IGOR III

 IGOR III

At last, the long awaited Year Review by yours truly has once again graced your digital screens. No need to thank me, for gift giving has been a Christmas tradition since Rudolph was a red-nosed reindeer, although with a nose so bright it is rather curious how no one has spotted Santa's sleigh all these years. And not to jingle my bells but I must say that these little blogs of mine bring me immense pride. 

As a passionate (don't quote me) individual of mental health writing these reflective pieces allows me that insight into the human condition. The inspiration for my debut, Kumbaya, seemed almost reckless at the time. An impulsive melody saw me dancing without thought that night, and an unexplainable urge seeped into my subconscious to fish the buried, excited topic of religion out my mental, intrusive sea, and thus begun the journey of It's all relative. The fundamentals of this blog is rather simple; to share my beliefs on topics I feel most youth think about in today's society, topics that are perhaps beneath an ocean of doubt or insecurity, waiting for reflection. Although I am but a cerebral novice, my attempt to uncover and immortalize such thoughts has since received unexpected reception teeming with positivity, and I am truly grateful for each of one of you. Although personal impact weighs intangible, I am confident that new perspectives have been opened for at least one of you dear readers, and to me that means everything.

Individually though, the year has been rather rhapsodic. A definite upbeat compared to the last symphony, although I am not sure why exactly. To attribute it to a growing maturity would be foolishly arrogant, for I do not believe I have evolved in that particular aspect. In hindsight, I have been a considerably poor empathic and, it seems, a hypocrite for my aspirations towards strengthening mental health remains pure. Wrath birthed bleak landscape, and I find myself lashing out at the most trivial of matters. My vision, tunneled, rendered those moments justified on my personal scale of ethics, leaving my friends and family disoriented. I felt transformed into this irritable, hostile creature.

Funnily enough, I will not apologize for them. My impression, however tainted, has nothing to do with this decision, nor is my ego, however mangled. Spontaneous ethics. There, I coined it. Morals are not definite faces of right and wrong, and a social compasses do not identify a singular destination. I get that, and am aware that different individuals abide to varying values but on occasion, while I try my hardest to respect their decisions the output behaviors displayed are just so off-tangent, so backwards when compared to my personal values that I just...snap.  

The progress of others and the "bare minimum" are the two things I found myself reluctant to compromise this year, in camp and at home respectively. And to be fair the bystanders, the relevant ones at least, often agree that the subjected party is indeed wrong, and I always take a perceptive approach when delivering the vocal carnage, allowing the disputed to reflect how his behavior has affected others. But even with this seemingly "supportive" spine my posture remains contorted, twisted with doubt by my own actions. Were my condemnations justified, and if not what are then the basis of judgement? Is this real awareness, or merely a consoling delusion? Does this make me a realized individual, or is that in itself an immature mindset?

These riddles taunted me this year, and I could attempt to unravel its sickening mysteries on this article but it would be a rather boring endeavor. After all, such enigmas are best reserved for one's own existential exploration. This year saw me welcoming vulnerability and with it soared through the bipolar sky lucid with opportunities of rebirth, of new beginnings.

Sinister crows, perhaps the same ones that mocked my enlistment, circled the regimented atmosphere of Pulau Tekong where I would live out the remaining of my NS Journey. The bitter taste of conscription, while still there, ironically bestowed upon me a new, excited purpose and I was determined to inspire (or at least try) the young men under my charge, ready to take on my appointment as a Platoon Commander. 

Then I realised that NSFs are but a pixel used to decorate the unempathetic, masqueraded uniform designed to perhaps camouflage the overwhelming pressure in the face of modern media more so than in jungle terrain. My dream to change...to strengthen the hearts and minds of young men was stripped from me almost immediately, and my resentful appetite resurfaced. I was dumped to Headquarters on an arbitrary basis, and now my daily routine consists of anchoring impatient meetings to battling impatient superiors, though I am not sure which taunts me more. 

On a more positive note, I think I fell in love this year...or at least the equivalent of how a lost, inexperienced youth perceives the emotion. Although no, we are not in a relationship, she is someone that makes me want to be a better person, which I think is cardinal nonetheless. The desire to care for her comes so easily, which can prove difficult as I still get anxious whenever we meet. No woven words can possibly illustrate my feelings, and the web of fond memories shared between us brightens up even the darkest moments upon reminiscence.  

With each passing day, an unknown endeavor. Life is, in essence, a physical visualization of evolution and a year is, at its fundamentals, an intangible measuring device. Nothing revolutionizes when the clock strikes midnight, but we are agents of change. Each one of us. Change does not adhere to time, nor does it of space. It manipulates on our will, our determination to create impact. New year resolutions are stupid because it binds evolution to a meaningless figure. There is no golden hour. There is only the present. There is only the now. 

That said, there are of course certain breakthroughs that could have kept dormant. Mobius, for instance, straight up sucked. No pun intended. 

- Molly