How Wanting Makes Us Want More

You know how sometimes you feel like you have a million and one things you want to do, so many things you want to learn and experience and do and write about, but you just don't have the time or freedom or capacity to? Is it just a millenial thing? Does this only plague twenty-somethings from First World countries?

Right now, there seems to be so much else I can and should be doing, things I should be pursuing that, for some reason or other, I'm not. And as a result, I'm stuck where I am.

This post isn't supposed to be all doom and gloom though. It's not a bad problem to have - who's complaining about having too much inspiration for stories, right? I should be happy the ideas are flowing copiously, and I can experience enough to know what I want to pursue / devote myself to.

But wanting makes us impatient and desperate and miserable. Wanting makes us want even more. It makes us realise how much we should be doing but aren't. How much we could have but don't because we're not doing what we should be doing. All the opportunities and experiences we're missing out on because of what we don't have.

Wanting makes us even greedier, hungrier. Not for money, but for the life we have always dreamed for ourselves.

Right now, I'm writing this as I:
- work on the first draft of Before I Remember You (YA magical realism),
- story-board - and essentially rewrite - Blood Promise (yep, I'm going back to this YA fantasy manuscript I wrote three years ago, purely because I still see the - ahem - promise in it and believe I can get it published ... okay, the very kind and positive feedback from literary agents helped too)
- write a short story for Before I Remember You (sort of a prequel that serves as groundwork for me when I write the novel)
- plan out Land of Sand and Song (YA fantasy), and
- send out query letters to agents for No Room in Neverland (YA contemporary)

That's not including my day job and other pursuits like reading, practicising my musical instrument, blogging, attending writers conferences, spending quality time with friends and family, etc.

(Who has time for a boyfriend? My single ladies and I were talking about this the other day - how everyone seems to think we're inadequate in some way because we're still single in our mid-twenties. Maybe there are other things worthy of our time and energy that we CAN control and actively pursue, other things that make us equally happy, if not more so, because right now we're still just finding and building ourselves into the people we want to become. My philosophy has always been: if it happens, it happens. Not shutting the door on this, just leaving it open while I focus on the work I need to do in order to achieve my dreams. Okay, single girl rant over.)

If only humans didn't need seven to nine hours of sleep daily. Think of how much more we could all do if only we had the full 24 hours!

A day away from the day job is hardly enough, but it's all I can afford now if I don't want the work to pile up.

A writing friend of mine shared an essay by Steven Pressfield recently, about how writers typically have a shadow career, which is basically a substitute for their true calling, your actual job. A shadow career is the B story in your life that feeds into the A story, which is to a writer is writing.

I guess what I'm trying to say after all this rambling is that wanting has made me more focused but also tired, purpose-driven but also ravenous. No one said this would be easy, and I don't expect it to be easy. Anything worth having should be too easily attained, after all. But what if all this wanting only sets you up for endless disappointment?

Do you think it's better not to want and expect so much in life so we can spare ourselves the torment of not having, or do you think we should hold on to our dreams and emerge battered but stronger after the entire experience? How do you know when you need to let something go? I've always believed that if you want something badly enough, you should do everything you can to acquire it. But what if what you want was never meant for you and your stubbornness is what's keeping your happiness (and sanity) at bay?

Wow, okay that turned mopey. I'm not whining, I promise. I appreciate the struggle ... sometimes. I just want to know if I'm alone in worrying about all this and hear your take on this, dear readers!

Special thanks to readers and lurkers who have left encouraging comments - be it via social media or this blog or a private email - as I forge my way through this writing journey! Your words have gotten me through the darkest moments of self-doubt, uncertainty, and defeat. I am immensely grateful to each and every one of you who took the time and effort to reach out with a kind message of support and love.

XO

Confessions of an INFJ

This is kind of random, but I've been talking to a few INFJs lately (we make up just 1 percent of the population), and it's been so nice to find people who get you, get your weirdness, and are coasting right on your wavelength.

Some common things INFJs hear are:

"You hardly ever go out!"

"Man, you're boring."

"Why don't you ever want to do anything?"

"Are these the few friends you have?"

And really, it's not like that.

It's not that we hate company; we just need time to be alone every day. It's how we recharge.

It's not that we don't want to spend time with you; we just don't need to be with you all the time. Some space and distance isn't a bad thing. 

It's not that we hate going out; we just need a purpose for doing that. I've found myself aimlessly wandering the streets just because I went out for the sake of going out. But it felt completely meaningless and unstimulating. I've got more things to do at home - blog, read, write, scroll through Tumblr...

It's not that our social circle is small; it's just that want to focus more on every person in our lives. We regard personal relationships very seriously, so we want to know that the people around us are worth spending time and energy and effort on if we're going to invest so much emotion in them.

It's not that we don't want to open up to you; it's just hard for us to lay ourselves bare to someone who might decide not to care and/or walk out of your life the next minute, or after they realise what a neurotic bag of weirdness we are.

Sometimes, I wish I didn't feel so much, and am able to get over the hurt after listening to a song or something.

Sometimes, I wish I didn't over analyse things to death, or wear myself thin worrying about every little thing.

Sometimes, I wish I were an ENFP, so maybe things would be easier. I would find it easier to fit in, move on faster from things that bum me out, and internalise my emotions less.

But thank goodness for other INFJs. ENFPs may be super fun to hang out with, but I think at the end of the day it's the INFJs who really get you.

Fellow INFJs, do you feel lonely in a crowded world?

kicking off august with a bang

Been crazy busy at work last week with the setting up of our magazine community, so here's a quick update of what August has been like so far:

 Saw the derp lord, who was in town promoting his new movie:

Dove headlong into a book sale:

Met up with old friends:

 Got into the mood for the nation's 50th anniversary:

Then joined 200,000 people around the bay area to watch the National Day Parade:

The weather was breezy and cool - perfect for a parade.

The grounds were hella muddy where we were, but who cared really?

A nation built with love becomes a home. Happy 50th, Singapore. Thank you for everything you have given us. #sg50 #happybirthdaysingapore #recordturnout #broughtmetotears

A photo posted by Joyce Chua (@jcxw2590) on Aug 9, 2015 at 5:53am PDT

  

The Black Knights - or, as my friend Melissa put it, the lead guitarists of the Singapore Armed Forces.

The crowd was definitely left gaping in awe.

What's a parade without some fireworks to top it off?

It was one of those you-had-to-be-there kind of moments. Having so many people around you singing along to the National Day songs you learned (way back) in school, the camaraderie and feeling of togetherness was so palpable I couldn't help but tear up. I had already gotten emotional at this video tribute to the late Mr Lee Kuan Yew earlier on:


But when everyone sang along to the NDP classic, Home, in unison the floodgates broke loose. I sang with tears streaming down my face, and found that I wasn't the only one. This girl my age next to me was in the same state. It's funny how emotional you become, standing in the midst of such an outpouring of love and pride and gratitude for a country.



 How has YOUR August been so far? :0)

10 Notable Articles about Lee Kuan Yew and Singapore

It's been a week since Singapore learned that its founding father had passed away at the age of 91. This was my first experience with loss.

And while there were tears, outpouring of love and respect, and back-to-back documentaries of the man who built this nation, there were also many eloquent articles that surfaced all over the Web as Singaporeans begin to emerge from their shell of apathy to reexamine what it means to be Singaporean and reassess their view of their first Prime Minister.

Here are 10 notable articles that struck a chord with me:

1. Calvin Cheng's defence of the Singaporean model of governance

2. Bertha Henson's candid account of her encounters with Mr Lee

3. Lili Tan's pensive musing on death and how it unites the living

4. Deborah Tan's heartfelt letter to Mr Lee that made me cry

5. Steph Leong's well-researched article on Mr Lee and his policies

6. Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong's interview with Today newspaper, in which he shared insights on the man we all thought we knew

7. Jaime Ee's reflections on the surge of patriotic fervour that has arisen these past few days in the wake of Mr Lee's passing

8. A taxi driver's informal tribute to Mr Lee, as recounted by Tiffany Joyce Lim

9. Sahana Singh's comparison of the Western ideal of personal freedom versus the Asian notion of community before self, and argues how much better off we are for sacrificing some personal freedom for the greater good.

10. A reflection on the past week of mourning that perfectly encapsulates all the reasons for our profound sorrow at Mr Lee's passing.


And here were some of the ways we immortalised him,

At the Istana:

On the way to pay our last respects to him:

photo by Chen Zhirong

At community centres all over the country:

At the National Library:

And the ways the outside world honoured him,

In Time magazine:

In the words of foreign dignitaries,

And their physical presence:

Former U.S. president Bill Clinton

The Bhutan king

Former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger

Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe

Sultan of Brunei

And finally, this video that shows just how larger than life, yet human, Mr Lee Kuan Yew was (please get your tissues ready):

Yesterday, we sent Mr Lee off on his final journey. 

Throngs of people gathered around the Parliament House and lined the funeral procession route to send Mr Lee off. Even the clouds hung low that day, and the downpour marked the climactic end to a great legacy. People wept for him, as did the skies.

I will never forget the day I waved my flag in the pouring rain and caught my first and only glimpse of Mr Lee, the day I broke down in public with my fellow Singaporeans as I whispered a word of thanks that I hoped he could hear.

At 4:35PM, we bowed our heads for a minute of silence, saying our final goodbye to the man who changed all our lives for the better.

Words can't express how much gratitude, respect, and love I have for this man who was iron-willed enough to do what needed to be done to bring a tumultuous fledgling nation to its current state; who was never complacent and always sought ways to improve; who took no bullshit from detractors and opponents, but was always kind and protective of us, the citizens; who was so devoted to his country so much he made it his lifelong project and saw it through till his final days.

So we've lost him at last. Indomitable as he seemed, he was, after all, human, and no man - no matter how noble or gifted - can live forever. But perhaps we should also be thankful for the fact that we had lived in a time when a great, fearless leader by the name of Lee Kuan Yew was around to pave the way for us to venture another step forward.

Rest now, Mr Lee. We will continue writing the Singapore story for you. You will live forever in the hearts of your people, and be dearly missed.

Remembering Mr Lee Kuan Yew

I woke up yesterday morning to the news of Mr Lee Kuan Yew's death. My first thought was, what now? What is to become of the country that he built from scratch without his guidance, leadership, intellect, and foresight? Will we have the tenacity, loyalty, and enough love for the country to go on and ensure his life's work does not go to waste?

As I went about my morning, everything became magnified. Every privilege and luxury that I - and many of us - have come to take for granted: clean streets and running water and skyscrapers and an elaborate transport system and a cushy office job to go to.

As the founding father of Singapore, Mr Lee devoted his life to the country and was always fearless in his ways, his opinions, his policies, and took shrewdly calculated risks (remember the casino debacle?) that paid off in the end. He did whatever he could to put us in the global arena and had a profound love and sense of responsibility to the country and its people.

Whatever your grouse with him might be, however you may resent him for his iron-fisted autocratic ways, you can't deny that he was whip-smart and had the foresight and steeliness that was required to pull Singapore out of a backwater slum to the teeming metropolitan city that it is today.

He did whatever he could to the best of his abilities, broke boundaries, and was, a hero of his time. Whatever faults you may deem him to possess, he did what was needed, risking resentment from the people with his harsh policies for the good of the country, the bigger picture that the common man was yet unable to see.

Yes, times are a-changing and what the people expect of their servant leaders are different. I don't deny that Mr Lee's rule probably won't sit well with many people of my generation, the post-war generation that has never experienced the hardships of war or the early days of independence, when we had basically nothing and no support from anyone.

But as he said, he did what he deemed best for Singapore in the sociopolitical environment of his time, and he raised our annual per capita income from $500 to $55,000 in the 50 years he was involved in the governance of Singapore, no mean feat given that Singapore was just a tiny island with hardly any natural resources at the mercy of our neighbours.

I don't claim to have in-depth knowledge of Singapore politics; nor am I able to articulate as well as others who have written beautiful, moving tributes to the late Mr Lee. Up till now, this post is a mess of sentimentality and emotion. But I'd just like to express my immense gratitude to the grandfather who, while sometimes stern and assertive in his opinions and beliefs, always had our best interests at heart.

I want to promise him that Singapore will be fine, that we will have the grace and courage to move forward as a united civilisation that looks far beyond our own petty, selfish needs and do what is best for our country. But I dare not. For his tenacity, vision, drive, and deep sense of responsibility and love for his people and country are unparalleled.

There is none like him, and there will never be. Love him or loathe him, he had poured his life and soul into his country. He makes us proud to be Singaporeans, for all its triumphs and failings. He was a giant amongst men, a hero who fought hard for his people and his convictions, and simply a man who loved his family and his country, a visionary whose ideas weren't always accepted by the people during his rule, and one of the greats of modern history.

Singapore was incredibly lucky to have him as her leader, and I really, really hope that we can sustain his legacy and continue to make Singapore a country that we can be proud of.

Be at peace, Mr Lee. While we mourn your passing, we also celebrate your achievements, and are forever indebted to you for all that we now possess.

Open Letter to A Depressed Friend

Dear Blue,


You've been pretty down lately. Actually, down might be an understatement. You're depressed. Clinically so. And I don't know how to help.

It started after you took up this job. You started out with intense concentration and a drive to perform well. You asked questions, turned to others for help. But then the demands of the job got to you, and liaising with clients proved to be more stressful than you expected. You got emotional when they got emotional; you took it personally, feeling each client's exasperation more keenly than you needed to.

It didn't help that your superior took it upon herself to micromanage and required a daily update of your work, and issued you copious documents and Excel sheets to fill out to keep track of every transaction made and deal closed. And despite your best efforts, despite the extra hours you worked, things were still scattered all over the place.

Soon, everything started weighing down on you from every end, and things were slipping through your fingers like water no matter how hard you grasped and clenched your fists. Meanwhile, your superior continued to monitor your behaviour at work, running a tight leash and hawk-eyeing your activities on your computer and even cellphone.

"She's a tyrant," we all declared, shaking with indignation on your behalf. "You don't have to let her bully you like this."

"But it's my fault," you would say, staring morosely into space. "I'm not meeting targets."

I used to call it a Capricorn trait. Capricorns are a broody bunch, and they tend to blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, whether or not they are at fault. "You're such a typical Capricorn. Cheer up! Things will be okay."

Sometimes, I wanted to tell you to snap out of it. And I might even have on one occasion when your pessimism got to be too much for me. "Get mad, don't get sad," I said. Sorrow and self-pity were useless emotions that put nothing in motion, only drive you deeper into the mud. Anger helped; anger catapulted you out of the mud, for better or for worse. But it isn't like you to get mad; anger isn't your default emotion.

Besides, I realised that depression isn't something you can just "snap out of". It consumes you whole and takes over your life, like a giant winged beast that blots out the light in the sky, a beast whose cries you can't block out. A Fellbeast.

Too often, it's easy to discount someone else's emotions unless we experience them ourselves. We tend to attribute a person's depressed state to his or her mental tenacity, and believe that once you force yourself to rise above it you'll be fine. But depression isn't just a state of being; it's a condition that requires hours of therapy, antidepressants, and a listening ear.

So that's what you did. You went for therapy sessions and took medication, and things did get better. You laughed more, and engaged in more social activities again. But still there are times when work eats away at you so you can't even taste your food or focus on everyday tasks. All we can do as your friends is hold up your spirits, padding you with constant reassurances, remind you of everything else that's good in your life, and actively seek for alternatives to improve your situation.

Reality is not always kind, and so you sometimes have to fill that role all on your own.

You have to allow yourself compassion and forgiveness. Shame is not useful. Feeling lazy or weak or as a failure won't fix anything for you. Beating yourself up isn't a very good way to become who you want to be.

~ Chuck Wendig


Dear Blue, you taught me to have more patience for someone who requires constant encouragement to keep afloat. You made me experience "sympathy depression", and in turn understand what it's like to be cloaked in the iron blanket of hopelessness and unrelenting self-doubt and criticism.

So I hope that while you develop a rhino heart and a bullet-proof armour against the slings and arrows of life, the sticks and stones that others may launch at you, you will also be far kinder to yourself than you are. You are more capable than you believe, funnier than you think, and stronger than you realise.

Whatever you choose to do from now on, know that we will always have your back and be here to offer a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, or supply you with as many images of derpy hot guys and cute fuzzy animals as you need to feel better again.


Love,
Joyce