Photo: Greg Rakozy
The universe will end not with a bang, but with a whimper. —Neil deGrasse Tyson
Time has a weird way of passing us by—the boring and routine tend to stretch it to oblivion, yet it takes only moments for the years to pass. For me, this becomes a problem in goal setting. I write down my plans, I set the deadlines, and then I realise how long it takes to achieve them little things.
Photo: Aaron Mello
This post was written for a writing prompt titled: “You discover an online, supposedly random “Yes/No” generator. But, after playfully using it for a short while, you find it to be 100% accurate in foretelling the future.”
I’m in my car, waiting for Sara—my Tinder date—to get ready for our night out. A Reddit post shows up on my feed: “This Miracle Crystal Ball app can predict your future!” Yeah, sounds like garbage, but Sara’s not ready, and I have time to kill.
I visit the site, and the only thing on it is an empty field with an ‘Ask’ button. I type: “Will dinner with Sara be fun?”
Photo: Hutomo Abrianto
I’m crushed under a 90kg man, beads of sweat trickling down his chin before finding their home in my eyeballs. His shoulder threatens to dislodge my jaw, and all I can breathe is chest hair. I’ve spent four minutes in this position, and I have two more to go. During times like this, I ask myself: “Why did I come to class today?”
I’ve started putting down books more lately. I’ll give them one chapter of boredom before I cut my losses and move on to the next book. I used to be a completionist when it came to reading, but as I grow older, I realise how little time I have to read all the books I want, so I’m learning to be more meticulous with my reading time.
It’s not the books, it’s me. I’m aware that different authors have different styles, and not all of them are going to suit me. I’m fine with that. The literary world is entirely subjective, and the path to bestsellery often consists of just craft and luck—both unmeasurable.
Yours truly in a Red Dao herbal bath. Photo: Affandi Hamid
I’d sent this piece in for a writing competition, but I didn’t make the shortlist, so here it is for you guys.
I had begun my trip to the highlands of Vietnam expecting to learn more about the cultures of the Red Dao minority. What I hadn’t planned for was having the trip turn into a culinary experience, which in turn had me reminiscing my own identity and childhood.
It was a three hour flight from Kuala Lumpur to Hanoi, followed by a nine-hour train journey to Lao Cai. Then came the hour’s drive up the winding hills to Sapa, punctuated by the 13km hike to a Red Dao village, where I was to spend two nights.
Photo: Sunyu Kim
Some ten years ago I wrote this: “I woke up to a world greyer than usual. It’s as if Crayola came and took away the colours from my life.”
No, it wasn’t a Myspace post.
Sometimes I like reading my old work just to see what I was thinking at the time, and as much as I like to poke fun at my younger self, he does give me some hints as to why I am the way I am today.
If feelings were a scale of one to ten, I would have been hovering at a three for as long as I can recall. This was why I took to reading my old posts just to see how far back I’d stopped caring.