In life, as children, expectations are laid heavily upon us. Our guardians, our parents look upon us as their keys which open doors to dreams, dreams our parents could never reach. Or… Have reached and want us to reach higher. Yet, the higher their expectations, the bigger our failures seem to be to them. Parents, teachers and other guardians of the education system respond to our failures with words that limit our beliefs. The grades of our term papers tell us where we stand and root us down firmly, never to let us grow. Why is your maths so lousy, why are your essays so full of grammar errors? Are Cs and Ds the only alphabets you can get? Children who stutter, are afraid that people will laugh at them when they talk. Kids who are fat become self conscious of themselves, an image of ugliness placed on them by an ever-judgemental society. No doubt there are people who can look past these and reach for a better future. But for the most of us, what do we do? Why are these events and words so much heavier than gravity and why do they pull us down from the sky, from which we might have been soaring through?

The answer lies… Not in the words or actions of others but within the sanctity of our mind. Most of us have lasting memories of words, oh hurtful words within our heads. People who have said that we were bad at this, we could never succeed at that and yes, the perpetual stand still of our grades, which never reflect the hours of effort we’ve put in. Are these memories “stop” signs? Are they indicators that at the next chance of a test or exam, we should duck and take cover, run and avoid? I mean, these were where we failed right? Are we to avoid all chances to speak, to save us from humiliation when we stutter and to skip all social events, lest our classmates, in their social best mutter at the size of our girth? Believe it or not, the smallest words, the most insignificant of incidents can instill in us very negative thoughts and hold us back from achieving our best.

So what do we do? Are we doomed? Definitely not! How are successful people different from us? What do they see that we are missing? Well, the thing is most of these people perceive these chances as an opportunity. Yes, of course, there is always a risk of failure and they never ever kid themselves about that. But what does it mean to fail? Is it a sign to give up? To them, the real meaning of failure is when something as beaten them and has led them to give up. Take a maths test of instance. In fact, take half a dozen results of a maths test. They’ve been seared with a C grade (in blood, in red ink, what does it matter?). It’s an indicator… But of what? Most people look at it as an indicator of…well maths as a whole. They view it as a sign that they’re terrible and maths and there’s nothing they can do about it. I mean, half a dozen maths tests and always the same grade despite how much studying was done? Should’nt I get a clue?!

The answer is, yes you should. You should get a clue, not to finally say “Hey I’m bad at maths and probably shouldn’t study since I’m going to get a bad grade anyway.”, but to understand where you’ve gone wrong, to correct your mistakes where you constantly make them. Which are the areas you often stumble? Build a bridge over them… Cross that area and gradually, you’ll make it. Most of the time, we’ve already been through so much, it’s just pointless to think about it. When we’re faced directly with that problem, our negative thoughts become very automatic that we seldom notice it. We NEED to break out of these automatic beliefs. Only then will we have a positive attitude towards the problems we face. Let me tell you about a fear of mine… I hate karoke singing. I avoided every chance to bond with my friends because I knew we were eventually going to end up in a karoke lounge. I thought about why and I remembered. There was once where I went to a karoke lounge with my ex-girlfriend and her friends, and I was offered a chance to sing. Initially, I thought I had the voice of a pop star, but the result, the devastation of a metorite. Worse I think… I think I had a bad sore throat that day. But since then, I never sang again. (Except when I’m bathing, but that’s none of your business).

But there, see the cycle? It’s insignificant, and happened a long time ago, but it certainly has cost me a lot. I’ve missed out on chances to mingle with my good friends and maybe even a contract, I mean, with my good looks, if I could sing…man… But the point is, I saw the event bigger than it was and I couldn’t explain it to myself realistically. I even began to deny the event or blame it on something else.(But let’s get this clear, I did have a bad sore throat). I could never bring myself to just try singing publicly, or to improve myself. The consequences of that incident carried on after so long.

What I should have done, was to face adversity with a different view. Say, my friends make an appointment at K Box, I baulk. But I should tell myself, these are my friends. Besides, if I sing badly, I’d be making them laugh. They’re my friends, does it really matter? I mean, if they left me for my singing(which seriously would be quite sad), they wouldn’t be real friends wouldn’t they? I should have exchanged my fear for a chance to release stress, let myself go, not care so much about my image. Only then, would I have the courage to face up and sing. If I did badly, yeah it’s my fault. But who is going to sue me?(Unless someone did die from my singing but… har har har)

So in general, adversity should be seen as opportunities to shine. After all a diamond shines brighter after numerous tests right? The beliefs that we have should be positive ones, not those that make us run away from them. The result and consequences of these beliefs which make us run…trust me, they’re worse than those of when we try to overcome our adversities. Only when we realise what we’re missing,(i.e in my case, building stonger friendship, becoming a pop star) can we understand and dispute our original negative beliefs. This will give us strength to take our fears on… Man, I should sing… 

 My Dad was driving me down this highway one day and I saw an accident sign at the side of the road. Its description showed a car hitting a man, its result a fatal one. I wondered, why would someone be walking along this road, where there are only cars. There aren’t any shops nearby or residential areas. Strange… Along the next few months that I took this highway, the signs begin to appear more frequently. I finally asked my Dad why and I found out why. I begin to understand that I was travelling along Singapore’s Road of Progress and… I wanted to make a detour. 

As Singaporeans become financially richer and more knowledgeable, the country begins to grow. Its progress is well known throughout the world, a little red dot no one can ignore.We begin to expand financially and mentally and inevitably, there will be others who have not matched our pace of growth and therefore will not have an equally matched status both financially and in society. So what right? We’ve worked hard for what we have, why should we care about the others? They’ve probably have not worked as hard as we have and therefore do not deserve our respect. The Singaporean ego has grown with the progress of our nation, where not more than 45 years ago we were treated as second class citizens by foreign countries. This new mindset is a stark contrast to one of the very values I love about my country. It is the value of equality, where all races are treated with equal respect. Yet, how is it that the New Singaporean mindset has chosen to outcast the people from foreign lands, stereotyping them and not giving a damn about their welfare? You must be wondering what I’m talking about right? How can a road be related to the New Singaporean mindset?

Have you ever wondered, who keeps our roads clean and green? I will tell you now, what’s burning on my mind. We hire foreign workers to work for us, to clean our roads, trim the bushes and put up road signs, but we do not care about their welfare on the roads. At the most, the contractors who are in charge of this take only small precautions by only giving them green vests, along a highway where thousands of cars rush by. No vehicle is stopped nearby to ensure that oncoming vehicles are alerted to their presence, no road signs. Most of the time only one cone is placed, for the whole stretch of road the worker is working on. One! It is heartbreaking how this worker who has come all the way from his country to a foreign land becomes just another road accident statistic, to keep the value of OUR country. Just because this worker is foreign and does menial jobs does not entitle this worker to less protection or safety. It still happens now. It only takes an open pair of eyes to see it.

Along this road that I travel, I begin to notice the many other sad reminders of what the average Singaporean has become. When will we be able to open our eyes and realise that these people we outcast are like us, humans. There are many other incidents I’ve read about, about maids not being allowed to use the swimming pool and not being given a seat in on the bus. Let me tell you this, Singapore. These events were major events in history, which triggered the fight against racism. In America, the Blacks weren’t allowed to use the pool and were required to sit in a segregated corner in the bus. In Singapore, these events DO happen. We discriminate against foreign races and we do not give them their fair time of the day. Let us remember that we were once treated like that. Second class. Let us understand that even though the newspaper says that a group of foreigners commited a crime, it does not give us a right to condemn that whole race. Personally, I feel that the general view in Singapore is when a Chinese man commits a crime, it’s his fault, but when a foreigner commits a crime, it’s the entire races’ fault. I’m Chinese, so I know.

Grow up, people. These people are here to do the jobs most of us are scared to do. Cut them some slack. These people have left their loved ones, just to work for months in a foreign country. They feel pain and sorrow as much as we do if we left our loved ones. I do not want the country to progress to a state where our financial and technological status is at its best but it’s heart is as cold as the money and heartless as the technology from which our country grows.

Alexander Tan.

Sometimes it’s a matter of finding someone to talk to. You may have a few close friends, some loved ones, but you just can’t broach certain topics with them, or you just can’t talk as freely with them as you like to.

I wish I can talk freely with someone. Someone who understands, someone who listens, someone who knows that I just want to vent and not the other way round.

I have a friend who said once, “you need to be a listener as well as a vent-er”. True, I concede. You can’t just keep taking and not give anything back.

If I do find that person who is willing to listen, I will be willing to listen too.

People say once you learn the art of riding a bicycle, you will never forget. Just like swimming, they assure us. But to someone who doesn’t know how to bike or swim, it’s kinda useless, the information. Swim, I give up. I can never understand how to float, can never grasp the idea of “slicing my arms cleanly through the water so as to push myself forward”.

So I turn to riding a bicycle.

Now, riding a bicycle is not as scary as I think swimming is. I always think I’m going to drown in the 1.2m high waters and thus never be able to really let myself go in order to learn. But riding a bicycle is different. No matter how long I may take to learn, the worst that could happen is I would fall down hard, probably deep scratches here and there, but risk of me actually dying while learning how to ride a bicycle is way low. So I actually looked forward to this afternoon, when I finally realised what childhood should be all about.

 Sitting on a bicycle for the very first time today, I felt nervous, a little apprehensive but very excited. I actually wanted to learn something so much, wanted to learn something that all kids learnt when they were young. It took a lot of falling and fumbling, but I think I got the hang of at least getting both feet on the pedals and pushing forward bravely. I couldn’t steer straight, I couldn’t balance well mostly, but I could let myself go and have fun.

I only managed to get in about a half hour’s worth of learning, and I still can’t ride a bicycle all on my own, but I know now what I missed when I was young. I never had a chance to learn how to ride, probably because my dad was always too busy to bring me to the beach or another place where I could learn, and also because my parents didn’t allow me much to go to the beach with my friends when I was younger.

I now have a long scratch on my leg, reminiscent of my first cycling effort. I felt as though I was a kid again, learning something new but yet not really afraid of what it entails. Which brings me to think: Always try to learn new things when you are young, because when you grow older and have more knowledge about yourself and the world around you, you feel trapped. You have no idea how to let yourself go anymore, basically because you now have more to think about, more things to hold you back.

Of course, I’m not sure how much this actually applies to everyone out there. I would appreciate it if people actually tell me how this affects them, if any.

So, I guess now I have to wait impatiently for my next cycling trial. That will most probably be next week, and if the weather permits, I may even be able to experience the “real” thing: learning to cycle on a beach.

Sitting on a stone slab by the sea with the wind blowing through my hair, I feel as though everything is fine. Now at least. It’s been a struggle, but all that is forgotten when I look out to the horizon and I see calmness staring right back at me.

I never realised the sea has so many different shades of green. I wonder what all those greens mean. Far away from me, yet calling out to me.

Way out I see a shade of dark-green. Big ships are seen there, ships I have never travelled in before and ships I would love to travel in. Looking at the ships and the peaceful shade of dark-green, I feel as though I’m living in a world where there is no haste. Serene in my own little world, I wish I could get closer to one of those ships and peek inside. What would I see?

Then came the shade of blue-green. Small boats and bunkers hover here, dark figures are seen walking in the boats, arranging this and that. A sea of white came into my eyes. Sails. White sails. Hundreds of white sails. Grouped together, I see people fiddling with the sails, hoping to make a good sail when the wind favours them. A large orange sail went past me. A sudden huge gust of wind blew the sail off balance and the guy tipped over. Head bobbing up and down in the water, he struggled to set the sail upright again. Standing up once more, he faced the waters bravely but went over again. And again. Finally, he reared up a last time and struggling a little with the sail, changed direction and passed me again. This time, I could see the determination on his face. I nearly applauded for him, but something stopped me. I suspect it’s embarrassment.

Next I see the lime-green shade. Merely sitting there gazing out, I could almost forget all the rush of the world around me. I smell the salty sea air and instantly my frazzled nervers are soothed. The sun shining down on the lime-green waters reflects a faint rainbow of colours on the surface. But as the waves recede, that rainbow is gone. I wish I can see it again.

Finally, crashing on the sandy shores are waters of a yellow-green shade. Dirtied by litter, I can smell faint whiffs of empty cans and bottles. I see the waves rushing in, only to die off quietly. I wonder if this is similar to how we do things. We start something with a bang, with a shout, with a certain confidence, but give up soon without a squeak. I wonder if the waves are trying to tell us something. They die off, but soon come back again, sometimes even bigger and noisier. Shouldn’t we learn something from them?

I love my time at the beach yesterday. I wouldn’t trade my time spent at the beach yesterday for anything. I didn’t want to go far from the windy shores, were it not for the fact that I was dead tired from all the walking.

I love the sea. The colours of the sea.