Christmas celebrations are finally over for me.
It's been a rather busy week, with shopping, arcading, and visiting here and there, hence the lack of blogging. It's turning into a bad habit, but perhaps an inevitable one.
Earlier on, around the 20th, I was thinking that the return of my cousins to Singapore was something extremely important and my complete ambivalence towards it was terribly inappropriate. Today I realize thankfully that it is not a bad thing - ambivalence at times comes as a result of being used to a situation, as opposed to a state of I-could-care-less-if-it-doesn't-occur.
Christmas this year, however, ends up a time of transition for me: in religion, in life, in friends, in self. After Christmas celebrations, though, I now need to add another one to the list: in bartending. Apparently it is a role I play a bit too well, enough such that an uncle actually said that it would be ok if I skipped university and decided to be a full-time bartender. My thoughts on this in the future, perhaps. It is annoying enough to have to think of another set of drinks for the new year.
I spend the minutes into Christmas staring at the stars in the sky, listening to slow almost-melancholic instrumentals with my cousin. It feels almost like yesterday that she and I lied down on the grass and just talked about life, love, the future and the past. Two years collapse almost simultaneously for that short moment. I am extremely grateful for a cousin like that, for they come rarer than rubies. Perhaps I could say that I am truly close with no one else, but that's a rash statement and I'd not jump there just yet.
At this time my mind drifts back to the past, to her, to the lessons I've learnt and managed to carve out almost melodically in an analogy still silent to others. A time of life that I have already reconciled with; a past I have come to terms with and a self I have come to accept as truly 'me' without any regret.
The rest of this day I shall spend with friends; some new, some old, all precious. Not rarer than rubies, admittedly, but very much as valuable.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Resident Tourists
A smaller number of friends would know that I am quite a fan of drearyweary and their completed webcomic series, especially The Resident Tourist. I should spend a short bit of time talking about them.
The background's apparent enough if you look at their Stories page, but what I really found interesting was that it reflects a quickly developing identity that Singaporeans bear, yet is rarely reflected in Singaporean culture precisely because it is rarely found in Singaporean culture. Mr. Kiasu, Chew On It and the old Student Sketchpad (queer I should call it old since it's the most recent) reflect the more common identities of Singaporeans - the Kiasu/Kiasi/etc, the rather local traditional family, and the muggers of the Singaporean Education System.
The Resident Tourist, instead, deals with the ever-increasing Singaporean diaspora. An identity rarely explored in Singaporean comics because of a more serious treatment required when dealing with this, and also because it is technically less prevalent within Singapore itself (I mean, they would rarely be in Singapore, would they ._.)
And it's interesting because it's something rarely explored in a graphical medium, perhaps something just rarely explored at all. Interesting because it's highly personal yet very close to the hearts of readers outside of Singapore. There's a form of connectedness here that one appreciates.
I think speaking too much on this ends up making this feel very much like a literary review when it shouldn't be - I find that somewhat of a disgrace to works that were made to be appreciated rather than analyzed. But please, do read it. It is honestly a beautiful series.
The background's apparent enough if you look at their Stories page, but what I really found interesting was that it reflects a quickly developing identity that Singaporeans bear, yet is rarely reflected in Singaporean culture precisely because it is rarely found in Singaporean culture. Mr. Kiasu, Chew On It and the old Student Sketchpad (queer I should call it old since it's the most recent) reflect the more common identities of Singaporeans - the Kiasu/Kiasi/etc, the rather local traditional family, and the muggers of the Singaporean Education System.
The Resident Tourist, instead, deals with the ever-increasing Singaporean diaspora. An identity rarely explored in Singaporean comics because of a more serious treatment required when dealing with this, and also because it is technically less prevalent within Singapore itself (I mean, they would rarely be in Singapore, would they ._.)
And it's interesting because it's something rarely explored in a graphical medium, perhaps something just rarely explored at all. Interesting because it's highly personal yet very close to the hearts of readers outside of Singapore. There's a form of connectedness here that one appreciates.
I think speaking too much on this ends up making this feel very much like a literary review when it shouldn't be - I find that somewhat of a disgrace to works that were made to be appreciated rather than analyzed. But please, do read it. It is honestly a beautiful series.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Trust and Knowledge
An acquaintance commented to me once that there was some kind of trust lacking between another friend and I. She and I seemed to take an entirely different stance to this idea of trust.
The acquaintance said that trust was the idea of sharing, just sharing between two parties and belief in the other party to accept and take in whatever you say. I end up on the opposite spectrum compared to her in that I never talk about myself to others without absolute necessity. Along her line of logic, I would conclude that I trust people purely out of complete necessity and that I pretty much don't trust anyone at all.
I wonder something at this point. Does trust necessitate knowledge of a person? I would prefer a division between the two.
The overused statement "Why can't you tell me this? Don't you trust me?" serves as a very telling sign of the seemingly strong link between trust and knowledge of another person - the lack of one suggests the lack of the other. After all, talking to someone about issues personal to yourself is generally a strong sign of trust in the other - to view it objectively, you just gave information which can be used to blackmail yourself in the future, or used to betray and play on your emotions. That you give another the chance to do so has the implicit meaning that you believe he or she would not do this.
Going the other way round, if you don't share anything personal about yourself to others, it gives the impression that you're walling yourself from others and dare not entertain the thought of emotional betrayal. You do not trust the other party, simply put. It's a simple and clear link between the two. Surely, therefore, someone like me who shares so little with others could not possibly trust any of his friends!
Yet, by this exact same line of logic, you trust the people who stalk your facebook account. You trust the strangers who read your blog. You trust the readers of your articles.
You cannot say it is an involuntary giving of information - it is public domain and you should be perfectly aware of that (in fact, it's usually one of the more important reasons as to why you start a blog or write an article) You cannot say that it is an unintended audience - they are on your friendslist on facebook, and they are part of your readership on a blog or a newspaper. And obviously you would not say that you trust every man who stalks your facebook account, reads your blog and your articles. Therefore, knowledge isn't exactly a sufficient condition for trust.
Furthermore, the first definition of 'trust' on google (ultimate pandering to authority meh) goes as such: "have confidence or faith in", stating confidence or faith in another as a prerequisite for trust.
Why do you have confidence in someone? Because you know from previous experience that he or she will do something and do it in a particular way. This can be based off anything - past occurrences, personality, competence, but it is essentially an extrapolation of past experiences and basing that to give a particular conclusion about someone that you can trust. Knowledge is certainly important in this aspect.
Why do you have faith in someone, then? Because you do not have any logical reasoning to support your opinion that he or she will do something and do it in a particular way. The face of certainty without reasoning is one of faith, and is present in the absence of knowledge of the other party.
A simple conclusion then goes - knowledge of another person is neither a sufficient condition for trust, nor a necessary condition for trust. As commonly used a benchmark it is, it isn't the only one around.
All this said, then, begs a question: Why don't you tell other people about yourself, then? If you have reason to withold your personal life from another, is it not a sign of distrust? After all, I never did shoot down the argument that hiding stuff from another person was a sign of distrust. And indeed, that was the question asked to me in my conversation. The answer I gave was short, and perhaps needs elaboration. It was "because I didn't see the need to".
In my prior arguments I might give the impression that telling personal stuff to someone isn't a sign of trust. I don't stand by that and I do believe it is a sign of trust, but for other reasons. Talking about oneself tends to be an act of relief, a removal of a burden or an emotional cleansing. That you trust another person not to add another burden to you is the sign of trust between you and him, not the fact that you entrust him with personal worries and burdens.
It goes, then, that if I have no particular need to relieve myself of any emotional burdens I have (simply because I am not so burdened by them in the first place), there is no actual reason why I would talk to others about myself. They are - to put it rather bluntly - irrelevant to my worries, and asking them to listen to me at times adds a burden on them without actually making myself feel better at all. Rather illogical situation, wouldn't you say?
Furthermore, I do not believe that my keeping things to myself has caused others to distrust me as a result. I have good friends who say that they don't know me very much at all, and I believe with certainty that they trust me all the same. Likewise, I trust them regardless of how much they tell me about their own lives. It is a form of trust that borders more on faith than confidence, but I am perfectly fine with it. Does telling them about myself improve my relationship with them? Perhaps - they know a different side of me, they might think differently about me. But I'm still me to them; I'm not another person altogether and they won't trust me more or trust me less if I told other people about myself. It's a rather unnecessary action that I don't see any need to fulfill on my own.
I have some friends whom I share personal stuff with. I trust them.
I have friends whom I don't share personal stuff with. I trust them all the same.
And hopefully, the opposite is just as true.
The acquaintance said that trust was the idea of sharing, just sharing between two parties and belief in the other party to accept and take in whatever you say. I end up on the opposite spectrum compared to her in that I never talk about myself to others without absolute necessity. Along her line of logic, I would conclude that I trust people purely out of complete necessity and that I pretty much don't trust anyone at all.
I wonder something at this point. Does trust necessitate knowledge of a person? I would prefer a division between the two.
The overused statement "Why can't you tell me this? Don't you trust me?" serves as a very telling sign of the seemingly strong link between trust and knowledge of another person - the lack of one suggests the lack of the other. After all, talking to someone about issues personal to yourself is generally a strong sign of trust in the other - to view it objectively, you just gave information which can be used to blackmail yourself in the future, or used to betray and play on your emotions. That you give another the chance to do so has the implicit meaning that you believe he or she would not do this.
Going the other way round, if you don't share anything personal about yourself to others, it gives the impression that you're walling yourself from others and dare not entertain the thought of emotional betrayal. You do not trust the other party, simply put. It's a simple and clear link between the two. Surely, therefore, someone like me who shares so little with others could not possibly trust any of his friends!
Yet, by this exact same line of logic, you trust the people who stalk your facebook account. You trust the strangers who read your blog. You trust the readers of your articles.
You cannot say it is an involuntary giving of information - it is public domain and you should be perfectly aware of that (in fact, it's usually one of the more important reasons as to why you start a blog or write an article) You cannot say that it is an unintended audience - they are on your friendslist on facebook, and they are part of your readership on a blog or a newspaper. And obviously you would not say that you trust every man who stalks your facebook account, reads your blog and your articles. Therefore, knowledge isn't exactly a sufficient condition for trust.
Furthermore, the first definition of 'trust' on google (ultimate pandering to authority meh) goes as such: "have confidence or faith in", stating confidence or faith in another as a prerequisite for trust.
Why do you have confidence in someone? Because you know from previous experience that he or she will do something and do it in a particular way. This can be based off anything - past occurrences, personality, competence, but it is essentially an extrapolation of past experiences and basing that to give a particular conclusion about someone that you can trust. Knowledge is certainly important in this aspect.
Why do you have faith in someone, then? Because you do not have any logical reasoning to support your opinion that he or she will do something and do it in a particular way. The face of certainty without reasoning is one of faith, and is present in the absence of knowledge of the other party.
A simple conclusion then goes - knowledge of another person is neither a sufficient condition for trust, nor a necessary condition for trust. As commonly used a benchmark it is, it isn't the only one around.
All this said, then, begs a question: Why don't you tell other people about yourself, then? If you have reason to withold your personal life from another, is it not a sign of distrust? After all, I never did shoot down the argument that hiding stuff from another person was a sign of distrust. And indeed, that was the question asked to me in my conversation. The answer I gave was short, and perhaps needs elaboration. It was "because I didn't see the need to".
In my prior arguments I might give the impression that telling personal stuff to someone isn't a sign of trust. I don't stand by that and I do believe it is a sign of trust, but for other reasons. Talking about oneself tends to be an act of relief, a removal of a burden or an emotional cleansing. That you trust another person not to add another burden to you is the sign of trust between you and him, not the fact that you entrust him with personal worries and burdens.
It goes, then, that if I have no particular need to relieve myself of any emotional burdens I have (simply because I am not so burdened by them in the first place), there is no actual reason why I would talk to others about myself. They are - to put it rather bluntly - irrelevant to my worries, and asking them to listen to me at times adds a burden on them without actually making myself feel better at all. Rather illogical situation, wouldn't you say?
Furthermore, I do not believe that my keeping things to myself has caused others to distrust me as a result. I have good friends who say that they don't know me very much at all, and I believe with certainty that they trust me all the same. Likewise, I trust them regardless of how much they tell me about their own lives. It is a form of trust that borders more on faith than confidence, but I am perfectly fine with it. Does telling them about myself improve my relationship with them? Perhaps - they know a different side of me, they might think differently about me. But I'm still me to them; I'm not another person altogether and they won't trust me more or trust me less if I told other people about myself. It's a rather unnecessary action that I don't see any need to fulfill on my own.
I have some friends whom I share personal stuff with. I trust them.
I have friends whom I don't share personal stuff with. I trust them all the same.
And hopefully, the opposite is just as true.
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