"Sian Lah - Just Do Enough"

Studio apartment in Singapore: Compact living in the Lion City

 

Lately, we’ve noticed something interesting, and very welcome, in our little corner of Blogspot: thousands of page views generated from Singapore. 

The Lion City, with its shiny skyline and hawker stalls, seems to have a soft spot for this "not buying anything" life. We’re flattered—and curious enough to engage in a little on-line research.

What’s bringing you here? Is it the high cost of living, the packed MRTs, or maybe just a feeling that’s hard to pin down?

Whatever it is, we’ve got a hunch it might tie into a phrase we’ve discovered due to your visits: "Sian lah, just do enough.” 

That totally vibes with what we’ve been all about on this blog since 2008.

If you’re not from Singapore, "sian" is a Hokkien word that means "tired," "bored," or "fed up," all rolled into one. Add "lah," and it’s like a verbal shrug: "I’m over it, man.” 

Then there’s "just do enough"—not slacking, but not killing yourself either. It’s about hitting the mark and stopping there. It's about know what is enough, and what is best for that elusive work/life balance.

Together, it’s a mood we’re betting you know: that moment you see your bills, your boss’s latest email, or the BTO price and go, "Sian lah, just do enough lah."

Sound familiar? It’s got echoes of what we talk about here. This blog’s always been about saying no to the grind of buying more, owning more, wanting more. 

In Singapore, we have learned, that grind’s got a name—the "5Cs": cash, car, credit card, condo, country club. It’s the dream they sell you from the PSLE pressure cooker exam to paycheck, but it comes with a catch: long hours, big loans, and a life stuffed with things you don’t need. 

"Sian lah" feels like the moment you see through it. 

Why chase a car when the MRT’s fine? Why splurge on a $5 bubble tea when kopi at the hawker’s 80 cents? Just do enough—and keep your sanity.

There is evidence of this attitude online

where Singaporeans talk about coasting instead of climbing. 

Some call it a "lay flat" vibe, like China’s "tang ping," but quieter. No big protests, just a personal "bo chup" (don’t care) to the rat race. 

Low marriage rates, folks living with parents into their 30s, or picking Grab rides over a 9-to-5. It may not be a movement at this point, but it’s real. And it fits this blog like a glove. 

You don’t need a condo to live well; an HDB flat’s small space forces you to keep it simple. You don’t need new gadgets every year; fix what you’ve got and call it a day. Less stuff, less stress - that sounds like our kind of freedom.

Singapore’s a funny place for this, though. It’s rich but pricey, modern but cramped. Yet that "sian lah" streak sneaks through. It’s not dropping out; it’s drawing a line. 

And that’s where we meet: this blog’s about living light, and "just do enough" is about working light. Same goal, different slang.

So, to our Singapore friends: does this ring true? Are you here because the "not buying anything" life feels like an antidote to the hustle? Maybe you’re tired of ads, or saving for something real, or just want to declutter your flat, and your head. We’d love to hear. 

How does "sian lah, just do enough" fit your days? 

Drop a comment and keep it chill, lah, no pressure. After all, that’s the point: live simple, spend less, and let the rest go. Maybe that’s why you’re here. And if it is, we’re glad to have you along for the ride.

The Shoelace That Snaps: Bukowski’s Case for Living Simpler

 

Charles Bukowski’s poem “the shoelace” recommends we don’t sweat the big stuff: 

"...it’s not the large things that

send a man to the 

madhouse, death he’s ready for, or

murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood…

no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies

that send a man to the madhouse…

not the death of his love

but a shoelace that snaps 

with no time left…

the dread of life

is that swarm of trivialities…” 

Forget the headlines—USA, Russia, or the emergency of the hour. Bukowski’s point is sharper: it’s the snapped shoelace, the late bill, the broken zipper that grinds you down. 

The small stuff, multiplied by a world hooked on excess, becomes a quiet killer.

Here’s the logic: simplicity can outsmart it. 

Own less, and there’s less to fail you. 

Slow down, and a busted lace won’t ruin your day. 

Minimalism isn’t just a middle finger to the system—it’s a shield against that swarm. 

So, what’s your shoelace? And what could you ditch to keep it from snapping?

 

 

Control What You Can

The world is in a wonky way. In the big picture, there’s little I can do about it.

What seems like an out-of-control world can be disorienting and disempowering—leaving us feeling like leaves in the wind, tossed by the currents of chaos.

That’s why it’s so important to exercise control where we can, in our own tiny sphere of influence. 

If the world is spinning wild, and I feel like my life is too, that’s a recipe for misery. 

Psychologists call this “locus of control”—how much I believe I can shape my own life. 

There’s two kinds: internal, where I see my actions driving what happens, and external, where it’s all luck, fate, or someone else’s call. 

I’m at the internal end of the spectrum—always have been—but here’s the thing: you can shift toward it. It’s not set in stone.

Research says individuals with an internal locus come out healthier, mentally and physically, because they don’t just sit passively—they act.

In times like these, when everything’s upside down, that internal locus feels like a lifeline. 

People who lean external might feel helpless, like the world’s craziness is running the show—studies say they’re more prone to anxiety, even burnout, because they’re waiting for something outside to fix it. 

But an internal locus? It’s a shield. It says, “I can’t stop the storm, but I can steer my own boat.” 

Psychologists note internals handle stress better—lower cortisol, stronger resilience—because they focus on what’s in their grip, not what’s slipping away. 

For me, simple living makes that grip tighter. It strips away the clutter so I can zero in on what’s mine to manage—and it’s helped me nudge even further from external to internal over the years.

So, to answer that perennial question, “What can I do?”—here’s my list, with a few ways I’ve learned to build that internal locus of control:

• I can keep my kitchen clean. A tidy space is my way of saying “no” to chaos. Start small—wash one dish—and watch how it snowballs into a growing sense of control.
• I can stretch, exercise, and meditate in the morning. These aren’t just habits—they’re me taking charge of my body and mind. Pick something, do it daily, and feel the power progress.
• I can make my bed. It’s a quick win, a signal I’m not letting the mess win. Tiny victories like this train me to see I’m in the driver’s seat.
• I can hold Linda tight. Connection’s in my hands, and it keeps me grounded. Reach out to someone—it’s a choice that pulls you back from fate’s grip.
• I can think for myself. No one else gets to run my head—I decide what I take in. Question one thing you’ve accepted blindly; it’s a step to owning your mind.
• I can breathe. Simple, sure, but it’s my reset button, proof I’ve got power over my calm. Try deep breathes when stress hits—see it as your move, not the world’s.
• I can choose how I respond to outside stimuli. The world can scream, but I don’t have to scream back—I pick my reaction. Pause before reacting next time; it’s how I’ve rewired from feeling helpless to steady as she goes.
• I can see and appreciate the birds, the flowers, and the sun. Focusing on these joys keeps me present. Notice one thing daily—it shifts your lens from “out there” to “right here.”
• I can honor my priorities. Living by what matters to me, not the world’s noise, keeps me steady. Write down one priority and stick to it—it’s a stake in your own ground.

Just because the world is crazy doesn’t mean our lives have to mirror it. Simple living helps me here—having less to manage means fewer things pulling me off course. 

Studies back this up: people who feel in control, even in small ways, dodge the stress and burnout that hit when you think it’s all out of your hands. 

Linda and I have spent decades building a life that could shrug off something like the global covid panic—we were thankfully less affected than most. 

That wasn’t luck; it was us passing a test that we had been preparing for over a long time. And if we can shift from feeling tossed around to standing firm, anyone can—bit by bit.

I may not control much,
but I will attempt
to control what I can.
And that feels good,
and calm,
and right.

Where are you on the spectrum?