Inertia 2.0

I’m struggling to find closure that this life is about to end and that a new one sits on the near horizon. Comfort has a way with shaping one’s behaviour and one’s desire to change. 

I am never adventurous. Yet, I try anyway because I know experience shapes perception, and perception moulds opinions. And I want to be wise. But fear stains and sticks, so no matter how much I tell myself it’s going to be ok, there will always be a voice hounding at the back of my head.

I’m not ready. I never am. At least, I tell myself not yet. 


The Thoughts on the Train – 22 Oct 17

Today, I woke with a slight headache. I have been getting little sleep lately; I blame it on insomnia. It’s becoming unbecoming of me to lay in bed with eyes wide open in the wee hours of the morning. If you want to know the time, it’s 4am. I know, if I don’t do something the weariness will stay. 

They say a habit forms after 21 days of constantly doing it. So, I vowed to read for the next 21 days. I have a list of books to complete and have just started on my first – The Time Traveller’ s Wife. The book’s interesting, but horribly slow. I guess it will take a while. 

I am on my way to work. I wait (part time) for a living. The smokehouse I work at is tucked somwhere in a little district at Lavender. It’s a nice place with nice people. I like it there. 

I work on weekends, which can be really crowded. It’s sometimes manageable, sometimes not. But I’d manage regardless. 

Today, I work alone for lunch. My partner had just reported sick, which means I am late for work. Great.


Left internship for a slower pace in life and got a job two jobs that pay.

The magazine had been terminated, my entry unpublished, unread and archived. 

Dua Lipa has been my muse. 

Meryl Streep is still my spirit animal. 

Murakami, still as depressing as ever, remains my favourite. 

Penang was tiring, but wholly fulfilling. 

Japan was nice, but better alone.  

I’m moving on. 

I’m moving on. 

I’m moving on. 


You know it’s late at night, almost into the wee hours of the morning, weird thoughts start seeping into your head and you cannot sleep. You lay in bed, lights dimmed, eyes shut, but life flickers in that darkness underneath those eyelids. 

Some, like myself, call this an existential crisis. I hate it when this happens. 


I haven’t been posting stuff recently.

I apologise for that.

I have nothing much to share thus far.

A little update about the thing I did recently.

Watched “The Intern”

– Loved the concept of it.

Starting saving up.

– A very horribly slow process

Started reading again.

Here’s a list:

  1. Lord Edgware dies by Agatha Christie
  2. Hercule Poirot’s Christmas by Agatha Christie
  3. Sad cypress by Agatha Christie
  4. The Power of Negative Emotions by Todd Kashdan & Biswas-Diener
  5. The New IQ by Tracy and Ross Alloway

Is Artistry a Selective Talent?

JGlover Art

With most things in life that people are good at, all too often the hard work, commitment and training of the individuals are brushed off simply as “talent”. With that in mind, I got to wondering if this natural aptitude or skill truly is the case, or is a person’s proficiency in something the result of an intense commitment to their particular craft?

I’m thinking in artistic terms for this particular insight, but following another trail of thoughts on the same topic (which is a very broad ranging topic); would any of the world’s most renowned thinkers and men of science amounted to anything had they had no former education? Can a boxer win the heavyweight without any training just because he was “born to be a boxer”? I personally don’t think that could ever be the case and helps to form my argument that “talent” is the result of…

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