Author: gwynethtyt

hyperoptimiser

meta on oversharing, #2

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For the first time in a while, I had second thoughts about the oversharing I perform online.

I have always considered the potential consequences of doing so. I have also decided that they are insignificant in the grander scheme of things (what is a thought worth if never acted upon?).

What makes this second-guessing border on the absurd is that my main subject is my feelings. If people think they can weaponise my experiences against me, they are a fool at best and deranged at worst. I am my biggest critic; there’s nothing new they could possibly bring to the table. Attempting to police self-expression only highlights the complainant’s insecurities and prejudices. That’s why shit-stirrers without substance are usually anonymous — if they had conviction in their opinions, they wouldn’t be in hiding like the cowards they are.

But let’s move on to the other and more exciting kind of disclosure: the tell-alls, where I write about specific others. By the way: those get the most views, so what does that tell you about human nature?

My observations of people tell me that being deconstructed and revealed to others feels like punishment to many. There’s a curious feeling that rises in one’s stomach when they realise they’re the subject of someone else’s reports. It’s never fun to be written about negatively, and I take accountability for my words, so I do my best to avoid character attacks. I interpret what I observe and let my readers come to their own conclusions; that’s what keeps it fun. (Are you a disappointment? I don’t determine that; my audience does.)

I did backtrack once when I wrote a post about somebody whom I really cared for, even though I said nothing bad about them. I realised I didn’t want to subject them to scrutiny in the same way that I do to myself. So, if you’re a loved one who has wondered why I haven’t written about you, please know that I haven’t precisely because I care about you.

I will only ever explicitly write about people (typically men; I wonder why) that I do not care to keep in my life. I do think of it as a little punishment, maybe (FAFO for short). Even then, I keep their identity semi-anonymous out of basic decency: I have principles, you know. To reveal and be revealed is cathartic for me, though. Thus we have this blog — the product of all of these preferences. So, ironically, I have to credit the least deserving people for inspiring my work.

(To my future lover: if you’re reading this and you’re intimidated, don’t be. Again, inverting FAFO, you won’t be punished if you don’t mess around in the first place.)

It’s all fun and games in the end. If you don’t care, fine — you won’t be missed, and now I’ve made another pretty piece of art. If you care — enjoy the feeling while it lasts! If you love it, even better — it’d excite me further. If you want to retaliate, you’re welcome to do so — I told you, I love the thrill. One question that sets us apart, though: can you handle the consequences?

But okay, that’s enough meta for today. (I should really get a new hobby.)

somnolence

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i could never fall asleep easily around them.

one time i stared wide-eyed at the ceiling through midnight until his alarm rang. when i studied him, basking in the warmth of the golden hour, he seemed to be having a pleasant dream: maybe life was sweeter for him there. back in reality, all that was left for me to do was envy him.

i think that one sleeps soundly when there’s nothing to worry about.

another time we stayed up until it was warm; i was talking at him throughout, at a pace so frenetic it was as if i already knew that we would never see each other again. i couldn’t sleep, even with the additional melatonin in my blood. i did have a lot i wanted to share, but now i wonder if it was also because i didn’t feel comfortable enough to let the silence settle in between us. it adds up, because i can no longer remember what we said, only what was left unsaid.

as someone who’s had insomnia all her life, falling asleep easily is a blessing. a perfect descent is like wading into a warm ocean with the scent of home around you. deceptively light at first, a heaviness weighs you down until you realise you’re sinking to the point of no return: it conquers you whether you embrace or resist it. but it’s easier to let go with someone — if you trust that they’ll eventually pull you back to the surface to breathe again.

maybe they knew, maybe they didn’t — either way, i don’t think they cared.

i’ve joined them now. these days, i burrow into my blanket and hug my bolster tight. for sure, doing so can’t replicate the affections of a drowsy lover. but it is nice in its own way: nestled away in my cocoon, sometimes — just sometimes — i hear the sound of the waves and nothing else.

eden

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Don’t waste your time chasing butterflies. Mend your garden, and the butterflies will come.

Mario Quintana, Butterflies (translated from the original, “Borboletas”)

I feel I’ve grown a lot emotionally over the past six months. There might still be things I’m not ready to admit to myself — such as my irrational desire for a perfect partner who will ostensibly complete me — but I am also gradually realising that perhaps, just perhaps — I can be whole on my own after all.

I have embarked on so many projects this year that the younger me could hardly have imagined. Pilates princess, babygirl energy? Clarifying my boundaries, and letting go of people and things not contributing to my growth? Living as my authentic self, unwilling to be stifled by others’ projections?

Isn’t this what I wanted all along? All of this seems unreal.

I’ll keep doing these and more because I want to — not because anyone else has told me to, or because someone or society said it’s good for me. It’s good for me because I decided it is, and so it shall be.

I am tending to my garden; I will keep tending to it, rain or shine. The butterflies will come, not because I called out to them, but only because they find it a beautiful place to be.

They may be fickle; they may not stay.

And that’s okay; in the meantime — as we were meant to — we can play.

good girls, good boys

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someone told me, point-blank, that he wouldn’t date me because i was out of his league. he might have been lying, but i believe him; he had no reason to lie, and there’s no point ruminating over the reasons behind an immutable outcome.

still, it was a bizarre statement.

i was right there before him, asking if he wanted to be with me.

didn’t that mean that i thought he was good enough?

sure, i write about ELO scores and power asymmetry and all that. but in a moment like that, did he think such things mattered to me?

what does any of this matter as long as i love you?

but there he was, letting his demons get in the way, all the while looking at me but beyond me.

ah, so this is what it means when they say a relationship is a commitment. it is a commitment to work through your insecurities together — because you trust the other person to bring you through it.

i feel that rationality in the face of emotion is an illusion. if you can be rational when it comes to someone you’re head over heels for, you’re probably not as much in love as you think.

that’s how i knew they didn’t like me enough.

was it something about me? sometimes, i think they saw something in me that they decided they couldn’t handle. they didn’t trust me to stay. if i didn’t know any better, i would have thought that the problem has always been me — and yet it really isn’t, not at all.

that they chose not to stay breaks my heart, but it wasn’t about me. it wasn’t even ever about us.

it was always about them: what they wanted and felt they couldn’t want and didn’t deserve.

i can’t help but wistfully wonder if — or rather, how much — i would have loved his insecurities, or the insecurities of all the men i’ve loved. but much as i want to, their demons are not for me to address, and not even their eventual partners will be able to do so —

in the end, it’s a battle we have to confront alone.

gwynethtyt.com is 5!

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Oh my god!

Since the inception of this blog, I have written over 130 posts.

Here is a collection of my favourites, categorised by year, which I feel best captures her spirit.

2019: the big bang era
[26 posts]

11/6: hello, losers

  • The post that started it all. Reading this again makes me laugh because it demonstrates my point that people fundamentally don’t change. I mean, look at these iconic quotes from 2019 me:
    • “I enjoy oversharing about my life to the discomfort of others, though I should really know better. Either way, you’ll get my irrelevant opinions on all sorts of issues.”
    • “If you think I don’t have any [haters], you’d be surprised — I am so popular it pains me. I can’t even sin in good conscience anymore.”

3/8: my NTU URECA experience: a review

  • This post was the first example of what I would become most well-known for among my juniors — reviews and advice relating to my academic pursuits. And my wit, of course.

5/11: meta on oversharing

  • One of my purer self-expressions at the time related to the paradox of online authenticity — a recurring issue in my life. The dilemma in summary: being “real” online necessitates sharing negative experiences and potentially controversial opinions because that’s real life. However, doing so could lead to adverse consequences, mainly: (1) it might not be good for your reputation in a hypercurated online environment and (2) your disclosure could be weaponised against you.
    • (1) is more rooted in insecurity than anything else, but (2) is a real concern. Someone reported me to my superiors when I was a student leader because I allegedly made an inflammatory comment online.
    • The only thing I learned from that affair then, unfortunately for the instigator, is that some people have such uninteresting lives that they can only spend it attempting (and failing) to drag others down. But I’ll admit that the experience helped me learn to criticise in a way that convinces audiences while the targets can’t do jackshit to me. (-:
  • I only resolved the dilemma after going through therapy: now, I share whatever I want without concern for others’ opinions. The value that I create and the way I treat others is testament enough to my character. If you can’t see it, that’s on you and not me x

2020: the liberal feminist (ironic) era
[16 posts]

8/1: penis envy

  • Self-explanatory. Interesting in the sense that men do not only represent an outlet of emotional and sexual fulfilment for me (god, if only I could choose otherwise), but because the concept of manhood defined my psychic development as a woman. Freud would be proud.

12/3: my time at mcgill: a mid-term review

  • Went to McGill University in Montreal, Canada to expand liberal brain.

24/3: carte blanche

  • Still relevant. Will always be. My lover must understand this.

8/5: virgin crisis

  • A chauvinist triggered me to write this. The post is noteworthy because it demonstrated my propensity for conflict and polemics. I’m more selective with my battles now because I’m better able to distinguish what’s worth my time.
  • But my desire and ability to put men in their place will never die.
  • Trivia: named after a popular shoujo manga I read when I was younger.

14/8: reflections of a “student leader”

  • Babygirl does politics, and gets her way (you’re welcome to read and decide for yourself if I did).

2021: the pareto principle era
[11 posts]

1/6: gwyn’s guide to NTU psych modules (or: PSYCCESS)

  • This is the post I am most well-known for. I wrote it because it is what I would have wanted to read as a junior. The support I received motivated me to keep writing; it might be part of the reason I am still posting today.

22/12: gwyn reviews: the NTU counselling centre

  • This post marked a breakthrough for me because it was the first time I actively sought help for my depressive symptoms. It was formative in terms of my journey as a mental health advocate.
  • Trivia: did you guys know I got into trouble for this series (the mental health logs), because someone didn’t like what I said and reported it to someone with authority over me? I got away again, of course (see the pattern here?), because 1) I can and 2) people are delusional to think that they can police my non-political opinions in our fair and free society.

2022: the lowkey era
[8 posts]

28/6: geneva, a girl, and a reckoning

  • I went to Switzerland, Geneva, and got to meet my research idol. I will never forget my time there. Their melted cheese fondue was pretty good, too.

6/7: on sleeping (with) disorders

  • I have had a long troubled history of insomnia since I was an adolescent (it’s gotten a lot better in 2024, though). I paid doctors hundreds of dollars to confirm what I already knew. Speaking from experience: if you have a sleep issue, also get your mental health checked out — the two are inextricable from one another.

2023: the comeback era
[3 posts]

4/10: confessions of an ex-NTUSU exco

  • More political commentary. The feelings I experienced when I posted this and when I saw the response to it solidified my commitment to write until I die.

5/12: 25

  • To celebrate the end of my first quarter of life. Also to celebrate something I had neglected for a long time: myself.
@ominous_cloud_of_smoke / instagram

2024: the generative babygirl era
[60+ posts(!), so far]

26/2: discipline and punish

  • Marked another transformation where I realised I didn’t have to play by the rules anymore.

31/3: to my dearest

  • Tl;dr I realised my friends loved me immensely, perhaps more than any man ever loved me.

12/4: golden age

  • More thoughts on freedom following discipline and punish.

17/4: gwyn’s lay theory of relationships series

  • Being single and encountering a bunch of men made me have Many Thoughts about the nature of love, dating, and marriage. So where better to organise all these thoughts creatively than here?
  • I would like to thank the men who inspired me because, hell, I was compulsively putting out banger after banger LOL. Sublimation is real, and I have lived it.

10/5: how to counteract love bombers

  • Sums up my philosophy towards relationships: if they really wanted right, they would. I will accept nothing less.

16/5: the little things

  • I just like how soft this post is. I wrote it with the wind on my face and the rain pouring in the background.

1/6: the no man june logs

  • Embarked on this because I love self-improvement projects and gamifying my life. It’s not working out great because I clearly have impulsivity issues, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t having fun.

7/6: gwyn’s theory of interpersonal interest series

  • Another banger of a series (a little bit of disclosure: I was lovesick. I might still be. But I wouldn’t worry, because it’ll all work out in the end.)

That was a sweet trip down memory lane. Happy 5th birthday, my darling blog! I love you.

gwyn’s theory of interpersonal interest, #1.5 (an interrogation of desire)

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In this series: #1 | #1.5

This morning, I dreamt of one of them again.

We were at a chalet gathering, composed such that it seemed that I had organised a party on a whim merely to celebrate people important to me.

He stood out — of course he did — and when he made his entrance, my friends looked at him wryly, as if he was not one of us.

He was… insouciant, that’s the word. Nobody moved to accommodate him, yet he took his place in the middle of the circle as naturally as a king glides to his throne. I actively continued flittering in social butterfly mode, but I couldn’t help sneaking a look at him occasionally.

I might have kept looking in his direction because I was hoping there would be a moment when he would be looking back, having been waiting all this time to ensnare me.

All it would have taken was a single moment, a single intention, and a single action.

But it didn’t matter because I was his from the start, and I knew that he knew it.

Inevitably, he turned his attention to me as the night went on; perhaps that was his purpose all along as a character in my story. He was flirtatious to a fault, his manner careless; he acted like he wanted more, but he was a bad actor — all his declarations rang empty.

In spite of it all, I was getting carried away — until I caught myself, whereupon the dream ended.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of my dream, I realised that I had portrayed him in a unidimensional manner. That wasn’t necessarily on me: after all, I could only work with what he had decided to show me in the limited time we had together.

I am inclined to believe that he, like everyone else, is a complex creature. Our circles are deeply interconnected, much as I’d prefer otherwise (a drawback of sourcing your prospects from outside dating apps — it gets complicated). And when your circles overlap, you hear stories. When you hear stories, you come to conclusions.

My conclusion was that there was a lot more under his surface worth uncovering, even as his flaws seemed destined to prevent me from doing so.

But might I be being too kind to him to assume that he was more than what he seemed? His appeal was precisely his inaccessibility — he was a blank canvas on which I could project whatever I wanted.

I’ll admit that writing this post is an admission of desire — an example not accounted for in my theory of interpersonal interest. So, it is worth adding the caveat because I understand only now: to be interested in someone does not mean you ultimately want them in your life.

No matter how many dreams I have or how many love letters I write to you.

And yet — simply because we were not meant to be doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.

Or, at least, whatever I knew of you.

李克勤 – 藍月亮 / hacken lee – blue moon

excerpts, #8

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everyone forms opinions about others; social cognition is as natural as breathing.

yet what i’ve learned about human nature is that we overweigh evidence available to us and underweigh evidence not available to us.

that’s reasonable; how can you make sense of what is not known to you?

but this is all much ado about nothing — my conclusion stands.

i do not need to be explained or understood; what i need is to be accepted as i am.