journal/

on-going mostly unedited stream of thoughts

the long haul

There are many people online who are unhappy with the government for not opening up as promised when we reached 80% vaccination in Singapore. They want us to be like the UK, where people are going about maskless, even though there’s like hundreds of people dying everyday. That’s less than 1% of their total daily cases – seems like an acceptable statistic. After all, the narrative is that only the elderly and the ones with pre-existing conditions are dying.

This is what happens when we are taught to think about life and death in terms of probability and statistics I guess. There are elderly and immunocompromised people in my life whom I care deeply for, and I don’t wish for them to be part of that 1%. But I understand the tradeoffs in terms of the economy – how it affects people’s livelihood and mental health. It is still disturbing how callous some people sound when they are like “only the elderly and people with pre-existing conditions are at risk”.

My partner and I are virtually hermits since March 2020. We stopped having a social life, because we don’t feel safe meeting people in situations where we all take off our masks. We all have our own family and friends, and we have no idea where everyone has been and how much potential exposure there have been. We wear a mask even when visiting our parents in their homes.

This probably sounds extreme. But I am a person who has been dealing with chronic illness since 2015, and I know what it is like to be a shell of my former self. My chronic illness has stolen my life away from me. I can say I am grateful for all the lifestyle changes I have made and all the things I have learned since then, but it doesn’t take away the grief I feel when I know I am not a person who is able to do anything she wants. Right now there is no light at the end of the tunnel, every so often when I get a migraine attack I seem to have to start at a negative again. My strength and life force gets zapped away, I have no will nor motivation nor strength to do anything.

It is incredibly isolating, because most people simply do not relate to having a chronic illness. I am tired of giving reasons why I don’t turn up for things, or why I seem so unreliable. I am unreliable even to myself. I break promises I made to myself all the time, because I suddenly get sick, my plans for myself get derailed, I take one step forward and suddenly I find myself ten steps backwards. I often get accused of imagining my illness, or being demanded of things that can only be demanded of a healthy functioning person.

I read accounts of people having long covid and I relate so much to them, though whatever I’m going through seems so trivial compared to them. I have good bouts of days, perhaps at least a week every month. Sometimes when I’m lucky, I enjoy three good weeks. People with long covid suffer every minute of their lives. I know what it is like just to suffer the loss of myself for a mere couple of weeks every month, and the thought of suffering even more everyday is enough to make me a hermit for the rest of my life if that is what it takes to retain some sanity. I think people who have not been seriously ill before tend to have a cavalier attitude towards health. It is something you don’t truly know what you possess until the day you lose it.

Since Covid is relatively new, and the delta variant even newer, there is not enough data for me to make an informed decision. There is not enough data about the probability of getting long covid for vaccinated people. Right now it seems like the odds of getting long covid is one in four people, and for the vaccinated is cut by half, and the chances of having a breakthrough infection with the pfizer vaccine seems to be 40%. So my bad math tells me the probability of me getting long haul is about 5%, which still seems too high for my personal comfort.

There is also not enough information about how people are getting infected even though we have a strict mask mandate in Singapore, with social distancing implemented everywhere except for public transport. Are people getting infected even though they are wearing masks? Or is it only in situations where masks are down, like during dining?

There are so many unanswered questions. I have some hope in medical technology. It is always advancing. Perhaps long covid is an outcome for some nutritional deficiency? Just in case you think I am joking, there is sufficient evidence to suggest bad outcomes of Covid-19 is co-related to Vitamin D deficiency.

For now, we’re choosing to do mostly outdoor activities (japanese youtube video on how aerosol spreads indoors), and we eat at places where we can dine alfresco. Even though it seems bleak right now I am hoping that as much as it is part of the human condition to self-sabotage, it is also very much part of the human condition to continually make new positive leaps and discoveries. Maybe it is too difficult to survive if we have to imagine the alternative scenario.

coping with loneliness

Since as far as I can remember I have been feeling lonely. I was so lonely that for long periods of my life it was tempting to believe I was an alien abandoned and forgotten by her mothership. This sense of loneliness – that I was all alone in this world with nothing for me to relate to – plagued me my entire life even till now, and it probably contributed to my chronic suicide ideation and depression. For many people, the worthiness and meaning of their life is not something they even need to think about, because their reasons and desire to live are so obvious to them.

For me, it is a life long search.

I am not sure if there is something neurologically broken in me, or multiple experiences in my early childhood left such a deep imprint in me that all the love I can have now doesn’t seem enough to mend this deep gaping hole. You would think that having a partner who loves me like her entire world would make this go away – which it did, some of it – but even when I am safely tucked in her arms the profound sadness exists. It makes me feel like I am such an ungrateful person, to have so much and yet feel so lacking, which makes me feel even worse.

It doesn’t help that I have been pursuing a non-mainstream way of life. There are two contradicting parts of me: one part wants to feel accepted and approved of, the other part of me feels that it is of utmost importance to carve out a life which is of one’s own. I didn’t realise it earlier, but now I see that one of the persons who makes me feel the most unsafe is myself, because I force-drag myself to unchartered territories all the time and make myself embark on risky experiments. I am not one of those people who thrives living life on the edge. I am pulled almost hypnotically to the edge, but it makes me stressed and anxious. (This phenomenon can probably be explained well by the Internal Family Systems model or the inner child model, conscious/unconscious etc, depending which metaphor one prefers.) I live a very boring life now, because I am so tired of everything I put myself through.


Since this sense of loneliness can cause me to feel profound sadness, there are plenty of times when I feel like I want to give up doing the things I do. Like stop writing this blog. Stop publishing on social media. Psychotherapists would probably find my behaviour common and expected due to my history: I would rather abandon than to feel abandoned. Sometimes I feel no one ever reads this, so why should I keep on writing?

I think the human psyche is made to crave feedback. I mean, without this sensitivity to feedback human beings would be wiped out by now. Intellectually I think it is more important to do the things I feel are important even if I don’t get feedback, but emotionally I crave for the feedback, just like any other human being. I know of many people who are brilliant writers or artists but they would rather not publish or make anything than to open themselves up to feedback. Then there are other people out there who create things based only on the crowd’s feedback, and it shows in their work, for better or for worse.

I think life is very short. Every day now I am reminded of this. I consider myself again split: one part of me is severely ambivalent to the value of life, the other part of me does not want to waste it. I think it is shortchanging ourselves if we stop doing the work we are called to do or want to do because we don’t get the feedback we crave for. I hate to bring up the cliche here, but even Van Gogh died a sad, lonely, angry man because no one cared about his art, but we all know now how much less this world would be if he stopped painting because of the feedback he didn’t get. Most of us are definitely not Van Goghs, but it doesn’t mean that one’s work must be universally recognised in order to be meaningful. Maybe all it does is to allow ourselves to express just one tiny part of ourselves in the most authentic manner we can muster. Isn’t that meaningful enough? To get to know ourselves?


In a way, because of my wide ever-changing interests, I will never really have a stable audience. One moment I am writing about chronic depression, the next I am writing about interactive experiments, and then before you know it I am writing about bicycles and cameras. Who knows what’s next? Existential philosophy?

It is the same for my instagram account. It is like rojak (a type of fruit salad, in Singapore we also use it to describe something that is wildly mixed). Now that I’m posting street photography I was wondering if I should keep that and my personal pictures separate. But I want to be a whole person, just like this website which went from one website to like five before I merged everything together again. Society likes to split things up and make everything its own tiny category with gatekeeping, my own psyche is split up by different entities wanting different versions of me, I am frenzied and flustered because different parts of me want different things.

I want to be whole and integrated. I don’t want to have five websites and five instagram accounts. Maybe I feel lonely because I can never seem to feel like all of me can belong together. There are parts of me I feel self-conscious about, like they shouldn’t exist. I judge myself before anyone else.

Putting parts of myself online is a part of my healing process. I told published that I was gay on a geocities website when I was 15. Everything that I could not tell to a real person, I wrote them online. Modern social media can make people feel extremely lonely, but it was the traditional blog that made me feel that pieces of myself can exist somewhere.

People often tell me that I am brave for writing so vulnerably online. The truth is if I didn’t I am not sure if I would still be alive now. It has made me less lonely and more lonely at the same time, because through this medium I have found strangers who resonate, yet people who know me in real life may start to relate to me differently once they get a glimpse of my inner reality.


So for me it is a practice and commitment. To make the choice to be whole, again and again. I continue to write and publish my photos regularly, less so because I want the attention or feedback (the attention and feedback is still nice nonetheless), more so because I need to see pieces of myself somewhere. If not, I’m not sure where I’ll be repressing them, unconsciously ashamed of pieces of myself.

This is how I feel less lonely, to learn how to be at ease with myself. To go against the mainstream tide of splitting ourselves up, to warm up to that uncomfortable sense of loneliness that comes up everytime I put something online. Maybe this is a pervasive feeling that stemmed from all those times parts of me felt rejected and abandoned when I tried to express myself when I was young.


Once in a while, somebody leaves a comment on this blog or on social media. Half the time they are strangers. Some are colleagues or friends I haven’t seen in years, decades even. These comments warm me profoundly, in the opposite direction of my sadness. These are comments people would probably never say to me in person. The anonymity and distance of the internet has made plenty of people say nasty things they would never have the courage to say in person, but it has also allowed people communicate at a level of psychological intimacy that would rarely exist in physical reality.

Whoever you are out there, thank you for making my existence a less lonely one.

the value of a seemingly ordinary moment

I happened to chance upon a quote in the movie, “Up”:

“Sometimes, you will never know the value of a moment.
Until it becomes a memory”.

It coincides with what’s on my mind in these recent times as I cope with illness, ageing, people I care about ageing, climate change, covid. My journal app regularly serves me memories of the past, and almost everyday I see old photos of before. Before – when walk through crowds and eat indoors without fearing for your life, when we did not wonder if that was the last time we’ll ever get to see our friends living in other countries again. What of now will be the “before”, in our future?

The other day I visited a neighbourhood I grew up in, and I was excitedly telling my partner what a rare huge open air carpark it still has. Only to find out that they are probably demolishing it soon, replacing it with a multi-storey carpark. I get that land is scarce here so we don’t have a choice, but I cannot help but feel a sense of loss over the remaining open spaces. Is this what our parents and grandparents felt when they were “encouraged” to move out of their kampungs and into high-rise apartments?

Over the past couple of weeks I went around taking pictures in older neighbourhoods. I felt the pre-emptive grief as I took in the nostalgia and beauty.

Chinatown Complex / instagram

I submitted to a local street photography community for feedback, and the couple of feedback I received was that the subject was not big enough, the background was too distracting, the photo should be in black and white, the subject is not interesting enough, that if I had to explain it then it is not good enough, etc.

the photo I submitted

It was a very interesting internal experience for me. I didn’t agree with the feedback, and I worried that I was being too defensive. But I thought about it for an entire day, and I realised that while I may agree that the composition or crop or colour editing could be better, I really felt deeply that the particular photo was beautiful, at least to me. I love the blue skies, the arching tree, the unexpected pastel beauty of the neighbourhood, the gravitas of the person.

I realised in that moment that with regards to my photography, or to any creative output really, the philosophy is the same as my writing:

I submitted the photo in the first place because I am new to photography and was curious about people’s perspectives, yet I learnt from that experience that I don’t want to necessarily get better in the classical sense, I just want to take pictures as me. To share the beauty I see through my eyes. I cannot make people agree that everything I see is beautiful, but I can honour my own creative vision, no matter how obscure (if you’re reading this post, thank you for appreciating my equally obscure writing). I also do not want to argue with people over the definition of street photography. I just like taking photos and want to continue taking them in a free, joyous, lighthearted manner.

Upon deeper introspection, I also realised that I have an unconscious desire to document things that seem ordinary. To me, clear blue skies are a luxury that we should really enjoy and appreciate now. People walking around freely even with masks is something that is precious (think about what is happening elsewhere in conflict-ridden zones). Shops that are essentially an outward expression of the shopowner’s personality are so hauntingly beautiful. People, seemingly ordinary people – people who carry a lifetime of memories, experiences, trauma, happiness, this is the invisible yet tangible energy we see and sense with the way they carry themselves. If we’re lucky enough, we could capture that in a photo.

I am developing a respect for the way people are going about doing their things/jobs/chores despite the harshness of this world. I am starting to find people beautiful (albeit from a distance).

Five guys / instagram
Changi village / instagram

There is a commonality in both of the things I love to do these days: cycling and photography. They both take me out of my regular autopilot semi-zombie mode, expanding the opportunities for me to notice the depth and width of the world. I just want to hold on to every ordinary moment I can possess, for as long as I can, before everything only exist in memories.

getting to know myself through a camera

It all started when my partner wanted to acquire a camera because she wanted better pictures for her art. I thought she was being picky, and that her iphone took pictures fine. She kept telling me that her iphone (SE) has a wide angle lens, and that makes her art look distorted. I couldn’t see the distortion, and I still can’t.

I did some research for her – we looked at youtube videos together on different types of cameras and sensors, and eventually settled on a basic Panasonic micro four-thirds (m43) camera with interchangeable lenses. Prior to this I had no idea what is APSC or m43 or what does a mirrorless camera even mean. I have been happy taking pictures with my iphone ever since I’ve gotten my first, and they say the best camera is the one with you. I dislike weight, and I could not imagine carrying a camera around. I do take a lot of photos, but that’s because I am obsessed about documenting my life, and capturing memories.

(Yes, I spent over 20 years as a professional designer but I work with text, colours and shapes, I place photos as part of my work, but I have never been into the actual photos themselves.)

My partner likes tight crops and the bokeh effect, so we had to look for another lens on top of the kit lens. I am embarrassed to admit: I had no idea what is the f-stop, neither did I know why it affects the depth of field. But I picked it up along with the research process of buying a new lens. Our new 7artisans 35mm (70mm equivalent) f1.4 manual focus lens arrived, and it was while tinkering with it that I first sensed the gradual widening of my curiosity. This was one of my first photos I took with that lens:

photo of @launshae / instagram / 70mm equivalent f1.4

So it is quite funny: my partner wanted a camera to get better photos, I made fun of her for being picky, and it turns out I became the obsessed one. I discovered the world of prime lenses, zone focusing, exposure metering, sensor dusts, etc. When my partner first introduced the concept of a prime lens to me I was thoroughly confused – why limit yourself to one focal length when you can have zoom? (It is interesting why I felt confused because the iphone had a fixed focal length for a very long while, discounting the digital zoom.)

Thanks to youtube and multiple blog posts, I learnt why people use prime lenses, but my personal favourite reason is the creative constraints that come with it. Instead of thinking whether a subject is better zoomed in or not, we let our body and intuition do the work. It restricts the spectrum of pictures we can take on one walk, but that restriction forces us to be more creative with the possibilities and potential of the frame. (I was astounded that people are willing to pay $7k SGD for a Leica Q2 that has a fixed 28mm lens.)

My partner asked me which focal length is my favourite, and what type of photos do I see myself taking. I was really glad to tell her I do not know. I like being part of a mystery that is still in the process of being uncovered.

instagram / 28mm equiv. f2.5
instagram / 28mm equiv. f2.5

What makes a photograph? What makes a good one? Of everything that we can capture, what makes us capture that particular frame? I think we can tell a lot about a person by observing the photos they choose to take, and I am constantly in the process of discovering who I am with the photos I am taking.

instagram / 40mm equiv f1.7

I don’t know whether my photos are any good in an objective sense, but I do feel like I’m looking into a rorschach test of myself. Every photo has reasons why I think they are interesting, beautiful or meaningful, but I can’t articulate them with words. It is a sensation I feel in myself when I look at them.

I have been publishing words online for multiple decades, and the written word has been such a huge part of my personal expression. Using a camera not as a documentation tool but as a medium to express myself feels strangely foreign and yet enlivening. I go through phases so I am not sure how long this phase is going to last but that does that really matter as long as every journey I go through brings me closer to knowing who I am?

on living in a long goodbye

So I did not suffer any significant side effects from the second dose of the pfizer vaccine apart from a sore arm, but five days post vaccine I did have a bad migraine. This coincides with my PMS, so I think the stress from the vaccine exacerbated my PMS symptoms. This morning (11 days post-vaccination) I went for a slow morning walk and I felt slightly short of breath and my heart rate was slightly higher than usual, so I am going to try building up my cardio fitness slowly again.

I did not meditate at all (why is it so hard), but I did bring out the camera for practice. It is interesting how my awareness and perception changed when I am intentionally looking to take a picture, even though the environment is the same. I started to notice things I didn’t before. Photography, like cooking and cycling for me, is a meditative activity, because it forces my brain out of its habitual patterns. I couldn’t help but compare it the process of photography to life itself: perhaps instead of waiting for beauty and interestingness to arrive and sweep us off our feet, we can instead learn to develop the capacity to notice the beauty and interestingness that is already around us.


I still have difficulty doing things I used to love, like reading and writing. I still think it is related to the ongoing chronic pandemic. We need time away from things, even if it is things we love. Time is needed for ideas to accumulate and stew. We also need different types of stimuli, situations that would provoke us in different ways. But day after day I am like Sisyphus performing almost the same routine, and the things I loved to do no longer felt like a much needed respite from my daily life when they now have become the only things I can do. Like the air that is stagnant when it doesn’t move.

I am aware of how lucky I am to be safe, so I am not complaining, just writing it out as matter of fact. I am also aware how much denial is in action when the world is very slowly melting down because covid, climate change and feeling the effects of terribly designed societies – but I still try to find peace and beauty in the mundane of my life. It feels wrong to try to not suffer when other people do not have that choice, and it also feels wrong to walk around trying to take pictures when there is so much suffering. But if it is all going to end badly anyway, I would like to fill up my life with more moments of not-suffering. All my life I have been suicidal because life just felt like nothing but suffering to me, and it is only the recent years that I have begun to experience otherwise. I will need these moments of not-suffering to tide me through when shit really hits the fan.

I feel like I am living a long goodbye: to the elderly people in my life, to my youth, to the world as we know it. Every day I live the dissonance of knowing things are very wrong, and yet I am in my Sisyphian bubble of my little daily routines. There are waves of grief but I try not to let them distract me from being present, of trying to still cherish everything that still exists before they are gone.

When this whole virus situation started it felt depressing that it was going to last more than a year. Now I just don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It is going to take years, if at all. We just cannot sit still enough to solve problems, and we are terrible at delayed gratification. It is not that the virus or climate change is unsolvable. It is our deep-rooted psychology that is unsolvable.

I don’t really get too sad when terrible things happen anymore. I used to feel really affected by any devastating event, even if they happened at the other side of the world. I felt sad because these events felt like they were against the natural course of events, but now I feel like apart from entirely preventable or unlucky accidents, everything else that is happening is only an inevitable outcome of our psychology.

We as human beings, have never really figured out to love and cherish ourselves. Enough to let go of all the shiny things that prop us up artificially but do not truly matter. We want to feel safe at all costs, at the expense of working towards true safety, because it is just too difficult to tolerate discomfort.

plans for post-vaccination recovery

I am getting my second pfizer dose later this afternoon, and I am not looking forward to the side effects – fingers crossed that it wouldn’t be worse than some fever and chills. I’ve been reading people’s accounts on their abnormal heart palpitations post vaccination, and it is not helping my already-existing anxiety. But all of that seems better than the chance of getting long haul covid. I am not sure how am I going to go through life with brain fog, loss of smell and taste, 100+ bpm heart rate and unending fatigue. Maybe I’ll take the small chance of temporary heart inflammation over those symptoms.

The government is now advising people to stay off strenuous exercise for a week, though I wonder if exercising on day eight is really safer than day seven. Since I am much more paranoid than the average person, I’ll probably not exercise for at least ten days. I’ll definitely be monitoring my resting heart rate and heart rate variability during sleep to help me determine whether my body has recovered from vaccination stress. I am glad to have such tools at this point of time.

Since I’ve been incrementally trying to build my fitness, I was somewhat disappointed that I have to break my journey at this point – would probably have to rebuild my cardio fitness all over again when this is over. But I thought I could use the opportunity to work on other stuff instead, like meditation. Instead of spending an hour exercising I could split two thirty-minute meditation sessions instead. Meditating is so much harder than going for an one-hour jog. I’ll rather be huffing and puffing than facing boredom, which is precisely why I should meditate.

I have been progressively discovering the delight of simply slowing down. I think a lot of my unhappiness comes from wanting to complete things fast, or expecting things to happen the way I want. It would do me so much more good to simply be able to pause, or to build the capacity to dissolve preexisting expectations through calm logic. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I can stop chasing distractions that are helping me to escape from some ambiguous existential anxiety?


My partner acquired a micro four-thirds camera, and my curiousity got piqued while helping her research. I didn’t even know what “micro four-thirds” meant. I have always believed I would rather use the camera with me – my phone – than to carry a separate camera. But I have been slowly changing without even being aware of it myself. Preferring to take pictures with my phone: that is a symptom of wanting everything to be fast and easy. That in itself is not wrong per se, but it could reduce the spectrum of things we can potentially experience when time slows down. I took her camera out while cycling a couple of days ago, and I found it interesting how I was looking out more for interesting moments versus the autopilot mode I was on typically when cycling. It was a hassle to take out the camera, undo the lens cap, turn it on and figure out the right settings to take a picture. With my phone it is just phone, frame, snap. But I am starting to like that pause, that extra step, that additional time frame.

I discovered I am really not good at taking pictures. I’ve always taken okay looking pictures purely on visual intuition and I never really bothered to learn how to take better ones. With an actual camera there is so much more to tinker, to see what affects the shot even with the same frame (yes I am aware of halide on the phone but it is not the same). Will I have the patience to learn from ground up? I don’t know?

I also have a bicycle mechanic class coming up in October. I half wonder if I would regret it, because it is an intensive six full-day course split across two weekends. Would it feel like too much work?

My entire life I have been afraid of too much work, because all I do is burn out when things get overwhelming. It is an interesting experience for me to start learning things on my own terms, just simply out of pure curiousity versus necessity. The last time I truly enjoyed learning something was making a website at age 15, but that turned into work.


I guess I can use all that vaccination recovery time to learn things that are not physically strenuous, like how to use a camera and edit its pictures properly (the iphone and its photo editing apps have handicapped me). I just have to be careful not to burn my brain out which I have done countless times before. Hopefully I am better at regulating myself this time around.

nostalgia, music, time and worth

Listening to music had always been a big part of my life. No, not classical music, but emo soppy mandarin/cantonese pop with some american/british pop (I was crazy over Take That) mixed in. I won’t pretend to have discerning music tastes – I don’t. I really enjoy listening to songs that sing of enduring heartbreak and unending yearning.

I feel lucky to have been born in the 80s’, because I spent a huge part of my formative years in analog. Life is so noisy and instantaneous these days that it is easy to forget once upon a time, it was not considered rude to not answer phone calls, because there was only one house phone shared among the entire household. There were no text messages awaiting for response, no caller ID (it was considered a luxurious expense because you have to pay both the subscription and the expensive phone), no notifications from ten different social networks. Every time I feel bad about living like an antisocial hermit now I think about my life in the 80s – everyone was almost a hermit, you have to go out of your way to hang out with friends, they were not just a click away.

I spent a lot of time reading and listening to music, because there was nothing else to do. My families (plural because I grew up in two separate households) liked watching TVB dramas and their music variety programs. I grew up on a diet of Anita Mui, Leslie Cheung, Danny Chan, and later on when I developed my own tastes I was obsessed with Faye Wong. My commute to school was about an hour, so music accompanied me during those long lonely rides.

We bought albums on cassette tapes, and making a mixtape was a lot of rewinding and forwarding to get to the right track, and having to manually press “record” when the original tape was playing. I guess I was lucky to have a player that had a double cassette deck (another luxury) for recording mixtapes. They sold empty tapes in 90 minute versions, which could hold up to 10 songs on each side. Yes, we had to manually flip the cassette after one side is done.

Compact discs arrived and I blew most of my pocket money on buying CDs, starving the rest of the month. Back then we had to spend $20 (SGD) on an album and hope that it was good (it usually wasn’t, only a track or two). Making mixtapes with cassette tapes became easier because we no longer had to guesstimate the rewinds to find where tracks start.

Imagine going from that to burning music on CD-Rs – we could listen to our favourite track on repeat forever. I remember saving up to buy a discman that had an anti-skip feature – because music would skip due to the lens having trouble reading the disc if it couldn’t stay in place.

Needless to say, the invention of mp3s was like music heaven, even though 5mb files took an hour to download on a 56.6k connection. I remember feeling really abundant having a 5GB hard drive.

That’s why I feel lucky being born in the 80s. I have huge swaths of memories of living in analog, yet I also experienced the magic of the dramatic leaps in technology. Once in a while I still catch myself marvelling at all things that magically happen with a click. I get tired of notifications and the sense of being forced to be available online, but I still get thrills out of sending texts to my friends thousands of miles away, and seeing them reply in real time.


Somehow along the way in the past few years, I stopped listening to my music. Part of the reason is I stay home a lot now, so there is less time to listen to music on commutes. I have also developed an attention deficit due to the magic/poison of the internet. Wanting to become more mindful, I stopped using music as a crutch during exercise. It now feels weird to slip on a pair of headphones and simply enjoy the music without doing anything else – something I used to do for hours a day.

But it was so much of my life. It comforted me all those times I was sad, depressed, suicidal, heartbroken, pining, lonely, confused, fatigued, bored. It is like a time machine: listening to certain tracks is like an instant jump to that moment in time, and all the associated emotions come flooding back to me. Maybe for some people that is not a good thing, but for me possibly because of anhedonia the provocation of the music allows me access more dimensions of my dormant inner world.

Music has discernible effects on our brain, so I am not surprised that it soothes, comforts and enlivens me. I am just surprised I forgot how much I enjoy listening to it.

So I started making my own mixtapes again, an activity that is actually enjoyable on its own. It is amazing the expanse of songs available on spotify, how easy it is to search and add to a playlist (I know I sound like an old person but I guess I am pretty old as a person). Spotify has a pretty robust recommendation engine so I discovered tracks I had long forgotten, tracks that were familiar in my childhood but I didn’t know the titles of, tracks that have gone out of print and is impossible to buy now. But Spotify doesn’t have everything, so I dug out my old backups and it made me so relieved that quite a few obscure songs that don’t exist on Spotify or iTunes were preserved in at least 128kbps quality. I felt so full to listen to them again.

I bought a pair of Sennheisers and stopped being an exercise snob: I now listen to my soppy emo music when I take walks – both indoors and outdoors. Rediscovering the dimensional experience of listening to music and the nostalgia that comes with it is making me reevaluate again my tendency for doing things that have quick feedback or short sittings.


It seems so easy to get swept up in a world full of changes, and forget what used to be meaningful or fun when things were at a much slower pace. We try to save time by choosing to do things that are available quickly, but some people including myself have observed the phenomenon that the act of trying to save time ironically makes time seem to pass faster.

There is also a perceived assigned value on what seems to be worth doing. Working for a job or business is worth doing, fervently packing our brains with new knowledge is worth doing, hanging out with friends is worth doing. But what about developing the capacity to be calm and peaceful, spending time to cook a creative dish to nourish our bodies, letting our tired brains take a break from all the stimuli we subject them to, being able to feel full while alone?

I find myself judging myself a lot when I don’t seem to be doing anything “productive”. You would think after six years on this journey I would be better at dealing with this sort of chronic ambient judgment. It affects my daily morale when I end the day feeling like I “wasted” my time. But did I really? Sometimes I think the intelligence of our brains can be quite primitive and we have to teach it consciously to recognise new values and meanings, or it will just keep falling back to the old ones.

Being able to feel a lot less anxious is a huge deal to me, but the lack of anxiety is not something noticeable compared to when we are full of anxiety. Every now and then I have to remind myself to take a deep breath, remember how I used to be, and accurately assess where I am now.

In society’s eyes I am not an productive person, but when I look at myself I see a person growing more capable of appreciating and feeling the fullness that can be derived from everyday life instead of the constant seeking and chasing I used to do. Is my life worth less now because I am less “productive”? Is it good to be “productive” in exchange for the potential of doing more harm? What makes a life valuable?

I like having small, light and less footprints wherever I go.


note: along with this line of thought I have been trying to do things that take up more time, like taking the effort to make the drawings that accompanied this post, writing this post in two sittings instead of always trying to finish it asap. Like in my previous post I think I have to recondition my brain to enjoy effort (instead of associating it with negative feelings) and the slow passage of time. Also, this post is not something I expect people would want to read, but I really want to practice doing things that are more me.

on cooking, nutrition & effort

I started cooking again. This is in line with my attempt to be fitter, and partially because I am semi-following a private migraine group’s protocol on migraine prevention by balancing the potassium and sodium ratio in my diet. “Semi” following because I am not strict about it, but it is interesting to become aware of the micro-nutrients I am eating.

I actually knew about the protocol a long while ago, but it was just too much effort. It requires religious logging of food in Cronometer – if anyone has tried logging their food before they will know how much work it is. It is also impossible to properly log food if you eat a lot of food outside because there is no way to know what they put in their sauces and the actual weightage of their ingredients.

I am learning a lot about micro-nutrients in an attempt to understand how we create energy in the body, and why it can be chronically disrupted. Recent research is hypothesising that migraines could be an outcome of oxidative stress and energy metabolism, which is closely related to the functioning of mitochondria and the ATP cycle. My own migraines are triggered by stress and hormones, so I am keen to understand how everything connects. There are so many questions. Why is the fluctuating of estrogen so closely related to stress resilience? Why is the menstrual cycle so stressful on the body? Is there any preventative measures I can take to mitigate this stress?

Do you know that thiamine (Vitamin B1) is an essential cofactor in the production of cellular energy? Without thiamine we would literally be starved of energy. But my cronometer logs told me that unless I start eating a lot of beans or liver, it is practically impossible to eat the daily recommended amount of thiamine in my diet. Is that why I’m always burnt out because there is just not enough energy for my cellular needs?

I’ve also realised how difficult it is to plan a meal that is nutritionally balanced. Thiamine is just one piece of the puzzle. To eat enough of all the essential vitamins and minerals daily is like a creative food challenge. How have I been living my life? Magnesium is another mineral that is heavily required by the body, especially for women. My research tells me that it is recommended to eat 400mg of magnesium every day. I never really took it seriously until this year. I took like 100mg and thought it was enough. This is why it is important to understand the why:

The important interaction between phosphate and magnesium ions makes magnesium essential to the basic nucleic acid chemistry of all cells of all known living organisms. More than 300 enzymes require magnesium ions for their catalytic action, including all enzymes using or synthesizing ATP and those that use other nucleotides to synthesize DNA and RNA. The ATP molecule is normally found in a chelate with a magnesium ion.

Wikipedia

How do we fulfil 400mg of daily magnesium requirements purely through food?


There were so many other things I’ve learned about food and cooking. For example, vegetable oil is quite harmful to our bodies. But the bulk of food if we eat out is cooked in (repeatedly used) vegetable oil, simply because it is the most cost effective. I tried to ignore the information for a while, because I have a food addiction. But how do I bear the dissonance of having terrible health and yet ignoring what I know about the potential oxidative stress caused by food and cooking methods?

So I am cooking again. My partner offered to take the dinner shift while I take the brunch shift (we only eat 2 meals a day because I try to intermittent fast 16 hours to improve insulin sensitivity) so it makes it more manageable, and I really enjoy the effect of discovering what my partner would cook. I took out my instant pot because I’m trying to avoid high heat cooking (again, oxidative stress). This time I am trying out recipes instead of just making it up myself. I used to avoid recipes if they involve too many steps, but now I’m trying them anyway.

I feel like humans have a lot of pre-conceptions, and sometimes these pre-conceptions are of our selves. I thought I didn’t like doing things that take too much effort, but somehow I am slowly learning that I do enjoy the slow meditative pace of multi-step cooking. With the instant pot, lack of experience impacts the food negatively especially if we are not following recipes. Some food taste better with prolonged cooking time, some food takes less than five minutes or it will chew like rubber. I now know how to sear food without it burning the pan. I learnt to properly cut an avocado. I am now so pleased every time I cut one.

my partner‘s artist impression of me cooking in the kitchen

Sometimes I feel like a new human learning how to crawl again. I have to get to know myself instead of just making assumptions on myself. I never knew I would love cycling or running. I thought I would never enjoy my own cooked food more than the food I buy.

The truth is, I don’t really know who I am, what I like and dislike, half the time. So much of me I thought was me, was simply conditioning and/or a reaction to the input I was given. I thought I didn’t like things that take effort, but that’s simply because the system I grew up in demands effort out of me in things that were not meaningful to me. I grew up associating effort with dread and fatigue.

But effort in things which are meaningful to us, can be life-giving and actually enjoyable.

the will to be truly alive

Every morning at the park I see people of all types doing their morning exercise. People exercise for different reasons. Vanity is of course a strong motivator, some people do it because they went through health scares, others do it because it allows them to socialise in a group, some do it because luckily for them exercise makes them feel better. I started doing it because I didn’t want my brain to shrink:

“…conversely, exercise unleashes a cascade of neurochemicals and growth factors that can reverse this process, physically bolstering the brain’s infrastructure. In fact, the brain responds like muscles do, growing with use, withering with inactivity. The neurons in the brain connect to one another through “leaves” on treelike branches, and exercise causes those branches to grow and bloom with new buds, thus enhancing brain function at a fundamental level.”

Source: Spark | link

Regardless of the actual reason, exercise is something that one only does if they care enough about themselves, and if their brains are neurochemically balanced enough to flip that switch to actually do something. Unlike the mainstream narrative, one cannot actually will themselves to make choices if their brains are neurologically deficient. Motivation is regulated by the neurotransmitter dopamine, and one can be severely deficient in dopamine due to genetics and stress. The world would be a much more compassionate and liveable place if people truly understand this.

I guess I was born with a dopamine deficient brain, because I don’t feel the typical pleasures of living life. It takes a lot to get me excited about something, which is why I was always addicted to extremity and seeking highs (not drug highs, but career/relationship highs). It is only recently that I associated this with my sugar addiction, because sugar dramatically increases dopamine – it has the same neurological pathways as opoids.

(I asked my partner yesterday if she would be tempted to eat a plate of freshly baked cookies if she was not hungry, turns out she wouldn’t because she doesn’t like sweet stuff. ALL MY LIFE I thought everyone wouldn’t be able to resist freshly baked cookies!)


Modern research is pointing towards evidence that chronic disorders like depression may be closely tied to metabolic and stress-related disorders, and can be successfully managed or treated with the right interventions like exercise, diet, therapy, drugs etc.

But here is the conundrum. Things like exercise and diet requires effort and consistency. But how do we get a dopamine-deficient fatigued, depressed brain to will themselves into not only taking action, but showing up day after day when it is simply much easier to do nothing? Maybe using the concept of easiness is incorrect, people who suffer from chronic disorders are not even biologically capable to do anything, they just can’t. You just have to go to the hundreds of message boards / online communities out there for such people to see how much they hate themselves and how much grief and anger they feel because they cannot do anything.

That is why it is so hurtful and damaging when people tell them to just think positive, or be less lazy. Associating positive behaviour to one’s character or one’s “strength” is one of the most harmful narratives we have on earth. The brain controls everything, to deny that is to deny science, to deny all the years of evolution that made the brain what it is today.


I have no answers to my own question, on how people can motivate themselves into doing things that require more effort they can muster when they are incapable of doing so. Apart from neurological reasons, there are also psychological reasons. Some people desire to be alive, even if they are chronically sick. Wanting to be alive, to have a firm belief in the concept of life, is a strong motivator. Some others want to be alive because they cannot imagine abandoning their loved ones. There are some who wish to fulfil some purpose in their lives.

I wrote in a previous post that a personal myth is important to surviving and thriving. Our brains evolved to be motivated by rewards, so if there are no visible rewards it is difficult to make yourself do anything. Our brains need a reason to not only keep on living, but to be alive enough in order to thrive. When we receive enough (but not too much) dopamine hits due to the perceived reward, we thrive. We feel alert, confident and euphoric (that’s why people like to take drugs or in my case, sugar/caffeine).

For story-less people (or people who are going through an existential crisis because they lost their personal myth or original purpose) like me, there may be no visible rewards. Since my brain is dopamine-deficient at its baseline, there could be actual rewarding factors in my life but I find it difficult to feel and connect to it.

(The aliveness loop also demonstrates that if our actions doesn’t generate visible rewards/progress, we may stop feeling motivated. Therefore designing routines/environments with reward/progress cues in mind are important. The perceived reward also cannot be perceived to be less than the perceived effort.)

In the past year or so I found myself in a slump. It is probably related to Covid, because my dopamine-deficient brain seeks novelty, and being in a perpetual lockdown has severely limited that. It did teach me to be more self-sufficient, to co-exist with my inner world which used to make me feel low key miserable all the time because it was spouting a lot of repetitive negativity into my mind.

But now I have found myself in an emotionally neutral yet numbish state. I no longer looked forward to writing or working on this website, I ate more and more carbs as I was tired of restricting myself all the time, I stopped reading as much, stopped cooking – pretty much stopped everything because I didn’t feel like doing anything. I also exercised a lot less after I fell ill a few times. No dopamine, no doing.

It is a weird state for me to be in, because I was used to feeling sad all the time but I was no longer sad, but I was just somewhat not alive. As of now I am not sure if I no longer looked forward to all the things I used to like doing because maybe my emotional changes I went through changed me so much at a fundamental level that my preferences changed without myself knowing?

Maybe I used to like writing because it served as a catharsis, or that I subconsciously wanted to shape people’s opinions of me. But now these things are no longer important, neither is my self-image of being a creative person. Without a story everything dissipates, including activities that were so life-saving for the old me.

I got to a point when I just felt like in order to preserve my health I have to at least pretend to be interested. I have no idea whether I am nursing a severe dopamine deficit or a true existential change. But knowing how the brain works I know I need something to hang on to as my “visible reward”, even if I know it may not be true. It is literally fake it till I make it.


One day, I just got so disturbed at being slumpy that I literally said to myself, I am going to attempt to be alive again. So I again made fitness my goal. I have never been fit. I have always existed as a chronically tired and mildly unfit person. This is an old but on going challenge I never had the resolve to solve. I go on these long streaks, get tired of it, and then fall off the wagon. But I believe every cycle I get better at it, and I discover more sustainable ways instead of being so extreme.

Additionally and perhaps more importantly, I just want to treat my body better. Previously I had zero will to even live, so letting my body deteriorate was a subconscious extension of that. Also I didn’t know enough about neuroscience and metabolism. Now that I’ve read so much scientific research, I have to be very wilful to consciously ignore that each time I eat that glucose-laden meal I am damaging my body.

For me, it is philosophically acceptable to rebel against life by letting oneself slowly disintegrate, but I think it is difficult to do it without harming anyone else unless one is a true hermit. I live with my partner, so at the very least I should not let my poor health affect her negatively. If I cannot regulate my stress response (due to poor diet etc), it will inevitably impact her.

Maybe my saving grace would be my curiousity. I am curious to know what it feels like to be fit. Not just physically fit, but fit in terms of as many biological markers I can find. Am I skeptical about life because of my neurologically deficient brain – that I truly cannot physically feel the wonders of living – or is this my true metaphysical stance? Can we truly separate how our brains work and our thoughts? How much are our thoughts and beliefs influenced by our range of perceptions and senses? Is the will to be alive simply a matter of achieving true biological homeostasis?

At the end of this post, I guess I feel grateful for the fact that I still have questions. The day I become question-less, I’ll be truly worried about my will to live.

the proposal

Last week, in the midst of celebrating our 61th month anniversary I went to the bathroom. Our song, “The Luckiest” by Ben Folds started playing, and when I came out of the bathroom she started dancing with me. This is not out of the normal because we often do weird things like dance with each other in the middle of the day with no apparent reason, but I noticed a wrapped package on the sofa.

A couple of months ago she asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I said I wanted a surprise. Since then she has been gifting me multiple surprises, so another wrapped package was also not out of the ordinary. But this time, the package contained:

How can I begin to describe the layers of these images? Within, there is a pair of rings, a ring holder, and a card. She crocheted the ring holder as a my favourite cake the strawberry shortcake, ordered the handcrafted wooden rings off etsy, and drew the card depicting one of our favourite activities together – having afternoon tea. The photos are staged and taken by her.

Our life is so intertwined with her nature as an artist. The art is part of the act. The act is the art. I cannot help but admire the art while I am part of the ongoing act.

She asked if I would marry her – she doesn’t have a serious demeanour for almost anything except when in the process of doing her art, so in that moment it was difficult for me to take her seriously. It felt as though we were like two kids playacting as grown ups. But her intention was evident in the way everything was put together so thoughtfully.

I didn’t exclaim a loud yes!, I let her put on the ring on my ring finger without a word, like an emotionally constipated Asian person.


We cannot get legally married here in Singapore, where it actually matters. Our country will not recognise our marriage even if we got married elsewhere. So what is the point?

I think the fact that we cannot get married legally here in Singapore sort of acted like a shield for both of our commitment phobia. Since we cannot get married, there is no need to talk or think about it. It is easy to say, oh if marriage became legal tomorrow, we’ll get married – but will we?

In many ways we are practically married. We own a house together, we plan our future and financial decisions together. We are probably a lot more married than many legally married couples, especially when it comes to the depth of our emotional and psychological bond. But it is one thing to say that we’re practically married and other thing to be actually married.

For me, the symbolism matters. Yes for now we cannot get married here, and I’m highly skeptical that it’ll ever be legal in our lifetimes. But there is a huge gap between a legal marriage and a dating relationship. We’ll probably get married overseas once we can, and at the very least it is not on us if our government (and some groups of people) remains discriminatory towards us. That is on them, that they are holding on to their archaic views.

We can only demonstrate we have done everything in our power to take our couplehood seriously. If the government is not willing to recognise our status, we should recognise it ourselves. Our marriage will at least be recognised in the laws of other countries. Should we one day decide to pursue immigration to these countries (we won’t for now, because we’re attached to our families here, but one day when it is just us who knows), she will be seen as my legal spouse. To me, that is better than simply resigning to the status quo passively.


Today while exercising, I started wondering if she would be able to collect my body for a funeral should anything happen to me. If I lay dying in a isolated ward, would they call her for our last words even if she’s not my next-of-kin?

It seems like an injustice that my supposed next-of-kin would not be the person actually closest to me. The only person who is truly with me through all my ups and downs, who have seen the best and worst of me, who validated my concerns and took actual steps to address them, who has loved me fiercely and steadily for years – this person in the eyes of the law, would just be a mere acquaintance.

When people say marriage is just a piece of paper, do they know what it is like that the law would rather recognise a relative that you meet once a year as your next-of-kin than the person you love the most in your life?