I was watching a Chinese variety program 50公里桃花屋 (titled Wonderland in English) and there was a ‘game’ where the celebs went to speak in a mic at the open sea in Hainan. What is acceptable in chinese culture is a little strange in the more westernised programs. In variety shows like this, it appears that to encourage strong emotions, especially crying or wailing, is more than acceptable – it drives up the viewership. This explains a bit why 琼瑶 films make consistent appearance during the 80s. Every reality show or competition based program will have a segment to encourage high emotions. However, since the reality program has a number of celebs who won’t talk about their boyfriends/girlfriends, can’t talk about their friends who might be in the same industry, can only talk about their parents. It seemed very acceptable to create high emotions when speaking of their parents and their sacrifices. It is ok to speak of the difficult childhood but the appearance of filial piety win much more acceptance. This is in deep contrast to online chatter in Singapore. There is a lot of angst around narcissistic parents or emotionally unavailable parents so much so that one would have thought a generation of orphans abandoned to grandparents or maids, or being abused on a daily basis.  In all societies, there will be parents who are unable to parent – however the magnitude of such conversation online does not match up to the kind of parenting I have observed in everday life. At most, the feeling of being overwhelmed by parents is likely caused by a lack of space and distance due to geog.

I wondered after turning off the television – more accurately youtube – if I felt sorry for myself, or my upbringing. I have always felt that my friends and my husband had a childhood. I only remembered beatings and piano lessons and homework. Older, I remember the favouritism that my parents practiced. I remember them but it is now so far away I don’t remember those feelings I felt when I was a child. It is as if I am watching someone else’s reel and it is not incredibly interesting. A friend of mine has always complained how robotic I am, and sometimes when she explains how much feelings she has, I am so surprised that there are so much emotions bubbling within a person.  My feelings when they present themselves, are not layered and conflicted but exist the way a primary school child might describe them in a 500 word composition. I am not made of stone, I will often times complain but it sounds like a complain I’ve overheard on a train from a stranger to the friend. Nothing creative or new.