one year on.


One year on

The long car ride there in silence.

Physical silence, my body still

closure is closure, but that sinking feel.



I see your picture, printed on marble, surrounded by granite

the feelings swell, crash like a riptide.

I look back; retrospect

of all that I did, I didn’t and I could have.

I pause and reflect

would you still approve, even then?


It doesn’t matter, you were my alma mater

still are still is

I clench hard my fist


and carry on.


You should be damn proud

of this little fighter.

Who stomps on,

never falter.







Greetings readers.

I do apologise for the lack of updates. To the uninitiated, I have been involved in Arts Camp as an orientation group leader (OGL). I have been involved in orientation camps for three times now. As a freshman in Arts Camp 2013, a freshman assistant OGL in Arts Orientation Week 2014, as an OGL for Arts Camp 2014, and will be a house IC for Orientation Week 2014.

People might find it odd that I am so involved in camps. Or even that I have too much time on my hands. And it’s true.

As a person, I think orientation camps really fit with the kind of personality that I have. I live by very few life principles, chief of them being not to take things too seriously. As my friends can attest to, I enjoy making people laugh and having a good time.

What better way to enjoy myself than to involve myself in camps?

The past few days, I have gotten to know so many people, done so many crazy things, forged so many friendships and perhaps most importantly, made so many people happier.

There are those who say that having fun during the camp is the last thing as an OGL- and I sometimes agree. The little administrative hiccups, the planning, the worrying. But think of the big picture- everything we do is to maximise the fun that the freshies have. I am especially touched when I hear them tell each other that they had fun during the camp, and when I see the words of appreciation that overflow my Facebook feed. It really brings me back to the time when I myself experienced university freshman camps for the first time.

When I go to camps, the flicker of childishness and enthusiasm and happiness that exudes from me on normal days becomes a full-blown forest fire, burning throughout and keeping me focused, awake, and always ready for anything. It really is my element.

To my house ICs Andrea and HJ, you’ve been great house ICs (except during social night) and I really look up to you. I understand the challenges you face and I often try to help. Sorry if I’m a bit nosey sometimes and I hope that I can even equal the standard that you both have set. I will never forget the times we spent- planning our stuff before camp, worrying about games and strategizing during war games and tug-of-war, discussing what’s best for the freshies and making sure that they only get the best.

To R10, you guys really rock. In the short span of time that we’ve known each other, I felt that we’ve already known each other for a lifetime. The constant support, the constant laughs, and the constant gatherings. I really love all of you. Steve the bulbasaur/shark, Niki the kitkat, Bryan my R6 buddy and the only guy I will engage in a threesome with, Tricia the immensely cute and act-innocent but knows what a lemonparty is (don’t google it) girl, Valesha the forehead (’nuff-said) and extremely loyal and supportive friend, Kimberly the fun-loving and use-my-phone-take-unglam-pictures-and-now-regretting-it weirdo, Dominic my bro from waaaaay back with warped humour close to mine, and Alex my dai gor triad boss. I could never have had gone through this camp without you.

Not forgetting my partner OGL, Eric. Thank you for supporting me and always tanking the bullshit administrative things that we have to settle. I usually see the big picture, often leaving you to settle the itty-bitty technicalities, which can be immensely frustrating at times. You are the best partner OGL I could ever ask for although you damn (censored label) now but I understand. Love you.

My councillors. A crazy bunch of people. To the girls who always come up with new ways to incorporate insults involving my face or name, I never ever take anything to heart, so please carry on this shit and I really appreciate everything you all have done for the OG, especially when me and Eric are shuttling from place to place to settle stuff. To the guys, thank you for doing what you do best (talking nonsense) and taking all the initiative that I could ever need. Thank you for always being with the OG and never ever declining to my sometimes incessant requests for freshie welfare. I’m really glad I went through this with y’all. Thanks to my frankly brilliant councillors I’m never worried about the OG because I always know that they are in good hands. Freshies first.

My freshies. I never could have done this without you. You guys are the reason I came back. When I look at you guys and I see that hopeful glimmer in your eyes, like a child awaiting to open their present on Christmas morning, it brings me back. The feeling of a whole new experience; of a totally new group of friends that you will stay with beyond university; of fun that is different and cannot be replaced or explained in words alone- that is what I hope you all experienced. You bunch are the most spontaneous people I’ve ever seen, and we owned. You made our lives to much easier, and the camp so much more fun. As much as the OGLs and councillors and seniors are there to give you the time of your lives, I can also safely say this- you bunch gave us the time of our lives as well, Come back and support me for Orientation Week 2014. Yessar.

To the seniors and those who came back to visit- thank you. Thanks Shelley for always being there to ask me how I was and coming back to pass us drinks and Strepsils. Thanks Evelyn for just being yourself (retarded) and supporting us in every way you can. Thanks Japhet for being there to strategizing with us and advising us on important decisions that deal with the house. To the other seniors that I might not know personally but I recognise- thank you just purely for being there. To see seniors come back means that R House, is a family; that in this whole event, we did something right.

To my batch mates and my original OG- thank you for coming back. I really feel bad for neglecting you guys during the camp, but your support really meant a lot to me. As I glanced over and I see your familiar faces looking on, I feel satisfied knowing that you guys have my back and will support me, and your presence is testament that ties forged never fade.


I will not let you guys down.

O-week 2014, let’s go.



Happy Father’s Day- the things I can never say to you


It is Father’s Day, and all over social media- I expect the usual outpouring of dedications to fathers, pictures of happy families overlooking a sumptuous spread of food to commemorate the occasion.

You would think that this post, then, being on social media, would be a post that basically also does the same.

It isn’t.

My dad is not on social media- he doesn’t even surf the internet.

This post is pretty much the opposite of those who post dedications on outlets such as Facebook, Instagram and Twitter even if their dad would never see it. I post this post because my dad should never see it.

I’ve mentioned before, I think, that I was brought up in a familial environment where we seldom spoke to each other. We communicated without words. The little conversations we have over meals are rudimentary and about mundane happenings at best. I’ve never talked to my dad about my inner emotions, inner feelings. The same for him. But we would always know what the other is feeling, thinking.

My dad is 67. He was born in the same year as my mum. My mum would’ve been 67 this year too.

Ever since I was young, my dad was always the figure to absolute authority. I was a mischievous child when I was young- breaking things, lying, playing- like all other boys my age. My mother would scream and shout and beat me, but I was never scared of her. Often in the day, I would go through minor incidents unscathed. But if I got into real deep shit, like breaking something or being a little cunt to my mum, she would utter those few words that would make me instantly crap my pants.

You wait till daddy comes home.

And I would instantly be good throughout the rest of the day, hoping that my mother would forget the incident. She never does.

I would usually be hiding in my room when my dad came back from work.


That deep, gruff and commanding voice beckoned. My dad would be standing in the living room, cane in hand. He would then give me a good lashing, leaving me reeling in a puddle of my own tears and feeling like I’ve accidentally taken a dip in a lava pit, mistaking it for a hot spring. Tough love. To me, my dad was the authority.

As I grew older, my dad’s role in my heart and mind never changed. Although I changed for the better, I sometimes vented my frustration on things and people. My dad would always be there, like an ominous shadow, reminding me to stay in line. What changed was his way of disciplining me. Instead of beatings, I got stern warnings, and expressions of immense disappointment. I looked up to him, and it really killed me inside when he gave me that look and that dejected sigh. I was his only child, his pride.


I’ve always looked up to my dad.

Until when my mum died.


My dad was a wreck. For the first time in my life, my stoic, infallible and impervious father was reduced to a sobbing mess of a man. It hurt me inside. It killed me. My dad, like everyone else, was only human.

After that, I began to see him dwindle. He had sleepless nights, he ate less, he stopped exercising. For the first time in my life, I began so see my dad age.

And it hurt me.


I don’t want to see you wither away like that. You’re the only family I have left.

I’ve always looked up to my dad.

Happy Father’s Day D.




Greetings, imaginary readers.

I have a whole week of Arts Camp coming up, so I might be on a hiatus for week or so. I might post short posts should the inspiration knock, but don’t bet on it. Your best bet would be following my blog for updates.

This post is about friendship.

With camp preparations in the midst, I’ve made a ton of new friends, and this made me think- how do I approach new people, and establish hopeful meaningful and lasting friendships with them? I, like many people, have different groups of friends. Friends that I see everyday, friends that I text everyday, friends that are far away and friends that I seldom talk to.

I’ve seen acquaintances that I have not met for a long time and we just talk like we saw each other yesterday. I’ve met friends that have only saw me yesterday yet we talk like we’ve not met for ages. I’ve met new people who I felt that we’ve been friends for a long time,and I’ve got old friends that I’m constantly learning a new side of.

Cliché but true.

Back to the topic. How do I approach new friends and how do I treat old ones?

Continue reading



My first summer.

Started it off by studying- learning the classical theorists and their famous works. Trying to apply them to my daily experiences and having philosophical debates with myself.

Finding out that hey, I’m not that stupid. I would spend days on end, analysing, studying, understanding, applying. Thoughts and notes that will serve me well, be it academically or not. New horizons were opened. No longer do I have to squeeze myself within the confines of a module.

In the gym, I found the strength to churn out results day after day after day. I would gym five times a week, sometimes six. Getting back the strength I’ve lost. Bringing up my max bench to 107.5kg. Making 100kg working weight bench press a reality. Working toward a 200% body weight max bench weight.

Concurrently, working on my stamina and endurance. 100 reps of body weight bench presses. Overhead shoulder press and deadlift superset. Starting to deadlift. Trying to go for 140kg, hitting around 110kg now.

I feel stronger mentally and physically.

And all this within the first month of holidays. Two-thirds more to go.

Currently in the camp phase of the summer.

Arts pre-Camp. Made a ton of new friends, rekindled some old ones. I really love freshmen orientation camps and the electrifying atmosphere, after being a part of it since secondary school to junior college. It really fits in with what I do- making people laugh and just have a good time. I love mg OG, I love R10, I love R-House. I love FASS and I love Arts. I just want everybody to bond together- one big family, one big faculty.

Arts Camp is going to be a blast.

With so much happening in so little time, this summer may very well turn out to be one of the best holidays I’ve ever had.


Fuck off, you cunt!


I do apologise for the dearth of posts. Been busy with camps and stuff. Blogging this from my phone as I speak.

It is a question I get asked pretty often- why the fuck am I so vulgar?

I’ve been know to cuss and swear like a – I don’t even know what. Like a potty-mouth dirt bag. Go on to my Facebook and you can see some of my rants. Sometimes I go for the straightforward cuss words, other times, I prefer a more biological take- coupled with a flair of linguistics- and end up with a colourful yet distasteful insult guaranteed to make others cringe or left reeling.

Continue reading

On gymming


Taken from a prior Facebook post of mine. Just thought I’d share it again.

People always ask me: Why do you gym?

To me, gymming is not about boosting self-confidence, or maintaining a physique to impress others (a valid point nonetheless- let’s not deny it)

When I sit on that bench, take a deep huff, and take the bar with its plates off the hooks, I feel the weights in their entirety. These weights carry the frustrations, the anger, the problems, the obstacles.

And I do my first rep. Steadily, slowly, letting the weight come down, and letting the bar touch my chest. The frustrations, the anger, the problems, the obstacles- letting them get to me, feeling them closely to my chest. Know thy enemy.

And press. My triceps, my shoulders, and most importantly, my pectorals heave as I muster up all my energy to push the frustrations, the anger, the problems, the obstacles, away from me.

Slowly, slowly. Struggling. Squeezing out every inch of my strength as I try to lock my arms and straighten, finishing my rep. The weights are there, but the frustrations, the anger, the problems, the obstacles- disappear.

It is more than a hobby, more than an obsession, more than just showing off. Gymming allows me to clear my mind- I do not think of anything when I gym.

Weights on and rep.

Sometimes I do not have goals, no limits I want to break- nothing. Sometimes I just want to make those weights disappear.

I overtrain because the adrenaline puts my body in a heightened state- I think better, faster. I overtrain because the pain the next day reminds me of the work I’ve done, and not to waste it- it makes me feel alive. I overtrain because I sometimes get too caught up and comfortable with not having to think, and wanting a clear state of mind when I anticipate work.

Everyone has their ups and downs. Everyone gets angry, frustrated and sad once in a while. The reason few see me in those states, is because I have found a wildly effective way of managing them. It might not solve the issues, but it’s a damn good way to start.

I can become the retarded, irritating, witty have-it-what-you-will person that I am because I gym.

It’s that important.

It’s that big.

That’s what she said.