Let it BE: My Dad, Singapore Politics and Identity

After the first by-election Worker's Party rally, my dad came home with these flags.

My dad is ardently supportive of the top opposing game in town now, the Worker's Party. One might be tempted to associate him with the hordes of unintelligible, foul-mouthed, immature online surfers who trawl political internet sites like Temasek Review and leave distasteful trails of cowardly anonymous and unconstructive criticism directed at the PAP in their wake. Conversely, my dad actively attends rallies to offer genuine support, sends encouraging emails to Sylvia Lim (whom he has some degree of personal contact with), does not bother with posting comments on political internet sites (but does amuse himself from time to time with visits to such sites), puts his mouth where his money is by actually not endorsing government (i.e. PAP)-linked products (even if this inconveniences my household), and holds profound and heartfelt reasons for being highly disapproving of the incumbent party.

I had a chat with him today, one of the many chats I believe I should have had but did not because I was a rebellious son most of my life, so I have a lot of ground to make up for. He was chiding me for my absence for a family dinner on Saturday because I missed out on meeting some very old neighbours. They're people I would never recognize because the generation I belong to today tends to be more disconnected from relatives and old family friends compared to generations past. I asked if they were the Peranakan family that stayed next to him at the old private house in Everitt Road with the chiku tree when he was young, and he said no, they were from another neighbouring household, and were Hainanese.

Over an afternoon lull of coffee under the lazy breeze of an overhead fan, I pondered for a moment and asked him, "back then, did people see other people as Singaporeans or as people with differing origins?" In other words, I was asking him about a classic psychological concept, the self-construal, whereby people are defined by how they perceive themselves (often in relation to others). In this case, I wanted to know what comes to mind first when my dad or other Singaporeans back then thought of other people - as Singaporeans or as originating from elsewhere (e.g. Peranakan, Hainanese, etc). What was the automatically defining trait of Singaporeans?

My dad immediately said Singaporeans, definitely. Even though his father was technically an immigrant from Fuzhou, he said that the kind of sentiments today compared to back then are clearly different. Foreigners and immigrants who came in, like my grandfather did in the 1930s, never received incentives for coming to Singapore - they were escaping a hard life elsewhere and were seeking opportunity and had to work equally hard as compared to locals (although there probably wasn't such a clear idea of what a local Singaporean back then was). My dad feels that these days, foreigners are more than welcome to come in, and with such entitlements they will not feel such a strong need to learn local customs and integrate. My dad said that my grandfather had to rough it out really hard and therefore earned his right to be a Singaporean. And perhaps, because of the tumultuous political climate back then against neighbouring countries, there was a greater sense of unity among such differently originating people because they had to work together against external elements and build up the economy. Additionally, households were closer back then - neighbouring families would visit often, look out for each other and their children would play and grow up together. One often could leave the doors open without fear of burglary.

So, my dad thinks that policy-oriented efforts today by the incumbent government to foster integration is bollocks because he doesn't believe it would work. Further, my dad actually doesn't believe the government really cares about integration; foreigners will always be welcome for not-so rosy purposes.

 

To accompany my dad and share in his enthusiasm (I support the WP now but I'm not particularly hardcore - support, to me, isn't all about allegiance) I decided to join him at the third WP rally at the huge Hougang field. I did not regret sweating it out and braving the stuffiness along with thousands of other highly (and rightly) discontented Hougang residents. Throngs of people were gathered to support the party that has stood by them for two decades, and if it isn't so much a preference for the WP in the form of votes for Png Eng Huat, it was to show that there was no way they were going to accept PAP's Desmond Choo running the show in Hougang, especially since the PAP has been punishing Hougang residents by denying them all sorts of residential improvements for twenty years, simply for being a WP stronghold.

There are two sides to everything. One could say that this episode (preceded by the watershed General Elections last year) is divisive and destabilising, and feeds hate and disunity. On the other hand, it is important to acknowledge too that this means many Singaporeans (certainly not all) are shedding their apathy, standing up for something, and perhaps forging an identity that has been otherwise artificially decided for them by the government for over five decades. These are teething pains, but from the spirit I witnessed, I think it means we are growing as a nation just a little bit more.

Just a disclaimer though; I think unintelligible, irresponsible, anonymous, unconstructive online criticism is the most pathetic product I've seen coming out of this entire political saga. It is really disgusting to read comments consisting of nothing but cheapshots and mindless agreeing with many other people who just want something to hate. Maybe another post for another day.

As if this couldn't be any more cute...

At Chinhong's suggestion,

Everybody's Favourite Little Team These Days

Is Newcastle United quite possibly, being the team that nobody seems to dislike, everybody's favourite side team now? That is, if you aren't already a Newcastle United fan, you'd find them irresistably hard not to admire?

Everywhere in football world where the BPL is concerned, Newcastle's praises are being sung far and wide, particularly after their smooth 3-0 victory over Stoke City. After that disastrous campaign where they got relegated, nobody expected them to bounce back so quickly, if they were ever expected to bounce back at all. And after a spate of what looked like very bad decisions (offloading Enrique, Carroll, Nolan and Barton), Pardew's shrewdness seriously turned the tide and Newcastle are on course for a top-4 finish and a chance at European championship next season.

Every other "top" team in the BPL now has its demons it is villified for. Manchester United, Manchester City, Arsenal, Chelsea, to some extent Tottenham Hotspur, and certainly the much maligned Liverpool, all have their critics. Newcastle United, on the other hand, appear to be the team that the BPL is proud to have in the top-4. It's an amazing feeling, and possibly one that non-fans might never really know. But we really got stuck in and it's one heck of a fairy tale ride.

It's funny how the fortunes of one football club can emotionally affect thousands of people around the world.

http://www.nufcblog.org/2012/04/newcastles-genuine-top-4-assault/

Refuting the Atheist Professor vs the Christian Student

Written almost a year ago, I'm not sure why I hadn't come across this earlier, but I'm glad it's been written.

The story about the atheist professor getting pwned by the Christian student (and maybe that student is frickin' Einstein) has lived on way past its sell-by date, and I'm hoping this article should drive a decisive nail into its coffin.

I really like how the author ends off.

http://religionvirus.blogspot.com/2011/07/refuting-atheist-professor-vs-christian.html

Quite possibly the only scenario where men are more capable than women at multi-tasking.

Doctorate Studies

Today marks a checkpoint in life where I've made a critical decision - to accept the SMU PhD offer.

This has come on the end of months of applications, letter writing, solicitations for referrals, correspondences, and anticipation and disappointment. In the end, quite disappointingly, I was down to two options out of a possible nine - SMU's financially supported PhD programme, or Oakland University's MS programme where funding is not guaranteed.

I must clarify that the disappointment is solely to do with the lack of acceptance letters from elsewhere; I think working with the particular professors I have in mind at SMU will make my doctoral studies at SMU very fruitful. But it will never take away the fact that I was hoping to at least be able to pick one from a few offers.

But anyway this is still a momentous time because I've finally come to a decision and I'll now be able to just look ahead and focus.

I had to regretfully decline the OU offer because my parents can't afford to pay to put me through another few years of incredibly expensive education, and I wouldn't want to burden them anymore anyway even if they were willing. The decision to reject is still regretful because through correspondences with my potential mentor (who is a stalwart in the EP field), it looks like OU will be up and coming; Steven Pinker and Richard Dawkins graced events that he organised. I will be missing out on working with them when even meeting them would be a divine honour at this point.

But that's that; it's never worth the time and emotions looking back and rueing missed chances. With a spot in SMU, I've got my ideas set and potential researchers I'd want to work with, and I'm going to publish my ass off.

Looks like I'll be around these parts for a little longer! Stay tuned for more papers.

Me-search

I think social sciences research is especially and uniquely interesting for being a lens that peers into the soul of the practitioner like no other type of research can. People who are passionate in researching topics in the social sciences - psychology, politics, sociology, etc - are often that passionate because their research is "me-search"; a substantial part of their work goes towards understanding something about themselves.

Consider the researcher who delves into the psychology of sadness - he has a longing to comprehend how such a profound emotion can have such a grip on his life. The feminist researcher writing sociological papers on female empowerment must somehow feel like her capabilities are undermined by how society regards her biological sex. Then there is the four-time divorced relationship expert, who is so knowledgeable of the dynamics of relationships simply because he is hungry for that ideal relationship he has never been able to attain and can't stop pondering deeply about it. And we may also turn to our friend, the mental health researcher, who is prompted to enter the field because a very close childhood friend of hers suffers from depression.

Many prominent, expert researchers in the social sciences are quite likely good at their specific research interest because within that research interest lies something that will puzzle them for life. That desire to overcome their very own life puzzle can provide the fuel for a life-long obsession with a particular topic or issue.

Essentially, all of such self-directed research, or me-search, stems from a deep-seated need to understand issues that plague the restless researcher so that, from understanding, he can control the problem and ultimately justify either his desires and actions, or his inability to overcome the forces that hold him back.

So, budding social scientists, what personal demon of yours is going to both torment and consume you, and at the same time make you produce great bodies of literature?

Psychology of Attraction Podcast

Dr. Rob Burriss, who runs OracleLab and the Psychology of Attractiveness Podcast (PAP), has featured my paper in the March 2012 PAP.

Taken from his website,

Apr 1, 2012

Why a gameshow host’s chiselled jawline can make his contestants smarter, the exact number of daily portions of fruit and veg that are required to boost beauty, and why counting money makes men choosier.

Download the MP3

New research shows that The Voice's format is right for the wrong reasons: by concealing the contestants from the judges, the judges aren't influenced by appearances, but also, by preventing the contestants from seeing the judges, performances aren't given an unfair boost.

The articles covered in the show:

Whitehead, R. D., Re, D., Xiao, D., Ozakinci, G., & Perrett, D. I. (2012). You are what you eat: within-subject increases in fruit and vegetable consumption confer beneficial skin-color changes. PLoS ONE, 7(3). Read summary

Yong, J. C., & Li, N. P. (in press). Cash in hand, want better looking mate: Significant resource cues raise men’s mating standards. Personality and Individual Differences. Read summary

Flowe, H. D., Swords, E., & Rockey, J. C. (in press). Women's behavioural engagement with a masculine male heightens during the fertile window: evidence for the cycle shift hypothesis. Evolution and Human Behavior. Read summary

Academic Publishing Debut

My first published paper is finally available here:

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0191886912000876

Yong, J. C. & Li, N. P. (2012) Cash in hand, want better looking mate: Significant resource cues raise men’s mating standards. Personality and Individual Differences, 53, 55-58.

More to come for sure!

Really funny how things transpire. Can't wrap my head around it.

Why We Cheat

This is a fascinating read, written by Lisa Taddeo for Esquire. More than the ideas themselves (she's bold for her claims), it's the inch-perfect use of sensual imagery:

More than I believe in the sanctity of union and promise, I believe that everybody cheats. If you have not cheated yet, it's because you are still too grateful to be secure, or you have not yet had the opportunity, or the right color of red hair has not come along and sat down at the bar on a Tuesday when the jukebox was playing Leonard Cohen and your manhattan tasted like the future.

http://www.esquire.com/features/why-we-cheat-0412

When I was younger, I harboured the idea of being an illustration artist. That materialised somewhat into a service I provided before I entered NS in 2005, where I'd draw caricatures for clients. The novelty was that I'd use MS Paint to a large degree to do these drawings, for a fee.

The idea proved to be far too impractical, because MS Paint is obviously one of the slowest design tools one can use (although I like it because it is one of the easiest and most powerful design programmes). I didn't want to continue doing it. But after a handful of completed assignments, word got around about my service and til this day I still have friends asking for a drawing, and I'm still complying and still churning out those pictures. It's hard to turn many of these requests down because there's always a heartfelt reason behind why they want it done - as an anniversary gift, to salvage a relationship, to bid their closest friends goodbye - I've often pulled through these time-consuming works because I somehow feel the anticipation they have for that moment they show it to whoever they've wanted to include in the picture. It's too much of a letdown to refuse that. And I don't think I've ever failed to meet a deadline.

So, on Monday, a friend of a friend asked for a drawing. She needed me to draw her and her 7 colleagues, which she will then give to them as a parting gift as she's leaving Singapore for Africa. It's the craziest deadline I've ever been presented with, but I took it up. After 3 insane days, I delivered the drawing to her 5 minutes before 6pm, which was the time she absolutely needed it by.

I usually do not mind taking my time to draw and design, even if it takes waaaay too long by most other peoples' standards, because I do enjoy drawing. After this episode though I will think harder about taking up such time-tight assignments.

I don't think I did a great job and in fact I couldn't include some of the effects that, I think, make my drawings unique. Those effects take very long to accomplish. While I'm not proud of this (most artists will know how knowingly delivering subpar work feels), I knew that having the drawing was more important than the quality itself to her.

Most of the people I draw now are people I do not know. The social distance between me and the client is often something like a friend of a friend of a friend. But drawing faces and caricaturing them makes me intimately familiar with each person's face. If I see them on the street, I will recognise them, and they have no idea what I know. It's a strange feeling.

Also, in the case of my work, my drawings are nicer when they do not reflect accuracy. In the end it comes down to imagining what each person is remembered for, and then emphasising that.

Now that this is done, I can finally take a break.

Egocentric Update

Since this is a personal blog afterall I will change tack from the usual abstraction of ideas to writing a toast to my own recent life.

One could measure his days by the books he reads. For my recent past, I have the following to offer:

Rob Kurzban's Why Everyone (Else) is a Hypocrite
Doug Kenrick's Sex, Murder and the Meaning of Life
Stephen MacKnik & Susana Martinez-Conde's Sleights of Mind
David Buss's The Murderer Next Door
Mark van Vugt's Naturally Selected
Tony Clink's The Plan
John Townsend's What Women Want - What Men Want
Kay Hymowitz's Manning Up
Paul Davies's About Time
Desmond Morris's The Naked Ape and The Naked Woman
Geoffrey Miller's Spent
George Orwell's 1984 (yes, very late, but better late than never)
Robert Ornstein's The Evolution of Consciousness
Richard Wrangham's Demonic Males
Richard Wiseman's Quirkology
Ernst Gombrich's A Brief History of The World


A more concrete narrative of my life would probably revolve around the time I graduated from SMU and the whirlwind period between then and now, marked by the heady days of cheerfully preparing my graduate school admissions applications, the trip to San Diego for the SPSP Conference, working at Behavioural Sciences Institute, all the interesting little politickings happening in the academic office, and the anxiousness of not getting the most ideal responses from those graduate programmes I wanted to go to.

I can't quite complain about the life I've had from August last year til now. I've got a job that pays me a decent monthly salary that allows me to, kind of, do whatever I want, whenever I want. I've got great colleagues - all budding academics with egos so huge they want nothing to do with you unless you've got something to offer, which is great. I've been encouraged so much, particularly at that now distant and somewhat faded period of time between November and December where recommendation letters from my professors poured in, and I'm grateful for them. I looked all set to go - I published a paper in Personality and Individual Differences (which is still in press now but forthcoming soon) which I adapted from my honours thesis. On top of the award I received for my thesis, I also clinched the Baylis & Smith Oxford University Press award for the best world politics essay. That was a surprise. I was also given an Oxford University Press book voucher, which I used to acquire John Lewis Gaddis's We Now Know - Rethinking Cold War History.

Then the rejections started coming in. Anxiety, to some extent, reared its small ugly head for the first time. I'm never one to be fazed by things, so I tided through that phase, hoping for the best. Nothing came along. From 8 schools, I was down to 2 last options. Then things got both buoyed and complicated by an acceptance letter from SMU (which is not included in those 8 ideal schools). I was back to having to make a decision. That period of time from February to March made me see some of the strangest behaviours in my professors. And then I learnt the reason why I kept getting rejected - one by one, all the prospective mentors I sought after and emailed vehemently started deciding they did not want to accept students. Almost all, except for UPenn. No surprise there with its ivy league status. Now, that was irritating. What do you do when you ask a prospective mentor if he's taking students and he says yes, and then after you've done up all the documents and paid the hefty registration fee s/he says that s/he's changed her mind?

So now it's down to 2 schools left, or SMU. SMU isn't all that bad, but it can never offer that experience of training and living abroad for at least 4 years.

My salary, although decent, can never be enough. I do so much stuff on the side, drawing, writing and editing.

I'm meeting people every other day, exchanging so many ideas and hearing so many perspectives, it's fuckin' good times. Some days I work up to 18 hours, but it doesn't feel like work at all. And then yet I still have the freedom to visit my old friend, Le Baroque, every now and then. These days, guestlists are a common fixture and unless I'm invited to VIP, I'm a spoilt slug.

While I'm on a high with my projects, publications, awards and social life, the one thing that will determine my future is caught in a jam right now. But I have a month left to decide. Let that slowly come, but when it does, I'll put my foot down on it. I believe that life is measured by one's regrets, so choose wisely, don't sweat the small stuff and regret nothing.

Go

If that's all you will be,
you'll be a waste of time


And she said, "keep trying, don't give up."


The time is nigh to decide.

Can't keep this thought out of my head. Can't put it aside; just keeps creeping back. Stood in the way between consciousness and sleep so many times. A novel feeling, a new notion, but a dangerous one, this. Learning, realising. Becoming reminders.

Its importance. Entitlement. The meaning of staying, caring, and love. How the rest fare in the absence of it. What a union entails. Youth. Hanging on. The echo of desire. Aching.

Senses

So hey, you, could you give it a rest?
Just take me home and get me undressed,
Put on a fire and make it enough,
Oh, we're geeks, but we know this is love.

How should we like it were stars to burn, With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.
- W. H. Auden

I can't imagine a love without an equal balance of power, or at least one that has equity in the long run. Anything else, whether I'm the one who loves more or the other way around, just sounds potentially too tragic, toxic, unstable and damaging.

Moviesss

Watched these movies while flying between Singapore and San Diego. Not too bad a way to check off the passing hours!






Next up, I'm really looking forward to catching this one:

San Diego Day 7 01/02/2012

One picture I forgot to upload last night - it's a "herbs" store. The small text promises herbs for happy, healthy, high and horny.

This trip originally looked like a 10-day stay in San Diego, but in reality when traveling time is taken into account, it's actually only a week. With my flight at 6.18am tomorrow, tonight's gonna be tricky!


Got a message from my dad asking me to get keychain souvenirs, so I paid a visit to the nearby random-stuff store to look around. I think this is the funniest thing in there to report! Anyway I went a little crazy on the keychain buying, spending US$35. Crap!

What ensues here is a bunch of photos I took after deciding to explore San Diego's expanse of beach.





Ocean Beach ends off at this point where the sea enters land and becomes a river.








I spot a bridge in the distance. It must've been over two kilometres away at that point. Me being me I decide to trek over.





The river starts off as a marsh - ducks make it home.



A skateboarding park. There were some very decent skateboarders in there.


<-- Mission Bay Park
<-- Mission Beach
Dog Beach -->

I didn't actually think Mission Beach, immediately above Ocean Beach (which is also known as Dog Beach because it's a popular spot with dog owners), was so accessible. Seeing this, I started to wonder if it was possible to go all the way up to La Jolla, the furthest north beach in San Diego.



Entering the bridge that passes over the San Diego river.

<-- Mission Bay Park
<-- Mission Beach
Ocean Beach -->
Downtown -->














I found myself in what I think is a very swanky and expensive chalet-like place with a pier. This was the start of my discovery of what an expensive American getaway can be like.




Was getting hungry from all the walking (probably covered three miles), so I settle into this cafe where I found the owner animatedly talking to one of the patrons, both in excited agreement that fast food is a travesty. Sounded promising that the food that comes will be of home-made goodness, and indeed it was. Ignoring the standard fries, this was a sumptuous classic Philly Cheesesteak.



Sensing that there was a lot more to be discovered and traversing the coast wouldn't be too difficult, I decided I needed a speed boost. Got a bicycle!

Anyway, some quirks about this bicycle: Those handles are really stupidly designed. They make me grip the handles in a weird way and my wrists eventually will ache, so I end up grasping the ends of the handle instead like they were joysticks. Another thing is that there are no brake grips at the handles. I later find out that to brake the bicycle, I had to cycle in reverse.







These are photos of Mission Bay, a man-made giant salt lake, and those are houses. What an lavish place to live!


Passed by a theme park on my way towards Mission Beach. None of the guide books said this was here!


Mission Beach is comparatively more bustling than Ocean Beach.




Soon, I was at Pacific Beach, the second furthest north beach in San Diego after La Jolla. Those houses alongside the beach are vacation homes for rent.


The waters pushing against the shore of Pacific Beach come directly from the Pacific Ocean.



7-10 Bar - the place with open mic on Wednesdays. Kris told me about it yesterday and said he'd be down to perform tonight. He actually told me to hit him up for drinks, but I couldn't get my phone to connect to the network and thus couldn't contact him. Too bad then!





I pitstop at this bench, and end up chatting with Claudia, a smiley elderly woman who has lived in San Diego since 1981.





La Jolla is up ahead! But alas, I had no idea how far away was La Jolla, plus it was already 3.30pm and I had to return the bicycle because the shop closes at 4.45pm.




I spent some time watching these ducks (yeah, those tiny dots were ducks). It was fascinating - they were socialising (well, I can't be sure, but it looked as if they were), and sometimes they caught fish by dunking their heads into the water with their feet in the air, or by flying and skimming the water surface and then stabbing at fish while gliding.


I'm not sure what birds these are (yes, those dots are birds) but I think they were socialising too mid-air. Stop asking me how I know.


Dogs coming out in full force as sunset approaches. But I guess I wouldn't have taken this shot if not for the cute blonde in shorts haha.







I rest out on the rocks, watching surfers conquer the waves. It's the first time I'm seeing such big surfable waves for real.

Quite a solid distance covered today, I think! Maybe 15 kilometres?

Anyway it could be that it's still, residually, winter in California right now (OBI Hostel classifies November to February as winter and charges lower rates during this period). But I think it's way too cold for me to appreciate the beaches here right now. Coming from hot and sunny Singapore, I have my notions of a good sweat at the beach before dipping into the cool (but somewhat warmed up) water for relief. Over here, it's actually very cold! I wouldn't want to walk along the shore, where the icy winds are blowing in like crazy, without at least wearing a cardigan over a t-shirt. I can't imagine what going into the water must feel like.



I return back to the hostel to find that a fair has sprung up! All sorts of edibles were being sold - from teas to honey to fruits - with the odd t-shirt shop here and there. Buskers were everywhere, as Jason Mraz songs filled the air.


WTF, 草泥马!?

And OMG this unsurprisingly smug guy has an iguana. I want one! I'll look this smug too if I had one, or a chameleon.


A last look at Newport Avenue, as my 923 bus taking me to the airport pulls up at the bus stop. I've decided that the plan is to head to the airport around night, and stay overnight at the airport til my 6.18am flight. This will save me a night's accommodation.


While at some bookshop at the airport... WTF more 草泥马?!

Another grueling set of flights await me; my next update when I'm back in Singapore!