Here are afew pictures from around the house and the neighbourhood, just to give you a brief picture of the place I stay at and what it looks like in autumn.
The house I'm staying at
The street next to the house I'm staying at
A nearby street complete with yellow trees!
A tree I thought looked nice at the time (don't ask why)
The folks I'm staying with (They're awesome)
My Dad lounging around.
and me
Just finished a mid-term paper and I'm completely beat, ah the tyranny of procrastination.
The dull light flickers above. I'm perched on a tall stool, sipping some lousy watered-down coffee, watching a beat up TV crackle. Its a grimy bar, dirty and beat up. The hang out of the bums, the good-for-nothings, the town drunks. Every undesirable and shady skunk you could think of. I throw down a dollar and head out. The air outside is a little better than the rotten stench of smoke, puke and piss. A little better. I get into my truck, it's good to be inside the truck. It's so good, I stop and think about it for awhile. Then I'm off, roaring down I-94. Its monday morning 5:19, and the passerby is passing on once again.
I've never been much of a people person. I got no interest in other people. They've never been too interested in me either, and thats the deal we've had for as long as I can remember. The only people I've ever cared about were my folks, and I stopped caring bout em after they died in 86'. Now all I do is roam the country, doin work where I can find it. I never was more than a passerby.
People used to tell me bout the dream. Find a girl, settle down, maybe marry even. Get a decent job, a house, a family, the works. Wasn't for me.
A town looms on the horizon, a big cheery sign with the words 'Welcome to Crakesville' flashes by. I roll into the local gas station and step out. The air is clearer our here, cleaner. I breathe in deep, the sweet sweet air. Then I'm off, asking around about work.
A voice calls from behind, a woman's voice. "Mike? is that you Mike?" I turn around, her face is familiar, hauntingly familiar. I can't put my finger on it. My brow furrows in a frown, but hers is clear, a face filled with jubilant joy. She runs up to me and hugs me, squeezing hard, her long auburn hair in my face. Suprise is a mild word for what I felt, I push her away roughly and begin to demand an explanation when I see her face once more. Cogs begin to turn in my brain, a face flashes by, a memory, the another and another, and then a childhood comes rushing back, taking with it a name I had forgotten about a long long time ago. "I remember" I whisper softly, a look of blank astonishment on my face.
A gust of wind blows my hat off, but I am lost in thought. Its good to see her again, so good I am enamoured in thought of the idea of it. She smiles and begins talking, but my thoughts drown out her words, repeating "its her!" over and over until all else was inconsequential. I had been uncertain and anchorless for so long, but that was over now. She stretched out her hand, I took it. A thousand thoughts and dreams flickered across my mind, none of it mattered, because now, I wasn't a passerby anymore.
Meritocracy mer·i·toc·ra·cy (mr-tkr-s) 1. an elite group of people whose progress is based on ability and talent rather than on class privilege or wealth. 2. a system in which such persons are rewarded and advanced: The dean believes the educational system should be a meritocracy. 3. leadership by able and talented persons.
Elitism e‧lit‧ism (i-lee-tiz-uhm) 1. The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources. 2. consciousness of or pride in belonging to a select or favored group. 3. Control, rule, or domination by such a group or class.
Whine whine (wy-nn) 1. To utter a plaintive, high-pitched, protracted sound, as in pain, fear, supplication, or complaint. 2. To complain or protest in a childish fashion. 3. To produce a sustained noise of relatively high pitch: jet engines whining.
Condescending con·de·scend (knd-snd) 1. To descend to the level of one considered inferior; lower oneself. See Synonyms at stoop1. 2. To deal with people in a patronizingly superior manner.
As a philosopher of ancient greece noted, an argument comes in three different forms: Ethos, Pathos and Logos. These can be descrbied as morality, emotion and logic respectively. In other words, when you want to convince someone of your argument, you will appeal to a: his/her sense of morals (this is the right thing to do, so do it) b: his/her emotions (the victims of hurricane katrina are so pitiful, so we should help them!) and finally c: his/her logical mind, or where you attempt to rationalize or convince logically (if b=c, and a=c, therefore b=a)
Consequently, when confronted with arguments of these varying types, people (if they disagree with the argument) will often attempt to refute them on similar grounds.
In the case of a moral argument, the keystone of the argument is the character of the person articulating the argument (basically he's saying, "trust me, i'm trustworthy so I know what is the right thing to do. e.g. Jesus was perfect, hence what he says is true) Thus, if one disagreed with such a moral argument, he would attack the character of the person instead of its logic (look he dines with sinners, therefore he is not to be trusted!).
When the argument is based on logic (apple = fruit, pear = fruit, therefore apple = pear), the dissenter disagrees on logical grounds (apples and pears are really subsets of fruit and...).
When an argument appeals to your emotions, things get trickier. Often such arguments are met, not so much by a clear response, but by apathy and a simple negative (I'm sorry, I just don't really care).
It follows then, in the case of Wee Shu Min that her statement, following not the lines of an emotional or logical argument, was one based on ethical lines. Hence the subsequent attacks on her character and physical attributes as opposed to the logic of her statement.
Of course there are always discerning individuals, like those highlighted on IS, who respond to the logic of the argument rather than the flawed ethics of it; or better yet, see that it isn't really an argument at all, but a symptom of a most disagreeable state of mind on Ms Wee's part. In any case, all I wanted to say is, if you feel the need to respond, bear these words and definitions in mind before spouting anything that might make you look stupid.
Open up the skies of mercy And rain down the cleansing flood Healing waters rise around us Hear our cries lord let 'em rise Open up the skies of mercy And rain down the cleansing flood Healing waters rise around us Hear our cries lord let 'em rise
It's your kindness lord That leads us to repentance Your favor lord, is our desire It's your beauty lord That makes us stand in silence Your love Your love Is better than life
We can feel Your mercy falling You are turnin our hearts back again Hear our praises rise to heaven Draw us near lord Meet us here
It's your kindness lord That leads us to repentance Your favor lord, is our desire It's your beauty lord That makes us stand in silence Your love Your love
It's your kindness lord That leads us to repentance Your favor lord, is our desire It's your beauty lord That makes us stand in silence Your love Your love Is better than life Is better than life
Your love
Open up the skies of mercy And rain down the cleansing flood Healing waters rise around us Hear our cries lord let 'em rise
By Chris Tomlin
Incidentally, you should probably read this link. It has something interesting to say about the way language is taught in countries like Singapore.
Consider this; a Singaporean boy has just taken his PSLE. He didn't really study for it mainly because he didn't really like studying. I mean, who really does like studying at the age of twelve. He's a smart kid. He can solve sums if he puts enough effort into it, knows enough science to tell you there are mainly three states of matter and whatnot. He can speak Chinese and English well enough, but let’s face it, at this stage in his life, he doesn't really care. In his mind, he hates school, detests going through it everyday and can't wait to get out so he can run home and watch Dexter's Laboratory or play Starcraft. So he takes his PSLE, and amid high hopes manages to get a halfway decent aggregate score of 239. His parents aren't thrilled; they had pretty high hopes for him. They're not poor, they're not rich either, but they are willing to do whatever they can to get the Best for their son. However, obviously their son wasn't as motivated as they were. Dreams of schools like Hwa Chong and Raffles Institution are washed down the drain. The parents sigh and console themselves with Fairfield Methodist Secondary. Its got a good reputation, and I suspect has no more problems than any other secondary school in Singapore. The ultimate goal is of course, the parents hope, for their son to be a big fish in a small pond. They dream he will work hard and be the top student and redeem himself in a prestigious Junior College, like Raffles or Victoria. After all, if their friend's son who also went to Fairfield could do it, their son could too right? Those were the best schools that anyone could go to. A Rafflesian has his future made, or so the common folk believe. These schools are the dream of the people, the pinnacle of a Singaporean education, every child-loving Singaporean parent hopes his or her child will be a part of these institutions, and who can blame them? They are the heaven the peasantry cannot reach, the preserve of the modern day aristocracy. Those who are within this inner elect are forever marked by society as a breed set above the rest. They are the ones who 'have the makings of greatness'. Or do they?
Consider another boy. His parents were not so lenient with him. They drove him to study everyday. When he wasn't in school, he was at tuition. His family was rich, and they put their fortune to use, employing a tuition teacher for every subject and drilling their son mercilessly in the mastery of these subjects. Formulae and exam smart techniques were discussed and then memorized. Characters and equations swallowed whole. At the end of it, they had a son who had no commitments save one, to mug his guts out and get himself into Raffles Institution, who keeps friends from Primary School anyway? Their son is no Einstein, but his hard work pays off and he makes it in. Upon entrance however, he discovers that there is no time to slack. The rigors of being in Singapore's top institution are upon him and being less brilliant than other Rafflesians, he slogs his guts out for four years just to be on level ground with the others. He works harder than ever before if anything, but he's used to it now. Who needs friends when they have grades to worry about? He emerges a social outcast, the mama's boy who runs home after school to study everyday. Dad's friends remark about such a lovely obedient and industrious boy. Classmates laugh at the nerd. It’s alright though, because he is going to get a perfect score at the O'levels, get into RJC and eventually ship himself off to a World Class University like Harvard or Princeton, he'll show everyone then, 5 or 10 or even 20 years down the road, but he'll show em. He dreams then, of swaggering into a reunion party as a billionaire CEO, a sleek black BMW in the parking lot, a hot model on his arm and a wallet decked out with platinum cards. Perfection! Who needs friends when you have all that?
Consider this hypothetical contest. Assume then (just bear with me now) that the first and second boy are of equal intelligence (assuming that such a thing can be measured). Assume further that success is measured monetarily and materialistically an thus can be decided in a simplistic "his college is ranked higher than your college" kind of comparison. Which boy do you think will go further? Let’s put the start point at the O'level examination. Who do you think will do better?
A: the unmotivated and (lets face it) downright lazy boy who probably has a healthy social life but is merely an average student.
Or?
B: the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, who went through the pressure pot and came out a lean, mean studying machine but was (as it would appear, probably unfairly, in this very biased analogy) for all intents and purposes and emotional husk.
Probably B.
Of course, all of this is subjective and I can't really prove any of it, but still, aren't we being encouraged to sell our souls for monetary advancement? What is the price that our so-called meritocracy imposes on us?
And the preacher declared, "There are other sheep in his fold, they too must hear his voice. Therefore go forth and spread the good news, the time of the harvest is upon us!"
There's a new world somewhere They call the Promised Land And I'll be there someday If you will hold my hand I still need you there beside me No matter what I do For I know I'll never find another you
There is always someone For each of us they say And you'll be my someone Forever and a day I could search the whole world over Until my life is through But I know I'll never find another you
It's a long, long journey So, stay by my side When I walk through the storm, You'll be my guide, be my guide
If they gave me a fortune, My pleasure would be small I could lose it all tomorrow And never mind at all But if I should lose your love, dear, I don't know what I'll do For I know I'll never find another you
(Instrumental bridge)
But if I should lose your love, dear, I don't know what I'll do For I know I'll never find another you
For those Star Wars fans out there who haven't heard this or need a good reminder. Here's the original url.
In other news, I'm done with all my mid-term tests (YES! WAHAHAHA). I do have a paper or two to write but thats easy enough so no worries. I will post something cleverer and more informative when I'm feeling less lazy.
Describe the more prominent characteristics of the Pharisees in Jesus' day. In what ways were the Pharisees both an elitist and popular movement? How might both of these tendencies have contributed to the tension between the Pharisees and early followers of Jesus? How would you describe Jesus' relationship to the Pharisaic movement?
Heres one for Pastor to ponder :/
Incidentally, I'm gonna be answering this in forty minutes. Ah the troubles of life.
As a side note, someone should tell Ms Hia to go and watch GTO (Great Teacher Onizuka). Its Awesome!
I am in the middle of crunch time. I have to hand in an annotated bibliography complete with descriptions of at least 10 sources, a fully described thesis statement, and a working paper outline for english. On thursday I will be taking a mid-term paper for my religion class for which I am nearly completely unprepared. I have to read and understand a chapter of ATOM (A journey across the Subatomic Universe) for class tomorrow and I have a test for World Politics on Friday. To place the icing on the cake, Praise Band (which I got myself into) has a 'performance/ outreach event' on Sunday which I'll probably be drumming for which we need to rehearse for. Despite all this, I saw fit to go on a retreat with the dudes at Intervarsity Christian Fellowship the weekend before this and also may have inadvertedly joined the emerging Hamline Debate Team.
There once was I, a boy floating by who swayed along in the breeze Cynical notions of terrestrial emotions they came to mind with ease Lonely it was, overflowing with doubt those first days at Fairfield were But the tides soon changed with a proffered hand in ELDDS I emerged
There I saw a most frenzied lot a passionate bunch so carefree The passion of speaking without knowing meaning soon took hold in my heart With luck and grit I was placed on the spit as one of Fairfields debate team With boisterous humour I forced opponents to a stupor and gracelessly played my sport
I joined a production of depression and cunning about the follies of youth The folks were great the taskmistress sedate the times we had were swell Twas there that I fell swiftly into a spell of the bewitchment of a crush But I was cowardly and the year passed solemnly my hope and chance had passed
Then in my second year, arose new manure My form teacher spoke chinese The sarcastic quartet and its stinging duets I strove to sing to please Mandopop dancing and bitchy fencing I endured silently and cringed Funfairs and mugging, the top class I was in and in retrospect, twas fun indeed
In the 3rd year things changed, I was cast astray into a class I knew not I joined another production and led debate to a destruction of its previous feelings of doubt To the semi-finals, we marched
I got this far before realizing that this was a whole load of carp and that I was wasting my time. Go figure
It seems that the last days of secondary schoolhood have come for my friends. After 4 (or for others 10) years of being in fairfield, my classmates, friends and fellow students at Fairfield have come to the close of their official secondary school lives. It is a new feeling. As the O'levels loom, they have little time to ponder this new state of affairs. Where do they go from here? When the dust has settled and they are finished with calculus, atoms and Shakespere, what will happen next? A tightening of belts and a sharpening of pencils, anticipation for Results Day. Then what? JC? Poly? Mayhap for a special few emigration to 'greener pastures'. Regardless, their days of idle youth are ending, their adolescence drawing to a close, their days of wearing the yellow and blue are numbered, as mine were. What do they feel? Sadness? Regret? Or perhaps satisfaction, and fond memory of time spent? Mayhap it is not on their minds at all, that would be a greater tragedy. If one had been too caught up with stuffing Narayan into his head to even remember shooting the breeze and smelling the flowers. To have lost their experiences to the beast of forgetfulness. What kind of loss would that be?
Mayhap the most romantic period of their lives has passed them already. The moments of youthful abandon and jubilant insanity are leaving, never to return. Though you may grasp at them wildly, the clock cannot be turned backward, the rope of time cannot be unravelled. I hope that they have memories to remember, precious fragments of the joys they have felt, the bonds they have forged, and the moments they have had. I pray they will always remember them, and that they will endure so that they can look back and know that their time was not wasted. Even if they didn't get straight A's or the most impressive resume, at least they had a whooping Bang of a time!
I dig up my own past. Was it so long ago that I was a shy little kid in ELDDS, stammering out monologues in an Ang moh accent? Was it so long ago that I held up a sign extolling the wonders of 1B's Sambal Prawns in that funfair? I remember that fondly, chatting with other human signboards, making special trips past the science block so I could glance at the girl I had a crush on. Nostalgia fills me. When did I shed that persona? When did that part of me die? I remember my second year, when old acquaintances became new friends. The Sarcastic Quartet. The JIBS. I remember you with fondness. I remember long hazy afternoons spent in a dusty classroom, memorizing dance steps to the tune of a Mandapop Singer. I wonder if I will ever do something like that again. I remember my brief internship at AMD, where I met Clarence. I continue to be amazed by the consequences of that meeting, it is perhaps the most profound relationship I have ever had with another human being. It seems so long ago now. I think of the FAGS, 4D and 2A, of the people who left a part of themselves in my life. There are too many names to mention, too many people whose words and deed have touched my life. Was my skin this dark before? Was I this tall? Did I care so deeply? Or feel so much? Was the world this big? Or my own self so small? I have changed, as all of us have and hopefully I am a wiser, and better person for it.
I wonder idly what I have missed out on. The trials I would have endured. The camaraderie I would have shared. The memories I would have been a part of. Those are lost, forever, in the ever-growing dump pile of might-have-beens. I can only wonder and imagine what it would have been like if I hadn't left. To my fellow Fairsians, the class of 2006, its been an awesome Bang of a ride, and I wish with all my heart that I could have seen it all through with you.
Standing here, on the other side of the world, I can only give you my regrets, my wishes, my blessings and my earnest hope that your futures will turn out for the best. No matter where God takes me, I will look back on my days in Fairfield fondly, I hope you can too......
As is characteristic of idealists, I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to go about changing things. I am no fanatic and my belief in patriotism and idealism suffer their doubts as well. Doubtless it is well nigh impossible for any single person to engineer social or political change. Nevertheless, its not like I haven't given the matter thought.
The fundamental problem as I see things lies with our educational system. I feel there is a subtle indoctrination that takes place in our schools. It is not that of political subservience or repression, or even glorification of the PAP and its actions. It is the preeminence of material success that is placed in the mind of students like me and the subsequent relation of that eventual goal to hard work. In simpler terms, we have been told from young that our purpose in life is to make it big and to do so we must study our guts out, ignoring all else. On the surface that looks like it has nothing to do with political apathy. However, the Singaporean mindset is such that working hard and earning money has become the definition of a successful person. Big condos, sleek cars and multiple credit cards have become the trophies that we flaunt. They are society's Gods, and worship of them leaves no room for anything else. Everything else is inconsequential, a mere pastime, a leisurely activity that cannot take the place of what is 'truly important'. There is no space in this equation for political activism or for philosophical thought, or even devotion to religion.
Thus if any change is to start, it must start with the reform of this stressful mindset that has taken a stranglehold in the collective psyche of the Singaporean people. As to how thats gonna happen, I can only shrug and ask that you cut me some slack here. I'm just a ranting 16 year old who thinks he's smart, thats all.
As you might have guessed, this is a response to comments. Feel free to criticize or defend it, cos I like debates. I will respond to the comments on Nationalism at somepoint, I'm just not free now (then again, given my past record on dealing with arguments later, I wouldn't count on it) Oh well.
I want to respond to everyone, I really do. I'm flattered that everyone has so much faith in me. Sometimes, I feel I don't really deserve that faith. What can I achieve? I am a doubter, a cynic, belief comes stumbling and crumbles. I want to believe I can, many tell me I can, but there is always a nagging voice, and no matter how much I supress it, it still remains, a part of me always willing to give in to it. My conscious mind knows what needs to be done, believes that it can be done, and sets out to do it, but I remain in a stupor. My limbs don't move, my eyes are glued to the screen. My will fails and falters, and yet you believe in me. What can I do with such a belief, my muscles remain inert, I am still unable to move. Who can save me, compel me? Motivation, determination and discipline, aren't they qualities I'm supposed to have? Sloth stands in the way, it is a giant evil, with a poison so insidious that it paralyzes the best of us. I lack the will to fight it, my strength is sapped as I face it. I try to raise my fists but they are like lead weights. Unwilling to move and short on resolve I fall to my knees. I am spent, defeated. The villain has triumphed and I have no secret ancient technique to defeat it. Who do I turn to now?
Uhh, I'm kinda suprised that IS thought my earlier post worthy of mention. Thanks Inspr3d. Its really flattering. Sorry to Jacq about the haze thing, but its gone now anyway right? Hope you guys are studying hard back home. Thats all for now, later.
Snow fell today. There wasn't much of it, and the little there was came down in tiny flakes not much larger than the size of the period at the end of this sentence. But snow there was. I watched them sway gently to the ground, for just a moment, then life took over. The business of academia and attendence rising to the challenge. All wonder was gone in an instant, and I was back to reality. "How odd it was", I thought, that a marvel of nature was a distraction from real life, from what was 'truly important'. But even this was only momentary. All thought was swept away by the afairs of the day. Life went on, in its infinite bustle and business, and the wonder of snowfall, was but a distant memory......
I try not to be a bore, being a bore is no fun, it makes you look stupid. My brother hates boars they're boring, they like to prate childishly about their childishly boring lives. Repeating many many words needlessly with out any regard to effectiveness or efficiency, repeatedly. Just like debators! They go on and on and on and on and do nothing to interest the reader, unless the reader is a childish prater like themselves. Prating is evil, Fight it!
I try not to prate, its stupid and annoying, and makes my eyes hurt when I read it. Clarence prates sometimes, but he craps more often and thats no so bad, because its so unseriously stupid, its funny. But prating horh, is seriously stupid and therefore gets on my nerves.
My brother is very good at not saying much. All his latest posts, haven't really said anything. He can talk talk talk for long long long, and in the end, he just talk a whole load of cock. But that kind of cock, is even better than Clarence's crap. Because it doesn't say anything in a very clever way which is very funny. He is very clever you see. So my eyes feel good when I read my brother's blog. But other blogs like xiaxue, like to prate prate prate nonstop, so full of supid nonsense until my eyes want to pop out.
In short, you can talk a whole lot of cock and still be very clever, but you can also talk a whole lot of cock and be very stupid. So if you have alot of things to say, it doesn't mean you're smart, it just means you have alot of free time.
Jeremy is bored He likes to write nonsense because its funny to him anyway
Jeremy is happy because people like Yunxing, dylon, his brother, carissa, jacq, clarence and david who he hasn't talked to much have tagged his blog. He wishes they would comment more on what he actually said, but is happy anyway.
Jeremy is feeling lazy, because its 1025 Sunday night and he has finished his homework for Monday, he wants to blog cleverly, but can't think of anything clever to say.
Jeremy is feeling nervous, because mid-terms for his religion class are on Thursday and he hasn't studied for them. He also has alot of hard stuff to read, like Walden and Jesus the Jew, which are very clever books but are also very boring.
Jeremy likes to read clever things, but he prefers short clever things to long clever things, so college reading is annoying him.
Jeremy likes being called clever, because he suffers from frequent and astonishing bouts of self-doubt and depression. He likes to think that that makes him look like one of those famous thinker people who are kind of crazy but are also very clever.
Jeremy is upset that dylon thinks his ego is very big. He likes to think that he is humble where it matters. Still, he will endeavour to be more humble and not get very annoyed with people who are being silly.
Jeremy wishes more people would visit his blog and write little clever things in the comments and tagboard so that his blog will become a clever little place where clever people like to meet and talk about things. He wishes his youth group and other brother would talk more here but is otherwise satisfied.
Jeremy wants to be a clever person who says clever things. He wishes people would notice that there are many clever references to clever things throughout this silly post. He thinks no one will. He also wishes sometimes for someone clever to talk to in real life who was at the same level of intellectual inferiority that he is at.
Jeremy wants to be a nicer guy, he also hopes the Singapore haze will go go far away and come again another day, because he is a nice guy. He wishes people would notice that, people never notice anything.
Jeremy wants to be a better writer, he has many term papers to write, so writing smarter means he gets to take less flak from dad about being responsible, which although it is an expression of love, gets mighty tiresome after awhile.
But what Jeremy wants most right now, is to go home......
I was reading a post on Intelligent Singaporean on the reasons why Singaporeans emigrate to other countries. Basically, what the author said was that emigrating Singaporeans did so because of the tolerance and freedom of other western countries and that these qualities overrode all the good points of Singapore, despite the negative aspects of foreign countries. The inclusiveness and accpetance they found abroad was infinitely preferable to the inanely busy pressure-cooker rat-race that we find in Singapore.
Doubtless, there are many who agree with him. Singapore, for all its safety and efficiency, is certainly lacking in social friendliness, inclusiveness and accountability. We have a Kiasee/Kiasu culture that to some is essential and endearing but I find sad and at times repulsive. I don't know about all Singaporeans, but in the circles that I grew up in and among my friends, it is the rare Singaporean that is concerned with issues in society and things outside of their immediate view. It is a kind of apathy that I abhor, a willing ignorance or mayhap subconscious fear of the government and its actions. Politics and civil liberties are over their heads, not their business, and so they don't care about it. This I feel is the reason why we don't have political freedoms. Not because of government repression, but because of an instinctive fear and unwillingness to fight in the average Singaporean. Because we lack the will to fight for it, we lack the responsibility and maturity to have it and defend it and are unable to pressure the government into letting us have it.
Yet despite all these intellectual concerns, I don't think I will leave Singapore. In the end, it is my homeland. It is the place where I grew up, where my heart is. America is big, and free but it has its problems as well. Canada may be wonderfully tolerant, but too much liberty is bad as well. I still can't bring myself to abandon the culture I grew up in, the people I grew up with, the bonds I have, the ties I've forged. It is one thing to say "that country is more free, I think its better to live there", its another to say "I'm going to leave everything I know and love and go to where it's nicer". Another part of me rebels against emigration for another reason, the idea of patriotic duty. This may not have been the land of my forefathers or my ancient ancestors, but it is my land. I was born here, raised here, and I see its problems. Does that mean I take off and go to a place where there are less problems? Do I leave my home because its uncomfortable intellectually to stay? I guess it would be pompous of me to say no, but I still say no. I think that the right thing to do, would be to fight for it, though everyone else may not. To at least try to do what you feel is right. The author is right when he talks about the pressure of Singapore. The constant stress, the immense pressure to succeed, and the materialistic and ultimately worthless nature of that success. Its a problem, but instead of avoiding it, or running away from it, maybe we should try to change it.
I realize that the author's words may have merely been intended to justify the actions of those of us who have migrated. I don't think that it makes them any less human or justified. Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, thats what the creator endowed us with right? I guess I'm just too backward to admit that "Singapore is not a place where such dreams flourish". Too idealistic to admit that my efforts, probably won't amount to anything anyway. But I'll stay on, and do my best to live there anyway, because thats what I believe in.
She was crying. Droplets of steaming water rolled down her cheeks and drenched her collar. Her eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to stench the flow, but they would not stop. Her lips opened to wail, but curled into a snarl. "What is true love then! You say my love for you isn't true! WHAT IS TRUE LOVE THEN!" I turned away, unable to face her. How could I answer that, answer her. Why was it so hard to even lift my eyes from my feet. I was rooted, speechless, like a petrified tree. The silence was solid almost, like a huge pillow of immense pressure that filled the room and strangled me. Tension built up, like a host of ravening demons poised to swoop down and consume me at any moment, but I was cold inside, afraid. Ice gripped my heart and I was rendered useless by it, completely unable to face her......
Seconds passed, and as they went, each felt like an aeon. Then they were gone, and all hope for us was lost... forever......
Emotional, cliche, but, perhaps to the less skeptical, moving even. Then again I should just speak for myself I guess. Thats not the point, the point is that this is a familiar scene. There are hundreds of examples, from popular fiction, romance novels, Hollywood blockbusters...... It is a romantic nightmare, a blazing confrontation between lovers. The man, caught cheating on the woman perhaps, who then erupts into a jealous rage and demands an explanation. The viewer wonders why they just can't all get along and make up already so we can all go home (or if you're my 2nd brother then why script-writers come up with such stupid plots in the first place). Perhaps, the more well-known cliche is the Great Love Story. A passionate tale of a man and woman who fall inexplicably and uncontrollably in love with each other (They find ways to include this in movies on just about anything). These passions have done everything from cause the ruin of kingdoms to absolutely nothing and have been a staple of popular fiction since popular fiction existed (regardless of how ludicrous the story is).
The thing is, that I've been affected tremendously by it. The cliche's, the absurdly ideal situations. It reflects itself in my writing, my poetry, my wishes and dreams. It prevades, sometimes every fiber of my being, appearing suddenly in the deepest recesses of my mind. It scares the shit out of me sometimes. And other times, I accept it, want it, yearn for it even, and that scares me all the more. They are dangerous because they can blind us to reality, make us yearn for the impossible, believe in what cannot be. It isn't confined to love either. Just about every fictional work in the world is romanticised in one way or another. JRR Tolkien refrained from calling LOTR a novel, as he felt it was a heroic tale, a romance. Stories like "Dune" and "The Chronicles of Narnia" are works of genius, but don't even take place in our world. A perhaps more apt example is Japanese Anime and Manga. Most anime characters are impossibly perfect physically. Almost every guy is a prettyboy and almost every girl is ludicrously cute. They go about their business in impossibly surreal and ideal plots and situations (being demon-like fighters who are undefeatable or having byzantine love triangles). They are grand, wonderful adventures that never go wrong and always turn out happy. Whos characters always have the perfect mix of flaws and virtues (You know the kind who will always end up with the girl). We are upset at them when they don't, say that they aren't good if they don't give a satisfactory ending. We are spoiled by the feel-good films and the 'Greatest Romances of All Time'. So much so that sometimes we can't look life in the eye anymore. It has become to painful to realize our own mortality and reality. If that isn't scary, I don't know what is.
Inside, I know my wishes can't be fulfilled. My longing for a 'happily ever after' is perhaps not to be. I have doubts in myself, doubts in my character. Belief overwhelms me and then abandons me in the twitch of an eye. I am confused, unsure of what to believe in, and seeking for the truth. Yet, sometimes I don't find it, and am left in a lonely place. The worries of the world come knocking at my door while I am consumed with the worries of the mind. I am troubled. It would be wonderful if things could be so beautiful, and sometimes I wonder......
Maybe I just think too much : P
(In hindsight, that piece of writing was a bad example of what I was talking about. Refer to earlier cornier and cheesier works on this blog for better examples.)
I've been doing some thinking (not that I don't do this all the time normally anyway), but through the course of conversations with several of you over msn, I realise that by-and-large, the general consensus among my friends back home is that I'm generally slacking, having a good time and basically enjoying myself while everyone is working their butts off back home. This is not true.
This post is therefore here to clarify this very important issue. So as to be as completely counter-intuitive (and by extension as annoying) as possible, I will first deal with the accusations which are true, and will then proceed to list said accusations, before finally dealing with what I actually have been doing.
Firstly, it is true that I am spending more time (in school) out of the classroom than in it. This is not because I am lazy (although I am) but because that's simply the way college classes in the States are organized.
Secondly, it is true that I am basically happy and content with things as they are. This is not because I don't miss you guys, or home, or even (God forbid) the O'lvls. I do (exception of the last one). Its just that things are going well for me here and in the face of immediate blessing, long-term sadness is less glaring to me right now. The people here are nice too ya'know... Well, most of them anyway.
Lastly, it is true that I am happy that I got away from the O'lvls (I mean who wouldn't be?). I am profoundly regretful that I had to ditch 4D and all my friends and folks in Singapore to do it, but... I'll be back in June : P
Next section, I have been accused of: -skipping classes to talk to people on msn -being anti-social -ditching my class (4D) -abandoning my friends -while having a good time -being too happy while everyone else is working hard -not working hard -slacking off by taking a less demanding course -spending more time out of the classroom than in it -being too smart for my own good (whats with that?) -forgetting that Singapore exists -forgetting that my friends there exist -being cold and heartless -being a jerk in general -if you want your complaint listed here, dial 1800-112-65...(just kidding)
In defense of myself: I am not laughing at those of you who are back home. I sympathise profoundly with you and pray for you everyday! (well nearly everyday) My wishes and thoughts are with you almost constantly and I wish with all of my being for your success. If I come across as happy, joyful and maybe abit gleeful, it is only because I read a particularly funny joke on my Brother's blog (or somesuch thing like that) i.e. Not my fault!
Also, its a subjective matter, whether or not I am smart, so thats not valid grounds to attack me : P
Furthermore, during the first two weeks of coming here, I was VERY VERY SAD. I was devastated with homesickness, come on, if you've been reading this blog you should see that! I expected more of you. : / If you're not convinced, dig up the August and September archives (ok so maybe I wasn't devastated, but I really did miss you guys)
I just wanna say that I miss you guys, (I still take out all the cards you guys gave me and read through all of them every now and then. See, I do care!)
What I actually have been doing is probably very different from your mental images. So let me dispel them! I have been going to church regularly, to John Piper's church. It's Bethlehem something something, and I go to it! I've involved myself with International Student's Organisation and Intervarsity Christian Fellowship and attend their meetings on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights regularly! (see! Not Anti-Social!)
I have also been busy with work. While I don't have to spend time in class, I have to read tons of books for class, write responses to said books, and at the same time, figure out what I'm going to write for my various '2 gabazillion words end-term essays'. Here's a list of books I'll need to finish before November: Jesus, the Jew - Vermes Jews in the Time of Jesus - Wylen Huckleberry Finn - Twain Bartleby the Scrivener - Melville ATOM: Journey Across The Subatomic Cosmos - Asimov The Complete Stories - Asimov Caves of Steel - Asimov International Politics (the textbook) Not including all the articles and essays that I have to read and also all the books whose names I couldn't remember. In addition to at least 20 other books depending on what topics I finally decide on for my aforementioned '2 gabizillion words papers'.
So I am busy here too ok! (Heck I just spent time writing this when I have an undone reading assignment for tmr. You think being college student so easy ah? #$@#$@$@^%!&^$%@!&*@^%$^%@&!)
Memory: The pleasant autumn wind blew gently, tugging at her hair like a playful child. Her scent carried in the breeze, filling me with a serene sense of peace. The golden sunlight danced around her figure, illuminating it with a orange glow, the aura of an angel. She swirls around, arms outstretched, whirling in the raining leaves, all golden brown. I catch sight of her eyes, they are smiling, with a joy that came from her soul. I smile at her, and hope it will never end......
Memory: A laugh flows in from across the beach. I turn from the majesty of the waves to the splendour of her face, reddened with exertion. She's saying something, but I can't hear it. All I can do is be amazed, enraptured in wonder at this marvel of creation. Like the giant waves of the ocean my heart swells to see her. "I'm in love" the thought comes...... Panic, confusion and doubt suddenly surge through my mind, but only for a moment. Then she smiles at me, and the overwhelming tide of her joy and life sweep everything aside until all I am left with is that single most disarming emotion, giddy happiness......
Memory: Smoke is everywhere, all is black and hot and smoky. I am on the ground, but my mind is somewhere far off. My body rubs its eyes and pushes itself upward. It reaches out wildly for some form of purchase and finds it in a bent street lamp. Staggering to my feet, I try to take a hold of my senses. I struggle to think, desperately trying to remember what just happened. Then my vision clears, I see the wreckage, the carnage. I remember, and I wish to God I hadn't......
Dream: I hear her laughter, her voice. The song of her soul plays across my mind. The touch of her hand, the scent of her breath, the sight of her face. A cold hall stretches forth in the eye of my mind. She stands, back toward me at the end. I reach for her, straining. I start running, with all my might, I reach forward, but the distance does not close. She turns and smiles, and waves, slowly... almost mournfully. The door behind her opens, a white light shines from beyond, possessing an unearthly quality... I strain further, trying to shout a warning, a declaration, a plea... But my mouth is dry, my lips are chapped, no words come out, no sound is heard. The silence thickens untill all I hear is the beating of my heart, the pang of its pain and the keening lament of my soul... The light envelops her, consumes her... I glimpse her hand one last time, then darkness. The door is closed, and it will never open, again......
