Today I opened up the newspaper and there was this picture of all these dead cats lying at the bottom of this HDB flat. Apparently some woman went nuts and threw down furniture along with her ex-housepets.

I was disgusted. But it also made me wonder why mental illnesses have such a heavy stigma attached to them in Singapore. Everywhere else, it seems, people wear their mental disorders on their sleeve. (I realise that the way I phrase it is heavily loaded with negative conotations but hear me out) I know that in the United States, having a 'therapist' (important word, to be differentiated from psychologist, psychiatrist, symbolises occasional bouts of emotional frustration but not yet bordering on mental instability) is a social norm, even encouraged.

You hardly hear of anyone engaging the help of mental health services in Singapore. But that certainly doesn't mean that the problem isn't prevalent. My mom said this morning that the reason that only a fraction of suicides are reported in the papers is that a lot of them are committed by jumping off a high-rise building. A feature that is much in abundance in Singapore, a feature that we cannot do without. So for fear of public backlash against high rise buildings, such suicides go unreported.

What I don't understand is why we can't strike a balance. By not raising public awareness about mental illnesses, you're not doing anything to solve the problem. (ie, just because the homeless are out of sight doesn't mean that the problem doesn't exist) Of COURSE we realise that tearing down high rise buildings for good are not the way to solve the problem. But neither is pretending that it doesn't exist. Self-sufficiency can only go so far, as far as I'm concerned.

Debating if I should go for the Oasis concert or not, for all the moolah I will have to spend. And at the risk of their storming off the stage, probably because Singaporean audiences are just SO boring.

I just ate a load for tea because we bought loads from this really fantastic bakery near my place. I must have ingested 1000 calories. Least I wasn't the only one eating, so there isn't that misery of eating all that junk in solitude. I henceforth declare that my diet shall be called Operation M2F. M2F = Monday To Friday. I know it's lame but... there's ALWAYS so much of good food around on weekends. Not to eat will be too cruel.

I'm the only one I know who can sing the Foos' Monkey Wrench, and I learnt the lyrics completely by ear. Hah. My favourite part is when he yells "one last thing before i quit i never wanted any more than i could fit into my head i still remember everything you said and all the shit that somehow came along with it still there's one thing that comforts me since i was always caged and now i'm free...." no fullstops or anything.