... with mooncakes, champagne, and a little bit of haze.
Emerald Hill, Singapore
Mid-Autumn, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
* Celebrating Mid-Autumn...
... with mooncakes, champagne, and a little bit of haze.
Emerald Hill, Singapore
Mid-Autumn, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
God Save the Monkeys
Anger. Agitation. Sympathy. Sadness. Disappointment. Fear. And more anger.
This was cycle of emotions that I felt when I read, with much disgust, at the plight of the orangutans in Indonesia. In a nutshell, the poor primates are being driven out of their homes by ravaging fires in forests of Sumatra and Borneo, many burnt to death or injured and blinded in the deliberate disaster. For the orangutans which escaped the thick smoke, blistering flames and searing heat of their ruined habitats into the supposedly safer civilisation of mankind, they were instead subjected to further infliction of pain as men armed themselves with machetes, attacking every "encroaching" monkey they see.
I shudder to see photos of their fearful expression in the newspapers, and I shudder to think of how many more orangutans may be out there unknown to the ill fate that is awaiting them.
Please, wake up! How many more forests do these people have to burn down before they are realize that they are treading precariously on a fine line between existence and extinction. Not only of monkeys, nor the thousands of forest animals which are in real danger this very moment. But of this deteriorating earth that we all live, breathe and feed on.
Of course, I do not foolishly hope that the subsistent farmers and mercenary plantation companies in Indonesia care about what I, or anyone else, may think of them. However, it does not mean that I, or anyone else for that matter, should then shut up and do nothing about it.
Perhaps it is a reminder for us to reflect on our own ways, and ask ourselves if we are treading that fine line too.
God save the monkeys, and let us try to save them too.
This was cycle of emotions that I felt when I read, with much disgust, at the plight of the orangutans in Indonesia. In a nutshell, the poor primates are being driven out of their homes by ravaging fires in forests of Sumatra and Borneo, many burnt to death or injured and blinded in the deliberate disaster. For the orangutans which escaped the thick smoke, blistering flames and searing heat of their ruined habitats into the supposedly safer civilisation of mankind, they were instead subjected to further infliction of pain as men armed themselves with machetes, attacking every "encroaching" monkey they see.
I shudder to see photos of their fearful expression in the newspapers, and I shudder to think of how many more orangutans may be out there unknown to the ill fate that is awaiting them.
Please, wake up! How many more forests do these people have to burn down before they are realize that they are treading precariously on a fine line between existence and extinction. Not only of monkeys, nor the thousands of forest animals which are in real danger this very moment. But of this deteriorating earth that we all live, breathe and feed on.
Of course, I do not foolishly hope that the subsistent farmers and mercenary plantation companies in Indonesia care about what I, or anyone else, may think of them. However, it does not mean that I, or anyone else for that matter, should then shut up and do nothing about it.
Perhaps it is a reminder for us to reflect on our own ways, and ask ourselves if we are treading that fine line too.
God save the monkeys, and let us try to save them too.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Friday, September 01, 2006
Indulge Me
Yesterday, for the very first time in my life, I celebrated Teachers' Day as a teacher. To be honest, I wasn't quite prepared for all that attention I was to receive, and nearing the end of the school celebrations when the girls all shouted "Happy Teachers' Day!", tears actually welled up in my eyes.
Call me a sentimental fool, but I am truly touched.
It all started early in the day, when assembly had bared started. I saw several students sneak up one by one to their respective teachers to give them their T-Day gifts, and felt mildly envious. As a new teacher, I was rather anxious about the whole gift-receiving affair. Like any other teacher in the world, we do really mean it when we say, "the best present you can give me is to be a good student." However, blame it on our less-then-perfect human nature to worry when we do not receive as much attention as the teacher-next-door on this special day. Do my students hate me? Do they respect me? Am I even considered a teacher in their eyes?
So imagine the insecurity in me when I see the teacher seated next to me receiving present after present. I had none yet.
It was only after receiving the first gift (regrettably, I have failed to remember which student it was from) that I felt marginally relieved. Soon, the gifts started to trickle, and then pour in. Before I knew it, the two empty seats beside mine were bursting with flowers, cards and colorful packages. It was almost as if Christmas had arrived early. Suddenly, I felt quite overwhelmed, and slightly embarrassed to be showered with that much attention.
With the morning assembly and the ACES Day (it was also the national-wide All Children Exercising Simultaneously Day) event well over, I staggered into the staff room, half-exhausted, half-invigorated by my students' display of affection. As I stumped into my seat, looking at the messy heaps of gifts on my desk, it struck me. I AM a TEACHER.
As the day progressed, more gifts poured in, and at last count, a fellow teacher in the afternoon session informed me that there are more on my desk, apparently from students after I had left for the day.
That night, while I sat in my living room reading each card, tearing up gift wrappers and unveiling the content of the packages, the "I AM a TEACHER" thought became stronger and stronger, and never before had I felt more pride, responsibility and love for my students.
Try as I might to remember the faces of students who came up to me with their gifts and well-wishes, everything was a blur and I could hardly match a single gift with a face. Never mind, I appreciate every single thought. Gifts are immaterial.
To the students who saved each penny to buy a gift, thoughtfully wrote each word in your card and painsakingly wrapped each present, teacher wants to say a big "Thank you!" to you. I love you all.
To the students who didn't get me any, I still say, the best present you can give is to be a good student. Honestly. And I love you too.
Call me a sentimental fool, but I am truly touched.
It all started early in the day, when assembly had bared started. I saw several students sneak up one by one to their respective teachers to give them their T-Day gifts, and felt mildly envious. As a new teacher, I was rather anxious about the whole gift-receiving affair. Like any other teacher in the world, we do really mean it when we say, "the best present you can give me is to be a good student." However, blame it on our less-then-perfect human nature to worry when we do not receive as much attention as the teacher-next-door on this special day. Do my students hate me? Do they respect me? Am I even considered a teacher in their eyes?
So imagine the insecurity in me when I see the teacher seated next to me receiving present after present. I had none yet.
It was only after receiving the first gift (regrettably, I have failed to remember which student it was from) that I felt marginally relieved. Soon, the gifts started to trickle, and then pour in. Before I knew it, the two empty seats beside mine were bursting with flowers, cards and colorful packages. It was almost as if Christmas had arrived early. Suddenly, I felt quite overwhelmed, and slightly embarrassed to be showered with that much attention.
With the morning assembly and the ACES Day (it was also the national-wide All Children Exercising Simultaneously Day) event well over, I staggered into the staff room, half-exhausted, half-invigorated by my students' display of affection. As I stumped into my seat, looking at the messy heaps of gifts on my desk, it struck me. I AM a TEACHER.
As the day progressed, more gifts poured in, and at last count, a fellow teacher in the afternoon session informed me that there are more on my desk, apparently from students after I had left for the day.
That night, while I sat in my living room reading each card, tearing up gift wrappers and unveiling the content of the packages, the "I AM a TEACHER" thought became stronger and stronger, and never before had I felt more pride, responsibility and love for my students.
Try as I might to remember the faces of students who came up to me with their gifts and well-wishes, everything was a blur and I could hardly match a single gift with a face. Never mind, I appreciate every single thought. Gifts are immaterial.
To the students who saved each penny to buy a gift, thoughtfully wrote each word in your card and painsakingly wrapped each present, teacher wants to say a big "Thank you!" to you. I love you all.
To the students who didn't get me any, I still say, the best present you can give is to be a good student. Honestly. And I love you too.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
My Lord, What a Din!
Tuxes, lime green socks and a goofy sense of humor. That was the repertoire that the sensational Harvard Din & Tonics, an all-male a cappella group from the Harvard-yes-THAT-Harvard University, presented to Singapore on its National Day eve.
I was there that night at the Esplanade with three fabulous singer-friends - Huifen, Xiufeng and Chronos, who are almost as talented in music and comedy as those twelve funny ruffians (they called themselves that), and even bumped into a colleague who had watched the Dins last year and assured that they were 'very good'.
Nice. I was looking forward to hearing them for my very first time. Especially after a frustrating start to the evening.
You see, it was also a National Day fireworks night at the very location, with the fanfare set to go off the same time as their all-American performance. As you can pretty much imagine, the rest of Singapore jam-packed the entire City Hall/Suntec/Marina Bay area, with the Esplanade being smacked right in the heart of things. Thank God the four of us managed to squeeze through to the recital hall just before the performance started, but a good number of the audience were rather late, possibly due to the bad human and vehicle traffic.
Despite the less-than-stellar pre-concert experience, I must say that the boys were quite brilliant in their own rights. There was no question about their vocal prowess, but what was more captivating was their ability to tickle a somewhat mature and straight-faced audience while they sing to a perfect pitch. Whether it is their boyish looks (I'm referring to those few who have it, but to those who haven't, they are cute in their own right...), their hilarious improvisation antics (like the one of the Michelangelo masterpiece. Who ever thought that you can physically mimic a painting?) or their tongue-in-cheek moments talking about academic inadequacies, unrequited loves, and of course, the night's dazzling fireworks which every one of us in the recital hall missed. All for the sake of music.
So, amidst tapping our feet to the tunes of Blue Skies, Blah Blah Blah and My Lord, What a Morning, we were left clutching our sides from laughing too much. Well, ladies and gentlemen, that's what I call entertainment. Now, if only we can see the fireworks going off at the same time...
Perhaps next year? You bet.
I was there that night at the Esplanade with three fabulous singer-friends - Huifen, Xiufeng and Chronos, who are almost as talented in music and comedy as those twelve funny ruffians (they called themselves that), and even bumped into a colleague who had watched the Dins last year and assured that they were 'very good'.
Nice. I was looking forward to hearing them for my very first time. Especially after a frustrating start to the evening.
You see, it was also a National Day fireworks night at the very location, with the fanfare set to go off the same time as their all-American performance. As you can pretty much imagine, the rest of Singapore jam-packed the entire City Hall/Suntec/Marina Bay area, with the Esplanade being smacked right in the heart of things. Thank God the four of us managed to squeeze through to the recital hall just before the performance started, but a good number of the audience were rather late, possibly due to the bad human and vehicle traffic.
Despite the less-than-stellar pre-concert experience, I must say that the boys were quite brilliant in their own rights. There was no question about their vocal prowess, but what was more captivating was their ability to tickle a somewhat mature and straight-faced audience while they sing to a perfect pitch. Whether it is their boyish looks (I'm referring to those few who have it, but to those who haven't, they are cute in their own right...), their hilarious improvisation antics (like the one of the Michelangelo masterpiece. Who ever thought that you can physically mimic a painting?) or their tongue-in-cheek moments talking about academic inadequacies, unrequited loves, and of course, the night's dazzling fireworks which every one of us in the recital hall missed. All for the sake of music.
So, amidst tapping our feet to the tunes of Blue Skies, Blah Blah Blah and My Lord, What a Morning, we were left clutching our sides from laughing too much. Well, ladies and gentlemen, that's what I call entertainment. Now, if only we can see the fireworks going off at the same time...
Perhaps next year? You bet.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Guilty As Charged
Warning: This is not a happy post and should be avoided if you are, in anyway, even remotely depressed.
The past two weeks had been a little too much for me to bear, if not for my best-friend-and-evil-twin-sister Siewhong's timely companionship (including food, booze, loud music, and lots of senseless laughter) which tided me over.
The problem with me is that I'm one wide-eyed wonder, way too cheery to confront negativity. Not that I don't understand negativity, it's just... I don't understand why some people embrace it.
Take my cousin for example, she has everything she needs and all that she wants, save for a miscalculated career move some four years ago that has had some serious repercussions on her social and mental state of well-being, to the extent of being suicidal. To me, I'd probably say, so what. But to her, this episode has pinned her down and driven her deep into the doldrums. Maybe it's like clearing hurdle after hurdle but never reaching the finishing line. That, I can understand, and can sympatize with. But that, I cannot face.
It pains me a great deal to see her suffering, struggling to get out of that pit, while I look on so helplessly. Frankly, I do not know how to help her, despite showing a brave front and dishing out what I think is good advice. Her situation depresses me so much that I am avoiding it altogether, because I do not know what I can do for her anymore. To think she trusted me and came to me for help before she tried to jump off a building or swallowed pills. I should be so ashamed.
For now, I am trying. Trying hard to help her, and to help myself at the same time, coz I have realized that maybe, I am the one who is in denial. Maybe, I am the one who cannot cope with negativity. Just maybe, I am not as happy as I think I am.
The past two weeks had been a little too much for me to bear, if not for my best-friend-and-evil-twin-sister Siewhong's timely companionship (including food, booze, loud music, and lots of senseless laughter) which tided me over.
The problem with me is that I'm one wide-eyed wonder, way too cheery to confront negativity. Not that I don't understand negativity, it's just... I don't understand why some people embrace it.
Take my cousin for example, she has everything she needs and all that she wants, save for a miscalculated career move some four years ago that has had some serious repercussions on her social and mental state of well-being, to the extent of being suicidal. To me, I'd probably say, so what. But to her, this episode has pinned her down and driven her deep into the doldrums. Maybe it's like clearing hurdle after hurdle but never reaching the finishing line. That, I can understand, and can sympatize with. But that, I cannot face.
It pains me a great deal to see her suffering, struggling to get out of that pit, while I look on so helplessly. Frankly, I do not know how to help her, despite showing a brave front and dishing out what I think is good advice. Her situation depresses me so much that I am avoiding it altogether, because I do not know what I can do for her anymore. To think she trusted me and came to me for help before she tried to jump off a building or swallowed pills. I should be so ashamed.
For now, I am trying. Trying hard to help her, and to help myself at the same time, coz I have realized that maybe, I am the one who is in denial. Maybe, I am the one who cannot cope with negativity. Just maybe, I am not as happy as I think I am.
* Twenty Ways to Say "I'm Vain"
A chronical of Ms. Hypewriter's valiant (and futile) efforts to remake herself over the years.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Braveheart
It's insane. I work close to 12 hours everyday, five days a week, sometimes with a complimentary Saturday morning thrown in for good measure, and yet it always seems like the entire PL teaching force works harder than me.
Well, to be fair, I don't take lunch or tea breaks. I don't partake in small talk with my colleagues. And I am always fast on the move, multi-tasking between full-blast lessons, desk-ridden marking and a whole list of miscellaneous chores. Yet, piles of books sit on my desk each day, as if silently mocking my incompetence.
In fact, PILES and PILES of books sprawl across every single desk in the staff room, as teachers shuffle in and out everyday, demoralized, defeated and destroyed, but nonetheless fearless enough to soldier on without as much as a second thought.
Sounds pretty bad huh? Well, on the contrary, I think it's great, because I actually do like my job, and I like it a great deal. As the saying goes, you can never conquer the books, but you do conquer the little minds.
And by the way, that saying was from me. Heh.
Well, to be fair, I don't take lunch or tea breaks. I don't partake in small talk with my colleagues. And I am always fast on the move, multi-tasking between full-blast lessons, desk-ridden marking and a whole list of miscellaneous chores. Yet, piles of books sit on my desk each day, as if silently mocking my incompetence.
In fact, PILES and PILES of books sprawl across every single desk in the staff room, as teachers shuffle in and out everyday, demoralized, defeated and destroyed, but nonetheless fearless enough to soldier on without as much as a second thought.
Sounds pretty bad huh? Well, on the contrary, I think it's great, because I actually do like my job, and I like it a great deal. As the saying goes, you can never conquer the books, but you do conquer the little minds.
And by the way, that saying was from me. Heh.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
When Mate Turns Into Mom
I'm not sure when exactly my friendship with Huiann developed into what it is today. To begin with, Huiann was such a model student back then in school, so much so that it seemed like protocol to be engaged with her just as such - hardworking, disciplined, saccharin sweet; just a trifle too proper for someone as un-decent (not indecent though) as me.
Looking back, I guess our rough VJC-ODAC days had built good foundation there. After all, you don't go through two years of frolicking in dirt, seawater and sweat with a person and simply end up being just regular friends. And I'm not even exaggerating.
Perhaps it was that moment when I foolhardily jumped onboard that malam express train with her, secretly discussing our Mission America as the train chugged fervently towards her hometown Kuala Lumpur. It was from each other, I supposed, that we garnered the courage to seek further education some 9000-plus miles away from home despite parental objections.
Or maybe it was the occasional phone call we'd give each other, whether across states (she in New York, and I in Minneapolis then) or across continents (she still in the States, and I somewhere in Asia later on). In between us, there was a comforting sense of camaraderie that I never shared with anyone else.
Whatever it was, it developed into a sisterhood that remains fast and strong, notwithstanding our lack of contact in recent years. In fact, it seemed just like yesterday when we settled in our sleeper bunks to KL, when we caught up for a few minutes through a glass panel at the Changi Airport transit area, when you introduced us to Kengo for the first time, when I literally got you on your knees at your wedding tea ceremony, and when you had that weird little bulge in your tummy and had to wear jeans that wasn't button-fly but elastic-band...
And good grief, it has been ten years since that fateful train ride. Ten years on, nothing has changed for me, but you, (gasp) you have turned from Huiann-the-mate to Huiann-the-mom. It's like you have a PhD in life and I'm still stuck at Survival 101. Well, heck, I don't really care, except that I feel really happy for you, it's like watching a movie with a happily-ever-after ending and coming out eager for the sequel (where you get the baby and all that...)
I don't really know why I'm saying all these, but I guess it's just my way of saying "Great Job, Mom!" and to let little Erisa know that she's got a helluva mother.
Looking back, I guess our rough VJC-ODAC days had built good foundation there. After all, you don't go through two years of frolicking in dirt, seawater and sweat with a person and simply end up being just regular friends. And I'm not even exaggerating.
Perhaps it was that moment when I foolhardily jumped onboard that malam express train with her, secretly discussing our Mission America as the train chugged fervently towards her hometown Kuala Lumpur. It was from each other, I supposed, that we garnered the courage to seek further education some 9000-plus miles away from home despite parental objections.
Or maybe it was the occasional phone call we'd give each other, whether across states (she in New York, and I in Minneapolis then) or across continents (she still in the States, and I somewhere in Asia later on). In between us, there was a comforting sense of camaraderie that I never shared with anyone else.
Whatever it was, it developed into a sisterhood that remains fast and strong, notwithstanding our lack of contact in recent years. In fact, it seemed just like yesterday when we settled in our sleeper bunks to KL, when we caught up for a few minutes through a glass panel at the Changi Airport transit area, when you introduced us to Kengo for the first time, when I literally got you on your knees at your wedding tea ceremony, and when you had that weird little bulge in your tummy and had to wear jeans that wasn't button-fly but elastic-band...
And good grief, it has been ten years since that fateful train ride. Ten years on, nothing has changed for me, but you, (gasp) you have turned from Huiann-the-mate to Huiann-the-mom. It's like you have a PhD in life and I'm still stuck at Survival 101. Well, heck, I don't really care, except that I feel really happy for you, it's like watching a movie with a happily-ever-after ending and coming out eager for the sequel (where you get the baby and all that...)
I don't really know why I'm saying all these, but I guess it's just my way of saying "Great Job, Mom!" and to let little Erisa know that she's got a helluva mother.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Friday, March 17, 2006
Training
This post is just a light-hearted take on my precious teaching career and is not meant to be taken seriously. So pupils, spare thy teacher. And MOE, please don't prosecute me.
It took me seven months of hard work at NIE before this funny little thought crossed my mind.
In fact, it was a copy of Behavioral Modification notes that did it for me. I realized we are a bunch of kid manipulators in training, not unlike zoo-keepers or circus-trainers.
Well, not that it is a bad thing after all. Young children nowadays... you'd wish they were made with some sort of embedded remote control. Better yet, let them run on DC so that we can take the batteries out once in a while! Teachers gotta do what we gotta do -- set spoilt-brats and cry-babies straight by learning various important-sounding Educational Psychology methods. Give them a reward when they are behaving well, and ignore their nonsense to extinct their behavior. Yeah, it's really just pet-handling. (Do not quote.)
BUT, it's not as simple as it sounds. As with any self-respecting high-risk vocation (yes, teaching is a dangerous affair, ask any practising teacher) we must first be trained under the supervision of a world-class faculty (read: probably ex-teachers who had spent years under the torture of their wards, and now redirecting their energy to help others battle evil students instead.)
And of course, place our campus in an unbelieveable location at the western-most point of Singapore. Good heavens, it is so goddamn far that I can travel to Malaysia and clear the customs in less time than it takes for me to reach home. I suppose they just wanted to make sure that no school kid can come near enough to know what child-handling spells they have been teaching their teachers. But then again, a dreadfully slow bus service and a mind-numbling MRT ride daily is all it takes for us to forget everything that we've learnt. So there, relax, kids.
Ahh, and food. They feed us revolting food on campus so that we will eventually learn to appreciate the art of fine dining in future school canteens. How thoughtful. Acquired taste for 50-cents siewmai and cheechongfun: check.
It's all a massive effort to prep us for The Unbearable Madness of Teaching. Now that I'm the midst of my teaching practicum, I've begun to appreciate what the Institute had given me, even though I can't remember a thing at the back of my thick skull when kids are poking each other's eyes and making animal noises in class. At the very least, I know I have those Behavorial Modification notes in my locker.
Phew!
It took me seven months of hard work at NIE before this funny little thought crossed my mind.
In fact, it was a copy of Behavioral Modification notes that did it for me. I realized we are a bunch of kid manipulators in training, not unlike zoo-keepers or circus-trainers.
Well, not that it is a bad thing after all. Young children nowadays... you'd wish they were made with some sort of embedded remote control. Better yet, let them run on DC so that we can take the batteries out once in a while! Teachers gotta do what we gotta do -- set spoilt-brats and cry-babies straight by learning various important-sounding Educational Psychology methods. Give them a reward when they are behaving well, and ignore their nonsense to extinct their behavior. Yeah, it's really just pet-handling. (Do not quote.)
BUT, it's not as simple as it sounds. As with any self-respecting high-risk vocation (yes, teaching is a dangerous affair, ask any practising teacher) we must first be trained under the supervision of a world-class faculty (read: probably ex-teachers who had spent years under the torture of their wards, and now redirecting their energy to help others battle evil students instead.)
And of course, place our campus in an unbelieveable location at the western-most point of Singapore. Good heavens, it is so goddamn far that I can travel to Malaysia and clear the customs in less time than it takes for me to reach home. I suppose they just wanted to make sure that no school kid can come near enough to know what child-handling spells they have been teaching their teachers. But then again, a dreadfully slow bus service and a mind-numbling MRT ride daily is all it takes for us to forget everything that we've learnt. So there, relax, kids.
Ahh, and food. They feed us revolting food on campus so that we will eventually learn to appreciate the art of fine dining in future school canteens. How thoughtful. Acquired taste for 50-cents siewmai and cheechongfun: check.
It's all a massive effort to prep us for The Unbearable Madness of Teaching. Now that I'm the midst of my teaching practicum, I've begun to appreciate what the Institute had given me, even though I can't remember a thing at the back of my thick skull when kids are poking each other's eyes and making animal noises in class. At the very least, I know I have those Behavorial Modification notes in my locker.
Phew!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Adieu
Time flies. No, maybe fly is not a good enough adjective. Time rockets.
I can't believe that it had been almost eight months since I started my teacher training course.
I can't believe that I had survive two semesters of intensive pedagogical and curricular modules. I can't believe that I am really going to step into a classroom to teach.
You mean, I am a teacher??!!
It's all rather sad, really. I hate to leave NIE. This, despite the fact that I have to endure the long commutes to and from campus. Afterall, there is a bunch of fun and spirited coursemates to share that horrible MRT ride with, to pack together like sardines on a 199 service bus, and to go through the thick-and-thins of preparing for presentations after presentations, assignments after assignments, all for the sake of being a qualified, and hopefully, also a competent professional educator. Competent enough, at least, to survive the unknowns that behold in schools. Shudder.
I will miss all of you:
My GESL-mates who have shared many grumbles and frustrations initially, and then lots more fun and supportive moments, especially at our VERY SUCCESSFUL camp. (I just had to BOLD that part.)
My Chinese specialization coursemates and classmates, who have infected me with their passion for the language, and for those witty moments that made learning so much easier. Special thanks to my groupmates. I could not have done this without you! Collaboration at its best!
My other module-mates, thank you for selflessly sharing all that you've got. I feel as if I've had a lifetime of classroom teaching after listening to all your experiences. You guys have just given me a good headstart there.
My lecturers and tutors, you have all inspired me to give everything I have to education, just like you have given yours. I will never forget what you have done for us.
With this, adieu NIE. Till we meet again.
I can't believe that it had been almost eight months since I started my teacher training course.
I can't believe that I had survive two semesters of intensive pedagogical and curricular modules. I can't believe that I am really going to step into a classroom to teach.
You mean, I am a teacher??!!
It's all rather sad, really. I hate to leave NIE. This, despite the fact that I have to endure the long commutes to and from campus. Afterall, there is a bunch of fun and spirited coursemates to share that horrible MRT ride with, to pack together like sardines on a 199 service bus, and to go through the thick-and-thins of preparing for presentations after presentations, assignments after assignments, all for the sake of being a qualified, and hopefully, also a competent professional educator. Competent enough, at least, to survive the unknowns that behold in schools. Shudder.
I will miss all of you:
My GESL-mates who have shared many grumbles and frustrations initially, and then lots more fun and supportive moments, especially at our VERY SUCCESSFUL camp. (I just had to BOLD that part.)
My Chinese specialization coursemates and classmates, who have infected me with their passion for the language, and for those witty moments that made learning so much easier. Special thanks to my groupmates. I could not have done this without you! Collaboration at its best!
My other module-mates, thank you for selflessly sharing all that you've got. I feel as if I've had a lifetime of classroom teaching after listening to all your experiences. You guys have just given me a good headstart there.
My lecturers and tutors, you have all inspired me to give everything I have to education, just like you have given yours. I will never forget what you have done for us.
With this, adieu NIE. Till we meet again.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Stress-Buster
Some people blog to relieve boredom. I blog to relieve stress. Strange as it may sound, I always have the biggest urge to post something here when I'm at the peak of my work cycle. No matter how near a dateline is, or how high my workload piles up in front of me, I'd find time to log online and type away.
And it's happening right now. I have two presentations, two papers and an exam due next week, which means I really should be looking at a Word or Powerpoint window right now, not this one that says Internet Explorer. What to do, I need to tell the world that I am busy and stressed out right now, OK?
So the next time you see a new post on my blog, remember that I'm not loafing around. I've got plenty on my hands and the pressure is running high. Which reminds me, I've got to go back to my Word and Powerpoint windows. Now God help me.
And it's happening right now. I have two presentations, two papers and an exam due next week, which means I really should be looking at a Word or Powerpoint window right now, not this one that says Internet Explorer. What to do, I need to tell the world that I am busy and stressed out right now, OK?
So the next time you see a new post on my blog, remember that I'm not loafing around. I've got plenty on my hands and the pressure is running high. Which reminds me, I've got to go back to my Word and Powerpoint windows. Now God help me.
Practicum Posting
It has been decided. I'm going to do my teaching practicum at PL**S. Looks like I am destined to go to all-girls' schools my whole life. Some things never change.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
Warfare
Yes, you heard my battle calls. I'm going on war and it's no laughing business.
OK, I am sick la. You heard my coughs and sniffs, more likely.
Not deliriously sick, but sick enough to have stayed at home over the weekend and as a result, missed a birthday party, a stag night (why am I invited anyway?) and worse, my sister's invitation to drop by her home to pick up free cosmetics.
See, I am THAT ill.
The irritating thing about this current flu bug, is that it has bogged me down for some weeks now. Some serious bug, really! And to top it off, this workaholic works without a schedule. My condition swings erratically from being absolutely bubbly and well, to being confined in the pits and in my bed, with just a box of Kleenex for company.
Well, not that I am complaining, since I am partly responsible for my own state of well-being. You see, from Dec 10 right up to Jan 2, I have been putting my health at stake by having way too much fun. It was of course no joke that I had to start school on the very next day. To add insult to injury, the very next day = my birthday, which was, by the way, also my last twenty-something-th birthday. Sniff. Sob. WAHHHHH...
Frankly, starting 2006 in such less than desirable condition did shake me up a little. I have since learnt my lesson and decided to make health my top priority in my days ahead. Having fun will, unfortunately, have to take the second spot in my grand list of resolutions.
With this, I declare that I will devote my every living moment henceforth to making The Flu Bug miserable and wishing that it had never lived.
Medicine, vitamins, bring them on!
OK, I am sick la. You heard my coughs and sniffs, more likely.
Not deliriously sick, but sick enough to have stayed at home over the weekend and as a result, missed a birthday party, a stag night (why am I invited anyway?) and worse, my sister's invitation to drop by her home to pick up free cosmetics.
See, I am THAT ill.
The irritating thing about this current flu bug, is that it has bogged me down for some weeks now. Some serious bug, really! And to top it off, this workaholic works without a schedule. My condition swings erratically from being absolutely bubbly and well, to being confined in the pits and in my bed, with just a box of Kleenex for company.
Well, not that I am complaining, since I am partly responsible for my own state of well-being. You see, from Dec 10 right up to Jan 2, I have been putting my health at stake by having way too much fun. It was of course no joke that I had to start school on the very next day. To add insult to injury, the very next day = my birthday, which was, by the way, also my last twenty-something-th birthday. Sniff. Sob. WAHHHHH...
Frankly, starting 2006 in such less than desirable condition did shake me up a little. I have since learnt my lesson and decided to make health my top priority in my days ahead. Having fun will, unfortunately, have to take the second spot in my grand list of resolutions.
With this, I declare that I will devote my every living moment henceforth to making The Flu Bug miserable and wishing that it had never lived.
Medicine, vitamins, bring them on!
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Sob Stories
An interesting fact about me is I almost never cry, but when I do, it is usually because of really weird things.
I remember when I was in secondary school, when we had to bid farewell to some relief teacher or retiring teacher (I don't even remember) and everyone was tearing like nobody's business, I stood blinking, dry-eyed and feeling very ridiculous about the scene others were making.
Another incident I recall was the one featuring my face-to-face, skin-to-skin encounter with my worst nightmare - the house lizard (believe me, I could withstand a few fat leeches sucking my life out of me, or capturing a flying cockroach with my bare hands, but when it comes to lizards, I'd rather die). I was happily digging into my box of leftover chocolate bits and munching away when the cursed little reptile fell out of it, onto my hand. I think I screamed so loud that the entire Serangoon estate could hear me, but nevertheless, I did not cry.
Then, there was this time when I had to kill a chicken with my bare hands and dig its intestines out from the butt-side. I didn't cry too. Instead, I laughed a little and unfortunately got caught on camera, thus earning me the royal title of THE DAREDEVIL.
However, I cry at the most unbelievable things. Or rather, I should say that things simple and mundane move me the most. Usually, it'll be something like a Kleenex ad, a folk song, or just a random scene from a comedy. I would sometimes be strangely moved to tears too when I see a lone bird in flight, a few kittens playing with one another, or an old man peddling ice-cream. Once in a long while, I would just lie on my bed and start to cry non-stop for no reason at all. Must be my quirky way of relieving stress, I don't know...
One sure way to start me sobbing away almost immediately is when I think of my parents. I become extremely vulnerable when they come into the picture. So, it's good that I am back under the same roof with them, and hence not having to miss them too much.
So you see, so much for those till-death-do-us-apart Korean dramas or sob-till-you-drop Qiong Yao romance novels. They are just no match against two jolly old folks; or an elderly street hawker; or a single bird. Not even a box of tissue.
I say, what touches the heart, is what is in the heart itself. No more, no less. Go figure.
I remember when I was in secondary school, when we had to bid farewell to some relief teacher or retiring teacher (I don't even remember) and everyone was tearing like nobody's business, I stood blinking, dry-eyed and feeling very ridiculous about the scene others were making.
Another incident I recall was the one featuring my face-to-face, skin-to-skin encounter with my worst nightmare - the house lizard (believe me, I could withstand a few fat leeches sucking my life out of me, or capturing a flying cockroach with my bare hands, but when it comes to lizards, I'd rather die). I was happily digging into my box of leftover chocolate bits and munching away when the cursed little reptile fell out of it, onto my hand. I think I screamed so loud that the entire Serangoon estate could hear me, but nevertheless, I did not cry.
Then, there was this time when I had to kill a chicken with my bare hands and dig its intestines out from the butt-side. I didn't cry too. Instead, I laughed a little and unfortunately got caught on camera, thus earning me the royal title of THE DAREDEVIL.
However, I cry at the most unbelievable things. Or rather, I should say that things simple and mundane move me the most. Usually, it'll be something like a Kleenex ad, a folk song, or just a random scene from a comedy. I would sometimes be strangely moved to tears too when I see a lone bird in flight, a few kittens playing with one another, or an old man peddling ice-cream. Once in a long while, I would just lie on my bed and start to cry non-stop for no reason at all. Must be my quirky way of relieving stress, I don't know...
One sure way to start me sobbing away almost immediately is when I think of my parents. I become extremely vulnerable when they come into the picture. So, it's good that I am back under the same roof with them, and hence not having to miss them too much.
So you see, so much for those till-death-do-us-apart Korean dramas or sob-till-you-drop Qiong Yao romance novels. They are just no match against two jolly old folks; or an elderly street hawker; or a single bird. Not even a box of tissue.
I say, what touches the heart, is what is in the heart itself. No more, no less. Go figure.
* Always Put Up a Good Fight...
... even if it's against your twin sister.
Pacific Bay, Taiwan - Oct' 01
I Love Rock N' Roll
I hate the fact that I look like a proper law-abiding citizen. I dislike the superficial Ms. Decent skin that I was born in. I wish I can look like a rocker. An angst-ridden, tough-as-steel rock star in leather.
If you are thinking, "Wow, I would never have guessed", then you probably don't know me very well.
You have probably never heard me at KTV.
You have probably never seen me at rock concerts.
You have probably never witnessed how I scream at my students.
Yes, my favorite movie is School of Rock.
And yes, I ever sang and dance to Elvis' songs with a comb in hand.
I ever cried with my mom when John Lennon was murdered.
I cried again with my sister when Beyond's lead singer fell off the stage and died.
I ever really wanted to marry Jon Bon Jovi.
I ever imagined I could play the guitar like The Edge in U2.
I ever spent SGD$50 on a Japanese CD by Spitz.
I even know all the lyrics to Mayday's hokkien songs (and I'm not even Hokkien).
In other words, I am a multilingual rock chick. Love and peace.
If you are thinking, "Wow, I would never have guessed", then you probably don't know me very well.
You have probably never heard me at KTV.
You have probably never seen me at rock concerts.
You have probably never witnessed how I scream at my students.
Yes, my favorite movie is School of Rock.
And yes, I ever sang and dance to Elvis' songs with a comb in hand.
I ever cried with my mom when John Lennon was murdered.
I cried again with my sister when Beyond's lead singer fell off the stage and died.
I ever really wanted to marry Jon Bon Jovi.
I ever imagined I could play the guitar like The Edge in U2.
I ever spent SGD$50 on a Japanese CD by Spitz.
I even know all the lyrics to Mayday's hokkien songs (and I'm not even Hokkien).
In other words, I am a multilingual rock chick. Love and peace.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Friday, November 18, 2005
Potter Rocks
OK, maybe I'm not strictly referring to Harry per se, but the entire whimsical wizardry world of his. What a neat place to be in, despite having to deal with sweaty nightmares and actually having to duel with the-one-who-shamelessly-calls-himself-the-dark-lord.
I bet it is anyone's fantasy world... Well, except those self-declared 'mature adults' with eyes only for a trilogy of some lousy ring. Haha, I'm being spiteful here, but no offence. As long as you keep your insults to yourself, I'll keep mine too, until I get down to actually reading the first LOTR novel that is lying in dust somewhere in my broom-cupboard bedroom.
Now, back to Harry and his friends. My one single big thought about this latest movie episode is on dear old Albus Dumberdore. So, the original actor passed away and they had to cast some other guy, but certainly there is some kind of quality control, you'd think?! I was certainly quite taken back by the loud, aggressive, and even...somewhat...dark (gasp) Dumberdore. What happened to the kind, gentle old principal we knew him to be? I cannot help but think this new identity is a big secret waiting to be uncovered. Maybe Dumberdore has been possessed? Maybe he is some bad guy taking lots of polyjuice potion? Maybe Sirius in disguise? Or maybe... I don't know, this old guy just unsettles me.
But anyway, let's forget about that and move on to wonderful younger beings. Ah yes, my personal favorite - Nerville Longbottom. Cute name, cuter boy. I thought the bits on his love for dancing were really sweet. Plus, for a supporting role, he had really earned some good airtime there. Oh man, I just love guys who dance.
Next, George and Fred. Man, I love twins as well. Mischievous twins, how wicked is that? I absolutely dig the scene when both of them mimicked Ron's dance with Professor McGonagall, in synch no less!
And the adults? Hmm, Snape and MadEye Moody comes to mind. Snape, for his sleeve-drawing performance, and Moody, what can I say. Disguise aside, if I've had a teacher like him, I would darn well be President Scholar of my year. Well, no time for regrets, I'll just strive to teach like him, minus the transfiguration. What do you say, my students???
I've just looked. Can't find the LOTR novel. Guess I'll just settle for a re-read of my Potter series. Hmm let's see...where are the books? " Now, accio!"
I bet it is anyone's fantasy world... Well, except those self-declared 'mature adults' with eyes only for a trilogy of some lousy ring. Haha, I'm being spiteful here, but no offence. As long as you keep your insults to yourself, I'll keep mine too, until I get down to actually reading the first LOTR novel that is lying in dust somewhere in my broom-cupboard bedroom.
Now, back to Harry and his friends. My one single big thought about this latest movie episode is on dear old Albus Dumberdore. So, the original actor passed away and they had to cast some other guy, but certainly there is some kind of quality control, you'd think?! I was certainly quite taken back by the loud, aggressive, and even...somewhat...dark (gasp) Dumberdore. What happened to the kind, gentle old principal we knew him to be? I cannot help but think this new identity is a big secret waiting to be uncovered. Maybe Dumberdore has been possessed? Maybe he is some bad guy taking lots of polyjuice potion? Maybe Sirius in disguise? Or maybe... I don't know, this old guy just unsettles me.
But anyway, let's forget about that and move on to wonderful younger beings. Ah yes, my personal favorite - Nerville Longbottom. Cute name, cuter boy. I thought the bits on his love for dancing were really sweet. Plus, for a supporting role, he had really earned some good airtime there. Oh man, I just love guys who dance.
Next, George and Fred. Man, I love twins as well. Mischievous twins, how wicked is that? I absolutely dig the scene when both of them mimicked Ron's dance with Professor McGonagall, in synch no less!
And the adults? Hmm, Snape and MadEye Moody comes to mind. Snape, for his sleeve-drawing performance, and Moody, what can I say. Disguise aside, if I've had a teacher like him, I would darn well be President Scholar of my year. Well, no time for regrets, I'll just strive to teach like him, minus the transfiguration. What do you say, my students???
I've just looked. Can't find the LOTR novel. Guess I'll just settle for a re-read of my Potter series. Hmm let's see...where are the books? " Now, accio!"
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
One Wedding and A Funeral
November 12, 2005 - the day two capable, intelligent and good-looking friends finally tied the knot of matrimonial bliss.
November 13, 2005 - the day a friend's granny passed away unexpectedly.
Such is life. Life that is determined by what we set out to do at times, but also one that is beyond our control most other times.
For me, that was a tiring week. I had experienced anticipation, excitement, joy, contentment and some very touching moments. Then just one day later, a whole new set of emotions - grief, sympathy and pain.
I shared Huayimm and Damien's happiness because I was made part of the celebration. From brainstorming ballroom design ideas to making wedding invites to being emcee for their wedding dinner, every moment was one of infectious love and beginning. You have to try very hard not to feel it.
But on the other hand, I did not know Sam's grandma. Yesterday at the wake, I saw her photo for the very first time. There wasn't alot of activity. Family members chatting in small groups and attending to the rituals in a matter-of-factly way. It was hard to imagine that just two days ago, a funeral was the furthest thing on their minds. However, despite the untelling scene, I just had to take one look into Sam's eyes to feel her loss. No living person can ever hide the pain of death.
Just as no one should ever hide the happiness of life.
To Huayimm and Damien, maybe you be happy always.
To Sam, get happy real soon. You know Grandma is happy where she is now.
November 13, 2005 - the day a friend's granny passed away unexpectedly.
Such is life. Life that is determined by what we set out to do at times, but also one that is beyond our control most other times.
For me, that was a tiring week. I had experienced anticipation, excitement, joy, contentment and some very touching moments. Then just one day later, a whole new set of emotions - grief, sympathy and pain.
I shared Huayimm and Damien's happiness because I was made part of the celebration. From brainstorming ballroom design ideas to making wedding invites to being emcee for their wedding dinner, every moment was one of infectious love and beginning. You have to try very hard not to feel it.
But on the other hand, I did not know Sam's grandma. Yesterday at the wake, I saw her photo for the very first time. There wasn't alot of activity. Family members chatting in small groups and attending to the rituals in a matter-of-factly way. It was hard to imagine that just two days ago, a funeral was the furthest thing on their minds. However, despite the untelling scene, I just had to take one look into Sam's eyes to feel her loss. No living person can ever hide the pain of death.
Just as no one should ever hide the happiness of life.
To Huayimm and Damien, maybe you be happy always.
To Sam, get happy real soon. You know Grandma is happy where she is now.
Comeback
Exams are finally over, well almost...the last one is tomorrow but frankly, I don't quite care. I'll be goofing around for the next seven weeks with no work, no school, no nothing. Life is good to me.
Frankly, being set free from mundane routines took some getting used to. For the first time in a long time, I felt so weird having nothing to do. Boredom quickly set in and since most of my close friends were either not in town, feeling ill, or had datelines to meet, I was soon texting almost everyone I could possibly think of, seeking to "reconnect" with some long-lost people out there.
It's strange how your brain doesn't quite work when freed from stress. For the past few months when I had tons of assignments and exams piled in front of me, I lamented endlessly about my lack of time to blog. But when I had all the time in the world and needed something to do, I forgot that I had a blog to write. Duh.
So, I hereby declare that I shall and I will start writing again. For all my good fans out there, thanks for the long wait. I am back.
Frankly, being set free from mundane routines took some getting used to. For the first time in a long time, I felt so weird having nothing to do. Boredom quickly set in and since most of my close friends were either not in town, feeling ill, or had datelines to meet, I was soon texting almost everyone I could possibly think of, seeking to "reconnect" with some long-lost people out there.
It's strange how your brain doesn't quite work when freed from stress. For the past few months when I had tons of assignments and exams piled in front of me, I lamented endlessly about my lack of time to blog. But when I had all the time in the world and needed something to do, I forgot that I had a blog to write. Duh.
So, I hereby declare that I shall and I will start writing again. For all my good fans out there, thanks for the long wait. I am back.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Thank You for the Music
Dedicated to my steadfast piano for being at my side for more than 20 years, which I had constantly neglected, which I had almost ingratefully forgotten about. Recently, I've started playing music again, and rediscovered the joy that it had always given me. Thank you, Mr. Piano. Thank you for the music.
Mr. Piano
Old Dusty Mister Dark Wood Piano
Stands proudly upright
Bravely stoic
Deadly still
In its own silent shadow
Like a heavy tomb door sealed with grief
The dark wooden lid
A little warmed
Gently loved
By a cat soundly sleeping
He longs for some music
A heartfelt sonata
But the only sounds he hears
The rhythmic purrs
As the cat coils in tighter
Quietly determined is Mr. Piano
Keys and pedals lay await
For the lid to be lifted of its sadness
And a slightly off-pitch tune is played
Once again someday
Mr. Piano
Old Dusty Mister Dark Wood Piano
Stands proudly upright
Bravely stoic
Deadly still
In its own silent shadow
Like a heavy tomb door sealed with grief
The dark wooden lid
A little warmed
Gently loved
By a cat soundly sleeping
He longs for some music
A heartfelt sonata
But the only sounds he hears
The rhythmic purrs
As the cat coils in tighter
Quietly determined is Mr. Piano
Keys and pedals lay await
For the lid to be lifted of its sadness
And a slightly off-pitch tune is played
Once again someday
Thursday, September 15, 2005
A New Home
Dear readers,
I've created a new blog specially for my Chinese posts! Well, it wasn't a deliberate move... I had do something for my Photoshop assignment so thought I might as well put my end product to good use. So please go admire my backbreaking piece of creation even if you can't understand those funky Chinese characters, please...please...please...!
親愛的讀者：
為了配合本人雙語創作美少女的優質形象，我徹夜趕工，終於設立了專屬中文作品的全新部落格(blog)！值得一提的是我剛才學會一些Photoshop的皮毛，通宵作出一個我自認超滿意的設計，包括文案都是親筆寫的哦！所以請各位阿姐阿哥踴躍支持... 感恩啦！
Update Jan 10, 2006: My Chinese blog had since moved and been republished. Please refer to 'Links' to access it.
I've created a new blog specially for my Chinese posts! Well, it wasn't a deliberate move... I had do something for my Photoshop assignment so thought I might as well put my end product to good use. So please go admire my backbreaking piece of creation even if you can't understand those funky Chinese characters, please...please...please...!
親愛的讀者：
為了配合本人雙語創作美少女的優質形象，我徹夜趕工，終於設立了專屬中文作品的全新部落格(blog)！值得一提的是我剛才學會一些Photoshop的皮毛，通宵作出一個我自認超滿意的設計，包括文案都是親筆寫的哦！所以請各位阿姐阿哥踴躍支持... 感恩啦！
Update Jan 10, 2006: My Chinese blog had since moved and been republished. Please refer to 'Links' to access it.
Monday, September 12, 2005
I'm Sorry Peter...
On this very blog just barely 3 days ago, I had professed by undying love for my Creative Neeon MP3 player adoringly nicknamed Purple Peter.
These days, however, it seems that love doesn't run very long, especially when there is a strong 3rd party contending for attention. Apple had won me over with their latest Ipod Nano. I've decided to end my relationship with passe Peter. Soon.
Like one freshly in love, I just have to tell you how excited I am about this new affair. It's incredible. Have you quite seen anything like that?!! It is black magic in the techno-gadget world. Totally freaky, but ultimately captivating.
I'm craving, I'm lusting for you, Nano!!!
Friday, September 09, 2005
Waxin' Lyrical
I know someone's bound to complain, but I really can't help it. I know posting song lyrics is not exactly a creative process, but it's the best I can do for now. It has been a bit of an overkill for my poor skull lately, as forgotten datelines for essays and projects suddenly pop back up in my little tattered calender of events.
To summarize, the only free time I've left to do better things is that spent on public transport. And of course, please don't forget that on the top of my list of better things, is sleeping. Yes, I've perfected the Art of Zzz-ing on trains. No drool, no head-banging or any form of sound-effect at all. Indeed, I've progressed alot from my leaving-backpack-imprints-on-face days. Not that much of a feat at all if you consider my passionate devotion of almost 4 hours daily to public transport.
But of course, being industrious as I usually am, this 'quality' time is not only spent on my favorite sport (sleeping, I mean). Let me now introduce you to my faithful spouse of 3 months - Purple Peter - named after a Smurf song I learnt some 20+ years ago. Peter is actually my Creative MP3 player, and yes he is colored.
The reason I love Peter so much is because he has so much in him - all that I like, quite almost all that I want. Well, it wouldn't be anyway else since I AM the person loading mp3 files into him. Duh.
So my intelligent friend - you, should have figured by now that I am basically doing five things everyday. Sleeping, commuting, attending classes, doing homework and listening to music - in all forms of overlap. Actually, make that six things. Recharging my MP3 player counts as a time-consuming activity too... ask Creative.
In conclusion, be thankful that you still get to read lyrics.
To summarize, the only free time I've left to do better things is that spent on public transport. And of course, please don't forget that on the top of my list of better things, is sleeping. Yes, I've perfected the Art of Zzz-ing on trains. No drool, no head-banging or any form of sound-effect at all. Indeed, I've progressed alot from my leaving-backpack-imprints-on-face days. Not that much of a feat at all if you consider my passionate devotion of almost 4 hours daily to public transport.
But of course, being industrious as I usually am, this 'quality' time is not only spent on my favorite sport (sleeping, I mean). Let me now introduce you to my faithful spouse of 3 months - Purple Peter - named after a Smurf song I learnt some 20+ years ago. Peter is actually my Creative MP3 player, and yes he is colored.
The reason I love Peter so much is because he has so much in him - all that I like, quite almost all that I want. Well, it wouldn't be anyway else since I AM the person loading mp3 files into him. Duh.
So my intelligent friend - you, should have figured by now that I am basically doing five things everyday. Sleeping, commuting, attending classes, doing homework and listening to music - in all forms of overlap. Actually, make that six things. Recharging my MP3 player counts as a time-consuming activity too... ask Creative.
In conclusion, be thankful that you still get to read lyrics.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Of Death, Doom and Desperation
I'm adversed to sadness. Sadness-anything except for this old favorite which I would, ironically, listen to just to bring a tear to my eye.
Knockin' On Heaven's Door
(Bob Dylan 1973)
Ma, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Ma, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.
Knockin' On Heaven's Door
(Bob Dylan 1973)
Ma, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Ma, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Which Cartoon Character Am I?
A rather lame quiz which I bravely attempted despite having tons of work waiting to be done tonight.
You are Bugs Bunny.
You are fun, friendly and popular. You are a real crowd pleaser. You have probably been out on the town your share of times, yet you come home with the values that your mother taught you. Marriage and children are important to you, but only after you have fun. Don't let the people you please influence you to stray.
P.S: If I stray, it's SOMEONE ELSE'S fault.
What Fruit Am I?
You have selected peach.
Like a peach, you enjoy the juice of life in all its lush ripeness! You are the friendly sort, and are quite frank and outspoken, which adds to your charm. You are quick to forgive and forget, and value friendships highly. You have an independent and ambitious streak that makes you a real go-getter. You are the ideal lover, fiery and passionate but sincere and faithful in love. You don't however like to display all that passion in public.
And Yet Another Quiz Reveals... Curiously Accurate Results
Introspective . . . Sensitive . . . Reflective
You come to grips more frequently and thoroughly with yourself and your environment than do most people. You detest superficiality; you'd rather be alone than have to suffer through small talk. But your relationships with your friends are highly intensive, which give you the inner tranquillity and harmony that you need in order to feel good. However, it is no problem for you to be alone for extended periods of time without becoming bored.
And Another
Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing and always interesting; someone who is constantly the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to your head. They see you also as kind, considerate and understanding; someone who will cheer them up and help them out.
More...
1. You are attracted to those who are: unbridled, untrammeled, free.
2. In the process of courtship, the approach that would make you feel irresistable is: creative, never boring.
3. The impression you would like to give to your lover: stylish.
4. What you hate most in your partner: ruthlessness, cold-bloodedness, irony.
5. The kind of relationship you would like to build with your partner is : both of you can talk about everything and anything, no secrets kept.
6. You care about the society and morality, you won't do anything wrong after marriage.
7. You are afraid of marriage, you think it would take away your freedom.
8. At this moment, you think of love as a committment for both parties.
Last One, in the Good Name of Procrastination
You are an artistic type. Daydreaming is your hobby, but you can achieve what most other people cannot. You are lacking in dedication, but you will work tirelessly towards goals which are to your liking. Money isNOT important. Friends are but only intellectuals and fellow artistic types. You make the best sex partner (!!! Really?? Wow, I'm starting to impress myself...) as you are most willing to explore and please the other partner. Talent is your main strength.
Ooh laa laa...
Now time to get back to work. Pity.
You are Bugs Bunny.
You are fun, friendly and popular. You are a real crowd pleaser. You have probably been out on the town your share of times, yet you come home with the values that your mother taught you. Marriage and children are important to you, but only after you have fun. Don't let the people you please influence you to stray.
P.S: If I stray, it's SOMEONE ELSE'S fault.
What Fruit Am I?
You have selected peach.
Like a peach, you enjoy the juice of life in all its lush ripeness! You are the friendly sort, and are quite frank and outspoken, which adds to your charm. You are quick to forgive and forget, and value friendships highly. You have an independent and ambitious streak that makes you a real go-getter. You are the ideal lover, fiery and passionate but sincere and faithful in love. You don't however like to display all that passion in public.
And Yet Another Quiz Reveals... Curiously Accurate Results
Introspective . . . Sensitive . . . Reflective
You come to grips more frequently and thoroughly with yourself and your environment than do most people. You detest superficiality; you'd rather be alone than have to suffer through small talk. But your relationships with your friends are highly intensive, which give you the inner tranquillity and harmony that you need in order to feel good. However, it is no problem for you to be alone for extended periods of time without becoming bored.
And Another
Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing and always interesting; someone who is constantly the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to your head. They see you also as kind, considerate and understanding; someone who will cheer them up and help them out.
More...
1. You are attracted to those who are: unbridled, untrammeled, free.
2. In the process of courtship, the approach that would make you feel irresistable is: creative, never boring.
3. The impression you would like to give to your lover: stylish.
4. What you hate most in your partner: ruthlessness, cold-bloodedness, irony.
5. The kind of relationship you would like to build with your partner is : both of you can talk about everything and anything, no secrets kept.
6. You care about the society and morality, you won't do anything wrong after marriage.
7. You are afraid of marriage, you think it would take away your freedom.
8. At this moment, you think of love as a committment for both parties.
Last One, in the Good Name of Procrastination
You are an artistic type. Daydreaming is your hobby, but you can achieve what most other people cannot. You are lacking in dedication, but you will work tirelessly towards goals which are to your liking. Money is
Ooh laa laa...
Now time to get back to work. Pity.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Finally...
... an article I can shove in the faces of those who give me the incredulous look when I tell them I went to Macalester College. A typical conversation like this usually follows...
"It's Macalester... A liberal arts college."
"Huh? Mac- what? You studied art??!!"
"Ma-ca-les-ter, in Saint Paul. And no, I did not major in Art. 'Liberal arts is not 'art' as in painting and drawing."
"Oh, St. Paul? Where's that?? Italy???" (Totally ignoring my liberal arts explanation.)
"Umm no, actually it's in Minnesota. Near Minneapolis. You know the Twin Cities?"
(Puzzled-But-Don't Think-I'm-Dumb-Or-What-Coz-I'm-Quite-Sure-I'm-A-Genius Look) "Sounds vaguely familiar...Is it in Greece?"
"It's in USA."
"Ohhh yessss!!! I knew it sounded familiar."
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America's Hot Colleges
Yes, Harvard's on the list. But so are lesser-known schools. Here are our picks for the places creating buzz for 2005-06.
By Jay Mathews
Newsweek
Macalester College, St. Paul, Minn.
The 1,900-student campus in the middle of a vibrant metropolis has become a key recipient of the growing number of Harvard, Yale and Princeton applicants who are rejected for no other reason than that those schools don't have space for all the A-plus applicants. Macalester has one faculty member for every 11 students and an emphasis on international affairs, symbolized by one of its most famous alumni, U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan. The college has six language residences: Chinese, French, German, Japanese, Russian and Spanish. It offers the intimacy of the archetypal small-town campus—in the middle of the Twin Cities. Applications have increased 60 percent since 1995.
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Certainly, it pales in comparison to NUS's No. 18 in The Times - World's Top Universities Ranking. But then again, a liberal arts college isn't a university, is it? And thank god for that. I meant, NUS has to really thank its god for that. :P
Oh man, I just love my funky college.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Lord of the Lians
"Lady of the Lians" would be a more appropriate title, but it doesn't quite effect the same pompousness, which is the whole point of being a true Lian.
In case you feel 'ah-lian-nated' by this choice of topic, let me reassure you that we are all related, in one way or another, to the mighty influential Lian clan. Let me prove it to you:
1) You are a Lian.
2) You are Lian's sister, Huey.
3) You like Lian(s).
4) You like Lian's sister(s), Huey(s).
5) You like both Lian(s) and Huey(s).
6) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Lian.
7) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Huey, who has a friend, Lian.
8) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Lian.
9) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Huey and in turn has a sister, Lian.
10) ...(are you sure you want me to go on?)
Better yet, if you come from Malaysia, you automatically qualify for the prestigious citizenship of the Lian-Bang-dom. **Lian Bang, in Chinese, literally means united states or federal (as in the former Federation of Malaya), and now colloquially used to refer to Malaysia. Hmm, come to think of it, since USA is literally translated to be Mei Guo Lian Bang, US citizens are technically Ang Moh Liew Lians too.
Fellow Singaporeans, do not gloat yet, for even if you do not fall into any of the above categories, there are other signs telling of the Lianster in each one of us.
For example, see if you fit into any of the following:
Your nails are painted in assorted designs and colors. - The Polished Lian
You swear, or are always on the verge of swearing in Hokkien. - The @#$% Lian
You have red or golden streaks in your rebonded hair. - The Laywid-Gan Lian
You and your close gal friends agree to wear similar 'identity clothes' when going out. - The Groupie Lian
You smoke, check yourself in the mirror, and talk on your cellphone at the same time. - The Multi-Tasking Lian
You hang a thousand dangling things on your handbag. - The Ling-Ling-Long-Long-Lian
You say 'Or-Kay' instead of O.K. - The 'Leceived Plonowciation' Lian
You die die must speak slang Engrish even if it ends up sounding like Hainanese. - The Pretends-to-Come-from-L.A.-But-Actually-From-L.A.S-(Lorong Ah Soo) Lian
You are a member or frequent patron of KBox. - The Idol/Superstar Lian
You buy thick metallic bracelets for yor boyfriend. - The Luv-My-Beng Lian
You know the lyrics to any songs by Ritchie Ren, Andy Lau or Spice Girls. - The Top-Hits Lian
You wear mini skirts with platform shoes. - The Hiao Lian
You still wear platform shoes!! - The Passe Lian
The Jacky Wu Show and/or The Simple Life are/is your staple TV diet. - The Tellywood Lian
You frequent nightspots along Mohd Sultan Road or worse, the Chinatown area. - The Get-Drunk-and-Get-Laid-by-Beng Lian
You think a car with a spoiler and F1 decals is cool. - The Initial-D Lian
This Fashion and/or Tommy Hilfilger are/is one of your favorite labels. - The Outlet/Lesigner Lian
Your dream guy rides a loud and fast bike. - The Wind-in-my-Hair-Hands-Around-Beng Lian
You had worn your school uniform such that skirt is super short and the belt is super low. - The Start-Young-In-Convent Lian
You can say all the five Ws. (No! Not 'where', 'when', 'why', 'what', 'who' lah!! The correct answer should be 'wah lao', 'wah piang', 'wah seh', 'wah l_n' and 'wah lamak'.) - The Linguist Lian
You resolve to memorize these pointers to perfect your style. - The Understudy Lian
You ask, "To Lian or not to Lian?" - The Philosophical Lian
You possess all the above qualities but just do not believe in this crap. - The Cynical Lian
You are too high-crass to believe in this crap. - The Hao-Lian
You are Lian and lovin' it! - The Bu-Yao-Lian
The list continues infinitely...
And how do I come up with so much nonsense?
Wah raos, I'm the Lord of the Lians mah!
In case you feel 'ah-lian-nated' by this choice of topic, let me reassure you that we are all related, in one way or another, to the mighty influential Lian clan. Let me prove it to you:
1) You are a Lian.
2) You are Lian's sister, Huey.
3) You like Lian(s).
4) You like Lian's sister(s), Huey(s).
5) You like both Lian(s) and Huey(s).
6) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Lian.
7) You are a Beng, and have a sister, Huey, who has a friend, Lian.
8) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Lian.
9) You are a Beng who has no sisters, but got a brother, Seng, whose girlfriend is a Huey and in turn has a sister, Lian.
10) ...(are you sure you want me to go on?)
Better yet, if you come from Malaysia, you automatically qualify for the prestigious citizenship of the Lian-Bang-dom. **Lian Bang, in Chinese, literally means united states or federal (as in the former Federation of Malaya), and now colloquially used to refer to Malaysia. Hmm, come to think of it, since USA is literally translated to be Mei Guo Lian Bang, US citizens are technically Ang Moh Liew Lians too.
Fellow Singaporeans, do not gloat yet, for even if you do not fall into any of the above categories, there are other signs telling of the Lianster in each one of us.
For example, see if you fit into any of the following:
Your nails are painted in assorted designs and colors. - The Polished Lian
You swear, or are always on the verge of swearing in Hokkien. - The @#$% Lian
You have red or golden streaks in your rebonded hair. - The Laywid-Gan Lian
You and your close gal friends agree to wear similar 'identity clothes' when going out. - The Groupie Lian
You smoke, check yourself in the mirror, and talk on your cellphone at the same time. - The Multi-Tasking Lian
You hang a thousand dangling things on your handbag. - The Ling-Ling-Long-Long-Lian
You say 'Or-Kay' instead of O.K. - The 'Leceived Plonowciation' Lian
You die die must speak slang Engrish even if it ends up sounding like Hainanese. - The Pretends-to-Come-from-L.A.-But-Actually-From-L.A.S-(Lorong Ah Soo) Lian
You are a member or frequent patron of KBox. - The Idol/Superstar Lian
You buy thick metallic bracelets for yor boyfriend. - The Luv-My-Beng Lian
You know the lyrics to any songs by Ritchie Ren, Andy Lau or Spice Girls. - The Top-Hits Lian
You wear mini skirts with platform shoes. - The Hiao Lian
You still wear platform shoes!! - The Passe Lian
The Jacky Wu Show and/or The Simple Life are/is your staple TV diet. - The Tellywood Lian
You frequent nightspots along Mohd Sultan Road or worse, the Chinatown area. - The Get-Drunk-and-Get-Laid-by-Beng Lian
You think a car with a spoiler and F1 decals is cool. - The Initial-D Lian
This Fashion and/or Tommy Hilfilger are/is one of your favorite labels. - The Outlet/Lesigner Lian
Your dream guy rides a loud and fast bike. - The Wind-in-my-Hair-Hands-Around-Beng Lian
You had worn your school uniform such that skirt is super short and the belt is super low. - The Start-Young-In-Convent Lian
You can say all the five Ws. (No! Not 'where', 'when', 'why', 'what', 'who' lah!! The correct answer should be 'wah lao', 'wah piang', 'wah seh', 'wah l_n' and 'wah lamak'.) - The Linguist Lian
You resolve to memorize these pointers to perfect your style. - The Understudy Lian
You ask, "To Lian or not to Lian?" - The Philosophical Lian
You possess all the above qualities but just do not believe in this crap. - The Cynical Lian
You are too high-crass to believe in this crap. - The Hao-Lian
You are Lian and lovin' it! - The Bu-Yao-Lian
The list continues infinitely...
And how do I come up with so much nonsense?
Wah raos, I'm the Lord of the Lians mah!
Professional Procrastinator
Gee, I'm really getting good in my trade. You'd even think that I had a PhD in the arena.
The truth is, it's inborn talent.
Here I am, in front of my PC-dearest, with an empty Word document opened in preparation of some sort of input to an essay that I set out to do 2 weeks ago. And in front of my keyboard is yet an Educational Psychology textbook flipped randomly to a page that says, quite tauntingly, "the effective teacher..."
Along with notes and project guideline handouts strewn across the floor beside my workstation, this tiny mountain-load of work had managed to send a weak pang of guilt and a teenie bit of anxiety to my otherwise very un-enterprising heart.
Even so, I was determined to live up to the good name of Professional Procrastinator. At exactly 2:25am on this uneventful Tuesday morning, when my entire MSN Messenger list retired to bed leaving me with no one to practise the Art with, I had to settle my emotions, collect my thoughts and envision my next step. I start blogging.
Man, I'm good. Me think I should receive honorary mention for my unsurpassed accomplishment at the next National Day Speech.
Yawn...I'm tired. Let's just close that empty Word document, ya?
The truth is, it's inborn talent.
Here I am, in front of my PC-dearest, with an empty Word document opened in preparation of some sort of input to an essay that I set out to do 2 weeks ago. And in front of my keyboard is yet an Educational Psychology textbook flipped randomly to a page that says, quite tauntingly, "the effective teacher..."
Along with notes and project guideline handouts strewn across the floor beside my workstation, this tiny mountain-load of work had managed to send a weak pang of guilt and a teenie bit of anxiety to my otherwise very un-enterprising heart.
Even so, I was determined to live up to the good name of Professional Procrastinator. At exactly 2:25am on this uneventful Tuesday morning, when my entire MSN Messenger list retired to bed leaving me with no one to practise the Art with, I had to settle my emotions, collect my thoughts and envision my next step. I start blogging.
Man, I'm good. Me think I should receive honorary mention for my unsurpassed accomplishment at the next National Day Speech.
Yawn...I'm tired. Let's just close that empty Word document, ya?
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Sorry Wrong Number
Two date invitations in a month. I took a double-take each time and looked left, right and about me before asking, "Me? You sure you got the right person?"
I don't know what's wrong with me. Suddenly, boys take interest in me. Could be the current alignment of planets, but I'd prefer to think that I am 人見人愛,車見車載...
If you, my friend, think that's good news, let me re-emphasize:
"Suddenly, boys take an interest in me."
Not men... not guys... but BOYS. Boys who were still in their PAP kindergarten uniform when I took my PSLE.
Gosh. I'm attracting the wrong age group. Think I'd probably be less distressed if they were lesbians. But boys, I can't handle. You know why? Coz I'm thinking, why the f*** didn't this happen to me when I was still a GIRL??!! That is so not a happy thought.
If I've had the right address, I would definitely write in to the Ministry of Love to complain:
Dear Minister,
I would like to bring to your attention that, very much to my disappointment, the service rendered by your staff was extremely unsatisfactory. The cupid-in-charge of my district had processed my CSM (Come Shoot Me) application 10 years too late. As I have suffered major physical and emotional damages due to his negligence, I expect to be duly compensated for my precious time lost and lack of suitors over the last decade.
Please look into the matter and I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Irrate Single
You laugh, but personally, I think this is tragic. I've done my best to look wise and mature beyond my tiny 1.48m frame, but I fail miserably. Even my latest investment - a pair of copperwire spectacles does not seem to work. To add salt to injury, the optician charged me student rate.
As a final attempt, I shall make an appeal on my blog:
To all my fans out there (only two, actually...), Auntie think you boys are really the cutest, but aunties really prefer uncles.
Updated 12/07 - Come to think of it, no I do not prefer uncles, thank you very much. Younger guys are very much welcomed. Just try not to be cuter than me, please.)
I don't know what's wrong with me. Suddenly, boys take interest in me. Could be the current alignment of planets, but I'd prefer to think that I am 人見人愛,車見車載...
If you, my friend, think that's good news, let me re-emphasize:
"Suddenly, boys take an interest in me."
Not men... not guys... but BOYS. Boys who were still in their PAP kindergarten uniform when I took my PSLE.
Gosh. I'm attracting the wrong age group. Think I'd probably be less distressed if they were lesbians. But boys, I can't handle. You know why? Coz I'm thinking, why the f*** didn't this happen to me when I was still a GIRL??!! That is so not a happy thought.
If I've had the right address, I would definitely write in to the Ministry of Love to complain:
Dear Minister,
I would like to bring to your attention that, very much to my disappointment, the service rendered by your staff was extremely unsatisfactory. The cupid-in-charge of my district had processed my CSM (Come Shoot Me) application 10 years too late. As I have suffered major physical and emotional damages due to his negligence, I expect to be duly compensated for my precious time lost and lack of suitors over the last decade.
Please look into the matter and I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Irrate Single
You laugh, but personally, I think this is tragic. I've done my best to look wise and mature beyond my tiny 1.48m frame, but I fail miserably. Even my latest investment - a pair of copperwire spectacles does not seem to work. To add salt to injury, the optician charged me student rate.
As a final attempt, I shall make an appeal on my blog:
To all my fans out there (only two, actually...), Auntie think you boys are really the cutest, but aunties really prefer uncles.
Updated 12/07 - Come to think of it, no I do not prefer uncles, thank you very much. Younger guys are very much welcomed. Just try not to be cuter than me, please.)
Thursday, July 28, 2005
And I Return
Hypewriter makes a comeback after a hiatus of, uhm, 3 long months.
And now, finally, the day anxious fans have been waiting for...
Date of Worldwide Release: 1st August 2005
Pre-order your copy at a nearest kopitiam, chaphuaydiam or pozuatua near you now!
OK lah, I'm joking. I just have nothing to write about and I'm not going to do a *peanut/kidney/salary article simply for the sake of doing one.
* Singaporeans will know what this is about. For the uninitiated, let's just say that it is a socio-politica-lexica issue involving an ex-Mrs-someone-very-important using the wrong word to describe the wrong wage that was paid out to a wrong guy who spent it on very wrong things and then wanted to wrong the press for reporting him, such that the public is feeling oh-so-very wronged. Get it now?
And now, finally, the day anxious fans have been waiting for...
Date of Worldwide Release: 1st August 2005
Pre-order your copy at a nearest kopitiam, chaphuaydiam or pozuatua near you now!
OK lah, I'm joking. I just have nothing to write about and I'm not going to do a *peanut/kidney/salary article simply for the sake of doing one.
* Singaporeans will know what this is about. For the uninitiated, let's just say that it is a socio-politica-lexica issue involving an ex-Mrs-someone-very-important using the wrong word to describe the wrong wage that was paid out to a wrong guy who spent it on very wrong things and then wanted to wrong the press for reporting him, such that the public is feeling oh-so-very wronged. Get it now?
Blood Type B – The Hunter
Type B's are:
- individualists
- dislike custom
- strong
- optimistic
- creative
- flexible
- wild
- unpredictable
Famous B’s
- Akira Kurosawa
- Paul McCartney
- Mia Farrow
- Leonardo Di Caprio
- Jack Nicholson
In other words, I am selfish, wayward and aggressive, and by the way, also clueless, do many useless things and have no mind of my own. Gee, I happen to be uncivilized and very fickle-minded as well...
Wow, on behalf of Akira, Paul, Mia, Leonardo, Jack and myself, I must really thank whoever wrote this. We are so goddamn flattered!!! B'ers RULE!!!
And now, I am convinced I belong in Hollywood.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
What's with the New Blog URL?
Questions, questions, questions...didn't I tell you to just read?
All right, if you insist.
Reason 1: Previous blog has my full name (as per NRIC, passport, driver's license...) splashed all over, and I figured it'll be tough to keep a low profile should I become suddenly famous, judging on how easy it is to gain fame with a free blog account in Singapore nowadays.
Reason 2: I need a change. I need liberation for bolder writing minus the fear factor (of being sued, being fired, being ignored by neighbors, etc).
Reason 3: To the kids I teach, I'm supposed to be, erm...ideally lah, a commanding presence that strikes unimaginable fear in their teeny weeny hearts. Therefore my students MUST NEVER get to know the real me behind my mighty teacher persona. Otherwise, how to act tough in front of those little monsters, you tell me?
Case closed.
All right, if you insist.
Reason 1: Previous blog has my full name (as per NRIC, passport, driver's license...) splashed all over, and I figured it'll be tough to keep a low profile should I become suddenly famous, judging on how easy it is to gain fame with a free blog account in Singapore nowadays.
Reason 2: I need a change. I need liberation for bolder writing minus the fear factor (of being sued, being fired, being ignored by neighbors, etc).
Reason 3: To the kids I teach, I'm supposed to be, erm...ideally lah, a commanding presence that strikes unimaginable fear in their teeny weeny hearts. Therefore my students MUST NEVER get to know the real me behind my mighty teacher persona. Otherwise, how to act tough in front of those little monsters, you tell me?
Case closed.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Let the Dice Roll!
A lighthearted note from a thinking citizen, on a not-so-lighthearted topic.
Channel U's 9pm newsflash came on while I was surfing away on my PC at the other end of the living room. I had left my TV set on again, mainly for some peripheral sounds to break the lonely silence, and err, perhaps to catch any good shows that might come on. What was I thinking...
Although I do not usually care much for TV news, the newsreader got my attention effortlessly as her voice ringed with importance at every word that she enunciated with gusto. The short bulletin's agenda consisted of mainly the same news that I've already read in the morning papers. However, familiar content aside, something sounded strange to me. I made a quick mental rewind to what I just heard.
It was in Mandarin, and roughly translates as, "Singapore to Build Key Regional Gambling Rehab".
Hmm. If you've been concerned enough about important but boring state affairs to be following the casino episode closely, then surely you might find some inkling of irony in the statement above. Do we want to encourage gambling, or discourage it? Is the rehab a by-product of the gambling industry, or is the casino built to further boost our nation's healthcare pursuits? I suppose the big idea is to attract foreigners to come for an all-in package of sort - spend lots of money, get themselves addicted to gambling, turn to our professionals for medical attention and counseling, then either successfully turning over a new leaf and perhaps start allocating their money to some other businesses in Singapore, or getting itchy fingers once again for the viscous cycle to kick in while we count their cash. Or so I suspect.
Just barely 24 hours ago, our government gave Singapore the green light for an ambitious project to turn Singapore into the new Vegas of the Orient. And now, within this short period of time, newspapers had reported on all the essential issues to be dealt with, followed by more repetition on the TV and radio news. They've basically got everything covered.
The headlines read: "...will ensure 'clean' casino business...will build first-class rehab...will restrict patronage and minimize social ills..." Sounds rather like answers to FAQs often laid out to guide and assure the concerned consumer. It's like as if the decision-makers were thinking, "In case you are wondering, everything is in control."
(General sentiment: Everyone expected the green light anyway, just like how the traffic lights are tuned to surely turn green. In the meantime, the general skeptical public awaits for the red light next to attest to their own good foresight, before eagerly spitting "I told you so"s into the parliament's face.)
So why was I bothered by a simple headline? I reckon it is because, unlike other exciting projects of similar scale, there were no hip-hip-hoorays, no big vision on the better future to be anticipated, not even the slightest excitement felt. Instead, we get constant reminders from mass media on how we can curb this and control that.
First, we will be able to apply for our family members to be blacklisted for entry to the casino, in case they gamble your share of inheritance away. Then, we will impose $100 per entry charge to prevent misers and paupers from winning the rich's hard-earned money. And of course, we must not forget to set up a rehabilitation center, the best no less, to make sure the cash-rich vice-doers have an alternative channel to devote their assets to, come one day when they change their mind about engaging in immoral punting.
Looks like the net has been cast and no fat fish shall escape. Majulah Singapura!
(For the record, I am not for nor against casinos. I am just one of those who enjoy sitting on the fence to watch two camps fight, then shrug and walk away.)
At this juncture, I would like to show my deepest appreciation to all those smart and far-sighted people at Blogger who created the magical 'Recover Post' tool. I committed the unthinkable mistake of clicking on the Publish Post button when my Pay-As-You-Roam internet connection had expired. I hollered in agony and quickly recovered myself, fist in my mouth, to subscribe for more airtime. I was all resigned to my ill-fate and ready to rewrite my post above when I realized that I can recover everything with a click of the mouse. Unbelievable! I've found the will to live, once again.
Channel U's 9pm newsflash came on while I was surfing away on my PC at the other end of the living room. I had left my TV set on again, mainly for some peripheral sounds to break the lonely silence, and err, perhaps to catch any good shows that might come on. What was I thinking...
Although I do not usually care much for TV news, the newsreader got my attention effortlessly as her voice ringed with importance at every word that she enunciated with gusto. The short bulletin's agenda consisted of mainly the same news that I've already read in the morning papers. However, familiar content aside, something sounded strange to me. I made a quick mental rewind to what I just heard.
It was in Mandarin, and roughly translates as, "Singapore to Build Key Regional Gambling Rehab".
Hmm. If you've been concerned enough about important but boring state affairs to be following the casino episode closely, then surely you might find some inkling of irony in the statement above. Do we want to encourage gambling, or discourage it? Is the rehab a by-product of the gambling industry, or is the casino built to further boost our nation's healthcare pursuits? I suppose the big idea is to attract foreigners to come for an all-in package of sort - spend lots of money, get themselves addicted to gambling, turn to our professionals for medical attention and counseling, then either successfully turning over a new leaf and perhaps start allocating their money to some other businesses in Singapore, or getting itchy fingers once again for the viscous cycle to kick in while we count their cash. Or so I suspect.
Just barely 24 hours ago, our government gave Singapore the green light for an ambitious project to turn Singapore into the new Vegas of the Orient. And now, within this short period of time, newspapers had reported on all the essential issues to be dealt with, followed by more repetition on the TV and radio news. They've basically got everything covered.
The headlines read: "...will ensure 'clean' casino business...will build first-class rehab...will restrict patronage and minimize social ills..." Sounds rather like answers to FAQs often laid out to guide and assure the concerned consumer. It's like as if the decision-makers were thinking, "In case you are wondering, everything is in control."
(General sentiment: Everyone expected the green light anyway, just like how the traffic lights are tuned to surely turn green. In the meantime, the general skeptical public awaits for the red light next to attest to their own good foresight, before eagerly spitting "I told you so"s into the parliament's face.)
So why was I bothered by a simple headline? I reckon it is because, unlike other exciting projects of similar scale, there were no hip-hip-hoorays, no big vision on the better future to be anticipated, not even the slightest excitement felt. Instead, we get constant reminders from mass media on how we can curb this and control that.
First, we will be able to apply for our family members to be blacklisted for entry to the casino, in case they gamble your share of inheritance away. Then, we will impose $100 per entry charge to prevent misers and paupers from winning the rich's hard-earned money. And of course, we must not forget to set up a rehabilitation center, the best no less, to make sure the cash-rich vice-doers have an alternative channel to devote their assets to, come one day when they change their mind about engaging in immoral punting.
Looks like the net has been cast and no fat fish shall escape. Majulah Singapura!
(For the record, I am not for nor against casinos. I am just one of those who enjoy sitting on the fence to watch two camps fight, then shrug and walk away.)
At this juncture, I would like to show my deepest appreciation to all those smart and far-sighted people at Blogger who created the magical 'Recover Post' tool. I committed the unthinkable mistake of clicking on the Publish Post button when my Pay-As-You-Roam internet connection had expired. I hollered in agony and quickly recovered myself, fist in my mouth, to subscribe for more airtime. I was all resigned to my ill-fate and ready to rewrite my post above when I realized that I can recover everything with a click of the mouse. Unbelievable! I've found the will to live, once again.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Mess Queen Reigns
I am doing the long-overdue spring-cleaning which should have been done more than 2 months back. Well, I suppose it's alright to do it in April since it is technically still spring time, now that I've all the time in the world.
You cannot imagine how much junk and unidentified objects I've accumulated over the past one year. Actually, I am not quite sure myself, as I am still in the process of uncovering much of it in between TV, blogging and tea-break. Seems like I have to do this every now and then, since my yearly resolution of shopping less and keeping my home neat and tidy had never been fulfilled. Not even once. I have eventually came to terms that I will just have to be Mess Queen for the rest of my life. Title retained for the 28th consecutive year.
My friends, now you know why I never ask you over for dinner.
You cannot imagine how much junk and unidentified objects I've accumulated over the past one year. Actually, I am not quite sure myself, as I am still in the process of uncovering much of it in between TV, blogging and tea-break. Seems like I have to do this every now and then, since my yearly resolution of shopping less and keeping my home neat and tidy had never been fulfilled. Not even once. I have eventually came to terms that I will just have to be Mess Queen for the rest of my life. Title retained for the 28th consecutive year.
My friends, now you know why I never ask you over for dinner.
LV Bags and Me
Anyone who is over 14 years old and knows how to spell the word 'fashion' would be able to understand my blog post title. But in case you cannot quite figure it out yet, LV stands for Louis Vuitton, as in the really-quite-expensive-but-everybody's-carrying-it-I-wonder-if-they're-fake designer brand.
So, what about LV bags and me? Not obsession, not envy, just sadly, my ill-fated lack of destiny to ever be toting one, be it LV, Prada, Fendi or any other incredibly pricy brands ever known to mankind.
I made an astute observation that there are three types of bag carriers in this world. The No-Branders, the Buy-Branders, and the What?-Branders. I belong to the first category of consumers who are less sensitive to 'excellent craftsmanship' and appreciative stares from the masses.
But wait a minute. That does not mean that I am any less fashionable or less shopaholic, although I once commited a dreadful fashion faux pas by carrying supermarket plastic bags onboard a business class flight (but let's forget that, shall we?). It's just a matter of different personal perspectives of cost effectiveness.
Quoting a close friend of mine (Carmen, that's you) who summarized all Category 1-ers' stand, "It's not that we cannot afford it; it's just not worth it." Well-said. No offence to the Category 2-ers who have impeccable taste for good things, we merely place importance to different things. Carmen would probably blow $5K to get herself a Cartier watch, and I, on travel.
But bags. Hmm...I take a minute to ponder. Imagine if for some strange twist of fate, Chinese or Korean designers, instead of Italian ones, made it to the international bag scene, there wouldn't be any LVs around. Instead, we might get initials like BBQ and HIV on our bags (for designers Bao Bing-Quan and Hae-Im Vong respectively, whatever they might mean). So, in that same aspect, why would I want to go around carrying a bag that has some guy's initials all over? Geez, no thanks.
(* In retrospect, maybe I would, if that guy is some terrific fellow. For instance, Marc Jacobs, whose designs shot LV to fame while he struggled to contain his impulse to put his own initials 'MJ' all over the bags instead. But then again, I don't want to carry a bag that might mislead others into thinking that I dig Michael Jackson.)
So there, I'd probably never ever be aquainted with any high-fashon bags. But in case you ever catch me with one, it could be a gift, or that I changed my mind about having people's initials on my belongings. Just try not to think 'fake'.
So, what about LV bags and me? Not obsession, not envy, just sadly, my ill-fated lack of destiny to ever be toting one, be it LV, Prada, Fendi or any other incredibly pricy brands ever known to mankind.
I made an astute observation that there are three types of bag carriers in this world. The No-Branders, the Buy-Branders, and the What?-Branders. I belong to the first category of consumers who are less sensitive to 'excellent craftsmanship' and appreciative stares from the masses.
But wait a minute. That does not mean that I am any less fashionable or less shopaholic, although I once commited a dreadful fashion faux pas by carrying supermarket plastic bags onboard a business class flight (but let's forget that, shall we?). It's just a matter of different personal perspectives of cost effectiveness.
Quoting a close friend of mine (Carmen, that's you) who summarized all Category 1-ers' stand, "It's not that we cannot afford it; it's just not worth it." Well-said. No offence to the Category 2-ers who have impeccable taste for good things, we merely place importance to different things. Carmen would probably blow $5K to get herself a Cartier watch, and I, on travel.
But bags. Hmm...I take a minute to ponder. Imagine if for some strange twist of fate, Chinese or Korean designers, instead of Italian ones, made it to the international bag scene, there wouldn't be any LVs around. Instead, we might get initials like BBQ and HIV on our bags (for designers Bao Bing-Quan and Hae-Im Vong respectively, whatever they might mean). So, in that same aspect, why would I want to go around carrying a bag that has some guy's initials all over? Geez, no thanks.
(* In retrospect, maybe I would, if that guy is some terrific fellow. For instance, Marc Jacobs, whose designs shot LV to fame while he struggled to contain his impulse to put his own initials 'MJ' all over the bags instead. But then again, I don't want to carry a bag that might mislead others into thinking that I dig Michael Jackson.)
So there, I'd probably never ever be aquainted with any high-fashon bags. But in case you ever catch me with one, it could be a gift, or that I changed my mind about having people's initials on my belongings. Just try not to think 'fake'.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
My Chinese Sentiments Exactly
A reliable source confirmed my suspicion that about 1.3 billion Chinese comrades will not be able to access my blog, all thanks to the almighty Great Firewall of China.
(Update 7 Aug'05: Realized my reliable sources are not so reliable after all. The great people of China CAN access Blogspot. It's a miracle that none of them had left me @#%!#& comments yet. Or worse, no one actually reads my blog. Sob!)
This is no big loss to them really, since I do not expect anyone out of that staggering population to be remotely interested in what I have to say, firewall or not. Especially if you consider the fact that out of this figure, only slightly more than 7% has internet access, and of which only a small minority will understand enough English to keep them interested beyond the titles of my articles.
That is, unless I am 'misrepresenting' China, or discussing Japanese books (history textbooks in particular), or quoting (can I say President?) Chen Shui-bian. In other words, unless I am tired of living, which is not what I am about to attempt to be at this very sane moment.
Never mind that actually, I am just quite glad that I did not eventually choose to relocate to Shanghai, being the obsessive blogger that I have become. I imagine I would be devastated to learn of this only upon reaching the bund, and henceforce resort to numbing myself in bamboo steamers of dumplings. However, I will take a moment of silence to weep for all foreigners in China who have been bereft of the right to freedom in the kingdom of WWW. (Especially with you in mind, Ms. Yip. Leave the dumplings alone!)
So, despite living in a tiny island state which an ex-Chinese colleague once remarked as being too small and boring, and that she could not wait to be back in the great modern Shanghai, AND will thus never ever set her dainty foot on sorry reclaimed Singapore soil again, I am quite happy with the way it is here. At least I can come online freely and read about how other bored bloggers wasted their days.
And before you mistake me as being petty or even vengeful about her comment, I must add that I feel very glad for her. Indeed, now that she is back where she belongs, I am sure she is overjoyed and liberated running amok on the Mongolian plains or climbing one of the sacred mountains, where it is not SMALL nor BORING.
Darn, I forgot she can't read this. Wasted.
* Just a disclaimer that I am not targeting this at the entire PRC population. By good fortune, I've got to know many genuinely nice and appreciative Chinese new immigrants who worked hard for Singapore and have embraced the lion city as their second home. What I cannot accept is the attitude of some exceptions who have absolutely no social ettiquette nor respect at all for others' homeland, Singapore or not. Shame on you.
(Update 7 Aug'05: Realized my reliable sources are not so reliable after all. The great people of China CAN access Blogspot. It's a miracle that none of them had left me @#%!#& comments yet. Or worse, no one actually reads my blog. Sob!)
This is no big loss to them really, since I do not expect anyone out of that staggering population to be remotely interested in what I have to say, firewall or not. Especially if you consider the fact that out of this figure, only slightly more than 7% has internet access, and of which only a small minority will understand enough English to keep them interested beyond the titles of my articles.
That is, unless I am 'misrepresenting' China, or discussing Japanese books (history textbooks in particular), or quoting (can I say President?) Chen Shui-bian. In other words, unless I am tired of living, which is not what I am about to attempt to be at this very sane moment.
Never mind that actually, I am just quite glad that I did not eventually choose to relocate to Shanghai, being the obsessive blogger that I have become. I imagine I would be devastated to learn of this only upon reaching the bund, and henceforce resort to numbing myself in bamboo steamers of dumplings. However, I will take a moment of silence to weep for all foreigners in China who have been bereft of the right to freedom in the kingdom of WWW. (Especially with you in mind, Ms. Yip. Leave the dumplings alone!)
So, despite living in a tiny island state which an ex-Chinese colleague once remarked as being too small and boring, and that she could not wait to be back in the great modern Shanghai, AND will thus never ever set her dainty foot on sorry reclaimed Singapore soil again, I am quite happy with the way it is here. At least I can come online freely and read about how other bored bloggers wasted their days.
And before you mistake me as being petty or even vengeful about her comment, I must add that I feel very glad for her. Indeed, now that she is back where she belongs, I am sure she is overjoyed and liberated running amok on the Mongolian plains or climbing one of the sacred mountains, where it is not SMALL nor BORING.
Darn, I forgot she can't read this. Wasted.
* Just a disclaimer that I am not targeting this at the entire PRC population. By good fortune, I've got to know many genuinely nice and appreciative Chinese new immigrants who worked hard for Singapore and have embraced the lion city as their second home. What I cannot accept is the attitude of some exceptions who have absolutely no social ettiquette nor respect at all for others' homeland, Singapore or not. Shame on you.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Inadequately So
Last night, as I sat reading Mr. Monk's blog updates forwarded to me by his fellow Princeton alum, I had solemnly drawn a single conclusion about myself.
I am inadequate.
And the realization sets in stronger with every additional word I read.
I hate to compare, as I truly believe in personal style and fluidity. But sometimes, comparison is not about absolute worth. It is not about being inferior; definitely not about being the lesser nor the fool. It is simply being weighed on a pair of scale and you realize that you are relatively so down there. It really is about someone tracing a visible line around your comfort zone, and you alarmingly realize that it is way too small. So, thank goodness that it happened before you turn claustrophobic in there. Time to space out.
Pardon me for jumping into this turbulent mental journey of reflection. Just like how a tsunami hits the shore, his blog swept me off my feet without warning. Quick and deadly. I am left in a state of semi-shock, semi-awe, and totally inspired.
What is it about this person who had single-handedly deflated my fat writer ego? After all, we had trodden the same academic (and along the way, touristy) path from America to Japan, had equally inspiring karaoke and izakaya moments, and are rather similar in our American-East Asian views. What else could be so impressive and unexpected of someone I thought so familiar?
The value of being still thinking and writing about anything, and everything. At a royal age of 31, yet.
It would probably be less surprising if this is a jolly young undergrad I'm talking about, since we all have our years of being curious and hence terribly energetic and involved. But ten years can do alot to a man, and it is quite disturbing to learn that someone is still obsessively penning personal events and at the same time, engaged in reviewing local and foreign art films, exploring old town charms, expressing views on racial acceptance and historical ambiguity, cataloging travel thoughts, running the usual laps around Central Park, noticing sad synthesized sounds in train stations (whatever that is) and making clever jokes about his own academic career. He has not lost that zest for life.
Sounds exactly like how I want to be.
In some ways, I really dislike being in Singapore, where I have no guts to be different from whom everyone thought they knew I was, no guts to be having it all my own way like how I had it when I lived on my own, thousand of miles away from familiar territory. I've retreated into my former shadow so that I can be marching in step with my peers on the road to 'certified success'.
I sorely dislike the fact that I, now, have zero involvement in anything else than work and can only write about petty, mundane things about myself. I have been subconsciously refraining from passing judgment or making statements on anything more significant than my short, unprolific life. You see, I am becoming more detached with age and I consider that a good thing. Less emotional baggage and more heart to live every moment. No more frustration or anger at social unjust; no tearing my hair out over ridiculous politics or befuddling economics. After all, it's ashes to ashes, as in the Buddha's way to transcendent truth. If I only believed in it.
Alas, I have also become an apathetic bystander at the same time, my head too high in the clouds to feel the nuances and voices of life that surround me. A large part of me is feeling nostalgia for the brash, opinionated and lively self. The old self that I've found in this senpai. O-hisashiburi da.
I am inadequate.
And the realization sets in stronger with every additional word I read.
I hate to compare, as I truly believe in personal style and fluidity. But sometimes, comparison is not about absolute worth. It is not about being inferior; definitely not about being the lesser nor the fool. It is simply being weighed on a pair of scale and you realize that you are relatively so down there. It really is about someone tracing a visible line around your comfort zone, and you alarmingly realize that it is way too small. So, thank goodness that it happened before you turn claustrophobic in there. Time to space out.
Pardon me for jumping into this turbulent mental journey of reflection. Just like how a tsunami hits the shore, his blog swept me off my feet without warning. Quick and deadly. I am left in a state of semi-shock, semi-awe, and totally inspired.
What is it about this person who had single-handedly deflated my fat writer ego? After all, we had trodden the same academic (and along the way, touristy) path from America to Japan, had equally inspiring karaoke and izakaya moments, and are rather similar in our American-East Asian views. What else could be so impressive and unexpected of someone I thought so familiar?
The value of being still thinking and writing about anything, and everything. At a royal age of 31, yet.
It would probably be less surprising if this is a jolly young undergrad I'm talking about, since we all have our years of being curious and hence terribly energetic and involved. But ten years can do alot to a man, and it is quite disturbing to learn that someone is still obsessively penning personal events and at the same time, engaged in reviewing local and foreign art films, exploring old town charms, expressing views on racial acceptance and historical ambiguity, cataloging travel thoughts, running the usual laps around Central Park, noticing sad synthesized sounds in train stations (whatever that is) and making clever jokes about his own academic career. He has not lost that zest for life.
Sounds exactly like how I want to be.
In some ways, I really dislike being in Singapore, where I have no guts to be different from whom everyone thought they knew I was, no guts to be having it all my own way like how I had it when I lived on my own, thousand of miles away from familiar territory. I've retreated into my former shadow so that I can be marching in step with my peers on the road to 'certified success'.
I sorely dislike the fact that I, now, have zero involvement in anything else than work and can only write about petty, mundane things about myself. I have been subconsciously refraining from passing judgment or making statements on anything more significant than my short, unprolific life. You see, I am becoming more detached with age and I consider that a good thing. Less emotional baggage and more heart to live every moment. No more frustration or anger at social unjust; no tearing my hair out over ridiculous politics or befuddling economics. After all, it's ashes to ashes, as in the Buddha's way to transcendent truth. If I only believed in it.
Alas, I have also become an apathetic bystander at the same time, my head too high in the clouds to feel the nuances and voices of life that surround me. A large part of me is feeling nostalgia for the brash, opinionated and lively self. The old self that I've found in this senpai. O-hisashiburi da.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Tribute to True Friends
There are some people really close to my heart. My parents, my sister and brother-in-law, my close-knitted extended family of crazy uncles, adorable aunts and funky cousins, my cat (alright, so technically he does not belong to the 'people' category, and he is actually my sister's cat, but I love him all the same)...
...And the people who understand me best - my St. Nick's galfriends.
Yenpin, Siewhong, Hweehoon and Huayimm. (Plus or minus newly-titled Mrs. Seah-Ng Aishing. We've lost her to Jonathan years ago.)
On second thoughts, make that Yenpin, Siewhong and Hweehoon. (Plus or minus soon-to-be Mrs. Lim-Poh Huayimm too. Lost her to Damien, alas.)
Talk about casualties of love. We'll talk about these blissful people some other time.
So you see, we are pretty much left with a table of 4 whenever we meet, and it is this same foursome whose lofty ideals and exalted visions are so very much in common that we begin to wonder if we are somewhat a weird bunch. So weird that we turn our weekly casual dinner outings into lengthy seminars (at last count, we ended at 4am in the morning) discussing the same old global/national/personal issues that we have been discussing forever, and feeling more hot-blooded each time. Who knows, had it been the olden days, we might have been mass-burnt to death at the stake.
Maybe this is exactly why we made it through 16 years of very supportive, yet undemanding friendship. Or sisterhood, rather. Also sixteen years of being passionate about life. I am so proud of us all.
May we continue to be best friends.
May we continue to serve our people.
May we continue to believe in our ideals.
May we continue to strive for romantic excellence.
May we continue to contribute to the gross revenue of KBox.
Peace.
...And the people who understand me best - my St. Nick's galfriends.
Yenpin, Siewhong, Hweehoon and Huayimm. (Plus or minus newly-titled Mrs. Seah-Ng Aishing. We've lost her to Jonathan years ago.)
On second thoughts, make that Yenpin, Siewhong and Hweehoon. (Plus or minus soon-to-be Mrs. Lim-Poh Huayimm too. Lost her to Damien, alas.)
Talk about casualties of love. We'll talk about these blissful people some other time.
So you see, we are pretty much left with a table of 4 whenever we meet, and it is this same foursome whose lofty ideals and exalted visions are so very much in common that we begin to wonder if we are somewhat a weird bunch. So weird that we turn our weekly casual dinner outings into lengthy seminars (at last count, we ended at 4am in the morning) discussing the same old global/national/personal issues that we have been discussing forever, and feeling more hot-blooded each time. Who knows, had it been the olden days, we might have been mass-burnt to death at the stake.
Maybe this is exactly why we made it through 16 years of very supportive, yet undemanding friendship. Or sisterhood, rather. Also sixteen years of being passionate about life. I am so proud of us all.
May we continue to be best friends.
May we continue to serve our people.
May we continue to believe in our ideals.
May we continue to strive for romantic excellence.
May we continue to contribute to the gross revenue of KBox.
Peace.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Survivor -- Behind the Primary School Gate
The reality of primary school education from the eyes of new teacher who beat the odds to survive the most grueling and challenging race ever...
I am totally flat out at 3:30pm on a Thursday afternoon, unbelievably grateful to be finally home after nine periods of what I think was called 'teaching', and at the same time, sinking deeper and deeper into despair at the thought of being back in school 16 hours later.
From my experience, being Ms. Tan to a class of 35 pre-adolescent rascals in a neighbourhood co-ed primary school (one that admits children from welfare homes, no less) can be potentially live-threatening. It single-handedly tops any other activities that I have ever attempted, to win the dubious honor of being the most exhausting and dangerous.
And by the way, this is only the second day of my ideally-long-and-very-prosperous teaching career.
In case if you think teaching is peasy easy, especially in primary schools, and are wondering what the fuss from us 'incompetent government educators' is about, let me count thy ways:
1) Straight hours of, not talking, but screaming at the top of our voices, usually just to get the children to sit down or shut up.
2) Having to deal with kids who not only do not want to listen, but also constantly do things to disturb their classmates so that any attempt to teach is futile. Examples of the things they do include shouting non-stop like a madman, snatching stationary and chasing each other around the class, walking around the classroom without any purpose or worse, walking out of the classrooms to disturb the students in other classes.
3) Making sure that the noise level is down so that other teachers will not walk over to pass disgusted looks of contempt.
4) Dealing with older foreign students who are either to bored with the syllabus, too shy to speak, or do not understand much English to know what we are talking about. These students are often the ones who will refuse participation, and subsequently get lost in their own worlds while the crazy local kids wreak havoc in class.
5) Not having enough time to get to know students well, nor to give additional attention to the weaker ones, nor even to explain a lesson to someone who had been absent.
6) Having to spark their interest in learning by conducting creative lessons. However, this is not the difficult part. The difficult part is to keep them calm and quiet after we have indeed sparked their interest.
7) Keeping your eyes on what's happening in the classrooms, as well as outside it. Many a times, students will seek permission to go to the toilet only to loiter around and play with students from other classes who also happened to seek permission from other teachers to go to the toilet as well. Sometimes, I wonder if they are part of a bigger syndicate and that they had learnt to synch their watches just like the SWAT team.
8) Trying to be fair and not show any favoritism even though one student is an angel, and the other, clearly a devil.
9) Trying very hard to not laugh when the cheeky ones crack a real funny joke, and having to put a false front and ask what is so funny, sternly in return. (Of course, we are after all human and it is healthy to have a good laugh with the kids. However, it is sane practice not to laugh or even smile AT ALL for the first two months if you want an easy life. Do this at your own peril.)
10) Having to develop a multi-talent ability to teach English Language, Mathematics, Science, Health Education, Social Studies, Art & Craft, Music, PE and God knows what other subjects, not only at the level I am teaching, but also at any levels that I might be required to substitute for in case of teachers being absent.
All these, in lieu of administrative work and other responsibilities which are not required of me at this point of time yet.
So you see, I am totally impressed with teachers who can handle it all, especially those who do it with style.
To teachers out there, I say to you, good job to have lived thus far.
For me, the war is not lost. Although my first days in teaching is much like a surprise attack by the unknown enemy, I am still very much in the battle. All I need is a change of tactics and some medication for my raising BP (blood pressure). The way to longevity in this business, I realized, is to raise your voice and lower your expectations, increase tolerance threshold and decrease emotional attachment. Great. Now I have a perfect plan.
In days to come, I am not sure if I will ever learn to control my class. So maybe I am a little too nice to execute any punishment, a little to short to be considered a fearful figure, and a little to soft to scare with my voice. But I think I like it the way it is. The way I can continue to do my little best to educate these youngsters and chase them for their homework without changing their pesky personalities nor wipe off that naughty cheeky grin. They should be free to play and explore this world with their own minds. What they just need is a mentor. Not another dictator.
I am totally flat out at 3:30pm on a Thursday afternoon, unbelievably grateful to be finally home after nine periods of what I think was called 'teaching', and at the same time, sinking deeper and deeper into despair at the thought of being back in school 16 hours later.
From my experience, being Ms. Tan to a class of 35 pre-adolescent rascals in a neighbourhood co-ed primary school (one that admits children from welfare homes, no less) can be potentially live-threatening. It single-handedly tops any other activities that I have ever attempted, to win the dubious honor of being the most exhausting and dangerous.
And by the way, this is only the second day of my ideally-long-and-very-prosperous teaching career.
In case if you think teaching is peasy easy, especially in primary schools, and are wondering what the fuss from us 'incompetent government educators' is about, let me count thy ways:
1) Straight hours of, not talking, but screaming at the top of our voices, usually just to get the children to sit down or shut up.
2) Having to deal with kids who not only do not want to listen, but also constantly do things to disturb their classmates so that any attempt to teach is futile. Examples of the things they do include shouting non-stop like a madman, snatching stationary and chasing each other around the class, walking around the classroom without any purpose or worse, walking out of the classrooms to disturb the students in other classes.
3) Making sure that the noise level is down so that other teachers will not walk over to pass disgusted looks of contempt.
4) Dealing with older foreign students who are either to bored with the syllabus, too shy to speak, or do not understand much English to know what we are talking about. These students are often the ones who will refuse participation, and subsequently get lost in their own worlds while the crazy local kids wreak havoc in class.
5) Not having enough time to get to know students well, nor to give additional attention to the weaker ones, nor even to explain a lesson to someone who had been absent.
6) Having to spark their interest in learning by conducting creative lessons. However, this is not the difficult part. The difficult part is to keep them calm and quiet after we have indeed sparked their interest.
7) Keeping your eyes on what's happening in the classrooms, as well as outside it. Many a times, students will seek permission to go to the toilet only to loiter around and play with students from other classes who also happened to seek permission from other teachers to go to the toilet as well. Sometimes, I wonder if they are part of a bigger syndicate and that they had learnt to synch their watches just like the SWAT team.
8) Trying to be fair and not show any favoritism even though one student is an angel, and the other, clearly a devil.
9) Trying very hard to not laugh when the cheeky ones crack a real funny joke, and having to put a false front and ask what is so funny, sternly in return. (Of course, we are after all human and it is healthy to have a good laugh with the kids. However, it is sane practice not to laugh or even smile AT ALL for the first two months if you want an easy life. Do this at your own peril.)
10) Having to develop a multi-talent ability to teach English Language, Mathematics, Science, Health Education, Social Studies, Art & Craft, Music, PE and God knows what other subjects, not only at the level I am teaching, but also at any levels that I might be required to substitute for in case of teachers being absent.
All these, in lieu of administrative work and other responsibilities which are not required of me at this point of time yet.
So you see, I am totally impressed with teachers who can handle it all, especially those who do it with style.
To teachers out there, I say to you, good job to have lived thus far.
For me, the war is not lost. Although my first days in teaching is much like a surprise attack by the unknown enemy, I am still very much in the battle. All I need is a change of tactics and some medication for my raising BP (blood pressure). The way to longevity in this business, I realized, is to raise your voice and lower your expectations, increase tolerance threshold and decrease emotional attachment. Great. Now I have a perfect plan.
In days to come, I am not sure if I will ever learn to control my class. So maybe I am a little too nice to execute any punishment, a little to short to be considered a fearful figure, and a little to soft to scare with my voice. But I think I like it the way it is. The way I can continue to do my little best to educate these youngsters and chase them for their homework without changing their pesky personalities nor wipe off that naughty cheeky grin. They should be free to play and explore this world with their own minds. What they just need is a mentor. Not another dictator.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Busy Me
It has been a crazy period for me and I never saw it coming. How was I to know that on the very evening of my last day at work, I would receive a brand new task. Oh yeah, and what a task it was.
I was to be (gulp!) a puppy-sitter. All thanks to my dear sister who is determined not to let my free time go wasted. She bought a 3-month old female golden retriever pup and wanted me to help out with it for this transition period. Her name is Lexi and I shall write about her later.
Now, all I want to do is to give an update on my days ahead, in case anyone of you reads my blog for the latest E-news ('E' for Ei-Lin, 'E' for Erika).
1) I will be spending alot of puppy-sitting time at my sister's apartment which, heaven forbid, does not have LAN or cable connection for some heart-breaking reason. I will have to put up with her slow dial-up service and laptop combination for my internet access. Hence, I might either be offline on MSN Messenger/Yahoo! IM, or you'll see me logging in and out alot.
2) I might be writing less in this blog for the time being. I have started another blog on my pending trip to Japan and I will probably be spending all my time doing research and writing about it. Here's the link if you are interested: http://ikooyo.blogspot.com
(Update 6/5/2005 : I've shut the blog for now as there is too much information to organize before posting. Will try to reopen it soon.)
(Updated again 19/7/2005: Not going to happen. I've realized, for the first time in my life, that time is such a luxury. Instead, I will be devoting whatever limited time I have online to the more satisfying activity of paying bills over internet banking. Gee, see how important that little yellow word is to me that I had no choice but use it three times over...)
3) My formal teaching position with MOE starts in July. For the few months from now till then, I will do some relief teaching. The application has been approved, and I will have to call up the schools to find a position. Maybe later. After all, I have not had a single day of proper rest yet!
Alright, I think this is about all that I can muster for now. I need some sleep...
I was to be (gulp!) a puppy-sitter. All thanks to my dear sister who is determined not to let my free time go wasted. She bought a 3-month old female golden retriever pup and wanted me to help out with it for this transition period. Her name is Lexi and I shall write about her later.
Now, all I want to do is to give an update on my days ahead, in case anyone of you reads my blog for the latest E-news ('E' for Ei-Lin, 'E' for Erika).
1) I will be spending alot of puppy-sitting time at my sister's apartment which, heaven forbid, does not have LAN or cable connection for some heart-breaking reason. I will have to put up with her slow dial-up service and laptop combination for my internet access. Hence, I might either be offline on MSN Messenger/Yahoo! IM, or you'll see me logging in and out alot.
2) I might be writing less in this blog for the time being. I have started another blog on my pending trip to Japan and I will probably be spending all my time doing research and writing about it. Here's the link if you are interested: http://ikooyo.blogspot.com
(Update 6/5/2005 : I've shut the blog for now as there is too much information to organize before posting. Will try to reopen it soon.)
(Updated again 19/7/2005: Not going to happen. I've realized, for the first time in my life, that time is such a luxury. Instead, I will be devoting whatever limited time I have online to the more satisfying activity of paying bills over internet banking. Gee, see how important that little yellow word is to me that I had no choice but use it three times over...)
3) My formal teaching position with MOE starts in July. For the few months from now till then, I will do some relief teaching. The application has been approved, and I will have to call up the schools to find a position. Maybe later. After all, I have not had a single day of proper rest yet!
Alright, I think this is about all that I can muster for now. I need some sleep...
Sunday, March 06, 2005
My Love Horoscope Says...
You are pretty persuasive on paper, and quite articulate. But the moment you see you-know-who, you turn into a stuttering mess. Maybe you should put your thoughts in a note.
Why didn't they say this earlier? I could have started sending out love notes 10 years ago. Darn.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Life's Simple Pleasures
A cup of hot tea, some warm bread and a good companion.
That's all you need for a perfect Sunday morning.
Causeway Bay, Hong Kong
Spring, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Ooo, That Lovely Green Dress
I cannot resist hanging the green dress out as the title of this entry.
It was what Brazilian singer Cibelle wore when I watched her perform at The Esplanade Concert Hall last Saturday evening. The minute she skipped barefooted onstage, I whispered to my cousin Yingying, " Wow, I want to know where she bought that dress from."
OK, that was my second impression for the night. The first came from stepping into the concert hall for the first time. It was new, stark and frankly-speaking, quite boring, unlike aged and embellished concert halls in older cities. However, I quite liked it. It was large enough for make an impression, and small enough to feel adequately near to the action on stage. The roof was extended upward for better acoustics I believe, and the reverberation chambers complete the classic 'concert hall' look. And most of all, it carried the bold vision of a culturally apathetic nation toward a new era of artistic excellence. Shame on you if you laugh it off as government bollocks. We have to start somewhere.
Now back to the concert: Cibelle-Brasil Novo. I didn't know what to expect, only being drawn to the performance by pamphlet key words like bossa nova and samba, which I adore for their sexiness in vastly different ways. If music was metamorphosed into woman, bossa would be a quietly forlorn but seductive damsel, and samba would be a hot, energetic and passionate lover.
In the end, I was treated to a hip mix of not only bossa nova and samba, but a whole lot of soul, jazz, electronica and a dash of rock'n roll amidst well-timed comic ditzyness from the hyperactive Brazilian lass, who at one point of time, stopped to take a photo for her band members. She worked her way to the climax with some serious display of vocal prowess and her band's music-making versatility in several Portuguese numbers, then danced in a trance-like manner for English number titled Train, before plunging into the deep dark emotions of 60's classic Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me) for a parting shot.
Cibelle has a wonderful voice and as I later found out, touted to be Brazil's new hot talent equally deserving of kudos lavished on Nora Jones and Diana Krall. She is good in both languages and composes her own songs, which make clever use of studio and stage equipment to create exotic mixes, loops and beats for aesthetically pleasing music. She used two microphones at the same time for different sound effects, and her naked feet worked nimbly at the buttons on her two high-tech toys that did instant makeover of her music. All done while singing and prancing around. You can see that I am duly impressed.
My favorite number for the night was a Portuguese song about drinking. It says "Water is bad for your health". No wonder she was so high the whole time. By the end of the 90-minute concert, I was high too. Too bad there wasn't a dance floor and a water bar. And too bad I never got to ask about that lovely dress.
It was what Brazilian singer Cibelle wore when I watched her perform at The Esplanade Concert Hall last Saturday evening. The minute she skipped barefooted onstage, I whispered to my cousin Yingying, " Wow, I want to know where she bought that dress from."
OK, that was my second impression for the night. The first came from stepping into the concert hall for the first time. It was new, stark and frankly-speaking, quite boring, unlike aged and embellished concert halls in older cities. However, I quite liked it. It was large enough for make an impression, and small enough to feel adequately near to the action on stage. The roof was extended upward for better acoustics I believe, and the reverberation chambers complete the classic 'concert hall' look. And most of all, it carried the bold vision of a culturally apathetic nation toward a new era of artistic excellence. Shame on you if you laugh it off as government bollocks. We have to start somewhere.
Now back to the concert: Cibelle-Brasil Novo. I didn't know what to expect, only being drawn to the performance by pamphlet key words like bossa nova and samba, which I adore for their sexiness in vastly different ways. If music was metamorphosed into woman, bossa would be a quietly forlorn but seductive damsel, and samba would be a hot, energetic and passionate lover.
In the end, I was treated to a hip mix of not only bossa nova and samba, but a whole lot of soul, jazz, electronica and a dash of rock'n roll amidst well-timed comic ditzyness from the hyperactive Brazilian lass, who at one point of time, stopped to take a photo for her band members. She worked her way to the climax with some serious display of vocal prowess and her band's music-making versatility in several Portuguese numbers, then danced in a trance-like manner for English number titled Train, before plunging into the deep dark emotions of 60's classic Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me) for a parting shot.
Cibelle has a wonderful voice and as I later found out, touted to be Brazil's new hot talent equally deserving of kudos lavished on Nora Jones and Diana Krall. She is good in both languages and composes her own songs, which make clever use of studio and stage equipment to create exotic mixes, loops and beats for aesthetically pleasing music. She used two microphones at the same time for different sound effects, and her naked feet worked nimbly at the buttons on her two high-tech toys that did instant makeover of her music. All done while singing and prancing around. You can see that I am duly impressed.
My favorite number for the night was a Portuguese song about drinking. It says "Water is bad for your health". No wonder she was so high the whole time. By the end of the 90-minute concert, I was high too. Too bad there wasn't a dance floor and a water bar. And too bad I never got to ask about that lovely dress.
Jazz Do It
I am a hard-core jazz fan, and to me, last Sunday's 'All That Shanghai Jazz' concert, was simply marvelous.
Save for some distracting lack-lustre vocals from the girls, the nite was an exhilarating musical roller-coaster ride with some of China's best young musicians, including flamboyant male vocalist Coco Zhao Ke.
While improvisation was kept to a minimum, these fresh blood gave grand old Shanghai jazz a refreshing revival through lively and energetic expression, at the same time retaining the Big-Band charm of the golden era.
I particularly enjoyed the rendition of trumpets and violin, which were also clearly the star instruments of the night. However, if you explored a little deeper into the ritzy excitement of the night's music, you will be utterly smitten with the stoic piano performance, and whole-heartedly captivated by the deep soulful pizzicato double bass.
It was a pity that the musicians did not have more solo time to demonstrate their exceptional skills and creativity in improvisions. Perhaps they should cut down on the vocals, as the original Shanghai-style stage singing really did not do justice to such brilliant music-making. The exception being Coco's smooth, strong but sensual voice, which held the whole performance together and made it memorable. I'll give him a standing ovation if I was watching in a warmer audience.
Although Shanghai oldies are familiar tunes to most, jazz is still not widely appreciated in Singapore, and that might account for the lukewarm reception. I noticed a large number of older audience who probably bought tickets without realizing that the oldies were to be done with jazzy, and hence rather offbeat arrangement. I have a feeling they would be left quite unimpressed by the noisy and messy music, while the real jazz-lovers could have missed this fabulous outing due to its Huayi - Chinese Festival of Arts 2005 branding typically associated with traditional Chinese heritage.
Who would have thought jazz is quite so universal?
Save for some distracting lack-lustre vocals from the girls, the nite was an exhilarating musical roller-coaster ride with some of China's best young musicians, including flamboyant male vocalist Coco Zhao Ke.
While improvisation was kept to a minimum, these fresh blood gave grand old Shanghai jazz a refreshing revival through lively and energetic expression, at the same time retaining the Big-Band charm of the golden era.
I particularly enjoyed the rendition of trumpets and violin, which were also clearly the star instruments of the night. However, if you explored a little deeper into the ritzy excitement of the night's music, you will be utterly smitten with the stoic piano performance, and whole-heartedly captivated by the deep soulful pizzicato double bass.
It was a pity that the musicians did not have more solo time to demonstrate their exceptional skills and creativity in improvisions. Perhaps they should cut down on the vocals, as the original Shanghai-style stage singing really did not do justice to such brilliant music-making. The exception being Coco's smooth, strong but sensual voice, which held the whole performance together and made it memorable. I'll give him a standing ovation if I was watching in a warmer audience.
Although Shanghai oldies are familiar tunes to most, jazz is still not widely appreciated in Singapore, and that might account for the lukewarm reception. I noticed a large number of older audience who probably bought tickets without realizing that the oldies were to be done with jazzy, and hence rather offbeat arrangement. I have a feeling they would be left quite unimpressed by the noisy and messy music, while the real jazz-lovers could have missed this fabulous outing due to its Huayi - Chinese Festival of Arts 2005 branding typically associated with traditional Chinese heritage.
Who would have thought jazz is quite so universal?
Lights, Music, Action!
Culturally, my life is on a roll. I am playing on my piano again after a regretful hiatus of almost 14 years, and visited The Esplanade for two brilliant concerts in one single weekend. Somewhere in my brain, specifically the music department (if there ever was one), is now buzzing with neural activity telling me that if I don't feed it with some Do-Ray-Mi soon, I would be lucky to even have a handful of dead cells left in there.
One thing about me is my extremities. I enjoy music. All sorts except for maybe heavy metal, not because I do not like heavy metal, with due respect, but because I would very much prefer heavy metal to be what it really is - you know, not light but heavy, not wood but metal. THAT kind of heavy metal. It's really quite useful, for building ships, making anchors etc. OK, sorry I am digressing...
Somehow, despite my enthusiasm for harmony, rhythm and melody, I find music rather annoying when I hear it incessantly. It gives me a headache. To make it easier for you to understand how my brain works, imagine it to be a radio. There must be a specific time and frequency for me to tune in to music, otherwise it is just but jarring radio static. To me, music is an occasion. An event. A Celebration. Or simply a mood. You simply can't have an event or a celebration or a mood going on the whole while in the background. It has got to be special.
So yeah, I consider my minimal time spent idyllically on my piano bench quite a special event. I'd play my favorite pieces and practise my scales, immersing in the music that comes with every movement of my fingers, arms and body. Best of all it brings me back to my lovely childhood days spent doing exactly the same thing.
To that, I say, " God Bless Music". Or rather, "God Bless the Occasional Music".
One thing about me is my extremities. I enjoy music. All sorts except for maybe heavy metal, not because I do not like heavy metal, with due respect, but because I would very much prefer heavy metal to be what it really is - you know, not light but heavy, not wood but metal. THAT kind of heavy metal. It's really quite useful, for building ships, making anchors etc. OK, sorry I am digressing...
Somehow, despite my enthusiasm for harmony, rhythm and melody, I find music rather annoying when I hear it incessantly. It gives me a headache. To make it easier for you to understand how my brain works, imagine it to be a radio. There must be a specific time and frequency for me to tune in to music, otherwise it is just but jarring radio static. To me, music is an occasion. An event. A Celebration. Or simply a mood. You simply can't have an event or a celebration or a mood going on the whole while in the background. It has got to be special.
So yeah, I consider my minimal time spent idyllically on my piano bench quite a special event. I'd play my favorite pieces and practise my scales, immersing in the music that comes with every movement of my fingers, arms and body. Best of all it brings me back to my lovely childhood days spent doing exactly the same thing.
To that, I say, " God Bless Music". Or rather, "God Bless the Occasional Music".
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