I saw chinchillas being squashed. :(

This is what a chinchilla looks like when it's sleeping. 

 This is what a chinchilla looks like when it's smooshed against a wall.

You may now go back to your boring, chinchilla-less life.

Am I a cat molester? Oh yes, I am!

All that's on my mind, right now, is to rub her cute fluffy tummy...

CHANGE Concert

Pinky Cheung

Here. Have some Jil Vidal singing a song. :D

The River Mat II

The river stones mat has been my little pet project for the past few days. So, previously, I got 2 whole bags of river stones and tried to hot glue them to the non-slip mat. Which ended up with them all popping off after the glue dried.

I then tried super glue - which was quickly abandoned cuz the glue began biting into the foam material.

After scouring the convenience stores in the neighbourhood, I popped by the hardware store. They recommended this glue.

The Power of Nails in Liquid Form

I was a bit skeptical at first. I mean, after having my hot trusty glue gun fail, what made them so sure that this glue would work? I gave it a shot anyway and bought 1 pack.

Lo and behold. This is the glue of the gods.

It worked like a charm. The glue took about a day to set but the stones were all securely stuck onto the non-slip mat. The sad thing is that I only had 1 tube of Selley's Liquid Nails Glue so I wasn't able to finish the mat. I was pretty happy though.

The next day, I popped by the hardware store to buy 2 more.

And oh! Before I forget! One thing I like about this glue is that it's pretty solid - well as solid as glue gets - like liquid putty. So it doesn't get all over the place like super glue or hot glue does. Pretty nifty.

Finally completed one. It kind looks like a foot reflexology mat. I like!

And two hours later...

Almost completed and ready to be brought to church! I ran out of glue, though. :( Time to buy some more tomorrow...

So I heard you were sick...

And I made this for you. :)

Well, okay. Here's the story. I heard, on Friday morning (1AM) that a close friend of mine had a kidney infection, and was hospitalized. So I decided to wait up till 6AM to go pick the freshest wildflowers and herbs from my garden instead of buying non-lasting flowers from the hospital.

Come 9AM, when I'm about to head over to the hospital, that I receive a message that she's been discharged. I'm happy that she's okay now... but... am I a bad person for being disappointed that she couldn't have been discharged later, so that I could have passed her this bottle of flowers? :(

Marking my students' essays and ACTUALLY reading the contents of their essays at this hour is what reminds me of why I love my tutoring job.

Topic: Write about why a giant chicken crossed the road.

Scenario 1: The giant chicken hates all of mankind and runs across the road, smashing all the cars out of the way. <------ primary school

Scenario 2: A girl finds a giant rooster and starts stroking it. <----- primary school

Scenario 3: A hen went across the road to have a sex change. <------- secondary school

Are Singaporeans Really Ugly?

I don’t mean physically, mind you. Are we ugly in character? We’ve had lots of stories lately – ranging from shrieking aunties with a vendetta against ZARA tees to Singaporeans laying a literal shitstorm outside some of the more populous MRT stations. *coughHollandVillage*cough*

It’s easy to lose faith in our fellow Singaporeans in light of all these.

I’d be ashamed of being one if all this continued, trust me.

Something happened last Wednesday night that restored my faith in our fellow countrymen 

(and women. Yes, AWARE. I have not forgotten the women.)

So here I was happily riding home on the Mass Rapid Transit on a quiet Wednesday night, minding my own business and listening to my own tunes, when someone puked onto the ground next to me.

It wasn’t retching either. It was the threefold chunky waterfall of vomit. The kind that splattered all over the ground.

Here is a photo for your reference:

Instagram filter to make it prettier!

Some puke also happened to splatter on the surrounding ladies (and my hapless bag). Needless to say, there was a whole lot of feminine shrieking from the ladies – and some rather manly ones from the guys.

I’ve also never seen an entire crowd move to the centre of the train that fast. Maybe SMRT can take a leaf out of this guy’s notebook!

Anyways, the entire train carriage smelt of rancid fluids and the guy was still vomiting. After setting my bag a safe distance from the vomit radius, I was dishing out wet wipes to the guy like a sugar daddy at a strip club. (Okay… bad comparison)

Some of the aunties who got splattered on were shooting poisonous glares at him while the vomiting guy continued… well… vomiting. It took THAT long.

So there’s this guy getting all embarrassed and everyone’s avoiding him like the plague and STOMP: Terrorist Projectiles Stomach Acid at Civilians as Act of Terror.

Story ends here. Right?

It didn’t.

While I was being tissue free-flow uncle, a gentleman came over, supported the guy (and got splattered) and brought him to sit down. It seems like this simple open act of kindness opened up a dam for more kind souls to pour in.

A middle-aged lady came forward to offer him some of her medicated oil. Then another young lady (in her twenties, I think) offered him a drink and sat beside him, so that he wouldn’t be embarrassed by himself.

We get a whole lot of bad press in the media, talking about how millennials, and youths and wizened folks and governments and everything in Singapore is pouring down the drain in a perpetual mire. It’s easy to get convinced that this nation and its people are disgustingly hopeless.

Until you actually get to see people coming together to act in kindness. And I was given the privilege to see it all in action.

It all starts with a simple act of kindness.

The River Mat

For those of you who know me, you'll know that my hobbies go waaaaay beyond gardening. I happen to love DIY as well.

A few weeks back, I was checking out the church toilet and noticed the incredibly yucky floor mats in front of the toilets. Those had been there for at least 6 years. So... pretty moldy and nasty.

Surfing the interwebz for ideas, I chanced upon this fairly nifty tutorial on creating your own river stone doormat.

Pretty cool. You'll see the beginnings of my attempt to create it. All I just need now is to find that glue...

Dem nuts.

The Hunger Cycle

DISCLAIMER: In case you haven't figured this out yet, the following comic is a work of pure satire regarding the behaviours of humans. There's no intention to mock a core belief of any individual.

“The more I live, the more I learn. The more I learn, the more I realize, the less I know.” – Michael Legrand

On reflecting on the the Hungry Ghost Festival, we have learnt many things from our observations. In celebration of our complete unknowing, we present to you:

1. Hungry Ghosts be Hungry.

The Hungry Ghost Festival doesn’t get its name for nothing. These ghosts have absolutely nothing to eat for 11 months straight. With nothing to do, nothing to eat and nothing to drink, immortality and the afterlife pretty much sucks for them.

2. Hungry Ghosts be Angry. 

Ever wonder why you should never step on those chalk zones? I’d be pretty damn annoyed if some random shithead stepped into my food. Now imagine a swarm of hungry ghosties with great hunger and little tolerance for mortal bullshit.

3. Hungry Ghosts be Fed. 

Them ghosties finally get their tummies filled up. Them ghosties be happy. Them ghosties be doing you favours.

4. Hungry Ghosts be Peek-a-Boo. 

5. Otherworld Economy Goes into Freefall. 

Ever thought that you’d be free from the woes of having to rely on money once you enter the Netherealm? Unfortunately, you don’t get to experience that, according to the Chinese belief. Your spooky income is gonna be dependent on how much joss paper is burnt this month.

6. Hungry Ghosts be Dragged Back to Eternal Torment. 

At least we now know that Pacman was education in giving us cultural studies…

7. Rinse and Repeat.

Loved this post? You can check it out as an ACTUAL cycle below. Just do the clickey.

Done in collaboration with Colin Chen.

Unhand me, foul human!

Oooo... leaf insect! Nifty!

I wonder...

Sometimes I wonder if I dig myself into holes that I don't need to. Then I see a playground and forget to be dignified.

I Survived Depression and Lived to Tell

The recent passing of Robin Williams came as a shock to many and has led a lot of us to do quite a fair bit of contemplation – both on fragility of life, and how very much mortal we all are. It has led me to think about a lot of things, particularly in the area of depression, suicide and self-harm. I’m going to try to approach this with as much sensitivity as I can.

A close friend of mine lamented on how frightening it was that someone so successful in his career would be subject to depression – how someone, who brought so much joy and laughter to the world, would be unable to find any hope to carry on. Perhaps, the scariest thing about depression is its ability to strike anyone of us and its capability in eating away at our vitality – like cancer.

As a writer of jargon, diabolic cats and toilet bowls, I don’t often do this. I mean, there’re so many people out there with greater stories to tell about topics like depression but at this point of time, this matter is very real to so many people out there, especially sufferers. And I guess, every story helps. After all, there might be someone out there who might find hope in this.

I am a sufferer of depression.

I am also living to tell this tale.

The dictionary describes depression as a severe despondency and dejection, typically felt over a period of time and accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy. My earliest memory of it in my life was when I was in Primary 3. I remember climbing up a chair, prepared to jump off the third floor of my school, to the taunts of my classmates. Only the timely intervention of a classmate and teacher prevented me from taking the plunge.

The next instance that I remember of depression truly taking hold in my life was when I was in secondary 4, a few months before the ‘O’ levels. I would hear voices telling me how worthless I was, how the world was better off without me. At times, I would feel a deep, cold presence wrap around me, choking me, and claws gauging at my skin and eyes – none of it actually physically manifesting, of course. Most times, I would just feel a constant void. To put it more accurately, I felt nothing. I was numb.

Perhaps it would help to pause here and provide some context. My family started out whole but it was slowly torn apart by financial difficulties. My own father began becoming physically abusive and, on multiple occasions, attempted to kill me. To add on to that, my family was constantly hounded by loan sharks and we were regularly sent death threats. Things were constantly smashed outside our house as well.

Here's a meme to lighten the mood... kinda.

In school, things weren’t much better. I had difficulty relating to my classmates and I was branded the problem student. For some reason, I was labelled as the “class gay” and was regularly beaten up in school. primary 3, my father left the family (he was arrested, I think) and my family turned into a single-parent family. The kids in school caught wind of the news and I was now labelled the “bastard gay child”. No one wanted to play or eat with me and I was mostly by myself in school. Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy in school or at home.

Anyway, back to the depression hitting in secondary 4. It was a frightening time, as frightening as it could be when I was unable to feel anything. I recognized the feelings but I didn’t understand what it was. At that point, no one around me knew what depression was and I didn’t know who I could turn to. The combination of being friendless (still) in secondary school, having been molested and almost raped, and being unable to score well had all led me into this hopeless little black hole of nothing. I would often stab my hand or parts of my body just to feel SOMETHING. Physical pain was better than the constant unnerving nothingness.

Things DID end up working out in the end and I went into a course (Games Design and Development) that I wanted and got into a very welcoming church that treated me like family. I recovered emotionally. Two years went by before depression struck again, at a time I least expected. I was enjoying my church life and I was happy with my course.

But I was depressed anyway.

And I wanted to kill myself.

Depression was like a black hole.

No matter what I poured into my life; no matter whatever enjoyable things I did; no matter how much I tried to make the intentional choice to be grateful for what I had, I couldn’t be happy. I couldn’t function. It was as if there was this black hole in my heart sucking away the joy in my life. I knew that I ought to have been grateful for what I had. I mean, living in Singapore with my creature comforts is a whole lot better than living in the warzones. But I was unable to no matter how much I tried.

I constantly felt guilty and felt like a complete ingrate for whatever I had in life. I felt stupid and weak that I couldn’t overcome all of this. And I got all the more depressed for it. It was a vicious cycle.

Depression caused me to feel like a dead person in a living body.

My mind was numb. My limbs were numb. My heart was numb.

All at the same time, all I could do was cry. I would laugh on the outside with groups of people – especially if I was with the younger ones in church. I would cry for hours on end at home for no reason when I was alone. I would then stare at the ceiling for hours doing nothing, thinking nothing. Unable to move.

I burnt all photos of myself laughing or smiling.

Depression robbed me of my relationships.

It never did manage to drive a wedge enough in my relationships to actually cause my friendships to break. It did manage to make me feel alone in a crowd. Wherever I went, all I could see was the chasm between me and everyone else. All I could see was a wall in front of me – a wall that I would try to scale or get around, and just after I got over to the other side, I’d find that I was back where I was.

Here's another meme.

For three hellish years, I continued being in depression. Each day, I struggled to get out of bed. Each day, I struggled to get through brushing my teeth and eating my breakfast. I’d then go round the whole day pretending I was fine. Then I’d stay up all night wondering what was the meaning of everything and if I should just end it all.

Occasionally, my mood would lighten up and I’d think that I was out of the woods. Then it’d sink even deeper. One night, I decided that I had enough. It was either an intervention happen or I end it all that very moment with the penknife lying beside me.

A friend called me on Skype to ask me how I was.

That was a few years back. Thankfully, I’ve since moved on. It was a slow and painful path to recovery with many ups, downs, relapses and thoughts of death, but I made the choice to do so

.

I chose to forgive myself.

There were so many days when I felt like I couldn’t cope with the thought of getting out from under the covers. There were so many days that I felt like I couldn’t cope with the idea of existing. I chose to forgive myself and accept that this went beyond a weakness in character. I chose to accept that I was ill and that I needed treatment, or at the very least, counselling. I checked myself in with a professional psychiatrist.

I opened up.

Depression had worn away much of the trust I had in people and in myself. It was probably one of the most frightening decisions that I had to make at that point of time. I’m glad that I did though. Opening up to a trusted friend enabled me to air out whatever issues I had and allow whatever healing that needed to take place to flow into my life.

I was loved and supported.

This was, perhaps, the most important factor in my recovery. Sadly, not everyone has this opportunity. I am grateful that I was granted it. Opening up to my friend enabled him to be part of my life and support me. Most times, he didn’t have any answer to the questions I had, but he offered a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Gradually, he brought in support from some other people and together, they built me back up.

The road hasn’t been easy and depression is far from the easiest thing to go through. Most sufferers don’t need answers per se. Most know the answers. What is needed is often the support and the understanding that if we were to fall, someone would be there to catch us unconditionally.

If anyone needs someone to talk to, feel free to drop me a comment in the comments section below.

Alternatively, if you want to opt for professional help, listed below are some organizations that can help:

SOS (Samaritans of Singapore)

Tel: 1800-221-4444 (24 hours daily)

SAGE

Tel: 1800-353-8633

Care Corner Counselling Centre

Tel: 1800-6-668-668

Care Corner Mandarin Counselling Centre

Tel: 1800-353- 5800 (10am to 10pm daily)

Family Service Centre

Tel: 1800-838-0100

Singapore Association for Mental Health Helpline

Tel: 1800-283-7019

TOUCHLINE (TOUCH Youth Service) - Youths between 12 and 19 years old, who are struggling, frustrated or depressed and badly in need of a listening ear

Tel: 1800-377-2252 (10am - 10pm Daily)

Tinkle Friend (Singapore Children's Society - Bukit Merah Centre) - Primary school students, especially children who are alone at home, who need someone to chat or discuss problems with.

Tel: 1800-274-4788 (9:00am - 11:00am, 2:30pm - 4:30pm Mon-Fri)

Youthline (Youth Challenge) - Young people with interpersonal, family, stress/depression/anxiety and sex-related problems.

Tel: 6336-3434 (8:30am - 6:00pm Mon-Fri)

eGen (www.egen.org.sg)

eGen tries to be more than just another blogging community by providing forums and photo albums for bloggers to share pictures, as well as 'cyber counsellors' whom teens can talk to online.

metoyou (www.metoyou.org.sg)

A counselling chatroom where youngsters can log on to speak to an online counsellor from Monday to Friday, 2.30pm to 5.30pm

7 Kinds of Employees

1. Worker Bee

This type employee is the grunt of the company. They will do the same thing, 10 thousand times a day, as many days of the week as you allow, for as many years as you allow them to work. They will make honey out of pollen and suckle your tits if you convince them to do so

2. Head Worker Bee

This type of employee, is similar to the one described above, except that they have “seniority” simply by the number of years that they have been in the company, and the times that they have suckled tits. They are the ones that organize the worker bees and recommend new sucklers for you to try or mobilize everyone for mass suckling events.

3. Management Wannabe

This type of employee is typically new to the company, wants to change everything and climb every single possible corporate ladder there is in the company. They will pull quadruple suckling duty to get the attention of the suckled, and perhaps nibble a little so as to get their attention.

4. Mr "Professional"

This type of employee is the one who tells everyone how they should suckle. The angle, pressure and duration are honed to an exact science. This employee will ONLY suckle to specifications, any divergence is met with skepticism and harshness, and will usually end up with a nasty bite to the suckled if a change of specification is requested.

5. The By-Left-Winger

This employee will do EVERYTHING to be considered to have gotten by an acceptable suckling session. Usually sloppy and lazy, but this is the type of employee to approach if you ever need an unscheduled and unconventional suckling to be done.

6. The By-Right-Winger

This type of employee will only suckle and nothing else. No special coddling or embrace. Suckling and ONLY suckling, unless the book itself specifies otherwise. No special treatment or extra mile from this employee.

7. Please Fire Bee

This employee is sick of suckling and will bite at any chance, leaving as deep a mark as possible. This employee will also BROADCAST that suckling is wrong and that everyone should just quit.

Done in collaboration with Colin Chen

Sometimes, life's kind of like this glass of orange juice...

...remarkably derpy.

Potato Cat

I proudly present to you, Potato Cat. Share this image. SHARE THE JOY OF POTATO CAT!!!

Day 069: I am now convinced that the cat lurking around the void deck is plotting to kill me.

Obese Cat

Innocence

Of Deranged Merlions and Lol