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Tumblr: “I finally get it”

I finally understand what they mean when they say “spend money on experiences, not material things.”

I finally get it. I finally get what they mean by momentary, perishable material things. I finally get what they mean by moments, experiences, memories that will last a lifetime.

There was this boy and his mother sitting next to me. They were sharing a really tantalising chocolate cake. Aside from the temptation I received due to my not being able to eat such a cake, I realised something far, far greater. It made me realise the true meaning of spending money on experiences, not things.

I had a very poignant epiphany with a very heartwarming imagination.

Let’s say that I spent my money, going to Lady M and ordering a very expensive crepe cake that I would then share with my mother. We would then bond over this delicious crepe cake in a very wonderful and luxurious atmosphere, it would be a very warm and sincere experience that would’ve translated into a memory that I would forever cherish from then on.

It would mean that my money was spent on an experience that I would cherish for a lifetime instead of material goods that would certainly perish in a breath of time, certainly money spent wisely.

I finally understand what they mean by spending money on experiences, not things.

Tumblr: “Why It Is”

The other day, after months of renovation, preparation and anticipation, Dover Street Market Singapore finally opened their first outlet in the region at Dempsey Hill. The event, of course, was like any other hyped event. It attracted a slew of people in the streetwear culture and was definitely quite a monumental event in terms of streetwear culture here in Singapore because it meant that one of the major streetwear retailers made the decision to have their own brick-and-mortar store here in Singapore, effectively putting Singapore on the global streetwear map.

The usual process ensued, dozens of people from all sorts of cultures, united under the name of streetwear, came to be part of the event, the opening of Dover Street Market Singapore. There were to be limited releases as well which was one of the reasons why people came for the opening. I anticipated experiencing the usual process, queueing, seeing all sorts of people flexing all sorts of hyped cops of theirs, media coverage of the event and best of all, of course, getting a chance at copping some of the rare and hyped items that were going to be released.

Then it hit me. I had always been questioning myself why I was into this sort of thing, why I got into the whole streetwear culture. Some say it is the want, the desire to define yourself outside of the conventional society, flexing limited pieces that others don’t have and finding identity through what you had managed to get, sure, it could be that. Some say it was the overwhelming feeling of reward, being able to cop rare pieces, shoes and such and show them off to those who don’t have it, maybe it could be that. Some even say it could even be the money, the possibility of buying a limited release for a mere $200 and selling it for more than five times worth that, raking in profits without even having to get out of your comfy desk chair, hell, even I can at admit that it could be that.

The thing is, the problem, with all of that, was that it struck me as a very materialistic view, all of it had to do with reaping happiness from a form of materialism, whether it was from limited items to the money earned from them. I was really confused, why do I continue striving for something that only brings about happiness through materialistic gains? Yet somehow, it still felt so right to be a part of it. I tried to find out what it was. Initially, I thought it was the problem with how people define materialism, that maybe materialism wasn’t actually a problem and I tried to find out why materialism is regarded so distastefully, but that lead to nowhere. I came across an article one day that said that materialism isn’t a problem but only when you spend money on experiences. I had a deeper understanding of this back when I posted about the story of the mother and her child sharing a cake awhile back but I didn’t think to apply this anywhere else.

Then came that day, that day when I was ready to go queue up for the grand opening of Dover Street Market Singapore. People always ask “why waste your time?”, “why would you spend so much of your time queueing up just to spend money on overpriced things?” and then I realised why. It wasn’t about the things, it wasn’t about the money, it was about the stories that arise from it, it was about the grand experience that came along.

When I spend hours on hours queueing up for a hyped release, sure I may be going in with the goal of purchasing and maybe even reselling that hyped piece. And sure, there is a price tag to that, and there are profits to be made. But the experience, the stories that I earn from it are priceless. I end up meeting new people with whole stories about why they are wearing what they are wearing, how they managed to cop what they copped. People from all walks of life, mind the cliche. Each item that I own, carries a whole story and experience that I get to share with other people who have their own stories and experiences as well. It isn’t about the item, but what the item represents. I realised there and then that this is why I appreciate this culture because that’s just what it is, a whole other culture and the experiences that go with it are the reason why I will be a part of it.

Tumblr: “Resolve”

“Emotional Dependency” – So I recently came across this term after a shipwreck of a week and a shit load of talking it out with a lot of people as well as reflecting and soul-searching and I think I have finally isolated the root of my problems. Funny thing is I just googled this word as it popped up out of nowhere in my head and the articles that turned up were so perfect, it was like complete destiny or something ethereal. Basically emotional dependency is something that could be confused with love, however, it is the complete flip side of what love is supposed to be. This deals with falling in love from within your wounded self, from your insecure side, you begin to depend on the person to feel better about yourself. However, it isn’t love, no, instead it’s about how that person loves you. Because you cannot love yourself, you begin to depend on this person to love you, to care for you like you couldn’t, you give them the responsibility of your self-worth and happiness and the problem with that is threefold:

1. It simply isn’t genuine. The feeling that you have is the feeling of neediness and desperation, you don’t love the person for who she is and who she will be, you only love the fact that she was there to care for you and to fill the emptiness within you.

2. It will not work out. Whatever joy you may feel when the person helps you up will not be long-lasting because before you know it you find yourself needing that person to help you up again. The dependency is a vicious cycle and there will come a point in time when that person will be too exhausted from having to satisfy your needs and that’s when you will break down.

3. It sets up expectations that are unreasonable. When you build an emotional dependency on a person, you expect that to be there for you always, you expect them to be the one to redeem your self-worth, you make it their job to cheer you up and the issue with that is that it is not only unreasonable but also that you will never be able to find real happiness within yourself. If the relationship is predicated on one person’s unreasonable need for the other person to be there always then it cannot work out. That person cannot be there for you all the time and you will start to develop a neediness that is completely unreasonable and selfish in nature. What’s even worse is that you will start to develop ugly sentiments like jealousy and possessiveness.

Talking to so many people this week and reflecting so much on who I am and what I am doing has made me come to the grandest epiphanic revelations of my life. My happiness is my own responsibility, my own choice. Struggling with whatever shit that comes my way doesn’t have to get me down. It’s up to me whether or not I want to stay happy. It took me so much to get to this point, to realise this but the part that is blissfully surprising is that it all started with her. I used to wonder why I had to meet her and go through the hell that I did but now I finally realise that it’s because of her that I am now able to change for the better. It is because of her that I’m working my way to happiness, that my life can finally turn back around and in a way I never expected. When I finally started thinking clearly again, I realised I needed to apologise to her for being selfish, for being needy, for dragging her into the mess that is my life and expecting her to be the one to fix it. All this time I had been emotionally dependent, always wanting that someone to take in all the shit in my mind, to be there 24/7, to love me like how I couldn’t but I realise how selfish and unreasonable that is and that I need to love myself, I need to be there for myself. I am not going to rely on anyone else anymore to find joy and happiness. I am going to be happy with myself and that is my choice. The path back to positivity is finally clear and I’m so excited to get there after 8 long years. This is really a breakthrough, to finally see the light.

“Don’t worry, be happy” – Bobby McFerrin

Tumblr: “Nap”

So I fell asleep while watching Halo cutscenes after finishing my dinner. The dream that followed had quite an impact on me.

So it began with me and my family as we had just moved into a new inverted ladder-shaped house (idk if that’s what you call it I have a hard time coming up with words to explain it) in the East that has like 16 entrances to it. Basically, that part of the dream was about my family getting burgled because we had a hard time locking 16 freakin’ doors every night. Quite weird but wasn’t what got to me.

The part that really messed me up was this. So after that I semi-woke up and went back to sleep so the dream shifted and now I’m basically at this bookstore, you know the kind where it’s like really cute and fascinating because there is like so many cool books and interactive areas it’s just so fun. While I was browsing, I happened to glance upon this girl (not fkin her if that’s what yr thinking smh) who had this look to her. A look that brought warmth to my insides (yes even in a dream I still felt this lmao), a look that wasn’t cute or sexy but just incredibly pretty. The dream gets a little foggy here but all I remember was talking to her and getting really happy because of it. Then for some reason, I became the girl and I realised how shy my male self was being (HAHA) and then the WEIRDEST part was that my parents realised that I was talking to a girl and they were all like giving me weird faces and trying to help me out and shit that was just cringe-inducing.

I woke up with the weirdest feeling ever. I felt, for lack of a better and more precise word, different. Different because of how I remembered how I felt when I was talking to the dream girl, the difference in it is that I never felt that way when I was talking to her, that I had forgotten that feeling and that it was comforting more than anything. Instead of forcing for something that wouldn’t work or could never happen, I just swallowed my pride and hoped for it to work out and it did. The difference in it being was that I felt okay with who I was and everything around me, a feeling I had forgotten after so long. It’s taught me that I need to stop chasing things out of the desperate need for compassion because it can’t be forced. It’s hard to be reassured in this world because it’s a selfish world out there but this is one of the only times where I feel reassured. I’ll get mine someday and when I do I’ll be the happiest man in the world and I’ll be thankful for every moment that has occurred before, happy or sad because they are the ones that led me to it. I just cannot believe how strongly I believe in it. Back to reality.

Tumblr: “Epiphany”

When my mind starts to fall asunder, I cannot help but observe.

I suddenly become aware of the strangers passing by me, the countless stories and sufferings each and every one of them carries, for whatever reason that may have caused them to cross my path, I cannot even begin to imagine the vast complexity of their very existence written with an infinite epoch of experiences, All that I am left to do is silently appreciate the beauty that is their being and existence. The cheesy tourist that is in utter awe at every sight that presents itself to him, perhaps because he has worked and saved all his life to come here and appreciates all that we overlook. The mother that struggles with her two daughters and is in complete disarray yet loves them more than she ever thought she could love anything and would trade everything that she has and ever had just to see them smile. The boy that sits alone on the park bench and doesn’t seem to be fazed by any event that surrounds him because he is fighting a harder battle inside. I just sit and observe, it doesn’t have to speak volumes because there is so much beauty in the subtleties that we constantly overlook.

I suddenly become aware of the structures that envelop me, the stories that span from hundreds of years back to maybe even yesterday, stories etched within them, each so complex and so detailed. A leaf that fell on the ground, the leaf of a tree that has been there since before I came into this world and has witnessed more than I can never will. A groove in the wall caused by too much rain and an architectural inconsistency due to the architect losing his children in an unrelenting divorce at the time. A crack in the pavement caused by the irremovable mark of an individual who chose to jump instead of bearing any more pain. Nothing is without a story, no matter how insignificant, and to slowly be able to see and realise all of its beauty has a calming effect on my heart.

I suddenly become aware of the sheer size of this universe and how insignificant myself my worries, my fears are compared to it, the feebleness of my existence in relation to it’s grand and unending beauty. To know that we are nothing more than an inconceivable speck, drifting about, trying to find meaning in the meaningless, trying to find purpose in the purposeless, but that is not cruel or saddening, it is peaceful and calming, to know that we are capable of so much hope. But nothing is more wonderful than knowing that we are but observers, whose actions make less than an imperceivable impact on this vast and infinitesimal universe, all we have to do is sit back and enjoy. Enjoy the cosmos in all its glory.

And then I begin to tear, not because I am saddened but instead I am overwhelmed with serenity and joy in knowing that I have been allowed to be part of such a magnificent universe.

Maybe I will never achieve my hopes and dreams, maybe I will never truly be satisfied. But knowing and realising all of this here, I know that I will be able to find peace.

I foresee this as something that could potentially guide me through the rest of my life. It is strangely calming to think about how small I really am and all my worries are compared to the natural order of things.