Consider trying to take a walk on Orchard Road trying to get from one building to another. Buskers line the street, and gawking idiots will all gather around the buskers but leave a five-foot-way between them and the performer’s tip box. So 5 precious feet of walking space is lost. Not only that, the slow lorises who amble by will slow down even more (I don’t know how they do it but apparently it is possible in our universe) and slow down the human traffic.

Then there are the monkeys. You know how monkeys in their free time love to pick lice off each other in a straight line?

Image taken from http://anabruno.wordpress.com/2008/08/06/ubud-bali-indonesia/

It’s the same with the monkeys in shopping malls who must walk hand-in-hand. Really ? A narrow walkway and you choose to do this to other users of the same walkway?

It’s the sheer crowd out there composed of such creatures that make me so mad. If I were given a dollar each time I roll my eyes during the holiday season, I would be a millionaire twenty times over. If you’re gonna say being caught in the crowd is part of this holiday experience, I’d personally buy you a dildo to screw yourself. Really.

Those who know me will know that I bitch about Sistic service standards all the time, from their booking process to ticket collection. My encounter at the ticket concierge yesterday changed my opinion about them, somewhat. See, I went over to the Tampines One counter during lunch time to collect my tickets, and I expected a queue, but there was only one other patron ahead of me, already completing her transaction. So I gave them my IC and credit card to collect my ticket. And I gave them the wrong credit card, so I fished out another one, and collected tickets to a show later in November this year, not the one I intended to collect for my show next week. I told her that never mind, I’ll go back and check which card I booked my tickets with. Then she proceeded to print my other tickets and showed me each one to confirm the time, date and seats, and filled up the collection form for me. All these while I have been collection tickets with Sistic, I have never had the concierge out of their own volition fill up the form for me. So I was pleasantly surprised.

Fast forward to after work – I finally realised which card I booked with, so I went down to Tampines One again. The concierge was still on duty and she recognized me! Then I collected my tickets and received the same confirmation treatment. I have never hard such pleasant experience collection tickets from Sistic, so I was quite surprised. Perhaps they are under Tampines One management, perhaps there’s been a recent change in service standards by Sistic, I won’t know but let’s say I am prepared to give them another chance to impress me.

Then there’s my encounter at Bugis Junction Starbucks today. I have a reputation among my friends for having insanely complicated drink order – I usually get a Iced Grande Decaf Non-fat Sugar-free Vanilla Latte. A mouthful to say, even harder to remember. The drink was well-executed, and it’s always pleasant when the staff chit-chat with you. Then I sat down to read my insanely thick book (read: Under The Dome, Stephen King, 877 pages), and after a while the staff came to me and offered me a receipt (not my own) – this receipt has a URL and special code to do an online survey, after which I can redeem a free Tall drink. Never done this before, very interesting. And then we chat about more and I fist-bumped the staff. I have never fist-bumped a stranger (or a friend, for the matter), so it was fun!

Now all that talk about awesome service and all – I guess it’s largely due to me being less angsty and more open-minded that I can truly see how people serve. Coupled with the fact I am now in the service industry myself – I appreciate good service more (but at the same time I have higher standards). I’m at a happy place, and I think you know it.

G: I cannot download the transcript, do you think I can just use exam result slip?
B1: what does the instruction say?
B2: why don’t you go to the office and request for the official transcript?
G: will the office do it on the spot?
B2: go and ask? No harm going, it’s just at the X building.
G: but I heard from my senior you have to apply and pay for it.
B1. I don’t know, you should go to the office.
G: I think I can use my exam results. Plus I uploaded my Dean’s List cert that should be ok right. (Fiddles with smartphone). They said either transcript or exam results. But there’s a limit to how much I can attach to the online portal.
B1: why don’t you call up the people in charge and ask.
G: I don’t want to!~~ wait let me call X. (Calls X- whine a little about not wanting to call the scholarship in charge)
G: maybe I just shouldn’t apply, the deadline is tomorrow, I’m too late.
B1: if it’s online you can do it tonight.
G: but I cannot upload my documents. I think it’s fated I shouldn’t apply.

I hate to say this but in this scenario this charboh is damn wishy-washy can? Robin Lakoff nailed this aspect in her research, no doubt.

We talked about books. A couple of sci-fi and fantasy fans were ablaze, and I was inducted into some interesting reads. And we discussed academia, religion, Facebook … it’s places like this I can truly admit I don’t get poetry without feeling any tinge of inadequacy. It’s places like this I can meet someone who is not at all from my field but is whom I can earnestly talk to about my thesis and get affirmation. It’s places like this I can say “hey that’s bullshit and you know it” and not have the other party feel stupid. It’s places like this where there is some kind of common understanding of some … je ne sais quoi. It’s a place that makes me feel alive, something I haven’t felt in a long time. .. I have to admit I would dearly miss an environment like that however ivory-tower-intellectual-wanking it is.

I’m sure if you had seen me there you’d say something like “the Wanni of 2003 is back”. The girl who was rah-rah and excitable, the girl who truly enjoyed what she did, the girl who makes sunshine seem dull because she shines more (ok, that is a little too much, but you get the idea).

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate talking to the rest of you smart down-to-earth people. It just takes certain topics to get me excited, but these things don’t come up very often. I want to try to engage without being hypocritical, I want to learn to accept without betraying my own beliefs, I want to connect without fear of dumbing down. Now I am only afraid that knowing heaven will make earth hell.

So, what does this say? Why is there this preoccupation with positive defiance? Why are parents made to be seen as the one last stumbling block before we can do what we want to do? Does that suggest that parents, being parents, must be the ones to stop us from doing anything they don’t want us to do? I’m tempted to say, simply, not everything you see in the media is mere fiction. Writers of books and screenplay must draw their inspiration and story from somewhere. It’s pretty difficult to just make something up. Somehow, the life experiences of a small percentage of the population dictate what we see and read, and subsequently influencing us to think the way we do (or don’t). As a matter of fact, I used to think all this defiance was cool, since only the cool kids do it. I never really had the guts to do it though; my protests were small, if not insignificant. I’m not a risk taker as it seems; I wasn’t sure my protest will yield positive results in terms of success in whatever like it is always portrayed in the media. And then there’s the bit about the immediate repercussions of staging a protest; it will not be pretty, and again, the negative seem to outweigh the positive.

Sometimes I wonder if teenagehood is a false construct. It seems that we were taught that we have to grapple with issues of defiance, experimentation, generally livin’ larger. Consider a world without such mass media to mess with our heads. Will we instinctly want to slam our doors and roll our eyes? Really, think about it. What happens when we take such external influences out? What is this core that is left behind? But I digress.

So now when I see a movie or a book romanticising positive defiance I feel the need to scoff a little. Such things turn teenagers into risk-takers, which is good on some account but needlessly rash on the others. In the same vein that because no one can tell the future so you should take the chance and perhaps you’ll shine, precisely no one can tell the future you won’t know if this moment of rebellion will send you straight to hell. Just sayin’. ]]> http://lovelyloey.me/succeed-defy-your-parents/feed/ 1 http://lovelyloey.me/moral-mindfuck/ http://lovelyloey.me/moral-mindfuck/#comments Tue, 28 Dec 2010 05:56:28 +0000 lovelyloey http://lovelyloey.me/?p=4217 I’m reading The Moral Landscape by Sam Harris now. This book explores the notion of Morals through a scientific viewpoint. Reading the book I was inspired to conceive a moral mindfuck of sorts to well, fuck with your minds.

Let’s pretend -

Suppose there is a gene in the human genome that makes a person a murderer. Once you have this gene, you will definitely murder one or more other human beings in your lifetime. Suppose again, then, there is a cure for this genetic condition. Scientist are able to switch off this gene permanently. This treatment can be performed at childbirth, and costs $50,000. The state then provides free genetic screening at birth for all babies.

Based on this premise -

Gina is an unwed mother who gives birth to a baby, Tim. Tim’s father has fled the country because he is a political exile. Tim, at his genetic screening, is shown to carry the murderer gene. However, Gina cannot afford the genetic treatment, even after State subsidy. Tim grows up, and one day, he killed two people.

The first person is a random person on the street who walked too slow in front of him.

The second person is the Prime Minister who exiled his father.

Consider both scenarios and play the fault game. Who is to blame for the two deaths? Can we claim that Tim has lost all free will? Suppose if Tim’s father wasn’t exiled, he could have afforded the treatment and Tim would not have killed the Prime Minister. Then, is the Prime Minister’s death his own fault? Does the two deaths hold the same value? If not, why? Shouldn’t two lives be, just lives and hence valued equally?

Feeling confused? Convoluted? Undecided? You should be. Questions like this aren’t meant to be easily answered, and hence, a mindfuck.

See, I have a package from Japan. I tracked my package this morning, and at 9 am, they claim it’s with the delivery courier. So I cleared my day and stayed in to wait for my package.

Soon came 12noon, no sign. No worries at this point.

Then it was 4pm. I started to worry.

I waited in the living room with the door wide opened, not even daring to go to the toilet lest I miss the courier.

8-fucking-30 pm and no sign of the courier. I went to track my package again and to my horror -

ADDRESSEE OFFICE CLOSED? ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

Firstly, this is not an office address. Secondly, I was waiting literally in front of the door. No fucking courier came. Thirdly, there is no delivery advice left for me. How am I even supposed to arrange redelivery?

This is due evidence that there is at least one liar Speedpost courier and you can’t trust their service.

Guess who will be getting an angry phone call from me tomorrow plus multiple emails? This is one reason not to go into customer service – you can’t vouch for the integrity of your colleagues and you can’t blame angry customers.

Here I pick some of my favourite bits from this talk:

When you ask people about love, they tell you about heartbreak; when you ask people about acceptance, they tell you their more excruciating experiences of being excluded; and when you ask people about connection, the stories that they told me were about disconnection.

… the people who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe that they are worthy of love and belonging.

The word courage, from the Latin word ‘coeur’, which means heart, has the original meaning of simply telling the story of who you are with your whole heart.

We numb vulnerability… [but] we cannot selectively numb emotions without numbing the other affects and emotions. We numb joy, gratitude, happiness…

These concepts are not complicated but they are the hardest to learn (I borrow this juxtaposition from the Indigo Girls). I’m a not a big fan of psychology and psychiatry. Yet what she says make sense and appeal to me. Perhaps it’s a mindset I’ve been trying to change in myself, to have an open mind. In any case, I think this is an illuminating talk about what we hide away and why. I highly recommend you to watch this.

But I feel I’m wrong. People judge people, and couch that as opinion. Like what Teri said about people telling her that after having children life becomes instantly important, that in itself lies judgement. I recall telling my students in tutorial that when we couch phrases as “I think that” or “I believe that”, these become expressives (in that they express opinion) as opposed to representatives (which represent facts), and in doing so, no one should be allowed to question what you think and feel. For example, “I think John is stupid” versus “John is stupid” — the former is an opinion where the truth value is unimportant, and the latter is subject to examination of fact. Well, that’s that.

Now, just because we can couch pseudo-facts into opinions, is it right for us to dump it on everyone? I’m often guilty of giving out unsolicited advice. This has got a lot to do with my inability to only empathize, because I’m all about what can be do, and not what feelings can be talked away. But that’s aside the issue. So I keep on telling people what to do. Some like it, some don’t. Why do I find it so difficult to keep my opinions to myself?

Every opinion is literally my brain child. Of course I’ve got to put it out and showcase it like a proud mother to her newborn. It’s hard not to form opinions about things, forming opinions help us make sense of our world. That said, like what I said at the beginning of this post, it’s usually the expression that gets us into trouble. What an ironic world. We’re never allowed to fully express our god-given traits and god-given rights just because some people find it disturbing and disrupting to their puny little existence (you’re right to sense something greater than just opinion talk).

And I digress, as usual, but who cares?