What Are Words

Guess I've got no time to be dithering over the value of words when I've got a personal statement to construct/put together/fabricate. Thinking about it now though, I'm probably a lot more direct in my thinking than I ever was back in school. Or maybe not hehe. My brain works in pretty odd ways. I spend ages thinking about the right thing to say, then in the end decide that it's way too generic and mainstream and end up saying something else instead, stuffing the proverbial foot in my mouth. And it's not even the right foot! This self-sabotage really has to stop, eh?

But seriously, what are words? Cause I just can't resist. It's the time of the night when words flow freely yet mean nothing at all, which is why I'm refraining from working on it till the dawn of the cruel light of day. Night, that's a time to sort through jumbled thoughts and emotions, rearranging them in different ways, that may or may not be noticeably organized.

Much like anyone else, excepting those certifiable vegetables, and many non-certified ones out there, many thoughts course through my head throughout the day, some which I wish to convey, some which I don't. For lack of a better means, this unenviable task falls upon the ever so ubiquitous words, which more often than not, I find horribly limited. Set aside the irony that it's those self-same words which I'm employing right now. There's no other choice, you see. I think in words, holding those long internal dialogues (or is a better term monologues? I wouldn't want to imply that I'm suffering from split personalities, which Wiki kindly informs me is known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID for short) which spiral on and on, downwards or upwards nobody knows. Sometimes I wonder privately, a far-more-than-lingering suspicion that this mental framework of words severely limits my mental capabilities. If by force of habit I think in words, is the speed of my thoughts only as fast as these words can be selected and put together into a semblance of rationality? If I can only process things in words, is my ability to understand new stimuli and input limited by the words with which I have at hand to describe and ascribe certain characteristics to? And if these words, in their recalcitrance, refuse to come to me, and I find myself not only speechless but completely and utterly flabbergasted (now that's a word I've been wanting to use) am I then completely hapless? I apologize if the above paragraph sounds more than a little insane, it's been brewing for awhile now, and what started off as a seemingly perfectly good idea to be developed on has now grown out of hand, and yet I, as it's originator, much like how Frankenstein probably couldn't bear to get rid of his monster till it had offed a couple of people, just can't bear to euthanize it.

Very often I have difficulty expressing myself (in dark moments I wonder if maybe it's because I'm devoid of anything to express) the thoughts too heavy for words to bear. Yet words are such easy things to give and receive in so many forms, what then are they truly worth? Far be it from me to disregard words from the heart, but it's honestly so hard sometimes. Strange then that despite questioning their worth, that I could be hurt so by just a couple of words, flippantly delivered. When the message sent differs from that which is received, should that be considered the greatest travesty or a blessing, well disguised?

Then there are those moments so pure words simply do them no justice, that in the mere retelling they are inexplicably diminished; these I recall with nostalgia, joy tinged with regret, for come again in self-same form they won't, rewind the clock I can't, and even memories don't last forever. I remember a time almost two years back, day spent head buried in words and more words, the minutes timelessly passing by, and afterwards, making the trip home. The air cool, traffic light, a detour gladly taken. The fog lifts and words depart on the stroll home, passing by the set of bars and deciding on a whim to pull myself up, towards that gap between the foliage overhead and the full moon peeking through, up and down, over and over, each attempt to reach out and grasp it giddily fulfilling but ultimately unsuccessful. As I near home, the neighbor's dog barks; I shush it as I pass, step through the gate, and the moment is over. Of passing out in September, that charge down the street, all of us, wordless growls emanating from our throats, so fresh to the chevrons, pride, achievement, all that didn't really matter, just the immediacy of release. Moments I now recall as a pile of snapshots, and yet the words come in, as they invariably do. I don't really know how to describe this, but think of it this way: When you name something, does the object describe the name, or the name the object? It may be the former, initially, but as memory fills up, all that's left are words, words ascribed yet which aren't a perfect fit, can't be a perfect fit, and something crucial is irrevocably lost. Best then that these moments be given the varnish of time and held at arm's length. Look too closely and you may not like what you see. Best also, as we humans are creatures of time. We can't live simultaneously in past, present and future, though some would like to think otherwise, and onwards we must go.

I'm tired, and till now no closer to answering or even exploring the question. There's probably never to be an answer, and I suppose I've revealed enough mental instability for one day, or possibly a lifetime, you never know. I could end of with a list of things words are, which is basically a whole bunch of contradictions, and at another time, I guess I would have, but enough with the coulds and mays and whatnot, I simply will end, in the laziest and most basal of ways; in eponymous rhetoric:

What are words? Thank you.

A lack of Brevity

Note to self: It'd be pretty ironic if I were to ever be involved in a Public Service Announcement about self-medication

Been feeling sick the whole weekend, I've been sleeping much of the day and have the bed hair to prove it. Productivity's minimal as I can't concentrate through this cloudiness in my head.

Poor me. Now that I'm done with the self-pity, let's move on to less trivial issues, shall we?

The early hours of 8th May 2011, a wide-awake nation listened with bated breathe as the ever-so-implacable Returning Officer read out in his deadening monotone the results for the final constituency. It was a close fight, a difference of little more than a hundred votes. And it marked the end of the most hotly contested General Elections in recent Singapore history.

Dubbed a watershed election, the results did not fail to disappoint, as the opposition finally managed to wrest control of a GRC away from the ruling party. The swing of votes towards the opposition, in response to the sympathetic, honeyed voices of their candidates seem to echo the nation's desire for a change in Singapore's political scene, and have given the party in power much to reflect upon.

A new era is upon us, or so it would seem. The obvious ramifications of this on the future of our nation aside, what really excites me is the hitherto unseen levels of citizen participation and involvement during these elections. Online discussion was rife, perhaps in part due to the influx of young voters, who made up one fifth the electorate. The rally turnouts have been nothing short of impressive, and as you stand there on the field, listening to the roar of the crowd, and occasionally overhearing the comments of individuals, you just know that no longer can we Singaporeans be said to be a bunch of politically apathetic folks. (Well at least now all us GP students have one more point to use in those essays)On a personal level, those canteen discussions we've been having the past few weeks have been really exciting, and I've never been so motivated to read the papers in my whole life, eager to keep up to date with the latest happenings. At home, the debate was furious, as some of the staunch PAP supporters amongst us suddenly found ourselves having to deal with an opposition advocate in our midst.

Much has been said about the crediility of this year's candidates, quite possibly epitomized by the WP's 'A' team which succesfully snatched Aljunied GRC by a sizeable margin, ousting Foreign Minister George Yeo from Parliament. The GRC system is an uniquely odd one, satirized most aptly, perhaps by a post on MM Lee's (presumably false) Twitter feed: "There should be one GRC with 87 seats." A system with the supposed intention of encouraging campaigning on multiracial platforms but also one which everyone knows was meant to ensure the continuity of PAP rule. But this time round, it has cost the PAP dearly. To be populist about it, was getting the likes of one Ms Tin Pei Ling into Parliament worth the sacrifice of a highly competent Minister who has served both loyally and well for so long?

I earnestly hope that this is a question the PAP ponders upon when the time comes for the next round of elections in 5 years time, rather than accusing the opposition of giving residents an emotional dilemma by fielding all their most competent candidates in the same GRC. Furthermore, victory margins are narrowing, I'm pretty sure the PAP doesn't want to lose more of its capable Ministers; which regardless how you slice it, IS a significant loss to our country.

All things said and done, life goes on. Our newly triumphant opposition MPs will have to prove that they can not only talk the talk, but also walk the walk as we embark upon a new chapter in Singapore politics, lest MM Lee's prophetic sounding Doomsday condemnation on the residents of Aljunied GRC were to really come true X) I dread to think what that particular outcome might herald for opposition politics in the future.

We shall see. And by then, I'll be of voting age, and will judge their success (or failure) for myself ;)