EX-CITIZEN’S REGRET

Missing Singapore

The article made me shudder. Could I end up like this woman, who returns to Singapore 30 years after surrendering citizenship, only to be full of criticism about the country she left Singapore for in the first place? Words like “nostalgia”, “loneliness” and “colossal mistake” jump at me from the page.

The prospect of prancing off to New York in the near future looks pretty good to me. And it is certain that there will be even more prancing, more timezones, more visa-induced-anger, more accent-confusion, more more more in the great beyond. This article stares at me and ask the question I fear to ask myself:

[singlish] “Eh later you regret then how?” [/singlish]

Then, I slapped me to my senses, “Fuck la cheebye anyhow emo”.

The article laments (albeit indirectly) the unreliable public transport, dirty city streets and even work culture of the “foreign land”. Indeed, I won’t even have to name the country because 99 flights out of 100 will land you in a place less clean, less organized, less efficient, less blinged up with shiny infrastructure than Singapore anyway.

99 flights out of 100 will land you in a place less clean, less organized, less efficient, less blinged up with infrastructure than Singapore anyway.

It takes a certain degree of determination to see the only the particular shade of green that is missing from beneath the feet. Sure, learning to appreciate what one has is frequently a process that extends well beyond the fact of having. But leaving, then getting melodramatic over something you forgot to love in the first place, is a different thing.

I’m sure the lady who wrote the article did not mean to take jabs at her current host country deliberately. She did, in the end, declare her “allegiance and loyalty” to her new home. But why then, is she so clearly unhappy?

Let me make my point before the lao sai really pours: There is nothing more pitiful than having the privilege to expand one’s horizons, only to lament it’s burden.

If you wish, change is always knowledge gained. Just as certain as new experiences brings new knowledge, new knowledge in turn, brings new burdens, new fears, new joy and new responsibility. The key decision isn’t about making the right plans, it is about choosing how to be in the present. Make the right choice, and never have to “regret” in grave, bold Garamond.

And perhaps I am harsh. I do, after all, come from a background of (im)migration, plus, I have never really had issues leaving a place behind despite being deeply in love with it. I do get sentimental about friends, family and the quirks of different places, but I never regret.

It’s not unusual to consider migration as an opportunity to achieve something, but perhaps because Migration is a huge kind of change, people often mistake it as a solution to all life’s problems. I’ve seen my parents relocate to different places, and I’ve seen them through disappointment, disconnection and loneliness, but I have also witnessed their ability to find affection for every place they have lived in*. They do, of course, love Singapore, where they chose to bring me up, but they don’t love Hong Kong any less, and never do they complain about being short-changed by whichever Island they’re on at the moment. In fact, back when my mother had the energy to, she flew between the islands every fortnight.

Really, it’s not the place, it’s the perspective.

*With the near exception of New York, where my dorky father spent half the 80’s wishing he had witty comebacks to racist jerks, and where my maternal uncle lost his life to work stress. But hey, my Dad just retired, and guess where he’s planning to start his American road trip?

The mass-discussion of such shitbits for profit is known as an industry.

Graphic designers wax kerning, painters argue composition, filmmakers fuss the mark of the auteur and advertisers, God bless their understanding of virals, tinker with social media.

If the working world is anything like crit sessions in school, then it will be clever to equip yourself with shitbits and the stamina to dispense them at length. Along comes these three delightful guides by Anneloes van Gaalen.

Good read? Not entirely, but definitely a good browse. And a great little pre-crit / pre-pitch pick-me-up.

The season has come, once again, for the students of a grass-topped school in tropical Singapore to enroll in the next semester’s classes.

In the School of Art, Design & Media (ADM, see fig. 1a, b), this bi-annual ritual is no easy task (see fig. KNN).

This enraging/ enthralling/ enlightening experience recurs about 3 weeks before the start of every semester, and is well-documented on twitter & facebook (see fig. 2a, b).

This time around, yours truly was greeted by fig. 3. Yes, complications must ensue, it insists. And this is before the semester even begins. It is unfortunate that ADM, like any other young establishment, is ridden with many other similar & annoying little administrative kinks. In my four years in ADM, I have seen:

• my GPA get wrecked by a failing grade, which was later revoked,
• the school operate somewhat dean/chair-less,
• brilliant, brilliant teachers be dismissed due to petty admin & students raging about the lack of staff,
• core classes be canceled at weeks’ notice,
• mad-expensive facilities get carelessly demolished and refurbished, abused and restored,
• miscellaneous chaos.

But you know, I would be lying if I didn’t say that it is with great affection that I wrestle the absurdities that come my way semester after semester. The truth is, design kids will always have a special bond with their Alma Matter. And even more so ADM students. Why?

1. ADM is in Singapore
   The very unlikeliness of an institution dedicated to the creative arts on a stern island dedicated to efficiency is, in itself, a reason to find ADM charming. And God bless the person who had the notion to place it in Nanyang Technological University. Till today, I believe that this was done solely to culture-fuck with the general population of engineering students. There are some things that will always only fly in art school. Like an arches of grass for roofs. Like sleeves of tattoos on a top student. Or transgenderism. When ladyboy & freshman, Marla Bendini, struts across campus, I am never sure whether to feel awkward for her or those poor kids who scamper away in apprehension. Point is, ADM persists, like almost blissfully oblivious to it’s odd circumstances. In ADM, a great kinship is forged simply on the basis of our collective improbability.
2. Foundation Year
   Every ADM kid is initiated with a year of arguably fine-art-biased training. This will the the key bonding experience of all ADM kids, pre-declaration-of-Majors. There is something about all that freshman energy, channeled into two semesters of pre-assigned studio-based craft classes. For most students, this will be their first exposure to “Art School” – crit sessions,  stereotypes, late night deadline rushes, guzzling coffee, arguing about paper weight and all that. Friendships are as inevitable as gossip and crushes on those creative-type professors in their mid-30’s.It is easy to get lost in the whimsical charm of Foundation Year, but this romantic scenario will come to a rude halt. Suddenly it will be time to choose from a list of strictly design-based majors. How is all that dabbling in fine art going to help? Who knows?! But, you’d better choose wisely, because this decision will define your professional training for the next three years, and, oh, you are not allowed to change your mind further down the road. Everyone gets swept away in freshman year, no exceptions. It is the common ground and will always be.
3. Boon-fucking-lay
   Every art school is a communal pit of creative sweat, shit and tears. But ADM is in Boon Lay. Which really means, “Don’t even think about catching a train home after 11.15pm.” Like a blackhole, ADM has a certain kind of inescapable gravity that warrants respect, awe and those showerheads installed in the bathrooms. Perhaps the school should install some toothpaste dispensers soon? ADM nightlife reminds students of every major that, FCP, Maya, Rhino, MSP, Psd or InDesign, we’re all still in it together.
4. Loony diversity
   When I was very young, I attended an international school. There is something about ADM’s crazy mix of professors and students that invokes that same feeling. Classes are always small enough to know everyone by name and some handy gossip them. Students come from all over and the professors all seem like they’re poached from exotic places across the planet… a class in ADM never really quite feels like one in a typical local institution, yet, it’s undeniably Singaporean. What does that mean? Only ADM students will know.

In about 2 hour’s time, I will (attempt to) register for subjects via STARS* for the last time, ever. And honestly, I can’t help but sprinkle a lil’ misc. emo-ness over it.