yongsheng speaks

Archive for the ‘letters’ Category

Life and How to Survive It

In feel, letters, think on 16 April, 2010 at 10:46 pm

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.

I want a life story.

In letters on 18 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

When you read this, I will either be doing last-minute shopping in Taiwan, or onboard a plane, dizzy with the stench airlines criminally call “perfume”. Or perhaps you’ll catch this post while I cab with my family back home. Returning to Singapore, hopefully recharged and ready to start a new school year.

What?

A new school year? Is that what I’m really looking forward to? Is school what anyone really looks forward to? No. You don’t look forward to school – you look forward to the education it provides. But we often view the learning process as a stepping stone, so it becomes altogether bearable and occasionally fun. Now I am not adopting a spoilt prat whining about the redundancy of institutionalised education, but where is the meaning in that?

It would be prudent to think carefully of what you want to do in the future. Nowadays that sends me into minor panic attacks – what will your future hold? Life is like a stimulation military strategy in real-life: nothing goes according to plan. (I know it’s good – came up with that myself.)

Naturally it’d be foolish to just blurt out what I want to do in life in the public domain, despite my acknowledgement of the new era of self-voyeurism we discussed earlier. The plan is ambitious, no doubt, and I have no idea whether I’ll ever accomplish that. But look at it in detail, and one realises it isn’t very exciting at all, with no revolutionary pathways, no allowance for Lord Chance. Of course one could argue that the most significant things revolutionising our lifestyle were made by a perfect concoction of innovation, chance and (then) a little hard work. Facebook was the result of 4 college grads pouncing on an idea, it’s now worth billions. So were many other innovations.

I don’t need to discover something washingly new (Tip: to circumvent cliché use, invent words Shakespeare-style). It could be doing something even appealing. It should be story-worthy both to yourself and others. In the movie 21, Jim Sturgess (actor’s name) is among 30 other applicants just like him: blazingly gifted. To enter Harvard Medical School he requires an all-expenses paid Robinson scholarship (or something to that effect). In the interview room, he is asked what is so special about him – “tell me something dazzling”.

Sturgess begins the story where he begins as a freshman trying to earn scrapes of money (read: $5 per hour for a $30 000 tuition course) by working in a fashion store. When his professor inducts him into card-counting with blackjack, he manages to earn all the money required to fit the tuition bill. In the real-life instance on which the film was based, decades ago, the students earned $80 per hour- tens of times what they would working elsewhere. Factor in inflation, and it becomes quite clear what that amount could get you then. Naturally the film develops Hollywood-style complications. After he finishes relaying the story, the scholarship official is speechless. “Dazzled”, to use his own words.

And so you say I want to count cards in blackjack. Nah. Firstly, it’s illegal in most places. And secondly I have little interest in card games. But you never know. Life is unpredictable – a combination of free will, fleeting opportunities and an irrationality only humans can deliver.

It’s uncomfortable having a “life experience”. It consumes you. If the experience does come to pass, then it could leave behind a soul whose eyeballs are gouged out (once again, skip the “empty soul” cliché).

Fancy being a celebrity, anyone? And I don’t mean Miley Cyrus.

-

P.S. I will always like you. (This is so corny. But this is to stick to the plot. I’m the compliant-type.)

P.P.S. Miley has gotten her life experience a little too early, in my useless opinion.

P.P.P.S. I’m supposed to be dead and this is supposed to be the schmaltzy, snivelling moment where she reads her last letter aloud. I do hope you enjoyed the letters, however banal the basis for writing them. Leave a comment! Now let me get a life. Taiwan, here I come!

I quiver when listening to good music

In good vibrations, letters on 17 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

It’s true. The moment good music comes across through the speakers, I shudder. It’s a reflex response. Believe it or not, I just discovered Beyonce’s Halo a few minutes ago. I was marvellously confused when girls were talking about “halo”, because prior knowledge told me that it was a videogame which many boys liked. I last listened to it during a wedding tea reception, but had trouble identifying the name or singer. Halo is a divine song – everything that can be right in a song, is in this song. My extreme selectiveness in music means that only very few songs qualify. The voice, the rhythm, the meaning, and yes, even the lyrics, blend so artfully it’s almost impossible to judge this song under a negative light. Halo is what the modern song should be.

And just yesterday I discovered Toni Braxton’s Yesterday. Another fine voice – you, you are so yesterday. Her magnificently mature voice, when infused into modern beat, works to her credit. Although the following video shows a remix with Trey Songz, the original version by her alone is moving. (In fact I’m only including this video because it’s more watch-able.)

[Toni]
Oh ohh noo ohh ohh

[Trey]
Toni

[Toni]
I gave you the benefit of the doubt
Till you showed me what you were about
Your true colours came out

And your words couldn’t hide the scent
Cuz the truth about where you been
Is in a fragrance I can’t recognize…

Standing there
Scratching your head
Blood shot eyes, drunk with regret
(hanging yourself , ten feet over the edge)

I’m done with this
Feeling like an idiot
Loving you, I’m over it
I just don’t love you, don’t love you no more

[Chorus]
You, you are so yesterday
Never thought you’d loose my love this way
Now you come begging me to stay

Say, you, you are so yesterday
I Won’t let you rain on my parade
Don’t wanna hear a thing you say
So yesterday

[Trey]
Baby what you’re saying to me is
There’s no more you and I
I couldn’t get it right on yesterday
So kiss our tomorrows goodbye
Baby love shouldda brought me home
Shoulda just been a man about it
But now i’m crying like a baby girl your love is like my blanket don’t know what to do without it

I’m standing here pleading my case
You dont care to hear what I say

[Toni]
(hanging yourself , ten feet over the edge)

[Trey]

My promises, don’t mean a thing, the end is so disgusting

[Toni]
I just dont love you, dont love you no more

[Chorus]
You, you are so yesterday (oww)
Never thought you’d loose my love this way
Now you come begging me to stay

Honey, you, you are so yesterday
I won’t let you rain on my parade
Don’t wanna hear a thing you say
So yesterday

[Bridge] Both
And now you wanna reminisce (now I wanna reminisce)
Say you wanna try again
(said I wanna try again)
It started with a little kiss (a kiss, a kiss)
(we cant even repent) no no

Now I never wanna see you, Never wanna feel you
Never wanna hear you
I don’t love you, don’t need you, can’t stand you
No More..

[Chorus]
You, you are so yesterday
Never thought you’d loose my love this way
(toni please, dont leave)
Now you come begging me to stay (I won’t stay)

Baby you, you are so yesterday
I Won’t let you rain on my parade (wowww)
Don’t wanna hear a thing you say
(dont you leavee)

So yesterday
So yesterday
So yesterday

-

P.S. I like you. Quiver quiver.

P.P.S. I’ve a nagging suspicion that Beyonce will overtake Mariah in the P100 in 2 years time.

Pau

In letters, moronics on 16 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

P.S. Don’t we all love modern art?

P.P.S . Oh I forgot – I do like you!

Carnations

In letters, poetry on 15 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

She wrote, saying that he had died.

I’m supposed to be traumatized -
terrified – weeping for a week,
But I’m not.
I’m not, and there’s a tingling numbness
in my chest,
Relief… no more
awkward over-dinner conversations,
no more strangled silences over the line,
no more forced hugs.
I get to go to his funeral, and
give Mum carnations.

P.S. I like you, but I prefer my carnations.

This is really a gerbera posing as a carnation, for the purpose of this poem. © yongsheng, so don't you think about it.

My Inventions

In funnies, letters on 14 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

Roll-on butter, anyone?

Roll-on butter, anyone?

MBA (Marriage but available) is so passe...

MBA (Marriage but available) is so passe...

I'm a fan of instant noodles.

I'm a fan of instant noodles.

Dry heels.

Dry heels.

First it was child labour...

And just when we thought child labour was bad enough...

Keep absolutely dry.

Keep absolutely dry.

In short: a socially-dysfunctional device.

It's only a socially-dysfunctional device.

Sleep standing. (I need this.)

Sleep standing. (I need this.)

Sleep sitting! (I want this as well.)

Sleep sitting! (I want this as well.)

Verdict: Worth every consideration

P.S. I like you. But then again I’m too smart to like anyone. Rich investors please drop a line.

The vitaminXKFN-enriched diet

In letters on 13 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

(You needn’t bother watching all these commercials; they essentially say the same thing.)

I didn’t grow up on a diet with much enriched milk powder (yes, I suckled – speech taboo dismantled). In fact during that time there wasn’t much of a industry for these wonderful new formulas. My mum gave me porridge mixed with ground ikan bilis and black beans, and a whole host of other nutritious things. It was very much D.I.Y., home-made goodness.

So when I first got my first taste of Heinz beef (I don’t know what form that took), I was enthralled. My mum says my eyes lit up like a bulb bursting. Good memories.

But truth be told, I was brought up more on a diet of good films. The Sound of Music and My Fair Lady, in particular, remain firmly in my mind. These films are classics. While they are rooted in a certain era and place, their messages are so appealing they become addictive. The themes brought up in both musicals-turned-megamovies were ingrained in my consciousness long before I knew what “themes” were. The crossing of social classes, unlikely romances, familial tensions that constituted the soul of these timeless pieces made for wonderful enjoyment. I remember we bought this silver DVD player which was considered revolutionary for its time, with plenty of buttons I didn’t know how to press (and now I still don’t know because we rented it out).

You are sixteen, going on seventeen, baby, it’s time to think! You know I can remember the lyrics word for word. I can tell you the intonations, how they sound, where they come. I could even sing it, but then again it’s difficult to ridiculous to absolutely absurd to even suggest beating Julie Andrews’ voice (she sang for both movies). I know that I’m naive – fellows who meet me may tell me I’m sweet, and willingly I’ll believe! The innocence characterising by the Von Trapp children and Eliza DooLittle remains adorable. And so I remain a fan.

She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee, her dress has got a tear

She waltzes on her way to Mass and whistles on the stairs
And underneath her whimper, she has curlers in her hair
I even heard her singing in the abbey
She’s always late for chapel (but her penitence is real)
She’s always late for everything (except for every meal)
I hate to have to say it, but I very firmly feel
Maria’s not an asset to the abbet
I’d like to say a word on her behalf: Maria makes me laugh!

(Mother Abbess interjects)
How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?

New baby milk commercial advertising should have something of this sort: When you read you begin with ABC milk formula, when you sing you begin with our RayRay Me-ilk! duh.

Now put it all together: Soh Doh La Fa Me Doh Re! Good! / But it doesn’t mean anything! / So we put in words! One word for every note, like this… / You can sing almost anything!

P.S. I like you. Oh, and the part about bulb-bursting isn’t true. The part about my eyes sparkling is true though. It sparkled like sparkly things – those very sparkly things.

P.P.S. Aint’ this just fun? It’s like I’m telling you this face-to-face, but this was done before I left. Drop a comment if you care for my incredibly healthy ikan-billis-filled baby diet.

You can watch me on your video phone

In letters on 12 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

You don’t need to know the lyrics, but you can surmise that it’s two seductive women singing over a phone with video capacities. Needless to say, the phone must have had very advanced video capabilities to evoke such a strong response from the top-hitting women in music. We are a voyeuristic bunch. In modern music people allow themselves to be voyeur-ed and we pay them so we can be voyeuristic. Then we pretend to be decent and then pay more for services rendered. “PAID”, says the label, red, bold, underlined and overlined, pasted in a neat sticker on the album cover. Oh, and “Shingz”.

When we had this “portfolio blog” thing in sec 3, this received some mention. Naturally the depth of understanding wasn’t there, but suffice to say, the two-years-ago-me adopted the perspective that the age of blogging was self-evidently a vehicle for people to be the subjects of voyeur themselves. It’s a whole new generation of voyeurism. And just like the web, it is titled V2.0, which stands for Voldermort 2. I got full marks for that assignment, which tells a lot about the veracity of my analysis. In reality, it was filled with the following stanza. I think it was the overflowing literary merit that gave me the full score:

So press record, I’ll let you film me
On your video phone, make a cameo
Tape me on your video phone, I can handle you
Watch me on your video phone, on your video, video
If you want me you can watch me on your video phone

P.S. I like you, but I prefer the videophone.

P.P.S. Sorry this came just last minute: a recently-unearthed Mariah Carey bonus track, Heat, revealed findings of an exceptionally high slut coefficient:

I see you put your favorite
Dress on again
I guess you thought
That you would stick
but now you’re ready ?
You got your tag tucked in
Strugglin’
Tryin to look cute in your
Best friend’s boots
But they don’t hardly fit
Why you back again
Tryin’ to steal man
I told you once before
But you don’t know me

I ain’t who you think I’m is
I will snatch off all this ish
You think I won’t come out of
These heels and make it clear, ho?
(I ain’t the one)
You think I won’t f*ck up my hair and take it, b*tch?
Keep your hands off of my boo
Ain’t no tellin’ what I’ll do
What makes you think you
Fly enough to take my man?
(Not, y’all ain’t the one)

[N.B.: "boo", in mariah slangland, stands for her husband Nick Cannon.]

P.S. I like you.

In firsts!, letters on 11 December, 2009 at 10:00 am

P.S. I Love You is unembellished in plot – but that adds, to its credit, an emotional depth rare in modern films. Those who didn’t watch the film suffer a loss they can scarce fathom. P.S.I L U revolves the death of Irishman Gerard Butler (the actor’s name), an incurably sweet romantic, who writes a series of 10 letters before his passing to his wife Holly (this actress’ name I cannot remember). In these letters he helps Holly restore her life, after the emotional cliff representing his death. Every single one is footnoted with the words “P.S. I Love You.” He books a trip for her and her friends to Ireland, where they first met, in the full hope she’ll get better.

And so here’s my version of P.S. I Love You, an equivalent decidedly less romantic, certainly more quirky, and assuredly less slang-ish. The 7 posts which follow (it would have been 10, but I’ll only be gone for 7 days) are sans Irish slang, so you dn’t hauve ter decoude thee lingo-cultural lauyerrs of complehxity (LCLC) in me lenguage.

Comment anyway. In Taiwan, I won’t know a thing you whisper in the comments. It’d be awfully nice to have a big bundle of comments to read when I return. You know that feeling – people respond, and you feel all warm and fuzzy (it’s really because of the weather).

The posts will come with the full might of mother earth.

Check back everyday. Bookmark this page with a little link in your trousers browser for your posterity pastime. Who knows, you might get to know me better. They will appear at 10a.m. each day. (yes, the first one appears in just 24 hours. fancy that!)

-

P.S. I love don’t love like you. Enjoy the snowflakes.

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