Nothing too depressing today. It should be considered a good thing, I hope.
I've finally finished SCP Foundation Tome 4 of the SCP Foundation e-books (2017-02-01 dump). That just leaves some 8 more tomes to go. At the rate I am going, it seems like it will take me nearly 8 more years before I can finish reading this complete set.
It's okay. It's mostly a guilty pleasure anyway. Kind of my go-to for something light and easy to read when I am not in the mood for something super heavy like a text book/thesis, or something of middling weight like a paper, or something light like some bestseller-type novel.
My current reading list is a little biased towards clearing out the larger sized e-books, and some of the larger paper books that have been lying around for quite a while. Naturally, that link is going to show something rather different if this entry is read on a date that is not temporally close to when this blog entry has gone out.
On the topic of reading still, my copy of An Ethic for Christians & Other Aliens In A Strange Land by William Stringfellow has arrived as well. I will likely start on it soon-ish.
------
This week has been awkward. I am doing more management/coordination work than programming---not sure how to feel about that. It is a thing I suppose, and nothing more. We'll just see what God has in mind. After all, I did not amass knowledge just so that I can sit there and vegetate---I'm pretty sure He has a good reason why I am who I am.
Just need to wait and see, praying to God along the way so as to learn of what His will is.
I don't really have anything else I would like to write here [in public]. The key thing was to document my milestone of finishing another SCP Foundation Tome, that's all.
Till the next update. Hopefully things are as mundane as they are now. Maybe I can slowly move back towards almost not writing any entries in here---it is almost always an inverse relationship between the amount of writing I do here and the level of happiness that I am at.
Saturday, September 26, 2020
Sunday, September 20, 2020
2/3 Through September
Welcome to ``yet more intrusive thoughts documentation''.
Today's set of intrusive thoughts involve the idea of being incognito. Suicide ideation reared its ugly head once more.
Once more, I want to emphasise that this is just a documentation of intrusive thoughts. I am in no way going to act on them.
Anyway this time, it was coupling it with the idea of being incognito. So something like, travel out to somewhere where no one knows who I am, and then just dying out there. Aokigahara comes to mind. Might be considered a great place for what the intrusive thought intends, since it combines several fun activities (travelling to Japan, hiking in a forested area) before the final end itself. Seems to fit the general mood I am feeling now, the compulsion to repulse people from my past, or what I have termed politely as ``hermitting it up''.
Bar guvat lbh'ir abgvprq ol abj vf gung gur yvggyr cnary ba gur evtug vf abj zvffvat gur ``Sevraqf/Npdhnvagnaprf'' one jvgu yvaxf gb bgure oybtf. Ncneg sebz ure, gurer vf ab bar ryfr ernyyl hcqngvat gurve oybtf nal zber. Naq V guvax fur unf svavfurq hc gur ynfg guvatf gung fur pna qb gb phg zr bhg bs ure yvsr. V nz abg oyvaq abe fghcvq---V rkgraqrq n sevraqyl punaary gb erznva nf cyngbavp sevraqf jvgu ure, ohg V xrrc trggvat ernpgvbaf gung fgngr jvgu vapernfvat ubfgvyvgl gung V nz rssrpgviryl crefban aba tengn, fubeg bs orvat gbyq cbvag oynax jvgu pehqr ynathntr gb ``shpx bss''. V pna gnxr n uvag; V'z abg jnagrq naljurer va ure yvsr ntnva. Zrffntr erprvirq ybhq naq pyrne. Gur cngu fur pubfr unf ab zber eryngvba jvgu jung V nz pheeragyl ba, rira vs fur naq V ner fgvyy cynlvat gur fnzr vafgehzragf nf Nznaqn fhppvapgyl chg onpx va gur ortvaavat jura V svefg zrg ure. V'z ab ybatre rira n sevraq; V trg gung. V jvfu ure nyy gur orfg.
Back to the topic of ``hermitting it up''. I think I might have overdone the meeting up with people bit---I am feeling rather distressed, or enervated. Things that spout out of my mouth seem to be misunderstood, offensive, or even strongly committing faux pas. During the run up to each meet up, I feel really energised and happy, because it is about meeting up with an old friend in meat space after so long of being cooped up. Then during the meet up, things seem to go smooth. Then after that, I realise that the ``smoothness'' I felt was all bullshit and I had probably pissed them off.
That's why I chickened out of an online hangout meeting with roticv and YT. That's also why I didn't feel ready when Ding asked me if I wanted to hang out with him and CH. I don't think I can handle it. I just don't think so.
I don't think that the world has a net positive with me in it. Maybe even God will snicker a little when He tries to find a use for someone like me---I wouldn't know; I just pray that He will grant me the wisdom and strength to be ready to receive from Him what my life's goal is. I am just thankful that despite the falling apart of the old social structures that sustained me, I am slowly being made a part of a new one. I don't know if I have pissed them off yet, but they seem to be welcoming still.
I just hope that I don't screw it up.
------
What else is there for me to write here, now? Life is just a cycle of waking up, thanking the Lord for giving me another day of wakefulness, reading and learning from the Scripture, then going about the work day trying to make sense of the chaos that comes from a world that is currently in turmoil from all kinds of nonsense. Then at the end of the day, I break for food, thanking the Lord for giving me access to food before eating, then take the bus home to do more reading of whatever is on my reading list, do some lessons on duolingo, then turn in for the night.
I'm not expecting people to understand me any more. Heck, I'm not even expecting the people I call/called friends to understand me either---they are all on different legs of their lives, most of them have their own families to run, and the last thing I think they need is to have someone whining about how shitty that person's life is despite having a place to stay, a job, and skills that are apparently considered ``hard skills'' in this time and age. ``But MT, aren't you projecting yourself a little too much here? Maybe they are trying to reach out to you to give you the space you might need to bitch about things---have you stopped to consider that?'' Yeah, perhaps I have. Makes me so pathetic right, big grown-ass man with all these feelings that he cannot man-up and stuff it down a chute that he needs people to take pity on him and call him out for a hang out so that he doesn't wallow in his own shitty emotions.
If I knew what it was I wanted, it would have been easier. But for now, I just don't. And talking to people isn't something that I think I want to engage in just yet.
It'll be soooooooo much easier if I were dead. But alas, me being dead now does absolutely nothing to help with advancing the gospel, so it'll have to be on hold for now. It'll happen when it's supposed to happen, so I don't have to worry about advancing it.
------
In other news, the dead-tree version of Instead of Death by William Stringfellow has finally arrived by post. It was a book that was recommended by Brian---I think I might just start reading it. I was a little surprised to find that it was a thin number---I was expecting something like a 300+ page tome of sorts. I have no reason why I would think so, but it was something.
I have also created a new on-line tool that replicated the old Blogger behaviour. In the old behaviour, one could just type and embed some HTML tags as needed, without having to explicitly chuck in some paragraph-tags to delimit the paragraphs. I liked that system because it made the blog flow so much easier---it felt more like writing a blog entry as opposed to coding a blog entry. It was an option that could be enabled in the old Blogger. But thanks to the latest update that was forced upon us, I was stuck with either ``pure'' HTML mode where I had to tag every thing, or in ``pure'' composer mode where I was supposed to work like it was some word processor. There was none of the hybridised behaviour that I was looking for, and it annoyed me.
I write blog entries to get stuff out of my head as fast as possible. Had I wanted to code up an HTML page, I'd just do it in my personal domain.
Perhaps there's still an option like that hiding about---if there is, I haven't seen it. Hence that silly little tool.
Okay, I think I've said as much as I cared to this time. Till the next update, I suppose.
Today's set of intrusive thoughts involve the idea of being incognito. Suicide ideation reared its ugly head once more.
Once more, I want to emphasise that this is just a documentation of intrusive thoughts. I am in no way going to act on them.
Anyway this time, it was coupling it with the idea of being incognito. So something like, travel out to somewhere where no one knows who I am, and then just dying out there. Aokigahara comes to mind. Might be considered a great place for what the intrusive thought intends, since it combines several fun activities (travelling to Japan, hiking in a forested area) before the final end itself. Seems to fit the general mood I am feeling now, the compulsion to repulse people from my past, or what I have termed politely as ``hermitting it up''.
Bar guvat lbh'ir abgvprq ol abj vf gung gur yvggyr cnary ba gur evtug vf abj zvffvat gur ``Sevraqf/Npdhnvagnaprf'' one jvgu yvaxf gb bgure oybtf. Ncneg sebz ure, gurer vf ab bar ryfr ernyyl hcqngvat gurve oybtf nal zber. Naq V guvax fur unf svavfurq hc gur ynfg guvatf gung fur pna qb gb phg zr bhg bs ure yvsr. V nz abg oyvaq abe fghcvq---V rkgraqrq n sevraqyl punaary gb erznva nf cyngbavp sevraqf jvgu ure, ohg V xrrc trggvat ernpgvbaf gung fgngr jvgu vapernfvat ubfgvyvgl gung V nz rssrpgviryl crefban aba tengn, fubeg bs orvat gbyq cbvag oynax jvgu pehqr ynathntr gb ``shpx bss''. V pna gnxr n uvag; V'z abg jnagrq naljurer va ure yvsr ntnva. Zrffntr erprvirq ybhq naq pyrne. Gur cngu fur pubfr unf ab zber eryngvba jvgu jung V nz pheeragyl ba, rira vs fur naq V ner fgvyy cynlvat gur fnzr vafgehzragf nf Nznaqn fhppvapgyl chg onpx va gur ortvaavat jura V svefg zrg ure. V'z ab ybatre rira n sevraq; V trg gung. V jvfu ure nyy gur orfg.
Back to the topic of ``hermitting it up''. I think I might have overdone the meeting up with people bit---I am feeling rather distressed, or enervated. Things that spout out of my mouth seem to be misunderstood, offensive, or even strongly committing faux pas. During the run up to each meet up, I feel really energised and happy, because it is about meeting up with an old friend in meat space after so long of being cooped up. Then during the meet up, things seem to go smooth. Then after that, I realise that the ``smoothness'' I felt was all bullshit and I had probably pissed them off.
That's why I chickened out of an online hangout meeting with roticv and YT. That's also why I didn't feel ready when Ding asked me if I wanted to hang out with him and CH. I don't think I can handle it. I just don't think so.
I don't think that the world has a net positive with me in it. Maybe even God will snicker a little when He tries to find a use for someone like me---I wouldn't know; I just pray that He will grant me the wisdom and strength to be ready to receive from Him what my life's goal is. I am just thankful that despite the falling apart of the old social structures that sustained me, I am slowly being made a part of a new one. I don't know if I have pissed them off yet, but they seem to be welcoming still.
I just hope that I don't screw it up.
------
What else is there for me to write here, now? Life is just a cycle of waking up, thanking the Lord for giving me another day of wakefulness, reading and learning from the Scripture, then going about the work day trying to make sense of the chaos that comes from a world that is currently in turmoil from all kinds of nonsense. Then at the end of the day, I break for food, thanking the Lord for giving me access to food before eating, then take the bus home to do more reading of whatever is on my reading list, do some lessons on duolingo, then turn in for the night.
I'm not expecting people to understand me any more. Heck, I'm not even expecting the people I call/called friends to understand me either---they are all on different legs of their lives, most of them have their own families to run, and the last thing I think they need is to have someone whining about how shitty that person's life is despite having a place to stay, a job, and skills that are apparently considered ``hard skills'' in this time and age. ``But MT, aren't you projecting yourself a little too much here? Maybe they are trying to reach out to you to give you the space you might need to bitch about things---have you stopped to consider that?'' Yeah, perhaps I have. Makes me so pathetic right, big grown-ass man with all these feelings that he cannot man-up and stuff it down a chute that he needs people to take pity on him and call him out for a hang out so that he doesn't wallow in his own shitty emotions.
If I knew what it was I wanted, it would have been easier. But for now, I just don't. And talking to people isn't something that I think I want to engage in just yet.
It'll be soooooooo much easier if I were dead. But alas, me being dead now does absolutely nothing to help with advancing the gospel, so it'll have to be on hold for now. It'll happen when it's supposed to happen, so I don't have to worry about advancing it.
------
In other news, the dead-tree version of Instead of Death by William Stringfellow has finally arrived by post. It was a book that was recommended by Brian---I think I might just start reading it. I was a little surprised to find that it was a thin number---I was expecting something like a 300+ page tome of sorts. I have no reason why I would think so, but it was something.
I have also created a new on-line tool that replicated the old Blogger behaviour. In the old behaviour, one could just type and embed some HTML tags as needed, without having to explicitly chuck in some paragraph-tags to delimit the paragraphs. I liked that system because it made the blog flow so much easier---it felt more like writing a blog entry as opposed to coding a blog entry. It was an option that could be enabled in the old Blogger. But thanks to the latest update that was forced upon us, I was stuck with either ``pure'' HTML mode where I had to tag every thing, or in ``pure'' composer mode where I was supposed to work like it was some word processor. There was none of the hybridised behaviour that I was looking for, and it annoyed me.
I write blog entries to get stuff out of my head as fast as possible. Had I wanted to code up an HTML page, I'd just do it in my personal domain.
Perhaps there's still an option like that hiding about---if there is, I haven't seen it. Hence that silly little tool.
Okay, I think I've said as much as I cared to this time. Till the next update, I suppose.
Thursday, September 17, 2020
Winding Things Up
Peace be upon you, me, and all of us in these strange times.
The winding up of a relationship is always fraught with many emotional upheavals. Those who have not undergone it do not understand---those who have will know what I mean. I am, of course, talking about serious relationships, the kind that was very likely to end up with the intention of starting a family kind.
There are moments where I would feel like I was completely at peace. Then there will be be moments where I feel the worst form of depression, whether triggered by something that I saw and therefore associated-thought to, or just an intrusive thought. I know it is normal to feel this way. I did spend five years with her, trying to make her a part of my life.
Now in retrospect, I was wondering if she ever did try to make me a part of hers. And my honest answer is... I don't think so.
Slowly. It takes time to get myself back into a position where I am sane again. I think part of why it hurts as bad as it does during the moments when it got bad was because of the external validation that during the times that I was with her, I was visibly happier.
So, did it mean that when I was no longer with her, I would be visibly less happy? I don't know the answer to that.
I recently had my first sharing session with my care group. There was a certain sense of warmth that I had missed. It was weird to be among a group of people where I was not the most learned nor the most experienced. It was actually exhilarating in a good way. Yes, the care group was mostly of married couples, but it didn't feel weird. We shared about the things that were deserving of praise for God, we also shared about the hardships that we were undergoing that needed prayers and support from each other. And when the consolidated list of prayer requests and thanksgiving came out, I was a little heartened to find that the sender helpfully put my jumbled descriptions of how I was feeling into the much more condensed line of ``suffered from bad relationship breakup recently'', and that my prayer request was that of ``pray for healing from this relationship, moving on''.
I was touched. So concise, and poignant. So, so, true.
I think it unearthed a deep feeling that I knew was there but haven't really had the will to really confront it. The relationship break-up was bad, and I didn't really acknowledge it much. Was it as bad as the time Ida dumped me? I think it is a matter of degree---the intensity of that break-up was high due to it being the second serious relationship. The intensity of this one was not as high at its peak, but it was something that took a long time to drag out. So I suppose the ``area-under-curve'' interpretation will say that this one is indeed worse than the other.
From a different perspective, this care group has basically extended my list of responsibilities to stave off the rationalising and acknowledgement of the suicide ideation. Because now I'm less of an island.
The irony is that I think I'm just going to hermit it up these days. I don't know why. Just feel like it's the right thing to do. Maybe I had overdone the ``reconnect with folks'' bit recently, causing a kind of burn out effect on myself. Or maybe I'm decompensating. Unless I start talking with a counsellor/therapist, there really isn't a good way to know.
I did have a random intrusive thought recently. It involved just quitting my job, and applying to be a security guard or even a janitor. Why? Who knows... I sure don't---they were intrusive thoughts after all. Most times I feel that all the studying (and side reading) I've done doesn't seem to justify what I am doing and/or my sense of worth---why this is the case, I honestly do not know.
Maybe I should go check in with a counsellor/therapist. Maybe.
Or maybe I should just go for a long scenic view cycle, just to literally 散散心. I've not done that in quite a while.
People ask where is God during this COVID-19. I say that God has always been here with us. This is the best time to really discover who we really are, and for us to learn how to live a life that is praiseworthy of God.
I think that's all for now. Till the next update.
The winding up of a relationship is always fraught with many emotional upheavals. Those who have not undergone it do not understand---those who have will know what I mean. I am, of course, talking about serious relationships, the kind that was very likely to end up with the intention of starting a family kind.
There are moments where I would feel like I was completely at peace. Then there will be be moments where I feel the worst form of depression, whether triggered by something that I saw and therefore associated-thought to, or just an intrusive thought. I know it is normal to feel this way. I did spend five years with her, trying to make her a part of my life.
Now in retrospect, I was wondering if she ever did try to make me a part of hers. And my honest answer is... I don't think so.
Slowly. It takes time to get myself back into a position where I am sane again. I think part of why it hurts as bad as it does during the moments when it got bad was because of the external validation that during the times that I was with her, I was visibly happier.
So, did it mean that when I was no longer with her, I would be visibly less happy? I don't know the answer to that.
I recently had my first sharing session with my care group. There was a certain sense of warmth that I had missed. It was weird to be among a group of people where I was not the most learned nor the most experienced. It was actually exhilarating in a good way. Yes, the care group was mostly of married couples, but it didn't feel weird. We shared about the things that were deserving of praise for God, we also shared about the hardships that we were undergoing that needed prayers and support from each other. And when the consolidated list of prayer requests and thanksgiving came out, I was a little heartened to find that the sender helpfully put my jumbled descriptions of how I was feeling into the much more condensed line of ``suffered from bad relationship breakup recently'', and that my prayer request was that of ``pray for healing from this relationship, moving on''.
I was touched. So concise, and poignant. So, so, true.
I think it unearthed a deep feeling that I knew was there but haven't really had the will to really confront it. The relationship break-up was bad, and I didn't really acknowledge it much. Was it as bad as the time Ida dumped me? I think it is a matter of degree---the intensity of that break-up was high due to it being the second serious relationship. The intensity of this one was not as high at its peak, but it was something that took a long time to drag out. So I suppose the ``area-under-curve'' interpretation will say that this one is indeed worse than the other.
From a different perspective, this care group has basically extended my list of responsibilities to stave off the rationalising and acknowledgement of the suicide ideation. Because now I'm less of an island.
The irony is that I think I'm just going to hermit it up these days. I don't know why. Just feel like it's the right thing to do. Maybe I had overdone the ``reconnect with folks'' bit recently, causing a kind of burn out effect on myself. Or maybe I'm decompensating. Unless I start talking with a counsellor/therapist, there really isn't a good way to know.
I did have a random intrusive thought recently. It involved just quitting my job, and applying to be a security guard or even a janitor. Why? Who knows... I sure don't---they were intrusive thoughts after all. Most times I feel that all the studying (and side reading) I've done doesn't seem to justify what I am doing and/or my sense of worth---why this is the case, I honestly do not know.
Maybe I should go check in with a counsellor/therapist. Maybe.
Or maybe I should just go for a long scenic view cycle, just to literally 散散心. I've not done that in quite a while.
People ask where is God during this COVID-19. I say that God has always been here with us. This is the best time to really discover who we really are, and for us to learn how to live a life that is praiseworthy of God.
I think that's all for now. Till the next update.
Sunday, September 13, 2020
Talking About Sax
I could write an entry of dealing with random intrusive thoughts, but I'm not going to. I think I already have enough entries on that for now. So for today, I'm just going to write about the recent pick up of my new tenor saxophone.
I finally picked up my ordered Wongful Tenor Saxophone from WindWorks Singapore.
The Wongful Tenor Saxophone is an amazingly fun instrument. I'm not as good a saxophonist as I am a concert flutist (which isn't as good as my dizi playing, which I still think isn't really good anyway). The sound is very even and mellow, responding really well with the Selmer S90 180 mouthpiece that I had. For a causal saxophone player like me, I could easily hit the lows and highs at low dynamics levels, and they were still in tune. Amazing---I would totally recommend this make of a saxophone to anyone who wants to play it. And mind you, the one that I have is not some professional version---it is their lowest grade instrument. In the hands of an excellent player, it is likely to sound even more magical. Windworks Singapore is the dealer for the Wongful brand in Singapore, and Mr Yap is amazingly knowledgeable on saxphones. I think that anyone who wants a good horn without breaking the bank should really talk with Mr Yap to try out Wongful.
I like the saxophone. The dizi is my most expressive instrument, but it is an instrument that I am most likely to be playing pieces that were written by others. The concert flute is my second most expressive instrument, and is really my primary compositional tool with respect to melodies because of the versatility (chromaticity) and range (3 octaves). The saxophone is a funny instrument for me. I think the role that it plays in my music making is still ill-defined for now---on the one hand it satisfies that inner ``rock-out'' feel that I want due to its timbre crossing between that of regular woodwind and brass, and on the other hand its range is much closer to that of the dizi than that of the concert flute (i.e. less than 3 octaves), making it a little less flexible as a compositional tool.
So I end up using the saxophone as a way of playing pop tunes more enjoyably than with the concert flute. I suppose it is also a side effect of observing that jazz music as played on the saxophone tends to be of that nature too.
Another interesting fact about the saxophone is that they are among the lowest wind instruments that I have. The soprano saxophone is akin to the alto flute (less the concert G3 note which, really, no one plays often), while the alto saxophone is closer to the bass flute (no concert C3, and therefore closer in style to dizi or Irish flute than flute). The tenor saxophone is thus like that of the contra-alto flute (no concert G2 note).
If I ever got a baritone saxophone, it would cover the range of the contrabass flute comfortably, especially if it has a low [instrument] A key. Which also means that it covers the cello range, and is definitely more powerful than the contrabass flute.
Hmmm...
But it won't be any time soon. I've run out of budget for any more new instruments in the near future. My income has basically been reduced to earlier than 2015 levels due to many reasons, and therefore I need to live back to the standard of living of that era, which unfortunately does not include having enough budget for extra instruments.
Well, I think that's about it for now. I've got some more reading to do before bed time today. Recreational reading, if one would believe the nonsense I spout.
Till the next update.
I finally picked up my ordered Wongful Tenor Saxophone from WindWorks Singapore.
The Wongful Tenor Saxophone is an amazingly fun instrument. I'm not as good a saxophonist as I am a concert flutist (which isn't as good as my dizi playing, which I still think isn't really good anyway). The sound is very even and mellow, responding really well with the Selmer S90 180 mouthpiece that I had. For a causal saxophone player like me, I could easily hit the lows and highs at low dynamics levels, and they were still in tune. Amazing---I would totally recommend this make of a saxophone to anyone who wants to play it. And mind you, the one that I have is not some professional version---it is their lowest grade instrument. In the hands of an excellent player, it is likely to sound even more magical. Windworks Singapore is the dealer for the Wongful brand in Singapore, and Mr Yap is amazingly knowledgeable on saxphones. I think that anyone who wants a good horn without breaking the bank should really talk with Mr Yap to try out Wongful.
I like the saxophone. The dizi is my most expressive instrument, but it is an instrument that I am most likely to be playing pieces that were written by others. The concert flute is my second most expressive instrument, and is really my primary compositional tool with respect to melodies because of the versatility (chromaticity) and range (3 octaves). The saxophone is a funny instrument for me. I think the role that it plays in my music making is still ill-defined for now---on the one hand it satisfies that inner ``rock-out'' feel that I want due to its timbre crossing between that of regular woodwind and brass, and on the other hand its range is much closer to that of the dizi than that of the concert flute (i.e. less than 3 octaves), making it a little less flexible as a compositional tool.
So I end up using the saxophone as a way of playing pop tunes more enjoyably than with the concert flute. I suppose it is also a side effect of observing that jazz music as played on the saxophone tends to be of that nature too.
Another interesting fact about the saxophone is that they are among the lowest wind instruments that I have. The soprano saxophone is akin to the alto flute (less the concert G3 note which, really, no one plays often), while the alto saxophone is closer to the bass flute (no concert C3, and therefore closer in style to dizi or Irish flute than flute). The tenor saxophone is thus like that of the contra-alto flute (no concert G2 note).
If I ever got a baritone saxophone, it would cover the range of the contrabass flute comfortably, especially if it has a low [instrument] A key. Which also means that it covers the cello range, and is definitely more powerful than the contrabass flute.
Hmmm...
But it won't be any time soon. I've run out of budget for any more new instruments in the near future. My income has basically been reduced to earlier than 2015 levels due to many reasons, and therefore I need to live back to the standard of living of that era, which unfortunately does not include having enough budget for extra instruments.
Well, I think that's about it for now. I've got some more reading to do before bed time today. Recreational reading, if one would believe the nonsense I spout.
Till the next update.
Monday, September 07, 2020
《羞答答的玫瑰静悄悄的开》
Another day another entry.
``Why?'' You may ask.
``Documenting intrusive thoughts,'' is my answer.
The last time I talked about intrusive thoughts, they involved suicide ideation. Thankfully, those have more or less gone away, to be replaced with something somewhat different.
It involves selling away or getting rid of all of my music instruments, basically more or less permanently quitting making music. I mean, the whole purpose of making music for me was to have some form of relaxation away from the world.
But the world has robbed me of that pleasure. Combine that with all the heavier and heavier politics I have to slowly start to deal with, making music feels more of a chore than fun.
It's a seductive intrusive thought, a very perverse one too, if I stop to give it more attention. There was also this other really extreme one---since I'm not getting married any time soon, and with each passing year going to seal my fate as a permanent bachelor, there really is no point keeping all the money that I have been saving to start a life with a significant other. Maybe I'll just do a meaningless spending of it on a platinum flute to play for a while before I off myself, or just donate it all away.
Yeah it's fucked up. You don't have to tell me that.
In case you were a sadist and thought that I would action on those intrusive thoughts, well too bad. I'm not too far gone yet to realise their nature and arrest them. I thank the Lord for the wisdom to see that.
But on a somewhat more sombre note, I really do feel like I want to isolate and hermit up. There really isn't anything to look forward to any more... I wasn't kidding when I said that if I were to be called home to the Lord now, I wouldn't mind. Only problem is that I still have an intern to supervise, so I'll at least hold on till after he is done with his internship---no point traumatising him unnecessarily. I had contemplated setting up a new web page (tentatively called ``death-clock'') that tracked when was the earliest I could off myself given my conditions. But it wasn't going to be a good idea anyway, since I had to wait till at least both my parents had passed, which honestly, isn't likely to happen in the next ten years.
So, I have to live till at least forty-five years old.
I honestly don't know what to make of that.
Anyway, I have a couple of social events to attend to this week, but after that, I think I'll just go hide away.
No one needs to deal with a basket case like me.
------
In other news, I finally found another earworm.
The title is 《羞答答的玫瑰静悄悄的开》, sung by 孟庭苇. Seriously, the phrases used were no where near common, no wonder it took me so long to actually find it. I only succeeded due to using midomi and have a somewhat decent pitch in singing, and having the luck to have the song indexed.
------
That's all for today. Hopefully I don't have more things to clear from my mind. It is really depressing.
``Why?'' You may ask.
``Documenting intrusive thoughts,'' is my answer.
The last time I talked about intrusive thoughts, they involved suicide ideation. Thankfully, those have more or less gone away, to be replaced with something somewhat different.
It involves selling away or getting rid of all of my music instruments, basically more or less permanently quitting making music. I mean, the whole purpose of making music for me was to have some form of relaxation away from the world.
But the world has robbed me of that pleasure. Combine that with all the heavier and heavier politics I have to slowly start to deal with, making music feels more of a chore than fun.
It's a seductive intrusive thought, a very perverse one too, if I stop to give it more attention. There was also this other really extreme one---since I'm not getting married any time soon, and with each passing year going to seal my fate as a permanent bachelor, there really is no point keeping all the money that I have been saving to start a life with a significant other. Maybe I'll just do a meaningless spending of it on a platinum flute to play for a while before I off myself, or just donate it all away.
Yeah it's fucked up. You don't have to tell me that.
In case you were a sadist and thought that I would action on those intrusive thoughts, well too bad. I'm not too far gone yet to realise their nature and arrest them. I thank the Lord for the wisdom to see that.
But on a somewhat more sombre note, I really do feel like I want to isolate and hermit up. There really isn't anything to look forward to any more... I wasn't kidding when I said that if I were to be called home to the Lord now, I wouldn't mind. Only problem is that I still have an intern to supervise, so I'll at least hold on till after he is done with his internship---no point traumatising him unnecessarily. I had contemplated setting up a new web page (tentatively called ``death-clock'') that tracked when was the earliest I could off myself given my conditions. But it wasn't going to be a good idea anyway, since I had to wait till at least both my parents had passed, which honestly, isn't likely to happen in the next ten years.
So, I have to live till at least forty-five years old.
I honestly don't know what to make of that.
Anyway, I have a couple of social events to attend to this week, but after that, I think I'll just go hide away.
No one needs to deal with a basket case like me.
------
In other news, I finally found another earworm.
The title is 《羞答答的玫瑰静悄悄的开》, sung by 孟庭苇. Seriously, the phrases used were no where near common, no wonder it took me so long to actually find it. I only succeeded due to using midomi and have a somewhat decent pitch in singing, and having the luck to have the song indexed.
------
That's all for today. Hopefully I don't have more things to clear from my mind. It is really depressing.
Sunday, September 06, 2020
I Feel
Well hello hello. Another piece of writing within ``a day''. Unexpected, ain't it?
I feel. That's something that I can say unequivocally now. I think I have much more empathy now than I have had a long time ago.
Or rather, I have relearnt how it is to have great empathy once again, having had that burnt out of me some twenty-two years ago when I was in a bad place.
But before I go all nostalgia, allow me to share the triggering event for this piece of writing. I finally got to meet up with some more church folk (while respecting the safe distancing rules!), and what some of them were experiencing hit me in ways that I would never have thought to be possible. I understood what she meant when she said that despite the advancedness of her cancer, she was ready to let the Lord lead the way. I understood that feeling of peace, a type of hopefulness in spite of the apparent hopelessness.
And I looked at my pissant nearly self-inflicted reactions to the most recently failed relationship, and I feel pathetic. I'm not in a life and death circumstance, despite how my heart feels---at least I know that tomorrow will not be snatched away from me as readily as in her case. Yet she wasn't going all ``woe be to me'' and being depressed about it---she trusted in the Lord to lead her along the way, and to carry her burdens. This is not to say that my feelings are invalid---it's just that it is important that I put things into perspective.
To be fair, I am and have been putting things into perspective. So yes, I do have some aspects of suicidal ideation, but they remain only as intrusive thoughts that will not be acted upon, because despite all the pangs of sadness that hit me, a deeper part of me knows that there is light ahead, that it is not the end, that it is merely an end.
It is rather hard to explain this, but if you are reading all the recent entries and feeling rather alarmed about it all, please don't be. I really am in a safe place, physically, mentally, and spiritually.
I found my rock, and will be fine. There's a time for everything, after all, and the Lord knows when it is the best time for certain things for me.
Like how today was the right day to be hearing her story and testimony, despite me having not known her before today, and really not contributing much to the conversation, and she being all apologetic about it all.
I see today as the start of a new set of relationships that I will be making with a group of people whom I am going to be living with for the rest of my life, and in many ways, I am looking forward to it. In many ways, my life has gone rather stagnant, and there are certain aspects of it that can be improved through this newer direction.
Okay, present-ness aside, time to tell a story about the Bad Old Days where I had my empathy burned the heck out of me.
When I was young (think younger than twelve years old), I used to be a much more empathetic person. Yes, I was still a nerd (you can't get rid of the nerdiness), but I was happy to help people, or in the Christian context, to serve. But when I reached my teens and was in secondary school, the change of environment was drastic. You see, I was from a neighbourhood primary school, where everyone was mostly just trying to do their thing---yes, we tried not to fail our examinations and what-not, but it wasn't a place that practised any form of elitism because there was simply no reason to. Secondary school was different, for one it was a ``prestigious school'' (no irony, it is really among the top ranked secondary schools of the day), and for two it was something akin to the ``aristocratic Chinese school''. I'm calling it ``aristocratic Chinese school'' only because the feeder schools to the place were largely elite primary schools (whatever that means), and those who ended up there had their established cliques as a result. And they were of the stereotypical conservative Chinese mentality---clannish to a fault, and never tolerating anything that isn't conforming.
For a neighbourhood primary school kid, who didn't buy into clannish behaviour, it was a culture shock. It didn't help that I had bad skin. But anyway, along the way, all these ``beat downs'' from the culture made it such that by the time I was done with secondary school, the last thing I wanted to be doing was to help people without any expectation of returns, i.e. out went the altruism that I had back in the day. One incident that stood out really strongly in my mind was one afternoon when I heard that a classmate didn't have enough money to take the bus, and I ran down a slope to pass him some that I had, but didn't stop in time, smashing my forearm against the metal railing, thus fracturing it. Said classmate didn't even thank me, and he didn't even cared that I fractured my arm.
I took the bus to the hospital on my own to have it looked at and placed in a cast.
I don't think I'm bitter now. It's just a story about the time when I started to learn about how the world works. It was just one story out of a slow increase of many, and it slowly became something that just gnawed at me for so long that I developed a new perspective---to be ``an equal opportunity hater of people in general'' because people, as a whole, are dicks.
To be fair, it is not that I didn't learn how to feel. I did learn how to feel---it can be seen through my steady improvement in how I interpreted music as I was playing on my 笛子---it's just that along the way, I learnt how to just repress the general empathetic feeling I had. Because it was something that people would take one to be a sucker for and just abuse the crap out of it.
The astute reader might be asking me now, why bring this up now?
Because one of the cutting reasons on why she chose to broke up with me was the apparent dissimilarity of values, as claimed by a third party, and as acknowledged by her as one of the reasons to let it all go. I could feel anger at the third party for causing a schism, unintentionally perhaps, I could also feel maligned that she didn't even try to see that I was finding some middle ground to work things out with her, but I'm not going to.
Because it isn't productive. I cannot change how they thought/think, and how they felt/feel. But I can change how I react to things, since I am in control of my own emotions.
At the risk of sounding vindictive, let them say and believe what they want. I just want to move on and not look back at the things that made me feel all sorts of bad. Everyone makes mistakes---it is not my place to judge them. God will sort it all out at the end, not me.
It's cathartic to just write these down here. Anyway, that's all for now.
Till the next update.
I feel. That's something that I can say unequivocally now. I think I have much more empathy now than I have had a long time ago.
Or rather, I have relearnt how it is to have great empathy once again, having had that burnt out of me some twenty-two years ago when I was in a bad place.
But before I go all nostalgia, allow me to share the triggering event for this piece of writing. I finally got to meet up with some more church folk (while respecting the safe distancing rules!), and what some of them were experiencing hit me in ways that I would never have thought to be possible. I understood what she meant when she said that despite the advancedness of her cancer, she was ready to let the Lord lead the way. I understood that feeling of peace, a type of hopefulness in spite of the apparent hopelessness.
And I looked at my pissant nearly self-inflicted reactions to the most recently failed relationship, and I feel pathetic. I'm not in a life and death circumstance, despite how my heart feels---at least I know that tomorrow will not be snatched away from me as readily as in her case. Yet she wasn't going all ``woe be to me'' and being depressed about it---she trusted in the Lord to lead her along the way, and to carry her burdens. This is not to say that my feelings are invalid---it's just that it is important that I put things into perspective.
To be fair, I am and have been putting things into perspective. So yes, I do have some aspects of suicidal ideation, but they remain only as intrusive thoughts that will not be acted upon, because despite all the pangs of sadness that hit me, a deeper part of me knows that there is light ahead, that it is not the end, that it is merely an end.
It is rather hard to explain this, but if you are reading all the recent entries and feeling rather alarmed about it all, please don't be. I really am in a safe place, physically, mentally, and spiritually.
I found my rock, and will be fine. There's a time for everything, after all, and the Lord knows when it is the best time for certain things for me.
Like how today was the right day to be hearing her story and testimony, despite me having not known her before today, and really not contributing much to the conversation, and she being all apologetic about it all.
I see today as the start of a new set of relationships that I will be making with a group of people whom I am going to be living with for the rest of my life, and in many ways, I am looking forward to it. In many ways, my life has gone rather stagnant, and there are certain aspects of it that can be improved through this newer direction.
Okay, present-ness aside, time to tell a story about the Bad Old Days where I had my empathy burned the heck out of me.
When I was young (think younger than twelve years old), I used to be a much more empathetic person. Yes, I was still a nerd (you can't get rid of the nerdiness), but I was happy to help people, or in the Christian context, to serve. But when I reached my teens and was in secondary school, the change of environment was drastic. You see, I was from a neighbourhood primary school, where everyone was mostly just trying to do their thing---yes, we tried not to fail our examinations and what-not, but it wasn't a place that practised any form of elitism because there was simply no reason to. Secondary school was different, for one it was a ``prestigious school'' (no irony, it is really among the top ranked secondary schools of the day), and for two it was something akin to the ``aristocratic Chinese school''. I'm calling it ``aristocratic Chinese school'' only because the feeder schools to the place were largely elite primary schools (whatever that means), and those who ended up there had their established cliques as a result. And they were of the stereotypical conservative Chinese mentality---clannish to a fault, and never tolerating anything that isn't conforming.
For a neighbourhood primary school kid, who didn't buy into clannish behaviour, it was a culture shock. It didn't help that I had bad skin. But anyway, along the way, all these ``beat downs'' from the culture made it such that by the time I was done with secondary school, the last thing I wanted to be doing was to help people without any expectation of returns, i.e. out went the altruism that I had back in the day. One incident that stood out really strongly in my mind was one afternoon when I heard that a classmate didn't have enough money to take the bus, and I ran down a slope to pass him some that I had, but didn't stop in time, smashing my forearm against the metal railing, thus fracturing it. Said classmate didn't even thank me, and he didn't even cared that I fractured my arm.
I took the bus to the hospital on my own to have it looked at and placed in a cast.
I don't think I'm bitter now. It's just a story about the time when I started to learn about how the world works. It was just one story out of a slow increase of many, and it slowly became something that just gnawed at me for so long that I developed a new perspective---to be ``an equal opportunity hater of people in general'' because people, as a whole, are dicks.
To be fair, it is not that I didn't learn how to feel. I did learn how to feel---it can be seen through my steady improvement in how I interpreted music as I was playing on my 笛子---it's just that along the way, I learnt how to just repress the general empathetic feeling I had. Because it was something that people would take one to be a sucker for and just abuse the crap out of it.
The astute reader might be asking me now, why bring this up now?
Because one of the cutting reasons on why she chose to broke up with me was the apparent dissimilarity of values, as claimed by a third party, and as acknowledged by her as one of the reasons to let it all go. I could feel anger at the third party for causing a schism, unintentionally perhaps, I could also feel maligned that she didn't even try to see that I was finding some middle ground to work things out with her, but I'm not going to.
Because it isn't productive. I cannot change how they thought/think, and how they felt/feel. But I can change how I react to things, since I am in control of my own emotions.
At the risk of sounding vindictive, let them say and believe what they want. I just want to move on and not look back at the things that made me feel all sorts of bad. Everyone makes mistakes---it is not my place to judge them. God will sort it all out at the end, not me.
It's cathartic to just write these down here. Anyway, that's all for now.
Till the next update.
Saturday, September 05, 2020
And Then the ``New Blogger'' Made It Worse
Welcome once again to stupid o'clock, the traditional time in which I end up ranting for a solid while in that half-awake and half-asleep state of mind that is best described as ``ill-present''.
The last time I wrote something here, I talked about suicide ideation. As expected, after writing it all out here, I've not had an intrusive thought about it since then.
But to be fair, that was roughly two days ago. It's funny---I could've sworn it was longer ago then ``just'' two days.
In other news, I've added a bit more work to my read list. The first big thing that I did was to put in each of the three completed SCP Foundation tomes that I have read into the read list instead of waiting for the entire 2017-02-01 dump is completed. The two big reasons are that each of these tomes have around 500 articles, and it takes forever to go through them, so I will roughly have to wait for nearly twelve years before I can move the whole SCP Foundation project reading materials to the read list.
The other little bit of thing that I've enhanced was to keep track of how many items I have read, and estimating the average number of items that I have read from the cut-off where ``more meticulous records'' were kept. It's funny; I knew that I read a lot, but after this script was added to the page, I realised just how much was equivalent to ``a lot''. As at this point of writing, the script estimated around 725 items read per year by me. That number feels about right---reading roughly 2 items a day does feel like the right amount of effort that I have been doing.
------
Asking God questions is an interesting process. I don't think I've cultivated the level of astuteness to converse with Him directly (I think He tells me things through the coincidences of things that happen to me), but from what I heard, He seems fond of answering one of three possible answers: ``yes'', ``no'', and ``wait''. Of the three, the first two have closure and are easy to work with---it is ``wait'' that is tough.
Like now. My shattered sense of self is just sitting there on the ground in their miserable fragments. I asked God what's to happen to me, and the reply I got was basically ``wait''. And so, I wait, though as I said, this is the most uncertain and therefore the one that is most likely have the largest increase of suffering.
Okay, I can feel the forces of wakefulness being overwhelmed by the combined might of going past stupid o'clock and the anti-histamine chlorpheniramine.
All I wanted to do was to assure whoever is still reading this that yes, I had some suicide ideation, and no, I am not going to take any steps to fulfil the said ideation. I think it is better to just wait for now, and be in awe of God, and fear Him to glorify His might.
Okay, good night then.
Thursday, September 03, 2020
On Suicide Ideation
At the risk of triggering reflex actions, I will first begin by saying that I am still safe and am still in a safe place.
Now, with that said, let me talk about suicide ideation.
I have been having random thoughts about that for the past few months. I think that they are intrusive---I did not begin the day thinking to myself ``ah, what if I would die today by my own hand''---they just appear in my mind just like that. And to be fair, it isn't even the kind of ``I wish I were dead'' types of thoughts---they get really specific.
For instance, death by [drop] hanging either over the accessible parts of the Nicoll Highway or out in the middle of the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve levels of specific. Hanging because of a broken neck is the fastest way to go, and that there are nicely prepared tables to ensure a clean break in the neck, which is many times better than the really awful way of asphyxiation.
Heck, I don't even have to go shopping for a rope---just re-use the toggle rope that I have lying around already. And if somehow I survive the attempt, the ensuing fall will finish the job. Or you know, just ensure that the height and the rope length are long enough to ensure decapitation, a 100% guaranteed death.
But they are just thoughts. It's not even a case of ``mostly just thoughts''---they are just thoughts. It's not that I have something to live for---I honestly don't at this point seeing that my life has basically been brought to a standstill in almost all aspects---but that it feels a little too weak-willed to just end it like that.
If I'm going to die prematurely and by my own hand, it will at least be after both my parents have passed on. And when that day comes, I will also need to check if I have anything still that I am responsible for.
Or if I lose agency of my self, as in, I reach the point where I cannot mentally even identify myself as myself any more---that's the day to die prematurely.
Consider this a pre-emptive advance directive unless otherwise superseded in future documents.
At this point, I'm just annoyed that these thoughts are creeping up on me like that. I suppose my work on this earth isn't quite done yet, otherwise the Lord would not have let me have the wisdom to realise that the thoughts were intrusive, to arrest them before they got out of hand, and put them out here so that the acknowledgement of their presence provides me with a better frame of reference to strongly refute the temptations that they bring.
The problem remains: what am I on this earth for? I don't know if I am ready enough to face the consequences of the answer to that question, and that is why I have not asked the Lord for one in prayer just yet.
These days, I just vacillate between random pangs of sadness and general numbness. My brain is usually in a fog, but when the situation arises, it does get back into its razor sharpness. Studying God's word helps to bring myself towards a different understanding, but at the same time, I am slowly finding my ego slipping away, as though I am slowly becoming a husk of some sort.
I want to scream and shout, but I don't know why. Some friends have offered to lend a listening ear, but I don't know what to say to them. Some times I just want to repeatedly slam my head into a hard surface, but I don't have the heart to break something through such silly actions on my part. I feel like I may need to take a break, but when I do, I end up being listless and just whiling the time away doing nearly nothing. Some days I'm super lucid, understanding many things with a clarity that I cannot begin to describe, but most days I'm just letting the time flow on by, almost literally just waiting to be called home to be with the Lord.
I write all these here with only a vague sense of why---whether I live or die, I suppose it is useful to at least try to pen down all these nonsense that is going through my head. Even if it doesn't benefit me, hopefully someone out there who stumbles upon this will learn that they are not alone. All I can say is, I'm sorry I don't have any solutions---all I have are just the complaints about how things just suck.
Before I turn in for the day, just observe that this entry came on in less than three days. And yes, things aren't going so well back in MT's head.
Before anyone gets all panicky, I want to reassure you, the reader, that I am still safe and am still in a safe place.
I seriously owe future-me a chance to live up to what he is supposed to be doing, and to do that, present-me needs to steward this body, brain, and soul well, and not die prematurely. I just hope that future-me knows what he needs to do, because present-me has no fucking clue.
Future-me, when you look back at present-me, please think back about the dark times, and how I tried to keep it together for you to shine. Remember me, okay?
Now, with that said, let me talk about suicide ideation.
I have been having random thoughts about that for the past few months. I think that they are intrusive---I did not begin the day thinking to myself ``ah, what if I would die today by my own hand''---they just appear in my mind just like that. And to be fair, it isn't even the kind of ``I wish I were dead'' types of thoughts---they get really specific.
For instance, death by [drop] hanging either over the accessible parts of the Nicoll Highway or out in the middle of the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve levels of specific. Hanging because of a broken neck is the fastest way to go, and that there are nicely prepared tables to ensure a clean break in the neck, which is many times better than the really awful way of asphyxiation.
Heck, I don't even have to go shopping for a rope---just re-use the toggle rope that I have lying around already. And if somehow I survive the attempt, the ensuing fall will finish the job. Or you know, just ensure that the height and the rope length are long enough to ensure decapitation, a 100% guaranteed death.
But they are just thoughts. It's not even a case of ``mostly just thoughts''---they are just thoughts. It's not that I have something to live for---I honestly don't at this point seeing that my life has basically been brought to a standstill in almost all aspects---but that it feels a little too weak-willed to just end it like that.
If I'm going to die prematurely and by my own hand, it will at least be after both my parents have passed on. And when that day comes, I will also need to check if I have anything still that I am responsible for.
Or if I lose agency of my self, as in, I reach the point where I cannot mentally even identify myself as myself any more---that's the day to die prematurely.
Consider this a pre-emptive advance directive unless otherwise superseded in future documents.
At this point, I'm just annoyed that these thoughts are creeping up on me like that. I suppose my work on this earth isn't quite done yet, otherwise the Lord would not have let me have the wisdom to realise that the thoughts were intrusive, to arrest them before they got out of hand, and put them out here so that the acknowledgement of their presence provides me with a better frame of reference to strongly refute the temptations that they bring.
The problem remains: what am I on this earth for? I don't know if I am ready enough to face the consequences of the answer to that question, and that is why I have not asked the Lord for one in prayer just yet.
These days, I just vacillate between random pangs of sadness and general numbness. My brain is usually in a fog, but when the situation arises, it does get back into its razor sharpness. Studying God's word helps to bring myself towards a different understanding, but at the same time, I am slowly finding my ego slipping away, as though I am slowly becoming a husk of some sort.
I want to scream and shout, but I don't know why. Some friends have offered to lend a listening ear, but I don't know what to say to them. Some times I just want to repeatedly slam my head into a hard surface, but I don't have the heart to break something through such silly actions on my part. I feel like I may need to take a break, but when I do, I end up being listless and just whiling the time away doing nearly nothing. Some days I'm super lucid, understanding many things with a clarity that I cannot begin to describe, but most days I'm just letting the time flow on by, almost literally just waiting to be called home to be with the Lord.
I write all these here with only a vague sense of why---whether I live or die, I suppose it is useful to at least try to pen down all these nonsense that is going through my head. Even if it doesn't benefit me, hopefully someone out there who stumbles upon this will learn that they are not alone. All I can say is, I'm sorry I don't have any solutions---all I have are just the complaints about how things just suck.
Before I turn in for the day, just observe that this entry came on in less than three days. And yes, things aren't going so well back in MT's head.
Before anyone gets all panicky, I want to reassure you, the reader, that I am still safe and am still in a safe place.
I seriously owe future-me a chance to live up to what he is supposed to be doing, and to do that, present-me needs to steward this body, brain, and soul well, and not die prematurely. I just hope that future-me knows what he needs to do, because present-me has no fucking clue.
Future-me, when you look back at present-me, please think back about the dark times, and how I tried to keep it together for you to shine. Remember me, okay?
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