tired. and already, the week ahead looks set to stretch. beyond nothingness. eaten up in a flurry of doing things. i'm tired.
and my dreams are back. dreamt that today we had to skydive throught the white puffy clouds under the watchful eyes of an instructor. the thing with dreams are that you wake up halfway, wanting to continue with them, yet it's time to wake up. because unfinished dreams are after all, unfinished, and then you wake up feeling shortchanged because you'd never know the ending of that dream.
apart from skydiving i dreamt of kc too where this girl was scrubbing the toilet because she misbehaved.
hmm.
***
green spotted floors. scratching of pen against paper. latecomers. spaced out looks. it's strange how life goes on elsewhere when ours ceases to exist in a spectrum anymore.
the grass is always "greener" on the other side.
***
tired.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
vernon god little, and art
sounds morbidly fascinating and slated to be my next read.
touted to be "fit to rank with Catcher in the Rye", being "the outstanding literary debut of 2003". i know 2003 was eons ago. i even thought of getting Y this as a birthday gift back in 2003 until the entire gang decided to give him a stupid game set bought from some god forsaken country which made it clear that he wasn't that good a friend to us. bad us.
i also borrowed tangerine by colin cheong, about this guy travelling around in Vietnam. perhaps it will be hanoi next then.
art class today. with the primary one kids. alot of things went wrong. leaf printing. the plan was 1. colour the drawing block first with a light colour. 2. crumple paper up and dip in paint, blot and then stamp on the drawing paper to create a messy stamped effect 3. everyone to take a leaf and paint it and have leaf prints! lovely! planned.
reality rules: 1. only 2 pupils out of 30 7 year olds brought paint. 2. i had only one tiny cup where they could dip paper and leaves. 3. the leaves were bloody waxy and paint was splattered in droplets on the leaf. 4. which adds up to the fact that 30 kids came running to the teachers' table with their blocks, excited and shouting "i want the leaf!" 5. i had no paintbrush.
end result: everyone colours first. anyhow mix blue paint haphazardly. (side note: the blue paint are remains from own primary school days ten years ago. not dried up yet. god is good. borrow paintbrush from one pupil. the pupil that i made cry a week ago. vow to be nicer to him. crumple a4 paper, dip, pass to pupil. let those who really make alot of noise do the leaf print. leaf print turns out awful! but they can't tell. i don't say anything either.
at the end of the period: teacher's table is in a blue mess. scramble and yells, "my paint shop is closed!". children echo the same words. pack up, dammit. only 5-10 mins left! "hand up your work! make sure it's dry! blot with paper if not dry!".
clear up blue mess faster than expected. damage is minimal. my waterbottle turns blue. paint has seeped through my nails and hardens in the crevice between my nail and my skin. i look like i have hypothermia.
the end: clearing up is surprisingly fast. have some minutes to spare. sits on chair in front of classroom. big smile and relief. "shall we have a look at one another's work?" holds up 30 pairs of artwork one at a time and watch individual pupils beam and raise their hands proudly as their work is held up.
the final question: did you enjoy the art lesson today? the resounding yes makes me think that thinking on your feet is important? no, perhaps not. making the best out of a crap situation perhaps. maybe.
and their work was nice! like abstract art!
so, potato printing next time. please bring paint and potatos.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
passion, cushion, action
passion according to alvin pang.
cushion according to me.
the days see me alot in refurbished places, old schools of long ago. like the teachers' network. like the old braddell primary school for election training. like the old PE college for today. the doctor-mountain climber came to speak today. familiar faces all round. the food sucked. on beaming powerpoint slides showed the faces of those familiar to me 4 years ago on a tiny island. david, nam jin, i thought of lynn, valerie. edwin. sap. leng-er, edvan. so many. siva.
thoughts and thoughts.
cushion according to me.
the days see me alot in refurbished places, old schools of long ago. like the teachers' network. like the old braddell primary school for election training. like the old PE college for today. the doctor-mountain climber came to speak today. familiar faces all round. the food sucked. on beaming powerpoint slides showed the faces of those familiar to me 4 years ago on a tiny island. david, nam jin, i thought of lynn, valerie. edwin. sap. leng-er, edvan. so many. siva.
thoughts and thoughts.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
crumbled paper
In a Classroom
Talking of poetry, hauling the books
arm-full to the table where the heads
bend or gaze upward, listening, reading aloud,
talking of consonants, elision,
caught in the how, oblivious of why:
I look in your face, Jude,
neither frowning nor nodding,
opaque in the slant of dust-motes over the table:
a presence like a stone, if a stone were thinking
What I cannot say, is me. For that I came.
struggling out of imperfection.
the days reach as long as shadows at dusk.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
motion sickness
literally and figuratively.
from quick movements, waif-like, turning, bending, moving, things spinning from a quick movement. sitting on the bus seats and having the bus start off after having stopped at the traffic lights and then stop at another one- jerking to a stop and throwing the passengers forward before coming to a complete halt. The head spins and you are unable to think of anything in a maze of concentration.
motion sickness when life moves too fast and you are lost in the middle.
and the tokyo earthquake.
frog could not stop worm.
i remember reading about frog as 157 cruised along jurong east, passing by parc oasis and smiling about the absurdity of the story. yes, Ingerrnt, there was perhaps something illuminatingly attractive about reading some light hearted materials. during the light hearted days when we were still free.
literally and figuratively
from quick movements, waif-like, turning, bending, moving, things spinning from a quick movement. sitting on the bus seats and having the bus start off after having stopped at the traffic lights and then stop at another one- jerking to a stop and throwing the passengers forward before coming to a complete halt. The head spins and you are unable to think of anything in a maze of concentration.
motion sickness when life moves too fast and you are lost in the middle.
and the tokyo earthquake.
frog could not stop worm.
i remember reading about frog as 157 cruised along jurong east, passing by parc oasis and smiling about the absurdity of the story. yes, Ingerrnt, there was perhaps something illuminatingly attractive about reading some light hearted materials. during the light hearted days when we were still free.
literally and figuratively
Friday, July 22, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
dreams, part infinitus
i can't even sleep well at night. today i dreamt that i gave my p1 class the wrong artwork to do and the form teacher who told me what to do in art class today came in during the lesson and found out that her class was not doing what she wanted them to do, which was to essentially design stuff for the noticeboard competition, so the noticebaord was left empty for the competition.
opening of the South Zone Centre of Excellence here today. have to dress smart and i lose a few periods. am glad i'm losing library period though.
opening of the South Zone Centre of Excellence here today. have to dress smart and i lose a few periods. am glad i'm losing library period though.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
scraps
i wonder if memory fades to some obscure place in our minds, staying there as it is while we try to find it, hunting, and then failing. hunting and then, failing.
scraps.
i was reading a long letter, not unlike the 7 page letter that i read about earlier yesterday. or perhaps i was influenced by that. we shall never know.
my writing sucks but still i want to type.
oh. i was staring at my lap top in the same way then. except that my keys were not on the keyboard and typing furiously like now. i was staring at a corner of my screen, eerily.
the letter.
bits of words, alphabets put together to form a semblence of meaning that we all agree groups of words are blessed with.
basically, i knew that i still had a friend.
scraps.
i was reading a long letter, not unlike the 7 page letter that i read about earlier yesterday. or perhaps i was influenced by that. we shall never know.
my writing sucks but still i want to type.
oh. i was staring at my lap top in the same way then. except that my keys were not on the keyboard and typing furiously like now. i was staring at a corner of my screen, eerily.
the letter.
bits of words, alphabets put together to form a semblence of meaning that we all agree groups of words are blessed with.
basically, i knew that i still had a friend.
fireflies
I closed my eyes and steeped myself in that long-ago darkness. I heard the wind with unusual clarity. Far from strong, the wind swept past me, leaving strangely brilliant trails in the darkness. I opened my eyes to find the darkness of the summer night a few degrees deeper than it had been.
I twisted open the lid of the jar and took the firefly out, setting it on the two-inch lid of the water tank. It seemed not to grasp its new surroundings. It hobbled around the head of a steel bolt, catching its' legs on curling scales of paint. it moved to the right until it found its way blocked, then circled back to the left. Finally, with some effort, it mounted the head of the bolt and crouched there for a while, unmoving, as if it had taken its last breath.
Still leaning against the handrail, I studied the firefly. Neither I nor it made a move for a very long time. The wind continued sweeping past the two of us while the numberles leaves of the zelkova tree rustled in the darkness.
I waited forever.
only much later did the firefly take to the air. As if some thought had suddenly come to it, the firefly spread its wings, and in a moment it had flown past the handrail to float in the pale darkness. It traced a swift arc by the side of the water tank as if trying to bring back a lost interval in time. And then, after hovering there for a few seconds as if to watch its curved line of light blend into the wind, it finally flew off to the east.
Long after the firefly had disappeared, the trail of its light remained inside me, its pale, faint glow hovering on and on in the thick darkness behind my eyelids like a lost soul.
More than once I tried stretching my hand out in that darkness. My fingers touched nothing. The faint glow remained, just beyond their grasp.
(taken from)
***
beautiful prose, written by another, perks the tired me up. or rather, I have not much of a basis to claim to be tired since all I have been doing was to load my kids with work and take off to a semi-haunted school, refurbished with a new airconditioning system and listen to balding old men with a warped sense of humour who makes tired civil servants laugh, watch heads nod off in front of me, beside me, around me, and later playing the roles of blind people, wheelchair bound people, the illiterate. simulacra. reminding me of white noise, which I hated.
***
back to school tomorrow with compositions sitting on my table, remediation worksheets, the need to plan, and the prospects of a long contact time, and 4 periods with me dashing off to 4 different class. in full swing. midweek.
***
I twisted open the lid of the jar and took the firefly out, setting it on the two-inch lid of the water tank. It seemed not to grasp its new surroundings. It hobbled around the head of a steel bolt, catching its' legs on curling scales of paint. it moved to the right until it found its way blocked, then circled back to the left. Finally, with some effort, it mounted the head of the bolt and crouched there for a while, unmoving, as if it had taken its last breath.
Still leaning against the handrail, I studied the firefly. Neither I nor it made a move for a very long time. The wind continued sweeping past the two of us while the numberles leaves of the zelkova tree rustled in the darkness.
I waited forever.
only much later did the firefly take to the air. As if some thought had suddenly come to it, the firefly spread its wings, and in a moment it had flown past the handrail to float in the pale darkness. It traced a swift arc by the side of the water tank as if trying to bring back a lost interval in time. And then, after hovering there for a few seconds as if to watch its curved line of light blend into the wind, it finally flew off to the east.
Long after the firefly had disappeared, the trail of its light remained inside me, its pale, faint glow hovering on and on in the thick darkness behind my eyelids like a lost soul.
More than once I tried stretching my hand out in that darkness. My fingers touched nothing. The faint glow remained, just beyond their grasp.
(taken from)
***
beautiful prose, written by another, perks the tired me up. or rather, I have not much of a basis to claim to be tired since all I have been doing was to load my kids with work and take off to a semi-haunted school, refurbished with a new airconditioning system and listen to balding old men with a warped sense of humour who makes tired civil servants laugh, watch heads nod off in front of me, beside me, around me, and later playing the roles of blind people, wheelchair bound people, the illiterate. simulacra. reminding me of white noise, which I hated.
***
back to school tomorrow with compositions sitting on my table, remediation worksheets, the need to plan, and the prospects of a long contact time, and 4 periods with me dashing off to 4 different class. in full swing. midweek.
***
Monday, July 18, 2005
today in school
i sit outside the mobile toilets which remind me of the stinky poo-filled mobile toilets at the NDP rehearsal and look at the math TB, in preparation for the 4 periods ahead.
3 primary one girls skip by, singing, "wo ai ni, ai zhe ni" and giggle.
the contractor consigned to do some works in the school sings behind them, "jiu xiang lao shu ai da mi".
we all catch one another's eyes and laugh.
3 primary one girls skip by, singing, "wo ai ni, ai zhe ni" and giggle.
the contractor consigned to do some works in the school sings behind them, "jiu xiang lao shu ai da mi".
we all catch one another's eyes and laugh.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Chuo Line
I straightened up and looked out of the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North sky, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.
Eighteen years have gone by, and still I can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. Washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, briliant green. The October breeze set white fronds of head-tail grasses swaying. One long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. It almost hurt to look at that far-off sky. A puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking- a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. We heard no other sounds. We met no ohter people. We saw only two bright, red birds leap startled from the centre of the meadow and dart into the woods.
Even so, my memory has grown increasingly distant, and I have already forgotten any number of things. Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I've forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?
Naoko and I saw each other exactly once after Kizuki's funeral. Two weeks after the event, we met at a coffee house to take care of some minor mattter, and when that was finished we had nothing more to say. I tried raising several different topics, but none of them led anywhere. And when Naoko did talk, there was a certain edge to her voice. She seemed angry with me, but I had no idea why. We never saw each other again until that day we happened to meet on the Chuo Line in Tokyo a year later.
*** (Disclaimer: not self-written, copied, taken from somewhere)
I am unexpectedly reminded of the Moonriver cafe on a Wednesday afternoon when I sit alone at the table in the cafe next to the see through window and an old man comes an sits next to me and asks if the homestyle fish is nice and i tell him that it is. he is a regular at the cafe for the staff knows him and he, them, and they are surprised that he does not go for the curry that day.
Eighteen years have gone by, and still I can bring back every detail of that day in the meadow. Washed clean of summer's dust by days of gentle rain, the mountains wore a deep, briliant green. The October breeze set white fronds of head-tail grasses swaying. One long streak of cloud hung pasted across a dome of frozen blue. It almost hurt to look at that far-off sky. A puff of wind swept across the meadow and through her hair before it slipped into the woods to rustle branches and send back snatches of distant barking- a hazy sound that seemed to reach us from the doorway to another world. We heard no other sounds. We met no ohter people. We saw only two bright, red birds leap startled from the centre of the meadow and dart into the woods.
Even so, my memory has grown increasingly distant, and I have already forgotten any number of things. Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I've forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?
Naoko and I saw each other exactly once after Kizuki's funeral. Two weeks after the event, we met at a coffee house to take care of some minor mattter, and when that was finished we had nothing more to say. I tried raising several different topics, but none of them led anywhere. And when Naoko did talk, there was a certain edge to her voice. She seemed angry with me, but I had no idea why. We never saw each other again until that day we happened to meet on the Chuo Line in Tokyo a year later.
*** (Disclaimer: not self-written, copied, taken from somewhere)
I am unexpectedly reminded of the Moonriver cafe on a Wednesday afternoon when I sit alone at the table in the cafe next to the see through window and an old man comes an sits next to me and asks if the homestyle fish is nice and i tell him that it is. he is a regular at the cafe for the staff knows him and he, them, and they are surprised that he does not go for the curry that day.
Friday, July 15, 2005
the Sf 65
i think this phone is in.
Siemens today unveiled the SF65 clamshell style mobile phone with a 1.3 megapixel camera, flash and four times zoom. The swivel style top end has a 16-bit internal colour display with a resolution of 128 x 160 pixels, and on the flip side the camera lens.
The SF65 will support any dual-band GSM 900/1800MHz network, GPRS Class 10 and IRDA. SMS, EMS, MMS and POP3 are all feasible. Some advanced picture editing features are included, around 18 MB of images can be stored on the internal drive.
See press release below
Siemens SF65: The new clamshell phone with swivel action screen and 1.3 mega pixel digital camera
SF65
Copenhagen -- Today at the Danish Design Centre, Copenhagen , the mobile communication group at Siemens, Siemens mobile, launches the SF65 – a quality clamshell handset and the latest addition to Siemens portfolio of high-end mobile phones. Taking picture messaging to a new level, the SF65 has a state-of-the art SXGA 1.3 mega pixel camera with integrated LED flash, 4x continuous digital zoom and a 65,000 color TFT display. Coupled with the latest mobile features, this innovative handset brings together the best of the photographic and mobile world in a striking and compact package.
Aiding the metamorphosis from phone to camera, the SF65 uses a simple swivel action to transform from an elegant mobile phone to a digital still camera. Its integrated LED flash and 4x continuous zoom allows the digital camera to be used day or night and capture images with increased detail and clarity. The SF65 has been designed with dedicated cam era and zoom keys at the top and bottom of the display to provide a shortcut to the camera function and make it instinctive and easy to use. Images captured with the SXGA 1.3 mega pixel camera are displayed on TFT 128x160 screen in 65,000 vibrant colors so that memories stay as sharp as the moment. With an extended range of camera features and photo editing tools, the SF65 combines the quality and flexibility of a professional digital still camera with the convenience and spontaneity of a mobile phone.
Designed to look and feel like both a digital camera as well as a mobile phone, this compact clamshell has a contemporary and paired-down design that has a high quality finish in ‘Polar White’.
Thorsten Heins, President of the Mobile Phones division within Siemens mobile, explained: “With the SF65, we’ve brought together the best of the mobile communication and photographic world to produce a handset which looks, acts and feels just like a digital camera. Its launch also means we add a premium clamshell handset to our portfolio and further extend our range of high-end devices, all of which now have the signature design and finesse consumers associate with Siemens mobile.”
Weighing just 97g, with a volume of 85cm³ and dimensions of 91 x 44 x 23mm, the SF65 is small, light and practical. The 64-chord polyphonic ringer melodies with wave table modulation ensure quality sound performance. Supported by 18 MB of free user memory and with photo editor functionality, images can be saved in an album and enhanced to create perfect individual photographs. Flexibility is key with varying image storage options, from 55 images in SXVGA quality (320 Kb), to 300 images in VGA format (60 Kb) and 900 as Wallpaper (20 Kb). With a talk time of four hours and 400 hours standby time on the battery, SF65 users can stay snap-happy. Java based games and applications complete the package.
The SF65 is available with a range of Siemens Original Accessories for extra convenience : a variety of headsets including the elaborately designed Headset Purestyle with increased wearing comfort, a range of chargers, a spare battery, a data cable and a flexible Car Kit Portable. A practical Tour Case completes the product portfolio.
Siemens today unveiled the SF65 clamshell style mobile phone with a 1.3 megapixel camera, flash and four times zoom. The swivel style top end has a 16-bit internal colour display with a resolution of 128 x 160 pixels, and on the flip side the camera lens.
The SF65 will support any dual-band GSM 900/1800MHz network, GPRS Class 10 and IRDA. SMS, EMS, MMS and POP3 are all feasible. Some advanced picture editing features are included, around 18 MB of images can be stored on the internal drive.
See press release below
Siemens SF65: The new clamshell phone with swivel action screen and 1.3 mega pixel digital camera
SF65
Copenhagen -- Today at the Danish Design Centre, Copenhagen , the mobile communication group at Siemens, Siemens mobile, launches the SF65 – a quality clamshell handset and the latest addition to Siemens portfolio of high-end mobile phones. Taking picture messaging to a new level, the SF65 has a state-of-the art SXGA 1.3 mega pixel camera with integrated LED flash, 4x continuous digital zoom and a 65,000 color TFT display. Coupled with the latest mobile features, this innovative handset brings together the best of the photographic and mobile world in a striking and compact package.
Aiding the metamorphosis from phone to camera, the SF65 uses a simple swivel action to transform from an elegant mobile phone to a digital still camera. Its integrated LED flash and 4x continuous zoom allows the digital camera to be used day or night and capture images with increased detail and clarity. The SF65 has been designed with dedicated cam era and zoom keys at the top and bottom of the display to provide a shortcut to the camera function and make it instinctive and easy to use. Images captured with the SXGA 1.3 mega pixel camera are displayed on TFT 128x160 screen in 65,000 vibrant colors so that memories stay as sharp as the moment. With an extended range of camera features and photo editing tools, the SF65 combines the quality and flexibility of a professional digital still camera with the convenience and spontaneity of a mobile phone.
Designed to look and feel like both a digital camera as well as a mobile phone, this compact clamshell has a contemporary and paired-down design that has a high quality finish in ‘Polar White’.
Thorsten Heins, President of the Mobile Phones division within Siemens mobile, explained: “With the SF65, we’ve brought together the best of the mobile communication and photographic world to produce a handset which looks, acts and feels just like a digital camera. Its launch also means we add a premium clamshell handset to our portfolio and further extend our range of high-end devices, all of which now have the signature design and finesse consumers associate with Siemens mobile.”
Weighing just 97g, with a volume of 85cm³ and dimensions of 91 x 44 x 23mm, the SF65 is small, light and practical. The 64-chord polyphonic ringer melodies with wave table modulation ensure quality sound performance. Supported by 18 MB of free user memory and with photo editor functionality, images can be saved in an album and enhanced to create perfect individual photographs. Flexibility is key with varying image storage options, from 55 images in SXVGA quality (320 Kb), to 300 images in VGA format (60 Kb) and 900 as Wallpaper (20 Kb). With a talk time of four hours and 400 hours standby time on the battery, SF65 users can stay snap-happy. Java based games and applications complete the package.
The SF65 is available with a range of Siemens Original Accessories for extra convenience : a variety of headsets including the elaborately designed Headset Purestyle with increased wearing comfort, a range of chargers, a spare battery, a data cable and a flexible Car Kit Portable. A practical Tour Case completes the product portfolio.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
a month ago
a month ago i trimmed my hair at kimage, marina square, dropped by price breakers and bought a copy of elle magazine, which i haven't touched since i came back. back from?
snatches of the day i remember are wearing a blue top and thinking that i don't look very much different. 3/4 pants because i couldn't be bothered and because i thought my shoes alone would help me look less sloppy.
fast forward akin to using the tape recorder and watching the television images of your favourite show going in fast motion, lines blurring the images and people moving in unnaturally quick waves, mouths gaping open and closing as if they were goldfish and not humans and then we cease.
fast forward and we have all graduated as if we had just entered yesterday. no tears of joy, no nostalgic reminscences as if we wish yesterday was here once more, for routine blurs the beauty of an exceptional journey out. the last journey out.
and i'm never going back in a long time, no more rushing around, the combinations to the lockers may be forgotten, shelved in some forgotten corner of the mind unless implicature reminds me of a touch, a far-away touch and then memory reaches out to another memory as the leaves of different trees planted nearby one another interlock, touch, sway together in the wind on a bright blue day.
snatches.
i came back and packed, one bag inside another, too tired to sleep, mind moving too quickly it was impossible to think of sleep.
are you back from japan? and do you still read this?
the macdonalds with the lacquered floor that almost made me trip. the cheap cheeseburger that i finished quickly and the book entitled "my lover's lover". sitting alone in the lounge and seeing people alone like myself watch me warily and wonder along the very same line- why are we all alone?
an old man with little hair who falls asleep as the plane speeds along the runway. the empty seat between us that we both piled our newspapers and magazines in a strange mutual consent that was never verbal. reading the papers cover to cover. children behind.
along this meandering path of meaningless words, i find it hard to believe whether it has been a month or whether it has been only a month.
snatches of the day i remember are wearing a blue top and thinking that i don't look very much different. 3/4 pants because i couldn't be bothered and because i thought my shoes alone would help me look less sloppy.
fast forward akin to using the tape recorder and watching the television images of your favourite show going in fast motion, lines blurring the images and people moving in unnaturally quick waves, mouths gaping open and closing as if they were goldfish and not humans and then we cease.
fast forward and we have all graduated as if we had just entered yesterday. no tears of joy, no nostalgic reminscences as if we wish yesterday was here once more, for routine blurs the beauty of an exceptional journey out. the last journey out.
and i'm never going back in a long time, no more rushing around, the combinations to the lockers may be forgotten, shelved in some forgotten corner of the mind unless implicature reminds me of a touch, a far-away touch and then memory reaches out to another memory as the leaves of different trees planted nearby one another interlock, touch, sway together in the wind on a bright blue day.
snatches.
i came back and packed, one bag inside another, too tired to sleep, mind moving too quickly it was impossible to think of sleep.
are you back from japan? and do you still read this?
the macdonalds with the lacquered floor that almost made me trip. the cheap cheeseburger that i finished quickly and the book entitled "my lover's lover". sitting alone in the lounge and seeing people alone like myself watch me warily and wonder along the very same line- why are we all alone?
an old man with little hair who falls asleep as the plane speeds along the runway. the empty seat between us that we both piled our newspapers and magazines in a strange mutual consent that was never verbal. reading the papers cover to cover. children behind.
along this meandering path of meaningless words, i find it hard to believe whether it has been a month or whether it has been only a month.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
i dreamt a dream
about the past.
walking around and deciding what to eat, perhaps an invasion of my p4 IPW which will be headache today and has me thinking about salads from cartel, swensens and blah. i couldn't hear what you said and since you've repeated it twice i walk around endlessly until the queue at the counter snakes out of the cafe and i have to join it at the back and i still have no idea what to eat. i return to the table hoping for a clue and you are not there, your chicken half eaten and messy on a huge plate, so huge that it tells me that everything is but a dream. i think of buying ribs and i ask A where you have gone. no idea. i want to buy ribs.
the scene changes and i see lots of freckles on you. huge brown freckles litter your back and your face. you have grown old, the skin not as soft and elastic as before, inching towards a leathery profile and the hair, once radiant and light is now heavy and flecked slightly in grey. your dressing has changed, you now are in some drab top. the pores on the face enlarged, the face drained of youth.
everything was the same.
walking around and deciding what to eat, perhaps an invasion of my p4 IPW which will be headache today and has me thinking about salads from cartel, swensens and blah. i couldn't hear what you said and since you've repeated it twice i walk around endlessly until the queue at the counter snakes out of the cafe and i have to join it at the back and i still have no idea what to eat. i return to the table hoping for a clue and you are not there, your chicken half eaten and messy on a huge plate, so huge that it tells me that everything is but a dream. i think of buying ribs and i ask A where you have gone. no idea. i want to buy ribs.
the scene changes and i see lots of freckles on you. huge brown freckles litter your back and your face. you have grown old, the skin not as soft and elastic as before, inching towards a leathery profile and the hair, once radiant and light is now heavy and flecked slightly in grey. your dressing has changed, you now are in some drab top. the pores on the face enlarged, the face drained of youth.
everything was the same.
dumdum
some people disgust me.
like, totally.
those who are uncooperative, uncivilised and are simply empty vessels with no brains.
like, totally.
those who are uncooperative, uncivilised and are simply empty vessels with no brains.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
robots
"She peered into the mirror. Tonight she would wear long earrings of pink Lucite. She would put her lenses back in and use a lipstick that didn't clash with the Lucite, and that would be that. Seen from a certain angle, she might simply disappear"
Speaking about love, Linda says, "I believe it to be the central drama of our lives. For most of us, that is.... It's something extraordinary that happens to ordinary people."
''A pink mouth, neither smiling nor frowning (though the head was tilted warily or fetchingly -- it was hard to tell).''
''She admired a negligee and remembered nights with other negligees, and still the sadness, that cloud, was not swept away.''
***
Back to the real world, back to the real world
Back to the ground
***
after graduation, that is. remnants of graduation are my kids waving goodbye to me during their recess period as i rush out of school, going for a late lunch first and then arriving at NTU. dressing yourself out, white shirt, check hair, check appearance. check that the pink slip that you wear over the gown isn't out of place. pin it down. take some photographs. take more photographs. get chased into the auditorium by some guy. fidget. look for seat. realise that not many people are in yet and wonder where the others are. walk around in order not to be the only blip in a sea of red seats. get seated when people gush in. watch a boring video where many strangely similar looking people get interviewed over and over again, waving mechanically at the video camera as if they've been cued to do so- obviously. watch girls with cute smiles make the victory sign against their faces and try not to puke especially if the one girl is sitting next to you. wait and re-look at the white slip of paper that has your name printed on it. listen to funfare music and watch professors and doctors with gowns of all colours and hats of all sizes enter. listen to speeches. doze off. wake up to the sound of clapping. names resonate and none make sense. people look like mechanical robots programmed to go on stage at each call of any name. mechanical clapping fills the air. wonders who is the one who does all the clapping or it is canned clapping, akin to canned laughter? muses. stand, rise walk. the aim is the X on the stage. reach, wait. name called out. oh dannggit, it seems quite a distance. adjust speed of walking. shakes hands. thank you. -smiles- walk down. sit again. twiddle thumbs. and the list goes on. the food was horrible, like the work my p4 class gave me today. horrible.
so graduation is not quite like what it's cracked out to be, really.
but now, the final visit to NTU is over and we all wonder what is next. just work i suppose, and nothing much.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
out of my head
i hate the way that perfect 10 always plays the song "out of my head" by fastball halfway before the news or some stupid commercial as if it's some insignificant song to be slotted in to take up some exact frame of time before the allocated time for commercials or news.
today was a good day, it rained and i slept facing the wall, hearing thunder and lightning seep through the walls to the cosy cocoon that i was in.
school starts tomorrow again as usual and this time it's a five day week, full steam ahead till the next holiday in august- national day.
i'm going to upload more photos of the parachutists.
early to school again for marking. notes to self: 1. mental sums 2. science worksheet 3. grammar 4. sort out things to return 5. young scientist cards.
and things to do now: weekly plan (social studies, library, art) prepare for tomorrow - create questions for quiz.
-__-
today was a good day, it rained and i slept facing the wall, hearing thunder and lightning seep through the walls to the cosy cocoon that i was in.
school starts tomorrow again as usual and this time it's a five day week, full steam ahead till the next holiday in august- national day.
i'm going to upload more photos of the parachutists.
early to school again for marking. notes to self: 1. mental sums 2. science worksheet 3. grammar 4. sort out things to return 5. young scientist cards.
and things to do now: weekly plan (social studies, library, art) prepare for tomorrow - create questions for quiz.
-__-
Saturday, July 09, 2005
the ne show
the single thing that i felt during the show was something close to horror as i watched a red lion (commando) fall hard against the ground, the body bent at an unnatural angle, crashing, tumbling, hard.
they first appeared as dots, white and tiny in the sky, billowing puffs of white smoke that turned slightly red as they came nearer to the ground.
and then they came closer to us.
a lone parachutist drifts to the ground.
this is the injured parachutist, IIRC. he was already not on course and appeared to be coming down almost horizontal to the ground.
they first appeared as dots, white and tiny in the sky, billowing puffs of white smoke that turned slightly red as they came nearer to the ground.
and then they came closer to us.
a lone parachutist drifts to the ground.
this is the injured parachutist, IIRC. he was already not on course and appeared to be coming down almost horizontal to the ground.
Friday, July 08, 2005
black afterspots
the feel of the soft pillow against skin as "losing my religion" plays in the background, gregorian chant style. black spots appear, the result of having the eyes closed for too long, thinking angry thoughts, looking back at the past, feeling all the walls crumble.
and suddenly, it feels as though i were in secondary school once more and, ironically, like an onion, trying to have all the folds and layers of protection over the centre. so the folds build up in time, but today, for a certain time and space, it feels as though all the layers are stripped bare, the onion's centre revealed, the rest ready for cooking. or maybe not.
close your eyes. you will feel disoriented. sight helps us to see, to gain a perspective on ourselves, on space and time.
stand on one leg. put the other against your inner thigh of the leg you are balancing on. make sure you balance, then close your eyes. you will probably fall.
why?
for the same reason. eyes are important and give us a perspective to life.
so my eyes today, closed against bright flourescent light, were new to light when they reopened again at the end of a song. it was a long lost feeling, mostly associated with childhood, with lying in bed and not sleeping, with the lights on when i was too afraid of the dark.
but i don't understand why i'm digressing.
and suddenly, it feels as though i were in secondary school once more and, ironically, like an onion, trying to have all the folds and layers of protection over the centre. so the folds build up in time, but today, for a certain time and space, it feels as though all the layers are stripped bare, the onion's centre revealed, the rest ready for cooking. or maybe not.
close your eyes. you will feel disoriented. sight helps us to see, to gain a perspective on ourselves, on space and time.
stand on one leg. put the other against your inner thigh of the leg you are balancing on. make sure you balance, then close your eyes. you will probably fall.
why?
for the same reason. eyes are important and give us a perspective to life.
so my eyes today, closed against bright flourescent light, were new to light when they reopened again at the end of a song. it was a long lost feeling, mostly associated with childhood, with lying in bed and not sleeping, with the lights on when i was too afraid of the dark.
but i don't understand why i'm digressing.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
8 . a. m
8am and i'm up again. i brought work back yesterday. dang. have to mark the science practical tests today before the standardisation of the answer key and the vetting and all that, which means- i get to go to school early again!
it is amazing how a bunch of bright 10 year olds can come up with a variety of ways to answer posed questions, even ignoring the important words like draw an arrow and label the picture-minus one mark, giving me all sorts of correct differences between specimen a and b when they're asked to provide one based on OBSERVATIONS, so minus away all the marks. sigh.
NE show tomorrow :( at least i get to see fireworks. i think.
this is so work/school related so while i'm at it: books to mark - journals, dictation, social studies, grammar worksheets?
bah.
it is amazing how a bunch of bright 10 year olds can come up with a variety of ways to answer posed questions, even ignoring the important words like draw an arrow and label the picture-minus one mark, giving me all sorts of correct differences between specimen a and b when they're asked to provide one based on OBSERVATIONS, so minus away all the marks. sigh.
NE show tomorrow :( at least i get to see fireworks. i think.
this is so work/school related so while i'm at it: books to mark - journals, dictation, social studies, grammar worksheets?
bah.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
from the fight club
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact.
food for thought.
***
remedial tomorrow, which means it's a total of 3 days already from 9-7 in school. pretty long day and i'm rather drained today. throat is sore, presumbly from all the junk food that has piled kilos around my rapidly expanding waist which has made it slightly impossible to fit into my pin striped pants today. maybe tomorrow then, since i only had an egg muffin for the entire day today before dinner.
people are mostly nice to me and today before the end of the day it was nice to talk to someone who seemed vaguely famliar in so many ways, yet different in so many ways, the smell of a dream that you've forgotten the smell of until you smell it again and know that it never really left you.
words reverberate in my head at times, repeating themselves endlessly and i imagine the words entering my ears as sound travelling in waves in air and passing as time passes, slipping across air molecules and hitting my eardrums deep inside as the words begin to register and first my brain recognises them as sound before recognising them as words, the sound that they make, every syllable echoing emptily in my head as pure sound alone before the brain takes over and begins to decipher the sounds as words and works out to find out the meaning behind sound.
as if sound ever had any meaning.
food for thought.
***
remedial tomorrow, which means it's a total of 3 days already from 9-7 in school. pretty long day and i'm rather drained today. throat is sore, presumbly from all the junk food that has piled kilos around my rapidly expanding waist which has made it slightly impossible to fit into my pin striped pants today. maybe tomorrow then, since i only had an egg muffin for the entire day today before dinner.
people are mostly nice to me and today before the end of the day it was nice to talk to someone who seemed vaguely famliar in so many ways, yet different in so many ways, the smell of a dream that you've forgotten the smell of until you smell it again and know that it never really left you.
words reverberate in my head at times, repeating themselves endlessly and i imagine the words entering my ears as sound travelling in waves in air and passing as time passes, slipping across air molecules and hitting my eardrums deep inside as the words begin to register and first my brain recognises them as sound before recognising them as words, the sound that they make, every syllable echoing emptily in my head as pure sound alone before the brain takes over and begins to decipher the sounds as words and works out to find out the meaning behind sound.
as if sound ever had any meaning.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
books in hotels
hmm. i didn't know the skin was such a dead giveaway, but anyway. *waves*
***
i've decided today that i bring no more work home. i'm in the afternoon session, so what i'll do from now on is leave school promoptly by 6:45pm and get home, bathe, watch the 7pm show that's halfway on and then do some planning/resouces (seldom) for the next day's class. and then watch the next 9pm show. and slack. and read. i want to read ishiguro's latest book.
and go back to school at 9am the next morning and enter the quiet airconditioned staff room once again and smell the smell of books and walk to my cubicle again and watch the familiar piles of books that have not changed overnight and realise that nothing has changed and the work still needs to be marked. and mark hysterically till 12.
now that the holidays are over, good books are piling up in the national library after having toured half the world in a stuffed and smelly suitcase, brought out in hotel rooms for the ocassional read and then being tossed around the clean, neat, white sheets as interest in the book gives way to the blaring tv and the appreciation of being halfway round the world in a hotel with all the ample, bare, usual necessitities like the jug with coffee cups in the tray in front of the mirror, returning two perfect images of the same jug and cups inside the mirror. and there you sit, in the white sheets, staring right back at yourself and smelling carpet in your nose.
the tony parsons book has been to genting, KL, taipei and malacca. and the travelling has taken its' toll on the new book.
so i have volleyball tomorrow morning and have to be in school by 9 and yes, it will be a long day once more. walk to the sports hall and sign the attendance list, bring social studies books to mark and spelling books and journals and it seems like my whole world rotates on its' own axis upon the returning of books, corrections, taking them back again and then the cycle goes on endlessly.
the life is busy and seems filled with things to do and in this way it never seems as though i'm missing out on anything. or am i? no time to ponder, no time to think. lookstraightandjustwalkonbecausethereareothersbehind.
***
i've decided today that i bring no more work home. i'm in the afternoon session, so what i'll do from now on is leave school promoptly by 6:45pm and get home, bathe, watch the 7pm show that's halfway on and then do some planning/resouces (seldom) for the next day's class. and then watch the next 9pm show. and slack. and read. i want to read ishiguro's latest book.
and go back to school at 9am the next morning and enter the quiet airconditioned staff room once again and smell the smell of books and walk to my cubicle again and watch the familiar piles of books that have not changed overnight and realise that nothing has changed and the work still needs to be marked. and mark hysterically till 12.
now that the holidays are over, good books are piling up in the national library after having toured half the world in a stuffed and smelly suitcase, brought out in hotel rooms for the ocassional read and then being tossed around the clean, neat, white sheets as interest in the book gives way to the blaring tv and the appreciation of being halfway round the world in a hotel with all the ample, bare, usual necessitities like the jug with coffee cups in the tray in front of the mirror, returning two perfect images of the same jug and cups inside the mirror. and there you sit, in the white sheets, staring right back at yourself and smelling carpet in your nose.
the tony parsons book has been to genting, KL, taipei and malacca. and the travelling has taken its' toll on the new book.
so i have volleyball tomorrow morning and have to be in school by 9 and yes, it will be a long day once more. walk to the sports hall and sign the attendance list, bring social studies books to mark and spelling books and journals and it seems like my whole world rotates on its' own axis upon the returning of books, corrections, taking them back again and then the cycle goes on endlessly.
the life is busy and seems filled with things to do and in this way it never seems as though i'm missing out on anything. or am i? no time to ponder, no time to think. lookstraightandjustwalkonbecausethereareothersbehind.
Monday, July 04, 2005
ride with me
the break's been good, but it's over all too soon, as usual and now it's back to slog for 4 days before the next weekend and even then i'll only have 1 day off since saturday will be burnt for NE show.
watched snatches of TV today and have to be at school bright and early tomorrow.
the snatches of tv made a bit of sense in saying that we all too often have everything but really own nothing. and that seems to be something worth remembering in this mad, mad world.
watched snatches of TV today and have to be at school bright and early tomorrow.
the snatches of tv made a bit of sense in saying that we all too often have everything but really own nothing. and that seems to be something worth remembering in this mad, mad world.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
saturday night.
a long but slow weekend and i hope it stays that way.
♥ i rather like this new blogskin.
credits really go to feine of CC. thanks :)
i was tinkering around with it and layering it in-between doing my weekly plan which is always a drag. i aim to finish everything by tonight.
♥ i rather like this new blogskin.
credits really go to feine of CC. thanks :)
i was tinkering around with it and layering it in-between doing my weekly plan which is always a drag. i aim to finish everything by tonight.
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