轻松

今天，我挺享受生活的。开心，音乐真美好。觉得变成了我满意的人。轻松，有信心。好像明白了一个道理 －如果自己以足够，就不会害怕，不会着急，不会一直需要对群众证明什么。那样就轻松了。

Homo Hystericus

From Milan Kundera's Immortality -

"It is part of the definition of feeling that it is born in us without our will, often against our will. As soon as we want to feel (decide to feel, just as Don quixote decided to love Dulcinea), feeing is no longer feeling but an imitation of feeling, a show of feeling. This is commonly called hysteria. That's why homo sentimentalis (a person who has raised feeling to a value) is in reality identical to homo hystericus.

This is not to say that a person who imitates feeling does not feel. An actor playing the role of old King Lear stands on the stage and faces the audience full of the real sadness of betrayal, but that sadness evaporates the moment the performance is over. That is why homo sentimentalis shames us with his great feelings only to amaze us a moment later with his inexplicable indifference."

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My church back home is a mega church. Coloured lights, a 3D screen, a choir of backup singers and an arsenal of musical instruments accompany worship and praise. People speak in tongues, cry, raise their hands up to God and kneel in supplication. The air is charged with yearning, the prayers and the beats driving the energy up towards an undefined peak. At 7pm sharp, the pastor signals the musicians to stop playing, says a closing prayer and the lights come on. In the seconds it takes for our pupils to constrict and dilate, normalcy is restored.

I always feel a tinge of betrayal at 7pm on Saturday nights back home. The ability for hysteria, or religious fervor to be controlled with such precision makes me doubt the authenticity of it. It frustrates me to watch my neighbours put down their arms, wipe the tears off their face, and then offer suggestions about dinner. Borrowing Kundera's words, their great emotionality during worship shames my lack thereof, and the abrupt shift into indifference amazes me.

Kundera in the above passage has captured perfectly the ambiguity of feeling. Feeling, based on its etiology, when coloured by the force of will, changes in its composition. I do believe that for a large percentage of us, the religious fervor ignited in us during worship and praise is real. I believe that in our brains; dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine and a whole host of other neurotransmitters are firing at rates different from baseline levels. The feelings that we experience in church are real. They exist.

We go into church every Saturday or Sunday wanting to feel God’s presence. We pray at night, begging him to respond to us. Our worship leaders, our pastors, and spiritual authority want us to be touched by the Holy Spirit. We want to feel Him. There is so much desire to feel, such yearning, that it changes the substance of feeling into hysteria; the act of conscious want modifies irrevocably, the original feeling. I would not go so far to call the emotion, which arises in our bodies at the appropriate times during church - a show. It is though, an imitation; a lackluster substitute for the substance that arises in us, untouched by our will – pure feeling.

I do believe in the existence of pure feeling in worship and praise. I know that it is almost unchristian to call the desire to feel God's presence a pollutant of true feeling. However, the human desire to feel spritual fervour has a different etiology from the desire to be in God's presence. Wanting to feel a sense of transcendence is different from surrendering to god and the emotions that follow. I admit that it is difficult to draw the distinction. The intense desire to feel God's presence can easily be misdirected into a desire to feel hysteria as a means of satisfaction or cognitive dissonance. I just want pure feeling. I want to be able to remove from my emotions - my will, and the will of others. I want to squash my desire to feel for the sake of feeling. Perhaps then pure feeling ignited by God, will burst forth from my heart. 

Ironically, in this elevation of pure feeling, I am raising feeling to a value, which would make me a member of the homo hystericus.

- On a side note, I wonder what this would mean for cognitive restructuring in psychology. Everything about cognitive psychology involves reaching into our thoughts (which lead to feelings) and manipulating them to become more positive, or reinforcing. I cannot deny its good treatment outcomes. However, as anecdotal evidence form someone that practices cognitive restructuring a lot, I do feel that my manipulated emotions are similar to hysteria. There is forced quality to it, that when pushed to become real, crosses that boundary into oversaturation. I would think that for someone suffering as a result of negative cognitions, even hysteria would be better for their functioning than the genuine authentic feelings dragging them down. 

A Lifelong Marathon

A lifelong marathon.

I am someone that is intrinsically motivated by self-discipline. I love it. I get off on it. I want to see it in me, and I savor it in other people. My obsession with it probably stems from the fact that I am a lazy, floppy and chronically sleepy person.

Today as I was doing my bible reading, I looked at the date that I had scribbled on the top right hand corner of my notebook and saw 8/10/2012. I then proceeded to flip backwards to see how many consecutive days of bible reading have I managed thus far. 21 days. A little bubble of self-satisfaction was starting to emerge in me, when the phrase "A lifelong marathon" popped into my head, and squashed it. I made it 21 days. I have tens of thousands to go.

For tens of thousands of days to come, I would have to make the right choices to engage in good, healthy and godly behavior such as working, running, eating right, sleeping well, going to church and being nice. Just the thought of it is enough to make me want to crawl back under my covers. However, there is a little glimmer of light on the horizon. All of these things take a conscious effort to maintain right now, but our brains are much too clever to put us through such arduous pain for long.

- Automaticity is the result of learning, repetition and practice. It is the ability to do things without occupying the higher functioning of our mind. It is the miraculous stage when self-control turns into habit. -

I believe that we are all running a lifelong marathon. It takes conscious effort, self-discipline and self-love to continue running. There is no reward without struggle. No fit body without exercise, no knowledge gained without studying and no growth in god without first knowing his word. However it does get easier as we go along. With learning, repetition and practice, making the right choices become habitual and less effort is expended on struggling between choices. Getting good at something brings a sense of fulfillment and self-efficacy which reinforces the behavior.

Maybe a few hundred more days would get me there. ;)

P.S.

I came across this phrase in my cousin's fitness blog the other day. To credit him a little, here is the link to his page. http://www.edwinchew.com/readmore.php?id=106

Aphotic Rendezvous

I found this quote on dictionary.com

"I sat curled up on the sofa, trapped in the dream from which I had begun to awaken, but still lost in the reminiscence of our aphotic rendezvous."
-- Žakalin Nežić, Goodbye Serbia

Firstly, I feel like I have to read Goodbye Serbia now. Secondly, I cannot help but wonder how an "aphotic rendezvous" would feel. Better yet, I wonder if I have already experienced the likes of it.

On a side note, there was a line on Gossip Girl the other day that had me chuckling. (I know... Gossip Girl... forgive my simple pleasures)

Diana: "I am a woman who has lived, of course I have secrets."

Identity Foreclosed

James Marcia, a developmental psychologist came up with a theory called the Identity Status Theory.

In it, he claims that there are 4 identity statuses of psychological identity development. These are determined largely by the choices and commitments made regarding certain personal and social traits.

Identity achieved: Refers to when one has gone through crisis and made a commitment to their final decision/identity.
Identity foreclosed: Refers to when one has not gone through any crisis, but made a commitment to their final decision/identity.
Moratorium: Refers to a state of crisis where the individual has not committed to anything as yet.
Identity Diffused: Refers to a lack of crisis and lack of commitment to any form of decision/identity.

I feel like most of the decisions that I have made about my life are made by commitment without crisis. I fear the crisis and the struggle so much, that I tend to reject moratorium and instead make a commitment to the nearest and most feasible possibility to alleviate my uncomfortable state of mind.

Using the apt phrasing of someone I know - I make decisions based on convenience. It is convenient for me to pursue a path in clinical psychology, it was convenient for me to take the STB scholarship instead of researching and applying for more alternatives. It was convenient for me to only date people that would eventually be on another continent. (no mess) It is convenient for me to stay on at City Harvest, despite my objections.

This is all very out of character for me because I have been someone that prided myself on always being in crisis, thinking hard and caring about the decisions that I eventually make. Now, I am starting to realise that I only struggle for the shortest of times, then, without coming to any resolutions about anything, decide on commitment. When there is an easy way out, I take it... and then convince myself and everyone around me that I have thought long and hard about it.

Foreclosure is not a stable identity stage because resolution without crisis, is all too easily challenged with a few piercing thoughts and doubts.

I am terrified though, of never getting out of moratorium. There just seem to be some decisions in life that one can never find a satisfying answer for.

The beauty of relatable literature

I was browsing through some of my Kindle clippings, looking for a particularly good paragraph that I found the other day, when I had a moment of abashed self awareness.

I realised that there was this common thread running through most of the passages that struck me with their beauty and/or truth. They were all related to the most ruminated on and rehashed issues of a young adult's life - the prioritizing of ambition or love, the fulfillment of life's potential, the search for a home and what it means. I don't think these passages have helped me come to any sort of reconciliation or revelation. However, there is a wry kind of sweetness that fills my heart when I think about my participation in this communal cognitive rite of passage.
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That was her trouble then - She dreamed of a greater kind of love than the kind displayed in the library. But she was also filled with a nameless ambition that had nothing to do with love. What exactly did she want? It was an ambition that wouldn't let her compete for or seek the same things others sought.
- Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese


The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work, 
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.
- The Choice by Yeats


Droll thing life is, that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself that comes too late, a crop of unextinguishable regrets.
- Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad


I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and sanction... It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth... Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are false, but only three are holy: "I will it!" Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me... I know not if this earth on which I stand on is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I care not.
- Anthem by Ayn Rand

Wasn't that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted?

- Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese

This one is not from a book, but a movie, nevertheless, I think it fits in here. From Garden State -
Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew: You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.
Sam: Maybe

Bullsh**

Contradictions. Of late, within the personal domain, I have been excusing inconsistencies in myself and the people around me with the two words "human nature". I do understand and accept that human beings are mostly irrational and unpredictable creatures.  After all, who better than a psychology student to point out the fallibility of human reasoning. This particular trait is not conscious or intentional on our part. Our minds are just masters of wrongful attribution, memory tweaking and delusion. These actually help us maintain our self-esteems and decent mental health.

I however, am starting to get fed up with such ridiculousness. As we get older, it just seems as if everything can be explained away by admitting human fallibility, it has actually become the mature and scientific point of view. Inconsistencies in speech and thought now seem to be fully excusable and understandable. Honestly, it drives me crazy. Inconsistencies in people make me mad. Consistency should be a trait that we should strive for. The existence of consistency makes us accountable to at least a semblance of reason. It makes a person more predictable and dependable. If we all get to change our minds and our actions whenever we want, there would be absolute chaos. No one can be trusted to keep to their word, every comment or sentence that comes out of our minds would only hold for that particular second and situation.

I know I am catastrophizing here... but I kinda just want to hear something that someone says about their personal life and trust that it is not going to be bullshit in a month or two.

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.

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 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.

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

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.

Lessons learnt this holiday season

I have been tested and I failed. For someone that prides myself so much on self love, I failed myself. For that, I am sorry. When a door closes, another one opens. The glaring deficiencies in my character were revealed to me as I stomped on my own heart.

I will emerge more patient, loving and less self centered. I think I can finally wait. I will wait for what I want. I am willing. Its a character I will play. Meanwhile, I'll practice being unselfish, I'll practice giving and not receiving. My priorities will be set right.

I am going to be better.

My Silver Shimmer

I've always had a firm belief that even though I wasn't one of the golden people in life, I was a shimmering silver star in my own right. I shone with a determined glow, a glow that intelligence and ambition recognised.

These days however, I feel as if the glow is getting steadily snuffed. I was a child and a teenager with much potential, I coasted along on it and grew in complacency. Now however at the brink of adulthood I'm starting to realise that potential can only take me thus far and instead substance has to make itself known. People no longer look at me and search for what can be, instead they expect to see what should already be there.

The past few jobs or endeavors that I've undertaken have left me feeling short at best. I don't seem to possess the substance to succeed as an adult. Perhaps I have to start over, learning my limits and trying not to be impeded by them. Maybe I've finally learnt humility. Either or, its a hard lesson to stomach.

The possibility of a different sort of life

Today a good friend of mine reminded me about a pair of high school sweethearts I used to hang out with.

He said that when someone asked the female counterpart about what she wanted to do later in life, she said... "Marry Male counterpart". Such an amazingly secure life they both have. They are currently in university studying to be professionals, assured of financial comfort and emotional success.

It made me reflect on my situation. I'm in Shanghai, my future uncertain and uncomfortable. My poverty has resulted in 1 or 2 meals a day (Bread and cheese for several meals when I really am broke). My future destination is riding on whether or not I get a scholarship from Hong Kong. It’s a scary life. I have about 3 continents between my guy and I. Uncertain professional life, uncertain love life, and a distant idea of home. But … I chose this life. I don’t think I can be fulfilled by anything less than this.

I worry about losing my youth, my talent, my potential. I worry that my brain isn't getting the stimulus it needs.

Its human to dream of different possibilities, I guess that's why I like the Parallel Universe Theory so much.

A spiritual calling

I feel like I'm always clutching at straws, trying to feed the various needs that I have.

Christians term that gaping hole we have within us the "God-shaped hole". They say that the emptiness we feel so poignantly can only be filled by god. Perhaps that is true. I guess for non Christians they would rather not call it a god-shaped hole. I believe its a spiritual calling.

As human beings we are always trying to paint the colours of the wind, to attain deep satisfaction from a cup of coffee, to feel something buried in the core of us. Something we cannot grasp physically but we just know exists, that search, that is what makes us different from animals. We turn to religion, to music, to literature in search for that spirituality. Some surface seemingly contented, others bubble with dissatisfaction and pronounced yearning.

Spiritual beings... I like that we are spiritual beings.

The figure

The figure danced down the straight expanse of concrete. Her body writhing, twisting and bouncing. Her limbs angular, popping and lashing. The pulsating beat visible in her every movement. Her feet pounded against the ground, her hair swirled and flew. She looked odd, freakish yet her oblivion so entrancing. What tune played in her head, what beat controlled her body?

Strangers

I looked around me and I realized that I was surrounded by strangers. People that I barely know, people that I cannot depend on. Its a strange feeling being around strangers all the time. Its like a slow displacement... a gradual fading away. I feel like I have exchanged my roots for something that is starting to seem unworthy. I always thought I was made for greater things, made to see the world. What is the reality of being out in the world? Uncertainty, doubt, strangers, foreign landscapes. How long can I live like this? Can I bear to look yet another stranger in the eye?

Issues

I have issues with
-gender
-family
-religion
-pride
-confrontation
-seeing that I'm in the wrong...

It must be hard being in a relationship with me.