Circumstances

Wandered through the airport terminals yesterday on a lark, searching for those fabled back corridors that we had explored so many years ago, only to find them cordoned off behind security doors. So instead, had a long talk yesterday night, over a slow Sakae Sushi dinner. And this afternoon I found myself by sheer luck in the premises of EDB accompanying a URA colleague for one of the common interagency meetings, and so linked up with my old friend who's now interning there. Wandered over to Peninsula Plaza for a simple Indian dinner, and then to Boat Quay for a couple of ponderous pints at Molly Malone's.

Two meetings, at two different places, but both talking about the same thing, for the same thing has been bugging me since last week.

In less than eight hours' time, I will be signing the bond agreement with URA, and that, symbolically, will be that.

I say it is symbolic because, firstly, I can still break the bond with minimal cost, since I haven't actually started spending URA money yet (and I say the $1000 penalty is minimal, because I am comparing that against the US$300,000 that I will be spending over the next four years). Secondly, it is symbolic because, really, I committed myself to this organisation a long, long time ago, when I decided to go for the final interview, accept the Columbia place and give up my local backups. So in effect, I have made up my mind to sign tomorrow because, firstly, there is no real material cost to signing (yet), and secondly, I don't have any alternative that doesn't involve burning bridges that I have worked very hard to build over the last few years. In other words, I willingly put myself into a position that leaves me with little room to manoeuvre.

But even though it is symbolic and will have negligible material impacts, that doesn't mean that the act of signing is unimportant. In my estimation, it is loaded with meaning. It may be irrational, and needlessly dramatic, but I regard the signing ceremony as the point at which I am committing irrevocably to this path of action. And the enormity of that commitment, and what it entails, has had me on edge for the past week. Which is why I have been imposing on you, dear reader, seeking your commiseration.

But talking over this week, and especially over the last two nights, has allowed me to refine my ideas more, and to set my concerns largely at ease. As you will already have read, my objection isn't really with the nature of the job I will be required to do when I come back; I see things that I like, and the things that I don't like are tolerable. There is nothing wrong with it, as far as jobs, which I can reasonably see myself doing, go. My problem is a philosophical objection to the notion of restricting future freedom of choice based on limited present perspectives, through the mechanism of the bond.

Secondly, I realise that I am triple-thinking. The first layer is a heightened awareness of the good stuff at URA; for, as one of my old students rightly pointed out, I am predisposed to see things, at this point, that confirm my assumptions, and naturally shirk perspectives that possibly will ruin my favourable impression of the choice that I am making. The second layer is an awareness of this predisposition, which implies that I am duping myself, or rather, allowing the organisation to dupe me, so that I may be intentionally limiting my own perspective to make myself feel better about something that is actually deeply wrong. And lastly, because I am above all interested in proper perspectives, I find myself compelled to actively seek out things that I don't like about URA and to dwell on them, to appropriately (as it seems to me) make myself doubt my own judgment. To compensate for my predisposition to see URA favourably by purposely making myself see things negatively. As you can tell, these three refractive layers are really irritating, because each layer distorts the reality and hampers my ability to make a really informed choice. I mean, even when I try to compensate for my own bias, I am actually adding another layer of bias rather than dismantling a previously present layer.

Thirdly, though, I still find that I want to know. To know everything. To know what I am in for. And this is beyond making the choice of signing the bond, because I have already determined that not only do I want to sign it, but I have little choice but to sign it. This is more about going into it with your eyes open, knowing what's in store, so you can constructively make preparations to deal with it. Ignorance is bliss only if you are not aware of your ignorance. But if you know that there is more to things than meets the eye, then the only bliss is through finding out more, rather than hiding from the knowledge and submitting yourself to the whims of your own imagination, in trying to figure out what you do not know.

And I find that, once the matter of deciding is removed from the question, cast aside as concluded, then my perspective becomes much clearer. This is now not only about the choice, but how to deal with the consequences of the choice. This is no longer second-guessing myself, but constructively preparing myself for what is to come. This goes beyond clinging to a fading past, and allows me to look towards the future. I want to know where this choice will put me, relative to my ultimate objectives and principles; and I want to work out what I can do to move from that location towards my ultimate objectives. I am done questioning whether taking up this bond is a step forward or a step off course. I am now looking to how to keep myself on course, no matter where I end up. Beyond whether this is progress, I am now more interested in ways in which I can make this into progress.

As for the particulars, I daresay I will refine the procedures and the steps in the days, months and years to come. But one component, I think, must be part of the equation: these talks that I can have with my friends. I am ridiculously lucky in that I have people with whom I can talk like this. And whether it is wistful or witty, vaunted or vulgar, intimate or ironic, wonderful or whimsical, it is never mediocre. And this, I find, is very valuable. Not only the actual things we discuss, or the actual means in which we discuss it, or the regard in which we can hold each other, but also the mere awareness of the possibility of these interactions perpetuating themselves indefinitely through our working lives. The knowledge that, if you so wished, you could call these people up on short notice and find yourself in deep conversation over drinks or under scenery. It provides a sense of security, of assurance of the worth of one's own experience, that I find critical in drawing together enough strength in yourself to face normal life.

And I am, as always, deeply grateful that I have the privilege of the reliable friendship of these people.

There are many more things to write. Things are moving at work, and I should record some of it here. And one of these days, I should describe just what I expect Columbia to be, just what I hope New York will give me. But that I will keep to another, less cramped, time. For now, it is sufficient for me to describe the circumstances under which I am moving forward, on this the eve of the symbolic commitment, so that I can look back and evaluate the validity of my stands, and use them as a foundation from which to look forward. And also, to record how much I appreciate the well-wishes that have come in from all quarters.