Hades Review - Prince of the Underworld

I’m going to say this front and centre: Hades is incredible. This is, hands down, one of the best games of the year. It’s polished in just about every way you can think of.

You are Zagreus, rebellious son of Hades, who is fed up with the grim drudgery of his father’s domain. Armed with your trusty Stygian Blade, you resolve to escape and reach the world of the living. The gods of Olympus send help in the form of godly powers which add to your destructive prowess. You hack and slash your way through your father’s demonic hordes, until finally one loathsome foe ends your miserable life. Your body sinks into a pool of blood…

But you’re a god too, remember?

You rise from a crimson pool within the House of Hades. Shades linger nervously along the hall. The cheery Hypnos, God of Sleep, comments on your death. The giant three-headed hound, Cerberus, lounges on guard duty, always willing to be petted. And at his massive desk, Hades himself looks up from his infernal parchment-work and sneers at your foolish attempt to escape. Welcome home, boy.

No matter. The maternal Nyx, Goddess of Night, encourages you in your next attempt. Your stalwart mentor, the hero Achilles (deceased), tells you to believe in your training. Feeling just a little stronger, a little wiser, you steel your resolve and begin your escape once again through the shifting walls of Tartarus.

THERE IS NO ESCAPE

Hades is a roguelike, a genre of video game I had absolutely no interest in before. Roguelikes are characterized by randomly generated levels and the spectre of permadeath. You fight your way as far as you can, die, and then start all over again from the beginning. Fun, right? But the thing is, in Hades that is fun. It’s incredibly fun. Hades is so well-made that it raises the bar up to Mount Olympus itself.

Again, the core premise of roguelikes is the randomness: no two runs are ever alike. The vast chambers of the underworld are always realigning themselves against you. But the core gameplay loop is the same. You start out with a sword and soon unlock other weapons such as a shield, a spear, and more. These play very differently, but you always have a basic attack, a stronger special move, a dash to escape or flank your foes, and a limited ranged attack called a Cast. Destroy all enemies within a room and you earn a reward. The doors unlock; you can then see what rewards will come next and must choose between them.

Chthonic keys unlock new weapons; gemstones are used to purchase decorations and work orders from the House Contractor which alter the underworld itself. Nectar can be gifted to your friends to improve your relationships, and Darkness unlocks passive abilities via the Mirror of Night that hangs in your bedroom, courtesy of Nyx. And then there are boons from your extended family on Olympus.

The Olympians’ powers fall into distinct classes that augment your moveset. Zeus in his munificence grants you lightning effects; Poseidon governs tidal impacts which slam enemies away from you; Athena’s boons revolve around shields and deflection. And so on. You’ll be given a choice of three boons each time you meet a god or goddess but can never predict exactly which will be on offer. Gain the right combination of powers, though, and you may even be granted a Duo boon, in which two Olympians combine their might to give you something extra special.

Apart from all that, there could also be gold to buy items from Charon, the skeletal ferryman of souls who moonlights as a merchant; Poms of Power to power up a single boon; centaur hearts to increase your health. Rarest of all is the Daedalus Hammer, which alters your weapon itself. Always pick the Hammer! The abilities it grants are literally game-changing and will make multiple playthroughs with the same weapon quite different indeed. 

And that still isn’t all there is to ransacking the underworld.

Since I’m playing on Switch Lite, my only experience with performance is in handheld mode. I’ve had minor incidents of slowdown during massive battles with enemies and projectiles flying all over the place, particularly against the witches in later stages. Also some occasional lag when switching weapons. Otherwise, the combat is as smooth as can be.

All in all, the excitement of fighting your way out of the depths of hell to earn new powers and abilities never gets old. The constant desire to see what the next chamber will offer is a powerful hook. You’re always wondering whether this is the build that will take you all the way to victory.

Even if you die, you won’t mind that much. Returning to the House of Hades lets you spend your ill-gotten gains, trade insults with your dad, and talk to your friends. Because dying leads to the other half of Hades’ brilliant equation: the story.

ALL THE UNDERWORLD’S A STAGE

Hades is not the kind of game you expect to have a deep focus on plot, characterization, and witty dialogue. Fully voiced, no less! And yet it does.

Every time you return home, the characters have new things to say, new threads of plot to unfurl. It’s these snippets of story that soften the blow of dying again and winding up right back where you started. Because home won’t be the same. You’ll see new interactions between characters. Gift someone with Nectar and your bond with them grows, often leading to new subplots further down the line. New faces will turn up as the story goes on. They won’t always be there when you return either. Characters come and go, reinforcing the sense that they have their own lives (or afterlives). They aren’t just hanging around for your benefit.

The same applies for everyone you meet while trekking through the diverse regions of the underworld. The Olympians will comment on your choice of weapon, the other gods you've met, the farthest you’ve gone, and more. It’s almost frightening, the number of things the game is keeping track of. I once lost to the final boss by a sliver of health; back home, Zagreus complained to Nyx that he’d been so close! Exactly what I was thinking. 

And there's just so much dialogue. It took me over twenty escape attempts before I ever heard someone repeat themselves. Even that was a generic line of filler. The actual narrative does not repeat; there's always something new. Apparently, the game has more spoken dialogue than the entire text of The Fellowship of the Ring. Which is a lot.

It helps that the characters have such distinct personalities. Despite his rebelliousness, Zagreus is courteous and concerned with his friends and family’s welfare. He also has some biting sarcasm and isn’t afraid to use it. Hades is full of bitterness, rage, and an iron sense of purpose, reminiscent of Kratos from God of War. Nyx is ethereal, an immensely powerful goddess in her own right. Achilles is a patient mentor, a former hero now past his prime. Skelly is a sentient skeleton who makes wisecracks in a Brooklyn accent, because why not?

The Olympians are similarly unique. Aphrodite is seductive, flirtatious, and quick to jealousy; Artemis is an introverted huntress who keeps her own company; Ares is a charming psychopath who delights in all the blood you’re shedding. Et cetera. The developers also made it a point to be inclusive in their character designs. Many are dark-skinned or Asian, not just the usual Caucasian stereotypes. It’s a refreshing take on Greek mythology. Their explanation makes sense too. If the gods rule over all the world, why should they only resemble the Greeks?

Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that they’re all hot as hell (pun totally intended).

There’s even a God Mode for more casual players. Not an easy mode per se, but one which lets you take increasingly less damage with every run, in case you’re getting frustrated with all the dying and just want to chat up the denizens of the underworld some more. It’s a testament to the developers’ dedication towards telling a good story.

AS LONG AS IT TAKES 

Supergiant Games is, I confess, not a developer I’d ever paid attention to. Oh, I’d heard good things about Bastion, but never picked it up. Hades makes them stand out on the map, most assuredly so. In this newest offering, they’ve created a masterpiece: the gorgeous level design, vast array of powers and weapons, and endlessly addictive combat. And of course, the quality of the writing.

At heart, Hades is a family drama. This is a story about people who’ve had an eternity to nurse old wounds; a tale of broken relationships and the struggle to heal and move forwards. Zagreus has heartfelt reasons for wanting to reach the surface. Hades’ anger and frustration with his unruly offspring belie deeper emotions. The dynamics between father, son, and the rest of their fractured family are far more complex than meets the eye. Amidst his unceasing battle to break free against impossible odds, Zagreus finds himself and his relationships with others forever changed along the way.

Really, I’m still coming up with good things to say here. From the nuanced storytelling to the epic gameplay to the insane replayability, this is one of the best games I’ve ever played. Hades absolutely deserves the nomination for Game of the Year. It’s got my vote. 

Played on Nintendo Switch Lite for over sixty hours and counting. Saw the credits roll after fifty-nine escape attempts. Favourite weapons: The Stygian Blade, the Heart-Seeking Bow, and the Eternal Spear.

Bella

The funny thing is that I was a cat person growing up.

Really. When I was seven, we had a black and white cat named Casper who roamed around our little apartment and the New Hampshire forest nearby. Then here in Sabah, a mother cat chose our house to smuggle her kittens into barely a week or two after our arrival. The dynasty was born. We must have had twenty cats over the years, an entire swarm of kittens at one point that would stampede when called. I liked cats, and still do. I only tolerated dogs.

All this to say that out of the many, many events of 2020, I did not expect to fall in love with a puppy.

This was Bella when we first got her. We had no idea what her breed was. Some strain of terrier? Collie? Obviously mixed, anyway. From the day my aunty brought her home in May, a tiny white bundle of fur, she grew on me.

We tried leaving her by herself at night, but she barked and whined the house down. So I took her up to my bedroom where she’d have some company. Maybe so that I would too. She’d flop on the wooden floor under the fan and go to sleep, safe and content.

She was horribly messy, as puppies always are. Poop and puddles everywhere. Eventually, we trained her to use mats near the bathroom. So much energy, this dog. Always running around the house. She was wary of the staircase at first, but soon learned to bound up and down with ease. When I left for work she’d jump up to the window to watch me leave; when I got back she’d hear the car and hop onto the couch to see me come in, her fluffy tail wagging like crazy. She loved to play and bit as many things as a teething puppy could. The house was livelier.

And then my mom passed away, and we just didn’t have time for a puppy. A wonderful family friend took Bella in for the next two months. We grieved and adjusted. Life went on.

Last month we bought Bella a shiny new cage and went to pick her up. She’d gotten longer, stockier. She’d made new doggy friends where she was staying. But her tail still wagged like crazy seeing us.

Now that she was bigger, I took her on long walks in the evenings. We visited my mom’s grave. She would stop and sniff the grass along the way, and happily roll around in the dirt. She was a little too popular with all the neighbouring dogs, most of them larger. I’d gather her up in my arms until we were somewhere safer. She was ever willing to be carried, and always happy to run off again when set down.

Until one day last week when she stopped eating. The next morning, she was vomiting and lying forlornly at the back of her cage. We brought her to the vet and learned about an illness called parvo, dubbed the puppy killer.

Highly contagious, it spreads from other dogs or their faeces and can be fatal for dogs under one year old. There is no cure. Treatment is limited to managing symptoms so that the dog can pull through on their own. Prevention is the best policy; the virus is covered in the normal vaccine cocktail that puppies are supposed to receive. Bella was only ten months old, and with my mom’s cancer growing worse, her passing, and the aftermath, we forgot all about vaccination.

Last week, Bella tested positive for the parvovirus. Suddenly she was fighting for her life.

Life is so fragile, isn’t it? Someone or something comes into our lives that we never expected and come to care for very much. But you never know when they’ll be taken from you. In this year of loss and grim prospects amid the pandemic, it seems more important than ever to remember that there’s a last time for everything. The last appointment my mom and me went for at the Oncology department before she was referred to Palliative. The last time she was able to walk down the stairs. The last birthday of hers we celebrated, a few days early, the night before she died.

Sometimes all the signs are there. You can see it coming. And other times death comes out of nowhere, reminding us of how fleeting our existence is.

Death doesn’t always come to take life away, though. My mom pulled through her emergency operation back in 2017, even with the complications that put her in the ICU. She did very well with the chemo that followed. We had another three years together after the cancer diagnosis. I’ll always be grateful for that.

Sometimes death only brushes our loved ones, reminding us not to take them for granted.

Thankfully, Bella’s illness was one of those times.

It took a few nights’ stay at the veterinary clinic, where she was put on a drip and antibiotics and liquid food. She grew noticeably thinner. But after a few days, she got her appetite back. We were able to take her home. With the virus defeated, all her boisterous energy returned. We'll get her vaccinated soon. She’s back to barking the house down and running around and wagging her fluffy white tail like crazy when I get back from work.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love a Little Further Down the Line

 Where do I begin?

It’s been a while since I did this. A few years have passed. I’m older now, and wiser too, I hope. But maybe I’m just more experienced, which isn’t always the same thing.

Today I’m talking about relationships.

Right, so. The last time I delved into this subject it was, by and large, from the perspective of a newbie. Now that I’ve known the person that I’m with for quite a while – five years and counting! – the vibe feels different.

Disney classics, romance novels, rom-coms. They all tend to focus on the same story: the early days. The passion, the tension, the highs and lows of a budding relationship. The emotions, baby. It’s something I was less aware of before, being caught up in them myself. But now it stands out like a sore thumb. In many ways, my relationship isn’t like that anymore. We’ve passed that stage. Now we’ve entered the phase of the familiar.

By which I mean: sometimes we really get on each other’s nerves.

There’s an innate novelty and joy in discovering another person. Learning about their likes and dislikes, their hopes and dreams, issues and anxieties. And after a while, you become used to each other. The passion fades. The bickering grows. You start wondering whether love can last.

It can, obviously. The catch is that love changes. We tend to associate love with the heady days of the honeymoon phase. But I’m starting to see that real love, the kind that lasts, is intentional.

Because sometimes you’re going to ask yourself: is this what love is supposed to feel like? Frustration with all the little quirks you once found endearing? Wondering why something that’s so easy for you is so hard for them, and vice versa? Saying stupid things in the heat of an argument and regretting them afterwards? Are you supposed to keep holding on to something that hurts?

In short, yes. Sometimes love is going to hurt.

And how you deal with that will make or break the relationship. Are you going to work on understanding each other’s differences? Admit that you were wrong and resolve to do better? Accept that there’s bound to be friction sometimes and a little conflict is healthy? Are you going to stick around when the going gets tough?

Or are you going to walk away?

Because that’s a valid option too.

Well, it is. My parents got divorced when I was six. Some of my earliest memories are of the two of them fighting. I’d be lying if I said that hasn’t influenced my outlook on life. If all your fights devolve into screaming matches; if talking to them feels like running into a brick wall; if your partner is gaslighting you, controlling you, being physically or emotionally abusive. These are all reasons to get the hell out.

But it could also be that you’ve outgrown each other. All relationships begin at a certain point in our lives and progress from there. If you’re lucky, the person you fall in love with will be someone you can build a future with. But if not – If the two of you are heading in different directions mentally, spiritually, or you know, geographically – it could be that holding on is worse than letting go.

Whichever path you take, there are consequences. This is what love comes down to, in the end: a choice.

We can’t have it all. Every decision means not doing something else. Or someone else. That’s what commitment is. You are choosing this person, the love of your life, your partner in crime, the future parent of your children, above all others. All I can say is to make sure you’re making the choice that’s right for you. Not anyone else. Not even your partner. If you genuinely want to be with this person, that’s great! If not, go do them a favour and leave.

Because life is really, really short. Next year I’ll be the same age my mom was when she got married. That’s crazy to me. If I live as long as she did, that means that nearly half my life is over. If I live until ninety, I’ve got another two-thirds. Or who knows, I could be hit by a bus next Tuesday.

However long we have on this earth, we have to make our own choices. Will the rest of our lives be worth living if we don’t?

So I guess this is a call to commitment. To your significant other, and to your future self, the person you’ll be a little further down the line. Invest in what you want to last. Put in the work to sustain the relationship. Love your partner by being a better partner.

As they say, actions speak louder than words. It’s not enough to say you love them. You’ve got to show them, too.

In Living Memory

 

It was a simple scrap of paper.

We were in her bedroom. I was looking through bags that hadn’t been touched in ages, pulling out odds and ends. She was still well enough to sit in the armchair and watch me through shallow breaths. Her lungs had been filling up with fluid since April, maybe March.

She’d saved all sorts of things over the years. Notebooks, old clothes, newspaper clippings. And this one little scene I’d scribbled in a notepad so long ago, doubtless in a moment of inspiration. I’d forgotten all about it, hadn’t thought of that character in years. But she’d kept it.

Bemused, I showed it to her. She looked back at me steadily.

“You don’t write anymore,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say.

I had written, you understand. A few blog posts here and there, long paragraphs in online forums. Thoughts about the pandemic, about civil unrest, about a game I’d been playing and the feelings it evoked. But I’d also been busy with work and personal problems and managing my own emotions. This year I no longer wrote most nights, not even for weeks at a time. I hadn't opened my fantasy novel in months. The lockdown, my birthday, Mother’s Day. Calendar pages racing by, counting down the time we had left.

She passed away six days later.

***

It’s been nearly two months now since my mom died. We’ve passed the forty-day mark, returning to our normal routines. We’ve begun to move on. This slow forgetting, it bothers me. I don’t want to leave her in the past. And yet I must. The past isn’t meant to be lived in.

My mom used to tell me about my ancestors. Our Kadazan heritage with some Chinese blood mixed in, and my father’s biological mother back in the US; she compiled part of my grandfather’s memoirs from World War II. I was never interested when I was younger. It was all so far in the past, after all. But now that she’s gone, it hits me that this is how my children (when I have them) will know her: through the stories I tell them. They won’t have anything else.

That phrase, in living memory. Now I understand how much it means. At what point is someone gone forever? When everyone who ever knew them is gone too?

You could say that death is the greatest motivator of all. What is the building of a legacy if not the desire to leave something behind? Is it because we know how little anything lasts? We live our fragile lives and then it’s over. The people that we were, the memories that we cherished. All those joys and loved ones and struggles and sorrows. It hits me now, so horribly real: this is what will happen to my mother. And to me someday. It will happen to you too. We will all be forgotten.

It’s funny. Until this point in my life, the present was always better than what came before. I rarely looked back and longed for the good old days. Now I do.

I want so desperately for her life to mean something.

***

I went to a local performing arts event the other day. It was inspiring, all the different performances and the raw emotions on display. Something else that spoke to me, though, was advice to the performers from an audience member afterward. A long-time participant in the local arts scene himself, he had this to say: don’t stop. Someday you’ll get to a point where you’re tired and wonder why you’re doing this. You’ll feel like you need a break from it all. And the people who walk away, sometimes they don’t come back.  

I felt that in my soul.

Sometimes I get tired, depressed, unmotivated. I feel like nothing I do makes a difference. But she was a writer herself. She wouldn’t have wanted me to stop. Not when there are experiences to share and stories to be told.

Perhaps this, then, is her legacy. Here I am, still trying to shape my thoughts and feelings into a form that others can understand. I’ve always wanted to inspire, to share what little wisdom I can. To talk about the things that matter.

I still remember walking down the road to the town library with my mom as a little boy, under autumn leaves and a New England sky; and all the other libraries since. All the years we went for lunch at a pizza place that shut down back in March due to the pandemic. Fitting enough that I’ll never go back. That time we waded in the ocean and watched the sun set over the islands. Going to the movies, walking through the forest, flying halfway around the world and back. All the travels and adventures and memories, happy and poignant and bittersweet.

All the ways I can try to put my love for her into words.

Mom's Eulogy

Dedicated to my mother, Clare Fiona Maluda, who passed away on August 10th, 2020 at 2:16pm. I read this at her funeral.

Good morning everyone, thank you all for coming. I'd like to begin with a verse from the First Epistle of Peter. 

'Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.' 

1 Peter 3:3-4 

My mother was a gentle and quiet spirit. She touched the world in many different ways. And she made her own choices in life, right until the end. 

Education mattered to her. Growing up, she was an excellent student. Her passion for learning led her to study all the way on the other side of the world in Massachusetts, where she graduated with a Master of Arts in Teaching. My mother always remembered her time there fondly. She loved the United States. I wouldn't be here otherwise. 

She was also the one who gave me my love of reading. Some of my fondest memories are of going to the library together, from New Hampshire back when I was a little boy to here in Sabah today. We’d borrow new books and go out for pizza and ice cream together. Looking back, it’s these little things that stand out the most. I’m glad that we made so many treasured memories. 

My mom also loved nature. She enjoyed gardening and being outdoors, and could grow anything under the sun. When I was young we went hiking and took long walks in the forest. We had our fair share of adventures. 

She would always encourage me with my writing, even though we had different interests. As a writer herself, she inspired me with the beauty of the written word. 

To her family, she was a daughter, sister, aunty, granddaughter, grandaunty, cousin, and niece. To others, she was a colleague and a friend. Kind and generous to a fault, she would never fail to put others first. She was a light in all of our lives. 

And to me, she was my mother. I love her more than words can say. She will be dearly missed. 

Thank you.

Rise of the Tomb Raider - Facing Death Itself

I’ve been playing Rise of the Tomb Raider on the weekends.

It’s a stunning sequel. After the events of the first game, Lara Croft has returned to civilization traumatized by what she saw on the island and what she did to survive. Delving into her late father’s legacy, she realizes that he was on the trail of something supernatural, even though the academic community decried him as a fraud. A villainous organization called Trinity seeks to use his research to find the Divine Source, an artifact which Byzantine legends claim can grant eternal life. So begins a race against time as Lara jets off to far-flung Siberia to reach the Source before Trinity does.

You travel through a world of snow-covered peaks, montane forests and long-lost ruins. The beauty of the wilderness is marred by grim relics of the Soviet Union and the more recent brutality of Trinity’s depredations. Conflict is never far, whether you’re sniping foes with a bow or blowing them away with a shotgun.

In between firefights, you run around scaling cliffs, leaping across chasms, and descending into the darkest depths of human history. Lara never slows down; she can’t. Even as she races towards her goal, she’s also running from herself. Once she was a frightened girl who was forced to grow into a survivor. But what is she now?

A series of recorded therapy sessions after the island illustrates this. At one point the therapist asks if she liked taking control. Lara grows defensive; she had no choice, she says. It was all to save herself and her friends. She had to act, to fight back, to become a killer. The recording ends with the comment that Lara may have to face a hard truth about the person she’s become.

That was when I put the controller down and thought about why I’m playing this game. What does it mean to take control?

***

I’ve always loved video games. I’ve often felt their seductive pull, ignoring the real world for the fantasy they create. And I’ve noticed that I play the most when there’s something on my mind. As Nir Eyal put it in Indistractable, you can’t call something a distraction unless you know what it’s distracting you from.

We live in uncertain times. The year is only half gone, but so much has happened in 2020. We’ve all been confronted by an illness that can strike without warning, a faltering economy, and the turmoil of mass protests against racial injustice that have gripped the world.

And my mom’s cancer is getting worse.

I’m 29 years old now. Looking back, I’ve grown so much in my twenties. I’ve pushed my own limits, done things I only dreamed about when I was younger. Some days I still wish that the years had played out differently. Other times I remind myself that every step has led me to be the man I am today. This is my life, for better or worse.

But nothing prepares you for a parent reaching the end of theirs.

***

In Rise of the Tomb Raider, Lara comes to terms with her father’s death. But her actions hold shades of grey. At one point, she fights off a horde of enemies attempting to break into an ancient sanctum – only to rip the door open herself. Trinity believes theirs is a noble goal and will use any means to reach it. Just how different is Lara, in the end? How ruthless has she become?

I haven’t finished the game. I don’t know how it all ends. But I can relate to wanting to fight the inevitable.

It’s comforting to step into the role of the heroine. Delving into long-forgotten tombs, evading traps and solving puzzles. Ambushing bad guys from the shadows, hurling Molotov cocktails for fiery explosions. Finally gathering enough Byzantine gold to trade for a military-grade assault rifle. Saving the day with her superior skills and acumen and defiance of impossible odds, facing down death itself.

We all want to believe in the illusion of control.

Because in reality, whether it’s a bolt from the blue or a slow decline, someday the family who raised us will fade away. No longer children, we’ll be left with the legacy of who they were and what they left behind on this earth.

And it will be up to us to find the strength to carry on in their stead.

 

 

Barely Breathing

Protests rage across America.

Riots broke out last week following the death of George Floyd, an African American man detained by a white police officer who knelt on his neck for almost nine minutes. It was only the latest of many, many, many incidents of police brutality towards African Americans. The anger spread like wildfire. People across the country, and the world, stood up to proclaim that Black Lives Matter. 

Delinquents and anarchists took advantage of the protests, looting and burning with abandon. Some police officers responded with the same violence they were condemned for, firing tear gas and rubber bullets into crowds at point blank range. Curfews were announced. The National Guard was called in. Protesters have been killed.

Over 100,000 Americans have died from the COVID-19 pandemic. 40 million more are unemployed. And the country is led by a man who had peaceful protestors cleared away from the White House by force so that he could stand in front of a church, hold up a Bible for the cameras, and pretend he gives a shit about Christian values. 

Welcome to the USA in 2020.

***

My mother loved the United States. She flew across the world to further her education in Massachusetts. She fell in love, got married, and had me. We haven’t lived in the US for over twenty years, but she remembers. To this day, she talks about me going back.

My father once called the United States the most uncivilized civilized country in the world. A true blue Democrat, over the years he’s told me about the unthinking greed and ignorance that causes the worst kind of human behaviour, and how he saw it driving the nation’s increasingly polarized politics.

And then there’s me, the product of these two very different views of the United States. I’ve talked about my ambivalence towards the US before. I wonder whether I should even be saying anything at all. But I’ve decided that I should. As someone born in the United States; as a person of mixed heritage. And as a human being.

Because I wonder: if I’d been raised in the US, would I have grown up with white privilege? Probably. My skin is light enough. Then again, so many people say I look Chinese. It would be truly ironic if I went back to the US and people there started calling me Asian.

One thing’s for sure: I’ve never had to worry about being harassed by police officers just because of how I look. I’ve never had to fear being attacked because people saw me as a threat. I’ve never had to deal with a system of racial and cultural oppression that went from slavery to segregation to ingrained prejudices that still have yet to die. I’ve never had to face the sheer injustice of being born into a country that stifles the person that you are.

No one deserves to live like they're barely breathing.

Racism is not just an American thing. It’s a human thing. One of our darkest tendencies, to mistreat others based on how they look and dress and what faith they follow. To think in terms of us and them. Will we ever change, or are we doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes until the end of time?

I can only add my voice to the chorus. The time to change is now.

To everyone out there marching for a better world and a brighter future: good luck and Godspeed. 

A Mother's Love

Love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. 

– JK Rowling

It’s Mother’s Day today. Flowers are pretty and chocolates are sweet, but this year I’d like to offer something with a little more permanence. That’s the great thing about writing. It allows us to express our thoughts, feelings, and memories in a form that will last. 

Today I’m talking about my mom. 

***

A mother’s love is like no other. It can be wildfire, consuming all that stands in its path. It can be the warmth we seek when our days grow cold. It can be a stubborn faith that believes in us against all odds. 

As children, our mothers are the centre of our existence. They feed us, bathe us, and smile (or growl) at the messes we make. They make us lunch and fold our laundry and sew up the holes in our blankets. They hold us when we cry over a cut finger or a skinned knee. They kiss us good night. Time passes, ages to us but only a scant few years to them. 

As teenagers, we become aware of ourselves and our burgeoning adulthood. Now we crave – we demand! – our independence. Walls appear that were never there before as we distance ourselves from the children we were and the mothers who seem intent on treating us as such. The love which was so sweet before has grown stifling. 

As young adults, we forge our own paths into the future. Our mothers are now just one part of the complicated tapestry of our lives. We think of them fondly when we have the time. Perhaps we fail to recognise how their hair has thinned and their hands have grown wrinkled. Until one day, something shocks us into awareness, and we discover anew the love that was there all along.

*** 

Anne Frank said that regret is stronger than gratitude. That’s human nature for you. We only appreciate what we have when we realise that it won't be around forever. Now is the time to be thankful for our loved ones. And to tell them too!  

So to my grandmother, my aunties, my older cousins, and most importantly, my mom: thank you for all the goodness you've brought into my life. It means the world to me.

Today is the day to think about our mothers. Give them a hug, bake them a cake, do something special. Show your love in a way that’s meaningful to you and her. Maybe even put it in writing. 

Love you, mom. 

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

Three Tips For Staying Sane While Staying At Home

Here we are, still in quarantine.

By now we’ve adjusted to the movement control order. COVID-19 continues to wreak havoc on the world, though here in Malaysia the preventative measures seem to be working. We’re lucky that both our government and the public at large are taking this seriously, doing what needs to be done. That isn’t the case in other parts of the world.

The global economy is taking a nosedive, that’s for sure. Millions of jobs lost and opportunities no longer available, entire industries like tourism massively affected. Scary times ahead. The puzzle pieces of our old lives have been scattered, and it’s harder than ever to predict what the future will look like. 

During these troubled times, practical quarantine advice is all over the internet. How to stick to a routine; to stay connected with friends and family; to relax without wearing a butt-shaped groove into the couch. (Who am I kidding, you’ve probably done that already.) Today I want to talk about how we’re thinking while we’re all stuck indoors. Among the many crises ahead of us, mental health isn’t one to be taken for granted.

Today I’m talking about perspective.

Here are three tips for staying sane while staying at home.

1. Check your expectations.

I daresay most of us want to make this time worthwhile, whether that means focusing on our families, learning new skills, or building the perfect island in Animal Crossing. But it can be hard to escape the nagging feeling that we’re not doing enough. We’re contradictory creatures, humans. We dream about having more free time, yet in excess it becomes overwhelming. What was once an oasis in our busy lives stretches out into an ocean of eternity.

Here’s a reminder that we’re in uncharted waters here. In life and in quarantine, no one knows what they’re doing. Everyone’s trying to keep from going under. Don’t beat yourself up for whatever you haven’t done; focus on what you’re doing right now. Take a deep breath and keep swimming.

2. Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

I’ve always been in the ‘If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well’ camp. But this opposing quote makes a lot of sense. You don’t need to give 110%. Giving 50% (heck, even 20%) is still better than not doing the thing at all. The irony of perfectionism is that this is often what happens. We’re so wrapped up in our desire for things to be exactly the way we want that we become paralyzed by the need for perfection. We burn out before we even begin. Kind of sad, don’t you think?

To put it another way, we must accept doing things badly before we can ever do them well. In a results-oriented world, it can be hard to credit anything less than success. But whether it’s a wonky chord, a messy paragraph, or a loaf of burned bread, our efforts build up over time. We learn through failure.

If you’re working on new skills or long-neglected hobbies during the lockdown, don’t be discouraged by poor results. It’s all part of the process.

3. Reflect on what normality means to you. 

When the quarantine is over and the virus has been defeated, we’ll enter the new normal: a world of grim economic prospects, social distancing, and refraining from shaking people’s hands. It will probably take years to get back to the way things were before. 

But think about whether the old version of normality was working. Were you making enough time for your family? Were you working on personal goals or constantly putting them off for tomorrow? Were you getting enough rest, not just getting sucked into a morass of scrolling social media every night?

Too often in the world, what’s normal is decided by inertia. Now is the time to reflect. Breathe, meditate, journal. What do you want to carry forwards and what deserves to be left behind?  

When we piece the puzzle of our lives back together, it’s up to us to decide how we want the future to look. 

Year of the Virus

Here we are in quarantine.

It’s a scary time to be alive. Pandemics don’t just happen every day. Right now, we’re living through a period that will go down in history for its global repercussions and economic fallout. Staying at home is cool and socially responsible now. Washing your hands, sitting on your couch, avoiding other people? You’re saving the day, my friend.

No really, I mean that. This is the best thing we can do right now. We need to stop the virus in its tracks, to cut off the chain of infections. Practicing social distancing is the smart thing to do. Ignoring the medical advice and warnings from the authorities and mounting casualties from around the world…

Yeah, not smart.

So we sit at home, confined to our tiny kingdoms. Extroverts suffer and introverts rejoice until they start feeling the strain as well. People need people, it’s how we’re wired. Now more than ever is a time to appreciate the power of the internet. Video calls, text messaging, online communities. These are the things that get us through the days. We’re all in one big long-distance relationship now.

When we do venture out for food or essential work, masks on and hand sanitizer at the ready, we find a world far quieter than the one we remembered. Buildings shuttered, roads empty of traffic. Queues and temperature checks at the pharmacies and supermarkets. We see pictures online of unpolluted skies and sparkling rivers, wild animals venturing into deserted streets. Nature is finally getting a chance to catch her breath.

To be honest, I kind of like it.

Not the circumstances, to be sure. But I like having the time to be still. This feels like my mother’s chemo, those long days at her bedside in the hospital ward, reading books and playing with my phone and staring out the window. Torn between fear and anxiety and distraction and boredom. Hoping modern medicine will prevail against an illness that struck out of nowhere.

Here we are in quarantine. It’s a time to slow down, to consider what’s working in our lives and what we’re better off without. To strengthen our relationships while we have the chance. To play games and solve puzzles and exercise together. Time to pick up new skills or improve existing ones, cooking and baking and indoor gardening. Learning a language, playing an instrument, taking up drawing again. Time to read books and binge Netflix and clear out your video game backlog.

Time to maintain a daily routine. To show up for work on time even when you’re working from your bedroom. To take deep breaths when your kids are screaming, the walls are closing in, and the future is more uncertain than ever. Time for prayer and meditation. We all need something to believe in right now.

Time to keep calm and carry on, because this isn’t over yet.

So I sit here at 10:30pm, typing this out to My Chemical Romance playing in the background, thinking absently that The Black Parade is one of the best albums ever made. Danger Days isn’t bad either. I wonder how long it will take before the virus is defeated, and what the world will look like when that happens.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

How To Stop Screwing Your Future Self

Ah, procrastination. We’ve all been there. We mean to be productive individuals. Instead, we spend three hours liking memes and spiraling down the endless rabbit hole of the internet, while what we intended to do morphs into what we’ll do tomorrow: that magical place where work gets done and goals are achieved. 

So we pass the responsibility off onto our future selves, dusting our hands of the affair. Past You is the screw-up who got you into this mess and Present You just doesn’t have the time to fix it. But Future You, now there’s the hero (or heroine) of the day. That’s the version of yourself who has it all together.

Unfortunately, this kind of thinking is just screwing ourselves over. Because tomorrow doesn’t exist. There is only ever today.

Today I’m talking about how to stop procrastinating all the damn time. 

Like many of you out there, I put stuff off. There are tasks which I know I should do but don’t until they’re absolutely critical; until someone calls me out on them; or most troublingly, until I never do the thing at all. Everyone likes to believe in the promise of someday, which is but a cheerful façade over the grim reality of never.

It’s avoiding responsibility, having fun without care for the consequences. Checking out mentally when I should be paying attention. Failing to plan because ugh, plans, right? So much easier to mess around on my phone instead. Failing to act when I have the chance.

Then when the shit hits the fan (as it does) and I have to deal with the fallout of yesterday, I look back at my past self and wonder, what the heck were they thinking? Were they thinking at all? It’s a distinct blend of disappointment, guilt, even self-loathing. Because on a core level, I know that I have made my own life harder. These are issues I could have handled differently. The consequences are no one else’s fault but mine.

And it works both ways. When I do get my act together, avoiding distractions and getting my tasks done on time, I look back at my past self with gratitude. They made the right choices, taking care of business so I don’t have to. They’ve made my life easier.

Because here’s the thing: Future You is just you five seconds later.

We fool ourselves into believing that we’ll act differently after an arbitrary time interval. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. But for all of us, there is only ever now. This moment is the only point in time when you exist.

Read that again. 

Procrastination is a complicated issue. Despite what judgmental people say, it’s not about laziness. Putting things off is more often rooted in issues like anxiety, lack of motivation, and the inability to delay gratification. Facing the future can be hard. But we have to start somewhere.

A lot of writers I respect have come to similar conclusions. Mark Manson’s Do Something Principle; James Clear’s assertion that good habits have costs in the present and payoffs in the future, whereas bad habits have payoffs in the present at the expense of the future; and Tim Urban’s realization that life is a series of Wednesdays repeated over and over.

The core of all that is the way we pretend that putting stuff off hurts no one? It isn’t true. When we procrastinate, we’re hurting ourselves, piling the weight onto our future self’s shoulders instead of working to keep it manageable. 

We’re all haunted by the ghosts of yesterday, dazzled by visions of tomorrow. But getting things done is all about doing what we can today.

Might as well start now, huh?

The Most Important Thing I Learned in 2019

We are all incredibly flawed human beings.

Everyone has their own issues, their own baggage. What seems effortless for one person requires a monumental struggle for another. Everyone has their own modus operandi when it comes to life. Everyone has their own truths, forged from the joy and pain of their experiences. Sometimes they’re right, and those lessons have served them well.

Other times their experiences screw them up.

But even that’s an overly simplistic way of looking at it. Life is complicated, and every event can no longer hold the significance it once did. That chapter is over; it’s time to move on. What the next phase will be is anyone’s guess. We can only hope it will be better than the last one.

David Foster Wallace wrote a great deal about the banality of human existence. The vast majority of life is boring. We go to the same job, follow the same routines day after day. We dream about change. It feels fantastic when we get it. And after a while, we find that we’re no longer as thrilled as we once were. So we start to dream about something else. 

Every ending...

At the beginning of last year, I talked a lot about change. I was sick of the same old flaws and wanted to do better. But what happens when the newness becomes normal? When you’re once again doing the same things every day? When you slide back into old habits because it feels as though the new ones made no difference?

Today I’m talking about what 2019 meant to me. 

Ironically enough, last year was full of changes. It was a year marked by shifting roles and greater responsibilities at work. By crises and tragedies that came out of nowhere, for all that they seem obvious in hindsight.

It was a year of rekindling relationships with people I’d once been closer to. Some surprised me by stepping forward to balance old grievances. For some, changing circumstances made me realize how important it is to appreciate the ones you care about. And for others, maybe the embers were always there, just waiting to light themselves anew.

At the same time, it was a year of backsliding. Of falling back into old habits and struggling to find the motivation or discipline for new ones. Last year I’d completed the first draft of Wraithblade. This year, I still haven’t finished the second. I haven’t written much over the previous several months, something I attribute to one-third unavoidable circumstances (the holidays charging up like a herd of stampeding reindeer); one-third depression, anxiety, and burnout; and one-third throwing up my hands and deciding to go read or play video games instead.

It was a year that went by frighteningly fast.

But perhaps most importantly, it was a year where I understood that our failings make us human. 

For me, 2019 was about accepting my limits.

When I was younger, I talked a lot about lessons learned, the things I know now which make me better at this whole Adult Life game we’re all playing. Last year, though, I began to accept how much I don’t know.

I don’t know how much I don’t know, for starters. We assume we know things because this is the illusion our brains manufacture, the veneer of assuredness with which we make our way through the world. Look closer, and we discover how much of that knowledge comes down to convenient labels. Practicality serves us well. But what are the names of the plants in your garden? How does your television work? Why do you love the people you love?

What’s happening behind your eyes as you read these words? How did I transfer this meaning from my mind to yours? 

I can seek the answers to all these questions, but there will always be more. There will always be things I don’t know. I guess I’m starting to accept that.

I also don’t know how much time we have left. Last year, someone I knew who should have lived another thirty years passed away. Someone barely out of their teens went through chemo. And despite her cancer, my mother is still with us. It’s a humbling thought, one that can only be answered with sorrow and gratitude. None of us lives forever.

And finally, I don’t know what the future holds. I can make educated guesses, sure. I can decide what I want and pursue the goals and habits needed. Last year I didn’t do so well at these; just got to keep trying. But we’re still blindsided with evolving desires, relationships, and situations. Part of life will always be hidden from us until it happens.

-shrug-

I guess that’s where the fun begins.

All we can do is move forward. That’s the one constant in life: it goes on. We can only accept our limits and strive to get better as we go.

...is another new beginning.

So here’s to 2019 and whatever it meant to you. We’re in a new decade now, on the verge of a whole new phase of our lives. The time is now - just like it always is.

Eyes on 2020, people. Here we go, into the unknown. Good luck and Godspeed.