You (don’t) sound Singaporean!

You (don’t) sound Singaporean!

(It’s 2am and I’m terribly tired, but I thought I should write down my thoughts before they slip from my mind. Pardon me if this post ends up unfinished at this point, it will be finished at some point.)

Now before I began, a little update. I’ve just started school at UCL for about 3 weeks, and I am having quite a good time so far. Law’s tough, but it’s interesting and honestly I really enjoy having to do all the readings we have to do, though it makes me incredibly tired at the end of the day and I end up not as efficient as I’d have hoped to be. The social aspect is tough, but it’s getting a bit easier and I have more friends now, both Singaporean and the ang-mohs. (I’ll talk more about my experiences in my London blog.)

I decided to write this post after a little incident that occurred while I was waiting for my debate to start in the holding room. Bianca and I met two people—an American and  a Hong-Konger whose parents are Malaysians—and we started talking about the Singaporean accent. I can’t remember how it started, or whether I was responding to a comment, but I recall saying, “My accent doesn’t sound that Singaporean, actually”. And this brought on a tiny (civilised) disagreement on how “Singaporean” I sound, with the Hong-Konger claiming “What, you sound really Singaporean”, and me being slightly miffed and retorting “my friends say I don’t sound that Singaporean” and him insisting that I was, in essence, the epitome of the Singaporean accent. In the midst of my irritation and annoyance at having my accent commented upon, I went to a friend of mine and demanded, “Do I sound very Singaporean to you?”.

His response: Why does it matter and what is so bad about that?

What is so bad about that? This question struck me in the core. Honestly, was sounding like a Singaporean, my nationality, something to be ashamed of? I do revel in conversing with my Singaporean friends, I feel extremely at ease (more relaxed than usual, even) when I can throw around my lah-s and meh-s, and remove conjunctions and verbs and essentially rojak the English language with lots of dialects. Why did I, then, become so defensive when someone calls my accent out as something that is an archetype of my nationality?

(In fact I am too tired to continue writing so why don’t you throw out suggestions and I will feature you in this piece?)


Thoughts at 2am

Thoughts at 2am

Getting pretty late, I really should sleep but I’m feeling very happy, floaty and light, hopeful, optimistic. This week has been so good, so exciting. Went to Odette’s house yesterday, God I will miss her so much when I go to the UK. Such a brilliant girl, kind and clever; I can talk about both trash and more meaningful stuff, concepts, ideas with her. Then I got Lady Gaga concert tickets which I’m going with Eugenia, so glad she’s going to the UK too. I really doubt I’ll be homesick there; I always tell people it’s pretty ok for me because one of my closest friends is coming along with me! Just got home after meeting with Sangwoo, his optimism really rubs off on me. Yet another lovely person, it’s amazing how well we can connect and how easy it is to understand each other. Must be the Aries-Gemini connection, I reckon. Really eased any worries I had recorded in my previous “untitled” post, so grateful for his companionship, insights and honesty. 

Brilliant week. Really hope the next would be just as great. My heart is literally bubbling with contentment and warmth. I really am incredibly grateful for the friends I have. 



Sometimes I wonder whether I should delete this blog. Start anew. Leave the past behind. But this blog holds so much sentiment and so many memories that it seems wasteful to not continue this little project. I think, for now I’ll keep it. Maybe when I start uni and things are a little different then I would continue on a new blog.

I know I should probably be sleeping, but a lot has been on my mind recently—angst, confusion and oddly, serenity. Writing is cleansing, so here is another “untitled” post (I’m not too good at post titles as you can see). I think I’ll leave most of my posts  “untitled” from now on, or with a generic title such as “thoughts on a wednesday evening”. Most of my posts are pretty generic anyway, mostly thoughts/feelings without a central theme/message so doing so would be pretty apt. Anyway, this particular post would be quite diary-style, rather jumbled with just thoughts all over the place (I need to get them in order but it’s difficult to arrange them internally, so I’m gonna brain-dump here).

So much has happened in the past week or so. Life’s (finally) looking a bit more exciting, with an orientation camp for my uni’s kids over the weekend. In retrospect I’m pretty glad for the camp actually; I’ve gone too long without such “mass” human interaction and have (over the months) started to become more and more “introverted”. Honestly, I thought that I had really become an introvert, though Odette would probably seek to differ and many of my other friends would laugh at this statement. The whole thing is quite complicated; for the past months, whenever I go out with a bunch of people I know but don’t really know, I just feel like burrowing within myself and become super conscious of how I’m not getting the humor, fitting in basically. And I don’t think I cannot actually fit in, but it’s just there’s a certain resistance to interacting with such a large group of people simultaneously and not going into deep feelings and thoughts and stuff. And I would feel increasingly lost in events filled with strangers and just want to go home. I think it’s social anxiety of a specific kind; one that is engendered whenever I have to handle interactions that involves reveling in the atmosphere/laughter. I even cried about it with Matt; it just seemed so tough, and I get hurt too easily sometimes. But he’s right. Just different ways of socialising, I suppose. No wonder I’m only a borderline extrovert: I love to talk to people but having to talk to more than 1-2 people/make ONLY small-talk drains me particularly fast.

Back to my main point. I’m kinda grateful for the camp as I do miss making interactions on the most basic level, that is, to just start knowing people, initiating conversations etc. It wasn’t easy at first, however. I think a lot of us were kind of intimidated at first (well, me at least, for I get intimidated pretty easily) due to people talking about drinking and partying and admitting to heavy drinking and partying. But first impressions count for little, I suppose. Whilst the night activity was kind of strange and uncomfortable, I’m kind of glad it turned out the way it did as it got us (in the OG) talking and find things in common (nothing bonds people more than talking about other people (oops)) and I’d like to think we became a lot more at ease with each other after that and everyone seemed less scary after that. Though I feel like I’m pretty good at getting people to dislike me (I’m so noisy sometimes and too passionate/obsessed about things I’m passionate about) which sucks but I’m really too tired to care anymore, or so I think.  I guess if at the end of the day I can find a few friends whom I really get along with, it’s good enough for me. Moving on…

I’m kinda in a state of confusion right now such that I really don’t know what I want/think. I guess it’s just the added pressure of the whole university-is-where-you’ll-find-someone and one of my closest friends actually finding someone. I can be so emotionally needy sometimes, God, and think, hey, having a boyfriend would be pretty cool. But I don’t want one. I think intimacy is kinda icky sometimes. My friends say that it’s because I have never experienced it, but I don’t know, I feel my mind hardening into an increasingly rational one every day, and it certainly does not help convince me love does exist. I guess it’s really part of identity formation, answering the question: Could I love? I don’t know, could I, COULD I? (FML, first the existential crisis, now this). Sometimes I meet someone really good in many ways but after a while a horrible feeling comes over me like hey, I can’t love love this person. I really don’t know how to describe it. Do you get that? Leave a comment below. Lust, parental love yes I understand but what about love, between two complete strangers? I don’t know. I’ll update this blog if I actually find love but I think that will be quite some time away. And then I look into the mirror and at pictures and analyse my bro-ish/brash/impulsive/loud/driven attitude and think, who can love this? I’m not that girl, that meek-pretty-sweet-lovely-slender-tender girl. I mean, I try to be sometimes but I’d say I haven’t had much success. I guess the only good thing is that I’m kind and friendly and helpful (though over-compensating sometimes, I need to keep my problem-solving attitude under control) so yea that makes me a good, but somewhat irritating friend. Sometimes people ask me why I don’t date and I love to tell them I’m not the type, except (secretly) I mean I’m not the type, girlfriend-material type. And it really sucks that I’m writing this because being an insecure creature is a highly unattractive trait. But screw this it’s my blog I can write whatever I want.

But I digress. Some days I am just too dopily/floppily/rabbity happy to care about boyfriends and what is it- lurrr-vve. Like I feel like a free spirit and all, that I can do whatever I want, go wherever I want on my own. Like I don’t really need anyone. Really at odds with my insecurities over love and whatsit. I guess it’s because I’m not THAT love-hungry but am driven by hormones (? ??? ?????????). Sorry for describing us rational beings as primal creatures, clearly I’m a very very bio student (Mrs Lee would be so proud of me, I would say).

Anyway, all I know is that I’m not crushing on anyone anytime soon. Been there, done that (way too many times). It’s unhealthy to always seek out love/people and never ever being a recipient of that. Very, very unhealthy. So bloody tired of that. So whatever, can’t be bothered. I’m just gonna do my own thing and see how everything turns out. Not gonna hold firm ideas about anything or make assumptions and be active about it all. I’m just gonna sit here.

I apologise for the jumbled-ness of the post. Just gotta get the thoughts out and writing helps me to think. I may not be a good writer but I still love to write because it allows you to hunt within yourself emotions and thoughts that are too difficult to verbalize. And I really shouldn’t use the “z”s and words like “learned”, gotta keep the spelling more brit.



My Memory Project: Part 1

My Memory Project: Part 1

I recall:

Lunchtimes spent with Sandra and Eugenia in Room 9 or 13. Doing homework, studying, ranting. Complaining about the J1s then. Talking about you-know-who.

Always trying to find people to share the papadums with because they come in packets of two. Chicken tenders from the Malay store, which we got upset when they stopped selling. Potatoes with cheese. Baked rice from the western store. Calling straight red tea “curved red tea” or “gay red tea”. Milo ice-creams. Eating from the chicken rice store because nobody buys from there so there isn’t a queue. Iced milo. We don’t really like eating in the canteen.

Odette walking to the TG table. Throws her green (new balance?) bag on the table, which I recall she got as her 17th birthday present. Generally the TG don’t really talk to each other in the morning but how would I know, I’m always late anyway. Plus I was quite absent the last few months of school because I had, umm, other concerns ( I now see another possibility of my memory loss: the fact that a lot of my school life was about you-know-who and I am not the kind to wallow in rejection, so getting over him effectively wiped away all my memories of him i.e memories of school.)

Alright, that’s enough for today. It’s getting a little bit hard, the blankness is setting in again.


My memory project

My memory project

A couple of incidents that occurred recently really scared me. I am not sure for what purpose exactly but I was trying to recall my economics tuition teacher’s name, when I realised I really cannot. It’s just gone, despite so many months of being with her, of texting her. Only after several months did I finally manage to recall her name, from a (recalled) image of her contact in my phone. The next incident scared me even more. I was trying to text my JC economics teacher, when I couldn’t. It was only after forcing myself to think, to actually think, did I remember that his name is Kelvin, and not Kevin. It was ridiculous that I could not remember his name, for he wrote my recommendation letter and anyone who knows me from school knows that I am obsessed with finding out details about his life.

How could I forget? How could I forget these details, when they have always been a big part of my life? I really feel like I’m floating, living in a another world, and I get this weird distant feeling of déjà vu when I step into the school. I feel a little piece of me come back somehow, but it’s not complete; it’s almost as if I’m on autopilot and my whole yes-I-remember-everyone-and-everything falls away when I really sit down to think: do I?

Some days, I feel like I’m losing my memory. I love cracking this joke, “IB is like childbirth: the process is painful, the end fruitful and you forget everything after it”. It’s really true for me, and I am half-afraid that it is due to the degeneration of my brain. However, inspecting the pattern of my memory lapses, it seems like I am forgetting everything about economics, as the econs final exam brought me a lot of pain. If I think really hard, I recall being driven to tears because I was so tensed up for the exam that I couldn’t remember what I’ve studied. I remember crying my heart out because I ended up having so little time to do the questions. I remember always tearing up at random times in December, because I was positive my IB score would be less than 40 and it hurt me knowing that my predicted was near 44/45 but I wasn’t able to perform well for the exam. I think (and sincerely hope) it’s my brain’s way to forget the trauma by first forgetting associative memory: teachers, classmates, events.

So I’m embarking on this little project. I already find it a bit easier to recall things as I write this post and I am forced to actually think, think about what has happened. For the next few weeks, I will attempt to recall major events in my life. It’s not necessary, but the blankness and the desperation of trying to recall my life scares me.



Thoughts on a Wednesday evening

Thoughts on a Wednesday evening

Rarely do I make a post as informal/colloquial as this, but tonight’s an exception. Call it gushing. Call it whatever you want. I’m kind of confused myself so whatever.

Honestly I thought with Visanne I would have 0 libido. After all, it’s a hormone suppressor. And for a month or so I completely stopped having crushes, stopped feeling a gush of excitement and exhilaration every time I talk to/see someone hot.

So I’m really confused now. I was kind of happy that my meds would suppress my hormones as I find my fleeting feelings for other people a great distraction. Like, there’s so much to do and so little time; I definitely do not have the time to be infatuated with another person.

Then, I saw him. I used to scoff at the idea of “love at first sight”; it’s not wrong to do that, but LUST at first sight is very much real. I suppose it’s because I knew getting a relationship before finishing IBs was not allowed so I never viewed guys around me with the intention of picking out a mate (with an exception of 1-2 guys, but I’ve completely moved on); now that I am free to do whatever I want, I’ve been noticing the physical aspect of REAL PEOPLE a lot more lately. Like the general vibe, the smile, all that. And this has led to the whole discovery of physical attraction (which I am starting to understand). Anyway, back to my point, I saw this guy on Instagram who currently studies at UCL, and now I am really attracted. I think he’s 1 year older than me (starting his undergrad year 3 next year). He’s not even THAT good-looking, objectively speaking, but it’s something about his slightly tanned Hawaiian looks that really gets me. That slightly cheeky grin. The fact that he plays a racquet sport (not going to reveal which lest he chances upon this post which is pretty much impossible but still there’s a risk), comes from Eton (boy, I would love to date an Etonian/Harrovian/Westminister kid. Not an elitist, it’s just that it would be nice to date someone brought up as a gentleman), and is half (what I presume is) Chinese (which means he won’t think that my asian heritage would dilute his bloodline). Yet, I know nothing about him. Like, literally nothing. I’m trying to tap my UCL contacts to see if anyone knows him. I desperately need his horoscope. I will definitely update this post once I find out. (Geez, did I just dedicate a post to a random guy I find physically attractive) UPDATE: We are not horoscopally compatible romantically. Using my superior deduction skills (and research skills), he must be either a Virgo/Libra, both of which are not natural romantic matches. Which means given my mediocre looks, he is unlikely to be attracted to my personality.

Sadly, with crushes comes the whole inferiority complex thing which I’m not going to delve into because 1) I’ve already done so in a previous post and 2) It’s just a feeling like nags me; delving into it will force me to inspect my insecurities even more closely which makes me feel worse about myself. Keep this post lighthearted, yeah?

I’m also a bit disappointed to not have started learning tennis earlier (always wanted to learn it but parents felt it would make me bulk up) as now I feel too insecure to join the tennis club (hint hint hint) and to make friends with tennis players and join their socials and stuff. It’s tough man; sometimes I feel it’s much easier to join the chocolate/environmental/harry potter/women in finance society but joining a sport is important. And I really love WATCHING sports so I think only in a sports club will I find people with the same passion for sports as I have (i.e real madrid fans)

I’m gonna stop here tonight. Friends reading this, I’m really sorry but if I’m still infatuated with him the next time we meet, you might get a phone shoved under your face.









of my soul


Broken into pieces

Threatening to break.





under my bed

haunting me.

I want to say “I won’t break”.

A pat on the shoulder and everything’s alright

But it’s not true

I’m tired of holding myself together.

I’m tired of seeing how happy other people are.

Tired of being let down.




My thoughts are in a mess

Forget “equilibrium”, how precarious it is.

Easily tipped, like a glass of water

I’m tired of stress

Tired of tears.

Tired of anger.


Of feelings


Tired of being affected by the little things.


F*** life, sometimes I don’t want to live anymore.

It’s a thought that just washes over you, a sudden motivation, drive, to not exist.

A thought that comes too easily, too frequently, too enticingly.

But it’s a thought that doesn’t hold water, thank God for rationality that tells me what I’m thinking is completely nonsensical.

I’m putting this picture here, to remind myself if these thoughts drop by again.


I can’t just give up because someone made me upset. Even if they make me feel useless, make me feel used, make me feel like there’s always a dark cloud hanging by.

So f****** tired of everything. Maybe tomorrow will be better.





Deleting all social media except for WeChat as it’s a communication tool for me. I need time away from it all.