Create or Else: Tham Khai Meng

"Emptiness. I think that's one of the scariest things but yet one of the most beautiful things." - Tham Khai Meng

Playing nice in the year of the wabbit

Like all dreams it was a mix bag of moments barely hiding issues long forgotten. The holidays have brought back with it memories that, in the course of the year or years, I have conveniently tucked away in neat little cubbyholes in the hope that they might simply disintegrate with the passing of time. It was naïve of me, obviously, as these things have a way of tumbling back out when least expected. As it was the holidays and everyone had too much time on their hands, it was actually my closest and dearest who coaxed them back out without so much as an excuse me.

And now I am left with a mess that even managed to sneak into my afternoon nap.

It’s my least favorite thing—taking stock of myself. And I’m not referring to that cursory self-awareness exercise we engage in after we turn out the light. I mean the kind where you have to squint your eyes hard to read into the near and far future including a long hard look at the past and think, really think, how on earth you can get from point J to point Q using the mess of mind, heart, fat and gristle that you currently are. I’m tired. And all I really want to do is motor on, dragging whatever bits of me is left that haven’t fallen off or been eaten by hyenas. But taking stock is actually the easy part. It’s the rebuilding and retooling I dread. It’s that Jack Nicholson moment where he admits, “You make me wanna be a better man”. Only instead of an underpaid, oppressed waitress, I have to admit it to myself. And frankly, Me is too old, too tired to be saying that to Me.

Everything starts with a decision, I’ve always maintained. In the past, I’ve made several decisions that I felt good about. Smug, even. I thought I had gotten rid of the monkeys on my back. I never thought they would come back but some did. Not as alive as they were but as awkward zombies trying to see if they can still nick parts of me here and there. And then there are the new monkeys. Ones that I haven’t yet retooled myself for.

I remember when I was young, my Uncle, when he was still working for IRRI, told me a story about how the good scientists were once stumped by a particular strain of pest that threatened to wipe out the year’s harvest. This strain proved resistant to even the most sophisticated pesticide they could come up with. Until finally they had the brilliant idea of introducing another strain of pest—an old, primitive strain that they had long since eradicated. It worked. The current strain was so used to having all sorts of sophisticated cures thrown at it that it learned how to evolve and mimic the properties of the cure and use them to its advantage. But it was no match to the older, simpler strain. It was just too primitive for the sophisticated little bugger to understand. And fight.

Therefore in 2011 I have decided to eschew all forms of sophisticated thinking in my personal life. At least none of the numbing analysis, the tedious pros and cons, the painful back and forth and the meticulous self-editing. Without realizing it, these things have become my monkeys too. Looking back I think I may have hurt myself more by over-thinking everything. Worse, I have hurt others. Some even crawled out of the woodwork to say I’ve hurt them. Oof.

So in 2011 I have decided to be good. And I absolutely mean it in that simple, near-insipid way children promise to be good. It’s Kindergarten once again and I’m waiting for my turn at the swing. Let’s see if Me can still make Me a better (wo)man.