Sponsors

The Blogger

Vanessa Ng * 20 * 28th February * RVHS * NBS
Twitter Mail Facebook


I dream of becoming a magician, a chef, a chocolatier, a fashion designer, a movie director, a DJ, a professional photographer and a stock market guru. I also want my very own candy outlet. (: My blog comprises photographs and random thoughts. I like to keep my blog happy and I'm easily inspired. It's nice knowing that people are reading, so thank you. :D

Tweet Tweet

    Follow me on Twitter (:

    10 October 2012

    Some thoughts on separation and graduation








    Last 2 photos taken by our form teacher, Mr.Ho (:

    NOTE: Read the whole thing if you're ever going to comment, in real life or otherwise. (:

    So we had our last official class breakfast.

    Graduation is approaching in two days time. So I guess I've been thinking more than usual lately, about how separation is intrinsically linked to sadness and yet it is a fundamental cycle that we all go through to learn, at least briefly, on what appreciation is.

    It's actually a pretty noble process.

    To be honest, my level of sadness wouldn't be of a great extent, not because I don't like my class or anything close to that, but because I do treasure little bits of everything everyday. Even if I forget to, I'll still reflect a little before I sleep every night. It's not the kind of like 'I am so fortunate to be alive' chant, but it's about bits and pieces that happened that day. I tend to scrap all the unhappy stuff because I believe that forgetting is possible, and I guess it is.

    I learn in literature from Mr.P that memory is inaccurate, and more importantly, that it is a reconstruction of perceived experiences. So I believe that if you think of happy things, you'll remember happy things. You obivously learn from sad things before putting them aside though. There are obviously some regrets here and there which you can never reconstruct to be positive, but still.

    So anyway, as I was saying, my level of sadness wouldn't be of a great extent. And I thought long and hard about this notion of separation being a terribly sad event where people cry and hug (if people start crying and hugging I probably will, cause I'm easily influenced by other people's emotions. Tadah, I've admitted that.) And I've arrived at a conclusion. In fact, it's pretty spectacularly simple that I'm surprised I even thought about it:

    1. We're sad because we can't be bothered to keep things the way it was.

    2. We're sad because we know it'll never be the same (and we cannot be bothered to keep things the way it was)

    Okay wait, that's ONE POINT. It's just too tedious, even redundant. Heck, it's even tough to keep a small group of friends a close-knitted one, what makes you think an entire class of different individuals can all love each other.

    If you think along this train of thought, being sad about separation is actually superficial in a sense. Because you're technically feeling sad over losing people whom you don't treasure that much in the first place. If more negativity is injected, we're simply grouped together as a class to study. We made lessons bearable by forging solidarity along the way because we all share the same classroom. That is a commonality that can foster all sorts of ties, good or bad.

    So the thing is, we only care about that few people in class. Some don't even have that one single person to care about. Think about it. It's why classes have cliques, why platoons have little groups, why people break away after some time. Any relationship in this world is about maintenance, be it marriage, or the bond shared by siblings or couples. If you don't maintain, then it's gone.

    So we're sad not because we know we'll see each other in prom, or in a chalet, or a class outing, or somewhere along the street or in town, we're sad because we know that we cannot be bothered to bond such a large group of people. We're sad because we know that never again will such a big group of people meet willingly, and never again will the bond be as strong. We'll all move on with our lives, which really isn't a tragically bad thing.

    And the truth is, we just don't care that much to go through the trouble of organising an outing to see every single member of the class. Wait, when has there been full attendance for a class outing anyway?

    Let me just clarify myself: This isn't a bad thing. I've been using the word 'bad' way too loosely. It's more of undesirable or frowned upon, or socially unacceptable or shunned. To admit upon recognition isn't a bad thing at all. I guess we all have to admit to everybody else, at some point in life or another, that:

    Hey, I don't care that much.

    That established, I guess I'm still irrational enough to feel a tinge of unwillingness in letting go. For afterall, the shared experience built up as time progresses does create sentiments. And sentiments are sometimes illogical and unexplicable. But yes, I admit that I don't care enough to go through the hassle of organising class outings. I will attend, as always, when there is one. But yes, I don't care enough to go through the trouble. I appreciate little gestures of kindness and little internal jokes and hilarious stuff that happened in class, and I do adore the exclusitivity of that element of fun. But yes, I don't care enough to go through the trouble of organising a class outing.

    And I think people need to just admit that simple fact. I think it can be annoying if a person chants the love and adoration of a class and how life will never be the same (inserts all sorts of hyperbolic expressions) but don't do anything about it. Don't plan any outings, don't be active, don't be anything. Because the truth seems to suggest that you just don't care enough to be bothered. And yes, we will all move on with our lives. BAM!

    P.S: I realise that the last paragraph made the entire post seemingly triggered by some anonymous person. So nope, it wasn't.
    P.P.S: I think it's okay to drift apart if you bother pulling each other back again. (:

    No comments:

    Post a Comment