Today I learnt:

Ignorance of an issue is bliss only if you are privileged enough to afford ignorance. Ignorance and obliviousness are classic marks of privilege.

Come to think of it..

• “I didn’t know there are poor people in Singapore” can only be uttered by someone who has never faced difficulty.
• “I don’t think there is racism here” can only come from someone who has never experienced discrimination.
• “I don’t think women are treated unfairly in the workplace”
• “I don’t think men experience unfair societal pressures”

The list goes on.

On the other hand, “every social system happens only through the participation of individuals”. Things almost never just become a certain way. They become that way only through the participation of each person who decided to follow the path to least resistance.

The next time you feel pressured to act a certain way, it might be worth questioning why. It may be as simple as refusing to accept a ridiculous notion as fact— a refusal to contribute to a flawed system.

Where has all the cathartic days of the 00s gone? We used to blog cryptic messages about what's happening in our lives, yearning for the world to hear we're hurting, yet refusing to talk about what is causing us pain. We left them on our blogs as teasers, for friends who bother to ask "what's happening?"

What do people do for catharsis these days? Do they post short bursts of Instastories? Is that really enough? That hardly compares with the long form blog writing in helping to process our thoughts. Does that then explain why we're all hurting? We're all in need of therapy. We're all struggling to make sense of the world around us. Perhaps.

I know I return to writing time and again whenever there are things in my mind I cannot make sense of. But now, as compared to 15 years ago, I struggle to make my struggles known. It feels like, if you mention the elephant in the room, then it becomes real.

If nobody knows about your struggles.... then are you really struggling?

I whispered wishes to the wind
I tied my hopes to prayers and dreams
I hung my love on stars unseen
But my joy was drawn from you, it seems

There’s something exciting about novelty. On Saturday, I tried pole dancing for the first time in my life. — cue the judgey stares — and contrary to that image you have in your mind, it was about as sexy as sitting in a chair. If you think that move is erotic, you need help.

Being the excited/ terrified newbie I was, I arrived early, hoping to secure a spot in a forgotten corner. No such luck. I was placed right up front, under the instructor’s watchful eye.

I was prepared for an hour of failures, so I was slightly shocked I could do most of the routines— even climbing to the top of the pole! I probably looked more like a monkey on a coconut tree, but details are secondary. (Also, thanks Dad, for that valuable life lesson in climbing trees.) The spins were fun and dizzying. The kicks reminded me of how flexible I’ve become and how much I still have to work on. And I found myself truly enjoying the class!

Until DOMS hit the next day. My upper body hurt in places I never knew had muscles. And walking around, the feeling felt awfully familiar — it felt like I was having the world’s worst case of heartbreak.

For Christmas, I was given a book by Stephen Zweig, Lettre d'une inconnue (Letter from an unknown woman). As I delved deep into it, it reminded me of a moment in my life, more than a year ago. And I couldn't help revisiting that precious memory.

“You had me at hello” never made sense to me until that first time he walked in. He was not what I expected but I didn’t really know what to expect — I had never seen him before.

His eyes crinkled when he smiled, undoing the knots in my stomach. He had a way of talking without moving his jaw, speaking through a grin all the time. His voice was almost feminine. But perhaps I was just used to O’s deep, harsh baritone. In fact, after O’s stifling intensity, talking to him was a breeze.

So we talked, we laughed and then we went our separate ways. By the time I got back to my desk, I had already forgotten how he looked like. All I remembered, though, was a smile that made me feel like all is right with the world.

7 Billion people in the world. And I’m still looking for that elusive smile.

I don’t delete people off Facebook. Sometimes, I let the arrow hover over an ex’s name and wonder if he can feel me breathing down his virtual neck. I know I’m not supposed to care. But somewhere deep within me, I’m always afraid they’ll know their lives have become the source of my dinner table jokes.

Timorous Tim, though terrified,
tries to take the train to town.
Then, Tempting Tony tells Timorous Tim to trot to town to treat Tony to tea.
Timorous Tim thinks twice.
Then thrice.
Time’s too tight.
Takeaway teacakes taste terrible.
Though tremulous, trembling, too timid to talk,
Timorous Tim tries to tell Tony the truth.
Through tuts and tsks,
Tim the Timorous, tongue-tied, tells Tony tactfully,
This trip to town’ll teach Timorous Tim temerity.
Though terrifying, 'tis time to turn
Timorous Tim to
Tim.