Everyone dies, but no one ever really lives

This post is about freedom. Freedom as in what a twenty-something year old male Singaporean living in post 2000-millennium-celebrations really wanted. As opposed to William Wallace's grandiose-martyrdom that were depicted in his small and obscure postmortem flick, in which some barbaric leader of a small minority tribe incidentally uttered some unmemorable lines which goes on to inspire the totally mundane title of this post. As opposed to the type of Kopitiam chatters among taxi drivers whose idea of freedom, since money is really the root of all evil, is to remove money from the equation, or at least dream to settle the bill without looking at the bottom line. As opposed to a certain telcom's gimmicky slogan, whose adverts led me to believe that Singaporeans lives revolve solely around cell phones, TVs and the internet (wait a minute..) and to be free really means having another way to pay your bills.

My freedom is simpler: I just want to swim. I think about dabbling around the pool, mocking back at the equatorial sun whilst splashing chlorinated water, enjoying the view of PRC bikini- cladded babes, fantasizing I'm Michael Phelps-- doing frog style nonetheless, all these while listening to laughters of children. What else could a guy wish for? I'm working eight-thirty to six for the past five days, and now, I just want to swim. Without worries. Peace.

Then of course, something must have had happened that sparked off the creation of this post: I couldn't find my swimming trunks. And being a twenty something year old, male, means I cannot step into the pool. But c'mon, this is Singapore! Just a few hundred years ago, it's used to be a small sleepy fishing village. And the last time I checked, being an island really means being covered with water. Aren't we forgetting our roots here? No trunks mean no swimming in public pools? What nonsense is that? (And which smart Alec invented the swimming trunks anyway? Why do we need specialized cloth shaped exactly the same as our underwear?)

Stupid rules.

So my point is, freedom to me, really means doing away with stupid rules. Not in the sense of William Wallace's, whose era dictates that all Scottish with funny accents are exploitable. Not saying that freedom means free grub -- we all still need to be responsible for all the food we ate. But eradicate these stupid old rules! Like swimming trunks. Like formal wears. Like 7:30 schools. Like waking up in the morning. Like social stigmas. Like priority seats in MRTs. Like monday to friday work. Like education.