Liquid Courage

Liquid Courage

Hello everyone! My name is An Wen, a first-year SMU undergraduate currently exploring the intricacies of the human condition both as an eager student and a weary perpetrator of this education construct. Besides lamenting about minor inconveniences and fighting the urge to skip morning classes, the university has graciously broadened my range of hobbies to promote holistic development; now including cramming for examinations and group projects. A real character milestone there. Fun fact, I used to write blogs...exaggerated pieces that illustrated my thoughts on what I deemed to be "more sensitive" topics troubling the youth. It gave me a sense of purpose, a meaning to the madness of volatile terrains conjured by my thoughts. A crutch that turned mental stabiliser as I embark on this new chapter.  

The social climate of university remains fluid in structure, shaped by societal stigmas and personal endeavors. Marked by academic battles and emotional bloodshed, the resilient life forms that thrive in this dynamic ecosystem continue their endless trudge forward, driven by a shared desire to attain self-actualisation upon their final stage of education evolution. Apex academics adapted to prosper in the harsh real world with wings of knowledge, scales of accolades, and fangs of experience. To evolve and to overcome. We will get there one day. 

But then again, depicting universities as pedagogical habitats mass-molding corporate beasts seems rather...undeserved, especially in the case of SMU. The foundation of its open curriculum system, boldly reinforced with mandatory classroom participation and passionate professors, has resulted in ideas ceaselessly ventilating the inspired atmosphere, turning an otherwise mundane lesson on Singapore's history into a living, breathing past where students are immersed and connected to the palpable struggles and victories of Temasek. 

Listening to my classmates' hush, nervous nervous whispers transforming into enthusiastic echoes over time has developed into sincere music, and I am grateful to have witnessed their growth. The symphony of schooling continues in my modules, a dizzying orchestra birthed from the heartfelt strings of human emotion in Psychology, the divulging drums of Sociology, and the sharpened vocals of Management Communication. Oh and the uh...annoying squeaks from the supposedly-important-but-I-still-don't-see-it harmonica of Statistics. My deepest apologies Ms Ching. 

Being the composer of this ensemble, I am conflicted. While I do relish the learning experience, my hands that have commanded with much grace and gusto occasionally find themselves uncontrollable and disorganized, trembling under the failure to attain good grades and to juggle commitments. It is difficult to believe that universities have started to stray away from the confines of the linear, narrowly-driven education system. Reimagining this landscape by deforesting structural stigmas is an uneasy task, and I am grateful for SMU's efforts in assimilating new species into their modern, progressive ennvironment. But after trudging through a jungle (literally) dense with conformity and expectations for decades, a meadow may be too drastic of a change in scenery. 

And this is what my first semester has been; an exhausting attempt to readapt and transition. Academics aside, my vibrant emotional fabric wears thin with each passing sun. I have always enjoyed exploring the nuances of human behavior and sentiments, but my ventures to fathom its fundamentals have faded. I struggle to navigate through this uniquely familiar climate, and interactions with my classmates can feel like gazing into an unending expanse that leaves me blinded by confusion. 

The horizon I see is beautiful. The friendships forged in the flames of my first semester torch my motivation to carry on. Every step, a bonfire of laughter. Every conversation, burning embers of memories. 

The horizon's reflection onto the turbulent sea is tragic. People don't think anymore. Frigid words echo in the cold caves of my mind. No one cares about the well-being of others; the lighthouse guides the selfish, leaving other vessels isolated in the vast blue, confused. Don't they know that we bleed the same?

Nonetheless, it is a path that we must voyage. An adventure of certain uncertainty. It will be a refreshing change of pace next semester, a new chapter soon to be written. The stage is set for us. Props clutter the backstage, and new characters eagerly wait for their cue. You sit among the audience, waiting, watching, contemplating how to direct the next scene. We are all in it together. Let us embrace the unknown and allow it to guide our script. Let us play the victim and the victor.  

Let us pour ourselves a glass of liquid courage as we witness a masterpiece unfold before us. 

- An Wen