Sponge v Easter Egg

Ever since I got my personal laptop and the wireless infrastructure in school and at home, I felt globalisation and the power shift all at once.

I’m sure all of us tech literate geeks of the new age experience the same thing – google for any information. But I’ve become even more reliant on it since I got my, as Margaret Chan says, brain that “we carry around externally”. Mine’s an IBM Intel Centrino 1.5 Ghz, 512 Mb memory with 40 Gb harddrive, lor. That too, was the result of a quick google search on my laptop’s specifications.

So tell me, why do I need to remember anything at all?

Except maybe, the times when my kettle with the broken whistle is put on the stove to boil water. Other than that, I can obtain any information, from the most relevant to trivial, at my fingertips, literally. Somehow, we seem to have moved towards a time where the grey matter in our skulls is no longer needed for accumulating knowledge and knowing facts.

And this perversion of easily accessible knowledge has gone to such an extent it has degenerated the structure of even my examinations. All my exams this term were open-booked because the “enlightened” professors decided they should train us based on simulation of the real world, where we have access to all the information we need to solve problems; instead of testing us on our willingness to stuff our brains and our ability to do so.

Suddenly, I feel like I’m some sort of empty shell. Before going to university, I was a walking sponge that can only suck up the necessary information and then squeeze it all out when necessary. Now, I’m just an easter egg. The contents removed, the surface painted.

At the end of the day, every egg has the same contents, since we all have equal access to knowledge and assuming no single person is so absolutely brilliant enough to come out with something substantially different from the rest. So it boils down to how you’re painted. Painted in 2 ways – Explicit, by the design and formatting of your report or powerpoint or what not; and Implicit, by the readability of your language.

I learnt that however substantial your content is, until people feel attracted to actually read it and can truly understand it, your work is worthless. It’s like, a kind and intelligent girl with less than perfect looks in a beauty pageant – Out in the first round.

Yet I wonder, is being a sponge or an easter egg better?

Beautiful day

It was raining a little when I left school today after CT. Dark, and a little cold. I had to walk to the National Library to return some books for my sister. Plugged in the earphones with some Eason songs. The first one on the album was this Lonely Christmas song. And immediately, I felt as though I was in Hong Kong. That time when I was there during Christmas; walking along the streets while the radio played the Lonely Christmas song.

Holiday mood came too soon.

Crossed the road at CHIJMES and walked past the Carlton Hotel. Beautiful buildings, roadside café – I love the city campus. This relaxing holiday mood, with the cool splatter of light rain on the face slowed down my steps and turned up my senses. How many times have I taken this route? But often walking too fast to notice. The Admin Building has nice pink and yellow coloured glass windows on the side. (Or is it newly added?)

For a while, I felt as though I was no longer in Singapore. Maybe because I couldn’t hear the all too familiar sounds of traffic, was too busy looking at the buildings to notice the cars on the road, and the pavement on the ground level of Carlton Hotel is a lovely dark granite, with thick shrubs separating the pavement from the road. I completely enjoyed the walk, savouring the time alone and relaxed, with the beautiful environment and slow crooning Eason songs. At that moment, I thought I could walk all the way home.

But of course, reality is rarely kind. Was feeling all so serene and romantic, when the practicalities hit me… as I stepped into a puddle on the road.

My feet gathered dust while walking in the concourse barefooted doing the CT and that dust mixed with water from the puddle was enough to cause this ultra slippery mixture that made wearing the slippers and walking almost impossible. Each step was forcing my feet to leave my slippers, or for the catch in the slipper to slip into the wrong gap between my toes.

And by Murphy’s Law, it had to happen while I was crossing the road. I wonder however will I be able to run if a car comes my way. I clumsily waddled all the way into the national library while balancing my umbrella, dropped the books and headed for the toilet to dry my feet.

Things do not end with dry feet though. I came out of my cubicle and tried washing my hands at one of those high-tech sensor taps. The only problem was that technology often fails, and it had to be the one I was using. I started doubting myself, thinking that I may be too futuristic for this tap, so I tried twisting, pulling and pushing whatever articulation I see on the tap, hoping that’s the switch. At that moment, this geeky primary school kid in a pinafore walked to the tap beside mine and with a slight flick of her hand, easily activated the sensor. Seeing how she worked magic with technology, I gave up on my tap and moved on to another, finally managing to activate the sensor. But the girl stared right at me like I was some kind of idiot. Stare what stare? I bet I’ve worked ten million more taps than you in my lifetime!

(By the way, there’s this toilet somewhere where the switch for the tap is on the floor for you to step on, so next time you can’t find it, try the floor.)

The worse was not over though. When I went out of the library, the drizzle had turned into a downpour. I walked into more puddles and waddled further, wetting half my jeans by the time I reached the bus stop.

I like it when it rains. But the good feelings for rain don’t stay long.

Yet I still hope it rains.