Thought of the Day

Note to self: "Life is not about having IG-perfect moments but having precious moments that make perfect IGs."

You see, I've started following a few local IG accounts for the last month. And boy do the mamas put up perfect photos and videos of their little ones...to a point I couldn't help but wonder what they do for a living if they're not SAHMs (because they seem to be posting photos anytime of the day), or if they have husbands who earn neat 5-figure sums every month (because they live in big houses and their kids dress really well...expensive) or if their kids were a dream (you know, beautiful, obedient, well dressed...well, perfect kids everybody dream of).

#NoYewNoUs

And so, at 3.18am on 23 March, Mr Lee Kuan Yew passed away after being hospitalised for 45 days.

While many of us quietly, and perhaps too, secretly, revere the man, there are others who are indignant about the volume of media coverage and ground sentiments about the passing of the first Prime Minister of the country.   Some took to social media to quibble about why they would not be that sad about Lee Kuan Yew's death, or that those who have suffered from f***ed up policies should be given the right to condemn the man.

And I was thinking, it's always easy to be critical of what someone does (or does not do).  Evidently, how objective can one man's view of the world be?  Do I agree with controversial policies including the graduate mother's scheme or media censorship?  Do I think that the people in the like of Francis Seow and Chia Thye Poh whom were relentlessly eliminated deserved such treatment?  No, and no.

I am not a LKY supporter.  But what I do know is that without Mr Lee Kuan Yew's vision, courage and perseverance, we most probably would not have transcended from third world to first in [less than] 50 years.  As Stefanie Sun puts it in her tribute on the local broadsheet, "...I do not see myself as a direct result of Mr Lee's exceptional accomplishments.  I do, however, look to the people whom I love the most as living testimonials of his legacy."  And I believe she speaks for many of us, well, at least for me.  My parents are not really educated.  Having only completed primary school education, life was hard for my family of five with my father as the sole breadwinner of the family.  And had it not been for meritocracy, fair education policies, and equality between gender and among races, I reckon I would probably be a dishwasher or a cashier.  Today, I am decently employed as a polytechnic lecturer.  Sure, I grouse about the cost of our HDB flats today (and for me, it's more than half a million dollars for a measly 93 square metres) among many other things, but I am thankful that home ownership was an acuity that took shape back in the 1960s.

Could someone else have done the same, or even better?  Perhaps, but I'm not sure because there is really no way of finding that out now, is there?

#RememberingLeeKuanYew #ThankYouMrLee

A week and a day

And it's totally weird but I did enjoy attending my wedding.  Hardly a fan, I reckon I can explain it now.

The thing about being Chinese, and planning a wedding is this: There are many Chinese wedding customs and practices that nobody is quite sure why they are there, or why they are carried out in a certain way, or why they are (even) necessary, but the elders in the family will insist that they are carried out anyway.  And sometimes, these people who may insist that such practices be carried out aren't even the parents, or even an older person!  It's like, suddenly, this is everybody's "big day" (Oh, and don't get me started on the offense I took with the terminology - big day).  And the same people are mad with you (I mean me) and at you  (me again) because you (I) didn't plan your (my) wedding to their convenience ("Sentosa?  Why so far?"  Enough said.).

According to Collins English Dictionary, a wedding is the act of marrying or the celebration of a marriage.  What I find most difficult to comprehend is the practice of inviting the whole kampong to a wedding reception, many of whom, I secretly suspect, may not even care to share the joy, just because it seems the right thing to do.  Annoyingly, the hospitality industry fully understand the concept of mian zi (面子) and capitalised on this wedding business opportunity (Does the phrase "a minimum of 25 to 30 tables" sound familiar to you?).

Believe me when I tell you the many baffled looks (and some others classified as looks of disbelief, seriously) I've gotten because there will not be any gate-crash games, or that I opted for one wedding dress (and not the usual two or three), or that all we really want is a small and intimate wedding celebration that we can remember, and heavens forbid the multiple march ins, yum sengs and photo montage!

Sure, I relented to some things to keep the parents, particularly my mum, happy.  At the end of the day, I'm glad we stuck to our guns too.  Bridezilla? Maybe, but I'm not a clueless 18-year-old who wishes for nothing less than a magical wedding.

Of course, whatever could go wrong did go wrong, somewhat.  Our schedule went into overrun in the morning; I looked like Superman's twin with the out-of-place-fringe under the veil (and nobody told me!); our wedding cake almost never came; M had a boo boo moment during the profession of vows;  I completely forgot my thank you speech during the lunch reception and I broke out in hives before lunch was over!

But we are so blessed with friends who readily offered their help, friends and family who flew in specially to attend our wedding celebration, and the heartfelt wishes and gifts (including air mailed gifts) from everyone.  We feel so loved.

Thank you Lord, for blessing us with a beautiful wedding, and countless memorable moments as we embark on our journey with You at the centre of our lives.

The truth about memories

The thing about memories is this - the experience(s) which make up memories had inadvertently shaped me the way I am today, whether I like it, them, or not.

The same way I would make a mental note to myself not to behave in a certain manner if I do not like what I have experienced or to be like what I have positively experienced.  I would also tell myself if I liked the me that day, or if I don't, I would have to not do it again, consciously.

Academy Award-winning actress Sophia Loren once said, "I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful.  I don't understand people who hide from their past.  Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now."

Today, I couldn't help but wonder how different a person I would be today if I have had experienced different things in my life, and how different the memories would have been.

The C Word

As the whites and the blues compete neck-to-neck for the parliamentary seat at the Hougang by-election, which, again, does not fall short of airing dirty laundry in public or biting accusations about integrity and honesty, I cannot help but wonder what the game is about.

Short of being bias because of a childhood friendship, I was secretly hoping that my friend would win the seat this time around since I figured that at the end of the day, it should be about serving the residents, or is it not?

If campaigning is about achieving change, it means having a clear aim or purpose, knowing what change one wants to achieve and what is required to bring that change about.  Since last May, it was evident that many people are screaming for change.  Gandhi once said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."  But is change all about having an alternative voice in parliament, or is about improving the quality of life of the-said residents in the constituency?  To be honest, I am confused.

Do you have the answer?

Evolution of a Singaporean Dream

Dreams, there are many.  But without a doubt, one ubiquitous Singaporean dream has got to be home ownership.  Once hailed as the epitome of any progressive young nation, it has today, or at least in the last two years, become the woe of many.  At its worst, netizens slammed a cabinet minister's comment about "buying HDB flat on $1K pay".

Where my parents paid some S$17,000 for a 2-bedroom flat in the late 70s, it is at least 10 times more today.  Gone also are the days where mortgages ranged between 10 to 20 years, a 30-year housing loan is the norm today.   If truth be told, a non sequitur would be the absence between a citizen and a PR prior to GE2011; there is no price difference, no priority distinction and no loan preference.

Where a family's first HDB flat is their springboard to a better quality of life, where upgrading to a bigger flat or even a private apartment is almost a given, today we are told we should live within our means and buy what our salaries can afford us (this, as well as the soon-to-be defunct theory of meritocracy).

With a five-room HDB flat priced at S$400K or more, it is of little wonder how we made it to become the world's number eight most expensive city to live in...in a country that is only 47 and a half years old.

An Arbitrary Argumentation

It took all but a short walk for coffee one afternoon last week to the theory behind it.  In the like of the rich-poor dichotomy, I was finally enlightened about the Matthew effect.  Coined by sociologist Robert K Merton as early as 1968, this concept of accumulated advantage is no stranger to any society.  It is, then, of little wonder how it is becoming increasingly difficult to enrol a child in a 'branded' school without any form of affiliation even if one is within the stipulated 1km of the school.  While the supposition of receiving a so-called better education in a brand name school is questionable, the hypothesis of how advantage begets further advantage as the proliferator of a widening socio-economic gap is less improbable.

But at the end of the day, I'm guessing any argumentation is arbitrary if success is assessed based solely on numbers.  Right?

Let.It.Go.

Quite honestly, I'm tired of rants in the like of I do not want Tin Pei Ling in Parliament or Petition to remove Tin Pei Ling as an MP on my Facebook news feed.

After all, its's been almost a week since the election on May 7.  And, people are still harping over You-Know-Who.  To date, the number of Likes of the former hate-page is at 50,539!

Seriously, does anyone think they will be able to change something with an online petition, on Facebook?  I reckon we're still that naive Singaporeans who do not know any better.  And in the words from the horse's mouth, "I think what's more important is that...now that I'm a Member of Parliament-elect for Marine Parade...I hope that I'll be given this opportunity within the next five years to prove myself through my actions, serving the residents of MacPherson."

Sure, I'll probably be able to show through CDA the implicit meaning(s) of texts and its correlation to the person, but I will not.  To me, it's still the case of he says, she says.

I may not have much affinity or animosity towards her but we really should just let it go...

Scratch, Scratch

Today is one of my I-want-to-scratch-your-eyeballs-out day and if that fails, your throat would do just fine too.  Everything was an eye sore, or ear sore, for that matter.  The buzz, no, outcry, revolved last night's NDR, the most poignant being the 9 grand NSmen are promised.  Recognition award.  That's what it is called.  However, to a handful of highly educated grown ups (men included), in which distasteful remarks are possibly their preferred catalyst to jumpstart their day, it was a disgusting waste of taxpayers' money, that and discriminatory comments about the PES Cs.

I couldn't help but wonder why the aggrieved reaction.  I remember very well that I used to be really peeved when I was told I make really good money as I only work half a day every day and my salary was the incumbent government's unjustified splurge of taxpayers' money.  In other words, I was overpaid.  Perhaps times have changed and people have accepted the fact that teachers work very hard and are worth every penny they deserve.  The thing is this, I'm afraid this group of teachers may have also forgotten about the CONNECT Plan where a sum of money is awarded as recognition to every teacher who'd managed to pull through despite the challenges they'd encountered.

Same difference, if you ask me.  Let NSmen get their due reward for serving the country, and in the same way, teachers who mould every child to suit our country's needs so that we will still thrive and prosper a generation from now should be handsomely rewarded.

It's all fair, isn't it?

Or not?  Perhaps I should start sharpening my fingernails in case I may have to fight the enemy myself.

The E.T.C. Issue

Expectation or experience?  The same way I have not been able to figure out why it was so hard for people to understand this - "The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch swing with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.", I'm intrigued by something I chanced upon just now: "Movies is spending time together?"

Absolute or perceived time?  Like the inconclusive answer to a random question I've been asking for the longest time, does not one already have the answer?  Maybe this might help: Do you choose to sit beside your friend or across the table?

Circular argument, or not?  You decide.

Conundrum of Life

There are days I find extremely hard to pen down my myriad of thoughts into words.  Today is one of those days.

And so it seemed I was wrong.  I'd always believed that things would change for the better with the right people.  But little did I know that they had felt trapped because many directives are top-down.  And they, they are mere puppets too.

And then it seemed I was wrong again.  I'd always thought that academics are beyond the rat race.  But no, they are participants.  Perhaps unwillingly, but yes, they are in the race.  And perhaps too, compelled to run faster than the rest.

And it's so wrong, I thought as I hear of how a certain group of young offenders are sent to prison because the society does not have a place for them.  And the saddest truth?  There cannot be more than 13 educators to attend to this group of people.  But why only 13, I'd asked, and the response - "Because they would rather invest in the people who can contribute to the society", accompanied by a ludicrous look that read - why even ask; isn't it obvious?

And as I sit at dinner conversations revolving apartment hunting, raising children or gossips about people I once knew, I couldn't help but wonder how much more time I'll have before I buckle under the reality of life.

I'll be there

"Even if all the tickets are sold out, I will swim there."  And I really would.  But I couldn't help but wonder.  Although it possibly cannot be proven, I secretly suspect too many promises have been left unfulfilled in the world.  I, I am guilty as charged; I have broken my fair share of promises made over the years too, many a times, it's simply because I didn't feel like it.

A mockery it seems, I always remember what Calvin reckons about unkept promises - "Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words."

But now, I would like it to be different, a good different.  And nothing says it better than the Jackson Five song that goes "...just call my name and I'll be there".

P for Promises; P for Plans

For a few years now, I loathe the obligation to explain my aversion to work in a certain organisation in Singapore. An irony, it seems, that even the people closest to my heart would not but still probe "Why not?" at times.

"The pay is good."

"It's an iron rice bowl."

Or at times, tactless, though harmless, justifications like "You're an Arts grad; teaching is a good career."

The thing is this: One can list a thousand and one reasons why it makes perfect sense to resume work in that esteemed organisation, yet there is simply no desire within me, no hunger, no fire.

While some lofty initiatives put me off totally, I cannot deny the purposeful ones designed for the betterment of the student population in Singapore. Perhaps there is a gap, an idealistic-realistic dichotomy, between the planners and implementers, between the people who run the school and the people who conduct the lessons. Sometimes I reckon it's my experience with the people running the school I was in who spoilt it all, but is it really? After all, I know I wasn't the only one who has walked away in disappointment. But I suppose it's time I stop quoting the self-righteous "witch" as an excuse; it's time to acknowledge the irreconcilable differences, be it in values or motives and the like.

"But it's the same everywhere."

"Work is work; it's a means to an end."

There are too many doing things they do not like and/or working with people they cannot stand. A quick glance at one's Facebook status tells it all. A job should not be an obligation. It should be enjoyable, something one looks forward to every day. It should be something that does not drain or tire but instead, fills one with more energy and passion to want to do more and better each time.

"The economy is bad; this is not the time to be picky."

Shalom peace. I think I have it. The reality of life witness the fast diminishing volume of my savings by the day, yet I am not afraid, for I have the promises of the Lord, promises that I will be bestowed with, unearned, unmerited, undeserved through the Lord, Jesus Christ, as I remember His word: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)

Amen.

Come what may

Today, I'm thinking the School Excellence Award. It is the highest and most prestigious award in the MOE Masterplan of Awards framework. Today, two schools have been awarded this most highly coveted award. And today, I couldn't help but wonder about equity and meritocracy.

Evidently, this excellence includes integrated curriculum, special co-curricular programmes, individualised enrichment programmes and the like. While all students are, technically, given equal opportunities, I ponder over the doubt of opportunism, and inevitably too, elitism. Yet, I cannot unfairly dismiss the intense effort of those educators whom I'm certain have been through more sweat, blood and tears in the process than I can ever imagine. But I also cannot conceal my disgust in those interested only in recognition and reputation.

Perhaps, I hold too idealistic an impression of what education should be. And perhaps too, this is something I may never reconcile with. But I just couldn't stop wondering if there is equity in education, if meritocracy is but an excuse for opportunism.

Anonymous army

And as Singapore ranks third on the WEF Global Competitiveness Report 09/10, I found myself neither rejoicing about the current economic stability of the country nor acclaiming how far we've come since independence. Instead, I was thinking foreign workers.

There are more than half a million lower-skilled foreign workers predominantly in the construction industry, domestic services as well as the service, manufacturing and marine industries. The highly controversial social issues aside, I found myself wondering about the exploitation of foreign workers. Much talk have been made to improve the accommodation and living conditions of the foreign workers in Singapore, ranging from the area one can take up in a lorry to safe and hygienic dormitories. At the end of the day, new guidelines may be drafted over and over but I couldn't help but wonder how much of these guidelines have been followed over the years.

Of course, I'm absolutely guilty for harbouring unkind thoughts at those whom I secretly suspect are up to no good at times, but I cannot deny the fact that these are the very group of people who help build my city, literally. I recall known episodes of public outbursts against Mandarin-only-speaking foreign workers at a food court in the city's south or the petition against the proposed construction of dormitories to house foreign construction workers in a quiet northeastern neighbourhood. Overlooking doubtful minimum wages issues, I reckon the list goes long on...

While I believe this is not a Singapore-only issue, I'm not totally convinced things will change for the better some day, where there will be no exploitation in whatsoever way one can possibly think of.

C for Character

Character referees? As I dutifully filled in the details, I couldn't help but wonder about character. Character refers to moral qualities, ethical standards, principles and the like. Character reference is the norm in job applications; some professions deemed character reference more important than others.

The thing is this: Exactly how much of a person 's character does another know? And how much exactly does another know of that person is the person's real character, that one really is? Does spending much time suffice the judgement of a person's character? Perhaps the word judgement is misleading; comprehension is possibly a better word.

Character referees. I suppose they do represent the epitome of a person's integrity and all that one genuinely is to a large extent. But what if a person is not whom you think s/he really is? Does that imply purposefully obscuring whom one really is?

For a while now, something I'd heard from friends over dinner one day had been unsettling. Of course, I am aware of the necessity to decipher the extent of accuracy of the gossip. But truth be told, I do find it hard to reconcile with the stories I've heard. As I struggle to re-establish my ability to look at the one in question in the eye without flinging, I couldn't help but question the need for different facets and how and why one chooses which facet to show to whom. But I reckon Thomas Babington Macauley said it well: "The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he never would be found out."

Let it rain

Heavy and voluminous, the rain finally came, washing off all the ashes and the dust that loomed in the atmosphere. And the air is clear and crisp once again.

I thank God for the rain for I had felt completely choked in the last two days. Late Wednesday night marked the start of the infamous seventh month of the Lunar calendar, a period fondly known to many Chinese as the hungry ghosts' festival where the whole month is marked with "celebrations" of the burning of massive joss papers and sticks and amusing Getai performances all across the country. Hmmm, but not at Kampong Glam, I suppose.

As I opened my windows for the first time in two days, I couldn't help but notice the numerous patches of burnt grass and charred spots on the concrete pavements in the neighbourhood. I couldn't help but wonder if these are considered acts of vandalism. Maybe they're not; they are part of the religious tolerance we have been educated on time and again. Recalling Uncle Goh's speech on the challenge of an increasingly diversed and religious population in Singapore, I bemused over the lack of control on the burning fiasco, sensitivity (or the lack of) to other races and religions notwithstanding. And I mourned the demise of my clean and green garden city, or at least the lawn in my neighbourhood, which has momentarily been transformed into smouldering parched plots.

The air is fresh now, but for how long?

Random

It's one thing thinking that you know, it's another knowing that you do; it's one thing thinking that I understand, it's another realising that I don't....

...if I'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that I am?

PS: Random thoughts prompted by a conversation and M's facebook status.

Recalibration

I'll be lying if I say I can't wait. And as my two-year hiatus comes to an end, it's only natural I have mixed feelings about being in the race once again. While I fully understand now the responsibilities that I have to shoulder, I wonder about my adequacy. Of course, I'm probably unduly worried about the future. Maybe age has something to do with it. As I get older, I found it took longer to make a seemingly life-changing decision. Indeed, every step taken has a ripple effect and every decision made may entail a magnitude of effects beyond imagination.

It's ludicrous how I had my life mapped out before me when I was 18: graduate at 22; start my working life; get married at 26; have my first child at 28; get promoted to middle management... Looking back, it's no secret I'd fared badly at my own agenda. But it's not a bad thing. I reckoned I'd made a difference to some and changed their lives, experienced work and life overseas, studied in Australia, and of course, made and kept some really good friends whom I wouldn't have known if I'd stayed in Singapore.

But perhaps now, it doesn't seem so bad to follow the plan. I had resisted the norm and falling to expectations for the longest time. A chat with a friend recently made me realise how much I yearn the typical life. And she made me realise how settling is not as humdrum as I thought. I'm not sure I'm totally convinced but I think I'm ready to take that leap of faith. I'd always thought it was going to be like Francois Sagan's "I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love", but maybe this is a prerogative for a selected few.

Sometimes I wonder if this is 'the grass is greener on the other side' phenomenon. But whatever it is, I'm certain God will make it green whichever side I am on.

The darker side of nationalism

As I lapsed momentarily into a hypnosis listening to the monotonous lull of the white plastic buttons of my flannel pyjamas top hitting against the stainless steel barrel of the tumble dryer, I found myself replaying a conversation I had with B, a fellow Indian-Singaporean living in Sydney, while waiting for the lights, in my head.

Being in Sydney meant a heightened attachment to Singapore, Singaporeans and the Singaporean lingo. Well, to me at least. As I jokingly told her that my idea of Indians at the age of 5 was the women all wore saris and the men were all roti-prata sellers, B recounted her experience with some Christian-convert friends who told her she should never go for yoga.

And it suddenly dawned on me the reality of solidarity. It's like this: It is of human nature to want to associate with each other in one way or another, but the reality is our assumption and stereotyping of another community different from ours contradicts that very desire for sameness in identity. And that brings me to wonder about the bigger picture. The construction of a national identity is a political rhetoric which at the end of the day may simply be an imagined existence; an awareness will almost never, dare I say, translate into real understanding; what is present is the pretentious assumption of a knowledge and the inability to admit "Honestly, I don't know...".

Ludicrously, my own thought scared me. And as I scrambled to recall the pledge I grew up reciting, I felt my heart almost stopped when I couldn't remember the words..."We, the citizens of Singapore, pledge ourselves as one united people, regardless of race, language or religion..." But as sarcastic as it may sound, I sure am glad somebody dreamt a dream this big some thirty years ago and despite all the challenges, made it thus far.