Is it weird that I have less and less capacity to interact with people as I grow older?

I can barely be bothered to reply messages on my phone, and I kind of really don’t want to meet people that much.

Maybe it was just from a long weekend of constant non-stop people people people. Sometimes I just want to be alone so that I can do the things I like, yet today when I was alone for the entire day I just felt like doing absolutely nothing and I slept for the most part of it. But I felt even more tired and I had zero motivation to do anything, even the things I do like doing.

I just didn’t want to think, I wanted to be a mindless blob, a spiritually non-existent piece of the universe.

Maybe it’s just too many people. I feel like I’ve been cut up into too many pieces, and my finite capacity to love has been sliced up into such thin pieces that there’s barely anything in every piece of affection cake I have to give out.

I simply just don’t care anymore.

Which is, probably really bad.

How am I supposed to work in a profession where I’ll need to give out constant love and utmost attention every day to a whole bunch of different people?

Sometimes I just want to be a housewife, maybe cook nice meals on some days, do some gardening (but I have no luck with raising plants), arts and crafts or science experiments with the kids (or kid), carry out mindless house chores, play with the cat and spend every day being able to decide what I get to do. That sounds like a pretty nice life honestly. I’m probably reducing down the responsibilities a housewife actually faces by a ton but this is what I imagine the best parts of it will be.

Is motivation a feeling or a logical thought process??

Is it something you can control? To what extent?

I know people with depression have this incapacity to be motivated, so I’m guessing it’s a chemical thing.

Well most, and probably all emotions are chemical things.

But it doesn’t make them unspiritual just because it’s simply a chemical reaction. That’s just probably how God designed us to work.

Hopefully I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling a little bit more full after a day of nothing. Okay doing nothing is rest, right…?

Doing nothing is just simply existing. Yeah that’s a better way to put it, instead of calling myself a blob.



So during philosophy class today, we had to raise up our hands if we believed we were hedonists, and only Yu Zhe and I raised up our hands and defended why.

I found it pretty funny, considering we were Christians, and the only hedonists in class were Christians. And being a hedonist is such a worldly sounding thing. Everyone must have thought we were just self-seekers and shallow.

I love playing the bad role in philosophy classes. Like that time I pretended I was a nihilist.

I do agree that pleasure is the only certainly and inherently “good” thing, in and of itself.

It’s what we find pleasure in that makes the difference. John piper’s book on why he calls himself a Christian hedonist is one of the few books that have made a lasting and dramatic impact on my philosophy of life.

I thought about a counter argument, that another thing that would be inherently “good” in and of itself would be morality. Or even purpose.

But we only think morality is good because you seek pleasure in being “moral”. Yes there are painful parts in our efforts of striving to be morally good, but ultimately it’s because the idea of being a moral person brings you pleasure. Even from a Christian perspective, we want to be morally good because it pleases God, and that in turn would please us. Doesn’t everything seem to boil down to pleasure in the end?

It’s like some unwritten rule of life, or law of how the universe works, that we are driven by seeking pleasure, or to use a more christiany word, “joy”.

What is the point in something if we don’t derive joy from it? It sounds shallow, because it sounds self-serving, but when you really sit down and think about the reason why you value what you value and do what you do, you’ll find that it ultimately boils down to: because you enjoy it. Or feel something good from it.

To rephrase that statement in a more Christian way, what is the point of glorifying God if we don’t enjoy it? The act itself of not enjoying God isn’t glorifying in the first place.

The very process of wanting something and getting it is pleasure, so following this, won’t everything we choose and are driven to do be a result of seeking pleasure?


Think over the past few years, I’ve somehow lost an appreciation for child-likeness. In fact, I feel like I’ve grown rather adverse towards the idea.

I think I have to define what I mean by child-likeness. I don’t mean it in terms of faith, of just believing, and I don’t mean of purity.

It’s this characteristic way of reacting to the world around you, being easily excitable over the tiniest of things, being fascinated with normal regular everyday things most people won’t give a second glance to, kind of giving the illusion that there’s a lot you’ve yet to learn and know, and that’s what makes your world exciting.

I feel I still wonder about things, but not in an exaggerated curious fascination of tiny things. I don’t flail my arms in excitement over much anymore.

Maybe once I thought that there was some virtue in being like a child, maybe it was that innocent quality, or still having much to explore, of having this kind of vibrant life and energy flowing through every movement and action. Some kind of spark or way of viewing the world in an overly saturated colour scheme.

Maybe I felt it would be more interesting being someone like that. And it is infectious, being around a person like that. Intriguing almost.

I think my world grew darker. But not in a bad way. Toned down, it feels a little more like reality, how the world actually looks.

I feel like I’m far from child-like now, in fact it irritates me sometimes when I’m around people like that.

“Is it really that interesting to you?”

“Are you really that excited and happy over (whatever he/she is jumping up and down about)?”

Thoughts like these sound out in my mind like alarm bells and my blood starts to curdle from the cringe.

Maybe it’s because all those years ago, my “child-likeness” was a facade, just a way to seem more interesting. And it made me overly critical about the genuineness of other’s excitement and enthusiasm.

I think I might even be starting to pride myself in being an overly critical little snob, wary about anything and everything. Because being naive and ignorant is the worst.

Like how innocence isn’t innocence if you know nothing about the wrong parts.

I question every single intention that other people have in the things they do or say to me just as much as I criticise myself.

Because I know how impure my intentions can get, what’s to say others aren’t the same?

Whenever someone talks to me excitedly about something I don’t really see anything fascinating about, I just feebly laugh instead of joining in on their excitement. And it makes me feel so jaded and dull in comparison to them. That’s probably another possible explanation as to why it irritates me. Oh and it’s also really tiring having to respond to something you don’t really want to respond to.

Or am I wrong here? In my efforts of trying to be “real” and “authentic”, I’m being someone who doesn’t put in effort to experience their joy or liveliness because I’m so cynical of the ‘joy’ and happiness other people seem to be experiencing from the littlest things?

On the note of being authentic, before, I was desperate to feel special. Unique somehow.

That desire is a lot less strong now, probably because I’m just happy with who I am and I don’t have to pretend to be anything to feel noticed or liked.

Goodness that’s such an American way of viewing things. Laaaaame.

But it’s also a sign I’m really, really not a teenager anymore. Thank goodness, being a teenager is such an awkward cringey time.

OH and during philosophy class today, it was pretty okay you know what I’ll write this in a separate post


The 20s is the age of dreams aren’t they, where nothing is certain and anything is possible.

I had so many dreams.

I wanted to be an archaeologist in primary 1, until I found out that there’s really not much to dig up in singapore and it’s not just about finding treasure in sand. I remember reading up on all the Egyptian treasures and things in the school library.

Then I wanted to be a journalist. That was around upper primary. I was so sure that that was what I was meant to do. I’d even write “articles” for my friends to read and do up fake advertisements selling ridiculous things. They were all in a notebook and I’d pass it around. I remember Tammy being particularly eager to read them haha.

And then there was a brief period of time in lower sec that I wanted to be a policewoman until I looked up the salaries on the police force website and also saw the physical fitness requirements to be one.

And in sec 3, I was so sure I was going to be an author. I wrote stories in my exercise books and kept a notebook everywhere I went in case I had ideas I could jot down. My mind was constantly on my story, and I’d sit for hours typing away. I loved it, the feeling of being alone in my own world surrounded by my own characters. I made it up to 64,000 words and I was so proud of how much I had written. I even looked up for possible publishing firms that I could send my story to in the future.

And then I had a fight with my dad about it, I think it was something about me being distracted from studying because I was always writing (think it was on the night I stayed up till 1am) and I felt like he was belittling me.

I even wanted to get into Victoria JC because they had a creative writing programme. And I searched up degrees for writing stories (not much really)

When I saw that you can’t really study being an author, I thought about doing mass communications in poly, since I liked writing so much.

Then I had another big argument with my dad and he told me I would just be writing what other people want me to write.

(He was probably right)

And then I realised what I liked most about writing and journalism is people, and their stories. I wanted to know more stories about people.


And somehow I ended up taking psychology in polytechnic, not really quite sure of what to expect.

Now I’m well on my way to becoming a social worker and honestly I’m not quite sure how I knew what a social worker was. And how I wanted to be one.

I think I found out about social work in the ngee Ann psychology webpage, in “future prospects”, and searched it up thinking it was pretty neat.

And also sis andrea’s prophetic prayer thingy during one of the camps on how I have a heart for underdogs probably had something to do with it.

I actually thought of doing social work with a minor in mass communications just in case I wanted to do documentaries next time on social issues like a mesh of journalism and social justice but decided it was too much work and I could do videos and documentation without studying mass com anyways.

Recently I started busking with gen, and writing songs, and I really love doing this too. I’ve always liked music, I remember using my dad’s iPod to fall asleep with music in my ears when I was really young. And wanting to be the phantom in a musical. One day in lower secondary I tried recording my own voice in GarageBand when I was old enough to figure it out a little, thought it sounded quite horrible and pretty much gave up on all hopes of any music related career.

I hated playing the piano in piano class when I was younger too. And I quit in grade 2. But then I heard river flows in you by yiruma around secondary school and I have no idea what came over me but I just HAD to learn how to play that song. So I dug up my old dusty piano and tried plugging it in, and that was when I started playing the piano again.

Then in secondary 3 ish (?) I found this really old guitar that used to belong to my uncle stuffed away on top of my parent’s cupboard, and I got really excited knowing we had another instrument lying around in the house for nothing. So I dusted it and tried it and was really horrible and just played around on it every once in a while.

Then I learned the difference between classical and acoustic guitars.

And my guitar was waaaayyy too big for my hands and that it was almost impossible for me to play bar chords on that.

So I got myself an acoustic guitar without really researching. I saw the cheapest acoustic guitar and immediately got it when I saw steel strings and not nylon. And it sounded springy not dull and that was all that mattered to me.

And then I wrote some songs here and there but it was all just for fun.

The past few months the thought of doing music seriously came across my mind a couple of times. Maybe it’s the courage that Gen gave me. And busking was really fun, and getting to know new people through it was fun. Seeing people sing along, and being entertained was nice. It wasn’t something I’d necessarily pursue, but if I ever got the chance to do it for real, I think I’d take it. Writing songs, and playing them.

I’m not that great, I know, there are people way better than I am, in all aspects of music hahah but I felt like maybe I’d have something to offer, just heart. And emotions. A soul I guess. And everyone’s souls are different so it would be special in its own way. Not perfect but different.

And music connects with people in a different way from counselling.

I felt like a teenager again. Dreaming unrealistic dreams. Being a teeny little bit more uncertain about the future. I kinda liked it.

Sometimes I think I love too many things.

Okay I love visual arts but I never ever thought of actually being an artist for real, that was probably the only hobby that I was certain would never become a dream.

Come to think of it, there was never really any substantial period of time in my life that I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

I was always sure of what I wanted and worked towards it somehow. Maybe that’s just how much I didn’t like uncertainty, or maybe I just always wanted to be someone significant. Or I was just that ignorant in thinking that every hobby or interest I had would make a great career.

Honestly now, I’m okay with whatever I end up being (and it might even change along the way who knows and who cares people aren’t ‘fated’ to be anything, they just are) I just want God to use me and what He’s given me for His purposes. That’s better than running off and doing something stupid and meaningless, even if we might enjoy it for a while.

I read this somewhere, that God doesn’t care about what’s on our resumes and we can have had a 100 different jobs for all I know and it wouldn’t matter either ways.

It’s who we are in whatever we do that counts.


Recently this chapter has popped up in my head, Jolene told me she was reading it because her family kept talking about it, and then when I was in the NUS library today I was just aimlessly wandering around and this book on apocalypses caught my eye, and in the book was a chapter on “the Christian apocalypse rewritten as science fiction”.

The author described revelations as so speculative that I began to question what revelations really is all about, and so I went to watch the bible project’s videos on revelations and they gave a really great conclusion and summary of it.

The book of revelations isn’t really about prophecies or mysterious codes, it’s a source of ultimate hope that motivates faithfulness – symbols of what we can look forward to and keep holding on to. The horrors described in revelations is nothing new, it’s happened in the time of the bible and it’s happened along the course of human history.

I’ve always thought of the future that revelations described to be scary, but really, the scary parts are already happening now: governments rejecting God, persecution and death and famine and war and destruction has become such an average thing in our age.

It made me think, why are there days when I don’t see the world as a scary place? Is it because I’m in it? Now that’s scary.

I want to be constantly reminded of what a dark place this world is. Then I will be eagerly waiting for the end of it. I feel like we can easily tell of what place God has in a person’s life through the way he responds to the concept of the apocalypse.

Is it the tragic end of the world he loves, or is it a long-awaited redemption of a world made new?


Can’t tell if my anger is from pride or injustice or bitterness. Not sure if these are unrelated or if everything’s connected which makes it worse but I know I can’t hold it in any longer

I couldn’t even look her in the eye for more than a minute without feeling overwhelming feelings about to erupt.

The only issues I have with life now are ironically with the church. Am I just expecting too much? Is my anger justified? Or am I just being a oversensitive ass? I’d like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t get angry easily nowadays, but why is it so easy for me to be angry at even the tiniest things they do?

It’s a snowball, I know, but it’s not ending.

It feels like it’s becoming an avalanche.

Dream log

Dreamt that it was a huge church service but it didn’t look like church, and I saw my primary school friends sitting together,

But when I got closer I got shocked from seeing Chloe. She had a terrible skin condition. Her face was patchy and brown in patches, and it looked shrivelled up and there was pus covering her face in areas, and on her right cheek there was a huge hole that looked like it was rotting off,

Her left hand also looked like it was rotting, her hand had shrunk to about a third of its size and she couldn’t move it. The skin was also falling off revealing black bone underneath, that looked a little like chicken bones. There was a tiny translucent hand growing out from her wrist, and she said the doctor was trying to grow out another hand but it wasn’t working really well.

I asked her what happened, and I can’t remember what she said exactly, but it was something about playing DOTA

and then I woke up and it felt like a nightmare because it was really horrific, she’s the last person I would expect to have to go through something so traumatic as that. But the sky was still dark outside but I didn’t check the time, and I went back to sleep.

Then I dreamt again, and I think I went for leaders cell and it was in my house, but the house looked a lot bigger.

We were all sitting in a circle and we were given topics to teach about on the spot.

When it came to my turn I didn’t realise that it was an impromptu thing and that everyone had known what they would be teaching about.

I think my topic was on how can we help direct a spousal abuser on the right track again.

I said something about how he would need a relationship with God, and then also awareness of what he’s doing to the spouse because some people might not even be aware that what they’re doing is abuse, and then I paused for a while thinking what else, and said encouragement and support.

Pastor Joey was there, and he said that’s good, but then I realised that everyone else wasn’t there and it was just me, pj and raymynn and Raylynn.

And then I jokingly told him (but with a little bit of bitterness) ,” see, everyone left because I’m unpopular and no one wants to hear me”

Then I walked out of my room and saw them in the living room having fun talking and I think Jacinth was holding my ukulele

I went over to the fridge and took some chocolate to give to Jolene, who was somehow in my room. Then I told her what happened, and we just stayed there.

Then the house was quiet and everyone had gone downstairs, and I suspected that pastor Joey took what I said seriously and went to talk with them but I never knew the outcome of the talk because suddenly I was at a huge hotel buffet dinner, and it was really high class food.

This guy from my childcare centre I used to hate and vice versa was at my table, and we were at the dessert section which looked really good, I offered if he wanted to share the cakes so we can eat more and he agreed, then I got this whole section of red velvet cakes and a cake that looked like an apple.

I was cutting them into half and putting them on his plate, and then I can’t remember what happened after that.


I sat at my table for about an hour trying to write a song.

I found some chords I really liked, but my head felt so empty and I felt like I was just trying to force out something to talk about.

I’m seriously starting to believe I can only churn out stuff when I’m sad.

Or maybe i just haven’t been thinking enough lately.

Which is why I decided I need to write more.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost my internal monologue throughout the day.

Well, when you’re with people constantly you don’t really have much space left for one.

There’s no theme that I currently feel very strongly for. Like hope. Or will. Or love. Or dreams. Or self esteem.

Sometimes writing a song can feel like acting. When I try to write about something I’m not really going through, or facing. Like grief.

But it feels like I can only write when I’m actually feeling it, only then will I notice the richness and detail of exactly what it feels like.

I think you can tell, if a song was written really generally, or if they really went through it. It’s like the way they wrote it translates everything you felt exactly like how you’d put it in words if only you knew how.

Does that sentence even make sense?

It’s a really unexpected, so that it’s not cliche, yet incredibly accurate way of describing things.

I was thinking of writing a song about Solomon. And how he found everything in the world meaningless.

But then I’d have to read Ecclesiastes first through. I think I read it halfway the last time.

Okay my brain actually hurts from thinking but it could also be because it’s 1am.

Fun fact, your brain doesn’t actually feel any pain at all because it doesn’t have pain receptors.

More Words

I’m really quite amazed at how much I can feel by reading people’s words.

Maybe it’s because in our Asian culture, people don’t really say things out loud.

But somehow when I see the word instead of hearing it, I feel a lot more. I’m not sure why.

It’s like how a word is forever engraved onto something, it feels a little more solid, intentional and real (although this isn’t the case for everything)

And I can read them again and again, and I’ll imagine their voices reading it out to me.

And their words kind of wrap around my heart, like a tight hug.

Just looking at a bunch of scribbles and I can feel all sorts of things.

Hear all sorts of things, see all sorts of things.

Behind every word an emotion, a memory, affection and thought, all of which are somehow connected to you, connecting the both of you. Someone had you on their mind while inking their words onto a page. And they wanted to translate all of these complicated things in their heads and hearts to you, and are able to do so with the simple process of writing.

Words are amazing.

There’s also something special about writing a letter without a reply.

It’s like “I just want my words to be with you always, and I don’t need to receive anything back.”

Just knowing I’m reaching you is enough

Okay this sounds a little too romantic.

New year

Wanted to write a little about how I feel about this year,

I’m not really sure what to feel,

It doesn’t really feel like there’s any distinction between this year and last year.

31st December and 1 January just felt like yesterday and today.

A pretty seamless transition. Doesn’t feel like there’s much to it honestly.

I have no idea what this year has in store for me, and I don’t feel much about it, so maybe I’ll just talk a little about last year instead.

I graduated from polytechnic, went overseas with my friends for the first time, had a close cell I could feel completely comfortable in, got into NUS, made one friend, got a lot closer to my family, OH started Busking, and got to meet up regularly with friends quite a lot.

A pretty exciting year packed with loads of new experiences, transitions and time to do things that I wanted to do.

Spiritually, I feel like what I’ve learnt most about this year and practised was on the importance of standing up for the truth that I believe in as a Christian, and faith in God’s overall sovereignty.

To not be a complete wuss and just say what people want to hear, but to say what they need to hear. To exercise faith in knowing that God is in control no matter what happens.

Sometimes I get the feeling that one day I’m going to lose everything good that I ever had in this life. I got a little bit of that feeling today, in the car with my family.

My life is so full of blessings, I wonder who I’d be without them.

It’s scary to think about it.

Next year, or rather this year, I really want to be more firmly grounded in the word, this time though, this conviction feels different because it’s not born out of guilt for not reading the bible like a goody Christian but really because I want to be used by God more.

I found myself in many situations this year a little more stuck just because I didn’t know enough of the bible. I want to be someone that can encourage another with a verse, that can pray biblically, with words and declarations founded on the bible.

I want to know who God really Is. every side of Him. Not just the parts that everyone knows and is easy to swallow, but the parts that may be difficult to understand, especially in the Old Testament. Both His grace and His fury, mercy and judgement.

Only then can I come to comprehend a little more of God’s love.

I really want unshakable faith.

And a love for others that doesn’t come from me.

I really want to grow.