Introspection and humility

Introspection is a thing sorely lacking in our world. There are too many people busy peering into other people's lives, giving their own opinions and comments about them, without once considering their own lives. I have no doubt that this world would be a better place if everyone thought before they spoke, and by think here I mean not merely to check if what you want to say is sensible, but also if it is necessary, and helpful to the situation. The greatest problem with advancing such a stance, however, is that in order to promote introspection, a judgement first has to be made on the current practices of others, which is in itself a contradiction of the principle of introspection,that is, to judge not. You see, one can never tell people, "do not judge", or "think before you speak", or "consider the feelings of others if you were in their shoes", without arousing the self-defensive instincts of others. The reaction is almost invariably to hit back. "How dare you judge me yourself! Practice what you preach," or "It's very well for you to say so, but I don't see you doing what you just said". These are possible responses. And since the person who raises the objection to judging in the first place usually cannot respond credibly to such accusations, the cycle of accusation and recrimination goes on (sounds like Long Day's, I know, but it's the only way I could think of to express my point haha). Introspection can never be effectively preached; it must first be practiced.

It is a sad state of affairs, because it is a point desperately in need of acceptance, and yet one that few can propagate effectively. To be introspective, or to be circumspect, is a message superficially well-received from pulpits. I say superficially, because when preached from pulpits everyone of course agrees with it. After all, they think, X really ought to mind his business, or, how I wish Y could hear this message, what a slap to the face that would be. And therein lies the irony. That while listening to a message of introspection people would be busily thinking about all the people who should practice more introspection, without considering how the message applies to themselves. What is even more distressing is that apart from the pulpit the only really effective way to bring home such a point would be to raise it in those particular situations where introspection and consideration of others' feelings most need to be practiced, since those moments are the ones where people can really be made to see how introspection actually applies to their own, internal lives. And yet, those moments are also the ones where people get most defensive, since the credibility of whoever is raising the point can never be entirely secure, unless of course it was a pastor, in which case the defensiveness might be transformed into private mutterings of "It's easy for him to say..."

And so the problem perpetuates itself. If anything I think this is something that's been brought to my mind repeatedly recently, so maybe God's trying to tell me something. You know what's the biggest obstacle to introspection? Pride. Admitting that you have a plank in your own eye. The fear of others saying, Ha, he's finally learnt his lesson. Sometimes, isn't it easier to continue in a sin simply to avoid the admittance of guilt? Because to change one's ways would be to admit one was wrong in the first place.

Introspection must go hand in hand with humility.

I came home, and felt completely exhausted after a bath. It's been happening more often these days. It's as if the experience of going through a school day is just so physically draining now. Maybe it's just the tension of waiting to get back all the results. Do you realise today is only Thursday? One week ago we were still revelling in our post prelim freedom. In fact, it's only been less than two weeks since the end of the prelims. And yet, it seems so long ago when I wrote the last sentence of the last essay of the last paper. Paradoxically, the five weeks left before the first A Level paper seem too short for me. Hai, I just want to get back all my results quickly so I can stop mental marking and anticipating and actually focus on pure mugging.

Today we got back our Lit pc paper. I shall not talk much about that here. What's done is done, really, and I shall just pray that in the A's I'll interpret the passages correctly.

What was more interesting was our GP lesson. An essay question on God and Science turned into a really philosophical discussion, the kind I like. Morality is such a fascinating field of study. Someone once said that it takes more faith to be an atheist than to believe in God. I really think that's true. Science is actually a poor place to begin if you want to disprove the existence of God. So many physicists have turned believers in recent years because their study of the universe throws up more and more evidence of the unmistakable print of Intelligent Design. The chances of life randomly forming out of inanimate matter, back at the beginning of the universe, were as low as if a tornado were to blow into a warehouse and accidentally form a working Boeing 747 plane, as a researcher once put it. Ignoring all other evidence, I think even this point alone must give atheists pause. They say we believe blindly, ignoring all the evidence against God. On the contrary, I say we have made a thorough study of the universe, and having found it incredible that such a world as this could exist by chance, have reached the logical conclusion that at least a creative higher power exists. Which is more unbelievable? That the Red Sea could part due to divinely directed wind, or that by random chance the human brain, in all its marvellous complexity so much so that if even one small part were out of place it would cease to function, could evolve from inanimate matter? It's like believing the pieces of a watch could assemble themselves to form a fully working device by the chance of a hundred million years. Nay, for all of creation redounds to the glory of God, so that men are left without excuse.

Deep thinking on a Thursday afternoon, and we're only scratching the surface. I'm going to bed...

Reading through various blogs I began to hope that as we age, or should I say mature, our angst will decrease. I won't say a majority, but a great many of the blogs I've seen are filled with posts that reek of teenage angst. I sometimes wonder why so many people around this age seem to go through such miserable, dysfunctional private lives. Perhaps that's over-stating the problem a bit. Everyone has their own internal problems after all, and God knows I flare up in angst from time to time. And angst itself (such a..."teenage" word), is not strictly confined to adolescence. It is used to describe a strong feelings of unhappiness and anxiety about a situation in life. I think the reason why it's been applied to teenagers so often is because this is the age group that handles problems worst. We are not more prone to troubles than others. We just handle them badly, and out of the mire of our messes there arises a need for catharsis or expression, amply found in blogging. And because if this, we see plenty of blog posts filled with rants and angst, spewing forth frustration at the world/school/whatever's-bothering-you-now. This therefore exaggerates the actual amount of angst in the lives of teenagers, making them all easily stereotyped as emo/angsty/conflicted types.

Then there's another, simpler explanation of course, that we all really lead such miserable lives, and that the angst in blogs is not exaggerated at all, but rather an honest expression of misery and frustration. Indeed, who can say how miserable one should feel before becoming angsty? One person's molehill is another's mountain.

If you ask me though, I subscribe more to the first explanation, but like every good arts student I realise there are many factors in this issue, therefore no one explanation is sufficient haha. And I would add that teenage angst is often exaggerated because of language. I am quite sure that people of all ages and of all time periods in history suffer from angst, but one reason why this particular generation seems so angsty is because of its language. Vulgarities and curses adorn the pages of many a blog, because in this day and age, the f-word is apparently the best way of expressing one's frustration. And since the f-word was orginally created as an extremely vulgar word, its assimilation into the everyday language of youths, indeed of society in general, must appear as a reflection of the moral degradation of our time, that we have allowed our standards to slip. And what is more, the development of blogging has allowed people to post such language online for the world to see, where once it was confined only to conversations. This therefore amplifies the sense of angst among the youth of today. No doubt the people of the past had their own unique curses, but I do believe rectititude, self-control, and social grace was higher then, thereby limiting the coarseness of everyday language.

In conclusion therefore, I have no idea why I posted that whole load of pseudo-pyschoanalysis and why the whole thing began to sound like a gp essay. It's the first time in a long time I've posted on a random issue out of the blue, I think. Haha, ah well, I think I'm too bored...

After such a long and tiring day in school yesterday, I went to Glutton's Bay with the cell for dinner. Had a really fun time with them, taking all sorts of ridiculous pictures and such. Photo whoring has never been my thing. I really can't stand taking picture after picture. I don't know why some people like doing so. I mean, yeah, a picture or two is nice, for posterity's sake and remembrance. But really, sometimes people just take pic after pic like they're never going to see each other again, and for goodness' sake, we're in Singapore lah. Pictures by the merlion, gosh... But I'll have to concede that it was all in good fun haha, and I was in high spirits anyway.

Which, I might add, I was not in for a considerable portion of the day. I'm rather upset over my econs essay grades, because they're all so mediocre when I could really have scored at them. But my mcq marks made up for them, and if all goes well with case study and drq I should be able to secure a B, which I'll be happy with. In the meantime, the overall effect of the results has been to motivate me once more to start revising again. I shall start planning my study timetable, although I should probably add here that I've never been good at setting, much less following study timetables. Still, they provide a certain amount of inspiration, like setting goals.

Sushi. I had sushi with Quek yesterday at a restaurant that shall not be named for diplomatic purposes. Anyway we got ourselves all bloated up, and also received a lasting stench of fish for the rest of the day. I tell you, that place absolutely reeks of fish. If not for the fact that you can eat as much as you want I think I would seriously consider not patronising it for both lack of comfort (the smell) and questionable freshness of food (the smell again).

After that we watched The Banquet. Now, it is supposed to be a Chinese adaptation of Hamlet, and while the plot is roughly the same (I say roughly), it simply lacks the flow, or same emotional power as the original. After so many martial arts films coming out of China I think everyone in the West thinks Chinese people must have been brilliant in ancient times at sword fighting and such, and that we all fly here and there when we fight. Transposing that style of martial arts onto Hamlet produces rather ridiculous results. For example, the "Laertes" figure rescues the "Hamlet" figure from assassination by popping out of the ground with his men, and simultaneously killing all the would-be assassins via cross-bows fired in mid air. In another scene, two soldiers fly out of water onto a bridge to halt an oncoming charge of the enemy. Those moments produced more laughs than melodrama.

Then there's the role of the characters. Of course, since Zhang Ziyi's the big star in the movie she gets the most limelight, effectively reducing the screen time of the "Hamlet" figure. This means that the one doing most of the angsty thinking is no longer Hamlet, but rather Ziyi, who plays the Empress, or the "Gertrude" figure. Gertrude is transformed from the mother of Hamlet, into his childhood sweetheart, a change I cannot understand. And, she becomes a scheming venomous female dictator reflctive of the real life Empress Dowager Cixi. Because the focus is no longer Hamlet but rather the whole tangled mass of schemes, the plot loses its intellectual and emotional driving force, since we feel no sympathy for Zhang when she dies or Hamlet when he dies. In short, the movie doesn't work.

What it did for me however, was to spur me to read Hamlet again, which I'm doing for s paper anyway and which I've never thoroughly covered. So i guess at least one good thing came out of it haha.

So, that was yesterday. Today I woke up feeling terribly sleepy since by body clock hasn't readjusted tself, and that feeling carried through for the rest of the day. Got back GP and SEA history papers today. I truly truly thank God for my grades thus far because they're better than I expected. I can say my efforts at SEA history after the debacle of BT2 really paid off. Now, we wait for the rest of the papers...

Updates, updates, updates. I watched Singapore Dreaming today with Beni and Dai Wei. Very good show, easily beats Jack Neo's increasingly commercialised and melodramatic social commentaries. In a sense, it felt like a Singaporean Long Day's Journey Into Night. You aren't moved to tears; you're moved to pity, and to try to understand the conflicting threads in that very Singaporean family. I liked the scene of one of those paper houses at Chinese funerals going up in flames. A very visual reminder of how every material thing in life ultimately ends in death.

Oh yes, I got the V for Vendetta DVD on Saturday! Now I shall be able to re-watch the V speech again, haha.

Nothing much left to say, except perhaps my growing anxiety about the exam results. Hai, truth be told I don't know what to expect from Lit. I certainly hope I won't face the same fiasco at BT2, but then again one never knows. Failure is out of the question, but you also never know if you can score. I know, I know, I shouldn't worry, but I simply can't help it. I've always been a worry wart. I have to learn to leave it all in God's hands.

Post-Prelims

Finally, it's over, for now. How can I adequately describe the feeling of writing the last sentence of the last paragraph of the last essay, knowing that in less than a minute the announcement to stop writing will come? I think it can be described as sheer relief. Like a load off your back.

At last the prelims are over. I guess it's fitting that the last paper should be the hardest. Go out guns ablazing eh? But in any case, I truly thank God for seeing me through this stressful and tiring period. The grades, come as they may, are now entirely in His hands. Whatever doubts I have about the papers are, well, unimportant right now. Not like they can do anything. Now, for the next week or so I shall rest and relax. Ahh... It's nice to spend a weekend knowing you have nothing to do after it.

So after the paper yesterday I went off to church for the concert thanksgiving dinner. Not without a final crisis unfolding first of course, which thankfully had a happy ending. After that I went back to chat and eat with the cell. It's always nice to be back in the company of people with a common love. I liked the videos the media team created for each of the dances. Too bad there was nothing about the poets, but then again, filming someone speaking isn't exactly prime-time material. Then we went off to Macs for some supper and more senseless banter, and finally back home. For once, a peaceful sleep undisturbed by thoughts of the morrow. Ignorance, thy name is bliss.

I feel the urge to debate. Maybe now is the time to consider more unpleasant matters eh, owen? Hmm, but that would be ironic in the light of my last paragraph, haha.

Prelims Part 2, Day 4

Mrs Elizabeth Choy, former teacher in St. Andrew's School, has died. With her passing, the nation, and school, loses another of its war heroes. For it was through her experiences, and her story, that succeeding generations of Singaporeans gained a first hand account of the horrors of occupation and of the Kempeitai, and it was through her that we gain that enduring image of the simple wartime meal of porridge and tapioca. For my part I'll always remember the story of her scrubbing the prison toilet with a stone till it became smooth, and her appearances at Founder's Day each year.

On another note, today I completed the penultimate paper of the prelims. My mood gets better as Friday draws nearer. Tomorrow we shall go at it one last time for this season, another swing at the Cold War. I'm going to give it my best shot, if I can. Pre-exam visualisations are always good, although they must be tempered with qualifications. Here's praying for the best!

Prelims, Part 2, Day 1

Our games being done, we plunge back into the whirlpool to witness the tragic loading of a Moorish bed, and such like. I trust that my bewilderment was not as bad as the weaver's and that I was actually writing sense. It felt like the day on which we did GP, where I got to school feeling all bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep. Well, it will pass, although right now, I'd rather have an amorous liaison in a garden than study. But sacrifices have to be made.

So, we are back into the fray. Two thirds of lit is done, and the rest of the week looks set to be one of non-stop rushing and mugging. I'm looking forward to the dinner on Friday, where I can unwind again. There are benefits to starting the prelims earlier. You don't spend so much time in anxiety before it, and you finish earlier. Ah well, here's to the end then.

We had a buddy group outing yesterday! To Turf City, of all places. To eat steamboat, like the ones at Marina South. The place was so ulu, like some lost part of Singapore still stuck in the 1980s.

I've never particularly liked steamboat, the fried kind. I prefer traditional steamboats where you actually steam the food, not fry it ala Seoul Garden style. Everytime I eat that kind of steamboat I feel the need to go home, bathe, and detoxify. It's like the oil gets everywhere. Oh well, but it makes for great fellowship time I suppose.

The problem with having the holidays in between the prelims is that, while it provides a breather and much needed revision time, it also creates the extremely strong illusion of a holiday. An illusion that I unfortunately allow myself to fall for time and time again. Oh well, I guess I need to continually kick myself in the behind to get back to work.