The Forced Blog

As much as I like Joshua’s writing in the previous post, I have to say that unlike Joshua, I am quite ambivalent on this issue.

Penning words to paper the old, traditional way is very emotional, yes, but who says using a keyboard is not? Do our emotions get lost through the complex circuitry present in technology nowadays? Nope. These serve merely as interfaces for us to jot down our thoughts, a way in which we communicate. Film composers use synthesizers and computers to composer their music. But when we look at a film, say, Pirates of the Carribean, we say, “Hell, this music is awesome!” and not, “hell, this music is so computerized.”

Perhaps the only thing that makes computers feel so distant is not because of the lack of emotion, but because of the lack of solidity. Many would prefer reading a book on paper because page turning is so much more rewarding than mouse-scrolling (not to mention much less taxing on the eyes). For that reason, people tend to shy away from reading literary material using a computer. A teenager will close the tab on Shakespeare and open a new tab for facebook instead. But then, the querulous will complain that computers have no emotion, when exemplary works of literature are all around the internet! The pros of technology are abundant, it’s just that blinded ignoramus get distracted too easily, seeking the easy way out all the time, choosing facebook over Shakespeare, choosing youtube over the New York Times. (On a lighter note, I shall admit I am one of them.)

Have you ever written letters? Not love letters, not those, but REAL letters which you seal in an envelope and post it with a stamp. (And no, scholarship applications and school assignments don’t count).  Now I think of it, I’ve only written one letter in my life. It was for my late grandmother. For this, I can see the merits in letter writing. Again, solidity plays a major role. When someone gives you a letter, it’s always to be able to hold them, to feel in your fingertips the inscribing of the words behind the paper. You then look at their handwriting, which conveys love, support and compassion in their strokes of the pen. Like our personalities, everyone’s handwriting is different. Some slant towards the left, some slant towards the right; some apply more pressure, some apply less. These insignificant details all convey our personality traits in real life. Alas, in emails, all we get is a size 12 Times New Roman!

This situation then leaves us in an unfortunate predicament.  We don’t want our emotions to be fettered, yet we need convenience. We want to write a lot of personal statements, yet deluge in the satisfaction that what we had written has been read. We need security, yet we are inclined to take risks at the same time. To pen or not to pen? That is the question.

It seems the best way to record your thoughts, in this age of time, is to blog. It is the most efficacious way of communicating your thoughts with others. The internet holds many treasures, blogging being one of them. Embrace blogging, for it may be one of your most gratifying endeavours!

Nigel

Hmm.. The Forced Blog? What sort of title could one give a blog? Apparently. that’s what my group member, Nigel, did. This being my first attempt at blogging, I can’t help but look back with some satirical humour. Never in my whole life could I foresee myself blogging right this moment. The screen before me, the wall behind me. What shall I write? Daily events? Dirty jokes? Or pictures which speaks “a thousand words”? First and foremost, I do not have any hidden agenda against bloggers or that bloggers are downright stupid. Rather, I think that blogging is mechanical. Or so it seems. A personal favourite of mine is writing letters. Though the masses may not see the difference between blogging and letter writing, yet there is a HUGE difference.

Writing and typing differs by a huge margin. Well, who would prefer to do the SAT online rather than on a normal exam paper? Would you want to stare at the screen for four hours? By the end of the year, eye cancer would be most bound to capture me by the hair laughing , ” I TOLD YOU SO”. Thankfully, the Americans have enough sense to avoid this absurd idea. But more importantly is the fact that writing comes from the heart. When one writes, emotion is poured into the very ideas jotted down on the paper. The sentences cancelled out and scribbles made in blue ink ; the sweat stained paper looking messily is more than just a paper of writing. It is the well which contains the soul of the human heart. Thoughts and feelings that we people find hard to express through speech are shared on this thin paper. In a world where sophisticated technology has taken hold of many young people, the trend of writing is slowly fading away. The emergence of scientific products such as the Internet, emails, handphones , etc. has potential catastrophic effects on the language system. SMSes taking control and short forms being used; are we really going to lose a generation which has grown up to forsake writing? As I write this, an imminent truth looms before me. I try to avoid it, but yet it cannot be hidden. Honestly, a hope for this generation in finding the right path again may seem small; however, a hope IS STILL A HOPE. A small percentage it may be, but 1% is still a percent. The love for penning down thoughts can be rekindled. How so, many ask. I say, through self- realization. No one can help you , but yourself. We may help you along the way with cheering , but the race is for you to run. The race is for you to finish.

The clock ticking sound drums in the back of my head. Time creeps by. What more shall I say? The ironic picture of a young mother feeding her baby daughter happily, though surrounded by huge piles of rubbish and dirt, plays in my mind. The same thing is happening in reality this very moment. I am succumbing to the harsh reality of blogging.

I have come to this conclusion. I need to change in order for people to change. Madam Ong’s subtle statement has hit its target. I NEED TO CHANGE . To make others realise my true intentions, I need to conform. There can be no more reasons such as to who is correct. All that matters now is conformation. And that is what I shall do. My ideas will have their fair share of content on the blog as well as on the paper. Nothing will be kept hidden. My heart poured out, emotions laid bare, I feel the same sentimentality for this very article I am blogging.  I realise something else. Something which is more prominent. It is neither the conditions we are in nor the rules we have been taught to follow that change us. Instead, it is realisation of one’s true core and essence that causes change. With purpose, comes change. Thus, the same condition applies here. No longer does the feel of the clicking mechanism on the computer hit me hard in the face. I have learnt to pour out the same emotions which I have shown in writing, over here. It has all become a matter of  adaptation. Something very useful, the ability to share feelings with the same intensity has finally dawned upon me. And grow in it, I shall.

The clock  ticks away. Minutes gone by.

I know that is the truth for the truth sets one free. And free indeed, I am. This is the first of more to come. How many more, I do not know. My patience and motivation in this may fail. Yet , I know this. Whenever I write, I put my all into it and nothing will hinder me from sharing my honesty. If I can fail at being able to make my readers feel the emotions of my thoughts, how then can I succeed in the all-encompassing field of human character..

And so long shall The Forced Blog live. Ironically, the title for the blog seems a perfect fit. Forced I was into the world of blogging. Forsaking my personal rules, I hope that along the way, The Forced Blog will no longer be The Forced Blog it is now. Rather, it will be The Forced Blog I was forced to love through persuasion. IT will be not just a blog. It will be the essence of it’s writer. Till then, live long and prosper.

Joshua Y. 09

The little salad bar at Pizza Hut was always a nice place. For one, I love consuming vegetables, and salad-stacking gave me immense satisfaction. I could spend a good 20 minutes trying to squeeze in that one last cucumber, or stack up those colourful little beans up to the point where one more extra bean would cause the whole lovely bean-family to topple.

That day was no different. My friends and I went to Pizza Hut. The need for a fresh bowl of garden salad arises, and needless to say I was the one up for the task. I walked to the all so familiar salad bar and started stacking.

I was carefully arranging the lettuce around the bowl when a girl came and stood beside me. Hunched over, I could see her grabbing a bowl, and from the little gleam in her eyes I could see her excitement about the prospect of stacking. Oh my, you should have seen her dexterity! The way her hands move so quickly and piling up the salad was mesmerizing. Comparing her to me was like comparing Usain Bolt to a 5-year-old toddler trying to run.

Unable to believe what I was seeing, I muttered a few of the the dumbest words one could say to a salad-stacker:

“Hi, you like salad too?”

“Yeah,” she said, “they’re nice.”

Lame opener aside, the conversation went really well (and so did the stacking). Turns out she was a salad freak who couldn’t live without that holy food. She imparted upon me her wisdom, which now I have forgotten all but one: something to do with using the thousand island sauce as cement to fill out the gaps.

Her name was Gina, and I never got her number.

Nigel