Quest for Solitude

I read two things lately that have struck me as significant.

The first is an online essay about the qualities of an introvert: apparently, introverts are quiet because their brains are hardwired to absorb a lot of information all at once and do not need the same degree of external stimulation as an extrovert, lest they become overwhelmed with all the sensory data they are picking up.

The other is the recent news that Volkswagen has begun a trial 2012 programme in which the company servers will stop delivering emails to selected employees ‘ Blackberries after office hours, allowing these executives to have better control of their work-life balance instead of being on call 24/7.

How do these two articles relate to me? I find comfort that there is a possible physical explanation for my introverted personality. I am what I am because I cannot go beyond the limits of what nature has given me. So why be pressured to be a social butterfly if I can’t be one in the first place? And part of the reason why I am a writer is because of this introverted side of me that allows me to reflect and articulate those thoughts into words on paper or on the screen.

The Volkswagen announcement illustrates another concern of mine. There are so many things (necessary and unnecessary) that one has to attend to in this modern day and age: Work is all-consuming, Family and Household Chores are always demanding, Friends need catching up with, Facebook and other online pursuits are calling…  Whether you are an introverted personality or not, it is hard to find and spend quality Me-time to groom yourself, to sit and reflect and, if you are a writer, to write… It takes a mighty conscious effort to organise your schedule and switch off the outside world and focus inward.

During this past December, I spent two happy weeks not thinking of anything else except my writing and I completed two short stories. We will see in the next few months as the demands of 2012 grows whether I can continue this serendipitous streak of creativity… Think OHMM… Feel OHMM… Be OHMM…

‘Tis the Season…

In my younger days, I could stride into shops, battle for hours with the crowd to get the best deals and emerge happy and contented.

Gone are those times.

Last Sunday, I went looking for my last Christmas presents. I entered only one mall. One department store, two shops and two hours later, I had bought the necessary, but I was entirely drained out.

To recover, I found a cafe. I sat down, had a cup of green tea and pondered.

On one hand, I was sad: I had to admit I am no longer a spring chicken and I’ve lost my shopping stamina to search for bargains and withstand the frenzy of the crowds.

On the other hand, I wondered whether all my efforts had been worthwhile. Would the people whom I had shopped for really appreciate the gifts that I had bought them? Or would they just nod and smile pleasantly when receiving their presents and then later stuff the things unused into a cupboard to be re-gifted or sent to the Salvation Army later?

Such thoughts then led me to consider how materialistic all of us living in modern society are. Our actual needs aside, we are told by advertising that our lives will not be perfect unless we acquire XYZ, we help fuel the economy by buying what it says we need, we are given stuff that people think we need, we work towards achieving what we desire, we bury ourselves with things that we imagine we need.

When he was still alive, my father was a serial hoarder of junk. He inundated the entire house that my family was living in then with anything from car parts to cheap fourth-hand clothing from Sungei Road. I am not as bad as he. Nevertheless, I still collect certain things: for instance, books. I already possess more books than I will probably read in my lifetime, and I’m still buying and running out of space to store them, despite yearly attempts to cull my collection.

We could all probably exist happily with less. But whether we really desire to live with less and thereby reduce clutter, wastage and our carbon footprint — that is the key. So during this season of giving and gifting, I will mull over the following:

- Throughout history, there have been people, the religious/ascetic types, who have given up material comfort to live simply and focus their lives on meditation and other spiritual pursuits.

- Not long ago, I read online about medical studies in India being done an ancient yogi who is able to survive just on breathing and has not eaten or drunk anything for many years.

- A few years ago, I also read about some Western artist who decided to make a symbolic statement by giving/selling all his material possessions away and burning what he could not to restart life afresh with only the clothes on his back.

Perhaps these examples will inspire me to reduce, reuse, recycle more. Perhaps not… An iPad calls, even though I have two laptops and many notebooks to write on…

Merry Christmas, World…

The ‘F’ Word: Thoughts about Use and Abuse

On Thursday evenings, I have to send my mother to church. About 3 hours later, I have to pick her up. In the interim, I arrange meetings with other people or do stuff on my own (e.g. have dinner, do grocery shopping, sit at a fast food joint and read/mark assignments).

Not so long ago, I was quietly sitting by myself at Subway one such Thursday night, nursing an ice lemon tea and trying desperately to mark exam papers to meet a deadline.

Four young men, all friends in their late teens or early twenties, sat at the next table to eat their sandwiches. With typical exaggerated bravado of that testosterone-filled age group, the four were posturing and chatting away loudly about their respective activities and concerns.

I cannot remember the exact content of their discussion. The main thing that drew my attention to them was not so much the level of the noise they were making, but the words that were coming out, especially from one particular young man.

Practically in every other statement that this young man was making, the ‘f’ word in all its grammatical ramifications would pop out. Every 30 seconds or so, he would say the ‘f’ word as liberally as Singlish speakers can pepper their speech with ‘lahs’.

The prudish matron in me wanted to stand up, confront the young man about his public crudity and demand that he be more careful and courteous to others. Unfortunately, caution stepped in. What impact would a stranger really make on the future behaviour of this young man? So I did what most Singaporeans do: minded my own business.

However, the writer/presentation skills aspect of me was appalled by this young man’s mindless usage of one of the strongest words in the English vocabulary. Please understand: I am not against using the ‘f’ word: in fact, I do use it occasionally, and usually to release some kind of heightened emotion at a particularly vexing moment (and usually muttered to myself). If said so casually like the young man did, the word loses its potency with overuse.

I pitied the poor range of this young man’s vocabulary. Imagine when the occasion warrants genuine swearing, what sort of words could the young man use anymore? “F’… “F, F”… “F, F, F”??? How absolutely bland…

Then my imagination ran wild. If only the caregivers of this youth had exercised discipline when he was younger and literally scrubbed his mouth out with a toilet brush every time he uttered the ‘f’ word, perhaps he would have been instilled with better manners and a higher respect for using words appropriately.