Innawol

A Parting Note

2005-12-24T09:32:00.000+08:00

I have an announcement: this blog will cease to be updated as of 24th December 2005, 2359h GMT+8.

I would be shifting to a new server. Please update your links to http://lovelyloey.wordpress.com

I might be shifting some of my book reviews and whatnot over, it all depends. Meanwhile, have a happy Christmas.

Exam Results

2005-12-23T11:08:00.000+08:00

My abysmal grades are out.
EL1101E - B
EU1101E - B-
GEK1000- B
LAF1201 - B+
TS1101E - A-
Hence, CAP = 3.7

Should I be happy? Just for the sake I didn't get any Cs? I'm thoroughly saddened by the B for EL though.

Joyeux Noel

2005-12-23T08:02:00.000+08:00

I was watching the TV when I saw the trailer for the French film, Joyeux Noel, which is about a ceasefire on the warfront on Christmas Eve, 1914. This reminded me of something I read about from Merriman:

"On Christams Day, 1914, on the western front in France, German and British soldiers spontaneously declared their own one-day truce, some meeting in no-man's-land to exchange greetings, souvenirs, and even home addresses. A German juggler surfaced to perform, drawing applause from the opposing British trench. In one or two places, soldiers from both orders that such an event was not to recur. There were even occasional informal arrangements between units that had been facing each other across no-man's-land for several months, agreeing not to fire during meal-time, or entertaining each other in verse or song, with the most talented singers in the trenches booming songs from their home regions across the battlefield. " (pp. 1068, A History of Modern Europe Vol. 2, John Merriman)

Such things can almost make people hate war, right?

So damn bloody scared

Twelve Days Of Christmas

2005-12-22T19:50:00.000+08:00

The midi you hear now is none other than The Twelve Days Of Christmas, my favourite carol. Here, as I did last year, I shall post the lyrics to the song from my memory.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a patridge on a pear tree.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, seven swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids-a-milking, even swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing, eight maids-a-milking, even swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, ten lords-a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids-a-milking, even swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eleven pipers piping, ten lords-a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids-a-milking, even swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords-a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids-a-milking, even swans-a-swimming, six geese-a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a patridge on a pear tree!

There. My favourite carol. Now feel free to sing along to the midi. Have a merry christmas in advance, in the event that I spontaneously combust at 1101h tomorrow morning.

Absolute Tosh

2005-12-22T16:21:00.000+08:00

I was looking through friend's blogs and reading about their holidays, and how meaningful it was for them to go to MINDS camp, go carolling, home visits, charity drives, and even go on trips! And when I examine my own few weeks of lazing about, reading, stuffing my face with food, combat classes and MapleStory... I feel extremely underachieved.

Flying Dutch

2005-12-22T07:56:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: It's amazing the problems drinking can get you into. One little swig from the wrong bottle and you're doomed to an enternity of drifting around the world with a similarly immortal crew. Worse still, Richard Wagner writes an opera about you. However, a chance encounter in an English pub might just bring about an end to his horrible cursed life for Cornelius Vanderdecker- one way or another

Well, I admit that I don't remember the story of The Flying Dutchman but this, like any other Tom Holt, caught me laughing. The silliness in the motley crew (no pun intended), the crazy ideas only Tom Holt can think off and the horrible stupidity of all the villians. But I never enjoyed any book more than The Portable Door, which is one of my, if not favourite book by him.

Spell Fantastic

2005-12-22T07:50:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Fantasy is fueled by spells, from those cast by simple love potions to the great workings of magic which can alter the very nature of reality, destroy seemingly all-powerful foes, offer power or punishment, immortality or death. In Spell Fantastic, thirteen of today's finest word wizards have crafted unforgettable takes with which to enchant your imagination.
From a minor wizard running a magic shop who suddenly finds himself the prime suspect in a mysterious murder... to a girl discovering her special "gift" which can reveal who people really are... to a computer with a mgic all its own... here are thirteen original tales of spells worked to change destiny for good or ill.

Don't be fooled by the cover; this is no hardcore beastality nor historical fantasy. Most of the stories are set in modern era, in fact, only a few with mentions to witches and warlocks, dragons and dungeons. It is a mildly entertaining book, though quite disappointing because I felt some of the stories can, and should be further expounded.

C'est Ennuyeux

2005-12-21T19:46:00.000+08:00

It's boring. I have absolutely nothing to blog about. Apart from the fact that I've decided not to JS1101E and am going to do CL1101E instead, to fulfil my faculty requirement. Now stop laughing, if you will, for a minute. My reason being- it's the same as doing EL1101E, except it's about the Chinese Language. You draw tree diagrams as well, learn about phonetics and what not... just that it's not an open-book exam, that's all.

Anyway, 4 days to Christmas, and I'm still in the process of memorising all the 12 different types of items in Twelve Days Of Christmas. No, not carolling, just for sheer interest.

Round-Up

2005-12-20T20:47:00.000+08:00

Said I would do a round-up of all books read and blogged about this year (because checking my archives is the only way for me to track what I have read). In chronological order:
1. Balzac And the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Shijie (translated by Ina Rilke)
2. A Walk To Remember by Nicholas Sparks
3. Candles On Bay Street by K.C. McKinnon
4. Timepiece by Richard Paul Evans
5. Toxin by Robin Cook
6. Shopaholic And Sister by Sophie Kinsella
7. The Rescue by Nicholas Sparks
8. The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffnegger
9. Eat, Shites and Leaves: Crap English And How To Use It by Antal Parody
10. The Looking Glass by Richard Paul Evans
11. French Impressions: The Adventure of An American Family by John S. Littell
12. Confessing A Murder by Nicholas Drayson
13. Harry Potter And The Half-blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
14. In Your Dreams by Tom Holt
15. How To Be Good by Nick Hornby
16. A Year In The Merde by Stephen Clarke
17. Little People by Tom Holt
*18. The Tempest by William Shakespeare
*19. A Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen
*20. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
*21. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
*22. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
23. The Little Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery
24. The Magician's Guild by Trudi Canavan
25. The Novice by Trudi Canavan
26. The High Lord by Trudi Canavan
27. Contagion by Robin Cook
28. Only Human by Tom Holt
29. Acquired Taste by Peter Mayle
30. Di Tu by Ni-kuang
31. The Memory Game by Nicci French
32. The Feng Shui Detective by Nury Vittachi
33. Message In A Bottle by Nicholas Sparks

(* - prescribed readings for English Literature)

A year of genre toggling, from Shakespeare to romance, fantasy to scientific thrillers, Chinese books to translated French classic and from semi non-fiction to chick lit. I would reckon this to be a good mix of books, don't you think? And I guess Trudi Canavan, Nicholas Sparks and Tom Holt tie at the being the most frequently read author. I think HBP holds top notch at being the longest novel this year, if I don't finish Jonathan Strange And Mr. Norrell by 31 December. I seem to think there is a whole chunk that is not documented- I do recall reading a few more Tom Holt and other strange novels I picked up at jumble sales. Oh well.

Message In A Bottle

2005-12-20T07:22:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Thrown to the waves, and to fate, the bottle could have ended up anywhere. Instead, it is found just three weeks after it begins its journey. Theresa Osbourne, divorced and the mother of a twelve-year-old son, picks it up during a seaside vacation from her job as Boston newspaper columnist. Inside is a latter that opens with: My dearest Catherine, I miss you darling, as I always do, but today is particularly hard because the ocean has been singing to me, and the song is that of our life together... For "Garrett", the man who signs the letter, the message is the only way he knows to express his undying love for a woman he has lost. For Theresa, wary of romance since her husband shattered her trust, the message raises quiestions that intrigue her. Who are Garrett and Catherine? Where is he now? What is his story?
Challenged by the mystery, and pulled to find Garrett by emotions she does not fully understand, Theresa begins a search that takes her to a sunlit coastal town and an unexpected confrontation. Brought together by chance- or something more powerful- Theresa and Garrett are people whose lives are about to touch for a purpose, in a tale that resonates with our deepest hopes for finding that special someone and everlasting love.

Seriously. I do not regret reading this book. I just feel that it reassures me of my stoicism towards all things romantic in novels. Or perhaps my "deepest hopes for finding someone special" doesn't involve cliche plot devices. People like Nicholas Sparks because it's romantic, touching, tear-jerking (apparently there is always major character death, like A Walk To Remember) and all the other adjectives I don't think I ever used in any of my reviews. For me, Nicholas Sparks is a safe read. Where I know how the story will go, and I can safely skim and skip sentences and paragraphs, having the full knowledge that I'm not missing out much. For me, Nicholas Sparks falls under "easy-reading", where I would just the story guide me, I don't have to agree with it, I don't even have to laugh along or cry along, I just read. It almost feels as though I'm reading for the sake of reading it, but I assure you, I'm not quite there yet. Its just like taking a sip of distilled water between wines- I need an nonsensical story between books that I'm actually interested in.

Books read and documented to date in Dec: 10 (Not good enough! I was aiming for 1 book a day! )
And soon I will have a round-up of this year's read. Well, at least those that I blogged about.

Am I seeking escape and solace in books?

Ink Inc.

2005-12-19T18:48:00.000+08:00

As you can see, a new skin. Well, not exactly a new layout, but definitely a new picture up there. And yes, I did it myself. Although brushes are filched from Obsidian Dawn, but that's a minor detail. So, as I was saying, I was thinking that "Brainwashed" is so totally not-me, (and I repeat that in a bimboish accent, so toe-ter-laye not may), so ta-da! After half an hour of twiddling around, there you have it- Ink Inc.

The whole inspiration behind this piece (ooh, I sound like an artist) is that "they say the pen is mightier than the sword", yet when I was trying to write with my favourite pen today, it ran out of ink. So what's use of a pen without ink? So, this blog, is ink incorporated- any lack of coherent and interesting post is purely due to lack of brain prowess on my part, not to be blamed on the lack of ink. Yes, yes, I know that technically we type this out in cyberspace, taking up bandwidth in the cyberworld and there's no real ink involved, but I'm talking about the metaphorical action of "writing", which involves a writing instrument and hence a pen? Right. No point explaining it further.

The Feng Shui Detective

2005-12-19T12:21:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Good writing, good mystery writing, and arcane manuals of Eastern mysticism are normally three quite unrelated fields.
No more. In these strange and compelling stories, you'll find all three as you enter the wonderfully odd world of C.F. Wong. He is not quite a private eye nor exactly a Zen sage. He is a feng shui master, a geomancer who measures energy flows in and around buildings- and solves a few mysteries on the way.
Innovative, mystical, craftily plotted, and leavened with a generous dose of hymour, this high original entertainment will leave you enlightened to one unassailable truth: There's never been an investigator like Mr Wong.

Ask me not why I read this book- if I had to provide an excuse for it, it would be for the sheer entertainment value. The 9 short stories revolves around this fengshui master based in Telok Ayer street of Singapore and his angmoh apprentice/assistant/intern. The feng shui concepts are interesting, albeit dry at certain points. But I still don't think feng shui and mystery fiction can come together. A strange murder in Katong, a man-eating lion in Malaysia, boozing and porn-reading monks in Vietnam... what has all these got to do with feng shui? One thing good though, was that it highlights the fact that there is really no mysticism in all these, only clever criminals.

This is an entertaining read, the horrible jokes about blondes, New Zealand accents, strange English idioms we use and never really questioned and yadda yadda. It's a really short book as well, about 310 pages. Great for an afternoon of lazing about and not wanting to expell too much brain power.

The Memory Game

2005-12-18T21:00:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: When a skeleton is unearthed in the Martello's garden, others rattle ominously in their cupboards. For the bones belong to their teenage daughter Natalie, who went missing twenty-five years ago. So the murderer must be very close to home...
Does Natalie's childhood friend Jane- now divorcing Claud Martello- hold the key to the mystery? And are all their memories- of a golden girl at the heart of an idyllic extended family- false?

Man, I sort of figured out/suspected the murderer about one quarter into the book. And I'm disappointed that the ending wasn't more creative- like Jane being the killer and she had a spontaneous amnesia about it, just like Robert DeNiro in Hide And Seek. And I'm also disppointed that this book doesn't sound English, it sounds more American, despite it being written by an English author. Perhaps it's this thing about crime and suspense- they all sound American for some reason.

Not a spectacular book, not a good plot, and I wonder why I even bothered to finish the book. Perhaps just to prove to myself that I'm a good guesser and I must have read too many cliche storylines of this sort.

Bored

2005-12-17T14:44:00.000+08:00

I'm bored to tears on a Saturday afternoon because no one is around to go out. Hence surfing around and found this fantabulous video of Harry Potter. Got me laughing so hard I can't stop now.
Go see it here. Don't say I didn't warn you- it's seriously funny. And I feel sluggish and restless at the same time. A part of me wants to go hit the gym pronto but another part of me wants to snuggle in the plush seats at Coffee Beans, sip mocha latte while I go through another Tom Holt.

A Question for Utah

2005-12-16T20:03:00.000+08:00

A burning question I have to ask Utah everytime I do Camillia's Gem Quest:

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(click to enlarge)
Possibly Utah's been getting lucky with Camillia. Also note boxers next to bra. -snickers- And do I have to mention soiled bedsheet on the extreme right? We wonder what they've been up to...

A Chinese Novel

2005-12-16T18:03:00.000+08:00

Don't snigger! I do read Chinese books, all right? I particularly like the wèi si li series, for a very simple reason- the story is very short. Have you seen any book from this series? It measures 16.5cm by 10.5cm by thickness about 1.5cm. And besides, the sheer madness and fantastical storyline is kinda... entertaining. The bottomline of this book I picked up is about the protagonist picking up a map left behind by a friend who passed away and after some investigation, he realized it's a map of a friend's garden and yadda yadda buried treasure yadda yadda. Quite an interesting read if you asked me. The last time I read a Chinese book (not considering the iWeekly magazine I get each week) was eons ago. Definitely nothing within this year. So, I'm quite relieved that I haven't returned all things Chinese to the teachers.

Go Lightly Sugar Free Butterscotch

2005-12-16T17:47:00.000+08:00

Sweetened with Splenda (artifical sweetener I presume), Go Lightly Butterscotch has only 45 calories per 4 candy compared to the 60 calories for the same amount of regular butterscotch. Furthermore, unlike regular butterscotch, it's is fat free and has miniscule amount of butter. A healthier alternative for butterscotch addicts I think. It tastes the same, but I guess this is subjected to individual preference. I am hardly a butterscotch person (guess it is because regular butterscotch is just too sweet and fat). On the other hand, I am an artificial sweetener discerning machine of sorts- I can tell if something is being sweetened by aspartame or not and fortunately, Splenda is not aspartame nor saccharine based, making it a more palatable candy than the Equal chocolate bar, which I feel is totally icky.

Go Lightly Sugar Free Butterscotch is sold at all BIG pharmacies at $2.65 per pack. Each pack contains 28 candies. (I bought mine at the TTSH pharmacy- don't ask.)

Happiness

2005-12-15T21:55:00.000+08:00

Mark Twain once said "Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination."

Your sentiments?
I reckon happiness is a gift, a miracle, if not an anomaly. It is certainly not something we can take for granted, nor expect at every corner we turn. No one DESERVES happiness, it is not a right. As what Benjamin Disraeli said, "action may not always bring happiness, but there is no happiness without action." We must fight and work towards happiness, though more than often, it is in vain.

I no longer believe in happiness, just as I lost faith in happily-ever-afters and eternal bliss. Happiness, to me, is simple- it might be purely the ability to pass each day without having to worry about anything, it might be purely going to bed and not being afraid of getting a nightmare, it might just purely be able to sit with a friend and chat over coffee and about positive things too. I'm not even asking for a chance to fulfil my dreams, can you see my desperation?

Perhaps what Carl Jung said about happiness is right; "There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the years' course. Even a happy life cannot be without the measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."Just that some people get to live in the Arctic where there is grossly more days than nights in a year and some people live in perpetual eternal solar eclipse. Life's unfair, and I know it.

Love, Actually

2005-12-15T19:29:00.000+08:00

Maybe it's the holiday coming up that makes me feel like watching Love Actually again. It's probably the need for the warm, fuzzy feeling inside, knowing that perhaps in some way or another, by some miniscule proportion that true love might exist and true love might befall on me someday. Perhaps during the holiday season Strife and Fate get stoned on too much eggnog that they neglect the whole make-Wanni-a-sad-spinster-all-her-life plan and I can possibly meet someone nice during the holiday season. Or perhaps they decidedly take a break on a designated day each year to ensure they do not breach the Treat Mortals Fairly Accord. Seems like the promise I make myself each Valentines Day isn't going to materialize in 2006 after all. Seems like I might still be holding on to a tiny shred of a quark-sized hope that somehow if I pined for someone hard enough it would materialize.

oh well. Someone loan/get me Love Actually vcd/dvd and I'll stop rambling about my sad sad, non-existent, drier than dry love life.

Acquired Tastes

2005-12-14T16:31:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: In Acquired Tastes, Peter Mayle, the erudite sojourner and New York Times bestselling author of A Year in Provence and Toujour Provence, sets off once more, travelling the world in search of the very best life has to offer. Whether telling us where to buy the world's best caviar or how to order a pair of thirteen-hundred-dollar custom-made shoes, advising us on the high cost of keep a mistress in style or the pros and cons of household servants, he covers everything the well-heeled- and those vicariously so inclined- need to know to enjoy the good life.
From gastronomy to matrinomy, from the sartorial to the baronial, Acquired Tastes is Peter Mayle's most delicious book yet- an irreverently spiced smorgasbord of rich dishes you're sure to enjoy.

All right, I said no book review thingy for today? I lied. This book is just too funny to be ignored! As mentioned in the review, of buying expensive shoes to eating caviar and truffles (the fungi, not the chocolate), of cuban cigars to 900-franc shirts, of private jet-owning friends to holiday timeshare, this book is indeed a layman's guide to the lavish lifestyle in Europe. Hats that cost $1000 and the no-nonsense rules to tipping, all covered in 230 pages of this witty read.

I haven't read A Year in Provence, but I certainly hope it'll be as good at Stephen Clarke's A Year In The Merde. Oh yes, the sequel is out- Merde Actually. Can't wait for SOMEONE to finish it and loan it to me. -sniggers-

Over-sleeping

2005-12-14T13:05:00.000+08:00

I must have overslept last night. I slept 13 hours straight- can you believe it? I fell asleep while reading another Tom Holt at about 6 plus yester-evening, and woke up at about 7-plus but decided against getting up (ah-ha, difference between se réveiller and se lever) and continued sleeping till 7.30am this morning. And then I learn one drawback of oversleeping- memory lapse. It felt as though I skipped a day between monday and wednesday. But still, it feels good to get adequate rest and I woke up a happy person today.

No book review/recommendation thingy today, that Tom Holt just got neglected at about 60% into the book.

Only Human

2005-12-12T20:39:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Something is about to go wrong. Very wrong. But what can you expect when the Supreme Being decides to get away from it all for a few days, leaving his naturally inquisitive son to look after the cosmic balance of things?
A minor hiccup with a human soul and a welding machine soon leads to a violent belch, and before you know it the human condition- not to mention the lemming condition- is tumbling down the slippery slope to chaos. There's only one hope for mankind. And that's being optimistic.

Father and Jay (presumably God and Jesus) decided to take a fishing trip to some obscure corner of the universe, leaving the second begotten son, Kevin and Uncle Ghost (presumably the Holy Ghost) to keep cosmic balance. Such surreality and comic fantasy are the things I like in fiction. I've come to realize serious hardcore fantasy (involving warlocks, beastality and arcane names) are not my style; I prefer talking machines, personification of the Supreme beings in a comic way. Explains why Tom Holt is one of my favourite authors. Just keeps me entertained and amused.

And something meaningful I came across in the book (hey, it might be a load of tosh in the jokes, but there are still some sense):

"... What humans do, and nothing else even tries to do, is pursue happiness." (pp. 115)
"[Animals] obey instinct. Genetic programming. Hardly do thing as falling in love or collecting first-day covers." (pp. 116)

Doesn't that give you this warm fuzzy feeling that, hey, we are something different from apes (though annoyings kids are still bleating young goats) and life has greater meaning of sorts. Oh well, whatever.

The High Lord

2005-12-11T17:33:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Sonea has leanred much since she was but a penniless urchin possessing an awesome untapped ability. She has earned the grudging respect of her fellow novices and a place ins the Magicians' Guild. But there is amuch she wishes she had never learned- what she witnessed, for example, in the underground chamber of the mysterious High Lord Akkarin... and the knowledge that the Guild is being observed closely by an ancient fearsome enemy.
Still, she dares not ignore the terrifying truths the High Lord would share with her, even though she fears it may be base trickery, a scheme to use her astonishing powers to accomplish his dark aims. For Sonea knows her future is in his hands- and that only in the shadows will she achieve true greatness... if she survives.

Why? Why? Why? Why must Trudi Canavan make Sonea fall for Akkarin, and subsequently kill him? Why? This is so unfair, and to make matters worse, leave a lovechild behind! So much is introduced in this last book of the trilogy, and how my views of Akkarin changed as I learnt about his past (and I never knew he was supposed to be a good-looking 33-year-old). And I seriously had hoped for Sonea and Akkarin to live happily ever after. But no, she must kill him.

Just like how I fear JKR will kill Harry eventually. And to think about it, Regin has some resemblance to Draco Malfoy- the school bully who eventually turns good. (Well, I believe and hope Drakie-poo will revoke to the Light.) Well, I enjoyed the series, nothing fantabulous about it, but entertaining.

Livres Français

2005-12-10T14:14:00.000+08:00

I was at Kinokuniya Main Branch and I am so totally awed by their French collection. There are French translations of The Da Vinci Code, Bridget Jones' Diary, The Sun Also Rises (frankly, I was quite tempted to buy) and Lord of The Rings. And it occurred to me that it was cheaper to read the Lord of The Rings trilogy in French; each book was only $15-something. And coupled with the 20% storewide discount for members until 2 Jan, it would only cost $12-plus! Well, I'm not a member, but I know of someone who certainly is. And even the other translated novels aren't expensive, about the same price as the English versions.

And the funny was, the music overhead that section was the Starwars soundtrack. Reminds me too much of Chestnuts.

Chestnuts 2005

2005-12-09T08:34:00.000+08:00

Chestnuts Episode III: Revenge of the Shooting Stars

What happens when you attend a show that begun with the actors stripping a crew. Down to his Renoma underwear that glowed in the dark, and subsequently him squirming out of it? (in the dark of course) This is Chestnuts 2005, and it was worth every cent of the ticket price. It's not every other show you get to see stripping, all right. (Besides Quills And Modern Dance For Beginners) And what do you do at digs at our favourite celebrities, for example, being asked to imagine the horror of Julian Hee attempting a dramatic monologue? You laugh. And I have learnt from my favourite segment of all Chestnuts- Pondan NewsAsia, that deep-throating produces a nasal sound coupled with an open back vowel, like "nga" as in TimothyNga. The double entendu and sexual innuendos just overwhelms me. And let's not forget the digs on Rent, The Maid, Star Wars and the "The Exorcism of Emily of Emerald Hill", using "wildrice" in place of glutinious rice. And "Lao Jui: The Musical"- leaking the Esplanade soon.

There's not much point of me trying to recall segments for you, you just have to be there yourself. Show runs till Sunday, so if you're really kin, go catch it. But I guess this is not for the faint-hearted narrow-minded homophobic uptight boring people. Other than that, just go and catch the show. It is really that amazing.

And here I go again, as per every year- I can't wait for next year's show. And -gasp- next year is the 10th anniversary. And we know what that means- SPECIAL SPECIAL SPECIAL.

I think I look bisexual in my new hairstyle.

Maple Shot

2005-12-09T08:32:00.000+08:00

Here's a picture of me and KL during our Mapling. Unlike me, KL has the gross misfortune of having a character named by her sister. Please, just ignore the name.

And as you an see, I have a new axe! Courtesy of green slime in Field South of Ellina.

Mark of Beta

2005-12-08T08:08:00.000+08:00

Yes, I've gotten my Mark of Beta from Nemi the zombie-lookalike at Lith Harbor. Have you? And yes, to answer all queries, I am playing the boy shown in the picture above. Simply because I think the male warrior outfits are nicer. And yes, my name is Brecht, named after Bertolt Brecht the dramatist. I have also created Vsevolod (Meyerhold) should I want to play a bandit. I think I might consider Shakespeare the mage if it's not already taken.

Think it's a cool game? I will post more screenshots in future, now that I know at least KL is playing and I won't bore anyone with such things.

Contagion

2005-12-07T18:36:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: From the undisputed master of the medical thriller comes the story of a deadly epidemic spread not merely by microbes but by sinister sabotage- a terrifying cautionary tale for the millennium as the health care giants collide...

I have read many of Robin Cook's thrillers, including Seizure, Outbreak, Chromosome 66... And like the others, this one is filled with many medical lingo that I do not comprehend. Nevertheless, it is successful as a thriller because I have been forced to go through the novel in one sitting. Although the ending sucked, but it was to the true Robin Cook style of expecting the most unexpected person to be a crook.

I don't have anything else to say about this book, because reading such novels (like those by Patricia Cornwell) is sort of a ritual to me- I don't read it out of sheer interest, but for the sake of having something to read. I thought including this in my selection of readings for this week will serve as a good diversion from the fantasy books I've procured.

And I apologize for boring all you people with my inane reviews. I just don't seem to find anything more interesting to blog about.

Paulo Coelho

2005-12-07T07:48:00.000+08:00

I apologize to all fans of his, because I certainly am not one, he is a bad author. If he could hold my attention past the first 15 pages of Veronika Decides to Die, perhaps I can consider sympathizing with the people in the stories. Alas, he can't hold my attention for that long.

The only one thing that caught my attention in first 15 pages the book:
"If God exists, and I truly don't believe he does, he will know that there are limits to human understanding. He was the one who created this confusion in which there is poverty, injustice, greed and loneliness. He doubtless had the best of intentions, but the results have proved disastrous; if God exists, He will be generous with those creatures who chose to leave this Earth early, and he might even apologize for having made us spend time here."

So much for hope fiction, isn't it? Just putting ideas in people's heads, I tell you. If they should have the misfortune of not being able to get past the first 15 pages, (and I think the chances of this happening is very high) they might end up agreeing and really sympathizing with the protagonist.

The Novice

2005-12-06T15:42:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Alone among all the novices in the Magicians' Guild, only Sonea comes from lowly beginnings. Yet she has won powerful allies- including Lord Dannyl, newly promoted to Guild Ambassador. But Dannyl must now depart for the Elyne court, leaving Sonea at the mercy of the lies and malicious rumours her enemies are busy spreading... until the High Lord Akkarin steps in. The price of Akkarin's support is dear, however, because Sonea, in turn, must protect his mysteries- and a secret that could lead a young novice mage deep into the darkness.
Meanwhile, Dannyl's first order to resume High Lord Akkarin's long-abandoned research into anciet magical knowledge is setting him on an extraordinary journey fraught with unanticipated peril- as he moves ever-closer to a future both wondrous... and terrible.

I feel that the sypnosis does no justice to the book, for it mentions nothing about the story being the second book in the Black (Dark) Magician Trilogy, nor does it mention of budding romances, Lord Rothen's helplessness, the cruelty of Regin, Sonea's strength and the countless other more brilliant things in the story. However, I think Trudi Cavanan is good in a way that she is able to make book 2 a stand-alone book as well- I suppose someone without prior knowledge of book 1 can comprehend the story. I really wished that this series was longer, and more time could be spent on looking into the magick they use and theories behind it.
Then again, I can always fall back on my Jonathan Strange And Mr. Norrell if I want something more down-to-earth (so as to speak, less fantastical), and for something more long-winded just for the leisurely pace at which magick and characters are being introduced to the readers. I'm halfway through it now, just a matter of hours before I finish it.

Anyway, it seems that I've acquired a very interesting selection of books from the library yesterday- ranging from Paolo Coelho to Robin Cook, fantasy to history. And imagine my shock to see a book titled "Trafalgar"- nothing else but about Napoleon's battle at Trafalgar. It seems history will always be around to haunt us. (In case you're wondering, no, I did not borrow that book.)

A book a day keeps the boredom away.

Lipton Herbal Infusion

2005-12-04T19:00:00.000+08:00

If you have had the Berry Tea from Coffee Club, you would certainly love this infusion. The sour taste of the berries accompanied by the aroma, my worlds certainly cannot describe how good it is. And the tea is red- typical of all berry teas, duh. And you know what's the best part? It's caffeine free! So whilst it might not be a good idea to use it as a caffeine pump during those mugging nights (or overnight Mapling), it's definitely harmless to have more.

It's going at about $1.85 for 10 teabags, totally affordable. (Compared to the $8.50 a pot at Coffee Club, which gives about 2.5 cups, duh.)

ANOTHER five weird facts about me

2005-12-04T09:43:00.000+08:00

Back by popular request (namely WZ's and KL's tag), I will randomly select another 5 really weird facts about me. Possibly just the really anal quirks that I have. But whatever. (Here's the previous 5)

1. I must keep my computer's recycle bin empty almost all the time.
2. I have a funny nose. Actually a funny facial bone structure.
3. I dig French manicures. I do French manicures (by myself).
4. The one thing that would attract me to anyone's house is a library of interesting books. I really really want to work with books as a career.
5. If I had magical powers, I would crucio all the impudent kids (even goats' babies aren't so naughty!) who scream and run about in the ADULT section of libraries. No wait, crucio just makes them scream more. All right, AK (avada kedevra) it is then.

There you go. An insight into the sociopathic, obsessive-compulsive, à la mode bookbug.

Can't wait for launch of Cassiopeia! 1100h GMT+8, 5th December.

Snowflakes

2005-12-02T21:29:00.000+08:00

Since Christmas is just round the junction, corner, carrefour, intersection, turn... (you get the idea), let's cut some snowflakes!

Here are two great sites for snowflake templates:
PaperSnowflakes.com

And this flash site where you can simulate your own design and save it:
Snowflakes.lookandfeel.com

Have fun. Great way to use up those stacks of reading we've been forced to photocopy and have no more economic value (i.e. cannot sell to someone else).

The Magician's Guild

2005-12-02T07:53:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: This year, like every other, the magicians of Imardin gather to purge the city of undesirables. Cloaked in the protection of their sorcery, they move with no fear of the vagrants and miscreants who despise them and their work -- until one enraged girl, barely more than a child, hurls a stone at the hated invaders . . . and effortlessly penetrates their magical shield.
What the Magicians' Guild has long dreaded has finally come to pass. There is someone outside their ranks who possesses a raw power beyond imagining, an untrained mage who must be found and schooled before she destroys herself and her city with a force she cannot yet control.

This is a marvellous read, which is able to make me forgo sleep and finish the book in the middle of the night (I did, in fact only sleep at 2.30 am). Although the magicians are a little to monk-like for my liking, but it seems to me that their powers are plausible, strong and controlled. No silly wand waving like Harry Potter, nor the giant staff in Lord of The Rings. All it takes is the mental prowess and a wave of the hand. And at some points it reminded me a little of Sophie's World, and got a little cliché with the "imagine your physical body disappearing, listen to the voice in your head..." yada.
All in all, if you are a fan of fantasy, this is a not bad read. Now I can't wait to lay my hands on books 2 and 3 of the trilogy. Anyone wants to give me an early Christmas present? -laughs-

Anyway, I guess I've gotten to the stage of taking about 3 hours to devour a 500-page novel. Point being? I'm going to be doing a helluva reading this holidays.

A Question of Fuckability

2005-12-01T20:59:00.000+08:00

Of non-existent words (like prescriptivism and canniving) and many other misused ones, I think the fuckability of my exams are pretty high. And not forgetting the fact I wrote my history essay halfway and suddenly dropped my pen and asked myself, "what the fuck?". It seemed that I forgot what I wrote in my introduction. So much for a convincing essay about how Bismarck achieve unification using underhand methods, huh? And theatre essays that are plain regurgitated, barfed, puked, threw up, chucked up, spewed, ejected... (need I go on?) And the really out-of-this-world essay I wrote for E Lit today- it really sounds more like an theatre essay than anything.

Oh well. It's over. The repurcussions will come to me in about 3 weeks' time. Meanwhile, I shall indulge myself. In the words of Prospero, "may your indulgence set me free". My own indulgence shall set myself free. -smirk-

Books I am Itching To Read

2005-12-01T07:59:00.000+08:00

Here are a few books I have procured (except for the last one) and am itching to read if not for imminent exam later in the afternoon.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell- a fantasy set in early 20th century London.

Part 1 of the Dark Magician Series, The Magician's Guild - A fantasy novel set in Idunnowhere.

The Little Prince- In French (!)

The Stories of English- an insight to the history and development of English. A cross between a novel and a non-fiction.

Well, 11 more hours before I'm officially emancipated to pursue and peruse these books. I just can't wait.

MSN Delete Checker

2005-11-29T18:00:00.000+08:00

It's a great tool, no doubt, to find out who on YOUR contact list has deleted you from theirs. It's disheartening for some to see people they adore/love/like/value delete them. It's just like having the door slammed in your face, and told to get out of their lives.
Well, it still has its flaws though, its checks deletes but not blockages. And for a person like me, who blocks at least 20 people on her contact list (hey, I actually have a group called "random people I ignore"), I believe in karma. And I'm not all ready to know who's blocking me.

And just in case you're wondering, I only found 1 person who deleted me, and I have blocked him anyway. :)

Go do the reality check here.

Throwing In The Towel

2005-11-28T20:15:00.000+08:00

That's right- I give up.
I bloody give up.
Fuck Napoleon and his Waterloo.
Fuck Wilhem II and his Weltpolitik.
Fuck Nationalism, Liberalism, Socialism and all the words that end with eye-ass-am.
Fuck the scramble for Africa and the other uninhabitable lands.
Fuck the Triple Entente and Triple Alliance.

I simply give up.
When this is all over, I'm going on a retreat to regain my sanity.

2005-11-27T14:47:00.000+08:00

Your IQ Is 115

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average
Your Verbal Intelligence is Exceptional
Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional
Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

Quick and Dirty IQ Test

I have no idea what's so dirty about this IQ test. And it seems I'm totally illogical. Oh well, fits my image of being the eccentric loony person. But 115 seems to be on the low side. I must have bombed all the logic questions.

Ode To Procrastinatius

2005-11-26T21:59:00.000+08:00

If Procrastinatius was a being,
I must be of his descent.
For in no other does his heritage run more true.
In my blood flows his art,
His belief, his sense, his workings.

He perfects the art of procrastination.
An act typically scorned,
Yet in me flows the very essence,
Of this age old craft,
And through my actions his legacy endured.

As I shun my heritage,
Procastinatius berates and scowls.
He claims I've betrayed him,
Choosing his traitor of a brother, Guilt.
Whose workings denied the lost ones happiness.

He deems me conflicted,
And entraps me in the evil cycle,
Of everlasting guilt and raw desire
To further his art, to procrastinate.
And the two always tied in together.

Stage Picture

2005-11-26T09:33:00.000+08:00

"There are 4 levels to the stage picture- 1, functionalistic; 2, socio-metric; 3. atmospheric; 4. symbolic. There are 4 main functions of lighting- 1, practical; 2. ambience; 3. iconographic ; 4. actantial"

And it should amaze you that the audience during the Greek period was far more active than those in the 18th century. Point being? I have no idea why I took Theatre Studies. It used to be a love-hate relationship when it came to drama, and now after doing 1 semester of probing, I don't even think I like drama that much anymore. It takes away the joy of watching a performance as a totally passive audience by preaching to us how ever since performance moved indoors, audience become sponges?

Now I understand why there are so few Theatre Studies and European Studies third-year majors. The introductory modules to them both are great hurdles to cross. Like I want to know about Napoleon's exile to St Helena and how Bismarck made the world hate France. These are things that can even quell the greatest of passions. Or maybe I just wasn't that passionate in the first place.

I hate exams.

New Skin

2005-11-25T22:36:00.000+08:00

Just didn't feel like study and hence went surfing for blog skin. Found this one on my third try, and I just like the clean lines.
And yes, everything's so grey because, as cliché as this might sound, there's no distinct white and black in life. (Sheesh, I can't believe I just said that.)
And Brainwashed because, well, aren't we all are?

And some things are missing, like Quote Of The Day, and my really cheesy self-introduction about me being 19 and merely part-timing as a flawed mortal.. yadda yadda. Like who doesn't know I'm perfect? -Snorts-

Anyway, I figured that I'm my own perfect lover. Although will be missing the physical intimacy of cuddling and snogging and 2 million other naughty things a couple can do (although I absolutely rule out the use of blindfolds, handcuffs, whips and Frenchmaid outfit). So yeah, as the get-to-know-me surveys' question goes, if I ever meet myself walking on the street, I'd grab her/me and snog the daylight out of her/me, as though she/I only remembered the oxygen tank is empty 500m underwater. -smirks- I'm that good, ok?

C'est Bizarre Ça!

2005-11-25T12:39:00.000+08:00

Something freaky happened to me last night- I am 100% positive, sûr et certain that I did not turn on the fan before I went to sleep.
And this morning I woke up with the fan on, and my mother said she did not turn it on. I am not suspecting of a poltergeist in my room, rather, I think I sleepwalk. As in, I'll wake up to turn on the fan and go back to sleep and wake up not knowing I did it? This is freaky.
I guess I'm under too much stress.

C'est Triste

2005-11-24T20:51:00.000+08:00

C'est triste. Any shard of hope for getting perfect score for EL is lost. And any hope for getting near perfect score is also as gone. I have failed myself. I blame not on my lack of knowledge or preparation, and I certainly do not blame the setter. It just seems that this is hope it's supposed to be , how I'm destined to do.
And on the bright side, it's only 30% of the final grade.

And it just occurred to me today that TS theory paper carries only 25% of the marks, but is one of my more memory-based paper. Oh well.

C'est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui faire ta rose si importante.

De Profundis Clamo Ad Te Domine

2005-11-24T08:26:00.000+08:00

"Out of the depths, I cry to You Lord." -- Cole in The Sixth Sense
I was catching the show on Channel 5 last night, never watched it before. And what can I say? I fully understand why people fell in love with Haley Joel Osment. Because I did. I like the sad, lost, pink nose look on blonds, especially blond boys. They look so clueless I just want to hug them and tell them everything's all right.

Anyway, M. Night Shyamalan. When I saw him appear as the doctor, I laughed. It's funny, you know?

Alas, I apologize for this post that is totally lacking in all cognition and sense, for I am due to be sitting for an English Language paper in less than 9 hours' time. Can't help but feel nervous, you see. Although this is the paper and subject I'm most confident in, I would still fear the prospect of not being able to secure perfect score (LOL. Just kidding).

Reading

2005-11-22T21:00:00.000+08:00

It scares me how long I haven't read a book for myself. Like, pick up a novel from the library or book store and indulge in my own suspension of disbelief. If I'm not wrong, my last novel was the Half Blood Prince, on July 16. Since then all I've been reading is school prescribed Literature text and the endless droning on Bonnie, Uncle Joe and Aldoph.
I have never not read a book for such a long period of time. It is scary. It makes me sound like an adult. You know the typical Singaporean adult woman- lack reading, lack exercise, eats too much and too much stress. I don't want to be like that! I want to have a life! I want to read!

Speaking of which, I've been eyeing books to read after my exams are over, such that I can read legitimately, so to speak. First I have read my Jonathan Strange, then I must lay hands on this other fantasy series I saw at Co-op (and nowhere else. That's strange.) And then I want to hit the classics (must read Alice In Wonderland again because heard that there are some digs at semiotics and linguistics in there).

I want to immerse myself in books again. And I do mean nothing of the academic requirement sort.

Old

2005-11-22T16:03:00.000+08:00

Quotation of the year- You know you are old when past injuries, like old friends, knock on your door and say "hi, remember me from 10 years ago?"

Precisely how I'm feeling now. The damn knee thing is back to haunt me. Though not from ten years ago, but still, it's an old friend. Perhaps back from a round-trip to Tokyo and decide to pay me a visit. Pardon my LIMP puns, they just aren't funny.

Knee pains aside, I'm absolutely snuggling over here. The rain, the sub-zero temperature (yes, cold day like that in our climate is considered sub-zero) and snuggling in my old long-sleeve tee with my beanie and a cup of warm milo (would be ubber better with hot chocolate though)... arh, I love cold weather.

Ode to a Slacker

2005-11-21T20:12:00.000+08:00

Bereaved of sensibility to partake
In an art form well-loved by students of this land,
The intricacies involved in the paper chase,
And the trepid fear of losing a moment-
to breathe, to live, to dream.

Alarmed at her own relaxed pace,
Time undulating, like a rubber band, stretchable.
The slacker cares not for time lost.
For she yet understands how precious time is,
as her peers do. She lives to dream.

Slaughtered as she might in the days yet arrived,
Decapitated body strewn across the complex,
Mutilated body, just as mutilated minds of exam-takers.
She dies not in agony but in shame,
As she drowns in overpouring finger-pointing.

I am hardly a poet, but that's the least I could do to try to show the morbid truth of the fate of slackers when it comes to exams.

Homophones? Homographs? Homonyms?

2005-11-19T20:38:00.000+08:00

I was thinking perhaps I should teach everyone what's these 3 things. I'm bored of studying, you see. Learning about Napoleon and Metternich and Hitler just makes you want to barf.

Anyway, homophones, homographs and homonyms.
Homophones are words that sound the same but spelt differently, like lies and lice.
Homegraphs are words that look the same by sound different, like wind in wind a clock and windmill.
Homonyms are words that are spelt the same and sound the same, but mean different things in different context, like school of fishes and a school you attend.

Yeah. There goes Wanni education series Part 1.

Another Product for the French

2005-11-18T15:06:00.000+08:00

Imagine my shock when I saw the words "Thé Vert" on a box of Goldkili Green Tea. And not only that, but instructions on how to make green tea in French.
Is it just my household buying the weird products or is it an "in" thing to use French on home brand items?

And since we're on this topic, I was really amused by my little niece and nephew (6 and 4 years old respectively) when I asked them if they knew what "French" was. The smart alecks shot back: French fries! French beans!

Right. So one semester of hardwork goes down the sewage pipe because I all I need to know is to cut potatoes and grow legumes to be French. And the same goes for German sausage, German beer, Swiss watches, Belgian chocolates, Italian pasta, Dutch tulips... Wait a minute. It's still not the same as French fries and French beans. -pouts- Well, at least it's not Thai and tigers. (Thai girls, get it?)

The next thing I want to see is French on toilet paper.

Screw the iPod

2005-11-17T13:51:00.000+08:00

No, not asking you to do naughty things to certain anatomy with the iPod, but according to Carl Irwin of the British Chiropractic Association, the device could be "a really serious problem" in the form of stress-related injury (RSI). He also went on to say "The action needed to move the wheel on an iPod is totally unnatural and effectively separates the joint in the thumb every time you use it." (Filched from http://e.thedivergency.com/post/1/83)

Ah-ha, there you are. Another reason not to fork out $438 for a 2gb iPod Nano, despite its sleek and tiny frame. Rather useless device, if you asked me. Small storage, no FM radio, no voice recorder, and now, it causes health problems to use it too much. Especially for a person who has the insane obsession with listening a song only to its chorus and skipping to the next.

Alas, it's still your own choice. Apparently the motion of SMS-ing on a phone has the same concern too. Our generation will most probably be killed by oversized thumb joints and thumb arthritis.

Harry Potter And The Goblet of Fire

2005-11-17T08:43:00.000+08:00

(Abbreviated as HP-GoF, Order of the Phoenix as OotP... you get the idea.)
It was a brilliant show, no doubt, but, alas, does not live up to my sky-high standards.
I would call it an entertaining ACTION movie, but definitely losing a lot from the book. I guess this is inevitable because there is just too much in the book and not enough time in the movie. Here, I fear the fate of OotP.

I found one thing lacking in HP-GoF was emotions. Emma Watson was over-acting in my opinion- Hermione is NOT a teary hormonal youth. She is a rational 14-year-old. Yet Emma Watson held this permanent I'm-so-going-to-cry look THROUGHOUT the entire show. And Dan Radcliffe, yes, surprisingly not-bad look in certain scenes, has a perpetual I'm-lost look in most parts of the show. I rather think the best acting came from Rupert Grint. His emotions are more subtle and he handled it very well. I guess because he's older so he understands- the rest are still just trying to get pass the awkward age. Drakie-poo as the bouncing ferret was cute. And I think his ruffled hair was to-die for. And Alan Rickman (Severus) is not good in this movie too- I'm disappointed. Maybe somehow I'm expecting a more forceful Snape. Or maybe it's social acting- Alan Rickman is acting as Severus Snape acting as a Deatheater. Oh well, perhaps the director this time just got carried away with the actions and CGI.

Yes, so back to the point of the lacking emotions. Yes, the entire movie was so action-packed, I don't get any character development out of it. Unlike HP-PoA, where you can see alot of emotion interplay, GoF was just a brute. Maybe that's just like what I learnt in TS about narrative text and dramatic text, where in the former, we are more concerned about who the characters are, and we have more time for the perusal of their personality whereas in the latter, we are more concerned about what the characters do, and have less time for insights into their personality. Perhaps in rationalising myself this way, I can come to accept GoF as a marginally good movie. Somehow I feel I'm a book person. I want time to discover the characters.

And yes, the GoF movie has spoiled the image of Portkey-ing for me. In fact, I fear that it is wrong. I thought there was supposed to be that feeling of some form of pulling from the navel and then this vertigo and whoosh- you are somewhere else, and not spinning into the air with portkey like some helicopter and landing flat on your bum, undignified?

But I like the prefect's bathroom. -heh- Comfy, isn't it?
And our (Yes, I didn't go alone after all) take on why the Durmstrang boat sinks- the students are all just as fat as Viktor Krum.
And the Beauxbatons students are just... bimbos?
And Cho... bah... don't remind me.

All in all, I'll grade this a 4 out of 5 star film is graded upon its entertainment value. If you want me to grade it as a Harry Potter text-to-screen, I guess it warrants about 3.38 stars (interesting parts of the book are missing... -pout-) and if you want me to grade it according to my expectations and what I would like- perhaps only 2.49 stars.
As I expected, I'll be disappointed with this movie. Sigh.

Cockroach Opera

2005-11-15T18:32:00.000+08:00

In about another 15 hours' time, we would have presented our final practical project for Theatre Studies.

I can't help be reminisce of these few weeks of practice, rehearsals, random fooling around... the good times and bad (we didn't really have a bad time, did we? We're such an amiable group.) I still remember fondly the rolls of laughters shared when talking about using toilet brushes and plastic turds as props, Dylan's major interest in teaching the girls how guys pee (and we all learn how innocent some of us are) and torrents of flashy costumes, feather boas...

This is my shortest performance yet- Bright Lights was a 2-hour affair, even though my part was only about half and hour, I was part of the big production. SYF piece was pretty long too, more than 30 minutes. I know The Ride Home at the then still called HCJC was 30 minutes on the dot. Cockroach Opera is only, 20 mins.

I can't help but be disappointed, even at this stage, because I know we are lacking in dynamics. I don't see that energy being thrown around and reciprocated. I wish I could do something to help it, but I can't.

It seems like my performance is going downhill. My acting is getting less spectacular, I guess. And it's not like I'm moving into the backstage or background. It seems like drama is abandoning me.

And I feel no pain. It's been a peaceful break-up.

Life is not like drama and drama is not like life. At least not in Beckett and Brecht's worlds.

Le Petit Prince

2005-11-14T21:26:00.000+08:00

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

--The Fox in The Little Prince

After reading the story once more,I still cannot fathom why people considered this book to be awe-inspiring, touching and moving. Perhaps it lies the entire plot-line being about an adult regretting growing up, and how wondrous it is to be a child and be innocent.
All tosh if you ask me. It's just like shutting yourself under the glass globe The Little Prince places on his rose, living in your own world, thinking that your rose is the prettiest. The fox is right, it is the time you have WASTED for your rose that makes your rose so important. It is the effort that we put into our lives, regardless futile or not, that makes something worthwhile, isn't it? Call me a cynic, but isn't this a little pushing the limits of self-deception?

Perhaps it's the context, or the Provencal French upbringing that is so different from my world view. But, trusting and believing what a snake and a fox says? I shouldn't think so. Or perhaps Sanit-Exupery is trying to put forth the irony of growing up- we believe what the grown-ups tell us, which is essentially made up by a previous generation. We grew up thinking that fox and snakes are sly, bats are signs of evil etc. that we take them to be facts, not assumptions.

Oh well. Maybe I'll have to read deeper into it when I have the time, and figure out ALL the metaphors employed.

Tea

2005-11-13T12:47:00.000+08:00

I think I've become a tea addict, especially for milk tea. Earl Grey with milk, Lipton with milk... my best companion for a day of studying/Mapling/bumming around in front of my laptop.

And that reminds me that I need to restock my Earl Grey. Lipton Yellow Label is only that nice. It gets really boring.
I don't know if I'm adventurous enough to go for chai, (milk tea with spices like cinnamon, peppercorn, star aniseed), but I'm craving for Earl Grey.

Now let's hope all the caffeine doesn't kill me.

And by the way, I think Jocie's (that silly cartoon singer with the mice loving rice song) rendition of the Chinese version of Numa-Numa (which she titled some other thing) totally irritates me out of my boots. I still prefer the original version.

Wants

2005-11-12T19:03:00.000+08:00

I want someone to tell me why the ingredients list of Meiji's YanYan (biscuit sticks with dipping chocolate) and Hup Seng's wheat cracker is in French.

I want $4000 so that I can go on the 3-week immersion to France next May.

I want to level up on Maple and be a cleric.

I want all advertising for Harry Potter and the GoF to disappear because it makes me nervous and it stabs my heart.

I want boast about the 39/50 I got for my Theatre review. (But obviously there were people who did better than that.)

I want to fall in love ~~for the first time~~.

I want a shoulder to cry on.

I want YOU.

A Short Ramble

2005-11-11T11:44:00.000+08:00

I just have to get this off my chest- I have never heard anyone say fuck nicer than this particular variant I heard today. It was that he was unnaturally fluent (perhaps I never expected him to say such a word. Or at least swear) and the tinge of nonchalance that captivates me. Ok, it wasn't in blatant cursing that I heard the utterance, so maybe that's why it sounds so... clinical. Yeah, maybe that's the word to describe the feel of that particular utterance. You know, like the usual guy in our crowd says fuck you in this completely aloof manner like the words don't mean anything. Right, it doesn't have to hold a literal meaning, but swearing without considering the implications and subtext of the particular word in use is just plain uncultured.

So yeah. Perhaps a critical discourse of American Buffalo might just shed light on how to use the word fuck properly.

Curveballs

2005-11-11T00:13:00.000+08:00

Life's apt at throwing curveballs.
I don't exactly remember how long ago, but I do know some time I ago, I wanted to be an English Language major. I should think that it's even earlier than the the whole entire European Studies fiasco. And then I sorta switched, made a few detours bumping around the humanities exposure modules, considered being a Theatre major, considered being an European Studies major... and now, I'm back to where I started. It's almost quite confirmed that I'll be declaring English Language as my major at the end of this year.

Life's THIS queer, isn't it?

And now it's back to trying to get at my revision. Don't want to fail finals, you know.

Jittery

2005-11-10T22:24:00.000+08:00

I really wished all the Harry Potter advertising and exposures will just stop. They are making me nervous and jittery. It's like, part of me is so afraid that all these hoo-hahs are really just hoo-hahs, and nothing much. And I don't know why, I'll feeling very odd. It's like I hate it and love it at the same time. I do believe this is the first stage of going bonkers.

That aside, I'm so happy today. Thanks to JieSi who recommended me a good program that changes my Windows XP theme and skins to the Mac OS. Yes, and it comes complete with icons, sound effects and the much sought-after docking bar with the bouncing icons. So cute!

So now my desktop (or rather, dashboard) is so pretty. :)

C'est Fini

2005-11-09T22:40:00.000+08:00

It's finally over- the ruddy sodding simulation that has tormented my every living cell and my every moment alive is finally over. Albeit a pathetic one, I am glad it's over.

And so is my French finals. Which I so totally screwed up.

But no matter. Now I can start to study. Eh, I mean, I have 2 less excuses to not start revising for exams. (dang.)

A Lot of Tosh, Really

2005-11-08T11:21:00.000+08:00

As I sit here at my favourite haunt in school- the Central Library- and look out of the window, I see...

A lousy view of a side of a building undergoing paintwork, hence wooden framework erected around it. If I crane my neck and look to the right, well, I see a park/garden with big big trees. That's more like a view I'd like to see. Paintwork lattice is just not the sort of view that can stimulate me in writing a novel, I'll have you know.

It's about another 16 days to my first and favourite paper- English language. A pity that it's going to slip by me so quickly. And it's 22 days to the killers- Europe history and Theatre Studies on the same day. Oh well. Life stinks, and we have to be constantly reaffirmed of it.

At least after tomorrow, I can get down to serious studying. Let me get the ~~blardy~~ simulation over and done with, and go take my FINAL French test.

Hopefully amidst the rehearsals for my final Theatre practical, I can find time to do my revision. Shall start making caffeine my best friend, and appreciate the art of doing late-night studying, and bathe myself in the world of Napoleon, Bismarck, Hitler, Mussolini and Stalin and all other ~~great~~ men who has changed our lives, and let myself get caught in a Tempest, play in A Doll's House and admire their Bluest Eye, try to create a Brave New World where The Sun Also Rises. Then I'll subscribe to Aristotle's 3 Unities, Brecht's defamiliarization and ~~master the 5 positions of female subjugation~~. And omit determinants and pronouns in writing henceforth.

Impossible to not use determinants and pronouns, or at least will be really difficult and sound like a strain.

And now it's back to je ne me suis pas levée tard.
MAPLEMAPLEMAPLEMAPLE.

And I'm hungry. Hurmph.

Bah....

2005-11-07T17:02:00.000+08:00

Deception, deception...
J'ai une B- pour mon fou essay en "The Sun Also Rises". Je suis trés malheureuse.

Then again. C'est nest pas rien. C'est la vie. (And it really looks as though I'm running out of French phrases.)

Oh well. I will survive. I'm better at my impromptu blabber when it comes to exams. And it's not like I've expected alot out of my Elit module.

Right. Self-deception. And this time in English.

Urges

2005-11-06T20:44:00.000+08:00

Have a sudden urge to spend $10.50 buying a MapleStory top-up card so that I can buy a pet cat as a companion hunter (that would cost about $8 in real money), which lasts for 90 days.

Have a sudden urge to watch Oliver Twist (because I so like London in that era. Though I would not want to live there.)

Have a sudden urge to buy one of those vintage Mickey shirts from the M Industries.

Have a sudden urge to buy that pair of suede boots from URS (despite sweltering hot weather in Singapore).

Have a sudden urge to buy First magazine (really, Dan Radcliffe is the only thing that is stopping me from becoming a full-fledge Harry Potter fan for both books and movies.)

Have a sudden urge to eat dark chocolate gelato from Bravassimo (ignore the spelling) at the basement food street of Takashimaya.

Why do all my urges involve spending money? Because this is a materialistic world.
And my procrastination problem is so grave it scares me.

And I finally establish that I love learning but I hate schools and exams. Or have I mentioned that before?

I'm starting to learn the joys of MMORPG. Though WoW is still too expensive for me. (Don't mind the gaming lingo. If you don't understand, ignore me.)

Sleepy

2005-11-04T21:02:00.000+08:00

Am feeling rather sleepy.
And a sudden urge to go eat at The French Stall at Serangoon Road. It's veddy cheap for French food, but I heard it's not authentic enough.
Pay a little more for the set lunch at Aioli in Boon Tat street or Le Petit Salut at Holland V.
Hmm. Should go after exams.

I'm going to sleep. I'm ok, really. It's like what Brecht does, defamiliarization. I'm taken away from the conventional.

Gratitude

2005-11-03T19:11:00.000+08:00

I suppose I have to thank YOU for everything. Words alone can't express the gratitude in me towards all you have done towards ruining my life. And also teaching me how to be an adult. How when you are an adult you don't have to fucking care about others' feelings when you speak words that hurt people the most.

And to the other YOU. I'm not even asking you to treat me well. I just want you to treat me fairly. But I guess that's asking too much, isn't it? Life itself is unfair, so there's no particular reason why I should be treated fairly. And I also have to thank you for being frank with me today. By telling me that you are taking it all out on me. That's the second thing I learnt about adulthood today. It's all right to take you anger out on someone else (preferably a younger person) just because you are equally hurt (by someone else). It all boils down to the 1st lesson really- we don't have to give a fucking damn about others' feelings.

And another lesson bestowed upon me is the enforcement of "forgive and forget". And for the bleeding 45389434th time I'm repeating this - I fucking do not "forgive and forget". If shit is worth forgetting, it doesn't require any forgiving in the first place. I admit I'm a vengeful creature- I remember every single wrong that has even been done upon me. But fuck, I am mortal i.e. I am marginally capable of having emotions and love. And love certainly isn't something that goes with révanche.

I suppose words of gratitude are not enough. I suppose giving up my measly life would appease whatever forces that are out there to get me?

Grrrrr.

A word of caution to the YOU: Squeezing a balloon from both sides will burst the balloon.

Modern Dance For Beginners

2005-11-02T22:35:00.000+08:00

A comedy starring Beatrice Chia and Mark Waite. Written by Sarah Phelps, directed by Samantha Scott-Blackhall.

This is the second time I'm watching a production at the DBS Arts Centre (home of the Singapore Repetoire Theatre.) I recall the last time I was there- only 17 years old and trying to sneak into an R(A)-18 performance. Today is different though; I can watch the similarly R(A)-18 production legitimately.

As comedies go, I don't really think this one was THAT funny. I still preferred "Rumours". But 'tis all right, really admire their guts of being able to disrobe and change onstage. The sexual connotations and innuendos were all right, we're a liberal society, aye? My favourite part is still the lousy pick-up lines at the bar. It was so dumb it was funny.

This is obviously not the sort of performance I can do a review based on misc-en-scene, so I think I've got to catch one more performance before my TS exam so that I have something to write about. Can't just muck around with Modern Dance For Beginners and Animal Vegetable Mineral under my belt.

Bof! C'est ton vie! C'est ton bonheur! Et maintenant, peux-je continuer avec MON vie?

Fate

2005-11-01T08:25:00.000+08:00

When we say "in the hands of fate..." we are personifying Fate to be a human figure, more or less, aren't we?
It's interesting to note, though, Fate was never a Greek god or whatsoever. In fact, the Greek gods had to obey him as well.
So why the expression "in the hands of fate" then? Why can't it be in the ass of fate or some other anatomy? Considering fate is usually the one that screws our life up. Oh wait a minute, if Fate screws us up, so that means Fate is up our ass? Sheesh.
Oh, maybe that's why it's somewhat more of a consolation to be "in the hands of fate" (than knowing he/she/it is going to be do some naughty things to you afterwards).

And funny, why do we always use fate for a negative connotation and destiny for a positive one? (Or am I the only one?) It's like, you're fated to die at a particular time yet it is your destiny to lead the people? Then again, I don't think we use destiny as much nowadays. You don't really see me going round and saying "let's see if we're destined to meet this afternoon". I would use fated in that case. But then, doesn't it mean I don't feel that we'll meet so I use fated ? Like, "we'll meet again if we're fated to". So, are we destined to meet The One or fated to meet him/her?

Bah. I'm rambling.

Déception and Spelling

2005-10-30T20:39:00.000+08:00

Alas, another faux-amis (i.e. words in French that resembles words in English but have different meanings).
Déception definitely doesn't mean I'm deceiving or deceitful. I'm just trying to say that I'm disappointed.
I reckon there is nothing more disheartening and demoralising than having clocked 10km mileage in a week but not lose an ounce on the weighing scale. (On the contrary, it's +2 pounds) This is completely unacceptable.

And I realize I've been spotting these bizarre "I spell the way I pronounce" amongst people's writings. I guess one commonly misspelled (from my observation) is DEADLINE. It seems to me people like to spell DATELINE alot (Though this is not commonly a case of mispronunciation). And we wonder why they don't seem to be able to meet the scheduled completion date. I guess I have to admit that this mistake is almost grotesque and unnerving. It's almost like misspelling your own name.

And then there's the pronunciation and intonation problem. How disgusted I felt when I realized I've been mispronouncing Himalayas (supposed to be hee-ma-lee-yas, not hee-ma-lay-ears) and my utterly Singlish way of intonation character (Though JieSi feels that stressing the 2nd syllable instead of the 1st makes it seem like a faux-British accent.)

Oh well. At least my abysmal spelling and pronunciation is much better than a big portion of my peers. At least I can spell separate and occasion and perseverance and whatnots correctly without batting an eyelid.

[Edit on 31/10/2005: Another blow to my already massively deflated ego- I misspelled "pronunication". No wonder I had the nagging feeling at the back of my head that it shouldn't be "pronounciation" but I was too lazy to check it out. As the French say, "elle a poil dans la main" (she has hair in her palm, i.e. she does nothing/she is a lazy person) So next time remember to check out my palm when you give me a handshake. ]

Random Blabber 14

2005-10-29T23:35:00.000+08:00

I'm having a hard time trying to get down to serious studying. I've been gallivanting my days away, basically lazing around and binging.
Have been taking stock of what I need to cover for exams, and it's doesn't seem that bad to me. First I need to gather my notes for Euro History. Then I need to memorise a whole chunk of material for Theatre Studies. Then I need to refamiliarize myself with the 5 Literature texts. And then a final run through of my English. French is covered for, only one more written test and one more oral. No finals.

Alas, I'm painting a real rosy picture for myself, to placate the endless sense of guilt, I suppose.

Je souhaite je peux être ta "inamorata". Mais je sais aussi ce n'est pas possible.

Surrealism

2005-10-28T18:12:00.000+08:00

Isn't it so surreal, when you step into an LT at an unearthly hour in the morning (8am) and wearing a hooded pullover (perfectly warm and fuzzy to deter the Arctic temperatures of an early morning bus ride) and your lecturer says "today is our last lecture"?

And then you go to French lecture and the lecture says the same thing, "Unite 6 est le dernier unite". So I guess that is the final alarm to signify "it's time to get down to serious studying!" And not forgetting one last project due on 9th November and a final theatre practical exam on 15/16th Nov. I guess that would be my very last encounter with Theatre Studies in NUS. I will not major in it. No. It's really not my thing.

And I was thinking... some people are such hedonists. I'm the exact opposite. I'm a masochist. I seem to derive a real lot of fun in torturing myself. Today is the Nth time in this month when I've stopped myself from buying something I really really like. And I've made this hideous promise to myself- I would deny myself anything Harry Potter. It takes guts, especially when the movie is on 17th November. It's a tradeoff, really, this decision. I don't know why I'm doing it. Just like I don't know what's stopping me from buying a copy of the paperback edition of Jonathan Strange And Mr. Norrell (I've waited almost a year for this cheaper edition? Only at $19.95!) And I don't know what's stopping me from buying one of the feathery fan from Accessorize (All right, tell me all about functionality and practicality). So the bottomline is, I'm a masochist.

Hemingway

2005-10-27T11:22:00.000+08:00

I know I hemed my way through my Hemingway essay.
And concluding with a ~~lame~~ quotation from the novelist himself, "There is no one thing that is true. It is all true". A last attempt in convincing BT that my essay is worth at least a B because everything is true and therefore you should not condemn? I hope he's happy that I'm challenging the norm by writing totally off point. The sheer courage should warrant some merit, ya think?

My insane obsession with war that my entire essay is about the first world war. I'm beginning to think whether I'm writing an Elit essay or a history essay. I know that Hemingway was an ambulance driver during the war, could driving the mortally wounded have horrified him so much he just had to allude to the war using obscure incidences? I guess that I'm reading too much into things. Come on, a woman who plays around with men is a metaphor the League of Nations? I must have been crazy!

Alas, my job is done. 1041 words. One morning. I'm happy. But still has to nitpick my grammar a little before I print it out using Comics Sans font size 12 on pretty pink scented paper and binded with a pink ribbon with frills.

No. Kidding. The same boring white 70gsm paper with Times New Roman font size 12 and stapled on the top left hand corner. Must make sure margins are nice the words are 1.5x spaced. He seemed quite happy with such alignment the previous time.

Gee. A couple of hours (and I do mean a couple ->2) before I leave for school. Must go work on English tutorial now. And I'm suddenly panicking about finals. Only 1 month away. Sheesh.

Deadline?

2005-10-25T21:28:00.000+08:00

C'est mardi, aujourd'hui.
(It's Tuesday today.)

And the deadline for my 1000-word essay is this coming Friday. And guess what? I have yet to settle on the question to write.
I mean, it's really queer. I could have picked question 2 and done it in say 2 hours. But no, I must trouble myself and try my hand and question 1 and 3 just because I know a bulk of people will be doing question 2. Can any psychology students explain this ... phenomenon to me? I'm still stuck here, I can't seem to organize my thoughts well for Hemingway or Huxley. -pouts-
And not forgetting I have a quiz tomorrow. And I've got to go for the dreaded history tutorial. I've come to realize I loathe history tutorials.

And I'm considering the prospect of directing Thunderstorm for the final TS practical. Well, that's if the rest want to do Thunderstorm. Oh yes, Thunderstorm = lei2 yu3. -grins- Melodrama seems to be my kind of thing. Lots of crying and fighting and unintended incestuous relationships (when this old woman will come up to you and tell you that the girl you've been shagging is actually your half-sister) yaddayadda. Then again, I don't mind doing anything else if someone else is directing. And I so want to build the mini-set for stage design. It seems fun.

Alas, I keep digressing and doing all things instead of working on my essay. Someone save me.

Oh, by the way, is it purely coincidental that to sit in French is s'ASSeoir?
Hmm. I gues it is. Oh well.

And one more thing, whose handphone number is 97956237? I'm sorry if some random prankster picks up your number from my blog- it's what you deserve for calling me at the most untimely junctures and when I miss you calls and subsequently SMS you to ask you who you are, you ignore me. Please, if you are the owner of the phone number, or a friend of this miserable sod, respond. This is not the first time this has happened. And I wonder where on earth you got my number from.

You Jump, I Jump

2005-10-23T17:25:00.000+08:00

We all remember that ~~cheesy~~ line from the famous Titanic movie. And I still recall that was the year our hormones kicked in- 1998 (or was it 1997?) when the boys, and girls alike, would clamour for an uncensored version of the painting scene. Oh well.

Anyway, I bought a jumper dress/jumpsuit/dangarees/overalls today. I do not know what it is called. See, a jumper in British English would mean a long-sleeved pullover, so jumper dress seems like a paradox. Yet in the US, I suppose they call it a jumper, just that mine is with the skirts and not the trousers. And it's not really a jumpsuit because a jumpsuit has sleeves and some form of collar and zips all the way to the neck. And dangerees obviously have trousers, and as I mentioned, mine is a skirt version. Overalls in the US should mean something like dangerees. I'm seriously lost. Hence I should post a photo. (And in Google-ing for a photo, I realized it's usually worn by children. Yeep.)

It's something similar, obviously without embroidery of the colourful pictures and borders. And no silly square pocket mid-thigh. Ah, wearing such a thing makes me look 16, not 19. Tell me I'll be the only person in FASS to don such ... strange garment and I'll be happy. A note though- I will not wear it with a T-shirt if you're wondering. I'm going starkers under it.

Right. I am no whore. Will team it with nice sleeveless tops i.e. I need a trip to Topshop to bag more plain tops before the Autumn sale ends. -grin grin- Although have not shown Mother the loot. Think might effect lots of laughter.

Blog Tag

2005-10-21T22:12:00.000+08:00

BLOG TAG
Instructions of the tag: Given a topic, you are to write down your answers in your blog, and then send the same topic to 5 other people. Write down the names of these 5 people and link to them on your blog. Go visit their blogs to notify them that they are tagged. The 5 people who are tagged should, in their own blogs, write down the name and the link of the person who tagged them, answer the same topic, and send it to another 5 people, etc.

Tagged by: Weiqin
The topic: Your 5 (really anal) Quirks!

1. I cannot stand the hardcore, orthodox Singlish (complete with the moronic typing style. Must be spasm of the finger that is usually on the shift key). For example: wAh! 2daY I gO sEe tHE dOc wIf mi fRen. (Ok, I admit it, I cannot form a single sentence of Singlish. I can almost see Mrs. Singh nodding her head in agreement.)

2. I only eat Fuji apple (ok, they can be from China). I do not eat Royal Gala or any other varieties.

3. I will not pronounce allantois as "eh-len-too-is" but "ah-larn-twah". (Although the former is the correct one, I still prefer my version of it.) Same goes for "foe pa" for faux pas and the correct intonation of Japanese . I tend to scorn any other pronounciation.

4. I cannot stand someone staring into my eyes. It gets on my nerves. Yeah, I have fleeting focal point, i.e. I am a liar. (Any smart discerning reader will recognise this as what the linguists call "liar's paradox", because if I'm telling the truth that I'm a liar, I'm not really a liar? And if I'm lying about me being a liar, so am I a liar or not?)

5. Beach boys turn me OFF. I'm beginning to think I'm asexual.

The following people have been chosen to partake in this game:
1. Weizhen
2. Dhana
3. Ohm
4. Celina (aiyoh, if she's free enough to see this... I should most probably slaughter her.)
5. Val (Same case as above. Although I'll let loose on the slaughter part.)

I guess why I have problems coming up with 5 links is because I'm too voyeuristic for my own good i.e. I read alot of people's blogs in secrecy. You know, like friends you haven't really been talking to, or people you are not really close too but you read their blogs anyway because it's seemingly entertaining. So I can't possibly tag them to inform them that I'm reading their blog and invariably leaking my own blog address out, right?

Oh well. I'm performing a dare here, to put "voyeur" and "sex" and "XXX" in the same sentence and see if I'll get many hits for it. Then again, a better combination will be "singapore", "girls", "nude blog".

Rare Jubilation

2005-10-20T19:45:00.000+08:00

Let me take a moment to smirk- a justified one at that. I did get 29 out of 30 for my English quiz.
I know, I know, it's a multiple choice test... but when it's negative marking and each option can cost up to 3 marks, it's no joke.

Anyway, I'm so inspired by Prof. Turner's office! It's the typical Elit professor's room- at least 3 walls filled with books. And at last count, he seems to know French, German, Latin, Greek (seriously, who on earth can pronounce a symbol of thithe?) and what, Norwegian? Who knows what other obscure languages he knows. I won't be surprised if you told me he comprehends Elvish. So yes, back to the me being inspired part. I want a room like that too! I know I definitely want alot of book storage space. And oh yes, he has this small persian rug at the foot of his bookshelves and it seems like a good alternative to carpeting the whole room. Should consider something like that for my future room.

I really need to brush up my writing skills. I refuse to let bad expressions pull my grades down again.

Arh, and yes. I'm so happy Euro history is open book. And there I was fretting on which topics to spot to memorise. Alas, open book but not in bound form. Only prepared notes and loose paper. And for once I'm feeling a little less insecure about it. But let's cross the simulation hurdle first. Group members seem... lethargic. Is that the word? Well, you get what I mean.

All in all, today seemed to have been a good day.

Because Of You

2005-10-18T19:56:00.000+08:00

I seem to keep hearing this song on radio- Because Of You by Kelly Clarkson. I initially brushed it off as a heartbreak song, but looking at the lyrics, it's far more than that. In fact I don't even think it's a heartbreak song.

Il a dit tout de je veux dis.

And this is a short post because it serves as a mind-jogger for me. I have such highly scattered brain I guess I can forget what's my name.

Chestnuts 2005

2005-10-16T15:44:00.000+08:00

Nothing cheers me more that knowing Chestnuts 2005 is back.
Check it out here.
My favourite stage personality (Hossan Leong, duh) is back with Jonathan Lim for yet another instalment of Chestnuts! I will definitely be catching at least one show or more (will be placing my ticket orders a.s.a.p before 31 October for early bird discounts). Anyone wants to join me? I can guarantee that it'll be hilarious, if not money back. Seriously! I waited one whole year for this! And I'm mighty glad it's at the Jubilee Hall again (not the DBS theatre- such an inaccessible place). Arh, warning though, this show is R(18). Get what I mean? Lots of queer jokes, mentions of certain parts of the anatomy and certain acts of pleasuring... Oh well, what else do you expect to be my favourite stage performance?

So, yes, if you are interested, please contact me before 21st October (I want to secure good seats, see.) Oh yes, I'll be buying the $48 seat (see, after 15% disc. it's $40) for most likely 7th or 8th Dec or 10th, 11th Dec matinees. So, just gimme a ring or something. This is really blardy good. I can guarantee with my life.

And I wonder if they'll close the show with "Without Me" again...

A part of me worries that I might not be able to attend. Fuck.

Animal Vegetable MIneral

2005-10-15T23:33:00.001+08:00

Note: Review for academic purposes will be posted after 21st October. (Lest the fiends filch my review and submit it as their own.)

"Expectations. Keep them in check. If you reach the end and find nothing there, remember to come back."
Another plot on escapism, isn't it? The Modern Man and his need to "find his voice", and the escape from reality. Can I say it's an overused plot? Can I say it's overrated, this assumption of everyone being able to desert all their beliefs and their comfort zone to be in search of something so intangible, without the slightest guarantee that it even exists? I don't think everyone can and will want to uproot everything they own and believe when the time comes.

It's just like believing in soulmates, isn't it? Sure, I would most definitely like to believe in soulmates, but the thing is, this belief is empty, it has no value tagged to it. There's no accountability involved; it's just a choice. There's no proof whatsoever, hence, I suppose it's understandable if I cannot submit fully to this belief- I might have traded in everything for nothing in the end.

And somehow as I ramble on, I have this nagging thought in my head. I just have to say it out- my happiness and future seems to be like Godot. Brecht's Godot, to be exact. Theatre students would know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, back to the production. I guess it was not bad, though the style doesn't really agree with me. I realized I'm a very realist-play sort of person; grossly abstract metaphors don't mean a thing, except shout out loudly, "POSER!" I'm not insulting anyone or anything here- it's purely my personal preference.

A more detailed review to come after 21st October, after I submit my copy for grading.

How long do I have to wait, before I can make plans and promises that extends beyond a week, and actually keep them?

Tomber Amoureux

2005-10-14T17:27:00.000+08:00

What is the first impression you get when you see that phrase? Some thing to do with tombs and love? (Assuming you recognize that "amour" has something to do with love) Maybe you might transcribe it into something more refined/complex like "till death do us part"? If you think that way, you're not that far off. It actually means "to fall in love". Somehow this is one phrase in French that I don't think is as romantic as it should be.

And today we finally, with heaven's grace, learn the pass tense. So now I can say, "j'ai tombé amoureux avec vous" (I have fallen in love with you). And ah-ha, la sensation de déjâ-vu.

It seems that I've screwed up my EL test big time. How?

Le théatre production "Animal Vegetable Mineral" à demain du soir.

Outdoors

2005-10-13T21:09:00.000+08:00

I don't presume that you would consider me the outdoor-y sort of person, given that I look every bit like a born couch potato. Yet in looking at the "Upcoming Events" of the NUS clubs, I'm suddenly tempted to go take part the outdoor activities. First there is the 1 Star kayak course by the canoe club (this Saturday or 22/10/2005), then there's the ODAC trips in December. There's this particular Gunung Datuk trip that I'm interested in, just don't know if it's suitable for total begginners (or rather, slobberworms like yours truly). And then there's the Sister's Island Kayak Expedition that seems fun too. (See why I want to go get my 1-star kayak qualifications?)

I wonder if this is just one of my fickle-minded decisions. I mean, I could get to like the outdoors, right? I remember saying to someone that I actually want to go climb Mount Fuji someday (although costs a bomb to go to Japan). I seem to think it's quite fun to trek, if not for mosquitoes and bugs and other unknown creatures. At this point, it would be interesting/bizarre to note that a totally unrelated piece of information appeared in my head- the "and"s in the previous sentence is a coordinating conjunction. Must be too hyped up about the EL test tomorrow. Dang.

Effort

2005-10-12T21:29:00.000+08:00

Is there a physics equation out there that says effort = something? From my abysmal memory of O level Physics, there's work done = force x distance and whatnot... but nothing surfaces when it comes to effort. Or maybe I just have bad memory.

Anyway, I just feel that I have to get this off my chest. I was adamant not to blog another melancholic post (and hence my previous blabber about school work) but sorry, can't help myself here. (Oh yes, I'm thinking of getting a T-shirt that says 'I used to be schizophrenic, but now we're okay.')

It kinda just dawned upon me that we all put in effort for different things. Or rather, some of us just find it fucking difficult to put in effort for some things. Take for example, me. I find it a nag to have to put in effort for my studies, but have no qualms about acting and telling lies (hey, it's an intricate art to be able to lie through your teeth and requires much effort!) Just like some people cannot put in the effort to find time to learn something new but have no problems when it comes to fighting for more money. So the bottomline is, people all have different judgement of the worth of a certain activity and will then determine the amount of effort put in accordingly. Don't you agree with such a hypothesis?

If you do, can we then postulate that the amount of effort put forth is therefore a reflection of the value of the certain activity in this particular person's eyes? I guess that this should make sense. Maybe in thinking so I feel better. Like a faux optimism (or rather, a faux understanding) of situations. Each one of us individuals have different set of values and opinions, and consequentially we judge and value things differently. So we shouldn't judge someone else's actions based on our own set of scales. Besides, THEY are mere mortals, right? I mean, it's ONLY normal of them to fall short of the ideal state, and have shortfalls. (There I go, tautology again.) To put it simply, TOO BAD if you're not perfect. It shouldn't bother me.

Some things are like irreversible chemical reactions (think decomposition of sugar). No matter how much effort is being put in, you will never turn caramel back to fine sugar. (I must still be thinking about the creme brulee. And I don't know what this analogy is getting at. My chain of thought was evidently broken. Humrph.)

Affairs De Cours

2005-10-12T17:54:00.000+08:00

Probably we should start with the good news: I got my first A in NUS. Albeit for a subject I know I will definitely not major in- English Literature. Shocked, aye? Who would have thought I could get an A for an essay. Well, it's not a full-length essay, just a 30-min in-class "prose response question" (it's something like the last section of our GP paper, whatisit? It seemed to have slipped my mind what's it called.) Alas, it's not sans awry remark. "You are at an essential paradox here " Oh well. Me and my ambivalence that gradually transforms into being paradoxical.

That aside, I'm worried about the tests and essays to come. An English test on Friday, French quiz on Friday (tell you, this is the first time I feel so insecure about French quiz), a production/performance review due on 21st October and a 1000-word essay for Elit due on 28th October. And there's still the simulation for Euro History (Oh, I'm playing USSR at the Potsdam Conference) and finally the performance we're meant to put up for Theatre (tell me it's not Twelfth Night please. I can't do Shakespeare for nuts.)

And it occurred to me that I'm usually very high-strung for Euro history tutorials. Maybe it's because it's a fortnightly 2-hour tutorial. And maybe because Coach makes it more like a lecture than a tutorial. Maybe because I'm afraid that I might appear stupid infront of him. Maybe it's because I have problems remembering and retaining huge chunks of information. Maybe it's the venue- a strange secluded classroom at AS1. Oh well, the point is, I'm just very stressed about EU tutorials, as opposed to English, where we have lots of fun during the tutorial. This reminds me, I haven't done the tutorial yet.

Oh yes, one more thing to mention. Just learnt in Elit tutorial that Hemmingway's style has a lot of tautology (Repeating the same things using different words). And somehow I think that's my style too. Like how I would always rephrase to further prove my point. Arh, do I see the making of the next Hemmingway? (Opps. I guess not. And established writer can use tautology, but tautology doesn't make you a good writer. Just suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder.)

Limits

2005-10-11T17:52:00.000+08:00

It never ceases to amaze me how the human limits can be pushed. How I wish I could convince myself that I don't HAVE TO provide this unconditional understanding, and that I don't HAVE TO watch people's feelings at the expense of my own. Perhaps I'm too kind- a trait well-received and cherished but has little practical value. But the irony is, I'm not kind to myself at all. I can't even allow myself to use material goods to make up for my emotional turmoil. I talked myself out of buying things for myself to cheer myself up. Is this fair?

And I'm really beginning to enjoy long bus rides. I'm starting to think that it's a good time to think and do some soul-searching, albeit disturbances by noisy imbecilic students from XX secondary school. And on my long bus ride on bus No. 10 this morning, I was thinking about certain things, and was totally prepared emotionally to weep for my scene at TS practical. And perhaps shock the rest of the class to death. Alas, the human limitation was pushed- I did not weep a single tear. I have evolved to be more resilient, I guess. And the nonchalance came easy- does this mean something? Does this mean I've become aloof?

And again, my limitation was tested when the particular someone I mentioned in a previous post approached me, totally unaware of the gravity of the situation (as always, I guess.) I actually entertained you. I actually attempted a civilized conversation over MSN. But, it's not right, isn't it? It's utterly unfair of you to mention that you're sad THAT I'm miserable. Like it's my fault you're upset. Yes, as I expected. As always. Some things never change. How I wish I could pour it all out to you... but I can't.

I guess I should act nonchalant about it all. Perhaps I should really be nonchalant about it all. Approach all these in a blithe manner, like I was watching a movie. Or having a nightmare and pray that someday I will actually wake up. And I wished I can really throw the towel and give up, but I know I won't be able to live it down.

So long the last breath resides within me, I promise to at least hesitate before being oblivious to someone else's feelings.

To Peche Or Not To Peche

2005-10-10T12:23:00.000+08:00

That is always the question, isn't it? Be it pécher, which means to fish, or pêcher, which means to sin.

I've never fished in my life, and reading about Jake's fishing experience in The Sun Also Rises, and watching a fishing programme on TV yesterday makes me want to go down to some stream in Tasmania to fish for salmon, or the cods off the shores of Norway. And if I should venture into the open sea, I can most probably sight pods of killer whales gallivanting about. Hmm, I have a sudden craving for fish now. Maybe a dory or grouper, doesn't matter. So long it's not a freshwater fish like tilapia. Unless it's sauteed (can you sauté fish?) in butter with chives and slathered with a thick layer of coriander Fish & Co. style. And I'm similarly game for some fish and chips, and three new places I want to try- Fishermen's Wharf en face Clarke Quay MRT, this shop at Far East Plaza (that sells fried Mars bars in fish and chip batter! Instant carbo high!) and a stall at Takashimaya food bazaar that serves the food on paper, British style.

Talking about cravings, I have a sudden craving for soups. Like Chinese herbal soups. Ok, maybe not so herbal that's a black emulsion of unknown substances, but clear, light things like ginseng chicken. And it just occurred to me I'll never go for a buffet again. Bouffer (which is pronounced the same way as buffet (that assuming you pronounce it boo-fay and not baf-fat or other equally atrocious forms). And guess what bouffer means? It means eat, no doubt, but more along the lines of gorging and binging like a PIG. Yes, a PIG. Le cochon ne mange pas, le cochon bouffe. (The pig does not eat, the pig gorges.) So, just thinking of the word buffet alone repulses me.

It seems to me that eating is gratifying. Maybe it's me under stress- I want to whisk myself off my seat now and go eat seafood pasta at Gusto's. I've been thinking of scallops since the food programme yesterday. For a person who doesn't eat molluscs, scallop is probably the only exception. And I'm craving desserts like tiramisu (but I have yet to find one that I concur with. Maybe I have too high a standard for tiramisus, or perhaps the wrong perception of how it should be like.) And créme brulée! Ever since watching Amélie and how she likes to crack the créme brulée with a spoon, I've been looking out for similar authentic ones in Singapore. It seems to me that they are always soft on top, not hard like it should be. Then again, I don't think I'd like créme brulée- I'm hardly a fan of burnt sugar. Yes, I hate things like caramel. And I'm not a big fan of custard either. So yeah, I will not eat the créme brulée, but can I crack yours with a spoon when you eat it?

All this talk about food makes me hungry.
Well, at least it takes my mind off things. So does reading articles about the first world war.

Emmenez moi, sil vous plait.

Epoch Shift

2005-10-08T22:15:00.000+08:00

Whatever's happened is definitely epoch shifting. It's not my place to put things down explicitly in words, but I guess it's safe to purge some feelings. So don't mind me random blabbering henceforth- you have every right to hit the little "x" at the top right hand corner. And if you are particularly pissy now, or just have a general distaste for angst and/or sarcasm, I suggest you kill this window too.

I never got the definition of catharsis right in TS quiz (and not for erwhatungshorizont, but that's no matter. It's German). My perception of catharsis is right, something along the lines of "purging of emotions of fear and ____", but somehow when the question came I actually wrote "purging of temptations of sins." Oh well, I guess I mixed it up with spiritual cleansing of some sort. Aristotle would definitely not be pleased. At least I got gesamkuntswerk correct. That must count for something.

KL I'm sorry for not being to meet you and Cel. I'm sure you'll understand. Really. I'm not usually understanding for nothing. I actually expect some respect in return in general. Or maybe if people feel that I'm not understanding enough in my daily life, I guess I apologize for my inability to live up to your humble expectations of a fellow homo sapien. That's if people see me as a fellow human being, or rather, if they don't see themselves as some being of higher order.
And I'm not even going to make a snide comment about my implicit trust in people. I always thought I never let down the fort that guards me, but I've come to realise that I most probably did not have one erected in the first place. And I've finally come to terms with people's perception about me- if they can't understand or appreciate my melancholic nature, so be it. They will be nothing more than just empty beings to me.
And to this particular someone out there, (who doesn't read my blog, not even to find out what happened when I get out-of-touch) I'm perhaps capable of having problems, you know. The fucking world doesn't revolve about you and your ego. In fact, sometimes I wish I can walk away from all your silly moppings and ask you to get on with life. But you know what? I can't, because I actually have a tiny morsel of kindness in me. Yes, right, I have been kind and patient to you, and you're pushing the limits. Because I'm in some way a human being, a mere mortal, and hence have a heart of some sort, you are capable of making me feel guilty when I snap at you. Well, maybe you're right to make me feel that way, huh?
Maybe I have no right to snap at you, just like I have no innane rights to anything. I wasn't born with heaven's mandate to strut around. For fuck's sake, I don't even snap at you. I've never shouted at you. I merely speak in a less-than-sweet manner and you accuse me of being mean, like as though I'm all out to get you. Yeah, I'm the big bad wolf who DOESN'T pick up your bloody phone calls everytime you call to cry. And it's not even like I'm taking advantage of your kindness by calling you more than you call me. I don't even do that! Sometimes I just wish I can ask you to fuck off and leave me alone. Wait a minute. You do that. You do that disappearance thing everytime I give off hints of being pissy and return a few days later with a fucking nick that says "suffering from Wanni withdrawal symptoms". Yep, righto. My fault that you are SUFFERING.

I can foresee that I might be getting a tag or two to ask me "are you ok?" "Do you need to talk?" "Don't think so much..." "take care..." Bollocks. Or maybe there won't be any. Feigning ignorant and disappearance is the best way to deal with a peeved up banshee with a lashing tongue. Seriously, I don't give a damn. This post just serves as a mere notice as my temporary incapacity as a listening ear or a ranting partner or FAQ system. Other than that, adieu.

And oh yes, the abovementioned particular someone? If you ever come across this entry, please bare in mind that I shall not entertain any promises for a make-up or expression of ignorance. That's when you STOP blaming ME for making YOU feel so MISERABLE after reading this. And yes, after you betray me by telling your mummy dearest how Wanni hates you and let her harbour a totally bad impression about me.

The Myth

2005-10-08T16:23:00.000+08:00

This movie is worth every cent of the exorbitant $9.50. Great CGI, obivously a multi-million dollar production, good casting, good soundtrack (I'm even tempted to put the theme song here, but alas, the copyright law deters me.)

I have never been a Jackie Chan worshipper (not that I'm one now), but I can empathize why. His guts, for one thing. He's so foolishly brave that it can only be mirrored in someone like Harry Potter. And I can also understand why the female lead, Concubine Li fell for him. That heroic streak and the general feeling of being safe around him... it's almost inevitable that they fall in love. I particularly liked the fight scenes; makes me want to go learn horse-riding. And the Qin army looks impressive (CGI in some scenes, no doubt). I recall watching "The Making Of..." and Jackie Chan talked about his interpretation of the role as a Qin General, and how it's different from how others have done it. If you asked me, yeah. Never really encountered such a short general. Ah-ha, just kidding. There's no big differences, the same loyalty to the emperor, the same set-up by the chancellor who wants to seize the throne, the same-rank rivalry with others... but he wields the role well.

This is no touching love story though. Watch it for the effects and fight scene. The plot is so-so, quite predictable towards the end though. Nevertheless, it's a great show.

Potong La Plainsanterie

2005-10-08T07:46:00.000+08:00

(Note: Potong is Malay, whereas La Plainsanterie is French, meaning "the joke")

I refer to the Macdonald Couple joke as put forth by Kailin.
From a merry-maker point of view, sure, it's slightly funny, worth a chuckle or two (but definitely not warranting a guffaw.)
But from an aspiring English major point of view, the joke does not make sense. Why? Because it's techinically impossible to pronounce "teeth" properly without teeth.

The first t sound is known in IPA (International Phonetic Symbol) as voiceless alveolar plosive. And alveolar refers to the small little ridge at the back of your two front teeth. Sure, if teeth fall out, the alveolar ridge remains, the t sound is produced. The problem comes with th. I don't cover this in basic level lectures, but from what I know from experience, this sound is voiceless fricative dental i.e. involves the teeth. Try saying it and not touching your teeth? You'll either come up with the colloquail of a certain part of the human anatomy or something sounding like "tish".

Yep, the bottomline is, the old lady could not have said "teeth" if she's waiting for the dentures from the husband. And I've dissected the joke, rendering it unfunny, even silly. So what says only medical students get to dissect?

Stage Beauty

2005-10-06T20:19:00.000+08:00

Synopsis: Set in the 1660's at a time when in live theatre women's roles were played by men. Edward Kynaston is England's most celebrated leading lady, using his beauty and skill to make the great female roles his own. But when Charles II is tired of seeing the same old performers, the ruler allows real women to tread the boards and men may no longer play women's parts. Kynaston becomes a virtual nobody, virtually overnight and seems headed for suicide till his ex-dresser turned actress Maria takes it upon herself to make a man of him again.

Alas, I think the synopsis provided at the back of the VCD I own does the show no justice. What comes across to me a great plot, great costumes, great actors and actresses cannot be summated in a few words. First introduced to me during TS tutorial, my curiousity got so stoked I had to get the show to finish watching it.

Kynaston (played by Billy Crudup) isn't really exactly what I would consider a beautiful lady (though I have friends who think he's passable), but his actions and demeanour is actually pretty convincing. And yes, Kynaston is a gay who later turned heterosexual. (This wavering of sexuality rendered the show an M18 rating. Not that it actually contains alot of smut. Just some ass and boobs.) And I sort of love those costumes. The big elaborate skirts, the bodice and corset and some another 78833 articles of clothing and accessories... I guess I have mentioned this before, but I'll do it again: I want to wear one of those things!

Ah, yes, the show. Just makes me want to go and brush up my Shakespeare and do my iambic pentameters properly. Though I'm a realist playwright (can I? can I? Can I call myself a playwright?) but I seem to think we should all learn to do Shakespeare properly once in our life or so. I guess I can do without oddball dramatists like Brecht and Marinetti (who is known for selling the same seat to more than 1 member of the audience to create conflict. -right-). And talking about oddballs, it's quite funny to see an oddball king in the movie. Charles II is apparently this balding man who has a penchant for cross-dressing. And Sir Charles! A rolly polly man with paints his face white and carries boot black with him all the time. Oh well. I must be rattling too much.

It's a not-bad show, you should watch it. If not for the plot, at least for the entertainment value.

Creative Commons

2005-10-06T11:41:00.000+08:00

I've finally gotten a Creative Commons liscense to my blog as well as my NaNoWriMo publish site. So yep, do take note the next time you intend to filch something of mine off this site (or the other, for the matter). Yes, I'm aware that it's "some rights reserved", but apparently here's what they say:

Avec un contrat Creative Commons, vous conservez votre droit d'auteur tout en autorisant les autres à reproduire et distribuer votre création à la condition qu'ils citent votre nom et respectent les conditions que vous indiquez ici.

(Wanni's translation: With a Creative Commons contract, you preserve all your right as an author to authorize others should they want to reproduce and distribute your creation at the condition that they cite your name and repect the conditions that you indicate here.)

Alas, they have an English translation of the site, but nah-ah, I'm cool with French.

Oh well, so let's add the line "no part of this blog may be reproduced without my permission".

I have to do so primarily to protect my NaNoWriMo entry, lest some fiends scoot off with my work. Not that I have the slightest inkling as to what I'm going to write about, but I guess it's getting started. I vaguely recall reading in some handbook that the way to get yourself started is to convince yourself that this is actually the first draft, and it's always open to editings... and voila! Something gets churned out. Oh well, we'll see if that tip is actually useful.

NaNoWriMo 2005

2005-10-05T20:01:00.000+08:00

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is back!
I know it's a US thing, but the Internet has made it almost global.
Like last year, it will span from 1 Nov to 30 Nov, and the quota still stands at 50,000 words or more. Visit the official site here.
And since I have exams towards the end of November, I guess I should start preparation now. There's no actual prize involved, it's just a personal challenge, really. A novella of 50,000 words shouldn't be too difficult, right? I know I struck out last year (see, I knew it was more important to focus on A levels.) so this year, I aim be able to complete SOMETHING.
If I'm really able to accomplish this, at least I can hold more faith in becoming published someday.

Shrink

2005-10-04T21:02:00.000+08:00

Anyone knows of any good and cheap shrink?
Then again, it's a total irony to put cheap and shrink in the same sentence together. Just like the joke about the honest lawyer. Haven't heard it before? Here goes:

A little boy visited the graveyard with the grandmother and they passed by a headstone that says "here lies a lawyer and an honest man". Then the little boy questioned, "hm, how did they manage to squeeze in two people into the same grave?"

Jokes aside, I think anger management is what I need. If not for schedule clash, I would have signed up for the EQ workshop at the Central Library.

But I still think I need to see a shrink soon. Or can someone tell me if Prozac is sold over the counter in Singapore?

The Bluest Eye

2005-10-03T20:32:00.000+08:00

A novel by Toni Morrison.
Synopsis: The Bluest Eye is Toni Morrison's first novel, a book heralded for its richness of language and boldness of vision. Set in the author's girlhood hometown of Lorain, Ohio, it tells the story of black, eleven-year-old Pecola Breedlove. Pecola prays for her eyes to turn blue so that she will be as beautiful and beloved as all the blond, blue-eyed children in America. In the autumn of 1941, the year the marigold in the Breedlove's garden do not bloom, Pecola's life does change- in painful, devastating ways.

"You looked at them and wondered why they were so ugly; you looked closely and could not find the source. Then you realized that it came from conviction, their conviction." --Claudia in The Bluest Eye.

This is one of the 5 prescribed text for EL1101E, and seems to be the one I like the most, so far. (I've read 4 out of 5, and I don't think I'll enjoy Huxley's Brave New World). The abovementioned quote is somewhat true, something the Dove's CampaignForRealBeauty would have been proud of. That ugliness is self-imposed, and beauty stems from the heart. Oh well, there are people who subscribe to this belief, and those who don't. I'm ambivalent on this topic, I am selfish and self-assertive afterall.

And strangely, the book brings about this dawning upon me on my own identity and ethnicity. I will not deny the fact that I have, and sometimes still wish to be blonde and have blue eyes. (Or any other hair and eye colour other than black). I guess I will feel inferior should I be placed alongside with a Caucasian, as a matter of fact. I am not overly proud of my heritage as it seems. Explains why I always wanted to do French (or any other European languages) since I was 12. And also the fact that I prefer/adore all things angmoh- ranging from tortilla chips from M&S to overpriced jeans from Topshop to extremist views of all things Asian. (I guess I can't explicit state my hatred lest the censorship board slams me.) I'm not ashamed for feeling this way- heritage or whatsoever has no meaning to me.

The story is perversed in my views, and at the same time it's so real. Dismemberment of a doll because a child does not comprehend what made the blond hair-blue eyed doll the social norm of beautiful; the oppression of society is being transferred to families and subsequently to the weakest members of the household, who cannot conceive of a voice for themselves. The sacrifices people make for their families, for social status. In the chase for what is perceived to be "happiness", if not "happily ever after", one loses some part of oneself.

And one of the things I gained in lecture today- The Gaze. How identity is not only built upon our self appraisal, but also predominantly through how we see ourselves through others' eyes. How others perceive us influences how we see ourselves and how we shape ourselves.

Maybe this has been a cornerstone of how I perceive myself. Perhaps like Alicia in The Second Bedroom (my abysmal short play), I built my identity based on the various inputs I get from people around me. And maybe that is why when I meet someone who views me as a meer object of no greater importance than other beings/objects around me, I seize to exist for that moment of our acquaintance.

Adulthood

2005-10-01T13:08:00.000+08:00

I believe the greatest irony in life lies with our incessant wish to grow up quickly and then subsequently wanting to revert time.
That's precisely how I feel.
I recall being really happy about turning 16, then 18, and now 19. I claimed that adolescence is a torturously long process we could do without. I wanted to grow up quickly, to gain freedom and independence (after a while, I realised independence, like respect, is earned, not gained).

Now I don't think so anymore.
I want to go back to a few years ago. When I was happier. And At the same time, there are alot of things I want to change.

But it's impossible. And I know it.

Desensitized persona. Ambivalent interior.

You Were There

2005-09-30T15:57:00.000+08:00

You were there to applaude me when I first put on a staged performance. I vaguely recall you calming my nerves before I don my makeup, telling me you would be in the audience, and there's where I can look to if I got nervous.

You were the one to lend me your shoulder to cry on when I needed it. You sat there and kept quiet, knowing that I would only talk when I was ready. And we sat there for the longest time, allowing my tears to soak your shirt and your strong arms rub circles in my back to sooth my shiverings and seizures.

You were the one who taught me to rollerblade. And I felt the happiest as I linked hands with you and we skated down the tarmac path, basking in the sun and having a great afternoon at the beach. When I fell, you would always be the one to pick me up, and whisper sweet nothings to encourage me.

You were the one who appreciated my singing, despite me being tone-deaf. How we would lean on each other and spend a leisurely afternoon listening to a playlist of our favourite ballads. And you would sing them to me in your ever touching voice, and vouching your love for me with your life.

And today I realised you didn't exist. You were nothing but a figment of my imagination. I refused to believe that you do not exist. It hurts me to think that there was no one there to calm my nerves, to lend me a shoulder to cry on, to appreciate my singing, to sing to me... to love me. It was always me, myself and I.

Somehow, as I sat down at the table in a daze, it felt as though two people were missing, instead of one.

As you depart from my fantasies, you took away a part of me. The part that makes me feel, the part that gives me emotions, and the part that makes me love.

I don't know how to feel, what to feel and how to love anymore.

Bloggers' Death

2005-09-29T14:24:00.000+08:00

I point to one of my favourite jokes,

"Free speech isn't dead in the Soviet Union, only the speakers are."

So I guess in the same spirit,

"Uncensored blogs aren't dead in Singapore, only the bloggers are."

It's quite saddening to see fellow bloggers cringe in fear when faced with the possibility and threat of being slammed down. I guess, for a person who had her first misfortune with inappropriate internet material at the tender age of 13, we have nothing to fear.

I realized that it's all in the phrasing of your posts. Explicitly putting your ideas across is a no-no. Learnt the art of subtlety. If that doesn't work, let's use code words!

Like, I really hate kiwis. They are so hairy. And when rotten, they stink so much the whole bus would smell of it if you should bring it up the bus. We should all boycott kiwis. And I seriously think if kiwis had a voice, it would sound weird with an irritating un-decipher-able drawl.

I mean, there's nothing wrong with a statement as that, and technically, they can't slam us based on that. And besides, I REALLY hate kiwis. One drawback of such methods though, it's sort of laborious to try to find analogies that don't sound crazy.

Just my 2 cents' worth in keeping uncensored blogs alive. I will not relent.

Misery

2005-09-28T22:37:00.000+08:00

I need an activity to take my mind off things.
Perhaps I should start swimming again.
Or maybe I should start studying.

I need to clear my head, clear the air around me. The putrid smell of overdued explanations and lies are getting to me. The stress that keeps piling on is seizing me by my heart and squashing it into oblivion. The fear I live by everyday is slowing devouring me from inside, and all I can say is "carpe diem" for I don't hold much faith in tomorrows. The future seems so bleak it makes a three legged moose with a scorpion tail seem like a perfectly tangible entity.

And this time I'm sure I'm not JUST in one of those moods.

Perhaps those were dress rehearsal for the ultimate showdown.

"Life is like the dress rehearsal for the play we'll never get to put up".

Just leave me alone. I need some space. My OWN problems need space. They can use a lot of help if people stop heaping their problems around me too. I'm selfish, and I'm too tired to care.

Realization Galore

2005-09-27T15:08:00.000+08:00

I just realized it's 2 months to finals.

And I just realized how people can contradict themselves.

And I happened to realize from yesterday's EU lecture I like Prof. M's lectures more. And at that very same moment I had an epiphany about what's wrong with Coach's lecture style- he doesn't complete his sentence in one breath- makes it hard for us to comprehend and connect the ideas.

And I realized that I am STILL very slack. Old habits die hard. Oh well.

And I realized it's been 5 months since the last time I boozed. :)

And I realized I'm actually afraid of taking my TS1101E finals more than any other modules for some weird reasons. (Really, weird reasons I shan't burden you with)

Tosh 2

2005-09-23T11:22:00.000+08:00

I'm now in the Central Library, tapping away on my keyboard and listening to music. Seems the perfect cover for all seedy behaviour, aye?

Actually, alot of other things are going on internally. I'm painfully resisting the urge to go pick up the cutie sitting across the room, plugged into his iPod... oh hell no! Since when do I go round picking up cute guys, if there are any in the first place? But I'm resisting an urge though. The temptation to Maple in the middle of the central library, amidst the prying fiends and all. Now I can understand how hard it is for a guy to resist lust. Ok, not that I'm lusting for Maple (No, no, that is very wrong. Runs along the line of beastality which I am totally not into. In spite of the fact I do love killer whale, but no.) but I guess it's somewhere along that line. I'M HOOKED TO THAT DARNED GAME! I even dream of blasting ribbon pigs and horrible green mushrooms awaiting for a panlid.

This brings me to another discussion. I have this hypothesis that with every new multi-player game results in the advent of a whole new set of vocabulary. Things like NOOB (what the hell is that?) KS (kill-steal) and bizarre things like "I need some pot". I bet non-Maplers would think I'm into drugs. I guess that's a creative short-form of Potion, aye? So, yep, in the Mapler sense, Severus Snape is a Pot-head. (guffaws)

Oh, talking about Sevvie. I was just reading fanfiction (come on, I'm always reading fanfictions). A saucy sleazy one if you have to know. Oh, don't roll your eyes or yelp in disgust. We're all mature adults (I hope). This is purely based on Aristotle's theory of catharsis- in reading these seedy romances we purge ourselves of the desire/temptation to commit similar ... crimes. And trust me, after reading about the horrible trysts that go on ~~in people's heads~~ you would want to steer away from those things forever. Urgh. Oh yes, so back to the topic of fanfiction. (I keep sidetracking. This is not a good sign, although it makes this blog post animated and entertaining.) So, in reading the sleazy fic, some people walked past, and I froze. Thankfully font of words are small and discreet, or I shall bury myself under the horrible beige/brown carpeting of the library, should they pick up suggestive phrases like "snog", "disrobe" and whatnot. (I shall refrain from providing more examples to keep this blog suitably NC-13)

Ok I guess I have to take back the part about no cuties in school. A half-cutie just walked in. Though he looks sheepishly lost, I guess that'll do. Blond, tall... you get my idea. Not exactly a I'm-so-going-to-fall-head-over-heels-for-him cute, or I-'m-going-to-ambush-and-drag-him-into-a-broom-closet-to-snog cute... but 'tis not bad.

Oh well. Do I care? -raises eyebrows- Time to go for leçon de français. A bientot!

Love

2005-09-22T20:54:00.000+08:00

"... you had to be in love with a woman to have a basis of friendship." --Jake in The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway.

I don't know why, but I was reading my archives yesternight. And as I read about my emotional rollercoasters, I can't help but wonder, how on earth did I manage to get so emotional? Perhaps it was the way I wrote it that made it sound like it was end of the world. And revisiting those sequences of my life just made me feel silly. And not only because of my awkward writing skills. And maybe I'm proud to say that I've finally gotten past that stage. Maybe I'm proud that I don't love ~~you~~ that much anymore.

I guess I'm no longer bothered by my lack of interest in guys, because I have faith that one day I'll meet The One who can stoke the fire in my heart.

Tosh

2005-09-21T22:50:00.000+08:00

It's the 2nd last day of mid-term break and guess how's my progress on my readings?
If you know me well, it's barely down. Have yet to finish reading SAR (Hahaha, example of bad acronym of The Sun Also Rises), and my Euro-history is 0% done, and let's not talk about English and French...

I feel so dead. Only one day left. Procrastination is really the bane of my happiness.