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.

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.

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. =)

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.

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?

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."

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.

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.

... 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?

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.

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!)

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.

At The Same Point

I recognized him the moment I stepped into the Notebook Service Centre. It wasn't that hard, actually. After all, he had the same hairstyle, same uniform, same demeanour as he did, one full year ago.

Even the flow of our conversation barely differed from back then, and I accurately predicted his responses to every question I posed. It was almost as if... he hadn't moved from that spot at all, in all the 365 days that had since passed.

Now that's really scary, and I'll try to explain why.

Between the Thomson Muggers, we always said six months was the sweet, magic number to watch for. Every six months, we agreed, you could look back at the changes in your life and you would be amazed at how many developments were impossible to predict.

We tested it by looking six months into the future, and then trying to pinpoint the major changes that lay ahead. Our awkward, amateur prophecies almost always met with the same results - there was simply no way we could describe, with any hint of usefulness, how our lives would develop in the near future.

Of course, we had rough checkpoints to guide us. We could say that in six months we would begin our exchange programs, for example, but beyond that there was no way to predict what type of problems we would face, or how enriching the experience would be.

The futility of trying to wrestle the future into obediently revealing itself further sank in every time we TMs met. Upon catching up properly I would notice changes both subtle and stark, like how Alex had acquired a refined air of independence after her exchange, or how Ivan was looking more and more like a walking corpse after all his medical mugging. There was always change, and we merely had to spot it.

That's why the Notebook Man unsettled me. How did he progress in that one year since? Wouldn't meeting all the people who had streamed into his office, have changed the way he responded to them? When did his replies even begin to acquire their own stifling scent of routine / formality?

Could he still be an employee here, 6 months later, doing the exact same job? Or how about 5 years later? Would I one day break the TMs' Law of Personal Change too, and end up stagnating in terms of personal growth?

It would be nice to for one to always be able to look back and recognize all the little achievements and positive changes, wouldn't you say?

Brother

(I must admit, and apologize, for the disappointing quality of my posts these days. Haha, a friend even complained to me that my posts aren't as funny anymore.

Well, I do try! But I think the new direction to my blog is a good one. I will write as much as I can, but in the meantime, I'm more interested in sharing my little thoughts each day with you. :) )

Tonight, I realized just how much closer my brother and I have gotten over the past few years. I think it had to do with us being more open with each other, sharing stories about life, the decisions we made, the choices we faced.

Back then it was a rare moment indeed for us both to sit and talk, but now, like the way tonight played out, it was a very warm familiar feeling to have him walk in and say, "Hey we need to talk."

And tonight was indeed a momentous night. He came in, sat with me, and told me about his breakup that took place mere hours earlier. In a pained yet controlled tone he detailed how he and his ex had come to the decision mutually, and that both parties had parted as very close friends.

What struck me was the clear, rational thought that guided his actions. They were quite precariously enamoured with each other, yet still decided that this was a good time for both to explore life, explore University / Army, explore other people. They recognized too the other hurdles in their way, and had clearly acknowledged each and every one.

I was mightily impressed. He had effectively learnt to deal with his emotions, managed to think more than a few steps ahead, and just saved himself and the girl no small amount of pain later. He may only be 19 years of age this year, but I somehow felt he was mature beyond his years.

So I'm dedicating this post to him, in memory of the night when I felt I no longer needed to guide him quite as closely anymore. You've really done me proud, and very few people can ever do that for me.

Internal Issues

Have you caught Blithe Spirit? It's a comedy drama about a man who accidentally summons the ghost of his first wife, resulting in mayhem as the man, his second wife and the spirit all try to coexist.

And while I was much amused and entertained by the fantastic character portrayals and beautiful language, one underlying theme stood out quite starkly. That of... how it is your perspective / attitude (and not things like wedding vows) that determines how long you can stay together with a partner.

You see, [spoilers ahead!!] when the first wife returned, the husband was ecstatic. They revisited old memories, indulged in long conversations, and rediscovered tender sides to their personalities that had been stashed away.

Yet, within a few weeks, old problems once again reared their ugly mugs. The audience soon saw that their marraige really never was perfect, that it had its own serious flaws, and that there was no way they could have spent eternity together. And eventually, they decided to part again, despite all the good there was to them.

That was a very good illumination of the way people handle staying together, wouldn't you agree?

I'll try to explain. I think it's very very rare for two people to be perfect for each other their entire lives. There are a million other factors, like their stages in life, their needs at that moment, their circumstances. Thus, I always thought it was normal for people to break up and move on, for it is silly to expect life-time commitments all the time.

So, why then is marriage such a big deal? Why is it that at a certain stage, we say ok we will persevere no matter what happens, only upon death do we part?

My point is, I think marriage as a precursor to life-long commitment is an illusion. It is an excuse for people to believe that they have changed for the better, that with the exchange of vows, they will magically keep trying until they die. Marriage does not automatically make you able to commit for life.

Because, if the marriage (after weighing everything, of course, like kids and what not) is not worth it in the end, why should one remain trapped by vows that no longer hold the same meaning?

I’m not encouraging divorce. I’m saying that how one wants to deal with relationships, should come from within, and not from external social obligations like marriage.

I’m saying that at the end of the day, it boils down to what kind of person you are.
If you’re the wanderer sort, who enjoys meaningful relationships but refuse to be tied down for life, no marriage vow will ever chain you. If you’re the other sort, the kind who refuses to leave as long as (in totality) the relationship is worth it, you’ll also hardly need vows to stay together for life.

The couple in Blithe Spirit… they never dealt with surfacing problems, merely sweeping them under. There was no give-and-take. They clearly wanted to pursue their own agendas. It was that which drove them apart eventually.

To end this on a positive note, it is entirely possible for some relationships to last a lifetime. When the external factors are right, and you are ready to commit, you will naturally become the sort of person who is able to last with another to the finish line.

And you wouldn’t even have to have an official marriage to do that.

A Little Note

Today marks the end of my exams for Year 2!

Today also marks the day I regained friends I thought I had lost. That is perhaps the most important thing to happen to me this entire Sem 2.

So thank you for being there today. It is nice that I shall have fond memories of today. =)

Rain From The Past 2: Suicide

The first time I remember crying in front of another guy, was way back in 2002. In fact, he cried too. And so did our third and final companion.

We were in the park, all three of us, sitting under a little pavilion. And he had just told us he wanted to commit suicide, because the pain from his break up was unbearable.

The tears... just flowed, from some hidden well within. I was both crushed and furious, and the mix of emotions set me off.

Crushed, because I could empathize with the pain he felt. He and I share many a similar perspective on relationships, and I would be lying if I said that over the last few months I would have done anything different from what he did. He had tried his best, but simply couldn't make it last, and the pain had wrecked him.

But furious too, because he was important to me. I had looked up to him for so many things, and I still do today. And I hated the way he forgot that there are other things worth living for in this life, that we cannot base our entire existence over one partner in life, that there are other friends who need him too.

And so we cried, the three of us. We just let it go, and through the heaving and the tissues and the mucus we managed to remind him that there was more to life, no matter how dark and foreboding the future seemed.

He got better. He picked up the pieces and slowly stitched back a meaningful life. I’m proud of him, quite quite proud. I'm glad I didn't scoff at his fears or ridicule them, that day.

Easy Way Out

A few years back, I underwent one of the most grueling, challenging camps ever. We called it Council Camp, the rite of initiation into the Students' Council.

The camp was designed to push us to our physical and mental limits, with the underlying philosophy that adversity would bond us all. It was a roaring success. And although I can't really say much else about it here, one lesson from the camp has stuck very hard for me.

And that lesson is, the best lessons are often the toughest lessons.

This exams period, I've had the opportunity to reflect on the years since I left JC. I took a piece of paper, drew big squares to signify every year since secondary school, and basically recounted the things I had learnt in each year.

Not academic things like Pythagoras' Thoerem, or how to detect / uncover a minefield, or how I would structure SMU's Law Degree Program. The life things, the things I had learned about myself, about my relationship with the world, about the people I live with and love.

And I wasn't surprised that the years in which I learnt the most, were also the relatively more painful, angst-ridden years.

It's what most people refer to as the comfort zone. When one is content with life, at peace with the world, inevitably one also becomes a little less striving, less exploratory. I must emphasise here, this is not a bad thing! It is a sublime blessing for one to be at peace with the world, and that feeling is an elusive sparrow that defies even the most dedicated of hunters.

But at 22, an age when I’m supposed to be growing to my full potential, it may not be the best thing for me now.

This current exams period, my usual stress levels were happily quadrupled when I left my comfort zone behind. It happened when I opened my eyes and started thinking, "Where am I in life?"

I reflected upon how I had grown (or not grown) since Law School started 2 years (!) back. I thought about the upcoming exchange year, where I would be quite removed from the friends I draw sustenance from, trying my best to survive in an unfamiliar country.

I freed my insecurities from the cupboard and allowed them to run rampant through the house, as I observed how they had changed during the past year. I also reassessed just how much I impacted the world, what difference it made to the people around me if I continued existing.

Some of you would ask, why think about all this now, just before the exams? Why not wait until after? Well, the answer is two-fold. One, that life often thrusts things upon you, and two, the best lessons are often the toughest lessons.

See, it’s Council Camp working its magic, its long tendrils (yes it was that monstrous) reaching through the years to remind me of the lesson I learnt then. If you have the choice, never, ever pray for the easy way out of things.

The easy way robs you of that opportunity, that chance to learn something. The easy way is less painful, less probing, but it is also less enriching.

Adversity’s such a funny creature, isn’t it.

Choice

You sit facing me, a questioning ghost of a smile on your lips. You don't know why I suddenly asked you to be quiet for a while, to give me time to say what I want.

But you suspect you know, and that explains the slight furrow in your brow, the short breaths you are taking. We both know that the next five minutes will change everything.

In five minutes, words that I speak will be more than just gasps of air squeezed through my vocal chords, tempered by my tongue. They will tell you what I've been keeping secret in my mind. They will invite you to partake of my innermost thoughts.

But here I am, looking at you, thinking furiously. If I simply laughed now and looked away, we would definitely still stay friends, for a long while more. That weighs heavily on my mind, but I'm distracted, distracted by the way your hair is tied back, distracted by the shimmering reflection of myself in your eyes, distracted by... you.

I'm considering where we'll go from here. We would forge ahead, candles burning twice as brightly for our union, blazing a trail of potent memories and content laughter. Our mutual understanding alone would spill vibrant dashes of colour across our days, and even the little things would suddenly seem worth doing.

We would plumb depths of affection previously unknown to either of us. If ever the darkness that is ahead seems overbearing, in the tangle that is our hands clasping we would feel our fingers squeeze reassuringly, a silent commitment to braving this together.

That seems… tempting. I open my mouth, and begin to speak.

But! But, spectres from the past reveal themselves from the shadows, and in a cacophony of shrill warnings they bid me stay my confession. And I suddenly recall the other possibility, the other outcome. We might one day part, and we would disintegrate like a spider’s web yielding to a vengeful duster.

Paralyzed, floundering without the support of the other, we would wail and rage against things we could not control. Our bountiful memories would acquire a tint of murderous acidity, our previous laughter echoing hollowly. In the Eden garden of our understanding, there would sprout weeds of doubt, of deceit, of decay.

That seems… mildly unpleasant. My words die in my throat, a guttural sound that could mean anything.

Yet I look at you, and I know my heart if not my mind is made up. No bigger fool would there be if I gave up now, before we even started. Even if later I should despair in an endless, boiling pool of sorrow, I would not fault the me that is looking into your eyes now.

I want those precious days, weeks, months of happiness with you, very, very badly.

I smile, and then I try to speak again.

SEXY

Within 10 minutes of talking to this new female friend, I could see it written all over her forehead.

"Professional Heart-Breaker", it said.

And as one expert to another, I had to salute her. Her mastery of the art was impressive for a Padawan so young.

Before you get it wrong, she wasn’t trying to charm me. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was trying her best to be warm and friendly, yet indicated very clearly at the same time that she wasn’t interested in anything else. That way, she could be bubbly and spirited and endearing, without causing any complications.

It was in the choice of her words, the tact she employed, her body language… Everything about it screamed ‘control’. This clearly was someone who had played the game extensively, not a social butterfly that flits around unaware of the consequences of its flutterings, but a hawk of sorts, talons sheathed and at the ready.

See, once you know SEXY, then everything’s at your control. SEXY stands for Secrets, Electronic-media, eXchange-your-days, and boundarY-markers. Hee. I know it's stretching it, but still it’s a great abbreviation.

Every once in a while, I find friends in sticky situations of their own doing. Either they liked someone and didn’t know how to get it across, or they were on the receiving end of unwanted affection. The stakes certainly are high, for these things have a tendency of complicating perfectly happy friendships.

When you consider too that you often interact with the better halves of your guy / girl friends, all the more do you want to be sure you’re sending the right messages across.

And since we started this post with the anecdote of that new-found friend, we shall continue and explain SEXY from the perspective of someone who doesn’t want attention.

Secrets

Simply, be careful with the stories you trade. It’s all well and good to revisit old stories with a friend, but you cross the line when you start sharing stories out of the public domain.

For example, you can freely share funny stories about your schoolmates, but start telling stories about recent crushes you’ve had, or detailed accounts of past relationships…

The worst is dredging up secrets that ‘really, no one else knows about’. You see, secrets create confidences, little exclusive pockets to your friendship that the world is not privy to.

Once secrets are traded, the two of you start walking around sharing a little special thing with the other. You two laugh when cryptic references are made to it, and you feel special that someone else confided this to you.

Hence, watch the stories you share. Carefully weigh the urge to reciprocate when someone does share a secret with you, especially if you aren’t interested. Be well aware, this applies even to small groups of friends!

Electronic-media

Let’s not kid ourselves. In this day and age, we’re using electronic communication technologies that our parents never had to contend with at our age. But with this comes new sets of protocol, new rules.

Clearly, for MSN / SMSes, the frequency and speed of your replies say a lot more about you than you think. Even the effort to continue electronic conversation may be misconstrued as interest on your part!

Don’t ever be lulled into thinking the emotional distance afforded by MSN / SMSes allows you to flirt wantonly, or that it doesn’t mean anything if you’re in constant contact with someone online. This is our generation’s equivalent of note-writing, after all.

eXchange-your-days

Every day, our heads fill up with thousands of private observations of the world.

Whether you’re on your way to school, or watching TV, or going for a run, you’re still generating random thoughts. You’re thinking about how that cloud in the sky looked funny, or how you met an old friend in town, or how you wish it weren’t as stormy recently.

This is the stuff of which full-blown relationships are built of. This is exactly the sort of luxury couples are afforded, to share their little perspectives on life with each other without fear of reprisal or judgment.

And it is exactly when you begin sharing the smaller details of your days, that you no longer appear 2D to your friend. You blossom into this fully rendered 3D model in their minds, a real person who is alive every minute of the day, someone with whom they can develop an affection for.

Don’t believe me? Examine your relationship with your closest buddies, friends. You’ll find that no matter how close you are, how long you’ve known each other, how many idiosyncrasies are already revealed, you still don’t share the minutiae of each day with each other.

Seriously, there’s a difference.

boundarY-markers

And here we arrive, at the catch-all category.

Verbal markers are easier to conceptualize. Here, all you need to do is to reinforce certain key ideas by making constant reference to them, subtly of course. Doing it right means that you manage to project a certain image of yourself. For example:

“Oh, I don’t know, it depends whether the bf/gf is free I guess”
“Yea the bf/gf says that movie is good too”
“How many children do I want? I’ve not even earned my first million!”
“Nah, I don’t think much of my ex nowadays, the days are so packed!”

And so on. As simple as this sounds, listen very very carefully to what people are saying. If you know a certain someone is attached, yet never ever makes reference to their partner at all, you know something is not too right already. It’s a very powerful indication, verbal markers.

Physical markers are ironically harder to exert control over. You would think that with language your mind would be in a tangle trying to work out all the nuances, but it is in body language that we reveal the most.

Perhaps the first and most important thing to remember here is, it doesn’t matter what your intentions are in doing something. It’s how the other person is likely to perceive it.

A simple example suffices. Say you appreciate a friend’s company because she is particularly good at something, like appreciating plays or playing basketball. And you always engage in that activity with her because you want to enjoy plays with someone who can understand them, or because you want to learn a thing or two about scoring baskets.

If it continues long enough, it gets really messy, yes? How would she know what you really want her company for?

Conclusion

The above may be trite knowledge to you, but you’ll be surprised at how difficult it is to master SEXY. It’s really about being on your toes all the time, understanding the image you are projecting, overcoming tugs of the heartstrings to do what you believe is best for yourself.

Life really is complicated enough as it is.

Waiting

It's... about 12 hours from my first Paper, and somehow I'm not very stressed out.

For some reason, I find my mind wandering, thinking about today and all the little things I never really noticed.

Things like... the rain. I do like rain pretty much, as the title of this blog subtly hints. But today, after the first drops started coming down, there wasn't the usual plitter-platter I was used to, only this obscene chorus of angry drops upon my roof tiles.

Things like… chips. My parents kindly bought chips of all flavors to tide me through this exam period, but I’ve yet to open a single packet. I came across them today, lying dejectedly in a corner of the kitchen. When my eyes came to rest upon them they danced and cheered and begged me to please partake of them… but I turned away, and they softly sighed and crinkled in disappointment.

Things like… the park. It’s been there all along, but I’ve visited it more often in the past month than I have in the past 11 years I’ve lived here. It’s really a very nice park. It’s cool and shady and it has a swing, on which you can push off and feel weightless for a while.

It’s got to be this exams period. Time flows fast or slow, contrary to your desire at that, well, point in time. The days blend, like a banana-mango-pineapple slurpee, and you mark your progress through them with the stubble on your chin.

But one smiles, and awaits for the end of exams, when one regains a little more control over it all.

* Note: Never really did a rambling post before. It’s cathartic as anything, but also pretty pointless. Haha.

While Stocks Last

I grew up with my two little female cousins. Or, as it would be more accurate to say, they grew up around my brother and I.

Our mothers are sisters, and through sheer coincidence their family moved into a house in the adjacent estate. Since then, our two families have spent a lot of time together, even going so far as to have dinners together most days of the week.

And as they grew older, one girl of 12 and the other 8, they began to interact with my brother and I on different levels. I mean, when they were young, interaction was limited to animal noises and peek-a-boo games. But as they got older, they began asking more difficult questions.

Just last week, the older one proudly shared her newly acquired nugget of trivia with us, that the youngest mother in the world is 10 years old. We adults of course shook our heads, saying that she was far too young to be a mother. Shauna (that's the 12 year old) then said it wasn't the girl's fault, she probably didn't even know she had hit puberty, and maybe was just sleeping in the same room as her father.

Cue the uneasy silence.

And then we changed the topic.

You see, it isn't about the difficulty of talking about the birds and the bees. It's having to explain to a child the reality that some people out there abuse their children. It's having to explain that the world is really a very raw place, that not all parents are nice, not all children get to live as happily as you think.

It's even harder with Sophia, the younger one. She's insatiably curious. She's also awfully direct with her questions.

"Kor-kor Honteng, are there any friends you hate?" "Why did Fido (our dog) die?" "Why did you have to break up?" "If Grandma wasn't Christian, then is she in hell now?" “Why are you so pimpley?”

I like it best when after I reply with my most PR, tactful answer, she would just scrunch up her face in concentration, say, "Wa I don't understand a word you're saying!" and then run off. It's an innocence she shouldn't be too hasty to lose.

Shauna, Sophia, if one day you're reading this, it's not that I want to lie to you. It’s just that even I, all 22 years of experience, can't answer some of the questions you're asking.

Why do bad things happen? Are they for our own good? Why do people go out of their way to hurt each other? How does love die? Do things really get better the older you get? Why can't we seem to understand why things happen?

It’s always painful to learn things that rock the foundations of your world. I remember, back when I was a kid, my parents had a fight so bad that I sat crying in my room, shutting my ears out and just praying really hard that they would be nice to each other again. I never took them for granted, after that.

And it doesn’t get easier, the older you get. The only difference is that you can’t really go back up to your room and wait out the storms. Most of the time you’ve got to face the unpleasant realities head-on, and try your darndest best to deal with them.

Hey, go on, find me an adult with no emotional scars, and I’ll give you a 22 year-old with wisdom.

So, my dear cousins, enjoy it while it lasts. The world’s bright and shiny now, with good people walking the streets and bad ones all locked up in jails somewhere, where rain means rainbows, and loss means your sister snatching away your Barbie.

I hope for your sake it lasts just that little longer.

Short Stories 1 - We Have No Use For Them

I sat behind the counter, fiddling with the stationery. Ms. Leene sat beside me, papers of the day meticulously folded into a neat square in front of her. She barely made a sound as the papers rustled under her thin fingers.

Barely 3 hours into my temp job here, already I felt I couldn't breathe. It... it was the patients. They would come in sullen, morose, crestfallen, holding a grubby little slip in their hands - their appointment cards. I would tick them off the list (subject to Ms. Leene's approval) and then send them in to the doctor's.

And when they left, they all had the same blank, peaceful, idiotic expression. That was the worst part. Patients are supposed to leave better, not... different.

The checklist of questions was printed out and tacked in front of me. Ms. Leene was very particular about this. "Ask every question there, and be sure you get their answers. Only when you're satisfied then do they sign their forms and go on in. Understand?"

I understood, of course. We had to make sure the patients knew what they were in for, what they were asking for. People who didn't fully understand the procedure tended to get lawsuit-happy afterwards. It's no small deal, you know, having your memory erased.

Swish! went the glass doors as they slid open to present the latest patient. Barely 3 hours here, and we just received our 17th… and 18th patients.

She had her head bowed, standing one significant step behind the man. I couldn’t see her face, what with the hastily-set shawl over her head, but I didn’t really need to look closer to know she couldn’t be smiling underneath.

He stood at the doorway, looking down at his slip again, then up at the clinic’s logo. A man of average stature, he looked not a day beyond 25. But his hands were trembling, his eyes were bleary, his stubble poking up defiantly like spilt ash on pristine silk. Oh, this one had it bad.

They walked over to the counter with surprising resolve, and he wordlessly passed me his slip. After checking it against the records, I flicked the switch to turn on the hidden cameras that would record our ensuing exchange, and began the standard spiel Ms. Leene had instructed me in.

“Good day, thank you for choosing our memory clinic. Now this card indicates that both of you are slated for an appointment, but before you go in, just some formalities, if you please. First, are both of you sure that…”

Ms. Leene pushed aside her papers, leaned forward, and turned the cameras off. “It’s ok,” she said, “the doctor is ready to see you. You may enter together, if you wish.”

They might have been emotionally distraught, but they could still recognize authority when they saw it. They nodded, as one, and shuffled into the doctor’s room. From where I sat, I could hear the doctor warmly, cheerfully greet them, in a tone that was strangely antiseptic and human at the same time.

I opened my mouth, trying to frame my question in the most respectful of ways. After administering 16 painfully detailed interviews, listening to Ms. Leene rebuke me over and over for any mistakes I made, hearing her emphasize how important formalities and protecting our asses were, she actually did something like this?

The whirring sounds began to seep out from the doctor’s room. It had already begun. I wondered who was undergoing the treatment first, him or her?

“It’s ok, I know what you’re going to ask.”

“No, mam, with respect, it’s not ok. You just spent the whole morning telling me we had a job to do, that we had to watch out for them too. That we had to be sure they wanted it too. What if they didn’t want the procedure?”

Ms. Leene returned to her papers, hardly seeming to notice as my angry accusations rolled off her.

“Oh come on now. I’ve heard their stories many times, and frankly, I have no idea how they can get their memories wiped clean, leave this clinic as strangers, and yet somehow fall in and then out of love again within months. Some people should just stay away from each other! I’m not going to listen to their tragic story yet again, not on my last day here.

That’s their fourth time here, together, you know.”




*Note*: Yes, this is a rip-off of Eternal Sunshine, but I like to think of it as a tribute instead.

Her World

Do forgive me if my posts aren't as funny or amusing for a while! It's the exams, and faced with a choice between blogging normal posts and not blogging because my posts aren't amusing, I'll rather blog. =)

Anyways, I was paid a high compliment recently by a friend who said I was one of the more moral people he knew. Interestingly, feedback I've received seem to indicate that my moral convictions manifest overwhelmingly in one facet... in the way I treat girls. Or ladies, if you happen to be a bit older.

This was somehow most apparant in the army. There was once when my OC (that's the senior officer in charge of us) and I went off to comfort a fellow officer who had just broken up. The way we comforted him... you can see for yourself.

Friend: (sobbing)

Me: Hey, you know, it's not that bad... you two can't be together now, but think of all the good times you two...

Friend: (sobs harder and louder)

Me: Er! No! I mean, what you two had was very special, and it's not something everyone gets to experience, so cherish the times...

Friend: (starts bawling)

OC: Hanting what the hell are you doing! Get lost get lost! (turns to Friend) Ok, you listen to me. Did you get to squeeze her ****s or not. Answer me.

Friend: (stops crying for a while, dazed look upon face, nods)

OC: (laughing) Then its ok la! You didn't lose anything, you gained a lot leh! For free!

Me: Huh?!? Sir, what the hell is that type of advice?

Friend: (starts smiling) Thanks sir, feel better now.

Yes. It may have been paraphrased, but that was the gist of the conversation. When they then started chuckling and talking about the poor girl's ****s, I was completely stunned. Ohhhkaaay. I had somehow entered the Twilight Zone, where morals and priorities are wildly different.

But that's me. For the female friends I'm closer to, I've always disapproved tactfully if they behaved wantonly, or if they dressed down too much. I've corrected the way girls sat, gently advised them against fooling around, and never once thought impure thoughts of my female friends.

Suffice it to say I’ve always respected females, and have yet to take advantage of any female, emotional or otherwise.

Apparently, and unfortunately too, it’s not the common standard of decency to expect of most men. I’ve heard of guy friends who push the boundaries with their cavalier ways, and of female friends who have come to expect nothing less. And for the record, alcohol is not an excuse for anything!

But here’s the surprising part. I didn’t inherit these values from my parents, for they are conservative Chinese folks who hardly touch upon these topics. I fashioned them after… the agony-aunt columns in Her World.

(No, I do not spend my money on those mags. Even if I were a girl, paying $10 on mags which are 50% advertisements of things you can’t wear anyway, 40% lifestyle crap you can’t afford, and 10% sex advice you can’t utilize… nuh-uh)

You see, my mum had scores of them when I was younger. (Please disregard the 50%-40%-10% thing with regards to my mum… that’s my opinion, so I have no idea what she wants them for.) And as a curious young lad, I found joy in reading the articles, just to see what the big fuss was about.

And yes, it was the agony-aunt columns that fascinated me the most.

I just couldn’t believe the stories laid out there. Typically, they would be about a girl who’s persuaded into an intimate relationship with her boyfriend, “out of love”, “for him to stay loyal”, “to show that she is true to him”. And then she would get preggers, and the boyfriend would leave.

Or, they would be about their boyfriends / husbands cheating on them. Or about their men abusing them physically / emotionally / verbally. You get the picture.

After a while it hit me that quite a lot of men are bastards. And what was scarier, I found that I could suddenly see the common techniques men use to ensnare their women, that it was suddenly within my power to choose to walk the dark path too.

For example, I shall demonstrate two scenarios in which you, the male, can carry out spousal abuse. One scenario is ‘incorrect’, and would lead to her walking out on you. The other is ‘correct’, and would allow you to happily beat her for years.

Scenario 1 >> You beat her during an argument. She is sobbing in a corner. You beat her again, and again, then you shout that it’s not your fault, and you storm out of the house, telling her you don’t care if she hates you.

Scenario 2 >> You beat her, then when she cries, apologize profusely. Cry with her too, and blame yourself. Tell her you need her to survive, that she makes you a better person. Accept her forgiveness, then hug / kiss her / say “I love you”. Then, repeat from beginning.

Look, if you can’t figure out which scenario is ‘better’, just forget it. I’m not giving the answer here. Spousal abuse is, like, just way wrong, ok? I was just illustrating a point.

As I was saying, I realized then that it was up to me entirely, to choose how I wanted to be. One path meant training oneself to be considerate, sensitive, gentle, if only to make that one girl feel truly special. The other meant dehumanizing girls, honing the art of mind games until you could destroy their self-worth and pillage all you wanted.

And I thought, it can’t be that difficult to be nice and sincere now, can it?

Lest you think this is some ego-stuffed post, about me being some god-like SNAG, it isn’t. I've certainly had my fair share of mistakes, and I admit to them.

But it is a post about how I think more guys should treat their ladies, and how when one partner (guy or girl) begins to trust and depend on the other, the person who’s received that trust should never abuse it.

For goodness’ sake, you’re supposed to be providing.

You Can't Outsmart Me!

Here's something different, for a change.

Last night my brother came over to share a couple of lame jokes with me, wanting to show that he could outdo me in this department. Alas, he left my room a very humbled boy.

HL: Hey kor! Ok you see right, Doraemon was walking down the street when he saw Hello Kitty. Doraemon said "hi", but Hello Kitty didn't reply! Why?

HT: Um... cause Hello Kitty has no mouth?

(short silence)

HL: Have you heard this joke before?

HT: No! You just can't accept that I'm good right?

HL: Ok fine. So then Hello Kitty went home, and sewed herself a mouth. The next day, when she passed by Doraemon, this time she took the initiative to say "hi", but now it was Doraemon's turn not to reply! Why?

HT: Um... cause Doraemon has no ears?

(longer silence, exasperated brother)

HL: Ok whatever! Now the last part of the joke. This guy was walking with the most beautiful girl in the world, when he fell down. What did the girl say to him?

HT: What type of stupid joke is this? Of course she said "Hanting are you alright??"

That was when he left the room. I had to follow him and taunt him for the next 10 minutes about how witty I was.

Pity though, I never got the proper punchline for that last joke.

Famous Amos

Today, I received a very interesting present!

Yes, the delivery man rolled up to my doorstep with a Famous Amos delivery! One jar of chocolatey-goodness! As an exam present!

I got this:

Thank you Mr. J and Mrs. J-to-be-eventually. You two were very very thoughtful. =)

Badge

It is very common for people experiencing emotional pain, to ask, why?

And it is very common for other, happier, people to tell the sad ones that it was a test, a test for them to surpass themselves, to learn about themselves. That all things happen for a reason, and that this will help them grow and be better people.

That works for a short while. Then, it fails to pacify any further, like a salve that's been diluted too many times over. Because, these sad people start to ask, what are the lessons I'm supposed to learn? What did I even do wrong, to deserve a test of this kind?

Well, I asked that question today too, and the answer I ended up with, was surprisingly refreshing and effective. And I want to share it with you, so that in the event you need to reach out and help someone too, this answer I found might be useful for you.

A caveat begin I continue! I must describe the pain in question, for we all know there are many different kinds of pain and as many different remedies.

This pain in question, is a pain of loss. It's a pain of helplessness, feeling that you have done all you could but still to no avail. It is a pain of crushed expectations, of having the bottom fall out from your plans for the future. It is a pain of unable to recall the good times, for dwelling upon them ironically brings more suffering. It is a pain from affection that has yet to retire, that still urges you in your sleep to love.

What is it not? It is not a pain of regret, a feeling that you could have done something more. It is not a pain of shame or guilt, where you know you did something wrong and you wish you hadn't taken that fateful step that day. It is not a shallow pain, where you merely miss the superficial benefits and you wish you weren't so inconvenienced.

And my answer to someone saddled with that pain, is this.

"Your pain, is a badge that you are wearing. It is a badge that signifies all the things you have done right. You have earned this pain, so be proud to wear it.

Pained because there was nothing else you could do? That's good. You did everything in your power. You never gave up for lack of courage, and you kept at it until you knew you could do no more.

Pained because of crushed expectations? That's good too. You planned for a future. You earned the right to feel stable and secure, and with that privilege you planned the days ahead. Not very many people ever feel safe enough to look beyond the next week.

Pained because you dare not reminisce? You had good times! You managed to make different corners and pockets of the world special with the good times you had there. You took routine, everyday events and infused them all with a myriad of gems and pearls, making them all worth remembering for a long time to come.

Pained because your love is like a cockroach that refuses to die? If your love dissipated like a nervous whisper upon the winds, if it were so unsubstantial and feeble it refused to stand up and be counted, was it any good to you in the first place?

You do not have regrets because you never once cut corners, sold yourself short. You did all that you could do. You do not feel shame, because you never cheated, you never did something for which you have to apologize for.

You earned all that. If this happened and you felt no pain... then nothing meant anything to you. But you do feel pain. So wear it proud upon your chest. Embrace it, and with every pang you feel, remember that you deserve every bit of it."

I hope it works for you, if you should need it, because it worked for me.

Movie Spoiler 1 - Adam's Apples

A few months back, I caught this movie called Adam's Apples. (Yes, you can click it to read about it.) And I've been mulling over the movie, for the issues it raises are quite interesting.

The movie's a dark comedy, extremly tragic yet perversely funny at the same time. We see a convict called Adam get a chance to do community work at a church, and there he meets a pastor named Ivan.

The thing is, Ivan has a very, very tragic life. We soon learn that as a child he was abused by his father, his mother ran off with another man, his first son was born a quadriplegic, and his wife killed herself in front of him after she could no longer endure caring for their son. And, that he has advanced brain cancer himself.

Yet, despite all these setbacks, Ivan seems fully unaware of his situation! He tells Adam that his wife is merely on holiday, that his son is a sportsman, that his parents are off well in the countryside together. Moreover, the full-blown cancer that the doctors diagnosed doens't even seem to be taking its toll on Ivan at all.

Oh yes, Ivan was waayy deep in denial. His core philosophy, the one thing that carried him through the days and gave him strength, happened to be his faith in God. Whenever our hero Adam points out the obvious, such as telling Ivan that his son was really a quadriplegic, Ivan merely shrugs, saying that God's plan is not to be so easily revealed. "Every day is a day with God's blessings," Ivan reminds Adam.

And so Adam, in a fit of malicious mean-spiritedness, forces Ivan to face reality. Adam not only brings together all the external indicators of Ivan's tragedy (clippings of his wife's suicide, his cancer diagonosis, etc), but also scoffs at Ivan's beliefs, mockingly telling him that the truth was that God had left him, and that God is persecuting him.

Bereft of his faith, Ivan collapses. His cancer wreaks its havoc, and Ivan is fully incapacitated.

But now it is Adam's turn to witness a miracle. Gangsters attempting to recruit Adam back into their fold run across Ivan, and in a scuffle they shoot Ivan point blank in the face. Adam rushes Ivan to the hospital, and learns that the bullet not only failed to kill Ivan, but also blew away all his cancer cells. For all intents and purposes, Ivan survived, and was recovering fast.

Thus does the movie end, with Adam choosing to believe too then that there was something greater than himself, which he could not fully comprehend.

For me, the movie both celebrated faith, and served dire warnings about it. On one hand faith is a life-preserver, helping us achieve our potential in a world that we can't understand with logic alone. Yet, the movie was a cautionary tale too, for faith if ever wrongly channelled, would just lead to a whole life of lies.

I've recently experienced the limitations of logic myself. For years it has served me well, giving me a foundation on which to chart my life. Strange as it may seem, logic can't explain all sometimes, and I'm not even talking about the big mysteries of life. I'm talking about the little things in life, the little occurrences, the little relationships between us humans.

Like Ivan experienced in the movie, it's very strengthening to know that the trials and tribulations one goes through aren't simple caprices of fate, but more of events that help us improve and become 'perfecter', in the words of one of my friends.

I want to see too how far I can go.