A Wild Wind Blowing Down The Corner Of My Street.

So it feels like the Northeast Monsoon is beginning to set in now - light to strong (almost 15-20kn!) winds from NE - ENE, and generally wetter conditions observed. Incidence of isolated thunderstorms should start dipping as the intermonsoon period grinds itself to an end. An end to the hot, stuffy days of intense heat and equally intense thunderstorms!

Time to prepare my alternative career as a weatherman now, to prune and preen in front of a camera day in day out, oh what a dream come true that would be! In all seriousness, though, what a relief it is to be back where you get to hear honest-to-goodness thunderclaps and see lightning rend the sky. I heard one instance of thunder in 3 years in the UK, which is not something I ever thought about until I finally heard it one day and was stunned to my very core. Fine rain, light rain, cold rain, no rain thanks be to God! Talk about uninteresting weather... We literally did talk about the uninteresting weather a lot more than was healthy perhaps sigh. I miss the place.

A little strange how just as winter is probably picking up back there shades of autumn start appearing here. Kinda glad to have this seafronting accommodation I can dubiously call "home" now to enjoy this slightly more habitable weather.

And so, life. Wild winds. Picks you up and drops you just as suddenly. Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.. When life's lemons give you AIDS or whatever, eh? When life's lemons do not give you aid, you just gotta suck it. Okay so maybe trying to think up variations on that adage is not nearly as fruitful (pun not even intended) a way to spend my time as it really should be.

The one unintended and much welcome effect of my long voyages to and from work has been the much needed time to read. Probably some of the only protected time I have to indulge in that most ancient art, and it is while I am in the midst of jostling with hundreds of people on the train. Life really does afford way too many distractions, especially in the way of the Internet. Why is it so hard to unglue oneself from the screen even when you know your time could probably be better spent any other way? Ah, an old lament to be sure.

This time on the MRT also lets me think, between pages, between books. How hard is it to find time to think these days? I go back home and I start watching stuff and waiting just for sleep to claim me. I go to work and wait just to go back home again. Which is kinda why I actually cherish days like this where I stay-in and have some sort of time, just as long as I forcefully unplug myself from my phone, from the internet.

Anyhow, here it is. The collected jumbles of thoughts and observations from the daily commute.

___________________________________

He came to a stop, suddenly confused, suddenly hearing what the man was saying.

"First rate stuff bro! Genuine one, no bluff."

Who are we? Who lies to passersby on an everyday basis in order to... what, turn a profit?

"It's just business bro."

No, he wanted no business in this world of just business.
___________________________________

He couldn't hear himself think. It was the city, all the friction of contact with all these people living in close proximity, all those silent abrasions, noisy encounters.

The seething writhing raging mass of the masses.
___________________________________

It was hard to dream with all that baggage. Baggage: the homogenized past and present of our youth.

The stifled dreams, normalized hopes. How hard is it now to imagine someone dreaming of a different future? A dream of his/her own, not merely that of the petty bourgeoisie, culturally ingrained, inherited from a generation desperate to not fail and therefore afraid to dream.

It is no dream, these not-dreams. Not-poor. Not-lacking. Not-a-failure. Not-sad. Not-childless. Not-lonely.
___________________________________

The sunset was particularly beautiful today, and we stopped, just like that, a five minute lull where we stopped thinking about work, the car, the mortgage.

We all know each day has the potential for boundless beauty, that hurtling at a speed of one thousand miles an hour about the axis of this earth and sixty-seven thousand miles an hour through space we are bound to meet something interesting along the way. But we choose to forget.

What's been buried even deeper is that people, too, are capable of great beauty. Yes, this seething writhing mass.

Maybe we never did want to bury all this knowledge, but we never had a choice, did we. Slowly we are smothered by this world, beautiful as it may be, by all the debris, the flotsam and jetsam of the various wrecks we've made of our lives. Until we die while still alive, screaming silently into our indifferent graves.

Until and unless we stop to see the sunset, to see each other, again.
___________________________________

Never so shockingly alive as when he stepped fresh off the plane, nor so desperately alone.
___________________________________

And if you, too, think these thoughts, then welcome! Welcome to being human.
___________________________________

Have a good night then, y'all.

Oh love, don't let me go
Won't you take me where the street lights glow?
I can hear rain coming like a serenade of sound
Now my feet won't touch the ground

To Guide Me Home.

When you get what you want but not what you need; stuck in reverse.

How frustrating it is. To know what I want and what I need and that no, they are not the same no matter how much I may wish otherwise. Ignite my bones indeed! It's strange to feel so helpless, futile, and strangely swept along... I've kinda grown to almost relish it, even. The predicaments you almost wish you never get out of. Ah, well - we'll see things out, somehow.

Quite apart from all that, life recently has been serving up much of the same dishes - work, predominantly and unfortunately (although fortune probably hasn't got all that much to do with anything) and friends, thankfully! Healthy doses of squash involved too, and quite a lot more beer drinking than I'd have expected of myself..

Good thing that professionally, at least, things have been going rather well I guess. Feel like I am currently at or almost at where I have to be right now - at least I'm pulling my weight. Even as I am typing here at 12.30am while my friends are working into the night haha.

I've had this odd sense of.. displacement ever since returning back home. What did I return to, after all? A career, family, friends, the future? That's what I'd begun to think in my final year - finally I'm going back home and resuming life once again! And so here I am. And? Sometimes it feels as if I'm running as best I can, but without realizing it I have led myself onto a treadmill, into a cage on a mousewheel. I'm not sure I fit in anywhere, anymore. Permanently transient. It's almost like something that's been cut out and stitched back - it's never going to be the way it was again. And perhaps that's the way it has to be. I guess I am figuring out what exactly it is I should be doing, what I want to do, all that jazz, except I feel waaaaay too fatigued to do it. Like all I do is get by, get by, get by. 3 short-long months and what have I to say of myself?

Okay dokes ta-ta all, then.

A Gift Of Mornings.

Well yes, I know, kinda cheesy post title (Charles De Yan, or Chuan Dickens..) but waddya know - the only reason I'm even trying to blog today is that I feel like I haven't actually used my brain for a while now. Once you're BFG (Back For Good) there's just too many ways to procrastinate, to tell yourself that okay next week I'll find some time to sit and write, to tinker about with my diary, to actually use any portion of my brain at all. But noooo, there's too much admin to be done, a myriad errands and tasks or plain lazing around thanks to the full blown fatigue of full time work. Quite apart from work (which is going decently all things considered), I have quite possibly done nothing of value at all over the 3 weeks since I've been back.

So, not that this is going to be of much worth either, but at least I have to give myself a chance to flex a wee bit of my cognitive functions.

Chronologically, I guess, was grad trip, followed by graduation. Too much really to cover, and previous posts on previous trips have borne out the fact that I am a horrible accountant i.e. my accounts of my travels have never failed to fail to inspire. Triple negatives, how's that for some random brainwork? I did cross entire continents, from the Nordic city of Oslo through Moscow, Lake Baikal, Beijing, and more, to Shanghai, a grand total of 8 time-zones crossings and a resultant seriously messed up body clock. The adherence to rail time instead of real time along the Transsiberian, the thousands of miles on the road, and much more too. Absolutely incredible stuff.

Graduation was, of course, surreal. It was odd to realize how many of the people at the ceremonies I'd have been seeing for the last time, possibly, forever. Bittersweet in the extreme. One, I guess, of the tradeoffs of studying in a foreign land. Exeter, too, unfortunately is not a place I am likely to revisit anytime soon, not least because a large majority of the people I have gotten to know there are likewise leaving it for good now. It did turn out eventually to be a massive photoshoot kind of, and I am immensely grateful to bel for gracing the occasion and graciously agreeing (tacitly) to be photographer of the day too! Wish I could attend yours come January!

Flew back via a circuitous route through Manila, a complete waste of time but not of money (the savings! why my return flight is not paid for I will never know). and went to work the very next day. Extremely rusty and almost starting from ground zero (again), it's been quite the learning process. And a good one too.

My grandma passed away last week, after almost 2 weeks of drifting in and out of consciousness having been admitted to the hospital for a fever. I guess everyone saw it coming, and my uncles/cousins even flew in from overseas to see her. It's a minor miracle she survived long enough to see all but 2 of her family/descendants.

It's a strange one. I was never close to her. Truth be told, I didn't like her all that much. All my life (or at least those that I retain sufficient memory of) she's been telling me to study hard, get a good job, and earn a ton of money. Emphasis on that final point. Which has been kind of grating at times. It's only been the last 3 years when I started visiting her at the hospital or nursing home that I interacted properly with her at all, although even till the very end I think she believed I was gonna end up as some high-flying ass-busting lawyer or something. I don't think that's gonna happen!

But no matter what she may or may not have meant to me, I realize how much losing her means to my dad. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for him, not least because I felt nowhere near as keenly the loss. What grief I felt I felt for my dad, a man who's lost both parents, a brother and a sister, all in the last 5 years.

With this as backdrop, the first time I visited my grandma upon returning to Singapore last month I thought these thoughts, whether appropriately or not:

Hospital bed:
Hey how are you hope
You are well
Or do I?
How easy it is to pretend we love
We fake our concern our care
For the possibly loved
The potentially not
Honest deceit.

Death bed:
Eulogy
Desperately
Sieving memory
For the good stuff
But the muck comes up too
Keep a straight face look serious
Say something profound
Lie.

NB: This is an abstraction, much of which I have just thought up just now, and has nothing to do with my grandma's hospitalization and funeral, except inasmuch as it provided the setting for me to think these thoughts. Not very good ones, mind you, completely unpolished, no cadence or anything whatsoever, just an outlet. A beginning, perhaps, to a return to form sometime soon hopefully!

Some other stuff going on too, that I am keen on thinking about, but it is 1:22am and another day of waking up at 5.20 beckons and I am pretty much already screwed sigh, but I shall at least try to mitigate some of my deadness by going to bed right now.

Let This Be Finished! Dead! ...Khattam-Shud.

Longest weekend I've had since flying back more than a month ago! But not one that I wanted. A disappointing turn, really. Supposed to close up for duty on Friday but didn't quite manage to pass my assessment, quite the blow both for myself and my poor friend on duty that day. It's a bit upsetting - I know I could and should have passed. "But no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, spread out our arms farther."

Think it's the secret, hidden (or not-so-hidden) ultra-lame-hipster part of me that makes me prefer that line over the actual closing line of The Great Gatsby. I think I've seen that one too often before even having read that book, and it probably featured in some "Best first/last lines in history of ever by super authors" or something. Don't get me wrong, it's a very fine line (pun not actually intended teehee)."So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." I was probably just grasping for something less well-known to latch myself on to. Ah, this post-modern life. How can what one likes/dislikes be governed by what others/strangers/masses like or dislike?

Apart from that diatribe on the quite bitter disappointment of Friday (and o how I underperformed) I've also faced some professional or indeed, absolutely unprofessional challenges. A bit of a rant, but I can't stomach having to do menial, brain dead taskings just because someone else refuses to put in that extra bit of work. I am willing to help for sure, I don't mind going out of my way to do so, but not in order for you to further your own social life/whatever other commitments. I'm not ending work late just so that you can secure on time - and it's not the work ending late that's the issue. I guess everyone at any workplace in the world experiences such things or such people, but that doesn't lessen the frustration anyways. Some people are just so oblivious/indifferent it hurts to interact with them.

Speaking of which... Maybe it is time to let things die a natural death i.e. let me no longer seek artificially to prolong. Khattam-Shud. It is strange how much... hope one pins on certain things so completely out of one's control. (Actually, if you're particularly optimistic, you might begin to think that you do have a measure of influence after all, but let us not consider that in this case.) It is odd how much one invests in so little. A wing and a prayer. But no more games. "Be careful what you wish for", I think I just read Haroun advise Luka in Rushdie's Luka and the Fire of Life - and how often do we as adults fail to heed just such advice, expounded in countless fairy-tales and fables? We never learn, or we never want to - because some wishes are worth wishing for, worth waiting for, worth wilting for, come what may, who can say.

But not this wish. Not at the fervent urgings of a stray note from Sgt. Pepper's esteemed band - the Beatles be damned. Sometimes the why of a wish matters more than the what of a wish. And if the former is suspect then the latter is inconsequential, a matter that does not matter. Why I'm going on at length here is because... because I know this to be true. But I have trouble believing it. Ah, when you know something but cannot bring yourself to believe it! That's when you know that wings have taken root, taken flight, somewhere in that gnarled twisted multi-valved organ. Oh yes, that inseparable burden, this life-giving soul-consuming organ we cannot help but need this side of forever. But that organ beats on, a boat against the current, and yet the past, the past.

And on to the inconsequential. I've had the good pleasure of reading The Great Gatsby, Haroun and the Sea of Stories, and Timequake. Fitzgerald, Rushdie, Vonnegut. Almost feel like a participant in some box-ticking exercise (perhaps I should stop railing against those sometime soon.) Excellent reads though, all of them, most intriguing of all Timequake, that intoxicating blend of autobiography and fiction, so smooth you can never tell where one ends and where one begins, or indeed, if any of it is at all real in the first place. Also came across the new Murakami book (be still my heart! and indeed it was still because) I did not buy, only because I had already in my arms $290 worth of books at that most charming of bookshops - Litteredwithbooks! Never seem able to leave that place without at least 5 books or so sigh yay sigh.

Also watched Sin City, kind of just a rinse and repeat almost of the first one, but stylish nonetheless. Not likely to make any new fans though, I don't think. Whatever worked for the first one worked for the first one, so I'm not sure what people were expecting A Dame to Kill For to be. And An Education again, for the first time since.. 09? 10? Carey Mulligan everything I remembered her to be, and more. Gush fanboy gush. Missed Begin Again and have this creeping sensation I'm missing Boyhood soon too, but hopefully I'll have a lenient enough week that I am able to catch that ridiculous timing of 9pm or so at Cineleisure. Taxis galore apparently, once you find yourself in the working world. Oh glamour where art thou. Seems as if I'm rushing everywhere only in order to be able to rush somewhere else. Where are my soirees and lounges and posh-ass adult things?

And that is the end of that, Eggheads. Khattam-Shud.

Grad Expectations.

Well yes, I know, kinda cheesy post title (Charles De Yan, or Chuan Dickens..) but waddya know - the only reason I'm even trying to blog today is that I feel like I haven't actually used my brain for a while now. Once you're BFG (Back For Good) there's just too many ways to procrastinate, to tell yourself that okay next week I'll find some time to sit and write, to tinker about with my diary, to actually use any portion of my brain at all. But noooo, there's too much admin to be done, a myriad errands and tasks or plain lazing around thanks to the full blown fatigue of full time work. Quite apart from work (which is going decently all things considered), I have quite possibly done nothing of value at all over the 3 weeks since I've been back.

So, not that this is going to be of much worth either, but at least I have to give myself a chance to flex a wee bit of my cognitive functions.

Chronologically, I guess, was grad trip, followed by graduation. Too much really to cover, and previous posts on previous trips have borne out the fact that I am a horrible accountant i.e. my accounts of my travels have never failed to fail to inspire. Triple negatives, how's that for some random brainwork? I did cross entire continents, from the Nordic city of Oslo through Moscow, Lake Baikal, Beijing, and more, to Shanghai, a grand total of 8 time-zones crossings and a resultant seriously messed up body clock. The adherence to rail time instead of real time along the Transsiberian, the thousands of miles on the road, and much more too. Absolutely incredible stuff.

Graduation was, of course, surreal. It was odd to realize how many of the people at the ceremonies I'd have been seeing for the last time, possibly, forever. Bittersweet in the extreme. One, I guess, of the tradeoffs of studying in a foreign land. Exeter, too, unfortunately is not a place I am likely to revisit anytime soon, not least because a large majority of the people I have gotten to know there are likewise leaving it for good now. It did turn out eventually to be a massive photoshoot kind of, and I am immensely grateful to bel for gracing the occasion and graciously agreeing (tacitly) to be photographer of the day too! Wish I could attend yours come January!

Flew back via a circuitous route through Manila, a complete waste of time but not of money (the savings! why my return flight is not paid for I will never know). and went to work the very next day. Extremely rusty and almost starting from ground zero (again), it's been quite the learning process. And a good one too.

My grandma passed away last week, after almost 2 weeks of drifting in and out of consciousness having been admitted to the hospital for a fever. I guess everyone saw it coming, and my uncles/cousins even flew in from overseas to see her. It's a minor miracle she survived long enough to see all but 2 of her family/descendants.

It's a strange one. I was never close to her. Truth be told, I didn't like her all that much. All my life (or at least those that I retain sufficient memory of) she's been telling me to study hard, get a good job, and earn a ton of money. Emphasis on that final point. Which has been kind of grating at times. It's only been the last 3 years when I started visiting her at the hospital or nursing home that I interacted properly with her at all, although even till the very end I think she believed I was gonna end up as some high-flying ass-busting lawyer or something. I don't think that's gonna happen!

But no matter what she may or may not have meant to me, I realize how much losing her means to my dad. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for him, not least because I felt nowhere near as keenly the loss. What grief I felt I felt for my dad, a man who's lost both parents, a brother and a sister, all in the last 5 years.

With this as backdrop, the first time I visited my grandma upon returning to Singapore last month I thought these thoughts, whether appropriately or not:

________________________

Hospital bed:
Hey how are you hope
You are well
Or do I?
How easy it is to pretend we love
We fake our concern our care
For the possibly loved
The potentially not
Honest deceit.

Death bed:
Eulogy
Desperately
Sieving memory
For the good stuff
But the muck comes up too
Keep a straight face look serious
Say something profound
Lie.

________________________



NB: This is an abstraction, much of which I have just thought up just now, and has nothing to do with my grandma's hospitalization and funeral, except inasmuch as it provided the setting for me to think these thoughts. Not very good ones, mind you, completely unpolished, no cadence or anything whatsoever, just an outlet. A beginning, perhaps, to a return to form sometime soon hopefully!

Some other stuff going on too, that I am keen on thinking about, but it is 1:22am and another day of waking up at 5.20 beckons and I am pretty much already screwed sigh, but I shall at least try to mitigate some of my deadness by going to bed right now.

And Where I Wander, Love Will Follow.

Well guys, I'm leaving for London and subsequently South America in just under an hour. I am strangely unexcited, which strangely is pretty par for the course before each of my big trips. I've got Singapore Day to attend tomorrow too, which has been pretty hyped over the past 2 months, so that's gonna be great too.

Just returned home (at 12.30am!) from a celebration of a friend's 21st birthday, which was incredible. I was the designated photographer unfortunately, using a camera I wasn't familiar with, and taking pictures of people. Who don't stop moving.. What a tough gig! But it was a great celebration of someone else's life, and an opportunity to stop and reflect on how much that person's impacted me over the past few years. Just a couple more months left in Exeter now!

Not much more to add really, just thought it'd be good to shoot off a post before leaving. And to pen down this great lyric from a new song we had in church the other day. I've been on a pretty nasty downward spiral these few weeks, an awful funk, and I've found it pretty hard to claw my way out of this one this time. I've been looking forward to today for a long time, when I can finally get out of the country and leave some of my burdens behind.

I'm not sure what I've got in store for me over the next few weeks, but I have to believe that it's gonna be good for me. And I do. And my God is a living God, my God is a loving God. Wherever I may go in this world, whatever I may decide to do, one thing remains constant, one thing never changes. The love of a Father that knows no distance, knows no bounds.

With that, I'm out.

Or How To Die At Life.

You don't know this I think you should
Life without you is not
Life and I have learnt the art of dying and I didn't even
Try to but I did and dying is surprisingly easy once you know
How we ate in silence but you were not there and I look around every
Street corner because it feels like
You might be there
You might be waiting
but
Every corner my life does not
Start again and what did you even smell like and how
Do I know who you are any-
more if you too have been
Dying?
I wonder where you might
Be where you could
Be while I sit here staring at the door because
I know that any moment you could walk through
And I will receive you
While I sit here by the phone because I know that you will call
Surely?

_____________________________

Okay so that seems completely random, and that's not entirely wrong, but it was inspired by viewing Mr. Nobody, a pretty good show starring Jared Leto. Incidentally I finally arrived at the 30 Seconds To Mars portion of my playlist, which consist of songs added almost 2-3 years ago now! How time flies, I still remember treating Spotify with considerable wariness and doubt.

As always, completely fictional account of someone waiting for the one, however that person was lost. No actual girl problems to speak of, because even my layman A level math can tell you that no girl = no girl problem. I also kind of feel lately like I've lost my voice, and I have felt kind of marooned lately so I thought I'd just throw this out there. Nothing of any deeper significance to it, though!

Have watched a slew of good, or at least fun movies lately. With the glaring exception of American Hustle. Don't wanna flame and sorry if you liked it but what an awful show. Okay so I do wanna flame. It felt so pointless, and definitely overhyped. Mega disappoint. Watched Prisoners, which was really good, and very Zodiac-y. Not sure if it's just cause of Jake Gyllenhaal though, but it was pretty noir. So I looked up neo-noir and finally watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, which was the most ridiculous fun. Somehow managing to spoof the genre while executing it very stylishly too.

Just realized it's less than 2 weeks till end of term. Meh. Singapore Day and my next trip coming up, and I haven't even uploaded my pictures from Christmas haha. Ho well. I'm gonna do that then, ciao.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend.

The funny thing about this post's title is that the word I have the most trouble with is the word "Friend." There's been something going on recently that I've not just allowed to happen, but am responsible for too. I've failed as a leader, a brother, a mentor. I've failed as a friend.

I'm not looking for any encouragement, or support, or to justify my actions, or anything. I don't want or need anything, I just need to write about this somewhere. Because this is big, this is significant, and I can't pretend it isn't going on. I don't need anyone to read or care about this, all I need to do is to unload.

There's been a critical failure in how I've been doing things. I've been a hypocrite. I've been talking about "leadership" but I haven't been practicing it at all. I've been talking about the need for critical thinking and looking at the big picture etc but that's not something I've managed to do. I've gotten personal and I've gotten emotional and I have had a negative effect on people. If I had looked at the big picture I should have recognized this ages ago, but I did not.

I've let my own agenda overshadow the "greater good", if you will, I've let my own personal wishes and expectations overtake the importance of friendship, of relationship, of community. I have discouraged and disparaged and dismissed where I was supposed to encourage, to support, to build up. I've created a poisonous atmosphere where the things that don't go according to my expectation are attacked, and people are afraid.

I fucked up.

That being said, however, don't worry about me beating myself up (and yes I am specifically addressing someone here). Of course I feel guilty and all, but I also know that's not the end-state. There's still something for me to do here. There's still the future to think about. So I'm not going to engage in any form of self-loathing to the point where I forget the point.

The question I really have to start applying myself to, that I almost have no choice but to answer, if only to satisfy myself, is what happens next. I have to have faith in a God who can undo the mistakes I've made, that however it's going to happen He is going to make things right. But I still have a part to play here.

There is a lesson to be learnt and it is shameful for me to have to admit it, especially in front of the friends whom I respect and value so much, but this can never be allowed to happen again, and what time I still have left to make things right I will attempt to do so.

In any case don't worry overly about me. I am self-aware enough to know when I'm crossing the line from a natural guilt to a self-indulgent self-loathing, and that is not something I will ever allow to happen. Of course I want to feel bad when I know I've done something wrong, but I also know enough to know that feeling bad and guilty and all that is worth nothing on its own. But you can't begin to set things right until you admit that something is wrong. So this is what this is. I can't lie and say I don't too have my self-destructive tendencies, but I also think that's something everyone has to deal with, and on that note I would say don't worry about me cause I'll pull through.

Might I be too late in coming to this realization? I am afraid of that. But I also have to trust that I'm not, that there is hope yet, and it doesn't come from me.

I have to learn anew what it means to be a leader. I have to re-learn what it means to be a friend. I have failed in both these regards, but I also have to believe that I can emerge from this better and stronger. I am not so brittle that this is going to break me, but I need to seriously reconsider so many aspects of my own life. Before trying to influence anyone else. I need to get myself right first.

As I mentioned, I'm not looking for suggestions, or for people to tell me how I've been a good friend/leader etc, or whatever you might think will make me feel better, because that's not what I need in this season. What I do need is wisdom, humility, peace. I do need help, so please do pray for me, that I may know what I need to do, how I need to grow. I need shalom peace over my life, because even as much as I am self-aware, this is still dangerous for me, in some way or another.

Thanks for reading this, whoever you are.

The Strength To Be Vulnerable.

This might get slightly rambly, or I might go to sleep pretty soon-ish, so I'm not entirely sure, but you have been warned! Kind of as a sidenote, I wanted to mention how I just realized it is the 100th anniversary of the First World War, only after stepping into Waterstones today and seeing the poppies ringed by books on the war.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.


And I also started reading about the crisis developing in Ukraine, a country I was on the verge of visiting just this last Christmas.It's hard to read the reports critically without feeling a strong sense of pro-West sentiments, and to discount Russian interests altogether as yet another example of a power-play etc. Who can say without bias which is true? I think there is a danger of being overly sympathetic to the west, and yet how much choice do we actually have? It is unfortunate, I feel, that so much of the anti-West/anti-interventionist rhetoric stems from the militant crusades (or so it seems?) of other administrations. Unfortunate, and yet these are undeniable facts, misguided excursions into Vietnam, Korea, Middle East etc. It's extremely difficult, if not downright impossible, to see past all these heated arguments from angry people from both sides of the debate.

That's not my main point here, which is that 100 years on from World War 1, we have here yet again another flashpoint in Europe, with the potential for enormous destruction, possibly. The irony cannot be lost on too many. It's too easy to discount it as politics, the results of a power hungry Kremlin, a weak Obama-led administration etc, because it has undeniably real life effects. How can we avoid the mistakes of conflicts past? From the Crimean War of the mid 1800s, which led, if not quite inevitably, but definitely in shaping the geopolitical landscape of the 19th and 20th century, to World War 1, to the alarming unfolding of events today. Stoked only by endless rhetoric, mind games, so called high politics. What have we learnt in the last 100 years?

Half a league, half a league,
  Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death,
  Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.

How close are we once again to the valley of death, how rapidly are we charging forward straight into the "mouth of Hell"? Sometimes you look at the human race and you despair. And it's not enough for us to say it does not concern us, does it not feel sometimes as if it's our humanity itself that's at stake? Just because we're geographically and politically (with which I would dissent) removed from Ukraine does not mean we can afford to simply ignore the entire affair and to leave it in the hands of the politicians.

I'm not saying there's all that much we can do about it, but at the very least we have to think about it. We owe that at least to... humanity, I think. We can't afford to just look upon such world events and think that just because it's out of our control, we shouldn't have to think about it at all. Such indifference will be the end of us as a collective, a dangerous step away from complete self-absorption, caring only about those 15 new must-try cafes or whatever. Yes, politics is boring and probably what we think or don't think never actually affects the outcome of events, but this is the fate of the world we are talking about. As ridiculously dramatic as that sounds, we do have a vested interest in the fate of Ukrainians half the world away.

I guess as a professional military man I have perhaps been conditioned to think about such matters critically, perhaps even strategically, and it might even be that it is part of my professional duty to do so. But I think it cannot be the case that something as potentially catastrophic as this be the domain solely of politicians and warfighters. I'd like to think that even if I weren't doing this job I'd still concern myself with matters such as these. Matters which matter. World affairs don't just mean things going on in other parts of the world, it refers also to things which affect the world.

I'm also thinking about things like national sovereignty, what does it mean, or even what is the point of it? Pit against the will of the people on the Crimean peninsula? How far are we willing to let the doctrine of sovereignty go, perhaps against the backdrop of human rights or other abuses? Peaceful annexation, inasmuch as such a thing can ever be said to exist, can that ever be allowed, or is that always evidence of weakness, of concession? It's not too hard to extrapolate the effects of those questions to our own nation, and if the answers are unimaginable to us.. Well, it doesn't matter what the answers are maybe, only that we actually spend time consciously thinking about such things.

In any case, there you go, some thoughts on the troubles brewing in Crimea, in the light of my recent belated discovery that it's been 100 years since World War 1. Wasn't actually the point of my posting at 4am in the morning but it feels too important to not do so. Was just chatting to a friend who said something (not on the Ukraine crisis) along the lines of, aiya it doesn't matter to us anyway lah, why worry? Ostriches and burials etc, hey?


I wanted, really, to write about (maybe to?) the friends back home whom I dearly love. And that is not a word I bandy about with impunity. I just had a Skype call with a couple of them lasting hours, and it was just about the most encouraging conversation I've had. Surprising, too, in many ways. Surprising in ways which surprised me, because surely 10-year old friendships can't have too much more in the way of surprises? Dead wrong about that, though. And gladly so.

One of the... ideals, I guess, I've always aspired towards is Strength. I think so much of my life has been dominated by this striving. Whether it be for intellectual strength, physical, moral even. But I never really knew what it was for. Strength for Strength's sake, it seems. And so much of my own conception of "strength" actually derived from my ability to not seem weak. Which seems like it should make sense, but I assure you that no adequate definition of strength can be had on that basis alone. Running away or avoiding the things you're not good at, the things you're unwilling to confront, is precisely what strength is not. And so, because I was not, or because I felt not, weak, I thought I had sufficient strength. Sufficient for what? and even then I was not too sure.

I think this ties in with my.. shall we say misguided, quest for independence. I wanted to be strong enough to be alone, and all my formulations of strength revolved around the idea of having enough strength for myself. Misguided, as I've come to learn only in the very recent past. Not needing people doesn't make you strong, it belies an inability to confront the reasons behind not wanting (or not wanting to need) people in your life. I'm not saying independence is wrong or in any way undesirable, merely reflecting on my own brand of it and my personal justifications for it, as they were. I sought to hide my greatest vulnerabilities behind a thin veneer of.. something, and I called it Strength.

So to link this back to the conception of this post, I feel as if I finally discovered a reason to be strong. And it is not merely for myself. If you can't be strong enough for the people you care for, then your strength is as nothing. If no one can rely on your strength, then what do you have it for? What I'm saying is that I have a friend who is hurting, and if I cannot in some small way help him or support him, then what for my "strength", my precious self-esteem and ego, my carefully constructed image? What are they good for when it comes down to crunch time? What for all this "growth", these searing soul-searching solo trips to Europe and beyond, all these accumulated experiences, all this time of rumination and reflection, if the only person who benefits from it all is myself? Can I possibly be that selfish?

I'd like to think not. I'm not saying strength is not useful until there are demands to be met, but you have to know what you're building up your supply for. It cannot be that you're building for the sake of building, surely? Just to be able to say you are Strong, or a Mighty Man of God. There's a reason for all this, for all these late nights, for all these things we have to endure, for the hurts and the pains we put up with day in and day out, the daily slog, all these "opportunities for growth". We were not made to live this life alone.

So in church today I heard that "You cannot serve others unless you're willing to be served by the Lord." Ouch. How many of us run around seeking to serve God, at some level (perhaps without even knowing it) trying for some of that "self-justification" we hear so much about? We do so much (or so we think?) to serve God, but it is in some way some form of defence against being served? Because surely if I can do so much for the Kingdom of God then I have no need for any help myself! If I weren't already there, God wouldn't let me do all these things for Him. And that's how we settle ourselves into this weird... complacency? or at least some form of self-satisfaction, some state of affairs we're willing to accept, that we're comfortable living with.

My immediate reaction to prayer calls is to look around for people to pray for, almost, and how much of that belies an unwillingness to be prayed for? Some reaction or mechanism within me that says, I have to be the strong one here! No one should see that I, too, have prayer needs, so I shall pray for others instead. Some sort of preservation of image even? I don't know. But it's almost as if I feel like I'd be judged were I to raise my hand one day, were I to ever be seen to be in need of prayer. How odd it is for church to be the one place where people would be unwilling to be prayed for. I'm speaking for myself, but I imagine it cannot be in isolation either. The dangers of church and the desire to be holy, to be seen as holy, the pressures of seeing everyone else who appears to have their own perfect prayerful lives. But that's not a church thing, though. It's a people thing.

Can I ever allow myself to be vulnerable? Can I afford to? No, I don't dare to. Slowly, however, I'm beginning to think that the answer is yes, but it's a struggle. I've spent far too long pretending to be strong, perhaps I even was, at times, for my defences to crumble so quickly. At a reflective, intellectual level I know one day I will have to open myself up, but how I resist it so. Something inside still tells me that no you can't afford to be vulnerable if you care too much you bare too much never ever expose yourself. Never.

I've spent years nursing that philosophy, putting it into practice, honing it to razor sharpness, fortifying those walls. But I've got to let it all go now. I am sure that it's holding me back, that it's unhealthy. I know that, and yet I am clinging on. Sometimes all the intellectual, logical conclusions flounder in the face of long years of habit, of well-established comfort zones.

Funny thing is, much as we'd like to pretend God doesn't know the things we try to hide, He does. The things that matter so much to us, that we think would affect our relationship with God in such a negative manner, aren't new to Him at all. He knows, and He does not love us any less for it. A beautiful message from back home on the Samaritan woman at the well, thanks to an awesome friend who's faithfully been sending me sermons week after week! How often do we conceal these dark, awful things, because you wouldn't love me if you knew? Perfect love cannot be without perfect knowledge, and perfect love operates despite perfect knowledge. A little bit paradoxical, perhaps, but no less true I think.

God truly does work in funny, incredible ways. I'm pretty excited about what we've got in store for us, I think. I've been meaning to start some sort of blessings or faith diary, some sort of record of God's faithfulness all these years, something to look to in times of need, but I've never gotten around to doing it. God's handprint is unmistakably all over my life, though, with or without such a record. It's something to hold on to.

I just watched a video by some dean of experimental philosophy, a criss-cross mish-mash of psychology and philosophy, on the nature of self, which was plenty interesting. So what these experimental philosophers do is apply scientific methods of psych to philosophical questions, with naturally fascinating results. And one of the notions put forward was that you are a very different person... any number of years down the road, say 10, so how is it possible to say that you're the same person, or what makes that person you? You have different physiques, beliefs, values, etc. Of course there's no such thing as a right answer, some empirical derivation of self, really only what people's perceptions of it are, but it's still worth looking into.

So I was just reading a couple of my older blog posts, from selected times in my life (because it is excruciating to read anything from 2007/2008 oh god) and sometimes it is hard to believe that I ever wrote what I did. And I have to wonder, who exactly was that? Sometimes it's just some phrases which are so incredibly dumb, things that at this point in time I feel incredibly embarrassed about (and this is the vast majority, unfortunately. or le sigh, as a younger me might have said instead. LOLOL.) Or I could even be impressed, incredulous, with some of the things in there. Could that have been me? I gleefully and amazedly asked myself.

Even considering.. wow actually it's 4 years ago now, so understandably there has been some form of paradigm shift (what a phrase!) in my life, my posts while I was still studying my ass off (I jest, but not really either) for A-levels. I clearly had no idea I was going to sign on etc, my future was still completely up in the air, and then exactly one year later I'd put my pen to paper and signed off close to 10 years of my life. There is a clear, fundamental change there. How similar can the Me of 2009 be with the Me of 2010? Wholly different belief systems (not completely of course, but some major change definitely had to occur), different groups of friends, different outlook in life perhaps, different relationship with my family, a complete sea change, pun absolutely intended.

So I guess it's alright to be embarrassed about my past selves, almost in the same way one is entitled to feel embarrassed about siblings or parents or whoever, someone with whom you have such a familiar relationship, and that definitely includes your past selves. Maybe it even means I don't have the right to delete the embarrassing posts, cause that's not me, not anymore, and that person as he was deserves to live on, even in the most painfully awkward of posts. How fancifully meta. I guess you don't get much more self-referential than this, hah.

One of the more interesting questions in that discussion was, if the person I'm going to be 10 years from now isn't me, then why should I save money, essentially robbing myself now to benefit this other guy 10 years later?! What an excellent discussion, a nice breakaway from days on end of gaming and stuff, and I actually felt myself asking questions, applying my mind. What a feeling.. Probably a little too abstract, too indeterminate of a field for me, but it sounds like a great field of study, if slightly confined to the world of academia I imagine. Who else but academics and philosophers (who are unlikely to earn a living outside of academia too) would truck around with existential questions such as these? Nothing but gratitude for such people though, even as I grow increasingly skeptical about the supposed altruistic aims of sponsored research etc. Even public goods/services are in thrall to consumer demand etc, it seems, but that's a completely separate rant altogether. I mean, pharmaceutical companies sponsoring biochem etc?!

Okay so my point is that I am understandably ashamed of my past selves, or at least some iterations of it, but also at times impressed by them. I couldn't write some of the stories that I did, can't imagine how I ever did, and can only hope that the converse is true too. Life is a funny thing, a year is a long time, and no one really ever knows how much they're going to change in any given amount of time, and yet the present feels so... big. Retrospect and hindsight almost always reveals our past issues to be laughably small, or at least much less important than we gave them credit for, but that knowledge doesn't really help you much in the face of current problems either. So I'm not saying to laugh off your problems in the present, cause undoubtedly the decisions you make today can have massive impacts on your life 20 years down the road either. I'm not sure what my point is anymore.. Except that I found it to be fascinating to think about. Oh well.

Just spent an hour or so reading this discussion about macroevolution and intelligent design and stuff. Somehow I'm reading everything except for my actual readings. Huh. Gotta take a nap now to rest my mind.

An Existential Despair Occasioned By Valentine's Day And Other Public Celebrations And/Or Declarations Of Love And Other Icky Stuff.

Just kidding pls, not in any way a sufferer of crises, existential or otherwise. In actual fact, I am spending my V-day today with a Girl! Unfortunately, said girl is fictional, and I am referring to the excellent Girl Genius webcomic which I've been ridiculously hooked on the past couple of days/weeks. It is also where I was inspired by the darkly beautiful words: Existential despair. What an absolute riot, random Occam's Razors and faux-post-modern outfits abound as well.

Well on Valentine's Day related topics.. Favourite awful pick-up line I've read in the past few days or so. "Heard you're looking for a stud. I have STD and all I need is U." BOOM. Blown away.

Actually quite surprised by how devoid of love my facebook and various other social media platforms have been today though. There's actually not too much "icky" stuff around, which is a little odd, and quite sad too cause some of them are true "aww" eliciting stuff!

I was contemplating doing another V-day trip this year, especially since it is a Friday too, but then it's my friend's birthday so I decided meh I should just stay at home instead. There actually are still many little places I've yet to go to around here, but the ridiculous 100mph winds around here recently have kinda managed to dissuade any notion of such escapades. Also I managed to lose my debit card so I am woefully under-resourced at the moment :(

I did go bouldering yesterday, and now I can barely feel my forearms. I am sadly out of shape, in dire need of some conditioning, and managed probably to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of schoolkids yesterday. Barely identified any routes I could do, and I depleted what little there was of my strength in just under 2 hours. The shame.. I might make it a weekly thing though, if only to keep up at least some semblance of a "healthy lifestyle". Yeah right... Did also play squash this week though, so I can safely say my body is not actually silently dying on me. My back hurts too. Although that might be from lying in my bed all day with my laptop, I'm not sure and I'm not getting up to find out..

Actually scratch that wholly naïve paragraph above about no love on facebook. What was I even thinking... I'm actually glad for V-day, and yes it is commercialized yada-yada artificial love-should-be-everyday and all that, but come on, I think we could all do with more days set apart for love, couldn't we? Okay yes, inevitably you will come across some truly-mushy hair-raising stuff, but it kinda feels worth it when you see the really beautiful ones as well. I especially like the ones by the older folks, supposedly so #clueless when it comes to technology, but clearly no less #inlove.



EDIT: Okay so this is 2 weeks late, and I was completely inundated (what a word) by lovey-dovey stuff on social media after all, so the world was functioning as per normal. Much to my relief/chagrin. Feel like I haven't been using my brain all too much (waaaaaay too much Final Fantasy X-2 for my own good..) so here are some completely unnecessary completely gratuitous coolz wordz like inundated, and chagrin, and gratuitous (I actually spelt that wrongly on first try unfortunately, which validates my brain-atrophy theory). And susurration. (Not even blogger dictionary knows that word, how wrong you are little squiggly red line.) It's an onomatopoeia! (Definitely cheated here, who knows this word anyways geez.)

Well, goodbye February, you were short and sweet like a 100g packet of McVities Digestive biscuits instead of a 200g one.

Anatomy Of A Phone Call.

"Hey."
"Hey back to you. (2s) Is something wrong? It's 1 in the morning."
"No... (0.5) no! Nothing's wrong. (0.3) Umm."

Yes there is. Something's wrong with me. Something's wrong with us. But I don't know how to explain it, and that is part of the problem too.

"Oh, right. (2) Okay then. (1.5) So... (0.8) what's up?"
"Nothing much.. (1.2) Just can't seem to sleep."

I don't know. I can't sleep. I want to hear the sound of your voice, but I am afraid to tell you that too. What's happened to us?

"Oh. (1.8) So you.. (0.5) you want to talk?"
"Sorry.. (1.8) It's okay. (0.8) It's late and you have work tomorrow."

I want to talk. I want to talk to you so much. But I don't think I can anymore. What happened to the days when we used to talk for the sake of hearing each others' voices? We'd talk about anything just to keep each other on the line. Must there now be something up before we call each other? When did our first reaction to late night calls become to assume something was wrong instead of that initial heady delight of yet more time together, airtime, anytime?

"Yeah. (0.4) Sorry babe, I had a really long day today."
"Yeah. (0.1) No, don't worry about it, I'll see you tomorrow for dinner yeah?"

I don't know when we became so apologetic to each other. So polite to each other. Like we've become afraid of offending each other, but we're afraid of admitting that we're afraid too. When did a love that seemed so strong become so fragile? Why can't we discuss our fears honestly any longer, when did all this fear about us creep in? Maybe if I figure out when and why and how it's happened we can turn back the clock. Maybe tomorrow can be the distant past.

"Mmm. (0.5) Of course you will. (2.4) Good night dear."
"...(1.2) Yeah. (1.7) Good night."

And sweet dreams. I don't know what's wrong, I don't know what's happening, what's happened to us. Tomorrow is going to be incrementally worse than today and I don't think I will be able to call you again tomorrow night. How is it possible that I've never felt more lonely than when I was on the phone with you? Why can't I seem to share what's going on with me here, now, when we used to share all our hopes and dreams, and fears too? I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I know it's not going to get any better. What happened to all the tomorrows we were going to spend, to the life we were going to take on together? What happened to the future we've forgotten?



*The numbers in brackets () are, in numbers of seconds, an attempt to capture silence as text.
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I read the other day this phrase - the sickness of long thinking - which seems to perfectly describe melancholia. Sometimes, at least, it does, I think.

A curious melancholy had settled onto me yesterday, as I woke up at 3pm and wondered what I was going to do with the remains of the day. A couple of clicks on my laptop later I stumbled upon the song White Fire by Angel Olsen, a dark, spare song which determined my mood. Which resulted in "A Tree, A Life, A Shout. Silence."

It is completely fictional, as I had not thought to point out, and it is not cause for alarm. Not something I'd expected, but looking back at it I can see how it might be concerning, so VMT Anonymous for that. I did reply in an entirely elaborate fashion, the point being, don't worry!

I have been fascinated for some time with the philosophical question of whether "If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?" as a metaphor for a person's life without anyone else around. No one to care for, no one who cares about. A life completely alone.

So that super-short story was kind of a thought experiment, and also one in literary style. Inspired, I think, by those gripping first-person narratives like Clockwork Orange or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, also the scariest ones. Guess it was way too short to have been obvious as a story, and fiction, and I wanted that element of dark, believable, realism.

And this here story is inspired in part by my stumbling on a completely new Mogwai song called Music For A Forgotten Future, linked from Angel Olsen to Sleep Party People to Mogwai's Take Me Somewhere Nice. Serendipity.

Also one of those thoughtcatalogue articles (have I ever mentioned how irritated I am by the proliferation of those on my newsfeed, as well as their declining quality I feel) which tried to explain the difference between being alone and lonely. Loneliness is most devastating when you're not supposed to be, when it takes you unawares, when you're not even alone.

That's what this story is about, hopefully. One big disclaimer here: Never been in a relationship myself so you know this is completely 100% fictional and possibly totally bogus as well. It is purely from imagination, trying to imagine what a relationship a-ways past the initial stages of being in love could feel like, what a phone call like that would sound like.

It is about fear, insecurity, fear of insecurity. Being too afraid to open up, being guarded with the ones you love the most. The people who care the most are the last people you're willing to open up to. Of caring so much you're afraid to let the people you care for know it. About distant pasts, forgotten futures.

It is not about me.

Hope you enjoyed it.

A Tree, A Life, A Shout. Silence.

some days you wake up at three in the afternoon and you realize it doesnt matter does it not to anyone at all. you have woken up and you are wondering what to do and you come up with nothing and there is no one to tell. you think your life is a mess and there is no one to tell you that no it is not you are beautiful and your life has meaning after all. you run a hot shower and you stand in there for five minutes ten twenty thirty and you think why should i leave. it is warm and it is comfortable here and what is the point anyway. you put on some music and you lose yourself in it and you think is that what its all come to to lose yourself to lose to lose to lose lose lose. you think about all the things you have lost the things you never had the things you have given up. you think that life is not fair then you think no life is not fair but it is not not fair that life is life and that is life isnt it. you think if only i could share these thoughts with someone if only i could share my life with someone anyone i might still be saved. you think a tree has fallen in a forest and of course there is a sound but so what so what if there was so what so what is the point. what is the point.

(I've Got To Give It Away.)

It's been quite a few weeks lately. Right after my previous post there was the Weekend Away, an incredibly blessed event where I had the opportunity to see so many people grow spiritually. A friend shared this verse with me, 3 John 1:4 which says: I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth. Which spoke powerfully to me, especially looking at my friends, and the people I'm supposed to be leading this year too. A great time for building friendships, for quiet reflection, personal growth, etc. 10/10 would do it again.

After that I had a slump-week actually, officially because I was tired from the weekend, but in truth probably because I was not just tired, but lazy. In fact it seems to me that the moments after certain breakthroughs are the most dangerous of all, something in the way my flesh just craves to go back to the way it was before. I pretty much finished 1.5 seasons of Breaking Bad, meaning I'm on the cusp of season 5 now! Seasons 3 and 4 were pretty awesome not gonna lie, 1 and 2 were a whole lot slower and less exciting.

I also watched 2 masterpieces of movies by 2 masters of the craft. Namely, Hayao Miyazaki and Wong Kar Wai. I watched Laputa: Castle in the Sky which has to be one of Miyazaki's earliest features, having been released in 1986! That's more than 25 years ago. But it boasts stunning artwork, an aesthetic that he clearly developed further in his later movies, and the beginnings of a fascination with sci-fi/nature elements that permeates all his movies too. Not as good, I'd say, as Howl's Moving Castle et al, but it was kinda like watching a first draft almost, and there is much to be appreciated in and of itself too.

I then (re-)watched 2046, which I first attempted probably 4-6 years ago? I was clearly waaaaaaaay too young for the movie back then, although it was a period in which I was watching some "art-house" films, and more often than not leaving completely confused probably. But seriously. What a movie?! It's so.. un-Chinese too, if that's even a term. Much more in the vein of Western directors like David Lynch, Lars von Trier, maybe Cronenburg, in terms of.. pure style maybe. An incredible aesthetic, great soundtrack, etc. It felt very much like Wong was directing what he knew to be his magnus opus, it was just so grand and ambitious. It might not be his best work, I think I like the understatement and restraint of In The Mood For Love (and Maggie Cheung) more, but you have to respect what he tried to do with 2046, and to a large extent, succeeded in doing. Not an easy film by any means, and it is obvious why I didn't get it the first time, it was even painful to watch, with themes my poor immature mind (back then) had no way of fully grasping. Unrequited love, longing, desire, unrelinquished pasts.. Heavy, heavy stuff. But those camera shots, wow. Insane to watch. Like half the movie is poster worthy or something. One of the most beautifully shot films I've watched, I think. Cinematography lessons.

I kinda miss the days when Facebook allowed you to choose what to display for your Likes, whether it was books, movies, singers, or TV shows. It was a form of self-expression, man. Which probably also speaks volumes about the importance of perception to me. I was really conscious/aware of my social media presence for sure. Now I'm pretty terrified. I'm just reading a book called The Filter Bubble which argues that the personalization effect of the huge cyber-corporations like Facebook and Google is one with largely insidious effects. It is a scary-ass book. And would you know it, here is Facebook rolling out their Personal Movie/Video for each and every single person on the network. It's easy to shrug it off and say whatever, I'm not affected and it's a cool feature etc. but in this day and age information is power, and there is clearly a disproportionate balance of it now, served further by the fact that most people don't see it as such and happily post stuff on fb et al.

Not that I'm afraid anyone's ever gonna wield it against me per se, but it is scary to think that each click of mine sends out a myriad signals and signifiers to potential advertisers, that my personality could possibly be completely captured within certain algorithms and programmes smart enough to interpret my actions on the net. For anyone with the slightest niggling shadows of doubts about such technological terrors, I would recommend the book to you, it's pretty easy reading and terribly illuminating. I'd be happy to loan it to you if you wanted too, which actually is a given for any book that I own cause sharing is caring and caring is good..

Actually the reason for my post and my title (brownie points if you can guess where it's from) is the fact that I just got my results from the spate of assignments/exams in December/January. What a faithful God have I!

Off the top of my head arithmetic tells me that I scored an average of 65% over 4 essays and one exam. I even got 72% for one essay, my first ever 1st-class grade EVER! Are you even kidding man!!!! I arrived back home on the 5th, first submission on the 9th, exam on the 10th, and then two more on the 14th. Less than a week for them all, and I scored exceedingly above far beyond my expectations for ALL of them haha! First time I'm so excited to get back my essays with the comments and feedback sheesh.

Slightly off-point here, but it was weird that upon opening the email and checking my results I had no idea who to tell, to talk to about it, except for my family. Also because I feel pretty awful for that CNY call cause I was playing DotA while chatting to them. No excuses there. But yeah, it is awkward that while I do have close friends here I'm not entirely comfortable sharing such news with them, unless they ask I guess. Possibly because I don't want to seem to be boasting/gloating? Because they're fellow students and the people whom I'm actually close to know how awful my working/studying habits are? Students are a competitive lot after all, even if it's not the initial response, or even intentional, cause inadvertently we compare ourselves against our peers, so it always seems insensitive to offer information whenever I do well.

I did do some spring cleaning today, even if the weather is trying valiantly to convince me that we are still in the throes of deepest winter, duh. Worst weather I've ever experience in Exe. Did not sweep with a broom so all good fortune retained. Or at least I think that's how it works. Back-breaking work, though.... Vacuuming, wiping down and giving my kitchen a thorough clean (oh that filthy, filthy place) and ironing my clothes, 2 batches of washing, inter alia, sheets pillowcases jeans. All I have left to do is the toilet. Public enemy no.1.5. Because 1) It resembles closely a public toilet and 2) No one wants to be its friend and 3) People do both their Number Ones and Twos there.

I am clearly veering very far off-topic (and off-colour to boot) so I think that shall be it for tonight.. Oh yeah I shall here append an... essay, article, write-up, whatever this is that was actually commissioned by an old friend, Deborah, for the NTU Sports Magazine or something. Completely out of the blue, and I kinda wrote it while I was really tired and dazed and confused, so it's not a particularly good example of travel writing unfortunately. Also some verbatim grabs from one of my previous posts too, only cause I ran out of ideas waaaaaay too quickly.

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Backpacking alone is scary. Most people who have never done it see it as quite an intimidating prospect, and inevitably there are concerns over safety, loneliness, and even boredom sometimes. For all the fears, it can be incredibly rewarding. I can’t pretend I’ve never gotten worried over those things, but in my experience so far, it’s always been worth it, and I’ve learnt so much from each of my trips.

Late last year, I decided to spend my three-week Christmas break traveling around Europe. My trip took me to 6 different countries and just about 12 different cities across Central Europe—from Austria to Slovakia, Hungary, Czech Republic, Poland and finally Latvia. Most of these countries were pretty cheap to visit, especially in winter, and it was surprisingly easy to get around as well. Language was less of a problem than I expected, since most people working in tourist-related sectors do speak English. At a pinch you could try to talk to younger, student-looking people as they’re more likely to speak English. Alternatively you could simply pluck up the courage to approach just anyone on the street.

Which brings me to one of the first lessons I learnt while on the road: Don’t be afraid to make a fool out of yourself. There is no better time to do that than when you’re traveling alone. Nobody knows you, and even the people you meet are not likely to ever see you again, so why bother with what complete strangers think about you? You never realize how much energy you devote to “preserving your image” until you stop doing it, and it is incredibly liberating. I don’t think anything offers as much freedom as solo travel.

Backpacking alone gives you freedom to do whatever you want and to go wherever you want. But with that said,  my second piece of advice would be :Don’t let yourself be constrained by anything, especially not yourself. I like to travel without having anything concrete in mind. Basically what I did this time was to book my flight to Linz, Austria, and back from Riga, Latvia. I had three weeks to figure out how to make my way to Riga and I didn’t really know where exactly I’d be stopping along the way.

“How is that even remotely a good thing?” you might ask. Well, it meant that I got to visit Slovakia, something I wasn’t sure I was going to do, and better yet, it meant that I got to fall in love with that beautiful country. I went from Vienna to Bratislava, thinking I’d spend maybe one day there since many fellow travellers told me there wasn’t too much to do there. Instead, a casual conversation with one of the hostel staff led to her convincing me to visit her hometown, Košice. I couldn’t get any direct transport there cause it was the Christmas period, so I decided to take a detour through the mountains instead.

Which is how I ended up in Ždiar, a little gem of a village in the heart of Vysoké Tatry, the majestic mountain range on the borders of Slovakia and Poland with more than a hint of Alpine grandeur without the hordes of ski-crazy tourists. A tactically placed brochure in my hostel in Bratislava alerted me to the presence of a hostel in the mountains, and so there was no excuse and I would never have forgiven myself for not going. Immense views, insane panoramas, exquisite hikes, hyperbolic pizzas…you couldn't ask for more. My favorite destination this trip, not least because I did not expect it at all. I ended up spending two whole days in the High Tatras and one in Košice, for a grand total of 5 days in Slovakia that I had not planned for at all.  

 I also spent more time in Krakow, Poland, than I initially thought I would, and got to spend a couple of days in Wroclaw too. None of which would have been possible if I’d had a fixed itinerary to begin with. Planning is overrated!

My third and final point is simply to have an open mind, and heart. You’ll meet many different people from all walks of life, and you might make surprising connections with people you never thought you could. You’ll be surprised by how nice complete strangers can be, and how willing people are to help each other on the road. Turn off your phone and stop eagerly looking forward to that next WiFi hotspot. Don’t take pictures or do things in anticipation of the  reception you’re gonna get on Instagram or Facebook. 

Be open to new experiences. On this trip I almost had to sleep on a random bench in Hallstatt (since I was unable to find a hostel), got smashed with some new friends at a local students’ club in Bratislava, bought a SGD$1.70 ticket last minute to watch the Nutcracker at the State Opera in Budapest, spent the last few minutes of Christmas Eve setting off fireworks with some fellow Singaporeans, trekked up Slovakian mountains, took in the  bleak, yet strangely uplifting experience of Auschwitz-Birkenau alone, etc. You can’t plan for all that, but you can create those opportunities. All it takes is the right attitude.

But there is a certain amount of downtime too. It is tiring. It is even boring sometimes. You do get lonely. You get lost and confused and there isn't anyone you know there to help you or comfort you. You choke up at the sight of something so beautiful and profound and there's no one to share it with. You finally make it to the top of the hill to take in the sight of the city below you but there's no one to celebrate with. You sit by the sea with a million thoughts running through your mind and there's no one to talk to.

But you do it anyway. You figure out yourself, you solve your problems, you internalize the beauty of the world because you don't have a choice, you didn't have anyone to blabber to. You learn to think without talking. You get used to you. You achieve things yourself without needing anyone to congratulate you. You start doing things for yourself and not for the adulation of others. I mean sure, you can boast about it when you get back but there's this feeling when you do something significant and realize that right at that moment, no one cares. No one knows to care. You finally arrive at the viewpoint which promises an incredible panorama, and it's taken you 2 hours to climb, and it was tough-going, but no one actually cares. No one even knows you're there, what you've done. No one but you. And maybe, just maybe, you start to realize that your self-worth does not, should not, cannot, be based on what the world says about you. It's not about the number of likes on facebook and instagram or the favourites on twitter. All that comes later, after you tweet your picture of the panorama, but that has nothing to do with the flush you got from achieving something yourself, even though there wasn't anyone there to "comment" on what you've done.

And you live through the bouts of loneliness. I'm not gonna pretend traveling alone doesn't get lonely sometimes. It's only natural, and if you don't feel even the slightest bit lonely I'm sorry but you're weird.. But it's just one of the many problems you'll face on the road alone. So don't be put off by that. I'm willing to bet that most of the time you'll find yourself so caught up with wherever you are or the people that you meet that you won't even realize you're not feeling lonely. You won't know till you try, so take a leap. 

Travel alone, or with friends. There’s no such thing as a “better” mode of travel. Life’s too short to spend it all cooped up on a tiny island, and there’s just so much on offer out there. It’s not hard at all. Go online and book a flight. Let what you’ve just done sink in. Welcome to the world.

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Was trying so hard not to sound pretentious, or prescriptive, or smug, or so many other things. Geez it's hard to write for an audience you don't know. And first time writing with anything remotely like an editor and expectations too, it was pretty fun even if slightly poorly done. I keep reading and re-reading it and feeling like it lacks a certain something, No clear direction, no real purpose in mind, reads like a rambling narrative without much real substance, which is why I decided to import that last bit from my blog cause at least that was heartfelt. It did make the entire piece disjointed though, and I was way too lazy to re-do the whole thing. Welp. I hope it's at least half-decent and acceptable, although I do feel kinda bad cause I feel like I could have done so much better. Oh well spilt milk and other beverages. Cy'all.