Positivity and the Benefits of Thinking in Terms of It

"So... do you think I should go on doing it?"

It was a really simple question that was posed.

And after some time, I felt I had a really simple answer to give back.

Now, ignore for a moment what the question pertained to. Yes certainly I could go into whole background of it, but that won't give any context at all to what I'm talking about (which is about positivity - my theory of it I suppose). The seeker wanted my view on whether I think she should go on in her current state, with her attendant hang-ups about the state of affairs, as well as the benefits of what she was getting out of it.

My view was simple: If whatever you're doing gives you a sense of positivity, then continue doing it.

So what's a sense of positivity?

It really depends on what you're getting out of it. If you're getting money out of what you're doing, and you're profiting (even with some investment put in), then your positivity comes out of the profit that you're making.

If you're emotionally satisfied by the relationship you're in, and your emotional reward from being with a partner outweighs the drain of living together with him or her, then your positivity comes from knowing that you're getting more out of it than what you're putting in.

My own positivity story? Well, I switched jobs and industries some one and a half years back for less pay and more fun. I wanted more fun. I didn't mind less pay. And I felt a great relief that more fun made a more positive contribution towards my well-being than more money could have done.

So there: it's really simple. Forget all those self-help stories and books out there. Just ask yourself, when you're in doubt about any current state of being (or perhaps considering a change in status quo), whether you're in a state of positivity.

And if not, then find something else that will bring you there. Or something else that will deliver higher positive benefits for you (i.e. a higher state of positivity)

Really.

The easiest philosophy you'll ever live by.

Mapless in Melbourne (aka Fatigue and a Shortage of Everything)

This is one of those 'ME' posts - long, ranty, and not very much useful in the bigger scheme of things. It does feel good to write these once in a while though.

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I am tired:

- of being me.

- of being me being a crutch.

- of being me being a crutch once too often.

- of being me being a crutch once too often, and for other people.

- of being me being a crutch once too often, and for other people, without anything in return.

- of being me being a crutch once too often, and for other people, without anything in return. What's more, it isn't like I am expecting some reward (though I do habour some expectations).

Being supportive, or otherwise being a friend, is sometimes a tiring exercise. Sometimes, I just want to quit it. If I could just easily tender my resignation as a friend sometimes, it'll be so much better.

A leave of absence will probably not hurt either. In some way, being 6000 miles (approximately) away from home does help.

I don't get too bothered by folks back home when I am here.

I don't get knackered at the end of a day chasing deals that never materialise.

I don't worry about people around me.

I get time away from all that has saddened me and worn me down. I am still sad about it - I just can't do damage to myself from being physically where it hurts (thinking about it still hurts... but it's containable here)

*** By the way, don't believe that bull shit about how getting away will help you forget.

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But I don't get to be myself though. Over here, my social circle is diminished, and there is increased interaction with a very small number of people. Being with colleagues for 12 hours a day, constantly, and without respite, is probably none too healthy (even though most consulting engagements are such, I've always been the local and never realised the almost 24/7 interaction required with other colleagues).

Consider this: I live in the same hotel as them; see them the first thing in the morning before heading out; take turns driving the rental car and bitching about traffic; work in a small meeting room overrun with cables, laptops and assorted fat-inducing munchies; hunt for new vegeterian options (I work with a vegeterian Indian, a somewhat renounced vegeterian Indian, and a none-too-picky Thai) during lunch; brainstorm over coffee about our collective problems; fire off emails and make cruel jokes about our counterparts from Hong Kong (they and their 'sing-song' English); check out eatability.com for new dinner options (Thai today, Italian tomorrow) - the first suggested restaurant wins (so long as there is vegeterian); and then retire to the hotel room, with the privacy it offers me to watch my latest downloaded shows (ack... Heroes is ending!).

I see my colleagues too much. I even talk like them now (affected Indian accent with bobble head thrown in for good measure; kawaii Thai intonations - quite charming for a gal, very gay-ish if you're a guy though).

My rant is: I need to be home... and they aren't letting me be.

Part of the reason is cost: it costs less to house me in the hotel over the weekend than fly me back and forth. The hotel is none too bad: it has broadband, the room is big and spacious, and I get a queen sized bed all to myself (anyone wanna come share it?). The flyback is not bad either: the company books us on SIA (Side note: Since I fly economy class, I always check into seats near the galley, somewhere around row 53 or so, and on the window aisle seat - go find out why).

Another reason is my bad timing: I chose to stay over one weekend, just for the heck of it (and me and another colleague did the Great Ocean Road! 2nd time round for me but she was totally thrilled to see the cliffs and winding roads). That was last weekend, and the intention was to fly home this weekend. Which proved impractical because we were going to fly home ANYWAY next Wednesday (or Thursday, or possibly Friday because we are such poor planners).

It sucks that I can't go home this weekend because: 1) I already miss home and people I know - I also miss TCC coffee; 2) I am going to miss a friend's wedding, and furthermore, that is my one chance to play being a 'Brother'. This sucks ass - I've always wanted to be the guy helping the groom tackle the ruckus of 'gate-crashing' while fighting off demanding bridesmaids. It always sounded like so much fun.

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In other news...

1) Melbourne May 2007 is probably not the best of times for this sunshine state. The water shortage is made further acute by the realisation that the government has miscalculated its water reserves by 40%. 40-freaking-percent! This means further water restrictions are likely, with Stage 4 being a distinct possbility now. Yikes... people are already not washing cars due to current restriction levels. What's next for this drought stricken land? What is a stupid tourist like myself worrying about a drought in this country? Perhaps I just like the collective environmental conscience that seems to permeate policies within this country, and therefore hate to see it suffer such (un)natural problems.

2) When driving in Melbourne, you cannot do without their version of the Street Directory. The Melway is one really comprehensive road directory - it never fails to list every major or minor road. The one thing that impresses me about it is that it accurately reflects how 'big' a road really is (which is one gripe I had about Singapore's version of it - all roads look the same size and one-laners are no different from expressways). Much as the Melway helped within understanding and planning a route, Melbourne itself makes it disappointingly hard to get your bearings: street signs are not the most conspicuous objects and the necessity of doing hook turns at junctions featuring tram lines still baffle me sometimes.

3) The Great Ocean Road is one big scenic drive - doing it the 2nd time round is decidedly more fun, since I am now a more seasoned driver and can navigate the curves better (there are other curves I navigate better these days too but... sighs... no chance there). This time, I was driving in a generally west-bound direction and during the mid-morning to afternoon period. The views were amazing - sheer towering cliffs, waves crashing on rocky shores, inlets carved out by years of pounding surf. Given the chance, I would love to do it all over again - and bring a camera... and lose the non-too-adventurous colleague.

4) Finally, the last news item of the day: If you know anyone who can take me out to somewhere chic in Melbourne and have a swell time, sign me up with them. I hang out with people who are currently married / engaged or otherwise seriously dating someone while here. This means there are no singletons like myself who would love to hang out over some drinks and meet other people, and this means that this means post 9pm, I'm mostly back in my hotel room watching downloads or checking out Australian TV shows like Big Brother, 1 vs 100 etc. In the short term, it is kind of nice having a hotel room to thrash like a rock star. In the longer term (which is the next one month or so) this place will start to seriously bore me. HELP!

There.

Oh btw, since I have a surfeit of photos which I have yet to blog about, I will probably put a couple of posts to showcase them a bit - bear with me as some of them date back to last year.



Mapless in Melbourne, May 2007

Relationship X Expectation = Happiness

The ultimate pursuit is that of happiness.

Don't let the religious change your mind about that: I do agree that there is none nobler a purpose than the pursuit of God and the expansion of his flock. But good missionaries are generally also happy missionaries, and ultimately, they pursue God's plan because they are happy to do so. Therefore, and again I say it, the ultimate pursuit is that of happiness. (Caveat: ultimate human pursuit of a non-spiritual nature)

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Of all the things that can make a person unhappy, I think the one that occurs the most often is that feeling of 'Being Left Out'. It's what I call the Sour Grapes Syndrome (SGS), though it doesn't always have to refer to contempt towards things we cannot get. And to explain it, I need to go into the concept of sociability and groups.

We human beings are sociable creatures and we seek other like minded individuals to form groups - it is a way for us to satisfy one of the following needs / urges: the need to validate one's existence on this planet; the urge to build bonds with another, find a soulmate, seek a friend or partner; the need to find others like ourselves; the urge to do things together with others of the same persuasion; and so on.

When we form groups (typically consisting of two or more people) bonds are built between individuals. In a 2 person group, there is only one bond; with 3 people there are 3 bonds; with 4 people there are 6 bonds; and the permutations increase exponentially the more people there are in a group.

We, therefore, find ourselves in a complex tangle of relationships when group sizes balloon. Some bonds will be stronger than others, and therefore, some of us will feel closer to one person over another.

So now, imagine that you belong in a group of 20 or so people. There are some 4 or 5 people who are pretty tight and you think that you are in that small circle of 4-5 people. You expect that, whenever these 4-5 people plan any activities, you will be invited along (because you feel... 'tight' with them). Unfortunately, your expectations do not quite meet up to their expectations of you: one or two of them don't feel that 'tight' with you.

Suppose then that those one or two (let's call them Amy and Amanda) decide to organise a small get-together over dinner. Amy calls Amanda, and they decide to invite the others within their perceived tight group. Both Amy and Amanda feel that you aren't quite as 'tight' with them and thereby omit you from their invitations (which they send via SMS, email, whatever). And woe betide calamitous Jane (Ed note: shites, where did that phrase come from?) YOU happen to learn of the non-invite.

What do you feel? You feel left out. Jealous. You feel like all you've ever put into those bonds you've built were meaningless. You feel upset that Amy and Amanda never felt 'tight' enough with you.

Sour Grapes Syndrome. Half of those times when we feel unhappy, I think we can attribute it to that feeling of being left out, the feeling that we were meant for good things but were deprived of them because someone else felt we were not worthy.

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I am sure you've liked someone before.

Let's suppose you are a guy.

And you like this girl called Amelie.

You get close to Amelie, as others who are attracted attempt the same thing too.

Amelie isn't seeing anyone in particular, and you fancy your chances as being better than most.

One day, Amelie suggests that you both catch a particular movie that you both are interested in.

You agree. You are on Cloud #9 because the girl of your dreams has asked you out on a date. You're ecstatic and looking forward to the opportunity to clutch her hand / lend her your jacket to keep her warm / offer your shoulder to cry on during the weepy scenes / have your arm gripped tightly as she scream her lungs out when terror strikes.

So you show up at the appointed time, at the appointed place. Happy and looking forward to quality time with your object of affection.

Except that it isn't just with her. It is with her and her whole posse of other hanger-ons / best buds / bitchy girlfriends / brother / sister / dog.

Suffice to say, it is not a date. It is more akin to an outing.

You aren't happy. Why?

Because you expected a date with the girl you like. Not a freaking group outing with her other best friend or sister or third cousin. It is worser still when it is a competitor or another more interesting guy.

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Expectations we built have a direct effect on our own happiness. When we get what we expect to get, when things go the way we want them to, we tend to be happier individuals.

Relationships too have a way of making us happy or unhappy. Relationships are also a function of the groups we form for ourselves - and what we feel about the relationships in our lives (the expectations) tend to colour how happy we are about those relationships.

Be realistic in how you feel about the people in your life. I think happiness comes from knowing that nobody out there is responsible for making you happy - only you yourself are capable of that.

You are capable of that because only YOU are able to manage your own expectations.

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.

Stringing It All Together - Analogising it

If someone emailed you a notion of hers, and you find it thoughtful, maybe even somewhat meaningful. And after a moment (oh, perhaps something like a month later), you think that it might be something that you want to blog about. Maybe it is an idea, but you want to expand on it, give your own version of it. It's like, taking a song and remixing it - maybe call it the greyscalefuzz blogrot remix (except that it's with a piece of writing). It is essentially your own thing, but with a premise taken from someone else. You know, borrowing, re-doing it... perhaps even giving credit for where it came from.

So, if you did all that, does it count as plagiarism?

I don't know, but if this post gets taken offline for some reason, you know why.

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A friend told me in an email (not so long ago) that a relationship is like a piece of thread. When you embark on a new relationship, it is akin to cutting a length of the thread with a pair of scissors. As the relationship progresses along, through all its ups and downs, there might come a point where it breaks into two - perhaps it is an event that prompts a break up, or maybe something like an extended period of being apart. When a thread breaks, it is possible to mend it back together again - perhaps using glue, or maybe some sticky tape.

However, no matter how much the thread gets put together again, it is undeniable that it was separated before - everyone will notice that it has been mended. It's like that patch that one sews onto clothes: the patch covers up a tear or hole, but it is undeniable to one and all that the clothes are ruined and that patch only served to accentuate that. The thread is thus noticeably weaker - everyone around can tell. Why not then cut a new length of thread and start again? Perhaps this new length won't break so easily.

I liked my friend's analogy, but I decided that, like countless analogies I've heard in my life, it bears expanding upon. Think of it as an exercise in helping people make sense of the world: analogies help us manage as if the world was a simpler place to live in. Analogies were the first real and crude (and perhaps even oral) instances of models of the world. Models were built to help people simplify and generalise the world they live in - using analogy is just a way of doing that.

As for the thread analogy, one should think about what the thread is made out of first. Is it nylon thread? Or perhaps just ordinary button sewing string? Or is it layered and thick like a rope? A thick thread made out of a tough material is surely harder to break, or cut, than the ordinary string. It might even bear more weight and can take more strain if anyone tries to pull it apart.

Likewise with a relationship: if the relationship was built on more solid ground, then it is perhaps more able to stand most stress and strain put onto it. A relationship built on common goals, principles, faith, and background has more 'fibre' than one based on lust, money, companionship and availability. When it is important attributes (principles, faith etc) that connect two people, it is less likely that one can find these attributes in other people (probably because it takes too much out of one to dig out such gems).

On another point in the thread analogy, the bit about mending a thread seemed kind of odd. People don't usually mend thread - they just throw it away and use a new one. It should be kind of hard sticking two separate pieces of thread and expecting it will function like a new one, right? Perhaps, instead of a relationship being like a piece of thread, I think everyone is like a thread of their own. When one thread finds another thread, they may want to get together and form a bend knot (something like... tying the knot, but not in the marriage sense). Note: Bend knots are knots formed when two pieces of rope are tied together at the end.

It is the kind of knot tied that determines the strength of the relationship. Oh, and whether the two threads were compatible in the first place (try knotting together sewing thread and nylon). It is not impossible for two incompatible pieces of thread to be knotted together. It depends on what kind of knot is being used to bring the two together. A well-tied knot ensures that the two separate threads stay together under pressure - they don't come apart easily.

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Being home now, I sometimes tune into NewsRadio FM93.8 while driving (this being in Singapore). This is largely because it supposedly has more informational content (it does make for less mind numbing fare than the typical morning show tripe). One of the items I do enjoy are the interviews they put on the air, and there was one which I heard three times already (well, they can't do THAT many interviews, so some of them get substantially more airtime).

This interview was with a Singaporean ex-priest with an education in public policy and an MBA to boot. He is now running some sort of leadership coaching program for Singaporean undergraduates. Unfortunately for me, I didn't manage to catch his name (despite 3 hearings of the show), otherwise I would have googled him.

The interviewee witnessed an interesting coaching session using a familiar analogical exercise: a jar is provided to the participants along with the following items: some fist-sized rocks, pebbles, sand and stones of varying sizes. The objective was to fill the jar with as much of the rocks, pebbles and sand as is possible to fit within the jar. As is the case, if one had filled the jar with the sand first, it would have been impossible to put in any of the rocks or pebbles since the sand would have packed the jar tight.

When asked what the exercise had meant, the textbook answer was that the items represented priorities in life, and the rocks and pebbles, being the biggest, were the biggest priorities in life. If they were sorted out first (i.e. placed in the jar) then any space leftover may be filled with the sand (the small things in life). If the small things were to be done first, then there would have been no space for the big items, since the sand would have filled the jar without leaving any room for other stones.

The interviewee then mentioned one particular response he heard which struck as being somewhat very incisive. One participant's view was that the rocks and pebbles, the big things, were one's dreams, while the sand was but the itty-bitty stuff of life. If one were to fill his life living out the itty-bitty stuff, fussing over the mundane and unimaginative, then there would have been no space for the dreams. The dreams, according to this participant at least, are the most important things to address in one's life.

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I am wondering, and am still wondering to no end, whether or not I am achieving my dreams: I still don't know what they are, and I still don't know whether the path I am walking down leads unto it. There is no analogy or model that can help direct my life: there is only analogy or model to help me understand how best to live it.

The Break Up - My Side

This is going to sound like one of those blog entries where the blogger goes out of his/her way to do something outrageous with his/her life. All in the name of having something to blog about that is not so mundane and can actually pull in the eyeballs.

But... that wasn't why I did this.

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Ever wondered what it's like to watch this movie with your recent ex?

The Break-Up

For me, it was somewhat surreal. It's like all the bad behaviour you ever displayed in a relationship is magnified and played back to you. For a guy like me, I get to see how insensitive I could have been, even if my proxy was Vince Vaughn. I could have cared a little more, showed some appreciation, yet at times, I just want to do my thing and forget the (perceived by me to be) superficial stuff, the unsubstantial feely things that the woman only hinted at and 'fuzzed' about.

For the ex, perhaps it was a little of a revelation - she came out of the theatre with questions. She came out requiring some answers and perhaps sought to see things from a different perspective (at least, that was what I hoped I saw...) In so doing, she made the inner me smile a little contented smile. It was what I was hoping for - closure. :)

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Oh go watch this movie if you like - describing it as a romantic comedy is, in my opinion at least, incorrect.

Before I launch into why, I need to first recall an International Political Analysis (IPA) class that I had back in May, where the professor described Singapore's government as that of a 'Benevolent Dictatorship'. That, of course, drew an objection from a particular Singaporean (take a guess as to who). Said professor then asked to which part the objection was regarding, that Singapore is 'benevolent', or that it is a 'dictatorship'? His implication being that by themselves, the individual words do not describe what the phrase as a whole encompass, and that was what uniquely identified Singapore (a compliment, in less oblique terms).

And this is where my issue regarding 'The Break-Up' resides. The Break-Up is NOT romantic. It is a break-up and even most die hard romantics will be pressed hard to see anything mushy in the proceedings. The break-up is painful for both parties, and at that juncture, it isn't about the romance anymore, but about the practicality (or lack of) in living with another human being. Brooke (Jennifer Aniston) broke up because Gary's (Vince Vaughn) insenstivity went overboard (when Gary's maths failed him in a lemon test and he couldn't care less). What is so romantic about that?

The Break-Up is NOT a comedy - it is extremely painful to see two people go out of their way to hurt each other, and to induce ill-calculated reactions from the significant other. It doesn't make one laugh much (well, it has its moments, but the whole 'comedic' theme of a couple slugging out for a condo gets shafted by the emoting of the leads). Comedies have a nice neat way of wrapping things up, with the typical happy endings and with messy situations tidily resolved. The Break-Up stayed that way: they broke up.

So does it qualify as a romantic comedy? Not strictly. Most rom-coms end the other way - with boy meeting girl and hooking up. Meet, swoon, kiss, smiles, roll credits. The Break-Up started when things get messy: when 12 lemons became 3 and the lady of the house didn't get her talking point of a table centrepiece. Romantic comedies are like Sleepless in Seattle, where despite the odds, the leads end up together. The Break-Up is where, despite all odds (ok, when a girl walks around your apartment naked, it is NOT because she wants you to wank off in the bathroom later), the leads split up.

So what kind of a movie is it?

Definition and categorisation notwithstanding, it is a movie to watch for those times when you wonder why a relationship ever broke up. For a partner to watch it with, there is none better to recommend than with a recent ex: I think that it is a good way to invite a closer examination into the workings of a concluded relationship. No matter the circumstances of your break-up, seeing a break-up rom-com is a good way to seek closure.

Having closure, after all, is the most healthy way that people should part: leaving with a better understanding of themselves, the lessons learnt, and why things can be done better.

The Word

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it." John 1:1-5

One of the most abstract ideas that came from the bible was concerning the Word. The Word from the above passage obviously refers to Jesus. But just as simply, I think the passage is trying to hint at the power of the spoken word - Jesus, being God's son, came to the World to spread His Word, and it was with such a notion that the writer of the Gospel of John regarded Jesus.

(Oh, on a side note, theologians will actually use this phrase to expound on a whole load of information, such as that this phrase explicitly mentions Jesus as God, and not as a being created by God. As such, he isn't man, but God in the flesh.)

Anyhow, I just wanted to start with something that brings me to my real topic: words are powerful things, whether they be written or spoken. Words have the power to change or even to stymie change, and the first instance of such a thing happening (and again I quote from the bible) was when God created the world: Let there be light, and there was light. Amazing how something spoken (albeit by a omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent being like God) can have the power to create and to bring forth something new.

But that's just the bible... or is it? How is it that we, as mere human beings, have allowed words to affect how we act or how we feel? How is it that we have afforded mere words that much power?

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Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. I disagree - I think words can hurt. I know - I've experienced it so personally before. When you love someone and he/she doesn't love you back, gentle words to decline may soothe the pain. But when someone prefers a quick and dirty way out of a sticky situation, the nastier words the better.

Words can hurt, but I hear it is only because we let them. Can one really be that insensitive to another's utterance or opinion? The answer as I have learnt to say it: It depends.

But I shall not elaborate. :)

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My favourite comic book author (so far) is Alan Moore, the original creator of works such as V for Vendetta, A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and Watchmen. Look out for the movies, but don't bother looking for any credits to Mr Moore though - only a genius dissociates from the bastardization of his own work.

In any case, one of his less well known comics was Top Ten. A not so major character (but important to the plot) from the story was called Harry Lovelace, the hostage negotiator otherwise known as 'The Word'. The Word's power (it is a comic book and he is a super hero amidst a book filled with them) comes from his ability to compel people who hear him speak obey him. He is very, in a word, persuasive.

See, all he has to say is 'Put your hands up!' and you're compelled to do just that, without any rhyme or reason to. I think it is an especially useful ability to have: need cash? Just compel people on the street to hand the money in their wallets to you. Want sex? Just ask for it.

But the Word is really a metaphor more than a real character - the Word is like that character you have to obey in real life. The boss, your sergeant, the missus. Anyone with the power to say something to make you do an action, or to feel an emotion. Like an order issued for you to quickly get an assignment done. Or a guilt trip to emotionally blackmail you for not buying her flowers for her birthday.

(Sidenote: I think that being the Word in the comic book isn't all it is cut out to be though. Suppose you can't turn that ability off, and whatever you say is going to be taken literally. You can't really joke around much, like when someone tells some really kick-ass joke, and you're laughing your hardest, and you happen to utter "Ah you're killing me". Imagine what the consequences would be.)

So, in a way, having the power of the Word - whether it means that you're the one with the power to order someone, or to create specific emotions in someone else - you are responsible for the words you speak, so speak them with care.

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In a recent episode of the anime xxxHoLiC, a character, one of a pair of twins, has an inferiority complex. She lets whatever she hears about herself influence her person, and much of what she had heard were negative comments from her twin sister. In and of itself, the words that she had heard were not meant to limit her abilities - the fact is that she herself acts as an amplifier for the words spoken, and they become a limiting mechanism.

Simply put, if you keep hearing someone say that you're clumsy, and you believe it to be true, then you will be clumsy.

Perhaps it comes down to 2 factors... no 3 factors: the issuer, the receiver and the amplifier. The issuer speaks, the receiver listens, but it's the amplifier that makes either something sound trivial, or makes it the most compelling thought-provoking message ever heard. (And here I start getting reminded of my uni days as an electrical engineering undergrad - hard to imagine now, but those amplifiers we were all made to build have such enormous philosophical relevance, and yet, we were so caught up in the capacitors, resistors and general circuitry of it all that we fail to see the amplifier as nothing more than a goddamn hindrance to graduation)

The amplifier comes in many forms but I believe the one most important is that amplifier inside of oneself. Some people I know manage to tune that amplifier to only hear what they want to - like a low-pass filter of sorts, they filter off all the high frequencies and hear the good parts (the bass). Some others are unable to hear the good parts, and tune in only to negative comments, on which they remind themselves of their fragility.

I can't offer a way to tune that amplifier to hear the whole message though, and it is only human to tune in or tune out as we see fit. Perhaps it is important to realise that we inherently tune the messages we hear, and that should be sufficient to know. I have always heard that it is important to analyse what you hear in the context of what the issuer is saying - perhaps that is where I shall start now.

I shall start listening - without tuning.

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

Dispirited Away

After 12 days on the road, I've finally found some time to blog, and with the WiFi to allow it as well. There were many memories of the places I've been and the things I've seen, but I don't have the heart to yak about them now. I guess the best thing I can do to describe them is to post them up on my flickr set - go check it out if you're interested (a picture speaks a thousand words - all that stuff I've uploaded will speak volumes if that rule applies).

The spirits have left me. Here now, in the countryside of Hampshire, England, I've become somewhat melancholic and down - little excited by what I'm seeing and, though it has been an experience, I'm starting to get discouraged that what I have been looking forward to for the past 3 months might turn out to be a something I'd rather not face.

There are many times in this short life I've lead where I thought I was doing all the right things, and no one says anything that is contrary to that. Work was one: there was a path which I took and I assumed it was right. Of course, those assumptions were checked with people I know, and often, they might have been assuring, they might have been patronising, but they were never correcting. People are afraid of correcting you, of giving you the bitter pill. Perhaps in some cultures, it is more forthcoming, but in the work culture of mine then, it was given in the wrong dosage, and at the last possible moment.

The mistakes I've made and the lessons I have learnt ought to have carried over into the relationships I make with people. I believed that I am now listening better. But I am still not doing some things right - I am listening, but inaction still grips me.

It is disappointing to learn that there are few second chances, and far fewer third chances in life. It is disappointing to also learn that when one gives, and gives, and gives, there is always something else that fail the expectations that the receiver has of one.

Perhaps it is something inherent and cannot be changed. I don't think that people cannot change, for love, for life, for oneself, for God. I just think that change is difficult - I won't change unless I am made to and I want to. If I don't change, I will die for the lack of it.

Maybe there's nothing I can say further, or nothing I can do to change things now - my inability to change fast enough, quickly enough, has led to the state of affairs now. I don't know - I think I have changed, just in a direction that isn't right. I think that life for the other has changed as well, and new relationships are entered into as the old are thrown away. Better related to, better treated with, and better listened to perhaps.

Am I looking to change things once again?



Do I still hope?

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.

We Call it the B-school Curse... or is it Blessing?

Boon or bane, you decide. Long rambling post ahead btw.

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As I recall from my pre-INSEAD days, B-school appeared to be a glamorous thing to do. It is one-year (this being INSEAD) away from all the cares of the world, and you choose how much you want to put into your course. My much-simplified view of the B-school world went along 3 dimensions: academic, career and social. I pretty much counted on the administration to work on the first 2 aspects; what threw me off about INSEAD was the social bit of it.

INSEAD is one year away from the life you once knew, and from a social point of view, that means that your whole social life is somewhat redefined when you come in (unless of course you're a local). You meet interesting people, go for parties and soak yourself in the social scene. You make new friends, and in the process discover that things might go a little further than "we're just friends".

Things get redefined a lot at B-school, including your relationships. For what I have to say, I only have my INSEAD experiences to speak from but I think it suffices: I want to talk about the relationships we build and tear down while in B-school.

I think what works best for pre-school relationships (btw, I'm referring to an existing relationship one may be in at the point one enters B-school; NOT kindergarten childhood sweethearts), assuming you're intent on keeping it going, is to have the partner immersed in the experience. Have her interact with other partners and socialise with the same people you do. This means that there are no secrets between the two of you: what you see is what you get. It doesn't hurt to be an insider; it can hurt if your partner stays out.

You might think that it's safe if you're already married and leaving your spouse behind. I think that probably only works if you're newly-weds. You're likely to meet so many people here that the 'What-if' questions come to mind often enough to destroy any notion that your relationship is rock solid. In the course of the last 5 months, we've seen a couple of affairs leading to divorce / separation.

Even if you aren't hooking up with someone new, you might just break up an existing relationship. There are many reasons for this but the most common theme seems to be: 'I come to B-school and discovered that I'm not who I thought I was, and I also think now that I don't really know you that well, nor myself that well either, so maybe it is better that we don't see each other anymore'.

So is it all bad news on the relationship front? Not really: B-school is a great place to meet smart, bright people who love to party (INSEAD attracts that breed well). Parties are great opportunites to meet, greet and do the deed. So what's better than doing all that with smart, bright people who are going through the same shit that you are?

My half-baked theory on building relationships is that they are built on that raw material known as common shared experiences. My less well baked theory on destroying relationships is that not having common shared experiences is certain to spell its doom. Somewhere in between these two notions is where most of our relationships probably sit. INSEAD, being such an immersive social experience, means that you do a lot of the 'common shared experience' thing with your fellow classmates.

What all this means is that: 1, you're likely to make a lot of new friends fast in B-school, and if you're single, it'll appear like there are many opportunities to play hook up; 2, your existing relationship is likely to be strained unless your partner comes along for the ride; and 3, don't have expectations that your life and world view is going to be same after all that.

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In other news, I'm 'outed' again but it's pleasant to actually know some INSEADers have actually read this blog. :) Thanks for dropping in!

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.

Little White Lies

A Little White Lie (LWL) is the seed of the big black mistake.

One coats the LWL like the little bit of flourish it is; it's akin to seasoning. No harm done - people put MSG into food so that it tastes better. That's what the LWL does - it makes difficult messages palatable to its consumer. And that is a good thing is it not? Without the LWL, nobody can take a hard message, or a particularly incriminating one.

The LWL looks deceptively like an innocent little thing. Seriously, what can one expect the LWL to become? Does it grow? Does it germinate and grow mouldy? Does it spread like a wild virus, spawning baby LWLs and infect ideas like birdflu? Perhaps the LWL just remains that: something little, small, innocently benign.

But I think that, if anything at all, the LWL is dangerous not because of its inherent size - it can't really do much harm if ever uttered or spoken in its own form. It is dangerous for being a precedent. It is dangerous because it holds potential. It is a seed - with the right soil condition and a little water, that seed can become a solid tree. And though a seed may be easy to miss, when it becomes that tree, it is just waiting for an axe to cut it down.

Learn from your mistake: don't speak of the LWL ever, even in public forum such as this. See, the LWL does not serve any good cause being spoken of aloud. It is spent the moment it is created, but giving it life in a little sphere known as the internet is inviting trouble of all sorts.

I do not feel as if I need to give the LWL further life. Let it rest, let it die. For there shall be no tree, and there shall be no further mistakes of such a nature.

A Call Option of Sorts

I am supposed to be sleeping. Hell Week is, in a sense, over. The worst has passed and there is only the weekend to look forward to. What was supposed to be a dinner-movie-clubbing thing tomorrow turned out to have to exclude its only male participant - moi. In any case, I wouldn't have fitted in with 10 other ladies (much to their disappointment, so I believed).

So... I'm supposed to be sleeping. See, it's like a call option (and here I launch into the "What I learnt in Biz school mode"). A call option, in its most basic form and which I can express in words, is an option which when you buy, and which when exercised gives you a share of a particular stock at a fixed price. The price is predetermined as is its maturity date. An American option allows you to exercise the share before the maturity date, while a European option restricts you to exercising it only on the maturity date.

This is what happened: I bought a couple of call options known as sleep. When I so choose to exercise them, I am supposed to get sleep. However, I decided that I might need to keep awake later today (so as to read my Corporate Finance Policy M&M bull) that I hedged my bet by drinking two cups of coffee. One at the bar (the free kind) and one while lounging at TCC with a groupmate.

What happened with hedging such was that I am now kept perpetually awake by the coffee (quite akin to somebody holding onto plummeting stock which they are using to hedge against their call option). However, I haven't been able to exercise my option to sleep - the coffee is keeping me awake.

All that shouldn't be making any sense to you nor any student of Finance - ask me again in the morning.

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I also figured that, since I'm almost done torrenting Mai Otome episode 25, I might as well just keep awake a while longer, wait it out, and watch it.

See, the thing about me and anime is that I blame my friend Stripey for making anime such an allure. I'm into the philosophical - harem - yuri - kawaii - techy - mecha - humor - you-name-it-they-got-it shit and anime provides the right mix of everything to make another fan out of me. I'm of the opinion that animation in the States seem targeted at only 2 markets: the male kid so that he will buy the action figure (works for girls too - anyone recall My Little Pony?); the adult who's into somewhat adult humour (I used to like South Park and The Simpsons). The japs seem to view that divide as a spectrum, and fill the market with products that straddle the entire range - look hard enough and you can find anime of any stroke and niche to meet your particular fetish.

Of course the somewhat significant one doesn't know (at least not till recently) that anime is becoming a hobby of sorts. She hasn't made any fuss of it, so long as I'm still the addicted to her I suppose. At least I'm not into collecting figurines in super short skirts, so I'm far from descending into otakudom.

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Damn... that download isn't done yet.

See, I have this friend (don't we all?). He is somewhat attracted to this girl who he's hanging with a little too much. The thing is that they are colleagues and they click really well. He's into girls with spunk like her - she's into males of a particular fair colour though.

The problem is they both have their others. And thus he pretends that he's her best pal and all, just so that he can hang around with her. Well, he's not really pretending per se - he's really the pal-ly kinda guy. She seems to wanna hang out a lot too - it's not really a problem isn't it? They're just pals hanging out, nothing beyond walking that plateau, shooting breeze and talking about the weather (and other more savoury topics).

Maybe it isn't a problem - girls like certain kind of guys because they exude that kind of brother-vibe. You know: they think you're the kind of guy who'll make a great Brudder. Not like in a pesky little kid sibling who pisses on your toys and plays doctor with you. I mean the kind of Brudder who offers a listening ear, an open mind, and passes no judgement. The safe kind of guy who's cool about the gals around him and offers emotional support. The Brudder doesn't get the gal - the Jerko does and that sucks doesn't it? (Say, was that all in the present tense?)

Perhaps it helps that the others are in the land of far, far away. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder (to someone else??). In my friend's case, absence meant options - options meant opportunity, so why not explore some options then? Live life with no regrets, so they say. What's to lose? And if the options don't work out, there's the fallback plan isn't there?

He's a confused one, that friend. I think he should look for the tangible, and stop asking himself the 'What ifs'. Life isn't about what it can become if you'd done this or that. Life is about having walked the road and asking where to go next. The counter retort to the 'What If' is 'What If it is not'. Answer that question first, my friend.

[Maybe I should start charging for useless emotional advice by the hour... hmm.]

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The download's done! Me - out.

Life isn't Linear

I've closed a chapter in my life and am opening a new one soon. Working in a consulting firm has been one heck of a rideand the best part about it had always been the people I got to work with. I'm sad to leave; I'm happy to depart. :)

Strangely, I did not feel too weird about moving on: it seemed natural. There are folks who leave with moods of lingering resentment, joyful elation, or seeming indifference. For me, I leave knowing that I'm leaving behind people whose lives I have touched, and whose actions have molded me, whether these actions were positive or not was another matter.

I do not feel like this is the end though - life is not a series of milestones that we set ourselves to achieve. The end of primary school may signal the start of secondary school. The departure from one job may signal the beginning of another (well, in my instance, it meant going back to school). But if we were to live life as breakpoints that we are to hit, then we're missing the point about living.

In any endeavour, the best part about it (as I have said before) is that we are given the opportunity to make friends. The business phrase is 'Networking', but that word does injustice to relationships that we build (it subtly suggest that we stand to gain something from it). The relationships we build do not end when that particular endeavour (a project, school year, NS etc) concludes. Rather, the relationships endure and we seek to build on them. Well, some of us do anyway.

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In many ways, we touch those around us, and those around us help shape what we become. It is more than the web of relationships we build - it is what we are.

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.

An Aspect of Expectations

Human beings are such selfish creatures.

(Author note: Before I go further, these comments don't apply to you, foccacia... views expressed here are born of the active imagination of a stilted mind)

(Hehe...)

There're so many ways for a person to be selfish, one of which, ironically, is through the setting of expectations.

The ironic bit is that some expectations are born out of good intentions. Supposing that I want you to improve, to perform at a higher level than the one you are at now. What I will do is to set some expectations of where I want to see you at, and thereby, you have something to work towards. It is a kind of win-win situation: I have standards which I want to see in you, and you know where I expect you to be.

However, an expectation, as I have learnt the hard way, is a double edged sword. Much as it serves to set a bar, it also sets a limitation. The expectation may be beyond what my abilities can achieve. The expectation may require too drastic a change in me. What then? It becomes something unattainable. The expectation becomes that little seed, when sown in such lethal ways, which blossom into the bloom of failure known as disappointment.

I don't think we expect people to change - we change our expectations knowing full well that people can't change. So many little hurts, disappointments, and broken promises litter the trash heap of junked expectations. We don't help build people by telling them what we expect of them: we are bringing them down.

Think about it: isn't the expectation a way of saying that you're inadequate now? Won't expectations hobble any dreams, perhaps lower the lofty heights that the 'expectee' might achieve? An unattainable expectation may serve to discourage, while an attainable expectation might mean undermining one's abilities - expectations, after all, aren't made with the expectee's interests at heart.

Therein lies the problem with an expectation - it is selfish. It is a creation of the expector, with little or no consultation from the expectee. Even in the instance where the expectee's opinions are sought, the expectee's views and critique invariably shapes the expector's expectations, whether or not the expectee liked it or not.

In other words, he has been judged even before the formal process (if there's ever such a thing) of expectation setting is concluded.

The question then, is: should we expect anything at all then, knowing that we open ourselves to the possiblity of disappointment, knowing that we limit the achievements we hope to see?

One can only hope (have faith; it is far better this way).

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

Perhaps it is much better to throw in the towel, quit trying and admit that "YES! I'm not strong enough. I don't deserve YOU!". But having accepted the lifeline, I acceot that there is an opportunity to change how you feel.

Perhaps you will be impatient, you won't wait. That is fair - I shouldn't be the reason why you're being held back.

Perhaps I'm fundamentally unchangeable. This means that no matter how hard I try, I cannot pass off being something I am not.

Perhaps you've seen me for who I really am: insecure, weak, defective. I am not all these. I am sometimes these and I am sometimes something else. Are you sure you really know me?

Perhaps you will give me a shot at redemption. I wanted to traverse the course with you since the beginning, and you gave me the assurance that you wanted to do the same. Why can't we work together on it now?

Perhaps I shouldn't wonder - what good comes of asking what if? Live life with no regrets, and perhaps 'perhaps' will no longer be a word muttered this often.

I don't have the conviction now. I'll prove to you that there is one.