Holidays are so...BLAH. They're largely welcomed by well, everyone, I suppose. But the thing is, though they provide the well-needed reprieve they bring with them the bane that is boredom, for me anyway. Yet, we moan and groan when its end draws near.
So the holidays are drawing to a close and only God knows how I can survive the next few blocks until November 26. Yes, I'm sick and tired of them holidays but I'm already counting down. It's so ironic that if we found a way to extract the iron from "ironic", it could last forever. And my mum was asking me why on earth we have an iron block lying in the middle of my room. But I couldn't answer cause I had already been crushed by it. If you were, or are, rather, wondering how I can even be typing this if I'd been crushed by an iron block, well, don't. In any case. -Insert unfunny joke about ironic, iron, cutting-it-with-a-knife and whatnot-
I'll be having PComD next block, just ONE module, which I'm of course much grateful [and I was wondering why 'greatful' isn't a word. Stupidity.] for. It's just that when it comes to things like this, it's like a disaster that has been averted for the course of next month and when the month after next arrives, well, it'll be a 'good-luck-and-prayer' month for me, if you get my drift.
And for the un-informed, PComD is Professional Communications for Designers. If I got that right anyway. A fancy-schmancy name for English class. The last time there was something similar was ComDI ie. Communicating Design Ideas ie. English class. Of which concluded with, if memory serves me well, a 2000 word essay submission and some other stuff. So NOT looking forward to PComD.
To top it off with a cute, quaint, chemically enhanced cherry that stays in your body for 10 years, or so I've heard, our classes have been shuffled. So I won't be aquatinted with majority of the class.
Having only one module only leaves for trouble cause if I only have one now, then surely I'd have two next month and when I do, I will be in a class where I won't know anyone cause the majority of my classmates, or ex-classmates rather, have two modules this coming block. It's sad really. Pretty much screwed.
On a completely different note, the chinese saying that "No one is ugly, only lazy", or something to that effect, rings completely true. Maybe if I were less lazy and actually did some OTHER form of exercise apart from breathing, I might actually look better. At least slightly anyway. Like maybe if I did 500 pushups followed by 500 crunches, and 1000 jumping jacks followed by a 42km jog, I might shave off 2kg. Provided I haven't already died in the process, like after 2 pushups or 3 crunches or 12 jumping jacks or 100m jog, which ever comes first.
As crazy as it sounds, I'm looking a jogging italics[kah-ki]/italics [found a new way to italicize] that can run on a regular basis, like once a year week and doesn't actually require me to travel and can jog somewhere quiet, VERY quiet. This pretty much reduces the list to like. none. Oh well.
And remember kids. Exercise kills like how smoking and AIDS does, but just in a slower and more painful way. But hey, that's the price for being skinny, or anywhere near skinny anyway.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Order Of The Stick II
And I forgot to mention, again, that I've finished OrderOfTheStick for the second time, thus effectively rendering me even more bored than I was before I started reading it again.
Someone please tell me to get a life.
Attempts On Her Life
Severely overdue but here it is anyway.
Caught (there I was thinking why there isn't a word 'catched') a play with Rebecca the not-so-other-day. Like, last-last sunday. Anyway, it was for one of Beck's papers. And to help her out, here's a critique from a not-so-critic critic. Just my 2 cents and lots of salt from your part.
Attempts On Her Life is about well, "Her" she is known as Anne/Annie and a few other names all of which start with 'A' and all of which I can't remember. She starts off having a affair with some guy, with members of the ensemble narrating as if telling a story, or rather, writing a story about her. In the course of the play, we eventually learns that She is also a terrorist, a world traveller who carries a big, red bag that's filled with stones, a little girl, prostitute, physicist, self-mutilating "artist" etc. Heck, there even comes a point where She's a vehicle, specifically which kind, I'm not so sure cause it sounded like either a plane or a car to me while to Becks, it was a ship of sorts.
Throughout the 17, yes you read right, 17, scenarios, all of which are seemingly unrelated though a few of them actually make sense if you put them together, She seldom appears and on the occasions that She does, She is portrayed by different cast members. Perhaps to make it even the more obvious that "she could be any one of us", as one of the characters narrates. The ensemble of international actors/actresses and dialogues in their respective mother tongues serves only to amplify the fact that She could refer to any of us and opens a gigantic umbrella that covers EVERYONE be you Korean, Indian, Chinese, English, American or whatnot.
Come to think of it, the title of the play's kinda like a pun. Literally, attempts to on Her life or how they're trying to "write" Her. Okay, I'm not making any sense.
What else was interesting was the use of live video feeds in the play itself, which is new to me cause one wouldn't expect a theatrical play to adopt the use of cinematic elements. Also, it being an informal play of sorts kept things interesting. There was also a particular scenario in which there were periodical blast from a horn, followed by " SILENCE" being flashed on the wall. What proceeded next was quite disturbing, with four of the casts reading simultaneously that effectively peeled off my skin with the quad-tonal result that they were going for. Think dual-tone, times 2. Duh. But i think it was really cool. What else was interesting was the use of an international cast and their respective mother tongues like I mentioned before.
Much to my surprise, there wasn't an intermission which wasn't so much of a surprise when the play eventually started. Yes, go ahead, cut the irony with a knife. Whatever. I kinda liked the play though it didn't really make sense at the end of it all and what I think is that not many people will like plays like this, which brings me back to the point of there being no intermission. The way I see it, if there were, a third of the say 20 would have left. That's what I think anyway. Either that or an intermission would just anti-climax-size the whole thing.
In any case, I think it was money well spent. Was a new experience for me.
Okay fine, as it appears, it really isn't a critique and I'm not as much of a critic as I would like myself to be. More of like a review. Okay, not. More of like a terrible shot at something. Hoho. Oh well.
Sorry Becks! This is like the best I can do. Pray it helps. =x
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Order Of The Stick
I forgot to mention but the OrderOfTheStick is back!
And since I have nothing else better to do, I shall start form, well, the start. AGAIN!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I went with WeiYen and WuChong for the Waseda Shibuya Senior High School for the school's 17th Annual Festival. It was fun, though slightly stifling. Okay, who am I kidding? It was VERY. All I can say is that at the end of it all, I can only conclude that the Japanese are good at everything.
They are smart, good looking, have a good dress sense, are athletic, musically inclined, artistically inclined, innovative, creative, enterprising, enthusiastic, and the whole nine yards. Oh, and did I mention that they're very good looking.
AND, they come up with amazing shows like BLEACH, of which some lame ass company is trying to stop everyone from watching cause they're unhappy that people refuse to buy their lousily-subbed, poor quality with no QC whatsoever and not to mention over-priced VCDs,
You could basically tell the Japanese teens apart from the Singaporean teens. Let's see. The Japanese were a thousand times better looking and they didn't have to meddle with their hair or whathaveyous and they walked with a stride that displayed their confidence that doesn't go into overdrive. They're all possibly linked but that makes one hell of a chain don't you think?
If their chains are like normal chains, they would be as weak as their weakest link but the way I see it, they aren't.
THEY HAVE NO WEAK LINKS AT ALL!
Things like these make me wish I were someone else. Preferably Japanese.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Random Thoughts XV
BEE TAI MAK
It's a kind of noodle-like, vermicelli-cum-kwuaytiao, carbohydrate providing food
I personally bear no grudge against the humble, plain-to-the-tastebuds, slimy, noodle-like, vermicelli-cum-kwuaytiao, carbohydrate providing "bee tai mak". But is an ancient force the "bee tai mak" reckons with, a force capable of driving the whole family up the wall, a force of which I do not particularly hate nor dislike, just get VERY irritated with very so often, meaning, EVERYDAY.
Conversation with said ancient force.
[Of which takes place in this thing called, no doubt, "CHINEEEEEEESE", pronounced CHAI-NISSSSSSSSSSSS, which also happens to be something very ancient, but I shall leave THAT to another day. Heeding the gah-men's advice that we need to embrace globalization and whatnot, said conversation shall be in English, to cater to a global audience.]
Me: Why is there so much BEEEEEEEEEEE TAI MAK in my bowl?
[I had initially wondered why there was a cauldron placed at my seat, until I realised it was my bowl.]
Ancient Force: No, there's not a lot of it. It's actually very little.
Me: NO, [I firmly insisted], there is a [HELL] lot.
[HELL obviously belonged no where near the conversation so it stayed that way, in brackets.]
*cue me scooping out BEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TAI MAK out of the cauldron the bowl.
There is one point I have to make before we can move on.
One Point: I ABSOLUTELY ABHOR people touching me. Much less POKE. I do NOT understand why people POKE, using the finger of course. It is rude and obtrusive in every sense of the word. Neither do I appreciate people tapping me in a forceful way. If you really must get my attention, it will be wise to first get to know my name, and use it. In the circumstance that I appear to be deaf, give my shoulder a quick, LIGHT tap. Surely my sense of touch and hearing will not leave me at the same time.
And for the record, the only person so far that has managed to get my attention through means of a tap is my mother. And maybe a few other people that have done so while my attention wasn't on my shoulders.
In any case, possibly one OTHER thing I abhor more than people prodding me from my sleep is how people state the obvious or rather, state something else when it is obviously untrue, like how there was enough BEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TAI MAK to feed the entire continent of Africa swimming in the cauldron I had for a bowl and still get people insisting that no, it is in actual fact, very little. In retrospect, it was indeed little, if you were thinking of feeding the whole of China.
And I can no longer type in italics without them turning our like this and it gets irritating. In any case, use your imaginations a little and think of which words I'd italicize. Like for example, gah-men, and all other words that originate from dialect and Singlish.
Random Thoughts XIV
It is apparent that my posts no longer flow and more often than not, make no coherent sense.
And my English has gone down the drain. MsBalan, I fear thy effort hast surely been in vain.
I fear I'm stupidify-ing.
Not For Anything In The World. Okay. Maybe
I'm so sick of myself. It's like, I really really want to do things at times, like finish my assignments for example, but I just keep procrastinating. There's a will, and there's a way, but there's also procrastination and sloth for me.
I realised just the other day that I engage in hobbies that I'm not even conscious of, like say, people-watching. It's fun and occupying in a weird, weird way. Then comes the next step, whereby I wish I looked like someone else.
What would I give to look like someone else?
Maybe it's just me being politically correct or whatnot but if a change in looks would result in a change in some random aspect of my life then I'd rather stay somewhat ugly and live the life I'm living now. I won't give shit to look like someone else. Okay, so maybe I would, but anything other than that's strictly non-negotiable.
Then again, maybe there ARE things that I would be willing to part with. Something of the material world perhaps. I won't be bringing them with me anywhere after I'm dead anyway.
Conclusion: I'm pretty happy with my life now. Note the word "PRETTY". With regards to what I'm pretty discontented about, it's for me to know and for you to find out.
- 3 more days to end of block, ie HOLIDAY - 5 more days to next post from the guys at GiantInThePlayground - 12 more days to release of DarkPassionPlay, Nightwish's new album, featuring Anette. Poor Tarja. - 17 more days to shippment of iPodTouch
Monday, September 03, 2007
As I lie in my bed, my mind always wonders. ALWAYS. Which gets irritating most of the time. And I can't help it by it just happens. And many a times I get to think about the subjunctive.
I fall asleep amidst the thinking which always ends up on the borders of brooding but what difference does it make?
Sometimes all the brooding translates into dreams which are always interesting. I suppose what they say about dreams being the subconscious's metaphysical manifestations carry enough weight after all, enough for me to believe anything of it anyway.
I had this strange dream the other day. Eh. Night. It revolved around the somewhat recent decision many of us had to make. I dreamt that I, by the by, decided that Poly life wasn't for me and I appealed, much to my surprise of sorts, to well well, SAJC. And I got in. Wow. And It is only in a twisted dream, a very twisted dream, that JC guys have to wear shorts that might as well have been mini shorts and shin-high socks to match.
As if it weren't already enough, the brooding translated itself into a dream that had a lot of brooding and when I say 'lot', I mean A LOT. If all the brooding were contained, there would be enough to last the world an eternity and two times over, all of which revolved around the concerns I had whilst I was still considering JC as 'The Other Choice'.
Also was the fact that the promos are drawing near which happens to be true, by the by. One requisite was for me to pass all my subjects of which I had to start right from well, the start as compared to the other J1s. It was absurd. Even for a dream. So I called out to a teacher:
"But it's impossible!"
"Not really, you still have time to study. All you have to do is pass your promos."
"Which is in less than a month!"
"Ah. RIght. Have fun."
Well, so much for that. As it appeared, the brooding was brought right through the night. Through the before-sleep-brooding, to the in-dream-brooding, to the aftermath-brooding. All the brooding. I wonder what all of this means...