Lamentation

Of all the emotions across the entire spectrum, sorrow makes its presence readily felt. Sorrow tints even the most euphoric of situations, completely envelops scenarios depicting utter despair and apocalyptic mayhem. It is sorrow that is most tangible, most plausible and nearly impossible to dismiss regardless of an individual's level of emotional mastery.

As the days oozed into weeks, the initial inspiration, motivation and encouragement morbidly morphed into frustration, altercation, consternation. On hindsight, such an outcome would not have transgressed had the first step not be made, had the initial foray into the dangerous yet tantalising unknown be embarked on. 

Alas, all had transpired, and even if it was encapsulated in uncertainty, shrouded in hopelessness and punctuated with monumental dread, it was undoubtedly worthwhile.

Now, the banquet must end, and all that remains is the need to mitigate the damage, to cut the losses.

To end it all.

As the conjoining pillars fall and waste away, one can only hope that sanity will not follow suit, plunging into abysmal despair and into a downward spiral of destruction. The moves have been made, the subtlety has been conveyed and whatever resources have been expended to exhaustion. The status quo however, is still unfathomable, indiscernible, undifferentiated: like a sealed Schrodinger’s box, as it had been from the very beginning. 

Perhaps it is time to hark back to simpler periods, when such matters took a backseat from the other facets of life. 

Perhaps it is time to transcend this futility and move into an adjacent, more soothing realm of existence.

Perhaps Occam's Razor should be applied, and followed all the way through.

Even if it goes against every thought, feeling, emotion.

That inevitable eventuality has surfaced, and now it is instrumental to fade back into the background, to disintegrate back into the shadows of oblivion. 

Just as it was from the very beginning.

Yet Another Year

I probably should have posted this a week or two back, but didn't get around to do it. Regardless, here it is, a faithful port from my Facebook note. :D

~~~

When the end of a year rolls around, it's pretty amazing and scary at the same time. An assortment of thoughts will no doubt flood through the tiny little human head, thinking of what had been done the past year, what was missed and of course what could have been. Then the new year resolutions will start to formulate themselves, and the requisite plegdes to honor those resolutions will also begin their shaky, twisting journey through the year.

This note will be one such resolution: to pen down what I have accomplished at the end of each year.

Thinking back, 2011 was really a roller coaster ride of varied emotions. Life itself wasn't particularly tough nor harrowing, in fact, it was pretty gracious in that it opened and reopened several new outlets to my sphere of existence (more on that in a bit). It was the mental exercise that has always plagued my logic circuitry, the tendency to overthink a matter to the point of self-absorption relative to its impact on my immediate or even delayed environment. Then again, it is this thinking process that governs my being, and has long been a crucial and even vital element that defines my person, however flawed it may be.

2011 was the year that I completed all course requirements for my degree programme, which means that I have sort of graduated from the tertiary journey I began almost 1.5 years ago. The fact that I managed to maintain decent grades while juggling both a full-time job and evening classes gave me a little boost in the confidence department, which has been losing staff in recent times.

This particular job I took during my entire degree stint also broke a personal record: the longest period of being a full-time staff at a single company. Throughout the 13 months at NYP, I learned a great deal about it's sector of business, the way our education system operates and of course the perks and hazards of the working world. While not exactly a permanent staff of the institution, I was still exposed to a lion's share of office politics and shenanigans, which forced me to learn on the job and take the necessary action. In short, working made me "deal with it", my most-used and most-parodied mantra yet.

NYP also expanded my social sphere, blessing me with a bunch of younger kids who are a blast to be with. Working with them made the dreadful time pass faster, and although we had our differences in opinion and character, we managed to sort things out and come out of our disagreements maintaining the status quo, or even with an improvement to the current relations. I wish for all of them to be happy and cheerful, and please remember this uncle with whom you worked with for the better part of 2011.

Even if I like writing, it didn't occur to me that the things I say would be important or even noticeable enough to be put on the national press. Let's face it, Singapore is too small a country to differentiate our media by regions or towns: every form of traditional media here in our tiny island is national press. I wrote in to Today four times in 2011, and each letter was published in either the online format or print format. The very first article I wrote in made the "headline letter" section in the edition of Today it was published in, and it sure made me feel glad. Apart from Today, one of my letters was also sent to The Straits Times, who phoned me and said that my letter was being considered for publication. Even if it did not make it into the eventual edition of the newspaper, being considered was good enough - it is like being nominated for an Oscar award, your merit has been recognised by some higher deciding power.

2011 also showed me the reality of the world: the SCAPE fiasco brought some cold hard truths to bear. There really exists people in the world who would just leave a commitment behind and expect it to be better three months later. Even if no tangible reward is available to those directly involved in the project, at least afford us some god-damned gratitude: we don't slog our lives away after our daytime commitments to be given reprimand - if I'd wanted that kind of treatment I would have signed on with the army. The only silver lining in this dark cloud were the true friends who rose through the darkness and pulled through together, while disregarding several undeserving imbeciles unworthy of my attention and respect. In all, 2011 both forged and destroyed friendships, for all reasons on the spectrum.

If there is to be a defining event in 2011 that overshadows all others, it will be my month-long trip to the United States of America. By itself, the event shattered a number of records: destroying my slight fear of flying, demolishing my fear of traveling, eradicating my fear of living together with people apart from my family and close friends, obliterating my fear of life in the USA and of course removing my fear of not adapting to a different environment. The trip also marked my first forary out of our sandy shores in probably a decade, and is also the longest period of time I have stayed alone overseas.

The trip proved to be a fruitful one, exposing my senses to a non-Singaporean environment and really being an absolute eye-opener. Halfway throughout the trip I felt like the proverbial frog in the well, narrowed educated but slowly creeping out of my comfort zone to learn more. Living alone abroad posed a significant number of challenges, but I made it through without dire eventualities or causes of concern, so that is an absolute plus.

Snapping photographs during my journey in the USA also opened my doors to the beautiful world of digital photography. A camera's ability to capture a that specific sequence, to crystalise that Moment, is really a remarkable invention. To me, photographs serve as, well, photographic evidence and hence memories of whoever and wherever I had the chance to snap pictures of, and memories are things I truly treasure.

On the social front, I seem to still have slight problems conversing with members of the opposite gender. Perhaps the stigma from the previous downfall is still making its latent presence felt, perhaps some innate barrier or protective device is in place to safeguard me from another devastating Fall. Or maybe I am just not ready, despite my insistent statements otherwise. Regardless, better my own heart shattered than anyone else's, they don't have to pay for my own emotional transgressions.

There, I think that should just about cover it. I haven't accomplished much in terms of hard skills, but my softer skills have seen a drastic tempering from work, school and everything else in between.Yes, I still have some ways to go in almost every asepct, but there's no rushing it, these things take time to cement.

In the meantime, I'll deal with it. :)

Happy 2012 everyone, may your paths through this year be paved with polished ivory and bright lit with efficient lamps. :D

Check

Like the passing of a comet through our tiny solar system, my blog posts come and well, don't come, as they please, largely dependent on whether the intellect behind them is in the mood to pen down a post, the state of his emotional well-being or whether he has ranked and prioritzed blogging as imperative over all other things currently within his wide-reaching purview.

Fortunately, this is one such time.

It's been almost three months since the kids left, leaving the office many degrees more silent, and very much colder. Without their energy and personalities to punctuate the drudgery of everyday work, the office is merely an empty construct, devoid of feeling, thought or emotion. It feels as if time had been reversed back to a year ago, when I first set foot on the gray carpeted floor and weaved through the labyrinth of faux wood furniture. I was alone then, and it feels like I'm alone now as well, especially if my only other colleague is manning the front desk.

Sometimes I wonder, how did I survive so long in this place, performing a whole assortment of tasks for a meager paycheck and to put myself through seemingly unnecessary turmoil and torture? I could have easily gone for a full-time degree programme, eradicating the need or feasibility of having a job. But who is going to pay for the car's petrol, ERP, road tax and other associated fees? Who is going to pay for the DSLR? Who is going to pay for my hobby expenditure?

No one, but myself.

I know myself well enough to understand that in order for me to not atrophy into dust by having too much free time on my hands, I have to be put through my paces and challenged, for activity and having stuff to do is the primary source of my being, my fuel if you will. Granted, at times I wish for nothing on my plate, but those periods are rare and fleeting.

Therefore, this work-school arrangement is most optimal for my current and future development, and is a model I will probably adopt to other scenarios if applicable.

On a side note, I thought of this new theory to characterize the process which always finds its way into my blog posts. I call it: the Germ Theory of Affection.

As with all diseases, it starts with a single germ, and this particular germ represents the YY-chromosomed individual who ventured into my system. The germ will be classified as the X-Strain, where X is the name of the individual. As the virus matures and multiplies, my systems start to falter, and eventually I succumb to the full might of the germ, laying my heart bare and ripe for the taking.

If the Strain is strong enough, it would succeed, otherwise, it would withdraw and go into remission. In the event that a particular Strain actually gains control of my heart, a team of specialists and experts will have to pull me from the brink of disaster, and I would have to fight tooth and nail to repress the condition myself. Generally, I would make it and see the next sunrise, but like all superviruses, each Strain will never be wholly obliterated from my systems, they will merely be in remission, awaiting the opportune moment to strike again.

Waiting for the moment to spring a devastating and unexpected relapse.

Even if the Strain isn't particularly damaging or developed, any form of assault on my systems is still considerable, and repeated action would quickly wear down any defenses raised and penetrate my shields. As for the more hi-level Strains, well, let's just say that all it takes is a single touch to take my life.

The Strain which had been in remission and suppression for the past year has awoken yesterday, but it is still weak, still reeling from the pressure put on it the last time it wreaked havoc. Nonetheless, it is now active, but I am biding my time, looking to see how this particular Strain will develop.

We shall see.

Feed the fish kids.

The Degeneration

It is at once scary and also saddening to note that as human beings age, their bodily systems slow to a perceptible crawl, their reflexes slowly but surely grind to a lower new constant and their mental faculties start to falter. Out of the three however, the slowing of the mind and its associated capabilities brings about the most difficulty and anguish, to the person experiencing it as well as to the people unfortunate enough to be around him/her when the brain cells start to die for good.

My grandmother is undergoing that stage right now, having lived vicariously through the deity of gambling for the past eight decades, and then some. Still, she is going strong, and according to one over-enthusiastic and retrospectively irresponsible doctor, healthier than a person ten years younger. If you ask me, she's a bit too strong, to the point that she is exhibiting signs of emotional displacement and displaying severe violent tendencies to her immediate family members.

Three times within a week, she wound up in three different police stations, after running away from home (yes at her goddamned age) due to trivial and wholly unnecessary squabbles with my family members - primarily my Dad - over the maid who had been employed for the sole reason to care for her. What is wrong with just sitting there on the sofa, watching TV and having someone to take care of your every need? Sounds like an awesome time, but then again I'm not grandma.

Everyday she tries to find fault with the maid, picks fights with her which almost always degenerates to forceful stoppage and loud shouting from both sides of the conflict. The innocent citizen - the maid - bears the brunt of the damage, and is powerless to do anything about it, although she knows that everyone in the family except grandma is protecting her. Yet, we cannot be in the house all day, all the time, and truth be told, I am beginning to DREAD coming back to the house, for fear of history, especially last Friday's event, repeating itself.

There I was, in the cinema at Iluma watching Transformers 3 for the second time with my OCU classmates when a flurry of messages from my sister came in, saying that grandma went crazy again and Dad is on his way to the hospital because of a deep cut caused by a fall with grandma when the two of them were struggling. Again, it was because of the maid, or rather, grandma tried to attack the maid when she was just minding her own business, and Dad (and his confrontational character) tried to stop her and shake some sense into grandma. I believe one or the other lost balance and both of them fell to the floor, and Dad cut his forehead on one of the sofa's sharp corners. According to eyewitnesses, a lot of blood was seen on the ground after the incident, and Mom had to accompany Dad to the TTSH A&E for treatment. The messages came halfway through the movie, and had it been my first time watching the show, I would be even more pissed than I was last Friday, like Megatron-pissed.

Having lost focus on the movie, I spent the last 1.5 hours merely admiring the finer details of the SFX, noted the details on The Wreckers' vehicle modes and scrutinized Shockwave's cannon and Optimus Prime's solo rampage through a gauntlet of Decepticons. Straight after the movie, I had to bid the group adieu to rush to the hospital, where my parents were waiting for their turn in the Emergency, and it was only after two hours that we were finally on the way home, with Dad having four new stitches in his forehead.

One of these days, someone is gonna get hurt real bad, and the worst part is, grandma will conveniently forget everything the next day due to her rapidly deteriorating memory.

All these when I'm just about to start class again next week.

Excellent.

Feed the fish kids.