Dreams and the future. And past.
Apparently, I do have readership. I see thoughts of my own, reflected across time and space like a mirror. I see text, words that are similar to those of my own creation, on other people's webpages. Like my footprint, but not left by me. It is unsettling, no doubt, to know that a clone like yourself exists. But it is also calming, for having seen that footprint of a clone, I am now certain that I exist. Or that if I die, somebody like me has survived.
Today will be a long day for you, dear reader, for I am about to tell you a little story, a little episode in my life, and then I'm going to practice my GP. Sadly, though the issues in GP are surely weighty, they are hardly worth the time and space here. For the answer to those questions lie in the hands of the Cambridge examiners every year. Collate those essays, tabulate the similar views into a nice little graph, and you can see the future of Singapore today. But no.
You can't do that. The results won't be truly reflective. Why? Asks gentle reader. Because the examination system has become so fundamentally flawed, that the viewpoints are no longer those of the student, but that of the teacher reflected in the student's hands, but that of MOE's directives, the schools directives, the religious and moral directives, reflected in the teachers. They want to see what they want to see, and we show them what they want to see. They see themselves.
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I'll talk about my life here. I don't think I say enough about it on my blog so far. It's all just thoughts and ideas and thoughts.
I just took my bicycle out for a ride the other day, cos I had a fever and was really feeling sick, hot and bothered. Decided to go for a little fresh air, some good lung bursting exercises, kill the evil germs with lactic acid! I like cycling at East Coast Park. The air is reasonably fresh, there are no vehicles or pedestrians to worry about, it's just straight roads all the way until you reach one end, and then turn the bike around and cycle to the other end, repeat until you're tired out. It's nice. Cool calm and reflective, and I can feel all the stress just melting away. You're engrossed in beating the next cyclist, beating your previous time, sitting into the saddle and moving your feet in little circles, floating, speeding by like Superman, the floor just inches away from your pedals.
The sun sets again, like it always does, you see in full colour, daylight, then it gradually reddens to orange,red, scarlet, before fading away into blues and greens. I am but a cyclist on the shore, the sea stretches over, out into infinity, to places where my bicycle cannot take me. On that seashore, I am but a little crust of heaviness. A fleck of sand, a replaceable bit of dust.
I say to the sea that I miss her, think back to the fun I've had on those shores, in the waves, paddling, sitting, watching the sun rise. When I see how big the world is, I realize how small my problems are.
I look up, gracefully swerving to avoid a pedestrian. a row of lights greet me, circular streetlamps guiding me along a silver dragon's back. This place is special, I tell myself, this place will be there forever for me even when I'm old, or even when I'm far away over the seas. Then I see other people on that same path too. Lovers sharing a kiss, runners, rollerbladers, pedestrians. I tell myself, this place is special for them too. We should keep this place. But then I realize, that this place is special in a different way for me, than for them. This place is worth keeping only if I'm alive, and only for my particular reasons, my personal memories. And to them too, the value of this park is in the mornings and evenings they spend on it. In my youth, East Coast Park was a far far far place my dad went to practice his golf swings, and they had a McDonalds there. That was it, nothing more.
It's when you realize that value in your own eyes comes with knowing the place. It's then that you learn to forgive those breaucrats who destroy nature for the sake of economic progress, or to build more McDonalds. For them, they've never been to Chek Jawa, they've never been to East Coast Park, they've never really approached a place with their hearts open, and experience it. Every place in the world is unique. It's a place that has been around for millions of years. It's a place that has a soul, that can teach us things, that can give us immortal memories. When we destroy a place and build over it, we create a functional space yes, but devoid of soul. Our HDB flats, our MRT stations. I wouldn't miss them. But take away my seashore, take away my sunshine, where then am I to go? Where then can I cycle to?
I've already reached the end. I turn around and start for the other end. Strange, I don't feel tired, I don't feel sick, and I don't feel out of breath. I don't even remember cycling so far. But I'm already here.
I used to joke with my ma that I'm going out to "walk" my bike, cos she wouldn't let me have pets in the house, like a cat or a dog. I like pets. If I had a pet, I wouldn't bother with people. People are all so same. So tasteless. Of course, I do meet a few really invigorating people, and these are the people I love for life. But pets... pets are different. Each pet is just so friendly, so nice, and so eager to please. Although I may not understand their language, but with feeling, with pure affection, you understand their character better than any friend I've made so far. Why know someone who's going to walk his/her own path in life, away from you, when you can get to know a pet, who'll walk WITH you, throughout his/her life.
I realized soon enough, that today my bike walked me. It was bringing me through the places in my memory. It was showing me, life as an animal, life as an object. The simple life. Only eyes, ears, and wheels. I saw.
I saw with my eyes, saw day turn into night, saw people going home, saw cooking fires, and kids out having a good time. I saw the shore, from gold to ashen black. I saw the sea, from blue to grey with bits of sliver.
I saw with my mind, the long paddle that took half a day to get from paddleculture to the place where I was, saw friends, boats, sea. Saw the horizon, swarming with ships. Saw unimaginable depth below, and sure that even if I fell in soup, I had the skills to come back up, away from the jaws of death. I saw a barbecue with my CCA mates, which I came really late for, I saw midnight movie, then bus to VJ, the urge to just climb over the gates and walk one round around the school that I miss. The sunrise with friends. The many many many sunrises with friends.
I saw with my ears, the constant static of the sea waves, the constant energy. Deposition, removal, deposition again. I saw the wind whistling by. Snippets of a conversation, the sounds of cars, of civilization just to my right. I felt the wind get cold, giving me strength, I felt the ground below me hump, felt my bum thump.
I felt alive.
