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.