Friday, January 30, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
I've been thinking quite a bit these days. Sitting alone in a room with books by your side and a quiet environment seems to encourage cognition.
I've been thinking about the ephemerality of human relationships, and by extension, of life itself. The people I interact with now, should I endeavour to make them be comfortable with me, even when I know that I probably will not meet or talk to them again after a few years? Or is this mindset a crippling one, one that is affecting my daily interactions with others?
Life is a curious thing. One way or another, whether by a higher being's providence or a random accumulation of events, we have been given the gift or indeed burden of the ability to think, and attach meaning to objects, whether material or not. And we have been particularly good at that, except for life itself.
After all, isn't life fleeting? It has been 4.6 billion years since Earth came to be, yet it has only been 19 since I have first breathed. And in the next 70-80 odd years that I have left, I have to learn to be content with what I have or have accomplished (or will), and risk leaving the world without the satisfaction that I have in my mind achieved at least part of my goals.
I have been watching the Game of Thrones recently, and what struck me the most out of all the houses was the Lannisters. The head of the house is so obsessed with legacy and family because 'that's all that's left once you're dead'. So is that what we should aim towards? Or is it to serve a higher purpose, to defend the weak, help the needy, solve world hunger, manipulate and manoeuvre towards world peace?
Why should it matter what others think of you or your family once you are dead anyway? You will not be able to tell who is singing praises and who isn't.
Hence, if life is temporary, and probably devoid of a 'true' meaning, does that mean it is meaningless, useless, and instead, we might as well delve into our hedonistic tendencies and forget anything else? Why should I help my country become more prosperous? So that I and my loved ones can enjoy the fruits of my labour in our short and temporary lives? Or for the sake of my children (if I do have any)? In fact, why should anyone help anyone else? Why would anyone?
Is it because we are 'programmed' by our genes to be predisposed to do so? For it increases the chances of our own survival, and our self-defined group as well? Or is it due to societal pressure, or as Foucault put it, the micro-physics of power?
I was reading this speech that has been shared countless of times in social media and mainstream media by Bilahari Kausikan, on how it is imperative to Singapore's survival that we remain extraordinarily successful. One of my friend commented that he is one of the more honest people in Singapore, and that his speech was clear and insightful.
I think it was beautifully written. But is it really the honest truth? Singapore is a small country with little resources, but has more options that other because of its current world standing and relative economic weight, as the narrative goes.
It is always easy to find oneself agreeing to such simple, hard-to-refute deductions. I find myself guilty most of the times as well. But did my friend praise him as honest because he gave us the reality of our situation, or that he was merely honest with his own view of the world? Ultimately, objects, terms and phrases only mean what people make of it.
As in Derridan Deconstructionism, meaning can only come from a context, and this context is itself 'an open structure'. It is defined by social relations, perhaps long-standing naturalised understandings of that particular context, or perhaps even the imagination (does imagination and originality exist?) of people.
Coming full circle, if tomorrow the whole world agrees that life's meaning is to be free from the addiction of oxygen, carbon dioxide and water, does that mean that only death can give life meaning? Does that follow too, that meaning and context are what we ourselves define it?
I think I've asked too many poorly thought-out and worded questions tonight. I shall get back to my books and to a more manageable set of questions.
I've been thinking about the ephemerality of human relationships, and by extension, of life itself. The people I interact with now, should I endeavour to make them be comfortable with me, even when I know that I probably will not meet or talk to them again after a few years? Or is this mindset a crippling one, one that is affecting my daily interactions with others?
Life is a curious thing. One way or another, whether by a higher being's providence or a random accumulation of events, we have been given the gift or indeed burden of the ability to think, and attach meaning to objects, whether material or not. And we have been particularly good at that, except for life itself.
After all, isn't life fleeting? It has been 4.6 billion years since Earth came to be, yet it has only been 19 since I have first breathed. And in the next 70-80 odd years that I have left, I have to learn to be content with what I have or have accomplished (or will), and risk leaving the world without the satisfaction that I have in my mind achieved at least part of my goals.
I have been watching the Game of Thrones recently, and what struck me the most out of all the houses was the Lannisters. The head of the house is so obsessed with legacy and family because 'that's all that's left once you're dead'. So is that what we should aim towards? Or is it to serve a higher purpose, to defend the weak, help the needy, solve world hunger, manipulate and manoeuvre towards world peace?
Why should it matter what others think of you or your family once you are dead anyway? You will not be able to tell who is singing praises and who isn't.
Hence, if life is temporary, and probably devoid of a 'true' meaning, does that mean it is meaningless, useless, and instead, we might as well delve into our hedonistic tendencies and forget anything else? Why should I help my country become more prosperous? So that I and my loved ones can enjoy the fruits of my labour in our short and temporary lives? Or for the sake of my children (if I do have any)? In fact, why should anyone help anyone else? Why would anyone?
Is it because we are 'programmed' by our genes to be predisposed to do so? For it increases the chances of our own survival, and our self-defined group as well? Or is it due to societal pressure, or as Foucault put it, the micro-physics of power?
I was reading this speech that has been shared countless of times in social media and mainstream media by Bilahari Kausikan, on how it is imperative to Singapore's survival that we remain extraordinarily successful. One of my friend commented that he is one of the more honest people in Singapore, and that his speech was clear and insightful.
I think it was beautifully written. But is it really the honest truth? Singapore is a small country with little resources, but has more options that other because of its current world standing and relative economic weight, as the narrative goes.
It is always easy to find oneself agreeing to such simple, hard-to-refute deductions. I find myself guilty most of the times as well. But did my friend praise him as honest because he gave us the reality of our situation, or that he was merely honest with his own view of the world? Ultimately, objects, terms and phrases only mean what people make of it.
As in Derridan Deconstructionism, meaning can only come from a context, and this context is itself 'an open structure'. It is defined by social relations, perhaps long-standing naturalised understandings of that particular context, or perhaps even the imagination (does imagination and originality exist?) of people.
Coming full circle, if tomorrow the whole world agrees that life's meaning is to be free from the addiction of oxygen, carbon dioxide and water, does that mean that only death can give life meaning? Does that follow too, that meaning and context are what we ourselves define it?
I think I've asked too many poorly thought-out and worded questions tonight. I shall get back to my books and to a more manageable set of questions.
Friday, January 16, 2015
First time travelling over 6800 miles alone. Kinda liberating really, with no one to tell me what to do, no one that I need to wait for to catch up, and no one to bear the burden of my navigational mistakes. The feeling of freedom was fleeting but so precious. I think I will have to go on a trip by myself soon haha.
I've been having mixed feelings coming back to Cambridge. I think I just don't fit in that well with the crowd here (on that note, have I ever in any other environment?). It's as if I have not rested enough and here I am on an 8 week crash course on how inadequate my knowledge is. haiz.
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