I'm finally out of ``jail''.
It has been a rough week. It all began with a dull pain in my left eye ball (it's always the left eye ball for some damn reason...) on Sunday. Might be mild irritation (it happens every now and then), so no sweat---I'll just wait it out.
At the end of the day, it was still having pain. And it was red. Naphcon-A was doing magic, but I was tearing up like a mofo. A quick check with the torchlight angled against the surface of my cornea was showing me some rather uncomfortable cloudiness on the edge where it meets sclera.
I've seen that shit before when I had corneal abrasions. It was not a good sign. Time to see the ophthalmologist. Earliest was Monday afternoon when they open, but it was important to make an appointment. Sunday night was not what I was expecting, but mum was worried/adamant, and managed to get through---turns out that staff had the fixed line office number forwarded to her cellphone, and was curious due to the persistent calls. Appointment was made, and I spent the next morning setting out standing instructions to my team as I worked from home, waiting till it was time for my appointment.
Ophthalmologist was finally met, diagnosis of borderline keratitis given, eyedrops containing steroids, as well as several antibiotics to reduce chances of infection were provided, and sick leave for three days was given. Photosensitivity was a bitch, and I was tearing up here and there, and the eye was still red.
I could only rest at home till the first follow up on Wednesday morning.
In between resting, I had to take a break from taking a break, and from that I was just checking in on my work phone just to keep a track on the pulse of things that were happening.
So much happened that I got even more tired from that.
Wednesday follow up came and went. Another two days of sick leave was provided for more rest, and I took them. Meds are doing their magic, but things take time to heal. And I have developed a weird cough in the mean-time due to God knows what---too much random phlegm or something?
Today is Saturday. There's a performance this evening that I'm involved in. I've got to get into shape for it. Playing through with a cough only because I'm probably the best dizi player that is in the orchestra that can handle all the nonsense that is needed for the pizzazz. There was also an out-of-the-blue invitation to an acquaintance's wedding luncheon that I turned down because I had to run errands in the morning of today, and that was before I was kept in ``jail'' due to my busted up eye ball.
Last week and a bit before, Xiaolu came back to town for a visit. It was unexpected, but very welcome. We caught up on old times, lamented about what being forty meant, and shared about our fears and what passes as hopes for the future. I had been in a slump for the past few years, and having her come in at just this time was in many ways a God-send. Maybe there will be better confidence in taking the paths that I have in mind, or maybe I'll just end up ``existing'' the way I have been for the past six to seven years. In either case, I am glad she showed up when she did, even though the circumstance that she was operating from was unsafe.
Anyway, that's about it. I'm not dead yet, and tomorrow's March.
Where the hell did the time go?
Saturday, February 28, 2026
Monday, February 09, 2026
A Small February Thought
Ah, it's now February. Well actually, more than a week into February proper.
What a luxury!
Anyway, what's there to say?
I think the main thing to talk about is how the modern world is increasingly unstable in its nature. Not a day passes without some major news from the Great Powers that can affect SIN City, and not a week passes without some news from SIN City itself that makes one stare very hard into the sky and wondering out loud: why.
But through it all, there's always this glimmer of hope from God knows where. In the bits of gloom and doom, people are still getting married, some are having children (that's plural), and many others are still planning for the future, what with their own goals, ambitions, aspirations, and even thinking about things as far ahead as retirement.
Me? Not so sure about that. World's too bleak. My own mood waxes and wanes---there'll be a week where I feel like I should just go kill myself, and then there'll be a week where I feel like I am a Champion who can thrash anything that comes my way. In between, life just happens, and a day passes without much to crow or complain about.
But through it all, I just find myself flying solo. Technically, God is also there, but even as Jesus is my personal saviour, He mainly guides through the Holy Spirit who indwells me---I still need to live through the life itself. Flying solo has its features: I am almost always with my own thoughts.
For many people, this can be a scary thing, and that is true even for me, even when I'm actually used to being with my own thoughts. The thing is, while it can be quite comfortable to be aware of what one is thinking at any time, it also loses quite a bit of the comfort-ing when one is in distress, which is usually the times where I get a little envious of how some folks have that significant other who can hold them and comfort them, telling them in a visceral way that things are what they are, that they are still safe-ish, and that they are there for them.
I don't really have that. It can be tiring at times to not have that, but well, it's a life that I have chosen. Do I hope that I will be ``found''? Maybe, but it has the same amount and nature of hope that I have in winning the lottery, considering that I do not partake in it.
------
These days, my vexations revolve around the general thoughts that the so-called ``career'' that I have chosen is fast reaching its natural end of life in terms of exploitable usefulness.
For the confused, allow me to explain.
I love computers---these machines are fun to work with, and the ability to wield such powerful computational devices through careful programming to solve difficult problems. Accidentally or not, I have made working with computers the manner in which I make myself useful in society as a whole.
But lately, I've been getting signals/vibes that this is no longer something that can be viable in as short as five years. The reason that most people will toss about is ``AI'', but the reality is that I think we have reached a saturation point on the types of [useful] computer programs that we can write.
No one needs yet another social media platform, nor do they need another customer management system.
The saturation of software engineering now is no different from the saturation of electrical engineering or civil engineering---there is never a need for even more companies to do all these.
But problem solvers---we're always in need of more of them. And before I was playing with computers, I was a problem solver. And so that's where I am starting to veer towards.
Maybe I will not have much of a ``career'' left, and it's time to move on to do something that only an older, more jaded man can handle.
------
In other news, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 has been a blast to play. As an RPG, it plays like a cross between the typical JRPG and some simplified version of Elden Ring with the dodge and parry mechanic. The save points have just enough distance between them for that perfect bite-sized game play that I seek these days as an older gamer.
I think that's about it for now. Chinese New Year is coming up, and I look forward to the break that comes. Maybe I'll have more to talk about then.
Till the next update.
What a luxury!
Anyway, what's there to say?
I think the main thing to talk about is how the modern world is increasingly unstable in its nature. Not a day passes without some major news from the Great Powers that can affect SIN City, and not a week passes without some news from SIN City itself that makes one stare very hard into the sky and wondering out loud: why.
But through it all, there's always this glimmer of hope from God knows where. In the bits of gloom and doom, people are still getting married, some are having children (that's plural), and many others are still planning for the future, what with their own goals, ambitions, aspirations, and even thinking about things as far ahead as retirement.
Me? Not so sure about that. World's too bleak. My own mood waxes and wanes---there'll be a week where I feel like I should just go kill myself, and then there'll be a week where I feel like I am a Champion who can thrash anything that comes my way. In between, life just happens, and a day passes without much to crow or complain about.
But through it all, I just find myself flying solo. Technically, God is also there, but even as Jesus is my personal saviour, He mainly guides through the Holy Spirit who indwells me---I still need to live through the life itself. Flying solo has its features: I am almost always with my own thoughts.
For many people, this can be a scary thing, and that is true even for me, even when I'm actually used to being with my own thoughts. The thing is, while it can be quite comfortable to be aware of what one is thinking at any time, it also loses quite a bit of the comfort-ing when one is in distress, which is usually the times where I get a little envious of how some folks have that significant other who can hold them and comfort them, telling them in a visceral way that things are what they are, that they are still safe-ish, and that they are there for them.
I don't really have that. It can be tiring at times to not have that, but well, it's a life that I have chosen. Do I hope that I will be ``found''? Maybe, but it has the same amount and nature of hope that I have in winning the lottery, considering that I do not partake in it.
------
These days, my vexations revolve around the general thoughts that the so-called ``career'' that I have chosen is fast reaching its natural end of life in terms of exploitable usefulness.
For the confused, allow me to explain.
I love computers---these machines are fun to work with, and the ability to wield such powerful computational devices through careful programming to solve difficult problems. Accidentally or not, I have made working with computers the manner in which I make myself useful in society as a whole.
But lately, I've been getting signals/vibes that this is no longer something that can be viable in as short as five years. The reason that most people will toss about is ``AI'', but the reality is that I think we have reached a saturation point on the types of [useful] computer programs that we can write.
No one needs yet another social media platform, nor do they need another customer management system.
The saturation of software engineering now is no different from the saturation of electrical engineering or civil engineering---there is never a need for even more companies to do all these.
But problem solvers---we're always in need of more of them. And before I was playing with computers, I was a problem solver. And so that's where I am starting to veer towards.
Maybe I will not have much of a ``career'' left, and it's time to move on to do something that only an older, more jaded man can handle.
------
In other news, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 has been a blast to play. As an RPG, it plays like a cross between the typical JRPG and some simplified version of Elden Ring with the dodge and parry mechanic. The save points have just enough distance between them for that perfect bite-sized game play that I seek these days as an older gamer.
I think that's about it for now. Chinese New Year is coming up, and I look forward to the break that comes. Maybe I'll have more to talk about then.
Till the next update.
Friday, January 23, 2026
Not Quite Stream of Consciousness
Well well well. Here we are again. Shall we begin [the storytelling] then?
I started the day loading up my slim hip flask with Maker's Mark, and discovered that it was leaking. I then went on to have the best sushi that I can find, and 750 ml of sake. Then I made my way down to check out New Bahru, and found it a little too bougie for my taste. I had a coffee there with a breakfast set and a big pitcher of water, never likely to return because it demanded I pay by entering my payment information in the web browser from which the orders were made. I headed off to Sentosa, intending to have dinner there, but was told by the folks there that it was ``take away only''. Annoyed, I just went to Siloso Beach, and sat on the sand in my jeans and boots, just staring out into the sea, sipping out all that was left in my hip flask, and listening to the lapping of the waves. As the sun started its journey down, I walked back from Beach Station first to the Lego to ogle at the Concorde and Space Shuttle transport, before heading to VivoCity via the causeway on foot, and ended up at Brotzeit, where I had a 0.5 l of bier, a negroni, and chicken-cheese wurst with mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. And at each point where I stopped to eat, I played tangrams with the pocket tangram puzzle from Shire Post Mint, or read Foundation & Earth. The day ended as I finally took the train back home from Harbourfront.
Folks came out of the woodwork to wish me happy birthday, and for the most part I was thankful. I wasn't really expecting anyone to do that, and even for one I lapsed back to my usual refrain of not really wanting to remember when it was that my birthday be. Because realistically, while I have turned a slightly different attitude ever since my odometer rolled over to begin with a four, some habits just die hard. But the damage was done, and I see no reason to try and salvage it since it is minor at best.
And I remember it all as it was yesterday.
------
Cycling. Went for it. It's been nearly half a year since I last did my cycling. Three things stood out as to why: I was rudely propositioned by a man while I was cycling bare-chested due to the heat; my usual cycling time of Wednesday lunch time was rudely disrupted when someone decided to cancel the flexible one-day-work-from-home due to some rumoured pettiness; I had a weird chest pain to the left of my sternum that I had been monitoring and have concluded that it was costochronditis and not something relating to my heart---it got better once I started to switch the way in which I was lifting my stupidly heavy bag [with my left arm]. Of the three, I do not know which was the worst.
The tyres were deflated, and my pump was also a bit messed up with its own gauge---I filled up the front tyre, saw the gauge losing pressure even as the tyre felt turgid, got afraid, emptied it all and refilled it back to the 100 psi that it was to be. Thank God, it worked well, and I went back to the usual North-East Riverine Loop, albeit with a course correction to avoid the still-in-progress construction just before the entrance into Punggol Primary School. Pacing was fine, and there seems to be nothing unusual to report. I did have to take a nap, but that was normal given the circumstances.
And now I'm writing short entries here.
------
Gjb qnlf ntb, V gnyxrq jvgu Cnfgbe. V cvatrq uvz n qnl rneyvre gura ng fvk va gur zbeavat, tvivat uvz n ebhtu bhgyvar bs jung jnf tbvat ba abj, naq nfxrq vs ur unq gur gvzr bire gur arkg srj qnlf jura V jnf ba yrnir gb zrrg, pung, naq cenl gbtrgure. Jr zrg, naq gnyxrq n ybg nobhg jung vg jnf gung jnf ohttvat zr. Gur fvghngvba ng jbex jnf n gevttre, ohg vg jnf abg gur pnhfr---V jnf ybfg nf gb jurer vg jnf gung V fubhyq or urnqvat. Cnfgbe'f nqivpr sebz gur Ovoyvpny crefcrpgvir jnf gb svefg xrrc va zvaq fgrjneqfuvc znggref, naq gura or jvyyvat gb rkcyber orlbaq jung vg jnf gung V jnf pbzsbegnoyr jvgu. Sbe V zragvbarq gur tenqhny qvfvyyhfvbazrag bs gur pbecbengr raivebazrag, naq jnagrq gb frr vs gurer jnf n jnl gb gnc vagb jung vg jnf gung Tbq tnir zr gb uryc crbcyr. Abg gung jungrire V jnf qbvat jnf abg urycvat crbcyr, ohg gung V jnagrq gb frr vs gurer jnf fbzrguvat ryfr bgure guna orvat sbeprq gb pyvzo gur pbecbengr ynqqre gur jnl gung n erprag zrrg hc jvgu nabgure crefba bs n zber pbecbengr-fynag jnf fnlvat. Cnfgbe tnir zr znal guvatf gb guvax nobhg, naq V guvax V fubhyq ernyyl guvax nobhg gurz frevbhfyl. Bar bs juvpu jnf n phevbhf dhrfgvba nf gb gur angher bs zl perngvivgl: jnf V n perngbe jub eriryyrq ng znxvat guvatf narj, be jnf V na nffrzoyre jub chg guvatf gbtrgure va perngvir jnlf gb fbyir ceboyrzf (nyy grezf zl bja).
I picked up The Big Flute from WindWorks, who had been praised to be of a good make. Mechanisms were cleaned, re-oiled, and adjusted, and the tarnish has been made gone. Played with a modified aluminium dizi in F too, and that was fun. Aurelia had her footjoint tenon looked at due to roughness, and that had been resolved too. Had dinner at Collin's at Woodleigh Mall, and then home I went.
------
Four days earlier, I heard the confirmation that some folks were leaving, and just felt a pang of sadness. It was normal, and nothing to be too worried about, I think. Other machinations were happening beyond my control, but I have done what I could within the ambit of my control, and now into God's hands I leave them.
------
Three days ago, I was finishing up with the follow-up of various things that I needed to do before I embarked on ``I'm forty-one bitches!'' break. I treated folks to lunch with some of the fun money I had set aside, and they reciprocated with a troll-y and ironic cake that featured gold and money on it. We all had a good laugh, and had good cake. Dinner was at Brotzeit, where I had two 0.5 l of bier, shared a wurst platter, and eventually downed whatever I had left of my 18-year Glenfiddich (probably 4 to 5 shots).
------
Five days ago, I was serving in the Music Ministry, and as I cleaned out Aurelia at the end of the worship service, a Brother came up to thank me for playing, saying how much he liked the sound of the flute. It gave me a soft glow that I could not understand, but it pleased me.
------
Nine days ago I was asked when was the last time I was happy, and got confused, saying that I don't remember being happy for quite a long time, but had been contented. I was pressed a bit more, and then I realised that the last time I was truly happy was six years ago, and ever since then nothing has ever been the same.
------
Gjb qnlf ntb Cnfgbe gnyxrq jvgu zr, naq n jbexvat qvntabfgvp jr unq jnf gung V jnf qbvat pngrtbevfngvbaf bs eryngvbafuvcf hapbafpvbhfyl, cbffvoyl nf n ernpgvba gb gur fpnef gung jrer cerfrag sebz fvk lrnef ntb. Gur bgure nqivpr jrer tvira haqre gur pbagrkg gung vg jnf abg n ynpx bs pncnpvgl gung jnf ubyqvat zr onpx, ohg gung bs pubvpr.
------
Guerr qnlf ntb, V pbasvqrq jvgu fbzrbar gb gryy gurz gung V unq pbagnpgrq Cnfgbe ng n gvzr jura V jnfa'g shyyl oenvavat whfg fb gung V pbhyq fgneg haqrefgnaqvat gur pubvprf gung V unq znqr, dhbgvat sebz gur Benpyr bs Gur Zngevk gung V unir nyernql znqr gur pubvpr(f), ohg V arrqrq gb haqrefgnaq jul.
------
Five days ago, Golan Trevize chose Galaxia over Foundation and Second Foundation in Foundation's Edge, and he's trying to find out why he made that choice in Foundation & Earth.
------
Today I sit here, thinking back what transpired before, and trying to put things down here as a glimpse of what happened, while trying to leave enough out so that I can have a peace of mind. I remember the conversations, the thoughts, the few dreams that came up these few days, the connections that occurred here and there. I know not what else to talk about, and this is then where I stop before I head on to continue my playthrough of Persona 5 Royal, having completed Mad Max nearly a week before.
Till the next update.
I started the day loading up my slim hip flask with Maker's Mark, and discovered that it was leaking. I then went on to have the best sushi that I can find, and 750 ml of sake. Then I made my way down to check out New Bahru, and found it a little too bougie for my taste. I had a coffee there with a breakfast set and a big pitcher of water, never likely to return because it demanded I pay by entering my payment information in the web browser from which the orders were made. I headed off to Sentosa, intending to have dinner there, but was told by the folks there that it was ``take away only''. Annoyed, I just went to Siloso Beach, and sat on the sand in my jeans and boots, just staring out into the sea, sipping out all that was left in my hip flask, and listening to the lapping of the waves. As the sun started its journey down, I walked back from Beach Station first to the Lego to ogle at the Concorde and Space Shuttle transport, before heading to VivoCity via the causeway on foot, and ended up at Brotzeit, where I had a 0.5 l of bier, a negroni, and chicken-cheese wurst with mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. And at each point where I stopped to eat, I played tangrams with the pocket tangram puzzle from Shire Post Mint, or read Foundation & Earth. The day ended as I finally took the train back home from Harbourfront.
Folks came out of the woodwork to wish me happy birthday, and for the most part I was thankful. I wasn't really expecting anyone to do that, and even for one I lapsed back to my usual refrain of not really wanting to remember when it was that my birthday be. Because realistically, while I have turned a slightly different attitude ever since my odometer rolled over to begin with a four, some habits just die hard. But the damage was done, and I see no reason to try and salvage it since it is minor at best.
And I remember it all as it was yesterday.
------
Cycling. Went for it. It's been nearly half a year since I last did my cycling. Three things stood out as to why: I was rudely propositioned by a man while I was cycling bare-chested due to the heat; my usual cycling time of Wednesday lunch time was rudely disrupted when someone decided to cancel the flexible one-day-work-from-home due to some rumoured pettiness; I had a weird chest pain to the left of my sternum that I had been monitoring and have concluded that it was costochronditis and not something relating to my heart---it got better once I started to switch the way in which I was lifting my stupidly heavy bag [with my left arm]. Of the three, I do not know which was the worst.
The tyres were deflated, and my pump was also a bit messed up with its own gauge---I filled up the front tyre, saw the gauge losing pressure even as the tyre felt turgid, got afraid, emptied it all and refilled it back to the 100 psi that it was to be. Thank God, it worked well, and I went back to the usual North-East Riverine Loop, albeit with a course correction to avoid the still-in-progress construction just before the entrance into Punggol Primary School. Pacing was fine, and there seems to be nothing unusual to report. I did have to take a nap, but that was normal given the circumstances.
And now I'm writing short entries here.
------
Gjb qnlf ntb, V gnyxrq jvgu Cnfgbe. V cvatrq uvz n qnl rneyvre gura ng fvk va gur zbeavat, tvivat uvz n ebhtu bhgyvar bs jung jnf tbvat ba abj, naq nfxrq vs ur unq gur gvzr bire gur arkg srj qnlf jura V jnf ba yrnir gb zrrg, pung, naq cenl gbtrgure. Jr zrg, naq gnyxrq n ybg nobhg jung vg jnf gung jnf ohttvat zr. Gur fvghngvba ng jbex jnf n gevttre, ohg vg jnf abg gur pnhfr---V jnf ybfg nf gb jurer vg jnf gung V fubhyq or urnqvat. Cnfgbe'f nqivpr sebz gur Ovoyvpny crefcrpgvir jnf gb svefg xrrc va zvaq fgrjneqfuvc znggref, naq gura or jvyyvat gb rkcyber orlbaq jung vg jnf gung V jnf pbzsbegnoyr jvgu. Sbe V zragvbarq gur tenqhny qvfvyyhfvbazrag bs gur pbecbengr raivebazrag, naq jnagrq gb frr vs gurer jnf n jnl gb gnc vagb jung vg jnf gung Tbq tnir zr gb uryc crbcyr. Abg gung jungrire V jnf qbvat jnf abg urycvat crbcyr, ohg gung V jnagrq gb frr vs gurer jnf fbzrguvat ryfr bgure guna orvat sbeprq gb pyvzo gur pbecbengr ynqqre gur jnl gung n erprag zrrg hc jvgu nabgure crefba bs n zber pbecbengr-fynag jnf fnlvat. Cnfgbe tnir zr znal guvatf gb guvax nobhg, naq V guvax V fubhyq ernyyl guvax nobhg gurz frevbhfyl. Bar bs juvpu jnf n phevbhf dhrfgvba nf gb gur angher bs zl perngvivgl: jnf V n perngbe jub eriryyrq ng znxvat guvatf narj, be jnf V na nffrzoyre jub chg guvatf gbtrgure va perngvir jnlf gb fbyir ceboyrzf (nyy grezf zl bja).
I picked up The Big Flute from WindWorks, who had been praised to be of a good make. Mechanisms were cleaned, re-oiled, and adjusted, and the tarnish has been made gone. Played with a modified aluminium dizi in F too, and that was fun. Aurelia had her footjoint tenon looked at due to roughness, and that had been resolved too. Had dinner at Collin's at Woodleigh Mall, and then home I went.
------
Four days earlier, I heard the confirmation that some folks were leaving, and just felt a pang of sadness. It was normal, and nothing to be too worried about, I think. Other machinations were happening beyond my control, but I have done what I could within the ambit of my control, and now into God's hands I leave them.
------
Three days ago, I was finishing up with the follow-up of various things that I needed to do before I embarked on ``I'm forty-one bitches!'' break. I treated folks to lunch with some of the fun money I had set aside, and they reciprocated with a troll-y and ironic cake that featured gold and money on it. We all had a good laugh, and had good cake. Dinner was at Brotzeit, where I had two 0.5 l of bier, shared a wurst platter, and eventually downed whatever I had left of my 18-year Glenfiddich (probably 4 to 5 shots).
------
Five days ago, I was serving in the Music Ministry, and as I cleaned out Aurelia at the end of the worship service, a Brother came up to thank me for playing, saying how much he liked the sound of the flute. It gave me a soft glow that I could not understand, but it pleased me.
------
Nine days ago I was asked when was the last time I was happy, and got confused, saying that I don't remember being happy for quite a long time, but had been contented. I was pressed a bit more, and then I realised that the last time I was truly happy was six years ago, and ever since then nothing has ever been the same.
------
Gjb qnlf ntb Cnfgbe gnyxrq jvgu zr, naq n jbexvat qvntabfgvp jr unq jnf gung V jnf qbvat pngrtbevfngvbaf bs eryngvbafuvcf hapbafpvbhfyl, cbffvoyl nf n ernpgvba gb gur fpnef gung jrer cerfrag sebz fvk lrnef ntb. Gur bgure nqivpr jrer tvira haqre gur pbagrkg gung vg jnf abg n ynpx bs pncnpvgl gung jnf ubyqvat zr onpx, ohg gung bs pubvpr.
------
Guerr qnlf ntb, V pbasvqrq jvgu fbzrbar gb gryy gurz gung V unq pbagnpgrq Cnfgbe ng n gvzr jura V jnfa'g shyyl oenvavat whfg fb gung V pbhyq fgneg haqrefgnaqvat gur pubvprf gung V unq znqr, dhbgvat sebz gur Benpyr bs Gur Zngevk gung V unir nyernql znqr gur pubvpr(f), ohg V arrqrq gb haqrefgnaq jul.
------
Five days ago, Golan Trevize chose Galaxia over Foundation and Second Foundation in Foundation's Edge, and he's trying to find out why he made that choice in Foundation & Earth.
------
Today I sit here, thinking back what transpired before, and trying to put things down here as a glimpse of what happened, while trying to leave enough out so that I can have a peace of mind. I remember the conversations, the thoughts, the few dreams that came up these few days, the connections that occurred here and there. I know not what else to talk about, and this is then where I stop before I head on to continue my playthrough of Persona 5 Royal, having completed Mad Max nearly a week before.
Till the next update.
Friday, January 02, 2026
Quick Summary
So, a quick summary of what I had written in 2025:
That's an average of 0.200 pieces of writing a day, compared to 0.123 last year.
Like before, there is no NaNoWriMo entry, and this time, it is because it had imploded completely in 2025-04. So there will never be any more NaNoWriMo, ever.
What's there to reflect on the year past?
Honestly, nothing that I haven't ranted on and on throughout the whole year. I hoped that 2025 wasn't going to be a too much of a shitstorm at the end of 2024, but it has turned out to be quite the shitstorm, and I don't even mean it in a vague-ish sort of way.
The world economy is finally showing its true colours of the malaise and decadence of a plutocratic hypercapitalism involving klepto-kakistocracy with shades of various levels of geronto-autocracy as a form of fig-leaf. And like always, the middle class (or what is left of it) is being crushed from above and below.
``MT, that's a lot of big words!''
If you're new here, it is best to find out what each of the terms I just used mean---I tend to choose my words very carefully in the attempt to bring out the specific nuance that I am going for, all without the use of Generative AI.
Not because Generative AI is bad, or that I am too curmudgeonly to use it, but that I find it much more effective and pleasurable to literally use my own words. After all, I did spend a long time reading and using them---it'd be a shame to allow myself to be waste away for the sake of a little convenience, however little that may actually be.
Also, all human parts have this weird ``use it or lose it'' energy-optimisation strategy built-in, and to ensure that my mind is not completely mush from laziness, I do need to exercise it just like how I never skip leg day [from having to run up and down the stairs, as well as to wherever I need to get my commute from].
The year 2026 is already here. I think this is going to be a major turning point for many people, just like how the original COVID-19 was one too. But unlike the global epidemic, I think that this turning point is wholly man-made, and therefore where we end up heading in history is still in the hands of the people who are making the decisions.
I have nothing inspiring to say---I just don't feel inspired. I just want to pass the upcoming year quietly, and without incident.
But I think that it might be too much to ask for.
- 2 poems posted here
- 68 essays/rants posted here
- 1 prose/stories posted here
- 2 pieces of compositions/rearrangements posted here
That's an average of 0.200 pieces of writing a day, compared to 0.123 last year.
Like before, there is no NaNoWriMo entry, and this time, it is because it had imploded completely in 2025-04. So there will never be any more NaNoWriMo, ever.
What's there to reflect on the year past?
Honestly, nothing that I haven't ranted on and on throughout the whole year. I hoped that 2025 wasn't going to be a too much of a shitstorm at the end of 2024, but it has turned out to be quite the shitstorm, and I don't even mean it in a vague-ish sort of way.
The world economy is finally showing its true colours of the malaise and decadence of a plutocratic hypercapitalism involving klepto-kakistocracy with shades of various levels of geronto-autocracy as a form of fig-leaf. And like always, the middle class (or what is left of it) is being crushed from above and below.
``MT, that's a lot of big words!''
If you're new here, it is best to find out what each of the terms I just used mean---I tend to choose my words very carefully in the attempt to bring out the specific nuance that I am going for, all without the use of Generative AI.
Not because Generative AI is bad, or that I am too curmudgeonly to use it, but that I find it much more effective and pleasurable to literally use my own words. After all, I did spend a long time reading and using them---it'd be a shame to allow myself to be waste away for the sake of a little convenience, however little that may actually be.
Also, all human parts have this weird ``use it or lose it'' energy-optimisation strategy built-in, and to ensure that my mind is not completely mush from laziness, I do need to exercise it just like how I never skip leg day [from having to run up and down the stairs, as well as to wherever I need to get my commute from].
The year 2026 is already here. I think this is going to be a major turning point for many people, just like how the original COVID-19 was one too. But unlike the global epidemic, I think that this turning point is wholly man-made, and therefore where we end up heading in history is still in the hands of the people who are making the decisions.
I have nothing inspiring to say---I just don't feel inspired. I just want to pass the upcoming year quietly, and without incident.
But I think that it might be too much to ask for.
Monday, December 29, 2025
Comically Oversized Apple
I ventured farther than ``downstairs'' today. All in the search for this:
Okay, I did more than just look for a comically oversized apple, but one of the goals was to find the comically oversized apple. It's sort of a nostalgia trip---a core memory I had from way back when was that I won something, and Mr Lin Min asked what I wanted as a prize, and I said ``a large apple'', and he fuckin' delivered. I think it was just a ``regular'' fuji apple instead of the ironically named ``red delicious'', but when one's a wee kid, that apple is comically oversized, and I remembered grinning like an idiot at it for quite a few days before finally eating it.
------
It has been a while since I last stepped onto the famous Orchard Road in SIN City. Now, to be fair, the road itself is not too shabby---five-metre wide sidewalks that allow a good amount of walking without getting run into by people [for the most part], and the remnants of 2025's Christmas decorations still lining the one direction road itself.
But Orchard Road the metonym never really sat well with me. It is the epitome of profligate consumerism, with brand names dotting every possible retail space as idolatory shrines, with their cult-like worshippers in the rattiest clothing flocking eagerly to suck on the teat of the mighty brand by buying whatever over-priced campy knick-knack that is on sale.
``MT, don't you buy really expensive shit too?''
Well... yes. Just not in the form of jewellery, watches, handbags, clothing and the like. I mean, I can make the argument of utility here, but realistically, I'm just not a fan of these crazy brand name things. Especially not after a certain conglomeration effectively controls the seemingly disparate brands. To be fair, there are also other such conglomerates, but this one is just a bit too easy to remember.
In other words, the exclusivity that people are seeking through these brand names are effectively a sham. But then again, the people who end up buying these items don't want something so exclusive that no one knows that they have just spent ${large-number}-dollars on the thing.
A-hem. Anyway, Orchard Road. Good walk from Orchard Station all the way to Dhoby Ghaut Station. The trip to Orchard Station involved navigating the cluster-fuck that is now happening at Ang Mo Kio Station due to its expansion into an interchange for the CRL. The route from the bus stop to the station isn't complicated, but the fools who walk the narrow pathways... Mein Gott!---absolute cunts they are. Sauntering in the middle of the fucking pathway, walking two/three abreast over a space that is no larger than two metres; it's enough to piss me off.
Since they didn't give a damn about others, I decided to return the favour Exodus/Hammurabi's Code style. But to explain that requires a small divergence into something a little off-tangent.
I used to walk like a normal person, you know, arms swinging to the front and back. Then I smacked someone on the rear swing at some point, and reduced it to just from the neutral to the front, with the added benefit of not giving someone behind a free arm to lever into a lock. Then at some point between 2019 and now, the sheer number of people being packed into a unit square of fixed dimensions went up, and coincidentally, the idea of personal space/courtesy went down. That's when I started to switch over to the so-called ``interview stance'' when I don't have my backpack in front, which has one's hands between the belt and the chest, front facing, neutral, but ready to move where necessary. From this position, if something/someone stupid comes in, I can at least parry off and/or guard. With my backpack in front, I don't usually have to do weird things like that, but instead just touch my opposite shoulder with my hand to create a nice elbow lead for anyone who wants to push themselves into my backpack-leading front.
For the purposes of the story though, the backpack is where it ought to be (i.e. behind), and I'm just walking. I raised a guard, and just walked through the space without losing momentum. I think I heard swearing, but I had my noise-cancelling earphones, and had already walked on, including crossing the road.
``MT, couldn't you just say `excuse me' like a civilised person?''
I could. But no one is listening to anyone anyway, and I've also gotten to the point in my life where I realise that if no one else gives any fucks, then I'd be a monkey's uncle if I abode by the same.
AAaaaaaaaaanyway, Orchard Road. Nice walk. I went into Ngee Ann City for a spell, and had lunch out at OrchardGateway on a whim. Hopped on the NEL for one stop to Clarke Quay Station to swing by the Don Don Donki there to get the comically oversized apple, and other supplies. And yes, it included some Nikka Black Deep Blend Whisky, which is damn strong (or I'm getting damn weak only chugging parallel imported Jack Daniel's).
------
In other news, I found myself playing Mad Max on Steam. It's... under-rated, for sure. It has that Borderlands vibe with Batman: Arkham Asylum combat mechanics. I'm still in the early game, but it has gotten me hooked.
I think that's about it for now. Till the next update, I suppose.
Oh, and that comically oversized apple? It's really too much apple for one person at one sitting. Also, I think it might actually be a Hokuto.
------
It has been a while since I last stepped onto the famous Orchard Road in SIN City. Now, to be fair, the road itself is not too shabby---five-metre wide sidewalks that allow a good amount of walking without getting run into by people [for the most part], and the remnants of 2025's Christmas decorations still lining the one direction road itself.
But Orchard Road the metonym never really sat well with me. It is the epitome of profligate consumerism, with brand names dotting every possible retail space as idolatory shrines, with their cult-like worshippers in the rattiest clothing flocking eagerly to suck on the teat of the mighty brand by buying whatever over-priced campy knick-knack that is on sale.
``MT, don't you buy really expensive shit too?''
Well... yes. Just not in the form of jewellery, watches, handbags, clothing and the like. I mean, I can make the argument of utility here, but realistically, I'm just not a fan of these crazy brand name things. Especially not after a certain conglomeration effectively controls the seemingly disparate brands. To be fair, there are also other such conglomerates, but this one is just a bit too easy to remember.
In other words, the exclusivity that people are seeking through these brand names are effectively a sham. But then again, the people who end up buying these items don't want something so exclusive that no one knows that they have just spent ${large-number}-dollars on the thing.
A-hem. Anyway, Orchard Road. Good walk from Orchard Station all the way to Dhoby Ghaut Station. The trip to Orchard Station involved navigating the cluster-fuck that is now happening at Ang Mo Kio Station due to its expansion into an interchange for the CRL. The route from the bus stop to the station isn't complicated, but the fools who walk the narrow pathways... Mein Gott!---absolute cunts they are. Sauntering in the middle of the fucking pathway, walking two/three abreast over a space that is no larger than two metres; it's enough to piss me off.
Since they didn't give a damn about others, I decided to return the favour Exodus/Hammurabi's Code style. But to explain that requires a small divergence into something a little off-tangent.
I used to walk like a normal person, you know, arms swinging to the front and back. Then I smacked someone on the rear swing at some point, and reduced it to just from the neutral to the front, with the added benefit of not giving someone behind a free arm to lever into a lock. Then at some point between 2019 and now, the sheer number of people being packed into a unit square of fixed dimensions went up, and coincidentally, the idea of personal space/courtesy went down. That's when I started to switch over to the so-called ``interview stance'' when I don't have my backpack in front, which has one's hands between the belt and the chest, front facing, neutral, but ready to move where necessary. From this position, if something/someone stupid comes in, I can at least parry off and/or guard. With my backpack in front, I don't usually have to do weird things like that, but instead just touch my opposite shoulder with my hand to create a nice elbow lead for anyone who wants to push themselves into my backpack-leading front.
For the purposes of the story though, the backpack is where it ought to be (i.e. behind), and I'm just walking. I raised a guard, and just walked through the space without losing momentum. I think I heard swearing, but I had my noise-cancelling earphones, and had already walked on, including crossing the road.
``MT, couldn't you just say `excuse me' like a civilised person?''
I could. But no one is listening to anyone anyway, and I've also gotten to the point in my life where I realise that if no one else gives any fucks, then I'd be a monkey's uncle if I abode by the same.
AAaaaaaaaaanyway, Orchard Road. Nice walk. I went into Ngee Ann City for a spell, and had lunch out at OrchardGateway on a whim. Hopped on the NEL for one stop to Clarke Quay Station to swing by the Don Don Donki there to get the comically oversized apple, and other supplies. And yes, it included some Nikka Black Deep Blend Whisky, which is damn strong (or I'm getting damn weak only chugging parallel imported Jack Daniel's).
------
In other news, I found myself playing Mad Max on Steam. It's... under-rated, for sure. It has that Borderlands vibe with Batman: Arkham Asylum combat mechanics. I'm still in the early game, but it has gotten me hooked.
I think that's about it for now. Till the next update, I suppose.
Oh, and that comically oversized apple? It's really too much apple for one person at one sitting. Also, I think it might actually be a Hokuto.
Saturday, December 27, 2025
Decide...
When a choice is made, it necessitates an excision of all other choices other than the one that one has chosen to proceed with. Such is the nature of choice, and the associated jargon of ``discrimination''.
But the spurring of all other options to commit to the one choice that one decides on is scary, because commitment is scary, with the one true reason why few dare to leap head first into this.
What if the choice you made... was wrong?
There is no one out there who has to make decisions that do not have this thought lurking at the back of their minds---absolutely no one. The only times where this poses little issues are when the choices to be made are trivial and of no consequence (``Should I wear this shirt or the other today?''). For all other times, there is always that foreboding sense of a choice that was made in error, with the associated need to live through the consequences that come about.
But here's the thing. I think that for the most part, almost all decisions that we make do not matter at all from the perspective of ``correct'' and ``wrong''. The reason is that fundamentally, the choices that are made have consequences that spread out into the time beyond, and given the innate flexibility and adaptability of being humans, even the ``wrong'' decision can lead to a favourable (but possibly previously unaccounted for) outcome, should one continue to improvise, adapt, and overcome.
Therefore, the choices that we make are really determining from whence we are beginning our chain of consequences from.
This scenario matters less so should we be the only people who are affected by our decisions (which itself can be considered an over-simplification---how many times have a ``decision that is only affecting ourselves'' end up spiralling out of our ambit and end up troubling others?), but in the event where there is an immediate effect upon the people who are around us, the stakes are a little higher.
Then the usual methodology for decision-making is under the Kantian concept of the categorical imperative:
``But MT, doesn't this eschew the consequences, which is sort of what you are talking about?''
In a way, yes. As I said, the consequences from a decision matter in the sense of where we start from along the chain of consequences---decisions are not static, and neither are the actions that come from them. If we choose a ``good'' choice over a ``bad'' one, we may start from a favourable consequence, but there is no guarantee that the favourable consequence will remain favourable to the extent in which we are bothered enough to track the chain of events. Choosing a ``bad'' choice may put us on a ``bad'' start, but no one can say if the way thereon is only down, and not up.
But what matters then in choices is about convincing enough people that the choice that is to be made at that point in time is the ``best'' one. To do that, we need to explain to others who are affected by our choices why we are making them. The more they can share the context (i.e. assumptions and observations) that we have in making the decision, the more they can be convinced that we are choosing correctly. And the more they are convinced, the more they are likely to have the right buy-in, with the result of influencing the chain of events towards a direction that everyone is happy to be in.
Then what is the best way to achieve a greater shared context to reason from? The easiest is to have shared values, but the danger of having too much of an overlap of values is the subsequent shared blind-spots that come from having almost the same values, without the awareness of other possibilities that are out there. The next more objective form is to get measurements under the hypotheses that govern the choices to be made---if the methodology for these measurements and hypotheses testing can be agreed upon, then there is a shared pool of knowledge from which to reason from, thus creating that necessary shared context to decide from.
When the decision has been made, a good faith effort to commit to it should be applied---if the defense of the decision has been done right, this should not come as a surprise. But like all things involving actions, the decisions themselves need to be revisited whenever new relevant information/knowledge enters into awareness---this is the part that many people forget to do, which explains why people tend to over-emphasise making the ``correct'' decision, instead of making a timely and good-enough decision, and rolling with it until new relevant information questions the relevance and correctness of the previous decision.
If re-examining a past decision is hard, rescinding the previous decision to correct for the updated circumstances to issue a new one is even harder. Because it means having to admit that one is wrong, and in the modern society of heroes, the decision-maker can apparently never be wrong because that's a serious flaw of character.
To which I exclaim: ``Bollocks!'' The time for prophets are over, and even when prophets roamed the earth, they made prophesies that were ``understood'' to be eventually coming true, and not of an immediate nature. Making mistakes should be tolerated, and if the mistakes are righted, the entire action loop should be celebrated, studied, and venerated.
Because that's how we learn new things!
What's the point of being correct all the time? How do you know that you are correct because your process of reaching a decision is correct, or if you are just damn lucky? Want to feel like an imposter? That's easy---never make mistakes and create a complex on yourself on whether do you truly know what you are doing, or if you are just an undeserving hack.
SIN City does not tolerate mistakes. SIN City penalises mistakes. A person who made a ``big mistake'' is condemned, shunned, and marked for a long time as ``he who made a `big mistake' ''. That's why the Yellow Ribbon project has to exist, and even then, it is at best a fig leaf.
Because SIN City does not tolerate mistakes.
``MT, what's the point of this tirade again?''
You tell me. I'm just venting randomly during the last few days of 2025.
But the spurring of all other options to commit to the one choice that one decides on is scary, because commitment is scary, with the one true reason why few dare to leap head first into this.
What if the choice you made... was wrong?
There is no one out there who has to make decisions that do not have this thought lurking at the back of their minds---absolutely no one. The only times where this poses little issues are when the choices to be made are trivial and of no consequence (``Should I wear this shirt or the other today?''). For all other times, there is always that foreboding sense of a choice that was made in error, with the associated need to live through the consequences that come about.
But here's the thing. I think that for the most part, almost all decisions that we make do not matter at all from the perspective of ``correct'' and ``wrong''. The reason is that fundamentally, the choices that are made have consequences that spread out into the time beyond, and given the innate flexibility and adaptability of being humans, even the ``wrong'' decision can lead to a favourable (but possibly previously unaccounted for) outcome, should one continue to improvise, adapt, and overcome.
Therefore, the choices that we make are really determining from whence we are beginning our chain of consequences from.
This scenario matters less so should we be the only people who are affected by our decisions (which itself can be considered an over-simplification---how many times have a ``decision that is only affecting ourselves'' end up spiralling out of our ambit and end up troubling others?), but in the event where there is an immediate effect upon the people who are around us, the stakes are a little higher.
Then the usual methodology for decision-making is under the Kantian concept of the categorical imperative:
Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.Effectively, a decision needs to be made in a form consistent with defensibility by a rational person, which may not involve a quantitative approach the way a utilitarian might go for (because almost all numbers are made-up due to reframing and rationalisation, and humans are realistically not as numerately literate as we like to believe ourselves to be).
---Immanuel Kant
``But MT, doesn't this eschew the consequences, which is sort of what you are talking about?''
In a way, yes. As I said, the consequences from a decision matter in the sense of where we start from along the chain of consequences---decisions are not static, and neither are the actions that come from them. If we choose a ``good'' choice over a ``bad'' one, we may start from a favourable consequence, but there is no guarantee that the favourable consequence will remain favourable to the extent in which we are bothered enough to track the chain of events. Choosing a ``bad'' choice may put us on a ``bad'' start, but no one can say if the way thereon is only down, and not up.
But what matters then in choices is about convincing enough people that the choice that is to be made at that point in time is the ``best'' one. To do that, we need to explain to others who are affected by our choices why we are making them. The more they can share the context (i.e. assumptions and observations) that we have in making the decision, the more they can be convinced that we are choosing correctly. And the more they are convinced, the more they are likely to have the right buy-in, with the result of influencing the chain of events towards a direction that everyone is happy to be in.
Then what is the best way to achieve a greater shared context to reason from? The easiest is to have shared values, but the danger of having too much of an overlap of values is the subsequent shared blind-spots that come from having almost the same values, without the awareness of other possibilities that are out there. The next more objective form is to get measurements under the hypotheses that govern the choices to be made---if the methodology for these measurements and hypotheses testing can be agreed upon, then there is a shared pool of knowledge from which to reason from, thus creating that necessary shared context to decide from.
When the decision has been made, a good faith effort to commit to it should be applied---if the defense of the decision has been done right, this should not come as a surprise. But like all things involving actions, the decisions themselves need to be revisited whenever new relevant information/knowledge enters into awareness---this is the part that many people forget to do, which explains why people tend to over-emphasise making the ``correct'' decision, instead of making a timely and good-enough decision, and rolling with it until new relevant information questions the relevance and correctness of the previous decision.
If re-examining a past decision is hard, rescinding the previous decision to correct for the updated circumstances to issue a new one is even harder. Because it means having to admit that one is wrong, and in the modern society of heroes, the decision-maker can apparently never be wrong because that's a serious flaw of character.
To which I exclaim: ``Bollocks!'' The time for prophets are over, and even when prophets roamed the earth, they made prophesies that were ``understood'' to be eventually coming true, and not of an immediate nature. Making mistakes should be tolerated, and if the mistakes are righted, the entire action loop should be celebrated, studied, and venerated.
Because that's how we learn new things!
What's the point of being correct all the time? How do you know that you are correct because your process of reaching a decision is correct, or if you are just damn lucky? Want to feel like an imposter? That's easy---never make mistakes and create a complex on yourself on whether do you truly know what you are doing, or if you are just an undeserving hack.
SIN City does not tolerate mistakes. SIN City penalises mistakes. A person who made a ``big mistake'' is condemned, shunned, and marked for a long time as ``he who made a `big mistake' ''. That's why the Yellow Ribbon project has to exist, and even then, it is at best a fig leaf.
Because SIN City does not tolerate mistakes.
``MT, what's the point of this tirade again?''
You tell me. I'm just venting randomly during the last few days of 2025.
Friday, December 26, 2025
Good Ol' Times?
Were the old days really good, or is it one of those delusions that come from the fact that [human] memories of events passed are always rewritten each time they are being retrieved, and are therefore not even remotely accurate about what they were?
I'm not even talking about the current trend of the sixty-/seventy-year-old politician taking over their country trying to bring back ``the good ol' times'' because the current generation (which?) has brought on enough decadence to decimate what is considered the core of the nation's identity and prestige.
I'm just talking about the whole ``nostalgia'' factor that afflicts us in one way or another. It is the kind of reason why someone might want to go back to an ex-anything (girlfriend/boyfriend, company), or to revert to some kind of earlier behaviour in the face of issues that stem from the current behaviour. It is the kind of meaningless argument that is trumpeted about as the ``final word'' when there seems to be no other viable arguments left to be made in a debate.
Personally, I don't think the old days were really good, when compared to the present. The key premise here that I am relying on is the idea that personal agency of choice is a key component of separating the self from the not-self, and that more [relevant] knowledge/information often leadsd to better choices that can be made. In other words, I think that ``good'' happens when one can make better choices than before due to the knowing of more [relevant] information.
In that sense then, the old days were not good at all. The ideas of decorum and etiquette were based on society rules that were put in place by the privileged few, and even so, their politeness acted as a fig leaf over the still-existent discrimination that comes about from [deliberate] incomplete information for actions and states of being that do not conform to what is widely believed as the norm. It may be good for the majority of people then (we'll use 80% a la 80/20 rule ceteris paribus), but for the minority who had to live through that, it can be a true living hell.
And the thing is, what is majority and minority is never set in stone. So to make an unqualified statement of ``the good ol' times'' is to make yet another improbable [population] assumption that will age poorly in time to come.
Now compound this with the observation that memory is always retrieved in the manner in which it was last remembered (i.e. retrieved). A contradiction of sorts, but such is the mechanism of the original abstract demonstration of sentience before all the logic theories and Turing tests. The ``good ol' days'' are just an exaggeration of the parts of memory that we believe to be ``good'', where the quotation marks are to indicate that it is a heavily biased/conditioned context that we are referring to said memory. Just as the cringeworthy moments remain exceedingly embarrassing on recall, the ``good stuff'' are also exceedingly ``good'' on recall as well---the mind works on the same general middleware regardless of the valence of the specific thought. It is, from neurological formulations, an example of the ``network effect'', where the ``rich get richer'' (i.e. the more retrieved the memory, the more the memory is strengthened), but with the caveat that each time the memory is retrieved, it needs to be rewritten as part of the retrieval process.
Which means that we can actually self-brainwash to believe something when it isn't so, whether we realise it or not.
The infidelity of memory is why there has been a change in eye-witness interview protocol in the face of an inquest into a criminal act---no one is supposed to talk to the eye-witness before the official interview, and that interview needs to occur as early as practically possible from the criminal act's occurrence.
``MT, what about the historical writing?''
I think that the historical writing can show that ``the good ol' times'' are mythological for the most part. First hand accounts are rarely taken in situ, and are often taken years after occurrence. Second hand accounts are summarised works with the benefit of hindsight of many other perspectives that no one from the same era would have easily seen. And when these are written up in the more prevalent manner of the narrative form, hardly any ``good ol' times'' are spelt out---most historical writing is about how badly folks from the past screwed up. Anything writing that makes it sound like it was a dandy old time then are often marked out as propaganda, and more often than not, it is the correct assessment.
It is unlikely that anyone who isn't a propagandist will go through the effort to dig through the records, interview the people, just to write only positive things without identifying the issues that were actually being dealt with by the participants of the era.
So where does this leave us?
A sobering realisation that the past remains there, it wasn't really good, yet many are trying to rewrite that narrative to advance their own agenda.
And that the future is still not wholly certain nor deterministic, and yet can be sufficiently influenced through the actions we take today.
Which therefore means that we should always seize the day, and not let history dictate what actions we ought to be taking.
After all, history is just one of the two advisers we have to make decisions for today.
I'm not even talking about the current trend of the sixty-/seventy-year-old politician taking over their country trying to bring back ``the good ol' times'' because the current generation (which?) has brought on enough decadence to decimate what is considered the core of the nation's identity and prestige.
I'm just talking about the whole ``nostalgia'' factor that afflicts us in one way or another. It is the kind of reason why someone might want to go back to an ex-anything (girlfriend/boyfriend, company), or to revert to some kind of earlier behaviour in the face of issues that stem from the current behaviour. It is the kind of meaningless argument that is trumpeted about as the ``final word'' when there seems to be no other viable arguments left to be made in a debate.
Personally, I don't think the old days were really good, when compared to the present. The key premise here that I am relying on is the idea that personal agency of choice is a key component of separating the self from the not-self, and that more [relevant] knowledge/information often leadsd to better choices that can be made. In other words, I think that ``good'' happens when one can make better choices than before due to the knowing of more [relevant] information.
In that sense then, the old days were not good at all. The ideas of decorum and etiquette were based on society rules that were put in place by the privileged few, and even so, their politeness acted as a fig leaf over the still-existent discrimination that comes about from [deliberate] incomplete information for actions and states of being that do not conform to what is widely believed as the norm. It may be good for the majority of people then (we'll use 80% a la 80/20 rule ceteris paribus), but for the minority who had to live through that, it can be a true living hell.
And the thing is, what is majority and minority is never set in stone. So to make an unqualified statement of ``the good ol' times'' is to make yet another improbable [population] assumption that will age poorly in time to come.
Now compound this with the observation that memory is always retrieved in the manner in which it was last remembered (i.e. retrieved). A contradiction of sorts, but such is the mechanism of the original abstract demonstration of sentience before all the logic theories and Turing tests. The ``good ol' days'' are just an exaggeration of the parts of memory that we believe to be ``good'', where the quotation marks are to indicate that it is a heavily biased/conditioned context that we are referring to said memory. Just as the cringeworthy moments remain exceedingly embarrassing on recall, the ``good stuff'' are also exceedingly ``good'' on recall as well---the mind works on the same general middleware regardless of the valence of the specific thought. It is, from neurological formulations, an example of the ``network effect'', where the ``rich get richer'' (i.e. the more retrieved the memory, the more the memory is strengthened), but with the caveat that each time the memory is retrieved, it needs to be rewritten as part of the retrieval process.
Which means that we can actually self-brainwash to believe something when it isn't so, whether we realise it or not.
The infidelity of memory is why there has been a change in eye-witness interview protocol in the face of an inquest into a criminal act---no one is supposed to talk to the eye-witness before the official interview, and that interview needs to occur as early as practically possible from the criminal act's occurrence.
``MT, what about the historical writing?''
I think that the historical writing can show that ``the good ol' times'' are mythological for the most part. First hand accounts are rarely taken in situ, and are often taken years after occurrence. Second hand accounts are summarised works with the benefit of hindsight of many other perspectives that no one from the same era would have easily seen. And when these are written up in the more prevalent manner of the narrative form, hardly any ``good ol' times'' are spelt out---most historical writing is about how badly folks from the past screwed up. Anything writing that makes it sound like it was a dandy old time then are often marked out as propaganda, and more often than not, it is the correct assessment.
It is unlikely that anyone who isn't a propagandist will go through the effort to dig through the records, interview the people, just to write only positive things without identifying the issues that were actually being dealt with by the participants of the era.
So where does this leave us?
A sobering realisation that the past remains there, it wasn't really good, yet many are trying to rewrite that narrative to advance their own agenda.
And that the future is still not wholly certain nor deterministic, and yet can be sufficiently influenced through the actions we take today.
Which therefore means that we should always seize the day, and not let history dictate what actions we ought to be taking.
After all, history is just one of the two advisers we have to make decisions for today.
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