This issue is a record of and reflection on May and June 2025.
The ancients said: at thirty, you stand firm. That day has finally come for me. And fittingly, this is also the thirtieth issue of this monthly.
Growing Up
The other evening I went downstairs to the barbershop for a haircut, chatting with the owner, a man from northeastern China. He said time seems to move faster every year — a day goes by in a blink, barely any sensation of it passing. The same days, repeating. One month to the next, one year to the next. Now he finds himself afraid of time moving too fast, whereas as a child he couldn’t wait for it to speed up — wanting to grow up sooner.
I haven’t had that feeling in a long time either — that “I can’t wait for tomorrow to come.” As a kid I’d look forward to seeing classmates the next day, to the cartoon episode that would air, to the new Naruto chapter that dropped every Wednesday — I used to close my eyes and will myself to sleep faster, as if blacking out would deliver me straight to the thing I was waiting for.
But now it’s the reverse. Reluctant for today to end, I stay up holding onto the evening hours as if they’re mine and mine alone, as if by not sleeping I can stretch time indefinitely.
I saw a line recently: “Explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog — you understand the mechanics and the structure, but the frog is dead.” The same goes for me writing about growing up. By the time I can actually describe what it feels like, I’ve already lost the expectation that once accompanied it.
Hopes
Romain Rolland said: “Most men die at 20 or 30, and are buried at 60 or 70. They merely repeat themselves for the rest of their lives.”
The soul is so often seen as dying in one’s twenties or thirties because from that point on, many of us begin mechanically copying yesterday’s thoughts and behaviors — losing the freshness and aliveness of the earlier self.
This kind of dying is more about the calcification of spirit — when we do nothing but repeat what we once believed, once loved, once rejected, as if deliberately imitating an old and fixed version of ourselves. We no longer perceive the richness and mystery of the world with any sharpness. We can no longer catch the small glimmers and possibilities in everyday life.
I genuinely miss and feel grateful for the version of me in my early twenties. He had energy and resilience I can barely imagine now. He took enormous pressure and setbacks and kept going. He created experiences that surprised even him —
- An unexpected college entrance exam result that put me in an education department at a second-tier school, from which I taught myself programming, entered competitions, won a national prize, and made it to WWDC (WWDC 19 Travelogue);
- A student teaching internship that introduced me to many wonderful kids (Goodbye, My College Years);
- Studying for the philosophy postgraduate exam and wandering through a sea of philosophical ideas — the widest sky I’ve known (2018: Settling In);
- Then interning at a major tech company, working hard, advancing quickly (Goodbye, Summer);
- Then leaving to start something (Monthly (Issue 27): A New Way of Living);
- And now, living in a foreign country (Monthly (Issue 29): A New Life).
He went through a lot in his twenties. There was joy in those experiences, but there was corresponding pain too. It all bears witness to his tenacity and strength.
I don’t know if the thirty-year-old version of me can inherit that strength. But if I calcify here — if I do nothing but deliberately imitate that older, fixed self — then I’ve wilted.
What I hope for at thirty: the courage to break free from the beliefs and habits set in my twenties, the willingness to venture into the unfamiliar possibilities I haven’t yet touched.
Real growth isn’t just about absorbing knowledge from outside — it’s about transforming and pushing past yourself. Living openly, humbly, and bravely in a present that keeps changing. That’s how we avoid being frozen by the judgments of the past, how we avoid spending the long years ahead in self-repetition. Instead: dancing again in the openness of the soul, keeping tension, continuing to bloom.
I still want a kind of thinking that is clear, peaceful, and grounded — and through it, to experience the next unknown chapter of life.
🌺 Snippets from Life
🏡 Home
Moved into a new apartment last month. A brand new development — everything is fresh. Tennis court, pool, gym, all there. A hawker centre and a wet market just across the road, so daily life is convenient.
But the rent here is genuinely terrifying. A one-bedroom is 3,000+ SGD a month…
⛰️ Hiking
Went hiking with colleagues and reached the summit of Singapore’s highest peak: Bukit Timah Hill (163 meters…).
On the way down we spotted an interesting tree stump and some monkeys.
🎡 Ferris Wheel
Got a photo of the Ferris wheel! Looking through my camera roll, I’ve photographed Ferris wheels in Zhongshan, Suzhou, and Shenzhen too — but never actually been on one.
🌴 Batam
Went to Batam Island in Indonesia this weekend. Prices there were surprisingly affordable.
🌳 Botanical Garden
A day worth remembering.
Tomorrow and the future may not be the most important thing. Right here, right now — this is the only thing I have and the only thing worth cherishing and being grateful for. It’s where all meaning lives.
🎬 Books, Films, and More
What I’ve been reading, watching, and playing this period:
- Currently reading: Essays | Ordinary Loves | ★★★★☆
- Currently reading: Essays | Thinking Is My Resistance | ★★★★☆
- Currently reading: Literature | Yu Hua’s Literary Lectures | ★★★★☆
- Currently reading: Fiction | The Lychees of Chang’an | ★★★★☆
- Finished: Film | Final Destination: Bloodlines | ★★★☆☆
- Finished: Film | The Wailing | ★★★☆☆
