Yoggi complained that I wasn’t blogging enough. “It’s not my fault,” I defended myself. “I need inspiration! Time! Things to write about!” But actually all I needed was work due in approximately 4h, because what is greater motivation to procrastinate than impending deadlines?
Besides, blogging is tough. It requires quite a number of ingredients, which can’t just be picked up at your nearest supermarket:
1. A sustained train of thought
Your mind is the free-est part of you. Unlike a real physical train, where once you sit down in that box of a carriage you can’t actually get off unless you intend to send all your closest friends and relatives into grieving and about six thousand other passengers into rage at your splash of a death, your mind tells the train, “Fuck you, I can go wherever I please with no consequences whatsoever. Except for the one where you get sent to the streets begging for alms and money because you can’t cope with society’s demands of some productive work. But that’s your problem, not mine.” “I thought we were in this together!” you wring your hands. “I thought we were one forever!” Your mind gives you a disdainful sneer, you change your relationship status to single on Facebook, and spend the rest of your nights in a different bed. Or the same bed, if the bed belongs to your professor.
2. Some amounts of courage to bare your shivering emotional core
We would love to pretend that blogging is just an electronic version of that diary you cry into, but we all know that it’s actually more like a passive-aggressive exchange of post-its pasted on your shared bathroom mirror or fridge: “Would whoever is peeing in the shower please kindly stop? I don’t know about you, but I find the toilets next to the shower extremely convenient.”
I mean, what if you blog about that hot guy you met during your Philosophy class, and that hot guy reads it? What would he think? It doesn’t do well to give so much information to other people; it’s not like a conversation where you can demand a trade. To that extent Sumiko Tan is pretty brave to bare her hopeful heart to the national public while in that oh-so-tentative stage where she was falling for H and all the rest of us were just like “lol we all know what’s gonna happen” and hey presto, the next thing you knew Sunday Times splashed their wedding over two full pages.
3. Titanic amounts of motivation at shoveling away this emotionless-ness
I didn’t say it, some survey did: it’s a national phenomenon that we Singaporeans are emotionless. I’d say it’s a survival technique especially when you live in a city with one of the highest population densities in the world. “What’s the link, you stupid blogger?” I’m still coming out with it. My thought process goes like this:
a) I am walking through Orchard Road on a weekend, or maybe just trying to get in a bus at the bus stop at Science Faculty
b) omg I am getting attacked!! at all sides! defend! defend!
c) Zone-out mode activated. Armour ready. What people around me? This is merely an obstacle course where I compute the next opening and put myself in it. Objective: to reach point B.
It’s all very well to go “How are you? Good day!” when you meet a total of 10 people in a day, but multiply that by 60 and servers suffer a denial-of-service attack and go down. On an unrelated but perhaps somewhat related note, I figure the best way to be the last person on the window seat to get a stranger sitting beside you is to stare at people as they get in the bus from the door. Because that means you acknowledge said strangers as humans and that brings up their alert sensors. People in Singapore, please try it and tell me your results.