words of mine; me in words

2012-01-27T21:35:00.000+08:00

First came ORD.
Then I found a great temporary job.
Now I've secured a bond-free scholarship.
What could be better?

2012-01-23T15:20:00.002+08:00

It's time to take back all that I've lost. It's time to live worthily, and elegantly. You won me in the battle. Now I will show you the war.

2012-01-14T21:51:00.003+08:00

SMU's LKCSP Interview Part 1: an intense experience. It was not exactly what you would expect an interview to be like. We were placed in various situations to test our teamwork, presentation skills, spontaneity, creativity, and EQ. I did well in certain portions, did okay in others, and screwed up a bit in some. One portion I could have done a lot better was in answering the question: "Why should we choose you for the Scholarship?" I did think of answers to the question beforehand, but I did not realise how insufficient and inappropriate my answers were. Had I given it more thought I would have answered a lot better: this was the part I performed the most badly.

That said, today was a good learning experience. It took me out of my comfort zone, and showed me what I was really capable of. Of course it also revealed to me my weaknesses. I cannot be sure I will pass this first round, but I am certain that if I do pass this round, I can do a lot better the next round. (So can the others?)

Whatever, I'm so mentally exhausted.

2012-01-12T23:20:00.000+08:00

When was the last time I wrote an essay by hand? Using pen and paper? A few minutes ago. I am scheduled for the Lee Kong Chian Scholarship Program's selection interview this Saturday. Since there is a possibility (but not certainty) of an essay writing component, I decided to write by hand today. I present to you:

Seeking a Temporary Job: the 'A' level holder who has just finished serving NSF (Incomplete)

The one thing that perhaps defined my one month after finishing NSF would be job-seeking. That new-found freedom came with greater responsibility for self. To seek a job was natural: I was running low on cash and needed income to support myself. Moreover, I wanted to experience working life and learn new things that my twelve years of education, and two years of bondage, never taught. It took me longer than I expected to be employed. School never taught me how to find a job. I shall share my experiences and thoughts. It will probably be useful to those finishing NSF in late January or in February.

How do you start? Before anything, you need a resume. A resume contains relevant information about yourself that employers may want or need to know. I'll go into detail about the resume later. There are a few ways to search for a job.

There is the traditional way of looking through Classified Ads in the newspaper. It is possible to get a job this way, but I do not recommend this method. Firstly, the advertisements on the newspapers have very limited space and contain little to no information. Usually there is only a contact number. Calling every single number before you even know much about these job offers is not efficient.

If you do decide to use the newspapers though, make sure you ask good questions to find out the important information before committing to any interview. Always ask what company you will be working for. This is important. Knowing the name of the company you can Google it and know who you'd be working for. You can read on forums about the company and see if it has any bad reputation in the case that the company is not established. Besides asking the company name, make clear the start date and end date (if there is one) of the job, pay, location, working days and hours, and job scope. After you have the details, don't agree to an interview yet. Write them down, say you'll call back if you're interested, then put the phone down. Do the same for a few more advertisements. Then, take some time to review what you have collected and do a bit of research if necessary. After that, you can then call the and arrange interviews for the offers that meet your criteria.

Another method, a more popular one, is searching online. I used Jobcentral and Jobstreet in my job search. They were useful in some ways. The first benefit of using them is in configuring your account/profile. You'll be asked to fill in a resume template, which is helpful if you don't have a resume already. Take some time to fill the templates in, then type a word document version of your resume following a similar format. This word document will be the resume you use in your job applications. Keep your resume concise, containing only important and relevant information. Also, make it presentable. Use spacing generously between segments, and put obvious headings. A concise and presentable resume allows the employer looking at your resume to grasp relevant information quickly, which is refreshing after looking through the sea of other submitted resumes.

The next feature of Jobcentral and Jobstreet is the mailing of recommended jobs to your email on a regular basis. You can create some guidelines to determine what kind of recommendations you receive. After doing these, you are set to scour the large pool of temporary/contract job advertisements. You'll see that online job advertisements, due to liberty of space, contain far more information than newspaper ones. This way, you don't need to waste time on job advertisements that do not cater to you requirements.

However, as you'll soon realise, most of the job advertisements show companies like Recruit Express, BGC group, TBC HR Consulting, Kelly Services etc. The state of advertising for temporary jobs now is this. Employers are turning to recruitment agencies to help them find temporary employees. I'll cover recruitment agencies (also known as job agencies) later. For now, if you see a job advertisement, directly from an employer, that appeals to you, go ahead and apply.

When you can always call rather than email. Emails have the tendency to not be replied. Making a call indicates that you are proactive and is likely to land you an interview right away. If you have no choice but to email, send an email with a subject heading clearly indicating the word 'APPLY/APPLICATION' and the job position. You don't know how many other emails yours will be sandwiched between. Include a short message, saying you're interested, applying, and keen for an interview; of course with the proper greeting and signing off. Attach your resume--you may want to tailor it slightly depending on the job and the requirements. Click send and hope for the best! Yea right. Go and search some more. Don't put all your eggs in one basket.

I've had various encounters with job agents from recruitment agencies during my one month of job-seeking. My opinion of them varies from a range of disgust and disdain to respect and trust. There are bad job agents. There are also good agents. It's not necessary to encounter a good job agent to land yourself the job, but a good job agent can help you loads with your job search. Before I discuss good/bad agents, let me touch on the topic of how a job agent relates to you and the employer.

You may ask: Why should I go through a job agent when I can go straight to the employer? Doesn't the job agent get some commission and take a cut off my pay? Firstly, you get paid what you are offered. If you're looking for an $8/hr job and find one, do you say 'This job should actually be $9.50/hr, so I'm not doing it.' even though you're otherwise totally fine with $8/hr? It's not like you're told you get paid $9.50/hr, then when you finally do get the pay check you realise that you only get $8/hr.

Moreover, it doesn't necessarily work in a way where your offered pay is a reduced number. It could be that the pay is already set, then the job agent gets a commission for matching a suitable candidate. The employer is likened to be 'hiring' the job agent to get a suitable candidate. Why don't employers do it on their own? Because it takes up manpower, and manpower costs money. Also, employers are unlikely to have as extensive a pool of candidates to choose from as job agents do. Knowing what kind of employee you want and knowing how to get the kind of employee you want are different things.

Of course, going through this middle-man has its own set of problems...

To be continued.

2012-01-09T19:39:00.003+08:00

Employed.

First day of work. I would say it's pretty okay. I do administrative tasks; they are nothing great, but there's some value in the things I do. Having been through only the first day I cannot guarantee that my optimistic view of work will remain, but as for now it is fine. Besides that, I am earning a comfortable pay for an undergraduate-to-be. The working environment is good too. My only possible gripe is that I don't get to meet people of my age, though being in an adult-only environment should turn out to be a good experience.

Cheers!

2011-12-31T23:12:00.000+08:00

I've learned what it is like to be unemployed. Unemployed not because I don't want to be employed, but unemployed despite trying and wanting to be employed.

The past few weeks has been a queer adventure. Being idealistic, I've been disappointed a number of times. I did outdoor commission-only sales for a day without earning enough to cover the expenses for that one day. I followed a job-lead only to realise it was a Multi-level Markerting scheme, then explored a little to experience how the dubious company sold itself. I received hope of a good job offer from an agent only to be told a few days later that it was no longer available--after I bought a few sets of office wear, grabbed MS Office and an MS Excel instructional book.

I wish to be employed because I want to experience working life. I want to do something of value and learn things, something other than what I've been used to in my twelve years of education. Of course besides that I am also financially constrained. I admit I have not been entirely wise with the meager income I had in the past two years. However I do not regret my major purchases: those things I've spent money on have all added value to my life and justified their cost.

Being unemployed can be frustrating. But when I think of my life in the last two years, I can only be happy. I am free now. The risk of being unemployed comes with freedom. For that, I am happy. At least I have my life in my own hands now. If I'm ever ordered around it's because I choose to be employed to take orders from someone. If I sleep early at 11pm and wake up early at 7am it's not because I must, but that I can and want to. Just thinking of those two years; a technique I acquired from a good friend.

Sunday nights are not terrible anymore.

2011-12-29T22:25:00.005+08:00

I cycled a while ago. Now I'm back home, writing this.

You might expect someone who just had a healthy dose of exercise to be all ready to write. Nope. When fatigued, the mind struggles to find energy to activate the part of the brain that aids analytic thinking. Since in writing to stay consistent with the rules of grammar some level of analytic thinking is required as with the process of converting thought and ideas into an intelligible form, fatigue impedes my current effort.

I would like to write again. Not just once. Frequently.

Why?

If you've read my past posts you'll see that I've given reasons then. I now wish to write again for similar reasons.

1) I enjoy writing as an art.

I like writing, but I more than like writing. It's an intricate process in which I'm in control, yet not in control at the same time. When I write it is my mind and hands that form the words, yet it feels like an unpredictable and unseen force dictates the direction and flow. When I'm done I feel a sense of accomplishment. I look at my writing as an artist would his work--with pride.

2) Writing orientates me.

Everyday countless thoughts run through my mind. I think of things. I ask questions. I try to answer them. But I don't fully remember. I believe that this process does leave imprints in the mind. As memories of thoughts and ideas slowly fade, I believe they assimilate into the mind in a subtle way, leaving an elusive yet present essence of themselves. Writing converts thoughts and ideas into a concrete form and magnifies their potential to leave imprints in the mind. The mind can only handle so many thoughts at once. Writing stores thoughts someplace where they cannot be lost, giving the mind the freedom to then reflect on these thoughts and their significance.

3) Writing gives me a sense of continuity.

What were you doing an hour ago? What were you doing yesterday? What were you doing on this day at this time last week? When we try to recall our fragile memories, we cannot help but realise how trapped in the present moment we are. If I write on a regular basis, I record some of my thoughts on a regular basis. When I look back at my past posts, I may not remember what exactly I was doing when and where, but, more importantly, I remember what I was thinking and when I was thinking what. I consider a person to be growing if his mind, or mental framework, is developing. Observing how similar or different my thoughts are at different points in my life, and the extents to which they relate to one another allows me to perceive continuity in this ever changing present moment.

2011-12-29T20:16:00.003+08:00

To ponder...
1) What does it mean to be a fan? Why do people become fans of others?
2) Does reading fiction increase a person's imaginative, and perhaps creative, capacity?
3) Is it better to read one good book a few times through, or read a few good books once through?

2011-11-16T12:26:00.002+08:00

Before me beauty unfolds.
The past feels like last night's nightmare.
That faint stream of light entering through the window
slowly glows brighter.
A warm feeling grows within me;
vaguely familiar, yet so alien.
Yesterday was so far away.
Today, at last.

2011-11-14T11:39:00.001+08:00

I was boyishly excited.
I am boyishly happy.
Goodbye you.
Hello life.

2011-07-24T19:53:00.004+08:00

Look at yourself and how you are viewing others;
that perverted sense of justice that you
so zealously employ and espouse.
You are blind:
lost in this illusion.
You are a puppet
manipulated by the system.
All that empty blabber testifies
to strained relationships
never meant to be--
coerced by authority
receiving undue respect.
Look; recall:
from when we all came in...
until now.
You, me, everyone.
Remember who you were
before it all started:
what you did
and what went through your mind
on a daily basis.
What about now?

It does not take a professor of psychology nor a psychiatrist to guess what prolonged exposure to a ruthless and senseless environment can do to a person.

It is tragic enough that the young men of our nation lose a few points in IQ every few months, that they are prone to periodic lapses of dignity, or that every unfortunate one sustains an injury that haunts him for life; but it seems that they even lose, sadly, bits and pieces of their personalities.

2011-06-01T22:49:00.003+08:00

I admit I might have fleeting obsessions. Once in a while something really attracts me, and thoughts of it would dominate my mind for quite a while--maybe a few weeks. After some time has passed my obsession subsides. My rational processes then kick in and decide whether to continue pursuing the obsession and at what level of engagement, allowing it to find its place among other things. It's a curious process. My mind chooses to revel in idealism for some time before being practical.

My life, to exaggerate, makes me feel like I'm on an emotional rollercoaster. My mood changes so often. Sometimes I feel so alive and happy, particularly outside camp (right now). At other times I feel angry and helpless.

Why do we worry about things? We worry about things because we care about them. We worry about the things we love in life. The more dear and important something or someone is to us, the more we worry about it/him/her. I remember seeing this line somewhere: 'Worrying is like a rocking chair... It gets you nowhere.' I don't agree. Worrying is an essential thought process that reminds us of the things we love in life. It tells us what we care about and compels us to figure out ways to pursue and protect them.

Here are some of the things that can make me feel a little happier (temporarily):
1) Chatting with friends I knew before NS: This reminds me of my past life when I was free and was the real me.
2) Cycling: The breeze lightens my mood and I'd feel a little adventurous.
3) Playing music (recently with Bloco Singapura): I feel alive and more whole, as the music enchants me and rouses my soul.

2011-05-22T19:26:00.006+08:00

Playing in a samba bateria is one of the most fulfilling things I have done in these two years of my life. I'd stand among a group of percussionists playing infectious grooves and feel like that's where I'm meant to be. I'd feel a heightened level of energy and all my worries become so tiny. My self becomes coherent: the parts of me organise themselves and focus on the music, drawn on by an urge that comes from deep within. I'd feel like it could go on forever.

Life is short. Life is sole. Do fame, power, glory and wealth really matter that much? I do not know. But I know I'm starting to doubt that they do. What about beauty, then? I want my life to be beautiful. I want my life to be lived fully, with experiences so beautiful that they, making up who I am and will be, should cause me never to want to be someone else.

2011-05-16T23:19:00.006+08:00

After days of tough work, I finally finished painting my room on Sunday (two days ago). I grossly underestimated the time and effort I needed to paint my room. I bought the paint last Monday in the afternoon. I spent the rest of the day clearing the furniture in my room, removing rusty nails from the walls and filling the holes with puttyfiller (a dough-like substance that solidifies after some time). On Tuesday morning I started lining the floor near the walls with newspaper and masking tape, which took nearly two hours. In the afternoon I went out (regrettably). I spent the whole of Wednesday at Universal Studios. Then I booked-in to camp. On Saturday morning I continued the preparatory work by sticking trash bags to the windows and remaining furniture to protect them from splattering paint, and also lining the edges of the ceiling near the walls with masking tape. I finally started the painting process. I only managed to paint half of my room's total wall surface area before I left to join Bloco Singapura for rehearsal (Damn, I reached late!). The rehearsal was until almost nine at night, after which I had an interesting little adventure and returned home to sleep in my room (which could've been mistaken for one in a soon-to-be demolished building). I finally completed painting on Sunday afternoon at around three, and rewarded myself with a (very) late lunch at AJISEN RAMEN.

I am really glad that I've finished painting my room. My room looks so much better now. My room makeover will soon be finished. I just need to get a bookshelf, a mirror and maybe some other furniture and I'll be done.

Because of the paint job and the continued interference of NS in my life (worse recently [Am I using too many brackets?]), I have been falling behind in my reading and watching of videos these two weeks. I don't like it.

I'm a little tired now, and reluctant to put in too much effort in writing so my writing may be a little sloppy.

The previous rehearsal with Bloco Singapura has spurred me to regain momentum in my practice of drum technique. I haven't been practising much because of the highly disruptive schedule of the past two weeks. I'm currently intent on getting my traditional grip to be as proficient as my matched grip. I practise the little-finger grip on my right hand when I practise traditional grip. With matched grip, I have finally broken through five months of apparent standstill in Moeller technique. For five months I progressed then regressed and wondered if I would ever play, with ease, accent patterns at anything faster than the slowest of speeds. At a time or two, I even felt like giving up altogether. Was it worth the effort and time spent? I could not give up. Drumming was the last thing I had that gave me hope of ever playing with Musical excellence. I had given up on the piano. I had given up on trying to learn the guitar. I wanted to use whatever time I had to spare for music to become better at drumming. I'm glad my persistence paid off. Now I no longer need to worry about my drum technique at a standstill. I have learned valuable practice lessons from the past few months and will adapt my practice routines so that my drum technique doesn't ever come to such a disheartening state again.

I feel like an adventurer.

2011-05-08T20:40:00.008+08:00

'This is a political landmark in modern Singapore.' I am impressed and glad that they did it. Early this morning, I, for the first time in my life, felt a surge of emotional uplifting because of political freedom. Finally, someone, some people, are here to stand up for us. They fought hard, and I applaud them for their success for both themselves and all Singaporeans who believe in the benefits of this political progress.

In the next five years we will see what they can do now that we have given them the opportunity. It wont be easy for them, but they have promised to try, and try even harder.

Right now I do not have my rights. I do not have freedom of speech and expression, and have thus chosen my words carefully. I am unable to even direct the course of my day to day life for the next seven months. I am severely underpaid: No, I'm not even paid--I'm merely 'allowed' to have just enough to live. I cannot even be home to see my family everyday; so alien I have become to my own home.

Surely I deserve to be treated this way. Surely I have done something gravely wrong to serve this sentence of a year and ten months.

What value am I creating? What value are all these young men creating? What value are all those old(er) men (and women) creating? We could do better. I could do better, much better than this. But my talent does not seem to be valued. I am suppressed by force of law.

Please, speak up for me. We know this could not be necessary. We know that if someone, or some people, tried and thought hard enough, knowing how much is lost every single day in our young men, we could come up with something better.

2011-05-01T10:08:00.004+08:00

Life outside camp is beautiful.

I meant to blog on Friday night to set my objectives for the weekend before it started. I was a little lazy--it's already Sunday now. This weekend I want to repaint my room! I shouldn't drag this step of my room makeover much longer, since I won't buy my furniture before I paint my room.

I have today and tomorrow. I'll need to clear up some more clutter in my room before I paint. What colour of paint should I choose? Perhaps I'll do a Google search to get some tips. My room's current wall colour is pale green. It's not too bad a shade and blends well with the furniture. I was thinking of using the same colour but that would be quite a waste since I'll be unlikely to achieve a fresh look.

This short little span of my life starting the moment I stepped out of camp on Friday afternoon until now has been a wonderful time. I feel alive outside camp. I feel like I'm the person I've once been, even if slightly different, similar because of the uplifting spirit that freedom evokes.

Yesterday, for the first time, I joined Bloco Singapura for practice! Bloco Singapura is a musical group that plays Brazilian percussion. Grooving with many other percussionists in Samba swing time is a wonderful feeling. The music makes me move as I play. I definitely prefer playing this kind of music than percussion in Concert Band. One rather intriguing aspect of Samba music is the 'rolling swing-16ths' rhythm. Most western music (besides jazz, shuffle and maybe some others) play straight-16ths with every note evenly, mathematically, spaced apart. Bend this straight rhythm a 'certain way' and add an accent on the first and fourth 16th notes and you get Samba's rolling swing-16ths, which produces a stop-go dancing kind of feeling. I found a pretty comprehensive attempt to explain this rhythm here: http://www.reocities.com/sd_au/samba/sambadrums.html. It examines the exact placing of each 16th-note in the Samba swing rhythm and explains how it came about and how it can be achieved.

I played the Caixa (the Samba [?] version of the snare drum), since I'm used to playing with drumsticks and have been practising drum technique with my drumsticks and practice pads for nearly a year. I have to start practising traditional grip since the Caixa is slung such that it tilts to the right. Luckily for me, I picked up traditional grip a few months ago and am able to use it, though not nearly as proficiently as my matched grip. I'll have to divide my drum technique practice time between matched grip and traditional grip. I don't want to lose my proficiency in matched grip either.

Life feels great, for now. I get this wonderful feeling knowing, or hoping perhaps, that after I finish NS and regain freedom I would feel like this most of the time. I believe so. There's so much waiting for me!

2011-04-23T20:29:00.007+08:00

A couple of weeks back a borrowed 101 Things I Learned in Business School by Michael W. Preis and Matthew Frederick. It is quite a short book. Each of the 101 things presented by the book takes up merely two pages: one with an illustration, and another with text. The pages are small too, so I finished the book pretty quickly. As expected from such a book, it didn't have much depth, but introduced an array of ideas and concepts, broadening my surface knowledge of things business-related.

I quite like some of the '101 things':

1) Business is the exchange of entities to which values have been assigned.
A definition of business right at the very start! In every consenting exchange, each party values what he receives more than what he gives. This is how business creates value in society. In every exchange, both parties gain--both parties become better off.

2) Business is not a single field of endeavor.
Business encompasses the fields of Accounting, Finance, Marketing, Production and Operations, Organisational Behaviour, and Economics. This gives me a good overview of the fields that I will need to have a good understanding of to do well in Business. Currently I am working on increasing my understanding of Accounting, Finance and Economics.

15) A mission or vision statement that is impossible to disagree with might not be saying much of significance.
This one carries a tinge of humour. If the opposite of the mission of vision statement is absolutely undesirable, it does not help any organisation much in terms of direction. The members already know that they should be doing exactly what the mission or vision statement says even if it weren't already the mission or vision statement.

16) Learn an organisation's culture before working with or for it.
Different organisations have different accepted 'behaviours, norms, attitudes, priorities and beliefs'. On the individual's scale, a person might be uncomfortable or be unable to perform well if he works for an organisation with a culture the complete opposite of his ideals. On the corporate scale, different organisations with conflicting cultures may encounter problems if they work together. Perhaps sometimes the individual does not have a choice, as I do not now. But in the future, I'll be careful to take this into consideration when looking for jobs/internships.

19) Most employees wants to do good work.
'Workers may be motivated extrinsically or intrinsically.' Extrinsic motivation is in the form of praise, recognition, money or punishment. 'Intrinsic motivation comes from a worker's internal sense of purpose, personal enjoyment of the work, and satisfaction of a job done well.' This reflects what I believe work has to be like. Although I have no work experience, I do sincerely believe and hope that in future I can work on Intrinsic motivation. Currently as I read and watch videos to increase my knowledge, particularly of business, I really am driven by an innate curiosity and desire to learn.

44) Repetition doesn't make a statement true, but it can make it believable.
Apparently, getting a repeated message will make us tend to believe the message. But is this really the case? Is it really possible that a message can subtly slip through our rational processes and nudge us to believe it? This falls under Psychology, another field I find quite fascinating.

48) Those who say theory 'isn't the real world' don't understand what theory is.
49) 'There's nothing so practical as a good theory.' - Kurt Lewin (1890-1947)
I have long been a lover of theory. It is not uncommon for me to use theories that I have learned to try to explain why things tend to happen certain ways, or even create my own theories. This played a part in prompting me to consider taking Economics as a Second Degree besides Business Management. Economics is commonly said to be largely theoretical and so, implied to be, impractical. But is theory really impractical? The more I read about Economics, the more I realise how much I am missing by not having had a solid understanding of Economics.

55) Complaints can be good things.
56) 'Your most unhappy customers customers are your greatest source of learning.' - Bill Gates, Business @ The Speed of Thought
A customer who complains does the business a favour by giving feedback, while many others who couldn't be bothered would just leave and turn to alternative businesses. A customer willing to take the effort to complain usually does so because he wants to continue doing business (buying goods/services) but is not satisfied with something. Customers who have their complaints addressed are likely to become loyal customers.

80) When overwhelmed, try doing fewer things, but doing them better.
Currently I am trying to do so many different things with the limited amount of free time I have. That I am reading four books at one time says something. It was more until I finished reading 101 Things I learned in Business School and postponed reading Value Investing. I am also in the midst of a room makeover, and have not started managing my finances and goals. Beside these, I am also watching TED and Khan Academy videos, and practising drum technique on a regular basis. But I can't let go of any of them! I am accomplishing far less than desired, but I do not think the problem lies with trying to do too many things. It lies with having too little free time. It can't be helped.

Other than these, there were many other useful 'things' that I learned from the book. It was a good read. I am learning more and more. I hunger for more. The past few times I went to the library and looked at the non-fiction sections, especially the Business section, I felt such an intense yearning for the books and pity that I have so little time right now. So much time is wasted.

2011-04-16T12:14:00.012+08:00

I just completed a significant step of my room makeover. I dismantled the unsightly and space consuming double-decker bed frame in my room, removed it and replaced it with a simple bed frame. I took it from my sister's room. It's quite pleasant looking and has hidden wheels underneath so I can slide it about my room as I please. I did quite a lot of vacuuming, getting rid of as much dust as I could. My room looks a lot better now. It feels more spacious without the tall and looming metal double-decker bed frame I previously had. And I no longer have railings to hinder my leg/arm movement.

My room makeover seems to be progressing so well I can foresee a remarkable change by the time I'm done. I wish I took photos of my room before I started doing anything to it, along with photos between the intermediate steps. It would be interesting. But I have already missed the chance to take the 'before' photos. Oh well.

So far I have removed an old sofa-armchair (used only to accumulate junk on it) taking up space at one corner of my room and my old double-decker bed frame. My next step would be to get a height-adjustable office chair. I think I should get one without cushions so it would be easy to clean. I would have to make sure the chair is comfortable though. I am willing to invest in one because I believe I will be using it quite a lot with my intensive computer usage; even more so after NS. After that, I need to access my surfaces and storage needs. I need to decide if I need to change my current table(s) and the size/kind of shelves I need. And in doing so, I will need to plan the layout of my room.

I aim to make my room as clutter-free and organised as possible. Space-efficient storage (shelves, drawers and the like) will help me store my items so that I will not have things in unsightly stacks for lack of storage space. My key concern is the storage of books. I have run out of shelf space and am resorting to stacking books in the corner or just leaving them to pile up on the table(s). I want my table to be clear all the time, with only essential items. I love reading and books, and foresee myself buying and collecting books in the next few years. I will need to be sure that I have more than enough storage for my 'personal library'. I will also need a small, simple shelf for putting books that I need quick access to. It will be my 'currently-in-use' shelf. I already have a shelf that I think will suit this purpose, but I have to move the books on it somewhere else first. I want a clutter-free room so that I can find things that I want to use without frustration, and so increase the efficiency of doing things. Moreover having a neat and organised room will be a lot easier to clean, not to mention the pleasant psychological effect that it will have on me.

This makeover requires time, effort and money. I have to balance between my needs and wants, and the costs. Since my income is less than what even the simplest part-time job provides, money is quite a concern. However, my makeover is with a view to making the next few years of my life spent in my room as efficient and pleasant as possible: NS, after NS, and university life. So, I am willing to spend a part of my savings on my makeover. But given the limited savings I have, I had better be careful with my spending.

Speaking of money, I want to undergo a re-organisation of my life. Besides organising my room to make it as conducive as possible. I want to account for my finances, time and goals.

I want to account for my finances so that I can manage them. I want to know how much of my monthly income is spent, and the kinds of expenses that account for the different portions of my spending. I do this partly motivated by an increased awareness of the purposes and benefits of accounting. (A few days ago I borrowed Accounting for Dummies by John A. Tracey in my effort to increase my knowledge and understanding of the various aspects of business.) By tracking my spending, I will know if I have a monthly net increase or loss for my bank balance. I can also update myself on the amount of savings I have. Most importantly, I can see the make-up of my expenses and adjust my spending to reduce unnecessary spending. With the right adjustments, I can use my limited income more effectively and even save up for important purchases.

I want to account for my time and goals because I find myself having too many things to do and too little time to do them. Of course, having a lot less time a week than any free person in the world can't be avoided for the next eight months, but I want to make the most efficient use of whatever time I have for my goals. Organising my goals will involve prioritising them. I will have to identify and rank them, very generally, by importance. I'll also have to divide them between the quantity-achievable goals (goals that involve completing a certain task; doing a room makeover, for instance) and the continually-doing goals (goals that involve a continued commitment to doing tasks on a regular basis: drum technique practice, for instance). Then, I have to account for the time that I spend, and re-allocate according to priority and to maximise efficiency.

2011-04-09T00:08:00.005+08:00

This week wasn't exactly a fruitful week. Part oppression, part distraction. I will need to be more disciplined and persist in maximising the use of my time even though sometimes I just can't do anything about the silly events that waste chunks of my time. I can almost feel my brain rot after hours of mindless activity (or inactivity). I don't have much time. I know what I want. So I'll do what I want whenever I can.

I've read a portion of minimum SPACE maximum LIVING. I've gained a fair bit of ideas and advice from it. My priority is efficient storage and de-cluttering since my room is small. I'll definitely still need tall shelves. I could try getting a bed frame with a built in storage space underneath to put stuff I rarely use. I'll need to access the cost of buying replacement furniture. It might be a problem for me. Repainting will probably be too much of a hassle. I'll just make do with my current wall colour, it's not too bad. I'll have to get rid of some of the unused, and probably never-to-be-used, stuff in my room too.

In my fanatic campaign of self-learning, I've been considering the benefits and opportunity cost of playing (video) games. Games are usually fun. Some are addictive. Some are thrilling. Some leave me with a sense of emptiness a while after I stop playing. Some keep me thinking about them long after I've stopped playing. Some drain my energy. Some stimulate my brain. Some are a waste of time. Some might actually have some things to learn about.

Some time this week or last weekend, I remembered the game: Capitalism II. If I'm not wrong it was mentioned in one of the comments on a Khan Academy (Finance) video lesson. Reviews of the game say it's probably the best Business emulation game so far. It has complex game mechanics and gameplay. The player runs a corporation and has to make a host of decisions to attempt to make profits and dominate industries. There are too many gameplay aspects to mention all of them here. From just reading half of the user manual, I have got a rough idea of some business concepts such as: supply chain; corporate branding; product desirability as a combination of brand, quality and price; private brand labelling; and research and development. I'd say this is a game for me. There couldn't be anything better than having fun and learning at the same time. You can't blame me for being so calculative of my time since I already have so much of my personal time and freedom taken away.

I have to sleep now. Tomorrow morning I have a Pioneer Alumni Circle meeting to attend. Good night, my dear reader.

2011-04-03T16:00:00.007+08:00

I shall start my post with what I have learned from watching Khan Academy video lessons so far. The video lessons I have watched so far are under the 'Core Finance' section. I have watched from 'Introduction to interest' up to 'Compound interest and e (part 4)'.

These are what I have learned (about) so far:

-the concept of Present Value and the mathematics behind it; a 'Y' amount at a future date has the Present Value of an 'X' amount today which, through a risk-free investment, will become 'Y' amount upon reaching that future date
-the basic format of a Balance Sheet
-the concepts of Asset, Liability and Equity; A = E + L or A - L = E
-how mortgages work; the concepts of Down Payment and Foreclosure
-the details of comparing buying to renting a home: interest vs rent, flexibility, risk etc.
-how the price of housing in the US continued to climb from 2000-2005 despite what appeared to be a greater increase in supply of housing than demand for housing
-how capital is raised to start up a company; investor, pre-money (asset) valuation and share-issuing
-how further 'Venture Capital' can be raised in a similar fashion to start-up capital
-the concept of an 'Initial Public Offering (IPO)', during which a company issues shares to the public, allowing the public to invest in the company
-what it means to buy stock of a company
-the concept of bonds as loans, to a company, with an agreed 'maturity' duration and interest rate
-the concept of shorting stock: speculating that a stock's share price will fall in the future and so borrowing shares of it to sell at the moment at its (high) price then buying them back in the future when the price has fallen (buy low) to return the 'borrowed' shares
-the risk of losing an unlimited amount of money when shorting stock
-how shorting stock and share price speculation in general can reduce volatility
-the concept of 'Bankruptcy Liquidation'; it occurs when a company cannot pay its debts and is no longer profitable to run: the assets are sold (or liquidated), and the money is returned first to creditors (bond certificate holders) in order of 'seniority' followed by shareholders if there are any left-overs
-the concept of 'Bankruptcy Restructuring'; it occurs when a company is not able to generate enough revenue to cover the interest on its debt, but is still profitable to run with less debt: the assets are re-valuated and the amount of debt the company can handle is accessed; then depending on these quantities, shares of the company are re-issued to creditors, and the remaining (if any) are re-issued to the prior shareholders
-the concept of 'Return on Capital' and 'Cost of Capital'
-how 'Mortgage-Backed Securities' work; mortgage loans are repackaged by an investment bank to be held by a 'special-purpose-entity' that has its shares issued to investors (who indirectly become buyers of the loans)
-what 'Collateralized Debt Obligations (CDOs)' are; a 'special-purpose-entity' can repackage 'Mortgage-Backed Securities' into different levels of risk and reward for different kinds of investors to choose from
-what the 'Treasury Yield Curve' is: a graph plotted with interest rate and duration of government bills/notes/bonds as the axes
-the concept of continuously compounding interest

I just borrowed a book, minimum SPACE maximum LIVING by Barty Philips, a 'practical guide to making the most of small rooms and awkward spaces in your home'. I am thinking of doing a makeover for my room. I'll need bigger and taller shelves to put my books and files (some of which are in unsightly stacks due to limited shelf space). I might change my tables, chairs and bed frame. I want a nice big mirror. And I might repaint the walls (it's a little troublesome, I'll see how it goes).

My task at hand is to create a few bookmarks for myself to use. I bought some rolls of ribbons and A6-sized construction paper to do this. I'm spending quite a large portion of my time reading and I find that bookmarks do save quite a lot of time especially for interrupted sessions of reading.

Today I asked myself why I always find myself without sufficient time. I believe the answer is quite obvious. I feel like doing a 'Time Account' to account for all the time I have and how much time (in general) I spend doing this and that. But not now. I'll go and create my bookmarks now--maybe with the help of Google search.

2011-04-02T00:54:00.003+08:00

I believe it is forgivable to have an unfavourable emotional response to an event. But is it forgivable to have an unfavourable emotional response and let it go out of control?

Time and again, when I get upset, I find myself putting a large part of the blame on my bondage. Will this become a habit? Has this become a habit? When I am free again will I really be immeasurably happier? When I am free again will I not find some other excuse? Some other thing to blame for my shortcomings?

But I could but pity myself. Ought I come to terms with my bondage, accepting it without resisting, and so betray my true self that deserves to be free?

Even on weekends when I'm at home I'm not truly free. Not yet. The huge amount of control that the organisation has of my life haunts me wherever I go. It is only in those brief moments of distraction, those brief moments of simple delights, when I forget reality and can experience an illusionary freedom.

Lately, I find myself fighting for every bit of control of my life. I deserve a worthier life.

-

Currently reading:
How to Write and Speak Better; Reader's Digest
Economics; John Sloman
The Story of Philosophy; Will Durant
The Republic; Plato
Value Investing; Sebastian Chong

2011-03-27T20:03:00.006+08:00

Today while watching videos on ted.com, I discovered a great website, Khan Academy, containing video lessons on Mathematics, Sciences, Finance and Economics. I've watched the first few videos under Core Finance and have learned quite a bit. I am so glad I found ted.com and now Khan Academy: TED video by Salman Khan on Khan Academy

The lessons on Khan Academy are sequenced in a logical and progressive order within the various categories. If you need help in Mathematics there are lessons from the most simple calculations of 1 plus 1 to Advanced Mathematics (roughly GCSE 'A' Level standard or higher).

There is also a large Finance section and I plan to eventually finish watching all of the videos. I am pretty sure the videos are going to help me in preparing for my future. In the short run, the knowledge would help me have better understanding of current affairs related to Finance and Economics, and may well prepare me for my Scholarship interview that should come in January next year. I can also sense a ripple effect that increasing my knowledge in Finance and Economics would cause since I'll be taking the BBM program in SMU, which consists of quite a few related courses (and even more if I decide to major in Finance and/or Economics).

Right now I seem like a freak obsessed with my future. But the learning, discovery, and self-improvement that I undergo are quite fulfilling.

2011-03-25T17:37:00.004+08:00

If not now, then maybe not again.

I'll be off, cycling, within a couple of hours. Initially I didn't feel like blogging since I don't have much time. I'll be doing my drum technique practice once I'm done with blogging. However, I feel that my current state of mind just seems right for writing; so I'll just write even if it'll be short.

Where should I start? Hubpages. Some time ago I mentioned my venture into Hubpages, a site where I can publish articles. I did so primarily to generate a 'cash-flow' through advertising money. One reason why I stopped was that my Google Adsense account was not approved. Apparently, from a quick research I did, users from Asian countries require six months of established web presence to have their Google Adsense accounts approved. Right now, I think I've had my articles posted for more than six months. I'll try to activate my Google Adsense account again. If I succeed in doing so, I'll begin writing more articles to post on Hubpages. As usual, doing so ideally (and surely in practice) comes with secondary benefits: improvements in writing and English, and the organising of ideas and knowledge.

I want to return to Hubpages because I realised I would be a lot better of in the next few years if I'm really able to set up a 'cash-flow' by posting articles on the website. As I've said in one of my earlier posts, one of my goals is to gain (pseudo-)financial independence. I won't gain complete financial independence since I still stay in my parents' house and have certain miscellaneous expenses covered by them. But I want to be financially independent enough to provide for my daily expenses, occasional 'big' purchases, and overseas trips. I foresee myself going overseas quite often in SMU. I will want to go overseas when opportunities present themselves. I do not want to lose opportunities just because they are too costly financially. Perhaps my parents can finance me. But I feel that I have a responsibility to support myself financially if I can. After all, I might just have the ability to do so.

I know that the very idea of earning money online sounds dubious. It does and I'm still not entirely sure if my mini business venture will work out. But, idealistic and ambitious, I'm eager to try. After all, I do have the time to slowly explore and see if it works out. It is one of the things I can do now that may just help me that little bit in the future--when I'm free once again.

2011-03-19T18:17:00.014+08:00

I wish I could blog whenever I want to. Many times during the week I would feel the urge to blog but, being trapped in camp, be unable to do so.

I believe that blogging helps me to organise my thoughts and cast things that I have learned into a more concrete form. It helps me to grow as a person, because in writing down my thoughts I can see them from a wider perspective and gain insight.

I would rather not write with pen and paper as it is too slow a method to facilitate my flow of thoughts. Typing is fast enough, and a lot less tiring.

Recently I finished reading the book Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman. It was a pretty long read: I took about a month to finish it. As is usually the case when reading non-fiction books, I cannot remember every single thing that I have read. What I have gained, however, are concepts and ideas. I do not remember these concepts and ideas in their raw form as presented by the text. They, after being coloured by my mind--with its own concepts and ideas--in the learning process, become a part of me.

One of the more factual things that I have learned is 'Emotional Hijacking'. The flow of incoming data into the brain is such that, while a large portion of the data is fed to the thinking part of the brain (neo-cortex), a tiny portion is fed directly to the emotional part of the brain (amygdala) though a quicker route. The amygdala scans the incoming data for any sign of threat. If an indication of threat is detected, the amygdala sends an emergency signal to the rest of the brain, before the brain has time to process the information properly, and 'hijacks' the rest of the brain. A 'fight-or-flight' response follows, and an overwhelming rage or terror can take hold of the mind and body. In this mode, certain thinking parts of the brain lose control and we find that we are unable to 'think straight'.

This function of the brain is primitive. For the sake of speed, it sacrifices accuracy. While the function may be useful in a situation where response to a threat needs to be immediate, unregulated it results in inappropriate (and potentially dangerous) responses to situations that really pose no threat at all.

I find this information useful because in understanding this function of the brain I can have better awareness of and control over my impulses. Now when I feel a sudden surge of intense anger or fear running through me at inappropriate times I can regulate it by thinking rationally and accessing the situation, restraining myself from acting rashly.

Emotional Intelligence has also enlightened me on many other issues, including the role of emotions, emotional self-awareness, empathy, and the workings and growth of the emotional brain. I would not expand on all of them as it would take too much time--I don't want to spend too much time blogging. If I had the ability and privacy to blog daily, I would most surely have blogged in detail about the things I have learned while reading the book when they were fresh in my mind. Since that isn't the case, I have to compromise. But I have to say Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman is, I believe, one of the most influential books that I have read so far, perhaps comparable with the five books that have had a lasting influence on my life:

This is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn by Aidan Chambers
The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
Of Human Bondage by William Somerset Maugham
The Story of Philosophy by Will Durant
How to Write and Speak Better by Reader's Digest

This is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn opened the world of diary writing and introspection to me.

The God Delusion was the final push that helped me to break free from the religion that I had been struggling with for a few years and prompted me to discover a life of meaning without religion.

Of Human Bondage, a fictional autobiography, tells a story that I identified with. It made me even more introspective and hunger for philosophy.

The Story of Philosophy introduced philosophy to me. It introduced ideas and concepts, then rigourously criticised them. It helped to organise my confused mind. Many of the ideas I read in the book I had previously thought about; the book addressed them with greater rigour and clarity.

Although I am only halfway through my mega-project to study How to Write and Speak Better, it has greatly influenced my standard and style of English and writing. I am only beginning on the 'How to Speak Better' portion, having nearly completed two of three sections of the 'How to Write Better' portion.

And I continue on my journey.

Free me.

2011-03-12T00:42:00.006+08:00

I just came back from cycling. Cycling feels great. I feel free, relaxed and in control when I cycle. Cycling once a week on weekends: it is how I have adapted to keep healthy and sufficiently fit despite unfavourable circumstances.

I don't have much time to write. It's past midnight now, and in the morning I'm going to NTU's open house. My schedule this weekend is pretty tight. Maybe I'll write again on Sunday, maybe I won't. The following is a brief sketch of my current thoughts. I don't have the time to expand them, so I'll just have to be satisfied with however little I can write for now.

I have been thinking. About SMU. About the choices I will be making in the near future that will determine how my university experience would turn out.

Throughout the week I was obsessed with thoughts of SMU, and how I could clinch that 'prestigious' Lee Kong Chian Scholarship. I thought of how I might be able to handle a Double Degree (Business Management and Social Science). I would need to squeeze 5 courses into each school term (instead of 4 courses). And I would still need to take courses during school breaks. And I would probably need to extend my time in SMU half a year longer, to 4.5 years. But until today, the huge opportunity cost of taking a double degree instead of just one didn't strike me as too significant.

I suddenly realise that I don't want my university life to be too dominated by academic work. Instead of taking a double degree, I could just take a much less demanding double major and spend more time doing other things. I don't want to miss out on the fine things in life by being preoccupied with academic work. I could join more than one CCA. I could be more committed to my CCA(s). I could spend more time with friends, and have time for a girlfriend. And I would probably achieve better academic results if I focus on the smaller workload. Suddenly, choosing not to take a Double Degree seems like a much better idea.

2011-03-06T20:35:00.011+08:00

Yesterday, I went to SMU's Open House to find out more about the university that I'm going to enroll in a year plus from now. I sure did.

The keystone of SMU's teaching philosophy is the seminar-style lessons. There aren't separate lectures and tutorials. Instead, they are combined, and a professor teaches a class of around 45 students, allowing instant feedback and class interaction. I saw the 'classroom'. It is quite impressive. The seats are tiered such that back-row seats are higher, and all the seats are arranged in a U-shape. According to them, this is meant to facilitate class interaction. Having sat on one of the seats and taking a glance around, I can't disagree. There was a classroom with 50 seats and, unlike the classrooms for 40 students I used when I was in secondary school, every seat gave a clear view of everything going on in the classroom.

SMU's Lee Kong Chian School of Business now has biggest intake of the Business schools in Singapore, 700 compared to 450 in NBS and 400 in NUS Business School. I didn't know that before yesterday. This does mean that in the future, nearly half of Business students in Singapore would graduate from SMU, unlike in the past when all came mostly from NTU and NUS.

I asked some of the students there about SMU: school timetable, course-bidding, student life, scholarships etc. I have a better understanding of the curriculum now. I am now considering taking up a second degree in Social Science besides Business Management. Some of the students I talked to had positive feedback about the Social Science degree program--students taking it tend to enjoy what they learn. Originally, I only wanted to take a second Major in Psychology. But I looked at the courses I would take in the Social Science degree program, and asked myself why not? Those are things that I take an interest to and if they are really so enjoyable, then I should consider the double degree program.

Moreover, if I take a double degree program I will be eligible to apply for the Lee Kong Chian Scholar's Program, which covers expenses for 3 overseas trips! The thought of going overseas excites me (as it would most other prospective students). It also covers the tuition fees as does the SMU Scholar's Program. I hope to acquire either of the Scholarships. The interview will be next year January, and from now until then I should prepare myself for it. I will have to improve my speaking and self-presentation skills, and also continue to grow and learn as a person so that when the interview comes, SMU can see me as a suitable candidate for the Scholarships.

Next weekend, I shall go for NTU's and NUS's open houses, despite in-camp duty from Saturday evening until Sunday morning. I hope to learn as much about NTU and NUS, particularly about their business schools, as I did from SMU's open house.

2011-02-26T22:56:00.007+08:00

I recently came upon this website: ted.com. It's a website with videos of talks concerning a broad range of subjects including Science, Business, Design, Music, Economics and Psychology.

The talks I've watched so far are intellectual, thought-provoking and inspiring. I'm quite excited with this discovery. The videos, along with the website's community that posts comments of matching intellectual vigor, are just what I need to stimulate and feed my mind. I want to continue to grow intellectually even as I now live a life which requires barely any intellect.

I can also practise my writing skills and expressing my opinions by posting comments to the videos I watch. By turning off the subtitles, I can improve my 'listening (and watching) comprehension'.

More importantly, I really do like watching the videos--and reading the comments. It's definitely a much more productive past time than playing computer games*.

Here is one of the videos I watched last weekend when I first found ted.com. It's a talk by Charles Limb, a doctor and a musician, about a study he did on the brain during musical improvisation.

Being a (non-professional) musician myself, I was drawn to this video when I saw the title. The endless possibilities that improvisation gives music fascinated me the moment I discovered it. It was the reason why I gave up the piano and continued drumming instead. Drumming gave me a lot more freedom. Not that there's little improvisation possible in playing the piano though. In the video you'll see a video (a video within the video) of a pianist improvising. It's actually quite amazing. But I love drumming too much to bother practising on the piano anymore.

Enough about myself. Enjoy the video.

Charles Limb: Your brain on improv | Video on TED.com

*: For a period of a little less than a month, recently, I got absorbed into a RPG: The Elder Scrolls 3, Morrowind. It was quite an experience but it took up so much time I'm glad I've stopped playing.

2011-02-19T23:25:00.003+08:00

I see them getting fooled. I know it's all an act. It's a beautiful garden and front door that hides a messy and ugly interior. It disgusts me. I am obliged and silenced by law and fear of consequences.

I question the nature of the organisation. Does the organisation persist in this manner because this really is the best way to do good--through huge sacrifices by those who do not have a choice? Or because it thrives on heartless brainwashing and exploitation?

2011-01-15T01:09:00.007+08:00

I practice because I want to play music, not to count bars of rests. Concert band is starting to get sickening.

I want to play music. I want to groove. I want to have control over the music I play. I don't want to just play notes that are dictated for me. I want to be unable to resist moving when I play music. I want to play music that makes people move.

Tell me: why haven't I found what I seek? Is it because I am looking in the wrong places?

Bloco Singapura, Samba Masala; could you be what I'm looking for?

2011-01-01T20:19:00.010+08:00

最近我打算开始认真地学好华文。我觉得这对我是有好处的。我以前有写来解释我为什么得学好华文。那我怎么打算去做呢？现在刚开始，我就看中文连续剧和电影。我使用 ppstream 来看这些连续剧和电影。我今天刚看完了一个叫“铁面歌女”的连续剧。当我的华文进步了多一点时，我就打算看一些中文书。我也可以练习写华文。虽然现在我的华文不大好，我相信我会渐渐进步。说不定有一天我的华文程度还能比我今天的英文程度好呢。就此搁笔，我想象我这走的是一条精彩的路。

2010-12-29T12:22:00.017+08:00

What does NS mean to me?

NS means the loss of freedom and control over my life. The day I enlisted, 6 February 2010, was the start of a long journey that many times I wish I never had to undertake. I love freedom so much that to have had it taken away from me is agony. I'm not one who'll let others tell me what to do. I'd rather exercise my right to choose.

NS means the loss of so many other better opportunities for me. I cannot undertake my studies earlier to continue my path in education. I am less able to have healthy relationships with friends of both genders. I am unable to continue working in environments where everyone is self-motivated rather than obliged and merely looking forward to 'Book-out', 'Off' and 'ORD'. I have lost the chance to make important decisions for myself and my future at this stage of my life.

18 years old is the golden age of a person! It is the bridge betwen childhood and adulthood. How could they take me away at such an age and restrain me under harsh military law rather than let me be to choose the life I want to live? I was never meant to be a soldier. I could never imagine shooting to kill. I have health problems that flare up with just some military training. I am dismayed that an apparently first world nation like Singapore has to resort to conscription in the name of National Defence. Perhaps there is no better alternative. But I, as an individual thinking of my own life and rights, find it difficult to appreciate this idea of taking away so much of my life and freedom in exchange for 'security'. I don't think it's worth it.

Perhaps one good thing that NS has done to me is that it has made me angry. Angry people are proactive people. Angry people seek change. Having freedom and opportunities stripped away from me naturally makes me angry. One day I was a proud Singaporean, a good boy doing just what the government wants every student to do: study hard, get good grades, have good CCA and CIP 'achievements'. The next day I was a 'chao' recruit--the lowest lifeform--thrown into Tekong, with a future of carrying heavy loads across long distances. How could I not be angry?

This anger makes me desire so much to live a worthy life once I'm free again. I keep thinking. What should I do after I ORD? What can I do now to prepare for my life after ORD? Bit by bit, I am formulating my post-ORD plan. Thinking about the life that's waiting for me when I'll be free again, though a mixture of delight in anticipation and pain in waiting, makes me feel alive.

My BMT experience.

It feels like a long time since I was a free man. It feels like a long time since the day before 6 February 2010. My overall take on my NS experience so far is largely and deeply negative. This, I can analyse, is likely due to two reasons. One, as shown above, is that I hate NS for taking away my freedom and opportunities. The other is the experience I had in those fateful 9 weeks of BMT. The shock that I got from BMT has coloured my impression of NS with a lot of negativity. As long as I'm serving NS, those memories of BMT will continue to haunt me.

BMT was an unpleasant time. When I first entered BMT, I was ready to do my best and excel in the new phase of my life. I had acquired an attitude of self-excellence in my earlier years and wanted to be the best wherever I went. I was enthusiastic and put in extra effort during the trainings during BMT. But my efforts were futile. I soon realised that it was pointless trying too hard in BMT, as I would just get punished anyway and the others would just look at me as trying to ‘Wayang’. Also, in trying too hard I was exhausting myself physically, mentally and emotionally.

My worst time came when route marches started. I never imagined that there could be any exercise that would cause such intense prolonged pain. I had many problems with route marching. After a while I would have difficulties breathing, and if the sun was up I would get a bad headache. I couldn't take the fact that I was suffering while everyone around was saying that I had to go through that suffering, that everyone had to go through the same suffering, and that if I could not go through it I was weak. Until now I do not believe that strength lies in the ability to endure suffering. Strength is the ability to get things done. I don't think being able to carry heavy loads for long distances is a useful strength*. Feeling too much pain when doing something just means that there is something wrong with doing that certain thing. Otherwise, why do humans feel pain? To get a kick out of it? Obviously to avoid causing harm to the body!

I broke down on the first day of BMT field camp. After marching an 8km route march to the field camp site, we were punished in FBO. I was already physically exhausted before the start of field camp. I had a headache and felt terrible. I asked myself at that time, again and again, why I had to go through all that. I had just gotten my 'A' level result and it was good. I thought of my future and why I was there. What was the relationship? Why did I have to through the pain? I just wanted to be free to go home. I started lamenting my fate in front of my platoonmates. While they dug the 'drainage' for the tents I just sat at one side in my own misery. Eventually, with some coaxing from my section-mates, I fell-out.

Although I returned to join my section after a while, I fell-out again on the second day. I don't know why I was such a fool and continued to put in effort when doing the Fire Movement drills. After a while running in SBO, I got a fever and breathing difficulties. I reported to my Section Commander. 'Are you going to die?', he shouted at me. I didn't do anything wrong. Why do they have to treat people who report sick with such contempt?

At the same time my Ezcema was starting to act. All that camo-cream painted on my face and neck, coupled with the dirt, heat and sweat, started to cause me to itch badly. On the second day I was sent to the Medical Centre for Fever and Ezcema. I was given 3 days Light Duties and admitted to the sick bay for one night. The Medical Officer did not want to go through the hassle of getting me an excuse for Camo-Cream. I spent the remaining three days of Field Camp on 'Medical Status'.

After field camp, I couldn't care about excelling in NS anymore. I felt that it wasn't worth the pain and suffering. I decided I didn't care about going to Command School and getting a Leadership position. During SIT-test I remained silent while others were 'Wayanging'. When the form to indicate my decision for Command School came, I checked the option 'NO'. I didn't care what they said. I couldn't care to be a Commander. I just wanted to do the minimum and finish my term. When BMT was finally over after the 24km route march and Graduation Parade, I felt such intense relief. Seeing my parents present there at that dreaded place where I had been in misery for 9 weeks is a feeling that cannot be described. Thinking of it now still brings tears to my eyes.

A glimmer of hope came when I was invited to audition for the SAF band sometime between Field Camp and the Graduation Parade. I wanted to get into SAF band. I would be able to spend my term just practising and playing music, which was what I loved doing anyway. SAF band was my hope. A hope that was to be crushed.

`

*: Sure, being good at route marches indicate that you're able to carry heavy loads over long distances. But is it a useful strength? Perhaps it would be if we're ignorant of modern transportation. We don't see people lugging their newly bought television sets or washing machines from shopping malls to their homes, do we?

2010-12-27T19:24:00.008+08:00

It has been a pretty long time since my last post.

I felt I could not write. I felt I had nothing to write. I felt it was pointless to write. What could I write about? Was I to continue publishing posts after posts that lament this lack of a life I go through? What value is there in writing about my unhappiness?

Nonetheless, I return, because I have nowhere else to go. At least when I write I feel whole. I allow myself to understand why I feel what I feel. I impose a certain order upon my thoughts so that they would less conflict with each other or with me.

But why write publicly? Should not such thoughts born of intense emotions be kept close to one's heart? I publish what I write because it makes me feel like I am letting my thoughts run free. It gives these words life because someone can, even if no one will, read them. It makes me feel that this tininess within me is opened to an abundance of space. It lets my breathless heart take in fresh draughts of air. The bonded need to feel free.

So, what could have happened in the past few months since I last wrote? Much.

I ventured into Hubpages for a few weeks. Hubpages is a website where users can write and publish articles. I did just that--you can view my articles here. I stopped after a while because I demanded too much out of my writing. Now that I check my traffic statistics, my articles are, surprisingly, generating some amount of traffic. Maybe I'll post an article now and then when I feel like it, though it's been a while since I last wrote there.

My drum technique practice has undergone a revolution. I had multiple instances of wrist pains while I practised and had to alter my technique drastically. I took drum lessons for 2 months, which helped my drumming somewhat. I stopped because it was too costly. I am currently working on my fundamental technique and using Tommy Igoe's 'Great Hands for a Lifetime' DVD as a guide for my practice routine. I now practise 45 minutes daily. I have joined NIE Youth Band to play and perform music with them. My experience with the band so far is overall positive. With my continued practice, I shall be more than ready to join either of the CCAs that I would like to join in SMU: SMU Symphonia or Samba Masala (a Brazilian Percussion group).

I also took the SAT. It was a last minute decision I made for unclear reasons. Let's just say I wanted to give myself options. I didn't prepare for the test properly and got a score of 2070, which is, though neither good nor bad, more or less of no use to me.

Life in camp is not so much the same because of shifts in the balance of power, though in general it hasn't gotten better or worse. More change is to come in the near future. Hopefully, I do not fear. At least, time has gone by and I'm almost halfway through my term. Freedom is waiting for me. I look forward to it. I long for it. Just eleven months and ten days more. It wont be long. When that day comes, I will know what it means to live life again. I have so much that I am ready to do in my life. For one, I will be sure my sons in future do not have to be bonded the way I am now. For now, I just have to wait and stay alive.

Last week I went on a trip to Hong Kong with some of my JC1 classmates: Fabian, Jonathan, Sally, Xueqi, Eloise and Elena. It was a liberating experience. I tasted what it was like to be free once again! I opened my eyes to the world around me and reminded myself what I was missing. Many times in Hong Kong I completely forgot that I was but a lowly serviceman back in camp. I felt self-empowered. I had fun. I was alive again. Moreover, I was with my long-parted friends. Though not everyone that I miss came along, being with those few friends from my JC1 class reminded me of the great times that I had in JC1. Had the school not split our class at the end of our first year, what would 08S13 of PJC have been?

Hong Kong seems like a nice place. Perhaps I should consider migrating there one day.

It is a few days from 2011. At the end of 2011 I will be free again. Whatever may come in 2011, I have to be strong and hold fast to the promise of 5th December 2011. These are what I wish to do while I can in 2011:

1) Have continued growth and learning. I will read what I can to improve myself. I will learn from others and my experiences. At the end of 2011, I shall become a better person, ready to live life to the fullest.

2) Become financially independent. I want to be able to pay for what I want. I want to be accountable for the money I spend, so that I can start learning to manage my finances.

3) Continue to grow as a Musician. I am a Musician. I do not want to just play, I want to perform. And I want to be good at it, so I will keep practising. Because music feeds my soul.

2010-09-05T11:45:00.002+08:00

Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks

Is music useless? What is so significant about music? Is it merely the production and perception of arbitrarily chosen sounds?

People who suddenly acquire a craving for music and people who fear music. People who hallucinate music and music that has a peculiar way of sticking in the mind and replaying incessantly--sometimes to the point of annoyance. People who have absolute pitch and people who are unable to distinguish pitch differences. Blind people being more musical and people who see colours when they hear music. People with chronic amnesia who can still play music and improvise and people who cannot walk but can dance to music. Through such cases, Oliver Sacks examines Music and the Brain.

If you are keen in the psychology behind music, consider reading this book.

2010-08-15T19:30:00.006+08:00

On 7th of August, last Saturday, I bought a book (in need of some percussion practice material): The Drummer's Complete Vocabulary as taught by Alan Dawson. (Alan Dawson was a mid-late 20th century Jazz Drummer.)

The first section of the book introduces a practice routine that should aid me in becoming proficient at 86 different drum rudiments. (Drum rudiments are different kinds of rhythmic patterns played with a pair of sticks.) The final objective is to play, from memory, the Rudimental Ritual created by Alan Dawson, which comprises all the 86 rudiments learnt--the rudiments are played, in the order they are introduced earlier, on the snare drum of a drumset, along with a "Bossa Nova Foot Ostinato". The score is available here: http://rudimentalritual.tripod.com/.

As of the day I bought this book, I have undertaken the journey to learn the 86 drum rudiments and the Rudimental Ritual.

For the first phase of learning all the rudiments, I shall follow the routine recommended by the book, which is to practice one lesson of three rudiments a week while revising briefly those learnt in previous lessons. I reckon this would take me 7-8 months. By March/April 2011, I should have completed this first phase.

The second phase is the learning of the Rudimental Ritual. I don't know for sure, but I'd give myself roughly 3 months more to learn, practise and memorise the Rudimental Ritual. By June/July 2011, I should be able to play the Rudimental Ritual by Alan Dawson by heart on a drumset with the Bossa Nova Foot Ostinato, though at a slower tempo. Since I do not have a drumset at home, I will need to make use of before and after practice time during Band practices on Saturdays to practice it with the Foot Ostinato. Nonetheless, I can practice the sticking on a practice pad and tap my feet at home (or, sadly, in camp) to practice.

That aside, I will also be working on Mark Wessel's Rudimental Technique: http://www.vicfirth.com/education/technique/wessels.html. I am also considering George Stone' Stick Control and Ted Reed's Syncopation.

--

DAMN IT.
I am becoming an alien to my own home.
6 months past.
1 year and 4 months more.
It's not just about what I have to go through, and how long I have to go through it.
It's also about what occurs during the time that has passed and has to pass--some of which I have pretty much no control over.

--

God is Good?
Your religion and its teachings,
inane and irrational,
are dividing
my family.
What are you going to do about it?
Sing praises?

2010-07-16T18:41:00.003+08:00

Does comparing bad with worse make bad good?

It's so scary the way time is passing like that--more so that I find myself wishing for time to hasten on.

I need to focus even though it's difficult to do whatever little to make use of my time. They don't understand. What I wish to learn and improve on are certain specific things. And best through my own ways. Who knows better than myself? Should I be punished for knowing so surely what I want in life? Rather it is the uncertain and aimless people who are glad to be told what to do. They do not feel the grief as much as myself.

I may be at the bottom of ranks in this time and place, but I care little about this time and place. Outside there: my Life awaits. One day, I will look back and be glad to be rid of it all.

--

I am a percussionist. In my strife I strive to improve. Everyday my drumsticks strike my practice pad thousands of times. By the time I'm finally free, I might have done a million strokes. Maybe right now my effort wont be recognised. But surely and slowly, I shall get better. Why do it? Enjoyment, pleasure, satisfaction--in playing music.

2010-07-03T10:03:00.003+08:00

There're two important books in my life.
For a time they were a core of my being.
I don't know why I gave them away.

Why is it I can no longer write?
I want to.
I try to.
But in the act only grief fills me.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
My words have become intolerably vulgar.
So my thoughts in disarray.

It's difficult.
I try to read, I try to learn.
I try to improve myself on those things that I used to be good at.
Just so to remind myself this life is not life.
Just so to remember that one day I'll be back where I should be.
But it's difficult.

This is the worst year of my life.
Actually, I don't believe that any year should be better or worse than another.
But this year sets itself apart from the others.
For on this stage of the play,
Am I, once an actor, now a puppet.

2010-06-20T13:45:00.003+08:00

Help! Though none could. I moan at my loss. Words are failing me. My grasp of things I used to be good in is loosening. My will to do something worthwhile in life is weakening.

Now all I seek is a place to hide myself from reality. I cheer on the wings of time, wishing they'd flap faster and end my misery. Everyday, I imagine a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. I hold on to the knowledge that on a certain day from now I would be free again. But how so very long until then! I wish to actualise my self again. I wish to be left to my own devices again.

They say when that day comes it would not mean much to me anymore. But that is only because they have, sadly, lost their desire for freedom. I will never let that happen to me. I will never be subdued into becoming someone I never wished to become.

But how distant, how far away. I hide myself somewhere safe. I wait.

2010-06-20T13:20:00.002+08:00

What is discipline?

Isn't discipline about knowing what one wants and then doing what one wants?

Should discipline be something that goes against a person's wishes rather than serve him in achieving his desires?

What is discipline?

Why waste effort on acts that are worthless?

Can one really learn discipline when he is given no choice?

-

It is foolish to be angry.
But then, this foolish anger is an anger I desire to fuel and never forget.

2010-05-07T23:12:00.004+08:00

What have I done? It's all my fault, yet it's not my fault at all. I have hurt you. I don't understand. I have hurt you. Whereas now it pains me, before I never regarded that which could hurt you. Was I careless, blind or plain cold? They say it's difficult to say "sorry". But I do so again and again--yet, how powerless it is! Powerless, helpless. I know those words couldn't make a difference. Words have failed me. Words have failed me. I'm lost for words.

When you were troubled, I tried to comfort you with words. But after a while, the words started to become reptitive and I found that they became rather insincere. I wished I could do something more than words. Impossible. If I were there by you, what would I then do? Would my presence be enough to encourage you? Would I embrace you and so support you? I could fight for you, but how does one fight an enemy that's an ocean away? I'm lost for inaction.

How much I wish I could be with you again. No, not like that time. There was no way I could've said things I really wanted to. Moreover I was still recovering from the trauma I'd gotten in those fateful nine weeks. But you and I know that it is so difficult. Having not caught up with you, I have fallen so far behind. So far apart. You know I'm not good at long-distance communication. And all the time my soul is being gnawed upon in the name of patriotism. Every day my identity, my link to the life that I knew, is slowly eroded away. You said you feared you'd lose me. I fear so as well. I'm lost.

Why?

2010-04-25T01:27:00.005+08:00

First in, last out.

What is honour and prestige at the expense of freedom and joy? What is a privilege given in lieu of a right that has been stripped? Time may tell. With time, all things change. They might become clearer; they might become more confounding. But time passes yet, so one frets and worries for the wasted years that have and would be taken away. Gone. Alas, the young eagle ready to fly is taken aside and taught to scratch holes in the ground.

They say what doesn't kill strengthens. So should the man who puts his hand over a flame become resistant to fire. So should the man who fasts eventually receive more nutrition from less food.

Longing, longing. Why? Why!

2010-04-16T18:26:00.004+08:00

I want to move on in life. I can see the things I would do--if I could. But I could not though I would. Now, my self just emerging from infancy, looking ahead with eyes sparkling, a natural glow emanating, is suddenly grabbed from beneath, into the depths of shadows. Menace is present everywhere. All I would do, my dreams, my hopes of a life worthy of myself, they seem so far away. They seem like they would go away. For why would they stay and wait for I, I being here and doing naught in the days to come? I do not fear pain for the physical sensations created. I fear pain because it changes me involuntarily. I fear losing myself.

2010-04-15T18:33:00.006+08:00

I have learned so much
I have lost so much

One moment in a shock that was no surprise; yet, stunned.
One moment distraught and lost among it all.
Am I irresponsible with my will?
Or has my psychology been altered?
Do I let my emotions overwhelm me?
Or do I feel emotions more intense than others?
reasons; excuses

a vision looked forward to certainly
dissolved by doubt in excess

right and wrong; right or wrong
pondering; aching

2010-04-10T11:14:00.005+08:00

Have you ever felt detached in the continuity of time? Then, as I was there, suffering with every step I took, I knew my suffering was soon to be over. I knew soon, and much certainly how soon, I would be free again. I knew I would get through it. The future was already set. Yet, I was there. Yet, I needed to go through that suffering. I felt I should numb myself to the pain. I felt I should just let my self, my sense of being disappear and reappear again hours later. I felt that I, my mind and soul, should cease to exist, while my body continued to go through that suffering. Why? Why? Why? Is the majority always right? Why should I go through that silliness that others have, merely because "everyone" has gone through it before? Is it I that am wrong? A mutant? Insane? What is right anymore? Why is it that what I reason to be right, to the majority is silliness? Why is it that a million people who fail to think beneath the surface are more right than one person who does not? Why is it that a million people who make a false assumption are more right than one person who does not? If everyone thinks it is so, then it really is so, isn't it? Why must I be the anomaly? Why must I differ? Yet, my deviated self seeks not to be like the rest who are contented in their normalcy. So it is that I could never conform to them. So it is that I should always be outcast as an eccentric. They as social creatures, delight in their togetherness. To them, those that oddly cannot conform are wierd. Insult, scorn, jeer. Who can blame them for their innate nature?

2010-04-10T10:58:00.002+08:00

Uncertainty.
Isn't a clearly predictable and routine life boring?
Knowing what'll happen next will roughly be the same,
knowing tomorrow won't differ much from expected.
Surely we want pleasant surprises every now and then.
Yet, how unsettling this uncertainty could be.

2010-04-03T21:17:00.000+08:00

Subtle Silence

2010-04-03T12:07:00.002+08:00

Soon comes the deciding point in my life: whether I get posted to SAF Band after BMT.

I cannot be separated from culture and civilisation much longer. I need to regain contact with the world. With the world I used to know and was continuing to explore.

To be under the command of ones less capable than myself. To be judged according to success in the trivial. To be deprived of information that I may not prepare for my future. To be restrained and prevented from doing what I wish in Life. These constitute a mental and emotional misery that people who do not know themselves and what they want would never come close to understanding.

2010-03-28T12:49:00.002+08:00

"What makes causing pain usually so wrong, then, must be something to do with the way in which it scars us in the longer run and creates fear. Perhaps this is how we should understand suffering. For example, a sharp, momentary pain in a tooth is unpleasant, but it passes and doesn't affect our lives much. But if you have such a pain regularly, you really do suffer. It is not so much that the pains add up. Rather, the repetition of the pain, the knowledge that it is to come again and the way in which each pain leaves a trace in the memory and colours tha past with its negativity: all these factors link the individual instances of pain into connected ongoing pattern which constitutes suffering."
-The Pig that Wants to be Eaten And 99 other thought experiments; Julian Baggini--26. Pain's remains

How is it that the strength of a person is determined through his ability to endure suffering? How naive. The strong can triumph because they do not need to suffer. The weak struggle and try too hard, but they are forever trapped in suffering. The strong find ways to overcome--they do not seek suffering.

If you ever bind me with chains, you'd better make sure you can do so forever. For when I am freed, you will suffer.

2010-03-05T17:42:00.003+08:00

View the original page at this link: http://bitsofwisdom.org/2009/10/21/interesting/perception/ (also at the left of this page)

Perception
Something to think about….

Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approximately. 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes:

A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.

The questions raised:

*In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

*Do we stop to appreciate it?

*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made.

How many other things are we missing?

A comment by an anonymous reader:
December 29th, 2009 at 11:26 pm
It's about desire.
Do you eat ice cream for breakfast?

No I’m not crazy, the question is topical. I eat ice cream when I want ice cream, usually as a snack after dinner. Even though it’s there in the freezer during breakfast, I boringly trudge past it and to the cupboard and make myself some cereal.

Why is that?

We appreciate things when we seek to experience them. In this study, this great performer was playing in a subway. He was offering a sweet, delicious, auditory treat. But you don’t go into the subway for that. You go into the subway to get to work. You boringly trudge past the treat and into the office.

This doesn’t show anything except that to truly enjoy something, you need to be in the right frame of mind. We are not “missing beauty around us” as people seem to imply. We simply are not looking for beauty all the time. We don’t want it. If everything were beautiful and we were exposed to it all the time, it wouldn’t be special.

View the original page at this link: http://bitsofwisdom.org/2009/10/21/interesting/perception/ (also at the left of this page)

2010-03-05T17:36:00.001+08:00

Why read fast?
Why miss it all?
Why read to read naught?

2010-02-04T19:15:00.002+08:00

One lives the bulk of his life in a few short moments of it.
Why should one lament the fleetingness of beautiful moments?

2010-02-04T18:58:00.003+08:00

A sorrow that brings no tears.
It hangs drearily,
like a perpetual fog.
Passively it remains.
It makes no move,
it merely stays.
Stays to obscure,
stays to tire.
It would not go away.
Days become dull,
thoughts become saddened.
Grasping at it,
to cast it away.
It remains untouchable,
yet felt in the bones.
Darkness, darkness.
Who would want this I have to share?

2010-02-04T09:57:00.002+08:00

There you are, there you are.
We meet again, or not?
The words come, the words go,
losing their magic as they travel.
Divorced from tone, pitch and pace,
spared from blurts, sobs and sneezes.
Facial expression no longer integral,
eye contact no longer feasible.
A silent nod, a friendly touch,
these subtle aspects of social interaction;
they are gone.
The words become forced, bold and somewhat improper,
so as to compensate for the magic they've lost.
It ought to bring you in contact,
yet it reminds that you're apart.
To remember, or forget?
To seek, or forsake?
Sometimes, memories only create illusions.

2010-02-04T09:38:00.002+08:00

In two days I will be entering National Service. Before that, I wish to write something to leave an image of my current self: my beliefs, my lifestyle and my mindset.

I believe that there can be no definitive good or bad. There is no underlying moral fabric that cannot be disputed. I believe in the individual, not in the greater good. The individual does things only because of himself - because of the potential consequences of every action on himself. I am sick of moral debates. Poverty, war, famine - I do not care. While it may be a "fact" that there are over six billion people in the world, to me, there are far fewer. The only people that exist are the ones I know and will know. To extrapolate and imagine the humanity of the others is fruitless imagination. I am self-centered. I do not see any other possible way to live. My cares and concerns are based on individual interest. Love cannot be selfless. This is my underlying philosophy. I base my life on these beliefs.

2010-01-26T13:58:00.002+08:00

Woe be to him who shrouds himself in fantasy, heedless of the actuality of reality.

But what is fantasy? What is reality?

We ought to understand that reality, as is fantasy (the meaning of it which we agree upon), is conceived within the mind. We only know the world through our eyes, we only gain insight of the world through our own mental process. The world that is factual and concrete is not the world we see or understand. What we see is a tinted refraction - that is reality (the only reality we can ever imagine of). Thus we realise that fantasy and reality might be one and the same. They are both conceptualisations within the mind, they are both angles from which we view the world, they are both our ideas of what life is. That is truth.

Now we cannot seek truth in the way we thought we could. There is no ultimate answer to life, no final solution, no definitive way to make meaning of it all. Truth cannot be sought, because it is not out there somewhere where we can travel to or reach. It is not hidden in some crevice, not among some clouds, not within a buried chest. We cannot find it because it is not anywhere at all. Truth is created. Truth is discovered. Truth occurs within us.

2010-01-17T22:51:00.000+08:00

I am a wanderer in my own home.

2010-01-08T18:45:00.002+08:00

There are too many people in the world. So many, yet so few of significance. Why must I be accountable to the numerous people that I do not know nor care about? Because there is no choice, because they are here with me. So many people that I'd never even meet, so many I'd never even know, yet they are, they influence me. Because I'd never know them, they're no longer humans; they become factors of influence. Like the sun, the moon, the stars. Like the rivers, the seas and the winds. Cold, impersonal things that exert influence on my life. Things I have to deal with. Such crudeness in perception is forgivable, for who should be expected to be a friend to all of the billions? Billions of unrecognisable faces, billions of faces that elude memory. A lifetime of effort forgets even their names. It's hard. It's mad. To go about living among them, perceiving that they're just things, not people. And to them I too am.

2010-01-08T00:55:00.004+08:00

Under glaring light,
life loses its mystique.
Cold and raw;
no, I don't need light.
I wish to shroud myself in darkness,
place layers of veils to taint the images.
No don't drag me away from my cosy cove.
No don't extract me from my cave of mirrors.
Take me back, take me back!
Why am I drifting away?
Shattered eyes, soul agape.
To where I go I do not know.
Why! I thought I could be strong alone;
whatever may come, I'd overcome.
But I overwhelm myself,
deeds diminished in the shadow of ambition.
Quickly, all too quickly,
I find myself no longer myself;
a whirlpool of thoughts and memories.

2009-12-28T21:44:00.004+08:00

After drawing out my own calender of this month of December and marking out the days I've been doing this and that, I realise I've had only 6 days free until yesterday.

An account of this and that since the end of 'A' levels:

30th Nov (Mon) - End of 'A' levels. 08S13 Class Outing: Dinner at Lot 1 and trip to Night Safari
1st Dec - Band Practice in the morning
2nd Dec - Band Practice in the morning
3rd Dec - Band Practice in the morning
4th Dec - Band Practice in the morning, Band farewell slumber party in the late afternoon
5th Dec - Sleepover at Sherry's place with others
6th Dec - KL Band Exchange Trip
7th Dec (Mon) - KL Band Exchange Trip
8th Dec - KL Band Exchange Trip
9th Dec - KL Band Exchange Trip; returned by afternoon
10th Dec - Free (Post Exchange fatigue)
11th Dec - Free
12th Dec - Free
13th Dec - Diarrhea early in the morning at 4am (This was seriously fucked up. I went to toilet an uncountable number of times, visited a 24hr clinic with a lousy doctor, reached home in time to vomit with my head spinning, then slept for a mere 3 hours before waking up feeling crappy and shitting again and again. Unable to sleep at all and groaning like an animal, I had to do something to get my mind off the discomfort, without doing something mentally or physically draining. What did I do? I watched 6 episodes of Korean Drama in a day.)
14th Dec (Mon) - Still a little sick, but better; went to Kinokuniya with my sister
15th Dec - LAN gaming at Clementi (Left 4 Dead 2)
16th Dec - To Queensway Shopping, then LAN gaming at Clementi again (Left 4 Dead 2)
17th Dec - Free
18th Dec - Free
19th Dec - Free
20th Dec - BandFest Concert starting in mid-afternoon
21st Dec (Mon) - 2/5 Chalet
22nd Dec - 2/5 Chalet
23rd Dec - 2/5 Chalet
24th Dec - Free (Post Chalet fatigue)
25th Dec - Christmas dinner with relatives
26th Dec - Sleepover at Aaron's place with others
27th Dec - Sleepover at Aaron's place with others

There actually was a period from 10th to 19th when I would've been free to set myself on a nice routine. But I got distracted. I fell sick - both my body and my mind. Something happened. Maybe it was nothing, but being on the verge of falling sick I guess my mind made it into something and I was lost. This thing about emotions. Messed up. So I couldn't bear just staying at home and doing my own things. My will was breaking. As soon as I partially recovered, I wanted to go out. I wanted to play something, anything.

Maybe I was too ambitious to want to do so much in so little time. Well, I can't deny I have learned some things too. I have improved myself. Learned from my sick period. Learned to write better along with reading a quarter of the thick book published by Reader's Digest - How to Write and Speak Better. I've read one chapter (introductory one) of H2 Economics. But there's so much more, and I only have one month left. Maybe I should prioritise.

As for fitness training, it's much easier. It doesn't actually take that much discipline, as compared to reading and learning things. Although I've not exercised as much as I've liked, I've been doing chin-ups daily thanks to the chin-up bar I recently got at home. Chin-ups has been my worst enemy apart from sit-and-reach. Well, glad to say, I can do 6 proper chin-ups at one go now, compared to none at the start of the year. I expect to train untill I can do at least 11 at one go. When my routine was on, and even during the KL Band Exchange Trip, I do my 60-60-60 combo daily: 60 push-ups, 60 sit-ups, 60 squats, that is. (It used to be 50-50-50 but I increased it.) I resumed it today once again. I couldn't last week because of chalet and sleepover. Also, I've run 5km 4 times untill now, and I ran 10km today. (I doubled it because I felt 5km wasn't enough training.) I run from the Esso Petrol Station near my home to and along Bukit Batok Road, then turn right into the Park Connector along the new road linking Bukit Batok Road to Sunshine Place, past Sunshine place with a right turn to run by the Keat Hong army camp (which looks abandoned) and with another right turn back to where I start. That's a 5km round. I ran 2 rounds today. I was thinking of carrying a bag holding filled water bottles to run but I suppose it'd look a little awkward because my bagpacks are all brightly coloured. One red, one orange. I have to be stronger. It is why I train.

2009-12-27T18:39:00.003+08:00

I have to write again.

My sense of time has been disrupted by the events this week, with a stay at a chalet and a sleepover. I have not had time to follow any proper daily routine this entire week. The past two weeks were similarly disrupted too. It's somewhat annoying to see time pass so quickly and realise that there's so much left undone. Annoying because it makes me feel like I've accomplished so little in so much time. I need to focus.

2009-12-19T20:51:00.005+08:00

Why should I improve my Chinese?

Proficiency in a particular language is a skill. Like all skills, learning and improving a particular language involves costs and benefits. Costs include time, effort and money expended, while the main benefits of learning a particular language comes with the usage of it - the frequency, efficiency and depth of usage. Other less tangible benefits include sense of pride, identity and well-being.

Why Chinese (Mandarin) then? Because it is important, and as a result the benefits to be gained outweigh the costs. First, I shall examine the importance in the ability to use Chinese proficiently, from the standpoint of myself, a Singaporean Chinese. After which, I would take these very benefits and do a cost-gain analysis to demonstrate the practicality of improving Chinese.

When judging whether a particular language is important, I must first note its relevance to my circumstances. In Singapore, Chinese (Mandarin) is arguably a predominant language used in casual talk between Chinese. Although the primary language is English, and conversation between different races takes place in English or the infamous Singlish, given that a large proportion of the population is Chinese including myself, I encounter the need to speak Chinese frequently. It is thus relevant to me, and being proficient at it would allow me to communicate in my daily life more effectively. It is of importance to me.

Some may then argue that since a majority of the population speaks English, I should still be able to communicate with other Chinese in English. I do not disagree, but speaking English as an alternative is limited. Firstly, there remains a significant number of people, especially the elderly, who speak only Chinese. Conversing with them in English will not do. Also, speaking in English may sometimes, even though not justifiably so, give others the impression of over-formality or arrogance. Though being the primary language, English in Singapore still has an elite feel to it. English was a foreign language introduced into Singapore, and reinforced through the education system. Most Singaporeans (the older generation) learned English in schools, not through their parents. The comfortable language, for them, to use in everyday casual speech is their mother tongue - for Chinese, Chinese (Mandarin mostly, not forgetting dialects). Even now, after many years, English still does not quite fit right in casual speech. Singlish testifies. (Singlish contains much of mother tongue languages.)

Furthermore, there is my personal sense of pride, identity and well-being. To me, I ought to be ashamed to speak and write Chinese poorly. Race is inexorably binded to language. It is "normal" for a Chinese to speak Chinese. Chinese is most effectively used by Chinese. When in a society of Chinese, a Chinese-speaking Chinese blends in, just as a Russian-speaking Russian in a Russian society or a Japanese-speaking Japanese in a Japanese society. There's just this certain self-inclusiveness of Racial-Language culture that allows for optimal social interaction. This self-inclusiveness could perhaps be a contributing factor to non-tolerance between races, or racism. As a Chinese, the social benefits of improving my Chinese, as compared to, say, Japanese, are far greater. It is more comfortable for me, as a Chinese to speak Chinese in a Chinese society, than to speak Japanese in a Japanese society.

Besides speech, being proficient in Chinese is important because it makes available a huge volume of literature to me. I am an avid reader. What attracts me most about Chinese literature (as in writing of all sorts) is the cultural origin and influence. Chinese literature is largely influenced by Chinese culture, which is clearly much different from Western culture. It is only in the last century, with adequate advancement in navigation and transport technology, that Western and Chinese culture began to exert greater influence on each other. Long before, culture in Europe had already inter-mingled, with literature translated from one language to another, and Europeans learning multiple European languages. To me, English is sufficient enough, even though not entirely, in allowing me to understand European literature through their English translations. But Chinese literature is greatly different. For one, characters rather than alphabets are used. The characters themselves signify their meaning, more than their pronunciation. Translation from Chinese to English seems too inadequate for me, which is why I need to be proficient at Chinese to read Chinese literature.

Now to the costs of improving my Chinese. In my position, the costs of improving Chinese are minimal for various reasons. Already, I have a head start thanks to the compulsory mother tongue syllabus since Primary level (and also in Kindergarten). With this I can easily pick up the language and improve it further however weak I currently am, what with the added stimulus of being able to practice it on a daily basis both at home and out. These two boosts to my improvement of my Chinese may seem trivial, but they greatly reduce the costs of it - do not take them for granted. This point is easily illustrated when comparing to learning some other language, say, Japanese. Having completely no knowledge of Japanese, attempting to learn it, and to improve it to a level proficient enough for even simple conversation, is going to be a great costs. A lot of time, effort and money will be required, and the benefits that result from learning it are arguably lesser than that of Chinese: my justification above.

So given that the potential benefits of improving my Chinese are great and the costs are minimal, I can then rationally conclude that it is worth improving my Chinese.

2009-12-18T20:28:00.004+08:00

National Service

I will be due for National Service (NS) in a little more than one and a half months time. My Physical Employment Standard is PES B L1 (Fit for most operational vocations; Full BMT) despite my condition, Atopic Ezcema. But I guess it should be alright since the condition is improving with my taking of Traditional Chinese Medicine.

I am under no illusion that NS is going to be easy, especially the Basic Military Training (BMT). I have the impression that the running of things in NS is screwed up, given what I've heard from others and my observations during the Medical Checkup and Medical Review. I don't expect them to care about my welfare in NS. I don't expect them to even uphold justice by fair treatment of all individuals. I expect them to give me shit. I expect them to be prejudiced against me. That is why I must be strong, at least stronger than most others. I must easily handle physical tasks that others struggle with. The sanctuary of my mind shall remain intact as others falter and breakdown mentally. My mind would be sharp that I may learn quicker, what with the head start that I have from what I already learnt in National Cadet Corps (NCC). Might is Right. I will give them no chance to mess with me.

2009-12-17T20:39:00.004+08:00

What is progress? What is growth? How do we know that Life is getting better? How to we know that the life of Man is improving? What is good anyway?

Should better be defined as increased strength and capability? A person is better off being able to do 12 chin-ups compared to none. A person is better off earning $10K a month compared to $2K a month with the same effort and time expended. Man is better off dominating all other living organisms on Earth. Man is better off if he were to gain the capability, via technology and social organisation, to survive crises otherwise obliterating. Stronger, stronger, stronger. But what does this lead to? A whole volume of individuals venturing into the unknown to conquer... what? To become stronger and stronger. For what reason? None other than itself. To become stronger because they have to become stronger, because it is what they do. Because Life to them is about survival and the stronger survive better.

Or, should better be defined as increased standards of morality? People should be more able to make humane decisions. Why? Because they are human? What is so pure and holy about Man himself that he should seek morality? What is good, and what is bad? How do we know? Is killing a fellow human bad? What if we do it only to ensure the survival of the rest of humanity? Is it still bad? Why is killing even bad in the first place if not for the fact that the usual instance of killing may deny the world a useful pair of hands and a thinking mind? What if the world were such that surplus weak should perish and not consume limited resources in order that the strong might live on and triumph in the name of humanity? What is the meaning of this word "humanity" anymore? Is it the cold raw strength in survival?

Why do we struggle, why do we try? Because we have to? Because we want to? Because we "feel" the "need" to? Yes! But no! It cannot be! But it is, isn't it? Because we have to want to feel the need to so we do what we're meant to. With this I forgive all absurd and irrational beliefs in divine beings and divine purposes.

So then, we turn to happiness. But do we find it? Or does it even exist at all? In this life, is it important to be happy? Why? Because it is our one and only life that we should be happy as much as possible? Why does it matter? Two people, born on the same day, dead on the same day. The first lived a happy life. The second lived a miserable life. But what do you see? What do I see? I see two dead corpses, lying side by side. Maybe on the first there's a smile, on the second a frown. But they're dead. Dead people feel nothing. Dead people are dust. To associate the familiar figures with they who were once alive is only self-deception. Ah, but that is not the way to look at it. It is too pessimistic. Why be so pessimistic? Being a fool, being stupid, being irrational is better. As long as I can be happy, yes?

2009-12-15T00:02:00.003+08:00

I am scaring myself. If I don't control myself I might, anytime in the next few hours, do something awfully stupid. I need to keep myself occupied. So I'm here writing. Uneasy. In my mind I was already forming an outline of what I was going to do. No, no. Ridiculous. I cannot lie on my bed; I would not have clear judgement in bed. Just like that night. I don't even know the difference between courage and foolishness anymore. Why is it so powerful? Absurdly powerful! It divides me. It turns my heart against my will. It fluctuates the strength of my body. I don't know which voice is from my heart, which from my will and which from my body, if there even is any difference between them. Because I cannot differentiate, I cannot choose. I cannot rationalise. I cannot think properly! Has emotion taken over my reason? Or has reason taken over my emotions? Or has some crazy chemicals been generated within my body to influence the two? Youth! Adolescence! Should I cherish this ridiculous phase of my life? How am I expected to control myself? I am very laughable. I forgive myself because I am still young. Then, how old is old enough?

2009-12-14T19:55:00.005+08:00

Just move on.
At least I did try.
Many times I wished to give up,
but a part of me couldn't be pacified.
Well, so I did what I did knowing it was silly -
silly in both the act and the method
(there and then, what choice did I have?),
but surely my intent wasn't silly.
Sure enough, things turned out
unlike what I'd expected.
You know, hopes and all.
You wonder if those are but fantasy.
Quite a shock, though not surprising.
Your judgement anyway.

2009-12-11T21:18:00.005+08:00

Why do I write?

I write to improve the act of writing itself, as well as the language in which I do - English. It may seem that writing is simple. Of course, it is not. Even now as I write I do so cautiously, with my mind focused on translating my intent into the most appropriate words in the most appropriate arrangement and format. In the past, much of my writing aggregated into large chunky paragraphs, and I paid little attention to format and clarity. I merely conveyed my ideas as accurately as possible in words, without bothering to make my writing friendly to read. I thought that it didn't matter if people couldn't care to read. To me, then, my writing was "reserved" for those who would have taken the extra effort to unravel and comprehend my writing. I realise I wasn't exactly right. Ideas with substance do not always have to be difficult to comprehend.

I write to reinforce my self-learning. Everyday I learn things, be it through reading, training, playing, dreaming or socialising. Through writing about the things I have learnt and the ideas that present themselves to me, I can better understand them. By forcing myself to explain, I can pick out logical lapses or ambiguity in my thinking so that I can refine it further. I write so that what I learn becomes a part of me. A part of me that I can invoke and command at will to my purpose. Like a sword perfectly balanced in weight that it becomes one with the arm. Shifting, parrying, striking.

I write because it feels good. I derive satisfaction from carefully choosing and positioning words to express myself. Writing is an art that involves both creativity and logic: I love it. Writing, Language, English. I do not know which exactly, perhaps all, but I know I have a love for this thing I do. Why then would I so ardently write time and again, and take the effort to improve it? Everything is about Language. Life is about Language. Every act, every idea, every story, every emotion; they are all communicable only through Language. I write because I want to.

2009-12-10T19:32:00.005+08:00

I imagine there to be many who are or feel aimless after the end of the 'A' level examinations. Not myself.

A month before the start of my examinations, I was afraid. I was afraid because I was not prepared. I was afraid because my entire future could possibly be ruined due to my actions, or rather inaction, throughout the past two years. It was not because I was weak or incapable. But because the flame within me - my pride - was diminished in the shadow of the looming examinations. The shadow that oppressed me only because I had complacently allowed it.

Nevertheless, my complacent past was not wasted. Through it I had learned much, I had changed much. I wasn't a muddle-headed fool anymore. I awoke at the eleventh hour.

Time was my enemy. Every moment I spent idling I cursed. Every minute I had to waste disgusted me. I was a madman. It was a pathetic state, but a necessary one. And so, I told myself, never again would I be reduced to such.

Now that I am free, I have not forgotten. I am improving myself: Speech and Writing; Strength and Stamina; Willpower and Intellect; Economics, History, Philosophy; IT Skills. Why should learning be restricted to school curriculum? Learn to learn.

Not that I do these at the expense of leisure. I work towards a balanced life: activities that compose the mind and lift the spirit, with adequate sleep and rest. Fun and laughter too shall find their place. Now let me depart from my writing to my doing.

2009-12-05T14:43:00.006+08:00

Thinking too much, yet I have not forgotten to think simply. While thinking differently from others, sometimes I have to think like others. A mindset common to many is not necessarily a naive one.

Let me digress for a moment. In my writing, I have been avoiding examples. I have been trying to convey ideas generally, segregated from the life that conjures those ideas - that is, my life. Perhaps it is because I do not want my blog to be like others. I do not wish to rant about the day to day occurrences that are of no interest to the reader. Or maybe I am afraid to even mention my life because then, inevitably, those around me would be involved in my writing implicitly. For once, I shall dare to dare.

I wouldn't have considered myself one to watch serial dramas a while ago (I refer to those along the lines of Chinese, Korean, Japanese TV series). But a few days ago, I started watching a Korean drama (online) recommended by a dear friend.

Initially I thought I would be watching something rather ridiculous, since I somehow had an impression that those of that sort are draggy and naive. Perhaps I'd watched too much of those shown in Singapore when I was younger. Or, because I was younger. But I actually liked it. At the very least, the one I'm watching now is entertaining. The exaggerated behaviour of the characters and the dramatic development of the storyline made me laugh many times over.

However, the way I am disturbs me sometimes. It is unavoidable that little depth in storyline or character development comes with popular drama catered to the masses. Not that the development is poor - the story flows fluently and the characterisation is apt. But the lack of reality or "realness" in the story or characters distracts me sometimes. Is it the way reality is? Perhaps it's because of my pessimistic-leaning mindset. I am skeptical of goodness, of happiness, of love. I believe in strength, excellence and mortality.

I wonder if the way I am would do me any "good". I only have one life, why live it like a dead man? I doubt pure reason can sustain my struggle in life. It is fruitless. Perhaps feelings trump reason. Perhaps the heart has a reason that we cannot understand. But so fickle a thing, am I expected to rely on? Wait. It doesn't matter. I may not need to think about it at all. I could blindfold myself and walk into the unknown. I do not know fear.

I know the drama is not meant to be a lesson on ethics or life, nor some writer's masterpiece. But given the way I am, and the things I read, it can't be helped. The thoughts that go through my mind do not prevent me from enjoying the drama though. They just serve as a constant reminder that whatever I watch does not depict reality.

[Yet, it is possible that within fantasy there are fragments of reality.]

2009-12-05T14:04:00.003+08:00

Fantasy: fanciful imaginations; so be it, but beautiful nonetheless.
Reality: life itself - some flux of events; alone uneventful, perceived inexplicable.
A bridge between them?

2009-11-30T16:12:00.006+08:00

Give me all the freedom in the world,
and you'd rob me of my power to choose.
Why do I feel despair while others rejoice?

This world, this life; it has no truth.
I see the deceived are happily so,
while I, struggling for truth, none the better.

They say youth is the prime of life, the golden age.
But foolishness for inexperience frustrates me.
Yet I wish not for time to fly faster, only that I do not falter.

Affliction.

2009-11-23T21:00:00.004+08:00

So. What am I supposed to do? Am I to ramble here? As though it would be of any significance. But it appears that I would end up doing just that. Am I supposed to surprise you with something? Make you feel that I'm special? Who is special? Special is a weird term to use. We call someone "special" because he's different and unique from the rest. Not quite much like the rest. But then again, how is this "difference" and "uniqueness" quantified? Are there fixed criterion and certain attributes to look out for to consider one to be special? One, upon close examination, would realise that there isn't any difference between the difference between any two people and that between any other two people. That is, everybody, is different from every other, to the same extent. Similarity is due to biased vision - amplifying certain aspects and diminishing others. All there really is, is a whole volume of unique, non-superimposable, individuals. Did I just type that? I didn't intend to do it at first. When I started my mind was... not blank, but filled with else. You know there's just something weird about writing (or typing). Do I speak like this? I wouldn't think so. But hey, I think I know why. While in speaking, words are formed at the same rate at which they are heard simultaneously, in writing, words are formed at any rate independent of that of reading, and wholly completed before it. So right now, as I type, you are not seeing these words I have formed. They are mine, and mine alone, until I wish them to be viewable. I have the pleasure and luxury of time, to ponder and think, to edit and organise. Well, I really don't know what this post really is supposed to be about anymore. There's this thing that I don't understand. Why is it that sometimes someone wishes to tell another something so eagerly, one would write somewhere where what one writes may be seen by the other, rather than to give a direct message? What is this queer social behaviour of the human? Perhaps we want to be lucky or something. We want "special" things to happen. We want fate to appease us. But fate is not ours to command. Does that actually make sense? I guess so. I can't be bothered to try to clarify that odd explanation I have given. Oh no. Should I stop now? I know that if I continue this might go on for very very long. Well, it depends on what I intend this post to be about. But I haven't intended this post to be about anything in particular yet. There is something amusingly gratifying about a probabilistic freedom of expression. You know, this thing about blogging. When you post you feel good, even before anyone reads what you have posted. However, there is always a possibility that no one would ever read what you post, and a possibility that hundreds of people would read what you post. No, not here. This is not what communication is about. Communication is about certainty and mutuality.

2009-11-21T20:32:00.002+08:00

"Fiction" does not mean "something that is not real or true" but a kind of truth and a kind of reality most fully potrayed by the associated story.

2009-11-18T21:36:00.006+08:00

Are dreams really supposed to have some meaning?

You think you don't dream? You're wrong. Once you realise that you dream every time you sleep, and that you usually forget your dreams when you awake, and make an effort to remember them, you are entering a whole new bizarre world. At least that's what it is to me. Once you start writing down your dreams somehow, and extend the memory of your dreams beyond that hazy brief period after awaking, you can't stop remembering them. Each time you make an effort to remember a dream, you add some amount to your capacity to remember dreams. And soon you keep remembering dreams you are amused.

Imagine this, you're asleep early in the wee hours of the morning, and a bird calls out incessantly in a whistling manner. And in your dreams you conceive some annoying fat bitch whistling. Then your alarm rings, and when you awake you are intrigued to find that reality entered your dreams. You can still picture that image of the fat bitch whistling. You chuckle. You are so amazed by your dream that you note it down. Then, suddenly, for some reason the rest of your dream preceding that image floods you. You remember that in your dream you were late for an important event because you woke up late, but you're never a late person. You remember somehow reading the lengths of hollow depressions in souvenir boxes as musical scores. In your dream you correlate getting A's with smacking bees. You conceive some vampire god that approaches a girl to demand a pledge of loyalty. You imagine that some large rock statue in your house, though there isn't one, makes noise and awakes an annoying guardian, that happens to be a mix between a frog and an old man. Then you look down the list of notes of your past dreams. Once you dreamt of flimsy lockers in your ex-school building. You asked questions during a lesson and was ignored, and you cursed angrily in class. You apologise but are reported to the principal. And in the principal's office, a few students from another school gather around you and demand for your hair. They start shaving you and it feels good. Then you look in the mirror and realise your hair is messed up, but how could shaven hair be messy? Another teacher ignores you. A friend says: "Don't care, life is unfair.". Then in another dream you were hugging someone. And you had a checklist of who you have hugged and have not, even though in reality you don't actually hug people on a regular basis. And you dream about the inverse square law. Hamsters in disarray. Old and new uniforms. Walking and chatting with a girl you don't really know. Then in another dream: you're eating breakfast with someone on a cold morning. Then you somehow arrive at a "free" restaurant. You adjust your belt. Just when you look back up an unseen force whacks you. You are getting thrashed by some gangsters. Then suddenly you're out of the picture and you envision Elvis Presley in a fighting movie, but as a cartoon. And you're teleported yet again into a place where a group of girls of kindergarten age awake at the same time and one of them says something stupid. It goes something like this: "Never believe what others say." Then they start sharing secrets with each other. An example of a secret goes like this: "What is a locker?" One of them wants revenge! (For what?) And you find yourself tunneling through... a tunnel. You emerge at the end and are thrust into a horror movie. Skeletons are sneaking around. The movie is encased within a box-like screen. A screen within a box or something. There is a dim lamp at the side which can be turned on or off, or it flickers on and off. Then your view zooms out and you see rows and rows of fishtanks. In some of them, you see tiny dinosaurs spawning. And they are growing quickly into adult carnivores, soon to escape from that low barrier that separates them from you. And there is a problematic frog; you send a short message via mobile phone to ask someone how to solve it. Someone else interferes in your affair. That person starts nagging at you incessantly. You try to speak but you cannot vocalise the words you will. You feel helpless, you have to reposition yourself. And the built-up tension releases abruptly with an awkward call for help - in the real world. You're awake, you feel stupid for shouting "Help!" in the middle of the night. It's a little past midnight. You drink a glass of water and return to sleep. What the hell, you have another dream soonafter. In your next dream, you tell someone about your previous dream. Someone else chides you for the stupidity of your dream. You retort. You dream about a chinese journal in which you have to write about an uncle. But it's in English? You interrupt some meeting/gathering and a while after you join it you realise some familiar people... and an ex-crush. In another dream, someone you knew split into two separate personalities. Not just two personalities, but two separate people. And each seemed to be the same person until then you realise otherwise. In yet another dream, there is a russian church made of bread. It is, amazingly, built somewhere in the middle of a field between your house and the neighbourhood market. It is so small, it's like a double-decker bed! Then again, in some other dream, someone who has dropped out of school returns back to study and take the examinations. He is teased by the teacher, whom you don't exactly like. A chinese magazine cartoon with old-chinese-new-chinese writing defects? After school you rush to the library with another friend. But upon reaching there you are dismayed to realise that there are a bunch of Chinese Chinese talking noisily. In some other dream, you go to attend a gathering. On the way, in a toilet, in a bin, you see a bee-like wasp. Then outside the toilet, behind a shed, under a cart, you see rotting crap. You proceed to a familiar place that you visit periodically. It has changed. Only one person says "Hi" to you. Why is there a piano outdoors and left open? Some stranger is playing it. In one other dream, after studying at the library, you are going to be fetched to have dinner. But for some reason you return home before you are fetched. Then there's a water slide in your neighbourhood. Not really a waterslide, but a slide. Like sliding down a hill, a slope, sliding down anything really, but it's about sliding. You walk along a route home that feels familiar, but in reality you've seen nothing close to that sort. Cars move towards you and pass by you on the near right. (But in local roads, cars drive on the left) A movie review dinning session. A screen and a speaker. At your table, some guys are staring at you. Again, another dream. Keeping kittens in fishtanks. Visiting someone with an excuse pertaining to a sock and a shoe? In an auditorium you're watching something. A friend asks you to sit behind with...

2009-11-16T17:07:00.005+08:00

What's the hold up?

All evidence and observations carefully examined and reasoned lead one to believe that there is no such thing as a true goodness that is selfless and wholly altruistic. There is no such thing as Love in the very sense of the word that so many believe it to be - it is only an illusion. Every person is essentially self-centered. Yet, one desires to be deluded, to forsake reason and seek that which one does not believe to exist. One esteems that which one scorns and denounces. And when one cannot find what one searches for, one conjures it.

2009-11-13T20:40:00.002+08:00

The Argument of the Sperm

Assertion: Each person is a survivor and the fittest of millions of sperms. Therefore everyone is strong.

Refutation: Being the strongest of the weak doesn't mean one is strong.

2009-11-12T18:54:00.004+08:00

Hatred and Hostility are easily justified, unlike Friendship.

The haphazard manner in which a process is initiated casts doubt upon the significance of its being.

2009-11-07T18:01:00.002+08:00

It takes two hands to clap.

Everyone has two hands. If you're going to use only one hand when you have two, and trouble yourself finding someone else who does the same, that's your choice. I can easily clap my two hands.

2009-11-03T19:55:00.004+08:00

Success

The fact that people place much emphasis on "success in life" when they do not even know what that term means is rather amusing. They think "success in life" is important but they don't know what exactly it means. They ask if "success in life" would bring happiness but never doubt if such a thing even exists. Well, they wouldn't need to be so frustrated with this elusive"success in life" if they would just take a moment to examine that ridiculous term itself.

Success is not a state of being, success is an event. When an archer fires an arrow at a target and his goal is to hit bull's eye, and he does hit it, then we say his attempt is successful. The event of success occurs. There is a goal which defines success and the alternate failure, there is the attempt at the goal, and there is the outcome which is either success or failure based on whether the attempt fulfills the goal.

Now if we try to, with this understanding of success, interpret the term "success in life", we realise how absurd it really is. How do we define the ultimate goal of life? Then what is one to do if he fails or succeeds? Is it of any significance? Is one to despair in the event of failure or feel an intense sense of self satisfaction in the event of success? Is not the rest of his life after the moment he achieves "success in life" part of his life too? What if he messes up the rest of his life? Would he still be considered to be successful in life? Or do we wait until a person is dead and then we judge his life as a whole and label his life as a success or failure? By then would it even matter to the dead anymore? Outright ridiculous.

Furthermore, this entire concept of "success in life" is based on the assumption that there is some ultimate purpose in life such that the fulfillment of it would be success. But whether there is such a "mission" in life is impossible to know. Acknowledging that there is such an ultimate purpose in life that one cannot determine on his own only robs the individual of his power of choice, causing him to be forever fated to seek to fulfill his purpose only because it is his purpose.

Why do people seek to define some sort of "success in life" for them to work towards? Because they think that achieving success will make them happy. But that is only an illusion. The frustration of continually reaching for that "success" at the expense of the finer things in life and the final emptiness or despair upon attaining or failing to attain that "success" - these far from describe happiness. Do not be deluded by images of smiling athletes, businessmen, politicians or even altruistic individuals. If happiness were merely the ability to smile, then that is not a happiness to seek.

2009-11-01T20:36:00.004+08:00

God. You're always there. I cannot live my life without a constant reminder of your existence. That is precisely the problem.

When I say God, I do not refer to some omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent being. I refer to the collective notion of God that exists in the minds of a large proportion of the world's population, and the concept that is protrayed by the holy book, clergymen and believers. God to me is an idea, God is not a being. God only exists because of faith. Sheer faith sustains the existence of God. Every single believer's notion of it, and every single text that can bring forth within one that idea of it; the sum of it all is God.

God transforms people. Into what? God transforms Man to be more like God. And what is God? Holy, pure, perfect, and well, Love. But is this form of Love really a good thing at all? What a queer form of Love. To live is to be more like God. God is Love. Therefore to Love is to be like God, and one should Love. And how does one Love? By helping others too to become like God. But what if others don't want to be like God? God in its purest essence transmogrifies one, robbing him of his personality and life. God invades every single aspect of one's life, casting unrelenting scorching light on every nook and cranny, jarring judgement and discarding discernment. And the end product is one that is no longer human anymore.

Each and every one - only one life to live. A pity to spend it trying to be God.

Is it because the weak need faith? Or the weak are weak because they have faith?

I thought perhaps there was some good in God. Perhaps I'm wrong. Or maybe Man is so hopeless he always sustains that which ultimately divides and conquers himself.

2009-10-30T19:33:00.005+08:00

Man is an intelligent being? Bullshit.

2009-10-26T21:22:00.003+08:00

the beats they thump
subdivided they flutter
harmonised dissonance
cries of the multitude
driving blood crazy
electrified set in motion

What is it like to stand at the center of attention of a large mass of people? What is it like to hear them screaming your name repeatedly? What is it like to lift your arms into the air and receive a thunderous cheer in response?

rows of cheap novels make me sick
sometimes you just get tired of sieving through shallow fiction

2009-10-23T22:00:00.005+08:00

Who I thought one to be is actually two. All along I thought the two of them were the same person, they were so alike. But now it makes so much more sense, how could I have mistaken? One is four years younger than me, the other is two years older than me. The younger was always nice to me. The older was mean. No, they were two different persons all along. Somewhere back in time, I did not realise, one added upon one but I took two for one.

She speaks incessantly. Why has she got to interfere with my affairs? She doesn't stop. I am trying to stop her but speech does not come to me. I know exactly what I want to say, but I can't! I will the words desperately. Why am I not able to control myself? What's going on? I want to scream for help. And the built up pressure suddenly stuns me with the vocalisation of an awkward shout for help.

I know this is what the fuck, but one night I was dreaming about the inverse square law. When I woke up I was confounded by that ridiculous notion but I had an absolute certainty I was dreaming about it. I have no idea what it is like dreaming about the inverse square law, but I know I did.

2009-10-23T20:55:00.003+08:00

being a being
witness of humankind
streaks of negative illumination
emanate from them
invokes the scorn within
venom courses through the veins
it is a curse for a man to hate Man

up in the clouds the gods laugh verily
playing their little game their daily sport
injecting consciousness into mounds of dust
making important the trivial
they stretch nothingness into extremes of good and bad
they divide the unmoving sending the parts in opposite directions
perhaps they never get bored
as day by day the continuance of their little game
grows ever more absurd
and they just keep laughing

2009-10-22T23:22:00.006+08:00

"It all depends on what you mean by the word 'is'".
Ridiculous? Perhaps not.

two plus two is four.
Is four two plus two? Yes.

a boy is a child.
Is a child a boy? Maybe.

george is hungry.
Is hungry george? No.

-

Is identity bounded to material? One points at a poster of Michael Jackson and says "that is Michael Jackson". But obviously that poster, that sheet of material portraying shades and shapes, is not Michael Jackson. Yet we say that statement is true. Why? Because when one points at the poster of Michael Jackson, he is referring to the concept of "Michael Jackson" which the poster represents to a relatively large degree, in this case his appearance. But if one were to think of "Michael Jackson" as not his outward image but solely his music then one could not point to a poster of Michael Jackson and say the same statement truthfully. This leads one to realise that the concept of "Michael Jackson" is different to different people. Different people use the same name for different concepts. When two people with different concepts of "Michael Jackson" engage in a debate on whether "Michael Jackson sucks" they are each referring to a different concept and could never come to a common understanding.

But if the identity "Michael Jackson" were bounded to the material, the very person himself, there would be a problem. If one were to dig up Michael Jackson's dead body, (just to say, who knows he may have been cremated I don't care) point at it and say "that is Michael Jackson", it would be pretty ridiculous wouldn't it? One could point at any other dead body and say the same thing and it wouldn't matter, because it really is just pointing at a dead body. What is a dead body? It holds no significance. After years of rot and decay the body exists no more. Then one points at dust and says "that is Michael Jackson".

2009-10-18T18:13:00.003+08:00

for once there be a flicker of light,
in the obstinate void of eternity;
affected be manifest,
soul abstruse.

-

Everytime I think
I've got my life straightened out
I'm once again
shocked by my ignorance

Life is full of surprises.
It never ceases to disappoint me.
To live like this
What A Comedy

Am I immature,
Or Are They?
Who's the real fool?

What's the point of being intelligent anyway?

Is the Human really a social creature that could live not alone?

I guess I can't trust anyone.

2009-10-16T20:11:00.002+08:00

Nice isn't too nice a word. What exactly does nice mean? Nice is so general it could imply so many different meanings. So why is the word nice even used? Is it because of a lack of vocabulary? Or perhaps, the word nice, for its generally general generality, is irreplaceable. Maybe nice is used with the intent of ambiguity so as to hide actual opinion behind a layer of fog. What if nice is a word that doesn't mean anything? Maybe all the meaning there is to the word nice is embodied within the tone of the speaker and his present emotion. Just like fuck. A word as a medium to channel emotion without stating anything. Like a groan, a moan, a whimper, a laugh, a gasp. Or maybe it's just nice.

2009-10-16T19:47:00.003+08:00

A magnifying glass, a seeing glass, a pair of glasses.

-

Based on the premise that each and every one would not believe the words of another, it is decided that secrets can be safely shared without revealing anything.

2009-10-12T21:49:00.002+08:00

No longer an idealistic state. Foresight and pragmatism have liberated like democracy emancipating the individual. Once blinded by the future, now knowledge of the process frees the soul. The seductive, addictive orthodox has been cast away. Life is no longer a dream. Dreams have become alive.

2009-10-10T07:50:00.006+08:00

Boys should not be expected to be as gentlemen. They are boys, after all, and not men. And why should any man affect this absurd form of behaviour anyway? Does it not further reaffirm the natural inequality between males and females? That the male, being superior, should humble himself, and the female accept inferiority by recognising that she should be treated "gently" as in the sense of the word gentleman? What condescending behaviour by the gentleman!

-

Turning and flipping,
in abrupt movements,
as though seriously disturbed,
as though greatly anxious.
The mind wandered,
like a hummingbird,
hovering and lingering,
then quickly flirting elsewhere.
A single thought,
could trigger a reaction.
A single source,
of exponential growth of emotion.
A flux of thoughts flows,
strange sensations overflow.
They originated somewhere within,
not the heart to the left of the chest,
not the heart that beats so readily.
It was somewhere in the center of the whole.
It was not located in space,
but positioned in the soul.
It was not within the body,
yet it was part of the body.
When these sensations arise,
one realises though he's been alive
for many a year since birth,
he's never been, more alive.

How could it be?
While lying and turning,
while thinking and feeling,
in greater depth but disorderly,
one could want to arise and write immediately?
Would it be a pity
if one failed to record his experiences,
to lose them as they fade in memory,
and never relish the moments again?
Or more pathetic
if one desperately notes down
as soon as he experiences,
and ceases to live in the moment?

2009-10-09T20:03:00.004+08:00

Altruism and Morality of the Individual

Why should one do good for others? Why should one aid others in a sacrificial manner? Why should one live a life of service to others? Viewing it in a larger picture, it makes sense that humans should tend to, in mutual cooperation or aid, strengthen each other. Within them should exist an altruistic humane nature. A man cannot survive on his own. It is a healthy and prospering society that blesses the individual. So each and every person should do his or her own part in ensuring the prosperity of the society to which they belong, each doing their part in contribution to the community. And in return, they enjoy the combined fruits of success.

But why should one, under such circumstances, not be tempted to be a parasite? Why shouldn't one seek to have the luxury of not needing to put in any effort but to leech off the rewards of the prospering society due to the hard work of many others? If that were possible, it would not be unbelievable that the indivdual would choose such a lifestyle. Alas, it is money that keeps the individual in check. It accounts for the contribution by the individual. The individual has to participate in the building of society in order to reap the rewards. Here we have the principle of reciprocity. All effort is centered on returns. And returns are measured in units of money. Now why should one put in effort for society? Because it gives returns in the form of money. And why is money desirable? Because it is the ultimate substitute that can instantly transform into any desired material good. Here we have materialism driving the growth of society. Attaining wants is good. Wants are attained with money. Money is a return of contribution to society. Thus contributing to society ultimately is good for the individual. Here we have materialism defining the morals of the individual. Here the individual no longer does his part altruistically (unless he deceives himself). Here the individual does everything for himself.

2009-10-06T19:27:00.005+08:00

Is it that one sometimes tends to yearn for that which he denounces,
or is it that one tends to denounce that which he yearns for but cannot obtain?

It is completely natural for the stronger to take delight in inequality
and completely forgivable for the weaker to detest it.

Is it that any opposition to a logically flawless assertion is automatically wrong,
or is it that there is no universal code to right and wrong?

Is one privileged to chance upon the greatest experiences in life,
or does one undergo those experiences only because he innately seeks them?

-

like in a sky of dazzling stars
like in a sea of sparkling crystals
they shimmer they shine
they gleam they blind
here and there wherever whenever
the light catches my eye
so very bright
how very nice
could be right
surely would
but no be damned
they turn they dance
the flashes ever fleeting
a few steps forward
and never again be them seen
though all around they
never cease to be
but lost among them
that should not be

-

How could it be?
Maybe I want it to be.
Of all times, why now?
But any better, would there be?
Of all people, why you?
But then, perhaps, maybe.
Probably, probably, surely!
Is that what I think I see?
Is that what you feel for me?
I closed my eyes and soon there you'd be,
I opened my eyes feeling a little funny.
At myself, I laugh ridiculously.
Damned embarassed, I ought to be.
So come and be
close to me,
fuel my lust
and make me blush.

2009-10-03T22:29:00.009+08:00

Intelligence in Life

If you have nothing to show, who cares if you're "smart" or "intelligent"? Who gives a damn when there is no basis for argument? Intelligence cannot be quantified effectively. What is intelligence if it's not put into action and doesn't produce results? It is a humorous thing, trying to distinguish the intelligent from the unintelligent. How do you judge? Capacity of thought? Abstract obscurity? Apt practicality? Is being unintelligent weakness? Intelligence has no meaning without an outcome! What is thought but some workings in the mind that can never be isolated and examined, much less comprehended? Intelligence cannot be separated from the being and scrutinised. Intelligence is in relation to the being. Every individual is different and intellect acts in different degrees, in different manners. An intelligible thought to one is trash to another. Is it really necessary for the mind to have the ability to view things in complicated or abstract relations to one another? Perhaps instinct and intuition are sufficient. Is there any point in attempting to prove greater intelligence than another? Does this vague notion of a "higher" mind warrant superiority over others? Capacity for thought is useless if one does not fill that capacity with useful thoughts. What use is there in thinking abstract mathematical relations without relation to life itself? It is as useless as playing chess. Does playing chess help one to lead a better life? Does it allow one more awareness and control of his circumstances? Does it cultivate prudence in making decisions? Foolish intelligent people end up in asylums, sleeping in the streets, unemployed, mainly anywhere where they are labelled as losers of society. And they regret or lament, blaming the world for condemning them, for not recognising them as the gems of society, not recognising their brilliance. But all along they never utilise their god-damned intellect in life. In fact, they are the most stupid of all.

What is true intelligence? It is seeing things in relation to oneself. Any knowledge that cannot be acted upon is worthless.

2009-10-02T19:37:00.008+08:00

Perfection

We tend to think of perfection as an absolute, something that is not just the best, but all-surpassing and complete. Does that perfection exist? Is it perhaps true that perfection can only be worked towards but never obtained? But that which we suppose to be perfection is merely a concept that we create with one's own idea of good and bad. All "good" qualities and no "bad" qualities - that is our definition of perfect. But what is good and bad but merely tinted shades through our myopic human vision? All things, in the light of eternity, are neutral. There is no good or bad. One argues gravity is bad because it tires us out, while another argues gravity is good because it gives us stability, but what is gravity but some inexplicable phenomenon that just is the way it is? Mechanically, the universe is ever perfect the way it is. It is only through the bias of our human eyes that we see shades of imbalances and the unfavourable that we naturally label with "good and bad". But then again, this discriminatory function of ours is not superfluous. We have ideas of "good and bad" only because it is useful to us. It allows us to live. It is the core of decision making. We cannot see things in the light of eternity. We must see through our human eyes - because we are human.

The notion of a flawless ultimate "good" that we call perfection easily fires idealistic youthful passion, but more often than not, it leaves people resigned, unhappy and disappointed. There is a limit to human endurance and tolerance. It may be bendable but it will snap at some point. This childish fantasy that fuels false hope could do little good to the mortal soul. What we need is something within the constraints of human mortality. Now to create a perfection that is useful and not an idealistic fantasy, we have to be pragmatic. The pragmatic perfection is a process, not an end or achievable state. Perfection is not free of fault, it is a continuous striving that does not fret on mistakes but counters them with adaptation and resilience. Perfection is a flux of action. Practice does not make perfect. Practice is perfection itself.

-

Impossible is Nothing

Indeed! Impossible is the unachievable, the unknowable, the unthinkable, the unbelievable, the undoable; it cannot exist - impossible really is nothing.

2009-09-29T19:12:00.005+08:00

The passive stance. Seated upright. Shoulders set comfortably apart. Chin tilted slightly upwards. Faced dead straight. Placid. A twinkle in the eyes. The night was dreary. He gazed at his reflection in the glass window. Is that really me? Who am I? Who is this queerly familiar image? He thought of life. The future was bright. There was so much to look forward to. A mystery to uncover, a story to unfold, a journey to undertake, an adventure to experience. He had plans. He would never lose control of his life ever. He would equip, enrich and improve himself. He would foresee, prepare and proceed. It would be all too easy. He would have everything under control. He would no longer care to play. Life is the greatest game, and he would not be a loser. Then he thought of death. Thirty six years old, they say. Before that life's an uphill track. Tedious yet filled with excitement. There was only forward and upwards to look to. The heights shimmer like gaseous gemstones. There would always be a tomorrow. Aging was maturity, aging was growth, aging was a symbol of strength. Alas, when they reach the top, realisation of the very end dawns upon the fluttering soul. A downward descent the rest of the way, every tomorrow a step further from the joys of youth, a foot further from the shimmering mountain top, an irreversible move away from the peak, the climax of life. The descent would be near effortless, gravity acting graciously as ever. Yet the unready soul would dread the passing of time. Aging would be redundance, aging would be decay, aging would be the symbol of weak mortality. Looking forward at the very end there would be naught. A void. A vacuum. The cessation of time, the disappearance of space, the inaction of action, the dissipation of memories. But surely that is not all? He scrutinised that image before him. But he was not looking at his appearance, that was unimportant. He was trying to uncover the identity of his image. The matter constituting the mass. The unseen force behind the movement. The essence of reality. Could death be transcended? Am I not a reflection of my ancestors? Figments of their personality combined and refined to finer melody in I? Perhaps they are alive in me. Perhaps they are I, and I they. Their blood runs through my veins. I am of their flesh. Their strength is my strength, my flaws are their flaws. Here I am, alive, and thus they too are alive in I. Perhaps it was always their greatest wish that someday they would come alive again. Perhaps they have finally succeeded, today. Then and there, he had that surest certainty, that swept away all previous doubts, that he would one day have a wife and children. Then and there, for once in his life, he felt that perhaps he was no longer a boy. He had become normal in an abnormal way.

2009-09-27T20:28:00.003+08:00

a quick dab
the quilt scratches roughly
white the paper remains
alas it is dry.

a passive gaze
the clouds loom clumsily
hidden the stars became
where lies the shimmer?

where?
there.
where?
there!
somewhere out there where there is there is where where shall be there

the lights shine brightly in the distance
the greener pastures across to the other side
away from this pathetic dim
away from this sparse turf of weeds
onward in a trance in a spell
onward into the open arms of devil's deception

ideas are an illusion
life is an enchantment
the past is not the future
but the future is the past

the cat purrs
the dog barks
the lady screams
i am an earthworm

alas is a humorously suitable substitute for fuck

2009-09-21T19:46:00.004+08:00

The Age of Pragmatism. Thought is not an end in itself, thought is a means. The human capacity of thought is limited, and time shows neither favour nor mercy. Efficiency beats Idealism. There is no worth in everyone understanding. Formulae and norms dictate popular action, translating into efficiency. A general direction is created to synchronise the otherwise disordered masses. Rules and laws are to be accepted first and foremost. They do not need to pertain to truth so long as they achieve results. There is no worth in examining intent, results speak the loudest and too receive the most attention. Examples that produce favourable results are reasonable to follow - results define virtue. It is the age of statistics, of numbers, of materialism of both sorts. The individual is unimportant; the greater good is the overall improvement and advancement of the whole, as measured in numbers and statistics. The state does not act in the interest of the individual, it acts in the interest of the whole of individuals. Only by aligning individual interest to popular interest can one's interests be met. There is no worth in attributing various values to a single item to the demand and appreciation that varies from person to person; a mean value is calculated and accepted very well so. Value must be objective, not subjective. Society provides for the individual so long as the individual does a part in contribution, again measured in numbers. The part of the individual is to add value to the whole. Society is a machine. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

2009-09-17T20:43:00.003+08:00

within lies mystical mystery
muddled fuzzy chaos in disorder
flashes the occasional flicker of
glaring clarity with which the hand trembles
revelation of which enlightens none
the truth of one appeals not to the temperament of
men who read off the surface
alas all they see is their reflection
clarity ought returned obscure
carefully fabricated and embellished
what little there is to offer for the willing eye
a song undeciphered yet unlocked

2009-09-14T23:52:00.002+08:00

as i hold on to the pen
dread fills me
there is everything to write
but nothing i can write
the highest hope
comes with the greatest fear
the words that flowed smoothly before
become a chore to summon
to write was to make into becoming what was
to write is to do injustice to what is
it is the torment of the avid reader and the willing writer
the man of letters can read or write no more
cold reality drags him away from the shade of contemplation
beneath the numbing glare of action and reaction
now his intellect has no place in the world
all there is is hammer and sickle
time apathetically moves on

2009-09-14T19:46:00.003+08:00

Fuck

Do you really think you know the meaning of fuck?
Fuck does not mean sexual intercourse.
Fuck has nothing to do with penetration, screwing, banging of any kind.
So what then, is the meaning of fuck?
Do you remember that very first time,
when you got so damned angry, so damned pissed,
that you somehow uttered that sacred word fuck?
Whatever that you were trying to convey with that single word -
now that's the meaning of fuck.

Oh I'm sorry if this is too vulgar for you,
but hey, you know what?
The world is vulgar with all their petty desires and lust and grievances.
And somehow fuck seems so uncouth to them.
But to hell with them!
In my moral code, fuck is not the least bit impure.
I avoid it when I wish to appease them.
But you know, sometimes it's amusing to see their distorted faces,
and desperate checks of their moral conscience whence I not know.
I'd love to see you fucking your brains out in search of adjectives,
when such a simple fuck would do.

Fuck

2009-09-13T20:15:00.002+08:00

a clever assumption
a true love's kiss
song of reconcilliation
all I need to live in bliss
I laugh at theological God
I laugh at pantheistic God
Life; a comical tragedy

2009-09-10T22:32:00.008+08:00

"Here I am, in the darkness. My fellows have dared me to do this, and now you shall see that the fear of the dark is not known to me." Placing the camera on the ground two paces away, he assumed the appropriate position in full view of the camera, and did one and twenty pushups. After which, he picked up the camera, turned off the recording and proceeded back in the direction of the lights in the distance. It was all too easy. He had cast away his childhood fear of the dark, along with those inane beliefs of the supernatural long ago. He looked at his surroundings - trees, grass, path and all - and recalled what they had looked like in the day; they were no different at night as in the day, they only appeared different. Night was merely the absence of light - what was there to fear? When he was younger he hated the way his childhood fear haunted him despite his reason, and he had, many a time, compelled himself to seek the darkness. He would not turn on the lights if he were alone at home. He would eat in the darkness. He would talk to himself in the darkness. He would contemplate in the darkness. He would take walks alone at night. And he was no longer afraid. Instead, he savoured the darkness, he took delight in it. The absence of light made him feel at ease, comfortable, and even powerful. He was drawing closer now and could vaguely make out a few figures sitting at a picnic table. As he continued walking he became a little light-headed, perhaps due to lack of sleep. He saw his fellows turning and waving to him excitedly. Then he saw himself walking towards them.

His self approached the picnic table and was greeted with slaps on the back and grabs at the camera in his hand. But he was not there. He was not where his self, or body, was. He saw himself in third-person, as though it were a film. His consciousness had somehow detached from his own body, as it were that he was here yet looking there where his body was. Who was controlling that man, that he knew to be himself, that was before him when he was here? What was happening? Was he dreaming? His fellows, along with himself, walked away from the picnic table, and he was left staring at the empty table. He willed himself to turn left or right, but he couldn't. His vision was affixed in that particular position and angle. How long was it going to last? He wished he would awake from that frightful dream. There had to be some way to navigate, he thought. But however he willed, he had nothing to move. He was a consciousness without a body. He was a consciousness detached from matter. Then he noticed some movement along the edge of his vision. A cat with fur of the purest white caught his attention. Its coat gleamed in the faint moonlight as the cat literally catwalked, in that slow, sombre manner, coming to a stop at the centre of his vision. Deep black eyes stared right at him. The blackness of the eyes became more and more intimidating, more and more oppressive, more and more enchanting. It absorbed him. The whiteness of the cat's fur, the eerie lamp posts and the dim illumination they provided seem to fade into oblivion with those intense eyes. The set of eyes was like an abyss. There was no depth to its depth, no colour in its deep shade, no return from its entrance. And then there was nothing but blackness. And then there was nothing but darkness.