falling into grace

A column I wrote for ST's Youthink on youth apathy. I'm posting it here because I'm convinced it will be yanked - not published. Stay tuned to every monday's ST to see if I'm right.

"I am possibly one of the only people my age who has ever been to an opposition party political rally.

It was a Singapore Democratic Party rally in 1997, and
I was a tender, wider-eyed 11 year old, stunned and thrilled
by the genuine fervour I felt from the assembled masses.

The (mostly) men there were excitable and loud,
prone to breaking into chants of ""SDP! SDP!"" and raucous
jeering at allusions made by candidates to the ruling party.

The one moment that stuck
in my mind from that experience was when the crowd
erupted into loud cheers for some unknown presence - a
ripple went through the crowd: ""It's JBJ!"", men around me told each other.

I couldn't see this elusive acronymed person - he wasn't
onstage, and despite the clamour from the crowd, was not
going to walk onstage.

He wasn't allowed to, because he was being sued, and was not an official candidate.

On the way home, my father told me the story of Mr
Jeyaretnam's political career, and why the crowd at the rally
seemed to cheer for him as if he was the second coming.

Mr Jeyaretnam's political career has one point, really,
and it is the same point that, in my opinion, has led to the
widespread political apathy of Singaporean youth.

Quite simply: it is the message from the powers, that offering a diverging opinion or a dissenting voice - considered
hallowed privileges in most democracies - will end only in
litigation and bankruptcy.

It is the message that the countless OB markers spell
out to anyone my age thinking of a career in politics: step past
them, and the price is yours to pay.

With such clear-cut directives, what other response
could we have, but to shrug and be indifferent?

In a Straits Times interview, Catherine Lim the author once defined political
openness as the acceptance of three things: ""civic assembly,
political cartoons and the ability to sue the government -
and win"".

The lack of use of a muscle leads to its atrophy. Similary,
the lack of political openness, as defined by Catherine Lim,
leads to political atrophy - apathy and indifference.

Mr Jeyaretnam tried to force open the door of politics,
and look what happened to him. He was a brave men - but lost against the system anyway.

That was the lesson I learnt from the rally in 1997, the same lesson that has been impressed upon people my age time and again every time another opposition figure is sued, or every time another
district is gerrymandered.

The lesson is this: no matter the ruling party's rhetoric
about galvanising Singaporean youth politically, any one who oversteps the limitations of ""free speech"" as defined by the government will ultimately be punished.

"Be political, but only according to our rules." : that is
the message.

Can you blame us for not answering such a compromised call?"

Apologies for the short paragraphs - not usually my style. But it's ST's style.

Posted by chang! at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments

I've been reading blogs lately. No, not the blog-surfing of people I know and people they know where it's just "today i went for lunch with who and who, then i watched movie with who and who", or the "i see the world without colour, i'm so depressed at 19, i'll never be happy again" variety..but famous (to some extent) and long-running blogs.

Two in particular: this one, and postmoderncourtesan.blogspot.com (introduced, all credit due, by karen from stmoney)

Now, the latter is written by a high class callgirl. She has a lot of sex, and I do mean ALOT. And she frequently blogs long, very detailed entries which are basically graphic descriptions of her dalliances.

Now granted, I did not avert my eyes the first time I read one of her sex posts. I read the whole thing through. I even thought it was sexy (not revolting like porn) and well-written.

But here's the thing: interspersed with her sex posts and various dalliances (there's russian men with dildos and butt plugs; ambitious 69-ing; a rather unconvincing frequency of men going down on her and multiple orgasms), are political rants, philanthropic causes etc etc

But the question is, after reading the graphic sex posts, who's gonna want to read about her actual opinions?! I'm pretty sure most of her readers are there for the online smut, NOT her opinion on bush.

Which brings me to this tequilamockingbird blog, which I think is some of the best writing I've come across in a long time. And honesly that's something coming from me, because, the thing is, I'm not that big a fan of non-fiction writing in this sense. I mean, I like biographies, but of famous political figures. I like reading the blogs of my friends - but because what they write about, and who they write about might actually be familiar, and matter, to me.

But I find it endlessly weird and implausible that people might care about a stranger's life, that the chronicling of things and people who aren't of any significance to them, might hold their attention.

But this girl - her name is julia - is just one of those people with the gift of making the most inane things acessible to the casual reader. (David Sedaris is like that too, in a different, shit-your-pants-laughing way). She's funny -really funny, yet writes really well about emotional issues - especially the many tragic events that have gone on in her life.

Like postmodern courtesan, she seems to have a really exciting life. But the experiences she blogs about are so varied, and so mixed with the mundane, so compelling that it is easy for me to believe that she is telling the truth - her writing has so much heart.

It's much easier than believing that postmoderncourtesan is having 3 orgasms a night, three times a week, and that she can remember every detail of the moments leading up to her climax.

So, just when I could not love julia -tequilamockingbird - more, I read this:

9.12.2002: "i struggle with this talk of war with iraq. our government parades its evidence in support of attacking iraq in front of us daily: they have "weapons of mass destruction." they have biological weapons capabilities. they're mean, and that one especially mean guy embarrassed my dad and made him lose to that guy from arkansas.

but, here's the thing: the united states has weapons of mass destruction. and, just last week, there was a news story about a security breach at a biological weapons facility in one of those square states out west somewhere. so, here's my question: how come we're allowed to have all this stuff, but we think that no one else should have it? how can we talk about going to war with a country because they have the same toys we do, and we don't like that? something seems fundamentally wrong with that logic. who died and left us to be the boss of all the other countries?! who do we think we are? and there are still americans who don't understand why the rest of the world doesn't love us. don't misunderstand -- our actions around the world don't justify what happened on 9/11. but, in my opinion, our actions around the world made it an inevitability."

This woman is impossible not to love.

The point of this long and meandering post is: go read her blog!

Posted by chang! at 12:03 AM | Permalink | Comments

When I was composing this post in the shower just (yes, that's the kind of thing I do while shampooing), this seemed easy. It would be a touching, elegant goodbye. A thank you; an expression of love.

But I can't really start. And when I think of you leaving, and me leaving one week after, I just feel at a loss. Like I've survived for too long seeing your back as I stomped (yes, loud elephant footsteps) into the office, and a weekday morning that that doesn't happen just isn't conceivable.

One more day to stomp in and seeing your back, all the while avoiding faridah's evil eye. One more day to have a two and a half hour lunch; one more day to go for tea, share chocolate rhumba, slack at branding sipping cup after cup of water, with the occasional ignatius or jen to hang out with.

One more day to IM although we're two seats away from each other; one more day to come over to your desk to just chit chat, about the most inane or trivial thing that would crack us up anyway.

And when I think of the first time I saw you - the arrogant gait (haha!) mixed with my relief that I was no longer the newest, and most awkward person there - I could never have imagined then that you would become such a friend, such a shelter from the madness of the newsroom and adult life.

I could never have imagined that I would have the memories of these six months - the memories I have now. Being mistaken for prostitutes in our quest for a thai massage, then squealing and giggling and "schizer!"-ing through it; going for free buffet lunches at fullerton - with you taking the notes although it was my assignment - ; plotting the t-shirt stunt (and pulling it off!); endlessly debating our colleagues' sexualities.

Sharing the shit, the tears, the excitement and the fun of our virgin forays into the newsroom and financial journalism. Commiserating over shitty copy editors, ranting about evil secretaries (ok, more me), sharing each other's triumphs.

There were the ugly quarrels : the tension over a 15 cm; the YOU-got-rejected-by-DBS spat that became a why-you-arrow-me-to-ignatius altercation that erupted into a don't-pity-me-bitch fracas etc etc

We clashed because we were too alike - the same reason we clicked. And while we rolled our eyes at all the jokes by erica and grace about our intern uniforms and our double act, I was secretly thankful that you were the other intern, and not anyone else.

And so, it's with all the sincerity that I can muster, (and a pitiful face!) that I say thank you for spending these 6 months with me..for putting up with me, for laughing at my lame jokes (or at least rolling your eyes at them), for support, for cracking me up, for understanding, and just for being there where and when no one else could or would.

I told you once that I hoped you could forgive me for not being as good a friend to you as you have been to me - that holds true still. And now that it's time to say goodbye I can only wish that I had treasured everything more.

Ok, nobody is dying, but like you said: it's really the end of an era.

I'll miss ya terribly.

And the effort it has taken to write this post just only reminds me of the depressing fact that this is only the first of the goodbyes I'm gonna have to say over the next 4 months. Let's hope they get easier. (Why do I have the feeling that they don't?)

Posted by chang! at 12:05 AM | Permalink | Comments

So the malaysian-trip-which-became-an-east-coast-chalet has come and gone. It was quite alot of fun..from the bbq (which I missed but apparently was a success) to the rollerblading shenanigans (skull-ringing falling!) to late night wine-and-taiti sessions to (our favourite bits:) eating and slacking around.

It was such a random group of people - the four of us with no real binding connection - and I think that was the magic. No history, no baggage, no tension - just laid back fun..which is always the best kind.

So here's to the memories in order of hilarity: renji's shit smell that hit us all at the same time (and which he maintains was one of us farting and not his excrement); chiara's wound-cleaning at kenny rogers ("I can see you wiping!" *whole restaurant turns around*); Ultra-stick rollerblading socks and weixuan "pruning her garden"; "oxxxfoooord!"; from asshole to president!; us: "let's wake up and watch sunrise tomorrow!", chiara "such a romantic moment and I'm sharing it with you three?!"; cat-humping action; completely missing the sunrise and waking up with ten minutes to check-out.

I realise no one but the four of us would understand that paragraph. So here's to random friends!


renji!


weixuan!


chiara!


us and renji's wonky eye!

Posted by chang! at 3:31 PM | Permalink | Comments

So it's been confirmed that I can change my course to PPE at Oxford. That's great I guess.

flashback to dinner with sheryl loke on monday.
She takes out the book list (PART of the booklist, and there're already like 15 books on there)

Basically, it's not pretty. Three books alone on German politics in the 19th century, British politics 1900-1990, one word titles like "Utilitarianism" and "Existentialism".

I look at the list. I look at her. She looks at me.

sheryl loke: "With the book list they sent a letter saying, be done with the reading by the time term starts!"

pause.

me: "Ok it's finally sunk in. We're going to Oxford to study."

How scared shitless am I.

Posted by chang! at 11:39 AM | Permalink | Comments