Like most Singaporeans, I live in a high-rise apartment building: specifically, the ninth floor somewhere in the heartlands, far out West (according to our definitions of _far_, that is, anything more than 15 minutes away from Orchard road by taxi). There have been 2 funerals and a wedding in my estate this past week. In our country, you can’t really tell the difference between a funeral and a wedding anyway. People play mahjong through the night, look generally happy and elated… possibly because the burden of looking after their 80 year old relative is now.. literally, gone?
I understand their joy and I understand their grief. All their shouting in Hokkien and, expressions in badly twisted Mandarin. I understand it all. I understand that the lady who has just passed away did so abruptly; that I have seen her every day at the same time and the same place, for the past 20 (now going on 21) years of my life. Toothless by the time I knew could talk, dying by the time I could come home as late as I want. As I sit here at my study table in my 9th floor home, the suona plays the requisite sending off tunes. Tuneless. Grating. At least they’re not playing godawful karaoke dubs of Toni Braxton songs, this time, like they did with that _ah beng_ who died the last time.
I have two examinations tomorrow morning. 30% of my grade, each. What does that count for, in the greater scheme of things? Why do I concern myself so greatly with the enterprise of getting as many As as a person possibly and humanly is able to, despite knowing it’s all rubbish? When I go, honey, I want Arlo Guthrie to be played. _Everybody’s talking at me, I don’t hear a word they’re saying, only the echoes of my mind_. Followed by Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger.
I don’t want to grow up, baby.
*Update*: I am aware comments cannot be posted, but instead leads one to a 412 Precondition Failed page. This is a mod_security issue that I’m trying to resolve now. If I wasn’t stuck at 200 words from the end of an essay I’m writing, I would be on the scene right now, making quick changes to .htaccess to resolve the problem (mod_security thinks because I have the word ‘adult’ in my title, everyone who tries to comment is spammer). Works fine now.
possibly related
Beside Me /
I’m Not Dead /
Mimi and Didi /
Eulogies /
Charlie /
Not Ready To Be An Adult
Like most Singaporeans, I live in a high-rise apartment building: specifically, the ninth floor somewhere in the heartlands, far out West (according to our definitions of _far_, that is, anything more than 15 minutes away from Orchard road by taxi). There have been 2 funerals and a wedding in my estate this past week. In our country, you can’t really tell the difference between a funeral and a wedding anyway. People play mahjong through the night, look generally happy and elated… possibly because the burden of looking after their 80 year old relative is now.. literally, gone?
I understand their joy and I understand their grief. All their shouting in Hokkien and, expressions in badly twisted Mandarin. I understand it all. I understand that the lady who has just passed away did so abruptly; that I have seen her every day at the same time and the same place, for the past 20 (now going on 21) years of my life. Toothless by the time I knew could talk, dying by the time I could come home as late as I want. As I sit here at my study table in my 9th floor home, the suona plays the requisite sending off tunes. Tuneless. Grating. At least they’re not playing godawful karaoke dubs of Toni Braxton songs, this time, like they did with that _ah beng_ who died the last time.
I have two examinations tomorrow morning. 30% of my grade, each. What does that count for, in the greater scheme of things? Why do I concern myself so greatly with the enterprise of getting as many As as a person possibly and humanly is able to, despite knowing it’s all rubbish? When I go, honey, I want Arlo Guthrie to be played. _Everybody’s talking at me, I don’t hear a word they’re saying, only the echoes of my mind_. Followed by Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger.
I don’t want to grow up, baby.
*Update*:
I am aware comments cannot be posted, but instead leads one to a 412 Precondition Failed page. This is a mod_security issue that I’m trying to resolve now. If I wasn’t stuck at 200 words from the end of an essay I’m writing, I would be on the scene right now, making quick changes to .htaccess to resolve the problem (mod_security thinks because I have the word ‘adult’ in my title, everyone who tries to comment is spammer).Works fine now.possibly related
Beside Me / I’m Not Dead / Mimi and Didi / Eulogies / Charlie /