wow2.

i'm still excited, heh.

wow.

so today i go for group therapy, and we're all talking about how we try to fit into different 'roles', and live up to expectations, and don't say what's really on our mind.

i got all excited when we talking about not editing what we say before we say it. can you imagine that? i mean, so i guess if we were a group of aggressive, loud-mouthed, obnoxious jerks that wouldn't be so great. BUT. this is a group of people pleasing, nurturing, caregiver-esque folks. wouldn't you like to know what's REALLY on their mind?

and then it leads me to think....i would really want to marry someone who is able to be himself no matter where he is, or who he is. respectful and real. not conflict avoiding, loving, totally comfortable being a source of discomfort.

omg. i'm so excited.

mirror on the wall

Today I spent some time staring at myself in the mirror, and feeling surprised that I am Chinese/Asian/Singaporean. It's funny because ever since I've come overseas, I haven't really thought of myself that way. Some of it, I think, is because I hang out with non-Singaporeans/non-Asian people for a significant portion of my time that I've kind of become oblivious to myself - it's like gaining your identity from people around you. Some of it too is just that Singaporeans have a great aptitude (I think) for assimilating into whatever environment you give them, just because Singapore hasn't really done a great job of branding itself. I don't know what to tell people when they ask me what Singapore is about. America is Hollywood. America is Macdonalds. America is Obama. Singapore is....? In my heart I can say Singapore is chicken rice, and ERP, and sheltered walkways everywhere. But how do I explain that to someone overseas? And because they don't understand it, I don't communicate it. And because I don't communicate it, I don't feel it. And I start to have this vague notion of my cultural identity.

I looked in the mirror and was very surprised that I am tan, and I have Asian features. It's a funny feeling.

Bright eyes are calling

Is it okay that I'm 23 and still feel like a bright eyed, wide eyed child inside? That I kind of want to wear orange and green checkered shirts for the heck of it? That I want to wink over the top of the novel I'm reading at someone across the table, and then laugh?

Is it okay that I don't adhere to social norms all the time? That sometimes I want to take off and run in wide open fields?

Is it okay that I want to pray fervently on my knees to the God I know rules the universe? Is it okay that I don't want my room to match? That I don't want to look elegant all the time?

I want to dance in my living room to whatever's on the radio. I want to bask in the splendour of the sun, and pick the ugliest hat to wear to work tomorrow.

I don't want to ever forget how to love with abandon. To take risks, and hurt and cry. That's what makes a heart alive.

I want to be able to do the mundane things - laundry, chores, repeatedly failing experiments - and still be able to sit down at the end of the day and praise God. He makes me so safe, so safe to be exactly who I am. Am I too passionate? Am I too fickle? Am I too emotional? Thankfully, He doesn't think so. I think He's seen me at my worst (:

When I look at the end of the road, I can see His eyes looking at me. And when I gaze back at them, I know, I am safe. Absolutely, altogether, without a doubt, safe. It doesn't matter what happens to me tomorrow, in a month, in 5 years. I can see His eyes. Eyes which are wonderfully wise, passionate, loving (SO loving), understanding, powerful. And they are calling me.

Cameras, robbers, freebie love

Today I was thinking about how owning a camera could transform my fame in blogosphere. Theoretically, with a camera, I would take stunning photographs of everyday life (grandparents kissing, babies smiling etc) and post them, so that even if I had utterly no wit that day, I had at least a picture of a toddler picking his nose for blog readers to coo over.

Unfortunately I have no camera, and this makes me slightly sad because beautiful Kodak moments in life go forgotten. Then again, it also means that if my home ever was broken into (like how my neighbour's home was broken into 2 weeks ago), the robbers' (them poor dears) best luck at stealing something valuable from my room would be the Red Bull shot that has sat on my desk for the past 3 months or so. I have never gotten round to drinking it because the healthfreak in me (which mostly comes out to play during blue moons, pig flying events and in the presence of Red Bull shots) declares it a dangerous, chemical-laden beverage. Robbers though, I feel, would find it a worthy find since most robberies, which require alertness, nimble-footedness and energy, occur at night, when they surely must be sleepy and tired like me.

By the way, in case I come off as the sort of person who makes impulsive purchases of Red Bull shots and then doesn't drink them, I should clarify that it was a free gift when I bought a microfabrication textbook at the MIT Co-op at the start of semester. One week later though, I returned the textbook when I realised that microfabrication is just 'not my thang'. Although I received a total refund when I returned the textbook, the bookstore people did not ask for the Red Bull shot back. SCORE, I thought to myself, for I have gained a free Red Bull shot! Which I will never drink, of course, but which the freebie-loving Asian me will nonetheless derive satisfaction from.

Tomorrow,

I will wake up, thank God, pull open my curtains (which I hung myself) and look forward to breakfast.

I will have cereal, with 2% milk, because 0% is disgusting.

I will go to the hairdresser's and ask for a beautiful cut, and not feel bad that I am spending $40 to make myself look prettier (at least to me).

I will go to the barbeque at my friend's foreclosed house, and shiver because there's no heat, and warm my hands over the fire. (I hope there's sausage. I love sausage.)

I will come home, rest, close my eyes.

I will dress up, and go for another friend's 30th birthday party!

And then I will come home and brush my teeth, floss (or else you get cavities), snuggle up in bed, thank God and thank God and thank God.

"that moral is gonna costs you $2.99, m'am."

I was sent Sir Jonathan Sacks' article 'Morals: the one thing markets don't make' by my former economics lecturer the other day and found it, if not fascinating and novel, very very good sense. Sir Jonathan Sacks happens to be the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, and has written several works on ethics in the today's world.

His pointed out the tendency of capitalism to put a price on everything, and forget about value. His used the inflation and burst of the housing bubble as an example. People forgot that houses were meant to be shelters and refuges, and decided to transform them into trading cards, until prices became hard-to-reach and those who wanted a home realised they needed to get in the game too. This doesn't mean that we should kill capitalism and have the government built uniform huts across the country however. Markets are necessary and will probably be for a good length of time. But, they need morals. And morals are not created by markets, but by tradition, customs, religion, schools, and people with a lot of good sense.

I shan't divert this little summary to talk about what morals are based on, and whether truth is absolute or relative, and how decide who are the 'people with a lot of good sense' etc. That's another quandary all by itself. However, it did make me start thinking about what to do with the next 3 months.

After finishing the final undergraduate examination of my life last Monday, I am now faced with 3 months of unprogrammed time until I fly to the States and start my PhD in August. As I swept the floor at home and tried to figure out whose hair was falling out the most rapidly in my family, the bugging sensation that I should be earning money suddenly crept up on me again! Money, it seems, easily becomes the driving force for all activity. It is like the approving nod of the divine, pronouncing an activity Worthy To Be Done. Unpaid activities must be value-less. It is felt then, that if one has 4 intact limbs and a functional mind, one should be capitalizing on one's income-generating capacity. Aaron and I sometimes argue that this is purely a Singaporean mentality which has placed a disproportionate amount of emphasis on productivity. I don't know, I think it's a pretty prevalent phenomena in most developed countries though. True, it seems that gap years are a LOT more acceptable overseas. Then again, people who have chosen a gap life tend to be termed 'bums', 'poor dears', or at best 'artists'.

I wonder if this is why mothers stuck at home with young children, feel like they're not really 'contributing to society'. I am absolutely not judging couples where both parents need to work to provide a decent standard of living. To the contrary, it shows that the unbalanced position of monetary rewards (only rewarding services and products which can be consumed , instead of all activities of value) in combination with a sole reliance on such rewards to direct action, is dangerous. Since no one's paying them to do it, why do it? For a long time, there was no price on being environmentally unfriendly either, so we left our carbon footprints all over the place until Mother Nature started screaming at us to wipe our feet on the rug before coming in.

An English college student set out on a walk to India about a year ago, inspired by Gandhi and a stay in a village where money did not exist said, "As long as society remains capitalist we will never have a true sense of community, and environmental destruction will continue unabated. Economic growth is completely dependent on us destroying our environment."

That's why, I guess, governments are supposed to intervene and put values on such activities with intangible benefit (and penalities on those with intangible harm). But caught in a globalised world where products and services can easily be traded, but not environmental protection or social security, they too are in a bind as to how much of a reward they can give to a moral conscience.

If only we could find a way to mass produce some goodness.