Author: admin

I started this year with the intention to write a reflection every month. I found myself to have failed – it takes too much energy to routinely tap into a reflective energy, and too much to wind down. A month isn’t a long time; a month launches you into the next. However, I do find the idea of compounding a year’s worth of living into a single post somehow more palatable. The end of a year is a comfortable time to weave a basket of memories.

☆*:.。. Jump to .。.:*☆
JAN • FEB • MAR • APR • MAY • JUN • JUL • AUG • SEPT • OCT • NOV • DEC

january

Living

• Bedridden with a high fever (~40ºC) that didn’t ease up after 4 days. Called 111 and they told me to sleep, said they’ll check on me after 5 hours, they didn’t. Had a pit stop at A&E and they told me it’ll be fine. Lovely start to the new year.
• Visited Sharon at Colch, which I wrote more about here.

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• I continued going to Sketch & Café sessions, which is always lovely. There’s no pressure to perform and no need to reintroduce yourself – the lines one makes on paper make one legible.

february

Living

• Got really lonely, which made my constitution weak. Went to TCM to get some expensive meds (where I didn’t feel cared for in a way that mattered) and cried on the bench outside Manchester Library.
• Another Chinese New Year away from home, which is always a tricky paradox in the feelings department. On the bright side, Chinatown Manchester had loads of festivities: young kids singing in a choir out-of-tune, playing pop-pops that went for £1 a box, sounds of cymbals in rhythm with a lion dance’s steps.

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• My work got exhibited in Affleck’s Micro-gallery exhibition, produced and curated by HappeninginMCR. It’s a digital print of a gouache painting depicting plushies from my final year of university.
• Following from that, I joined HIM as a graphic designer! One of the cases where I’m grateful that I sent a cold email, with a simple ask.
• Made a little flip book as Min’s gift for our anniversary. Had a major fun time making, thinking, figuring out where to print and bind (Ryman’s…).
• Managed to get a fresh grad graphic design role in-house in the UK, which has been challenging as an international graduate.

march

Living

• Balik Bristol, macam kampung di UK.
• Following a flash of curiosity, I found out that great-great-family members from my Dad’s side come from a town in China named Sunyi (信宜市). With the knowledge that sunyi in Malay means quiet/solitude/empty in a melancholic and sombre way, it made me feel like something clicked. Yet, I haven’t been able to put that something into words.

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Designed my first trophy at day job, super cool stuff. Love physical objects and media. It makes you humble as a designer, having to take into account costs, material, size, how it feels in your hand.
• Facilitated a RISO workshop at Underbank Studios – courtesy of Heather. I’m grateful for the opportunity. It didn’t occur to me that I would have enough knowledge on risography to facilitate a workshop on it, but I did. Despite hiccups from an old riso machine, it went well. An intimate session, but it made me connect with people better.
• Travelled down to Bristol to table at Zinezilla with Claire and Suelyn! My first time tabling with this trio – it was an energising time. Very busy day with a lot of creative energy bouncing around. The Zinezilla team’s enthusiasm was contagious. Mostly, I’m glad it gave me the chance to meet dear friends, doing what I enjoy.

april

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Had a half-table at Derbyshire Zine Festival’s debut! Organised by Charlie from Derbyshire Zine Library.

may

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Went to a couple networking/event launches as part of the HappeninginMCR team.
• Completed an editorial design short course offered by RCA London, a gift to myself. The wrap-up project was to conceptualise and design a magazine. With ongoing cultural conversation revolving around collecting/trinketing, it inspired me to do one about collecting and gathering – titled “savekeeping”. [planing to write a post on the course & projects]

june

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Attended Birmingham Design Festival under Don’t Panic alongside the creative team. Two first times that I appreciate through a lens of wonder: attending a design festival and going on a business trip. I did fall flat on tarmac and scraped my knee in public. Also took the opportunity to meet up with Ellie, Kei, and Emily.

july

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• HappeninginMCR launched their first Life Drawing session in collaboration with Portico Library. Tying into the Portico’s folklore exhibition, life models incorporated sound and music to portray a folklore narrative of their choosing.

august

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Celebrated the 2nd anniversary of HappeninginMCR!! The team of 5 did fresco painting at Jasper’s painting class, held at Saan1. Kan gifted us champagne and I accidentally dipped my painting brush into it….
• Tabled at Multitudes Zine Fest, where Jasmine was co-organising. Location lended itself to busy footfall (Sacha’s on a weekend), which brought in so many lovely interactions and conversations. I also had a box that asked the public to answer a question: What are you grateful for?

september

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Facilitated a second workshop at Underbank Studios, introducing an element of collage to riso printing.
• Third and last Life Drawing session for this leg.
• Attended Magazine Street. Stuck on a train for 8 hours on this day as the route North to Edinburgh was interrupted by a fell tree. Felt crazy.

october

LIVING

• Went back to Malaysia for two weeks. Had a lot of thoughts about it. harhar

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• Was invited to a casual artist hangout at an old condominium in the heart of KL, abode of a forward-thinking Malaysian artist. Clearly another instalment of placing myself in social positions that are outside my own depth. The general group was so much older and so much wiser in terms of their creative career and in Malaysia’s art scene, I knew I was given a great opportunity to just absorb. People have returned, people want to leave; in the end, everyone’s just making (it) work.

november

LIVING

• Min got called to the Bar 🙂 “I hereby publish you as Barrister”. The whole ceremony I was enchanted by the use of “publish”. I found it so interesting to be “published” into being, from years of preparation and to continue living from that point of publishing onwards. It was a line of transformation. Made me think: how could the publishing of books/texts exist to be continuously transformed? How can I be published?

creatiNG/COMMUNITY

• What happened in November….

december

Living

• Started working F&B again, this time at a Malaysian restaurant. It helps that I enjoy serving in hospitality, that my experiences so far haven’t crossed the line of traumatic.
• I have been once again, plagued by the Thought of Two Choices. I have to believe that life shape-shifts and morphs into what ever decisions made, there is no “alternate route” and “what-ifs”. I might be limited by the thought that there are only two paths.

CReating/COMMUNITY

• Spontaneously tabled at Fly-by Fair with Charlie, organised by Caterpillar Press. Weather was shite so it was a little quiet. This gave me some time to have a proper chat with Charlie.
• Made another short interactive reading piece – this time, about KL (what a surprise!). Used Super Videotome, which during this project, I’ve come to enjoy writing in.

Instagram has been making me feel sick recently. I have a 15-minute screen limit and I keep hitting “15 more minutes” again and again. Scrolling through my feed, I get nauseous. It sits in the pits of my stomach and I want to vomit. I’m desperately seeking for something that the platform can’t provide.

Growing up, I would get home from school and open Facebook to 99+ notifications. None of them bots or notifications of things I don’t care about. Almost all of them were from online community interactions – comments, chats; caring, clumsy. The occasional poke here and there. Oh look, my aunt posted a blurry family photo in a Meitu frame. I go through them and each click brings me closer to someone across the seas. It felt good knowing they see me too. …I miss my white Sony VAIO E-series running cracked Photoshop with a bloated battery (I know).

There’s also the whiplash and the envy. I miss my friends. I catch up with their lives through the occasional story and photo dump post. They’re busy, I’m busy. Reaching out shouldn’t feel as heavy as this. I miss them so much, but it doesn’t really matter if they miss me or not. Sometimes I wonder if I like the idea of having someone to miss more. It’s pathetic, to think about it that way. I see my friends happy, I see an ad, I see a genocide, I see an ad. I want to throw up. 

Facebook circa 2012 saw my carefree postings as a young teen – after-school thoughts, age-appropriate swears, opinions on anime – and I would get responses back, equally as carefree. Now I can’t even post without thinking about its life after me…without me. Going private isn’t an idea I want to entertain. Some call it pride.

More than anything, I’m ashamed of myself. It’s easier to make connections on the internet now than ever, but why do I feel more disconnected from everyone else? Sometimes it feels like shouting into a void. It’s the lack of intentionality that I also fall trap to… I struggle to leave comments on public posts, never interact in a Discord server, and lurk on various subreddits. Despite the veneer of anonymity, is anyone else also more anxious online than IRL? Please tell me this performance doesn’t come easy for you too.

I think I’m using social media (aka Instagram) wrong. I know I’m projecting unrealistic expectations based on a simpler time. With the platform, it seems like a bad habit turned second-nature. It shouldn’t be this deep, but my head is soft and pressure leaves spots. I will wake up 3 months later and this won’t matter anymore.

I walked out of the TCM clinic two-bottles of herbal powder heavier, and £180 lighter. There is nothing seriously wrong with me, other than a horrible sleeping schedule and some vitamin deficiencies. NHS is “free”, but they won’t bother with ailments such as these. They didn’t bother with my friend who had a 150bpm resting heart rate. They didn’t bother with my other friend who vomited in the waiting room for 8 hours. The TCM doctor – a Chinese lady, short bob, red lipstick – asked me where I’m from and complimented my Chinese. These were the exact same questions asked during my first visit, as if it never happened. As if my file wasn’t opened in front of her. She told me to remove my birth control and whipped up a concoction of herbs. 3.5 spoons in hot water, two times a day. It tastes fine. I am haunted by my inability to say no.

Popped into the Asian mart a couple minutes away, craving for bee hoon. I looked at the prices for instant noodles and started crying. The desire to be home, away from the cold and wind and stretches of darkness, swelled up without warning. I don’t usually feel so intensely for home. The way I spent £180 on herbs that I need to believe will help solve my issues weighed so heavily on my mind. £180 is around RM1020 and I feel ill thinking about how that’s almost Malaysia’s minimum wage (RM1500), and I feel even more ill thinking about how this amount means nothing to someone else. I think about the times I have to send money back because there’s always an emergency expense, and how it’s so easy for me do to so on a Pound Sterling paycheck, and I feel ungrateful – disgusted at myself – for wanting to return home. To return to a place where there’s always an underlying prediction of chaos and death.

I am reminded of Crying in H Mart, and think of how funny it is that I’ve found myself in a similar predicament to a book title I’ve never given much thought of. Perhaps one day if I ever feel so inclined, I’ll pick up Michelle’s book.

i wished it was longer

(new years!)

I spent the first week of 2024 absolutely bed-ridden. A 39º fever raging on its 4th night, Lemsip and Pei Pa Gou in my system, listening to the temperature scanner’s constant red beeping. My partner, despite all his bar studies, made sure I was alive. There was no feverish dream, there was no deep longing for home (as home was next to me), it was banal as it was painful. I feared the heat would sear my brain. It didn’t. It was just something in the air – a viral infection – the clinician on 111 told me after waiting for 4 hours. They caught it themselves just last week, advised that I could drink more tea. I didn’t. But I got better and showered for the first time in 4 days.

(travelling)

At the cusp of recovery, I went to London. To meet up with a dear friend pursuing her translation dreams in Colchester. Last time we met was 12am in a car parked at my front porch. For lunch, she invited her Malaysian friend pursuing a PhD in London, working between theatre and culture and words of different languages. I think about how the world is so connectively small, which makes it overwhelmingly huge. I think about Malaysians who are constantly underrepresented in their own home. How one of the many Malaysian diaspora experience is to be adaptable, because we can only rely on the Malaysian spirit. What national/governmental infrastructure is there for us to rely on, when we don’t have equal rights? We had great conversations about many small things. It was comforting to hear about other experiences and passions with no pretence. I listen on about Chinese-English drama and books, scholarships and taxes.

(the longing spirit for malaysia can be brought anywhere, because there is no material infrastructure to rely on.)

While in Colchester I went to see the sea. Yes, in winter, especially in winter. An hour bus ride brings me to Clacton-on-sea. The strong winds pushing me away, pulling me back. I spun along with the force of its gusts. The pressure making it hard to breathe through my nostrils. My fingertips numb – they’ve always been cold in the UK – despite tucked in my coat pockets. I felt so small and I absolutely loved it. It felt like the universe loved us there too, gifting us sunny and blue skies throughout.

The coastline spread across Clacton-on-sea and Frinton-on-sea. I went with Sharon, and met up with a local acquaintance of hers. As we walked along the beach, he talked about personal histories of fish and chips, fair rides on the pier, swimming pools for model boats. He drove us down to Frinton and brought us to frequented places, even pointed out a (free and clean!) public toilet hidden behind the high street. When the bus back was cancelled, he drove 30-minutes to bring us home. My fingertips warmed up from the selfless action of doing favours for strangers.

(manchester)

And then I went back to Manchester, where once again, I continue looking for a job. Foreign face in a foreign country whatnot. I talked to a Taiwanese illustrator who’s also job searching but to no avail. Throughout the process, I have found that I have a low tolerance for office bureaucracy, and that being honest has served me better than if I hadn’t. Of course, I still had to concern myself with self-preservation to some degree, and read up on job hunting tips. It’s honestly so arduous and soul-sucking, but the interviews I’ve gotten have been rather pleasant. No HR, no recruiter, no middle men. Just people wanting graphic designers.

But going back to Manchester also meant I went back to my home away from home. My partner and I celebrated our 7th anniversary with a simple homemade dinner. While I do have…considerable experience in the kitchen, I must admit my skills are better served in prepping ingredients and washing up. So, I made rice while he cooked us sweet and sour pork; I cut all the onions while he put foiled fish in the oven; I set up the table and he made miso soup. We ate and watched Lord of the Rings. We slept in each other’s arms – medical tape over his mouth for snoring, and a self-moulded mouth guard in mine for bruxism.

On a chill Friday night, my friends and I gave out blankets to people who are unhoused. I didn’t know where we were going and ended up in Fallowfield with a 20% phone battery. We walked all the way to the Curry Mile, which is a nickname for a stretch on Wilmslow road. Turns out it’s a famous food spot, developed in the 50s and 60s to serve south Asian migrants. Blankets were passed out, 3 duffle bags full, and we ended the night at Pepe’s Piri Piri.

(on company)

Sometimes I feel terribly alone. I feel like the worst person in the world. I feel that breathing is laborious. Cognitively, I know that I’m not but I feel it deeply, the ghosts of my past making itself known. The worms in my brain are feeding off my self-sabotage. I can trace them wriggling between the gaps they create, or are they just filling in the void that was already there? Being self-deprecating was the way I survived as an adult-to-be.

The loneliness was curbed with a rather simple solution: cooking. More specifically, my friends and I have started cooking for each other on a non-regular basis. Just whenever someone feels like it, and shows up with ingredients. I’ve also met up with people working in the MCR creative industry from cold emailing, and by putting myself in the painful situation of talking to strangeres – about others, about myself – it made me feel better. I found out I have a terrible habit of speaking softly, especially when I’m scrambling for an answer.

(palestine)

This is all happening while the genocide on Palestinian people are still underway, and the land and their culture devastated. Please continue your efforts in any means of sharing online, donating, speaking out, sharing it with people in your life, boycotting, marching etc.

We are way past the moment of educating ourselves, but if there’s a chance you’re unclear, spaces you inhabit will have resources on it. Because I watch many video essays on the game industry, here’s a video by PeopleMakeGames: The Games Industry Must Not Stay Silent on Palestine. Also to read > decolonisepalestine.com. Whether you do the above or not is not an inherent indicator of morality, but it helps others, and that should be a weighty enough reason.

“Self acceptance is found in imperfect solidarity.”

Alice Sparkly Kat