On Loneliness

If we are getting lonelier in a modern metropolis, it is perhaps because we can no longer find someone who can unburden ourselves. In almost every metropolis, there lies a paradoxical, inverse role which runs counter to what a densely populated city might suggest. But why are we feeling lonely?

Our sense of loneliness is generally an expression for our longing for love. Perhaps it stems from the fact that we always have a high-minded sense of the gravity of what we are doing. As we grow up, we realise the cruel characteristic of the universe that our existence is actually of little significance. Whether we exist or not does not demand a slightest degree of change in the universe. This might be the reason why we often harbour a confused wish to embark on a relationship so our trivial existence may take on a certain value. After all, we are still at heart ordinary human beings who embrace narcissism and hope that someone in this world is able to feel what needs to be felt and understand what needs to be understood.

In this technologically innovative era, friendship takes on a new form. It conspires to kill our ability to be patient and nurture shallow relationships through platforms such as facebook, twitter, blogs, and forums. While we are aware that our personality traits are as diverse as the glittering stars across the sky, these online platforms choose to define us with the mere categories of religious views, nationality, genders, political ideologies, and the likes. They refuse to give a clear-eyed investigation to what might constitute our souls and the depth of our sentiments that wish to provoke. The world of the internet has led us to provoke a doubt in the depth of relationships with those whom we, by definition, call friends who are unlikely to bear the same mental bonding as those in the past.

We no longer know how to be good friends which suggests that we no longer know how to love. Most internet relationships (especially those whom we know in reality) are often based on the past. Online bonding stems not from what is distant, but rather from the happy memories that can only be obtained through retrospect. But real friendship should also look forward to what might happen to us. It should not only enforce a common ground for nostalgia, but also it should also offer a guidance to the future, be it a goal or a dream. Our memories are often unreliable. What we can dig up is only bits and pieces. In order to sustain friendship, we need to realise its place in the future.

However, loneliness is not at all times bad. It brings out a pleasant form of melancholy. Friendship is more agreeable when it is accompanied by intervals of separations and reunions. Only through the endurance of loneliness, we might realise the true values of friendship. Human beings are creatures of habits and liable to grow contemptuous of what is familiar. A pleasant degree of loneliness may serve as a temporary cure to boredom and intensify the bonding between friends. It evokes in us a sense of respect for others.

Technology undoubtedly makes our lives more convenient. The problem lies in how we can reconcile technology and the traditional face to face conversation. Aristotle once remarked that a life without friendship is no life. In the current educational system, we seem to neglect the fact that an education of friendship is much needed. Our lonely souls won't be at peace until we revise the place of machines in the modern world.

W

Technology and Love

An edited version of the Pub which I am one of the contributors:


Many will agree that technology has revolutionised our lives. While many of us remark that technology brings us closer with each other, it seems to dehumanise our sentiments. As technology leads us to harbour an urge for keeping pace, there lies a paradoxical, inverse role for technology to commit the exact opposite, just like a sense of loneliness is overly exaggerated in a densely populated metropolis. If technology runs counter to its original intention, is our technological obsession largely to blame or rather technology itself?

Glancing over our friend lists on MSN, facebook, and twitter, however close we are with them in reality, the profile pictures and names, be they pseudo or real, might prompt us to provoke a doubt in the depth of our relationships with those whom we sentimentally call friends. There seems to lie a high wall, namely, the computer screen, that renders our souls unfathomable. If technology is to offer what it originally suggests, why doesn't it ferry our wounded souls to a state where intimacy is celebrated?

If technology pulls us away from each other, it is because technology, with our glorified inventions of mobile phones, the internet, and aeroplanes, renders us too easy to reconnect with each other, just like photography is thought to assure us automatic possession of beauty. Instead of seeing the internet as a device to enhance friendships, we use the medium as a substitution, seducing ourselves into thinking that technology can always allow us to exchange our inner feelings with each other. But what this frame of mind actually does is not only that it draws us apart, while persuading us to take pride on multi-tasking, it also invites us to pay less attention to the minute details of our feelings. It follows a similar trajectory as photography, thinking that technology also assures us automatic possession of friendships.

Moreover, while our longing to express panic and despair requires an act of charity from our friends to be heard, the chatting message box closes itself off from other possibilities of communication and invites us to undermine how a hand gesture, a speaking tone, a facial expression, and body language might urge us to articulate emotions which are deemed implausible to deliver in mere words. It deprives us of the ability to empathise and express what torments our souls.

In a romantic relationship, it is not uncommon to hover our declarations of love and our determinations to end a relationship through text messages. Aside from the insincerity due to the lack of face to face conversation, what technology undermines is how beauty matters in expressing our longing for love. Texting messages induce us to say what we want to say in the most convenient ways. That is, by simplifying our ordinary language into some sort of inexplicable technological language such as "I luv u" rather than "I love you".

Moreover, since technology is about keeping pace, many of us are unable to bear the patience to appease our romantic yearnings as fine prose stylists who articulate our hands to jot down beautifully balanced and poetic phrases. If we do not feel the need to write beautifully, it might be because we tend to think that our romantic partners can easily take in the message in whatever style, even when it suggests vulgarity, regardless of the link of beauty with its effectiveness. But that is precisely the reason why our romantic sentiments are accompanied by intervals of vacuum and fulfilment. They slip from our minds too easily. Small wonder why our female counterparts repeatedly challenge us with questions such as "how much do you love me?" or "what do you love about me?" or the likes.

Other than friendship and romantic love, technology also wishes to destroy our relationships with strangers. It must be borne in our minds that connections with strangers have become almost necessary in the world of internet. We communicate with them through emails, twitter, and forums. However, our reactions to strangers have become dehumanising as well. Rather than leaving our responses as humans, behind every avatar or profile picture, we tend to condemn it as machine rather than as a human being. Skimming through posts regarding politics and ethics, one can find the most imaginable insults in the most vulgar language against the thread starters. Most of them, often as anonymous or some pseudo-identities, are insulting as if they are stripped of responsibilities as humans. They are reluctant to accept themselves as grown up adults who need to accept the consequences for what they have done. If they happen to suffer criticisms which seem too churlish to deny, they could just disappear by not replying at all. How easy marked qualities of human beings can be wiped out by the invention of the internet.

Is it our technological obsession or technology itself? In the technological civilisation of ours, at one level it would be foolish to avoid the necessities of technology, but at another level technology may pull us away from the human values which ought to be preserved. In our modern educational system, while urging us to integrate technology into classrooms, there seems to be a lack of education on how to use technology properly. In the world where haste is praiseworthy, we often recall the question of why but neglect the question of how. The online world nurtures shallow relationships. The education of technology and love is much needed if the world is to be sane.

Next time, spend your time over meals with your friends rather than chatting on MSN, write love letters to your lovers rather than texting messages over mobile phones, and most importantly, try your best to avoid using anonymous and pseudo-identities as names and respond as a human.

W

On The Permanence of Love

Upon securing a romantic conception of love, we all tend to seduce ourselves into romantic optimism, that the creatures we have successfully located are the ones from our dreams. Though countless novels and films often remind us of instances of breaking up, though thousands of songs often warn us how unstable love can be, though experience confirms us how fragile it can be, deep inside we all still wish to appease our romantic yearnings with our unshakable faith in its indestructibility and stability. If our longing for love seems so inevitable, would the heavens smile on us and ferry our wounded souls to a place where it can promise us with the perpetual existence of love?

During the first few months after we fall in love, we are often left with no choice but harbour a wish that she must be the one we are going to spend our rest of our life with. If love aims at communication and understanding, then it suggests that there lies a paradoxical, depressingly inverse goal in love which completely runs counter to its original intention. Perhaps the easiest people to fall in love are those whom we know nothing. Our attraction for our beloved ones stems not from our constant intimacy with them, but rather our lack of understanding of them. Though our close acquaintance with them at one level brings us closer with each other, but at another level it suggests that they are also stripped of defences and subject to physical and mental scrutiny. Whether they do not look as good without makeup, whether their tastes in fashion and books conflict with ours, whether they pick their noses vigorously without using handkerchief, what are previously thought as angels are immediately condemned as material beings, susceptible to cold light of criticisms. How easy our fantasy can be interrupted by our need to fathom one's soul.

If our expectations of love are contrary to what the reality suggests, it is because we naively think the ones we are with now are those whom we fell in love with at first glance. While most of us consider life a process of becoming mature, we seldom think our partners submit themselves to the same process. The modern world, with the help of technology, is changing with an incalculable speed. Our lives are filled with various experiences which are deemed too implausible to be identical with others. Is it sane to think what constitutes our partners' souls will remain the same? Is it sensible to secure our love of regularity for those who operate within the same mortal coil? If our desires and opinions are susceptible to change as time varies, why, then, can't we expect the same from our partners? The same burden no longer inhabits the same soul. Most of us are in fact not aware of our blind submission to Platonic utopia where eternity is praiseworthy and change is despised.

Until this point, it seems we are necessarily driven to the conclusion that love cannot last. Our romantic fantasy is only an illusion. But does that mean we are enforced to endorse the view of romantic pessimism? That our journey of love must inevitably be accompanied by intervals of happiness and despair? If love can offer conclusive evidence of our existence, perhaps it suggest that we look at love from the wrong perspective. Love often conspires to impute similarities rather than investigate differences. However much our tastes and opinions conflict with theirs, there are always great numbers of things we find agreement on that have caused us to fall in love in the first place which seems churlish to deny that we are not meant for each other. The impossibility to reject the invitation of romantic fatalism urges our minds to be full of wonder why a person who is seemingly a different species can command her mind with fluidity to articulate our opinions and tastes in the same sophistication or even better. If love is about bonding us with what is identical, then perhaps romantic love should be seen as a process of self-understanding. Our partners are like full-length mirrors, forcing us to reflect our verdict of them on ourselves, delivering us knowledge of who we are and what we want to become. Our despair at romantic love comes from the fact that we see it as an ends rather than a means, a destination that we have longed for rather than stops in our journey of life.

But if we have to insist on making love last, then we may be compelled to take Marcel Proust's advice, namely, infidelity. However, he does not encourage us to actually perform the act, but only through the threat of it. So long as we are creatures of habits and liable to grow contemptuous of what is familiar, the only hope to make relationships last is to induce our partners to believing that they might suffer the loss of their beloved. Jealousy may serve as a temporary cure for boredom which leads our partners to realise they may not appreciate us at its richest and fullest. In return , they may do things in order to assure themselves amorous possession again. The only drawback is perhaps the repetitions of infidelity whenever boredom kicks in.

If our longing for romantic love has to be excused from sorrow and grief, we must revise certain notions of it and attach it to more a "correct" and "just" value. We need to learn to entertain the inevitable incompatibilities of love and construct a new philosophy regarding its nature. However much love can torment our souls, it makes our mortality bearable. It makes our life take on a certain value which is not trivial. Love can offer as much optimism if we learn to love properly.

W

On Self-Understanding

Upon a leisurely stroll in a bookstore, in spite of our prediction of the commercial future of books, it immediately throws our focus on the self-help section. If most readers favour self-help books, it is perhaps because deep down we all long to fathom our souls. The modern world has enforced us to abandon optimism of everyday life. Bombarded with financial concerns and romantic affairs, we often find ourselves in muddle of what solutions can be offered to fulfil our psychological needs. We start asking ourselves: What am I? Where can I find my own vision of happiness? What do I really need in life to sustain happiness? Questions about ourselves evoke in us a lack of self-understanding that perhaps we must consult self-help books for treatments designed accordingly to adapt to our different selves.

Folk wisdom assures us that we are the only ones who are capable of understanding ourselves. Thoughts and inner feelings are only confined within ourselves. They are only private affairs and granted access under psychological scrutiny. How could a stranger penetrate into our minds when he does not belong to our selves? How could he perform a clear-eyed investigation when he is physically distracted by our appearances?

Unfortunately, folk wisdoms do not always bear scientific scrutiny. Our faith in the ability to understand ourselves has risked inspiring a misguided narcissism and an unfair neglect of the people who surround us. In this scientifically progressive world, it seems sensible to cast aside societal conventions that have been left unsaid and favour a trust in science. Modern psychology reminds us of a contrary fact, that perhaps our friends, our lovers, or even strangers may know us better. If the people who surround us allow us to see ourselves in a proper perspective, it is because we seldom submit our own introspection to the rigours of rational examination. Instead, we tend to rely our judgements on intuition and emotions. All too often we tend to think of ourselves as admirable and consistent in thoughts. Rather than paining ourselves with truth, we like to seduce ourselves into the realm of psychological optimism, rendering us insusceptible to flaws.

As long as we are biased towards ourselves, the people around us often offer a more objective judgement about our characters. Our awareness of existence stems not from being able to perceive what is around us, but rather from what others think of us. The reason why friendship and romantic love are important is that we need them to legitimise our existence so they can ascribe to us a more "correct" and "just" identity. People allow us to be beautiful only when they look at us with an aesthetic eye. They allow us to be funny only when they have a cultivated sense of humour. They allow us to be compassionate only when they are as well compassionate. Without friendship and romantic love, we are stripped of the ability to realise who we are. Only through the recognition of friends and lovers, we find confirmations of our existence and identities.

Our identities are perhaps most exaggerated in a romantic relationship. In "The Symposium", the Greek philosopher Plato remarks that our familiarity with lovers stems from the fact we were originally joined as a whole. Which is why we constantly look for another half in order to complete ourselves. Love, according to Plato, conspires to impute similarities rather than investigate differences. It allows our opinions and tastes to be articulated with fluidity in our lovers. It suggests the possibility of us allowing intimacy with our souls. It offers consolations of the fact that someone actually understands what we think needs to be understood and feels what we think needs to be felt within us. Therefore, romantic love is not an ends, but rather a means to self-understanding because it enforces us to open up ourselves to someone who may know ourselves or even better.

In order to understand ourselves, we should consult our friends and lovers because they can evaluate us based on observation of our past behaviours. They will not be clouded by our tendency to make up terrible excuses to defend our deeply flawed psychological selves. Real friendship and romantic love are based on a pessimistic nature of being able to stab us in the front, paining us with the truth. But in this technological civilisation that wishes to destroy the most precious human sentiment, will we still be able to appreciate love?

W

Our Cravings For Technology

An edited version from the Pub which I am one of the contributors:

Our demand for electronic products, most notably mobile phones, has become increasingly stronger. Just when we are considering whether we should get an iPhone, Apple will start bombarding us with newer versions of it. Just when we are struggling whether we should get a Kindle, Apple will remind us of the release of the iPad. In the technological civilisation of ours, technology never ceases to generate our previously neglected material needs and conspires to escalate consumerism and our financial necessity to a newer level. If technology, as we have been told, is to simplify our life, why, then, does it create more problems rather than solutions?

Our prediction of technology is generally way ahead of our time, but typically frighteningly true. Our unaided minds can no longer ward off the thrills these devilish technological products wish to generate. These products enforce us to lose our power of concentration. Rather than letting us take our time to read the instruction manuals, new products emerge to assure us possession of even more sophisticated machinery.

Take, for instance, mobile phones. It is not uncommon to see them being dumped before they deteriorate. Driven by the free market economy, the life span of a mobile phone is artificially reduced from five years or longer to a merely half a year. Upon our contemplation whether we prefer touch pad or traditional buttons, technology will have already moved on before it reaches the market, suggesting that perhaps using our inherent linguistic instinct is better than our traditional reliance on bodily movements. How much easier a phone call can be made by mere utterance.


If any criticism, aside from the environmental issue, has to be made for the undue progressiveness of technology, rather than blaming it on businessmen who are legitimately testing the limits of capitalism, perhaps it comes the time our human nature should suffer analysis. Though the internet invites us to render them redundancy, new models of fax machines never cease to appear. Though the iPhone is pretty much capable of handling everything, there is a rising trend that using an outdated mobile phone which was once popular in the 70's is considered stylish and hip. Though pressing buttons is generally regarded as a more convenient way to dial phone numbers, one might preserve his own aesthetic obsession by perfectly fitting a rotary telephone into his vintage home. Therefore, the undue progressiveness of technology has owed much to the market, that is, the consumers, rather than the morally confused businessmen. Our desire for novelty is gaining its unmentionable gravity.

Are we then eternally condemned by our desire of novelty? Are we, as the philosopher Karl Marx predicted, destined to be obedient drones under the capitalist society? Technology may perhaps put us in a passive role and deprive us of what it means to be human, but that does not suggest that it is impossible to reverse the role. Most world religions realise that there lies an archaic suspicion of the changeability of human nature, so rather than modifying God's work, they seek to suppress desires by sending us off to churches and reading scriptures every hour or every weekend. However, all this is too pessimistic about the human race. We should, on the contrary, direct it to outlets that are less harmful.

Our longing for technological products is largely based on magazines that tell us what the current trend is. If we are to liberate from the bondage of Marxist accusation, we should look for style that suits us rather than what advertisements tell us. All works of design tell us about the kind of live we wish to live in. They tell us about certain ideals we wish to sustain in ourselves. While helping us in practical ways, they should also reflect on us certain ideas of good life and what we want to become. Therefore, we do not just need a mobile phone that can help us connect with others and allows us to browse the web using Wifi and 3G, but we also need a mobile phone that speaks to and for us. It should suggest the values that we uphold and console our longing to express panic and despair.

We are not necessarily led by technology. Our conscious selection of styles allows us to strike a balance between tyranny and free will. It articulates the idea that we all long to preserve the values that are nearly destroyed by our mechanical civilisation but at the same time we can no longer refuse to realise our technological needs if we are to survive in the modern society. So instead of submitting our taste to iPhone and Blackberry, we should find mobile phones that are perfectly moulded so as to represent who we are.

W

On Leaving Home

As a student studying abroad, summer encompasses a special meaning for me. It reminds me of certain long-forgotten virtues which a capitalist society disapproves of: friendship, the love of family, and perhaps romantic love. It comes the time when my loneliness and nostalgia are finally consoled. In the intense heat of this summer, glancing upon the cloudless sky and the austere sun, I still recall the moment when I departed from Hong Kong in the previous summer. If leaving home is to have any profound psychological impact, it is perhaps because I am enforced to temporarily cut off my sentimental bond with what is familiar.

I woke up on the day of my departure, staring at the cloudy sky, dark clouds kept blowing in from the west, confronting me with a thunder which was about to tear through the sky. Depressed, I washed myself up in the bathroom and got dressed. Before I left my apartment, I wandered around it for the last time and farewelled to the familiar inanimate objects.

As my mother and I went downstairs, we took a taxi to the Airport Express station. During the fifteen minute trip to the station, the preponderance of conversational poverty, to my surprise, did not enforce a sense of loneliness. If silence were not directly linked to loneliness, it might be because we were all inwardly consoled by the presence of an analogous feeling. The fifteen minute of stillness would only often be punctuated by the occasional electronic command to turn right or left until the taxi reached glass-fronted building. It was the Air Express station.

It made me feel a bit optimistic towards the human race when the taxi driver summoned a long-forgotten virtue that scarcely exists among human beings and helped us pull the luggage out. It prompted me to think there was at least a portion of human beings caring to display the unusual friendliness and generosity. As we restored the value on our Octopus cards, after we passed through the gates, we decided to check in first. After checking in, I felt as if I had lifted off the burden on my shoulder so I could carry with a sense of lightness to travel to the airport, and ultimately, Houston.


However many material goods I had lifted off, my feet felt unbearably heavy as if my mind could not command with fluidity to articulate them towards the Airport Express. If I could not feel the slightest degree of lightness, it might be because material goods were extrinsic to my existence. At this precise moment, I felt like I had a sudden awakening that I finally realised why the French philosopher Rousseau history was regressive rather than progressive. In the technological and material civilisation of ours, we had unconsciously slipped away from the state of nature. We no longer cared for the love of family, friendship, the arts, compassion, and romantic love. Our tendency to latch onto material goods is the mere product of civilisation and commerce, suppressing human nature at its best.

My minimalist reflection perhaps urged me to study the setting of the station with a bit more imagination and attention. The setting gave weight to the feelings that it wished to provoke. It reminded me that life, aside from its material aspect, centred itself on psychological needs which our capacity to draw happiness was critically dependent upon, among them our longing for love and expression. How I wished I could stuff my backpack with the best moments being with my friends and family and the love they had been vigorously giving me.

Perhaps my biggest mistake was my inability to escape the bondage with my own self. I realised that my own existence was defined by my experience. My psychological dispositions were worn out by countless instances of grief and sorrows, with small intervals of happiness. However advanced our technology had become, it failed to console the core of my misfortunes and difficulties. While standing in front of the Airport Express awaiting its doors to be opened, I feel frustrated at the heaviness of inhabiting the same body and soul over and over again. How could we strike a balance between lightness and weight? How helpless a human being could be.


Seated in the train, looking at the small TV screen on the back of every seat, I heard of the announcement telling us we would arrive in twenty eight minutes. Though I was truly grateful of what technology had done for our civilisation, I could not help but wished the train could extend its travelling time perhaps up to an hour or more. During the trip to airport, there were often exchange of phone calls and texting messages. Never was a moment technology gave me so much warmth. I often glanced through the window and took in the passing scenery. All buildings passed by mercilessly. The sky was getting dark and seemingly seeking revenge of my leaving. It conspired to render me a sense of melancholy and a sad suspicion that happiness was not attainable.

In exactly twenty eight minutes, we arrived at the airport. If the airport were so different from other commercial buildings, it was perhaps because it was the centre of civilisation where freedom, tolerance, and diversity of cultures were brutally celebrated. People from across different continents were stuck in a long queue awaiting to get their boarding passes. Restaurants were filled with people having their last lunch before boarding the plane. My mother asked me whether I wanted to grab something to eat. I looked around and examined all the American fast food chain stores. After moments of contemplation, I sighed and replied no. What sort of restaurant I could set my feet on when these restaurants highly resembled those which I would encounter after twenty fours hours on a different continent.

We walked into a bookshop. I glanced over the familiar covers of magazines and decided to get a copy to read on the plane. After I got my copy of the magazine, I started to wonder why most airports everywhere in the world had to have bookshops and what precise aspect of their aeronautical identity would have been violated without them. If bookshops were important in airports, it might be because it served as a prelude to catastrophe. However modern technology amazed us, we would still be stripped of defences in front of the destructive forces of nature. Science was still unable to assure us absolute certainty in machines. At this moment of helplessness, we might as well take refuge in the wisdoms of philosopher and all the great religions. But this was where I find these bookshops puzzling. In spite of my prediction of the commercial future of books, the death of philosophy, literature, and holy scriptures were overly exaggerated. Because it was precisely these books allowed us to maintain dignity in the face of death and if we were lucky, what frame of mind we should possess when we fell back on Earth.


Yet the bookshop was just a prelude to the emotional climax of the day. It was time to set my feet on the restricted area. At this critical moment, what dignity should I possess, while my tears were reluctant to burst out, in order to neglect my hesitation and bring out my best courage to pass by two austere looking bodyguards to get my ID and fingerprints scanned. At this point, I started to think how airports prompted us to display the delicacy of our emotions at its best. They offered us unceasing chances to express our longing for love. They created moments where we were comfortable to expose our emotional vulnerability. They also put our minds at ease with the thought that there was actually someone who would give more than a minute's thought to our absence. So much hugging and weeping, it was almost as if the airports were designed to honour these activities. I then said goodbye to my mother and walked into the restricted area.


In the restricted area where I got my ID and fingerprints scanned, there were only a few counters dedicated to the traditional staff to assure us interaction with human beings in this technological world. I then got to the security line. I had to put my shoes, my belt, my jacket, and all my belongings into a plastic box in order to assure my lack of possession of explosives and weapons. Before crossing through the X-Ray machine, I had, for a moment, worried about my absence-mindedness whether I actually possessed weapons in my backpack or pleaded to serve the extreme Islamic terrorists months ago. Fortunately, the X-Ray machine restored my confidence in my memory.

After going through the security section, what was in front of me was a great variety of shops which suddenly made the airport a shopping centre. There were high-end fashion shops like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Chanel and the likes and duty-free shops that were composed of flasks of perfumes, bottles of wine, and packs of cigarettes. Aside from those, there were more bookshops and luggage shops. At this point, I recalled that there was a long-standing criticism against the dominance of consumerism at airports. If travelling through the sky rendered us susceptible to catastrophe, then perhaps we should spend the moment before boarding the plane as our last moment rather than shopping.


As I walked along, deriving pleasure from window shopping, I thought to myself whether shopping should really be severely condemned by the critics. On the face of it, shopping might only seem to satisfy our material longings. But on closer examination, our capacity to draw happiness from material goods was critically dependent upon our psychological needs. So what we shopped for did not merely just fulfil our vanity, but rather it was a material manifestation of what we loved. They helped to sustain our moods and reflect back to us certain ideals about what we might become, something that served as a silent protest against pure meditation on death and pessimism.


As I approached my gate, I was surprised to find Muji there. Muji was a Japanese chain store that articulated the ideal of minimalism by selling a variety of products such as furniture, food and drinks, stationary, home goods, and clothes. I walked in, urging to buy something, be it a drink or a travel kit. If I had an urge to buy something, it was because it provoked in me a sense of sentimental familiarity which reminded me of Hong Kong rather than Japan. Though there was nothing to buy, I got a drink which might help to mitigate my nostalgia.

I was announced that I was allowed to board the plane. Standing in line, waiting for the staff who worked for United Airline, who displayed no sign of friendliness, who spoke to me in English when they clearly knew how to speak Cantonese, to check my passport. After passing through a narrow corridor, I boarded the plane.


On the plane, before taking off, I made some of my last phone calls which on the other end all the familiar voices consoled me that another year would pass by quickly. Nevertheless, this moment on the plane conspired to generate anxiety and fear in me. If I felt anxious, it was because these phone calls were perhaps the last ones I could ever make. After saying perhaps the last goodbyes, I turned my mobile phone off mercilessly, wishing myself all the best. As the plane was projected up into the sky, I took my last glance at the city where I grew up in as if I was looking at it for the last time. From my backpack, I took my sleeping pills out. While upon looking at my neighbours, the way they read and watched movies reinforced a sense of self-pity on me and led me to admire the courage in them for they were able to fiercely confront darkness and surrendered themselves to our technological inventions which were susceptible to errors. I had witness human confidence at its best. For my part, I took one sleeping pill and determined to go to sleep. Because if any plane crash were to happen, I would not wish to wake up.

From our home all the way to the airport to boarding the plane, we should not forget what lessons departure has to offer.

W

On Anti-Idolisation

Originally published on the Pub which I am one of the contributors:

If celebrities have become less respected nowadays, perhaps the process of anti-idolisation is largely to blame. In the entertainment business of Hong Kong, there hover various forces contributing to this process: the paparazzi, karaoke, our love of physical appearance, and celebrities' active participation in various industries. We are now living in an era where we show no expression of fear when we ask for autographs and photographs. Being a celebrity no longer restricts to a group of professional elites. It is no longer necessary to raise celebrities to a godlike status. If the entertainment business is no longer a closed shop, what does that suggest about anti-idolisation?

If an uprising of artistic movement in Hong Kong has become necessary, it is perhaps because karaoke is a contributing factor. It successfully invites us to bring out the artistic part of us and harbour a confused wish to become pop stars. It induces us to believe that singing does not require any God-given talent, that it can be practically mastered by anyone from any class, that we can surprise the audience by bursting our lungs out and memorising lyrics. How easy a once privileged business can be wiped out by the courage to utter in front of microphones.

It is not uncommon to see that celebrities are stripped of defences in front of the paparazzi. They allow us to spend time on scurrilous gossip about them over cups of coffee and packs of biscuits by articulating their pens over ambiguous images that hint at something about their immoral habits and relationship status. Their divine images can suddenly degenerate into the profane which suggests that they are just as secular as us.

If blogging is to have any benefit, then perhaps it provokes in us a democratic vision to be writers. Though it is hard to determine what might be so attracting about writing, what precise aspect their celebritarian identity would be violated without writing, celebrities always find it irresistible to take their precious time out to participate in this unpopular industry. A leisurely stroll in a bookstore confirms my point. In spite of our prediction of the commercial future of books, though most sections of the bookstore are dedicated to loneliness and the death of literature is exaggerated, a specific corridor that is crowded with people always gets our hopes up about people's literacy in this society. From a sufficient distance, this corridor seems to be filled with notable novels and essays. On closer examination, those are actually journals written by different celebrities who wish to strip off their mysterious appearance and expose their personal lives to their fans, therefore successfully downplaying their artistic superiority.

Perhaps the most decisive blow of celebrities is the emergence of second-rate imitations of Britain's Got Talents and The American Idols. The preponderance of these shows seem to allow easy access to the entertainment industry. It inspires in us a democratic outlook that we all can see ourselves as stars. Being a star is not as unapproachable as it used to be. It helps to defend the fact that our society is based upon meritocracy that the system is fair and just. It draws a sharp contrast with the tedious working routines of laymen. Who would want to work a job that has us deal with insincere handshakes and work overtime that does not guarantee any extra pay while success is highly rewarded if we get to win a prize in these shows?

What we are witnessing here is the emergence of what the British journalist Toby Young calls a celebrity class, namely, the "celebritariat", which places itself between the rich and the middle class. This industry is no longer controlled by a few professional elites. It shortens the gap between amateurs and professionals. Unfortunately, this is all illusion. Just as meritocracy is a tool to justify economic inequality, it also creates an illusion that it constantly needs new blood so as to make it seem we are allowed easy access to it. It does not guarantee a long-term fame, but rather just to satisfy our vanity. It follows a similar trajectory as meritocracy to endanger its existence by closing off to new members. If meritocracy is a system that is critically dependent upon personal achievements and talents, why, then, can't people use the same reason to expel us out of the top of this hierarchy?

Moreover, the celebrity class has devalued the notion of stardom. It destroys our fantasy to become pop star because it becomes as easy as breathing. The charisma of a celebrity lies not in a longing for expression, but in how to defy the audience's ease of understanding, creating a sense of ambiguity as something secular yet unreachable, just like a prophet who acquires human characteristics but at the same time a messenger of God. If the easiest people to fall in love with are those whom we know nothing, it is because we are creatures of habit and liable to grow contemptuous of what is familiar.

The "celebritariat" has risked inspiring the delusion of meritocracy and an unfair neglect of stardom which is entirely destructive to the show business. It has made us lose our hopes in perfection. It has made us realise truth is always painful. Next time when we gather around meditating on gossips about celebrities, rather than concentrating on topics whether who is married to whom or whose breasts are bigger than whom, perhaps we should contemplate the place of celebrities in our lives.

W

On Education

If we are asked what good is education of, it is perhaps because education offers us what we need to know for life by the early 20's. However, there exists a tendency in our modern educational system that it has dedicated itself to examinations rather than learning. Our ordinary school life has been increasingly spammed with tedious study lists, tutorials, and field trips to libraries. Education no long aims at what we should care for life. Instead, it goes on to blur the distinction between studying and learning, assuring us survival in the examination system.

If examinations are raised to a status of supreme importance, it might owe its origin to businessmen who have foreseen the necessity of the commercial future of education. In the commercial civilisation of ours, education should be designed to equip us with techniques for marketing, dealing with insincere handshakes, and bureaucracy. It seems Aristotle's maxim "Man is the measure of things" is no longer valid. Rather, "money" should be a substitution for "man". They constantly remind us that money is an object of worship, that it should be considered ends of life rather than means, that it is the sole guidance to happiness. The death of the arts and humanities are exaggerated because they are generally economically unproductive. The commercial future of education therefore evokes a sense of intellectual pessimism, cramming our skulls with lots of useless business case studies and facts that supposedly celebrate the glory of capitalism, something which we will soon forget after receiving our report cards.

But perhaps the fundamental danger of the modern educational system lies in offering an objective criterion of what success is. Rather than acknowledging different individuals may nurture different talents, our educational system suggests that we are likely to amount to ultimate failure if we are unable to get our hands on a Porsche. If the idea of success can be defined in a single, precise definition, it is perhaps because we are reluctant to realise our limits. To realise our limits is to hamper the potentials that lay beneath us. But if an architect can work with the materials available to him, why, then, can't we accept our own limits and explore our potentials within them? Why can't we place focus on ourselves rather than the herd to understand who we really are? We need to realise where we belong to. To discard what our nature limits is to become self-indulgent (because forgetting our limits may seduce us to be overly optimistic about our own abilities). Understanding our limits not only allows us to become humble, it also allows us to discover what we are actually good at, urging us to be specific instead of being generic, hence nurturing our own potentials at their best.

Does that literally mean that we all too indulge in the absurdly romantic fantasy of education? Does that suggest schooling is no longer as important as we assume it to be? Are we all destined to suffer financial assault on the university sector just to learn how to use human greed appropriately to get on the top of the social hierarchy? All too often we realise we learn much more after we get out of university. Modern education no longer offers what we need to know for life: the kinds of friendship, romantic love, and a taste for dance and music. It cannot teach us how to be a good friend or how to console our broken heart after breaking up with our loved ones. It only intends to integrate minimalism with our anticipation of what life should be. It neglects the fact that our capacity to draw happiness from material possessions is critically dependent on our psychological needs. But learning can go alongside with what we do in everyday life- shopping, bathing, eating etc. Only after our feelings are furnished, we might start to learn how to cope with life.

Our education is getting demoralising. Tedious study lists and examinations are only fit for obedient drones. They do not work for creative originals. It is always better to devise our own study list rather the ones given to us. To think that we will have learnt everything we need to know for life once we get out of university is simply naive romanticism. Small wonder why Bill Gates and Steve Jobs dropped out of school.

W

On Horoscopes

An edited version from the Pub which I am one of the contributors:

Do you believe that being born in a certain place at a certain could determine your destiny for the rest of your life? Would you believe that your personality, your class, and your taste are all set from the day you were born? It is no surprise for astrologists to answer yes for the above questions. They assure us, with strong conviction, that it really matters whether we are born under the sign of Libra, Cancer, or Germini. While some may laugh these questions off as mere superstitions, astrologists have nevertheless succeeded in inducing many of us to harbour a sense of awe for the solar system, that planets and satellites are the decisive factors of what we do, that we ought to bow to necessities greater than ourselves.

In the technological civilisation of ours, our eyes should be full of wonder what science is capable of by a mere glimpse through the windows of electronics shops that offer countless choices of digital cameras, mp3 players, and mobile phones. Unfortunately, science has not triumphed. On the contrary, we derive consolation from a system devised in the second century A.D. which has not changed much ever since then, neglecting further astronomical discoveries and changes. Flipping over pages of women's and gossip magazines, particularly women's magazines, we may consult experts in astrology for a deeper sense of self-understanding and to know what may happen to us beforehand in months or weeks or even in days.

Perhaps there lies a seductive power for female readers in horoscopes. Women, conforming to their customary female curiosity for inner selves, unlike men who are only fond of physical appearance, tend to submit their thinking to the rigours of astrology rather than that of rational examination. In light of horoscopes, they are able to determine who can be their good friends or who may appease their romantic yearnings. On getting to know a stranger, rather than wasting time enquiring his background history, a simple question of his horoscope offers a woman well-grounded reasons to verify or dismiss his merits and qualities, based on an encyclopedia of astrology she bought in a commercial bookstore a while ago.

But does astrology assert absolute truth as it suggests? If it sounds right to us, it is perhaps because of its lack of precision. It may predict on which day we may encounter good luck or what kind of personality we may unknowingly possess. But it fails to tell us at what time what sort of good luck may happen to us. Moreover, what is good to someone is not necessarily good to us. Why, then, should we endorse the authority of astrology and proclaim it a supplement to a scientific branch called astronomy?

The belief in astrology also evokes a sense of fatalism, that human beings are mere slaves of cosmic energy, that the existence of free will is an illusion invented by countless philosophers and Christians, that at moments of melancholy and frustration we could only be consoled by wearing specific colours of garments or specific flavours of perfume. It has risked inspiring in us the most dangerous form of tolerance. It has justified Social Darwinism that being poor should be seen as deserved rather than as an outcome of the ills of capitalism. It condemns all our struggles for a better future, while placing us in a passive position, it only tells us to wait for things to improve naturally.

At times of suffering, we may perhaps need to enlarge our capacity to endure suffering like the Stoics did in ancient Greece and Rome. But there is an alternative solution. Just like the British philosopher Robert Rowland Smith said, "To write your own horoscope for the week, and then do your best to make it come true."

W

On Reincarnation

In the modern scientific civilisation, at moments of melancholy and frustration, it seems sensible to cast aside religious beliefs in favour of a trust in science. If science can remedy the abuses in our psychological selves, it is perhaps because the development of psychology has grown to be one of the most respected branches in science. However, on witnessing instances of suicide due to bereavement and failure of locating creatures to appease our romantic yearnings, it is deemed too implausible not to forgo scientific assurance and dedicate ourselves to meditating on volumes of biblical and Buddhist scriptures. At moments of uncertainty, especially when one has near-intimacy with death, religions can often serve as guides to advise us how we should lead a good life.

In most Indian religions, there exists a tendency to believe we are going through a cycle of rebirth, namely, reincarnation or samsara, after our death, depending on our karma- an accumulation of all the good deeds and evil deeds that we do in this life, until we achieve liberation from this cycle. If, for example, our evil deeds are weighing over our good deeds, we are likely to be condemned to be an animal or insect in the next life, or vice versa. The concept of reincarnation suggests an egalitarian value in most Indian religions, that human beings are not necessarily the masters of nature, that as trivial as an insect may one day transcend to be human. However egalitarian reincarnation may seem, there lies an unresolvable paradox that it inspires.

If the cycle of rebirth offers equal opportunities for every living being to go upper or lower, then it invites us to face the cruelly confusing characteristic of lower beings: their lack of ability to reason. What should a cow do in order to become a human? What karma can it accumulate in order to liberate from reincarnation? Perhaps one might be tempted to think of its faithful submission to humans as objects of religious sacrifice or as nutrition to enhance our physical health as reasons of being able to move higher. But are we too overly optimistic to think that a cow is able to summon a long-forgotten human virtue named compassion up to a level that is comparable to that of humans? Are we allowed the superstitious faith that a cow could one day evolve to possess our moral capacity? Most lower beings, with the possible exceptions of primates and apes, will eventually end up finding themselves in a situation of being restricted to a process of never being able to transcend higher.

Most Indian religions are not as egalitarian as they suggest after all. The distinction between higher and lower beings suggests that humans are the only ones who are capable of finding their way out of reincarnation. Perhaps in the most unmentionable, the most familiar form of social hierarchical order, we always have a high-minded sense of the gravity of what we are doing. We are still at heart subject to an unforgiving logic which we ignore at our peril that we can feel free to disrupt the food chain and chisel the wood forests for pecuniary purpose because of their ecological insignificance.

But not all religious concepts are to be taken literally. Most of the time, on the contrary, they should be taken as thought experiments. The fact that we dwell upon on what would happen after death drags us back to the present. If reincarnation has us worry about what life we may have after death, it suggests that we are not as satisfied about our life as we think we are. Reincarnation invites us to focus on the present. It cuts away the unnecessary distractions of the past and the future. It liberates us from our overly indulgence in the past and our illusionary faith in the future. It enforces us to give weight to the feelings that the present provokes which we seldom elaborate upon during the tedious routines of our life. It reminds us of having to live our life as we want to rather than as we should.

In our secular world, as religious beliefs have become more subject to scrutiny, we often neglect the implications of life they have to offer. Rather than superficially condemning them as triggers of our tendency to be superstitious, perhaps we should take a few moments to contemplate the texts with our impartial minds.

W

On Style

An edited version from the Pub which I am one of the contributors:

Coco Chanel

Fashion fades, only style remains the same. - Coco Chanel

If we had to pick a single characteristic that defines the people who live in a metropolis, that would be our deep love of high-end fashion. In a society where money becomes an object of worship, there exists a belief that style in fashion can also be purchased. Stalking from shops to shops in malls, walking out of them carrying bags that are printed with recognisable logos, that does not just suggest we are only followers of certain trends, it also suggests that we have style. In the modern world where consumerism becomes predominant, being stylish simply means wandering around on the streets with a monogram pattern Louis Vuitton purse, or if you have a subtler taste, a pair of Jimmy Choo's moulded so as to fit a woman's feet elegantly. But do we necessarily have to follow trends in order to be stylish? Do high end fashion brands necessarily offer us style?

In 1910s and 1920s, one of the most revered fashion designers Coco Chanel invited women to escape from their bondage to beaded, flower-patterned dresses. Rather than associating the customary female sensitivity in colours with fashion, some black modernist rectangles of cloth were designed to fit the contour of a female body perfectly. This is how Coco Chanel thought fashion should go. If we lived in the 20s, would all women be deemed too implausible to not follow what Chanel said? Would Coco Chanel become our authority of what they should wear? The answers seem to be quite obvious.

Perhaps for those who manage to get out of the herd instinct may criticise our blind submission to fashion designers, that trends are not necessarily wedded to styles, that clothes are merely for the protection from severe weather, since fashion does not embody implications of our intelligence and who we might be. Their problem, however, lies not in criticising our obsession with worldly possessions, but rather, in undermining our need of fashion to speak to us.

If fashion can suggest who we might be, it is because it works in the same way as a work of architecture does. A work of architecture talks to us about certain kinds of ideas and opinions that would most inappropriately unfold within our socially oriented society. The surroundings that we are comfortable with may sustain our moods, while they might not wholly mitigate the pressures of life, they certainly console. It remains true that for those who have suffered depression and bereavement that beauty can help relieve their pain.

Fashion follows a similar trajectory. It does not only suggest some kind of our aesthetic fondness which we are able to put on our bodies, but rather it is a material articulation of certain good ideas of life. It invites us to summon some of our long forgotten virtues that we may be reluctant to express but still wishfully hold on to: freedom, eccentricity, delicacy, elegance, etc. Behind its practical function of the protection of our bodies, fashion should also try to reflect back to us certain ideals as responses to the reality.

Hussein Chalayan "2010 A/W Mirage"

If fashion designers can serve as guides of who we can be, why, then, do we have to follow the trends that they lay down for us? If fashion can speak to us and for us, why can't we just wear what we would like to wear, instead of submitting our thinking to the tyranny of fashion designers? Fashion, like architecture, should reflect some of the modern ideals that we cherish. We, as adults, can no longer indulge in daydreams like those back in our school days. That is delusional. Rather, we should stand tall and accept the reality. The fact that we wear what was once popular in the 80s or what we think is appropriate is the expression of our reluctance to face the reality. Perhaps the reality is always so disappointing that we need to take refuge in something that shores up our states of mind. But the act of following trends reminds us of not forgetting some of values that we ought to preserve in the modern society.

Of course, to follow trends is not to say we are stylish. However, within every single trend, fashion designers leave room for free play. Rather than standardising our tastes, styles can still be given birth depending on how we devise our mix and match and how we entertain colours. In the sphere of fashion, it is no longer significant to ask why we should wear it, but rather, how we should wear it. Fashion, in essence, allows us to appreciate what we admire in our hearts without being overwhelmed by them, while at the same time it remains contact with modern ideals which are essential for our survival.

Jean Paul Gaultier "2010 Matriachi Tequila"

We look for style not in Vogue, but in ourselves. Style always goes with people rather than money. One group of people may naively think money can purchase style while the other is convinced that fashion is a mere excuse for consumerism. They are both wrong. Fashion speaks of our ideals and at the same time enforces us to actively participate in our society. To refuse to follow trends is to refuse to respond to the society. But not everyone is fit to carry a Louis Vuitton purse. Not everyone's body can afford to carry Jean Paul Gaultier's. High-end fashion cannot guarantee us style. But following trends should remain our supreme guidance. Being in the trend, we can still change daily and be stylish. Until fashion is given its due place, we are unlikely to have style.

W

On Comets and Stars

Think of the skyscrapers crowded with artificial lights that fill up the skyline. Think of a beautifully designed lamp seated at the corner of a modernist architecture. Think of the optical invitations of lightings during Christmas. Think of a Japanese Casio watch with its signature blue light.

What do they tell us about our society? In the age of science and technology, we are routinely drawn to the glory of artificial lights and an unfair neglect of the occasional appearance of comets and the perpetual existence of stars. Our society is having trouble perfectly reconciling two opposing virtues of technology and nature. On promoting this material manifestation of fire and the starry night, what lesson can the appreciation of comets and stars offer? Are we confident enough not to be seduced by the satanic genius of Edison?

If the appreciation of comets and stars are able offer us moral lessons, it is perhaps because it invites us to summon our long forgotten virtue called "patience". The gospel of technology enforces us to associate productivity with haste, rather than conforming to the rigours of immobility, we tend to think the virtue of haste is the only possible way to give birth to civilisation. Technology has made us lose our powers of concentration. It has risked inspiring our inability to be alone and unstimulated. Even the most beautiful painting can barely detain us for more than thirty seconds.

But through the appreciation of comets and stars, we may be able to revive a form of previously neglected beauty. The starry night invites us to derive an aesthetic satisfaction wholly different from that of artificial lights. Though technology may make us easier to obtain beauty, but it does not simply the process of appreciating it. It seems to deviate away from its original purpose, instead of enhancing our attention to the minutest details, it urges us to use it as a substitute and therefore distracts us by offering an overblown variety of choices of artificial lights and an automatic possession of beauty without any conscious effort. The starry night, on the other hand, has us focus on one particular element, namely, stars, cutting away all unnecessary distractions, making us aware of the distinction between gazing and looking. Only through patience, we may begin to notice things which we previously neglect, taking up our vision to a higher level.

Another benefit we may derive from the appreciation of starry night is perhaps an occasional encounter of a comet. But seldom we even catch a glimpse of a comet. Is that because they seldom appear or is it because we no longer look up to the sky? If a comet is to offer any idea of life, it is because it suggests that most of the things in our life are in constant flux. It invites us to live with a sense of never letting the thought of death easily slip away.

All too often we may not appreciate the value of things while we are in the process of doing them. But only through retrospect, we may realise this is where happiness is fully acknowledged. As products of natural selection, our possession of memories enforces a nostalgia tendency. When we reflect on our worries and anxieties of work and our state of loneliness, we are pressured to think of our school days which are relatively stress-free and the reunion with friends months ago. Our happiness stems from the existence of long-lasting memories. But we are always too late in noticing the fact those days are long gone because we are often obscured by the optimistic thought that tomorrow will be much like today and the cruelly pessimistic thought of an unexpected event that will rupture our refuge in stability. A comet allows us to come clean with the fact that calm is only an interval between chaos, that almost everything is susceptible to change. Nothing is guaranteed. A comet prepares us a mind-set to accept the reality and expect the unexpected.

The most important lesson we may learn from the starry night is that we are remotely ignorant of what our universe is happening at the moment. The appreciation of stars is a mere excuse for our imperfect eye visions, something invented to make up for the lack of optical evidence, therefore falsely seen as objects of beauty rather than horror of cosmic explosions which happened million years ago. How easy a scenery of calmness and peace is disrupted by the unseen reality. But our ignorance of cosmic explosions suggests we often neglect the present. Our life comprises two confusing characteristics: our deep longing for the past and our wish to hope for a better future. Our happiness is acknowledged from the past but at the same time we entertain the uncertainty of possible happiness in the future. But these two characteristics distance us from the present. The present is where we live in at the moment. To indulge in the past and the future is an expression of our fear to face the reality. But this is delusional because yesterday is long gone and tomorrow never comes. In order to enjoy life, we ought to live in the present. In order to understand what constitutes happiness, our soul-searching starts from today rather than the past and the future.

In the dominion of technology, men have become mad and arrogant. Technology may be a material articulation of certain good ideas of life. But in the prehistoric part of our mind, there is always a deeper longing for the nature. To be a civilised being is not to be devoted to blind worship of technology, but rather, the harmony of nature and technology.

W