Civility.

Sitting on the bus on the way home, I murmured an 'excuse me' to a woman who sat on the outer seat. She shifted so that I could move in and take up my favourite spot next to the window, on the elevated footrest. Well, yes, I'm short and don't like my legs to dangle.

It wasn't till a few stops later that I noticed a woman sitting on the outer seat in front of me shifting to allow for another girl to move in. The conspiracy theorist in me then wondered, 'is there something wrong with the inner seats on this bus that they're not telling us?'

Then I remembered; even if there were something wrong, it wasn't likely for anyone to tell us about it anyway. Of course, I'm assuming it's something minor. Like a bad smell, a patch of dirt, or something. No one really bothers to tell you about it, and it's not malice or apathy so much as the tacit understanding that you shouldn't talk to strangers on a bus.

Yep, we prevent ourselves from spreading goodwill through a mother's caution and bashfulness.

My realisation of how our conversation with strangers never seem to move beyond niceties of P's and Q's activated the irony seeker in me.

What if, long long ago, in medieval (possibly fictional) times when people were hale and hearty and merry and chatted people up as easy as pie, some disgruntled Scrooge wondered why people weren't more polite?

Random funniness.

Gangsta Hipsta Rocksta Baldsta.

Yesterday was quite an interesting day at VJ - it was the day when approximately a hundred Victorians shaved their heads bald.

There were 3 girls among that number, so I heard.

It's not entirely surprising. After all, it's very true that girls value their hair a lot more, and have more reason to. Guys often cited 'preparation for the army and a reason to shave, in jest, yet it's true that the inevitability factored in the decision.

In fact, I was a tad surprised to know that any girl had even signed up in the first place, though the number ease it by a wide margin.

I guess that's what I have to understand about VJ - people genuinely care. My friend from KI, Wan Ting, told me forlornly that she'd wanted to shave, but her mother had threatened to disown her if she chopped her hair off.

That, was surprising. Wan Ting's a pretty girl who had nice hair, and though I never thought her vain or selfish in any way, I didn't think she would feel so strongly about the cause/feel so little for her hair that she would be so enthused about shaving it off.

Not that I don't think it's bad to not shave. I freely confess to being very unwilling to shave my head for a cause (though thinking back I remember telling Jack Neo I wouldn't mind doing it as an actress).

I didn't see the point. Sure, it was a pretty meaningful gesture, but I didn't think it would make any difference. There were no cancer patients in VJ, and I wondered how it would be truly effective.

I was so stupid.

It took two realisations for me to see it. One: My friend and classmate, Sean, was the only one from my class who dared shave his head. Before he did though, second thoughts were running wild in his brain. He voiced his regret and worry several times, yet he knew (and I, somewhat) that he wouldn't back out. I attempted to assure him by saying that he wouldn't look weird since there were so many people doing it, but he questioned 'what about when I go out in public?'

Two: It wasn't an event (unless you count an epiphany an event). It was merely a dawning of the fact that surrounded by the shavees in VJ, there was a tangible pressure for those who did not to shave. I began to feel ashamed of my hair and saw others the same way too. This environment was also created by the dozens of comments surrounding the shavees:

At the opening ceremony (of sorts)
'omg they're so brave(italicised)!'
In the hallways
'WHY YOU NOT SHAVE.'
*seeing fascinated girls touch the fuzzy heads of the shavees*

At this point in my post I shall insert a more negative realisation of sorts; of hypocrisy. I couldn't help but feel a flat of annoyance, increasing bit by little bit each time, whenever I witnessed some hairful girls adamantly demanding that some of the boys shave.

Of course, in retrospect, some of those girls could've wanted but couldn't shave. Like Wan Ting. Yet it can't be that all the girls were like Wan Ting. (obviously I am mathematically wrong, but hey, look at the probability).

My message to those girls: look at yourself before you look at others!

Although advising them to spend even more time in the looking-glass is probably not a good idea.

Update: Apparently there were 11 girls an a total of 164 shavees. With quite a number being walk-in, un-pre-registered.

Reflections.

It's been forever since I last posted...

Oh wait, I'd posted my essay for Anu's contemplation. (@.@)

Decided to start blogging again to throw a few thoughts out after trawling through Tracy's blog. Am still doing it, lol.

Think I'm gonna stop using so many emoticons. I never really liked them much in the first place, but I gradually, and semi-consciously grew to use them more and more. Best bet: I was trying to make myself more friendly and likeable. The lack of emoticons always makes me appear more cynical than I actually am, and too many people were coming up with comments about me being a 'scary debater' after a cursory glance (I'm assuming) at my Facebook wall. (Stacy in particular.) It's gonna inolve a conscious and long-term effort to stop using emoticons, but I'm gonna start doing it. For sure, definitely, chop chop.

Because I want to preserve what's left of my identity.

It's a curious thing, identity. It's something that we are rarely aware of, but something to vital to ourselves. It's neither this nor that, and it's not something we can fully understand. But people have been able to live their lives (technically) without an identity, and without the knowledge of their lack of an identity.

But who am I to judge what constitutes an identity? After all, a common identity is still an identity. But then again, isn't an identity supposed to be unique, to differentiate one from another?

Oh dear, caught in another conundrum. OK, not really, but I'm blathering a lot now, arguing with myself, and I want to carry on; I have a lot to write out today. (type. TYPE.)

(It's 4.08am, and I am probably not going to sleep. On the train later, yes, but not to bed. Sigh. My bed...)

Oh, yes. Identity. After reading a lot of Tracy's blog posts, the thing that really struck me was about her identity. Of course, identity is never fixed. It's open to change. But that doesn't prevent it from emitting an aura of fixedity/fixedness, of certainty and resolve. It's like someone being very sure about a decision at any point in time, only the decision was liable to change. The key to success (Tracy's success) is to learn to stick to one decision, and have a more or less constant identity. To grab hold of parts of yourself by knowing them, and tethering them to yourself so that they don't go away.

But there were parts of her that were always with her, and though her ropes loosened after a while, they held fast while they were still tight. And that's something I find very admirable. Because I don't know myself. The bits I know a) are not enough to contruct the mainframe of an identity b) are not tethered simply because of knowledge, and c) I do not know are fixed bits.

Don't worry if you don't get this. Don't think I would either.

I've been mulling over a phrase in the notebook:
"We can rediscover ourselves together."
I picture it mentally, since I don't have the book in my possession. (though I can't even remember the colour of the pen ink it was written in.)

And a comment made by a Friend:
"I don't actually know you that well. You're a much more reserved person than Tracy is. (My shocked response: how is that possible?) I know what you will do, but I don't know why you do it. I think it's also because you yourself don't know why you do it. You're a much deeper person than you realise."

And a conversation with Tracy:
T: "How is it that I do not get that 'fresh perspective' from you in return?"
D: "I'm not a particularly unique person. (And you're hard to please.) Besides, I'm not someone who has a strong perspective on things."
T: "I like how you have an open attitude. I was the opposite when I was your age."

But I don't like not knowing myself. I want to know who Denise is, what she's like, what she does, why she does...

But I'm so open I don't even have a favourite colour. I seriously don't know what my favourite colour is. It changes a lot. Right now, it's light blue, but before that it was hot pink.

Okay well maybe I'm thinking too much. It's not abnormal for someone to have a variable favourite colour...But that was a bad analogy. I'm not gonna find another one though.

It's been a while since I've thought so deeply. I've been living simply and happily for quite a long time, and this is slightly new to me, yet not unfamiliar. In fact, after my hiatus from deep-thinking I find that I can sort my thoughts out slightly better. I used to go crazy. Like that time when I lost it and screamed into the phone at my Friend. LOL. It was the catalyst for such great change...

But I like this. I like thinking. It makes me feel alive again. I'm no longer worrying about superficial things. But this also means I'll have to learn to cope with so many thoughts.

Okay, strayed from topic again.

The answer I can accept for now is my age. (Okay, it's more of an excuse.) I have to keep telling myself that I'm only sixteen and still impressionable, still susceptible to external influences, and that I'm still shaping my character.

I know I'm supposed to cherish every day of my life, especially since I've made a resolution to, but sometimes it's not that easy, especially since this old mind (so I've been told) does not enjoy a teenager's life well. I can't say life in VJ isn't turning out well - in fact it's better than I thought it would be - but progress is stagnating. I need real friends, friends which are difficult to find for me (arguably I have yet to find one, since Chermaine is contentious). The need has been lessened with my Friend, but nonetheless it is a different Friend I am talking about.

Sigh. I am such a teenager.

Yes, I know. I know I am whining.

Doesn't anybody think that what you hate about others, others might hate in themselves too? That women would hate PMS-ing as much as you do, that teenagers hate their insecurity as much as your are fed up about it, that mothers hate their incessant nagging as much as daughters do?

Thoughts.

Reading Tracy's blog has also been immensely humbling, because I'm beginning to realise the full extent of my inexperience. I had a small taste when she tried to tell me about love, but I dismissed it too quickly. There are so many emotions I have yet to feel, so many events I have yet to experience for myself to even begin to try to justify myself as an important being. I recognise that I have built up a sizable amount of self-worth that is unwarranted, and I confess to condescending thoughts on many occasions that I something express, though I hope I managed to lather these bits of patronisation with nice-sounding words and usually, what-I-think-is-helpful advice.

After re-reading the conversation with Tracy, I must extend a sincere apology for the tone and attitude I took, and my lack of empathy for her situation. Being unable to do so, I belittled her choices in life, and accorded myself a sense of false pride and self-worth.

To be fair to myself (and also because I instinctively conjure excuses for myself up), I sometimes just sound that way even if I am actually not, and I was feeling rather insecure about myself in the presence of Tracy, and felt like I had a need to dominate the conversation in ways that I would otherwise not approve of. So, yeah.

Damn, now I'm flagellating myself. Again.

I have too little confidence, but berate myself for having too much confidence. What an oxymoron I am (pun pun).

I really do think too much, don't I?

Okay and now I ought to go, it's 4.46am and I need to pack my bag for school, even though I have quite a few other topics to cover. (Actually I don't think I can remember them anymore.)

Tata.

Surrogacy: To Be Legalised?

Here's the essay for my MOE Humanities Scholarship. It's been severely cut due to the chracter limit of 4000 words, but the points are there.

Posted for Anu! This blog is long dead...

Surrogacy became a sensation with the “Baby M” case . William and Elizabeth Stern desired a child, but for Elizabeth it posed a health risk. So a deal was struck with a surrogate mother, and Mary Beth Whitehead was impregnated traditionally; that is, she was the biological mother. Here's the catch: Mary refused to give her daughter up when she was born. The Sterns then brought the case to court and sued Mary for violation of the contract. The court granted custody of the child to William as her biological father, based on a “best interest of the child analysis”.

The case sparked international debate: should such contracts be enforced? Surrogacy can be morally good, especially when used as a last resort. It is then that objections to the process can be overruled, by virtue of the good it does to childless couples. Still, not everyone agrees.

As more people turned to surrogacy, surrogates were observed to decide to keep the children they birth, even gestational surrogates who have no blood relation to the child. The reason why is simple: this baby sale fails to take into account the strength of the bonds formed between a woman and her baby in her womb. Many people who oppose surrogacy capitalise on this phenomenon to express that defying Nature's will goes against natural order and therefore children must only be conceived and nurtured by their natural parents.

More pragmatic opponents argue that the moral contract can still be rendered invalid, because the surrogate fails to realise the strength of those maternal bonds. By proving it is impossible to obtain full or pure consent from the surrogate, it becomes a case of misinformation. The contract can thus be declared void under court law.

Yet a notable fact is that the judgement passed was to be “in the best interests” of the child. The government similarly has a duty to protect the mothers' interests as much as possible. This boils the issue down to two questions: who is the better mother and which mother's interest should be better protected?

Back then, it was an issue of the surrogate mother versus the biological father, but the adoptive mother should have also been considered an important stakeholder. Practically speaking, Elizabeth was better financially able to provide for the child. Seeing that Mary had two other children, Baby M would also be likely to receive more attention and care with Elizabeth. Furthermore, having gone to lengths to have her, Elizabeth would be more likely to cherish the child. Just because Elizabeth did not conceive the baby did not signify the maternal bonds were absent.

The second question concerns the issue of which mother should be granted custody, especially for a gestational surrogate who is not the biological mother. Prior to such cases, few people thought that gestation validates parenthood. But it became clear that parenthood is also defined by the sacrifices parents make, and pregnancy is a major part of it. Still, we have to consider that this was replaced with a monetary one. Even in child adoption cases, parenthood is about the choice to sacrifice daily comforts. Moreover, when the couple desperately desires a child, the inherent love they have should make them deserving of parenthood.

A important thing to note is that surrogacy contracts should not be like property exchange. Surrogacy involves the sale of a child, or paternal rights. It is said that both are inalienable; that is, they cannot and should not be voluntarily offered up in any exchange, much less a commercial one. It is the market for a child's life that dehumanises that very life and turns it into nothing more than a commodity. Surrogates, though technically owning their parental rights and thus the life of the child, cannot give or sell them away, because they are so sanctitious.Yet it remains my belief that exceptions can be made, because surrogacy is the only way out for childless couples, and it becomes humane to buy a baby to complete your life.