This is going to be quick,
but thanks to my being on Windows 7,
not only have the damn updates slowed me down much longer than I would've liked,
but with the Littlest Dictator being insistent that I play with her RIGHT NOW,
I'm worried I might not be able to get this out before I head out.
So my wife hit me today.
Not a gentle tap,
and not in jest.
In anger, and she kicked me.
With almost full force,
while the baby was lying down with me.
She was already in a bad mood,
but what apparently tipped her over the edge,
was when we disagreed on the date an event happened,
and then I realized that she was right.
And she fucking kicked me.
If she's hit a joint,
I could've been seriously injured.
Sure I work out,
and in a proper fight,
there'd be no contest.
But there's never going to be a proper fight.
And she chose the moment when I was with the baby and unable to even defend myself.
I doubt this will be a regular thing.
I doubt it will ever happen again.
But I feel the need to document this.
I've seen too many instances of men being abused,
and having either people not believe them
because they were so much bigger than the women who hit them,
or endure ridicule if it turned out to be true.
Damned either way.
This post will allow me to at least reassure myself that I've documented it.
I'm sure it'll never happen again.
A once-off.
But you know, just in case.
Well enough of that.
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Swallow
I'll take the resentment. All of it.
It might even bring us to and over the tipping point. But I'll take it.
For both of them,
but especially our baby.
She deserves so much better,
and right now,
we're on the path downhill,
when we should be heading upwards.
I've vacillated between rage and resentment and acceptance.
She'll never truly understand.
Not really.
I can't spend all day every single day helping her out with the baby.
It's hard as hell,
and ours is more than a handful.
She's a legit hyperactive kid.
But the money's running out.
I can't spend two-three hours in the morning,
then afternoon,
then another few hours in the evening
helping to look after her
and then try to squeeze what little time I have left to work out
and do my work.
The fatigue gets to me every time.
Usually after a few days,
sometimes a week or more if I really push it.
But the debt is always paid back,
and the longer I hold it off,
the bigger the debt.
Add to that my existing problems with fatigue,
and it's a really toxic mix.
And she doesn't get it.
When I finally collapse,
she looks at it as if I'm being fucking lazy.
The derogatory remarks.
They bite each time.
Anyway.
I can handle weekends,
and the odd day of helping out more than I'm usually able to during a work day.
But we're already running out of money.
I don't know if my ideas are going to take off.
Definitely not going to be able to get a job any time soon.
And hell,
even when I had a good paying job,
the demands she made of me to help out make it impossible to work
unless I'm in the office every day... which I can't fucking stand.
Financially, we're at the brink.
I need to start making money. We need it.
She's in denial.
And it's clear as day to me that if she even somehow manages to
convince herself to work...
she'll eventually resent me for not working,
even if it's obvious I can't get a job.
Why?
If you're not Chinese or White in Singapore,
then it's extremely difficult to get a job.
Extremely.
You can argue with others about racism
and the extent of its reach in Singapore,
but that's a fact.
Anecdotal fact of course.
No proper studies on the effects of racism on minorities in Singapore.
Despite all the race-focused policies.
Funny that, isn't it?
Anyway, I need to get back to the grind.
Or try to.
I'll take the resentment. All of it.
But my baby will get a good, decent life even if it fucking kills me and I die alone and lonely in a hole somewhere without warmth.
Well enough of that.
It might even bring us to and over the tipping point. But I'll take it.
For both of them,
but especially our baby.
She deserves so much better,
and right now,
we're on the path downhill,
when we should be heading upwards.
I've vacillated between rage and resentment and acceptance.
She'll never truly understand.
Not really.
I can't spend all day every single day helping her out with the baby.
It's hard as hell,
and ours is more than a handful.
She's a legit hyperactive kid.
But the money's running out.
I can't spend two-three hours in the morning,
then afternoon,
then another few hours in the evening
helping to look after her
and then try to squeeze what little time I have left to work out
and do my work.
The fatigue gets to me every time.
Usually after a few days,
sometimes a week or more if I really push it.
But the debt is always paid back,
and the longer I hold it off,
the bigger the debt.
Add to that my existing problems with fatigue,
and it's a really toxic mix.
And she doesn't get it.
When I finally collapse,
she looks at it as if I'm being fucking lazy.
The derogatory remarks.
They bite each time.
Anyway.
I can handle weekends,
and the odd day of helping out more than I'm usually able to during a work day.
But we're already running out of money.
I don't know if my ideas are going to take off.
Definitely not going to be able to get a job any time soon.
And hell,
even when I had a good paying job,
the demands she made of me to help out make it impossible to work
unless I'm in the office every day... which I can't fucking stand.
Financially, we're at the brink.
I need to start making money. We need it.
She's in denial.
And it's clear as day to me that if she even somehow manages to
convince herself to work...
she'll eventually resent me for not working,
even if it's obvious I can't get a job.
Why?
If you're not Chinese or White in Singapore,
then it's extremely difficult to get a job.
Extremely.
You can argue with others about racism
and the extent of its reach in Singapore,
but that's a fact.
Anecdotal fact of course.
No proper studies on the effects of racism on minorities in Singapore.
Despite all the race-focused policies.
Funny that, isn't it?
Anyway, I need to get back to the grind.
Or try to.
I'll take the resentment. All of it.
But my baby will get a good, decent life even if it fucking kills me and I die alone and lonely in a hole somewhere without warmth.
Well enough of that.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Anniversary
So before I get into the darker part of my thoughts,
I need to get this out of the way.
I'm fucked.
Only remembered our anniversary yesterday.
And it's fucking today.
And you know what's the really fucked up part?
It makes me even more pissed off
that I haven't even had the time to even think about it.
In the mad rush to try and find some
goddamn way to make money...
some way,
and getting constantly interrupted for hours daily...
I finally allowed an important day to just creep up on me.
God-fucking-dammit.
And we're struggling for money now,
so it's not as simple as ordering flowers and going out
and getting stuff.
This requires careful planning.
And besides,
even when I had money,
it always takes me ages to decide on something meaningful.
Now, on to the darker areas!
I'm tired. As usual.
So fucking tired.
I can see the disdain she has for any ideas
I come up with to earn money.
It's like the only real
way she sees is for my to get a typical job.
Never mind the fact that once we get an apartment,
we'll be locked into a cycle of debt,
and at the age of 34
and being non-Chinese or White in Singapore,
it's highly unlikely I'm going to be able to
climb up the corporate ladder much further.
Oh yeah,
and if I do get a typical job,
I'll end up being resented because hey,
who's helping her with the baby?
She forgets the hours and hours
I spend helping out.
Every fucking day,
throughout the whole day.
I've had her minimise my time to just a few minutes a day.
Don't get me wrong,
I love spending time with the baby,
I really do.
But. We. Need. Money.
She can't seem to grasp this basic concept.
Not really.
Personally I can't stay in an office.
Head in to work in the morning,
then leave in the evening. Every day.
Can't do it.
I had really sweet gigs,
where I could earn a lot
by working mainly from home.
I needed it.
I needed to not be in the office.
But she won't allow me to be left alone
to actually do some work.
Time and again I keep getting interrupted.
And she's so fucking defensive that
talking with her...
trying to reason with her is as exhausting as climbing a mountain.
And even if I succeed in convincing her
that I need TIME TO DO FUCKING WORK,
she just reverts to her old self a little while later,
claiming that because she sees me in the house,
she can't help tapping on me for help.
THROUGHOUT THE FUCKING DAY.
A big part of my losing my last two jobs was due
to my not being able to actually do my job.
From short toilet breaks that keep getting drawn out,
to accompanying her in putting the baby to sleep,
which can sometimes take an hour or two,
to just looking after her while she cooks or cleans.
Or sometimes just when she wants to rest.
I get that she needs help.
But the ship is sinking and it needs to be fixed.
The ship can be clean as a whistle,
with every little cup and saucer in its proper place,
and it'll be for nothing if it eventually sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
I NEED TO WORK.
So here I am now,
in Korea,
trying to get minor side projects off the ground
to earn SOME MONEY.
And some days I don't even have the fucking time
to complete a blog post. Not even five minutes.
Oh yea and the hypocrisy infuriates me sometimes.
She gets so fucking annoyed with me and the baby,
when she's writing something to a friend either on Facebook or
on the phone.
Hell, she'll even ignore me mid-sentence
to look at some Instagram post or to respond to a friend.
But when I'm trying to fucking WORK...
trying to respond to a client's query,
or to do the necessary research...
nope.
That's not the same thing of course.
She sees absolutely no problem in interrupting me.
So yea...
I don't know if my projects will work.
I don't know if the designs will sell.
But holy shit if we do nothing,
we'll gain nothing.
Why is that so hard to understand?
We had enough money to last a year,
and now we'll barely have enough for a month
when we're back in Singapore.
And the scary thing is,
I'm pretty sure she doesn't get even this.
Only choice is to keep moving,
even if it means drowning in the process.
Well enough of that.
I need to get this out of the way.
I'm fucked.
Only remembered our anniversary yesterday.
And it's fucking today.
And you know what's the really fucked up part?
It makes me even more pissed off
that I haven't even had the time to even think about it.
In the mad rush to try and find some
goddamn way to make money...
some way,
and getting constantly interrupted for hours daily...
I finally allowed an important day to just creep up on me.
God-fucking-dammit.
And we're struggling for money now,
so it's not as simple as ordering flowers and going out
and getting stuff.
This requires careful planning.
And besides,
even when I had money,
it always takes me ages to decide on something meaningful.
Now, on to the darker areas!
I'm tired. As usual.
So fucking tired.
I can see the disdain she has for any ideas
I come up with to earn money.
It's like the only real
way she sees is for my to get a typical job.
Never mind the fact that once we get an apartment,
we'll be locked into a cycle of debt,
and at the age of 34
and being non-Chinese or White in Singapore,
it's highly unlikely I'm going to be able to
climb up the corporate ladder much further.
Oh yeah,
and if I do get a typical job,
I'll end up being resented because hey,
who's helping her with the baby?
She forgets the hours and hours
I spend helping out.
Every fucking day,
throughout the whole day.
I've had her minimise my time to just a few minutes a day.
Don't get me wrong,
I love spending time with the baby,
I really do.
But. We. Need. Money.
She can't seem to grasp this basic concept.
Not really.
Personally I can't stay in an office.
Head in to work in the morning,
then leave in the evening. Every day.
Can't do it.
I had really sweet gigs,
where I could earn a lot
by working mainly from home.
I needed it.
I needed to not be in the office.
But she won't allow me to be left alone
to actually do some work.
Time and again I keep getting interrupted.
And she's so fucking defensive that
talking with her...
trying to reason with her is as exhausting as climbing a mountain.
And even if I succeed in convincing her
that I need TIME TO DO FUCKING WORK,
she just reverts to her old self a little while later,
claiming that because she sees me in the house,
she can't help tapping on me for help.
THROUGHOUT THE FUCKING DAY.
A big part of my losing my last two jobs was due
to my not being able to actually do my job.
From short toilet breaks that keep getting drawn out,
to accompanying her in putting the baby to sleep,
which can sometimes take an hour or two,
to just looking after her while she cooks or cleans.
Or sometimes just when she wants to rest.
I get that she needs help.
But the ship is sinking and it needs to be fixed.
The ship can be clean as a whistle,
with every little cup and saucer in its proper place,
and it'll be for nothing if it eventually sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
I NEED TO WORK.
So here I am now,
in Korea,
trying to get minor side projects off the ground
to earn SOME MONEY.
And some days I don't even have the fucking time
to complete a blog post. Not even five minutes.
Oh yea and the hypocrisy infuriates me sometimes.
She gets so fucking annoyed with me and the baby,
when she's writing something to a friend either on Facebook or
on the phone.
Hell, she'll even ignore me mid-sentence
to look at some Instagram post or to respond to a friend.
But when I'm trying to fucking WORK...
trying to respond to a client's query,
or to do the necessary research...
nope.
That's not the same thing of course.
She sees absolutely no problem in interrupting me.
So yea...
I don't know if my projects will work.
I don't know if the designs will sell.
But holy shit if we do nothing,
we'll gain nothing.
Why is that so hard to understand?
We had enough money to last a year,
and now we'll barely have enough for a month
when we're back in Singapore.
And the scary thing is,
I'm pretty sure she doesn't get even this.
Only choice is to keep moving,
even if it means drowning in the process.
Well enough of that.
Sunday, November 27, 2016
4th Day in Paradise
And I should be feeling awesome.
If not incredibly relaxed,
at the very least filled with excitement
at the potential of what
the following days could bring.
But yep,
you guessed it.
Nope.
The fourth morning,
and there's a sadness in me
that won't go away.
It's more than just one incident or one thing or one person.
It's more than just my own wife
putting down my efforts and suggestions
at how to make a living,
or even just to make a small bit of money first.
I'd accept constructive criticism.
But the answer in the form of a drawn out 'I don't knowwww'
or 'It doesn't feel like it could work'
does not help in any way.
And I keep thinking of the smiling racists in Singapore.
They smile at you,
speak nicely with you,
even hang out with you from time to time.
But behind your back,
and when it comes to the things that really matter
like jobs and education,
you get the short end of the stick because of who you are.
I call them the smiling racists,
because they'll smile warmly,
as they float in their boats, both big and small...
while you're slowly sinking in the water,
hindering - gently, oh ever so gently but firmly - your efforts to remain afloat.
They smile as you and your family sink to the bottom of the ocean.
And then they pat themselves on the back
thinking about what kind, decent human being they are.
Fuck them.
With the internet being what it is,
there are more options now.
I'll find a way,
like I always do.
Because I don't have a choice.
Yesterday I lost my shit
when a dog's snout touched my daughter.
I cursed and screamed and kicked trees,
and would probably have hurt the two idiot women
who didn't pull on the leash fast enough
as they were chatting about whatever inane things people like that chat about.
Thing is,
these things happen.
And I should've been more careful.
But I just lost my temper,
as Jenia took her away.
That was unacceptable.
I mean, what kind of message does that send the baby?
Hell, she might even have thought that I was upset with her.
I wanted to do a reboot,
like you do when you've made a horrible mistake.
And I realized that I need to train myself to avoid shouting and cursing.
Sure it's all fun and jokes,
until you almost lose control,
and the dark side of you comes out.
The baby deserves more than that.
I need to train myself on language,
and on focusing on the solution first.
The anger will subside.
And if action needs to be taken,
I'll take it.
But not out of anger.
Even if there's a chance that
I'd feel more anger later for not doing something about it then,
I could always file it away as a contingency for next time,
the way I do for certain incidents that I've had to just let go,
because they took me by surprise.
File away a template.
Keep it ready.
Just in case.
You can't win every single battle.
It's 8am,
and I'm in the hall and the sun is bright in between two tall buildings outside the window.
The whole room is now filled with a bright, soft glow.
I'd like to think that it's a sign.
There's more things of course.
The fact that I feel left out of conversations
with my wife's side of the family.
The exhaustion that comes with looking after a truly hyperactive baby.
You can't get anything done,
and if you do,
your wife resents you for it,
because she feels like she needed your help with the baby.
I still need to earn money.
I'm still trying to shake off the feeling of
fucking racists not accepting the way I speak,
my command of English.
As if my brown skin is supposed to produce an accent or something.
Or maybe I shouldn't be using some of the slang that 'Westerners' use.
I need to shake that off.
Fuck every single one of them.
Today I'll pick a gym and get my peanut butter.
Yes, I realize that sounds a little funny.
Tomorrow my new routine begins.
There's be plenty of things to be depressed about,
but for now, I've got shit to do.
Let's hope for a productive day.
Well enough of that.
If not incredibly relaxed,
at the very least filled with excitement
at the potential of what
the following days could bring.
But yep,
you guessed it.
Nope.
The fourth morning,
and there's a sadness in me
that won't go away.
It's more than just one incident or one thing or one person.
It's more than just my own wife
putting down my efforts and suggestions
at how to make a living,
or even just to make a small bit of money first.
I'd accept constructive criticism.
But the answer in the form of a drawn out 'I don't knowwww'
or 'It doesn't feel like it could work'
does not help in any way.
And I keep thinking of the smiling racists in Singapore.
They smile at you,
speak nicely with you,
even hang out with you from time to time.
But behind your back,
and when it comes to the things that really matter
like jobs and education,
you get the short end of the stick because of who you are.
I call them the smiling racists,
because they'll smile warmly,
as they float in their boats, both big and small...
while you're slowly sinking in the water,
hindering - gently, oh ever so gently but firmly - your efforts to remain afloat.
They smile as you and your family sink to the bottom of the ocean.
And then they pat themselves on the back
thinking about what kind, decent human being they are.
Fuck them.
With the internet being what it is,
there are more options now.
I'll find a way,
like I always do.
Because I don't have a choice.
Yesterday I lost my shit
when a dog's snout touched my daughter.
I cursed and screamed and kicked trees,
and would probably have hurt the two idiot women
who didn't pull on the leash fast enough
as they were chatting about whatever inane things people like that chat about.
Thing is,
these things happen.
And I should've been more careful.
But I just lost my temper,
as Jenia took her away.
That was unacceptable.
I mean, what kind of message does that send the baby?
Hell, she might even have thought that I was upset with her.
I wanted to do a reboot,
like you do when you've made a horrible mistake.
And I realized that I need to train myself to avoid shouting and cursing.
Sure it's all fun and jokes,
until you almost lose control,
and the dark side of you comes out.
The baby deserves more than that.
I need to train myself on language,
and on focusing on the solution first.
The anger will subside.
And if action needs to be taken,
I'll take it.
But not out of anger.
Even if there's a chance that
I'd feel more anger later for not doing something about it then,
I could always file it away as a contingency for next time,
the way I do for certain incidents that I've had to just let go,
because they took me by surprise.
File away a template.
Keep it ready.
Just in case.
You can't win every single battle.
It's 8am,
and I'm in the hall and the sun is bright in between two tall buildings outside the window.
The whole room is now filled with a bright, soft glow.
I'd like to think that it's a sign.
There's more things of course.
The fact that I feel left out of conversations
with my wife's side of the family.
The exhaustion that comes with looking after a truly hyperactive baby.
You can't get anything done,
and if you do,
your wife resents you for it,
because she feels like she needed your help with the baby.
I still need to earn money.
I'm still trying to shake off the feeling of
fucking racists not accepting the way I speak,
my command of English.
As if my brown skin is supposed to produce an accent or something.
Or maybe I shouldn't be using some of the slang that 'Westerners' use.
I need to shake that off.
Fuck every single one of them.
Today I'll pick a gym and get my peanut butter.
Yes, I realize that sounds a little funny.
Tomorrow my new routine begins.
There's be plenty of things to be depressed about,
but for now, I've got shit to do.
Let's hope for a productive day.
Well enough of that.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Madness
Of all the shit that's happening right now,
especially just two days before our 10-hour flight,
this had to happen NOW.
Motherfucker.
I've just come to the realization that
my own mother can't be trusted to look after my 2 year-old daughter.
Is it because she's a narcissist?
Plain evil?
Does she want extra money?
I have no idea.
I really don't, but the results are always the same:
She ends up doing the things she wants to do,
even if these things harm others.
She's got a million excuses.
The reasons always change.
But the actions...
the things that she's been expressly forbidden from doing...
she'd do.
Growing up,
she'd randomly take my things
and either move them,
hide them,
or just straight up throw them away.
Once, she even took legal documents for a court case,
and just randomly placed them in a drawer
that nobody would think to look in for them.
I only found out because luckily,
I'd wanted to have a look at them right after she moved them.
At first she denied it,
then admitted moving them.
Couldn't believe my eyes when I saw where she'd placed them.
You'd spend hours looking for those important documents.
Oh yea,
and she had a habit of moving my shit,
then forgetting where she moved them to.
So if I'd taken too long to look for those documents,
I would've been well and truly fucked.
Which almost happened,
when SHE TOOK THE FUCKING DOCUMENTS
OUT OF MY BAG WITHOUT TELLING ME,
and only remembered when we were in court,
and I had to produce those documents.
But all of that pales in comparison
to the line she's crossed multiple times.
My wife has a mild allergy to certain foods,
including stuff that has a lot of protein.
Looks like my daughter has them too.
So we avoid giving her too much protein-heavy foods,
and other types of snacks,
since she's had allergic reactions before in the form of itchy rashes.
I also avoid giving her anything with sugar.
She gets enough of that in natural foods,
and doesn't need the problems that come with it.
There'll be enough of it later down the road.
So we tell my mom the reasons why
certain foods should not be given to our daughter.
Turns out,
she's been giving her those foods on the sly.
Then turns around and wonders why I'm livid.
I get accidentally doing it the first time.
But a second time, secretly in the bedroom?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I'd later find out that she'd continued to do it.
Why? Man, your guess is as good as mine.
Now, I haven't been the perfect son,
hell, far from it.
In fact, it's a source of shame for me that
nearly every conversation I have with my mom
turns into a goddamn argument.
So before our trip and long stay overseas,
I wanted to make amends.
Maybe time away from her would be good.
And just two days away,
my daughter gets a rash on her neck.
Could've been an insect bite, could be an allergic reaction,
and could be an infection like the last time.
And if it's an infection,
we'd need to visit the doctor ASAP and get the medication before the flight.
Here's the fucked up part:
We couldn't just eliminate the allergic thing,
because of my mom's inexplicable desire to feed her the crap she wants to feed her.
It's not like my daughter was even aware of the existence of that crap.
Nope.
SHE FUCKING INTRODUCES IT TO HER.
The rest of the family is mindful.
But for some insane reason, not her.
So I ask her if she'd fed her biscuits.
Denial.
So I ask again (the truth tends to come out after much prodding).
Denial.
OK I try to explain to her that it could be an allergic reaction,
so I need to know exactly what she fed her,
so we'll know what to do.
She cuts me off repeatedly,
alternating between saying it's an insect bite and that she didn't give her any biscuits.
I try to know what she fed her.
Nope.
No biscuits.
What about other foods?
It's an insect bite. And no biscuits.
Over and over again like a broken fucking record.
WHAT ABOUT OTHER FOODS.
And this is when she too begins to raise her voice,
looking to others to support her.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
As usual,
she flat out refuses to answer a basic simple question,
even if it means that treatment for my daughter could be delayed
and she has to suffer for it.
She is two years old.
And my mom is doing what? To prove a fucking point?
Hell, if she were doing it for money or revenge, at least it would make some sense.
But I have no fucking clue.
So there we are,
arguing in front of my daughter,
as I try to get my wife to bring her into the room.
AND STILL I DON'T HAVE THE ANSWER.
She just refuses to answer the question.
Over and over again.
After multiple times,
finally, one by one the answers are dragged out.
Painfully slowly.
At first, she'd answered with 'Not biscuits'.
And then came 'Just bread'.
More prodding.
'Rice'.
'The dish my wife prepared specifically for my daughter'.
'Potato from the food stall near the playground (which she was NOT supposed to fucking do)'
And then finally... 'Eggs'.
She'd had a mild allergic reaction to eggs like, one or two days before,
because she had too much,
and if you add eggs now,
she'd likely get another reaction.
It took a lot of shouting,
and lot threatening,
prodding,
back and forth to get a simple fucking answer.
Even when it involved the well-being of her granddaughter.
If we were already in the air,
and it turns out that she has an infection,
being away from Singapore is a BAD THING,
especially since we're traveling to a place where
not too many people speak English,
including the doctors.
Why hide that?
Hell, why the opposition to the very notion
that she could be having an allergic reaction?
What the fuck?
And even now,
there could've been other foods
she'd given her, including biscuits that she'd had an allergic reaction to before.
That's when it hit me.
She can't be trusted.
She just can't.
Whatever the reasons for her actions,
and no matter how many times she's told of why
certain things should not be done,
the results are always the same:
She does what she wants.
Even when it means her granddaughter suffers.
She can't be trusted to be alone with my child.
I have very little doubt she'll play the victim,
and a different kind of story will make its way
to my relatives.
But I can no longer trust her.
I can't even trust that she will change.
Like back when I was growing up,
she'd always say that she wouldn't do it again.
Then time would pass.
Sometimes a week. Sometimes a month or more.
And she'd do the exact same thing.
But she'd do it only when I wasn't around.
Then came the time when I was in between jobs or something,
because I remember being at home a lot.
At the very least,
she wouldn't move my things when I'm around, right?
Nope.
She waited until I was asleep,
and proceeded to do the exact same thing. AGAIN.
No.
It always ends up escalating.
Always.
I can't take the risk anymore.
I will never allow her to be alone with my daughter for extended periods.
I might go to the bathroom,
or send an email.
And then I'll head back.
Or if we need a sitter,
I'll make sure that someone else is with her throughout the time.
She cannot be trusted to be alone with my daughter.
And it is her doing.
I will never trust her again.
And that is a really fucked up thing to have to say about your own mother.
Well enough of that.
especially just two days before our 10-hour flight,
this had to happen NOW.
Motherfucker.
I've just come to the realization that
my own mother can't be trusted to look after my 2 year-old daughter.
Is it because she's a narcissist?
Plain evil?
Does she want extra money?
I have no idea.
I really don't, but the results are always the same:
She ends up doing the things she wants to do,
even if these things harm others.
She's got a million excuses.
The reasons always change.
But the actions...
the things that she's been expressly forbidden from doing...
she'd do.
Growing up,
she'd randomly take my things
and either move them,
hide them,
or just straight up throw them away.
Once, she even took legal documents for a court case,
and just randomly placed them in a drawer
that nobody would think to look in for them.
I only found out because luckily,
I'd wanted to have a look at them right after she moved them.
At first she denied it,
then admitted moving them.
Couldn't believe my eyes when I saw where she'd placed them.
You'd spend hours looking for those important documents.
Oh yea,
and she had a habit of moving my shit,
then forgetting where she moved them to.
So if I'd taken too long to look for those documents,
I would've been well and truly fucked.
Which almost happened,
when SHE TOOK THE FUCKING DOCUMENTS
OUT OF MY BAG WITHOUT TELLING ME,
and only remembered when we were in court,
and I had to produce those documents.
But all of that pales in comparison
to the line she's crossed multiple times.
My wife has a mild allergy to certain foods,
including stuff that has a lot of protein.
Looks like my daughter has them too.
So we avoid giving her too much protein-heavy foods,
and other types of snacks,
since she's had allergic reactions before in the form of itchy rashes.
I also avoid giving her anything with sugar.
She gets enough of that in natural foods,
and doesn't need the problems that come with it.
There'll be enough of it later down the road.
So we tell my mom the reasons why
certain foods should not be given to our daughter.
Turns out,
she's been giving her those foods on the sly.
Then turns around and wonders why I'm livid.
I get accidentally doing it the first time.
But a second time, secretly in the bedroom?
What the hell is wrong with you?
I'd later find out that she'd continued to do it.
Why? Man, your guess is as good as mine.
Now, I haven't been the perfect son,
hell, far from it.
In fact, it's a source of shame for me that
nearly every conversation I have with my mom
turns into a goddamn argument.
So before our trip and long stay overseas,
I wanted to make amends.
Maybe time away from her would be good.
And just two days away,
my daughter gets a rash on her neck.
Could've been an insect bite, could be an allergic reaction,
and could be an infection like the last time.
And if it's an infection,
we'd need to visit the doctor ASAP and get the medication before the flight.
Here's the fucked up part:
We couldn't just eliminate the allergic thing,
because of my mom's inexplicable desire to feed her the crap she wants to feed her.
It's not like my daughter was even aware of the existence of that crap.
Nope.
SHE FUCKING INTRODUCES IT TO HER.
The rest of the family is mindful.
But for some insane reason, not her.
So I ask her if she'd fed her biscuits.
Denial.
So I ask again (the truth tends to come out after much prodding).
Denial.
OK I try to explain to her that it could be an allergic reaction,
so I need to know exactly what she fed her,
so we'll know what to do.
She cuts me off repeatedly,
alternating between saying it's an insect bite and that she didn't give her any biscuits.
I try to know what she fed her.
Nope.
No biscuits.
What about other foods?
It's an insect bite. And no biscuits.
Over and over again like a broken fucking record.
WHAT ABOUT OTHER FOODS.
And this is when she too begins to raise her voice,
looking to others to support her.
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
As usual,
she flat out refuses to answer a basic simple question,
even if it means that treatment for my daughter could be delayed
and she has to suffer for it.
She is two years old.
And my mom is doing what? To prove a fucking point?
Hell, if she were doing it for money or revenge, at least it would make some sense.
But I have no fucking clue.
So there we are,
arguing in front of my daughter,
as I try to get my wife to bring her into the room.
AND STILL I DON'T HAVE THE ANSWER.
She just refuses to answer the question.
Over and over again.
After multiple times,
finally, one by one the answers are dragged out.
Painfully slowly.
At first, she'd answered with 'Not biscuits'.
And then came 'Just bread'.
More prodding.
'Rice'.
'The dish my wife prepared specifically for my daughter'.
'Potato from the food stall near the playground (which she was NOT supposed to fucking do)'
And then finally... 'Eggs'.
She'd had a mild allergic reaction to eggs like, one or two days before,
because she had too much,
and if you add eggs now,
she'd likely get another reaction.
It took a lot of shouting,
and lot threatening,
prodding,
back and forth to get a simple fucking answer.
Even when it involved the well-being of her granddaughter.
If we were already in the air,
and it turns out that she has an infection,
being away from Singapore is a BAD THING,
especially since we're traveling to a place where
not too many people speak English,
including the doctors.
Why hide that?
Hell, why the opposition to the very notion
that she could be having an allergic reaction?
What the fuck?
And even now,
there could've been other foods
she'd given her, including biscuits that she'd had an allergic reaction to before.
That's when it hit me.
She can't be trusted.
She just can't.
Whatever the reasons for her actions,
and no matter how many times she's told of why
certain things should not be done,
the results are always the same:
She does what she wants.
Even when it means her granddaughter suffers.
She can't be trusted to be alone with my child.
I have very little doubt she'll play the victim,
and a different kind of story will make its way
to my relatives.
But I can no longer trust her.
I can't even trust that she will change.
Like back when I was growing up,
she'd always say that she wouldn't do it again.
Then time would pass.
Sometimes a week. Sometimes a month or more.
And she'd do the exact same thing.
But she'd do it only when I wasn't around.
Then came the time when I was in between jobs or something,
because I remember being at home a lot.
At the very least,
she wouldn't move my things when I'm around, right?
Nope.
She waited until I was asleep,
and proceeded to do the exact same thing. AGAIN.
No.
It always ends up escalating.
Always.
I can't take the risk anymore.
I will never allow her to be alone with my daughter for extended periods.
I might go to the bathroom,
or send an email.
And then I'll head back.
Or if we need a sitter,
I'll make sure that someone else is with her throughout the time.
She cannot be trusted to be alone with my daughter.
And it is her doing.
I will never trust her again.
And that is a really fucked up thing to have to say about your own mother.
Well enough of that.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Perpetual Loop
It's 5.47pm,
and the sky is grey.
The trees and buildings and grass look wet and clean and fresh.
Wish I could say the same for myself.
For the past couple of years,
I've tired pretty easily.
And every once in a while, when I don't get enough sleep
- and it seems like I need more than the average person -
I get a crippling headache that lasts for hours.
I don't know what the problem is,
and I can't afford the tests to find out.
A part of me things it's because of my weight,
so that's one of the reasons I'm desperately - fucking desperately! - trying to lose weight.
Maybe the cause of the snoring is also the cause of my perpetual fatigue.
Fortunately, I've been able to land relatively well-paying gigs
that don't require a lot of physical labour and allow me to work from home a lot of the time.
But here's the thing though,
I HAVE to work.
We leave for Korea in about five days,
and I'm unemployed.
I mean sure, we've talked about starting a business,
and even her mom has decided to invest.
I'm worried. Very worried.
And I'm fairly certain she doesn't share my concerns.
No matter how many times I tell her
that I've got a fatigue problem,
no matter how many times I tell her that during the weekday,
during office hours,
I HAVE to fucking work,
it seems like nothing really gets through to her.
Not really.
We've even argued about it a few times.
It's pretty clear that she doesn't think it's so much
as a fatigue problem as it is my being lazy.
And on top of this,
she expects me to help out with the baby constantly throughout the day.
I've explained again and again,
I can't do that,
and work at the same time.
She kind of phases out the multiple times throughout the day
that I help her out.
It's like nothing ever happened.
To her,
even if I'd helped out for many hours on and off
throughout the day,
all she can remember is how I helped out just a little bit,
and all she can focus on is how tired she is looking after the baby.
She says she gets it.
Oh yes, and she gets very emotional about it, too.
She absolutely gets it.
Yep.
And nothing changes.
It might change for a day or two,
but she always reverts.
Always.
She can't put herself in other people's shoes,
not really.
Hell, she can crack a mean-spirited joke
and laugh about it,
but if you throw the same joke - and I mean the exact same one -
she gets upset,
not seeing how it affects other people.
Not really.
And if I were to start a business,
there is no doubt in my mind,
I'd have to dedicate even more time to that,
than I had to for my other previous jobs.
She says she gets it.
She fucking doesn't.
She does not.
Don't think she ever will.
It's like she's been living in bubble,
and now that she's out of it,
can't see the real world for what it is.
We're fucked.
We are well and truly fucked, and I don't know what to do.
She judges me when I'm on the internet watching a video
in between working.
She judges me when I'm resting.
And now that I'm unemployed,
she judges me for that, too.
And still I fucking try.
I'm on my goddamn hands and knees struggling against the fatigue
trying to ensure a good future for both of them,
all the while having her look over my shoulder,
making dismissive fucking comments.
If you ask her though,
she'll say she's supportive.
And then go back to putting me down.
I'll figure something out, I will.
It's hard to tune it out sometimes,
but for the time being,
that's exactly what I have to do.
Oh yea,
and if she were to ever come across this post,
the ONLY thing she'd take away from this,
is how it makes her look.
There will be zero reflection.
She is a fucking saint in her eyes.
And that's the really disappointing thing.
Well enough of that.
and the sky is grey.
The trees and buildings and grass look wet and clean and fresh.
Wish I could say the same for myself.
For the past couple of years,
I've tired pretty easily.
And every once in a while, when I don't get enough sleep
- and it seems like I need more than the average person -
I get a crippling headache that lasts for hours.
I don't know what the problem is,
and I can't afford the tests to find out.
A part of me things it's because of my weight,
so that's one of the reasons I'm desperately - fucking desperately! - trying to lose weight.
Maybe the cause of the snoring is also the cause of my perpetual fatigue.
Fortunately, I've been able to land relatively well-paying gigs
that don't require a lot of physical labour and allow me to work from home a lot of the time.
But here's the thing though,
I HAVE to work.
We leave for Korea in about five days,
and I'm unemployed.
I mean sure, we've talked about starting a business,
and even her mom has decided to invest.
I'm worried. Very worried.
And I'm fairly certain she doesn't share my concerns.
No matter how many times I tell her
that I've got a fatigue problem,
no matter how many times I tell her that during the weekday,
during office hours,
I HAVE to fucking work,
it seems like nothing really gets through to her.
Not really.
We've even argued about it a few times.
It's pretty clear that she doesn't think it's so much
as a fatigue problem as it is my being lazy.
And on top of this,
she expects me to help out with the baby constantly throughout the day.
I've explained again and again,
I can't do that,
and work at the same time.
She kind of phases out the multiple times throughout the day
that I help her out.
It's like nothing ever happened.
To her,
even if I'd helped out for many hours on and off
throughout the day,
all she can remember is how I helped out just a little bit,
and all she can focus on is how tired she is looking after the baby.
She says she gets it.
Oh yes, and she gets very emotional about it, too.
She absolutely gets it.
Yep.
And nothing changes.
It might change for a day or two,
but she always reverts.
Always.
She can't put herself in other people's shoes,
not really.
Hell, she can crack a mean-spirited joke
and laugh about it,
but if you throw the same joke - and I mean the exact same one -
she gets upset,
not seeing how it affects other people.
Not really.
And if I were to start a business,
there is no doubt in my mind,
I'd have to dedicate even more time to that,
than I had to for my other previous jobs.
She says she gets it.
She fucking doesn't.
She does not.
Don't think she ever will.
It's like she's been living in bubble,
and now that she's out of it,
can't see the real world for what it is.
We're fucked.
We are well and truly fucked, and I don't know what to do.
She judges me when I'm on the internet watching a video
in between working.
She judges me when I'm resting.
And now that I'm unemployed,
she judges me for that, too.
And still I fucking try.
I'm on my goddamn hands and knees struggling against the fatigue
trying to ensure a good future for both of them,
all the while having her look over my shoulder,
making dismissive fucking comments.
If you ask her though,
she'll say she's supportive.
And then go back to putting me down.
I'll figure something out, I will.
It's hard to tune it out sometimes,
but for the time being,
that's exactly what I have to do.
Oh yea,
and if she were to ever come across this post,
the ONLY thing she'd take away from this,
is how it makes her look.
There will be zero reflection.
She is a fucking saint in her eyes.
And that's the really disappointing thing.
Well enough of that.
Monday, October 24, 2016
Goddamn Racists
It's been a while since I've had a proper argument,
the kind that works your mind,
increases your intelligence.
The kind that forces you to think critically.
When you read article after article involving racism
and the short, racist comments and their responses,
it's easy to just sort of go with the flow.
Keep scrolling down until you see someone who
posts a response that articulates how you feel.
And that's a problem.
I should be able to articulate how I feel.
Depending on others - especially when I don't realize it - makes my mind weak.
Every once in a while I'll get upset at a comment,
and only realize how weak I am when I can't even come up
with a coherent counter-argument in my mind.
This shit takes practice.
I've got to take the same approach when it comes to working out my mind
as well as body.
*Looks down at body*
Goddammit. Looks like I've got a really long way to go.
But hey, the mountain isn't going to climb itself.
Oh yea and before I end this,
fuck the racists and bigots who are opposed to helping out refugees.
Especially the motherfucking faux liberals.
You are the Nazis and Nazi sympathisers.
You are the ones who turned the Jewish children back to be massacred.
You are the ones who support the killing of minorities in other countries,
who cheer the destruction of their homes and livelihoods.
You have existed for centuries and will continue to do so.
Sure your faces and ethnicities may change, but you've always been around.
Like Herpes.
You are the animals who bring the rest of us down.
And you will continue to be opposed.
Fuck all of you.
Well enough of that.
the kind that works your mind,
increases your intelligence.
The kind that forces you to think critically.
When you read article after article involving racism
and the short, racist comments and their responses,
it's easy to just sort of go with the flow.
Keep scrolling down until you see someone who
posts a response that articulates how you feel.
And that's a problem.
I should be able to articulate how I feel.
Depending on others - especially when I don't realize it - makes my mind weak.
Every once in a while I'll get upset at a comment,
and only realize how weak I am when I can't even come up
with a coherent counter-argument in my mind.
This shit takes practice.
I've got to take the same approach when it comes to working out my mind
as well as body.
*Looks down at body*
Goddammit. Looks like I've got a really long way to go.
But hey, the mountain isn't going to climb itself.
Oh yea and before I end this,
fuck the racists and bigots who are opposed to helping out refugees.
Especially the motherfucking faux liberals.
You are the Nazis and Nazi sympathisers.
You are the ones who turned the Jewish children back to be massacred.
You are the ones who support the killing of minorities in other countries,
who cheer the destruction of their homes and livelihoods.
You have existed for centuries and will continue to do so.
Sure your faces and ethnicities may change, but you've always been around.
Like Herpes.
You are the animals who bring the rest of us down.
And you will continue to be opposed.
Fuck all of you.
Well enough of that.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Arrogance
There was a time that I almost believed
my wife and daughter would never come across my blog.
Never read my thoughts.
So I could say what I felt at that moment...
even unreasonable, stupid shit.
This blog is a release valve.
But man, the arrogance of that thought, you know?
Thinking they'd never uncover this.
A part of me feels selfish, too.
My daughter when she's old enough should be able to see what her dad was really like.
His stupid and brilliant and angry thoughts.
All of it.
If either of them come across this, and have reached this far,
just know this: I love you both very much, I really do.
I may express anger and frustration in the posts that come before and after,
but nothing changes how I feel about you two.
I'd die for you.
And I mean every word.
Like any person,
I also evolve.
My opinion on something may change the following week, or month or year.
My hope is that I keep growing into a more decent, kind human being.
Keep getting better in mind and body.
Anyway, I should probably have written something more deep and moving.
But it's 7.23am, and I'm exhausted.
AND I have to hit the gym soon. I probably won't until later in the afternoon. Or evening.
The struggle goes on.
Well enough of that.
my wife and daughter would never come across my blog.
Never read my thoughts.
So I could say what I felt at that moment...
even unreasonable, stupid shit.
This blog is a release valve.
But man, the arrogance of that thought, you know?
Thinking they'd never uncover this.
A part of me feels selfish, too.
My daughter when she's old enough should be able to see what her dad was really like.
His stupid and brilliant and angry thoughts.
All of it.
If either of them come across this, and have reached this far,
just know this: I love you both very much, I really do.
I may express anger and frustration in the posts that come before and after,
but nothing changes how I feel about you two.
I'd die for you.
And I mean every word.
Like any person,
I also evolve.
My opinion on something may change the following week, or month or year.
My hope is that I keep growing into a more decent, kind human being.
Keep getting better in mind and body.
Anyway, I should probably have written something more deep and moving.
But it's 7.23am, and I'm exhausted.
AND I have to hit the gym soon. I probably won't until later in the afternoon. Or evening.
The struggle goes on.
Well enough of that.
Still Fucking Exhausted
There were a lot of things I wanted to write about.
From stupid, dangerous extremist, nationalist Indians
who love existing in their own goddamn echo chambers,
to the American election,
to the shit that's happening at my 'workplace'.
I say that because I'm now getting paid only by commission,
and the company continues to fuck up,
especially when it comes to preparing demos.
But right now I'm just exhausted.
34 years old. Holy shit.
Time really does fly.
Still forced to live with my parents.
None of my business ideas have really taken off,
and right now I'm too tired to actually take any meaningful steps forward.
Oh, and I'm still fat as fuck.
Trying to push myself as hard as I can before Korea to see what happens.
If I can lose a lot of weight in two weeks without even focused exercising,
like I did when I visited Australia,
I wonder what a focused approach for a whole month would result in.
Let's see what breaks first.
Well enough of that
From stupid, dangerous extremist, nationalist Indians
who love existing in their own goddamn echo chambers,
to the American election,
to the shit that's happening at my 'workplace'.
I say that because I'm now getting paid only by commission,
and the company continues to fuck up,
especially when it comes to preparing demos.
But right now I'm just exhausted.
34 years old. Holy shit.
Time really does fly.
Still forced to live with my parents.
None of my business ideas have really taken off,
and right now I'm too tired to actually take any meaningful steps forward.
Oh, and I'm still fat as fuck.
Trying to push myself as hard as I can before Korea to see what happens.
If I can lose a lot of weight in two weeks without even focused exercising,
like I did when I visited Australia,
I wonder what a focused approach for a whole month would result in.
Let's see what breaks first.
Well enough of that
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Trying to get Back on Track
It's 10.30am,
and my brain's still groggy. Vision still slightly blurry too.
Oh yea and I've got to go to the bathroom so bad.
The baby's just woken up,
and soon I won't have the time to write anything, so here goes.
Came across this article today:
I can just imagine the goddamn racists trying to explain away
her concerns,
using superficial arguments that totally disregard the main points she's trying to make.
It's basically people trying to argue why they
should be allowed to continue to dehumanise and mock the cultures of people
who have been historically and are currently still discriminated against.
There's a lot more I'd like to say, but there's no more time left.
Well enough of that.
Monday, August 8, 2016
Powerful GIS SaaS
Whoa.
Haven't felt this excited in ages.
It feels like the high I try to get every time I down multiple cups of coffee.
I've got yet another business idea,
and it is going to be MASSIVE.
The others are going to be put on the back-burner until I (try to) get this off the ground.
A powerful GIS SaaS that includes all the advanced functions you'd find
in the workhorse desktop programs like MapInfo and ArcGIS for Desktop.
It'll also include the data that you'd likely need,
from demographic to geographic and everything in between.
All of this. FOR FREE.
I'll be emulating the Zenefits model.
This has the potential to be a major game-changer and just putting together
the initial framework would likely cost tens of millions of dollars.
But it can work. I know it can.
Millions of dollars, man.
Of course there's a little voice deep in me...
calling out in a corner...
telling me that it's the realist.
My 'Common Sense'.
It won't work.
It won't work like all your other goddamn ideas.
But you know what?
I've come this far.
From earning almost nothing,
with people spitting on me,
looking down on me...
to earning a higher than the average university grad.
I've come this far.
What's a few more steps?
Well enough of that.
Haven't felt this excited in ages.
It feels like the high I try to get every time I down multiple cups of coffee.
I've got yet another business idea,
and it is going to be MASSIVE.
The others are going to be put on the back-burner until I (try to) get this off the ground.
A powerful GIS SaaS that includes all the advanced functions you'd find
in the workhorse desktop programs like MapInfo and ArcGIS for Desktop.
It'll also include the data that you'd likely need,
from demographic to geographic and everything in between.
All of this. FOR FREE.
I'll be emulating the Zenefits model.
This has the potential to be a major game-changer and just putting together
the initial framework would likely cost tens of millions of dollars.
But it can work. I know it can.
Millions of dollars, man.
Of course there's a little voice deep in me...
calling out in a corner...
telling me that it's the realist.
My 'Common Sense'.
It won't work.
It won't work like all your other goddamn ideas.
But you know what?
I've come this far.
From earning almost nothing,
with people spitting on me,
looking down on me...
to earning a higher than the average university grad.
I've come this far.
What's a few more steps?
Well enough of that.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Google Thinks Asians in Asia Just Can't Help Bribing
So I've just completed the first course of Google's online training for partners in Asia.
And guess what the very first slide says?
'Don't bribe'.
This pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the course,
which comes across as a Westerner calmly and patiently explaining to his inherently corrupt Asian counterpart why bribery is wrong,
and what the consequences are.
They were even kind enough to include pictures of goddamn hands holding stacks of cash.
And the motherfucking quiz at the end takes condescension to a whole other level:
Simple questions that are something like 'Is giving money to an official wrong?'
Motherfucker.
And guess what the very first slide says?
'Don't bribe'.
This pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the course,
which comes across as a Westerner calmly and patiently explaining to his inherently corrupt Asian counterpart why bribery is wrong,
and what the consequences are.
They were even kind enough to include pictures of goddamn hands holding stacks of cash.
And the motherfucking quiz at the end takes condescension to a whole other level:
Simple questions that are something like 'Is giving money to an official wrong?'
Motherfucker.
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Another Goddamn Rant
Was forced to skip another essential gym session last night,
which ended up with many of my other frustrations bubbling up and almost escaping my lips.
But nope.
Gotta be quiet, gotta lie.
To keep the peace.
She's happy so long as she's not the reason I'm upset.
Although she probably knows it,
if I make any subtle hints that she was a contributing factor,
then she gets really upset,
and the whole conversation will once again,
revolve only around her.
I appreciate what she does for me,
for the family, I fucking do.
And I hate the idea that I even have to add this goddamn obvious caveat.
I see where the family's going.
I see it with my dad who's body is falling apart and STILL he has to work,
and not just work,
but worry about losing his fucking job after dedicating his life to the company.
And oh no, it's not like he's earning a lot based on seniority, nope.
To show its 'appreciation',
because of his age,
they've got him on a yearly contract that may or may not be renewed each year.
For lower pay.
Motherfuckers.
Anyway I digress.
Besides the standard family stuff,
there are a few things that are really important to me,
to the point where it falls short of obsession (I hope).
Finally being fit,
and having a six-pack and a big but cut figure (shut the fuck up).
I'm 33 this year and I feel the fucking clock ticking.
Having enough money to NOT have to get into the office.
Work begins in like, three weeks.
I have three weeks of free time. And just the thought of stepping into the office again,
getting up in the morning,
putting on the prerequisite attire,
day in and day out,
while having the spectre of job loss looming over me the whole time.
Just the fucking thought of it.
It's not exactly the work that I hate.
I see the path laid out.
Keep doing the same thing with minor variations for days and weeks and months and years,
with pay increments here and there,
never enough to be fully comfortable though... never enough.
Get an apartment,
worry even more about losing job to make payments...
begin cutting corners in terms of ethics or self-respect...
Keep doing the same thing over and over again.
Until a thing grey carpet covers my head,
until my skin is like the old trees in the oldest parks,
until my back hurts constantly,
until it becomes a struggle to walk.
And have the worry about making ends meet become more intense.
Without my youth and strength,
what will happen if I fall sick?
If she falls sick?
If something happens. A fire maybe. A minor accident even.
No. Fuck no.
If she won't support me,
hey, that's fine.
I still have to do it.
For the little one. For myself. And yes, even for her too, even if she doesn't fucking appreciate it.
Any new plans for businesses,
keep it to yourself.
Got complaints?
Blog about it. Don't whine like a little bitch.
Pretend pretend pretend.
Set a time for the gym,
and be OK with her getting mildly upset that you left even when she wanted your help with something at the time (which, by the way, is most of the time, at all times of the day).
It must be done.
If we were climbing a mountain,
we'd never get to the summit doing things her way.
And what's worse, she'd probably complain about never reaching the summit despite the many fucking breaks we had to take.
Nope.
This must be done.
I'll wind down the fucking chicken business,
and look up what's trending in this shit-hole of a city,
and see if I can make some small change,
before I take another stab at the chicken supply business.
Well enough of that.
which ended up with many of my other frustrations bubbling up and almost escaping my lips.
But nope.
Gotta be quiet, gotta lie.
To keep the peace.
She's happy so long as she's not the reason I'm upset.
Although she probably knows it,
if I make any subtle hints that she was a contributing factor,
then she gets really upset,
and the whole conversation will once again,
revolve only around her.
I appreciate what she does for me,
for the family, I fucking do.
And I hate the idea that I even have to add this goddamn obvious caveat.
I see where the family's going.
I see it with my dad who's body is falling apart and STILL he has to work,
and not just work,
but worry about losing his fucking job after dedicating his life to the company.
And oh no, it's not like he's earning a lot based on seniority, nope.
To show its 'appreciation',
because of his age,
they've got him on a yearly contract that may or may not be renewed each year.
For lower pay.
Motherfuckers.
Anyway I digress.
Besides the standard family stuff,
there are a few things that are really important to me,
to the point where it falls short of obsession (I hope).
Finally being fit,
and having a six-pack and a big but cut figure (shut the fuck up).
I'm 33 this year and I feel the fucking clock ticking.
Having enough money to NOT have to get into the office.
Work begins in like, three weeks.
I have three weeks of free time. And just the thought of stepping into the office again,
getting up in the morning,
putting on the prerequisite attire,
day in and day out,
while having the spectre of job loss looming over me the whole time.
Just the fucking thought of it.
It's not exactly the work that I hate.
I see the path laid out.
Keep doing the same thing with minor variations for days and weeks and months and years,
with pay increments here and there,
never enough to be fully comfortable though... never enough.
Get an apartment,
worry even more about losing job to make payments...
begin cutting corners in terms of ethics or self-respect...
Keep doing the same thing over and over again.
Until a thing grey carpet covers my head,
until my skin is like the old trees in the oldest parks,
until my back hurts constantly,
until it becomes a struggle to walk.
And have the worry about making ends meet become more intense.
Without my youth and strength,
what will happen if I fall sick?
If she falls sick?
If something happens. A fire maybe. A minor accident even.
No. Fuck no.
If she won't support me,
hey, that's fine.
I still have to do it.
For the little one. For myself. And yes, even for her too, even if she doesn't fucking appreciate it.
Any new plans for businesses,
keep it to yourself.
Got complaints?
Blog about it. Don't whine like a little bitch.
Pretend pretend pretend.
Set a time for the gym,
and be OK with her getting mildly upset that you left even when she wanted your help with something at the time (which, by the way, is most of the time, at all times of the day).
It must be done.
If we were climbing a mountain,
we'd never get to the summit doing things her way.
And what's worse, she'd probably complain about never reaching the summit despite the many fucking breaks we had to take.
Nope.
This must be done.
I'll wind down the fucking chicken business,
and look up what's trending in this shit-hole of a city,
and see if I can make some small change,
before I take another stab at the chicken supply business.
Well enough of that.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Democracy?
Gonna be a quick post on something that's been crashing itself against my skull,
trying desperately to get out.
Democracy. Specifically so-called Western-style democracy,
which also happens to be practised in Singapore.
Here's the thing. Fascism is really hard, you guys.
Maintaining a really hardcore police state tends to drain profits.
Manipulation is so much better.
It's the lubrication that allows for a 'soft dictatorship',
or something like, I don't fucking know, a 'semi-totalitarian state'.
Democracy works only with an informed populace.
You don't need to know everything, but you need to have and regularly practice critical thinking skills.
- and I've just again been interrupted by my wife who wants help with the baby.
Nothing wrong with that usually, unless it happens all goddamn day,
preventing me from doing meaningful work.
It's hard looking after a hyperactive baby,
but expecting me to contribute so much time to helping out
will prevent me from working.
And guess what? No work = no money.
She understands that on some level.
Some level. But it seems like she gets so fucking emotional,
that logic goes out the window.
Things that could've been settled in a mere hours take fucking weeks.
It's like all she sees is how hard her part is in looking after the baby,
despite the help she gets from my mom and siblings.
Nope.
I need to help at all motherfucking hours of the motherfucking day.
Even with my messed up body,
occasional migraine attacks.
And what's even better?
She usually doesn't even fucking acknowledge the help I do put in.
Just today I spent half of the day looking after our baby,
despite not having enough sleep,
body aches all over
(from having to sleep outside, because she asked me to due to my snoring waking up the baby),
and a fucking headache.
When she finally had the time to look after the baby,
she chastised me for essentially not helping out at all,
by making it seem like she does all the work.
And this happens daily.
While I'm trying to get the business off the ground and look for a job at the same time.
Motherfucker, I can't even finish this goddamn short article without being interrupted twice.
Anyway, I digress.
Best to end this early.
Democracy doesn't work with a dumbed down, uninformed population.
And voting for the lesser evil?
That's still fucking immoral.
I mean, if person A kills two of your kids, and person B kills only one,
would you vote for person B?
This is relevant especially in the US and the endless wars that they wage on other countries around the world.
Well enough of that.
trying desperately to get out.
Democracy. Specifically so-called Western-style democracy,
which also happens to be practised in Singapore.
Here's the thing. Fascism is really hard, you guys.
Maintaining a really hardcore police state tends to drain profits.
Manipulation is so much better.
It's the lubrication that allows for a 'soft dictatorship',
or something like, I don't fucking know, a 'semi-totalitarian state'.
Democracy works only with an informed populace.
You don't need to know everything, but you need to have and regularly practice critical thinking skills.
- and I've just again been interrupted by my wife who wants help with the baby.
Nothing wrong with that usually, unless it happens all goddamn day,
preventing me from doing meaningful work.
It's hard looking after a hyperactive baby,
but expecting me to contribute so much time to helping out
will prevent me from working.
And guess what? No work = no money.
She understands that on some level.
Some level. But it seems like she gets so fucking emotional,
that logic goes out the window.
Things that could've been settled in a mere hours take fucking weeks.
It's like all she sees is how hard her part is in looking after the baby,
despite the help she gets from my mom and siblings.
Nope.
I need to help at all motherfucking hours of the motherfucking day.
Even with my messed up body,
occasional migraine attacks.
And what's even better?
She usually doesn't even fucking acknowledge the help I do put in.
Just today I spent half of the day looking after our baby,
despite not having enough sleep,
body aches all over
(from having to sleep outside, because she asked me to due to my snoring waking up the baby),
and a fucking headache.
When she finally had the time to look after the baby,
she chastised me for essentially not helping out at all,
by making it seem like she does all the work.
And this happens daily.
While I'm trying to get the business off the ground and look for a job at the same time.
Motherfucker, I can't even finish this goddamn short article without being interrupted twice.
Anyway, I digress.
Best to end this early.
Democracy doesn't work with a dumbed down, uninformed population.
And voting for the lesser evil?
That's still fucking immoral.
I mean, if person A kills two of your kids, and person B kills only one,
would you vote for person B?
This is relevant especially in the US and the endless wars that they wage on other countries around the world.
Well enough of that.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Still Sinking
We went below the $18K mark yesterday,
and I'm still nowhere close to properly launching the business.
The money will run out at soon,
and instead of launching the business,
I'll probably have to get a job.
And in the current job market coupled with the colour of my skin,
it's definitely going to be harder than last time.
Hell, it could even take more than six months.
I'm trying so goddamn hard to get the business off the ground,
and get in shape to look good for interviews.
And yet, time and again she has shown that
she just doesn't seem to get it.
We've had arguments and discussions and agreements
over how she should focus on the baby so I can do some actual work.
And yet nearly every single day, I can barely get a step or two forward
before having to put things on the backburner while I help out with the Littlest Dictator.
I really do love spending time with the little one, I do.
Not too many dads get to spend
almost the whole day every day with their kids for the first years of their lives.
That's something I'll forever treasure.
But the money IS running out.
My dad's likely going to be retired (or forced into retirement by next year or the year after that).
When that happens, what the hell are we going to do?
Where's the money for the milk and diapers going to come from?
We're on a sinking ship,
and it really hit home yesterday (or was it the day before?)
how she seems oblivious to this fact.
She actually asked me to get a stroller that's designed for a bigger toddlers,
one that would likely cost more than two hundred bucks.
And here's the kicker: It's unnecessary!
Our current one works just fine and IS meant for bigger toddlers too.
This is apart from the occasional question on when we're getting our own apartment,
to the weekly question of where shall we go on the weekends,
as if I had got any proper work done throughout the motherfucking week.
We keep going like this,
and the money will run out,
and her reaction's likely going to be another responsibility-evading 'I didn't know!'
I desperately need her help to actually look after the baby throughout the day while I work.
Yea sure, you'll catch me watching videos and shit like that.
But it's something I need to do, to get going.
I'm trying to break out of that habit, to just get to work, but it's an uphill task,
and I get interrupted every ten or fifteen or twenty minutes.
She needs to understand that an hour or thirty minutes a day is
NOT ENOUGH to get proper work done.
But she can't.
Or more likely, she won't.
So all I can do is continue to struggle as the ship slowly sinks down into the water.
Well enough of that.
and I'm still nowhere close to properly launching the business.
The money will run out at soon,
and instead of launching the business,
I'll probably have to get a job.
And in the current job market coupled with the colour of my skin,
it's definitely going to be harder than last time.
Hell, it could even take more than six months.
I'm trying so goddamn hard to get the business off the ground,
and get in shape to look good for interviews.
And yet, time and again she has shown that
she just doesn't seem to get it.
We've had arguments and discussions and agreements
over how she should focus on the baby so I can do some actual work.
And yet nearly every single day, I can barely get a step or two forward
before having to put things on the backburner while I help out with the Littlest Dictator.
I really do love spending time with the little one, I do.
Not too many dads get to spend
almost the whole day every day with their kids for the first years of their lives.
That's something I'll forever treasure.
But the money IS running out.
My dad's likely going to be retired (or forced into retirement by next year or the year after that).
When that happens, what the hell are we going to do?
Where's the money for the milk and diapers going to come from?
We're on a sinking ship,
and it really hit home yesterday (or was it the day before?)
how she seems oblivious to this fact.
She actually asked me to get a stroller that's designed for a bigger toddlers,
one that would likely cost more than two hundred bucks.
And here's the kicker: It's unnecessary!
Our current one works just fine and IS meant for bigger toddlers too.
This is apart from the occasional question on when we're getting our own apartment,
to the weekly question of where shall we go on the weekends,
as if I had got any proper work done throughout the motherfucking week.
We keep going like this,
and the money will run out,
and her reaction's likely going to be another responsibility-evading 'I didn't know!'
I desperately need her help to actually look after the baby throughout the day while I work.
Yea sure, you'll catch me watching videos and shit like that.
But it's something I need to do, to get going.
I'm trying to break out of that habit, to just get to work, but it's an uphill task,
and I get interrupted every ten or fifteen or twenty minutes.
She needs to understand that an hour or thirty minutes a day is
NOT ENOUGH to get proper work done.
But she can't.
Or more likely, she won't.
So all I can do is continue to struggle as the ship slowly sinks down into the water.
Well enough of that.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Permission to express grief
There have been so many tragedies lately,
that I've almost become numb.
From natural disasters to man-made ones,
the ones we read about,
and the ones that are alluded to,
but we never find out about.
From the atrocities committed by so-called Western powers,
to the horrifying things done by China and Russia and their allies,
to everything in between done by the smaller players, like Isis.
Denials and bullshit justifications come from those players on a regular basis.
What's really exhausting is listening to the ignorant, bigoted justifications by their civilian supporters.
Everyone from the truly bigoted ones who celebrate the deaths and torture of civilians in other countries,
to the self-proclaimed liberals who seem to be desperate to convince themselves
why their side is the 'good' side.
The horrific bombing in Brussels has dominated the news recently.
And while people from all over the world have expressed solidarity with the Belgians,
quite a few have rightfully pointed out the hypocrisy in how the so-called Western victims are treated in the media and by citizens in those countries, compared to the non-Western ones.
And of course the justifications for this begin to pour in,
grasping at anything they can get a hold of to claim why there's nothing wrong with that.
That OF COURSE they will identify more with Western victims,
followed by finger-pointing at those who point out the hypocrisy,
in an attempt to shame them into silence.
None of them bothers to mention the global nature of mainstream media today.
Deaths of civilians in faraway 'Brown' countries are treated more like entertainment,
or something that simply happens in that part of the world.
Oh, did you know? 10 families were wiped out in a drone attack in Afghanistan today.
Let's move on, to sports now, shall we?
We've been conditioned to tune out those deaths,
to identify those victims as 'others'.
What it basically means is that their deaths don't mean so much.
I have a feeling that the outrage and incredible outpouring of grief for the Brussels victims (the ones in Brussels, not the 'Brown' ones in those faraway countries)
is due to several reasons:
1. Fear. If it can happen in Brussels (and Paris), it can happen to your city, too. Suddenly it's no longer entertainment or simply background news.
2. Racism. How DARE they target Westerners - meaning 'White', though the victims of course include non-White civilians.
Never mind the fact that their countries have been waging unprovoked war on so many countries for so very long. Nope. They are superior. It's not the same, you see because of reasons.
Clashing cultures is one bullshit reason they like to use over and over again.
It also reaffirms their twisted, racist beliefs. The comments from some of these people
make it look like they're almost happy that it happened.
Now they can justify attacking that Brown family who lives down the street.
They can harass others they deem responsible (of course, always absolving themselves when people like them commit atrocities because of again, reasons).
Oh and by the way, when you attack an entire goddamn country, EVERYONE is affected:
From law-abiding civilians to criminals. Everyone.
A few of them will retaliate in kind, and they won't adhere to anyone's standards but their own.
Ironic though, because attacking civilians is exactly what those good ol' regular NATO forces do.
3. Genuine sadness at the senseless loss of life, and a realization that this is what victims in those faraway countries encounter on a regular basis.
These are the ones who have just woken up.
The disconnect has been remedied.
From what I've seen online though, no.3 seems to be in the minority.
These reasons are by no means exhaustive, of course. But going from article to article,
readings comments on those articles and on social media... I think it's a pretty good bet.
World War 3 is coming, without a doubt.
There will at one point be a war amongst the major powers. We saw a glimpse of it when Russia intervened in Syria.
The US is on the decline and despite their best efforts,
other powers are rising.
And they will not bow.
What does that mean for people like you and me?
Misery.
I just hope it doesn't happen in my or my children, or my grandchildren's lifetimes.
As for what my plans are?
To make as much money as possible,
and retire somewhere rural,
out of the way.
Live our lives in peace.
I can hope, can't I?
Well enough of that.
that I've almost become numb.
From natural disasters to man-made ones,
the ones we read about,
and the ones that are alluded to,
but we never find out about.
From the atrocities committed by so-called Western powers,
to the horrifying things done by China and Russia and their allies,
to everything in between done by the smaller players, like Isis.
Denials and bullshit justifications come from those players on a regular basis.
What's really exhausting is listening to the ignorant, bigoted justifications by their civilian supporters.
Everyone from the truly bigoted ones who celebrate the deaths and torture of civilians in other countries,
to the self-proclaimed liberals who seem to be desperate to convince themselves
why their side is the 'good' side.
The horrific bombing in Brussels has dominated the news recently.
And while people from all over the world have expressed solidarity with the Belgians,
quite a few have rightfully pointed out the hypocrisy in how the so-called Western victims are treated in the media and by citizens in those countries, compared to the non-Western ones.
And of course the justifications for this begin to pour in,
grasping at anything they can get a hold of to claim why there's nothing wrong with that.
That OF COURSE they will identify more with Western victims,
followed by finger-pointing at those who point out the hypocrisy,
in an attempt to shame them into silence.
None of them bothers to mention the global nature of mainstream media today.
Deaths of civilians in faraway 'Brown' countries are treated more like entertainment,
or something that simply happens in that part of the world.
Oh, did you know? 10 families were wiped out in a drone attack in Afghanistan today.
Let's move on, to sports now, shall we?
We've been conditioned to tune out those deaths,
to identify those victims as 'others'.
What it basically means is that their deaths don't mean so much.
I have a feeling that the outrage and incredible outpouring of grief for the Brussels victims (the ones in Brussels, not the 'Brown' ones in those faraway countries)
is due to several reasons:
1. Fear. If it can happen in Brussels (and Paris), it can happen to your city, too. Suddenly it's no longer entertainment or simply background news.
2. Racism. How DARE they target Westerners - meaning 'White', though the victims of course include non-White civilians.
Never mind the fact that their countries have been waging unprovoked war on so many countries for so very long. Nope. They are superior. It's not the same, you see because of reasons.
Clashing cultures is one bullshit reason they like to use over and over again.
It also reaffirms their twisted, racist beliefs. The comments from some of these people
make it look like they're almost happy that it happened.
Now they can justify attacking that Brown family who lives down the street.
They can harass others they deem responsible (of course, always absolving themselves when people like them commit atrocities because of again, reasons).
Oh and by the way, when you attack an entire goddamn country, EVERYONE is affected:
From law-abiding civilians to criminals. Everyone.
A few of them will retaliate in kind, and they won't adhere to anyone's standards but their own.
Ironic though, because attacking civilians is exactly what those good ol' regular NATO forces do.
3. Genuine sadness at the senseless loss of life, and a realization that this is what victims in those faraway countries encounter on a regular basis.
These are the ones who have just woken up.
The disconnect has been remedied.
From what I've seen online though, no.3 seems to be in the minority.
These reasons are by no means exhaustive, of course. But going from article to article,
readings comments on those articles and on social media... I think it's a pretty good bet.
World War 3 is coming, without a doubt.
There will at one point be a war amongst the major powers. We saw a glimpse of it when Russia intervened in Syria.
The US is on the decline and despite their best efforts,
other powers are rising.
And they will not bow.
What does that mean for people like you and me?
Misery.
I just hope it doesn't happen in my or my children, or my grandchildren's lifetimes.
As for what my plans are?
To make as much money as possible,
and retire somewhere rural,
out of the way.
Live our lives in peace.
I can hope, can't I?
Well enough of that.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Goddammit
If for some insane reason you've been reading my blog (seriously, don't you have a life?),
you'll realize that I complain quite a bit here.
OK, OK... fine. I bitch a lot.
It's my motherfucking blog.
Also, everybody needs an outlet.
But this post is going to be different!
It's going to be upbeat and filled with sunshine and bunnies!
Just kidding.
And fuck you.
Where was I? Oh yeah.
Around late afternoon yesterday,
I sort of got the wind knocked out of me. Emotionally (ehh go fuck yourself).
A simple request to my wife to help me identify three Russian meat companies...
just three...
turned into another mini-argument.
These happen a lot whenever a business-related request of mine comes up.
And from where I'm standing,
I've got a pretty good idea why. At least one of the major reasons anyway:
She doesn't think it's a good idea.
Doesn't matter what it is,
if even a hint of complexity comes into play...
she immediately expresses reservations.
Oh she'll say that she supports it.
But I've learned a long time ago that it doesn't mean much.
She's a big fan of asking for things,
and spending money...
but when it comes to making money,
eh, not so much.
She's even expressed interest in working,
as in, she'll work while I stay at home and look after our baby.
One problem though: It won't work.
I know it won't. She'll miss the baby too much,
she'll get too annoyed at work,
she'll be too tired and stressed and come back every day in a very irritable state.
Might not happen immediately.
But it will.
I know her way too well to know this.
Oh maybe I'm just a little bitter right now.
Back to what happened this afternoon.
Right after that mini-argument, I felt... deflated.
What's the point, really?
Why not just get a regular job,
work miserably a few months (while worrying about losing said job),
save up enough for the down payment on a nondescript HDB apartment,
and spend the rest of my goddamn life trying to stay ahead of the interest payments.
And she'd still be dissatisfied.
All that would mean fewer vacations and luxuries.
And I would be miserable.
Not the kind of atmosphere I'd want our child to grow up in.
But that response. That fucking response.
And what she said about 10-15 mins later felt even worse.
As she picked up the baby,
in a tone that had a mixture of resignation and regret when you treat a motherfucking pet poorly,
she said that we could review those companies later,
after she was done washing the baby.
As if she were doing me a favour.
Like a condescending boss talking down to her incompetent subordinate.
And during this moment... it just hit me out of nowhere:
I wish I were married to someone I was attracted to.
And it made me even more depressed because it's true.
Holy shit it's true.
She could be someone I'm attracted to.
She could be.
All she has to do is workout.
But I can't even broach the topic without driving her to tears,
and having to pretend I meant something else.
All this bitching and moaning might seem like I don't appreciate her.
I do.
I mean holy shit without her I wouldn't have a daughter,
and wouldn't even be able to look after her properly.
My life would probably be a mess (literally and metaphorically).
I owe a LOT to her.
She genuinely cares about me,
as I care about her.
But certain aspects of her personality...
keep dragging me down.
And it takes a lot of effort to pull myself back up again.
All while pretending everything is OK.
Like climbing up a steep slope with weights tied to my ankles and shoulders.
I have to carry on, though.
The alternative is to just lay in the muck... pulling my daughter down with us.
Well enough of that.
you'll realize that I complain quite a bit here.
OK, OK... fine. I bitch a lot.
It's my motherfucking blog.
Also, everybody needs an outlet.
But this post is going to be different!
It's going to be upbeat and filled with sunshine and bunnies!
Just kidding.
And fuck you.
Where was I? Oh yeah.
Around late afternoon yesterday,
I sort of got the wind knocked out of me. Emotionally (ehh go fuck yourself).
A simple request to my wife to help me identify three Russian meat companies...
just three...
turned into another mini-argument.
These happen a lot whenever a business-related request of mine comes up.
And from where I'm standing,
I've got a pretty good idea why. At least one of the major reasons anyway:
She doesn't think it's a good idea.
Doesn't matter what it is,
if even a hint of complexity comes into play...
she immediately expresses reservations.
Oh she'll say that she supports it.
But I've learned a long time ago that it doesn't mean much.
She's a big fan of asking for things,
and spending money...
but when it comes to making money,
eh, not so much.
She's even expressed interest in working,
as in, she'll work while I stay at home and look after our baby.
One problem though: It won't work.
I know it won't. She'll miss the baby too much,
she'll get too annoyed at work,
she'll be too tired and stressed and come back every day in a very irritable state.
Might not happen immediately.
But it will.
I know her way too well to know this.
Oh maybe I'm just a little bitter right now.
Back to what happened this afternoon.
Right after that mini-argument, I felt... deflated.
What's the point, really?
Why not just get a regular job,
work miserably a few months (while worrying about losing said job),
save up enough for the down payment on a nondescript HDB apartment,
and spend the rest of my goddamn life trying to stay ahead of the interest payments.
And she'd still be dissatisfied.
All that would mean fewer vacations and luxuries.
And I would be miserable.
Not the kind of atmosphere I'd want our child to grow up in.
But that response. That fucking response.
And what she said about 10-15 mins later felt even worse.
As she picked up the baby,
in a tone that had a mixture of resignation and regret when you treat a motherfucking pet poorly,
she said that we could review those companies later,
after she was done washing the baby.
As if she were doing me a favour.
Like a condescending boss talking down to her incompetent subordinate.
And during this moment... it just hit me out of nowhere:
I wish I were married to someone I was attracted to.
And it made me even more depressed because it's true.
Holy shit it's true.
She could be someone I'm attracted to.
She could be.
All she has to do is workout.
But I can't even broach the topic without driving her to tears,
and having to pretend I meant something else.
All this bitching and moaning might seem like I don't appreciate her.
I do.
I mean holy shit without her I wouldn't have a daughter,
and wouldn't even be able to look after her properly.
My life would probably be a mess (literally and metaphorically).
I owe a LOT to her.
She genuinely cares about me,
as I care about her.
But certain aspects of her personality...
keep dragging me down.
And it takes a lot of effort to pull myself back up again.
All while pretending everything is OK.
Like climbing up a steep slope with weights tied to my ankles and shoulders.
I have to carry on, though.
The alternative is to just lay in the muck... pulling my daughter down with us.
Well enough of that.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Busan
Just returned to Singapore from Busan.
The flight was way longer than it should've been,
and so much has changed since we landed in Korea two months ago.
Not only did I resign,
and the baby began saying 'Papa' (about damn time too!),
but I've realized that I would really like to stay there.
Maybe that was the wake-up call that I needed to make the plunge.
There's so much to do now:
Set up a business in Singapore to import fish from Korea, and to export Indonesian or Malaysian meat (maybe even African too) to Korea.
If the business takes off, hopefully we'll be able to stay anywhere we want.
Busan, or even Switzerland (where my wife's side of the family is seeking to move to).
There's a lot of words swimming around in my head about Busan,
living with my mother-in-law,
starting a business, etc.
I'm exhausted, and thinking about the steps I need to take makes me even more tired.
But I'll touch on one topic.
I can see the fissures widening between us. There are fewer and fewer moments of affection,
and a dozen other little things that slowly move the status of a relationship from lovers to good friends.
And something tells me at some point - at some point - we might no longer be together.
I hope that when that happens, we both land firmly on our feet,
and stay friendly,
especially for the sake of our little girl.
And I really hope that by that time comes,
I have enough to provide for the both of us.
Starting tomorrow, on the 1st of February, the countdown begins.
Six months.
By the end of this period, the business must have already begun taking steady steps
and generating income.
And personally, I should be really close to where I'd like to be in terms of fitness.
Six months.
There's a lot to do.
Bring it on.
Well enough of that.
The flight was way longer than it should've been,
and so much has changed since we landed in Korea two months ago.
Not only did I resign,
and the baby began saying 'Papa' (about damn time too!),
but I've realized that I would really like to stay there.
Maybe that was the wake-up call that I needed to make the plunge.
There's so much to do now:
Set up a business in Singapore to import fish from Korea, and to export Indonesian or Malaysian meat (maybe even African too) to Korea.
If the business takes off, hopefully we'll be able to stay anywhere we want.
Busan, or even Switzerland (where my wife's side of the family is seeking to move to).
There's a lot of words swimming around in my head about Busan,
living with my mother-in-law,
starting a business, etc.
I'm exhausted, and thinking about the steps I need to take makes me even more tired.
But I'll touch on one topic.
I can see the fissures widening between us. There are fewer and fewer moments of affection,
and a dozen other little things that slowly move the status of a relationship from lovers to good friends.
And something tells me at some point - at some point - we might no longer be together.
I hope that when that happens, we both land firmly on our feet,
and stay friendly,
especially for the sake of our little girl.
And I really hope that by that time comes,
I have enough to provide for the both of us.
Starting tomorrow, on the 1st of February, the countdown begins.
Six months.
By the end of this period, the business must have already begun taking steady steps
and generating income.
And personally, I should be really close to where I'd like to be in terms of fitness.
Six months.
There's a lot to do.
Bring it on.
Well enough of that.
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