Oh my Sisyphus! is this riddling piece of thing that well... erm... is riddling. I had the vision described in there. Up til the part of the Dali fairy. Maybe it's about how everything is futile.
Robin Williams (actor) and Che Guevera (revolutionary) and my mother (mother) and Salvatore Dali (artist) and I... we all do everything in futility. and Sisyphus is everybody's king. Except my mother is a little deviant here.
The essay below is written in the way that explains... who is sisyphus... again. I had referred to him in the first oct 06 essay. It's already Nov so I want to put out all the Oct 06 essays. Here's a little trivial about my personal life, today is a special day - 5 Nov 08 - I have been jobless for 4 months.
Oh my king Sisyphus! I should open a bottle of something and drink to him today!
Oh my King Sisyphus!
There has been a lot of mystery shrouding about the myth of Sisyphus, but he is undoubtedly one of the recurring heroes of my joblessness.
Sisyphus was a king of Ephyra (Corinth) in Greek mythology. It is rumored that he was a cruel king, but he is more famed for being the craftiest of men. He was a liar, a strategist, and a master of deceit.
Things seem to start going wrong for him when he went to tell Asopus (the river god), that Zeus (the sort of king of gods) was dating Aegina (the river god’s daughter). Then Asopus got angry with Zeus and Zeus got angry with Sisyphus. So Zeus asked Hades (the god of the dead, also Zeus’s brother) to chain Sisyphus in hell, but Sisyphus made a lot of noise about how Hermes should have came fetch him instead of Thanatos (death), and then tricked Thanatos to chain himself. After tricking a few more people here and there, Sisyphus went back to the human world to stay for a few years and enjoyed himself. He was finally carried back to the underworld by Hermes (who seems to be the god of many things including the cunning of thieves and liars).
As a punishment for his trickery, and especially of his betrayal to Zeus, Sisyphus was ordered to roll a huge rock up a hill. Before he reached the top of the hill, the rock will always escape him, and he had to begin again, and that he does for eternity.
Some people say that Sisyphus and his rock is the sun that rises and sets everyday. Some people say that Sisyphus is the tide of the treacherous sea. I say that Sisyphus is my soulmate for the tormenting ebb of the joblessness that dwells in me. Then again maybe the sun theory is all bogus, and he is just moving a rock around in the underworld. Nothing as glamorous as the sun would be true punishment, for Helios and Apollo must have their own ideas of their own realm. Similarly, there is nothing as cool as the tide of the treacherous sea that will be considered punishment. So, I am forced to conclude that Sisyphus is punished by just moving a rock around and is my soulmate for the tormenting ebb of joblessness in me. It is tormenting because I know that jobfulness is futile and boring. That jobfulness is pushing that rock up and joblessness is the time when he chases the rolling stone down the hill.
How great and capable is Sisyphus to trick so many people, but how dearly he is to pay with such a punishment. Will he one day stop for good? He must trick the nearby underworld dwellers to hold the rock in place for him as he goes gallivanting and exchanging name cards with me.
With technology and progression I’m sure that over the years he must have tricked some of his descendents who became engineers and architects to build him another system to move the rock.
And marketing executives to cheer them on and accountants to figure out the costing and the profit, and cooks to feed these buggers and event managers to entertain these people, and poets and songwriters to sing the futile lives of these people and teachers to teach the children of these people…
And I, the jobless, to feel tormented and touched and untouched and left out.
(For who am I trying to kid? Sisyphus is king. Free of his boulder, he is still king.)
Showing posts with label 2006. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2006. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: IX - At times it just makes sense...
At times it just makes sense... is about well, driving. the title is taken from a charles bukowski collection titled "you get so alone at times that it just makes sense". It's a book of poems i bought from tower books when it was still around.
Written at a time when I was driving in my parent's pickup. I'll talk about it in the essay below.
The phrase "rusty-more-rain-harbouring-sky"... has a background. I wrote many years ago, looking out of my hostel window, with reference to the night sky that's about to rain. Back then the phrase was "Like a fist clenched in restraint, like the rusty sky harbouring rain". something like that. Been wanting to use that phrase for a long time. Still want to use that phrase properly... I have pictures.
The rusty sky looks like this.
Loved the view, the houses always look like they're from a xmas card. This is when the lightning flashed across the sky...
Wonder who's living in the room now... It's been so long ago.
How Xiaobai got its name
Xiaobai means “little white” and is my parents’ white pick-up truck that I drove around especially when I worked for my parents’ company.
It is a pretty old truck, it has been around for about fifteen years, but it does not look so old. It is from Nissan. My brother used to drive it to school when he was 18, but after a while he is driving another car now. So, the pickup is generally at still my disposal, and I like it very much. There is something about Xiaobai that makes me feel that it is heartbroken, but since it doesn’t say much, I won’t probe. Maybe it is about my brother, but I feel that I shouldn’t interfere.
Xiaobai has analog car locks, such that everyone except the driver should lock the door before slamming it close; the driver’s door will have to be locked with the key. This is so that we will not lock the door with the keys inside. Also Xiaobai has analog window winders, and a squeaky accelerator pedal.
There was this one time I fetched my mother with Xiaobai, to Cycle and Carriage, where they fix Mercedes cars. My mother made me go inside with her, and I parked Xiaobai next to the Mercedeses, and it was drizzling lightly.
At the end of the ordeal, my mother was fussing over me and an umbrella, and I said without thinking,
“No time for that, I have to rescue Xiaobai.”
“Who is Xiaobai?” she asked me back curiously.
“The pick-up.” I said, surprised at myself that I called it Xiaobai.
“Rescue from what?” she asked me again curiously.
I shared this feeling with Xiaobai that inherently, we feel nothing wrong with ourselves and we are proud of who or what we are. When juxtaposed with people or cars that look glamorous and dress nicely and feel expensive, they sometimes make us doubt ourselves. Sometimes, when we compare with a lot of them, we feel inferior and out of place. Just as if we place a pretty looking car in the middle of Xiaobais’ alikes, it will too feel out of place and perhaps a little useless because pick-ups are hardy and can do many things pretty cars cannot.
It does not matter if the rest of the cars at Cycle and Carriage were snooty or were bullies, but Xiaobai will sure feel uncomfortable when all of them were of the same kind.
There are some people who think it cool and bohemian. There are some people who really think that driving a pick-up around is quite cheapskate. But driving a pick-up around is actually neither cool nor cheapskate, or both cool and cheapskate.
That’s one thing I miss most about my previous job, driving Xiaobai around.
Written at a time when I was driving in my parent's pickup. I'll talk about it in the essay below.
The phrase "rusty-more-rain-harbouring-sky"... has a background. I wrote many years ago, looking out of my hostel window, with reference to the night sky that's about to rain. Back then the phrase was "Like a fist clenched in restraint, like the rusty sky harbouring rain". something like that. Been wanting to use that phrase for a long time. Still want to use that phrase properly... I have pictures.
The rusty sky looks like this.
Loved the view, the houses always look like they're from a xmas card. This is when the lightning flashed across the sky...
Wonder who's living in the room now... It's been so long ago.
How Xiaobai got its name
Xiaobai means “little white” and is my parents’ white pick-up truck that I drove around especially when I worked for my parents’ company.
It is a pretty old truck, it has been around for about fifteen years, but it does not look so old. It is from Nissan. My brother used to drive it to school when he was 18, but after a while he is driving another car now. So, the pickup is generally at still my disposal, and I like it very much. There is something about Xiaobai that makes me feel that it is heartbroken, but since it doesn’t say much, I won’t probe. Maybe it is about my brother, but I feel that I shouldn’t interfere.
Xiaobai has analog car locks, such that everyone except the driver should lock the door before slamming it close; the driver’s door will have to be locked with the key. This is so that we will not lock the door with the keys inside. Also Xiaobai has analog window winders, and a squeaky accelerator pedal.
There was this one time I fetched my mother with Xiaobai, to Cycle and Carriage, where they fix Mercedes cars. My mother made me go inside with her, and I parked Xiaobai next to the Mercedeses, and it was drizzling lightly.
At the end of the ordeal, my mother was fussing over me and an umbrella, and I said without thinking,
“No time for that, I have to rescue Xiaobai.”
“Who is Xiaobai?” she asked me back curiously.
“The pick-up.” I said, surprised at myself that I called it Xiaobai.
“Rescue from what?” she asked me again curiously.
I shared this feeling with Xiaobai that inherently, we feel nothing wrong with ourselves and we are proud of who or what we are. When juxtaposed with people or cars that look glamorous and dress nicely and feel expensive, they sometimes make us doubt ourselves. Sometimes, when we compare with a lot of them, we feel inferior and out of place. Just as if we place a pretty looking car in the middle of Xiaobais’ alikes, it will too feel out of place and perhaps a little useless because pick-ups are hardy and can do many things pretty cars cannot.
It does not matter if the rest of the cars at Cycle and Carriage were snooty or were bullies, but Xiaobai will sure feel uncomfortable when all of them were of the same kind.
There are some people who think it cool and bohemian. There are some people who really think that driving a pick-up around is quite cheapskate. But driving a pick-up around is actually neither cool nor cheapskate, or both cool and cheapskate.
That’s one thing I miss most about my previous job, driving Xiaobai around.
Monday, November 3, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: VIII - Sometimes I rest my forehead
Sometimes I rest my forehead is a description of a fantasy of self-mutilation. Sometimes visions of stabbing myself in my face occurs to me. No I haven't done it yet. I never imagine the pain. But there is usually blood. I dunno why I think of it.
I suppose, sometimes, I don't know why I do things but I do.
I shall make it my latest thing to ask people why they do things. Why they write they they draw why they sing, why they take photos. WHY. email me if you know why you do things. that are not for the money. unless you wanna go into why you need the money for? that'll just be a mess of knotted snakes having sex.
I dust my keyboard
Packing my room has become my therapy, and writing about it is growing into an obsession.
Yesterday night, I was trying to reach rock bottom of a sadness that I feel that I should deny no longer. I don’t know why I feel sadness for, and that is probably why I have been rejecting its onset, and every few days, I feel miserable, but I wipe it away with joblessness and job hunting. I presume it comes from existential anxiety largely, about what I don’t want to do with my life and what I want to do with my life, but I truly don’t know. Well, to stop these random onsets of unhappiness, I figure that’s what I need to do. Mourn irrationally.
I don’t know why I want to stop these random onsets of unhappiness, but one of the reasons must be because I have visions of myself stabbing my temple with a katana. I envision that the katana will go in cleanly, and come out cleanly. That seems to be the property of katanas, neat and clean, and usually spurting blood, but in my vision there’s no spurting blood. I wish I have no blood sometimes. Anyhow, I suppose I want to stop these random vision onsets because I have lost control over them, and it is torturing me.
Last night, instead of going to bed when I had nothing to do, I was compelled to dust my keyboard. My computer keyboard that is, the one that I am typing with right now. Looking into my stationery supplies, I find some paint brushes and I had to use a pretty small one to get in between the keys. If you dust around in between the keys, I presume you too would find the dust to roll into dust balls that look like laundry lint, but grosser.
I was surprised by the amount of dust beneath the keys of my keyboard. The particularly dirty places where around the backspace and the enter keys. Either I am right, or I was just tired by the time I got to them. Anyways, it was really pretty dirty. If I laid out all the dust balls, I presume I can cover about six computer keys’ at least.
There was a point, when I was scooping out the dust balls, when I asked myself if I knew what I was doing. It must be pretty ridiculous, dusting my keyboard at 3 am in the morning, with a little paint brush. Then, as I was scooping out a little piece of potato chip, I knew that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
Is my keyboard perfectly clean right now? I doubt it. I bet I will at least need to turn it around and give it a few good pats on the back to knock out what’s left. Yet I don’t suppose that I will do that. It will be interesting to pour sand or soil into to the keyboard and some seeds to grow some grass or tiny flowers.
I suppose, sometimes, I don't know why I do things but I do.
I shall make it my latest thing to ask people why they do things. Why they write they they draw why they sing, why they take photos. WHY. email me if you know why you do things. that are not for the money. unless you wanna go into why you need the money for? that'll just be a mess of knotted snakes having sex.
I dust my keyboard
Packing my room has become my therapy, and writing about it is growing into an obsession.
Yesterday night, I was trying to reach rock bottom of a sadness that I feel that I should deny no longer. I don’t know why I feel sadness for, and that is probably why I have been rejecting its onset, and every few days, I feel miserable, but I wipe it away with joblessness and job hunting. I presume it comes from existential anxiety largely, about what I don’t want to do with my life and what I want to do with my life, but I truly don’t know. Well, to stop these random onsets of unhappiness, I figure that’s what I need to do. Mourn irrationally.
I don’t know why I want to stop these random onsets of unhappiness, but one of the reasons must be because I have visions of myself stabbing my temple with a katana. I envision that the katana will go in cleanly, and come out cleanly. That seems to be the property of katanas, neat and clean, and usually spurting blood, but in my vision there’s no spurting blood. I wish I have no blood sometimes. Anyhow, I suppose I want to stop these random vision onsets because I have lost control over them, and it is torturing me.
Last night, instead of going to bed when I had nothing to do, I was compelled to dust my keyboard. My computer keyboard that is, the one that I am typing with right now. Looking into my stationery supplies, I find some paint brushes and I had to use a pretty small one to get in between the keys. If you dust around in between the keys, I presume you too would find the dust to roll into dust balls that look like laundry lint, but grosser.
I was surprised by the amount of dust beneath the keys of my keyboard. The particularly dirty places where around the backspace and the enter keys. Either I am right, or I was just tired by the time I got to them. Anyways, it was really pretty dirty. If I laid out all the dust balls, I presume I can cover about six computer keys’ at least.
There was a point, when I was scooping out the dust balls, when I asked myself if I knew what I was doing. It must be pretty ridiculous, dusting my keyboard at 3 am in the morning, with a little paint brush. Then, as I was scooping out a little piece of potato chip, I knew that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.
Is my keyboard perfectly clean right now? I doubt it. I bet I will at least need to turn it around and give it a few good pats on the back to knock out what’s left. Yet I don’t suppose that I will do that. It will be interesting to pour sand or soil into to the keyboard and some seeds to grow some grass or tiny flowers.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: VII - Central Themes
A central theme to my writing is that "Happiness is in the details." Chanced upon an essay before about how happiness may be found in the details and that idea has been ingrained into my system. I think it can be noticed across many of my pieces that I'd zoom into some details. So that's where I'm stemming from. I probably find the details interesting to imagine. and I probably think that people may find the details interesting to read.
The below essay briefly mentions the essay, but is mostly about what I think about idling. Most of the time when I write something that's meant to be read, I write from the point of view of a persona that don't expresses exactly what I believe in. Even though it may sound very much like me, there are some things that I will write that doesn't express my sincere feelings, so that I can write things for dramatic or comic effect. I used to hate it when people assume that somethings I write on meekfreak reflects my sincere state of mind, because the works are obviously fiction. But i've come to terms with it now. It's okay if people want to attribute that. It's up to them to do whatever they want.
Even the Oct 06's jobless persona expresses things that are not really me. 'cos the essays were written to be read. The persona may be very close to heart, but it's really not what I'm thinking exactly. The Oct 06 essay's "jobless persona" will continually both marvel and kaopei about being jobless - in alternating essays. It's to show the dilemma, really, and to demonstrate the contradiction more coherently. But when I'm really writing about jobless being nice, I'm already thinking about how being jobless sucks, but the persona haven't thought about how being jobless sucks so to continue ranting about the persona's topic of the day. Oh well, this is getting boliao to explain.
Anyway, I think that being jobless is really nice and not nice. It's got 2 sides. It's not easy for everyone to be jobless. To be on extended leave is one thing. To be jobless by choice is another thing. There's tremendous pressure. E.g being jobless, one must be very resilient to many people accusing him of "wasting his life". I think the essay below explains it quite well. If you're thinking of taking a break from work, you should read the below before you act recklessly. It's not as easy as you think it's going to be.
This year, 28 October is a Tuesday.
28 October, 2006 (Saturday):
Lin Yutang and the Cult of Idleness
Reading what I wrote yesterday, I am laden with a sentiment of irony for I am jobless. Maybe it was because I wrote it on a Friday night and what I felt last night closely resembles what I feel every Friday night after work. I wrote with so much advocacy, and puzzling conviction.
Coincidentally, I was packing my room today and I came across a copy of an essay by Garrison Keillor, “In Praise of Laziness” that was published in Time magazine from issue of September 10, 2001. (I purposefully list the date of the issue, to show you that I really did find a copy of this essay, and lead you to believe that I am really packing my room.) In this essay, Keillor talks about not working, and praises not working. He was on a five week vacation.
This essay is particularly important to me, because Keillor taught me one thing with this essay, that is, “Happiness is in the details.”
Reading this essay again, however, I certainly have mixed feelings about it.
Keillor spoke about this doing nothing after a five week vacation, and he professed himself to be an authority on the subject of indolence. I have been jobless for about seven weeks now, and taking away the time I have spent applying or looking for a job, I must have at least five weeks and one day of doing nothing, therefore, must assume higher authority in talking about doing nothing. If you are not persuaded by what I said about money yesterday, and rightly so, because I’m jobless, then at least give me a chance on the topic of idleness.
I profess myself to be a tormented member of the cult of idleness. I believe in the true value of not working and leisure time, and how leisure gives rise to many good and beautiful things of human beings or being itself. Sitting around, not doing anything related to your real occupation, doing things you simply to enjoy, dancing around, taking photos, eating chocolate, etc. I am tormented by my guilt and as a human, I too want to belong and relate with the larger part of rest of the world, who are seemingly jobful.
This entire essay, that I am writing or that I am writing on, is an example of how idlers always have to account or substantiate for why we are not doing anything. It is as if people need to convince others that doing nothing feels good, and people should go for something that makes us feel good. Try it, you’ll feel good too! This obviously points to that there is no convenient tolerance for idleness that we can take for granted. It is like by default, idling is wrong.
The conscience of my beliefs is stolen, and with it, my heart. Finding a good job with high prospects and therefore high acceptance by my jobful peers, will take away my dreams of a good life, and so, I am tormented.
If Bertrand Russell’s opinion that people should work for around four hours of work each, then maybe the world will be a nicer and better place, was taken more seriously, then life should be easier for me. But perhaps Russell was painting a blue print for a utopia and the only way for me to retain my beliefs is to be disgruntled, and do it despite of myself and then everyone else.
Then there is Lin Yutang and how he managed to hide in his philosophies on the importance of living in midst of everything that happened around him. I am especially taken to Lin Yutang, because he is Chinese, and so am I. He advocates the ancient poetic Chinese idling and we share a pride that we, Chinese, thought of it first. Reading him makes me feel that all the Taoists and the ancient poets will be supportive of the wisdom in my decisions. That makes me feel less afraid, but lonelier because I’m wearing jeans and watching tv everyday receiving and sending sms on my mobile phone and not wearing layers of chiffon, going to a waterfall to drink a merry wine, enjoy the company of the moon and tying some messages on a homing pigeons’ leg.
It dawns upon me how wrong it is for me to be persuaded by them blindly and how great they think it is to do nothing. This is because all of them are already great achievers in their field. Keillor, Russell, and Lin Yutang who advocated, in one way or another, idling, were good entertainers or writers and therefore, rich enough to idle. If I had the opportunity to achieve so much, it is okay to not feel anymore tenacity and feel as ‘above it all’ as them about achieving and working. I, on the other hand, am jobless and not already famous. Even Tom Hodgkinson published a few books on idling already.
True, I am not starving or down to my last dollar, but I am not secured either.
Therefore I must insist that I understand at least one thing better than them, and that is the torment of the idling spirit. I already understand the important of idling and loafing, and how meaningful it can be, but songs like the importance of being idle by Oasis and most of the literature makes doing nothing sound too easy. This is quite bad impression management, if you think about it. We should tell the world that it's hard work and hope that they will give us a break.
It is not easy to idle anymore and idling is definitely not the easy alternative to working. To me, it might be the more meaningful alternative to working, but I have a real choice to exercise here. The pressure, the responsibility, the dream of idling, the headaches, the lack of money, the parents, and everything that matters torment my idling spirit. Give me a break, doing nothing is not inherently bad, like doing something. Inaction is the lack of action, and action is the lack of inaction.
I think I am truly struggling with myself, and caught in between the choices that I feel for but dare not exercise. The underachiever, who can achieve more, struggles to underachieve.
I am, at this moment, bitterly jealous and horribly unsatisfied by myself.
The below essay briefly mentions the essay, but is mostly about what I think about idling. Most of the time when I write something that's meant to be read, I write from the point of view of a persona that don't expresses exactly what I believe in. Even though it may sound very much like me, there are some things that I will write that doesn't express my sincere feelings, so that I can write things for dramatic or comic effect. I used to hate it when people assume that somethings I write on meekfreak reflects my sincere state of mind, because the works are obviously fiction. But i've come to terms with it now. It's okay if people want to attribute that. It's up to them to do whatever they want.
Even the Oct 06's jobless persona expresses things that are not really me. 'cos the essays were written to be read. The persona may be very close to heart, but it's really not what I'm thinking exactly. The Oct 06 essay's "jobless persona" will continually both marvel and kaopei about being jobless - in alternating essays. It's to show the dilemma, really, and to demonstrate the contradiction more coherently. But when I'm really writing about jobless being nice, I'm already thinking about how being jobless sucks, but the persona haven't thought about how being jobless sucks so to continue ranting about the persona's topic of the day. Oh well, this is getting boliao to explain.
Anyway, I think that being jobless is really nice and not nice. It's got 2 sides. It's not easy for everyone to be jobless. To be on extended leave is one thing. To be jobless by choice is another thing. There's tremendous pressure. E.g being jobless, one must be very resilient to many people accusing him of "wasting his life". I think the essay below explains it quite well. If you're thinking of taking a break from work, you should read the below before you act recklessly. It's not as easy as you think it's going to be.
This year, 28 October is a Tuesday.
28 October, 2006 (Saturday):
Lin Yutang and the Cult of Idleness
Reading what I wrote yesterday, I am laden with a sentiment of irony for I am jobless. Maybe it was because I wrote it on a Friday night and what I felt last night closely resembles what I feel every Friday night after work. I wrote with so much advocacy, and puzzling conviction.
Coincidentally, I was packing my room today and I came across a copy of an essay by Garrison Keillor, “In Praise of Laziness” that was published in Time magazine from issue of September 10, 2001. (I purposefully list the date of the issue, to show you that I really did find a copy of this essay, and lead you to believe that I am really packing my room.) In this essay, Keillor talks about not working, and praises not working. He was on a five week vacation.
This essay is particularly important to me, because Keillor taught me one thing with this essay, that is, “Happiness is in the details.”
An indolent man awakes in the morning and thinks, “Wow. A shower with shampoo with aloe in it. The orange juice not made from concentrate. Seven-grain toast with butter. Jamaican coffee. One Across: A waiteress (slang),” and he gets all giddy and happy.The idea of happiness being in the details influenced me a lot ever since I read this article. The above passage changed my life forever. It was like I opened a door to a new world of happiness. It is true, the happiness is there, you should try to find it if you haven’t already. I thought this was such an important message that I tried to tell as many people as I could so that they can open the door to this happiness too. In fact, I made photocopies of this essay for my friends to read it, and it was a photocopy of this essay that I found.
Reading this essay again, however, I certainly have mixed feelings about it.
Keillor spoke about this doing nothing after a five week vacation, and he professed himself to be an authority on the subject of indolence. I have been jobless for about seven weeks now, and taking away the time I have spent applying or looking for a job, I must have at least five weeks and one day of doing nothing, therefore, must assume higher authority in talking about doing nothing. If you are not persuaded by what I said about money yesterday, and rightly so, because I’m jobless, then at least give me a chance on the topic of idleness.
I profess myself to be a tormented member of the cult of idleness. I believe in the true value of not working and leisure time, and how leisure gives rise to many good and beautiful things of human beings or being itself. Sitting around, not doing anything related to your real occupation, doing things you simply to enjoy, dancing around, taking photos, eating chocolate, etc. I am tormented by my guilt and as a human, I too want to belong and relate with the larger part of rest of the world, who are seemingly jobful.
This entire essay, that I am writing or that I am writing on, is an example of how idlers always have to account or substantiate for why we are not doing anything. It is as if people need to convince others that doing nothing feels good, and people should go for something that makes us feel good. Try it, you’ll feel good too! This obviously points to that there is no convenient tolerance for idleness that we can take for granted. It is like by default, idling is wrong.
The conscience of my beliefs is stolen, and with it, my heart. Finding a good job with high prospects and therefore high acceptance by my jobful peers, will take away my dreams of a good life, and so, I am tormented.
If Bertrand Russell’s opinion that people should work for around four hours of work each, then maybe the world will be a nicer and better place, was taken more seriously, then life should be easier for me. But perhaps Russell was painting a blue print for a utopia and the only way for me to retain my beliefs is to be disgruntled, and do it despite of myself and then everyone else.
Then there is Lin Yutang and how he managed to hide in his philosophies on the importance of living in midst of everything that happened around him. I am especially taken to Lin Yutang, because he is Chinese, and so am I. He advocates the ancient poetic Chinese idling and we share a pride that we, Chinese, thought of it first. Reading him makes me feel that all the Taoists and the ancient poets will be supportive of the wisdom in my decisions. That makes me feel less afraid, but lonelier because I’m wearing jeans and watching tv everyday receiving and sending sms on my mobile phone and not wearing layers of chiffon, going to a waterfall to drink a merry wine, enjoy the company of the moon and tying some messages on a homing pigeons’ leg.
It dawns upon me how wrong it is for me to be persuaded by them blindly and how great they think it is to do nothing. This is because all of them are already great achievers in their field. Keillor, Russell, and Lin Yutang who advocated, in one way or another, idling, were good entertainers or writers and therefore, rich enough to idle. If I had the opportunity to achieve so much, it is okay to not feel anymore tenacity and feel as ‘above it all’ as them about achieving and working. I, on the other hand, am jobless and not already famous. Even Tom Hodgkinson published a few books on idling already.
True, I am not starving or down to my last dollar, but I am not secured either.
Therefore I must insist that I understand at least one thing better than them, and that is the torment of the idling spirit. I already understand the important of idling and loafing, and how meaningful it can be, but songs like the importance of being idle by Oasis and most of the literature makes doing nothing sound too easy. This is quite bad impression management, if you think about it. We should tell the world that it's hard work and hope that they will give us a break.
It is not easy to idle anymore and idling is definitely not the easy alternative to working. To me, it might be the more meaningful alternative to working, but I have a real choice to exercise here. The pressure, the responsibility, the dream of idling, the headaches, the lack of money, the parents, and everything that matters torment my idling spirit. Give me a break, doing nothing is not inherently bad, like doing something. Inaction is the lack of action, and action is the lack of inaction.
I think I am truly struggling with myself, and caught in between the choices that I feel for but dare not exercise. The underachiever, who can achieve more, struggles to underachieve.
I am, at this moment, bitterly jealous and horribly unsatisfied by myself.
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: VI - ?
Can't think of any link to other pieces. Just put this here for reads. It's about money. I think the second most toughest part about being jobless is the money. The toughest part is the people thinking that not working is like I'm a useless.
Death Matches
There are compensations to being jobless, you know. For the lack of money, I get a lot of leisure time. Lin Yutang, who wrote on the importance of living, educated me not to waste my leisure time, and I must treasure, appreciate it, and use it wisely.
So, yesterday in a bid to maximize my leisure time, as I was packing or cleaning my room, I also watched a Chinese movie on a DVD that my friend lent me. This Chinese movie is about a fighter who fought death matches for fun. And here I was packing my room for fun.
As I watched the characters batter each other with force and skill, a spontaneous questions came to me, and the internal dialogue is as follows:
“Do the fighters get money out of this?”
No, it doesn’t seem like it. (The best fighter becomes bankrupted.)
“Do the fighters get some product sponsorship or endorsement fee if they become famous?”
No, it doesn’t seem like it either. It looks like they are just fighting for fun and glory.
“Why do I think about money so much?”
I don’t know why I think about money so much. Perhaps it is because I don’t have enough of it. Or it is because the modern day fighters are all fighting for money, because nobody really cares enough to give them any glory. Or it doesn’t occur to me at all that fighting can be fun. But noticing that I think about money so much makes me feel a little embarrassed and guilty.
In religious Taoism, there is a money god, or the god of wealth. I am not sure if there are also money gods in other religions. With all imagined prejudices aside, from my professedly amateurish point of view, I think this is telling of at least one thing: the religious Taoist thinks money is governed by gods of fate, and money is like the wind, or good weather, or good marriages (also governed by gods).
The Taoist’s ideas of many things are governed by gods of fate. There are gods who dictates the natural forces, for example, and there are many Earth Gods (土地公), a Goddess of the Sea (媽祖), and a Thunder God (雷公) who also judges filial piety. There are also many other gods, like Confucious (孔子公) who will help with good grades and academic achievements, and Guan Yu (關公) is the God of Justice. These pagan gods are manifestations of the forces of nature, and with the Money God (财神爷) alongside, we can begin to imagine how the Taoists envision money to be as fluid as the weather or as Justice. We pray so that these forces will work with us and not against us, or we pray so that the Gods will be kind to us.
Like I said about putting the prejudices aside, and just looking at this phenomenon as some socio-ideology or something similar, we can notice this and wonder together.
I did not read George Orwell’s “Keep the Aspidistra Flying” where Gordon fought with the money god, but I heard he lost the futile fight, because he thought the money god will take up the fight, from start to the end, he was just fighting with himself. What a waste of time for Gordon, so let us not busy ourselves with this imagined antithesis. The Money God will not fight with us. If you were a god, do you think you will fight with a human? Who do you think you are? Will a God of Justice fight you? Will a Thunder God fight you? He will either punish you or reward you, and you better take it easy.
Back to why I think about money so much. I think money is the new denomination of modern society. In order to understand across cultures or another person money is universal. Whether one denies himself of the influence of money on his decisions or lets money dictates all his decisions, one has the option to use money or money’s expression to explain his actions.
Q: Why did you buy that?
A: Because it was cheap.
Q: Why did you buy that?
A: Because I am rich.
Q: Why do you ignore him?
A: Because he is poor.
Q: Why do you hate him?
A: Because he is rich.
This is the new world that is driven by forces of money, and instead of denying it, I must recognize it. Only with recognizing it, can I recognize its limitations. Like with the death match fighters, I can recognize that they might be fighting for glory or dignity. There are also things like integrity and fear for life, or dreams, or art, or food, to fight for. When we recognize the power of money and accept its influence and how you can use two dollars to eat another ice-cream or buy another old man a cheeseburger, then can we tai-chi the force of money to affect change. Then can we harness it with like how we harnessed the wind to move the sailboats. The masters or heroes of this fashion are the Gates couple and Sir Shaw Run Run.
If we make money the embodiment of greed and all things bad, we are forcing ourselves to go against money. It becomes a death match of good and evil within each one of us. This is the reason why I will feel the sense of guilt when I think I think too much about money.
When there is a death match, one must win, and one must lose, and it becomes a struggle to be good and poor or rich and evil. This is an unnatural antithesis! This is unnecessary! Maybe I want to be good and rich! Maybe you want to be good and rich!
My brothers and sisters of the human race let us not fight the futile fight against the Money Gods. It is unnatural to fight. Let us not impeach ourselves against ourselves, but accept the humanity in money and end the struggle.
Death Matches
There are compensations to being jobless, you know. For the lack of money, I get a lot of leisure time. Lin Yutang, who wrote on the importance of living, educated me not to waste my leisure time, and I must treasure, appreciate it, and use it wisely.
So, yesterday in a bid to maximize my leisure time, as I was packing or cleaning my room, I also watched a Chinese movie on a DVD that my friend lent me. This Chinese movie is about a fighter who fought death matches for fun. And here I was packing my room for fun.
As I watched the characters batter each other with force and skill, a spontaneous questions came to me, and the internal dialogue is as follows:
“Do the fighters get money out of this?”
No, it doesn’t seem like it. (The best fighter becomes bankrupted.)
“Do the fighters get some product sponsorship or endorsement fee if they become famous?”
No, it doesn’t seem like it either. It looks like they are just fighting for fun and glory.
“Why do I think about money so much?”
I don’t know why I think about money so much. Perhaps it is because I don’t have enough of it. Or it is because the modern day fighters are all fighting for money, because nobody really cares enough to give them any glory. Or it doesn’t occur to me at all that fighting can be fun. But noticing that I think about money so much makes me feel a little embarrassed and guilty.
In religious Taoism, there is a money god, or the god of wealth. I am not sure if there are also money gods in other religions. With all imagined prejudices aside, from my professedly amateurish point of view, I think this is telling of at least one thing: the religious Taoist thinks money is governed by gods of fate, and money is like the wind, or good weather, or good marriages (also governed by gods).
The Taoist’s ideas of many things are governed by gods of fate. There are gods who dictates the natural forces, for example, and there are many Earth Gods (土地公), a Goddess of the Sea (媽祖), and a Thunder God (雷公) who also judges filial piety. There are also many other gods, like Confucious (孔子公) who will help with good grades and academic achievements, and Guan Yu (關公) is the God of Justice. These pagan gods are manifestations of the forces of nature, and with the Money God (财神爷) alongside, we can begin to imagine how the Taoists envision money to be as fluid as the weather or as Justice. We pray so that these forces will work with us and not against us, or we pray so that the Gods will be kind to us.
Like I said about putting the prejudices aside, and just looking at this phenomenon as some socio-ideology or something similar, we can notice this and wonder together.
I did not read George Orwell’s “Keep the Aspidistra Flying” where Gordon fought with the money god, but I heard he lost the futile fight, because he thought the money god will take up the fight, from start to the end, he was just fighting with himself. What a waste of time for Gordon, so let us not busy ourselves with this imagined antithesis. The Money God will not fight with us. If you were a god, do you think you will fight with a human? Who do you think you are? Will a God of Justice fight you? Will a Thunder God fight you? He will either punish you or reward you, and you better take it easy.
Back to why I think about money so much. I think money is the new denomination of modern society. In order to understand across cultures or another person money is universal. Whether one denies himself of the influence of money on his decisions or lets money dictates all his decisions, one has the option to use money or money’s expression to explain his actions.
Q: Why did you buy that?
A: Because it was cheap.
Q: Why did you buy that?
A: Because I am rich.
Q: Why do you ignore him?
A: Because he is poor.
Q: Why do you hate him?
A: Because he is rich.
This is the new world that is driven by forces of money, and instead of denying it, I must recognize it. Only with recognizing it, can I recognize its limitations. Like with the death match fighters, I can recognize that they might be fighting for glory or dignity. There are also things like integrity and fear for life, or dreams, or art, or food, to fight for. When we recognize the power of money and accept its influence and how you can use two dollars to eat another ice-cream or buy another old man a cheeseburger, then can we tai-chi the force of money to affect change. Then can we harness it with like how we harnessed the wind to move the sailboats. The masters or heroes of this fashion are the Gates couple and Sir Shaw Run Run.
If we make money the embodiment of greed and all things bad, we are forcing ourselves to go against money. It becomes a death match of good and evil within each one of us. This is the reason why I will feel the sense of guilt when I think I think too much about money.
When there is a death match, one must win, and one must lose, and it becomes a struggle to be good and poor or rich and evil. This is an unnatural antithesis! This is unnecessary! Maybe I want to be good and rich! Maybe you want to be good and rich!
My brothers and sisters of the human race let us not fight the futile fight against the Money Gods. It is unnatural to fight. Let us not impeach ourselves against ourselves, but accept the humanity in money and end the struggle.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: V - 面线、红鸡蛋
面线、红鸡蛋 is just a liner that is so short and that I shouldn't link to it, but I'm writing low on things from chaMOTOM that I can link with the Oct 06 essays.
It's the way chinese cook mee sua and 2 boiled eggs (dyed red) on birthdays. And that it's a very touching thing to have.
Excerpts from 27 October 2006 (Friday): Happy Birthday
It was my twenty-fourth birthday a few days ago. A friend on chat messaged me on the eve this is our conversation:
He: Happy birthday.
Me: Thanks.
He: Are you going to celebrate?
Me: I don’t know.
He: What is the point anyway?
Me: Well… it is an excuse to spend money without guilt. (Now that I’m jobless, I’ve been painfully thrifty.) I can go get drunk!
He: What is the point of getting drunk anyway?
Me: I don’t know.
Now, the above exchange makes me look like an idiot. That’s how the cynic makes everyone else feels unless you agree, or pretend to agree. Damn them and their fucking rhetorical questions. If the point in celebrating or getting drunk is of any relevance, then tell me what is the point of wishing me a happy fucking birthday?
***
The funny thing is that about half a year ago, I resolved to a friend that I will be jobless by my birthday, and I fulfilled that. Half a year later, on my birthday, I am jobless and it is meaningless as well.
It's the way chinese cook mee sua and 2 boiled eggs (dyed red) on birthdays. And that it's a very touching thing to have.
Excerpts from 27 October 2006 (Friday): Happy Birthday
It was my twenty-fourth birthday a few days ago. A friend on chat messaged me on the eve this is our conversation:
He: Happy birthday.
Me: Thanks.
He: Are you going to celebrate?
Me: I don’t know.
He: What is the point anyway?
Me: Well… it is an excuse to spend money without guilt. (Now that I’m jobless, I’ve been painfully thrifty.) I can go get drunk!
He: What is the point of getting drunk anyway?
Me: I don’t know.
Now, the above exchange makes me look like an idiot. That’s how the cynic makes everyone else feels unless you agree, or pretend to agree. Damn them and their fucking rhetorical questions. If the point in celebrating or getting drunk is of any relevance, then tell me what is the point of wishing me a happy fucking birthday?
***
The funny thing is that about half a year ago, I resolved to a friend that I will be jobless by my birthday, and I fulfilled that. Half a year later, on my birthday, I am jobless and it is meaningless as well.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: IV - Environmentalism
Environmentalism is based on an idea that will dawn upon me once in a while. That is, all the development that we have, the computers and internet and pollution, is actually an extension of nature.
There's too much talk that it's machine vs nature. I feel sorry and sad for the trees and the trees that die. One day, in the Oct 06 Essays, I described how I decide that we're not against the environment, we're part of it. I still feel sorry for the dying forests. It's just another way of looking at it, I suppose.
Wrote Environmentalism when was walking in Orchard Road and heard the construction sounds. I thought that they sounded like screaming rocks. If rocks could scream of pain, surely it'll sound like the sound they make when they are cut with diamond blade. Screaming rocks or iron or whatever. If anything inanimate could scream of pain, it'll be the sound they make when diamond blades cut through them. Or the sound they make when they're burnt with a welding fire.
Not the first time I wrote about construction sounds. It's also mentioned in the Quality of life.
Nature and a Red Plastic Bag Abomination
At this point it is important I feel, to share with you a new point of view that dawned upon me only just, and I don’t know why it occurred to me so late.
One jobless day, a few weeks ago, I went down town to the busiest of the business district to watch the crowds rush around. I sat there in the middle of buildings and watched the shiny tall buildings and the giant television screen blasting advertisements. I watched them and listened to the noise in the wind, and heard faint rumblings of a road construction somewhere not too far from me.
After a while, I walked to the Singapore River to watch the ebbing of the water flowing from the sea or to the sea, I do not know. The ripples and the sunset soothed me, and I was calm enough to wonder about the dead leaves and red plastic bag floating on the water.
A grey tabby cat came to stand beside me.
On another jobless day, sometime two weeks ago, I was watching a documentary on li jiang, china. There is an ancient town in li jiang, where people still reside. This ancient town is built upon the network of the li jiang river that runs through the place. The roads are curved and bent to the river, and not parallel grids. The people respect the river, and drink from it in the morning and wash in it in the afternoon. This li jiang ancient town has a river, and this li jiang river has an ancient town.
As I was watching tv, maybe I fell asleep or for some other reason, my consciousness went out for a while. When it came back, I realized that li jiang old town was the desired piece left of my jigsaw puzzle of understanding what is going on.
Somehow, somewhere, at some point in time, we human beings came to think that technology is at odds with nature. Some person, full of awe or jealousy, marveled at the industrialist opposing the nature, or vice versa. Now by that theory, makes me feel that living in a plastered room with clothes hanging from the back of my door and typing into a computer I don’t understand how it works about typing, makes me feel unnatural.
Look at lijiang old town, and how she came by across the so many years from a farmer village or something. Look at me now, living in my town, and how I came about from a town like lijiang old town.
The thing is, I think everything is a actually natural progression of nature. We keep thinking that humans are violators of nature, like a superpower who exist sub naturally, like an abomination, but truly, the computer we type into, the ceaseless advertisement from the super tv screen, the literature that we read, are just natural progressions. Just as natural as the viruses that are sent to disrupt our physical body, and the computer viruses that are sent to disrupt our piece of mind, industrialization and commercialization are sent to disrupt the old nature.
The ebbing of the human crowds is as natural as the ebbing of the water in the river. The giant advertisements are like the sunset on the river. The road constructions are as natural as the wind that carries their voices. The fallen leaves in the river are, as the fallen red plastic bag, natural.
It is often awkward to realize though, after the long time of thinking about how man made we are. Yet, the truly, we are what happened and are happening. Maybe the ozone layer will mend itself, or humans will extinct ourselves before potable water runs out. Whatever way the natural progression of things will take us, we must humbly execute and stop thinking that we are above nature’s fate and recognize the greater forces. With recognition of the greater forces, we can once again reconcile with the world we live in, and love everything we love without feeling guilty.
There's too much talk that it's machine vs nature. I feel sorry and sad for the trees and the trees that die. One day, in the Oct 06 Essays, I described how I decide that we're not against the environment, we're part of it. I still feel sorry for the dying forests. It's just another way of looking at it, I suppose.
Wrote Environmentalism when was walking in Orchard Road and heard the construction sounds. I thought that they sounded like screaming rocks. If rocks could scream of pain, surely it'll sound like the sound they make when they are cut with diamond blade. Screaming rocks or iron or whatever. If anything inanimate could scream of pain, it'll be the sound they make when diamond blades cut through them. Or the sound they make when they're burnt with a welding fire.
Not the first time I wrote about construction sounds. It's also mentioned in the Quality of life.
Nature and a Red Plastic Bag Abomination
At this point it is important I feel, to share with you a new point of view that dawned upon me only just, and I don’t know why it occurred to me so late.
One jobless day, a few weeks ago, I went down town to the busiest of the business district to watch the crowds rush around. I sat there in the middle of buildings and watched the shiny tall buildings and the giant television screen blasting advertisements. I watched them and listened to the noise in the wind, and heard faint rumblings of a road construction somewhere not too far from me.
After a while, I walked to the Singapore River to watch the ebbing of the water flowing from the sea or to the sea, I do not know. The ripples and the sunset soothed me, and I was calm enough to wonder about the dead leaves and red plastic bag floating on the water.
A grey tabby cat came to stand beside me.
On another jobless day, sometime two weeks ago, I was watching a documentary on li jiang, china. There is an ancient town in li jiang, where people still reside. This ancient town is built upon the network of the li jiang river that runs through the place. The roads are curved and bent to the river, and not parallel grids. The people respect the river, and drink from it in the morning and wash in it in the afternoon. This li jiang ancient town has a river, and this li jiang river has an ancient town.
As I was watching tv, maybe I fell asleep or for some other reason, my consciousness went out for a while. When it came back, I realized that li jiang old town was the desired piece left of my jigsaw puzzle of understanding what is going on.
Somehow, somewhere, at some point in time, we human beings came to think that technology is at odds with nature. Some person, full of awe or jealousy, marveled at the industrialist opposing the nature, or vice versa. Now by that theory, makes me feel that living in a plastered room with clothes hanging from the back of my door and typing into a computer I don’t understand how it works about typing, makes me feel unnatural.
Look at lijiang old town, and how she came by across the so many years from a farmer village or something. Look at me now, living in my town, and how I came about from a town like lijiang old town.
The thing is, I think everything is a actually natural progression of nature. We keep thinking that humans are violators of nature, like a superpower who exist sub naturally, like an abomination, but truly, the computer we type into, the ceaseless advertisement from the super tv screen, the literature that we read, are just natural progressions. Just as natural as the viruses that are sent to disrupt our physical body, and the computer viruses that are sent to disrupt our piece of mind, industrialization and commercialization are sent to disrupt the old nature.
The ebbing of the human crowds is as natural as the ebbing of the water in the river. The giant advertisements are like the sunset on the river. The road constructions are as natural as the wind that carries their voices. The fallen leaves in the river are, as the fallen red plastic bag, natural.
It is often awkward to realize though, after the long time of thinking about how man made we are. Yet, the truly, we are what happened and are happening. Maybe the ozone layer will mend itself, or humans will extinct ourselves before potable water runs out. Whatever way the natural progression of things will take us, we must humbly execute and stop thinking that we are above nature’s fate and recognize the greater forces. With recognition of the greater forces, we can once again reconcile with the world we live in, and love everything we love without feeling guilty.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: II - The kite flyer
The Kite Flyer... expresses sentiments from when I went kite flying when I was picking up a new hobby thing, when I was more recently jobless. The photo was taken in Hang Zhou, on a bridge on the West Lake, around evening. Friend and I were on our graduation trip. We sat on a curb to watch the old man fly kite for a long time.
Then we were inspired by him, and his reel that had ball-bearings and was cool. So, we went to buy too.
Below, part II of the oct 06. The connections with the kite flyer are:
1) both written during periods of joblessness
2) about new pastimes
3) one of the kites I was recently flying is one of the kites I found in the description below (in red).
Maybe I should have bought more things on my graduation trip. Or maybe I should go for another one. *shrugs*
Germany’s Gateway to the World
About one or two weeks ago when I thought that I was about to be offered a job, I panicked and thought about the ideal time to start work. That was when I stopped forcing myself to send out application letters to stall the dreaded interviews. I think I did not yet come to terms with the not working and the start working.
You know how after a serious romantic relationship, you cannot immediately plunge into another serious romantic relationship? That is exactly how I feel. Yet another part of me, for fear of joblessness, kept on pushing me to go apply for more jobs. Somehow I was telling me that I should at least find a fling, a temporary job or something part-time. The other parts of me just want to stay home and watch bad tv.
So when I thought about the ideal time to start work, I did not have an answer. My friend told me that I should be expected to take up the job immediately, starting work as soon as possible.
“Really? I can’t say I want to start two weeks later?”
“What do you think? You think you can just say, sorry I need to clean my room first, give me a few weeks, thanks.”
Regardless of whether I had wanted two weeks, or if they would have given me if I was offered the job, I realized that I really want to clean my room.
Besides, I needed a new pastime. At least that’s what a lot of people have been telling me.
“Ju-Lyn, you know what, you should go get a hobby.”
Maybe I say I’m bored too often, though I say I’m bored because I am. But anyway, I thought, so many people can’t be wrong. So I decided to look for a hobby. I can’t swim, so sea sports are out, and dancing doesn’t interest me. I’m jobless so I can’t go for anything expensive, and I don’t feel creative about thinking up what new hobbies I could try out. So, one boring evening, I decided to pack my room. For the people who recall having ventured into my hostel room, you can try to imagine how bad my home room is. I’ve lived in here for 12 years and never had to move out of it. I was such a sentimental you know, pretty much everything that doesn’t rot, I keep. I even kept sweet wrappers. I seemed to like to stuff things out of sight and forget about them.
Anyway for the past few days now, I have been packing my room. It’s strangely therapeutic. I think I am beginning to understand now why some people want to do it every week or so.
When I was packing my room today, I decided to do something drastic. You see, for the 12 years that I’ve moved in, I did not quite ever try to remove the things underneath my bed. You see, when I moved in when I was around 12 years old, I had a lot of things, amongst which, an unframed completely assembled jigsaw puzzle of Hamburg Harbor, Germany. It measures somewhat 50cm by 75 cm. It’s the 1000 pieces kind, but one piece got lost on moving day. For the past 12 years, the 999 pieces of Hamburg Harbor rested underneath my new bed. I always knew it was there. It always knew I was sleeping above it. For the past 12 years.
So, like I said, I had decided to do something drastic, I decided to clear out the space under my bed.
Before I got to the jigsaw puzzles, which was close to the wall, and almost furthest away from me, I fished out:
1 box of book marks,
2 kites,
2 brand new babies’ milk bottles,
1 florescent green golf ball,
1 bag of old textbooks (including my Secondary 1 Science textbook),
1 pair of terracotta figurines with dried moss bits,
2 bricks of white clay,
And many other things.
However, the moment I felt like Steve Zissou was when I pulled out all 999 pieces of Germany’s gateway to the world. I stared at the dust patterns that collected over the years. The dust accumulated dust. I dare not breathe... for fear of the dust mistaking my breathing as a challenge to attack me. I beheld it, like Zissou would his son, Ned Plimpton.
Then I took 1 hour to coax to break up the 999 neatly in 6 stabs and laid them on paper and kept them away in a box.
I proceeded to remove the piece of paper Hamburg was on, and discovered that the moment I felt most like Steve Zissou was when I found a Mickey Mouse almost completed jigsaw puzzle underneath Hamburg. I had completely forgotten about it. Although upon seeing it, I recognized it. It is 700 pieces of Mickey Mouse, forgotten for the past 12 years. I beheld it with awe, and made a strange face, like how you would the crayon pony fish.
Then I took five minutes to break it up hastily and stuffed it into another box. At the end of that, with all the monsters underneath the bed either packed in boxes, or strewn around, or in the trash bag, I mopped as much of the floor that I could with a rag and my brother’s golf club.
Finally, I marvelled at how for the first time in 12 years there is nothing underneath my bed.
Then we were inspired by him, and his reel that had ball-bearings and was cool. So, we went to buy too.
Below, part II of the oct 06. The connections with the kite flyer are:
1) both written during periods of joblessness
2) about new pastimes
3) one of the kites I was recently flying is one of the kites I found in the description below (in red).
Maybe I should have bought more things on my graduation trip. Or maybe I should go for another one. *shrugs*
Germany’s Gateway to the World
About one or two weeks ago when I thought that I was about to be offered a job, I panicked and thought about the ideal time to start work. That was when I stopped forcing myself to send out application letters to stall the dreaded interviews. I think I did not yet come to terms with the not working and the start working.
You know how after a serious romantic relationship, you cannot immediately plunge into another serious romantic relationship? That is exactly how I feel. Yet another part of me, for fear of joblessness, kept on pushing me to go apply for more jobs. Somehow I was telling me that I should at least find a fling, a temporary job or something part-time. The other parts of me just want to stay home and watch bad tv.
So when I thought about the ideal time to start work, I did not have an answer. My friend told me that I should be expected to take up the job immediately, starting work as soon as possible.
“Really? I can’t say I want to start two weeks later?”
“What do you think? You think you can just say, sorry I need to clean my room first, give me a few weeks, thanks.”
Regardless of whether I had wanted two weeks, or if they would have given me if I was offered the job, I realized that I really want to clean my room.
Besides, I needed a new pastime. At least that’s what a lot of people have been telling me.
“Ju-Lyn, you know what, you should go get a hobby.”
Maybe I say I’m bored too often, though I say I’m bored because I am. But anyway, I thought, so many people can’t be wrong. So I decided to look for a hobby. I can’t swim, so sea sports are out, and dancing doesn’t interest me. I’m jobless so I can’t go for anything expensive, and I don’t feel creative about thinking up what new hobbies I could try out. So, one boring evening, I decided to pack my room. For the people who recall having ventured into my hostel room, you can try to imagine how bad my home room is. I’ve lived in here for 12 years and never had to move out of it. I was such a sentimental you know, pretty much everything that doesn’t rot, I keep. I even kept sweet wrappers. I seemed to like to stuff things out of sight and forget about them.
Anyway for the past few days now, I have been packing my room. It’s strangely therapeutic. I think I am beginning to understand now why some people want to do it every week or so.
When I was packing my room today, I decided to do something drastic. You see, for the 12 years that I’ve moved in, I did not quite ever try to remove the things underneath my bed. You see, when I moved in when I was around 12 years old, I had a lot of things, amongst which, an unframed completely assembled jigsaw puzzle of Hamburg Harbor, Germany. It measures somewhat 50cm by 75 cm. It’s the 1000 pieces kind, but one piece got lost on moving day. For the past 12 years, the 999 pieces of Hamburg Harbor rested underneath my new bed. I always knew it was there. It always knew I was sleeping above it. For the past 12 years.
So, like I said, I had decided to do something drastic, I decided to clear out the space under my bed.
Before I got to the jigsaw puzzles, which was close to the wall, and almost furthest away from me, I fished out:
1 box of book marks,
2 kites,
2 brand new babies’ milk bottles,
1 florescent green golf ball,
1 bag of old textbooks (including my Secondary 1 Science textbook),
1 pair of terracotta figurines with dried moss bits,
2 bricks of white clay,
And many other things.
However, the moment I felt like Steve Zissou was when I pulled out all 999 pieces of Germany’s gateway to the world. I stared at the dust patterns that collected over the years. The dust accumulated dust. I dare not breathe... for fear of the dust mistaking my breathing as a challenge to attack me. I beheld it, like Zissou would his son, Ned Plimpton.
Then I took 1 hour to coax to break up the 999 neatly in 6 stabs and laid them on paper and kept them away in a box.
I proceeded to remove the piece of paper Hamburg was on, and discovered that the moment I felt most like Steve Zissou was when I found a Mickey Mouse almost completed jigsaw puzzle underneath Hamburg. I had completely forgotten about it. Although upon seeing it, I recognized it. It is 700 pieces of Mickey Mouse, forgotten for the past 12 years. I beheld it with awe, and made a strange face, like how you would the crayon pony fish.
Then I took five minutes to break it up hastily and stuffed it into another box. At the end of that, with all the monsters underneath the bed either packed in boxes, or strewn around, or in the trash bag, I mopped as much of the floor that I could with a rag and my brother’s golf club.
Finally, I marvelled at how for the first time in 12 years there is nothing underneath my bed.
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Oct 06 Essays: I - The secret of HK
...The secret of HK... is truly based on a friend who is an example of many others. It is centred around the theme of working and existential crisis.
There is a perpetual dilemma with working and not working. On one hand of the dilemma is the idea that I don't feel like working because of the inherent lack of relevance work is to my interest and I should just do what I want because life is short. On the other hand, I feel compelled to work because there's social pressure. This second hand is explored in the extract from the first Oct 06 essays. Here the narrator/perspective is desperately making sense of being jobless. It is as desperate as how he describes the jobfuls are desperate to make sense of working.
26 October 2006 (Thursday):
I am Jobless (Extract)
These are the few reasons why people who have a job are deemed superior to those who are jobless :
1) I work therefore I am. – Identity affirmation
Think about the average grown-ups’ “getting to know you” conversations:
“Hi, I’m Ju-Lyn. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi, I’m Sisyphus. Nice to meet you too.”
(Awkward silence follows if there are no cards exchanged in which case both parties will read the card and are taken aback by the size of the organization the other is working at or the position of employment, or both. Since I am jobless, I don’t have a card, so I can only receive a card from Sisyphus, Ex-King/Founder of Ephyra, Rock ‘n Roller.)
“Here is my card,” Sisyphus smiles.
“Thank you. I must apologize, I don’t have a card.”
“Oh so what do you do?”
“I am jobless.” I hurry justify why I'm jobless, or change the topic, otherwise the awkwardness would crush the both of us. Asking about Ephyra which I cannot pronounce will only undermine my position further. “So Wow, you are a Rock ‘n Roller?”
Why do we pretend that the word “Manager” or “Assistant Executive” give us any insight to that person’s life. What the hell man? I don’t know if it is just me, but look, these two terms help me understand somebody much less than “Married” or “Single”.
2) Work is cool! - Barrier of self-preservation and retention.
The workers subconsciously think, “Look if I have to work, might as well establish some snootiness about it. If I am spending almost all of my waking hours being a “support officer” I might as well be snooty about it right? If I don’t be snooty about it, I might realize that I don’t want to work and don’t like it at all if I quit then I will have no identity I won’t know who I am so, so, so let me over-compensate, I will be snooty! Let me gang up with all the snoots in my department, and then organization, and then the rest of the working world. I will work because it is cool!”
The workers consciously think, “Better complain about work because that will humanize me and let people think that I’m not snooty so that they will gang up with me to bully the jobless. So that more and more people work and less and less people will remind us how good it is to not work and enjoy life I better get myself more liabilities lest in moments of weakness I will quit and enjoy life and regret when life will still suck I am going to buy a car now!”
I wish I did not care about being jobless, but I do because I am afraid to take the road less travelled. But also, more of a reason is because I feel so left out. I want to work and be thought of as cool too.
3) Those who work are usually Richer than those who don’t. – Materialistically, and Spiritually.
My neighbour owns two red Ferraris and some other red sports convertible automobiles that I don’t identify but I know that it belongs to the same family because they have the same license plate number.
The truth is I know I don’t want to own so many cars ever in my life. Yet, like a faulty neuron embedded into my mind, I am envious.
Suddenly, the rich are like the new idols. Like how Ozzy Obsourne or Kurt Cobain, or Thomas Hardy or Superman are idolized. Now the rich like Donald Trump, or Warren Buffet are like bloody superheroes. It is like we want to be as rich as them.
If you have a job, you are like closer to our idols than me, the jobless. If you are closer to our idols than me, you must be better than me, the jobless.
--
Now, with these reasons set in place, how can I not be unsatisfied?
I have no identity. I am not cool. I am inferior to you, the jobful.
Existential crisis, derived from Existentialism, is the psychologic panic and discomfort experienced when a human confronts questions of existence. This phenomenon, presumably, is common to technologically-advanced cultures, wherein physical survival is not life's priority. (excerpt from here.)This theme is central to many of my other writings, for example, also Mr Monday. The Oct 06 essays explores the theme too. I was jobless then.
There is a perpetual dilemma with working and not working. On one hand of the dilemma is the idea that I don't feel like working because of the inherent lack of relevance work is to my interest and I should just do what I want because life is short. On the other hand, I feel compelled to work because there's social pressure. This second hand is explored in the extract from the first Oct 06 essays. Here the narrator/perspective is desperately making sense of being jobless. It is as desperate as how he describes the jobfuls are desperate to make sense of working.
26 October 2006 (Thursday):
I am Jobless (Extract)
These are the few reasons why people who have a job are deemed superior to those who are jobless :
1) I work therefore I am. – Identity affirmation
Think about the average grown-ups’ “getting to know you” conversations:
“Hi, I’m Ju-Lyn. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi, I’m Sisyphus. Nice to meet you too.”
(Awkward silence follows if there are no cards exchanged in which case both parties will read the card and are taken aback by the size of the organization the other is working at or the position of employment, or both. Since I am jobless, I don’t have a card, so I can only receive a card from Sisyphus, Ex-King/Founder of Ephyra, Rock ‘n Roller.)
“Here is my card,” Sisyphus smiles.
“Thank you. I must apologize, I don’t have a card.”
“Oh so what do you do?”
“I am jobless.” I hurry justify why I'm jobless, or change the topic, otherwise the awkwardness would crush the both of us. Asking about Ephyra which I cannot pronounce will only undermine my position further. “So Wow, you are a Rock ‘n Roller?”
Why do we pretend that the word “Manager” or “Assistant Executive” give us any insight to that person’s life. What the hell man? I don’t know if it is just me, but look, these two terms help me understand somebody much less than “Married” or “Single”.
2) Work is cool! - Barrier of self-preservation and retention.
The workers subconsciously think, “Look if I have to work, might as well establish some snootiness about it. If I am spending almost all of my waking hours being a “support officer” I might as well be snooty about it right? If I don’t be snooty about it, I might realize that I don’t want to work and don’t like it at all if I quit then I will have no identity I won’t know who I am so, so, so let me over-compensate, I will be snooty! Let me gang up with all the snoots in my department, and then organization, and then the rest of the working world. I will work because it is cool!”
The workers consciously think, “Better complain about work because that will humanize me and let people think that I’m not snooty so that they will gang up with me to bully the jobless. So that more and more people work and less and less people will remind us how good it is to not work and enjoy life I better get myself more liabilities lest in moments of weakness I will quit and enjoy life and regret when life will still suck I am going to buy a car now!”
I wish I did not care about being jobless, but I do because I am afraid to take the road less travelled. But also, more of a reason is because I feel so left out. I want to work and be thought of as cool too.
3) Those who work are usually Richer than those who don’t. – Materialistically, and Spiritually.
My neighbour owns two red Ferraris and some other red sports convertible automobiles that I don’t identify but I know that it belongs to the same family because they have the same license plate number.
The truth is I know I don’t want to own so many cars ever in my life. Yet, like a faulty neuron embedded into my mind, I am envious.
Suddenly, the rich are like the new idols. Like how Ozzy Obsourne or Kurt Cobain, or Thomas Hardy or Superman are idolized. Now the rich like Donald Trump, or Warren Buffet are like bloody superheroes. It is like we want to be as rich as them.
If you have a job, you are like closer to our idols than me, the jobless. If you are closer to our idols than me, you must be better than me, the jobless.
--
Now, with these reasons set in place, how can I not be unsatisfied?
I have no identity. I am not cool. I am inferior to you, the jobful.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The jobless 26 Oct 2006 arc & part III - Silverfish graveyard
Silverfish graveyard was written as part of a very large arc which I just found. It's a series of essays written from 26 Oct 2006. Just counted them and there are 10 essays in the 20 page document, some essays have sub sections. Silverfish graveyard is essay 3.
For the better informed, I am currently jobless again. Again, because I was also jobless when I wrote the 26 Oct 2006 arc. The essays had themes about joblessness and packing my room. Generally, they very much expressed confusion about whether working was important or not important, and whether I want to work or not. So, reading through the essays, I found that they were still very relevant to me. Over the next posts, I shall share them in parts with you, so you get a laugh or two; and mostly because some of the themes expressed were eventually distilled and embedded in my other pieces, which I shall try to draw the relevance; and partly because they're already written and they're readable. I write quite a bit that I didn't post up, though you'll find that they were written such that they were meant to be read.
Other than that, silverfish graveyard is largely autobiographical, or at least to a large degree more autobiographical than my other pieces. I really did find damn lots of dead silverfish in a corner of the room. They were grey flakes like dust specs. but they had feelers and wtf. The essay was structured loosely based on the scientific method.
For the better informed, I am currently jobless again. Again, because I was also jobless when I wrote the 26 Oct 2006 arc. The essays had themes about joblessness and packing my room. Generally, they very much expressed confusion about whether working was important or not important, and whether I want to work or not. So, reading through the essays, I found that they were still very relevant to me. Over the next posts, I shall share them in parts with you, so you get a laugh or two; and mostly because some of the themes expressed were eventually distilled and embedded in my other pieces, which I shall try to draw the relevance; and partly because they're already written and they're readable. I write quite a bit that I didn't post up, though you'll find that they were written such that they were meant to be read.
Other than that, silverfish graveyard is largely autobiographical, or at least to a large degree more autobiographical than my other pieces. I really did find damn lots of dead silverfish in a corner of the room. They were grey flakes like dust specs. but they had feelers and wtf. The essay was structured loosely based on the scientific method.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Edward Gorey - Neville
Neville is based on a character in Edward Gorey's The Gashlycrumb Tinies.
"N is for Neville who died of Ennui."
I like the word ennui because it's the closest thing ever to the word "sian" in hokkien. And I like the word "sian" because I am.
"N is for Neville who died of Ennui."
I like the word ennui because it's the closest thing ever to the word "sian" in hokkien. And I like the word "sian" because I am.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
False choice - the cupboard said to me
The cupboard said to me is about how closure is often overrated. That the beauty of things can be in the mystery that is in the unknown. The intention was to illustrate the following...
If you chose not to read on, you would have the space to imagine what the cupboard said to me, and completed the story for yourself. It which should be unlikely, but let me know if you did, it's so interesting if anyone did not read on.
If you read on, then perhaps there is the initial anticlimax and someone had told me before that it made feel like it was a waste of his time. Indeed. I am sorry to waste his time reading my story but it illustrates my point well and I am satisfied that it can instigate that feeling of disappointment.
"The face of a lover is an unknown, precisely because it is invested with so much of oneself. It is a mystery, containing, like all mysteries, the possibility of torment. "
- James Arthur Baldwin (writer).
想你 11 touches on the same theme.
If I remember correctly, the usage of the talking cupboard comes slightly from the "skeleton in the cupboard" thing and how kids are fearful of the monsters in their closet. The bart simpson is symbolic of things that are naughty and mischievous. Which alludes to the riddle that this piece plays on the reader.
If you chose not to read on, you would have the space to imagine what the cupboard said to me, and completed the story for yourself. It which should be unlikely, but let me know if you did, it's so interesting if anyone did not read on.
If you read on, then perhaps there is the initial anticlimax and someone had told me before that it made feel like it was a waste of his time. Indeed. I am sorry to waste his time reading my story but it illustrates my point well and I am satisfied that it can instigate that feeling of disappointment.
"The face of a lover is an unknown, precisely because it is invested with so much of oneself. It is a mystery, containing, like all mysteries, the possibility of torment. "
- James Arthur Baldwin (writer).
想你 11 touches on the same theme.
If I remember correctly, the usage of the talking cupboard comes slightly from the "skeleton in the cupboard" thing and how kids are fearful of the monsters in their closet. The bart simpson is symbolic of things that are naughty and mischievous. Which alludes to the riddle that this piece plays on the reader.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)