Weeks ago, when I was struggling with a decision whether to quit school, I faced a situation I’ve faced countless times: people everywhere offering me advice, although I almost never ask for it. Or, maybe in my sheepish subtext, I’m secretly beckoning to people to tell me what I should do. But really, no, I almost never ask people for advice — I ask for a listening ear, yes, a shoulder to cry on, yes, a friend to pig out with, yes, but never for what I should do, because I know I will do what I want to do in the end. As for more practical advice, I usually go to my friend Google or Wikipedia or web forums. So, while I was at the train station waiting for the MRT one day, I got to thinking about advice and jotted down some notes in my notebook. Why are we so good with dispensing advice but never good at heeding them? Could it be that they don’t work? What is the point of advice then?

I’m guilty of being the most uncontrollable spontaneous advice dispenser of us all. I vomit advice to everyone, even people I don’t know, especially on relationship, money, school, work and writing, those same topics I currently suck at — big time. But I don’t know, I just can’t help myself… these nuggets of advice keep creeping out of my mouth everytime I hear a problem. And I’m probably the worst advice vomiter of all… because I take offence when people don’t heed my advice, which I always consider at the time of vomitting them out great, practical advice that will somehow change your lives for the better. And shame on you, pooh, for not heeding it. :p