none are more hopelessly enslaved
Lately I've been thinking a lot about freedom, seeing as how I have none of it. Not that I'm complaining, because that would make me one of those people who pile their days with activities and then whine that they have no time. Nor am I boasting about my important busyness, which is what the whiny people are actually doing, of course.
What I'm doing is wondering why I don't want to be free.
Because we all have a choice, really. Every day we trade in some freedoms for others - the freedom to wake up at noon, for instance, for the freedom to have money to spend. The freedom to say anything you want for the freedom to go about your business with no one whispering behind your back. The freedom to eat uninhibitedly for the freedom of being skinny. Those are the primary tradeoffs - so mandatory, so easily rationalised, you forget you ever had a choice.
What about the smaller ones? The freedom of underperformance forfeited for the impossible satisfaction of being a perfectionist. The freedom of anonymity given up for the desire to stand out. The freedom of ignorance lost in the compulsion to have an opinion.
(My fiance believes that only the Joker, with his unencumbered ways and unhinged mind, is truly free. But is even that true? People who are genuinely mad are trapped in a world that makes no sense to normal people. Those who pretend to be mad already admit their constraints with their facepaint and oversized personalities. The Joker exists only because Batman does; his explosion on the scene is permitted because Gotham "deserves a better class of criminal" to offset the better class of law enforcement. His self-identification as Batman's nemesis is his biggest limitation - if Batman were to disappear off the edge of the earth, the Joker's licentiousness would lose its meaning.)
Obviously, very few of us are free. (I won't say "none", curbed as I am by my need to maximise accuracy.) We're afraid of what we would do if we were really free to do anything we wanted; or worse, of realising that we really have nothing better to do after all. Perhaps the best we can hope for is a person, or a place, or an activity, that lets us act as freely as we want to. It could be, after all, that only by sensing our boundaries can we know what it's like to be free.
posted by zyn ::
9:41 PM ::
6 Comments ::
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the light at the end
The last three weeks since I got back from Japan have been really stressful, and the worst part is I feel a lot of it was self-induced. Apart from the whole getting married buying house booking hotel ahhh which dress ahhhh etc, I had to deal with bizarre family meltdowns and full-time national day stories. Fortunately the bulk of the national day work is over, my family has gone back to normal (or so it seems), and for everything else, I have really good friends and an amazing fiance.
In fact, the highlights of my last few weeks have been realising anew what great friends I have - people who aren't afraid to tell me if they think I'm making a mistake and yet are willing to support me through my ultimate decision. And even above and beyond that, friends who don't even question, but trust that I know what I'm doing. Friends who are genuinely happy to help with whatever I may need, on whom I can truly rely. For that I am sincerely, humbly, eternally grateful.
Getting married has also opened up a whole new world, particularly on the bridal forums, where people seem to have invented their own language: "When is ur AD? Which BS u use? HTB say only MTM, no OTR. PG haben choose yet." OMGWTFBBQPOLARBEAR.
Ok hubby is looking over my shoulder. GTG. You snooze, you lose!!
posted by zyn ::
1:11 AM ::
3 Comments ::
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the story
It's about time I write it down.
We're in a little town just outside of Kanazawa. The date is June 23, 2008 - Day 12 of what has been the best holiday we've taken together. (We've been on a lot of holidays, actually: Sydney, HK, Taiwan - and that's just in the last 12 months.) The town is an onsen town, and there is nothing to do but onsen. Dutifully, we onsen. At least, I onsen, and Shiyao takes photos. Onsen onsen onsen, photo photo photo until dinnertime, whereupon we retire to our little room and I plonk myself down on the only real chair in the room. Everything else is tatami mat. I'm not a big fan of tatami mats. They leave lines on your butt.
Dinner arrives, a feast of fish so fresh it was wriggling five seconds ago. I happily stuff my face while Shiyao, as usual, takes photos. After dinner, there is nothing to do. Too roly-poly to move, I suggest we stay in and watch Fullmetal Alchemist on his laptop the whole night! Yay! But Shiyao has other plans. He wants to take a walk and catch the sunset. Slightly reluctantly, I say okay.
Thinking that we're walking around the block, I agree to stroll out dressed in nothing but our yukatas (dressing gowns) and slippers. Five blocks later, we're heading towards the pier with no doubling back in sight. Shiyao is on a photo roll - at first I'm game, but as it grows dark, it gets cold, and scary on the pier with sinister black sea merging into ominous black sky. For some reason, he keeps pointing to this luxury hotel next to the pier, with what must be stupendous waterfront views, and saying: "Aiyah we should have stayed there; there so nice!" After I reassure him several times that I love our little tatami-matted onsen hotel, I give him a kiss and head to a nearby, inland, well-lit bench, in what turns out to be "park" called Waku-waku.
It is, therefore, to Waku-waku Park that Shiyao returns from his photo excursion, and it is at Waku-waku Park that he takes out a ring. I've turned my back to pack up his camera, and from behind me he says: "There's one more thing." I turn around - and there it is, dazzling in the dark, sparkling with successful surprise. At this point my memory fails me. Reportedly I say: "Is this a joke?", followed by "Are you sure?" several times. Finally, slightly exasperated, he convinces me that he's serious (he'd bought the ring two weeks ago and asked my parents for permission the night before we left), and as he gets down on one knee I say a sniffly yes.
posted by zyn ::
10:20 AM ::
4 Comments ::
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property agents are stupid
Agent: This project is walking distance to Boon Keng MRT.
Me: Where exactly is this project located?
Agent: Oh.. St Michael's Road.
Me: That's not walking distance.
Agent: I don't know if you are familiar with St Michael's Road?
Me: Yes, I am.
Agent: Erm this project is just behind One St Michael's, so you walk to the main road take you three minute, walk to the MRT station from the main road take you about five minute.
Me: No, I've walked from One St Michael's and it takes at least 10 minutes to get to the station.
Agent: Depend on how fast you walk. For me, I walk quite fast. Because life is fast-paced. For us, for property agents, we must walk fast.
Me: ....
You can have all these grand predictions about when the market is going to fall and make big plans to buy at the low point, but the truth is, when you have to buy, you have to buy. Just close your eyes and pick a freehold project, next to an MRT station, in an area near to the city with some upside potential. We're going to see One Leicester on Sunday, hopefully that's the answer!
posted by zyn ::
10:54 AM ::
2 Comments ::
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he asked, and i said yes
Okay I think I've told everyone I need to tell personally, so now it's time to tell the world: I'm engaged to the guy I love! Could this really be the happy ending they speak of in fairytales? It gets easier to believe each day.
Of course it's really only the beginning - of the house hunt, the in-law problems, the rest of our lives. But I think we can do it, together.
Most optimistic post ever!
posted by zyn ::
11:58 PM ::
1 Comments ::
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