’25 resolutions + review: the Year of Recursion

The solution to the problem of living is found in solving the problems of everyday living.

me, making stuff up

Some events in 2025 that make for good stories

  • Graduated!
  • Stopped posting on Instagram. The decision is boring… the LORE is not.
    • I did so for a bunch of uninspiring reasons. One may be mildly interesting: I realised I possessed a decent (if in desperate need of preservation) degree of sexual appeal that could be better directed elsewhere.
    • Doing so set me up for a huge dopamine hit. Later in the year, a close friend shared — hold on tight to the following — that her friend had asked about me, telling her what they heard about me from someone else… who had heard about me from someone else (II).
      • …I mean, what a thrill. Almost as satisfying as getting 500 views on a single story!
      • Cooley articulated it best: a person’s self-image depends on how they imagine others view them(self). So what happens when you deny onlookers an open window into your life? You become a figment of their imagination.
    • My withholding information is still an attempt to curate an image (performance is inescapable). But it’s an image that leaves the audience free to create their own story about me. And within these spaces of doubt, I am free.
    • In short: everyone can say anything about me. You just won’t hear about me from me…
      • …but you can always come here for the tea.
  • Sailed on a private yacht. Just once. Not mine.
  • Got served papers. To no avail, unfortunately… for them.
  • Received a Belated “apology” text. There’s only one thing I can’t believe about this saga and that is how accurate I was. I am a PSYCHIC bro. The feeling is INDESCRIBABLE.
  • Made a few friends, lost more. Decided it was okay. Kept some close.
events got me feelin like this ngl

Onto the goal review…


Originally published 11/4/25

These are not very SMART goals but I downloaded a habit tracker on Notion so I think it will be OK

Body gonna body babyyyy

Partial complete

  • Finish 47 pilates classes (very specific) [review comment: completed 35]

Did not do

  • Bulk and cut (4 and 4 weeks?)
    • Get to BFT 2x a week
  • New piercing? Huhu… where indeed…
  • More hee hee ha ha tattoos that I should really plan ahead for
    • the struggle [I actually got as far as paying a deposit. But the artist only sent me the design literally FOUR (4) hours before the tattoo session (despite my earlier prompting). And it was ugly — like throw the baby out, man, ‘cuz this is iredeemable. I asked for a Sisyphus tattoo, not to be punished like him]
    • luigi (cf above: the duality of woman)

Exercises I didn’t aim for but completed

  • 20 runs tracked
  • Got a Minotaur tattoo instead

Category comment: This is NOT a good category (judging my past self already). It is all over the place. But I give myself a score of 60% for maintaining my activity level from last year through trying new forms of exercise, as above, so below

Hobbies to convince others I have a personality

  • Complete a basic structured dance class [make that two]
  • Get noob diving cert
  • Get a tarot card reading [so accurate, like… i think it told me i am a loser]

Did not do

  • Relearn swimming for diving
  • 200k on blog!!!!!!!! [ehh. I wrote a lot of emo stuff instead that I didn’t publicise. Did you catch them? Because they’re GONE now! Hahahahahaha]
    • Reflections on grad school??????
    • Analyses on my ultimate life tracker??????
    • Purge blog, retag all posts, standardise categories/tags
  • Streaming
    • I want to play Lethal Company but everyone around me is a coward
  • Hit balls

Category comment: It is less important to convince others I am fun than it is to have fun on my own terms. Most importantly, however, is having enough money to afford the fun. Speaking of which,

Alternatives to being a kept woman

  • Secure employment
    • Apply for 50 (FIFTY) jobs
  • Long-term planning for finances (expenditure, investment %s…)

Category comment: Honestly, I’m better off being a kept woman

Love & Belongingness is a stage in the Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

  • Graduation + family photoshoot
  • Monumental
  • Masquerade as prey [hang awn… what if I am…]

Partial complete

  • Attend 10 random social gatherings [clocked 6]
  • Volunteer >25x this year [~15 times]

Maximising neuroplasticity

  • Pass JLPT N4 [the results won’t be announced until Jan 2026, but I know I confirm pass]
    • Duolingo 800 days [abandoned]

Partial complete

  • Crash course in stock market [got annihilated by perps, which is not even stocks, and have NO edge]
  • Read 15 books [made it to 5. Post-graduation de-intellectualisation is real]

Not done

  • Take a writing class!!!
  • Learn to braid hair, one, then two

Final comment: In 2025, I believe I stepped forward in the nebulous thing called life. I should have — and by all rights I did. All that to find myself where I began. I think I achieved some big things. But I feel I didn’t do many things at all, if anything. I’m not where I want to be and it makes me terribly unhappy. And yet I look around where I am and I’m happy. I’m desperate to be somewhere else and also desperate to hold onto the here and now.

I find myself hoping that the solution to life is found in the acts of everyday living, because it would imply that happiness can be found in these goals, or at least in the process of striving towards them… but even if that were true I doubt it would be a liberating knowledge.

The time will pass anyway.

to my orbiters

I have a complicated relationship with my orbiters. Their distinguishing feature is that they are men with whom I have been emotionally entangled, who watch my stories but who do not otherwise have any contact with me by their choice. They could DM or text me — I don’t block men I don’t care for — but they do not. I do not consider them friends. Maybe fans, or a little less, because placing them in the same category as my darling fans would be insulting to the latter. Either way, they are a special class of men because I pay much attention to them.

I maintain a level of detachment from them for the sake of my well-being but, nonetheless, am drawn to them like a moth to fire. I am endlessly fascinated by their behaviour as an object of study; I stay transfixed because they are like a puzzle whose pieces are constantly transmogrifying.

As we have clearly established, I love to read too much into human behaviour — it’s an occupational hazard. And I think orbiting behaviour is particularly revealing of desire due to its nature.

Orbiting in the form of story-watching behaviour is a two-way street, at least with insane girls like me. Again, men (and women) are deliberate in their actions. My friends say “maybe he’s just watching your stories because you pop up on his feed (because you post insane shit all the time)”, but are people really that simple? An orbiter does not accidentally watch your stories. They are orbiters because there are fixed patterns to their behaviour; they are there again and again like permanent fixtures. And given how confrontational I am, I know they know that I know they’re watching my stories. It’s like standing with your back to another person in a room of mirrors. You look up at yourself, and then at them, realising that they’re watching you too, even though both of you do not ever move.

This creates a relationship that is simultaneously parasocial and symbiotic. As much as I enjoy their presence, I think they, too, get a high from following my social media — because I feed them in return.

So let me feed you with this post.


Here’s the tall tale I spin in my head because I’m a crazy girl and I can think whatever I want (and I own it 100%!). You’re still here because you realise you messed up your only chance with me. Maybe it’s because you were in a bad place or not emotionally ready; you had not yet found yourself. That’s okay; it doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, you regret that you didn’t seize the chance when you had it.

And you don’t know what to do now, so you linger.

I am not sure what to say in response. You wanted something from me, and you took it, didn’t you? I gave you what you wanted, because I loved you, because I wanted you to be happy, even if the time we had together was so infinitesimal. But no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough for you then, and you made your decision then, split-second or not, calculated or not.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

I could block you but I won’t. Why? Because that would be giving you the easy way out. I’ll be frank: I don’t think you deserve that from me. And I love watching you suffer. Every single time you turn around for a second, third, fourth, fifth look, every single time you come back to me unprompted. The more you hurt me in the past, the more I’ll enjoy it.

Well, or so I thought. Huh? Like I said, I used to love playing games with silly cute boys. But in retrospect, I notice that there would inevitably come a tipping point where my objective ceased to be communicating my feelings for them in the hopes that they would reciprocate. All I wanted was to crush them.

I don’t know who or what to or why I was trying to prove myself, but here’s the thing — I always won, and crush them I did. One of the boys I was intent on breaking (because I felt that he had wronged me) eventually conceded through an apology. But when I saw his text, contrary to my glorious expectations, I didn’t feel a sense of victory. It was more like… ah, we’ve been through so much, haven’t we?

But… what was all of this for?


There was a brief period when I actively attempted to ignore my darling orbiters because I felt they were a waste of my time and emotional bandwidth. (Damn energy vampires.) However, I have since realised (perhaps in a post-hoc justification kind of way) that they were pivotal to my emotional growth.

Take Mr Temasek, for example (if you’re here, hi!!! Did it work out with your ex? Hahahahahaha). One encounter with him stands out; I think it will be all I remember of him in time.

We were seated, facing each other; he asked me what my biggest insecurity was (at that point).

And I was honest with him because I trusted him then: I told him, point blank, that I feared men only saw me for my (hot N sexy) body, even though I was so willing to love them.

For at least a second, I thought I recognized empathy in his pretty eyes — a moment of vulnerability I believed was worth revealing myself for.

And then he proceeded to precisely exploit that insecurity against me, haha.

Well (shrugs). We live and we learn. I was out of commission for a good two months or so thanks to his selfishness (and my weaknesses then; it takes two hands to clap). But he taught me an important emotional lesson, which later helped me find the one. Everything happens for a reason.


This is all much ado about nothing. Like OK sis, what is your point?

So here it is in the spirit of full disclosure. I like to pretend that I’m some harbinger of feminine rage, but surprise — despite everything, insanely, I want you to be happy. In the end, we’re all interconnected. Even if our paths will never cross again (I sure hope they don’t), they did at one point. I did love you.

I can be as delulu as I want, but in the end, I will never know why you’re still here. And I don’t intend to find out; that’s what keeps you endlessly fascinating. We always want the things we cannot have.

I liked to credit the men like the two examples above for being my muses. But I’ve been giving credit to the wrong people. I am like this today, and I could write all of this now, because I opted to learn from my mistakes instead of letting them break my spirit. I grew despite you, but also because of you. I would not be where I am today without you — for better or for worse.

And somehow, I choose better — without you.

You’ve served your purpose in my life. I hope I’ve served mine. So let’s part ways now, for your sake.

Listen to this — it’s the sound of how much I would’ve loved you.

And then let go.

But hey, if you do choose to stay, then watch, watch, watch me.

Because I’m going to dance.

the little things

  • a silly gift
  • minds in total sync
  • the moment before i fall asleep beside you
  • forehead and nose kisses
  • asking for nothing in return
  • a long hug, after a long time / the sound of your heartbeat
  • forgetting, being reminded, and always being forgiven
  • the gentleness of the rain, the wind on my face
  • a passing thought scrawled on post-it notes
  • dancing badly, singing off-key
  • lazy basking in the morning sun
  • hearing the belly laughter of my dearest
  • inside jokes, a knowing look
  • knowing i’m safe with you
  • knowing i’m unconditionally accepted
  • “i’m coming home soon — you want food?”
  • a whispered “good night”, a peck on the cheek
  • riding pillion after midnight
  • messing up my makeup, and accepting it
  • listening to my friends’ swashbuckling lore
  • aggressive, irrepressible journaling / blogging
  • “i read your blog recently”
  • books that make me think, poems that make me feel
  • candid photos of my friends that embarrass them (i’ll print them in time)
  • pictures in which we’re genuinely happy
  • warm showers and baths
  • the gentle lilt of my grandparents’ voices when giving me advice
  • our shoulders or limbs brushing against each other naturally
  • watching you sleep like a child
  • keeping a secret, just between you and me
  • the split second of vulnerability with a stranger
  • tracing the lines of your jaw with my thumb
  • combing your hair through my fingers
  • head pats, a smitten gaze
  • your scent
  • aimless walks, so we can be together a while longer
  • kindness — freely given, eagerly received
  • promises fulfilled
  • living like heaven doesn’t exist
  • realising everything will be alright
  • letting go
  • the inevitability of love

how to counteract love bombers

The spiritual sequel to How to Lovebomb. Obviously, written as a joke — or is it? (cocks head)

The Thingamajig Strategy (by love bomber):
(Accidentally) leave something smol behind at their place.

How/why it works (for the love bomber): A physical object reminds them of you. It creates an excuse to initiate contact, passing the responsibility to do so to them as in a delicate cha-cha routine.

Counterstrategy (for the lovebombed person): Throw the thing away — unless it’s a wallet. If so, retrieve the money and then throw it away. If they really needed it back, they’d ask. If they really wanted to see you again, they would initiate.

how you’ll sleep after getting rid of things that don’t spark you joy

The Casper Strategy:
Ghost them on chat but watch their stories obsessively. Don’t forget to like the stories where they’re super cute or you think allude to you.

How/why it works: Ghosting someone traps them in self-doubt preoccupied with what they did wrong, even though the problem stems from your inability to communicate like an adult. Kick them while they’re down by liking their stories on Instagram regularly, which bumps you to the top of the viewer list so they can’t ignore you even if they want to. It’s all power play, my friends, a perverse one once deconstructed.

(Effective for chronically online people who primarily rely on Instagram as a source of validation. But not effective for those who have a horde of fans to account to if they make questionable decisions.)

Counterstrategy: DON’T block them from watching your stories; no, enjoy the attention! DO block their stories from your feed, so you live in their mind collecting rent while you pay none. Then, go on to live your best life, whether you post about it online or not. Remember that YOU are the bourgeois and THEY are the proletariat.

this could be us but u ghosted me.

The Reincarnation Strategy:
Reappear in their life by DMing them out of nowhere after a prolonged period of presumed death.

This strategy has two variations, each inversely proportional to the confidence or sympathy you wish to leverage. (Neither matters.)

  • Confidence route: provide no accompanying reason at all: simply audaciously announce that you desire to see them again.
  • Sympathy route: supplement the request with an explanation that you have been through some trööma that regrettably caused you to be unable to, again, communicate beyond the level of a three-year-old.

Pick the first variant if you’re insecure and the second if you’re manipulative. This strategy creates a virtuous loop with the ghosting one. You meet, die, reincarnate, and then die again! It’s an absolutely infallible combo. I recommend it 10/10 for clowns.

How/why it works: It throws the recipient off-guard by making them wonder if you have been thinking of them all this while. If they’re so over their head that they forget that you could have contacted them any time in between but chose not to until it was convenient for you (because they are ultimately a substitute), it could seem kind of romantic. In a world where we convince ourselves we don’t owe each other anything, it’s easy to confuse any casual act for affection. Lover beware!

Counterstrategy: Laugh in their face and move on. If you give in, oh well — we all have to binge on fast food occasionally because what is life without sin and a little indiscretion, even if you get a stomachache later. Just don’t make it a habit.

this photo isn’t even thematically related anymore. it’s just funny

The Promising Strategy:
Make promises you have zero intentions of following through with.

Why/how it works: Empty promises lead to expectations, and the most powerful longing always concerns things that could have happened but never did. It’s inverted regret — a nostalgia for something that could’ve been, which could have been anything.

Counterstrategy: This one involves a radical change in your philosophy but will transform your life so drastically you’ll never look back. Hold on tight.

The principle: no intention is real until demonstrated in action.

There are NO exceptions to this. NONE. Intentions mean absolute jackshit until they are realised. Whatever form they take on before realisation does not matter. It might as well not exist. It never existed. (TIL I’m materialistic without the -ic.)

If they believed you were worth it (immaterial), they would show you (material). If they claim to miss you (immaterial), they will meet you (material).

We can go further. A text telling you they miss you means nothing if they do not schedule a date to see you again. A kiss means nothing if the relationship is never defined (a “situationship”) and you are not cuffed — made “material” through accountability to others or bound by a physical contract.

We can argue that a text and a kiss are material since they occur in reality. But that is irrelevant because it is overshadowed by the immaterial intention behind the action that we project onto those we so desperately wish would love us.

The intention means nothing, even if they imply it, especially if you infer it.

Realise that we can never accurately capture the meaning of the present moment — the full picture only emerges in hindsight when the future has happened so that we can contextualise the past with it. You can immerse yourself in the now and feel it all, but that still doesn’t imbue it with any meaning outside your feelings. For an intention to be real, it must be manifested.

The past, present, and future cannot be considered separately in determining what is real and meaningful. Hell, even if it was real, it might not have meant anything. Maybe this is the logic that my pragmatic fans follow — did you really love them if you were never serious about them?

Naturally, you could argue that an intention could be real and meaningful, just that the person seems to be acting differently because you are mistaken about their intention. For example, if you’re only interested in sex, you only do booty calls. That’s perfectly congruent and reasonable if both parties are on board.

But the whole reason games exist is that people struggle to be upfront with what they want — worse if they do not know what they actually want. Then, everyone is in for a ride, and all intentions can go to die.

We can only establish if someone is sincere about you through the two elements of continuity and consistency. In other words, action and commitment, over and over, like the sea waves crashing into the shore for eternity, until death do us part.

—you will find someone who will love you, who sees you as a person, who is attracted to you; who will choose you, and continuously choose you.

my bestie (if everyone had a love like this there would be no divorces)

In short, words are just words (suddenly, I realise what my love language is not). You telling me I’m your favourite or that you respect me means nothing. I don’t care. You either prove it, or none of it matters — saying it is just performativity. You don’t have to say anything; I already know.

Intentions alone mean nothing. Promises mean nothing.


Perhaps even this blog post has meant nothing. But I hope it is at least marginally useful for my fans in helping them sieve out people who deserve them and people who don’t. God willing, considering how much time I’ve wasted on playing games, I might as well help people save some of theirs.

Know your worth, and the rest will follow. Whatever you give, you will receive in turn, good and bad.

– x, baby g, who loves you always (and has hopefully demonstrated it)

Bonus:

we accept the love we think we deserve.

my other bestie (quoting the Perks of Being a Wallflower)

golden age

my friends joke that i’ve been “blitzed out” recently; i have tasted true freedom.

i’m privileged in that i’ve always had some degree of freedom in my life — where i’ve been, where i want to go, and where i’m going.

recently, though, i’ve experienced freedom so intensely that it gave me whiplash. the realisation came slowly, then all at once.

i can do whatever i want.

if i want to earn money, i’ll work. if i want a break, i’ll take it because my self-worth is no longer tied to work — it doesn’t matter what others think. if i want to get away from everything for a bit, i can leave whenever, i can go wherever. if i want something, all i have to do is reach for it.

i don’t need to want love; i already have it.

my darling yeye yapped to me earlier about how the “golden age” (黄金时代) in my life is now. he’s right, but i believe there’s more than one. in Civilization VI, the only game i have 500 hours on, we have golden ages; we have dark ages; we have heroic ages, when a dark age is followed by a golden age. they come in cycles… life may not be endlessly good, but it will never be endlessly bad either.

in another epoch i believed that i was the happiest i could ever be, and all i wanted was to hold on for as long as possible.

as i was happy then, i too am happy now. i guess i’m blitzed out in happiness.

i do not know if there is more — i secretly hope there is more, because there’s so much out there — but this moment is also enough.

geneva, a girl, and a reckoning

I’ve been at Geneva University in Switzerland this past week for a summer school course on cultural diversity. It’s been spectacular – highlights include learning from my research idols, yummy cheese fondue and French accents, on top of a time zone that respects my sleep-wake cycle. Unbelievable!

hijinks at a cheese fondue restaurant

But we all know our core memories are not made by knowledge — they’re created with people. Inspiring lectures aside, the event that defined this trip for me came over drinks with my classmates at a Mexican tapas bar. As the five of us self-disclosed, I quickly discovered that I was the least interesting person at the table, so I spoke less and listened more. (Instead of talking, I will brood and write more from now on. To all my readers, beware!)

The first surprise of the night was when one of us, a spunky, freckled PhD student from France, explained her decision to opt for a non-alcoholic drink – she was expecting.

She also happened to have a toddler at home.

What! I thought, mouth agape (subtly and respectfully).