Week Eight Reflections!

Well, here I am again, sharing the on-goings in class. Class started with a feedback session of sorts on the audio dialogue assignment. One common difficulty we all had was finding a suitable host to upload the audio file to. Being the first class in the week to have storytelling lesson meant we spent a substantial amount of time troubleshooting. Eventually, I remembered a host, and tried it. Fortunately, for everyone, it worked and some of us uploaded the files there. But this was only after we have finished our sharing of the assignment.

Ryan asked for our feedback on the assignment. He asked if those of us who do not come from “nuclear families” find this assignment harder. He also wanted to know how we thought of it and whether it was a feasible assignment to incorporate into the syllabus in future.

Something else surfaced during class. Most of us did not use either of our parents to record the audio dialogue, though we were supposed to. I too, did not employ the help of my parents, as they are Mandarin speaking, and know limited spoken English.

After that, we watched Terminal Bar, a documentary set in New York City. It is about this bar situated opposite a bus terminal and the different types of people, usually derelicts and the like, that the owner (or bar manager) saw at the bar, and how they gradually change over the years.

He took photographs of them, and over the years, as he snapped more of their portraits, he realised how much they have changed. The documentary also tells me two things. Firstly, alcohol (and drugs, where applicable) really deteriorates your health rapidly, and this can be seen from how much your appearance has changed. Secondly, New York City is a scary place to live in. Bus terminals were (and probably still are) the seediest places in the city, and nobody would actually bat an eyelid even if they saw corspes on the sidewalks or pavements. They would just get on with their lives, seemingly oblivious that somebody has died on the streets.

I suppose it is part of culture shock as well. Imagine if somebody drops dead on the streets. You will see a crowd gathering around the body instantly. Everybody just wants to “kaypoh” and see who it is. Such is the stark contrast of living in different countries, different cities, different cultures.

I shudder at the thought of how cold the New Yorkers may seem to be. But I also realise that death on the streets is such commonplace in NYC that it does not affect them emotionally and pscyhologically anymore. It makes me think about where I would want to live, if I do not intend to continue living in Singapore one day…

You can find my notes here.