Crush
ARGH. Ridiculous. Ludicrous.
This is just plain ridiculous. You know, it's times like these that make me pine for the simplicity of my single sex secondary and primary schools. To a certain extent it seems like my old-time apprehension towards girls is actually founded on something other than prejudice. They sometimes have the stranges conceptions of romance and inter-gender relationships.
Arh...I hate dealing with crushes. It's queer, really, how I don't know what a crush is myself, but I'm learning to identify the symptoms in others. And it's kind of worrying, considering that with the present identified criteria, more people than I expected have "crushes" on me. And it's annoying, now that I know about it, to have to deal with it and get rid of any unfounded impressions. In this instance, the bliss of ignorance would only have been temporary, amplifying the chaos when the pretense finally fails, but I can't help it. I look back with renewed nostalgia to the times when all relationships were platonic and simple. When you didn't have to worry so much about what others think and feel, because guys are more emotionally resilient. Really.
It's really frustrating...from the middle of last year, when I discovered that I have no idea how to handle things like these, every time something that bears even a passing resemblance to a crush has sparked off all kinds of paranoid sirens and alarms. It's not only the anxiety of facing a new experience. But it's the prospect that whoever it is that's suffering from the crush is putting herself (or himself, for the matter) to an uncomfortable extent at my mercy. If it's supposed to be a sign of devotion, to open yourself up to seem so spectacularly and tragically vulnerable, it really doesn't work. I mean, how can you concentrate on affection (if there is any at all) if you're trying not to hurt the other person?
And that is what I'm always trying to do...not to hurt the other person, at least not in an irreparable way. It's ridiculous. I really have no interest in pursuing anyone's crush right now, but I can't just let them drop because my conscience dictates that I must avoid hurting anyone, because I still respect them even if I'm not caught up hopelessly in the throes of passion. As far as possible, to gently strip away all pretense, to somehow deliver the crushing knock on the house of cards that an intense passion can create while providing a means with which the other party can pick herself up afterwards. But how do I do it, when the other party is determined to get as close as possible, as fast as possible, and, as it seems, to throw herself with as much abandon as possible onto the railway tracks of my romantic indifference?
Urgh. Ridiculous, what crushes can put people through. But maybe I'm taking things too seriously again. People say crushes are harmless in the long run. But it certainly feels like life and death now. And I really don't want the stress of dealing with another person's vulnerability, especially with so many other things that I would very much rather think about. And if I ruthlessly throw her off, and break her heart (to use a cliche), we'd probably never cross paths again, which limits my own liability. But therein lies the problem, doesn't it? Any ruthlessness would be unjustified, at least at this point. It's most inconvenient and inconsiderate of crushers, to impose their influence on me so completely and overwhelmingly. It's my weakness, my caring for other people.
Pui Man would agree with that too. It's almost spooky, how she can come up with such an accurate diagnosis of my problem. My philosophy of being nice to everyone seems to have the tendency to create situations like this, when the wrong impression gets given to the wrong people. And I guess if I'd faced female conundrums earlier in life, then we wouldn't have to read this entry right now. It's a mixture of my personality and my inexperience that makes me so vulnerable to other people's vulnerability. On one level, I'm repulsed at this kind of baring oneself to another, this premature commitment to nothing much in reality. But on another level, there is pity, I guess. The desire to be as gentle as possible to help the other party through her malaise. But then that has the risk of making it worse, rather than better.
My traditional cure for anything like this? Frankness. But that is sometimes incompatible with gentleness. But at the same time, if one desires that level of intimacy, then one must be prepared to face the naked truth. In an ideal situation, a romantic connection would develop over time, with mutual consent. Right now I don't consent to any romantic connection. It must be the fiercely independant male in me talking. But the conventions of romantic relationships are just annoying, really, and wholly superfluous. I'd much rather have friendships nurtured over time, and perhaps a select few who have soulmate status. It takes time for one to become comfortable in another's presence, and the ultimate weakness of crushes is that they tend to jump the gun to a situation for which neither party is really prepared to handle, to create expectations for each other that are not based on realistic experience learned over time.
And that is why, though she purports to be only after friendship, I'm still ambivalent. Forcing an admission of the crush situation out of her may not have been a good idea, but at least that ambiguity has been cleared out. The thing is that this friendship is too sudden, too premature, to be lasting. Impatience is fatal to commitment. And anyway, in my experience, the most lasting relationships are the ones that are platonic. Which is why I still prefer all male scenarios sometimes, and why I see romance as a threat and a regression, rather than taking the next step, in a close friendship. This so-called "love" thing has somehow been reduced to a label, when in effect, when one strips away the frills and the pretensions, one is left only with a friendship of total mutual trust.
In short, crushes are quite unpleasant for me...I'd rather everyone just be friends, but if one insists, then I shall be forced to deny as gently as I can. I'd rather not hurt anyone, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather dispel any erroneous notions now than create a situation for calamity later.
But as a disclaimer, that's not to say that I'm putting myself on celibacy forever. Heh, there really is no way to avoid them...they form half of the Earth's population, after all. And for the most part, it's no problem to maintain platonic relationships with girls...in some ways it really is easier to start friendships with you Venusians =P And I guess this is a phase in social growth as well, as valuable as experience as anything else, a way to arm myself against similar occurences in the future. I guess, at the risk of sounding egoistic, it was bound to happen sooner or later =P I just hope that it all ends off without too much bloodshed, and with both of us all the wiser for it...
* * * * *
Arh rats...a part of me still thinks that I've let something potentially good go. But how will you know, really, what you are forfeiting? And anyway, as a rule I try to avoid second guessing myself. And the current situation does offset it somewhat. Why did I give it up? Partly because the whole relationship was already coloured by this morning, and partly because I feel secure right now. It's easier to give something up when you know that all you have to do to get it again is to extend a welcoming hand. Which, in this instance, is unfortunately not likely to be forthcoming.
And yet...what have I done? I'll probably never know.
Hotel Rwanda
Bah somethingood refuses to rest in peace. Just spent the entire Saturday typing out lists upon lists of CIP logs. Well, not the whole Saturday...spent dinner with family celebrating Greg's birthday at Takodachi, Clara's mum's place. That was cool. But that was just a respite from the torrent of purely mind-numbing admin work that constitutes the housekeeping that we neglected to do during the event itself. It really is coming back to haunt us. The moral of the story - always plan ahead, if you're leading.
Anyway...enough about that. I'm snatching a few minutes between the CIP hours of the buskers and sleep to write here. Friday was a great day. Went back to HC again, but the people were having S papers, so I couldn't crash immediately. Discovered that their junior batch not only contains Isaac, but Matthew as well. Definitely an intriguing little entourage from a really varied selection of CHS guys. But rather than hang around outside their classroom in my brilliantly white uniform, I thought it wiser to go visit the old teachers back in CHS.
Spent quite a while chatting with Mr. Liew, who, unfortunately, has decided that he has enough of teaching. It's a pity, really...it seems like the really good and forward-thinking teachers are also the ones that can stand teaching the least. I guess I just count myself lucky that I did get the chance to be taught by him at all. Anyway, while Purvis becomes allegedly less and less religious as he grows older, Liew is heading directly towards faith. Maybe it's a passing phase, but it's interesting how different people respond to teaching. And if two of my own teachers have told me not to teach, I wonder if I should still cling to my first ambition. Anyway, the old school hasn't changed much...Ms. Ong still looks the same, maybe a bit thinner. Mr. Liew seems to smile more now. But the biggest change was the sec 4s running around in HC uniform, which was distinctly strange.
You know, when you go back to a place that holds so many memories, nostalgia makes you see lots of small things. I never noticed how the school commanded such an impressive view of the surroundings. And they installed metal grilles leading to the staff room. And for some strange reason, the sun seems less hot and glaring when in CHS. Maybe it's just because the white paint of RJ reflects way too much sunlight. The pastels and earth tones of HC and CHS are kinder on the eyes. And while RJ can get really hot, CHS never gets more than...warm. Shorts do have their practical applications after all =P
When I finally entered the classroom, it was a bit funny, cos practically no one could believe that I was back two weeks in a row. One of their juniors refused to believe that I was a senior (their juniors seem to be much bolder and more frank...definitely a Huazhong trait), and no one believed that I was just crashing for fun. Heh, is it so hard to think that sometimes, I do prefer to see old friends again? And with the two schools so close by now, the change of environment every Friday is something definitely to be appreciated. Anyway, I enjoy being in their class; it's nice to have this unrestricted access - and why should it be restricted, anyway? And there's always Joel to keep up with =P They were asking me to stick around for Lit Wing, and I seriously wanted to just to see what another writing club was like, but S papers got in the way. Heh, I guess the most I can do is to crash their Lit or Hist S at 12.40 =P The more perspectives, the better!
After S, went to watch Hotel Rwanda. It's a fantastic movie! Everyone, go watch it as soon as possible! It's absolutely stunning in terms of subject matter and approach. There is the shock element of the gore of genocide and the mass massacres and blatant violence, but the movie's strength lies in its faithful portrayal of the response of humans to these extenuating circumstances. The shrewd pragmatism of the main character, trying to save his family and as many as he can from the genocide, is amazing to watch, and makes his eventual breakdown to the sheer horror of the situation all the more wrenching. The indifference of the outside world to the Rwandan genocide is portrayed to incisive effect, and I have to say that it is really uncomfortable to hate the West on the behalf of the Rwandans, and then remember that I am technically part of the West.
Memorable moments (WARNING - SPOILERS!)...the garbled radio voiceovers with a devilish overtone and sibilance as the main character drives through the black streets of Kigali on the night when the killing starts, the Rwandans' grim dignity in the face of the pullout of the foreign troops protecting them, the hotel porters sheltering escaping Europeans from the storm on the way to their armed convoy, the French missionaries forced to leave behind Rwandan nuns and children by the French evacuation troops, the main character driving a van down a foggy road and rolling over bumps and pulling over, getting out to trip over a mound of dead bodies, and the fog evaporating to reveal the entire stretch of road carpeted with corpses, the main character tying a Western tie too tight around his own neck and crumbling to the despair, the candlelit dinner on the roof of the hotel with machinegun fire in the background, the moment when it seemed like the family of the main character had committed suicide, and the feel-good moment when all the Hotel refugees cross over to rebel-secured territory.
It was a really strong film, with a definite and clear agenda, and done with such style and finesse as to exacerbate the audience's repulsion to the murder and the indifference of the outside world. Its focus on individuals shows how the main character tries to buy time in the hope of Western intervention by paying off all the factions in the conflict, how the beleaguered and understaffed UN colonel tries to maintain peace with 300 troops, how the exhausted Red Cross worker risks her life bringing refugees to the effervescent safety of the Hotel. How the main character's son witnesses a massacre that the audience does not see (reversed dramatic irony) and is painfully traumatised. It's a story about how ordinary people, abandoned by everyone else, try to survive and escape the madness that is the Rwandan genocide.
If this had come out during the time of the Rwandan crisis, I would have been moved to do something. But things like this can only come out after the fact, and as the movie shows, help from the outside can only be obtained if there is a personal connection. And that brings to mind the current situation. Seeing the news, I feel that I want to help the people in the Darfur and the Indian Ocean Basin. But because there is no personal connection between my life and their tragedy, the want is not strong enough to overcome the excuse of distance. Just as we can't understand what they are going through until we go there for ourselves, my help doesn't go beyond moral and emotional support (praying, the like, easy and safe things). It's just the easiest thing to do, to express moral indignation, and then conveniently hide behind spatial or contrived separations. That's what we do all the time. But tellingly, in Hotel Rwanda, the self-interested pragmatism of the main character is precisely the thing that enables him to help 1269 refugees to safety.
The movie is significant in itself, but it's more significant in relation to the real world. The full impact of what I saw on Friday hasn't finished sinking in yet. And that's why I think everyone should go have a gander at it.
Drama
A quick update for today. Heh maths is getting quite convoluted, what with integration by substitution. It's quite scary, considering that you have to remember to change so many things when substituting in a new variable. And seeing how you have to factorise by all sorts of crazy terms to force the integration into surrendering its stubbornness and assume a recognisable form, it's quite inelegant I think. If seeing how integrating secx+tanx gives you a ln is like a glimpse of God (awesome in its brutal beauty), then integration by factorisation is like a bulldozer building a highway through the Garden of Eden.
We also celebrated Kay Hwee's birthday today, albeit belatedly cos he was out of the country on the actual day. Hehheh, it's the first time I've seen everyone trying to pull off a surprise party for a guy. The last time was for Ling, and I think this time wouldn't have happened had it not been for the girls. After all, why would guys think to do things like this to one another? Bondage, yes. Taupok, even. But a surprise party? Am I the only one to think that conceptualising a thing like this is queer? =P Thank God, then, for the female sex, and the viewpoints that they impose on us hapless males =P
Anyway, went down to VJ today to see Grace and the stage. Wow...the stage is enormous. And what a huge amount of lights! And there must be at least eight hundred seats in that theatre! And to think that the entire stage will be at our disposal, and the piece will effectively be for the benefit of only one man - Mr. Pimm, the TSD examiner. How luxurious is this? Anyway, we spent a while measuring the acting space, because we realise that we can't possibly use the entirety of that enormous stage. And figured out how to lower the light bars and close the curtains partly to create a smaller space, which will be more manageable for our limited manpower. So now I have an idea of the kind of space I'm working with (9m X 4.5m X 4m), and the kind of resources I have at my disposal (TSD is really really luxurious!).
Crashed Grace's group piece discussion. Apparently she's part of this group who's planning to do an absurdist piece in the black box. Hehheh, personally I don't really like absurdism...more often than not absurdist theatre is an excuse to showcase acting talent with no plot or props support. Inasmuch as absurdism tends to overglorify the actor over everything else, it's not something that I like. And anyway, even if you do want to make the point that human life has no underlying order or absolute purpose, the stripping away of conventional plot connections and dramatic devices has to be done tastefully, and ironically, to achieve some sort of artistic purpose.
Anyway, they had this concept of a gameboard for a stage, and the game pieces are the actors who are moving around in an office environment, as determined by the throw of a large die. That's cool as a staging concept, but the question is, of course, why? Why a gameboard? Why an office? And why a die? I suggested that they use their setup to make a commentory on predestination, that the play starts out with the conventional absurdist view that nothing links and there is no supreme order, but as it progresses, the die is revealed to be weighted, and signs of a "hidden hand" become more apparent. I was thinking of using absurdism ironically. The other idea was to use the gameboard concept to comment on family politics, but that wouldn't have been absurdist.
They took to it quite well actually, much better than I expected, considering that I am an outsider. I was really expecting them to display the protectiveness that CHS scriptwriters and actors had over their works. Directing Edrama was a challenge because you had to earn everyone's trust before they'd agree to defer to you. But these people...maybe they really wanted some kind of conceptual justification for their chosen dramatic technique, but the ease of my suggestions being accepted was a tad discomfiting. It felt like I was imposing myself on them, me, who was coming from Bishan in the wrong uniform and the wrong subject combi, whose sum total of theatre experience amounted to directing and acting in school-level productions (although I still maintain that CHS Edrama at least tried to be professional in organisation and technique).
Hmm...but perhaps it's only that these people lack artistic direction. They do have talent, and boy do they have bravado. They were singing Phantom of the Opera soundtracks at the tops of their really impressive voices! Heh, putting aside my opinion that the movie is overrated, the renditions were quite stunning, to say the least =P But yeah...I'm resolved not to pry the ownership of the piece away from them. Heck, it's their exam, after all, and they should maintain artistic control. It's just that I felt that I should prod them a bit, and it is regrettable that that prod had to materialise in the form of my personal preferences. The danger is that every time I do a drama piece like this, there is an urge to become directly involved and to impose my own artistic direction on it. But the key now is to continually remind myself that I'm not in TSD, and they should be the ones in control. Otherwise it would just be unfair to them; me stepping in and positively hijacking their plays and stealing some of the experience from them.
Heh anyway, it was really fun to be among dramatists again =P That kind of energy was last glimpsed in CHS...Raffles Players are really not in the same league. It's something special about their attitudes, about the ways that they think, and their daring. Being a dramatist does bring out courage in people, and to more of an extent than in normal life, frankness is valuable. But their exam will take place in mid Feb, which means that preparations must go into full swing now. Which means back to the old pre-performance grind, at least to some extent =P
So this is addiction...I just keep coming back for more drama.
New Guitarists
Mr. Purvis says that poetic genius occurs in lesser mortals in the form of a few lines per poem. These just popped out of nowhere, really, on the walk back home from Simei MRT. Maybe it was because my legs ached so much I couldn't think straight. Nothing's as annoying as not being able to walk properly.
In this five-starred nation
How coming back is such an export!
I pay my homeland to return home
...and...
I could have worked with worse leaders
But wouldn't it have been less of a chore
If we had talked less and done more?
Okay...so much for the poetic genius. But I was reading Frost notes on the train ride back. Back to being productive, you see. Anyway, it really is something to gain the approval of Purvis. I don't know how exactly he does it, the way he can inspire respect by just standing there. Maybe it's because your sense of personal space evaporates whenever he's nearby...Ah well, but once you realise how he works, it's not too hard to deal with his way of thinking. It's just...different, and I really don't believe it's all that irreconcilable with our views. I think the world's more sympathetic to his philosophical standpoint than he realises, actually.
* * * * *
We met our prospective RJGE J1s today, and boy was it intimidating. The LT was almost full...there were like 90-odd hopefuls there waiting to be briefed. I'm quite sure that some of them weren't told to come down, but just wanted to tag along.
Hai...today could have been better lar. Firstly, the whole exco was late...when I turned up there and found the LT full and sans J2s, I was quite irritated, because that put me in a prominent position that I really couldn't care much for. Hmm...and I think we didn't make a really good impression. There were so many things left out of the briefing, and so many unresolved issues regarding the J1s, that we must have seemed quite lost and ill-prepared. Of course, RJGE is more than what we can tell them, but who can really say that first impressions don't count?
The problem is the sheer size of the prospective new cohort. With 1200+ J1s this year, it's inevitable that we'll have to expand the ensemble. But we can only accomodate so many people, with our current manpower. And even striking out the applicants with no musical background, we still have these 90 people vying for membership. And an impressive number of them have guitar experience. It's like we hit a gold mine, and then discovered that we ran out of dynamite. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.
So, what do we do with such a huge batch? That's one problem. But the most pressing one from my viewpoint is what do we do with the people with no musical background? Because pragmatically speaking, giving them a chance to join RJGE at this juncture would just deepen our accomodation and logistical problems. But then, there's still that awkward fact that we told them during open house that musical background was not required. And to tell them now that we're giving them up because of their lack, which was not a condition to begin with, smacks of hipocrisy. I can appreciate the practical needs, of course, but I really don't think I can bring myself to throw them off just like that. Heck, I got told that one year ago by my seniors, and it was a close thing to get into the ensemble at all at that point of time. It feels...wrong, considering where I come from, to do this to all these people.
Of course, another part of me says that I'm really making too much of a fuss out of this. I mean, really, how many J1s will actually hold it against us? And anyway, telling them now will set them free to join other CCAs, and they need the time to find other places. But there's still the philosophical issue - our seniors faced the same oversubscription problem last year, so why did we not restrict the admission criteria this year? Shouldn't we just give them a chance, after all? Musical knowledge is not directly related to commitment to the RJGE, after all.
Bah...if I didn't need to deal with these admin issues, I'd be a whole lot happier. Has the thought crossed the mind of the powers that be that run this leader-factory, that some people just don't want to lead?
But anyway, in happier news, Take the A Train, one of our SYF pieces, is really fun to play! It's a jazz piece, which earns points with me immediately, and today I switched sections, so now I'm playing chords rather than the rhythm. And jazz chords are really queer...all sorts of strange unheard of combinations. But it's fun nonetheless...I enjoy the challenge of changing chords as fast as possible, keeping to the off-beats of the jazz rhythm. It's safe in the rhythms section, but after a while it does get boring. Heh, and anyway, I always had a partiality towards chords =P What luck that we're playing jazz, and that I could change sections at this juncture!
* * * * *
Going down to VJ finally tomorrow to scout out the stage for which I'm designing the set. Hehheh, it'll be grand to work once again with a proper stage, with proper lighting and space. Though the old RJ's LT1 allowed for intimate actor-audience scenarios, there's something to be said for a traditional, tech-enabled stage with its wood panelling, excellent acoustics and real light and sound system, complete with red curtain =P
Juniors and Atonement
Hehheh I think we try too hard, as senior class people, to seem friendly and welcoming to our junior class. It was a bit odd today, when we were preparing those pacifiers as mass gifts to 1A01A. Well, it started out as a good idea, seemingly...it was just cute, pleasantly non-committal. But then when we stopped 1A01A outside their room to hand them the gifts, we kept em waiting there too long as we assembled our ranks, and in the end it was kinda uncomfortable. Seems to me like us big bros and sis-es are really fumbling around. And how contrived is this seinor junior bonding thing called the Angel-Mortal game anyway? I'd rather let it unfold as it will, with a bit of natural pushing from my part. Nothing formal, something low-intensity and diffused over more than one buddy. I've got plenty of attention to give to the juniors, anyway - why restrict it to one guy?
But not to say that Sam Jo isn't a nice chap...I think he's kind of like me last year at this time, except that he didn't have the environmental dislocation. And apparently he's a pro scriptwriter/actor/dramatist kind of guy, and I know these people can't be all bad =P Heh I got the feeling that I was imposing on him, really, with that pacifier and the short letter. When I was giving it to him, my overwhelming impression was that neither of us knew what to do with it.
Some funny moments with the juniors...somehow, I got dubbed Mr. Kiasu =P And we couldn't decide how to spell U-Glen's name (that's right, no Y, only one N and it has a hyphen). Hehheh, they seem so bubbly and young that it's almost painful to be with them. Their energy really drives home the point that you're a senior. While seniorhood in CHS was just a vague wonderment at how small and short the Sec1s were, seniorhood in JC is something that you can't ignore. The juniors haven't lost their shiny sec sch veneer yet, and they have the whole of J1 still ahead of them...and from the benefit of hindsight, I'm anticipating their year already, even though they still don't know what to expect. Hmph...It's easy to get along with them, but I can't seem to get rid of the impression that they're kids. It makes me feel old, almost. Or rather, it's like everyone else is getting younger, since I really don't feel that much older. Wizened, but not senile yet =P
* * * * *
Rats, PE was quite demoralising today. Out of the four NAPFA items tested today, I passed the sit and reach. The SBJ I missed by 4cm, the 2.4 I missed by 20 sec, and I couldn't do one pull up at all. Bleh...part of me says that it's because I did exercises yesterday...dumb bells (interesting why they're called that) and a jog. But the thing is that I could do it before...I could have run faster, and I have done pull ups before. But now, despite increased training, I don't have enough strength left to enjoy the view from the top of the pull up bar. And now I can't even stretch properly...raising my arms uses too many sore muscles. Bleh, I guess the only solution is to do more.
* * * * *
In other news, Atonement is a brilliant book! It's like a story about a writer, and how she changes her perception of the world as she grows from early teenage to septagenerian-ship. It has beautiful descriptions of the fluctuations in her moral stands, and her philosophy behind becoming a writer. It has the most startling descriptions and viewpoints on the creative process of a writer that I've ever seen.
The most ingenius thing was that the whole narrative novel is allegedly written by the main character. So it's not supposed to be Ian McEwan's work, but the autobiography of Briony Tallis. And Briony's creative development, as described by the narrative of her writing processes in the story, culminates at the end when it is revealed that the entire story was her creation. So at the beginning it seems like McEwan writing about Briony's writing, but in the end it dawns on you in a spectacular twist that it really is Briony writing about her own writing.
Okay. Not really Briony writing at all, but McEwan choosing to accredit his work to his own fictional creation. It's most intriguing, how these conceptual loops work out. Who's writing what? Who's really in control of the narrative? This books is kind of like a mobius strip in that way...you're taken on a whole narrative journey only to arrive back at the start but with a different point of view.
I think I'm definitely doing this book for Lit S. It's too intriguing to be put aside just like this. But now that I'm done with Atonement, I must return to reading Hist notes, which have been happily piling up. The opportunity to retreat into fiction has expired, and factual reading beckons. Ah well, but it was well worth it. And to think that I almost started to read Graham Greene's Brighton Rock first!
* * * * *
The simple pleasures in life include eating crackers with a wedge of smoked cheddar with a good book in your hand, and munching away at fresh puffy bread and homemade corned beef on a free Sunday morning. There's a certain taste in an unhewn piece of cheese, and a certain fragrance in the roughly sliced fresh bread, the crust crunchy and the inside perfectly elastic, that hearkens to something more primal in me. It's in this simple fare that one detects the declaration of self-sufficiency - it may not be pretty to eat, but you can make it yourself, and that makes it delicious.
It's just like walking is a declaration of independence; the longer you can walk, the more self-sufficient you are. And you can go anywhere on your own too legs; the real key is to go where you want to go. And it's just like a fully topped up metro card in a foreign city is the ideal ticket to inner freedom.
New Connections
Senhior-junior class party on Thursday evening. A gathering of six Humanities classes in the Bayshore. Weeeell...it could have been better, but I'm not one to complain. At any rate, I got to see them face to face, and delightfully, I have to revise my first impressions of the RI people.
The Bayshore is one monolith of a condominium, set in a neighbourhood full of such huge residential developments. It was quite amazing to find so many high rises in the East. The whole Bayshore area is a high class development that I didn't know existed in the East side of the island. Compared to the shophouses and early HDB estates that I always see out of the MRT windows, this is really a whole new world.
But anyway...they ordered this whole pile of soft drinks and pizza...it was quite impressive, to see a stack of more than a dozen pizza boxes. And there was a cauldron of chocolate fondue. We were alternatively stuffing ourselves, chatting and playing cards. They had this rather interestingly sadistic game called Bloody Knuckles...sort of like Ninety-Nine, except with a more painful forfeit =P Met lots of drama people...looks like the stars from RI drama ended up in Humans. And this SC girl from last year's RMUN...hehheh, the last time i saw her, she was dressed up as Harry Potter =P
Our junior class seems nice enough...though I can only remember Navjote, Ning Si, Angelina, Yu Glenn (aka *****), Sam Jo, Huang Na (aka Huananana), and various other nicknames...******, Be Good, Be Nice, B1 and B2. Hehheh, I gotta say the juniors are really enthusiastic about this nicknaming business...sounds like their class got overrun by the female influence =P Hmm...but interestingly enough, there doesn't seem to be anyone like us, this year's CHS guys, in our junior class. Maybe it's because their presence was overridden by the exuberance of everyone else, but it does seem that everyone is warm and bubbly and irrepressibly young. That's the most striking thing. From my vantage point, they really look young.
Hmm...but it seems that 1A01A is again the least diverse class, with only representatives from RI, RG and CHS. But all the same, it seems like this time round, the lack of diversity didn't impact on their variety in personalities. When we were intorducing ourselves, the junior class seemed much more interesting. In the space of three short weeks, they've accumulated more interesting stories than we had to tell them. But maybe it's just because we've mellowed over last year and forgotten all the little funny things. What's undoubtable is that 1A01A does seem to resemble 2004's 1A13A than this year's 2A01A.
Hehheh...I think we were trying too hard that night to entertain our junior class. We tried to start up a game, but it dissolved into chaos, then we tried a singalong with me playing the guitar, but I didn't have enough light to see my scores by. So in the end the group just broke up and went back to the food. Hmm...I can see that our girls weren't very impressed by how things turned out, especially if one compares our little group with the 1B and 13A group (two 13A-type classes! what fun!). But who should compare anyway? As long as everyone's happy and occupied, anything goes.
Afterwards, I was playing for 1A01B, because they felt like singing. We adjourned to the bridge over the condo pool, and I was trying to strum as hard as I could in order to be heard. Heh...it wasn't the bets performance ever, but who really cares? It felt good to be playing in a singalong, and under the stars on a bridge by a quiet pool too...How often do you come across a setting that's so idyllic? =P Maybe it's the paternal instinct, but the thing that really struck me was how these new faces are really young. I do envy them their J1 year...and we have so little of J2 remaining...
* * * * *
Ahh it is good to be involved in drama once again, although now I'm doing something that I never did formally before...stage design. But as long as it involves a stage, I'm happy enough. Now I'm designing the stage for Grace's Kabuki piece for her TSD A Levels, it feel good...and familiar...to be caught up in the feverish process of preparing for a play.
You know, it's strange how these things work. It really doesn't matter what role you play in a play, in the end you'll still get that feeling of satisfaction. I'm a stage designer for a ten minute producion for an audience of no more than thirty, probably, but a part of me really doesn't care about those practical aspects. To a certain extent, it really doesn't matter who watches you, as long as there is someone watching. When you bare yourself to such an extent, as you do when you act on a stage, it is not the audience size, but the daring to get onstage at all, that sets you apart. This time, I'm not appearing at all on stage, and thank heaven hat I'm not directing...dealing with the stress of directing an exam piece is something I don't really want to experience after SYF. But it will be great to see something I helped to make on a stage.
I'm rather honoured by her faith in me...considering that all the stage design experience I have is the minimalist approach to the Road Less Travelled for sec 4 SYF. To a certain extent it's a little unsettling to have so much trust placed in me. But I am determined to make this good. The professional touch of TSD brings back many good memories from CHS Edrama, and the high standards we tried to set there. This isn't some little school production, just as CHS Edrama didn't allow itself to be restricted by its label as a CCA.
Anyway, it'll be a good oportunity to go see Conan and JY more often. Heh...slowly, I realise that my dream of being part of VJ and HC's Humanities programmes is coming true. Who needs to be restricted by this white uniform? I'd like to think that everything I've gone through in the first ten years of education have eliminated any pretense to exclusivity that I may entertain. The separation of schools and school rivalry is such a superficial thing, funny when entertained, but pitiful when taken seriously.
Counting
$27,522 at last count, not including the almost 90 cans still unopened, the miscellaneous leftovers from counting, and Benuel's redonation to clear up the last outstanding claims issue. Heh...I never thought I could get sick of seeing money, but there is such a thing as overkill, and seeing a pile of notes and coins (by Singapore standards, we can call it a hill =P) is at the same time overwhelming, awesome and dreadful. We should have taken a photo of that metallic molehill!
Finally, we're on the brink of bringing somethingood to an end. But now, standing on this side of the end date, it's not with nostalgia but with relief that I see all the money being counted, the signal that our charity work is ended. I guess overall, somethingood could have been better organisationally, but it definitely had its high points, in the surprising outpouring of all sorts of goodwill over the course of those two weeks. Was talking to Soph today...and feeling good about the event is quite a luxury, a luxury that administrative headaches leached away through the course of organising this event. That's the drawback of leadership...there's a risk of getting too caught up in the nuances of the event, so much so that one can't appreciate the idealistic significance of what one is doing. It may be a naive delusion, but then again, it does feel good. And a delusion has its morale uses.
* * * * *
In other news, Singapore holds the Tiger Cup again. I was discussing stage set possibilities with Grace when the final whistle was blown =P So history was made with me completely unawares. But apparently lots of the 13A people went to watch the match live, and according to them it was quite interesting. Sports as a social function...
* * * * *
We had CCA Feste today, and RJGE had such a good response with preliminary signups that we don't know what to do with all of them. We have 80-odd applicants with musical background, and 40-odd without, and as things stand, it looks logical to give all the available spaces to those with musical background. But I do have objections about that...deep ones. Firstly, it's because I didn't have (and still can't rightly say that I do have) musical background. I think that the 40 people should have as much chance as everyone else to at least try out first. After all, a difficult learning curve is not equal to an impossible task. And secondly, it's because we told them that no musical background was needed. Though practicality demands some kind of reducing mechanism on our intake, it's unfair to them. It'll be breaking our word. And it could be eliminating unfound talents, or at least, earnest and sincere players who only need our patience to teach them.
Basically I really think that closing our doors to non-musical people is a mistake. I will teach them myself if need be, I think. But I don't know how far I can push this agenda with the comm, faced with such practical restraints on our intake. How to convince them to take in everyone first and see how later, when all I have is a moral-ethical opinion against the rigourous requirements of reality?
There were nice surprises during CCA Feste...Chern crashing and singing, and me accompanying on my guitar that could not overcome the sheer size and lack of acoustics of the concourse, this RG girl who practically squealed in my ear when I told her about training dates that happened to fit nicely in her schedule, and this group of three friends who parked themselves at our booth and asked me to play songs for them. These J1s, with a sort of authentic flavour that Humans people can sometimes lack, were singing along to my floundering chords, these good-natured people whose spontaneity and sportingness were refreshing in the extreme. It was like a breath of youthful fresh air after the money-perfumed atmosphere of adult considerations in the morning. There's a certain elusive beauty about the simplicity of our enjoyment...their enjoyment in singing, and my enjoyment in accompanying them. How often does our enjoyment fit in with our official commitments?
Hectic
I've just stopped by here to have a breather. Today has been chaotic...and so has yesterday. Preparations for CCA Feste have been happily slurping up all my after school time. As of now, I've hardly been home for 1h, and it's past 10pm already! Hai...it is tiring, coming up with an advertising campaign and a presentable booth. But at least we have a concrete plan, and we're going ahead smoothly.
Not that it's all that bad helping out for RJGE's booth. In fact, it is fulfilling in itself. The comm has lots of energy, and it's quite heartening to see what we can do together once we set our minds to it. For once, it feels good doing group work, because everyone knows what he's doing, and I find my nice little niche of expertise easily =P So right now we have a decent network of posters, a really nice banner (in fact, the only one in the concourse area as yet) and a hundred door gifts to try to attract attention. And tomorrow apparently we'll festoon our booth with balloons. It feels good to be proceeding with a definite, universally agreed vision, even though it's not really earthshattering.
Heh...we had practice with the former RI guitarists for the first time today...and the rhythms section got three new faces - Julio, Ouyang-something, and one more whose name I can't recall. It must be quite intimidating for some of them...especially Julio, who's a kindred spirit inasmuch that he can't read notes either and specialises in chords. And with the current piece requiring us to play single notes and use fancy fingering, it's already scary enough for me, who have been faking it already for a year. I guess I do feel sympathy, especially when Ben is trying to get him to learn how to read notes overnight. Like me, he finds memorising finger positions and progressions easier than interpreting the third language called music.
Anyhoos, in a bit of other news...tomorrow we'll be attempting to close the accounts on somethingood. Actually I was under the impression that we were to close the accounts today, but apparently after getting Benuel and Soph down with the auditor, they audited some other group's accounts first and delayed us to tomorrow...apparently CCF has loads of people queuing up to give it money, which is why it's so irritating to coordinate with them. We were running around like headless chickens today in school doing up last minute accounts. And after the wild goose chase finding out who should audit the cans, now we have to shove aside a day of school to count the money ourselves under the supervision of their auditor. I never thought doing charity could be this tough. Organisers of these events are really brave people.
But on the bright side, the school agreed to pick up the tab on amp repairs and purchase of AV equipment. Which means almost $1000 less in claims for the CCF. I guess I can't really say the school did that out of pure goodwill...a part of me says that they're trying to edge in on the posthumous glory. But then again, money to a charity is good, as long as it's not illegal.
Finished Gut Symmetries. It's a wonderful book! I think I shall do Winterson for Lit S. Out of the really scattered approach, one can see a certain order and clarity of interpretation coalescing as the book ends. The haunting scenes of cannibalism, lesbianism, adultery, convoluted family ties (the daughters of two adulterers ended up in a lesbian relationship) and idiosyncracies (one of the mothers ate diamonds) all add up to paint a haunting picture of the different shades of human love (delightfully and enigmatically pronounced "muck"). And what a lot of clever expressions in close proximity to each other. The book is filled with a frantic morse code flashes of brilliance that make up for the lack of coherence in the plot.
And now I'm starting Atonement by Ian McEwan, and I like it already. The language is simpler than Winterson, and the plot is more straightforward, but from the very start, I've found it a meaningful story. The story opens with this girl writing. At first you only see a play, but then you realise she's been writing prodigiously, with a most moral agenda. And then they discuss the dynamics and intricacies of writing - it's the most beautiful treatment of the writing process I've ever read in my limited reading scope. So far the book is about family politics, the schemingness of children and growing up out of an idealistic worldview (the one that Purvis seems to be convinced I hold). And there's a haunting image of a mother looking for "dark glasses" so she can leave her sickroom and go see what her family is doing...I think I'll do this book for Lit S too.
Even though these few days have been really busy, reading is good. I haven't read so much in so little time since primary school.
* * * * *
Yay, I'm involved in drama again! Hehheh, it seems like a yearly habit, this yearning to be involved in something with a stage. But this time it's more regulated than a school performance, or even SYF. I'm helping Grace out in her A Level TSD piece. But that means that I'll be working with the best of the best in Singaporean student dramatics...I'll be working with the people who are doing what I'd wanted to do, who are taking that plunge which I backed away from.
It's not really a major role...I'm just helping to design her set. Providing concepts and drawings. I really don't have the vision to provide anything more concrete at this point of time...and considering that I've never drawn a set before, it's quite surprising that she has enough faith in my sketches to ask me to help. I find it quite an honour, really =P It's a real privilege to work in TSD, even in an informal and minor role. I think it'll be a distinct pleasure to see them at work. And of course, the stage always has its allure...to be filled with things, and more importantly, people.
I seem to keep returning to it.
What is the nature of my relationship with the stage? Why do I keep going back? Why am I allowed to continually go back?
Snippets
...on the one hand, it's utterly petty and pointless to write in to ST complaining about taupoking. Actually, on reading the original article, I suspect that the parent wrote it (and ST printed it) for fun. I mean, it really is quite hilarious...the scientific dissection of taupoking. Making an Everest out of a molehill of students' bodies. Does anyone really expect us to take it seriously? But on the other hand, it really isn't worth the effort to write back to the ST. It'll just start a needless scandal. But isn't is sad that the forum has nothing more important to print than this taupoking business?
Maybe if we changed its name to tauhueying, they'll think it's safe enough for 17-18 year olds...
* * * * *
Finally gave her her very belated birthday and Christmas present. Hehheh, it was good to get the chance to chat again. When you're with someone who's known you for so long, and who knows so much about you, and vice versa, you just feel...safe. At peace, even. Well, I hope she liked it, anyway...it isn't exactly something displayable, so I guess it'll for the most part remain a bit like a secret =P But I guess it's important to me too...from all my travels, I bring bits back, and I keep some, and my family keeps some. And recently, she keeps some too. I guess to a certain extent it's my way of sharing the story as well. And it's been done since Frexprog. We all need our little traditions.
But it is always good to have lasting friends.
* * * * *
Hehheh, now that Mr. Purvis is in charge of the CWC, exciting things are gonna happen! It seemed like he's determined to push the club and its expertise as far as it will go, and all I can say is that it's about time. Hoh's illogical restraint in exposing the club's writers to the outside world has lost us enough time already. And I am eager to see what we can do when shown the real world out there, awaiting our interpretation, expression and competition.
I think we should have begun a lot of these things last year. Entering every competition under the sun, bringing student writing closer than ever to the student body, and cooperating with the Lit Wing and the Writers' Circle on publications and events. Why didn't Hoh allow the CWC to do all this in the first place? Did she not have faith in the skill and calibre of our writers? I wonder how she got the impression that we weren't good enough. And even if we weren't, what's there to lose but a bit of face? I don't think RJ CWC's name is that precious that we have to avoid any risk of besmirching it. Trial by fire may be difficult, but it does stretch one in ways that one can't imagine.
Heh, and we're going to change our name. What'll CWC be called? We came up with Ink-Soc =P But Ian and Thong insist on Humbert Squared. I personally prefer Hyphen, but between the previous two, Ink-Soc gets my vote...
* * * * *
Made a jump back to HC yesterday afternoon, between the end of GP and the start of Lit S. Hehheh, it was cool to see everyone again! Joel, Mark, Nurul, Han, Chengyi, Pei Xuan, Lucas, Rui Min...it's the first time that I realised that I really do know quite a few people over there. And of course, chatting with the old pals was worth the trip down. It's a different flavour, talking to CHS people compared to the RJ guys. Perhaps it's because Joel and Han tend to kid around more. But I have known them well since time immemorial (okay, exaggeration for effect =P), and I know how to communicate with them. We can listen to one another, while in RJ, it's a constant fight to be heard (although to be sure it's easier now that I've come to know how they work too).
Hehheh, their classes are really noisy, especially with the J1s who share their home rooms. I got mistaken for a J1 crasher (well, that junior girl was half right), and to my surprise, I discovered that Isaac of Frexprog One had joined Humans. And I could have sworn I saw Conrad in Joel's junior class too. So, in a bizarre twist of fate called Frexprog One, I realise that I know more people in Joel's junior class than in 1A01A =S Heh well, I find that I like that kind of rowdiness. It's a nice change from the more high-pitched contemplativeness in 2A01A.
Well, that's not to say that I don't adore the people in RJ Humans. Far from it. It's just that the novelty of HC Humans has an endearing effect too. It's a different flavour of love, I guess you could say. And I think I can easily learn to love both, in my personal blend of the experience of these two years. It's really nice to have this open door to HC, and with their flexible (pronounced "nonexistent") timetable, you really can crash any time and expect to find somewhere to go. I feel like going back next week! And perhaps the next time, I can bring more people along.
* * * * *
The charity concert for the tsunami victims was better than I expected, actually. The CWC poetry readings justified themselves...they formed like solemn interludes or bridges between phases of the musical performances. And while the poems weren't really that good, I think reading them out achieved the needed effect. And the finale, when everyone involved in the concert sang Let It Be, it was quite poignant. It was a well chosen song for a sensitive finish, and while at the start I was goading myself into not being cynical about the whole affair, by the end of it it was easy to get caught up in the solemnity. It may still be superficial, and nothing more than a gesture, but it served a minimal practical and social purpose at least. It sure exceeded my expectations.
During the concert and the walk through sunset Bishan towards the roaring main road, a concept coalesced in my mind...
Violinist
14 Jan '05
On a silent stage
What depths of sorrow did he glimpse
Embrace with his bewildered spirit
What universal shackle did he rattle
To drive him to pen his silent music
And what does she see
In the unplacated notes
Frozen in their mournful revelry
That denies the soundless balm they are preserved in
But he plays the violinist
Plays the instrument
Plays us
And what do we perceive
In the harmonic rainbow
What shimmer of familiarity in that blend of shadow
Makes us whisper chords in a human symphony
(The bow shoots across
And the wood vibrates
And all our personal wood answers
And the strings that tie together, Us
The conscious flotsam
On our seething saltwater memory
The strings, they cry)
* * * * *
Just came back from a lavish dinner at China Square for Grandma's birthday. Hmm...discovered a whole new neighbourhood in the downtown district, full of Yuppie-friendly bars and restaurants, and a group of linedancing buskers of some kind. The landscaping was beautiful, but due to the early hour it was more or less empty. But I got to bring people to go see it again.
Anyway, the important thing was not the food, which wasn't bad (free flow...a la carte buffet at the Teahouse restaurant), but the opportunity to talk to my cousins again. It has been a long time...and since they weren't available for Christmas, this was our first opportunity to catch up again. I was quite surprised by how much they've grown up. One shows signs of teenage angst, and another has matured in poly. The veil of adult cares has begun to be drawn over our dazed young consciousnesses. There are surprises to be found even in your own family.
Later on, my family went for a stroll from China Square to Chinatown, where they had just lit up the entire road with enormous colourful lanterns. Add to that the recently approved and set up flashing neon signs, and the place is really quite a sight to behold. This lightup has a different flavour from the Christmas Orchard Road one...it's definitely more Asian, but it's also more intimate...there isn't as much light, but there are little details everywhere. And while Orchard is all shiny and new, Chinatown shows (indeed, showcases) marks of its history. That's also a nice place to go to...I haven't seen the city from that perspective before. Maybe I'll bring some people back on CNY Eve.
Oh yar, and got an SMS from Taiwan Yvonne today. Hehheh, interestingly enough, this year is the year of the chicken...=P
A Wanderer's Anthem
Now and then, I dig up these little gems that I've forgotten that I had. Sometimes I wonder if I'm unconsciously leaving my future self messages or oracles, or if this continuity and contiguity is only something that I want to see...
Write a critical appreciation of this song, after having listened to the original soundtrack, paying particular attention to the use and effectiveness of imagery, structure and grammar.
Learning How to Smile
Everclear
Five miles outside of Vegas when we broke down
Threw my keys inside the window and we never looked back
Got all drunk and sloppy on a Greyhound bus
We passed out, all them losers they were laughing at us
I will never let them break your heart
No I will never let them break me
We got lost in Phoenix, seemed like such a long time
Seven months of livin' swimming on those thin white lines
Did some time for sellin' acid to the wrong guy
Life just keeps on gettin' smaller and we never ask why
Why there is no perfect place, yes I know this is true
I'm just learning how to smile
That's not easy to do
I know there will come a day
When we can leave and just go runnin' away
We was broke outside of Philly when the storms came
I was working in New Jersey, hitchin' rides in the rain
You was happy talkin' dirty at that phone sex place
Life just keeps on gettin' weirder for us every day
You say there is no perfect place, I say I know this is true
We are just learning how to smile
That's not easy to do
We both live for the day
When we can run away
Oh baby we can leave and run away
Yes we can leave this place and run away
We can leave it all behind like we do every time
Yes we both live for the day
When we can leave and just go runnin' away
No I will never let it break your heart
No I will never let it break me
Five miles outside of Vegas, five years down the line
We got married in the desert and the sunshine
I can't handle how the hell it happens every day
When you smile and touch my face
You make it all just go away
Yes I know there ain't no finish line, I know this never ends
But I'm just learning how to fall, climb back up again
I know there is nothing perfect, I know there is nothing new
We are just learning how to live together, me and you
You know I live for the day
When you say "Baby let's just run away"
Oh baby we can leave and run away
Yes we can leave this place and run away
Baby we can leave and run away
We can leave this place and run away
One More Year
Why would anyone even bother? The taupoking thing is almost too ridiculous to be taken seriously. Heh, how can they expect us to believe that they never knew taupoking existed? Or that the danger makes it a bad thing? How does that compute, really? Taupoks are more than mindless violence. At the moment, at the spur of the moment, it is something that is in most part impulsive. But it does show a certain side of the spirit of the moment, and rather than a sign of antagonism, taupoking frequently signals acceptance and inclusion. In other words, people get taupoked because other people know that they won't mind.
Well, it looks like this time round someone went too far, or someone made the wrong assessment of someone else's tolerance levels. I really pity whoever it was whose parents made the whole hoohah...can you imagine the backlash? Of course, it may very well be that people will see the funniness behind the whole affair, but more likely than not a stigma will stick with that poor guy. And for the social function that it serves, I personally think taupoking is worth the risks. Why is it that going to OBS to climb mountains is seen as an adventure, but Orientation exploits must remain within conventional definitions of an enriching experience befitting a "premier institution in the Bishan-Ang Moh Kio area"? Why can't people use euphemisms in a more artistic fashion?
* * * * *
Went for my first Guitar prac in a heck of a long time, and it felt great! We're really going somewhere with our SYF piece now, and our second piece is something jazzy. It sounds really cool! The only thing is that the Guitar 4 parts are quite boring. But I'm learning to read notes and translate them into finger movements...multilingualism is a satisfying ability.
But now it really feels like we're moving somewhere. New venues, a new teacher (who is eminently good to work with) and new members...it's the season of reblossoming for RJGE, an exciting period, a period ripe for making impressions and changes.
* * * * *
I think I will go for the charity concert on Friday for the tsunami victims. MEP piano players, chamber pieces, Chorale recitals I can understand. But what is a CWC poetry reading doing in the middle of this event? Heh they just seem a bit out of place...not that I don't want to hear the literary works of RJ talents, but how does one force out a poem on the tsunami disaster? There is no flavour of authenticity, because you can't rehearse the writing process, no more than you can set a time and place for an audience to come and see you write. But of course, I don't exclude the possibility of being surprised.
At the very least, it will be a relaxing end to this week. It'd be nice to hear chamber music again. I think placing a piano in the large concourse is a good idea...during breaks, J1s and J2s alike meet at that old instrument, sending melodies into the surrounding atmosphere. It may not be a very good piano, but at least anyone can use it, and it does add a dash of art and a whiff of the different to the school day. Now all we need are buskers at Block J =P
* * * * *
Well, so today was that special day in the year, and I'm one year older, and I'm only left with the feeling that time is passing by too fast.
It was great. I guess what's really special about these JC birthdays is that people do bother to remember it. Maybe it's a girl thing...in CHS, it was too dangerous to your innocence to publicise your birthday =P And people do go far in making it obvious that it's your birthday. Heh...not only by being showered by greetings from practically everyone I met, but with really unexpected gifts and surprises. I guess in the physically manifested demonstrations of recognition, nothing beats a JC class, or a Humanities batch =) But I wonder if they realise that the best thing about this birthday is that I passed it with such a good group of people.
I still maintain that people are the most important thing around us. At the end of it, it's my friends and classmates who will define my memories of this JC period. And with the fantastic JC1 year of 2004 that is now finally at an end, and with everyone standing on an avalanche of firsts, it really is the people that are familiar, that are dependable. For all their idiosyncracies and fluctuations, I find the fluidity of people more secure as a foundation for memory than anything more physical and unmoving. At least it's exciting and interesting to deal with people.
They've already given me a great present. It's called 2004. But as that year is confined to the memory of blog entries (digital snail trails) and photographs, I'm given this brand new one in which to make new memories. Now, more things are open to me. I'm legal now, that's the biggest change, I think. But the realisation is that hardly have I started to enjoy these newly revealed possibilities with this group of people when our official togetherness will be at an end. What will I do when this year ends, and the next January 12 will occur in a jungle camp on a cot and under a rifle? What can one do with so little time?
But the thing is not for us to lament about how little time we have. All we can really do to justify this present is to grasp every grain of sand that leaks past our hourglassed perception. We enjoy what we have, and make the best of it, and hope that it's enough. And looking forward to this small window of opportunity I have, I'm hopeful that every time I look back to this period, this JC and this class, my memory will be distorted by nostalgia. 2005 is set to drip with sentimentality, and I really don't mind. Why must sentimentality be belittled? Anything can be appreciated if your perspective is correctly adjusted.
And so at this juncture, I have a glass ball in one hand, its curved-space prophecies echoing the present in the other hand. I don't know what will happen this new year, but the unknown is friendly because it is not altogether unfamiliar or unpredictable. My anchors drag alongside me on the murky seafloor. Thank you all for a great birthday =)
* * * * *
I spent the whole of yesterday afternoon bookhunting at Bras Basah again, at the two fiction bookstores that we didn't visit last Friday. Heh...I found myself swimming among mounds of cheap romance and just enough classics (Hardies, Brontes, Shakespeares and their facsimilies) to give these shops a veneer of reputability. I really didn't find anything modern, but I did get a Jeanette Winterson book, Ian McEwan's Atonement and Graham Greene's Brighton Rock...all for a total of $5 =D
Sifting through the stacks of books is quite an adventure. Everything's dusty and worn - when people's eyes ran through these books, they left their scent and drops of sweat that distilled themselves into dogears and dust. It's quite something to think that the book you hold left an impression on someone else too. And you never know what you'll find...little notes in the books that could be secret and prophetic messages bequeathed to you. But there is a lot of trash lining the little gems. If literature is art and art is undying, then the bargain bookshop is the Darwinian playing field. Let the unmemorable moulder into ash, but one always knows that the ranks of the greats will be replenished by republishment. Paper bodies may rot, but the Word lives on in vessels that are not much more substantial - human minds.
But anyway, I'm reading Winterson's Gut Symmetries right now...a story about a scientist who has an affair on the QE2. Hehheh...I find that I like her writing! It's very diffuse and at times confusingly disorganised, but her skill of expression is hilarious, and there are so many fascinating phrases and metaphors liberally scattered everywhere. And I daresay that it's been affecting my own writing too...the script is being infused with a Winterson-esque irony, and the structure and flair of her book are present in this entry. I think I'll like reading Oranges are not the Only Fruit =P
Opening Week
It has been the first week of school, and what a great start to the year! Usually I'd be a bit reluctant to go back to school, but it seems that the best holidays ever, coupled with all the people and events in school, and the spanking new facility, has actually driven me into something akin to eagerness, if that's believable.
The first week has been quite fun, actually...on the first day, there was no furniture in our classrooms, because after tossing us to the edge of the campus (Block J!), they happily forgot that there were classrooms in places other than Block A. That meant that no one at all felt like having lessons, so everyone just ran off. The thing was that no one checked with the teachers whether they were really calling everything off, and so it fell to me, who was still in school following Orientation, to cover the caboose of the class. Bleh...why do I always have to deal with this kind of fallout?
The new classrooms in Block J are really a blank slate, just waiting for us to add decorations and perhaps a coat of paint. Personally I quite liked the idea of having no furniture...then we could carpet the area, bring in throw cushions and all sit on the floor or something =P But Turkish-style upholstery aside, I think the whole Block J can do with a tad of colour. And our classroom has a window view, and what a view it is...two storeys' worth of windows. We don't need to turn on the lights during the day. But then, only the bottom row can be opened, so the class does get quite hot. Heh, and Mel put a plant into the class, but then it started wilting...
They were asking for suggestions on what we could do to make the place more homey. Besides adding a lounge, a TV, a library of the Economist and Time, I would personally like to coat the partitions and walls with mahjong paper so people can just scribble on them. And the windows too...so much class there for us to apply markers or chalk to. And if we have all this stuff in place, the it'll begin to feel like a place inhabited by youths. And I was thinking that we could start a tradition of having student performances around Block J, and inviting the Arts people and indeed everyone else to visit the poor outcast Block J once in a while. It really is quite sad that we're so physically isolated. And while I maintain that we're not doomed to elitism yet, if we don't do anything about it soon, then it'll be a moot point. And I do hope we don't HC-fy our Humans programme too much...our own block, our own LT, and what seems to be shared home rooms with our juniors seem to be our fate in the new campus.
Speaking of sharing home rooms...I wonder how that'll work. Heh...they'll have to really chew up the curriculum of the juniors in order to fit them into the same room as us. Oh, but the juniors are pretty much still an unknown. We kind of saw them on Thursday morning. This year, it seems that the Humans batch has a better spread of schools...with people from CHIJ, NY, CHS, the other CHS, ACS and Dunman inside, with the expected RG and RI intake. But the bad thing is that it seems like the Raffles proportion has increased. And there's only one CHS guy in the batch, as far as I know. Hmm...I like Glenn, the CHS guy, and I think the RG people will be manageable, but the RI people seem...frigid at first glance. Well, it's just a first impression, but it looks like the attitude of the RI guys during the start of 2004 in our class isn't a one off thing. How odd...a school that consciously produces extremely capable people that know that they're extremely capable (and that others are not).
Oh, and Orientation was great. Heh...I was crashing OGs like nobody's business, especially Shirin's and Wenxian's one...if I recall correctly, their name was Konfusion, or something like that. Thta was because they happened to be using our class as a dance prac area on day 1, and I happen to know both OGLs, and Orly from Frexprog One is in there too =P It was cool to stand on the fringes and watch them praccing their really nice batch dance (theirs comes with retro as well as break dancing moves, and has hand moves as well as feet moves. Clearly the councillors put a lot of effort into it), playing their station games and basically breaking in the new campus. Heh, I hope I didn't annoy them too much with my unwanted and unannounced appearances.
O Night was really a great party, though. This year's OGs really got down to the costume dressing up thing. I spotted Karl as an angel, and Jes's OG was dressing like babies =P One thing you don't want to hear under any circumstances..."I thought it was a joke". I particularly liked this green dragon made out of one long stretch of green cloth that everyone could wear at the same time. Heh, and from the specimens that made it to the stage, Chern thinks that the J1 girls are generally more attractive than the ones from our batch. Hmm...I can't really say, of course. But I have to admit that they're a lot more sporting and a great deal braver with their sexuality...heh, these are people who know that they look good =P It does look like it's going to be fun interacting with these new people.
Ah well...it was fun crashing the whole Orientation. Storyline was actually quite good, and it's good to immerse oneself in the spirit of the moment, when everyone's swaying to and fro during their batch song, or dancing their batch dance, and the councillors letting everyone dance the Raindance and the Sundance. Ther was a particularly nice moment when they were singing their batch song, and then they started throwing lightsticks around, and these streaks of light arced all across the hall, making quite a spectacular spontaneous show of happiness. And when you get 1200 J1s to do something together, you have real energy going. O Night may be the only time when something close to the elusive "Rafflesian Spirit" manifests itself.
But of course, there were moments of awkwardness, because it is clear that we are only crashing, and that this Orientation was not ours. But all the same, it was good to touch base again, to feel the electrically charged atmosphere of the O Night party, to hear the songs, and to see that some traditions, some idiosyncracies, and some practices survived the change of campus. I guess J1s will be J1s. And I have to congratulate all the councillors for a job well done for this Orientation, and especially for a splendid O Night. Heh, it seems that the tradition does carry on.
* * * * *
It really is a great pleasure to go to Bras Basah with classmates to bookhunt. With our long break on Fridays between the end of lessons and the start of S papers, we went all the way downtown, and had quite a nice haul of books to show for it. I was looking for S Lit texts, but the main source of budget fiction down there was closed for the afternoon, so I came back empty handed. But it was really fun to be with people who love books, and who would go through all that effort to look for them, and take pleasure in finding them. We must do this again.
* * * * *
I'm working on a new drama script. After seeing the VJ TSD Public Performance yesterday, and all their pro facilities (studio, black box) and pro talent, I was hit by an idea to write a play about directing. Hmm...but yesterday's performance wasn't as good as last year's, perhaps because this was a collection of promo exam pieces. Hehheh, Conan and Carol were doing R&J's balcony scene...it was spooky hearing all the R&J quotes coming back to me even after all this time. And I'm glad that RP people did come down...they need to realise that they can't claim to be in the same league as the TSD people.
Anyway...I digress. So after realising that it's quite hard to write a play within a play, I hit on the idea of writing a play about memory. So basically what I have now is this guy who unconsciously starts to forget everything that he's experienced, so he's day by day regressing into childhood. At first everyone thinks he's fooling, then they get spooked out because his condition gets more and more serious. And beyond that, I haven't worked it out yet, since I'm still only at the third scene. But no, this isn't for RJ Dramafeste, which traditionally only accepts comedies, or at least comedies are best received.
But then I had more ideas splintering off...one is about a guy who remembers the future...so he's convinced he's done things that haven't happened yet. And then there's this guy who can only remember through associations, so it's like the regression thing, except that the time period he regresses to changes as he remembers certain periods due to certain stimuli. And of course, all these plays will be to examine how people will react to this kind of thing. Although I haven't really worked that out either...
* * * * *
And so, this is the one-month anniversary of returning to Singapore. Hmm...I miss them all, but it's just a comforting presence at the back of my mind, and occasional flashes of memory. It's not annoying at all...in a way I think I feel secure with this memory load, and if it went missing then I would really be disturbed. Everything's where it's meant to be, I guess. But I've finished uploading a major update to the phoenican network, with photos from the Singapore phases of Frexprog Two and Texprog, and more poems, wallpapers and a story, and a new cataloguing format for paleblack. So if you have time, guys, feel free to take a peek!
Memorial
