The Plunge

With people, you take a risk. You make a tentative connection based on the assumption that the other person is basically decent and open to making new contacts. Commonalities of personality and interest are the catalyst, and constantly submerging the relationship in the reactive medium of Time finally produces the alchemy that is, in my opinion, the highest ideal of friendship. That state in which assumptions, expectations and obligations become irrelevant, leaving only loyalty, responsibility and sympathy.

Gave Conan the Fender Telecaster that we had invested in over the last month, which Kay Hwee had brought back from the States at the end of his holiday there. Then we hit Clarke Quay with Conan newly armed and dangerous, and ended the evening (surprisingly early, but not in a dissatisfactory manner) at the Chinatown Point Temporary Market, digging into a pot of curry fish head and various other wholesome childhood dishes, in a way that we had not done since Newton Circus was revamped to become a spanking, shiny tourist piece. It was, really, a night to remember, and with people to remember as well.

But I don't feel impelled to record every detail here. Heh, partly because it could be incriminating for some of the parties involved, but mostly because I don't think this will be the last time something like this happens. This particular group of friends is a chimera, continually throwing up surprises, even as these surprises are couched in a series of hallowed constants. And to think that, in 2005, I had not expected this group to remain together. Defying all my expectations, despite the lack of common quotidian experience, these friendships have been sustained; in some ways they have also been deepened. It boggles my mind. Can a present relationship really rest so solidly and immovably upon the foundations of a shared past, no matter how strong that foundation is? But anyway, why question its origin, if that questioning detracts from one's appreciation of its miraculous existence?

But inasmuch as making and keeping friends is a risk, I find that I have been immensely lucky in my people. The start of 2008 has made that amply clear.

*

The festive season has finally ended, and I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. I am grateful, deeply grateful, to everyone who's made this January so memorable and distinctive, in every way. But I'm not used to being the centre of so much attention, and there's always that background buzz of mortification, as if there were something fraudulent in my claim to the centre-stage (which there was: what's so special about 21, really?). And now that it's over, I can get back to the business of normal everyday delights, and I can start making good on the debt of goodwill and fellow-feeling that everyone has put me in. If there was ever such a thing as a happy debt...

*

It continues to feel strange to be part of the staff at school. I find myself digressing a lot from the syllabus that I've been given; I'm considering bringing in other media besides literature to teach my English classes, so my kids may find snippets of computer games, films and graphic novels in front of them soon. A lot of this initiative is based on the novelty of the situation, and I daresay I see myself mellowing down after Chinese New Year. But yeah - I am digressing, and it partly feels like I'm indulging myself, perhaps giving the needs of the students unjustifiably little attention.

Which would be okay in itself; enacting new initiatives is not an entirely alien concept, after the Army. But it's the interaction with the existing staff there, a lot of whom I recognise from my time on the other side of the teacher's desk six years ago. This history makes it harder to do new things, because I feel like I'm being judged with reference to what they knew of me when I was a student. It's more irritating as your reputation preceding you, in that they have more complete knowledge of your past than a preceding reputation would normally give. A clean slate is emboldening, while the weight of the past exerts a mellowing effect, as you have an interest in living up to the standards that you had lived up to in the past. That's why people look to a clean break as a refreshing experience.

But I think it's essentially all right. Today was elbow-deep in grammar (tenses and conditionals), and participated in a (perhaps overly) lively debate over Asimov's Kid Brother. It occurs to me that I should start trying to integrate more varieties of interactivity into my lessons, in order to more effectively focus and channel all that energy that they're putting out. But I don't have much experience in facilitating group work, as opposed to working in a group. But I'm learning too, and learning as fast as I can.