This past weekend has got to be one of the more disorienting weekends of the year, and I have had plenty. Amidst the tragedies and atrocities that are destroying the communities in Palestine (of which there are unfortunately many devastating accounts on—please Google them to know more), in my own world, a few major changes have taken place all in the duration of a few days.
I got to know that I'm not allowed to visit my home institution Tan Tock Seng Hospital indefinitely, which bars me from working on some of the projects I had requested to be a part of while I'm posted to the National Skin Centre. I also found out that my colleague, with whom I share the small space of an office room, played soccer with his friend who was recently tested positive for the virus. I also found out, while I was on leave, that all Work in Office arrangements are to change. And I was told that my Reporting Officer (another term for my boss, really) has tendered her resignation, so I have no RO and all the projects and initiatives I had discussed with her are all in limbo. All this, and more.
I have been meaning to illustrate more, but I feel more frustration than the familiar calm or assurance. I feel frustrated that my illustration doesn't seem to get better, and the images in my head do not at all translate to what's on my digital paper. I also try to read, but my attention span has undoubtedly been affected by my incessant use of social media, especially with the recent events around the world and my world.
I was also taken by such a huge surprise to find out that it's already 16 May 2021. That's two full years since my return from what remains as one of the best periods of my life. And almost one year since I got married, and started formally joining the workforce.
Somehow, time seems to be... teleporting. Into a future that is disorienting and moves too fast for me to catch. I say teleporting because it doesn't feel linear. Sometimes, I feel like I'm caught in the past, because of certain incidents or memories. And yes, while I am progressing from one point to another, rather than a simple line, I feel like I move forward in zigzags, or turbulent waves. And before I realise I reach one point, I'm brought to either one extreme high or another unexpected low.
I try to focus on what's here. I have Mu'az with me, and I can never not be thankful for that. He takes care of me very well and he contributes to the frequency of my happiness. I also still have my parents, and I'm thankful that we still live together (perhaps I will write a post on that in the future—living with my parents even after marriage).
I too recognise that I have my voice, still. But while that is still intact, because time teleports so much and so fast and I'm moving in waves, I often feel paralysed. I had to force myself to get all the words of this post out. I am paralysed. There are so many things I want to write and create, but I get stuck—no, I make myself stuck. It's strange.
Can I escape this teleporting timeline, somehow?
Earlier today, my team had a meeting with NTU profs and I haven't felt so fulfilled at work in a long time. It lent me the drive that pushed me throughout the day. We were discussing the potential of having initiatives grounded on the study of the Medical Humanities, and a lot of exciting projects were discussed.
I say this a lot, and I mean it more every time: I miss school. And I miss studying literature. There are so many reasons why. Of all the reasons, one that keeps coming up recently is how school and studying literature allowed me the capability and capacity to explore without fear. There is no need to fear being wrong, or fear missing Key Performance Indicators (KPIs) that will compromise your work. My experience studying literature was built on going beyond the norm, extending possibilities, and illuminating the various pressing issues around us. There isn't supposed to be much fear because the unknown is what we look for. It may sound very iffy and groundless to many, but such a space was where I was most comfortable. They say you don't grow in your comfort zone, but after being outside of it for a long while, I yearn for the solace and calm it brings me. This space, with all its challenges and questions, was where I felt like I grew best. I miss school, and I miss studying literature.
I am therefore thankful for any opportunity that allows me to bring such familiar comfort to the space I professionally occupy right now. Where I work isn't exactly cold, but it can be great to have more warmth.
Looking forward to seeing how this collaboration grows.
