milestone: at the age of 20

Saturday, May 31, 2008 T: 13 11

Sometimes, it’s only when you take a look at the people around you will you realize time ‘blinks’. Suddenly, you seem to find yourself in another instance of time. You can only vaguely remember how you get there, the process, but when you attempt to pinpoint the details, you can’t seem to find them.

When I finally stop and look around myself, I see my friends getting married, having children, climbing up the career ladders, pursuing their dreams. Today, one just reminded that he has been married for over a year, and his child is already a year old. It’s puzzling isn’t it, how time seems to move slower for singles, for people who center their lives on themselves. I’m twenty, and I still seem to be surprised at that fact. I haven’t seem to come to terms with the fact that the first digit of my age no longer beings with a 1. Somehow, I have that feeling that it means a lot. I guess it signifies the beginning of the age of independence. It reminds me of the need to be mature, to be able to take things on my own. It is about reaching the end of a main road and then figuring out which path to take, or even creating a path of my own. It is a time when possibilities seem to be endless, when whatever dreams, goals that I have begin to take their shapes. Yet in the face of that huge, almost infinite number of choices, I’m not exactly spoilt for choice. I’m lost, and still finding a way.

When I’m alone on the train, in the bus, in public, I like to do some people-watching on my own. I like observing the aged, the adults, the kids, the infants… I enjoy seeing the interaction between people, the closeness of a father and son, the constant reprimanding from a mother to her child, the extraordinary intimacy of a guy and girl who share no blood relations. I like to see the eyes of people who are alone by themselves. Some reflect exhaustion, that tiredness and lethargy. Others a certain boredom, nonchalance, and finally in kids almost always that excitement. As we grow old, did our eyes lose their sparkle, their glitter?

How nice would it be if I could view the world through the eyes of a toddler once again, with that same innocence and naivety, to be just like a month old kitten fresh out in the world, anxious to learn, curious and fascinated with everything! Humans tend to be easily bored by things, to lose interest and then to seek newer things. And in this society of the 21^st modern century, it’s almost in our nature to seek instant gratification. Many a times, I see myself overwhelmed by envy for others, and then desires for material wealth and riches. I would relish that 5 seconds of fantasies and ‘what ifs’, only then to check myself back to reality. In the end, that’s always that meaningless of it all. I mean, so what if I got a ‘BMW’, I would be longing for a convertible next. So what if I got a condo, I would be yearning for land on ground. So what if I got a girlfriend, or even a wife, I would be probably thinking of other women later. In the end, it is always an internal battle within myself to be happy with my status quo, to tell myself that for everything, it should always be function over beauty, function over the chance to show off. I don’t win every battle. Temptation has its cunning way of making one lose many, but at the very least, I hope I can stop at something. Maybe a Seiko over a Casio, but never a Rolex!

At the age of 20, it is about looking back in time to revisit as many incidents as possible, to reflect back on everything I’ve learnt thus far. It is about shaping a world view, an outlook to life. It is about creating an identity which would belong to myself, it’s about establishing my own ethical rules and moral standards that I could a bide to, a certain set of rules for myself. Somehow, that is more easily said. Because as I grow up, I have seen enough things in this world to know that they are seldom in black and white. It always depends on the perspective, the eyes from which you are looking at the issue. Me making it black or white would not be fair to either party. Movies like Crash affirm that. As a result, I find myself becoming more like a chameleon, unable to find a real self. That in a way might be an escapist’s solution, but I’ve survived. Whether in religion, in politics, in government, I constantly remind myself to put myself in as many different perspectives as possible. To problems that are grey in nature, mainly those related to religion and relationships, I do not wish to offer a judgement, to say who’s right and who’s wrong. I choose to offer different viewpoints, and let them decide for themselves what they want to do next. For myself, I’ve come to taught myself that there’s no standard or whatsoever I give set for myself, but rather to take things issue by issue, one a time. Sure this might leave a lot of things hanging there. It might not over be in line with what I want to believe MY Christian faith. No matter, I hope when I meet God, it’ll be without regrets.

A pessimist or an optimist? There are some who consider me a cynic. I’m a realist.

I’m not a grown-up; I’m still growing up. There are many things that I don’t know about, many things that I have not seen. Relationships remain a mystery, because it often involves a thing so great, a thing capable of lighting up lives and darkening others. Love, be it agape, phileos, eros, storge. I like to look at movies like Traffic, My Sassy girl etc. They are made not just to generate profits. But beyond that, the director wants to share a view-point, an opinion, and I want to be here to listen. At the age of twenty, I’m in this world to learn.

age

Monday, May 19, 2008 T: 16 42

I’m listening to Caritas, Share the love. I found it when I went through my things earlier in the morning. I think I have bought the cd when I was in sec 3. I was 15 then. Sometimes, I really need reminders that I have lived for 2 decades. Somehow, I still have not get used to the fact that my age begins with a 2 instead of a 1. But I think my body continues to assure me time and time again. My knees begin creaking, my stomach not often agreeing with the food I eat, my sight and perhaps even hearing gradually failing me. Perhaps it’s not really that obvious now, but I can’t really imagine what it’ll be like in another 50 years’ time. I have no idea what I’ll be doing then, no clue to guessing what my future will be like. I’ll probably be condemned to the wheelchair, maybe even the bed. I’ll be cursed by every damn passenger when I made my way up the bus. Worse, I’ll be losing my memories. In the past, I thought life is all about moving on. To hell with the past, and history can go rot for all I care. But how do you move on when you don’t know who you are?

When I walked to the bus-stop today, I passed an old man crushing cans with his feet. Each lifting up for his master foot seems to sap away half his life. I felt that certain pity welling deep within me. I wonder if I’ll end up like that too.

Has life any meaning? I often wonder about those people who in the olden days who can’t come to terms about their inevitable deaths. They strive to seek immortality, even killing to do so. Do they want to live because they fear death, or because life is that enjoyable?