... Everything is Permitted?

“Nothing is true; everything is permitted.”

Those are the words of the Assassin Order, a fictional organization from Ubisoft’s successful Assassin’s Creed franchise. For the layman, the Assassins are a group of individuals engaged in an ideological and physical war with a rival group called the Templars. The struggle stems from the two groups’ contrasting beliefs: the Assassins believe in the free will of man, whereas the Templars believe in a man-made utopia created from control and man-imposed order.

Even at first glance, it’s easy to tell that the Assassins are the designated protagonists of this struggle: fighting for a world free from oppression and tyranny. The games themselves enforce this assignment of roles by portraying the Templars as corrupt and power-hungry, more motivated by selfish greed than the desire for order. For example: the Templar Rodrigo Borgia, the primary antagonist of Assassin’s Creed II and its spin-off/expansion, Brotherhood. Borgia is portrayed as a scheming, despicable individual, using lies, coercion and murder in pursuit of his goals. He exploits his position in the Templar Order to improve his own financial and political standing, eventually gaining enough leverage to become the Pope*!

[*One key characteristic of the Assassin’s Creed series is its co-opting of actual historic figures in its storylines; such figures are often embellished for that purpose, and are rarely (if at all) portrayed accurately in terms of character and personality. Rodrigo Borgia, an actual Pope during the Italian Renaissance, is one such figure.]

On the other hand, the Assassins are primarily portrayed with traditionally heroic traits and backgrounds. Ezio Auditore da Firenze (the protagonist of AC II and its spin-offs) is the righteous survivor of a betrayal that left most of his family dead, seeking justice against those responsible. Connor Kenway (from AC III) is the defender of his Native American people, against the encroachment of British (and later American) settlers on their ancestral land. To be fair, there are exceptions to this rule: Altair Ibn-Lahad (from the first game) is initially arrogant, self-absorbed and reckless, and Edward Kenway (from the most recent Assassin’s Creed IV) is greedy and materialistic. However, those characters eventually realize the errors of their ways and achieve redemption through their actions. The same cannot be said of the Templar characters.

In my opinion, that has resulted in a dull, one-dimensional narrative that has so far failed to capitalize on the promising main conflict of the series. The ideological conflict between the Templars and Assassins is a very intriguing one: which is more precious? Is it free will? Or is it order?

A bystander (perhaps even you) might ask, is it impossible to have both? An optimist would answer in the affirmative, but I beg to differ. From my personal experience, freedom will almost always result in chaos.

My reason for that is simple: man simply cannot always be trusted to regulate his own actions. Left to his own devices, man will follow what he wants. Morality, faith and laws may give him pause, but they are far from perfect as deterrents to undesirable behavior. We can see that in the events around us, from the mundane (thievery, reckless driving) to the more exotic (murder, rape). Crime, misdemeanor… they stem not (as people would have you believe) from the lack of education, the corrupting influence of the media, the failing morality of the increasing self-centered capitalistic society, etcetera, etcetera, but from free will: the ability to do what you desire, no matter how harmful or disruptive.

Man cannot always be trusted to regulate his actions. We are slaves to our desires, wanderers in a wasteland where the only sustenance is the flesh and blood of our companions. A morbid metaphor, but an apt one:  the people around us are almost always victims of our desires, sacrificed so that we may have our satisfaction.

Last year, I was plagued by bass noise from a next-door neighbour’s sound system. Eventually, I approached the proper authority and lodged a formal complaint. That problem has (so far) ceased to exist. I do not mention this to further antagonize anyone, or to reopen old wounds. The purpose is to introduce an authentic example in which I have observed my argument in practice. Both the actions of my neighbor and I were motivated by personal wants: his was the want of listening to music, while mine was to have my rightful peace in my own residence. Arguably, I was in “the right”, being the “victim” in this situation. And yet, because of my complaint, he received a warning and can no longer listen to music as he used to. Now, the tables have turned, with him as my victim, being denied what should be a right. And so the conflict continues, without a satisfying resolution (which I doubt exists).

And that, patient reader, brings us to the crux of my argument: free will is chaos, because man is compelled by desire, and is therefore selfish. How can there be order, when every man and woman is competing for what they believe is their due? How can there be peace, when one man’s belief is another’s taboo? Whether we admit it or not, we are locked in mutual conflict, desperate to advance our own goals, like drowning sailors pushing and tugging, biting and scratching to be the one who gets the next breath of air.

Still. What is the alternative? Order is desirable, but how can it be achieved without sacrificing free will? How can quarreling cousins come to an accord, without either side having to concede their stand? I have no answers to that question. Evidently, neither do the professional writers employed on the creative teams behind the Assassin’s Creed franchise, or else they might have portrayed the Templars in more positive and nuanced manner.

With that, I conclude this piece of written thought in the most abrupt and unsatisfying of ways: unresolved. Thank you for indulging me and my rambling thoughts. I hope they at least provoked some thinking on the matter.

Staging Macbeth: A Reflection

Okay. So I'm back. After 2 whole months. I don't really have anything noteworthy to say, so here's my reflection for Macbeth to keep busy while I come up with something interesting to post:

“Macbeth is said to have been written some four hundred years ago, in 1607. Since then, it has been enacted countless times by actors and actresses beyond count, most of whom were professionally trained and well-versed in the art of stagecraft. So imagine my reaction when I was told that my Unit has to produce a full version of the play, together with our friends from K11.

Staging one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays without proper knowledge of stagecraft is already a challenge. But what worried me was having to work with members of another unit, whom I had rarely spoken to in the past before we had to share classrooms for the current semester. But surprisingly, fortunately and almost miraculously, we pulled through. And I discovered that I was wrong to ever doubt we would work well together.

After being briefed on the details of this assignment, we had our first meeting on the 22^nd of February, to elect a leader (or director) and to divide the work that will go into making our production of Macbeth a success. We decided to have Lydrielyn Koh from K11 and Lee Kaw Siang from my own unit, K10 to be our director and co-director respectively. It was the first good decision we made, in my opinion. Koh and Lee quickly took charge and soon we had several working committees set up, each responsible for a facet of the production. Having a relatively good command in the language, I volunteered to be in the Scriptwriting Committee, responsible for modifying Shakespeare’s Olde English script to better suit a modern audience. Working in tandem with me was Eugene Wong, who was responsible for the conversion of the text in Acts 1, 2 and 3, while I worked on Acts 4 and 5.

I started work on my end during the March holidays, working in the comfort of my room back home. What I had anticipated to be a simple task of swapping out archaic words for modern ones quickly turned out to be more challenging than expected. I discovered that some words, long discontinued from use since Shakespeare’s time, were crucial to retaining the original meaning and flavor of the text. To change them would be like to take out a small but vital gear out of a machine; the meaning of the text would be lost. Another problem was Shakespeare’s application of imagery and metaphors: some are long and elaborate verses, while others are simple but effective phrases. While beautifully written and stirring, they felt out of place in my revised, modern-language version of the script. Yet I was reluctant to change or omit them, because to me, they are the magical components that make Shakespearean literature so unique. So I was caught in a difficult dilemma: do I sacrifice what has made Shakespeare such an endearing read to scholars around the world for the purpose of a simpler, more audience-friendly script, or should I preserve Shakespeare’s unique flavor and risk leaving the audience dumbfounded by the archaic language? To borrow (and blatantly bastardize) the most well-known line from another Shakespearean great: “To cut or not to cut?”

In the end, I settled for the best of both worlds: to preserve the original meaning of the text, while presenting them in modern English instead of Shakespeare’s Olde English. The process was grueling work, as every word I chose to take, together with the words that I used to replace them with, might potentially twist the intended message of the text, thus making my work inconsequential. I consulted websites with modern-day translations of the text and cross-checked my work with their versions of the text, debating with myself the best choice of diction. It was frustrating work, and I was tempted to take down whatever I find on the websites and to claim them as my own work. But I realized that to do so would be tantamount to committing academic suicide: plagiarizing is akin to signing one’s own death sentence, as my lecturers have drilled into me again and again. So I forced down my festering resentment for Shakespeare and his long-winded, flowery language and slogged on. Needless to say, my relief was immense when I finally hammered in the last nail into that particular coffin. Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived, as I discovered upon returning to class after the holidays and comparing my Acts with Eugene (Wong)’s.

In contrast to his concise and simple revisions of the script, mine was long-winded and dragging. I was so focused on preserving the original meaning of the text that I had fallen into the same trap that I set out to avoid: a long and unnecessarily tedious script that dragged the length of the play into an unacceptable length. We were given only two hours to perform the play, and my script simply could not fit into that limited time. Without question, further revisions had to be made. Unfortunately, the plan was to start rehearsals after the holidays, and without a proper script, rehearsals could not be held. I had to hurry or risk delaying the entire production. With a heavy heart and a crippling weariness for Macbeth, I started work once again, this time making immense, drastic changes to the script. Act 5 was completely transformed into a more fast-paced, action-oriented piece than Shakespeare originally intended. In my version, the scenes where Menteith, Caithness and the other Scottish nobles converge to meet with the English army were removed, because I felt they added little to the overall story and could be cut with minimal impact to the story. In addition, Malcolm, Macduff and Siward’s meetings before the final battle at Dunsinane were revised and amalgamated into the original Scene where Macbeth recites “Life’s Brief Candle”. The intention is to create a better flow of the action, with Macbeth lamenting the death of his wife (the pen-ultimate loss of his life) before meeting his end at the hands of Macduff. The double tragedy (Lady Macbeth’s death and Macbeth’s own defeat) was intended to highlight how evil must ultimately pay its price. While it was a hurried, frenzied effort, I still found it to be satisfying. In the end, I was fortunate enough to have the script ready for inspection by my lecturers before the rehearsals were scheduled to begin. My work was, thankfully, done.

But while it was mostly serviceable, there was a part of the end-result that I personally felt to be disappointing and weak. There is a Scene in Act 4 where Malcolm and Macduff convene in England that, in my opinion, took too long. Its significance to the play is to underline Macduff’s loyalty to the true heir of Scotland, Malcolm, but its length and tedious language made it distractingly dull. The cast and crew even took to calling it “the Boring Scene”, and though I am fairly certain they did not say it as an insult or a mockery of the Scriptwriting Committee, I still found it to be a personal failure. I should have done a better job reviewing my work, but too much effort went into making Act 5 better that I neglected the equally important (if less climatic) Act 4. It is a lesson I will carry for some time: to always look at the bigger picture instead of the little details.

Also, in hindsight, the process of converting the script could have been easier had I worked more closely with my partner. We should not have delayed it until the holidays, and instead should have started work together in late February. Two heads are better than one, and the chances are we could have produced a more cohesive script in terms of tone and language had we worked side by side and compared our work between Scenes. While it is admittedly too late for regrets, the silver lining of this particular cloud is that I can always use this experience to better work with others in the future.

With the script ready, we could finally start rehearsing. Even before the script had been prepared, we had already decided on the cast of the play. I was to play Macbeth, the titular character. Thinking back, the best word I can use to describe my feelings at being chosen for that role would be “conflicted”. There was something glorious about being picked for the main role. I was not, and still am not, sure what appealed to me more at the time: that my lecturers and directors had faith enough in me to let me carry that role, or that I will be the centre of attention during our actual performance. Both thoughts were equally uplifting and terrifying. I was proud to be Macbeth, proud to carry the main role. But I was also aware of the heavy responsibilities that came with it. My performance would make or break the play; I had to convince the audience that I am an honorable general turned evil and brought down by his own greed… but how? My previous acting experience was limited to two dramas during my Secondary School years and a role as the Beast in our class’ production of Beauty and the Beast for the TESL Night earlier this year. Compared to Macbeth, those parts were like tiny stars in the sky, insignificant beside Macbeth’s shining full moon. But despite the pressure to perform, I welcomed the role. I believe that my lecturers and friends’ trust in me to be Macbeth somehow gave me conviction and confidence in myself. They did not openly praise my performance during our rehearsals, but I think praises were unnecessary then. They had already shown their belief in me, and that was driving force enough. Oddly, I did not realize that until this very moment, writing this.

Of course, preparing for the role was not exactly an easy stroll in the park. I had little problem in memorizing the script, as it was in simple English and was easier to commit to memory than it would have been had it been in original Shakespeare. It was emoting my lines that I found to be a constant obstacle during our rehearsals. Macbeth is a heavily conflicted character, prone to excessive and extreme mood swings throughout the play. And of course, there is his metamorphosis from loyal servant to bloody tyrant to take into consideration. All those changes in mood challenged my abilities to the limit; they were exhausting physically and emotionally. I found it hard to express Macbeth’s amazement and shock upon seeing the floating dagger in Act 2. It was even more difficult to portray him mortified reaction after seeing Banquo’s ghost in Act 3. I felt stiff and self-conscious during those scenes, and I was worried that my performance would cause the play to suffer. I was also frustrated at myself for being unable to strike the correct chord with my acting. I quickly grew weary of the rehearsals and dreaded those demanding scenes, growing quietly resentful at my directors, whom I unfairly saw as the cause of my discomfort. But I understood that I could not allow the strain to break me, and although I cannot claim to be the most happy camper during rehearsals, I think I can at least allow myself the concession that I was also not the worst behaving member of the cast. It was difficult, but I slowly adapted to the role, and I found myself being able to express my lines more effectively as time passed by. No doubt this was the result of the many rehearsals we have had. Practice makes perfect, as they say, and our directors made sure we had plenty of practice.

It is unfortunate how under-appreciated they are by the rest of the crew, me included. If it was hard for me to act, it must have been equally taxing for them to have to manage the entire play, if not more. So what I can say I took away from the rehearsals is how no one is the centre of the universe; everyone has their own responsibilities, and while some may have it harder than others, that does not take away the fact that everyone contributes to the greater scheme of things in one way or another. I was not the only one toiling to make the play a success, nor was I the most pivotal figure in the production. In short, I learned humility. It was an unexpected lesson, one that I did not take to well initially. But I have come to accept that my own significance is perhaps not as huge or as vital as I had imagined.

Another hurdle that I had had to clear while preparing for the play was having to work with Bernadette Hyacinth Vincent, my “co-star” who played Macbeth’s wife, named (rather unimaginatively) Lady Macbeth. The problem did not lay with her; she was a pleasant friend to work with and rarely complained. But I found the close proximity we often had to work in to be uncomfortable. The reason for this is because I had spent my recent five years in an all-boys school, where I had limited contact with the female gender. To have to work with girls again, even after a semester here in the Institute, felt strange and alien. And if one has to be brutally honest, Bernadette’s good looks did not help to make it feel any less weird. Luckily, she was patient enough to allow me the chance to acclimatize to my role as her “husband”, and we were able to work rather well together after the initial awkwardness had faded away. If this experience has taught me anything, it would be the importance of staying objective and always having my sights set firmly on the proper goals.

As we neared the day of the play, I slowly began to warm more and more to my role. I loved Macbeth’s scene with the murderers, where he plots the murder of his friend Banquo. It allowed me to channel a menacing aura around myself that I found appealing, and I found myself likening that performance to that of actor Tom Hiddleston in the movie Thor, which I enjoyed very much. Drawing comparisons of my performance to other characters in other mediums not only helped me to act more effectively (as they provided models which I could mimic), but also made the entire process more interesting. Macbeth’s fall from grace and subsequent loss of sanity I likened to the character of Norman Osbourne (better known as Spiderman’s most famous foe, the Green Goblin) from Marvel Comics, whose rise to power and subsequent fall in the story arcs “Dark Reign” and “Siege” mirrors that of Macbeth. Relating my favorite characters from other works of fiction to Macbeth definitely gave the experience a breath of refreshing new air. Now that I had accepted my role completely, there was only one last obstacle barring the way to a perfect performance: my confidence on stage.

I know from my previous escapades on the stage that I am not entirely impervious to stage fright, and I must admit that the realization did plague me for some time before the performance. Luckily, my friends from the Costume and Makeup Committee swooped in for the rescue. The costume designer, my friend Atikah from K11, designed for me a simple outfit that nevertheless helped boost my confidence considerably. Her biggest triumph is the bright red cape that she had personally made, which I adored very much. Wearing it gave me an inexplicable boost in confidence; I was less fearful, more sure of my lines and gestures. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that the character Thor, from the movie of the same name, also wears a red cape as part of his costume. I would think of his unshakable confidence and might in battle as I wore the cape, and all my fears would dissolve like… “breath upon the wind”. Additionally, my friends Shadiqin and Belinda, also from K11, took it upon themselves to be my “personal makeup assistant”, styling my hair and applying my makeup before the play and during rehearsals. Everyone agreed that Shadiqin did a great job on my hair, and that somehow made me more confident to perform. I guess my Social Studies lecturer, Mr. Earnest, was right: looking good is half the battle won, although he would call it having “persona”. Still, it is odd how little gestures like adding a piece of costume and a new hairstyle can dramatically change my bearing and help raise my confidence up to new, previously unreached heights. But I am grateful for the help they rendered, and they have showed me yet again the importance of working as a team.

So with the script memorized, my acting perfected to the best level possible and my hair sticking up like the proud crest of a magnificent peacock, we came at last to the day of the play. Strangely enough, I was uncharacteristically serene throughout the day, although that may be on account of being in shock at the prospect of performing later that day. Still, I remembered my training, recalled every step I took to get there and brought it all to the stage. Of course, there were minor hiccups in the play: my friend Zulhelmi forgetting it was his scene caused panic to the entire cast onstage and shortened the years of my life considerably. But overall, we came, we performed and we conquered.

There is still so much more yet to be said about the production of our play: how Nita (Macduff) and I spent an entire afternoon and sacrificed a pair of pants (his) to choreograph and perfect the final, climatic end battle between Macbeth and Macduff, how hilarious the Makeup team’s first efforts on me looked, how we laughed and reveled in the success of our play... Every memory is priceless, though they may not always be pleasant.

Has the play had any significant effect on me? Yes. Will it drastically affect my future? Probably not. We may have been poor players that strutted and fretted our hours upon the stage, never to be heard of in the years to come, but was our tale one full of hollow sound and fury, that signified nothing?

Absolutely not.”

From Life to Eugene:

“ 难过，是因为闷了很久，
是因为想了太多，
是心理起了作用。

你说苦笑常常陪着你。
在一起有点勉强，
该不该现在休了我？

不想太多，
我想一定是我听错弄错搞错。
拜托，我想是你的脑袋有问题……”

I don't get you, Eugene. I don't get you at all. You have an easy life: you don't have to struggle through every lesson, desperately trying to understand what the lecturer is saying. Compared to those who do, you have it easy. So why are you not content?

Why do you mope and say that your life is without purpose, when your purpose is clear? You're here to study. Nothing else. There's your purpose. Don't deny it just because it doesn't appeal to you.

I know lessons bore you. You pick up on them quickly and with minimum effort, because they're mostly what you have already learned before. That's the reason you complain. The lack of a challenge makes you restless. You feel like you're wasting your time and your... "talents". You yearn for a challenge.

And yet, when it comes to assignments, you don't perform. You're perfectly willing to just produce an adequate piece of work, when you could have done something better had you put in more effort and enthusiasm. Living the easy life has only made you more lazy, it seems. You think just because something is beneath you, it's not worth your effort. And thanks to your ego, everything is beneath you, isn't it?

Stop this behavior. No purpose? No goal? No motivation? 拜托，我想是你的脑袋有问题…

A Thought.

I must have squandered away my enthusiasm in the first two days of class, because I just feel wretched today. But I don't have a reason to. Compared to other people, I really should count myself as lucky to be where I am now. But the "normalcy" (read: blandness) of IPG life just gets me down sometimes.

I guess that means I still haven't grown up much since my Primary School years.

Back in the day, I was an avid fan of Harry Potter. My friends from school didn't care much for the novels, though I'm sure they saw some of the movies. But I still didn't have anyone else to share my passion with but with myself. So I did. Secretly, without telling even my closest friends, I imagined that I was studying in Hogswarts, pretending my teachers to be those from the novels. I had a Science teacher that was almost exactly like Severus Snape: he was strict and uncompromising when it comes to schoolwork, but deep down he has a great heart. Of course, I didn't know that Snape was a good guy then ("The Order of the Phoenix" was still one year away at the time), so I drew the similarities between them based solely on how they seem to enjoy seeing their students squirm. :P

What I'm trying to say is that even then, all those years ago, I was letting my imagination live for me. I'd spend hours after school hours (my mum was the headmistress there and had meetings after school, so I had to stay back with her) exploring every nook and cranny in the school grounds. I knew about the hidden storeroom behind the Year 6 classrooms, a place filled with junks, antiques and trophies abandoned by who knows who ages ago. I've braved the "haunted" passageway behind the school hall (so called because it bordered a spooky-looking palm oil plantation) countless times, scurrying along it with my ears pricked for the faintest sounds of anything "unnatural". I spent afternoons combing the grounds for secret passageways, even though I knew there were none. I even interviewed my friends and seniors for anything "strange" or "out of the ordinary" that were worth investigating during my private scouting hours. The school grounds were a treasure trove filled with little details that piqued and stimulated my imagination, and I would explore every corner of it like Indiano Jones explores a lost Mayan temple.

By now it should be clear that even as a child (or maybe because I was a child), I refused to see the world for what it was. Reality was boring, and still is. My imaginations (or daydreams, honestly speaking) allowed me to escape to a place where possibilities were endless. In that time, and at that age, I suppose there was no harm to live in daydreams everyday. But sometimes, I wonder if I have truly left those daydreams behind when I left school, or am I still lost in them, trying in vain to find a way out?

There are times when I wonder about my worth in the world. Even if I were to one day disappear off the face of the earth, nothing would have changed. The world would move on, lives would continue. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm troubled by my own insignificance in the grand scheme of things that happen in the world, and I use those daydreams or delusions of grandeur to distract myself from the fact that I'm no more important than the next man.

Sometimes I envy the comic superheroes that I idolize. They have powers and abilities that make them stand out in a world full of 'normal' people. They could make a difference. Captain America is the idealistic warrior fighting the unjust and the corrupt. Tony Stark makes the world a better place with his Arc Reactor alternate energy source. Compared to them, I'm almost nothing. And that's a hard pill to swallow.

No, my point isn't that I'm envious of people that don't even exist. What I'm trying to say is that reality is harsh. Reality is unforgiving, and most importantly, reality doesn't give a s**t about what you want. I think that's what sent me on my Hogswarts fantasy all those years ago. It may even be why I have never really left those fantasies, despite what I tell myself. Dreams are always easier than life.

That's not a lament. It's even a complaint. It's a fact.

Zzz... =.=

Now, more than ever, Social Studies is becoming a lesson in boredom. And Language Development isn't the most fascinating subject either, and has never been. But I like Language Description. And English Studies.

The reason I enjoy those subjects is simply because they allow for more participation than the other two. English Studies is especially fun, because learning "Macbeth" is actually a very stimulating experience. There is so much going on between the lines, hidden messages secreted away to be found. Finding them is very rewarding. Maybe it's an ego thing: I feel happy because I see things that no one else in the class does. So I'm delusional as well as egotistical. Good to know.

Of course, just reading the text itself and appreciating the unique way Shakespeare wrote his lines is an enjoyment by itself. There's just this indescribable and inexplicable joy that comes from reading a particularly poetic line. It's like listening to a song with lyrics that you can really relate to. There is a connection that somehow makes the text more intimate and enjoyable.

Language Description, on the other hand, is fun because it's the most "intellectual" of my four Majors. There are just so many rules and nuances to grammar that mastering it becomes a challenge, albeit an interesting one. Like with E.S., there's something to be said about discovering a particularly well-hidden mistake that everyone makes without noticing. I think it's the joy of learning something new, a new... spin/take on what has already been established. Grammar is both fixed and in flux, and that makes learning it extra interesting, because you never know what is coming around the corner... (But it can still get boring sometimes... Tenses. Urgh. ^^)

I guess the point of this post would be to say that I'm enjoying my studies here. Nothing is too taxing, thanks to my history of using the language. It's been said before by my friends, and I agree with them that yes, I'm truly fortunate to have been streamed into the TESL unit.

Imagine if I had been sent to the Chinese unit. Or worse: Bahasa Melayu. That's a nightmare I would not wish on any English-speaking, B.M.-inept person. Except maybe Claire.