, and I don't claim to know everything. Of course nothing is set in stone. Nothing ever is. Maybe when Trump is no longer POTUS nor instigating casual bigotry, the world will be a fairer place. Maybe people will be more compassionate towards immigrants and realise they're all just seeking brighter futures. Maybe racism will actually be acknowledged as a problem and cops don't shoot black kids just because they're perceived "threats". Maybe one day, terrorism will be tackled and the illogical problem-solution misfit of having too much food wastage in the world and yet millions of people not having access to any food will be solved. Maybe one day I could be motivated to give birth to my own kid, but looking at the world as it is now, maybe not in my lifespan.

....Especially since my father had six kids and my mother had four (overlapping two), and I feel like that's enough to make up for my portion of the birth rate/population control. Sorry, I tried not to go there, but I still did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On love, dating, relationships & Joey:

As well as being a hopeless romantic, I tend to be pragmatic, and those two concepts don't necessarily gel very well. So... I don't yet know where this is going to go, until it's typed and then we shall see, together. This could possibly be like five different tangents crossing over and tangling with each other, and I could be going back and forth about stuff.

My mother and I occasionally don't get along because we have differing ideas on gender performance and conformity. I subscribe to the notion that life would be much simpler if human adults were allowed to act on their natural instincts, but she subscribes to the idea that life is a test, and we don't live for this life. It creates some tension in our house and in our relationship, and I understand that she doesn't see my point of view, but she seems to think that my moral value is linked to the clothes I wear, or what I do with my body. As much as I respect our right to practise different lifestyles, I wish she would understand that just because I don't like all the things she likes, or I don't believe all the things she does, does not in any way mean I disrespect her or love her less. Love is love is love. I love her, but I also don't think you have to agree on everything with the people you love, or change them to be like you. I say this in this part of the blogpost because I have massive amounts of love for my family, but certain things strain our relationship, and I find it unnecessary.

I like to do things based on trust, and freedom. I know I'm not alone in feeling this way. Practically speaking, you cannot change a person's belief just because you believe in something. Not unless it's a scientific fact that cannot be disproved like, the earth is round. That's not how God and religion are, though, and even if God exists, I'm sure that "there is no compulsion in religion" would be a basic and true tenet. That my path in life is my own, and I should not be living according to how another believer wants me to live my life. That's not how it works. If the intention is not organically my own, and I'm only doing it because someone else is preaching to me to do those things, am I a true believer? I feel like as kind and sincere as a person's intentions might be, to be "religious" and spread the word, sometimes it backfires and pushes others away. We were not all intended to live the same way, we were all made different. I think this is why I'm so dissatisfied with living in Singapore, this place has no trust for its citizens, the sale of chewing/bubble gum is prohibited because we are not trusted to dispose of gum properly. I mean, how can a relationship be a happy one when it has no trust, no freedom and so much restriction? We also still have the death penalty, which goes to show human rights isn't the most forwarded of causes here.

This is also why I think travelling is crucial to personal development. People my age and younger are more open and accepting, regardless of the faiths they subscribe to. We've seen that there is so much to this, so much more to living on Earth. The world has seven billion people, of whom 1.8 billion profess to be Muslim. These billions of Muslims believe different things, live their lives differently. There are 1.8 billion ways of being a Muslim, and just because you believe in one specific, certain way does not allow you to override how I want to live as a Muslim. I think people who haven't seen the world are afraid of seeing that other forms of Islam, or even of Christianity, of atheism, and various alternative lifestyles exist, and that these people are good, and happy, and morally-upright people. It's a threat to their own beliefs, that you need to be or do things in a certain way, before you are considered to be living your life right. I feel bad for the generations before me, of course, because they've always been slogging too hard, too much of the time, to travel the way our generation does, and they tend to stick to what they know instead of expanding their horizons.

I understand that my mum's protectiveness comes from a place of concern, and I appreciate it, but I really want to say, what I need is please let me be my own person and live my own life. I would like to tell my mum that she's done a fine enough job of raising me, but I'm an adult and it is my turn to make my decisions, and trust that no matter what I do, it is fully informed and I will never regret the choices I make. One of my best friends said something that added to my perspective a couple of nights ago. She said, "if your mum believes that life is a test from God, then she should see it as a test for herself, that you were created differently from her, that you question and do things differently, but still try to accept you the way God would accept you."

The thing about it being tough for me is that apart from my sexuality and openness to the world, unlike certain people who have chronic issues with their relatives and loved ones, my family and I actually really love each other and get along well. That's why it's not as easy for me to just say, oh I'll pursue my freedom and do more of what makes me happy, because my mum would take it as a sign that I don't care for her, which is not true at all. It's like I'm stuck between a feather pillow and a really soft place, but either way, I will be smothered to death.

Right, so, anyway.

I love Joey, or I like him very, very much. I suppose there is no way I can deny this. I try to be conscious of why I do what I do, or why I feel how I feel, so I ask myself, why do you love Joey? I know sometimes people wonder whether race/skin colour/culture plays a part, because I've been dating mostly Westerners in the past couple of years. I can't say it isn't true. I've dated my fair share of Asian guys, and given my worldviews, I really find it easier for myself to relate to liberal Western men. Most men here were raised by women who, directly or indirectly, gave in to their boys' demands, much more easily than to their daughters. When men like these meet me, they expect me to also fold and cave, defer to them, the way their mothers did to their fathers.

I cannot speak for all of Asia, but in Singapore, and from the pool of Asians I dated, local men are misogynistic, and it's so internalised they haven't even begun to acknowledge or unpack it. It's in all the cultures here, even if we have the majority Chinese, and minority Malay/Indians. Our society, when it comes down to a basic family nucleus, will prioritise males over females. We still allow our boys to be lazy at home, but never girls. We believe in antiquated ideas like, guys can have sex with many partners, but not girls, or you will lose your "value". In fact, the very patriarchal concept of virginity still exists here. If you could just see me rolling my eyes now.... I don't even mean this to occur only in generations before my own, it's so ingrained that some of my best friends still subscribe to it. Until quite recently, so did I. In my own religious/cultural background, men are still the "leaders" of the household, and my female voice/viewpoint is dismissed so much more easily when I am speaking to a Malay man, than if I were to speak to a Western man.

I just had a conversation with my grandmother last night, and she's the sweetest, but she believes in things that make me outright scoff (I don't think I know how to scoff: Gabe ref, anyone?). She advised me to change my image --she literally used the word "image" which is a pretty big deal, considering she doesn't feel comfortable speaking English-- so that I can attract a decent man, to marry me. Because Lord forbid that "good, decent" men love "non-wholesome" women such as myself. Upside-down smiley parade!!!! Omg breaking news, I just found out you can use emojis on Blogger. 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

I'm a feminist, and an overwhelmingly outspoken one at that, so I know that I will not get along with any man who was raised in a patriarchal/sexist way. Of course I know there are Western men who are just as sexist as any Asian man, and Asian men who are properly feminist, but the latter are few and far between. Generally, if you're an Asian man who benefits from the privilege you have over Asian women, I doubt you'd be too bothered to try to change the status quo. Also: if you're a feminist woman who's dating or in a relationship with an actual feminist man (and not the kind who profess themselves feminist just to get laid by liberal feminist women, because yes of course such sleazeball men exist), congratulations, you've snagged yourself a rare Pokémon, and I am very happy for you.

Then there's the issue of money. I don't have to say it, but someone else has probably already thought it. I could have fallen for Joey because I'm attracted to money. I mean, of all the hosts I stayed with, Joey was the most well-to-do. He and I had a joke about his family being superprivileged because their house has three living rooms, for goodness' sake. Plus, he was also the one who drove the sports car, bringing me racing in the Malibu canyons. I must say, though, I've always loved adrenaline rushes, it's been one of my favourite things to take thrill rides with Han to celebrate our birthdays or overseas trips, so obviously, I would fall for the guy who drives racecars, right? I could unwittingly become the poster-girl for Good Charlotte lyrics "girls don't like boys, girls like cars and money." And it's such a tired trope, of Asian women being with white guys for their money. When I was in LA, there were Uber drivers who told me to find a man with a navy-blue passport (ie. the US passport, to the uninitiated) to marry, and I giggled, but also I was dismayed, because it really still happens, and I'm just like what?!?!?!?!

So yeah, it would be tough for me to disprove that I like Joey for the fact that he's a rich white guy. Because he's white and rich. But then I know that's not the person I am. I'm a romantic, I've never needed money to enjoy the best relationships I've had, plus apart from letting me live under his roof, Joey didn't pay for anything for me. One time, I think I was looking for cash for some takeout we'd ordered, and he was telling me I didn't have to pay for it, but he was hesitant and tentative about doing it. I dunno if it's 'cos he knows I'm a feminist and he thought I wouldn't be okay with him offering to pick up the tab, or if he didn't wanna insult me by insinuating that I wasn't able to support myself (although tbh I was indeed running low on funds). Or perhaps he just thought I was out to use him for his money. Who knows? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If Joey was a regular working-class guy, I'd date him and probably feel more comfortable about it. If I wanna date a white guy, Joey or otherwise, I'd have to be financially stable myself, and work for my own livelihood, but because he's financially very comfortable, I have to work even harder to show that it's not his money that I like. It would be so much easier if he was broke like I am, lololol. Also: I have dated filthy rich guys and dirt-broke guys, and those other affluent men gave me no feelings and some guys with no cash were my favourites, so. Bottomline is, I shouldn't have had to prove it to anyone but money really isn't what matters to me.

The previous few paragraphs were: "not reasons why I like Joey", and the next few are "reasons why I do like Joey". Also, just as a heads up, sometimes I think being around me is like constantly having to remember the fifth amendment, because everything you say and do, can and probably will be used about you. It's not even only for men, I do the same thing with everyone. If you say/do something and I witness it, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll store it in the compartment of my brain that recognises who everyone is. It's my journalistic tendencies playing out in all my life aspects.

Anyway, anyhow.

He's empathetic, although he doesn't show it unless prodded. In the last few days of my trip to LA, one of my ex-bosses in Singapore passed away, so Joey and I had a conversation about prayers. I was being cynical, but then Joey said "well, people do what they need to feel better, and sometimes praying helps people feel better." When we ordered pizza, Joey gave the pizza guy more cash for tips, which had slipped my mind, because in Singapore "tips" are incorporated in the bill and we don't have a tipping culture. He said "we gotta tip him, he's on minimum wage and I'm a decent human being!" The first night I met him, I word-vomitted my life story up to that moment, and he said "I would wanna run away if that happened to me, too."

He is incredibly patient, he gave me my first-ever practical driving lesson in his Honda stick-shift, at a Kaiser Permanente parking lot. Do you know how many times I stalled the engine, and had to restart it again? More times than I can remember. In one afternoon. His poor, beat-up car. I feel bad for it. I also feel bad for him, because he had to explain how to rest my hands and how to move them to turn the steering wheel, so that they wouldn't cross over each other. He repeated this eleventeen hundred times and I still didn't get it, because I am a dumbass. (Also: shouldn't my level of hand-eye coordination be the same for driving and for drumming, but, how???) The whole time I was just amazed at how patient he was, and I wanted to kiss him. Maybe I wanted to see his patience for teaching me and how long it would have taken to push him over the edge, because I'm crazy.

One of the weekends, after we'd got back from racing his Mazda in the canyons, I left his car immediately because I wanted to get to his air-conditioned room. In case you don't know me, I suffer from hyperhidrosis, so I'm almost constantly perspiring. It used to be palmar hyperhidrosis (and I'd always spoil gadgets from holding on to them), but then I went for a procedure called endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy, which cut the nerves to my palms so I would never perspire there again, and now I just sweat equally excessively from everywhere else. That day was a hot summer day in LA, and Joey's Mazda doesn't have A/C (he removed it so it would be a light body kit ideal for racing), so his car is essentially a sauna in the sun. I wasn't really thinking about my car seat probably covered in all my sweat when I left the car (and I know how much it would have pooled because even in air-conditioned public transport I can see my beads of sweat left on the seats). I didn't mean to leave him behind, I just needed to get into the cool indoors. After the fact, though, I realised I should have stayed and helped him, because omg, it's my sweat, but the thing is, he never mentioned it, nor did he ever show anything to signify that it bothered him in the slightest.

You know? It's all these things that I find gross about myself, that certain people would just brush off and say "nah, it's human" that make me feel like, aww, that's really nice and understanding. As an aside, the fact that I have hyperhidrosis is possibly one of the reasons why I may never put on weight. It's not exactly a great trade-off. I mean, you should see the number of clothes I can soak in a day, from doing nothing but sitting down. Eurgh.

The night we were at Hermosa, I needed to pee, so I insisted on taking an Uber or lyft back, although he told me we were near enough to walk home. It took forever, because it was a Saturday night and everybody was waiting to get an Uber/lyft, but Joey and I sat at a bus stop (I don't actually know what the structure was, tbh), and I remember going on and on about needing to pee, but never considering walking home. When we got back, I realised that the ride was really short, and we could have walked for sure. It's moments like those, that I really appreciate him always giving in, and letting me have my way. For someone whose favourite word is adamant and who considers himself adamant, he's actually really sweet and.... pliable. Perhaps I can just be more adamant than he is.

Then there are all the little things, because it's always the little things, innit? The time I was FaceTiming with my grandma, Joey popped his head to say "hi, grandma!" but I said "Joey, duck! my grandma's not supposed to know I'm in your bed." The man was housing me for three weeks of the summer and yet I wouldn't let him be in my FaceTime frame with my grandma. Or when he brought me to meet his friends at parties, or for meals. When he was scratching Love Story by Taylor Swift, for me, and Russ came into the room unexpectedly, throwing both Joey and I off. That he's an engineer who works on the design of rockets for SpaceX, and I felt small, but then he said "you know lots of things I don't! you speak three languages!" and my head went: oh my God you are an attractive, intelligent, lovely, musically-trained man, please don't add humility to the mix, stahp making me fall for you even more, stahp, staaaaahp my heart is melting already.

Or when we started discussing limousines 'cos we saw one. He told me he and his housemates owned a limo for a period of time, so I asked whether it had any pull effect on girls, and he said "I dunno, I had a girlfriend while we had the limousine", which signaled very loud and clearly to me, that this was a man who would not cheat. He was offhand about it, he didn't know me well enough yet to know that my mind is a database of conversations, but I knew, as much of a party guy as he is, he doesn't see a reason to cheat, which is basically all that I look for, isn't it? It saddens me to say it, but I'm attracted to people who don't remind me of my father, and Joey fits the bill completely. He's faithful, honest and responsible. I can tell by his dynamics with his housemates and neighbours that he's usually the reliable one, financially or otherwise.

And then earlier this year, while I was back in Singapore, after having read my posts, he told me upfront that he was starting to see someone else. He stopped being in contact with me, but then he was no longer dating that person, so we started talking again. I was assured 'cos he understands that I just require complete honesty, after having been strung along, so many times. I was grateful that he told me, although he didn't need to be at all accountable to me, because we were never in a relationship and he's not obligated to, and also because I was also already dating back here (to get over the incident, I think it helped somewhat).

I could try to rationalise it till the cows come home, but that's all probably after the fact. I love Joey, and there is no explanation for it. It's in how he texts me at some random time, I could be anywhere doing anything, and I light up at his text. It doesn't even matter what he texts me, I'm happy to know that he's alive and well. That I'm on his mind is secondary, just knowing he's okay is what makes me glad. If I could just know intermittently in life that he's okay, it feels right for me. It feels like everything is going to be okay.

So, you know, sometimes people ask whether Joey likes me, and I've also been wondering the same even since I was still in LA. Bill, this other really sweet host of mine, asked whether Joey liked me, because it was obvious that I liked him. My answer is always... I suppose? I suppose he liked me a reasonable amount, and Bill agreed, because yknow, he was patient with me and let me drive his car, I was the first person who rode pillion on his new bike, he thought of me while he was out with his friends, and Ti'aan, one of his housemates, said I was always on Joey's mind, etc etc. I suppose he liked me enough while I was in LA, for us to date while I was there, because it was convenient. But Joey is an ambitious man, and his work is important, world-changing work, so he's too busy to keep up with anything that takes too much effort.

And I get it. He grew up in California, and more than that, he grew up very comfortably in California. As a 27-year-old man, he has the prerogative to be carefree and have fun. It could be all that he has known, so I understand that. I don't know how attractive he is when placed against other white men, or how attractive he is to white people, or in the grand scheme of attractiveness, but to me, I think he's super cute. I feel very strongly attracted to him, and I used to think it's because I really like cuteypie boyish types (which Joey was) who have clean-shaven faces, but then a couple of weeks ago, he sent me a photo of him with a full-grown beard and mustache, and my brain instantly went "dayummm, this man is fine" so I thought this must be love hahahahaha. ;P

This next tangent may sound a little crass or crude, but if it does, you shouldn't be surprised 'cos I've always been crass/crude *fake gasp*. I understand that Joey wants to have fun and be free because frankly, I do too. He's an understanding, intelligent, rich, attractive, talented man, he should have no dearth of suitors. In a matter of heightened self-awareness, nor do I. Sometimes I get amused when the men I date say they were intrigued by me because they think I'm strong for having gone through so much, or they're fascinated by the way I think. I want to roll my eyes because if I looked less attractive, it wouldn't have mattered how "valuable" my life experiences are, they would have swiped left. I'm gonna be honest with you, if the men I date can be superficial and decide on me because I know how to wear bronzer to give myself cheekbones, or that I'm tall and slim and dress myself well, there is no reason why I can't afford myself the same luxury of being picky about how my man looks. Especially because I know beyond the makeup and clothes, I actually do have some substance in the form of my brains and heart.

When I got rejected by the men I fancied, which has happened several times in my life, they would tell me "Sarah, look at you, a girl like you will definitely find someone" and it could be just some standard template answer people give to the ones they don't fancy, and I never believed it was true, until now. Now, I truly believe there is nothing wrong with me. I have gone through enough life to know that there are guys who would go the extra mile for me, I am an intelligent, loyal, affectionate, independent, inquisitive, witty, sociable woman who can stand up for myself and hold my ground. I also am really busy with my own life. I barely have enough time to sleep: I'm always hustling to earn money, I have good friends to meet, movies and TV shows to watch and books to read to learn something new about the world every day. I have my own book to keep writing. I mean, look, there are people half my age, and some twice my age, who are reading this, from as far as thousands of miles away. For some reason, my words matter in some form or manner, to people I don't even know. I don't quite have time to date either, if I actually really sorted out my priorities by matter of importance. I think traditional men want women to perpetually be besotted with the idea of romance and love so we're too distracted to take over the world and run it ourselves.

This is me living out what I learned from the research in Aziz Ansari's Modern Romance. Our grandparents, and their grandparents, and everyone before that used to marry the first person they dated, and often within the same block, if not the same apartment building. But now, we live in the age of a multitude of options. Given our current lifespans, let's take the average decline of virility at 60, that means if I get married at 30, and assuming we want our marriage to work out, my life partner and I would have to be physically faithful to each other for thirty years*. I say this because I'm not the kind of person who would forgive my partner if they cheated on me. I especially cannot stand it when cheats go back to their spouse and say "it didn't mean anything". You did a wrong by cheating on me, you don't get to define what that wrong means to me. We made a promise to stick with each other through everything, so if you cheat on me, that means to me, the victim of your wrongdoing, that you consciously chose to forget about me and the promise you made to me, and that promise now means nothing. Sayonara, sucker.

*thirty years though, dyou know how long that is? That's longer than I have lived so far, and my 27 years already feels like an eternity.... The FOMO could be quite real.

That's why I think, pragmatically speaking, I do believe there is some good in exploring the options I have. This is possibly a bad analogy to use, and hopefully my husband is not the kind to think of women as food/objects, but here goes: when I say sushi is my favourite food, I am comparing it to every type of food I've had, or it would mean nothing. If I've only had sushi in my life, then my conclusion isn't even very objective or significant. So when I choose my life partner, I want to know that I've dated a range of men, and my favourite person that I want to settle down with is actually my favourite based on all previous experiences I've had, and not some "divine" intervention or a media-backed idea of "the one". While I'm doing this, I also hope my future life partner (if I have one) is doing the same, so that when we do commit to each other, he's well aware of the entire "sea of fish" that he's forgoing for a life with me, that he knows what I'm worth and, through at least thirty years, not think of what-ifs and could-have-beens. Also: the good thing about my not wanting to give birth is, now my biological clock can keep ticking, and I could still date. :)

I don't know if the idea isn't romantic, but divorce rates are high, and judging by some failing marriages, it should be even higher than it actually is. It's why I believe cohabitation is thoroughly important before a couple decides to spend the rest of their lives together. I guess that's how I actually developed some levels of connection with Joey. We knew each other's pet peeves, or when to do our own thing and stay out of each other's way, even when I was living in his house. Close to a decade ago, I forget whether it was before, during or after B and I were doing long-distance while he studied in Melbourne, Shahida asked "how often do you feel the need to meet your boyfriend?" and I said "maybe once every three weeks" so she literally, hyperbolically said, "wow he could be living on Mars." It's 'cos my favourite things to do are solitary activities, I don't need company for the things I enjoy doing. I like to read, write, watch TV/movies, and none of those things requires having someone else with me. In fact, I quite like doing them alone. I like being in my own head, and zoning out by myself.

One of my hosts, from much earlier in my trip, was sweet, but also very chatty, and I complained about it to Joey and my best friends. Joey doesn't really like to talk much, which was brilliant for me, because as you can all attest from the ramble of words above, when I'm in the mood, I can talk nineteen to the dozen. Like the time Big Wok would not accept my $1 coins from the Metro top-up machine and I ranted: "I'm gonna take this up with the government, I'm in the US now and I have rights!!!! I should be able to use coins that are valid US currency!!" He just rolled his eyes and laughed, I'm pretty sure he thought "this crazy Singapore girl."

So.... Yup. I no longer know whether I lean closer to romantic or practical, because I think, practically speaking, you have to try with a few potential candidates before you find the best fit, for a considerably long period of time.

On Netflix and no chill:

TV used to be a form of distraction to keep the masses occupied. I suppose it still is, but personally I really love Netflix's great content. Considering I had to keep myself distracted while keeping my depression at bay, Netflix was such an amazing preoccupation, the things they've recently been churning out are entertaining, relevant, and I'd say could boost your brain cell activity, rather than killing them.

There are 8 shows on Netflix that I'd have to say I would recommend to anyone and everyone, and I would get Netflix accounts for all of you just so you could watch those eight. (Or at the very least: Black Mirror. Get on it, y'all.)

I really enjoy Chef's Table, it's a documentary about chefs/restaurants/food. It's my favourite documentary series ever. On the one hand, I don't watch many documentaries so you might not want to take my word for it, because what do I know about the topic, right? On the other hand, perhaps because I tend not to watch documentaries but have overwhelming love for Chef's Table, you might be convinced that it's a really interesting series to watch. 😍

Each episode is about a chef with a fascinating story, like Grant Achatz who had tongue cancer, and had to create recipes without the use of his taste, but entirely from memory. I mean, c'mon, what? It's very diverse, too, there are Asians and South Americans, an Australian and as far out as Slovenia. Who even thinks of Slovenia as a place? Where are they? Who cares? Me, 'cos I wanna go to Ana Ros' restaurant, which is also literally her home, in one bungalow-building-thing.

The videography is visually stunning, and wherever it's filmed, you really get the sense of the place as a story, and why it played a part in the creation of the restaurant, or the inspirations behind the respective chefs' styles. Also: it always leaves me hungry. Even though some of it looks like art. It's like an ~experience~ just watching Chef's Table. I have a new aim in life that is to try and visit as many of the Chef's Table restaurants, or to meet the chefs and try their cooking (not all of them run restaurants, one is actually a monk in Korea). I know there were two episodes about restaurants in L.A. and another in San Francisco. I think I'll try hit them up the next time I'm in Cali.

I started watching Chewing Gum with two of my sisters, and we got hooked because it pretty much depicts myself and Melyssa. (Also: we're all trying to switch from calling her Lyssa to Mel, so when I say Mel, please get on board.) It's about these British black sisters who live with their excessively strict religious Christian mum, and how they end up being sneakily rebellious 'cos they're always thirsty and trying to get some.

If that sounds familiar...... ;)

It's set up in a British ghettoish community, and with the wry wit and dry humour, the things she and her sister get up to are unbelievable but hilarious. She had a cocaine trip without even knowing it. It was mostly a fun show to watch, and very short and few episodes, so if you wanna kill time laughing at nonsense, Chewing Gum is a great option.

(At this moment in time, because this post was written over a few days, of course - I don't have the luxury of spending too much time writing in one sitting - but anyway, at this point of time, my colleague just reminded me of glasses that were invented to help correct colour-blindness, she brought it up in conversation because her brother is colour-blind. Then I thought, hey those would make a good gift for Joey, who is also colour-blind.

Also, I just got a new laptop and I'm trying to get myself a sleeve so I don't destroy this one like I did my previous laptop. I'm on Amazon and I see so many things I like, but none of them ships to Singapore. Why, Singapore, Y DO U HATE ME? Imma have to ship it to my U.S. P.O. box --thank fuck for entrepreneurial initiatives-- then forward it to Singapore, meaning double the shipping time and prices. Ugh. #firstworldproblems

Yeah, that's all, goodbye. Go on with the rest of the post.)

Imma let you finish but Black Mirror is the best TV show of all time. Of. All. Time. It's a series set in either an alternative-reality or the near-future with even more advanced technology, such as the ability to store your memories in memory-card-like "grains", set a part of yourself as a "cookie" so that the rest of your brain can be used optimally for more important functions, etc. etc.

The best part about Black Mirror is that, while surreal, all the technology implemented seems like it could be real and happen very soon, and the moral issues that come about from the use of such gadgets were portrayed very realistically. I loved the White Bear, Fifteen Million Merits and San Junipero episodes, or the twist ending in Men With Fire. To be honest, out of thirteen episodes in the series so far, I think I could have eleven favourites.

I enjoyed everything about Black Mirror, from the universe it was set in, to the dialogue, to the brilliant acting. It was such good writing, it just made me feel like, this is the stuff I want to be writing!!! You might know that the novel I'm writing.... When anyone asks what genre it is, I tend to answer "sci-fi", although I try to avoid putting it into a specific genre, because it's not really, really sci-fi, and sci-fi makes people think of very futuristic, sciencey stuff like Star Wars or Star Trek. It sort of would fit into an episode of Black Mirror, or the film Her.

Sometimes I pretend that I watch Netflix for research purposes for my writing, but I think Black Mirror actually fulfilled that precise intention. In any case, I do try to watch and read things that I think might be similar premises to my novel, so I know what's been written and done before, and how novel my idea actually is. So far, so good, but you never know...

While we're on the topic of alternative realities, there is also the Brazilian dystopian thriller, 3%. When I first started watching it, it was automatically set on the English dubbing, which looked so incongruous with their lips, that I initially thought it was part of the technology available in their reality. Like when the President was making his speech in Portuguese, the audience could hear it in English because it was translated into their language of choice in the transmitters in their respective ears. Turns out it was just my Netflix settings....

I think the twist that happens in the eighth and final episode of the series, of the... caveat for joining the Offshore, was really interesting 'cos it adds a new dimension for it to be a requirement. I thought it might have made more sense to reveal it earlier to create an intrigue with the audience, but then I suppose it also works that we found out at the same time as the participants, because they didn't know what was at stake, either. It's almost like we shared the same sense of betrayal and internal conflict that the participants would have felt at the blindside.

Also, once you find out, the little clues that they let slip up to the finale become sort of Easter eggs that fit together with the reveal. If you do watch it, please watch it in its original Portuguese language because the English probably loses some impact (who watches stuff that is dubbed in a different language, srsly? :/).

Love is one of my favourite things in life, if not my ultimate favourite. It is also one of my favourite Netflix original series. It's set in Los Angeles, and that alone wins hands down. They go around Echo Park, Eagle Rock, Silver Lake, DTLA, Topanga, on the Metro, farmers' markets all over, and the landscape is so familiar yet so distant, that I love seeing it all over again.

It's a love/relationship story formed between two rather dysfunctional adults, and so basically it's really relateable for everyone who watches. I love Love, it's funny, sweet, and features all the feelings that you get when you're just starting to get to know someone new, and all the kinks and hi-jinks and friction that occur even though you're both trying so hard....

It reminds me of a dialogue from (500) Days of Summer that goes like this:

"What happened, why didn't they work out?"
"What always happens --- life."

In season 2 of Love, they sort of do work out, don't work out, work out again, but life always happens, and that's love, too.

The three final and most important shows available on Netflix are Dear White People, Trevor Noah's stand-up show, Afraid of the Dark and Hasan Minhaj's stand-up show, Homecoming King.

Dear White People exists in two formats on Netflix, one its original film, and then the television series. One of the first few lines in the movie is “Dear white people, the minimum requirement of black friends needed to not seem racist has just been raised to two. Sorry, but your weed man, Tyrone, does not count.”

I think the TV series is much better, possibly 'cos it's better expanded and elaborated, but the film is a great crash course if you don't have eight hours to spare for the TV series (but you definitely need to try). It's about a mixed half-black, half-white girl who has a radio show, called Dear White People, to deal with the issues of racism present in her college.

If you are the type of person who believes that racism was long gone from the very moment slavery was abolished (or that racism doesn't exist in Singapore), then I'm sorry, this is exactly the show for you.

There is one precise scene in which the college kids are partying, and everything goes innocently (or at least as much as a college party can be), they're playing drinking games and it's all fun up till the cops are called. When the cops arrive, of course they decide the cause of the commotion is the black student, and when the black guy (Reggie) decides that it was unfair for the cop to have asked only him for his ID, he gets a gun pointed right in his face for "not cooperating". This college kid, who's one of the smartest kids in the room, who didn't ask for trouble, gets ID'd and put at gunpoint. That scene was done to perfection, and it sums up pretty much the state of racial relations in the US.

I love the sarcasm that Sam White (radio show host of Dear White People) uses, and I love how every single black character was not a token black character, but a person by themselves, because truly, black people don't exist to serve as your "I'm-not-racist" token friend, they are people. I feel like I understand to a little extent how they feel, because in Singapore, Malays and Indians make up the minority whereas the Chinese majority here are sort of our parallel for white people.

I mean, I don't have people asking whether they can touch my hair (I swear to God if I were a black person with black hair getting asked this, I would punch someone's face) but one time, someone Chinese (a friend's parent, who thought it was... well-meaning? IDK?) said "oh, Sarah, you're quite pretty for a Malay girl", and I'm like, hold up, was that a microaggressive comment to end all microaggressive comments? Did you just think you were complimenting me by putting down my entire race??

Also, you can see that most beauty bloggers or influencers or celebrities here are Chinese, and obviously their beauty standards are not mine, because we don't look the same, we have different skin tones and different features, and it SUCKS that because they are the majority, everything is catered to them.

Wait I didn't mean to hijack the Dear White People section. Where was I? Um. If you want some top-notch crucial edutainment, please watch Dear White People, Afraid of the Dark and Homecoming King. They handle race issues with gracious wit and humour, so hopefully if you're a white person, you would no longer feel offended by the fact that you aren't allowed to "blackface" (gist of it is: being black is not a costume, you don't get to "wear their skin" for one night and soak up the laughs or the glamour of being Nicki Minaj, then not live with the hardships she had to go through because she worked harder to get where she is, on account of being black).

Also: I guess all three are light-hearted enough for the audience to just feel enough empathy for victims of racism, through relating to their experiences, without being too preachy about it. It definitely provides more humour and amusement than I can explain here.

Man I could go on forever. Another reason why I thoroughly enjoyed both DWP and Afraid of the Dark is because the protagonist of DWP is female, and Trevor Noah is woke enough that he has some feminist issues he jokes about. I would tap Trevor Noah again and again and again. Blogger doesn't have the 100 100 100 emoji, Blogger why can't you keep up with the times tho. (Also: Trevor Noah has a sort-of cute good-boy face, does he not? Is it just me?)

Afraid of the Dark and Homecoming King are my favourite stand-up comedy shows so far, along with Ali Wong's Baby Cobra. If you're in need of some laughing therapy, I highly suggest any or all of the three. People of colour, y'all are what's up!!!!!!

On turning twenty-seven:

I turned 27 three days ago, and Han joins me in being 27 tomorrow. We've spent 15 years celebrating our birthdays together, which means I have spent more birthdays with her than without. Today, I have twenty-seven years (and three days) of experience to guide me to become the person I was meant to be. I am fortunate enough to have been born in Singapore, one of the most developed cities in the world. The cognitive dissonance that follows is that we have an overly paternalistic government that doesn't trust its citizens, not even to chew gum. It's like we're North Korea pretending to be USA.

I have a slight light-skinned privilege, although not enough. When I was younger, maybe in kindergarten, I realised that most of the kids were Chinese, and spoke Chinese. I learned from young that I'd fit in easier and better if I spoke Mandarin, so I did. I thought it was cool, and other Chinese kids thought it was cool. The positive reinforcement worked, so I began to pick up and speak something that I wasn't being taught to speak at home or school, but now I'm twenty-seven I wonder if it was worth it not paying attention to my own beautiful Malay language. I live in a country where the "elite schools" are majority, if not fully Chinese-enrolled. There is a lot to unpack and navigate for me, in terms of race, gender and identity politics. But I am, as the young kids would say in these times, woke. I don't have to struggle with basic necessities, so I struggle with a "higher" order of needs. Most of my problems are honestly first world problems.

I think about things that privilege prevents many from thinking about, because they don't go through such things in life and don't have to think about it, and they are not curious or motivated enough to want to put themselves in anyone else's shoes to think about them. I understand that racists can have friends of different races and token friends are a sure sign of racism. Playing the "but my best friend is black/Malay/Indian!" card does not in any way exempt you from being racist. Many sexist, chauvinistic men have wives and girlfriends, so yeah, they could be capable of loving or showing love to one woman in particular (if at all), but still not want to liberate women as a whole. Similarly, you can have a best friend from a disadvantaged cultural background but never lift a finger to forward the causes of their race/identity.

I like adrenaline rushes, and I got driven through the canyons by a racing devil, I went to Six Flags in Santa Clarita with Han and we took all the extreme rides there, I've done the reverse bungy locally with her several times, I skydived with my favourite cousin Hazwani in New Zealand, and I did a proper jump-off-a-board bungy in Malaysia with my family. I also love the high of concerts/music in crowds, and I've been to watch some of my favourite acts live. Being in the mosh pit by myself for Muse was an orgasmic experience, Jason Mraz is always so chill and positive (the second time was a treat by another of my favourite people, Sha), I watched Ed Sheeran thanks to the generosity and selflessness of Shereen, who gave up her ticket when we were right outside the theatre 'cos I couldn't find anywhere else to even buy any at the last-minute. I went for Taylor Swift's 1989 with three of my best friends in life. Recently, Coldplay proved phenomenal, in terms of music and light display.

Love and friendship are my favourites, and I am blessed, extremely fortunate to have love in my family, and friendship in people who are pretty much like family. I have had strangers from opposite ends of the world take care of me, while barely even knowing me. People in my life and social circles who have stuck with me through the worst, and also allowed me to see the best that the world has to offer. I don't have to name them, they are mostly mentioned in the previous post, or featured on my Instagram, etc. I love to read and write, and I have been granted the ability to write such that people actually enjoy reading it about as much as I enjoy writing, and for that, I am humbled and eternally grateful. I love to travel, and made (hopefully) lifelong connections all over the world. I've seen how people live in India, China, LA, New Zealand, Australia, etc. My best friend and I got to watch the sunset from a yacht at Marina Del Rey, such a film-worthy setting, rather like many of my experiences in life.

Finally, a form of love and relationship I always have space in my head and heart for is my affinity for words, and therefore it makes sense that every time my birthday comes around, my favourite thing is to read long, lovely wishes. As I've said, Huda is one of my kindred spirits in terms of love and our shared love for words, and so as a matter of course, she included a book excerpt in her wish for me this year. Did I not tell you that (I'm not like that: Avril ref, anyone?) she and I have exchanged thousands upon thousands of words via email exchange, in real life, in text?

Life hasn't been the kindest to you, and I wish I could have done more throughout-- I know I could have-- I wish that life would have treated you better, gentler-- but I also know that everything that has happened has changed you and made you the person that you are, the Sarah Mei Lyana that I know and love today--.

I've been reading a book called The Course Of Love which I think you will enjoy. Here is an excerpt that reminded me of this mad friendship:

"There are other ways to look at love. In their philosophy, the ancient Greeks offered a usefully unfashionable perspective on the relationship between love and teaching. In their eyes, love was first and foremost a feeling of admiration for the better sides of another human being. Love was the excitement of coming face to face with virtuous characteristics.

It followed that the deepening of love would always involve the desire to teach and in turn be taught ways to become more virtuous: how to be less angry or less unforgiving, more curious or braver."

I think we learn from each other in ways that many shallow friendships do not, that crazy as our lives are we take from it what lessons we can, and try to teach each other in the best way we know how.

There are so many things you have taught me: how to be unapologetically me, to pick myself up after every fall, to love and to love and to love against all odds, relentlessly and unfailingly, to be loyal and to stay true. To yourself, and to the people around you. You have taught me to stand up for myself more, to recognise my worth, to know when I deserve better-- and I will always be grateful.

I think Huda's birthday wish to me is my favourite so far in all my 27 years, just like the cake that my colleagues got me on the eve of my birthday a few days ago, has my favourite message I've ever had on a cake. Whenever my colleagues ask what I want to eat, I say "dick", because I have a dirty mind at most times, sexual innuendos are some of my favourite things. I think and hope this will never change. The cake they got me had the message "Eat a D" and I! Love! It!!!! Photos on Facebook.

I am different from anyone else that I know, so it makes sense if I want different things in life. I have to keep bearing that in mind, anytime I start to think that I don't have what other people have in their lives.

Today I am going to go all out in enjoying myself with my best friends. This morning, Han and I had a birthday pool party, by ourselves. Tonight we'll be watching Captain Fantastic by the beach (it's called Sunset Cinema, all of us lounge around on deck chairs, pretend to be worry-free and watch a movie projected on a screen, listening through wireless headphones, get on it) and have a sleepover together with Atiqah and Shahida.

And then tomorrow it's back to the daily grind. I have a lot of hustling to do. I'll check back in with y'all sometime in the second half of the year. In the meantime, stay safe, so much love, always, Sarah Mei Lyana. xxx