My Infinite Year

In just a few days, I will be turning the ripe age of twenty-three. As I've written before, I don't think this'll lead to some sort of instantaneous transformation or magical metamorphosis. But without a doubt, this past year has definitely been hugely significant to me. I think the twenty-third year of my time here on planet Earth has seen more growth as a person more than I could ever imagine. This doesn't necessarily mean improvement exclusively, but rather... change. And it was all due to one tiny flick of a switch in my head.

If I were to summarise all my experiences this year with one word, it would be "new".

From where I was sitting,
the candles show 2 and 3.

The new city I now live in.

The new places I've visited.

The new hobbies I've picked up.

The new healthy lifestyle pursuit.

The new career path I've taken.

The new friends I've made.

The new sense of love.

The new vision of faith.

The new goals I have for myself.

The new pet rabbits.


And the one thing that allowed me to have all these experiences was simply... choice. Ostensibly, nothing changed on the day I turned twenty-two. Nothing shifted in the equilibrium of the universe, and the stars did not align to shine favourably upon me. But this year, I did start to make more conscious decisions. And I realised how wonderful that simple power is.

That very basic thought of personal choice is unbelievably empowering, and it can be found in just the simplest decisions. It can truly be the most liberating feeling. And this year for me was pretty much dictated by such choices. I decided to quit aimlessly pursuing Law and changed careers to something I had a passion in and felt where my strengths could be put to best use. I decided to try to live healthier and be more comfortable about being in my own body (a continuing struggle). I decided to meet new people, even though every single time, it would make me a nervous wreck on the inside. I decided to open up more and try to be more honest, even if it left me feeling vulnerable. I also decided to write more.

Ultimately, I decided to say 'yes' more, even to the situations that I would normally shy away from. (Note: "more", not "always".) Why? Because life is pretty damn awesome, if you think about it. I mean, don't you agree? Just for a moment, think about the infinite possibilities of your life. Not life in general, but your life specifically. Do it.

Sure, you might not get to be an astronaut. You might not discover the cure to cancer. You might not marry Emma Watson. But you might make new friends if you went to that dinner or party with all those strange new people - friends you'll have for years to come. You might discover your new love for music even though you awkwardly have no clue how to act at a concert (seriously, someone tell me once and for all: what am I supposed to do with my hands?!). You might find the dream career you want, even though you'll have to start from scratch. You might fall in love. You might discover the person you truly want to become.

Some like to say life is like walking a path with forks in the road every now and then that command you to make a choice. But what if for every step you take in life, you could turn left or you could turn right? What if you could also choose to go straight ahead? Or backwards? Or even up? I also used to think life was like a path; now I think it's more like an open field.

This may be The Fault In Our Stars speaking, but you have infinite potential as a person because you have an infinite number of decisions you can make to determine who you are. Sure, you might just be this one person, and your life has its limitations; the same goes for everyone else. But within those boundaries lies your own set of infinite possibilities, different from anyone else's. And only you have the power to make those decisions.

I have hardly reached any of the goals I have set for myself, and I'm still bound by the responsibilities and constraints of my situation. I also understand that I have been incredibly blessed to have so much in my life, which has opened up many opportunities for me. But more importantly and more than ever, I feel in command of my life. Without a doubt, I have made some bad choices this past year - deplorable, regretful, horrid decisions. But I also made a few good ones. And that sense of reward is definitely worth the risk.

With my blog posts, I hope that I can intrigue a reader enough to plant a thought. I'm not looking to change lives with my writing, but for me, it's infinitely awesome that words I write might make someone think differently, even if just the tiniest bit. I can't imagine that anyone that finishes reading this will run out the door, quit his/her job, and dedicate his/her life to being the first person to ever breakdance on Mars. But I do hope that maybe this will persuade someone to own their decisions, good or bad. Be responsible for your own happiness and your own sadness - every decision you make is your decision. And if you feel like there are elements of life influencing that decision, it is because you allow it to. You regard it as important/relevant/necessary enough to impact your decisions, and that makes a lot of sense. But I hope that you can appreciate that it is still your decision. Because if it ends up well, it'll be infinitely more rewarding when you own it.

Despite the numerous pitfalls I stumbled upon this year, I'm pretty satisfied with my twenty-third year. It was far from perfect, and me even more so, but maybe that just leaves room for more awesome this coming year.

Here's to twenty-three.

Nature vs. Nurture vs. Soup

The classic 'nature versus nurture' debate basically centres around the question of what determines an individual's traits: are they innately preprogrammed into the person's mind at birth, or are they products of environmental and third party sources? Essentially, the question is: what makes each of us the way we are? Well, I don't fully comprehend the debate, but I'd like to think of myself like a soup. Yes, a soup. Because I'm composed of a multitude of delicious ingredients, all thrown into one big pot and mixed into a scrumptious blend - yet I am still the chef. Here's why. 

Not so much chef (or soup, as a matter of fact),
but I am at least wearing an apron.

I've often attributed most of the successes in my life to others. I'm not sure when I first unearthed the thought, but I have said on a number of occasions that "I surround myself with people that are better than me". By that, I don't actually think people are directly comparable. And that statement is in fact very important to how this little theory of mine works.

You see, no one person is better than the other. But that person might be better at something specifically. So, the way I like to see those around me is that each and every one of them is better than me in one way or another (and in most cases, many ways). Sometimes, I'll know right off the bat what that might be - I'll notice they're consistently hardworking, or that they are very knowledgeable about a certain topic, or they're undoubtedly passionate about their craft - and sometimes, it might be something hidden that becomes increasingly evident over time.

Whilst this applies to everyone I meet to some degree or another, there are a handful of unique individuals I've come across that are apart from the rest. I've had the utmost honour and joy of meeting some incredibly wonderful people in my life. Four of them I've known since birth, and have had a hand in raising me and shaping me as a person ever since, to this very day. But others I've met along the way. They are all extra special to me, and even though a few of them have come and gone, they mean the world to me. These are the people that I know for sure, without a doubt, are better than me in many, if not all, respects. I love, respect and look up to them, because I know they have and are so much more than I am. These are the people I always have in my mind, and always hope to emulate. 

How this all ties into the nurture argument is that all of these people influence me. When I see these great qualities, I hope that I too can embody them. But does that mean that by just being around these awesome people, I can just absorb and photosynthesise their awesomeness? Hardly. 

Here's where I think nature kicks in. You see, it takes that thing in between my ears to determine how I can mimic these qualities. Seeing is one thing; doing is another. That is what I like to think what my personal growth is about essentially: seeing what I want to achieve, and going on to achieve it. The first part is easy-peasy when you see the good that people are capable of. The second part is the real uphill climb. 

My nature also determines which elements I choose to absorb. Just as everyone has redeeming qualities, so do they have darker ones. I myself am certainly no exception. No-one is perfect, and sometimes, the distinction isn't as clear as day and night. What makes each of us unique, I think, is how our nature distinguishes those grey areas, and then goes on to let nurture influence us. 

I'm quite sure I've taken the whole nature vs. nurture debate completely out of context, but I hope you can see the good in the mess that this post might have been (see what I did there?). Keep in mind that we can always learn something from others, and that everyone is great in their own individual way. If we can pick and mix qualities we like, then we should always try to see the best in everyone we meet. But when it comes down to it, what you specifically choose to allow to influence you, is what makes you... well, you.

Everyone in my life has been giving me these wonderful ingredients to work with. But the chef's hat is still on my head, and what makes it into the final dish is my say. And I'd like to think there's something quite wonderful about that sentiment.

Also, if you're wondering, the soup I happen to be is a lobster bisque. I'm fancy like that.

What kind of soup are you?

Home Sweet... Where?

I'm currently halfway through my two-week-long holiday back in Hong Kong. I haven't been back in about a year and a half, and it's good to be home. Or should I say, "home". It's an odd sensation, but of all places in the world, I feel a bit... out of place.

Maybe it's because I wasn't really around when my parents decided to relocate off the main island of Hong Kong, but I don't think that's the biggest reason. Everything seems so unrecognisable, yet vaguely familiar - like a feint memory of a past dream. As I walk the same streets I have walked many a time before, I feel almost foreign in the city I grew up in. And I'm not entirely sure it's the city that has changed.

I guess it's struck me that I've finally branded myself as "international". Many people have provided me with clever insight about my past blog post regarding bilingualism. They have helpfully informed me that what I was describing was in fact biculturalism - something I didn't even know existed, and am slightly shocked that the autocorrect on my blog editor isn't underlining in squiggly red like crazy (it just goes to show how great a blogger I am that other people need to explain to me what my own blog post means). I might feel oddly misplaced in Hong Kong despite ethnically belonging and having grown up here (I don't think I can even confidently say I have spent the majority of my life here anymore), but I still wouldn't call London my home. So, have I become a permanent tourist wherever I go? Because let me tell you: that's a horrifying thought.

Not my original idea, but I resonate with the concept.
I mean, who doesn't?

Despite all this, these past few days, I have had the sense of "home" returning to me. But it wasn't a question of where, but rather with whom. I've realised "home" are my parents, my brothers and my friends. They are all family to me. They give me the sense of belonging, the comfort of familiarity and the snuggly warmth of togetherness. It's the simple pleasures of home-cooked dinners, catching up over drinks, and cracking up over stupid stories that makes me feel like I'm well and truly back. Their embraces are the welcome doormat; their smiles, the front door; our relationships, the rooms; their stories, the furniture; their laughter, the lights; their support, the roof; our wishes, hopes and dreams, the windows. These people are my home. And it has never felt better to be back.

It's easy to say that we'll keep in touch, but being in different countries (and time zones) takes its toll. Even the greatest bridges has its limits, and I don't blame anyone for the distance that was created. Life tends to be a busy occupation. But what reminds me that they'll forever be my home is how quickly we snap back to being... well, us. When we're back together, its like I never left. I'm still everyone's baby brother, and I wouldn't exchange that for the world. And even if my family have my best interests in mind sending me off again in a week's time, I know that every part of my home will always be there when I'm back next time.

You know you really love something when you miss it before its gone. And right now, I miss my home before I even need to leave. I'm very fortunate and grateful that my parents can visit me in London a few times a year, and I live with my eldest brother who has always looked out for me. But I miss my middle brother very much too, and wish that we'd be able to live together again. I miss my dearest friends as well, all of whom I regard as my siblings. It does suck to know that I've missed important phases in their lives, the good and the bad, and wish I could've been beside them when they experienced those moments.

But, whether the wind strikes hard, or the rain pours heavily, this is a home that will always stand strong. These individuals form the house that shelters me, and I know I will always have a place waiting for me to come home to, however long I may be gone for.

They are the only house that is invincible. And they are truly a home that will never change.

Lawrence & 阿諾

I'm a bit obsessed with the idea of duality. Not only do I find the concept very intriguing, but it has always played a large role in my life. Let me explain.

I've always seen myself with two personalities: one that speaks Cantonese, and one that speaks English. Whilst I base these two characters on the language they speak, there are inherent differences that stem from more than just how they communicate.

You see, ethnically, I'm from Hong Kong. But I was born in England. But I grew up in Hong Kong. But then studied at boarding school and university in England. But then Hong Kong had always been my home during my studies. But then now I've got my own place and work in England. But then my parents and brother still live in Hong Kong. What all this back and forth has meant is that I feel not only like an expat, but like a double expat - neither here nor there. I feel foreign in both countries: in England, my ethnicity quite obviously did not originate here, but in Hong Kong, I possess an inherently 'international' quality, derived from the Hong Kong international and overseas schools I studied at.

I'm bilingual; I was brought up learning English and Cantonese simultaneously. Whilst I write more fluently in English, I speak more naturally in Cantonese. And yet somehow, I still feel like I lack in my colloquialisms in both languages - a sign that I've never really been in full command of either. When I meet new people, it's easier for me to speak English. But with my closest friends and family, I fall into Cantonese. But in my most intimate and emotional moments (and when I'm drunk), I express myself in English. Strangely, I can comfortably say "I love you" (to the right person), but find it difficult to utter "我愛妳" (the equivalent). So which language do I feel most natural with? Neither. Oh, and did I mention? I have odd accents in both: I have a non-native Cantonese accent, and my English accent is a weird combination of a British accent (from boarding school) and an American accent (from all the US TV I watched growing up). Double whammy.

Now that I've created this image,
I hate it. Both halves.

So what is the result of all this? I feel like I have two personalities. It's a bit difficult to pinpoint exactly where one side of me ends and the other begins, but regardless, I do feel the disparity. I would say that the English side of me is more approachable, more comical and more of a crowd pleaser. On the other hand, my Cantonese side is a lot more relaxed, more uninhibited, and more of a coversationalist. I wouldn't say that either side of me is 'fake' or a façade I hide beneath; I am very much being myself in both capacities. I quite easily and frequently slip in and out of both. You'll often catch me switching between the two languages in the same conversation - or worst yet, the same sentence (another sign I've never fully grasped full expression in just one).

However, this leaves me in a rather frustrating predicament: I'm not either, but I'm also not both. As confusing as that is, I mean that I'm not solely the English or Cantonese version of me, yet I don't feel like I'm fully both. Essentially, "兩頭唔到岸" or "two ends not reaching shore", which is a Cantonese phrase that means to try two things but not succeed on either fronts, like a boat arriving perpendicularly to the shore and neither ends of the boat actually landing ashore. Whenever I am speaking one language, I feel like there is a part of me that is being set aside. Wherever I may be, I feel alien and out of place; I've never really been able to fit in.

Luckily, I've come to meet other bilingual people. Overseas students from Hong Kong have made for great companions that understand both my tongues and cultural surroundings - not to mention my family, of course. The important part, however, is not that they understand the language I speak, but rather the personality they portray. These are the people that have come to accept both my halves.

I had feared that my twofold composition would mean that only this small, distinct sliver of people would be able to truly understand me. Instead, I should actually be hoping that this duality is what allows me to connect to more people. I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to live in different countries and to meet such a variety of people. I should be focusing more on how I can represent each of my halves in the other language, and becoming more 'whole' whatever I may be speaking. Rather than constantly feeling half-baked, this dichotomy is what makes me, 'me'. Anyone that has come to know me has learnt this too, and for that, I'm very grateful.

Now to translate this entire blog post into Chinese...

Resolution Shaming

I hope all my readers (yes, all THREE of you) had a wonderful Christmas. And as we draw to the end of the calendar year, I wonder how many of you are going to make New Year's resolutions.

Perhaps people have become more cynical (or maybe it's just me), but theses past few years, I've noticed a lot more instances of people "shaming" New Year's resolutions: mocking unrealistic goals, doubting others will be able to keep theirs past the first week (I hear gym trainers make the most profit in January of every year), and ridiculing the idea of New Year's being some sort of magical day that will instantaneously change us all into better human beings.

Now, I can see where they are coming from, and in a way, I agree on all fronts. If there's anything I learnt this year (by the hard way of failing at it), it's that saying you'll change is a world's difference from becoming that change. And so making resolutions does not equal to achieving them. However, I don't like all this resolution shaming. Some may argue it's a stupid excuse to base personal resolutions on some random date in the year. But isn't any reason at all a good reason to start some positive change?

Don't get me wrong: I like the idea of creating the reason to change out of will (like I did with turning twenty-two). There's something particularly self-empowering about making an active and conscious decision to alter the direction you are heading in. As puny little humans, it's so easy to get caught up in the fact that we can't control very much individually. Circumstances force obligations upon you, time decays your options, and luck will randomly deny you entry of certain doors - and that's ignoring all the people in your life that will fiddle with your fate. However, if we can grasp the mentality that there are certain aspects in our lives that we can indeed influence, that's a very powerful driving force.

I haven't personally created my own New Year's Day this year, so to speak. Like many, I will be relying on the 1st of January as an excuse for my resolutions. But I don't think that devalues them in any way. I won't dive into the explicit content of my list (in the sense of detail, not in the sense of being x-rated), but much like the other times that I've tried to generate some change in my life, I want to base it on two visions: the person I am now, and the person I want to become. As much as that may seem like it makes sense, it's a rather unreliable process because it relies on me having clear vision of both of those people, so that I may decide what I should let go of and what I should hold onto. And I'm not known for having the best eyesight - literally and metaphorically.

Regardless, I hope I'll be able to implement and maintain these new personal goals and changes in my life stepping into 2014 - the whole "new year, new me" pizzazz, hopefully without the narcissism. I'll also be ignoring all the naysayers; let their predictions be just that - predictions. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little positive change in your life, whatever your excuse may be. I say, any motivation is good motivation.

Besides, what else would I rather be doing counting down to the New Year? Watching fireworks? Partying it up? Waiting to kiss someone at countdown? "Sleeping before midnight" - that's on my list.

Emanations

I've always thought that if I had not studied Law at university, I would've enjoyed studying English Literature instead. I've always had a passion for language and literature, and the unlimited power and effect that can be communicated through words. But recently, I've also wondered if I would've enjoyed studying Sociology (the study of human social behaviour) or Psychology (the study of mental functions and behaviour) instead.

It doesn't take Sherlock to identify the pattern of subject matter throughout my posts. I focus heavily on interpersonal relationships, and many of those posts are just brain spillages of my day-long thoughts. And the reason why I do put so much thought into it (and actually enjoy the personal discoveries I make, correct or incorrect) is because it really does occupy the utmost importance to me.

Hopefully without sounding artificially profound (I get the sense I give that impression), I like to think of myself as an ever emanating existence. I constantly emit these ethereal strings that tie me to every person that comes into my life. Some will latch on, most will probably fall through. But for those that do, I slowly learn what each line of string means. What kind of string is it? How strong is it? How is it changing? Do I want for this piece of string to exist? I'm not always thinking about all my relationships constantly (it's mentally exhausting just thinking about doing that), but once in a while, someone or some event will trigger the thought of a particular connection within me.

Now to take the idea a further step, if I remove myself from the equation completely, and leave behind only the emanations I have made throughout my life, what kind of picture would they paint of me? How close would that image be to what I think of myself? Is that what I want to be seen as? Is it a representation I am proud of?

You could argue that I'm being incredibly shallow by only caring about what others think of me, and that would be a perfectly valid argument. But what's more important, I feel, is why I care about particular impressions. The string I share with some stranger I talk to for five minutes at a party is but a thread, and I wouldn't give it a second thought if that person loathed me for no particular reason. But the string I share with my parents, my brothers, my closest friends... those are the chains that matter to me. These are the people I care about, I respect, I look up to, and I love. I am very much a product of all the wonderful people that have entered my life, and what makes me who I am are the decisions I made as to which aspect of each person I try to absorb. In that sense, I'm not ashamed to say I wholeheartedly care about what these people think of me.

But there is a confession I have to admit at this point: my thoughts around this topic are very self-involved. I'm trying to do what I can on my end to develop these chains and strengthen them. But I have failed to realise the key emphasis in my own analogy: these chains are two-way. Mutuality and balance is another (hefty) topic I'd like to explore further in another post, but for the sake of this piece, I'll leave it at this: relationships are lines drawn that link two points together - emphasis on the 'two'. As much as I can affect what happens on my end as one point, I must also equally and mutually rely on the other person. And this in turn, made me realise that there is an equal amount of thought that goes on at the opposite side, whether that be concious or subconscious, and that is something I need to take into account.

So what triggered this plot twist? Those exact people. Recently, they've taught me that no matter how closed off I may think I've become (something I'm wilfully trying hard to learn how to appropriately adjust), these people are still tugging on those chains. I was quite literally surprised by how well they seem to know me and understand me. It's an odd reaction, especially after how I've said how much I connect with these people, but it does go to show that's how segregated I view myself as of late. However, ultimately, these people have taught me the chains I have attached to them are just as equally attached to me, and so is each and every other chain in my life, no matter how distant they may be.

I don't want this to be a post where I ramble on pointlessly (again - if you feel that way!), and this time, I'm not going to suggest you to give the same level of thought about your own personal chains as I have. It just might not be the type of thing for all of you. Instead, this is just an insight into the kinds of things I think about, and hopefully offers a little context as to why I write what I write.

As for me, these inner investigations will continue. I'll keep doing what I can on my part to affect my chains through my own actions and thoughts towards these people: supporting them, caring for them, communicating with them, learning about them and bonding with them. In a way, I think that's the only way I know how to relate to them. If I can't do these things, I feel that I'm weakening my own chains into strings - and to me, they are far, far too important for me to ignore. However, I hope to turn a corner and take heed from my own analogy by accepting that I need to learn to receive too, and to depend on the person at the other end to keep the chain strong.

Now, if there's anyone that can tell me where I can fit a Thresh joke into this post, that'd be great, thanks.

Sunk Costs: An Economics Lesson In Moving On

In economics, a sunk cost refers to a retrospective cost that has already been incurred and cannot be recovered. Traditional economics suggests that sunk costs should not influence business decision-making, as it would not be rationally assessing a decision based on its own merits. But, as behavioural economics proves, this is not always the case in real life. Business decision-makers are after all humans, and humans are prone to loss aversion - i.e. they have a tendency to prefer avoiding risks rather than acquiring gains. All in all, this means decision-makers end up taking into account these irretrievable costs, despite the fact that it is irrational to do so.

I didn't do Economics as my undergraduate degree, but a lot of my friends did. A few in particular love this "sunk costs" inside joke, where they'd use its theory in day-to-day decisions. They'd try to describe to me what it meant, but usually to my confusion (thankfully, Wikipedia is a thing). Basically, it just teaches that you should just accept that some things are hopelessly gone - just because you've gone down a certain path does not necessarily mean you should keep going the same way, so stop living in the past.

For example, if I had already spent money in the game League of Legends, that is a sunk cost (true example) - I cannot get that money back. Now, I have another chance to spend even more money, and as a stupid human with stupid feelings, I feel like since I've already invested money in the game, it would almost be a waste of that first amount to not spend more (also a true example). WRONG. The mere fact that I had spent money in the first place should not affect whether I spend more. It would not be rational. Result? I spend more money. Why? Because, as I said, I'm stupid.

So what other sunk costs do we fail to ignore? What about time? Time is definitely something we spend (literally, every second of our lives), and it is definitely irretrievable. No man on this world has the power to take back the time he has lost. So when we invest time into things in our lives, should we be rational and not let it affect our future decision-making?

Something I made in reference to the Cantonese song, 
Tourbillon (陀飛輪) by Edison Chan (陳奕迅).

Instead of Economics, I studied Law at university. About halfway into my second year, I realised I had made a grave mistake. Not only was I not particularly interested in my degree, I was no good at it. At all. Now, I had the option to either a) change subjects, possibly even university, or b) carry on with my chosen degree. Sunk costs dictate that time lost is lost; there's no going back. Given my projected trajectory with the degree, I was predicted to defeat. So what did I do? "I've already come so far. It'd be a waste of the last one-and-a-half years to not do the rest." - I carried on. Economically irrational? Yes. The wrong decision? Retrospectively speaking, I have no regrets whatsoever. I got my degree in Law in the end, but it took my everything to do so. But I would do it all over again given the chance.

This got me thinking about other things we spend time on - like relationships. We invest time into them, to build and foster a bond with that person. But when a decision needs to be made, shouldn't we ignore time as a sunk cost? If we were smart, we would assess the situation on its own merits. Weigh up the pros and the cons, without the sunk cost in the picture, because what's happened won't change.

But in the end, we do take it into account. Because we're irrational and stupid? No - because it matters. Time in a relationship is what makes the connection deeper and more meaningful. I don't really believe in "love at first sight". What I do believe is that relationships of love require time, work and effort. Ask any experienced, married couple. Time does add value, and it does change the decision outcome. What I do agree with however is that it is only a single consideration. Obviously, there is always a lot more to take into account, and you can't be blinded by sunk costs like time. I hate the idea of 'settling' with someone (not to be confused with 'settling down') just because you've been together for a certain period of time. You're not going to get any of that time back by investing even more, so there's no point in 'sticking through with it' if that's you're only argument.

However, I think we should consider time invested, but only as equally important as time to be invested. Jumping back to economic theory, prospective costs are future costs that may be incurred if an action is taken. And these do matter to business decision-makers, because that loss can be avoided if the right decision is made - it's a risk. So when we consider our relationships, it's worth also thinking about the potential time we're committing to. After all, all time in the future eventually becomes irretrievable, too.

In the end, economics and love don't mix very well (no matter what my friends say). Love just isn't an economical decision - it's too hard to be rational with it. Heck, we can't even do it right and avoid loss aversion when we're making business decisions, let alone ones that the heart is involved with. Ultimately, we dwell on the past, whether we mean to or not. But hopefully, we try to think ahead as well. We might not get any of our time back, but in the end, aren't we all really just trying to avoid bankruptcy?

Give Up Already

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again."

We're taught from a young age that we should never give up; that we should fight for the things we want in life. We're taught to be dreamers, and to not let anyone hold us back - especially ourselves. You know: Pursuit of Happyness, "Impossible is nothing", and - dare I say it - Never Say Never. But as we grow up, and inevitably slip up a few times, we realise it's not so simple as just not letting go. We find that uphill climb never plateaus, and we never conquer some aspirations. We mindlessly chase after something that can't be caught, and we're so caught up in the chase to realise we're never getting any closer. And yet, we still regard those that do give up as failures.

"You just need to try harder."

"Why give up now? You will have wasted all that time."

"Quitters never win, and winners never quit."

Truth is, sometimes, we do need to give up. As simple beings, at some point, we discover that we just can't get everything we want, despite our best efforts. Everyone is capable of achieving greatness, but not greatness in all they come across - most of us just aren't born as Renaissance men. And that's okay. But we need to learn the lesson that sometimes, the losing fight is something we should surrender to.

So how do we know when we should let go? Well, that's the problem - we will never know. And herein lies why we convince ourselves to never give up. We push and push, and at some point, we stop to think: Am I really going anywhere with this? Am I getting any closer? But if I stop now, will I have lost all the potential progress I've strived for? Do I just need to try harder? And so we keep on pushing and pushing. But were we to step back, we might just realise that we haven't moved anything at all. Worse yet, sometimes we can't even tell retrospectively. So do we keep going? Or is this a lost cause? Do we carry on fighting? Or do we give up?

This is not me telling you to never try, or to never dream. Quite the contrary, you should always try first. Give it your all, and if that doesn't work, try something else. Exhaust your options, and do everything in your power. However, you must also come into acceptance that in life, you will win some, and you will lose others. And for the most part, that's not something you can control. Whether it's Lady Luck, or circumstances you can't hurdle, or that it just wasn't meant to be, there will be places in this world you'll never reach. However, it is our experiences, our wisdom, and our rationality, that allows us to distinguish these unknown battles. But most importantly, you need to take that first step and try. And if you've given it your all, then the rest is out of your hands. 

So where is this all going? Is this the confession of a defeatist? Not to me, it isn't. But when we were taught that we should try, try, try again, I call bullshit. Maturity is not about being blindly ambitious; maturity is about being clever enough to pick your battles. In that sense, we're all just continuously learning, because none of us know whether we're currently running in circles or not. Just know that you are not a loser for giving up. You will never waste time for trying, because as we all know, the battle that is never fought is already lost. These are the struggles that force us to develop our character; we're made of both our successes and our failures. My argument is that the point of giving up is to avoid wasting your time and efforts if and when you know you're chasing a lost cause - and sadly, sometimes, you just won't know. You will succeed elsewhere, but not if you are stuck in a ditch everyday. So refocus, and one day, you will triumph after tribulation. 

If A Tree Falls In A Forest...

"If a tree falls in a forest and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

This is a classic philosophical riddle that questions perception and the knowledge of reality. I didn't know this at first, but this little thought experiment actually probes into much bigger discussions, like the knowledge of the unobserved world, and the difference between sensation and reality, amongst other considerations in areas of philosophy and religious perspectives (I did a bit of quick research - I guess you can say I've slightly improved). But it is this particular thought that has piqued my interest:

"Can something exist without being perceived?"

I'm not even going to try and skim the philosophical considerations of the subject matter, but I am intrigued in its application to relationships (as you may have predicted from my recent blog topics). So, if I possess a certain feeling towards another, does it really exist without that person ever experiencing it with me?

I want to narrow it down to a very personal emotion, such as love - for ease of discussion, if anything. If I love someone, but never express it to that person, does it even affect our relationship? Even if it's stated as an absolute fact ("hey, by the way, he really loves you"), but neither my actions nor my words exhibit this emotion, do I actually love that person? Or does that emotion never exist to begin with if it's not something received, and instead, all that is happening is that I want to love that person?

The titular riddle can be solved pretty straightforwardly: obviously, if a tree falls, it still makes a sound, regardless of anyone's presence (or lack of). Science dictates that the soundwaves are created. But it is the separation of the actual sound occurring and the perception of that sound that brings up the question: what is to say it exists if the existence itself is unknown?

I'll admit I've rather forcefully applied this to a relationship context, and quite honestly, I don't know the answer. To me, relationships are not outward projectiles like sound; you can't have a relationship on your own (I've tried - it doesn't work). Relationships are bonds that connect people. So if you state that you have a feeling that alters or defines that interpersonal link, it cannot exist without being perceived by the other.

So what about hidden feelings that you don't express, like a secret crush? In my opinion, you aren't truly fond of someone without any expression of it. But even those little unappreciated words of kindness and subtle acts of generosity count towards that expression. She might not be fully aware of your crush, but she will receive those words and actions - and the subsequent feeling.

Does this also apply to presumed feelings? I am my parents' child, so does that mean I need not do anything to express that inherent love? What if I am already someone's spouse? Does that automatically mean that I no longer need to prove or display my affection? Not in my mind.

As for inconsistent expressions: say, you love someone, but you do something that hurts that person - like betrayal, an undeniably contrary expression to love - do you really still love that person? Because I would argue that in that context, saying "I love you" is just a farce - unless, of course, your following expressions go on to signal a change.

I suppose I'm not the only one that is torn. In metaphysics, opinion is split as to what the true answer to the riddle is: substance theory dictates that a substance is distinct from its properties, which means whatever the perceptions of the object may be, it will not affect the actual existence of said object; bundle theory on the other hand, dictates that an object is merely its sense data, therefore an object's existence is based solely on it being sensed by others. So when it comes to relationships, I guess some will think that love can exist without the object of adoration knowing, and others will argue that you don't love someone unless you can show it.

I'm way over my head now. But even if you don't agree with me, or just think I'm talking jibberish, think about when the last time was you expressed your feelings to those you love. You can tell me all day about how you love your parents and how they mean the world to you, but what does it really mean if you don't show it to them? You can pine over that girl or guy every waking moment, but that person is clueless and will never feel that love if you don't find a way to express it. So go out there, and let them hear you fall.

Perhaps I've forced the comparison a bit too much. After all, we're not trees. I'll just leave you with this interpretation instead:

"If a man speaks in a forest and no woman is around to hear it, is he still wrong?"

Jekyll me, and I'll Hyde away

As I have mentioned before, I'm a bit of a Lego geek. Among my collection are the Minifigures series, and my favourite is this little guy (whom I've lovingly made into a necklace), originally titled in a non-copyright-infringement kind of way, "Mr Good and Evil":

Now, if you've ever seen me in person, 90% of the time, I'm wearing my favourite brand: Johnny Cupcakes. My favourite t-shirt among my (admittedly excessive) collection is a Halloween limited edition, London release of their mascot (the hipster in me is beaming - in a flannel scarf and retro square frames, of course):

So, quite obviously, these are both interpretations of the protagonist/antagonist of the 1886 classic Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson - the man who is both the good Henry Jekyll and the evil Edward Hyde.

Jekyll and Hyde (I'm not sure what his celebrity couple name would be: Jyde, or Hekyll?) is an interesting character to me. For those that don't know the tale, the story is about the investigation into a man who has the rare mental condition of dissociative identity disorder (commonly known as 'split personality') - within his body lies both the good Jekyll personality and the evil Hyde personality; this one man encompasses both polar opposites of moral standard. I probably should've announced a spoiler alert beforehand, but this novel was written more than a hundred years ago - I think I'm exempt.

You'll notice many re-imaginings of this character: Harvey Dent/Two-Face, a physical embodiment of duality and one of many Batman super villains (and Bruce Wayne/Batman himself, in a way); Sméagol/Gollum as the self-conflicting, "My Precious" creature from The Lord of the Rings; the insomniac and anarchist The Narrator/Tyler Durden combo from the novel Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (thank you, A-Level English Literature) and the subsequent movie; and, to a certain extent, the descent of Walter White/Heisenberg from the widely popular TV series Breaking Bad. 

In fact, this fictional character has become so synonymous with the language of good and evil, the phrase 'Jekyll and Hyde' is often used to describe a person who varies greatly in moral character in different situations. And it is this concept that has me intrigued.

Often we think of people (in stories and in our lives) as either 'the good guy' or 'the bad guy' (regardless of gender). Some always try, with their very best efforts, to be the former. Others come to accept their questionable intentions and just realise their innate wickedness as the latter. And I'll admit, for the most part of my life, I've always thought I tried to be the good guy, because wasn't that how we were all raised? We're always taught to be good, and to avoid doing bad - simple as that. But it never really is that simple, is it?

Truth is, I'm neither - we're all Jekyll and Hyde. It's what makes us human. We all embody both good intentions and evil intentions, and the ability to execute both. We can be caring, loving and considerate in one moment, and just as easily be hurtful, disrespectful and selfish in the other. In actuality, in the original story of Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, there really is just Dr Henry Jekyll - Hyde is merely a mask which Jekyll hides beneath whilst committing all his repressed sins. Jekyll wants to be Hyde but can't be under his regular guise, so it's not so much 'Jekyll vs. Hyde' as it is 'Jekyll is Hyde'.

So are we doomed? We all carry both the good and the evil, and if it's our inescapable nature, can we ever really become the good guy when we'll always have half a heart of darkness? No, but we can certainly try, and that's what really matters. We may all have the capacity to carry out either ends of the spectrum, and yes, sometimes we will make the wrong decisions. But it's our ability to make choices that sets our characters apart. We will all do some good and some evil in the long journey that is our lives. We're no saints (unless you too play Saints Row, in which case, 3rd Street Saints for life). But if we just try to do good, and apologise and try to change when we misstep, then we are already more Jekyll than we are Hyde.

And so I'll be the first to say, I'm not the hero. But neither am I the villain. I am Jekyll, and I am Hyde. I am not perfect and I will make mistakes. But it will be my life ambition to always try to do the right thing: to treat everyone with equal kindness, to put others before myself, and to be mindful of my actions and my words. Only then can I say I am trying to win the fight and defeat the monstrous Hyde within me. No potion can do that for me.

I wear this necklace to remind myself to not be afraid of this fact, but instead be consciously aware of it. Will you in turn learn to accept your Hyde, and try to be more Jekyll?

Turning Twenty-Two

Before the well wishes come flying in (my imaginary readers are very vocal), it's not my birthday just yet. In fact, I'm already twenty-two (no lie - just ask Taylor). This is really just a re-telling of something that happened to me last year. That might sound terribly uncreative, but I'm hoping there's value for my readers in what I'm about to write. But what would you know? You're imaginary.

What I'm referring to when I say I "turned twenty-two" is when I made my resolutions just under a year ago. But not on my own birthday, nor on New Year's Day. I just woke up one random day in October... and decided to live life differently. I've never thought chapter-ending moments in life would occur so snappily, but for me, this one time, it did. But to be honest, looking back, this was probably the culmination of almost three years' worth of thought and consideration.

A lot of my current personal philosophies are based around those resolutions, which have led me (physically, mentally and emotionally) to where I am now - even to the extent of me writing this blog post right this moment. I'm sure many of them will become the topics of currently-imaginary-but-soon-to-be blog posts (I guess in that sense, you will be able to relate to them) - whether you like it or not! I'm kidding, of course. Please like me and please don't stop reading.

If I dare say so myself, I'm rather proud of how far I've gotten in these eleven months - just from that one morning of deciding to get behind the steering wheel in my head. And for me, that was very much the crux of everything that was to follow: taking back control. I won't bore you with the details (I'm sure you have imaginary parties to get to), but it was basically akin to being in the driver seat finally after sitting aside for so long. Instead of just riding along as the car goes on its way, now I can (or rather, allow myself to) make the turns I want to, knowing that it was my own foot on the pedal, propelling me forward. And it felt good.

And so it was that day in October that I decided to turn twenty-two, even though my actual twenty-second birthday was the following March. And now, just about a month away from the anniversary, I've begun to think that this should be more of a thing.

Birthdays happen to you whether you do something about it or not. New Year's the same. Effectively, you earn your birthday by surviving 365 days, and, thankfully, that's a relatively achievable objective for most of us at this age. But whether you do something awesome for a year, or get absolutely nowhere in that same time, you still get your birthday - and you still turn a year older, along with the gravity that is associated with that moment. Don't get me wrong, though; I love birthdays. I love the idea of celebrating a person and their growth over the course of one year, and I think we could all take a little time and effort out of our day to appreciate and be grateful for someone on their one dedicated special day. And definitely don't think for even a second that I'm not celebrating my actual twenty-third birthday in March (bring presents, everybody). But by having your birthday set on a specific date, by saying you automatically become a year older (and everything that comes with it) because you simply surpassed that day, just doesn't quite feel like you've consciously made the decision to grow up. It just sort of happened to you.

When I made my resolutions, I felt a change within me. In fact, I knew things were about to change because I was about to make them happen (or at the very least, try). And it was then that I decided, at that moment, I was going to turn twenty-two. I was going to mature to my next age, and all that that should entail. Goodbye, twenty-one-year-old me.

So what's this to you? Probably nothing. But perhaps a thought to consider: when was the last time you turned a year older? Was it on your birthday? I hope this story of mine might help you realise that it doesn't necessarily have to be your birthday to choose to be more mature, to choose to make resolutions, or to choose to turn a year older. Today could be your next birthday.

As it nears the anniversary of my coming of age last October, ironically, I'm actually not going to celebrate it. That would effectively defeat the purpose of this entire post. Instead, I will be celebrating when I have achieved those goals I have set for myself, and become the version of me that I want to be. But since I've set both tangible and more continuous ones, I think for now, I'm just going to have a little birthday party for myself in my head - for reaching some of my goals, for being on track for others, for being ready to start the rest, and for finishing this blog post.

There's cake for everyone.