The writing on the toilet wall

If there was one difference I had to name between the toilets in Singapore and Melbourne, it would not be about the hot water or its cleanliness.
It would be about all the writings on the toilet walls. It was a particular cubicle that set me thinking.

Amidst the scrawls of customary profanity, there was an ongoing argument about the Middle East and Iraq war written by different occupants of a certain cubicle. It occurred to me the absurdity of the situation; World issues being debated on toilet walls while the respective authors micturated and defecated, occasionally pushing drugs up their veins.

Let's also not forget the bloodstained scribbles from heartbroken lovers, the lesbian proclaiming to be true to yourself and the political activist screwing John Howard spreading sedition (I did not need that visual man).

I present to you the advice column Ask Miss Toilet. Oh yes, the story of the girlfriend who’s not ready and so confused she asked the toilet for help. The random occupants of the toilet in their painful release, would vehemently write a hundred reasons why she should dump her worthless boyfriend. Sometimes its about physical abuse or suicide. Some misguided ass would then give the unsettling reply of death is the only answer. All these writings have one thing in common; utter desperation.

The extremely personal nature of the writings always strikes me as odd. Reflected on toilet walls, these writings are disturbingly cries of help.

The writings on the toilet walls represent the unspoken and hidden thoughts of our generation. The unanswered questions that plague the minds of our youth. The cries of loneliness that people ignore. The shortcomings of our society splashed on toilet walls.

The world is a crazy place.

Muslims have inhabited the richest lands in the world for thousands of years. Yet Muslims are also amongst the poorest in the world. Oil is the most sought after resource, yet the corrupted leaders do not harness the power of this black gold that God has gifted their lands. They trade their gold with other more corrupt leaders forsaking the welfare of their people, rendering them ill-educated and poor. The wealth meant for the poor accumulate in their pockets. They wage war, brother against brother, for black gold, that should have been the cement of their Muslim brotherhood. They have the means to be the superpower, yet they are now servants to other superpowers. They have the means to help the poorest in the world and give to charity, yet they are the ones begging for charity.

In case you were wondering about my sudden flight of ideas, that was my writing on the toilet wall.

To me, the writings on the toilet wall are my thoughts, questions and frustrations though not often spoken out loud, are always within me constipating my thoughts. And everyone, I like to think, has a writing on the toilet wall.

And this space is essentially verbal diarrhoea.

I’m sure you would notice that the toilet walls in Singapore are clean and void of free speech.And it's this lack of space to voice our opinions that will slowly burn and fester threatening to burst at its seams and finally breaking free. Its so insidious that when it happens, people would question how was it possible?

Despite its title, I do not plan to always write about my dissatisfactions with myself, society and this world. For though I may appear to be the frustrated and disillusioned girl, I do still worry about frivolous things like whether I should get that MNG top that’s been haunting my dreams lately.

I have included my favourite posts from my previous blog in this month's archive. Or if you prefer, click on The Outdated Jamban at the bottom right for the 2005 archives. Feel free to browse. I value your comments; friend, stranger or foe. That's the great thing about this blog. You can masquerade and freely comment without anyone knowing who you are.

I'm still figuring out how to link my comments as Recent Comments on the side bar like the feature available on Friendster. It took me ages to design this blogskin even with the help of a html generator. Anyway if some computer genius out there would help me figure out the html for the recent comments link, I would be eternally in your debt. Scratch that, I’ll treat you to coffee.