Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Mapping out one's life
"In my time, we had no idea really about what was required of us. Nobody was particularly ambitious, the 4Cs were not a part of our vocabulary, we didn't get too worked up and we didn't over-plan our lives. (words in bold my emphasis)
"Nowadays, when i interview students applying for scholarships, i am constantly struck by how they have mapped out their lives. They are so focused and results-oriented that i find it difficult to identify potential leaders. Everyone is so accomplished and has the same CV."
- Prof Pang, NUS 100 Years Young, Sunday Times 25 June, 2005
Of course Prof Pang is talking about those academically accomplished youths of my generation who, notwithstanding their exceptional intelligence, have unfailingly impressed him with their determined focus in their studies and above all in their lives. His observation could well be extended to a larger group of people, those who perhaps are just as successful and smart but who didn't get a scholarship, either by choice or otherwise. I know - because, more often than not, i frequently come across such people who impress me with their admirable clarity of vision of what they want not just presently, but many years down the road. An ex-classmate of mine belongs to this category: he is holding an SAF scholarship; knows what he wants to achieve from his undergraduate years; is working furiously and focusedly for it; and he also knows when he wants to get married, have kids, retire - and god knows what after that.
The experts are probably right that people who are successful in life have a purposeful focus in their life; these people know what they want, they identify goals and work hard towards achieving them. Which is why whenever one attends seminars or workshops that have anything remotely to do with self-improvement or being successful in life, one can be sure that the aforementioned axiom will be referred to in one way or another. It may therefore not be preposterous that Life can be likened to some sort of equation, where Success/Happiness/Self-fufillment equals Goals + Appropriate means of pursuit + Certain Necessary traits such as peserverance and dilligence. For surely there are some broad commonalities that successful people share, and therein lies the secret formula to success in life which people yearn to acquire and others gladly dish out in various disguises while making a few big bucks out of it. Intelligence alone does not guarantee you a ticket to a successful career or life; neither does a lack of it means the doors of success in life are closed to you. What's more important, it seems, is to know what you want and make plans on how you want to go about realising it. These seeming axioms are perhaps to be believed, for this is at least what Prof Pang, who has interviewed many a bright mind for some time perhaps, revealed in his statement about the characteristics of some people amongst us - people who are destined for greater things in life, like getting a scholarship, having an enviable career, attaining financial wealth, social status etc.
I am none of the above, have attained none of those 'greater things in life' - yet - and just might never get close enough to any of them in the near and far future. Yet you may still accuse me of so disappointingly exhibiting such narrow-minded views of yardsticks of success. Have i not, after all, been swept by Prof Pang's remark and talked only about academic success and the 4Cs that he spoke of? Indeed i alluded to these as part of the symbols of success, along with the more general success of achieving what one wants in his or her individual life. But this wasn't what prompted me to write this piece.
It was Prof Pang's reminiscence of his time and his observation of today's students (undergraduates) that caught my attention. That struck a chord because for a moment, i thought (or wished) i ought to belong to his generation. He did at least painted what seem to me a picture of an idyllic student's life, as compared to the frenectic goal-oriented world i am unmistakably immersed within today. Prof Pang said thus: "...we didn't get too worked up and we didn't over-plan our lives."
Tell me he is exaggerating when he suggested that my peers over-plan their lives. But he who has done many interviews surely must be speaking from what he has seen, heard and observed. It can't be too far from the truth, especially when my own experiences match his observation. Earlier I talked about what seems like the formula to attaining success because this much can be inferred from Prof Pang's remarks. At the very least, those people who get scholarship or remarkable grades, or who later succeed in living their ideal lives - they seem to adhere to the rough formula that has been suggested here, implying a certain desirable route to the pathways of success.
These people scare me. These people, who 'have mapped out their lives', who 'are so focused and results oriented', make me embarrassed, guilty, ashamed and worried - a gamut of emotions that have me pondering over my somewhat under-planned life each time i read or hear about them. More than evoking feelings of envy or jealousy, they are an antithetical reflection of my seeming lack of aspirations and underachievement. I haven't thought so far, and while i marvel at how some people seem so confident and optimistic and certain of their future, of what they want to achieve, i have doubts about how far 'planning' for your life is ideal or possible. I have more question marks and uncertainties swirling in my mind than plans and answers. Planning and knowing what one wants certainly provides direction in one's life, and everyone needs a direction to lead them. But i am not directionless even as i am unsure what my next step in life should be and what i ultimately want for myself. The frailty of life is such that there are innumerable others who had had their lives terminated abruptly, their dreams and plans consequently extinguished. Planning too far, and too much, may not always be of use.
However i do believe that what will come, will come. Plan or without plan, one's life is laying out and being lived out every conscious minute that passes. Before you know it, you are not living according to your plans, but living a life whose every detail is what you are destined to play out.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
movie tag
Now for this very overdue post, which owes its existence to footloose and fancy free, who was tagged by jodecro
In short, i was tagged by someone who was tagged by someone else. Never mind that i hardly know what tagged is, never mind that i am tagged the first time.
number of films i own on VCD/DVD
if this means the number of VCDs/DVDs that i have bought myself, then it's a grand total of one. Not some unforgettable classic or oscar-winning film. Just a film about a superhero: Spiderman. I caught the show in a cinema in Taiwan when the film was first released. One year on, when the DVD came out, i reckoned i like the action-flick enough to want to buy it and watch again.
last film i bought
that has to be Spiderman, of course.
last film i watched
Before sunset. Watched it on a DVD i borrowed from a friend. A review i read says that, this is one of those movies, you either love, or you hate. Not quite true, judging from my personal response to the film. I certainly don't hate the show - in fact, if you hate the show, that's because you've failed to be engaged by its essence, conveyed through dialogue that is deep with introspective contemplation and charm. Ironically, i can't say what the essence is, because i think it is what each individual takes away from the film. I like it because the actors could engage me with their portrayal of their characters; because the characters speak amidst a beautiful and serene setting; and because there is a sense of realness conveyed by the subjects of their conversation. But i don't love it to the extent that i have absolute praise for it, mainly because i get distracted and tired from following the continuous train of thoughts.
5 films that mean a lot to me
now i am not one of those who keep track of what movies i've watched. neither do i have a conscious list of movies that i would put under 'my fav' heading. So this is a little tricky here. Nonetheless, i have given some thought about it. Bizarre choices, perhaps, but read on for my explanation.
In short, i was tagged by someone who was tagged by someone else. Never mind that i hardly know what tagged is, never mind that i am tagged the first time.
number of films i own on VCD/DVD
if this means the number of VCDs/DVDs that i have bought myself, then it's a grand total of one. Not some unforgettable classic or oscar-winning film. Just a film about a superhero: Spiderman. I caught the show in a cinema in Taiwan when the film was first released. One year on, when the DVD came out, i reckoned i like the action-flick enough to want to buy it and watch again.
last film i bought
that has to be Spiderman, of course.
last film i watched
Before sunset. Watched it on a DVD i borrowed from a friend. A review i read says that, this is one of those movies, you either love, or you hate. Not quite true, judging from my personal response to the film. I certainly don't hate the show - in fact, if you hate the show, that's because you've failed to be engaged by its essence, conveyed through dialogue that is deep with introspective contemplation and charm. Ironically, i can't say what the essence is, because i think it is what each individual takes away from the film. I like it because the actors could engage me with their portrayal of their characters; because the characters speak amidst a beautiful and serene setting; and because there is a sense of realness conveyed by the subjects of their conversation. But i don't love it to the extent that i have absolute praise for it, mainly because i get distracted and tired from following the continuous train of thoughts.
5 films that mean a lot to me
now i am not one of those who keep track of what movies i've watched. neither do i have a conscious list of movies that i would put under 'my fav' heading. So this is a little tricky here. Nonetheless, i have given some thought about it. Bizarre choices, perhaps, but read on for my explanation.
- Spiderman/X-men: yes, the first has a superhero, the second does not. Yes, i am greedy and i can't settle on just one, so i've decided i shall put both. I like Spiderman, that's why i bought the film. Maybe it's a guy thing; i like to be transported away to the fictional world of superaction-heroes who possess super powers. I like the world of superheroes where evil and good seem to have a clear boundary. Above all, i like the breathtakingly spectacular effects that indulge my imagination.
- Fong Sai-Yuk (aka Fang Shi yu): 'fast action movie in period costume.' If i can't be in the superhero world with superpowers, let me become a chivalrous pugilist who has unrivalled martial arts skills, a reluctant master of coveted deadly skills passed to him by master pugilists. I love Jet Li and the veteran Xiao Fang-Fang in the movie. They make executing difficult martial art skills look so easy. I can't count the number of times i've watched the film on tv and i don't tire of watching them. Martial arts genre movies like this always have me in awe of their beauty.
- The Barbarian Invasions: A french-Canadian production with French dialogue about a dying man who faces his mortality. I don't think there's an underlying message. The beauty of such a great film lies in the honesty with its portrayal of human relationships and reality. Somehow, watching a film in a foreign language ironically engages me. Nuances may be lost in translation but the acting does not change, and it is from there that you appreciate the film and all the beauty that it carries. I like this film because the conversations between them are candid and poignant. The characters are as fallible as you can get in real life. A real gem.
- Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind: though watching the film halfway i got a little confused, i got hold of the plot soon enough to appreciate its bizarreness and ingenuity. Life's such a paradox where our memories are concerned, and i thought the film kind of depicted that. We are who we are because of the memories we hold, which are constantly in the making; memory is what our identity rests upon. It is precisely this that our memories, good or bad, plauge us and are the cause of our miseries. Hence our desire to expunge the unpleasant memories. This is a refreshing film that is, er, weird, but totally provovative, in a good sense.
- You've Got Mail: ok, i have to confess i am putting this on the list in part because i can't think of something else. I like Kill Bill but i think i would rather put You've Got Mail down. Love the New York setting. Love the soundtrack of the movie that blends in with the mood and the setting. Love the gorgeous Meg Ryan in the show. Love the charming bookstore that she works in.
Marina Square? - Not Quite
If the name of a place is only as recognizable as, and distinguished by, its contents, then surely when the latter changes the name would cease to hold any meaning. And when the changes to the place are completely and pervasive, leaving the name the only noticeable thing that remains unchanged, perhaps the name of the place ought also to be replaced. For a name is significant in so far as its contents conjure up certain images that are associated with it. How can the same images possibly be imagined when everything about the place has been stripped bare of its former appearance and substance? Like a person who has undergone a major plastic surgery and given a makeover but who retains the same name, the name loses its erstwhile meaning - it is an incongruous match with its new appearance. That was the impression formed when i visited Marina Square yesterday.
Marina Square today is simply unrecognizable. (When one says that one is comparing with what it formerly looked like; if Marina Square is no longer called Marina Square, all these thoughts wouldn't even have come about in the first place because there wouldn't be any basis for comparsion.) When i walked into Marina Square through the link from Suntec City, almost instantaneously i felt coldly unfamiliar and alienated: it wasn't Metro, the department store, that greeted me - i didn't, for once, have to walk past the lingerie section having to shut the colourful displays of brassieres and panties out of my vision; the air-conditioning felt and smelled decidedly new; and the shops that were within immediate sighting looked unfamiliar and rather empty, though the latter fact didn't seem to bother the staff the least bit.
I slowed down my pace a little to give myself more time to take in the alien surroundings - though it could well be that the alien surroundings drew me to slow down my pace so as to take a clear notice of them. Either I have not been here for a long time or that the contractors renovating the place must have been dilligently working round the clock for the past year. I was simply amazed that yet another seemingly new shopping centre has sprung alive in fast-paced changing Singapore, where the city centre is in endless reconstruction, and everything seems as young as the nation's modern history. Not so far from this shopping centre, the new National Library - devoid of its former character and history - will open in a month's time, i think, taking its pride of place next to the rather awful architectural exterior of the nation's third university. All in all, this second downtown area seems ready to burst anew with young buildings interspersed with older ones.
As i walked further into the shopping mall, the images that my eyes saw and registered in my congested mind competed with others that were stored in my memory but which are no longer visible. Where once walking through the mall means walking along a long stretch with neat rows of shops at its flanks, now it has become a less straightforward task, though admittedly this has to do with the fact that it was my first time setting afoot at the new Marina Square. Plenty of eateries and restaurants abound, most of which were desolate. (It is the after-lunch-before-dinner time, i was quick to inform myself.) It was only later that i foolishly realised i was probably at the 'food section' of the mall. A good mega retail space - the rest of Marina Square - is still in the midst of renovation. This made me wonder what greater surprises (read: distortions) await to be seen.
Many of the restaruants, i did not recongnise or know. Then again, Marina Square was seldom the choice of dinning in the past. Walking on, it was curiousity to find out just how much has changed that made me exploring every corner and alley, rather than interest to know what exciting new shops can be found in the spanking new mall. A lot of apparel shops, i guess, are located at the part of the mall that is not finished with renovation yet. Even so, already there are the few standard shops that reminded one that this mall, after all, is going to be yet another one of the dozens of malls around: Giant supermarket sits at the second level, while Swensens, Starbucks, Coffee Club - even that Pure Milk - are amongst the familiar shops around. So much is new, yet so much is also not.
Having satisfied myself that nothing is worth more than a cursory glance, i decided it was time to leave. That was when i realised i actually experienced difficulties in finding the right way out. I was not lost: the word to describe my state is that post-modernist appropriation, 'disoriented'. What else can one expect from a shopping mall that is half in operation, half in renovation, where one exit is never quite the exit that would lead you out to the right side? It was thus no coincidence that not once or twice but a couple of times that i came across shoppers who carried the disoriented look, who walked down a corridor only to turn back at the end. I felt an improbable sense of union established amongst us disoriented souls at that moment. Secretly, however, i heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that i am not the last mortal to set foot on this revamped mall. As the search for that elusive exit continued, i thought of how simple and unconfused Marina Square was before. But such thoughts are futile: Marina Square has been irreversibly altered.
There is no need for panic however. Dizzying though the layout of the mall might be to the first-time partron of the mall, there is nevertheless - thankfully! - the floor-plan/map available in every mall to assist the disoriented shopper: it speaks a reassuring universal language that even an idiot would be able to decipher; and it is his answer to getting out of the living hell that he inevitably would realise had him entrapped in. But just before i returned to the outside world, two new unexpected discoveries were made. First: a new fast food restaruant, Carl's Jr., is located at a corner away from the other eating places. Ah ha, this place finally has something new to offer; thank you, we can do with one less Macdonald's at this shopping mall, though the truth is that Macdonald's will probably be located at the other part of the mall that is still currently under renovation.
The second has something to do with the male toilet. If you are imagining something indecent, it is not. It is just that this was the first time i've visited a male washroom where a mirror takes the place of the wall that is usually above the urinals. Maybe this is not something uncommon. But, mind you, opposite the urinals are the washbasins, and, above them, more mirrors. Everyone understands the principle of reflection, and if you can now imagine what i have described, the implication is this: whether you are washing your hands or pissing at the urinal, you have quite a clear view of the entire toilet, except, of course, the private cubicles. It escapes me why the designer of the toilet deems it necessary or perhaps creative to have a mirror replace the wall above the row of urinals. There's no need to give a description on how we men go about relieving ourselves; suffice to say that it feels awkward seeing your reflection in the mirror and your surroundings as you quietly go about your business.
It wasn't until after a long walk around the mall that i finally saw the prominent esplanade mall across the road. I was out of the mall, away from the beguiling array of shops that invariably surrounded me as long as i was inside the mall.
The Marina Square that i think of will continue to be the familiar one that remains etched in my memory, not the present one. No shopping mall is ever in a static state; changes will always be the norm. But while tenants come and go like the mall's visiting shoppers, such changes are not usually massive and bold like those which happened to Marina Square. Retaining the same name does not retain its identity. It may take many more years down the road when new memories of the place replace older ones before the 'Marina Square' to me truly looks what it is.
Marina Square today is simply unrecognizable. (When one says that one is comparing with what it formerly looked like; if Marina Square is no longer called Marina Square, all these thoughts wouldn't even have come about in the first place because there wouldn't be any basis for comparsion.) When i walked into Marina Square through the link from Suntec City, almost instantaneously i felt coldly unfamiliar and alienated: it wasn't Metro, the department store, that greeted me - i didn't, for once, have to walk past the lingerie section having to shut the colourful displays of brassieres and panties out of my vision; the air-conditioning felt and smelled decidedly new; and the shops that were within immediate sighting looked unfamiliar and rather empty, though the latter fact didn't seem to bother the staff the least bit.
I slowed down my pace a little to give myself more time to take in the alien surroundings - though it could well be that the alien surroundings drew me to slow down my pace so as to take a clear notice of them. Either I have not been here for a long time or that the contractors renovating the place must have been dilligently working round the clock for the past year. I was simply amazed that yet another seemingly new shopping centre has sprung alive in fast-paced changing Singapore, where the city centre is in endless reconstruction, and everything seems as young as the nation's modern history. Not so far from this shopping centre, the new National Library - devoid of its former character and history - will open in a month's time, i think, taking its pride of place next to the rather awful architectural exterior of the nation's third university. All in all, this second downtown area seems ready to burst anew with young buildings interspersed with older ones.
As i walked further into the shopping mall, the images that my eyes saw and registered in my congested mind competed with others that were stored in my memory but which are no longer visible. Where once walking through the mall means walking along a long stretch with neat rows of shops at its flanks, now it has become a less straightforward task, though admittedly this has to do with the fact that it was my first time setting afoot at the new Marina Square. Plenty of eateries and restaurants abound, most of which were desolate. (It is the after-lunch-before-dinner time, i was quick to inform myself.) It was only later that i foolishly realised i was probably at the 'food section' of the mall. A good mega retail space - the rest of Marina Square - is still in the midst of renovation. This made me wonder what greater surprises (read: distortions) await to be seen.
Many of the restaruants, i did not recongnise or know. Then again, Marina Square was seldom the choice of dinning in the past. Walking on, it was curiousity to find out just how much has changed that made me exploring every corner and alley, rather than interest to know what exciting new shops can be found in the spanking new mall. A lot of apparel shops, i guess, are located at the part of the mall that is not finished with renovation yet. Even so, already there are the few standard shops that reminded one that this mall, after all, is going to be yet another one of the dozens of malls around: Giant supermarket sits at the second level, while Swensens, Starbucks, Coffee Club - even that Pure Milk - are amongst the familiar shops around. So much is new, yet so much is also not.
Having satisfied myself that nothing is worth more than a cursory glance, i decided it was time to leave. That was when i realised i actually experienced difficulties in finding the right way out. I was not lost: the word to describe my state is that post-modernist appropriation, 'disoriented'. What else can one expect from a shopping mall that is half in operation, half in renovation, where one exit is never quite the exit that would lead you out to the right side? It was thus no coincidence that not once or twice but a couple of times that i came across shoppers who carried the disoriented look, who walked down a corridor only to turn back at the end. I felt an improbable sense of union established amongst us disoriented souls at that moment. Secretly, however, i heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that i am not the last mortal to set foot on this revamped mall. As the search for that elusive exit continued, i thought of how simple and unconfused Marina Square was before. But such thoughts are futile: Marina Square has been irreversibly altered.
There is no need for panic however. Dizzying though the layout of the mall might be to the first-time partron of the mall, there is nevertheless - thankfully! - the floor-plan/map available in every mall to assist the disoriented shopper: it speaks a reassuring universal language that even an idiot would be able to decipher; and it is his answer to getting out of the living hell that he inevitably would realise had him entrapped in. But just before i returned to the outside world, two new unexpected discoveries were made. First: a new fast food restaruant, Carl's Jr., is located at a corner away from the other eating places. Ah ha, this place finally has something new to offer; thank you, we can do with one less Macdonald's at this shopping mall, though the truth is that Macdonald's will probably be located at the other part of the mall that is still currently under renovation.
The second has something to do with the male toilet. If you are imagining something indecent, it is not. It is just that this was the first time i've visited a male washroom where a mirror takes the place of the wall that is usually above the urinals. Maybe this is not something uncommon. But, mind you, opposite the urinals are the washbasins, and, above them, more mirrors. Everyone understands the principle of reflection, and if you can now imagine what i have described, the implication is this: whether you are washing your hands or pissing at the urinal, you have quite a clear view of the entire toilet, except, of course, the private cubicles. It escapes me why the designer of the toilet deems it necessary or perhaps creative to have a mirror replace the wall above the row of urinals. There's no need to give a description on how we men go about relieving ourselves; suffice to say that it feels awkward seeing your reflection in the mirror and your surroundings as you quietly go about your business.
It wasn't until after a long walk around the mall that i finally saw the prominent esplanade mall across the road. I was out of the mall, away from the beguiling array of shops that invariably surrounded me as long as i was inside the mall.
The Marina Square that i think of will continue to be the familiar one that remains etched in my memory, not the present one. No shopping mall is ever in a static state; changes will always be the norm. But while tenants come and go like the mall's visiting shoppers, such changes are not usually massive and bold like those which happened to Marina Square. Retaining the same name does not retain its identity. It may take many more years down the road when new memories of the place replace older ones before the 'Marina Square' to me truly looks what it is.
Monday, June 20, 2005
A few things on my mind now
1. Today is yet another blazingly hot day, so hot that i couldn't bring myself to do anything except lie in bed and let the fan blow warm air into me. But the plus side to a very hot day is that sometimes i get to admire a pretty sunset when dusk comes. Looking out of the window i see a glowing sunset; the entire neighbourhood is lushly basking under the evening sun; and the sky is illuminated by a crimson red that enhances the simple joy of looking at the disparate cloud patterns. Very soon i've forgotten about the scorching suffering i've endured the whole day as the cooler night creeps in.
2. Chee Cheong Fun and Ice Kachang: such simple but deliciously tasteful hawker fare. The chee chong fun store at the hawker centre in my neighbourhood has been running for many years, and i am only too glad that its owners have not decided to wind up their business yet. Fortunately, their business is so good that there are always customers buying from them. For the ice kachang, i just decided to eat it to quench my thirst. Although there isn't much variety in the ingredients, even the plainest ice kachang would always taste delightful, i realised.
3. Can one be guilty and contented both at the same time? When i saw in the ST last Friday a 30% discount coupon on one book item at Borders, i knew instinctively i had to make a purchase. Almost every bookstore in town offers some sort of discount during the school vacation period and one should never buy a book without making use of the discount coupons, which usually are only 20% in value. The 30% that Borders offered is simply too good to give it a miss. In the end, i made use of 2 coupons to buy two books at Borders, and another 20% ST coupon to buy a book at Kino. Three new books - on top of the books that i bought recently and have not read - and $60 poorer, i feel guilty at the splurge. Yet the books i bought are not impulse purchases - i had wanted them for a long time, and the 30% coupons offered me the perfect excuse.
4. Yesterday, i finally made my first trip up Mount Faber on my bicycle. Training was not tough because the route was familiar and all right enough, mainly because i was the sweeper and stayed at the rear throughout. Mount Faber was not on the original planned route but some guys decided a more hilly terrain is better than the boring, endless Tuas road. I am glad i didn't have to get off my bike and push it up to the peak. The steepness was quite bearable, though the fact that i went slow at the start might have made me think that way. Now i am looking forward to another trip up Mount Faber, both for the training value as well as to take in the scenic view at the top.
5. I hate to see others jogging or running because they remind me of how hopelessly lazy i am. Running is just one of the sports that i think you basically have to painfully push yourself to finish the exercise. I am not blessed with some runners' legs and i really don't savour the prospect of running alone. It's just so not an appealing sport. Running with friends would at least make the experience much better and I would also be more motivated to run. Anyway, for a Singaporean guy like me, i have not much of a choice but to make a conscious effort to jog and run - at least frequently enough so that i will survive the annual dreadful IPPT, which i should be taking very soon. Sigh.
6. Dinner beckons. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Heavenly pleasure.
2. Chee Cheong Fun and Ice Kachang: such simple but deliciously tasteful hawker fare. The chee chong fun store at the hawker centre in my neighbourhood has been running for many years, and i am only too glad that its owners have not decided to wind up their business yet. Fortunately, their business is so good that there are always customers buying from them. For the ice kachang, i just decided to eat it to quench my thirst. Although there isn't much variety in the ingredients, even the plainest ice kachang would always taste delightful, i realised.
3. Can one be guilty and contented both at the same time? When i saw in the ST last Friday a 30% discount coupon on one book item at Borders, i knew instinctively i had to make a purchase. Almost every bookstore in town offers some sort of discount during the school vacation period and one should never buy a book without making use of the discount coupons, which usually are only 20% in value. The 30% that Borders offered is simply too good to give it a miss. In the end, i made use of 2 coupons to buy two books at Borders, and another 20% ST coupon to buy a book at Kino. Three new books - on top of the books that i bought recently and have not read - and $60 poorer, i feel guilty at the splurge. Yet the books i bought are not impulse purchases - i had wanted them for a long time, and the 30% coupons offered me the perfect excuse.
4. Yesterday, i finally made my first trip up Mount Faber on my bicycle. Training was not tough because the route was familiar and all right enough, mainly because i was the sweeper and stayed at the rear throughout. Mount Faber was not on the original planned route but some guys decided a more hilly terrain is better than the boring, endless Tuas road. I am glad i didn't have to get off my bike and push it up to the peak. The steepness was quite bearable, though the fact that i went slow at the start might have made me think that way. Now i am looking forward to another trip up Mount Faber, both for the training value as well as to take in the scenic view at the top.
5. I hate to see others jogging or running because they remind me of how hopelessly lazy i am. Running is just one of the sports that i think you basically have to painfully push yourself to finish the exercise. I am not blessed with some runners' legs and i really don't savour the prospect of running alone. It's just so not an appealing sport. Running with friends would at least make the experience much better and I would also be more motivated to run. Anyway, for a Singaporean guy like me, i have not much of a choice but to make a conscious effort to jog and run - at least frequently enough so that i will survive the annual dreadful IPPT, which i should be taking very soon. Sigh.
6. Dinner beckons. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Heavenly pleasure.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Endless thoughts
I wish the thoughts that flow incessantly in my mind could just flow out eloquently with ease into words. But there's such a gargantuan amount of them - some floating, some half-sinking and others probably totally submerged - that i need to arrange and collect them neatly before i start writing. And when that latter process do come about, i again need to spend time to express them cogently - otherwise, they would come out as an incoherent, random mess, which is pretty much their state while they are still on my mind.
This post is not about anything in particular, except that i have numerous posts that are in-the-making and will probably see their daylight in the days to come. While i am not some busy working adult nor a conscientious student at the moment, i don't fancy myself looking at the computer screen for long periods of time. What's more, in sultry, tropical Singapore, it is difficult to write comfortably for most part of the day unless you have the luxury of being in air-conditioned rooms all the time. If not, the night is the only time conducive for some reflections and writing. (Not the morning - that's for sleep!)
I've got one too many a book to start and finish reading, just as i have many things i want to blog about. Like, for instance, movies, which i have my friend tamk to thank for. (=
But more of that another time.
This post is not about anything in particular, except that i have numerous posts that are in-the-making and will probably see their daylight in the days to come. While i am not some busy working adult nor a conscientious student at the moment, i don't fancy myself looking at the computer screen for long periods of time. What's more, in sultry, tropical Singapore, it is difficult to write comfortably for most part of the day unless you have the luxury of being in air-conditioned rooms all the time. If not, the night is the only time conducive for some reflections and writing. (Not the morning - that's for sleep!)
I've got one too many a book to start and finish reading, just as i have many things i want to blog about. Like, for instance, movies, which i have my friend tamk to thank for. (=
But more of that another time.
PCK musical: What They Say
I've not caught the PCK musical, which i suppose is still running at the National Stadium presently. Neither am I very interested in it except for the fact that a very talented ex-classmate of mine has a role in it. And for that matter, if i were to buy a ticket to watch it, it would be exactly for that reason: to watch my friend in action, to show my support for her.
No, it's not because i think the rest of the cast are terrible; on the contrary, i believe there are quite a few thespians in the musical who no doubt would contribute to making the musical a good experience. My problem is with PCK the sitcom itself - its painfully caricatured lead (i.e., Phua Chu Kang), the almost bland and trite humour that local sitcoms somehow inevitably would descend into after the first few seasons and, in general, the cacophonous acting demanded of its actors. Whenever i caught the sitcom on Mobile TV (which i do not have a choice), i realised i would invariably make a conscious effort not to pay attention to what's going on on the screen: because i get really irritated by it, especially when PCK and his wife speak and gesticulate.
Yes, perhaps that's why it's a comedy: the characters are caricatures indeed; the actors have to exaggerate, obviously; and isn't slapstick humour part of the mandatory ingredients to making a comedy sitcom, you ask? This is perhaps all true and i reckon i have my prejudices. But the reasons i listed are still that which make me not want to catch the muscial, or the sitcom on TV for that matter. The musical may indeed be fabulous and prove me wrong but it's not likely to change my opinon, not least because PCK is PCK and will continue to speak the way he speaks - and that's irritating enough.
But enough of my displeasure with PCK.
Still on PCK the musical however, but about its publicity. I was watching the TV one day when I saw their ad which ran some quotations that praise the musical. That same ad also had mediacorp artistes giving the thumbs up for the musical. To use praises and positive comments of reputable audiences to drum up support is, of course, to be expected. The question is whether or not one buys them. If they come from distinguished critics or people in the theatre business, one is very likely to deem them credible; but when they come from such people as well-known politicians, they are likely to be questionable.
The point is this: politicians and fellow colleagues of the artistes in the cast are hardly the sort of people whom one would trust to give an honest or, indeed, valuable feedback on a muscial production. In this case, the ad in point quoted SM Goh and DPM Tony Tan, whose words totally convey the impression that the musical is professional, is very good. Well, SM Goh and DPM Tan may very likely feel what they said of the musical, but the point is that they are also very likely not to say anything unflattering, especially of such a production that features a character who has achieved something akin to national iconic status. (Consider who was the face that Singapore chose to show the rest of the world when The Amazing Race was filming the Singapore leg of its competition.) In the same way, it is difficult to imagine that mediacorp artistes would say anything negative of the musical were they to find any part of it unsatisfactory. If one should not be surprised that it is only natural for the publicity managers to find value in positive comments from very well-known guests, one would also have expected that they should know better than to use such unsatisfying and questionable sources. After all, politicians are better known for their political cunning and politically correct statements than insightful comments on the arts. I, for one, am certainly unimpressed with the material that was chosen to ostensibly lend credence to the musical production. It could have been better, not unless of course...
No, it's not because i think the rest of the cast are terrible; on the contrary, i believe there are quite a few thespians in the musical who no doubt would contribute to making the musical a good experience. My problem is with PCK the sitcom itself - its painfully caricatured lead (i.e., Phua Chu Kang), the almost bland and trite humour that local sitcoms somehow inevitably would descend into after the first few seasons and, in general, the cacophonous acting demanded of its actors. Whenever i caught the sitcom on Mobile TV (which i do not have a choice), i realised i would invariably make a conscious effort not to pay attention to what's going on on the screen: because i get really irritated by it, especially when PCK and his wife speak and gesticulate.
Yes, perhaps that's why it's a comedy: the characters are caricatures indeed; the actors have to exaggerate, obviously; and isn't slapstick humour part of the mandatory ingredients to making a comedy sitcom, you ask? This is perhaps all true and i reckon i have my prejudices. But the reasons i listed are still that which make me not want to catch the muscial, or the sitcom on TV for that matter. The musical may indeed be fabulous and prove me wrong but it's not likely to change my opinon, not least because PCK is PCK and will continue to speak the way he speaks - and that's irritating enough.
But enough of my displeasure with PCK.
Still on PCK the musical however, but about its publicity. I was watching the TV one day when I saw their ad which ran some quotations that praise the musical. That same ad also had mediacorp artistes giving the thumbs up for the musical. To use praises and positive comments of reputable audiences to drum up support is, of course, to be expected. The question is whether or not one buys them. If they come from distinguished critics or people in the theatre business, one is very likely to deem them credible; but when they come from such people as well-known politicians, they are likely to be questionable.
The point is this: politicians and fellow colleagues of the artistes in the cast are hardly the sort of people whom one would trust to give an honest or, indeed, valuable feedback on a muscial production. In this case, the ad in point quoted SM Goh and DPM Tony Tan, whose words totally convey the impression that the musical is professional, is very good. Well, SM Goh and DPM Tan may very likely feel what they said of the musical, but the point is that they are also very likely not to say anything unflattering, especially of such a production that features a character who has achieved something akin to national iconic status. (Consider who was the face that Singapore chose to show the rest of the world when The Amazing Race was filming the Singapore leg of its competition.) In the same way, it is difficult to imagine that mediacorp artistes would say anything negative of the musical were they to find any part of it unsatisfactory. If one should not be surprised that it is only natural for the publicity managers to find value in positive comments from very well-known guests, one would also have expected that they should know better than to use such unsatisfying and questionable sources. After all, politicians are better known for their political cunning and politically correct statements than insightful comments on the arts. I, for one, am certainly unimpressed with the material that was chosen to ostensibly lend credence to the musical production. It could have been better, not unless of course...
Saturday, June 18, 2005
The Bookstore
i don't know if in other countries they have not a few local bookstores which serve a rather local and probably exclusive community. Such bookstores are typically small in size, perhaps exhibiting a quaint sort of charm, and they invariably have a door-bell which rings whenever someone enters. (That's usually necessary because such bookstores are at any time run only by a few people, maybe just the store-owner and his/her faithful assistant.)
i certainly haven't been to many places to be able to paint those 'typical' characteristics - but that much i gathered from the occasional hollywood movies that i've watched over the years.
For instance, now at least i can recall the lovely film You've got Mail in which the gorgeous Meg Ryan works in a neighbourhood children's bookstore whose existence is threatened by the mega-bookstore that is opening in town. Besides its unhurried pace and beautiful New York setting, the movie made a deep impression on me because of the presence of a bookstore: somehow it holds a certain timeless appeal that evokes nostalgia as played out in the movie, and that appeal and image has endured long after i first caught the film many years ago. It helps also that this romantic comedy, with its delightful irony and absence of hackneyed romantic angst, did not suffer the same forgettable fate which others of the same genre inevitably always does.
But i digress.
i talked about local bookstores which perhaps can be more readily found in places like New York City to point to their dearth, or perhaps complete absence, in Singapore. Here, apart from a few bookstores that still sell and rent books but are hidden in some inconspicuous corner of various shopping malls, the dominance of the big boys has all but ensured the trade that they are in is exclusive to those who can sell plenty and sell big. The small, comely local bookstore can no longer survive with the erstwhile community that it serves; it is unmistakably inadequate compared to the sprawling stores located in hippy downtown; and surely one does not talk about longtime customers and friends in an age where consumers and merchandisers best embody the relationship between buyers and sellers. For that handful of mini-bookstores around the island which have not exited the local scene, i suspect they are perhaps minimally surviving well, and that they probably depend very much on a group of regular customers. (I can now think of the bookstore in Far East Plaza, which seems to be doing quite well though, and another one at Holland Shopping Centre.)
The truth however is that only a few players will likely survive in the long haul because they've proved to flex their muscles so well that others are likely to hobble along and suffer at their expense. It may not be long before they bleed out and make an unceremonious exit. At the present moment, i can only think of 4 main players, namely, Borders, Kinokuniya, MPH and Times. And even amongst this four, it is likely that only the first two are the real big boys dominating the trade. Both MPH and Times had been forced to restructure and scale down their retail space and consequently, it turned out that Borders and Kinokuniya - both situated at excellent prime locations - were able to retain the upper hand and survive more than decently well. In the case of Kinokuniya - though admittedly i patronize it the most often - i have observed that they have sales raking in at any time throughout the day.
I honestly can't remember when Borders and Kino came on into the book-selling scene: now i only know they are the places i am most likely to visit if i want to buy a book. In the past, Times and MPH, i recall, were giant bookstores, and perhaps the not-so-ubiquitous Popular bookstore then was a distant competitor. Now, Popular dominates the stationery trade and definitely assessment books for school children while Times and MPH have been forced to make a humble retreat. When MPH closed down its flagship store at Stamford road two or three years back, it was certainly a lamentable move which saddened many of its customers: this is because over time, as regular buyers of books, we are likely to develop fondness for the bookstore which we frequent; to terminate the existence of that bookstore is to expunge a piece of important history held dearly by us, and to cut short our love affair with the bookstore.
In spite of the demise of smaller bookstores and previous MPH and Times bookstores, we are likely to settle for an alternative bookstore which we will buy our books from in future; however, it seems to me that it is harder to cultivate a bonding between us the individual reader-cum-customer and the mega-bookstores of today - because the latter have become everyone's bookstore, another mammoth but distant store selling just another type of product.
It would be erroneous to claim that i wish for the return of that comely, neighbourhood bookstore that is just around the corner. Firstly, because i appreciate the wide availability of books in today's bigger stores like Borders and Kino and secondly, i have never had the privilege of experiencing a cozy relationship with a small, local bookstore. So, have i been wasting my time romanticising something which has never even once been within my grasp? I would like to think otherwise. I have in mind just that little but charming bookstore in You've Got Mail, located snugly in a corner of the beautiful city, a symbol of old-world charm.
Maybe it's just hollywood getting into me.
i certainly haven't been to many places to be able to paint those 'typical' characteristics - but that much i gathered from the occasional hollywood movies that i've watched over the years.
For instance, now at least i can recall the lovely film You've got Mail in which the gorgeous Meg Ryan works in a neighbourhood children's bookstore whose existence is threatened by the mega-bookstore that is opening in town. Besides its unhurried pace and beautiful New York setting, the movie made a deep impression on me because of the presence of a bookstore: somehow it holds a certain timeless appeal that evokes nostalgia as played out in the movie, and that appeal and image has endured long after i first caught the film many years ago. It helps also that this romantic comedy, with its delightful irony and absence of hackneyed romantic angst, did not suffer the same forgettable fate which others of the same genre inevitably always does.
But i digress.
i talked about local bookstores which perhaps can be more readily found in places like New York City to point to their dearth, or perhaps complete absence, in Singapore. Here, apart from a few bookstores that still sell and rent books but are hidden in some inconspicuous corner of various shopping malls, the dominance of the big boys has all but ensured the trade that they are in is exclusive to those who can sell plenty and sell big. The small, comely local bookstore can no longer survive with the erstwhile community that it serves; it is unmistakably inadequate compared to the sprawling stores located in hippy downtown; and surely one does not talk about longtime customers and friends in an age where consumers and merchandisers best embody the relationship between buyers and sellers. For that handful of mini-bookstores around the island which have not exited the local scene, i suspect they are perhaps minimally surviving well, and that they probably depend very much on a group of regular customers. (I can now think of the bookstore in Far East Plaza, which seems to be doing quite well though, and another one at Holland Shopping Centre.)
The truth however is that only a few players will likely survive in the long haul because they've proved to flex their muscles so well that others are likely to hobble along and suffer at their expense. It may not be long before they bleed out and make an unceremonious exit. At the present moment, i can only think of 4 main players, namely, Borders, Kinokuniya, MPH and Times. And even amongst this four, it is likely that only the first two are the real big boys dominating the trade. Both MPH and Times had been forced to restructure and scale down their retail space and consequently, it turned out that Borders and Kinokuniya - both situated at excellent prime locations - were able to retain the upper hand and survive more than decently well. In the case of Kinokuniya - though admittedly i patronize it the most often - i have observed that they have sales raking in at any time throughout the day.
I honestly can't remember when Borders and Kino came on into the book-selling scene: now i only know they are the places i am most likely to visit if i want to buy a book. In the past, Times and MPH, i recall, were giant bookstores, and perhaps the not-so-ubiquitous Popular bookstore then was a distant competitor. Now, Popular dominates the stationery trade and definitely assessment books for school children while Times and MPH have been forced to make a humble retreat. When MPH closed down its flagship store at Stamford road two or three years back, it was certainly a lamentable move which saddened many of its customers: this is because over time, as regular buyers of books, we are likely to develop fondness for the bookstore which we frequent; to terminate the existence of that bookstore is to expunge a piece of important history held dearly by us, and to cut short our love affair with the bookstore.
In spite of the demise of smaller bookstores and previous MPH and Times bookstores, we are likely to settle for an alternative bookstore which we will buy our books from in future; however, it seems to me that it is harder to cultivate a bonding between us the individual reader-cum-customer and the mega-bookstores of today - because the latter have become everyone's bookstore, another mammoth but distant store selling just another type of product.
It would be erroneous to claim that i wish for the return of that comely, neighbourhood bookstore that is just around the corner. Firstly, because i appreciate the wide availability of books in today's bigger stores like Borders and Kino and secondly, i have never had the privilege of experiencing a cozy relationship with a small, local bookstore. So, have i been wasting my time romanticising something which has never even once been within my grasp? I would like to think otherwise. I have in mind just that little but charming bookstore in You've Got Mail, located snugly in a corner of the beautiful city, a symbol of old-world charm.
Maybe it's just hollywood getting into me.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Liberation is...
Liberation is immobility not.
It is the silent but supreme sense of unrestrained freedom riding a bicycle affords you: to move as you wish to, as slow or as fast as you desire; to have no objective in mind but freely roam about, without the burden an end point or a finality weighs on you; to travel in the dead of the night, where the streets are desolate and where the only sounds you hear are the spinning of the wheels and the voices in your mind; to wander into unknown corners and evade unsuspecting potholes, while discovering hitherto unexplored places; to look into the unhidden vast sky, stealing a quick gaze at the constellation of meekly shinning stars; to be in constant motion yet retain a clarity of mind, with a stream of unhurried thoughts in quiet company; and, above all, to be a conscious-being feeling the sense of exhilaration and joy when riding a humble bike.
It is the silent but supreme sense of unrestrained freedom riding a bicycle affords you: to move as you wish to, as slow or as fast as you desire; to have no objective in mind but freely roam about, without the burden an end point or a finality weighs on you; to travel in the dead of the night, where the streets are desolate and where the only sounds you hear are the spinning of the wheels and the voices in your mind; to wander into unknown corners and evade unsuspecting potholes, while discovering hitherto unexplored places; to look into the unhidden vast sky, stealing a quick gaze at the constellation of meekly shinning stars; to be in constant motion yet retain a clarity of mind, with a stream of unhurried thoughts in quiet company; and, above all, to be a conscious-being feeling the sense of exhilaration and joy when riding a humble bike.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Young but Old
It seems silly, even downright frivolous, for someone in his early twenties to say he feels old or that he is getting old. This seems to be a travesty, and older folks are justified in feeling affronted. Yet year after another, those words are the common refrain that many of my peers, myself included, find ourselves uttering. Especially during such events like ubiquitous birthday celebrations or the much welcome end of yet another semester, it is likely that someone will let on that familiar refrain, to which everybody else would probably concur readily.
Twenty-something is hardly the kind of age that one would associate with Old; in all likelihood, it represents vibrant youth that exudes effervescence and sizzling zest. To be 20-something and say that you feel old is somewhat to rob the right of someone who is 40-something or older to that claim. What do us young, ignorant brats know about old? If at 20-plus years of age, when you are supposed to have just shorn off the innocence of teenage years (which now seem ages ago), you are lamenting about being old, come your thirties, you will probably be crying out loud - I'm super old! - and in your fourties, you will be cringing disgustedly.
That's exaggeration but i would bet people of all ages (probably right after 21) have the tendency to look upon each passing year as a reminder of how old they are becoming. When my friends and i tirelessly say each year that we are getting old, there is perhaps some genuine belief in what we say. We don't need someone who's been through more in life to tell us get a life because we are living a life even as we fear we are quickly and surely leaving our youth: some amongst us, for example, are pursuing passionately what they like to do while a few others, perhaps less adventurous, talk to friends and share with one another their aspirations. For one thing, in today's frenetic pace of life, to be working and worrying about endless number of things is to be and feel old; being young seems rather to be the preserve of school-going kids who surely have fewer worries (BGR and Mathematics homework do not count).
Ultimately, the oft-heard refrain manifests the inner fears that invariably linger in each of us, whether we are in our twenties, thirties, fourties or older. That is why we continue to say we are old/are getting old (realise it's not older) year after year. The first time we ever said that is also probably the first time we felt the burden in our lives. It could be intangibles like unfufilled dreams and lost childhood years or seemingly hefty matters like work and marriage. I know at sixty years of age - if i do get there - saying 'i am old' will take on a different and more sombre meaning. But now, at the inconceivable age of twenty-something, I would hazard a guess that the resonance found in that refrain takes on a different poignance for the very fact that we have perhaps only emerged from our clangorous teenage years not too long ago. To say you are old inevitably is to compare with some previous years. In our case, it was the somewhat rapid (but awesome) college-university-work transitional years. Unlike those in their thirties or beyond who have roughed out the passage of time that we are presently going through, we in the (early, i hope) 20-something age group are probably still adjusting to life's harsher realities, having only recently (length of time and when differ from one person to another) exhanged our impetuous, brash naviety or childishness for worldly wisdom and sensibility. The sense of loss, of eager anticipation, of befuddled uncertainties - they all contribute to the fuzzy disorientation that accompanies the poignancy of the seeming frivolity of 'we are getting old' musings.
At any rate, i know i am still young - although fast becoming old! Above all, it is the company of like-minded friends who are possibly in the same disoriented phase as I that makes me feel: heck, if i am old, so is everyone around me who's grown up over the years like me!
Cheers to being Young but feeling Old.
Twenty-something is hardly the kind of age that one would associate with Old; in all likelihood, it represents vibrant youth that exudes effervescence and sizzling zest. To be 20-something and say that you feel old is somewhat to rob the right of someone who is 40-something or older to that claim. What do us young, ignorant brats know about old? If at 20-plus years of age, when you are supposed to have just shorn off the innocence of teenage years (which now seem ages ago), you are lamenting about being old, come your thirties, you will probably be crying out loud - I'm super old! - and in your fourties, you will be cringing disgustedly.
That's exaggeration but i would bet people of all ages (probably right after 21) have the tendency to look upon each passing year as a reminder of how old they are becoming. When my friends and i tirelessly say each year that we are getting old, there is perhaps some genuine belief in what we say. We don't need someone who's been through more in life to tell us get a life because we are living a life even as we fear we are quickly and surely leaving our youth: some amongst us, for example, are pursuing passionately what they like to do while a few others, perhaps less adventurous, talk to friends and share with one another their aspirations. For one thing, in today's frenetic pace of life, to be working and worrying about endless number of things is to be and feel old; being young seems rather to be the preserve of school-going kids who surely have fewer worries (BGR and Mathematics homework do not count).
Ultimately, the oft-heard refrain manifests the inner fears that invariably linger in each of us, whether we are in our twenties, thirties, fourties or older. That is why we continue to say we are old/are getting old (realise it's not older) year after year. The first time we ever said that is also probably the first time we felt the burden in our lives. It could be intangibles like unfufilled dreams and lost childhood years or seemingly hefty matters like work and marriage. I know at sixty years of age - if i do get there - saying 'i am old' will take on a different and more sombre meaning. But now, at the inconceivable age of twenty-something, I would hazard a guess that the resonance found in that refrain takes on a different poignance for the very fact that we have perhaps only emerged from our clangorous teenage years not too long ago. To say you are old inevitably is to compare with some previous years. In our case, it was the somewhat rapid (but awesome) college-university-work transitional years. Unlike those in their thirties or beyond who have roughed out the passage of time that we are presently going through, we in the (early, i hope) 20-something age group are probably still adjusting to life's harsher realities, having only recently (length of time and when differ from one person to another) exhanged our impetuous, brash naviety or childishness for worldly wisdom and sensibility. The sense of loss, of eager anticipation, of befuddled uncertainties - they all contribute to the fuzzy disorientation that accompanies the poignancy of the seeming frivolity of 'we are getting old' musings.
At any rate, i know i am still young - although fast becoming old! Above all, it is the company of like-minded friends who are possibly in the same disoriented phase as I that makes me feel: heck, if i am old, so is everyone around me who's grown up over the years like me!
Cheers to being Young but feeling Old.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Like Ups and Downs in Life
Ascent
The slope looms ahead
Silently, unmoving,
Its expanse belying its treachery.
Nature provides a willing conspirator
With invisible strength it stealthily stirs,
Its presence felt through unrelenting contact.
At your command the wheels spin
Surging, propelling,
Man and machine in synchronised unison
Against the challenge of unwelcome foes
With tenacious will you pedal on,
Victory awaiting atop, foes vanquished.
Descent
The slope lies ahead
Serenely, longingly,
Its expanse calm and inviting.
Nature provides a reassuring ally
Lending a hand in seamless glide,
With whizzing air it spells relief.
At ease you breathe contentedly
Steadily, unhindered,
Man and machine in effortless unison.
The erstwhile foe forgiven and embraced
Savour the lightness of being while passing,
For such is the brevity of transient relief.
The slope looms ahead
Silently, unmoving,
Its expanse belying its treachery.
Nature provides a willing conspirator
With invisible strength it stealthily stirs,
Its presence felt through unrelenting contact.
At your command the wheels spin
Surging, propelling,
Man and machine in synchronised unison
Against the challenge of unwelcome foes
With tenacious will you pedal on,
Victory awaiting atop, foes vanquished.
Descent
The slope lies ahead
Serenely, longingly,
Its expanse calm and inviting.
Nature provides a reassuring ally
Lending a hand in seamless glide,
With whizzing air it spells relief.
At ease you breathe contentedly
Steadily, unhindered,
Man and machine in effortless unison.
The erstwhile foe forgiven and embraced
Savour the lightness of being while passing,
For such is the brevity of transient relief.
Unrehearsed Journey
"There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, 'sketch' is something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture."
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Life is an unrehearsed journey, if i may so put it that way. It's unrehearsed because you can't prepare for it in the sense that you don't know how the next chapter in your life would unfold. But your whole life you are told, perhaps with good intentions, how and what should be done to arrive at a certain end, an end that is held to be desirable. (And so, literature and arts won't do; physics and economics will.) How do i reconcile that with the notion that 'the first rehearsal for life is life itself'? That i've confused goals, and means, with life? That there are people who knew what they want, worked for it, and thus managed to live the life they pursued?
A friend of mine who was a political science major switched to philosophy in his second year. Naturally, i had to ask why. To which his reply was something like this: "Well, everyone's got to figure out what he wants somehow, i guess."
Somehow, those words struck a chord in me. And they have stuck in my mind since. (I hope i didn't change his words completely because then they would become something which came not from him but me.) My friend decided that philosophy was something he wanted to do and he made the choice. Of course there's nothing greatly significant in that small action but methinks it's admirable that he made the choice consciously, that he's 'figured out what he wants'.
I've always struggled and thought hard about what it is that i want. I believe one can only live one's life right when one lives it with passion and courage, and this entails pursuing what one truly desires. But sometimes this is not as easy as it is spelling it out here. Because what one desires is as elusive as how life is uncertain. And is it not true that that which we desire to pursue or achieve sometimes changes in the course of our unrehearsed journey? If that were so, how can i know - and when - definitely that i've 'figured out what i want'?
Perhaps i haven't thought hard enough. Or perhaps therein lies the melancholy beauty of life: One stumbles along and makes unexpected discoveries.
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Life is an unrehearsed journey, if i may so put it that way. It's unrehearsed because you can't prepare for it in the sense that you don't know how the next chapter in your life would unfold. But your whole life you are told, perhaps with good intentions, how and what should be done to arrive at a certain end, an end that is held to be desirable. (And so, literature and arts won't do; physics and economics will.) How do i reconcile that with the notion that 'the first rehearsal for life is life itself'? That i've confused goals, and means, with life? That there are people who knew what they want, worked for it, and thus managed to live the life they pursued?
A friend of mine who was a political science major switched to philosophy in his second year. Naturally, i had to ask why. To which his reply was something like this: "Well, everyone's got to figure out what he wants somehow, i guess."
Somehow, those words struck a chord in me. And they have stuck in my mind since. (I hope i didn't change his words completely because then they would become something which came not from him but me.) My friend decided that philosophy was something he wanted to do and he made the choice. Of course there's nothing greatly significant in that small action but methinks it's admirable that he made the choice consciously, that he's 'figured out what he wants'.
I've always struggled and thought hard about what it is that i want. I believe one can only live one's life right when one lives it with passion and courage, and this entails pursuing what one truly desires. But sometimes this is not as easy as it is spelling it out here. Because what one desires is as elusive as how life is uncertain. And is it not true that that which we desire to pursue or achieve sometimes changes in the course of our unrehearsed journey? If that were so, how can i know - and when - definitely that i've 'figured out what i want'?
Perhaps i haven't thought hard enough. Or perhaps therein lies the melancholy beauty of life: One stumbles along and makes unexpected discoveries.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Two Observations
1. If you have been living in the same housing estate almost your entire life, you would surely be aware that some of the uncles/aunties working in the market area are the same people who had earned your business when you were still a kid and now when you are a big grown-up. Their presence is in juxtaposition with the ever-changing landscape, the only constant that renders you a continued sense of familitarity all these years.
Yes, some things do not change. Like the Uncle and Auntie couple who used to sell duck rice but switched to fishball noodles some years ago. One can't help but take notice of their coarsened features and conspicuous streaks of grey hair: they reflect the many years that have lapsed and bear testimony to their dignified hardship and labour over the years.
2. At the swimming pool. After dutifully completing the usual round of laps, my attention was seized by an exuberant group of power-kids in the midst of their swimming lessons. The instructor was a rather stocky middle-aged man who spoke Mandarin but used English to express certain technical jargons.
Two of his students, a boy and a girl who looked no older than 10, were instructed to swim front crawl for 10 laps. They did so without any complaint but neither did they show eagerness - probably because they were already quite exhausted from the training. Nonetheless, it was clear that they gave their best, not least because each of them offered to the other a friendly competitor who had to be marked. I marvelled at the youthful elegance of their stokes and the quiet but determined way they swam lap after lap.
The only unpleasant sight was the boy's father who stood throughout in the lane the kids were swimming in. Like a professor father who is zealous to ensure that his child learn things the correct, effective and intelligent way, the boy's father's eyes never left his son; he followed his every stroke with a stern face, and took mental notes on what aspects required improvement. Each time the boy was nearing, he wasted no time to correct what he perceived to be his son's weakness, in a voice loud enough to be heard clearly from beneath the water. Clearly, the obtrusive father was oblivious to his physical hindrance in the pool, while his son at the most acknowledged his sayings without demonstrating a heedful response to his eager Dad.
Yes, some things do not change. Like the Uncle and Auntie couple who used to sell duck rice but switched to fishball noodles some years ago. One can't help but take notice of their coarsened features and conspicuous streaks of grey hair: they reflect the many years that have lapsed and bear testimony to their dignified hardship and labour over the years.
2. At the swimming pool. After dutifully completing the usual round of laps, my attention was seized by an exuberant group of power-kids in the midst of their swimming lessons. The instructor was a rather stocky middle-aged man who spoke Mandarin but used English to express certain technical jargons.
Two of his students, a boy and a girl who looked no older than 10, were instructed to swim front crawl for 10 laps. They did so without any complaint but neither did they show eagerness - probably because they were already quite exhausted from the training. Nonetheless, it was clear that they gave their best, not least because each of them offered to the other a friendly competitor who had to be marked. I marvelled at the youthful elegance of their stokes and the quiet but determined way they swam lap after lap.
The only unpleasant sight was the boy's father who stood throughout in the lane the kids were swimming in. Like a professor father who is zealous to ensure that his child learn things the correct, effective and intelligent way, the boy's father's eyes never left his son; he followed his every stroke with a stern face, and took mental notes on what aspects required improvement. Each time the boy was nearing, he wasted no time to correct what he perceived to be his son's weakness, in a voice loud enough to be heard clearly from beneath the water. Clearly, the obtrusive father was oblivious to his physical hindrance in the pool, while his son at the most acknowledged his sayings without demonstrating a heedful response to his eager Dad.
Friday, June 03, 2005
From IHT: David Brooks: Europe and the liberal illusion
I am not familiar with EU politics but the french no vote - and i heard the Dutch no has prevailed also - will have serious repercussions on the future course that the EU will take. However, the referendum outcome probably sheds more light on the nature of global politics today than on the psyche of French or EU politics per se. It is why the majority of the French said no that lends insight on the various issues pertaining to globalisation today - its political implications for advanced countries, which supposedly should be in a better position to benefit from globalisation, no?
I am not familiar with EU politics but the french no vote - and i heard the Dutch no has prevailed also - will have serious repercussions on the future course that the EU will take. However, the referendum outcome probably sheds more light on the nature of global politics today than on the psyche of French or EU politics per se. It is why the majority of the French said no that lends insight on the various issues pertaining to globalisation today - its political implications for advanced countries, which supposedly should be in a better position to benefit from globalisation, no?
Buying books - an addictive compulsion
"Early in the novel that Tereza clutched under her arm when she went to visit Tomas, Anna meets Vronsky in curious circumstances: they are at the railway station when someone is run over by a train. At the end of the novel, Anna throws herself under a train. This symmetrical composition - the same motif appears at the beginning and at the end - may seem quite 'novelistic' to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on condition that you refrain from reading such notions as 'fictive', 'fabricated', and 'untrue to life' into the word 'novelistic'. Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion.
"They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Bethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. But the motif of death and railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.
"It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsk, the railway station, and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty."
- From The Unbearable Lightness of Being, p. 51
I have decided to become more serious and disciplined in my reading habits, and it is with this (shaky) resolution that I have put aside other books and focused on Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
If the above quotation and the one in the previous post sound somewhat profound, the rest of the book pretty much teems with such contemplative descriptions on life and other matters of the human soul. This is also what makes the book readable in my opinion, because the author is able to lend insight into the human condition through his deft prose. The way the writing flows from one short episode (around 2 pages) to the next, resonates with the title of the book and the suject matter. Perhaps because of this, it feels like I am always able to make quick progress when reading the book. Sometimes I will linger a little longer at a certain page or a certain paragraph, peruse it again and ponder its meaning. Which is good because I don't want to just read a book that I can gloss over and finish in no time. A good read should be one which we find resonance in the subject matter and which provides insight into issues that are of interest. If it is able to make you want to read it again (and even again), then there's a chance, by your standard, that it's a darn good book.
My earlier self-imposed warning proved to be hopelessly ineffective, as no sooner had I reminded myself not to step into Kinokuniya than I broke it knowingly. And I shall add that I went to my favourite bookstore with every intention to browse the books, hopefully chance upon a good read and buy it. This, despite that I already have many books that hardly look like I am going to finish reading anytime soon.
But, just as an inveterate shopaholic would be out shopping for more things after her last purchase - because he finds shopping immensely satisfying, therapeutic, rewarding etc - the passionate reader cum book-lover would likewise be susceptible to the irresistible allure of a well-stocked bookstore. In fact, the voracious reader is likely to exhibit good old-fashioned loyalty to his preferred bookstore and would not think twice about picking up something he fancies. Unlike most other shopping purchases which are likely to be goods that will wear out or become out of vogue, hence requiring repeated purchases, books, even when they yellow and tatter, remain a prized possession of its owner.
The impecunious student unfortunately does not enjoy the privilege of being able to buy whatever book he fancies or buy books as frequently as he would like to. To be able to buy the occasional book that he has been eyeing for a long time, it is likely that he would need to possess desirable traits such as prudence. He needs to scrimp on other sinful mortal pursuits like fine dinning, buying handsome clothing and those endlessly improving technology gadgets that are likely to cost him an arm or a limb, and watching movies whose ticket prices have become obscenely exorbitant of late.
It doesn't help that it is difficult if not impossible to judge the price (different from value) of a book and measure its worth. Somehow, publishers seem to have succeeded in increasing the prices of books without raising a public outcry. (I can't verify this but it seems to me that nowadays, many books seem to cost more than what they would cost not too long ago.)
Now, enough of this. I've got to head down to Kinokuniya to grab the books that I saw yesterday. No, it wasn't hesistation that explains why I didn't buy them. It was the 20% discount Kino coupons which I remembered seeing in the Straits Times but had forgotten to cut them out.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Fortuity
"But is not an event in fact more significant and noteworthy the greater the number of fortuities necessary to bring it about?
"Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs out of necessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute. Only chance can speak to us. We read its message much as gypsies read the images made by coffee grounds at the bottom of a cup.
"Necessity knows no magic formulae - they are all left to chance. If a love is unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders."
- From The Unbearable Lightness of Being, 48
"Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs out of necessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute. Only chance can speak to us. We read its message much as gypsies read the images made by coffee grounds at the bottom of a cup.
"Necessity knows no magic formulae - they are all left to chance. If a love is unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders."
- From The Unbearable Lightness of Being, 48
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