I feel like something in me is changing.

I feel a little different.

I’m not sure if it’s a personality thing, a character thing, a emotional swing/season thing or a values/beliefs thing.(maybe I’ll think about this another time)

Well for starters I started listening to rap more. I just had an urge to listen to rap instead of the normal music I usually listen to.

Hard core rap. Like really fast and badass sounding lines. Especially if it talks about society or anything that’s not just bragging about themselves.

I like how in rap there’s so much content packed into so little time. So many thoughts – cleverly worded – shooting out like an auto rifle. It’s almost like listening to a podcast on fast forward just that it’s really catchy.

It’s such a great means of describing the complicated state of something.

There’re only so many syllables you can fit into a melodious song in a way that’s catchy, but in rap, you can stuff a whole lot of words and it’d still sound catchy.

It’s interesting how common themes in rap are.

So many raps are about how rappers have risen from the bottom to the top. Something about how horrible their growing up environment was (a.k.a, their hood) full of vices. And then emphasis on how successful they are now, descriptions of their lavish lifestyles.

But in really creative ways.

I’m trying to find exceptional raps that are really insightful and with clever lyrics.



Another unposted draft that I came across. Took me a while to remember what this was all about. Even though this was 4 years back (wow my goodness) I feel like sometimes this side of me hasn’t really changed much.

16 Feb 2014, vivo city, sky garden.

I kept throwing the ball high high up into the air even though it hurt to catch it. I kept throwing it to get rid of the frustration and anger and disappointment. Even if it dived into the dirty water and I let it splash all over my face.  I threw it into the grass patch, and the leaves were covered with thorns. I had to get it back to throw it again so I cut myself. All over my fingers, and my feet, there were slashes here and there. And they stung. It hurt.

But I didn’t learn from that. I threw it again and it landed onto the grass patch again. And I got cut again.

The more I threw the more frustrated I got.

Maybe I wanted to get rid of it. I bet I looked like a monster throwing it again and again like that. Splash. Splash. And I just stare at it as it floats back up to the surface.

And then, He spoke. Why not try something else since this isn’t working? This isn’t a way to get rid of it at all. All you are doing is hurting yourself and making a fool of yourself.

So I walked towards two little boys and played some catch with them. And we threw the ball around, and it wasn’t something that hurt anymore. It was fun! And I forgot about that feeling.

I took a break from them and went back. I told them, you can return the ball to me after you’re done, I’ll be over there. And I felt it again, coming back. I couldn’t sit still with that feeling because it wouldn’t do anyone any good. So I went back to play catch with them in case I couldn’t keep my thoughts from spilling out through my mouth. And it went away for a while but not quite as completely as before.

I told them they could keep it. They’d have much more use of it than I ever will. They would play together, have fun, instead of me just throwing it around alone on my own. Being more bitter because of it.

And as I gave it to them, and walked back, the feeling died off slowly.

I guess it wasn’t the best way to handle my disappointment with them.

I’m left with all these cuts. But it’s all my fault.

And I am sorry I couldn’t fight off enough of the negativity this time and let it ruin that moment.

I am starting to see so much more bitterness in my heart now. A little every day. more, and more. It’s ruining who I am.

Little things. I really hate this feeling of bitterness. It’s horrible! Haha. I feel bitter about feeling bitter._.

It’s hard to do good

What really amazes me about this line of work is how many lives you suddenly are open to.

Strangers from another part of a darker world that you never could have interacted with in your normal everyday life.

People from worlds you’d never imagine. Criminals with sex offences, abusers and the abused, people with only $2 in their bank accounts, families so broken they almost seem unrepairable, gangs and children with tattoos.

They lead invisible lives, hidden and tucked away by the successes of society.

Today I met someone who committed a really terrible sexual offence. I would have never guessed he ever did something like that, but somehow I didn’t feel repulsed or any anger. Maybe it’s because I saw his human side full of strengths first that I believed in his worth and value as an individual.

I asked one social worker who worked with prisons before if she believed that anyone was completely evil and incapable of good. She said she doesn’t believe God created any human to be completely evil, and she’s never met anyone like that.

I’m not entirely sure, there was a person in America who kept his own daughter locked up in a basement as a sexual toy for 18 years.

But he too was once a child like everyone else. Unless it’s a mental disorder then is it really his fault?

Most people are abnormal for a reason. Not that the reason justifies evil, but it helps you understand a little how hard it was to be good.

I can’t imagine what it’s like the spend 13 years in jail, come out with no money, no house, and work in hotels surrounded by affluent people who can spend your entire monthly income in one day without a care, and remain sane.

wouldn’t there be a lot of bitterness, and resentment? All your life being dealt horrible cards – parents who don’t care, not having money for school, the world’s pretty unfair to wanna be good back to it.

Kinda reminds me of the phantom of the opera.

I just hope this compassion lasts throughout my career haha. Ha .


Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair!

Down we plunge to the prison of my mind!

Down that path into darkness deep as hell!

Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?

Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!


Hounded out by everyone!

Met with hatred everywhere!

No kind word from anyone!

No compassion anywhere!

Christine, Christine …

Why, why …?


I love her!

Does that mean nothing?

I love her!

Show some compassion …


The world showed no compassion to me!


Some days I question the realness of God.

Not that I don’t want God to be real, but especially during periods where I haven’t had many significant spiritual encounters, it’s so hard to comprehend the existence of a being that loves and cares for you.

It’s not that my faith has been fading, it’s more like I can understand a bit better how so many people out there just can’t bring themselves to believe in God.

Everyone wants to be loved. I’ve always thought that if people knew who God truly was without being clouded by misunderstandings, they would want to believe in Him too.

But people just believe that God was made up by humans as a source of comfort. I’ve seen comments about God being “a make believe fairy in the sky” in online comments so many times. It annoys me to see such patronising comments yet I feel like they have such a negative world view for a reason. Maybe they haven’t seen enough of God’s goodness. But then again you’d need faith to see it in the first place.

I really have no idea how belief works. What makes someone believe?? Is it really just a randomly generated desire??

Okay now we’re just kinda dwelling into free will stuff.

Guess we’ll never know how it works, but it’s amazing how I can choose according to my own will what I want. It’s my own will, I’m not just a product of a series of events cascading in a domino-like fashion from other random events.

I want God’s presence to be so real to me I’ll never doubt it ever again.

Think His presence, when really felt, will remove all sorts of doubt, insecurity and fear. But we’ll always constantly going in and out of His presence.

Okay time to pray.

Imagining Details

I don’t know what it is about a good story that I really love.

I guess it’s fun because you get to step into another reality for just a while, and it can be as real as you want it to be.

Think I’m starting to gain back my dreamer phase from back when I was in sec 3. I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling it’s probably because I have nothing much to ruminate on now – in terms of cyclic thoughts that go no where.

My mind has lots of free space now, to imagine things.

I’ve figured out an ending, but I’m still kinda stuck in the middle parts. Well anyways getting the ending sorted is the most important, which is the mistake I made in the previous time I tried to write a story, I just started from the beginning with hardly much planning and just wrote whatever came to mind – really like as if I was discovering things chronologically with the characters too.

I realised I get ideas from real life things, like strange people I see on public transport, a random feeling that drifts by when I’m walking and staring at things.

Trying to think of a story actually helps me to notice things in real life in greater detail. I guess you can only imagine things when you’ve got a good grasp on the details of reality. It’s like drawing.

Drawing – studying the characteristics of an object or a person or a landscape enough to put the essentials on paper so that people can figure out what you’re trying to portray.

The angle of someone’s nose bridge, the way hair flows and acts, where the wrinkles are around eyebrows, how rock formations form and where the shadows fall on, how cloth ripples and folds when walking.

It’s all the details that make it look believable.

I really like it, trying to pick up these details and penning them down.

I really really hope I finish it though haha


There’re so many things I want (have wanted) to do yet I’ve accomplished none of them.

I want to write a proper song that I’d be proud of, I want to write a full completed story (previously it was a comic but I think that’s really being too ambitious), I’m currently halfway through sewing up my fisherman pants, I want to compose piano pieces,

Past “wants” also include: wood carving, knitting, felt cloth making, pottery, I did try to draw a manga type comic once (think I got up to 6 pages and realised it’s way too much work),

I think I just have an obsession with wanting to create something. Something that I can call my own. Maybe I have an obsession with being special. To be irreplaceable. Kinda like how only you can create what you’d create.

I guess creating was what I wanted to make my mark on the world, no matter how tiny, when you create you bring something new into the world, like giving birth to a new life almost. An inanimate life form (that’s an oxymoron).

Right now it’s alternating between music or writing. But I’m not sure if I’ll even get anywhere with it. It could be just a silly fling to pass the time. It could be just an over-romanticised feeling of a journey, or it could actually produce a real gem.

That’s the scary thing about pursuing creative arts for a living I guess, and I deeply respect people who do. It takes a hell lot of courage to step into a path that has absolutely no guarantees, of which failure would lead to a devastating sense of worthlessness despite all of one’s investment into something that crumbled into nothing, or you could actually be onto something really good.

Not that I’m sacrificing anything or investing everything into anything.

I have a pretty safe career path as of now hahah.

Although sometimes I wish I was on a path that had a little more risk, and a little more excitement. (Not that social work isn’t risky or exciting, but it’s procedural and there’s a standard you have to meet set by others rather than yourself)

It’s that consuming feeling, not wanting to do anything else, excitement of the possibilities, imagining a future of really succeeding, making plans and preparations, but then when the excitement fades and the real hard work begins, that’s what separates dreams that are really just flings at a taste of idealism, or a real commitment to something that might actually come true.

A little testimony

I was honestly feeling pretty in the dumps this morning, I felt so dead and I could feel that tingly sensation in the middle of my head that tells me I’m about to cry anytime now, and I couldn’t stop tearing up on the bus to church. I checked the period app and to no surprise it was probably a bout of PMS.

I always thought it never really affected me, but I guess I’m not emotional in a sense where I get easily agitated or annoyed. I just become really sad and depressed for a day or two.

This Saturday was super packed (a meeting in the morning, emceeing, DG, and dinner with jasmine) although sitting in for DG was cancelled because none of them came, and I really didn’t feel like I could get through it. I had half the mind to cancel the meeting in the morning because I thought I might just burst into tears in the middle of it. I don’t really know how to describe how terrible I felt. I just wanted to be alone. Away from everything. And it certainly didn’t feel like I was in the right state to emcee.

But the day went pretty good, and it was even enjoyable, and I know this is really God-driven, because I could feel my own self struggling so much, but when God was in the picture somehow that struggle dissipated, and that desire to be alone faded.


Before I slept I was thinking about consciousness. Well actually before I slept I was watching ironman 3. I was moving my fingers and hands around slowly, trying to feel what it was like to have armour or tonne in control of a suit like the ironman suits. But then I felt this weird out of body feeling, like it’s a strange thing that I can control this physical body. It bends to my every will and what I want it to do.

My body felt like some suit I was controlling. It felt like life was a simulation and I was being imported into this body to live in this world. Like a sim? An avatar.

I felt just like an avatar for a moment.

And then I felt so alone. Like it was only me in this avatar. And when I die, what would happen? Would my consciousness just be cut off from this physical body somehow? Where would it go? How does God handle our consciousness?? How does it work? Is there something more than just the pattern of electrical impulses in our brains that stores everything?

What am I exactly?

Just a bunch of electric signals and sparks between neurons? A record of every choice and thought I’ve ever made? Just all my memories?

I got a little freaked out, but then again it was 3am and I shouldn’t have stayed up that late or drank coffee (but my dad wanted Starbucks) so I just breathed a little, talked to God about the whole thing, felt better and then drifted off to sleep.

Dream log (forgetting everything)

Based on some prediction in the Chinese calendar, there was a day when everyone would simply just forget everything. Like a clean slate start a new kind of thing. Everyone took it seriously, and when the day came people were hugging each other taking pictures and all.

I was with my mom but she didn’t look like my mom, and I was taking pictures of her with a flowering tree’s branches as a background.

Pretty sure a lot more happened but I can’t remember what.

The dream didn’t last long enough for me to have actually gone through forgetting everything, but I’m not sure if it’s even possible to dream of forgetting everything, it’s like being in an empty state isn’t it??

I also dreamt that I was in Japan again, this time with my parents, and we were trying to find a room. We were on a road that looked like it was on the beginning inclining path of a very small mountain ridge, and there were two small building next to the road, one building was no. 51 and the one next to it was no. 75.

We opened the door to 75 and inside was a huge korean family, lazing around, one was drunk on the floor, and they grumbled about having to get out.

I remember dreading to stay in that place because they really made a mess.

I think this was my last dream before I woke up.

Dream log: trip to Tokyo

I was on Tokyo with my grandparents, although it looked nothing like what I remembered.

We were taking a cable car back to the airport to get our luggage which we left at the lockers, but it was this cable car taxi system, so it looked like the inside of a car and this Japanese man that looked like Shinzo abe was driving it.

He was a gruff, rude person, and kept complaining about the jam and how even though it’s a cable car, it’s not even in the sky but on the road along with the other cars. What’s the point of having a cable car??

The city looked nothing like Tokyo too.

When we reached, Shinzo got out of the car and lit up a cigarette. We were in the middle of some small dark alley, and he started talking to some random guy there who was also smoking.

My grandfather went up to him and asked him for directions to this train station, but Shinzo just brushed him off and said he’ll show us around Tokyo another time although we could tell he didn’t mean it.

Then we walked off and my grandfather complained about how rude he was.

Then I told him that it’s alright and I knew how to get around Tokyo, so I led them.

Suddenly we’re walking towards the toilets, and it was a really empty walkway with a small courtyard garden next to us. There was a huge tree in the middle of he courtyard sitting inside this circular patch of grass with a border made of cement. It was raining pretty heavily, and the circular patch was pooling with water and mud. BUT it was also on fire, like there was a blue flame dancing on top of the water like a baked Alaska. It was super strange.

And there was a lot of lightning. Just before I made it to the toilet, this Indian lady suddenly appeared, she was squatting on the floor and her whole body was on fire, kind of like the fire at the tree, I quickly rushed to her and patted her down with a wet cloth that I was holding (I have no idea why I had that) and the flames eventually died.

Then two other Indian people appeared, an old man and someone else, they were also on fire. My cloth was already dry so I went out into the rain to get it wet but then I realised something must be really wrong with the rain for it to still be on fire at that patch of grass, so I quickly jumped out of the rain, and asked them, “were you all standing in the rain when this happened??” as I tried patting the fire away with my cloth as well.

Then I woke up. And I felt so tired. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the only dream I had, I vaguely remember another one but I forgot most of it. A night packed with dreams is pretty tiring like I mean my Brain is still running and active and all even though I’m sleeping I feel like I didn’t actually sleep.