Life's Little Destruction Book

This Isn't The Blog You're Looking For

2006-09-29T14:39:00.000-07:00

Move along, move along.

Nothing more to see here. I would tell you my new blog address, but that would simply be too embarrassing for me. Ask me if you really want to know. Or if you want to laugh at me.

Lefort BSSO

2006-03-20T19:32:00.000-08:00

I’m in so much pain right now.

The past few days have been nothing less than a world of hurt. It really wouldn’t be an understatement to say that I have not known this much suffering on a personal level prior to this.

The operation is called a Lefort BSSO – bilateral sagittal split something-or-another. Basically they make incisions from within your face, saw your bone here and there, pull your front jaw forwards using titanium plates, and shift your lower jaw backwards using titanium screws. It’s every bit as painful as it sounds.

Having always thought of myself as having a mostly sound mind before this, my self-confidence has been thoroughly shaken. I have no idea how many times and how close I was bordering on the edge of madness, but rest assured I had a chance to explore those boundaries on a very personal level. I spent the first few days after the operation crying from the pain, the shock, the sheer regret. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that a lot of me is regretting it now. Had I known beforehand what I was to go through I probably would not have gone through it at all. But that phase is past – now it’s about enduring the recuperation period.

You have no idea what it feels like to be woken up in the middle of the night several times, to be injected with huge syringefuls of the colourless anti-biotics – they feed it through your IV drip into your arm, this 3 inch long plastic tubing that is attached to your arm, into your vein for several days. They pump in so much of the liquid that you’ll swear you can taste and smell it as it flows in via the drip. There is no dignity nor mercy from the cathether – it is every bit as painful and unforgiving as it looks. They don’t actually tell you the precise moment they remove it from your body because the shock would be too great otherwise. I only remember that I burst out in tears at that moment. The wailing, the crying, the feverishly hot pillows wrapped in plastic all congeal to form the backdrop of an ongoing nightmare. So… many… needles.

The psychological burden is huge. Not being able to open your mouth for a few weeks may very well bring a person to insanity by itself. I can’t swallow anything less fluid than water. Porridge is out of the question. This has not only led to extremely low stamina but also severe demoralization not unlike that during a field camp. In addition your face swells to around twice it’s normal size – I wince whenever I look in the mirror because it looks as though I’ve put on about twenty kilos in the past few days. It doesn’t help that I can’t feel half of my face because it’s totally numb. It’s just sick that you can feel your face using your hands while your face itself can’t rationalize it.

That’s all the focus I have to write with. Need a break before I pass out. I’m this close from going stark-raving mad.

P.S. Thank you to those who visited me, as well as those who wanted to visit me but were deterred by my insistance. I think your ongoing support has played a major role in keeping me sane, and I am very grateful for that. Thanks to my brother's friends for the flower as well, and to the guys for visiting me after my operation - I can only apologise for barely being conscious enough to flip you guys off at that point of time. Lastly thank you to the people in camp, who think of me enough to ask me about my status and to get me to endorse my MC despite the fact that I'm so weak that I can barely leave the house. I kid. Thank you all for your concern and support!

Why hello there

2006-03-08T05:57:00.000-08:00

Wow, it’s been five whole months since I updated. This is for you people who have never stopped believing that I would eventually write something here again. Yes, all two of you.

I don’t write much because I simply haven’t had anything of interest happening within the past few months. Either that, or because I am lazy as hell, and I don’t actually enjoy writing anymore. I was actually invited to write for some rather comical website hosted by some of my acquaintances – but having noticed the rather bleak tone of my writing of late I decided that that would not be entirely fitting. Anyway, nothing particularly fancy has popped up in the past few months. I did attend the DT concert, which was, well, an experience. I wouldn’t exactly use the word fun, but it was an evening of unmatched virtuosity - I wouldn’t expect anything less. It was the first rock concert I have ever attended. A real mosh, and people taking drugs or something – not something I can claim to witness every other day. I also got body surfed against my will at some dinner and dance event, which was, similarly, a new experience for me.

The few things in my life that matter have not so much changed, as evolved over time. My applications for accommodation in Nottingham have been submitted. Basically, everything is prepared. I am ready to leave. My aunt is picking up winter clothing from me and sending it over. My accommodation is settled and so is my research regarding the campus life there. I have done whatever I can to ensure that I will be properly settled in and taken care of once I leave.

This is the last time I am applying for NUS law. I have come to terms with the fact that they do not think I am good enough for them. I will try again, of course – and this time I will actually prepare for it. I have actually applied so many times that I have managed to formulate certain interview formats. I have only one complaint – why do we adopt an admission system whereby we only: 1) look at results or 2) screw the applicants over, and see how they handle themselves from there? Why can we not follow the other top universities in the world, who treat their applicants with a larger amount of dignity? Is it so unbearable to pursue a system that actively questions the latent knowledge and thought process of a person, rather than tear them down and see how they react?

Ironic as it is, UK is my contingency plan. This time, the stakes are all real – no more ‘oh well I’ll try again next year’. It’s either there or here. There are a few role models to me in this aspect – people who have left their homes to pursue some goal or dream somewhere over the oceans. I now know why I respect them so much. I used to think that I respected them because they dared to dream, and that they dared to pursue that dream in spite of everyone else. I was wrong. I respect them because they have the wisdom and experience to tell them that what they are doing is right; that they are the people who are strong enough to break out from their figurative shackles, the ball and chain, and whatever inertia it is that people experience when they consider moving. These are the people who are strong enough to fight for what they believe in. So many of us believe, but so few of us ever have that resolve to do it.

It is probably just me that thinks this, but I think I share many commonalities with Dr. House from House M.D., less the whole genius part. I think I am sufficiently cynical, and possess the necessary distaste for the rest of the world. What do you think?

I am leaving the army soon. It has been a long and painful two and a half years, but I would be lying if I said that it did not have its benefits. The army is enjoyable in a sense. If you come here expecting to experience real and physical sensations of happiness, you will leave disappointed and empty. That is not what I mean by enjoyable – what I mean is that it is simply two whole years of nothingness. Pure, unadulterated nothingness. For two years you are kept in a self-contained bio-dome, peering out at the world, seeing the things that happen outside, but knowing that nothing you do inside here will ever affect the world outside. It is a real feeling you have to experience in order to understand. I hesitate to use the word ‘honeymoon’, but that is exactly what it is. Being transported to a faraway place where you can do whatever you want without a worry in the world. Unless, of course, you manage to get yourself charged. You learn and see things here, and they change you. You realize the nature of people, and you learn to use them as mirrors to view your own flaws. You will mellow out. Your tolerance will skyrocket. You will learn to feign diligence. Even a conservative person like me has learnt the fine art of nonchalance. It is imperative that you learn to not care – because no one will ever reciprocate such courtesy.

I have made the astute observation that the number of friends I have is inversely proportional to the amount of gadgetry I acquire. That is unfortunate as I happen to like gadgetry. I can’t decide whether that has something to do with my increasing general disdain for humanity as a whole, or the engulfing, inviting feeling of the media. Perhaps they are substitutes for one another. Anyway, I have learnt to embrace media as a whole. I guess it is only appropriate that as I spend less money on friends, I have more purchasing power for my gadgetry. It is almost a comforting feeling, and I can’t for the life of me explain why. I have actually reached a point where I carry less than half of my toys around simply because I am afraid of getting mugged.

I have recently purchased a PSP and new headphones. My ER-6i died on me. Anyway, I really hope they start making games for the PSP sometime soon, because last I heard, it was supposed to play games.

I go in for surgery next week. Seven days from today. Lots of people have asked me whether I am afraid, excited, etc. I always give the same reply: it’s going to happen anyway, so I am not going to will myself into feeling anything that I should be feeling. At the time of writing, I am still not feeling any particularly definitive emotion. My feelings are a maelstrom of vague fears, nervousness, and even anticipation. It is a major operation that is supposed to last some 4.5 hours. I hear some spinal operations take over 2 hours. I don’t know what to make of that. I am not going to elaborate on the nitty-gritty details of the operation, but it is sufficiently gruesome. Suffice to say I am somewhat numb to that after having been poked and prodded by multitudinous needles and wires over the past few months. I have seen so much blood being drawn from my body, but somehow it still terrifies me every time I see that crimson life leaving my body. I suppose it was fortunate that they chose to leave out these details before I started my special brace treatment. If I had to do this all again with the knowledge of what was to come on the way there, I would probably have second thoughts. I have been through too much to turn back. My lips are cracking, my mouth is afflicted with cuts and tears, and I have been playing host to several raging ulcers at every point of time in the past few months. I have suffered enough – and next week is what I have gone through all this for.

Probation plates are expensive

2005-11-19T09:11:00.000-08:00

I am now a qualified driver. Yay.

I realise it has been something like two months since I last updated - in part due to my total computer reformat, and in part due to sheer laziness in two aspects, the first being that I can't even be bothered to reinstall Office, and the second, being that I'm just too lazy to update, really.

Had my driving test yesterday. What fun. I didn't tell anyone about the details of my test. Heck, even my parents didn't know when my test date was - simply because I am not overly fond of getting unnecessary attention over things which I am not actually comfortable with. Last thing I need is to fail my test and get something twelve messages asking, 'So how was it...' and soon after, 'ROFLS U NUB, U FAILD!!!!! *GUFFAW*!!'.

So anyway, interesting test. I mounted the kerb twice in - get this - the first five minutes. No lie. First course was the S-course. Let's face it, nobody ever screws that up. I have never screwed it up. In fact, when I struck the kerb, my mind didn't even rationalise it. All I thought was: 'hmm... did I... nah, impossible.' Such that I wasn't even aware of what to do next. So anyway, moving on, I struck the kerb on the next event - vertical parking. Once again, who the heck strikes a kerb during vertical parking?! At this point of time I was ready to bang my head repeatedly on the center of the steering wheel in the hope that the combination of the siren and airbag inflating simultaneously would knock me out so hard that I would fly back into yesterday. With four demerits left to spare, I had to complete the second half of the circuit, and the road section flawlessly, a feat so ridiculous that I should have given up then and there and laughed my way back home.

But somehow, I managed to pull it off. Or the invigilator was being merciful for some reason. Either way - Yay.
Not that I have a car to drive. My father has hinted that I might get a chance to touch the BM once in awhile, but I was not to go anywhere near the contraption my brother drives. Not as though I want to. In fact, I have no desire to go near either car, seeing that they probably have numerical values that are worth more than several of my lives ($12). Anyway, that is a burden I am glad to get off my back.

What else has been happening - aside from the usual irritation at work which I have no desire to talk about - what else, what else. Ah, I watched Harry Potter with the gang. Good movie, a bit rushed, but I don't envy having the task of compressing one of the most celebrated novels in the series into a two-and-a-half hour feature. It is best to watch the show with real potter-scholars, as I have discovered. My knowledge of the subject, admittedly, is none too shabby, but not to the depth to which Weibin understands the series. Nevertheless, the reason I love watching movies with these guys is undoubtedly the post-movie segment; the supremely elitist and geeky part where we dissect the movie like rabid wolverines, tearing it apart and devouring it hungrily. We are not the controversial kinds who seek to be anti-establishment whenever we can - we are the truthful philosophers who always see things in the larger scheme of things, and question the purpose of the presentation as a whole. Quite simply, we are snobs who read too deeply into things that probably never had the intention of having that sort of depth. And we love it. Or at least, I do.

I also think that I may be a pedophile. Don't quote me on that.

Jamie Cullum is brilliant. I love most of his new album, I dislike a little bit of it, specifically the slow songs. Jem is pretty good stuff, charming, simple, and she has a pretty awesome voice. Some of it is a little abstract, though. And WB is right about Jewel - what's up with her? All I can say is, Intuition can be a bad thing.
I have literally spent days learning the basic formula of jazz from the many resources I have gathered over the past weeks, under the influence of the drum legend LC himself. I am thankful for the exposure, and sorry that I have reached a point that only talent can take me past. And that, I have a total drought of. However, it has been good fun, and I will continue working on it, simply because I pride myself in being different. In being a musician who understands what I'm doing, and wanting to do something because I love the subject, and not because I'm a poser. Even if I can't do it, I will continue to persevere.

I have bought tickets to the Dream Theater concert. Yay. I am not a rocker by nature, but I have an appreciation for the technical arts. And that, they have in abundance, to be sure. The fact that they are not one of those 'WOO! THROW UP THE DEVIL HORNS!' bands makes it that much sweeter.

I am presently reading Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, having bought a few more of his books recently at some place having a 3 for 2 offer. Charming, very charming. He is a fascinating writer who writes with more flair and wit than most of his peers. Brilliantly creative, clashing, innovative, daring. Developed and vivid imagery, fused with unlikely elements that are, at once, totally absurd in it's contrast, and yet totally startling in it's spontaneity. A brilliant writer who deserves a lot more attention than some of the media-whoring writers of today.

That is all, I think! I really need a pensieve. That would be an awesome Christmas present.

Paranoia out.

Précis

2005-10-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

It's late, I'm not particularly eloquent, and I really can't be bothered to rephrase sentences coherently, so this will probably not read smoothly at some places. I will simply jot this down in the exact order it comes out of my head, expression and phrasing intact. Well, basically, as I normally write these things.

There’s this jap song that sounds like a Happy Tree Friends theme. Also, J-Pop Hits (a concert band piece) is comprised of three songs – the first being typical, the second called ‘White Breath’, and sounding exactly like a news station weather report theme song, and the third, comprising entirely of some strange symbols that your computer produces when lacking the codec to translate a foreign language, sounds vaguely like, ‘IAYE YUEGH’ (no lie), or a guttural throat clearing noise.

Anyway.

I’ve got a pretty close friend who’s kinda studying for his ‘A’ levels right now, and watching him inspires some amount of nostalgia, and envy – thoughts of the past, memories of camping the MacDonald’s with the 3B gang, solving the ‘brain teasers’ which MCDs put up everyday, with the promise of free ice cream to anyone who could solve their ‘mindboggling’ puzzles; let’s just say that we couldn’t have eaten any more ice cream without passing out from the sugar overdose. Memories of Lionel hugging a stretch ball bigger than my entire body mass, and how it must have looked to any passer-by watching him lug it back home; memories of the abomination made out of McDipper containers, empty drink cups, and forks (damn you for pushing all the crap over onto me, Gary!!!) ; memories of trying to psycho the guys to stop studying and come over to my house for a ‘little’ R&R. I swear, I could have gotten a perfect score if not for that.

Then, sitting down next to him, and gazing over his past-year papers, bearing the Raffles crest, suddenly filled me with all sorts of dread and fear, and some amount of relief, the ‘holy crap I never want to see another trigonometry question as long as I live’ feeling. I guess retrospect is always 20/20 – you filter out all the things you don’t want to remember and cherish only the best things you experienced back then, keeping the memories most precious to you sealed in that little alcove in your mind, away from the cerebrovascular cleaners and erosion of time. Trying to relive them will only unearth the horrors that you want nothing more than to keep suppressed. But my my, how time has flown by.

After getting into the sight-reading mode again, I’ve managed to resusticate some amount of a previous passion for concert playing – I have discovered that the area I am totally and utterly sick of is undoubtedly within the March genre. I never want to play another damn march for as long as I live. I’m tired of the mindless repetition and symmetrical trios – marches are barely a type of music as much as an accompaniment for moving around pointlessly from place to place, following a rhythm for some unfathomable reason with a tempo that is derived from the fact that we have an even amount of legs. All I want to play are concert pieces – and having been given a chance to do so over the past few days over our well-deserved lull period, I’ve begun to realize the comfort and security in what I grew up learning as a musician – like a womb, the concert band has always been the warm, nurturing place that I developed my potential and unraveled the mysteries of the note. The pressures of expression, dynamics and improvisational reading are the essential facets of music which elevate the experience, not hamper it – unlike the parade, where the lethargy of the mid-day sun, the searing heat, humidity, and sheer boredom are poor companions to music-making. Once again, sitting down to play familiar and unknown pieces alike, I am reminded of my true roots – reminded by my peers, especially, of what genre of music I was born to appreciate, of the genre I was trained to craft and mold with my intuition and experience. I regain my confidence in the band room because I know that everything I have learnt has enabled me to face any challenge in this respect with all my wisdom and confidence, confidence in the stability and superiority of my training. How I’ve missed that feeling.

In line with that, I’ve decided that I’m sick and tired of wasting these precious years of my life here, and hence, have formulated ‘Operation Parasite Eve’ – a complex project which will, according to my schematic, unfold over the next six months. It is a project with the sole intention of utilizing the resources at my disposal to achieve one specific goal – the pursuit of knowledge. Having visited our library many times – and I might add, one of the best music libraries in the country – has made me realize how silly I’ve been all this time. To be surrounded by literally thousands of catergorised and meticulously organized scores, from the archaic to the super-modern, to all sorts of technique guides, exam references, music encyclopedias is not something just any musician can lay claim to. I have that fortune, just that I’ve never once thought about appreciating it. Starting today I compiled a seriously long list of pieces from ‘the Catalogue’, as I call it – a list detailing every piece I’d played before, and pieces with percussion parts I am interested in – and have decided that over the next few months, I’ll devote my time and resources to obtaining them to enrich my personal library at home. I’ve always celebrated knowledge as a percussionist, and all my close friends know that. I have little respect for people who can play well, but lack the technical knowledge to appreciate fully what they are playing. Of course, I will seek full permission and endorsement for this – trying otherwise is suicide.

LC seemed to detect a sudden thirst for knowledge within me, and immediately invited me over to his studio to browse through his personal library, generously extending an invitation to me to borrow scores, with the promise of returning it eventually. That was a honour far greater than I deserve – LC, one of the greatest and most talented percussionists I know, inviting me to view his source material? I spent the next two hours receiving a personal drumset master-class from the legend himself, and asked him questions about the different source books he used, what he recommended, technical demonstrations and applications, and any doubts that leapt to mind. He resolved them all with his usual carefree attitude, and later added that I shouldn’t be so disheartened at not being at a professional standard, saying that what is more important is that I do it because I like it, not because I want to be the best. That meant something I guess, coming from him, the percussionist with the impeccable knowledge I’ve come to trust wholeheartedly over the past year. Anyway, I managed to filter out a large stack of material which I deemed useful to me – criteria being, firstly that he recommended it, and secondly, that I would actually have a decent chance of learning it over the duration of my lifetime. Most of the material failed the second one. But it was an incredible haul nonetheless – carrying only what I could, I promised that I would be back very soon for the rest.

As for the material I did manage to carry back – let’s just say $30 worth of photocopies at 5 cents a page is a lot of pages.

Oh, Advent Children was very nice. It would be a no-brainer to say that it was hands-down the best animation movie I’ve seen to date. The promise of a ‘contemplative’ storyline was not quite fulfilled, I think – it seemed pretty linear to me. But then again, I’ve always been ‘different’. I pursued the final fantasy VII story longer than most normal people would even after the third run-through of the game. Getting all the hidden materia, unlocking every possible secret, and mastering every nuance of the game is of course, unsurprising. My interest in the game bothered on fanaticism. Which explains why I was more than a little excited when they first announced the development of the follow-up movie. The fact that the movie did, in most respects, live up to my expectations, is entirely expected from a company as reputable as Square, and is most admirable, given my lofty expectations concerning the game I regard to be one of the greatest masterpieces of the age. The movie was humorous, somewhat reflective, thrilling for the better part of it, and all-round heart-wrenching in it’s whole ‘this is for YOU, true believer’ feel. The music was beautiful, the remakes were moving, and the subtle references to the past events were both reassuring and provocative. Advent Children is poetry in motion.

There is a lot more I should be writing about – the reunion with the RV guys who I literally haven’t seen in years, my recent infatuation with ridiculously technical jazz, my unique dining experience at a particularly unique restaurant, the books I’ve only just finished reading.

But I’m too lazy. So there.

Paranoia out.

Stomp Out Loud

2005-10-01T10:20:00.000-07:00

I just watched Stomp. Wow.

Two incredible works within the past week has been an overload for my sense of culture. The costs have been significant, but worth every cent, and possibly more – I am beginning to wonder just how much the theatrical arts have in store for me, and just how much I have been missing all these years.

Foremost, I need to thank the greater powers that be. Without divine intervention, I would not have been able to catch Stomp today, in other words, effectively flushing away my $220. The reason I chose a Saturday night when I bought the tickets one month ago was because I figured, ‘well, surely the army wouldn’t deny me a Saturday night off this week!’ Well, it turns out that fortune frequently decides to take a piss on me – considering other hilarious antics such as declaring my birthday to be Barrack Orderly duty day, being amongst my favourites – and so, she decided to take another shot at screwing up my plans by declaring today to be a freaking commissioning parade. To further increase the chance of irony, She also decided to make me one of the two wet weather standby crew – meaning, whether it rained or not, and whether the parade was cancelled consequently, was inconsequential to me, since I would have to work my ass off either way, bound to a fate I have no control over.

Thankfully – the powers that be granted me divine mercy today, by giving us not only perfect weather, allowing the parade to commence as soon as possible without interruption, but also going further than that, by allowing me to get a cab amidst a throng of waiting people (albeit a harsh fare of $20). Even better, it turns out that my driver was a lunatic, driving at an average speed of 100km/h even on a relatively congested highway, sometimes topping out at 120. It was as though he was aware of my dire consequences, subconsciously. Weibin and I hypothesized that it could have been one of those Neil Gaiman moments where He decided to send one of his angels in disguise to assist me in accomplishing the seemingly hopeless. Anyway – no thanks to Weibin’s incessant reminders of the curtain call – I made it to the Esplanade with two minutes to spare. Two freaking minutes – how much closer can I cut it, I wonder? At least, despite today’s fiasco, I can still maintain what I so proudly declare all the time: I have never been late for any concert or performance, and if I’m late means I’m either not coming at all, or I’m dead. That was close though. Mental note: changing in a public area is not fun. And I don’t mean a bathroom.

Stomp! Stomp stomp stomp. Where do I begin? It was certainly as entertaining as I had hoped. I’ve been a Stomp fan for a long time – since I started percussion – and what started out as a casual interest in percussion has led to a full blown obsession with this touring show. I’ve watched it many, many times, video clips, dvds, whatnot. I’ve caught just about every separate item that I could humanly get my hands on. I know just about everything there is to know about Stomp – the cast, the creators, the origins, the shows, the awards, and the different items. So what were they going to surprise me with this time round? Granted, having watched Quidam last week made me feel a bit uneasy in the artifice of the place – a mass of derelict, rusting corrugated steel boards, with unstable looking junk welded on to widely spaced wire mesh flanking the balcony of a pile of rubble, on the stage of a grand, dedicated theatre stage?

Once they started, of course, all unease gave way to awe, amusement, laughter, and sheer respect for the group of performers who were professional in every respect – trained entertainers, sporting performers, and masters of theatre. They made the audience laugh, they made the audience stand and clap, stomp on the ground, slap themselves, and most importantly, instilled a sense of wonder towards common household objects. I recognized only two members of the cast – and only about half of the items that they performed. Brooms, of course, was their opening act, the most famous of all, and having written the entire brooms out by hand before, I can safely say that they took some liberty in modifying the original. Other familiar favourites were the basketballs, the kitchen sinks, the pails, the suspended signboard act, and of course, the famously spectacular closing act with the signature ‘S’ trash can-lids cymbals. There were some new and genuinely amusing acts – such as a metallic chairs one, a rubber tubing one, a crate hopping one, a bag of assorted carrying bags, and a wonderfully creative full-body slapping one. However, the act which had the most stage presence and ‘wow’-factor was the lighters one – completely in the dark, the performers flicked their Zippos open and close in perfect unison, despite the lack of communication in the total darkness, flaring the stage for a few, perfectly coordinated moments, and illuminating selected areas once in awhile, creating a complex flurry of patterns about the stage. It was truly magnificent to behold – something like a portrait of fireworks exploding, with a landscape of pitch blackness in the background lending a hand in helping to create the perfect contrast between light and darkness. Wonderful.

I also learnt that toilet humour is timeless.

It was energetic, it was lively, it was entertaining, and the way the performers yelled at each other, laughed, hollered and whooped, even the most composed of the audience were unable to control themselves in joining in with some rhythmic clapping, or even foot-stomping action. It was one of those moments that reminded me as to why I enjoyed being a percussionist – and why I’m so absolutely confident that not all instruments were created equal. I maintain that percussion is the only instrument that allows for such a degree of creativity and energy, as not only a musical art, but a performance art.

Change of Guards at the Istana is on tomorrow (Sunday), and we’re marching down from Heeren to Plaza Singapura again. This time, we’re playing marches written by our own bandsmen and our captain himself, interspersed with our usual percussion solo – but this time, we’ve gone full balls to the wall in it’s composition. This is just about the most difficult solo we’ve come up with, and we’ve written it keeping in mind the best players for their specific instruments of speciality. We’re not holding anything back this time – the reason is because more than a few of the percussion section are leaving within the next month, so it’s like a last hurrah for them. It will be quite a show, I promise. It starts at 5:30pm, next to the Heeren, for anyone interested.

Damn, I need to watch Corpse Bride sometime soon. And I need more theatre, soon. I need my fix. I only know one other cultural snob, though. Ideas, Weibin?

Paranoia out.

Under the Grand Chapiteau

2005-09-24T09:58:00.000-07:00

Two posts in the span of one day. That is insane.

Anyway, I thought this deserved it’s own update. Just came home from watching Cirque Du Soleil’s Quidam. While I understand it’s not the absolute best of their productions, I had an unforgettable experience all the same. It was a treat for all the senses, bar none. It wasn’t a one-sided performance with only visual splendor and effects – it was provocative, deep, and emotionally moving. And there’s such a deep appreciation for theatrics, drama, and performance art that even a person like me could feel that sort of presence.

The tent, or the Grand Chapiteau, was a lot smaller inside than it looked from the outside. Frankly, I didn’t expect that – some part of me had a preconception of what to expect, and I was thinking of something like some grandstand with some rings in the middle, set in some coliseum style stadium. However, all I saw were rows upon rows of seats, packed tightly around the centre stage, the front row literally hugging the stage already. I mentioned to Weibin how peculiar I thought that was, and he told me that this sort of circus wasn’t the sort of circus I’d come expect from funfairs or really horrid B-grade shows. I mean, I knew that modern day circuses didn’t involve many animals and stuff, and hence could afford to be smaller and more compact – but this looked like some performance stage to me. He told me that this was more of an abstract, bourgeois thing, with a larger emphasis on theatrics, riggings, and imagery. How right he was.

Each performance was dazzling, from the Diabolos (with the girls who somehow reminded me of The Shining), the aerial hoops, the crimson silk contortion thingie, all the acrobatics and skipping, and many more – all linked by dynamic interlude performances, and music which was both reactive and emotional. The musicians were astounding. They responded perfectly to all the visual cues, be it improvised or not – and the understanding between the musicians and performers is something clearly forged only from years of experience and appreciation for each others works, poking fun at each other, and playfully messing each others’ cues up. The drummer (inevitably) was simple breathtaking, sitting soundly in his sound chamber, one of the few I’ve seen in actual performance, together with his mixing boards and equalizers, slamming out rolling fills and syncopations perfectly in time with the formers. His hi-hat was simply mind-numbing in it’s subtle perfection.

The clowns were fantastic. The best I’ve ever seen in person – the true silent comedians of the modern age, mature and quick-witted in their humour, and reactive to changing conditions. I’ve never laughed that hard before, and given my absolute lack of humour, that’s saying something. The two skits their acted out with the assistance of a sporting audience were reminiscent of an episode of Who’s Line is it Anyway, but I guess the fact that it’s all right in front of you on the stage makes it all the more appealing and exciting. In fact, a lot of performance art is like that – you just have to be there to feel it. It’s a sensory experience, and I have no doubt that Quidam falls squarely into that category.

Weibin called it ‘the Beautiful People Parade’, and I couldn’t agree more, I guess. And that’s not only on stage – the audience were of a different type from, say, a movie audience or some band concert audience. This audience was constituted of mostly Caucasians, couples, and rather pasty skinned folk, who clearly spend too much time in their plush offices instead of out in the sun. And ANYONE on that stage, including the little girls, could have beaten all of us up at the same time, taken our lunch money, and done bench presses using us. Scary, beautiful, talented, silent people.

We spent some time discussing the whole story behind Quidam was well – mapping out our own framework of reflection about the various scenes, and how they tied together, how they critiqued modern day society, and specifically, the dysfunctional family which is becoming so increasingly predominant. Our literary deductions blew my mind, as usual – it’s amazing what happens when you get a group of people who just love to look too deeply into things together to discuss about such things. Fascinating.

The ticket cost a bomb – third row seats – but after walking out of there, there’s an unspoken, universal consensus that every cent was worth it, and all was right in the world. I would watch it again if I had limitless funds. Sadly, that day has not come yet. This sort of theatrical performance is an experience unlike any other, and it is things like that that foster my deeper appreciation of the cultural scene. Things which plebeians who just brush aside lightly, saying, ‘what? Hundred and thirty bucks? I could buy so many shirts and blahblahblah with that! No!’ The modern day person who only cares about material gains and deprives his soul of any appreciation for the living. I can only be thankful that I have friends who feel the same way – friends who can actually drag me out and tell me, ‘have you heard about this performance coming? You’ve got to watch it…’. For that, I am truly glad. It is one of the things I will miss, once I migrate from this place.

STOMP is next Saturday. I have been looking forwards to it for a long time. I think I might just be one of the biggest STOMP fans in the world – who else has actually sat down and transcribed an entire STOMP performance, by hand, into separate percussion parts? Heh. STOMP played an integral part of converting me into becoming an active percussionist, back when I first heard about them in secondary one. After realizing the potential of musical creation from a percussionists’ point of view, I realized that there was so much depth and room for creativity, and that I just had to go out and find it myself. In many ways, that has been the motivating factor which has led me to where I am, today.

First row seats, smack dab in the middle as well. Beat that.

Paranoia out.

Mambozart!

2005-09-23T05:11:00.000-07:00

I guess I lied about the bi-weekly update.

Thanks for all the encouraging comments about my braces! Especially those on the lines of, ‘HAHA I’VE BEEN THROUGH THAT! HAVE FUN SUCKAAA!’ Grr.

Went for brace tightening again – yay? While I like drinking my meals as much as the next guy, I can’t help but wonder why the dental profession is so – archaic? I mean, while other facets of medicines have gone into lasers, ultrasonics and all sorts of futuristic, no contact sort of treatment, dentistry still remains firmly traditional. But I guess I can understand – who doesn’t love the drills, chisels, vices, and various implements of torture used to physically force your gums into position while having to endure so much agony? While there probably isn’t any other reasonable way, I can’t help but find the primitive nature of the craft amusing.

You know how braces are supposed to straighten your teeth and kind of make them bite better over time? Well, that’s the funny thing about my braces – they do exactly the opposite. As time elapses, my teeth will meet less and less and my bite will get progressively worse, in preparation for next year. Terrific!

Rehearsals for the OCS parade has been a nice little diversion from the terrible quiet, restful life of the past week. I’m glad I finally have a chance to stand in the withering heat of the midday sun, with a backbreaking load for several hours a day, to witness the passing out of people I don’t know and don’t really care about, because it’s not something many people have the chance to do. It is an even bigger treat to get yelled at personally by the school sergeant major, in front of everyone. It’s been a lifelong dream, definitely. It is definitely one of those things I can finally check off in my ‘List-of-things-to-do-while-I-live’. Yay.

I’ve been further refining my taste in music, and have finally decided that I like listening to various forms of latin, funk, and jazz, specifically. I’ve picked up a lot of CDs and borrowed many others recently, so I’ll talk about some of them here. Klazz Brothers are first on my list, with their unique blend of Cuban-percussion heavy music, that is derived from standards in jazz, classical, and symphonic music. They take famous music and do their own arrangements of it – and kind of modernize it to fit the upbeat jazz culture scene, redoing works like Turkish March, Fur Elise, Flight of the Bumblebee, Air, Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies, and basically every other classical standard imaginable, into up-tempo forms like mozambique, salsa, Cuban, and mambo. It’s all very imaginative, and I guess, musically sound. LC seems to express some distaste for them, but I’ve found them most entertaining, and terrifically impressive. The remakes are mature, imaginative, and they don’t take you for an idiot by just inserting some cheap-ass bass beat behind (*cough*Bond*cough*). They do stuff like rework time signatures and delayed upbeats, to create a rather unconventional form of music that is both pleasant to listen to and strangely reflective. Highly recommended.

Tower of Power is a band from the sixties (I think?) that has somehow existed till today. After a huge amount of time spent searching, I finally located two of their CDs. Their area of music is funk. And mind you – these guys are about as funky as it gets. I’m talking about throwbacks to the golden funk period of the seventies. You’re not going to get more original or funky than this. It’s a pity how funk has died off ever since the widespread growth of pop – since it’s just about my favourite style of music. Upbeat, catchy, and appreciative of technical performance – funk had it all. Tower of Power is a joy to listen to, if for nothing but to salute the passing of the greatest genre of music to have ever existed.

Dave Weckl’s new album, Multiplicity, is, well, just another Dave Weckl album. His new songs sound just like any other of his old songs, since he’s pretty much reached a point where plebeians like myself no longer understand what the heck he’s playing, but find it totally awesome in any case. No doubt he has become untouchable over the past years, and I can’t tell whether that is somehow hurting his music, since his songs have become so perfect-sounding that it sounds almost like some sort of electronic replication that could be produced by some synthesizer. He’s kinda like the Tokyo Kosei of drummers, I guess – amazing, awe-inspiring, undefeatable, but perfect to the point where it sounds like some sort of midi. Still, it’s a Dave Weckl CD, and therefore I must have it.

People still come to me asking me to play for them – perhaps I didn’t make it clear enough in the past, but I’ve kind of decided to stop performing. I am still as big an appreciator of music as I’ve always been, if not moreso – but I’ve decided that I no longer want to perform. I simply have no talent in performance. People think of me as a sort of gearhead or drum-tech – and I guess I’ve read my fair share of tech-related books (how thick is a ply of wood? What possible materials can a drum shell be made off? Why do drum shells tend to become oval in shape over time?) that no other person in his right mind would even bother thinking about, and I find that acceptable. I used to think I had promising latent talent, especially back when I first started percussion – and I might have grown faster thanks to the training I received – but by now I’m simply sub-par at best compared to how much my peers have grown. There’s almost a certain amount of pleading desperation within me to try to claw my way back to what people have come to expect of me – but I can’t do it. Whenever I sit down at the drumset and play a piece with the rest of the band, I can’t even keep my own timing, let alone play together with the band, let alone do anything fanciful or spectacular, which I should be able to do freely by now. I’m no longer secondary 2 – playing with the band is no longer enough to qualify me as a worthy musician. It’s tiring, and disappointing, and I always feel embarrassed when people console me – it’s like I haven’t lived up to their expectations as well. So much ambition there – yet so little talent. I must be some sort of renaissance loser. Anyway, I’m done with performance. Go go iPod.

F.E.A.R. is an interesting game – when my computer doesn’t chug along slowly and wheeze in a worrisome manner. It’s just a demo, of course. Anyway, it’s a merciless game which expects your com to be nothing short a top-of-the-line powerhouse. When it DOES play well, it’s pretty darn amazing. The graphics are on par with shooters like Half-Life 2 or Doom 3, and when you go into bullet-time mode – woo – the graphics become jaw-dropping. It’s like first person Max Payne, just with ragdoll physics and a robust engine. Of course, it’s called FEAR for a reason: it’s some sort of horror game which apparently raises the bar for creepiness. And not in the Doom 3 ‘BOO! HAHA GOTCHA!’ or spawning monsters behind your back (‘COULD’VE SWORN I JUST CLEARED THE @#$% ROOM’) cheap-thrill scare tactics kind of way – this is more on the lines of The Shining or even The Exorcist. There’s even this creepy little ghost girl. Who doesn’t love creepy little girls who walk on the walls and ceilings, looking at you, laughing playfully out your sight, and concrete walls that suddenly bleed for no reason? Terrifically disturbing. I’m interested to see the full retail version.

Yay the J2 prelims are over. Woot? I guess I have no more reason to visit RJ on occasion anymore since this is actually the last junior batch I vaguely know. From here on out it’s just a confusing mass of unfamiliar faces. Well, it was only a matter of time, I guess.

Quidam is tomorrow! My last respite before the seven day work week next week. Ugh.

Paranoia out.

Ouendan!

2005-08-30T07:27:00.000-07:00

It’s Tuesday, so it’s time for an update.

I just installed my frontal braces, basically completing installation of my braces and starting the actual treatment. All I can say is, braces make me want to kill myself. I have newfound respect for people who have undergone treatment. I was correct in my hypothesis about the dentist evading my queries on whether braces were going to be painful – he merely replied, ‘well, millions of people around the world have done it!’ Which I thought was an absolutely absurd response since it didn’t actually answer my question at all. And turns out I was right. Just because millions of people have gone through it doesn’t make it alright – it freaking hurts as hell, and I am totally intolerant to physical pain. It makes me want to weep uncontrollably every time I try to bite and it sends waves of pain through my gums. It’s like having a persistent toothache on every single tooth in your mouth. I might just go insane after awhile. Back to the diet of soups and liquids that I do so adore.

I figure I’ll talk a little on my latest toy – my Nintendo dual-screen portable. I hooked up with ZH sometime last week to get some testing down, and to gleam from him some of his invaluable knowledge and insight on all things portable. I don’t know what to make of the DS, and I mean that in only good ways. I’ve always been part of the Playstation Portable camp – and have always mocked the DS because of what I perceived to be a gimmicky touchscreen interface that couldn’t possibly work out because of it’s fundamentally archaic technology under the hood. Being wrong couldn’t possibly do justice to how wrong I really was. The DS is a platform of innovation in every way that Nintendo boasted – and while that has never been in question, the surprising thing is that the innovation is actually put to good use, good, relevant use that has an impact on modern day portable gaming as we know it. Many games released on it so far have been able to put the touchscreen technology to good use, and more importantly, have incorporated it and made it fundamental to the gameplay, thereby removing the touchscreen status as a sideline gimmick. This is the start of the gaming revolution that Nintendo has so promised – regarding their next generation console of the same namesake, I will no longer view it with skepticism as I once did, and instead, I am eagerly awaiting the brilliant new ideas they have so promised.

I figure that I might as well talk about some of the games I’ve been playing lately, on the DS, and how the technology has so impacted my conventional ideas of how gaming should be.

Meteos is a puzzle game that traces it’s roots back to Tetris. It is reminiscient of Lumines. Of course, that’s true for almost any block based puzzle game in existence today. In Meteos, you don’t actually control the placement of the falling blocks – they fall naturally on by one, and they accelerate as time goes by. The objective of the player is to use the stylus to switch adjacent blocks one by one, in order to form three-in-a-row formations, in order to launch the three pieces, and everything above it, into space, meaning, up off the screen. The idea is to set up huge blocks of propulsion to launch the heavy loads sitting above it into space, but before the load becomes far too heavy and you lack the propulsion from a mere set of three blocks to achieve this. When you get flooded with pieces, you lose the round. The idea is to set up huge blocks of propulsion, chain them together, and blast them out of the stratosphere. The agility and dexterity needed for this game ensure that it is impossible to play without the swift precision of a stylus and a touchscreen. Factors such as different types of gravity and propulsion on different planets and types of blocks keep things interesting all the time.

Mario 64 DS is a remake of the Nintendo 64, 3-D classic that was so loved by Mario fanatics and platforming-addicts out there. The processor behind the DS is well utilized for this one, being able to render actual 3-D environments with a decent draw distance and clip, with good graphics and smooth loads. The innovation, however, is once again the touchscreen. In this game, the control scheme allows players to use the touchscreen as an analog control – basically a flat slate that detects how fast you’re sliding your fingers over it, and translating that into your character movement. Using the conventional D-Pad makes this game feel clunky and uninspired, but once you start to use the analog screen, everything falls into place like magic. You control your character using only your left thumb and right hand, and it feels natural within minutes. Soon you’re running, crawling, walking, sprinting, somersaulting, backflipping, long-jumping to your hearts’ content, without your thumb having a friction burn from trying to use quad-directional D-pad.

Kirby Canvas Curse is perhaps the DS’ innovation mascot. This platformer, featuring the relatively unknown Kirby, manages to make a name for itself with it’s unique style of 2-d platforming: literally, the entire game is played using the stylus. Not even a single button. Tap Kirby, he dashes forwards; tap his enemies to stun them, and dash forwards to steamroll them. Need to turn backwards? A stroke of the stylus draws a rainbow wall, and Kirby will run into it and turn backwards. When a hail of projectiles threaten to riddle Kirby with lots of new body orifices, use the stylus to draw a rainbow shield around him. And what’s a platformer without platforms? Draw bridges to connect platforms in any way you can imagine. Draw a steep slope to make Kirby run down faster, but draw it too steep and gravity will pull him down before he can get up. Got a shaky hand? That won’t do you any good, because the game’s ultra sensitive detectors will follow your hand and produce an uneven, bumpy road for Kirby to run over. Draw loop-de-loops, little momentum slides, full body shields – this game is limited only by your imagination.

Band Brothers is a little known Jap rhythm game, but it’s innovation isn’t the touchscreen. Like Beatmania, it uses every button on the DS, including the triggers and screen, and requires the player to follow the beat ‘instructions’ to play out a piece. Pieces range from famous Japanese pop songs to game theme favourites, and even the occasional English piece. The innovation comes in the wireless feature – it utilizes the DS’ wireless capabilities as an integral part of it’s gameplay. The game allows about a half dozen players to link up via wireless wave connections – and the connection is just about lagless. Each player chooses a specific instrument, and the leader picks a song to jam, and in seconds, every player is busy tapping keys to play his specific instrument within the ‘band’. And what’s really hilarious is that all the instruments are broadcast on every DS set, which means that you can hear every miskey, mispitch or wrongnote your friend is playing, in real time, and vice versa. You’ll have one hell of a good time sitting around and laughing at each other for hours to come.

Osu! Tatake! Ouendan! is a particularly odd Japanese rhythm game which uses the stylus completely as part of it’s gaming interface. It’s a rhythm game on the same vein as Parappa the Rapper, or even Space Channel Five. What’s interesting is that the music being replicated here is almost of the same quality as mp3 formats, and for a portable, is truly outstanding. It’s fast, frantic, and psychedelic – the colours and lights will keep your blood pumping all the way. It brings with it all the usual Anime conventions – the flamboyant and ridiculous character, the intelligent humour, and the occasional oddities that are part and parcel of a typical anime – the stream of flowing tears, the explosive temperaments, the cosmic backgrounds, and the story about three male cheerleaders wearing tuxedos make for a really unforgettable gaming experience. It’s, of course, no surprise that this is one of the hottest games in Singapore at the moment, and is pretty much sold out everywhere for ages to come, despite the fact that it is a game that is completely in Japanese.

Nintendogs is the modern day Tamagotchi, a game about raising a puppy of your own. It is so cute and so alive that you might just want to curl up and die from the cuteness. Scratch it behind the ears on under the neck and he’ll love you for it, whimpering softly, barking excitedly at you. Toss a Frisbee or tennis ball across the room and he’ll run after it, chewing at it, pawing it, and returning it to you if you ask him for it. The DS’ microphone is put to the test here – name your pet, and call him, and soon he’ll learn his own name and respond to your calls. Teach him to sit, beg, roll over, shake hands, chase his tail, jump, and many, many more, by word of command. You’ll be yelling your DS for months to come, trust me on that. Pick up a bubble blower toy and blow into the microphone to release a trail of glistening, prismatic bubbles that your puppy will chase and jump at. Take him out for walks by holding on to leash, bathe him, scrub him with your stylus, pat his head, offer him goodies, meet up with other dogs, join obedience competitions or Frisbee competitions. With about twenty real breeds of puppies to choose from, life-like rendering, and a level of interaction unparalled in any game, this one’s an instant classic. My father actually walked into my room the night I bought this game and asked me who the heck I was yelling at. You know that that’s a good thing.

Paranoia out.

Tang Tang

2005-08-23T06:20:00.000-07:00

I have updated. By popular request. Actually, it was one request – and it wasn’t as much of a request as it was an observation. But anyway, here it is.

What have I been doing lately? I have been contemplating my existence and possible reasons for my supreme rise to mediocrity, to which I have found too many solutions to display. I have not determined the actual reason among the multitude, but it leads me to believe that almost all of them are true in some way or another.

Alumni band practice was fun, or at least it would be, if it weren’t utterly unfun. I congratulate the alumni on escalating the alumni experience to one that can be likened to the army experience, or beating myself in the nuts with a heavy wrench repeatedly. They have plumbed the depths of boredom and dictatorship, and revealed new depths previously unknown to my ignorant little brain. Congratulations.

I watched Charlie with the guys. Reviews said it was average at best, and I am glad that the newspaper reviews constantly remind me how good it feels to be intellectually superior to the masses. I cannot blame a majority of the locals for being mindless retards. I have always known that emotional intelligence was a curse, not a blessing. It was an awesome show, rich in graphic imagery, artistic integrity, and as Weibin points out, references to prior classical works. It was all in all a very good show that brought to life the classic text which managed to infuse so much wonder within my head as a child. Yet on many levels, the undercutting critiques on society and the modern child are pertinent and relevant. I am glad that I watched it, and I am glad that I have friends who are like me whom I can enjoy this sort of show with. When the few of us laugh at a particularly complex or subtle joke, and the rest of the theatre is silent, we are reminded of the burdens we have to bear - those of common sense and a sense of humour.

Bought my NDS on impulse today – for the tech-imbeciles, that’s a Nintendo DS. The sound quality is a notch up from the GBA, and so is the processing engine, but of course it pales in comparison to the PSP’s technical specs. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything, since the PSP’s line-up is an utter joke. Frankly, so is the DS. I have no idea what they’re both trying to prove. But at least the DS has a few playable games. Word of advice – games have to be playable before they can be played. Otherwise they’re just a technical demo. I have no doubt that I will buy the PSP once they produce their second game for it (the first being Lumines). However, you actually do, in fact, need more than two games for a system to be qualified as a gaming platform. Prepostrous, you say! Well, it’s a matter of personal opinion.

EGM’s ‘ten most ridiculous game names ever’ article cracked me up. Donkey Kong (he’s not… a monkey), Tang Tang (completely Tang free!), Boboboubo Boubobo? Haha.

My whole dental torture fiasco is starting to build up momentum. In a nutshell, I am beginning some dental treatment which makes hobos cry. I am currently up to the braces stage, and my mouth is receiving so many lacerations that I don’t talk whenever I don’t have to anymore, except to mumble profanities and other important and relevant information. So… much… blood…
That’s that for my bi-annual update, I’m going to weep. Oh yes, and congratulations to me for earning myself Rhok’delar. A pat on the ol’ bean.

Waldorff Office Workplace

2005-07-31T07:28:00.000-07:00

Thought it might be interesting to post a few reflections for once, instead of the usual moaning and bitching that goes around on this page. I am not excluding moaning and bitching, of course – I’m just saying that this time round I have something more substantive to add to that.

Playing a game on an American server can truly be likened to being part of a cultural melting pot. Over the past months, I have formed opinions and perspectives of the American culture as I see it, and as I experience it. For back history, I believe that my guild (organization of friends within the game) are mostly from western and central America. They are mostly from different states and regions, but they’ve met up on occasions in the past and most of them know each other fairly well at a personal level. There are at least five to six married couples within the guild, and more dating couples, and well, relationships that are, at best, curious. Regardless, I believe that in my past months of interaction, I have truly surpassed most of my peers in getting to interact and understand with the culture as a whole (of course, excluding those who are actually studying over there now). My friends whom I play with and talk to (literally, over voice chat protocols) and text-based chat come from every race and background imaginable. They have slurs, accents, funny catchphrases, lingo, and all the perks that is to be expected of an entirely foreign culture. Naturally, they are curious about Asians, and typically, they think of us as the developing sort of country with backward facilities, lower standards of education, etc. The perspectives I have learnt are two fold – one of their culture, and one of how they view our culture.

These perspectives are skewed, of course – they reflect only the digital personality of a person. Yet I find the general attitudes Americans have very peculiar – in a good way – they seem more charitable than our locals, for sure. For example, if you ask for a favour from someone here, they’ll ask you, ‘what favour?!’ then eye you suspiciously, or even threateningly. If you ask the people in my guild, they’ll say something like, ‘sure, bud, what do you need?’ A simple example to be sure, but they really do seem more polite. They are brash and often do outwardly machismo things – curse and swear and stuff, yell brashly at each other – yet they always retain a sense of good humour about it. They don’t hold major grudges against each other, they don’t try to be who they’re not either. They believe in enjoying their lives no matter what they’re doing – yesterday during a guild event, they played a sideline drinking game, and made various rules stipulating when they had to take a shot of an alcoholic beverage. I imagine that no local guild will ever have that sort of spontaneity or open-mindedness, or sheer nonchalance that they do. If we ever had such a thing, I’d imagine that we’d try to cheat each other by saying that we’ve taken a shot, while we really haven’t, so that we’d be most sober by the end. But after an hour, they were all so drunk that they were laughing loudly into their mics, bellowing sheer nonsense, gibberish, and all sorts of profanities, singing songs with each other, and going into a full-havoc mode over voice chat. It was hilarious, and I spent the better part of my morning trying hard not to laugh, given the stitches in my mouth (more on that later).

Learning on my guild’s history has been a most interesting experience. Learning what sort of jobs they do and stuff. One of the women in my guild is actually a lieutenant commander in the navy; some of them work at supermarkets; some are oddjobs, some are doctors, one is a coast guard, some of them are overseas students. Some have interesting histories – this couple who got married recently met while playing Everquest sometime ago. The guy was from Texas, the girl from Detroit, and they met up in California and settled down together. That’s just too cool. This guy I met, who was apparently a previous title holder in Everquest, has now become my absolute best friend in-game, and we talk all sorts of nonsense about anything under the sun. And there seems to be this new-fad where a lot of them are trying to pick up mandarin and other Chinese dialects, and it’s really funny, since they’re cursing and swearing at each other with absolutely no idea of what they’re saying, simply because they asked us to teach them a few profanities. There’s a level of mutual understanding here, I think.

Spend the better part of my evening talking to one guy about how dedicated he was to the game – he has accomplished more in-game than almost anyone in the server – and it developed into a massive conversation about how much he felt like his life has been in shambles, and we spent a few hours comforting him. He’s always been a funny guy, but a massive cynic, a world-against-him sort of person, and he’s been going through mega depression recently. I noticed that and spoke to him, tried to encourage him and tell him how he shouldn’t fret so much about his problems (which are, by the way, pretty major problems), and the group of us just tried to offer him advice and encouragement. It was all worth it in the end, when in the most generous of gestures, he thanked us for our concern, and really appreciated our advice. That really, really made my day, because he’s a person who’s truly never seemed to care about anything, who’s always been a loner (albeit an incredibly amusing one), who’s always been so pessimistic about anything, and even getting thanks out of him was worth it in itself. The point is, I’ve made some friends here whom I truly care about and feel for, despite being half a world away and having never seen them. There is a sense of family and belonging here that I cannot quite define.

Most importantly, however, they’ve made me appreciate my life so much more. I know I bitch and moan all the time (like I’ve said), and I’m not going to stop by any means, but the fact is that I recognize how lucky I am to be me. Most of these people have up to their high school educations, or GED, as it’s called over there (General Education Diploma, I think?), and then they go out to work without further studies. As such there’s a huge diversity of oddjobs here and there. A lot of them often complain about their jobs, tell me about their lack of higher education to do the things they want – and I just feel incredibly guilty when they ask me what sort of education I’ve been receiving, and how I’ve been performing. Here I am, complaining about not being able to get into the top universities in the world, complaining about my jaw dysfunctions, my insecurities, about my mandatory service term. These people have real problems, real difficulties they can’t break out of, yet they’re so irrationally optimistic about their lives, and their mentality is that when they come online, they’re not going to bring any of their real life baggage with them, and they’re just going to enjoy themselves in each others’ company. There’s a very powerful emotional force at work here, and I can’t quite pinpoint what it is. I should be thankful for all that I have, and they’ve made me realize that more than anything else. Strange huh, that of all things, a game would be able to evoke that sort of revelation?

I’m done with my rant. I would just like to say that the past five days after the operation has been really tough. I have not taken any solids, or semi-solid food, for that matter, in the past 5 days. I’m simply not capable yet. There’s a perpetual gnawing hunger that exists when you subsist on a liquid diet – and it doesn’t help that the tension from the stitches in my mouse are incredibly annoying, uncomfortable, and obviously painful. No way will I be able to go back to work under these conditions next week. I don’t see how it’s feasible. Looks like I will have to extend my MC – and for good reason too. This is incredibly, incredibly unpleasant. Of course, not more unpleasant than work. Oh, and Crystal Jade's porridge is the best in the world, no two ways about it.

Paranoia out.

Ouch

2005-07-26T05:49:00.000-07:00

Quite an experience today, I must say.

Not that anyone has a reason to care, but I went for my operation today. Round 1. Wisdom teeth extraction – they removed four of my wisdom teeth at one go. So yes, I’m bleeding like mad right now, and it’s rather unpleasant since I can taste only blood. Of course, it hurts, it’s thoroughly uncomfortable, but nothing I didn’t already expect.

Got up really early in the morning after a previous night of fasting. My day surgery was held in the morning at 8am. It was to be done under GA – General anesthetic, meaning that there’s an operation table involved and they put you to sleep for the duration of the op. It can be done under local anesthetic of course, but having heard about the sort of things that go on during the removal of a single wisdom tooth nearly scared the piss out of me as it were. Four would undoubtedly be a nightmare.

Anyway, it was – aside from the pain and suffering – interesting. Veterans of such operations or worse, bear with me. It was my first experience under GA. I wasn’t particularly worried at any time; in fact, on hindsight I was remarkably calm the whole morning. We hired the best specialist we could find, of course, considered to be the leading authority in his field, one of the big shot surgeons at the National Dental Centre, so I knew I was in good hands. The hospital gown felt very odd, and almost uncomfortably airy. The nurse sprayed some really horrid, bitter fluid through my nostrils and told me to swallow it through there. That was really awful, and it seemed to totally numb my throat down. I couldn’t even feel myself swallowing saliva. After a few minutes they ushered me into the operating theater.

They gave me a job (been getting a lot of those lately -_- ) and put this breathing thingie (for the lack of a better word) over my face. There were at least 5 or 6 people bustling around the room, including the unbelievably cheery surgeon. It was then when I began to feel odd. My last conscious thought was, ‘ooh, ooh, there it is! So that’s how it’s supposed to feel li…’ and the room faded away rapidly. Next thing I knew, I was on a drip and had two really bloody pieces of linen gauze in my mouth. Post anesthetic feels weird. It was like my entire lower body was numb – I took awhile to realize where I was, and I heard the nurse asking me some questions to which I vaguely mumbled affirmatives, hoping that they were the desired response. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I had to spit out quite a bit of phlegm, thickly laced with the dark crimson blood. I couldn’t really control my lower limbs properly yet, but the most unusual sensation was within my mouth itself – I couldn’t feel my lower jaw, and parts of my tongue. I was warned prior to the operation that there was a risk of this, particularly due to my lower left wisdom tooth, which, by virtue of it’s growth, was covered by an important nerve, and in order to extract it, would possibly undergo some damage, be it permanent or for a few weeks. I was really worried because I couldn’t feel anything. It’s back to normal now though, for which I am glad.

I got to keep my teeth too, and it really shocks me to think how they extracted four teeth as large, as fully developed as them – and of course, only moments later did I realize how gaping the wounds in my gums must have been. The lower left molar, which as I said was the most serious, had been shattered into four pieces. I shuddered and promised not to look into the mirror, or think about what the extraction must have been like. It helps, of course, that I can’t open my mouth more than a centimetre, and I have no desire to. I haven’t spoken a coherent word all day. My left wisdom tooth wound site hurts so much that I can barely feel the other three. Ick. And having nothing but the taste of blood all day is giving me a sore throat. I can’t swallow anything other than pure liquids – not even porridge. Argh.

Painkillers promptly knocked me out after I got home, which I was thankful for. Now I’m burning through my gauzes, just trying to prevent my mouth from being flooded with blood. Guess I’ll be sleeping over a towel the next few days. I have to go back next week to remove all the stitches. /groan.

Read finish Harry Potter. I’m not particularly a diehard fan of the series, but I’ve read it all anyway, like any decent human being who appreciates good imagination. It’s just one of the things you have to do. While the series has never struck me as one rich in uber-complex language or imagery, I appreciate the imagination that it evokes. I too, was once a child, and in many ways, still am. Only thing that bugs me is how obscenely wealthy she is, that’s all. I know other writers who seem to have done so much more research, and have a much more mature style of writing, and probably don’t even make as much as she does out of one day of sales of any one of her books. As a literature student I can’t help but feel some amount of injustice there. I guess it’s about being at the right place at the right time, and being able to appeal to a diverse crowd. It’s about the right formula.

I felt that the middle of the book got a little draggy and a tad repetitive, but the ending was pretty, well, controversial, I suppose. This book did feel a little more predictable than all the previous books in the series, though. Still, it didn’t have the same amount of angst and bitterness of the last book, which I appreciate. I really did not like that aspect. Anyway, I won’t go into spoilers, not like some people I know. /glares accusingly at Qingwei.

8 days MC minimum, at least. Worth it? Probably.

Paranoia out.

It's really funny if you think about it

2005-07-19T05:37:00.000-07:00

The way things are done genuinely make me laugh out loud. They’re really, really hilarious, if you think about it.

Last Friday, we went down to play for the commando’s funeral – the one who perished in the helicopter incident, bless him. Then it started raining. Pouring – thunderstorm. We were, as pragmatic as we are, really pleased about this, because it should mean that we wouldn’t have to slow march in the rain. Surely – I mean, they’re all about safety, right? RIGHT? Heavy rain, lightning, thunder, danger, fifteen minutes of marching over something like 400 metres, come on, surely they wouldn’t send us, with our steel, brass, and cast iron instruments, out into the rain, right?

Ha. Ha. Ha. I guess you know how this tale ends.

I think what struck me was the sheer power of the scene. And that sort of power comes from the extremity of the situation – a funeral, a last hurrah for Death’s doing – the promise that things will be done better in the future to prevent such things from happening; and there we are, marching by, paying our last respects, in the worst possible weather fathomable with a total disregard for our safety. The irony is glaring, and almost comical-esque in nature. It’s like something you’d see in a Tim Burton animation, macabre, disturbing, but vaguely humorous in startling ways.

Oh and surprise surprise, I fell ill the next day. High fever. But that was not it. Not by a long shot. I shall not elaborate here as it is utterly inappropriate for anyone to know – but I will swear that on last Sunday, 17th of July, I experienced the most pain that I have ever felt in my life. I was in tears, sobbing, whatever, you name it. I thought that I was going to die from the pain. I wanted to pass out, anything, just to end that feeling. I hope that none of you will ever have to experience such pain. It’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. Anyway, I popped by the doctor’s, took a jab, felt numb for the next 24 hours, and sat down in my room for the whole of the next day.

I’m fine now, thanks.

Ragnaros has been slain. Hurrah.

The Average Wait Time is Four Hours

2005-07-12T08:45:00.000-07:00

An interesting week for once.

I don’t recall visiting that many doctors in one week before. Anyway, my minor op that was supposed to be today was pushed back by two weeks. Apparently because GA regulations forbid you to take the op if you haven’t been healthy at any point in the prior two weeks.

So I ended up at A&E on Saturday night. I guess it started last Wednesday when I experienced ‘some’ amount of discomfort in my stomach which I couldn’t quite isolate. So the doctor could only tag it as some gastric problem. Then I came down with high fever on Friday. Then uber high fever by Saturday. I was in agony – last time I had such a fever was in BMT. Hmm reminds me of those reports coming in the papers these days – those that talk about the initial assumptions that all NS men are malingering by default when they see a doctor? Not that I’m implying anything, of course. Surely I’d never do something like that, would I?

A&E was quite an… experience. I’d never been there in my life, and hopefully I will never have any good reason to. At least they seemed fairly eager to clear me out, so after waiting about an hour in that freezing, tiny little cubicle, my spectacles steamed over from my stifled breathing behind the mask, a doctor attended to me. After ensuring that I was not going to die anytime soon, they discharged me with several referral letters/documents/certificates. And I got to miss my own concert the next day, something which I am not sorry about whatsoever. Hope you had fun with that drum set part I had to play on your behalf…

Then Sunday came, and all hell broke lose. Gastric flu was the order of the day, with whatever you might expect of it, the regurgitations, diarrhea what not. All round, a very exciting day indeed. The doctor had to put me through micturation tests and all that. Quite amusing. If not unsettling. And I was unfit for another two days, with fluctuating fevers, migraines, the whole she-bang. A whole lot of fun. Really.

And was the medical leave worth all that pain and suffering?

Hell yeah.

Paranoia out.

P.S. thanks for all the notes! Especially from those people I haven’t heard from in the past 5 decades or something – MW, KT... where have you guys been all my life? We need to get in touch sometime!

Bleed like me

2005-07-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

I went for a checkup at SGH today. Concerning what? Perhaps it is time to scale back on the evasiveness.

I went for a checkup at the Dental Centre today, with an orthognathic surgeon. In simple terms, a jaw specialist. I’ve been for this sort of checkup in the past, and the advice has always been to wait, reconsider, and consider the risks versus rewards. Today was different.

I sat in the dentist’s chair, who is, by the way, the director of the department, so he really knows his stuff. He looked at me, made measurements for ten minutes with several intimidating measuring tools, jotted it down frantically, and finally came up with a verdict – that I did, in fact, have a very serious jaw problem, and was not going to discourage me from doing the operation. I was quite shocked at this recommendation, and mentioning that I was going abroad in slightly more than a year’s time, he told me, ‘then we should start on it as soon as possible.’ I had the impression that I was there merely for a consultation, but before I knew it, he signed a referral, slotting me before other patients, bumping me up the queue to the dental surgeon upstairs, telling me to get my bracers done immediately for pre-op.

So like I passerby, I watched with frank amazement as everything started to unfold before me, the cogs and gears of the whole process slowly sliding into position, and accelerating to an unstoppable mill. It was beyond my control, and what has been set into motion is still beyond my reckoning. Before I knew it, I had plastic scissor-looking paddles pulling away my cheeks from my teeth for people to snap photos, mirror paddles being shoved into my mouth with those paddles tugging in every direction, pictures being taken from every angle concurrently, having this bubblegum like substance being lodged between my teeth and cheeks to make molds, and eventually being sent for X-rays. The molds were to be sent to a laboratory to develop and process. The seriousness of the situation was unforgiving. As I was sent into the testing room, I watched the nurse drain an entire tube of blood from my arm, and it started to dawn on me, what I had gotten myself into.

As I stared at the black-and-white diagrams of my own profile, I couldn’t help but feel terrified. I saw my own visage, plain and stark, a ghostly silhouette, bordering the bright white images of my bone structure. The doctor looked at it, and for the first time, told me, ‘your problem is… very severe. Very severe… and unusual.’ He mused for awhile, and cutting to the chase, described the operation to me. All I know is that I was agape after that. Afraid, intimidated, whatever you would call it. It’s not a simple operation, and it’s not as simple as one operation. Having learnt what is necessary, he gave us time to deliberate on the issue. And our final resolution was to go ahead, as soon as possible, in the hope that I can finish it before I go abroad.

So like I’ve said – things are happening way faster than I expected. Everything has been set into motion. My first operation is next week. Next Tuesday – an operation to remove four wisdom teeth at one go. I laugh in the face of people who complain about how they’ve had one wisdom tooth taken out. I’m getting four within a day-op. And it’s not those injection/saw/pull while you’re awake things; it has to be a sedated, general anesthetic operation which will last a few hours. With all the prerequisite fasting to avoid condensation in the lungs. I will be bleeding like mad for one week, and as my brother says, I will be hard-pressed to not throw up during the week due to the overwhelming, omnipresent taste of blood. Four extractions at once. Wow. But trust me, this is the least of my concerns – this is but a pre-operation procedure, amongst a few others.

I also have to wear special bracers for a period of 6-8 months after that, to prepare my teeth for the actual operation. This includes the normal checkups, readjustments, so-on-and-so-forth. Then the real kicker comes.

The actual operation is going to be an ordeal, there’s no denying that. It’s horrifying. Merely describing it is cringe-worthy and frightening. I won’t deny that I am afraid; that’s an understatement. I will outline the basic process here. The process usually involves shifting one of the jaws to meet the other jaw, in order to align them – the bracers then fine-tune the teeth to meet. Of course, it’s not as simple as shifting. Incisions are made at the sides of the mouth, bones are sawn, relocated, and basically reattached manually. The old process was to use thin wire frames to wire the jaw shut thereafter, and put the patient on drips for several weeks. Here is the exciting part, the part which highlights exactly how ‘special’ I really am – my jaws are not a simple matter of misalignment. The fact of the matter is that my jaws are of different sizes, my not only is my lower jaw overdeveloped, my upper jaw is underdeveloped. So the fun part is this: my operation is two-fold, once for my lower jaw and once for my upper, the former being shifted backwards and the latter, forwards. Exciting, huh? Then after, titanium plates will be welded onto my top jaw to push it forwards, and screws will pin my bones in place. I don’t know about you, but it sounds bloody gruesome to me. And of course, the post-op suffering, bracers, lack of solid foods are to be expected, in conjunction with a five-day hospitalization period.

There’s nothing to think about. I’m doing it, and that’s that. Everything has been prepared. My pre-op begins next week. I can only hope that I am psychologically prepared. As it is now, I think to myself, is it worth all the suffering? Do I have the guts to voluntarily go through such pain? Can I help but think of possible side effects? I cannot afford such thoughts. It will be done either way. I can only cruise through it, like a hapless amusement park-goer, pinned to his cart, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts, fears, regrets, joys, unable to control any of those emotions but witnessing them fly by, just like the blurry streaks of his surroundings.

Psychological pressure. What will my friends and family think? I will not look the same, to be sure – the changes will be drastic, for better or worse. None of you will recognize me. Will you think any less of me? More importantly – will you support me in my decision, or scorn me? I think I need a lot of support during this period of time. While I can’t control it or change the reality of it, I don’t need more people coming up to me, asking me to describe what I will be going through, then cringing and telling me about how horrible it sounds. I’m well aware, thank you.

To all those who have laughed at me or thought less of me in the past because of how I look – you should be very happy now. You finally got to me. I am never aggravated at people making fun of me; I am glad to bring such amusement, despite the fact that it’s at my expense – to the world. But it adds up and gets tiresome. I’m tired of hearing people talk behind my back (and trust me, I have). I’m tired of people giggling whenever I speak. I can speak well, dammit, and I’m not going to be steered from my choice of career, just because people can’t accept me for how I look or speak. I am afraid, but there is a distinction between simply being afraid, and doing it in spite of knowing about the sacrifices involved. At least respect me for that, if nothing else.

I’m tired, I’m jittery, and I feel a heavy burden weighing down upon my shoulders. Fears, doubts, pressure, in so many aspects, be they physical or psychological. I know that it’s for the best. But how many people will do it, with the knowledge that there will be several bits of metal in your skull, remaining there forever? How many inevitable jokes concerning metal detectors will I have to put up with? How will I feel when I can feel the metal contracting and expanding based on surrounding temperatures? Will my life ever be the same again? Will I be loved by my friends, or shunned and abandoned, like yesterday’s news? More importantly, will I feel that it has been worth it, after everything is finally over?

My heart is laden with too much conflict. And I’m feeling like this on the first day. A year of discomfort and suffering ahead. At least. And I will only get more unsettled as time goes by. I can’t fathom what I will be like before the op. I have to sleep on this. My mind is not prepared for the immediacy of all this.

Operation begins next week.

Paranoia out.

Ad Ovo?

2005-06-28T06:49:00.000-07:00

My, time certainly flies by, doesn’t it?

I kid.

It will finally be over this Friday. Of course there is more to come – but who ever said stupidity knew mortal boundaries?

RJC Batch 2003 reunion was last Saturday. I frankly did not expect much of a turn out. More people came than I expected, and it was certainly illuminating to meet some of them again after these years. I will say, however, that what Weibin says has a certain grain of truth in it – the fact that we will, up till now, still meet up and organize things among the people whom really matter to us, and no reunion will ever be able to emulate that sort of honest reunion. But it is also true that it compels some of the lesser socialites and overseas scholars to actually make a rare appearance once in awhile, and it is endearing to see some of them once again. Props to the council for organizing such events – I must say that I appreciate the work and effort you’ve put into it, and I hope there will be more to come, regardless of what anyone else says. I believe that you will be the last bastion of any semblance of unifying force that still exists, to bind us together once in awhile, to see how each of us have grown (and not), over the years.

Watched Initial-D as well. I’m sure you’re well aware by now that I am an insane, hardcore Initial-D addict. I have pursued the comics and cartoons for longer than most of you have heard of its existence. I knew the concepts of oversteer and understeer, footbrake drifting and inertia drifts before some of you even knew what a clutch pedal did. Anyway – the show was amusing. It’s not going to win any Oscars anytime soon. But it was, especially for a fan like me, an interesting experience to see some of our favourite characters and scenes brought to life from our imagination. The plotline was weak, I felt – they took far too many liberties with it, as ZH mentioned. However, there is no denying that the action was totally, 100% awesome. They missed some of the best driving lines, which I found a bit odd, but still forgivable. To see the drift stunts brought onto screen really gave me goosebumps. Unforgivable though: Keisuke was taken out of the movie, with Nakazato taking on the ‘brotherly’ figure. Totally unforgivable. Keisuke and his yellow ‘bananacar’ FD are irreplaceable. I can only expect a sequel to focus around Project D, Ryousuke’s so-mentioned ‘dream team’ at the end of the movie – but I can’t fathom how they will pull that off with the exclusion of one of the two aces-in-the-hole, the uphill driving expert, Keisuke Takahashi. Any attempt as such would be no less than a butchering. Let’s hope it does not deteriorate to that. Otherwise it would become vaguely the same class as those B-grade ‘PUSH NITRO AT THE RIGHT TIME!!!’ shows. *cough*

Popped by Memphis, the CD place near my house, for the first time in a long time. I’ve never really spoken with the proprietor, but I did today. And goodness, he’s the friendliest, most knowledgeable CD-shop owner I have EVER known. I actually stood there for half an hour talking to him about everything music. He explained to me how recording companies worked, how various companies forced certain artists (with examples) to push out CDs due to time constraints, and actually hurt themselves in the process. He started telling me about histories of different albums, artistes, what was going on in their lives now to affect their style of singing, so on and so forth. He asked me what I liked, and through our conversation, having mentioned a variety of styles like big band, jazz, swing, electronica, rock, funk, progressive rock, hybrid, what not, he was totally taken aback. Between all our discussions of Coltrane (thanks Mr. Lim!), U2, Liquid Tension, DWB, Cranberries, Garbage, Prodigy, Ray Charles, Coldplay, Jamiroquai, Chemical Brothers, Buddy Rich and Count Basie Big Bands, musicals of the old and new, various instrumental bands, fusion bands and about a zillion other examples, he said that I listened to an outstanding variety of music, and deduced that I must have been a drummer, and therefore I hated all boybands, R&B, Rap and Hip Hop. Amazing. Do drummers really have such a reputation? It’s a very interesting observation. He gave me about a dozen other recommendations, gave me more history and info, and I ended up walking out of these with an armful of CDs, several extremely rare drumming dvds, and felt extremely pleased about it. Now that’s a salesman I can truly respect – a person who can not only withstand my nonsense for a good 30-45 minutes, but actually outtalk me and trump me every direction I turn. I learn something new everyday. I think I made a new friend today!

Interestingly, I pissed off Nas today as well – he was playing random music from his iPod in the afternoon and I was naming most of them within seconds, and starting out with, ‘hey, I’ve got this album…’ and soon it degenerated into ‘hey, I’ve got…’ ‘SHUT UP!’ I’m so damn annoying. Finally, I succeed at something in life.

Jammed with Jiajun for the first time in a long time today. He has improved by leaps and bounds. Truly impressive. For the first time in months, I felt confident today. In between jamming NSB pieces, Linkin Park with our awesome bass guitarist and singer, I realized that my groove control has grown abit since last time. I can maintain steady, hard-hitting grooves now – but that comes with a cost – I now totally suckass at fill-ins. I’m having problems doing like sec4 fills or something. Depressing to the max. Even Arvin was laughing at me. I need to work on my stuff more – but how will I ever break out of this mentality of self-berating? It is a heavy price to pay, being in the company of some of the greatest drummers I know.

Now, an unrelated topic. It frightens me. Now that serious steps are being taken, I actually feel afraid in someway. Yet I know I must go through it. I don’t talk much about this, not even with my close friends. I have mentioned it once in awhile, and people have asked me, much to my evasion – I appreciate the concern. I am truly thankful to have such friendship. But this is something I must go through, by myself, for now. Surgery scares the living daylights out of me.

Anyway – STOMP is coming to Singapore! They nearly made me wet myself back when I was Sec 2. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I hope everyone who reads this will at least consider going! It’s not to be missed. They’re one of the most amazing percussion entertainment groups I have ever bore witness to, with their strange fusion of everyday materials, tap-dancing, ridiculously complex cadences, and a sheer nonchalance and sense of nonsensical fun in all their performances. I will be thrilled to be able to catch them live again. It’s being held at Esplanade Theater, 27th September – 2nd October. Prices range from $50, $70, $90, $110, but I’d advise getting $110 tickets if possible. There is no compromise for sheer perfection. I’m sure you will agree, once you see it for yourself.

Time for Mike Portnoy’s drum clinic! Until later!

Paranoia out.

Imitation of Life

2005-06-07T06:08:00.000-07:00

I’ve just replied to UCASTrack, the UK universities application board. So it’s finalized – I will be going to the University of Nottingham, unless NUS suddenly decides that it does not want to screw me over. Unlikely. So, UK it is. I will admit that I am afraid now. It’s all too real – while national service is screwed up, it does seem like a point of time in your life where nothing really matters, where nothing you do has a direct effect on the rest of your life. But now that I’ve just been promoted to a full corporal, I’ve reached the final leg of this phase of my life. It can’t end soon enough. But, it eventually will. And the knowledge that I will be out of here, at the doorway of a new life, within a short year, terrifies me to no end. It really does. I feel an amount of fear that I cannot possibly express.

It is a feeling of apprehension. I know that going to the UK to practice law will strengthen me and push me in more ways than any local education ever will. The fact that Nottingham is the fourth best university in UK, behind Oxford, Cambridge and Durham, to study law is firm affirmation of the quality of the education I will be receiving. I will not deny that, and I have no fear of that. I am one of the luckiest foreign students out there as well – a student without a scholarship bond. I am totally free.

What I am afraid of, however, is myself. Of who I am. Anybody who knows me well will tell you that I am fiercely opinionated. I am ruthless in venting my frustrations, and extreme in my expression, to the point where I always get into trouble or annoy people due to my tactlessness. But they will also tell you that I am a coward. I am always a safe person, I don’t take risks, I don’t go to clubs, I don’t drink, I always cross at a traffic light if I can. I call my parents all the time to let them know where I am, and I hardly venture out of my house unless absolutely necessary. I am not adventurous. In fact, you could argue that I’m a bloody coward in most respects of my life. I have no self-confidence either. I can’t cook for nuts. I am not independent – I can’t survive on my own. And being so far away from home, from all my friends, from the comforts of my room – the thought of all that terrifies me. This is not Australia. There is a psychological apprehension here – this is the UK, and it’s half a world away. You almost couldn’t go anywhere further before you’d start heading back here. This is not like going to RJC on the first day of school – ‘oh damn, I don’t know anyone here, I’m afraid – well at least my house is just across the road, so I can go back and hide anytime I want!’ Putting a person like me into a scene like that, well, is a foreboding thought. Understatement. It’s a terrifying thought.

Plans are underway – things to bring, things I must know, things I must learn, accommodation. Plans are being made as we speak. Plans to tour the UK before I begin my studies. Arrangements for my family to stay with me the first few weeks until I settle down. I probably won’t be getting my car soon. I was so looking forwards to that. But I have to be economically sensitive. My family isn’t rich. A foreign education isn’t cheap. So many things to think of, so much to be done. And the issue of time is gradually becoming a factor. It will pass.

SAF day is simply the worst experience in my life, next to BMT. You will never understand the pain of standing still under a scorching sun for 10 hours a day. I am not joking. You might think that is impossible. If so, then you’re probably still in JC and have not yet experienced the army. Or you are a female. Or both. Whatever. The only consolation is that I get to meet up with some of my closest friends like Zhihan and Lionel, who are there, suffering with me, every single moment. I respect that. We always have a lot to talk about during breaks. It’s good to see each other again, albeit under unfavorable circumstances.

Just thought I’d talk about one of my hobbies for once. I know, I often hound my friends to death when I’m with them – but I never really talk about it here. So I thought I would, just for the fun of it. Not so much the content exactly, but the more social aspect of the game.

Just for background information – I have spent over 1200 hours in World of Warcraft. I know, you think I’m a loser. I will not deny that. But hear me out, so that you understand the basis of your accusation. Then revise, reflect, and if you still think this way, I will respect that.

I have not been playing many games the past 8 months. I have a reputation for being an obsessive know-all when it comes to games, but lately that has changed, as I no longer play anything other than WoW. It is an obsession, not unlike IRC. Something you can’t explain. WoW is an MMORPG – a massively multiplayer online role-playing game. I pay SGD25 a month to keep my subscription up. I play with several million people in a world that is consistently running every minute of the day. It is a virtual world where I meet people from all walks of life, mostly parts of America, Australia, sometimes Korea or Taiwan. And of course, Singapore. You learn so much about other peoples’ cultures. You learn about what they think of us, exactly. Your experience widens so much. You learn that there are people out there so brilliant and appreciative of good humour, somewhat of a rarity here. People who can make you laugh, and laugh with you.

It is a social game. You can literally sit down with a group of people at a beautiful ornate oak table in a detailed virtual inn and just talk. About anything. Life, the universe, everything. I am in the top guild in my server. By that, I mean that I am amongst the top hundred players amidst a server of maybe 15000-20000 players. We go on guild raids and coordinated events that require discipline, patience, and above all, dedication. We know each other like brothers. Such a guild can only fuction through utmost trust. We know about each others’ real lives, the events going on. When something sad happens, we send flowers or stuff like that, across oceans, across continents. It is all real. It is not a game where you think about killing monsters, you do it, and you log off. Everything you do or say matters. There is a real economy, real politics. There is reputation. People have been shunned into obscurity because of the bad name they give themselves. For all intents and purposes, this game emulates real life. I challenge you to try it out for a week and to tell me that you have not felt any of this at all.

It is not a game that only guys play. My organization consists of females who form around twenty percent of the populace. Females who are like-minded and open-minded enough to see through the veil of such stigmas. My guild itself has at least 5 couples, of whom are actually married in real life, and many more dating couples. People who often have to log off because they have to take care of their children, or have to pick up their kids from school, or things like that. There is a familial aspect that is incredibly real. There is a history behind us that runs back to the days of everquest. That is around 6-8 years of history. It is true, to some extent, that I do not even know some of my real life friends as well as these people.

I have made friends here I can never forget. I have met real celebrities here, as well. People I talk to all the time. Literally. We use a voice-chat protocol named Ventrilo that allows us to talk over a microphone and organize ourselves. We joke all the time, make fun of each other, sling lude or racist jokes. I nearly busted a gut laughing when I heard Razael sing ‘Staying Alive’ by the Beegees in his falsetto tone. I was honestly in tears. Many of us were. Hearing Dai’s story about how his fiancée left him because he became so obsessed with the game was real as well. How people have to leave because of family problems, about their financial crises, the sacrifices they have to make. Moments like that are so powerful that they can change you, and teach you lessons about life.

It isn’t as simple as being ‘just a game’. You make commitments and ties here that are sometimes frightening in their power. Yet, strangely compelling, and in some ways, beautiful in their elegance. Games have evolved since ten years ago. It has become a pop icon, it has become complex, it has become lucrative. But most of all – it has become an emulation of life. And that’s something to think about. So if you want to shun and look down on us, I do not blame you. There is nothing physical to gain out of playing games. It is not a sport either. It us unhealthy. It is pointless. I can see where you’re coming from. But I hope you can see where I’m coming from, as well. Then your claims, if you still decide to make them, will be valid.

If you’re still interested, you can browse my guild website on the left table of links. It is regularly updated, and most interesting, I can assure you.

Paranoia out.

Nadia Aamer: thank you! that is some amount of flattery I do not deserve. i am not a good writer by any account. you are one of the few who have such an opinion of me :) be glad, however, that you do not have the misfortune of knowing me in real life!

Wy: probably july/august next year :) the immediacy is so frightening!

mingwei: haha thanks man. you zai lah, PROSPECTIVE NUS-EDUCATED LAWYER. they wouldn't even give me a chance. haha see you in camp... hopefully not during guard duty again!

Meh

2005-05-31T07:42:00.000-07:00

Over time, and through experience, you will learn many important lessons. I will summarize some of the most pertinent ones.

Racism has existed since intercontinental migration and transport. Animosity led to genocide. Genocide – the mass slaughter of a certain group of people because of who they are, not what they have done. A meaningless act of cruelty. But nothing happens without cause. You will learn that the hard way. Conflict happens for reasons, just as rumours must have some degree of truth backing them. You might even realize, eventually, that some of these madmen actually had the right ideas all along.

You will learn, and generalize as I do, that a majority of smokers are brain dead. I appreciate that some of them eventually succeed in ways no man ever can; I can appreciate also that some of the greatest atheletes in the world are smokers. All these are fine examples. I merely state that what you will experience for yourself is normally the converse. You might meet a few exceptions in your life. But you will realize that most smokers are brain-dead idiots who think very highly of themselves.

You will realize that the propaganda machine is far from dead. You might think that everything they say becomes more and more nonsensical by the week. You would probably be right.

You will learn that pride has no value. By that I do not mean that it is invaluable. I mean that it simply has no value. Pride will become worthless. You will learn that pride is simply an excuse they give to force you deeper into drudgery. You will not agree with what you hear. I understand.

You will learn that inefficiency has no physical boundaries. Just when you think they’ve hit a brick wall, they’ll amaze you in ways you never dreamt possible. Their inaptitude is more capacious than an elephant’s scrotum.

You will learn that in order to survive, you must do the wrong thing. And you will soon realize that all the wrong things you do are right. It is an infallible truth.

You will learn that the locals are myopic, selfish, greedy, and calculative. You will discover wanton sloth and flatulence. You might get irritated. Or you are just one of them.

But you will learn the two of the most important lessons of all. You will learn self-affirmation; to become more open-minded and sure of yourself - to be independant. That is the first. The second is by far the more important. You will learn, without a shadow of doubt, that there is a much bigger and greater world out there. And that lesson’s magnitude is exactly proportional to all the lessons you will have learn before this. They are exactly the counterpoint to one another.

And you will learn all these lessons during those two and a half years. The necessary step you will eventually take to prepare yourself for the reality of life.

I have made up my mind. It has been difficult - excrutiatingly so – but I now know that I must seek my destiny elsewhere. I might not have all that I need – but I believe that there are great things out there waiting for me to discover. To do that, I must venture away from here. From the comforts and security of home. From it's shackles. I didn’t want this – but fate has decreed it so, carving out a personal tributary for me in this turbulent stream. I was not made to walk the smooth, straight path like my friends; I have been chosen for greater challenges. Challenges not many people will ever have a chance to face and overcome. People say that I should be happy with that; that they would give anything to be in my shoes. Do not mistake me, I understand that. I understand the great freedom and endless potential I have ahead of me. I am not limited like my brother was. Which is ironic, since he is a genius and I am not. I would describe him as a prodigy; genius would imply that he is simply like any other of my friends. He is far beyond that. I sometimes think I got the reticent genes; who can blame me? But now I’ve been given a chance to do things I could never have done here. I will take that chance. My parents want me more to, more than anything. They want me to take the opportunities my brother never had. I know I must, for their sake, if not mine.

I have doubts about the cost. I have doubts about myself, about the fact that some of the people who speak and write a million times better than I ever could do not even think of themselves capable for law. What more me? Am I so deeply confident of my latent abilities, which up till now, I still have yet to see for myself? Or am I relying on some miracle to happen? Or to grope in the dark all the way through the four year course, hoping that by some divine intervention, the light will become clear to me? I do not know what to say. All I know is that we all have dreams – just that some of us have to take a leap of faith into the hands of absolute uncertainty.

And that is all.

Nottingham is supposedly the home of a huge live gigging venue. It is, like any other precinct, one that is deeply rooted in a culture of pubs and drinking. It is not as hip or trendy as London – consequently, it is also much more affordable. It is a country life, compared to the hustle and bustle of the urban cities we are so used to. It has a university population of 27800. The application acceptance rate is 11%, reportedly lower than Cambridge and Oxford. It is famous for the social and entertainment scenes which are apparently very happening. Arts and music are one of the university niches as well, something I find very agreeable. In terms of academic excellence it is rated slightly below Oxbridge, UCL and LSE. It is usually within the top 5 universities in UK, consistently within the top 8.

Sounds like a nice enough place to receive the education which will last me a lifetime. But I wonder…

Reverie

2005-05-27T09:43:00.000-07:00

Some form of wakening; revelation.

But I'm getting ahead of myself - let's start off a little less serious.

This week has been majorly, insanely taxing for me. Every single day, and I mean everyday, I only get home past 11pm, sometimes not even having had dinner. It's the crazy overdrive period. SAF around the corner with it's killer, exhausting rehearsals, and my own crazy determination to complete my driving lessons in the shortest time possible. I'm actually amazed with my progress. A month ago, exactly to the day, I was busy trying to figure out how the damn half-clutch worked and where the biting point was exactly, with my car jumping and vibrating like Mario on crack. And now I'm practising my parallel parking, getting ready for final theory and about to do the damn simulator. Almost at stage four within a single month - sometimes I scare myself. It was exhausting as hell and these days I have zero social time - but I know it's going to pay off in the future.

But good things first - I had the honour and privilege of meeting one of the most reknown composers/conductors to have ever lived. I refer to none other than James Barnes. Yes, the composer of Invocation and Toccata; Appalachian Overture; Alvamar Overture; Fantasy Variations, just to name some of the more popular. I actually spent two hours listening to him conducting, instructing and guiding the central band. And I was no more than two metres away from him. A living legend. I'm a huge Barnes fan. I always imagined him to be some snobbish englishman with the power suit and controlled executive-styled hair, with a snooty snarl on his lips at all times. I don't know why. I guess it's the impression I derive from the music he writes. Very bombastic, dynamic, insanely complex, and creative to the point of deliberate antagonism at times. How wrong I was. Walking into the studio, one of the two people dying to see Barnes, I was met with a man of smallish stature, a greying, balding hairline, thin-rimmed, round-elderly-person spectacles, in a very normal looking shirt, topped off with old looking pants and dusty shoes. Not particularly of impressive stature, but he had a certain aura of warmth radiating from within. He felt approachable. He was entertaining and genuinely funny; I could feel his earnesty and passion in his words. He had presence. His simple words were backed with unrivalled experience, wisdom and intelligence.

I took a picture with him. I was so happy I could die right there.

Listening to him conduct Fantasy Variations made me quiver in my shoes. The man conducting this piece is actually the man who wrote it. That scared the heck out of me. I never thought I would once meet the person who wrote that fantastically difficult but rewarding competition piece which consumed so many days of my life several years ago. More than once, too. But I loved every moment of that.

So I attended the concert today, conducted by Barnes himself. I didn't have tickets. I didn't care. I pulled strings, fought and assassinated my way in by any means necessary, and got a good seat. It was an experience. How was it? I am no critic. Critics say it was messy at points - but I am a plebeian. I listen as a commoner. And I was enthralled; amazed; impressed. I am easily impressed. But Fifth Symphony and Festival Music for Singapore really did me in with it's granduer and plain ambition. There was so much to respect about how the music was written - the richness and contrast of the texture, the phrasing, the genuine creativity. I have not been in a concert where six trumpets, in addition to all those on stage, were positioned at the rear of the concert hall to blast the living daylights out of us from all directions with some of the craziest arrangments I've ever seen. Barnes seems to like the Senza Misura. I can't deny that I find it highly entertaining and dynamic. It was a mystical evening. I don't care that I came home at 1 am and am exhausted beyond comprehension from my past 12 hours of corp of drums. I experienced Barnes in person. That is enough. This is one of the best weeks ever, in my cultural pursuit, plain and simple.

Like the third movement of Fifth Symphony, I've experienced change as well. I'm not ashamed to say that I've recently been denied a place in the NUS law faculty again. I've prepared myself emotionally for rejection - but of course when the reality really hits with it's dull, unyielding certainty, there is always some amount of hurt you can never be prepared for. I don't feel bad for myself. I always tell myself that I've been through some of the most gruelling academic trials ever and have done better than I ever imagined. I'm lucky and thankful for that. Four UK universities have vied for my favour, and Oxford granted me, together with some thirty other people, a chance to sit in at an interview with some of the biggest names in their faculty. I have been granted honours I never dreamt of. I am not a genius like my brother, but I am definitely not ashamed of myself. I don't blame the system either. I only think that I've disappointed my family and friends. They've always supported and believed in me. I have no reason to doubt that they will continue to do so - but I can't help but feel guilty that I've let them down. They, who have put so must trust in me.

I spoke with my dad about a startling discovery - that I've been rejected by all the universities who have actually met me. I know it's probably unfair to consider Oxford as one of them, but I believe that I have as good a chance as any other. The point is, the universities that have accepted me have only seen my writing and my grades. The universities that have interviewed me, on the other hand, have all rejected me. So I'm now faced with my mortal fear. I will explain. Some of my closest friends among you will know what I mean. I mean, my inaptitude to speaking. I have always feared speaking. I freely admit that. I don't like talking. Why? Because I'm not good at talking; I have an odd voice, and an even odder style of pronunciation. I always mention this, people always make fun of this - it's attributed to my unnatural jawline. I am not ashamed - I'm only upset that I have to put up with this flaw. This flaw which no one seems to be able to accept me for. And naturally I grow wary and self-conscious. I learn not to speak, to look elsewhere, to speak softly, to minimise my jaw movement whenever possible. I do this because I have this defect. And now it is costing me. Costing me my future. I couldn't give a damn if people laugh at me for it. I'm used to it, I've had to withstand that my entire life. None of you, NONE of you, will ever get close to understanding the amount of pain I've had to put up with. You can laugh at me, you can point out my flaw, but you will never be able to say you've had the same sort of courage. Because you've never needed it.

I'm sore, of course. Sore not because I think I'm incapable, but because I'm disadvantaged in a system that is intolerable of disadvantage. And I am now at a very difficult point in my life. To consider, with finality, what path I will tread in the future. I always thought I would do law. I still can. I have my place in UK. A university more prestigious than NUS will ever be. That is not a problem. The question is, do I want to do it, and am I cut out for it, or am I just trying to force it, because that is what people expect of me, and what I expect of myself? Now that it has been proven that my rejections are not based on luck or coincidence, I'm faced with the dire reality that I am not actually physically, emotionally or mentally equipped to tackle a profession as demanding as law. People tell me: you're so well-read, you can write so well, you can speak better than some people in the faculty of NUS, so why are you so unconfident of yourself? The answer is that my confidence is being rapidly grounded into ashes by my surroundings - the way how all signs point to 'no'. I am experiencing doubt I've never experienced before. It is troubling. And worse still - it is very, very real. I am surrounded by people who worry all day about their girlfriends, boyfriends, hair, looks, of what club is open tonight, of whether their friend is coming to their birthday bash at some hip joint next week, whether or not they've got enough protein in their diet, whether or not there will be time to sleep during the day. And me?

Me. Hm. I wake up in the morning, look at myself in the mirror, and ask, 'why? why me?' Why couldn't I just be normal? There has to be a reason. I believe in cause and effect; action and reaction. Fate must have different plans for me. But why did it have to be me? And what plans, to what purpose, exactly?

Perhaps I will go to UK. I will be spurred by this denial from my own local university, and I will tell them that I don't give a damn whether or not they let me in because either way, I'm going to become a lawyer. And the only thing that matters is whether or not they want to have a hand in this, or whether I have to turn to foreigners to grant me the education I think I deserve. Can I will myself to greatness out of spite? I am rapidly losing my faith. My trust in this place I call home is draining away like a gaping sinkhole. Why won't they give me a chance? Am I truly so incapable, despicable, intellectually disadvantaged? Or is it because I'm ugly? Or because I didn't get perfect grades like all the other applicants (and we all know how important grades are in indicating a person's capabilities)? Combination of all? Or because I'm simply inapt, and talentless with words in speech or prose?

Perhaps I will not go to UK. Perhaps I will end up doing oddjobs for the rest of my life, trying in vain to find my calling, but in the end only, like Willy Loman, to find nothing here? Only emptiness? And I will pursue that emptiness to whatever end, at whatever cost?

'He had the wrong dreams. All, all, wrong.'

Thanks for all the fish

2005-05-23T09:45:00.000-07:00

Oh, hello.

SAF day has been most pleasant. If 'pleasant' means 'getting-brutally-violated-in-an-electrocuted-bathtub-by-a-group-of-starving-grizzled-wolverines'. I'm all for standing in the sun all day because it 'makes us stronger' and 'builds our character'. No, wait, I'm not. Whenever they say such things I think about the rating advertisement in the cinemas they play before every movie now. That advert cracks me up. You guys know it, right - the one describing each age category, giving examples of what films each each group is entitled to watch. The last part of that advert is the kicker, of course - 'with these ratings, you now have more choices to choose from!' or something on the lines of that, read out by some over-enthusiastic gay who clearly has no idea how ridiculous the things he is saying sounds. Yeah! I have more choices if I actually have less movies to choose from! Goddamn retards. I'm surrounded by frikkin' idiots.

Going out with my batchmates is always a most eye-opening experience. By that, I mean that they make me want to beat myself over the head with a dead chipmunk. In a good way! I'm, of course, not going to talk about Ian's foray into the female toilet, involving him strolling into the cubicle casually, doing whatever had to be done, and coming out later without actually realising what he had done. That I will not talk about. I will, however, congratulate Gary on his law and econs admission. Uh. Yeah.

Episode III was a most surreal experience. I say that because I can't think of any word more vague than that. I can't say whether it was good or bad - I can only say that it, well, was. While some parts were blatantly cringeworthy, and trust me, we DID cringe ('found a way to alter the midichlorians...' / 'you're so... beautiful'), I found the fanboys in the theatre more disturbing - yeah, those groups of people who actually cosplay (dress up as characters), and who clap and cheer even as the Lucasfilm logo appears. I daresay that I'm as much of a Star Wars fanboy as much as any self-respecting nerd should be - and while my knowledge of the series frightens me sometimes - I would never do such things, and possibly think of myself as really cool after that. You'd chuckle as such people, think, 'oh that's cute', and then start thinking about it with respect to real life and then wonder, 'no, wait... wtf are these dorks doing?'

The movie felt like an abomination. No, I don't mean that it's bad - I mean that it's like an abomination from Warcraft - it felt like a patchwork of unrelated things that eventually got together somehow and just worked. It felt rushed. The action wasn't always commendable at times, and sometimes the lighting effects felt like they would have caused more seizures than an episode of pokémon. But it didn't have the crap from episode one, and that alone made it a winner. The last part was almost funny in it's cheesiness ('Nooooo!'), but I guess if I were burnt to a crisp and had my relative butchered, I'd probably feel a little bit annoyed too. The references were very nicely done though. The Organa thing, the corvette they were on at the end (goosebumps), the elegant weapon comment, many, many more. All very tasteful I think. How many people would actually catch all those references? Hah.

To those who loved and remember the first three (meaning the last three) movies. I know after watching RotS you'd be like, oooh, so the first three episodes have been resolved; I should catch the last three again to see how they all tie together! You'd probably be gearing up to load a copy of it into your dvd player and prepare for a night of sweet, sweet ecstacy. Take my advice. Don't. These things remain sweeter as just memories. I have been there, and it is not a place you want to be. They have not aged as well as you think. Example: 'Now I am the master' - 'Only a master of evil, Darth...' *buzz* (pause for three seconds) *buzz* (pause for three seconds) *buzz* (... pause...) Zzzzzzz.

Watching the extended Initial-D trailer alone was worth the price of admission though. Yes, I'm also an I-D fanboy. How can any guy not be? It's about fast cars! You can't lose! I was seriously having fits just watching the trailer. Seeing Takumi's Toyota Trueno-86 is okay, you get a few of those in Singapore - but seeing Ryousuke's RX-7 FC3S blazing past with the red 'Redsuns' logo (!!!) made me all tingly. I could go on about Kyouchi' Lancer Evolution III or Nakazato's Nissan Skyline GTR-32, but I won't. I only feel sad that they seem to have made no mention to Shingo's Honda Civic EG-6, which is like my favourite car. The drift scenes were truly awesome though. I don't know how they pulled off a movie based on the anime, but I'm more than eager to watch it and find out. You can be sure that you will catch me at the very first preview.

Man I really suck at driving. I know that my progress is better than average - I have, after all, finished almost half my lessons in less than one month - but I didn't expect to feel this uneasy for this long. I would have figured that my interest in car and racing games and stuff like that would somehow allow me to adapt a little better. Boy was I wrong. How will I ever get a first-time pass? Ugh.

Wow, it's late. I guess trying to do episodic updates (short, burst-relay like posting) is totally out of my league. Thank you for all the belated birthday wishes! It's nice being a second class friend at least.

I kid. Thanks, really.

Two

2005-05-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

Hmm.

Was that it?

I don't feel any much wiser.

These things are overrated.

People usually talk about emotion and recollection or whatever gooey stuff they can muster on such an occasion. I will resort to what I do best: talking quantities, definining worth in material gain, and basically just being a wet blanket pain in the ass cynic about the whole thing. Let's get the show on the road!

Anyhoo. I got some pretty cool stuff this time round. I managed to totally ruin my brother's surprise by calling him during the day to ask him about this really awesome keyboard I wanted to buy, only with him going, 'uh... don't. just... don't get it.' And I was like, 'what? why? OH.' Second time in two years! Turns out I'm truly psychic. Either that or he is. Anyway it's really nice, and pretty darn hard to find - it's a Saitek keyboard. Basically it's a normal keyboard with the usual bells and whistles of a modern keyboard; but the awesome thing is the responsive, non-clicky keys. And the part of it that makes peoples' eyes pop out is of course the backlit keyboard itself. Underlying the entire keyboard is this dull luminous blue glow. Really cool, and never reaches the point of looking cheap, tacky or cheesy. Classy. Goes well with my Razer Diamondback precision mouse I guess - that has a ruby red glow underneath it's carapace. I've got this surreal neon thing going. Oh yeah, and the keyboard comes with a separate nine-key command pad that functions like a mini-keyboard for you to bind stuff. Sweet.

For anyone who knew me back in the days when wearing short pants was considered cool and 'with it', they might remember my primary passion in life - not Sing to the Dawn, no - it's none other than the truly immortal Unreal Tournament. I think after searching the entire SLS for 3 hours, I managed to find only two copies of this game. For those who've never heard about it, it is simply It - the one game which changed the face of gaming as we know it. People have lost many days worth of precious sleep and sacrificed many a future simply from playing this into the depths of the night. This game is no less than 6 years old - and popping it back into my cd-tray, its rightful home, I was most pleasantly surprised. I never once doubted that it's gameplay could more than transcend all boundaries of time - but I never expected it's graphics to live up with today's standards even. The graphics are still, all things considered, simply amazing. On a high enough resolution, this game still looks fairly modern; and that is discounting the fact that it is simply one of the best games ever made on any platform. I wanted to kneel in humble reverance in the store in front of the box. The cashier gave me a queer look when I handed him this. I wonder, did he even have any idea of who was standing in front of him, and what significance the contents of that old-school, large cardboard packaging carried? He will never know. And so will many, many other people out there who've never had a chance to witness the days of this game's prime. I installed it and played it for several hours; and it still never ceases to delight me. At least you - you, privileged reader - now know about it. Pay your respects in the face of such divinity.

Got a wire-art combo band thing. Basically a model grand piano, electric bass and drumset, totally twisted out of thin but sturdy aluminium wire. Fantastic. The detail is really impressive considering the underlying simplicity behind it. Definitely a top shelf place in one of my toy cabinets.

Got a couple of dvds and a new casing for my PDA. I guess it doesn't count if I bought it for myself though.

Dinner was cool. I've never been to such a place before. This place had only seven tables, and was reservation- only. There wasn't even a door service - clearly not a place where just anybody is welcome. No menu or any welcome sign outside, or for that matter, anyone waiting on you. And I guess if a chef serves you himself, it's pretty special. I must say that that's the first time I've been to a place that only gave you mineral water in sealed glass bottles, with no complimentary chilled tap water or whatever rudimentary beverage most restaurants have. I think I wet myself when I heard the first thing they asked - 'sparkling mineral water for you, sir?' Geez. That was most uncomfortable actually. Needless to say, the food was... well... yeah. Needless to say.

Oh, and I really suck at driving.

Mr. Oura is hilarious. And I mean that he's really, really funny-funny, not the usual way I mean it when I talk about other people. He makes me chuckle to myself in front of my computer as I converse with him over MSN. Then I realise what I've done and can't help but feel a little uneasy that I've been giggling like a little schoolgirl in front of a lifeless monitor and a softly humming processor case. Truly, I've lost it.

Need to sleep. Just want to thank you all (yes, all two of you) for all the nice greetings. Okay, I lie about two - but I'm amazed at how many of you guys actually remember. I sometimes don't even think that I know that many people in my entire life. But you guys just prove over and over again that I've got so much more than I deserve to have. Thanks for all the well-wishes - you people are the best! Happy sports-and-games day, indeed...

the great cliché anthology

2005-05-05T07:50:00.000-07:00

Well I must say that the news of the band scoring a gold in today's syf was a fairly surprising event.

I don't claim to understand exactly how the system works, but it's seem like common sense to me that, by virtue of reshuffle every year, the criterion are never the same during the next competition. I will offer some insight.

Nevertheless disappointment is unavoidable, and is to be perfectly expected - I can feel a small amount of that given my faith in the band. That is not to say that my faith has been shaken; I am still obstinately resolute about my claim that this band is still one of the top this country has to offer. I know this because I have been part of the internal workings; I know this because I am a musician of sixteen years, a bandsman of nine - I am no stranger to this scene. Through my years of experience, one thing has always struck me about RJ - the comaradarie and most importantly, mutual respect for one another that is unsurpassed in any organisation I have ever been in. Nay, no other organisation even comes close. Their dedication and passion towards their craft can only be matched by the batches preceding it and the batches yet to come. Never have I been part of a more cohesive group of people whom I can truly appreciate the way that I do in RJ. That is the Raffles way, and that is how it will always be.

A brief precis. I'll get to the point soon, I promise.

In other bands I have to put up with hypocrisy, blackmail, and politics. Band under Ms. Chan was not easy. She was an excellent teacher and patient mentor, easily on par with Mr. Oura - she has the ability to command and inspire. But I can't say that I always enjoyed the practices. That is not to say I did not enjoy my time in RV band - I learnt more than I could appreciate in my time there. Yet, to me RJ has always been about fun and games. Band was one of the few pleasures we had around the school. I remember with utmost fondness my induction into band - it was a rough period for me. I joined my batch halfway through the year. And I daresay that by the end of the year, I was closer, if not, moreso, than most who had been there before me. I remember with great nostalgia the countless hours spent in that underground haven, playing bridge with the true masters like Ryan and Junjie, slowly improving and developing my own tactics and strategy by the day, perfecting my craft under their careful monitoring, tutelage and guidance. All the insane laughter inspired by Gerald at Vincent's expense. Weibin and his dual-hula-hoop-while-playing-the-flute gag. Jamming all sorts of strange tunes all day, concocting our own monstrosities, choosing our own nightmares, and devising the most blasphemous tunes known to mankind. Those were the days.

Getting to the point soon. Patience.

Then there was SYF - the most trying period of the year, next to the actual 'A' levels. A true testament to our patience and unflinching dedication to our music, in the face of the most daunting exam to ever grace our lives thus far. Juggling study and play simultaneously (albeit mysteriously always ending up with more play). Central Judging was loud, but we were confident that we would get into presentations. We did. Presentation was an experience unlike any other. To perform our pieces on the finest stage built in this country in front of an audience so large that a large proportion had to stand up. We screwed up. We dropped sticks, fumbled notes. You could here the slight quivering tone in most of the music. We were not confident. Everyone said AC or TJ was going to take it. We got the results later. We cried, we laughed, we screamed. We withstood criticism and controversy with an oblivious attitude. We didn't care what anyone said, and regardless of the result, we did what we could with what we had and we did it with focus and unity. Easy to say in retrospect, of course - but that was the essence of it. We'd done our best, and had no regrets whatsoever.

And that is how I view the present batch. I have been back more times than any alumni, probably - and I daresay that this is one of the strongest, most cohesive batches I have known in my schooling days. A large band to be sure, but closely bonded amidst the chaos of the recent shifting and all that. And of course, as I have previously highlighted, a band with a sound comparable with some of the more professional ones I have heard in recent years. Outstanding soloists, sociable juniors and insatiable appetite for all things music. And, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - their sound is one that rivalled even ours, and possibly - dare I say it - surpassed ours. And that's saying something.

I'm not worried about the result; I'm more concerned as to what they feel about it. Are they feeling guilty, as some have highlighted to me, that they've let down their seniors? Or do they think that they didn't manage to give the judges what they wanted? To all that I say, rubbish. Absolute rubbish. To perform for people is one thing - but to judge yourself and feel so emotionally affected by what you perceive to be failings that you could have controlled isn't fair. First of all, you don't owe anyone anything. The alumni isn't comprised of several unrelated batches trying to outdo one another, and neither are they out to prove a point that eventually, someone is going to take a fall and there'll finally be some great controvery to bitch about. Secondly, nothing you can do is going to affect how a judge is going to rate you based on his own personal gauge of scoring, nor can you affect or guess at the uncontrollable aspects like politics and unknown relationships; not that I am implying anything of the sort. The very nature of the competition is that volatile - the criterion fluctuate on a yearly basis on the sheer basis that the people running it are swapped out bi-annually like brake pads on a car. But I'm preaching to the choir.

The point is - if I may put it succintly - you guys are bloody amazing and have made me piss myself and wowed and awed me more times this year than any other band I've seen yet. What you're thinking or feeling is inevitable and no one can or will attempt to alter that; but I - no, we - can offer you solace, in the fact that the people who care about the band think that you guys are totally awesome and couldn't give a damn what the results say. You guys are part of a proud heritage; nay, a legacy, of a band worthy of nothing less than honours. Just take a look at our illustrous history and decide for yourself. You are not simply a batch, charged with the mandate which you cannot afford to drop - you are the present chapter of an order of proud and capable musicians who are simply conforming to formalities we do not even choose. Nothing you do can tarnish our - the Raffles Junior College Symphonic Band's - glory. You have fought valiantly and you are always a part of us. You share all our laurels as we share them with our seniors, and their seniors. To even harbour the thought that you are, in anyway, a harbinger of some semblance of failure, is completely unacceptable. In fact, if one more person blames him/herself, I'm going to drive down personally to your house to flog the remaining traces of stupid out of you.

No, percussion was not too loud or overbearing. That is irrelevant.

(And one more thing - wtf is up with this system of gold with honours? You can honour my ass with all the gold you want, but give me some damn rankings, not some cloudy mumbo jumbo about how humans were created equal, love thy neighbour and how competition is bad, not good. Trying to be a comedian is one thing, but to repeatedly beat a dead horse is another. Get your rear in gear already. Do you even realise that no one gives a damn?)

Today was your day, and it should stay that way in the years to come. It will always remain a high point in your lives, when you sit down around a table with your friends and just talk about 'ye good olde days', and laugh the whole night through while eating peanuts and drinking beer. Just... without the beer. Nor the peanuts. Don't you dare look back upon these days with a sense of regret. To do so is to dismiss and disregard the proud legacy we have carved out for ourselves. You will talk about this day, and laugh. Laugh about how you felt sad then, and laugh about how you cried when you thought that you had failed in some way. I'm not even going to go into my seniors' comments about the band. My seniors whom I respect. About how highly they regard you guys, about how they were heartbroken to hear of the injustice you guys have to put up with. And these seniors are not even from RJC. Bottomline. I'm always proud of you guys, of what you guys represent - one of the greatest academic institutions to grace this earth. I'm proud that you guys have not only kept up, but raised the bar of excellence to dizzying heights. Every year we think to ourselves, 'damn, how're we going to beat the last batch? Is it even possible to become better than this?' But with batches like yours, we smile to ourselves and worry for the batch after yours. With batches like yours, we know we have nothing to fear, because our banner flies high in the sturdiest of arms. That is the type of Rafflesian RJC produces. Not every school can, after all, produce a person who can whip up this much waffle and cliché in one piece of writing while still really believes in most of them. Stand tall, stand proud, friends.

Paranoia out.

Guess the word

2005-05-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

Wow I sure had a dublin bad day.

It started our with the evil empire demanding that we cut our dublin hair for no apparent reason other than to exercise their own pathetic little egos. The demand was dublin unreasonable, but then again, it always is - regardless of any plans we might have had, we jolly well dublin call it off at their whim. The argument is that we're already more privileged that we should be. Fair enough. An argument wrought with fallacy and to be sure, malapropism, but nevermind that.

Then it dublin began to rain. And the storm was dublin heavy. Relentless. I was so dublin pissed off, since I had driving lesson and I was already so dublin short on time - so I took a cab there. Just when I thought that I had managed to shave off some time, the barber decides to be a dubler and sic his dublin trainee on me. And I mean, it was like the newest trainee ever. I must have been the first human being he's ever touched. Not that it was subpar, but it took a hell of a long time. I thought then, maybe the bus would give me a dublin break. But it was dublin late, and boy did it take it's dublin own sweet time. Then I come home to find the dublin heater off, and my pants aren't dublin ready, so I get to wear dublin wet pants to lesson. Dub it.

In conclusion, I hope the dublin evil empire burns to the ground, and all the dublin people in it.

I guess the best part of my day was when Vincent, Ian and Wen triple-teamed me in a well-coordinated and well-executed plan to destroy any semblance of self-respect for myself as a musician. That was actually quite pleasant in comparison to the previous things outlined above. Crush notes on a bass drum since 'my double pedal isn't that good' is insane any way you look at it. Ian and I had a rather engaging chat about philosophies pertaining to music. It was a little odd. But anyway he told me about how he felt that in the end, all styles of music tended to jazz, and that jazz, being one of the elder styles of influential music, was actually the basic foundation of modern music as we hear it, and consequently, one of the truest and purest forms, even from an objective point of view. I'm inclined to agree. I told him about my philosophy on percussion as a breadth over depth instrument and explained my reasons pertaining to this deduction. I think we both walked away from that feeling a bit more enlightened about our craft. At least, I did. He probably thought I was an idiot.

Well driving has certainly been most interesting. I've just finished the first stage. Lame huh? But I didn't stall at all today! And that's quite a feat, if I do say so myself. Considering that I've been stalling like mad the past few lessons, a few times on a public road, no less. And it's pretty embarrassing to be overtaken by buses repeatedly. Of course I've got a speed limit, but still... And wow, I'm beginning to see why every single motorcyclist alive in this world should be flogged and beaten with an ugly-stick. Bastards.

Went out with the guys last Friday. I realised that my penchant for being rather laid-back - okay, spineless - does have its use. After seeing the apparent human relations training these - well, superiors - have, I was glad to have some form of pacifism in the form of Weibin and myself. We're certainly the more diplomatic of the group, haha - even after awhile the waitresses, apparently terrified of the Beh and the Hong, automatically conferred with me for logical, human-to-human negotiation and interaction. You're welcome!

The law interview/written test was great. Truly great. I'm not worrying about it at all.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says it the best - in the face of certain doom, 'Don't Panic'. I'm not panicking. I'm doomed to the extent where I don't really care. I'll try again next year I guess, who cares. I find it ridiculous how we try to outdo every other country in the world with a punishing admission regime which certainly singles out the weaker candidates, for sure. But it definitely isn't a perfectly fair way to do it. Then again, fair is just a meaningless word made up by non-singaporeans. They want the beefiest, highest scoring, fastest-talking people. Fair enough. I certainly don't live up in those two aspects. I'm just saying that more prestigious universities in the UK are willing to give people like me a chance. Are our systems so different that you have to completely crush me into fragments, dissolve me and then gargle me whole, before excreting me onto some cubicle wall in a horrid display of lack of hand-eye coordination? I will never understand. Never say die, I suppose - but if you had the same interview and essay I had that day, you would be peeing yourself too. Trust me. Even during my Literature 'S' paper, I never once blanked out for a full twenty minutes with nothing on my mind except, 'holy crap.'

Yes! I've upgraded my cable connection! Sweet.

Well hell's finally arrived! The events will build up from now till a dramatic conclusion in August. I literally have something like forty assorted rehearsals, overtimes, and weekends burnt until then. Terrifying. But it's the last stretch before bliss, I guess. I only wish I had more time for my driving. Looks like it was a bad time to begin driving proper. Nevertheless, good night - tomorrow is a particularly - interesting - day, I guess. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Paranoia out.

Micturation is a funny word

2005-04-22T04:56:00.000-07:00

Wow this week has sure been a sharp contrast to the last.

It's been a rather spectular week of misfortunes, me tripping and falling down the sandy whitehouse hill, much to the amusement and concern (mostly amusement though) of my colleagues, being the least of them. I got nailed by the RP as well, finally. I must say that I was at fault and I cannot deny it - however the means by which I was accused, and eventually, prosecuted was most unprofessional, to my utmost annoyance.

Regardless I am convinced that that particular (subject has since shifted from the RP, not talking about them anymore), shall we say, 'group' of people are the most unsavory of the lot. They are truly a horrid intepretation of life, a mistake in the great cycle of creation. Regardless - if they make further trouble for me, I will accept my punishment to the extent that I deserve - but I will not go down quietly into the night. I will make sure they regret it and remember the exact moment of their incredible, short-sighted folly.

He said it well today in his farewell speech - 'Your friends will tell you that the two years will fly by fast and it'll be over before you know it. Well I'll tell you now - that's bulls%#t. It's a lie. These two years have been the longest of my life. Good riddance, and thank you all.' We laughed as any audience with a sense of humour would, but the grave implications underlying his words were not lost on us. It's true - memories, friendships, experiences? A weak attempt at justification. Anything you do within these two years will grant all of that, even if you spend that two years as a hooker or some cleaner specialising in dung removal from a beach populated by highly poisonous ninja-mutant crabs.

If anything I've been inspired, finally, to pick up driving. I passed my theory some time back, but have been too lazy to continue with the proceedings - well, now I have a reason. I can't wait to escape the scrutiny of those idle bridgekeepers. My parents have promised me a car when I pass my test, as long as I pay for some of it myself. That's fine. I will start immediately.

Did I mention that I tumbled down a hill?

Gerald encouraged me to pick up gigging. He said that it's totally pointless that I spend all my time practising but I choose not to perform whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why as well. I guess I've always been more a solo, technical person. Doesn't help that I'm a monumental loser as well - but when I see Wen getting invited, no, begged for gigs, I can't help but feel a tinge of envy. I also can't help but wonder if I'm doing the right thing here.

Completed Jade Empire for the Xbox. Amazing game, not the be-all-end-all of RPGs for sure, but it belongs up there with the likes of the original Knights of the Old Republic (well it WAS made by Bioware too!). The game is not as simple as being 'interesting' in a way that potatoes grow out of its' own eyes - it's interesting if you look at it from a more global perceptive, how the westerners perceive the eastern cultures. For the uninformed, this is one of the first western RPGs that is totally focused on a country known as the Jade Empire - a clear parellel to feudal china, complete with the emperor(s), tyrants, great wall, and most important of all, a nod to the fantastic 'wuxia' styles of battle, the whole spiritual, physical intimacy of the martial art, complete with the masters who don't teach the 'final most uber' moves, complete with the Drunken Fighting stances, complete with all the dragons, gods, ghosts and mythology. It's very well-done, though not always accurate, but I guess that is easily forgiven. The game often laughs at it's own western roots as well, which I find mature in a game, instead of the whole patriotic thing that they often pride themselves on. With voice talents like John Cleese (Q, anyone?), Master Miller/Liquid Snake of MGS fame, and a whooole lot of support from other highly reputable VAs from all sorts of games, the game is brought to life in an extremely vivid, professional, and humorous manner. Outstanding. While I may not totally agree with IGN's 9.9 best-game-ever rating, this is definitely up there with the big guns. I don't fault it for it's imperfections, for they are acceptable and easily overlooked - I penalise it for what it could have had, but didn't, that it could have been so perfect-perfect instead of mostly-98%-perfect. Good stuff though. Worth buying an Xbox for? Yes. Yes yes yes, a resounding affirmative. I bought my Xbox last year to play this, and in retrospect, I was a genius before my time.

By the way I'm a gaming genius, not a hardware genius. People have been asking me about the specifications of the internal hardware of consoles and whether they should buy this-and-this for their PC, or whether I can help them install so-and-so onto their new motherboards. Let me just say that the fact that I manage to load up my computer everyday without staring at the monitor while slapping it gently on the top, with a bufuddled, pleading face, is already a godsend by my standards.

Law interview next week! Yes. I'm not a fan of rejection, personally, but I know it isn't out of the question. Pray that I'm good enough for them, huh. Good luck to us both.

Paranoia out.

Foonting Turlingdromes

2005-04-17T05:33:00.000-07:00

My, what a remarkably cultural week. First there was the RJ concert (which was awesome), then I went to watch the last day of the SYF, specifically for Dunman and RV (which was awesome as well). Most enlightening. If every week were this relaxed and culturally enriching, I would say I'm in very good hands here! It is a pity, then, that that is the last week of such idleness; from here till august, it will be nothing but an uphill climb of endless parade rehearsals, late nights, early mornings, and burnt weekends. I can hardly wait.

But I digress. If anybody can recognise where the title of this entry is from, I'll give you a cookie. Anyone? No? If you do, I truly applaud you for having read one of the most phenomenal pieces of comedic writing ever conceived by a mere mortal. Weibin, you are forbidden from guessing.

Ah, RV! Where do I begin? Okay, we'll start with Dunman. We figured the whole harp thing was pretty much a gimmick, with him pulling one note every 40 bars or something, but looks like we were wrong! Anyway, their piece was one of the most amazingly complicated things I've ever heard. I'm all for technical s$^& (which I've taken to referring as 'TS'), and in fact, I'm pretty sure that's one of the few types of music I can appreciate, but this is ridiculous. The whole running woodwinds thing which sounds like some intricate mess is apparently part of the larger design of the piece, and is somewhat supposed to represent a form of organised chaos. Very impressive, very difficult, very cacophonic, but very satisfying, all the same.

Rv played 'With Heart and Voice', and while I'm trying to steer away from what I suppose must have been the subject of many, many lame puns and inspirational speeches, they really played with a lot of expression and appreciation of their music. Most noticeable is the maturity of the sound. I felt that the percussion section could have been just slightly tighter, but I have no right to say more - after all, I've never been in a section that sounded perfectly unified. It is a curse, really. The difficulty of the piece was undeniable, but not in the TS sort of way - it was very appreciable, very cinematic, climatic, and awe-inspiring. The contrast, the textures were perfectly served upon a palate of utmost disgestability. It was truly magnificent. I guess the real moment for me was when BH came up to me after the performance, shook my hand, and told me, 'Congrats man. That was IT. That was just IT. Nothing more can be said.' For the first time in a long time, I was instilled with some amount of unexplanable pride in my own alma mater which I have never really talked much about in recent times. While there is some amount of stigma in the subject, it is during moments like this where I feel myself rejuvenated, reborn. You guys have truly done me proud.

Ms Chan has grown thin over the years. Must be the stress. I almost don't recognise anyone from the band, but I guess that that is to be expected, having graduated six years ago. However, the strangest thing is that almost my entire section, of whom I don't even recognise the sec 4s, seem to know me. They say in hush whispers, 'is that Andrew?' and upon my affirmation they speak to me in some sort of humbled reverential tone, and I cannot possibly fathom why. I found it amusing how one referred to me as 'the Andrew'. Is it possible that I have overstepped the boundaries of notoriety such that my namesake has exceeded even my own knowledge? I can't understand why; but it is nice to meet with the juniors and imparting some experience (HAHA) to them. I met a lot of people there as well - I can't explain why - but a lot of RJ, RV and Yuhua friends, some of whom I barely recognise (and in fact, most of whom I can only remember by face) were there as well, waving to me, saying 'Hi', to my utmost unease and discomfort. I am not a sociable person by nature. I guess it has something to do with how I don't speak well.

Changing the subject. Had a serious discussion with my family about - that - thing. I don't speak much about it, to be sure. I doubt any of you will know what I'm referring to. I refer to an operation of sorts. A major one. That's all I will say, but suffice to say it is of serious consequence, and there are many considerations to be made. It has been troubling me for some time now. The question has always been, knowing that the consequences are dire, and by no means worth the reward in spite of the suffering, is it worth it at all? Am I willing to give up so much with the knowledge that it might not be as worth it as it might seem? In the 4-6 months after, will I, in the midst of my utmost suffering, wonder why I did it willingly? I remember people laughing at me when I walked up that stage. Them laughing the moment I spoke. Doubtless, they didn't laugh so hard once I won that competition. But they still laughed. It has never been something that has affected me to the point of frustration. But it does get annoying. Sometimes I wonder why I have to put up with this - why I am so different. Why couldn't I just have been built normal, with the talents I have? Could I have done so much more if I had?

I summoned the courage to let my family read my essay today. That almost never happens. They seemed impressed enough, but the consensus was that I was being too bombastic to easily appreciate what I was writing. But my brother did ask me if I was intending to put all this into a book. That was most awesome - my brother is like the most amazing writer I know. I remember last year, just reading his write-up sketch made my jaw drop in sheer incredulity. His writing is the stuff of legends, and to receive a comment like that from him is most encouraging, if not intimidating.

The form has finally arrived. The UCAS confirmation form. I will put Nottingham as my university of choice. London School of Economics rejected me, finally. I must say that it does not disturb me to know that. To have been considered, and given a chance to interview with such colleges like LSE and Oxford have been my utmost privilege and honour. Not many people will even have that chance. It does not make me feel inferior to know that I have been rejected. Nottingham is of an even level of prestige, one of the top law universities in UK and the world. That has never been in question. The question has always been whether I wanted to study overseas. I will fill this form for now, and I will be confirmed of my place - but that still has not answered the fundamental question of whether or not I want to study overseas. If NUS rejects me the choice will be easy. But if not, then I will have problems deciding. My mother was teaching me to cook today. After that experience, it is clear to me that I will no doubt have trouble surviving in a foreign country by myself.

I have much more to say, but not much time. I will further update this entry in due time.

ell: Thank you, I try my best!
Raffli: Yeah man it was nice to see you that day. Too bad you had to be so antisocial and not join us for supper after. BAH!
Nadia: Wow, thanks a lot, I don't think I've ever received such praise. I don't write to flaunt anything because I honestly don't really care, but when I get a comment like that I have to wonder why people say things like that. It is people like you that make me wonder whether the path I have chosen in life is really the one that I should be walking. Thank you in anycase - I try to do my best.

Paranoia out.

Bliss is

2005-04-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

What a day. It's 1am and I have to wake up at 6, but I don't care about anything. I need to put this down before the adrenaline fades.

First off, something stupid. My entire bunk got a week's confinement because some bloody idiot (whom none of us can stand) was caught smoking despite our best efforts. Thanks to the brilliant army's totally pointless mantra of 'all for one', we're all getting punished despite the fact that none of us can stand him, or that none of us even smoke. I hate voicing my racism, but I don't see how some people like Maja can be so steadfast and dependable, and some people like Raffli can be so brilliant, reliable and sociable. These are the rare exceptions. Anyway nothing I can do to reverse stupid mantras. I will not waste time even making fun of the pathetic little organisation when I could be talking about my heroes.

Oura asked me to join the SYWO. I don't know what to make of that. Bypassing auditions and everything. I guess they need people. I'm honoured, but I can't help but wonder whether I am good enough for them, because I seriously doubt it.

I just came home from A Tempo. Where do I begin?

Ah yes, my heroes.

I don't want you to think of me as my usual. For once, believe what I say, and do not think of me as the overdramatic, exaggerating sort.

This concert was one of the best I've ever been to in my life, and in fact, the best school concert I've ever had the honour and privilege of attending, period.

I'm so, so proud of you guys. How much you've grown (well I mean quality, but quantity too I guess) and matured. The sound is pure, honest and mature. RJ has never been able to swing, and it still can't - but what they do right, they do it damn right. The strong cadre of soloists mean nothing without something only RJ has; real, honest heart. RJ plays with so much feeling and emotion that it overflows that capacious doldrums of the music and awashes the audience with so many emotions that they themselves will not be able to comprehend.

Vincent was in goosebumps almost the whole way, raving to me like a lunatic about every aspect of the band, how amazing they were compared to us, how beautiful their tone was, how he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I couldn't be bothered with him. Why? Because I was trembling, quivering in my seat, literally (I don't usually have goosebumps, my reaction is to tremble, don't ask why), trying to hold myself back from doing stupid things I felt like doing, like crying, like standing up and shouting to the concert hall, 'DAMMIT, I WAS ONCE A PART OF THEM TOO!' I could feel the blood rushing through different parts of my body erratically, and pins and needles randomly prodding my senses, firing off my nerves uncontrollably in reaction to the sheer magnitude of emotions I had to contend with, emotions I had never felt during normal band performances. I couldn't comprehend.

While I was sitting there, I tried hard to physically dissect my emotions and label them in my head. I've only managed to identify a few. Their music was so absolutely enthralling that I was numb after the first song. I didn't care about anything else in the world - I didn't care that I would go home at a ridiculous hour despite an early morning the next day, I didn't care about my confinements, I didn't care about a thing in the world. For a brief two hours, I felt free - free from the shackles of responsibility and the burdens of the real world. I felt like a student again; young, voracious, daring, and most importantly, carefree. Time was of no consequence. Musicians all have their ups and downs. When you're down, a musician rarely has the will to summon his own determination to rise up again and meet new challenges. My last great inspiration was listening to Count Basie at the Esplanade. That was what, early last year? Never did I expect that I would feel such a rush, such a high tonight. I mean, yes, they ARE the Raffles band - but I always thought of my batch as the benchmark for excellence. These guys took that conception, shattered it, and raised the bar a thousand times over. These guys have inspired me once again. I've been recently down over everything and I just can't bother about my music - but seeing the cohesion and excellence shown tonight; I can't help but feel something within me kicking and fighting it's way back upslope. I feel jealous. Jealous that I've lost this feeling since I left RJ and never found it again. But happy that there are other people who love and cherish their music as much as I once did. I ask myself, what has changed so much that I, seeing a reflection of myself in them, am incapable of feeling that sort of determination once again?

The alumni was really good. I'm not just saying that. But I feel sorry that you guys were so overshadowed by the imposing shadow of the RJ symphonic. By yourselves you would be enough to thrash any lesser band into submission. I watched Pirates just before the concert to gear myself up for your piece (I really did), I must say it's an incredibly solid rendition of a very steady, imposing piece. In any case, turns out to be a blessing that I didn't join the alumni. Otherwise I would have missed the rest of the concert, which I wouldn't give up the world for. It was really nice to see Gary, Lionel, Zhexian, Nat, Cass, Enping, Zai, Edison and gang play though. I've always performed with them and never had a chance to see them from the other perspective. And we had a nice mini reunion of sorts after the concert, so the alumni was a blessing of some form as well.

Anyway this is not about me. This night was about them. I was there for one of the greatest rides of my life, nothing more. The saxophone solo for American Knights (Time to Take Back the Knights!) was absolutely gorgeous. The first clarinet dude was pure genius as he navigated through Symphony Number 5 like a maniac. I was truly, truly impressed. The trumpets were so high and so pure in tone, so confident, as though they were saying, 'we're bloody good and we know it'. And they were oh, so good. The clarinets section was astounding - even a plebeian like me, the 'manthedrumsrockandthat'salliknow' sort could tell that they were a fantastic section. And for the first time in a long, long time - I heard a percussion section so cohesive, and sure of what they were doing. It was as though they optimised, and picked the best players for every single instrument, and just gelled together into a single entity. Good job, Nic. I am forever your student. I might be more senior, but that is meaningless when I have less experience and less skill. The mallets were sharp, confident and accurate; the timpanis terrifying in it's ferocity but delicate in it's precision and execution. Stick crossing, speeding triplets, everything, so flawless. So many things I still have to learn...

I am not a person who doesn't know my stuff. I've run through the With Heart and Voice conductor's score. I know about the 6 16 timings and all the erratic changes, the canon structure of the piece, the harmony of the mallets. I want you guys to know that I know this and appreciate the effort you went through to learn all that. Playing one comp piece is one thing - playing 3 other pieces, Hunting Tower, Symphony No. 5, and With Heart and Voice, all comp piece standards, is ridiculously ambitious, and I would laugh in your face if you asked me to do it. But you guys pulled it off, slapping me in my face in the process, calling me a 'b%^&*', and proceeding to impress the hell out of several thousand people by playing that crazy repertoire with grace and finesse worthy of a professional band; effortless, enthusiastically, and beautifully. I am so, so awestruck.

You guys have no equal. I am being perfectly honest here. I don't give a rat's a#$ about any other JC or school. I don't care. Yeah yeah I guess I'm biased, being from RJ and all. But my RJ life would never have been the same without band. RJ and the RJ band are one and the same because of how intertwined they were for me.

And I will say this: your performance tonight, is one of those rare things, that reminds me why I love doing what I do. You make me proud just to be a musician. I can only hope to have the chance to emulate you guys one day, and once again be part of something that great.

Paranoia out.

No Regrets

2005-04-09T09:11:00.000-07:00

Interesting week, I guess. Past week has been a hectic work week - parade rehearsals everyday until late at night and the anniversary parade on Thursday. Figures that it had to pour moments before the parade started. Lightning was streaking across the sky, and all was well and happy in bandville. Until, in a moment of startling revelation, the officials realised that it wasn't their lives at risk, but ours, and happily sent us out to carry on with the parade anyway. Brasses and percussions were ordered down to the grounds with the woodwinds smirking away happily in the shed, some even taunting us (yes I'm talking about you, Paul). I guess we had the last laugh when, coming back drenched, cold and in a generally unhappy disposition, we were told that those who went on parade could take a full day off on Friday, compared to the half days the others got. So, about that last laugh - Ha. Ha. Ha.

Finally summoned the willpower to shift my lazy ass out of the house and onto the streets. I guess it started when my mom told me that it wasn't good for me to live out a virtual existence online while my friends were drifting further and further away from me every single day. I've been slowly shifting towards a more 'social' model of existence, still in it's hypothesis phase. I'm totally foreign to this whole 'communication' mumbo jumbo, apparently.

Still working on my next poem, Ode to a Rock: An Armed Forces Cookhouse Food Story. I'm debating on whether or not to write it in free verse, or to attempt something more challenging, like a Petrarchan sonnet or an English Sonnet. I guess strophic poetry has always appealed more to me, so I'll definitely be keeping the stanza breakings for sure. For those interested, this was inspired by a picture I took of this huge rock-shaped chunk of rice i pulled out from a pack of 'rations'. I swear that it could have been loaded into a cannon and fired at a wall in place of a siege engine.

The alumni sounds... okay. I hear the full band is amazing. Something about them being almost reminscent to my batch, that golden era (okay blowing our own trumpet doesn't put us in good light - but it's true!). If so I am indeed looking forwards to the concert; I chose not to play for my own reasons, the most pertinent of which being that I'm too damn lazy to actually come down for any rehearsals. At least I'll get to watch.

Had a nice little reunion with the guys - and Cassandra! Actually it was just down to Weibin, Cass and myself, the three of us. Odd since I've never actually been really close to Cass. But I found it a really, really pleasant time. We talked about our lives, happenings, gossip and some odd things for like 3 hours - man, Weibin has some really disturbing familiarity (fetish?) with serial killers. The best part was talking about RJ once again; and we would end up sighing and shaking our heads at how our RJ years had flown by without us even knowing it. The best years of our lives, never to return again. Does anyone actually realise the fortune they're surrounded by until it's all gone, nothing left but a distant memory in our mindscape? About Gary Beh shouting in the library whenever we spoke to him because he was blasting his MD and couldn't hear us; when Gary Beh wore that Marks and Spencers bag over his head during lecture; when Gary Beh scammed the hash browns from Macs; when we would solve every single problem on Mac's 'Answer this question and win a ice cream cone' deal during our 'A' level period. That was great. Putting up a quiz rewarding thinking and solving math problems - next to RJ, no less - that was a smart move! Remember fondly that I would almost have gone to NJ or HC, had Mrs. Chan and Mr. Tai not put in their utmost best to make me stay. I shudder to think what would have happened if I didn't have their encouragement and guidance. I owe them so much, and I have given them so little...

The best part was discussing about books, and I guess that's where I could always turn to Weibin; one of people more well-read than I ever will be (I hate you Raffli). From Roald Dahl's greatest works - his adult books, the Chocolate Factory/Matilda/Champion of the world/BFG to Tim Burton's films/books, Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy, to Douglas Adam's Hitchhiker's Guide, to Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors, to Larson's Farside Anthology; it's hard to find a person whom I can relate to to that extent. I so, so sorely miss this sort of intellectual conversation - discussing social critique in Dahl's children's works or the sheer elegance of Murder Mysteries, Nicholas was..., Chivalry etc. I have lost so, so much - where are the days when I could talk about this without people either scratching their heads, or cussing me out with some stupid comment about RJ and it's entire crop of first-class nerds? Where are the people who can truly appreciate all the fine things in life? I guess it's true that my classmates are the only reminder I have of that wondrous past. I must hold on tightly to that.

And eventually that question always comes up - it has come up many, many times, and I always have no answer to it. "If you're so obsessed with talking about literature, writing, analysing and looking so deeply into all these things - why are you taking law instead of literature, or journalism?"

I don't know. I fear that I never will. I love writing. I don't like reading, but I think I read enough - I like analysing text. The problem is that I don't think that I have any talent in it. I will never be a Gary Lim or someone of that calibre, even my brother for instance. I may, somehow, become better than an average person; but is that what I want, to merely be somewhere above mediocre? I don't have the overflowing talent that is required to stand out in this sphere. It may not be easy to succeed in law, but at least it's stable, so I hear. I don't think I'll ever be able to live off my writing, especially with this sort of horrid standards - much less teach a class of students, their eager minds, like empty jars waiting to be filled, by someone as untalented as me? What sort of satisfaction will I get out of that? But like I say, I will never know. And soon I will have to choose. The cogs have been set in motion since I got my sixth university reply; I will have to choose, and choose soon. Choosing the path which will go on ever after.

And that's all I can offer - because the more that question is asked, the more confused I get.

Robbie Williams > all, by the way.

Paranoia out.

In Review Order

2005-04-05T07:01:00.000-07:00

Hi again.

Back from another now-infamous hiatus!

Been caught up with some amount of writing lately - in camp, of course, thanks to my new Stowaway bluetooth mobile keyboard. Been trying my hand some forms of experimental literature; wrote a piece of writing and poetry based around the sixteenth century metaphysics. I guess I was inspired by Donne after having read some of his work during a particularly mind-numbing day in camp. It's a rather tongue-in-cheek, overly dramatic poem which turned out to be a real hit in the band office, with people scrambling and breathing down my neck to read it. I have no idea why; fads come and go extremely quickly. I thought it was pretty funny, anyway, and wrote an even more ridiculous practical criticism on my own poem in the tone of 'critics have expressed the opinion that...' despite the only critic being me. I'm now working on another prototype entitled - 'Ode to a Rock' which talks about the military cookhouse's food, revolving around a theme of geography (processes of igneous rock formation, millions of years of compression etc.). I hope that it will be a runaway hit as well.

Gerald and I shared a cab home today after a particularly long and gruesome day on parade. Well not really since I paid for almost everything. But that's not the point - the point is that, we met this really funny cab driver. Really chatty, hipster bandana-wearing dude presumably in his early thirties who was really eager to talk to us about the army, about our studies, about employment prospects in Singapore, about how biased the government is towards PRs, and how we're basically screwed and might as well all sign-on to the army. He kept lapsing into swears before narrowly pulling himself back from the edge with like, 'army blah blah blah, what the - fish' and Gerald and I would chuckle to ourselves. Eventually he gave up and went into full force, blunt, blatant, but funny in an obscure way cursing. By the time he reached Holland Road he jokingly said, 'so you two must have been from RJ or something right, since you live here...' and I said, 'yeah, we're both from RJ. We were almost in the same class,' and he kinda choked, 'WHAT? SERIOUS? I was only kidding... Oh my goodness then what are you two doing in the bands? Aren't you suppose to be like officers or something...' Seems like people very odd reactions towards people from RJ. 'No thanks, we're not retarded... yet...'

A few worthy mentions over the past weeks' happenings. Firstly was the paid engagement at swisshotel (Raffles City). First time the SAF bands have ever been subcontracted out to a private firm, with payment, to Prudential Insurance for one of their huge dinner things. It looked utterly ridiculous, with a parade band doing formation drills in a BALLROOM. Can you even imagine that? We didn't have much practice and we weren't really sure of what to do, but the actual event was actually really, really cool. Imagine that you're sitting in the ballroom just waiting, waiting, suddenly the lights go off, a spotlight tags the red carpet in the centre, smoke machines whirl and release their hazy contents, and a military band marches in blasting quick march music while advancing rapidly towards the stage in two parallel lines, with spotlights following us all the way. It was quite a sight. It looked really dumb during rehearsals, but the actual thing made me feel all tingly inside, and people all around us were like 'ooh' and 'aaah', 'wow that's cool'. The whole 'crashing-into-the-waitress' thing at the end was not particularly smooth (dammit I was so embarrassed) but it wasn't show stopping. I think we made quite an impact despite being such a lame band! Noise > quality, I say.

Change of Guard was on Sunday! We did main band again, down Orchard Road, this time doing the latin solo since we had only one rehearsal to get it right. We were not even granted permission to play the solo until the last day after much pleading on our part. It turned out okay, though I screwed up one of my six solos (hey I think that's an acceptable ratio...), and spent the rest of the evening convincing everyone that my 'blank verse' solo was part of the intended effect - to show that I was versatile enough to sculpt silence from the invisible tapestry of music, into an expressive and creative piece of ad lib art.

Ahhh who am I kidding, I freaking screwed that solo. Nevermind though, nothing major!

Having the guys over at my house last week was pretty cool. It's been a long time since I've seen them! No actually, it's been a long time since they've seen me. They always attend alumni pracs together, and much as I would like to, I'm committed every week for the forseeable future. Sometimes I can spare the afternoon or two, but I'm usually too lazy to come down given that it's so late. Anyway it's nice to know that most of them have more relaxed lives than even I do! That just means that at least none of us are suffering for the moment under that invisible, tyrannical grip. The more of us escaping from it, the better. I can't believe today they were boasting about how they could stand still for like twenty minutes without moving or doing a thing, and then proceeding to make us do so 'for practice'. Holy shit you made all of us stand there for ages doing NOTHING so you could show us you were really good at it, and have had tons of practice at it? Yeah, congrats, dipwads. Your lives are a hell of a ride on the wild side, aren't they? Geez!

Paranoia out.

Turquoise Daydreams

2005-03-22T05:24:00.000-08:00

Hello.

Wow, I was actually in a good mood before everything I wrote went up in smoke. Thanks!

Succint, 'goddammitimbloodypissed' update.

Ramu was great. He taught me all sort of new funk grooves and encouraged me to explore the latin side of drums a little more, going into subsets of mozambique/latin/salsa/samba/mambo/brazillian the whole she-bang. I didn't really catch all the terms he used, but I did learn some amazing things from him and LC the past week. Having put over 20 hours of practice into drums last week, I feel at an upward point in the fluctuating curve of musical progression which almost musician goes through. Jazz seems to be a bit of a grey area to me now that I look at it. I've spent quite some time on it without much success, so I can't quite tell. Ramu encourages me to be hardup on funk though, and I'm glad for that, because I really like this aspect.

Jiajun and Song Wee have made it to band. Congrats! More to share the highly entertaining 'must be RJ' jokes whenever we do something wrong. Critics have described it as 'a riot' and 'hilarious!' Welcome to the club.

Arvin and I were discussing how wasted we felt here. We miss our glory days long past, when challenging music actually played an integral part of our band lives. When we would cower in fear at the majesty of pieces of Fantasy Variations, Invocation, Incantation, Versuvius or Spartacus. Now we just play undemanding pieces without much enthusiasm or excitement, or the feeling that we're truly being pushed. At least Arvin has his alumni band to turn to. Much as I love RJ, the alumni feels tacked on like some other army vocation. I'm already in the army five days a week, I don't need six, thanks. Without my classmates sharing the enthusiasm for alumni, I frankly don't see the point as well.

The concert at Botanics last Sunday was fairly low profile. There was a crowd and all, but I wasn't really hardup about it. I didn't tell anyone about it either, and I was actually playing quite a few major roles. It was more of a relaxing concert than anything, not a serious stage-dressup affair. I miss those. The hype, the intense confidence, the pressure of the spotlights and the baking overhead lamps. The sweat, the silence, the anticipation all meld together into the most magical atmosphere for conducive music-making. I don't see the point of low-profile performance; I think it even serves the negative purpose of tarnishing our 'reputation'.

They took out the cool carribean piece which focused heavily on a really intricate percussion set up and a mindnumbing xylo solo. I was annoyed. It was really quite challenging and I wanted to do it; but they didn't want to take any risks on a volatile piece like this. Phantom was okay. People described my performance has 'good', and I felt thoroughly insulted. I don't perform to just be 'okay', 'good'. I didn't spend 8 years of my life grinding to be just 'mediocre'. You know what 'good' means? It's constructive criticism for poor, but I don't want to hurt your feelings. It's like taking pity on me. I didn't put in this much effort to get pity from you. If I wanted to be anything less than outstanding, I would have gone to Nationa... uh... erh, nevermind. You get my point. I felt as though you'd insulted my raccoon and slapped me several times with an ugly stick. I spent the next hour berating myself so much that they took everything they said back and scrawled death threats to me, swearing to hunt me down if it would take them the rest of their lives. That made me feel better. Annoying the hell out of people always does.

I passed my theory! No endless pain and suffering and humiliation for failing it for the rest of my life. I'm not saying that I won't still be persistently mocked for various valid reasons, but at least there's one less source for it! Now if only I could stop being a lazy bugger and actually apply for lessons sometime in the distant future.

NUS application fever! The three essay questions are most amusing. I like essays. And I like to delude myself into thinking that I have an upper hand when it comes to such things. Then I beat myself into submission after that and remind myself that while I love writing, I'm actually quite horrible at it. My friends described my essay draft as 'bastardIhateyou' and 'wahlao... you make me want to withdraw my own application', while my mother spent a good period of time critisizing all it's flaws and sheer pointlessness smog. I'm glad she's honest with me. She says I write well but go out of point all the time, even from the start when my slant on the question is all out of wack. Apparently I should have named my essay senza misura, because that's exactly what it is - a free-form essay about music, not law. She says it would be an amazing essay - if I were applying to some conservatory of music because of the depth and variety of musical references. That's the sort of criticism I need. Not stuff like 'OhMyGawdIhateyouformakingmereadthis'. My essays are now so subpar that I can't help but feel dismay at my own degeneration. Two years ago this would have been child's play, but now in an atmosphere that encourages a total void in your head, and getting rewarded for acting in blatantly stupid and illogical ways, it's hard to come up with things that make any sense. Truly I am becoming one of the Mindless Ones. A spawn from the very warp of Chaos itself.

Back to my essays! Then I might actually be able to get an application done within the next five years or so. And don't say I don't update, because I do! Woo!

Oxygen is good

2005-03-01T06:13:00.000-08:00

Funerals can be a very depressing thing. Especially when you're only told about it on the way home on Friday afternoon.

So we had to spend the better part of our Sunday in camp to prepare for some army funeral for some guy we don't know about. That's okay, I think it's one of the only vaguely meaningful things we actually do. Still, the hassle of dressing up, the waiting, the forfeiting of our lunches does take a toll on our patience and empathy after some point, especially since we're somewhat touchy about having to come back on a weekend. Worst still was that I spent the better part of Saturday at the driving centre, and the rest of it just sitting around stoning *raises eyebrow at Gary*. So I didn't really have much of a weekend to speak of.

Then there's this whole Botanic Gardens 'Concert' thing they keep talking about. I really don't think it's a concert as much as hanging out on the stage in the park, hitting some notes and hoping that the flocks of domestic workers are actually taking the time to at least hear what we have to say, while tossing those frisbees around and spreading out the groundsheets. I opted not to play anything of consequence in return for the Phantom of the Opera drums/drumset part, the same composition that RJ played at our concert during my year. It sure brings back memories, as well as the whole 'goddamitimissrjthisbandstinks' feeling. And I finally get to play Gerald's part! Well well. Arvin suggested I use the piece to pay tribute to the great Gerald Wu himself - and after some discussion, we've finally written out and memorised the Gerald Wu rendition of Phantom - ie, Phantom of the Rock Concert, with every fill-in and syncopation nailed down flat. If anyone should be so bold or utterly bored of their lives, they may witness our awesome remix of this Gerald Wu classic played by none other than myself, at the concert. I would describe this version as a 'daring, bold, and poignant' work of our time.

The CoG parade at Orchard Road is this Sunday. The usual march down, the usual march pieces - lots of drum cadences within the pieces this time. Arv and I can't remember even a third of them. It's quite funny when we both don't play and hope that either one of us does play it, creating this really awesome, almost artistic emptiness on the great canvas of the music. The much hyped-about drum solo is somewhat in troubled waters. We can't get the balance right, and it seems that some parts are a little too easy, while the rest being too cheesy - like some segment reminiscent of some secondary school polyrhythm. Those things you think are really awesome in upper secondary because of your clever and incredible attention paid to the accents in a set of polyrhythms; then by J1, it gets stale, by now, it's downright taboo and utterly noobish. Even we scoff at ourselves listening to ourselves - what more the other plebeians flocking the streets of Orchard Road? Play some techno-esque drum solo and I think we're Gold with the classier of the population, I say.

It was inevitable that I mention this, but I've finally gotten my new phone! Or pda. Or more like, PDA with phonish functions. Okay I have no idea how to classify this -thing-. It is pretty lame as a phone, if anything. It does have transcriber, virtual keyboard and phone keypad for various methods of text and number input - but I must say that for the purpose of messaging, nothing beats solid buttons, and a smear-proof screen. Even the ringtones are quite detestable; the vibrate function is shoddy and almost totally absent, and the clock loses at least 10 minutes by the day. Aside from all that, I'm totally sold on this. It's a work of art that truly makes me feel at the apex of the balcony of the holy technological fortress, overlooking an a population of puny mortals, ignorant and isolated from the greatest digital developments of our age.

I have managed to convert at least 4 people in the past week to my cause - people who have seen the light and are now choosing to walk the same path. Yes, in getting their own O2 Xda II mini. I would recommend it to anyone too - it's now out of stock but well worth the wait. Think about it - MSN messenger on the go, hotmail on the go, programs like word and excel and internet explorer, windows media player, games like bejeweled 2 and bookworm working in perfect harmony in the background as you snap a high resolution video of some 15 minute long gig. It's amazing. It's lighter than an Ericsson P910, less bulky, and much cooler. And of course, it looks much nicer. Sweet. Combine that with a bluetooth Jabra headset and Targus bluetooth keyboard and you've got the tools to conquer the world while having a chat over lunch.

Buble's newest album is a little - funny. He's got a great voice, I maintain since I got hooked on the first album - but somehow it seems to lack the personality and charm of say, Cullum. I'll give it a few more day's chance to strike a proper chord with me before making a decision on how much I really like it. I liked Robbie's 'Mack the Knife' more, and Bono/Frank Sinatra's so-called 'duet' of 'I've Got You Under My Skin' more as well too. I'll just have to listen to all of them several more times in that case...

Oh yeah reatest compliment this week came from Alvin, my senior. He said, after we sight-read Phantom, 'wow, I didn't know you really COULD play drumset that well. I thought you were just some technological geek.' 'Uh. What?' 'You know, like only knowing how to play computer games and ramble on about computer specs and stuff. I meant that as a compliment! I think...' 'Oh? Thanks! I think...' Then awkward silence. Wonderful, I'm glad I inspire that sort of confidence in people.

The following is a true story. I make up NONE of this.

I saw a top-secret, high security clearance army document today. Hopefully no authorities will pursue me for this, for I am about to divulge and disclose this highly sensitive information to you all now. It is very likely that knowledge of this sort will be invaluable to our enemies and will likely put our country into jeopardy should it fall into the wrong hands. Without further ado, I now share the contents of this highly, highly confidential document of utmost strategic importance, imperative to the survival of our homeland.

The two page document is as follows: a flow-chart detailing a strategy so brilliant and well-thought-out that it must have taken an elite group of tacticians, with their immensely huge intellects, spending innumerable hours brainstorming over their holographic-projection tables and triple-layer, voice recognition/retinal scanner/presidential keylock encrypted laptops. The flowchart describes a method of solving and responding to problems of utmost crisis in ways unthought of, ingenious in it's execution, and almost beautiful in it's effectiveness and ruthless, uncompromising efficiency. The tactics are so described in several stages, as follows (for the safety and simplicity of this document, the words have been totally altered to illustrate only the essential, summarised content):

-Restricted-

1) Identify problem.
2) If you cannot solve the problem, speak to a superior.
3) If he can't either, speak to another superior.
4) If he can't either, speak to the next superior.
5) Identify problem.
6) Attempt to solve problem.
7) Problem solved. Good.
OR
8) Problem not solved. Bad. Move on to point 9).
9) Attempt to solve problem again. Refer to 7)

-Confidential-

Having shared this, I can only hope that I will not be hunted down and captured for questioning due to my discovery of such potent content. It is true that such information will devastate our country should anyone other than us ever think of such devices to wage our private conflicts. Personally, having viewed this TWO-page article, I have learnt more than the summation of my years of training and academic qualification. Please do not pass on such information to our enemies, for they will wield a terrible, terrible power if they should ever obtain this. It will be incredibly dangerous.

To them, I mean. They might laugh to death, then we wouldn't have all this strategic brainstorming which might allow us to formulate plans even greater than we've ever imagined. Things like, 'How to Eat Burrito'.

1) Find Burrito.
2) Eat Burrito. If burrito is not warm, proceed to 3).
3) Warm Burrito. Proceed to 2).

See? I can do stuff like that too, albeit with a lot of effort, 16 hours of planning, 2500 people on standby for 26 hours on end, and 4000 vehicles at my disposal. They ought to put me onto some panel for sensitive, country-building intelligence. I'm a freaking genius.

passerby: wow that's really - vague haha! I don't know if you're referring to me, yourself, or like, the world in general. But if you happen to, in the offchance, be referring to me, thanks! I think!
n1n9: wut's wrong with learning drums? Drums are COOL OKAY? Just not the way I play it. And bass is just awesome! Especially when they avoid me like the plague. As long as no bassist ever combines with me, they'll be awesome by default!
yahui: what cheemness - and don't make fun of my bad spelling in long words please. I'm not grandiloquent by nature but I'm assiduous when it comes to people poking fun at my meagre language skills...

2005-02-22T06:41:00.000-08:00

Wow, isn't this incredible? For the first time in ages I've actually got something to write about. As per normal, on Tuesday nights.

I guess the last interesting thing that happened was the RJ concert last friday - the first of their concerts I've been able to watch since I left RJ and was forced into mindless servitude. It was also a chance to see the new campus for the first time. The campus is huge - and consequently rather desolate and cold-looking. It looks forbidding in someway, with the bland grey concrete flooring and the barren walls. I'm sure they'll do something about it soon, though. But at the moment, it looks like a factory. A factory that churns out really smart people. The lifts, the rooftop tennis courts, the general impression of some form of contained urban sprawl. And the rather amusing fusion reactor looking central building apparently referred to as the incubator, by some. Charming.

The concert was quite entertaining. I don't think much for the new multi-purpose hall - and I heard about the humorous event where the school tried to charge the band for using it - and I don't think it was built with acoustics in mind. Or for people who can only withstand temperatures of greater than sixteen degrees. The place was freezing, and the reverb was phenomenal. The performance itself was quite amusing, with a typical RJ-esque fusion of classical music and classical music. That was pretty good, I guess, if not for the occasional draggy parts where classical music was being played. To be honest I liked the second half more, naturally, with the chain of pop/swing pieces - that was a lot more entertaining. But let's be frank about something - RJ can't swing. They never have been able to, and it's quite likely they never will. It's been like that before my batch, during my batch, the next batch, and I have no doubt that the legacy will be passed down. One thing that did blow me away though, was their competition piece. Honestly, it makes our comp piece look like cake - it's quite cringe-inducing in it's difficulty. And it's a very funky contemporary jazz piece - how cool is that? The bass guitarist is like - wow. Diploma standard. The 'D' word always intimidates me. Quite amazing, I have no doubt that he's some improvisational genius with a good feel for funk and jazz or something. Very inspirational in his skill and pose. It's really a pity that there aren't any more rankings after my year - because I'm fairly confident that RJ will have no problem holding up those laurels another time this year round. The good thing, I guess, is that my batch will be immortalised as the last batch to secure those laurels for the forseeable future. Sweeeet.
Meeting juniors is always a traumatic yet entertaining experience, as I take every possible opportunity to make fun of them at their expense. This time, all the RI people were victimised by me. They looked very lost and violated every single time they crossed my path. Very amusing. I shall make it a point to intentionally filter them out for violation next time. All in all, a very enjoyable concert, and a nice excuse to get together after such a long period of separation.

The guys watched Equilibrium at my place, and it was a first time for me as well. To the unaquainted, Equilibrium is this Matrix spinoff-ish movie, if you could call it that, that sort of emphasises spectacular action and astounding special effects over anything else. The story is a convoluted mess I'd say, but you'd barely notice. It's some thing about literature and fine arts being globally banned, hence removing any form of human emotional intelligence from the face of the earth, and then some bugger has to go out and ruin all of that. No wonder we didn't bring it in here, I'm sure they wouldn't want to risk our people suddenly becoming intelligent and becoming culturally enlightened. That would be a pox on society! Very sweet gunfights nonetheless, and anyone who watched anything like Matrix just for special effects should keep a look out for this one.

I registered for driving and have no idea what to do next. I also intend to apply to NUS law faculty this year but have no idea what to do whatsoever. Well, I guess there's always tomorrow...
I've been using my really ghetto Siemens for a long time now since I traded my 6100 in sometime back. When is my stupid Xda II arriving?! There's only that many more times I can cancel my messages in the midst of typing because the buttons refuse to register unless they're pressed so deep in they eventually become reluctant to pop back out. And the beeping of the monotone midi ringtone just drive me crazy - sounds like some bullcrap music from Need for Speed Underground. Except that the phone has a lower risk of giving you brain tumours and congenital diseases.

Ramu's been driving me mad with his mambo chords, and has been incredibly enthusiastic about teaching me mallets ever since I first bugged him about it. Now everyday I stare at the xylo/marimba with a gaping mouth and dead-eyed stare while he goes on and on about mambo chords, the typical intervals and chord progression involved in the improvisation. And somehow my friends, having discovered that I've got some perceived proficiency at using four mallets, have proclaimed me a deity of the mallet instruments, for no other reason than because I can hold two mallets in each hand without dropping one of them within the first five seconds of picking them up. I'm almost pleased about it. LC has also chosen a great time to throw more drumset grooves at me in a bid to drive me utterly senile. This time it's some pocari (sic?) shuffle thing, which is some form of full-time shuffle as compared to the normal 'half-time' funk shuffles that we commonly know of. Uh. Yeah. Okay. Buggers.

A small farewell to Germ! Who's leaving tomorrow! Parting is such sweet sorrow - you know that it's good for your friend but somehow the thought of them becoming so inaccessibly far away is a very depressing thought. I certainly will miss someone having to put up with my nonsense during band practices. She's been putting up with me since J1, all the way till now, and I think that is just an incredible, almost superhuman, feat. Thanks so much! Have a safe and pleasant journey to Sydney - I'm sure you'll have a great time and unforgettable experience there. To pursue your dreams in a place so faraway, and to make that decision and all the arrangements yourself - I can't fathom the depths of your resolve and determination. I can only hope that one day I'll will be able to muster an iota of that sort of spirit when the time to make a decision comes. And come soon, it will...

Edifying Research

2005-02-15T06:39:00.000-08:00

because mandatory updating is an oxymoron

Augh. Now why in the world would you want me to blog?

Things are just too dull to warrant any form of data entry I'm afraid. Just thinking of something to pen down is like a widening fissure in my brain. Life is just so monotonous and brainless that it feels utterly abhorrent to attempt to pull out something from the depths of nothing. My brain has atrophied to the point where it hurts just to attempt to pull myself out from a loss of words.

If anything CNY was particularly unspectacular. The highlight of the event was playing streets of rage 2 at my cousin's house on an emulator just for the heck of it, only to realise with horror that I know where most of the hidden powerup locations are, and what bosses are coming up next, and what sort of glitches to expect on the next screen. The last time I played it was like ten years ago - my mind must have some sort of latent capability that I never knew of - the ability to retain absolute nonsense to the most trivial detail while forgetting what operation comes next during a problem sum. But if anything, it's a great way to materialise a short holiday break for me to stay at home and slowly creep towards oblivion in perfect isolation.

Watching Ramu is nothing less than edifying. He is simply the best mallet player I've ever seen and know personally. I've never seen a person who can control mallets almost exactly as well as he can play his diploma piano pieces. What's great about him is that he's not a classical bullcrap person - he actually plays music to, you know, entertain people. He writes his own pieces, and gets people like LC to arrange them - and you'll know their special when you listen to their mambo duet on the marimba. When you see 9 mallets fall in perfect, flawless harmony of a seriously technical line of music, that is saturated with total awesomeness, and an incredibly melodic line, you know that these people are a class of their own. They swing on the mallets better than some of the jazz pianists I know, and they sound oh-so-good; when you see him improvise, your jaw will drop with his flawless execution and blending of jazz and minor chords. He has a mallet bag just to keep his 16 pair of mallets, all of different size and specification - some of them he weaved himself. Yes, he actually makes his own mallets and explains nonchalently to me how they actually sound better than conventional ones. Come on! Who the heck weaves his own mallet yarn heads?! He applies sports grips to his mallets and does modifications and everything. I could stand there for hours just listening to them, emotions flowing like a wave; the ebbing and flowing, the washing and backwashing of sheer inspiration and complete depression, knowing that never in my life will I ever be able to do something as incredible as they do. Rarely can friends instill such emotions in you, just by being there, no more, no less. He is slightly older than me, just like Wen - and the two of them started about the same time as I did. That only serves to accentuate the fact that these people are so much more diligent and talented than the majority of us will ever be. And that's just pretty annoying.

Sometimes we're misled into thinking that just because we're in the proximity of genius, we'll somehow be influenced by them. We're brought up with that sort of optimism and never-say-die spirit, the ridiculous belief that some of their hard work and talent will rub off onto us, like paint scrape off a car, like some metaphorical form of osmosis. Someday, however, we'll realise that all these promises of reciprocation of hard work - like propaganda - are an empty construct of adults, built to dam back that impending, omnipotent force of despair from overwhelming us - a sort of placebo treatment to shield us from the bitter, bitter reality of inequality. And some day we will tell our children these lies too, because that is our function, our purpose for being here. Exposure is different from passive learning, and therein lies the crux of the problem: that odds are, you're just some totally untalented person without any chance in hell of achieving something you can be truly proud of, ever. We're brought up to think that we're all different and good at what we do, that we are unique, and that we should pride ourselves on our individuality, that we are all special - but that is not the case, and the truth can never be so simple or clean. It has never been. Yet most of us will stay here, whether we like it, or are ever aware of it, to form the stepping stones, the foundation for which the rare few may ascend to their dizzying heights, while we grin with imbecilic, self-absorbed glee at the hypnotic visage of our own glamour and false accomplishments, which we hold onto so tightly, with the desperate hope that it will make us valuable, and consequently, useful in some way that is more than just a mere technical definition. But that is not why we - the commonfolk - are here. We need these people as much as they need us - them, for their visions of perfection that we extract our delusions, our lifeblood, from, and us, for their grand buffet of prey to choose from, every single one of us a morsel to feed their egoism and inspire them to even greater heights. And while some people may, in the rare offshot, break out from their illusions of grandeur, most of us will stay here, our minds poisoned by our insecurity and our fears, being forcefed a diet of palatable lies and appetising hopelessness, a royal spread of lavish mistruths. Then what we've ingested slowly materialises in our stomachs as a blend of agonising toxins and fluid discourse, having been unsheathed upon digestion, eating us from the inside, slowly but surely, like creeping moss lining the edge of the cold dark waters, a festering wound upon our frail selves that afflicts us only when we are old enough to realise it. Cruel, cruel hope.

zinath: hey man I didn't even know you came here! nice to hear from you again! No, I haven't seen the clip, but I have now, and it was awesome. Thanks man, it was really interesting especially to someone like me. I've seen a time attack of Mario 1, done in the same style. This is really helpful in helping to broaden my existing knowledge of useless trivia :p thanks, do send more of the sort if you do have it.

Against the wall

2005-02-05T06:35:00.000-08:00

I honestly have no idea how females can do it. It demands more physical and mental endurance than a route march or a major league examination. There's so much doubt and insecurity involved as well - you never know whether your work will bear any fruits after hours upon hours of all that arduous toil. It's so utterly unpleasant that no rational human would voluntarily subject themselves to it more often than they have to. But for some reason, females pull it off with an almost deliberate ease, viewing it as some form of nutrient to the very cycle of their lives.

Shopping.

They can do it for hours on end, their minds utterly geared towards the task at hand; a type of devotion and dedication that rarely manifests itself under any normal circumstances, almost to the point of fervent fanaticism. They remember every price to the cent, the colour coordination, the locations, the sales, and then they process it and categorise it while adding their own stylistic flairs at any opportunity, etching it upon their vast memory tablets that seem to have been crafted for the very purpose. I don't even remember to tie my shoelaces before stepping into the car every morning. They walk for eons, visiting one place, then another, and coming back to the first having done a proper cost-advantage analysis, then to cross-reference this to the place down the road before sorting it out into varying scales of colours, price and taste. On high-heels, mind you. Then at the end of the twelve hour experience, when the shops start to close, when the cars filter out of the streets, the ground starts to let loose the latent heat stored during the day, when you start hearing the city groan under the pressure release of the millions of footsteps, and the noise of the traffic slowly gives way to the stark glare of the lamps, they decide that nothing they've seen today is of their preference, then walk home empty handed, yet feeling both satisfied and proud of the day's work.

I will never understand.

Which is why I shop like once every four years or something like that. I don't care about appearance, what's 'in' or 'out'. I’m purely function over form. I don't care what's 'in season' or where the most expensive shirts are. But the point is, I run out of clothes just like any other person. And no matter how much I hate it, I have to come out from the safety of my hobbit hole and brave the tempest once in awhile, and head out to scrounge up some of those revered textiles. I had no idea I had friends who were this fashion saavy or discriminating when it came to what they wore. They kinda dragged me, totally dumbfounded, around, I guess. I do have my preferences - shirts that are as plain as possible, at best with some centralised logo or something designed not to catch any attention whatsoever. For that purpose I usually head down to Stussy, Quicksilver or Mambo, which I did. I picked up five shirts in total, a pair of Levis jeans, Quicksilver berms, and some shirt from thirty seven deg. I realised that I'm also a sucker for anything with any sort of percussion motif on it. Wen Chao realized this and intended to cash upon my fetishes by printing his own shirts from his home iron-ons, which I promptly agreed was a good idea, much to his dismay. We formulated the plan to utilize his technological genius for our own benefits and to convert his web domain into an online shop to con people as obsessive and irrational as I am to buying his shirts. Which is, of course, every other human being.

It’s nice to catch up with the guys again. When we sit around and just talk about the old days of RJ with fond memories, a heavy heart and biting sarcasm. Gary turned up in his Long 4s and his officer rank. We were utterly disgusted at the pride he had in his country. Honestly, who in his right mind does that? Alumni band prac was quite fun, with my fairly skeletal section. The songs were play are typically quite fun, despite not being of truly pop orientation. Band prac, more than anything, is for the sake of socializing and catching up with your old friends. Coupled together with our juniors hatred and disregard for their seniors, alumni band pracs are truly turning out to be a convenience in just meeting up every week. And to hear some amazing musicians again. It’s been awhile.

I invested in a Tama Rhythm Watch today. I can sense that people are getting pissed at the rate I buy new gadgets, but I can’t really help that I’m a technophile. It’s just so awesome – With each subdivision of the beat having it’s own volume control, with it being programmable, and (oh my goodness) – it’s stereo! Dual output compared to the cheapo metronomes which ping one of your ears into submission while the other ear kind of goes deaf listening to you playing your instrument. Annoying. I decided to stop bitching about my utter lack of talent for awhile and start gathering the resources to practice myself silly. I managed to eke out time, and grudging diligence, to churn out at least ten hours of practice the last work week. I’m lucky in that sense, I guess. While at work, you don’t feel like doing anything – but when you get down to it and make use of your time, you’ll realize how lucky you are compared to other people out there, trapped in their commitments, work, and brutally mindless outfield toil. I know I’m not good, but to be fair to myself, the proper method of judgment is to take a wider census of the situation – and I think I’ve had a lot of improvement since I came here. While I may never be as good as some people, at least I have the chance to spend two years bettering myself, bridging that gap, or at least pulling myself back together. This two years are for me to continue growing in confidence, capability, and most importantly, maturity, while other peoples’ lives are still frozen in the stasis of their bindings.

CoG tomorrow. I hate working on Sundays. And I’m not even getting Monday off. At least I can look forwards to next week. Days freed, promises to be fulfilled. Hopefully I can take my mind off the more depressing things in life, at least for the week.

For Now

2005-01-31T03:52:00.000-08:00

Wow it's been sometime since my last dated entry. I'm sorry to those who actually had to see my last one - I decided that it was something I should keep it more personal so I removed it from public viewing. Nonetheless thanks to those who did encourage me - namely germ - who've been able to put up with my sporadic temperament. You guys rock.

Was rather annoyed that I didn't manage to pick up Joshua Tree at bargain bin prices which I would've thought would have become of that old album - but it turned out to be so awesome that I didn't regret it one bit. I mean, I've listened to it before, but I don't recall it to be this rocking. It's not surprising that it's been hailed as U2's best. The youthful energy of the 1987 album is just so outstanding in every single one of their songs. And it's so true to the pop/rock culture of old - certainly a far cry from the new age direction they're taking right now. Still, it's a different direction that is still appreciable in it's own ways - while still ensuring that some of the retro flavour still manifests itself within the music, together with some of the energy. Still, I can't help but get the feeling that Bono's age is taking a toll on the presence of his voice.

Alumni practice last week was nice - I did get to meet new new juniors as well as speak with the batch I'm more familiar with. Somehow I always feel at home when I'm in a Raffles compound, and I can't explain why. RWinds had quite a small turnout, but mostly from my batch, so it was a tiny reunion of sorts. Did get to see some people I haven't seen in some time, as well as meet up with my whole section - even Germaine who won't be playing with us for the concert, and Edison - less Meiling though (tuition? wtf?). Pity. And I'm sorry that Weibin feels a sort of emptiness in his life. I empathise with the way you feel - about how you feel like you were put on Earth with the purpose to play World of Warcraft - and I have to say that to some extent, I believe that in some way, our purpose of being, every man and every woman, the placement of our surroundings, the cohesion and alignment of the stars were all prearranged for the date when WoW would finally surface to take it's rightful place as the crowning pinnacle of Man's entertainment.

I digress. The songs were quite okay - ranging from Gerald's abysmal showing on the drums with some unpronouncable mexican piece which we all were clueless about. That was quite funny. He was so sian that he kinda stared into blank space without flipping over his score at all while only moving one hand for the better part of the piece. I played the jazz set for American Graphity - though admittedly some obscure one. I'm glad that I can still sightread pieces, at the very least. I'm not completely worthless! Woo! 7th night is a lot more exciting than the title might suggest.

Boon is pretty good at the set. I hope he buys my double bass pedal, because it's a waste to be in the possession of a feeble little runt like me. I can't live up to my damn reputation. I hate it, and I hate whoever's been spreading these malicious lies about me. The worst lies aren't those that degrade you - it's those that elevate you to the point where you feel embarrassed, not because you don't want to show off, but because you know that if you did, somehow you'd feel like you've disappointed your peers as well as yourself.

JMPD pride day was really funny. It's a rather silly event with no real purpose, but that's nothing new around here. We started saying that maybe the army should have 'common sense day' once in awhile, but of course that would never happen. There was this ridiculous human scrabble word game in which the band sent me out as 'the ace up their sleeve' - then they realised that in doing so I would actually become a scrabble tile and wouldn't really actually help them brainstorm anything. So I was just kinda pushed here and there without even taking an active part in forming words. In a non-related event, we lost terribly. Cough.

Then we made this newspaper pyramid thing which was a 'mass-participation' project - but being the honourable servicemen we were, it was a mass eye-power project; basically we kinda stand there trying our best to look busy while doing nothing apparently. Chao keng; eye power; things you don't learn in a classroom. Soon we gave up and just stood around doing nothing without even bothering with the 'for show' element. We won that competition, by some form of divine intervention, I think. I don't know. I know it involved a tree somehow. We spent the rest of the time proclaiming that we were really feeling the pride, so could we just bloody go home now?

New year, new pattern. That's our motto. CoG this week, but I'm doing the support band, so nothing much to speak of. First time I had sectionals on the parade square. Hmm. So my weekend is kinda wrecked. Bah. Oh well, just looking forwards to the holidays for now.

This PA comic is just so charming in it's idealism and truth. Man I love these guys.

I got my LNAT (Law National Admissions Test) results. Not that the score actually matters, of course - but I got '14'. I have no idea what 14 means, but they added that for the sake of context, 'the average score is 13'. YES! I'm better than average!! WOOO! It's been said that I'm a genius beyond mortal comprehension, but to be awarded one point above the average plebeian - boy, am I winded. Someone deflate my head, my ego is going out of wack.

Decided to stop whining for a bit and get down to practice today. I had to beg Arvin to teach me some of his latin grooves much to his initial amusement and eventual irritation, I think. I just couldn't get it for the longest period of time. Truly talentless. I've got it mostly figured out by now, I guess. Spent a good few hours just mugging new vamps and solos from my rudiments book, before finally realising how awesome this book is. It's difficulty level is perfect - just enough to challenge the hell out of me while keeping me trying all the way because I know there's no reason I can't do it. All those years of practising strokes have finally come into sharp focus with this book, which really forces you to bend your brain around each of it's uniquely challenging tasks. The beauty of rudiments - you're so incredibly familiar with them, you've practised them for ages and have a solid grip on them, but once you have to apply them you go haywire. This book seeks to eliminate that. Truly noble.

These are the days

2005-01-18T06:25:00.000-08:00

It's that time of the week again - server outage! The precious few hours in a week where I have control over my life once again, for the moment; like the weekend release from the school hour curfews of the yesteryears. In a way it's refreshing and depressing all at once.

Congrats to me on being the first level 60 hunter in my server out of a population of vaguely 10,000 people - the highest possible at this point of time. Wasn't easy, but I enjoyed the road here. Still, there's so much more to do - all those secret quests I can't tell other people about, the secret invitations from the elite legions... the fun has barely started.

Regardless - the little RJ gathering last week. It's nice to see so many people back together again, especially taking into account the number of people overseas, coming back, returning, the schools terms starting again - it's not easy to organise on a date agreeable with everyone. But the turnout was much bigger than I expected, managing to reach about the same number as last year. A few of the usual crowd didn't turn up though, and I wonder why *accusing eyes at some of the girls - and you, Lionel. Okay lah guard duty excuse is accepted. Screw you, army.*

The food was typical, the company was fun - the officer talk was annoying, the bridge was nostalgia-inducing. Yahui's 'must have a balanced diet' at the barbecue was very funny. All the best to Ryan and Yankai who're leaving this week! Oops, uh... Yankai, I mean. Ryan left on Monday.

Just for diversity sake, I've been playing my GBA recently - Kingdom Hearts, Chain of Memories. It's nice to have friends in the guild who own a gameshop in real life - the discounts and perks are always welcome. Anyway, it's a nice followup to the original PS2 game, which I maintain that anyone should play if they have a PS2. It's a brilliant and creative fusion of Squaresoft's and Disney's character - an unlikely match which was initially met with a lot of snark and criticism, but surprised everyone with it's style and perfect blend of action and storytelling, together with doses of mature humour, and flashbacks to our pasts; imagine walking around Wonderland one moment, then entering Pinnochio's Monstro, the whale, the next taking a little walk down Aladdin's Agrabah? Fighting off the foe with Beauty and the Beast's Beast himself, finally uniting the couple in a fairytale gone awry in the Beast's Bastion - things like that stay with you. Bringing the little mermaid around, having a massive showdown with Ursula - come on, who doesn't know all these characters? It told a story of wonder and illusion, and to my knowledge, only has one flaw - a highly convoluted storyline which borders on nonsensical. But that's easily forgiven for it's ingenuity, charm, and most importantly, soul.

This followup, the precursor to KH2 which is due to come out this year, is no less worthy, implementing a card battle system which feels tacked on in concept, but well-defined in execution. It retains all it's charm and pushes GBA hardware to it's limits, which is all commendable. Importantly, it furthers the series - the storyline still feels a little unsure of itself though, and tends to stir things up in a stilted manner; but that's more or less a Squaresoft signature. Nice game, and holds it's own well.

Finally made more concrete plans to change my phone instead of the empty talk this time round. Trade-in values tabulated, and plan renewal taken into account, the new phone should be quite reasonably priced. I only hope it's 416 mHz processor, 64mb ram and 1.3mpixel camera can retain it's technological threshold for a little longer than I'm thinking.

Oh yeah something funny happened yesterday - my usual clique and myself found a new place to, uh, 'rest' during the day - one of the studios which apparently serves no purpose, and is almost never unlocked. Trick is, it can be entered via a side door from Band B's studio - just that it's blocked by a virtual maze of chairs which nobody ever bothers to navigate. However, we found a way in, and hence claimed the studio our safe haven - only thing is, after we all 'started resting' on the floor, the studio door suddenly burst open and one of the staff sergeants came in. He booked the studio earlier and had drawn out the keys, and having unlocked the doors and walking in, I have no idea what must have gone through his mind: 'wait, the door was locked for days - and these guys are in here? uh...' We just filed out of the room sheepishly with him giving us puzzled looks. That was highly embarrassing. Good thing he was one of the more pleasant people around the place, or we would have truly regretted it. Still, chances are low that it will happen again...

Parade hell the next few days. Ick. Well, time to get updated with the events happening around me, before my 'free' time outstays it's welcome...

Seriously weird comment of the week:
Gerald Wu, coming up to me: 'eh, you smell very nice.'

Uh okay, thanks.

That Old Devil Moon

2005-01-13T05:18:00.000-08:00

Hmm been a little quiet lately. With my rare maintanence break here, I'd better update a little before I'm dragged off to my other commitments.

Of course I won't mention the rather embarrassing situation where my parents caught me still awake in the morning playing warcraft after they actually woke up. Let's just say that the quest I spent six hours doing wasn't worth the consequences. Argh.

Today I discovered that the new RJ is actually exactly behind my bus stop where I change bus everyday. Amazing how long it took me to notice. At least, I THINK that's RJ... It's the one where the field faces upper thompson road, right?

My bi-monthly barrack orderly duty was no less than a bout of terror and relief. First we 'lost' the keys to Dragon Hall - which is the central band's bandroom, supposedly the most important room next to HQ itself. The next day while preparing to be royally flogged by the RSM, we discovered that the keys were 'found' again in the Hall, which was highly suspect since we spent an hour searching it the night before and found nothing. I'm not pointing fingers, but hmm. Nevertheless, it was a relief to know that it wasn't our fault.

Wen is my new hero. He's this guy who's one year older than me, and consequently, been only playing drums for a year longer - but he's the second best drummer in the entire SAF corp, second only to LC. He's quite crazy; his abilities are in the same league as LC - professional class. He performs Weckl pieces for fun, and his skill is only matched by his eloquence; heck, he's even going to burkley to study music. He's really enthusiastic as well, keeps on encouraging me to go to the hall to find him to give me a masterclass on sticking patterns and strokes - and damn, his strokes are godlike. I mean, I pride myself on stable strokes and all, but I just kind of whimper in a corner when I hear his. Really reminiscent of LC. I've kinda fine-tuned my style over the past months as well, dropping jazz in favour of shuffle, together with my usual funk - apparently a stable of Wen. Inspirational. Ramu is another beotch - 'what?? I'm really a classical percussion diploma holder...' and he too, plays drums like the devil. I hate the central band percs.

Still somewhat torn on whether to get a Nintendo DS + Tama Rhythm watch - this uber complex metronome capable of stereo output; or change my phone, probably to an O2 mini. Well don't give me that look, I've been saving up for like three months - I don't think I even bought anything much of note these months. Now I'm torn between the two. Hmm.

Two months before the next CoG and we've been working like dogs to piece together a drum solo after our last abysmal showing. And we're making really, really good progress - the ones among us that care, at least. We shamelessly ripped off drumline, but come on; cut us some slack, it's not as though any section out there can just rip out a drumline solo and play it. With Arvin back, we've got some serious firepower behind us. And dammit we're going to make up for that last CoG which was so humiliating I don't even want to think about it. That's it, a quick and dirty update, I'm done here.

raffli: yeah >.<>
germ, yahui: thanks :p sorry I don't leave many notes - I do read tho - I'm just not a very opinionated person. HAHA okay sorry that was a bare-faced lie. i'm just lazy =(
n1n9: haha yeah :p I wish I was writing in hyperbole, but I don't have such a luxury...
weibin: dammit they're really serious about it too. not one of those lame-o policies no one ever enforces. beotches...

a greener shade of pale

2005-01-06T03:08:00.000-08:00

Apparently someone noticed that I haven't updated in several weeks, and has actually demanded that I do something about it - really, that's quite amazing, I didn't know people actually come here, but even more amazing that someone actually wanted to read something while actually here.

Firstly - for the second time in a row, I missed the new year countdown! While not particularly fazed by this, it's not because I'm indifferent or devoid of festivity - I'm just not keen on doing blatantly stupid things like finding my way into the heart of the most crowded place in the city and then realising that it's not actually possible to walk home from there. Also, watching it on TV would be okay, if they would actually do away with the people - I can't say Singaporeans are particularly attractive, talented or linguistically talented. To me, the people on stage a just some untalented, unsavory and particularly unattractive rabble randomly picked from the crowd, trying their hardest to piece together a coherent sentence in English while resisting the urge to break out into a meaningless flurry of singlish and mandarin. Anyway, I fell asleep - last year, I was so engrossed in fixing up my GC that I didn't realise that it had passed midnight. I wonder how many more I can unintentionally miss.

Secondly, bringing my ER-6 to camp for the first time was a humorous experience. I just used it pretty much like I used every pair of earphones I ever got, but whenever one of my batchmates looked carefully at it they'd go, 'WOAAAAH DUDE! Is that an ER-6?!' while giving some anime-lightning-bolt-in-the-background awed look. I'd be like, 'Uh... ER what?' It took me quite a while to realise what they were talking about. They found my general disinterest and 'meh (shrug)' attitude particularly annoying I think. While they were jamming like mad in the combo room, really heavy metal with the guitars and keyboards and drums, I fell asleep in a corner while listening to my music, and they were rather boggled by how I didn't seem to respond to all the noise they were playing, and instead managed to fall into peaceful slumber against the wall. I tried to explain patiently how, with my noise isolation and cancellation, to me, they just seemed like a troupe of puppets, flailing their limp limbs around wildly for no particular reason, opening their mouths, but all I could hear was my own peaceful music, and eventually, I got bored of their ridiculous antics and fell asleep. They stared at me in wordless disbelief. At least, that's what I hope it was.

Thirdly, seeing NUS high school across my house and the students flooding out of the gates does boil my blood. I cannot claim to be indifferent and unfeeling towards this - I know they've done nothing to me, but it seems as though their sheer presence instills a certain amount of animosity towards me. The simple knowledge that they are there, desecrating and defiling my most precious memories in their ignorant bliss. It angers me that I can no longer walk in like I always have, to appreciate the school like it were my own home, to walk through it as my shortcut from Ghim Moh on the way home. It is occupied by a mass of unfeeling entities, unaware of the sacred ground they are trodding on. It doesn't help that their uniform is, in all fairness, horrendously ill-matched - this horrid greenish thing, which is not any shade of green other than putrid, and the white tops - it is almost a blasphemous conversion of the uniform which was once my pride and joy.

Fourthly, and I think this is supremely hilarious - is the new SAF ruling. Now, even if you've always ignored my previous babble on the army, listen to this; it's frikkin' comedy gold. The new ruling, listen carefully: All personnel wearing number 3 uniforms (the brown one) are no longer allowed to carry bags (normal backpack types, with the two straps) with two straps slinged around their shoulders. They are only allowed to sling one side. As for the one shoulder sling bags, you're not allowed to sling them at all anymore.

I'll let that sink in first.

Got it? Good.

The moment we heard it, we just burst out laughing. Laughing for so many reasons. First, clearly the abundant humour in the situation - it's UTTERLY TOTALLY MEANINGLESS. I don't care what rationale you give - I don't give a @#$% whether one shoulder sling will allow me to defend my country better or whatever; this is bull%^&*. It's ridiculous. It doesn't do anything but reflect how bored the legislation is to come up with this sort of utterly nonsensical ruling. If this is a reflection, of any degree at all, of how this country is run, I'd say we're in for rough times ahead. I don't think any of you can possibly find any reason to disagree with me on this. Secondly, this just goes to show that we can, in fact, as just lowly army men, be conditioned to do just about anything and follow any order, no matter how illogical and pointless. Amazing, bravo, you've done yourself a favour in proving to us how motivational your leadership is. So what next, o ye omnipotent masters? 'Personnel are no longer allowed to use army resources. From now onwards, all personnel are required to bring their own supply of oxygen, and gravity'. Or 'Personnel are required to attach anti-gravity devices to their backpacks, as no physical contact is allowed with your own belongings anymore.' This is not impossible, ladies and gentlemen - it's only a matter of time.

Oh and for those who wonder what the hell I'm talking about when I say WoW, this is a succinct review from the guys over there at PA. Quite a short and sweet writeup, in typically literary-calibre writing. The relevant comic, which is strangely, well, familiar, to me, is found here. Funny, and pretty viewer friendly regardless of whether or not you're a gamer, so just pop by.

New hobby in camp: playing the piano. Yes, I haven't played in ten years - I don't want to talk about it. But at least I'll just play it again for fun. I was super impressed by Shaun - he is an amazing, startlingly talented individual. Vincent is a virtuoso; Shaun is an entertainer. His music, pop culture jam-packed with fitting flourishes and astounding ad-libbing - and he plays it blindfolded. One of his gimmicks. His perfect pitch and hearing ranks high among some of the best musicians I've ever had the privilege of working with. Inspirational. Band prac was quite fun - Arvin passed the drumset part for Jap Graf over to me, because it was my song. And I think I didn't disappoint. Playing Riverdance, Phantom and Armenian Dances once more makes me sigh with nostalgia at the days at RJ, long past, only to be relived in boundless bittersweet memories. Hearing the band here, remembering how RJ used to be like - I can't help but feel a deep-seated meloncholia within me.

Oh right, and Happy New Year to all! I resolve not to make stupid promises which will never be fulfilled anyway this year.

gab: thank you :) happy new year to you as well..
weibin: alright, you've tried it - don't say I didn't warn you, you brought it upon yourself...
germ: interesting ramblings? wut the... that seems oxymoronic. haha thanks anyway. happy belated new year :)
to the person who left me the comment: so sorry i wiped out your comment by mistake! You'll know who you are because you're the only one who's left me one, ever. Anyway, thank you - I'm flattered. I write for myself, but people like you make it all the more worthwhile. Happy new year!

Alka-Seltzer

2004-12-28T01:07:00.000-08:00

... salty.

I'm pretty ill again - no surprises there. I'm having a recurrence of my problem earlier this year: a seemingly self-willed digestive system. I'm not going to go into the rather disgusting details, but let's say that in some way, decomposition and throwing up is involved in some way. Nevermind, it's a minor problem that will go away soon I'm sure.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. My final reply has arrived - this time being University of Bristol. They've offered me a place as well. So the final tally: 66% affirmative replies. Sweet. I've got places at Nottingham, Warwick, Bristol and King's College London, and I've been rejected by LSE and Oxford. Pity. But I must say that this is of course far better than I would have expected. In fact, it's amazing, considering that I expected at least half of them to reply with blank letters, and the other half insults and obscene handstrewn pictures drawn by the disgruntled clerks working there. I really have to thank my parents for their encouragement and their supportiveness, driving me everywhere, finding out things for me and basically leaving only all the easy things for me. And of course, Mrs. Leong - I have no idea what she wrote in my testimonial, but omg it was freaking incredible. So now it's finally time for the decision - now that I'm no longer waiting for anything, I don't have any excuse to not think of which one I want to go to. It's still a decision I don't want to make - a decision I wish I could run away from or leave in limbo. But I can't. Disturbed. And of course there's still NUS. Which I'm still bitter about and mildly offended by. But that's life.

My mouse is truly an amazing piece of architecture. As I've described - it is a monumental homage to Man's creative spirit. It is built with humanity in mind, to tell us that it loves being used and doing nothing but serving it's purpose with utter pride and care - with the purpose of encouraging us all to cherish our lives, knowing that such beauty and finesse exists within our reach if we're willing to look for it. I find myself holding my mouse, staring at it blankly for several minutes even while my monitor is off. My parents think I'm insane. They're probably right. But you would do the same too, if you were using a Razer Diamondback. I normally have sweaty palms, but I seem to have stopped the moment I changed to this mouse. It's as though even my sweat glands can't bear to corrode the flawless construction of this piece of marvel. And honestly, for the budget price of a hundred bucks - there's no reason why anyone out there, gamer or not, shouldn't get this. It will enrich your soul.

I didn't want to talk about this, but when you have few other accomplishments in your life, you have to resort to such points of information. World of Warcraft grabs you by the throat and refuses to let go. It blurs the lines between your existence and the virtual one; if you've got a girlfriend, or nay, even friends, you should not be playing this. It covertly preaches with it's seductive guile that friends are secondary - what do friends have that we cannot provide? It whispers in your ears it's sweet yet perfectly tainted words, bent to reflect nothing but flawless beauty while hiding the rot underneath. It promises virtual Eden itself, promising to bless you with the universal joy that religion sometimes fail to provide. I experience this every single day now. Imagine spending an entire day tearing your way through the scarlet monastery, trashing all the guards, finally wresting your way into the last room flanked by the colossal pillars of mankind's greatest heroes, only to come face to face with the immense ancient knight who threatens to maul your entire party - then together you tear him down, together with his thirty odd acolytes, and triumphantly rip the gleaming shoulderpads off his fallen, bleeding frame, claiming it for your own, and being one of the only people in the world to have that piece of enchantment, much to the envy of the rest of the world. That was me, last week. Not the fallen dude; ah I'm sure you get what I mean.

What I'm trying to say is that where I've failed in the world, I've managed to achieve in this one - no matter how hollow it is, it is an echo of the past glories I never could have had in life. Currently I'm ranked top 25 in the server of several tens of thousands of people - can you even process that? It's like winning an Angus Ross runner-up. Or like scoring first class honours in some prestigious university. It's that sort of victory which really threatens to lock you permanently within the world, albeit under your own unwitting free will. It traps you within it's oubliette and makes you love every moment of it. It's like some drug addiction - and just as dangerous.

Change of Guard at Orchard Road this Sunday - usual marchdown Orchard Road street parade. Ordinarily I'd like some to come, but this time, I'd say just forget it; what we're doing is pretty worthless, I think. Heck I'm embarrassed to even be involved this time round. Without Arvin's leadership we're like lost sheep. Or like a chicken with it's head lopped off, running around aimlessly, just waiting for the inevitable to pass. And goodness I've really been having some very odd conversations with the 7-11 staff. I think I've met the entire staff on rotation there.

Last but not least, a nod to the tragedy that has precipitated - it's truly a terrifying display of nature's wrath. I really don't know what to make of it - a lesson, a display, or a reminder? I'm thankful that we're safe, because we are just so incredibly lucky to have avoided the catastrophe. Nay, I'd describe it as a cataclysm. A moment of silence and prayer to those lost and lost.

Raffli: Goodness truly the ALW cultist :) Belated Christmas + New year to you too man! You're never too late in my book :) I would love to watch Phantom but unfortunately I fell asleep during the musical so I'm somewhat still suspect about the whole thing...

Hoho

2004-12-24T22:06:00.000-08:00

It's funny that most of the festivities actually take place on the eve of the day rather than the day itself. Or is that just me?

The gathering yesterday was alright - lots of nice pie and just an endless stream of food which I forsee myself having to finish over the next few days. Lots of cake from secret recipe, lots of coffee, and basically, courses of food - it was a frikking banquet.

Then we have the traditional exchanging of gifts - clearly a lot of the magic of christmas, the myticism of the hour, has been lost on us. While we used to wait until the stroke of midnight, we've recently taken to opening it earlier and earlier because we want to go upstairs to do our own thing. I remember that as a kid, I would always choose one huge present, which to me, was just unfathomably unaffordable and just all too faraway to reach with my own tiny grasps - when, for the one time in the year, my wishes to obtain such a gift would unquestionably be satisfied by my parents. They would buy whatever it is - I remember wanting a K'Nex big-ball factory and a mini-air hockey table before - and wrap it in front of me a month before. And then it would be the most agonising one month wait, as I counted the weeks, the days, then the hours, to the midnight of Christmas eve - when our wordless contract of abstinance would finally dissipate and I would have full rein over my new toy with my parents' blessings. Christmas was truly a time of great great happiness and anticipation for me. But alas as we age, the reality of Christmas begins to grab hold of us; when we no longer just sit back and receive but have to fulfil our end of the 'bargain', which is to reciprocate - and that is just the most awkward time for me. I don't like choosing gifts, because I'm not good at it, and because I fear an unsatisfactory response - because I'm too good at reading emotions, because I can see past hypocrisy and false smiles put on to disguise true feelings. And so every Christmas has become an exercise in staying at home and trying not to meet people. Funny how that works, because I'm not very successful at it either.

Anyway presents! I'm not going to mention the things I bought because that would just be - werid - but I did receive some surprise gifts. I'll start from the bottoms-up, from the least-exciting-but-still-awesome-enough-to-make-this-list. A funny trend is that my family has clearly noticed what sort of gadgeteer I am and clearly gone the technology-over-paperweight route. My aunt gave me this tiny cool little clock which balances on this sphere, and has a tiny clear screen on top - and within the screen, this sort of holographic-liquid-crystal projection of the present time, the numbers rapidly winding through it's glass prison, visible from all angles. That's just too cool. Secondly is another mug from my aunt - a mug with clear walls and a sealed internal space containing this liquid coolant, trapped between layered walls. The purpose being to keep the mug in the freezer, with the coolant expanding and fully forming a wall of ice around it's contents, while you pour a drink in without needing any additional ice. That's just too funky. My parents gave me the most mind-boggling gift this time round - a pair of headphones built for use with iPods. But it's no ordinary pair of headphones - it's from etymotic research, and it's one of those uber professional sound-dampening kits which just screams out proudly of itself from it's wrapper that it's about as good as market products get. And my parents unfortunately left the price tag on. Goodness - I didn't even know that figure even existed when it came to headphones. Step aside Senneihser, and go back to your cave, Bang and Olufsen. The coolest gift, I think, for it's sheer wow factor, was my brother's. He got me a wired optical mouse - a Razer Diamondback! One of the top end, hardcore gaming 'mice' with it's second button layout and flawless sensitivity controls. It even comes with a program that fully customises each setting of the mouse, because any windows built mouse driver would just kind of stare dumbly at the mouse's potential capabilities and dribble a little. This thing is sleek, and as the name implies - the back is selectively transparent, with a salamander red glow permeating several gaps whenever the com is powered on. It's just too funky. I find myself staring at it more than actually doing anything else.

My room is kind of in a havoc having taken the role of the entertainment center again. People coming in and out, fiddling with Burnout 3, playing doom, reading my comics - it's all just very chaotic right now. Well, it's once a year so I don't mind, I guess.

I need to uh... spend some quality time with my mouse now. Christmas greetings to all!

yahui, weibin, wy, tzehui: thank you! merry christmas to you all as well. i hope you've enjoyed your christmas day! and do have a good year ahead.
mingwei: eh you camper - I didn't know you come here. wah lau it's been at least twelve years since I've heard from you or something man! haha thanks anyway, ditto to you as well - I guess just don't think about army lah haha. At least we don't have to spend this time in camp as well, which they could have easily made us do with their 'we control your entire existence' policy going on...

City of Blinding Lights

2004-12-23T20:15:00.000-08:00

the more you learn, the less you feel

I've always been a little grinch-like during this festive season; I can help but feel rather snide about the whole commercialism of the holiday. I think my brother summed it up perfectly: 'the only way you'll get me close to Orchard is to kill me and drag my naked carcass from the back of a car.' How true, that - that is exactly what a Singaporean christmas is like. But don't get me wrong, I'm not some scroogelike entity who sets out to depress everyone during this period. In all fairness my whole family celebrates Christmas a lot more comprehensively than most people - we have a huge, fully decorated Christmas trees, complete with timed flashing lights, trinkets, ornaments, the whole she-bang - I assisted in putting up the Christmas bells and tinselly things around the house. Heck, my drumset even has two christmas socks hanging off each cymbal boom. Now don't say I don't care.

Christmas in my family has always been a curiosity among my friends, not that I blame them. We are a very curious agglomeration of people. For example we take to buying presents for ourselves and then paying for each other's presents - of course that's all done before the actual festivities, which just concerns that actual presentation/exchange of gifts. The rationale is that this is in fact the most efficient allocation of time and resource - we each get what we want, we don't spend more than we have to, and we don't have to go through the whole sham of 'oh wow! this is... uh... great!' while holding on to some shoebox like contraption with a tiny lump of play-doh gelled onto one side and a piece of fried wood scotch-taped to the centre or something. Sure, it defies the whole 'thought' process - but you can't deny that it serves it's purpose extremely well.

In addition we take to camping in our house and not really moving around much - for one, I don't really like giving things to people or receiving it. The whole artifice behind it is too much for me to bear. Don't get me wrong, I love the holiday, I love the Christmas spirit, and I know the religious significance behind it - just that I'm not too keen on having to be someone else I'm not once every year. Call it - my way.

Working on Christmas eve is rather annoying, I must say - but thanks to Captain Houdini, the master escape artist, a swift gesture of his right hand (literally) secured us from the menial labour early enough. He is a man of brilliance and integrity, one of the few among them.

On a more inappropriate topic I'm not going to elaborate about, yesterday was the first army funeral I played for. You can joke about it and make insensitive jokes before the event, but when it actually goes on and you see the entourage of sobbing and mourning people, you genuinely feel something - even when you have no context or idea of the person concerned or what happened at all. It really strikes you in it's harsh reality when presented right in front of you, and even the most insensitive of the lot will definitely feel affected in some way. But this is not for discussion.

I received another letter yesterday, the fifth - this time from, you guessed it, Oxford. I won't beat around the bush, I got rejected. But I'm being perfectly honest when I say that I wasn't disappointed at all. Really. I knew the moment I picked up the envelope - it clearly only had one piece of paper within, and experience indicates that a successful application letter would usually come with brochures or pamphlets. When I opened the envelope, right to the point when I put the letter down, I didn't feel a shred of disappointment, or worry that somehow I had failed my parents or something. I was totally neutral about it. After all, how many people out there can claim that they actually got to the interview and aptitude test phase of their stringent admission criteras? When I showed my parents the letter, their reaction was even more surprising - they said they were glad I didn't make it. My father said that he never expected me to, in all fairness, and in fact, my mom had hoped that I didn't make it. Why? Because they know my limits, and they think that I wouldn't be able to handle the stress and competition of one of the top universities in the world. They seemed glad enough that I didn't make it, and my father cheerfully added that it would either be Nottingham or NUS now. And I guess if I could make it to NUS, it would be great if I could save my parents something like a hundred thousand bucks. The only thing is that I would actually have to stay in Singapore, which I've lately been very restless about as you realise. My parents don't know this. I've always complained about going overseas, but that was in the past when I didn't see the true face of our society. Now I'm more open and more informed - but I don't know whether or not to tell them. And unfortunately the time for the decision is nigh.

Just a short update - no point in talking about any of the other events going on today or tomorrow. It's just the same every year, the gatherings, the festivities, and stuff like that. I try to avoid it when I can, and just appreciate the holiday for itself.

Merry Christmas to all!

A brief respite

2004-12-20T03:42:00.000-08:00

with no subheading whatsoever this time round

I guess it's time I took a moment out of my life to jot down some recent happenings before purpose of this diary wears itself out.

Clearly the reason I've been, well, quiet lately is because of my uh... commitments. I guess I've kind of taken obsessiveness to the next level - I clocked over 200 hours of time in a period of 17 days. Do the math yourself - it's slightly over 8 days I think. The question on everyone's mind is of course, how do I do it? How do I commit myself so unfalteringly to something? And since I'm capable of it, what would I have been capable if I really liked, like say, studying or something? It's quite an interesting rhetoric I guess. My defence is that it's hard to be addicted per se; you can't be addicted to a form of living. That would just be like using a non-descriptive adjective. People don't understand one thing; that a thing such as this is not as simple as just playing it; it's a matter of living it. Every single day, the virtual world changes, and you have to keep up with times - do your housekeeping, read up on recent occurrences, communicate and keep in touch with your friends and companions. It's not a simple non-commital issue of jumping in and out. It is pure devotion to a sincere, perhaps misguided, belief. And there is no reward other than satisfaction, but some would argue that to be the greatest reward in itself.

My brain has totally malfunctioned from WoW, and so has, apparently, my brother's. I've become totally hare-brained, living on no more than 2 hours of sleep a day and 4 hours of sleep per weekend day. I forgot to bring my handphone to camp because I thought I put it in my pocket. My friends were joking about me not having 'enough inventory slots' which was actually quite funny.

Oh yes I've been down with a flu recently. I didn't like it, but I have to say that I wasn't too depressed about it - it gave me a real and valid reason to stay at home and uh... do what needed to be done. Of course I'm not advocating intentionally falling sick for that purpose or even lying; my consciousness would never let me live that down. But still, even sickness didn't feel as bad as it normally would have.

The army is really quite a funny place. We realised, in one of discussions, that everything, everything done, is pretty much for show. And it climbs up the hierachy all the way. From the senseless and meaningless regimentation (don't even give me that illogical argument of discipline and what not - it is easily debunked and totally irrelevant subversion) to the time-wasting chores, everything is down to show other people that we do it. Not just the men, but all the way up the chain, even to the highest points. Probably the only real patriot among all this is the government or what we'd call, The Man. Honestly, it is unfathomable how many millions of man-hours are wasted on sheer inefficiency, which ironically, we call pure efficiency, here, that could be spent on improving our infrastructure and economy. Just cutting down the useless fall-in parades itself would save, in an ACTUAL numerical term, a bagajitrumazillionkatrillion hours every year. I find it very amusing how they continue to push, with no backing or (good) logic whatsoever, that this is actually good for the country. It will be interesting to see how, in times of war, the commanders yelling, 'CHARGEEE' and running forwards while most of the men stand behind watching their leaders charge forwards while staying rooted on the spot, looking at each other, flinching slightly, then turning tail and running. I'm not saying that we're cowards - I'm saying that you're not giving us a good reason to do such a thing. Most importantly you don't make us believe in you.

Why am I bitter, you ask? Always so anti-institutional? I can't deny it, I do share some of that sentiment; but I have reasons that I believe are validated. I'm not anti, that would be wrong; I'm more opinionated than anything. I believe that things can be done better. Why aren't they? Simple - the best minds in the nation are not in the army, let us face that - the best minds are out there to further their bright careers and prospects. Who then, is left to fill up these important roles? The lower tiers of social strata that undeniably exists in every single country, regardless of stance of government. And hence things are typically badly managed as a whole, even if there are several truly outstanding people in those positions. Think of it in terms of the big picture, not the small one.

I remember when my father's brother-in-law was lost at sea during his service term. A pilot instructor, he was never found after one of his flights. His family never gave up the search - my father went to search for him at sea that day. What did the army do? They didn't even send out a search ship. The reason? 'Chances of survival were negligible, and so they didn't want to waste resources.' Efficiency? Utter rubbish. All that was achieved? Total dissatisfaction with the government for not providing even some form of resolution to his family. Nothing. Even sending out search ships with the knowledge of futility would have at least granted his family that peace of mind that something was done. It would have been so simple. But it was never done. They cut corners at all the wrong places, and they become the public enemy. Do they deserve anything more than disrespect? My brother went for a funeral while he was at artillery, for one of the artillery servicemen who were unfortunately lost during such an incident. He said that the family was cursing and swearing at the government, making a massive scene in public to defame the army. Can we blame them? Is losing your life in the name of something you don't believe in worth it? Something you don't believe in, because you were never offered something to truly believe in, instead of being forced to?

I have to play for a funeral this thursday. Ordinarily I'd say that fine, it's the least this person deserves. Somewhere in my heart I know that for real. What am I taught to feel instead? The only natural reaction to being given extra work - being frustrated that I have to go through this suffering for someone I don't even know, because I was never given a reason, or even a context, to believe. Just that little bit would help change our attitudes. But no, it 'wastes resources'. Fine. 'There's nothing you can do about it so just do it'. A valid reason indeed. Utterly senseless.

Heck, just listening to our local national day 'songs' (in the loose sense of the word) is enough to disgust me. It's one of those things that we'd do better without. Just listening to the crappy synthesizers done by the local slightly affeminate male (I think) singers makes us cringe. And don't even get me started on that blasphemous rap version of Munneru Thambi. It what comes directly from Satan's bottom after a particularly rough burrito meal. It was so utterly vulgar that we actually use 'Munneru Thambi' to curse at each other now (I'm not kidding). That song was like an insult to human senses, like the private organ of the world decided to excrete infectious waste over all of civilisation. That song is a frikking plague without the joys of it. The person who even conceptualised it is undoubtedly vile enough to disgust and repel the daemon princes and spawns of Chaos into lives of shame and redemption. Please don't ever produce such crap again, we'll all do better without it. Remember, sometimes less is more. In that case why I am still so afraid that there's more to come?

Playing pingpong is a highly entertaining event when you play the game with six players. It was a truly hilarious bout back and forth between us, when things started going awry, and we started getting stupid ideas. We started adopting diablo-esque stances, with most of us choosing 'barbarian' and dual-wielding pingpong bats. Then we threw in four pingpong balls and played four games concurrently. The madness was further intensified when the football and the rattan ball came onto the playing field. Don't even ask what that looked like. We spent the rest of the time jamming in the band studio with the solid drumset and the bass guitar, amps and latin percussion - it was a truly enjoyable jamming experience. Especially when you're playing with really qualified musicians who know exactly what they're doing. I should be thankful at least, I guess, that the army has given me a chance to do such things in my serviceterm. I'm definitely one of the lucky few, and I guess I have the least to complain about; to put it in perspective, I'm only complaining about the big picture - not my life per se.

I get jumpy whenever the mail comes in. Especially those anonymous envelopes that say 'Par Avion' on them with no other stamp on it whatsoever. I'm always anxious to bits. I don't know why, since I fully expect the rejection letter to come - some of my friends have already been rejected, friends who are undoubtedly far more capable than me. I guess the experience of getting something other than expected would be like buying one booster pack and getting the 1 in 6000 crates holofoil - in fact, the odds are probably similar, if not even worse.

Oh yes I've been 'appointed' within the bands. That's terrible news. It means more work with no reward. That's how things work, and I'm not even kidding - ask anyone. The best thing is if you're totally untraceable and totally invisible to the all-seeing eyes. But I hate it - I hate that I'm regarded as 'one of the more capable' and because of that I'm punished with extra work. It doesn't make sense at all. Not even one fraction of it. Imagine this: the more you study, the larger the increase of the rate of the worsening of your results. That is exactly how it works. The most incapable people get nothing to do, because no one trusts them with responsibility. And people like us? We pay for it.

Alas, that's how things work. And as they love to respond 'cleverly' to your queries as to why exactly - 'well what can you do about it?'

Bravo. That was very witty and satisfactory.

germ, ssato, raffli, weibin - thank you! haha. sorry i really shouldn't talk about this so much - it reflects quite badly on me. But i always live with the principle that i write for no one but myself... anyway, i'm so glad to know that there are people vaguely affirmative on my behalf! it means a lot to me.

Where the streets have no name

2004-12-14T02:58:00.000-08:00

and where I don't have any other title ideas

Well it's been some time hasn't it? It's not difficult to guess where I've been lately if you've been a regular patron here, but in either case, my brother often curses whenever he has to leave the house and often asks in dismay, 'when since has having a life been a form of punishment?!' Yes, having no life pays off, clearly, and I'm stuck at home 24 hours a day on weekends with nothing on my mind but 4 hours of sleep and a really grimy mouse.

And so my fourth reply arrived in the mail today, this time from the University of Nottingham - and I've been offered a place there as well! Amazing. Truly amazing. When I first filled up the UCAS form, I didn't even realistically expect a single positive response - but now, I've already been granted places in half the places I've applied to, and I'm still waiting for two more replies: Bristol and Oxford. I'm guessing Bristol's will come sooner, because Oxford recently had another series of gruelling aptitude tests. They have the most rigorous entry requirements ever, I think. Nevertheless I'm already quite ecstatic over what has come to my doorstep. However I still don't know where I want to be - it's nice to know I have all the choices laid down in front of me, but when the time really comes, I'll be in a world of pain. I guess somewhere in my mind, a glint of optimism still remains, bundled tightly together with an equal countenance of fear - because somewhere in the recesses of my thoughts, I'm realising that as long as Oxford's reply doesn't come, there's still a sliver, albeit a tiny one, of hope. It's not a fear of being not being accepted, because I fully expect that - it's a fear that I actually might. It's unlikely beyond numerical probability, but the chance is existent to some infinitismally tiny degree. And that scares me. Why? Because I know that if I have a chance to go there, one of the lucky what, 60 people in the world, my mind is already made up. Some part of me wishes that I will never get that reply, just so that I can live in this moment I may never be able to live again; the mere illusion that I might just be among those few people, an illusion which has never once taken form, in any incarnation, in my life.

Anyway why is Nottigham special, you ask (enough with the sheriff jokes already!)? The reason is because it's one of the top ten law universities in UK, and also, one of the eight universities to base a portion of their judgment upon the earlier LNAT law admissions exam I took this year, the first of it's kind. So I'm pretty much unsure of how well I did. I guess some part of me is deluding myself into thinking that, having been accepted by one of those LNAT-criterion unis, I didn't do badly enough to make the markers curse my ancestry and gouge themselves in the eyes with flaming hot pokers. That's just being optimistic, of course - it might be some sympathy offer or something designed to make me less depressed about my inadequacies which I've been forced to swallow my whole life.

The package from Play-Asia arrived! My mario stage figures! And my Zelda collectibles! It arrived in slightly over a week, after my eager four-week long battle to secure the damn things which were so popular they sold out within hours of repeated restocks which I regularly missed. But having seen them now, I don't think my effort was in vain - aside from being smaller than I expected, these 3-dimensional classic Mario dioramas of 'screenshots', together with the pixellated edges, are gorgeous. They instill so much nostalgia and joy that whenever I look at the one I opened and placed upon my table, I am transported to a land of huge-headed green dinosaurs and piranha plants. The professional (and free) packaging itself was a joy to unwrap. I still have seven boxes I haven't opened, simply because I'm unwilling to pry open those seals which hold so much magic within them; I'm afraid that by disenchanting the mysticism of the whole package, I'm losing one of the few things in my life which I can actually hold on to.

Kenneth was quite funny despite his attempts to crush me like an ant. Yes, he piled himself onto me twice for around half a minute each time - all, what, 130? 140 kilos of him? I was wheezing and sputtering. Hey, you try having over three times your weight piled onto you repeatedly. Not fun. He gave me a supplex as well, before promptly squishing me into pulp again. That was before he asked me to come for the Phil Winds concert next week. Somehow the topic of me joining phil winds came up again; and I think it would be so cool to have a chance to play besides Dennis, my mentor, who still plays for them. I don't know how ready I am, but I am feeling more confident of myself than I've ever been. I think I'm more of a gig person rather than a percussionist, but I haven't quite decided. To play besides Shaun would be great as well, one of the people with the most masterful hearing and tonal awareness I've known. He can write out songs purely from hearing, and I'll never forget the time we played the bomberman opening to him once and he composed the entire melody line (with all the running notes and timing) flawlessly. Most astoundingly, without an instrument or a single playback on any format - he just wrote it down, once, and when we tried it, it was flawless, in perfect rhythm and key. He's truly a class of his own. And it's interesting, despite the environment, that I get to meet these sort of people and befriend them to a level more personal than the AC-hi-bye sort of relationship (no offence, but it's true, dammit).

Most frightening is that I'm doing the Orchard Road Change of Guard next month; 2nd January. Yep, the one where we parade down Orchard Road with all our drum solos and crap. The trick is, this time, our main player and choreographer, Arvin, is actually on overseas leave at the time, which means both those roles fall squarely on my shoulders. And let me just say that it is simply impossible to come up with something like that on my own. I just do not have that ability to write a section level themed, choreographed, syncopated drum solo. My ideas just aren't that developed yet. I don't know what we're going to do. Probably play drum solo number 1 all the way or something. That, by the way, is something I could play when I was sec 2. Not very cool, to say the least.

Meiling: thanks! but I don't know, London is just so expensive... Ulu might really be a good thing. And man, what are you waiting for? Go out and spend more time studying U2; your standards of living will positively skyrocket into the stratosphere. Okay maybe not. But it's fun.
Weibin: pity, I'm still applying to NUS; can't jump on their table and give them the... uh... salute, as yet. It's not wise to burn all your bridges, I think...
Ssato: thank you, dear :)
Raffli: dude, it's good to know you're still as insane as ever. haha no offence but I literally fell asleep when I watched the PotO musical here several years back. either i couldn't appreciate it as a kid, or I'm just a first class plebeian - but I know that it's not the kid one.
Germ: haha thank you! but you deserve more of the congratulations - because you've managed to make a firm decision and stick it out. Me? I'm just lost and wandering aimlessly all the time...

I'm still quite alive, actually

2004-12-07T06:50:00.000-08:00

... contrary to popular belief

Yes, I am, in fact, actually still on this plane of existence, in theory. However, that is debatable - World of Warcraft has totally taken over my life. It is the one game to rule them all. It is what gamers have been seeking all these years - the promised land of gaming, of eternal sunshine and bliss. It is impossible to answer the question, 'Are you playing WoW?' as my friends have asked me umpteenth times. The answer to this question is simply, 'I believe that to some extent, all of us have been playing WoW. In our daily lives, the ways we choose to lead our lives and conduct our behaviour, is all in some way coexistent with the phil0sophical ideals that WoW delivers and inculcates. It is a instruction on life, a reflection on how we should be able to exist in harmony with our surroundings and nature. Having played this game, my existence is currently in limbo - it's really hard to define which my life really exists in. This is undoubtedly the herald of the next coming of gaming.

I played it for 42 hours straight in 2 and a half days - my eyes are shot, caffeine is surging through my veins, I'm exhausted, and my thumb is bruised (I'm not even kidding) from hitting the spacebar. But I don't feel like stopping. I'm totally captivated, submerged in this brave new world, where I am free from impossibility and I can be who I want to be. The last game to ever have such a profound effect on me was Unreal Tournament, which I still maintain obstinately is the benchmark for any FPS to beat. Even it's own sequels failed to rival it. And I believe that it will hold on to that bar for a long time to come, as games become less and less focused on gameplay on more and more on visual candy. WoW is a breath of cool, clean fresh air. I would describe the moments of discovery in between as sheer, brutal marvel, while being a slap in your face when you realise that you have a life to live and can't live in this one forever.

And we just got another new com for my dad, 'purely for office purposes', but for all purposes and intents, a reasonable computer in itself - AMD Athlon 2800, Ati Radeon 9600, 160gb harddrive. Not too shabby for 'office work'. I'm convinced we should try to LAN some games soon, with my LAN network being rather underused. It's also almost time to retire my Mouseman+. It has been a great, great mouse which has served me faithfully for 6 whole years, and I've never asked for anything more than what it has given me - sheer gaming control and confidence. But it's losing it's sensitivity. Probably picking up a Razer Diamonback gaming mouse, with it's seven buttons and FR of 6400 and 1600 DPI rating - that's insane control for FPS games. And it looks hot. Most importantly, it's cheaper than most 'mice' out there. It's optical, but corded - I still believe in corded mice. Wireless mice fail to deliver the same pinpoint accuracy and lagless precision. Even that tiny fraction of a second can mean a difference between victory and defeat, even though it might seem inconsequential. With my current Barracuda precision gaming surface (or what you normal people would call, a mousepad – ick, how tasteless), I am officially an unstoppable gaming force.

Spent time in camp just analysing U2 lyrics. Bono is a genius of a songwriter. There's just so much content that it boggles my mind, whether or not he intented it. Quite funny jamming with the guys, be it U2 songs, rock or whatever – especially with our award-winning renditions of Jingle Bell Rock or what we’ve come to call Jungle Bells, as well as Jingle Bell Swing, Ska, Latin, Punk, Agogo and Jazz. Don’t even get me started on ‘Chestnuts Roasting Over an Open Fire’ or our iteration of ‘Silent Night, Holy Night’. We're thinking of holding the SAF Bands Christmas 'Concert'.

Oh and I've just been accepted into University of Warwick! My third reply! That's one of top ten unis according to the Straits Times - wooo! I'm pretty damn excited about it; no more than 70 places were given out for law. I don't know what Mrs. Leong wrote in my reference, but I so have to thank her for it, because whatever it is, it was freaking powerful to have granted me this many auditions and responses. Okay I apologise I'm such a shameless braggart. But really, it's so cool - give me a moment to shine alright? I've never been anything my whole life; always last in everything, always the weakest link, always the most unlucky, always the condemned. At this point of time I'll probably pick Warwick over King's, because it's supposedly fractionally better in some aspects, and it's also more countryside; hence lower cost of living compared to London. I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going overseas though. But not as though I will surely get a choice; clearly NUS doesn't think of me as a person with that sort of latent potential. Sigh. They might be right, who knows?

The past 15 minutes away from WoW have been excrutiating. So I'll take my leave for now; see you guys around. Sometime. Maybe even soon.

JM: haha I'm sure he has his reasons... he's Bono, after all. He can do anything he wants...

Weibin: Don't play WoW lah - you'll hate me even more that you can't play it all the time, really... I stay out also feel that I don't get to play it enough... I'm not being guai lan... for your own good, haha... Oh and by the way, wisdom tooth extraction sucks. My bro is in immense pain and suffering; just bleeding everywhere, and can't eat anything... But of course, that might be better than army.

Raffli: Haha you ALW freak. I'm culturally barren compared to you lah, I've never even heard of that thing... but I'm sure my parents will make sure I do sometime soon :) How's your army life like? Never here from you leh, do you have some blog or something...

Yahui: sure dear I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier.

I'm at a place called Vertigo

2004-12-02T07:54:00.000-08:00

Reductio ad absurdum

Clearly you can tell I've gone nuts with U2's 'How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb'. Spent several minutes racking my brain as to how I could pick up the cd with minimal waiting involved because I wanted it that bad. Then it occurred to me that Memphis had, in fact, taken up root near my place, and I had never visited the place. So I did on the way home, and I've never looked back since. I've got U2s new album! WOOHOO! I'm having difficulty understanding the lyrics but it's a little hard to tell whether or not I like this album more than All That You Can't Leave Behind, or dare I say it, Rattle and Hum. I will have to listen to it several dozen times over and over again until I make up my mind. Eventually.

Christmas did come early this year. Today was like Christmas. My brother smsed me while I was in Tekong to inform me that my World of Warcraft cd-key just arrived. I was so excited that I couldn't wait to get off the bloody island and rush home. In fact, I almost tripped several times during the parade and forgot some of my stick cues. But it was all worth it. So if anybody asks, I live in Canberra, alright? Don't ask why.

Ah yes the parade. What can I say? Six people fainted. I remember no one fainted during my POP. Anyway, that wasn't the interesting part - most interesting of all was the audience reaction. They were positively gleeful with excitement. They were clapping and laughing, almost as though they invited more collapses and eagerly awaited, like vultures, the impending comedy that each new recruit who passed out (quite literally, I'm afraid) would soon provide them. I mean - what the hell is wrong with Singaporeans? Is this the cross-section, a representation of our society? Who indulge in this sort of sadistic pleasure, as though a parade is some form of glatiatorial sport? I mean dammit a person just fainted, fallen flat on his back, and on his face (I'm not kidding), and there you are laughing and cheering, taking pictures (goodness, you at some show?). Heck, just seeing these things make my blood boil. It serves to remind me that these accusations I make to my own nation are fully justified - we are undignified, uncivilised and we don't deserve any form of development recognition. We're just this base, primal society living in some age long gone, unwilling to let go of our barbaric heritage. Seeing this sort of behaviour genuinely makes me disgusted and ashamed of who I am.

The only one thing I really found funny? Was that 4 of the collapses occurred during the VIPs ultra long speech. Even funnier? His speech was on the 'safety measures taken by the army to take care of the welfare of the men'. It was only fitting that parents can witness all this before them. The faintings, I mean. This is exactly the sort of retribution I hope for - that these bare-face lies are debunked right before an audience who can see the truth for what it is, in it's rawest, most undistilled form. Not the things that people want them to see. There is some form of poetic justice here, and while I'm not saying that I'm happy about the people fainting, they can at least be glad that they have done some form of good - like matyrs, they help to prove a point with a strength unprecedented by hollow words and empty promises. It's a small step, but a step nonetheless.

Anyway the only reason I'm here is because the WoW servers are down for maintanence. It's fair to say that every waking moment that I have free will be spent on it for at least some amount of time to come. So urh... this is just a brief update while I still can do it. Well, see you guys in January then, I'm off to play WoW.

January 2009, I mean.

Wake Up and Smell the Ashes

2004-12-01T04:57:00.000-08:00

... Time, Mr. Freeman?

Haha I know something you don't.

On an unrelated note, it really warms the heart to know that there are people out there who are in more pain than you. I refer to, of course, the recruits at Tekong who are now doing their 24km route march as I type this. It's something about the shared experience and having been there, done that, that you empathise with them on one hand; on the other, you want to laugh out loud in their faces because while YOU were out hurting as hell, they were probably doing fun things all the while. I remember that route march. It was one of those times when I was on the edge of consciousness, from a combination of exhaustion and rather dull, pain - the dullness from an overabundance of hurt. My feet were blistering so bad that I didn't really care about stepping in a way to avoid those sensitive areas anymore. And more importantly - to those who laughed at me for wearing tights - HAHA!!! Groin abrasion for you all, fools! That was one of the most satisfying taunts I've ever given in my life. Really, it sounds lame, but when you see them hurting where no man should ever have to hurt when they laughed at you before, you'll feel a sense of overwhelming worth.

Been visiting Tekong these days. And will be until the end of the week. Quite a tiring parade, but of course nothing compared to OCS commissioning of SAF Day. I've been doing all the march-off snare beats and the downing of instrument cues, as the duty snare drummer, which is quite overwhelming for me. But at least I'm getting used to it. Something funny that happened today was that during a part of the parade when the entire pitch was silent, my snare drum just tipped over on the floor. It just bowled over and kind of rolled sideways a little for good measure. This was funny simply because, well - snare drums are completely flat against the ground. It's like a trying to get a bed frame to tip over on it's side by prodding it a little. The people in the first two rows started chuckling, and my section was giving me the 'what the heck? how'd you do that?' sort of expression. I just shrugged back at them. I had a vague idea, but it's too funny and perhaps obscene to post here. The post-parade, 'eh your snare drum fainted during parade ah?' jokes were quite amusing, I must say.

I'm quite pleased since I managed to secure 8 boxes of Mario Stage figures from Hong Kong. I've been trying for ages to get my order in - but the whole lot sells out in hours. Geeks around the world unite! Let us salute the modern mascot and iconic herald of gaming as we see it. I already missed three shipments over a course of like three weeks, and it's not from the lack of trying. Heck, I actually subscribe to a by-the-minute notification system to update me the moment stocks are available. Those things are just extremely difficult to get hold of. But having made my payment I'm just waiting gleefully. And U2's new album is out! AHH! I've been a cult-U2 fan since Gary Lim introduced them to me, telling me that 'Bono is in fact one of the deepest and most intelligent song writers alive'. And after all this time, I'm inclined to believe him. U2 has produced many songs worthy of being analysed from a literary point of view. A very exciting time for me indeed. Also, I was fedup with the whole US-Singapore denial of World of Warcraft stock, so I secured a copy direct from US. A collectors' edition copy. Jumping up and down in jubilation and squealing euphorically ensues.

Something I noticed about chinese radio stations - and don't get me wrong, I don't listen to it voluntarily - is that it has an insane amount of hilariously useless societal discussion. It's very, very funny how bad it is. Listening to the people who call, the stupid things they say that kind of make your jaw drop in amazement and a lack of words - it's so distinctly Singaporean. Sometimes I just want to laugh out loud in the cab at the sort of fallacious arguments and generalisations they make all the time; they don't have any idea how stupid they sound. Totally, totally lacking in self-awareness or shame. I sometimes feel sorry for the DJs who have to listen to their crap without yelling at them, and instead have to give pleasant, encouraging reponses to these adults with their adolescent minds, while very clearly hinting at their own disgust at what they have to say. All I can do is sigh and thank our citizens for being so deliriously, unintentionally comical. But then again, they actively speak chinese all the time. That's unforgivable.

I'm a little mixed about the whole Singapore Idol issue. Let me say firstly that I never really followed the series. Reason because, don't hate me because I tell the truth, I don't think the level of talent here is very high. I mean, yes - there is talent, they're good singers - but I hesitate to dub them an idol. Somehow the series, despite it's success around the globe, has always bugged me in some way - how is an idol really born, and to what extent would you define an idol? But I digress. The point is that, being typically apprehensive about local programmes, I don't follow it with such tight anxiety. But, not to brag, I already had a feeling that Taufik would win straight from the episode after the qualifiers. My brother said that too. We both decided that he had the most actual ability, behind all the flash and style. I guess you'd think that I'm saying this having known the results. That's fine, I don't really care. All I'm trying to say is - damn I'm good, and I don't care whether or not you agree. One thing is that while both of them can sing, I always preferred Taufik. Why? He looks natural. And more importantly, he didn't go the route of singing any chinese songs. That destroyed my impression of Sylvester. I totally lost all respect for him back then, which I know is quite unfair. The other thing is, well, superficial as I will seem saying this - I never wanted 'Sly' to win, because he looked so, well... affeminate. Like every other Singaporean ah beng. I'm very sorry but straight from the outset, I already decided that I didn't like him, because of his hair, because of his face. He has talent, but I don't want our idol to be some dude who represents the common local gangster kiddies who just want to look cool. I respect him for having improved dramatically and cleaning up his image though. I felt that there was evolution on these aspects over time, and he definitely put work into trying to erase that impression. However, Taufik just has that look, whereas Sylvester has that (ick) look. Well good luck to both anyway. It'll be quite a blow for the locals here should anyone from the art or music scene take off, because those aspects have always been the mortal nemesis of our growth. Not for the lack of trying, either - I can't say we have any really outstanding talents here.

And remember, the things I say are here for you to hate - because I'm always the bad guy. But at least I don't try to be someone I'm not.

Travelling Without Moving

2004-11-29T04:26:00.000-08:00

... just drifting along

Well well - it's back to Tekong again! The next few days will be 5am-ish to 7pm-ish working days. Really demoralising. And it's back at Tekong - the little island of horrors. Of course the difference is that I'm no longer going back as a puny recruit! Yes! I remember my passing out parade - Max was there playing the snare. Funny to think that a month later, I would be playing by his side as well, having been attached temporarily to his band. And now, playing for POP somehow makes me feel odd - things have come full cycle. Maybe I'll even get to see my old specs and commander there. Anyway, the point is that it sucks that the corp of drums has to work an additional full day with those abysmally long hours. I hope we get a day off at least, though they'll probably only give us half. The price of being a percussionist.

Caught the Incredibles with Vincent and the gang last week - and wow, it's pretty much one of the best movies I've caught all year. Not only was it a long animation, it was two hours of sheer bliss. The eye candy has reached an astounding point - it's really hard to imagine how much further they can possibly advance visual effects. The water looks amazing, the explosions were nosebleedingly realistic, and the leaves flying about obeyed physics and stuff. It was just amazing. I'm so going to watch it again. Sorry Dreamworks, but Pixar has really trounced you guys this time round. I mean, what the heck was Shark's Tale about? Where was the soul?

Argh my eyebrow has been twitching all day. Stop talking bad about me dammit! At least do it in front of me.

My brother spent dinner regaling us with his interesting tales of how they extracted his wisdom tooth, much to my wincing, amidst his, you know, bleeding everywhere, through blood-stained teeth. Gruesome. His gum was just bleeding and bleeding and bleeding and he was going a little nauseous with the taste of blood. Dentists have the best jobs around - being able to make people suffer at their will, and to get paid for it. Man. Me? I shriek like a little girl at the sight of blood. I don't know why, but anyway I'm very motivated to keep my teeth in proper condition.

Been wondering whether or not I should get a PDA or a smartphone - at first I was thinking of maybe a HP Ipaq or Tungsten. But now, the smartphones look somewhat attractive; from the O2 to the P910, to the Treo. It's all so tempting. I think I'm a tech addict. Exactly like my father - after one major purchase I find myself compelled to jump to the next in order to stay ahead of the curve. When he got his remote of the gods, I got my first mp3 player in response; then he picked up the first camera phone, and I responded in kind with my Nokia. He got his pocket PC which I responded with my pentium 4; then when he picked up his touchscreen master systems remote I replied with an iPod. I had no reply to his Stowaway portable keyboard which folds into a size of a tiny tiny tiny brick though. Now with his Ericsson P910, I feel compelled to pick up an O2 just to show that I'm still the king. The king of bankruptcy. But at least I'll have enough technology to launch a satellite from camp, take over several major security facilities around the world, chat on MSN, and warm up a baguette, all while I'm outside the house. And there is no better feeling than that.

And I see that Penny Arcade tried to overwhelm me with a unstoppable surge of irony - As Tycho mentioned, 'On a lark I walked into the Best Buy across the street, and saw that stock of the game was so high that bored employees had made a kind of fort out of the boxes and seemed prepared to live out their days within them.' That is SO not funny. Singapore is not only understocked beyond comprehension, there isn't even enough stock of World of Warcraft for us to FIGHT over it even if we wanted to. It's ridiculous. Blast you!

On a sidenote, thank you, Xinyi, for making me realise that I am in fact a failure in literature, as well as all things argumentative. It's rare that someone actually chips in when I'm belittling myself, and helps me make me sound worse than I ever could have done myself. It was very funny and refreshing though. Haha, thanks. I wouldn't expect less of one of SAJC's top literature students.

12 hours of parade tomorrow! Waking up at 4+ am! YES! This is the life.

Falling

2004-11-27T17:08:00.000-08:00

...and the charming Black Capricorn Day

Just came back home from my Saturday night stayover in camp - and this is probably the only time you'll catch me awake before noon on a Sunday morning. What a dull 24 hours in camp. The place was totally quiet and for most of the day I was the only person in the entire building. That's hardly a good thing especially when your mind starts to wander at night (wait - I think I hear something!). It's a good thing Clive was there yesterday - apparently he likes staying over 'for fun' - I really don't want to know. Sat by the phone the entire day, waiting to intercept the guard call, which is actually quite funny, since I actually missed the call while I went to the bathroom momentarily and Clive picked it up instead. So for a brief five seconds there, we were third sergeants over the phone, and yes, we would make sure the phone was manned for the night.

The audition was incredibly dull, and I actually had to man the white house for the 100 odd auditionees, something like three or four times my audition's batch size. Insane. Most of them literally had zero idea about what instrument they were supposed to be playing, and were there just sort of staring blankly at the score. Amazing. It's quite ironic to think that I wasn't even called up for my audition. This one dude was holding his sticks in a dual traditional grip and I asked him quizzically what he was doing only to be asked in return, 'is this the right way to hold it?' Right, of course.

Oh yes thanks for keeping me company over the phone for those minutes, that was very, very nice of you. :hmmm

Oh why do I even bother, huh?

Spent a better part of the night staring at the ceiling while doing strokes (yes, I do fall asleep with my drumsticks next to me on occasion; anything wrong with that?) and just listening to music. Thinking about so many things, picking out my pda to stab at it once in awhile to keep some of my thoughts organised, and captured within it's ram chip lest I never have a chance to explore it again.

Weckl's Mesmer-Eyes is quite amazing you know? I spent a good deal of time listening to the hi-hat phrase over and over again, and it's deliriously exciting. It's exhilarating, daring, and inventive - it brutally punches you in the gut, threatens to toss you off the building, tipping you backwards and pulling you back at the last possible moment, and it feels like a breath of fresh air after a lifetime of drowning. I could just listen to those ten seconds again and again for an age.

Spent time thinking about what Lin Chow taught me earlier yesterday, grilling me in my stroke foundation. Now I'm actually quite proud of myself; I like to think that I'm actually a lot better than most average percussionists of my age and background, and much better than them at the drums specifically - but Lin Chow makes me ashamed of myself. Showing me his strokes, and asking me to follow him, I was actually unwilling to even raise my own stick. I was that demoralised. He actually had to persuade me that it was alright and natural to feel that way before I would even begin to show him what I could do, mediocre in it's earnesty and pathetic in comparison to his flawless, confident, and brutally coordinated ones. His skills are unrivalled at best, perfect in syncronisation, speed and independance. Whenever he teaches me I often feel that I should quit while I still can, but he often tells me not to be disheartened; especially since he's been doing this for almost three times the time I've been doing it. And I've been doing it for seven years, so you can sort of imagine his experience. The fact that he practises for several hours everyday helps him, of course. I make excuses all the time - how I'm not used to my change of sticks, how I'm not used to this drumset - but he says these are all excuses for the weak, and implores me never to say such things. True talent disregards all of this, he claims, and proceeds to prove it to me. I think I've truly learnt a lot from him.

Anyway, spent the rest of the day reading magazines, which I brought half a dozen of, doing modelling craft, which I brought the tools for, and oddly enough, more writing. A lot of writing, in fact. I spent at least an hour typing typing typing yesterday, even in sheer darkness at some points. I'm glad to have my portable keyboard. I finished a poem (which I shall elaborate on) and my short story, which I'm not going to post... yet... because it's still rather unrefined, and rather niche in nature and content. I'm still wondering whether or not I should even share it.

Jamiroquai is cool. He uses a lot of jazz and funk chords, and most of them have a retro spin to them - very charming. I find his style of music rather soothing, and all the same, enough to keep you on your feet and moving in perfect rhythm. In fact, sometimes my walking speed is totally dependant on the music I'm listening to, so don't be surprised if you see my walking fluctuate very oddly and very precisely.

My poem, as I was saying. It was written with nothing but annoyance in my mind, given that Boonhua and I were on BO duty the whole weekend while Chris was at home all this time. So I concocted a poem of sheer nonsense. I mean, really, it's quite nonsensical - critics have described it in many ways: 'brilliant in it's ruthlessness, malice, and yet, truth', 'uh is this even an ode', 'wah lau what cock are you talking', 'why all big words but mean nothing one'. Yeah well genius is never appreciated in it's own time. But it's true that it's not even an ode - it's not even very free verse. It's just a mishmash of nonsense, misused words and jumbled up syntax which I wrote purely because I was bored, and needed to insult Chris in a classy manner. So whether or not you hate it or only dislike it, here it is:

Ode to a Chris, and Truly Meaningless Literature for other Meaningless Lifeforms

O' odious sloth
Twas' betwixt with the blessings
Of uncommon sense
O' wretched slouch
Overpopulating the copious doldrums
Of that miscreant trance
Of undercutting tributaries
Of the insiduous tides of memory

Thou art the spawn of insanity
The offspring of the hideous unity of souless clairvoyance
And fruitless empery
The acolyte of binary fission,
And waste of single-celled matter.
Thou art the foul mutagen
Of the crude unmentionable one
That is created by nature and turbulent digestion

Thou art the product of debauchery
The factor of the warp; and
Primordial instinct, cataclysmic;
Wrought together by disjointed alchemy
Catalysts of the idle and devoid mind
Malice; depravity
And surgical destitution

Like the diametrics of our planar Earth
Thou art the contrast of the philosophers' stone,
and the blessid reward;
Thou art the waste of wastes,
Of physical unwants; Life
And figurative striae
Emblazoned upon the sentience
Like the marks of the unnatural Ones

Thou dost defie use
And instead consume the precious sustanence
Of which we are grown and nurtured
Thou dost produce decacubes of putrid none sense
And similarly immeasurable uncommon sense

Like so many other things in short Life and sweet banal death;
our release from the sublunar
Thou has wasted precious time
And deprived me of the breath which I do subsist
For the affirmation of your inconsequence
How many more
Will thou continue to curse; with your base nasal grunts
And obstinate will
To be?

Perish, inconsequence!
Conflagorate thyself, and purge
The high heavens and consecrated Earth!
Be gone with the sin of indifference and thy sloth!
Seek redemption in the solstice of nothingness
And in the solace
Of self-inducing worthlessness.
That thou may be worthy
Of at least a nothingness,
And none less,
A product of your prime,
And more than thou have ever been worth.

- A. Ng

Yeah that's it basically. I don't care whether my diction is screwed up or whether my time period is mixed, ranging from 16th century to 18th century language or whatever, so don't bother telling me anything unless you've got something funny to say, like:

'Ending of Half-Life 2, like, WTF?'

Alright, time to go out before Lionel beats the Stupid out of me.

Notes

JM: haha I'm okay, I just complain a lot - I don't actually think much of it, really. Thanks anyway!

Weibin: dude I don't control the tagboard... I don't really think much of the censoring either... hmm maybe I can turn it off...

Meiling: haha easy for you to say lah - you don't have disparities between your writing and your speech - I can't speak anything that I write... quite odd, actually...

Raffli: yes NDP ROCKS. One day you should join us in our, ahem, *salute* to the nation.

Soul Education

2004-11-26T03:50:00.000-08:00

... and a pocketful of subversion

'This is interesting'. It's actually the first entry I'm writing out in camp - or more precisely, typing out, just for testing purposes. I am quite limited in terms of available tools compared to built in html of sites - pocket word doesn't really have an extensive list of processing options. And I can't really tell how the paragraphs have been paragraphed. I must say that being able to write in camp is a huge relief for me though. I'm considering upgrading my processor for that purpose.

It's some amount of time past midnight, and we - central band and the fatigue party - just came back from the SCH youth concert. It was okay; mostly rather boring, despite the intention of making the concert appreciable to younger people. I think they lacked focus in what they really wanted to do, and at the same time, wanted to do all too much when they couldn't. The script was rather lame, even though Ian wrote the whole thing; but I don't blame him in the least. In fact, I think that what he managed to do with what he had was quite amazing - I suppose writing a skit after some tragically unfunny song is quite difficult. What really annoyed the fatigue party was that they just threw whatever they wanted to see at us, and made it our immediate responsibilities at a whim. Only a few members actually bothered thanking us for our efforts, or even helping us with the work - but what more could we expect from them?

We moved things for who knows how long today - probably like 4 or 5 hours worth of moving a massive amount of instruments, including some pretty damn useless looking things which didn't actually produce any sound. Yes I'm talking about the bloody huge bass which came in this coffin big enough to keep two of the biggest people in our band in, while actually producing a sound like a piano with the mute pedal fully depressed. Imagine 15 people shifting all the instruments of one of the most well equipped bands around - with all their double bass, full percussion sets, refractive windows, and an insane, insane amount of props, that were used for the (damn) musical story, a full length half an hour skit. 15 people to do the job of at least twice that much. It annoys us that they spent $800 on renting costumes whereas they can't even bother to get us our T-shirts, despite us doing almost all their menial labour. In all fairness, a few of them actually bothered to help us at any time, but they were a rare few, and far too insignificant in the face of the loads we had to move. If anything, they have to be commended on how they can honestly live up to the fact that they make other people do their work for them without a shred of guilty conscious whatsoever - it's exactly that sort of unflinching dedication, and more precisely, dedicating of work without any clear instruction, that we require of course.

Of course when you think about how Weibin spent four hours cleaning up sh$% (literally) in camp, all this doesn't seem quite that bad anymore.

One thing is that I don't ever recall seeing an audience this full of kids - like over half of them were children. And I must say that they have very low expectations - and were very easily entertained despite how out of point the whole event was. I don't think I've ever seen such a noisy or participative audience, so that's probably a first. The balloon showers and confetti showers were quite amazingly in sync; well, of course, the fatigue party did it. The enormous confetti launchers which were the size of LAWs were impressive - they could propel huge amounts of confetti across the whole hall, like a mega form of those tiny party pops. It even comes complete with recoil and a colossal bang - but of course, I was hiding behind a row of seats when it went off. However, the precision was jaw-dropping; they went off so precisely that even the people in the control room stood up to applaud. No doubt a job well done by the fatigues. And in recognition of our fine efforts they rewarded us once more by giving us the privilege of moving all their things again, which took a hefty two hours, while they stood there congratulating themselves on a job well done. Someone told me something very funny when I complained to him/her about this - 'relax, they've already got their just desserts; they've signed on. That should be enough of a punishment. Give them a break.'

The saxophones were SO amazing. Their slinky, distinctive sound was really marvellous. A lot of audience woke up at that point, I think - the bands' saxophones are frankly quite, quite incredible. And Ian wasn't even playing because he was the emcee. *goosebumps* The two leading percussionists' drum solo was as expected, jaw-dropping, but I just felt that the section as a whole was very detached from the rest of the band.

I actually managed to derive several methods of avoiding work, which the rest of us picked up quickly. The first was postulatedby Chris' and I, and involved finding a big, wheeled object which is fairly light, and spend like 15 minutes or so rotating it on the spot, and once in awhile shifting it left and right. If anybody actually takes notice, shift it somemore, look annoyed and blame them for blocking us, and proceed to repeat the rotation process again. We realised that in doing so no one will actually say anything or bother to delegate more work to us, or actually realise that we're alive.

The second method, which I came up with, involves more individual skill and expression. Where the first method is a two-player event, the latter is for the single player, when you can't find a partner-in-slack. Basically you walk around very fast and have 'a sense of purpose' in your stride. Look around left and right intensely, prod at things once in awhile, and once in awhile, ask in a frustrated tone to a passerby, 'did you see... ARGH nevermind' then walk off briskly. I actually managed to pull this off for a full fifteen minutes and probably could have continued for longer if I didn't actually have something else to do. This reinforces two of the most important, unmentioned core values here - chao geng and 'eye power'. Goodness the term eye power just cracks me up everytime I see it.

My parents must be so proud of me; for all the moral values I've been inculcated with these past months, the virtues of responsibility, my road to becoming a real man, and becoming a fine and useful citizen.

I'm bitching like some angsty teenage girl again - and when you take into account how I can sit there and listen to some of the guys gossipping for the whole night, you know that this place somehow brings out of the feminine aspect of guys. I can see where all the accusations are coming from, and I can tell you that some of them aren't all that inaccurate. There are some very weird, queer people in here.

Oh yes I got locked out of the building as well - that was quite funny. One of the sergeants, true to army fashion, told me to rush downstairs to check if the Chief of Army's car was here yet. He gave me 2 seconds to do it, and no instructions, and it didn't help that I didn't have any idea what the car looked like, or exactly what I was supposed to be doing even if I did manage to see what I didn't know I was supposed to be seeing but was supposed to see. So I just went down to the foyer, opened the door, looked around, only to hear the door swish close and click behind me - I turned around to see that the door had no handle on it; it was a one way door! I found it quite funny, radioed upstairs to tell them that I was locked out of the building thanks to brilliant direction and leadership, and took my time circling the buliding trying to find a way in again, while fighting off an exodus of audience.

I do miss performing. We don't ever do that - we just do parades which no one actually watches. I miss the concert setup, the reverential silence before a concert which the audience, by some invisible hand, will, for the moment, give the performers a sliver of anticipated respect that they will probably never get under any other circumstace. I miss the mingling backstage, the exchanging of experience, the gifts, the photos. SCH brought back a lot of those memories - the moment I wandered backstage I relived so many of them. My memories of my first concert with RJ, Episode Zero. I remember hiding in the locker of one of the VIP rooms - I remember no one actually knowing me back then, because I'd just joined band. Vincent didn't know me at all. I only knew my three other band classmates. Seeing the whole place again made me realise how much I miss RJ and the band; the people who don't condemn and persecute you for the (perceived) intellect you supposedly show. The people who'll help you because they're your friends, and not people who'll help you using their eye power. This forced 'organisation', and I no longer mean the band, is a far cry away from those days where comradeship and friendship meant something. It is ironic that the army doesn't actually foster this sort of emotion whereas JC and secondary school did. They claim it to be a 'necessary' evil but I don't see it that way either. It's unjustified and many of their arguments are quite flawed. Where it isn't flawed it's just empty wordplay meant to instill patriotic emotions while overriding any real measurable logic. Well, I don't buy it - and most of us don't either. So many reforms that will never be made should be made. It saddens me that I’m more disillusioned than I’ve ever been in my life during the past year. All I see here are empty tables and empty chairs. The whole world of warcraft fiasco about how Singapore gets it like two weeks later than the rest of the world angers me all that more. Some day when I have the means to, I might just migrate – there is very little here for a person seeking out his own path in life.

Oh yeah, and what the heck is up with the Half-Life 2 ending? *boggles* I've got seventeen fully installed games on my com right now and I still have 130 gig left *gloats* Trying to break my own personal best record. Bwahaha I'm such an ass. Should I get an ipaq? Been thinking about it. Expensive as hell though... I can't bring myself to start saving for it...

And I'm stuck in camp until Sunday. Wonderful. So how's the in-camp entry? Pardon the spelling and format - I don't have any spell check or sizing program, and I don't exactly ever read my entry even once through to check anything.

ssato: haha yes... we always talk about such things... in fact, we talk about a lot more *humorous* things, especially while we're cursing and swearing about NDP...
germ: that's an excellent question, germ - I don't even think I'm cut out to do law. Seriously - I can't speak well or think on my feet, I'm just doing it because it seems like the right thing to do. But lately I've been getting more and more disillusioned with the evils I see - and if not for my friends and the things that I love being here... the choices I'm faced with will become so much clearer. I stay for them only, and nothing more, and that's what's holding me back...

Pending Title

2004-11-22T04:21:00.000-08:00

Because I really have to use the bathroom now

Just thought I'd relate some of the more recent happenings before I forget them.

I was at my game 'shop' for my regular scan through the newest titles to see what sort of new things have landed upon our shores in the past week. It's no secret that Singapore, being dissed by other countries as some backwater, third world location (which, mentality wise, probably isn't too far off), receives games like six eons after the initial global release. I don't blame anyone for this, firstly, because most Singaporean gamers don't look past their cheap rigs and bouts of LAN games and their switchblades ready to lash out at anyone who dares disprove their virtual manhood, and secondly, because our retailers do try their very best to get things here. At least, my contacts do. Thirdly; if it weren't for an incessant need to check back at the store so often, I wouldn't be so observant of some of the things in the store. I'm not talking about my familiarity with the shelves (scan in multiples of three, it adds up perfectly and requires the shortest amount of time), but the rather - obscure - section.

Yes, I'm talking about the lewd games; I don't look at them for any reason other than the sheer unbridled comedy it always provides. Yes, I laugh at them, no more, no less. I will say this; people don't realise it, but the sick perverts who actual make such games are actually some of the most creative people I've ever born witness to. The contents of these games are so utterly pathetic (read: sordid) that they normally have to resort to and focus their marketing energy into making clever and witty titles to sell such games. And very often, a combination of genius, wit, and sheer luck leads them to create some real hits. I can't tell if it's butchery of the english language, or intentional, clever manipulation of the language, but it's not often that they manage to come out with titles such as 'Seymour Butts'. I looked at it for a moment and was about to scan the next title when it just tugged at my brain, refusing to let go; I looked at it again, and thought hard, wondering exactly what it was that so held me. Upon pronouncing it aloud in my head I burst into an uncontrolled chuckle at it's totally uninhibited, raw humour, my mind's defensive barriers having been tricked into deactivation. The sheer wit, the 'slashing wordplay' and use of diction really struck me. These guys are literary geniuses, who are rarely appreciated in their own times.

Anyway. Came home and saw 'Pioneer' on my table - the NSmen magazine which we are FORCED to subscribe to with our pay. I always throw it away without even opening the wrapper. My friends ask me why; they often say, 'well since you paid for it, you might as well flip through it, right?' Wrong. That is a fallacy. If I pay for it, I should maximise my own satisfaction, the 'rational' human response - and in this case, the best way to do so is to cut my losses. I'm not going to pay for it, and be forced to look at it's subversive text which no poor sod should ever have to see. I'm not going to let it cause more damage to me as it is.

Took NDP'05 photos today. In our number ones. Waste of effort. Essentially the Bands' percussion sections are doomed. We're bound to our fates to perform at NDP'05, no matter how we don't want to. Speaking of which; NDP? What a waste of time. You throw away hundreds of thousands of man hours just for the sake of a two hour show which is, to your great satisfaction and pride, within a five second margin of error. Well done, congratulations, you've achieved your life goal of punctuality; and your opportunity cost is? Is it even measurable in the millions of the nations' economic dollars? Wake up.

Someone suggested that it's a great opportunity to fulfill my life dream; to screw up the whole parade in front of the entire nation. What worthier way to go is there? I'm amused that someone else mentioned it to me, whereas I didn't even think of such a thing in the first place. What's the worst they can do? Charge me with so many extras that I can't book out for a year? I found it funny. For the record, I'm not going to do such a thing, so don't come sending some intelligence bureau after me. I said I just find it amusing. That's all. It is a pretty innovative idea, though...

Also, I've proven my previous entry 100% fact, with my coming to camp today and realising that I'm on Barrack Orderly duty the coming saturday. Any day of the week, and you can be SURE that my duty will be on the weekend. You don't even have to think about, 'what if's. So my entire Saturday from the early morning is burnt till Sunday morning. How frustrating. I'll just have to find some way to complete Prince of Persia 2 in camp then...

Been jamming with Chris' lately. I've realised that he's got a pretty good ear for music, almost as good as Shaun's perfect pitch. He can play things from hearing, and he's very into pop, and pop lite, the sort of stuff that I'm capable of jamming. And I finally have enough experience and confidence to actually back me up in playing a simple solo properly; having chained together a sixteen bar drumset solo, with accompaniment (and that is a totally different thing from playing alone), and receiving applause from my two seniors, I was ecstatic. I actually subconsciously managed to chain together enough complex rudiments, variety and vocabulary to play a long, extended solo, with other musicians, while feeling good and secure about it all the while. And most importantly, not sounding like some lameass JC kid who thinks he's really good at drums (ie, me back in JC). I hate, I really hate to say this, and I don't mean anything malicious to anyone at all, but it's a sad truth that some of the best drummers don't come from JCs; in fact, most of the best drummers don't. JC kids are too caught up with ego, coolness and their reputation in the eyes of others that they fail to realise their own shortcomings in comparison to drummers from other backgrounds. I'm generalising, of course; but this comes from my experience. After all, I was like that. Myopic, temperamental (I still am), egoistical, sensitive (in that I'm easily hurt). And there is no way a musician can excel under those conditions. I implore all JC students to consider this, because you will most likely never have a chance in JC to realise how large the community outside is, and how much better everyone else is. I think that's some amount of growth there, and I'm quite pleased with what the Bands are doing for me in that aspect. Still have a very, very long way to go, though.

Kay I'm off; Half-Life 2 is draining my soul away. This game is amazing; it's not everyday you stare at the water, totally mesmerised, with some headcrab chomping away at you. I mean, when you're drowning in the game, and meaning unseen things are biting you in the waters, you'd think that you should like, get out; but not so in HL2. This game is so gorgeous you'll slowly get bitten to tiny pieces, and you will love every moment of it. Oh, and Penny Arcade has a hilarious comic, extremely relevant to me, today, since I've played both Everquest and WoW. There is no greater truth here, I promise.

2 more parades this week, and no weekend. Zzz.

Cruise Control

2004-11-21T10:28:00.000-08:00

Old news; open secrets; true lies; bitter sweet; microsoft works

Feeling bothered as of late. An amalgation of many things bothering me have finally gathered enough momentum to bowl me over like a katamari. Even when I sleep, I am restless; my dreams haunt me with the things I don't want to see.

At least I have the choice of my demons now, don't I?

Some people cruise through their lives, just cruise through it - they get all the things they want, they get the things that they don't want, but are great to have anyway, they get the things they don't deserve, the things that people like me want but can never have. They don't deserve things, they don't even ask for it, they're happy they get it, then they'll proceed to rub it in my face. And that is the story of my life. My catchphrase, my one-liner whom all those close to me know me well for now. The story of my life; where stories have ups and downs, mine goes down, slightly up, then mostly down again.

Why? Because I care too much; care too much about the people around me, the consequences of my actions, the things that shouldn't normally have to be cared for excessively. But my life leads me down this path; leads me down the lampless, uneven path of negativity, jealously, anger. I have long accepted that. In fact, by today's standards, I am dull to this sort of pain; numb, unfeeling. But still, whenever I face such things, I feel irritated not by the fact itself, but by the confirmation that, yes, I am in fact the pisshole of the gods. Should I stop giving a damn about the rest of the world like some people I know? Hole myself up (even more than now) in my house, never leaving my computer terminal, afraid of being shelled by the artillary barrage of negativity outside?

Hmm I do sound like what I did back in J1, don't I?

I hate being vague, that's just not me; but I don't like to talk about such things. It's not a matter of the stupid things kids worry about in secondary school or JC anymore; it's the matters of significance which are bothering me now, because while the severity of the problems in my life start having increased ramifications and responsibilities, the karma of my life still remains the same; absolute, distilled bullshit. If karma were an actuality, the next portions of my life should be filled with joy and prosperity given the sort of crap I've been taking.

Well, shit. I sound like some stupid sec three talking about my empty, fragile feelings with my broken english and note-loving ego.

On a (mostly) unrelated note, LSEPS (known as LSE by most people (that's London School of Economics for you(I'm talking about LSE; not LSEPS (which stands for London School of Economics and Political Sciences, by the way)))) sent me their reply today. While not a complete rejection, it's more or less a full rejection, just that universities have this midpoint thing, which is called the reserve list; a nice way of telling you that you're not good enough for them, but you can continue to dream on. It's okay; I've been used to rejections my whole life so this is actually quite good by my standards. No matter. Four more replies to go. Shouldn't get my hopes up, and I'm lucky I never do nowadays.

Oh yeah, and I also realised something else; rejection letters tend to be very thin in nature, from the envelope. That's just something I notice, not a sure-fire fact. They're thin because rejection letters are usually just one piece of paper with your name on it, and the rest just being a template printed on low quality paper. The acceptance ones usually say a little more, and will tend to be slightly thicker, maybe one paper depth thicker. Just thought I would say that, since the envelope was really screaming 'rejected!!!' straight from the moment I picked it up. Anyway, no harm being pessimistic your whole life.

It's worked fine for me, hasn't it? Right? RIGHT? *shrug*

weibin: Half-life 2 rocks, haha. But you'll get your chance soon enough, don't worry.
n1n9: haha what exactly did you bro's batch do? Thanks, anyway..
raffli: yo thanks for dropping by! haha thanks; i'm still envious about NUS law, but what can I say hmm? I don't know if I'll be reading the next in the Thursday Next series... it might just be too - profound? - for me? heheh
germ: hey! thanks for the well wish; my father's (very) fine now. haha what're you implying by 'right' decision? meaning go overseas like you, right.... :p You MUST have some opinion on the issue, so what say you? I haven't quite decided, it's financially so expensive... and I feel like crying just leaving my house, let alone going overseas...

Full-Life

2004-11-19T03:52:00.000-08:00

Is that the same as 2 X Half-Life?

How wonderfully annoying tagboard has been lately. I'm not a real sucker for notes, but it does irritate me when there's something on my page which doesn't work for no apparent reason. No matter.

Went on a binge of primal fury today. Band C, in it's ultimate (and typical) display for contempt for all the other bands, inform us at the last moment that they need half of our band to do their menial tasks for them for the upcoming concert. Consequently, since we have NO lives whatsoever, they take it for granted that our Saturday is immediately set aside for them, and that we have no trouble with coming to work on a weekend just to do their stupid labour for them. We were so infuriated that we just looked at each other with the 'I'm going to @#$%ING KILL THEM!' expression but didn't say anything. Worst still, they don't seem apologetic or even thankful about it, and they just keep talking as though it's our duty, and their right, to order us around.

First of all, Band A and Band B never asked Band C to do things for us. Even during our combined concert, our menial tasks were settled by our own people. But Band C, consisting of regulars, of whom are too delicate and valuable to waste their talents on such tasks, immediately relegate all this to us, because 'that's what we're there for.' The worst part is that it's more than just moving ALL their instruments for them - we are also 'supposed' to do ALL the logistics, ALL the lighting, ALL the prop movement, ALL the gimmicks, ALL the cleaning up, ALL the moving back, and SOME amount of performance for them. The fifteen of us are expected to do all of that. Fifteen people, 9 hours of non-stop labour, while they hang around in the backstage 'chilling with their homies'. They give us vague instructions, push the briefing tasks to one another, and essentially, set us up to take the blame for their own poor planning, since having briefed us (we still have NO idea what is going on), will automatically put all the responsibility on us. They want us to inflate several hundred balloons on the actual day by breath, they want us to move tables full of instruments in seconds, they expect 'perfection' in our movements (with vague instructions), and they give us bullshit talks like, 'MY crew is important to me, so you guys (read: losers) better know what you're doing'. They want us to get from the first floor to the second without being seen or heard within a span of like ten seconds, and I won't be surprised if they're all, 'What? You can't even do such an easy task? Pfft. Typical.'

We got so angry just discussing it, and if anything, such things build up the parade bands' unity - we curse and swear at them and find a lot of humour in it. We're also planning on playing the 'pushing blame' game that they so love; we're going to wreak some havoc by screwing up things and telling them, 'but your OTHER member told me to do something else...' since they obviously have no clue as to what they're asking of us. Fifteen people to do the tasks of like twice that amount of people. We're just going to mill around tomorrow. Should be fun. We'll be watching all the cockups rolling in tomorrow.

With great pleasure.

I mean, we affirm that Band C is freaking good - they're one of the top, and have some of the top musicians - but what's it for if they can't even respect their own fellow bandsmen? I mean, instead of calling it 'SAF Bands' you should have just called it, 'SAF Central Band and its Two Bitches'. I suppose it's a little less catchy.

Don't quote me on the above, I tend to get very overzealous when I'm complaining. There might be factors I've overlooked and don't fully understand, or misintepreted intentions; but I'm just saying, things can be handled a little better with just a little more effort. We'll still do what we're told to, but just not in the good humour that we would normally have if they'd just treat us with more respect.

So, Saturday burnt all of a sudden. Zz.

Finished reading the Eyre Affair. Interesting. It took me 2 sittings to finish it. That's one more sitting than books that really pin me down and refuse to get go, but 2 is nothing to sneeze at. Compared to the 3000 odd sittings I took to read some of my 'A' level texts (which I didn't finish reading anyway). It's an interesting, interesting read. My only advice to potential readers is this: suspend your disbelief, or your head is just going to hurt.

Bought Half-Life 2 and Prince of Persia: Warrior Within today. Sim Lim is stocked with hundreds upon hundreds of them. I was actually afraid that there would be a shortage. And everyone in the store was just queing up to buy it. Crazy. As you can imagine, I'm in agony now just being away from either of these two. I mean, two of the top games coming out on the same day is the work of some sick, perverted tick. This year, no, these two months have been utterly crazy. I actually feel like throwing up from playing Halo 2 - literally. Very queasy stuff. A look at the titles out in this short span of time indicates that not only is there a huge influx of games, they're all the top, the cream of the crop. It's simply impossible to afford all of them. This PA comic probably illustrates it the best. Just a brief runthrough, with price estimates in Sing. dollars of what I want, but won't be able to afford more than a quarter of:

1) Halo 2 Collector's Edition (CE) - Xbox, $74.90 (Purchased)
2) World of Warcraft CE - PC, $160 (Purchased)
3) Need for Speed Underground 2 - PS2/Xbox/PC, $70/$90
4) Half-Life 2 (Non-CE) - PC, $65 (Purchased)
5) Prince of Persia: Warrior Within - PS2, $90 (Purchased)
6) Shadow Hearts: Covenant - PS2, $90
7) Ratchet and Clank 3: Up Your Arsenal - PS2, $90
8) Viewtiful Joe 2 - Gamecube/PS2, $70/$90
9) Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater - PS2, $90 (Sidenote: Metal Gear Solid 2 PA comic was hilariously relevant, for those who remember it. I busted my seams reading this)
10) Metroid Prime 2: Echoes - GC, $90
11) Knights of the Old Republic 2 (MUST GET) - PC, between $60-70
12) Nintendo DS - around $300 (with the release titles, maybe up to $600?)
13) Sid Mier's Pirates! - PC, $60-70
14) Those ultra, ultra cool Mario Dioramas - $20. After import, who knows?

I mean, just a quick and dirty estimate gets the figure to the low thousand. That's just insane. Who the heck spends that much in a holiday season? Is there even that much printed money in existence? I sure haven't seen it. If they actually staggered the release throughout the year, I'd be a much happier person; but it's like the gods of gaming themselves are throwing a massive bachelor party in an alternate paradise, and everybody is invited, but you can't make it because you need to wax your cats.

The Fungy Peanuks Mongster

2004-11-18T03:23:00.000-08:00

Try to say that ten times in rapid succession

That's from another one of the odd discussions between my brother and I; the commonly mispronounced things that our friends and relatives say. Then we kept making fun of local productions and advertisements, with their laughable dialogue, and even worse forms of verbal delivery. We're such jackasses, aren't we?

My father's back from hospital! There weren't many complications, but he did have to stay far longer than estimated due to the complexity of the operation. In any case, we're all glad that he's fine. So he'll get to stay at home for the next month or so for some RnR. Okay, maybe not so - but he'll be trapped within the house for a long time, in any case. Just want to thank the people who've given my family their encouragement and blessings during this difficult period.

Spent a lot of time just doing stupid things in camp. Specifically, I've erected my third pillar (no 'funny' allusions please) of 'thingstoachieveincamp' for my next two years, the first two being reading more so I don't degenerate into a typical Singaporean, and improving my music, which is more or less doomed to certain and inevitable failure. The third is by far more curious - I'm going to take a page out of Weibin's book and start writing in camp. I know I'm not a fantastic writer, but I'm rather keen on doing something vaguely meaningful with my time here. And suffice to say, pen and paper, while being the most visceral method, won't be my adopted method. Mystified? Well. I'll try it out first and maybe then I'll reveal what form of supremely highbrow technology I'm using. It's really cool stuff which hasn't been possible until recent technological developments.

Spent time talking with Chris' about our JC lives - about the people in my lecture groups, about him falling asleep during lecture, about how Gary does funny things in class, about how him falling asleep in class, about the dumb things Gerald and I used to do in band, about him falling asleep in band, about my interesting speech/debate competitions, about him falling asleep during assembly. Soon after an intense discussion on academics, we've derived the most infallible deduction of all, which most people never realise their whole lives - that in fact, the two of us are really stupid people, surrounded by really brilliant people in our school. To put it in a more palatable form, we're like those RPG villagers - who pace back and forth along a three square line, with one line of speech the whole game, in our one room house with nothing more than a bookshelf with one book containing one line of speech, and one vase which strangely enough, contains not flowers, but an apple or some minor health potion. Our typical friends are the guys who run the armory and magic store - they have more lines of speech, more often than not have a 'gossip' option with a buy and sell function, and are frequented by our heroes on a regular basis, unlike us, whom are visited simply by default because 'maybe there's some freebie in his room and he wouldn't mind me rummaging through his things' upon entering the town. Then there's the final, upper class tier, those people who cry when they get 1590 for their SATs, who live in the castle, which strangely enough is always in the north of the map, in a screen of it's own, and will have at least one other entrance other than the main one, like a well surrounded by trees which cannot be traversed. Interesting metaphor, isn't it?

WoW beta ended today! I feel like a chunk of my soul has been wiped together by my character. But alas, my fair Thoupy the Orc, we were never meant to be, and we knew that from the moment we crossed paths. I've preordered the collector's edition set which arrives on Monday, but it's burnt such a deep hole in my pocket that I genuinely, physically feel sharp pains at the thought of it. I guess Half-life 2 will have to tide me over until then. And no, Weibin, I'm not buying it until tomorrow - because you come out of camp then, and I've got integrity.

Okay fine, so it's actually because the game isn't out until tomorrow. So sue me.

I can't believe Marvel sued NCSoft. It's like a tussle between two titans whom I both honestly revered. I'm not choosing a side, but honestly - how can you sue a company for providing the tools to people to explore their imaginations? For the uninitiated, Marvel is sueing NCSoft for City of Heroes, and how people have the degree of freedom to the point where they can actually create characters similar to the well known ones created and patented by Marvel. The general consensus is that NCSoft is only providing the tools, whereas people are the ones responsible for making use of those tools - to draw a similarity, it's like having a paintshop programme without being allowed to draw things which are recognisably patented. It's like stifling creativity. Most people are of this mantra, including myself; it simply doesn't make sense to sue a company which provides the tools.

However, intellectual property (IP) at this point of time, unfortunately, has no stand on this relatively new, unexplored territory of the MMO. The reason is because the player signs a contract every single time he logs on, that he will be using the company's license when he plays the game, and is liable for any misdeeds. The question, then, is who is to blame - the game company, or the player, who is doing nothing more than expressing his imagination? Where does IP draw the line? How 'similar' does a character have to be to be similar? A more interesting scenerio is that this guy actually had a virtual sweatshop in one of these games - he hired the lowest wage workers in some third world country to play the game full time, then sell the items in real life for profit. The company responded by banning every single one of the account - but was this player at any more fault than the rest of us? He simply plays the game using the tools provided to him; he did not infringe upon any corporate laws of piracy, virtual duplication, or malicious hacking. How, in that case, do you peg this case to him, if you'd even call it a case? It's hard to even say for sure whether he's doing any degree of wrong, or just finding an alternative means of subsistence.

Sorry, just thought that was interesting.

Going to catch Incredibles tomorrow. I heard it's, well... uh... must... resist... Urrh... Argh.

Incredible?

I'm so sorry I didn't earlier, but I was trapped at home by a nefarious, virtual entity who seduced me, took what it needed, then left me dry, seeking, confused. No, not that - I'm talking about world of warcraft. What were you thinking?

Goodness. My first maid called from Hong Kong. Amazing. The last time we heard from her was ten years ago - and she was really one of the influences on my youth. She took care of me in my first eight years, and she really, really spoiled me. She was one of the closest people to me; virtually family. She was there when my raccoon still had his sky blue, furry fur and his white coloured ribbon. She saw me grow from an infant to a toddler to a kid. It's pretty emotionally overwhelming to hear from her all of a sudden - we all had a really really long chat with her. Turns out she's coming to visit! The funniest part of the conversation was still, 'so is my darling (me) still as handsome as ever?' and my mother was laughing so hard while saying, 'no, he's really ugly now!' I scowled at her but didn't say anything. Sheesh, you don't have to hammer the point home, you know.

Been reading WB's 'The Eyre Affair' by Jasper Fforde. I think the last actual book I read was 'The Tales of Lowly Worm'. Or maybe 'The Adventures of Noddy'. Nevertheless - I'm not particularly riveted by the book, but I do find the content intriguing. I felt that the narrative style wasn't too strong - in fact, it's somewhat convoluted. I don't quite buy the whole setting either, and am c0nfounded by many of the loopholes I perceive. But I'll give it credit for 'substance over style'. I did read half of it at one go (before subsequently opening my eyes next only to realise that I had passed out for three hours), so that's some positive credit to it. And to be honest, it does make me feel highly stupid, with its absolutely amazing amount of Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Bronte, Defoe, Dickens, Marlow, Austen, Poe etc etc etc. (a super huge amount of other literary references), because I'm probably the only lit s student who hasn't read any of this. In fact, I didn't even read my A level texts. So embarrassing. I'm sure I'd enjoy it a lot more if I knew a few more of these titles. I did study, for some time, the conflict between the various groups of critics as to whether Shakespeare really existed, and all the alternate schools of thought as to the Bard's original writer, as well as the front-man theory. Very, very interesting, I must say, though I really didn't have the time or interest to pursue it very far in J2. I'd recommend reading up on that to anyone who thought Shakespeare was 'boring'. The rabbit hole goes very much deeper than that.

Wow, reading an actual book. That's probably the most intelligent thing that's happened -here- since we decided that huge holes would be the best modern defence against artillery strikes, that the safest way of handling firearms are handling those that don't actually work, and that the best way to get things done would be... to not. I must be some form of neo-renaissance thinker of the age.

And now for something completely different

2004-11-16T01:24:00.000-08:00

What's decisive about this force, exactly? The force of gravity, perhaps?

Kids toss wallet into huge drain outside their school as I walk past. They holler at me to help them. I hop the fence, climb in with my backpack, earphones still on, and navigate my way in. Why? Is it out of the goodness of my heart? Or am I somehow led to believe that in doing so, I will accumulate positive karma and make up for the wrongs in my life? Or perhaps, a token contribution to societal expectations that we should set an example to the young, and example for them to follow, a physical idea in their heads for them to witness and get a firm hold on? Exactly what mishmesh of events have intersected in the process, setting off the chain reaction of things to come, in more than one camp?

On the bus, I get the realisation that, having a gap of six stops in which I can change my bus at any stop, that there is a possibility that somewhere in the overlapping bus routes, there might be some way to cut minor costs off the fare. I spent the journey evaluating the six different possibilities - but should I really be bothered? Has anyone thought of investigating this system, prior to this, given the non-linear fare increases? Would I be exploiting the system, and in the end cheating no one but myself? Should I be emotionally involved? Or worse still, are there other factors to take into account? Time, the peak periods, when and where people get on and off the bus; exactly how does the comfort and atmosphere convert into a rate of exchange in this situation?

Spent some time debating about the importance of the feminine touch while in NS - for no other reason, than to retain a sense of self. How important is it to stay in contact with a person of the opposing sex, for no basis other than self-preservation? With no malicious or impure intent, but just for the necessary sustanence, the release from the slowly degenerative mental oubliette that closes around any idle guys mind? The normality isn't difficult to preserve - but there are people who change over time. Is this due to innate weakness, or is this normal for a place such as this? A place so devoid of comfort that somehow, you have to seek comfort from other sources, and other source? And how plausible, if at all, is the concept of communication purely for the sake of communication and identity?

Arvin and Bernard took the bus in front and got off to take the bus I was on, on the basis of, 'increasing our chance of getting a rideable bus'. Exactly what empirical evidence is there to prove that there is an increased probability of getting one? Statistical data? What backs up this sort of sweeping generalisation? Should I care, or tell them the confusion that they have just stirred up within me?

The new education system - the revamped A level syllabus, the new subjects - should I feel jealous, relieved, or in fact, anything at all? Should I be glad that I'm out of the running, or wish that I was a part of it once again? Would things have been different for me under the new system; could I have done better?

Chris' dog likes to eat rocks, apparently. So with the assumption that cookhouse fish tastes like rock, and cookhouse pork has the texture of rock, in a choice between cookhouse fish, pork, and rock, which will his dog eat? It's something we can't derive based on logical deduction.

I'm addicted to yoghurt.

The fact that chinese in Singapore aren't even reproducing enough to cover their own parents - is this a cause for concern? Are we going to be overwhelmed, swallowed in an ethnic tide? Will the dynamics of our emulsion of a population swerve in a large way for the worse? Do people care? The subculture of the nation that every country has is particularly strong in our country. Why is this so? Why are we, to some extent, encouraging this sort of behaviour, and pride in something we shouldn't feel proud of? Are we so outnumbered by the baseless population that we can no longer stand in the running of other countries in this knowledge race. I think so.

Clearly I'm getting more and more disgruntled with the local life here. Everyday I experience so much hate and idiocy, as the lies are separated from the truths. The lies that are pulled across are eyes to blind us. Their subversion only lasts as long as we remain ignorant - and some of us actually break free from that mental captivity to see the reality of the situation. That the harmony, the beliefs that we harbour are all mistruths. How things are being done here. I have no doubt in my mind that we are going to suffer, in the near future, for our shortsightedness. For our empty promises, and empty lives we lead. For the misplaced pride, and our unyielding arrogance in our traditions.

I'm not quite sure how I'm feeling right now - light-headed, to be certain - but not necessarily faint. I suppose this feeling is exhaustion. I haven't slept much in the past 24 hours; at best an hour or two. A little dizzy, but still full of strange thoughts. This must be what being on shrooms feels like.

My five day holiday is over, much to my dismay - though I think I spent it eventfully. Specifically, my day involved cycles of waking up, playing World of Warcraft, going to the hospital, playing World of Warcraft, and then sleeping. Just repeat that for five days and you'd get the idea. It might sound like a totally loser way to spend my holidays, but I can give no better description than the reason as to why I don't regret it: WoW is the be all, end all; the one game to rule them all, if you will. Period.

Huawei messaged me to tell me that he was going to fail his exams. Well, I did warn him. WoW isn't exactly a normal. Half-life 2 came out and I didn't even blink. That should say something.

Facing some very real problems - very common, very pertinent problems. Should I stay here and study or go overseas? The time to choose is almost at hand; suddenly I'm too disgusted with the things here. I want to go other places. This place just isn't for me. But the cost is just too much to think about. If it were just me, it would be fine. But thinking about my brother - who is probably doing his MBA at Harvard of MIT in two years time, the same time as me - what choices am I left with? It's difficult to finance two full overseas courses of education. Probably will have to sell out the other house and my brother's car, if not moreso. It's a very real, and very harsh problem. My parents still keep the faith in me studying here; I don't dare to tell them about my changes in perspective. That I now have an inkling for other places. Not because I want to experience a new lifestyle, but because this place is driving me insane.

My friends often ask why I stay at home all the time. The answer I give them is because I have no life. The truth is that, I have too much of a life. Too much to waste outside. See the places frequented by the local children, the teenage gangsters who revel in superficiality, ignorance, arrogance, their pathetic hi-bye culture. The rude and immature adults, the senseless plebeians, the smokers - I get angry at the things I shouldn't. I will never understand people who frequent clubs, who insist on 'meeting people' for no other reason than to be hip, sociable, and in; and worse still, those who proudly stand by it and proclaiming it to the world, denouncing others, the others who actually have self-awareness. So I just stay at home. Because I get emotional easily. Because I'm sick of the hypocrisy and the pure, liquid irony, threatening to drown me in it's purest form, invisible to everyone else, but wholly material to me. Because at home, I meet people from around the world, where the grass is greener on the other side, to be sure. Because I get to be delusional and talk to myself with no one to judge me; at least that guarantees semi-sentient conversation.

At least I make more sense to myself than these societal ails.

I apologise - it's the sleep deficit talking. I don't intend to be anti-establishing or personal.

I sure love my raccoon. The earnesty in his smile, his eyes. His smile that bears to burden or reminder of the pains of life. Always optimistic, always there for me. He'll never betray me - and he sits there with open arms, ready to comfort me at a whim. My dearest of dear friends, with the least things to say, and no judgment to bear. Only forgiveness to the rest of the world, and empathy for those in need of it.

Geekspeak

2004-11-12T05:45:00.000-08:00

This war doesn't call for a hero - it calls for a saviour.

Been visiting the hospital lately - twice a day on average. He's been showing great signs of improvement, not only be the day, but by the visit. The colour is returning, and so is his humour - he can now speak emotionally and expressively, a huge improvement. I still remember the day immediately after the op - when I saw him throwing up, barely conscious, aware of our presence but incapable of expressing that awareness. I felt like crying.

Surprising, for the cold, emotionless, and unfeeling person that I am, isn't it?

Indeed ones amongst those closer to me must have already realised by now, the extent of the sacrifices I make simply in order to open up this window to post something new; to drag my physical manifestation, with it's unwilling, preoccupied sentience to the forefront in order that some form of new content may be excreted upon this simplistic, man-made interface, with it's idealistic yet superficial intentions. You know what I speak of, yet you cannot comprehend the link between it's physical, organic form, and the wider, wholly immeasurable implications. It has no doubt ushered in a new age on this plane of existence. I will go to that in a moment. The geek ramble starts now, and unless you can recite to me the order in which characters appear in KotOR, you probably lack the capability and interest to withstand the following.

First the more obvious. Halo 2 is indeed a boon for any Xbox owner. It's not surprising, then, that they sold over US$100 million worth of the game on the very first day. I will say that it's a tremendous improvement upon the first, which is to be expected, but all the more unbelievable once it's been realised. However, the FPS console is always cursed, because it's simply never meant to be. It's like a typical marriage which is breaking apart at the seams, but cobbled together by sheer practicality, convenience and common sense. However, while I grapple with nausea (which is unusual for me) and the controls, I feel compelled to continue driving the story forwards, and to see what continues to happen in Master Chief's latest adventure. Unfortunately, Bungie declarations forbid me to delve into the storyline, so I will uphold that integrity. I will also say that few games keep me on the edge of my bed (yes I sit on my bed), and needing to pee so badly, while not being pushed beyond that boundary and simply switching it off. Hear that, Doom 3?

The collector's edition box is the single nicest packaging, next to my iPod, that I've ever seen or had the privilege to unwrap. The smell of the fresh plastic shrink wrap is enough to send my mind into the most beautiful of lands. The box comes in this chrome plating sort of plastic, and the binding is just gorgeous. The seal closes perfectly with a sort of snug, secure air-lock 'shh' like on Star Trek. Just opening and closing the box is enough to give me goosebumps. The halo 2 symbol is just so distinctive, stylish, and simple - just a number two within a broken circle, a sign meaningless, incomprehensible, to most, but everything to the special few like us.

The less obvious, and much to Halo's plight, is that I successfully registered for the World of Warcraft Beta. Yes, I'm one of the few thousand (around the world) who successfully pulled off a registration, with my brother, for the open beta which closed within a few hours.

I can only say that every moment I don't play it hurts. It's that good. When I'm out I'm driven insane with the knowledge that there are other people playing, whereas I'm not. For those who truly know me well enough: It's good enough to make me wake up in the morning. There is no stronger testimony to it's greatness. I cast aside Halo 2 for it, and stopped playing City of Heroes. I'm staying at home on the weekend just so I can witness the next installment of my intrepid orc hunter. I know that I won't be able to keep my Beta characters when the game goes live, but even with that knowledge, I simply can't stop playing. I'm just so drawn into it that I really don't care anymore. Every moment is sheer, unadulated gaming euphoria. Simply by playing it, you feel piety towards the gaming gods, realising that they must exist in order that one may be granted such pure, noble enjoyment.

It opts for evolutionary over revolutionary, and does it with great style. While City of Heroes has certainly spoilt us with it's convenient minimaps, intricate plotlines and travelling time, of which the WoW Beta doesn't seem to offer as yet, WoW has a lot of charm and style going for it. It's a game that values enjoyment, over grinding, as I see it. It succeeds greatly. The Beta is experience horrid, really awful lag, since it's a server stress test beta, so I'll give it the benefit of the doubt. However, the magnitude and elegance of the game, coupled with seamless zone transition is testimony to the evolution of games in the genre.

I ordered the collector's edition set, and haven't looked back since. I've been anticipating this game, like many others, for over two years now. I was practically trembling with anticipation upon beginning the two hour download. And in two weeks time, I'll experience the greatest high ever, this year. I can't tell you how excited I am.

Oh, Half-life 2 arrives soon! When will the madness end?

weibin: haha I'm glad. I can't say the same about when Dave Weckl came though. (bashes head into desk) ARRRGGHH!!! I would have brought my cymbal there for him to sign (seriously), if I had known that he would eventually become my idol.

random: Oh yes, an adventure game freak! pity it's a dying genre... though Syberia wasn't all too bad. Still love the Curse of Monkey Island series and Grim Fandango though :)

germ: thanks a lot! haha still haven't chosen though... answer's still blowing in the wind... I guess I'll have to wait for the other replies first...

Disclaimer

2004-11-09T07:47:00.000-08:00

Softly, as in morning sunrise...

Just updating as a matter of a courtesy, for I fear that the next few days of my life will be utterly consumed by unseen forces, as nature takes its course.

Firstly, I'm glad that the - complication - went well. He's now recovering in ICU. It's been a terribly worrying period of my life, and it's not over by a longshot; but the worst is over. Now it's just a matter of recovery. I didn't want to mention it earlier (and I'm still not going to), simply because I don't want any attention. Will visit the hospital tomorrow after work.

Anyway - as I was mentioning about the annihilation of my social life. Turns out that I'm getting Halo 2 Collector's Edition the very same day my World of Warcraft Open Beta download finishes. The two biggest, without a doubt, releases in the whole year, and they come on the same day. I don't know whether to collapse from inexpressible euphoria, or to kill myself because any time away from either of them (and I can't play them both, as much as I try) will be like trying to shoulder the weight of the entire universe while eating uncooked brocolli. A person would be hardpressed to actually get me to move from my chair - getting me out of my room is another matter altogether. And best of luck to you if you actually intend to move me from my house anytime soon. Even if you did move Mt. Olympus last week and tore another rift in the Grand Canyon before lunch today, I'd say the chance of moving me several metres in the next few days would take an exponentially larger amount of effort.

It's hard to imagine, I suppose for most people, that a person can be so dedicated towards something as I am. It's true - my friends at camp are truly terrified after having discovered this trait of mine. Indeed they revere me and humbly request information from me pertaining to certain things, from game reviews, to the history of Acclaim, the fall of Black Isle development studios, or even where Bullfrog originally went. Why Fallout 3 is under a different development house, why KotOR 2 is no longer under the same - these are all questions which are paltry pieces of trivia to me, disjointed from the sheer body of the gaming existence; insignificant questions, which while earnest in purpose, fail to address the more pertinent concerns of gaming, and the network, the cohesion and coexistence of games which, irrespective of one another, serve to mould the gaming continuity as we see it. Indeed they often ask, how do you play a game for eighteen hours on end, or witness Fatality winning the world championships live? I can't explain how I do it - it just is. Some people are good at math, some people are pitch-perfect, some people erode the human soul - this is what I do.

Think Diablo and Red Alert are old school? Listen and learn, chump.

Do you remember the days of playing Disc, that Tron spinoff? How the platforms disappear beneath your feat, leaving you to fall into the gaping chasm after too many mistakes? The huge Might and Magic 1 pixels? Archon? King's Quest? Ultima? Bard's Tale 2? Romance of the Three Kingdoms? I do. Deathtrack. King's Bounty, the precursor to the hugely famous but ultimately doomed HoMM. Space Hulk. I remember playing the original Pirates, about slightly before Star Control 1. The revolution that was called Wolfenstein 3d? I remember the boss that threw knives, and the last boss with the four machine guns. Remember the bloody dogs which leapt at you from corners, the Hitler paintings which slid aside to reveal the Nazi treasures? I was there soiling myself when Doom first came out, when IDDQD and IDSPISPOPD, aside from GOOBER, was among the first of the landmark cheats which actually hid a clever message inside them. The par time of the first Doom 2 level? 00:30. You spawned with a pistol - take a left turn to pick up the chainsaw. All these, I remember. Tie-Fighter? I was there, with the joystick. I got gold for every one of the flight test maps. I received the emperor's seal. I was there before the right-handed joystick even came into existence. I was there when they revealed the awesome, intimidating Tie Defenders, and the obscenely swift and brutal Tie Interceptors. Battlechess.

I was there for Zool and Jazz Jackrabbit. Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? Where in Time, and Where in USA is Carmen Sandiego? LucasArts' Curse of Monkey Island. I remember LeChuck. Guybrush. Murray. Gabriel Knight. Warcraft. Prince of Persia, and Prince of Persia 2. Oh those huge sawblades, and the floating potions, and prerendered blood splatters - they sure gave me chills. Star Control: Armada. Wing Commander. Wing Commander: Prophecy had nothing less than stunning graphics. Independance War. Master of Orion.

The Er'Kuan. The Kor'ah. The Mycons, the Spathi, the Spekunk and their 'Hallelujah' themed reincarnations. Anyone recognise where these are from?

Liero. Before Worms, there was Scorched Earth. Pipe Dream. Lemmings. Then the new age. Descent. Dungeon Keeper. Need for Speed. Dark Reign.

Anyone remember how long it took to kill things in Doom? I do. 1 shotgun shell for imps, or 8 pistol shots. 16 for the pitbull things, 32 for the evil eyes. The BFG, the first radical concept of a gun. Did you know I was so afraid of Doom that my maid had to sit next to me when I played it? In retrospect she probably had near to negative interest or awareness of what I was doing.

The windows revolution. I remember my first CD-Rom game: Return to Zork, the sequel of Zork, somewhat a creepy Myst spinoff. The first puzzle was to build a raft out of plank and vines. But first, to get around the Raven's Pass. Around the same time, 11th Guest came out as well, with its spooky vowel-less cans puzzle. Second CD game? Normality. Getting trapped within your own room in the future, escaping on a tarpaulin. Third? Afterlife. Fourth? Chaos Overlords. Gang warfare at it's finest. Then came Duke Nukem, with it's esoteric trip mines and freezeray. I remember all of this. I remember the sleepness nights from Fallout, slaugtering whole villages for fun then accidentally pressing 'quick save', and the laughs from Leisure Suit Larry. I laughed at 'Where's Dildo?!' even before I was old enough to appreciate the humour. I was stumped by what was soon destined to become the most obscure of the adventure series, Myst. Then came Quake, the frigging revolution in itself. Mouselook. Carmack. Romero. The new buzzwords of modern day gaming. Chaos Engine. Command and Conquer spawned the whole RTS genre by itself, after the relatively abysmal sales of Dune. I played it at Ruizhi's house, across the road. One Must Fall: 2015; the last boss was named Ian Teveras, his fighter was the Nova. Mechwarrior Two. Then there was Grim Fandango, the hallmark of adventure gaming, the blend of mexican motifs with a humorous spin on the morbid issue of death. X-wing VS. Tie Fighter, Rebel Assault, Diablo, Daggerfall, MM seven, Unreal Tournament, Sim City, Sim Tower, Sim Tunes, Alpha Centuri. Unreal Tournament - I must have spent months of my life on this, at least. I played it for six whole years, every single day, mastering every nook and cranny of every weapon and every map. I knew every single glitch in the game, and I felt the changes in every patch, like a disturbance in the force.

Would you believe that I can still hum the theme song of Archon, accurately, till this very day?

Crusader: No Remorse. Heroes of Might and Magic. Rise of the Triad, with it's oddball explosive cross gun. Heretic, Hexen, Unreal. I remeber the crystal gun, the ethereal crossbow, the nali assault, the nailgun and the railgun. I was there. I've dabbled in the locally taboo MMORPGs. I played Everquest for 15 days, meaning 15 X 24 hours. I've tasted Star Wars Galaxies, brought up two major characters in City of Heroes who're respectable in level to this day. I was there to when Majestic announced it's monumental but eventually misguided plans. I've pondered about the lack of Alienware and Falcon boutique PCs here, simply because the plebeian gaming mentality here is 'I'll get the PC if it's cheap and good'. There isn't any pride in the hardware - no optimising to get the most bang from your buck. It's all just the common, local tastes which exists in all that we do, and define the very lives we live, and make us all that more laughable to outsiders.

I'm not even going to try to start on console games. It's just too ridiculous to fit that much in here. It's almost looking like some college thesis.

Feeling breathless from reminiscence yet? Are your eyes welling up with tears? If so then I salute you in earnest - you are truly worthy of being a hardcore gamer, and you shall henceforth be known as one; Wear that accolade with pride, for you are a noble and endangered breed.

I'm not even going to go into anything that was released even five years ago, because nostalgia has few limits when it comes to this topic. Include a lifetime of reading articles, fan fiction, magazines, forums, discussions, previews, reviews, and you wouldn't even have a vague idea of how dedicated I am to this sect. Creepy, huh? Anyway, I don't know what inspired me to actually take a short look back at my history. Sorry. I'm like the T.S. Eliot of gaming, if you get the reference.

Back to wondering how I can actually split my existence into two, self-sufficient components in order to scrape together enough fragments of time and sentience to play host to two of the biggest titles to be released this year. It's unreasonable that any self-respecting gamer should have to be put through such sheer anguish, such hideous, gruesome, inhumane torture.

Listening to: Fastball - You're An Ocean

Weibin: Uh I've kinda preordered Half-life 2, because I want it on the day it comes out. Contact me if you want more information on how to get it...

ssato: Haha thanks... it's nothing big, really. Rollercoaster Tycoon? Haha been there, done that. Good stuff, though it gets a little overwhelming. And it's got a rather steep difficulty curve...

JM: haha I don't think I've got any wit left in me - that assumption that I did have some in the first place is no more than anecdotal in nature. But anyway, I think it's unlikely in any case that I'll do literature professionally... I really don't have that sort of talent or interest :)

wy: I don't know... I want to stay locally.. but I've been getting more and more jaded with the local education as the days go by... I'll still consider it, of course, but I'm reluctant to go as much as I'm reluctant to stay. And of course - NUS is too good for me, isn't it? Heh. I think the only clear cut case is if one of the truly truly huge-name major universities make me an offer...

Just another cog in the works

2004-11-07T04:13:00.000-08:00

Truly an eventful day.

First, of course, was the first ever CoG I did, the change of guard, at the Istana. It's by no means the first time I've seen it, but it is the first time I tried it.

It was quite entertaining - and I must the amount of attention you tend to attract while parading down a busy Orchard Road stretch is quite unnerving, listening to the sharp, metallic clanging of the cowbell, reverbing off the high walls of the surrounding buildings, clashing with the mellow brasses. It will probably the only period of time in my life where I'll get to walk down Orchard with such impunity, although that means that I have at least six or seven more of these parades, and the next time, I'll actually have to fully write out the solos since Arvin would have passed out from here. Scary.

The drum solo - I didn't walk out of step this time! I was perfectly relaxed about it, contrary to what the initial few rehearsals suggested. I'm not even going to talk about the tripping over myself, the misteps, and the technical faults my section managed to produce while doing our Merry-Go-Rounds around our complex. I really smashed the cowbell this time, I think, to Arvin's satisfaction, in order to fulfil his high expectations. I don't know if the whole latin feel came out (we actually separated the latin styles into samba, latin, mozambique, songo), but I don't think we've played together seriously before, until then. It was fairly entertaining. I didn't screw up my solo! Though Arvin got a little panicky somewhere in between and 'decided' that he wanted to take my solo in addition to his, and after his solo, he proceeded to plow into my bar. I didn't stop taunting him after with the whole Drumline quote ('You want my solo?! Take it!'), with him apologising profusely. Very funny.

Too tired to even attend the jazz fest at Chijmes. It's supposed to be huge - with some of the biggest names in the local scene performing, but I'm just too exhausted. And my neck was aching like crazy, in addition to the profuse sweating all over, stinging my eyes and tastebuds. Worst part? I work as per normal tomorrow. Which means that effectively my work week started this sunday. Argh.

Second piece of surprising news was the Maja's suspenseful, 'you want to hear some good news...?' Turns out the new trainees no longer have to stay in, having fulfilled our two months term. Woo!

Lastly, and perhaps the most important, and surprising piece of news. Woke up this morning to find a UCAS envelope on my table, so I tore it open, thinking that it was just another one of those administrative letters that have been annoying me the past month - only to see that it was an offer list from a single university. The huge block text read, 'Unconditional Offer', followed by this half page blank. Needless to say I was quite confused, and disappointed, given the huge empty space. Especially since at the bottom, they said some form of congratulations for being granted the above offer(s), it being this gaping blank! Only after awhile later did I notice an official looking detail box in the top right corner, reading:

KCL M100 Sep06 1.

I thought for a moment before realising what it meant - that I've been granted an unconditional offer for the law course at King's College London! I didn't know what to feel. KCL - one of the top law universities in the UK! My first of the six replies that I'm going to receive, as well as the first (hopefully not last) positive one! Thrilling. After all this time, I didn't actually think I would ever be granted a place in law anywhere - but the reality now is that I have a place somewhere, and it's a prestigious enough place, no matter the outcome of the other applications. I can't quite describe the feeling, but it's somewhere on the lines of 'good'. I can only hope for the best - I really want a chance at Oxford. Not only because it's a 5* ranking law institute, not only for the prestige and security, not only for the reputed education, the tried-and-tested wholistic approach to learning, but also - from a personal standpoint - so that I can laugh at bloody NUS. I want to jump on their tables and yell, 'YOU GUYS SUCK! TOO ARROGANT TO TAKE ME IN RIGHT? YOUR EDUCATION SYSTEM IS TOO STRONG FOR ME RIGHT? NEVERMIND!!!' with Sgt. M playing techno in the background. I know it's such a slim and unlikely chance, but wow, that's an awe-inspiring thought. To be able to laugh at our education system in the face. It's like, one of my career aspirations, one of the dreams I need to fulfil before the end of my life.

Boy, am I winded. I'm glad that I've been granted a choice of my own poison, at least. I can feel safe for the moment with the knowledge that I have a place, someplace, in the world. Now to see how much more I can get from this cycle.

New games I've gotten this week - Rollercoaster Tycoon 3, Evil Genius, Bard's Tale. This is ridiculous. With Halo 2 coming on tuesday, Halflife 2 AND Prince of Persia 2 simultaneously releasing within a fortnight, and a possible end month World of Warcraft, it's come to a point in time where a gamer simply needs two or three computers, sets of limbs, and televisions. I mean, how does anyone find the time to play all this? I'm still scraping out free time to play Paper Mario 2, RCT3, B'sT, EG, and Sims 2, and I already feel suffocated with the onslaught of new releases. Crazy.

Anyway - thanks so much to the people who came for the street parade today! I hope you guys enjoyed it.

I feel violated

2004-11-03T05:03:00.000-08:00

take a left at pleasantview, trek through the mines of moria, then stop by the mushroom kingdom - but don't forget to visit Maze by the Hook Coast...

Finished my LNAT 15 minutes ago. Well actually, now it's half an hour, thanks to this piece of ass. Anyway, it was brutal. Aside from a fairly reasonable 'response', not so much a full-bodied essay, about education, which I guess 97% of the candidates picked as well, the language component was to say the least, murderous. It's the hardest verbal assessment I've ever encountered.

Don't even talk about the archaic english, or the surreal and abstract feminist essay - passage 7 on the whole 'canon' thing, in which I didn't even know what the 'canon' was even till the end of the passage, was quite depressing. Toss in huge words I don't even understand - 'philological minitiae'? 'panglossian optimism'? 'quotidian'? 'machiallevian intentions'? And of course a whole assortment of other terms I didn't understand but can't quite remember. I was dumbfounded most of the time - I mean, I have to be, it's an exam - but if I could speak during the exam, I would be dumbfounded. In a glazed-over-eyes-jaw-dropped kind of way. I couldn't do half of the questions the first time through, and I'm guessing most of them are wrong anyway, if the sample paper taught me anything.

And I don't care where you're from, law faculty or whatever - don't give me the 'but these are normal terms, my dear boy, perfectly sensible english' nonsense - I've gotten enough of that from my brother today as it is. Bah. Walking dictionary, my friend called him. That about sums it up pretty accurately, I guess.

Feels like economics all over again. Hm.

Spent some time laughing at the RJ people next to me - 'A levels GP tomorrow? What's A levels? What're you doing here?' Bwahaha. I'm such an ass. Considering that they'll probably do better than I ever did in my life. But hell, I'll take whatever mockery I can get for now.

It's hard to imagine it, but I'm finally done with the troublesome application process - all the nonsense responses, forms, surveys, moving from place to place asking things, taking profficiency tests, interviews - it's finally over, for now. I'm just waiting for replies from universities. Feels like I'm waiting for my A level results. Hopefully I won't have to repeat this highly demoralising cycle all over again.

Right, that's it. If this screws my entry again, I'm mailing myself in a huge box to the creators of this site so I can screw them personally with incredibly blunt, rusty tools in places too gruesome to even imply.