Heeelllppp!!!
Damn stressed! Sigh and I can't even seem to alleviate the stress by being online or anything... it just gets worse cos I feel guilty for not doing work... Feel a strange sense of mania, like killing lots of people or setting fire to lots of things or something.. Sheesh.
Really need to mug with people. People prevent me from getting stressed cos they provide like a target or goal for me... pacing you know...
Guess I gotta stock up on evening primrose, aromatheraphy crap and maybe even a little non-drowsy painkillers. At least the decaf coffee was a good buy. It wouldn't add to my current jitteryness.
I've been crazy over indian curries too... kept having cravings for that wonderful wonderful cup of chickpea curry at Komala Vilas. It's really warm and crunchy and nice. Who says vegetarian food has to taste bad has never eaten Indian fare. Love the indians. For spice and curries and everything nice.
But seriously this stress problem is getting to me... I've never never never felt so stressed in my entire academic life. And the seconds are literally ticking away. And I wanna study hard and mug like never before. Just that sometimes I even forget to breath, and start binging on foods, and lose my concentration and train of thought when the sugar high ends. This isn't life man. This isn't what I wanna do for the rest of my life. Maybe the world REALLY is overpopulated.
The world's gone mad.
Remember the times we had, remember the songs we sang. Was I too late? Would my words have made a difference? Would you have laughed when you read them? Grinned? Cried? Life's ironic in this way. Love's ironic in this way too. And friendship. What does friendship mean to you anyway?
Haha okay, fine, I should ask that to myself. Still have images of us that day standing next to the drinks stall, talking. Still have images of you running into my room cos you feared ghosts. Still have images of your room, your favourite dolphin, the time we made brownies together, and you telling us how guys should always learn to make brownies for their girlfriends. And all the things you did, and I followed, and you taught me, and I tried to learn. I'm sorry that I took our friendship for granted. I'm sorry that I thought boyfriends would be enough for anyone. I'm sorry that I just neglected you, until the crucial moments before. Sorry for me not being a good enough friend.
Will you forgive me and befriend me again?
To Kenneth:
Walking the rows of dusty memories, swiping them clean with the sweep of an outstretched hand, and letting light fall on them once again, where light once lay, all I see in those dusty windows, are but snippets of what might have been. And the dark leaden glass that seperates then from now seems almost impermeable. Like all old glass, I know it is fragile. In my mind I can see it cracking, a fine spiderweb of lines radiating from the tip of my outstretched finger. But sometimes, that finger may take the whole of my effort to lift. But sometimes, I fear the implosion of the glass from the weight of all those memories. But sometimes, you never really know what lies on the other side.
I gaze at them longingly, never daring to touch, just breathing in the scent of those moments that permeates my being still. I have no need to touch. For those transparent windows might just as well have been reflective mirrors. The memories are there yes, across the glass. But they are also here yes, in me. And I never forget. I just try to.
And so it is, I found another window today. A window that was not of my creation. But the characters in it, alive and breathing, were the characters in my memories, which I now call them dreams. And the emotion, warm and nuanced, like a glass of good brandy, or a beautiful painting, just warmed that silly iceberg heart of mine. I kept reading, page after page, watching the characters in my glass diorama mature and blossom. I kept reading, for that silly iceberg of mine started to sweat tears, for nothing since the day I left that corridor has touched me as much as the time I was in it, living the high life with friends, creating memories that would only last behind platen glass.
Unknowingly, I've already stepped past those rows of windows. Resigned, that the walls seperating here from there, then from now were too fragile to carry my weight. What if I pushed on them one day? What if in my eagerness and haste to return to what I once was, I broke the only thing protecting me from the flood of emotions that would shatter a fragile icebergish heart. Even more worrying. What if the heart melts?
Just knew from Yanwei that her grandma's in hospital. Some urinary tract infection gone bad. I've been thinking about her... worrying more like it, from the lack of news, but there really isn't much that I can do to stop the worrying, and even more, I don't think I should pester Yanwei for updates, don't want her to think too much about it, and don't want her to be bothered as well by a bunch of nosey parkers. Can't imagine how tough it must be for Yanwei. Revisions, schoolwork and a family crisis.
I think that's one of the things I hate in the world. Illness, even though it is such a necessary part of nature, part of the mechanism of death and rebirth. Why do only some illnesses give the dignity to die well, and others don't? Cancer and Aids are much better illnesses to suffer from than SARS or Ebola. There is dignity in death, to prioritize the things you really want to accomplish, and to help other people come to terms with your impending departure than a sudden vanishing trick, leaving a void in the hearts of many, those who knew you, and those who knew you indirectly.
The second is of course, blackmail. I hate manipulation, the hold over someone in order to make him or her do your bidding. In a sense, it's the way people achieve what they want. It's how the teachers and society make us do what society wants. The use of marks to threaten students to study hard, and the withholding of marks if students misbehave or cheat, when marks have no intrinsic value whatsoever, except low marks are a reason for your friends and relatives to look down on you, or your parents to believe you should be studying harder or something. Blackmail takes advantage of the individual concerns of what society thinks of them, and individuals have this impression that they need society to form beautiful images of them and accept them. But this also shackles them to the will of the manipulator, and thus they are not in control of their own fate. And even worse, may be forced into prostitution etc. etc. which society looks down upon.
Life then is also blackmail. It's a choice between two unappealing alternatives. Death and misery, or hard work, after that, old and wasted, only death remains. How many of us gave up our youth willingly, as though we had a choice, but in reality we did not? It's detestable because what we're giving up is life itself, our most valuable asset. And the material benefits that we get, the money, the reputation, the respect, mean nothing when we're dead. I'd rather live a fufilling life and share it with others, tell them about the big big world that exists around us, that the corporations would rather take away, and imprison you in that 2m X 2m cubicle, a jail for your youth.
Straits Times Commentary.
I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the video of an RJ student being ticked of by a teacher making headines in the Straits Times. It seemed utterly below the standards of the Straits Times, which in my recollection, was about timely, responsible, accurate reporting. Frankly, students being ticked off by teachers happen all the time, everywhere around the world. And "secret" filming of a scolding? That's hardly a "private moment". Especially if it took place in a classroom, where all 26 students are present. This is no Chu Mei Feng incident. There is no sex. Only violence. And this violence takes place all the time, in schools all around the world. Where's the news?
The Straits Times reporting so far has been very hazy. Online polls by the Straits Times asked if the student was wrong to record the video secretly, or whether the teacher went overboard can only give meaningful results only if the facts of the case were reported. Which they were not. We hardly know more about the background of the affair except from what we can glean from the video. This is hardly a basis for making a reasonable decision, and further more, this is hardly a criminal case. There is no crime commited here.
So what is the Straits Times trying to tell us? That "secret" filming is wrong? That public posting of a blurred video that only people close to RJC could identify with is criminal? Or that RJC teachers are as a bunch harsh, criminal and violent? Bull. If a crime had been committed, if the teacher had taken violent physical action against the student, the filming of the incident would not be seen as a crime, but as evidence. And it may very well serve as evidence now. No one can dispute that the incident did not happen.
Sandra Davie quotes the teacher as saying "'outdated and irrelevant', 'sly, crafty, old rat', 'You are trying to cover up your insolence, your defiance, your laziness, your apathy, your lethargy and your bad attitude.' Choice phrases. But they do not tell us the whole story. The teacher goes on to tell the student after she has ripped the papers, what was wrong with the choice of articles. She has done her job, abeit in a rather harsh and impolite manner, to provide feedback to the student. She was overly harsh, but there was no crime. Those phrases may be insults, and they may or may not be true. But from the reporting, we hardly know if they are true or false, and thus, we are biased towards the student, believing that the teacher is an outright liar.
The Straits Times is acting here as both judge and jury, when there has been no foul committed. The Straits Times is selectively quoting choice phrases for the sake of sensationalism, reporting on an issue that has no real significance, and not even doing the basic investigative reporting that we so expect from a reliable source of news. What else do we know from the report that we could not have gleaned from the recording? And the readers could have gleaned more from a transcript of the recording itself. Facts were left out. The entire population of Singapore was misled. And even worse, they were invited to take online polls, to phone in and give their opinion on the matter, to take part as an online, invisible jury putting pressure on Raffles Junior College.
Let me frame the story for you Straits Times. If you wish to raise a discussion on hidden filming with modern technology, talk to your neighbourhood private eye. The issue here is not why the hidden filming is unacceptable, and whether it should be outlawed. The technology is there. Phones and digital cameras are smaller than ever before, and they are gaining in popularity, for a bunch of legitimate uses. The issue is why the student's work was so unacceptable as to warrant such an acidic reaction from a GP teacher. She comments that the student was writing about "anti-establishment, unhealty topics", and adds that "and why is teachers giving instructions? To help you, to get on with you work well." That is the real problem, that our education system only accepts establishment ideas, that to score well, the teacher has to promote establishment ideas amongst an intelligent JC populace that has a mind to decide what they are interested in. The students are being brainwashed here, forced to only research "up to date articles", that support the establishment.
The guilty party in this whole fiasco is the Straits Times. With its insensitive reporting, and poor investigative journalism at that, it has caused public humiliation in Singapore of a teacher, and a student. With its inaccurate writing, it has skewed the judgement of the population against these two people. And with its blatant flouting of copyright laws, by reproducing two screen shots from the video which the student holds copyright to, without his consent, and without compensation to the entire Singapore population. Is the sensationalism generated worth disrupting the lives of a teacher, two students and an entire college?
There is nothing to see here folks. Move on.
Read Bob Garfield's book on Advertising titled "And now a few words from me". Quite a good book, discussing bad ad campaigns and why they failed, and why good ad campaigns were good. I read it trying to learn how to sell things I guess, and how to sell myself (to perhaps a few grotty interviewers). It has to do alot with knowing your selling point. Alot to do with promoting the best bits of yourself, and bridging the distance between you and the other person.
Was also thinking today from the viewpoint of someone else. Specifically what games would robots really enjoy. My conclusion was robots really love Chess (all kinds), Mah Jong, and Magic : The gathering. But really, which games can surprise, and provide an equal opportunity for two calculating machines? Chess is already flawed because the person who starts first gets a tempo advantage. Mah Jong benefits the dealer, but the whole game is based very much on luck. Especially if the players are all flawless ( like computers will be). I think Magic is still the closest to flawless with it's mix of chance, and strategy. But until it's better balanced, and the cards are sufficiently varied to carve unthought of combinations out of, it would not be a very suitable game for computers. And uberdecks would surely win, since the cards play themselves. It'll be very hard to change tactics midway, unlike Mahjong or Chess.
I guess it should be based on the system of magic, as well as some freedom in what the cards actually get to do. sort of the one card actually can produce two effects sort.
As to other fronts, just wanted to talk about a certain point that he makes. That much of advertising is really self serving. Like the episode of a company donating 125,000 dollars to some impoverished nation, while spending 6 million on the ad campaign publicizing their deed. How much of money is spent to make ourselves look good, and how much of us is actually good. I don't know. I know I spend nothing promoting myself. I don't even make an effort to behave in a generally accepted manner so as to gain acceptance. (or so someone claims. But I do try to sometimes. Just not very hard.) I mean no matter how much or how hard we try to be someone else, or to do things your friends do, in the end, the person your friends accept isn't you. But a fascimile of themselves.
Oh yes I remember one of the good good points he makes. The cliche of being rule breakers. About how most companies that break the rules PURELY for the sake of breaking rules usually fails. Rules are there for a reason. He talked about how Shakespeare managed wonderful poetry in spite of being restricted to iambic pentameter, how blank pieces of paper were the most intimidating things in the world to artists. And I wondered, if it weren't for the supremely restrictive Singapore education system, would we be what we are today? And perhaps, without the limitations of technology, or culture, or even freedom (ala the Matrix), can we even rise above a caveman like existence?
Strangely, after a harrowing dinner, and lovely lovely titanic, I have no more thoughts left to write.
Some things cannot be written, but can only be seen and felt with the heart. And I know no way of sharing my heart with you all.
More Cycling
I actually typed in www.bicycle.com instead of blogger.com but stopped myself in the nick of time. :) Just had a little cycle trip of my own since friends weren't really free today, or had other programmes. But it was rather enjoyable... the slow pedalling and finally taking pictures again after so long so long.
I'm convinced that my girlfriend should know how to cycle and love exploring. And maybe even love photography. But she'll be a hard catch man...
Took the old bicycle out today, cos I didn't wanna worry about the bike getting stolen when I wasn't keeping my eye on it (e.g when my eye's in the camera). Besides my pissedness, at staying indoors the whole morning (also cos the day didn't look good enough for cycling), I was really really slow on the bike cos I didn't want to fall, and because the old bike was creaky and rusty anyway, and I didn't wanna break it. All of a sudden felt very threathened by the traffic around me. Guess my balls are proportionate to the size of my bike, and that's why big businessmen spend all their fortune on big cars, and finally end up bankrupt with small balls. Or the balls swelled too big and burst. I don't know... just kept thinking weird thoughts throughout the cycling trip
I detest the use of the phrase shutterbugs. What's so buggy about photographers? We don't have six appendages, we don't buzz all around the place, we don't have compound eyes (even though sometimes I wish I did) and we don't have hairy feet! of course not me! I do admit, the cameras sometimes click and whir, but that's the camera! not us! why don't you call the cameras camerabugs, since they're used for all sorts of purposes nowadays in lockers and changing rooms and what have you.
Oh got a nice silverish LAMY fountain pen. Nice to write and all, and best of all, found this shop with 30% off! three zero! off all fountain pens, cos they're moving next door. Silly silly them.
