Hopelessness"To fight without hope is to fight with grace,
the self reconstructed, the false heart repaired."
--Herbert Read, To a conscript of 1940.
You know times are sad when election becomes a popularity contest rather than a measure of a person's capability (makes mental note to learn all the names of the girls, braid their hair and treat them to cookies). You know times are bad when the fact that the vox populae might install as the de jure leader, could be an amatuer who would be more inclined to lead the institution to the bier of (further) destruction or derelict than any amelioration of the present dismal predicament.
You know times are sadder when the above is a cause for mass exodus, following a previous bouts of doch an dorris already. And it is even sadder to note that, some of them do not even conduct themselves with the slightest hint of professionalism.
To an extent, I feel G was misjudged by the teacher who spoke of virtues of being in a musical organisation and ergo, was effectively exiled from the Band Room he had come to love.
Not that he(G) is arrogant, nor am I arrogant, but music DOES NOT DEIGN. Then again, we try. Nothing could be improved, nothing could be done if the school decides to deny the musicians the proper vested interest and power to galvanise the change that ambitions call for.
Musicianship makes no compromise. Up to a certain point, I don't claim to be the best musician becuase I recognise and acknowledge that I may not be that good as a musician myself. I begin to wonder if I could actually judge others. For what it is worth, I might be in the end, a passionate dilettante. However, I think what matters, is that at least I work like a true musician.
Passion is not a crime, neither is opening doors for the uninitated to our world; in fact I feel glad that I could be part of the process that warrants me to share the joy of music with my peers and do what I have come to love with these people. What constitutes a crime, is that our musical institutions in school are not approprately represented, just like the other facets of the college. Nevetheless, the fierce, inordinately optimistic endeavours of a virago that could /ostensiblyultimately become her undoing would be the final pinch of salt.
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I felt I had to blog about these matters when I learnt of G's banishment and after I inadvertantly stumbled upon Andy's letter to Ms Yap (I am sorry about that, Ms Yap) about the decline of his love for what he had been doing for the past few years and the decadence in the chorale that he had once loved/came to love. In a sense, I sympathised with him and I fucking cried when I saw it.
I did not merely see the disillusioned senior's letter in my hand. In this epistle, I saw his helplessness, which was what I felt being where I am now. YJC is a shadow compared to the other heavyweights in the choral scene, or just the JC musical scene alone - as much as we do not desire to compare.
Oh yea, academically-wise, not at all copacetic also.
At the end of the day, YJC and the other schools are an integral part of a Singaporean society, where we are limited by the grimness of practicality and branded by tangible results, cost-benefit analyses. And at the end of the day, he had to bear the brunt of this societal prejudice and decide for himself he couldn't stay because he felt that he had failed himself and the school, and the choir per se, had failed him becuase it couldn't demonstrate the salvation that he had hoped for and it did not give him an oppturnity to take part in the overall process at all.
This is not about comparing miseries. I had to make sacrifices to make way for YJC chorale and I felt/still feel the same disappointment as Andy did. I lost my second a cappella group and I gave up on the prospects of income. Some might ask, why do I even bother about a choir that lacks standards, why do I make personal sacrifices for a school that provides little incentive to work towards that dream they claim to have but have no resources to work with, why do I even want to be in a choir that I (still) can't be proud of. I don't really know. Perhaps, I feel great affection for the choir and I look up to redoubtable seniors like Andy whom I respected for holding his ground in the choir despite not having a true leadership position? Or,is it just Ms Yap, like Professor Xavier to the X-men, that convinced me that there is a greater good beyond the superficial reapings, if any?
It made me reflect what I stood now and the possible choices I would have to make in the end. No matter how sad times become, I believe we are the faculty that stand between the agon of hopelessness and faith altogether. We are our own hands and minds. I believe everyone is here for a reason. That is why I am staying. And fighting the good fight. With a bunch of monkeys. And a dearth of proficient primatlogoists.
Who knows? Perhaps one day, all these efforts would come into a continuum that would justify the tears I shed while I write tonight. Someday, monkeys evolve too.
cuRRent...jer