Toastmasters Speech 4: OCD

She was sitting next to me with a colouring template and a few harmless-looking colour pencils … which went on to make the squeakiest sounds imaginable. It felt like my brain was being sucked out with a straw. Ever since that day in kindergarten, I knew that there was something really off about me. 12 years later, I would take my A Level exams, but in a very specific way. You know how you would place your water bottles and pencil cases on the ground beside your table along the aisle? I begged the GP for a letter demanding that the 8 tables surrounding me Must have no “personal effects” left along the aisles that my all-powerful peripheral vision can reach. No neon water bottles, no pencil cases and ohh god forbid those neon yellow instruction sheets. I would DIE. They are so distracting and give me mini panic attacks.

Why are you so strange, Justine? (Does anyone know? Shout it out. Yes.) (Well, Obsessive compulsive disorder, OCD.) Today, I’m introducing to all of you, a friend and enemy of mine: OCD. OCD is about having irrational concerns that cause fear and worry that need repetitive behaviours to reduce such anxieties. I’ll first talk about my personal experiences with OCD and then how it shaped me as a person.

I’ve never been successful socially. I do hi-fives on the condition that they must come in an identical pair: you must do one each on both my hands with equal magnitude and coverage. One of the worst things you can do to me is to run away with one hi-five.

I’ve never been successful in my personal life. I can’t share earphones successfully, you know, you take one earbud and your friend or your romantic partner takes the other one. I need to switch it to the other ear every other minute because one ear is getting way too many decibels than the other one.

I’ve never been successful in the corporate world. I shake hands like a weirdo. After shaking, I have to secretly clutch my own hand and squeeze it to even out the coverage. It’s double disaster if the other hand has a vastly different temperature from mine.  The texture also matters. Strange liquids like post-bathroom residues also make me doubt.

As to the causes of my OCD, what else could it be other than growing up within the 4 walls of my house? The 4 walls which are compulsively maintained and cared for, kept spotless and shiny by my dad, even after two destructive kids. I was born into OCD. I had the same breakfast ever since I was 4. Milk with oats and nuts and bread. It was as if my dad were afraid that if we changed it a single bit, we’ll all contract scurvy. We’ve seen several milk companies get acquired and formulas tweaked and one or two bread products get taken off shelves. But our breakfast remains business as usual. Those were times for immense stress for my dad who had to go through days and nights of screening to single out the next best alternative.

I have been living with OCD throughout my life and have been you know… fine and oblivious towards it until this fateful night on a campsite. It was a school camp, the tough kind. I couldn’t sleep because I was busy frustrating over how I can hear the bugs but I can’t see them and imagining how they looked like based on bug documentaries that I saw. I kept tossing around in my sleeping bag. This woke my friend up. She sat up and armed herself with a torch. The torch shone Right into my left eye. Owww, can you imagine that? Piercing. A stunning beam of pure, white virture in the devilish abyss of the night. My friend noticed that and muttered a few sorries. But I immediately went, “Nicole, could you shine that into my right eye?” I knew there and then: I’m definitely not going to survive in a nuclear war. I wonder what will happen on the day I go: Owwww, you stabbed me on my right side, can you do the same on the left? Well, she had the right to be puzzled but she refused to do so until I tell her why. I told her about OCD. Next, she asked an intriguing question which I’ve never really considered before: Why don’t you seek help?

I pondered about that question. I realised that OCD is so much a part of me that I don’t see it as a separate ‘disorder’. OCD makes me an interesting person. It makes me look like an eccentric with a twisted sense of humour. It has in fact, shaped me as a person. Let me tell you how. It has made me a better person than it has for the worse. OCD is me. And I love me. That is why I’m so content to co-habitate with it. Or well, maybe I just have Stockholm’s syndrome.

OCD has mainly trained me to be sensitive, precise and observant. Highly so. But while I was sensitive and observant when interacting with people, I also wound up over-thinking and being over-sensitive which resulted in depression which I used to have. While I know every specific bone on a chicken from eating it—I can sketch it for you and was also pretty good in school at biology for the same reason, I was also obsessed about measuring my own body in my early teens, which led to eating problems.

But enough with the double-edged swords. I am really thankful for having OCD in my life. You should be too—or maybe not. It has made me the grammar Nazi that I am today, offensively offering my services. I am really sensitive to language due to OCD. My fear of failure also made me a rabid planner. I am also very careful to consider the good and bad sides when deciding. There is sometimes, a thin line, between a valid concern and an OCD. I wear ear plugs when I go to gigs or clubs or loud parties. I never use my ipod above volume 2 on earphones. I fear hearing loss, but it is definitely a valid concern. I want to listen to my music for a long, long time, not just for this moment.

To me, OCD is also the ‘disease’ of the loyal. We are really loyal people. It takes that much dedication to keep doing the same things over and over again. I cut oranges the same way since I first did as a kid. I always eat my burgers dissected: vegetables first, bread then meat.

Having this mental quirk also allows you to get away with things by claiming them as OCD. Trapped with someone you want to avoid? You can be like: I can’t speak, it is an odd-numbered day. Feeling stingy? You can go: Can I pay you a dollar less? I can’t come into contact with odd numbers.

But of course, OCD is still important to deal with when it gets serious—when it affects one’s basic day-to-day living. It is also a hazard when it sparks violent tendencies. I remember plotting death threats towards the kid during the squeaky pencil stint. Stirring an unsterilized spoon in her soup sounds like a good idea. Germs can killlll.

I’ll leave you with a concluding wisdom. You know about dishwashing liquids, antiseptic lotions that claim to kill 99.9% of germs? Remember one thing: the remaining 0.1% can kill a man. It’s not about the quantity of germs, but the quality. Be very afraid.

One last thing, this will annoy you for the rest of your day: Your breathing is now manual.

Toastmasters Speech 3: Get to the point?

My speech project is “Get to the point”. But have you ever paused to think.. What’s the point of getting to the point? Now, that is exactly my point.

I’m sure all of you have seen this diagram. Highly nostalgic, isn’t it. To get to the point is to go from A to B. The shortest distance, by way of the Pythagoras Theorem. Getting to the point is taking the same path to uni everyday—A B A B A B A, because it is the shortest route. Let’s just imagine this is Victoria Park. You’ll miss out on the pond, the ducks, the nice open grass, blue skies, couples making out—well, maybe you can afford to avoid that one. How boring and mechanical.

Getting to the point is for machines. We’re constantly thinking of how to optimize this kettle, this microwave, this computer, this software, constantly designing the machine in a way that it performs its operation in a shorter and shorter time. Beating around the bush is not only human but is what makes us human. What’s wrong with beating around the bush anyway? Hey, you get to look at the bush really closely (Write George on top of the bush). You may not win the race to the finishing line but you’ll beat them to the knowledge of the bush. That can be important knowledge for future races or can lead you to win another race altogether—one that scores you on your knowledge of the bush.

Early in Marie Curie’s career, she followed another researcher’s idea and was investigating the properties of uranium for a thesis. After many winding paths—including ascertaining the properties of an atom and experimenting with two other nuclear particles that she finally discovered radium and polonium from investigating uranium—a task that was related to her initial thesis. This was the work that she was most remembered for and won her second Nobel prize. To illustrate, Marie Curie was initially planning to go from A to B. Then she got distracted by an interesting bush at the side. She beat around it for a bit and then chased a butterfly over to another bush. She was entertained by it but never stayed longer than she needed. And scientific intuition gathered from the previous two bushes told her that she should go back to take a closer look at her first bush—which led her to her most important piece of work. That looked like a huge detour but if you were to think about it, it was the right path to follow because the lessons, knowledge and experiences gained from the previous experiments enlightened her future work. The goal to find the 2 new atoms did not exist at all initially—there was nothing to suggest that 2 new atoms existed. It was only through later experiments that shed light on that opportunity.

Getting to the point in the shortest time and distance may be the fastest and most efficient route—but is it the right one? Is speed and efficiency always the goal for us? Our current psychology is rife with the ‘myth of invisible questions’. And what do I mean by that? We think that in whatever we do, we are constantly judged by these invisible criteria set by societal norms. We feel that the questions are already out there and we just exist to provide answers to them. We should be quick to achieve flawless, consistent results, be efficient, plan-adhering, persevere with the same task that does not budge instead of switching over to a new and seemingly more promising one for fear of being judged as one that ‘easily gives up’. True, there are times where we are judged by these criteria, for instance, exams. But these contexts are mostly strictly institutional. Where we have the room for the slightest choice, we should question these ‘invisible questions’ and ascertain what really are the questions that we should answer. If speed and efficiency were not our goal, what is? It is time for us to fortify our unassuming, unquestioning mindsets.

Mahatma Ghandi was known for freeing India from British rule and the popular adage: the pen is mightier than the sword. Though that may be because he’s 5 feet 5 and less than a 100 pounds. But many are not aware of what came before he made history. Without his initial impoverished experiences in England where he eventually went on to study law and without doing a case in South Africa where his experiences of discrimination, injustice and hardship shaped him as a person, his passion to free India from the British would not come. Beating around the bush and taking detours and letting the elements influence your goal gives you an invaluable set of experiences, values and knowledge. Our goals change with time and new developments.

Life is a web of experiences, not about getting to a point.

Sometimes, we don’t even know about our goal, the point we want to get to. An artist has a general idea of what he wants to paint but the end result is never the same.  Sometimes, a ‘glitch’, an unexpected act actually yields the perfect outcome. A writer has a sketch of what he wants to write but his writings from day to day would differ and an occasional inspiration would not have taken place if a delicate change of circumstances has occurred. There is no way to ‘get to a point’ in creative expression. One can only ‘arrive’ and one will know when one has done so.

Sometimes, it is better not to have a goal. An athlete once said that he only starts counting after he is tired. Sometimes, you can achieve so much more than the goal you’ve set or the result that you expect.

Sometimes, you focus so much on getting to the point and miss out on the process. As the saying goes, the journey is more fulfilling than the finishing point. It is the challenge of running a marathon that makes the finishing point that worthy.

I never make specific new-year resolutions. I wished for wisdom, character, and happiness this year. I pursue these intangible values wherever I go. These are the steering wheels in my life. I know what wherever they lead me, I’ll be content and fulfilled and successful as a person. Better things can happen that are out of your expectations, your imagination. Be ready to be distracted, led astray, to get off from the point. Don’t only dare to dream, but dare to be surprised. For there are better things than dreams out there. Better things than merely getting to the point can offer you.

The Secret

This. Is. Amazing. I thank you, I thank you, I thank you. Everything’s coming true for me.

One thing: I sat on the grass today with my friends. I had the most amazing day yesterday and strung onto today. I can’t believe myself— yes I do.

This is phenomenal. I’m so happy.

It’ll continue on and on and on. And tonight, I’ll Make It Work. I can’t wait.

Banging Games

And so it’s Tuesday, 4 days before departure.. or arrival or well, both, as with many things in life. I’m just blogging because I’m procrastinating on things I need to do.

I’m living these days in a haze. I’m currently reading Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. Somehow, the vibes of the books I read tend to match the vibes of my life at the moment– or the other way around. I said vibes– the feel of the plot/words/form or even fonts, not the utter specifics.

But Somehow, this is strange. I was talking about ‘games’ in the previous post. And now, in Norwegian Wood, this guy, ‘Nagasawa’, a highly successful, highly respected, somewhat amoral college law student talks about life and all things in his life that he achieves, or aims to achieve, as games. He has bang-ed 70+ chicks, mostly ONSs, not because he particularly enjoys it but because it’s a sort-of game to him. (When his friend, whom he met when he spotted him reading a seldom-read book that he liked too and whom he took around for ONS-hunts (after reading the 70+ mark), has already bang-ed 2-3 girls that way, felt uneasy and mildly disgusted by this ONS routine asked: I’ve already done this 2-3 times. You’ve done this 70+ times. Don’t you feel tired of of this? He answered: congratulations, you’re a decent human being. That’s right, there is absolutely nothing to be gained from this.)

And when asked about his interview for the foreign affairs job, he said, “Easy, just like bangin’ chicks.” He takes no particular liking towards high-ranked, high-paying jobs, success etc. but just wants to go all out to see how far he could go in society by playing his game.

When asked about his guiding principle in life, he warned that the other party– the above-mentioned friend may laugh at him. When egged on, he said, “To be a gentleman.” His friend, allegedly, almost fell off his bar stool. But his elaboration was cool: A gentleman is someone who does not do what he wants to do but what he should do.

Alright, I’ll go to pack, cancel things off my shopping list and meet up with the last of my friends.

A Coin Down the Misery Well

I’ll be back soon so there won’t be that profound sense of misery in me anymore. This place makes me sad. This place brings out the mediocre in me. Life sinks into a habit. I was walking home one night, that same route out of the 2 routes. Under those trees, I felt like I knew what my life will feel like for the rest of my life. Constantly running, constantly chased down, constantly playing games. Deep down, misery will pervade all that I do here. It’s in the quarantined apartments in the lifeless high-rise flats, it’s in the train stations with nonchalant trains arriving too punctually with aloof passengers, it’s in the identical, functional trees, the template way of thought– rather, the lack of and bias and self-righteousness and ‘scariness’.

I’m scared of this place and its people. It makes me lose faith in how I will be as a person. Maybe it is this way all around Earth. Maybe I need to go planet-hunting. Predictability scares me. If what happens in my life is within the boundaries of my imagination– why don’t I just live in my imagination instead? It’s so much cleaner than living it out. I could also freeze my life when my skin is still relatively taut and my figure passably good. Rid of all other value concerns, I feel that it is tragic to keep pumping life into a set of withered skin and jammed up nervous circuits.

I wonder about what I’ll be when I ‘grow up’. Soon, I’ll really be a ‘grown-up’. The transition is so smooth it makes no difference, really. Life is all about playing games. Nothing seems to stay good. When I see something falling lately, all I do is smirk and say .. oh yeah, this is disappointingly, what people do. I don’t expect anything anymore. I just concentrate on making myself happy, making myself great, well-maintained, winning the games out there.

Maybe there’s this misery well in me. It seems to be ever-thirsty.

Or maybe I’m just not in a good mood today, as all humans do sometimes. I would rather be a plant– one that does not serve humans, and die every few weeks or months.