Manifesto

So it's come to this. Now in Choose your own adventure: Malaysian politics we find not only, "Whoops! There goes your integrity," and, "Some random dude accuses you of some random sexual misdemeanor," but also, "Your aide falls to his death. Cause unknown."

A week ago I commented that things like this made me wonder whether I actually want to go into politics, to which Pa said: "Unless a grain of wheat falls ..." I had been flippant; he was grave. And he upended my mood as surely as I killed that last sentence.

But yes, I've been thinking and praying hard about a life in politics. Electoral politics. As leery as I am of presuming the future, and as much as the idea of The Career Politician rankles me, I am finally ready to dispense with the, "Aiya no lah, maybe, but see how one," and acknowledge this as a tangible prospect.

I can't quite nail down the origins of this political fancy. A long time ago (in this galaxy, sadly) a personality test declared that I was a DominantExtrovertedAbstractThinker and hence an ideal politician, but it was an American assessment, so ... nevermind. And then over those self-conscious years a few of Ma's friends commented that I'd make a good diplomat or politician, to which a gracious sibling would usually note the likelihood of me dropping a peace treaty on someone's toes.

At this point, I still don't know how one goes about becoming a politician. I have no idea which (opposition) party I would join. But regardless of how pleasurable ordered files and efficient operations may be, I'm convinced that I wouldn't find more than a couple of years in corporate (or, by extension, Singapore) fulfilling. The 24-hour news cycle is similarly dessicated. I refuse to become a pastor (or to marry one). I lack the specialised patience that academia demands.

Which is not to say that there aren't a ton of other options. I feel like a prig for having this many options in the first place. Every time we roadtripped during freshman year, I'd have humourously existential moments along the highway: whoa. So I'm in another country. Why me? Why didn't all my brilliant friends land scholarships too? What do I do with this? WheredoIgofromhereaaaalifeGodaaaah!

Anyhoo. Alternatives or none, we're all told that it's about Doing What You Lurve, which may not sound entirely right, but whatever. I love God, although He totally owns me at loving. (Oh dear Donne territory.) I love people and words, but those are good at finding different outlets. And I love Malaysia, for all her infuriating gawky beauty.

I also adore talking, relish the mutual acquaintance game, like pretty clothes and shiny things, am acutely aware of what other people might be thinking (note: awareness ≠ accuracy), unintentionally sound passive-aggressive, argue for beliefs that I don't profess because of friends whom I don't want derided -- all traits that may not be inherently wrong, but which can be distracting, pointless and hurtful in practice. And useful in public life.

It terrifies me, the self-aggrandizement in this post. I hardly think it'll be an inevitable ascent; many of my friends wouldn't call it an ascent at all. There are also odd questions of agency here: I am heading along this trajectory because I want to/think I have to/am meant to/should, please circle one.

When friends think I'm insane because I pray, I sometimes tell them that I find it easiest to be sure God is speaking to me when I feel strongly that I should do something I didn't initially want to do, but in retrospect am very thankful for.

Which of course doesn't help my case -- or my own faith in my sanity -- but it makes sense. Like taking Arabic instead on French or Russian: I'd thought of majoring in comparative lit; now Islamic law might be on the post-college horizon. Like taking myself off the Columbia/Chicago/Middlebury/Yale waitlists and going to Williams. Like taking myself off the Williams in Oxford waiting list and spending this next semester in SOAS then returning to campus to oversee the newspaper, insha'Allah.

With both waiting list episodes, it's almost like God let me save face and, well, choose my own adventure instead of accept-this-blessing-or-else. It's such a typically glorious paradox that submitting to Him is asserting my independence, because He made us to have wills like His.

For a couple of months I've been mulling over the passage where Jacob wrestles with a man and refuses to let go till the man blesses him, only the man turns out to be God. It's a weird story, but it grips me. And I don't know if politics is the blessing that I want. I don't know where what I want ends and God's will starts. But I do know that if He wants me in politics, He'll make sure that I have everything that I need for the fray.

I know I'll need people who sit me down and point out all my cretin/ditz moments, and then hug me and tell me that I'm not a stupid ugly bitch. One of my best friends, who pushed me to think seriously about politics last summer, will probably be a rakan seperjuangan. I don't know who the others will be, but if God means for me to live out that nebulous political future, He'll figure it out.

Heck, if I genuinely need it, He could arrange that I only trip over bigwigs who'd find it endearing. (Power trip hurhur.) (We'll see if God manages to do anything about the classless comments.)

I have nothing to lose but my chains. I may have a vote to win. So help me God.

And I can't believe that I am about to hit "publish post".