26

When I was in primary school, the English teachers would have us dedicate one exercise book as our journal. Some weeks, they would assign journal writing as our homework. The topic could be something they set, or it could be free writing and we could write about anything we wanted.

I loved it when English homework was journal writing. To me, it was so much more fun than worksheets. I would eagerly fill up pages and pages of the exercise book with each journal entry, to the point where I sometimes needed to start another volume in a new exercise book after running out of space in the first one.

Of course, for primary school kids, the journal topics would be fairly simple, like "What I did over the weekend." But I would captivate my teachers' attention even with such a mundane subject, and they always wrote very positive comments on the pages of my exercise books, which made me really happy.

So I guess writing has always been a thing in my life. Then I went and made it my profession, which in some sense was a good decision because why not make money out of something I'm good at and enjoy doing... But in other ways it kind of killed the joy in it.

My job as an internal communications professional does involve some writing, but not as much as, say, being a journalist. Comms involves so much more planning and project management than they tell you in school, and the fun content creation bits are quite rare. So my writing skills are getting a little rusty. And the type of content we generate most of the time, to put it bluntly, is propaganda. It's not fun to create and it's not fun to consume. I question my purpose in life when I don't get a positive reaction from my readers. I want my writing to entertain, to amuse, to provoke thought. Otherwise I have wasted my time.

So to try to build a bulwark against this creeping issue before it becomes a bigger problem and I totally lose my writing mojo, like so many other communications professionals do when they stay too long in the field, I decided to take some time out this week, during one of my rare weeks away from work, to update this blog with some (hopefully) good content.

To hark back to my primary school journaling days, the topic will be really simple: What I did during my week off.

Enjoy!

23 October 2023: Mandai Bird Paradise

I always take a one-week vacation from work around the 21st of October, which is my birthday. For my 26th birthday this year, I decided to check out the Mandai Bird Paradise for the first time. I no longer do birthday dinners and those kinds of things that normal people do on their birthdays, since I no longer take food orally. I'm all about non-culinary experiences now. Last year I stayed two nights in the Marina Bay Sands hotel to celebrate my 25th!

This year, my actual birthday was on a Saturday, so I waited for the Monday to go to the Bird Paradise so that I wouldn't have to contend with the weekend crowd.

The park was still pretty crowded though, especially with people from India. There were not many other Singaporeans there aside from a school excursion group from Pathlight and a gaggle of senior citizens from some social welfare organisation.

In terms of layout, Bird Paradise consists of a series of ten zones which you can pass through linearly, making a loop around the perimeter of the attraction as you go. With the exception of the first two zones, Winged Sanctuary and Penguin Cove, all zones are giant aviaries: essentially they are like little clumps of standalone forests where the birds are all flying around freely, with a huge net covering the entire place so that the birds are contained inside...

... And predators are kept outside, as I discovered at the Crimson Wetlands zone. This zone is, in my opinion, the most beautiful because it is spacious and open, being less forested than the other aviaries. The birds there, like flamingos and macaws, are also bigger and much easier to see. The trouble with some of the other aviaries is that they are very well-vegetated and the birds are pretty small and flighty, so it's rather hit-or-miss if you get to see anything unless you're really patient and willing to stand there searching for a long time.

While I was at the Crimson Wetlands, there was suddenly a huge commotion as nearly the whole population of birds in the aviary, except for the biggest ones like the flamingos, started shrieking at the top of their lungs and flying rapidly in circles like a whirlwind! It was an amazing sight to behold as hundreds of birds swooped above me, twittering furiously. As I looked up at them, I spotted the reason for their mass hysteria. High above the aviary, inscribing lazy circles through the clouds, was a pair of hawks. They were probably a mating pair from the nearby Seletar reservoir hunting for food. Obviously, in the wild, some of the small birds in the Bird Paradise would be fair game for birds of prey like hawks, so it's understandable that they would panic when hawks show up in the neighbourhood. Their bird brains can't comprehend the concept that the nets keep the hawks out, after all.

Speaking of bird brains, there was a psycho bird at the Winged Sanctuary. The Winged Sanctuary is not an aviary but a series of big mesh cages housing rare birds. One of the hornbills there was behaving strangely: it kept honking loudly and rhythmically and banging its head against the metal door at the back of the cage. I think it needs an intervention.

That hornbill was, unfortunately, not the only sick bird I spotted at the park. One of the penguins at the Penguin Cove looked ill too. Its protective coat was discoloured and seemed to have eroded away. The poor little thing was shivering and it refused to swim with its friends.

I spent a long time at the Penguin Cove, visiting at the start as well as the end of my journey around the park. Its convenient location near the entrance makes it possible to do this. It is clearly the most popular zone and is always packed. This is because penguins are the superior race in all of birdkind. The air-conditioning is a big plus too.

The design of the Penguin Cove could do with a few tweaks though. Currently, there are two levels where you can observe the penguins from. The Beach level has a big glass window which looks onto the land portion of the penguins' habitat. This is the more important part of the habitat because many of the penguins are lazy and spend the whole time just standing around doing nothing. So to see them, you need to be on this level. The Underwater level, as the name suggests, shows the underwater view of the habitat. I was lucky enough to catch the penguins' morning feeding time, so I got to see the penguins diving deep to retrieve the dead capelins that the keepers dumped into the water. But otherwise, generally you don't see any penguins from this level.

For some strange reason, they decided to put a buffet restaurant on the Underwater level, with the unique proposition that you can dine while enjoying the view of penguins swimming. This clearly doesn't happen in real life because the penguins seldom go down there, so you're in effect dining while enjoying the view of empty water columns. I would get rid of this bootleg Ocean Restaurant because it is a waste of budget and space. I would relocate the merchandise shop and café from where they now are on the Beach level to the Underwater level, because the Underwater level is an entry and exit point to the building and it makes sense to catch people there and ask them to spend money. In the space freed up on the Beach level, I would build a dais, similar to the one at the manatee tank at the River Wonders. People will be able to mount the dais via ramps at the side to get an elevated view of the penguins standing on the land. This is useful because the habitat is quite big and the parts at the back are difficult for children and people in a seated position to see from the floor. Having a raised platform would afford a much better view.

Mandai Bird Paradise: A good experience

Sick birds and interior design inadequacies notwithstanding, I would recommend visiting the Bird Paradise at least once. It's a good experience overall, with each aviary separated from the next by an enclosed and air-conditioned rest area so you can seek shelter if the elements get too overwhelming. There are abundant food and beverage options at both the entrance as well as the midpoint of the park where the Crimson Wetlands is. I distinctly remember a very strong chicken rice garlic chilli smell from the food court just after it. And I enjoyed my favourite ice lemon tea from the Han's Union just outside the park. If you patronise the A&W next door, see if the menu board still contains the typo I spotted: they meant to write "irresistible" but it came out as "irrestible" instead.

The free-ranging birds make for some interesting encounters too, as the more inquisitive ones may even land on you and try to steal your stuff. Here's a bird pecking at my mother.

I'm not generally a fan of birds but I enjoyed my time at the Mandai Bird Paradise. But at $42 a ticket, I feel that the cost is quite a deterrent to repeat visits for all but avid bird enthusiasts. I will, however, willingly go back if I could pay half price for a ticket that only allows entry to the Penguin Cove.

The power of penguin cuteness will compel you to spend money. Resistance is futile.

See that pillow on my chest? It's a magic pillow. Turn it inside-out and it transforms into...

A soft toy!

24 October 2023: Dinner at Putien Raffles City with friends

I don't do a lot of social stuff. Hanging out with friends is not a simple task for me, as it involves logistics to get me to and from the hangout venue safely, and a lot of planning and coordinating of schedules with my caregivers, who are my parents. There's also not a lot of realistic options in terms of hangout activities: for instance, the typical young person would go clubbing with their friends, but that wouldn't turn out well if I tried it.

There's also a very big energy cost I have to pay when going out with friends. As an introvert, and someone who doesn't socialise much, there is a mental cost of course, but this is compounded by the physical effort required to be outside the safe environs of my home, where the furniture is comfortable and the surroundings are peaceful and quiet.

But I'm still a human being, and I need social contact to stay psychologically well. So when I have some time off from work, I make an effort to arrange meetups with friends. That way, I have enough energy to spare as I saved some by not working, and I have days free after the meetup to restore my energy.

I caught up with my friends JC and BL on Tuesday night at the Putien restaurant in Raffles City. My parents wanted to go to the Clove restaurant at the hotel next door to use up some vouchers they had, and my friends were coming from work in the city centre, so it worked out well.

JC is a friend I made at work four years ago, and in the company I work at, that's nearly a lifetime. As BL always says, JC and I have been around for very long. We've lost many friends to other companies along the way, so I'm really happy that she's still around, and similarly, she keeps teasingly warning me not to resign. When I was an intern in human resources, she was my guardian. Now, even though I'm a battle-tested regular staff in my own right, I still find comfort in the stability she brings, even though I've since established myself in the communications department and don't overlap much with her in terms of responsibilities.

BL is a new friend who joined JC's department just over a year ago. We crossed paths because my internal communications role puts me in close contact with various parts of human resources, as I help them to announce their policies and initiatives to the employees. She has since made her next career move, but we promised to keep up our friendship.

Many career advisors on Tiktok say things like "Never trust HR" and things like that, but my list of friends that I made at work is dominated by HR colleagues. My view is that you have to look at your HR colleagues with very open and honest eyes, and not be prejudiced against them just because of stereotypes or a perception that they are there to protect the company by hurting you. There are some really good ones like BL and JC who make it their mission to find win-win solutions, and they work really hard at it. And at the end of the day, HR colleagues are flesh-and-blood employees like the rest of us, trying to survive and make an honest living. I am proud of my HR friends!

Time

The get-together with JC and BL also made me reflect on the passage of time, and how we use it. BL may only have been with the company for just over a year, but she and JC grew so close that they now go on overseas holidays together. They also share a very cute dynamic, as exemplified by the following conversation at the restaurant while ordering a vegetable dish.

BL: *speaks to waitress in Mandarin*
JC: What vegetable did she say that is?
BL: Oh, this is a green vegetable.
JC: No shit bro, most vegetables are green.

Or this one where they were telling me about their recent trip to Vietnam when it flooded.

BL: *pointing at JC* She made us walk in mud!
JC: It wasn't mud, it was just rain water.
BL: Just water? You drink and show me lah!

BL also didn't have a lot of joint projects with me, but our brief interactions over the course of the year added up and made us become friends instead of just coworkers. When she resigned, a lot of people across the company, besides myself, were very sad.

Thinking about her impact, I realised that one year is a long time, but it is also a short time. We can use it for so much good, but we can also do the opposite. Broadly speaking, I can categorise new coworkers into three groups. In their first year, they can:

1. Leave a deep and positive impact on their colleagues, and have many good relationships within and beyond their department;
2. Leave a deep and negative impact on their colleagues, sowing a trail of confusion, dissatisfaction, and unhappiness in their wake; or
3. Make people wonder what they were doing during the year, because they didn't seem to have made any impact at all.

BL, needless to say, is in the first category. I can only hope I have more colleagues like that in the future.

RuneScape and the hole in my stomach

"Technically challenging but uneventful."

Those were the words Nurse Lydia typed in a text message to my dad as I lay shivering under a pile of heated blankets in the recovery room in the bowels of Tan Tock Seng Hospital on 10 June 2020.

I had just undergone a successful medical procedure known as a percutaneous radiologically guided gastrostomy (PRG).

The PRG tube where it exits my abdomen.

It's a very fancy label for a very simple idea.

My radiologist Dr Sundeep looked at a live x-ray video feed of my abdomen. A tube was passed through my nostril, down my throat, and into my stomach (the technical term for this is nasogastric tube), and air was pumped into my stomach through the tube. This inflated my stomach like a balloon, so that it pushed away the surrounding organs such as the liver and colon, giving the radiologist a clearer field in which to operate.

The inflated stomach also came close to the abdominal wall. All the radiologist had to do was insert some sutures to tie the stomach lining to the abdominal wall to minimise the distance between them, then poke a hole from the outside of my abdomen to the inside, right through my stomach lining. He then threaded a feeding tube through the hole.

The feeding tube is kept in place by a tiny balloon inside my stomach, which is bigger than the size of the hole in my abdomen and therefore prevents the tube from falling out of me.

Why the procedure was technically challenging was because of my anatomy. My body is much smaller than that of a normal 22-year-old, but my organs are full-sized and have to cram into a much tinier space than they should. This had caused my liver to lie in front of my stomach during a pre-op computerised tomography scan, completely obstructing the approach from the front of my abdomen and making the radiologist unsure of the feasibility of the procedure.

If my liver didn't give way to my stomach, the radiologist would've been unable to reach my stomach to insert the feeding tube into it. They would've had to abort the procedure and done an open surgery instead, which would have involved heavy use of general anaesthesia and incurred lots of attendant risks to my safety.

The hope was that, when gas was pumped into my stomach, it would be able to push the liver away and expose itself clearly. There was a scary moment during the procedure when it looked like this wasn't going to happen. The medical team first pumped a tank of compressed carbon dioxide into my stomach through the nasogastric tube, but it didn't respond. My liver lay happily in the way still.

Then the medical team switched to "good old air", as the anaesthesiologist Dr Chan quipped, by connecting the external end of the nasogastric tube to a manual resuscitator (basically a rubber bag filled with atmospheric air) and getting someone to squeeze the resuscitator by hand. Poof! My stomach blew up nicely and my liver slid obligingly to the side, accompanied by running commentary from a relieved Dr Sundeep whose eyes were glued to the monitor showing the live stream from the x-ray machine.

Once this happened, the medical team went into action.

"Push 100mg of glucagon, STAT!" Dr Chan shouted. Disclaimer: I don't think he ordered 100mg. I made up that part because I can't remember exactly what he said, but 100mg looks quite impressive. Also disclaimer: I don't think he shouted, but in my favourite medical drama The Resident, the doctors are always shouting with great urgency and it's very exciting to watch, so I chose to describe Dr Chan as shouting to dramatise my account of the proceedings. In the same vein, I added "STAT" to the end of his dialogue to spice it up a bit. The doctors on television say "STAT" at the end of every sentence and it sounds so badass.

I felt the slight burn of medicine entering the intravenous plug in my right hand and before I knew it, my hearing had gone wonky. It was like I was listening to the medical team's chatter through a long, metal pipe. My eyes started to grow heavy and I struggled to remain conscious.

I observed with a detached sense of fascination a bedside monitor displaying my vital signs. "Damn," I thought. "My heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation are all really good and holding steady. Am I a tough little mo-fo or what!"

Someone said: "Ok Jonathan, I'm going to inject some local anaesthetic into your tummy area now. It's going to sting and burn. Ready? 1, 2, 3, ouch!"

I was so distracted wondering about the wisdom of a doctor saying "Ouch!" when injecting a patient that I hardly noticed the sting and burn. I mean, it did sting and burn, but it wasn't too bad.

At some point, Dr Chan shouted something about morphine and a bunch of other chemical names, and I started losing the battle to hold on to consciousness. "I'm feeling very drowsy," I complained to Nurse Lydia who was standing within my field of view (I was immobilised by a veritable forest of restraining straps so I couldn't see much). Earlier, she had told me that she would be there throughout the procedure, watching over me and making sure I was okay. She told me to just close my eyes. I did so with relief, and promptly went under.

That's not to say I was totally out of it. I soon heard someone saying my name, and I came back to full alertness almost instantly. "We're putting in the stitches now," said a voice. I groggily acknowledged, then fell asleep again.

My respiration must have suffered at some point because I suddenly felt a hand clamp my ventilator mask over my face, somewhat inaccurately because the mask missed most of my nose and spewed air everywhere. I'm very proud to report that I had the wherewithal to instruct the owner of the hand to "move the mask down" because "my right nostril is not covered". I heard someone say thanks before I drifted off again, feeling much more comfortable with the respiratory support.

The next time I woke up was when I heard my name being called again. "It's done," said Dr Chan. I was transferred from the procedure table to a hospital bed, and wheeled a great distance. "You're a good patient. Very compliant and didn't struggle," said Dr Chan along the way. I didn't respond but I was quite pleased to hear this compliment.

Finally, I rolled into the recovery room. I passed many other post-op patients. All of them were ancient, like my parents' age. I felt a little weird at this observation.

All things considered, I wasn't feeling too bad. I was sleepy but mentally alert. The morphine and chemical cocktail Dr Chan had concocted for me had reduced my pain level to 0. The only thing was, I was freezing. My jaw chattered and I shivered a bit. Nurse Lydia was very observant. She noticed and promptly had me swathed in thermal blankets. Then she sent the text message to update my dad on the successful procedure.

Hospital

Many people fear staying in hospital, but I'm a veteran of hospital stays so I don't mind having to be warded. Hospital stays can result in some quite interesting and funny occurrences.

Take for example my admission. I checked into the hospital on 9 June 2020, the day before the procedure, so that the doctors could ensure I was fit.

One of the tests they wanted to run was an arterial blood gas measurement, which involves taking blood from the artery in your wrist that causes your pulse. The junior doctor that came to do the extraction managed to hit my artery on the very first try, which was great because it minimised the painful poking and prodding I needed to endure.

But he was kinda clumsy, and high-pressure blood sprayed out of me and spurted everywhere: into the collection vial, all over my hand, his hands, my hospital gown, my bedsheet, and the floor. I felt like a pig in a slaughterhouse, or a bad guy in a John Wick movie.

Within an hour of checking in to the hospital, my pristine new bedsheet had become stained with my crimson life-juice.

At least the doctor was apologetic about the mess he made.

After the successful PRG procedure, I stayed in the hospital for two more days to recuperate, and was discharged on 12 June 2020.

I may not mind being warded, but I'll always have problems sleeping in hospitals. The nights I had to spend in the ward were pretty miserable. There was a poor old man in the bed across from me who looked very ill, and in the dead of night, the nurses would draw the curtains around him and spend hours doing goodness-knows-what to him. His bloodcurdling screams would echo round the building, and amazingly, he had the stamina to keep this up constantly until the nurses left him alone. The night after my procedure was the only night I could tune him out and get a good sleep, thanks to the able assistance of Dr Chan's drugs.

Another patient, who looked like 猪八戒 from the Chinese legend 西游记, was the opposite of noisy. He was admitted in some sort of catatonic state. He slept and slept and slept. One morning, the nurses wanted to wake him up to clean him and give him his breakfast.

They called his name. No response.

They patted him lightly. Nothing.

They rubbed his left nipple vigorously, sending shockwaves undulating across the fats on his torso. Still no luck.

Eventually, some woman standing by his bedside in civilian attire, who seemed to be a girlfriend of some sort, managed to get him to sit up and eat the hospital-provided meal. He still looked quite dazed. His eyes were glassy and he didn't answer when anyone spoke to him.

But as he ate, he underwent a miraculous transformation. His eyes focused, and he was able to answer the nurses. Out of a plastic bag, the presumptive girlfriend produced, of all things, a braised pork trotter. The man, every trace of catatonia now extinguished from his demeanour, tore into the trotter voraciously.

He was never the same after that. He was still there when I was discharged, but he looked much healthier than he had been when he came in. He was fully alert, responsive, and was always either playing with his phone or talking to the presumptive girlfriend.

Truly a medical miracle!

My daily life

What's the practical effect of the PRG feeding tube?

Well, to put it simply, it has allowed me to leave behind the mortal burden known as eating. Yes, I no longer am bound by the need to have meals to stay alive.

You see, the muscles in my face and throat were getting weaker and weaker by the day. This meant that eating was becoming a dangerous pursuit, as I was under a constant threat of choking or inhaling food and drink and causing a lung infection. I was also taking an inordinate amount of time to finish my meals. My dinners stretched to about 2 hours every day. Such time expenditure wasn't very sustainable, and I was very upset to imagine what better things I could've been doing during that time.

Now, instead of slaving over solid food, I subsist on a milk diet: 800ml of Ensure Plus each day. I take 400ml in the mornings and 400ml in the evenings. The milk formula is poured straight through the tube into my stomach.

This amount of milk formula was calculated by the dietician to be adequate for my daily nutritional needs. The beauty is that the formula is manufactured with the intention that it should be able to function as someone's sole source of nutrients, so it's perfectly balanced and contains literally everything necessary for my body to survive healthily.

So I don't even have to eat anything. Of course, I won't totally stop putting stuff in my mouth, 'cuz that would be just pathetic. After coming home from the hospital, I've still been drinking a Pepsi a day, and that won't change until the day I die. The great thing about the tube is that it's made of plastic, which means it doesn't react with anything and I can eat and drink whatever I want without worrying about whether it will affect the tube. I've eaten chicken rice chilli with no problems.

One part of my body that has benefited immensely from the new diet is my bowels. Funnily enough, even though my diet is now almost completely milk-based and liquid, my faeces has become the best quality that it has been for years! It's hard, dry, and big. Really big. And consistent. I go every day, and every day it's the same.

My first love: RuneScape

Nowadays, my "meals" go as follows.

First, my caregiver uses a syringe to suck stuff out of the tube and stomach. Sometimes, there will be some residual curds from the previous load of milk. There might also be gastric fluids or other leftover detritus from whatever I ate or drank in the preceding few hours. This step is important because if a lot of stuff is left behind in the stomach and I try to take in the next load of formula, I could get bloated or regurgitate.

Next, my caregiver pours the 400ml of formula into the tube via the syringe. Finally, 50ml of water is poured into the tube to flush it.

The entire process takes about half an hour. This means I suddenly have so much more free time.

On 4 June 2020, I posted on my social media channels my intention to obtain Level 99 in Fishing in RuneScape and put on the Fishing skillcape while recovering in hospital using the RuneScape Mobile app. To prepare for that plan, I bought and redeemed a bond, which is an in-game item bought using virtual currency which gave me 14 days of access to the full version of the game known as membership.

My social media post on 4 June 2020:

RuneScape has been a pillar of my life since I was in primary school. I have dedicated hours every holiday season to improving my character. But I was always free-to-play. I never became a member because I never had enough money of my own. Besides, I was a good student who never had the time to play during the school terms, so buying a subscription would have been a waste.

This changed today. I bought a bond for 19m in-game coins a couple of days ago after receiving news that next week, I am scheduled to undergo a simple yet elegant medical procedure which, if successful, would dramatically improve my quality of life. It would be a momentous occasion. Being a sentimental soul, I wanted to have a similarly remarkable milestone to match in my parallel, virtual life on RuneScape.

Despite my account being more than a decade old, I have not reached the maximum level in any of the skills in the game. As I said, I usually play infrequently so I never had enough game time to train my skills fully. So I planned my remarkable in-game milestone to be: attaining the maximum level of 99 in my favourite skill, fishing, then buying and wearing the special members-only cape that this achievement unlocks.

Today, I laid the groundwork for this plan by redeeming the bond, becoming a member for the first time ever. This membership lasts for 14 days. With access to more powerful training methods at the Fishing Guild's Deep Sea Fishing Hub (pictured), I quickly increased my fishing level to 98. I will continue to accumulate experience points over the next few days until I am just short of the threshold to cross to level 99.

And if the doctors manage to pull off the life-changing procedure next week, I will fire up RuneScape Mobile while recovering in my hospital bed, cross the threshold, then acquire and put on that sweet, sweet fishing skill cape.

The next day, I updated the plan to merely buying and wearing the skillcape in hospital because I'd already obtained Level 99.

My social media post on 5 June 2020:

I never thought I would live to see this glorious day.

Yesterday, I posted about wanting to achieve level 99 in fishing in RuneScape while recovering from my medical procedure scheduled for next week. But I ended up achieving it today instead because of a sudden burst of experience points that was awarded to my character by the game for finding and handing in some "strange rocks" to the museum. No actual catching of fish involved! Pictured here is the server-wide broadcast announcing my milestone to everyone who was online then.

I still plan on having a special moment in the hospital, just that now it will be me buying and putting on the fishing skill cape immediately rather than having to finish getting level 99 first. The 99k coins I will need to pay the guildmaster for the outfit are already in my coin pouch.

So it is a double celebration: today, 5 June 2020, I got my first level 99 ever in RuneScape; if all goes well, virtual me will don the fishing skill mastery cape for the first time ever on the afternoon of 10 June 2020, after real me has undergone the procedure.

As it turns out, I couldn't log into RuneScape Mobile while in hospital because there was a very uncomfortable intravenous plug embedded in my hand which made tapping my phone screen quite unwieldy.

So I bought and put on the skillcape on 13 June 2020 instead, when I was back home from the hospital.

The cape which certifies that I have achieved mastery in the Fishing skill!

The skillcape comes with its own unique cosmetic animation, called an emote.

I then used the remainder of my 14-day membership to immerse myself in the real RuneScape, which I had never before experienced in all my decade-plus as a free player.

Walking through the servers reserved for paying members, I shed tears of joy at seeing actual fellow players running by. It took me back to the heyday of RuneScape, in the 2000s, when the servers were almost always brimming with players. I flashed back to the previous time I played RuneScape after being discharged from hospital. It was 2008 and I had just recovered from having a titanium rod fused to my spine to correct my severe scoliosis. I was so happy to be able to play again after a marathon two-week-plus hospitalisation that I literally peed myself because I didn't want to leave the computer.

The servers for the free players of RuneScape these days tend to be sparsely populated, which makes me sad. It might seem weird that there are so many more paid subscribers than free users, but data from the developer of RuneScape shows that more than 90% of players are members. This is due to the niche nature of the RuneScape community. It's not a game that appeals to a mass audience. The gameplay mechanics are repetitive and grindy and the pace is largely sedate. Those of us who've stuck around through the years have more or less become loyalists and staunch supporters, which means we're more likely to want to buy the proper gameplay experience.

The free version of RuneScape is more like a trial, but no one wants to try RuneScape nowadays. It's boring and doesn't give instant gratification, so modern consumers (you know, those with the attention span of a housefly) shun it for the flashy colours of Roblox or the heart-thumping excitement of Fortnite.

Anyway, have a look at this 8-minute-long video to take a break from all this reading.


Did you make it through the whole clip? You didn't, right? You housefly, you.

I think this video encapsulates two points very nicely.

1. This is what I mean when I say RuneScape isn't for everyone. Notice how I was running up and down the same stretch of forest repeatedly? Doing the same action over and over is a typical way of training skills in RuneScape.
2. But it also hints at why I love the game. Being disabled in real life, I literally can't do almost everything, not even basic things like jumping or cooking or catching animals. RuneScape allows me to do all these things and more. In this clip I'm practically doing jungle parkour! I can also cook, hunt, farm, and fish! Normal people play video games as a form of escapism where they kill enemies or monsters, because obviously you're not allowed to go around murdering stuff in real life. I'm just happy to be able to do mundane stuff that you probably take for granted, like climbing over fences and shovelling animal poop (yup, that's an activity in RuneScape).

Over the past few days, I've discovered that my nights have become rather long. Previously, I would struggle over my dinner until around 10pm, then be too exhausted to do much else. But now, I take my evening dose of formula at 6pm, then have the entire night free to do whatever I like.

It's an amazing feeling. It's like I've been liberated, a phoenix rising from the ashes of my past life. The PRG tube has given me my life back. The past couple of nights, I watched one-and-a-half-hour-long RuneScape videos on YouTube about the history of tutorials in the game. A senior content developer of RuneScape critically examined the design of the various iterations of the RuneScape tutorial through the years and from his analysis, I learned about concepts in user experience design like cognitive load and A/B testing, after which I was inspired to read up further about the topic and found this very insightful and timely article. So geeky, right? But such things do interest me, just that I never had the time to explore them before.

And having played RuneScape every night since coming home, I was loath to give it all up just because my 14-day bond had expired. I reasoned that now that I don't have to waste time on meals, I will have more time to work on my various personal and school projects during the day, and therefore more free time to play during the night.

So I checked out the pricing of the membership packages. It's S$13.99 per month, but there's a discount for buying more than a month at a go. A yearlong package costs S$128.99, which works out to S$10.75 a month. (In fact, membership gives me full access to RuneScape's retro counterpart Old School RuneScape as well. I have a character in that other version of the game under the same master account that I sometimes play to take a break from the main RuneScape. So I'm actually getting quite good value here!)

I checked my earnings for last month: I made well over S$500. I bought a one-year membership subscription so I don't have to worry about losing membership status for the next 12 months. I'm always buying nice things for others. It's high time I bought something nice for myself. And unlike food, which turns into poop immediately the next day only to get flushed into the sewers forever, this subscription guarantees me a year of fun anytime I want.

The user interface design of the process of buying stuff is really smooth. Looks like all that A/B testing was worth the effort.

I convinced myself that this purchase makes sense, and cross-checked my thinking with a trusted friend who concurred after doing some quick calculations (you know who you are *winks*).

Besides, what better way is there to celebrate coming through a "technically challenging" medical procedure unscathed and with a new lease of life?

Food Review: 704 五炒 Bedok Reservoir Hokkien Mee

Tech-savvy hawkers are increasingly using Facebook to reach out to customers. It's certainly very effective in attracting my attention! I tend to be more susceptible to online promotions than I should...

Recently, I've started getting posts from 704 五炒 Bedok Reservoir in my news feed. Based on some previous photos and videos on the page, the fried goods stall, which sells Hokkien mee, char kway teow, oyster omelette, carrot cake, and taugeh cockles, seems to be run by a young man. I like this, because we need a new generation of hawkers to grow if our hawker culture is going to be sustained. So I was keen to support the stall by giving it a try.

Of course, I was also excited by the overwhelmingly positive reviews I saw on the page, as well as the tantalising pictures posted by the hawker multiple times a day showing behind-the-scenes glimpses at the preparation process of his pork lard and prawn stock, both of which he makes from scratch, visually appealing raw ingredients like fat, juicy oysters, as well as the finished products.

Early this week, the hawker posted about a special item he was offering: oyster Hokkien mee. This dish is totally right up my alley. I love oysters, which is why I love oyster omelette. But I also love Hokkien mee, especially the wetter version with lots of sauce. And I reckon a serving of Hokkien mee makes for a fuller meal than a serving of oyster omelette, because it's got more ingredients and a better mix of carbohydrates, proteins, and fats.

So oyster Hokkien mee sounded like the perfect deal to me, having the delicacy that I like as well as balanced nutrition. Truly the best of both worlds!

Like many hawkers in this Covid-19 era, this stall has its own delivery service. Third-party delivery platforms charge high commissions that price many hawkers out of that market, so if you want hawker fare you have to shop around and discover standalone options like this yourself.

To enquire, I sent a WhatsApp message to the number provided on the Facebook page. Within half an hour, someone from the stall replied with the menu and confirmed that yes, they could deliver dinner to my area that evening.

Ordering was as simple as typing into a WhatsApp message my address, what time I wanted the food to arrive, and the list of items I was buying. The stall then replied with the amount to pay and a PayNow number. After transferring the required sum and sending a screenshot of the transaction confirmation, I received word that my order was successfully placed.

The food actually appeared about 15 minutes later than I requested, but to me this is an acceptable margin because the delivery service isn't run by one of the big companies so it should be held to a more lenient standard. Nonetheless, the stall is quite responsive and when I WhatsApped to ask about my order when it hadn't arrived at the specified time, the person on the other end promptly apologised and explained that there was only one driver on duty that day. I enjoy having this open and direct communication channel with the stallholder.

Most important to me, of course, is the quality of the food. And I am pleased to report that my oyster Hokkien mee ($6.50) was absolutely delicious.

My photography skills really cannot make it. Trust me, it tastes better than it looks.

As I mentioned earlier, I prefer the wet style of Hokkien mee, which emphasises the flavour of the prawn broth that soaks into the noodles rather than the dry style that focuses more on wok hei. So I was very happy to see my heap of yellow noodles and chor bee hoon sitting in a pool of gravy.

That gravy tasted strongly of crustaceans and was delightfully savoury. It was thick, luscious, and coated everything throughout the dish. Normally, I fuss about picking out all the taugeh and chives in my Hokkien mee, but I didn't this time because the gravy had made them the same taste and texture as the noodles that I had no reason to complain about them. Score another win for this stall's rendition of Hokkien mee, then: it got me to eat my vegetables.

No less than five oysters were hidden amongst the noodles. They were plump, creamy, briny, and a little metallic, exactly what good oysters should be. Importantly, they had no foul odours, which meant they were fresh.

There were also two medium prawns. I could tell that they, too, were fresh because they were crunchy and smelled clean. Other ingredients included some squid pieces and chunks of beaten egg.

The dish was rounded out by the generous amount of fried pork lard cubes scattered around, bringing the flavours exploding in my mouth to even greater heights. I like hawkers who know what they're selling and commit wholeheartedly to giving their customers the full experience. Nowadays, too many fried noodle sellers do away with pork lard to cater to the health-conscious. Hello, the health-conscious can jolly well go and eat their atas salad, ok? Leave the original recipes for fried dishes alone for those of us who still know how to appreciate them, please. Kudos to this hawker for doing so.

In fact, kudos to this hawker for the overall quality of his cooking! My oyster Hokkien mee was so yummy that I finished the entire portion with little difficulty. There's a perception that Hokkien mee has to be fried by a grizzled veteran if it's to be nice, and to be fair this tends to be anecdotally true, but this young man proves that it is also possible for those with less experience to produce a mean plate of noodles, as long as they put in the heart and are passionate about what they are doing.

Very reassuring indeed for the future of the hawker trade. Let's support these deserving local businesses!

My order
1 x oyster hokkien mee = $6.50
1 x medium black and white carrot cake = $7
1 x large char kway teow = $5.50
Delivery fee = $8
The delivery fee looks steep, but you can order more items or bigger servings to make it worthwhile. If you live outside the east zone, the delivery fee is higher.

TL;DR: Keep an eye on this dark horse. Although it is a relatively unknown newcomer for now, I daresay it will soon be a rising star in the Hokkien mee scene. You should definitely give this a shot!

Boys and their toys

Feminists look away now! Stereotypes incoming!

There are a few truths in this world that are self-evident. For one, women like makeup and hairdos. And men like gizmos and gadgets.

Being male, I am no exception. I do love cool stuff.

So when Mr Dennis Viau, an American YouTube influencer I follow (and previously wrote about here and here), bought himself a new Vitamix heavy-duty blender and started using it in his videos, I was captivated by its amazing Bluetooth app smart control feature.

SmoothieTube

His new channel SmoothieTube teaches viewers how to make smoothies, which are supposedly healthy yet delicious drinks. If he were Singaporean he could go tie up with the Health Promotion Board and take a lot of money from the government but sadly the sleepy backwater of Santa Barbara, Southern California has no such government body. No offence to people with links to that place! A couple of my professors were from the University of California, Santa Barbara and they are lovely.

Anyway, I found his new blender endlessly intriguing as it comes with the capability to pair with an Android tablet through Bluetooth. An app called Perfect Blend, when installed on the tablet, can give users step-by-step instructions on how to assemble various recipes. This is done using a special weighing scale which detects the amount of a certain ingredient the user has added and triggers the tablet to make a sound when there is enough of the ingredient in the container. Once all the ingredients are in, the user transfers the container onto the blender which then blends the smoothie together, automatically adjusting the duration and speed of the blending without any input from the user at all.

This video shows the process in action.

If that is not the height of awesomeness then what is?

Dead spot be gone

The master bedroom in my house had long suffered from poor WiFi coverage as the radio waves were unable to make the sharp 90-degree turn from their origin in the living room router.

As a result, everybody's phones would lose the signal once they passed the doorway of the bedroom. For my parents, it was a minor inconvenience that they could simply solve by leaving the room. But I like to relax on that bed and play a bit of Old School RuneScape Mobile before sleeping. So the situation was unacceptable and I decided to do something about it.

Enter Lazada. My mother is very experienced in using that online shopping platform, having bought innumerable useless ornamental items off the site. I, on the other hand, was an online-shopping virgin. I did not, and still do not, have any means of e-payment to my name whatsoever, because I am a child.

But I work around this obstacle by using my mother's PayPal and Lazada accounts to make purchases, after which I reimburse her with good, old cash. The government wants to go cashless, and I want to spit on their face. Give me hard money that I can see and touch any day, rather than some digits on a screen that, for all intents and purposes, do not even exist in the real world.

So to get rid of the pesky problem of the WiFi dead spot once and for all, I went onto Lazada during the 11/11 sale and got a TP-LINK RE650/AC2600 WiFi Range Extender at about 25% discount. Including delivery, it cost just under $110.

The RE650 is one of the more expensive TP-LINK extenders but it is rated for up to 2600Mbps, which means that it can relay the full speed of your WiFi signals if your incoming internet connection speed is within 2600Mbps. Given that the standard fibre broadband speed in Singapore is 1Gbps and some choose to pay extra for the 2Gbps connection, the RE650 can smoothly handle all these connections without bottlenecking. If you get a cheaper model, it may not be able to relay the WiFi signals fast enough and you will lose some of the speed that you are paying your internet service provider for.

Setting up my new extender was easy. All I had to do was follow the instructions in the manual. Once I had it up and running, the master bedroom was bathed in the rich glow of glorious WiFi, and all was right with the world.

Now me and my parents can use our phones while relaxing in bed, with a strong and stable internet connection!

Roaming robots

A decade ago, it was almost unheard of to have autonomous cybernetic beings roaming freely amongst humans. The robots that shuttle file cabinets and meal trolleys around the KK Women's and Children's Hospital were cutting-edge technology back then.

We are far from reaching the advanced sophistry of C3PO, the protocol droid in Star Wars who was designed to facilitate human-cyborg relations and could translate between more than seven million forms of communication, but our progress over the past few years has nonetheless been quite remarkable. Now we have robots acting as porters in hotels, delivering items directly to guests in their rooms upon request, as I discovered during a recent staycation at the Grand Copthorne Waterfront. These robots are packed with navigational sensors that allow them to find their way around the building independently while avoiding obstructions and humans, and wireless communication antennas that allow them to control the elevators and in-room telephones throughout the hotel.

And we are even allowing robots into our very own inner sanctums: robotic vacuum cleaners, which are basically vacuum cleaners that move around by themselves using artificial intelligence, are now fairly commonplace. They keep our house floors clean without us having to get off our lazy backsides, bringing much relief to overworked mums everywhere.

My mum is one such poor overworked soul. In addition to her day job, she does all the usual household chores that women do, and takes care of the house rabbits too. To help lighten her load, and because I was flush with success from my purchase of the WiFi extender, I decided to buy a robotic vacuum cleaner for the house.

As usual with technology products, my family is late to the game. The majority of middle-class Singapore families already own a robotic vacuum cleaner. So I had plenty of people to consult about buying one. One friend even took a video specially for me, to show me how it does not pose a threat to pet rabbits, which she also has. Hers was a Xiaomi Roborock 1, and she was satisfied with its performance.

I went onto Lazada again, and compared the various robotic vacuum cleaners on offer. The Xiaomi Roborock 2 impressed me greatly as it packed the most amount of features yet went for the lowest price. Anybody who is familiar with the smartphone market will know that this is typical of Xiaomi. My phone is a Xiaomi and it is badass!

But I still had slight reservations. Even though it was relatively cheap, and this year has been a bumper harvest for me economically due to my earnings from freelance writing plus the SG Bonus, it was still going to cost me a few hundred dollars. Then one day I went downstairs on the way to the car for an exam on campus and saw, in the trash heap, an empty Xiaomi Roborock cardboard box that someone else in my block must have discarded the previous day. And I was sold. Like I said to the abovementioned friend: "It must be a message from the gods!" And, perhaps a little annoyed by my incessant pestering, she replied: "Just buy it lah!" (Note: lah is an expression in Singapore English which is added to the ends of sentences to make them more emphatic.)

So when the 12/12 sale started on 10 December, I ordered the Xiaomi Roborock 2 in a combo deal that included refill packs and accessories for the various protuberances on the device. The machine itself was at a markdown, buying the accessories as a bundle came with some small discounts, and I instantly earned and redeemed a $10 voucher for spending above $500 in a single transaction, so I saved about $50 in total. Including delivery, I spent roughly $550.

Unlike my friend's Xiaomi Roborock 1, which is an older model, my Xiaomi Roborock 2 has an additional water tank so not only can it vacuum away dust, it can also mop the floor! All you have to do is fill up the water tank and slot it, and the cloth attachment, into the robot. The robot finds its way around your home on its own and is even able to detect cliff edges and stop itself from falling. One of the steps in my house is of an odd height which is too low for the robot to detect as a problematic drop, but too high for the robot to climb back up once it has fallen. But the designers thought of that too, and created some magnetic tape that you can stick to demarcate forbidden zones that you do not want the robot to enter. And when its battery is low, it will return to the docking station by itself, where it will recharge before going back to the spot where it left off and resuming its work from there! It truly is a "fire and forget" solution to your cleaning needs.

You control the robot's settings using the Mi Home app which you must install onto your smartphone. The first time you use the robot, you will have to use Bluetooth on your phone to communicate with the vacuum cleaner to get it to connect to your home WiFi network. Subsequently it will detect your home WiFi network automatically. Once the robot and your phone both have internet connections, you can use the Mi Home app to issue instructions to the robot, such as telling it to clean the whole house or just a specific area. The robot uses lasers like an insect uses its feelers to map out its surroundings, and will bump gently against obstacles to see if they are solid like the side of a bed or can be passed through like a curtain. It draws out this map live as it moves around your house and you can see the map, which looks like a radar plot, being created right in front of your eyes on the app. You can use the app to schedule regular cleanups too, meaning that the robot will activate itself at specific times of your choosing, and return to the docking station to recharge once it has finished its rounds. Through the app, you can also adjust the mode of the vacuum, such as making it quieter but sacrificing suction power, or stronger but noisier; or set it to use the mop function. When the robot has something to tell you, like "Finished cleaning. Going back to the dock.", it will verbalise the message in its default female English voice, but you can change the voice pack in the app too. There are options for Spanish, German, Italian, French, and many cartoon-inspired Chinese ones.

The yellow dot shows the position of the robot in real time. The green lightning symbol shows the location of the docking station, which is where the robot automatically returns to when it is idle.

How does the robot perform at its function of keeping the floor clean? Marvellously well. One round of my house by my robot produces a ball of fluff in the dustbin roughly the size of an adult's fist. The mopping ability is handy too, but it does run out of water fairly quickly and you will have to keep an eye on it and top up the water when needed. It also does not do as thorough a job when mopping as it does when vacuuming, so it cannot totally replace a woman with a stick.

The rabbits in my house are slowly getting used to the robot. At first they were slightly alarmed by the sound, and a little freaked out by the sight of a plastic contraption moving on its own, but now they have made an uneasy peace with it and are content to keep a wary eye on it so that they can walk away if it comes too close.

Here you can see the rabbit adopting a classic attack posture towards the robotic vacuum cleaner. It has placed its weight on its front paws to give it more power when it lunges; its ears are flared wide open and pointed directly at the target.

Speaking of the rabbits...

Bun Lightyear

These fancy pet carriers are also from Lazada, imported from China. But they were not bought by me, but by a friend as a Christmas gift.

What sets this design apart from that of a bog-standard pet carrier is that the big bubble window in front allows the animal inside to see out. It is also shaped like a backpack so instead of holding it by a handle like normal carriers, you strap it over your shoulders.

The inside is spacious enough for one rabbit to lie down comfortably, or two rabbits to stand side by side with wiggle room left over.

Perfect for a leisurely stroll in the great outdoors, when the rabbit gets some much-needed sunlight while travelling in style, and the human being carting them around gets some much-needed exercise!

21

So that's it. I've finally racked up 21 veterancy levels spent 21 long years on this sh*thole.

Yup, I turned 21 two days ago. Oh, before I forget to mention, this post is freshly written, not one of those scheduled ones that have been coming out recently.

Celebration at Tomi Sushi

We had a family dinner at Tomi Sushi on my birthday night.

Tomi Sushi is a Japanese restaurant at Millenia Walk. It's positioned at a higher price point than the Sakaes and Genkis of this world, but that simply means you get better ingredients and more exotic delicacies. After all, #yougetwhatyoupayfor.

I had certain foodstuffs that I definitely had to try. One of which was tuna belly, or otoro, indicated with the red circle in the picture below.

Eight kinds of sashimi with three slices each. Price: $140

Found only in higher-end Japanese restaurants, otoro is the fattiest cut of the bluefin tuna, and is best eaten sashimi-style or just lightly torched. Not cooking the fish ensures that you won't lose the aroma from the fats and oils in the meat.

The otoro was melt-in-the-mouth tender, and had the fragrance of good fats. You know, like the sinful kind you get when you bite into a piece of deep-fried pork lard from the noodle stall.

Otoro is also available on its own at a princely $52 for five slices.

The other items in the sashimi collection shown above were excellent too. Although salmon is not very special in the sense that all Japanese restaurants sell it, the one served here was extra soft and extra satisfying for some reason. I literally needed to put only a little bit of pressure on it with my teeth and the whole thing disintegrated. Yum!

Another item I really wanted to try was mentaiko, or cod roe. Mentaiko has been in Singapore for a while now, and is most often found mixed into sauce for pasta at bistros and artisanal cafes. But Tomi Sushi sells the mentaiko in its original form, which actually looks quite disgusting.

I had eaten three of the five sacs before remembering to get a photo. Oh well.

The entire mentaiko consists of a membrane layer wrapped around a densely packed ball of tiny pearls. If you've ever eaten tobiko (flying fish roe) or ebiko (prawn roe) you will be familiar with these tiny pearls which, in the case of mentaiko, are orange in colour.

What will probably gross many people out is the fact that you can see veins running along the outside of the membrane casing. Hey, it came from a living animal right? Of course it has veins! Imagine eating a raw human ovary whole. Wouldn't the ovary itself have veins?

Let's talk about the flavour. It was very, very strong and fishy, with a powerful bitter aftertaste. Don't worry though, because chilli powder is sprinkled liberally over the plate to offset the bitterness somewhat. The tiny pearls were smooth and easy to swallow, while the membrane was slightly chewier but still pretty decent. For $8, this dish is worth a go, if only to give yourself the honour of having tasted this seemingly repulsive body part.

The last delicacy on my list was uni, or sea urchin. If raw mentaiko is controversial, uni is downright divisive. You either love it or loathe it.

When I declared my intention to eat uni to a friend over WhatsApp, she said: "Oh, it is such an acquired taste. The first time I had it, I almost puked (because) it wasn’t fresh, (and) I never touched it again. But the second time was when a friend forced me to eat it, (and) it was just splendid. When you get fresh urchin, it is the best thing in the world. Now I have it in all my sashimi bowls."

How I love food that many others hate! In my family I'm the only one who eats oysters on the shell. My parents pull faces when I slurp the slimy flesh, and that amuses me no end.

So it was armed with this adventurous spirit that I proceeded to put a blob of uni in my mouth. The solitary uni gunkan, or so-called battleship-type sushi because of its elongated shape, came as part of a variety set containing many different kinds of sushi. My parents each sampled a miniscule dollop of uni with great caution, after which they both proclaimed themselves "not a fan". Good! I wolfed down the rest.

Online sources I consulted aren't very good at describing the taste, with many content to fall back on the cop-out "You have to taste it for yourself." Here I'll attempt to put the taste in words as best as I can. This was how it was to me:

When it first hits your tongue, you get a strange odour, almost like the water in a heavily used public swimming pool. Then you get salty yet buttery notes, and the creamy consistency reminds you of extremely thickened and concentrated peanut butter. It certainly has the colour of peanut butter... What's that!? Just as you let the entire glob slide its way seductively down your throat, a hit of eye-watering earthy smell, reminiscent of fermented shrimp paste (Malay belachan) or the fruit of the pangium edule tree (Peranakan buah keluak), assails your nostrils.

Doesn't it sound absolutely delicious!? Layer upon layer of punchy nuanced flavours. My god, I had zero regrets. I went on to order two more by themselves.

Highlighting how prized they are, two pieces of uni "battleship" sushi costs $20.

Special mention deservedly goes to the sushi rice. Tomi Sushi imports a unique breed of shortgrain rice from Niigata, Japan, which is used in all the dishes. I don't know what sorcery they cast on the rice plants, but they have managed to produce rice that not only tastes amazing but is pillowy soft and fluffy at the same time. Each individual grain also soaks up every bit of seasoning you could possibly slather on, making it the perfect base for literally anything else on the menu.

The rice and the uni were, quite simply, a match made in heaven.

I rounded off the meal with a scoop of Jersey milk ice cream. They were fairly generous with the portion for $4.20 as it was a big lump. It came hard frozen but the spoon cuts through it easily. The taste was spectacularly creamy and milky, doing justice to the Jersey dairy cows which are valued for their superior-quality milk. What I like about Japanese-style ice cream is that no vanilla is added, allowing the milk to shine through as the star of the show.

Service and ambience at Tomi Sushi were of high standard. The staff were polite and knowledgeable about the menu. Food came out of the kitchen at a rapid pace. The kitchen is open-concept so you can look right in. All the chefs are true-blue Japanese, which is delightful because you can rest assured that they know what is good Japanese cuisine.

The not-so-good part of turning 21

I'm very fond of a formula I came across a long time ago. Have you heard of converting human years to dog years to find out how old your pet dog truly is? Well, there's a formula for converting the age of someone with my disease, Spinal Muscular Atrophy Type 2, to the equivalent age of a healthy human being. You take the age of the SMA2 person, divide it by five, and multiply it by 12.

Applying the formula, I am a whopping 50.4 years old.

No wonder I've been feeling so bleah lately! Every day I wake up and struggle to summon the mental fortitude to get out of bed to face the day ahead. It's as if there is a magnetic attraction between my body and the bed.

My physical strength is also waning slowly but surely due to the progression of the disease. I need close to two hours to finish my dinner nowadays because the muscles in my craniofacial area are weak and slow. This is unsustainable in the long run and my doctors will eventually win in their bid to feed me through a stomach tube. My only consolation is that I will still be able to enjoy my favourite food and drinks via oral ingestion like a normal person, with the tube being used to deliver the staple bulky part of the diet that provides the energy to get through the day.

Further along, I will inevitably lose more and more of my bodily functions. That fills me with dread because the day I lose my ability to sit with my laptop and type is the day I lose all sense of meaning and purpose in life.

My parents, who are my caregivers, also aren't getting younger. They're both above 50. I can't afford to outlive them because there's no way I'll be able to survive independently, being completely helpless to complete even basic tasks like feeding myself or putting on my own clothes.

Thoughts like these have been racing through my mind recently as I contemplate all that has passed and all that has yet to be, and I have come to the realisation that, happy as I am with life at this moment, I have no desire to reach the next decade milestone. By then, I'd probably be so far gone that it wouldn't be worthwhile anymore.

Far better to check out of the Planet Earth motel while I'm still active and vital. As they say, quit while you're in front.

(Note: If you are reading this and recall some suicide-prevention message you saw advising you to look out for signs of people wanting to kill themselves, please calm down. I have no intention to off myself. These are just reflections on how things would ideally pan out for me. I leave it in the hands of fate to determine whether it actually happens this way or not, and will not personally make it come true by doing something drastic.)

The good part of turning 21

Becoming a legally recognised adult is, I suppose, a double-edged sword. On the positive side, I have rights now. For example, I can watch any movie I want, even those with gratuitous volumes of sex and violence. I can file paperwork with the government, get married, change my name, and make a will. Not that I have any worldly possessions to will away.

On the other hand, people can also sue me. I can become bankrupt, get arrested and charged for any of the myriad offences in the statutes, and even be detained and thrown in jail for no reason under the Internal Security Act.

The thing I'm most excited about, though, is that I'll get to vote in the next General Election, widely predicted to be taking place next year. I have been taking more interest in keeping up with the news ever since being encouraged to do so by my media writing instructor last semester, and it will be fun to finally get to exercise my power to vote and make tangible and concrete my feelings and opinions about the goings-on in Singapore.

Instead of just writing about them in the newspaper. TODAYonline, to be exact. My university department, the Department of Communications and New Media at the National University of Singapore, tied up with the editor in charge of the Opinion section of TODAY, and we students were invited to write articles for possible publication there. I was extremely enthused by the prospect of getting a byline in such a major media outlet so I immediately banged out and submitted a piece. From there, I developed a working relationship with the editor including becoming Connections with him on LinkedIn, and suddenly I have a queue of articles, consisting of a mixture of lengthier commentaries and shorter letters, on various current affairs issues pending release.

Perhaps the clearest indication of my newfound adult-ness is that, in my emails to the editor, I open with "Hi Jason," whereas the younger me would have written "Hi Mr Tan".

I wonder what my sociolinguistics professor would have to say about that in terms of theories of politeness and negotiation of social relations.

My recess week: AY2018/19 Semester 1

With no more online modules, I'm spending more time in school nowadays compared to previous semesters. But that's okay because fortunately, the module combination I've chosen is light on project work and heavy on individual assessment components, meaning that I have more control over how I spend my time and plan my workflow without having to accommodate the schedules of other people as much.

Nonetheless, this recess week has been a nice respite from the grinding cycle of readings, tutorials, and writing up lecture notes for every topic of every module every week. I got some fun stuff in, to recharge my mental energy and get me ready to deal with the second half of the semester.

Here are some highlights.

Johnny English Strikes Again

In my humble opinion, the Johnny English film franchise is the best thing to happen in the realm of action comedy. Having greatly enjoyed the first two movies in the series, I almost fainted in delight when trailers for a third appeared early this year.

The movie had an aggressive marketing campaign behind it. Advertisements bombarded me on television, social media, and out-of-home. It certainly worked on me, as I coughed up some of my meagre pocket money on Thursday to take myself and my parents to watch the film.

We went to Shaw Cinemas at Punggol Waterway Point. Shaw is the most affordable cinema chain in Singapore with a regular adult ticket for weekday afternoons priced at $8.50, a dollar lower than the competition. It also offers unbeatable deals for students at $6.50 for a weekday afternoon screening, and seniors at $4.00 for the same. I bought one of each of the three types of ticket so I paid $19 in total.

Cost aside, Shaw is also very friendly to disabled patrons. Their website lists detailed instructions on accessibility arrangements to the various cinema halls, taking the guesswork out of trying to decide where to go to catch a movie as someone in a wheelchair. As disabled patrons are usually accompanied by caregivers, the cinema also provides a short row of three special seats right at the back of the hall next to the slot for the wheelchair, so that the caregivers are guaranteed to sit next to their charge. This special row of seats is usually blocked off and nobody can book them, and the counter staff at the box office will only open them up for booking when a disabled cinemagoer turns up with caregivers.

Screenshot of the Shaw Cinemas Waterway Point page. The blue box contains information specifically for disabled patrons.

When the blue box is clicked, it expands to reveal the information inside.

Let's give a round of applause to Shaw Cinemas.

Moving on, the film itself was a delight to watch and justified every single cent I spent on it, and then some. Though it may be chockfull of slapstick gags, sharp wit, wry British humour, and the evergreen rubbery facial expressions of Rowan Atkinson, the movie's plot unmistakably offers us a serious warning about the direction the world is currently heading in. With our ever-increasing reliance on digital services being controlled by an ever-shrinking pool of giant technology companies like Facebook and Google, we should be asking: "Are we really still in control of our own lives? Or are even our governments at the mercy of these companies now?"

Personally, I particularly identified with the theme of a "dinosaur", the secret agent Johnny English who is trained in old-school spycraft, being confounded by the new world, where the spies use smartphones in place of pistols and have to sign Health and Safety indemnity forms every time they use a new gadget. The Johnny English franchise explored this theme somewhat in the second film, Johnny English Reborn, but the focus then was more on how the world has become so commercialised and politically correct that the spy agency English works for got rebranded to Toshiba MI7 with the tagline "Spying for you".

I'm quite a relic myself. Sure, I use a smartphone and have Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts. But I get bored of these relatively quickly and would much rather spend my leisure time in front of the television or, when my wallet is fat enough, inside a cinema. The trend of people shunning the cinemas for Netflix escapes my comprehension. The experience of a movie that you get in the cinema, with the giant screen, booming sound system, and frigid air conditioning, is something you'll never be able to replicate at home.

Back to the movie. I also liked the abundance of Received Pronunciation accents among the characters. How refreshing to hear a movie in English that isn't filled with the American accent! The movie had several nods to pre-2000 culture too, including the songs Rasputin by Boney M and Venus by Bananarama, and the comedy television series 'Allo 'Allo! by the British Broadcasting Corporation.

It's definitely a silly movie meant for one-and-a-half hours of mindless entertainment, so if you're the type who gets frustrated by a scene of a medieval suit of armour being able to stop bullets from a modern gun, don't watch. But that's not to say it's a simplistic movie that kids will be able to appreciate either. Many of the jokes require you to take note of something that someone says early on in the movie and relate it to something that happens towards the end. You must also be sharp enough to understand the humour in lines like: "Get me a vodka and tonic, no tonic, no ice."

Panna Cotta

Saizeriya is extremely underrated. Their food is excellent, their portions are massive, their menu is comprehensive, and their prices are low.

Being a fan of Italian food, namely pasta, I've understandably come to love this casual dining restaurant chain. I recently discovered the joy of the dessert item panna cotta, which Saizeriya sells for $4.90. Made of cream thickened into a pudding-like consistency with gelatin, the version sold here is specially flown in from Italy so you can be sure that you're getting the authentic dish!

Panna cotta with caramel sauce from Saizeriya at City Square Mall.

Suitably rested, I'm now ready for the next two months until the next break in December!