Why Would I Write

Category: Thoughts

  • Skill Expression

    I need to use AI at work.

    That’s just the reality of how it is right now.

    If I don’t use it, I fall behind. I don’t have a supercomputer in my head that allows me to skip using AI. I’m not a genius. So I use it.

    In a professional context, that makes sense; especially when your work requires efficient output.

    The more I use AI for work, the more I worry about its impact on me. I can already feel my writing skills atrophying, and it bothers me.

    The moments where I’d sit with a problem and slowly work it out have been replaced with me typing prompts. I’ll admit, it’s useful. It saves me a lot of time. But I also recognize that trying to write a post completely on my own is now a struggle and that’s scary.

    There’s a common argument that AI art is just the next step in democratized tools.

    Photography made image-making more accessible. Digital art removed the cost of materials. Creative software let more people participate. Everyone can do it now. Everyone can share their experiences. And those experiences are part of what art is.

    I actually agree with that.

    Tools becoming more accessible is good. Lowering barriers is good. More people expressing themselves is good.

    But something important gets lost in the jump from “accessible tools” to “AI that generates the result for you.”

    Traditional tools, even digital ones are extensions of your hands. They require your taste, your decisions, your time, your frustration. And the whole learning process, mistakes included.

    Beyond the ethics of art being trained on stolen work (this post isn’t about that), I’m addressing people who use AI entirely to replace the experience (of making art, writing, music etc).

    If you’re looking for some well-put-together takes on AI, check out these videos

    Another justification I see a lot is that criticizing AI art is ableist.

    The argument goes: not everyone has the time, physical ability, or cognitive capacity to develop traditional artistic skills. AI allows them to participate. It levels the playing field.

    I understand why that resonates. But I don’t think the alternative to “you can’t physically draw” is “a machine does it entirely for you.”

    Art has always adapted. There are tools, techniques, accommodations, collaboration, different mediums. Expression isn’t limited to one physical pathway.

    What makes art meaningful isn’t that it was hard in a universal sense. It’s that it required something from the person making it. Their perspective, limitations and problem-solving techniques. Everyone struggles and approaches something differently.

    But removing the struggle entirely, removes the need to develop skill or to make decisions beyond a prompt, and changes the nature of what’s being expressed.

    And I don’t think it’s ableist to say that the process matters. For me, it is the entire point.

    The journey. The struggle. The learning. The capturing of a moment in time.

    When I look at something I made years ago, I don’t just see the result. I see who I was when I made it. What I knew. What I didn’t know. The mistakes I couldn’t see yet. The things I was proud of that I’d do differently now.

    It’s a memento.

    Skill expression isn’t about proving I’m talented. It’s about documenting growth.

    Every piece is evidence of effort, a record of time spent, and a reminder that I cared enough to get better. That’s what makes it purposeful.

    If I outsource the hard part, I’m not just saving time. I’m removing the part of me that changes.

    Art, to me, isn’t only about producing an impressive image or song or story. It’s the whole expedition it takes to get there.

    Sometimes it is slow, frustrating and even embarrassing. But that’s the whole point. When you overcome a challenge, you change, for better or worse.

    Sometimes you have something to be happy about, or even proud of. Sometimes you end up with nothing, and that’s okay too. It’s just one rep of many. You’re just practicing for the future. You put in the effort and you learn from it.

    Using AI at work consistently has already shown me how easy it is to let parts of my brain deteriorate.

    When there’s no friction, you don’t learn anything. You retain less information, you become a little dumber, too.

    Maybe that’s fine when the goal is efficiency.

    Art is one of the few spaces in my life where I’m not trying to optimize. I’m not trying to scale. I’m not trying to compete with someone else’s speed.

    I’m just trying to get better than I was. Heck, sometimes not even that. I just enjoy creating so much that I keep doing it.

    If I let AI take over that space too, I’m giving up a huge part of me.

    Art isn’t essential to my survival.

    I don’t need it to pay my rent. I don’t need it to meet a deadline.

    I do it because I enjoy the ordeal. I enjoy struggling through something and coming out the other side slightly better than before. That improvement is slow, sometimes invisible and sometimes humbling.

    And I’m okay with that.

    I use AI when it makes sense. To speed up my workflow or polish my grammar. But when it comes to my art, I’m not looking for a shortcut. I don’t want the work done for me, because for me, the work is the point.

    The 12 drawings throughout this post were inspired by DREWSCAPE’s video on making custom art styles for comics. With each drawing, I tried to (poorly) capture the style of an artist I admire. Super fun exercise I recommend every artist to try out!
    1. Gipi
    2. Paolo Parante
    3. Steve Emond
    4. RK Post
    5. Baka Arts
    6. Kentaro Miura
    7. Roman Muradov
    8. Quetin Blake
    9. Angryfrog
    10. Monster and Beer
    11. Adventure Time
    12. Master Tingus

  • I guess we’re back (to smoking cigarettes now)

    I guess we’re back (to smoking cigarettes now)

    It would be easy to write a year-end recap about how 2025 went.

    But that’s not really what I like to do. Simple is boring. Predictable. I already do that for my music, and I don’t need to do it here too.

    Besides, everyone could write the same recap. We all got better at something, worse at others, and rebalanced our lives as priorities shifted. Some things became more important, others less so.

    That’s just how life is. A series of choices. What did we sacrifice to gain something else?

    There’s one thing everybody has in common: time. We all spent the same 24 hours a day and arrived at the same point – the end of 2025. We just used that time differently and took steps toward different goals and dreams.

    There’s no right or wrong way to spend time. Life is what you make it. It can be as pressure-cooker as you want it to be, or as chill as you want. Either way, it’s your decision.

    There’s no reason we can’t start things now instead of waiting for next year. Having a fixed point of 365 days to look back on just makes things neater. Otherwise, it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes a year is too long and gets daunting.

    If I had told myself that I wouldn’t stop gymming every week for a full year, I don’t think I could have done it. The fact that I’ve kept it up for almost three years now makes me think, wow, it’s not so hard after all.

    I wasn’t even aiming to do it. I was just taking things a week at a time. Those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years.

    If I had set out with that goal in mind from the start, it probably would’ve felt overwhelming. Nobody really sets a three-year plan unless you’re a business owner. You take it a day at a time, it turns into weeks, then months, and sometimes years.

    Last year, after moving my guitar into my room, I started playing a lot more. That one small change made all the difference. Being able to reach for my guitar while sitting at my desk meant I picked it up more often.

    Before that, I would only play when I felt inspired or when I had a show to practice for. Now that it’s within arm’s reach, I just pick it up and play when I can.

    That led to the creation of three songs this year, with a couple more in the works. I’ve made more new music in the past year than I’ve done in the past few years. I could write about how I managed to write three songs this year, but wouldn’t it be more interesting to talk about what I learnt during the process, and what actually made it work?

    Of course, there were trade-offs. I played live music less. I’ve been more keen on writing and recording music in my bedroom — partly because I get to do it with an electric guitar, which I love, but mostly because I enjoy being home by 10pm these days.

    I spent a lot less time hanging out and chilling as well. Wanting to be home by 10 feels weird. Is it an old man thing? Who knows. That’s just how I’ve been.

    That said, I’ll be playing my next show in a week at Merdekarya, so do come check it out. More details coming soon.

    I also got myself a drawing display, which reignited my spark for drawing. I haven’t done much beyond the usual Inktober, but it made me think I’d probably draw a lot more in the future. I also made my first video essay.

    I churned out 30 days of art this year. I wasn’t even planning to do it. I just did it because of a friend’s suggestion. The best part is that I learnt a lot from it. Mainly, that it’s better to have something out than nothing at all.

    You could have a thousand great ideas, but if they never materialise, they might as well not exist.

    I’m firmly in the camp that it’s better to finish something and put it out there now. You can always come back and revise it later. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be complete.

    Nothing is stopping you from improving something later, or from moving on to something else. It’s not like you pressed a thousand vinyls that are now stuck in a warehouse forever. You can fix things in post. Even movies, music, and games do it now — with remasters, remakes, rerecordings, Taylor’s version, and so on.

    If you don’t start, you can’t finish. And if you don’t finish, you won’t know what you need to improve. I really resonate with Nike’s slogan, “Just do it,” even though I don’t own any Nike products myself.

    I travelled to a few places this year. I went to India for the first time for a friend’s wedding. People are always impressed when you wear traditional clothes from their culture. Something about it turns you into a beacon of attention.

    You also learn that different parts of a country can be very different from what you see online. We were holed up in a nice part of the country, right next to the coast. Peaceful. Serene. No shitting in the streets or dirty food. My impression of India is based on that experience, not what the algorithm has fed me.

    Travel also made me realise that I’m not reliant on cigarettes. I travelled to two countries where I couldn’t bring my vape, so I had to switch to smokes for those periods. I thought it would bring back my smoking habit, but after going through that twice, I now think I’m addicted to vaping instead. Vaping is superior.

    Flavour, smell, experience. Everything. I don’t know if I’m going to have jelly in my lungs, but whatever. I hope it doesn’t get banned. If they ban vaping because it’s bad, they should ban cigarettes too. Get the whole country off it. Everybody should suffer at the same time.

    Travelling also taught me that my girlfriend and I are very compatible. Being able to stand each other’s company for two weeks straight can only mean good things. We’re both easygoing and spontaneous enough that doing nothing or doing something is equally fine.

    Not once was there any conflict on the trip. She tolerates my inability to tolerate the cold. What a trooper. I love her.

    Wants and needs change all the time. Earlier this year, I was pining for a walnut SG guitar. In the end, I decided against it. That feeling went away, and I don’t want one anymore.

    I’m happy sticking with the two guitars I already own. I haven’t even maximised their potential yet.

    Dogs continue to be amazing creatures. While I don’t have the capacity to take care of one at the moment, I’ll give my love to the ones I get to meet.

    It’s always good to get rid of junk from your room. I did a massive room-clearing session in early 2025, and I’m due for another one. Why do we keep boxes? Why do I keep boxes? They just pile up nonstop.

    I found a cheaper alternative to a 30k hair transplant: 12k. Still not cheap, but at least now I know. My white beard hairs aren’t going away either. I also learnt the usefulness of hairspray and salt spray. And hair perms are pretty cool.

    Relying on AI to write has hampered my writing ability, but it’s become a requirement at work, so I’ve had to embrace it. I’ve completely changed my workflows to accommodate AI.

    It helps cut out menial tasks, but people who rely on AI won’t be able to do the work on their own in the future. I know because I feel it.

    Immodium is great for easily upset tummies. I keep a stash with me at all times.

    Waking up early is actually great too. I won’t say I wish I had started earlier, but it’s something I hope to keep up. Sleeping is still fun.

    Things that broke this year: my toilet handle, car brakes, and engine cooling fan. It feels like you should always be prepared to spend money, especially around bonus time.

    I attended my school alumni reunion for the first time since I graduated. Some people you can reconnect with immediately, like you never stopped chatting.

    Others fade the less you talk to them. Not saying everybody needs to keep in touch all the time, but don’t be surprised when people disappear if nobody makes the effort.

    I guess this is also a good place to say that I started this blog in 2025 and finished it in 2026. A day late. But I finished it. And that’s kind of the whole point. I could’ve left it sitting in my notes forever, half-written and unfinished, but instead I put it out.

    It’s not perfect, but it’s complete. Finishing something matters a lot more than finishing it on time. Except when it’s your job. Good thing writing this blog isn’t my job.

  • Active, Conscious Appreciation

    Active, Conscious Appreciation

    The other day in the plane, looking out the window at night, seeing KL lit up made me realize how much electricity we use. Which got me thinking about how different life would be without it, something we utterly take for granted. Imagine a life without electricity: no computers, no phones, no TV, no fans, all the things we take for granted.

    It highlights the difference between abundance and scarcity, too. When the toothpaste tube is still new, it’s something you don’t think about. But when you’re reaching the end, you’re thinking, how long can I make this last? Do I really need that much?

    Then I started thinking about all the things we take for granted in life. We take life itself for granted.

    Like when I wake up every morning, I don’t think, “Oh, shit, I’m so glad I’m alive.” I don’t even think about it. Instead, I think, “Fuck, why do I have to get up?” I’m not thankful that I have work to do, things to look forward to; a purpose in life.

    I wake up simply because I have things to do. I take for granted the ability to do them: to drive to the office, speak to people, make decisions, and carry out my tasks. I don’t consider that I could be someone without those abilities or things to look forward to, because it happens all the time, and I never stop to think about it.

    I realized I used to take for granted things like my safety before I was mugged. It took me years before I felt safe to walk the streets with headphones on again.

    And it’s not just personal abilities. We take for granted that the buildings beneath our feet don’t crumble. It would be strange, but not impossible, for the building I’m in to be leveled to the ground. Where would I go? How would I escape?

    We take for granted our ability to breathe, to see, to read, to control our hands. To type, to write, to move, to talk – everything. It can all just disappear one day.

    What I’m trying to get at is this: we take a lot of things for granted, and that’s not a bad thing. We just have to be cognizant of the fact that we could lose any or all of those things at any time.

    I guess now that I’ve put it down into words, I’ve acknowledged what I’m thankful for, and I’m glad. That’s probably enough. No point worrying about every single thing. I guess there’s a balance.

    Like my favorite chicken rice store in the neighborhood. Over the past year, he was constantly moving locations, closing and reopening his shop in different spots, some better than others. He finally caught a lucky break with a spot in a decent kopitiam.

    He told me the kopitiam owner had invited him and given him a good rental rate. The spot was perfect: tons of tables, a roof so people could eat even when it was raining, and a healthy ecosystem with other stalls, but no other chicken rice. Plus, the drinks were handled by the kopitiam.

    Dude was super happy about moving there. I don’t remember exactly how long after he moved, but it must have been only a few weeks: I saw him, fine and dandy, on a Thursday. Two days later, I read the news of his passing in a community Facebook group.

    Apparently, he passed out while setting up the store one morning and died on the way to the hospital. Sad news. The chicken rice stall still exists, life goes on, but not seeing that man there to greet me every time I go for a meal reminds me that life can end in an instant, just like that.

    As the plane landed safely, I thought to myself: people always assume they are never the one in the 0.000001% of people to be in a plane accident, like me.

    But worrying about the uncontrollable; the plane crashing, or life itself; does no good either. It’s entirely out of your control.

    Why waste the energy worrying when it makes absolutely no difference to the outcome? Might as well focus that energy on what you can change.

    And be glad for the flight you’re on. You’re going on a holiday, after all.