Friday 23 November 2012

Exposing Oneself to Vulnerability

Less than two weeks ago I was in English class, when my teacher brought up the topic of vulnerability. Vulnerability is defined by the dictionary as "being susceptible to physical or emotional or harm". Frankly, I think that this definition is quite harsh. I would define 'Vulnerability' as the feeling of being exposed. Yes, people may feel physically or emotionally harmed as a result of their actions and exposing themselves, but that isn't always the case. Sometimes, there are good results that come out of being exposed, for example, if you are a student who loves physics and have just created a bio-fuel cell (scientific stuff), showing your creation at a science fair is exposing yourself to vulnerability. Your are exposing yourself to the world just to stand up for what you believe in. And to top it off, say you win the competition. That would be a positive outcome of being vulnerable.

There are different ways people can approach the "challenge" of vulnerability. The first way, and in my opinion the most common in our society today, is to avoid it. Many people are afraid of being exposed, probably because they only think about the negative consequences of their actions. I still do not understand why they do not take into account the positive consequences. Even if they do, they still remain afraid of what others will say to them. Everyone knows that the human society is not perfect, and that there will always be people who will try to put others down so that they feel a sense of superiority. Now, people should not shy away from exposing themselves because they are afraid of these people. I believe that they should do quite the opposite - they should stand up for themselves (or they could ignore the bad consequences of being vulnerable and carry on with their lives).


Now that brings me to my next point- the second way someone can approach vulnerability. I was watching another TED Talk during this English class about vulnerability (video above). The speaker was Brene Brown, a research professor (PhD) at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She described vulnerability as "A sense of worthiness and belonging. People who have a strong sense of belonging feel more worthy of connection and will thus expose themselves more to vulnerability". People are afraid of vulnerability because they feel that they will lose their connection with society as a result, because people will believe that they don't belong. I believe that people who let go of who they think they should be and fully embrace vulnerability will be more successful and happier as human beings. They will feel happy with who they are, they will feel "I am enough". These people will not numb vulnerability and will feel eager to share their thoughts with the rest of the world and expose themselves. No matter what people say negatively about these people, they will stand by their thoughts. I feel that this is the way that people should embrace vulnerability.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

Agatha Christie's "Mystery of the Blue Train"

Today I began a new novel that was of a much higher level compared to a novel I would normally read.  Most bookworms and eager readers would recognise Agatha Christie as one of the greatest authors of murder mysteries of all-time. My parents and their siblings had read her novels during their childhood and now it is my turn. Today it still seems to be a favourite among teenage-adult readers, as I only found one out of the six copies on the shelf in the secondary library. I started to read "The Mystery of the Blue Train". Now, so far I have only read 5 chapters of the story and the plot is just being revealed, but already I am hooked in by the book and can't put it down. It does not have a slow start and the characters are introduced into the story from the first sentence. The author also uses many writing techniques which further enhance the content of the story, such as metaphors, similes and a lot of detail, which helps the reader to get a much clearer picture of what is going on in each scene. The main elements of each scene (characters, setting, sense of time) are also well-balanced.



The first chapter describes a scene in which a man is being followed by two hired killers for the possession of a huge ruby. One can tell just from reading the first chapter that the book will be a good read. My favourite character up to this point would be an American millionaire named Rufus Van Aldin because of his contrasting personalities in the story. Christie introduces him in the first 2 chapters as a brash, bulky and ruthless man who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. I originally thought he was a criminal. However, in the 3rd and 4th chapters, he turns into a loving father who has a soft spot for his only daughter. Anything that makes her unhappy will be taken care of by him. The daughter, named Ruth, aged 28, is married unhappily to a man named Derek Kettering who married her for her money and is planning to divorce with him. I have not read further, but I predict that the divorce will not turn out as planned. I think that Derek Kettering may react violently to Ruth's decision and may possibly kill her as a result. I believe that this may be the murder around which the story is based.

Tuesday 6 November 2012

English Point of View Assignment: Bicycle Accident

Not four weeks ago, we were working on our points of view assignment in English class. Our topic of study in English at the time was Points of View and for our summative assessment, that is, the project given to us at the end of our unit where the teachers assessed our attainment, we had to describe an incident which happened to us from two different, contrasting points of view. We had to recreate a part of the incident, that is, one or more scenes, that occurred within a 12-hour time span or less. The incident I described in my scene was a bike accident that occurred roughly two years ago. Read it and enjoy!

The afternoon sun shone brightly with a pink tone over the tops of the trees covering the cycling pathway. East Coast Park was lively and bustling, as was typical of a Sunday afternoon. I was anxious to reach Changi Airport by cycle for the 10th time. My hands shook and my stomach lurched as I rode on with Dhruv just behind me. My eyes were focused on the road ahead and my feet were tingling.  Sunday seemed the perfect day to make this special ride, with the happy vibe in the air. People were flocking to the nearby hawker centre to grab some delicious laksa. As the smell of the delicious food wafted towards us and my mouth began to drool and my stomach grumbled loudly.

There was no better person to ride to the airport with other than Dhruv. He was one of those friends who never thought too much before doing anything; he was always relaxed, but ready to give you some encouragement when you needed it. East Coast Park was our first pick when deciding where to cycle. The early afternoon weather was what I considered to be the nicest throughout the day, with a light breeze and the sun’s light reflecting off the sea water only metres away. Just 30 minutes into our cycle, however, things suddenly took a turn for the worse.

Dhruv and I were riding along at a comfortable, leisurely place, when our childishness took the better of us and we began to race against one another as we entered the next long straight. This particular section of the ECP seemed less crowded and we pushed ourselves to the limit. His bike, although 2 years older than mine, pushed on at maximum speed, and we were neck and neck. The steady breeze that was blowing had quickly turned into a gale which thrusted itself at me. My loosely-fitted helmet began to shake, as though it were to fly off any second. The rush of wind on my face worsened my sight, but even if it hadn’t I could have never predicted the events that would follow.

A middle-aged couple appeared out of nowhere and were walking straight in front of me about 10 metres away. They hadn’t seen Dhruv or I headed straight for them. I jammed the brakes, but they had chosen the wrong time to fail. The track began to get rougher and rutted and time to slow down. I broke into a sideways drift and my foot was thrusted to the tarmac. My panic was so great that I couldn’t feel the pain from my foot as the friction was tearing my tendons and ripping the soles of my shoes. Time slowed down for a few moments as I was screaming in fear. My face froze as my bike raced closer towards the couple and my mind suddenly went blank.



My efforts were in vain. Although I hadn’t crashed into them straight on, my handlebars had hit the lady and knocked her over. Soon after, my bike skidded and crashed sideways. I hadn’t fallen unconscious, but after I got up I realized the extent to which I had been injured. Both my legs were scraped badly and were bleeding heavily, my arms were covered with cuts and bruises and back was also bleeding from scrapes. The wind at this time had died down completely, and the crowds had disappeared for lunch. Since we were over 2 kilometres from the hawker centre, it wasn’t easy to get help. But the couple showed no sympathy, even though they had not been walking on the proper pathway and were in the cycling lane. The husband of the wife immediately rushed to her side. During this time I took a closer look at them. They were both in their early 40s and like most others were probably going for lunch.

There was an eerie silence, except for the soothing sound of the waves hitting the beach. Dhruv had suffered no injuries, as his bike slowed steadily and quickly. I was sweating and exhausted, and the pain from the wounds was made worse when the sweat came in contact with them. My breathing got heavier and I lost some of the feeling from my hands as I leaned on my bike (which was stood upright by Dhruv). I had close to no strength left in my body- my legs couldn’t take my weight for much longer and were already wobbling.

The silence was broken when the husband began to shower insults and shout at us for injuring his wife. He explained to us that she had 3 cuts on her arms, a cut on her back and two bruises on her legs. She ‘required hospitalization immediately’, and we were supposed to pay for it. I couldn’t make out why, because she looked completely fine, apart from a lightly bleeding cut. Dhruv and I were consumed by anger and the husband’s comment just added fuel to the fire. I may have kept a rigid face but I was fuming inside. My hands closed into a fist and my muscles tightened. How dare he accuse us though they were walking on the wrong pathway? Did he look at the wounds that I had obtained from the crash? He even threatened to phone the police.

Some joggers arrived at the scene, but to my surprise began to take the side of the husband. In the searing heat, sweaty and wounded badly, I could stand no more. I gave the husband my father’s and my phone number and shot each of them an angry glare before I left with Dhruv. I could hear him swearing under his breath.




Same Story from the Middle-Aged Lady’s Point of View

The sun shone particularly brightly on this Sunday afternoon over East Coast Park. The fact that it was overcrowded was no surprise to me- at least 300 other Singaporeans had planned a similar lunch outing to ours. The hawker centre at Mana Mana served the most succulent and flavourful dishes; they were so hard to resist. Choosing something to eat from the menu was close to impossible; every item was worth tasting. The only deciding factor for us was the availability of the dishes. My husband never usually bothered about the price. It was just the two of us eating anyway and the question on the value for money never arose.

Unfortunately, prior to leaving for lunch, in my hurry I had lost a brand-new, gold-plated watch I received as a gift not a week earlier and finding it took close to half an hour. Nonetheless, leaving late had cost us dearly- we couldn’t find a parking space near the hawker centre and had to park over a kilometre away from it. I doubted there would be much food left for us to eat by the time we walked there. My sole consolation was that my husband and I could enjoy a little romance on the walk to Mana Mana.

We were relishing the finest walk we had since we were married. I was laughing at the funniest jokes and stories my husband had told all week about his job. The temperature was cooler and there was a steady, weak rush of air on our faces. Sparrows were holding a world-class opera above us. Apart from an occasional jogger or cyclist, the pathway was empty. The leaves on the trees on either side of us were swaying gently. The sound of the waves hitting the coast only metres away was so tranquil. I couldn’t have felt better. Mother nature seemed in a generous mood today.

Suddenly, two Indian teenagers came around the bend in front of us at top speed. It appeared that they were having a race, but one of the cyclists, the taller of the two, was riding into the walking pathway and was headed straight for me. He seemed lost in a sea of adrenaline and was oblivious to a couple walking just in front of him. In panic and sheer fright, I screamed at him to stop, as did my husband. He paid no heed to our yelling and began brake not ten metres away from us, as though he had only just noticed our presence. His friend, a shorter Indian boy, had stopped by this time. The taller Indian boy, whose bike was still moving towards us at full speed, broke into a drift. I could do nothing but brace. My heart pounded at my chest and my face froze. As my breathing got sharper and quicker, my knees, arms and head were shaking.

The impact was hard and abrupt. I was lifted clean off my feet and landed on my back with a painful ‘thud’. I passed out immediately afterwards. As soon as I regained consciousness, I examined my body, while my husband was at my side, calling for an ambulance. I had badly bruised knees and a twisted ankle, which were both throbbing with pain. My arms and back had several deep cuts and were bleeding heavily. In order to prevent a nasty infection from spreading through body and causing more severe problems, I needed hospitalization immediately.

The teen, however, was not hurt badly. Apart from a few minor scrapes on his arms and knees that were bleeding a little, he seemed all right. I would make sure his ignorance would be his trapdoor into hell. He was riding on the wrong pathway, at a speed that can only be described as insane and had hit me when he could have easily avoided it. By this time the mid-afternoon heat was bearing down on us and my sweat began to seep into my wounds and cause a stinging pain. I was inclined to call the police- boys this age should have had the maturity to ride safely and slowly near a public eating area. My husband assumed the role of a lawyer and began to lecture the boys on why Indian immigrants were respected in Singapore. Both boys shot him angry looks with eyes of steel. After the three kettles had stopped boiling, they had settled on an agreement. The boy who had crashed into me had given my husband his father’s cellphone number and left without apologizing for the trouble. I was in too much agony to scold him for all the trouble he had caused.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the final, edited and marked copy of my POV (Points of View) writing piece. Although Mr.Raisdana had not made too many major corrections, he mentioned to me that my used some vague language in my piece such as "seemed to" and "appeared to".  I agree with this, and his reasoning that since it is my writing piece, I am free to make open statements and should. I was unsure of this originally and wrote from what I perceived to be the characters in the story. It is a good tip for when I write more in the future. Also, in my first POV piece, the one written from my point of view,  I added some extra thoughts from the character's perspective, which Mr.Raisdana suggested I remove. I think this was because I was dragging on my piece and that if I cut the extra thoughts out my ending would be better. I definitely agree with him.