Hmm, I'm feeling much less burdened now, but I'm still getting recurring headaches and there is a suspicious lump at the back of my ear... (twiddles thumbs, looks around). And I woke up today to find my right eye sore and puffy which caused a slight asymmetry in my face that was almost... cute. My body is aging prematurely. Or something.
Speaking of aging prematurely, sources have been telling me that my EL teacher calls my common test descriptive writing essay near-JC level. OK, I thought, maybe it would have taken a more sophisticated sentence structure to make fully it JC? Then to my surprise/horror, I find that it has received the honour of being a an open dictation passage— for my class and another class, which was really weird for me. Nearly everyone knows about it now, and the idea of celebrity intrigues me, especially since present-day stars cannot be correctly called good role models in absolute truth, and the issue of privacy and the paparazzi, and the hordes of screaming, adoring fans makes one wonder whether JK Rowling would ever pop down to the grocery down her street for a bottle of pop without being assaulted by the leering eyes of the judgemental public, or whether even Catherine Lim could go shopping for books at Kinokuniya without having to hold an impromptu autograph session, and grace a book club meeting perhaps? Etcetra. Thank goodness for online shopping, and the veil of ignorance that this generation shrouds on writers.
I think the beauty of keeping a blog is that you can write about any topic without the slightest fear or nervous apprehension that you would be judged and criticized for making spelling mistakes, syntax errors or going out of point. You will, however, be laughed at if you still speak in Twit, which is a good opportunity to clear up any fundamental errors of the English Language (for example, o is not the same of 0) before even moving on the relatively highly advanced applications of sentence formation.
I have an A Maths test tomorrow!! I want a 30/30 very badly.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Blah
Do people really see through you when you feel unhappy?
And, an unhappy person is a selfish, discontent, grumpy and insensitive person. So forgive me if I become overtly sarcastic in a trying way. Gawd, I'm so tired of everything. Even though the Investiture is over (and was so great) I'm still feeling dead-beat-tired-tranquilized-lifeless-whatever. OK maybe A Maths would cheer me up. And by the way in case no one had noticed too, I want a Gold for the SYF again. And this time I'm aiming for Gold with honours. I remember the teacher in charge telling us whether to do what we really want, or what our purpose is. Sometimes it feels as if we're making leaps of improvement with every practice. Most of the time I feel shitty and demoralized. Obviously this is not what I want, and obviously all the competition and repetition of 3 songs over and over again for half a year is fucking with my head. I'm starting to become socialist, with all the stress and dissatisfaction, argh.
Oh well, no one cares la.
And, an unhappy person is a selfish, discontent, grumpy and insensitive person. So forgive me if I become overtly sarcastic in a trying way. Gawd, I'm so tired of everything. Even though the Investiture is over (and was so great) I'm still feeling dead-beat-tired-tranquilized-lifeless-whatever. OK maybe A Maths would cheer me up. And by the way in case no one had noticed too, I want a Gold for the SYF again. And this time I'm aiming for Gold with honours. I remember the teacher in charge telling us whether to do what we really want, or what our purpose is. Sometimes it feels as if we're making leaps of improvement with every practice. Most of the time I feel shitty and demoralized. Obviously this is not what I want, and obviously all the competition and repetition of 3 songs over and over again for half a year is fucking with my head. I'm starting to become socialist, with all the stress and dissatisfaction, argh.
Oh well, no one cares la.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Urgh— it's 1.30 am and I've only just finished doing everything that I need to do.
AI LIAN TAO HUA YUAN WAS SOOOO GOOD!!!
(Note the rarity of me typing a complete sentence in caps.)
Sadly I had a throbbing headache on the right side of my temple then. During the last scene, where the two requited lovers in their old age at a hospital room, the slow, dramatic movements and minute and meticulous details that dragged the scene further only exacerbated my suffering and misery. By the time the strange women in a double-creasted pea coat danced and threw confetti/snow into the the air in momentus actions that were pregnant with a meaning that I presumed most of the audience could not understand but enjoyed anyway, I was starting to lose my balance (and I was sitting down too), having to resort to closing my eyes to avoid throwing up on the poor lady with the beehive hair and embarrassing husband in front of me.
Oh yes, have I mentioned how much I love that play?
I could not understand what the program booklet was explaining about two different plays, but in essence, the show is a rather comic one with two intertwined productions that are rehearsing at the same time. A sense of rawness is achieved when at the end of the 1st scene when dramatic farewells are made, the director cuts in and makes the actors redo the scene again. I think it breaks the 4th wall in some jokes, where some emphasis is placed on awareness of the theatre surroundings, and exposing even the backstage to indicate incompletion (to a very comic effect in Tao Hua Yuan).
It started off quite romantically, in 1930/40s Shanghai, where the moon never seemed to hide behind dark clouds and where the water seemed like a dream-pattern and where lovers sat by swings, whispering their endearing love for each other. OK, I cheated and read off the English subtitles— but I think Mandarin is such a poetic language. English is so flowery and painfully elaborate. Translated Mandarin sounds like minimalist poetry. Very Zen. Very evocative.
After they redo the first scene, characters dressed in very classical and dynasty-period clothing start wandering at the back of the stage. Only then do we realize that a seperate theatre company wants to use the stage as well. This time, they do Tao Hua Yuan, a very humorous farce on the classical folktale about a fisherman who discovers a land where 'petals fall and beasts live in harmony'. Something like that. This time, the fisherman has an adulterous wife and her lover who desire his death (though not in a proactive way). There is a running comment on the over-exaggeration of facial expressions, choreography and sound effects in the style of Chinese Opera that sometimes borders on sarcasm. It was really very funny, though perhaps some did not understand, anyway. Annoyingly, a dialect that is very foreign to me is used throughout the production so I had to rely heavily on the subtitles (perhaps having to dart my eyes around the stage to read and concentrate on the actions gave me that headache) that made some jokes less funny when told in English.
Resonance was one technique that was heavily used, Nelson told me after the show. There was certainly many themes that occurred in the beginning and at the end, for example, the girl 'has to go now because it's really very late', and the idea of things that cannot be forgotten. I did not understand the part where the young girl (young, in the past), flings angrily the letters of her lover (old, in the present) and accuses him of transforming Shanghai into what it is now. However, the use of nostalgia in the scene via low-fidelity Shanghainese songs played on the radio evokes quite an ethereal quality; one can almost empathize with the dying lover as he struggles to walk over to her, only to be shouted angrily at.
Speaking of nostalgia, I found myself showing Kat and Clarinda the 60th Anniversary Book in the office while waiting for our photocopies. It's that strange feeling of telling your grandchildren a story, or of looking back to the past and finding everything so recent, as if it was only last week when you were sec 1. Pointing at all the graduates and talking about them, laughing at the seniors' sec 1 photos, reminiscing the ups and downs of Mrs Low's era, the somewhat Golden Years of Xinmin's allocades. I kind of miss her now that she's with scgs, but still, Mdm Liew is like a breath of fresh air in Xinmin, focusing more on developing the individual rather than the name of the school.
I had two writing tests today! One English descriptive and a history test (essay question on WWI). I hope I can maintain my calibre and improve further, it isn't very encouraging to drop below the 25 mark range. Perhaps I could be crazy and aim for 30. Whatever. My spelling is atrocious for someone supposed to be good in EL. Then again, Shakespeare wasn't a good speller.
But I don't want to be like Shakespeare. I dislike being bald and being accused of not being the original writer of his works.
AI LIAN TAO HUA YUAN WAS SOOOO GOOD!!!
(Note the rarity of me typing a complete sentence in caps.)
Sadly I had a throbbing headache on the right side of my temple then. During the last scene, where the two requited lovers in their old age at a hospital room, the slow, dramatic movements and minute and meticulous details that dragged the scene further only exacerbated my suffering and misery. By the time the strange women in a double-creasted pea coat danced and threw confetti/snow into the the air in momentus actions that were pregnant with a meaning that I presumed most of the audience could not understand but enjoyed anyway, I was starting to lose my balance (and I was sitting down too), having to resort to closing my eyes to avoid throwing up on the poor lady with the beehive hair and embarrassing husband in front of me.
Oh yes, have I mentioned how much I love that play?
I could not understand what the program booklet was explaining about two different plays, but in essence, the show is a rather comic one with two intertwined productions that are rehearsing at the same time. A sense of rawness is achieved when at the end of the 1st scene when dramatic farewells are made, the director cuts in and makes the actors redo the scene again. I think it breaks the 4th wall in some jokes, where some emphasis is placed on awareness of the theatre surroundings, and exposing even the backstage to indicate incompletion (to a very comic effect in Tao Hua Yuan).
It started off quite romantically, in 1930/40s Shanghai, where the moon never seemed to hide behind dark clouds and where the water seemed like a dream-pattern and where lovers sat by swings, whispering their endearing love for each other. OK, I cheated and read off the English subtitles— but I think Mandarin is such a poetic language. English is so flowery and painfully elaborate. Translated Mandarin sounds like minimalist poetry. Very Zen. Very evocative.
After they redo the first scene, characters dressed in very classical and dynasty-period clothing start wandering at the back of the stage. Only then do we realize that a seperate theatre company wants to use the stage as well. This time, they do Tao Hua Yuan, a very humorous farce on the classical folktale about a fisherman who discovers a land where 'petals fall and beasts live in harmony'. Something like that. This time, the fisherman has an adulterous wife and her lover who desire his death (though not in a proactive way). There is a running comment on the over-exaggeration of facial expressions, choreography and sound effects in the style of Chinese Opera that sometimes borders on sarcasm. It was really very funny, though perhaps some did not understand, anyway. Annoyingly, a dialect that is very foreign to me is used throughout the production so I had to rely heavily on the subtitles (perhaps having to dart my eyes around the stage to read and concentrate on the actions gave me that headache) that made some jokes less funny when told in English.
Resonance was one technique that was heavily used, Nelson told me after the show. There was certainly many themes that occurred in the beginning and at the end, for example, the girl 'has to go now because it's really very late', and the idea of things that cannot be forgotten. I did not understand the part where the young girl (young, in the past), flings angrily the letters of her lover (old, in the present) and accuses him of transforming Shanghai into what it is now. However, the use of nostalgia in the scene via low-fidelity Shanghainese songs played on the radio evokes quite an ethereal quality; one can almost empathize with the dying lover as he struggles to walk over to her, only to be shouted angrily at.
Speaking of nostalgia, I found myself showing Kat and Clarinda the 60th Anniversary Book in the office while waiting for our photocopies. It's that strange feeling of telling your grandchildren a story, or of looking back to the past and finding everything so recent, as if it was only last week when you were sec 1. Pointing at all the graduates and talking about them, laughing at the seniors' sec 1 photos, reminiscing the ups and downs of Mrs Low's era, the somewhat Golden Years of Xinmin's allocades. I kind of miss her now that she's with scgs, but still, Mdm Liew is like a breath of fresh air in Xinmin, focusing more on developing the individual rather than the name of the school.
I had two writing tests today! One English descriptive and a history test (essay question on WWI). I hope I can maintain my calibre and improve further, it isn't very encouraging to drop below the 25 mark range. Perhaps I could be crazy and aim for 30. Whatever. My spelling is atrocious for someone supposed to be good in EL. Then again, Shakespeare wasn't a good speller.
But I don't want to be like Shakespeare. I dislike being bald and being accused of not being the original writer of his works.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Evening
My dad is contemplating to go for the Cambridge summer course, since he's eligible to take up the course (some english proficiency test thingy. Thingy. Thangy. Thingy. I think 'thingy' is such a flexible and multi-purpose word.)
OK, never mind, he says it's too expensive.
A pause. Now he's saying that it's not very expensive, afterall.
Inevitably, people will start marvelling at the suites in Cambridge. (Harvey Court B&B's only 660 punds for ten days, he proclaims.)
He makes a value-judgement: it may be expensive but it's a very good experience.
But we wouldn't be able to go with you, my mum says. Realization! Enlightenment!
"It's like paying $5,000 to study." If one equates studying as something intangible and extremely rewarding, $5,000 is probably just an insignificant amount in the process of learning. Literary workshops, evening poetry readings, Shakespeare studies I muse, obviously the air of intelligence and deep, mature levels of thoght and analysis are experiences that one cannot find growing on the random bougainvillea shrubbery; then there can never be a price tag attached to such treasures.
Switch off the air-con, he says, I'm saving up to go to Europe in July. A distant glimmer on a foggy sea at dawn; probably part of a picturesque scene, a common experience for the rest of the literary ilk.
So, if this is the level of exposure and thirst for the pursuit of one's interests that RI students, albeit old, old, old alumni, inculcate, then I say dammit, I've probably wasted a significant portion of my life tricking myself into self-deluded half-hearted activities that I have been forced upon with.
OK, never mind, he says it's too expensive.
A pause. Now he's saying that it's not very expensive, afterall.
Inevitably, people will start marvelling at the suites in Cambridge. (Harvey Court B&B's only 660 punds for ten days, he proclaims.)
He makes a value-judgement: it may be expensive but it's a very good experience.
But we wouldn't be able to go with you, my mum says. Realization! Enlightenment!
"It's like paying $5,000 to study." If one equates studying as something intangible and extremely rewarding, $5,000 is probably just an insignificant amount in the process of learning. Literary workshops, evening poetry readings, Shakespeare studies I muse, obviously the air of intelligence and deep, mature levels of thoght and analysis are experiences that one cannot find growing on the random bougainvillea shrubbery; then there can never be a price tag attached to such treasures.
Switch off the air-con, he says, I'm saving up to go to Europe in July. A distant glimmer on a foggy sea at dawn; probably part of a picturesque scene, a common experience for the rest of the literary ilk.
So, if this is the level of exposure and thirst for the pursuit of one's interests that RI students, albeit old, old, old alumni, inculcate, then I say dammit, I've probably wasted a significant portion of my life tricking myself into self-deluded half-hearted activities that I have been forced upon with.
Angsty Blue Radish
I've finally collected my IC. Now I've became more or less initiated into this nation of result-crazy queue-fetished overworked 'so that no one gets left behind' zombies. Whoops, was I being too truthful this time?
Interestingly, every time I see an IC, I start to picture it with a hole punched on the IC number. Morbid—I know—but I still can't erase memories of my grandaunt's IC and the matter-of-factly tone in which people like to say that it means so-and-so has died, signifying that he/she does not exist anymore, therefore the IC would be rendered useless.
How strange it seems that we need certificates and cards just to prove our very existence.
I've decided to chill-out tonight by reading Time magazines that I've borrowed from the library and reading Mrs Dalloway, since it has been sitting untouched and neglected by my bedside. Poor Mrs Dalloway.
Interestingly, every time I see an IC, I start to picture it with a hole punched on the IC number. Morbid—I know—but I still can't erase memories of my grandaunt's IC and the matter-of-factly tone in which people like to say that it means so-and-so has died, signifying that he/she does not exist anymore, therefore the IC would be rendered useless.
How strange it seems that we need certificates and cards just to prove our very existence.
I've decided to chill-out tonight by reading Time magazines that I've borrowed from the library and reading Mrs Dalloway, since it has been sitting untouched and neglected by my bedside. Poor Mrs Dalloway.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
7-acre Garden of Green Umbrellas
I have a headache on the last day of the holiday, gahh.
Ugh. I cringe when I watch the Arena. I cannot see how something so lacklustre and obviously unintelligent can be allowed to be televised. I feel uncomfortable when everyone starts commenting on amusing style or bitchy comebacks; I feel worse when more credit is given just for the laughter/cheers that are generated by one-liner rebuttals because that is a totally different representation from what A Debate really is about. And then everyone starts asking each other to repeat their questions and the opposing speaker would mock-furiously accuse everyone of not listening to her. My goodness—I've heard better comebacks from a tuna sandwich. Futhermore, 3/4 of the panel of judges are usually not debaters at all, so who are they to judge and criticize the speakers? Even if they wanted representation from the public, a majority of the panel should have some idea of the standard of a debate; instead they seem to be judging a mere quibble.
That said, however, the speakers seem more engaged now that they are more familiar with this style of debating. And Andrea isn't that stumbling block of wood now! Loyang had a more pleasing style but it wasn't fully taken advantage of when it started to sound like the angry bitching of a PMS-y teen towards the end. (Well frankly I would have responded that way too.) I'm quite excited about the finals of the Arena, but I think the winning team wouldn't be too surprising.
Ugh. I cringe when I watch the Arena. I cannot see how something so lacklustre and obviously unintelligent can be allowed to be televised. I feel uncomfortable when everyone starts commenting on amusing style or bitchy comebacks; I feel worse when more credit is given just for the laughter/cheers that are generated by one-liner rebuttals because that is a totally different representation from what A Debate really is about. And then everyone starts asking each other to repeat their questions and the opposing speaker would mock-furiously accuse everyone of not listening to her. My goodness—I've heard better comebacks from a tuna sandwich. Futhermore, 3/4 of the panel of judges are usually not debaters at all, so who are they to judge and criticize the speakers? Even if they wanted representation from the public, a majority of the panel should have some idea of the standard of a debate; instead they seem to be judging a mere quibble.
That said, however, the speakers seem more engaged now that they are more familiar with this style of debating. And Andrea isn't that stumbling block of wood now! Loyang had a more pleasing style but it wasn't fully taken advantage of when it started to sound like the angry bitching of a PMS-y teen towards the end. (Well frankly I would have responded that way too.) I'm quite excited about the finals of the Arena, but I think the winning team wouldn't be too surprising.
Last day already?!
(SORRY JOEY!!! I had already promised my sister eons ago to go shopping with her so I couldn't come to the party T_T)
Anyway.
Orchard road wasn't very crowded today (but Food Republic was still crowded; there is never a moment of silence in that place) which made movement so much less claustrophobic and hassled. Ok, I was planning to buy slippers this time, but the shop was closed. At least I now have the latest Decemberists' CD (proud) :)
Offtopic:
And yeah, it has been tradition for me to give Junda a bar of Mars every year for his birthday, I'd better remember to buy one tomorrow morning!
So finally, we decided to take 162 back because we were sick of the MRT and the hordes of people that came with it, and we ended up walking in circles along orchard road looking for a bus stop that 162 stopped at. I am so glad we took a bus back. And I'm so glad I didn't wear long pants or anything.
Anyway.
Orchard road wasn't very crowded today (but Food Republic was still crowded; there is never a moment of silence in that place) which made movement so much less claustrophobic and hassled. Ok, I was planning to buy slippers this time, but the shop was closed. At least I now have the latest Decemberists' CD (proud) :)
Offtopic:
And yeah, it has been tradition for me to give Junda a bar of Mars every year for his birthday, I'd better remember to buy one tomorrow morning!
So finally, we decided to take 162 back because we were sick of the MRT and the hordes of people that came with it, and we ended up walking in circles along orchard road looking for a bus stop that 162 stopped at. I am so glad we took a bus back. And I'm so glad I didn't wear long pants or anything.
Absurd tomato yawns in dust
Went to Elizabeth's house today for visitation! Played crazy mind-observation games. Well, at least now I know a tonne more games to drive slower people nuts.
Sleeeeeepy.
Yet not tired, but alert though conscious of the need to rest. I'm feeling my stream of consciousness pummeling towards the chasm that divides reality from random musings and dreamscapes. However, one has to avoid existentialist ramblings of a quasi-unsound mind when in the hours of twilight and delusionary autonomy; although the thought of dwelling on such clouds of passiveness and satience may seem alluring. (and bourgeois without much worry. etcetra etcetra.)
Sleeeeeepy.
Yet not tired, but alert though conscious of the need to rest. I'm feeling my stream of consciousness pummeling towards the chasm that divides reality from random musings and dreamscapes. However, one has to avoid existentialist ramblings of a quasi-unsound mind when in the hours of twilight and delusionary autonomy; although the thought of dwelling on such clouds of passiveness and satience may seem alluring. (and bourgeois without much worry. etcetra etcetra.)
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Honeydew
I'm blogging about Nom de Guerre because I'm very so inordinately afraid of forgetting about it, and also because in French it means 'fictitious name' (but that's not as important). And it's nifty that they derive their inspiration from various New York subcultures and the lines of books from Yukio Mishima and Jack Kerouac, and the colonial uniform of early Western anthropologists and explorers that traveled to the Pacific Islands. Which is cool, (i think).
I'm getting cheesed-off by all the wrong things, I'm afraid. Perhaps we are all part of the second Lost Generation brought up a world so caught up with fighting terrorism and everything else to care for the simple things in life. And those last two sentences have not much relevance and sentence coherency, anyway.
I'm getting cheesed-off by all the wrong things, I'm afraid. Perhaps we are all part of the second Lost Generation brought up a world so caught up with fighting terrorism and everything else to care for the simple things in life. And those last two sentences have not much relevance and sentence coherency, anyway.
2nd day of My Only Real Holiday
Quadrophenia by ~DenisM79 on deviantART
Went to my maternal grandparents' place this afternoon after church.
Went home.
Weather is too sweltering to care about anything else.
Chinchillas need greater recognition in society.
I can't think properly, blah.
my moment of sun by ~theonewiththebignose on deviantART
Saturday, February 17, 2007
1st day of My Only Real Holiday
It's the eve of CNY! I was so busy trying to soak in that festive joy that I turned super ravenous in time for dinner. And the first buah keluak of the new year tasted so so good! (I can never pronounce its name properly for whatever reason, much to the embarrassment and shame of my family.) We ended up discussing whether the buah keluak and chap chye were salty enough for our relatives tomorrow when they visit in the evening, since the dish tends to ferment and release richer flavours overnight in the fridge, but too much salt would make it jelat (i think).
And my dad took out flat rye crackers for us and took out a small bottle of caviar. From Ikea. That's not caviar, I said. It's just roe. (But whatever, you know, things tend to taste better if you label them as something more expensive than what they really are.) However, roe and rye crackers are a marriage that has all the essence of a Britney matrimony. The rye tasted like chinchilla pellets, and don't even talk about the roe (it was fishy and salty and urgh slimy). Maybe the Swedes like their breakfast that way, I don't know.
Rock melon is now my favourite fruit, and Turkish Delights are now my favourite candy (so exotic, hah). I'm loving my holiday. :) And I'll still be working on those logarithms!
Anyway, I was Youtubing around with my sister, and we were laughing along to the MAD TV parodies. I think the Alias one is so funny, especially when she cries! And the lame ones of the Abercrombie generations were too funny!!
And my dad took out flat rye crackers for us and took out a small bottle of caviar. From Ikea. That's not caviar, I said. It's just roe. (But whatever, you know, things tend to taste better if you label them as something more expensive than what they really are.) However, roe and rye crackers are a marriage that has all the essence of a Britney matrimony. The rye tasted like chinchilla pellets, and don't even talk about the roe (it was fishy and salty and urgh slimy). Maybe the Swedes like their breakfast that way, I don't know.
Rock melon is now my favourite fruit, and Turkish Delights are now my favourite candy (so exotic, hah). I'm loving my holiday. :) And I'll still be working on those logarithms!
Anyway, I was Youtubing around with my sister, and we were laughing along to the MAD TV parodies. I think the Alias one is so funny, especially when she cries! And the lame ones of the Abercrombie generations were too funny!!
Friday, February 16, 2007
Happy hyper happy
I'VE FOUND THE SONG PLAYING AT THE END OF THE SONY WALKMAN ADVERT!!! I'm so exhilarated. I love this song. It's not downloadable though.
Down down down by Rob Lord
Audiophiles... unite! :D
And had no choice but to choose 'Alternative Music' as a topic for oral presentation, since I was one of the last people to choose a topic.
Finally, something that I enjoy.
(is extremely high)
Down down down by Rob Lord
Audiophiles... unite! :D
And had no choice but to choose 'Alternative Music' as a topic for oral presentation, since I was one of the last people to choose a topic.
Finally, something that I enjoy.
(is extremely high)
桃 花 源 记 陶渊明
晋太元中，武陵人，捕鱼为业，缘溪行，忘路之远近。忽逢桃花林，夹岸数百步，
中无杂树，芳草鲜美，落英缤纷，渔人甚异之。复前行，欲穷其林。林尽水源，便得一
山。山有小口，彷佛若有光，便舍船，从口入。
初极狭，才通人；复行数十步，豁然开朗。土地平旷，屋舍俨然。有良田、美池、
桑、竹之属，阡陌交通，鸡犬相闻。其中往来种作，男女衣著，悉如外人；黄发垂髫，
并怡然自乐。见渔人，乃大惊，问所从来；具答之。便要还家，设酒、杀鸡、作食。村
中闻有此人，咸来问讯。自云：先世避秦时乱，率妻子邑人来此绝境，不复出焉；遂与
外人间隔。问今是何世？乃不知有汉，无论魏、晋。此人一一为具言所闻，皆叹惋。余
人各复延至其家，皆出酒食。停数日，辞去。此中人语云：「不足为外人道也。」
既出，得其船，便扶向路，处处志之。及郡下，诣太守，说如此。太守即遣人随其
往，寻向所志，遂迷不复得路。南阳刘子骥，高尚士也，闻之，欣然规往，未果，寻病
终。后遂无问津者。
Thanks to Xinyu, I'm sort of prepared to watch 桃 花 源 next Friday!
And I want to watch tidoudao as well! And the Yo La Tengo concert! I need sponsors :(
晋太元中，武陵人，捕鱼为业，缘溪行，忘路之远近。忽逢桃花林，夹岸数百步，
中无杂树，芳草鲜美，落英缤纷，渔人甚异之。复前行，欲穷其林。林尽水源，便得一
山。山有小口，彷佛若有光，便舍船，从口入。
初极狭，才通人；复行数十步，豁然开朗。土地平旷，屋舍俨然。有良田、美池、
桑、竹之属，阡陌交通，鸡犬相闻。其中往来种作，男女衣著，悉如外人；黄发垂髫，
并怡然自乐。见渔人，乃大惊，问所从来；具答之。便要还家，设酒、杀鸡、作食。村
中闻有此人，咸来问讯。自云：先世避秦时乱，率妻子邑人来此绝境，不复出焉；遂与
外人间隔。问今是何世？乃不知有汉，无论魏、晋。此人一一为具言所闻，皆叹惋。余
人各复延至其家，皆出酒食。停数日，辞去。此中人语云：「不足为外人道也。」
既出，得其船，便扶向路，处处志之。及郡下，诣太守，说如此。太守即遣人随其
往，寻向所志，遂迷不复得路。南阳刘子骥，高尚士也，闻之，欣然规往，未果，寻病
终。后遂无问津者。
Thanks to Xinyu, I'm sort of prepared to watch 桃 花 源 next Friday!
And I want to watch tidoudao as well! And the Yo La Tengo concert! I need sponsors :(
Prune
I went out with Sherina, Gwen, Jalyn, Joey and Andrea today!
I hate shopping when there are large crowds, especially at topman with its randomly placed clothes racks that always end up blocking my way. And it's interesting to overhear conversations of other people, especially schools that are known for its promiscuous bimbos.
Lunch was so so good. We went to a Japanese fast food restaurent at the basement of Cathay Cineleisure and wow the cold soba noodles were good. The agedashi tofu was a little on the chewy-starchy side and the tentsuyu that came with it wasn't sweet enough, so I guess I should have ordered the chicken instead. I felt the meal was rather affordable, considering its generous portions, but I sensed I still would have ended up hungry; fortunately, Sherina and Gwen hated eggplant so I ended up with two extra eggplant tempura pieces (and a Japanese sweet potato one that Sherina mistook for a brinjal, poor girl).
After that, we watched Epic Movie. My goodness, it was so amazingly lame and funny (at the beginning) and Andrea, who was sitting next to me, kept laughing with mad, uncontrolled hysteria that would have been frightening if not for the fact that there were many other people surrounding me so I was probably quite safe. I think the funniest part was when Paris Hilton walked out of a boutique and paused on the sidewalk and said 'I am so hot' in that nonchalent bimbotic way behind her huge shades, when this other lady fell from the sky and landed on her, discovering The Golden Ticket in Paris' purse. Etc. etc.
The ending was really weird and odd though. I didn't like it. It was so lame. Gah.
Shopping at Far East Plaza was so tedious. We met some other XMS people, so Andrea and I tagged along with some of the guys since they were going bag shopping, etc. etc.
After stopping over at Adidas Originals at Pacific Plaza, we did some shopping at Topshop/man. Actually, it was more like Sherina was doing the shopping, since I was too busy weaving my way through the sea of men with the same hairstyle. It's scary when one shops at almost-lifestyle stores because everyone owns the same clothes. (But it still beats trying to leap over random sized people at Flesh Imp since their chains and bling-bling become a tripping hazard.)
And then I saw a T-shirt that caught my eye but was only available in sizes that I don't buy. Suddenly in a flash of inspiration and intelligence, Andrea, the hybrid of Shaojie and I, said something that I thought was... meaningful, sort of. You shouldn't buy something for the sake of spending your money; you should buy something that you really like so you can look back and feel a sense of achievement, he said. (I think, that's why I'm not putting it in quotes.) Although I'm not so sure about the part about the sense of achievement, I've realized that it's best I save my Christmas Shopping Fund instead of buying stuff for the sake of spending. Well, that definitely came from my side of the family, hah!
Actually, I'm getting bored of Orchard Road. So predictable, so uncomfortable, so uneventful. Maybe if I'm adventurous, I shall hit Haji Lane. (If I could ever find it, that is.) And then again, I've realized that I go shopping with no objective whatsoever. And I still haven't bought new slippers.
I love CNY!
I love logarithms, especially when one can figure out the solution without getting any other help. There's this surprising sense of hope and achievement. Mr Lee, our new maths teacher, was telling us that we need to spend a day to quietly think through and take some time to understand the different concepts, like he did one rainy day in Sec 3. When will my rainy day come? (even though the monsoon season is over now, but that's not the point)
I hate shopping when there are large crowds, especially at topman with its randomly placed clothes racks that always end up blocking my way. And it's interesting to overhear conversations of other people, especially schools that are known for its promiscuous bimbos.
Lunch was so so good. We went to a Japanese fast food restaurent at the basement of Cathay Cineleisure and wow the cold soba noodles were good. The agedashi tofu was a little on the chewy-starchy side and the tentsuyu that came with it wasn't sweet enough, so I guess I should have ordered the chicken instead. I felt the meal was rather affordable, considering its generous portions, but I sensed I still would have ended up hungry; fortunately, Sherina and Gwen hated eggplant so I ended up with two extra eggplant tempura pieces (and a Japanese sweet potato one that Sherina mistook for a brinjal, poor girl).
After that, we watched Epic Movie. My goodness, it was so amazingly lame and funny (at the beginning) and Andrea, who was sitting next to me, kept laughing with mad, uncontrolled hysteria that would have been frightening if not for the fact that there were many other people surrounding me so I was probably quite safe. I think the funniest part was when Paris Hilton walked out of a boutique and paused on the sidewalk and said 'I am so hot' in that nonchalent bimbotic way behind her huge shades, when this other lady fell from the sky and landed on her, discovering The Golden Ticket in Paris' purse. Etc. etc.
The ending was really weird and odd though. I didn't like it. It was so lame. Gah.
Shopping at Far East Plaza was so tedious. We met some other XMS people, so Andrea and I tagged along with some of the guys since they were going bag shopping, etc. etc.
After stopping over at Adidas Originals at Pacific Plaza, we did some shopping at Topshop/man. Actually, it was more like Sherina was doing the shopping, since I was too busy weaving my way through the sea of men with the same hairstyle. It's scary when one shops at almost-lifestyle stores because everyone owns the same clothes. (But it still beats trying to leap over random sized people at Flesh Imp since their chains and bling-bling become a tripping hazard.)
And then I saw a T-shirt that caught my eye but was only available in sizes that I don't buy. Suddenly in a flash of inspiration and intelligence, Andrea, the hybrid of Shaojie and I, said something that I thought was... meaningful, sort of. You shouldn't buy something for the sake of spending your money; you should buy something that you really like so you can look back and feel a sense of achievement, he said. (I think, that's why I'm not putting it in quotes.) Although I'm not so sure about the part about the sense of achievement, I've realized that it's best I save my Christmas Shopping Fund instead of buying stuff for the sake of spending. Well, that definitely came from my side of the family, hah!
Actually, I'm getting bored of Orchard Road. So predictable, so uncomfortable, so uneventful. Maybe if I'm adventurous, I shall hit Haji Lane. (If I could ever find it, that is.) And then again, I've realized that I go shopping with no objective whatsoever. And I still haven't bought new slippers.
I love CNY!
I love logarithms, especially when one can figure out the solution without getting any other help. There's this surprising sense of hope and achievement. Mr Lee, our new maths teacher, was telling us that we need to spend a day to quietly think through and take some time to understand the different concepts, like he did one rainy day in Sec 3. When will my rainy day come? (even though the monsoon season is over now, but that's not the point)
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Thank God for public holidays
While most teachers believe school holidays are really just a euphimism for non-structured curriculum time, that sort of capitalism becomes taboo in the case of public holidays! My only source of solitude and rest for now, sigh. We're gonna catch Epic Movie tomorrow, but I can't help thinking it wouldn't be as funny as Scary Movie since there's not much to make fun of.
I felt the ghost of 2005 today while decorating my class and preparing the Investiture banner. Like, the feeling of electricity in the air when everyone's buzzing about preparing AV stuff and practicing for tomorrow's celebrations? Very 60th Anniversary.
Anyway I would have elaborated more, but since people have been complaining that everything I say is too chim and boring for them to digest, I shouldn't be wasting my words. And also, since no one has the attention span of Queen Victoria at a tea party now, I guess it's time to teach the world how to nibble ever so delicately at one's raspberry jam shortcakes and enjoy the fluidity of language, or at least, whatever that's left now, since most of the existing reading materials are made up of sentence structures as simple and unreactive as noble gases.
Fortunately my post ends off on a less bitter note, because 12 schools so far have responded to the Investiture invitations we sent, though 2 of them couldn't make it (and somehow, it reeks of snobbery. Then again, I may be overly cynical and wrong). And some are schools whom we've never invited before! That's Oh So Way Cool.
i can't wait for tomorrow. And 305 people, all the best for your history test tomorrow! History is fun (though lit. is fun-ner)
(I need to think of new synonyms for 'fun'.)
I felt the ghost of 2005 today while decorating my class and preparing the Investiture banner. Like, the feeling of electricity in the air when everyone's buzzing about preparing AV stuff and practicing for tomorrow's celebrations? Very 60th Anniversary.
Anyway I would have elaborated more, but since people have been complaining that everything I say is too chim and boring for them to digest, I shouldn't be wasting my words. And also, since no one has the attention span of Queen Victoria at a tea party now, I guess it's time to teach the world how to nibble ever so delicately at one's raspberry jam shortcakes and enjoy the fluidity of language, or at least, whatever that's left now, since most of the existing reading materials are made up of sentence structures as simple and unreactive as noble gases.
Fortunately my post ends off on a less bitter note, because 12 schools so far have responded to the Investiture invitations we sent, though 2 of them couldn't make it (and somehow, it reeks of snobbery. Then again, I may be overly cynical and wrong). And some are schools whom we've never invited before! That's Oh So Way Cool.
i can't wait for tomorrow. And 305 people, all the best for your history test tomorrow! History is fun (though lit. is fun-ner)
(I need to think of new synonyms for 'fun'.)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I hate my mother's flash drive
It has flash memory. I guess Imation decided to get postmodern and literal on interpreting its product naming, so: flash memory ergo "in-a-flash" memory — Doesn't last longer than 5 seconds. I'm suspecting it's possibly some compatitibility issue between macs and PCs. (I was uploading the story of The Biggest Hongbao In The Whole Wide World for my mum's kindergarten kids for the CNY celebrations, and I ran into 1@#$%& problems !&*@(_!) On a deeper level, it raises issues that a Future School might run into, unless everyone is born with the mind of an engineer 5 years down the road.
Valentine's Day—The Aftermath, starts tomorrow. The smell of jealousy in the air might be a little too uncomfortable for some, so I'm giving the unloved (some who are so absorbed with self-pity I'm not sure whether they would notice) and some other couple-bashing (actually, not really. more like couple-watching) close friends Singles Awareness Day gifts, so now I'm hoping for an open mind and a sense of humour. (coughs)
I'm aging prematurely. I was walking into the SL room and asking Elgin where Mingting was until I realized that she was sitting two seats away from him. I felt. Like. An. Idiot. Whatever; it was funny for a while, anyway.
I'm starting to enjoy Mr Chan's physics tests, but I still don't understand why the cube has to float! Gahhh I've kissed my perfect score goodbye.
Valentine's Day—The Aftermath, starts tomorrow. The smell of jealousy in the air might be a little too uncomfortable for some, so I'm giving the unloved (some who are so absorbed with self-pity I'm not sure whether they would notice) and some other couple-bashing (actually, not really. more like couple-watching) close friends Singles Awareness Day gifts, so now I'm hoping for an open mind and a sense of humour. (coughs)
I'm aging prematurely. I was walking into the SL room and asking Elgin where Mingting was until I realized that she was sitting two seats away from him. I felt. Like. An. Idiot. Whatever; it was funny for a while, anyway.
I'm starting to enjoy Mr Chan's physics tests, but I still don't understand why the cube has to float! Gahhh I've kissed my perfect score goodbye.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Rites of passage
Happy Birthday, Angeline! (you're now in that exclusive 15-years-old-before-CNY club! LOL)
I think Stuart associates me with mustaches, since he's the only guy who did not read my blog but could tell that I had shaved.
We were watching Without Warning during assembly in the hall today. Almost propaganda, until they gave correct portrayals of the public in Singapore. One of the actresses was so good, I was actually convinced by her acting to the point where I felt angst and rage. She was the 'Mum' of the domestic helper who caught the flu and mistook it for that deadly virus that was spreading like wildfire on a perfumery next to an oil drill and gas power station. She was so bitchy! I was reminded the time where I think Zizhao, Elizabeth and I accompanied Nelson to buy some concert tickets at J8 when a women came up and shouted at the middle-aged Sistic counter staff about a matter as trival as credit cards (or perhaps she really really, really wanted to watch a particular show that was sold-out) in front of her baby daughter. I was so apalled that I gave her the Look Of Death but I was only sec 1 then so it wasn't as successful, anyway.
"These people, English so good want to show off like that" muttered one of the women. I felt sorry for her, but I think that's the price to pay when you want Singaporeans to wake up to better and more professional service.
Elizabeth gave me a magazine for my birthday present! It isn't any magazine though, it's iSh— that architectural and lifestyle magazine (with the pretty pictures!) (random sidenote: I'm still sore that a certain someone would buy a present for that certain someone but wouldn't get even a card for me, but I'm so kind and merciful, that certain someone wouldn't have known what I'm talking about anyway. And I don't think it's much of a macho-guy thing to be giving presents to each other so yeah.)
My goodness. I was planning to fall asleep by 10 (because I'm getting interviewed for MOE's "Future School" project) but I ended up helping my dad with his writing workshop homework—the irony of generational role-reversals -.-
I think Stuart associates me with mustaches, since he's the only guy who did not read my blog but could tell that I had shaved.
We were watching Without Warning during assembly in the hall today. Almost propaganda, until they gave correct portrayals of the public in Singapore. One of the actresses was so good, I was actually convinced by her acting to the point where I felt angst and rage. She was the 'Mum' of the domestic helper who caught the flu and mistook it for that deadly virus that was spreading like wildfire on a perfumery next to an oil drill and gas power station. She was so bitchy! I was reminded the time where I think Zizhao, Elizabeth and I accompanied Nelson to buy some concert tickets at J8 when a women came up and shouted at the middle-aged Sistic counter staff about a matter as trival as credit cards (or perhaps she really really, really wanted to watch a particular show that was sold-out) in front of her baby daughter. I was so apalled that I gave her the Look Of Death but I was only sec 1 then so it wasn't as successful, anyway.
"These people, English so good want to show off like that" muttered one of the women. I felt sorry for her, but I think that's the price to pay when you want Singaporeans to wake up to better and more professional service.
Elizabeth gave me a magazine for my birthday present! It isn't any magazine though, it's iSh— that architectural and lifestyle magazine (with the pretty pictures!) (random sidenote: I'm still sore that a certain someone would buy a present for that certain someone but wouldn't get even a card for me, but I'm so kind and merciful, that certain someone wouldn't have known what I'm talking about anyway. And I don't think it's much of a macho-guy thing to be giving presents to each other so yeah.)
My goodness. I was planning to fall asleep by 10 (because I'm getting interviewed for MOE's "Future School" project) but I ended up helping my dad with his writing workshop homework—the irony of generational role-reversals -.-
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Fuzz
Happy Birthday, Lucas!
So... we've won AISS at the JGs last Friday. Cool :D
And I've finally overcome my phobia of razors, the dread of having to use el cheapo shaving creams and looking entirely different at the end of the process. (and my dangling carrot was a blue tube Kiehl's Close Shavers' Squadron Ultimate Brushless Shaving Cream with funny-corny captions) But I still look the same, anyway.
I might decide to grow a stubble now, just to rebel.
(I'm probably only kidding)
Chinchilla update:
Snowball is starting to crawl and climb all over Zsa zsa now, so Pip has to occasionally babysit her/him at night. Mochi is like, apathetic.
So... we've won AISS at the JGs last Friday. Cool :D
And I've finally overcome my phobia of razors, the dread of having to use el cheapo shaving creams and looking entirely different at the end of the process. (and my dangling carrot was a blue tube Kiehl's Close Shavers' Squadron Ultimate Brushless Shaving Cream with funny-corny captions) But I still look the same, anyway.
I might decide to grow a stubble now, just to rebel.
(I'm probably only kidding)
Chinchilla update:
Snowball is starting to crawl and climb all over Zsa zsa now, so Pip has to occasionally babysit her/him at night. Mochi is like, apathetic.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Chicken
OK, I'm rather bummed about always ending up in a school that's in some sort of a financial hussle. Dang! (Now to avoid JCs that see budget-cuts as a routine, termly kinda thing.)
I can't wait for next week, because that's when the first prelim round of the JGs are over, and hopefully I would get to return home from school before 6pm. Besides, I don't mind the new clothes and ba gua (until one starts to rapidly gain weight without any increase in height whatsoever).
I was walking to NUS Law Faculty with Angeline, Andrea and Mingting the other day when I happened to find myself realizing that many things about my school were inadequate (or more fittingly, things that should be in a top autonomous, band 1, school excellence award recepient institution were missing.) But before I start to ramble like Grandpa Simpson's random war tales, I shall disclaim: in no way am I saying that the school compound is the smallest and the worst in Singapore; I am merely voicing out a town-planning tragedy. But whatever–
I would rather have a school situated on a hill overlooking the sea/river/canal, since most breeze comes from areas where such bodies of water are situated. I feel almost claustrophobic while playing soccer in a petit-sized field surrounded by gargantuan blocks of flats that seem crammed haphazardly together, especially when they are now in a mass of random lines and colours.
But I wish there was a large grassy slope with towering trees to have picnics/random gatherings under the shade, like in those American Colleges. And preferably, the exterior of the building should be brick and cream with black cast iron baulstrades. I'm tired of all the new-fangled glass and concrete structures that force students to work in such a cold and industrial environment. It's so imposing, shudder.
But at the most basic level, there should be adequate spaces for CCAs, extra classrooms and lecture theatres to avoid having to ursurp the rooms of other departments, and to avoid facing a shortage of venues in spite of all the activities. It would be really cool if there was an Aesthetics Block where we can have our own concert auditorium (where the acoustics are good enough to avoid having to use microphones) with a large, accomodating backstage, random scattered small performing spaces, a few soundproofed recital/practice/dance studios for multi-purpose use, dedicated rooms for each individual performing arts group, and a library where we can keep books on artsy subjects to develop higher order spatial-temporal reasoning.
And then there should be a Science block that has an electron microscope! That would be so so so cool. With lecture theatres where students can walk off to learn, I dunno, experimental physics and astrochemistry?
And it shall offer subjects beyond the scope of Singapore's narrow-minded education system. Like Zizhao's school, I want them to offer anthropology, mathematics, literature, economics, linguistics (my dad's doing sociolinguistics/applied linguistics and it's really really interesting), film studies/film criticism, philosophy, theatre, dance, music and journalism. I'm so tired of being bound to studying for O levels' sake. I'd rather study out of interest (but then again, there are not many incentives to study left, then)
OK, yes, I've rambled enough to piss people off.
All the best to the JGs speakers tomorrow! Go Xinmin! :D
I can't wait for next week, because that's when the first prelim round of the JGs are over, and hopefully I would get to return home from school before 6pm. Besides, I don't mind the new clothes and ba gua (until one starts to rapidly gain weight without any increase in height whatsoever).
I was walking to NUS Law Faculty with Angeline, Andrea and Mingting the other day when I happened to find myself realizing that many things about my school were inadequate (or more fittingly, things that should be in a top autonomous, band 1, school excellence award recepient institution were missing.) But before I start to ramble like Grandpa Simpson's random war tales, I shall disclaim: in no way am I saying that the school compound is the smallest and the worst in Singapore; I am merely voicing out a town-planning tragedy. But whatever–
I would rather have a school situated on a hill overlooking the sea/river/canal, since most breeze comes from areas where such bodies of water are situated. I feel almost claustrophobic while playing soccer in a petit-sized field surrounded by gargantuan blocks of flats that seem crammed haphazardly together, especially when they are now in a mass of random lines and colours.
But I wish there was a large grassy slope with towering trees to have picnics/random gatherings under the shade, like in those American Colleges. And preferably, the exterior of the building should be brick and cream with black cast iron baulstrades. I'm tired of all the new-fangled glass and concrete structures that force students to work in such a cold and industrial environment. It's so imposing, shudder.
But at the most basic level, there should be adequate spaces for CCAs, extra classrooms and lecture theatres to avoid having to ursurp the rooms of other departments, and to avoid facing a shortage of venues in spite of all the activities. It would be really cool if there was an Aesthetics Block where we can have our own concert auditorium (where the acoustics are good enough to avoid having to use microphones) with a large, accomodating backstage, random scattered small performing spaces, a few soundproofed recital/practice/dance studios for multi-purpose use, dedicated rooms for each individual performing arts group, and a library where we can keep books on artsy subjects to develop higher order spatial-temporal reasoning.
And then there should be a Science block that has an electron microscope! That would be so so so cool. With lecture theatres where students can walk off to learn, I dunno, experimental physics and astrochemistry?
And it shall offer subjects beyond the scope of Singapore's narrow-minded education system. Like Zizhao's school, I want them to offer anthropology, mathematics, literature, economics, linguistics (my dad's doing sociolinguistics/applied linguistics and it's really really interesting), film studies/film criticism, philosophy, theatre, dance, music and journalism. I'm so tired of being bound to studying for O levels' sake. I'd rather study out of interest (but then again, there are not many incentives to study left, then)
OK, yes, I've rambled enough to piss people off.
All the best to the JGs speakers tomorrow! Go Xinmin! :D
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
We're calling it Snowball
Zsa zsa gave birth last sunday in the morning! It's sooo cute!
My GPRS costs are gonna be so high this month, i can get nosebleeds just climbing up the stacks of bills. Sigh.
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