Chern and Church
Bah...I log into my freehost and find this huge red notice that says that the host is under hacker attack, and so my sites are inaccessible for the duration of the spamming. Oh well, at least I don't store my entries there. At least I can keep writing here. And wait out the storm. Some sick people just get high on the strangest things.
Anyway, this weekend's been dominated by church. In a surprising turn of events, Chern followed me to Sts Peter and Paul on Sat for the sunset mass, just to see what it was like. And this morning went to her Church of Singapore service, just to see what it was like. Hmm...after all that, I still think that there's nothing quite like a Catholic mass. It's grown too deeply in me to allow me to participate in a Christian service without being on my guard, I realised. But still...learning to keep an open mind.
Throughout this morning's thing, while they were praying for more souls to be saved, I was praying for an open mind. To be able to recognise God in all the forms that he is portrayed in by us humans. After all, at the heart of it, all Christians believe in the same thing; it's just the technicalities that get in the way.
The two types of celebration are extremely different, I realise. Firstly, Chern's thing took place at 8.30am, which is too early on a Sunday morning, if I may say so (human weakness overriding the promptings of divinity here) =P But yeah...it was more or less like a typical Christian celebration, a veritable rock band on stage, lots of charismatics, the sharing of bread and wine (categorically not the body and blood of Christ), and an evangelical thing at the end. Was most uncomfortable when the evangelical minister person was calling out for souls to be saved. The thing is, I'm already a convert, and yet when he was calling out, I had the distinct feeling that I was not meant to be there. As if everyone could tell I was not one of their denomination (which, now that I think back, my discomfiture would not have helped to cover up). There was a sense of a divide between the saved and the...well, everyone else. In a Catholic mass, anyone can sit in and no one would notice (in fact, most people would ignore each other, unfortunately), but in a Christian service, I always get a feeling that they're deliberately challenging me to prove my belief by stepping forward.
I figure that it's not on purpose...I mean, they don't intend to appear exclusive or divisive. Probably it's just that I'm not used to this kind of stuff. But it irritates me deeply when people try to evangelise me, especially on the street. And I remember last year's rather disturbing evangelical rally...seemed to me like everyone was being convinced to convert on the basis of the good music put up by the band. I have my doubts whether such mass conversions are really a good idea...people committing themselves on the spur of a moment, not knowing what they're getting into, and perhaps finding themselves unprepared to lead a truly Christian life (whatever that actually is).
On a point of principle, I don't think this is the way to become a Christian at all. Any type of Christian.
Ah well...but besides the evangelical bit the service was rather fun. Lots and lots of singing, though I was more or less silent cos there were all these new-fangled songs. And a real live band! My gosh, that church is swimming in money...the only other church I know has an electric guitar setup and a drum set is Holy Trinity, which, incidentally, is also very rich =P And I thought a Catholic mass was theatrical enough with the scripted rituals and elaborate costumes and setting and all that...well, this morning's service actually took place on a stage with a rather impressive tech setup...four light bars, monitor amps, a backstage, and I bet there's even a working curtain =P
Interestingly, though, the sermons of yesterday's and this morning's services actually coincided. Yesterday I was rather surprised to hear the father talking about the five loaves and two fish story à la Purvis's version - i.e. when the disciples distributed what little they had, everyone else also decided to share their food. So the miracle was the inspired generosity of the normal people, rather than a transformation carried out by Jesus. And then this morning five loaves and two fish appeared again, but as evidence of everything being possible in Jesus. Which is true enough. But it surprised me; I'd always thought that Christian churches would be more...rational, in a sense. Of course it's premature to judge...Catholic rituals probably seemed unbelievably archaic to Chern. But one thing that really stood out: I get the impression that Catholics place the emphasis on love in real life, while Protestants place the emphasis on conversion and the eternal life. I guess we concentrate on living life as a preparation for the ultimate objective, while they emphasise more on the absolute faith that there is an ultimate objective to go towards.
I realise I may be grievously wrong in this distinction. It seemed correct at that point in time...
To be sure, though, I think if there's one thing I want to take back from that service, it was the sense of community. When we were going into the church, there were plenty of people saying hello to Chern, and naturally asking who on earth I was. And the thing was yesterday, I was certain that no one would notice Chern in the church, and I was right. Hmm...perhaps it's because Sts Peter and Paul is really not my parish, and no one knows me there. And perhaps it's also because OLPS, which is my parish, is also the biggest one in Singapore, which does make it hard to develop a sense of community. But there was a genuine warmth in the Church of Singapore. You could tell that everyone knew everyone else...like a village. Like Raveloe, even.
Hmm...many things to think about now. I'm rather irritated with myself that I had to force myself to open up my viewpoints during the service this morning. Didn't realise that my religious views on what worship should be like were so...set in their ways. In effect I want to be able to appreciate God in whatever form of expression people put him in. But I think there are some things that are unchangeable. I will always prefer a good old Catholic mass, if only because it is reassuringly familiar. It never changes. And the notion that every week, you take part in a ceremony unchanged across territories, languages and time, that has linked and continues to link the corporeal with the eternal, is very empowering for me. It is something reliable that I can build on, these unchanging rituals.
Which is, of course, not to say that Catholicism is anti-reformist. In fact I think we're actually one of the more forward-thinking denominations of Christianity.
* * * * *
Anyway. After mass, went with Chern to visit her grandma, who lives in Bedok, which was a nice surprise. Actually it turns out that her family's rather familiar with the east side...the church itself was just opposite Parkway Parade. Heh, actually it did occur to me that it may be rather odd to just tag along for lunch with her family. But felt like trusting to the Lord, and anyway, nothing bad has ever happened before when I went out on a lark like this.
And nothing bad happened today either. Chern's grandma didn't in fact jump to conclusions about why I was tagging along, and Chern's aunt turns out to go to OLPS occasionally too. So now I have someone else to look out for. Heh, I must say she's quite a formidable character...I haven't met such a dedicated Catholic in a long time, to be sure. She's off to Kenya to do missionary work next. I take my hat off to her, and wish that I could go too...
So anyway, there we were, munching on frozen grapes and longans and reading homework stuff while Cheriel was rushing her tuition homework. Here I have to pause for a while, to lament the loss of my proficiency with Chinese. It wasn't very good to begin with, and now I realise that I can't even do a Sec 1 HCL worksheet anymore. Hai...I can still functionally communicate, and I guess it could be worse, but to think that we spent so much time learning all that vocab just so we could forget it over these two years...such a waste. Especially when in normal life I use so little of it that I don't even notice the fancy stuff dying away.
Her other sister is rather formidable too...MOE overseas scholar, studying in UK somewhere, I forget. Anyway, Cherlyn is like a glimpse into the future. She seemed rather harried actually, tired out even. I do hope that it's just a passing phase, this exhaustion...though judging from past teachers it doesn't seem to be the case (incidentally, who should I bump into on Sat evening at Suntec than my two fave teachers from good old CHS! Heh, I must say that they look substantially younger...perhaps cos Mr. Liew has quit his job at the old school...).
Went to Purvis Street for Hock Lum Beef Noodle, which was sublime. I gotta remember that place. And it's conveniently located just opposite the Central Library, which is all very conducive for my studying plans =P Hmm...interesting to watch the family, though. The antithesis of my own family, in that there are three girls rather than three boys. And for some reason age is inversely proportional to height (sorry Chern, but it's true...) =P I wonder if that's the main reason why they're much more vocal than us, the fact that there are three girls. Interesting, interesting.
Well, was a very enjoyable morning and lunch, all things considered. Much better than staying at home typing out econs notes, though eventually I still have to get around to finishing them. They are very warm-hearted folk, welcoming, hospitable. They must meet my family. Maybe we'll actually turn out to be related in some distant fashion =P The Neos and the Leongs. Has the makings of a Hong Kong soap opera...
The only thing was that I didn't manage to thank them properly (at this point I receive an SMS from Sots that says "thanks" - wholly unrelated issue, of course, but the coincidence is surprising...). Bah...it's the old preference of expressing gratitude in kind rather than in words. But the thing is that there's no telling when the opportunity would arise for a return of the courtesy. And in the meantime the moment has passed, leaving loose ends dangling. Well, I guess I can start here. Thanks muchly for the great time, guys! =)
Silence and Bread
Hmm...now that all that angst is out of the system. Had a fantastic four-hour outing with Ian, Chern and Mel today, ostensibly to go to Cedele to have lunch, but stopping over at all the shops in Citylink on the way over there. There's a pretty cool shop called teà that sells thematised fashion accessories. Basically you have a standard design of a range of accessories from handbags to phoneholders, and different prints on them. And all of it is arranged in thematic batches, which gives the whole stall a rather intriguing visual congruency. And they haev little placards detailing the designs of the accessories. Kind of like a fashion Ikea with those little tags with line drawings of what the product would look like when assembled.
But yeah...Cedele rules! Hehheh, it's a really happy sight, at the end of a hectic week, to see four steaming bowls of soup, a platter of flavoured olive oil, pieces of herb butter and a mound of different types of bread. The smells themselves are food for the soul, really. There's just something about the scent of fresh bread that makes the heart quicken.
I remember when I was young, I was fascinated with the words "piece" and "bread". Somehow these two words caught my imagination. In some obscure way, the sound of the word "piece" has always abstractly struck me as the perfect sound to describe a part of a larger whole. The i seems to divide the word itself into two parts. And of course there's the ironic aural connection with "peace", which has its connotation of unity. And "bread"...I really don't know. Somehow that word has always been related to rick, appetising, full smells of a bakery for me. Must be a link established in early childhood. My mum went to Switzerland when she was pregnant with me. Maybe she spent quite a lot of time in a boulangerie =P
Okay...enough with the psychoanalysis. There was a sense of completeness, of fulness and safety, when we were tucking into the meal. Simple fare, to be sure, but wholesome and fulfilling in the way that only simple things can be. Nearly silence, because all of us were too busy eating to spare time for small talk. Only the tearing of bread, dipping, extending to another's bowl in silent enquiry, and the eager nod in response. There was something in such silent and communal communication that made me really happy. Like through the bread and the soup, we had a real link, more accurate than language, more frank than written words.
Ah well. I think I'm romanticising it too much. But if I find myself on a roadside bistro next year, I think I will think back to our Friday jaunts to the Suntec Cedele, and the fulfilling smells, and the breaking of this bread, this secular communion.
* * * * *
Word of the Day: ethereality. Made that one up for Thong's hundred-word thing, and it struck me as a rather ironic lexical corruption, à la Virginia Woolf.
Achievements
For the Record:
Achieved Score (Pass Mark)
2.4km run - 12.25 (12.30)
Pull-ups - 5 (5)
Sit-ups - 40 (34)
Jump - 232 (222)
Reach - 40 (can't remember)
Run - 9.7 (can't remember)
But the point is, I made it! =D Was rather surprised with the run, I had no idea I could do that time. The 2.4 was really too close for comfort, because I mistook the passing time, and anyway was already rather exhausted after the five stations. The jump was a great relief, considering that my performance for that is always rather inconsistent. At any rate, however, that's a silver award, which is good enough for me =P
Now that I've redeemed all the remaining PE lessons, and the delicious 3 months off NS, it seems rather ludicrous to have so much time rely on this one test. That is a heck load of time that has been liberated. I remember thinking during the run that I have to pass it no matter what, after having come so far. So although I was running progressively slower, I discovered to my surprise that my last round was actually quite fast, which is wholly out of my usual style. Heh, must have been the thought of all that time at stake. High risk led to the needed adrenaline I guess. Failure would have been such a ridiculous letdown.
In other news, got back Lit S today, to my utmost surprise I'd gotten marks wholly out of my expectations. I'm still not sure what I did right. Was actually thinking that my writing was very self-indulgent, what with all those postmodernist notions about reality. Apparently it struck a chord. I'm thinking right now that it's because Purvis hasn't read the books yet, and so he has to take our word for what we've read. And that my indulgent philosophical tract was supported enough by the textual evidence (which, to be sure, was rather conveniently helpful - I personally agree wholly with McEwan and Winterson's take on reality). And, I suspect, because the reader was amenable to such persuasion. I mean, it's very hard to appeal to someone with postmodernist ideas if they don't already have a leaning towards them. I wouldn't be so arrogant as to assume that Purvis agrees with what I say unconditionally, but I do suspect that it struck a chord. Which adds a random element to the whole essay-writing operation.
It may have been by sheer chance that what I said coincided with what he was predisposed to read. I don't know how much of a role that played. I do hope it's not a major role, because if it is, then it makes things really risky. Of course subjectivity is unavoidable, but it is minimisable. At this point, I'd like to believe that Purvis's subjectivity is minimised, but I don't think it's a good idea to rely on it. At least in normal lit. In Lit S, I think the fact that we know our own books better than he does, does add to the leeway with which we can manipulate the textual evidence to make it say what we want it to say. This is well nigh impossible with like Return of the Native, because Purvis already has a good idea of what Hardy is trying to say, and thus in his estimation, some standpoints are less tenable than others on such a complete appreciation of the textual evidence supplied.
Now that I reread that paragraph, that sounds very presumptious on my part. How to make it sound unantagonistic, and yet retain the clarity? I don't have that skill with the language to fine-tune it so precisely. And I do think that this subjectivity problem is not insurmountable. But still, I think that it's there. How important it is in relation to other factors, I really am not sure. This ambiguity adds risk to every essay, therefore. And I guess it adds to the exhilaration of the whole endeavour, in its own perverse way...
You know, I do find it hard to discuss this kind of thing. When you do well, it is immediately bad form to run an analysis of your own work. But the thing is, doing well is not enough; you need to know how you did it, otherwise there's no guarantee that it can be reproduced. But on the other hand, the nature of the game is that you are not entitled to feel insecure when you do well. It's a rather tiresome maneouvre, having to walk the tightrope that is balanced between pride and self-denial, both of which everyone else expects you to display in a suitable balance. I gues it is well and good to be proud of what you've done, inadvertently or not, but aren't we all over-reacting? The marks themselves have to be put into perspective, and then it's easy to see how little they matter.
Of course, it had occured to me that perhaps the party that is over-reacting is myself. In expecting everyone else to expect me to act in a certain way, it's a sort of causative loop that creates a self-fulfilling prophecy. If that is so, then the rabbit hole goes deeper than I'd appreciated, and I'm actually being rather arrogant in imposing my own expectations on others. But down that path lies a vicious cycle that I don't think actually exists. But I have to be careful, to distinguish between teasing and jokes and actual inconvenient admiration.
I remember now why I'd put "adulation" under one of my dislikes on the old opendiary.
I also remember now that I have a serious problem dealing with praise. Over a certain threshold, I don't know what to do with it. Criticism also has a similar effect, though after so many experiences of it (criticisms are naturally more numerous than compliments) I think I've learned to counter it with a combination of self-depreciation, rationalisation and good old ignoring the adversary. Not very elegant, but it's the best I've managed. And that is the foremost method too to deal with praise. Except that when your target expects you to use such tactics, then what do you do?
Bleah...some people say that I don't say thanks enough. They're probably right. But I always thought that such words are cheap, easily thrown around and thus deprived of their connoted weight of meaning. Personally I'd rather repay the debt some other way, in some concrete fashion. And anyway, how many ways can you say "thank you" before you sound repetitive and idiotic? Except that they're right, it makes people happy to hear a "thank you". Why, then, do I still not offer such verbal gratitude? After all, Mussolini would agree that even symbolic gestures carry meaning...
Universities
If it had to be anybody, it would have been you.
Cryptic comment of the month.
* * * * *
Had a very hilarious talk on filling in the UCAS form personal statement today in school, given by this lady from Warwick University, Ms. Pack. Hehheh, it's amazing what some people put in their personal statements. The last one that she showed us, part of an application to study psychology, was some kind of stream-of-consciousness composition. I remember Oscar Wilde mentioned. And kilts, for some strange reason =P It would have made a credible amateur poem in another context, I think. Heh, we were saying that he would have gotten in on the merit of his personal statement...as a test subject for the course =P
Anyway, I wonder what I shall put on that part of the form. The trouble with things like this is that they tend to end up so saccharine and sugary, or otherwise the glare of introspection and self-belittling is embarrassing to read. It'd probably be the most important thing I'd ever written. Probably I'd pay more attention to it than when I normally write short stories. Hmm...I really can't think of anything academic that I'd done so far to show my interest in modern languages and culture. Except for the exchange programmes and French classes, I can't think of anything else really that would set me apart.
I guess in my mind's eye I was banking on the exhange programmes to show my interest. At the point in time when I took them up, it was the interest in another culture that was the most alluring. And to be sure, it's always the contact point with the local people over there that's the most interesting part of the trip. But then it's not exactly academically rigorous, and anyway, if I try to make it sound too big, I imagine that it'd sound rather wishy-washy. How to demonstrate an interest in culture without it seeming too contrived, and also without it seeming like just a hobby of mine?
Hmm...and anyway, gotta think again about what I want to do. Well, I still want very much to do MLC, but then Saturday's MOE scholarship talk pointed something out, something very obvious that I was smacking myself for not realising sooner. The scholarship boards will not sponsor you to do anything you like. It's their money, so you'd better study something that's useful to them. The problem with MLC is that MOE has no need for culture specialists, so they're likely not to offer me a scholarship to do some strange combined degree like MLC.
The other options that seemed most attractive to me after that scholarship talk were history and literature. Talked to a lit student from UCL under the MOE OMS programme, and she made it sound really fun. And for one afternoon, I seriously considered doing lit in UCL. But then on the train back was discussing with Yiting and Baoen, and we came to the conclusion that if lit in uni were like lit in JC, then perhaps it'd be better to forego it. To be sure, it's a strange state of affairs...lit in JC has widened my appreciation for lit, while at the same time eroding seriously my passion for doing it. I mean, I still love the subject, I still love reading the books, but to do it as a formal academic course is a whole new can of worms entirely. And perused the UCL prospectus again for lit, and the programme doesn't seem to be overly enticing. They're not putting much emphasis on modern lit, which is my personal favourite...
As for history, it actually is quite interesting, the programme offered at UCL. I can see myself studying history, and actually liking it, but not in the way that I like lit. I know I can do history, but it's just that history doesn't offer much in the way of Eureka moments, unlike lit, where flashes of insight are almost always the oder of the day, if you're to move forward in your reading of a text. Nevertheless, they have an interesting programme...History with a Year Abroad, in which you can go to US in your third year to do studies there. Interesting...a history exchange programme. Heh, I guess it's not too far away from a cultural immersion.
Of course, those options are if I decide to take the MOE scholarship. To be sure, the MLC boat is not wholly sunk yet. Haven't checked up on the other scholarships, and from what Chern says, people like Firefly give scholarships for the strangest subjects. And the PSC scholarships are far more flexible...the only trouble being that there are only 50 of them every year. Must do some research into MFA's programmes...if they offer any scholarships, then it's more likely that they'd be amenable to MLC.
Hmm...Ms. Pack raised an interesting question in the talk, on whether it'd be nicer to live in a city rather than the countryside. Me, I'd rather have a city, really. More life, more options, more conveniences. The only problem with London is that it may be a bit too big a city. I'd like to have a Lyon-type city, not too small, and not overwhelmingly big either. For that, Oxbridge, Birmingham and even Warwick sound like just the ticket. And I thought that I wouldn't go to Oxbridge...but now that I'm going to have to consider alternatives to MLC, maybe it'd be worthwhile to look again.
Bleah...was complaining that it was a nice feeling of certainty when it lasted. There is a certain satisfaction in being able to answer with precision the question of what I'd like to do next year. Apply to UCL for MLC, eventually major in French, and take the PSC-MOE scholarship and come back and be a teacher, with perhaps a stint in MFA too. Well, it seems like I overlooked a fatal flaw in that particular plan. But yeah...while the illusion lasted, it was one less weight to worry about. Ah well...shall have to rethink some things. And next week will be full of all this uni stuff, which I'm hoping will help.
* * * * *
What to do? I'm being pulled in too many directions at once, and I find that my time is at a premium now. The easiest thing to do, of course, is to just stick with the one that's closest. But when you have interests in people, it's muchly different from having interests in events. I find it much harder to prioritise people, because I can't forget that they're likely to care about how I treat them. But there's only so little time, and there's the nagging feeling that no matter how much I allocate to any one person, it wouldn't be enough. Arh...many people to support these days, especially as the heat is on for the prelims. And I feel that I can't disengage now. No matter what happens, I have to stand by some people.
It was a favourite question of ours back in last semester, whether it's better to be wanted or to be needed. Well, I guess the point really is moot in the practical world. Either way, there are obligations to keep, expectations to live up to. Unavoidable, I guess. But even if it's hard, some part of me still wants to do it. And for the sake of that part, and even for the sake of others, if I may be so bold, I will do everything in my power to stand by everyone's side.
Spaceship
When that thing blasted off and started rising from its launchpad, I had the strangest feeling of incredulity. To think something that big and cumbersome, with its bulbous attachments clumsily stiff wings, could even move, let alone soar, suddenly struck me as rather absurd. The design of the ship was only functional - a simple, toylike shape with fuel and power lego-ed onto the underside. An unlikely amalgamation of brute force and ingenuity - and yet it was really rising on its blast wave. Maybe what made it fly was some supernatural power. After all, God appeared to rebellious Israel as a column of cloud and fire.
The ship soon diminished to just a fuzzy dirty-white dot against a serene blue background. You couldn't even tell that the indefinite shape was a ship. And yet, the tension and exhilaration deepened, as everyone's attention was focused on an increasingly diminished area. There was a childish fascination with this star glowing in daylight and soaring against the clear sky. And then you remember that the star is actually manmade.
The launch coverage ended with the view from the camera stuck onto the external fuel tank. Now and then the image broke up into static, and those were heartstopping moments, because whe controlling something as unlikely and unwieldly as the ship, no one wanted to lose sight of it, even for a second. If anything were to go wrong, being able to see it happen offers a sense of security in itself, even if the problem eventually proves insoluble. Visual vindication, to some extent. And then finally the tank was dumped - but what you saw on screen was the glazed and blackened underbelly of the ship lifting serenely off the orange hull of the tank, as if it were a second launch. And then it slowly glided forward, the black underbelly sliding past, and as it flew further and further away, the looming black bulk began to take on the recognisable silhouette of our only true spaceship. It was a serene sight. A hopeful sight.
* * * * *
A short post on the launch of the space shuttle Discovery. The first time I'd seen one happening live, and it's a different kind of thrill. Heh, indulge in a bit of childish fascination and excitement now and again, it's refreshing!
Today and Yesterdays
Putting together little somethings for my correspondents. Conveniently enough Thong's brother has a Bordelais correspondent, so I shall send along a package with him on its way to Florent. Free air mail, as it were. As for the Taiwanese, shall have to fire off the packages in the next few days, if they are to reach in time for National Day. Hmm...over the last few days been buffeted with the old yearning for going abroad again. Or rather, nostalgia for the exchange programmes. I do hope that all this will not end here. I want to go on another exchange again. And to a large extent I'm hoping that university would be like a three-year long immersion. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that that was a large draw and motivation for me.
Purvis passingly mentioned Lit S today. I must say I was rather surprised that my postmodernist rant went down so well with him. Heh, if anything, I'd have expected him to be the last person to want to entertain my kind of views about reality. And like I'd said, I thought I didn't do well for Lit S, because I did it with the same mindset that I used in normal lit. Perhaps there is the problem, that my style is unsuitable for normal lit. I'd been hoping that that was not the case, because inappropriate style is harder to correct than misread content. Ah well...will withhold further judgment until I get the papers back, and I can figure out exactly what happened.
Overall Purvis was nicer today, I think. Don't really know why. Maybe it's the fact that he's finished with the marking, and doesn't feel that stressed anymore. Heh, but anyway, it's nice to see him this way. It's easier to adapt to him, to tolerate him, even. Gave me time to think a bit about the nature of his character's influence on us. Particularly why every time he praises anyone there is this whooshing sensation in my gut. I always try to suppress it because I think it's just a distraction, and anyway sustained praise tends to turn saccharine very easily. I'd like to think that it's just my discomfort with verbal compliments in general (they're nice, but easy to give, like cotton candy or sth liddat), but I can't ignore the element of jealousy. It's a normal reaction, I realise, but I still don't like the sensation. Of course, jealousy isn't inherently bad, I guess. Depends on what you do with it.
Anyway...like I promised, shall touch on Grace and JC studying at my place on Sun. Heh, I really don't know what to do when in such situations. Normally I'd try to ignore the fact that a couple was attached, and treat them like normal people. Heaven knows they get enough deferential behaviour in normal life, and it must be rather uncomfortable to put up with it all the time. But on Sunday I had a work schedule to keep, so I just let them get on with whatever they wanted to do.
I realise I may sound disapproving, but really I don't bear them any ill-will. They weren't a distraction; heck, Marcus was noisier than them downstairs. And anyway, I am in no position to lecture anyone. It's just an interesting situation, you see. I wonder what it's like to be in a position like that. The pervasive notion was that they were in a world of their own, a separate plane of existence that they carried around with them, an alternative reality that they can deploy around them anywhere. Somehow they were unapproachable and safe within a sort of aura (okay, they weren't in splendid isolation, it's just that at that point in time I didn't feel inclined to upset that particular equilibrium). Maybe it's a kind of security that you derive from holding a piece of secret knowledge. Or perhaps they were retreating into the safe haven of a familiar presence, a familiar scenario, the two of them together.
I don't know what to make of it, as an outsider. Things like this are so inscrutible from the outside. And anyway, I was doing work.
On to other things...the new National Library! It's a splendid building, an architectural marvel, I think. Well...actually, judging from the floor plan, it's just a rectangular block attached to a neighbouring column containing the lifts and escalators, embellished heavily with sunscreens and dramatic suspended walkways. Some architects would call that dishonest architecture, because you hide what is essentially a functional and simple shape behind an elaborate facade. Me, I'm not that much of an architectural puritan, and anyway, such two-facedness does serve to...personify the building a bit.
But imagine this...seven floors of reference material, with the top floor of the reference library containing a dramatically high ceiling, shelves three storeys high, subdued lights and a breathtaking view of the surrounding city, all the way to Newton on one side and Outram on the other. The whole building is bold and grand, designed to impress. Every level has a tall ceiling so each floor in the library is as high as one and a half HDB storeys, around there. But the stunning architecture aside, the wealth of reference material there is downright delicious! History galore, intriguing economics stuff, and shelves upon shelves of archival Singapore Government material. Was wandering through the geog section with Yiting the other day, and all those travelogues were irresistible. Heh, with so much material and such a cool reading environment, I'll look forward to every excuse to go to the new library. I daresay I'll even look forward to every subsequent essay =)
Hmm...wanted to talk about the MOE scholarships talk too, but running out of time. I want to watch the shuttle launch on BBC =P
Anyway, a last note. Ran into Jes and Pui Man, which were nice surprises. Always refreshing...they remind me of the life that exists outside of Humans. It's good to have such friends outside of your normal life, so you can put things in perspective. And also, in the class, was rather pleased with becoming closer friends with Thong. Heh, that guy is one intriguing character, I have to say. Don't know where the original impetus for this particular friendship came from. I guess we complement each other well, the wide-eyed philantropic idealist and the fatalistic cynic, to stretch the comparison to breaking point. It's great to have someone easily accessible to chat with in between lessons. And after lessons, too. His character is just too compelling. Heh, maybe a part of me thinks that I could have been him, in some ways. Like in Conrad, what's so compelling about a new race is not their strangeness, but the lingering impression of familiarity.
Aaaanyway, yes...friends, old and new. Heh, you could say that these people are my own refuges of familiarity - and in some ways they seem to me all the more compelling, because they exist in spite of the lack of a declared commitment. Some things are just known, I guess, and words are only embellishments. Shan't belabour the point anymore, but it was a good day today for these nice little touches.
Trips
Just saw off my mum at the airport. She's going to hop around some educational seminars in Europe, that lucky girl. In just over an hour's time she'll start that 13h flight to London, then transit to Zurich, and then back to London to transit to Glasgow, and back to London before arriving back on the 10th. ARH I'd love to be on a trip like this, sponsored on the Government's tab. Yes, I know it's all taxpayers' money and all that, but the questionable utility aside, an European tour like that! At a time like this! So you see, when you're the one actually receiving the perks, it's rather harder to say that civil servants don't deserve so much pay...
Well, it'll definitely be good weather over there, I think. Sadly, with all that hullabaloo about a second screwed up wave of bombings, London has been on the BBC alot lately, and the weather over there looks really fine. It certainly undermines the sense of security, I guess. London only escaped by a lucky break. Once again the fact is underlined that there is quite little that you can do to prevent something like this. The best way of self-defence may well be the development of apathy, so the survivors can carry on as per normal.
And to shoot the wrong person...from the looks of things he had it coming to him, running away from the police at a time like this. But still...terrorists kill innocent people too, except perhaps with less discrimination, to be sure.
Anyway, London will have a new interest for me for the time being.
Just now at the airport again seized by the all-too-familiar feeling of sentimentality washing over me. The control tower at night, a staff of incandescent power rising upwards and crowned with haloes of red and blue. I realise now that it's a childish fascination at heart, my fascination with travelling. To call a business or educational trip an "adventure" is not entirely inaccurate, but it does romanticise the whole affair a lot. And then thinking that there are only very few people that I would trust to travel with me on those expeditions...
Mum hasn't been gone on a business trip since I was in Sec 4, if I don't remember wrongly. And I haven't gone abroad with my family since Sec 4 too. By some strange turn of events I've gone more places on school trips than on family trips. Is that supposed to be the way things are supposed to be? Ah well. I do hope that she enjoy herself, at any rate. Waiting eagerly to get the digicam back, with its precious cargo...
* * * * *
Went to watch Dischordant, this RJC acapella group, at the Arts House yesterday with the Chorale people. Had quite a lot of trouble getting there cos of the NDP rehearsals, and all the roads were blocked up. I intended to take a luxurious stroll along City Hall and the Supreme Court, but when I exited the MRT station I found myself face to face with an armoured column. It was only when the choppers thumped overhead with the Singapore flag that I remembered. Spent a good thirty minutes traipsing along the cordons trying to find a way to cross the river, and in the end had to take the train to Raffles Place.
I couldn't resist standing and watching for a bit, even though I was risking lateness. And as I watched the choppers thudding overhead, and then the tanks revving their engines, and then the jets roaring past with the shockwave reverberating off the pavement, and then the unseen artillery thumping in the distance, it occured to me that fighting a battle in the city would be a very fearsome prospect. The sounds of battle would echo throughout the streets. Our airspace would only be big enough for one air battle at a time. And everywhere, the sound of artillery would be unavoidable. An urban battle in Singapore would be a harrowing, inescapable aural experience.
Anyway...besides such gloomy reflections, it occured to me that this year would be the first year since Sec 3 that I'd be celebrating National Day without someone to host. Florent in 2002, Hong Kong relatives in 2003, and Young and Co and the Frexprog II people last year (of which OD happily swallowed up all traces that I logged there), and this year...no one. It feels like there's something missing. I guess I could make contact with the exchange students that are here. Orly, for example, is terribly lucky. She was in Lyon with me, and this year she's going to Bordeaux, if I'm not wrong. Bumped into the French students on Racial Harmony Day, all racially harmonious in their Chinese getup. But I guess it'd be too obsessive to chase a connection like that. But all the same...at this time of year, I do feel at a loss, adrift, almost, waiting for someone to introduce Singapore to. I really do miss the exchange experience.
Right...anyway, finally arrived at Arts House and with a bit of time to spare, too. I must say that the Arts House is the coolest arts venue that I've ever seen in Singapore. The old Parliament chamber has been transformed into a theatre of sorts, so where the MPs and the press once sat, now the audience sits. And the speaker's stand and the president's seat and all that paraphenalia has been replaced with a stage. And a really nice touch was that they left the placenames on the seats, so I was sitting in a seat allocated to TCS News, while Sara Ho was downstairs in the parliamentarians' section sitting next to Lee Kuan Yew's old seat =P Whoever had the idea of such a transformation was quite a genius.
The performance itself ruled. Fantastic stuff. Even I, not a die-hard acapella fan, cannot but take my hat off to them. Their renditions of Change the World by Eric Clapton, This Much is True by Spandau Ballet and With or Without You by U2 were extremely memorable. Chern was saying that one of their Sun Yan Zi songs was CD quality, which I had to agree with. And they even featured Good Riddance by Green Day with acoustic guitar accompaniment! That guy is really multitalented, what with being Chorale's old student conductor, the arranger for the acapella group and also not a bad guitarist to boot. Oh, and their Perfect Day was just positively sublime. Had half a mind to stand up and cheer along too =P
Hehheh, they were really thick-skinned, though, "hint-hint"ing throughout the second half. I personally think that they didn't need to hint at all. And I think they knew that too, so I take their shameless hinting as a self-depreciatory joke =P But seriously, they were very good stuff yesterday. And to think that they actually loved their group so much that they would go through all that trouble of booking the Arts House, rehearsing and setting up this finale performance (they will have to break up to go to uni and NS). I wonder if Fruits and Veggies will end up like that. Hehheh, I wonder if anyone would be able to survive two hours of our kind of songs. But we rely on shock effect to be entertaining. Ah well...Fruits and Veggies has already lasted longer than I expected. Who knows, eh?
After that, was strolling down along the road in front of the Supreme Court on the way back to City Hall. After the NDP rehearsal, the roads were totally empty, the stands silent and devoid of people, the floodlights turned down and shadowy, and confetti littering the streets. The quiet and darkened arena was still festooned with the national colours, the banners and decorations that show how prosperous this little island has become. And strangely enough, in the quiet Padang last night, I suddenly felt that old pride in Singapore again. In the middle of the silence, I felt that I belonged right there, more than usual anyway. It always happens near National Day, this resurgence of nationalism. Sure, it's all propaganda and cliche, but somehow that doesn't stop me from being irrationally proud of being a Singaporean. Having people to host helps too...when there are foreigners here, you feel additionally proud when they are wowed by the showcase. Their sincere admiration always sparks off my own enthusiasm. But without them, I was rather surprised last night to feel that familiar warm glow spreading again, under the red and white banners. I guess I still am rather naive in this way. Either that, or the propagandists who decorated the Padang really knew what they were doing. The way that it's done up now, how can you walk past it without feeling patriotic?
* * * * *
Want to write more...about Friday's trip to Bras Basah, then Saturday's scholarship talk at MOE HQ, and the sublime and wonderful new National Library, and Grace and Jiachuan coming over today to study. But it's getting rather late already. Ah well...keep all that to tomorrow then. Till then...
Past Few Days
Finished HP6. Mmm...as the book approached the end, wanted to slow down, because there was the awareness that when I read the last page, there would be a heck of a long wait more till the next instalment. But as it turned out, I didn't manage to keep myself innocent about the ending. Six hours before I read the twist myself, I accidentally overheard it in school =S Really, walking around in the corridors can be quite hazardous. I have to say that the shock of the twist was undoubtedly compromised, though I did try for a while to fool myself that I didn't hear anything, and then to fool myself that the disappointment I was feeling was actually the sadness of the story itself (and the story is rather sad), and then in the end I gave up trying to scrabble for my innocence back. The mind is a strange thing indeed.
Hmm...but for the consideration of others, I shall not comment too much on the book yet. I imagine it must be a great shock to discover the twist yourself. Which was why I was trying to read the book so fast...but apparently not fast enough. Oh well. The book wasn't as good as HP5, I think. Some interesting insights into the magical world, but I thought that this time round Rowling was more concerned with the character development rather than building up our impression of the wizarding society. Clearly the book was meant for the fans. Which is not a bad thing. But I think she is running out of steam.
It's interesting, this HP phenomenon. It's a rare book (or series) that can engender a whole following, a sub-culture even. The HP books are the core of a whole community of fans who add their own insights to the pool of fan fiction. In a way this does help to make the wizarding world more authentic, as it begins to develop along recognisably sociological lines due to the input of so many different people. HP thus becomes more than just a fictional experience. And it happens to be a good read too, kept me on my toes for five days and nights =P Haevn't had that much fun reading in a long time. Well, not since I finished the Lit S books at any rate. And Rowling is commendable, in that she has managed to write a book that kids actually want to read in this day and age =P
Speaking of lit...got back lit results today, and it's not too bad. 67 gives a solid B, but of course, it hardly feels as good as getting an A for that subject. Congratulations to Bao on her spectacular performance, and of course, to good old Kels who once again delivers the goods, and Jon for writing that is clearly out of my league =P Me, I did well on Frost, surprisingly. As expected, it was Hardy that pulled me down. But it is strange...the paper that Purvis doesn't mark always pulls me up. It may very well be that the novels are harder texts to handle. To be sure, I'm rather discouraged by how little difference all that quote memorisation made...
From what I can tell it's not a stylistic problem but a content one, which is a bit of a relief. So it's just that I'm reading the wrong things into the passage, rather than expressing them wrongly, which would return me back to square one with a methodical problem. I guess the way to remedy that is to look at the book more closely. But then again, I can't help but have the feeling that I have to read it Purvis's way to get the marks. Even if I don't agree with him. It may be that neither of us has the "right" answer. But to be frank, he's the one giving the marks, he's the one with the power, so it makes sense for me to agree with him. Which creates a problem in that it's against my...I guess you could call them principles =P
And it would help if he didn't say it was "disappointing". Well, it's not that I'm overly devastated by that remark. Afetr so long, one learns not to take him seriously at all when it comes to matters like this. I guess in a warped way I have to learn to take it, because he keeps doing it, which seems to signal that he thinks that I can take it. But nevertheless, it would be nice not to have him picking on my sense of humour. Am I really that un-funny? Heh, from where I'm standing, any funnier and I'd be a slapstick comedian.
Okay...exaggeration for effect, but you get the idea =P
Nevermind, it all relies on a sense of perspective in the end. Right now I have more important things to worry about than one word carelessly thrown out in class.
There was an Oxford guy down to talk to us about Oxford and PPE on Tue. Oxford seems like a really nice place, exciting and congenial. But unfortunately I don't see anything I'd like to take there. PPE doesn't sound half bad, but I don't like any of the components of PPE at all, just the approach they take to teaching and assessment. But there are enough people intending to end up there, to be sure, judging from the attendance for the talk.
There's always been that tension, between what I want to do and where people want me to go. Again, people like Purvis saying taht I'd fit in well in Oxford or Cambridge. The notion was always whether or not I should go there merely by the virtue of my being able to go there. But increasingly I'm seeing that as rather daft. My not going there would be a Pareto improvement. And anyway, it's not so much a lack of ambition as it is another type of ambition entirely. I'm just not interested in PPE, and not qualified for their language and culture courses. I have to say that the prestige factor is of course attractive, and yet...I don't think I'll force myself to go there. That just seems inexcusably stupid to me, increasingly.
So if things continue this way, I'll be by the sidelines wishing well to all those applying to Oxford and Cambridge =P Anyway, if I get into UCL, at least we'd be in the same country.
HP6
I have not felt so exhilarated since...well, since Taiwan, really. I now have Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince by my side, and it's a really cool feeling to have such a solid tome enclosed in your arms =) The title's a bit cheesy, at first impression, but it looks like the new HP book will provide weeks of fulfilling reading. And judging from how long it took to get this book out, I think I'll just savour every single word of it. To make it last, you know...
It's really quite a childish feeling, to get excited over this chunky storybook. I guess partly it's becuse HP really does appeal to my child-self, or whatever that alter-ego is called in psychiatric parlance. It appeal is remarkably fundamental. But the excitement was also due to watching BBC, which was showing the midnight opening of the London bookshops to cater to all the HP fans lining up to get the new book. Heh, if you think I'm off my rocker, you should see some of the lengths the Brit children go to =P And I guess it's also because this is the first brand new storybook I've bought since Oranges. The smell of the paper, woody and thick, is the best smell on the planet, I swear! In this instance, to make such solid and fragrant paper, I think sacrificing some trees was justified =P
Well then...shan't linger here too long. Been careful to clear all my work so I can peacefully dive into the book tonight and all day tomorrow. Been saving the book till I can get into bed, turn on the little reading lamp, recline and properly beginning. Heh, it occurs to me that I don't even read the Bible with such enthusiasm...and neither did I do so with the Lit S texts. Well, not with the same stomach-churning, delirious anticipation-type of enthusiasm at any rate. Was telling Kels that if Rowling's style has improved, maybe it'd be fun to do it for Lit S. I think I'll bring a HP book into the exam just for the heck of it =)
Okays, so I'll be off to read the new HP book now! I promise I shall not deliver any spoilers on this blog. Oh, and if anyone asks what the heck I put up on waystation today, it was something inspired by an anime show I'm watching now, Last Exile, whose love scenes are cloyingly sweet. My instinctual reaction was disgust, but after that, it turns out that the love portrayed in the anime isn't altogether sentimental crap =P And was trying to come up with something on the theme of love which fitted within 100 words. The results - a very fragmented prose piece with no plot, more like a persuasive essay with extended examples. Enjoy! Or even better, go get your own copy of HP6 and enjoy that! =D
Bleeding
The new post counter thing on the Blogger Dashboard shows that the last post was the eighty-eighth one. How auspicious =)
And to be sure today has been fun. Main highlight: donated blood for the first time. It is actually far less painful than having a tooth extracted, indeed, less painful than that pricking thing that they do to get blood to test for haemoglobin. The doctor was a nice chap, rather kindly explaining what I needed to know about the process, and the anaesthetic was really effective. That was the biggest needle I'd ever seen, and it went in like a fork into a cheesecake. Yep, dehumanising the process (or psychic distancing) helps =P
The male nurse was quite nice too. Was making jokes with him when he gave me the "crucial things you need to know about blood donation" pamphlet, Chinese version =P And then...
HE: Inform us immediately if you're dizzy or lightheaded.
ME: If I'm unresponsive, feel free to help me anyway.
It must be the prospect of sustained bleeding, impairing my sense of judgment =P And then the doctor came back to check on this other girl in the next seat.
HE: You need to keep squeezing the ball. Your blood has stopped flowing.
SHE: *flabbergasted* How will squeezing the ball help?
HE: It shifts the blood around (or something like that, it was in medical parlance), we just need to get the blood out of the arm.
SHE: Then there's internal bleeding?!
HE: No, no, no internal bleeding. The blood flow just stopped.
I was tempted to give a running commentary about the state of the blood flow, but the doctor had told me to keep my head on the bed. So there I was, grinning like an idiot at everything that moved, happily squeezing that blue ball and bleeding away serenely, and trying my best not to sneeze because I thought that the sudden movement would dislodge the needle and send blood squirting like the incandescent plumes of the Musical Fountain.
Like many other things, the biggest challenge is psychological. Seeing those needles lying all over the place with the knowledge that soon they'll be sticking into you does create much fear in me. I guess that's my illogical phobia, the fear of needles. Or the fear of stabbing, as the case may be. But surprisingly enough, the propaganda posters they set up in school were true; the most painful part was the prick for the haemoglobin test. And there's the feeling that you're doing something noble, somehow touching someone else's life, many other people's lives. Maybe there's a touch of ego too, the notion that fluid from your own body will be flowing in the body of another. Bodily imperialism, and an anonymous intimacy. Us sharing our blood with strangers. Our blood flowing in others' veins. Blood is thicker than water, and so on.
I can't say yet that I'm over my fear of needles...but that was much better than what I actually thought, frankly. Heh, and having the repeat donors Ben Woon and Yongge for company did help lots, I think =P They do have the niftiest ways of breaking tension. At any rate, I'd like to thank them for bearing with my nervous prattle. They are right, peer pressure does help you to overcome the psychological barriers. When you're looking at your friends as you bleed, the urge to scream suddenly becomes controllable =P
But I have to say that the lightheadedness hasn't passed yet. There is, as I told Jes on the way to the MRT, the lingering sense that I've lost something...and anyway, I actually am lighter, now that I'm missing a bag of blood. But I do think that my thinking was impaired...loss of blood has the same kind of effect as getting drunk, I guess, because you're more impulsive, and less inhibited. I don't know how much I was thinking when I came out of that room. Luckily there wasn't anything like Lit S or Hist S to do, and the school day had ended. Heh, and I trust that my friends will pardon the slip in view of the greater cause of saving lives =P
* * * * *
Tomorrow will almost certainly finish before twelve, cos both S paper classes have been cancelled. And there may be an outing that night to watch Ballet Under the Stars, but due to reasons of bad coordination we haven't been able to confirm whether our tickets have been bought. Ah well, at any rate I think I'll come home after school. Just to have a glimpse again of what the house looks like when it's two o'clock =P
What Shall We Do With the NKF?
From The Human Stain, Philip Roth
"It was strange to think...that people so well educated and professionally civilshould have fallen so willingly for the venerable human dream of a situation in which one man can embody evil. Yet there is this need, and it is undying and it is profound."
"There is truth and then there is truth. For all that the world is full of people who go around believing they've got you or your neighbour figured out, there really is no bottom to what is not known. The truth about us is endless. As are the lies. Caught in between, I thought. Denounced by the high-minded, reviled by the righteous - then exterminated by the criminally crazed. Excommunicated by the saved, the elect, the ever-present evangelists of the mores of the moment, then polished off by a demon of ruthlessness."
"Everyone knows...Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid Delphine Roux. One's truth is known to no one, and frequently...to oneself least of all."
I'm approaching the end of The Human Stain, and it has been an excellent read. The secrets that people hide in their lives, those secrets that are kept for fear of moral censure, and those that are kept by choice, as a challenge to society and to oneself. The latter kind bears a certain harsh nobility about it. And when can you be really truthful about yourself to other people? Even when completely naked and frank, the two lovers in the book are unable to delve into their deepest secrets. Certainly there's an element of pride and self-protection there, but there's also a feeling that their secrets give them depth. It may very well be that those that have no secrets are shallow, that only the most superficial people can be totally honest. The sheer complexity of a human being that is neither saintly nor evil but an immoral mix of both necessarily means that there are some things that we cannot tell others, whether it is because of fear or inability of expression.
Roth's style appeals to me. His poingnancy derives not so much from condensed wordplay, as is the case in Hardy, Conrad and Winterson (though it may be heresy to mention the three in the same breath =P), but from a simplicity and earnestness bordering on the intimacy of the colloquial. It's not so much of an effort to read, because he takes you by the hand through the moral maze that he uncovers. He reveals the daunting complexity, but he does not dump you in the middle of it with no way out. He is a considerate writer, I think, not given to flair but to clarity, and doubtlessly it takes skill too to express complexity in a way that is easy to comprehend. Heaven knows I've tried, with little success...
But it has been a cool read. Reading a book for pure leisure, without the pressures of literary analysis needed by Lit S, or the time pressures of iminent exams. Something I hadn't done since Term 1 I think. It's more than reinvigorating. I think it's a healing process, almost, a reestablishment of equilibrium, a retreat to an old refuge: the book.
* * * * *
What shall we do with the NKF? Breach of trust, siphoning off of funds, and an idiot of a patron that only makes things worse when she tries to defend her favourite charity. Mrs. Goh Chok Tong's calling the sum of $600,000 "peanuts" just goes to show how out of touch with reality our social cream of the crop are. A corrective sense of perspective is desperately needed. But, to be fair, the alienation of the top from the bottom is not a problem that is unique to Singapore. But still, what kind of idiocy does it take to make such an obvious blunder?
I don't remember a time when the public has ever been this outraged. Irritated, concerned, maybe, but not clamorously outraged, to the point of scrawling hate graffiti on the NKF headquarters. The greatest harm that their CEO has done by his misstatements (technically, lies, but one must keep away from inflammatory terminology) is to destroy the public image of the NKF. There is a real sense of betrayal, that the donations made by a public in trust have been siphoned off for purposes that were not made clear and are not even justifiable in any practical sense. Read a petition calling for the immediate resignation of the CEO just now, and the acidity and sarcasm in some of the comments are really biting. Powerful words, indicating powerfully stirred up sentiments.
The worst thing, of course, is not that the CEO has been discredited, but that the patients that the NKF treats have to bear the real cost. When a charity breaches public trust, the instinctual reaction is to stop donating. And yet, it is undeniable that the NKF has provided top-notch kidney dialysis treatment. The obvious result would be that patients will stop getting treated. Which, again, raises the question of what we should do with the NKF. Thinking of all the people he exploited, and all the lives he has put at risk (literally), I think the CEO's life deserves to be destroyed. He should be brought down low.
But that of course does not solve the question of what to do with the NKF. Who will control it from now on? Will reforms really be initiated? Or will all be sacrificed just so Mrs. Goh can save face? More importantly, will the public take things into their own hands? Will they even be allowed to do so? That, I think, is worth watching out for.
My mum (who is going to London soon, lucky her) was saying that as public servants, one must be extra careful not to take money that one does not deserve. The problem with that, obviously, is how to determine what sum of money is actually deserved. I'm not convinced that top civil servants must actually be paid that much, and the reasons given are rather inadequate (imagine: paying politicians heaps to preclude corruption is like inviting Mussolini into power to prevent him from taking it). But then again my mum is paid that kind of salary, so I don't know what to think now. You see, moralising always becomes terribly difficult when the punishments you propose impinge on yourself, as many people in class will undoubtedly agree.
So what shall we do with the NKF? My first step would be to look at the people as people, not only as patients or donors. And to think, whether they really should be treated like that. And to think how far the status quo is from how they should be treated. I reckon that whatever comes out of this issue will be rather telling on the moral compass and humanity of this little island, regardless of the outcome.
Fragments
I guess I should at least acknowledge that London has been bombed. But I have nothing much to say about it. Was shocked when I first heard it from Chern, turning on the TV expecting to see smoking ruins. There was...nothing. It was the emptiness of the city that was disturbing, I guess.
But it could have been worse. On one level, it is always sad that a person has to die at all, and for such a pointless cause as this. And there's the frustration that no matter what we do, we'll never gain the initiative in this war, and the terrorists will always be able to choose when and where to strike. But it could have been worse. nearly 50 dead, but the scale is entirely different from the trauma experienced on September 11. And why don't people feel as much for the millions that die from hunger worldwide? Because their deaths are not as glamorous, or not as visible? What about the Iraqis, for which something like this happens every other day in Baghdad?
I do have to say, though, that the Londoners' resilience was admirable. There was definitely a grim resolve on the first night on BBC to weather this storm, and Londoners calling on the memories of the Blitz and the IRA bombings. They sure aren't new to this kind of thing. Beyond that, I don't have any more to say. Just that I hope that they don't react as badly as the Americans (though to be fair the Americans had to deal with a far greater shock). And that they (and we) acknowledge that the degree of trauma is based also on a certain novelty value.
* * * * *
Yesterday evening, went for Ray's birthday party. Hehheh, what a spectacle! A spread of Mediterranean seafood, with all sorts of fish, crustaceans, cheeses and four types of olives! It was the first time I ate olives with pits, and it was grand =) I love the smoky salty taste of olives, and the rather meaty texture. No other fruit actually comes close to the experience of eating olives. And the desserts! Peach tart, a white chocolate cake, cheesecakes, mousse, expresso cake, almond jelly, compotes...Good grief, I'm going back there for my birthday, I have to say =P
I wonder what it was like to be Ray's little sis, though. To be sure, sitting among a bunch of 20 classmates must be quite awkward, when you haven't had the shared experiences and can hardly tell what they are talking about. But I guess she would have her own birthday extravaganza too. I wonder what's wrong with me...when she was opening her presents, I kept thinking, what shall we do with her little sis?
But it was definitely a fun night, in the really posh Hotel Intercontinental, and everyone dressed up (of course, the standard was set by the girls =P), chatting about school. Rather funny, actually, the incongruity between our concerns and the high-class luxury of the restaurant around us. And got a chance to play the guitar too, the good old classical that no one could hear over the hullabaloo =P But I guess that would be the last time that we're going to do something like that for a long time. The pressure of time passing is now a constant weight. I don't know how long more we can last as a class...
* * * * *
New library building looks spectacular in the evening light. The beautiful curves, that strange pod on the roof, and the spectacular multistorey (or multistory, as the case may be =P) gardens lit by softly glowing lights. That is one beautiful building. I can feel myself being inspired by it...the curves and the planes all enticing, defying common sense and familiarity, a building in harmony with itself but not its surroundings. A stylish building, but also a warm and intriguing one. When it opens on the 22nd, I intend to be there.
* * * * *
Many people engaged in a discussion about the nature of love on Kels's LJ. I find discussions like these uniformly frustrating, because in the end we end up going round and round in circles, and we always end up with the same conclusion, that you have to experience it to know it. It's because our notions of love are all different, and we can't express ourselves to the satisfaction of other people. I guess with so many shades and degrees of meaning and experience encompassed in the macroconcept of love, it is an attractive notion to think that there is an overarching symmetry and unity to be discerned in the flux and disorderliness. I myself believe that there is an overarching love, because it's such a compellingly beautiful concept. But I can't kid myself - whether or not one believes there is a perfect overarching love very rarely affects how one acts and portrays or expresses love in a real world context. People seemingly idealistic in their philosophical outlook can be incredibly cold and ungenerous in real life. Again, not only the communication gulf, but also the gulf between the philosophical and the real.
Love is a point of belief, I think. True love is a matter of faith. It seems so painfully academic to be arguing about its true nature.
Dramatic Excellence
Heh listening to the Amélie de Montmartre soundtrack borrowed by Thong now, and feeling sublime. Just came back from another wonderful TSD Public Performance, and once again, was wowed by their professionalism and power. The performances that we watched were all strong work. Heh, I made a really stupid screw-up with the time though, so we made it there finally almost 1h late, but we were still in time to catch 5 performances. On the way me, Thong and Chern were discussing what to do for tomorrow's party (which shall remain secret for the time being for the sake of the game =P) and plans for after A's - a budget airline trip to an exotic location like Thailand or Bali. Mmm...definitely something to look forward to, if we can pull it off.
Anyway, today's performances were breathtaking. Started with a rendition of the hilarious play The Importance of Being Earnest. Hehheh, the veneer of civility was stretched to the limit as the two women transit from cordial guest and host to vicious rivals. Their uptightness did make for some brilliant comic moments, especially with the diaries and the...diabetes-inducing tea =P And then we were shuttled off into the black box to watch Shaun's rendition of a monologue from The Ice Man Cometh.
Good grief, that boy can sure act! His accent was amazing, so naturally African-American that you can just see the dark skin on him. All the colloquialisms were rendered believable by that accent, I think; if it hadn't been practiced to perfection, the Harlem talk would have just seemed trite and pretentious. As it was, I could feel the electric energy of black America in his acting. And the passage he chose was brilliant...talking about an enduring and forbidden love, and Shaun brought out the anguish and desperation of the love story really powerfully. Such an idyllic image of love, their utter dedication to each other - the power of the moment was clear to see, and I think the audience felt as strongly as Shaun's character did about the girl by the end of the piece. It's that kind of wistful yearning to believe that something like that could actually happen in real life, I think. And his superb acting made the whole passage eminently believable.
Then in was off to watch Xi Jie's Beatles piece. A splendid shrine to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, resplendent with orchids, dolls, psychedelic poster and Xi Jie wearing only flowers (or so it was meant to seem), and pulsing Beatles music to expertly manipulate the atmosphere. The plot was simple, a kid growing up in the time of the Beatles, looking to the band for ideological guidance, and then growing out of it as the band broke up. As they played the news report of Lennon being shot, Xi Jie puts on a sleek business suit over the flower costume. As Imagine played, Xi Jie receives a briefcase and PDA. And at the end, when the music has faded out poignantly, she takes off her last hippie symbol, the peace necklace she had worn all the while. When the music was playing, I had tingles running up and down my spine, positively...you could just close your eyes and imagine it as a radio play, the soundplay was so powerfully done. It was a simple idea, of a young idealism mellowed by the real world, but it was rendered touchingly profound by the intricately constructed shrine to the Beatles and the ingenius music.
And that was followed by Conan's group piece, the sci-fi Matrix-esque dystopia where a group of scientists were trying to reignite the human spirit in several "test subjects" by placing them in a simulated natural environment. A mirror brought out narsiccism, a radio playing music evoked wonder, and Lego blocks inspired constructiveness and destructiveness. And throughout it, instincts of curiosity, selfishness, tenderness and imitation drove the actions of the "test subjects". Nice moments included one of them trying to attach a green Lego block to a leaf, and Conan constructing a figure of a man while another crushed a previously constructed figure. They added new subplots, though, with robots infiltrating the experiment, and eventually the "test subjects" escaping and taking over the experiment, and the scientists placed in the simulation they had previously been running. Raised questions about what constitutes a human nature, whether human nature is innate or constructed. And of course, raised the issue of who's in control, who's playing God. I liked the added bit at the end, something that I wholly didn't see coming, even after watching their prelim version. In Chern's words, "An excellent notion excellently executed."
Speaking of God, we met Him (Her) in the last piece. For God's Sake, apparently a self-written comedy, it showed God and Lucifer putting the last touches on Adam and Eve, and God being befuddled over why he could not make them have sex and reproduce. Lucifer's solution: to elevate sex to the level of worshipping God, so humans would be equally eager to do both. To do this, a certain apple had to be strategically placed. Interesting notions raised by the piece, like the notion that God put the apple tree in the garden because he had intended for men to become Godlike under his tutelage, and then deciding against this because he had tried once with Lucifer to groom a protege and only created a devilish rival. But poignant points aside, it was hilariously pulled off!
Line of the night: "There must be other ways to worship You besides deciding not to eat a piece of fruit."
The altercation between God and Lucifer was hilariously crafted; whoever wrote the script was a genius indeed =) Like Lucifer intentionally pissing God off to demonstrate his predictability. And their voyeuristic Temptation-Island survey of the two humans via CCTV =P Needless to say the night ended on an explosive note with this piece.
After that, we (Kay Hwee had joined us) were busy being flabbergasted at the whole power of the night, and JC and Grace showed us around the facilities, and the others spent some more time in righteous outrage about the splendid rooms of TSD =D Hehheh, the shows themselves were top-notch, but to see the others enjoying them too was a whole new layer of enjoyment. An audience full of admiration and respect for the dramatists is about as good as it gets in show-business after all. I'm glad that we managed to catch the shows, even if we were 1h late. They certainly saw the power of the Singapore theatre at its best, and I hope they can see why I have so much enthusiasm for the programme.
Yes...seeing the shows tonight made me feel good again. Back to drama, the essence of drama, the full sensory experience that communicates so many shades of meaning at once, the power of the stage and the Godlike entities that manipulate that microcosm. Once again the professionalism of the TSD crew has been unequivocally demonstrated, and there was that distinct feeling that real drama was being put up tonight. I always love walking into that part of the school, because there is always a deep feeling that this is the way that it should be done, the nurturing and exploration of drama. It just feels right to be there.
And it feels right to have been part of it. I do feel rather privileged to be part of TSD at all, even if only tangentially. I don't want to entertain any illusions; I am not part of the culture and community of TSD. And yet, for the small part that I was allowed to play in Grace's DS, I already feel deeply privileged. Because it's not everyday you get to work with people as passionate, driven and dedicated as the dramatists in TSD, in any context. Heh, tonight, seeing all the familiar faces in the cast and crew, I felt really good...perhaps a sense of deep respect augmented with a feeling of pride, that these people were finally getting their due recognition, and they were doing what they were meant to be doing all along. And to think that I had been a part of the process, even if I had nothing to do with the product as it finally appeared tonight...
All this, of course, thanks to the chance encounter with Grace at CAP last year. A real thank-you to you! =) It has been a richly rewarding experience, all aspects of it. It's probably mainly because of her that I'm still enthusiastic about drama. As only through her could I actually do some drama, do something with a stage. And for that, I am deeply grateful.
Shall go back on Sunday for a second dose. And I'll remember to be on time this time =D
London 2012
Latest: London wins the bid for the 2012 Olympic Games
It must be really painful for Paris, I think...losing out by the narrowest of margins of 54 votes to 50. Good grief, it must be the worst case of national so-close-yet-so-far ever. And to think that Paris had tried twice before in 20 years...to lose three bids in 20 years is quite a feat indeed. And this time round they seemed to be so on task. But I guess the IOC weren't looking for able executors of the Games only, but also something that would make the games not only successful, but also historic.
Hehheh, suddenly UCL seems like a more attractive place =)
But I do feel really sorry for the Parisians. They really needed the Olympic Games I think, much more than the Londoners. Watching BBC in the aftermath, and one reporter in Paris described the French mentality as being beseiged by the Anglo-Saxon world outside. Indeed, France seems to be withering away while Britain is reinventing itself culturally and politically. The French really need something to look forward to, and to a large extent I think this chance to host the Games was a great unifying point for the French. The Games bring something beyond monetary benefit, even beyond prestige...there is something mythical, historic, spiritual about the concept of the Olympic Games, I guess, that can have very powerful on people.
Had a talk on Entrepreneurship in the Age of Globalisation today. Was expecting it to be the same old propaganda about the delights and rewards of entrepreneurship trotted out again, but it turned out to be rather entertaining. The first question was a blisterer, bluntly delivered. I personally was quite surprised someone actually took that kind of tone with the speakers, and naturally the teacher had to intervene. But in the end it was the teacher-in-charge that looked stupid, cos the entrepreneurs couldn't afford to look like they were hiding behind authority, so they accepted the question and replied as candidly as possible, with good humour. That was most impressive...woke me up from my cynicism. Well, basically throughout the session we all knew that the session was a load of crap, and we all knew that the decorum of an educational talk was just a façade, and that whatever the speaker said would be unlikely to change the views each of us already held on entrepreneurship. So there was an interesting feeling that under the façade was a layer of frankness, so the session wasn't as pretentious as I expected. Overall they didn't say anything I didn't already hear before, but though the session was rather useless, it was entertaining, so it wasn't a total loss, or at least not as bad a loss as I expected.
Got a few tests back today...overall not too bad, I guess, nothing out of the ordinary yet, but will save a post-mortem till the thing is fully returned. Tomorrow's Soph's birthday, prepared something for the old girl. Heh, I realise I do enjoy working with glass...there're lots of interesting things you can do with the transparency and a black permanent pen. I never knew I could decorate like that, until RJGE gave me the chance to try out way back last year, and now it's like the preferred mode of present-making =P Well, hope she has a good day tomorrow. Hope she can see the worth of her own self; competing with others is of course necessary, but you also need a sense of perspective that offers a comparison with only yourself - your past and your potential. Otherwise dissatisfaction can set in.
Almost Back to School
Bah messed up the timing for the NS checkup, it's actually next Mon. So was about to leave for CMPB, and checked the date, then realised today wasn't the 11th, and changed destination to go to Tampines Library instead to hunt for Hist S material to read for the morning. The library is really too cold...I'd forgotten how cold it was, having not entered a library other than SAFTI for close to a year I think. Then after drowning in rather interesting conceptions of causality and factuality, browsed for fun this book called We Interrupt This Programme, which is about the BBC's most momentous news stories. It must have been so exhilarating, in the old days, to hear something like that on the radio. "We interrupt this programme to bring you breaking news." When that happens you can be sure something extraordinary is transpiring. Actually, now that I think about it, I can't remember any occasion in which normal programming on the channels that I watch have been interrupted. Heh, I guess it's rather pointless to interrupt BBC News, since half the time is spent on their hourly bulletins, and anyway, what could be so momentous to little old Singapore to justify interrupting your Sunday Night Movie on Five?
Anyway, just got a notice from the class people and Soph's and Vaish's blogs that there's no Hist S tomorrow, which suddenly leaves me with a heck of a lot of free time =) But of course, the prelims are looming eight weeks away, which is something to think about. Time to go over the previous year's work...to start memorising the quotes that matter, namely the History ones and the non-novel Lit quotes. And time to start filling in those university applications too. Time to start writing that autobiographical introduction. Tomorrow, must switch channels to reenter the grind of school life. And what a hectic term it'll be...racing to finish the teaching, layering over a healthy dose of revision, and also dealing with this university application stuff. Bleah...but must work up at least some enthusiasm.
But I'm halfway through The Human Stain, and it's a really pleasant read. Roth's wordplay isn't in the class of Conrad, or even Winterson...he's more colloquial, his writing flows more easily, it's intensely situational. After analysing Gut Symmetries, it's a really nice change to have a book with a linear plot again =P ANd it's entrancing...waiting to find out what Coleman Silk's great secret is.
This bit, about Coleman interviewing an attractive young French graduate for the post of literature professor: "It isn't difficult to understand what she intends for him to understand, especially as Coleman knew something of Paris from being a young professor with family on a Fulbright one year, and knows something about these ambitious French kids trained in the elite lycées. Extremely well prepared, intellectually well connected, very smart immature young people endowed with the most snobbish French education and vigorously preparing to be envied all their lives, they hang out ever Saturday night in the cheap Vietnamese restaurant on rue St. Jacques talking about great things, never any mention of trivialities or small talk - ideas, politics, philosophy only...the intellectual must not be frivolous. Life only about thought."
When I was reading it, I was thinking of all the top JCs. Okay, I was just thinking of RJ. And to be fair, Delphine Roux seems to be at best only a caricature of the stereotypical RJ student, thank God. Yet the echoes are disquieting...I've caught myself expecting things like her, expecting to do well just by virtue of position, expecting to receive praise for this chance endowment of intellect. It's dangerous, this tendency to self-elevate. Must be watched carefully.
Anyway...going to jump back into school life tomorrow, ready or not. I hope that at least it'd be entertaining...
A Hedonistic Weekend
Our relatives who were sick with dengue are being discharged today. My cousin was discharged yesterday. Heh, it's really interesting how the mood changes in that hospital room. When faced with the prospect of yet another day of hospital stay, she was all listless and bored. And then the blood test results came back with a good platelet count, and then the nurses came in to tell her she could leave right now, and then the invalid and the family members around her were all suddenly reinvigorated, and far more cheerful. Heh, staying in a hospital really does make you feel sick by virtue of the nature of the place. A psychological thing, I guess, but an understandable response. One needs to prepare oneself for utter boredom in the hospital.
Anyway, we headed out of the wards and down to the taxi stand, for the three-minute ride home, and you could tell that my poor cousin was actually far healthier than she looked. Well, at least she can get a breath of fresh air and sunshine now, and have TV to herself, and access the internet, and eat food with taste =P But of course, she remains under the watchful eyes of the grandparents, which essentially means that she left one ward to enter into another =P Ah well, she will convalesce in whichever fashion that suits her best I guess.
These few days have been totally decadent. Not a scrap of work done, despite the Hist S common test coming up. There is precious little motivation to go on, and anyway, it doesn't look like any studying will return a dividend worth my while. So instead of looking at E H Carr, I've been reading Roth's The Human Stain and playing the guitar. Here's a nice bit that I read last night when the oppressive heat was keeping me awake...
"You can't let the big they impose its bigotry on you any more than you can let the little they become a w and impose its ethics on you. Not the tyranny of the we and its we-talk and everything that the we wants to pile on your head. Never for him the tyranny of the we that is dying to suck you in, the coercive, inclusive, historical, inescapable moral we with its insiduoud E pluribus unum. Neither the they of Woolworth's nor the we of Howard. Instead the raw I with all its agility. Self- discovery - that was the punch to the labonz. Singularity. The passionate struggle for singularity. The singular animal. The sliding relationship with everything. not static but sliding. Self-knowledge but concealed. What is as powerful as that?"
It does take a special kind of courage to strike out on your own indeed. Not to belong to any one group or clique, and more importantly, not to mind that it is so. It's something that springs from self-confidence, and an acceptance and appreciation for the pros and the cons of being the outsider. I've tried before to be this kind of person...but it turned me into something snobbish. In refusing to be part of some bigger body, I became arrogant. I guess you also have to be comfortable with that, and not mind how other people see you. But then again usually when you're interacting with people, it's the other person that has the power, and not you, so what he sees in you is more important than what you see in yourself.
Being an independent spirit...the selfishness and self-regard underlying the romantic notion of the lone ranger. Now I am in a position to retreat from everything that I am currently a part of, and to do so with minimal upset and fuss. But I know that I will not do this, because there are responsibilities that bind me to other people. And never to hurt someone else...a sudden streak of independence would break too many relationships and cause too much pain.
To be an independent spirit seems to require so much selfishness and callousness and dismissal of other people. And yet, when such an independent spirit comes into a room, you can feel its power, its confidence, its formidability. Answerable only to itself, it can do anything it likes to you without any restraint except when doing so will harm itself too. The raw strength of such a character cannot but inspire respect. But it does not inspire one to try to break through, the risks are too high that you will get hurt. Once you decide to become a lone ranger, it's hard to turn back.
* * * * *
Oh well, enough philosophising. Yesterday Pui Man came over to play with the electric. Heh, and into the evening, Greg came back from church activities, so he took the acoustic, and I went to get my classical. It was rather funny, to see every type of guitar represented in our little circle of guitarists trying to play songs by Joe Satriani and Metallica and the rest of them. Rock on a classical guitar is really funny =)
Anyway, playing the guitars, and we were learning Fade to Black by Metallica, the song that plenty of people in RJGE love and play. Hehheh, it's really not that difficult, after you slow down the tempo by a lot. And it's immensely satisfying when you can make the same notes that Metallica plays come out of your own instrument. You even start to feel like a real performer, with those riffs flowing smoothly through your fingers, and you're really playing an instrument, not just plucking strings to make a sound. And she was right...the electric really is rather fun to play, because it can make all sorts of sounds that the other two can't. Like bends and slides, and the whammy bar that lowers the note being sounded by up to a semitone. And all that fingerwork! Purely exhilarating.
So it was the three of us crowded around Greg's computer plucking away at the guitars, and I haven't had so much fun in a long time. To be sure I never had so much fun with a guitar before. With these rock pieces, everyone has to play a different part, and everyone has something cool to add to the piece, what with the solos planted in at strategic points. It's exhilarating because of all the fancy stuff we do, and because only one person at a time does it, so there's no security buffer of lan4yu2cong1shu4. I'd imagined sessions like this when I first joined Guitar. It's ironic, I guess, that it's only after my tenure in RJGE has ended that such things have started to happen.
Hehheh, during dinner my family was rather impressed with Pui Man's Cantonese, and that took the conversation off the beaten track of childhood and school stories into topics of culture and roots. And how I can't speak Cantonese even though it's my mother dialect. I guess I should eventually learn it; but, like the studying, the motivation really isn't there =P
Hospitals and Movies
By a strange turn of events, 3 out of 4 of my cousin's family are down with dengue fever. Only my poor aunt is still uninfected. The youngest is in KK, but my cousin and uncle are in Changi GH, and since we live just down the road from that hospital, we've become the base camp for the family to take turns keeping watch over the two invalids.
Not that they really need us to take care of them. When I went to visit them in the hospital today, it suddenly struck me how un-hospital-like CGH is. It's built like a polytechnic, everything well-planned-out and symetrically designed. And intensely blue, for some reason. I always thought SGH's yellow and brown tones were too jarring, found CGH's blue colour scheme much more soothing. And their wards are more spacious too...Uncle is in a Class C. No TV, no aircon, but not too bad, really. Six people to a partition. The only thing was to tolerate the idiosyncracies of the other patients...like this one that sang in the night, apparently. Ying Hua was supposed to be a Class C too, but they ran out of beds and upgraded her. Heh, her air-conditioned room with personal TVs is like the First Class cabin on airplanes. All in all not too bad, really.
The only thing, of course, is to relieve their boredom. They're not allowed to get out of bed, in case they bump themselves and start hemorrhaging. That, of course, is where books come in, but even a whole day of doing nothing but reading can be too much of a good thing. I think if I were ever hospitalised, books and my sketchbook would be the bare essentials if I were to keep sane. Heh, tomorrow shall bring along cards.
I think the more pertinent question, though, is how everyone else is holding up. The invalids are well taken care of by the hospital staff, but the relatives are rather edgy, I think. And understandably so; to have a whole family suddenly hospitalised is no joke. But still, all that running around and stressing themselves out over the invalids, forcing them to drink this and eat that, can't be very good for health. Especially for poor Aunt, who's had to shuttle between home, CGH and KKH. Heh, it may be that the biggest problem now is not a low platelet count, but how to prevent the family from caring itself to death.
An interesting point to note...the older generation doesn't trust hospital staff very much, I realise. If she had it her way, I think Grandma would hook them up to a continuous IV drip of water or something, the way she was forcing the water into the invalids =P And she'll brew some porridge for them tomorrow. It's interesting how these age-old remedies and the hospital's medicine are superimposed on each other. And who's to say, really, that the hospital people know better what they're doing? It's my Grandma who brought us all up, she has the personal knowledge. Maybe the hospital people are relying on people like Grandma to fill in the gaps where they necessarily cannot have enough information on. Heh, in her strange way, maybe Grandma is supplementing the hospital regime rather than interfering with it. I'm beginning to think that's the case, fusion medicina and all that.
Oh yes, and I discovered a Christian community hospital behind CGH. I wonder why sleepy little Simei needs so many hospitals...
* * * * *
Spent the better part of yesterday out, first with the Guitar people, and then with the 4N people. Ahh...that was a really good day. It was almost like a detoxifying meal. Except it's for the spirit. I guess I've repeated this enough times, so it'll suffice to say that once again, it was good to be reminded what people outside of RJ are like.
Watched A Lot Like Love, and wholly disagree with the ending. The movie wasn't really that bad. But the ending really screwed it up, I think. Wholly predictable. If the two of them had broken up at the end, it would have been a memorable movie. As it is, it was just predictable. Though the movie does give interesting ideas for what to do with your best friends...like drop out of contact for years on end and turn up unexpectedly on their doorsteps armed with amp, guitar and sappy song =P Oh well, I guess my personal stand on the issue tainted my view of it. I categorically believe that, as the tagline goes, a great romance can ruin a perfectly good friendship. Though, as always, I am open to being surprised...
Warning: spoilers ahead!
JY, Conan, Joel, Liang and me then went to watch War of the Worlds. Also not a bad movie. More exciting that the book, I must say =P Must be because it was Spielberg who made the movie. But the strong point was not the portrayal of the aliens, which I thought was rather implausible. Especially what became informally named as the "mutant vagina", that rubbery opening through which people are sucked into the tripods =P And the idea of sucking human blood just to spray it over everything is rather stupid, I think...it's a really inefficient way to Mars-form Earth. The ending too was a bit of a flop, in that they added this bit with patriotic American soldiers taking down a tripod, and they didn't explain that the aliens died from the flu bug.
But the nice bits were the protrayal of sheer human panic. Very realistic, to the extent that what we were scared of was not so much the aliens but the inhumanity of a huge group of people under threat of death. The savagery in the fight over the one working car of the whole town, then the murder of that man in the cellar. All quite poignant moments.
End of spoilers
Anyway, then Liang left and YJ came down to town to join us, and we went food-hunting, because everything was closing when we came out of the cinema. In the end ended up at the Cartel at Cine and was stuffing ourselves with sandwiches and free bread. Heh, started moaning about the amount of essays we have to write in the A's...imagine, if each 3h paper has at least 3 and usually 4 essays, that works up to 9h of lit, 6h of hist, 6h of econs and 6h of math, and altogether about 25 essays. We were hypothesising that we should hold marathon essay write-outs the way people do movie marathons. If we can survive 12h of essay writing, then we can live through anything the A's can throw at us =P
All in all quite a cool day, I guess. It feels good to know that we're going to be together for this last leg still, both the friends in and outside RJ. It's a feeling of security that I predict I'll be drawing on heavily in the months to come. And even though it is a pity that our remaining time can really only be counted in terms of months (2 months left to prelims!), it's sill worthwhile to note that we're going to go through all this together.
