To The Moon

I mainly trade U.S. stocks and ETFs, which means that whether I like it or not, my investing life is tied to the USD. Every trade, every position, every gain or loss eventually traces back to one quiet but powerful decision: when to exchange SGD to USD. Lately, I’ve been telling myself not to do it. Not yet. This isn’t a rule I picked up from a textbook or a macroeconomic forecast. It came from something far more personal and mundane—scrolling through my own currency exchange history. Line by line, date by date, I could see the past versions of myself converting SGD into USD, usually without much hesitation. Back then, I didn’t think too deeply about exchange rates. I just wanted to invest. The currency conversion felt like a necessary step, not a decision worth dwelling on. But looking at

I have always believed that Occidental Petroleum—Oxy—has been undervalued, but that belief did not come from a spreadsheet or a model alone. It grew slowly, the way convictions often do, through observation, patience, and a little bit of frustration. Yesterday was one of those days that made that belief feel especially vivid. Occidental (OXY) I was watching the market the way I often do—half out of habit, half out of hope. The earlier part of the day had that familiar energy: oil stocks were green across the board, lifted by headlines about Venezuela. News like that tends to ripple quickly through the energy sector, and sure enough, the usual names were moving. Exxon Mobil, Chevron, Hal

$Direxion Daily Semiconductors Bear 3x Shares(SOXS)$ I am generally bearish on semiconductor stocks. In my view, the sector has become overhyped, with stock prices rising significantly over the past few years. Based on this outlook, I purchased SOXS to average down my cost basis and am prepared to remain patient while waiting for a potential correction.

It’s still early in 2026—barely a few days in—and my portfolio has been quiet. No new stocks, no new ETFs, no sudden bursts of conviction. Just me watching the market move without me. Then today, I submitted a buy order for SOXS. Nothing dramatic happened after that. The order is still sitting there, waiting, like a question mark I’ve placed into the market. I set a limit price of $2.68 per share. Whether the price ever gets there is out of my control now. If it fills, it fills. If it doesn’t, so be it. SOXS, of course, is an inverse ETF. It says a lot about my current mindset. I’m bearish on 2026—or at least, I feel bearish. That feeling has been with me for a while now. The ironic part is that I’m often wrong when I feel most certain. History hasn’t exactly been kind to my market pessimi

2025 slipped away quietly. It’s now only the second day of 2026, and like any reflective investor, I found myself staring at numbers—specifically, the P&L analysis in my Tiger Brokers account. Rows of numbers, green and red, unrealised and realised. I’ve learned that if you stare long enough, numbers stop being numbers and start becoming memories. I opened my Tiger Brokers account back in 2023. Those early years felt encouraging. Both 2023 and 2024 ended with positive overall P&L, reinforcing a sense that I was doing something right. The market rewarded my decisions, and confidence slowly but surely grew. Then came 2025—a humbling reminder that investing is never a straight line upward. For the first time since I started, my overall P&L for the year turned negative. Seeing red

I’ve never seen Warren Buffett in action—no boardroom meetings, no handshakes over billion-dollar deals—but somehow, his presence feels impossible to ignore. Reading about him is like stumbling into a masterclass in patience, discipline, and quiet brilliance. The news that he’s stepping down as CEO of Berkshire Hathaway at the end of the year feels surreal. Here’s a man who turned a struggling textile company in 1965 into a trillion-dollar powerhouse, and now, he’s passing the torch. Berkshire Hathaway (BRK.A) What strikes me most isn’t just the numbers—his personal net worth is estimated at $151 billion, and Berkshire’s market value exceeds $1 trillion—but the way he’s done it. Buffett has a knack for explaining complicated ideas simply, dropping quotes that stick in your head: “Risk come

I won’t say I regret missing opportunities in 2025. Regret is a heavy word, one that implies certainty—that I should have known better, that the outcome was obvious. Markets don’t work that way. What I will say is that there are moments, charts, and earnings calls I sometimes revisit with a quiet sense of curiosity: What if? 2025 was a year that made hindsight feel louder than it deserved to be. The headlines were cinematic. Trump’s return to the political stage reintroduced policy uncertainty like a recurring plot twist—tariffs resurfaced, trade rhetoric hardened, and markets oscillated between panic and indifference. At the same time, artificial intelligence stopped being a “theme” and became an infrastructure race. Capital flowed not just into models, but into chips, storage, energy, an

I have many stocks in my watchlist. Too many. So many, in fact, that watching them feels like trying to follow a hundred toddlers on a sugar high—prices ticking up and down every second, each one screaming, “Look at me! No, look at me!” Inevitably, when I finally buy a stock, the price immediately goes down. And when I sell? That same stock suddenly remembers it’s supposed to go up. Every. Single. Time. By the end of 2025, I finally accepted an uncomfortable truth: the stock market has a strange emotional connection to me, and that connection is mostly revenge. Despite this, I like to think I’ve been investing responsibly. My usual method is very sensible. I look at the current price relative to the 52-week range and historical range. I check the company’s financial strength. I look at div

If you asked me which trade taught me the most this year, I’d say Wendy’s (WEN). Yes, Wendy’s. It started simply enough: I bought shares at $10.98 and thought, “Seems reasonable. The company is fine. Burgers aren’t going anywhere. What could possibly go wrong?” Wendy's (WEN) A few months later, Wendy’s was down to around $8.29. And my reaction? Picture me staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed me, whispering, “Really? You’re doing this to me?” Once I calmed down, I reminded myself—very rationally, like an adult—that the company wasn’t broken. People were still lining up for Frostys, Baconators etc. Fundamentally, nothing had changed except the number on my screen and my blood pressure. So what did I do? Absolutely nothing. I sat there, clutching my coffee like it was emotion

I took the screenshot to participate in the event by @TigerEvents. That was the whole mission. Click, screenshot, submit—done. Simple. The wheel proudly showed return goals ranging from 5 all the way to 1000. A beautiful spread of possibilities. Hope, ambition, and unrealistic expectations all neatly arranged in a circle. And when I checked my screenshot? It stopped at 5. Of all numbers. Five quietly sitting there like, “Yes, this is what you get.” For half a second, I thought, wow… is this a sign? Then I remembered—this is just a screenshot. The outcome doesn’t matter. The rules didn’t say I had to land on 1000 to win a Nobel Prize in Investing. I just needed to screenshot. Mission accomplished. But the thing is, five isn’t bad. Five