More old posts. This was at the end of 2013, 6th dec.

The past year for me has been characterized by me ripping my identity to shreds.

I got married. Marriage is a whole different beast from dating. You realize that your partner is now legally bound to you, so you can “let go”. You don’t have to apologize as much. You don’t have to be as nice to each other. If you’re not careful, it’s very easy to start taking advantage of each other. This, of course, is how relationships get ruined. I’m still technically a newlywed, but I’ve quickly realized how amazing it is that some people stay happily married for decades. It really is a lot to ask of another human being.

I bought a flat. Home ownership is awesome, once you get past the realization that you now owe HDB hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s amazing to wake up in your own home. I love having friends over- they’re able to relax to a degree that they wouldn’t be able to if we were at somebody’s parent’s place. I love being in control of my environment. I love having a safe place I can be myself, I can completely, fully relax without having to worry about what other people might think. Everybody should live alone if they get the chance to. You get to learn more about yourself, confront yourself, see yourself.

I got a full-time job and transitioned directly into the working world. I have bills to pay now. I love my job and have awesome colleagues, but nobody quite prepared me for the soul-crushing that is daily public transportation. Every day I see adults with their eyes glazed over. They’re insulating themselves from one another, from the reality that there’s no way humans were meant to be stuffed into MRT carriages the way we are.

Living on a “working adult” schedule makes me realize how very important it is to manage your time well. I actively rebelled against this in school, because I felt like I didn’t want to work on anybody else’s schedule. I wanted to be a “free spirit”. Years of procrastination later, I realize that I’m a creature of habit like anyone else. In the absence of good habits, we fall into bad ones. As a result, I’ve found it hard to do the work that I want to do- my history and habit of disobedience extended to myself. Or, more accurately, my “disobedience” was really just fanatical, obsessive devotion to a very small subset of myself I now personify as “The Bum”.

And being a slave to The Bum is no different from being a slave to The System.

I quit smoking. Well… mostly. I started smoking on-and-off in 2006 or 2007, after I finished my O Levels. I didn’t think of myself as a smoker at first, I’d just bum sticks from my bandmates after jam sessions. Then I started hanging out with the smokers in JC. I was never a “core member” of that group- or of any group, really- but it gave me a sense of control over my life.

I hated school, I hated studying, but I could self-medicate and modify my mental state at my anytime with the psychoactive stimulant. It was solace, companionship, social lubricant, something to look forward to. It felt like I was in control. The lows felt more poignant, the highs felt amplified. But it progressively desensitized me, and after about 5 years, the damage was undeniable. My lips were charred, my teeth were stained. I had horrible breath. My gums were receding. My eyes and skin dried out. I had spent thousands of dollars.

I attempted to quit several times before, every so often, but it’s incredibly hard when all your close friends smoke too. In the end, the things that helped me quit the most were- having my own place, which I don’t want to smoke in, and having colleagues who don’t smoke.

I still do bum a cigarette every so often, admittedly. But I am done with the idea of cigarettes punctuating my life. It very quickly turns into an abusive relationship if you’re not careful.

I quit Facebook. Well… mostly. I deactivated my account altogether for 3 months or so. I was a huge Facebook addict prior to that. I took a lot of pride in being really good at arguing with people online. I was the “Actually…” guy. It was a significant part of my self-worth. I left because I was getting incredibly frustrated with all the personal attacks that were being thrown about. I hated getting so personally involved in petty arguments. Eventually, it’s all about winning.

Facebook is largely about performance and identity creation- everything anybody does there is largely calculated (even if it’s entirely subconscious) to create social capital. It’s all a game, really, and it’s incredibly addictive, immersive and draining. I decided it was too much for me and got out. Now I log into Facebook once in a while to see if I’m missing anything. It usually just reminds me of how much more peaceful and pleasant my life is without it.

Advice for anybody else nursing a Facebook addiction: Post as little as possible, because everything you post is an expression of personal identity, and the more of yourself you put out there, the more you have to defend in the constant game of comparisons and oneupmanship. You almost certainly have better things to do. Realize that it’s not personal- everybody just wants to be loved, everybody just wants to be acknowledged as smart, beautiful, cultured, “with it”, “okay”.

Once you recognize the mass charade for what it is, it’s very hard to get back into it without feeling a little silly. You always have something better to do with your life than show off on the internet.

If I have to focus on one thing that I’ve learnt, it’s that our ideas about our own identities are very, very limited. You are not your cigarettes. You are not your Facebook profile. You are not your marital status. You are not your address. You are not your nationality, your race, your sexuality, your gender- these things may define you, and they may be things that you take great pride in, but you are always indescribably more than that. If you don’t acknowledge this, you’ll inadvertently pigeonhole yourself and allow your circumstances to limit and shape you.

You are not your circumstances, you are not your job, you are not your friends. You are thoughts and actions, habits, routines, patterns of behaviour. And all of that can change. You don’t have to hate yourself. You don’t have to be a slacker. You don’t have to be an automaton. You don’t have to be any one thing at all.

Definitions exist as shorthand, for quick and convenient decision-making. But living with yourself, loving yourself, getting to know yourself… these are pursuits in which shorthand simply will not do. Life is an indescribably precious opportunity, it’s so goddamn rich and succulent, and we do ourselves a horrible disservice by thinking that what we are at any given instant is all we’ll be.

We’re more than that.