I think I can safely say that we all are guilty of falling into certain amusing fantasies.

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For me, the most common fantasy I seem to perpetually relive is imagining myself in a music video or as a character in a song as I look out the bus window on my way to school.  This occurs particularly during the bridge of Coldplay’s, Fix You or when I hear the opening static of Pink Floyd’s, Wish You Were Here. And in these brief moments of childish and lucid escape – I forget certain things, I forget how late for school I am or where my next tutorial is being held. I forget that I am school bound for the next few hours of my life.

And when I am broken out of my quiet moment of delusion and disillusion, I often question why I am on the path I currently am. I wonder why sometimes I spend my Friday nights in school or why I unsuccessfully try to figure out the decisions of the courts. I admit I am not even close to being within the meaning of the word ‘studious’. There are however a vast number of people in our school who fastidiously and consciously dedicate themselves to the letter of the law and the nuances of jurisprudence. The lingering question is why we do as such? The human question that we often fail to see is the idea that we delude ourselves.

I sincerely believe in my own assertion of an opinion that we ought and should find a reason or an answer to the above-mentioned question. I know for me the issues I have with my own answer pertains to dedication, discipline and in the loosest meaning of the word, belief.

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I believe in very few things. I don’t exactly prescribe to the idea of religion, I don’t seem to yet fully believe in the letter of the law or in my convictions of why I am pursing the current course of study. One of the few the things I do have an inclination of believe is the notion of history.

History riddles the halls of our school, of great minds and greater people who have walked where we walked, who have stood in our places and sat in our seats.. Who haunt our corridors and who linger in the shadows of our rooms. It is the history that cases and court decisions create incidentally and accidentally. It is the history of the world we revel and live in.

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But perhaps a flaw in the plan that often occurs is that we seek to emulate history to be the next Andrew Phang or Ho Peng Kee. That however is not the purpose or the reach of history. The people who have changed the world did not seek to emulate history. They sought to change it. They have carved their names into the annals of history and in turn have sliced out a portion of immortality.

People often make this assumption that history is something we should re-look, codify, affirm and discard. But history is not so, it never ceases – it tears itself screaming from the corpse of time, and in screaming it beckons the new age. We should not seek to emulate history but craft it.

So then, what do I seek from history?

Personally I want to travel the world, to relive in the histories and past stories of people who have shaped the world. To travel to and from the nations that are dying and are haunted. And I want to wear a white suit in Monte Carlo as I visit the Monaco Grand Prix or attempt to gild lady luck in the hallowed casino of Monte Carlo.

Sure, I could wear white suit in Singapore and venture into Marina Bay Sands or watch our recreation of the Grand Prix.  Just as surely as you could attempt to eat soup with a fork – an act in which you may succeed, but would unwillingly look idiotic in attempting. I would not want to emulate a man in a white suit but be the man in the white suit.

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So my dear reader, you can only wear a white suit in Monte Carlo. And perhaps I have realized that the path I am currently on would afford and allow me to live in this ridiculous fallacy of mine. And just maybe I have found my belief in those Friday nights and in the numerous pages of our readings. I hope that one day you’ll find yours as well, and for the lucky few who have, I wish you the kindest of luck.

Yours Always,

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