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Sunday, 23 January 2022

Perhaps love


After 27 years of living, I think I still haven't fully grappled with what it really means to love someone. 

Is it a feeling of affection towards a person? 

Is it wanting only the best for them? 

Or is it wanting to possess and have all of them? 

None of these definitions seem to quite cut it. 

We are capable of loving someone even when the feelings of affection aren’t there. Even when we’re annoyed or frustrated with them. 

We are capable of loving someone and yet not want the best for them if it threatens our own survival. 

We are capable of loving someone while choosing to not have them because sometimes, we understand that it just wasn’t meant to be. 

What, then, does it mean to love someone? 

I don’t know. Perhaps it is whatever we make it out to be. 

Perhaps it is choosing to share some of your joys and sorrows with a person. Perhaps it is being upset or angry at a person, but choosing to stay any way. Perhaps it is choosing to step out of your headspace to see things from their perspective, even when it is so f*cking difficult. Perhaps it is finding out what a psycho the both of you can be but still choosing to say, ‘I do’. 

Perhaps that is love.

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."

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