A very unusual AY2019/20 Semester 1: I won't be on campus at all

As per my usual practice, this post is to look ahead to the coming semester.

But there are two differences this time.

First, this post has appeared a bit earlier than its predecessors. Previously I would write a post like this a few days before the start of the semester. The coming semester starts in August. I'm a month early!

Actually I'm not. The coming "semester" for me starts next Monday, 22 July. I'll be reporting for my first day of work at my internship worksite, where I'll be spending the next six months.

Second, this post would usually contain a preview of the modules I have secured for the coming semester through bidding or pre-allocation. But there's no more bidding, that system having been scrapped in favour of an algorithmic allocation system starting from the coming semester.

Besides, there's nothing much to preview in terms of modules. There's just the one:

NM3550Y: Communications & New Media Internship
Number of MCs: 12
Grading: Standard letter grades, not eligible for S/U due to being level-3000

This module represents the compulsory internship that all Communications & New Media (CNM) students must complete in order to graduate. It is not registered for in ModReg. Rather, the department will send out a survey midway through every semester, and students who want to go on the internship the following semester must indicate their intention to do so in the survey form. The department will then hold a briefing to guide students on securing a worksite for the internship. Assessment is conducted through the submission of three written reports via LumiNUS at various points during the internship. There is also a component where the intern is assessed by their supervisor.

My internship worksite is GIC, the sovereign wealth fund of Singapore. Oh no, I know next to nothing about economics and finance! But it's okay. I will mostly be doing work in human resources and communications, which are support functions that have little to do with business. Besides, if I don't understand some business concept that I need to know in order to do my job, I can always ask. I'm there to learn, after all.

Although I'm nervous about whether I'll be able to adapt to and cope with a new environment, culture, and set of expectations, I take solace in the fact that I had wisdom and foresight when I opted to overload my previous semester so that I don't have to take evening modules during my internship just to keep up with my graduation schedule. I made sure that I have enough credits to graduate (if I want the basic degree) after completing this internship, so I only have to devote my full attention to this internship and I'll be all set (but I will stay on to complete the extra set of requirements for the Honours degree).

This blog

Like in previous semesters, I have written posts in advance which will be released automatically according to a schedule set by me. From 16 August onwards, a post will be published every fortnight. Each post will break down one chapter from The Singlish Controversy by Professor Lionel Wee, my favourite nonfiction book of all time.

I have two parents

This may come as a shock to people who only have a hi-bye relationship with me. After all, they only ever lay eyes upon my father, who is always with me as he is my full-time caregiver.

But it's true: I have a mother too.

In other words, my family is not an atypical one.

Read that sentence again so you fully understand it.

I had to structure it in such a mangled way so as to avoid being labelled insensitive towards people who grew up in single-parent families or orphans.

That's the political correctness movement for you. It's troublesome for everyone.

Anyway, I decided to make a post on this just to clear the air and make sure people don't get the wrong impression of the kind of family I have.

Okay, there's actually another reason: My mother has had a very interesting life and I want to tell some of her stories here.

No, I didn't ask for her permission. When she sees this post, she will get an unpleasant surprise at the violation of her privacy. Then she will frown and growl at me, two seconds after which all will be forgotten. So no worries, all's well that ends well.

Story #1: One person's trash...

I followed in my mother's footsteps when I decided on getting my degree from the National University of Singapore (NUS) Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences (FASS).

A testament to how disgustingly old the FASS buildings are is the fact that they are in exactly the same state as they were when she was studying there in the 1500s1980s. They have not been refurbished at all. Even the doors haven't changed. The ones along the third floor corridor in the first block still have their trademark oval windows and counterintuitive handles that unlock only when you pull them up instead of pushing them down.

My mother majored in English and Sociology. Obviously she no longer has the faintest idea what either of them are. I learned some linguistics in FASS but was disappointed when I mentioned concepts like "Brown and Levinson's theory of politeness" to her and was met with glassy eyes. When I complained that these are basic sociolinguistic theories that she should know if she had been any kind of decent student, she retorted that those concepts didn't exist during her time. Yeah, right.

If I have made my mother appear like somewhat of a dullard, I do apologise. Actually, no I don't. Because the fact is that she is a dullard. No better anecdote illustrates this than the tale of the Honours fiasco.

The story goes that she was offered the chance to take up an extra one-year Honours programme which would have allowed her to upgrade her basic Bachelor's degree to a Bachelor with Honours, a symbol of academic prowess which goes some way in impressing employers, friends, and the neighbourhood stray.

She received a letter inviting her to opt in. After careful consideration which consisted solely of an unquestioning acceptance of my father's (who was then just some random guy from the same church) two cents, she declined the university's offer in favour of graduating immediately to begin what she thought would be a glorious career as a banker. (No, not the type that makes a lot of money. Don't be daft! How can an Arts graduate get that kind of job? We're lucky if we don't end up in McDonald's. In this case, the word "banker" simply refers to someone who works in a bank. My mother was one of those poor sods who sit behind the counter and talk to whiny customers all day for a living.)

Most people would hesitate at this juncture, gripping onto the offer letter from the university with white-knuckled fists and second-guessing themselves. Even if they didn't eventually change their minds about not doing the Honours programme, they would probably keep the offer letter for posterity. Not everyone got the chance to enroll in the Honours programme after all, so it was kind of a big deal for those who did.

But my mother is a remarkably unflappable woman. Having made her decision to go into banking, she casually folded the offer letter into a neat little square, dropped it into the nearest dustbin, and sauntered off without a care in the world. No second thoughts, no looking back. It took her decades to realise that she should have kept that offer letter so she could prove to employers that her lack of Honours was by choice and not because she couldn't make it into the programme. But of course by then there was nothing she could do about it. The paper probably decomposed years before her epiphany.

My mother certainly isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, as we have now seen. But we have also seen that she is calm by nature. She has good emotional skills, allowing her to work well with difficult human beings such as the mentally ill, barbarians, and irascible men. Perhaps this is why she has found a decent measure of success in the preschool industry, where she has been for the past twenty years and now works as a senior teacher at a very expensive childcare centre for snobbish expatriates. I, on the other hand, wouldn't last a day in a preschool. Kids are such hateful creatures that I'd probably wring one of their necks before lunchtime and get frog-marched away to jail in disgrace.

I like to think that I'm a nice blend of both of my parents. My head comes from my father and my heart comes from my mother. Sure, some bits got lost along the way. For example, I can't manage other people's emotions as well as my mother can. She can calm people down with a soothing word. In contrast, I can barely manage myself and often get into trouble because of my impulsiveness. But overall, I think I got most of the best parts from each side of my parentage.

Story #2: Guts and glory

Very few people know this, but my mother is completely devoid of reproductive organs. Wait, before you jump to conclusions, no I'm not adopted. She had reproductive organs when she made me but subsequently lost them.

You see, she had had an ovarian cyst many years ago which was supposedly treated by the surgical removal of the affected ovary. But just when Singapore was in the throes of ecstasy over its Golden Jubilee, a routine scan to check for cancer revealed cysts all over her reproductive organs. Further investigation yielded a shocking discovery: the ovary which was supposed to have been removed years ago was still there! Action had to be taken swiftly or the cysts might have mutated into cancer.

So on 9 December 2015, she underwent a laparoscopic total hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy. In English, that means the surgeon made small punctures in her belly, threaded a camera on a stick through one of the holes and some small grabber arms through the others, tore my mother's cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries into manageable chunks, and yanked the pieces of viscera out through her birth canal.

Because her ovaries were abruptly removed, cutting off the supply of a very important chemical called estrogen, my mother immediately went into a critical state known to medical professionals as menopause. She began monopolising the fan at home, complaining about hot flashes which are apparently a side effect of this affliction. Given Singapore's hot and humid climate, my father and I felt the loss of the fan keenly. We each shed about 70 pounds in water weight over the few months before my mother's body restored equilibrium within itself.

This is just the most dramatic and exciting run-in out of a slew of encounters my mother has had with doctors. She drew the genetic short straw when it comes to diseases, unfortunately. Her bladder literally bleeds into her urine. There is a blood vessel in her bladder wall that, by some genetic abnormality, leaks tiny amounts of red blood cells into the bladder itself. And she has had plastic lenses embedded in both eyes because her original ones turned cloudy due to a condition called cataract and had to be replaced. She still has to go for regular eye checks though, because she has another condition called glaucoma which may lead to vision loss in old age.

I, too, have had my fair share of experiences with doctors because of my ailment. But this post isn't about me so those stories won't be found here. Maybe next time.

Before then though, let me just reiterate the most important point in this entire post:
I have a pair of parents. We are a well-adjusted little family of three. Just because you don't see the third member doesn't mean there isn't one.

My experience writing for TODAYonline

Quotable quotes

On my writing skills:
"Jonathan has a flair for writing." ~ Ms Pillai, my Primary 1 form teacher
"You have a nice voice. Don't ever lose it." ~ Mr Ong, an English teacher at my secondary school
"You have a very precious gift. You should do something with it." ~ Dr Tan, ex-university lecturer

On seizing chances for personal development as a student:
"Sometimes opportunities can appear in the most unexpected of places, like in your student inbox." ~ Ms Chia, speaker at a polytechnic scholarship ceremony

It came on 24 September 2018, the recess week of Semester 1 of the 2018/19 academic year, from the Communications and New Media (CNM) department's general office.

"Read your own articles on TODAY!" blared the subject line.

The National University of Singapore (NUS) email server is notorious for being a spam delivery service, and I delete 75% of the emails I get, but this one stopped my finger dead in its tracks before it could press the trash can button.

First, my ego shouted: "That sounds awesome! You could become famous!"

Then, my more rational side said: "This could be a good opportunity for you to practise your public writing, and have some published works to show to potential employers."

Finally, a small but insistent voice, which is the truest version of myself, nagged at me: "Got money or not?" (English translation: Will you get paid?)

Intrigued, I opened the email.

"Are you an avid writer?" it began.

Yes, I am, I thought, reminded of this blog which I love tending to.

"Do you have a story dying to be shared with the world?" it continued.

This gave me pause. I have quite a humdrum existence. Then I remembered that the whole idea of storytelling skills, the most important for communications practitioners, is to make something seem exciting even if it's not. I resolved to squeeze out a good story from somewhere.

I read on.

"TODAY wants to hear from you! As part of TODAY’s efforts to diversify its reader pool, it wants more user-generated content from youth like yourself! Put your passion for a cause – be it climate change, education, public transport, of politics – into words; raise awareness of your pet topics, and inspire action! Share with us your op-eds, commentaries, letters, or even photography and videography work which you know will resonate among fellow young readers."

Bingo. I had my story.

At that time, I was volunteering for a group that rescues rabbits. This fit the theme of "passion for a cause". I decided to write something about that.

I also decided, after much deliberation, to depart from my usual policy of not playing the disability card. Previously, I had never enjoyed highlighting the fact that I am disabled and only did so when absolutely necessary, such as to get assistance or accommodations that I really needed.

But I realised that being disabled gives me a huge leg up (figuratively, of course, since my actual legs haven't been "up" for many years now) when it comes to crafting compelling narratives.

Most of the time it's compelling because it evokes pity, which I hate. Sometimes it's compelling because people find it inspiring, which I also don't like as I explain in my fifth commentary (see below). But I'm not going to let my pet peeves get in the way of a good story. If people want to pity me or get inspired by me, they are welcome to do so as long as they read my writing and enjoy it.

With that settled, I sat down (I didn't actually do this, because I was already in a seated position) to write. A few hours later (when I am seized with writing frenzy, I can be extremely productive), I had a draft.

I sent the draft to the CNM general office. A couple of days later, I was linked up with the editor in charge of commentaries at TODAYonline.

Lineage

Let me digress a little bit here. Many years ago, before smartphones killed the radio star, TODAY used to be a printed newspaper. I used to be a loyal reader, because it was tabloid-sized and easier for me to handle compared to the broadsheet Straits Times.

Since those days, TODAY has always had very interesting and insightful op-eds. It used to run regular humour columns by Mr Brown and Neil Humphreys, two of the most popular bloggers in Singapore at that time. And I particularly loved the weekly commentaries by a Sri Lankan airline pilot called Mr Elmo (I can't remember the surname), not only because I was crazy about the Sesame Street character of the same name but also because I still harboured fanciful childhood dreams of a flying career back then and greatly enjoyed reading his anecdotes of life in the cockpit.

Then smartphones came along and hardcopy advertising went out of vogue. TODAY lost a big chunk of revenue and couldn't afford to be printed anymore, so it became a digital newspaper. In the last couple of years before it discontinued the print version, it was obvious that it was in trouble as editorial standards became almost non-existent. Here's an example that I spotted and wrote about on Facebook:

So now there are no more physical copies of TODAY. It's all online. But what hasn't changed is the quality of its commentaries, which are still excellent. The fact that I have had the chance to partake in this excellence fills me with pride and gratitude.

First story

Okay, let's get back to talking about the editor. He got in touch with me and told me that my submission was okay but needed some work before it could be published. I was expecting that, because I'm not deluded enough to believe that my writing has absolutely no room for improvement.

We worked together to brush up the piece. This involved trimming it down to a length that people are willing to read all the way to the end (not like this blog entry, which is way too long), putting in elements such as key learning points that make it worth people's time to read, and eliminating clunky and awkward phrasing. Gradually, it shaped up and was published on 28 October 2018.

Through the experience, I realised that having an editor can turn a good piece of writing into a magical one. Until then I had only ever had my writing critiqued by my university instructor Dr Tan, whose quote I featured at the start of this blog post. But those were class assignments. This was real.

An analogy would be diamonds. Writers are like the miners who dig the diamonds out of the ground. The diamonds are nice, but their full value is not yet unlocked. Editors are like the craftsmen who grind and cut the diamonds until they glisten and sparkle, allowing the full value of the diamonds to be unlocked.

Stalker alert

I like to know as much as I can about new people I come across. Euphemistically, I like to borrow a piece of praise that Dr Tan once blessed me with and say "I have a nose for news", but honestly I'm just kaypoh (English translation: busybody).

As is my usual practice, I started poking around for information on this editor that I had just gotten to know. He is a hard man to track down, which is not surprising since he shares the same name as a famous fictional spy with amnesia. Apart from work-related matters like his LinkedIn page and articles by him, there were not many traces of him in cyberspace aside from an abandoned Twitter profile and a feature about his career on the website of his alma mater. One thing I did learn from an old photo I unearthed was that he is a spitting image of Donnie Yen, the action movie star best known for his role as the titular character in the Ip Man martial arts film franchise.

That's all I shall say about this. I respect him and don't want to inadvertently dox him. He obviously values his privacy. Also, he is going to read this blog post and I don't want to make him angry or he won't want to talk to me anymore.

The next story

After my first story was published, a second soon followed on 11 November 2018.

It came about because at that time, there was some debate in the media about the effectiveness of tertiary education in preparing students for work, and comparisons were being made between junior colleges, polytechnics, and universities.

Who better to contribute to the discussion than a student? Not only was I a university student, I had previously studied at a polytechnic. This was a non-traditional path, as the convention is to go from a junior college to a university. Polytechnic students are thought to be less academically inclined and not as suited to university education.

So I wanted to share my view: Polytechnic students are equally deserving of being in a university. It's not true that we cannot cope with academic rigour. Many of us get into university and thrive. And because our polytechnic background imparts us with skills that a background in junior college doesn't, enlightened employers know that we are better able to function right out of the box.

Money face

One of the most awesome things about writing for TODAYonline is getting paid. I am a freelancer with a contract that stipulates that I am paid for each published piece.

This is great for two reasons:

1. I retain full control over my life. When I have time and feel like it, I write and get paid. If I'm busy or just lazy, I have the freedom to simply not write and get no money.
2. For someone who previously had zero income other than handouts from relatives, being able to earn money is extremely empowering. It means I can go shopping, a pastime that I enjoy very much.

The third and fourth

As I mentioned, the freelance arrangement with TODAYonline allows me to slack off whenever I want to. This was what happened over the few months as 2018 made way for 2019. I didn't write anything during that period, and I didn't get paid.

But soon, I got antsy to write again. Schoolwork gets tiresome if it isn't interrupted with other activities. I can't go play sports or hang out, so writing things other than academic essays is what I turn to for leisure.

Also, it dawned on me that my internship application was drawing near. Having as many published pieces as possible might help me make a stronger case to employers.

I seized on a trending topic at the time: the rising trend of social media vigilantism. As a CNM student, I reasoned that I had the credibility to write about it.

The piece was published on 17 February 2019.

Schoolwork consumed my life over the following few months. I was trying to clear all my graduation requirements before going on the internship so I had overloaded the semester, taking more modules than normal. And I also had to juggle the task of looking for an internship placement that I liked and would accept me and my disability.

When the semester ended, I was free to go back to writing. I took a couple of weeks off to play computer games and refresh my mind first, then threw myself into the task.

My fourth piece came out on 16 June 2019. It was a blockbuster, if I say so myself. The cover photo, which my mother took using my smartphone one night upon my instructions, featured me lying in bed in my pyjamas and wearing my ventilator. Such an attention-grabbing visual was sure to attract people to click on the article, and they did so in droves. According to the editor, the article had five times more than the average view count for commentaries. The topic was death and the emotional impact meant that it was widely shared and generated quite a lot of buzz online. It even got me invited onto radio and television programmes. But I declined them because I am really, really slow on my feet and stammer a lot when talking. My best work is done in front of a computer with all the time in the world to think of what I want to say.

Playing with the big boys

Hot on the heels of the fourth was the fifth, published on 5 July 2019.

It's special to me because it was the first time I was "promoted" to the "grownups area". My previous commentaries had all been published under Sunday's Gen Y Speaks column, which features younger writers and topics that are more youth-centric such as personal reflections, travel, and entrepreneurship. But this one was published on a Friday, where non-youth commentaries like those on economics or social issues usually appear. I felt honoured that the editor saw fit to give me a place together with the adults.

The piece was about how I don't mind people calling me a "disabled/handicapped person" but dislike it when they say I'm an inspiration. It wasn't spurred by any particular person or incident, but rather a buildup of many times being told how inspiring I am, which upsets me, as well as hearing the oft-repeated exhortation from "advocates" and "experts" who are not disabled themselves to anyone who will listen not to use "disabled person" and instead use "person with disability", which I find pointless and daft.

Continuing the trend of good performance from the previous piece, this one got twice the number of views compared to the average for commentaries.

To infinity and beyond

What's next? There probably won't be as many new pieces from me in the coming months, if at all. I'll be concentrating on my internship so my weekdays will be burned. Weekends will be reserved for recuperating and dealing with the reports that I have to submit to my university as part of the internship assessment requirements.

But I will always come back to TODAYonline. It gave me a chance, and my first break into actually writing for public consumption. Besides, I like my editor very much. He's a straightforward, no-bullshit kind of guy, which I appreciate especially in this world full of snakes.

The money, of course, seals the deal!