Sentimental Bitch

These are most of the people who breathe colour into my life right now.

I'll be on a flight to Cambodia tomorrow for 10 days, and I'm gonna fuckin' miss Manchester United Vs Chelsea which is the worsest thing ever right now even though I'm a fan of neither.




Wear short sleeves to support your right to bare arms.

Audio Candy:
I Am Ghost - Beyond The Hourglass

Unbridled

Jose: "As much as I hate doing it, complaining about the army is like a guilty pleasure."
Leon: "At least we're complaining about something. Girls complain all the time about nothing."
Jose: "Maybe... The average NSF is somewhat made to go through everything so that when we're out, we've kinda seen a lot of it already."
Leon: "I just went out with this girl. And she's quite different and unlike the rest because she's worked quite a bit before. I might even say she's more mature than me."
Jose: "Hmm. What do you think we'd be like if we hadn't been through all that NS shit?"
Leon: "We'd be like girls."

I thought this was quite amusing because of it's unintended double entendre.




I've been following some of the famous Lord Coplestone Vs Bertrand Russell debates back in the earlier part of last century. Bertrand Russell was once asked what he would say if, after death, he found himself confronted by God, and he replied, "I shall say to Him, 'Why did you make the evidence of your existence so insufficient?"

On first glance, I can't quite believe he made a comment like that. Since it can be considered a given that great philosophers say things only when they are certain of the impact their words will make, I'd expect that he should've been aware of the repercussions to his comment, especially since it is a very atheist, non-christian thing to say. Not that that's wrong, since he's always been a strong advocate of atheism, but it does seem somewhat shallow of him if he hasn't considered how inadequate that comment will be to many eagerly listening people out there.

Unless he is trying to make a deeper point, that he probably doesn't really care anyway since, to him, it is precisely the scientific proofs we need to declare something believable. It almost sounds like he'd fancy a debate with God Himself, and it would all be kickstarted with that question to God.

If evidence for God was so readily available, there'd be no room for faith. It's dichotomous, kinda like how the more symbolic a present or gift is, the less practical value it'd have.




Every now and then I visit the street soccer court just downstairs past lights-off hours (they switch off the lamps so that people stop playing because it's quite noisy and disruptive to sleep for those in the proximity), and I've been just freely practicing some sequences and moves from a wide range of things I've been exposed to, including Capoeira, tricking and breakdance. It's pitch-black dark, there's nobody around, and there's a whole lot of space. I'd just bust my guts jumping around, trying flips and sweating it out until I can't move anymore; then I'd just lie down, plug in and zone out to my music and stare at the overhead blanket of night sky, thinking of everything and nothing all the same. And I really love the solitude-on-standby. It's nice to have found a new mode of getting away.




Who's General Failure and why's he reading my disk?

Audio Candy:
Avenged Sevenfold - I Won't See You Tonight Part 1

When Everything Feels Like The Movies

It is fascinating how it paradoxically takes a great deal of reflection and detachment from oneself in order to experience or understand oneself in one's full tangible entirety. By associative means, we find the meanings and values to things that matter to us. We patronise movies and songs when we chance upon symbolic meanings in them, embracing undertones and calling them our own. Blogs play on this, as friends excitedly scramble to read what others have to say of a common activity in order to relive experiences in the words of others. How often have we had that immense sensation of deja vu, of intimacy, with a form of art that we can identify with when it strikes a chord with some personal experience of our own? Few or not, when the frequencies of our lives match with that of a poetic verse, a grand painting or a punchline in a song, the amplitude of recognizable emotion reverberates ten-fold with a fond understanding of ourselves captured in the canvas of an artpiece.

Likewise, we are equally fond of defining ourselves, or others, by the things within one's personal sphere. Profile sites pay due homage to lists of hobbies, favourite music and books, because they offer both an expression of the self as well as a mask - neither hidden in personality nor concrete in accuracy, with a tinge of cheekiness when the subversive nature of such proclamations are understood and can be harnessed to greater, deeper meaning, like when someone wishes to demonstrate his sarcasm by writing an ironic description of himself rather than stating bluntly that he is sarcastic. People indulge in forming ideals - of their significant other, of their goals and passions, of a multitude of other frivolous things - and hold them dear because we think, and perhaps know, that these define us for who we are. Sooner or later, we become defined by the company we associate with and, with his reciprocation well-understood, we deem it valid to judge others by their friends, amongst other things in one's personal realm.

We humans are a complicated lot as we opt for the merry-go-rounds to get to the point. And it is this folly that contributes to making us all the more human for it. Great artists understand this as well as its utility in the parodic nature of art, and revel and bask in the skilful manipulation of emotions to excite or soothe the senses. And as for the rest of us, we continue to seek external symbols to call our own in order to become the persons we hope to be.




"All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their own peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors."

"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life."

- Oscar Wilde

Audio Candy:
Drew Sidora - 'Til The Dawn

Game Tester

This is off JobsDB.com and Kelly Services.

WTF!

Will The Future Blame Us?

Angie and I managed a really last minute meet up with Rahul Sagar on Tuesday, and the talk with him really made the light at the end of the tunnel shine so much brighter. Things pertaining to the future can indeed get pretty muddled for social science students because of all the typical sentiments associated with it, especially it's practical viability and prospects. But as always, Rahul was able to put things in such clear perspective.

He's leaving on Friday for Princeton. It is such an honour to have been taught by him because he represents a lot of what we aspire to be but lose along the way as the rat race devours us. Add to that the fact that he, realistically, shouldn't have even been here in the first place, and I guess all of us feel all the more lucky.

So the game plan now seems a whole lot less vague. Try and up the GPA so that applying to further my studies for a Masters wouldn't be such a bitch, probably in an anglo-inclined country like England, America, Australia or Canada. Get as much overseas exposure as possible through internships, and explore and gain experience. Come back to Singapore not having been from so-and-so university, but having done this from that country. It feels great to know that I don't just have to slime down into the corporate drain like how it seems to always inevitably be, because being a budding social scientist means the prospects of going into the media, publishing and academics side of things, which has always fascinated and called out to me so much more, are wide open and there for the taking.

Time is passing in a whirlwind of a spin, spiralling by neither slow nor straight. While I've asked for a lot of this, I'm finding that I have terribly little time to do what's come to be newly important. Then again, remorse and regrets are shallow emotions.




Some authors should be paid by the quantity NOT written.

Audio Candy:
Radiohead - Pyramid Song

The One Who Knows Best

Happy Mother's Day!
I pretty much had Angie to thank for for making me not feel bad about not doing anything for this year's mother's day.
I had to make an unpleasant exit to Rachel's birthday party earlier because of, thankfully, a false alarm. I received quite a fair bit of concern from everyone so I'm really grateful for that.


This is one song that never fails to evoke such haunting emotion each time it comes on that I honestly can't finish it sometimes, having to skip the track midway through.


Corrinne May - Fly Away
"When will you be home?" she asks
as we watch the planes take off
We both know we have no clear answer
to where my dreams may lead
She's watched me as I crawled and stumbled
As a child, she was my world
And now to let me go, I know she bleeds
and yet she says to me
You can fly so high
Keep your gaze upon the sky
I'll be praying every step along the way
Even though it breaks my heart
to know we'll be so far apart
I love you too much to make you stay
Baby fly away
Autumn leaves fell into spring time and
Silver-painted hair
Daddy called one evening saying
"We need you. Please come back"
When I saw her laying in her bed
Fragile as a child
Pale just like an angel taking flight
I held her as I cried
You can fly so high
Keep your gaze upon the sky
I'll be praying every step along the way
Even though it breaks my heart
to know we'll be so far apart
I love you too much to make you stay
Baby fly away

It's such a simple 4-verse song but it spells a message of a scenario, so clear, that we'd all have to face one day.





Memory is like an orgasm. It's a lot better if you don't have to fake it.

Audio Candy:
Self Against City - Ready And Willing

The Malaysia II Canvas Spillover

Stepped on local soil last night at slightly past 11pm after a blast of a time in Kuala Lumpur and Genting. Thanks to some efficient uploading courtesy of the ladies who all brought cameras, I can present, in brief...

Cast and Scene

With Angie in the cable car on the way up to Genting, cheesily blasting and singing to The Fray's Over My Head.

With Mikaela in the cable car. Looking up and spotting Genting above the clouds felt like we were on a stairway to heaven.

With Rachel at the resident Starbucks. That ain't my drink (it was for posing purposes), but it was awesome having hot capuccino in the cool Genting atmosphere.

With our super host Yinz, without whom any of this would probably have been inconceivable, on the Ferris Wheel ride in Genting's theme park.

With Jacq and the dudes Richard and Isaac, queueing up for the toboggan ride. Hahar interestingly this is the only photo I can find so far that is some properly taken photo of me with the guys (though it still does leave much to be desired). So yeh to kill two birds with one stone, Jacq comes in here too (sorry girl! Hahar).

[May 11, 01:12 edit]
Jacq is upset as she thinks she isn't worthy of an individual picture so here goes! I do not discriminate against people who can't read ONDE ONDE signs! Us on the Ferris Wheel. :]

And yes the much talked-about 'only group shot'. :]

Countless enjoyable moments happened during the trip, if I'm not already stating the obvious. Offhand, for those who are fondly in the know, I can recollect... The sunglasses camwhoring (and how Malaysian men need some if they wanna pull off the ogling more discreetly), the pillow fights in the hotel room, the wonderfully freezing temperature, the Starbucks that became a favourite retreat for more reasons than one, the theme park rides and who liked and didn't like what, Isaac/Bosco's endless facial expressions and his cockster fright at the Haunted House, card games and cup noodles, "DO IT!" (and other quotable trademarks), Rachel's explosive brutally honest moments and shopping sprees, the focus group, the neverending sleeping-position gripe the ladies have (and along those lines, other relevant gripes e.g. toilet habits), the good-looking Malaysian dude and our endless Malaysian fashion peeve, how FOS is serious business in Malaysia (and my purchase of the ubiquitous brown striped sweater), Speed Racer (power!), Kakashi (crap), the porridge eating competition, our attempt to get Jacq interested in fellow litterbug-hater Ahmad, and looking at Yinz's dog's balls.


And I guess these are still only the beginning of memories for a lifetime.

I dunno how the rest are settling back in in the aftermath of all that excitement but I suppose I'm good now that I woke early for a much-needed dose of saturday soccer and I'm in town armed with books to read. Malaysia is a swell place with great company but takeaways I'd definitely have are that I've come to appreciate Singapore's transport system and the orderliness of other basic infrastructures a whole lot more. Not to mention our local ladies too. Hahar.




When someone annoys you it takes 42 muscles in your face to frown, but it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and bitch-slap the asshole.

Audio Candy:
Gasoline Heart - Local Dude Has Guitar

PODG

This oppressive summer heat is killing me. So much for the summer rain.

I finished The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the ending was nothing short of exquisite. Part of the tragedy resides in its somewhat unromantic, inexplicable end, offering no sentiment nor explanation, but instead presented in the cold, hard third person narrative of his own death, preceded in fact by his sudden desire to turn over a new leaf which may be harder for some to swallow.

A couple of blocks nearby are undergoing en bloc I think. The markings made on them look quite artistic in a cartoonish, quirky, kok kinda way.

It is time to pack and leave in the middle of everything once again. Til the 9th, good bye.




If you are not the lead sled dog, the world looks pretty much the same every day.

Audio Candy:
The Used - Paralyzed

Cosmic Truths

As always, reliably, time cures even the sickest of souls, and although I am fully anticipative, I can surprise myself with my own strength and will; and the pointer shifts to the cross without a moment's hesitation and the window vanishes into oblivion with a click laden with conviction.


Watched 10-man Manchester United trash West Ham 4-1. It was painful watching West Ham labourously struggle against a team with fewer players. Ronaldo is just insane, getting his goal tally to 40 in this game. He's a true blue fox in the box without even having to be a permanent fixture as a boxed striker. I swear he probably got so tired scoring with his left foot, right foot, back heel, head etc that he tried to use his dick to score the 2nd goal.

I started a 6hr Scrabble marathon back on the good ol' ISC server when I got home and, over 20-30 games, lost only twice and got my rating all the way up from 700+ to almost 1000. It stands at 929 as of now. It's about time to put myself where I wouldn't be considered underrated.


In one psychology experiment, a man had electrodes wired to his brain and mild currents were discharged to certain areas to trigger movement from him. Interestingly, it seemed that his awareness was entirely post hoc, i.e. he would commit an action and then justify it. For example, when an electrical wave was passed that caused him to bend down, he would say that he was actually bending down so that he could pick up his shoe, not because he felt stupid doing what he did but because he earnestly believed that it was an action he had wanted to do.

This somewhat implies that do we our everyday actions, and then reactively attempt to justify why we do what we do. This means that free will itself (not just awareness) could all simply be a big farce - that we aren't exactly the master of ourselves and our actions. This Plato's Cave, Brain-in-the-Vat derivative is consistent of sorts with the fact that we do have reaction time lags - there is a split second difference between our thinking and movement so they aren't exactly in sync.

This seems to support the scientific school of thought that everything is predestined, and has its roots in the dynamics of quantum physics, along the lines of creationist and Big Bang theory and how its incidence is too coincidental (or minimally probable) to be an accidental occurrence, i.e. there was some form of predestiny assigned to everything by some kind of 'higher power'.

If that 'higher power' were personified, for example, to be a Christian God, then it terribly contradicts with the goodwill virtues of Christianity's idea of free will presented to all persons (the rhetoric that you have a choice to be saved - you will be saved if you want to be saved, blah blah). If we consider this 'higher power' to be a neutral force, then things could be a whole lot less complicated.


When I was at Borders the other day, I recalled a couple of books I'd read halfway the last time I was there (which was Chinese New Year's Eve) so I found them and continued where I left off. Astromony and physics and other collateral subjects have always fascinated me immensely.

It is said that the 'word of God' is in the cosmos. When you consider the story (or theory) of the birth of the Universe and Earth and life as we know it, the indirect work of whatever engineers everything can suddenly seem so clear. The less coincidental, more intended Big Bang aside, we can see how it can be most enticing to think of whoever or whatever made life possible as a man of God-like status by retelling the story of life.

It has been theorized that another heavenly body collided into Earth, causing shattered debris to form the moon which acts as a very important stabilising factor that ensures that the Earth spins at a specific angle. This specific angle enables the Earth to have a consistent climate and environmental stability. When these vital factors are sustainable and a balance is in place, atoms and molecules can then form complex compounds that begin to gain the ability to replicate. Some continue reproducing while others have errors in the copying process. A competition for survival then ensues, as organisms devise and submit blueprints for what they perceive as the ultimate survival plan, program, or machine.

I can almost picture someone, if I were to personify this 'higher power' as a manly person, peering at Earth and thinking, "yes, this is the one," and ordering a asteroid to be flung at it so that a moon can be created to create the motions of the oceans that would breathe life into a barren piece of huge cosmo rock. And maybe he has tried to do that to Mars, but the plan failed for some reason, and all we have on that planet is a small patch of ice.

The uncovering of the many natural mechanisms that are in place that allow things to happen the way they have is like having the secret of anything at all that matters whispered proudly into our keen yet naive ears.

Yes, it is indeed enticing to personify and anthropomorphize simply because we humans are a sentimental lot.


In about 14 hours I will be on a coach to Kuala Lumpur til next Friday, so tschuss for now!


What does this all mean? If it can come to this, then my heart, deadened by the mind, has no part to play, and perhaps we can justifiably say that untrustworthy emotions are the purest of illusions.




Philosophy is a game with objectives and no rules. Mathematics is a game with rules and no objectives.

Audio Candy:
Pensive - Live Fast

R.E.M. (Rapid Eye Movement, Or Random Emo Moments)

And even now, weak as it sounds, I'm still reeling each time I ponder about how everything has turned out, each blow that has turned on itself, and wonder pointlessly whether I could or should have done anything differently. Points in two cases tell me it's no one-off coincidence.


I have the edgy, muffled sensation in my head telling me I had a dream with it's cheekily planted remnants of something that was there - a setting, some people, a vague notion of what might've happened - but as always I'm always one to rarely recall or know what I dream about. I think on average I am aware of 1 dream per 1 or 2 months. It's not that I don't dream - REM research has found that people on average have up to 7 dreams a night - it's just that my sleep's probably usually deep enough that what's from my subconscious stays hidden. And when it doesn't stay hidden, and a little information overflows and trickles out, the frustrating feeling of any attempt to recollect, mostly out of curiosity, the great unfolding of these little suddenly created mental storybooks (that seem to be as quickly eradicated into my conscious oblivion) can be likened to seeing the tail of a very big and fast monster slip past a corner. By the time you rush to that bend to see what it was, it's gone. All I have left is that fleeting notion of knowing something was there, and I attempt to rebuild a story based on what I think the monster would've looked like from an imagination founded on past experiences.

And even more queerly, as time passes and I do not exercise any thought to anchor the sight of the 'tail' down, I begin to rapidly forget the colour and shape of it; then the dream becomes yet another one that got away, like ghosts that revel and dance under the steal of darkness and dreadedly shun the accusatory glare of daylight.

Under psychology we learn that dreams are important as a form of reorganising of mental data - of stuff we talk about and see in the day, and those secondary judgments that our subconscious mind makes from peripheral experiences that we haven't consciously come to terms with yet. It's kinda like a library. In the day, books are taken off the shelves, their information required for many purposes. And then they're either placed back in the wrong shelves or left all over the place. After the library closes (and the dreaming starts), the books need to arranged back properly so that the next day's referencing and reading activities can go on as efficiently as possible. A person has REM (rapid eye movement) when he or she dreams, so it has been found that when a person's dreaming gets interrupted, the incidence of REM will increase the next time around. Whenever a person continually gets his or her access to dreaming denied, he or she will end up being forgetful or incoherent in thought when awake.

Since it's 1330 on a lazy Labour Day, let me write about some friend's dreams I have starred in. I might get some plots totally wrong but hey I'm the star; balls to the accuracy of unreality!

Jacq's Dream
I'm not sure what this dream was about, but I appeared in it as a big, old, sage-like talking tree, like in Lord of the Rings.

Sab's Superhero Dream
Apparently Sab was some superhero, and she was fighting terrorists and there were other supervillains and superheroes. And I happened to pledge allegiance to the dark side by being Grasshopperman. Basically, other than being green, I could 'teleport' long distances by turning into a grasshopper. I also ended up crawling under her skin.

Wendy's Psychology Class Gathering Dream
Wendy was having a NTU psychology class gathering when I appeared out of nowhere and pulled her with me and we starting running after a bus because it had something inside which I wanted to show her. When we caught the bus and got in, there were fishes inside, and I told her to look at them. Then the fishes died.


Til now nothing quite keeps me occupied in a fit of daydreaming as thinking about soccer. Sometimes, I can seriously spend up to 30mins straight just imagining moves, juggling sequences and dribbling patterns, and trying to conjure up some of my own in my head.

Soccer can be like chess sometimes. There are certain positions you and your opponent players can be in, and you'll find that they can never get the ball off you without committing a foul. And there are certain situations that occur which enable the team to get into an inspired, in-the-zone moment, and everyone will start playing like Arsenal or Real Madrid. It takes creativity and footballing genius to get into these situations, and arrange your opponents into positions that can be easily taken out.

And sometimes, I can achieve a state which I term 'mental vacuum'. It's a state of being totally awake and yet totally not consciously thinking about anything. And sometimes, in a sickening way, I can get stuck in it, 'refusing' to snap out of it (though refusing isn't quite the right word to use since it, in the sense of the word, is an activity that requires conscious effort), and on hindsight it can feel like I'm dead while alive for those few moments.


And then you reappear suddenly just as I've convinced myself that I'm through with these thoughts that only serve to poison when they linger, and honestly I might be taking it more affectedly than I guess I should. It sickens me of sorts that maybe I'm choosing to let it be this way, because I can't bear to let go or some other excuse along those silly lines. But then again, it's also different because now it's like I have whatever it is in my hands, at once observable and manipulable - a blasphemous marriage of the actor and spectator - and before long that smirk spreads itself across my lips once again.




If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.

Audio Candy:
Melee - Built To Last

This was the bored-during-econs random doodle.


And this I just did earlier today, to kickstart a summer of pencil drawings and hard-line sketches. Too bad that's the largest size I can manage to upload on blogger.

Sorry to all tank junkies out there (read: Richard. Hahar), but I have no idea what tank model this is. It's an old lighter that doesn't work anymore actually.

Rachel had these to say of my presence in school today:
1) You came all the way to school just to gym?
2) Draw that (the tank) for what?

It kinda sums up what I get from alotta people anyway. School gym's free, it's actually a lot better than most other gyms, and you get to meet people you know there. And it's location is pretty convenient - both in terms of being not too far and it being situated in town.

I don't think I need a reason to draw other than personal passion and interest, as much as people don't need a practical reason to bake, or shop, or read, or pursue any other seemingly pointless activity.

The results are coming in little by little:

Creative Thinking: B-
BGS: B+
Political Science: B+

Political science is the best result so far. It's somewhat miraculous I think, though I have no idea what the breakdown is yet due to technical problems, because I've always been doing shittily for my quizzes, often can't grasp the concept of the readings as easily as others can (though I guess I got a hang of it towards the end), and messed up the mid terms with that 4/10 result. I felt it was quite downhill like the way it was for me last term with sociology, which I eventually got a C+ for.

But I did have faith in my term paper - Is Democracy a Universal Value? - and felt confident of sorts after the finals. So maybe it was because of those. I really thought political science was gonna be a goner.

I guess maybe I deserved the B+ grade for BGS the way I treated the final paper (my 45min stunt). But I had much higher hopes for this one.

B- for creative thinking is totally bullshit. If I made it big some day with my creative ability, that'd be the best present to jack Goh Ban Eng with. I don't need a crappy creative thinking class to tell me that someone supposedly important thinks I'm not creative enough. I suppose there's quite a bit of irony in it though, the way we were preaching about creativity only being acceptable within the context of the situation with our group presentation, when we weren't being creative within the criteria set by her.

Make no mistake, this is not another mediocre-grade complaint. I don't have to get over the mediocrity because I'm not bothered by it to begin with. As Farhan put it perfectly, "why is everyone complaining about their freaking grades? ZOMG. If you're dumb, suck it up! Do better next time."

My surfing foray found this snippet of interesting news that the diet of a pregnant mother can determine the gender of the unborn child. Briefly, the higher the energy level of the intake (i.e. the better the diet), the more likely the child will be a boy. What fascinated me was the evolutionary interpretation of the results. This, the scientists say, is in line with the theory of evolution as a 'natural mechanism' for gender selection because, "for most species, the number of offspring a male can father exceeds the number of offspring a female can give birth to. But this is so only if conditions are favorable - poor quality male specimens may fail to breed at all, whereas females reproduce more consistently."

This means that if times are good, resources are plentiful and conditions are favourable, it would evolutionarily be wiser to invest in the production of a son because he would, along the way, produce more children than a daughter would, in line with aiding the survival of his species. If times are bad, males are of less use than females along the same logic of thought.

And if this is true, we're fucking it up because females in developed societies are increasingly consuming poorer diets (it's bad not because there are more females born, but because it tips the natural balance), and this is evidential and consistent with "a very gradual shift in favour of girls over the last four decades in the sex ratio of newborns, according to the researchers."

Always remember that you're unique, just like everyone else.

Audio Candy:
I Am Ghost - Lover's Requiem

The Ball Is Round

Went for the Project Bonalai vaccinations yesterday, and then headed down to the printer to attempt to seal the deal. Things on the design end have been a bitch. When shit happens, it happens in streaks.

But looking on the brighter side of things, I eventually ended up at the Athirah prata place for dinner and they were showing the Mosconi Cup for 2007 in Vegas. Briefly, the Mosconi cup is an annual America Vs Europe pool tournament and, prior to 2007, Europe had only ever won once in a 13 year-old competition dominated by the US.

Over nasi goreng ikan bilis and kambing soup, I watched a couple of rounds of the usual stuff - unadulterated precision and immaculate placement - elements of the professional pool game. But just as I was done with my dinner, the singles game came on between Shane "the king of safety" van Boening of Team US and Tony "blink and you'll miss" Drago of Team Europe. Of course, being the noob I am, I never knew who they were until I was deep in the throes of the match which turned out to be sensational.

So I ended up staying another half an hour or more as I watched the two players bring 9-ball pool waaay up another notch. Tony Drago is nicknamed 'The Tornado' for the incredible speed and accuracy with which he wastes his opponents, and Shane van Boening is the master of intelligent play and safety shots (a safety is when you hide the cue ball so that the opponent doesn't have a clear shot). I later learnt from the commentary that the biggest criticism of young van Boening's game is his lack of aggression in play. Which made sense - if your strength is in defence, you can only be a reactive player. And Tony Drago tore him apart especially in 2 of the rounds, where he cleared the table in only a little over a minute. And they'd replay his entire round in quick motion just to show how fast he plays.

Drago won the game 6-2 in spectacular fashion, and that singles match was the turning point, as Team Europe caught up to eventually win the 2007 Mosconi Cup for only the 2nd time in 13 years.

American commentators are also really different from British commentators. As always, people talk about the subtle, dry wit of the British, which can be evidenced from EPL match commentaries, and compare that to the slapstick and more direct wit of the Americans, as can especially be observed in WWE matches. During the van Boening-Drago game, one commentator said, "he looks happier than Paris Hilton in a room full of cameras," when the camera caught a pleased Tony Drago after drawing first blood in the opening round. When there was fantastic placement of the cue ball after a rather tight shot, another remarked, "he couldn't have put it there any better with his hand!"

Played soccer today back at the good ol' Hougang street soccer courts, and this time around there was a malay team present. They were quite decent, but after awhile things got overheated as Sanchin and one of the guys from the malay team threatened to come to blows. It was really unnecessary on their part, as they kept accusing us of rough play when it was really obvious they were much dirtier in their play, and when Sanchin pointed it out to them they were incensed. Furthermore, in one particular round, we'd knocked them out already; in petulance, they wanted to form another team (with their excess players) and immediately re-enter to play again. Sanchin stood his ground because we'd earlier criticised another team for fielding 2 teams when the rest of us had equally many players but only fielded 1 team. But because of his valiance, the malay team was most displeased and later sought to seek revenge by playing in the most fucked up manner ever (complete with dives and taunts - unbelievable stuff), and gave him quite a bit of shit whenever he got the ball or challenged for it.

But we kept our cool, didn't retaliate and eventually knocked them out again anyway. Kids.

Now that everyone's done with their papers we can bring on the soccer matches again - both in playing and watching. Heading down to Leon's later to catch the early EPL telecast. Woot, sweet summer.




Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are stiffened.

Audio Candy:
The Color Fred - If I Surrender

Unforeseen Foreseeing

This is gonna be a boring, random, egocentric post that may become characteristic of future postings now that days may become less objective.

Joined Jasper for some random midweek, mid-day footballing at Braddell Heights CC today, which was cut short by the rain. But it was a welcome reinitiation after about a month's layoff from the sport; I was badly out of shape though it was good to feel the ball at my feet again.

My usual soccer kaki consists of people mainly from NTU, so I'll have to wait til the end of this week before we can get together again. Actually, it's not just the waiting til the end of this week that's different. When we were JC mates and all that, we usually didn't care so much for the books. But they're in NTU engineering now and alot of them have changed to be much more studious by virtue of the nature of the faculty they're in, especially when there's a truckload of academically kickass foreign students in the competing pack.

There are always plenty of drawbacks in general terms of not following the crowd, or of not going the way your background is expected of you. Yeh I know this is stating the obvious, but I wanna be whiney, once in awhile at least. For one, soccer sessions for me are compromised this way. The interesting girls all have a 'cool religion' (hahar okay exaggeration I know). Clubbing is a way of life. Okay too many exaggerations and sweeping statements, shall stop.

If I could live long enough, I'd revisit my entire lifetime at least once, and if I could for longer enough, I'd do everything the other way to see what it could've been. And I guess I'm saying this only because I know that won't happen.

There's an upcoming documentary titled God is Green. It's somewhat of a call out to religious leaders to join in the global green environmental fray, because our governments and big corporations don't seem to be making things happen. The tagline in the advertisement that got me was that most, if not all, religious leaders should set their differences aside for once and come together to do it for Earth's sake, if not for God's sake.

I, or we in fact, have been at our lobo-est best the past few days, peaking with our arcade-going ventures and chilling out at the Coffee Beans and Starbuckses around town. I had lunch at the Allson Hotel coffeeshop yesterday with the guys and then we went to see Yinz and Daren off at Novena.

The rest went on for the C'est La Vie Butterfactory party but I resolved not to go for a couple of reasons so I headed home early. It's been good in terms of paying off my member-of-the-family dues because, now that I don't have school, the folks don't see any reason for me to be absent from home. Think of the usual 'you think home is a hotel ah?' sentiment. It's kinda gay for a 22 year-old to have to deal with this but that's just the way it has always been for me.

So since I'm home, and missing Mambo tonight, and I'm semi-done with the overdue forms I'm supposed to fill up for the Cambodia community service trip and realising I have a heap of stuff to sort out, this is a reminder-to-myself-cum-you-may-feel-like-this-is-pointless-and-you're-wasting-your-time-reading-this-shit-and-you're-probably-right list of upcoming endeavours:

25/4/08 (fri)
1330h
OCIP vaccination at Tan Tock Seng

28/4/08 (mon) - 30/4/08 (wed)
First Aid Course (wtf? Just found out about this.)

29/4/08 (tue)
Political Science Rahul Sagar Party

2/5/08 (fri)
Project Bonalai meeting

4/5/08 (sun) - 9/5/08 (fri)
KL and Genting trip

15/5/08 (thu)
Project Bonalai meeting

19/5/08 (mon)
Project Bonalai meeting

21/5/08 (wed) - 30/5/08 (fri)
Project Bonalai!

2/6/08 (mon) - 3/6/08 (tue)
Social Science sub-committee and facilitators' retreat

23/6/08 (mon) - 25/6/08 (wed) or 30/6/08 (mon) - 2/7/08 (wed)
Mock Camp 1

7/7/08 (mon) - 9/7/08 (wed)
Local SMU Matriculation

10/7/08 (thu) - 11/7/08 (fri)
Mock Camp 2

20/7/08 (sun) - 23/7/08 (wed)
Social Science Camp

25/7/08 (fri)
OCS Briefing

Okay I realise this is a rather damaging schedule for a disorganised and whimsical person like myself, where there is significant inertia accompanying many of the things I do. On top of these commitments, I'd like to work, draw, read and pick up on Spanish where I last left off, and do anything else or meet anyone else in between that might seem interesting. All in a bid to pursue the things I'd like to do when I envision myself being the kinda of person I wish I was, and hopefully prove the first paragraph of this post that the upcoming days may be less objective wrong.

To make me feel like turd, keep me devoid of decent social exchange for a few days or so. I wither without social expression and a nice round of idea exchanging.




Every mother generally hopes that her daughter will snag a better husband than she managed to do, but she's certain that her boy will never get as great a wife as his father did.

Audio Candy:
So They Say - Wake Me Up

Bimbo

Richard and I are sitting in Mr Tea and he's been busying himself with some Rubik cubing and me with a book and then getting on the net with my laptop, and sporadically eavesdropping on a group of 3 girls frantically talking about really funny and weird guys-don't-and-won't-get-it stuff. Like how being tall is cool, how 'big hair' is nice and yet unattainable, if wearing spectacles allows you to not put make up on etc.

So I was prompted to dig up an old comic strip that I cut out from the papers quite some time ago:

(When guys hang out) (When girls hang out)

I guess it can be likened to girls saying that the stuff guys spout, like cars and technology and Rubik's cube and soccer, are equally inane. I might argue that stuff like that require a greater degree of more useful knowledge and ability (see On Female Mediocrity), but I guess, who am I to make a normative judgement and say what's more important in this world?

It kinda reminds me of the other day when Angie and I were at Takashimaya and I asked her if Jimmy Choo was like some local brand and she went, "omg, bimbo moment!" Of course, to me that totally didn't constitute to being anywhere near 'foolish, stupid or inept' (see bimbo) in the sense of the word because it doesn't strike me being as important as, say, knowing the difference between a speedometer and an odometer, or some other bit of knowledge as being more 'worth knowing' in my personal opinion. Like when some girls push on pull doors, don't know who Kim Jong Il is, or are unaware after a year that SMU has a Social Science faculty, those are what I'd consider to be real bimbo moments.

But I guess we live in a world that has been historically institutionalised by the male gender anyway. If the world was inherently matriarchal, perhaps being pretty with dainty nails, fussing over hair and makeup and knowing your Manolo Blahniks from your Charles & Keiths are what really matters, vis-a-vis understanding the offside rule. Hahar.

Welsh men only marry Welsh women because sheep can't cook.

Audio Candy:
Taylor Swift - Teardrops On My Guitar

The Post-Exam Beginning

School's out, the holidays are in, and already the post-exam activities are starting to pile up such that I'm having trouble keeping track of them. Not that I'm particularly adept at keeping track of most matters in a non-last-minute kinda way, but it's still wreaking havoc on my schedule nonetheless.

Like waking up at 12pm today to SMSes telling me that I have to be in school for OCIP meetings at 1030h tomorrow.

Anyhooser, the laptop problem's now solved so I've got a computer to use, and I've been spending a huge part of my time the past few days sorting out my data, which has amounted to quite a fsckin' great deal of effort to anyone who might observe me. It's not an especially important endeavour but it's just a personal hang-up if I don't deal with it, so in a 'the best way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it' kinda way, I've been facing the screen in loserish fashion for quite a bit.

The story behind the laptop is this. To make things simpler, the laptops in question shall be dubbed Quasimodo and Immortal II (courtesy of Angie). I've been using Quasimodo since late J1, which was back in 2003. About 3 months or so in January, Quasimodo died for the first time. What ensued were 4 attempts to revive him, and each time he died again. Along the way, the technician upgraded his hardware because hardware glitches were suspected, and I switched to using Immortal II as a makeshift computer, which was actually my dad's but he doesn't use it either because it had slowed down quite a bit and its system was so unstable it couldn't do much else other than simple surfing and MSN, or he's got another laptop provided by his office, or both. To survive the 3 months, I subsisted off whatever minimal things I could do with Immortal II and pimped off the computers in the library, so for once the library became a regular haunt of mine. After the 4th death of Quasimodo, we decided enough was enough so the technician transferred the goodies and upgrades from Quasimodo to Immortal II and, in the process, Immortal II got pimped into Immortal II Hyper.

So yeh that's the story. Quasimodo is somewhat comatosed now in a bag next to me, while Immortal II Hyper sits pristine and pretty on my table. Angie thinks that I'm heartless and that Immortal II Hyper sucks and doesn't deserve to exist because he killed Quasimodo. I think we shouldn't anthropomorphize and humanise computers and other relevant technological apparatus. :] Getting emotionally connected to stuff that can die on you either so easily or so suddenly is like creating little potential suicides.

Saturday marked the end of the exams with the 2hr BGS paper at 9am. My aim was seriously to finish the paper as fast as I could, and that I did, rounding off my last bit of work by the 45th minute. We can't leave until an hour passes, so I waited til 10am, handed in my paper, and then joined a bunch of random people - Eleanor, Peihua and Clara - who were all early-submission champions, for some neither-here-nor-there meal at Raffles City's Mos Burger.

Eleanor is really funny in a kok way. Let's just say that she never knew social science exists as a faculty in SMU; the rest is up to your imagination.

Headed back to school to meet Angie and Isaac, and we whiled the time away by going to the arcade and playing our trademarked Time Crisis II and other random games. Isaac had to join his girlfriend for a bit, so Angie and I ended up catching The Forbidden Kingdom which stars Jackie Chan, Jet Li and Liu Yi Fei.

The movie marks the first time the two martial arts maestros Jet Li and Jackie Chan have starred together. Richard said he heard or read somewhere that the cameras were having trouble keeping up with their fight scenes and stunt sequences.

On first impression, I thought it was gonna be some rather serious Chinese-style show, but it turned out to be really funny and somewhat crappy, but not in a bad way. Some of the dialogue and scenes, though serious at times, were really laden with downright spastic and slapstick content. And the funnier thing is that it might not have been intentional hahar. It was, on the whole, not too bad though. Stuff that homes should have on standby so that visitors can watch on occasions like Chinese New Year.

What really sucked was whenever the Chinese actors and actresses had English dialogue. What's more painful than that is when Jet Li and Jackie Chan both engage in English dialogue coversation.

Liu Yi Fei is quite alluring in a 耐看 kinda way. Her prettiness just grows on you.

We then headed down to the airport to send Yitwen off, forming the biggest fanclub in the house that day. Dude's headed down to Dubai for 3 weeks at least for his business study mission trip. After which we had quite a neat impromptu BBQ-cum-steamboat dinner at Rachel's place.

There was more running around today - meeting Chinhong at Seng Kang, getting my laptop sponge casing at Ang Mo Kio, then meeting Mikaela and Isaac to get the KL trip tickets - and there'll be more running around tomorrow.




Failure is not an option; it comes bundled with the software.

Audio Candy:
Tenacious D Vs Sum 41 - Things I Want

Class Part Is Out, Class Party Is In!

I recall awhile back when Yitwen and I were having this conversation that surrounded the central rhetoric of the cutthroat nature of life and studies in general in SMU. Forget back-stabbing - of the front-stabbing in a class I will refrain from disclosing, I remember his resigned exclamation, "damn real world man... Bring it on." Not that he's a particularly self-centred GPA-slut, but he was quite driven to that height of angered sentiment like most others would and hence perpetuate that good ol' vicious cycle of self-centred, heartless reciprocity.

I guess when friendship means nothing to people in the pursuit of grades (which, to me, is quite the school-version parallel to money/status/etc in the real world), then they've really got nothing to lose.

I've seen some of this myself. Some people are seriously willing to cut off ties in a bid to up their GPAs. And that's just the passive bit and isn't quite the worst yet. Further down this road of social decadence, some either exploit their friends, like hooking up long-lost 'buddies' just because it is known that those friends have taken a similar module before and have the exam answers, or they find means to kill off competition by sabotaging their friends' presentations or work, or withholding help and assistance when their friends need it. Shit happens, and then many don't know who to trust anymore.

Merits, and consequently grades and exams, are a necessary evil, but they matter as long as the purpose and goodwill of their rationale is kept intact. When people start resorting to unscrupulous ways - and you can be damned sure people will given the opportunity - just to stay ahead in fear and cowardice, it can be a really detestable aberration of matters.

That's why I've never bothered to rationalise with the idea of the importance of grades. In fact, I spend more time rationalising why it is better when grades don't matter, and that stuff seems to make greater sense. To me, at least, based on the things I've seen and my subsequent understanding from personal experience, grades are far too plastic and inherently material and obsessable in nature. Grades are the kinds of things that breed theoretical prowess but an inability to apply, the desperate desire for tried-and-tested answers without wanting to really know why, especially when subjected to a largely spoon-fed society like ours. So we get all these multiple-A students who tell me they don't know who Kim Jong Il is.

The major problem with this viewpoint is that I cannot vouch for those who think grades don't matter and know nuts about stuff also. And I'm sure there are a host of other valid counterarguments. And of course, to rationalise that grades don't matter just because you're too lazy to study is plain stupid. But I have digressed too far; I didn't initially want to write about grades anyway.

So the other day, I met Ah Seah, a great colleague I had in the army, who's in SMU too. We were both headed off to our own respective destinations away from school. I might be opening a can of worms here, but sometimes I think it's bad enough if you're from a neighbourhood JC and then you come to SMU, but Ah Seah was, worse, from a polytechnic, and he's trying to slug it out all the same in good ol' wonderful LKC School of Business. So we revisited the social capital of SMU (or lack thereof) in that brief amount of catching up time before we went our ways. From the way he puts it, I know it really hasn't been easy for him.

Last Tuesday, we held a committee meeting to plan for Prof Rahul Sagar's farewell party, titled Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, and codenamed Operation Baguette (for his favourite obsession with French political quirks). It's gonna be very political-science-themed, so we can expect the democratic doughnuts, freedom fries, communist cheese and red, white and blue balloons, and the response thus far has been pretty decent. Last term, my management communications classmates took it on ourselves to come up with a party for Prof Aileen Bong at Früjch as well.

Some of the profs have been organising pot-luck-style class parties this term to commemorate those last-class days as the term came to a close. However, these aren't quite essentially the same. There's some intrinsic social value of the initiative of doing stuff like this coming from the students themselves, and it's really kinda more of that we need. I'm not saying that we should then go on a party-organising frenzy as if it would make school a warmer and friendlier place overnight. But I guess we've gotta do things from the heart.

Stop class participating just for the marks, start doing it because you've really got something of value to contribute. Study because you know you want it, because the knowledge you gain would make you a better, wiser person. And don't lose sight of yourself and your friends in the pursuit of other material gains. This could ultimately be yet another long-winded rhetoric; a new round in the same fight, but it could all be worth it insofar as it articulates for the better.




The human race is faced with a cruel choice: work or daytime television.

Audio Candy:
The Get Up Kids - I'll Catch You

The More I Step Into The Sun, The More I Step Out Of The Light

I think it's really intriguing how an idea, a concept, a thought, an answer, or any revelatory or epiphanic conjecture can suddenly materialise in our heads, only after which we figure out the building blocks that led us to that thought. It's like reverse mathematics, when you get the answer and then figure out what the equation or formula was. Our minds can seem really separate and independent of ourselves this way.

In many instances, from finding out from taking intro classes for subjects that really matter to seeing the other side from behind your own fence, there's just so much I do not know.

Edwin brought the laptop back while I was away during the weekend, so I got home last night and spent quite a bit of time tweaking with the settings and stuff. Then exhaustion really hit and I went to sleep and ended up waking up late today. So that leaves me about an hour left before the paper at 1330h to totally sort out my mess of political science.

But I'm not too worried because sometimes nothing is sweeter than confidence in the ability of your strength in a subject you enjoy.

Liberation is imminent!




In science as in love, too much concentration on technique can often lead to impotence.

Audio Candy:
Petey Pablo - Show Me The Money

Come Down And Waste Away With Me Part II

I've had about 2-3hrs of sleep as I type this (max 4hrs over 2 days, conservative estimate).

As I reread yesterday's entry, I guess I'm in a comparatively much more coherent mental state. Some stuff didn't make sense hahar. 2-3hrs of sleep can be heaven-sent in relative terms. And the shower facility at SIS seriously kicks ass. SIS really has all the goodies.

Last night's Manchester United 2-1 Arsenal game was t3h b0mb. As much as I hate to say it, time and again, Manchester United are the one class act now that nobody can come even half-close to, and nobody has for quite a long while. But I'm looking forward to what Arsenal's youngsters can deliver in the coming seasons.

In other extremely relevant news (especially because this is my blog), Newcastle drew with Portsmouth. Bleh.

In less important news, I just finished my economics paper. Do not try 2 days of minimal sleep before an exam. Mikaela's struggling with 1 day right now as I type. On the bright side - 1 down, 3 to go!




Like most endeavors, life is seriously over-advertised and under-funded.

Audio Candy:
Paramore - Crushcrushcrush

Come Down And Waste Away With Me

I'm into the 2nd day of my crazy pre-exam school stay. I kickstarted it with Mikaela and Angie with The Other Boleyn Girl at Plaza Singapura at 2345h last night, which ended at around 2am, and then we wasted away over books and notes at the Subway benches.

How the adulterous nature of King Henry led to England's breakaway from the Catholic Church and the eventual rise of Queen Elizabeth's reign for 45 years in a very much male-dominated country. Great show for those who love movies pertaining to the intricacies of love, power plays, history and politics.

It's evening now of day 2, where Mikaela and I are gonna watch Arsenal Vs Manchester United later and then thon another night. Econs' at 9am tomorrow.

This sounds somewhat relevant so I'll mention it. We had this old folks' event at Commonwealth we had to attend strategically at around 1+pm in order to snag some important fella who would greatly finance/facilitate our Cambodia OCIP trip. So I just kinda got back to school.

I have no idea what kinda mental state I'll be in tomorrow morning.




Marriage is a romance in which the hero dies in the first chapter.

Audio Candy:
Good Charlotte - Dance Floor Anthem

The Distinction Between Reality And TV

Because I live in a cave now that I don't have a computer at home, I'm forced to seek other sources of entertainment. Newspapers serve to fill time, but they don't quite satisfy the entertainment aspect of things, so I started expending DVDs that I haven't watched yet. Dreamgirls is a pretty good movie. But after 2 days my DVD supply ran out, so last night I ended up watching some Channel 8 drama rerun, titled The Vagrant, which was irritatingly inane, and then I watched America's Next Top Model (some previous cycle), which did serve to entertain within really shallow means, of which I'd admit I lapped up but I'm not proud to do so.

Angie just pointed out what I couldn't put a finger to, so I'll add that it's quite perverse. Kinda like one of those things you despise doing, but you end up enjoying anyway and then hate yourself for liking the thing you despised. But whatever.

I found Sarah VonderHaar quite attractive in a Posh Spice kinda way.

It was interesting; the contestants were given their first photoshoot and they had to portray a political statement, such as anti-fur, pro-choice, vegan, anti-death penalty, pro-gun, etc, whether they agreed with it or not. And the results were quite fascinating; apparently how inspired you are to assert a statement depends a lot on your own ideologies and, to the trained eye, it is very clear when captured in a still frame. Nigel Barker, the photographer, put it quite well: "In a movie you have 100s of lines to bring your message across. In a photograph you have just that one moment." Never knew so much could go into a picture.


When did reality
Become TV?
Whatever happened to
Gameshows, sitcoms
Or the radio or
Springsteen, Madonna
Way before Nirvana?


I'm quite ambivalent about an age defined by reality TV. Along the lines of this age of reality TV, we have the advent of blogs and personality sites as well, amongst other things. Personally, I think that celebrities shouldn't be born out of the reality TV, American-Idol-esque production concept because we get to see them in such a flawed light. This in turn really blurs the traditional distinction between mundane reality and plastic superstardom. It's kinda like how you shouldn't know the past of someone you respect, like a teacher or a pastor. Once you're privy to that knowledge, the ones you look up to, admire and/or respect can become far too ordinary.

I guess I kinda had something like that going when I was in the army. After seeing the depths of loserism some people can succumb to, it does make one wonder what kinda people some of the conventionally-revered persons in society have been before they got there. Especially officers, since they're the ones who often have the resource to become important people in future.

You get to see the worst in potential celebrities as they slug it out backstage on reality TV or when judges spew out all their faults as if they were little kids. Increasingly, celebrities are appearing on personality profile sites like Facebook and Myspace, bringing them far down to earth that they're practically touchable. And on the other hand, normal people are garnering increasing celebrity status through media such as blogs. People also get recognition through talkshows that increasingly wish to propel stories of ordinary people into the public media sphere, such as Oprah, Ellen DeGeneres and Jerry Springer.

I don't really know what's worse. That superstars now are becoming too ordinary, or that the plastic nature of superstardom is invading our normal lives. But if you're talking about the sanctity of being grounded in reality, then the pervasiveness of the celebrity status into the realm of the ordinary does sound like the greater evil, along with it's creeping voyeurism of the public overriding the private.




Discretion is being able to raise your eyebrow instead of your voice.

Audio Candy:
Bowling For Soup - 1985