Bye

I had this dream where I ended up in a quaint Japanese town with Spanish influences and canals reminiscent of European countrysides.

I hope this doesn't happen when I get there!

So anyway here is a list of things I'm so definitely going to get.

1) Preserved scallops.
2) Charm bracelet for sister.
3) I don't know? Disneyland entrance pass?

And thus I have no idea of what to expect there and I think I'm overpacking because it doesn't get colder than 10 degrees at where I'm going but yet I have my dad's leather jacket and super warm woollen sweaters and scarves and gloves and socks and beanie. And thus my nightmares of vacations going horribly messed up and wrong are coming true.

At this point in time my grandmother is criticizing by wardrobe choices because my jackets are apparantly too heavy and she is trying to tell me that the thin black one (that came as a free gift with a National Geographic subscription) would be a better choice. On second thoughts, I think she may be right in our overestimation of the freeze we would experience in Japan, since I've experienced uncomfortably colder moments in Perth when the temperature dipped to 3 degrees.

But I'm pretty excited about the trip! And choir members remember to give your details to your SLs! And all the best to those involved in the primary school debate workshop! May you have the ability to think of clever comebacks to deal with smart-alecky P6s, and have the gift of staring them into silence when needed!

And O level Chinese people! All the best :D nearly forgot that it's today! (shame)

Saturday was surreal.

My morning started off by getting pretty creeped out, having to alight at the 55 bus stop near the old Grand Hotel in Marine Parade, having heard that it was split into two for the construction of Still Road that runs through it, and thus having the constant impression of guilt for trespassing through its faded grandeur (that sort of thing).

Then I was mildly worried that I was walking in the wrong direction to McDonald's at Parkway Parade. Upon arriving, Mingting called and told me solemnly that she spilt tea all over herself, except that I heard it as 'I spilt pee all over myself' and I was like, exclaiming, 'you spilled pee all over yourself?' to the amusement of early morning office-staff. Then I realized it was tea she was talking about.

But anyway, the rest came late because they took the wrong bus and ended up in Geylang, or so I heard. We realized it was going to rain, since darkness suddenly befell upon us as if a premonition, and rushed to the bus stop, learnt that Angeline's camera is malfunctioning, and got on a bus where Andrea lost his sugar for his tea. We alighted a few bus stops too early before VS and ended up running in the drizzle, and fortunately met with Gasper's family and his wonderful car with the automatic doors.


You can see how dishevelled we looked. Mingting's trying to conceal the fact that she spilt tea all over herself with a strategically-placed blazer! Haha.


Shiyun's posing with her Fillet O' Fish in the canteen. McDonald's Mornings always inject so much joy into our sodden lives, ha.

We lost the first match of the day to KC X, despite trying to avenge for our junior team's loss to them as well. Quite disappointing, since we had won all three rounds the day before. But Mrs Ho dropped by with the tee we gave her and our junior team won sc so it wasn't too demoralizing, I guess. Met pl in the next round; won, but not by a very large margin. (This is in relation to the previous debates, heh.)

We had to meet our junior team in the semifinals! It was quite a fun round, and I had a freaky deja vu moment in the middle of giving my case division, although personally I felt really unprepared to give my speech because in comparison to the other motions, this was probably one of the those I wasn't as confident in. Furthermore, minutes before stepping into the room, I was frantically having a 'costume change' to suit the school blazer. And I still can't tie a decent knot in my tie.

Meeting sc in the finals was interesting. They had a more formidable speaker line-up than what we faced in the prelims. I thought our criteria of what best upholds our sense of nation and economic growth was better than the economics-centric benefits vs. detriments, but perhaps it wasn't made explicit enough (albeit mentioned in every speaker after the firsts).

Anyway, when best speaker went to sc, we kind of knew that we had a very slim chance of winning already. (It's like Scout's premonition of Tom Robinson's conviction in TKAM. How a jury never looks at a defendant it has convicted.) Anyway, we congratulated them and took photos again.



Had a long emotional debrief then everyone walked to east coast hawker centre for a sort-of impromptu celebration. And the sec 3s walked together! I remember Shiyun asking us to continue going out together as a batch after we graduate. We packed roti john, sambal stingray, satay, chicken wings, wonton noodles and other snacks before heading to one of the BBQ pits, where our attention was divided between two ginger coloured cats, writing on the sand, and the food.


This cat was being sociable and snatched someone's chicken wing. The hands belong to Ismail and Angeline.


This suspicious kitty decided to keep a distance from us.


Of course, we had to draw in the sand. Everyone has to draw in the sand when we go to the beach! Samantha, Nai Ma, is busy taking the initiative.


The moon was really bright.

We all went home and I took a lift from Miss Siva and her parents. I discovered who her mother was! It was such a surprise, really. I then collapsed on my bed after realizing that I had been debating 7 times in 2 days.

Saturday nights in neon lights

Song is Take Me To The Riot by Stars.

Gah. SYF photos. Choir Tees. We're students, not accountants.

Ugly

Just came back from the SSO concert.

While Paganini’s Violin Concerto No. 1 was overly technical, I felt that Rachmoninov’s Symphony No. 2 was much more rich in dynamics and emotions, which added a fluidity to it that I found was lacking in the violin concerto. However, Jin Li, the solo violinist for the violin concerto, had an amazing technique that came close to that of Paganini himself (who reportedly sold his soul to the devil in return for his talent), and dazzled most of us with double and triple stops, but perhaps to the point of saturating the audience with an overload of musical embellishments.

Rachmoninov’s Symphony No. 2 was a refreshing change from the mostly stiff and restrained concerto. Throughout all of its movements, the use of intense dynamics employed by the SSO highlighted the lush harmonies (I thought I detected atonal ones in the first movement) and poignant melody lines. The most breathtaking moment, I felt, was at the start when we were, as it were, caught by our collars and swung through the air by a gush of rich and dense harmonics that swelled, ebbed, and flowed like tossing waves. It was a pity that the people sitting next to me seemed more engrossed in their cell phones and the striking resemblance that one of the violinists had to one of the teachers.

Went to have a chicken and ham stroganoff at dhoby ghaut, but not before someone was approached by a man with hair that looked as if they had been parted into three portions and welded together by a glue gun. Needless to say, Glue Gun Guy, in a faux Western accent, managed to squeeze in his contact information and boss' business card, and left someone at a loss for words and trying to comprehend an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Go figure. I've never felt so invisible in all my life.

Ah well. We all have our Daria Morgendorffer moments. I've found this Whoopi Goldberg video that parodied the surf culture in the 80s and 90s.

Post-exam bliss

Argh, I feel too angsty these days. I don't know why, really. Probably some internal thing.

Safra at Mount Faber has rain-showers at its swimming pool changing room/washroom! I am, however, severely put off by the cloudy waters with a visibility of about 8 metres, and the entrance gates that have never worked for us since our last visit a few weeks ago.

Anyway I've just checked my hotmail account—which is a very rare event—and discovered Andrea's email about motion researching and I'm like, Oh Gawd I Wish I'd Checked Earlier, but I'm suddenly overcome with a feeling of happiness and contentment knowing that there's finally debate training and I'm working with my favourite-est (to the point where grammatical and syntactic conventions are contravened) team in the world.

Then there's a free SSO concert tomorrow as well that was listed in last week's newspaper but is mysteriously missing in the esplanade calendar on its website. But I've managed to find it listed on the SSO website.

"Hear the SSO before the orchestra goes on tour in China this October! Featuring Yehudi Menuhin’s student and SSO violinist, Jin Li, the SSO will be playing Paganini’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in D major and Rachmoninov’s Symphony No. 2 in E minor. With such great music, the Rush Hour Concert promises to be a treat after a long day at school!"

Paganini and Rachmoninov. Sounds fun. I remember the morning when the entire school was engulfed in a sudden darkness that crawled through the parade square when a massive cumulonimbus hovered over Hougang. And to enhance the drama, those freaky warring-type melodramatic orchestral and choral pieces happened to be playing over the PA system as part of the music programme. Very War Of The Worlds.

Day Zero of EOYs

Yes, I hear your cries.

You are the boy who has the bad haircut, emergant acne and 5 year-old-bag. After getting a haircut, do not kick a fuss at the woman has never cut your hair properly because she hates the texture of your hair, do not glare at the toddler wearing the pink overalls giggling loudly, and most importantly, do not forget to remove all valuables from the bag compartment behind the mirror. Hold your head up high and ignore the people staring. Sway your arms nonchalently because you do not care.

Walk the longer way back because you have your sister's music with you. Feel sorry for yourself because someone stole your iPod 2 years ago. You have waited too long to buy a new one — you are now the less cooler older brother, wearing last season's spectacles, in the triple science stream, Student Leader, chronic palm-sweater, and ohmygawd, in the same school. The bag you carry on your shoulders is old and grey, so walk with a slower gait because having a slight spring in your step would make the rusty zippers jingle as if you were a walking Salvation Army christmastime goodwill bin on tour.

Return home but do not expect to hear anything. Your grandparents will be watching the television. Do not expect them to say anything; Spy Kids 2 is showing. As you close the door, you hear the familiar clasp of the padlock.
— "I like your hair" says your Grandmother.
Do not reply because you know it is a lie. Latch the the door softly.
— "I like your hair" she says again. Be grateful. She could have laughed.

Enter the study room with a smile on your face. Anticipate the pregnant silence lingering like choking cigarette smoke before someone sniggers.
— "I think you should wash your hair" says your father. The comment is oozing with sympathy.

Do not storm out of the room. Grab a towel and take a shower. Use your favourite shampoo. Rinse. Dry. Look at the reflection in the mirror. He looks at you as if you are to blame for this stupid haircut, this confusion of buzz-cuts and layers. Remind yourself that there is no time for melodrama, because the evil blue social studies textbook beckons. It is on the blue table, in the room with the blue walls that have since faded to become grotesque shades of lilac and white.

Look at the mirror again. Be convinced that the person staring widely back, sclera and all, should be the one partaking in the shame. Sweep your hair back. Brush it back down. Your hair will never in perfect symbiosis with your, nor will in syncronize itself according to your moods. Try as you wish, apply sticky sweet slimy lychee scented hair wax, mould it, squish it, swear— you have come to the conclusion that you have the worst hair in the world and perhaps the woman at the hairdresser's would be unanimous in your thinking and sink into the swelling depths of self-pity as kelp and dead plankton bury you into the murky beds of peat and moss.



(Haha, just wanted to have some fun before English Paper 1 tomorrow. It the bastard child of Julie Orringer's 'Note to Sixth-Grade Self' and Haruki Murakamiesque moods. The ratatouille was definitely better today—after my grandmother microwaved it -.- My dad was like, 'there's something missing' and accused the brinjal of having a texture that was less meaty than expected.)