...虽然知道"世上没有解决不了的难题", 却找不到要解决问题的价值所在。
Last week, I:
- rejected a job offer. Truth is, the offer wasn't all too attractive, but it wasn't all that bad either. Moreover, given my situation at work, I thought I'd grab any opportunity that came by. But no...I turned it down. What does this mean? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm (still) not ready to give it up yet, or maybe the boat wasn't the right one. Anyway, I'm quite tired of thinking through this issue, so I'll leave things as they are for the time being.
- reacted badly to one of my prescribed meds. It impaired my vision severely. At one point, I was seeing not double, not triple, but a trail of 20+ images when I waved my hands in front of my face (rather like mouse pointer trails, actually.) I have since gone off the medication, but without it, I'm on my own. It's nothing major - won't die without the meds - just that things will be more challenging from now on.
- (we) celebrated our wedding anniversary on Sunday. Actually I was in no mood for celebrations because I am just so vexed over so many things, but Thomas took me out anyway to try and get a breather. I hated letting my mood get in the way of our date, but I couldn't help it. Sigh. But the dimsum tasted great nonetheless - long live my emotionally-detached tastebuds!
Hmm, that was not a good week. I hope things pick up this week.
This isn't meant to be a morbid discussion - but a personal, matter-of-fact reflection on suicidal thoughts.
Many people have pondered upon this question: "Why would a person make plans for tomorrow if he was going to commit suicide today?" And from this question, suspicions of the circumstances of the death arise. While I do not dispute that this indeed could be a clue to foul play in some cases, sometimes it may not be that strange for a person to plan for a wonderful life ahead and then suddenly decide to end it all. Inconsistence and contradictions are part of human nature, are they not? To use a local colloquial term - people can sometimes be like "roti prata" (an Malay Indian pancake), flipping back and forth between their perceptions and decisions. More so for a deeply troubled soul struggling between sudden bursts of optimism and the quicksands of depression. Who's to say when he crosses the boundary between the two? Haven't you felt on Cloud Nine one day, only to drop into the pits the day right after? The only difference is how long one holds out till the next Cloud Nine. If we manage to hang in there and wait it out, we may get enough "happy fuel" to top our tanks up with and continue with our journey. Some don't last till their next Cloud Nine, run out of gas midway and thus cut their journeys short. Not that bizarre, in my opinion.
And on the other hand, there are perfectly happy people who live their lives from day to day with nary a plan for the next hour, let alone tomorrow. In fact I think many happy people fall into this category - they are happy-go-lucky, trust that nature will run its course, and therefore enjoy each day for what it is worth without worrying unduly about tomorrow. Does the absence of future plans mean these people are at a higher risk of suicide than those who plan? I should think not.
My point? Suicidal thoughts and plans for the future are not necessarily inversely correlated.
I noticed this at Chitose Airport, while in a state of extreme boredom in between delayed flights. The Japanese call their airports "空港", a variation from the chinese term "机场". It didn't strike me until then that "机场" was an inaccurate translation of "airport" - it translates into "a venue for aeroplanes". The term is apt in its own right, but it’s a very utilitarian way of defining an airport - a little too flat for my taste."空港", in contrast, is an accurate translation of air-port. There’s a beautiful symmetry too : Sea-port~海港; Air-port~空港. The word "port" (港) is also richer in its symbolism than the word “venue” (场). 港 connotes entry/exit point, and brings to mind images of business/cultural exchange and its associated hustle and bustle - all in all a more vibrant and philosophical representation of the functions of an airport than a mere venue for aeroplanes to land at and take off from.
I like it! I want to call Changi Airport 樟宜国际空港!
Not wanting to deal with the biting cold with an extra deadweight around my neck, I left the D70 in Thomas's loving custody during our recent trip to Japan. Instead, the family Lumix TZ1 and my own Fujifilm F31D were my weapons of choice during the trip. In fact, when it got too cold, Thomas kept the D70 in his bag and we fired away with one compact each. I'd say that about 70% of our shots for this trip were taken with these compacts.
It was a good opportunity for me to compare the two cameras. Of the two, the so-called "legendary" Fujifilm F31D is the more celebrated, famed for its low light capability and excellent noise control. However, from my close encounters with both during the trip, I actually enjoyed using the Lumix TZ1 more. The main reason was its better custom WB. Under odd lighting conditions, the TZ1's custom WB nearly always did the trick. In contrast, the F31D's custom WB was a complete disaster - most of the time I was better off using its Auto WB. This is its Achilles' heel - a clean picture with a horrible colour cast is, well, a clean but horrible picture.
So, for the trip, I developed a strategy, based on:
1) Lighting conditions. Under normal, sunny, outdoor conditions, I rotated the use of the cameras. When lighting was dim, I let the F31D do its thing. Its performance literally shines in darkness - pardon the corniness there! When lighting was tricky (mix of yellow and fluorescent lighting), I whipped out the TZ1 to do its nifty custom WB calculations.
2) Battery Life. There were times when the TZ1 died on me (I'd rate its battery life as poor), and I had no choice but to use the F31D. The F31D's battery performance wins, hands-down - I didn't need to recharge it during the 7-day trip. The TZ1 was plugged in twice.
The verdict? I wouldn't say one is a better camera than the other. Their personalities are different entirely. In fact, I think they complement each other, making up for each other's flaws - perhaps an offspring that marries their strengths would be ideal. Anyway, these two are old cams that have already been replaced by newer, better (?) models. Nevertheless, here's my wishlist for the cams - you never know when manufacturers decide to be generous:
- F31D - Better algorithm for WB calculations. Firmware upgrade, perhaps?
- Lumix TZ1 - A better battery that can fit into the same battery compartment.
I watched this film on the flight to Japan, not knowing it was critically-acclaimed, and also unaware that it had yet to come to screens in Singapore. I most certainly did not realise I was watching the film that would clinch the "Best Foreign Language Film" award at the Oscars just a week later. True to the film's signature understatedness, its synopsis sat inconspicuously in the catalogue, looking deceptively B-grade amongst other better-known titles. But I was drawn to it nonetheless, possibly due to the subject nature of death rites, a topic close to home as my dad is in the same line. It turned out that I was so impressed by the movie, I told Thomas he MUST watch it on our return flight. He did, and we both decided that we would get the DVD when it's released.
The pace of the film is slow and is not designed to pump up your adrenaline levels in any way. Like how you would savour a good cup of matcha, you will need to finetune your senses in order to appreciate its delicate notes and nuances. But once you have savoured it, its quiet grace and gentle strength will surely capture your heart. There are lots of reviews on this film already, so I shall not attempt another lengthy analysis. In a nutshell, the film is about a former cellist's journey of self-discovery through his newfound profession as a mortician. In the process, he is not only reconciled with his broken dreams of becoming a top cellist, he also mends his relationship with his father - albeit posthumously, but better late than never.
The film portrays death in a different light, showing that death is not necessarily always synonymous with loss and grief. It can also bring acceptance and magnify the joys of love. My favourite scene was one where family members planted lipstick-ed kisses on the deceased's face, before bursting into peals of tearful laughter and giving their loved one an affectionate send-off. What more could one ask for at the end of your life's journey, than to know that you have been loved and will continue to be?
I also liked how things fell naturally into place when the protagonist stopped pursuing what he thought was everything to him, and just went with the flow - to go where life brought him. His boss told him in one scene, "You were born to do this." Perhaps it's a reflection of the fatigue I'm feeling in pursuing what was not meant to be. Maybe letting go and going with the flow will lead me to the answers that I have been seeking.
Don't miss this - go watch it.
