Float

Float

Wednesday 11 May 2016

You are unique, just like everyone else

A tribute/response to good writing.

~

We are all different in the same ways.

We rebelled against 'fashion', grungy teen and young adult culture borrowed entirely from the West, against pop music which all the radio stations played, against the cheesy Chinese and Korean dramas that people incessantly watched for the same plot. We romanticized the hidden gems, the culture hiding in plain sight; 50 years on, we're still looking for independence. So we looked for local. We looked for what was neither Chinese or American. But the truth is we detested any kind of subscription. We couldn't see why anybody couldn't see they were part of the masses. We neither liked the incumbent nor the opposition, we believed we understood why there was a conflict in the first place - because nobody can be certain of being totally correct. So we dressed to show we didn't care about dress. Shirts, shorts and slippers. A lot of black, a lot of free t-shirts. We prided ourselves at living frugally.

The down-to-earth, hawker centers of Singapore called to us, beckoning with great local food, and some feeling of 'genuine culture'.

We loved the idea of an indie band. We wanted to be special, to discover a new philosophy. The musicality of some bands lacked depth of talent, a fact we detested. The balance of tones and bass notes reeked, the electric guitar wasn't too bad. The instruments were usually top notch, and it was always the Singlish accent that caused discomfort. Were we uncomfortable because they sound bad, or because they all tried to sound as white, as western as possible to correct their local tone? Are they mainstream yet? We knew them first. You could've said they were a good band, but we bought their album from a live show that at first there were only 20 of us, and now it''s 300. We used to play them on our phones all the time, though it was replaced, in awkward disappointment, for better indie bands overseas.

We wanted people to hear what we're hearing but deep inside knew we feared losing being special, we hated ourselves a little for that pettiness. We dreamt of jamming out in our own bands, making our own designs; higher art would probably have been considered frivolous in our society, yet it was the most academically rigorous. We tasted the scam in overpriced bubble tea and coffee, we treasured the local haunts, the hidden gems of local cooks and their family recipes. We ranted at expensive food with small portions, most of them 'western'. As if that aglio olio was better quality than the minced meat flat noodles. We felt bitter, but we knew it sustained itself in some galling satisfaction that we were better because we were just different. We were trapped.

We felt like self-proclaimed vegans and vegetarians were fads, paying lip-service in their privilege affording expensive 'healthier' options. We didn't understand expensive haircuts, expensive branded clothes, all franchised, all from the latest fashion magazines. We didn't understand praying to our ancestors, to praying to little statues of smiling fat men nor wooden statues of emaciated thin men on crosses. We hated the rat-race, the education system that perpetuates it, while respecting our teachers for their underpaid sacrifice.

We hung out with cynicism, people like us, people who disliked the dystopia outside, and would much rather eat, sleep and play video games, fiercely defend our nerdy disposition. We found solace in each other knowing that we weren't the only ones not going to the club to waste money and listen to lousy music while bobbing up down with people pretending they know how to dance. We disliked people who complained about 'trivial' things like the weather, but we were complaining about those people all the same.

Our grandparents sent us money in red packets, telling us to be doctors, not to get a boy/girlfriend until we finished our studies. We believed our art and music weren't that great, so we never dreamed, and would never know if our parents would have shown us their expected grimace or smile with pride. We chided and mocked people who were following their passions. We were trapped.

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I intentionally paraphrased, even copied parts entirely; not that it matters much, but narrative credit to Alex.

~

"You're fucking naive." But really who knows these things? I honestly have no response, and I obviously am not the best person I could be. Are you? Have you considered that I don't have the benefit of being brought up a liberal? I'm no genius either, and I don't remember everything I've read. If speaking my mind only elicits judgement, then am I to endure it for being who I am? Hedonism can seem faultless at times. But it's true, and I'm sorry if I don't know the world as well as you do.

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