pong!
on nothing very much in particular.
My neighbours either really love mahjong, or I actually live next to a tiny gambling den. I have no idea which it is; I have nothing else to go on apart from the clacking and clattering of mahjong tiles being shuffled that I hear most days. I used to think it sounded similar to the noise of our cats pawing around in their litter boxes, but my ears seem to have learnt to distinguish the nuances in cadence (and implications thereof—I don’t have to clean if it’s mahjong).
Sometimes, just for a little bit of fun, I imagine that the aunties and uncles are part of a sophisticated criminal syndicate; that, in the middle of this typical “heartlands” neighbourhood, serious sums of money are changing hands across the worn green fabric of the mahjong table. Millions of dollars laundered by the stout, wrinkly fingers of an auntie who makes people jump when she calls “pong!”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a fan of organised crime. I just think it would be kind of funny, in a Stephen Chow movie sort of way, if the bosses of Singapore’s most badass gambling ring were actually an elderly couple in an HDB flat whose much-used mahjong table doubles up as a dining table in the common corridor when the grandkids visit during the Lunar New Year.
…
…
For legal reasons, I should probably make clear that my neighbours aren’t criminal masterminds running an Active Ageing-themed gambling den. I’m just making stuff up as a joke.
I think.
I’m writing this because Parliament was dissolved and the writ of election issued today. It’s only been 28 days since the drastically changed electoral boundaries were released, and now we’re sprinting to Polling Day on 3 May. There’s going to be a deluge of campaign slogans, speeches, rallies, news reports, commentaries, drama, excitement and outrage. I’ll be wading through them for We, The Citizens, pushing myself for speed, consistency and clarity. Pushing myself to say useful, intelligent things from now until Cooling Off Day.
I’ve sent out three GE2025 special issues already—the last one just this morning—and have a fourth sloshing in my head. I was going to outline and start writing it tonight but lost momentum by the time I’d got home. I briefly considered making myself sit down and bash it out anyway, but decided against it because there’ll be plenty of time to be overworked and overwhelmed over the next few weeks.
Which brings me to where I am now: lying in bed with a big Tiger Balm plaster on the left side of my neck (because I managed to give myself a crick in the neck while sleeping last night), coming up with fanciful Infernal Affairs-esque plots for innocent senior citizens who just really (like, really really) like mahjong. It’s a heck of a lot more fun than thinking about how GE2025 might turn out. A lot more unpredictable, too.
I’ve also been looking back on previous issues of this tiny newsletter… it’s been pretty grim, hasn’t it? Much of it is about how fucked up the world is, or how I’m dealing with burnout or mess or anger and grief. Maybe this shouldn’t be the Wordy Kirst newsletter. Maybe I should have just called it The Struggle Bus. Sorry.
I didn’t mean to make this newsletter so dreary. It just turned out that these are the things I’m working through at this stage in my life, and this newsletter is giving me the space to do this processing. I’m someone who needs words to sort things out; even if I’m not saying things out loud to someone else, I need to say it in my head. Somehow or other, thoughts and emotions need to be articulated before my body and mind can be settled and soothed. This never-ending need to narrate my life to myself might not make sense, but…
This has been a bit of a pointless meander of a blog/newsletter (blewsletter). But I’m making the most of this opportunity to let my mind wander, to fritter brain cells on things that are inconsequential but fun. I’ll need to be focused, incisive and careful very soon. The more rested and relieved I feel now, the better I can meet those demands later. Thank God I’m finally grasping this important self-care practice.