Masks

If you've ever worked in retail or any environment with an emphasis on customer service, you can probably tell where I'm going with this post. Masks are what we wear when we serve the public, a face we put on to look professional.

What I find fascinating is that the masks tend to usually be the same. Friendly demeanour, just wants to get the job done. It’s almost as if it comes as part of the uniform.

I feel the presence of this metaphorical mask at work myself. When I see people I know come through, slipping into friendly dialogue doesn’t come instantly — it feels like I have to put a conscious effort to snap out of the persona I’ve placed on myself to be sociable. It’s strange.

So anyway, enough rambling — here’s a poem reflecting on the idea of masks.

Masks

Into shops we shuffle,

our wallets on a binge

for comfort foods stocked by

skin stuffed with porcelain

Found amidst the checkouts,

where time loses its pace

a figure stands, eyelashes

all ribboned up with lace

Words are always spoken

but the mask is hot with day

or night, it matters not

the sentence stays the same

 

Thanks for reading, Dean.

Read More

Water

When writing this post, I had a craving for some Pepsi. It’s probably out of habit, or the fact that I might be slightly addicted, but this time I managed to grab a glass of water instead. This doesn’t usually happen. Normally, I grab a can of Pepsi after work and another after dinner. Water? Who needs water when you can get a nice refreshing taste of fizz instead? That’s what my brain tells me. I understand it’s not the healthiest mindset to have, but it’s there nonetheless.

To me, water is undervalued; regularly underestimated. Since my job involves being on my feet, I find myself drinking a lot of water to stay hydrated (which has my mind justifying the whole idea of drinking Pepsi as a “reward” when I get back home). Besides from requiring a bathroom break every other half an hour, I don’t really notice it when I’m hydrated.  This is compared to Pepsi, or coffee/tea, where an hour of energy then leads to two hours of lethargy.

It’s crazy. Water is literally the only drink that doesn’t do anything bad after consumption. If the water is contaminated, then obviously you’re in for a rough night. But compare water to every other drink out there. Excessive tea can heighten anxiety. Juice damages teeth. Alcohol causes all sorts. Not everyone can drink milk straight, and milk isn’t as accessible as water.

What does water do? Its common knowledge how beneficial water is: it hydrates. Hydration is like a bonus skill in a video game which makes you immune to a lot of stuff. It’s insane. Dry skin? Not if my friend water has anything to say about it. Got a cold? Let me just stock up on water.

Then why isn’t everyone building statues of Evian and worshipping water as the rightful God it is? We all know why — water doesn’t taste like anything. It’s boring, you just drink it and then you’re done. If you’re in a restaurant enjoying a three-course meal, it’s a terrible sign for the restaurant if the highlight is the water.

Water is boring. No one likes boring. Go to a pub and only get a glass of water and there’s a large chance you’ll feel out of place. Go a day of work without caffeine and it’ll begin to feel like the hands on the clock are slowing down. Water never quite cuts it.

But it’s nothing except helpful. It’s the most beneficial drink out there, yet we regularly choose not to drink it. I don’t think we’re ignorant, we know well enough that water is healthy for us. It’s just that, whenever we have to choose, there’s always the feeling of something out there being more suited to the mood.

I’m not going to give advice on how you should drink more water. It’s common sense that I presume you’ll have heard a million times by now. Instead, I’ll give you this poem. 

An Ode To Water
This is an ode to water,
our natural elixir,
the bringer of hydration,
renowned hangover killer.
It floats in clouds and gushes
making rivers, oceans, lakes.
It brings life to the mountains,
to the forests, cities, plains.
From fish to birds, to lizards,
to the insects sipping dew;
to mammals, plants, this water
will provide us days anew.
We know water is tasteless,
that its look is rather tame,
but still we raise our glasses
for the drink that never takes.

Dean Tsang, 2017.

Read More

Building Bridges

My history skills aren’t quite polished, so when I was given the theme of Building Bridges, my mind immediately jumped to the expression, the idea where two different people compromise to create something new. When I think of actual, physical bridges, I imagine structures which are valued on their flexibility. Some are stubborn, uncompromising and can withstand practically anything. Others, which you often see in chase scenes set in a jungle are less stable, more adventurous and the worst nightmare for those afraid of heights.

 

                                                                                                                                                 While two people can definitely reconcile and build a bridge between them, to me I normally see the term associated with larger collectives or organisations, working together to qualm a conflict in ideology. But as good as the idea is, you don’t really see it happen that often. When I was at university, there was a battle being waged between the chancellor and the rest of the academic staff. Now, instead of mutually working to build a bridge, the chancellor simply continued to raise her own wage while not really spending the university budget on issues that affected the wider community. And then after her damage had been done, she resigned. But this is an issue you’ll see in many places, in various academic institutions, in workplaces, politics (once a blue moon!) and in friendship groups.

                                                                                                                                                     
 The poem I include here today focuses on the bridges, but also on their effect on the people around them. The act of compromise between two otherwise different groups is something extraordinary in itself. But when you begin to apply its effects on the individuals around them, then imagining its scale becomes impossible. I hope the poem does the topic justice!

The Bridge

Two hands shake,

the fingers spin and weave a silky

wooden metal

A structure

that allows silhouettes to glide

across the water

A road in the sky

for the traffic jams to spread

through toasted heat like butter

A meeting spot

for birds to catch

the gentle wind and waves

And a shelter for the creatures

light had tucked away

Dean Tsang

Read More