One night, the Boy and I were discussing something not very important when he said something that made me raise both eyebrows. I don't remember exactly what it is, but it made me say, "That's so racist!"
The Boy immediately disagreed. He said being racist is when you hate someone just because of their race - and he was not, and will never do that.
I disagreed because I think making any judgement, positive or negative, based on the concept of race is being racist.
Of course, this does mean that everyone is at least a little bit racist, but that isn't always a bad thing. And before any rock-throwing starts, hear me out k?
Having a preconceived set of notions about anything or anyone means that your mind has a set of stereotypes that it uses. Stereotypes aren't bad - they help us to navigate the big, bad, confusing world by giving us a set of parameters in which to operate. Most intelligent people, however, then rearrange the ideas that we originally have to incorporate additional information. It goes without saying that you get the idiots who prefer to never exercise their brain.
The way I see it is stereotypes of all kinds - racist or not - are like the basic building blocks that we begin playing with first when we first find out about something, but later we can throw them out or keep them as a foundation when we learn more about that something.
Of course, I didn't figure all that out on my own. I read some of what I just said about stereotypes somewhere, but it makes sense to me.
And in fact, I see this happening everywhere. People build little boxes around other people they meet at first, and sometimes these little boxes fit perfectly but sometimes, the boxes get thrown out because they're wrong.
Experience seems to affect how often the boxes get thrown out: as I gain more experience in life - I wanted to avoid saying grow older! - my little boxes fit better more often or need only a little bit of modification here and there.
Maybe one day, I'll be able to size up people with just a glance! That would be so cool!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Why Agnes
I've just noticed that I've been writing about Agnes a bit, but never actually why he's called Agnes.
What happened was that he really offended some of the sales team by offending their clients (i.e. our advertisers i.i.e. the people who help us pay our bills) so badly that the clients were threatening to pull out all their advertising.
And so the sales team have a constant stream of complaints about him, but they also don't want to rock the boat too much by showing how much they really hate him. As an example of how much they hate him, they completely ignore him every single time he talks to them. Even if he goes over to their desk, and stands right next to them, and calls them by name, they just pretend he's not there and keep on with whatever they were doing before he came up to them until he goes away.
So they gave him a nickname, Shrek. But that wasn't really working out because it was a bit too obvious. Shrek is a tall, fat, hairy monster and Agnes is...well...also tall, kinda fat and hairy.
So we began experimenting with various nicknames. And nothing really worked until one day, J got a call and went to Agnes' desk to look for a set of headphones.
J had sent Agnes out of office on some work stuff, but Agnes forgot his headphones and insisted that J bring them down to the taxi stand where he was. And oh, J better make sure that she was bringing the right set of headphones - the white pair. And there were two sets of headphones on his desk all right.
Only problem: both were white.
To be fair, one was white with orange squiggly patterns, while the other was white with a black logo stamped across the plasticky part. But still...both were white!
So J just took one set and went down, but Agnes got all huffy and said that J had got it all wrong, and stomped back up to office to get his headphones. When I saw him, I was mildly surprised and asked him how come he was back.
He said rather sulkily, and here I quote verbatim from memory, "J took down the wrong pair of headphones. I told her the white ones already." Then he stomped off. Quite literally too, with loud stomping noises to express his irritation.
I had to bite my lips to keep from giggling.
When J came back, I told her Agnes came back, and she said yes, precious (girly name that resembles his real name too much to publish) apparently can use only one pair of headphones when he goes out.
I protested at the use of that girly name - it was far too pretty to use on him! And besides it sounded too much like his own name, so I suggested Agnes instead. For some reason, it caught on, and now everyone calls him that.
Even his cubicle neighbour who's put up a large corkboard and a calender right on the divider that separates their work stations so that she doesn't need to look at him. Did I mention we're not the only ones who've been offended by him? Just the ones who got stuck with him.
What happened was that he really offended some of the sales team by offending their clients (i.e. our advertisers i.i.e. the people who help us pay our bills) so badly that the clients were threatening to pull out all their advertising.
And so the sales team have a constant stream of complaints about him, but they also don't want to rock the boat too much by showing how much they really hate him. As an example of how much they hate him, they completely ignore him every single time he talks to them. Even if he goes over to their desk, and stands right next to them, and calls them by name, they just pretend he's not there and keep on with whatever they were doing before he came up to them until he goes away.
So they gave him a nickname, Shrek. But that wasn't really working out because it was a bit too obvious. Shrek is a tall, fat, hairy monster and Agnes is...well...also tall, kinda fat and hairy.
So we began experimenting with various nicknames. And nothing really worked until one day, J got a call and went to Agnes' desk to look for a set of headphones.
J had sent Agnes out of office on some work stuff, but Agnes forgot his headphones and insisted that J bring them down to the taxi stand where he was. And oh, J better make sure that she was bringing the right set of headphones - the white pair. And there were two sets of headphones on his desk all right.
Only problem: both were white.
To be fair, one was white with orange squiggly patterns, while the other was white with a black logo stamped across the plasticky part. But still...both were white!
So J just took one set and went down, but Agnes got all huffy and said that J had got it all wrong, and stomped back up to office to get his headphones. When I saw him, I was mildly surprised and asked him how come he was back.
He said rather sulkily, and here I quote verbatim from memory, "J took down the wrong pair of headphones. I told her the white ones already." Then he stomped off. Quite literally too, with loud stomping noises to express his irritation.
I had to bite my lips to keep from giggling.
When J came back, I told her Agnes came back, and she said yes, precious (girly name that resembles his real name too much to publish) apparently can use only one pair of headphones when he goes out.
I protested at the use of that girly name - it was far too pretty to use on him! And besides it sounded too much like his own name, so I suggested Agnes instead. For some reason, it caught on, and now everyone calls him that.
Even his cubicle neighbour who's put up a large corkboard and a calender right on the divider that separates their work stations so that she doesn't need to look at him. Did I mention we're not the only ones who've been offended by him? Just the ones who got stuck with him.
The Zara Man
So last year, the magazine I write for (hereafter known as my mag!) had a turning-9 party that was meant to celebrate the successful nine years as well as to give our advertisers something fun and to enhance their impression of my mag. J and I thought we'd like to dress up a bit, so we arranged to go shopping together. Actually I always think I'd like to dress up a bit!
We had some work stuff to do in different directions but we'd meet up in the super big shopping belt of Orchard Road later. When the time to meet was close, J msged me every little bit to ask if where I was, and to ask if I would be reaching soon - an action most unlike her laid-back, VERY independent self. By the way, I was only 15 minutes late because the work stuff took longer than anticipated.
You see what I didn't know was that J had asked Agnes to help her carry some stuff, and he had offered to wait with her for me. Not really something J felt comfortable with, but she didn't want to fob off his efforts to be more sociable within our little group too - yes, ever the optimistic leader, our J - so she said yes, and they settled in a little cafe for some coffee and a little chat.
When I arrived, and Agnes headed off home having declined our polite invitation to join our shopping trip, J began recounting the conversation rather incoherently with bursts of laughter. Here's what I gathered finally after J had finally stopped laughing long enough to tell me stuff properly.
Agnes' idea of a little chat consists almost entirely of boasting about himself. Apparently he used to be a big spender who spent so much in Zara that he called himself the Zara Man. At the height of his spending madness, he actually went and bought a grand total of ONE Raoul shirt. But he has now seen the folly of his spendthrift ways, and now buys cheap shirts instead because after all, they all look exactly the same don't they?
And his top recommendation for cheap shirts that look good and last? Mustafa Centre.
*For those who think I'm making up this conversation, I swear on all the gods that govern inspiration of all kinds that I'm not.
**And for those who are particularly obtuse, Agnes has terrible taste in clothing. He wears plaid short-sleeved shirts in revolting colour combinations that are too tight and too short ALL the time, with the exception of one time where the sartorial gods decided to spare our eyes, and made him decide to wear a black polo shirt that actually fits properly.
***As an example of how short and tight those plaid shirts are, the buttons are always straining, and you can see gaps in the buttonholes. The gaps in-between buttons gape constantly, and once when he sat down and linked his hands behind his head, we saw his very hairy, very white, very flabby belly. EUWCH.
We had some work stuff to do in different directions but we'd meet up in the super big shopping belt of Orchard Road later. When the time to meet was close, J msged me every little bit to ask if where I was, and to ask if I would be reaching soon - an action most unlike her laid-back, VERY independent self. By the way, I was only 15 minutes late because the work stuff took longer than anticipated.
You see what I didn't know was that J had asked Agnes to help her carry some stuff, and he had offered to wait with her for me. Not really something J felt comfortable with, but she didn't want to fob off his efforts to be more sociable within our little group too - yes, ever the optimistic leader, our J - so she said yes, and they settled in a little cafe for some coffee and a little chat.
When I arrived, and Agnes headed off home having declined our polite invitation to join our shopping trip, J began recounting the conversation rather incoherently with bursts of laughter. Here's what I gathered finally after J had finally stopped laughing long enough to tell me stuff properly.
Agnes' idea of a little chat consists almost entirely of boasting about himself. Apparently he used to be a big spender who spent so much in Zara that he called himself the Zara Man. At the height of his spending madness, he actually went and bought a grand total of ONE Raoul shirt. But he has now seen the folly of his spendthrift ways, and now buys cheap shirts instead because after all, they all look exactly the same don't they?
And his top recommendation for cheap shirts that look good and last? Mustafa Centre.
*For those who think I'm making up this conversation, I swear on all the gods that govern inspiration of all kinds that I'm not.
**And for those who are particularly obtuse, Agnes has terrible taste in clothing. He wears plaid short-sleeved shirts in revolting colour combinations that are too tight and too short ALL the time, with the exception of one time where the sartorial gods decided to spare our eyes, and made him decide to wear a black polo shirt that actually fits properly.
***As an example of how short and tight those plaid shirts are, the buttons are always straining, and you can see gaps in the buttonholes. The gaps in-between buttons gape constantly, and once when he sat down and linked his hands behind his head, we saw his very hairy, very white, very flabby belly. EUWCH.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
up and left
So I'm pretty sure I've mentioned Agnes, who is our official assistant editor but who is a perfectly ridiculous figurehead who's offended pretty much everyone in our little team in the short time he's been here. Oh and he's even offended Bud, who's so named because his favourite phrase is "no budget". How do you offend someone you don't even speak to except like once a month?!
Anyways, to cut it short, everyone has some personal issues with him - even the sales team! - and we all pretty much have to bite our tongue all the time when we're dealing with him in any way at all.
It got so bad that J had to have a talk with him and tell him that he needs to modify his working style and his work attitude and he said that he's been completely professional and that he would continue to be but he couldn't guarantee the behaviour of other people!
When J told me, I had this moment when I couldn't speak, and then I laughed so hard until I cried. As a frivolous aside, good thing my mascara didn't run!
This little talk didn't happen too long ago, just a week or so I think; and the result was that Agnes agreed to watch how he was portraying himself, and to be very responsible and professional.
HA! We should have known he couldn't keep his word.
On Thursday, I left the office with another colleague, D - we were going in the same direction and D said that he was taking a cab and would kindly drop me off at my destination. And as we were waiting for a taxi, D asked me so what my team would be doing now.
And I went "Hah?" - see, I do speak Singlish and very well too I might add.
D said, "well, since Agnes is leaving today, who will be replacing him?"
You could have knocked me over with a feather! I told him that couldn't be true and he insisted it was and said that Agnes had personally told D about it.
I whipped out my phone and called J, thinking that she would say that management thought it was better for Agnes to leave quietly but apparently J ALSO DID NOT KNOW!
Apparently Agnes believes it to be the height of professionalism to resign and leave without first discussing his current workload with his supervisor i.e. J, and without making sure that his work was all up-to-date. Plus when he tendered his resignation - directly to upper management i might add - Bud apparently asked him what his workload was like with the current team, and that liar said that he would email J and make sure J was up to date, and in any case, he didn't have much and that our work was just beginning.
Well, at least it won't be hard to keep my resolution to be nicer to him. He's not even here! Which by the way, means less mental barriers to my posting about the stupid things he's done.*
*I felt a bit wicked for even thinking it because you know...he was my colleague and I thought that if I kept thinking about the stupid things, then I would never get over it. But hey, I can't get over them anyways.
Anyways, to cut it short, everyone has some personal issues with him - even the sales team! - and we all pretty much have to bite our tongue all the time when we're dealing with him in any way at all.
It got so bad that J had to have a talk with him and tell him that he needs to modify his working style and his work attitude and he said that he's been completely professional and that he would continue to be but he couldn't guarantee the behaviour of other people!
When J told me, I had this moment when I couldn't speak, and then I laughed so hard until I cried. As a frivolous aside, good thing my mascara didn't run!
This little talk didn't happen too long ago, just a week or so I think; and the result was that Agnes agreed to watch how he was portraying himself, and to be very responsible and professional.
HA! We should have known he couldn't keep his word.
On Thursday, I left the office with another colleague, D - we were going in the same direction and D said that he was taking a cab and would kindly drop me off at my destination. And as we were waiting for a taxi, D asked me so what my team would be doing now.
And I went "Hah?" - see, I do speak Singlish and very well too I might add.
D said, "well, since Agnes is leaving today, who will be replacing him?"
You could have knocked me over with a feather! I told him that couldn't be true and he insisted it was and said that Agnes had personally told D about it.
I whipped out my phone and called J, thinking that she would say that management thought it was better for Agnes to leave quietly but apparently J ALSO DID NOT KNOW!
Apparently Agnes believes it to be the height of professionalism to resign and leave without first discussing his current workload with his supervisor i.e. J, and without making sure that his work was all up-to-date. Plus when he tendered his resignation - directly to upper management i might add - Bud apparently asked him what his workload was like with the current team, and that liar said that he would email J and make sure J was up to date, and in any case, he didn't have much and that our work was just beginning.
Well, at least it won't be hard to keep my resolution to be nicer to him. He's not even here! Which by the way, means less mental barriers to my posting about the stupid things he's done.*
*I felt a bit wicked for even thinking it because you know...he was my colleague and I thought that if I kept thinking about the stupid things, then I would never get over it. But hey, I can't get over them anyways.
nasty auntie
This is just a really big rant over one really horrible auntie at my local cze char stall, so feel free to skip it.
She's so mean, and careless, and so couldn't care less about her customers. I know we don't pay a lot and really, we're not expecting fine-dining service, but come on, a little courtesy surely couldn't kill you!
There was once the Boy and I went down for dinner and we ordered gong bao chicken with rice, and baby kailan in oyster sauce. And that mean auntie took my order as take-away when it wasn't. And instead of carefully taking it out of the box, she mixed it all up and served it like that!
It was so messy, and awful and that wasn't the worst of it. You know how you need some plain rice when you're eating heavily sauced food, but here the rice had soaked up all the sauce so that the chicken which were supposed to be lightly coated in the sauce was dry, and the dried chillies which you cannot eat unless you want your throat on fire and your stomach to have an instant ulcer were all shoved everywhere and we had to pick it out super slowly, and I felt so upset and grumpy over my dinner. It was utterly impossible to eat and in the end, I gave it up as a bad job. I also felt very irritated with the Boy for pretending it was okay, and for telling that mean auntie it was okay because he also didn't like how the rice and chicken and sauce were all messed up, and he tried eating it all up to appease me - though why he thought that would appease me when I couldn't eat my own dinner I don't know - and of course he couldn't.
So today this Mean Middle-Aged Woman (hereafter known as MMAW) was at the cze char counter, and I asked for gong bao chicken and she said no more, and that only the fried rices were available. I said ok, and ordered one fried rice with salted fish. BUT not wanting to just eat oily carbs and preserved meat, I asked politely in Chinese, "Auntie, can please add extra egg?" and she said nastily, "Of course cannot."
Now those of you who speak Chinese and/or frequent cze char stalls should know that this is like the height of nastiness for kopi-tiam aunties. One of the reasons that many people patronise kopi tiams is because you can customise your food. It's not gourmet haute cuisine - just good plain food at reasonable prices. You want something more, no problem. There's a little extra charge sometimes, but again that's expected and usually not a problem.
I was stunned by her attitude, and just stammered something like, "I don't mean for free of course" and she saw my consternation and tried backpedaling, "It's not about the money. We're just too busy."
So I just kept quiet and just sat at an empty seat to wait for my food, but really I wasn't very happy because one, she could have just said nicely that that wasn't possible right now, and second, her excuse was flimsier than a house of cards. Come on, how much time does it take to crack another egg into rice?!
And later, when I went home, I found that she had given me the WRONG order. I tell you, if I go down to eat and I see MMAW is the only person manning the cze char counter, I'm totally ordering from another stall or deliberately giving my order to some other auntie.
Evil dinner-destroying woman.
And in case you think I'm being a prissy princess about things, I noticed two other families deciding to buy their dinner from another stall because they were so put off by her - with one woman even saying loudly "No no, I don't want to order from you anymore" to another one of the aunties at the cze char stall who had tried to intervene and save the situation.
Once again, evil dinner-destroying MMAW.
She's so mean, and careless, and so couldn't care less about her customers. I know we don't pay a lot and really, we're not expecting fine-dining service, but come on, a little courtesy surely couldn't kill you!
There was once the Boy and I went down for dinner and we ordered gong bao chicken with rice, and baby kailan in oyster sauce. And that mean auntie took my order as take-away when it wasn't. And instead of carefully taking it out of the box, she mixed it all up and served it like that!
It was so messy, and awful and that wasn't the worst of it. You know how you need some plain rice when you're eating heavily sauced food, but here the rice had soaked up all the sauce so that the chicken which were supposed to be lightly coated in the sauce was dry, and the dried chillies which you cannot eat unless you want your throat on fire and your stomach to have an instant ulcer were all shoved everywhere and we had to pick it out super slowly, and I felt so upset and grumpy over my dinner. It was utterly impossible to eat and in the end, I gave it up as a bad job. I also felt very irritated with the Boy for pretending it was okay, and for telling that mean auntie it was okay because he also didn't like how the rice and chicken and sauce were all messed up, and he tried eating it all up to appease me - though why he thought that would appease me when I couldn't eat my own dinner I don't know - and of course he couldn't.
So today this Mean Middle-Aged Woman (hereafter known as MMAW) was at the cze char counter, and I asked for gong bao chicken and she said no more, and that only the fried rices were available. I said ok, and ordered one fried rice with salted fish. BUT not wanting to just eat oily carbs and preserved meat, I asked politely in Chinese, "Auntie, can please add extra egg?" and she said nastily, "Of course cannot."
Now those of you who speak Chinese and/or frequent cze char stalls should know that this is like the height of nastiness for kopi-tiam aunties. One of the reasons that many people patronise kopi tiams is because you can customise your food. It's not gourmet haute cuisine - just good plain food at reasonable prices. You want something more, no problem. There's a little extra charge sometimes, but again that's expected and usually not a problem.
I was stunned by her attitude, and just stammered something like, "I don't mean for free of course" and she saw my consternation and tried backpedaling, "It's not about the money. We're just too busy."
So I just kept quiet and just sat at an empty seat to wait for my food, but really I wasn't very happy because one, she could have just said nicely that that wasn't possible right now, and second, her excuse was flimsier than a house of cards. Come on, how much time does it take to crack another egg into rice?!
And later, when I went home, I found that she had given me the WRONG order. I tell you, if I go down to eat and I see MMAW is the only person manning the cze char counter, I'm totally ordering from another stall or deliberately giving my order to some other auntie.
Evil dinner-destroying woman.
And in case you think I'm being a prissy princess about things, I noticed two other families deciding to buy their dinner from another stall because they were so put off by her - with one woman even saying loudly "No no, I don't want to order from you anymore" to another one of the aunties at the cze char stall who had tried to intervene and save the situation.
Once again, evil dinner-destroying MMAW.
Monday, December 31, 2007
RePlay!
So I was looking through some of my old stuff, and found this old blog post from a long time ago. But I think the stuff I talk about inside are still kinda relevant to me today i.e. I'm still confused over those topics! So I'm posting it again. People who've already read it, feel free to skip through!
Yesterday, I watched this Chinese show in which one of the characters said she wished things had turned out differently and if only this hadn't happened or that hadn't happened and this guy who was sort of in love with her - it's complicated and I have no intention of going into why he was sort of in love with her - told her that even if the situation had arisen again, the outcome would have remained exactly the same because the characters of each person involved would also have remained exactly the same.
This got me thinking. Yes, I do realise that it does seem as if only Chinese drama serials get me thinking. But you see, Chinese drama serials often have these psuedo-philosophical scenes and also, they are very "drama-mama" as one friend calls it. Besides, they are also very formulaic which allows for parallel commentary running through your brain even as you watch it.
The sentence caught me because I had been, in rather a desultory manner, I admit, pondering on the idea of consciousness and destiny and in that one sentence, the idea of character as destiny popped into my brain.
I dare say this is not a new concept by any means and if I did a search, I'd probably find tens, hundreds, thousands of folks who've already written treatises and stuff on it. Hell, the relation to the nurture-vs-nature debate is so close that I probably seem a right ass and maybe a left ass too for not having made the connection earlier.
Having said that, this little grain of an idea intrigues me. People often speak of time travel and say if they could go back in time, they would have done this and done that, changed this or changed that. Would they really have, if time travel was possible?
We often believe that we make decisions based on knowledge and rational, objective analysis of our knowledge. I don't think that it will be disputed, though, that no matter how logical we think we are, our emotions, preferences, prejudices and values always affect our final decisions.
And what are our characters if not these things? We are "a collection of physical, mental and physiological traits" and these traits pre-dispose us to favour certain options over others. Even if we know that a horrible outcome for us may be the result of choosing our preferred option, we may still choose that option precisely because our character traits demand it.
What I mean is this: X and Y have to choose between saving their money for a computer and to spend their money now for a night out on town with friends. Assuming X and Y have identical financial situations blah blah blah, the only thing that will influence them is their character. X would choose to go out with his friends because he feels that there's no point in having money if money doesn't do anything for you. Y would choose to save the money because he thinks that the money would be better off used for something more useful. But Z might choose to save half the money and use the other half for going out. Maybe two months later, they might get a small windfall - X will think the same and do the same, Y will think the same and do the same and Z will think the same and do the same.
Police can identify repeat offenders because these criminals have a signature that lead them to do certain things exactly the same. Girly magazines advise over and over and over again to change your mindset before you can change your life, your boyfriend, career dips, underwear preferences, whatever. The point is - we are "programmed" for lack of a better word - it's late! I'm sleepy! - to do the same things over and over because of our characters. Even if we had a chance to change any of our actions.
And how are our characters formed? This question is the heart of the nurture-vs-nature debate. If our characters are the main driving force behind our actions, it would mean that if we knew what builds characters, we could influence or even control actions. Going the next step down sort of scares me, particularly after I've recently read Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" - if governments found out exactly how to build people's characters, change their thoughts, they could directly influence what society will be like.
Also, if we are, indeed, at the mercy of our own dispositions, then is there actually any of that free will thing that all er...religious persons *cough-Christian evangelists-cough* seem to love to talk about so much? I mean, I could say that God made me this way, so actually most of my free will is gone. Sure, there's the possibility of me choosing the other option, but it's not really very likely is it, since I'm already predisposed to preferring one of the options over the other?
Another thing: If we did choose things because our characters already gravitate towards one choice, then what happens to our learning capacity? I think this is where the definition of character comes in right? Our experiences influence and even define our values, prejudices, preferences et al, so our characters are ever-expandable and ever-changing. So with the inclusion of new experiences, our choices become changed.
HOWEVER, if so, then would the above become invalid? Would we become completely unpredictable as changes become wrought in us? This doesn't seem probable to me. In everyone, certain choices never change. Chocolate will always remain the preferred flavour of ice-cream lovers and yet others prefer vanilla. Some people will always be quick to anger, even as they learn to control that anger and some people will always have the patience of saints. Even these small examples suggest that some characters traits are enduring, if not permanent.
The thing is, do such traits have a stronger grip on our actions than the variable ones? And how do such traits come about? Are they really so long-lasting and unchanging?
I'm giving myself a headache.
Yesterday, I watched this Chinese show in which one of the characters said she wished things had turned out differently and if only this hadn't happened or that hadn't happened and this guy who was sort of in love with her - it's complicated and I have no intention of going into why he was sort of in love with her - told her that even if the situation had arisen again, the outcome would have remained exactly the same because the characters of each person involved would also have remained exactly the same.
This got me thinking. Yes, I do realise that it does seem as if only Chinese drama serials get me thinking. But you see, Chinese drama serials often have these psuedo-philosophical scenes and also, they are very "drama-mama" as one friend calls it. Besides, they are also very formulaic which allows for parallel commentary running through your brain even as you watch it.
The sentence caught me because I had been, in rather a desultory manner, I admit, pondering on the idea of consciousness and destiny and in that one sentence, the idea of character as destiny popped into my brain.
I dare say this is not a new concept by any means and if I did a search, I'd probably find tens, hundreds, thousands of folks who've already written treatises and stuff on it. Hell, the relation to the nurture-vs-nature debate is so close that I probably seem a right ass and maybe a left ass too for not having made the connection earlier.
Having said that, this little grain of an idea intrigues me. People often speak of time travel and say if they could go back in time, they would have done this and done that, changed this or changed that. Would they really have, if time travel was possible?
We often believe that we make decisions based on knowledge and rational, objective analysis of our knowledge. I don't think that it will be disputed, though, that no matter how logical we think we are, our emotions, preferences, prejudices and values always affect our final decisions.
And what are our characters if not these things? We are "a collection of physical, mental and physiological traits" and these traits pre-dispose us to favour certain options over others. Even if we know that a horrible outcome for us may be the result of choosing our preferred option, we may still choose that option precisely because our character traits demand it.
What I mean is this: X and Y have to choose between saving their money for a computer and to spend their money now for a night out on town with friends. Assuming X and Y have identical financial situations blah blah blah, the only thing that will influence them is their character. X would choose to go out with his friends because he feels that there's no point in having money if money doesn't do anything for you. Y would choose to save the money because he thinks that the money would be better off used for something more useful. But Z might choose to save half the money and use the other half for going out. Maybe two months later, they might get a small windfall - X will think the same and do the same, Y will think the same and do the same and Z will think the same and do the same.
Police can identify repeat offenders because these criminals have a signature that lead them to do certain things exactly the same. Girly magazines advise over and over and over again to change your mindset before you can change your life, your boyfriend, career dips, underwear preferences, whatever. The point is - we are "programmed" for lack of a better word - it's late! I'm sleepy! - to do the same things over and over because of our characters. Even if we had a chance to change any of our actions.
And how are our characters formed? This question is the heart of the nurture-vs-nature debate. If our characters are the main driving force behind our actions, it would mean that if we knew what builds characters, we could influence or even control actions. Going the next step down sort of scares me, particularly after I've recently read Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" - if governments found out exactly how to build people's characters, change their thoughts, they could directly influence what society will be like.
Also, if we are, indeed, at the mercy of our own dispositions, then is there actually any of that free will thing that all er...religious persons *cough-Christian evangelists-cough* seem to love to talk about so much? I mean, I could say that God made me this way, so actually most of my free will is gone. Sure, there's the possibility of me choosing the other option, but it's not really very likely is it, since I'm already predisposed to preferring one of the options over the other?
Another thing: If we did choose things because our characters already gravitate towards one choice, then what happens to our learning capacity? I think this is where the definition of character comes in right? Our experiences influence and even define our values, prejudices, preferences et al, so our characters are ever-expandable and ever-changing. So with the inclusion of new experiences, our choices become changed.
HOWEVER, if so, then would the above become invalid? Would we become completely unpredictable as changes become wrought in us? This doesn't seem probable to me. In everyone, certain choices never change. Chocolate will always remain the preferred flavour of ice-cream lovers and yet others prefer vanilla. Some people will always be quick to anger, even as they learn to control that anger and some people will always have the patience of saints. Even these small examples suggest that some characters traits are enduring, if not permanent.
The thing is, do such traits have a stronger grip on our actions than the variable ones? And how do such traits come about? Are they really so long-lasting and unchanging?
I'm giving myself a headache.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Profiling Myself
Sometimes I feel bad for the people who actually click to view my profile, because...well, there just is not much for them to read or see over there.
I wanted to update it, really I did! But when I start to type something about me, nothing sounds quite right. How do you write something about yourself that is not too literal, but not too boring yet not too delusional or pompous?
I typed and deleted, and typed and deleted, and repeated said process for another three times before I threw my hands up in despair. Figuratively though - I have never been able to do that naturally although the phrase is such an enjoyable one to use.
And maybe this problem is related to a bigger one: namely, how well do you know yourself? Some people have claimed to know themselves very well, but I have never been able to claim that.
I am friendly with bits of myself, probably even intimate with those bits but there are some bits that I am barely civil to. Now before anyone jumps to call some psychiatrist to start analysing this sentence for fear that I am a headcase ready to chop up innocent bystanders, just think about it for a moment.
Can you say you know all of yourself, even those parts that have dark desires and impulses that you hide away carefully so that they don't jump out at the most inconvenient moments? I imagine it would be a bit tough to explain why you were delicately tracing the outline of your platonic friend's slender yet tough, long-fingered, capable-looking hands as you chat at a coffee bar; or to say why exactly some rather mean, racist jokes might still be funny to you.
It would take a brave soul to explore all the innermost recesses of their own mind and soul.
I am not a coward, but neither do I believe myself to be particularly courageous. I have too many faults to find a thorough examination of myself to be comfortable. I believe soul-searching is a necessary process, because how on earth do you assimilate the experiences you've gone through and evolve from what you were without undergoing this? Yet doing it all at one shot might literally send me at least into a crazy depression because it seems like I have barely moved beyond the homo-erectus stage of life.
So I think what I've been doing so far - looking at myself, bit by bit; changing a little here and there - might actually be the best road to seeing myself, and from there the world around me, more clearly.
Or maybe, just maybe, this is all just crap and nothing matters much except taking pleasure in the moment, the here and now.
Then again, in the immortal words of all exasperated friends and the Boy, I might just be thinking too much, too far.
I wanted to update it, really I did! But when I start to type something about me, nothing sounds quite right. How do you write something about yourself that is not too literal, but not too boring yet not too delusional or pompous?
I typed and deleted, and typed and deleted, and repeated said process for another three times before I threw my hands up in despair. Figuratively though - I have never been able to do that naturally although the phrase is such an enjoyable one to use.
And maybe this problem is related to a bigger one: namely, how well do you know yourself? Some people have claimed to know themselves very well, but I have never been able to claim that.
I am friendly with bits of myself, probably even intimate with those bits but there are some bits that I am barely civil to. Now before anyone jumps to call some psychiatrist to start analysing this sentence for fear that I am a headcase ready to chop up innocent bystanders, just think about it for a moment.
Can you say you know all of yourself, even those parts that have dark desires and impulses that you hide away carefully so that they don't jump out at the most inconvenient moments? I imagine it would be a bit tough to explain why you were delicately tracing the outline of your platonic friend's slender yet tough, long-fingered, capable-looking hands as you chat at a coffee bar; or to say why exactly some rather mean, racist jokes might still be funny to you.
It would take a brave soul to explore all the innermost recesses of their own mind and soul.
I am not a coward, but neither do I believe myself to be particularly courageous. I have too many faults to find a thorough examination of myself to be comfortable. I believe soul-searching is a necessary process, because how on earth do you assimilate the experiences you've gone through and evolve from what you were without undergoing this? Yet doing it all at one shot might literally send me at least into a crazy depression because it seems like I have barely moved beyond the homo-erectus stage of life.
So I think what I've been doing so far - looking at myself, bit by bit; changing a little here and there - might actually be the best road to seeing myself, and from there the world around me, more clearly.
Or maybe, just maybe, this is all just crap and nothing matters much except taking pleasure in the moment, the here and now.
Then again, in the immortal words of all exasperated friends and the Boy, I might just be thinking too much, too far.
Notes on a Laptop
Just an idle observation that I got as I was reading through some blogs that I missed out on while working. People stop blogging during the holidays but I START blogging then. Talk about topsy turvy…
I’m looking around for a new lappie right now. My beloved Fujitsu has come a long way with me from the time I bought it when I was a silly uni freshgirl afraid to tap too hard on its keyboard buttons up to now as a hopefully more mature office girlie who works in a teeny tiny cubicle. It’s actually still working great, with the exceptions of the occasional graphics problems, but the screen is starting to die and to replace the screen costs so much that I’ve made the decision to let my lappie go, and buy a new one. It actually hurts a bit to make this decision because I’ve become quite attached to it, but I know that I’ll soon be unable to do anything on it at all. A full 1/3 of the screen is darker than the other parts and the dying pixels are spreading – it’s almost like a cancer…
I’ve done a lot of research on what good specs and what mid-end specs are because I want to get the best bang for my buck. I am merely a poor office worker after all! And I haven’t even been working very long. Sadly I will not be able to get a new Fujitsu just because it costs far too much.
Here are my main tasks. I do lots of word processing tasks, and do some minor fiddling with some high-resolution graphics for work and play. I watch dvds, streaming movies and occasionally play games (mostly rpgs, not so much rts’s). I download lots of stuff, and save lots of stuff too, especially piccies from friends – my msn pic is from Principessa! I surf the net a lot – looking at lots of design stuff for work; looking at lots of news/current affairs/gossip/beauty/
fashion sites for leisure; playing lots of online games; and lots of chatting on instant messagers.
What I've garnered after endless internet research, stalking IT-inclined friends and obsessive reading and re-reading of editorial articles, reviews and forum posts, this is what I think I should be watching out for the following:
I’m looking around for a new lappie right now. My beloved Fujitsu has come a long way with me from the time I bought it when I was a silly uni freshgirl afraid to tap too hard on its keyboard buttons up to now as a hopefully more mature office girlie who works in a teeny tiny cubicle. It’s actually still working great, with the exceptions of the occasional graphics problems, but the screen is starting to die and to replace the screen costs so much that I’ve made the decision to let my lappie go, and buy a new one. It actually hurts a bit to make this decision because I’ve become quite attached to it, but I know that I’ll soon be unable to do anything on it at all. A full 1/3 of the screen is darker than the other parts and the dying pixels are spreading – it’s almost like a cancer…
I’ve done a lot of research on what good specs and what mid-end specs are because I want to get the best bang for my buck. I am merely a poor office worker after all! And I haven’t even been working very long. Sadly I will not be able to get a new Fujitsu just because it costs far too much.
Here are my main tasks. I do lots of word processing tasks, and do some minor fiddling with some high-resolution graphics for work and play. I watch dvds, streaming movies and occasionally play games (mostly rpgs, not so much rts’s). I download lots of stuff, and save lots of stuff too, especially piccies from friends – my msn pic is from Principessa! I surf the net a lot – looking at lots of design stuff for work; looking at lots of news/current affairs/gossip/beauty/
fashion sites for leisure; playing lots of online games; and lots of chatting on instant messagers.
What I've garnered after endless internet research, stalking IT-inclined friends and obsessive reading and re-reading of editorial articles, reviews and forum posts, this is what I think I should be watching out for the following:
- A Core 2 Duo processor that's 2.0 or 2.2Ghz (T7000 series)
- at least 2GB of memory DDR2
- At least 160GB of hard disk space
- A discrete graphics card - so far, it looks like I should try for an Nvidia GeForce 8600 GS/GT or the new 8800 GTX if I can afford it
- wireless internet connectivity (duh!) - basic abg, but abgn is preferable
- DVD/RW drive - I think I really wouldn't need blu-ray etc etc.
The only thing is I don’t know if I should get something now, or if I should wait a little bit until after the New Year to get stuff. I had actually already resolved to get a specific Acer already, but another two lappies have caught my eye.
I’d actually like to get something by Jan 2008 but there is news that one of the laptops I’m eyeing may have better screen resolutions on offer in early 2008, though not necessarily in January. Choices, choices…If anyone has any ideas, feel free to let me know please!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Toughing it Out, All the Way
I was at Holland Village with the Boy when the headlines of a large stack of newspapers caught my eye. The staid black lettering of the broadsheet, published in bold caps, calmly announced that Benazir Bhutto had been assassinated.
I actually strolled past it a little bit before it actually sank in, and I actually gasped, stopped dead in the middle of that busy walkway and turned back to glare at the innocent newspapers. I couldn’t believe it.
I had read her autobiography as a gawky, frustrated teenager, and though I could see that, as most autobiographies are wont to do, it whitewashed her errors, gilded her successes and romanticised her and her nearest and dearest, Benazir Bhutto had impressed me. I cannot remember every bit of that book now as clearly as my teenage self could, but I remember thinking to myself that I must learn from her to be strong, tough and smart – and to do it all with grace, even if I may not be making great changes to history like her.
Benazir Bhutto swerved the course of her life and the world she lived in. She may not always have been respectable – the corruption charges come to mind – and she may not always have trodden a clear road; but even her death ignited a debate about power, its use and its mandates; about truth and the different perspectives each person has of it; and about terrorism and the need for a united resolution to its end. Benazir Bhutto would doubtless have had plenty to say.
I saw on a website that had voted her one of the 11 most influential women in the world for year 2007 this adage that they said particularly applied to her: “well-behaved women rarely make history”. I think I shall adopt this particular idiom for a while.
I actually strolled past it a little bit before it actually sank in, and I actually gasped, stopped dead in the middle of that busy walkway and turned back to glare at the innocent newspapers. I couldn’t believe it.
I had read her autobiography as a gawky, frustrated teenager, and though I could see that, as most autobiographies are wont to do, it whitewashed her errors, gilded her successes and romanticised her and her nearest and dearest, Benazir Bhutto had impressed me. I cannot remember every bit of that book now as clearly as my teenage self could, but I remember thinking to myself that I must learn from her to be strong, tough and smart – and to do it all with grace, even if I may not be making great changes to history like her.
Benazir Bhutto swerved the course of her life and the world she lived in. She may not always have been respectable – the corruption charges come to mind – and she may not always have trodden a clear road; but even her death ignited a debate about power, its use and its mandates; about truth and the different perspectives each person has of it; and about terrorism and the need for a united resolution to its end. Benazir Bhutto would doubtless have had plenty to say.
I saw on a website that had voted her one of the 11 most influential women in the world for year 2007 this adage that they said particularly applied to her: “well-behaved women rarely make history”. I think I shall adopt this particular idiom for a while.
Quick Catch-up
Everyone’s been asking me if my blog is dead, but of course not! It’s merely that I’ve been so busy I just couldn’t update it. As Principessa Fiora says, our blogs are collecting dust for a while. Also, staring at a computer screen all day at work actually makes me feel NOT like doing the same at home; and I’ve too much to do to be blogging at work, though I rather doubt anyone would know what I’m doing given the nature of my work.
However, I am clearing some leave at the moment, so ta-da, here I am back again.
Lately I’ve been catching up on the blog of this one friend – let’s call her the Caped Crusader – who’s currently studying in Boston – lucky lucky woman. It’s snowing there now and CC hates the snow claiming it makes her bones freeze and is a pain in the ass to walk on – yep, I thought she could fly! Oh how we have been deceived. But even if she’d punch my eyes out, I still have to say that the snowy pictures she posts are nothing short of gorgeous.
And now that I’ve risked my life and am now living in fear of a death-glare from CC, let me move on in hopes of distracting her.
I quite quite like my job and, as Principessa Fiora said over our lovely Christmas dinner the other day, it’s amazing how one year ago, we were bitching and moaning about how miserable our work lives were. Principessa Fiora has this super prestigious marvellous job at a European embassy and wowee, she gets to go on business trips and see the world on company expense. That’s one part of her job that I envy, although it must be said that I would not change my jobs merely for a chance to travel. I like too many other parts of it!
My colleagues are a pretty nice bunch. We’re a pretty girly bunch, with slim clotheshorse J heading up our team and unofficial assistant head prim proper secretly wild-child Ms. G being the most experienced and longest-surving member of it. SR is the senior creative dude – funny silly guy who’s still pretty childish and oh, is a newly-wed. M is the creative dude that’s new to the team and has the same ridiculous, juvie sense of humour as SR, but mixed up with a little bit of other issues. There’s Agnes the official assistant head whom we pretty much detest – Agnes is of course merely a nickname we have for HIM. That’s right, Agnes is a man, and I foresee lots of whining, eye-rolling, teeth-gnashing stories centring on him and his petty stupid actions in future. Agnes didn’t use to be in our team, but his own project kinda died out though to be fair, it was not through any fault of his own. We got pretty much stuck with him since our project is related to his.
And – just an aside arising out of my irritability at the mailbox-clogging – is everyone on Facebook now and does everyone have to invite me on it and express shock, horror and a little bit of bemusement that I am not on and refuse to be on Facebook, or MySpace or any other of those social networking sites?? I did use to have a Friendster account, but I only went in once and have never ever gone back in.
I think I shall let this entry end on this note – seems like we’ve come full-circle in my admitting to yet another web application I signed up for and never used. The regular use of webmail must be my greatest web accomplishment.
However, I am clearing some leave at the moment, so ta-da, here I am back again.
Lately I’ve been catching up on the blog of this one friend – let’s call her the Caped Crusader – who’s currently studying in Boston – lucky lucky woman. It’s snowing there now and CC hates the snow claiming it makes her bones freeze and is a pain in the ass to walk on – yep, I thought she could fly! Oh how we have been deceived. But even if she’d punch my eyes out, I still have to say that the snowy pictures she posts are nothing short of gorgeous.
And now that I’ve risked my life and am now living in fear of a death-glare from CC, let me move on in hopes of distracting her.
I quite quite like my job and, as Principessa Fiora said over our lovely Christmas dinner the other day, it’s amazing how one year ago, we were bitching and moaning about how miserable our work lives were. Principessa Fiora has this super prestigious marvellous job at a European embassy and wowee, she gets to go on business trips and see the world on company expense. That’s one part of her job that I envy, although it must be said that I would not change my jobs merely for a chance to travel. I like too many other parts of it!
My colleagues are a pretty nice bunch. We’re a pretty girly bunch, with slim clotheshorse J heading up our team and unofficial assistant head prim proper secretly wild-child Ms. G being the most experienced and longest-surving member of it. SR is the senior creative dude – funny silly guy who’s still pretty childish and oh, is a newly-wed. M is the creative dude that’s new to the team and has the same ridiculous, juvie sense of humour as SR, but mixed up with a little bit of other issues. There’s Agnes the official assistant head whom we pretty much detest – Agnes is of course merely a nickname we have for HIM. That’s right, Agnes is a man, and I foresee lots of whining, eye-rolling, teeth-gnashing stories centring on him and his petty stupid actions in future. Agnes didn’t use to be in our team, but his own project kinda died out though to be fair, it was not through any fault of his own. We got pretty much stuck with him since our project is related to his.
And – just an aside arising out of my irritability at the mailbox-clogging – is everyone on Facebook now and does everyone have to invite me on it and express shock, horror and a little bit of bemusement that I am not on and refuse to be on Facebook, or MySpace or any other of those social networking sites?? I did use to have a Friendster account, but I only went in once and have never ever gone back in.
I think I shall let this entry end on this note – seems like we’ve come full-circle in my admitting to yet another web application I signed up for and never used. The regular use of webmail must be my greatest web accomplishment.
Friday, March 30, 2007
In it deep
I like being alone at home. It is very peaceful and you feel safe and secure as you never feel, when with anyone else, even if it is your significant other. Night-time alone at home is even better.
There is an exquisite irony in this: as your guard is lowest when you’re alone, the bad things always come to attack your mind.
Have you ever had something you believed that you excelled in, something that has always been one in which you could triumph, where effort has always been amply rewarded? I do.
Now I have doubt, not because of something that happened, but because of something that has not yet happened. It is always the waiting that is so abrasive. Rejection is hard, but there is something that you can do to help yourself through it and there are always other things to turn to.
Waiting, not knowing – these are the cracks through which doubt slips into, the soil in which it thrives and blooms into vile imaginings that poison your confidence and sense of self.
Doubt can be friend or foe, and sometimes both, but now, right now, it is Enemy. Even though I should and do know better than to let doubt take me.
There is an exquisite irony in this: as your guard is lowest when you’re alone, the bad things always come to attack your mind.
Have you ever had something you believed that you excelled in, something that has always been one in which you could triumph, where effort has always been amply rewarded? I do.
Now I have doubt, not because of something that happened, but because of something that has not yet happened. It is always the waiting that is so abrasive. Rejection is hard, but there is something that you can do to help yourself through it and there are always other things to turn to.
Waiting, not knowing – these are the cracks through which doubt slips into, the soil in which it thrives and blooms into vile imaginings that poison your confidence and sense of self.
Doubt can be friend or foe, and sometimes both, but now, right now, it is Enemy. Even though I should and do know better than to let doubt take me.
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