They say that the thing you see when you look into the mirror is your insecurity. Your fat thighs, maybe, or your acne, or your eyes that will never be pretty no matter how hard you try, or your race or sexuality. On a typical day I look in the mirror and see a City Harvest Christian. I have good reason to feel socially insecure as a Christian, and especially as a CHC-goer. Everyone judges you for being a CHC-goer, including other Christians; or at least that's how I felt for the longest time. "Oh my god, the china wine church" "Oh your pastor pocketed the money?" "Everyone's queueing up to give money to your pastor" "You all got the Greece trip? Your church bribed the school ah?" "All these biblically-shallow, feel-good worshippers" "Prosperity gospel" etc. I thought it was miraculous that people accepted me as the CF leader. This must be somewhat similar to how a homosexual pastor might feel.
I don't see the need to justify myself, or my church, or anyone. The church's been publicly shamed for longer than I've been in it. I do take the stand that my church is as sound in its main theological beliefs as any other church, and there is nothing fundamentally wrong with its mode of worship, etc. But my membership does not mean that I fully adopt the complete City Harvest identity as my own identity, just as how my passionate and steady commitment to Yale-NUS doesn't mean I fully take its identity as my own. City Harvest is a place where I feel free to worship and learn to develop my relationship with God; beyond than the immediate institution, I am first a Christian.
Besides, I also don't think it should be necessary for me to completely reject the ways and beliefs of my church - "I go there, but I don't agree with any of it" - in order to feel socially accepted. This church guided me in my journey with Jesus; without it, I wouldn't have known God like I now do. Yes, I don't drink it all in; not all of what I believe is from the church; I disagree with the ways in which they present certain things, and - well - unlike many Christians (enough to get me extremely frustrated and worried), I am very much for evolution, as much as the average non-Christian. But I owe a great deal to this place.
Also I have come to be very frustrated at the self-righteousness of many demeaningly cynical non- or anti-Christians. Oh, look at those opiate-addicted religious people, naive, unquestioning, just buying these lies. Look at this City Harvest, the thousands of stupid sheep just buying it all in. Maybe it is my insecurity, but I often feel like people try hard to continue being nice to me upon finding out which church I belong to. Oh, this sad girl. I hope she doesn't give money to the church.
I'm not giving anything, any devotion or defence or money, to a human being. And this is why I will neither defend nor demean my pastor and his wife, but I ask that, like I do, like Jesus does, you do not judge. I ask that you do not mock him, because are you more righteous than a God who will never deride a sinner? More righteous than a God who will cry for our sins, cry for the heartbreak that we inflict upon ourselves? I am a human being, and I too try not to judge. I think the basic thing we can do is practice respect and acceptance, instead of laughing at a person. Today I was invited to watch a series of videos of supposedly deranged people doing embarrassing things in public, like stripping naked in a station or wailing uncontrollably at losing a flight or picking a fight in a bus. Was I supposed to laugh? What if the person in the video, or a deranged person I encountered in the streets one day, was someone I knew, someone who had a pleasant demeanour in secondary school but who possibly got very stressed out when she started working at a law firm, and lost it all one day? Would I find it funny then?
I find it uncomfortable to be around people who practice derision, or a self-righteous sort of compassion, or arrogance that assumes a higher ground, that assumes we can save ourselves because our hearts are so good, or that those who believe in anything beyond are too naive, not enlightened like you are. Right now, halfway around the world from Singapore, I miss the gentle, all-loving respect and humility that I could easily find in those around me, in Christians and non-Christians alike. Humility is something rare and precious, something we all need to be whacked in the head to remember from time to time.
I don't think this post makes much sense. I'm just typing.
Showing posts with label life lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life lessons. Show all posts
Nov 2, 2014
I am an aunt
Today I went for my cousin's baby's first-month celebration.
I wore an electric blue dress. This was the second time I wore this dress - the first time I wore it was in this same house, the day she got married. My brother and I happened to be somewhat colour-coordinated again. We stood at the porch, bracing ourselves for all the aunts we were supposed to greet, and we mused about how in ten years' time, this was going to be us. In ten years' time I'd be 31 and he'd be 27, and the baby showers and weddings would be for our own friends (and hopefully ourselves). My aunt despaired that none of my cousins were going to be doctors. My family sat at a table and talked about that morality course I did and the expectations of working life. My brother and I traded stories of the week in hushed tones, away from the crowd. On the way back we shared music, Ed Sheeran and Charlie Lim.
She still looks and talks like a university student, which makes me nervous. I'm supposed to pass through this ritual, too, not too long from now. Her friends were there, other young people with babies, and I thought: will that also be us in ten years' time? My Council friends and me, my college classmates and me, gathered round in a house with our kids running into table corners and demanding to see the koi in the pond? Who the heck are we going to marry?! Roi, Welly, Abi, Emme - where will we be, and whose rings will be around our fingers? Will Alex and Geri still be together, and together for life? (Please get married, y'all are so sweet)
And will we remember these days, too, the 7ams on the bleachers sleeping on our schoolbags with our skirts too long and our hair too neat; the days we watched the football boys practice and mused about how love was a war and "we are veterans"; the days my friends skipped lunch break to hold me as I cried. The late nights in bedrooms and common lounges talking about Aristotle and morality and life; the 4ams we discussed theology and cried and prayed; the days we tried to use words bigger than ourselves, and the days we jumped on bouncing castles. The days we travelled, a bunch of schoolmates sharing our love stories in a Greek bar and lying on a Greek pavement to look at the Greek night sky. I think about New York and the first memory that comes to mind is of the night I missed my flight - me screaming falling flying towards carnival lights and Sabri laughing the most carefree laugh.
Will we look back and think of ourselves as kids? Kids trying to be all grown-up with grown-up philosophy, kids talking about Marx's fetishism of the commodity and the tyranny of bureaucracy like we understand this society, arguing for/against feminism in lengthy scribbles in the lift, kids puking in the corridor, kids falling in and out of infatuation. I have the habit of thinking of my past selves as far more immature, perhaps because I change and learn so much each year. But I also always think I'm stronger than I really am, more mature and disciplined, and I fall to the bottom and remember we are only human, we are still in many ways children.
Will we ever feel 'ready'? Will we feel ready to bring up another life, to wipe a child's ass and chide him for biting his fingernails, to explain why the sky is blue and why we should share our toys and why we cannot eat too much chocolate. Will we ever feel ready? I guess many people are never ready enough. Parents are also kids. Parents are also navigating a new world. We are always incomplete, inadequate. We will sit around cut fruits and cookies and our own children will befriend one another and we will fight with the person we're supposed to live with for a lifetime. We will throw things and words around. We will share our parenting woes and we won't know what to do. And there will come the day our children realise we are also only human, just like them. They will become disenchanted, and we will feel like we've failed.
When I'm married and my kids are teenagers will I look back at this and laugh at myself? I enjoy reading my primary school diary entries, that's for sure, and I'm quite ashamed at the weird kid I used to be but I still am one; I still say stupid things and dream stupid things. Also, I want to be a taxi driver, but I have to be at least 25. I want to travel. I hope I travel. I wonder if one day I'll be able to think of myself without deriding the immaturity of all my previous years, accept that we learn by trial and error, through elimination and scraped knees.
I wore an electric blue dress. This was the second time I wore this dress - the first time I wore it was in this same house, the day she got married. My brother and I happened to be somewhat colour-coordinated again. We stood at the porch, bracing ourselves for all the aunts we were supposed to greet, and we mused about how in ten years' time, this was going to be us. In ten years' time I'd be 31 and he'd be 27, and the baby showers and weddings would be for our own friends (and hopefully ourselves). My aunt despaired that none of my cousins were going to be doctors. My family sat at a table and talked about that morality course I did and the expectations of working life. My brother and I traded stories of the week in hushed tones, away from the crowd. On the way back we shared music, Ed Sheeran and Charlie Lim.
She still looks and talks like a university student, which makes me nervous. I'm supposed to pass through this ritual, too, not too long from now. Her friends were there, other young people with babies, and I thought: will that also be us in ten years' time? My Council friends and me, my college classmates and me, gathered round in a house with our kids running into table corners and demanding to see the koi in the pond? Who the heck are we going to marry?! Roi, Welly, Abi, Emme - where will we be, and whose rings will be around our fingers? Will Alex and Geri still be together, and together for life? (Please get married, y'all are so sweet)
And will we remember these days, too, the 7ams on the bleachers sleeping on our schoolbags with our skirts too long and our hair too neat; the days we watched the football boys practice and mused about how love was a war and "we are veterans"; the days my friends skipped lunch break to hold me as I cried. The late nights in bedrooms and common lounges talking about Aristotle and morality and life; the 4ams we discussed theology and cried and prayed; the days we tried to use words bigger than ourselves, and the days we jumped on bouncing castles. The days we travelled, a bunch of schoolmates sharing our love stories in a Greek bar and lying on a Greek pavement to look at the Greek night sky. I think about New York and the first memory that comes to mind is of the night I missed my flight - me screaming falling flying towards carnival lights and Sabri laughing the most carefree laugh.
Will we look back and think of ourselves as kids? Kids trying to be all grown-up with grown-up philosophy, kids talking about Marx's fetishism of the commodity and the tyranny of bureaucracy like we understand this society, arguing for/against feminism in lengthy scribbles in the lift, kids puking in the corridor, kids falling in and out of infatuation. I have the habit of thinking of my past selves as far more immature, perhaps because I change and learn so much each year. But I also always think I'm stronger than I really am, more mature and disciplined, and I fall to the bottom and remember we are only human, we are still in many ways children.
Will we ever feel 'ready'? Will we feel ready to bring up another life, to wipe a child's ass and chide him for biting his fingernails, to explain why the sky is blue and why we should share our toys and why we cannot eat too much chocolate. Will we ever feel ready? I guess many people are never ready enough. Parents are also kids. Parents are also navigating a new world. We are always incomplete, inadequate. We will sit around cut fruits and cookies and our own children will befriend one another and we will fight with the person we're supposed to live with for a lifetime. We will throw things and words around. We will share our parenting woes and we won't know what to do. And there will come the day our children realise we are also only human, just like them. They will become disenchanted, and we will feel like we've failed.
When I'm married and my kids are teenagers will I look back at this and laugh at myself? I enjoy reading my primary school diary entries, that's for sure, and I'm quite ashamed at the weird kid I used to be but I still am one; I still say stupid things and dream stupid things. Also, I want to be a taxi driver, but I have to be at least 25. I want to travel. I hope I travel. I wonder if one day I'll be able to think of myself without deriding the immaturity of all my previous years, accept that we learn by trial and error, through elimination and scraped knees.
Sep 27, 2014
Other people will not heal you
"All I need is a girl" you say. You have that deep pit in your soul, people call it chronic depression but you just call it chronic loneliness; we were made to be with another, and that's all you need to solve yourself.
Listen to me: she will not heal you. If you are not enough for yourself, no one will be. For the longest time I latched on to people, clung to them because I thought they were what I needed, but then I needed more and more until I squeezed them dry while I was still left thirsting.
I never understood it when people said they needed alone time. Alone time is lonely. Restless. Purposeless. But over the week I became addicted to the tranquility that comes with being with myself. Invited my thoughts to a little tea party. And slowly I will learn to listen to them again, not shut them out with other people's voices and the noise of work. Slowly I will learn to be enough for myself. Only then can I let other people in.
Listen to me: she will not heal you. If you are not enough for yourself, no one will be. For the longest time I latched on to people, clung to them because I thought they were what I needed, but then I needed more and more until I squeezed them dry while I was still left thirsting.
I never understood it when people said they needed alone time. Alone time is lonely. Restless. Purposeless. But over the week I became addicted to the tranquility that comes with being with myself. Invited my thoughts to a little tea party. And slowly I will learn to listen to them again, not shut them out with other people's voices and the noise of work. Slowly I will learn to be enough for myself. Only then can I let other people in.
Jun 1, 2014
Tolerating people who are intolerant
Billy the liquor store guy and I have a pleasant chat about various things. And I say, Ann Arbor's a lovely place, I love the youth vibe coupled with the brick buildings. And he says well, you know, it's not all as rosy as it seems. People from [can't remember what region he was talking about, whether it was the outskirts or the US or all over the world] come here and they bring with them "bad things, like gays, hash - y'know the hash bash..."
Something in me twitches a little. Putting a group of people who have certain attraction inclinations into the same category as drugs and calling it a "bad thing" "other people" "brought in" is reason enough for a bit of a twitch. I don't like talking about my views on homosexuality because it's far more nuanced than anyone has the patience for (including myself), but I feel that love is love all the same, and that acceptance of people is paramount, of who they are, regardless of what they do and whether you agree with it or not.
And so I encounter a person who is intolerant towards a group of other people, and that goes against my values. And then I wonder how I should respond internally - how I should feel towards him for his intolerance. And I realise, if I feel even a small degree of antagonism towards him as a person, if I do not accept and love him despite his views too, I would be equally intolerant. If I stand by accepting everyone, that includes people who don't accept. Tolerance is all-encompassing; it doesn't exclude people who are intolerant.
Something in me twitches a little. Putting a group of people who have certain attraction inclinations into the same category as drugs and calling it a "bad thing" "other people" "brought in" is reason enough for a bit of a twitch. I don't like talking about my views on homosexuality because it's far more nuanced than anyone has the patience for (including myself), but I feel that love is love all the same, and that acceptance of people is paramount, of who they are, regardless of what they do and whether you agree with it or not.
And so I encounter a person who is intolerant towards a group of other people, and that goes against my values. And then I wonder how I should respond internally - how I should feel towards him for his intolerance. And I realise, if I feel even a small degree of antagonism towards him as a person, if I do not accept and love him despite his views too, I would be equally intolerant. If I stand by accepting everyone, that includes people who don't accept. Tolerance is all-encompassing; it doesn't exclude people who are intolerant.
May 15, 2014
ready
I couldn't bear to take my stuff off the walls until the last minute. I took a billion pictures of every single thing on my wall and it was never enough. I took down a couple of posters and the empty space glared at me. Couldn't do it. Couldn't do it.
Now all that's left on my walls are the glow-in-the-dark stars and lanterns, because I can't reach them. I went to sleep in what felt like a blank foreign liminal space and it made me afraid.
As long as my guitar's still here.
For the longest time I haven't been ready to tear down my room, my favourite place in the world & my refuge. Now that it's almost completely depersonalised I don't feel like staying in it anymore. But I'm ready for a new room. No more old photos on the walls; I bought a book that transcribed Neil Gaiman's Make Good Art speech and I plan to tear out the pages and put them up. Also, no more bed next to the window. It's going to be really different.
I'm going to be really different. For a long time I wasn't ready for juniors. This year passed really quickly and there wasn't time to breathe and reflect. But I'm ready now. I'm ready to close the year and go for a fantastic summer trip to the States and take time to be with myself, and come back a completely different person. Come back refreshed and new. Hang out with new people. Let no one make any assumptions from before.
For the first time in my life, though, I'm ready to be a year older. 21's a big number, and it sounds like independence, like knowing what to do and having certain set worldviews that emerge from your wealth of youth experience. I've never felt ready for any of my birthdays, because I never felt big enough for the number. But now I realise that you don't need to be anything, and you definitely cannot expect yourself to have anything set in stone; all that's important is that you've grown. And I've definitely grown and gained tremendously this academic year. My thought processes have been challenged and shaped right to the core, and I'm a very different person now from when before I started school. My opinions have become more nuanced and I'm far more aware that there is so much I cannot be certain about. And I also realise that what I think I believe is not necessarily what I really believe. Our declared values might just be what we forcefeed ourselves, a defence mechanism because we've gotten hurt, as a result of actually very different fundamental expectations. You say you don't expect anything from anyone, but maybe it's just a mantra you repeat because you've gotten hurt too many times when people didn't do what ought to be. And you realise why you still get hurt despite what you think you believe.
Anyway, I have learnt a lot about myself this year - in fact, it's been more of a deconstruction than a building-up. And I know that my worldviews will continue to change, and I'm excited for that. To constantly empty the furniture in my mind, to renovate and fill again, not necessarily with entirely different designs, but definitely more refined. And that's why I'm ready to be 21. I accept that I have come a long way this year, and that there is no end to reach.
ridding the walls of me
taking all my post-its etc. off the walls and compiling them into a notebook.
evolution of myself in the past academic year
Apr 3, 2014
starting with the man in the mirror
A couple of days ago, I saw myself reflected in the tears of a fifteen-year-old. I told her that sometimes we like to think that our lives will straighten out in a couple of years; give it some time, and we will find better people, we will have a better time. But often these problems are actually within ourselves. And if we don't find a way to resolve the whirlwind inside us, the problems will never end. We will never find that relief.
It's like you're constantly trekking through tough terrain, your bare feet getting blistered and cut, and the only hope you can cling on to is that the ground will be less harsh on you eventually. But maybe it never will, and your feet will always hurt. What you can do is put some shoes on, do something within your power rather than wait for better things to come.
No, I'm not there yet. I'm still working on it. Trying to put my energy not on hoping for better situations, but on changing my attitudes. It's not going as well as I thought, but I'm still trying, fighting hope about things and people, gritting my teeth, pasting reminders all over my wall, hating being weak.
It's like you're constantly trekking through tough terrain, your bare feet getting blistered and cut, and the only hope you can cling on to is that the ground will be less harsh on you eventually. But maybe it never will, and your feet will always hurt. What you can do is put some shoes on, do something within your power rather than wait for better things to come.
No, I'm not there yet. I'm still working on it. Trying to put my energy not on hoping for better situations, but on changing my attitudes. It's not going as well as I thought, but I'm still trying, fighting hope about things and people, gritting my teeth, pasting reminders all over my wall, hating being weak.
Mar 17, 2014
Gratitude Journal
So I didn't hop on to the #100happydays bandwagon, but this year I decided to keep a daily gratitude journal. I've tried it before, but I'm making an effort to be more sincere and detailed with it now.
Okay, this is a bad page to use in a photo 'cos it's crumpled and I got the dates on the journal messed up, but whatever. The rest of the pages' entries are a little more personal and I'd rather not put them up here. It actually started when I was wondering what to do with this NUS planner. But it's turned out really well - I've been taking this seriously and penning down things that genuinely mean a lot to me. Most of the entries are pretty personal, which is why I think this is a better idea than posting #100happydays pictures on Facebook. Some things you're grateful for can't be captured on camera; many of these are reflections, and many are too close to my heart to publish to the world. If it were a photo project, I'd probably be much less sincere with it, and the entries wouldn't be as heartwarming to myself. It's a great way to reflect on the day - today I sat down and took the book off the hook and went "okay, what am I grateful for today?" Nothing particularly awesome happened today, and I'm feeling quite unwell, but there were the little things that matter, that I smile when I think about.
I think today I'm glad to be able to sit here in my lovely room and think about which blessings to count.
Okay, this is a bad page to use in a photo 'cos it's crumpled and I got the dates on the journal messed up, but whatever. The rest of the pages' entries are a little more personal and I'd rather not put them up here. It actually started when I was wondering what to do with this NUS planner. But it's turned out really well - I've been taking this seriously and penning down things that genuinely mean a lot to me. Most of the entries are pretty personal, which is why I think this is a better idea than posting #100happydays pictures on Facebook. Some things you're grateful for can't be captured on camera; many of these are reflections, and many are too close to my heart to publish to the world. If it were a photo project, I'd probably be much less sincere with it, and the entries wouldn't be as heartwarming to myself. It's a great way to reflect on the day - today I sat down and took the book off the hook and went "okay, what am I grateful for today?" Nothing particularly awesome happened today, and I'm feeling quite unwell, but there were the little things that matter, that I smile when I think about.
I think today I'm glad to be able to sit here in my lovely room and think about which blessings to count.
Mar 4, 2014
We accept the love we think we deserve
Useless metal is thrown at your feet. It laughs at you because it's only an illusion - lust that feels like love; iron that looks like silver if you delude yourself enough. But you pick it up and turn it over in your hands. it happened again today. he said he wants it. that must mean something. maybe he only wants it, but, well, maybe he wants me. maybe it's not a bad idea. it's a rare chance, after all.
At first, when you show it to me, worthless iron pretending to be silver, I say "don't accept it; it will only ruin you." I assume you know that you are gold, and the iron will only cheapen you. What I don't realise is that you don't understand what I'm saying, because you think you are iron, too.
I don't think true silver exists, you say. I say of course it does. I list people we know who are in love, and who love with so much purity and wholeness. But you don't believe it will happen to you. True love is for other people, you say; true pure love is so precious and rare, and you are not pretty or attractive enough for it. I slowly begin to realise the real problem. You see yourself the same way I see myself: worthless.
I think I am ugly, and socially awkward, and too boring and annoying for people to want to be with. I think I am talentless and extremely, extremely weak, a pathetic dog that people adopt because they pity me (or because they're too nice to turn me away). But yesterday, I found the courage to reject these thoughts about myself. Baoyun told me that she knew I had the potential to be so much more, but it never shows because I keep desperately clinging on to one small thing and letting it determine all of me, making myself so little. And because she could look at my hopeless state and say I know you can be so much more, I decided to force myself to believe it. And so I told him. I said "I believe I am more, so stop it with the sighing, because it makes me feel like I am useless, and I am not."
Remember Emma Watson's character in Perks? "We accept the love we think we deserve." Is it possible for a beautiful person to think she isn't beautiful, and accept lousy things because that's all she thinks she's worth? My dear, I wish you knew the things I see in you. You have such a precious heart, so pure and loyal, with incredible capacity to love. You are so encouraging, so selfless, so full of beautiful qualities that are so rare these days. When I think about you I am literally reminded of precious jewels; I am not exaggerating. You have so much pressure on all sides telling you to give it up, give up your values they are useless, but you still believe they must be worth something; do you know how precious that is? You think so little of yourself, but when you are happy and confident, it shows, and you become so much more beautiful on the outside, too.
There are people we think of as good-looking and attractive, but upon closer scrutiny, you realise that you only think so because of their personality. They don't have a pretty face, but their cheerful smiles and huge personalities make them pretty. Our confidence and personality really do make up half our exterior image. Look at her. I think she's pretty, but when I think about it closely, if she didn't have that beautiful confident personality, she wouldn't be pretty at all. Look at him. He's downright ugly, but his personality makes him so charming.
Remember the time I kept comparing myself to someone else, and felt inferior in every way? You said "That just doesn't make sense. You can't compare yourself to her. You are completely different people." And I ignored your words, but then a few days later you started doing it, too. You looked at someone and you felt like you were less than her. And I was like, "are you crazy? How can you see yourself as less than her? You are so beautiful, and your heart is dripping with loveliness. How could you even do that?" To me, it was so obvious that you were being ridiculous. And then I realised: you probably thought my comparisons were ridiculous, too.
Oh, by the way. A certain very pretty person told me that, once upon a time, she thought she was ugly. When I heard that I was like "-________- that's not possible lol lame", and tossed that aside. But then, if someone so beautiful could think she was ugly, doesn't that prove how blind we are to ourselves? If you, my dear, think you are worth so little, might it be that there is beauty in me that I am not seeing, too?
And so I am still trying to see myself through your eyes. I do that by reminding myself of how I see you: it's so bloody obvious that you are such a beautiful person, and it doesn't make sense that you don't see any of it. And then I remind myself that that's what you think about me, too. And then I tell myself that I am beautiful just like you are. I don't see it, but to you it's so obvious, just like how your beauty is so obvious to me, and so my beauty must be as true as yours is.
I also know from past experience that if I believe I am ugly, I will become ugly, and if I believe I am beautiful, others will see it, too. All I need to be beautiful is to believe it.
I wish you could see how freaking beautiful you are, dear. But since you can't see it, I want you to remember the way you think about me - how you keep trying to convince me that I am a beautiful person - and tell yourself that that is exactly how I see you, too. The beauty in me that is so obvious to you, is just like your own beauty. I wish you could see it. I wish you could. Because then you would realise that you are worth so much more than what you let yourself believe in. You are precious gold, and scraps of iron are not even worth your attention.
Feb 20, 2014
on love's imbalance
"it happens, in general too; sometimes we need people more than they need us. Sometimes we give just because we want to be able to 'be important' to someone, but then not being adequately appreciated stings. Not that it's bad or dumb to give, but asymmetry is a fact of humanity."
(Pei Yun)
i still maintain my theory of love being largely unreciprocated, and more like a chain of giving - while we all have the capacity to love and give, it is just so rare, so rare for two people to love each other intensely in the same degree. (romantic or otherwise.) and i used to be so frustrated about this. about how i relentlessly gave, and gave, and seemed hardly ever to receive; while he gave and gave to another, and felt likewise. so ironic. so ironic that we don't see the love we have in front of us, while we give ourselves away to another vessel instead. i still do get frustrated over this, although less so now, because i am on my way to feeling less, giving and being less, and being more self-sufficient instead.
but i am trying to see it in a different light. we don't do things for people because we expect it to be returned; hard as it may be, we shouldn't love people while expecting to receive it in the same amount from them. love is freely given, without strings attached. giving is my own choice. when i give, that's my problem, and not your responsibility.
Kevin said this to me way back last May - he does his best for himself, and doesn't expect anything of anyone, because they will probably disappoint you. You do what needs to be done in a project, and don't expect them to put in as much effort as you did. You give someone something that will help them, and don't expect them to make good use of it.
I remember saying that it was a ridiculous way of thinking - he was trying to defy the basic principles of give and take. It might be practical, but it's counter-intuitive, and you can't expect to go on like this and be totally fine with it. There is no sense of mutual trust in this, and trust is a huge part of our lives.
I'm starting to see it in myself now though - to be okay with giving and not receiving, to be okay with pouring myself out to people without expecting the same; love is a choice, and I am happy to love, but it isn't right to impose a responsibility on other people because of your decisions.
(Pei Yun)
i still maintain my theory of love being largely unreciprocated, and more like a chain of giving - while we all have the capacity to love and give, it is just so rare, so rare for two people to love each other intensely in the same degree. (romantic or otherwise.) and i used to be so frustrated about this. about how i relentlessly gave, and gave, and seemed hardly ever to receive; while he gave and gave to another, and felt likewise. so ironic. so ironic that we don't see the love we have in front of us, while we give ourselves away to another vessel instead. i still do get frustrated over this, although less so now, because i am on my way to feeling less, giving and being less, and being more self-sufficient instead.
but i am trying to see it in a different light. we don't do things for people because we expect it to be returned; hard as it may be, we shouldn't love people while expecting to receive it in the same amount from them. love is freely given, without strings attached. giving is my own choice. when i give, that's my problem, and not your responsibility.
Kevin said this to me way back last May - he does his best for himself, and doesn't expect anything of anyone, because they will probably disappoint you. You do what needs to be done in a project, and don't expect them to put in as much effort as you did. You give someone something that will help them, and don't expect them to make good use of it.
I remember saying that it was a ridiculous way of thinking - he was trying to defy the basic principles of give and take. It might be practical, but it's counter-intuitive, and you can't expect to go on like this and be totally fine with it. There is no sense of mutual trust in this, and trust is a huge part of our lives.
I'm starting to see it in myself now though - to be okay with giving and not receiving, to be okay with pouring myself out to people without expecting the same; love is a choice, and I am happy to love, but it isn't right to impose a responsibility on other people because of your decisions.
Jan 28, 2014
What I don't want my future to be
2.50am
My first chance to sleep before 3am in two weeks and I end up lying here for more than half an hour, unable to fall asleep. I let my mind wander, from close friends to others who are beautiful. And my mind drifts to how so many people from the Philippines have such a calm but strong love for God. And then I recall the time a friend said his mum had paid for his maid to pursue her dream of going to graduate school.
And I remember a friend saying her maid was a med school graduate, but decided to work as a maid because it got her a higher pay. And I thought, it’s so sad to do a job just for the money…where is the pride? The pride in knowing you can do so much more for society? Life is so much more than money; it’s about self-fulfilment, feeling like you’re doing something significant for the community.
And I think about my future. I think of offices I’ve spent days in, and I suddenly feel such a fear, and a strong rejection towards the possibility of spending the good years of my life in a big office, where each person is merely a cog in the machine, spending their daily 9-5 doing work on a computer, answering calls, meeting people purely for money-making purposes.
I mean, for people who are comfortable with that, that’s great. And if it's a cause I am passionate for, that'd be good. But that aside, I can't see myself in a quiet, rigid profit-centred corporation, with a sterile atmosphere, neutered creative passions and an endless amount of work on the computer that amounts to dust. Impersonal targets, goals that do not serve the greater good of humanity, goals that I do not personally identify with and share.
I stare at my bedroom wall. Here I am, in college, and I decorated this room, and I love it. I love every picture and my constellation glow-in-the-darks and Teressa's artwork and my guitar and how it's all placed. Here I am, my Philosophy prof saying that my comments in class were probably among the most insightful, original and thought-provoking that any student made in class last semester. (This means a lot to me because I thought I would hate and suck at Philo. Not proud, just very grateful to be made to study it.) Here I am, free to express and create, feeling like I'm getting somewhere, limited only by myself.
I don't ever want my mind to be dulled. I don't want to be forced into a box at the workplace or in society. I want to expand, I want to be full and bursting at the seams with life, I want it to spill out into the world.
My first chance to sleep before 3am in two weeks and I end up lying here for more than half an hour, unable to fall asleep. I let my mind wander, from close friends to others who are beautiful. And my mind drifts to how so many people from the Philippines have such a calm but strong love for God. And then I recall the time a friend said his mum had paid for his maid to pursue her dream of going to graduate school.And I remember a friend saying her maid was a med school graduate, but decided to work as a maid because it got her a higher pay. And I thought, it’s so sad to do a job just for the money…where is the pride? The pride in knowing you can do so much more for society? Life is so much more than money; it’s about self-fulfilment, feeling like you’re doing something significant for the community.
And I think about my future. I think of offices I’ve spent days in, and I suddenly feel such a fear, and a strong rejection towards the possibility of spending the good years of my life in a big office, where each person is merely a cog in the machine, spending their daily 9-5 doing work on a computer, answering calls, meeting people purely for money-making purposes.
I mean, for people who are comfortable with that, that’s great. And if it's a cause I am passionate for, that'd be good. But that aside, I can't see myself in a quiet, rigid profit-centred corporation, with a sterile atmosphere, neutered creative passions and an endless amount of work on the computer that amounts to dust. Impersonal targets, goals that do not serve the greater good of humanity, goals that I do not personally identify with and share.
I stare at my bedroom wall. Here I am, in college, and I decorated this room, and I love it. I love every picture and my constellation glow-in-the-darks and Teressa's artwork and my guitar and how it's all placed. Here I am, my Philosophy prof saying that my comments in class were probably among the most insightful, original and thought-provoking that any student made in class last semester. (This means a lot to me because I thought I would hate and suck at Philo. Not proud, just very grateful to be made to study it.) Here I am, free to express and create, feeling like I'm getting somewhere, limited only by myself.
I don't ever want my mind to be dulled. I don't want to be forced into a box at the workplace or in society. I want to expand, I want to be full and bursting at the seams with life, I want it to spill out into the world.
Jan 26, 2014
How I want my future child to grow up
- Appreciative of the beauty he/she sees around, in anything, every day
- Delighting in the little things, and with a keen fascination for things
- Healthily balanced between motivation/drive and chill-ness
- Happy, or at least able to find healthy outlets for worries and other negative feelings
- Loving the outdoors as well as the indoors
I actually really don't want my child to grow up in Singapore. Being here when he/she is older is fine, but I don't want my child to grow up in the sterile yet perpetually hectic and dissatisfied environment here. I want my child to grow up playing in the outdoors and being creative, in a relaxed, nurturing environment. It does so much for a person. With that foundation he/she can move on to the city life, but I really want him/her to first know that in life, we must strive to be the best of ourselves, while always also remembering to be happy and to love the beauty in the little things.
When I stayed in Abingdon (Oxfordshire) for a week, that was pretty much it. I went for a two-hour walk with the dog and there were these beautiful fields - not in the pruned-perfectly-pretty sense, but in the natural, free sense. And the girls both sang along to Taylor Swift and happily helped out with the vineyard; they baked and bounced on their trampoline and played hide-and-seek. There were 12th-century churches and houses left their gates open.
- Delighting in the little things, and with a keen fascination for things
- Healthily balanced between motivation/drive and chill-ness
- Happy, or at least able to find healthy outlets for worries and other negative feelings
- Loving the outdoors as well as the indoors
I actually really don't want my child to grow up in Singapore. Being here when he/she is older is fine, but I don't want my child to grow up in the sterile yet perpetually hectic and dissatisfied environment here. I want my child to grow up playing in the outdoors and being creative, in a relaxed, nurturing environment. It does so much for a person. With that foundation he/she can move on to the city life, but I really want him/her to first know that in life, we must strive to be the best of ourselves, while always also remembering to be happy and to love the beauty in the little things.
Jake Evans wasn't mentally ill, just a curious normal person
"When I look at people, especially teenagers, I see them as being very cruel to one another emotionally. It seems that their favourite hobby is picking on someone else. The people who are racists, bullies, and who are full of themselves are the really evil ones. And it amazes me because those three qualities are extremely common today. I was very sad because I felt like my own family was becoming the people I hate. I know now though that I'm done with killing. It's the most dreadful and terrifying thing I will ever experience. And what happened last night will haunt me forever."
(this post is a response to the comments on this article about the murder)
Don't blame it on his medication or a mental condition. You don't need to be mentally unsound to kill somebody. Stop putting him in a category so distant from yourself. He isn't a different person. Any one of us could be him. Read his confession.
I can't comment on the article but I thought it was obvious that this was simply the curiosity of a teenager that had gone way too far. But no. No one seems to have brought up that possibility. Everyone's talking about how he was mentally unstable, or how he could do such a revolting thing. Well look, he had watched a morbid movie thrice in a week. He has strong aversions towards emotionally insensitive people. He sees a sad, ugly side of the world; no doubt the movie was a big factor; he was simply drowning in the emotions of the time, overcome by fascination, curiosity, and a dread at the state of society. With the influences around - the mass media, popular songs, the fact that a gun lies in an unlocked drawer in your house - why do we try to blame his actions on a mental illness?
Stop it. Any one of us could've been overwhelmed by curiosity the way he was then. We have all stopped at one point in time and wondered, "what's stopping me from doing this?" whether it's letting go of the glass you're holding or putting the knife to your wrist or letting your foot get stuck in the gap between the train and the platform. We just know that time will continue regardless, and there will be pain, so you restrain yourself as you always have.
My point is that it could be any one of us. We all have the potential for good and evil - or to do things that society deems good, or evil. He was fascinated by the emotionless way the boy in the movie killed. I mean, is it that hard? What's stopping him from taking a gun and killing a person? Curiosity can kill eh, and when something tragic happens as a result of damn curiosity people say they must have been brought up wrongly, what kind of values, what mental problems, what went wrong, what went wrong? Maybe he isn't as different as a person from you.
I thought this was the clearest point that stood out from the article, but it seems not. I want to make this known to the world. These people that do these things could be any one of us.
(this post is a response to the comments on this article about the murder)
Don't blame it on his medication or a mental condition. You don't need to be mentally unsound to kill somebody. Stop putting him in a category so distant from yourself. He isn't a different person. Any one of us could be him. Read his confession.
I can't comment on the article but I thought it was obvious that this was simply the curiosity of a teenager that had gone way too far. But no. No one seems to have brought up that possibility. Everyone's talking about how he was mentally unstable, or how he could do such a revolting thing. Well look, he had watched a morbid movie thrice in a week. He has strong aversions towards emotionally insensitive people. He sees a sad, ugly side of the world; no doubt the movie was a big factor; he was simply drowning in the emotions of the time, overcome by fascination, curiosity, and a dread at the state of society. With the influences around - the mass media, popular songs, the fact that a gun lies in an unlocked drawer in your house - why do we try to blame his actions on a mental illness?
Stop it. Any one of us could've been overwhelmed by curiosity the way he was then. We have all stopped at one point in time and wondered, "what's stopping me from doing this?" whether it's letting go of the glass you're holding or putting the knife to your wrist or letting your foot get stuck in the gap between the train and the platform. We just know that time will continue regardless, and there will be pain, so you restrain yourself as you always have.
My point is that it could be any one of us. We all have the potential for good and evil - or to do things that society deems good, or evil. He was fascinated by the emotionless way the boy in the movie killed. I mean, is it that hard? What's stopping him from taking a gun and killing a person? Curiosity can kill eh, and when something tragic happens as a result of damn curiosity people say they must have been brought up wrongly, what kind of values, what mental problems, what went wrong, what went wrong? Maybe he isn't as different as a person from you.
I thought this was the clearest point that stood out from the article, but it seems not. I want to make this known to the world. These people that do these things could be any one of us.
Jan 23, 2014
We are our own slave-drivers
I just read an article about a girl in UPenn who committed suicide. It reads, "At the end of high school and going to Penn she was the happiest girl on the planet. It was easy for her in high school," said Madison Holleran’s father... "There was a lot more pressure in the classroom at Penn. She wasn’t normal happy Madison. Now she had worries and stress".
The article was also run on the Daily Mail, from which I quote:
Family friend Bob Weckworth said the high-achiever ultimately couldn't cope with the expectations she'd set herself...
"She got a 3.5 her first semester, and I think just the high expectations that she put on herself was that that’s just not acceptable. 'She was not happy at Penn, but the parents had told her then, ‘Don’t go back. We’ll transfer. We’ll look at other schools. There’s no reason to go back, it’s OK,’' he said.
Isn't it funny that the higher up we are, or the better a place we are in, the smaller we feel?
This article makes me terribly sad because as much as I deny it, I see it in myself, and definitely in those around me: the more we achieve, the more we expect of ourselves and the more we despise ourselves when we are not excellent. I mean, at Yale-NUS I always feel like I don't really care how my grades will turn out, because I am prioritising living and learning to the fullest, even if it doesn't translate into good grades. Or that's what I think, anyway. Today we had our weekly Quantitative Reasoning quiz, and I got extremely pissed at myself because I could've gotten full marks, but I made all these careless mistakes and got only 50%. And an A is 95%. And I managed to use the coding program to make a really pretty graph on my own, y'know? But it means nothing if the tests don't show I can do it.
And it's funny. When I got an A1 for the Chinese O's, I immediately made that my expectation even though I knew my Chinese is far worse than my grade implied. And then I got disappointed when I got a B for the A Levels, but why should I be pissed when my command of Chinese doesn't even deserve a C in the first place? And my final grades are usually far above what I expect - like, I get Ds and Es for every test and miraculously make an A in the end. (That was basically my whole A Level story lol.) The end-grade makes no sense. Yet I take it to be the standard for myself, and then if I get a B after that, I get pissed. Suddenly I go from being content with a D to hating myself for a B.
It's strange that the more we achieve, the more we take to be "normal", and the less we are happy with. Yes, the best schools have the worst academic stress levels, but the pressure is often self-inflicted. My Nanyang Girls' tuition kid was talking about how she did "really badly" for her Lit paper, and it was a friggin' 20/25. That's more than I have ever scored for an essay. We become obsessed with perfection, and anything less is an insult to ourselves. It's a blessing to know when to be grateful and content, while also not being complacent.
This girl who committed suicide, her parents encouraged her to transfer out. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wouldn't settle for less. She felt like she was worth more, that her grades should've been better because she was excellent. Mediocrity means different things to different people. For some, mediocrity might be having nationally-average grades. For others, mediocrity might be blending into the background. And even in the best school, you can blend into the background. You feel the need to be the best wherever you are, whether it's in an average high school or an Ivy League. You've never been any less, after all.
It's so important to step back and remember how fortunate we are to have gotten this far already. But it's really difficult because we are immersed in the environment of our school or social class, and that becomes our gauge, our universe. You could live in the smallest house in Orchard Road and feel like a poor wimp, or be a retainee in a top school and feel like a reject. Here in college, I often feel very incompetent and unintelligent, like everyone else has brains full of volumes of books and I have nothing. But that's a funny way of thinking, right? My other friends would go, look Karen, you're in freaking Yale-NUS, with an average admissions rate of under 4%, and the people here are exceptional. It's unreasonable to compare yourself to exceptional people and feel like a lousy person.
Okay, I think it's more than just pegging yourself against your immediate community. It's also about pegging yourself against what you think you are able to achieve, and this is the greatest pressure. Like, before taking the O Levels, I expected an L1R5 of 9, and I was hoping to go to SAJC. And when I got my results, a raw score of 7 which is 1 point away from the 'perfect score' and a final score of 5 (7-2), I was somehow disappointed that I wouldn't even be able to try appealing to Hwa Chong. And that was unreasonable of myself. I mean, I didn't even take Higher Chinese; I wouldn't have been able to make it to Hwa Chong anyway. But suddenly, when it seemed to be somewhat within grasp, I started to take that as an expectation for myself. Funny huh.
Yeah, sorry this is a rambly disorganised post. Just typing out my flow of thought. I'm just, very sad for the girl. I hope this serves as a wake-up call to us - that we might not be the best, and we might think we can do better, but it's okay. We have so much already, and we just need to step back and remember that.
The article was also run on the Daily Mail, from which I quote:
Family friend Bob Weckworth said the high-achiever ultimately couldn't cope with the expectations she'd set herself...
"She got a 3.5 her first semester, and I think just the high expectations that she put on herself was that that’s just not acceptable. 'She was not happy at Penn, but the parents had told her then, ‘Don’t go back. We’ll transfer. We’ll look at other schools. There’s no reason to go back, it’s OK,’' he said.
Isn't it funny that the higher up we are, or the better a place we are in, the smaller we feel?
This article makes me terribly sad because as much as I deny it, I see it in myself, and definitely in those around me: the more we achieve, the more we expect of ourselves and the more we despise ourselves when we are not excellent. I mean, at Yale-NUS I always feel like I don't really care how my grades will turn out, because I am prioritising living and learning to the fullest, even if it doesn't translate into good grades. Or that's what I think, anyway. Today we had our weekly Quantitative Reasoning quiz, and I got extremely pissed at myself because I could've gotten full marks, but I made all these careless mistakes and got only 50%. And an A is 95%. And I managed to use the coding program to make a really pretty graph on my own, y'know? But it means nothing if the tests don't show I can do it.
And it's funny. When I got an A1 for the Chinese O's, I immediately made that my expectation even though I knew my Chinese is far worse than my grade implied. And then I got disappointed when I got a B for the A Levels, but why should I be pissed when my command of Chinese doesn't even deserve a C in the first place? And my final grades are usually far above what I expect - like, I get Ds and Es for every test and miraculously make an A in the end. (That was basically my whole A Level story lol.) The end-grade makes no sense. Yet I take it to be the standard for myself, and then if I get a B after that, I get pissed. Suddenly I go from being content with a D to hating myself for a B.
It's strange that the more we achieve, the more we take to be "normal", and the less we are happy with. Yes, the best schools have the worst academic stress levels, but the pressure is often self-inflicted. My Nanyang Girls' tuition kid was talking about how she did "really badly" for her Lit paper, and it was a friggin' 20/25. That's more than I have ever scored for an essay. We become obsessed with perfection, and anything less is an insult to ourselves. It's a blessing to know when to be grateful and content, while also not being complacent.
This girl who committed suicide, her parents encouraged her to transfer out. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wouldn't settle for less. She felt like she was worth more, that her grades should've been better because she was excellent. Mediocrity means different things to different people. For some, mediocrity might be having nationally-average grades. For others, mediocrity might be blending into the background. And even in the best school, you can blend into the background. You feel the need to be the best wherever you are, whether it's in an average high school or an Ivy League. You've never been any less, after all.
It's so important to step back and remember how fortunate we are to have gotten this far already. But it's really difficult because we are immersed in the environment of our school or social class, and that becomes our gauge, our universe. You could live in the smallest house in Orchard Road and feel like a poor wimp, or be a retainee in a top school and feel like a reject. Here in college, I often feel very incompetent and unintelligent, like everyone else has brains full of volumes of books and I have nothing. But that's a funny way of thinking, right? My other friends would go, look Karen, you're in freaking Yale-NUS, with an average admissions rate of under 4%, and the people here are exceptional. It's unreasonable to compare yourself to exceptional people and feel like a lousy person.
Okay, I think it's more than just pegging yourself against your immediate community. It's also about pegging yourself against what you think you are able to achieve, and this is the greatest pressure. Like, before taking the O Levels, I expected an L1R5 of 9, and I was hoping to go to SAJC. And when I got my results, a raw score of 7 which is 1 point away from the 'perfect score' and a final score of 5 (7-2), I was somehow disappointed that I wouldn't even be able to try appealing to Hwa Chong. And that was unreasonable of myself. I mean, I didn't even take Higher Chinese; I wouldn't have been able to make it to Hwa Chong anyway. But suddenly, when it seemed to be somewhat within grasp, I started to take that as an expectation for myself. Funny huh.
Yeah, sorry this is a rambly disorganised post. Just typing out my flow of thought. I'm just, very sad for the girl. I hope this serves as a wake-up call to us - that we might not be the best, and we might think we can do better, but it's okay. We have so much already, and we just need to step back and remember that.
Jan 22, 2014
resolutions this year
This is the exact opposite of what I put on Kevin's wall last semester. I told him that it was okay to not be okay, that he could depend on other people, and that someday he might see how my joys and fears were dependent on his - it is all a little sister knows.
I am tired of being the person I was last semester (and also in 2011). It was always draining, always unfilled, always longing and comparing and worrying. I want to be enough for myself. I want to be a person who concludes in acceptance, knowing that it doesn’t affect her self-worth or self-love (whatever that is), and who can decide to be happy.
(I thought I had achieved it, but no, no, I haven't after all; this realisation terrified me today.)
Can you do anything about this? Do you even want to? No? Okay then; how can you change your emotional response to it? How can you feel okay about it? Take active steps to be happy.
It is not a formula and I can only learn along the way, but I believe I will be okay. And I don't know how to do this without forcing myself into an attitude of dismissing and not caring about other people/situations, or into deliberate indifference / delusion. But I promise to make an effort to find self-sufficiency in love and happiness.
Jan 15, 2014
Singapore will change
I was recently engaged in a conversation that reinforced the ugly glaring fact of Singapore's stifling culture, and all the people who have fallen prey, become dead, and are spreading the zombie virus. I forget it often because of the amazing environment I'm immersed in in school, where people have started their own board game companies, national-scale NGOs funded by huge organisations, and more; where our debate and MUN teams go off for international events (and clinch awards) without any training from an external coach; where we organise and start whatever we want. Many of my close friends outside school are also doing what they love, whether it's financial consulting, game-coding or app-designing. They're loving what they're learning and forming opinions for themselves, rejecting some of what has been fed to them since young.
I believe a lot of this stifling culture will change with this generation, because we haven't seen the struggles of the country like the previous generations have; we grew up taking for granted the gifts of education, full stomachs and a bed. See, Singapore was a third-world island with no resources and no support; we struggled, but triumphed when we found the formula for success. Since then, we've been on a roll, but the country is still clinging to its formula in desperation. It is never enough. A family-sized government flat in the suburbs can cost half a million dollars. A car is a couple hundred grand. And the older generations run on the fear that if we were to ever loosen our grip, we would plummet back to poverty, high unemployment, and struggles. They are too afraid to take a risk; we already have the formula - why try to find another one, at the risk of a plummet?
I concluded, for now, that Singaporeans are blessed enough to have a foundation of stability in terms of relative material stability and security and educational access, but the curse is when we are mentally bound by the culture and mindsets of those around us.
I believe my generation will see that some things just aren't working like they used to anymore, and let in some fresh air. But we have to be brave enough to fight safe monotony. Do something we love and be great at it, instead of being content with secure mediocrity all our lives. This passion doesn't have to be the single focus from the start - you've got to have the money to pursue your passion sometimes - but we should never throw it away. If you have passion and dedication for something you will rise up in the field. Dive into whatever you feel passionate to build. I have extremely smart and talented friends who are utterly passionate about education and politics; they see the cogs in the machine that are now irrelevant, and they believe something bold should be done about it, and they are willing to invest their lives.
When I received my A Level results, I considered applying to law schools instead of Literature courses. My mum said I was being ridiculous, I would be a terrible lawyer, and that I should stop trying to be someone I'm not. My mum pursued pure biology and pure chemistry in university at a time when not all believed in the value of higher education for girls; they said she was being silly to choose her course, and that other than being a researcher, her career options were dead. Look at how far biochemistry and other related fields have come; look at how big companies chase after her qualifications, and the places she travels to to give talks. "Do what you're passionate enough to become excellent at," she says, "and the jobs will come after you."
Of course, another great hurdle is culture. Mindsets about pursuing something that might not be the most lucrative or stable. This place is barren ground. But with time, water and stimuli, the fruits of passion and excellence can grow again. I believe Singaporean youths can grow up to become bolder people, people who take initiative and pursue their careers not only for the priority of material security, but also to live life.
Unfortunately, we are still timid, aren't we? Playing it safe, letting the fear of authority form a path for us via elimination of doors, because that's the easy way. Letting others speak up in class because we're afraid of the humiliation of getting something wrong or saying something dumb. Preferring to follow instructions, because thinking is hard. I hope enough of us will be willing to take the front seat.
-
postscript:
I posted this on The Online Citizen (not that I agree with the site and its readers/commenters - I just thought it was a relevant platform for the issue I wanted to address) and received some comments, some really nice and some sad but true, and I thought I'd post some few up here.
(omg LOL)
I believe a lot of this stifling culture will change with this generation, because we haven't seen the struggles of the country like the previous generations have; we grew up taking for granted the gifts of education, full stomachs and a bed. See, Singapore was a third-world island with no resources and no support; we struggled, but triumphed when we found the formula for success. Since then, we've been on a roll, but the country is still clinging to its formula in desperation. It is never enough. A family-sized government flat in the suburbs can cost half a million dollars. A car is a couple hundred grand. And the older generations run on the fear that if we were to ever loosen our grip, we would plummet back to poverty, high unemployment, and struggles. They are too afraid to take a risk; we already have the formula - why try to find another one, at the risk of a plummet?
I concluded, for now, that Singaporeans are blessed enough to have a foundation of stability in terms of relative material stability and security and educational access, but the curse is when we are mentally bound by the culture and mindsets of those around us.
I believe my generation will see that some things just aren't working like they used to anymore, and let in some fresh air. But we have to be brave enough to fight safe monotony. Do something we love and be great at it, instead of being content with secure mediocrity all our lives. This passion doesn't have to be the single focus from the start - you've got to have the money to pursue your passion sometimes - but we should never throw it away. If you have passion and dedication for something you will rise up in the field. Dive into whatever you feel passionate to build. I have extremely smart and talented friends who are utterly passionate about education and politics; they see the cogs in the machine that are now irrelevant, and they believe something bold should be done about it, and they are willing to invest their lives.
When I received my A Level results, I considered applying to law schools instead of Literature courses. My mum said I was being ridiculous, I would be a terrible lawyer, and that I should stop trying to be someone I'm not. My mum pursued pure biology and pure chemistry in university at a time when not all believed in the value of higher education for girls; they said she was being silly to choose her course, and that other than being a researcher, her career options were dead. Look at how far biochemistry and other related fields have come; look at how big companies chase after her qualifications, and the places she travels to to give talks. "Do what you're passionate enough to become excellent at," she says, "and the jobs will come after you."
Of course, another great hurdle is culture. Mindsets about pursuing something that might not be the most lucrative or stable. This place is barren ground. But with time, water and stimuli, the fruits of passion and excellence can grow again. I believe Singaporean youths can grow up to become bolder people, people who take initiative and pursue their careers not only for the priority of material security, but also to live life.
Unfortunately, we are still timid, aren't we? Playing it safe, letting the fear of authority form a path for us via elimination of doors, because that's the easy way. Letting others speak up in class because we're afraid of the humiliation of getting something wrong or saying something dumb. Preferring to follow instructions, because thinking is hard. I hope enough of us will be willing to take the front seat.
-
postscript:
I posted this on The Online Citizen (not that I agree with the site and its readers/commenters - I just thought it was a relevant platform for the issue I wanted to address) and received some comments, some really nice and some sad but true, and I thought I'd post some few up here.
(omg LOL)Jan 2, 2014
a plea to my generation
Oh look, the girls in front of me are from River Valley. Good school. High PSLE scores. Smart people.
Dear girls, dear girls, I hope you do the things that you love, and that you choose to love what you do. I hope you find the things you do to be enriching. I hope you reflect, and that your experiences build you to become better people, to make the world a better place. Let everything you do teach you something valuable. Don't see school and work as a dread, only to find escape in the other things - let school and work be your joy! Love the things you have to do. Crescent taught me tremendously much, my time at ACJC was fantastic, and at Yale-NUS I'm having the time of my life, both in and outside the classroom. If you love what you do you'll never work a day, and life is too short and unpredictable to feel trapped. Don't let negative experiences go to waste either - let them give you depth, and the capacity for compassion. Again, reflect. Let the way you see the world and yourself change and change again.
Think about these things. Don't simply go through the motion. The depth of reflection and philosophy is infinite, and so precious, and it gives your life meaning.
Dear girls, I hope you find meaning in everything you do. Don't just engage in mindless chasing. We Singaporeans do love to chase - grades, money, all things bright and shiny; we blindly chase and chase, we clamber desperately, and miss the main point: the journey. Whether it's part-timing at Subway or mugging for your exams, I hope you do not discount the process and look only to the end-goal, because we never really reach the end. Just a few months, and it will all be over. Just a year more and I'm out of this place. All too soon you will wonder where the years have gone.
Dear girls, dear girls, I hope you do the things that you love, and that you choose to love what you do. I hope you find the things you do to be enriching. I hope you reflect, and that your experiences build you to become better people, to make the world a better place. Let everything you do teach you something valuable. Don't see school and work as a dread, only to find escape in the other things - let school and work be your joy! Love the things you have to do. Crescent taught me tremendously much, my time at ACJC was fantastic, and at Yale-NUS I'm having the time of my life, both in and outside the classroom. If you love what you do you'll never work a day, and life is too short and unpredictable to feel trapped. Don't let negative experiences go to waste either - let them give you depth, and the capacity for compassion. Again, reflect. Let the way you see the world and yourself change and change again.
Think about these things. Don't simply go through the motion. The depth of reflection and philosophy is infinite, and so precious, and it gives your life meaning.
Dear girls, I hope you find meaning in everything you do. Don't just engage in mindless chasing. We Singaporeans do love to chase - grades, money, all things bright and shiny; we blindly chase and chase, we clamber desperately, and miss the main point: the journey. Whether it's part-timing at Subway or mugging for your exams, I hope you do not discount the process and look only to the end-goal, because we never really reach the end. Just a few months, and it will all be over. Just a year more and I'm out of this place. All too soon you will wonder where the years have gone.
Dec 24, 2013
why good and bad exists in us: a revision (for kev)
(day 2 of nepal, 5pm)
i wish to revise my suggested reason for the innate tendency / choice in people to do evil. i once said that maybe we need the negatives to exist in order to know the positive. (reference blog post) but i don't think that's WHY we have the negatives in us. it's just a consequence. both for worse and for better.
so why? we're just fallen. we chose not to be innocently blinded, guided only by God's embrace. that's how it started out, and God Himself wanted to protect us from this pain of choice that is presented only when we know of the other side, but then we chose to be exposed to good and evil; we ate the fruit of the knowledge. therefore we must be aware of both sides. the reason is the seed deposited in all of us.
--
(TLDR - just a random ramble:
As I read The Fault In Our Stars and muse on how all its philosophical ideas are weaved into a teenagery love story, I think: no, perhaps if given the opportunity again, i would still say no. Perhaps he is not worth me. He has not been privy to the things that go on in my head, the basket weaves and yarn loops of philosophies about love and futility and beauty and identity and the universe and God. The only person who has - sufficiently but still only a little - is probably kev - he’s probably the only one I’ve talked to long enough, and deep enough, for conversations to occasionally lead down that road. And the conversations also help me further refine my philosophies - when I look back I snip away at the parts that don’t make sense anymore, or add weaves of his perspectives and still try to come to some sort of a resolution with that addition. Even then, he has only seen a glimpse, and I often denounce my relationship with these philosophies once I speak them aloud, because I realise they need to be further refined, or they still don't really do my thoughts justice. He also hasn't seen my theories / philosophies about God, I think. Maybe I've talked about them in bits and pieces to people from time to time, but never all together - it's far too much, and the thought processes have spanned years.
I think in misty clouds, and spoken or written words help me concretise them so that I can look at the thoughts and see if they really make sense. I wonder if I’ll talk to anyone long enough for them to know all of me and all my thoughts, including those that are still misty, the huge clouds I still do not understand. Maybe I don't fully understand any of them, actually. I wonder if beyond kev I’ll have the energy to build the bonds of friendship with anyone else through these discussions, these ones that matter, upon which our lives are built, that lead into the night with their tears and silences, and with the space for me to relook and refine.)
i wish to revise my suggested reason for the innate tendency / choice in people to do evil. i once said that maybe we need the negatives to exist in order to know the positive. (reference blog post) but i don't think that's WHY we have the negatives in us. it's just a consequence. both for worse and for better.
so why? we're just fallen. we chose not to be innocently blinded, guided only by God's embrace. that's how it started out, and God Himself wanted to protect us from this pain of choice that is presented only when we know of the other side, but then we chose to be exposed to good and evil; we ate the fruit of the knowledge. therefore we must be aware of both sides. the reason is the seed deposited in all of us.
--
(TLDR - just a random ramble:
As I read The Fault In Our Stars and muse on how all its philosophical ideas are weaved into a teenagery love story, I think: no, perhaps if given the opportunity again, i would still say no. Perhaps he is not worth me. He has not been privy to the things that go on in my head, the basket weaves and yarn loops of philosophies about love and futility and beauty and identity and the universe and God. The only person who has - sufficiently but still only a little - is probably kev - he’s probably the only one I’ve talked to long enough, and deep enough, for conversations to occasionally lead down that road. And the conversations also help me further refine my philosophies - when I look back I snip away at the parts that don’t make sense anymore, or add weaves of his perspectives and still try to come to some sort of a resolution with that addition. Even then, he has only seen a glimpse, and I often denounce my relationship with these philosophies once I speak them aloud, because I realise they need to be further refined, or they still don't really do my thoughts justice. He also hasn't seen my theories / philosophies about God, I think. Maybe I've talked about them in bits and pieces to people from time to time, but never all together - it's far too much, and the thought processes have spanned years.
I think in misty clouds, and spoken or written words help me concretise them so that I can look at the thoughts and see if they really make sense. I wonder if I’ll talk to anyone long enough for them to know all of me and all my thoughts, including those that are still misty, the huge clouds I still do not understand. Maybe I don't fully understand any of them, actually. I wonder if beyond kev I’ll have the energy to build the bonds of friendship with anyone else through these discussions, these ones that matter, upon which our lives are built, that lead into the night with their tears and silences, and with the space for me to relook and refine.)
Apr 18, 2013
the heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful
Look at us. Look at the ones whose faces are full of light. Look at the ones who laugh and are the life of the room. Look at the ones who walk in joy and love and whose lives are full. Full of everything good and hopeful and bright.
They're no different from the rejects down the alley, the queer kids' lane. We are all nothing, slaves to ourselves, our hearts are all deceitful above all things. We try, we cry out to heal, we receive the balm of life to cover up those wounds, but we are all broken, every single one. We're all broken. For a second that balm dries up and we're all over the place and nowhere again, spiralling down that alley, banging head-first into the walls, we don't know anymore. We just don't know.
Look at us and have compassion. We're no different. We're human, we trip over our feet all too often. The rest, they look at they start gossiping and you want to scream. Look you're no different either and you think you're all that righteous. Take me into your arms, clothe me with the warmth and goodness we both know, and say you love me all the same. We receive the strength but we're still all weak, each of us, we're weak and insecure and we don't know what it means to be confident in how beautiful we are.
And the weak ones who choose to cling on to strength are sometimes so alone. We're so alone, and our eyes look around to those who chose to let go of that strength and they get the prize and we wonder why we're doing this. Why we cling on. We could easily let go too and just never look back.
Look at the ones who tell you they are broken, and believe them. It's not something they say because they're oh so holy. It's something they say because they know they aren't. They are also struggling inside, cigarette burns on their hearts telling them what a gaping hole they need to fill.
God keeps my heart broken. Like Jacob's limp, like Paul's thorn, God keeps me broken enough to remind me of pain. Sometimes you just don't know what to do with that pain, and it's so easy to give in to yourself and crap it's everything you need and want and look at them have it so what if they're crying and hurting again now you want it too. Your heart's been struggling to say you don't want it, you don't want it, but look at what your heart wishes was your heartache, instead of the lousy pathetic one you've been given. Dammit. Why.
God I thought my heart was stronger than this now. You're showing me this is all I am. Nothing more than the lousy one I was before this. I thought I was better now but You show me the brokenness never heals. You keep me broken. The way my heart latches onto anything a shadow of acceptance and affection and hope, the way I know I'm so weak, chasing after every special smile and sparkle and oh I'm so young. Chasing. Chasing but I always fall too far behind.
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
So Heaven meets earth like an sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
That He loves us, oh how He loves us
They're no different from the rejects down the alley, the queer kids' lane. We are all nothing, slaves to ourselves, our hearts are all deceitful above all things. We try, we cry out to heal, we receive the balm of life to cover up those wounds, but we are all broken, every single one. We're all broken. For a second that balm dries up and we're all over the place and nowhere again, spiralling down that alley, banging head-first into the walls, we don't know anymore. We just don't know.
Look at us and have compassion. We're no different. We're human, we trip over our feet all too often. The rest, they look at they start gossiping and you want to scream. Look you're no different either and you think you're all that righteous. Take me into your arms, clothe me with the warmth and goodness we both know, and say you love me all the same. We receive the strength but we're still all weak, each of us, we're weak and insecure and we don't know what it means to be confident in how beautiful we are.
And the weak ones who choose to cling on to strength are sometimes so alone. We're so alone, and our eyes look around to those who chose to let go of that strength and they get the prize and we wonder why we're doing this. Why we cling on. We could easily let go too and just never look back.
Look at the ones who tell you they are broken, and believe them. It's not something they say because they're oh so holy. It's something they say because they know they aren't. They are also struggling inside, cigarette burns on their hearts telling them what a gaping hole they need to fill.
God keeps my heart broken. Like Jacob's limp, like Paul's thorn, God keeps me broken enough to remind me of pain. Sometimes you just don't know what to do with that pain, and it's so easy to give in to yourself and crap it's everything you need and want and look at them have it so what if they're crying and hurting again now you want it too. Your heart's been struggling to say you don't want it, you don't want it, but look at what your heart wishes was your heartache, instead of the lousy pathetic one you've been given. Dammit. Why.
God I thought my heart was stronger than this now. You're showing me this is all I am. Nothing more than the lousy one I was before this. I thought I was better now but You show me the brokenness never heals. You keep me broken. The way my heart latches onto anything a shadow of acceptance and affection and hope, the way I know I'm so weak, chasing after every special smile and sparkle and oh I'm so young. Chasing. Chasing but I always fall too far behind.
If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
So Heaven meets earth like an sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
That He loves us, oh how He loves us
Jan 11, 2013
To a girl who's bold
To Anthea Wang, and all the other teenage girls in the world
I just read a Yahoo! article about you, and decided to look you up on Google more. I'm not a creepy stalker; I am sensitive to the beauties of everyday life, and I see the most beauty in a person's story.
I'm only a little older than you, and I just wanted to let you know that I think you're a very strong person. Sometimes we give in to things, and we think that when people praise us, they don't really know us - they haven't really seen us. Sometimes we see the worst in ourselves, and believe things that are not true. I hope that when you read what I have to say, you won't think I'm one of those people. I hope this post encourages you a little, and I hope you realise that I'm not one to write something if I don't fully believe in it.
I think you're incredibly strong, even if you think you might not be sometimes. You're strong to choose to stay true to yourself, even if it isn't what seems to be what others want for you. You have your values and you choose to stick to them, even if you feel pushed. And even for something like choosing to defer your O's - it's a bold decision you had to make, and there must have been a lot of pressure to go either way, and I'm proud of you for being able to withstand that. To have thought about it and made a decision, despite all the arrows from both sides, whether from others or from yourself. Sometimes we think through things elaborately in our head, and it's frustrating when people think you made the decision rashly simply because you're a little girl. I know how it feels. I know how it feels when people belittle and dismiss. You held your own, and I'm proud of you.
People say things about us sometimes that make us question ourselves - whether it has to do with our looks, our values, or our pride. I want to say that I think you're really pretty. Not in the 'you're beautiful the way God has made you' way, but I genuinely do think you were born with a beautiful face. And what's even more important than one's physical appearance is the aura that a person radiates. When you're genuine and happy and comfortable with yourself, it's very evident. When you're confident enough of yourself to reject what others say about what you need to do to look better or be more popular or gain attention, it shows in your aura.
I'm going to make a pretty bold comment - I think the Kpop industry has reached its peak, and it won't be too long before it slowly, but surely, fades away. Yes, it's sleek, full of hot guys and cute girls. But they're pretty much all the same. Music is about expressing who you are, showing what life has made of you and connecting with others in a way that transcends language. Music is the song of the soul. It's individual and raw. Unfortunately, the Kpop industry, in my opinion, is a lot like a factory line. They make you who they think people want you to be, and you are hardly your own.
I'm glad you recognised that, and rejected it.
This sounds cliche, but I really want you to understand it, because you helped me understand it: Everyone is beautiful precisely because of who they are. Everyone has had different experiences and struggles. Everyone has a different personality. When someone tries to make you like someone else, or to make you fit into a certain mould, you lose a little of your uniqueness that people find intruguing. It's like pruning a tree. When you try to shape it to look like another tree, the bit that was uniquely his falls off, and he becomes another one of 'em. It's precisely the uniqueness that makes a person intruguing. No one else has had exactly the same experiences or personality as you, ever, and the things about you that are different from everyone else is what people find fascinating. A perfect, altered, beautiful face is a pretty object, but forgettable - one of the rest. An unconventionally beautiful face with a sparkle of uniqueness is intriguing. Don't you agree?
You're young, and there's so much ahead of you. I'm sure you discovered a lot more about yourself through this experience, and I'm glad you went for it too. It was, after all, an experience that very few had the privilege of getting, and self-discovery is priceless. I'm sure you've discovered how strong you are capable of being, too, and how the journey of strength will be lifelong.
I personally took a gap year, which means that I decided to go into university only this year even though I should have started last year (I graduated from JC in 2011). A lot of Singaporean adults think it's a stupid and useless thing to do, because I'm wasting a year - one year's worth of a university graduate's working salary does amount to quite a fair bit, and I'm giving up all that money just because I'm choosing to go to a brand new university that only starts in 2013 - also a risky move. But I've been making good use of this time - I've taught at two schools, waitressed and spent a month travelling in the UK alone; I'm interning at my university's office and giving lots of private tuition; I'll be going to bible school before university. Have I made use of the time productively in terms of money-earning? No. But have I gained a lot in immaterial terms? Definitely.
The experience I gained was priceless. I guess I saw a bit of a similarity between us in the sense that we both took a break from school to do something unconventional; adults may think it's impractical, but we've gained so much from the experience. Never, ever doubt that.
I want to say that I think you're a beautiful (I truly mean it) and strong person, and I can tell you've matured a lot in your thoughts. I'm happy for everything you went through, the amazing and the terrible. It's an experience people would die for, but through it all, you stayed true to yourself and learnt a lot. Thanks for your story.
If you happen to want to talk to me a little more, you can email me at karenhowenee@gmail.com :)
I just read a Yahoo! article about you, and decided to look you up on Google more. I'm not a creepy stalker; I am sensitive to the beauties of everyday life, and I see the most beauty in a person's story.
I'm only a little older than you, and I just wanted to let you know that I think you're a very strong person. Sometimes we give in to things, and we think that when people praise us, they don't really know us - they haven't really seen us. Sometimes we see the worst in ourselves, and believe things that are not true. I hope that when you read what I have to say, you won't think I'm one of those people. I hope this post encourages you a little, and I hope you realise that I'm not one to write something if I don't fully believe in it.
I think you're incredibly strong, even if you think you might not be sometimes. You're strong to choose to stay true to yourself, even if it isn't what seems to be what others want for you. You have your values and you choose to stick to them, even if you feel pushed. And even for something like choosing to defer your O's - it's a bold decision you had to make, and there must have been a lot of pressure to go either way, and I'm proud of you for being able to withstand that. To have thought about it and made a decision, despite all the arrows from both sides, whether from others or from yourself. Sometimes we think through things elaborately in our head, and it's frustrating when people think you made the decision rashly simply because you're a little girl. I know how it feels. I know how it feels when people belittle and dismiss. You held your own, and I'm proud of you.
People say things about us sometimes that make us question ourselves - whether it has to do with our looks, our values, or our pride. I want to say that I think you're really pretty. Not in the 'you're beautiful the way God has made you' way, but I genuinely do think you were born with a beautiful face. And what's even more important than one's physical appearance is the aura that a person radiates. When you're genuine and happy and comfortable with yourself, it's very evident. When you're confident enough of yourself to reject what others say about what you need to do to look better or be more popular or gain attention, it shows in your aura.
I'm going to make a pretty bold comment - I think the Kpop industry has reached its peak, and it won't be too long before it slowly, but surely, fades away. Yes, it's sleek, full of hot guys and cute girls. But they're pretty much all the same. Music is about expressing who you are, showing what life has made of you and connecting with others in a way that transcends language. Music is the song of the soul. It's individual and raw. Unfortunately, the Kpop industry, in my opinion, is a lot like a factory line. They make you who they think people want you to be, and you are hardly your own.
I'm glad you recognised that, and rejected it.
This sounds cliche, but I really want you to understand it, because you helped me understand it: Everyone is beautiful precisely because of who they are. Everyone has had different experiences and struggles. Everyone has a different personality. When someone tries to make you like someone else, or to make you fit into a certain mould, you lose a little of your uniqueness that people find intruguing. It's like pruning a tree. When you try to shape it to look like another tree, the bit that was uniquely his falls off, and he becomes another one of 'em. It's precisely the uniqueness that makes a person intruguing. No one else has had exactly the same experiences or personality as you, ever, and the things about you that are different from everyone else is what people find fascinating. A perfect, altered, beautiful face is a pretty object, but forgettable - one of the rest. An unconventionally beautiful face with a sparkle of uniqueness is intriguing. Don't you agree?
You're young, and there's so much ahead of you. I'm sure you discovered a lot more about yourself through this experience, and I'm glad you went for it too. It was, after all, an experience that very few had the privilege of getting, and self-discovery is priceless. I'm sure you've discovered how strong you are capable of being, too, and how the journey of strength will be lifelong.
I personally took a gap year, which means that I decided to go into university only this year even though I should have started last year (I graduated from JC in 2011). A lot of Singaporean adults think it's a stupid and useless thing to do, because I'm wasting a year - one year's worth of a university graduate's working salary does amount to quite a fair bit, and I'm giving up all that money just because I'm choosing to go to a brand new university that only starts in 2013 - also a risky move. But I've been making good use of this time - I've taught at two schools, waitressed and spent a month travelling in the UK alone; I'm interning at my university's office and giving lots of private tuition; I'll be going to bible school before university. Have I made use of the time productively in terms of money-earning? No. But have I gained a lot in immaterial terms? Definitely.
The experience I gained was priceless. I guess I saw a bit of a similarity between us in the sense that we both took a break from school to do something unconventional; adults may think it's impractical, but we've gained so much from the experience. Never, ever doubt that.
I want to say that I think you're a beautiful (I truly mean it) and strong person, and I can tell you've matured a lot in your thoughts. I'm happy for everything you went through, the amazing and the terrible. It's an experience people would die for, but through it all, you stayed true to yourself and learnt a lot. Thanks for your story.
If you happen to want to talk to me a little more, you can email me at karenhowenee@gmail.com :)
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