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wordpress

2007-09-15T23:20:00.000+08:00

Hey I'm moving to wordpress. Always wanted to, but never got round to doing it because I suck at choosing names. Be it for blogs, secret aliases,email addresses, team names for social activities (gold team and red team are prennial favourites) or whatever. I've never been on the high rungs of the ladder of golden smart, witty, cool names, much less original, Utter Kenfusion was the title of an autobiography I came across when I was twelve. :(

Anyway I've got down to finally getting a decent email account, hahaha kennethlim.zy@gmail.com, using hannah's one year old gmail invite. kennethlim was taken, kenlim might get Singapore Idol hate mail, kennethlzy is hella hard to enunciate and kenlimzy and its derivitatives just sound like acute viral infections. But I had to get one for uni applications, formal emails and the like. Doubt the dudes at American universities would embrace an Asian male who's utter_kenfusion. :( That account's still working though.

So yea, in lieu of this pursuit of professionalism I've joined wordpress, coz a) glassprisoned, although cool a la the Dream Theater song, doesn't really have much meaning, and the compromise and use of the past tense instead of the garang glassprison due to the lack its availability still peeves me at bit, and b) even though I adore the Opeth background which Jiayi got for me way back then,(the words at the top are from their great song 'Bleak), the grey on black doesn't really do well expressing large chunks of texts.

Yeah hence off to a new domain I go. I'll write something after I've finished exploring wordpress. Seems so idiotproof it's a little suspicious though. hmm. Anyway this weblog (blogspot) has been a Godsend outlet for me to explore my love for writing (free summore) and I'll continue to link it for the memories even as I turn, err link a new page of my life. But for now here's to a new beginning, a time to stop sleeping, to be conscious, to cease to sleep; to excite or rouse from sleep, to move to action, to wake:

http://www.waken.wordpress.com/.

actually chosen just because it has part of my name as its suffix, and coz I don't have to put a bloody '-ed' at the back. aiya just ignore the random idealistic dictionary definitions above.

cheerio.

Love Will Keep Us Alive

2007-09-07T12:08:00.001+08:00

May it be so.

a tout le monde

2007-09-05T23:06:00.000+08:00

So time and tide changes,

Like salty waves on grains of sand.
But be careful of its dangers,
I say to Dave Mustaine, and his band.

SIGH.

A Tout Le Monde - 1994 \m/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=twNaAze771Y

A Toute Le Monde - 2007 o_O

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhAdjEvyWEk

dreams

2007-09-03T22:24:00.001+08:00

I've always believed that something special happens when you fall asleep. You drift off into nothingness, like a balloon escaping the grasp of a little child, floating and wandering away while your eyes close, your heart beats slower and everything is that much more still, and clear. And then you dream. I was taught that dreams are figments of what you think about , say and feel in real life, but are dew covered mirrors if mirrors at all. I mean yeah they reflect the truth, but these notions are hazy, fragmented and gone in the morning.

I don't need to say what kinda dreams people have. When dreams occur we're automatically directed to this trove of hidden, suppressed emotions which are released and manifest themselves in our sleep. Dreams have expressed my joy, hope, desire, hurt, pain, remorse, fear in the weirdest but most plausible ways. Without getting into psychoanalysis and philosophy, I can safely admit that I feel my dreams and real life affect and interact with each other in ways I cannot explain. Wah lao, damn intellet.

I was told that God can tell you things through your dreams. And at this point of time in my life I'm yearning and longing for him to reveal his will for me. And if it doesn't smack me as a bellowing hurricane a dream would definitely suffice. But who am I to tell God what to do. Still it'd be nice to have some peace.

We all have dreams. When our bodies are at their most vulnerable we slip into this silk cocoon in the stars and we don't contemplate them any more. That's why dreams don't make sense - they don't have to. We don't find our dreams nonsensical because emotion does not require reason and which is why my heart feels it the most when I think about my dreams, if any thinking is done at all. Dream big, the idealist says. Live the dream, channel 5 says. But I'm afraid to. When my dreams fall my heart will shatter accordingly. And then what?

Sorry for this delirious drivel, ya'll know that if I could find the rights words to say I would. I need freedom from speech. J'ai besoin de la liberté! (hope that's right, go go go french revision!)

Sniff. Sweet dreams are made of these. And who am I to disagree?

2007-09-02T00:38:00.000+08:00

hear these praises, from a grateful heart.

2007-08-26T22:37:00.000+08:00

1) I have a fringe. I had a fringe when I was 8 and it seems that long hair's actually quite fun to keep, even if my perception of long is the same as buzzcut to Rapunzel. Probably will get busted tommorow.

2) Found tim seow's and bensoh-'s friend's wonderful film about lvoe while clearing up my old comp. Yea that's the title, A Film About Lvoe, a 8 min long epic about a leading male typing to a leading female "gimme a sex" instead of "sec" on msn and the ensuing chaos (co starring lele eating, michelle/cassandra in cedar uniforms and charles, darren and moi in drag. nah kidding.) The film's so bad it's absoultely amazing. (Tim Seow saves the film from B grade hell though, seriously.)

3) At night, everything looks better.

4) Only now have I truly tasted the sweet satisfaction of work completed via unadulterated focus and faith that the light at the end of the tunnel's not the incoming train. World Lit, IOC done and dusted at the cost of 7 hours of sleep in 3 days. It had a slightly sour edge due to the fact that the work was procrastinated work, but the aroma of warm maple syrup drizzled over fresh, piping hot pancakes was unmistakable as "This is the end of the Oral Commentary" was pronounced.

5) Highlander with schoolmates yesterday was mad fun. A part due to item no. 4. The music, company and drinks were all good. Fong's drunkedness was the single most amazing thing I've seen in months. "I want to go home...with JJ." Fat blonde's reaction to Fong's drunkedness at the taxi stand a close second.

6) The school's recent appreciation of marvel vs capcom is endearing, amusing, and weird all at the same time. I know none of this interest will last beyond two weeks, no one's really taking it that seriously, and frankly we've all got better things to worry about than connecting an air combo. But, it has been extremely fun teaching people how to play and to see their geniune interest, albeit for 5 mins , in getting good at a genre of games that nobody but a few care about.

7) I have never been able to answer 'what's your favourite food?' because I think it really depends. I'd love a huge bratwurst with grilled onions, ketchup and mustard any day, except after spending say three months in Germany living in a dingy, one room apartment above a bratwurst shop in which the ventilation for your place and the kitchen is one and the same. Too much of a good thing kills I guess. Still I can always appreciate a good steak. It's the only thing that I really eat slowly, so I can enjoy each cut and contemplate the flavourful juices locked in. Haven't really found affinity with the "take a cow, kill it, place it over a lighter for three min and haul it on my plate" type of rare steaks though. Sigh.

8) Contemplating steak is bordering on the gay.

9) I feel my faith in God growing stronger day by day. It's all good, and I mean I don't wanna preach or trumpet it all out, but when you get closer to Him, man your life's taken care of. I'm not one who likes to sit around doing nothing, and waiting for something to happen, but I guess sometimes you really need to have self - control and submit. I'm still learning though.

10) Kaela Kimura. I've never been into Jap music much, maybe the occasional X Japan record, but nothing serious, much lest the whole Jap female idol thingy. But for the sake of everything cherubic on this earth, how do you describe someone like this? Damn. Watch this video please, and well other videos. If she's not as awesome to you as I think she is, ah well. haha. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIFU2eCWmGE

11) I wanna get a regular gig in some club, jazz bar or something. There's something about being a session musician, or a permanent one in the night scene that's undescribable, alluring, and just all out appealing, which is what I can say for no. 10 as well, but I digress. After IB I hope to get a good horn, metal (jazz) mouthpieces and take lessons to refine my technique, get to know people in the industry. This may well set me back thousands though, so I'm gonna try saving up as much cash as I can, including my army pay (yea right) and hopefully get my own instrument by june next year. That's insane though, but I guess you need to spent a fair bit of money to get get a good sax, innuendo not intended.

12) Mr. Chirnside gave me an amazing suggestion for my future education the other day. I know I wanna become a journalist or at least for the first few years of my working life (may go into business or sth later), but so far I haven't been able to find good Unis offering journalism, besides UCLA and I don't know if I want to study mass com. Also doing pretty well for history last year, doing my EE in history and me hoping to do well for history this year, I do feel like I wanna take my learning of this discipline to a higher level. So I was telling him how I'm applying for the SPH scholarship (4 year bond for singapore unis, 6 for overseas) where you can study anything, but you gotta come back to work for SPH after that yada yada, so he said why not study history while you're at it? That sounds awesome, so awesome that I wonder why I haven't thought about it before. Sniff.

13) Time flies. House flies.

14) I've crossed my fingers, my brow, my eyes and my heart, hope to die. Here's to Saturday.

15) Joe Morrison and the gang, sounds so different. Maybe I need to start accepting change, and recognizing the benefits that change brings, but I miss John Dykes, Andrew Leci and the gang. No homo.

16) I really, really want to do well in French. It's more than an academic pursuit now, it's like the advent to a new culture, language and outlook on life. I haven't been taken it as seriously as I had Chinese and all in its heyday and I hope there's still time. :(

17) Watching Prison Break Season 2 faithfully every week since the beginning is so gratifying, namely because I had to wait a week for it. In the age where you can get past seasons, present seasons, and even seasons they haven't even made on the internet, it felt good, although a little stupid and old fashioned, to catch a series in all it's serial glory.

18) woohoo 18. The novelty still hasn't worn off. It's pathethic how happy and eager I am to whip out my ID nowadays. hahahaha

Incoherent, meandering stream of consciousness done. happiness! ! !

2007-08-12T20:44:00.000+08:00

MY GOSH WE JUST GOT A PENALTY!

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

CAN ONE LA!

ideas

2007-08-12T20:08:00.000+08:00

I wouldn't mind a new template, address or host of this site to fulfil the recalcitrant longings for change, improvement, and if you're in Singapore, 'upgrading'. Something whiter, with black font? Sometimes I wonder if the current template's verging on the unreadable and convoluted. Too black la, sometimes. So any suggestions? Thankew.

Anyway, speaking of change, it's an old, somewhat cliched adage, but it seems like the only thing that has been constant in my life thus far is my desire to zhng it. It's a potent and heady mix, ambition, contentment, regret, satisfaction, fulfilment, pride, resignation, acceptance and how to balance all of them in the right degrees as you live out your life.

And as I approach the big one-eight (with the big two-one, three o, four o, five o etc to go), I just wanna live, you know, with a shirt that says I went through IB and all I got was these 42 points. You know, I wanna prove to myself that it's not too late, that I can turn this thing around, although the niggling worry that yeah you've missed the last train punk starts to snowball this time of year.

It's agonizing, but maybe not as agonizing as how the Arsenal Fulham match is going now. My gosh, so many wasted chances, whatifs and whatcouldhavebeens.

hahaha sounds familar. But its' ok, 10 mins/1 mth more. Singlish puts it so succinctly.

Can one la.

2007-08-08T22:19:00.001+08:00

The line 'I'm contemplating, thinking 'bout thinking' is poetry I tell you, something that wouldn't be outta place in a Wachowski brothers limerick. Very dip stuf. I'm a little, fine I lied more than a little happier than I was yesterday. Maybe it's coz I got everything out of the system and experienced exceedingly high amounts of catharsis over the span of 20 hours, or something like that, but I guess I don't feel that much of a wastrel anymore.

Nah actually it was the 4 math worksheets done today (Go on, COUNT em.) Nothing to take away your problems like some mind busting, knee jerking good ol' mecks to kick start your heart. Anything higher than SL level might have adverse side effects though..

Tomorrow's National Day. A little scrunched up plastic flag peeks out from the edge of my bedside table, next to some postcards, notes, little flowery gifts (!) and other paraphernalia. I'm proud to be Singaporean. Really, no matter how much I kpkb, I've come to realize that this is...home...truly, where I know I must be. where my- hmm maybe not. But yeah, can't leave this place man. Haha.

Anyhow It has always peeved me when foreignerse go konichiwa or nihaoma to Singaporeans overseas., squinting their eyes till they see you in a discernibly, or till their eyes are the same size as yours. I never kena before, but my cousins who migrated to Long Island years ago did, and lived to tell the tale. Also, I love how asking questions in an American accent belies a sense of wonder and curiosity unlike any other tongue in the world. Put those two together, intentionally curious and ignorant Americans, and probably unintentionally curious and ignorant accents, and boom you get Discovery Travel and Living's 5 Takes and World Cafe Asia, or more specifically, their episodes featuring Sing ger poor.

'Oh My God, you suck the marrow out of the bone?'

'Well this national dish, the roti prata, is accompanied by an Indian Curry! It has a tomato base, with spices such as corriander, star aniseed and yes, it packs a real kick.'

' As I followed the boy into the temple, I could feeeel the energy, the sacredness, of the place. It was so inspiring, to come to South East Asia, to experience the culture, and to take it away with me. '

Well all I can say to that is...

2007-08-07T22:24:00.001+08:00

Please forgive me as I engage in a little bit of stream of consciousness. I'm not gonna press backspace, and we'll see how it goes. Aiyah don't even know why i'm hyping this up, its not like there'
s a reason why whatever I'm writing here will remotely interest people, if there are people lurking or reading this in passing at all. It's like I'm not even interested in this anymore. It's like I think, ooh let's blog about something, or hey inspiration I have got to write it down, and abruptly it all goes to waste and I feel empty, and for lack of better vocabulary, desolate.

I refresh this page and I see nothing. Nothing noteworthy, nothing exciting, nothing that is well alive. I look at my life and I am not surprised to experience the same. I'm hardly interested in myself no more.

I don't know, in my immediate future what the hell I'm living for. I relish these next three months. I'm supposed to attack the books, the worksheets, the worsks with the menace and venom of a global citizen with 45 emblazoned on my chest. I don't feel that way though. I find my life, well pathethic.

I don't know why I'm so unhappy. I have so many things, and people to be thankful for. I've got God watching my back too, and how can you complain when you've got Him on your side?
But now, in front of my computer, with hollow eyes I see that I have nothing good going for me, or rather, I haven't made in good in anything. I feel so inept, inadequte, helpless and it's like I'm fumbling, groping and stumbling over in the dark. And I'm typing this with lead coursing through my veins. It's so pathethic, feeble, and hopelessly bleak, it's funny.

Am I emo? hahahahaha. What a stupid term. Hell yea I'm emo. I feel lost and directionless. Do I even have to state or ask if you mind my state of mind?

I haven't written on this site for a long time (less than a month or so?) because I feel that people shouldn't have to listen to me saying how I have nothing to say. Also I feel like the quill has torn, the nib has smashed and all good writing sensibility has been sundered as my vocabulary detirorates and I feel hopelesly inferior to those who get 23/24 upon 25 for lit (no offence btw, all of you are gdlke.) But the shit has hit the fan, to put it rather politely. Dudes, Buay tahan la. I'm having those outta body experiences, ya know the ones where you look from a far, and you feel you're not getting anything outta this body, or mind, and soul, while we're at it.

I feel inept with regards to work and school, two things which I know are my priorities and my raisons d'etre .. School's passing by in a flash, and I'm saying it'll all be better eventually. I'll get my desired points, and yes, it'll all be fluffy and right. But time's running out. I've got enough kicks in the groin to tell me to start now. But it's so difficult, My academic prospects seem pointless now. As in literally pointless. I can get into the staid tirades about how I don't have mugging practice from Olvls, how I've been really busy, etc etc but nahhh, I know the IB gods have cast me away from their gaze and I'm just a lowlife low point slacker in their eyes. But I repent!!Really...I'll start tommorow.

And then there's army. I've been running away from this for so long (ah hah the irony). Running that is. People tell me, ah it's ok if you go in early. You've got no time to train now what. You'll get fit faster and BMT will be much easier etc etc. But I want 4 months. To live. I wanna go Cambodia after prom, not Tekong. I wanna apply for an internship at SPH, so I can get a taste of my dream life as a journalist. I wanna act again, or do something in the media which the good people at Mediacorp said I can do after my exams. I don't dread army, but I don't wanna be in there before I have to you know. There's so many things I wanna do, so many people I wanna meet, and I'm truly afraid that I'll miss out, like the kid who waited a whole year for the party of the lifetime and marked the wrong date of his calendar or overslept. I can still train and take my napfa again. Hell I didn't even complete it the first time, because 'I'll train in the june hols so I can take all the stations at once' and look where Mr Fit is now. And I don't know if I should start now, because I'm weary, not from 20 pull ups but the amount of false hope I've shoved down my throat. Also, I have to concentrate on studying. So where got time to train pull ups. Ah whatever, I've run more excuses than treadmills in my time. What's the use.

Finally there's that small little thing called the heart, that beats so profoundly, achingly, and stupidly that I've ran out of adjectives to describe it already. This merits a whole new post, but ah I don't need to go into specifics. Let's just say that I know too much, and too little to express my feelings. After all, what can a soon to be 18 year old say about love and loss? half soppy grin ,half abject sigh.

That reminds me, I'm 18 in a week and am tired, wasted. How can? Thank you for for reading so much of this drivel up till now by the way, and I guess I'll end here. Anyhow the Zest is gone, to quote Anna Karenina. I needa find it again. Hopefully 17 showers bring 18 flowers, as well as more consistent writing, to massacre a perfectly fine and encouraging anecdote.

Scissor Sisters Live - Take Your Mama

2007-08-05T00:28:00.001+08:00

Everything's been normal.As seen above. Nothing to worry about and I'll write something substantial soon.

hey there you

2007-07-12T20:09:00.000+08:00

Hey there you
Way out there in the distance
Can you hear me
Are you there

I know it's late
So please forgive my persistence
But I'm hanging
Do you care

So lay back
Call off the attack
Cause if you look deep
Dreams are nothing that I lack

And all I seek
A final chance to speak
And I would let the whole thing keep
If I could just sleep

Hey there you
Way out there could you show me
Just a signal
Or a sign

That after all
All these years that you've known me
And I'm not just killing time

So lay back
Call off the attack
Cause if you look deep
Dreams are nothing that I lack

And all I seek
A final chance to speak
But I would let the whole thing keep
If I could just sleep

As I lay there late at night
Building castles in the air
Out of alibis and all those little lies
And then I look inside
And pray that I don't care

I don't care

I don't care

Hey there you

Way out there in the distance

2007-07-10T17:35:00.001+08:00

The worst time to have a heart attack, is during a game of charades.

Optimus Prime: Death of a Hero

2007-07-03T17:54:00.001+08:00

If the movie is 1/56th as good as this, I'm sold. Easy enough Bay-sy?

Please? (:

2007-06-28T22:26:00.001+08:00

2007-06-24T22:58:00.000+08:00

I've always been a semi-believer of online quizzes and memes. I mean, below all the fluff, there has to be a shard of truth or something right? And some are pretty funny, like those superhero ones, some interesting, like the what kind of writer are you types, and some are well, just plain weird, mmm like "Which brand of genital enlargement pill best suits your personality." DON'T ASK. I actually saw that online before. Ugh. As in the quiz, not the..ah never mind.

Anyway, internet insights into your personality have been many things. But never deep, insightful and prophetic?! Until now. It's called the Colorgenics Test. (thanks to hawn for the link) And yes, it's 'amazingly accurate', as quoted on the front page of the site, telling me in entire paragraphs about the me that I could never express in words, and all all from a few coloured boxes.

http://www.paulgoldin.com/colorgenics.htm

"You are constantly hoping that your good fellowship and attitude and your 'love for your fellow man (or women)' will give you peace of mind. You need people - people around you to care for you and to show you that they care. It is this hope that keeps you going, the hope that makes you the type of person that indeed you are. Your own need for approval seemingly makes you always ready to help others and in exchange you seek love, warmth and understanding. You will always listen to others and you are open to new ideas which hopefully will prove fruitful and interesting.

You don't feel as if you can go it on your own anymore. You don't want to be taken for granted. You need to be recognised as a 'caring person' and it could be that you are searching to establish a relationship, not necessarily with someone new, but with that someone special who could feel the same way as you do.

At times all of us would like to be like the ostrich - to be able to bury our heads in the sand and let the rest of the world go by, but unfortunately you can't do just that - you have to face up to reality. A little peace and quiet would be most acceptable at this time but if only one could turn a blind eye to the problems of the day! Tomorrow is another day and who knows, it could be 'today' (not tomorrow) that could be the first day of the rest of your life!

You are presently experiencing excessive stress as a result of self-restraint. You act and think differently from the common herd and you want to be liked and admired for yourself and to associate with people who feel and act as you do. Because of this need to be self-reliant and to break away from mediocrity, you are finding this situation most uncomfortable and you are experiencing considerable anxiety - perhaps even more than you feel the capacity to cope with. You need to find a 'soul mate', someone whose standards are as high as your own - but where? Keep on searching... The situation is uncomfortable and you would like to break away from it, but you refuse to compromise with your opinions. You are unable to resolve the situation because you are continually postponing the making of necessary decisions. You are stubborn but this is no deterrent to a happy life, so why drop your standards. Think positively, everything will work out. It has worked out successfully for you in the past and it will again in the future.

The tensions induced by trying to cope with conditions are really beyond your capabilities. This has resulted in experiencing considerable anxiety and stress. You are looking for confirmation from your nearest and dearest that you have the ability and strength to fulfil all of your needs and to be completely self-sufficient.When matters don't go right for you - you tend to become inhibited and blame others for your inadequacy. You feel that there must be a way out from all the trials and tribulations that you have been experiencing of late and you are right - there is a solution - so don't give in, keep searching."

Thierry Henry

2007-06-24T19:48:00.001+08:00

2007-06-24T19:32:00.000+08:00

"But Henry believes Gunners fans have every reason to be optimistic despite his decision to jump ship, and is adamant the talent is already there to fill his sizeable boots.

The former Juventus and Monaco frontman compares the situation now facing Arsenal to that encountered in 2005 when former captain and midfield lynchpin Patrick Vieira left for Juve. Cesc Fabregas emerged immediately as a world-class replacement and was central to a run to the Champions League final the next season.

And Henry believes history will repeat itself in his wake.

He continued: 'The team here is growing and there is some amazing talent here and I do think this is the right time for Robin van Persie, Emmanuel Adebayor and Nicklas Bendtner, who is coming back from Birmingham, to shine.

'Hopefully they will do it. As soon as you know they can do it, they will forget about me, that's the way it is... " - Soccernet.com

Non, Monsieur Henry. Tu as inoubliable. :(

Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine

2007-06-18T16:53:00.001+08:00

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away

2007-06-10T22:56:00.000+08:00

'I have something to tell you' - www.threadless.com

So now I'm back

from outerspace.

2007-06-06T17:39:00.000+08:00

I didn't know I was quietly linked on my church mates' blogs. I didn't even know they had blogs. And now I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the incredulity of me allowing myself to be tossed around like a rowboat among the rocks in a tempest, when there was a lighthouse lighting my way back home for so long.

There are still plans to make all of this right. It's just that they aren't mine no more.

2007-06-06T15:02:00.000+08:00

I think this ranks among my top 10 'songs to perform before I die'. It's beautiful. I'm at home, 3pm on a Wednesday afternoon not really doing anything fruitful and yet yearning to do so, fascinated by the notion of nonchalance, and how people can mask, or even suppress raw emotion and feeling, looking distant and unfazed.

Why has everything got to be so hard? Why can't it be so? What I gotta do to make you love me? What I gotta do to make you care?Can you feel the love tonight? I think I've gone beyond asking rhetorical questions through hot tears nowadays,which I'm glad at, but I guess I'm still painting portraits and etching scenery with fading colours that never were, shimmering lights that glowed once and then died out.

And then you see it. After a while you realize that its not that nonchalance means unfeeling, or that people with poker faces keep their cards close to their chest with fear, but rather grin and bear it, or que sera sera , is what brings you out of the dark wilderness and into a marvellous light. And I don't know what or Who's keeping the light on,

but it sure feels better...I hope.

Cheers Campaign Ads

2007-05-30T23:10:00.001+08:00

2007-05-28T21:01:00.001+08:00

I embraced Singapore today on this first day of the hols.

Chucking academia aside, my entire morning and afternoon was consumed at Depot road with my ns medical. I won't spoil it for anyone here, but if anything just hope that they find your vein the first time. Hahaha.
But seriously I felt that much more like an eighteen year old upon taking the compulsory photograph in the recruit uniform, as lame as that sounds, declaring that no I don't smoke or have a tattoo, that my highest qualification is PSLE and yes sir I did go to secondary school, receiving my NS recruit's guide, learning the acronyms, learning what PES really means amongst other things, seeing other 18 year olds from all walks of life (and er arthur,nigel,yuen gi and hans) going through the same things for those five hours, and well, eating my first meal at the canteen. Condemn. But seriously, x2, I'm gonna embrace the rest of my sheltered life centered on studying and achieving paper goals because once that is done, I have to start being a man.

So I went home trying to psyche myself up for focus camp tmr, but all I have been doing (and I admit rather readily) is watching youtube videos on Singapore. It's a pretty intriguing mix. And it all started from watching hokkien bond for the 13136361719th time. That led me to 'Chinese uncle and malay boy fight in singapore bus', 'Singapore bus incident 1', 'singapore bus incident 2' etc etc. Till I came to 'Singapore Rebel', a short about Chee Soon Juan that was never showed commercially in Singapore due to it's 'political' nature. nnnoooo sshhiittt.

And then I came to this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rc8C0oKXbWk

Royston Tan's 15. Yeah the whole thing's on youtube, sadly enough. I wanted to buy it the other time, but I was underaged then...ah never mind. Anyway this section (Part 4) is particularly poignant, and I don't know, I'd like to say that it stirs up mixed feelings within about role reversals, and my identity as a chaoangmohkia, but well, it doesn't do the movie justice to critique it like a chaoangmohkia. And I'd post the actual clip, but nah. wait till other chaoangmohkias don't like. (:

Anyway just a heads up la it's a little violent and vulgar, but we're all mature enough I hope, and it's pretty chastising.. Actually, I feel pretty inept, and pretentious writing here. It's a real no other city moment, if you know what I mean..deep singaporean poetry that don't tackle the heart of the matter. Sigh. the whole don't know who's right feeling. mmm.

2007-05-25T22:49:00.001+08:00

There's a plan to make all of this right

Optimus Prime: Death of a Hero

2007-05-23T06:57:00.003+08:00

Just wanna say how proud I am of the Anglo-Chinese School (Independent) A Div Rugby and Tennis Teams. Obviously losing sucks, I know that sinking feeling all too well. But still that was one hella fight you put up, and the AC Spirit that rose up into the air from the pitch was immense. Nothing comes close.

Hope the supporters helped. All 30 of them in the front two rows. What I don't get, is how people can sit there being nonchalant, as if they're in a damn lecture, giggling, scratching, perfecting the art of looking bored, while ACS is fighting their hearts out on the pitch. And I don't get how you bermuda-clad children can don the yellow jersey and yet behave like primary school kids on their first excursion to the zoo. Whatever happened to supporting your damn seniors? You don't deserve to wear that shirt, really.

Now who's asking you to bawl like a baby when we lose, or mope around as if your entire detached world came crumbling down. All that is needed, is support. Look RJ's council is probably bigger than our entire cohort already, hence the last thing we need is ambivalence and apathy from ACSians who were called down to rally our teams on the pitch and on the courts to success. I'd rather you not be there than sitting there looking listless. I don't even understand rugby as much as I do other sports. But it's not about rugby, it's not so much about the individuals playing, although having your close friends play makes the event even more significant. The only thing that matters, to me, is that ACS (Independent) is out there sweating blood and we, on the sidelines have a duty to carry our school. It's ok if we don't win, but at least we could say we stood up to be counted and roused our comrades on the pitch.

Anyway you probably won't understand what I'm saying if you don't have it already. And if you're rollling your eyes, thinking that I am a crazed zealot who's getting all emotional and restless all over a mere school cup final which I'm not even a part of, then there's really not much to be said after all. The Year Sixes on the first and second row, especially those who came to the front to cheer, were awesome. And is it a coincidence that most of us down there were JS men? There's something imbued within us, as in the Year Sixes that actually cared, that I felt manifested itself louder than anything ra ra ra rafffles could ever do.

Too bad apathy was the only winner in the stands of the red blue gold that day.

wah

2007-05-20T22:14:00.000+08:00

wah i clicked view blog and realized that having a Staind song as your front post adds points to the bleak-o-meter. Not good. In fact I put the first verse of a song up mainly because it's more credible than a youtube video. And also because youtube's taking ages to post the 'Optimus Prime - Death of a Hero' clip that I so must share with this ipod generation.

The past month has been a blur, really. There was the good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly and the pretty ugly. But mostly it has been disarming. Like one day it feels like you're walking on sunshine, then you kena sunburn the next. But I guess looking back on recent times with a smile rather than a frown means that maybe, omigosh just maybe, the storm clouds are clearing and slowly we're getting to where they told us we'd be at four years ago in red classrooms where everything was happy and more often than not, gay.

And it may be kinda late, but the ruse that Chock, brother liow and shawn pulled off was ingenious. Hats off. But more importantly, it showed that hey, ib has some vestige of humour, goodwill and 1 slide exam briefing powerpoints left beneath the cold, hard and sleepless exterior. I felt a tangible weight lift off from lt 1 that day, coupled by the talk about prom,murals and etheral things that we recognized but have not considered or embraced for a good while now, and frankly, I'm grateful that the creases on our collective forehead could ease out just a little, and that we could take things less seriously just for once.

I may be dreaming though, and IB the cruel monster's just giving us the lull before the storm, and me being somewhat pleased that I have completed tokee and most IAs besides World Lit 1 is actually its inisidious ploy to make me complacent and forget that I have CAS, 48 to the power of pi Bio Practs, IOC preparation, and the general activity of studying so I get 7 points for all my subjects left to do.

In fact I shouldn't even be writing now. And I just remembered I have to do the '50 words to describe IB' thing for the council which I have put off since week 4. SIGH. 50 words don't do this entity justice.

Anyhow I'm really looking forward to our sports matches this week, Hopefully the rugby, tennis and hockey teams will do what the band couldn't, which is erm..win. I miss cheering my trachea out. But I think I miss people more. People are great. :( But good Lord it's the end of May already. People need to know that they're great.

Also, I've decided on like 18 occasions that they're gonna play The Spirit Carries On at my funeral. If you haven't heard the song, let me know so you can sing along in the future. haha.

Speaking of funerals , here's hoping youtube gets Optimus Prime - Death of a Hero up in here soon. I need to cry like I was 5 again. Best form of catharsis I've ever known.

Have a great week everyone (:

2007-05-19T22:55:00.000+08:00

This is my life

It's not what it was before

All these feelings I’ve shared

And these are my dreams

That I’d never lived before

Somebody shake me

Cause I, I must be sleeping.

Radiohead - Karma Police

2007-05-10T16:11:00.001+08:00

It's 1.30am. I have to get up and get to Darren's house in four and a half hours. I like the lyrics of this song.

mourinho

2007-05-08T23:22:00.001+08:00

"I'm very proud of my players. Normally when a team has a lot of success and loses a championship it's lack of motivation, not the same spirit or ambition, but it was exactly the opposite. My team was brilliant.'' - Jose Mourinho

Over the past couple of days on the back of man yoo gaining back the EPL title, I've developed a grudging respect for Jose Mourinho, stemming from his public display of recognition, approval and solidarity towards his team at the end of the match against Arsenal. Chin up, his body language intoned. It may have been wonderful PR or a subtle attempt to keep his job, but his reaction to failure and adversity is, sigh admittedly admirable, I alliterate.

So then I wonder, what defines failure? Inability to obtain set objectives or aspirations? Loss of self belief? Wrong ideas? Wrong methods? Being unable to adapt or change circumstance? I don't know, ask wiki lor.We can recognize the feeling of failure, the gnawing dull pang in the stomach and chest, but it's hard to distinctinly describe. I have an idea though, that failure is not judged, or decided by the end result, but rather by the processes and attitudes that were invested and like, the lousy test score, absence of a championship medal, the gold award in syf are all but mere manifestations of the knowledge that more effort, more work could have been put in and change the status quo.

Sigh, on a weak where I'm so physically and emotionally drained that they should name a reservoir after me, and stab me after for cracking stupid jokes, I've realized how closely linked failure and regret is. In fact, the feeling of failure's but another word for regret. We say we fail because we could have, we should have, we would have done better if we only...etc etc etc. It's a very simtia feeling because you know you could have got what you desired, you know you had the potential, but the lack of propensity to work for what you want ruined everything.

Mourinho dosen't think Chelsea failed. Sure, he goes on to state excuses such as "We had a big problem only to play all season only with (Ricardo) Carvalho at centre-half", but strikingly goes on to say "but now is not the moment to talk about that." soon after. Hell this dude realized that his team had gave 100%. Their 100% may not have been enough this season, but does it mean Chelsea has to wallow in not only wades of cash and oil, but self pity as well?

Niet! (warning: bandie gone wild)

If we gave our all during practice, watched Dr Lee microscopically, for a lack of a better term, perfected our intonation by never forgetting to bring a tuner or to listen out for each other, came for every practice punctually, refrained from saying dumb shit during combined, gave Dr Lee that utter, unadulterated concentration he so fully deserves...if we did ALL of this and More, and only got a dull, faded, and heart wrenching gold. I'll be disappointed, yes. I would scream refree kayu, yes. But I'd have no regrets. I wouldn't say we 'failed'. We would have done a Chelsea, who arguably fought to the end, all biasedness as a staunch Arsenal fan aside. If we did everything we could.

I think we're more like the Gunners though. On our day, our 100 % is better than anyone's 110. I sincerely believe with all my heart that if we actually took more shots outside the box, actually tried the hard and direct route of working the long and arduous ball and used our heads more often, we'd be world champions. We play beautifully, but our commitment and focus have to be present, or else all we have at the end is a souffle, to quote the great Mr. See, all form and no substance.

Gold With Honours

ain't coming to you on a silver platter. You can't simply pass your way into the top. 2 more days. Let's get our hands and mouths dirty and bloody do this. I sure as hell bid you stand, men of the west.

The Best Is Yet To Be.

2007-05-03T21:38:00.000+08:00

Hark! personality test!

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion:

You have high extroversion.You are outgoing and engaging, with both strangers and friends.You truly enjoy being with people and bring energy into any situation.Enthusiastic and fun, you're the first to say "let's go!"

Conscientiousness:

You have medium conscientiousness.You're generally good at balancing work and play.When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done.But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it.

Agreeableness:

You have medium agreeableness.You're generally a friendly and trusting person.But you also have a healthy dose of cynicism.You get along well with others, as long as they play fair.

Neuroticism:

You have medium neuroticism.You're generally cool and collected, but sometimes you do panic.Little worries or problems can consume you, draining your energy.Your life is pretty smooth, but there's a few emotional bumps you'd like to get rid of.

Openness to experience:

Your openness to new experiences is high.In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas.You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits.A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything

2007-05-03T01:37:00.000+08:00

Wow, I didn't know reading MSN message histories could be so painful. I thought the wounds had blossomed, were ephemeral, were washed down the river... But no, they're indestructable, constantly tugging at the heart going "There. You had it. She liked you. And you wasted it." That hurts, but maybe it's because I'm in love with the memories. Would I entertain the thought again? No. Over everything, over her I am already? Yes. So why do the old smileys, long replies and 'hahahahaha's hurt so bad?

Sometimes the numbing feeling causes itchiness and restlessness within and things are going downhill with me, quoting world lit like this.

Sigh. Carpe diem, kenneth.

2007-05-01T18:04:00.000+08:00

,
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting;
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best, which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Time still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

hesse

2007-04-29T22:23:00.000+08:00

Mr Hesse oh Mr Hesse

Where are those Mountains

That I can think like thee?

anniversary

2007-04-27T00:29:00.000+08:00

My parents will be celebrating their 23rd wedding anniversary come this Labour Day. My father however, dreamt of the 25th the other night. He envisioned a gold ballroom, filled with mingling guests and clinking glasses. He said he saw me take to a raised platform or stage, give a little speech and play for him and my mother the Elvis song 'you were always on my mind', with 'a couple of band people'. I'm never one to dissect dreams and understand the subconscious, although I am wont to say that I have a couple of years now to make that dream really come true.

I guess that song is a special song. There are pieces of music, manifestations of emotion that just constantly tug at your heart strings. They're different from tearjerkers, not fleeting and ephemeral but gnawing and aching, the same feeling you get after a cramp subsides, a dull pang that brings discomfort, but promise of relief as well. 'You Were Always On My Mind' is a heart tugger. The lyrics are beautifully conflicting, wrestling with the undescribable emotion of regret tinged affection. Makes me realize I don't tell the people I love and cherish that I do, often enough. Some have left, physically and intangibly as well. And like many a gray final year in IB night, I tell myself not to have many regrets, not to look back at this period of my life ten, twenty years down the road and go 'if only...'

I wish the title to the song was 'But you were always on my mind', where the word could, like a damp cotton bud moisten the wound and ease the sharp pain just a tad. 'But you were always on my mind' allows me to find a little solace and reprive, as if saying 'hey I cared for you although I didn't do the right thing and show it' would help numb the hurt of lost. Which is why as Elvis croons ruefully,

"Maybe I didn't hold you all those lonely, lonely times,
And I guess I never told you, I'm so happy that you're mine,
If I made you feel second best, I'm sorry, I was blind. "

I prayed desperately that he could atone, amend, or even come to terms with his guilt by telling the girl he loved,

'But you were always on my mind'.

Actually, I'm glad he didn't. Without the conjunction the titular is isolated and feeble, sad and inadequete, like an old man in a storm trying to find his bearings. Regret is a painful thing. Remorse, shame and embarrassment may sting, but regret just took heart pain to a new level.

So in short, no one can read your mind. Tell people you love them. Please?

Goodnight.

2007-04-23T22:56:00.001+08:00

wanna go back to om sweet om baby

om sweet om

2007-04-22T21:28:00.000+08:00

got this from brendan's blog, hope you don't mind man (:

Singapore’s ‘Martyr,’ Chee Soon Juan

July/August 2006

By Hugo Restall

Striding into the Chinese restaurant of Singapore’s historic Fullerton Hotel, Chee Soon Juan hardly looks like a dangerous revolutionary. Casually dressed in a blue shirt with a gold pen clipped to the pocket, he could pass as just another mild-mannered, apolitical Singaporean. Smiling, he courteously apologizes for being late—even though it is only two minutes after the appointed time.

Nevertheless, according to prosecutors, this same man is not only a criminal, but a repeat offender. The opposition party leader has just come from a pre-trial conference at the courthouse, where he faces eight counts of speaking in public without a permit. He has already served numerous prison terms for this and other political offenses, including eight days in March for denying the independence of the judiciary. He expects to go to jail again later this year.

Mr. Chee does not seem too perturbed about this, but it drives Singaporean Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong up the wall. Asked about his government’s persecution of the opposition during a trip to New Zealand last month, Mr. Lee launched into a tirade of abuse against Mr. Chee. “He’s a liar, he’s a cheat, he’s deceitful, he’s confrontational, it’s a destructive form of politics designed not to win elections in Singapore but to impress foreign supporters and make himself out to be a martyr,” Mr. Lee ranted. “He’s deliberately going against the rules because he says, ‘I’m like Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi. I want to be a martyr.’”

Coming at the end of a trip in which the prime minister essentially got a free ride on human rights from his hosts—New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark didn’t even raise the issue—this outburst showed a lack of self-control and acumen. Former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew, the man who many believe still runs Singapore and who is the current prime minister’s father, has said much the same things about Mr. Chee—“a political gangster, a liar and a cheat”—but that was at home, and in the heat of an election campaign.Mr. Chee smiles when it’s suggested that he must be doing something right. “Every time he says something stupid like that, I think to myself, the worst thing to happen would be to be ignored. That would mean we’re not making any headway,” he agrees.

But one charge made by the government does stick: Mr. Chee is not terribly concerned about election results. Which is just as well, because his Singapore Democratic Party did not do very well in the May 6 polls. It would be foolish, he suggests, for an opposition party in Singapore to pin its hopes on gaining one, or perhaps two, seats in parliament. He is aiming for a much bigger goal: bringing down the city-state’s one-party system of government. His weapon is a campaign of civil disobedience against laws designed to curtail democratic freedoms.

“You don’t vote out a dictatorship,” he says. “And basically that’s what Singapore is, albeit a very sophisticated one. It’s not possible for us to effect change just through the ballot box. They’ve got control of everything else around us.” Instead what’s needed is a coalition of civil society and political society coming together and demanding change—a color revolution for Singapore.

So far Mr. Chee doesn’t seem to be getting much, if any traction. While many Singaporeans don’t particularly like the PAP’s arrogant style of government, the ruling party has succeeded in depoliticizing the population to the extent that anybody who presses them to take action to make a change is regarded with resentment. And in a climate of fear—Mr. Chee lost his job as a psychology lecturer at the national university soon after entering opposition politics—a reluctance to get involved is hardly surprising.

Why is all this oppression necessary in a peaceful and prosperous country like Singapore where citizens otherwise enjoy so many freedoms? Mr. Chee has his own theory that the answer lies with strongman Lee Kuan Yew himself: “Why is he still so afraid? I honestly think that through the years he has accumulated enough skeletons in his closet that he knows that when he is gone, his son and the generations after him will have a price to pay. If we had parliamentary debates where the opposition could pry and ask questions, I think he is actually afraid of something like that.”

That raises the question of whether Singapore deserves its reputation for squeaky-clean government. A scandal involving the country’s biggest charity, the National Kidney Foundation, erupted in 2004 when it turned out that its Chief Executive T.T. Durai was not only drawing a $357,000 annual salary, but the charity was paying for his first-class flights, maintenance on his Mercedes, and gold-plated fixtures in his private office bathroom.The scandal was a gift for the opposition, which naturally raised questions about why the government didn’t do a better job of supervising the highly secretive NKF, whose patron was the wife of former Prime Minister Goh Chok Tong (she called Mr. Durai’s salary “peanuts”). But it had wider implications too. The government controls huge pools of public money in the Central Provident Fund and the Government of Singapore Investment Corp., both of which are highly nontransparent. It also controls spending on the public housing most Singaporeans live in, and openly uses the funds for refurbishing apartment blocks as a bribe for districts that vote for the ruling party. Singaporeans have no way of knowing whether officials are abusing their trust as Mr. Durai did.

It gets worse. Mr. Durai’s abuses only came to light because he sued the Straits Times newspaper for libel over an article detailing some of his perks. Why was Mr. Durai so confident he could win a libel suit when the allegations against him were true? Because he had done it before. The NKF won a libel case in 1998 against defendants who alleged it had paid for first-class flights for Mr. Durai. This time, however, he was up against a major bulwark of the regime, Singapore Press Holdings; its lawyers uncovered the truth.

Singaporean officials have a remarkable record of success in winning libel suits against their critics. The question then is, how many other libel suits have Singapore’s great and good wrongly won, resulting in the cover-up of real misdeeds? And are libel suits deliberately used as a tool to suppress questioning voices?

The bottling up of dissent conceals pressures and prevents conflicts from being resolved. For instance, extreme sensitivity over the issue of race relations means that the persistence of discrimination is a taboo topic. Yet according to Mr. Chee it is a problem that should be debated so that it can be better resolved. “The harder they press now, the stronger will be the reaction when he’s no longer around,” he says of Lee Kuan Yew.

The paternalism of the PAP also rankles, especially since foreigners get more consideration than locals. The World Bank and International Monetary Fund will hold their annual meeting in Singapore this fall, and have been trying to convince the authorities to allow the usual demonstrations to take place. The likely result is that international NGO groups will be given a designated area to scream and shout. “So we have a situation here where locals don’t have the right to protest in their own country, while foreigners are able to do that,” Mr. Chee marvels. Likewise, Singaporeans can’t organize freely into unions to negotiate wages; instead a National Wages Council sets salaries with input from the corporate sector, including foreign chambers of commerce.

All these tensions will erupt when strongman Lee Kuan Yew dies. Mr. Chee notes that the ruling party is so insecure that Singapore’s founder has been unable to step back from front-line politics. The PAP still needs the fear he inspires in order to keep the population in line. Power may have officially passed to his son, Lee Hsien Loong, but even supporters privately admit that the new prime minister doesn’t inspire confidence.

During the election, Prime Minister Lee made what should have been a routine attack on multiparty democracy: “Suppose you had 10, 15, 20 opposition members in parliament. Instead of spending my time thinking what is the right policy for Singapore, I’m going to spend all my time thinking what’s the right way to fix them, to buy my supporters’ votes, how can I solve this week’s problem and forget about next year’s challenges?” But of course the ominous phrases “buy votes” and “fix them” stuck out. That is the kind of mistake, Mr. Chee suggests, Lee Sr. would not make.

“He’s got a kind of intelligence that would serve you very well when you put a problem in front of him,” he says of the prime minister. “But when it comes to administration or political leadership, when you really need to be media savvy and motivate people, I think he is very lacking in that area. And his father senses it as well.”

However, the elder Mr. Lee’s death—he is now 82—is a necessary but not sufficient condition for change. Another big factor is how civil society is able to use new technologies to bypass PAP control over information and free speech. The government has tried to stifle political filmmaking, blogging and podcasting. Singapore Rebel, a 2004 film about Mr. Chee by independent artist Martyn See, was banned but is widely available on the Internet.

Meanwhile, pressure for Singapore to remain competitive in the region has sparked debate about the government’s dominant role in the economy. Can a top-down approach promote creativity and independent thinking? The need for transparency and accountability also means that Singapore will have to change. That is the source of Mr. Chee’s optimism in the face of all his setbacks: “I realize that Singapore is not at that level yet. But we’ve got to start somewhere. And I’m prepared to see this out, in the sense that in the next five, 10, 15 years, time is on our side. We need to continue to organize and educate and encourage. And it will come.”He doesn’t dwell on his personal tribulations, but mentions in passing selling his self-published books on the street. That is his primary source of income to feed his family, along with the occasional grant. As to the charge of wanting to be a martyr, once he started dissenting, he found it impossible to stop in good conscience. “The more you got involved, the more you found out what they’re capable of, it steels you, so you say, ‘No, I will not back down.’ It makes you more determined.”

Perhaps it’s in his genes. One of Mr. Chee’s daughters is old enough that she had to be told that her father was going to prison. She stood up before her class and announced, “My papa is in jail, but he didn’t do anything wrong. People have just been unfair to him.”

Mr. Restall is editor of the REVIEW.

wonder

2007-04-22T10:22:00.000+08:00

Good morning, Wonderful.

sigh

2007-04-20T23:00:00.000+08:00

Sighhh

My wallet and nano got koped today from my bag in the lt during band. Surprisingly, when I found out, I was erm, comfortably numb, to quote pink floyd. Besides the mandatory oshitz and wtfs, all I could muster emotionally was a rather staid 'when it rains it pours' feeling of resignation and weariness.

That scares me a little. Unfazed certainly didn't get anyone far in life...

2007-04-16T23:11:00.000+08:00

So I went to MOS Burger the other day and ordered a Yasukuni burger. Ya know, the one with the tender beef slices and grilled onions tucked inside fluffy white rice? The youngster at the cashier didn't, apparently and suggested the Yakiniku meal instead. I refused, for it wasn't class A enough for me. Sigh, IB invades the subconscious. :(

The Singapore band scene is pretty amusing actually, rife with politics, competition and emotion in the name of music. It's a most happening scene, with SYF being the happeningest of happening events within the scene and as my rare visits to Bandfusion.com has shown, means a whole lot to, well a whole lotta people.

So instead of going into whole strains of bandie talk and riffraff, I'll just say that tommorow I'll be expecting the most mindblowing confluence of sound that the Singapore Conference Hall has ever heard from the ACS(I) Symphonic Band. Seriously.

Godspeed.

2007-04-16T22:24:00.000+08:00

"Guys, please. I need you to cheer from your hearts for our ACS...We need all your support.."

Or something along those lines. In my six years in the school, the rugby team has never needed to garner favour from the general populace of the institution, for the simple reason that it was mandatory and commonplace for us to give our sportsmen, musicians, actors etc the support that could enable them move mountains. We're ACSians, no?

The new auditorium is pretty amazing in terms of stature and capacity, one of the largest in educational institutions if I'm not wrong, a corollolary of the influx of physical, psychological and social change. It was funnily quiet when we were requested to stand up to cheer, especially from the lower secondary levels, akin to a deathly chasm where all the ideas, notions and values cherished by the old guard evaporated into void.

The young man stood on the rostrum and gazed into the crowd, pleading with his eyes and voice. I saw his shoulders slump as he got a negligible response, nothing more than ambivalent laughter from mere children, too young to remember glory and to old to give a damn.

I had malaise. Those at the rostrum, in our school colours are never scorned this way. It was a pitiful sight. The contents of those rousing cheers echoed hollow, and only exacerbated my feelings of loss and despair in a sea of apathy.

Frankly I don't give a shit if you think I'm 'over enthu', 'on' or 'having too much time.' Actually, I don't give a shit either way. The old gods have died a long time ago.

I'll post some more later because I have things to do now. yinghua yinghua diyiming.

2007-04-16T19:03:00.001+08:00

napfa

2007-04-10T23:22:00.000+08:00

The Yuletide season has come early to Singapore. With ministers, teachers and even PM Lee himself apparently getting pay increases, it's certainly looks like a white white white christmas. But ho ho ho! That's not even the best of the goodies yet. Look what I found, on all places the Mindef website:

Jingle Bells!

Jingle All the Way!

Oh what fun it is to enlist

because I can be Pes A!

Anyway, I've been thinking about God. Of recent times I've come to find Bible Thumpers, "believe or you're going to hell" types and people who don't practice what they preach, well pretty irksome. I know why I haven't been as 'on fire' as these types, especially in school, where I don't attempt to assert my beliefs for the simple reason that I don't think I'm a good representation of what it means to be a Christian, although I believe with all my heart that Jesus loves me, and I love Him too.

I don't think I'm right to lay off evangilizing, or not trying to be as Christlike as I know I should. It's called the great commission. But I don't know, I don't put Bible verses as my msn screen names, blog about theology per se etc etc because I do not relish appearing as someone with all the head knowledge and that's it. I abhor hypocrisy, much more from a Christian. I guess this is what alot of non-believers feel as well, or why people are put off by Christians in certain situations. It's as if we Christians percieve ourselves to be morally and ethically superior to non-believers so we can talk down to them and yet behave like the sinner we are at the same time. I think it's a privilege, it's the epitome of a deal too good to be true and instead of slamming non-believers with the consequences of unbelief and using fear and apprehension as coercive tactics, why can't we as believers translate the love and grace showered upon us to like love for our fellow man?

I guess I don't like Sunday Christians. As a believer myself I have come across too many Christians who raise their hands to the ceiling during worship but have attitudes akin to a raised finger. Personally, I don't proclaim my faith as much as I should, because I know my shortcomings. I know I'm no image of Christ, but that doesn't mean I'm not trying to be a better person. Still before my walk matches my talk, I don't see myself in a position to ya know, evangilize. Which is why all I ask from Christians, or those who profess to be Christians, is for them to at least attempt to practice what they preach, literally.

I want to be humble because I don't deserve an ounce of His Love. I think that's the main reason why I honestly have not been sharing the Gospel or behaving as I should. It's hard to explain, hence my short, punctuated and stuttering sentences. I don't think I have to explain myself further. I just feel indebted to God to try to be a better person and well there's this song called Keeper and Sustainer of My Life by Dennis Jernigan I found from an old and dusty CD in my drawer just a while ago, which helped me get over some doubts and hopefully it will comfort anyone who sees this. No strings attached. No Bible thumped.

God Bless. I need to go think.

You are light in the darkness
Shelter from the storm
You are a shepard
Who will guide me
You are joy to all who mourn

You are bread of life that fills me
Living water when I'm dry
You are the keeper and sustainer of my life

Without your life
I know there is no life
For I was dead in sin
And You gave life to me

Without your life
I'd surely rather die
Lord Jesus live your life
through me

You are bread of life that fills me

Living water when I'm dry

You are the keeper and sustainer of my life

You are hope for the hopeless
Sight for all the blind
You are health for all the hurting
Healing heart and healing mind

You are plenty when there's nothing
You are peace admist all strife
You are the keeper and sustainer of my life.

Without your life

I know there is no life

For I was dead in sin

And You gave life to me

Without your life I'd surely rather die

Lord Jesus live your lifethrough me

You are plenty when there's nothing

You are peace admist all strife

You are the keeper and sustainer of my life.

2007-04-04T20:48:00.000+08:00

http://www.myspace.com/virginblackofficial If you've got a moment to spare in the hustle and bustle of your life, check Virgin Black's new song out. Please.

"Virgin Black (ver-jin blak) : An anomalous harmony between the juxtapositions of purity and humanity's darkness.

The music world is rife with bold claims that deliver little. Virgin Black is a band that has historically not only avoided that pitfall, but soared above it. The scope of its latest offering is ambitious almost to the point of absurdity. In a groundbreaking endeavour, Australia's premier experimentalists will release three albums simultaneously. Each is a separate entity, but each is also linked through recurring musical themes and artistic motifs. When fully unfurled in all its grandeur, listeners will experience a grandiloquent over two and a half hour Requiem Mass with three stages of evolution.

Requiem - pianissimo is an entirely classical album with instrumentation performed by the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, and featuring spectacular choral arrangements along with tenor, mezzo-soprano and soprano solo voices. "Requiem - pianissimo" forsakes guitars and drums in favour of the melancholic tragedy and bombastic dynamics of classical composition.

Requiem - mezzo forte is where the band joins the orchestra and strikes a balance more reminiscent of previous Virgin Black outings, albeit, with greater epic breadth.

Requiem - fortissimo unleashes a sound infinitely heavier than anything in Virgin Black's history. While still retaining an air of classical sensibility, it concludes the series with an intense dose of death/doom.

With Virgin Black, ambition is a given. REQUIEM is beyond ambition."

dt

2007-04-03T19:22:00.000+08:00

The new Dark Tranquillity album, "Fiction" will sound amazing, at least from the samples I've heard over the internet. When I thought the pioneers of Gothenburg melodic death metal could not get anymore melodic, here comes pieces characterized by wailing guitars and incredible harmonies, with amazingly beautiful piano parts creeping in and out the chaos and melee. And I haven't even got to Mikael "I can growl intelligbly" Stanne. A must buy. Sadly Heeren will probably stock it like next year for something akin to 80 bucks. haha.

Anyhow I think I've decided, under the influence of Anthony Bourdain's latest episode of No Reservations in Paris and the travelogues of Bologna and Belgium pubished in today's Life! that before I die I will travel across Europe, find myself a cosy spot in every outdoor cafe available, order the best coffee and the best local delicacies and just remain there, glistening and observing. I wouldn't mind dying in one of those chairs actually, head tilted heavenward, sunrays permeating everywhere. And besides, I probably won't get chased away for hogging the area. A side dream would be to open a similar cafe in Singapore, to force people, if anything to allow themselves to indulge in indulgence. But because of discrapencies in weather, cuisine, land resource and general attitude of citizens, it will for now, remain a dream.

In other news, I remember that when I was four and a half, my parents told me that "you'll have someone to play with soon". Having just entered nursery and actually enjoying the company of twenty other bundles of crack (including, holy shit, milton.hahaha), I couldn't wait for my sister to arrive to join the motley crew. At that point of time,I made absolutely no connection that the size of my mom's stomach was inversely proportionate to the amount of time left for a sibling to emerge. In fact, for a considerable while I thought my mom had redefined binging. Ah, I was pretty damn shocked when she told me, my eyes squriming and trying to make sense of the pink cloth wrapped baby in the nursery at the hospital, that my sister had to grow up and not appear from the start as my peer.

Now shas just entered secondary school. Soon it would be sweet sixteen. And I'll be, hmmm 21. Curiously enough, that does not seem that far away. Another cool factoid it'll be 2010, when Singapore wins the world cup. Besides, I just got my NS Documentation and Medical Check Up letter in the mail two days ago.

The world spins on...

2007-04-03T19:13:00.000+08:00

Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain

I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end

I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend

But I always thought that I'd see you again

2007-03-29T21:31:00.000+08:00

Dear God,

Mama jus called. She say what i want fo dinner we at fish n co. I stop to think and I say mama I don't know is late and we shdn't eat so lat- mama cut me off and says just tell me what you craving for child and I say oh mama, new york fish n chip mama oh and she says fine and she hungs up the phone. Is nice, new york fish n i've been readin too much 'f that colour purple book and stuff..

2007-03-27T21:25:00.000+08:00

Blogger, why did you delete my post as i click publish? Is it some game, some tomfoolery that you wish to perform because you're popular and you know that even after this I'll still come back and write some more? Has it occured to your google bought over mind that the post I just agonized upon for eons meant something to me? Alright whatever. I have work to do and I can't just spend the entire evening rewriting a gazillion words just because you're playing coy.

Up yours Blogger, and cya in a bit.

2007-03-23T22:24:00.000+08:00

I wish every day was a chilly evening on the streets of Europe. Cobbled roads lit up only by the warm glow of street lamps, drizzle pelting the ground and a million people heading somewhere, arms clutching an umbrella or placed deep in the recesses of coats, heads bowed and feet gliding against each other as if in purposeful choreography. As the wind howls behind your back you can smell heavenly aromas and fragrances wafting from a hotdog stand or night market, the smell of grilled onions or burnt coffee, hitting you like a welcome brick in the midst of the damp coldness that pervades.

And then I wake up and realize that yes its wet and cold, but not in that neo-romantic way I imagined it to be. Rather, it's the get down from a crowded, pressure cooker of a bus into the throngs of disgruntled and disillusioned Singaporeans at a bus stop - manner of wet and cold. Like a can of sardines, even.

But when the wind hit me, after I trudged out of that cramp, stifling confluence of people, it was amazing. Refreshing, and if I dare say, life giving. Stirred up plenty delusions of cobbled streets, warm smells, fur coats, and people going somewhere, some place, in choreographed purposeful strides.

bbq

2007-03-19T18:06:00.000+08:00

anna

2007-03-18T19:42:00.000+08:00

"He looked at the sky, hoping to find there the shell he had admired, which had embodied for him the whole train of thoughts and feelings of the past night. There was no longer anything resembling a shell in the sky. There, in the inaccessible heights, a mysterious change had already been accomplished. No trace of the shell was left, but spread over half the sky was a smooth carpet of ever diminishing fleecy clouds. The sky had turned blue and radiant, and with the same tenderness, yet also with the same inaccessibility, it returned his questioning look.

'No,' he said to himself, 'however good that life of simplicity and labour may be, I cannot go back to it. I love her.' "

- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

ah

2007-03-18T11:43:00.000+08:00

Some indie lovin' today. This songcomforts me, somehow. I'll upload it once Radio.Blog.Club's working again. Highlights include the way the piano gingerly steps down a scale starting from 4.50. Makes you think that life isn't that bad after all.

Actually yeah, life isn't that bad after all.

Wake Up - The Arcade Fire

Somethin' filled up my heart with nothin',
Someone told me not to cry.
But now that I'm older,
My heart's colder,
And I can see that it's a lie.

Children wake up, hold your mistake up,
Before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don't grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.

We're just a million little god's causin rain storms
Turnin' every good thing to rust.
I guess we'll just have to adjust.

With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin' to be
When the reaper he reaches
And touches my hand.

With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am go-goin’

You'd better look out below

institution

2007-03-13T18:48:00.000+08:00

Life would be a painless process if we could develop amnesia and forget something at its passing. That way, life would not need to be an experience, as the term connotes nostalgia, reminiscence and learning. Without the need to hearken to the past we as people could just walk along by looking foward and not having our heartstrings pulled back by an imaginary force like a brutal master reining in his errant steed.

In this void we would be without such lofty ideals such as loyalty or love, and there would not be a need for something as useless as relationships which bind rather than free, stirring up restlessness rather than providing comfort. If each person, object, institution or idea we come across and interact with was just a part of the above process called living, not influencing our thoughts, beliefs or feelings(no point for these too) and dissipating into nothingess upon contact, the world would be clean, a blinding white state of existence which would not be marred by hot crimson feeling and wants.

The world will not be happy. The World will not be sad. An unfeeling world is an efficient one, with everyone guided by pragmatism and the loud trumpets of money and other tangible bullshit. Ah, one laments, if only we could detach ourselves from such time wasting notions like loyalty, character and spirit, then we can speed up this throughtrain and reach utopia faster, heck maybe by even Term 2 week 1, ehh?

Institutions crumble to dust. Honour and Pride ebb in the dwindling fire. There is no place for sandcastles in the sky. We are A Crushed Spirit. We have been tricked, thrust into a masquerade for 12 long years. Screw the red tape and veiled darts. This is what we are, and what we possses. A Crushed Spirit Inside. I am disillusioned and I know no longer where home is, in this age where loyalty, a sense of ownership and belonging and everything that was dear to our hearts count for as much as a blood caked spear and shield against loaded barrells in open terrain.

If only we could forget the past. That way, 12 years under the same banner counts for nothing, 6 as a member of the only institution worthy of the title Band of Brothers (holy shit he's actually emotionally attached to one CCA?! More CCA better! More CAS hours!) counts for nothing, and 18 years as an individual who still in his heart wishes to change the world..counts for nought.

I bang my fist on the table and lament why why why why can't I be like other people, foccused on task at hand and whose existence revolves around 45? Why can't I convince myself that the old Institution has shattered and dissolved. That a place of navy blue ties, assemblies outside sunlight classrooms, parades in an asphalt parade square without obtrusive monuments, "we the citizens of Oh Shit", student activity centres with warm lights, chairs of orange and blue, pizza at $1.20, bermudas, changing in the classroom, sweaty backs and soccer filled days, dismissals at 2.40, teachers who knew and understood, all boys, juniors who respected those in long pants, creaking lockers, a turfless astroturf ('hockey pitch'), interclass soccer, philemon, ephraim, habakkuk, enoch, blue, red, yellow green, Boot Polish, Godspell, SYF 2003/2005, dates that don't make sense to anyone else, friends, comrades, brothers, true blue ACSians ETC ETC ETC ETC ETC ETC ETC

does not exist, no more.

We grow up, we move on, we lead different lives. I'm just truly afraid that what I will be remembering will not be what I want or should be remembering. Aiyah, to cut a long story short, everyone should develop amnesia. Let's all go change the world.

2007-03-11T17:28:00.000+08:00

What have we become?

2007-03-11T12:03:00.000+08:00

My salad days,

When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,

To say as I said then!

violence

2007-03-05T21:40:00.000+08:00

What's the most common chord used in Christian music today?

Gsus.

I really should make better use of my free time.

Anyway over this couple of days I have been rather intrigued by the concept of violence in films, or more specifically whether creative license and the pursuit of underlying themes justify copious amounts of blood and gore in the cinema where three films have caught my imagination - Letters from Iwo Jima, which I saw, Saw, which I have not seen, and 300, which I intend to see.

Now the grenade scene in the first movie, with terrified Japanese soldiers pulling the safeties of their nades, tipping them over their helmets and exploding in a cloud of "wan sui", blood and entrails is easily for me the most poignant moment of the film. Granted, every war film needs at least a fair amount of violence,be it for realism or to get the adrenalin rush pumping, but this was different because the wounds were well, self inflicted. All for Hirohito eh? And "See you at Yasukuni" is the quote of the movie hands down.

Speaking of self inflicted wounds, I haven't seen Saw, and I don't intend to, but yet I'm weirdly fascinated by the whole "how much blood would you shed to stay alive" quandry that forces the audience to mull upon so that they forget that the entire movie, no the entire trilogy is just one extended torture sequence of increasing morbidity and of course amount of blood and guts. It's as if the traps themselves don't cause that much pain and mortal anguish as having to decide to hurt yourself so that you would live. It's as if the horror is doubled when there's no one to apportion blame upon. I see the intellectual premise (if any) of the franchise to be that man will want to stay alive regardless of the pain that he has to undergo. And I think the nausea and fainting reported during test screenings in the UK were probably due to the audience not being able to pull themselves away from the victims' shoes, and being forced to internalize the dilemma that he/she faced. Saw is truly a classic out of the frying pan and into the fire experience, well except this time it's the slightly more grisly 'hand in acid or ribcage torn apart' kinda experience. Eek.

And yesh, 300. M 18 due to violent battle sequences. I don't really trust ratings anyhow though, for how can a board of film censors decide what you can or can not stomach? Ah well. I certainly don't expect 300 to be some fluffy movie where spartan kids with killer abs frolick in the sunset
waiting for the dinner bell to ring. The entire film may just be an extended battle sequence for all I know, but hey, with a theme and concept like this, who's complaining. Just look at this:

http://www.apple.com/trailers/wb/300/trailer2/large.html

I haven't truly enjoyed a film since the Lord of the Rings, where traces of its battle scenes and dialogue can be found in this movie. Hmm, maybe somehow I'm indebted to believe that the human spirit will triumph, odds are meant to be overturned, and we're all gonna be fine and dandy in this desolation called IB. And yeah, I have to admit that although the 300 did perish eventually (how could they not?), they sure as hell took down loads of Persians with them.

Madness? This is IB. And we're in for one wild night.

rah.

apple

2007-03-04T17:15:00.000+08:00

The Apple Song, as quoted in Embracing Defeat- Japan in the Wake of World War Two by John W. Dower

Red apple on my lips,
silently watching the blue sky.
The apple doesn't say a thing,
but the apple's feeling is clear.

Shall we sing the apple song?

If two people sing, it's merry.
If everyone sings, it's more and more delightful.
Let's pass on the apple's feeling -
Apple's lovable, lovable's the apple.

2007-02-25T00:00:00.000+08:00

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now

Entertain us

nirvana

2007-02-24T23:53:00.001+08:00

And I forget, just why I taste.

Oh yeah I guess it makes me smile.

I found it hard, it was hard to find...

Oh well,

whatever,

never mind.

when

2007-02-13T22:42:00.000+08:00

When this is all over, when everything has faded away, when every tear has been wiped off your cheek and when beads of sweat no longer drip from your brow, I'll take your hand, and together we'll walk into the marvellous light. I'll walk with you through the misty pine, scooping up earth while smelling a fresh breeze tinged with lavender and we'll walk slowly to avoid the rustling of leaves beneath our bare feet. When this has ended, after the rain has fallen to wash away the years we shall step into the glowing puddles and let the water cascade slowly around the ankles, cooling our scorched soles as rays of light pour down upon us. When all this is over, we will laugh. A hearty, thunderous laugh, set to pass down its echos into the valleys and the hills, the mountainous regions covered with tufts of sweet grass, a laughter rolling with the wind, mixing and interacting till it becomes one. When all this is over, there will be no gray, there will be no furrows upon thy brow and all will come together in perfect, resplendent liberty and our hearts will leap with joy, relief and tender tiredness, a tiredness that evokes wizened smiles from wizened faces. Something evil has passed. We remember it not but as we lay upon the lush meadows and gaze into the deep red of the setting sun we know that we have passed it by, some day, some way, or another.

hey

2007-02-13T21:04:00.000+08:00

I've never really cared about academic awards and scholarly merit, for the last time I got an award, besides the one or two Eagles prizes was the Top 10 in PSLE prize in primary school. But today, when I learnt that hey I'm not topping History no more, and I ain't getting no prize on Founder's Day, it well, sucked.

I just might have stepped into the light, in IB and if I gain nothing else besides an increased dependence on caffiene, at least I've developed a desire for coherence, organization and evidence in the way I think, write and speak, no thanks to the destroyer of weak arguments himself, Mr Alvin Tan and his teaching has translated into personally satisfying results for History and I hope, for TOK as well. But ahhhh, the crux of the matter is that topping History, apart from it being my first area of my educational process that I'm actually proud of, actually meant to me, that heyy maybe I have a wee bit of substance to match... ah knn. What's the point.

Damn hollow victory you know. All because my midyears sucked. Argh thought I could have a cert, an invite to the overpriced reception with the minimal food for my parents to relive the halcyon days of Top in Mother Tounge in primary three and Second in Class in Primary Four. But no.. Haha.

And I shall stop before this degenerates into shit about life's cruel ironies. and bittersweet moments. Happy early valentine's day, by the way.

Yeah, the two of you at the back..

rose

2007-02-10T23:09:00.000+08:00

O rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

2007-02-02T16:59:00.000+08:00

Finally Fixed, a bar of metal hangs on the hinges of my door high above. High for my reach, but not unreachable. Order is restored.

cup

2007-01-28T20:52:00.000+08:00

There was a time, when people said that Singapore won't make it, but we did. There was a time, when trouble seemed to much for us to take, but we did, just by beating Malaysia.

And that is why to me patriotism is spherical, and belongs not in the heart but in the legs. At the National Stadium last night, Majullah Singapura was an apt battle cry that once stripped of all its political trimmings stirred in me a mixture of pride, passion and loyalty to something that I wouldn't feel the same about on other occasions. Really, if souless Singapore needs something to restore, no to create a National Spirit, it's football and sport.

It was a heady and intoxicating experience. Every time a Singaporean player got the ball, every crunching tackle, every through pass,every foul that a Malaysian commited the heat behind the collar and in the cheeks was heightened, more so than any National Day parade, rally, four million smile campaign has ever done for me. I can unabashedly say yes, I am proud to be Singaporean, or in the words of that primary one chinese textbook : wo shi xin jia po gong ming, wo ai xin jia po. It's as if the gripes with Singaporean society dissipate with every punt of the ball. As effective as propoganda itself.

I ask myself then, am I really proud of my country, or am I just happy that the group of footballers that the place of my birth has associated me with just did a one-upper over another team? I don't know how loyalty and patriotism can be measured, but I sure know that when I was up in the grandstand together with 55 000 comrades in red, screaming myself hoarse, joining in the Kallang roar, feeling an immense sense of pride when Mhd Ridhuan was substituted and came to our side of the stadium to applaud us fans en route to the dressing room and belting out the National Anthem at a decibel level far higher than that during morning assembly since time millenia that that was the closest I have come, to being proud of my nation, regardless of the actual result. My heart swelled. Is that enough to be considered patriotic?

The sense of unadulterated euphoria in that split second that saw the Malaysian net bulge as Ridhuan equalized was uncomprehensible and if channelled properly could light up the city for a year. I don't even remember the details of how the goal was actually scored, but when I turned and looked at Liz next to me, and Ethan and Seow on the other side, together with the rest of the stadium going ballistic, I knew it was something special.Is it possible to feel the same way about Singapore in any other setting? I honestly cannot answer. But to be there, to be there for your country, to read in the newspapers this morning how grateful the coach and players were that the fans went down, that we were their 12th man stirs up a sense of pride that cannot be replicated elsewhere. You thought that your support for your nation could make the difference. You were willing to be there, on the frontlines for your country. National Service anyone?

I realize, that something has been laid to rest. Grievance at how ungracious our society is, unhappiness at the lack of political freedom here, disgust at the xenophilia of our countrymen etc etc all took a back seat as I can after those three hours at the National Stadium say that I was proud to be Singaporean, and just like Winston Smith did in the Chestnut Tree Cafe say that I truly loved Singapore.

Boleh.

song

2007-01-23T00:06:00.000+08:00

A song that I just learnt (thanks van) in between contemplating of a move to wordpress because form tells me substance wll follow..

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that Id like to do
Is to save every day
Till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
Id save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
Ive looked around enough to know
That youre the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
Ive looked around enough to know
That youre the one I want to go
Through time with

print

2007-01-14T21:37:00.000+08:00

Siddharta left it all and frankly, I'm tired. I might just up and move away.

itunes

2007-01-11T21:33:00.000+08:00

Hark! A quiz!

The iTunes Crystal Ball - Turn on shuffle and answer these questions:

1. What do you think of me, iTunes?

Yellow - Coldplay.

Racist Americans. Hmph

2. Will I have a happy life?

Yesterday Once More - The Carpenters

Very profound, this memory-fueled path and frankly it makes me question whether it's worth to hold on to what I do.

3. What do my friends really think of me?

Miss You In a Heartbeat - Def Leppard

I think it's the other way around, rather. No man is an island, Donne said.

4. Do people secretly lust after me?

Every Breath You Take - The Police

I'll never look at this song the same way again. Eek.

5. How can I make myself happy?

Same Ol' Situation - Motley Crue

Why rock the boat eh? Very Singaporean indeed.

6. What should I do with my life?

Into the West - Annie Lennox

How far West? I'm going West everyday but I don't feel like I'm doing much with my life. America beckons.

7. Why must life be so full of pain?

Lightning Crashes - Live

Because without pain there is no life, as any mother will tell you. Om.

8. Will I ever have children?

Another Day - Dream Theater

Priorites eh.

9. Will I die happy?

Already Gone - The Eagles

Yep, you're right, it doesn't matter since I'm dead already.

10. Can you give me some advice?

Cigarettes and Alcohol - Oasis

"You could wait for a lifetime
To spend your days in the sunshine
You might as well do the white line
Cos when it comes on top . . .

You gotta make it happen!

Is it worth the aggravation
To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?
It's a crazy situation
But all I need are cigarettes and alcohol"

Momma said you were a bad influence. (:

ib

2007-01-11T21:05:00.000+08:00

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountain should crumble
To the sea

I wont cry, I wont cry
No I wont shed a tear
Just as long,
As I can, can IB

french

2007-01-09T22:03:00.000+08:00

"Oooh la la! Il est encore en vie!"

He's still alive. Yes.

When you haven't spoken French for about two months and when your French teacher has just been switched to a tall, lithe, 27 year old French native speaker from Belgium with an icy stare and a particular distaste for raging boy hormones,

It's nice to be alive.

Bonne chance. :(

red

2007-01-07T21:09:00.000+08:00

Music hits me like a bolt from the bluest part of blue. Deep shades mixed with pale, swirling around each other and mixing till there is no distinction between light and dark, and all that remains is this vast sea of blue, calm and yet in the next second splashing all over me like a crazed man armed with a bucket of paint.

I was eating dinner, then a voice in my head, well just broke the analogue and said some indecipherable lyric about falling into stars and arms and the ilk. So I rushed home and tried to find that song, which I guess I must have heard on the radio, seeing that firstly I didn't have it, and secondly well it was on the radio so I doubt I have it. It was Simply Red, and well, Stars. Hmmm kenneth's listening to Simply Red? *checks temperature". But the song's great, and it's one of those songs that stick at the back of your head and pops out in sporadic intervals making you wanna listen to it again.

When I wake up in the morning everyday, there will be a song stuck in my head. It's very weird, like a hidden record somewhere in my hypothalamus continually repeating itself till I'm fully awake. I think I like the subconscious. Needa check with Kant on that though.

Yesterday when I was in school one of the custodians came up to talk. I'm not sure what was her name, but I see her all the time. Probably the most hardworking one at that. She asked me what I was doing in school at such an ungodly hour, and well the conversation sorta led, in halting chinese (me halting more) to her giving me advice on life. She told me to study hard so I can get out of Singapore and find a good job so I don't have to be a custodian like her. Being politically correct in these situations is an art form. All I could manage was a 'aiyah don't say like that' kinda response..Feeble, but necessary perhaps? She then said, no, really you guys have to get the good jobs. It's maddeningly competitive out there. And the government doesn't care. At least Lee Kuan Yew cared about us. Now that it's his son and who knows who you kids are gonna suffer because the PAP doesn't care anymore. So work hard and find a good job, ah boy.

Ah, boy. sounds like a double dose of negativity.

hegel

2007-01-06T11:37:00.000+08:00

"The delight from the dialectic generated from the question outweighs the illusion of certainty that may be gained from answering it."

emosick

2007-01-04T22:17:00.000+08:00

Emotion Sickness, haha how apt. Two nouns packed together and what, increase the intensity of both, swirling about till we get a huge dose of Emosick? Or Emo-ness. AH that makes much more sense.

I was struck by a big wave of Emotion Sickness today. Something like being sea sick, just that your emotions are just as tumultuous are the waves, to randomly scour about for weak metaphors.

Anyway,I shall first though, and for the first time: recount what i did today!

Actually let's start from last night. After Jan 1's drunken resolutions, I thought hey why not lets give this whole 'studying' thing a try. So I took out my Math textbook, and read for two hours the chapter on limits and the introduction to differentiation. It was enriching, mind boggling, and evoking almost the same feeling as having completed an Iron Man, bloody, tired, bloody tired, but satisfied nonetheless.

Thursday, today. Had Biology and Math in close proximity of each other, so I tried for the first time too, paying attention to both, taking down notes profusely and schitz. Tok was a respite though, as the class was reduced to mainly just Jwong, Justin, a few sporadic voices and I talking. What's New. We did genetics in biology, Michelle's a 23XXX, super female. And I just just came home today and went through what we did. Someone should buy 4D. Math was mental acrobatics as well, calculus. But ah well, my reading last night remotely helped.

Oh Priya's not teaching us french anymore. Pourquoi Madam, Pourqoui? but we're replaced by this 25 year old-esque Belge native speaker of French called Laurence von something. Je regrette, I'll find out more soon.

Then the nice talk, by chock. Mmmmzhi mmmzhi.

The talk was perversely beautiful. There was a tangible smell of fear and trepidation in the air. Beautiful though, because Chock ended with a prayer. Small, and well repeated gesture with very little variants apart from "In Jesus name we pray, the Best is Yet To Be", but still appreciated. Just made me realize that I mean no matter how much crud was presented to us, deadlines and whatnot, at least we submitted it to God, as a level. Makes me appreciate the Christian culture in AC. In other secular institutions it'd be nothing more than a good luck have fun, and thanks for all the fish kinda thing.

I recount these, for the simple purpose of reiterating that I'm ready for IB Year Goddamn 2. I'm ready to work till I bleed for my 40 points. I'm ready to wean myself off all my vices so I can get into a good uni, get a good job, and be able to provide for my parents and my future family. I'm ready to do what it takes, and the last thing I need is for the carpet to be pulled under from my feet that has just started to move.

I needa see Dr.Ong tommorow morning coz i messed up my maths. Simple as that. Emotion Sickness. I was preparing to do my best to improve, and this just reminds me that I'm terrible at math. 4 people will be retained tommorow. I don't believe it'd be me, and people told me "you siao ah, you top history how to retain". That makes it all the more pathethic. Why can't I do well in math? Last year was crap(oh hey so was last last, last last last, last last last last..ooh patternz) and I always resolve to do better the next time around. And now, whoopdedoo, I need to see Dr "Wahhh so smart ahhh Kenneth, I need to give you a dean's list for saxophone too ahhh" Ong. Now I'm gonna be the fool that lives in extremes. I mean of course I care about how I look in front of my principal, but that's not the point. I'm just fatigued by the fact that I have to go face my demon again, and be reminded of my aptitude, or therelack of, at Mathematics. I wanna move on dammit.

Actually the talk with Dr. Ong is needed, I admit, the last push, the catalyst to stop the freefall. Maybe all my New Year's resolutions aren't good enough.

This is such a sorry situation that it's not even funny. You think I enjoy running off from Dean's list to go for Math Con Camp? I joke about it so that by being funny, it'd mask the incredulity of the entire fiasco.

I'm not gonna make empty promises now. I screwed up. I wanna fix it. Emosick.

That's that. Que Sera Sera.

club

2007-01-01T18:05:00.000+08:00

Radio Blog Club is awesome, now I can share my favourite songs that no one else knows about with the rest of the world! Chekkit Out!

furl

2007-01-01T15:09:00.000+08:00

I was greeted in the mail today, by a copy of the Furl track "You'll Never Know" sent by brother black himself. I think it's awesome and magical how a song comes to fruition, where the message, the words, the lyrics, the music all come together in perfect harmony. Congrats mates!
And Music is the best, I say naively and unequivocally. No contest.

It's 2007 now. There's a pervading sense of disquiet around me, a yellowish purple aura that smells like a mixture of scent and salt, like perfume being sprayed into the breeze at sea, overwhelming, contradicting and beautifully unsettling. Ever had a short stray hand of hair embedd itself in the tip of your thumb before?Makes me wonder how something so tiny and worthless can cause so much distress. It pricks you as you rub your thumb and forefinger together, and you can hardly tell it's there. Awesome.

Something tells me that this world is fading, a slow grey ebb towards nothingness. It's crumbling, as we already know when we open the newspapers each morning to the smell of freshly burnt coffee. I don't think we're spinning out of control because there's more evil than good in this world, to quote a random nihilist, that the presence of terrorism, natural disasters, dictatorships, single party states, countries whose Prime Minister's surname has not changed since 1965, the internet, hollywood, IB is what constitutes for the globe acting like a cue ball with too much top spin, freefalling into a foul.

I think it's a lack of something, rather. Something has been lost in recent history, in the development of society, that has seen us lose the rustic, honest and benign nature of our lives. I'm living in the past I know, a pimordial being that will hui bei she hui tao tai (the only chinese phrase I remember now). Oh well, who said that the world's forgiving?

The disquiet's lifting somewhat. I am excited for school next year, I mean the day after tommorow because I wanna see whether all the drunk resolutions I make will see realization. I want this year to be, more than anything else, fufilled. Still, it's another tequila sunrise. This old world still looks the same, another frame..

Happy New Year everyone.

reflections

2006-12-30T18:59:00.000+08:00

I was looking at the first page of this blog and I found it disheartingly elusive and somewhat superficial. 3 youtube links that okay, made me happy, a couple of souffle-esque posts (all form and no substance), a de-punctuated rant and a quote from the Straits Times regarding the conflict in rural india, where the punishment issued was yep, a confisication of the family buffalo.

And in the spirit of reflection and looking back upon, I realize that my recent writing doesn' t tell anything about me. It's all good fun, but nothing really fills you up. And as I grow older I guess I am looking for more long lasting things, for more permanent fixtures in my life. And just a thought: Fireworks give me bittersweet feelings because they take ages to get ready, they get the thronging crowds all brimming with excitement, and after exploding in the night sky with 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' and 'oi don't block lahh' they just fade away into the nothingness once more.

Of course they're beautiful and romantic. They have to be. Or else they can't capture our imagination for so short a time. What else do they have to offer besides these moments of brillance?

I like moments though. Maybe its a youth thing. My therapist calls it the pursuit of instant gratification. Whatever the term, I think that my life thus far has not been one long sentence, although sometimes it feels like one. Rather it's moments after moments that have been strung together, words that mean something as much by themselves as collectively. It's funny though, that I always dream big, I always idealize my dream uni, my dream job, my dream wife, my dream spot at Mt Vernon, stuff like that. But sadly enough I realize I live my life short term. It's the moments that I live for, rather than the long run. Bah. Humbug.

I think I learnt how to feel this year. To feel love, to feel infatuation, to feel the difference. To feel music, to feel mere notes,to feel philosophical, to feel about my way in the darkness of academia. Stuff like that. Yep, could be the alternative lyrics to the Robbie Williams song. Anyway-

Alright, enough. Enough now.

buff

2006-12-30T01:46:00.000+08:00

Fine. Go Ahead.

Confisicate the Family Buffalo.

I dare you.

2006-12-25T01:12:00.000+08:00

Love Actually

Sigh, I really really couldn't resist putting this up.

Merry Christmas everyone.

2006-12-24T00:38:00.000+08:00

Dave Matthews Band - #41

And what sort of man goes by
I will bring water
Why won't you ever be glad
It melts into wonder

I came in praying for you, and

Why won't you run
Into the rain and play and
Let it splash all over you..

hand

2006-12-22T22:16:00.000+08:00

i am a busy person no not just a busy person but an aimless busy person not knowing what he is busy for or what he is busying himself about except for the fact that if he does not busy himself with these things he will be aimless free and headed to the deep end of the sea with a boulder tied to his leg and he is for the first time truly afraid and worried about his future next year will be a flash next year will be over as soon as it started and he is afraid he will mess up the future that depends on next year and he is afraid for the first time ever that he cannot do enough pull ups (because he is not strong enough and he admits it) to ensure that he does not have to go in two months early and miss prom miss friends miss family miss people miss life and he is also afraid that he is not hardworking enough not smart enough not organized enough to complete ib no wait not just complete ib but to excel ib to get 42 points and he recalls how he managed to scrape through p6 and do well in psle 262 much higher than he expected but he does not know if he can repeat the same feat because this is ib and he is also afraid that he will not be able to juggle band and ib and band takes alot from a person but gives back alot but what it does not give back is time and to conclude all in all he is worried that next year will just be a huge **** up and he will be regretting what he did and what he did not and it gnaws at his insides and he does not want to be stumbling dirty drunk and aimless down a dark grey street regretting and yes the only thing now that he can do is to write on this blank slate all his worries and it is therapeutic in a way because he is displaying all his fears to the world and without punctuation in the hope that these fears will dissipate as he expresses them bit by bit and his heart is heavy because he does not know if he is ready the rest of the school and the rest of the world may be ready but he does not think he is and he is suddenly reminded of a song an old song one from his youth that may help him overcome this and may help him move on it is a hymn an old hymn but the words of the hymn seem so reassuring that it is too good to be true and well yeah this is what he is bothered by three days before christmas and he thanks you for reading through this punctuation void hell and below is this hymn that might just help him survive not the whole hymn actually just bits but its enough and he hopes it will encourage you and hopes for himself to not be dragged down by the immense boulder or ib that is tied to his leg anymore

I don't know about tomorrow,
I just live from day to day.
I don't borrow from it's sunshine,
For it's skies may turn to gray.
I don't worry o'er the future,
For I know what Jesus said,
And today I'll walk beside Him,
For He knows what is ahead.

Many things about tomorrow,
I don't seem to understand;
But I know Who holds tomorrow,
But I know Who holds my hand.

I don't know about tomorrow,
It may bring me poverty;
But the One Who feeds the sparrow,
Is the One Who stands by me.
And the path that be my portion,
May be through the flame or flood,
But His presence goes before me,
And I'm covered with His blood.

Many things about tomorrow,
I don't seem to understand;
But I know Who holds tomorrow,
And I know Who holds my hand.

turn

2006-12-17T00:02:00.000+08:00

I have realized that the world spins forward. Not round and round on its axis, that's just a lie. The reality is that the world, on no axis at all spins forward, at such great a speed that we do not notice we're moving forward, until someone shouts "Halt!" the world's spinning forward and I need to do something with my life!"

Well, halt! I need to do something with my life!

Three things have made me come into this realization though, and lists are always good. so...

1.

I, have been for the first time defeated by meritocracy. I always knew, in a Singapore dystopia that I'd be beaten by the A plus and A star people in job opportunities and whatnot, but sigh this is too soon. Because limpeh never stardy mecks, lim peh had to go maths re exam (like those computer upgrading night courses) and thus lim peh cannot become OGL because no point. Or rather not enough point. So much for peer appraisal rankings. Ah well, beggars and blue collar workers can't be choosers, and I heard the council (opposition) fought hard for our rights..so.....don't comprain lor! Just hope your lift got upgrading next time.

Come to think of it is this even meritocracy? hahaha

2.

www.ns.sg is the shortest url I have ever seen. But therein contains the longest two years of my life. I signed up for deferment today (sounds so cool eh) from national service, following the steps laid out in that bright orange letter from Mindef, the Ah peks and twenty something yuppies sitting around the library where I was looking at me figure my way around with much amusement and "ah he kena liao" eyes. Reservist tinted eyes, I must add. The world spins forward.

Left, right, Left, right, Left-

I don't like letters from Mindef very much.

3( in relation to 2).

It looked like any other ordinary surprise birthday dinner at fish and co for a bro (happy seventeenth marcus low). But the conversation at our table, for the majority of the night centered around our duty to our beloved country and the ills, thrills and spills attached! How can one!Whatever happened to boy talk? :(

I swear at this rate I'll eventually start talking to my rifle and make crude jokes about how the other shoots blanks.

The end.

Oh on another note, we should have saw it coming. It was there on BBC radio, it was there in print, it was there on our theater screens for goodness sake. Douglas Adams is a genius. He did have it figured out. Either that or he's psychic. Or he works at IBO.

I mean, how can you not be the above....

if you realize, comprehend and declare ....

that the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything is goddamn 42!!
(45 if you're nervous/Singaporean)

Mr Fox

2006-12-12T14:01:00.000+08:00

Lady Mary was young, and Lady Mary was fair. She had two brothers, and more lovers than she could count. But of them all, the bravest and most gallant, was a Mr. Fox, whom she met when she was down at a country-house. No one knew who Mr. Fox was; but he was certainly brave, and surely rich, and of all her lovers, Lady Mary cared for him alone. At last it was agreed upon between them that they should be married. Lady Mary asked Mr. Fox where they should live, and he described to her his castle, and where it was; but, strange to say, did not ask her, or her brothers to come and see it.

So one day, near the wedding-day, when her brothers were out, and Mr. Fox was away for a day or two on business, as he said, Lady Mary set out for the castle. And after many searchings, she came at last to it, and a fine strong house it was, with high walls and a deep moat. And when she came up to the gateway she saw written on it:

Be Bold, Be Bold.

But as the gate was open, she went through it, and found no one there. So she went up to the doorway, and over it she found written:

Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold.

Still she went on, till she came into the hall, and went up the broad stairs till she came to a door in the gallery, over which was written:

Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold, Lest That Your Heart Blood Should Run Cold.

But Lady Mary was a brave one, she was, and she opened the door, and what do you think she saw? Why, bodies and skeletons of beautiful young ladies all stained with blood. So Lady Mary thought it was high time to get out of that horrid place, and she closed the door, went through the gallery, and was just going down the stairs, and out of the hall, when who should she see through the window, but Mr. Fox dragging a beautiful young lady along from the gateway to the door. Lady Mary rushed downstairs, and hid herself behind a cask, just in time, as Mr. Fox came in with the poor young lady who seemed to have fainted. Just as he got near Lady Mary, Mr. Fox saw a diamond ring glittering on the finger of the young lady he was dragging, and he tried to pull it off. But it was tightly fixed, and would not come off, so Mr. Fox cursed and swore, and drew his sword, raised it, and brought it down upon the hand of the poor lady. The sword cut off the hand, which jumped up into the air, and fell of all places in the world into the lap of Lady Mary. Mr. Fox looked about a bit, but did not think of looking behind the cask, so at last he went on dragging the young lady up the stairs into the Bloody Chamber.

As soon as she heard him pass through the gallery, Lady Mary crept out of the door, down through the gateway, and ran home as fast as she could.

Now it happened that the very next day the marriage contract of Lady Mary and Mr. Fox was to be signed, and there was a splendid breakfast before that. And when Mr. Fox was seated at table opposite Lady Mary, he looked at her.

How pale you are this morning, my dear.

Yes, said she,

I had a bad rest last night. I had horrible dreams.

Dreams go by contraries, said Mr. Fox;

but tell us your dream, and your sweet voice will make the time pass till the happy hour comes.

I dreamed, said Lady Mary,

that I went yestermorn to your castle, and I found it in the woods, with high walls, and a deep moat, and over the gateway was written:

Be Bold, Be Bold.

But it is not so, nor it was not so, said Mr. Fox.

And when I came to the doorway over it was written:

Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold.

It is not so, nor it was not so, said Mr. Fox.

And then I went upstairs, and came to a gallery, at the end of which was a door, on which was written:

Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold, Lest That Your Heart Blood Should Run Cold.

It is not so, nor it was not so, said Mr. Fox.

And then I opened the door, and the room was filled with bodies and skeletons of poor dead women, all stained with their blood.

It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so, said Mr. Fox.

I then dreamed that I rushed down the gallery, and just as I was going down the stairs, I saw you, Mr. Fox, coming up to the hall door, dragging after you a poor young lady, rich and beautiful.

It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so, said Mr. Fox.

I rushed downstairs, just in time to hide myself behind a cask, when you, Mr. Fox, came in dragging the young lady by the arm. And, as you passed me, Mr. Fox, I thought I saw you try and get off her diamond ring, and when you could not, Mr. Fox, it seemed to me in my dream, that you out with your sword and hacked off the poor hand to get the ring.

It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so, said Mr. Fox, and was going to say something else as he rose from his seat, when Lady Mary cried out:

But it is so, and it was so. Here is hand and ring I have to show, and she pulled out the hand of the lady from her dress, and pointed it straight at Mr. Fox.

At once her brothers and her friends drew their swords and cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces.

2006-12-09T23:56:00.000+08:00

Oasis - Stop Crying Your Heart Out

Ah those were the times... (:

child

2006-12-08T13:11:00.000+08:00

I was slowly passing an orphan's home one day

And stopped there for a moment just to watch the children play

Alone a boy was standing and when I asked him why

He turned with eyes that could not see and he began to cry

I'm nobody's child,
I'm nobody's child
I'm like a flower just growing wild
No mommy's kisses and no daddy's smile
Nobody wants me
I'm nobody's child

People come for children and take them for their own
But they all seem to pass me by and I am left alone
I know they'd like to take me but when they see I'm blind
They always take some other child and I am left behind

No mother's arms to hold me or soothe me when I cry
Sometimes it gets so lonely here I wish that I could die
I'd walk the streets of heaven where all the blind can see
And just like all the other kids there'd be a home for me

I just can't seem to figure out
Why the folks all pass me by
Cause I know that it's true that God takes little blind children

With Him in the sky

And they tell me that I'm oh so pretty
And they seem to like my big curls of gold
But then they take some other little child
And I'm left here all alone

I'm nobody's child,
I'm nobody's child
I'm like a flower just growing wild
No mommy's kisses and no daddy's smile
Nobody wants me
I'm nobody's child

quandry

2006-12-07T12:56:00.000+08:00

Hurrah, the previous post was the 200th on this site. Time flies when you're having fun, no?

Anyway, I've come across a quandry. And before you read on, I am in perfect knowledge of, and have fully considered the fact that this entry is the archetype of one that when I am old, rocking in my rocking chair, will consider fondly with a wry smile and a chortle for added effect, wondering why it deserved thought and questioning its merit as a quandry. Even now it may seem immaterial to readers, but please, bear with me and if you have to laugh and snigger, do it quietly.

Knowing how you will remember yourself in the past in the future is quite a fancy thing actually. And my dilemma thus, its subject matter regarding the only thing that someone seventeen years young will probably only think about - love, or therelackof.

My heart tells me that I am wizened, and lovewise (that's damn 1984), and have seen alot, which in reality cannot be further from the truth. Anyhow, my quandry is whether close friends can be lovers in essence. Now wait, before you put on your thinking caps and raise your chins shouting rah! let me elaborate. With regards to relationships, I've never believed in cutting to the chase, or the base, or whatever we say nowsadays in drunken stupors. Basically if you wanna go out with a girl at least get to know her well, no? Which is where the dilemma starts, well unless you get to know her with the intention of going out with her, then the door's that way doctor love.

I mean you get to know this girl, you see hey we have lots in common, you see hey she trusts me with a lot of things, you see hey she tells me stuff and understands me as well, you see hey we enjoy each other's company loads, you see hey she knows I can take care of her.
Then you want to get attached so that you can enjoy her company, take care of her, listen to her problems and let her trust you with a lot of things.

ehhhh?!

yep. That's my quandry. Does this mean that the only way you can get attached is if you have that very intention from the beginning? Friends can't become lovers? And now we ask what's the difference anyway and how do we tell if it is so.....

argh..

I hope I figure this out so I can eventually laugh at myself recalling how I was trying to figure this out.

200

2006-12-04T22:01:00.000+08:00

Lay down, your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling.
You have come to journey end.
Sleep now, and dream of the ones who came before.
They are calling, from across the distant shore.

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see.
All of your fears will pass away.
Safe in my arms, you are only sleeping.

What can you see, on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises.
The ships have come, to carry you home.

And all will turn, to silver glass.
A light on the water.
All souls pass.

Hope fades,
Into the world of night.
Through shadows falling,
Out of memory and time.

Don not say,
We have come now to the end.
White shores are calling.
You and I will meet again.
And you will be here in my arms,
Just sleeping.

What can you see ,on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea, a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,to carry you home.

And all will turn, to silver glass.
A light on the water.
Grey ships pass
Into the West.

stardust

2006-12-03T00:33:00.000+08:00

Je voudrais! Maintenant!

milts

2006-12-02T11:51:00.000+08:00

I've known a man for thirteen going on fourteen years now. And as much as I desire not for this to appear as a eulogy or something akin to it I am wont to recite, no to renew the times spent with this paragon of virtue/emo.

We went to the same kindergarten, a quaint institution next to a church down the road to Serangoon Gardens. Trinity Methodist Church Kindergarten, I believe. From a young age, we shared common interests and we would have endless fun role-playing the characters from the golden era of child programming - Transformers and (GO! GO!) Power Rangers. And from that age where memory is blurred, there was a promotional event organized by a local bookstore where you'd send a set of names in and they'd write a story for you with the names as protagonists. The two of us always got the evil dinosaurs that walked around scaring the rest of humanity. Always.

I saw less of him as we entered paradise/ACS (J). The confusion and tumult of entering a school so big, and gasp without having your meals provided for in small cups drew us apart. Well the fact that we were in different classes too didn't make things better. The first three years of primary school yield no solid recollections or poignant events that require much reminiscence or commentary. But he and I were classmates soon enough in primary four, and the rest of the innocent, trapped in a bubble of protection and ignorance like primary school existence, culminating in 6.10 - the three digits that symbolize loyalty, manhood, and the right to rule the universe.

Things upped and went. Things fell apart. But it was no coincidence I feel, that 35/40 of us made it into ACS(I) and proceeded to claim it as our own. The man and I were seperated in secondary one, and well haven't been in the same class since. But the embers never fully dimmed as this NPCC reject by his own admission left the police and joined the Symphonic Band in 2003. Although he was a year too late than the rest of us, his trumpeting skillz saw him make good and we both were part of the executive commitee of 2005 that brought back the award for top band in Singapore. But that's immaterial. Awards mean nought if you don't gain em with a smile.

We joined ACJC concert band in Nov 2005. And we grew closer as brothers because brothers see beneath the cold, aloof exterior and brothers are able to see what really gnaws and leaps within. We helped each other out, in the understatement of the century.

People change. Girls come. People change. But he has always got my back. He's seen me at my lowest and I've seen him at his emo-est. Through all the problems, heartaches and whatnot he has been there for me.

And all I can say now, bro is that I'm here for ya too. Always have, and always will be.

Get well soon Milton.

morning

2006-11-30T10:01:00.000+08:00

I have a cup of water residing on a table in the living room as I type these words. It contains a size four Vandoren Tenor Saxophone reed. It is a new reed -unblemished, untouched by cruel lips nor smouldered in fires before. And there it sits, nestled in a glass cup of water, ripples slowly ebbing and gently carressing the fibres of the wood.

A cup of water was the only thing that told four poor humans in a trailer that a certain T-rex had recieved his invitation to dinner. And you've gotta love premonitions. And calculated risks. You see, a change of reed is a calculated risk. Especially after Band Camp. A reed, if I am correct, takes about a few hours of rigourous usage to be seasoned perfectly, and to be able to produce the best quality tone from the instrument. Personally i judge the seasoned-ness of a reed by its ability to produce a pianissimo tone at first asking. But that's a story for another age.

I am taking a calculated risk, in hoping for the reed to get seasoned enough in these seven or more hours before concert. It raises a tiny thrill inside to not know the quality of the reed till it is too late to change and too late to hope. Putting all your eggs in one basket, the ancients call it.

Thus even as the reed soaks further into the water, and the layers beneath peel and disintergrate, evaporating into nothingness as the fibres slowly melt and mesh together smoothly it looks peaceful, and tranquil outside. The water barely ripples. And that's how it is with my life.

The water barely ripples. A premonition. We do not notice it till dinnertime.

world

2006-11-29T00:48:00.000+08:00

This world is not my home I'm just a passing through my treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door and I can't feel at home in this world anymore O Lord you know I have no friend like you if Heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do?the angels beckon me from Heaven's open door and I can't feel at home in this world anymore They're all expecting me and that's one thing I know my savior pardoned me and now I onward go I know He'll take me through though I am weak and poor and I can't feel at home in this world anymore...

2006-11-28T23:28:00.000+08:00

"You said that irony was the shackles of youth. "

emo

2006-11-24T00:42:00.000+08:00

I am feeling rather heavy laden right now, as I tend to do, the night before I go to Band Camp, as well as during the nights in Camp, mainly because I don't really get much sleep, and when you don't get much sleep, you tend to think. And your thinking is oft heart shaped. And rose tinted.

It's times like these where you wish you had someone, that special someone to send a message to, and your phone would whirr in jubilation a mere two minutes later, or to give a call to and hear a familar voice, shaking off the first moments of sleep and perking up at the sound of yours. It's times like these where you know that you're not alone, that someone across the country's thinking about you the same way you're thinking about her. Your face is lit up by the warm glow of companionship, and the world spins on, but at a pace which neither bogs you down or makes you afraid.

I'm a retard for stayingup late at night in a cold year four classroom wondering if my phone might whirr for the love of all things good, pondering and pining while the rest of humanity sleeps on unperturbed by these feelings of youth, passion and things hoped for but things never attainable.

Have you ever watched a certain episode of Mr. Bean, where it's New Year's Eve and Mr Bean lies in his bed, having gently and lovingly put Teddy to bed in his snug drawer, feeling himself loved, snug and warm under the covers as he had just celebrated a New Beginning with friends, a couple of men, whom he considered, even if they had not, to be companions. Mr Bean closes his tired eyes, a warm smile creeps across his face, but is soon enough erased with the shout of "Happy New Year!" reaching his ears, stinging like a bullet. Didn't he? Wait..Didn't they just.. Wasn't it just..?Why did..?

He's not angry, he's not sad. You can't be angry at losing what you didn't have, nor can be disappointed by someone that never was . He's just thinking, and wondering. A heart shaped thought, rose tinted thought. And I'll bet, that even after the laughter track fades, and the credits roll, even after the screen blackens and he is no more, the man still thinks, and wonders.

And I doubt he'd get much sleep too. I think so much because I know so little, and you won't tell me otherwise.

grandmaster

2006-11-24T00:01:00.001+08:00

Brother Liow showed me a once forgotten link, and I treasure that link. It helps me understand stuff.

I salute thee, Grandmaster. Really I do.

"And you know I'm a dreamer, but my heart's of gold?"

2006-11-21T00:01:00.000+08:00

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong.
Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand.
Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries.
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes.

So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts.
You are not alone

cheryl

2006-11-20T23:41:00.000+08:00

- cher; Are There Lilac Trees in the Heart of Town?* says:

" Bukahrin <33"

"Bukharin 1) good orator 2)nice sexay bald patch 3)is angmoh 4)wrote a loving testimonial to his wife and kids 5) admitted because he wanted to preserve his wife and kids 5) is brilliant 6) a "golden boy" of the Bolsheviks 7) one of the youngest members 8)had a good (and handsome) head on his shoulders 9)rather clean-cut, responsible, can bring home to mummy 10) his balls are all still intact "

shiver me timbers... cheryl sim raises the standard of prospective suitors.

2006-11-20T21:54:00.003+08:00

In a sudden revelation:

Nobody, ever should write at 7.55 on a dreary monday evening, rain outside and you freezing inside a lonely library with only former trees, the odd couple, a random hot chick and an even more random old man for company. And you think you'd get used to it after a while. That's when the hot chick leaves and the old man coughs loudly. But bahhumbug, I was angsty oskays, hence that gall flavoured previous post.

But, as mentioned, in a sudden revelation, I realize that my angst was unwarranted. Unwarranted, because if it's warranted, then it deserves attention and address, which I want neither of. Aiyah this may seem of the cryptic, but it's very simple. Can be exprained via math, which I suck at. NO. Which I used to suck at.

Add the following:

Dreary monday evening
Rain
Igloo Temperature
Disappearance of Heating Element(nah not really)
Sudden pangs of abject lonliness/sim tia

And Subtract:

Rationa lthinking and appreciation of the people you have around you and how much they mean to you

= Unwarranted sacarstic limerickz :(

That makes sense right. If not then drop to math studies lor..

But yeah, take whatcha read with a pinch of salt k? Tis not good, to be overtly emo. Sigh. I apologize

woah

2006-11-20T19:51:00.000+08:00

hahahahahahaha wow omgeez omgeeezz..hic! Good one, good one. GOOD ONE

Such cruel deception, Such a device
Such kind words, oh wait were you just trying to be nice?
Akin to a dream, too good to be true,
It's hilarious, that I thought I meant something to you.

I really should stop channelling moments of abstract bitterness and disappointment into limericks. The form is fun, but the substance, well, stings. Nah it's not anger, bitterness or disappointment actually. You can only feel bitter about something that's lost. Rather it's just the simple, solitary feeling of watching your castles in the air being washed away by the sudden, gushing, roaring waves of a flushed toilet.

No biggie.

desmond

2006-11-17T23:09:00.000+08:00

Today there was a guy, behind a glass panel at Pasta Mania who stopped placing ham on a pizza, came to the counter and inquired, "Hey remember me?".

Naddah. So I said, hey yeah you look familar, dragging it while doing major thought processing so it came out like haaaayyyyyy...yeeahhhhh yooooou...look..familaaaar. with a look that crosses constipation with intense concentration.

"Desmond, from JS?", he offered.

I remember Desmond. He was never in my class, but we used to do weird things together in primary two and three, like collect army styled erasers. But then again, who didn't collect army styled erasers? The warship was pure gold. Desmond was a good kid, he was always laughing, although he didn't channel as much energy into education as he did with rubber appreciation. And yes, we used to call erasers rubber. A perfect example of ignorant knowledge.

Desmond, circa 2006 wasn't always laughing. First of all, he looked 25 in the black uniform of the establishment. Maybe it was his gold-cropped hair and earrings. He told me, clutching strips of ham that he went to Monk's Hill Secondary after leaving JS, and eventually Republic Polytechnic and well was working as a pizza artist to make ends meet.

And it hits me that Desmond, JS alumnus is doing more for himself, society and Italian food in general than any one of us slogging in the name of education. Success is subjective, and in the long run graduates from the International Baccelaurate program may have fatter wallets or bigger houses,

But at least now, Desmond the pizza artist is being a man, working for his keep, doing something with his life, gold hair and earrings in tow. And suddenly I can't say that I've been there, done that, or am world weary because I haven't been anywhere and done anything worthy to be standing on the other side of the glass panel, slamming salami onto circular dough with the intensity of a seven percent GST hike.

2006-11-13T22:01:00.000+08:00

gary moore - still got the blues

I love this song.

verse

2006-11-13T21:55:00.000+08:00

I'm updating like the plague. Ah well.

Hey, someone placed a "The Believer's Promise Book" in my room I notice. On the second page it declares : "Your relationship with God through Jesus is very close and very special. This book will help you sense it more deeply, for it brings together His promises, helping you grasp your very personal relationship with God; God's promises for your times of need, and special prayers and God's answers."

No harm trying then. It sucks that as I become more aware of society it's hard to just accept things as truth, and more importantly infallible and constant truth. And personally, especially this year everything that I held on to, or thought was given and constant, or wished to hold on to has been tugged from under my feet.

So it's hard, for me, to just believe again. To just 'wait and see God's plan.' To put it simply, waiting hasn't done me an incredible amount of good in recent times. So it's hard. But I'm learning to walk again.

So I opened the booklet, and the first three verses I see are :

"Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his eye too dull to hear."- Isaiah 59:1

"I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear ; I will help you." - Isaiah 41:13

and "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, our ears will hear a voice behind you saying, "This is the way, walk in it." - Isaiah 30:21.

I sincerely want to believe that. Sincerely.

2006-11-13T19:42:00.000+08:00

I can't seem to put a finger on what's troubling and gnawing at me , so i'm going out for a run now. Then maybe I'll try to pray.