A metaphor and an update


Over a span of approximately six days, I watched about 2.5 seasons of Bojack Horseman. It’s been a while since I’ve stumbled on a show that made me laugh, feel sad, and question the meaning of life all within one 24 minute episode. It’s painfully realistic while absurd all at once, and hopefully it brings me the headspace clarity I so badly need these days.

I also lost my Fitbit (again). It’s missing insofar as I literally do not see it and I can’t find it, but it still syncs with my phone app so that means it’s in my room somewhere. This is frankly the most frustrating kind of missing item to be dealing with, because you know where it is supposed to be, but at the same time, it’s not there.

Update: I found my Fitbit!!


“It was fun before reality hit”

Things I did

A bunch of good, not so good, and terrible things that happened to me in the span of the last 24 hours:

  • I met up with two friends from high school (I make myself sound like a relic, but give me this, it’s been 4 years since we graduated). It was nice as I had not seen them in a very long time because of my own self-induced social isolation, but it did lead to some aggressiveness on their part as I did not initiate the dinner. But I rarely initiate plans with people, and I had to reassure them that it was a case of “it’s not you guys, it’s me” and how I really did not want to feel like I’m burdening people if they didn’t want to meet me. (I think) they understood, and was being very sweet to me, and promised me that they’ll ask me out more.
  • It was a night of bad alcoholic decisions on my part, because we went to a Japanese place with free flow drinks for ladies if you spent at least $10 each (which was not difficult to hit AT ALL, one piece of squid tentacle sashimi there probably cost 2 bazillion dollars). We wound up spending about $30 each on really lacklustre food that was extremely misrepresented in the menu pictures, but we did get free flow drinks that made it worth. Well, maybe not so worth for me, because I had a grand total of about 5 glasses of umeshu and shochu. The umeshu was the hardest hitter; it’s easy on the throat and its sweetness masked the alcohol until it was…… too late, and I found myself puking all the udon and yakiniku and whatever nonsense I had eaten over the lawn in front of the MRT station.
  • I thought I would be okay after vomiting everything out and I could make my way home sanely. But it turns out I am the sort of person who can’t walk after 5 glasses of Japanese alcohol, so all I managed to do was to walk down to the MRT station, fumble around before forcing myself to sit down on the first solid surface I could find, hysterically trying to grab onto my friends to stay upright. Between the two of them, they somehow managed to chivvy me back up to the main road where I watched them try to get me an Uber/Grab, before I just figured to flag down the first cab that whizzed by, said vague goodbyes to them, and found myself homebound.
  • It was only on the cab that I realised they had actually called an Uber on my phone (which was arriving in 2 minutes), so that’s another cancellation I had to pay for.
  • Got home, managed to take out my contacts and tossed them onto my bedroom floor, tossed myself into bed and slept off the terrible throbbing in my head.
  • Woke up and I realised amidst my drunken mess last night, I lost my cardholder and a bunch of cards in it. I called the MRT station, lodged a lost and found with the taxi company, but frankly I don’t have much hope.

I suppose I wasn’t completely wasted because I can still remember what happened last night, but damn, I got so buzzed, it was painful. I distinctly recall one point in the night when I wondered how I was going to get myself home – but I still managed to. I always manage to.



Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more pathetic than I actually am, something happened this afternoon. I bumped into a groupmate in the toilet after our meeting ended and in an attempt to make small talk while we washed hands she asked me if I was heading home after the meeting. Now I had previously heard that she had plans to go out after the meeting and not wanting to appear like the lifeless buffoon that I actually am, I said “Oh no, I’m meeting someone!” Which technically wasn’t a lie; I did meet the cashier at the yakitori takeout stall I stopped by on my way home.

But I’m trying to be a little more positive about myself these days, so I decided to list out some of the good things I managed to achieve:

✓ Sent Prof M an outline of my research paper (although he has replied and I really should follow up on his feedback)

✓ Went down to the school library yesterday afternoon to look through those books I was originally lazy to bother with. Thank Lord I did, because one of them had some really good pointers we could use

✓ Temporarily lost my cardholder (and my cards that were in it) but managed to tide through the crisis without having a big meltdown; and thankfully someone returned it to me

So, that’s pretty good.


the lives of others

Thinking about things

An often unadvertised side effect of law school is the feeling of inadequacy. Everyone knows it’s difficult, it’s a heck load of reading, but no one really told you you will wind up feeling shitty about yourself and extremely jealous of others. It’s a bit of a vicious cycle where the academic plankton of the cohort feels the strain and burden of scrapping passes in order to qualify for the bar (passing it is a different story entirely), the average student fears he should be doing more to catch up with his more illustrious peers, and the cream of the crop wondering if giving up all the other things in life was really worth it for those A grades. Rinse, repeat.

Yesterday, my professor invited a trio of lawyers to come speak to us in class on some issues pertaining to corporate crime prosecution. What struck me wasn’t so much the content (which was fascinating, but not the point of this post), but the profiles of those lawyers. Not just them, but all the other lawyers I’ve met, be it at internships, talks, pervasive online stalking… they seemed, and probably actually are, disgustingly successful in their careers. Stellar education credentials only boosted by years of impeccable lawyering work, they had all their shit together, gathered in fistfuls as they put bad people in jail, sought bajillions of monetary damages for their clients, et al. I shudder to think what inconspicuous contributions I can make to this world upon graduating next year.

Maybe you’re thinking I’m being melodramatic and harbouring illusions of grandeur by comparing my (only tentative, possibly non-existent, probably lacklustre, hopefully not disastrous) future legal career with these heavyweights. Maybe instead of the moon, I should be aiming for the stars. So I tried that, but it was even more depressing. I have schoolmates bringing home championship trophies like I bring home a McDonalds takeout. Schoolmates writing for academic journals. Schoolmates making it onto dean’s lists. And me? I forgot about the existence of my Chinese Contract Law assignment until the day before its deadline. I’m a gigantic mess and I know it. It’s not helpful being so self-aware.

Then I get bitter and sad when I think about other things, such as how I could actually be in Mannheim, Germany exactly right now, instead of sitting in this study room trying to hunt for a legal principle on copyright subsistence that does not, for the love of God, seem to exist. Then I get angry at myself for letting my brain wander off that far into the abyss when I have so, so many other things to be worried about. Like this research point that I can’t seem to address properly. Or my second learning journal for the creative thinking module I’m taking, that’s due end of this week. It’s Thursday already. Oh dear.

Sunday School

Scattered thoughts

Is there anything quite as depressing as making a snap decision at 10am on a Sunday morning to head down to school so that you can get more things done?

Also my Sunday studying aesthetic is: drinking a toddler’s head volume of cold brew (venti – I live on black coffee like I live on water now), discovering Khalid’s album (American Teen, so, so good), writing 300 words of my leadership reflection essay for my leadership module, realising I still have another 1200 words to write but simply running out of bullshit to spew, downloading a few cases that need to be read for class tomorrow, looking up the lyrics to Saved, getting emotional over songs about heartbreak despite not really knowing what heartbreak is, inter alia.

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I also dissociated for the longest time, staring at the chair directly opposite me (see picture 1). There is a patch of off-white paint on the wall behind it that you don’t really realise is there until you stare unnecessarily. And after you see it, you can’t help but get drawn back to it every time you look up from your laptop.

Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world



There might not be a better way to spend a Friday night than to plop on the bed and watch a melodramatic black and white film. My back hurts a little because my laptop was not angled right, and my body meandered into several different uncomfortable positions that eventually just strained both my neck and my eyes. But I did it, I finally watched Casablanca.

I dived into this film with zero prior knowledge of the plot or characters. I vaguely knew that some romance was involved, but for some reason I expected it to be a film noir – and I suppose it could be argued as so, if you find the concept of romance fatalistic – but no, it was just a typical romantic story with beautiful people, with beautiful music, and of course with a Beautiful Grand Romantic Gesture at the end that leaves the audience with mere wistfulness of what could have been.

Casablanca is a classic, and I can see why it is so. The plot was simple yet charming, so was the dialogue, and the acting was chockfull of grace and finesse.

And yes, there are so many quotes that manifested out of this film (which I never knew so it was a serendipitous discovery when I heard We’ll always have Paris, et al), but this exchange is hands down, my favourite:

Yvonne: Where were you last night?
Rick: That’s so long ago, I don’t remember.
Yvonne: Will I see you tonight?
Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.

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