Therapy?

The world is not made a better place for conformists, is it? By default we do like to fall in line and do as the peasants do. The moment a non-conformist comes by, all Robert Frost spewing, road less travelling, revisionist-revolusionist thinking… he or she must be judged, and the opinions that might befall said revolusionist ranges from "breath of fresh air" to "weirdo". Non-conformity is a roll of the dice. Even though legends and folklore have always made mention of the small man who desired a big change, many of us are content with listening to the legend instead of wanting to become one. Does fortune favour the bold? Only sometimes.

Look at today’s cut-throat stereotypes. Everyone is a pigeon waiting to be pigeonholed, so why not find the biggest pigeonhole there is? In Kindergarten if everyone had a Transformer and you had a Hot Wheels, say hello to spending recess alone. In school if you spoke uncool Mandarin while everyone else spoke cool Cantonese, you must be a prefect with something stuck up your ass. If you dress all in black with black eyeliner, that’s it, you’re either goth or emo. Or Avril Lavigne. And in the workplace the moment you show up in hot pink pants… you’re gay.

Except for the last one (well guys who dress in hot pink DO ask for it), all the examples above were things I saw in real life, growing up.

Before this becomes a heavyhanded subject that spirals beyond my control, I’ll tell you where all this started from. A stack of unused pens at home. Specifically, a large stack of unused pens, in a box, all from pharmaceutical companies, given free to my dad while he was practising by eagerbeaver sales reps. Glaxo, Hovid, Pfizer… you name it, I have the pen in the box.

But all the pens have since dried up/died up from disuse in the box which would (morbidly) become their coffin. Most of those pens were meant for me to be used in school, since dad used a Parker anyway. But I never did pick any of them from the box… I would much prefer Kilometricos bought from Popular Bookstore rather than allude people to the fact that I wanted to become a doctor even when I was struggling with bloody additional maths in Form 4. I was a conformist then… because I thought using a pen from Glaxo was committing social suicide.

Now a month ago, funnily enough, Vijay, a heng dai (or brotha which he prefers) for life, broke my pen, and pledged to replace it. And I caught myself saying to him "hey make sure its the free ones from a drug company." Funny thing is now, in a medical school setting, using a free pen is cool. If you bought your Popular pen it just means you are not well-connected enough to get a cool freebie with a drug name plastered across it. And in the irony of ironies… I’m still a damned conformist. At least… slowly but surely, I am becoming my dad.

This post is dedicated to people who seek change, and are not afraid to voice out their dissatisfaction even if they subject themselves to judgment and potential ridicule. All the Lincolns and Gandhis and Lennons started out this way, and now they are legends in their own time. Two names pop up immediately. First my gynaecologist guru Dato’ Sivalingam, who is convinced that there is "something wrong with the system", and who I have all the respect in the world for. Second, for a certain junior from high school now residing in Canberra, Sylvia Yip… a woman whose young age belies a maturity well beyond her years, and a regular contributor to the Star letters column. I always look forward to whatever you write, and my God you write a lot! Please read her blog, I’ve added the link already.

And Vijay, bloody hell, you still owe me a pen.