Depressive Phase
Written on 30 Mar 05 @ 21.32
Hmm...odd. It's the first time that I've heard of Blogger being down. The site's still up, but I can't access my account. Ah well, I guess no online diary can escape the ravages of mechanical failure. Shall post this up later.
Anyway, had a bit of a crisis today, and it's again lit that caused it. Purvis was talking about the essays, and according to him, they really stank...not enough contextual knowledge to carry out a convincing argument. Luckily enough I didn't do the essay - never have I scored well for any lit essay in my entire history. But the assertion that we haven't been doing our work really hurt, I guess. I know that such blanket declarations are not meant to apply to everyone, but there is always the nagging suspicion that it has a grain of truth in it, the feeling that despite how much I actually do, it won't be enough. It's the paranoid feeling that somehow I deserve that accusation too, at least in part.
I hope I do well enough in the passage-based, because it's more or less make or break now. I consciously used his three-step process in the exam, so if it still doesn't work then I'm really at my wits' end. A part of me is jealous, I guess, of the people that consistently do so well. They don't seem to have any trouble with lit at all...it all seems so effortless. Of course, it's my own fault for not trying to find out what I was doing right all that time in CHS...somehow lit was always simple, as long as I didn't think too much about it. But now it's impossible if I don't consciously control what I write. There it is...I think I feel that I really don't have that tradition of literary rigour that the others have.
And then there's the issue of why I should care so much about this, because it's only due to how much regard I have for lit and Purvis that I try so much as it is. In the end, does Purvis's perception of me really matter? Do I really need to look like a good lit student in his eyes? For some compelling but elusive reason his approval is really important. And that is dangerous, because increasingly I see my interest in lit being conditional on his acknowledgement of my abilities. I can see how that can be fatal in the long run.
Was in a right fit of depression, then, after lit lec, asking myself why exactly I put so much effort into a subject with so little return so far. But that was all corrected by a trip to Toa Payoh for lunch. Heh, that town has grown so beautifully since I moved away when I was two, and then my grandma moved away when I was in the middle of primary school. It's positively an eclectic mix, with old apartment blocks with new additions, new landscaping and new layers of paint. It makes for a really colourful combination. And because of its age you can positively taste the character of Toa Payoh in its inhabitants.
Walked through the old town centre, and how much it has changed! One end of it has the HDB Hub looming...the other end the white block of the Library, still the same after all these years. It's like walking along a timeline, because the promenade's been remade and repainted, but the cramped stores and the spirit tree in the middle are all so familiar. Anyway, went to the library plaza (the nicest plaza I've seen in Singapore) to have mutton soup and teh cino. Fantastic simple fare. The mutton soup is burning and thick, and the sweet milky teh cino just offsets the spice, and makes for a delicious finish. Really, we shouldn't just stay at J8, when such a rich town centre lies only a ten-minute bus ride away. Makes for a great relief and change from Pastamania =)
Anyway, was eating lunch alone today, which was really calming, after the crisis in the morning. I guess now that I can safely choose to be alone or with other people, time alone seems more valuable; it's no longer forced upon me. And when you're alone, you can appreciate so much more of your environment. Getting lost in the crowd is a nice feeling, as Vye would know from today's passage about her escape to the dance. A quiet simple lunch, then a quiet read in the library, and sweet safe solitude with me and my thoughts. That's about as tranquil as things can get in Singapore, and quietude is to be found in the crowds.
And then it was back to school for guitar prac, which was cool. We're now playing four songs simultaneously, and the SYF pieces are coming together well, I think. We're still not up to Gold standard...Yu Hsin thinks we'll only get a bronze at this point. But I'm beginning to enjoy this process. Now with more urgency, you can really feel things going forward, and the pieces are instilled with more excitement and depth. From the melancholic swaying melody of the Aria to the fast pace of the jazz piece, and the cool new chord progressions for Quien Sera and the funny base line of Jota, it's all really nice now. I had no idea that I could do that much with a guitar, and with brand new strings, things are sounding great =)
On a John Mayer craze now, ever since on the kelong Thong let me listen to some of his songs. He has this interesting melodic progression that goes all over the scale, but still fits into some sort of chord pattern. "Daughters" is sweet with a nice-sounding guitar part, but my favourite must be "Wheel", which is so deeply melancholic and strikingly lyrical. A part of me wonders what it must feel like to be in those shoes, but another part of me admits that I know already, at least in part. Airports are indeed such bittersweet places when you remember. And it's relatively easy to play on the guitar, so I'm working on those two songs now. They're great stuff.
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Written Today
Fwah...what a relief. I had no idea that the lit thing was worrying me that much, but once Purvis said that I did alright, it's like a weight has been lifted, and the guillotine blade removed. Well, he said there were bits that were wonderful, which to me is quite enough, really. It means I'm doing something right. I've just got to figure out what exactly.
Thong got this really hilarious book called The Bunny Suicides, which is quite a gruesome comic book. Heh, the girls couldn't stand reading it, except Mel, for some reason =P I like how the guy uses the snapshot at a critical juncture to make you wonder what will happen after the instant drawn...like when a stack of rabbits line themselves up between a guillotine blade and Robespierre's head, or when a rabbit makes the peace sign in the midst of a rank of saluting Nazis. And most interestingly is how we are also compelled to think forward, to what happened before...why the bunnies are going through so much trouble to die, and why they want to die in the first place.
Hmm...I think I'm on the verge of sinking into one of those depressed periods when school is particularly tiresome. Gotta drag myself out of this mood of constant irritation. My classmates don't deserve to bear the brunt of it.
Anyway, was reading my cousin's blog, and was struck by the amount of Hardy that she unwittingly wrote:
"let me state a fact: we r gurls.. we would like to share ur burden.. be treated like a buddy.. be pampered... we r not ur maids... we dun ask for romantic happenings everydae.. but at least surprise us wif a rose or wadeva occasionally... DUN BLAME US FOR GOING AFTER FOREIGNERS and leaving u guys to go for vietnamese or china brides... we go for dreams... we go for shakespears & romeos... NOT wu song nor batman... we dream to b cinderellas... and if u all insist on shattering our dreams... of coz we will venture far and wide to fulfil our dreams."
I hope she doesn't mind me quoting. But is that Eustacia Vye or not? It's surprises like these, the abundant wisdom that resides in the most unassuming people, the profundity in the simple, that sustain my faith in the wider population...if we thinkers and leaders manage to screw up Singapore, these people will survive. And we can only succeed with them.
Kelong
Now suffering from Kelong Withdrawal Symptoms. Came back to Singapore at 10.30 this morning, and reached home an hour later, and because amazingly I managed 28 hours with only 40min of sleep on the kelong and the previous day, I've slept the better part of Easter afternoon away. Woke up just now to start to prepare to go to church, and it's doubly depressing because it's not morning, and not Saturday. But the trip was grand stuff.
Much of what happened on the kelong was eerily similar with the last time. Heh, we practically went to the same place...the kelong from two years ago was the neighbour of the one where we stayed at yesterday night. It had the usual stuff...open toilets, partitions with enormous sleeping platforms, a back porch for barbecues and a bouncing dock, with a finger pier stickling out into the water. And inside, a karaoke set and mahjong =P Three seafood meals (Heaven!), with the barbecue including sambal stingray (ecstasy!). This time, the kelong didn't have so much open air space, however. I got the impression that this place was smaller, more cramped than the other. But nothing out of the ordinary, really.
But of course this time there's the difference of there being no family (or rather there was only the very extended Neo family around, which you could say were blood relations a few dozen times removed...) and lots of friends instead. This is basically the reverse of the situation two years ago...this time it was not a family retreat, but a sort of class chalet thing. And that, of course, changed everything.
There were three couples in our group of thirteen, which was rather unfortunate for Soph, the fourth girl. Heh, it was a tad awkward, I guess, because on this overnight thing there was no privacy, and anyway, they weren't planning to be unobtrusive. Which meant that they attracted a lot of flak from the seven singles. It is really easy to join in the good-natured teasing, though I still maintain that what they do with themselves is their own business, as long as they don't impinge on anyone (And we were so indulgent...our entire sleeping platform was given up to the use of two couples =P). It was interesting to observe, at any rate. Sometimes they could have been on a totally different kelong, what with their absorption in more immediate concerns...and sometimes it is quite sweet. Like when they fell asleep together - one guy was hugging his girl; the other was hugging my guitar (first time I saw someone fall asleep in midstrum) =P
Anyway, it was a really interesting night. Mark trying to disguise his more...undesirable traits, Chun Long (trying) to fish with his rod and reel specially bought for the occasion, and then dinner in which Mark didn't know how to peel prawns, and Soph didn't know how to eat chili crab (inconceivable as it were). That night, a heck of a lot of mahjong, but it wasn't my night. Ben and Ian won three times in a row, and with so many flowers that it was quite spooky. Bathing after midnight in the female toilet (because it had the most water - and anyway, what's there to differentiate a male hole in the wooden deck with a female one?), with the ice-cold water shocking me awake and refreshing my adrenaline batteries (maybe that's how I managed without all that sleep...)
The singles plus Mark (because rather unfortunately Chern came down with an inconvenient fever and had to sleep most of the night away) went right to the end of the finger pier after midnight to sing, and our yodeling probably ruined the fishing on the nearby floating dock =P It was quite funny, trying to remember all those golden oldies by the Carpenters, the Beatles, Abba and so on. Eventually everyone was nodding off an it was only me and Kats still yowling away to the full moon hanging above us, so we knew it was time to go back in for a stimulating session of mahjong.
The dock, though, must be my favourite place of the whole kelong. It was floating, which meant that you could feel the moving sea, and you could also stick yr feet into the seawater (and whatever the kelong throws into it...better not to think about it =P), and at night it was the darkest place on the kelong that was not underwater. First was chatting with Soph about big philosophical life issues at the end of the dock, like what to do when we grow up, how we would like to die, and whether our feet would be attacked by sharks or crocs lurking under the kelong =P And then we were reading Oranges are Not the Only Fruit on our backs on the dock; the cream-coloured page forms a really good contrast with the blue sky white-feathered. And then like after midnight the entire single troupe plus Mark was gathered at the dock's end discussing the Seven Deadly Sins, for want of something better to talk about.
Hmm...it is interesting how love works among us. We had three couples on the kelong, each one with their own way of loving, and then there's those that have broken up saying that we should not get into a serious relationship. How is it that when you're attached you would recommend it to everyone, and then when you're single again your opinion on the subject gets turned around totally? Of course, everyone should try everything once, loving included. But I would feel under pressure to show intimacy if I were attached an in the kelong environment. Every touch and isolated talk (because if a couple was together, it was impolitic to be in the same general vicinity; hence the sleeping platform) would attain a new pressure of obligation, intended or no. The bottom line is that you'd be expected, and you will, act differently with who is basically one of your soulmates. And all this confirms my GUT (grand unified theory, as Winterson would point out) feeling that being attached just adds a lot of formalities and unnecessary pressures to a deep friendship. Being attached seems like a heck of a lot of unwonted trouble.
Heh, which I guess would explain why these kelong trips always seem to have a solitary element to them. Ironically enough, in the cramped and intimate settings of the kelong, I feel more of a need to be alone sometimes. Firstly there was the sketch to do (not as good as the one from the other kelong, I think...but Thong borrowed my book to sketch too, so nice pictures resulted from the trip anyway =P), and then I was on the dock at midnight doing a rosary to mark the Easter vigil. Hehheh, it was really funny because Cheriel popped by and was quite anxious about my wellbeing.
SHE: What are you doing? Are you all right? What are you thinking of? Are you contemplating suicide?
ME: I'm doing a rosary.
SHE: Uh...
ME: I'm praying.
SHE: Why?! Or let me rephrase the question. Why are you praying?
ME: Because it's Easter.
SHE: Oh... (bounces off the dock)
Ah, bless that girl, she was trying to sell tissue in aid of the RG Tsunami Fund all through the trip. Even her persistence (or stubbornness) is endearing =P
And then at sunrise, I was basically the only one awake to watch the moon set and the sky turn red from the East. It's always a sight to behold, that period of time when the sun hasn't broken through the cloud cover, but bleeds all over the underbellies of the clouds and then smears the highest clouds outwards away from it into broad featherstrokes of red on turquoise. That's my favourite time of sunrise, when all the colours are visible, and you can look without burning your eyes. The unfortunate thing was that I was the only one awake; tried to wake Mark so he could take advantage of a quiet romantic moment, but in the end everyone preferred to sleep =S Ah well. Being on the dock alone, at midnight and sunrise, has its own appeal. With your eyes closed, you can feel the sway of the live ocean, and feel the wind cocooning you entirely, and it's like a cradle, one of those sarongs in which babies are rocked to sleep, except colder. It creates its own tranquility, the gentle rocking of the dock and the plash of water. It is a pity no one else was awake to appreciate it, but then again, this kind of thing is probably best appreciated alone.
But we couldn't see the stars, which was an enormous drawback. It was a cloudy night, and though the disc of the moon was visible enough (full moon last night), only a few stars were visible. And approaching morning, the clouds parted to reveal lots more stars, but the kelong was so brightly lit up that there was nowhere dark enough to see anything spectacular. In my efforts to catch the stars out I was running all over the kelong looking for the darkest spot, and in the end I got into the docked bumboat, but there was no nice viewing angle to be had anywhere. On a futile search for glimpses of stars on four hundred square metres of planks and piles in the seabed mud.
But the kelong brought back all sorts of romantic notions of the sea. Spent the entire trip out and back on the bumboats on the aft deck with Soph, and on occassion a suntanning Kats and a sketching Thong. The wind in your hair when you stand up, the swaying of the little boat and the unpredictable splashes of water are positively Conradian =P Soph and I were having a competition of who could get wetter from the spray. Heh, even thinking of it now invokes a swaying sensation, and the screen starts to tilt.
It was cool to be back at sea again, and so close to it, and with so many good people. It was a different kind of experience from the last time, to be sure, but there's nothing bad in newness inherently. We should go back again! The next time we're planning a class chalet, go to a kelong instead. I got quite a few pics on the digicam, and I will upload as fast as possible. If only I didn't have to go to school tomorrow...there're no water bodies in school.
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Hmm I realise that the depression was just a kneejerk reaction to being slapped in the face by reality. And when troubles come, they come hard and fast. Went to Easter mass, and feel a lot happier. It was a great service...haven't felt so good after church for a long time. It's irrational, I know, but I delighted a lot in the ritual and grandeur and solemnity and majesty of the service, the hymns, the incense and so on. It's a kind of wonder at the promise of eternal life, I guess. The mere fact that a promise as amazing as this is made is astonishing in itself.
When the priest was going around blessing the congregation by sprinkling holy water all over the place, I suddenly thought of the spray from the bumboats and on the dock, and how blessed we were to have that night at all, and how marvellous this life is, and how nicely things work out in the middle of a sea.
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Arh...I would like to remind you that I have myself never been attached, so how the hell am I supposed to know?
Holy Week
Common tests are over, and it's a beautiful view from this side of the valley of doom =) Heh, did the recreative question for Lit PC, which was like the most fun exam that I ever did. The downside is that it is quite risky, but what the heck, this common test is the last screw-up-able test before the prelims. Even the next common test will have the implication of being the prelims to the prelims. Heh but it was quite hard to write cohesively under the pressure of a time limit. After a while I realised that I was just replacing words in the passage with my own words, which is one step away from plagiarism. And the funniness of my passage relies on the use of irony - in other words, it's only funny if you compare it with the original. If you read it by itself it isn't really remarkable.
But this kind of exam is on the right track I think...an attempt to assess creative writing skill. It may not be perfect, but it's the best so far. And the PC, though comparatively less risky, won't be nearly as fun.
Stoned around in Orchard after the test. Heh, talk of reality TV, pool, Kino browsing, HMV hunting, and basically a feverish sort of having fun and staving off the time when the after-test euphoria needs must come to an end. Orchard is like a cloak to wrap yourself in after excessive intellectual exertion. When your brain is tired, you appreciate that poser length of street more. But for getting lost in the crowd, I prefer Toa Payoh. It's a brilliant place now...very lively, and the crowd there speaks to my heart more clearly. It's a friendlier feeling, a simpler feeling.
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Saw Grace's TSD exam yesterday. It was brilliant =) And once again, my faith in TSD has been vindicated...I don't know how they managed it. The performance yesterday had admirable levels of dramatic tension, I thought, and the execution was rather convincing, even with the finesse and technicality of Kabuki. The costumes were spectacular (although there was a bit of a technical error with the onstage costume change), and the acting was satisfying. There were moments when there was a thrill down my spine, like when she was wielding the sword and speaking of the murder of her father. Quite chilling, the aircon notwithstanding =)
Hmm...there are bits to smooth out, to be sure. The performance can be tighter, with quicker transitions and more precise light and sound cues. I think the sound would be better if they can crossfade between tracks, because Jap music is quite jarrirng, and at times the piece could do with reinforced continuity. The costume change filled the piece's requisite quota of technical glitches. The sword dance got a bit draggy after a while. The crying was so fake (intentionally, I hope) that it was quite painful to watch (which could have been the whole point). Yeah...things that can be ironed out with more rehearsal. But all in all quite a good rendition, I've got to say. An admirable job considering the limitations she was working with =)
Managed to see two other exam pieces that day too. Basically spent the whole afternoon in VJ TSD, kind of living vicariously the fantasy of what might have been. Pretended that I was a J1 helping out at any piece that needed a props crew. Heh, the J1s are really endearing, at least the ones that Grace has for her team. They are so dedicated that it's almost scary. Yes...having a production team like that is definitely a blessing.
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Holy Week this week, and it's the time for reflection again. This is the time of year when my faith actually has a detectable mystical quality to it. Church visits on Maundy Thursday, and it was rather poetic and quirky to be on a bus in the middle of the highway singing hymns, rather than karaoke ballads or "Ten Thousand Bottles", and saying the rosary. And today's Good Friday service, a two-hour affair with Stations of the Cross, Veneration of the Cross, and the most solemn Holy Communion of the liturgical year, and a minimum of singing (I always thought that we couldn't sing in Church on Good Friday). Today's service was so solemn and grand, it's easy to get caught up in the wonder at the notion (the fact, even) that someone actually sacrificed himself for your sake. It's a fantastic, a glorious notion. The greatest love is when someone sacrifices his life for someone else. And there were so many theatrical elements at the service...understatement, solemnity in ritual, spectacular costumes, grand yet quiet hymns. The service would be compelling to anyone, Christian or not.
And there has been a lot to thank God for, the last year. Was reflecting on the last year on the church visitations on Thursday...it is really conducive. Lent is the time for reflecting on your life and wondering where you could have done better, and setting yourself to the task. Anyway, it's amazing, when I think about it, the goodness that I've had in life.
God, I thank you for all the experiences you gave me last year, all the big events and major developments, and also all the little things that pop up everyday. Thank you for making every day special in its own way. Thank you for including surprises in everyday events, and for revealing your goodness in every corner. And for all the trials, and your unfailing support with each and every cross. Thank you for letting me find my way through all those experiences to this point, and thank you for helping me to appreciate what I have, and what others have. It has been an enriching year all around, a special year, filled with magical moments.
And thank you, God, for protecting all of us. My family, my classmates, my friends, local and abroad, and my soulmates. Thank you for preserving old friendships and creating new ones. Thank you for allowing us to experience so much together. Thank you for giving us all companionship and fortitude, and for not leaving any of us to the ravages of loneliness. These people have made everything worthwhile, and I'm glad that you've given me a chance to be with them on this part of their journey. Thank you for blessing all of us with each other.
More Dreams
On a 1.5h break from studying now, and I have fifteen minutes to spare before I go off for my daily dose of dinner and Spongebob =) After all, RJ students especially need to indulge in something brainless...
Been having strange dreams nowadays. I don't know what's sparked them off. There was one about flying a spaceship and shooting down asteroids, and another one...well, it's too risky to post it publicly, because the cast of that dream is quite sensitive. And anyway, I guess to some extent it is better off forgotten. But these dreams are so vivid, and they seem to have something to do with real life (spaceship notwithstanding). I wonder where they come from. Can dreams be sparked off spontaneously? Is it a slippage in neurons that uncovers unseen connections? Who's trying to talk to me in my sleep?
Anyway, we're past the halfway mark for the common tests. It's not too bad, from this perspective. Lit yesterday was good, I think...was consciously forcing myself to go through the three step process of finding interesting language, explaining how it causes an emotional effect and then showing how that effect illuminates the central artistic purpose. But then by the time I got to Frost I was rather worn out. And today's Econs and Maths wasn't spectacularly good. Didn't finish the Econs essay, and I identified an MCQ error seconds after the order to stop writing came. And I didn't get any nice numbers for Maths. All rather dissatisfying, I must say, the taunting tang of knowing that you could have done better had you had the time. Which idiot decided that 45min was enough to write an essay anyway?
Heh, and the hall isn't really a good place to take exams. It's freezing cold! They don't seem to have any means of controlling the temperature, so it's either stuffy Singapore, or the Arctic Circle. I mean, I can be quite comfortable in winter Taiwan gear. And in preparation for th 5 essays tomorrow, I'm going to bring gloves...I just can't stand it anymore.
But it hasn't been too overwhelming. I've had nice help from lots of people...the notes coming out for this common test are more proliferant than usual, and I must say that some are spectacular. Especially Kelly's EHist notes! They're immensely useful, and fill in all the blanks that I had forgotten were there. Super Duper notes are actually quite holey - you need to know what's supposed to be there beforehand. Heh, and the added incentive of looking forward also helps tide over the times. Got Grace's DS on Thu, and then the Holy Week pilgrimages, and then Good Friday as a day of rest, and then off to the Kelong on Saturday! All in all quite an enticing combination of events, and well deserved too, after all that we've gone through for the common tests.
Was walking back from Suntec today through Citylink after studying USSR's collapse and New Imperialism, and walking past the glass wall of Nooch, it was intriguing...to see the shadowy reflections, my fingers running along the cool glass, and then this woman coming the other way with the same intent as me, to walk along the glass. So much reflection...and then I thought of the road paved with cloaks and leaves.
Heh, with such random allusions and disordered thoughts, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that I dream...
Dream
I had the scariest dream ever last night. It involved quite a lot of Humans, and my brother. Apparently my bro was part of this research team doing a project of some sort in an old sewer tunnel under RJ. Well I was worried because they didn't really know what they were doing, and my suspicions were proven when they somehow blew up a tunnel wall and the whole place was flooded with water. After the initial alarm, me, Kats and some other guy got to the tunnel entrance, which was drained by that time.
I remember clearly saying that I dared not go in. Kats and the other guy entered, and in the meantime more people arrived...Jes and Yiting among them. Kats came back out, and I asked if anyone made it. He replied in this dazed tone that it was totally devastated inside. And then I was on my knees begging him to repeat his answer.
The next day, I was late for school, if somehow that's important. And then, strangely enough, Claud gives me a card of condolence, and it's weird because this was one of the few times in dreams that I'm able to read. And the somehow I ended up at the tunnel entrance with Jes, and we were kind of reminiscing...or reflecting...something like that. And then I suddenly remember that Greg wasn't in the tunnel at the time of the explosion, that he had been called away on some other assignment by his Council.
What's really disturbing about the dream isn't that I thought that Greg died...though when I woke up there was a really deep sense of dread that wasn't quite dispersed by seeing him walking into my room to get clothes to change into (in fact right now there's still lingering uncomfortableness, at this time at night). But it was the feelings I had, and that I was so awared that I had. There was of course the expected grief, but that didn't seem to feel very profound, almost as if I knew that I was only putting on an act. Underlying that was a sort of anticipation for all the sympathy that this tragedy would invoke...I was almost plotting how to make the best of it. And then there's the self-reflexive guilt and disgust at wanting to exploit the death of my brother so selfishly. And when I remembered that he actually didn't die, the painful spurt of relief and glee was almost vindictive, as if everyone else that did die didn't matter.
I don't know what it's supposed to say about me and my brother. I'd like to think that our relationship is closer than that...well, at least that it's closer than our days in CHS together. And I don't know where that dream came from, and why I can remember it so vividly. Reminds me of a poem we read before, the one about the kid feeling guiltily relieved that his dad died, because the sympathy invoked would keep of the bullies for a few days. But...where did it come from? I feel quite disturbed by this kind of unexpected exploration of the depths of my own psyche, as if I'd taken a submarine and descended into the Marianas Trench of my consciousness...it's horrific, but I find that part of me is fascinated by it...a bit too fascinated, perhaps. This examination of myself is too intimate for my own liking...
* * * * *
Met up with the Texprog people last night. Heh, well it wasn't a lot of them...only YS, Ben Moh, and later Angie, Zeyi and Clara. And only the six of us in that huge bungalow at the SAFRA resort, the one where we had the notorious Sec 4 end-year class party. It was a time of reminiscing indeed, what with the Texprog people together again, and going to the airport to eat Swensens for dinner (the airport is splendid now that they've renovated T2's interior!), and going back to the bungalow which is designed exactly like the one two years ago, where Kats drank half a bottle of tequila on an empty stomach =P
While waiting for the others to get to the bungalow, was chatting with YS about universities and careers. Hmph, I don't seem to be talking about much besides that nowadays. But she does have an intriguing world view, one that I'm quite amazed that anyone is still able to hold. Let's just say that it's either really noble or really naive. But either way I think it's quite admirable =) I guess to a large extent that is what makes her such a good friend - her frankness and daring and determination to do good, extending to her diet and her intrepid explorer's spirit and her dance and everything in between.
Of course, good old Moh was his usual hilarious self. Watching the two of them battle it out over the ethics of eating meat was hilarious =) Of course, I was trying to be unobtrusive, standing in the queue with them waiting to be seated, and trying to ignore the stares of the Japanese family behind us...But that's how you befriend Ben...you don't begrudge him his most unbecoming moments, because at his hands they all end up being funny =)
Hmm...didn't get a chance to meet up with the other three for very long, though. By the time they got to the bungalow I was like half an hour away from going back home. Arh...it's a pity, really. Seems like we've drifted apart, which I guess is unavoidable given the added distance of being in different schools. But it still intrigues me, how these things worked out...one from Primary School catechism class, the other from an emcee job at the sec three SMP, and these far flung acquaintances somehow found their way onto Texprog. Hopefully such circumstances will happen again...
Scattered Thoughts
Hmm...rereading the last entry, I was too harsh on the DS. In the capable hands of a TSD student it should be able to reach a performance-standard of some sort, even if it isn't the sterling standards that I've come to associate with them. Heh, maybe I was spoiled with all the brilliant performances I've seen so far coming out of there. But TSD or not, all actors face the same problems with communication and portrayal. All very post-modern things. The thing that will set them apart is how they decide to approach and solve the problem. I await eagerly whatever Grace has up her sleeve =) At any rate, I'd rather help all week with her DS than sit the common tests. But at least her actual performance (calling it an exam would cheapen it) would be on Thu, which is just perfect timing for us (it's the first time I've heard of Humans pple finishing exams before the Science guys =P)
Been doing up notes today, and yet it feels like I've wasted a lot of time today. Played SimCity for the whole morning, because I corrected a bug in the programme and now I can build the big buildings =P Heh, I wouldn't mind taking urban planning in Uni, but I don't have the required foundation. So I guess my megalomaniac tendancies will have to be restricted to fake virtual landscapes =P Anyway, it seems like finally people are loosening up with their notes. Received Mr. Sowden's macroeconomy notes which effectively make my ones obsolete =P And Chun Long's Crisis of Communism notes are great...I daresay even more useful than my own notes. It's nice to see signs that other people will be generous too. That's the entire idea of the whole Super Duper exercise anyway, to maximise the utility of every piece of notes.
Guitar is in better straits now...some of the SYF pple quit on their own accord, so we have to cut less people by force. And Yu Hsin is back in the conductor's chair, which means a more rigorous practice, which at this stage is eminently more satisfying. I guess right now I won't feel like we've done something constructive during prac unless no one is condescending with us and will tell us our faults straight up. Anyway, it feels like we're going places, what with a surprising level of literary analysis being carried out on the piece of music. It's the first time I've seen it done on notes, and it's quite fascinating. And we actually sound not too bad right now, from the perspective of the audience. Trying to listen to the whole ensemble from within doesn't yield reliable results at all.
Met up with the Pre U Sem people on Tue night at J8 for dinner at where else but Pastamania =P Well, there were only Chiat Ying, Rash, Gerard, Shawn, Saw Hoon and me, but it was grand to see them all again anyway. Somehow it feels more homey to be with them, and that's a nice change from the usual crowd of RJ/VJ/HC people. All you people are great to be with, to be sure, but after a term, it feels like I'm getting divorced from real people, if you know what I mean. No offence, of course. It's just a different kind of appeal...the ease of unassuming simple chatting, no ulterior motives. And it's humbling in its own way. One must be reminded what normal people's lives are like. Puts things in perspective. It reminded me that I'm quite incapable of carrying out a conversation in slang, and on their wavelength - and that is quite a life skill worth knowing.
I can't really pin down why they are so lovable. Hehheh, it was memorable, that moment when we were all laughing at our antics on the last night of Pre U Sem...that Mission Impossible scenario of sneaking back to our dorms =P It's something to do with the believability, and simplicity, of how they see and do things. It's times like these when the importance of simplicity is brought out. Perfection lies there, after all.
Hmph. And this is juxtaposed with the Lit Wings' publication. I'm sorry if I sound sardonic about that, but the longer this thing drags, the less regard I have for it. The issue is not that I'd like more of my stuff published (though I won't deny that it hurt for a moment to know that Cyril Wong rejected Violinist, but I can't really blame him for that, now can I?) - that would be too petty. But it's just that everything is turning so pretentious. I mean...Cyril Wong's forward is just condescending, really, and lots of the poet bios are so prim and proper...it's as if we were actually printing good poetry.
Now I'm of the stand that local poetry is actually better than we give it credit for...the hidden talents in all the Humans classes of all the JCs just give evidence to this. But I think we shouldn't take to any pretensions that local poetry is good. The biggest problem with this publication, I think, is that people take it way too seriously. I mean, is this anthology really an important milestone in the history of Singaporean youth literature? To make it sound good is a big mistake, I think, because we simply don't have the substance to stand up to detailed analysis. Rather, we should take a more lighthearted approach...it's the usual tactic, to be funny if you can't be good. At this rate it's just becoming one pretentious piece of work. I don't particularly feel proud that I'm being published under these circumstances (heck, we actually have to pay the publisher to print us!). If things go on like this I may not recommend anyone actually spending money on it.
Bleah...okay, enough ranting. Tomorrow will meet up with the Texprog people, which will be excellent. That train of thought has set me off on a trail for all the songs that have meaning for me, basically because they're attached to the trips that I've made. Each trip has its share of memorable songs...
Yunnan - Guan Huai Fang Shi, Peng You
OBS - Peng You again (CHS pple always revert to this song)
Frexprog One - Life is a Road, Angel
Texprog - Sun Yanzi's Wo Ye Hen Xiang Ta
The last one is a favourite for the moment. It has an excellent music video, because apparently it's the OST for a Japanese movie about this girl who knows that she has exactly one day to live, and her and her fiance spend the day touring Japan and trying to avoid death. She eventually collapses in the airport, in a particularly heartwrenching tableau. I remember watching that music video on the last days of Texprog, when we were staying at the hostel, cos it was like the rage at that point in time in Taiwan. And falling asleep on our night vigil, and feeling intensely sad because this song was so appropriate and timely. It's the profound sadness that you can only get from making fast and simple friends and having to be separated from them indefinitely after a short and intense period of togetherness.
Courses
Mmm Birmingham Birmingham Birmingham. What a solid sounding name =) The more I read about that school (and they put in a lot of effort for their publicity material...one prospectus and one Singapore Society publication) the nicer it sounds. The joint degrees they offer are particularly enticing. Imagine...European Studies and French - no need to specialise, you get to do everything from literature to economics to history and most intriguingly, sociology, and if I take a language with it, then I can focus on one country and get to study there for a year! Most delicious. When I was reading the prospectus it was like bling! How convenient =) Listen to this...
Culture, Society and Communication (Europe) with a Modern Language BA
At th start of the programmes you are introduced to key ideas and strategies of cultural inquiry. Central themes studied include the media; representations of peoples and their narratives; national and trans-national identities; the cultural industries; and the complex relationships between culture, society and language. Unusually, these programmes cover both Western and Eastern Europe.
French Studies BA
The first two years build upon your existing written, oral and aural skills in the French language, and give you the opportunity to study the literature, politics, media, culture and history of modern France. The third year is spent in France, normally following a programme of study at one of our many partner universities. A wide range of specialist options is available in the final year. Current choices include Autobiography, Film, Stylistics, Contemporary French Cinema, the Algerian War, and Historical Crises of the 20th Century.
Modern Languages and European Studies (Society, Culture and History) BA
The general European core and optional topics you study in this programme include European Integration, European Film, Contemporary and Historical Images of Europe, the European Novel, Women in Europe, European Drama and Theatre, Translation Theory and Practice, and European Romanticism. You also study the language and culture of one or more European countries in depth.
These are the highlights of a rather impressive range of options offered by Birmingham. I think these are more practical than the other ones I was considering...at least they seem to have more blatant links with the real world, although I haven't heard of anyone on PSC actually choosing to study strange things like these. I wonder if they'd even let me apply with these programmes. At any rate, I figure that I can always do modules involving Lit and Drama, or I could just continue reading, and acting in their Drama Club. Perused the English course pages, and they don't seem to be particularly intriguing...in fact, with their focus on critical analysis, it seems to be what we're doing now. The thing about these three courses is that they kind of allow you to look at Lit in its cultural and social context, which is something quite new to me.
Anyway, it's quite exciting to read these prospectuses. Even if the programmes aren't interesting, reading about the university life and the towns and cities they're situated in is fascinating...it reawakened my old love affair with SimCity =P Was reading the SingSoc publication from U of Birmingham, and I find it quite remarkable that the Singaporean tone of writing still persists even after years of exposure to the English of the English. Seems like our country-bunpkin accent is quite hard to eradicate =P I know that it's probably not as rosy a picture as all these prospectuses make it out to be, but it's enticing, to think of studying these subjects with such flexibility in such a liberal and mature setting, and at the doorstep of the cultural treasures of Europe. It's enough to send me daydreaming.
But of course the thing is to get there in the first place. For that, I'd need my As and Ss, and that elusive little scholarship. It's time to check up on other scholarships besides MOE and PSC...Jardine sounds good, for starters. And probably the banks also offer something, though those may not be applicable in my case. At any rate, better to have more options.
* * * * *
I'm a tad unsettled with Grace's DS. It's about one and a half weeks to the performance day, and she hasn't gotten the stageplay confirmed yet, and the actors haven't memorised their lines, and the sound and lights and props are still in limbo. Arh...it reminds me of the chaos that defined the week before Lysistrata's opening night last year. And I really hope that a Lysis-esque farce doesn't happen in TSD. That would be really disillusioning.
Was working on her stageplay with her today. Hmph...I still think that the script has disturbing elements of melodrama in it. A personal preference, to be sure, but I really don't find it easy to watch when the use of space is mediocre and the plot is predictable. Heck, even a bad script can be made interesting with innovative positioning, and her script really isn't half bad. It's just that the time is really running low, and lots of things are still left to be confirmed. I don't know if the needed amount of tension can be reached to pull off her script well by the time it needs to be staged. I sure as hell hope so, though. It would be really disappointing otherwise.
Anyway...once again I was interfering in her piece. Hmph. I guess by now I should know that it's not counted as interference if she asks for it, but I have to continue being careful that I don't take over her piece from her. I think this afternoon's session was the ideal...like neither of us was explicitly directing, just working out what would be the most artistic way of getting the message across...in other words, simultaneously refining the artistic purpose. It is refreshing to be able to experiment in real time. But my only wish is that it had happened sooner.
Heh, anyway, I maintain that there is such a thing as artistic professionalism. I guess I can do what I do on stage because I am onstage, and I can make a distinction between my character and my personality. So i's not me on the stage really, but my character using my body as a conduit for expression. Which, I guess, allows me to get away with things onstage that I would not permit myself to do offstage...But the stage is an experiment in real life sociology, I believe. And as long as it's approached as a self-contained entity in itself, the it's easier to let loose and do what is required to obtain the desired results. Yeah...I'd like to see it that way. Not to say that acting isn't enjoyable, of course. Why else do I keep coming back to the stage? =P But the thing is to remember that it is, at the end of the day, just acting.
End of One Term
Hmm...and so ends one term. At this point in time I feel kind of sad, cos a quarter of our remaining time in RJ as a class has come to an end. And from now on it's more or less a constant pressure of work that will just grind away at our spirits. My main complaint is still that we don't have enough time to get bored of each other. There is a certain authenticity in tiresomeness, becoming so used to some people that you have an urge to get far away from them to find some excitement in your life. Yeah, it's a bit perverse, but I think there's something in it =P
Where does this leave me? At this point in time, I don't know really...on one front, I'm continually surprised at how stable some of my relationships are. And even now new friendships are coming in from unexpected sources. I've been busy enough, what with the lingering ghost of somethingood, TSD and the Fruits and Veg Cult performances, and the crashing of lots of stuff in the different JCs. But on the other hand, this has been quite a disturbing term...what with the Monday Incident and all its reprecussions. I wonder what I'd be feeling now, if things hadn't been brought to a head by that one SMS and the resulting blog entry. So some things are falling apart, and it is painful for me, because I had not wanted things to get to this point. But while not all things change at the same time, everything changes.
Who can I talk to? It's all quite confusing, this situation that I find myself in. So far it's only been good old Jes, but lately more of Chern and Thong too. I hope they don't mind...it's just that they were conveniently located, and I needed to get some things off my chest =P Some fears I don't know how to face...
Was hoping to watch a movie yesterday to mark the end of term, but everyone was too busy going home =P In the end went home too with Mel, and chatted about uni stuff, art, and writing. She actually has some really good stuff...some of the images are extremely haunting...and she has this one line that struck me strongly, a line that I won't repeat here cos I think she deserves her intellectual property rights for that one line =P And to some extent I find her poetry more sincere than anything I've seen in the publication. I think it's because it's marked by the intensity of loss. Just like Jem's Remembrance. When you know the background of the poem, what inspired the poet to write it, then the poem becomes lots more powerful.
Anyway, we were sitting in BK dispatching a pile of fries, and the scenario struck me as quite a strong image. I added it into my latest story =P I'll upload it in the next batch of updates, but do go and check out the new prose and poetry there...see if it's more mature than anything that came before. If it is, then it's because of the influence of vetting for the publication, and the recent glut of poetry from closet poets in class. Lots of people can really write, and they should give themselves more credit! But not in the way that the publication gives a kind of self-serving credit...
* * * * *
What do you make of these images?
...holding a hand that is so soft, but as cold as mine...
...watching a Novena through frosted glass, and seeing a white-caped figure walk into, and then out of, the foggy glass square...
...a chised old face bled of all its emotionlessness by enduring decades of repeated emotional erosion...
...leaning on someone else and dozing off while Sun Yan Zi's Wo Ye Hen Xiang Ta MTV plays on...
* * * * *
Went to the Education UK show today. Got new prospectuses, and I think they'll give me a clearer idea of what I want to study in University. Also talked to Ms Ong in CHS yesterday, and that was enlightening...she identified my problem for me, which is that I'm choosing my dream university before I choose what I want to study there, when it really should be the other way around. Anyway, I'm quite divided over what to do. If I want to be practical about it, I'll do something politics-based, even though I'm not very fond of politics itself. But maybe it'll be more like diplomacy than political maneouvrings. While I can't stand realpolitik in real life, I do admire people who try to be diplomatic. But if I want to do what I'm interested in then I'd do something Lit-based, especially some of the combined diplomas like the Lit + French combi that offers a year of study in France. And if I'm feeling really decadent (and perhaps recklessly suicidal - though no offence to TSD), I'll do drama.
The problem is that I know that doing the latter two will really restrict my choices greatly. I'll be stuck in the civil service forever, because I don't imagine that it'd be easy to sell myself on such liberal arts degrees in Singapore. The solution then would be to strike out abroad, but I really lack the entrepreneurial urge, at least at the moment (though Ong says that the civil service creates enough frustration to awaken an urge to start a startup firm). And I guess to a certain extent I feel like I've indulged myself enough by taking Humanities now. The problem is of course that once I make this choice, I'll be stuck with it. And if the limited humanities courses available at Uni are anything to go by, the real world would be much more open to a PPE diploma than a lit one.
I took humanities because I wanted to. Now I'm thinking whether I need to take politics.
Anyway, on the universities' front, York and Birmingham seem to be quite promising places. Birmingham has a positively immense Arts Fac, but York has PPE. Warwick seems to be a vibrant place too, and it has International Studies (and is actually on the outskirts of Birmingham). I have to say though that the British Council puts a lot of effort into recruiting Singaporean students, what with all the booklets and publications and events they put together for us. It was a wish come true, after getting the EduFrance stuff last week. These things are coming in very useful.
Oh, speaking of dream come true, remember me saying that my ideal meal would be a bowl of stew and bread in a comfy armchair in front of a fireplace? Well, I found this restaurant that comes spookily close! It's Cedele at Suntec City's Fountain Terrace. It sells large bowls of soup for $6.50, and with that you get free flow of quite a few types of bread and this rather nifty flavoured olive oil, which is fantastic for dipping. Hehheh, I was happily tucking into the simple fare of a large clam chowder, olive oil and hunks of bread for dipping =D That's an excellent place for cheap, delicious and filling food, and you can hang around there forever! Definitely recommended by the intrepid rustic side of me =)
* * * * *
Hmm...I'm extremely prolific today for some reason. One longish (well, longer than usual) metaphysical story, one long email and now this immense entry that I'd be surprised anyone actually bothers to finish =P And a little ten-minute script based on Grace's DS on Thu. Was working on some ideas I had for her piece, which has some rather strange restrictions, like the requirement for it to be more or less a monologue. I bet my script would be wholly incompatible with the requirements of TSD. Which is just as well...I really don't want to impinge overly on her creative process. Ownership is crucial in drama.
Kelong
Heh better now. Seems like that moment of despair lasted only one night...after a good night's sleep everything was forgotten, or rather consigned to a less obtrusive part of my mind. And anyway, it isn't really so bad, when it's put into perspective. These mishaps are quite intimidating when facing you right in the face, but time and distance rationalises it a lot. It's the kind of thing that you'd agonise over, and then look back later and wonder why you went through all that trouble.
There are still good things to keep my spirits up. There are plenty of people who are available to be listening ears, and I'm grateful for that. Really, when I went back to school the next day, it was with the feeling that I was well protected. And by now you should know how important it is to me to be safe. But then, I don't know if I can decide to drag anyone into my confidence. Or rather, there are many people who I can talk to, but few who I trust to be able to listen. So I'll still be looking out for my old-time soulmates...I think they'll understand.
Oh and yesterday brought a pleasant surprise. Was bumming around chatting with YJ online rather than studying for GP when Chern suddenly called, and the next thing I know I'm part of a class trip for a night's stayover on a kelong in Malaysia =) Once again an opportunity to get off this little island and back into that rural frame of existence. Ah...I remember that other night two years ago...the endless flow of seafood, mmmm...the stars that seemed so brilliant on the boards of that kelong. Lying back with my mum and bro stargazing and enjoying the flavor of shushing silence you can only get at sea. And quite timely too, now...I really look forward to it. First week's weekend for the new term, just in time to mark the end of common tests =) There's so much stuff to chat about under those stars...I expect it'd be quite interesting.
It makes all the difference...having something to look forward to lifts you far out of your troubles.
Anyway, a little something I dug up from the last time I was on a kelong...it's sappy and rather flamboyant, but I like the middle bit, if I do say so myself =) It's so alien from my memory now that when I read it again, I found myself doing a bit of PC on it...
The Darkness 18.10.03
It was blackness everywhere. The sea, lapping with its inky mystery, was a silent shimmering mirror, peaceful, inviting, unfathomable. The sky, despite entreaties to sparkle like black velvet and split diamonds, was but another infinity of nothingness. The distant land was a pale black bruise sandwiched between the thick swash of sea and the thicker night air.
Out of the quiet water rose an almost chaotic mess of rods and sticks driven into the unseen mud of a nonexistent seabed, and on this almost impossible scaffold was stacked an almost random spread of planks and tarpaulins. And on this improbable construction, there sparkled a bud of lights that almost managed to parry the thick black back. Almost.
And on this platform of glittering luminence (ouch...so flamboyant) in a universe of darkness (a double blow), there were the sizzles of roasting meat, the crackle of burning fat. A blanket of speech, laughter, and yowling that one would be led to believe was singing enveloped the scene. It was terrible in its desperate crudeness, yet wonderful, oh so wonderful, in its mere existence.
People were on the kelong, and they were happy, and it was the benevolent, unseen, incomprehensible night.
Wordless
I am suddenly gripped by a new kind of despair, as if I had been left behind in some dark corridor of this maze that we call life. I am feeling melodramatic, and I need someone to talk to, but it is too dangerous, I guess. I will not write it here because I have to think of you, my reader; I will not betray anyone here. But recent developments have troubled me...how did it come to be this way? How much of it is something that a past self chose for the right-now, right-here me?
Read Shirin's publication poem, and am thinking of all the things that I did not want to experience, the joys and the pains alike. I refused to know; now I still dare not know, though a part of me is melting away because others have taken that path before, and to a certain extent I am beginning to regard it as something that will ultimately be good for me.
I just don't want to upset this comfortable existence; rather than jump ship, to instead cling on to every last scrap of my dissolving mound of driftwood, in this our seething sentient sea.
in the face of this new vulgarity
I stand blushing and young
unable to use the proper word
* * * * *
Do you not think that there is a certain something incisively melancholic about a classical guitarist staring at a computer screen at instructions of how to play familiar love ballads, and strumming to the captive speechless audience, his fingers haloed electronically and plucking out a sad melody dedicated uniquely to the Somebody?
Decisions
Bah, I hate it when people abuse my goodwill. If I'm nice to you, it doesn't mean that I necessarily have plans for a deeper sort of relationship. It just so happens that most of the time niceness facilitates the conduct of professional business. And actually, most of the time, I'm open to friendship, but when people get too forward, it really is a put-off. Call me old-fashioned. Heck, call me insecure. The old crush from the Monday Incident seems to be back, and I can't seem to shake her off that notion of hers.
Well, maybe I'm being unfair to her. I'm sure that she means well, on some level or other. But I'm afraid I could not prevent my whole outlook of her from being tainted by that incident on that day. And the reprecussions that it has caused elsewhere...I don't think I can see her as a normal friend with no ulterior motives anymore. I'm thinking whether I should respond to this latest advance or not. Politeness and precedent say yes, but Enduring Love is a cautionary tale at the back of my mind.
Arh...most of the time, girls are enjoyable enough. Prolonged exposure does tend to produce a certain amount of friction, but when amour comes into the equation, things become more complicated than they are worth. Needlessly so. Well, let me say it clearly now. You may not know who or what I'm talking about on this journal, but here it is in plain language: I have no romantic intentions for anyone alive at this time.
* * * * *
Oh yar...Enduring Love. A story about a psychotic gay stalker and how his obsessive love destroys a seemingly harmonious marriage. Personally I don't like this book as much as Atonement. Style-wise I think Enduring Love is less refined, rougher around the edges. The plot isn't terribly inspiring, though the book does raise some intriguing questions. For example, if love really was enduring and for evermore, as us naive teenage romantics would like to think, then it really is a psychosis. A psychological condition known as de Clerembault's syndrome, whose sufferers don't stop loving someone intensely for decades on end. They somehow get the notion that they're loved by some stranger, and then from then on they're determined to maintain the illusion of love, (mis)interpreting their victim's every move as further confirmation of their secret shared love. In this way the one-sided love is immune from rationality's erosional effects. Quite scary, really, when you think about it. It's quite healthy in a relationship to have a bit of infidelity, in this case.
But the book really doens't make full use of the potential for exploration of this interesting notion, I think. It's pretty straightforward, how the protagonist tries (unsuccessfully) to throw off the stalker, and in the end is forced to shoot him to prevent him from committing suicide in front of him. There was an interesting moment when he considers that he's going mad, because no one believed his assertions that he was being stalked. But everything basically gets resolved too cleanly, I think. The stalker is put away in a loony bin, the couple makes up and no charges are pressed. In all, the book raises an interesting question, but lets us down by ending almost fairy-tale-like. They lived happily ever after. Well, happily enough anyway.
* * * * *
I hate it when my relatives stop by and try to give us a pep talk on the economic woes facing our future. Singapore is heading into an economic dead end, being forced off the edge of the cliff of economic doom by competition from China and Malaysia alike. Singaporean kids are too protected to survive in the real world. And et cetera et cetera. They take so much pleasure in repeating the same message over and over again, and I always feel like telling them that I've heard it all already, and I've tried to prepare myself for it. But that would have been uncouth; their pleasure is derived from my ignorance and ill-preparedness. And I can't really bring myself to rob them of their advisory acclaim. If they can be happy from pointing out my personal developmental shortcomings, then all right.
But still, I wonder if they actually think of what they're saying. I mean, it's all well and good to encourage us to go abroad to make contacts and gain experience now. But I remember how much of a chore it was to convince my mum to let me to go Yunnan the first time round. And the outright rejection of that trip to Silicon Valley in Sec 1. They may know that we need more real world experience, but when it comes down to the crunch, can they bear to throw their kids to the mercy of the foreign world and stand back? And anyway, the problems faced by today's kids are not less severe than before; they are just different from anything that has happened before. Granted, we'd probably die if we were plonked in the middle of the lofty Yunnan plains, but how many Yunnan children will actually excel if plopped in the middle of Singapore? Ambition and ability are not genetic to native Chinese, I believe.
I agree that us Singaporean kids probably need more daring to grow. But then again, we know that already, how we're so well protected and lazy and unmotivated to strive for excellence and all that. It'll be a happy day when something is actually done about it, rather than repeating the same unenforced mantras all the time.
* * * * *
We crashed the release of results for the A levels on Fri afternoon. Heh, seeing the J3s in their civvies (some conspicuously sans hair) shuffling to the hall in little clumps was quite evocative. They reminded me of sheep, multicoloured sheep, wandering around in groups, united against danger. And the unknown is friendlier when we are together, after all. The tension was palpable in the bright afternoon sun, and against the monoliths of the white J and K blocks, the J3s looked really small. Forlorn, even. Scared definitely.
We were standing in the gallery overlooking the J3s, and I was remarking to Thong that I felt Godlike, with all the electricity humming in the air. But as it turned out there wasn't much cause for concern...this batch exceeded the stellar performance of the last batch. It's positively obscene...100% passes in GP, and 99.2% got A or B in Lit. And a demigod obtained 4As and 3Ds, a feat that will not be repeated by our batch. The only way to exceed them would be to have everyone score an A or B for Lit. What a piece of cake, eh?
But we can have the doubtful but convenient title of the batch to produce the best results ever in the Bishan campus =P
But it's the personal level that makes it hard to celebrate. It must feel like crap to be among the 25% who did not get at least three As. And in our senior class there was a catastrophe, if you can call it that. Watching the seniors walking up to the table to get their hand shaken (or not shaken - a worrying sign) and to collect the slips of paper that are potent enough to make or break their dreams, I made a pact with Chern to have us collect and open each other's result slips next year. Perched on the balcony, we were basking in reflected glory, but also had to face the searing heat of reflected tension. In one year's time, I wonder if I'd be able to bring myself to even face Purvis across that table.
One year's time...arh, time is running out. There are only three terms left with us as a class, and I'm painfully aware that our tenure together is coming to a close even before I've had time to get tired of them. Get irritated, yes, but not outright bored. There just isn't enough time to take everything in, and so I'm forced to be selective of what I do, of the experiences that I accept, because there is so little time to create the memories that I want to cherish. To make every moment worthwhile. So far, school life has done a pretty decent job of being memorable. But I wonder what I'll remember this time next year.
But it wouldn't do to get caught up in nostalgia even before the year has ended. The worst thing I could do now is to get so caught up with the passage of time that I miss out of the passage of experience. It's hard to carpe diem if all you can seize is the passing of the day.
* * * * *
More options. I wonder what I'd be feeling one year from now, with results in hand and scholarships to apply for and universities to go to. We went for a talk on London University on Fri, and today I dropped in on Careers 2005. Got some pretty interesting things. The first impression is that not a lot of universities offer arts courses of any sort. Social science is not so bad, but literature and history seem to be realms that belong only to very select faculties. Like for UoL, King's and Imperial don't offer arts courses at all. And after today I really get the feeling that my options are limited (of course, I haven't decided if that's a bad thing, considering how averse I am of committing to such major choices).
LSE seems to be the most enticing for the moment. Their speaker was this rather impressive matronly psychology professor, who was obviously the most compelling speaker of the lot. And according to her account LSE is quite a vibrant place, full of people who want to question the higher-ups. Sounds like my kind of people =P And with a convenient location at the centre of London too. They have a really impressive library of four million social science books. More importantly, they actually offer international studies and politics. The other UoL college, the University College of London, offers Lit, but they seem to be quite high-brow...kinda like RI. And my aversions to RI apply to UCL too at the moment.
Today, attended a talk on French education. The UK and French systems aren't all that dissimilar. Two main points of difference - France doesn't have a mechanism to rank its universities, unlike UK's UCAS thingy and RAE and et cetera. And while a typical bachelor's at LSE costs more than 10,000 pounds per annum, the highly subsidised French system will give you one for a maximum of 800 euros a year! =D But then again, if I do get a scholarship, then I wouldn't want to scrimp on the tuition fees. France will probably remain a backup plan if I don't get a scholarship and I still want to go abroad.
Also looked into the University of Geneva, which has a faculty of linguistics, but that's entirely devoted to French and stuff like translation work. It's set in a great city, though. And apparently French universities offer courses in English, but I checked the list - and guess what...not a single humanities course on offer =S I hope it's a misprint.
So...at the moment, it seems like UK is more likely, and somewhere in a city would be good. After looking at the settings of countryside unis like Oxford, they seem to be rather boring actually. If I go for Lit it'll be pointless to do it in France. But if I go for international politics then both sides are viable, subject to there being an English politics course available in France. The other issue would be, of course, which subject I should choose. I'd love to do Lit out of pure interest, but that smacks of self-indulgence. International relations at least has a solid and blatant link to the real world. But the ultimate in luxury uni courses for me has to be theatre studies, a degree that'd be more or less useless in Singapore, but will definitely be fun to do =P But I think I'm set on going to somewhere in Europe, at least, subject to availability of courses. The hard part is getting to Europe, after all. Once you're inside, a whole continent lies on your figurative doorstep. I just wished that the alleged cultural hub of the world tried harder to attract foreign students to do humanities.
More Drama
Wah it's been quite a long time. Been tied up everyday, but pleasantly so. I guess having somewhere to go all the time makes one feel fulfilled, though the problem is once you get some time to breathe then the pretence of busyness falls apart. Much of this week has been me being occupied doing nothing much really.
Went to watch Romeo and Juliet put up by TNT, a British company, on Tue night. It was at Singapore Poly, which was a redeeming factor. Dover MRT station is the most beautiful station ever built, especially under the night lightup. The sweeps of metal and glass are done tastefully, unlike the Expo station, which is impressive only because of the scale of the simple shapes that make it up. And the architecture of the poly itself is breathtaking...the curves of the Admin block, the landscaped courtyard with terraced levels and the low connecting bridge, the cubbyholes under the walkway and the classical box architecture blending in with the new skewed lines. The composition, especially at night, makes the plaza a focal spot. A pity that RJ didn't get designed by a poly student...
Anyway. The R&J was mediocre, really. They cut the script, which meant that they pared down Mercutio to practically nothing, and Paris was reduced to this bumbling fop who did not die at the end. They cut the starting and ending sonnets. And the Romeo was quite a letdown...there really wasn't enough tension in the production to sustain my attention. Even though the script was cut, you get the feeling that the play is too long. The Juliet wasn't bad...though all I could think of when watching her act was how old the actress was. Especially when she was acting in her underwear. And speaking of which, they hardly made an effort with their costumes. Their gesture towards modernising the setting only made them look like a cheap imitation of Baz Luhrmann's R+J, I'd say.
Purvis said that the play was a good example of ensemble acting. Whatever that is. I would have thought that all drama was ensemble acting...there're a lot of people supporting the actors on stage, after all. And I never liked minimalist theatre...there's a fine line between tasteful minimalism and plain laziness, and to look like you mean it on stage, you have to be really strong actors. The people in the play didn't strike me as particularly committed to what they were doing on stage. Thus when the play ended, it was on such a low note of tension that the suicides seemed rather pathetic and petty, and the reconciliation later seemed rather forced. I daresay the TSD people could have done better. Heck, I daresay my old Edrama people could have done better. Ah well, so much for the acclaimed British theatre...it seems like they can still produce humdrum drama if they're not careful.
But to be fair, there were interesting moments...stage design was innovative, like how they simulated the balcony for that famous scene. And how they used curtains to mark off entries and boundaries. And they added singing and live music to the piece, which sounded good, but was more or less unnecessary in my opinion. They had brilliant tableaux, though, with rich costumes. The most brilliant costumes were for the crucifix tableau that was really striking when it appeared, and the Mantua people in their black trenchcoats and masks. The only trouble was that these scenes didn't appear for longer than five minutes.
Hmm...all in all not really worth the time to go watch it, though I have to admit that the time preceding the performance was interesting enough. Was reading Enduring Love in class while waiting for the time to part, and chatting with Soph and Chern. Heh, somehow or other I've been branded a Protector of the Short =P On the bus there, was remarking to Soph how the Bukit Timah area feels more homey than Bishan. Maybe it's the history...I spent six years studying in the area. Maybe it's the above-average income of its residents. Maybe it's the lack of tall buildings. But Bukit Timah is about as close to a high class suburb as will ever appear in Singapore, I'd say.
Anyway, moving on...I've got to say that RJGE exco meetings are becoming really vexing. Now that we've gone through all the trouble of auditioning and admitting new J1 SYF participants, we discover that we've overshot the maximum permissible ensemble size. So now we're going to have to drop a few people. The trouble is that we can't drop the J1s cos they've put in so much effort to catch up with the J2s in terms of guitar playing, and we can't drop the J2s cos none of them are bad enough to warrant something like that anymore, and they need the SYF points. Which raises the question of how the heck are we gonna decide who to drop, now that we've told everyone that they're going to get their SYF points?
I ask you, why the heck didn't we count the number of new players we needed before admitting new J1s? And which idiot decided that a guitar ensemble shouldn't exceed a certain size? How are we supposed to make a call like this? I feel really bad for the members, cos we're not doing a particularly good job protecting their interests, I'd say. We've bungled up enough things already, with the oversubscription of J1s. And the guilt attached to this is further amplified by a measure of shame, because it has occured to me to resign from the team so someone else will not have to take the fall. But I don't have that kind of reckless courage, and try as I might, I can't find it in myself to forego this SYF in a blaze of rebellious and selfless glory.
Bleah...if I were not in the exco I'd launch a protest...just like what happened with CHS SU. But anyway...Grace is having to rewrite her entire dramatic sequence. Apparently the teachers think that an entirely Kabuki piece would be too inscrutible for an ignorant audience. So now we're going to add naturalistic elements and a clearer plot with more straightforward characterisation. I just hope that these new changes can be put into effect as quickly as possible. Changing the entire script a month (three weeks) before the performance is definitely not reassuring.
Anyway, I have this idea...of a traditional Japanese geisha and a modern Jap kid walking in a countryside setting. The kid can talk, but the geisha only communicates in terms of dance moves. So they try to carry out a conversation, but they hit the linguistic barrier, and they can't communicate. But one day they have a breakthrough, and they start to be able to get to know each other better through their rudimentary common understanding. But at the end of the play, the kid misunderstands part of the geisha's dance and makes a grave mistake that threatens their fragile mutual understanding - and the play ends there. The key, of course, is to keep the dramatic tension high enough so the geisha's muteness can be justified in contrast to the kid's talkativeness. She has to say more with her dance than the kid can prattle on about.
