Diary entry 21/8/25
It’s been a while since i last updated the diary. With the recent bullying saga blowing up on the internet, i guess it’s a good time to share an incident.
Bullying, comes in so many different forms, it’s not just restricted to verbal and physical. Sometimes it can take a more, sinister and , maybe you can say, invisible form.
This happened a few months ago with 2.
I didn’t throw a birthday party for her this year. She’s a bit sad, but she understood the rationale behind it, more or less i guess. I told her we could either spend the money on the party, or we save it for a holiday. Visit another country, experience another climate, immerse ourselves in another culture.
So no birthday party = no presents. Simple child math.
She has a good friend, i’m going to call her Apple. Despite there not ebing a party, Apple used her own savings, bought 2 a toy. It’s about $20. You can imagine how happy 2 was, that is the only present she received from her friends for her birthday. Her good friend no less.
She came home from school that day, first thing she did without even taking off her socks, she ran into my room.
2 : papa! i have a present from Apple!
She was so happy, that look on her face. It was priceless. Joy, in it’s purest form i tell you.
2 put down her bag, opened it and she could not wait to show me.
And i shit you not, i watch that change in body language and expression in real time.
It went from joy, to confusion, to horror, then anger.
It’s not there.
2 broke down, she started crying.
I told her to calm down, maybe she left it under her desk. Maybe she let it in school.
2 : no! i put it in my bag. i never take it out!
There was nothing i could do then, i told her to take a breather, calm down. go have a shower. She can go back to her class the next day and see if she, maybe dropped it somewhere.
The next day, she came home, she did not say a word about the present. I didn’t want to probe, i want to wait for her to tell me.
Another day gone by, nothing.
Soon, that week ended and i could not hold back my question anymore.
James: What happened to the present?
I could see 2 was trying to hold back her emotions, but it just came crashing down. That present was gone. She suspect someone took it from her bag during recess. She has a few culprits in mind, but no proof.
That’s not the worse part.
Apple asked if she liked her present, if she had played with it.
2 lied.
She lied that she played with it.
And it made her feel like shit, lying to a good friend.
But i can sort of understand why she did it. She was disappointed and angry at herself for losing the present, no reason to make Apple disappointed and angry as well.
However that is wrong.
I tried my best to explain to 2 that she needs to tell Apple about it. She can’t bring herself to, so she just kept crying.
In the end, i approached Apples’s parent directly and told them what happened. 2 is very sad but she don’t want Apple to feel bad about the situation either. And i made it very clear to Apple’s parents to please, not get a replacement.
Just like that, the case is closed.
The person who stole from 2, never got caught.
2 goes to school everyday, knowing someone in that school, stole from her. Teachers were not informed by the way. Maybe every few days, someone loses something. I don’t know.
What could i have done?
Should i go guns blazing, stomping into the office demanding justice for a missing toy?
Pile the teachers with more work?
2 asked if we can go to the police.
Honestly, this part of parenting, stumps me.
How?
I took a night to think about this and i guess the best way to handle this, was to turn it into a lesson of sort. There are just some things in life that are beyond our control.
We could hold on to that hatred, or we could move on.
No, it’s not right. The person who stole is wrong. Period. But i told 2, not to dwell on it. She should always look forward to life, and the many more beautiful memories she will have with her good friends and family.
It took a while but she did let go after a week or so.
Every now and then, something of hers will go missing. While i cannot discount the possibility of her misplacing them, i also had this feeling someone is out to get her. Sometimes her water bottle goes missing, before magically appearing the next day.
Like a bad period, it comes regularly. This mysterious bottle disappearance did not just happen to her, but other classmates too. Artwork damage, additional scribbles on paper, these things happen.
Bullying comes in a different form for 1.
She’s older, and the challenges she faces is a bit different.
1 is not part of the so call ‘popular and cool’ group in school.
Yes, looking back, we all want to be part of that group.
Now? hahha
Seriously i should not have given a fuck but hey, we were all young once. If we could think like we think now when we were 10, we’ve have been billionaires by now. haha.
Teaching 1 to understand there’s no need to be in any ‘popular’ group is a bit more challenging. Kids that age, who doesn’t want to be cool?
There’s a particular girl in that group, i shall call her Kiwi. Kiwi used to say hi, banter a bit with 1, and it made 1 so happy. Kiwi is very pretty, nice features, good complexion, one look, you can tell next time when she grows up, she will be swamped with attention.
Kiwi stopped talking to 1 recently, because she found 1 to be ‘boring’. She will deliberately ignore 1, and pretend not to know her when they walk right past each other. I must add they used to be rather close, going to the same student care and all, but well, things changed.
I have to teach her how to deal with situations like this. It’s easy to brush it off as an adult, but i know what that feels like. I was 11 once, and being brushed off by a friend in the popular group. That feeling suck.
I googled, i chat-gpted , and after consolidating all the guru’s reply, i decided that the best way forward, was to let 1 try and handle it herself first.
I shared with her my school days, talking about my friends back then, and what i did. Wrong, right, appropriate or not , i want her to draw her own conclusions.
1 is over that popular group thing now. She has her own group, aptly named ‘ the rejects’. And she laughs about it. It’s not a fake laugh, i could see she’s really happy with this group.
‘The rejects’, is the kind of people, i want 1, to hang out with. The kind of friends i hope she will grow up together with. No, not popular, not rich, no fancy shit, but just genuine and grounded.
Results? No, not top students or anything, just consistent. No big ups and down, just in the middle.
I could see some marked improvements in 1’s behaviour and results after she starts hanging out with this new group. Sometimes, they stay back together after school to finish their homework. Sometimes, they do their spelling and 听写 or 默写 together.
I’ve met them, seen them left video messages or photo bomb 1’s video message to me. Normal, sweet and simple kids.
Perhaps these examples are not as serious as death threats and physical beatings, but they are also bullying in other forms. They deserve attention too, does the school have the resources to deal with this? That’s another question altogether.
No one will want to teach if the teacher need to deal with every ‘ he/she don’t want to friend me’ situation.
These are just some of the things they shared with me, there may be more i don’t know. My stand to my girls are clear. We cannot control how others behave or what they do, but we don’t cross that line.
We walk straight, stand tall with our heads held high.
If i were to say it in ‘my language’ , i’ll rather we trash things out with fists, than to sneak about in the dark. I didn’t say it of course, because i knew my wife will trash it our with me first if such languages fly in the house.
Bullying in the 90s, hits different.
Especially when you come from a shit, neighbourhood school.
My secondary school. Haha.
Birthday? You get beaten up as a form of blessing.
And you are suppose to laugh it off, be cool about it, but let’s face it. Who likes to be beaten up?
Am i guilty of something like this? I am.
I beat friends up for their birthdays. I’m not proud of it, i joined in but i didn’t really used much force unless i hated that guy.
Which part of the MOE syllabus taught us beating friends up is blessing them? None.
Where did this shit come from?
Our peers of course. The people you mix with. So enough of the shit where every school is good school.
What are the odds of a minister’s son, or a MP’s daughter being ‘blessed’ in such a manner?
What if i had gone to another school where students were a lot more well behaved? We buy our friends a drink, we sing them a birthday song, instead of wacking them up?
I had my 1st cigarette when i was 14/15. Why? because my friends offered them to me, and it was cool, to smell of cancer causing 2nd smoke at that school i went to.
Dumb? Definitely.
I know it’s dumb now, but at that age?
Ok i think i went on long enough for this.
At the end of the day, kids will go through things we can’t always prevent. As parents, it’s tempting to want to shield them from every pain, every disappointment, every unfair moment. But if we step in too much, we rob them of the chance to learn, to struggle a little, and to grow stronger in the process. Our job isn’t to dictate every move they make, but to give them a safe space to figure things out, while making sure nothing goes too far.
They will stumble. They will fall flat on their face. They will lose things that matter to them. They will face rejection, betrayal, or moments where they feel invisible. And yes, it will hurt.
But that hurt doesn’t have to break them. If we guide them gently, let them fall but also help them back up, they’ll slowly learn to handle life on their own terms.
We can’t be here for them forever. One day, they will have to face this world on their own.
Everyone grows up differently, at their own pace, in their own time. Our role is to walk alongside them, not ahead of them.
I tell my girls, no matter what the world throws at them, whether it’s the sting of bullying or the quiet ache of being left out,they always have a place to come home to, where they are safe and loved.
I don’t look forward to they day they get into a relationship but i know that day will come. They will need to deal with heartbreaks, failed relationships and the whole list of challenges adults face.
By then, they may not even share as much with me.
I really hope they find someone who loves them, someone who they can spend the rest of their days with long after i’m gone.
Until then, my job is simple, be the steady hand they can reach for, the voice that reminds them i’m here for them.
The world will teach them lessons I cannot shield them from, but I can make sure they never walk through it alone.
I’ll walk beside them while they learn how to stand on their own.
For the site itself, i don’t have much updates. I’m trying to move a little more into romance / rom com type of stories, but with erotic scenes in them. I find it a rather good mix. Instead of pure erotica, or pure non-erotic romance, i find having a good balance brings out another side of the characters that will make the story telling richer.
Will try to update the diary more often in September when i wrap up the projects on hand.
August is a month of doing toilets for me. On track to finish 8 toilets this month. Had a bad choke in one too because the @#$@% worker from the contractor threw debris down. Things like this happen every now and then. Another home owner complained they caught the worker using his toilet to shit. They were there to clear defects, worker needed to go. Can’t possibly expect him to run to the nearest coffee shop right? but that champion also one kind, he could have used the common toilet, but he chose to use the master one.
Just some of the everyday nonsense i deal with. Rubbish yes, but they make for good materials for my stories.
Alright, shall stop the diary update here.
Stay safe all.
James S
Diary update 29/9/25
Have you ever had one of those sudden realisations that just smack you in the face,like a jolt that pulls you back to your senses in the middle of something ordinary?
Like when you’re taking a dump, then suddenly remember you left the water boiling on the stove.
Or when you’re already home but realise your barang still in the car.
Or worse,halfway to the airport, then jialat,you forgot something.
Not life or death situation, but still, the kind of thing that makes you go, “Wah lau eh, what the fuck was I thinking?”
It happens to me every now and then. But recently, one particular moment hit me harder than I expected.
Almost every morning, I walk my kids to school. A 15-minute stroll,zebra crossings, overhead bridge, small roads.
Routine.
Then a couple of mornings ago, out of nowhere, I felt like some higher being walked up, gave me one tight slap, then grabbed me by the shirt and shook me.
It was like waking up from a nightmare, heart suddenly racing, like kena whack awake by my wife when i called out my ex-gf’s name accidentally.
What caused it?
Silence.
We were walking quietly. No chatter, no nonsense about who gets to hold Papa’s hand, no excited stories. Just… walking.
Then bam,my brain spun like a kaleidoscope.
Because it used to be different.
The girls used to fight to hold my hand. Used to talk non-stop trying to tell me something. Now?
It’s just silence.
I looked at them and realised I was walking too fast, head still full of work stuff, emails, contracts, whether the missing plumber going to turn up at Tengah or Macpherson.
I felt like shit.
The girls caught up. My hands hovered near theirs, but they never reached out. They just kept walking.
And suddenly, this wave of sadness just blanket me.
The moment was gone.
The days of little hands clutching mine, gone. Just like that. Slipped past without me realising.
I used to take it for granted. Thought my girls would always look up at me, laughing, tugging at me, wanting to share everything.
I told myself, there’s still time, they’re still young.
But deep down, I knew it was a lie.
Adulting is hard. Parenting is harder. Doing both at once, wah, can drive you crazy. Some days you really understand why young people don’t want to start families.
As we reached the school gate, the path narrowed. Parents and kids funneled into a single stream, like a bottleneck where everyone must squeeze through.
When 2 first entered primary school, she used to clutch my hand right up to the last second. Now, she lets go first. At the gate, she gave me a quick hug, one second, then gone, already running to find her friend.
1 has always been more attached to me. Her hug lasted three seconds, like she meant it. Then she let go, eyes already scanning ahead. She even took a longer route just to wave at me again. Two seconds, then also same, gone.
Other parents peeled away straight after, heads down, glued to phones. Some lingered at the fence, hoping for that one last look back. Most never got it.
I didn’t go straight home. I sat at the bus stop for a while, processing.
Sibei drama mama, I know. But I needed it. Mid life uncle grieving over something so ordinary it hurts.
This is life in Singapore lah. Everything just passes before you notice. The world expects you to suck thumb, take it in stride. But some days it gets stuck in your throat, like a Panadol you never swallow properly.
Sending kids to school, or childcare, always comes with emotions. Ask any parent who had to put their child in infant care because both need to work.
That first day you hand over your baby—you never forget the cries, the screams. Heartbreaking is an understatement.
But this is Singapore. Unless you’re damn lucky to be earning a good keep, a single-income family can be challenging.
By the time I checked my watch, the bell already rang. The girls were inside, safe, already forgetting me for the day. I told myself this was good. Independence is the goal. I’m preparing them for a future where i will no longer be around.
But still, it felt like a small death.
Ten minutes later, the ache didn’t go away, but it shifted. My mind jumped to logistics, dinner, CCA pick-ups, site meetings.
Maybe later that night we’ll play a boardgame, or they’ll tell me some random detail about their day. I’ll cling to it, collecting crumbs to delay the drift.
By the time I reached home, routine had taken over again, laundry, dinner prep, messages.
The drama mama moment smoothed over by the grind.
The slap hurt. But life dulled it, like it always does.
So if you still have kids who cling to you—treasure it.
Really.
Those moments vanish faster than you realise.
No major updates regarding my writing. Things are moving a little slower than i like, but it’s moving. Have some interesting ideas and i hope to share them soon.
Can’t believe September is ending already. In a couple of months, there goes 2025.
Looking forward to release Grassroots(LL) once i’m done ironing out the kinks.
Stay safe all.
James S
Diary entry 18/10/25
Have dropped my very first audio book version this week. And after 24 hours, i have had exactly 0 sales. hahaha. It’s ok la, i’ve sort of grown used to this already. It’s experimental, i’ll see how it goes after a few stories. So far, i have 2 titles done with an audio book version. I plan to do maybe about 4-5, then see how it goes.
People listen to podcast and audio book in the car or maybe when taking a walk. Maybe erotic titles aren’t that suitable.
Market isn’t great, and i’m wrapping up the jobs on hand for my day job. So far, i have nothing lined up in November and December. It’s a bit worrying but there’s still 2 weeks to go before October ends. Have a couple of discussions going on, hopefully i can get at least one of the project going.
Grassroots (LL) is going to be longer than 10 chapters, have expanded it significantly, and chapter 4 will be released next week. i have 8 chapters done,and pace is going to pick up faster starting from chapter 9. That is the chapter i’m working on at the moment alongside other shorter works.
Celebrated my birthday recently and while it’s not some milestone year, it’s one i will remember fondly of. Birthdays are simple affairs for adults in my family. A cake, a song, a picture. Yey! Done.
In my younger days, it would mean drinks, party, and if i happen to be attached during that period, it would mean a lot of sex. First birthday with my wife, man, we could probably make an adult video with the amount of things we did that weekend. She splashed out a staycation package, white sheets, rose petals, champagne in the room. Things men do to trick gullible little girls, she did it to me, thereby tricking me to sign on the dotted line a few years later.
A decade later, she will grin and reveal that it was all a ploy. A ploy to trap a stupid man who thinks with his other head half of the time.
The birthday sex at hotel balcony, doorway, hanky panky stuff in public areas were all history now.
Almost every car has a camera now, so does every HDB estate. Doing stupid things outdoor now probably meant giving the internet a free show.
For my birthday this year, i was working. I would have gasped at this maybe 20 years ago, but it’s just a normal day. A normal weekday.
Woke up at 6am as usual, kids hugged me and wished me happy birthday. Wife did too, after she came out of the toilet, hands still wet. She wiped on my top, kissed me on my lip and gave me a tight hug.
Wife : Happy birthday!
James : I want to…
Wife : tsk! at night la!
James : orh…
The whirlwind preparation to start the day began. Got changed, walked the girls to school, and came back in time to see my wife heading to office. Freshly showered, hair done, bag and laptop in hand.
Wife : We’ll just get a cake at night when we go out eat ok? If we buy a whole one always cannot finish.
James: ok…i want to…
Wife : Tsk! Haiya! at night la…
James: orh…
Had 2 eggs, and it’s work time. Went out for a site meeting, met my partner, we went through some stuff over lunch. We shared half a roasted chicken + 2 soup and rice, his treat because it’s my birthday. Then it’s off to the dessert shop where we talked about projects over sesame paste.
The girls are back home when i got in at about 4pm.
I have a online call with a corporate client and i closed the room door.
An hour later, i saw 1 opening the door a crack just when i was wrapping up. 2’s head appeared as well. I gestured to them 5 minutes and they quickly shut the door.
When i opened the door around 5 ish, i could not believe what i saw.
A cake.
Not store bought, but baked, from scratch by my girls.
James : Oh my god…
2 : SURPRISE! hahaha
1: Happy birthday Papa!
It’s a simple banana cake, couple of ingredients, we’ve done it before together but i never expected them to do it on their own.
James: How did you all reach all the stuff? you all know how to use the oven meh? what about the measurements everything?
1 : Wah lau papa! you think we babies ah?
2: yah la. don’t play play ok…haha
They immediately went on a non-stop self bragging tirade of how they worked together, trying to be as quiet as they could. 2 complained that 1 kept bossing her around, making her climb up the kitchen counter to grab stuff from upper shelves.
I didn’t know what to say. I stood there, stupefied, with the cake in front of me, my daughters grinning like it was Christmas morning and they had caught Santa in the act.
I caught the faint whiff of something sugary in the air earlier, but I had ignored it during my call, assuming it was the neighbors again.
The elderly couple downstairs with their endless bakes of cakes and tarts.
My mind had been elsewhere,drawings, toilets, invoices, the next appointment, the rest of the day’s obligations.
A birthday in adulthood is usually a minor footnote in the calendar, a Facebook notification, a cursory text, maybe some generic well-wishes in a WhatsApp group. But here, in the middle of my own home, the two little people I love most had staged a coup on my assumptions and delivered, in their own way, a reminder that birthdays might still be worth celebrating.
I felt my heart seize up with a rush of emotions.
Shock, pride, the kind of tenderness that makes your chest hurt. It wasn’t the cake. It wasn’t even the surprise, not really. It was the evidence, there in the kitchen, that my daughters could collaborate, even if only for an hour, to achieve something together.
Such a fucking beautiful moment, and my unfortunate defective brain decides to conjur up morbid thoughts.
A sudden flash of mortality. I saw the two of them, grown, maybe in some distant future, navigating the world without me or their mother.
Would they be okay?
Would they look after each other?
The thought was both deeply unsettling and oddly soothing, and I hated myself a little for letting it intrude, for staining this perfect moment with the fingerprint of death.
But there it was, an uninvited guest at the party. My rational brain tried to shoo it away with a thousand tiny reassurances.
I’m only in my forties.
The girls are still small, still years from the thresholds that matter. And yet, when you’re a parent, the prospect of absence is always just behind the curtain. There’s a negative space shaping every act of love, every lesson, every warning and bedtime story.
It’s not the fear that you’ll die, it’s the knowledge that one day your children will be forced to live without you, and you want to leave them not just money or property or a decent education, but the habit of choosing each other, of working together, of surviving and thriving as a team, because end of the day, they are siblings. There’s decisions to be made together, important ones too. They see each other ever day, they squabble all the time but the day will come when they see each other only once or twice a month. I see my sibling only a couple of times a month, the same goes for my parents.
I blinked hard, trying to clear the moisture from my eyes before the girls noticed.I put an arm around both of them and pulled them in, crushing them to my torso in an awkward, lopsided hug.
James : Thank you…
I said, finally, the croak in my voice only barely under control.
James : This is the best surprise I’ve had in a long time.
2 beamed, pleased with herself, and 1 grinned in that way that makes you forget all the times she’s talked back or slammed her door in indignation. They started telling the story, tripping over each other’s sentences, how they started the complex operation, how 2 had to climb on a chair to reach the flour, how 1 argued about the right way to mash bananas, with a fork, 2 wanted to use her hands.
While they talked, I found my eyes drifting to the cake itself. It was, to put it generously, rustic. The top was slightly craggy, the crumb uneven, and there was a sunken patch in the center like an impact crater.
But it smells good, generously topped with ripe banana, and the kitchen smelled like a patisserie. I wondered how much of it was edible, and if i would get a tummy ache but I resolved to eat it all the same.
Wife came back slightly earlier, she left from a client’s place instead of going back to office.
The girls wanted to cut the cake before dinner, so we did. I took a knife and made the ceremonial first slice. We each had a piece and I chewed slowly, willing myself to savor the moment. The taste was shockingly good,moist, sweet, just the right hint of vanilla from the crust.
2 watched my face for the reaction, leaning in close, her eyes searching for approval.
2 : nice or not?
she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.
James :Best cake ever
I said, and it wasn’t an exaggeration.
Everything is all rosy in the living and dining area. The warzone however, is in the kitchen. A reality i deliberately waited for my wife to come back to before cleaning up.
Flour on the tiles, streaks of banana mash on the counter, and a constellation of sticky fingerprints on every cabinet within a meter of the sink. The mixing bowls, measuring cups, and spatulas were all piled in the basin, some half-washed, most still crusted with batter. The digital scale i used for making my coffee looked like it had been baptised by flour.
My wife and i cleaned up together.
Then it’s dinner.
Typical heartland restaurant, a place where every family seemed to have their own table, their own routine, their own secret menu orders.
We ate, we talked about the day, the girls shared stories from school.
1 and 2 started squabbling again over desserts, making snide remarks about each other. My wife warned them not to do this on my special day. They stopped. For like 20 seconds. Then it’s back on again. My wife ‘tsk!’ like half a dozen times, embarrassed that 1 and 2’s squabbles attracted stares from other tables. I just zoned out and looked at them.
I watched them, my strange and beautiful family, and felt the day stretch and slow, the way birthdays used to when I was a kid and time had no meaning.
At 9pm, it was time to go. It’s still a school day tomorrow.
Back at home, it was the usual drill, pajamas, brushing teeth, the endless cycle of bedtime prep.
I tucked the girls in, 1 asked if i was sad my birthday is ending. I laughed.
James: It’s just another day of the year…
1 : It’s not…it’s special…
James: ok…
2 on the other hand, was interested more in the present she prepared for me.
2 : I gave you some of my most precious stickers and toys i like the most…if you don’t want, you give them back to me ok?
She went on to hint about a few that she really liked, and she sort of regretted giving them to me. I almost want to laugh but i stopped myself. I took out her bag of ‘zhap ba lang’ (mix) presents, from happy meal toys to used stationaries, and gave her back the stuff she liked.
After the girls are settled, it was finally some alone time with the wife.
She’s already in her pyjamas, applying god knows what on her face in front of the mirror.
I hugged her from behind, i have no doubt she could feel my erection.
Wife : Tsk!…later la…
5 minutes later, she climbed into bed with grin.
Hair, pong pong ( puffy ) after blowing dry, pink elastic hairband keeping her bangs up and making her forehead appearing higher than they are. Weird glimmery sheen on face with a small pimple patch on cheek. Then she speaks with minimal moment on her lips like she is afraid of affecting whatever she applied on her skin.
Wife : oookay…lairs doo eat…wah yuu wan tu tu?
James : I want you to put on something sexy compete with black panty hose, knee high fuck me boots and i want to shoot on your face.
Wife : mmmh…
There’s a reason why i write fantasy stories.
Because a lot of things simply don’t happen in real life.
10 minutes later, I found my release while looking at my wife’s face,still frozen in that beauty mask stillness, her expression barely changing as I finished into a hastily grabbed handful of tissues.
Wife : apppy baaday dear…ar lurf bew…
James : Yes i love you too…
Just for record, we did do a proper one. A proper, intimate session between husband and wife after dropping the kids off for tuition over the weekend.
No knee high fuck me boots and sexy lingerie though.
…
James S
Diary entry 31/10/25
Recently, i sent my folks off to the airport for their holiday. They joined some tour group that caters to seniors. Those more chill, transport all settled, just follow the guide, eat, relax and look at scenery.
This is the kind of holidays my parents like.
No stress, everything all settled. Just need to tell them what time to wake up, gather at the lobby, and they just follow.
Sounds a bit boring if you are young but i guess we will all get to this stage in life where we just want someone to do all the planning for us.
It’s an early morning flight, they wanted to take a cab on their own but i told them it’s ok. I’ll go get them. They have no idea how to book a ride on their phone, their idea of taking a taxi to the airport is to drag their luggage to the side of the road, and hail for one.
Maybe a decade ago, it would be a walk in the park, but now, especially if it’s peak hour, i think it’s going to be challenging.
I arrived early, went up and help them do a check of the house.
Windows closed ?
WIFI router off already?
Trash emptied?
Most important of all, got bring passport or not?
They are still meddling with the number lock just before we leave home, and yes, squabbling over insignificant matters.
Mum : why you still boil water this morning?
Dad : come back no need to drink ah?
Mum : The plants you water already or not?
Dad : only a few days, when it rain it will splash.
Mum : The left over bread bring along to eat on the plane.
Dad : Haiyah. on the plane got food.
Mum : Then why you buy bread?
James: It’s ok, i eat.
I shoo-ed them out the door and made sure the door and gate were locked properly.
There’s this sense of nostalgia as we wheeled the luggage to the lift.
Many years ago, when it was my first time flying on my own for a school program, my parents were the one nagging after me.
Do i have this?
Do i have that?
Keep your money separately.
International adapter?
Got jacket for the plane?
Now, the roles were reversed.
I could tell back then, they were worried about me. It’s the first time i’m flying on my own with school mates and a teacher. It was a grand affair so to speak. Even aunts and uncles turned up at the airport to send me off for the 2 month long trip.
We arrived at the terminal, i dropped them off and they told me they can handle the rest on their own, that i should go and do my own stuff.
I parked the car and made my way to the meeting point. They were glad i’m still there because they have yet to get their roaming settings done up.
A few minutes later, the tour guide came. I hung at the rear, watching him handle the group of young seniors. They checked in, collected their boarding pass and there’s still time to wander around for a bit.
My dad wanted to grab a coffee, so we went to the food court for a drink.
We had time for a chat, they asked about the grandkids, their exams, how they are coping with school and all.
James : Haiyah, don’t worry so much, just go and enjoy yourself.
I reminded them not to buy too much stuff back, especially snacks and food. Just get a little for themselves, we’ll sample them when we visit the following weekend.
The coffee session lasted barely 20 minutes. Old folks when travelling have the same kan cheong spider aura. They want to be extra early, just in case the plane leaves without them.
Mum : if you got go up, help to water plants.
James: han nah..han nah…
Mum : eat the bread…
James : Yes..yes…
I walked them to the gate and watch them clear immigration.
After they’re gone, i stood at the same spot and just zoned off for a bit thinking about the future.
In perhaps another decade, will i be sending 1 and 2 off at the airport as they travel with their friends?
I saw myself giving them the same tired advice my parents gave me: keep your money separate, don’t lose your jacket, text me when you land.
Maybe in another two decades, they will be sending me off as i board the flight with my wife. It occurred to me that by then, I would be the one shuffling aboard a senior citizens’ guided tour, maybe with my wife, the both of us clutching matching boarding passes and arguing over who left the water running or whether the plants would survive our absence. I wondered if 1 & 2 would take turns complaining about our inability to navigate technology, or roll their eyes at our obsession with not missing the plane. Maybe we’d get on each other’s nerves, or maybe we’d discover some new tenderness, a quiet understanding that arrives only when most of the fire has burned away and what remains is more ember than flame.
Three decades from now, if all goes according to the narrative i script for myself, I’ll be standing right where my parents were earlier, waving to my kids and grandkids as they disappear behind the ever-tightening cordon of airport security.
I could see myself, maybe a little wobbly, standing on tiptoe to catch a final glimpse as they vanish into the crowd.
I use to travel for work often before marriage and before i became a father. Airport feels like a transient space, emotionless and cold. Now, it feels different.
There is a peculiar intimacy in watching your parents fumble with boarding passes or argue over the best way to pack their jacket into their carry-on, as if these trivial routines are the last defense against chaos. I realized, standing there, that every departure is a rehearsal for the departures that we don’t look forward to.
One day, we will all say goodbye for good.
No boarding passes, no airport security.
1 & 2 will say it to me, and move on with their lives. And a few decades later, their children will do the same for them.
Who will then, remember us, nameless men and women who lived and walked for a mere 80-100 years ?
I tell myself regularly to live and let live for some matters in work and life. It’s not worth the effort and energy. Client not paying, contractor borrow money never return, vendor goes mia, worker choot stunt.
A sub contractor brought his girlfriend up to a newly completed flat recently. Got caught by the owner.
Who gets fucked?
I do.
It was both embarrassing and shameful, i was angry of course, but what to do?
What can i do?
Anyway, it’s resolved, water under the bridge.
It’s the weekend once again, i hope everyone have a good one ahead with the family.
James S
Diary entry 17/12/25
Just some random thoughts about the site which i felt will be nice to look back to perhaps a few years into the future. I’m very aware of the content and product i’m trying to sell. It’s a ‘want’, not a ‘need’.
If you are looking to start your business, be it big or small, this is something you have to be aware of. ‘Wants’ are the first to go when times get challenging and if you are in the job market, or more or less sensitive to the situation on the streets, things are not looking too bright right now.
Maybe it’s the industry i’m in, or it just so happen that everyone around me are affected one way or another.
I have only 2 running projects at the moment, both 4 room BTOs. Nice clients, young couple looking to start the next stage of their lives. Due to their job situations, they have no choice but to cut the amount of things they want to do when everything is already firmed up. I’m not talking about 1 less cupboard here, maybe shorter kitchen cabinet, i’m talking entire rooms.
Yes, for both clients.
This is really a sian ½ situation but there’s not much i could say or do because nothing has been firmed up, no documents signed, and work hasn’t even started.
Even if the documents were signed, i suspect i might just relent and go along if work for those rooms were not started.
Client A was suppose to retile both toilets over the existing, and the bathrooms will not look out of place at a hotel’s site but the Husband was just notified he will be let go at end of December. No 13th month, nothing. Thank you for your service. And his industry is not one that he can easily find another in the short term. What would have been a comfortable 40ish thousand reno, after cutting back the fancy stuff is now less than 25.
What was i to do? Get all gangster like, threaten them with contract? I could practically hear the change in their tone, the excitement when we first chat compared to the latest meeting. Their house will still look nice, there’ll be lights, aircon, everything they need to live will be there, but the ‘wants’, those will have to wait.
Client B, it was the wife who lost her job. They did not cut as much, but the wet works and fancy stuff in the masterbath was the first to go. You know your family’s take home is cut by 30%, fuck the rain shower in the bath, stand under the rain if you have to. It’s a logical decision. They did not cut as much, but some of the carpentry items which were purely decorative, were let go.
A corporate job will start next month, that will give a bit of certainty for the first couple of months in 2026.
For the site, November is the worse month ever this year. There is usually a dip towards the end of the year, everyone is on holiday, but this November seemed particularly out of place. Overall takings still covers the running cost of the site and all the plugins subscribed to. However, it looks like the annual sum set aside for giving will be much lower than expected. Anyway, there’s still a couple of weeks till December end, maybe things will pick up a bit.
If you are running a business of your own, or hope to do so one day, just know that there is a never ending list of things to do. It just never ends. You fix something today, tomorrow something new will crop up. Things that are working fine today, will suddenly just kaput the next.
The site’s plugins are in a mess, the more i try to meddle and improve it, the worse it seem to get. I’m trying to get help from the plugin developer to fix it.
The idea of having a stable, easy to manage side gig that auto runs is really a pipedream. If it were that easy, everyone will have one.
Honestly, if you have spare cash to invest in a business, i rather you throw them into the stock market. Buy some bank shares, just sit still and collect the dividends.
If you have been following my diary, you may recall an entry sometime last year.
One where i shared i let go of my DBS shares to fund for a family holiday.
That was a painful ouch. One my wife rubs it in my face every now and then.
Wife : see…i told you let me pay and you keep your shares you don’t want…
I’ll be lying if i say it wasn’t painful but considering the trade off, i still feel it was worth it. Because i get to bring my parents on a holiday.
Growing up, i’ll say things like these to my parents;
‘next time, i’ll buy a big house, with a swimming pool. big garden. We will all stay together.’
Maybe you’ve said something similar to yours, both my kids have said something like this to me.
I gave them the same smile my parents gave me back then.
When i think about the smile my parents gave me, i don’t know how to feel.
It’s like they ‘appreciate the thought, but knew it was quite impossible’. Statements like these stopped when i left primary school. I no longer talk about grand ideas like these. My growing brain only had capacity for games, hk dramas, going to Katong Shopping centre to shop for pirated VCDs.
When 1 and 2 said it to me, that they will get a big house complete with garden and pool so we can all stay together, i find myself thinking if they could afford the downpayment for a HDB BTO.
I probably have to dig into my savings and help them out a little.
Not that i’m looking down on them or anything, i just wonder how much they will have to go through, just to be able to afford something like that in singapore.
Do they need to work what? 16 hour days, 7 days a week? To pay for mortgage?
I’ll be happy if they can grow up healthy, be happy, maybe if they are lucky, find a man that loves them as much as i do.
Yes, i aimed a bit too high when i was young. Big house, big car, swimming pool. Everyone stay together as a big happy family. Now, i learned to manage my expectations and adjust my goals. I find joy and pride taking my folks overseas.
Taking them to see sights they will never see, to experience things they will never get to in Singapore.
It need not be somewhere far, could be a drive across the causeway to visit some temple or a small attraction, or a short flight a couple of hours away. I know they liked that, and i enjoyed spending time with them.
Recent holiday, i noticed they were a lot slower in their pace compared to last year. They tire easily and at times, chose to stay head back to the hotel room after half a day out. We were in Shanghai, and food delivery was super convenient. Once they experienced the joy of having robots deliver food to their doorsteps, they were practically hooked. They kept talking about what delicious food to order in for supper.
While i rather we head out to explore the city, my folks were happy to chill in the room and eat. It was a delicate balance, wife and kids want to head out of course, but i knew we had to plan it in such a way my parents could head back and rest if they wanted.
A typical day will see us heading out early after breakfast. We will have lunch together after visiting the 1st location, then my parents will make their way back to the room. I’ll hit the 2nd spot with wife and kids. We will meet up again for dinner, if they don’t feel too cold or tired. If they are too tired, i’ll order food delivery for them. What’s the point of flying to another country when you stay in the room you say?
I too wished they could spend the whole day with me, take more pictures together and all, but i’ll take what is possible.
As the saying goes ‘ take the small wins ‘
Teaching my parents to pay with their phone in China when they don’t even do so in Singapore is a challenge. Haha. With a bit of encouragements from the grandkids, they managed to do it. We even did mini games and missions, something i task the kids to do.
Ah gong, go 7-11 and buy this, this, this.
Ah ma, go buy this from the street vendor.
With your phone.
No help given.
When they managed to do so, the kids will cheer and i could tell it made my parents’ day.
The missions were not just for fun, it was to prep them for the day i will not be around them because we’re taking the kids to Disneyland.
I can’t expect 2 old folks to cheong Disneyland the entire day can i? They were to explore the city on their own. If they can’t pay, can’t navigate, then how? Stay in the room the whole day?
Thankfully, the orientation and familiarization we did the first few days turned out well.
For the first time ever, my parents explored the neighbourhood on their own. They shopped, they paid for their food, tried new things without me babysitting them.
Maybe that’s what growing up or parenthood is, a slow releasing of fingers from your grip.
One day, it’ll be my turn to watch my daughters venture out alone while I wait behind, hoping they remember everything I taught them. And the day will come they watch me grow old and struggle to learn some new technology that the seniors struggle with.
Who knows, maybe in the future, you need to only wave or gesture in some way to pay and no matter how i try, i just won’t be able to get the gesture right.
Will have another diary entry before the year ends.
Stay safe all
James S