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Haze 2026

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The transboundary haze caused by Indonesia’s forest and peatland fires is nothing new. It was already troubling Southeast Asia in 1983, when I was just a child. Since then, the haze has returned almost every dry season, particularly between August and October. The 1997 crisis was especially devastating, as Malaysia sent firefighting teams to help battle the massive fires in Sumatra and Kalimantan. Coincidentally, the Asian financial crisis struck around the same time, leaving behind two unforgettable scars in our collective memory. Now, in 2026, history is repeating itself. In September, Sematan in Sarawak reportedly recorded an Air Pollutant Index (API) reading above 500, well into the hazardous range. By October, schools were closing again, and this morning even Kuala Lumpur woke up to the smell of smoke. More than two decades after regional agreements were signed, the haze continues to return, year after year. Promises have been made, but lasting solutions remain elusive...
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Midterm Election 2026

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In October (2026), the air in America is charged with midterm election fervor. Yet before me lies a humble little pastry, bringing together matcha, taro paste, and sesame—a delicate combination that tells a different story about choice. The freshness of matcha evokes the hope people place in the future. The soft, comforting richness of taro speaks to the everyday concerns that shape our lives: the rising cost of living, housing expenses, medical bills, and the simple yet profound question of whether hard work can still lead to a life of security and peace of mind.  The deep, distinctive flavor of sesame, meanwhile, reflects the diversity of beliefs and convictions within society. Every voice has its own origins, its own reasons, and its own reasons for standing firm. The pastry’s outer crust, whether fried or baked, offers a satisfying crispness. But beneath that golden exterior, it is the filling that ultimately defines its character. And so, I find myself thinking abo...
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Not too late

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I'm absolutely in love with the Chinese drama Against The Current, especially this line: “Back then, I wasn't yet worthy of you. Perhaps Heaven made us walk separate paths for a while, so that once we had both grown into better versions of ourselves, we could truly find our way back to each other.” Some kinds of love aren't brought together by fate alone. Perhaps love needs two people to grow, to strive, and to become better versions of themselves—so that when the time is finally right, they are ready to meet each other again. Maybe that's what makes certain kinds of love so beautiful: not simply finding the right person, but becoming the right person for each other. #Mikemoments
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Connecting

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When you find that one person who connects you to the world, you become someone different—someone softer, more hopeful, perhaps even someone better. For a while, you believe that love has made the world make sense. You begin to see meaning in the smallest things, and you allow yourself to believe that perhaps you have finally found the person who makes life feel whole. But when that person is taken from you, something within you changes forever. Life does not stop. The world does not pause to mourn with you. Morning still comes, people still laugh, seasons still change, and life simply keeps moving forward. And so do you. But you are no longer the same person who once loved so recklessly, so innocently, so completely. The hopeless romantic—the foolish, wholehearted believer who once thought love could conquer everything—is gone. What remains is someone who has learned that love can be both a beginning and an ending; that losing someone does not mean losing the a...
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Fate or not fate

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Do you believe that the identity we are given may belong to fate, but the soul we carry—and the spirit with which we live—belongs to us? Perhaps that is what makes Against the Current (Lan Xiang Ru Gu) so deeply moving.  Beneath its romance lies a quiet rebellion against the cages of identity: the insistence that a person should be seen not for the name they bear, the class they belong to, or the skin they inhabit, but for the soul that lives beneath it all. In the rigid social order of its world, the distance between a maid and the young master of an eminent family is not merely social—it is almost a chasm. They belong to different worlds, governed by different rules, with little reason to ever meet as equals. And yet, this very impossibility is what gives their love its extraordinary force. Lan Xiang may have been born into servitude, but she never allowed servitude to define the limits of her spirit. Her intelligence, resilience, dignity and quiet defiance gradually ...
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Against The Current

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There are lessons in life that cannot be learned in comfort. Some things have to be endured before they can be understood. The storms we once wished would pass quickly often leave behind something unexpected:  a quieter mind, a steadier heart, and a deeper understanding of who we are. Adversity has a way of stripping life of its unnecessary noise. It washes away impatience, pride, and the restless need to have everything figured out.  What remains is often much simpler—and much more real. We begin to discover that strength is not always loud. Sometimes, it is simply getting up in the morning after a difficult night and carrying on.  Sometimes, it is choosing not to become bitter after being hurt. Sometimes, it is learning to let go of what we cannot change, while quietly doing what is still within our hands. Life does not promise to spare us from hardship. But hardship does not have the final word, either. The experiences that fail to break us leave their mark...
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A night in Kampar

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On the eve of Malaysia Day, the night felt unusually warm and gentle. Our conversation began with a simple subject — the newly relocated China Supermarket in Kampar, Happy Family. Yet, as conversations between old friends often do, it soon wandered far beyond the shelves and aisles of a supermarket. We found ourselves talking about China and Malaysia, about the quiet and complicated threads that have connected the two countries for generations — and about the many ways people, cultures, languages, and memories cross borders without ever asking for permission. You tried, somewhat hesitantly, to speak in a mother tongue that had grown unfamiliar with time. A word caught, a tone slipped — small stumbles, but I noticed each one. I listened, still the same fool who could never quite hide a silly smile. Perhaps that was what made the evening so beautiful. Outside, the haze hung heavily in the night air. The sky was dull, the atmosphere slightly oppressive, and even breathing seemed to carry ...
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