dolorous interludes.

To not see beyond the vista of countless days of marking and monotonous pedanticity is to be myopic. News came in today that my current routine lifestyle is subject to change in due course. This gift bestowed upon me is more than I can ask for, and has given me some cause for celebration. It has given me new strength to do all that is left for me with greater zest and enthusiasm; the end is in sight, and this thought makes one cherish the remaining days in greater pleasure and joy. My eyes have grown seedy and small from the overt concern with minute and worthless details, and after this, I shall see the world yet again, to soar and feel the lush green threads of wonderland and freedom. To be unchained is what I wish for, and my hope has been granted this noon. How apt, the strike of twelve has brought a dreamy smile to my face, but this midday chime does not lull me to bed, it wakes me from my half worn sleep instead.

What is beauty if not for the loose ends and free verse that only inspires one with the sense of space and lack of duties? From then on, in Pessoa, Eliot, Shelly and Hardy I shall indulge myself, and no one can stop me. It is also interesting to note that as I was contemplating the lifestyle that I want for myself, a curious link was directed to me through a friend, and it was a brilliant read though long. This part especially, appealed to my senses greatly: “I felt both angry and guilty that my idealism constantly came up against so many artificial obstacles. I felt that the obsession with bookkeeping and papering over any mistakes, real or perceived, allowed neither time nor space for innovation. Further, the mania to deliver standardized results trumped the notion of harnessing individual potential, of the teachers and the students.Worse, I felt I could not raise these issues. There was a culture of silence. My experiences are not about bad principals or teachers in particular. It is about ways of being and seeing that represent to me, the Singapore legacy that I have inherited. The principals and teachers that I talked about are not to blame individually - it is just so difficult to be and to see otherwise in the busy-ness, routines, and duties of our everyday lives.”

After having worked almost a term at where I currently am, I can only agree whole heartedly with this short paragraph that is also part of that brilliant read I spoke of: “Teacher education in Singapore is tilted more to the vocational than the intellectual and I wanted the space, time and knowledge to help me articulate and frame what I was thinking and feeling. On a more pragmatic level, I knew that nobody took the feelings of groundling teachers seriously and that people would probably listen to me more if I had a doctorate.” Well. I am extremely glad of my soon to come leave, and though perhaps slight affection and friendship have developed through the course of this experience, I yearn for what I don’t already know rather than to convey hoards of information (repetitively) which I know only so well through years of silent geographical meditation. (most of what they learn at sec one isnt even all too useful anyway) Despite my frequent ranting, I am however thankful for this opportunity; it is through this that I have discovered what I cannot possibly embark on as a career for the long haul.

So what does one wish for in the midst of this Singaporean dream and plan? Can one wish for anything more than this given the lifestyle and culture that is impressed upon us? What shall I want for myself? Two scenarios one draws out as taken from the article, “You wake up everyday and work from Monday to Friday, and often, Saturday too. If you finish work early, you and your partner go to your parents' place for dinner and see your child for a few hours. If you work late, you buy a packet of char kway teow from the hawker centre but eat it at home because it's too warm to eat there. You're not crazy about the job but you know that if you keep at it, you can afford a car in 3 years' time, and in 5 years' time, buy a condo close to the primary school you want to send your kid to.Your conversations with people are either for the purpose of networking, work, or for familial obligations you cannot avoid. On weekends, you play golf with your friends at your country club or watch a movie with your partner. Once a year, you go on a ten day vacation to New York, London, or Paris, and when your children are big enough, Disneyland.

Alternatively, you wake up and you have no idea what is going to happen today, tomorrow, 6 months or a year later. Ironically, because of this uncertainty, all possibilities exist for you. You can be the Prime Minister of Singapore, you can make a movie, you can cook a meal you have never cooked before, eat at a place you have never eaten before, you can color your hair red, you can skip instead of walk, you can volunteer at the school you have always wanted to volunteer at, you can write a book, or you can have a baby even though you don't have a maid. You have conversations with people who set your heart palpitating and your mind on fire. Your weekday is not so different from your weekend because everyday you are thinking, creating, and more important, imagining.”

I have read the responses of many of my fellow friends and some have said that having no idea of what you're doing tomorrow offers you NO possibilities instead of the“limitless opportunities” that the author speaks of, and that one is left there “hanging, and stuck in limbo, unable to make any decisions.”, so she says. And yes I do agree that it is a matter of perception, of what type of a person one is and has grown to be, and I guess I belong to the latter. “conversations with people who set your heart palpitating and your mind on fire,” and the everyday “thinking, creating and imagining” is so important to me; one feels almost fulfilled and challenged and the occasional “life is so meaningless” phrase actually hides itself away only to be found when monotony sets in. And yes, I do wish to live my dream of writing a book. =)

In the meantime however, while I await my much needed break, my only enemy remains: Time. For he and I, I wish for time. It isn’t on our side and this sickening awareness makes one more nauseous than needing to feed on bile. The growing realization at the reality of his leave in the coming months causes a hollow ache in the hearts of the lonely and the weak. No goodbyes are forever indeed, but Time is a powerful hand, and the human heart, a weak levee, only so vulnerable to tides of intermittent showers that unleash floods of rising emotions that change the landscape forever. Nothing is ever constant, and nothing never changes. The human heart is amorphous and capricious.

Some say that the tragedies of Shakespeare live on in our day and age. I agree no less. Tragedy does not make one stronger, it weakens the weakest, and breaks the broken; shall I be an Othello, it will only mar the dreams that I am blessed with but do not live. “It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on” says Iago. How does one balance the innate insecurity that is magnified by the perfect beauty in others, and the devotion he promises (like love that was assured by phantoms of a past life which only grew cold and weary by the last sunset)? There is no one perfected solution, and one can only trust. A friend once said, “ Love is a one way street, there’s no turning back.” Let’s hope that this applies to my drive down Amore Avenue. –smiles-

Oh yes, Happy Valentine's you all!

posted by voyeur @ 2/13/2004 09:52:00 PM