Community of Convenience

I've struggled with this post in various forms over the last several months, to tell the truth. Each time I've held back on pressing the post button, as something sounded too harsh, too world-weary. Too... honest. But tonight, it feels right. Like I've had a change in perspective. Or maybe I'm just not giving as much of a crap as I normally do. A bit of honesty can be a relief, but also a dangerous thing. Regardless, tonight I am going to write about the Blog Roll's topic of 'community', and tonight I'm going to press that post button and forget about it...


Singapore definitely has had a major impact on my life. Being in a different place, with different people, different problems, it gives you excellent perspective on your life. For pretty much the entire start of the year, I was fretting about what I was doing with my life. That I hadn't done anything with my life, especially in this year. When you're stressed, it consumes your life. Having such a major experience away really did calm me. Not only did it tick the box of having a worth-while experience this year, but it gave me a break from the stresses back in New Zealand. This in turn, has allowed so many more emotions and new ideas to enter, and really helped me start to get my life back on track.

This new-found perspective has really helped me examine parts of my life. What do they mean? Are they important? Which brings me to my thoughts on "community". As I mentioned, I've dabbled around it previously, but have never felt right about what I've had to say. Now I can look at it for what it is, and without struggling against it, I can finally call it as I see it.

"From Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia - Community usually refers to a social unit larger than a small village that shares common values. A community is a group or society, helping each other."

I'm going to come straight out and say it: I'm not part of any community, nor have I truly been part of a community, ever in my life, for very long. Sure, I belong to my city's community in the first sense of the term. Feeling a part of a group or society who is there for you, however - belonging - now that is a concept that is still estranged from me.

I believe we as a people, are a community of convenience. A lot of this ties back into my post about how we know we really love someone, which if you haven't read, you should, as it explains a lot about my views on what caring actually is. When things get hard, who really is left standing around to have your back? To be there for you? I know I'm bitter, but community means one thing for me: isolation.

You know that saying? You can feel most alone when surrounded by many people? That's how I feel. Being in a community for me is a chance for a "social unit larger than a small village" to consistently let me down.

I've not hid the fact from most people that I've not had an easy past few years. Heck, how am I special though? I know lots of people, friends, relatives, who are going through the exact same thing. It's called life. Quite often it sucks. Sometimes you get driven off-road. Sometimes your car then breaks down off said off-road. And sometimes you then get struck by lightning while trying to change the tires. Life is hard. Having someone there for you, who knows just how much life sucks is what community is all about. I know it may sound a bit boastful, but I'd like to think that every time someone has needed me, even if they didn't know it, I've been there for them. I had a friend commit suicide when I was younger. It really hit me for six, and I've never felt a bigger sense of regret in my life. That thought I maybe could've done something. If only I'd said something. If only they knew I was there for them. Whenever someone is down, whether I know them well or not, I always tell them I'm there to listen. It's not just the big things though; I turn up to your parties, not just because I like you, but because I know how it hurts having no one turn up. I reply to your texts and say hello to you when I see you because I know how it feels to be ignored and unimportant.

That's how it should be. That's my idea of community. Helping each other. Wikipedia agrees with me (and I swear I didn't edit it just to prove my point haha). Not just when it suits you, but often when it doesn't suit you at all. Often however, I feel like I'm a community of one. Once upon a time, I used to go to church. I used to be in a tight-knit group of people who would meet up each week, quite often more frequently. You'd probably call it a community. Every birthday, I used to go out and buy a $20 gift for that person. Something they'd enjoy. I'd help out decorating cakes for them. Not for praise, but because I wanted to show them how much they meant to me. For my birthday, I had a family emergency. I was probably the lowest I've ever been in my life. I tried reaching out to the people I'd think would understand the most. For my birthday, I got told they were too busy. For my birthday, my community let me down. Someone I hardly knew on Facebook was the only person who showed they cared.

I wouldn't say I'm part of any particular community now. If I had to pick something, I'd say my friends were the closest thing I have to feeling that sense of community. And even then, I feel just as isolated at times as if I were alone. Now I'm not going to get into the debate of online interaction versus real life, human contact, but when you're feeling alone, Facebook and social media can be such a degrading experience. A community at your finger tips, and still, you're no closer to that sense of true belonging you desperately crave than ever. I've lost count of the number of times I've asked people if they want to catch up. To be a part of my community. I feel like a fisherman, sitting on a pier, with lines dangling over the edge. You see a little nibble, and you wind the line in, only to find the fish have eaten your bait, and you're still no closer to anything meaningful, and you begin to wonder why you even bother with such an empty pastime. Only, the fish don't know any better. They're just hungry. Friends on the other hand...

It's been so long since I've had any meaningful contact with most of my friends, that I've begun to become far more introverted and I wonder whether you can call them friends at all, outside of that little plus avatar symbol on Facebook. You see parties you're not invited to. Fun that was had without you. It's all another person. It's an updated account of isolation and a painful reminder of how far a community can actually be from its true definition.

Which brings me back to my belief that communities are those of convenience. When people need me, I'm there for them. I've stayed up until all hours helping people with their problems. Done things not at all in my interests. And yet whenever I turn around, to see who has my back, I see people asking how long it will take, or telling me this week isn't a good time. Or the next week. Or the next... I know others feel the same way. That's not community. That's a 'me' society. And that's why I honestly believe I've never been in a community in my life. As terrible as it sounds, the word means nothing to me. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I dislike the definition. It's a lie people tell themselves to shelter them from the cold truth that most of the people in your life aren't going to be there for you. To me it means isolation. Hurt. Being let down. No, I'd much rather stick to being a community of one. Where I help people, but I don't have that expectation I'm going to be cared for when I'm low, or that people will treat me as I treat them, or even at least return the affection I feel for them. It's hard writing down what a callous person I guess you could say I am in some respects, but 'community' is what it is, and I'm not mad or angry. I can't change it any more than I can change the weather. I can recycle and turn of lights to help reduce climate change, but in the end, I'm just one person and it's not up to me. But saying we're part of a community is false, when in my experiences, the people around me have acted far from what it truly is. Let's call it a biosphere and leave it at that.

And with that, I press the post button, much too glad I got all that out of my system. I can now delete the other several draft of this topic I have clogged up my blog list.

Wanderin' Perspective: A Singapore Trip

My parents think I'm mad, maybe a little strange sometimes; I'll be on the living room couch after a long day, (usually in a dishevelled state from a hard game of frisbee) in that peculiar state where you're tired enough to fall asleep where you sit, but also so tired that your legs are too lazy to carry you upstairs to your comfortable bed. Instead, they vehemently persuade you that the couch, perhaps a foot too small, and a bung spring less comfortable, is a far better place to crash for the night. The television is blaring, but the power remote is oh so far away... I'll just close my... eyes...

And yet, through your drooping eyelids, you can still see the flashing antics of E! News or reruns of Friends. Argh! If only there was a place I could get some peace and darkness! Committed to making my night's sleep as unaccommodating as possible, I push through the discomfort and try to sleep in the last place I probably should be sleeping, on account of the numerous times I've awoken from that couch with a sore neck or bruised back. The last obstacle in the way is that darn tv! Parents are asleep. Getting up to fetch the remote would surely result in my cognitive arousal. Fumbling in the darkness under the accursed couch, I find something - the Sky remote!

Now I could switch it off. Mute it. For some reason, I never do any of those things. If I had any sense, I'd have just walked 30 seconds up the stairs to bed in the first place. No. I always find myself turning to one channel. Real Good Life TV. Up in the stratosphere on Sky channels, I'm sure no one watches it. You see, it's a radio station. Just a black screen and voices coming out. However, it's a Chinese radio station. I don't understand a lick of what they're saying, and I'm not sure if I want to. There's just something easing about listening to some far away place, some distant culture. Something different. They have their own thoughts, their own dreams and problems. Your mind tries to fill them in. An effective wall of pleasant white noise.

So my parents will often walk in on me at 5am, 6am, sometimes if I get that pesky middle spring to rest juust right, maybe even 7am, with the television blaring Cantonese radio, me fast asleep.


That's how I felt walking around Singapore the first night of my stay there. It was as if I was alseep and awake, all at the same time. I felt like I was just a mere visitor, a spectre, walking amongst the people there, observing and invisible. Back home, I understand what's going on. I'm the centre of the universe. Nothing is foreign. But here, stepping out into the dimly-lit streets and smelling the burnt offerings for the Day of the Dead, it was exactly as if I was back on that couch.

I stayed in Singapore for ten days. Without question, Singapore is a strange place. Everything is warped there, most certainly, units of scale. A "long way" was a 10 minute walk in one direction. An expensive taxi fare was anything over $10. In New Zealand, you're lucky if you can go around the block on that, let alone a half-city crawl as it was in Singapore. And yet a cheaper abode in Singapore would be in the $400-500K range.

In that sense, and many others, traveling does give you a rare perspective into not only the lives of others', but also your own. Foremost in my mind, was how grateful I was for everything back home. When taking a wrong turn can lead you to getting lost for more than a few hours, you learn to appreciate the staleness that you thought your life back home had become. The excitement and the full-nature of traveling is amazing, and something everyone ought to do at least many times in their life, but it must be said that simply coming home and finding your room, still as ever, with its familiar smells, feeling and sights, is something very satisfying, and those who have traveled will understand. It's not that you're overwhelmed by your experience, or that you disliked the impact of your wanderings, it's just something unwritten that fills you with peace, and you learn to appreciate that simply because something is not exciting, does not mean that it is any less "good" or "bad" than something that is.

I know I sound very philosophical, but you can't help be changed by such an adventure away. As with all experiences, even if they're meant just as fun, enjoyable encounters, they do have an impact on you. You brush by them, and they brush by you. Especially when you've traveled as little as I, you do come back with a new perspective on things and see the world around you in a new way. In that sense, your adventure has not ceased, but really, continued.

On the flight back, I got very misty-eyed over seeing my home's lights peaking through the clouds below. It's where everyone I've ever loved was met. It's where almost all of my best memories have been. And even though the ground shakes, the wind blows and bus drivers are grumpy, it's my own home. My trip to Singapore was the longest I've been away from my family, indeed, it's the first time I've even been out of the country on my own, so I'm not ashamed to say I missed them a lot. Sometimes it does take a while away from what's closest to you, to truly recognise just what they mean to you. And that's really what traveling does: it gives you an amazing perspective on what life is, abroad and at home. Sometimes it does take going halfway across the planet just to realize what you feel in your own heart.