The human ouroboros

I often have to remind myself to dismiss estranged ties and unreciprocated relations; like severed appendage and gangrenous limb.

Then I realise -

I was that severed limb. From the very beginning.

1st attempt at caricature

Designing a banner for Nursing Pride's contest

Baby Boat meets his great-grandparents + I've made a startling discovery!

Today, HL and I brought Baby Boat to my grandparents's house in Bedok North. It was the first time the elders met their great-grandson.

四代同堂

Baby Boat meets the ancestors of Ang family

We bumped into my grandmother's youngest sister, which I call her as my "小老姨". I wondered what should Baby Boat call her nex time when he is able to speak - "老小老姨"?



When we were there, I had the chance to flip through old photo albums and looked at pictures of us growing up.

As I flipped through the photos, I've made a horrific discovery about our childhood!

Zooming in, David and I were wearing couple-like clothes. Matching white singlets with stripped shorts. That was a coincidence, right?

AND THE WORST
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Drawing assistant nurse Sara from scratch

This is not a tutorial on how to draw, but a presentation on a character from scratch. AN Sara first appeared in my comic strip for TTSH nursing newsletter 'Nursing Pride' (Jan 2011 issue).

 

Great expectations

Gonna show his GF next time.

Galileo was wrong. The sun is not the centre of the universe, family is.

Naming our kid (old doodling)

This was something I dug out from my Doodling Files. I thought this site might need some colors. FYI, my boy was named nothing of the above.

I am Not writing a zombie story

After submitting my entry for National Arts Council's 2011 Golden Point Short Story competition, I stood at outside the entrance and it was poetically drizzling. I knew that I would not be shortlisted for any prizes. But then again, I knew that a week ago. Somewhere between rewriting another 5,000 words of utter frustration and researching for my school assignment which was another 2K, I had almost gave up. Why bother when you know you won't win anything? The idea of my story was interesting to begin with (Honeymooners caught in zombie apocalypse), but a test-read with pals on the first draft have shown that it was illogical, poorly executed, possessed zero character sympathies and was structurally messy (like my room). Why bother to continue something so miserable and unsalvagable, wasting both time and effort?

One has to start somewhere, innit?

As I stood in the Mountbattenian drizzle, I knew that I have won, well, metaphorically just by sticking with it. I have learned so much, I suspected far more that what costly writing classes could offer. And there in the drizzle when everything was done and sealed, when I was expected to go back to the mundane and predictable routines of my daily life, because I have 'unclogged my pipes', 'got it out of my system', 'pre-middle age crisis' or 'skeletons put to rest' – envisioning pallbearers lowering down a tiny coffin filled with my manuscript, word processor and Thesaurus into a shallow grave and the priest had said something about moving on and being in a better place, probably in investment banking...

I was already thinking of my next story.

Over the week, I have learned three important things on writing: