Methinks a great many things methinks a great lot about small coiled springs and great black spots
Melikes to think of poetry and prose so fair of gallant chivalry and dazzling dares
Mewonders about the sky and the golden sun it hangs there so high does it have any fun?
Methinks a great many things with little reason but much rhyme these words were a pleasant swing a way to pass the time
mhmmm, that took like, five minutes.
-NEWSFLASH- In other news, Jeremy was annoyed that folks like Jacq and Issac apparently took down their blogs. He liked acting smart on said websites and said he missed the oppurtunity to do so. He also asserted that they should have much more free time than he does and thus have no justification for shutting down their blogs. -We now bring you back to your program, sorry for the interruption-
The great white moon was full that night. The people were dreaming, the cars all stood parked. Even the wind rustled not the leaves of the abundant trees, as if afraid to disturb the tranquility. All was still, and quiet, the creeping silence of the night. I lay stiffly in the bed. I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the great black ocean of my thoughts... silence. Slowly, like a lone white sailboat in a dark moonlit bay, an idle thought swam gently across the surface of my mind. It made gentle ripples, stirring up other dormant thoughts, a silent explosion of image and memory.
I recall a moment in the past, one so long ago that it seems yellowed even. I am younger then, so much younger, and smaller, and much more ignorant and immature. We are running, my friends and I, engaged in that joyous activity that almost every child the world over knows. We are playing tag. Its a serious business, with grim and high stakes. Its a zero sum game, with no middle ground, no quarter is given or taken, a fierce bloodsport. Its glorious victor, with all the jeering rights that entails, or devastated loser, at whom verbal tomatoes fly.
Faces come to mind, names blurred and fuzzy. We are running in the corridor of the school, warnings of the old and kindly cleaner heard but unregarded. At my side, is my comrade, we run in unison, away from the assigned catcher. Yet in our haste turning the corner, he trips and falls. The catcher grasps the oppurtunity with both hands and lunges forward, shoving my friend down as he attempts to recover. He is crushed against the floor, completely caught, defeated. The catcher-turned-runner picks himself up and escapes. Caught between helping and fleeing I hesitate, and then help my friend up, I recall his name, his words, saying softly,"thanks, you're the best friend I've ever had......"
For a moment, the game was forgotten, and we stood not as catcher or runner, but as two kindred beings expressing a moment of friendship and gratitude, a moment that went as quickly as it came.
Then we were off, running for our lives and for the glory of being the uncatchable...
I don't know where that boy is now, or whether he even remembers this. I don't even know whether I remember this, for we might not have been playing tag or running. But I remember helping him up, and remember his words, his thanks. At the time, those words were probably the nicest things that anyone had ever said to me, ever, and I was eternally grateful for them.
"An act of kindness is more than a point on a scoreboard, a word of kindness is more than a simple courtesy, don't treat them like they are."
With that last ligering thought, I laid back into my pillow, and drifted of into the realm of sleep......
“Music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work.” Or so the esteemed Lewis Thomson claimed. The 59th Street Bridge Song would appear to disagree with this, for it does not bother with explanations at all but sends a very clear message that seems obvious from its first line. The message ostensibly is this: “Slow down” and enjoy life, played to an easy, whimsical and calming tune. The later lines reiterate this, describing a dream-like state of idleness and well-being and ending with a benevolent “life I love you, always groovy”. These slogans from the swinging sixties sound perfectly reasonable. Yet what does ‘slowing down’ and ‘making the moment last’ really mean? We don’t need to be told to enjoy life and pursue happiness. The real question is how do we go about doing so? According to the 59th Street Bridge Song, the answer is by idling.
It would seem that, according to popular culture today, the exact opposite is true. According to Mario Andretti, a renowned race driver, “it's the determination and commitment to an unrelenting pursuit of your goal that will enable you to attain the success you seek”. John Lubbock is harsher, saying that “The idle man does not know what it is to enjoy rest, for he has not earned it.” Once admirably idle activities such as bantering, admiring scenery and staring at clouds have been labeled as “unproductive”. We have relegated them to the outhouses of our minds, and have denounced them as foolishness and idiocy. This is the legacy of the protestant work ethic. That every day of our life must wrung dry for every drop of efficiency and that idleness, as a rule, is at best useless, and at worse a dangerous sign of mental degeneracy. Idling is a thing to warn your child against, to shun and to repress.
Yet, despite conventional wisdom, and in defiance of ancient proverbs, there is a certain romanticism that has been attached to idleness. Although we achieve success through hard work, the reward we receive and indeed were striving for in the first place is idleness. This is similar to the dream of George and Lennie from John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men”. They work at ranches in the hope that eventually they will own their own farm where they will spend their days tending rabbits and “live offa the fatta the land”. This is the myth of the American Dream, that if you put in enough effort, and have enough determination, you can earn a big pile of cash and retire young to enjoy life and be idle. Our symbols of success and enjoyment: week-long cruises in the pacific, golfing trips in Ireland, sun-bathing in Hawaii and early retirement. We have idealized idleness as the ultimate reward of our efforts.
Yet this reward never really materializes. How many aging retirees really do spend their ‘Golden years’ in flower shirts on the beaches of California? How many multi-millionaire CEOs really make a fortune and then quit and head off to Honolulu for a martini? Witness the example of business legends like Carl Icahn and Warren Buffet who are still actively involved with their businesses in their seventies. Charles Simmons warns us that “it is only the constant exertion and working of our sensitive, intellectual, moral, and physical machinery that keep us from rusting, and so becoming useless.” Thus, not only is it unthinkable to pursue idleness without first becoming a success, even after we have succeeded idleness is beyond our grasp. For sure, there are the privileged and pampered few who do indeed enjoy the fruits of (often someone else’s) hard labor. Yet their rarity confirms the general trend. The song of idleness has been drowned out by the overwhelming yawn of politically correct society. We have traded irreverent freedom for the dogmatic and all-consuming yoke of Materialism.
Thus, idleness has been divorced from reality. We strive to succeed in order to be idle and in order to be successful, we must cast aside idleness. After achieving success however, we raise the bar even higher, and thus still cannot be idle. To quote Mark Slouka, “Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly, you gotta work like a dog ‘til you die”. There is no room for idleness in reality; the only place left for it is our mind.
This brings us to the crux of this essay: if idleness cannot survive in reality, it must take refuge in our dreams. These dreams express themselves in every medium known to man. Our movies, our fiction, our artwork, our poetry, all of them contain slivers of the idle spirit, cracks in the cave of capitalism. Books like “On the Road” and music from the Beatles all allow us small snatches of idleness and we treasure and revere these snatches. These patches numb us to the price of our eternal bustle. They pacify our hidden hopes and dreams and let us escape from the ‘big and nasty world’. They are our gateway into the idyllic matrix of idleness that exists only in our imagination. We know that superheroes don’t exist, we know that you need more than love to survive, and we know that life is not “always groovy”, but we indulge in the song, and because of that fleeting moment, can carry on living our lives. We attempt to capture the spirit of idleness and portray it, and these counterfeits give us the sustenance we need to maintain our lives without the respite of idleness.
Lewis Thomson was indeed mistaken when he said that “music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work.” Similarly, Simon and Garfunkel’s 59th Street Bridge Song is not an advertisement for the wonders of idleness. Music is not explanation or an argument; it is an indicator, and a symbol of our hidden dreams and yearnings. The real message behind the song is that “we want to be idle”. It’s a pity we only think being idle is a dream.
Everybody's heard this question before, "What do you wanna be when you grow up?". For a select lucky few of us, the answer is crystal clear. For the vast majority however, we have, at best, a vague idea, if not a complete blank. Its a big question, though the above version might not make it seem so. It ties in with all kinds of other big questions like, "Where should I go after A'levels?", "What do I really enjoy doing", "What do I wanna do with my life?" and "How much time do I wanna spend sleeping every day?". These are all important questions, and as is the usual case with these, the answers to them are, shall we say, tricky. More often than not, we put them off, procrastinating as much as we can until reality and circumstance force these ugly queries upon us.
After much deliberation however, I have, ahead of time, tried to fanthom out an answer to the first question. I have however, too many answers. So heres the list (in no particular order) of "What I wanna be when I grow up":
Business -Equity (Unlikely): (Investment, financing and stuff I guess) not really sure what it involves. However I figure its basically firms which invest in businesses and earn money when the business they invested in make money. (shrugs) its just a field of business I can see myself in. You can tell I'm not really sure what the job really entails. Moreover, I'm not particularly keen on business in the first place.
-Consultation Firm for Risk Analysis (Unlikely): I'd tell companies whether or not its a good idea to get into certain countries to do business. I think this'd be an okay job, but I'm inserting this one on the spur of the moment. It probably would be a dull job. (shrugs) Who knows?
Creative Arts -Musician for a Christian band (Dream Job): genre would deped on who I form it with but thats the idea, however unlikely it may be. I'd do either rhythm guitar/vocals or drums. (Mainly inspired by Beck)
-Film Director/ screenplay or script writer (Dream Job): I always thought stuff like that was cool. I have afew ideas swimming in my head for various plays and/or screenplays. I always inadvertedly start picturing scenes in an imaginary movie in my head when I hear certain pieces of music. I think it'd be an awesome job.
-Author of Fiction/Poetry (Possibility): This'd probably tie in with jobs in Academia. I'd probably be a prof of english or political science somewhere and write fiction (or academic papers, depending) in my free time. Hopefully, I'd become some super big shot writer and quit my teaching job to write full time. Meh, see how lah. Anyhow I have ideas for books too, which overlap the ideas for films and plays, I think though that I have to get better at writing first before I can carry out either.
-Film/Book critic (Unlikely): This would probably mean I have to major in Theater Arts or literature or something like that. I'm not sure I'm up for that, however, I'm up for the job I guess, though I probably wouldn't like it very much. I'd end up like Krishna I guess, doing a job only because it pays me. Bleagh.
Academia -Professor of Political Science specializing in the area of South East Asia (Possibility): I talked this one through with a prof of mine (he actually encouraged me to go into the business of accounting and auditing, sounds too boring to me however). We figured this was the area of political science that was the most likely to get me a job in the states.
-English Professor (Possibility): I'd probably teach writing skills classes for college freshmen and stuff like that, it'd probably tie in with the writing job above.
-Professor of Psychology specializing in the Psychology of linguistics (Unlikely): I dunno, this is just a field I'm really interested in. The psychology behind words and stuff, how langauge affects thought and how people in different cultures and countries react differently to different words. I guess it has some sociological connotations too. (I've also probably used the terms wrongly, but hey this is a blog, no one really cares)
-Professor of Philosophy specializing in the philosophy of Japanese Anime (Unlikely): Again, a field I think would be awesome. I also think the subject is deserving of study, and have thought alot alot alot about it. Seems like fun I think, but probably won't happen.
Other -A job in the Gahmen of Singapore (Unlikely): If my brother who has a degree in Psychology can get a job in the MFA, I'm sure a 20/22 year old graduate in Political Science/Econs can get one somewhere. Then again, I don't really know that, probably I'd have to go do graduate studies in some super big name university first. Oh well.
-Teacher/education critic (Unlikely): Another field/issue i'm deeply interested in/feel very strongly about.
-Volunteer Work (Unlikely): I could join the peace corp or the red cross or something, or go join a team of missionaries and spend my life doing that. Eventually, maybe I'd become a big shot director in some aid organization, wouldn't that be cool. Then again, I'm probably not cut out for that kinda stuff. (shrugs) who knows?
Most of these jobs involve me making pretty crazy decisions from here on, some of which will be rather irreversible. Again this is a tentative list, and there is a distinct possiblity that I will end up doing none of these things. Many of them involve me remaining in the states and possibly never returning to Singapore (that would be really sad). Anyhow, here are my interests, make of them what you will.
For those of you who have asked, guess what: My sister's PSLE score beat me, walao, she broke a Tan family trend. Here are her Grades: English: A* (Suprising for me, I expected her A* to be in Chinese) Math: A Science A Chinese: A Higher Chinese: Merit (Walao how can, my Sister is definitely better than that at Chinese!) Aggregate: 243 (4 points higher than me!) Not that it really matters anyway, I can use Singapore's flawed education system as an excuse!
I don't know since when I changed to such a cold-hearted guy I have to warm this frozen, icy, lonely heart to thaw I like being wrapped with warmness more than anything else for sure I'm gonna make my coming days to be filled with laughter and joy
I let myself down that I'm more cruel than I thought I would be I'm just a loser who ends up by caring for my soul I don't give my heart to no one cause I don't wanna waste my time I tried to love this loneliness to slip out of this lonesome hole
Sorrow is what I hate but it's grown my sensations Regrets taught me how to make any hard decisions Peace is always by my side but I've never felt it once Love is not the word only for a sweet romance
Well, I'm scared, scared, scared, scared to death And I'm scared to keep on going on my way Well, I'm scared, scared, scared, scared to death And I'll tell myself I'm special till the end
Recalling my torn, broken, aching heart of those long days And all the memories I wanted to forget for making leaps Recalling, breaking, aching, crying, making sure to me And I take all and grin at my future on the way
I know some people think I'm arrogant. I know sometimes I act the part too. I know that in a secret part of my mind, I like to think I'm better than everybody else, if only because I'm me. Yet theres another part of me that always wishes I was someone else, that always thinks that I'm a failure, a weakling, a coward. I sneer at overly social people, yet desire to be social myself. I look at anime cosplayers and Harry Potter fans as sad misguided souls enchanted with foolish escapist fantasies, yet often I consciously join their ranks in wishing that my life would play out like a manga from Shounen Jump Magazine. My entire of life I have been devoted to proving myself different from the everyone else, while simultaneously yearning to be a part of them.
Is that a contradiction? Am I romanticising my life needlessly?
My brother wrote once that, as a child, he thought he was the smartest boy in the world. How often have I thought the same? When I was a kid I didn't care much for thinking. I was enamoured with lego sets and toy cars and fighting with my little sister (who I love dearly). Somewhere along the line that changed. Apparently out of nowhere, dreams of greatness began popping up in my mind. Somehow, a sense of 'destiny' had been placed within my psyche. I was destined for great things, I was gonna be famous, I was gonna Change the World!
When did I begin thinking like that?
Was it when I watched Mission Impossible I for the first time? Did I want to be Tom Cruise? Maybe it was when I joined ELDDS, and everyone said that I had a really cool voice. Maybe not. Maybe it was the time I read a line from a website about giving a toast to all the troublemakers and revolutionaries in the world, because "the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do." The belief in the 'Big Man of History'.
Maybe it started the first time my Parents told me I was special. Then again, they told my siblings that too. All three of them. Which Parent doesn't tell their kids that?
The irony of it is that everyone in the world is unique, and because of that, no one really is. Sure, everybody is different, but nobody cares about those differences and will always lump people together into stereotypes and generalizations, whether they realize it or not. Here are afew common ones: The PMSing female teacher, the nagging and overly restrictive parent, the snotty, small-sized brat who's got a rich and powerful Dad in the ministry. We know these categories, we dump people in them all the time, and all the time, we give each other little indulgent winks and kid ourselves while we silently say "we're better than those sad losers".
How often do you think the snotty brat has done the same to you?
I know I've done it. Unconsciously, I classify people into three categories: One: the complete and utter idiot. I consciously avoid any contact with these folks because their very presence makes me feel awkward and vexed. I'd like to smash some sense into them but am to cowardly to openly scold them. They either piss me off or leave me cold, depending on mood. Two: the cool guy/ older brother figure. I gravitate towards them unconsciously, I try to impress them and think they're really cool. Unconsciously I mimic them, emulate them. Often they are people I've never met. They hold my unreserved respect and admiration and I am a naive idiot when I'm around them. I become the kind of person I would detest if I met. Three: the chum and buddy. I take it as a solemn duty to be extremely critical when they start thinking seriously. I am overjoyed when I can discuss things with them, like the meaning of life, the universe and everything. I jam with them, joke with them, let them try to run me over with a bicycle, crazy shit like that.
Often these three categories blur themselves in my mind and people move through them fluidly, yet the categories remain. The irony is I know the categories, I know that I use them, and I know such usage is bad (stereotyping is a big bad evil, up there with racism and sexism and plagiarism) yet I can't really stop myself (everyone's a hypocrit in one way or another). I am a sinner who knows his sins and yet does not repent, and I feel all the worse for it.
In hindsight, I spent all my life trying to mark myself out as different, while at the same time trying my hardest to find people I could identify myself with and talk to and reach mutual understanding with. I was the same as everyone else really. In hindsight, I didn't try very hard at all. I thought I was working with a purpose, when all I was was mired in my own confusion.
Where am I at now?
I've found that the perfect friend, the one who knows when you're down, and knows you like the back of his hand, and shares all your joys and pain, your thoughts and secrets, the proverbial best friend, doesn't exist. There simply isn't anyone that perfect out there. We humans are an imperfect lot, and there isn't much I can do about it. I'm no 'Big Man of History', the world will not remember the name of JEREMY TAN ZHIYI. Even if, by some fluke of change it does, that memory will be mistaken, distorted to the purposes of popular imagination and sensationalization. In the face of the inexorable movement of time, all human accomplishment would appear to be in vain.
Why bother at all? Can we change the world? Do we need to?
Maybe we don't. The world after all is an awfully big place (regardless of any idioms or cliche'd proverbs to the contrary). Maybe all I need to change are the people around me, and the places around me, my little piece of the world. Is that selfish? Is the opposite more selfish?
All I know is, I'll settle for doing what I can.
Just like the folks at COGC, who should be leaving in a few hours for Kupang, West Timor.
Hello says I, to the passing soul hello I say, it goes untold It goes on, walking not stopping into the light, golden and shining Why do I chase, I wonder slowly why can't I grasp it, this golden figure?
Wait says I, yet it passes by it passes on, onward to heaven
The glow of gold, and clouds of white the bright blessed day, and dark sacred night The place of song, the haven of dreams where God smiles on, all creation pleased From yonder I glance, heaven on high I want to follow, why can't I?
The siren song, of Earthly callings I am lulled by, its wretched tune
The dream of bliss, the wish of folly the dashing legend, the romantic story The glint of gold, the great last stand fame's great caress, from an unholy hand Simple lust, is turned to passion I want to believe it, abandon caution
The dark beast of sin, drags me by the heel my heel harms it not, heaven grows further still
When I left campus yesterday, I was thinking about the Praise Band and folks on campus and how cool they were and whatnot. Then it struck me that I had kinda gotten used to living here. I was in the 'land of the free', sure it bungled Iraq, threatened immigrants and has a pretty arrogant view of its place in the world but hey, its still the dream country of many people all around the world. I'm lucky to be here... right? I've been living here for around 2 and a half months now, my world hasn't fallen apart, I've made new friends, joined Christian fellowships. I'm getting decent grades and I'm eating fairly well (food in S'pore still better). Yet, when that thought came to my mind, somewhere whithin me, an alarm began to ring. Was I forgetting my roots? Was I forgetting what it meant to be Chinese, what it meant to sweat on a hot tropical day, what it meant to be Singaporean? What did that even mean? Is that even something that can be defined? Questions, queries and no answers.
When I got back home, we (me + the folks I'm staying with) went over to the Italian restaurant across the road for dinner. We sat down, it was a pleasant restaurant, but next to us sat this gang of (probably) High School teenage Bimbo's. They went on and on talking about completely inane subjects like makeup and what kind of boys they want in their classes and the like. That was strike one for America on my scoreboard. Thankfully, the pasta came and I ate it with the intensity of one determined to avoid becoming dumber (Ok so I'm exaggerating, its not like I couldn't stand them or hated them or anything, they were just mildly annoying).
Anyhow, they left while we were halfway through our meal and it was better after that. We talked about NS and what I would have to do when I came back for it. It would suffice to say that the result was strike one for Singapore. As we stepped outside, the wind gusted. It was bearable, and I enjoy being in cool temperatures every now and then, but Minnesotan weather is something else entirely. Strike two for America.
I came back home with Youwei and Seb on my mind. I remembered the time I spent jamming with the folks back home, and missed it. I thought about the bet I made with Luke, and how I was gonna fulfil it, just thinking about it made me kinda sad. I sat at my desk and took out the photos of home and school I had brought with me. I read the cards my friends had given me before I had left. I looked at the glass of wax, and the stuffed debate team, the memories playing in my mind's cinema. Strike three for America, I wanted to go home.
I dreamt that night of home, of Fairfield and anime and COGC, of Clarence and Sherman, Yunxing and Cheryl (and their respective gangs), of Jeanette and Pastor, Seb, Youwei and Char. I woke up with a pang, a pang of acute sadness.
And they told me I'd enjoy it here......
I realize that I've changed. I'm somewhat less sure of myself now. Less certain of what lies ahead, like I've finally come to the exit of the cave and can suddenly see the whole wide world before me. I wonder what I will do with my life. I wonder who I am and who I want to be. I realize that, all of a sudden, asian music is pretty cool, anime is better than lost, english music ain't all that and that chopsticks and chinese food are infinitely cooler than american cooking. Worries of race and ethnicity bother me less now for some reason, because I am without a doubt 100% Asian! Funny how being in a foreign country makes you feel about race. I see now that mayhap my newly acquired and almost obsessive like of Chinese and Japanese Music and Language is probably because I'm in America. Am I clinging to my roots? Am I discovering them? Oh the irony. I once thought I was an englishman because I spoke english, now I don't know what to think anymore. All I've learnt is a kind of sophisticated confusion; a Big "I DON'T KNOW". Is this really for the better? There is one thing I'm sure of, I want to live my dream, to grasp that which cannot be grasped, to for a certainty that which mankind has struggled with for millenia, to achieve that single most fundamental and joyous state.
Now if only I can figure out what the hell that is......
-How do you teach people to be mature? It can't be done! Maturity cannot be taught like physics.
-My major is Undecided! How many bl**dy times do I have to tell you that!
-I don't like homework on weekends, but then I don't like it period, ah redundancy!
-The problem with the way Clarence thinks and views the world is he looks at everything the way he thinks it should be, not the way it is. As a result, he is often wrong.
-It is pleasant when the sun is shining and the breeze is light to sit on the sun porch and drink orange juice.
-The linguistic prescriptivists (or whatever they call themselves) were right about something after all. (See Tense Present by David Foster Wallace)
-Milk and butter taste good in egg.
-The praise band should do Covers of Mongolian Chop Squad songs
-I wish I was Koyuki, then again I wish alot of stupid things from time to time.
-Mongolian Chop Squad is cool.
-I'm addicted to VideoCrack, or as the rest of the world knows it, Youtube.
-I watch too much anime
-I watched all that anime and still got 2As an A- and a B+ for midterms.
-Music is cool, it should make the world go round
-I need to get better at music
-I changed my mind Sherman, my dream instrument is now a yellow telecaster Electric Guitar with the word 'Beck' in Gold on the case or something. (I still like acoustic guitars though) Either that or a really swanky black drum set with all the appropriate clashes and tomes and whatnot.
-I wanna start a band now, we can do covers of WW1 songs and stuff
-Mangas I want to read: Rurouni Kenshin, Beck, GTO, Flame of Recca, Samurai Champloo and others
-I know the folks back home like it when I post pictures, but I just can't really be bothered to take any.
-I have weird dreams
-I don't like doing laundry much
-Cooking on the other hand is a different story
-We should have a big party at Youwei's when me and Jeanette get back
-Dad got a car, its cool, but I'm still not learning to drive yet :P
Follow me Baby, I won't let you leave if you believe in me And I always set you free from all those yesteryears But you don't know how much I got believe in you
I was staring at your shoulder shivering In such a coldest summer breeze Meanwhile I wonder why we're here Look for the line between love and friends We'll be twisting ourselves again
I was standing at the corner on the street Watching the wheels are turning free Waiting to back up on my feet Reading a line between night and day I'll be twisting myself again
I walked in darkness from the library to the bus stop. The sky was clear, the breeze gentle. The air was fresh and smelt like... like autumn. The theme song from the Beautiful Life played in my ear. Then it came, the song reached its climax, and a gust of wind came howling through the trees, almost like a response, like nature was singing along... Thats the kind of moment people dream of, when all seems right in the world, when nature harmonises music. A moment of breathtaking beauty.
I was on youtube yesterday and I remembered this song. My 2nd brother introduced it to me, around the time when he still did that kinda thing, saying something like "I think you'll like this song". I remember it now, he never really introduced things to me because he liked them. He always did so because he thought I'd like em, which is probably something that never came to my mind when he was doing it, or when I was trying to introduce a song I thought was cool to him.
This is a really cool song, and I think you guys will like it :P
Everybody thinks they understand what maturity is. We all have a vague idea of what its like: not resorting to violence, using diplomacy and negotiation, heading for a 'win win' situation. Yet the 'substance' of maturity is something thats hard to pin down. What is maturity exactly? Its having your priorities straight, its knowing that you should do unto others what you would have others do unto you, but what is it exactly? A wise man once said that the World is full of the sinners who think themselves righteous and the righteous who think themselves sinners. But can maturity be described in the same way? How does one describe maturity, or harder still, how does it feel to be mature?
Most people have a rough sense or inner gauge of maturity which they use to judge themselves and others. Yet, it's not a quantitative thing. One cannot stockpile maturity, or accumulate it. There is no such thing as maturity points or I'm more mature than you are!. Its almost like an immeasurable.
Yet its not really qualitative either. There isn't a point one reaches in life that marks someones 'maturation'. Its not like you hit 12 midnight on your 21st birthday and suddenly tada, you're mature. At the risk of sounding like a parrot, maturity never really stops. There is no end to it. We are all on a journey of maturation on the great road of life.
Everyone thinks they have some semblance of maturity. At the very least, they're more mature than they were in kindergarten, right? We think we know better, think better, are more justified, have more reasons. How often have we looked back into our pasts and laughed at the follies of our old selves? Too often we have done so only to age a little more and laugh at what not so long ago was perfectly normal to us. Aging gives us the wisdom of hindsight that is renewed with the passing of every second. It stops only in death.
Everyone thinks they have the answers, but they really don't. There's only one guy in the Universe who has them and he's been talking to us. Have we been listening? We think we're the masters of the universe, the greatest of God's creation, that we know everything! How much do we know really?
I've got a 3-6 page research paper due on Tuesday. I've realized that my thesis is untenable and that it is simply too vast a topic to cover (fundamental logical flaws aside). I've got a wealth of information but no thesis to put it into. Pillars are crumbling around me. Writing the paper is the last thing on Earth I want to be doing (bar dying, being stricken with disease, sitting for major exams, and/or cleaning toilets in various 3rd world countries, you know all that nasty stuff). Oh the tyranny of procrastination!
Meh, I'll do like, a page and a half and do the rest after class tomorrow. Wish me luck :P
As a sidenote, I realize that the O'levels proper have already started for some of my friends and that this comes late. Oh well, heres wishing you guys the best of luck and divine goodwill. Hope you guys all get less than 8 points! (If you're more ambitious than that go find someone else to wish for you)
It was an everyday occurrence, a trifle. My mother was meeting someone in the office sections of the building opposite Plaza Singapura. I was much smaller then, and had to tag along since there was no one at home to take care of me (or at least I think that was the reason, its been awhile now). We rush into the mall, my Mom asks for directions and gets them. We get into the elevator, a daughter and mother follow us in and the door closes. There we are, mother and child on either side of the elevator, not a word spoken between us. I looks at the girl, she looks back. We're probably around the same age, both of us tagging along on our mother's errands. Somewhat unconsciously, we smile at each other. It is a strange thing, the connection one can feel with an absolute stranger.
The lift stops and the door opens, mother and daughter exit. She leaves my life, never to enter it again. Yet, I find myself wondering. Might we have been friends? Would we have been more than just passersby in each other's life? Who's to know? Its another what-if of life, an insoluble problem, and all I can do, is wonder......
I had a weird dream the other day. I dreamt that I returned to Nanyang primary to start a christian debate team. I get all my debate friends from schools all over Singapore and also meet up with primary school buddies I haven't seen since PSLE. The debate team is kickass and gets a huge following and I start making fun of my old buddies because they are dressed in really outlandish clothes. Then I wake up.
