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.

Keep Calm and Battle On!

I was recently reminded of this blog when I made a new friend, let's call her M, at work, and showed it to her so she could get to know me better.

My last post was over a year ago. I felt I really should update it, give it some love and a fresh lick of paint.

Besides, it's been a while since I've written anything for my own enjoyment. Writing is now my job, but I want to rediscover the joys of doing it for its own sake as well.

So when inspiration struck in the form of a sudden wave of nostalgia brought about by experiencing an old childhood game in a totally new way, I decided I'd take advantage of this four-day extended weekend to pump out a new post.

Let's start from the very beginning, shall we?

The light of mana

A ball of yellow flame burst from the adventurer's hand, striking the mer-monster square in the chest.

The mer-monster, which had the tail of a fish but a hideous-looking body, staggered in pain, then retaliated, blasting the adventurer with a water spell.

The adventurer recovered and readied another ball of yellow in his hand.

"No no no, why you keep using 'Light of Mana'? This monster is weak to energy, so you should use energy spells, not light!"

A voice cuts in. A hand grabs the cursor and positions it over the "monster attributes" section of the screen, causing a popup to appear.

It displayed a dizzying array of numbers.

That was the moment I fell head-over-heels in love with computer games, especially those involving the Skinner box design philosophy of "big numbers getting bigger", with a bit of RNG thrown in for good measure.

Geeky pastime

The owner of the voice, and the hand, was my classmate.

Now, please remember that this was a long time ago. We were in Primary 3, and it was a post-exam period so we were all left to our own devices in the school's computer lab. But I'm pretty sure his name was Isaac, and back then he lived in Jalan Tiga.

He was a short, chubby boy with big, round, black-framed glasses. Exactly the sort of quiet, geeky kid who would be suffering wedgies every day at the hands of the jocks if we had been in a typical American school. Fortunately, this is the nerd capital of the world, Singapore.

We were sharing one of the school computers. He had offered to show me a computer game. I had not played computer games before that day, because I was quite deprived of life beyond academics.

"It's called BattleOn," he told me breathlessly, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

He logged into his account and showed me the basics. Click "Attack" to attack with your primary weapon, click "Spells" to choose a magical attack, click "Weapons", "Shields", "Armor", and "Pets" to change your loadout. Seemed simple enough.

I played on his account for a while, during which he taught me more about the game mechanics, such as why it's not a good strategy to spam 'Light of Mana', which was the spell he had used when demonstrating the game to me, against every monster.

Basically, most monsters conform to a certain element, which makes them weak to the opposing element. So for example, the mer-monster, whose exact name escapes me, I was fighting was a water-based creature, so its weakness was energy.

Similarly, fire creatures are weak to ice, darkness creatures are weak to light, and so on. You should tailor your attacks to exploit your opponent's weaknesses.

Eventually, Isaac popped the question.

"Do you want your own account?"

I answered yes. Less than ten minutes later, he had me all set up.

Jonathan798 was good to go.

The marijuana of computer games

I like to say that for '90s kids, BattleOn was the "gateway drug" for those of us who would eventually become hooked on computer games.

It was simple enough for our tiny, kiddy brains to handle, yet complex enough to introduce us to fundamental game mechanics and concepts such as the rock-paper-scissors approach that the combat systems of most games essentially boil down to.

And it had that potent combination of monster variety, quests and lore, and "just one more level before bed".

I've always had an addictive personality, so that "just one more level before bed" effect was very strong on me.

As I tend to do, I flung myself headlong into the game, grinding the levels day after day.

Every recess time, I would proudly report back to Isaac what level I had achieved the night before.

I think I got a bit tiresome, because one day he got a bit irritated and said: "This is not a competition."

Oops.

Rose-tinted nostalgia

I eventually graduated to bigger games like RuneScape, but I always kept Jonathan798. Every couple of years, I would revisit him and play with him again for a while.

The feeling of familiarity, of homecoming, of simpler times, never fails to bring a smile to my face.

When work stress got to me a couple of weeks ago, I took Jonathan798 out for a spin again.

I posted about it on social media. M's husband saw my post, and immediately recognised the game, declaring it a "legendary game". Damn right it is!

He said that when he was a kid, he had a Guardian account with the Blade of Awe!

WTF... Jonathan798 was about 15 years old, and level 80+, but he was not a Guardian, nor did he have the Blade of Awe.

I had wasted hours as a kid, jostling with the other free players around the world for the very limited 8,000 server places available to us.

I remember, with a tinge of disgust, repeatedly being greeted with the all-too-familiar message that the server was full, and if I really wanted to play, I should become a Guardian so I wouldn't have to queue like a poor person.

I felt like such a pleb. The situation was unacceptable. How would I remedy this?

A quick Google search later, I had my answer. A one-off payment of US$19.95 would make me a Guardian, while a one-off payment of US$24.95 would make me a Guardian with X-Boost, which is essentially a bunch of cool upgrades over the regular Guardian account type.

I thought about the fact that RuneScape is costing me just under a hundred bucks a year on a recurring membership. BattleOn's Guardianship is a permanent unlock for a single payment, and the price is very low by today's industry standards.

My mind was made up. "Go big or go home," I said to myself as I bought the higher tier. "Look who's back, to buy the thing he couldn't afford as a kid."

Breathing new life into an old hobby

First order of business: acquire the Blade of Awe. It's essentially a very powerful weapon only available to Guardians.

To get it, you have to collect five pieces of the weapon. These will spawn in rare treasure chests which randomly appear as you play.

Once you have all five weapon components, bring them to Valencia, a rare item hunter in the main city, who will assemble them for you into the complete sword.

I was expecting a long, RNG-based grind to find and collect all five pieces, but when I spoke to Valencia, she immediately said I had everything I needed and she promptly made and presented me with the Blade of Awe!

Apparently, free players are able to find the weapon pieces, just that they can't put them together, and at some point over the last 15 years, I had successfully collected all five of them.

Presenting... the Blade of Awe!

It's a very pog weapon. For me, regular attacks hit in the high two-digits or low three-digits, and it has random special attacks which can hit in the high three-digits. It also grows stronger with the player's level, and I've seen veteran players hitting thousands of damage with it!

Of course, the Blade of Awe is not the only thing Guardianship has to offer. There are lots of new classes of combat to train in, and I can also go further in depth into the older classes that were available in free-to-play on a restricted basis, now that I'm no longer subject to those limitations.

My X-Boost also netted me extra Z-Tokens, the game's premium MTX currency. So I bought a cottage.

Apparently the cottage comes with several plots of real estate for me to build stuff on for resource gathering. I'm still figuring out this part.

And of course, I now have unfettered access to every single item, quest, and location in the entire game.

Jonathan798, my trusty BattleOn account that Isaac helped me create when I was nine years old, is reborn.

A new adventure is just beginning!

Jonathan's Year in Review 2020

I was shocked to discover recently that the decade is ending on 31 December 2020. I had been under the impression that it had ended last year, because you count from 2010 to 2019, then 2020 to 2029, and so on right? But apparently not. Between mirthful snorts of laughter at my ignorance, my father explained it to me like this: There was no year 0. The first year was 1. So the decades are counted as follows: 1 to 10, 11 to 20, ... 2011 to 2020, 2021 to 2030, and so on.

I had never felt more stupid in my life. My whole life has been a fucking lie!

Anyway, since this year is such a milestone being the end of a decade and all, I thought I should take a moment (actually several thousand moments, because this whopper of a post is going to take me quite a while to write) to look back on the year and the decade as a whole, and reflect on all that's happened.

Decade in review: 2011 to 2020

This section won't be as long as you might expect. I mean, a lot of things happen in a 10-year period, but I won't be cramming the entire decade's worth of stuff in here. And it's not for editorial reasons either. No, the reason is much more straightforward: I don't remember.

Indeed, I'm getting on in age, and feeling the effects of every single day of wear and tear on my body, mind, and spirit. So unfortunately, I do get senior moments increasingly often, including forgetfulness and the dreaded tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon where I want to say a particular word but it remains just beyond reach of my consciousness and I end up stuttering like an idiot for a few seconds until my brain kicks back into gear and catches up. A neurological disorder like spinal muscular atrophy affects only my physical health directly; that much is true. In fact, this decade has been marked by a noticeable decline in my condition and I give myself at best even odds of making it through the next decade alive and an almost 0% chance of making it to the end of the one after. But even though the mental and intellectual parts of me are not affected by the disease, when the body has to commit almost all of its resources to keeping itself running, the mind and spirit do suffer from deprivation and, as a result, they do deteriorate as well.

That's not to say I'm a dullard. I know I'm not. I'm damn good at what I do, and I have only gotten smarter over the course of the decade. A lot of this has to do with my tertiary education.

First, I took the unorthodox step of opting for a polytechnic diploma course rather than following the traditional junior college route after finishing secondary school. (For my overseas readers: Polytechnic is a bit like what the Americans call "community college". It focuses more on knowledge that is relevant to the real world. Junior college is a continuation of the traditional school system where students learn the standard subjects like calculus, chemistry, literature, and so on.)

Polytechnic was great. I studied psychology, and although many of the theories and research techniques I had to memorise have since faded into the fog of history, the important principles remain and have influenced the way I navigate social relations and the big, bad world out there. It matured me as a person, turning me from a book-smart teen who was utterly lost when asked to do anything that didn't involve examination papers into someone a little more shrewd, streetwise, and capable.

I also learned other useful skills like Microsoft Office, which is wonderful because I don't know how I would have learned it otherwise. Knowing how to use Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, Outlook, and Excel is a basic requirement for all office jobs, so I'm glad I had good instruction in them. It certainly saved me a lot of bungling around when I went for my internships.

Speaking of internships, I've done two. To me, the key takeaways from them were not subject-matter expertise and domain knowledge, but the more intangible aspects. I learned to trust myself more, as I consistently produced work of such quality that I ultimately got a full-time job offer from my second internship firm. I have struggled with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt all my life, wondering if I will ever be "good enough", so this was a balm to my soul.

Of course, I cannot forget the relationships I formed along the way. I was so lucky to have been surrounded by colleagues who were welcoming and accommodating. They readily took me into the fold and treated me as one of their own. Even though I'm no longer working at my first internship firm, I'm still in contact with some of the colleagues I grew closer to through social media and instant messaging.

And outside of internships, how can I forget the friends that fate so kindly sent my way? Three deserve a special mention (initials are used for privacy and I have purposely written very vague details to remove potentially identifying information):

SOF, whom I randomly messaged one day because I was obsessed with a certain adorable mascot and he was a manager at the organisation the mascot represents. He turned out to be a really cool guy with quite a similar personality to me (along with matching fierce faces which don't smile easily), so we are now good friends.

LS, whose job it was to take care of me at one of the educational institutions I attended. Instead of treating me as just another case on her files, she bothered to fight through my tough exterior (didn't I mention I have a fierce face?) and get to know the awesome person trapped inside. She hasn't fled from me yet, so I guess she decided I'm not that bad.

(I only met the third friend this year, so I will talk about her in the next section.)

And that's the thing. People who do manage to break through my defences often find that I'm a pretty okay guy. It's like the old saying: "She's a bitch until you actually get to know her."

How did I become a bitch? Think of it this way. When you do a lot of manual work with your hands, you accumulate superficial damage on your skin which results in the formation of calluses, right? The same thing happens with emotions.

In my case, I have been fighting a battle that has lasted for 23 years and counting. Every day is a struggle as my banged-up body fights to sustain the increasing demands of a perfectly healthy and active mind which wants to do anything and everything. And as they say, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

The public only sees the "idealised" version of me through the media. They think I'm a superman who has overcome my disease and achieved amazing feats. But I haven't. As a child, I lost countless hours of sleep just lying in bed ruminating about my life, wondering "why me?", thinking of the possibilities in life that could have been, and despairing about everything I would lose out on. But those thoughts and feelings would have done me no good at all. They would have turned me into an emotional wreck that couldn't function. So I learned to shut them away in the deepest, darkest corner of my heart. And there they have mostly remained, save for the occasional incident where some of them escape and I become moody for a while until the miscreant is locked up again by the passage of time. Time does heal wounds, after all.

But bottling up my fears and sadness came at a price. I became extremely guarded against anything that might cause me distress, because I wanted to avoid triggering another wave of negativity and setting my demons free again. There was only one problem: if you think about it, "anything that might cause me distress" basically encompasses life itself. In life, shit happens. And so I expended so much energy fretting and worrying and being anxious about this, that, and the other, that I sapped my own soul and became a neurotic empty husk of a human being. This state of affairs persists until the present day. Psychologists would say I have a flattened affect: my eyes are dull and lifeless, and my face fails to convey the full range of human emotions.

So that's the story of how I became a bitch.

How, then, is it possible that there are people, whom I call my friends, who have discovered another version of me? Well, first they had to get past my flattened affect which, admittedly, is very off-putting. Communicating via messaging apps has been a godsend in this regard because they don't have to see my face. Once they had done that, they then had to convince me that it was safe to let them get close to me. The true me, the one who has spent 23 years cowering in the inner sanctum of my mind, trying to avoid getting eaten by the demons who have made it their mission to destroy him once and for all.

That's the version of me who is really nice. He's great fun, has a sense of humour, is kind, and cares a lot for the few people who get through to him. But he does all that to mask his own problems, as well as seek vicarious happiness in others and do his bit to save others from going through the same pain as him, as much as he can. He's very selective though, because he doesn't have all the time in the world to be nice to all and sundry. He does need to remain alert against those demons, you know.

Would I change the way I am? Honestly, no. I find that my bitchiness is a great filter that keeps out the riff-raff whose continued presence in my life would serve no purpose other than to weigh me down and piss me off. The people who truly matter will self-select by persevering through the facade of bitchiness. In this way, I don't have to spend time and energy looking for friends. The ones who are worth having will come to me. I make a clear distinction between acquaintances and friends and don't use the word "friend" willy-nilly. The people who get the label of "friend" have earned their stripes. I don't need or want a ton of friends. That would be extremely tiring. I'm far happier with a tiny handful of very close ones.

And that is how I try to keep my spirit healthy. At least some part of me is holding together, albeit barely.

Year in review: 2020

How can I talk about this year without mentioning the Covid-19 pandemic? I can't, so as tired as the topic has become, I won't attempt to skirt around it.

Honestly, as the world was bitching and moaning about how distressing lockdowns were to people's emotions, I was having the time of my fucking life. Yes, all things considered, I've had quite the opposite experience of 2020 than most people. It's been a good year, and I would consider it one of the most standout high points in my life.

These are three momentous occurrences that 2020 was responsible for.

I got a gastrostomy

It was in 2018 that I noticed I had started losing strength in my throat muscles which controlled the swallowing reflex. I wrote about it here. You will see that back then, I was vehemently against the idea of being tube-fed. How perspectives change in two years.

After struggling through my meals throughout the remainder of 2018 and the entirety of 2019, I thought: "Screw it. I don't want to be spending three hours every single day for the rest of my life slaving over food. There are so many better ways to spend those three hours. Besides, I'm spending so much energy on the very act of eating that the net effect is I'm probably losing calories by burning them faster than I'm taking them in via the food, defeating the whole point of food intake!"

So I asked my doctors for a gastrostomy. It happened in 2020, and you can read about it here.

In the end, the aftermath of the procedure didn't quite go as smoothly as I described in that post. About two months after starting on the tube-feeding regimen, I developed a very wet cough that wouldn't go away. I also suddenly felt really drained of energy all the time. My ability to function in my daily life was affected, as I would have to lie in bed with my ventilator strapped to my face every time I suffered an attack of the wet cough. The lethargy was also slowing down my mind which, as you know, is the only thing on this damned body of mine that actually works properly and allows me to earn money.

I couldn't go on like that! So my doctors came and did a bunch of tests, ruling out infection. Then they more or less ran into a wall and got stumped. None of their gadgets could identify a biological reason for my symptoms. But there had to be one!

My mother remembered that when I was a child, I would get wet coughs whenever she gave me too much milk. And the formula feed I was on, Ensure Plus, was dairy-based. It was possible that I was reacting badly to it, since I was taking in 800ml of it every day.

The medical professionals were okay with my parents doing an experiment to test this hypothesis. So I began taking a reduced 600ml volume of Ensure Plus. My symptoms improved slightly but didn't totally go away. A further cutback to 400ml did the trick. After a few days on the half-diet, I felt like I was back to my old self again.

One day, the dietitian found out about a product called Isomil 3 and drew my father's attention to it. It's a dairy-free, soy-based formula for babies. I went on it for a few weeks and found that I was energetic and my lungs remained clear.

Throughout this time, my weight was fluctuating wildly. From an initial 16kg before the tube insertion, it shot up under the 800ml Ensure Plus regimen, stabilised under the 600ml one, started coming down under the 400ml one, then crashed further after the switch to Isomil. Because one of the goals that my father and the dietitian have is to keep my weight at around 20kg, they were not pleased when my weight tumbled to about 19kg. So we are still in the midst of trying to find a regimen that works optimally. But at least now we know that we need to be careful with the amount of dairy we include.

The benefits I mentioned in that post, though, endure. I don't have to fight against my failing body to eat dinner every night, so I have so much more time and energy to do other things.

Which brings me to my next momentous occurrence...

RuneScape

I know I've talked about this ad nauseam recently, especially since I've been playing it a lot during my newly freed-up evenings. But instead of waxing lyrical about the game, I'll talk about something else this time.

The wonderful thing about multiplayer role-playing games like RuneScape is the social aspect. I don't have the strength to go out and mingle with people in real life, and anyway, going anywhere is fraught with logistical complexities such as having to be transported to the destination safely and chaperoned around by an experienced caregiver, which in the vast majority of cases is my father.

So it's pretty hard for me to maintain social contact with other humans. Do I get lonely? Yeah for sure, all the time in fact, especially as I get older and see my contemporaries meet their life partners and settle down. That's something I'll never have, and although I like to look on the bright side and think about how much of my money is freed up by not having to worry about costs like a house, a car, and my children's education, allowing me to buy more nice things for myself and my loved ones in the here and now, I do sometimes wonder what would have been. I have the feeling I would've been an awesome dad, but I guess I'll never know.

We RuneScapers like to say that RuneScape is not a dating site. But what it offers me is an avenue to meet new people and make new friends. Remember the third friend I mentioned in the previous section? We met through RuneScape. Although we live very different lives on opposite sides of the planet, our values, opinions, and personalities align so closely it's actually uncanny. She's like a younger, hardier, more street-smart, and less cowardly version of me, or the baby sister I could never have.

It's also really cool finally having a friend who is around my age and not several decades older. I mean, I love my other friends like SOF and LS to bits, but I sometimes wonder at my inability to form close ties with anyone younger. Well, I don't have to wonder anymore. We get along so well, and because just like me, she is way more intelligent and keen to learn than the vast majority of our peers, we can have such deep and meaningful discussions about wide-ranging topics from culture to entertainment to current affairs. I get so exhausted making mindless small talk with airheaded people so chatting with her is extremely refreshing because she's not averse to diving into the heavy stuff. She's even willing to play Agony Aunt with me when I go all mushy and emotional, because she believes in confronting your emotions and not hiding them away. That's reflected in the music we like, which is the older type that contains meaning rather than that candy-pop Korean drivel that's so "in" these days. Have a listen to this song by a band she introduced me to which I developed a liking for.

I'm truly in awe at how fortunate I am that fate so kindly sent this very special person into my path this year. (Note: Although I have written about this friend in such glowing terms, let me make it abundantly clear that my relationship with her is strictly "BFF" in nature. This is not an Avril Lavigne song.)

I graduated and did quite well

The third momentous occurrence was when I received official confirmation that I had passed my final semester and was to be conferred my degree from the National University of Singapore, the best university in Asia and training ground of Singapore's sex offenders.

I finished with a score of 4.85 out of 5, and my degree is classed as an Honours with Highest Distinction. That was a bit of a Covid-induced fluke, to be honest. As I explained in my Facebook post announcing this happy news:

The Covid-19 pandemic gave me a better degree than I would otherwise have gotten.

My cumulative average point (CAP) was well on track to qualifying me for an Honours with Highest Distinction. But to get Honours with Highest Distinction in regular times, there was an additional hurdle: a thesis had to be written. If a student got a CAP of more than 4.5 but did not write a thesis, they would only get an Honours with Distinction, which is the class below Honours with Highest Distinction.

Such was my distaste for research, however, that I was willing to accept the lower class of Honours in return for not having to suffer through the process of writing a thesis. This was not an emotionally driven decision; I had consulted my superiors at my internship firm and they said it really did not matter career-wise whether I got the highest class of Honours or the one just below.

It turned out that in the end, this tough choice to sacrifice the glory of an Honours with Highest Distinction became moot. The pandemic and the accompanying social distancing measures caused students to face great difficulties when conducting their research. Recognising this, the Faculty waived the thesis requirement for obtaining the Honours with Highest Distinction class. Students only needed to meet the CAP requirement of at least 4.5.

So that is how I lucked into getting my Honours with Highest Distinction. But as a wise man once said: "Luck is when being prepared meets opportunity". My consistent performance through the seven semesters enabled me to maintain a very high CAP that allowed me to capitalise on the favourable circumstances when they presented themselves.

And for that, I make no apologies for saying that I am immensely pleased with myself.

So yeah, now I have a top-class degree from a very reputable university to wave around when I get into stupid fights with strangers on social media. Suck it!

I can't think of a better way to use this hallowed piece of parchment.

The ramble ends here

Okay, this post became way longer than I intended. Mad respect to you if you made it to this point. You must be really interested in the nitty-gritty of my humdrum existence. I appreciate that a lot. It's rare that anyone cares so much about my banal stories.

You might also have noticed that it is now 2021. My bad! Between laziness, procrastination, distractions, real-life goings-on, and writer's block, the process of writing this post dragged on over weeks instead of the few days I had originally anticipated.

Anyway, if you are one of the elite few who have read this whole post to the end, congratulations and thank you once again for the support! You can finally be free now to go do better things with your time.

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?

On handsome swarthy artillerymen, Kleenex, and cultural awareness

A very attractive Dubai army officer stands at attention next to his gun. This unit seems to be in charge of parading every evening as part of some Muslim prayer ritual.

Mediacorp can go fuck themselves.

I mean the television side of the company, not the news side. I don't bite the hand that feeds me, and the news side of Mediacorp has been a great help to me professionally.

But the TV side just irks me no end.

Call me selfish or entitled. I don't care. I'm a Millennial, and aren't all of us supposed to be selfish and entitled?

A few months ago I wrote about Silvana Sin Lana, a Spanish telenovela that I had fallen in love with.

I wrote that after watching just a few episodes of the show. Everything I wrote back then still applies, except the part where I complained about the ear-raping quality of the dubbing. I've since gotten used to it and decided it's really not that bad.

Additionally, I've also realised that the show cleverly takes on two social issues from fresh angles.

The first is the class divide. The Villasenor family is from the upper class, at least until patriarch Antonio Jose gets disgraced and flees the country, forcing his wife Silvana, mother-in-law, and three daughters to move to a middle-class area.

As usual, there's plenty of condescension and snobbery from certain members of the Villasenor family, particularly the mother-in-law Trini and eldest daughter Maria Jose, towards their neighbours.

But the interesting thing is that the Villasenors are also subjected to discrimination by the middle-class. This is what I call reverse classism. Patent pending. :)

It seems to me that it has become fashionable nowadays to hate those who are better-off than us.

This was apparent in the backlash against a letter published in the Straits Times recently calling for more Covid-19 financial support for people living in private housing, perceived as a status symbol in Singapore where the majority of the population lives in public flats.

Many netizens, including influencer Mr Brown, dismissed the letter, taking the view that people in positions of such financial privilege don't have the right to ask for help.

A dangerous, sweepingly uncritical blanket approach, in my opinion, probably fuelled more by emotion than reason.

Silvana Sin Lana portrays reverse classism through, for example, key antagonists Margerita and Stella, who each embark on separate smear campaigns against second daughter Angie and Silvana herself over insecurities that their boyfriends George and Manuel are falling for the Villasenors.

A key pillar of their attack strategy is to engage in Othering, a legit sociological concept not created by me this time, painting the Villasenors as outsiders who don't belong in the neighbourhood.

The second social issue that Silvana Sin Lana takes on is female empowerment.

I like how the show takes the trope of the spoilt, rich housewife who can't do anything and turns it on its head. Silvana starts out as a spoilt, rich housewife who can't do anything, but quickly marshals the inner strength to learn everything from scratch, becoming a fiercely independent woman.

Yes she has the support of her sexy neighbour Manuel, but his impact on her everyday troubles is limited and she solves most of her problems herself.

Famous Latino singer Carlos Ponce is super hot, isn't he! He plays Manuel Gallardo, Silvana's neighbour and love interest. He also sings the show's theme song, which is very nice. Listen to it here.

I admire scriptwriting that's brave enough to subvert stereotypes, in this case gender roles and norms, and dares to be different and explore the question "What if?"

Another way in which Silvana Sin Lana's scriptwriting departs from convention in a tongue-in-cheek fashion: in one episode, a character runs into the middle of a busy road.

Tires screech, metal clashes against metal, and the camera zooms in on another character standing on the pavement making a horrified face.

But then the view changes to reveal that the character who charged onto the street is climbing over a bunch of wrecked cars that crashed into one another while missing her completely!

This is likely in reference to the traffic accident plot crutch that screenwriters of soap dramas often rely on.

If you've watched enough of the genre, you'll know what I mean. Even the Korean and Chinese drama serials, including those that Mediacorp makes for Channel 8, are guilty of this practice.

Vanishing act

Things were going so well. I was happily enjoying my Silvana Sin Lana on Mondays and Tuesdays at 11pm on Mediacorp Channel 5.

Opening screen of Silvana Sin Lana, showing the Telemundo logo. Telemundo is a Spanish-language production house.

Then the shit hit the fan.

For no rhyme or reason, Mediacorp canned the Monday screening and replaced it with a rerun of some trashy legal drama produced locally a decade ago. I mean, it's got Adrian Pang making his trademark constipated face. Obviously it can't be good to watch.

But this was just the foot in the door. Next, Mediacorp stuck its dirty fingers into my Tuesday slot as well. They pushed Silvana Sin Lana to 11.30pm, because they wanted to screen horror movies before it. They were creeping closer to their ultimate goal...

The endgame of which was finally revealed when they got rid of Silvana Sin Lana entirely. What. The. Hell!

I felt betrayed. I've always been a proponent of #supportlocal and faithfully follow local television productions like family soap drama Kin and police drama Code of Law.

Just when I'd decided to follow an imported show, they pull this stunt!? How can dis b allow?

It's such a dick move to start showing a series, then abruptly cut it off without a care for viewers who are now left dangling.

Thoroughly pissed off, I powered up my special Singaporean skill: I complained long and loud.

I wrote to Mediacorp Channel 5 on Facebook, Twitter, and email. They ignored me.

I tweeted to the various official accounts of Universal, the media conglomerate that owns the rights to the show.

I even wrote directly to the specific public relations officer in charge of Silvana Sin Lana at Telemundo, the studio that produced it. I received no reply; the woman probably thought I was loco.

She's probably right. I tend to develop unhealthy obsessions and when I do, I'm like a dog with a bone.

I embarked on the Kubler-Ross grief process. I started with denial: surely there was some mistake! I kept checking the schedule to see if miraculously, Silvana Sin Lana would reappear on the listing.

Then anger. To some extent I'm still angry. Bloody Mediacorp! What a disgraceful excuse for a television station. Run by a bunch of headless morons!

Next came bargaining. I couldn't accept that I could no longer watch Silvana Sin Lana. The last episode Mediacorp aired before brutally tearing it away from me ended with Manuel confessing to Silvana that he loved her. I desperately had to know how the story continued!

If I couldn't watch it on Mediacorp, maybe I could watch it somewhere else?

My hunt began on YouTube, where I discovered the Telemundo official channel. There was a playlist for Silvana Sin Lana! But each episode was only about 20 minutes long. The version on television has episodes that are around 40 minutes long. I think the ones on YouTube are abridged.

Anyway they were in Spanish, so they were of no use to me.

But in the comments section, I saw some people mention that the show is on Netflix with English subtitles. I was temporarily enthused by this revelation, but my optimism was short-lived after a quick check with an online Netflix database showed that Netflix Singapore doesn't carry the show.

Damn it, why must I be stuck on this godforsaken island!

The final nail in the coffin came when I found full episodes of Silvana Sin Lana on the Telemundo website. The video player options bar even had a setting for English closed captions. But I just couldn't get the videos to play.

I suspect they, too, were geographically restricted. When I used the built-in virtual private network on the Opera browser to spoof my location as the United States, I could get the video player to play... advertisements. :( Not the episodes proper.

Feeling deflated, I began the final two Kubler-Ross stages: depression and acceptance. To express my undying love for the series even though I could no longer watch it, I made a meme.

In my Instagram caption, I hashtagged #silvanasinlana, and my finger idly tapped onto it because I was curious to see how many other fans of the show there are around the world. I found an unexpectedly active community!

A little excited now, I hopped over to Twitter and searched the same hashtag. One post in particular would change my life.

Arabian Nights

It was by a @LaBonteLisa, who appears to be a hotshot business person. She had shared a tweet by Dubai One promoting Silvana Sin Lana. Further investigations revealed that Dubai One is a television channel in Dubai.

Darn u DubaiOne! #SilvanaSinLana (English dubbing grated --then grew on me) Now I'm hooked on a #novela and I found on demand 120 episodes in #Spanish w subtitles! Just realized clean cut Manuel #CarlosPonce @CP_FansdelMundo was the yoga stud! Salvadore in #movie Couples Retreat! https://t.co/WI397WEusp

— Lisa La Bonté (@LaBonteLisa) April 30, 2019

Lisa La Bonte's tweet had mentioned the irritating English voiceover too, so I knew that the version being screened by Dubai One was the same as the one screened by Mediacorp.

A rush of hope. Maybe there's a chance Dubai One has something like Mediacorp's MeWatch, where there's streaming video on demand. And maybe, just maybe, they would have Silvana Sin Lana accessible to me.

What the heck. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by going down this rabbit hole.

Heart pounding. Fingers flying. I searched the Dubai One website from top to bottom, clicking everything in sight and breaking every piece of cybersecurity advice in existence.

How was I to know what each button did when they were all plastered in squiggly Arabic script? I didn't care. I clicked them anyway.

If my cyberwellness teachers in school were dead, they'd be rolling over in their graves so vigorously that they'd resemble electrical turbines.

Somehow, I stumbled my way onto an affiliated site called Awaan, which I surmise to be the holding entity of Dubai One and several other channels. That would make it analogous to Mediacorp.

And I hit paydirt.

I fumbled and floundered blindly until I hit upon a switch to turn the entire site into English. Then, in a section labelled "Catch Up", I saw the magic words Silvana Sin Lana.

Silvana Sin Lana title screen.

My hand trembled as I clicked play. After fending off an aggressive Arabic female voice trying to, as far as I could ascertain, get me to buy a car, I was rewarded by the sight of Manuel...

Confessing his love to Silvana...

In English!

My luck has never been good. I still haven't got Bubbles the fishing skill pet in RuneScape despite having more than 5,000,000 experience points, which peeves me because I've seen noobs with under a million experience flaunting him.

Bubbles is a rare pet in RuneScape. Players stand a chance to obtain Bubbles each time they fish. At my fishing level of 90, I have a 0.00072% probability to get Bubbles every 2.4 seconds as long as my avatar is training the fishing skill. This probability is higher for players with higher levels in the corresponding skill. Credits: probability calculator here, picture taken from here.

But it appears that, in the case of Silvana Sin Lana, the stars had aligned for me.

Not only had Dubai One given me the opportunity to access Silvana Sin Lana for free, the episode they had shown the day before I found their site had been the last one I had seen on Mediacorp!

In other words, I could pick up the story seamlessly from where I had been!

Later, I also found the Awaan app on Google Play and installed it on my phone. Besides catch-up, I discovered I can also stream the channel live, so it's as if I'm sitting in Dubai watching it on my television set.

I already know how to screencast, so nowadays, I use my phone to stream Dubai One and cast it onto my television. I almost feel like wearing flowy white robes and buying myself a pet camel, whom I shall name Malika.

Unlike (cough, cough) Mediacorp, Dubai One has vastly superior primetime programming. Actually it's my primetime I'm referring to: 9pm to 12mn Singapore time, which is 5pm to 8pm Dubai time.

There's always a movie from 9pm to 11pm. And not some garbage like Fast and Furious or Kung Fu Panda for the bazillionth time like Mediacorp does. It's usually a lesser-known show, a little old but a goodie nonetheless.

For example, there was Legally Blonde and Failure to Launch. These are not B-grade movies! They have well-known leads. There was also Robot and Frank, which I'd never heard of but greatly enjoyed because of its intriguing and unusual premise.

I don't mind a broadcaster making this kind of film choices. I really don't care if a movie is a blockbuster or has famous people in it. As long as it makes me happy.

Stupid Mediacorp either goes for A-list movies from ten years ago or total B-grade nonsense that prominently feature supersized creatures animated by primary schoolers so that they look like bathtub toys.

A few weeks ago, they showed one such film, titled Big Ass Spider. But because we're a prudishly conservative society, they censored the title to Giant Spider instead.

Such a sad indictment of how dumb this country is.

Must be PAP's fault. ;)

Anyway, back to Dubai One. From 11pm to 12mn is Silvana Sin Lana. Yup, that's the same time as Mediacorp's original screening, except that now I get new episodes from Sunday to Thursday every week instead of only Monday and Tuesday. Screw you Mediacorp, the Arabs are better.

Between the movie and Silvana Sin Lana though, there are about 15 minutes of Muslim rituals. I'm atheist and always will be, but I still find it fascinating to watch how religions are practiced.

In Dubai, they seem to have a sunset gun salute and parade ceremony every day. A small squad of five soldiers spends about five minutes marching and waving their antique-looking rifles around, after which one of them fires a howitzer into the air.

Then some sort of prayer song is played. It's haunting, melodious, and utterly beautiful, even though I have no idea what it is saying.

The television station broadcasts daily evening prayers. I've seen similar things on Malaysian channels like RTM TV1, but this seems somehow more awe-inspiring. Maybe because Arabia is really close to the actual birthplace of Islam so its brand of the religion comes across more purely? Or perhaps it's simply because Arabia is further away from me so the whole experience benefits from feeling more exotic.

Dubai seems to be a very devout place. They have public service advertisements about Covid-19 telling people to stay safe at home, suggesting that they use their free time to "read Quran from cover to cover to stay close to Allah".

A bit extreme, maybe? When I was a Christian child I could never get past Genesis chapter 1 because that book was boring AF. Reading the whole thing might be worse than pulling teeth.

But nevertheless, such overt displays of religiosity are eye-opening for me and certainly something I'll never get to see in my sheltered Singaporean life.

Their subtle anti-Western propaganda is quite funny too. In an advertisement to discourage panic-buying, a man is shown wearing a t-shirt and pants and charging around the supermarket grabbing handfuls of stuff, with a heavy metal soundtrack playing in the background.

Abruptly cut to another man, this time wearing the traditional Arab attire of white robes. Piano music tinkles softly in the background as he paces sedately among the shelves, picking out one or two items at a time.

So it seems even the Arabs experience panic-buying. The coronavirus truly does bring the world together.

In fact most of the advertisements on Dubai One are related to Covid-19. But I don't mind watching them. Seeing foreign advertisements always gives me a thrill because it feels like I'm watching cable television.

Plus, the advertisement breaks on Dubai One are mercifully short so they don't compromise my viewing experience.

Emotional rollercoaster

And so this is the story of how it came to be, that I was sat in front of my television set, my phone lying next to it, crying my eyes out at Manuel and Silvana's forbidden love one moment, and laughing heartily at Trini and Benito's awkward antics the next, as the seasonal greeting "Ramadan Kareem" flashed across the screen every few minutes and spaghetti-like words appeared everywhere.

I enjoy watching Silvana Sin Lana because each episode takes me on an emotional rollercoaster ride. I feel like there's a chain around my throat, and the screenwriters are yanking me one way, then the other. But never did I imagine that I would have to go through an emotional rollercoaster in real life, as I journeyed across the internet to earn the right to go on the emotional rollercoaster in the show.