The organised chaos


Is it that hard to listen to someone’s troubles?
It is that tough to be a counsel, to hear one’s unhappiness and just be there?
Is solving the problem more important that providing a listening ear to someone who is tired?
Is empathy such a difficult word to understand?

Why is pouring out one’s heart and soul always construed as complaining and whining?
Why can’t one just talk one’s thoughts?
Why can’t people just try to understand why such thoughts are being thought of in the first place instead of glancing at the superficial?

I’m so frustrated at people who wouldn’t just listen.

The organised chaos

Where is the passion?

No no, lest you think this is some X-rated posting, this is not about that passion but about passion someone has for something.

I used to be passionate about so many things.

I loved Literature. I used to go to the library to borrow literary works. Some of my favourites include Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (yes, she of “How do I love Thee, Let me count the ways”), Sylvia Plath and Edna St Vincent Millay. But somehow along the way, I dropped Literature and went into contemporary novels.

I loved being in Theatre Studies and Drama too, back in JC times. Although I was crap at acting, I loved being in the studio and doing improvisation with my classmates, who were all extremely talented. In year one, we bitched about demanding and unreasonable seniors who expected us to stay well till midnight with them, rehearsing. In year two, when deadlines loomed and inspiration just would not come, tempers flared, tears flowed and angry words were exchanged. But through all these turmoil, beautiful works of theatre would flourish and the sense of satisfaction that one got from seeing the audience’s awe was well worth every ounce of sweat and tears. My proudest achievements in life remain my two group pieces. We deserve the As that we got.

And then there is the great love of my life – choir. VJChoir was never just a choir, it was a home away from home, a sanctuary from the humdrum of stressful life. Skipping lessons and hiding in choir room playing scrabble are just some of my fondest memories in life. I enjoyed practising till 9 or 10 at night. I skipped extra TSD classes just so I could go and watch the meteor shower with choir. I cried bitterly when we lost SYF in 1999, sneaking to school late the next day with puffy eyes. I laughed merrily when we won the competition in Germany and had my hands warmed by a very special someone. Hell, I even let two cute Caucasians put their arms around me when we took pictures.

But now, I just don’t feel the drive anymore, especially in Chorale. Sure, I still love singing and I enjoy doing PR but somehow, that motivation to excel is not there anymore. When practices run a little late, I feel grumpy and tired. Yet in VJ, we would all pile on extra sectionals just so that we could perfect our notes.

What has happened? I know we can’t compare, these are two different groups. But how can feelings change so drastically? I love Chorale and it has become like family to me. But I don’t feel the urge to improve anymore. I don’t feel the passion, the intensity, the push, the drive.

Perhaps it’s due to all that has happened recently, what with all the politicking and nonsensical bitching from some immatured souls. I’m more blase than before. And everywhere I look, people either seem to be tired of putting Chorale as their priority only to be disappointed or they treat Chorale as a walk-in hotel. This is not the Chorale that I love.

I fear I am beginning to lose it.