podeam

Nyaa.

“I hate ugly people, and I hate Singapore.”

A statement that got me utterly fuming mad; I am a Singaporean boy, through and through (note how I skilfully draw attention away from the ugly bit of the statement?).

Of course, each person is entitled to their own opinion. Each person is entitled the right to have their own say.

It doesn’t mean that each person isn’t going to be bloody stupid.

A matter of nationalistic identity came up today – A claim that the Singaporean lack of Singaporean-ness is due to the youth of the nation was made. Apparently, it is due to that youth that our youth lack nationalism.

This may be very true, but I resent the sentiment that the Singaporean youth is apathetical and foolish. True, we’re mostly bloody stupid (as mentioned) most of the time, but we’re not necessarily really all that bad.

93.8 Live has scheduled a forum on Friday, 25th Nov, from nine to ten in the morning. The topic? The Singaporean Youth lacks the edge to compete in the global market (or something along that line; the exact wording eludes me).

Isn’t that predictable?

The Singaporean Youths’ Apathy and Kantang-ness is a common denominator, as is the Not-So-Youths’ constant belabouring of the point.

And they say Singapore has no culture.

I must admit there are a large number of, let’s call them culturally parallel imported youths. They were born in New Jersey, really; they somehow ended up in Semei, or Yishun, or wherever else – the proud proclaimer of the statement at the beginning of this is a case in point. With their faux -American/-English/-French/-Other-Vaguely-White Accents, their sole purpose in life is to get to another country and stay there for ever and ever and ever.

Not all of us are determined to leave, though. People mistake my Singaporean-ness for something laudable. It’s sheer arrogance, really.

No matter where I go in the world, or how much time I spend there, I’ll always be a Singaporean. It’s something I can’t change. Why would I want to be part of something that doesn’t belong to me? Where I would never really fit in?

I refuse to be seen as second-rate in anything, be it in achievement, or citizenship.

I do look outwards to the world, though. Embracing other cultures, other ideas, other ideals, I see what it is I want for me, and I will make it so here.

We are, after all, traders by heritage.

We have learnt, through sheer dint of determination to survive, to want the best goods. The best grades, the best schools, the best standards of living. And I make no apologies for that; I am Kiasu.

I also want the best things society can offer, right here for me. I want them in my home.

After all, it’s kind of crazy, but we win other country.

Yes, I’m aware this is the five millionth thing I’ve written on this topic, but I can’t help myself. Really.

I am Singaporean

The meme that started here and is tagged on Technorati as iamsingaporean

Download here (save target as).

I was told that my Mother Tongue (with the capital letters) is Tamil. I have had twelve years of formal education in the language – yes, I went for night classes when I was four and five because my kindergarten didn’t offer the language. I still can’t come up with a coherent sentence off the calf. Of course, I have also heard all forms of Singaporean-Chinese-Tamil. “Aprugush, anneh” And I’ve had all forms of coconut tree jokes and disappearing in the dark jokes thrown at me. And I laugh and laugh and laugh when people proudly proclaim that Singapore isn’t racist.

I saw this poster today, advertising locally produced goat milk. My first thought was: “Wah, there are actual live goats in Singapore? Goats not meant for ritualistic sacrifice?” Then I realised Singapore even had cows. I had been to a cow farm here when I was younger. As part of a field-trip. Or rather, excursion. It was for geeky little kids with high IQs in Mensa. I still am geeky. As I did this, I thought of what an excellent assignment it would make for my Audio Production class.

I complain about governance and media stifling and the atrocious prices of pizza. As long as no one in white is in ear-shot. Scared lah. I used to be gung-ho about changing Singapore. I now no longer talk explicitly about politics in the blog.

Thing is, I am still gung-ho. I figure, if aunties and uncles can still queue up for hours on end for years on end in the hope that the last four numbers of their childhood sweetheart’s phone number would one day make them insanely rich, I too can hold on to my dream.

Just last week, I got all indignant when a Filipino online-friend said that his national anthem was the prettiest in the world. Never mind that I complained about singing it every morning for ten years, I typed out “Majulah Singapura” for him. I downloaded the song and added it to my iTunes. I gave him the link, and made him listen to it. The fever spread to the pledge, and that too was shoved down his throat. Ours mah; even if I don’t like, cannot let it lose to other people. Even so, I didn’t dare use the national anthem for this. Later considered disrespectful use, damn suay.

I sent him my entire collection of national day songs: Where I Belong, Stand Up For Singapore, We Are Singapore, and four different versions of Home. These songs all make me fiercely proud. They make my heart flutter, and make me want to run out and buy those mini-flags, you know, the ones filled with candy. They made me write something once that was quoted in the newspapers for national day. Of course, they also quoted me as being a woman.

I am Vicnan Karuppiah Pannirselvam.
I have heard too many mispronunciations in my name.
Most Singaporean documents curtail its last two letters: twenty-five characters only, please.

I blog under the umbrella “Podeam”. And I’m male.

I am Singaporean.

So say we all.

So say we all.

Singapore Media

It is not the role of journalists or newspapers in Singapore to champion issues, or campaign for or against the Government. If a columnist presents himself as a non-political observer, while exploiting his access to the mass media to undermine the Government’s standing with the electorate, then he is no longer a constructive critic, but a partisan player in politics.

I’m sure you’ve read about it. There are no words.

May Sixth draws near

‘Why My Vote Matters’. So many people, so much time, so many questions, so few Questions.

If you don’t care about the way you live your life, the way you have live_ed_ your life, and the way you will live your life, what do you care about?

Political non-apathy isn’t the rah-rah-ring onscreen, and the using of “unlevel playing field” as many times as humanly possible.

If I had a penny for every time I heard that I-you-we need not care about politics, I’d have very many pennies. And just bout as much use, having very many pennies in Singapore.

I’d much rather not have pennies at all.

Teens aren’t fools (well, some of us aren’t, anyway). We are not necessarily unaware. I find it hard to believe amongst us there are people who are unaware of our illustrious minister mentor. Even if for no other reason than Social Studies.

Very much aware, aware of the faults in the system, aware of migration policies, aware of the Grass on the Other Side. Not because it is necessarily Greener, but because it is on the Other Side.

Everyone wants the opposition to win. Just in other constituencies. We like our lifts very much. Those of us who have them, anyway.

We want opposition. Not Opposition, but opposition. Competitive opposition.

–

I’ve been asked if I want to enter politics. That if I feel so strongly about governance, I’m on the wrong track.

Sometimes I wonder. But I wouldn’t enter politics, even if only because my being me could possibly detract from what it is I hope to achieve; unless our society changes very drastically, I could end up doing more harm than good.

racial brouhaha

Today’s Today (times like this, I wish the tabloid had a different name) carried this article on a new programme by the government to foster closer racial ties.

Said Associate Professor Paulin Straughan, a National University of Singapore sociologist: “One question we must ask ourselves — do we just co-exist harmoniously and get along with each other, without really knowing and understanding each other?

Yes, indeed, there need be better socio-racial cohesion within Singapore; what we have isn’t so much racial acceptance but racial tolerance intermingled with racial indifference. We get along perfectly fine with our neighbours because on most part, we pretend that they too are Chinese/Malay/Indian/Eurasion/Others (as seen on various paperwork). This may be useful in the prevention of racial tension, but is it beneficial in the long run?

It is ironic? sad? amusing? that a later article in the very same edition of Today carried a side-bar (which was not reproduced in the online edition, as far as I see) which contained the following:

A common mistake that Asian women make is blindly choosing foundation shades in ivory tones. As our skin tends to be more yellowish (...)

Woman I may not be (despite claims by Digital Life), but I tried looking for the yellow tint that required shades of ochre; nay, all I found in various reflective surfaces were shades brown.

Petty it may be, lumping Asians under the umbrella term “Oriental” erks me; I am Asian, but I’m not of far-eastern (japan/china, not orchard) heritage. And if the word refers not to that select group of people, why the blanketing of Asian women with small eyes and single eye-lids as done by the same piece? Yet another article in the same issue mentioned the large assets of Indian women (eyes, of course).

This ignoring of cultural identity simply resonates of worse things to come; sure, I’m glad you don’t ostracise me because I’m Indian (and incase you were wondering, I am Indian), but I resent the fact you accept me because you forget I’m Indian.

Many a time people around me lapse into speaking Mandarin. When I object, they do apologise; ‘tis the apology “Oh, we forgot you’re Indian” which rankles.

It is true that I don’t want racial discrimination, it would be insane to wish for that. What I hope for though, is racial distinction. We are not all the same; ignoring that fact in a superficial attempt at “racial harmony” simply lets misconceptions brew beneath the surface.

It is extremely difficult to understand the rationale behind others’ customs and beliefs – superimposing our own expectation on them simply exacerbates the situation. Instead of expecting similarities between you and I, seek instead the differences; similarities may crop up, but if they don’t, it wouldn’t negate your understanding of the other. I guess racial education should begin with clean slates; over-emphasising similarities (as perhaps is done in classrooms) in an attempt to foster that harmony would simply alienate unfamiliar practices when contradistinctions occur.

Eduwhatsits

A rare find. One I would be wont to frequent.

Is it not plain to the eye what is so wrong with this situation? In the course of teaching tuition, countless parents have implored me for advice on which through-train system to choose, which qualification will be best (IB? NUS? GCE? ABC? DEF? STD?) for their child. And my answer is always unequivocal: It. Doesn’t. Matter.It doesn’t matter simply because none of these changes have been made for the good of your child. None of these “improvements” have been made in the interests of your child’s welfare, nor his education, nor his happiness in life.

the goldie spoke

A friend wrote this; I’m just archiving it here, for I can’t figure out if he has an archival system in place.

its real, the pain you feel, you die to heal

He (i.e. in general, both genders)

Everyone has their own share of problems and shit loads…. some known some unknown…. one thinks that he has to put a facade in order to be acknowledged by his “friends”, the taboo of being labelled as an ‘outcast’, ‘freak’, ‘geek’, ‘queer’,’mad’...

little does he know that everyone in his social circle has their very own hurdles that they are struggling to overcome….

He is a poseur… trying to be something he is not….. to get the attention and the ‘acceptance’

He goes home, lost, wondering how he had done that day, the pretence, well played?

He is on a roller coaster….

some days overjoyed

some days the window just seems so tempting

he thinks ” i die to heal”

stupidity…..

“how long more can i keep this up, its pain,its real, my life, its purpose?”

he ponders, brushes it off, and the next day goes back to his routine…

shear wasted time

...............................................................


i only long for the day when we can just rip the paint coats we wear daily to school, to work, at home, to wherever

the day where everyone is naked and unafraid….

their problems….. solved

where our mistakes will be overlooked, but our potential focused on

then maybe we will live happily ever after….

if only we begin to see the bigger picture…

or maybe have an encounter with the big man…...

GOD.

Stop contemplating, have faith, trust in the ABBA father to pull ya through

Surrender yourself to him

you are not alone

we all hurt as much as you do

we dont understand? try us…..

look for someone to talk to…

havent you spend long enough in the shit hole?

release…..

I don’t know.. but this post affected me. Did I like it? I’m not sure. All I know is that it made my heart catch for a while. I read it, and re-read it.

Spare the rod, call the.. cops?

A 5-year girl old got arrested.

A 5-year-old girl was arrested, cuffed and put in back of a police cruiser after an outburst at school where she threw books and boxes, kicked a teacher in the shins, smashed a candy dish, hit an assistant principal in the stomach and drew on the walls.

“She’s been appropriately disciplined under the circumstances,” he said.

At first, I was shocked. Was I missing something? They actually called the cops on a little girl who was having a tantrum?

Then I started thinking about all the tantrums thrown by Singaporean brats little angels; all too obvious everywhere.

At these times, I honestly feel like calling the cops on the parents.

I think you’d have experienced what I mean. The way some look as if it’s their divine right to have their off-spring bawling their titchy lungs out, and pounding their fists on the floor a public library.

And we actually need more children around. Heh.

Interview

I was so, totally out of place.

I refuse to say that I was over-dressed. Good heavens. It would be one of the most important occasions in your life to make a good impression, the interview to a course you’re dying to go to.

So why the t-shirts, blue-jeans, and slippers?!

I was just about the only one wearing shoes. for goodness’ sake.

What is it with my peers (in years, if nothing else)?

It’s really as if they’re still expecting a cloistered environment, where you don’t have to fight tooth-and-nail for opportunitities! It’s discouraging, really.

Our education system sure has succeeded in spitting out un-thinking sheep.

baaa