Uber Ride Uncle #1.

I boarded the Uber car home. It was a pool ride and we had to drop two others before it was my turn. Usually that happens. I am always travelling from the city area all the way East. I am always the last.

When the rest of the riders are gone, the driver started to talk to me.

Usually this happens too. Conversations happen when there’s only one rider. Otherwise, the ride will be done in silence with poor radio content providing some background music.

– Girl, studying?

– Yah.

– Where?

– Lasalle.

Okay. Usually I lie because I cannot be bothered to explain where and what and how I am in an obscure school where only 5% of the population knows.

– Oh the art art school near Rochor there. Study what?

– Uh…

Should I say theatre? I have said that before and the judgements are damn harsh. Well…

– Design is it?

– Uh, yah. Design. Graduating soon.

– Oh good lah. So after graduate how? Want to do what?

– Not sure lah. Still have time to think a bit.

– Yah, but must have dreams mah. Must aspire to something. If not how?

– Hahaha. Yah, I know lah. Maybe I will start my own company or what. Do my own thing.

– Yah. That’s good. Cannot always work under people one. Go nowhere. I retired already, was working sea imports/exports. Now just drive Uber.

– Oh okay. Cool.

– I tell you what. But you are a girl, so very good. Work, see see the world out there for three to five years. Then hopefully you meet a man and get married. Have your own family.

– Uh…

My brain kind of kept blinking a red emergency light, and I was in the front passenger seat. So I was really bracing myself for a typical boy more important than girl gender roles conversation.

– You just listen can already. No need to take what I say. Just think about it. I have a daughter, only one. I am coming 60 and my missus 61. She’s close to her cousins but when we are gone, who will accompany her and be with her? She second year uni now, and I am worried.

I notice how he sighs and drives slightly slower.

– Yah. You can work work work achieve a lot of things but when people family reunion, you go home to nothing. Family is family. Extended family is still not the same as your own family. Her cousins will go on to have their own family also. Then how?

Then he goes on about how I don’t have to share the same view as him. Apparently he’s talked about this a couple of times and people my age find his view severely unpopular.

The ride ends, I thank him and he gets out for a smoke.

– Okay. That’s my last job today. Girl, get home safe okay. If anything happen, shout. Uncle is here.

And I was surprised by the experience. Maybe those words are not meant for me, but more so for his daughter. Who is a similar age to me.

Also, family. What is that value? Now? Today?

It is nice and deeply touching to meet someone who really believes in something with such sincerity, and carries it openly.



Credit: Unknown. Found on tumblr.


Change in colour

Of the world

In my eyes

So invisible and intangible

Yet my heart beats lighter

My steps float

And my lips learn smiles

I thought my mind has


All this time

Holding on

Letting go

Fingers twisted

Hope in a knot undone

A couple of words unsaid


Faster days. 

One day, I felt a little change in me. Maybe what I have been hoping for all year has finally happened. Maybe the chemistry in my mind has balanced out or shifted. Or maybe I have aged just a little bit more after turning a year older.

Or maybe I just woke up one day and allthe  little actions I have been taking this year added up and the difference is reaped.

I feel lighter and more free. My eyes are open to possibilities and I feel the forward momentum. Pulling at me stronger and sometimes, I feel like if I jump off the ground high enough I can float.

The days fly by and gratitude has been filling me up. A quiet joy. Slightly less dark days and time goes faster.

I’ve been spending my days writing thank you letters, making art and reading all the books I finally made up my mind to buy. Life’s been good, and if the rest of the year goes like this, I am content.

Gratitude holds such power over my being. And I am grateful that I have things and people, to be thankful for everyday.

A Little Hopeful. 

(October 17th, 7.59pm. Sleepy in the middle of tuition since the kid is working on a full paper. Under exam conditions. This is after I have had a full day of school and it is so stuffy here. The air is moving so slowly around me and my head feels so heavy.)

We have been happy. The last three weeks maybe? I haven’t felt this feeling in a long time. Nothing to worry about, in regards to us, our communication is going alright. Even though there’s friction every now and then, we deal with ease and a casual laugh. It feels easy. I am not stressed out by something he said. He is not ignoring me by always entertaining other texts before mine.

It is going okay.

I can breathe and talk about all the other things cluttering my mind. He would listen, nod or agree. Dish out some impractical advice. Laugh and take another spoonful of food into his mouth.

While all the feeling good is happening, we are mainly apart. Each at our respective schools, with our own friends, doing our own thing and barely texting. Some days, we only check in with each other about once a day. Less than 10 texts. Before submitting to sleep and other distractions.


Other times, I’d be disturbed or mildly petrified. Or he’d be spamming my inbox. He does it less now though, naturally. He has more persons to safeguard his happiness now.

Usually when things start getting better, I start feeling just a bit more positive than my usual self, it all goes to shit.

So here’s a short note of commemoration for myself. That we are happy now. And we can be happy without needing to try too hard.

Happiness is here. It is in me, even if just a small fraction, it doesn’t mean any less.

The written word. 

(September. Overdue. Been having conversations with myself over this but shelved it for another day. Also, my digital footprint is so traceable. I am wondering if I should be worried or not?) 

Looking back at all I have written, or vomited out, over the past year or so, I realised that I haven’t been writing much. In terms of like mediocre poetry or trying to be poetic. 

A lot of posts, at least those past March and after, are about me. 

It didn’t use to be like this. This casual blog is a space where I used to let loose and post up written texts and monologues and poetry. I am not published anyway, and I just wanted to keep it up so I don’t eventually lose touch with the language. 

But I guess this space has started to reflect the person behind the blog. Me. I write about whatever that occupies my mind at a certain point in time, my feelings that I find difficult to convey to another person and almost a therapy I can actually afford. 

(Yes, mental health care is crucial but also really expensive to engage and maintain.) 

I spent a while wondering if I should be apologetic to people that follow this blog since it started, and then discover that it has evolved or maybe grown into a weird imbalanced mix of personal and hobby. 

It is my own space, in a way, but I am also largely aware of people that follow. So I am sorry that it has come to this, and my emotions are all running away from me at this point and my arms aren’t long enough to catch them and place them back into my pocket. 

I also contemplated deleting this blog altogether, for fear of judgment since I have been pouring so much out here and I actually have no idea how many people engage with this space. And then see me from a new light. 

But why am I so easily ashamed of my feelings and feeling so much? I am a contradiction but I doubt I will change. 

But I am starting to slowly find my way back to writing and thinking in words I used to love so much. So maybe, all these past posts have helped. Maybe also because I am finally ending this phase of my life to begin again. 

Thank you for your patience and silent presence. Perhaps I will grow this space back into what it was like before. xx


(Written months back. Probably when I saw an elderly in stillness walking past the bus stop. Almost like a picture frame.) 

The aged are shunned 

Just piles of slow walking wrinkles

Limp flesh and limping legs

An eternal traveller of slowness 

Not weakness 

We thrive in the temporal 

And ignore the truth of our future