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Sunday, 31 October 2021

My virgin experience in crypto/NFT :)

I bought some Ether and minted my first NFT (non-fungible token) 19 days ago and since then I haven't been reading, or writing, or thinking about anything else except for the crypto and NFT markets. 

I've never seen myself as someone who would be into stocks or cryptocurrency, or any form of investment that requires me to constantly monitor the charts. I'm an infp. I need a lot, a lot, of time to unplug, and think about deep things; which is probably why my very first investment was property - something I won't have to think about again until many years later. 

The biggest investments to me have always been knowledge (books), experience (travel), and personal development (language, fitness, picking up new skills). So when I was nudged to think about financial investments two years ago, I decided to purchase Benjamin Graham's The Intelligent Investor. I studied it for a couple of weeks and did some research, and then shoved it aside. Really, all I did was invested 30 bucks in my knowledge on value investing.

I decided to dip my foot into NFTs simply because I thought it was fascinating, and refreshing. It is art. Art that is not kept in a museum and accessible only to the highest strata of society, but art that is stored on the Ethereum blockchain and accessible to (almost) anyone. But after I minted my first NFT, I came to learn about the NFT community, which brought my experience to a whole new level - yes, I'm a proud member of the Mad Rabbits Riot Club and Women & Weapons (among a couple of other awesome ones too)! In an NFT community, you connect with all sorts of people across the globe who share the same passion that you have for the project. It's perfect for my infp soul. Just the right amount of social interaction, as and when you wish, and with whom you're pleased.

My first NFT: Mad Rabbits Riot Club

Of course, in the last 19 days, there were moments when I felt the need to really unplug. Such as today, which I decided to set aside to reflect and write (although, ironically, about NFTs). But I guess I wanted to share about my excitement in finding this new hobby or form of investment that seems to fit nicely with my personality and energy. 

Mark Zuckerberg announced the rebranding of Facebook into Meta just two days ago. I'm excited to see what the world is going to be like in the next couple of years, with the gradual realisation of the metaverse and NFTs becoming blue chips. And I'm thankful that there's a place for us infps, artists, right-brainers in this increasingly digitalised world. 

I'm glad that we're still relevant. More relevant than ever.

My Women and Weapons NFT - a project I empathise with

Sunday, 10 October 2021

baby steps

for kester, thanks for never walking away

The overcast weather makes me think that maybe God cares about my dark and gloomy soul. 

I relapsed today, after doing well for so many weeks. I thought this was it, as I watched all my hard work and effort to get better go down the drain.

I woke up with my throat parched from the alcohol last night and my hunger intensifying with every passing minute. But I didn't get up. I laid in bed for the next five hours. It felt impossible to get up. 

But. I. eventually. did. 

I remembered that there was work tomorrow. I briefly considered taking the day off to rest but I really didn't want to. I knew I had to get my shit together before that. It's amusing that instead of being a stressor, work is always one of the things that drive me in life.

But more importantly, I remembered that only I can pull myself out of this shithole of a brain. Over the past two years, I placed so many expectations on my partner to make sure that I'm okay. But I've come to learn that it is completely unfair and pointless. Because when it comes to the brain, only you can and should help yourself. So, I willed myself out of my shithole. 

This morning, it felt like there was no way out but here I am now, just a couple of hours later, writing this with courage. I guess I would call this baby steps.

Remember. It's temporary. It is always temporary. Every cloud has a silver lining. And every storm will pass.

And we'll always be good.

Wednesday, 6 October 2021

perhaps we shouldn't take life so seriously?

I started journaling my mood some time ago, and I noticed that my best days are the days when I choose not to take life so seriously.

They are the days when I choose to be unproductive and that's okay.
They are the days when I let my phone buzz away, and am unbothered by it.
They are the days when I'm not multi-tasking.
They are the days when I pause to listen to the lyrics of my favourite songs.
They are the days when I'm filled with inspiration and the words flow effortlessly.
They are the days when I lie in bed with you, and listen to the sound of the rain.

I'm turning 27 in less than a month. Two more 27s and I may well be lying in my grave. So, instead of mulling over the past, being anxious about the future and feeling sad about things that are beyond my control, I might as well savour that cup of coffee in front of me and bask in the beauty of every passing moment while I can

Or perhaps, these are just the reflections of another privileged person, typing away in a cafe at the centre of Raffles Place.

Sunday, 5 September 2021

how we get there


 "Sometimes, I wonder if I will make it till forty," she said matter-of-factly, as she stared into the bleak evening sky. "It feels like it is a matter of time that I will succumb to the pain, the depression, and the darkness."

She pulled out her mood journal, which she had begun writing 96 days earlier. It was either 'sad' or 'meh' on most days, with the occasional 'contented' (usually when it was a windy day, when her 10a.m. coffee was perfectly brewed and no one yelled at her) or 'suicidal' (when thoughts of how the world would be better off without her intruded her mind).

She can't remember when she started becoming so acquainted with sadness, or how it even happened. It was like learning how to walk - no one teaches you how to do it; you just slowly get up on your feet and walk one day. 

She flipped to a page that said 'suicidal', and showed to it him. 29 Apr 2021. 'Walking was hard today. Had to hold railings to make it across the overhead bridge. Syncopated breathing. Thought I was going to die.'

She wasn't quite sure why she was showing it to him. Perhaps she wanted to caution him of her emotional baggage. Or perhaps it was a cry for help.

But he wasn't surprised. Neither did he seem too concerned.  

Instead, he took her tiny hands and wrapped it inside of his. "Don't worry about forty. Let's focus on today. And we will do the same for tomorrow, and the day after. That's how we get there."

Sunday, 25 July 2021

Choosing the responsible life

Two thousand and six.

That was the year when everything became apparent to me. The fact that life isn't as rosy as it seemed when I was a child. The fact that more often that not, people have bad intentions and hidden agendas. The fact that even though the world wars are long gone, people all around the world are fighting their own battles every day. 

-

I have my own battle scars too.

The scars on my wrist remind of a time when I was young and reckless, using physical pain to overpower the emotional pain and emptiness that I felt inside. The scars on my fingertips remind me of a time when I knew not how to remain calm in face of intense pressure and anxiety. The scar just above my left brow reminds me of a time when I thought I couldn't survive a night without getting intoxicated.

Those days are long gone. When you have a family of your own, there's no other responsible way to live but to flee from those battles. Selfish and irresponsible. That's what you are if you let those battles weigh you down. 

-

It started as a musing. At that age, depressive thoughts were romanticised; in books, film and music. 

And then, I found that I had a predisposition for melancholic tunes, sad endings and philosophical pessimism. I could spend hours ruminating about how fleeting life was, and wondering if there was even a point in living another day. I indulged in my depressive thoughts, a lot, and walked around with a dark cloud over my head. I didn't seem to find a problem with it, as I continued to fulfil my obligations as a good son, friend, and worker. 

Not until I fell in love and started a family of my own. 

It's funny how it never crossed my mind that I would ever have to bid farewell to my depressive thoughts. They had been a part of me for almost a decade. I wouldn't call it an addiction. Perhaps, a disposition; a way of life. And I guess I made the mistake of presuming that this is me; and to love me is to accept me for me.

When I first saw her tiny hands and legs, I knew that what my wife had been saying for the two years of marriage was true. We couldn't raise our kids in such a pessimistic environment.

-

When I see my baby girl running around in the garden, playing catch with our Goldie, the sides of my lips curl up as I know for sure that I did (and am doing) my best to raise her in a healthy environment.

But sometimes, just sometimes, as I take a long walk around the neighbourhood, I still let the dark thoughts creep in for a second. In that split second, it feels as though my heart is being ripped into pieces and the tallest building in the distance seems so alluring. Thankfully, I time my walks such that I always make it home in time for bedtime stories, before the darkness takes me to a place I never want to be. 

And seeing her sweet and restful face is always the emotional pat on the back that I need.

© Melody Sim | All rights reserved.