Retro Or Just Plain Old-Fashioned

Walking down Haji lane is quite a surreal experience. It is almost like being transported back in time to a different era; time seems to slow down, the colours fade, the road is narrow and there are old bicycles slanted against the walls. The fashion and furniture within the shops are like a pretty girl's beguiling smile. They beckon you to come closer. It is a romantic place. I don't go there as often as I would like. I should. And since it is so close to school, there is all the more reason to visit.

Racism isn't as cool as the psychedelic prints on this vintage chair

I always admired the taste of the shopkeepers. They seem to be able to bring in things that are retro but yet fashionable. It's not as easy as you might think. For example, a pair of spectacles from the 80s might be retro, but a handphone from the same time is just plain old-fashioned. But it is not just gadgets or fashion that go through this retro vs. old-fashioned scrutiny. Sometimes I feel that people's mentalities need to go through some sort of checklist.

For example, with regards to a certain racially-insensitive twitter user. It seems to me that her mentality was similar to a certain period in the 1960's. Not cool. Just old-fashioned. In fact, this whole hypercritical attitude of bigotry is entirely outdated. 

I just saw a post from a classmate on facebook. She was ranting about someone who was looking down at those who studied at private universities. Although I don't know the context of the criticism, I do know how it feels to feel second class. I used to feel that way when most of my friends went to Junior College after their O' Levels, while I went to Temasek Polytechnic. We are coming into the teenage years of the new millennium where discrimination should no longer exist. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we should all agree on everything, I'm saying that it takes maturity to get along with someone who lives, thinks, or looks different. Maybe it is time we grew up.

But more importantly, I don't let it affect me anymore. There are people whose opinion I value and respect; they are the voices I let in and listen to. The others don't matter. Because the ones who have to beat others down to feel good about themselves deserve neither my ear nor my heart.

Three Years And A Third

At the end of August, I will be leaving Christian Outreach To The Handicapped to pursue my degree in Mass Communication at the Institute of Higher Learning which is established by the Singapore Manufacturers' Federation (SMa). The degree will be accredited by Murdoch University.

Although I am eager to begin a new season in my life, I cannot help but look back and appreciate all that God has taught me through the beneficiaries, my colleagues and the volunteers; both the good lessons and the bad. Working at COH has given me so many opportunities to learn and develop new skills. It has been a great pleasure being part of an organisation that puts so much effort into serving and loving our beneficiaries.

I have learnt so much from the beneficiaries. Spending time with them has taught me that their disabilities are simply extensions of my own shortcomings and limitations. They have taught me how to behave a little more selflessly and even when I sometimes don't, they are still are happy to see me. They have given me a glimpse of God; His character and His nature.

I am often quick to forget. My colleagues have been such a blessing to me, constantly giving me much needed reminders and appreciation. They always inspire me with their commitment; spending all their creative, emotional and physical energy just to improve a few hours in the life of the beneficiaries. And when the beneficiaries have left, the exhausted expressions of my colleagues surprise me. Not because of how drained they are, but because I know that the next day, I will see them refreshed and smiling as if they've never tasted tiredness.

I am glad for these three years and a third. COH and the stories of her beneficiaries are now a part of me. I am glad because I know that I have learnt lessons that cannot be taught from a lecture slide in any classroom. Because I know that COH will continue to grow and develop, even as I do.

My First Day Of School

There's many places I'd rather be than in a cold empty classroom and yet this is where I sit, shivering. It is my first day of my university studies and all I can think about are kids in the worship camp in church, receiving from fine worship leaders and musicians from Charis Methodist, Paya Lebar Methodist, Riverlife and Forerunners.

My thoughts are interrupted by a slender lady who strides into the room. I could have mistaken the lecturer for a student if not for elegant age lines around her eyes. We are joined by two other female students who enter the room chatting. As the lecturer introduces herself, I am very aware of two facts; there are only 4 of us in the room and, I am the only guy.

The lecturer is entertaining but speaks like someone disillusioned with the system. Once in a while when she tells a joke, her eyes shine and her youthfulness is unsuppressed. I imagine she must have been very attractive in her younger days.

After class, I speak to some guys at the camp over the phone. I hear singing and worship in the background and immediately, there is a longing in my heart. God reminds me that He is right here with me on my slow stroll to the MRT station. The traffic of City Hall becomes a low droning and it is as if the night is lit by candle light. I remind God that I've always wanted to be where the worshippers are. This might be the path after all.

How Brief Is My Calling (Why I Want To Study In 200 Words)

I am a 28-year-old child. I am always growing and learning. I have a sensitive soul. I love words and the effect they have on me. I want my writing to cause others to feel. I want to find meaning in revealing the stories of people that the world tries so desperately to hide; the orphans, the less-fortunate, and the forgotten.

From the polite and polished requests of customers in the bookshop; the curious child asking questions at the education centre; to the staccato cries of a beneficiary with hearing loss and speech impediments at the day activity centre for people with intellectual disabilities, relevant communication has taught me to work with different groups of people. I have developed workshops, conducting them for students ranging from primary to university level, and tailoring them for corporate groups.

To enable myself to communicate better, I am self-taught in photography, Photoshop and InDesign. I use these skills to produce print advertisements and newsletters to allow my organisation to reach volunteers, donors and the general public. I believe I have the heart, as well as the tools, to flourish as the School of Communications equips me with the knowledge.

A Furious Sneeze (My Life In 300 Words)

I lay in her arms, ears still ringing from the hit-and-run, and hair moist from the mix of blood and broken glass. I was less than 3 weeks old and the car was even younger. My elder brother sat stunned in the front seat whilst my father frantically forced the doors open to get us out, all the while praying to God to save his baby. At the Alexandra Hospital, it was discovered that the blood on my head originated from my mother’s arm, fractured when she instinctively shielded me upon impact.

When he heard I was safe, my grandfather, a devout Methodist pastor, dubbed me as ‘favoured, and destined for great things’. Growing up, I often heard my family repeat this to me. Positive reinforcement, they call it. However, instead of developing my self-esteem and confidence, I became burdened by the weight of expectation. I once remained speechless for 5 minutes during an interview - so great was my fear of disappointing the panel with the wrong answer. That was the cycle I lived in.

I have spent the last decade fighting this cycle by choosing paths that were significant but not necessarily conventional. After my national service, I spent two years in a bible school which taught me that life is measured by love; by how much we give. It is with this perspective that I have spent 3 years working at a charity organization whose beneficiaries were people with an intellectual disability. I have also led volunteer groups to Thailand and Nepal to conduct camps for youth and to serve at an orphanage.

This is the story of my life so far: to take every experience, no matter how bad, and turn it into something beautiful so as to inspire and encourage others.