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  • Just a bit more

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    Just a little bit more (one day and 2 exams) to summer holidays. Wait for me~~~ At this point i’m beyond panicking for finals. All i want is for it TO END. So i can go home and do absolutely nothing before i start doing everything else that matters. And this is something i’d say only this semester because my grades are currently cushioned right in the middle of a class. So no unless i do drastically bad/well, it probably doesn’t make much of a difference lololol.

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    The fun part about finals is having friends randomly drop by, giving you exam welfare, being able to see them in person after months of busy schedules. I really appreciate every minute i can get with you guys. This holiday i will bug everyone to no end to make up for the lost time.

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    Today i asked myself, in my Travelling Time of Introspection, what i’m doing all these for. I’m studying psychology for myself, that’s for sure (because if left to my parents they’d want me to be a lawyer or some corporate big shot) – that’s where my interest lies and i cannot envision myself satisfied majoring in anything else. I’m doing this for my parents, for the amount of time effort and cash they have invested in me. It’s part filial piety part guilt, i feel the need to repay them and also to make sure they live a comfortable life once i’m able to provide for them.

    Surprisingly there was another motivation that’s always been latent but never explicated until today. I want to do sufficiently well so my future kids can have a great childhood. It’s not about wanting to spoil them with unlimited toys and a huge house (although i’m probably that sort of mom), but sparing them from any financial worries in their formative years. I want them to live as securely as possible as long as they’re under my roof.

    So.

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    SUMMER HERE I AM SO CLOSE ICE-CREAM, THE BEACH, AND HAPPINESS EVERYDAY!

     

    Except not really i want to get a job kthnxbye exam soon.

     

    May 5, 2014

  • 诗

    in a stray conversation with a friend recently, i uncovered my ability to recite the 三字经 , 木兰诗, and a large bulk of 唐诗三百首.

    in primary school we were made to memorize all these in class. rather ironically the convent school i was in had an excellent panel of mandarin teachers. by excellent i mean by the standards of us chinese: strict, passionate, demanding, unrelenting, and thoroughly intimidating. i say this in the most respectful way possible.

    at that time it seemed like sadism – why would they want us to memorize things obviously beyond the scope of our syllabus, and how do they expect us to retain that much? well i’ve proven their foresight right in this regard: young minds are bloody sponges. i haven’t read an entire paragraph of chinese since 2009 and there i was spewing 孟洁然 like it was my life song.

    more surprisingly was that i understood these poems. when and how they managed to cram 300 poems into our brains along with their underlying meaning i have no idea, but they did a good job. although… admittedly my memory (especially for conversations) is quite extraordinary; i used to recite commercials verbatim to entertain friends. anyway.

    on hindsight, i am rather grateful they’d tortured us that way. torture may sound like a hyperbole but in truth it wasn’t so far from it. we had our ears twisted and collars pulled, had insults yelled at us in front of the class, given impossible amounts of homework. but somehow we got through because we were children from the 90s and we just take this shit.

    revisiting these 唐诗 makes me appreciate how beautiful they are, really. i should read more of them.

    April 30, 2014

  • Careless Curation

    i’ve always been bad at keeping sentimental gifts.

    once i left a note Zephyr gave me – pastel with whimsical animals edged around her curly, purple letters – between pages of a library book. funny story, really: her friend picked up the exact book, saw her name, and passed it to Z — who then gave it to me (a second time) quite amusedly.

    i’m the same way with all other memorabilia i receive – letters, postcards, cute doodles – they dissolve into shelves and under my bed. if i had kept them all it would be quite a pile, frankly, given that i’ve spent 10 years in girls’ schools and the next 2 surrounded by girls’ school girls (Nanyang).

    sometimes i wonder if my carelessness is callous, but the truth is i do love and appreciate all these little things given to me, as much as i love giving them to others (i do this a lot… spontaneously and with any scrap material i can find).

    most of my closest friends and family are sentimental object hoarders. my family has two cabinets full of purely photos, organized in chronology, stashed in event-indexed albums. they date from my mom’s childhood all the way to my late primary school years (after which digital photos took over).

    Vanessa amazed me once over at her place, when she dragged out a HUGE box (although chest would be a more appropriate description) of sentimental artifacts she’d collected over the years. i saw many of my own in there – birthday cards, scraps of paper we played hilarious hangmen games on, notes we passed in class (even though we sat together LOL), random quotes encouraging each other for exams.

    while i was duly impressed at her diligent, even manic, safekeeping of memories, V’s calmness told me she didn’t go out of her way to collect them, it was simply in her nature to do it.

    and for some reason i’m the complete opposite. nothing stays with me for long. spring cleaning is often an archaeological adventure for me: i excavate random bits of yesterday (a technicolored, tassel-ed scrapbook G gave each of us, a series of short stories co-written by C and i). and then they shuttle back into the unknown.

    the memories i keep are digital and transcribed into words. i keep moments and quotes on my blog, the precious ones i want to revisit years later. it doesn’t have as much of a sentimental value as physical objects – authentic proof of the time – but they work for me. maybe because reading my own words reinstates the time more concretely for me. i don’t know.

     

    April 28, 2014

  • Smarts

    i’ve always imaged myself dating someone incredibly intelligent.

    there was never a time ‘VERY CLEVER’ wasn’t stamped at the top of my criteria list, or when i wasn’t drawn to the most sardonic smart-ass in the room.

    my deepest unrequited crush was on a tutor quite a few years older who never had a nice thing to say to me, but had a brilliant mind. that obviously didn’t work out because i was so consistently infatuated/in fear of his wit i couldn’t speak intelligibly (much less intelligently).

    ok that was years ago, though. now i’ve nabbed myself a Justin. and god i’m glad i found someone who’s sustainably intelligent… without being romantically apathetic or emotionally abusive. sometimes i’d grab his head and profess my love directly to his brain. ya i’m weird that way. #srynotsry

    just this weekend alone he impressed me all over again.

    i like to ramble on and on about psychology stuff i’ve learnt in class or read off my extensive psych rss feed, and J – unfortunately for him – is the primary victim of my psych-gushing. there’s a bunch of questions in our lecture notes dealing with errors in human reasoning, etc. that we’re expected to answer incorrectly (and which most of us psych students did during lecture).

    i was gleefully trying to watch him fail like the rest of us mortals but he is not fun. at. all. because he gets everything correct and also has the annoying nerve to go: “isn’t it obvious?” if i wasn’t so turned on by smarts i would slap his smug face. how does one just circumvent all the reasoning heuristics that cripple us normal human beings!?

    this is also the guy who tried explaining the speed of light as a universal limit and its effects of causality: pretty much the things he enthuses about when forced to talk me to sleep (i like falling asleep to other’s voices). also i make him do my electrodynamics/relativity homework for me (USP science module don’t ask), because what’s the point of having a geeky s/o without a bit of exploitation.

    ok but the last straw was when he managed to resolve what had been bothering me for days. THIS:

     

    the diagram claimed to have found a way to maximize a block you have (chocolate, gold, wtv) by literally cutting corners. and then repositioning them to obtain its original state with an additional 1 inch block. HOW CAN THAT BE RIGHT? BUT, SO CONVINCING.

    i’m horrifying with spatial problems (mental rotation and navigation impairments as rock solid evidence), so while intuitively i knew it wasn’t possible, i couldn’t figure out why. so i made use of my external brain (Justin) and got my answer in a couple of minutes. was in complete awe of myself. yes myself, because i abducted him and by extension his intellect. it’s now my property i’m holding it ransom.

    for every crush and hopes of dating upwards on the IQ scale, though, there’s one thing i didn’t consider but found in J and now appreciate very, very much: interpersonal intelligence. particularly, awareness.

    i mean yes, we all do stupid and irrational things at times but it’s always forgivable as long as you aren’t completely oblivious to it. i like that J is constantly aware of the dumb things he does/is doing. Justin i’m sorry for making you sound so bad, i swear this is my attempt at a compliment.

    it struck me when he said one day: “you know i can tell when you’re not ok right.”

    i hadn’t realized how adept i’d gotten at bottling up my annoyance at other people. there is literally no other person i can’t camouflage my vexation from. it’s such an unhealthy habit, i know, but i’ve gotten so used to it. because i’d given up on other people realizing why and how they’d annoyed me, so i’d rather not show it.

    but he knows, every time. whether it’s at him or at something trivial and frankly quite silly (like an over-seasoned, over-priced, unsatisfactory meal), he’s perceptive enough to pick it up.

    once in class we were discussing the how much we want our s/o to know what we’re thinking without us having to explicate it — basically relationship mind-reading. maybe it’s selfish of me, but i need it and expect it from people. i loathe explicit confrontation, so whoever it is has to be aware that something’s wrong, figure out what’s wrong, and find a way to fix the wrong.

    sometimes the ideal girl/guy we’ve always wished for can fall short and sometimes they come with a nice bonus.

    April 27, 2014

  • The Church Thing

    So, i opened WordPress today wanting primarily to write about Freddi Fish and how incredibly happy i am to be reliving my childhood again, but –

    i feel like the Leaving the Church post warrants some sort of proper addressing, if only because i’ve gotten such reassuring replies. so, things.

    1.

    i was pleasantly surprised by how most if not all believers who commented/ contacted me in some way were very accepting of my views even if they contradicted theirs. also nice was the emails that told me how they could identify.

    may not have replied to all, but i really really appreciate the responses. so thanks everyone.

    2.

    when i started writing that post it was intended to be just a personal observation, not such a general commentary on God and church. but if there’s one thing i do chronically it is DIGRESS (ref: attention span issues).

    since this is what most people latched on to doggedly i guess i’ll give a little context about The Joss Sticks Issue.

    in church 5 years ago, we were given a checklist to tick off and assess how ‘sinful’ we were – meant to induce spiritual improvement by changing aspects where we have sinned. these included thoughts, activities and behavior. one of the columns included joss sticks burning (there were many, many others).

    i remember the amount of unease i felt over my faith, although i clearly believed in God, loved God, and tried my best to live out His words in practice. now, on hindsight, i feel indignant that a young Christian should be made to feel like her faith is inadequate based on such irrelevant factors.

    you may argue that it isn’t irrelevant. but does it really matter if ultimately i believe and love God? is it necessary to prioritize these peripheral acts over internal beliefs, inducing guilt that doesn’t benefit one’s religious faith?

    perhaps such a conflict can only be concretely understood if you’d experienced something similar.

    every time i was made to pay respects (the buddhist way) in my family, all i could think of was “Sorry God, sorry God, i don’t mean to do this”. but what i was apologizing for wasn’t for idolizing other gods (because i didn’t) – i was apologizing just for going through the motions of holding joss sticks. is that really a sin?

    according to what the church then told me – yes it was.

    i felt guilt both from not carrying out due respect for my ancestors (because my thoughts were dominated by how sorry i was), AND from carrying out an act of idol worship God was said to forbid.

    reading some of the replies, it’s clear that not all churches hold equal stances about these superstitious acts. some prohibit even the act of it, some discourage, others may allow it as long as it doesn’t affect one’s internal beliefs.

    it’s nice to know there’s still a reasonable sliding scale within churches, so thanks for letting me know.

    3.

    it is a little strange that there are (more) people reading my posts other than the church one. i mean, everyone’s having serious business intellectual discussions in my comments. maybe they wanted more material for discourse

    …instead they get my daily rants about butt injuries, my obsession with chocolate chip cookies, and incoherent monologues.

    also slightly wary because even my archives from years ago are touched and this blog has been around since i was the most embarrassing 13-year-old monkey. do i really want people to know that i used to fantasize about being Bubbles when watching Powerpuff Girls?

     

    April 22, 2014

  • Ilo Ilo afterthought/gush

     

    Yesterday i spent the afternoon – my avowed off-time – watching Ilo Ilo.

    Not sure why it took me this long. I’ve been excited to watch it once it was out, but just never got around to doing so. It’s only when you have everything else to do when you find yourself with the motivation to do anything else that isn’t what you should be doing.

    You know what i mean. The clean your room when you have a paper due in 10 hours syndrome.

    I’ve been warned that it does not live up to expectations (which warped my expectations thereafter HMMM) but WOW i loved every bit of it. Wanted to watch it in 2 segments, but finished it in one sitting. This is of much significance because my attention span is perversely SHORT. Only good books draw me in deep enough for one-sittings, but this.

    Most of all i loved the smallest things: that one movement, an item quietly present but meaningful, the small affix to the end of a phrase. They say Anthony Chen is a stickler for details, i’d say he’s a genius of details.

    Was especially in awe of Yeo Yann Yann and Chen Tianwen’s effortless acting. Natural in a way so rare of Mediacorp (and actually everything on TV) that it was deliciously refreshing. It was akin to watching a living breathing family through a peephole and it was g o o d in all its voyeuristic brilliance.

    Ok, enough of the gushing. I’m probably very late and all of you must have watched it already. Not very sure why everyone thought of it as overrated. Have our local tongues been desensitized to the salt of Mediacorp over-acting and scripted pathos? Although i’ve come to quite enjoy that flavor in a twisted ironic kind of way: my Sgpride is strong.

    This was as good as its initial hype promised.

     

    April 21, 2014

  • Leaving the church

    This 清明 my sister, who is in her enthusiastic church-going years, requested to not hold joss sticks.

    She did it quietly and politely, and no one objected to it. I remembered myself in her. Years ago, still a church-go-er, i went through the motions anyway, if not with an uncomfortably intense dose of guilt from having to pay respects the ‘superstitious way’. At that point i thought of myself as not pious enough, not strong enough to ‘resist’ and stand up to my faith.

    Past my egocentric years, and with increasing disillusion with certain church practices (/certain church’s practices?), i now think differently.

    Back then, in church, i was given a checklist of things we should not be doing. Under the section of “superstitious and cult activities”, incense burning, joss sticks holding, etc, were all ‘strongly discouraged’. As if they determined your faith, your beliefs, and your love for God.

    Now, with age, i see these as completely disparate variables. I find certain rules laid out as misguided and over-indulgent of Christianity. The only reason, ironically, why i still identify as a Christian is that i cannot bring myself to not believe in God. A God that is very similar to the one conceived by the Christian faith, and many of the fundamental principles it is based on.

    But so many of the interpretations, the practices, the rules, and the structure of the church i just cannot.

    Once, a cradle Christian told me she envied my relatively agnostic family. She said it made my road to faith more difficult, giving me the opportunity to strengthen my faith through wanting to be a Christian despite objections to it. (LOL?)

    The thing is, i never faced much ‘objection’ from my family. The only complaint they made was that it took away half my Sunday which could be spent lazing around with them eating chee cheong fun and watching Doraemon. And even if they were to ‘object’, i doubt it would have truly difficult for me. Because rebellion is part of being a teenager. Rebellion is, in some sense, the easiest obstacle i could face.

    With age i’m beginning to understand a more complex conflict between religions and theisms, and one of the most striking insights i’ve made is that there is no ‘good’ Christian side and the antagonistic non-religious side we so often presume (or maybe just in my Convent school environment).

    Back to the joss stick issue.

    The God i believe does not see the arbitrary, even aesthetic – but fully harmless – act of holding joss sticks as problematic. It is a form of respect; of consideration for my grandma – to give her a symbolic peace of mind knowing that her husband has received some ‘love’ from his grandchildren.

    The God of my personal faith would have applauded it as an act of filial piety. The God i know doesn’t give a shit about holding two sticks for a couple of minutes for a greater cause. If you are a Christian thinking: since you are not following what the church wants us to do, why do you even see yourself as a Christian, then ok – i am not a Christian.

    I would rather stand by the God i believe in, who propounds most fundamentally love for others, doing good out of this love, and not doing harm to others – and not be considered a ‘real’ Christian, than adopt practices i don’t believe in just to reduce cognitive dissonance of being a stranded believer of God without shelter from a ‘legitimate’ religious institution.

    And this is where my divergent views from the church (of course not all churches la, just the ones i’ve observed/gone to) come into play.

    In my early years i loved church, because it taught so beautifully about love and good. Later on these teachings became less of a feature, instead there was a huge emphasis on things that were trivial and irrelevant to my faith: not holding joss sticks, speaking in tongues, being slain, adhering to a bunch of rules that didn’t make me feel any more closer to God.

    I didn’t like that my belief in God was being obscured by more peripheral church activities and principles that seemed far removed from faith. Everything was very church-centered, not God-centered (despite it being propagated as so).

    So after a few church-hopping attempts, i finally resigned to the fact that my faith in its mature (or at least most current) state cannot be reconciled with an instituted church. The furthest i can go are ad-hoc Catholic masses, which i do still love – stemming from both my IJ girl background and how (imo) it is more rooted to the fundamentals of God/love/faith.

    I won’t give a solidified position of my religious beliefs now. I think beliefs evolve and grow, and should be allowed to – even if it is in the direction of non-belief (as many believers fear).

    I don’t want my faith to be borne of confirmation bias.

    I want to continuously question my faith and all my beliefs – not just religious ones. If i still believe (as i now do, after years of doubts), then good. If i don’t, at least i know i’m not deceiving myself.

    Neither do i want my faith to be a socialized, which i feel the church provides. Of course, the church has its plusses: it offers a group that supports and sustains your faith. I do like to share about my faith, but there comes a point of saturation where, instead, my beliefs are shaped by what i think others want it to be. I try to avoid that.

    Right now i’m not sure what i really am. I’d say a Christian, but only conforming in the most basic sense. Or maybe i’m non-religious, just someone who is theistic, and believes in a God that may be any one (or none) of the ones conceptualized by any existing religions.

    I’d like, of course, to find a place that teaches me what i want to know relevant to my beliefs, without too strongly exerting an influence that may either oppress or warp the route of my faith. But as of now i’ve been mostly disappointed.

     

     

    April 15, 2014

  • Things that make me smile at 730am

    • Babies
    • My baby

    Have been in quite a good mood recently, despite papers due/un-started, and the looming finals. This might have much to do with me not really getting down to doing work recently.

     

    April 15, 2014

  • 清明

    Each year i visit and am a little different.

    One year i sulked the whole time, because it was too early for the heat and crowd; another i was distracted – we were going for our family favorite prawn mee after; once i came a teenage christian, and couldn’t reconcile the joss sticks in my hands with the church’s checklist if forbiddens.

    Each year you remain exactly the same. We wipe the dust off your smile, as wide as it was the last time we’ve seen you. I try to picture you older: deepened the lines along your eyes and diluted the bold grin with stress of an imagined middle age. I think of my fantasy cousins.

    Everyone else aged with some guilt: your mother; your brother and sisters. They remember, as kids, racing each other from the playground back home. You tripped and fell but they ran on in a heady cloud of sand, dusk and morbid glee. Later they would each get a rap on the knuckles for leaving you behind.

    Soon, i will be your age when you left us, and then – in an uncomfortable warp of natural time – older. In my life you were a guest star. You arriving late at my 2nd birthday party, that familiar helmet tucked under your arm, you holding my toy dog hostage until i traded cream cake for it, you spinning me overhead against shrieks of protests, the air expanding in my heart and lungs and head to a giddying burst.

    Was that how it was for you in those last seconds? In the newspapers, before my mother hastily stashed them away from the family, you were a grainy monochrome – more stationary than I’ve ever seen you – meters away from your upturned bike. Those days I tried to capture the exact moment you were swung off the torque of your spinning motorbike. How sudden it was, what and who you were thinking of.

    The grieving I was kept away from, and reconstructed only from quiet recounts from my mother. At your funeral us children played outside, strategically preoccupied with yellow toy steel cars. I remember being too young to understand the finality of death, but the macabre excitement and curiosity of something usually forbidden bloomed in me a childish fascination. My own grief came much later, and gradually, from noting your absence where you should have been.

    In those days a sombre hush fell over our us; a clenching, clammy inability to see life unfolding in its usual way. It took years and change for us to ease ourselves back to almost normal.

    Now every year we come back to your perpetually youthful grin, ourselves a mix of guilt and relief. It is possible, I now realize, to get over a loved one’s death. Whether we want to is a different matter altogether.

    April 13, 2014

  • Fifties

    Daily Post Challenge: Fifty

    They lay elbow to elbow.

    “What should we do?”

    Outside the clouds groan and bruised a deep purple.

    She drew out a skipping rope thick with un-use.

    “Here.”

    For awhile they stare into a dizzying vastness of possibilities.

    “But there’s only two of us.”

    “Oh.”

    Both turned away hiding relief.

    April 9, 2014

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