You ever wonder why old pictures, or pictures for that matter, are important to you?
It's because people are forgetful creatures. Memories, the children born of the wedlock between events in our lives and our emotional reactions to them, eventually fade. Every once in a while, we will need solid, concrete pictorial proof of the past to recall things.
And, in a way, old friends are like old pictures.
Today I had dinner with an old friend. It didn't matter that the last time we actually sat and talked properly was more than a year ago. Conversation came easily, all embargoes between our channels of understanding lifted by the mutual trust we shared.
When I walked out of the restaurant, I had a spring in my step that wasn't there before. I felt like me, again.
Perhaps it had to do with the laughs we shared. It's always a joy to laugh unreservedly around people you know you can trust, knowing that you could do the silliest things and not be judged.
Perhaps it had to do with her kindly saying that I hadn't really changed much, that I might have weathered storms but fundamentally I was the same. I was touched that she remembered me that way, and that I was still the same person to her.
So thank you, for dinner today. It's great to know you are getting on so well, and that you've a most promising future ahead. Thank you too, in a way, for helping me remember the happy, carefree me I was a year ago, and for helping make me feel accepted.
Not all bits of the past are unpleasant ones, I guess.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Crisis Management
Recently, I did something that can best be summed up as not "thoroughly thought through".
You know the standard operating procedure. When an idea flashes by your mind, you're supposed to evaluate the consequences, and then sleep on it. If you still see things the same way a day later, a week later, then do it. Impulse is often hazardous!
It's not that gut instinct is always wrong. In fact, it's often right. The problem is, gut instinct does not illuminate the best way you can go about doing something. It merely shows you the shortest, most obvious path to your objective.
This quick and dirty route, by its very nature, misses out on the finer nuances or considerations that any person with a positive EQ score would pick up on. Even if you think you're instinctively savvy, trust me, hindsight will put you in your place.
But life doesn't quite play out by the book, does it? Many times we find ourselves pressed to make the best choice in a limited time, or else face paralysis by indecision.
And you will inevitably make a mistake, or perhaps simply not make the best call about something. Then, voila! The mistake may even blossom into a full-blown Richter 8.0 Crisis.
I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at first, for crises tend to do that. Initially, my mind did nothing but try to grapple with just how big the mess is, and I entertained a thousand useless questions like why did I do it that way and how could I not see a better choice.
But it got better the moment I cleanly excised all the emotional responses, and instead just focused on what I could do next. Given that the ogre of a Crisis had just hit puberty right before my eyes, what options were open to me, what possible courses of action might actually remedy the problem?
And then things got better.
This time around, I spent but an hour anguishing about the Crisis before I sprung into action. I'm improving, after all. One of the small graces in life, it seems.
You know the standard operating procedure. When an idea flashes by your mind, you're supposed to evaluate the consequences, and then sleep on it. If you still see things the same way a day later, a week later, then do it. Impulse is often hazardous!
It's not that gut instinct is always wrong. In fact, it's often right. The problem is, gut instinct does not illuminate the best way you can go about doing something. It merely shows you the shortest, most obvious path to your objective.
This quick and dirty route, by its very nature, misses out on the finer nuances or considerations that any person with a positive EQ score would pick up on. Even if you think you're instinctively savvy, trust me, hindsight will put you in your place.
But life doesn't quite play out by the book, does it? Many times we find ourselves pressed to make the best choice in a limited time, or else face paralysis by indecision.
And you will inevitably make a mistake, or perhaps simply not make the best call about something. Then, voila! The mistake may even blossom into a full-blown Richter 8.0 Crisis.
I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at first, for crises tend to do that. Initially, my mind did nothing but try to grapple with just how big the mess is, and I entertained a thousand useless questions like why did I do it that way and how could I not see a better choice.
But it got better the moment I cleanly excised all the emotional responses, and instead just focused on what I could do next. Given that the ogre of a Crisis had just hit puberty right before my eyes, what options were open to me, what possible courses of action might actually remedy the problem?
And then things got better.
This time around, I spent but an hour anguishing about the Crisis before I sprung into action. I'm improving, after all. One of the small graces in life, it seems.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Clarity
Tonight, was an important night for me. Very, very important.
Of course, different things are important to different people. Using a dash of olive oil instead of a splash may be inconsequential to the overstressed working mother trying to whip up a hasty dinner, but it is the world to the professional chef locked in the foremost culinary competition.
Yes?
Before tonight, the most dangerous, influential, perspective-wrenching movie I had watched was a little film starring Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. I have, literally, multiple drafts trying to pin down the magic in that movie, trying my best to explain its effect on me.
It says a lot that up till this date, I have yet to publish one single post on it. There's... just too much to explain. Maybe one day I'll gain the faculties to do so, who knows.
And tonight, I had the sublime pleasure of watching another such movie like that. It's called Stranger Than Fiction.
I'm quite sure that if you watched it, chances are that you would march up to me and berate me for wasting 2 hours of your life. It was quirky, you would say. It was disjointed, poorly edited, flawed, preachy, unrealistic, or just plain dumb.
I would smile, in some small part because I have heard that all before, and it didn't change how important the movie was to me.
But I would smile largely because, there are others who understand.
Of course, different things are important to different people. Using a dash of olive oil instead of a splash may be inconsequential to the overstressed working mother trying to whip up a hasty dinner, but it is the world to the professional chef locked in the foremost culinary competition.
Yes?
Before tonight, the most dangerous, influential, perspective-wrenching movie I had watched was a little film starring Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke. I have, literally, multiple drafts trying to pin down the magic in that movie, trying my best to explain its effect on me.
It says a lot that up till this date, I have yet to publish one single post on it. There's... just too much to explain. Maybe one day I'll gain the faculties to do so, who knows.
And tonight, I had the sublime pleasure of watching another such movie like that. It's called Stranger Than Fiction.
I'm quite sure that if you watched it, chances are that you would march up to me and berate me for wasting 2 hours of your life. It was quirky, you would say. It was disjointed, poorly edited, flawed, preachy, unrealistic, or just plain dumb.
I would smile, in some small part because I have heard that all before, and it didn't change how important the movie was to me.
But I would smile largely because, there are others who understand.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Rain From The Past 3: It Was For You, Too
The card lay on the table before me, coloured pens on the side. Already, most of it was filled up, all cheery messages wishing him the best in his studies overseas. Overhead, the PA system was already announcing that his Departure Gate was open. Not much time left.
And when I picked up the pen, inspiration struck! It coursed through me, a powerful jolt that effortlessly strung words together in my mind, forming a rhyming poem that was a touch humorous, no less!
Just to make sure it was all fine, I scribbled it out on a paper napkin I had. All through this while, she sat next to me at the cafe table, talking excitedly to the rest of our friends. When I was done, I gripped her hand under the table.
"Dear! Take a look at this little poem which I'm thinking of writing for his farewell card! Hehe, I think it's almost as funny as that one I wrote for you last week!"
But she was distracted. And honest, perhaps.
"What? Another poem? Please la, just write something simple? Not another one of your silly things." Another friend said something then, and she turned back to them, laughing.
I ended up writing "Hey man, all the best over there! Stay happy always!". Funny how long it took me to pen that message, when a moment ago I could have filled three cards without breaking a sweat.
When another friend chided me for taking so long to write so little, I begged for his forgiveness, saying I was never one for writing, and that he couldn't blame me for it. He smiled, said it didn't matter, and passed the card on.
I threw away the crushed napkin on the way home. I couldn't bring myself to look at the words anymore. I stole a quick glance at them at the airport, but they suddenly seemed juvenile, peurile... silly.
I didn't write poetry for a long time after. The words, they didn't flow.
And when I picked up the pen, inspiration struck! It coursed through me, a powerful jolt that effortlessly strung words together in my mind, forming a rhyming poem that was a touch humorous, no less!
Just to make sure it was all fine, I scribbled it out on a paper napkin I had. All through this while, she sat next to me at the cafe table, talking excitedly to the rest of our friends. When I was done, I gripped her hand under the table.
"Dear! Take a look at this little poem which I'm thinking of writing for his farewell card! Hehe, I think it's almost as funny as that one I wrote for you last week!"
But she was distracted. And honest, perhaps.
"What? Another poem? Please la, just write something simple? Not another one of your silly things." Another friend said something then, and she turned back to them, laughing.
I ended up writing "Hey man, all the best over there! Stay happy always!". Funny how long it took me to pen that message, when a moment ago I could have filled three cards without breaking a sweat.
When another friend chided me for taking so long to write so little, I begged for his forgiveness, saying I was never one for writing, and that he couldn't blame me for it. He smiled, said it didn't matter, and passed the card on.
I threw away the crushed napkin on the way home. I couldn't bring myself to look at the words anymore. I stole a quick glance at them at the airport, but they suddenly seemed juvenile, peurile... silly.
I didn't write poetry for a long time after. The words, they didn't flow.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Who Knows Best?
One of the more engaging cases we saw this week had all the elements of a classic Hong Kong gangster movie. It was a secret society trial, replete with harsh initiation rites, gang beatings, charismatic leaders and hapless victims.
The main differentiating factor though, was that the average age of the parties involved was 12, 13 years old.
At the trial's conclusion, the judge very sternly rebuked the kids, and forbade them from ever fraternizing with each other in school again. No meetings, no sitting together during recess, no hanging out after lessons. Nada. Zilch. A complete separation, break, split.
And that was what struck me the most.
See, the children were friends to begin with, even before the gang recruited them. They might still be friends now, even after the gang was dispersed.
But the court didn't care. The court, applying an objective standard, had decided that it was better for the children to stay apart, that it was in their best interests that they be separated, never to cross paths again. The standard was arguably a reasonable one, culled from years of academic research into the behavioural patterns of gang members, years of accumulated wisdom regarding child rearing, so on and so forth.
It didn't matter whether the children still wanted to be friends - the understanding was that they were too young or immature to decide what was best for themselves, and that society's neutral, passionless objective standard decried that they be isolated from one another.
Children grow up. We grow up too. Eventually.
Does a consensus distilled from the opinions of a thousand reasonable men always outperform an individual's own reasoned choice?
I wonder, is there ever a point when we are wise enough to choose our own paths, or will we always yield to society's collective wisdom?
The main differentiating factor though, was that the average age of the parties involved was 12, 13 years old.
At the trial's conclusion, the judge very sternly rebuked the kids, and forbade them from ever fraternizing with each other in school again. No meetings, no sitting together during recess, no hanging out after lessons. Nada. Zilch. A complete separation, break, split.
And that was what struck me the most.
See, the children were friends to begin with, even before the gang recruited them. They might still be friends now, even after the gang was dispersed.
But the court didn't care. The court, applying an objective standard, had decided that it was better for the children to stay apart, that it was in their best interests that they be separated, never to cross paths again. The standard was arguably a reasonable one, culled from years of academic research into the behavioural patterns of gang members, years of accumulated wisdom regarding child rearing, so on and so forth.
It didn't matter whether the children still wanted to be friends - the understanding was that they were too young or immature to decide what was best for themselves, and that society's neutral, passionless objective standard decried that they be isolated from one another.
Children grow up. We grow up too. Eventually.
Does a consensus distilled from the opinions of a thousand reasonable men always outperform an individual's own reasoned choice?
I wonder, is there ever a point when we are wise enough to choose our own paths, or will we always yield to society's collective wisdom?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Beating
I'm a Chinese dude. With conservative Chinese parents. Of course I was beaten when I was a kid.
As a child I was generally suicidal in the way I did things, being unable to, as my teacher put it, "think of the consequences beyond the next five minutes". I would run into glass walls, use my knees as brakes, jump happily into potholes. Pain was my constant, familiar companion.
So why did the beatings I received all those years ago, still manage to drive icy spikes of dread into my little heart? It couldn't be fear of the pain, right? You don't see Michael Jackson afraid of minor operations anymore, yes? Or JBJ afraid of minor parking fines, for that matter?
Now, years on, I understand why. It wasn't fear of the pain per se. It was a lethal cocktail of pain, shame in the knowledge you did wrong, and disappointing your parents. More on that later.
My parents got the beatings down to a fine art pretty fast too. They were complementary, that's why. My mum's the Good Cop, the nagger, the one who continually cajoles you until the wax drips out of your ears. She would threaten to hit me, but never could bring herself to. She was the one who would set me up for...
... the Bad Cop. My dad. The one who lurks in the background, doesn't speak much, who distractedly plays with Inquisitory Tools of Pain while you're trying to answer the Good Cop. And when he spanked me, it wasn't mere half-hearted Western-parent spanking... it was Golden Lotus Unfolding Palms Spanking. The Shaolin kind.
A typical Disciplinary Proceeding would thus unfold something like this:
Me: You're being unfair! It wasn't my fault!
Mum: Teng, please! We're doing this for your own good! Come, come listen to mummy...
Dad: *skulks in background*
Me: No, no! You tell me, what did I do wrong!
Mum: How many times have we told you, it's wrong to fight with your brother! You're older than him, you're supposed to take care of him!
Me: He bit me first!
Mum: He's a toddler! He doesn't know better!
Dad: *flicks a cane rhythmically against a table, hums "I Will Survive"*
Mum: You don't hit your friends right? So why hit your brother?
Me: 'Cause he's my brother! My friends would complain to their parents!
Mum: ... how disappointing. You leave me with no choice. Repent while you can, sinner!
Dad: *GOLDEN LOTUS UNFOLDING PALMS*
Of course, there were many times when I would think of retaliating. Just like the delinquents in movies, I would push my mother away, or something like that. But then I would think of my dad, and I would just whimper and give up. Heck, what did I have in my arsenal at that age, Raging Vengeful Rabbit Paw?
But children learn fast. Did not Sun Tzi once say, "What you cannot beat defeat head-on, you run the hell away from"? I soon learnt to recognize the signs, and before my parents could tag-team me I would go ballistic, zipping all over the house screaming bloody murder. Oh the glory days... I was faster and more unpredictable than a headless chicken with a firecracker up its egg-laying chute!
Of course, I knew I was going to get the same beating at the end, but heck, I had to have them earn it. Plus, the pre-emptive release of endorphins always made things easier to bear.
Which is why I'm always shocked when friends tell me they've never been caned / spanked / slapped by their parents before. It's the same shock AC* boys get when they head to Uni and find that other people are well-adjusted and pleasant and nice. Growing up in a world where physical punishment was a very real consequence indeed, I can't imagine how other kids could learn without a decent amount of corporal punishment.
It all boils down to the two main schools of thought regarding disciplining kids. On one extreme we have the modern Western teachings, which exhort reasoning with children and guiding them towards understanding the import of their actions. Children are goaded with incentives / disincentives, but never physical punishment.
On the other extreme, we have the Asian Kung-Fu teachings. Here, you may reason, you may persuade, you may cajole, but there will be a beating. If you need further elaboration, just watch Russell Peters.
In my opinion, the approach you adopt depends on the kid you have. I've observed that younger, immature kids can't reason for nuts (see above as to how I justified beating my brother over my friends), and it's fruitless trying to reason with them. What's the point in spending hours persuading a petulant 6 year-old anorexic-to-be that she needs her nutrition?
Yet, once the child develops a semblance of a functional self-aware brain, then reasoning is crucial. Beating drives home very clear boundaries, but when explanations and guidance are absent for too long, the child's moral growth is stunted, and lacks the necessary nuance.
And once the child develops a conscience, you can retire the canes and the secret Kung Fu manuals. You've been through it yourself. You're initially all defensive when your parents berate you over something, but slowly you begin to see the whole picture, and eventually you know you're wrong. And all without a beating, too.
I'm not saying that without beating you can never teach a kid well. I'm saying chances are higher that with a lil' harsh love you can guide them faster, earlier. So if by chance you're around 4 - 8 years old, and reading this, and have never been beaten before, please ask your parents to beat you.
Just don't say it with a wink in your eyes. I don't know about your parents, but if I did that to my conservative Chinese parents... whoaaaaa, mama.
As a child I was generally suicidal in the way I did things, being unable to, as my teacher put it, "think of the consequences beyond the next five minutes". I would run into glass walls, use my knees as brakes, jump happily into potholes. Pain was my constant, familiar companion.
So why did the beatings I received all those years ago, still manage to drive icy spikes of dread into my little heart? It couldn't be fear of the pain, right? You don't see Michael Jackson afraid of minor operations anymore, yes? Or JBJ afraid of minor parking fines, for that matter?
Now, years on, I understand why. It wasn't fear of the pain per se. It was a lethal cocktail of pain, shame in the knowledge you did wrong, and disappointing your parents. More on that later.
My parents got the beatings down to a fine art pretty fast too. They were complementary, that's why. My mum's the Good Cop, the nagger, the one who continually cajoles you until the wax drips out of your ears. She would threaten to hit me, but never could bring herself to. She was the one who would set me up for...
... the Bad Cop. My dad. The one who lurks in the background, doesn't speak much, who distractedly plays with Inquisitory Tools of Pain while you're trying to answer the Good Cop. And when he spanked me, it wasn't mere half-hearted Western-parent spanking... it was Golden Lotus Unfolding Palms Spanking. The Shaolin kind.
A typical Disciplinary Proceeding would thus unfold something like this:
Me: You're being unfair! It wasn't my fault!
Mum: Teng, please! We're doing this for your own good! Come, come listen to mummy...
Dad: *skulks in background*
Me: No, no! You tell me, what did I do wrong!
Mum: How many times have we told you, it's wrong to fight with your brother! You're older than him, you're supposed to take care of him!
Me: He bit me first!
Mum: He's a toddler! He doesn't know better!
Dad: *flicks a cane rhythmically against a table, hums "I Will Survive"*
Mum: You don't hit your friends right? So why hit your brother?
Me: 'Cause he's my brother! My friends would complain to their parents!
Mum: ... how disappointing. You leave me with no choice. Repent while you can, sinner!
Dad: *GOLDEN LOTUS UNFOLDING PALMS*
Of course, there were many times when I would think of retaliating. Just like the delinquents in movies, I would push my mother away, or something like that. But then I would think of my dad, and I would just whimper and give up. Heck, what did I have in my arsenal at that age, Raging Vengeful Rabbit Paw?
But children learn fast. Did not Sun Tzi once say, "What you cannot beat defeat head-on, you run the hell away from"? I soon learnt to recognize the signs, and before my parents could tag-team me I would go ballistic, zipping all over the house screaming bloody murder. Oh the glory days... I was faster and more unpredictable than a headless chicken with a firecracker up its egg-laying chute!
Of course, I knew I was going to get the same beating at the end, but heck, I had to have them earn it. Plus, the pre-emptive release of endorphins always made things easier to bear.
Which is why I'm always shocked when friends tell me they've never been caned / spanked / slapped by their parents before. It's the same shock AC* boys get when they head to Uni and find that other people are well-adjusted and pleasant and nice. Growing up in a world where physical punishment was a very real consequence indeed, I can't imagine how other kids could learn without a decent amount of corporal punishment.
It all boils down to the two main schools of thought regarding disciplining kids. On one extreme we have the modern Western teachings, which exhort reasoning with children and guiding them towards understanding the import of their actions. Children are goaded with incentives / disincentives, but never physical punishment.
On the other extreme, we have the Asian Kung-Fu teachings. Here, you may reason, you may persuade, you may cajole, but there will be a beating. If you need further elaboration, just watch Russell Peters.
In my opinion, the approach you adopt depends on the kid you have. I've observed that younger, immature kids can't reason for nuts (see above as to how I justified beating my brother over my friends), and it's fruitless trying to reason with them. What's the point in spending hours persuading a petulant 6 year-old anorexic-to-be that she needs her nutrition?
Yet, once the child develops a semblance of a functional self-aware brain, then reasoning is crucial. Beating drives home very clear boundaries, but when explanations and guidance are absent for too long, the child's moral growth is stunted, and lacks the necessary nuance.
And once the child develops a conscience, you can retire the canes and the secret Kung Fu manuals. You've been through it yourself. You're initially all defensive when your parents berate you over something, but slowly you begin to see the whole picture, and eventually you know you're wrong. And all without a beating, too.
I'm not saying that without beating you can never teach a kid well. I'm saying chances are higher that with a lil' harsh love you can guide them faster, earlier. So if by chance you're around 4 - 8 years old, and reading this, and have never been beaten before, please ask your parents to beat you.
Just don't say it with a wink in your eyes. I don't know about your parents, but if I did that to my conservative Chinese parents... whoaaaaa, mama.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Ladies Of The Night
There was no love here.
I could smell sickly-sweet alcoholic fumes flirting with bitter-dry cigarette smoke, I could hear the ladies laughing their rehearsed, high-pitch schoolgirl squeals, I could taste the primal, naked lust in the air.
But no love. I could sense no love here. Not in this dimly-lit 7-11 of vices. Love was even more elusive here than an emboldened demon making merry in the streets of heaven.
I pushed past couples locked in embrace, their passions on coarse, open display. My neck itched, victim both of my vanity and the new shirt I had just bought. I came here the night before as an ordinary, forgettable leaf from the past, but tonight... I wanted her to remember me.
There she was, seated between two men, their arms around her like diseased tendrils across her fair skin. A curious mix of jealousy and anger bubbled in me. I had no right to feel that way, not when she was not mine. Not anyone's, for that matter.
She recognized me, a fleeting moment before I wrenched her away from them. And in those seconds as she was uprooted, she suddenly looked lost, confused, her gaities falling away like melting wax. No longer the confident, commanding lady of the night she pretended to be.
At a quiet corner, she lit up, pointedly looking away as the smoke rings danced away from her.
"You can't just pull me away like that. They will be angry, and you don't exactly look like the sort who can defend yourself."
"I can pay. I will pay. Look, just come away with me, again." I sounded desperate. I didn't care.
She laughed. "Pay? And towards what purpose? I'm a girl who likes to earn her money, you know, and last night didn't do much for me at all."
I wasn't shaken - the facade was as plain as day. "You lie. It was the best damned night you've had since forever, and you know it. Come with me, again, please."
She was silent for a while, then she struck out at me like an enraged rattlesnake. I was pushed back against the wall hard, but the pain barely registered. I could only notice the creases in her makeup, thin flaking lines etched in by the scowl she wore.
"Last night did not happen. You hear me?"
"It did, and nothing you can do will make you forget it."
"No. You came to me for my body, paid for it, got what you wanted, and you left. That's what happened. Another simple transaction in this sprawling existance of ours."
"I never wanted your body, never touched it. I only came to talk to you. You know that."
My perseverance was paying off. Just like last night, her defences were coming down, one at a time. The brimming tears of anger in her coloured-contacts-eyes said it all.
"You had no right to do that, you hear me? You had no right to spend the whole night doing nothing but talk to me, talking like we are still the friends we were so long ago. You were supposed to come in, take me, then leave! Not linger like this!"
I placed a hand on her shoulder, and waited for her to calm down. "I'm sorry," I found myself saying, "You said you were lonely last night, and all I wanted was to talk to you again. That's all."
When she eventually looked up it was as I feared. The mask was rigidly in place again, the pleasant, genial, vacant expression she wore for all her customers.
"Honey. Last night won't ever happen again. That girl you talked to, the one you shared old stories and laughed with, she's not living here anymore. She left a note for you, though. She said she's moved away, and if ever she finds a place of her own again, she'll contact you, so don't bother looking for her now."
She patted my cheek in that infuriatingly condescending way of hers.
"She said, don't be so idealistic anymore. Our youth has deserted us. You think you have choices in life, that you're always in control, but it's not so simple. We all have responsibilities, wouldn't you agree?"
"You know that's not true. You know that..." Her finger to my lip cut me off. I'm weak that way.
"Don't spoil the moment." She smiled then, but from whom the smile sprung from I was no longer sure. "If it matters to you that much, she also says thank you, for being nice to her last night. She felt... appreciated, and maybe one day, one day she would like to feel that way again."
I lost her then. She turned and slipped back effortlessly into that black, oil-slicked sea of leering faces and earnest hands. My feet guided me out, for I could not stay and watch. The pain was killing me.
To anyone else my resolve to return and try again may seem suicidally stupid, but no one else saw her as I did last night. And if they did, they would know it would be worth it.
Another day it would have to be, then.
* This was inspired by a friend's post, and is not reflective of my real life. Maybe the emo bits, but not the salacious bits. Sigh.
I could smell sickly-sweet alcoholic fumes flirting with bitter-dry cigarette smoke, I could hear the ladies laughing their rehearsed, high-pitch schoolgirl squeals, I could taste the primal, naked lust in the air.
But no love. I could sense no love here. Not in this dimly-lit 7-11 of vices. Love was even more elusive here than an emboldened demon making merry in the streets of heaven.
I pushed past couples locked in embrace, their passions on coarse, open display. My neck itched, victim both of my vanity and the new shirt I had just bought. I came here the night before as an ordinary, forgettable leaf from the past, but tonight... I wanted her to remember me.
There she was, seated between two men, their arms around her like diseased tendrils across her fair skin. A curious mix of jealousy and anger bubbled in me. I had no right to feel that way, not when she was not mine. Not anyone's, for that matter.
She recognized me, a fleeting moment before I wrenched her away from them. And in those seconds as she was uprooted, she suddenly looked lost, confused, her gaities falling away like melting wax. No longer the confident, commanding lady of the night she pretended to be.
At a quiet corner, she lit up, pointedly looking away as the smoke rings danced away from her.
"You can't just pull me away like that. They will be angry, and you don't exactly look like the sort who can defend yourself."
"I can pay. I will pay. Look, just come away with me, again." I sounded desperate. I didn't care.
She laughed. "Pay? And towards what purpose? I'm a girl who likes to earn her money, you know, and last night didn't do much for me at all."
I wasn't shaken - the facade was as plain as day. "You lie. It was the best damned night you've had since forever, and you know it. Come with me, again, please."
She was silent for a while, then she struck out at me like an enraged rattlesnake. I was pushed back against the wall hard, but the pain barely registered. I could only notice the creases in her makeup, thin flaking lines etched in by the scowl she wore.
"Last night did not happen. You hear me?"
"It did, and nothing you can do will make you forget it."
"No. You came to me for my body, paid for it, got what you wanted, and you left. That's what happened. Another simple transaction in this sprawling existance of ours."
"I never wanted your body, never touched it. I only came to talk to you. You know that."
My perseverance was paying off. Just like last night, her defences were coming down, one at a time. The brimming tears of anger in her coloured-contacts-eyes said it all.
"You had no right to do that, you hear me? You had no right to spend the whole night doing nothing but talk to me, talking like we are still the friends we were so long ago. You were supposed to come in, take me, then leave! Not linger like this!"
I placed a hand on her shoulder, and waited for her to calm down. "I'm sorry," I found myself saying, "You said you were lonely last night, and all I wanted was to talk to you again. That's all."
When she eventually looked up it was as I feared. The mask was rigidly in place again, the pleasant, genial, vacant expression she wore for all her customers.
"Honey. Last night won't ever happen again. That girl you talked to, the one you shared old stories and laughed with, she's not living here anymore. She left a note for you, though. She said she's moved away, and if ever she finds a place of her own again, she'll contact you, so don't bother looking for her now."
She patted my cheek in that infuriatingly condescending way of hers.
"She said, don't be so idealistic anymore. Our youth has deserted us. You think you have choices in life, that you're always in control, but it's not so simple. We all have responsibilities, wouldn't you agree?"
"You know that's not true. You know that..." Her finger to my lip cut me off. I'm weak that way.
"Don't spoil the moment." She smiled then, but from whom the smile sprung from I was no longer sure. "If it matters to you that much, she also says thank you, for being nice to her last night. She felt... appreciated, and maybe one day, one day she would like to feel that way again."
I lost her then. She turned and slipped back effortlessly into that black, oil-slicked sea of leering faces and earnest hands. My feet guided me out, for I could not stay and watch. The pain was killing me.
To anyone else my resolve to return and try again may seem suicidally stupid, but no one else saw her as I did last night. And if they did, they would know it would be worth it.
Another day it would have to be, then.
* This was inspired by a friend's post, and is not reflective of my real life. Maybe the emo bits, but not the salacious bits. Sigh.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Diet III
See, girls diet.
We all know that. And they diet for an amazing host of reasons which actually do sound reasonable, once you have the reasons chanted to you ad nauseum for hours on end.
(Think of it as your body’s natural survival instincts. There's a point when your will to argue back just withers, and one by one your brain cells die, and you just nod and agree. It's better than expending all your energy in a futile exercise)
What, you think naggy mothers pop out of nowhere? They have to cut their teeth somewhere too, you know.
But what surprised me was this. Guys. Diet. TOO.
And for the same reasons! For wanting to feel attractive, for wanting to fit into their clothes, for wanting to look good. Some do it for health reasons, but even then, there are healthier ways to get healthy (yes I have poor vocab, deal with it).
Just to be very clear, I’m not talking about Eating-The-Right-Food-Groups Dieting, but Today-Shall-Be-A-Water-Only-Day Dieting. There’s an objective line which I figure isn’t that hard to spot.
I’m surprised because I thought that girls are judged by their appearances, overwhelmingly more so than guys are, and therefore they are justified in a warped sort of way. But guys?
Of course, this doesn’t mean that guys should just flip off personal grooming and let their bodies go to ruin. Urgh. Let’s just say that if you diet, you better bloody know why you’re dieting.
So, in the quest towards beneficial dieting, some myths need to be debunked.
First, girls don’t really want us for the way our bodies are sculptured. True, if we all looked like Homer Simpson the only thing we’ll be turning on at night are our PS3s. But see, that’s only the first stage of attraction.
I mean, girls want us for so much more! They do, eventually, ascribe far greater weight to the other qualities we possess, like the way we are sensitive to their needs or how we keep them feeling secure.
Just ask the girls. Could they really live with a Greek God who had no other redeeming qualities they wanted? Sure, you’ll have something hunky to keep you company at night, but how much understanding can his six perfect abs give you? How much meaningful conversation can you get out of a pair of bursting pecs?
You: Sigh, darling, I had such a bad day today.
Pecs: *wiggle*
You: My boss picked on me, my colleagues backstabbed me, and I spoilt the photocopier. Please, say something to make the pain go away…
Pecs: *wiggle wiggle*
Second, everyone needs a little meat on them. Looking thin and lanky is not necessarily attractive! The key isn’t in exactly how thin or fat you are. The key is in looking healthy, exuberant, radiant. It’s how healthy an image you project that matters.
It’s almost an evolutionary trait, prizing healthiness over thinness. How do you think husbands still manage to summon so much love for their pregnant wives (aside from the threats of hormone-induced violence) ? You’ve seen that magical glow some pregnant women have, despite their… slight increase in size.
Overly-thin people just look fragile, wouldn’t you agree? People worry about being classified as ‘bak bak’, or fleshy, but in truth the most attractive people out there are reasonably meaty. If you starved yourself just so you could proudly exhibit your protruding hip bones or rib cage, trust me, people would look at you and feel instinctively that something was not quite right.
So, to my guy friends out there, diet because you want a balanced intake of food. Diet because it’s healthy for you. Please don’t diet simply because you think it makes you look hotter, more attractive.
I can’t deny that physical attraction does matter, but the effort you put into dieting can also be channeled into making yourself a more complete, attractive individual, yes?
And to show my commitment to my beliefs, I shall don a dark cape and assume the identity of Food Man. And wherever I find a guy who diets for dubious reasons, I will tempt you.
I will scoff at your Vegetables-Only Diet. I will point out every single KFC and BK we pass by, and I will recite their latest menu additions. I will recount intimate accounts of when I last had a fantastic, wholesome, sinful meal. I will moannn and shake uncontrollably whenever we see a Kinder Bueno commercial.
I will not stop, until I see you happily eating again.
For I am Food Man.
* You can find my other posts on Diets here and here. =)
We all know that. And they diet for an amazing host of reasons which actually do sound reasonable, once you have the reasons chanted to you ad nauseum for hours on end.
(Think of it as your body’s natural survival instincts. There's a point when your will to argue back just withers, and one by one your brain cells die, and you just nod and agree. It's better than expending all your energy in a futile exercise)
What, you think naggy mothers pop out of nowhere? They have to cut their teeth somewhere too, you know.
But what surprised me was this. Guys. Diet. TOO.
And for the same reasons! For wanting to feel attractive, for wanting to fit into their clothes, for wanting to look good. Some do it for health reasons, but even then, there are healthier ways to get healthy (yes I have poor vocab, deal with it).
Just to be very clear, I’m not talking about Eating-The-Right-Food-Groups Dieting, but Today-Shall-Be-A-Water-Only-Day Dieting. There’s an objective line which I figure isn’t that hard to spot.
I’m surprised because I thought that girls are judged by their appearances, overwhelmingly more so than guys are, and therefore they are justified in a warped sort of way. But guys?
Of course, this doesn’t mean that guys should just flip off personal grooming and let their bodies go to ruin. Urgh. Let’s just say that if you diet, you better bloody know why you’re dieting.
So, in the quest towards beneficial dieting, some myths need to be debunked.
First, girls don’t really want us for the way our bodies are sculptured. True, if we all looked like Homer Simpson the only thing we’ll be turning on at night are our PS3s. But see, that’s only the first stage of attraction.
I mean, girls want us for so much more! They do, eventually, ascribe far greater weight to the other qualities we possess, like the way we are sensitive to their needs or how we keep them feeling secure.
Just ask the girls. Could they really live with a Greek God who had no other redeeming qualities they wanted? Sure, you’ll have something hunky to keep you company at night, but how much understanding can his six perfect abs give you? How much meaningful conversation can you get out of a pair of bursting pecs?
You: Sigh, darling, I had such a bad day today.
Pecs: *wiggle*
You: My boss picked on me, my colleagues backstabbed me, and I spoilt the photocopier. Please, say something to make the pain go away…
Pecs: *wiggle wiggle*
Second, everyone needs a little meat on them. Looking thin and lanky is not necessarily attractive! The key isn’t in exactly how thin or fat you are. The key is in looking healthy, exuberant, radiant. It’s how healthy an image you project that matters.
It’s almost an evolutionary trait, prizing healthiness over thinness. How do you think husbands still manage to summon so much love for their pregnant wives (aside from the threats of hormone-induced violence) ? You’ve seen that magical glow some pregnant women have, despite their… slight increase in size.
Overly-thin people just look fragile, wouldn’t you agree? People worry about being classified as ‘bak bak’, or fleshy, but in truth the most attractive people out there are reasonably meaty. If you starved yourself just so you could proudly exhibit your protruding hip bones or rib cage, trust me, people would look at you and feel instinctively that something was not quite right.
So, to my guy friends out there, diet because you want a balanced intake of food. Diet because it’s healthy for you. Please don’t diet simply because you think it makes you look hotter, more attractive.
I can’t deny that physical attraction does matter, but the effort you put into dieting can also be channeled into making yourself a more complete, attractive individual, yes?
And to show my commitment to my beliefs, I shall don a dark cape and assume the identity of Food Man. And wherever I find a guy who diets for dubious reasons, I will tempt you.
I will scoff at your Vegetables-Only Diet. I will point out every single KFC and BK we pass by, and I will recite their latest menu additions. I will recount intimate accounts of when I last had a fantastic, wholesome, sinful meal. I will moannn and shake uncontrollably whenever we see a Kinder Bueno commercial.
I will not stop, until I see you happily eating again.
For I am Food Man.
* You can find my other posts on Diets here and here. =)
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
No Need For Words
We sat in the public gallery of the courtroom, all 12 of us Legal Service interns. We knew it was a criminal trial for charges of drug trafficking, but we couldn't help feeling a little bit detached.
After all, hadn't we already seen enough of these cases in our textbooks? Hadn't we already plowed through the arguments for and against the death penalty, in relation to Singaporean drug trafficking charges? Hadn't we already seen it all?
So there we were, insulated against cold, harsh reality. We were detached observers, mere spectators.
Until the accused came in. And started gesturing to his family in sign language. The thick panes of glass between them may have inhibited sound and distorted sight, but they did nothing to stem the torrents of understanding that flowed in those moments.
Fingers trailing down his cheeks, furrowed brows, a quick shake of the head. Don't cry for me. Whatever you do don't cry. A thumbs up, a tentative, manic grin. Of course I'm fine, why would I not be fine?
Open palms, nonchalent shrugs, undulating shoulders. I won't know what will happen, how could I? Why worry now? Chin tilted upwards, raised eyebrows, head jerking in their direction. Is mother fine? Is grandma fine? Are you two boys ok?
A crooked index finger. A quick draw across the neck. But still, still that cheerful, weary, belaboured smile. I will hang. I know I will. But life goes on, right? Don't be sad for me.
I tried hard to concentrate on the legal arguments being bandied around. But this wasn't a textbook case anymore. There was no court reporter here to excise all the cancerous emotions and reduce the proceedings to black print upon white paper. It was real.
In time I guess I will be desensitized, and I will learn to focus only on the arguments before me. But I hope that time will be a long time in coming.
After all, hadn't we already seen enough of these cases in our textbooks? Hadn't we already plowed through the arguments for and against the death penalty, in relation to Singaporean drug trafficking charges? Hadn't we already seen it all?
So there we were, insulated against cold, harsh reality. We were detached observers, mere spectators.
Until the accused came in. And started gesturing to his family in sign language. The thick panes of glass between them may have inhibited sound and distorted sight, but they did nothing to stem the torrents of understanding that flowed in those moments.
Fingers trailing down his cheeks, furrowed brows, a quick shake of the head. Don't cry for me. Whatever you do don't cry. A thumbs up, a tentative, manic grin. Of course I'm fine, why would I not be fine?
Open palms, nonchalent shrugs, undulating shoulders. I won't know what will happen, how could I? Why worry now? Chin tilted upwards, raised eyebrows, head jerking in their direction. Is mother fine? Is grandma fine? Are you two boys ok?
A crooked index finger. A quick draw across the neck. But still, still that cheerful, weary, belaboured smile. I will hang. I know I will. But life goes on, right? Don't be sad for me.
I tried hard to concentrate on the legal arguments being bandied around. But this wasn't a textbook case anymore. There was no court reporter here to excise all the cancerous emotions and reduce the proceedings to black print upon white paper. It was real.
In time I guess I will be desensitized, and I will learn to focus only on the arguments before me. But I hope that time will be a long time in coming.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Letter To The Past
Dear Hanting of so-long-ago,
My my, it's not been one year since you wrote that letter, but a full seven years. Seven years, seven years of growth, of experience, of observing how the world ticks.
Remember back in Primary Three, when you thought kissing led to babies? ... Ok in a way kissing does lead to babies, just not directly, argh you know what I mean. And when you discovered the truth you laughed so hard at Primary-Three-Hanting?
Well, in a way, I also couldn't help laughing when I read what you wrote, Sec-Four-Hanting. It's not that I am being condescending... it's just slightly amusing to imagine your eyes shining with bright, wild-eyed idealism as you penned your thoughts back in Jan 2000.
I wish I could reveal all that lies ahead of you, so that you may avoid the pitfalls, and fully treasure the fleeting flashes of happiness that pass you by. But we both know we can't do that. You won't learn as much, will you?
What I can do, is to provide the merest glimpses into what you will become.
You will learn how to fully cherish your friends, family and loved ones. I know it’s a constant struggle for you, seeking the best way to provide for them, but take heart. You will be proud someday at the way you reach out to them.
Yet, you will not remain unscathed forever. Disappointments may tattoo their dalliances with you on the canvas of your soul, but you will be glad for the lessons they bring. Take heart too! Bitterness and anger will never take root for long, for though you may be damaged, you still are whole.
The rest is for you to discover. Exciting, ain't it?
My my, it's not been one year since you wrote that letter, but a full seven years. Seven years, seven years of growth, of experience, of observing how the world ticks.
Remember back in Primary Three, when you thought kissing led to babies? ... Ok in a way kissing does lead to babies, just not directly, argh you know what I mean. And when you discovered the truth you laughed so hard at Primary-Three-Hanting?
Well, in a way, I also couldn't help laughing when I read what you wrote, Sec-Four-Hanting. It's not that I am being condescending... it's just slightly amusing to imagine your eyes shining with bright, wild-eyed idealism as you penned your thoughts back in Jan 2000.
I wish I could reveal all that lies ahead of you, so that you may avoid the pitfalls, and fully treasure the fleeting flashes of happiness that pass you by. But we both know we can't do that. You won't learn as much, will you?
What I can do, is to provide the merest glimpses into what you will become.
You will learn how to fully cherish your friends, family and loved ones. I know it’s a constant struggle for you, seeking the best way to provide for them, but take heart. You will be proud someday at the way you reach out to them.
Yet, you will not remain unscathed forever. Disappointments may tattoo their dalliances with you on the canvas of your soul, but you will be glad for the lessons they bring. Take heart too! Bitterness and anger will never take root for long, for though you may be damaged, you still are whole.
The rest is for you to discover. Exciting, ain't it?
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Letter To The Future
Back in Sec 4 our tutor made us write letters to ourselves. At the beginning of the year, we were to detail the personal growth we wanted to experience, the goals we wanted to attain, by the end of the year.
Our tutor would collect the letters, and mail them back to us after we graduated. It would be a good way for us to chart our progress through life, he said.
And this was what I wrote:
"Dear fat-shit, haha, I bet you've forgetten about this. But Mr. Indra hasn't, so here you are, with what you wrote back in Jan 2000.
I wonder how you are now, really. Did your O's go well? Did you finally manage to pass Maths? Haha, did you manage to improve at carrom, or win anything at Nationals?
It's mind-boggling, trying to predict what would happen 365 days later. The possibilities are just endless... but you and I both know, aside from these practical achievements, there are more important things at stake.
How are you, as a person? Do you still stand for the values I stand for now?
Have you managed to reach out to your parents and brother? I know it's difficult to, and it's terribly easy to lead a life separate from theirs, but don't. Any friction you've experienced so far is merely the result of them trying to weave you into their lives, trying to share their experiences with you. I have to write this to remind you, because you tend to forget all this sometimes.
Do you still give your friends your all? Are you still investing the energy and time into keeping your friendships alive and well? No man's an island, and you know you have the propensity to keep to yourself at times... but don't. You've already learnt that friends enrich the world, so don't backtrack now. If you have no idea how valuable they all, all the more you should not easily discount them.
Have you gotten attached? Haha, have you broken up, for that matter? I have no idea what falling in or out of love feels like, but right now I know if I'm attached, I would really bend over backwards to give her my all. She's precious, so never take her for granted... always trust her, always be open with her. If she lets you down, please don't change because of her. Someone else is waiting for you, someone else who wants you the way you are. You know that.
Continue to improve, Hanting. Be the person you want to be. Be open with people, caring, sensitive, funny, thoughtful, engaging. You like it too, don't you, when you help make people smile? Take pride in being able to avoid the common mistakes other people fall into. Go out there and make every day memorable, for you and the people around you!
You have a duty to bring happiness and meaning to the people around you, because it is already so easy to sow discord and cynicism for life... If ever you feel lost and unsure of what to do, pretend Ms. Gan's still here, and just imagine what she would advise you to do. She was usually right.
I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that you are smiling as you are reading all this. If not, then remember that one year ago you were me, with all this idealism and conviction to save the world your way.
Whether or not this letter serves as a mere milestone to mark your journey, or a signpost to guide you back to the path, I just want to say... I can't wait to read this myself again one day. I want to know what I've become."
Our tutor would collect the letters, and mail them back to us after we graduated. It would be a good way for us to chart our progress through life, he said.
And this was what I wrote:
"Dear fat-shit, haha, I bet you've forgetten about this. But Mr. Indra hasn't, so here you are, with what you wrote back in Jan 2000.
I wonder how you are now, really. Did your O's go well? Did you finally manage to pass Maths? Haha, did you manage to improve at carrom, or win anything at Nationals?
It's mind-boggling, trying to predict what would happen 365 days later. The possibilities are just endless... but you and I both know, aside from these practical achievements, there are more important things at stake.
How are you, as a person? Do you still stand for the values I stand for now?
Have you managed to reach out to your parents and brother? I know it's difficult to, and it's terribly easy to lead a life separate from theirs, but don't. Any friction you've experienced so far is merely the result of them trying to weave you into their lives, trying to share their experiences with you. I have to write this to remind you, because you tend to forget all this sometimes.
Do you still give your friends your all? Are you still investing the energy and time into keeping your friendships alive and well? No man's an island, and you know you have the propensity to keep to yourself at times... but don't. You've already learnt that friends enrich the world, so don't backtrack now. If you have no idea how valuable they all, all the more you should not easily discount them.
Have you gotten attached? Haha, have you broken up, for that matter? I have no idea what falling in or out of love feels like, but right now I know if I'm attached, I would really bend over backwards to give her my all. She's precious, so never take her for granted... always trust her, always be open with her. If she lets you down, please don't change because of her. Someone else is waiting for you, someone else who wants you the way you are. You know that.
Continue to improve, Hanting. Be the person you want to be. Be open with people, caring, sensitive, funny, thoughtful, engaging. You like it too, don't you, when you help make people smile? Take pride in being able to avoid the common mistakes other people fall into. Go out there and make every day memorable, for you and the people around you!
You have a duty to bring happiness and meaning to the people around you, because it is already so easy to sow discord and cynicism for life... If ever you feel lost and unsure of what to do, pretend Ms. Gan's still here, and just imagine what she would advise you to do. She was usually right.
I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that you are smiling as you are reading all this. If not, then remember that one year ago you were me, with all this idealism and conviction to save the world your way.
Whether or not this letter serves as a mere milestone to mark your journey, or a signpost to guide you back to the path, I just want to say... I can't wait to read this myself again one day. I want to know what I've become."
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Ignorance Is Bliss
Inspiration really does come from the most unexpected of places. Last night, my muse happened to be... an episode of Heroes.
Now, most of the stuff on Heroes (or TV, for that matter) comes perilously close to being cheesy. Themes like believing in yourself, or self-sacrifice for the greater good. It gets painful to watch at times, but then I remind myself, hey there's Claire Bennet, and things get better.
But last night one particular line struck me, and the irony was that it came from a baddie. And the line goes, "I think, there comes a time when a man has to ask himself, whether he wants a Life of Happiness, or a Life of Meaning?"
He went on to explain, that for a LOH a man would live entirely in the present, focusing on the joys in front of him, never thinking about the past or the future. But for a LOM, a man would be "condemned to wallow in the past, and obsess about the future", for it was in such introspection that he would understand his place in life.
And I give up on Nathan Perelli, who could only stare blankly back at the baddie. Heck, two questions were already racing through my mind: Can there ever be a middleground, for how can one say that there is no Meaning within Happiness, or Happiness when Meaning dawns? And, are people naturally predisposed to either path?
While it's very possible for all of us to dabble in both paths at different stages in our lives, I still think people are naturally built to follow one path. It's really got to do with the way you think.
Take friend A. He's always been mature, rational, intelligent, but it's just that he never lets his mind wander. Clouds were but condensed molecules of water, events in life but isolated cause-and-effect incidents, memories but hazy footprints in the sand near the water's edge. When he was alone working at his hobbies, his mind was focused, clear.
Take friend B. She's equally capable of mind, but she sees life differently, thinks about life differently. She dissects characters in movies, questions their motivations, explores the various interpretations of the language used. Long after relationships end, from the ashes of the memories she still pieces together new lessons, an unrelenting archaeologist of the past.
I think like friend B does. I, er, hope that I've been mature and rational and all that too (the last Report Card which said I was mature of thought came in Primary 3. Nothing since then. Sigh), but while I do have a leash on my mind, it's really a stretchable 100m long leash.
My mum detests the way I think about things. She labels my thoughts on life 'peurile worries', and reminds me constantly that the present has so much to offer, so why think about the past and the future? To her mind, there's so little of the world we can control, so you might as well just be happy.
Which parent wouldn't want their children happy? For that matter, who would ever wish their friends to be locked in an endless cycle of truth-searching too, when we all know that some answers cannot be found?
Maybe that's why Meaning, means so much. It's one of those things you discover on your own, contrary to general advice, earned at great cost.
Now, most of the stuff on Heroes (or TV, for that matter) comes perilously close to being cheesy. Themes like believing in yourself, or self-sacrifice for the greater good. It gets painful to watch at times, but then I remind myself, hey there's Claire Bennet, and things get better.
But last night one particular line struck me, and the irony was that it came from a baddie. And the line goes, "I think, there comes a time when a man has to ask himself, whether he wants a Life of Happiness, or a Life of Meaning?"
He went on to explain, that for a LOH a man would live entirely in the present, focusing on the joys in front of him, never thinking about the past or the future. But for a LOM, a man would be "condemned to wallow in the past, and obsess about the future", for it was in such introspection that he would understand his place in life.
And I give up on Nathan Perelli, who could only stare blankly back at the baddie. Heck, two questions were already racing through my mind: Can there ever be a middleground, for how can one say that there is no Meaning within Happiness, or Happiness when Meaning dawns? And, are people naturally predisposed to either path?
While it's very possible for all of us to dabble in both paths at different stages in our lives, I still think people are naturally built to follow one path. It's really got to do with the way you think.
Take friend A. He's always been mature, rational, intelligent, but it's just that he never lets his mind wander. Clouds were but condensed molecules of water, events in life but isolated cause-and-effect incidents, memories but hazy footprints in the sand near the water's edge. When he was alone working at his hobbies, his mind was focused, clear.
Take friend B. She's equally capable of mind, but she sees life differently, thinks about life differently. She dissects characters in movies, questions their motivations, explores the various interpretations of the language used. Long after relationships end, from the ashes of the memories she still pieces together new lessons, an unrelenting archaeologist of the past.
I think like friend B does. I, er, hope that I've been mature and rational and all that too (the last Report Card which said I was mature of thought came in Primary 3. Nothing since then. Sigh), but while I do have a leash on my mind, it's really a stretchable 100m long leash.
My mum detests the way I think about things. She labels my thoughts on life 'peurile worries', and reminds me constantly that the present has so much to offer, so why think about the past and the future? To her mind, there's so little of the world we can control, so you might as well just be happy.
Which parent wouldn't want their children happy? For that matter, who would ever wish their friends to be locked in an endless cycle of truth-searching too, when we all know that some answers cannot be found?
Maybe that's why Meaning, means so much. It's one of those things you discover on your own, contrary to general advice, earned at great cost.
Friday, May 04, 2007
A Difference
Sometimes, all of us lose a little bit of our way.
Sometimes, you sit alone, and it is quiet. You hear the birds outside, the wind teasing the leaves on the trees, the crackling of engines labouring to serve their human masters. But it is still quiet.
And you realize, that you could do nothing at all today, not utter a single word nor lift a single finger, and the world would spin on. It is as if the world does not really need you. It's a rude wake-up call.
But many times, many times we are fortunate enough to find our paths again.
And you realize, that you could do something today, just a few kind words, or the simple act of reaching out to a friend. Whatever you do, no matter how small, would mark one more day of you making a difference to this world.
With pain and suffering as the easiest presents to give in this world. even the smallest token of kinship is significant for the people around you.
Sometimes, you sit alone, and it is quiet. You hear the birds outside, the wind teasing the leaves on the trees, the crackling of engines labouring to serve their human masters. But it is still quiet.
And you realize, that you could do nothing at all today, not utter a single word nor lift a single finger, and the world would spin on. It is as if the world does not really need you. It's a rude wake-up call.
But many times, many times we are fortunate enough to find our paths again.
And you realize, that you could do something today, just a few kind words, or the simple act of reaching out to a friend. Whatever you do, no matter how small, would mark one more day of you making a difference to this world.
With pain and suffering as the easiest presents to give in this world. even the smallest token of kinship is significant for the people around you.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
... And Let The Reason Be Love
Part Two
Now, with all that background information out of the way, the next question is, how do we utilize it?
And here’s the bit of reasoning and extrapolation that I’m proud of. Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, the secret method of utilizing this information, lies in… DOTA.
Yes you heard me right. DOTA.
DOTA, Defense of the Ancients, the Warcraft game that’s the bane of all you poor girlfriends out there. *patpat*
Look, just think about it. You call your boyboy when he’s playing DOTA, and he’s a million miles away from you. There’s nothing you can do to reach out to him, to connect to him. You could walk right up and flash your boobs at him, and he’ll just wave you aside and shout, “Argh I need the money to buy Eul’s Scepter! Don’t disturb me!”
And that’s pretty hard for you to accept, yes? You think of that special moment he confessed his feelings for you, when he said he needed nothing else in this world except you. Your own love for him may give him a certain leeway in playing DOTA, but it often reaches a point when he almost seems like a different person to you.
ITS. THE. CHEMICALS.
DOTA INHIBITS THE CHEMICALS.
When he’s playing DOTA, you’re a girlfriend to him. You have certain strengths, certain weaknesses. You bring enumerated joys to his life, you are important to him in specific ways. You are human, only human.
When he’s NOT playing DOTA, you’re a goddess to him. You’re the sun, the moon, the stars. You’re on such a high pedestal he’s confident of fashioning huge monuments of love from your, er, waste. You know the feeling.
How do you utilize this? Simple. Assuming he’s wholehearted about this reflection process, you give him a list of questions to answer HALFWAY through a DOTA game. Stress that he’s not answering the questions to please you, but to give himself a chance to think about the whole thing properly.
The questions can include:
1. Why me?
2. What do we bring to each other’s lives?
3. What are the obstacles we face?
4. Are the obstacles worth surmounting? Do the efforts outweigh the benefits?
5. Is staying with me now worth it, or should we both look elsewhere first?
For you, the girlfriends of all the DOTA boys out there… I can’t think of any equivalent method by which you can really distance yourself from the relationship, for those few minutes of lucidity. Perhaps, perhaps you could try those quiet nights when he’s busy with DOTA, or you could also go to a soulful, restful place like a church to think about things?
Before I end, this post honestly won’t reach out to many of you. There are just so many different approaches taken towards relationships – some of us want relationships for the long term, some of us want them for the immediate benefits they bring.
Some of us really don’t mind taking the wait-and-see approach, and see no problem with just living the present to the fullest. Why be so fatalistic, Hanting? Why worry so much about making the wrong choices sometimes, why be so fearful of getting hurt? We’re all young, there’s so much to explore!
Maybe it’s just because I feel that blind, indiscriminate love tends to dilute the meaning in every relationship I have had. If I love you, it’s not because of the chemicals in my brain or the headiness of the moment, it’s because… you’ve earned it, by being the person you are.
And if you happen to be similar to me, the sort who prefers to parcel out love in controlled limited-edition quantities, the sort who wants to give his all to a relationship grounded in sturdy, rational foundations, then it would be good if you could just take a short 5 minutes to think about all this yourself.
Wouldn’t you rather have someone learn to love you over a period of time, than to have them love you completely, irrationally right from the start?
Now, with all that background information out of the way, the next question is, how do we utilize it?
And here’s the bit of reasoning and extrapolation that I’m proud of. Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, the secret method of utilizing this information, lies in… DOTA.
Yes you heard me right. DOTA.
DOTA, Defense of the Ancients, the Warcraft game that’s the bane of all you poor girlfriends out there. *patpat*
Look, just think about it. You call your boyboy when he’s playing DOTA, and he’s a million miles away from you. There’s nothing you can do to reach out to him, to connect to him. You could walk right up and flash your boobs at him, and he’ll just wave you aside and shout, “Argh I need the money to buy Eul’s Scepter! Don’t disturb me!”
And that’s pretty hard for you to accept, yes? You think of that special moment he confessed his feelings for you, when he said he needed nothing else in this world except you. Your own love for him may give him a certain leeway in playing DOTA, but it often reaches a point when he almost seems like a different person to you.
ITS. THE. CHEMICALS.
DOTA INHIBITS THE CHEMICALS.
When he’s playing DOTA, you’re a girlfriend to him. You have certain strengths, certain weaknesses. You bring enumerated joys to his life, you are important to him in specific ways. You are human, only human.
When he’s NOT playing DOTA, you’re a goddess to him. You’re the sun, the moon, the stars. You’re on such a high pedestal he’s confident of fashioning huge monuments of love from your, er, waste. You know the feeling.
How do you utilize this? Simple. Assuming he’s wholehearted about this reflection process, you give him a list of questions to answer HALFWAY through a DOTA game. Stress that he’s not answering the questions to please you, but to give himself a chance to think about the whole thing properly.
The questions can include:
1. Why me?
2. What do we bring to each other’s lives?
3. What are the obstacles we face?
4. Are the obstacles worth surmounting? Do the efforts outweigh the benefits?
5. Is staying with me now worth it, or should we both look elsewhere first?
For you, the girlfriends of all the DOTA boys out there… I can’t think of any equivalent method by which you can really distance yourself from the relationship, for those few minutes of lucidity. Perhaps, perhaps you could try those quiet nights when he’s busy with DOTA, or you could also go to a soulful, restful place like a church to think about things?
Before I end, this post honestly won’t reach out to many of you. There are just so many different approaches taken towards relationships – some of us want relationships for the long term, some of us want them for the immediate benefits they bring.
Some of us really don’t mind taking the wait-and-see approach, and see no problem with just living the present to the fullest. Why be so fatalistic, Hanting? Why worry so much about making the wrong choices sometimes, why be so fearful of getting hurt? We’re all young, there’s so much to explore!
Maybe it’s just because I feel that blind, indiscriminate love tends to dilute the meaning in every relationship I have had. If I love you, it’s not because of the chemicals in my brain or the headiness of the moment, it’s because… you’ve earned it, by being the person you are.
And if you happen to be similar to me, the sort who prefers to parcel out love in controlled limited-edition quantities, the sort who wants to give his all to a relationship grounded in sturdy, rational foundations, then it would be good if you could just take a short 5 minutes to think about all this yourself.
Wouldn’t you rather have someone learn to love you over a period of time, than to have them love you completely, irrationally right from the start?
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Love Me For A Reason...
Part One
A little background is necessary. What is love?
Love, without resort to dictionary reference, is basically the desire to do things for another. You want to care for that person, make that person happy, watch out for him / her. This often comes at significant personal cost, and is irrational to boot.
But then, the more important question remains. HOW does love arise?
This is the very tricky part. You often love someone for a variety of reasons, and try as you will, you just can’t narrow it down to a few key qualities. You say you love someone for their capacity to care, or their sociability, or their reliability.
A little background is necessary. What is love?
Love, without resort to dictionary reference, is basically the desire to do things for another. You want to care for that person, make that person happy, watch out for him / her. This often comes at significant personal cost, and is irrational to boot.
But then, the more important question remains. HOW does love arise?
This is the very tricky part. You often love someone for a variety of reasons, and try as you will, you just can’t narrow it down to a few key qualities. You say you love someone for their capacity to care, or their sociability, or their reliability.
But wouldn’t other people have equal or greater quantities of that quality? In those mixes too? Why do you recognize those qualities in your friends, yet never feel any inclination to pursue a relationship with them?
When pressed, people end up admitting that they can’t quite explain exactly why they want someone, at least at first. They put it down to a whimsical caprice of the human heart, or “chemistry”, if you will.
And that’s when the revelation struck! We humans keep searching for that elusive ingredient, that special thing, and the answer, the answer simply is… chemicals.
Chemicals! Secreted by your brain! Hormones! I have no wish to be cynical and dismissive of the great phenomenon that is Love, but I don’t doubt our body processes have something to do with it too!
Many of us may have read about it before, but I had no idea scientists had already shed light on so many intricacies of the chemical processes. You can read the quite thorough scientific explanations for love, right here. It’s really worth the click.
And the simple summary is this: There are two phases of Love, (1) the Attraction / Lust Phase, and (2) the Attachment Phase. The first Phase is powered by chemicals, the second by true mutual understanding and acknowledgement of qualities.
If the significance of this has not hit you yet, it is this. These sneaky chemicals do the following: they make you obsess about someone, they prevent you from assessing the other person’s qualities rationally, and they can also turn you into a love junkie, someone addicted to relationships for that natural high at the start.
In other words, these chemicals emulate the feelings of True Love.
The evolutionary explanation for these chemical processes is simple. This Chemical Love is the springboard which propels people together, which gives them the confidence to overlook their most immediate differences. Once together, they then have that opportunity to work things out. After all, very few people are matches made in heaven, and great amounts of give-and-take are often required.
This, is the Attraction / Lust Phase of Love.
Then, as your bodies build up resistance to the chemicals, the early passions fade away. By now, you would have already seen all that your partner is good for, and your feelings are truly grounded in rational reasons. There won’t be fireworks, but you’ll get the contented, stable, fulfilling Love older couples experience.
This, is the Attachment Phase of Love.
So why is this information important? It’s because I’ve witnessed too many friends, both male and female, rush into a relationship thinking they may just have found their one perfect mate in life. And it’s only later that they look back and wonder, what the hell were they thinking?
If you had an opportunity to learn how your own brain worked, which would add an extra dimension to the way you approach Love, wouldn’t you take it? My suggestion is, don’t scoff at all this too quickly.
Bookmark the links to read later. This isn’t silly information on how heavy Britney is today, or how many times Snoop Dogg got arrested this month. This WILL affect you in an intricate way someday.
(Part Two will go live in a short while! Otherwise the whole thing would have been so long as to put people off, and for some reason I feel like I reallllllly want to share this with you!)
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Provision Shops
AMK Hub opened recently, and it houses one really mega NTUC Hypermart. And since then I've been telling my mum, please shop there, it offers so much more than the dingy little Shop N' Save (SNS) around the corner does. But she refuses, then smiles, then continues on her routine pilgrimages, a loyal SNS devotee to the end.
Back then I just couldn't understand her. I had been to both places, and the contrast is truly startling, so much so that I found it hard pressed to see just how SNS could be the more attractive option.
Look at NTUC. The variety of goods there is astounding. You can get anything you want, from groceries to clothes to Xboxes. The thrill alone of seeing so many things at your fingertips is enough to entice even the most jaded of shoppers.
Compare that with SNS. It’s cosy, I grant you that, but you can’t really get more than the basic groceries you need. Sure, every once in a while you get special sales of clothes or other household items, but that’s about it really.
Before you conclude that I’m a dolt for not recognizing the million other factors involved, allow me to explain. I noticed too that occasionally my mum would pop by NTUC, or other shops for that matter, to get whatever else she could not find from SNS.
That led me to think, which provision shop ever provides you with all you need? Beyond the tangible physical goods on sale, there are the intangible considerations like convenience, or familiarity with the place, or the shopping experience, things like that. No one shop has it all, and that’s why shoppers frequent different places to satisfy all their needs.
Then it hit me – people are like that too. We’re all provision shops in our own right.
I mean, we all have qualities for sale. It just varies from person to person, the exact composition of our inventory on display. Our personalities and circumstances make up the rest of the equation, the intangible aspects like how approachable we are, how trustworthy, how… convenient.
Just like shops, it’s really quite impossible to imagine finding all that you need in a single person. Emotionally, many times, it seems that way, but the reality is that you do need to find other people too, for different things, to satisfy different needs. You can frequent a certain shop and call yourself a die-hard loyal customer, that’s fine, but you’ll amaze me if you did not need to shop at anywhere else for other things.
I’m sure you have noticed as well, that the strongest romantic relationships are those buoyed with multiple kinships with other people. We might find that our significant other fulfills almost all of our needs in life, but hey, the key word is ‘almost’.
It makes you wonder, does it not, what type of shop you want to be. Which slice of the demographic you want to appeal to, how much effort you will expend in keeping yourself well-stocked, how much different or enticing do you want your customer reward system to be…
And those are just the basic questions. What about the business motivations? Are you opening a shop only for the money? Is it profits-driven (think McDonalds / Walmart) or is it interest-driven, where you want to reach out to customers with the same passions (think hobby shops, or specialty food shops). Are you operating a shop merely because it is a means of survival, or because the business itself is your life?
And just as people are shops in their own way, so too are we shoppers, customers. The teenaged Hanting would settle for nothing less than Borders even if he already had a specific book in mind (the hip factor then was undeniable), but now, now if the NUS Coop had it, it would do just fine. Our priorities change in life, and it may take some time before we figure out exactly what we want when we go shopping, but we will eventually.
Just like my mum did, I guess. For all the bells and whistles NTUC has, SNS is good enough. For the time being.
Back then I just couldn't understand her. I had been to both places, and the contrast is truly startling, so much so that I found it hard pressed to see just how SNS could be the more attractive option.
Look at NTUC. The variety of goods there is astounding. You can get anything you want, from groceries to clothes to Xboxes. The thrill alone of seeing so many things at your fingertips is enough to entice even the most jaded of shoppers.
Compare that with SNS. It’s cosy, I grant you that, but you can’t really get more than the basic groceries you need. Sure, every once in a while you get special sales of clothes or other household items, but that’s about it really.
Before you conclude that I’m a dolt for not recognizing the million other factors involved, allow me to explain. I noticed too that occasionally my mum would pop by NTUC, or other shops for that matter, to get whatever else she could not find from SNS.
That led me to think, which provision shop ever provides you with all you need? Beyond the tangible physical goods on sale, there are the intangible considerations like convenience, or familiarity with the place, or the shopping experience, things like that. No one shop has it all, and that’s why shoppers frequent different places to satisfy all their needs.
Then it hit me – people are like that too. We’re all provision shops in our own right.
I mean, we all have qualities for sale. It just varies from person to person, the exact composition of our inventory on display. Our personalities and circumstances make up the rest of the equation, the intangible aspects like how approachable we are, how trustworthy, how… convenient.
Just like shops, it’s really quite impossible to imagine finding all that you need in a single person. Emotionally, many times, it seems that way, but the reality is that you do need to find other people too, for different things, to satisfy different needs. You can frequent a certain shop and call yourself a die-hard loyal customer, that’s fine, but you’ll amaze me if you did not need to shop at anywhere else for other things.
I’m sure you have noticed as well, that the strongest romantic relationships are those buoyed with multiple kinships with other people. We might find that our significant other fulfills almost all of our needs in life, but hey, the key word is ‘almost’.
It makes you wonder, does it not, what type of shop you want to be. Which slice of the demographic you want to appeal to, how much effort you will expend in keeping yourself well-stocked, how much different or enticing do you want your customer reward system to be…
And those are just the basic questions. What about the business motivations? Are you opening a shop only for the money? Is it profits-driven (think McDonalds / Walmart) or is it interest-driven, where you want to reach out to customers with the same passions (think hobby shops, or specialty food shops). Are you operating a shop merely because it is a means of survival, or because the business itself is your life?
And just as people are shops in their own way, so too are we shoppers, customers. The teenaged Hanting would settle for nothing less than Borders even if he already had a specific book in mind (the hip factor then was undeniable), but now, now if the NUS Coop had it, it would do just fine. Our priorities change in life, and it may take some time before we figure out exactly what we want when we go shopping, but we will eventually.
Just like my mum did, I guess. For all the bells and whistles NTUC has, SNS is good enough. For the time being.
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