On 2006

Honey and Clover, my favorite anime series, employs plenty of wheel imagery – the circularity much like the endless back and forth of its love triangles that seem never to come to a conclusion.

Reading Geoffrey’s retrospective on 2006, I felt it necessary to write my own, as if I must articulate to myself the lessons it taught me in order to truly internalize them, now that the wheel of time has come full circle.

At the beginning of the year I was still in the army. They say that serving in the military turns boys into men. Yet in so many ways it was like being frozen in time, like a rat running in a wheel going nowhere fast. Geoffrey, Daniel, Shengquan, Vishal and I fought so hard against the bureaucracy to pursue our own projects, to go abroad for all our conferences and exchanges, to lead some semblance of a normal life. We could have accomplished so much more. I was never truly myself in the army, always pretending to be someone else entirely just so I could fit in the culture – they bitterly resented anyone who was going to university, let alone an ivy league school. The only times I could be myself were in the illicit hours of intellectual conversation with Chris on his monthly visit to the military library (my favorite hiding place, telling my officers I was ‘doing research’), or talking to Zaki (my only friend in camp) on the bus home. I bided my time, waiting for it to be over.

The wheel of time began to turn again once I was free of the army, and life started anew. I remember the evenings mixing cocktails and watching k-dramas at Daniel’s place, listening to jazz at Vishal’s parties, and the endless political discussions with Jiekai and Gabriel’s little dissident group at Wutien’s apartment. There was always this sense of time running out during our weekly gatherings, as it drew nearer to the day when we would have to part ways: most going East, some flying West. We prepared for the inevitable goodbye in different ways: Geoffrey and I went on the same tour of the city every time our friends from abroad came to visit, the same ferry rides down the river, the same touristy destinations like little India, Sentosa and the night safari – but it was never boring, not only because it was with friends, but also because we knew that it would be the last time we would see Singapore in a long while.

Having lost two years of my life, I was in a hurry to make up for lost time, and unlike my other friends who went traveling across Europe or Asia on their soul-searching journeys (that’s you Nicol, Matt), I chose to get a head start on the corporate rat race with a consulting firm, which was certainly a whole new experience: the endless days of 10-K reports, Excel spreadsheets and PowerPoint slides, the crazy lunch-hour rush to get seats at the financial district food courts, and the long bus rides home with Chris who worked at the law firm across the street. Though I got a lot out of the internship in terms of experience, networks and skills, I missed out on one of the last opportunities to enjoy what remains of my youth and grow as a person. Perhaps I should have had the courage to leave the material world behind on a quest to find out what I truly want out of life.

And then I came to Columbia, where I am living the long-awaited dream, surrounded by opportunities and free to pursue them. The wheel of time accelerated – my days are always so eventful that my problem is choosing which activity to go for. In my first semester, I’ve shook hands with a Burmese rebel leader, listened to Vaclav Havel talk about democracy, sat through a seminar on ‘manliness’ (worst talk ever), argued with a ‘Beyondist’, seen a microfinance presentation on the top floor of Deutsche Bank, got lost in Harlem trying to apply for an SSN, got completely soaked at the Macy’s parade, ice-skated (or at least tried to) at Bryant Park, doused flaming cheese with lemons at Symposium, had tequila shots in the library, seen an off-off-Broadway musical entirely in Korean, shopped from midnight to dawn at Woodbury Common’s post-thanksgiving sale, crooned Jay Chou karaoke with the bankers, won the ticket lottery for a musical, and stayed up all night in a broadcast studio just listening to jazz with a DJ. Getting into Columbia was the best thing that ever happened to me, and every day I am thankful that I chose to come here instead of where Geoffrey goes to.

For 2007 I am resolved to live life to the fullest. My plans in terms of academic work and career aspirations have not changed since they were drawn out a while ago: get a research assistant job and start working on a long-term project, forge relationships with key mentors, fill the summer with travel, internships and summer programs, and prepare for the fall recruiting season. Yet these are only one aspect of my goals in life. My resolution for 2007 is therefore to not allow my schooling to get in the way of my real education, and better balance my work priorities with developing all the other aspects of the ideal man I want to be. To be thankful for all that I have, to find more time in my life for God, to strive every day to become a better person. This will present a whole different set of challenges: How do I become more caring, more generous, more optimistic? How do I stop myself from being caught up in the whole investment banking/strategy consulting tournament? How do I break past the limits of my comfort zone and be more open to new experiences? One key problem is that these goals are not easy to quantify and measure, so it’s difficult to gauge my progress, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. I want 2007 to be a year of accomplishment and achievement, not only on a professional but also a personal level, and I am determined to make it happen. The wheel of time is going ever forward, and I with it. There is no turning back.