Never Let Me Go

Currently in a strange but not-too-unfamiliar funk after finishing reading Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go: reflective, melancholy, a little bit restless and feeling as if my perspective and the boundaries of my life could do with some stretching and expanding.


The book (Spoilers in this section!)

The book is great, an absorbing read but very subtle and restrained. Events unfold with wistful inevitability, and the reveal of the central science fiction element (the characters are clones created to be organ donors) is gradual and done quite straightforwardly and without fanfare, as the focus is instead on the characters dealing the best they can with their situation, trying to live their lives the best way they know how.

The inherent tragedy of their existence only serves to deepen the already-significant pathos of the strange interdependent love triangle between the main characters. Following their stories from being sheltered at the boarding-school-like Hailsham through to their eventual fates was delightfully bittersweet.

I also liked Kathy's narration. The adjective "impassive" pops up in my head but I'm not really sure that's the right way to describe it. Straightforward, matter-of-fact. Or perhaps the word I'm looking for is just how natural and easy it seemed to get inside her head.


The funk

Although I do find myself getting into a quiet, reflective mood upon finishing a good book, melancholy ones such as this induce such a mood much more easily and intensely. I'm still reeling a little even now, almost two hours after.

The first feeling I remember was one of narrow-mindedness or lack of perspective. I suppose this is something common to most good books and literature -- they do tend to (are supposed to?) show things in new lights and induce new ways of thinking about the same (important) things. In this particular case, I felt distinctly unknowledgeable in the matter of friendships and relationships and dealing with people. And to think that I don't have any tragic fate to contend with!

The next was a momentary feeling of loneliness and inevitability, but thankfully it quickly passed into this final urge to finally fully think about and do something about my own life, which is much less complicated or fraught. Perhaps "thinking fully" about my life is an unrealistic pipe dream, but I do feel as if there's a threshold I've been afraid to or too lazy to cross. I haven't been pushing myself hard enough to be honest and unafraid, to confront the truth. (And now I get a flashforward to that future time when I finally do so only to realize that I've been afraid of stupidly pathetic realizations all this time.)

In any case, planning to try my best to make this mood useful and actually get some thinking done, but I think I may be too tired (and still a little hungover) from carousing last night. (Oh, my tragic tragic life.)

What now?

Or, given this (the state, as far as I know it, of my world), what should come next?

I began reading Mindfulness in Plain English last week, in the hopes that beginning the practice of meditation would help me find or at least get closer to finding "the answers". I'm more than halfway through and so far I've found the book very readable, relatively no-nonsense (there are some offhand allusions to supernatural aspects of higher-level meditation that weren't too obnoxious), and most importantly, promising and encouraging.

However I've yet to actually even try sitting. Aside from never seeming to be able to just relax and take some time to sit and meditate, I also have the problem of finding a good spot to do so. The office does not really offer much in the way of comfortably private locations where I can sit and be still without getting distracted or feeling self-conscious.

As I continue to read and think about it more though, I'm growing more convinced that this may just be what I need to be able to actually maintain that rare sense of perspective that pops up from time to time in my head (through no fault of my own).

Word association: adjustments

Less alcohol, more caffeine. Less eating, more exercising. Less sleeping in, more rising early. Less coasting, more awareness. Less consumption, more creation.

Less diffidence, more initiative. Less settling, more thoroughness. Less introspection, more expression. Less idleness, more action.

Less moping, more walking. Less regret, more excitement. Less worrying, more doing.

Less cowering, more dancing.

Hello, 2012.

I should’ve met you on my feet and started the new year with some forward motion, any motion, however small. I should’ve cleaned up my room, my computer, and gone through the items remaining on my before-I-go-back-to-SG list. I should’ve hunkered down, shut myself in my room, and sat down to have a nice long thorough think.

Well. Instead, I gave in to a thoroughly lazy, improvement-free Sunday filled with food, naps, Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, Gilmore Girls, and more food. The night is drawing to a close and it’s only now that my guilty conscience rears its head, waggles a finger, tut-tuts.



So, here we are, here I am. Which is where, exactly? Well. It’s the first day of the year and I’ve shut myself in my room and just lazed about, leading to this horrible guilty first night of the year. Maybe it’s delayed onset holiday depression, but I’m feeling rather lonely and especially unsure of myself and what I’m doing with my life.

For instance, I’ve been back home for a month, yet I haven’t really done much with my time. Worked (admittedly, this did take up most of my time and energy), went out a couple of times with the few friends I have remaining, treated my nieces to fast food and ice cream and the like a few times, and of course performed the requisite Christmas season pigging out. I feel like I haven’t made the most of my time here.

In particular, I believe what’s really bugging me is that, despite all historical evidence, I had been hoping that I would somehow automagically emerge wiser, more in charge, surer of myself, and happier at the other end of this little trip. Talk about high, unrealistic expectations, right? Yet even though I do realize that, it still is a major bummer that, instead, I’m still here where I’ve always been and where, it seems, I’m fated to stay.

Maybe I’m looking at things all wrong and all I really need to do is to make peace with my stupid, unempathetic, waffly, oblivious, useless, depressive, physically, morally, and mentally flabby self. (Or maybe I’m just once again resorting to the tired self-deprecation trick in lieu of coming to actual useful conclusions.)



Well, I suppose I’ll allow myself to stay in this mood for a while longer. Calmer reflection has convinced me (somewhat, or maybe I’m just getting sleepy and tiring of this fruitless line of thought) that this is a normal feeling that should pass soon enough. Feeling unsure and sad about one’s life doesn’t indicate that everything’s wrong and is headed for ruin, and in fact, it doesn’t necessarily indicate that anything at all is wrong.

I’m not saying that I don’t think there’s room for improvement in my life, because there is perhaps a couple of warehouses’ worth of room, but that, I guess, it’s counterproductive and stupid to let vague little doubts grow into vague large doubts.

I can and will do better this year. A little too undefined for a mantra, perhaps, but it’s at least an optimistic start. Here’s to us, 2012. Hajimemashite, douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

Home stretch

The all-too-brief holiday weekend is over and it’s time to kick off another workweek. I didn’t really want to go back to work just yet (it was perhaps a horrible idea to decide to try to get into Oblivion again when I know I won’t really have time to play and in any case will be leaving the country and my gaming desktop behind in a week or so).

I should cheer myself up with some happy music, some happy thoughts. As ever though, it’s quite a struggle against my natural melancholy inclinations (I suppose that makes it sound less pathetic than it actually is), and the composition of my music library isn’t helping at all. (That seems like a worthwhile New Year project: liven up and diversify my music!)

I think it’s partly barely having had any vacation time or time off this whole month I’ve been home, and partly that this interlude is ending soon and I’ll be heading back to Singapore to live and work there once more. I can’t say that the prospect isn’t exciting -- getting my time to myself again, being in the First World, having a room to myself, not having to commute -- but at the same time I suppose I’m beginning to realize that there are a lot of things about being back home that I’ll miss: home-cooked food, being around the family (despite the persistent distance), being around the few friends I have left in the country, the places and people I bump into on my daily routine here, and the basic familiarity of the language, the culture, how everything looks and sounds and feels.

At the same time, I also feel as if I wasted this opportunity to reconsider and re-evaluate the course of my life. In a week or two I’ll once again be swept out of the country and back into the life I’ve been leading for the past year. This more-than-a-month-long sojourn should’ve provided me with some time to get much-needed perspective and finally do the thinking I feel I’ve been putting off for too long, but, well, it hasn’t seemed to yet.

Keeping on keeping on

Finally got myself back on the treadmill this afternoon, after many weeks of inactivity. Who needs nicotine when endorphins are more readily available, and, even better, free? (Sigh, I wish I could say that with as much conviction as it deserves. I don't think my future looks too good, since we'll be flying back home soon, to that magical land of cheap booze and cigarettes, oh, and friends to enjoy them with, right, that's important too.)


While I was actually in the moment of exerting myself and trying to pull just a little more energy to run just a little bit further, it hit me: isn't this just what it takes to get anywhere in life, and to develop any skill or aspect of oneself? Yes, yes, to be sure, I was tired and endorphin-addled and much too proud of myself for breaking a sweat, but even now, calmer and cooled down, I think there's a lot of truth to that realization.


A truth, mind you, that isn't always as convincing as it is when it manifests itself in such a straightforward manner and in a simple situation. Keep running, gradually increase your pace or duration or distance, and you'll grow better at it. Simple, no two ways about it. (Well, maybe I do simplify a bit too much, since there is of course the problem of hydration and the dangers of overtraining and possible injury, but the fundamental concept is still one of progressive improvement, right? And that improvement can be measured quite precisely and unquestionably.)


Unfortunately with most other things there are many orders of magnitude more factors to consider, and it isn't always easy to see through all the perceived obstacles and reasons for hesitation to the fact that's still there, behind everything. Just keep on keeping on (hopefully of course learning and enjoying yourself as you go).

Singapore, Singapore.

It's really quite strange to think that I've been on this (arguably) First World island for nearly a year now. I've probably grown to take many things for granted, such as the first-rate public transportation system and public infrastructure in general, the almost total absence of crime and the attendant city-dweller fear, and, to get much closer to home, the blazing fast connection to the Internet at the office¹.


The train and bus system here is a real marvel, especially in comparison with the Philippines' own paltry, overcrowded efforts. Combined with an impressive dedication to pedestrian-friendliness and accessibility, I feel as if I could get anywhere I wanted on the island cheaply, safely, and without any hassle. At times it feels almost like the open world of a sandbox game, where you could simply head off and walk in any direction and be sure you could eventually arrive anywhere within your field of view.


But enough one-sided gushing, I'm beginning to feel too much like the Third-World refugee that I am. My intended point was just that, hey, I've been here for a while in this place that encourages wandering around and going to places, and I haven't really stretched my legs that much. Sure, I've walked a couple of times from here to the Orchard Road area and back², and sure, I've walked the Southern Trails, been to Bukit Timah Nature Reserve and the Botanic Gardens, but I don't feel as if I've really come close to the heart³ of this place.


What I mean to say, I suppose, is that I don't feel like I've been making the most of all the opportunities available to me here. Malaysia's just a bus ride away, yet I've never gone there and have only the vaguest intentions to do so. I don't have a curfew to worry about, and I'm free to spend my time however I want⁴.


I think it's long past time I started really exploring this place⁵, and living experiences to tell stories about. (And, no, the visits on weekends to the same cafes⁶ and restaurants don't really count.)


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[1] Not to mention decent access to it almost everywhere else on my phone.
[2] Two hours or so each way. Not the most scenic route, as it's city street after city street, but the feeling of being able to take such a long walk is worth it.
[3] OK, this isn't the place to argue about whether there even is a "heart" to this place that can be found. I know too little about the local culture and can only rely on vague impressions and secondhand hearsay. But it does seem, on that scant evidence, that there is a valid concern as to the existence of a uniquely Singaporean heritage apart from the admittedly-impressive if boring one of order-from-chaos and First-World-from-Third.
[4] Only to an extent of course, I am after all gainfully employed and can't just hare about whenever I want.
[5] On a related note, it's also long past time that I started settling in and just maybe making more of a home in this place, but that deserves to be talked about in its own venue.) I'm young, unattached, and have ample resources to enjoy my life and mold it to what I want it to be.
[6] Oriole Cafe does really have excellent coffee, though!

And finally he gets to the obligatory quarterlifing

Although, really, it hasn't been quite as bad lately, due to greater excitement (read: stress, but closer to eustress than distress, most days, anyway) at work. After all, who would have time to worry about such vague fluffy things like a sneaking sense of directionlessness, or a lack of perceived agency, or the feeling that the past twenty-three years of existence haven't - on the balance - amounted to much, or, in short perhaps, a fear of just "not getting" something terribly important (and terribly obvious to everyone else), when (whew) there are much more clear-cut concerns to deal with, like bug reports and deadlines and task lists?

Still, well, ahem, I guess I would have to admit here that I would. I would always have time to worry, it's just the way I'm wired, and the way I've comported myself for most of my life, though it never really showed to people who never got to know me. To most, I was and am just that quiet harmless dude with a reputation for being smart and aloof, and some have even called me carefree, oy, little do they know.

Don't worry though, gentle reader, I'm not about to launch into that practiced, desperate roll call of everything that, over the years, I've determined to be wrong with myself and my life. We've had just about enough of that over my blogging lifetime, haven't we, and now it's time to grow up and move on. Instead of dwelling on the negatives and on feelings of helplessness and doom, why not look forward and ponder solutions? 

I once believed with all my heart and mind (such as they were and are) that enlightenment would eventually come if I just continued mentally chewing the cud. The act itself also held a strange, masochistic allure, or maybe it just became more comfortable to worry about the same things over and over than to actually act and do something about them. I didn't think I knew what to do, I couldn't get out of the cycle of thinking, and so I bemoaned many ruts and periods of depression. (Clinical sufferers may scoff at my use of the term; I've never had myself diagnosed, but I can say those times were no walks in parks.)

Bit by bit I think I'm making progress. Right now, I do still feel as if I have no idea whatsoever what I want to or should do with my life, but it hasn't got me quite as down, and I feel as if I've also grown much less tolerant of stupid wallowing in that years-fermenting muck of useless self-recrimination. I'm grateful to be where I am now, despite still not being able to shake the feeling that it's all just been a series of lucky stumbles. I mean, if I've just been lucky so far, I should be in for even better times now that I'm beginning to actually pay attention, right?

Making lists helps, and writing thoughts and hypotheses down, anything to concretize the vagueness and thus make it manageable, even for instance this little exercise of acknowledgment and making light. Maybe it's a false sense of accomplishment that such items arouse, but at the same time it can't be denied that doing anything is better than doing nothing. (Well, in most cases, and if you keep from doing stupid things.) Move, make mistakes if you must, but just keep moving.

I promise, if I ever figure anything out, I'll tell you all about it. (Or did that come off more like a threat of more stories from a boring uncle?)

A life regimen?

The workout regimen has been progressing nicely, and I've been getting encouraging comments from people saying that I'm losing weight pretty well.

Jumping rope is beginning to become a habit, something I look forward to and enjoy doing regularly; I've recently managed to beat the 200-consecutive-squat challenge, and am now working on getting strong enough to do one-legged squats; The situp and pushup programs are moving along slowly.

I'd have to agree that I need to develop my arms, though. Losing fat from my limbs is slowly exposing my underdeveloped muscles. For that weightlifting would have to be the next thing to incorporate into my workout regimen.

I should take heart from these developments, and realize that, hey, changing things is as simple as starting to do new things and sticking to them!

In that spirit, in the next few days, I'm going to seriously try to identify several more habits that will gradually improve myself in all the other ways that matter to me. A tentative list: critical thinking, expressing opinions articulately, writerly craftsmanship, programming/ software development, one-to-many/one-to-one social interaction, general organization, time management... Oh wow, I guess I could go on and on, I'm going to need to narrow these down into the most important ones, first.