kemasminda

 A newborn  A new boss.  It's a hit or miss sometimes . You don't know how your new boss will be like until it comes out. Get a baby, they said. It'll be a joy in your life, they said. Yes. There is a joy that comes, but the physical and mental toll on both me and my business partner (my wife) holds down a whirling tantrum on our daily, almost hourly progress meetings with a boisterous dictator who aggressively cried for attention -- even for inconsequential desires that change on a whim. Part of our job description is to coach the boss,  Perhaps in the end we shouldn't look at it as a logical, business decision. Rather, we should lean into a sacrificial nature, where personal identity is splintered and reshaped to fit into this new dynamic with this new boss baby. It all clinches on capitalising our emotion. The baby's face is engineered to look cute to us. That's no coincidence. .... A newborn. A new boss. In business, hiring is a risk. You never truly know wh...

 I don't like. I don't like mushy food  It's like someone who chew the food and spit it out 🤮 they spit onto the skin and then they will roll it up and it will pass off become with your fingers all over it it's so unsanitary.  Let meat taste like meat. Not some pre-chewed half-chewed disgusting slop.  Wanton Shuikao dumplings ew.

 I can’t really blame people for not accepting evolution. Obviously, many never researched it and simply don’t want to—but I get it. It’s deeply uncomfortable. Evolution doesn’t grant us a divine origin story. It says we’re here due to random mutations, environmental pressures, and a long series of accidents. We’re not the center of the universe—we're just another branch on the tree of life. That kind of perspective demands you let go of the idea that you’re cosmically chosen or inherently special. And yet, paradoxically, religion often plays both sides. It tells us we’re made in the image of God—beloved, chosen, eternal. But at the same time, it tells us we’re broken, fallen, inherently sinful, in need of saving. That we are nothing without grace. So even the supposed affirmation is laced with dependence and guilt. You're exalted, but only conditionally. No matter how intelligent or open-minded you are, these ideas get buried deep. They shape the way you see yourself and your ...

The neighbourhood of Terrace houses is so interesting. Unlike slums that are mostly upfront with their predicament and don't give a fuck, or bungalows that are fortresses, a sanctuary that hides all unless you're within its inner sanctums.  The middle class are familiar with a whole league of masking and identity work that are so intricately juxtaposed. Their front parts of the houses are all fronts. Gated, showing what they want you to see, some gardener up and gilded, some dark and sullen, some bare, but most consciously hiding what they don't want you to see. Guards up.  But there are so many things happening at the back lanes, if you slip past the small cleft between two rows, and walk along the longkangs, drains that flow with the living arteries of what actually happens in the houses. The smell of soap from water draining from bathrooms as they shower, the varying scents from their kitchens as they cook. Biryani, ginger, steamed fish, fried rice, curry.  It's so e...

--- I haven’t been making art or creating for a while—at least not for my own sake, or from a place of passion. I think it stems from a fear: the fear of starting something and only having the energy to sustain it for a short while before letting it go. As we say in Chinese—三分鐘熱度—a three-minute passion. No commitment. I’m not sure when I started letting this mindset hold me back from enjoying creative pursuits for what they are: leisure, expression, and the simple joy of being. But I do remember the strict voices, the social pressures—real and ever-present—that both inhibit my desire to create and simultaneously demand that I produce more. It’s a contradiction: the weight of expectations, telling me to create freely, to be productive, to be better. This shadow looms over me—whispering that if I begin a craft, I must become good at it. And when I see how much I struggle compared to the many masters out there, I feel obliged to hone my skills. But that effort often doesn’t feel rewarding...