Photography on Trips

It's odd, but I do feel the social pressure to document my trip a little. I remember that I used to take photographs, write and observe to a ridiculous extent. Time however has proved that the extensive documentation serves no purpose but to remind myself of the type of person that I used to be. Now, instead of finding my camera a necessary delight, I find it quite tiresome. I'd much rather stick my hands in my pockets and stride unencumbered down the streets of wherever I happen to be with my head looking up instead of through a camera lens. Instead of trying to capture the moment for future reliving, I'd rather just enjoy it there and then.

Perhaps its because of the nature of photography. To take good shots requires great concentration and an eye for composition. Its terribly annoying to be looking around at everything trying to ascertain if it makes a good picture. Worse still if I don't, because then all my pictures would stir up in me a rising discontent and dissatisfaction which rather taints my enjoyment of the day.

So I choose to leave my camera behind, and I rarely regret doing so.

Durham

Spitalfields

Where Monica Ali's Brick Lane was situated...

Today's trip to the Geffrye Museum

Kenwood House

London has been a blur of cold air, the metro, red buses and the muddy waters of The River Thames. It is beautiful, but for the last few days, I just kept feeling like something was missing. There was a disconnect somewhere.

Therefore today, I tried to find the England that I have always imagined as a child. I grew up reading Austen and the Bronte sisters; the England in my head has always been a mass of green, dotted with stately estates and acres of parks.

The Kenwood House. I even managed to see an incredible self-potrait of Rembrandt.

Ebb and Flow

It is said that our need for social connections is satiable. It is like hunger, it builds if not satisfied and when satisfied, disappears. Like hunger though, the need recurs over and over again. Ebb and Flow, Wax and Wane, Rise and Fall  - we have created so many synonyms to try capture this feeling of flux amid order.

That is how I feel; constant flux within a set and determined order.

Taylor Swift

Today I realised that I have 17 Taylor Swift songs in my iTunes. The most played is Tim McGraw at 149 plays. I am almost ashamed to be me right now. LOL.

Where will I be in 5 years time?

Today someone asked me a question. He asked me to picture myself in 5 years time and in my most idealised dream scenario, where on earth would I be, would I be single/married, what time would I wake up and what would I be doing. I'm not going to reveal my answers, however I did find out from him, with regards to what made the question so good.

1) He gets to roughly guess the girl's age depending on her answer with regards to the single/married question or most girls just go 'well... in 5 years time I will be 25 etc.' and BINGO!

2) He gets to find out with further prompting if they are seriously/casually dating someone based on their answers.

3) He gets them to talk about themselves and everyone likes talking about themselves thus he gets a favorable opinion. Also, most girls would ask him the same question in return.

4) When he gets to answer, based on what kind of girl he thinks she is - eg. If she is really sappy - he can alter his response to be something like 'well I imagine that I would be married and I will wake up at 7.30 to make breakfast for my wife'. LOL.

The point though, was not to educate you guys about how to get to know girls, but that I learnt something about myself whilst answering his question. When he was asking where on earth can I imagine myself in 5 years, I genuinely could not come up with an answer. If I could be living anywhere that I want, I don't know where would I want to live. I could say that my most direct go-to place would be Singapore. However, I will be lying if I say that living in Singapore for the rest of my life is the stuff of my wildest dreams. Maybe I'm at that place in life where the thought of settling anywhere just scares me.

It's kinda odd for me to observe myself now. I feel like I am at this stage in life where the thought of commitment to anyone, any idea, any path in life, just plain old makes me deeply uneasy. Maybe it's because I am starting to realise that commitment has consequences; it means sacrifice and the forfeiting of other options. I don't think I am comfortable with the opportunity cost of major life decisions now. So instead, I live in this state of limbo and I keep everything hypothetical. Ah well... just a few angsty college kid thoughts.

"Oh #@!$%, everyone's staying! What am I going to do?"

I have to share a paragraph in my Social Psychology textbook. It is too funny.

The passage was about the Alamo. To provide a little context, it was a scene of epic bravery in Texas's war of Independence from Mexico. There were fewer than 200 Texan soldiers garrisoned at the Alamo and they were to go up against 4000 Mexican troops under the command of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. Before the battle began, their commander Lieutenant Colonel William Travis offered every soldier the opportunity to leave he did so by drawing a line in the sand and inviting all who wished to join him to cross it. Every single man crossed that line and all of them died.

The psychologist who wrote the passage was at Alamo for a social psychology conference.

Now for the passage!

"There is no denying the heroism of those 200 men. They gave their 'last full measure of devotion' to the cause. But there is something about experiencing the Alamo in the presence of so many social psychologists - people attuned to the importance of the tiniest situational detail- that made it hard to imagine that the event actually occurred in such a storybook fashion. Given what we know about human behavior, it is unlikely that all 200 individuals enthusiastically crossed the line to join Travis. It is much more likely that the most devoted did so, and then a few more crossed the line so as not to be outdone, and then the others only reluctantly did so, after thinking to themselves, "Oh #@!$%, everyone's staying! What am I going to do?""

LOL. Now every textbook should be written like that.

Gilovich, T., Keltner, D. & Nisbett, R.E.(2011).Social Psychology (2nd ed.).New York:W.W. Norton. pp 275-276

His Robes for Mine

Today at church, we sang for the first time the most wonderful hymn. The lyrics just so beautifully reflected the graciousness and all-encompassing quality of the Lord's love for us; that he would sacrifice the life of his perfect son in exchange for  our unworthy lives. 

His robes for mine: O wonderful exchange!
Clothed in my sin, Christ suffered ‘neath God’s rage.
Draped in His righteousness, I’m justified.
In Christ I live, for in my place He died.

Chorus:

I cling to Christ, and marvel at the cost:
Jesus forsaken, God estranged from God.
Bought by such love, my life is not my own.
My praise-my all-shall be for Christ alone.

His robes for mine: what cause have I for dread?
God’s daunting Law Christ mastered in my stead.
Faultless I stand with righteous works not mine,
Saved by my Lord’s vicarious death and life.

His robes for mine: God’s justice is appeased.
Jesus is crushed, and thus the Father’s pleased.
Christ drank God’s wrath on sin, then cried “‘Tis done!”
Sin’s wage is paid; propitiation won.

His robes for mine: such anguish none can know.
Christ, God’s beloved, condemned as though His foe.
He, as though I, accursed and left alone;
I, as though He, embraced and welcomed home. 

--Chris Anderson/words --Greg Habegger/music

Honesty and Simplicity

I just want to be honest and simple again in my inter-personal relationships. However it just seems impossible to be honest without hurting anyone. Honesty seems to only thrive in situations that are pure of motive, trust laden and free of judgment. Looking at my description of such a situation, I think I am losing hope with each word that I type.

Introducing the awesomest roomie ever!

My roommate and I have fun.

How my iPod ruined my social graces

Just a couple of days ago, my french teacher stopped me mid-walk out of the classroom and said "Alison, tu aimes la musique, toi?" I think the fact that my french teacher whom I only see twice a week can notice my iPod obsession reflects something significant about the extent to which I am constantly plugged in.

I remember that I once admonished a poor soul on his "excessive" use of his mp3 player. My rationale was that the world is so fascinating, people are so interesting, it doesn't makes sense for him to want to block off all the sounds of the world. In fact, to properly experience life, we owe it to stimuli to actually take it in! Bleagh. I was such a irritating combination of idealist and existentialist.

Moving on several years later, here I am writing this post on how my iPod ruined my social graces. Then again, what social graces did I possess in the beginning if I was telling poor souls off about their personal habits. Thinking about it, the problem is probably exacerbated by that. I am already one of the more awkward people that I know. (Of course this excludes those with actually social issues) I have terrible habits like talking to myself in the shower and for some reason, the externalised internal dialogue likes to present itself whilst I climb stairs, and, when embarassing moments pop up in my head.

When I use my iPod...

1) I lose the ability to hear myself which further worsens the talking to myself problem because I cannot hear myself externalising, thus I am unable to check it. Worse still, I have the awful tendency that I judge others in the subway on. I sing half sentences that make complete sense when accompanied by my music, but sound ridiculous to strangers. (The problem is made infinitely worse when I OCCASIONALLY listen to songs like sexy bitch and I wanna f*** you baby) Most horrifying should be the "shaking" which I think is repressed dancing. It's almost like a rhythmic seizure that primarily affects my neck region and foot. Sometimes hand, and head... and shoulders. I should stop, this is getting embarrassing.

2) I ignore people. When I plug in, its just me, my thoughts and the music. Often after a hard class the last thing I want is to be bombarded with even more stimuli. So, anxious to plug in, I dash out of class to avoid walking to the bus stop with my classmates. Yep. I do that. =/

How many times have I been stopped by a breathless school mate asking me why did I not slow down to wait for them. Or worse, be confronted with a question on another day asking me why did I not respond when my name was called. ANSWER: Inner Ear Headphones

3) Wait, did I mention the farting? =D

For now though, my third pair of headphones just died on me. Life is getting more unbearable by the minute.

Leaving the under-achiever behind

I think I finally understand the source of all the stress and anxiety in my present life. Yes, part of it is due to the fact that the classes in year 2 are more demanding and I have a lot on my plate. However, the root cause is simple. I care more.

I have always been a chronic underachiever that was completely okay with being an underachiever. I have never been the sort to obsess over whether I am going to get an A. I have never believed that I had the capacity to top the class, or even wanted to. I've always shunned competition, because it was just easier and an A- with very little work is infinitely more enjoyable to achieve than an A with hard work. Basically, I coasted by on my intelligence and was satisfied with what it could bring me with minimal effort.

Now however, the goal of getting into grad school puts me right into competition with other A minuses. I am forced into competition, forced to care, forced to expect more from myself. No longer is underachieving okay, instead, I need to work my butt off fighting with these other intelligent and driven individuals. I am stressed because I know that I can achieve if I put my best foot forward. Finally I feel the need, the fire, the urgency to achieve. Now that I am actually working hard academically, I am anxious because I do not know if I actually have the ability to be in the top. Working hard means that I don't have an excuse of not working hard to fall back on. Do note though that 'working hard' is very relative. See what I did there? I gave myself another excuse. =D

All this needing to prove myself to myself is so infinitely exhausting. Although I must admit that I am looking forward to seeing just how able I actually am.

The restrictions of a decent life

From W. Somerset Maugham: Of Human Bondage

"He had thought of love as a rapture which seized one so that all the world seemed spring-like, he had looked forward to an ecstatic happiness; but this was not happiness; it was a hunger of the soul, it was a painful yearning, it was a bitter anguish, he had never known it before. he tried to think when it had first come to him. He did not know. He only remembered that each time he has gone into the shop, after the first two or three times, it had been with a little feeling in the heart that was pain; and he remembered that when she spoke to him he felt curiously breathless. When she left him it was wretchedness, and when she came to him again it was despair.

He stretched himself in his bed as a dog stretches himself. he wondered how he was going to endure that ceaseless aching of his soul."


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I must admit that it was the tasteless melodrama of the above passage that captured my attention. It really is no wonder that Wuthering Heights was my favourite novel when I was younger. At this age though, when maturity and levelheadedness is supposed to rule, I feel almost guilty to find the above appealing. Alas reckless doomed passion! You have no place in a life of commitment, responsibility, self-discipline and christianity.

Alive and Functioning

I am a highly functioning individual.

Every battle that we fight teaches us something about ourselves. In my case, I have learnt that fear, anxiety, tears, breakdowns and obsession cannot keep me from accomplishing what I set out to do. For the past 2 weeks I have seen myself commit hundreds of pages to memory through a film of tears. I have dragged myself to class despite waking up to a feeling of dread. I have held on white knuckled to my priorities even when everything was falling apart. I function.

I function because of an infinitely loving God who gave me the strength, who heard my prayers and answered them. Thank you.

---> Alive and Functioning

Idealism

From Of Human Bondage by W.Somerset Maugham

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"He did not know how wide a country, arid and precipitous, must be crossed before the traveller through life comes to an acceptance of reality. It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched, for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life. They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail driven into the body on the cross of life."

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My Dream Boy

A friend of mine was asking about my dream boy the other day. See, it was a hard question to answer because I have an idea of what would be good boyfriend material, or what would be suitable husband material. But a dream boy? That's taking it into fantasy territory. At this moment in time though, the answer cannot be clearer.

My dream boy will have slightly curled chin-length hair, the kind that just about makes a pony-tail. He is tall, thin and pale... beautiful almost. He rides an awesome motorbike everywhere he goes and best of all, he keeps a helmet specially for me. He is a photographer and he makes me his art. In his eyes, I am the most beautiful. He is slightly awkward, reticent almost in front of strangers, but becomes the most charming creature when surrounded by those he dearly loves. Yes, my dream boy is a cliche. :) Who cares, someone like that should exist only in our imaginations. That way he can remain perfect and unattainable.

Midnight Restlessness

The most beautiful girl in the world.

Today, someone said the sweetest thing a boy could say to a girl, to me. Unfortunately, he was talking about someone else. :) The person's exact words?

"her beauty makes me smile"

Isn't that the loveliest set of words ever? Especially since it comes from a real life, slightly abashed human being and not some cliched media induced setting. Thing is, the girl that he was talking about wasn't exactly a publicly acknowledged beauty, and he knew that. But to him, she was the most stunning girl he had ever met, and no one else even came close.

I think I would be most happy if I ever had the chance to be as lucky as her.

The view outside my window

Just wanted to remember the colour of the sea.

Da Bomb

Inspired by the typhoon's gusty winds flapping my dress around like I am some superstar, I have decided to confess my deepest, darkest desire.

Are you ready?
.
.
.
.
.
Wait for it
.
.
.
.
.
I want someone to stop me on the road and go "Girl! You walk like You Da Bomb!"

Poe's magic

To___. 

by Edgar Allan Poe

Not long ago the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained the power of words-- denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words, two foreign soft dissyllables,
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlitdew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart
Unthought-like thoughts, that are the souls of thought, --
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel
(Who hasthe sweetest voice of all God's creatures),
Could hope to utter. And I -- my spells are broken;
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand;
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write -- I cannot speak or think --
Alas, I cannot feel; for 't is not feeling, --
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing entranced adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates -- thee only.

"I work to financially support my family."

Today in class, we discussed the idea of work and family as ikigai i.e. that which makes our life worth living.

We explored the link between love and money and how these seemingly disparate concepts are inextricably intertwined in our lives. Often, we place monetary values on things that should not have price tags. For example, life insurance, is money a consolation prize for the death of a parent, a sister, a spouse? Can we really put a value to the life of a human being? Dating is also an interesting practice. More often than not, the man pays for the entertainment and the woman is expected to reciprocate with love, or affection or even intimate relations.

We like to think nobly of ourselves, that we are ultimately motivated in our actions by love. Truth is, money is never far behind.

The conversation made me think of my maids. I had two in my life. Wilma, who was around till I was about 13 and Riza who only recently left. Wilma played the role of mother to me, whilst my own mother and father were working. She cooked my meals, brought me to school, took me roller blading and brushed away my tears when they fell. Wilma was not my mother though, she was someone that my parents spent an average of 700 dollars a month to play the role of caretaker, to assume the parental responsibilities that my parents were too busy working to take up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter and this is not a rant. In fact, I loved Wilma and my life is enriched for her presence in it. I'm just questioning the validity of the statement "I work to financially support my family." How many times have we heard that statement uttered. If so, then family and love seems to be the ikigai of these people. Why then do they spend so much time at work and so little time at home? Why do they use the money that they earned to hire someone else to spend time with and take care of their families, the very thing that is supposed to make their lives worth living? Especially since most of the families that hire maids are upper middle class and above, i.e. families that do not require the surplus cash that more time spent at work provides.

I don't deny though, that love as an excuse would make a lot of people feel much better about themselves. It's odd isn't it, we are socialised to value love and family above money and yet, we are also socialised under capitalism to evaluate social status using money.

All that said, I miss Wilma. I miss the woman that played the role of my mother for 12 years and then quit.

Encompassing God

From Thomas Nagel - What does it all mean?

The appeal to a religious meaning of life is a bit different. If you believe that the meaning of your life comes from fulfilling the purpose of god who loves you, and seeing him in eternity, then it does not seem appropriate to ask, "And what is the point of that?" It's supposed to be something which is its own point, and can't have a purpose outside itself. But for this very reason it has its own problems.

The idea of god seems to be the idea of something that can explain everything else, without having to be explained itself. But its very hard to understand how there could be such a thing. If we ask the question, "Why is the world like this?' and are offered a religious answer, how can we be prevented from asking again, "And why is that true?" What kind of answer would bring all our "Why?" questions to a stop, once and for all? And if they can stop there, why couldn't they have stopped earlier?

The same problem seems to arise if God and His purposes are offered as the ultimate explanation of the value and the meaning of our lives. The idea that our lives fulfill God's purpose is supposed to give them their point, in a way that doesn't require or admit of any further point. One isn't supposed to ask "What is the point of God?" any more than one is supposed to ask, "What is the explanation of God?"

But my problem here, as with the role of God as ultimate explanation, is that I'm not sure I understand the idea. Can something really be something which gives a point to everything else by encompassing it, but couldn't have, or need, any point itself? Something whose point cannot be questioned from the outside because there is no outside?

If God is supposed to give our lives a meaning that we can't understand, it's not much of a consolation. God as ultimate justification, like God as ultimate explanation, may be an incomprehensible answer to a question that we can't get rid of. On the other hand, maybe that's the whole point, and maybe I am just failing to understand religious ideas. Perhaps the belief in God is the belief that the universe is intelligible, but not to us.

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I just thought the above excerpt was a wonderfully eloquent piece of writing that so accurately captures the kind of struggle Christians have with appropriate questioning. By which I mean it seems as if every question and every dilemma has but one end and one answer, for God is all encompassing and in being so, ultimately restrictive.

Decisions

From an article in the nytimes about decision fatigue. (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/21/magazine/do-you-suffer-from-decision-fatigue.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&ref=general&src=me)

"Part of the resistance against making decisions comes from our fear of giving up options. The word “decide” shares an etymological root with “homicide,” the Latin word “caedere,” meaning “to cut down” or “to kill,” and that loss looms especially large when decision fatigue sets in."

I'm hiding behind this!

Grace

I love Grace, she always puts things in perspective for me.

Me: I spent the entire day shut in my room sobbing and listening to Skyscraper by Demi Lovato.
Grace: That is so f****** emo.

Me: I feel like I progressed too quickly. I tried to do the right thing, but I am not ready for it. That's why I am miserable.
Grace: The deed should come first, that is how you become a better person. (Okay, I must admit that I don't remember the exact words, but this is the gist of it.)

My sister, what would I do without her.

Understanding God

I read something the other day, which made me think of what some of the premises a Christian life is based on. It is difficult to provide the full context of the excerpt. However it is basically said by a young intellectual who is dealt a death sentence from chronic consumption. He argues against the teachings of humility and obedience for their futility against his inevitable end.

Dostoevsky's - The Idiot

"At the same time, no matter how hard I tried, I could never imagine that there was no future life or providence. Most probably it all does exist, but we understand nothing of that future life, nor anything of the laws that govern it. But if it is so difficult, even absolutely impossible, to comprehend, how could I be held responsible for failing to makes sense of the incomprehensible? Of course they tell me, and the prince along with them, naturally, that this is where obedience comes in, one must obey without question, out of pure decorum, and for this meekness of mine I will most certainly be rewarded in the next world. We greatly demean providence if we ascribe our conceptions to it out of pique that we can't understand its workings. But then again, if it's impossible to understand, then I repeat, it is hard if we have to answer for what man is not equipped to comprehend. And if so, how am I to be judged for not being able to understand the true will and laws of providence? No, best leave religion out of this."

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As Christians we are often told of the "eternal perspective" that god has and that we as mere mortals, specks in the timeline of this universe cannot possibly comprehend God's plan. We are told to be obedient and that in his time, he will reveal what little we are ready for. So much of our lives is waiting, trying to listen, waiting and obeying, all whilst trying to plaster the giant question mark ahead with faith.

Ippolit says "if it's impossible to understand, then I repeat, it is hard if we have to answer for what man is not equipped to comprehend." To a certain extent, I do see where he is coming from. We don't know what is up ahead. It is because of this question mark that the need for words like "eternal perspective" and "in his time" exist. It is because of this question mark that we cling to faith like a lifebuoy. We are obedient, we are humble, we follow meekly, and we do all these based on what? The mystery of god's infinite plan, the rough sketch we get of providence? Despite all the lack of understanding and frenetic plastering of holes with faith, we still face judgment. Judgment for a world that we don't quite understand. Judgment for the sin that we were born into (should we choose to turn away from god), Judgment from a god that we cannot wholly comprehend.

It just seems like too much sometimes.

Wanderlust

I am so glad that I made the decision to go off to Phuket. Truth is, I just need to get away from everything for awhile. I miss being a stranger in a foreign land, the cloak of anonymity, seen as loneliness by some is a sort of comfort to me. I like wandering streets knowing that I'll never see the faces around me again.

All that said, I must admit though, the wanderlust in me has somewhat been quenched. I sense a change of heart, a pulling towards security, a stable home, a job and a family. I kind of realise that I don't want to lead a life stumbling around the world. Its not the kind of life that will bring me the most satisfaction. However, this means that there are other factors that I must take into account. I think I will soon come to the point where I have to gamble with what I personally want as opposed to what is best for stability.

Trees

I remember what it was like going down the mountain in the dark. I remember flinging myself from tree to tree, grasping blindly, ignoring the the scrapes on my fingers and the cuts on my thighs. Tree to tree, trying to stop my inevitable descent.

Its odd, but it seems to be the perfect analogy for what I have been doing.

Unconscious Behavior

I feel like we keep making the mistake of presuming that other people are fully conscious of the intentions and consequences of their own actions and words. Often, we remember what other people say, yet forget our own constructs. We try holding other people accountable to their words and yet we are never accountable to our own.

We need to stop thinking that words or actions are deliberate, because most of the time, they are not. Most of us don't even know what is it that we want, how then, are we to devise a manipulative plan to get it. But admitting this, leads to the realization that we cannot take anyone- including ourselves too seriously.

-

I am tired of trying to fight battles with armies that have put down their arms and built impenetrable fortresses around their territory. I think its time I take a leaf from past experience and stop fighting the pointless fight. There is no victory in slamming oneself repeatedly against a wall.

This time, I surrender. I'll walk away. Even if it means tearing my entire stronghold from the ground.

Cappuccino

My greatest pleasure during this period of time must be the making and drinking of cappuccino. Its something about the perfectly steamed velvety and slightly caramelised milk, the swirling of the milk to lend it that beautiful gloss, the tilt of the cup and the careful pour. 50% of the time, I will manage to create a perfect little heart with the foam, the ultimate manifestation of how much love I put into that cup. I must admit though, when put into the hands of a callous customer, it causes my own heart to break a little.

A cup of cappuccino provides such comfort. The smoothness of the foam, the warmth of the milky fragrant coffee and the slight sweetness of the chocolate powder combined, create a sensation unlike any other. I wish could live in a cup of cappuccino... of course, I would have to make it myself.

与狼共舞

最近，我终于了解你所谓与狼共舞的心情。我也害怕了，但我弄不清楚敌人是谁。现在的我只能尝试用距离来争取那虚假的控制感。有时觉得为了幸福，我矛盾的一直跟自己的欲望展开斗争。

Dreams

I dreamt a strange dream last night. The details of which are beginning to fade away.

I was at the abode of a Burmese holy man with someone that I knew. The holy man made jokes that were laced with a certain quality that made me fear. There were tests, black rope bridges that culminated in hammock like swing seats where we were asked questions. I think we passed because the next scene was us sitting with the holy man at a table where there was a platter of large peeled whole oranges, smaller peeled half oranges and finally small whole green and orange ones.The holy man said that things are made more desirable when compared to others. The plates of oranges looked beautiful from afar, but upon closer inspection, they were crumbling, rotting. The holy man and my acquaintance started eating. I saw them eating the large oranges, it was as if they did not notice the worms breaking the surface. I reached for the smallest whole orange one and as I ate, a smooth green worm emerged.

没有钱你会爱我吗？

没有钱你会爱我吗？At work, I hear this at least once a day. It has come to the point where I have run out of ways to make light of that statement.

The boys I work with are young, independent creatures. Be it 19 or 25, they all have the same tale of leaving their homes to try find better paying work here in Singapore. They are cooks drawing the same hourly rate of $5.5/hour, but the crucial difference is that for me, this job is merely a sojourn into a different world but for them it is something they have to struggle to rise above.

Its odd really, the difference between them and the other young men of my acquaintance. They all think about girls, cars and gadgets, however the conversations about these are vastly different. Its not "will she like me? Shall I get an iPhone or a BB? When should I buy a car?" but its "How can I find a girl if I am so poor? How am I to buy her dinner? Will she be upset if we take the bus? Should I replace my old broken phone?" Sometimes, I find myself at a loss, I just do not know how to reply. What am I to say to "Alison, will you love me if I am poor?" The thing is, they are not asking if a girl would love them, they are asking if a girl would accept them and entrust them with her future.

I was pushed to do some self reflection upon hearing the above question over and over again. I remember the first time I answered with a "I don't think I could marry an unsuccessful man." Now, don't ask me to define success, that would be a whole different blog post. However, I wanted to swallow that sentence whole after I saw the look on the cook's face. He reacted by slapping the towel he was holding on the metal table exclaiming "how am I supposed to become successful! I am stuck working at this job 10 hours a day to make ends meet, how am I supposed to become successful!" Despite the overly personal language that seem to hint at a direct reply to me, I think he making a general statement about such affairs in his life. Now, the phrase "没有钱你会爱我吗?" has become their mantra... its played on their handphones as they cook, on the tips of their tongues when they converse and each time they say it, I feel like someone shoved a cotton wad down my throat.

I used to pride myself on not being a materialistic person. I thought that wealth was not important. My only criteria for a man was for him to love god and be intelligent. However I think the old me was never confronted with men in their position before. I was complacent and arrogant enough to completely ignore the presence of others beyond my comfort zone and thus stupid enough to make self satisfied proclamations about not caring about money. I struggle with my ideas of inequality, with my just discovered materialism and my prejudices.

After watching Jane Eyre the other day, something struck me during the epic dialogue between her and Rochester.

"Do you think I am an automaton? ­ a machine without feelings?...Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong — I have as much soul as you, — and full as much heart...I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; — it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal, — as we are"

It was not the romance of the latter words that tugged at my heartstrings but the sentence "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong — I have as much soul as you, — and full as much heart" Who am I to disregard someone because of their social status, success or money making ability. Is my heart ruled by elitism? The romantic love that I can have for a man, does it come dangling with requirements, sculpted by my socio-economic class? If so, then is that kind of elitist love true and proper?

Mental Health

Psychology best sellers always claim to know the secret source to all our problems. We often find out after hours spent re-examining our thought processes, that a large percentage of our problems stem from a mixture of unrealistic expectations and cognitive discrepancies. Their solution? Learn that our minds are limited and dismiss the assumption that we are the exception rather than the rule.

I used to think that these authors were equipping us with the tools to achieve happiness, or at least get the ability to understand our emotions in a more scientific manner. However, I finally realise that the ultimate goal for many of these authors is mental health. I think it is now important for me to understand the importance of mental health, and its relationship with the more philosophical interpretation of happiness.

The Public Pool

Dearest Alison,

The next time you fancy taking a dip in the public pool, please consult this blog post.

3 reasons why you should not wear a bikini to the public pool.

1 The pool is situated beside a mosque.

1.1 As you swim, you can literally see the crescent moon rising into the sky.

1.2 You can't shake the knowledge that there are masses of praying men in the building right next to the pool.

2 Malay families

2.1 Malay families - Hoards of screaming children, diver-suit like swimming costumes and judgmental parental eyes.

3 Everyone, with the exception of teenage boys at the pool is either over 40 or under 12. One word- Stares.

7 reasons why you should not go to the public pool.

1 The water is salty.

2 You can't swim a lap without bumping into some really old or really young body.

3 No hot water in the showers.

4 The water in the showers only run for 2 seconds per press of the button.

5 No hair dryers or electrical outlets.

6 You never know what sort of diseases the people sharing the same body of water with you have.

7 Swimming lessons, aqua-aerobic lessons, everyone else has more claim over the pool than you do.

BE WARNED

The night is mine

I like to complain to others about my insomnia, my screwed up sleep cycle. The complaints are really just an attempt at normalcy that I hide behind. The truth is, I love my late nights, my early mornings, my solitude. I can close my eyes and dance under the fluorescent light of my room. The light that seeps through my eyelids has the quality of sunlight that only exists in photographs. The kind of light that permeates three-quarters of the frame, dusty and enveloping.

At times, I go to the McCafe a short walk away with a book. The barista always prepares my coffee with such exceptional patience and care, at a time where he has no one else to serve. He brings it to me, me in my grey dimpled chair next to the transparent glass, made dark by night. Smiles and no conversation.

When I grow restless, I take a walk. Sure enough, there are always these stragglers walking alone at night. There is a code for wandering, you can look from afar but when you draw near to another being, you must look away. Strangely enough, the darkness isn't so much of a cover when one is purposeless. I always think of the same thing when I see middle aged drifters. I wonder if their existence on the streets have to do with a quarrel with their spouses or their children, if a hostile home environment is what drove them out.

I like how a few hours means so much more at night than it does in the day. The difference between 2pm and 5pm isn't so much to a day person. At night though, the difference between 2am and 5am is phenomenal. Similar to its pm counterparts, it can pass by in a heartbeat with a good book, some work or even quality television programming. The key lies in how the three hours between 2pm and 5pm feels like time that should be lived and used, whereas using time between 2am and 5am feels almost sacrilegious. Every time I look at the clock, a small, slightly guilty bubble of delight rises in my tummy. I feel like I am getting something that others do not have, like the night is mine.

Belongings

I really do not know how to pack. After moving around on my own for so long, my possessions no longer have a place in Singapore. Instead, they have attached themselves to my homes away from home. With regards to material possessions, I have literally nothing of use to me in Singapore. All the clothes that I wear, my toiletries, my camera equipment and my favorite books follow me around wherever I go.

I must admit that the above phenomenon is a result of me never spending more than a month in Singapore at a time. In Shanghai, I always had a place to stay at during the holidays. This meant that I never had to go home if that was what I wished. Here, I suddenly am faced with the prospect of 4 months at home and having to pack up all my belongings into two bags for storage. Without a place of my own overseas, I suddenly feel kind of homeless. Also, I am faced with the prospect of having to bring, under a baggage limit of 25kg, all that I need to live on for 4 months. Its insane. I don't even know if I have a place to stay should I choose to come back a couple of days earlier. To compound to that, the building that I am supposed to live in, isn't even completed.

What keeps me feeling safe and grounded while I am alone overseas has always been the knowledge that I have a tiny little space to call my own. A bed, a chair and all my lovely books waiting for me. Now, I'm adrift.

YAY!

Learnt phonetics in a night! My confidence is restored. It is true, I can do almost anything if I set my mind to it! (Okay... maybe with the exception of sports and music hahaha!)

Save me

Ever since I first watched "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", a certain line that clementine said engraved itself onto my mind. She tells Joel that "Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours."

To me, that line is the epitome of cool. It is ruthlessly honest, it possesses spunk, spirit and an unwavering independence. Reading this line as a teenager made me feel worldly and strong. I wanted to be in her position, to say that, to be that person. Superficially, I still relate. I am a messed up girl trying to find my own peace of mind, I still don't have the capacity to help someone else find his. Clementine's statement though, has deeper connotations than that. Those lines should apply to herself as well. What she does not want others to expect of her, she probably does not expect of others. Her peace of mind is hers to find, and not someone else's prerogative to give her.

Fast forward a couple of years, I catch myself writing a post last night that goes as follows...

"Its always startling to realise that one has been replaced.

Today, I think I saw a definite sign of that. I guess no amount of preparation or rationality can ever cushion the blow. I guess I always thought that he would be around, that solid, comforting presence in my life. With him around, I was never really afraid. He lent me the courage to pursue my dreams, patiently talked me through my moments of despair... (hey, he just called me on skype - right smack in my moment of despair)

Coming back to what I was writing... I guess it was a false alarm. Foreshadowing of what is to come?"

Who was the teenage me trying to fool? I am no Clementine. I am looking for someone that I can depend on, someone that makes me better than I am. I'm looking for someone that puts a spring in my step, someone that is the answer to all that is wrong in my life. I'm looking for someone that would as Joel said "save me". (I feel inordinately obliged to put in a god reference here and talk about how I have found that person- but I won't. On my blog at least I get to be truthful) I guess to a certain extent, what is left of teenage Alison in me is disgusted by this admission and wants to stomp around chanting "weak!". But hey, what does teenage Alison know about romantic love? =D Maybe 21 year old Alison does not know much about it too, however she does know much more about herself and her needs.

I might never find that person that can be all that I want him to be. However it is time that I acknowledge what I want. It at least brings me a step closer to getting it.

Organised religion and Choice

In Barry Schwartz "The Paradox of Choice", I came upon an extremely interesting passage detailing how choices have affected the American view of religious activities.

"Whereas most of us inherit the religious affiliations of our parents, we are remarkable free to choose exactly the "flavor" of that affiliation that suits us. We are unwilling to regard religious teachings as commandments, about which we have no choice, rather than suggestions, about which we are the ultimate arbiters. We look upon participation in a religious community as an opportunity to choose just the form of community that gives us what we want out of religion. Some of us may be seeking emotional fulfillment. Some may be seeking social connection. Some may be seeking ethical guidance and assistance with specific problems in our lives. Religious institutions then become a market for comfort, tranquility, spirituality, and ethical reflection, and we "religion consumers" shop in that market until we find what we like.

It may seem odd to talk about religious institutions in these kinds of shopping-mall terms, but I think such descriptions reflect what many people want and expect from their religious activities and affiliations. This is not surprising, given the dominance of individual choice and personal satisfaction as values in our culture. Even when people join communities of faith and expect to participate in the life of these communities and embrace (at least some of) the practices of these communities, they simultaneously expect the communities to be responsive to their needs, their tastes and their desires."

I guess this passage hit a spot with me, not merely because of its incredible accuracy, but because ever since I came to HK, I've been using "shopping for churches" as an excuse to be lazy and sleep in on Sundays. Every church that I go to is never the "perfect" one for me.

The Morningside Muse

There is this inspirational poster in my bedroom. On it, a beautiful bluish orange picture of a mountain range and a quote by G.B. Shaw. It goes as follows "People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, make them."

I have lived by this code for the past few years. "If you can't find them, make them." I believe that to get opportunities, I cannot wait for others to give them to me, I have to find a way to create a situation most conducive for opportunity seizing. I chanced upon a way of creating these situations when I was 15. I realised that if I brought new and fresh ideas to old systems/ways of doing things, I could often find people that were willing to give me a chance. Using this method, I became head girl guide, spearheaded the Singapore Young Photographers Convention, got 3 government scholarships, went to China, then Hong Kong and most recently, started The Morningside Muse.

The Morningside Muse, current bane of my life and first aid for my self esteem. It is the clearest example in my life of how my method of opportunistic creation merely serves to open doors. The MM has been an incredibly humbling and disappointing experience for me, issue after issue. Opening its pages is like confronting myself with all my leadership inadequacies and publishing idiocy. Yet, I still revel in the feel of its glossy pages and clutch desperately at the hope that the next one will be better.

The problem with the MM is its initial concept, it is supposed to be a platform for talented self expression. It was supposed to be a portal wherein youths can say what they wanted to say, to shake off apathy and showcase their talents. The concept though lofty and pretty has turned round to bite itself. Self expression means its difficult to regulate the content, an open platform means that it is difficult for me to turn away work or edit it too much. Free design means that I get 16 brightly coloured pages that are the opposite of classy and refined and unfortunately, never match. Efforts to contain feel suspiciously like suppression and in HK, that is a big no no. I am finding it immensely hard to edit when others send me articles that may be offensive as I do not know if I should be allowed to censor. Its been tough chasing after people to hand me articles as I'm starting to feel like the MM has become an obligation for the writers instead of an inspiration.

I want to make it better, but in this case, I don't know how. Maybe its time for a meeting. One of our many ineffectual meetings where 5 people turn up.

I really do not know if I should or can give up on the idea. I don't even know if the MM has any contribution whatsoever to Morningside or CUHK. One thing I do know, it does feel good every time printing day arrives. Its also great on my resume... till the day some employer reads it I guess.

Ahhhh... My pet project

I'm starting to think that I have neither the patience nor the ability to get what I want.

Ramblings

Living overseas though lonely, has its perks. Sometimes I miss a particular person so much that it feels as if I am walking with a shadow of that person by my side. The shadow accompanies me on my solitary journeys down the mountain to class, it accompanies me as I search for TV shows to fill up my nights and it smiles with me as I relieve our shared moments.

The strength gained from enduring that is the perk. The self discipline taken to overcome the pervasive quiet, to acknowledge the distance and to ignore the shadow as often as I can.

I have always liked that I have two separate worlds. One in Singapore, another overseas. I always took the utmost care to make sure that those worlds do not mix. I guess its the feeling of security I get from the knowledge that if something went wrong in one world, I could always hide in the other till things righted themselves again. Therein lies the problem with the shadow, it seems to be the only thing that can cross over. The shadow though firmly planted in one world, is empowered by my yearnings and leaves footprints all over this other world of mine. It takes away my security blanket and messes up my clean, split up frame of mind.

My sister said recently that "I could have made him happy if he just made the decision to be happy". I am perhaps more like JM than Grace. I choose to be unhappy because I know that happiness any other way is not going to be fulfilling. Is it okay to want something even if you have a deep suspicion that it won't bring you joy? Still, as long as I have time, my desires will take first priority.

FREEDOM

I just want to run away from it all! Responsibilities, ties, expectations, pressure... everything! Its horrifying that I am saying this in the 2nd week of my first semester.

Its been awhile

Hello I'm in Delaware- City and Colour

So there goes my life
Passing by with every exit sign
It's been so long
Sometimes I wonder how I will stay strong
No sleep tonight
I'll keep on driving these dark highway lines
And as the moon fades
One more night gone, only twenty more days

But I will see you again
I will see you again a long time from now

And there goes my life
Passing by with every departing flight
And its been so hard
So much time so far apart
And she walks the night
How many hearts will die tonight
And will things have changed
I guess I'll find out in seventeen days

But I will see you again
I will see you again a long time from now

My body aches,
and it hurts to sing,
and no one is moving
And I wish that I weren't here tonight,
but this is my life

And I will see you again
I will see you again a long time from now

And I will see you again
I will see you again a long time from now