Suckers

The first principle in any relationship, work, or life in general rests on the fact that we are governed by the rule of reciprocity.

When you have an appreciation for that rule, you can generally extrapolate from that and come to a fair understanding of the state of human relationships.

Reciprocity is the principle that when you give, you receive. You do me a favour, and I do one for you in return. It is mostly an unsaid, unmentioned rule - largely because if you've lived by it all your life, you should never have to bring up the fact that you expect anything less than that. Also, decorum dictates that we do not embarrass another by 'asking' to be reciprocated: typically, a hint suffices.

So how does reciprocity work? There are a few ways, the simplest of it is this: you do something for another, you expect something in return, probably of a similar value (monetary or in kind, that is entirely up to you to judge). Suppose that, today, I pay for your meal. Tomorrow, you'll pay for mine, particularly if it comes to something similar in value. I won't bring up the fact that I had paid for your meal, because it is an unwritten rule that you should reciprocate, and of course there is the expectation that you will do 'what is right'.

Reciprocity also works in the 'negative' sense as well. If you kill my brother, I will want to kill you - i.e. revenge, vengeance. Vengeance is but reciprocity, but expressed in a negative manner.

Naturally, most of us understand the power of this social contract; to violate it will cause discomfort and unease, and only people in love or people so religiously compelled won't expect reciprocation from another individual. And why do I say that it is the base rule for most human relationships?

Take any situation where there is a giving or taking involved and explore it for a second: see if you find an exchange between the parties involved. E.g. the buskers on the street singing / dancing for all to see: you see them sing, feel a twinge of appreciation / pity / and thereby feel compelled to do something to make that feeling 'go away'; and thereby, you drop in a few cans in that tin can, hoping to ease the guilt / show your appreciation / .

However, reciprocity works best under the 'Best Left Unsaid' rule: it is most powerful when the expectation is not communicated, but inherently required; it is weakest when violaters of the rule find a way around it.

Reciprocity is not a well-understood principle for those in love, those who are loved, and the many shades of love that colour the space between.

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If you understand what I mean by that principle, then you will understand where I'm coming from when I talk about what I want to next...

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A while back, when I felt bad about having stopped blogging, I mentioned that I wanted to write a post about succubi. I've changed my mind somewhat about what I wanted to say on that topic.

Largely speaking, I think the idea behind being a succubus is that being one violates the reciprocity principle because there is one party willing to give (the lovesick fool most likely), and one party culpable and capable of leeching (the beneficiary).

The theme is all too familiar to people who have fallen for the likes of, among others, gold diggers, irresistibly beautiful women, the aloof characters, and all manners spanning the various categories.

I find that women who are incapable of giving are attractive (and that, in part, has been my failing). They demand your time, your energy, and have an inordinate ability to consume more of either. Like the drug addict in The Protege (Ed note: great drama, go see), they'll say anything to get what they can from you (within limits - I exaggerate the extent of their machinations of course).

I don't think it is that such women are incapable of loving others; I just think that they cannot love another more than they love themselves. Like the narcissist who falls in love with his own reflection, their sole purpose in life is self-gratification. The love for themselves compel them to find others who can shower love upon them - it is a means by which they find meaning for their pithy existence. It is the only they have the assurance that they are not loving themselves solely, but that there are others who feel they're worthy of love too.

However, the inability to give to others is what fails for the succubus: she takes and is unable to give in return, in a suitable way or for a suitable amount. The relationship with a succubus is doomed because the giver (lovefool) has expectations, and these expectations being unmet will generate discontent. Ultimately, there comes a point where discontent leads to hate, and leads to ill will.

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I have the notion that people can change. I have also a probably naive notion that people can change for love. I don't necessarily mean romantic love though, for love exists in many forms and ways (and Valentine's Day should have brought home that point, both with the singletons and the couplings out there).

I don't think love changes people as much as the giver (lovefool) wants to, and for that, humans are such failures. Perhaps this is also the reason why some find religion to be the perfect escape: when one has received love unconditionally, what else is there to ask for from another uncaring human being?

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In retrospect, I have learnt little from loving others, except to know that I have also been one to give too little in return - perhaps what I see in myself has been reflected in what I see in others. In all too real a manner, I have surrounded myself with people that I know are a reflection of my true nature. In so doing, I have never felt more alone.

I have never felt more like an island, adrift.

From one Desert to Another

Where: Dubai Airport

What?: Yup. It is like the busiest airport in the Middle East and it shows. Haggard transits lounge around the coffee joint where I'm enjoying the free wifi and (finally) a real iced mocha blended that the French hiss their disapproval at.

Whatcha doing there?: I'm transitting. I hate airports and crowds.

Again?: Ok, I'm leaving France and on my way home. Sorry I didn't write about it.

You're forgiven. Now where are you going?: That's a no brainer. I'm going home to Singapore where my heart is.

Why?: Coz I'm finishing up INSEAD over there, and see more of my parents before I start on my next big adventure.

Which is?: a secret... Ok, I don't really know yet, but I hope it'll be in China. Shanghai specifically.

Good luck to you: Thanks.

Anything else to share?: Yup. I never said this out, but there was also the matter of a death in the family. My grandmother passed away like... 2 weeks back. I've not blogged about it because I think it kinds of give away my identity and stuff (there's another thing I want to blog about... but I'll keep that for later).

Sorry to hear that: I hear that a lot. Thanks anyhow.

Miss her?: Kinda. See, I also want to be home for my family because of that. Like, you never know when you'll see them again, right?

Ditto: Yup. Batt's running low. Next time!

Fuzzy Logic

A famous song goes this way:

"Feelings... nothing more than feelings... Trying to forget... my feelings of love"

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It is so hard to answer that simple question "How are you?" without either feeling like I'm not being entirely truthful, or not being entirely succinct. How do you sum up a whole baggage worth of roller-coaster emotions into a supple little paragraph? How do you say the right words, without saying too much, and not sounding like you're copping out of a simple question?

"Fine, I guess."

Wrong answer. It invites more questions.

"You guess? What do you mean? You're fine but not exactly?"

Perhaps "Fine" would have done it. But when your heart is worn on your sleeve, when your face is the reason for your failure in poker tournaments, you know you aren't getting away with a simple answer.

Which is where I face my biggest problem: explaining. No words can fully capture absolutely the emotions that I've felt, or the stupid thoughts that I have thought about. Something can be both true and untrue, much like in fuzzy logic.

I am both happy and unhappy. Happy that things turned out well. Unhappy that things didn't turn out the way I wanted them to.

I am both sad and not sad. Sad that more than 2 years is taken to finally see the inevitability of a disintegration. I'm not sad that it finally dawned on the more courageous one to take the penultimate step towards separation.

I am both surprised and not surprised. Surprised that it had to come during a period of time when nothing registered on the 'danger' radar, that the seas looked calm and winds didn't deliver torrential rain. I am not surprised; we have been living in the eye of the storm for too long, calmly cruising along in the centre of the maelstrom that is a malformed union.

I am both frustrated and not frustrated. Frustrated that my efforts towards keeping the flames alive for the past 2 months were wasted, that it seemed like nothing I did over that period created any impression at all. I am not frustrated with you; the issue had to be dealt with sooner or later - it was just the timing of it all.

I am both resigned and not resigned. Resigned that I'm just not the one right now; resigned to the notion that the attraction isn't there anymore. Not resigned to the fact that someone might be better out there, for no one is a perfect match, ever.

We are friends but not really friends. Friends we were when we first met and friends we return to. But that special moniker known as 'ex' is tagged forever, unless unlikely circumstances alter that hard-to-accept reality.

We forge on - friends.

Home and Postcards from Provence and Cote d'Azur

I'm finally home. I can finally enjoy having uninterrupted Wi-Fi and the peace of mind to slowly upload my photos, sort through my clothes, and work on relationships. This is all the next month is going to be about: relationships.

One of the things you learn from Negotiations Analysis class is the usage of a framework known as the Seven Elements (our instructor, Horacio, absolutely swears by it). One of the elements is Relationship, and it is about considering how you can, and should, build the relationship in any ongoing negotiation that you may have.

Make no mistake about it: destroying the relationship, be it through the careless use of words or inept outbursts of emotion, is detrimental to any negotiation. It is not about being tough and acting tough - negotiations are also primarily about building the bridge between you and your counterpart and working towards a value creating outcome.

Hence, my focus for this summer: relationships. I am already starting by mending the most important one, the one which my future happiness and life depend upon, though the subject of which is somewhat depressing. I never realised how much distance can break a relationship. I never realised that feelings of longing can be so satiated with a simple meeting of hearts. I never realised how much some values meant to other people - too often, I held values with little regard, thinking them hinderances rather than morally upheld principles. I belittled the power of an idea, of a principle.

Next comes the next most important relationships: my parents and my grandmother. My parents have aged before my eyes and I have been blind not to see that ageing process. It is a slow, slow loris that creeps upon you unexpectedly, pouncing on you in the most unexpected way. He is 60, she is 58, and they have reached the point in their lives where the roles have somewhat reversed: he's forced into retirement and whiling his time away; she runs her own business and works insane hours. I'm amazed at the ingenuity my mother has displayed; I'm saddened by my father's spiralling descent from the peak of his success.

My grandmother has few years left, and the dignity to live it has gone from her, for each day is as uncomfortable as the next. Unable to speak properly for the strokes have atrophied the right side of her body. Unable to walk, to eat by herself. Worst of all now, she's unable to control her defecation and urination. I know people who'd rather die than live through a life such as hers - our dignity seems to supercede our quest to live. But she lives on and she has lived well by all accounts. Few years are left to her - she is 90. She wants to go on.

Then perhaps, the relationships that come next: friends. I'm not an initiator. Never has been one to initiate and start something going. I'm the classic tortoise - living in my shell of a house and hoping someone else invites me to the party. Perhaps I want to do something on my own this time. Perhaps I want to reach out, cast my net, and widen that small social circle. Perhaps I want to build stronger friendships.

Perhaps.

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BTW, photos from my trip in Provence and Cote d'Azur below. I hung out with a cool Shanghaiese babe, and an opinionated Beijinger dude. They made the trip really fun (and really tiring as well!).

Old busker playing an accordian. I dropped in 50 cents and asked him not to smile at me.


That disgruntled codger shut his windows on me after spying me taking this picture of him.




She didn't really like me taking candid shots after a while. Such a poseur. :)


Yes, walking among lavender is hazardous to health.


We 3 spent hours searching for the perfect field. We never really found it but this one takes the cake for being the most expansive we found.


My dear friend's 到此游图. He wants one at every significant juncture we reach. :)


Living here = strong calves. Gordes is magnificent.


Pont du Gard - part of an old roman aqueduct that now is a UNESCO world heritage site, and place where tourists dip themselves in the river at low tide.


My attempt at being artistic.


My attempt at being artistic once more.

The changing of the guard at the residence of the Prince of Monaco. The ridiculous affair requires the guards to slap their sides when standing to attention. Several of them were actually portbellied. I fear for the Prince's safety.

See the full set of pictures from Provence and the Cote d'Azur

Looking for Similarities

If you keep looking for differences, then that is all you see.
If you keep finding similarities, then that is all that matters.
Relationships are such: when you want it, you do anything to justify why.

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1. Background: We share the same race, the same religion, the same culture, the same country. Everything that I can say or do relates with a little slice of history which you can relate to. You know me well partly because we have similar roots, and although you may wonder if there are other similarities you can build with people out there, I am always the one who will know you and where you come from.

2. The Future: We are aligned. There is a path heading forward and you know as well as I do that we are walking along it together. No matter if I can show you a map of the way; no matter if we take a couple of twists and turns round the scenic route. What matters is that I've aligned myself with your goals, and yours with mine. Perhaps I've never spelt them out clearly - that is where I need to address myself to you.

3. Our Present: Apart and away from home - we both are. Little to keep us rooted at home when neither of us is there to anchor the relationship. We've both left our friends and family behind to pursue our dreams - yours differ from mine but at least we're clear why we needed to do that. Don't fret: being apart is never being far away from each other. I'm as ever present in your life as you are in mine.

4. Saying nothing at all: We share this trait. We don't say much - we conserve words. There's more that is conveyed in a simple gesture, or touch. You can even tell from the way that I keep silent in an instant message window and read me correctly (eerie, but that's what you've become to me). More than ever, I need to convey what I feel for you - and you know words fail me (as they do fail you too) when this becomes necessary.

5. We are jealous people and we guard what we own. Possession is absolute and sharing is out of the question when it comes to the most precious. It's not a good trait, but that's what we're like with each other.

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This post is done for you, my dear. We may have our differences, but it is our similarities that hold me to you - I hope it does so for you as well.

Shouldering the Blame

One reason why I like to wear short sleeved shirts with collars as opposed to t-shirts (round necks, Vs) is that it covers up the left side of my neck where it meets the shoulder.

On that particular spot, I have a mole, slight and roundish. It's quite inconspicuous, though clearly visible if you look closely. Nope, no hair sprouting from it (that would be gross) but it does tend to stick out whenever I scratch my neck there.

My mum used to look at the mole when I was younger and said that I will grow up to bear the weight of the world on my shoulders. She said it in Chinese, and I think that whatever it meant, it held deep resonance for how some events have turned out for me. The mole was an omen that I will shoulder responsibility beyond that which I can bear. It meant that I was to be weighed down, and never free.

Perhaps what she said stayed stuck in my head: I do feel as though I have the weight of the world upon my shoulders. Sometimes, I feel weary, like there are too many things that cause me worry. No matter how far I fly away from it all, my responsibility has a way of worming its way to me.

My shoulder aches from the weight I have to bear. My shoulders ache from the hurts I cause myself - I feel that I am just too nice a guy to let go and let be. I feel that perhaps, somehow, someway, someone will recognise the pain felt, or stinging pain of a careless word spoken.

Every word is loaded, and sensitivities get trampled upon. Perhaps letting go sounds easy to do, but what of it? One doesn't escape his destiny - a mark of one's indenture etched on the skin.

What's a tag?

I've been tagged by Ajaxus who has enigmatically noticed that I have started on a list of sorts and ended at 4 items (I intended for it to be 5, but came short). That smart guy decided that he should curse me with this silly tagging game, and here: my 'FOURs'.

BTW I don't bother being politically correct or even polite, so if you're a close friend, I would say it's better not to be reading this.


4 Guilty Pleasures
1. Watching anime (it's about the impossible bodies and huge eyes...)

2. Eating French Fries (and getting fat)

3. Surfing the net and reading gossip on blogs

4. Wanking?


4 Things You Never Want to Forget
See my previous post


4 Things I Wish to Forget
1. There are cruel women in this world, and I'll never forget the naive me, years ago, happily meeting the so called intended other on a date. Having been rejected many times over, and having lived through hurts many times over, I never learnt the lesson of letting go. So what does a cruel woman make one let go? By doing the most merciful thing she could have done to the naive me, saying the things which hurt the most. An 'Admission'. Looking back now, I don't suppose premarital sex was that big an issue; it certainly isn't for me now. But what hurt most was that this woman knew me well - she knew which buttons to push, and sadly, it meant for me the death of a soulmate. (Ed note: perhaps I should expand on this one abit more - what I've said here doesn't quite capture everything; the outpouring is therapy... of sorts)

2. Shitting in my pants as a kid in primary school. I'm NOT even going to talk about it.

3. The knowledge that my parents came close to having a divorce, and the reasons why.

4. Breaking up


Really Exotic Food I've Tried
I'm not that adventurous with my food... the one thing I can remember eating that probably few people have tried is kangaroo meat (even this sounds tame...)


4 Crushes
Woe be it that I reveal my crushes...

1. When I was 16, a certain sweet girl in school who shared my surname and little else.

2. When I was 18, a certain sweet girl who played chess with me, and purposely lost so that I felt good.

3. When I was 21, a certain sweet girl who taught me that love is fleeting and short, while memories never die.

4. When I was 24, a certain sweet girl showed me what it was to see a girl cry (and thus my older brother instincts were born)


Strangest Dream
I don't remember dreams - it is sad but my dreams are but hazy memories in the morning. At best, I recall little bites here and there, but I've never been able to recreate them again. Pity.


4 Favourite Superheroes

1. Though Neil Gaiman will strongly disagree with the categorisation, the one that tops the list is the Sandman.

2. Batman - I like tortured superheroes who aren't really that super (face it, he doesn't have mutant powers, just really nifty toys)

3. Can't think of any others... can I pick villians instead?


4 People on my Hate List
I don't hate people - I may dislike people or have a severe disincline to share the same space as some other people, but I never hate people.

I hate myself sometimes though, but I've gone past the stage where I think of myself as another person.


Close Brushes with Danger
Its when I was driving and it happened 2 days ago at a traffic light near INSEAD in Fontainebleau. No further details - I had the right of way btw.


Modes of Suicide
Death from an overdose of life

There Ajaxus, i'm all done. No curses on anyone this time.

Ask me again in the morning

So I said.

The question? "What did you say you regretted?"

I shouldn't be telling you perhaps, so my answer in the morning is going to be something else. It doesn't make sense for you to know, and it doesn't help me any to say it. And since you aren't reading this shite anyhow, it doesn't make any difference to say so now.

I regretted laying myself bare to you, like an apple without its skin, protectionless against the biting invasiveness of oxidization (I'm lyrical about primary school biological tidbits, can't help it).

I regretted the long talks, the sit-downs and the conversations. What good any of it did for me I do not know. What good is anything at all which we shared? Like dust in the wind - uttered and forgotten. I don't forget - retention is my biggest problem - and that means you'll be a part of my life forever (I know I'll never take up the same brain space though).

I regretted hearing what I had to hear from you, not that it was painful to the ears, but that it made me see the multifaceted you. I'd much rather prefer my singular version of you, that simple notion of you. The you I'd rather keep in my mind takes little space: I'd probably describe you in 3 sentences. Now, I've a plethora of descriptions and plenty of images, and the multifacted you sits taking up precious space. I hate it because I know what I know of you is very close to the real you. I regret it because it complicates everything and I hate complications such as this because I won't forget.

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Some of what I never forgot:

1. A heartbreak in 2003. Pivotal moment perhaps, and it meant that life changed. Some people will tell you there are certain points in life where you come to a fork in the road and went down one path or the other, thinking that things might have been different down the other way. This was one of those moments where I realised that the 5 years prior to that had been something akin to a series of choices down the wrong side of the fork. This was one of those moments where I would have continued down the wrong side if not for that nail-in-the-coffin heartbreak. A call to say: no more forks, you've reached the dead end.

And what happens at the dead end? Bang your head on the wall and let the physical pain obliterate the senseless wrenching of your heart. Gawd that hurt...

2. A conversation in 2005. Whys. Why nots. Politics. Goals. Religion. Life. Past. Present. Future. Kids. Marriage. Girlfriend. Career. Studies. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Food. Boss. Friend? The importance of being earnest. Network, network, network. In one ear. Out another. Black box. Feelings. Prayer. Farewell.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Never a question I asked right. Never an answer I got in return.

3. Crying in 2000. I thought that there was a death, a passing. I thought I don't have a chance to say goodbye, not that I've ever said anything meaningful before to you. I thought that you will never get sick the way you did - I never thought that, instead of dying, that you will die slowly instead, each day at a time. I thought that all you wanted to was to live more, but you wasted instead, little by little, letting life slip away.

I know that the worst thing was losing your dignity, your once proud bearing and unflagging criticism of your children. I know this well for I live with one of them, he who bears your legacy so proudly that if and when you do leave, you leave us with a part of yourself more than ever. Unsuspectingly, he will be like you, and you will be here.

4. A kiss in 2004. Tentative. Reserved and almost shy. Yet, somehow, there was a hint of a dare. A challenge - kiss me, you know you want to. Approached slowly, like it was the hardest thing to do in the world. When it changes everything in a relationship, you want to be safe rather than sorry. Perhaps what marked the event was the place. Perhaps what marked the place was the time. And unlike life and its set of choices, there was nothing loaded about this one.

So I plunged right in.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word?

Well, that is according to some, but I don't think so.

Last Saturday, while hanging out with the guys, I went into one rather meaningful discussion with Stripey. We sometimes chat about more cerebral stuff whenever Stripey gets in the mood (I think he's into grown-up and marriage mode - something the rest of us juveniles should seriously give some thought too).

We talked about that important precursor to marriage - the proposal. I think the proposal as we know it nowadays is a modern construct. That means to say that, like the concept of dating, it really is a recent phenomenon (Yes, dating is modern too!). In the past, the proposal took the form of a suitor seeking the permission of the parents of his intended partner to marry (cultural and periodic differences aside, I think this is mostly true). The suitor - oh if you insist - the groom, does not ask the bride directly.

Nowadays, this would be somewhat unromantic. The proposal has morphed to become something more elaborate, something worth remembering... a kind of story that you tell your friends and your children about. In other words, it has to be romantic.

Therein lies the problem with the proposal - the romantic aspect of it. Because the proposal is a romantic occasion (or meant to be so, given today's expectations), it needs to be 'perfect'. The proposal event (I was about to call it 'ceremony') becomes something of a Kodak moment - it cannot be ruined by a rejection.

But you ask - isn't a proposal just something of a question? Surely the proposee reserves the right of refusal. Certainly so - there is no law or doctrine that dictates that a proposal must be accepted. However, there is a certain expectation that she (he?) accepts the proposal - a kind of emotional blackmail takes place whenever one proposes. It is almost as if a 'No' is going to ruin all the effort, all the romance, embarass the suitor in front of the audience he chose to witness the spectacle.

The more spectacular the proposal, the greater the compulsion to say 'Yes I do'. Ironic what a little romance can do to screw you up.

Oh yes, to get more to the point of what I'm leading up to, the proposal is somewhat similar to this other regular occasion. While the proposal has changed from a simple affair to the elaborate set-up it now is, the apology has been much reduced in pomp.

There are cultures where the apology is a truly elaborate affair for the sorry one: Saharan Bedouins require the apologiser to sit in camel dung and recite the Koran; South American pygmies demand that apologies be written out in the apologiser's blood; and when seeking forgiveness in medieval Turkey, one is required to postrate himself before Allah and tremble in reverential awe.

Yup, I made all that up. :) The thing I'm trying to get at is that the apology these days are really too simple: "I am sorry". 'Sorry' is too easy to say - you don't have to mean it, you don't have to be sincere. The Japanese say 'Sorry' like it is a punctuation. 'Sorry' has become a polite word, uttered to make utterances sound polite and sincere.

There's really nothing wrong with saying 'Sorry' and meaning it - I'm always appreciative when one is sincerely sorrowful (incidentally, the words 'sorry' and 'sorrow' have the same root). However, the bone I have with this issue is that the culture in which we all live in now assume that uttering 'Sorry' puts a finality to the issue. It is as if uttering 'sorry' means that all is forgiven, and all should be truly well and forgotten.

That is not so. Depending on the severity of the issue, whether one can forgive or not is hard to say. Despite time, I've not been able to forgive a particular person for a painful past hurt. My feel is that most of us are internally like this too - we may say our bygones and move on, but the memory of the hurt sticks, and it occasionally digs into one's consciousness and causes new pain.

And for the apologist? Culture dictates that the only obligation he has to the wronged person is the common courtesy of saying 'Sorry'. Sure, he may do more to atone for his perceived sin, but the very fact that it was commited in the first instance is testament to the fact that he has no perception of the pain or hurt he can cause. Where an apology isn't accepted, it is now common to label the wronged party as being unkind, being unforgiving. We are conditioned to see that person as reveling in the fact of himself being wronged.

I know my statements are not entirely fair (I apologise, but I don't care if you do accept that apology). There are people who sincerely mean to apologise, and there are those who find it easy to forgive. Life is so much easier to live if we have short memories - there's little history to dwell upon and wallow in.

Perhaps, as apologisers, we should all understand what we are apologising for. As forgivers, we should seek to forget as much as possible. The word 'Sorry' has no meaning at all - don't say it. Do it.

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On that note, my dear, I am sorry for what I have done. However, I hope you are sorry too.