I mean I want to see

The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia
James C. Scott
New Haven, CT, Yale University Press, 2009, ISBN: 9780300152289; 464pp.; Price: £20.00;
(You can also get it off NUS Press: Support local publishing.)

THIS book if you’re travelling in the region, or have an interest in SE Asia. I ♥ academic writing that’s not full of jargon. I absolutely detest ideological theorising for the sake of theorising, and have little patience with academic-ese.

Ah, those good old days of struggling with academics’ convoluted arguments when I was doing the review pages and wanting to stamp on their feet and shove peanuts up their noses. Luckily J-Das did most of the heavy lifting when he came on board.

Things I WILL NOT be in my next incarnation:

1. Bureaucrat
2. Someone who churns out bad academic-ese.
3. Someone who is all talk but no action.

*

Hmm. But work like this has been done with the Kurds and other “marginal” people who are termed “anarchists”. Hmm.

Typical Asian geek. Image © here

I’D HATED economics with a vengeance at Hwa Chong, mostly because I disliked the tutor…it’s so different now that I’ve had a taste of how important econs is. Also, Prof Daquila is this loveliest funny Pinoy who makes comments about Marcos and how his mother-in-law thinks Singapore is paradise because we can get everything in NTUC.

And I’m having the time of my life poring over statistics, thinking about exchange rates, memorising figures. I’ve this massive tome of photocopied material that I’m working through this afternoon, and this is one of the best ways to spend the afternoon.

I totally LOVE the Pinoy professors we have. Ileto, Daquila, Bautista…funny and wry and of the “let them shoot water cannons at me” type. Totally made the right choice to read SE Asian studies.

Moving from the GATT to the WTO and the inclusion of Asian and Latin Americans, how the US is a relentless negotiator, and how labour standards can lead to abuse by protectionists that could undermine the comparative advantage of low-wage developing countries. Everything I’d known by reading the papers and via common sense, but in my favourite form of communication: well-written academic-ese!!!! SWOON!

Feeding time for cat at Pasir Ris toilet C4/5. Note drainage system courtesy of MEWR. Image © Yvonne Koh

Mewr. Image © Yvonne Koh

Lazing around after being fed. Image © Yvonne Koh

Cat at Toilet C2. Image © Yvonne Koh

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On A’s plan for a tour company.

B: You can link up with all the Oxford toffs.
A: I went to a poor college. Our most famous alum is Aung San Suu Kyi. And she’s under house arrest.

Greenery at Pasir Ris. Image © Yvonne Koh

Vertical garden at Hort Park. Image © Yvonne Koh

In case we needed ambulances. Image © Yvonne Koh

Wildlife. We also had to inch past monkeys with baby monkeys on the treetop walk. Image © Yvonne Koh

OUT hiking Southern Ridges and Kent Ridge with WL, DS, MG. ‘Twas a nice leisurely walk in which WL pointed out Alkaff Mansions, The World’s Best Toilet, and we saw monkeys and monitor lizards and took a bus from ulu nowhere back to Buona Vista. Good to get some fresh air, and now it’s back to chao mugging. I don’t know ANYTHING much about SE Asia, so it’s great to take this programme.

Life’s wonderful. :) Good discussions in class, making new friends and keeping in touch with the people who really matter.

*

…British colonial Malaya, where nineteenth century patterns of labour recruitment, deployment and control and subsequent policies towards agriculture, administration, language and education, and religion discouraged the assimilation and intermarriage of Chinese immigrants into Malay society and encouraged instead the hardening of Chinese and Malay identities. Given the sheer size of the Chinese population, the perceived backwardness of the Malay peasantry and aristocracy, and the racialist logic of the British colonial state, paternalistic policies were also adopted with the avowed aim of “protecting” the rights of the “native” population from “alien” (that is, Chinese, but not European) predators.¹

To do:

SE 4229 Review article, due Sept 17.
SE 5151 Reflection essay, due Sept 30.
Bahasa learning.
Reading up on country histories of SEA: eg Indonesia, Philippines, Thailand.

*

A: Do either you of you do artsy things?
B: C used to play the piano. But he stopped after meeting me. I’m like his anti-muse.

A (on political dissession): They could put me on Sentosa.
B: And you’ll be forced to ride the roller coasters again and again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

洪艺菁

　　我喜欢看香港电视连续剧和电影，尤其是粤语原版的。工作很忙，以前总告诉自己，等老了才看还来得及。但随着普通话越来越普及，等到我年老，粤语影视业会否随着观众群的缩小而逐渐凋零？

　　广州市政协建议，将广州电视台主要频道，由广东话改为华语播出，以适应亚运会及广州拟打造国际都市形象的需要。这建议引起民众的极大回响，广州掀起一场广东话（粤语）保卫战。数百名广州民众上个月25日在闹市公开集会，以行动力挺粤语，主要是“80后”及“90后”的年轻人。

　　一些民众也在社交网站“面簿”（Facebook）上号召支持者，香港抗议者甚至扬言要号召10万人，今天上街“捍卫广东话、中国传统”。

　　中国政府推广普通话政策可追溯到1956年，广州市政府部门、教育机构开始逐步使用普通话作为主要语言，粤语的使用则被不同程度地削弱。这次的建议却引起人民如此强烈反应，可归纳成四大原因。

　　一、广州市政协早前针对建议进行调查，反对者达79.5%，同意者仅占20.5%，但当局却一意孤行，引起民众反感，质问当局“为什么不尊重结果”？

　　二、市政协声称这么做是为了迎接亚洲运动会，但批评者指这原因不符合逻辑，因为亚洲多数国家的运动员都不懂得普通话。

　　三、有人指出，粤语华语之争“其实是岭南文化与北方文化的冲突”，直呼“母语告急，岭南文化垂危！”

　　四、广州台全改播普通话的建议从心灵深处刺伤了说粤语人的心。在香港，人民更为自己熟悉的语言“感到委屈”。香港《苹果日报》前记者蔡淑芳表示：“在英国统治的年代，广东话在香港普遍被视为二等语言，现在香港回归祖国，作为母语的广东话，仍然遭到抨击，令人遗憾。”一些人把今次行动视为捍卫粤语的最后堡垒。

　　另一方面，有些人却批评这些反对者行动过于偏激，认为广州应有开放用华语的包容胸襟，“让外来人融入广州，首先是语言融合”。

也有人从学术角度切入，指出所谓的“广东话”并不只是“粤语”，还包括潮州话和客家话，因此岭南文化不会随着粤语的减少使用而被削弱。但是，捍卫派却指出，政府“现在拿粤语开刀，接下来就轮到其他方言了。”

　　香港民众今天将在湾仔举行“保护粤语大行动”，远在新加坡的我，唯能寄予遥远的祝福。

　　身为新加坡人，我实在没立场说什么捍卫的话。毕竟，新加坡华人早就放弃了我们的方言。事实也证明，新加坡的华文华语政策，让不同籍贯的华人更好地沟通，也加强年轻一代的竞争力。可是，我们和我们的下一代因此失去了什么？也许，只有多年后蓦然回首，我们才会有所觉悟，或感到遗憾。

　　我无法列出一百个应该捍卫方言的理由。我想支持和祝福广州和香港的挺粤民众，完全只是出自同理心。和他们一样，粤语陪伴我成长，我也很不舍得看到粤语的舞台越来越小。

　　我对广东话有特别深厚的感情，虽然它不是我的母语，却是我外婆的语言。

　　我小时候由外婆照顾，虽然外婆会讲华语，但有时还是会掺杂几句粤语。当我不开心或睡不着，外婆都会唱粤语童谣《月光光》、《团团转》给我听。

我们最大的嗜好就是祖孙俩并坐在舒服的大床上，一起看粤语古装片录像带，看大侠如何排除万难、伸张正义、扶弱济贫。“邪不能胜正”的思想，就这么根深蒂固地烙印在我小小的脑海里。

　　讲广东话也是我出国留学时，与马来西亚同学拉近距离的最佳方法。在纽西兰游学半年，那里的新加坡人不多，马来西亚学生却不少，而且很活跃。由于我能够说粤语，很快就融入他们的圈子里，结交许多好友。新马文化相近，有这些同学相伴，初次独自出国的我一解乡愁。

　　初当记者，跑意外新闻时，需要访问年长者时，粤语也特别能派上用场。访问年长者，若以方言发问，对方一般比较愿意打开心房，接受访问。

　　近几年，外婆有些老年痴呆了，有时会想象自己回到年轻的时光。她有时会语无伦次，答非所问，但用广东话和她交谈时，她一般比较有反应，因此我们很庆幸，还有这道与她沟通的桥梁。

　最近同事访问一少年，少年透露由于他祖父母都讲方言，因此他和祖父母交谈时，总觉得“有些怪异”。我听了同事的分享，心里抽痛了一下。

　　然而，对于崇尚“事事向前看”的新加坡来说，这些也许根本没什么大不了，因为说得冷酷一些，这群讲方言的老人和他们熟悉的方言一样，都因为再也没有经济价值，无法为新加坡“打造国际都市形象”或“缔造经济增长”而被忽略、遗忘。

　 　（作者是《我报》采访主任）

My weekend! Image © here

A: You know what they say about ASSUME. It makes an ASS of U and U.
A: Oh wait…
B: I don’t know about U but I like ASS.
A: Arts and Social Sciences?

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HAPPY Friendship Day, everyone! Friends are the best assets we can have, and they stick with us through thick and thin, and make life worth living. Thank you for being my friend.

I think I’ve been quite harsh with guys I’ve gone out with and with whom it didn’t work out. You guys are NOT “not husband material”…you rock, in fact. Sometimes it’s my fault: I tend to vacillate between “doormat” and “harridan”. Have to learn to draw lines about what’s acceptable and what’s unacceptable behaviour in a calmer manner.

*

(I)

In a Classroom
by Adrienne Rich

Talking of poetry, hauling the books
arm-full to the table where the heads
bend or gaze upward, listening, reading aloud,
talking of consonants, elision,
caught in the how, oblivious of why:
I look in your face, Jude,
neither frowning nor nodding,
opaque in the slant of dust-motes over the table:
a presence like a stone, if a stone were thinking
What I cannot say, is me. For that I came.

(II)

Why do you teach?

Because I see the ringless fingers of the searcher.
Taciturn faces can soften, and somehow
Light came, despite treacherous routes in the night.

I see your head’s bent in the lamp’s yellow spot tonight,
your mouth’s a tightened bow.
You know how they’ve starved their love to feed the pride,
and you want something different.

This is love’s ambush. You know the predators of pain
stalking with naked foot, yearning’s teeth,
a safe place to die. I want you to unearth something else:

The sweetness of accomplishment, where broken promises knit.
Thirst of those who drink from the water’s edge satisfied.
Craters made full. Treasure lost and found. Love’s debts paid.

Looked like it was going to rain…

With dark clouds looming over Ubin

But the sun came out in the end

Bali: Tirta Empul. I love that island so much…

THIS week we revisit one of my favorite shows. As is often the case, I hear Rachel Naomi Remen differently with the passage of time. I’m also struck right now by the title we gave this conversation with her — “Listening Generously.” The longer I do this work, the more aware I am of listening as a discipline and vocation — and something I do with and for all of you. This is a great privilege, and a gift.

And listening to Rachel Naomi Remen is nourishing. She is not a religious figure per se, rather a kind of quiet modern-day mystic. Her wisdom is somewhat countercultural. Living well, she says, is not about eradicating our losses, wounds, and weaknesses. It is about understanding how they continually complete our identity and equip us to help others. As a doctor, she’s seen time and again how even deep pathologies and failures become the source of unsuspected strengths. She believes that however difficult our lives become or how fraught our choices, most of us never lose our capacity to be whole human beings. We may forget that potential in ourselves, yet it can reappear full-blown in times of crisis. The hope that her stories engender is itself a healing experience.

I’ve been ever after changed by her telling of a formative story of hope. On her fourth birthday, her grandfather, an Orthodox rabbi and a student of the Jewish mystical tradition of Kabbalah, taught her about “the birthday of the world,” as he called it: In the beginning, the world was made of light. But by some accident, the light was scattered, and it lodged as countless sparks inside every aspect of creation. The highest human calling is to look for this original light from where we sit, to point to it and gather it up and in so doing to repair the world, tikkun olam.

This might sound like an idealistic and fanciful idea. But Rachel Naomi Remen calls it an important and empowering image. It insists that each one of us, flawed and inadequate as we may feel, has exactly what’s needed to help repair the part of the world that we can see and touch. This story is a practical tool — the kind of practical tool religious traditions carry forward in time — for a world longing to address images of suffering that can otherwise overwhelm us.

The following passage from Rachel Naomi Remen’s Kitchen Table Wisdom, which we hear in this show, was written with physicians in mind. But it holds a resonant caution and challenge for all of us, I think, as we struggle to face yet not be overwhelmed or numbed by the pain and suffering that are a fact of human existence near and far.

“The expectation that we can be immersed in suffering and loss daily and not be touched by it is as unrealistic as expecting to be able to walk through water without getting wet. This sort of denial is no small matter. The way we deal with loss shapes our capacity to be present to life more than anything else. The way we protect ourselves from loss may be the way in which we distance ourselves from life… We burn out not because we don’t care but because we don’t grieve. We burn out because we’ve allowed our hearts to become so filled with loss that we have no room left to care.”

I wish you glorious days of summer, and a renewed capacity to care.

D SAID he tried not to be too harsh on himself as he’s not found a partner when we were talking of his parents; I thought of LKY and his love for his wife and how tough it must be when someone you love is dying.

I told my diving partners when we were on the ferry that one of the things I look for when I’m looking long term is whether this person will be there and dependable when the shit hits the fan, such as when if one or both of us should fall seriously ill, if a child runs into trouble, when there are different pulls on our time and needs. A good marriage is about compromise and support and working together towards joint goals.

Came across Gottman when I was reading Malcolm Gladwell. He can predict whether a couple will divorce after watching and listening to them for just five minutes.

From John M. Gottman, The Seven Principles For Making Marriage Work (ISBN: 0609805797):

What can make a marriage work is surprisingly simple. Happily married couples aren’t smarter, richer, or more psychologically astute than others. But in their day-to-day lives, they have hit upon a dynamic that keeps their negative thoughts and feelings about each other (which all couples have) from overwhelming their positive ones. They have what I call an emotionally intelligent marriage.

Recently, emotional intelligence has become widely recognised as an important predictor of a child’s success later in life. The more in touch with emotions and the better able a child is to understand and get along with others, the sunnier that child’s future, whatever his or her academic IQ. The same is true for relationships between spouses. The more emotionally intelligent a couple — the better able they are to understand, honour, and respect each other and their marriage — the more likely that they will indeed live happily ever after. Just as parents can teach their children emotional intelligence, this is also a skill that a couple can be taught. As simple as it sounds, it can keep husband and wife on the positive side of the divorce odds.

Perhaps family lawyers who handle divorce cases should also have a list of counsellors or psychologists who can also do marital counselling? If I do by some chance end up in law, this is something I’d look into — counselling for couples seeking divorce.

In the meantime there’s NUS stuff to go through and courses to sign up for. Pretty excited about it all, actually — I might end up in teaching rather than law after all.

Redang…beautiful white sand between my toes & clearest blue waters too. Mmm….

AND relaxing after finishing my first dive of the year, after I got certified last July. Saw a hawksbill turtle, a dead hawksbill turtle, and a huge blue-spotted ray :) Had to surface as I was cramping and my fins dropped off two times, though, and my sinuses are not feeling all that great. We’ll see if I can continue diving tomorrow…

I’m with a fun bunch of people, who’re much more experienced divers. I’ve only logged six dives, while the rest of them have at least 30 under their belt.

Am pretty rusty when it comes to buoyancy, and I’d even forgotten how to put the gear together…but as with driving and other hands-on skills, it’s by doing that we learn. I adore the feeling of weightlessness under water. It’s so good to just float along, with zero gravity.

Would love to get S and DS and JC and the rest of the divers out, but everybody seems to be busy with work or are injured. LT is interested in learning, though, and I’m very enthused about having another potential buddy.

And gearing up…a pair of fins, booties and a mesh bag is the next step, with a BCD eventually…will want to try out other people’s gear when I go on course. A regulator, I’m not so sure. A dive computer can wait as well, though it may well be my next watch. C has a Swatch watch that goes up to 200m and doesn’t cost that much. I think there’s a huge market for pretty girls’ dive logs, dive computers, gear bags (come on, why are they all in uniform IBM black), und so weiter. I chose my Beuchat wetsuit because it’s edged in pink, and the Tusa snorkel and mask strap cos they come in pink as well. Maybe we can have little dolphins and Nemos with flowers all over our stuff… :)

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From Writer’s Almanac.

This is why I like KFC actually, it lets me share meals with my Muslim friends. I get a bit sick of fried food all the time…I actually (secretly) like YTF despite bitching about it all the time. Hey, I am Hakka.

Perhaps the World Ends Here
by Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what,
we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the
table so it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe
at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what
it means to be human. We make men at it,
we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts
of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms
around our children. They laugh with us at our poor
falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back
together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella
in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place
to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate
the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared
our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.
We pray of suffering and remorse.
We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.

“Perhaps the World Ends Here” by Joy Harjo, from Reinventing the Enemy’s Language. © W.W. Norton and Co., 1998. Reprinted with permission.

*

A (at the buffet): She’s going Western style, course by course.
B: I’m going Ethiopian style as I don’t want to vomit underwater.
C: I’m going garbage style: Everything also goes in.

A: So we were in the army and this guy I knew was quite pampered at home. So he put stones in his pocket or something to march for three hours and ended up going to see the medic with huge bruises and abrasions on his thighs. He got out of heavy marching for days after that…
D: Wow, that’s smart.
A: This guy is quiet but he’s good. There he is. (points to E)
E smiles.
A: To this day we’re not sure what exactly he did. We’re just guessing it’s stones.

The thing is…

JUST read this amazing book by Carlos Fuentes, which I found on the library shelves.

The person who works by night inevitably ends up feeling like the creator of the world. If he doesn’t work through the night, the sun will not come out the following day. As I would be getting ready for bed, Carlos would come in to say goodnight, wrapped in an old beach robe. Only once, thinking that I was asleep, did he retreat from me murmuring, “I am damned.” Then the night would come and give him all the education he needed. The night was his metaphor. The night came and no one could stop it. It is the hour for the creation that battles with darkness and death.

*

Confederacy of shadows, intertwined destinies and death, people and all they leave behind, inert, in a drawer, in a closet, on an empty canvas or a blank page. And despite everything, we fight to hold on to the heat of the object, the force of the brushstroke, the footprint of the man who walks…What joy it was to learn that Carlos, gifted with an intuition that was both wonderful and terrible, spent the last evening of his existence, in Puerto Vallarta, phoning all his friends, all over the world, telling them about his plans to finish his movie, publish his book of poems, exhibit his artwork, telling them he was happy, strong, full of creativity, in love with his girlfriend Yvette. The following morning he collapsed under the weight of a pulmonary infarction.

*

If I’ve a child I might well name her Carol. For music’s sake. We give names to exorcise. I’m a poet. I’m not a lawyer. But I’ll learn because of issues dear to me, such as land law. It’s gonna be a long road ahead, but I’m pretty happy…was surfing the Intranet for NUS courses and getting. So. Excited! :) I eventually want to teach, though. NUS seems like the best choice. Are they short of teachers or what? How come so many interesting-sounding courses are not being offered?

– Louis MacNeice

Time was away and somewhere else,
There were two glasses and two chairs
And two people with the one pulse
(Somebody stopped the moving stairs)
Time was away and somewhere else.

And they were neither up nor down;
The stream’s music did not stop
Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
Although they sat in a coffee shop
And they were neither up nor down.

The bell was silent in the air
Holding its inverted poise -
Between the clang and clang a flower,
A brazen calyx of no noise:
The bell was silent in the air.

The camels crossed the miles of sand
That stretched around the cups and plates;
The desert was their own, they planned
To portion out the stars and dates:
The camels crossed the miles of sand.

Time was away and somewhere else.
The waiter did not come, the clock
Forgot them and the radio waltz
Came out like water from a rock:
Time was away and somewhere else.

Her fingers flicked away the ash
That bloomed again in tropic trees:
Not caring if the markets crash
When they had forests such as these,
Her fingers flicked away the ash.

God or whatever means the Good
Be praised that time can stop like this,
That what the heart has understood
Can verify in the body’s peace
God or whatever means the Good.

Time was away and she was here
And life no longer what it was,
The bell was silent in the air
And all the room one glow because
Time was away and she was here.

WE’LL see how NUS goes. :) In the meantime, postcards to all the lovelies.

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From 王文華: 我的神秘友人

I especially like: “我從哪來、去哪裡、做什麼、怎麼做、成功了、失敗了，其實都不重要。真正重要的是，在路上，我遇到了「神秘友人」、夢想學校的學生、罵我豬頭的客戶、跟我分手的情人。我跟他們交會的火花本身，就是這趟旅程的目的。我永遠是爸爸的兒子，只要我去實踐，他教我的美好價值。”

*

我的神秘友人，幫了我很多忙。包括讓我想起，我又是我爸爸的兒子。

這是我獻給神秘友人、和我爸爸的文章。現在也獻給我在Facebook 上，所有的「神秘友人」。

突然間，我又是爸爸的兒子

王文華

這是一張電影海報的故事。

1996年，我在紐約時代廣場一家破戲院，看了湯姆克魯斯主演的《征服情海》(“Jerry Maguire”)。

湯姆克魯斯演Jerry Maguire，原本是運動員經紀公司的紅人，有一天突然良心發現，寫了封萬言書給全公司，呼籲老闆「少賺一點錢，多做一點公益」。同事們收到後鼓掌叫好，他來上班時大家列隊歡迎…

一周後他就被fire了！

他被fire掉後，所有曾吹捧他的同事和客戶都瞬間拋棄了他，只有一個助理、一個客戶、一隻金魚願意跟他走。三人之中，金魚似乎是最懂他的。他每次看到那金魚，都認真地對他說：「我只是寫出了我的使命宣言。」金魚睜大眼珠、吐著氣泡，也不知道懂不懂。

《征服情海》一直到今天都是我最喜歡的電影，因為它不像一般包著糖衣的勵志片，告訴你理想都是好的，真愛可以戰勝一切。片中對職場和愛情的觀察很誠實。比如說當湯姆克魯斯帶著芮妮齊薇格和金魚，英雄式地離開公司時，他故做氣勢地對芮妮齊薇格說：「哼，我們走，看他們沒有我們怎麼辦！」沒想到他們前腳一走，公司立刻恢復忙碌，少了他們一點影響都沒有。

當然是這樣！職場中沒有誰是不能被取代的！

又如湯姆克魯斯的未婚妻離開他前，用戴著訂婚鑽戒的拳頭打了他的臉。事後湯姆克魯斯自嘲說：「還好當初沒送她她比較喜歡的那顆大鑽石！」

除了誠實，我喜歡這部電影有另一個原因。當年我在紐約的大公司上班，每天在理想和現實間的掙扎。我最認同Jerry Maguire的是：他不是純粹的理想主義者，也不是唯利是圖的資本家。他跟我們大部分上班族一樣，有理想，但也想賺錢(“Show me the money！”)。有傲骨，但也能忍下羞辱。不管出賣過多少次靈魂，他對事業和人生，仍有一份使命宣言。

1999年，我搬回台灣。在迪士尼和MTV兩家大公司，做了五年。這五年高低起伏，低潮時，我看《征服情海》，聽Jerry Maguire的師父對他說：「如果心是空的，腦再聰明也沒用。」

我動用關係，跟《征服情海》在美國的發行公司，要了一張原版海報。收到那天，我像收到自己的出生證明。我儀式化地從DHL硬紙盒中拿出捲好的海報，慢慢展開。湯姆克魯斯的側臉露出來，文案寫著：「每個人都愛他。每個人都落跑了。 Jerry Maguire。旅程的本身才是一切。」

不知為什麼，當時特別喜歡「旅程的本身才是一切」(“The journey is everything”)。但我並不懂它的意思。

當晚我把海報放回硬紙盒，側靠在牆上，準備隔天去裱起來。

但第二天到公司一看，硬紙盒不見了！

我到處問同事，沒人看到。問大樓管理員，他說：「可能被清潔阿姨當垃圾扔了！」「垃圾都集中在哪裡？」「地下室的垃圾間。」

B2的垃圾間，像密閉的亂葬崗。我翻了半小時，在角落找到那張揉爛的海報。

我像送急診一樣拿去裱框店：「還有救嗎？」老闆說：「沒問題。」

一周後，我拿到平整的海報。像乾洗過的襯衫，一點都看不出死而復生的痕跡。

我把海報掛在客廳牆上，又在網路上買了一張複製品掛在公司。在那兩張海報下，我過了五年上班族的日子。有成功，有失敗，有傲骨，也有屈辱。客戶在那張海報前罵我豬頭，女友在那張海報前跟我分手。2005年，我辭去MTV總經理的工作。唯一帶走的，是當初帶進來的這張海報。

我無意間模仿著Jerry Maguire，離開大公司，自立門戶。我想起劇中有人跟Jerry Maguire說：「偉大的唯一方法，是把你的『球』高掛在空中！」那話不完全對。跟電影中的情節一樣，我發現自立門戶沒有想像的那麼浪漫，把『球』高掛在空中也很容易著涼。你還是有老闆，也就是付你錢的客戶。他們還是會罵你豬頭，簽約後仍然跟你分手。離開大公司，我只當了一秒鐘的英雄。接下來一年，剩下一個人在大海中獨泳。大公司沒有我變得更好，我沒有大公司卻變得更糟。過去每個人都愛我，現在每個人都落跑了。

但慢慢的，我找到適合長泳的姿勢。我寫作、演講、做節目、當顧問。比以前更認真、更節省。我交新朋友，不再是以總經理的身份，而是以王文華的身份。我追女朋友，不再是以奪金牌的心情，而是以找伴侶的心情。慢慢的，我周日晚上不再焦慮，周一早上期待起床，客戶說我的東西有價值，我不再覺得自己只是小螺絲。

不再是小螺絲，因為不斷做新嘗試。2007年，我和好友張明正創辦了若水公司，投資公益事業。今年五月，我創辦了「王文華的夢想學校」，教授上班族職場技能。

這些嘗試的規模都很小，但都讓我體驗Jerry Maguire送出使命宣言時說的那句話：「我35歲，我誕生了。」

誕生後，我體會到不必永遠活在一張海報下。我仍喜歡《征服情海》，但應該讓它的精神傳向世界，而不是藏在家裡。

於是去年10月，我辦了一個義賣活動。把誕生前所有紀念品賣掉，所得捐給「天主教失智老人基金會」。

結果一位「神秘友人」，在電話上透過代理人，用9萬2千1 百元(921是國際失智症日)，買下《征服情海》的海報。

9萬元，買一張曾經埋在垃圾堆的海報。

代理人恪盡職責，我百般追問下，仍不透露「神秘友人」是誰。我當然猜到幾人，但也不再追問。這種感覺不是很好嗎？有人支持你，你不必知道是誰。我感受到Jerry Maguire在寫使命宣言時說的話：「突然間，我又是爸爸的兒子。」我爸爸已過世，但有另一位神秘友人，提醒我爸爸曾教我的美好價值：少賺一點錢，多做一點公益，在理想和現實間掙扎，為善不欲人知…

2009年10月後，我家沒有海報了，我也好一陣子沒有再看《征服情海》。但我從沒忘記片中芮妮齊薇格跟湯姆克魯斯說的那句話：「我跟你走，是因為我想被啟發。」

因為想被啟發、並且啟發人，我在2010年的5月創辦了「王文華的夢想學校」。5月29日第一次上課，50位學員跟我一起實現了我的夢想。一整天的課程結束後，我意外地看到「代理人」帶著《征服情海》海報走進來。她在眾人面前把海報，和一張紙條給我。紙條是「神秘友人」寫的：

「送上你最喜愛的海報，你為了做好事送它出門，它為你又回來了。希望你像Jerry Maguire一樣，一個人(加上一隻魚)，影響另一個人，再影響一小群人，再影響一大群人。」

那一刻我突然懂得，什麼叫「旅程的本身才是一切」。

我從哪來、去哪裡、做什麼、怎麼做、成功了、失敗了，其實都不重要。真正重要的是，在路上，我遇到了「神秘友人」、夢想學校的學生、罵我豬頭的客戶、跟我分手的情人。我跟他們交會的火花本身，就是這趟旅程的目的。我永遠是爸爸的兒子，只要我去實踐，他教我的美好價值。

2010年6月，在第一次看《征服情海》14年後，我又把同一張海報掛回牆上。夜欄人靜、疲憊不堪時，我發現我無意識地對著那張海報說：

「我只是寫出了我的使命宣言。」

-完-

“The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That’s the only lasting thing you can create.”

– Chuck Palahniuk

From this blog. This man sounds like such a lovely man. In Vienna.

He reminds me of why teachers in Asia are my favourite people. I love the Princeton programme…I met some of his friends on my trip through Laos, and they remind me of X. Educators *are* my favourite people. The people I met are friendly, easy-going, empathetic, and intelligent and hungry and funny.

I hope you find your harbour. I hope you find your sanctuary. I hope you find your heart’s home. God bless, god speed, and bon voyage. If you want to stay where you are and sleep all day, I think that’s perfectly fine too. :) That’s how dreams are made, you know.

That reminds me, I have to go read The White Tiger. Mmm…reading. You adult readers can go and watch football and surf for porn and watch TV if you want. Just remember to stay clean, go slow, and relax. :)

I think Singapore’s the best place for that, actually.

I REMEMBER how we were so obstinate, refusing to budge, arguing over taxes and Thatcher and redistribution of income. But you know what? He’s got a heart of gold. A heart of gold. And that’s what matters. Of the two Jos left, I know which one I’d save. I’ll save the one grinding at the mill. The Jo who’s been closest to me, with whom I’ve suffered. A comrade. Someone who knows my story growing up here. I’d choose this one. The hard worker.

On my table now:
M. Scott Peck’s People Of The Lie
Archbishop Rowan Williams’ Lost Icons
William B. Irvine’s On Desire

Ah, time to read… :) No silly football match.

MAYBE they’ll come back, maybe they won’t. But let them have time for play.

Speaking of which, Sunday seems nice and bright. Maybe I’ll open the door and leave the house. I kinda envy Jo and her two sons. :)

饮水思源: See this site — When one drinks water, one must not forget where it comes from.; be unforgetful of those who fought to make the present possible for us; gratitude for the source of benefit; never forget where one’s happiness comes from; remember past kindness; When drinking water think of its source.; While drinking, don’t forget the water’s source.

I’ll always remember those meals we shared, and when we poured water for each other. I remember the Laotian kids leaping into the waterfall, and how Dan couldn’t find a place to swim in despite wanting to. I remember everything.

I said I take poetry along to memorise on each trip, and when he asked which one I said: “I’m not a performing seal.” Well, here are some of the poems I printed out for the trip.

In Memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con Markiewicz
Yeats 1865-1939

The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears
Blossom from the summer’s wreath;
The older is condemned to death,
Pardoned, drags out lonely years
Conspiring among the ignorant.
I know not what the younger dreams —
Some vague Utopia — and she seems,
When withered old and skeleton-gaunt,
An image of such politics.
Many a time I think to seek
One or the other out and speak
Of that old Georgian mansion,
mix pictures of the mind, recall
That table and the talk of youth,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.

Dear shadows, now you know it all,
All the folly of a fight
With a common wrong or right.
The innocent and the beautiful.
Have no enemy but time;
Arise and bid me strike a match
And strike another till time catch;
Should the conflagration climb,
Run till all the sages know.
We the great gazebo built,
They convicted us of guilt;
Bid me strike a match and blow.

*

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold,
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

- Louis MacNeice

*

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- Elizabeth Bishop (8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979)

*

Prayer

Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So, a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.

Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.

Pray for us now. Grade I piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child’s name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside. Inside, the radio’s prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.

- CAROL ANN DUFFY

*

I must not die of pity; I must live;
Grow strong, not sicken; eat, digest my food,
That it may build me, and in doing good
To blood and bone, broaden the sensitive
Fastidious pale perception: we contrive
Lean comfort for the starving, who intrude
Upon them with our pots of pity; brewed
From stronger meat must be the broth we give.
Blue, bright September day, with here and there
On the green hills a maple turning red,
And white clouds racing in the windy air! –
If I would help the weak, I must be fed
In wit and purpose, pour away despair
And rinse the cup, eat happiness like bread.

- Edna St Vincent Millay

TALKING to one of the best friends I’ve made recently who’s leaving for HK soon…I like C a great deal, she’s funny and wise and accomplished, and I’ll miss her a lot, but yay to weekend trips in HK. She got her confirmed offer when we were talking over a dinner of salads and fish at yuppie paradise Cedele. L is moving to Taipei. People come, people go…if only there’d be more people I love coming in.

In any case, we are an incredibly blessed bunch of people. In material terms:

This list seems very basic. Yet not everyone in this country or in the world has, or will be able to be grateful for, all of these things. In their life some of these things do not exist now, nor have they ever existed. Thanksgiving Holiday is more than turkey, Grandma’s pumpkin pie, half-price sales and sports events. This list is one which, hopefully, everyone reading it can say applies to them. However simple it may seem, it is humbling and sad to realize that many in our country and even
more in other countries, only have 1-2 things on this list each day, while most if not all of us have all ten! Perhaps if we are thankful for these basic things daily, it will help ourselves and others gain more abundance, or at least we will appreciate our own more.

1. Waking Up Alive.
George Burns once said a great day for him was waking up and not seeing candles, a church, and his friends all dressed in black. He was blessed financially and health wise. Many, in this country and in other countries, are lucky to make it to age 10, let alone 100.

2. Decent Air to Breathe.
While everyone has this, in some places in the world, the air is so polluted and foul smelling, the people die of respiratory ailments just from breathing.

3. A New Day to Learn and to Earn a Livelihood.
Most of us live in areas with very low un-employment rates. If we choose and need to work and have a job, we can earn money daily or weekly *somehow*. Others are in school or educational environments. They can learn or increase what they already know. Many people have no jobs and will never have a chance to learn a basic education.

4. A Home In Which to Eat, Sleep, Live, and Relax.
We are blessed if we are not one of the millions of people whose home consists of a car, an abandoned house or building, cardboard or tin constructed “shelters,” or the bare earth or grass. Think about pictures you may have seen of the homeless when you complain about your home or apartment being too cold or warm, or the utility bill being too high.

5. Ample Clean Food to Eat and the Option to Buy as Much as We Need.
Most of us never have experienced waiting in line 2-6 hours to buy a loaf of bread, some flour, eggs, etc. We don’t know what it is like to wait for a truck to pull up and hand out boxes or containers of rice or Red Cross rations. We’ve never dug in dumpsters behind a grocery store or restaurant to get the food that was thrown out to have for our daily meal. Food is expensive for many. At least in the U.S. we have no lack of it and it is not rationed out to us or sold at black market prices.

6. Friends, Family and Pets.
Most all of us have one or more of these three things in our life. In some parts of the country and the world, people are alone–young children are alone. And the “pet” may have to end up feeding a family or a group of people due to lack of any other food supply. We spend more money on the food and vet bills for our pets than many people in poor countries MAKE in income in 1-3 years!

7. Living in a Democratic Society.
Not talking or pushing politics. But we are free to pretty much do and say what we wish as covered by the Bill of Rights. And we don’t have tanks and armed soldiers walking the streets 24 hours a day looking for looters, guerillas and terrorists. Life and the government isn’t at all perfect here?. But it sure beats anything else I have seen or read about in my lifetime.

8. Abundant Natural Resources.
Yes we need to clean up our water and air, and plant more trees, etc. But we *do* have in our towns, water and sewage control that are sanitary to use and maintained. Our air quality varies from town to town, and on average is much better than in many other countries in the world. We also have ample supplies of electricity, gas, and other resources we need to live and thrive personally and industrially.

9. Clothing to Protect Us from the Elements and to Even Enhance Our Appearance.
True, there are places in the U.S. where people in poverty lack adequate clothing. Compared to our population, however, the majority of us have adequate clothes, and many of us have clothing that is both functional and attractive as well.

10. The Gift of Choice.
This is something everyone has no matter where they live. Even if they live in a poor non-democratic society, we all have the choice to make decisions, to act, and to be however we wish, as adults at least. This was given to us at birth and is never taken away, but is often taken for granted, ignored, or not fully developed or used.

About the Author:
Dennis R. Tesdell is an experienced personal development and self-care coach as well as an author on personal growth, self-care and self improvement issues.

And in emotional terms, I come from a family that’s always given me care and attention and affection. C and I were saying how meal-times have always been important to us growing up…I know kids who are materially well-off but are needier emotionally than third-world children, because their parents were busy working and thought throwing money at them would work. I’m pretty well-adjusted and though the Aged Parents can get on my nerves now and then I love them very much and like to think the sentiment’s returned.

I’ve had the whole international experience thing, and I’m a beneficiary of the system here in Singapore. If things had gone one way, I would be working in a third-world factory somewhere. No Providence, no Boston, no Oxford, no Paris, no Vienna, no backpacking trips across SE and E Asia. There are all these debates about factors that matter in development: economic discipline, socio-cultural causes, the ‘”hero” view that individuals matter (see Tom Plate quotation in previous article). We were *lucky* that a team of people with clean hands and pure hearts came to power at that particular crossroads in history.

I know those of us who’ve spent time abroad tend to yearn a little for the golden cities. And oh, I miss the art galleries and I miss spring and autumn and wonderful libraries. But jia jia you ben nan nian de jing…I feel safer here at home than in many other places. I like how multilingual we are. I fell in love with SE Asia.

Of course, adjusting back was hard at first.

1. Academic life to working life
- wanting to be an academic but working on ST stories. Led to overextending myself with a crazy programme “not to fall behind”, memorizing French conjugations on the MRT, reading books off reading lists I got from my friends in PhD programmes, sleeping an insane 4 hours a day.
- verbally abusive work culture. Exponential increase in number of assholes compared to school, when I happily surrounded myself with fuzzies.
- pay a fraction of what my peers were getting.
- weird-ass happenings when people drugged me.

2. LDR
- Oh God, never again. Nevermore. Oh, Lord, Nevermore. A. Colossal. Mistake. Cut loss, cut loss, I should have told my younger self. Don’t throw in more money after the bad!

3. Sans-mere-sans-pere to sharing a living space again.
- Pay was so low that I prefer to save and not rent.
- Mere et pere excellent at playing the guilt card whenever I mention “moving out”.

4. Stress of urban commuting.
- rudeness and bad vibes.
- incessant chatter. It took me five years to decide to shell out for an iPod — as Janice could see I was using a decade-old Panasonic CD player.

BUT

Whining aside, this was the place that gave me the opportunities I had. Mawkish old me. I hear the sirens of the Roll-Your-Eyes-Cheese police…but it *is* a happy story. So many of us kids, like Cinderella waiting to go to the ball :) I’ll always remember how I was so excited over the Brown catalogue when I was a high-school teen, then heading over to the bookstores and libraries and checking out every single guide book I could once I realised they gave me the scholarship. Fast forward to junior year, when I headed to the Brown bookstore and checked out every single England book…then planning for the Paris/Nice/Italy trip with G and S when we were in England.

Even now, I complain that I’m poor as a churchmouse, but the reality is I can afford to go flying off on breaks now and then, buying artwork in Hanoi, shopping at Uluwatu Lace in Bali, eating at yuppie restaurants. I decry the “Lifestyle” — but the truth is I’m about as bourg and middle-class as they come.

*

A: The truth is, many boring buy-side people have interesting and cool sell-side friends.

B (on someone she terms the Yale Toady): I can’t deal with them! We went to a treehugging school! We befriend animals! I just want to cry!

Oh no not now
Please not now
I just settled into the glass half empty
Made myself at home
And so why now
Please not now
I just stopped believing in happy endings
Harbors of my own

But you had to come along didn’t you
Tear down the doors, throw open windows
Oh if you knew just what a fool you have made me

So what do I do with this?

This stray Italian greyhound
These inconvenient fireworks
This ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive thought
God I just want to lay down
These colors make my eyes hurt
This feeling calls for everything that I am
Not

I’m not that kind
I’m so good at shooting down any notion
This tired world could change
It’s all been bought
Or at least that was my line
No use in spending all that emotion
When there’s someone else to blame

But you had to come along didn’t you
Rev up the crowd, rewrite the rule book
Where do I go when every ‘no’ turns into ‘maybe’

So what do I do with this?

This sudden burst of sunlight
And me with my umbrella
Cross-indexing every weatherman’s report
I was ready for the downslide
But not for spring to well up
This feeling calls for everything I can’t afford
To know
Is possible now

What do I do
With a love that won’t sit still
Won’t do what it’s told
What do I do
With a love that won’t sit still

IT CHEERS me up! I can be pretty cynical; it’s part of the territory when you used to be a journalist — but yes, am still a sentimental sap beneath it all.

*

A (on shooting a ranting monologue): Argh! Somehow when the camera’s on I couldn’t do it!
B: Filming porn again, A?

A: She said my pasta tastes good.
B: She said what? Her pastor? What?
A: Pasta! Linguine!

C (on walking a dog): It’s so nice to take it out.
B: C! What are you doing? Taking it out in public? Don’t shock the children!
C: Now you’re just sick.

C: You know, you look like the cutesy Asian girl. You wear cheongsams. You flick your long hair. You look so frail men rush to open doors for you. Then you open your mouth.
B: I think of it as balancing yin and yang. We’re all part angel and part animal…subnormal animal.

D (on cutting her hair): I used to look normal. Now I look like a member of a Beatles tribute band.

*

Was talking to a guy friend who’s breaking up with his partner. “The soulcrushing grind of needless arguing,” he says. I know how it is…you become withdrawn, stoical and would rather do nothing than provoke confrontation.

Many of the guys I know are very sweet creatures who don’t go into battle over every challenge. They’re not very good fighters. Conflict causes them to…shut down. They kind of become inarticulate when things heat up; when they feel attacked they detach. And emotional withdrawal is always a sign that the relationship is in trouble.

Being hot-tempered myself (I’ve been known to leave smoking footprints as I stride off into the sunset), it’s good to learn to rein in that hair-trigger rage and learn how Not To Destroy the other party when we fight. Too much conflict is fatal…it’s a better idea to walk away for the moment and cool down. Relentless criticism is like poison.

It’s day-to-day exchange of goodwill that gets people through tough moments. Building on a bank of happy memories.

Flowers brighten up this fluffette’s day

I’M SUCH a fluffette I like books like French Women Don’t Get Fat…Reading a book on What French Women Know (ISBN 978-0-399-15562) now (I know. I know. Shut up! I left Crime And Punishment on the shelf today, okay? :) ) and thought this applies to Singaporean people as well:

Anne-Marie, who has been teaching French to students in Los Angeles for more than twenty years, offers this obeservation: “My American students are very detached from the real world and very squeamish. They are so used to the fake or the processed that when they see the real thing, they don’t get it. Or when they see the fake, they think it’s the real thing. When I teach them the origin of the word “ham” in French — jambon — for example, I tell them that it means leg. When you eat ham, you are eating the leg of the pig. “Oh, gross! Don’t gross us out!” is what the kids always scream. And I ask them, “Do you think that pigs grow in slices? Where do you think ham comes from?” The kids are grossed out by almost anything that is not hygienically sealed up. There is a disconnect from nature, and that becomes a disconnect from the senses, from the sensual world overall.

pp. 167-8

I believe this is the difference between someone like Julie Delpy and Jennifer Aniston. I dislike the calculated perfection of many American celebrities, and prefer sensual disarray and accidental allure of someone who is a little off-beat, quirky, a little dishevelled, and knows how to let her hair down. Gimme a reprief from the straight rebonded hair, the neurotic overexercising, the perfect make-up — and give me someone who takes real pleasure in life, in dancing, eating, laughing.

*

I know my main site has atrophied, but I’ve just added a couple of new recipes.

*

“Kind hearts are the gardens;
kind thoughts are the roots;
kind words are the flowers;
kind deeds are the fruits.”

— English Proverb

THINGS YOU’D LOVE TO SAY OUT LOUD AT WORK:

1. I can see your point, but I still think you’re full of shit.
2. I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.
3. How about never? Is never good for you?
4. I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.
5. I’m really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way.
6. I’ll try being nicer if you’ll try being smarter.
7. I’m out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message.
8. I don’t work here. I’m a consultant.
9. It sounds like English, but I can’t understand a damn word you’re saying.
10. Ahhh…I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again…
11. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.
12. You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
13. I have plenty of talent and vision; I just don’t give a damn.
14. I’m already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.
15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
16. Thank you. We’re all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.
17. The fact that no one understands you doesn’t mean you’re an artist.
18. Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.
19. What am I? Flypaper for freaks?!
20. I’m not being rude. You’re just insignificant.
21. It’s a thankless job, but I’ve got a lot of Karma to burn off.
22. Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
23. And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be..?
24. Do I look like a people person?
25. This isn’t an office. It’s Hell with fluorescent lighting.
26. I started out with nothing and still have most of it left.
27. If I throw a stick, will you leave?
28. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
29. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
30. I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
31. A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.
32. Can I trade this job for what’s behind door #1?
33. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
34. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
35. Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
36. Chaos, panic and disorder-my work here is done.
37. How do I set a laser printer to stun?
38. I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted a salary.
39. Who lit the fuse on your tampon?
40. Oh I get it…like humor…but different.

From Jonathan Carroll

*

To read: Alan Bennett: The History Boys and Untold Stories.

History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with the buckets.

— Alan Bennett, The History Boys