Connections

It turns out that our home broadband connection was disrupted by the lift upgrading construction happening right outside our apartment. Apparently, they constructed our broadband wire into nonexistence, and when the technician came down today, he found said wire buried under fresh new concrete. What followed was an absurdly comical exchange between the SingTel technician, the contractor foreman and my mother, all trying to work out whose fault it was that the wire broke, with the conversation careening from one precarious misunderstanding to another. What mountains they made out of the molehills of one broken wire! At any rate, a temporary connection was run from one frayed end to another, and with a sigh of relief, the internet connection was restored to my home.

That being said, the last few days without an internet connection at home have been strangely calm. It's like being dazed by a fall, or being winded by a long run. You stay still and catch your breath, and you feel like you're totally entitled to your idleness, and are immune to subsequent shocks. Having the internet connection cut through no fault of my own makes me feel protected from all the implications of having that connection; work, emails, blogging, and all the other paraphenalia of an online presence. It's a nice feeling - liberating, recentralising, helping to put things in focus. When the internet is not freely available, you can more accurately judge how valuable that connection really is. This feeling is so nice that I'm thinking of instituting one day per week as an internet-free day, when I'm in New York.

Anyway, some updates regarding the online presence. Have posted two new clips under the "Video" section at the Second Lumière Project, one on the Borneo trip and another on Penang. I particularly enjoyed making the latter; when I was walking along the streets of Georgetown, I happened to play the Sigur Ros piece Hoppipolla on my iRiver, and the music simply fit the mood and impelled me to make the video. Everything seemed to fall into place so nicely; the music and the photos and the video clips meshed so well into a holistic pattern. And I also tried my hand at a first shot at time-lapse photography. It's a technique that definitely bears further investigation.

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On Friday, found myself giving a political philosophy lesson on Fascism, drawing on material that we went through in JC years. Engaging in such subjects again, dabbling in history and philosophy, discussing these questions intelligently and being surprised by the answers and the questions that the students can throw onto the table; this is the way that I encounter the old energy and vibe of a JC classroom, and also some of the quirkiness and spontaneous ingenuity of 4N. This much was expected; what surprises and delights me is the intensity of the impression. I still think there will never be a class like 4N again; but my classes now sure give their predecessor a run for its money.

After school, a quick jump down to RJ with Chun Long, Kats and KHwee to seek out the old teachers, because Kats will be leaving the country soon to seek his studies in Japan. Met up with Mr. Purvis, Mr. Rollason and Mr. Sowden, along with passing greetings with Mr. Booth, Mr. McConnell, Mr. Kwok and Mrs. Perry. And spent a couple of hours standing in the school lobby chatting with Ms. Chen. And I realised, in the course of the conversations, that the old awe at my teachers has faded. The profound respect is, and always will be, still there, I think; but now I find it much easier to engage them, especially Mr. Purvis. They have become approachable, comprehensible. I guess partly it's because I have now also glimpsed the other side of the teacher's desk, so what they do and how they think isn't so mystical anymore. But I think primarily it's because of my command in 6SIR, and all the new situations that the posting had exposed to me. Compared to that, to the real risks of active deployment, to the management of real people and their real problems, to the priorities of people who have already started living life for real, as Joel points out, the priorities and perspectives of an academic environment are rendered absurd and ludicrous by self-indulgence. When academic learning starts taking itself too seriously, when thoughts become so primary that they supercede action, then it loses all sense of perspective and is bathetic in its intimations of earnest gravity.

And after that, a jump home for a quick shower before going over to KHwee's place for another reunion, in light of Kats' imminent departure. Played Munchkins (of course), mahjong (another staple) and chess (which was a new one, especially under the influence!). At about midnight we broke out the alcohol that was so graciously provided by Ms. Ong (who else, I ask you, has teachers who will buy their students - albeit past students - several bottles of hard alcohol?) and by KHwee's seemingly inexhaustible stash. Over cups of Asahi, gin and vodka (among other, more exotic beverages), we started talking.

It evolved from there into a pretty memorable session, with the lights off and people lounging all over any horizontal surface that was near at hand. I won't go into what exactly transpired, except to clarify that nothing untoward happened. It was just a time infused with warmth and familiarity, with supreme comfort for everyone, and a conversation that moved lazily and unhurriedly, passing from one person to another like one passes an interesting bauble around. It is clear to me that this kind of thing will not happen - could not have happened - without this particular combination of personalities. If I can be blessed with one friend that is as good as them in the coming years, then I cannot ask for more.

In the morning, when the sun rose and the party started to break up, we moved to the closest prata shop for the concluding rite of the night. And yes, part of the comfort of our gatherings is how they all seem to proceed so similarly, progressing down well-worn trajectories and using activities and topics that are familiar to all. And prata at dawn is like our breaking of bread, and with teh tarik and milo as our various wines, we had communion. I don't want to carry the religious image too far and distort the reality, but inasmuch as a ritual can be comforting in reaffirming belief, then our gatherings have that reinforcing power on our friendships.

And so, in two days' time, another old friend will be taking wing, and though it will be for a novel destination, the departure will still take a familiar form, I reckon. This is, if not for the sake of the person departing, then for my sake, for in times like these, the ritual, the familiar practice, is the only thing that keeps me anchored. Everything that lies beyond those departure gates is unknown. The new experiences that Kats will come across will cast the old, shared experiences in a new light. But as these new phase of departures takes place, I am beginning to detect a difference in the urgency of the event. When, in 2006, my friends started leaving, it was difficult because I felt like I was being left behind, and I did not know which among my friendships would survive the transplantation into a new environment. But now, in 2008, when thes people are leaving, it doesn't seem so high-risk anymore. Partly because we've already gone through two big transitions (CHS to JC, JC to NSF) and our friendships have come out largely intact. And, of course, partly because we also have our own departures to look forward to. In these ways, then, these new departures are not as terminal as the previous ones; they are continuations of a new pattern that we have successfully worked into our relationships, a pattern of leaving and returning, of changing conversation topics orbiting around a constant core of fellow-feeling.

Therefore, "How much of a departure should I take it to be?" Kats writes.

He was always the better writer.