uhpiphany

[uhpiphany]

The Curve of Existentialism

I've always thought that it is a natural phase in every Sociology/ Philosophy (and by that extension, maybe even Physics) student's life to go through some sort of existential depression. You come to realise how piddling your individual life - let alone your problems, choices, and feelings - is in your society, this world, or even the universe. It's always a great humbling experience to ponder about the magnitude of the social and physical world, but it always leaves that bitter tinge, that aftertaste of niggling pessimism. I don’t know what it was like to have lived in the time of the Copernican Revolution but I know what it feels like to be thrown off one's centre, feeling all lost in an expanse of dark matter just trying to grab a foothold and figure where exactly you stand.

And in all that aimless grabbing I found my answer. It doesn't even matter where I stand, but who I stand with. What truly situates my existence in this world is the ties I have created and sustained; the touching of and even the overlaps in our lives. 

-Originally written on 3 Nov 2014

I had a really serendipitous conversation that lasted over 3 hours and suddenly memories that I'd so comfortably tucked at the back of my head resurfaced. One of it was the first identity crisis I had when I was moving on from Secondary school to Junior College, which came in a huge wave of inexplicable fear of "losing myself"; I didn't see that it was because so much of what I'd rested my "self" on was on the people around me - to the point where a change in school and friends felt like a change in who I was. 

I struggled to grasp who I really was, in and of myself, but I couldn't. And I won't ever. 

I didn’t reach a conclusion back then; after all I was none the wiser at 16, and I eventually found other distractions and diversions from this questioning of the self. But I realise now - we are all bits and pieces of one another and it would be nothing more than futile narcissism to take it all apart and define what is "mine" and only mine. Besides, I’ve always believed that the whole is often more than the sum of its parts.

And for that, I just wanna say how much I love all of you who have, knowingly or not, given me parts of you to keep, and have kept parts of me with you. 

-Originally written on 15 Feb 2015, edited 29 Oct 2016

[uhpiphany]

I hardly post on Instagram now; someone's been busy "adulting". 

Yes adulting. What a word. And with every pop phrase/trend, a barrage of criticism quickly and unfailingly ensues. 

 Millennials are used to this, actually, we've been labelled fragile strawberries and selfie-taking narcissists for the most part (like so, above lol). So calling us privileged brats, who tout an array of trivial-sounding feats as "adulting", isn't gonna burst any bubble. There is no bubble. 

As much as we like to adopt a cavalier demeanour and put on a mask of satire or self-deprecating humour, deep down we struggle. Hard. We recognise the bad economy, the changing times, and of course the logical premise of a prolonged childhood and therefore delayed adulthood, but we still try at some level to replicate our parents' timelines. Because they form the baseline of what adulthood is for most of us. And when we find ourselves floundering in our mid-twenties - the age where our parents proudly proclaim to have had it all (read: family and career) together - we think we're falling short. That's when we start grasping at straws to seek consolation in the smallest things. 

 The usage of "adulting" thus likely stems from a sense of inadequacy rather than an inflated sense of accomplishment. It is the tip of a much larger process of negotiating a new notion of adulthood, and when something as inevitable as being an adult climbs back up into our collective consciousness, it can only be a real social issue even when it is not articulated as such. 

 So while we inch towards a new conception of adulthood, I think it may be better in the meantime to focus on overall growth instead of a narrowly-defined transition. To first and foremost work on #howtohuman before #howtoadult.

[uhpiphany]

One of the beautiful things about stories is that they include multiple points of view and do not necessarily seek to resolve the tensions between, and perhaps even within, them.

http://www.todayonline.com/commentary/stories-smart-nation

[uhpiphany]

(For the fellow "stoic":) 

 What did you do today?" "What have you been doing lately?" "What do you wanna do?" 

 We don't ask each other how or what we feel a hundredth as much. Maybe it's sometimes too intimate a question. Maybe it's a cultural thing to just not talk about it; feelings are fleeting, intangible, sometimes "irrational", often times messy, and there's an internalised expectation that we should all be coherent, consistent, and happy people. 24/7. 

As a whole we don't know - perhaps because we were never taught - how to deal with feelings and by some strange logic we think that it's therefore best to just deal with them ourselves. But we often end up simply negating our feelings (and related thoughts) when all they needed was to be validated for that moment in which it was felt. And yet feelings don't get validated if they don't get voiced at all. 

It's a vicious cycle. And a tragedy. That as adults we are unable to talk freely and honestly about our feelings. Our feelings suffer, our thoughts suffer, and when we inadvertently negate the feelings of others because we're so used to negating our own, others suffer. It's counterintuitive, it's gonna be a struggle at times, and of course I'm not gonna attempt - let alone advocate - a 180deg change to indiscriminately spilling emotions all over the table, but it's a step to take towards those close to us at the least. 

 "What are you feeling?" 

"Just glad to be seeing you today."

[uhpiphany]

Tangential

Time and attachment: The former will always be a necessary but insufficient condition for the latter. 

Time does not discriminate; people do. But of which is often revealed by time itself. 

Just 4am thoughts.

[uhpiphany]

The watching and waiting game

Slouched against the rough off-white walls, he watched as a man about his age stepped through the entrance of the bustling heartland mall, deftly maneuvering his way past the evening crowd. The young man was smartly dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves neatly rolled up and his hair carefully coiffed but his face carelessly revealing his annoyance when he found himself caught behind an elderly woman for a couple of his precious seconds. With a quick glance at his watch, he resumed his purposeful gait, soon disappearing into the human sea. 

Like an army of ants, he thought. Each one just going about their own business, navigating their seemingly separate paths with a seasoned dexterity that one inevitably develops in this dense little city. Ants. Humants. He suppressed an internal chuckle at his terrible pun, as his eyes sought a new distraction.

An older man this time, still dressed in his working attire, whisked quickly past. He was carrying his toddler in his arms, who was in turn holding onto a balloon. Half-expectedly (for it is almost a surety that all children eventually do this), the toddler lost his grip of the balloon’s stick, and it fell to the floor. In the split second that followed, no one seemed to pay heed. The little boy remained silent, reacting only with an outstretched arm and a fixed gaze on the white balloon on the floor, as his oblivious father continued his quick strides towards the exit of the mall. 

Just in the nick of time, a girl swooped up the balloon and gave a short chase after the boy and his father. Slowing down but without stopping, she placed the stick of the balloon into the boy’s hand with an almost-athletic precision. The tiny anxious face instantly turned to one of glee; a toddler’s only way of expressing his gratitude. She swiftly turned back towards the mall, a residual smile slowly leaving the corners of her lips. She assumed the same purposeful pace as the young man earlier, her gaze fixated on her destination - the washroom - without looking around for any sort of affirmation of her kind deed. 

She walked right past him. 

He corrected himself - this was a young woman, not a girl. People mix the two up all the time, but he drew a careful distinction. That demeanour was unmistakable.

He straightened himself against the wall and checked his watch, following the second hand for a full 20 ticks. He then looked up again and continued watching the crowd, waiting indefinitely for no one in particular. 

[uhpiphany]

4am

Only soul awake

For sleep is a small puddle 

I can’t fall into.

[uhpiphany]

A custard pudding is placed in front of two young children, who immediately declare their respective halves along an imaginary line and start to dig in. The pudding has finely sliced bananas and diced mangos mixed in it, each on separate sides of the bowl.

The first child happens to choose the half that has the banana slices, and the second, the half with the mango bits. As the banana slices are sweet, the first child eagerly savours every bite. The second child, however, seems to have gotten the shorter end of the stick for the mango bits are sour. She makes a little face, but the custard tastes good, and she continues eating anyway, soon growing accustomed to the sourness of the mango.

At this point, the second child notices that the first child seems to be enjoying the pudding more than she is, which is strange to her, because she thinks they are eating the exact same thing. Children almost never allow their curiosity to go unsatiated, so she asks the first child why she is enjoying the pudding so much. Given their age, both children have yet to learn the associations between tastes, textures, and the relevant nouns and descriptors, and thus are not equipped with the vocabulary to identify the fruits. The first child simply quips, “because...nice!”

As the first child is enjoying the pudding better, she finishes her half more quickly and endeavours into her friend’s half, taking a modest scoop of pudding with two mango bits buried within. Not expecting the sourness of the mango after a good serving of sweet custard and banana, she cringes and drops her spoon. Her friend’s curiosity picked up once more, asking “what?”

“No nice!”

The second child is bewildered, but feels an odd sense of gratification that her friend didn’t enjoy the pudding better than she did after all. The first child has gained an edge in qualia - the internal and subjective component of sense perceptions - but lacks the linguistic ability to express it. At the end of the day, however, is anything actually learnt or shared? 

At what stage in our lives and relationships do uncommunicated, “silent understanding”s actually come about?

[uhpiphany]

To a degree, I do think the marking of a new year tends to get a little overrated given that time goes on at the same pace, not like the earth stopped rotating and revolving. Truthfully though, I can't bring myself to ignore the collective (and personal) meanings we've been giving to every first day of the year; perhaps it really is an honour to have been born on a day where people are at their most hopeful, with endless promises of new beginnings. But this year instead of going all "new year new me", I found myself constantly wanting to hold onto the ties and things that I already have. Because in this transitory period as a young adult, "new" becomes the default condition, and that sphere which contains the constants in life is an ever-narrowing one. So whilst I am thankful for all the new experiences and people I had and met in 2015, and will have and will meet in 2016, I'm more thankful to those who have stuck around, be it a year or 15 (for my parents a whole 23). Have a great day and celebrate not just the day itself but what matters. 🍻

[uhpiphany]

"I'm going for a run", she muttered as she met her mother’s questioning eyes before swiftly grabbing her shoes from the cabinet.

A run. Because that sounded like it possessed a lot more purpose than a walk; or rather a purpose that needed no elaboration unlike that of the latter. 

The air outside was stale; as though the skies were awaiting something with bated breath. The weather forecast - or rather, fauxcast - predicted a storm, but the cirrostratus clouds remained lightly draped across the dusky blue sky.

The water was still, a stunning ersatz of the sky. Then came the first of the evening breeze; a gentle rippling started from the opposite end of the reservoir and the watercolour-like reflection evolved into what seemed to her like a post-impressionist painting, with the orange glow of the stretch of street-lamps growing longer and buckled.

The breeze skimmed across her face and shoulders, picking up loose strands of her hair before dropping them again. She dangled her feet and watched the ripples successively embrace the edge of the grassy bank before disappearing. For a moment it felt like she was on a tiny, solitary island floating across the water, away from the city and from everyone else. 

And in that moment she found solace.

[uhpiphany]

The bottle was suddenly tipped sideways, with the only thing that prevented it from falling on its side being a resting finger on its cap, lightly curled but pointed enough for its cursory purpose, like Adam’s finger in that famous Michelangelo painting. He tilted his head to parallel the bottle’s new axis and his eyelids lowered to an imaginary horizon. He continued gazing through the clear plastic as the water surface fell from a violent slosh to a gentle quiver from the natural tremble of his hand. 

This unintended moment of concentration was broken by a brief flicker of light. He glanced up at the cause of this distraction - a moth. Following its sporadic dance around the ceiling light, he let out a long soundless sigh and lifted his finger from the bottle, allowing it to carelessly rock itself to its original bearing. Outside, a crescent moon was seemingly hanging from a cluster of cumulus clouds. He wondered for a moment how often he, like the moth, had been misguided by illusory goals, before shutting his eyes from the glare of the light and the acute sense of solitude that night.

[uhpiphany]

We deceive ourselves 

The moon and sun never vied 

For our affections

[uhpiphany]

They lived under his bed When he was three and constantly afraid They'd one day break free They never dared strayed To where human eyes could see But as nightmares would dictate They grew, insidiously. Years had made A fine lad of twenty-three They now lived in his head In perfect complacency So there they stayed Till he turned eighty-three Lying on his deathbed Seeing with newborn clarity.

[uhpiphany]

Someplace New

“Let’s go someplace else. Someplace new.”

“New?”

“Yeah, all these places we’ve been - I’ve been - make me feel...are all already so...”

She paused, as her left brain struggled to reach across to the right to make sense of the inner maelstrom of feelings and to pull them into the right combination of letters; a full sentence felt immensely ambitious. Her gaze fell onto the back of her left hand which gripped the cold edge of the stone bench, discovering a set of faded freckles she had never consciously taken the time to look at before. “Knowing something like the back of one’s hand” felt like, at least for that instant, the most undeserving idiom.

“Saturated”, she continued, glancing up to meet his eyes, which were unblinking with anticipation.

“Saturated?” He tilted his head with his brows knitting even closer than before.

“With memories. I want to go someplace new, somewhere with a clean slate, untainted by any past -

Can we?”

[uhpiphany]

Been slacking off the calligraphy these few days, and in place I’ve started my own art journal of sorts, one that I’ve been pushing aside since idk, forever maybe.

Sometimes I feel like this whole phase is becoming more like a slippery slope. The more I get into it the more I relish partaking in all things that I have once said no to because yknow, *STUDIES FIRST*🙌. It’s like all these repressions being first coaxed out, slowly, and then, suddenly realising there’s really no direct opportunity cost (as long as I don’t find a job), these unearthed and newly anarchic interests simply run amok.

It’s a dangerous pleasure, really, to be able to read what you’ve always wanted to, to have the luxury of time to write and think what you want, to delve into a whole myriad of diversions and have absolutely nothing to stop you. And if I’m allowed to be melodramatic, “once a (wo)man has tasted freedom (s)he will never be content to be a slave”. Not saying wage-earners are slaves but it’s a lot of restrictions to abide by nonetheless. It’s an endless cycle of instant gratification that I know I can indulge in because I’m speaking from a position of privilege. A privilege that I did not earn, and will eventually find its price to pay.

All of that above, OR, I can just really make the most out of this stretch of time. Literally make. Paint, draw, write. Even if I fail to make the world a better place as a result, at least I can feel like I’ve enriched my own a little.

[uhpiphany]

Parts of us that we are part of

Is it not strange, how we intuitively use words like ‘people’, ‘society’, or ‘nature’ as though we lead a separate existence? Why do we momentarily detach ourselves from the spaces and communities we belong in with so much ease, so often?

Okay the last one (nature) may be debatable for a bunch of people who like to draw the man-nature dichotomy. Speaking of which I’ve procrastinated from a particular topic which I’ve been meaning to expound on for like a year now; the phenomenon whereby Singaporeans like to use the word “Singaporeans” in a context whereby they are not personally involved.

[uhpiphany]

Krung Thep วัน 2

“We’re going to the zoo, zoo, zoo How about you, you, you?”

Took the BTS to Victory Monument and somehow managed to find the bus stop (many things in Thailand are really an organised mess) and took bus 18 to Dusit Zoo (also known by locals as suan Khao Din, suan generally meaning garden or park). Confidently strode up to the ticket booth and said “thaw neung kha” and saved 50฿ cos the foreigner ticket is 150฿ instead. Yes, in Thailand there’s double, or triple even, pricing in many places and shops; the main division is between Thai and non-Thai citizens whereby the latter can be further split into Asians and “farang"s (Caucasians). I guess it’s great to have a pan-Asian face in such circumstances, but there are the downsides too such as when they assume I’m Thai and ramble on in higher level Thai and I have to guiltily admit I’m "may chay khon Thai” lol. Also, confusion is essentially not a very well received emotion and not everyone will be nice about it. For that reason it’s a daily dilemma whether or not to blend in.

The zoo wasn’t your fancy and gargantuan kind, and a map isn’t needed. They would normally give you one but I guess since my Thai pretence mode was on, they didn’t offer me one. It being a weekday morning, the humble zoo was far from crowded, with just a handful of locals and the rare farang. Even with accidental detours and repeated paths I took 2 hours to cover everything, but well worth my 100฿ I’d say. It is sad to see some of the animals behind cages, but WELL. I leave you with a slew of animal portraits (and misc shots); have what opinions you may.

Walked down to the Ananta Samakhom throne hall but the place was flocked with PRC tourists; I couldn’t even take one non-macro photo without getting some unwelcome human interference in the landscape. 

So I walked a little more out to the King Rama V (Chulalongkorn) Statue before flagging a tuktuk because I was lazy to walk to my next destination (Queen’s Gallery) which was more than 2km away.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

Tuktuk drivers really need to clean up their shit rep and I won’t even bother asking for pardon for the language because I don’t think anyone has/will piss me off so greatly on this trip. Maybe there are nice and decent tuktuk drivers. Maybe. But for me the 1/1 (I.e. a 100% probability with that insignificant sample size but very significant) experience of them being scamming bastards is enough reason for me to avoid them for life. I did ask him how much it was, and he said up to me and seemed really nice and I do have a track record for severely misplacing my trust in strangers because the general faith in humanity is something I choose to hold on to. Besides, it was such a short distance, what could go wrong right?

Everything.

He suggested we drop by this ‘wat’ which was on the way so I was like okay sure. And then it started. He suggested bringing me to a dozen other places and was intensely pushy about it. After the second place I lost my patience and insisted he bring me to the National Museum. His face changed pretty evidently because he sensed I wasn’t buying his silly “tour package” anymore. So when we got to the museum he curtly said “okay I’ll wait here”. I told him he didn’t need to, and asked him how much was the ride. Guess the amount?

1000฿. Bloody hell I could take a domestic flight to Chiang Mai with that money?!

I told him I’m only going to give him 200฿ because I know the ride was only worth that much. Already exorbitant because 200฿ is like 8 trips worth on the BTS. We kind of got embroiled in a strangely civil bargaining process because I naturally can’t rise up to a heated argument (my face on the other hand will offer you the darkest frown without trying) and I suppose it’s in the Thai culture to be “nice” regardless. Inside we probably were both burning but only persuasive words were exchanged. I basically got off the tuktuk and just stood there after compromising to 300฿ and glared at him, refusing to budge. Eventually he lost his patience and drove off.

I suppose the monetary loss wasn’t great on my part but my mood was completely ruined. Compounded with the crazy summer heat and humidity, that internal fury was in dire need of being quelled. It didn’t help that unlike what I’ve acquired online, the entrance fee to the national museum was 200฿ instead of 40฿. I was feeling extra stingy after the tuktuk incident so I decided to move on to the next destination, the national gallery.

That was when my horrid mood was reversed. All it takes is a small act of kindness to overwrite all the previous negativity. The staff at the National Gallery decided to let me in for free as a Thai student; my Thai was at least slightly convincing I would think, until the bit where he told me (in Thai, so there is a probability I didn’t interpret this 100% accurately) that there’s no ticket, Thai citizens can visit for free. I got guilt tripped idk why, so I confessed my national allegiance. But he smiled the sweetest it’s-okay-you-know-I-know smile and directed me to the start of the route. :’)

Trekked towards the Democracy Monument and made a pit stop at the trusty 7-11. I found the Thai version of the Tokyo banana which tastes almost like it but for a fraction of the price. Continued on to the Queen’s Gallery where I bought the Muse pass (a free pass to a whole list of museums in Thailand for just 199฿. Do note however that not all are within bkk; you can google this for more info). The Queen’s Gallery featured watercolour, acrylic, or oil paintings (and a couple of mixed media) by more contemporary artists. It’s small, but the collection is pretty neat. Great for taking your mind off the city bustle-rife with pesky tuktuk drivers-for a while, while you peer closely at the brush strokes, or take a couple of steps back to, literally, see the bigger picture.

Next stop was Rattanakosin Exhibition Hall. Free because of the awesome aforementioned pass. This one is a more fully fledged establishment, with those translator audio headsets I’d only seen on those UN/ international conferences on TV. It’s a 2-hour guided tour, which is highly comprehensive but for those who like viewing exhibits at your own pace, maybe not so optimal. But the bilingual curators provided much commentary that were not available in print, so weigh that up.

Figured I had time to squeeze in the Ratchadamnoen Contemporary Art Center into the day’s itinerary since it was just beside. The first floor exhibition was themed around the Suvarnabhumi airport, and the second floor seemed to be slightly more avant garde. Actually I preferred the latter even if they were much humbler in scale.

Left slightly before the closing time, and was left with the unsavoury task of finding my way back to the hostel. Because I will shun tuktuks with my life from now. Checked for public transport options but was led on a wild goose chase. To cut things short, I walked a distance to a bus stop (nothing more than a pole, really) to wait for a bus that never came. This middle aged lady noticed and asked me which bus I was waiting for (and probably the first time being addressed as “luuk”/ child haha) but she didn’t seem to recognise the existence of the mysterious bus 183.

And the nearest BTS was at least 3km away.

And yes, I walked.

But not without stopping for some real good 20฿ beef and liver noodles. Officially my cheapest meal in my life that consists of proper carbos, guys.🙌

I’d probably traversed a minimum of 6km on foot on that day alone in all and this was why I was too tired to offer my usual lengthy caption on Instagram. #nowyouknow