Finding My Feet

I didn’t quite know how to go about writing this post, but here it is anyway.

Those times wherein I found myself unbalanced – for better or worse – produced the strongest and most intense memories. When I restrict myself to considering only the negative side of the equation, with the further restriction of only examining recent years, it also becomes clear that those times engendered the greatest introspection and self-reflection. And speaking very broadly, they always produced more questions than answers. It’s been like that for the past year – trying to find my feet, in different places at different times in different ways; up till June, though, there wasn’t much time to reflect; when you’re a trainee you worry about other things, like staying alive.

Back to the bigger picture. In one case particularly, the ability of such negatively imbalanced situations to affect the way I thought and behaved was striking, to say the least. Taken out of my comfort zone, it was then that I found myself going beyond what I would have imagined possible and – I say this retrospectively – producing brilliant crystallized poignance, the like of which I have never been able to replicate since. I would venture to say that that’s because the circumstances have never since been replicated in full again. That’s fine by me, but I still find the whole thing curious to this day. Who wouldn’t want to be able to reach into oneself at will, as it were, and emerge with the seeming ability to just…transcend limits? Without quite knowing how one did it, either.

*****

There were tradeoffs, of course. One might say my heightened ability to do some things precluded me from doing others properly – though I still maintain that those failures could be attributed to a lack of proper focus or whatever. I think with proper management, they didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. I also think it’s not much of a stretch to say that I found myself at my best when I was firmly centered. But the complicating factor here is that in not-so-good times I also won things and received accolades that I never expected or sought. I need to think about this more.

N08/1/A1ENG/SP2/ENG/TZ0/XX 3(b)

Listening as well as not listening, and even eavesdropping, are all devices which fiction
writers use to drive their plots. How have at least two writers you have studied used some of
these devices in their works, and to what effect?

Too Close For Comfort

Sometimes, when friends say things that strike a little too close to home, it can be surprising; all the more so when highly-guarded secrets are concerned. But incidents like these can lead to realisations and revelations. And these are all the more surprising when one realises that he had already stored the issue away as already resolved…in mind, if not in deed. These precious insights then become all the more valuable, and one is led to wonder, how much more is out there, still unrealised? Thank you, mmm.

CNY Hope

The Chinese New Year holiday period has been, for the past four years or so, vaguely about hope of some sort or another. It was once a chance to set the wrongs of the previous year right, to (try to) edge ahead in whatever way possible. It was, twice, a much-cherished reprieve – though in drastically different ways. And yet another time it was about hope and belief in doing what I had a month before not even considered to be possible. I don’t have any idea how different (or similar) this year might be, but the reason I’m writing this now is that tonight, a hope deep inside has quite possibly been extinguished for good. And where exactly does that leave me?

leaving us alone again

I wonder what it’s like to have others constantly there to fend for you. I don’t quite mean this the same way a child has his parents and family to fend for him, although there is a big similarity there. It involves having, as it were, so many second chances and Extra Lives. I mean I wonder what it’s like having others to fend for you, at this age, at twenty, to have hordes always there for you, around you, who will answer when you call and (presumably) catch you if you fall. (While there are people I know who will cover my backside if it ever comes to it, the number pales in comparison. These things, one generally only comes to realise by contrast. I can only hope that quality counts for something.) Everyone belongs to everyone else, indeed. Phooey.

150 pages a day keeps the doctor away

I’m pretty thankful to have gotten into the shift I’m currently in. Even given that there were many who didn’t get their choice, I still can’t imagine what life on the other side would be like. But I think a part of me would have died, because it might have meant more cloistering that a soul should be forced to endure within a period of four years. Had I not been where I am now, I wouldn’t have had the chance to do all these special events – all acronym-ed out – with these people.

*****

Changes, new men, another QRF, G-Shift, and (dare I say it?) 3-shift. Dates seem to emerge in stone with every passing mount – but one can’t help to be more than a little suspicious of some of them. After all, we’ve been fooled by dates before. (New building? Posting out? etc.) And now I’m being pulled on both sides (or not at all), what with the unfortunate clash of dates. There are too many unknowns, too many variables, and too many unknown variables. There’s also the issue of dental surgery to slot in somewhere, and who knows how long that might take to arrange. Hopefully, more things come to light soon; the sooner the better. It’s not nice making decisions blindly.

Sober

The past weekend has been one of many happenings. The toll of changes can still be felt, strongly, with everything still in the state of not-quite-settled-down yet. Many things came to me during the few days spent in and out of camp, in various places and in various ways. A ceremony, and a dinner. Five checkpoints, and FOUR one-hour blocks in a day. A second dossier? And a most interesting discussion of the present social fabric and its flaws.

Those who do not have anything good to do with their time are doomed to waste it.

Unreadable

I’d had high hopes for this dismount – as I always do – but basically given up on it being of any use even before it started, once I found out/remembered about all the things I had to attend to – school trip, a faraway prize rehearsal far away, and an early bookin. What to do?

Last night I was reminded of the loss of potential, forever irrevocable, when one chooses, consciously or otherwise, to let opportunities slip through their fingers. But I think the regret is also less when you consider things which happen before one reaches an age of accountability, as opposed to when one goes out and commits the same mistakes again several years later.

Illegible

The past three days have been far from being the best – but at least the general busyness passed time quickly, if meaninglessly and more than a little disquietingly. The burden of change, the creeping loss of freedoms, the weight of inflexibility – all niggling away, telling me that the way things were before could never have lasted; that neither will the present status quo, even in its state of flux; that the endstate when the dust settles is likely to be a system which the masses desperately wish to avoid; and that the one saving grace which endures still remains a black box.

It’s easy to implement things from on top when one has never – or indeed, will ever – experienced an inkling of the things being put in place. I suppose not having any vested emotional interest is always bound to be a foolproof way of sleeping better at night, but the truth is that to do these things properly is difficult because it requires at least some of the following attributes, the more the better:

• going beyond the call of duty, tradition-wise
• a large dose of intellectual curiosity
• a spirit of excellence, lest one be satisfied with mediocre solutions
• integrity and humility

Remember, Christ washed his disciples’ feet. But to expect Christlike behaviour from distinctly un-Christlike institutions is to border on the delusional.

*****

I visited the old haunting grounds today – not all of them, and not all the teachers either. I didn’t get to step foot in certain places which would have elicited a stronger emotional response, I think. The classroom, the audi, the LTs, the nucleus, among others. It was not the best of occasions for reflection, I think. Or maybe the reflections are just choosing to remain subconscious for the moment.

More About Fridays

After further pondering I realised that I barely scratched the surface with the previous post, so here’s more. Fridays have seen many trends come and go, though memory fails me on many counts.

Church has been a permanent fixture on Friday nights since March 2000, with the short exception of the Feb-May 2005 period when my parents weren’t around.

There was a time when chess was held on Fridays, back in ACS(P). I cannot remember which year it started being on Fridays (must have been either 2001 or 2002 though), and I am also unable to recall whether the Friday session was only for the school team or not. Oh dear.

Later on (or was it before? Arghhh), there was chinese tuition, which was at Bukit Batok. This would often be coupled with a visit to IMM or a visit to my grandparents in Clementi, or both.

Subsequently (of this I can be sure of) SJAB took the huge Friday afternoon slot, often spilling over to the evening. The sessions were shifted from Saturday to Friday, due to the whole 5-day week movement. I remember those days as a brilliant introduction to inefficiency and bureaucracy, a shining example of poor leadership and exercise in futility if there ever was one. At least it prepared me for similar experiences in NS, where there was more (but what a price to pay, you might say). After ROD from SJAB (this is 2006) there must have been a time when I had Friday afternoons free, though I can’t seem to recall what I did with it. It probably went wasted as might be expected of my free time in those days; it was a misspent youth, after all.

I already stated before that early ‘07 could be considered a true TGIF period, because of the huge relief it never failed to provide. Late ‘07 was spent on contract bridge, short-lived as that club was. I would have liked to have taken it further, but as is often the case, others saw things differently.

Looking at 2008, I am unable to recall specifics though I suspect it was a bugbear; somehow I associate it with being an unending source of frustration. Things like getting home at 6 pm when I had nothing on and did nothing were surely not optimal. The best line of play was probably to rush home to catch up on sleep; even back then, this should have been intuitively clear to me. What poor priorities. When I look at it this way I often think to myself that I don’t deserve any of what I got because it’s appalling. And shameful. What a fool I was.

Then, bookouts. Precious but short they were. The mood was always different in camp on those days – upbeat, nervous energy radiating all around. Friday meant the successful completion of another week and an invaluable two days out here and not in there. But somehow, those Fridays were never quite TGIF in the way early ‘07 was. Perhaps I have forgotten the relief I felt in those days; but I don’t think my memory has misled me on this count. Maybe it’s because the latter never came with any strings attached. Or because I knew – without realising it at the time – that ‘09 weekends were never going to be as good as ‘07 weekends.

Now, Friday either marks the start of a weekend in camp or the start of a weekend outside it, meaning I either book in or book out on Friday. I don’t actually mind it that much. Let’s hope that doesn’t change.