What. The. Fuck.

My English AND Malay are going to shit.
Soon I'll probably be speaking and writing
a hybrid language that no one will understand...
and I'll get pissed off with those people for being "idiots".

Anyway, still here.
Still forming semi-coherent sentences.
So the boat is still floating, for now.

Lately I've been thinking
a lot about earning $20-$30K a month,
so I can afford a nice apartment in the Marina Bay area.
No.
A goddamn penthouse.
A huge one.
With a lawn in which I'll plant a Magnolia tree or two in.

Hey man, hey.
I'm reasonable.
It doesn't HAVE to be in the Marina Bay area, sure.
But the place needs to have nice parks
and wide open sidewalks for the Littlest Dictator and my wife.

Doing it mainly for them.
I could probably live in a fucking hut.

But sometimes I get
hit by memories of how I lived in a tiny apartment,
and had to get up early in the morning and take a cold shower sometimes.

How uncomfortable it was for me to go to school,
how much I hated it.
Not because of the studying,
but everything else around it.
From the journey,
to the social interactions,
to the punishments I'd get for arriving late.

I know... I know... that's part of everyday life.
But there were so many unnecessary pressures, and pain.

We didn't have the money.
We weren't dirt poor,
but I realize now that we were.

And I'm desperate to make sure
my little girl doesn't live that kind of life.

Every day we live with my parents,
in another step towards that kind of life
and it scares me.
I mean it's fucking crazy.
I'm earning significantly more than the average Singaporean.
And yet here I am,
still stuck in a room with my parents and siblings,
a small crisis away from sucking my family and I
back into that old life.

No.
Not going to happen.

Well enough of that.

Slow Descent

Met up with a friend recently,
and found it really hard to form proper,
coherent, grammatically-correct sentences.

Could have something to do with the fact
that not only am I exhausted,
but I've got a ton of crap on the mind.

From the shit that's happening with
that fucking greedy lying Kenyan,
to designing posters,
to trying to work on the
the content for a few important prospects.

I find myself being mired
in procrastination.

Hell, even writing this is a form of procrastination...
and I 'd been putting it off, too!

Goddammit.

I have a to-do list.
I need to follow it.

Commit to a time,
and get the shit done.

Well enough of that.

No Longer Home

It's Monday,
and my nose is running like
it's in the final stretch of a half-marathon.

A ton of stuff to do,
and yet I can't shake this feeling.
This thought I've been having.
Singapore is no longer home.
Or should no longer be my home in the future.

Aside from the ubiquitous cameras
at fucking bus stops and HDB estates,
they've also announced plans to make payment options
for public transportation completely cashless by 2020.
Something along those lines at least.

This is of course apart from the
intended launch of ERP 2 soon,
where every vehicle will be tracked in real-time.

Add to this the recent changes to the law
which further restrict free speech,
and it feels like I'm living in a very nice cage.

So long as you behave,
and say what you're supposed to,
and think what you're supposed to,
then everything will be fine.

I can't type for much longer,
so I'll end it with this:
It is time to move on.
Question is, where?

Well enough of that.

Groggy

So lately I've been missing out on a lot of sleep.
While I'm able to function,
I find myself trying to form coherent sentences...
and ending up mangling my grammar instead.

Weird shit too.
Can't really think of something
right now because you know,
I'm fucking sleepy.

Anyway, I've finally received enough information
to launch the ecommerce site for the annual Qurban.
... and I'm hesitating.
Procrastinating.

I mean hell, man.
I don't have the list of places they'll donate the meat to...
but that doesn't mean I can't set the site up yet.
Why the hell am I so reluctant to spend just
a few measly dollars on a domain name and Shopify account?
Fear of failure?
Laziness?

Goddammit I really need to snap the hell out of this.

Well enough of that.

Pissed Off in Ramadhan

I'm out of practice.
3 months of just relaxing in Korea,
and two weeks of commuting by car for my new job,
and I'd forgotten the little annoying things that
assholes do in public that piss me the hell off.

And when you're out of practice,
those things take you by surprise,
and you don't act the way you should.
The way that doesn't make you wish
you'd acted differently,
that you'd been stepped on.

There are extremes of course.
But in past,
I've noticed people (young women in particular)
who get in your way while you're walking in the opposite direction...
and expect YOU to get out of the way,
as if they're goddamn royalty.

They're not.
And I'm big enough to make sure that
if there is a collision,
hey, they bear the brunt of it.

But like I said,
I'm out of practice.
So when I was walking near the office
and this happened,
I actually moved out of the way at the last minute.

Annoyed the hell out of me.

But it's slowly starting to get better.

Doesn't compare to what happened to today
on a day out with The Littlest Dictator, though.

First, I didn't intervene when a toddler took
a toy that she was playing with.
Now he did it slowly,
and in front of her,
so I thought she was OK with it.
But she wasn't.

And instead of just taking it back from
the kid (and explaining that he could have it once she was done with it),
or even getting the parent to get the kid to return it,
I just stood there like an idiot,
until she turned her interest to something else.
And I felt fucking RELIEF.
Then tried to justify to myself why I didn't do anything.

The message I sent her was fucked up.
That it was OK for others to take their stuff from her,
that they have more rights.
That's not something I'm OK with.
And like a goddamn pussy,
I even tried to justify why I didn't do anything.

Next time, if the parent's around I'll look at them first
to see if they'll do anything.
If they don't,
I'll just take it myself.
And I'll weather the storm for her.
If the parents want kick up a big fuss,
hey, that's what all the weightlifting is for.
They can suck it.
In fact, I'll be happy to have at least one incident
to use as a reference in the future.
I might come out looking ugly,
but if I don't face things like that, I'll never learn.
And she'll feel like she's being stepped on.

But that wasn't all.
We were at the promenade,
when a cunty bitchwhore decided to smoke nearby.
Now to be fair,
she probably would've moved further away if I'd asked.

Like the idiot that I am,
not only did I play out all kinds of scenarios in my head,
but I kept hesitating on going over to her.
And when I'd finally decided to do so,
I kept getting interrupted by Jenia and The Littlest Dictator herself.
You know, the ones I were supposed to spend some time with.

Instead, I lost my nerve,
and somehow convinced myself that it was too late to approach (which is really just pussying out).
And to make things worse,
I'd somehow almost convinced myself that it was because
I kept getting interrupted.
Passing on the blame.

I could've wiped away her sweat first
and then walked over.
Could've just waited a few moments.
But nope.
Just walked away all frustrated,
and almost took it out on Jenia,
who thought I was pissed off with her.
I was really just pissed off with myself.

And then...
AND FUCKING THEN
I tried to justify why we were walking away...
like my manhood was all shriveled up
and trying to escape,
and I was making a feeble attempt at trying to
get it to come back and stay.

NO MOTHERFUCKER.
Just. Fucking. No.

The fact that it still bothers me
even now tells me that I should've
gathered my balls and at least said something.

I know what to fucking do,
goddammit.

And if they kick up a big fuss
or try to start a fight,
I'll just congratulate them sarcastically
and walk away the bigger man for
avoiding the conflict,
thus actually "winning".
The point is to turn out looking better.

I'm out of practice,
but at least now I know what I have to do.

And besides,
if anybody wants to throw down
and makes the first move,
I'm more than happy to put them down.

I should start taking the train more often.
Speaking up more often.

Well enough of that.

Another Goddamn Racist Incident in Singapore

It's 10.31am,

and I'm in the office,

and I'm a little sleepy and my fingers are slow to type.

My mind feels sluggish,

and ideas don't come forth as quickly as I'd like them to.

But yea,

I'm still going to post about this,

because fuck it.

Someone once said that you do not have a right to your opinion,

only what you are able to argue for.

And I agree.

I've just read a really good article 

on racism in Singapore media when 

it comes to depicting minorities.

This came about because a Singaporean actor of Indian descent (I forget his name),

had recently complained about being asked to speak 

with a thicker Indian accent during an audition for a local comedy film 

(Boys 2 Men 2 or something I don't fucking know).

And of course a goddamn racist piece of trash blogger

whom I'd already forgotten about had to rear her ugly poodle-like,

bleached face and chime in.

Like the typical Chinese supremacist in Singapore,

she pretty much used the same arguments White supremacists use

against minorities when they speak up against discrimination.

The message was basically this:

Shut the hell up and know your place. 

His objection was mainly about how he was asked to 

portray a stereotypical Indian Singaporean that speaks with a thick accent,

which is what Chinese Singaporean audiences apparently find hila-fucking-rious.

His normal Singaporean accent wasn't enough.

Nope.

Not funny.

A thick Indian accent is funny.

It's how most Indians in Singapore speak you see,

and it is considered to be FUNNY.

How the fuck is that not racist?

It's putting emphasis on the otherness

of Indians (same applies to other minorities).

That they are not really Singaporean.

That there's something off about them.

Growing up,

I did not know that some Chinese parents

would prevent their kids from playing with

Indian or Malay kids,

that they'd make casual remarks or jokes

which reinforce the idea that "those people"

are somehow different,

and more importantly,

inferior.

I did remember jokes

about dark skin as a kid,

and it makes me cringe

thinking about how I used to find it funny.

I wish I'd known what those jokes were really about back then,

about the impact they had.

I know better now.

And the least I could do is speak up about it.

So back to that idiot Xiaxue

who looks like a potato that someone covered

with lead white paint and red lipstick.

She began not only drudging up

his past work and calling him a hypocrite,

but also seemed to take pleasure in

what she thinks is her role in destroying his career. 

First of all dumbass,

what he's done in the past

has no bearing on the argument itself.

It's a fucking strawman.

Not that her equally stupid fans would know what that is.

The role he was auditioning for

was for a typical Indian Singaporean. 

Which is what he is.

But it looks like the producers were

looking for a typical Indian Singaporean

viewed through the lens of what they think

is the racist Chinese majority.

Minorities don't talk in a "funny"

way, and they don't have "weird" habits

or are more dangerous or stupid or whatever the fuck your parents

taught you they were when you were little.

They're just like you and I.

But racists - Chinese supremacists - can't see that.

Or don't want to see it that way.

I kind of get it.

If you have an advantage in a society,

why give it up?

Why not preserve it for your kids too?

I get that.

Just admit you're a fucking racist asshole.

Be honest about it.

I can at least respect that.

The honesty.

Not the racism. It's still fucking stupid.

But pretending to be a decent human being?

Pretending that you're just "telling the truth".

Give me a fucking break.

Goddammit

It's Friday,
the eve of the fasting month.

I'm trying to make sense of what I'm going through right now.
I've got a decent job. No, a GOOD fucking job.
I'm making six figures.

And when I signed the contract,
I was hoping to make it my final sales role,
where I'll be staying the longest,
before properly launching my side project (if it even takes off).

But after the first sales meeting and a call with a legitimate prospect,
I realize just how rusty I am.
Or was I never really good at it in the first place?
I'm excellent at selling myself and my abilities that's for sure.
Well, fairly decent I think.
Hell, I got this gig, didn't I?

But with my dad retiring,
and our planning for an apartment,
on top of applying for citizenship for her after six months...
I don't know man,
maybe the stress of it is getting to me.

The meeting didn't bother me as much
as the call with Park Hotel Group.
Sure it was a junior person,
but I didn't quite ask the right questions
and at one point,
didn't even know what to really ask at all.

Sure, I could be out of practice.
But the fact that I've spoken with two prospects (no wait, fucking THREE)
and haven't been able to even ask the right questions,
makes me question myself.

What the fuck am I doing?

Hell, I even considered just... coasting.
Lasting long enough to be able to launch that project I'd been thinking of.

Not going to do that.
Fuck no.

But the fact that I thought of it this early on,
just two weeks in?

Holy crap is that disturbing.

I'll have to get it together.
Plan the next steps.
Be OK with losing a few deals or asking the wrong questions.

Revise the fucking SPIN training methodology.

As soon as I close my first deal,
It'll probably be fine.

Well enough of that.