Someone just help me

please…. Resistance is so completely futile; I know I’ll lose anyway.

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Life and How to Survive It

This is a well-written speech! Found this on Joel Kek’s blog and took it from Mr Wang Says So. This was written some time ago by Adrian Tan, a litigator and author of The Teenage Textbook, to the NTU graduating class of 2008.

–

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.

My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.

On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.

Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.

And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men: when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.

Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.

You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process” and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.

The good news is that they’re wrong.

The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.

You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino. It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.

Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.

So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.

Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy.

I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy.

After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average.

Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.

That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.

If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average.

What you should prepare for is mess. Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.

Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.

What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.

Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.

The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable.

Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.

There’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.

People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway.

Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.

I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction – probably a sports journalist.

So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher.

Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working.

Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth. I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.

In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.

One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.

The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.

Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work – the only kind of work that I find palatable.

Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul.

Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.

You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.

You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you.

Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone.

You’re going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there’s no life expectancy.

–

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The boy named J.

It was hostile at first. Topical Science Examinations, Upper Level (Primary 5-6) now laid bare before us. Earlier he had lugged the book to the green table, burst it open, and plonked down on the mini chair. He had asked where Lincoln was, asking impatiently if he would come today. I explained to him that his usual “tutor” only came once a week. He went back to the book and reluctantly scribbled the MCQ option “1″ for the answer book. It was wrong. But I continued working my way through the delish pancake wrapped in brown paper.That was my lunch, and I intended to eat it slowly.

“What flavour is that?”, came the question.

“Oh, this? Peanut. Have you tried it?”

“Wait. From where?”

“The one outside the MRT station. You know, the Docha bakery when you come out of the exit?”

“Wait. Which one?”

“The one you walk out can find already.”

“Oh – that one! I always buy from there.”

The conversation evolved quickly, from how he always bought the cheese pancake when he had the chance (which is why he got the pancake for 50 cents instead of $1.20) to his experimentation with more cheese (a dollars worth of cheese dripping out of the pancake). The next question was about earthworms.

“Did you know, that when earthworms eat other earthworms, they squirt cheese?”

We both knew that was ridiculous. I laughed, and he did too. I told him not to tempt me – I have a passion for cheese. And my pancake lunch was hardly very satisfactory.

“Yes, it’s true. Cheese.” He felt a need to make his point visible, and drew a cheese-spurting pancake on page 67 of Topical Science Examinations. “It’s bigger, though”, J reflected in jest.

Then we started talking. He was an intelligent boy with an unfortunate past. The same intelligence was occasionally redirected toward manipulating otherwise innocuous words, but for the most part, it enabled him to carry out surprisingly decent  and pleasant conversation. It evolved from Canada’s foreign currency (the stimulus was a $1 coin he produced suddenly – apparently it’s this new popular thing in primary schools to own foreign tender), to Michael Jackson (and he knows about his custom-made shoes), to magic. That’s where I realised J was no ordinary boy – despite being primary 6, he knew card tricks and was going to perform a David Copperfield-esque trick at the next CC event. He laid out the plan in some detail, explaining how he would run from the back door to appear in another stage.

He listened with rapt attention as I told him the “two keys of magic”: timing and exposure. I backed up my immense knowledge of magic with borrowed material about the impressive illusion set-ups from The Prestige, way before David Copperfield was even concocted. I told him how you should always show the audience your “bare hands” before you did any trick – convincing them that an illusion could not occur, then doing  the illusion and making it magic.

All the children in the Centre went to playground after that. The bond was complete; he was talking about his previous experience with card tricks, without the initial restraint. The playground experience redefined catching for me. Children have such energy. I introduced the term “rally” to him for badminton, and he picked it up like wind would to dust.  Occasionally he lost the notion of “rally” and hit the shuttlecock too hard; two of them (out of three) landed on the ceiling bar.

Make no mistake – J was not this hapless toddler, nor was he this typically thin young Primary-schooler, with blue metal-rimmed glasses and big eyes. He was pudgy, wore thick black glasses, and had small eyes.  He had no impressive features, but he did have a wonderful but unchallenged mind. The connection came through. I was no longer the one who “replaced Lincoln”  – in thirty minutes, I became Lincoln.

-

Lincoln, if you actually read this, J’s mine!!

Read this fifty times

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either curved point,- what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contended? Think. In mounting higher,
The angels would press on us and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay
Rather on earth. Beloved,-where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day.
With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

- Sonnets from the Portuguese, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

I have never been moved by a poem as much as this has. Think about how every single word has a specific purpose in the poem – the meanings blend and converge into one. An absolute masterpiece.

that extra 4km

Just when I thought I would waste today by not learning a single thing, this day taught me something new and valuable. I was getting more confident of running long distances – it wasn’t the long distance that taught me, but the time taken to run that distance.

13.5km Original Route

17.6km Actual route

For those map-literate, keeping to the original route would mean running through Tanglin, bypassing Redhill and running along the MRT route. Yet the route I took indeed cut through Tanglin, but I somehow strayed into Jervois, and landed up in Ganges Avenue, into Bukit Ho Swee, and Tiong Bahru.

At point 6 it began drizzling; by the time I reached 7 it was pouring. I stayed in a bus-stop, seeking shelter and doing the typical stationary exercises (dips, etc.). Soon it lightened to a mild drizzle, signalling that I could now move on. Then the mistake: I went onto Jervois Road – a highly unintelligent move. At point 8 I felt lost, and at 9 I asked a nice lady with a mixed accent who directed me to Tiong Bahru. And another lady who displayed some concern at me running in the rain. (I have this thing for asking ladies – there was this man I asked, but he couldn’t speak English, twirled his umbrella, and vigorously shook his head. This effectively proves that only females can sing.) It took another question to get me to Tiong Bahru – by then, factoring in all the stop-starts and rain-induced delays, it was 7-ish.

I entered Tiong Bahru station and asked the info counter if they had 10 cents to dial. They kindly gave that, after some hesitation at helping a drenched runner, and I phoned home. The reaction from my mum was expected – she was livid on the time I would return home, which she estimated to be 1.5 hours. Hardly exciting conversation pointless to reproduce here.

And I began to run. Tiong Bahru, Red Hill, Queenstown, Commonwealth, Buona Vista, Dover. Apprently it’s 6.5 km, and I completed it in less than an hour – thinking constantly, praying incessantly. The chief concern was that my mum would be worried, anxious, fearful. I didn’t want that. Weird, though, considering I should be indignant. After running for quite a bit even an hour for that distance seemed difficult – a third of the distance in less than a third of the time, with delays thrown in. Usually that distance is covered in less than half an hour. In any case, the song Though the Rain by mariah kept running through my mind. Very apt and very nice.

Obviously when I went home she was very… dao. She told me about how she called dad, now on a business trip, and “told” him how important it was for me to know how to go about running as a sport.

Perhaps the only compensation for running so long is that I become almost soaked. The smell from rain is satisfying. Make that the second. In fact, here’s a third: add two kinks to today’s track and it becomes a Singapore F1 racecourse lookalike. I loved today’s experience.

Getting lost is wonderful – if only I had more time to wander, then I would find my way.

When you get caught in the rain
With noware to run
When you’re distraught
And in pain without anyone and you feel so far away

That you just can’t find your way home
You can get there alone
It’s okay
What you say is,

I can make it through the rain
I can stand up once again
On my own and I know
That I’m strong enough to mend
And every time I feel afraid
I hold tighter to my faith
And I live one more day
And I make it through the rain

And if you keep falling down
Don’t you dare give in
You will arise safe and sound
So keep pressing on steadfastly
And you’ll find what you need to prevail
What you say is

I can make it through the rain
I can stand up once again
On my own and I know
That I’m strong enough to mend
And every time I feel afraid
I hold tighter to my faith
And I live one more day
And I make it through the rain

And when the wind blows
As shadows grow close
Don’t be afraid
There’s nothing you can’t face
And should they tell you
You’ll never pull through
Don’t hesitate
Stand tall and say I

I can make it through the rain
I can stand up once again
On my own and I know
That I’m strong enough to mend
And every time I feel afraid
I hold tighter to my faith
And I live one more day
And I’ll make it through the rain

I can make it through the rain
And stand up once again
And I live one more day, and I
I can make it through the rain
Oh yes, you can
You’re gonna make it through the rain.

what i don’t understand

This isn’t going to be a Lee-Wei-Ling-esque sort of thing, preaching conservatism or anti-materialism. (I find it almost laughable that she can be talking about the mind-improving, values-enhancing benefits of sleeping on a hard bed and talk about her in-house gym equipment and large bubble-jet printer in the same article.)

But I still cannot fail to be amazed by the inequality that exists, or is allowed to exist, in societies today. Last night I was just about to sleep, and was reaching out my hands to switch off the lights when I took this cursory glance around the room. The air-con was on, the ceiling was more than 3 metres high, there was a computer fan whirring, reluctant to shut down, the books I had, the windows and blinds, even the awards.  And I was on this non-budget mattress (you know what this means) with an actual bed cover. And was full from eating a luxury brand of ice-cream (told you I was not particularly conservative). What point do I even have to make here, that hasn’t been made before? Perhaps the fact that I am just too privileged to complain, yet I persist in doing so.

Life is easy when the air-con is on.

back for good

Time heals.

I’ve exited from the more severe stages of depression with surprising expediency. I’m ready to speak. And it’s queer how the daily hits skyrocketed on the day that post was published. I still mean every word there: my mind hasn’t changed, it’s just that my emotional state has improved. I’m ready to speak, instead of leaving a queer, if not shocked, cliffhanger dangling in the minds of those even remotely concerned.

This crisis was unique in a few ways: firstly, the unprecedented plunge in my results. I don’t mean to be a snob armed with a loud-hailer, but my grades for anything have never fallen bellow 70 (i.e. the GPA 3.6), in close to 2 decades of existence. Naturally this applies to quite a number of people in RJC, but I can safely say I belong to a minority. It is cowardly to excuse myself for taking two entirely new subjects, Lit and Econs. In fact I was doing surprisingly well for both, until the Promos, which turned the tables. Imagine topping the level for Lit in one semester, then not hitting even an A all of a sudden. It’s not being a snob: on the contrary, it’s applying realistic standards. It was a freak result.

Many puzzled with the duration of this depression phase must understand that I had great expectations vested on me. Real failure is not 45 or 50, it’s the defeat of expectation. In my case it was catastrophic defeat – a field day for the mother of success, for all of my subjects. It wasn’t just a battle won, but a war which seemed over in the hour the results were released, and for a day I was unable to express any emotion. In fact throughout the post-results period, I didn’t even shed a tear. Not because it was “un-macho” to do so (frankly those who try to be macho turn out to be quite the opposite), but that I just didn’t feel any sadness for the first day. The first two days were characterised by numbness to the surroundings: people, family, anyone.

And the people who stood by helped me cope with the trauma. So it befits this post to publicly thank a few people who have made some critical difference to my state of mind. In particular, Ren Yan and Nicchee, who would suddenly grow quiet in front of me, avoiding topics, keeping quiet, cocooned within a mutual, but silent, understanding. Nigel, whose timely advice on drawing closer to God initially irritated me, but made sense soon after. Chele, whose conversation makes me know I’m not alone in this; Annie, whose extent of concern took me by gentle surprise. And my class, who forbore my silence. (and Jo and Robyn, who cutely tried to make conversation more than a couple of times.)

Quite a number asked how I was. The extent of this crisis could have struck some deeper chords of experiences people usually hide somewhere in their mind. I thank these people, and I might not have been very responsive, but I’ll try to respond in a more coherent manner in the near future. As mentioned in the previous post, my default answer is always “okay” to these things, without any tearful elaboration.

I should heal soon. Things will return back to normal. My confidence has been shattered badly for some subjects and almost entirely for others. It will take time to piece everything back together. I’m living within a dreamy continuum now. What went wrong? While this question remains I still am reluctant to consult any teachers at this point of time. The trauma is still unfolding.

I’m back, for good. I ran 15 km today, retracing the usual way to school, and it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. My appetite for good music from the Females Who Can Sing has returned. As Judith Guest would put it, depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling. I am not okay, but I’ll get there, with some help from God if He has some time to spare and doesn’t mind helping. It’d be nice to have some wisdom and favour in dealing with examinations. And failure.

I’m ready to take on more challenges. For now, I don’t need any more failures.

my saving grace

I wish I could sing this with conviction now.

I’ve still got a lot to learn
But, at least I know where I can turn
When I’m in my times of need
Just as long
(As I know all things are possible)
Just as long as I believe

I’ve loved a lot, hurt a lot
Been burned a lot in my life and times
Spent precious years wrapped up in fear
With no end in sight
Until my saving grace shined on me
Until my saving grace set me free

Giving me peace
Giving me strength when I’d
Almost lost it all
Catching my every fall
I still exist because you keep me safe
I found my saving grace within you

Yes, I’ve been bruised
Grew up confused
Been destitute
I’ve seen life from many sides
Been stigmatized
Been black and white
Felt inferior inside
Until my saving grace shined on me
Until my saving grace set me free

Giving me peace
Giving me strength when I’d
Almost lost it all
Catching my every fall
I still exist because you keep me safe
I found my saving grace within you

And the bountiful things that you do
Lord thank you
For delivering me

And giving me peace
Giving me strength
Giving me hope when I’d
Almost lost it all
Catching my every fall
I still exist because you keep me safe
Always my saving grace
Pulls me through
I found my saving grace within you

(Yes you are – you’re my every, everything)
Within you…
(Only, only you)
Yes lord
(Only you)
My saving grace lord is
You