Broken

I am broken.

I have been broken one too many times, each one of these events seem to merge together to form one long winded tunnel of memory of broken-ness. I have been broken one too many times to even mind being broken, I got used to this feeling, to this state of being broken. I suspect one too many people know, or at least recognise this when they look into my eyes, and they spot something that sparks a cause for concern. They sit through my fake smile telling them that everything was all right, that I don’t sleep well these days because it is too hot, and I am not referring to the weather.

It is never easy to lie like this, but at times, they are convenient. I choose easy over and over and over again.

She is broken.

She has been broken one too many times, and these are the ones that she shared with me, not because she wanted me to help her pick up the pieces, but more like she knew I could relate to her state of broken-ness. And in turn, she knows that I am broken. Two broken people in the world, albeit for different reasons, some of which overlap.

Sometimes, words are just not enough. Because sometimes, it is words that break us, especially when they come out of the mouths of the people who supposedly love us. While the people that truly love us sit there in silence, listening to every word that we say, because the real message often lies in the things left unsaid. The things we do to the people who love us.

We are broken

We have been broken one too many times for all the wrong reasons, and each and every time, we manage to sticky-tape everything back together into something better. It can almost be forgiven that we think we are untouchable, except that we often forget that we are subjected to the usual human fallacies. We are ill-equipped to deal with what is regarded as one of the most common issues in a relationship. We laugh at them because we think, hey, we are better than that, right. Right? We are obliviously blind to the very same issues that creep up until they eventually cause a crack; a crack that break us.

We are broken and we are in pain. And the more we are in pain, the more we cause each other pain; the lame excuse we use to justify our shortcomings. We refuse to take responsibility for our actions and prefer to instead place blame on the person we said is the love of our lives. I guess it is true that we only hurt the ones we love.

We are all broken. But we are still here.

***

Lately, I have been thinking quite a lot about 'stories of struggle' - the stories that we often share to those nearest and dearest to us. When I first started this blog, I made a point to stick to the happy stories, because, well, those are easier to write. 

This year, I am going to write both happy and less happy stories. Stories that make us... human. Stories that would hopefully strengthen our bonds. Stories along similar veins to the ones that I wrote about in the past and promptly got me into trouble. I would strip all names and everything else that may potentially identify the people in these stories, strip all the details and stick to the themes. 

And if, by chance, you happen to figure out who these people are, please be kind and offer an ear. Don't talk about them behind their backs, don't say terrible things about them, don't break their hearts. They are just like us, struggling to find meaning. And to live.  

The (non) instruction manual for living

We are going to track back for a bit to year 2008, the year of the Global Financial Crisis, otherwise known as the GFC. It was also the year that I hit one of the lowest points in my life – if not the lowest point to date. Of course when it was happening, it didn’t feel like it was a low point, it just felt like life, and I was living, and struggling and trying to do the best that I could. But now, in retrospect, yes, it was a low point and fuck, how did I survive that? I did not know, and I still don’t know.

That was the year that I asked so many questions – so many fucking questions that I could not, and still can not, fucking answer. I attributed this to this phenomenon called the quarter life crisis. I mean, when you were young, and you were supposed to live life that was fulfilling and worthwhile, without actually knowing what it looked like, let alone felt like, it was pretty impossible not to get a little depressed. What is this thing called a full, enriching life? And how the fuck do you know when you’ve got one? Navigating your twenties is one ugly beast, because you feel like life, where you are right now, is extremely fucking hard. But you are not allowed to say it as such. You are supposed to make it appear effortless, darling.

In the year 2008, against all odds, and without managing to figure things out, I survived relatively intact. One thing that is for sure though, even when you manage to figure things out, hold down a job and get a house and a life, all of these could be taken away from you in the blink of an eye, because of things that are beyond your control. Even when you have done everything within your power to weather the bad times, it is rare for anyone to escape unscathed. There would be some effects; some of these are deep and lasting, and invisible to the naked eye. So I hated adulthood; growing old is one motherfucking bitch.

But I have never told anyone this, until now.

In fact, I have joined the popular wisdom of getting older: that life gets better. I like to think that this is because I have a terrible memory, but truth is that, I suppress the terrible times, to the point that if I could, I would erase them from my memory. Selective recalling masked as positive thinking. I am all in for being positive and all that jazz, and I remain a big fan until today. And I also believe that it doesn’t hurt to remember the terrible times, even if they only serve as a reminder of how far we’ve become.

The truth about living is that life doesn’t always get better, and it continuously and perpetually takes a lot of hard work. You don’t always have everything figured out, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to not show up, because living is in showing up. You show up every single day even when you feel so tired and you look at the mirror and notice shit, I not only feel old, I also look old. And I feel fat. Shit, am I fat? When did all of these happen?

There is a deep satisfaction in showing up because it often carries with it an element of connection, an element of struggle, and more often than not, it involves other people. There is a deep satisfaction when you demonstrate (through your actions) a willingness to take on someone’s cause as your own, especially when you haven’t found out what your cause is. There is a deep satisfaction in knowing that in showing up, you are actually doing something, no matter how small, that contributes something to lives of the people around us.

There is no instruction manual for living, quite unfortunately. My one and only rule is this thing called flow – there has got to be a flow, you have to stay in motion. Because the alternative, i.e being stagnant, inaction, is never a valid option. Showing up may appear trivial, but the impact on the people that we are interacting with everyday as a result of us showing up is truly profound. Look out for the smile that results from something that you’ve done. You may not find this often, but there is at least one smile amongst all the hustle and bustle of live.

That one smile is never an isolated effect; believe me when I say this, because of two things. First, the multiplier effect, according to which, this one smile will result in a lot more one-smile-s, which will then result in a lot more more one-smile-s. Or in other words, a smile (or happiness) is contagious. Ever had a stranger smile at you and said somewhat randomly, have a good day? And then you end up having a good day? Yeah, something like that. So, smile, and wish someone a good day, even when that person is not a stranger.

Two, even when the outcome that we look for is a smile, there is almost always something else, and these things are often invisible to the naked eye, or often referred to as ‘I am happy when I’ve contributed to your happiness’. Your happiness in this case is another effect of you showing up.

So then, is this the secret to a good life?

Yes and no. This is because it is rare for two variables to perfectly influence each other. In this case, while it is (somewhat) undisputed that the rate of us showing up is positively correlated with our general well being, there is almost always something else that contributes to this relationship. Or that, even when you’ve successfully identified (albeit only statistically) the relationship between two variables, it is very rarely that this correlation is 100%; there is always something else that contributes to the outcome. Sometimes, this ‘something else’ is a combination of insignificant, therefore seemingly irrelevant causes, so we just tend to ignore them. Because we are much better off concentrating on changing the one thing that we believe is going to result in the outcome that we want.  Because limited resources. Because prioritizing. Because laziness.

I know I am guilty of the last one, which is why I still struggle to make sense of things. I have even more questions today about life than I did one year ago. I still get frustrated on a regular basis because I can’t think my way through these things. Because it makes me feel like I am not smart enough. Like I am dumb, or so blind that I can’t even see these answers that I’ve been told can be found inside me.

Maybe, just maybe, this is one of those things that I can’t think my way through. Maybe, what this really means is that I need to just stop trying to make sense of things right now. Maybe, one day, it will all be made clear to me. Maybe I would be able to see things that have been there all along. Or maybe not. Or maybe, it doesn’t matter. Because life still goes on as long as I show up, open my heart and appreciate the things that make me grateful to be alive. Or in other words, give my mind a break, live life right now with all of my heart, and celebrate the little moments that contribute to a much bigger sum.

Happy birthday to me.

A note on crashing an MBA class

One Wednesday evening, I found myself crashing a dear friend's MBA class.

I don't have a master's degree, so I don't know what to expect, other than I am going to be entertained for the next few hours of my life. I get that this is not the kind of entertainment most people would go for, but it is for me.

What I got was way more than entertainment; I found out a few interesting things about being human, in the form of really informative graphs that really could've been drawn better (another story another time). There were lessons about how to manage resources (which is what a good MBA program is focused on). There was a lesson about how to manage yourself. More specifically, how to manage your feelings.

(To most people that were in that room at the same time, the take away is very likely not to be the above; it certainly was not worded nor presented as such. And that's okay, because understandably different things would resonate differently to different people, or differently to the same people in different times of their lives.)

As a society, we are obsessed with happiness. Like really, really obsessed. Obsessed like all that we ever want in this life is to be happy kind of obsessed. I know because I have said this once upon a time. And the irony is not lost on me that it was during the time that I was most miserable that I said that every single fucking day. I was chasing happiness, without knowing how, and most importantly why.

After years of futile search and extreme exhaustion that manifested in the form of what I labelled a quarter life crisis, I delved into the topic a bit further. There was a very good chance that I was wrong, and perhaps, I should stop whatever it was I was doing because, well, it was clearly not working.

I said that my take away from that 3.5 hours entertainment was how to manage my feelings because of this one sentence: you cannot be happy; you can be happy about something. And that something better be something you can bloody identify. When I wake up in the morning feeling happy, what I really want to say is I am happy that I had a good night sleep, I wake up feeling rested and ready to start my day. When I say that I want to be happy, what I really want to say is I want to be happy with my choices in life.

Being able to identify specifically what you are happy with is part of being in touch with your feelings. I think this is a very important step towards being able to manage your feelings. I also think that a lot of times, when we discuss how to manage our feelings, most of the time the discussion is skewed towards suppressing the bad and accentuating the good. There is nothing wrong with accentuating the good, I am a subscriber. But constantly suppressing the bad is dangerous and can be detrimental to one's health. Because I do not believe that the good is meant to cancel the bad, the two are meant to exist side by side as part of this thing we call our feelings. It is very possible that you feel good about something and at the same time feel bad about something else. And this is not a bad thing either, it is just what it is.

Upon reflection, I think, the same principle applies for all of the feelings that we have: the good and the bad. We are happy about something, we are annoyed about something, we are excited about something and we are bored about something. Yet somehow, the reason behind our feelings are often left out in our sentences. One of the things that we constantly feel is this thing called inconvenience - like, for example, the rain and how we need to walk out of the house with umbrellas that would then get destroyed by the wind. Or that because of the rain, we could not go running our usual track. Or that the broken treadmill in the gym plus the rain mean we have to resort to the bike or the rowing machine, or whatever monstrous machines that we have to endure for the next 20 minutes or so. And most of the time, we summarise all of these with "ugh, so annoying."

It really doesn't hurt to identify the source of the feeling; in fact, I think it can help us sort out our feelings better. And perhaps, if we get to understand why we feel a certain way, then we would be more open to pause for one moment and feel the feeling, no matter how uncomfortable it is. Because I think, being able to feel a range of your feelings is a part of managing it, and being able to manage this well is a part of growing up.

We are not skilled in articulating our feelings, or even, identifying our feelings accurately, i.e why we feel a certain way, let alone managing them. When we feel an emotion that's of an uncomfortable nature, we tend to shut it off, or ignore it, because (1) we think it is wrong to feel that way and (2) in some twisted way, we believe that ignoring it will make it go away. We forget that to see the rainbow, we have to live through the rain.

We are not bad people, even when we do not feel perfectly content about life 24/7. We think we should be excited, giddy, positive all the time. And this is because, well, a lot of people are uncomfortable when we share some form of painful emotion/experience. I don't blame them, really, so most of the time I don't share these things. When I do share them, I get some judgment - which adds to my pain. Very rarely I would get an ear that would listen without judgment. The worst judgment of all: "wow, you are really negative." Yes, I was. I am sorry that I made you feel uncomfortable; but I sure learn my lesson of not sharing private moments with you. [This is a terrible response on my part, I know. I pick this because this is easier for me than trying to connect on a deeper level with this person. This sounds like a cop out, because, well, it is.]

Why we need to share the good and the bad - especially the bad? Connection on a deeper level. Deep connection that most people shy away from. Including me. Because it takes a lot of time and energy and I only have so much of those.

But it is through deep connections that we find meaning. Finding meaning does not automatically make us happy; we are happy about having deep connections, hopefully with those we love: when we get to share their deepest, most intimate thoughts and feelings, and for that moment in time, we let them know that we love them, and we act on that love.

We may not be able to change what we feel, but we have options on how to respond to those feelings. So, choose wisely.


Every day I make decisions about how I choose to live my life, consciously or not.  These decisions become the building blocks of my life. And when I put off making a decision about something, usually because of paralysis by analysis, I still essentially make a decision: that of indecision, and that's when I feel stuck. Stop thinking, start feeling and go with the flow.  

Otherwise known as the things that forced me to grow up

In life we keep coming back to those people whose presence in our lives left a footprint or two. We may not realise it at the time, but in becoming a part of our lives, they were teaching us something. These are some of those lessons.

**
On identifying true colours

But there was something about him. He was the guy that everybody wants to be near. I was somewhat sure I could not keep up. He was intoxicatingly attractive in his own way. We dived into this thing together. I saw similarities between us and this created an artificial sense of security on my part. I ignored the rest.

I am sure there were good moments, but these quickly faded. I don’t visit them very often and they dissolve into the background. In the foreground was the after math of the break up. I was no stranger to break-ups. A person’s character is most obvious in how they deal with a break up, almost similar to how they manage to find a parking spot when there was none to be found. Or if they decide to tag along on one of your shopping trips. He was used to shortcuts; it was if he was entitled to such convenience. This preference for shortcuts was one of the many red flags that I ignored and came back to punch me straight on my face, nearly broke my nose and left me bleeding.

**
On knowing oneself

He was destined to save the world – literally. He was no superhero, but he might as well have been one. I don’t think he goes around with cape, but if he does, it would be a green one. This was a man who singlehandedly goes for what he wanted, and it stung that I wasn’t one of those things.

Overtime, it became clear that it was the best thing that ever happened to us. What he wanted was and still is everything I didn’t want. I didn’t know myself then, and it scares me that he knew me so well. We made this crazy pact to get together if we were still single at a certain time. I wasn’t single and neither was he. It’s all good, my friend. Everything is like they are supposed to be. He is still saving the world, and is bloody good at that.

**
On physical attraction

He had a certain aura about him, primarily because he was so bloody handsome. Those eyes, those eyebrows and gawd, he was easily the tallest person that I had ever dated. It was pure, primal attraction on my part; and as I subsequently found out, physical attraction was an untamable beast. Therefore it was rather ironic that physically, our compatibility never tested, let alone eventuated. It was, however, the source of many terrible decisions that could have and should have been avoided.

Looking back, I am fascinated to no end – what is it about physical attraction that made you willing to overlook everything else? Like that one time when he told you that he was (ironically) physically intimate with another girl, which ‘didn’t mean anything’. Physical attraction cannot and should not be the single determining factor in this thing called compatibility in a relationship. Its importance is often overrated, although it doesn't mean that its subscribers are shallow. What it does mean is that their language of love involves physical touch.

**
On bragging

He was (and still is) the son of a rich man who flaunted his wealth on a regular basis, starting with his choice of car, which was his thanks to his parents' generosity. I used to think that this is a function of the rather shallow environment that he grew up in, or rather, operated in, but some years later, I discovered that old habits die hard. We were in a club, amongst all places, with some friends, some of whom he had just met, and there he was, bragging about his latest conquests - cars, houses and other equally materialistic pursuits.

What he didn't know (and may never find out in this life time) was the number of people who were repulsed by his actions. Instead of talking to people and getting to know them better, he was busy establishing status - that somehow, because of his acquisition of the things that displays success (which combined together screams success), he was better than the rest of us. On the other hand, I couldn't care less. So what you're rich? That doesn't (and didn't) impress me much.

On that note, so what you're educated? That doesn't impress me much.

What impresses me? Your character, your attitude, how you treat other people (with kindness), how you treat yourself (with compassion), and that you act with integrity, uphold honesty and genuinely embrace vulnerability.

All I want for my birthday...

I am going to be one year older soon.

And in line with keeping with tradition, I am writing a birthday wish list. I am a firm believer in telling people what you want because this increases the chance of you actually getting what you want as it takes the guess work out of the equation, and subsequently allows the other person to concentrate their efforts on getting you what you want. This, of course, does not gel well with some people. In fact, in a recent discussion I found myself in when it comes to birthday gifts, to some people, giving a wish list took away the meaning of gifting – you know the whole, I see this thing, think about you and then actually give it to you. I guess viewed this way, I am just a terrible person when it comes to gifting. Or perhaps, I just don’t know people that well to be able to give them with an object that I deem to be something they may derive a lot of enjoyment of.

But I am all in for open and transparent communication that’s often borderline inappropriate, so here we go. Before we launch into this year’s birthday list, let’s see what happened to last year’s wish list.

Running without pain. While I ran for most of this year without much pain, there were definitely moments whereby running was painful. This stays on this year’s list while I work out what is the most optimum way for me to run. My personal best for this year is 5km in 26:30. It happened just once and I haven’t had a repeat performance ever since. If I get to beat this time next year, that would be fucking awesome.

A dog. Oh gawd, I want a dog. Since forever. This is also not possible given our living situation. So this is put on hold indefinitely. It hurts my chest writing this (then again, I am currently battling a throat/chest infection).

A huge kick-ass mirror. Don’t know happened with this one because actually, found a good candidate for the apartment and then don’t know what happened, didn’t end up purchasing. Hm. Perhaps this is a good sign that this should not have been on the list.
(but I still kind of want the mirror…)

This year’s birthday wish list goes like this: all of the above plus the following (in no particular order of importance)

Fried chicken. Holy fuck, I abstained from fried chicken for a whole month and have not been missing it since then like I thought I would. I have not had fried chicken in what seems like forever and I find myself not thinking about it as often as I had been in the past. While this break up is definitely unintended, it is much welcome by my arteries and my heart, but somehow my throat responded by getting an infection (see above). That said, I want some fried chicken. It’s my birthday and I will eat fried chicken if I want to. If I die, I will die on a high, which is infinitely better in my books rather than living a mediocre, fried-chicken-less life.

Clothes that fit. I tagged along a dear friend to his tailor yesterday, and got to witness a lesson on fit. Clothes that fit is like so fucking important that I can even begin to tell you why that’s the case. Yes, I know that these days my fit standard is somewhat on the poor end of the scale, with all those oversized shirts – what can I say, it’s hot outside. Yet the real reason is that my body shape is changing, quite possibly due to my exercise routine. On this note, while I am all in for being healthy (it is after all the most important element of an enjoyable life), this whole business of changing shapes is getting annoying. Because as much as I like going shopping and dressing myself, this is also a very expensive process and my bank account needs to be kept happy.

But those things, really, are not that important. Because if I were to be completely honest, I already have all that I want. I am happy with the decisions that I make in my life, I am blessed with good health and I enjoy the company of the finest people in this life – people, whom I feel, love me without having to mouth those words.

I am very very lucky.

And I actually look forward to getting older, and hopefully, wiser.

Reflections after one year of marriage

We celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary.

Every time I think about our wedding day, and now, our anniversary, I always tell myself that this time, it’s going to be different; different in the sense that I am actually going to remember this day in the years to come. I am even going to go to lengths to celebrate it. Damn, if there is one thing that I can be good at in this life, then this would be it: remembering our wedding anniversary. So far, my success rate is 100%. Ask me again next year to see if the number stays the same.

Throughout our dating life, I have a terrible history of remembering our dating anniversary. This would make for a funny story if not for the fact that the said date is actually in my diary and every single year, without fail, I make a promise to myself to remember it. So far, the success rate is big fat zero. The only consolation I take is that my other half forgets it too, so every year, it’s like this is why we are still together (and this is also one of the very many reasons why we are still married).

That was until I discover that apparently remembering anniversaries is a task for the females of the relationship. So, if the male forgets, it’s okay, because, you know, male. But females, well. I swear sometimes I am not a female. That came out wrong. Gah.

What's more relevant (and perhaps, also important) is that there is always room for improvement. While this is perhaps a little too early for me to say, the secret to remembering anniversaries – easy: pick an easy date to remember. This is why our wedding anniversary is infinitely easier to remember as supposed to our dating anniversary. As I have always said, when you have the option to set up something for yourself, design it well. Choose a good date for your wedding. It will save you a lifetime of headache and guilt. (The irony of this whole situation is that we didn’t exactly choose our wedding date – it was chosen for us in accordance with the alignment of the moon and the stars, and in the process we got lucky that it happened to be an easy date to remember. This is a sign that some things in life are just a meant-to-be.)

I started writing this post wanting to write about love, because well, that’s what weddings are all about, if you strip off the flowers, the cake and everything else. It is a celebration of love. I also discovered that it is difficult to write about love – it is simple yet complex at the same time, it is liberating and constricting all at once. The intensity of this emotion is very difficult to distill into words. Or maybe, I just don’t know enough words or how to string them together.

Sometime during the course of our first year of marriage, I managed to convince my other half that it was worthwhile doing the language of love test, if only as a confirmation of what I thought his language of love was. And being newlyweds, of course it was easy to convince him that this was something that would make me happy (ha!).  Not that I didn’t get any resistance, mind you, because that test was (and maybe still is) somewhat rather repetitive and whilst he was doing it, I got a few threats of quitting. The validation I got was not limited to the confirmation of what his language of love was, it was, more importantly, his gesture of doing things that I asked, that I deemed important, even when he hardly saw any value in doing so. Oh, and of course, never quit, guys, even when the task at hand is seemingly so pointless to you. It may mean the world to someone else. What’s a few minutes of your time in exchange for a lifetime of happiness? Do I hear fantastic investment? Amen. (We love cheese.)

When we got married, we made a promise to each other that we would love each other forever. There were other words that were spoken, but essentially, that’s what it is. The key word is forever. To promise to love someone forever is a really big deal, at least in my life. I have never even promised my parents that I would love them forever (sorry Dad, Mom).  And besides, in all honesty, these days, I don’t promise anyone anything anymore, and I never asked for their promises in return. I think promises, just like honesty, are expensive; I am not sure I can afford them.

Because as I got older, the more I realise that keeping a promise is never easy. Even with the best of intentions, shit happens and when you fail to keep your promise, the trust withdrawal can be oh so crippling. I should know because, well, you know, life. So I make a rule for myself that I would only make promises I know I can keep primarily to keep myself happy. Girl has priorities, okay.

A promise to love someone sounds very arbitrary at best. Sometimes, you think you are loving this person so much until it hurts your bones, but that person do not feel the same way, and then, you’re pretty much fucked. Sometimes, you think you are doing so much in an effort to love this person, and instead of making this person feel special and loved, you end up pushing him/her away. Unintentionally, of course, but it happens.

Perhaps, the promise should read: I promise to love you the way you want to be loved.  But this is assuming that that person knows what sort of love he/she wants. That’s the easy bit What if this changes overtime? What are you going to do about your promise to love them forever?

Truth is that, it is rare for anyone to be able to work out what anyone else wants in the long-term sense, because, obviously, people change. Everything (and everyone) is constantly temporary. I want you to love me this way today: by eating fried chicken with me. Tomorrow, I want you to love me this way: by eating anything other than fried chicken with me so that my arteries are not clogged before I turn 34.

Just because you are married does not mean you’ve got this whole love thing all worked out. In fact, quite the opposite – you discover that this is so big and so deep it is actually beyond your comprehension (if you’re willing to admit it). How the fuck do you get a grasp on something that is so infinitely incomprehensible? Where the fuck do you start?

This whole love thing is overwhelmingly … overwhelming.

At its most basic level, I am thankful that despite all the privileges of our lives, we take pleasure in the small and simple pleasures. We don’t strive to be happy all the time, but we strive to be happy about the lives that we live.  We take time to appreciate each other, even when we constantly forget anniversaries. We don’t wait for big moments. We don’t strive to create big moments. Our small moments become one big moment. The things that we do for each other every single day are the ones that bring color into the big picture.  

I obviously don’t have this whole love thing figured out, but it doesn’t stop me from loving you.
Happy anniversary, le husb. I love you way more than fried chicken. And pork belly.

On home ownership

One of the things that have been discussed ad nauseam lately is the renting versus buying your home. You all know the drill: option one is to save for that downpayment of your home and then spend the next twenty or thirty years paying the mortgage, while enjoying this thing called home ownership. Option two is to rent your home and invest your excess cash into some form of investment (most likely tied to the stock market) and then hope that by the end of the thirty years, you would have benefitted from the arrangement one way or the other.

No, I am not going to do the numbers, or present them here for you. This is because these sort of comparative analyses often depend on the assumptions behind the model and if you are really clever, you can spin it whichever way you want to. This is not to say that these models are useless; rather, we must be critical of the information that's presented to us. Do not blindly believe everything you see. Question those assumptions, change them, see if the analysis still makes sense. You can forecast into the future however you want to, with varying degrees of conservativeness, and guess what - you can never will them to reality. Or maybe you can, when you get lucky.

And from time to time, we do get lucky, and yet when this happens, we think we were so smart to have foreseen this seemingly inevitable reality happening. Actually, no. There are so many things that are beyond our control that just happen to work for us. Of course it helps that we are prepared to seize the opportunity when it first appears. We even strategise on what we would do if and when those opportunities happen.

Getting back to the numbers, I think at the end of the day, they would be pretty much the same, i.e. neither is better than the other, especially when you take into account risks profiles, time horizons, tax concessions, liquidity, time value of money... your NPV in both scenarios are likely to be close together. So really, in my opinion, this is not a decision that one should make based on numbers alone. There a lot of things in life that we do not assess by numbers, so why is it the case that our living arrangement is a decision that we make based on numbers alone? Or at least, a decision that heavily skews towards what the numbers say.

I am going to say this: cash flow wise, depending on where you live, renting is almost always more forgiving towards your bank account than buying. More often than not, you will have less cash outflow as a renter than as a buyer. So if your decision is purely based on cash flow, then this is where you stop considering all the other factors that could be relevant on this issue. And it's ok to make this decision purely based on cash flow alone. I work with money on a daily basis, so I understand where you are coming from.

However, just because you are part of the number-focused party does not mean that everyone else should subscribe to the same school of thought. Because to those who can afford it, the intangible benefits of owning your own home is something that money can't buy - the fact that they can buy it with money is part of the intangible benefits so to speak.

From this perspective, it is somewhat irrational, particularly if you think that having numbers to back you up rationalise your perspective. However, just because they are seemingly irrational does not mean they are useless. I am talking about things like the trade off between stability v flexibility, high maintenance (and its associated freedom to do whatever you fucking want) vs low maintenance (and the hassle of obtaining permission to do the smallest things), and things of similar vein. And guess what - a lot of us are actually irrational people who like to rationalise our options and decisions - and using numbers to do this can be very very dangerous.

I belong to the buy-your-home camp. I am currently paying down the mortgage to my apartment. This decision costs me at least $10k more than renting (approximately $1k per month). And no, I don't think about this as an investment; I regard it as simply buying comfort. Yes, I get that you can buy comfort some other way, this is just how I buy my comfort.

That brings me to my next point: make this decision based on the lifestyle that you deem suitable for you, not for someone else. This is perhaps the hardest thing to figure out because while most of us probably know what we want, it takes quite a lot of guts to (1) admit it and (2) make sure that your actions actually align with it. Plus there is the fear factor - the fear of making the wrong decision, especially on something so... big.

Look, if it works for you, it works for you. If it doesn't, then you need to change it. Of course it always helps to have a buffer. As I have always said, one of the ways you can prepare for life is with a strong budget. The interest rate can raise two times its current rate, and you can ride it through with your budget. Seriously, it's not that hard. It just requires you to live within your means.