Summer Agenda

It's already mid May but the weather's strangely cold and damp. I sometimes wake up to cold chills early in the morning. Thought it's summer???

22 years, looking back and projecting forward.

I tried to think what's the last time I tried really hard for anything. I worked really hard during the first two years in Singapore but I didn't know exactly why I worked that hard. It's more because of peer pressure and lack of better distractions that powered a studying machine to short term success I guess. I wasn't particularly smart to start with, although my results spoke otherwise and underservingly, I gave my friends an impression I was very rational and level headed, and unapproachable? I haven't given much thought to that. I'm conscious of the reasons I handle academics better than my peers at that time. The major reason is English. It's been my strong spot since junior high school coz my dad (due to his past regrets of not being able to learn the language properly and he assumed we could've emigrated to the States if his 2nd language was English instead of Japanese...). I, of course, became the new hope of his lost youth and dreams. I had several private tutors when I was a primary student and despite the lack of enthusiasm, mechanical training still took effect and I had a firm grasp of grammar although was shy at speaking. I still remember how I quarrelled with my dad, which ended up in a bloody family conflict eventually... I hated memorising dialogues and texts coz I thought it was useless if I couldn't understand the logics of how sentences were put together, and therefore I 'went on a strike' and made it clear I 'despised rote learning'. My dad wasn't without reasons, considering how humans naturally learn langauges, by copying and reproducing. Ask any native speaker and they wouldn't bother with grammar or phonetics. Language is 2nd nature to them because they started as copycats, and that's exactly what my dad was hitting at. Nevertheless, after getting hard slaps on my face, I went back to routine lessons. It wasn't something I took initiative in. It wasn't something I wanted of my own accord. I'd say it's a hard earned gift, all thanks to my dad. It started coz of you, but I'm glad it comes around enriching my life in more ways than I could imagine.

Back to Singapore. For 'FOBs' like us (short for 'Fresh Off the Boat'), quoted here specifically referring to that batch of mainland scholars who had to rewind themselves from a Chinese teaching environment to a strange English medium (I say strange, because average Singaproeans have horribly accented accents and I'm not exaggerating), ask anyone and they'd tell you the adaptation is a long hard voyage. The problem lies in lack of language proficiency, not a gap in learning capability. I don't mean to be condescending or trying to appear superior but the fact is, we all have solid foundations and on average, are way better students or else the government wouldn't have sponsored us in the first place. I don't match up to this group of elites in terms of 'ability' but regarding 'performance', I got around pretty well because the 'adaptation' for me, was only a short transient period. It's only in retrospect that I saw where these credits should go to, while at that time, everybody around me thought I was some top-notch star student. My dad even kept that piece of newspaper with my perfect O level score on it. It wasn't the least bit rewarding and exciting, except a few numb moments head in a cloud of laughable vanity. I'd trade all the buzz for clear eyes and a stern resolution but you wouldn't know that, would you? I never quite knew anything. I sound like Mr. Bean. "He knows no fear. He knows no danger. He knows nothing." I'm always a hopeless far off case.

Junior High School, two years of freedom, or abandon. No more headless endless studying, but nonetheless aimeless. I met Jady. I met ET. I met Gang, and politician Hu - my best rewards among a lost sea called 'back then'. Self restraint was slowly giving way to degradative youth rebellion and an awakening sense of individuality. I remember what I said in that orientation class, aka. 'meet each other and introduce yourself'. 'I choose triple science (our faculty's name, triple =biology, physics, chemistry) because I love biology and that's why I'm here.' My parents persuaded me to consider economics but I brushed off the option in a blink of an eye. Biology it will be, without discussion. I wouldn't want a life without biology but why? Another classmate said 'I'm here because I don't know what exactly what I want to do.' Bingo! That's what I would've said now but again, I'm always a slow motion case. It's like a blind illusion that makes you believe you're focused, motivated and energised while in fact you're just obstinately digging your own tunnel, hoping it leads to neverland or maybe just another grave you're unaware of. Myopia. I didn't try too hard for anything because I'm poisoned by lethargy, and overjoyed by a laid back life that circled around "hanging out with friends, visiting CD and book stores, trying out new cuisines in our favourite restaurants." That's why when I thought back, a big chunk of that memory fed back as 'Kinokuniya, HMV, Sushi Buffet, Orchard Road, Swensons...'. A whole big chunk of junk luxurious life. But to call it 'totally wasted' is equal to condemning my own worth of living, and of course JC life was much more than consumer experience. I promised to draw a manga series on what happened in those two years (I wonder if Gang and our singleton club president still remember...), I never went past three pages. They were still lying in a dusty folder in my room, if only I could find them. Still, the questions lingers. Did you achieve anything? What's your standing in life? Each one of us had a short pep talk with our civics tutor, who's a bubbly, warm-hearted cute lady. I told her 'I always knew I wanted to be a doctor'. I wonder where the hell that came from? Probably watched too much ER and charity shows. And she said 'Well, not everybody knows what they want in life.' Very interesting, I gasped and said 'What? They don't?' I'd like to give the 18 year old version of myself a hard knock on the head and remind me to mop that dumbstruck expression off the face. That's as far as idiocracy goes. I'm a perpetual liar. I don't. I never knew what I wanted in life and even till now, I'm not quite sure. During those few months, inches away from the final exam, we had a preliminary mock test, which I flunked miserably because I didn't study much. My parents were worried sick of what kind of university would accept me. I was unhappy too, not because of whatever dumb ass university would want me, unhappy just because of the plain fact that I lost the game, no more than that.

The stupid Singapore ministry of education forced us to take both the British system of tests AND the American SAT, both required for local univeristy entrance and it turned out (after we paid and took SAT), the policy was reconsidered and SAT was no longer a requirement. Another dumb thing I followed was SAT subject test. First of all, I have no idea what university I should apply. Everyone around me was scrambling for States applications. Fine, so they want SAT subject scores. Now I think of it, SAT subject test was probably one of the rare things I spent my heart on, because I was pissed I wasted money on my first SAT test and I just wanted to make sure I'd make the money's worth for this one. The result was brilliant, like a pretty exquisite stain glass you bought for hundred dollars and all the while you're living in a mudbrick house. 'What? So what's the use I took the subject test if I'm not going to apply to US univ?' And why was I NOT applying to US uinv? Because my parents said, it was hard to get a visa and there were all sorts of problems to consider. Am I a dumb ass? Not the first time surely. For someone as aimless and lazy as me, one statement like that could alter the direction of the journey. While my friends applied for government scholarships and were on their way to future elite life, I drifted along, to the 2nd largest continent called Canada, to study another dumb ass subject called biochemsitry, which I thought was a natural continuation of my 'all time favourite'. What if your made-up belief crumbles and you realize there's no neverland after all? I never thought about that because I'm Miss Bean. Everything I do, is without purpose.

I remember the Cambridge intervew I had. Prof. Keerapura, the interviewer (a made-up name. He's Indian and I don't remember him), scanned through my personal statement and said 'Oh, you like poems. Could you recite me a poem?' I recited Robert Frost's 'Stopping by wood on a snowy evening', one of my favourites. I was nervous, but I managed to keep the intonation and rhythm right. He was obviously glad and I was starting to feel hope. Minutes later, "What happens to neurotransmitters if they're not broken down?" I was speechless and my reasoning capability was laughing at me from far far behind. "They are reabsorbed and retaken back into cells. " I felt stupid. I wasn't accepted, not really because of the unwilling display of stupidity during interview, but the written test I took later. I was never good at mathematical problems, which I attributed to a lack of training since primary school. My maths tutor used to assure me I had a natural talent even without training, a remark I drank in and got disposed through the guts. I always knew, because it's a fact that made me happy but so what? No action is taken and I remain a very lame , useless empty pouch. The expression on my dad's face, his forlorn, languor profile solidified into an erasable field of fences in my memory. I don't understand why he was so unhappy just because I was rejected by Cambridge. Maybe I should be more surprised at my own lack of reaction. I never wanted things bad enough to the extent of hurting. It's either 'game won' or 'lost'. No more consequences. I'm still a child who has mood swings over the loss of his possessions, without knowing the word 'value', or 'worth'.

During the gap year where we were on job hunts while waiting for offers, my friends and I rented a house together. I didn't go search for a job. It came to me through my dad's friend, who has contacts with a small optic enterprise. My life, up till then, was almost planned out too smoothly. My family belongs to the upper middle class and has extensive network within their circles. I could be rightfully categorised into worry-free spoilt young generation of the 80s although I've been consciously trying to avoid such conventional labels and prove that I'm not a useless delinquent. However, is there anything I truthfully achieved on my own without a hand from my family? Practically no under modern standard. If there IS anything I managed to do, it was for my own little pleasure and does not seem to better my future prospective in any way. The job lasted for 3 months before I finally called quits. There were objective circumstances: 4 hours of travelling back and forth, pressure from a steely looking female boss, long working hours and low pay. I wrote a long, emotional email (aka complaint letter) back home listing all the happenings that threw my happiness down the gutter. My parents replied, even though they didn't quite understand English, they were sure I had a talent for writing. What they didn't tell me, and which I should have figured out on my own, was I just etched a label on myself. Read that, 'loser', 'quitter'. I do regret it I told them. If I'd to turn back time, one of the things I'd have redone is never to quit the job no matter what. This is one of the worst parts of me I still have the power to redeem.

The evening before, David asked me whether I collected coins. 'No. But my dad collects coins. I always bring home the leftovers, cents, loonies and he picks them up.' 'While he gives you cash in rolls and bundles.' I was thrown offhand by the casual remark. It's more than a punch to my pride, which brims full glass compared to what's little left of my self worth, if it could be measured at all. I could've hit you for saying that , I thought. My fingers froze for a while but managed to type 'I can bring you some coins next time I go back home.' He intended no insult and truth always hurts. My university expenditure is skyrocketing, an omnipresent fact that adds on to my guilt. Sometimes I could hardly sort out the problems and the mere reminder of it just drags my heart down a hundred miles. This academic year is frankly, purely, undoubtedly, fucked up. I thought I wouldn't use vulgar words but there're no better expression in place of it. I spent more time on my own writing, designs and whatever than I care to count. You thought you would never put yourself in dangerous situation. You thought you wouldn't go downhill. You thought just with your mere intelligence, you could go around it without hard efforts. It could happen and it happened. I've never hit grade C before in any major exam and now I have two hanging there in my record. I saw a joke I told, now it's laughing back at me. The past three months was the worst part of my life. I wonder where my self discipline went, or is it just another rebellious period that came a bit too late and too unecessarily? These days I remind myself failure makes a person stronger. To be able to rise from one's own failure is a major step forward. Summer is still filled with hope. Strangely after the big gravitational fall in my life, I feel truly freed and focused. And thanks to my parents. I can't tell you how thankful I am for having such understanding and open-minded parents. Although I am still not sure what I want to do in the future, at least I know why I'm doing the things I'm doing now and it will surely lead somewhere this time. Amid all the emptiness and nonexistence which constitues a major part of my lackadaisy mentality, I do know what I'm good at, and that's all the confidence I need. Before I make any blunt and weak statements such as 'I've lost all interest in science' or any extreme assertion like 'no biology no life', I should give my 100% in exchange for any justified reply, and that's the major agenda in summer. Tomorrow's another day, not just any other day.