thehibernatedmind

[thehibernatedmind]

Mickey 17: Humanity and the Quest for Survival

So I finally watched Mickey 17, and I enjoyed it. I like Parasite a bit more, but Mickey 17 has its moments. Plus Robert Pattinson did a fantastic job on this one.

From what I read online, most people see the film as a political satire and a commentary on human nature (and it's blatantly obvious this is what the film is about after you've seen the trailer). It is all of these things, but there's one theme that slowly became apparent to me and I don't see people talking about it a lot - the theme of survival.

(more under the cut and spoilers alert!)

There's this one line that stuck with me. The line takes place near the end of the film, when Mickey 18 goes on a suicide mission to kill Marshall. Before he presses the button that detonate the explosives on himself, he hesitates. Then Marshall says (and I'm paraphrasing from memory), "Afraid to die? That's what makes us human."

I kept thinking about that line after I left the cinema. Then it occurs to me that this wish for survival is prevalent in the characters and even in the setting. In order to survive, humanity chooses to immigrate to another planet. Mickey and Timo also apply for immigration because they want to survive - to escape a violent loan shark. Marshall sets up the entire immigration campaign for his political survival - to become a leader somewhere else, after he has failed to expand and maintain his power on Earth.

Marshall is not wrong in saying the fear of death is part of our humanity. Our mortality is in our human nature. However, this is also where he is wrong. Throughout the film, it is proven time and time again that this desire to survive takes away compassion. The quest for political survival makes Marshall and his wife so self-righteous and selfish that they simply treat others as tools. Timo, in order to save himself from the loan shark, almost cuts up Mickey, his closest friend. And of course, Mickey 18, who would do anything it takes, even killing people, to make sure he can still be alive. The desire for survival, on some level, actually takes away the characters' humanity. And mixed up in all of these is Mickey Barnes, an expendable that chooses not to survive.

Okay, what I just said may not be the most accurate. Of course Mickey wants to survive. That's the reason he becomes an expendable in the first place, and he has repeatedly stated he hates dying. Plus he tries to fight back against Mickey 18 when 18 tries to kill him. But compared to the other characters, Mickey is the most passive when it comes to surviving. His job is to die and get reprinted again and again, but he seldom complains about it. In fact, he thinks he deserves to die, as he has a deeply held belief that he has done a lot of wrongs in his life. It is almost funny (but actually kind of sad) that when the Creepers save him, he actually believes they think he tastes bad and that's why they let him go. This guy even thanks Marshall for dinner after he did another experiment on him that almost got him killed.

I guess what makes Mickey different from most of the characters is he is not trying to survive. He simply wants to live. He is not trying to beat anyone so that he doesn't have to die. Rather, he just wants a normal life and to fall in love with a girl he likes. It is also what makes the Creepers more 'human' than the humans on the spaceship. They simply want to live on their planet. They just became more murderous when the humans invade and trample on that wish by killing their kind.

I don't think the film is trying to say the wish of survival is 'bad'. Like I said, our wish to stay alive is also part of being human. But when survival makes us lose our compassion and our respect for other living beings, that's when we need to rethink our life choices.

[thehibernatedmind]

the burden of a small rock

So the retreat camp was...a lot.

I wasn't wrong. It was the experience I needed. It was so memorable that it deserves 3 separate reflections.

So this is part 2.

Before we entered the camp, we were asked to take one thing with us - either palm leaves, a scroll, a piece of rope, a rock, or a nail (all materials related to Jesus' last week before he died). I was given a rock. The rock was used to represent the heaviness of Jesus' heart when he prayed at Gethsemane. Well, how fitting. I was carrying my own sadness as well. I felt it when I wake up, when I go to work, when I was with other people...

Actually, why pain?

As much as I do know there is pain and suffering in life, deep down, just like everyone else, I don't want to experience it myself. Human reflexes, I guess. But Jesus knew he was going to suffer when He became a man. So why did He do it? Why did He choose this path?

Jesus' prayer at Gethsemane was "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." (Matthew 26:39)

It was His will to suffer.

During the camp, there were many experiential activities related to "suffering". Hiking up a hill, drinking bitter coffee, walking in darkness, trying to carry a cross on unbalanced grounds. Particularly when I was walking in darkness, I did feel fear, but then I remembered God's promise that He will be with us wherever we go.

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,     and the light about me be night,” even the darkness is not dark to you;     the night is bright as the day,     for darkness is as light with you. (Psalm 139:11-12)

He's with me in the darkness, because He chose to.

***

I remember the old Christian story "Footprints in the Sand". When the narrator looked back at the places he walked, he realized at his lowest moments, there was only one set of footprints. He asked God why He left him. That's when God replied, "during your trials and testings. When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."

The rock I took to camp now feels lighter somehow.

[thehibernatedmind]

cats and short-lived happiness

(How should I even start this?)

It's been almost 3 years since I've posted anything on this blog. All I can say is, life happens, struggles happen. I had one horrible school year, then spent the next two years trying to pick myself up while handling work and everything else. There were some good times, I mean it wasn't all bad, but I couldn't really find myself. I could go about my days, completing one task and one responsibility after another, but I felt this deep unhappiness within me.

It's really hard to explain. All I can say is that my heart felt like an huge knot that was difficult to untie. Some things triggered me and it might suddenly strap the knot tighter, then I would break down. Then the knot would loosen a bit. I'd feel a bit better, but then another trigger would come.

"Maybe it's time for a change." A close friend and mentor told me.

I think he may be right.

Every year, my church holds a retreat camp during Easter. Because of the pandemic, this practice stopped for a few years and just resumed this year. I awaited eagerly for it. One, I haven't been to a trip / camp where I can relax and enjoy myself since the pandemic started. Two, I really need to be in an environment where I can find space to quiet myself.

So Good Friday came. Onwards to the camp.

We were encouraged to spend some time with ourselves once we arrived at the campsite. It's a free time where you can just walk around, or sit at a particular spot, and talk to God.

The campsite was much smaller than I pictured. Some parts were also under renovation, so there were a lot of barriers when I walked around it and the places where I could choose to meditate were very limited.

Then, I saw a cat bathing in the sun within one of the sites that was under renovation.

Yes, I love cats, and this particular cat looks similar to the one I adopted.

I tried to find a way to get closer to it, but all the barriers blocked every possible entry point, so I resigned to simply stand at the spot and look at its relaxed pose. The cat rolled and stretched on the ground for a few minutes. Then, as all strays do, it decided it's time to leave and I watched it strolled leisurely away from the campsite.

I asked, God, please let me see the cat again! That would be a miracle.

Then immediately, my head started conjuring amazing, unbelievable stories where I meet up with this miracle cat again during this retreat camp.

But right after, I knew my hopes would not come true. Who am I kidding? Why would a stray return? Why would God listen to me?

Amidst my two contrary thoughts, I started asking - why then let me see the cat, if it won't stay forever?

Eventually, God prompted me to think at a different angle -

Do I need the cat to be happy?

There are many things in life that make me happy - cats, books, food. None of them lasts forever. No matter how great these things may be, one day I will finish eating that dish, or read the last page of a great novel, or the cat has to wander to a different place. And sometimes, there may be barriers to prevent me from enjoying these things.

It's no one's fault that I cannot enjoy these things forever. It's just how life works.

The question, I guess, is whether I can be happy despite not attaining the kind of happiness I want.

***

Before the cat left, I did take a video of it rolling on the ground. I replayed the video again and again during the camp. Every time I watched it, I find myself smiling.

It didn't stay. It didn't appear again. But it did appear. That's already a blessing from God.

[thehibernatedmind]

They have reached a critical point. If their opponent wins the next point, it will be all over. It would be easier if their opponent is not a beast, but that’s not the case. It is then that their coach reminds them the essence of volleyball - it’s a sport in which you are always looking up.

But how can you still look up when you feel down?

The main theme of “Haikyuu” is that there is no such thing as a genius. No one is born a genius. Even if you are good at something, you still have to work hard and improve yourself. Success only comes to those who are passionate enough to keep moving forward, to climb the next Everest, and never stay assign to fate. There is no such thing as a free lunch. “Haikyuu” is a story about volleyball, but if you change the subject of the story, it can still bring out the same theme, for in its core, it is a story that discusses what should be the correct work ethic for life. How should we live if we want to live a life without regrets?

The answer is: we live a life in which we keep on looking up.

Just thinking about it is tiring though. Most days, we just wish we could lie down forever, but what sort of life would that be? For what is life if not one hurdle after another? Life is meant to be lived and to live means we have to keep moving.

So how can you still look up when you feel down? You just need to keep yourself from looking down. It’s tiring, but it’s either this, or regretting your decision for giving up in the first place, because trying is better than wasting your life away.

[thehibernatedmind]

i look at the withered flower and smiled

Mild spoiler for the Japanese film "I Fell in Love Like a Flower Bouquet".

I like tragedies, but I don't like it when they happen to me. I mean, who would? It's a perfectly normal and reasonable preference. Yet, the Japanese film "I Fell in Love Like a Flower Bouquet" encourages me to view tragedies differently.

It's not that the movie teaches me a completely new lesson. More like it reminds me what is life.

("I Fell in Love Like a Flower Bouquet" Movie Poster)

The story is simple: a boy and a girl, both have particular tastes in art and culture, feel disconnected from the people around them until they meet each other. It is as if fate is waiting for them to meet and they are destined to be with each other, as they quickly realize they share similar preferences and values. They embark on a relationship and seek to live against the norm, yet the reality of the capitalist society eventually becomes hard to ignore and they have to decide on what sort of person they wish to become, and where exactly is their relationship going.

The story itself is predictable. What makes the film so memorable to many is its commentary on this generation's youths, youngsters who wish to live a so-called "cultured" life in a capitalist world. But in its core, the themes aren't new: the reality of adulthood can easily kill our youthful dreams, how idealism cannot take root and pursuing it in the real world does not end well, how good things never last forever. These aren't new ideas. I like the simplicity of the plot, the music, and the mood of the film, but its message isn't groundbreaking.

Yet I still cried near the end. I guess this is a sign that I'm still young. I still dream and I still wish my dreams can one day come true. I still wish there is a chance where I don't need to compromise with reality. So when the film shows how such belief is a sign of naivety, the realization still crushes me.

That's not how the film ends though. Spoiler alert. The ending is not sad. Oh, no, I mean they broke up - that is not really a spoiler, since it is stately clearly at the beginning of the film and hinted in the trailer - but it's a happy ending.

Oh yes, our youthful passion cannot last and reality is cruel, but who says we cannot look back at our younger days and smile at what we lost? A flower may bloom in spring and wither in winter. But that's how a flower "live". We cannot change its nature but it doesn't mean a withered flower is not worth smiling at.

All that is beautiful may fade, but it doesn't lessen its beauty. I guess we need to be reminded of that.

[thehibernatedmind]

half-pint diary #5: “biking in the rain”

That's literally what I did. There's no metaphor.

Is this a new breakthrough for me? I'm not sure. But I really wanted to do it.

Life doesn't like to go my way. When it was time to work, the sun comes shinning over the city; but whenever I planned to head out for exercise with friends, it's grey with rain.

It's as if I'm bound to work forever and nothing else.

It's a few days before the school year starts. Every day when I had meetings, the blue sky appears to lift up our weary hearts. Yet it is on the day when I finally had time to relax and ignore the coming of September, I woke up to the pattering of raindrops on my bedroom window.

"You can still go cycling", my mom said. "I'm sure the rain is temporary."

I said, I'll wait and see how my friend decides.

My friend was still positive at around seven. When eight came, he wasn't so sure anymore. There was a thunderstorm signal.

"But there's sunshine," my mom insisted on messenger, after I typed the cycling trip would most likely be canceled.

"Ignore the weather. Just go out and ride the bike," my dad encouraged. "I can see sunlight from here."

I thought about the time when we had to cancel kayaking, and then the time when we went to Fanling by car instead of on our own bikes.

We're biking, I texted my friend. If that's what you want, my friend replied. So we met at around lunchtime, with our jackets and bikes.

I really thought the sun would come up when we headed out. But the weight of the rain never stopped falling on my head and on my clothes as we rode towards Tai Po. The sky was completely dark and grey, with occasional flashes of lights. We had to take stops and find shelter on the way, just to be on the safe side and hide from the lightning. But we still made it to Tai Po, bought some snacks to keep ourselves warm from the cold, then rode back to our homes. The entire trip took around 6 hours.

I came back home with my clothes sticking onto my skin, my bike covered with sand and fallen leaves, my cat was glancing behind the gates, bewildered as I cleaned up my bike outside my apartment, my legs sore from the workout.

But I didn't regret the trip one bit.

[thehibernatedmind]

half-pint diary #4: “sweet-less”

The last school day of this school year, I carried bags of sweets back to home. Candies, cupcakes, and the like. They were parting gifts from colleagues who were leaving. I was so full after that day's lunch, I couldn't eat a single piece.

The next day, I put one into my mouth. The sweetness was like a sharp knife cutting into my throat. The day before, my colleagues were still smiling between tears and taking one photo after another with friends they hold dear. But now, I couldn't taste their smiles. I felt nauseated. Recently, it was just one heavy rock after another (see my previous post). I am not pushing one huge rock up the hill. I am pushing several. I said I wanted to escape. I tried, but I couldn't escape my mind.

I went out for a short walk today. I was feeling fine this morning, but when I was alone, anxiety came clouding over my mind. I started thinking of the future, of worst case scenarios, of the never-ending problems caused by people around me. I prayed to God. I just wanted everything to have a conclusion. I wanted the problems to end.

God answered by reminding me of the stories I have been hearing from my older friends, of their problems, of their struggles. No, it is as if He's saying, it's not going to end any time soon. When you grow older, life would just grow harder, more weary, more difficult. "If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses?" (Jeremiah 12:5, ESV)

Can you accept that? Can you trust me when I say you will be fine? I hear him asking.

At that moment, I feel like Holden when Pheobe puts the red hunting hat on him to shield him from the rain.

I ate the sweets I have left. I still don't really like the taste that much, but it seems a bit more enjoyable.

[thehibernatedmind]

a half-pint teacher

I never wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to be so many things before I decided to accept a teaching job. I liked reading, so I thought about becoming a librarian, a writer, a bookstore owner. And when I had zero idea on how to become any of those things, I thought of becoming a literature professor, because then I get to read and write for a living (oh, to be innocent and naive).

Nevertheless, in all those imagined scenarios, I had this urge to connect others. I thought of conversing with people about books and life if I’m a bookstore owner. I thought of writing exciting narratives with encouraging messages for the uninspired masses. I thought of interacting with college students when I become a university lecturer and discussing nothing but literature.

I wanted to connect, but it’s always my second priority, because I am also afraid of connecting.

If only I can reach other people indirectly, whether it is through literature or through writing, that would be great.

I just never thought “teaching” would be that indirect means.

I landed with a teaching job in a secondary school out of grace and luck. Like I said, I never wanted to be a teacher, but my teacher from my alma mater contacted me when I was unsure what path to take.

It was like standing at a crossroad, and then a sign suddenly came up, indicating the path I should head towards.

I took it. And so began my two, three years of soul-searching.

The first year was a nightmare. Then I started to find my place in my second year. And then came this year, which I became confused, because I was hit with an unbelievable realization: I don’t hate my job.

My colleague (and ex-teacher) invited me to help out with a social service to teach Cantonese to a small group of Japanese mothers living in Hong Kong. Because we are not fluent in Japanese, we asked my student of Japanese background to join in the service. The Cantonese lesson was conducted during a long school holiday, so in a sense, it was additional work during a break. To be honest, I thought of it as a task to be completed.

My colleague was busy, so the PowerPoint was completed only the day before the lesson. He asked me to take a look at it. I started seeing some mistakes in the Japanese my colleague had typed in the PowerPoint (because I am learning the language through self-study), and was uncertain whether some parts of the PowerPoint was clear enough. I was so invested in it that I called him and started discussing how to improve the teaching material.

It was actually fun. I found myself looking forward to the lesson.

The next day, we met the Japanese mothers via zoom. There were some hiccups at first, because we were trying to find a way to communicate. My colleague and I were only fluent in Cantonese and English, and the Japanese mothers were not. I wasn’t sure whether my student was confident enough to do all the real-time translations. But my worry over my student was over once she started speaking. Her Japanese was fluent with very little hesitations. Most importantly, the Japanese mothers were really taking notes, following us along, and asking questions.

At the end of the lesson, when we gave our final remarks and thanks, I told the Japanese mothers I really appreciated the effort they put in the lesson. My colleague then added, “Believe her when she says this, because she really is a teacher.”

Yes, I am. I found my heart whispering back. I am not sure if I am one, but somehow, I am.

Recently, I just started watching / reading “Assassination Classroom” (because so many of my students loved it, and everyone says it is an anime / manga for teachers). It is not by any means a perfect story, but I really appreciate its central message, for it is as many have said, a story about education. As a teacher, it is not difficult to find resonance in the plot and the characters.

One of my favourite part of the story so far is when Nagisa first battle with the “substitute teacher” Takaoka. The reason I like this arc is not because of how Nagisa beat a tyrannical authoritative figure (which, I admit, was pretty cool), but because of the lesson that Karasuma-sensei, a trained assassin who suddenly became this group of students’ teacher, learned from this incident.

Karasuma believed Nagisa had what it takes to win against the brute force of Takaoka, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if his choice was right. When it turns out his perception was correct and Nagisa even out-performed his expectations, Korosensei says this to Karasuma:

What I value in these panels is its candid reflection of what it means to be an educator. I have two and a half years of teaching experience, but I never once felt that I am a successful teacher. Every lesson, to me, is a gamble. I have prepared what I have, but I have no idea whether it will work on the class I am about to teach. Being a teacher often means preparing for failure and struggling with doubt. What Korosensei says is true: When you are in a classroom, you actually don’t know what you are doing most of the time, but you need to act as if you do, because you are supposed to be "the teacher".

I do not like feeling uncertain, and I want to escape from the possibility of failure. But it is through confronting this on a daily basis that I discover the value in these uncertainties.

Because Korosensei has a point.

When you are able to meet students who work hard, who perform out of your expectations, who are willing to listen to your lesson and look up to you, despite how uncertain and unprepared you are, that feeling outweighs any form of joy and happiness.

That is the weird, vulnerable, and incredibly wonderful bond between a mentor and his or her student.

Panels taken from Ch.42 of "Assassination Classroom" by Matsui Yuusei-sensei.

[thehibernatedmind]

failure

I am constantly haunted by unwanted memories.

Past mistakes, because I was too young, too foolish.

(As if that’s an excuse.)

(I wonder how many lives I have destroyed because of said foolishness.)

I am a failure, trying, but failing all the same.

But I cannot show myself as a failure, because the world does not approve of a failure.

I am perpetually exhausted, because life is a stubborn engine, refusing to turn off and rest.

Time moves forwards, never backwards, and never stopping.

And so, my brain keeps on moving.

There’s a flaw in my system, in their system, in the world’s system.

It seems it cannot be changed.

Perhaps, it does not need to.

[thehibernatedmind]

Haruki Murakami’s “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” (pt.2)

This post includes some minor spoilers for the novel.

After writing the last post on “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle”, I feel like there’s still some unfinished business with this book, for when I looked at the magical realism in the novel, it seemed like Murakami is painting an indifferent world, in which humans are merely thrown into. But when I think about it, the book isn’t really that bleak, and the protagonist, Okada Toru, sort of proves that.

One thing that made it difficult for me to get into the novel at first was Toru’s passivity. It is of course essential to have an active protagonist, or else we won’t have a story. But for most of the novel, things happened to Toru, instead of Toru making things happen, and it does make the reading experience a bit stale.

But as I was thinking about how the novel offers no explanation about the strangeness of Toru’s reality, I begin to realize this sounds kind of depressing. Yet, the novel does not feel depressing, because Toru eventually makes a choice.

After his wife Kumiko left, the Kano sisters tell Toru to give up on finding the cat (the symbol of marital bliss) and to leave Japan for a while, but in the ending of Book 2, Toru decides to stay and find Kumiko. No, to be more accurate, he is still waiting for something to happen most of the time. Then how is that a change in Toru’s character?

I think we often forget waiting can also be a choice. Toru waited before and after he made a decision to stay. In appearance, it’s as if he has no character development, but Toru’s purpose for waiting is different in these two scenarios. Before Kumiko left, he just left his job. He is aimless and is simply waiting for something to happen. After Kumiko left, he is going against what the world is telling him to do and chooses to wait for something that can guide him to his wife. 

Choosing to wait is his act of defiance against a world that doesn’t make any sense, a world that forces us to move along its strange flow. The reappearance of the cat, despite Malta Kano’s prediction that it will never come back (and her predictions are written to be flawless and always accurate), is a representation of Toru’s defiance against the reality that is constantly out of his control, and this is because he chooses to stay and wait. This simple choice directs how the story is going to go.

So is Toru a passive or an active character? I’ll say he is an actively passive character. Toru is the proof that in a world that moves uncontrollably, sometimes, passivity can be an action. Because, ultimately, our overt actions are not the most important thing. What drives those actions are our choices, and what we choose can make a difference.

[thehibernatedmind]

Haruki Murakami’s “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” (pt.1)

Reading Haruki Murakami’s novels can be frustrating, because they give you many questions, but they don’t always give you the answers. You can brush this off by saying that’s the thing about magical realist novels (and Murakami is very famous for writing those), where strange happenings are part of reality. But I often think the point of magical realist literature is to ask: what’s the point in adding magic in a realist setting? Why make reality unexplainable?

Exactly that.

I can’t say I have read enough Murakami’s books to say this, but I get the idea that his books tackle the complexity of the human existence more than societal issues. Whenever I pick up his books, there is a feeling of kinship you find in his words, as if the writer understands your confusion regarding your life on earth.

Take The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle as an example, which I have just finished. The novel is about Toru Okada’s strange adventures after his cat went missing. Some of the “strange” incidents are explained. Most are not, like the Kano sisters’ and Mr. Honda’s powers, how Toru can travel to an alternate reality in dreams, and how that alternate reality can influence the current reality. It is as if magic is very much part of our real world, which in itself sounds contradictory.

But isn’t that life? The world we live in, despite how the education system teaches us to find reasons to explain it, defies explanation. Philosophy has tried decades to use logic to solve our existence, and there is still so much science cannot prove. Reason, though useful, cannot help us understand ourselves completely. Why are we who we are? What triggers us to kill? Why are we still alive? When do we die? Why do we keep on living?

Is there a reason for the things that happen to us? 

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle gives this answer: not always. And that’s the reality of our lives. Despite the fact we need answers, life doesn’t always offer one. If it is meant to be, it’s meant to be. If Mr. Honda says Lieutenant Mamiya will live a long life, Lieutenant Mamiya will not die in the Second World War. There are just times when you have to admit you are too stupid to understand your own life.

The magic in Murakami’s books is not an escapism, but a confrontation.

[thehibernatedmind]

a half-pint’s diary #3

The summer holiday started almost three days ago, but it doesn’t feel like I’m on holiday. I forget whether I also feel this way every time I’m on a long holiday, but I have enough reasons to justify why I feel this way this time.

It feels like the work never stops and never will.

I have plans for relaxation - books I want to read, shows I want to watch, but every time I start, say, reading a book, a tiny assistant still likes to knock at the back of my head - hey, you forgot something.

What, I ask.

Something important you missed, he says.

If I missed it, then I must have forgotten about it. You need to remind me what it is.

...I just know it’s something important.

The last two weeks - no, the last month - were like living in a tornado. Endless rushed deadlines, numerous stupid mistakes, student problems, problems raised by parents, last minute changes...and the reason for the tornado? Our invisible ninja monster, COVID-19.

Today, I am out of that tornado, with all the year-end business settled and the summer study plans for the senior form students more or less planned. But my heart cannot be stilled after such a turmoil.

I want to disengage, but that tiny assistant keeps reminding me - the tornado may return any second.

[thehibernatedmind]

living ordinarily in extraordinary times

I've been meaning to write this, but I'm also avoiding it. Because everything seems fine, but I know it's not. My brain knows this. But my heart is afraid to confront it.  

It is hard to accept you are living in your city’s worst nightmare.

Nothing much changed really. This week, I go to work, eat, socialize, sleep, looking forward to the summer holiday, mentally planning the books and tv series and films I'm going to catch up on. Yet, when I get out of bed every morning, there is that feeling that someone is watching you, an invisible being reminding you that something has changed. I walk down the streets. It's the same streets I have been walking for months, even years, but I can picture it as I'm walking – a desolate place, wind sweeping up the fallen leaves on the streets. A familiar place, yet more solemn and empty, and I'm walking in it, paralyzed with hopelessness and helplessness.

Everything's the same, yet everything's changed.

Our lives carry on in shackles and unshed tears, the casualties of our leaders' fears. As our leaders are too busy displaying the power they hold, we become the ones who bear those fears, which play out in our imaginations, where we picture what-if scenarios that may become our reality in any second. Will this ever end? What if this lasts forever? Can I escape from this? What will happen if I do escape?  

Who is going to help us?  

Dylan Thomas once wrote,

The five kings count the dead but do not soften The crusted wound nor stroke the brow' A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven; Hands have no tears to flow.

Our leaders vowed to take care of our needs, but they never try to understand our pain. Instead, they spend their time painting one narrative after another, until one day, that narrative becomes common sense and the truth becomes a distant whisper we cannot hear...

But our weapons are intangible, like the fear we now bear. We need to remember our pain and our hopelessness, the events they hope we would one day forget. We need to remember what we experienced in the past year, how we used to live, and why it is important to us.  

We will live and survive, despite the fact that our streets are desolate, because we remember why they are desolate. Our memory is, and will be, our greatest weapon. Our tears will be our armor.

They can silence us. They can paint one lie after another. But they cannot stop us from being we are.

We will not grow complacent.

"Society doesn't always do what's right. That’s exactly why we ourselves must live virtuous lives." ~Akane Tsunemori, Psycho-Pass

3 July 2020 - three days after the city died

[thehibernatedmind]

a half-pint’s diary #2

I was not having a particularly good day. Not that anything big happened. Just those days - which is most days - when I feel like I’m carrying a rock in my chest and the world seems to be colored in blue.

I was flipping through my instagram account - as you do when you are procrastinating - and I came across a photo, taken in October last year, of me and three students from my form class during a special lunch gathering organized by the school. Somehow, that photo struck a chord with me, because I was so happy then, but I know that feeling only lasted in that lunch period.

I remembered entering the hall fuming. I just finished a lesson with the senior form students and it did not go well. I was trying to teach, but the students were only concerned about food and meaningless gossip. It was difficult not to be distracted when there were only 6 students in my class. On top of that, I had not even ended the lesson when a few students from another class already walked into the classroom, ignoring my presence. I felt disrespected and it wasn’t the first time I had that feeling since I started this job. I was angry at the students for their behavior. I was angry at myself for not doing anything about it. I was so furious I couldn’t even speak.

So after lesson, when I arrived at the spot where I was having lunch with the three students, I blurted out, “I’m very angry right now.” I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. Normally, it doesn’t feel right to let your students know the difficulties you are facing in your job because, well, they are part of your job. It’s like you work for multiple clients and you complain to your client John about your other client Mary, who was not cooperating.

But my students listened. They, of course, didn’t offer any advice. But I could feel that they were listening to me. I felt like I found a shelter among the storm and in that moment, I could ignore what happened a few minutes ago and stop worrying about what will happen after lunch. I just focused on enjoying that short one hour of lunch time with my three students. And man, did we have fun. I made random jokes that actually made them laugh, and we actually laughed till tears were rolling down our cheeks. (I never considered making jokes to be my talent.)

The lunch ended. We said goodbye. I headed back to the staff room, feeling somewhat comforted...until my colleague, who is partnered with me to take care of my form class, asked me, “Did you notice anything weird between those three during lunch?” I said no. I mean, we laughed pretty hard. Everyone was happy.

A few days afterwards, I learned that there were a few students in my form class hurting themselves, and it’s related to a quarrel between two of students I had lunch with.

I am looking at that picture now - where our smiles were frozen in that one hour, bright and genuine. Happiness sure is a tricky bastard, isn’t he?

[thehibernatedmind]

a half-pint’s diary #1

It really takes a coronavirus to give you time to reflect. Not that I have time. Teaching at home is a new monster of its own. But it does give you space once you get used to it.

It really shouldn’t come off as a shocker, but I do miss my students (my source of joy and frustrations).

I have my own standards when it comes to people. I am careful to draw the line when choosing friends. It’s been a year and half since I started this career, and my students never stopped stepping on my line. I think it’s normal. Probably 2 out of 10 students will meet a teacher’s standard for being a model student. The others will always find ways to irritate you.

But it’s the irritating ones that give you the biggest surprise.

I find myself keep going back to last year’s Easter Camp, where the group of students I have to lead include one of the laziest, most irresponsible kid in my class. After their first activity, I just knew he was going to blow up at others and complain how they could have done better if A did this or if B didn’t do that.

So I said a prayer before leading because oh my God why did I need to handle this stupid kid.

But God, true to His word, gave me wisdom. I really didn’t plan for this to happen:

When we sat down for debriefing, I let the students rant because I knew he was definitely going to rant. And he did. He blamed others for any failure they encountered along the way.

So after he’s done, I said to every student, “Why don’t we try this: I’ve let you rant, let’s put down the negative stuff for a second and say something appreciative?”

And, one by one, the students start appreciating that kid, saying stuff like “I know he gets mad all the time, but he really puts a lot of effort into the game. He cares about it in a way that we didn’t.”

The kid didn’t say much throughout it all. Acting all normal. But near the end of the sharing, he added, “There’s someone I want to appreciate too.” I let him share.

He didn’t show how touched he is. And I didn’t show how surprised I was. But I was surprised. I still am. How other people’s praises can encourage a person to change, just for one night.

Maybe this is all this kid needed. Maybe this is what’s missing for him.

[thehibernatedmind]

Manga Snapshots: All Might & Aizawa (bnha ch. 257)

I got attracted to My Hero Academia because of the story (I’m a sucker for the fantasy / superhero genre), but it is character moments like this one that keeps me reading.

This one, the one from the latest chapter, moved me. And as a teacher, it’s not hard to see why.

All Might has reached his limit many chapters ago and we have learned of his inevitable death (as foretold by Sir Nighteye) a few chapters after that. It is pretty much established that All Might, despite the all-powerful image he has created for himself over the years, is now utterly useless, powerless.

All Might is at his most vulnerable and here, he is admitting his powerlessness:

Whenever the students grow more, I feel this stifling pressure that I can’t do anything for them.

His students (specifically Midoriya, in the context of this chapter) grow stronger, but he can just sit back and watch, too weakened to help, too inexperienced to provide the knowledge that Midoriya currently needs. He wants to push harder and be the mentor that Midoriya can still look up to (”I’ve decided to live”).

I’m not in the same situation as All Might, but I can identify with his vulnerability. There are many times when I feel myself unequipped to teach, feeling that I lack in experience and ability to really help my students learn. My mind keeps telling me that I have to think of new ways to make my students more interested, to attract their attention, to assist them in areas they fail to understand...

But Aizawa sees through all that:

You’ve done enough for them already. You’re alive and you’re here. There are a lot of people who gain strength just because you’re alive.

I often forget. It’s not always the “doing”. It’s the “being” that matters the most. We live and we make the best out of that life - that’s what makes a difference to people. Sometimes, there’s just no need to push ourselves. Instead, we just need to accept that we, at this moment of ourselves, are enough for others.

[thehibernatedmind]

Ki-woo, you know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. No plan. You know why? If you make a plan, life never works out that way. Look around us, did these people think 'Let's all spend the night in a gym?' But look now, everyone's sleeping on the floor, us included. That's why people shouldn't make plans. With no plan, nothing can go wrong and if something spins out of control, it doesn't matter. Whether you kill someone or betray your country. None of it f*cking matters. Got it?

Parasite (2019), directed by Bong Joon-ho

This quote appears as if it’s written for me at this particular moment when I got hit by a wave of uncertainties out of my control. 

There are choices in life, but more often than not, we are put in a situation where we can just look to the sky and say, “I didn’t choose this.” And we really didn’t.

(Great film by the way. Thought-provoking, beautiful cinematography, haunting.)