Bluesky

Yesterday night, went down to Bukit Timah to this cute little joint called Bar Bar Black Sheep, an establishment with good background music tastefully reduced in volume to be ambient without demanding the attention of patrons, and with Stella, Hoegaarden and something else on tap at remarkably low prices (for Singapore standards, at least). Got together with quite a few of the dudes from the secondary school days, and spent the evening laughing over old stories and new scandals. It was a really refreshing feeling, to once again feel at ease enough to range over topics of conversation that are at once inspired, and at other times lewd. It takes a specially acute form of engagement to participate in such conversations that jump from the philosophical to the profane with such speed and dexterity. And it takes a certain special faith in the friendships around the table, a chronic willingness to take nothing personally, to sustain one in such conversations.

Do people usually have conversations like this? I would like to think so, but the eclectic combination of personalities among these people seem to indicate that this form of synergy is less common than it should be. The sheer uniqueness of the circumstances that brought us together and kept us together defies chance itself to reproduce them in another group - and I say this with a feeling of regret rather than elitism. In other words, though I hope that I will find friends of like minds and hearts in the future, I cannot avoid the apparent conclusion that I will never again make friends who are like these. I hope this conclusion is wrong; but I cannot avoid making it.

And certainly, I will miss this kind of conversing - the good-natured sparring, the teasing that would be seen as vicious except through the lens of our shared past, the stark contrast between the sophistication of the points made and the language used to make them. I will miss the artistry, the easy camaraderie, the uncanny spontaneity. And these conversations will join a long list of other memorable encounters, over the years, along rivers, on long walks, near the seaside, over dinners, over drinks, over books, in the midst of both anxiety and celebration, on the eve of departures, and on the cusp of reunions. I remember these encounters, and they sustain the hope that more of the same kind will come in the next few years.

*

Today, I reckon, was the last of the full-day outings of this season, and it was a spectacular day, a bluesky day that was so clear that it stuns one into stopping to stare at the sky. It was a sky that inspires poetry, that empowers the imagination with a sense of deep wonder. And in this city of small spaces, a sky like that liberates one's spirit by being so wide, so open.

Went back to school for one last time, and it was good to be able to see old colleagues and my old classes again. It does remind me of those days, days filled with conjuring lessons out of thin air, days spent griping over grades, days spent in awe of work that made me feel redundant, and thankfully so. Days which I still count as the most worthwhile days of this year so far. And it was good to see that everyone was still carrying on fine, from the teachers to the students. It is comforting to see that the transition from my lessons to those of a real teacher has taken place without hitches; and, I find myself once again drawing an inordinate amount of solace from the fact that I have been easily replaced. It feels to me like my job has finally been completed in full.

And after meeting as many people as I could, went down to URA to complete some paperwork. Picked up a hefty sum of money in the form of a bank draft, meant to tide me through the first four months in New York, and handed over some accounts to be reimbursed. That part was straightforward enough. Also clarified some conditions imposed upon my programme in Columbia, and have discovered, somewhat to my dismay, that my options are in fact more limited than I thought. It turns out that, really, the best perspective with which to approach my university course is really as vocational training for the job that's waiting for me in 2012. So long, then, fanciful plans to take random courses in film or Spanish. It was a tad disappointing - it still is, I think - to realise that in effect, I had to approach this course as an employee rather than as a student. But, after all, I figure that it really was a job that I signed up for when I signed the deed, and this revelation is not an injustice to work against but a set of circumstances to work within. After all, if my bottom line for these 3.5 years is for the time to be spent enrichingly, it is better to spend the time working with the system rather than rebelling against it. That part may come in later.

Popped into the office to look for old colleagues who made my seven weeks at URA so pleasant. It felt great to be back there too; and I was reminded yet again that, after all, there are good pe€ople working in this organisation, and no matter how tough the system in the organisation may be, good coworkers tend to make everything worthwhile in the end. And among all the nice things that you can get out of working life, good colleagues must rank among the most important.

After that, took a bus down to Borders in Orchard to meet up with Mrs. N and Mr. L, two old teachers, the latter of which has been studying for his doctorate in Stanford for the last two years, and as a result I had not seen him since...well, since graduating from CHS. But this was one of those perspective-shaping teachers, one of the breed of real "O Captain, my Captain"s upon which the Dead Poets' Society was based. And now, after my stint relief teaching at CHS, and his stint as a (postgraduate, but nevertheless...) student in Stanford, we could talk about a lot more things, and the three of us had a therapeutic session expounding on the scandals in staffroom politics, the direction of education in general and the antics that we used to get up to in class. Years ago, our classroom interactions had already been remarkably...cutting-edge, I guess. But now, after these years of experience on all sides, we could approach one another with even more common ground, and it was a pleasant surprise to discover how easily all this fell into place.

And, over the course of the day, a strange idea occurred to me. What with so many people sending the customary well-wishes, enquiring inquisitively about life over there, and reminiscing about salad days, I am starting to feel as if I am expected to enjoy myself there - in the sense that it is a requirement that I must fulfill on their behalf. In other words, it is my responsibility to like it there, and to come back laden with remarkable stories and experiences. I know that all this is at least partially attributable to social convention, and that it is presumptious to think that it means something more. And yet, it does bring out one important point, I think: insofar as enjoyment in a set of circumstances can be generated by force of will, it will be positively criminal not to do everything in one's power to enjoy it.