In Continuum.

Me, The Entrepreneur

There were four of us on the bus home this afternoon as the winds filtered through the opened windows on the bus, bringing with it that dreadful summer heat. You start to wonder how the weather today just seemed strangely out of place, very much like how this entry may seem like to the readers, a breath of fresh air amidst the poisonous fumes - my depression. I don't suppose anybody should dwell in their depression for too long, allowing the emotions to eat yourself from the inside out. School was fine today, perhaps a little too ordinary after a weekend such as the one I had. But I guess everything becomes relative, and I am now able to appreciate little things more, even if it means that I have to have strange conversations with my three other friends, concerning about business venture in school. We were so involved in the conversation that it almost seemed as if we were actually going to do it. From the looks in their eyes, I thought I saw hints of seriousness there, the way amateur singer-songwriters would right before a gig that's suppose to earn you a record deal. It was just the four of us sitting at the front of the bus, with ideas reaching out into the seamless horizons.

You can say that it was the entrepreneur genes inside of me speaking, but there I was giving most of the ideas today. I must thank my father, if any of these random and abstract ideas do come true one day, because he is the businessman of the family, I am not. I remember him sitting down next to me on a random Saturday afternoon, and asked me what I wanted to do after my university studies. That was a long time ago, back in those days when I was still trotting through swamps and bushes, surviving my life by the week instead of the years ahead which was veiled in a thick smog then. I told him about wanting to be a writer, or any profession that allows me to write my head off day and night. He sort of went against that in a joking manner, and said that artists are never rich enough to satisfy their stomachs. "Just our heads," I replied. Just our heads.

I have no idea why I came up with the idea today, but there I was being enthusiastically involved in a conversation that nobody would expect me to be involved in. Kean was the young, eccentric guy in the group, shooting off his ideas like a machine gun that's out of control most of the time. MJ was there, mapping out the possibilities and feasibilities of the project, calculating the amount of money he would need to save up during his national service days. Sean was the guy who is willing to get down and dirty with the proposals and the negotiations, and I was the mastermind of it all - the boss that orders people around with just enough money to spare. We had it all planned out right there at the front of the bus, who would do what and how would our plan materialize, and I must say that it was quite a conversation we had without pulling in the inevitable topic of national service, every time we are together.

I had a dream when I was a little younger, before the idea of being a writer even crossed my mind. I remember in November of 2005 during my longest blog hiatus ever since it started, I was sitting in a comfortable cafe with Sarah, with a bunch of graffiti drawn on the walls, and that faint scent of baked fish in the air. The cafe was Gone Fishing, and I remember sitting in the corner of the cafe with a bunch of kids playing chess on the other side of the aisle. It was a great place I must say, tucked away in the corner of Singapore and away from all the bustling crowd. Despite that, the cafe never lost its popularities amongst the locals, and certainly not from the people that has heard about the cafe one way or another. There was something about the cafe that kept on drawing people in, and it must have been how much it feels like home for the customers, despite being away from their own homes. I liked that cafe, because I could draw whatever I want - save for vulgarities - on the walls and the owner of the cafe would just simply smile at me. It was a tradition of the cafe to have customers write random comments or pictures on the walls, and the impression of the cafe remained in my mind for some time, until I decided to open a cafe when I am old and retired, living off my retirement funds in my late sixties or seventies.

But it seems like that dream may come true a little earlier than expected. That was the idea that the four of us were throwing about between us, like excited school boys who has just mixed vinegar and baking powder together for the very first time. I'm sure people in my school now have seen that big piece of empty space right next to the computer labs, the open air one on the rooftop right above the student lounge on the fifth floor. We've all passed by that place, and might have even crossed the empty space to get to the other block while trying to hop over a million puddles of dried up bird poop. All four of us believe that there should be some use to that empty space, rather than it being a place for the collection of bird droppings. It has a nice view of the highway five floors below, and then the forest beyond the highway as well. When the wind direction is right, it provided a great place for people to enjoy the breeze, while studying to a cup of coffee or tea. It was the perfect place in school to set up a cafe of some sort, outdoors and away from the rest of the school.

There is something wrong with the school, and it is not difficult to notice once you have been here for a long enough time. The school is way too small, and there are just way too many people. More often than not, you are not going to find a place in school whereby you can just hangout with your friends before the next class begins. Finding a seat in the canteen is a challenge by itself, not to mention the fact that the school has a serious shortage of studying tables along the corridors. I suppose being a private institution, the school wanted as many students as possible per semester just to cover the high cost of maintenance, and that has cost the students precious time as we try to find somewhere to hangout or study. How many times have we found a packet of tissue paper on the table as a method of booking the seat by some inconsiderate pricks? We've all experienced those while carrying a hot bowl of soup in our hands, and let's admit it - we are all sick and tired of this very Singaporean culture.

So the cafe at the top of the school is going to be outdoors, somewhat like the Coffee Bean outside Wheelock's Place, or the Starbucks outside Plaza Singapura. There'd be a giant umbrella or a tent of sorts, and the tables would be placed beneath it, with fans fixated on the pillars to provide artificial wind. A counter would be placed in the corner of the place, and that'd be where the drinks and food will be served. Anybody who frequents a Starbucks is going to realize that this setting is very similar to a common Starbucks around the world, but I don't suppose there is a need to be different, as we are not trying to compete with them, but only ourselves. Students would be able to visit this cafe in their own time, and sit there with a cup of coffee for however they want. Of course, the music in the cafe is going to be dictated by me, and only me.

Sean and MJ has expressed their interests in the subject, while Kean's words sort of flew over my head, the way his words usually do in his presence. Sean volunteered to write a proposal and to interview our future employees, while MJ is also willing to save a portion of his national service income on this project, especially when he is going to earn a truckload of money at SCDF, I'm sure. Well, I am going to sit back in an air-conditioned office somewhere and order people around with my mouth. That is because, I was born to be a person with a lot of ideas, and money isn't exactly a problem in my life right now. Getting down and dirty to make the arrangements is really not my kind of thing, and laziness is really the chief reason why I've decided to remain in the office and not out there at ground zero. I work better in comfort and never in unfavorable conditions, and an air-conditioned office is certainly my cup of tea, at anytime of any day.

It was amusing just how involved the four of us got, but I guess it mattered little if we are going to conceive this plan anytime soon. We do have about three years left in this school, and we have plenty of time to make it happen. It'd be a great way to leave something behind when we graduate, and this project may even be able to substitute some of the business modules that I might need to take. You see, business modules are business modules because they are supposed to teach you how to do businesses, or become an entrepreneur. If you are able to replace those boring lectures and mundane homeworks with an actual money-making venture in school, I do suppose that it is possible to negotiate with the school to excuse us from future modules. It shouldn't matter if our business takes off or not, because half of business is about failing in it, anyway.

It is a far-fetched dream, but a dream nonetheless. Like the grossly humid weather on this strange November afternoon, I felt desperately out of place in the group of friends, being the only student from Communication Studies while the others are from Business and Administration. They are supposed to be the experts in this field, and I am supposed to be the person visiting the cafe, to observe the little trivial verbal and non-verbal cues between people. I am supposed to be that person, and not the man behind the curtain. But I guess, it is always interesting to engage in a conversation like that, every once in a while. Attract enough people, and we might just start this thing off for real, who knows? In this school with my bunch of friends, everything just seems possible. For now, I don't suppose my dream as an entrepreneur is going to happen anytime soon, and I am going to stick with being a writer, as I am currently trying to achieve as I type this entry. But who knows, really. Who knows? Me, the entrepreneur. The idea sounds strangely, but surely, good.