Dear Joyce,
Thank you for sending me these sample pages of WHEN THE LILIES TURN ORANGE. I shared this with a colleague, and while we both really liked your characters and enjoyed the backdrop of the flower shop, we felt that it took too long for the story to really get started. I wanted to know, earlier, what the mystery about Connell was (or at least to get more significant clues).
So, please think of us with your future work. And best of luck finding the right home for this one.
Warmest,
Kelly
Kelly D. Sonnack
Andrea Brown Literary Agency
kelly@andreabrownlit.com
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Just got back from school. It was a long day today. My first lecture started at 2pm (and the last would end at 6pm), so I woke up, went for my swim, had some fruits at home before I took 147 to school. I figured I'd go there earlier and explore the school a little, and also to buy my course packs. And since I had so much time prior to my lectures, I decided to try the bus and see how long it would take. My estimation wasn't far off: the 147 journey took an hour, while the 95 one took about 20 minutes. Of course, the bus journey takes longer than the train one.
So, moving on from dry topics such as journeys, I got off at the Central Library and visited the bookstore. There was some kind of event going on, and leaflets were thrust at me. I finally emerged from the mire and slipped into the bookstore. They sell textbooks - of course - and (gasp!) chick-lit fiction novels, NUS paraphernalia such as the stuffed teddy bear (some kind of mascot, I suppose), notepads, sweatshirts, t-shirts, files, keychains, notebooks, etc, all emblazoned with the letters NUS in the school colours (orange and blue), and even car decals.
Later, I got my course-packs at the booth right outside the bookstore, and I must say, for how big the school is, it's very well-run, no chaos like at SA, where the queues were always long and there was general confusion in getting the reading packages. I got my NM1101E (Communications, New Media and Society) and SC2210 (Sociology of Pop Culture) packages, the latter twice as thick as the former, probably because it's level-2000 and therefore heavier.
So, that done, I tried to take the shortcut from the library to FASS, as I'd drawn out on my copy of the school map. But I guess I'm a walking stereotype of females. My map-reading skills are sorely lacking, and I couldn't make any sense of where I was going. Plus, I didn't have the sense to look up at the signposts for help. So I ended up walking to the Business Faculty (it's next to FASS, but along the road), and ended up at Kent Ridge Residences (one of the student dormitories). I could see the main road, for crying out loud. So I figured it would be best if I asked for directions. Thankfully, a senior pointed me in the right direction. Thank you, seniors, for aiding us freshies in our navigation around the vast and overwhelming world of varsity campus.
It was a looooooooooong trek up a slope to FASS, where I had to first pass by AlumNUS. By the time I reached The Deck (the foodcourt of FASS), I was sweating galleons and panting like I had just scaled one of those Himalayan mountains. (It certainly felt like it.) My hair was a mess, sticking to my neck due to my perspiration, and sticking out as well. Compounding that to a very flushed face, I must have looked a fright. Which is really too bad, because some of the guys who looked at me (and promptly turned away to shudder in fright, I'm sure) were cute. NUS is full of cute guys - guys just fresh out of NS and therefore still have The Body - and that's a fact.
Okay, so as for the lectures, my first lecture of the day, GEM1004 (Reason & Persuasion), was taught by Professor John Holbo, and he's an interesting orator, which made the lecture endurable, considering the fact that it was on Philosophy. He's sort of humorous, and was able to distill/condense the ideas and theories in a simpler manner. That said, Philosophy still seems rather meaningless to me, since all it does is ask questions in circles and not coming up with a concrete answer. Despite how good a lecturer Prof Holbo is, this is one lecture that I'm not quite looking forward to next week. Maybe it'll be better after I've read the textbook, which - get this - was written by Prof Holbo himself. How cool is that. Also, on a sidenote, I managed to talk to two girls in the lecture today, which took the boredom off slightly.
My second and last lecture of the day was Sociology of Pop Culture. Sounds fun, right? But it's level-2000, which makes it tougher for a freshie like me to handle. The good thing, though, is that there are no group projects and presentations ("No point having those when no-one listens to them anyway, right?" Dr Liew said, to which many of us sniggered). Instead, we have to submit 2 essays (one 500-800 word piece, which takes up 10% of our final grade, and another 2000-2500 word one, which takes up 20% - the remaining 60% comes from exams and the final 10% comes from class participation). Which is fine by me. Group projects are often a chore, anyway, unless, of course, I have a cute group-mate (although I wouldn't mind if that were in the plural form).
Thus ends my first week in NUS. Here's to fun lectures and not getting lost anymore.
So, moving on from dry topics such as journeys, I got off at the Central Library and visited the bookstore. There was some kind of event going on, and leaflets were thrust at me. I finally emerged from the mire and slipped into the bookstore. They sell textbooks - of course - and (gasp!) chick-lit fiction novels, NUS paraphernalia such as the stuffed teddy bear (some kind of mascot, I suppose), notepads, sweatshirts, t-shirts, files, keychains, notebooks, etc, all emblazoned with the letters NUS in the school colours (orange and blue), and even car decals.
Later, I got my course-packs at the booth right outside the bookstore, and I must say, for how big the school is, it's very well-run, no chaos like at SA, where the queues were always long and there was general confusion in getting the reading packages. I got my NM1101E (Communications, New Media and Society) and SC2210 (Sociology of Pop Culture) packages, the latter twice as thick as the former, probably because it's level-2000 and therefore heavier.
So, that done, I tried to take the shortcut from the library to FASS, as I'd drawn out on my copy of the school map. But I guess I'm a walking stereotype of females. My map-reading skills are sorely lacking, and I couldn't make any sense of where I was going. Plus, I didn't have the sense to look up at the signposts for help. So I ended up walking to the Business Faculty (it's next to FASS, but along the road), and ended up at Kent Ridge Residences (one of the student dormitories). I could see the main road, for crying out loud. So I figured it would be best if I asked for directions. Thankfully, a senior pointed me in the right direction. Thank you, seniors, for aiding us freshies in our navigation around the vast and overwhelming world of varsity campus.
It was a looooooooooong trek up a slope to FASS, where I had to first pass by AlumNUS. By the time I reached The Deck (the foodcourt of FASS), I was sweating galleons and panting like I had just scaled one of those Himalayan mountains. (It certainly felt like it.) My hair was a mess, sticking to my neck due to my perspiration, and sticking out as well. Compounding that to a very flushed face, I must have looked a fright. Which is really too bad, because some of the guys who looked at me (and promptly turned away to shudder in fright, I'm sure) were cute. NUS is full of cute guys - guys just fresh out of NS and therefore still have The Body - and that's a fact.
Okay, so as for the lectures, my first lecture of the day, GEM1004 (Reason & Persuasion), was taught by Professor John Holbo, and he's an interesting orator, which made the lecture endurable, considering the fact that it was on Philosophy. He's sort of humorous, and was able to distill/condense the ideas and theories in a simpler manner. That said, Philosophy still seems rather meaningless to me, since all it does is ask questions in circles and not coming up with a concrete answer. Despite how good a lecturer Prof Holbo is, this is one lecture that I'm not quite looking forward to next week. Maybe it'll be better after I've read the textbook, which - get this - was written by Prof Holbo himself. How cool is that. Also, on a sidenote, I managed to talk to two girls in the lecture today, which took the boredom off slightly.
My second and last lecture of the day was Sociology of Pop Culture. Sounds fun, right? But it's level-2000, which makes it tougher for a freshie like me to handle. The good thing, though, is that there are no group projects and presentations ("No point having those when no-one listens to them anyway, right?" Dr Liew said, to which many of us sniggered). Instead, we have to submit 2 essays (one 500-800 word piece, which takes up 10% of our final grade, and another 2000-2500 word one, which takes up 20% - the remaining 60% comes from exams and the final 10% comes from class participation). Which is fine by me. Group projects are often a chore, anyway, unless, of course, I have a cute group-mate (although I wouldn't mind if that were in the plural form).
Thus ends my first week in NUS. Here's to fun lectures and not getting lost anymore.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Due to a request to post up my mypaper NDP 09 essay, here it is:
My Most Memorable National Day
At the age of ten, I had no concept of what National Day was about, much less why it called for such a major celebration every year. I just loved belting out Stand Up for Singapore with my entire class, red-shirted and with our arms around each other. But that year, it turned out, I was about to learn what a national identity was, and why everyone wanted to claim it.
I was still a wide-eyed child then, a bumbling primary school kid just eager to go on a field-trip with my friends. An entire day without school? Plus, excursion buses and clappers from the goodie bag? Sign me on.
So, blithely, my friends and I trawled through our goodie bags, had fun with the clappers and finished the food we brought within the first couple of hours we were there. There was the video montage of Singapore’s history, the arrival of the President’s motorcade that had all of us craning our necks for a better look, the impressively flawless military parade and flypast, and aesthetic performances that leapt to life with vibrancy and vivacity, a glorious display of colours and movement.
I was enraptured. But little did I know that the climax lay in the finale. By then, the skylight had dimmed. Twilight soon settled in. There was magic in the air that night. Everyone was on their feet as they sang a medley of national songs, boldly waving their miniature flags. Meanwhile, the first fireworks shot into the sky and burst into a starry shower of colours. Our voices were loud and our love strong.
My little heart was bursting with pride. I was honoured to have been there, to be Singaporean. Because it isn’t just about clappers or wearing a red shirt. It is about belonging.
My Most Memorable National Day
At the age of ten, I had no concept of what National Day was about, much less why it called for such a major celebration every year. I just loved belting out Stand Up for Singapore with my entire class, red-shirted and with our arms around each other. But that year, it turned out, I was about to learn what a national identity was, and why everyone wanted to claim it.
I was still a wide-eyed child then, a bumbling primary school kid just eager to go on a field-trip with my friends. An entire day without school? Plus, excursion buses and clappers from the goodie bag? Sign me on.
So, blithely, my friends and I trawled through our goodie bags, had fun with the clappers and finished the food we brought within the first couple of hours we were there. There was the video montage of Singapore’s history, the arrival of the President’s motorcade that had all of us craning our necks for a better look, the impressively flawless military parade and flypast, and aesthetic performances that leapt to life with vibrancy and vivacity, a glorious display of colours and movement.
I was enraptured. But little did I know that the climax lay in the finale. By then, the skylight had dimmed. Twilight soon settled in. There was magic in the air that night. Everyone was on their feet as they sang a medley of national songs, boldly waving their miniature flags. Meanwhile, the first fireworks shot into the sky and burst into a starry shower of colours. Our voices were loud and our love strong.
My little heart was bursting with pride. I was honoured to have been there, to be Singaporean. Because it isn’t just about clappers or wearing a red shirt. It is about belonging.
Today's lecture, Cultural Studies, is a lot more interesting than yesterday's. Partly due to the less dry topic, and partly due to the lecturers. They're a pair of Caucasians, except that one of them's American and the other's British. You can even tell by their dressing: the American lecturer (I shan't reveal the names on this blog) is in an untucked red plaid shirt and jeans, and the British one's in a tucked bluish-green shirt with floral prints, and jeans.
Okay, so I arrived about 20 minutes earlier today, since I was slightly late yesterday and so dad and I woke up earlier today. While waiting outside LT 12, this American (from Connecticut - yes, I eavesdropped, get off my case) plopped down on the table I was sitting at, next to a girl on her laptop. He was the geeky sort, the type whom girls would find easy to befriend. And he was relatively friendly, too, and receptive of Singapore.
So anyway, Charmaine took the same module I did, so at least I had someone to sit with during lecture. So, the lecturers tossed out interesting ideas and stuff to think about, in the midst of their banter. Something the American lecturer always says: "Any burning questions? Any answers? Everybody happy?" And everyone would nod or shake their head accordingly. He's a real funny guy, a live wire, intent on making everyone comfortable.
We skimmed through romance novels as a writing genre, questioned how it opens up feminist ideologies, and what it is about romance novels that make women go back to it every time despite the recurring plot. As is the case for superhero comics, like Superman. We then talked about the influence of superheroes on children, and its value as compared to Shakespeare, and the sort of stereotypes and morals it tries to instill. Really fun stuff. I'm totally looking forward to the next GEK1046 lecture.
Plus, the exam is open-book, because the lecturers don't believe in throwing us a bunch of information and then testing our memory. (I'm quoting verbatim here.) I think that's great. Not just because there's no memory work and stuff, but because look, I've been through 12 years of rigid memorising and regurgitation of information that I'm required to remember, and that I promptly forget right after the exam. This sort of curriculum would be a lot more productive, because for one thing, the topics are interesting (cultural hegemony, ideology and power, etc etc), so we'll all be motivated to do our own research and readings and won't drag our feet about it. And for another, making us memorise stuff like that doesn't make us learn. It should be a lively exchange of ideas, not just boring old imbibement of knowledge like in primary or secondary school or JC.
Okay, so I arrived about 20 minutes earlier today, since I was slightly late yesterday and so dad and I woke up earlier today. While waiting outside LT 12, this American (from Connecticut - yes, I eavesdropped, get off my case) plopped down on the table I was sitting at, next to a girl on her laptop. He was the geeky sort, the type whom girls would find easy to befriend. And he was relatively friendly, too, and receptive of Singapore.
So anyway, Charmaine took the same module I did, so at least I had someone to sit with during lecture. So, the lecturers tossed out interesting ideas and stuff to think about, in the midst of their banter. Something the American lecturer always says: "Any burning questions? Any answers? Everybody happy?" And everyone would nod or shake their head accordingly. He's a real funny guy, a live wire, intent on making everyone comfortable.
We skimmed through romance novels as a writing genre, questioned how it opens up feminist ideologies, and what it is about romance novels that make women go back to it every time despite the recurring plot. As is the case for superhero comics, like Superman. We then talked about the influence of superheroes on children, and its value as compared to Shakespeare, and the sort of stereotypes and morals it tries to instill. Really fun stuff. I'm totally looking forward to the next GEK1046 lecture.
Plus, the exam is open-book, because the lecturers don't believe in throwing us a bunch of information and then testing our memory. (I'm quoting verbatim here.) I think that's great. Not just because there's no memory work and stuff, but because look, I've been through 12 years of rigid memorising and regurgitation of information that I'm required to remember, and that I promptly forget right after the exam. This sort of curriculum would be a lot more productive, because for one thing, the topics are interesting (cultural hegemony, ideology and power, etc etc), so we'll all be motivated to do our own research and readings and won't drag our feet about it. And for another, making us memorise stuff like that doesn't make us learn. It should be a lively exchange of ideas, not just boring old imbibement of knowledge like in primary or secondary school or JC.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Cold Comforts
Watch how he goes
And sit
In cold, straight-backed chairs
That still smell
Of newly-varnished leather.
He surreptitiously
Checks his watch,
Sighs,
His feet tap, subdued,
On the carpet,
And his fingers buzz a beat of their own.
Time slips by.
Outside the room,
He hears
A jumble of words and beeps,
A white-collared Morse code.
He would learn it soon;
He wants
To be in on the secret.
Note his firm handshake,
Determined to impress.
It is the strong one-two
That he learnt
In etiquette school.
Later, he goes home
And kicks off his shoes,
Checks if it has lost its shine –
It hasn’t –
And retreats to his room.
Outside,
It is too noisy to think.
Outside,
They don’t understand
The Morse code.
All they hear
Are their angry sobs and petty screams.
They are weeping
For their lives
In ruin.
Watch how he goes
And sit
In cold, straight-backed chairs
That still smell
Of newly-varnished leather.
He surreptitiously
Checks his watch,
Sighs,
His feet tap, subdued,
On the carpet,
And his fingers buzz a beat of their own.
Time slips by.
Outside the room,
He hears
A jumble of words and beeps,
A white-collared Morse code.
He would learn it soon;
He wants
To be in on the secret.
Note his firm handshake,
Determined to impress.
It is the strong one-two
That he learnt
In etiquette school.
Later, he goes home
And kicks off his shoes,
Checks if it has lost its shine –
It hasn’t –
And retreats to his room.
Outside,
It is too noisy to think.
Outside,
They don’t understand
The Morse code.
All they hear
Are their angry sobs and petty screams.
They are weeping
For their lives
In ruin.
Lots to update today. That's the good news. The bad news is that Blogger has gone nuts. I can't upload pictures because the toolbar is gone. So for now, you're subjected to my wordy rambling.
1. My dad and I went to watch NDP 09 on Sunday! This year, it was held at Marina Bay, which, I must say, is a vast improvement from NDPs at the Stadium. It was next to the sea, so it was much more cooling and airy. They had nicer seats too, more spacious, and there was a nicer view of Shenton Way and Fullerton Hotel.
I wasn't expected to be wowed by the military display, to be honest. It all seems a little braggy, to showcase all your military might at one event. But now, at the hormonal age of 18, I find that army guys - and seamen, and pilots, and policemen, and practically any guy in a well-starched uniform - are hot. Artillery and ammunition don't hold my interest at all. The last time I watched it, I thought the parade was rather boring, because all they did was march around.
But, like I said, it was a lot more captivating this time around, maybe because I find that the uniforms look better on guys as I grow older (wink). All in all, it was an impressive display. And those boys are HOT. Wow, so that's where all the cute guys are hiding: in camp! All tanned and toned....
Moving on.
The spirit at Marina Bay was amazing. All through the Parade (and the one hour plus of waiting beforehand), I was close to tears and could cry at the drop of a hat. I just felt so proud to be there, to be Singaporean, amongst my own people, hearing pockets of conversation (littered with Singlish) around me. We were a sea of red, displaying national pride, rooting through our funpacks and exclaiming, "Wah! Got Khong Guan biscuits! And NeWater!" Me? I had fun waving the flag and watching it ripple in the late afternoon breeze, while my dad went shutter-crazy.
They played some National Day clips made by students. You know, the one where the bunch of kids are supposed to create an art-piece about National Day, and this special little boy made a collage of a hand, which the teacher initially didn't understand, until she looked in the mirror and realised it was a fist over her heart. Yeah, along with that were others. One was where this NS boy was tearing parking coupons in the car with his dad.
"Time? 2.21."
"2.30," said his dad.
The boy points at the carpark attendance, upon which his father gets out of the car and squabbles with the 'auntie'. And then he launched into his rendition of the pledge with regard to the coupon-parking system. And let me tell you, 2700 people laughing is really infectious.
Another clip was where they asked kids what their aspirations were. There were the usual: lawyer, doctor, pilot, nurse, teacher, etc. And then this last boy was like, "When I grow up, I want to be the president of Singapore." And this bunch of aunties behind me went, "Wahhhh." I wonder how our leaders felt when they watched that. Hopeful? Assured?
Somehow, I teared up at that. Because it's promising, knowing how many youths out there love their country, and understand how much it has done for them. The country doesn't owe us a living, but it has given most of us Gen Y a comfortable life, thus far. It's just gratifying, knowing there are people my age out there who realise that, and know where their loyalties lie. And are proud of that. Like a journalist said in the Monday paper (Home section), patriotism is not uncool. Why should we be ashamed of what we root for? I love Singapore, and I'm not ashamed to proclaim it.
And watching those boys in the parade made me proud of them too, especially of those who constantly put their lives on the line to protect us, to protect our country, and the ones they love. They deserve our respect. Because they are driven to do that, why?
Following that was a clip of Singaporeans (students, etc) abroad, wishing Singapore a happy Independence Day. I teared up because they still call Singapore home. Those people who set their alarm clocks and woke up especially for the Pledge Moment, those people who picked up the phone so they could recite the pledge with their family at 8.22pm, those families that congregated on that day to place their hands over their hearts and meant what they said. They make me proud of them. Like they say, you can take the person out of Singapore, but you can never take the Singaporean out of the person. No point denying who we really are, Chinese, Singaporean... We are what we are, and nothing we do can change that; so we might as well embrace it. And be proud of our identity.
It was an honour being at NDP 09. I'd like to thank mypaper for giving me and my dad a chance to be there to celebrate our nation's 44 years of freedom, equality, justice and success. May Singapore continue to prosper in the years ahead, and be blessed with a non-corrupt, forward-looking government, as well as informed individuals who make the right decision in voting. Happy 44th Independence Day.
2. My entire family (well, apart from a few members, who were busy) came down on Saturday. And just looking at my cousin, Jasmine, made me feel bad about myself all over again. I think I've mentioned before how, since we were young, she's always been prettier and more outgoing than me, and all my aunts love her. She's in SMU now, taking a major in Accountancy. And she's just as pretty, just as confident, meshes just as well with my aunts, etc. I don't know why I'm bringing this up. Never mind. Moving on.
3. Went to the Bird Park with daddy on Monday, since there was this 1-for-1 promotion. I've always preferred the zoo to the Bird Park, if only because it is bigger, and offers more attractions. Birds are more boring than animals, in my humble opinion. The only ones worth seeing are the raptors and Birds of Paradise. And even then, they were all trapped in cages with grills so thick you can barely see anything. In the zoo, there are pumas and leopards and snakes and meerkats and tigers and HORSES! Lovely, graceful, beautiful, friendly horses. But it was still a good day, all in all. Dad and I later met his friend (they've been friends since secondary school) for steamboat dinner at Beach Road (YUM). And that concludes Monday.
4. Just came back from school. Lecture at 10 am, was slightly late for it, because a) jam in Orchard Rd, where my dad had to pass by on his way to work (he drops me off at Tiong Bahru Station, which is near his office at Havelock Rd), and b) I got off the bus at the wrong stop, and had to wait for the next bus. Thankfully, this senior directed me to LT 11, and when he found out I was a freshie, he said, 'Welcome to NUS.' Which was nice. Some seniors are lame enough to screw with you and direct you to the other end of where you're supposed to go.
So my very first lecture for this semester is Nature of Language, taught by this Japanese lecturer, Mie Hiramoto, who grew up in the city of Hiroshima, which explained why she was super-paranoid and went through the Civil Defence Emergency booklet with us for 15 minutes. Another half an hour was spent highlighting the bone of contention, punctuality. And another 15 minutes on administrative stuff, like grading, plagiarism, etc. We only began our lecture 1 hour later. It was all phonemes and morphemes. We skimmed through what we were about to learn. It is the first lecture of the semester, after all.
5. Went for my swim straight after I came back home. Saw the cute guy, and another one. I wonder how old they are. They seem perhaps a year older than me, but don't they have school or something? Anyway, why am I complaining? Thank you for being there today, eye candies!
Tomorrow's lecture will be Cultural Studies, which, hopefully, will be less dry than today's. Right now, I'm dying to have an orange.
1. My dad and I went to watch NDP 09 on Sunday! This year, it was held at Marina Bay, which, I must say, is a vast improvement from NDPs at the Stadium. It was next to the sea, so it was much more cooling and airy. They had nicer seats too, more spacious, and there was a nicer view of Shenton Way and Fullerton Hotel.
I wasn't expected to be wowed by the military display, to be honest. It all seems a little braggy, to showcase all your military might at one event. But now, at the hormonal age of 18, I find that army guys - and seamen, and pilots, and policemen, and practically any guy in a well-starched uniform - are hot. Artillery and ammunition don't hold my interest at all. The last time I watched it, I thought the parade was rather boring, because all they did was march around.
But, like I said, it was a lot more captivating this time around, maybe because I find that the uniforms look better on guys as I grow older (wink). All in all, it was an impressive display. And those boys are HOT. Wow, so that's where all the cute guys are hiding: in camp! All tanned and toned....
Moving on.
The spirit at Marina Bay was amazing. All through the Parade (and the one hour plus of waiting beforehand), I was close to tears and could cry at the drop of a hat. I just felt so proud to be there, to be Singaporean, amongst my own people, hearing pockets of conversation (littered with Singlish) around me. We were a sea of red, displaying national pride, rooting through our funpacks and exclaiming, "Wah! Got Khong Guan biscuits! And NeWater!" Me? I had fun waving the flag and watching it ripple in the late afternoon breeze, while my dad went shutter-crazy.
They played some National Day clips made by students. You know, the one where the bunch of kids are supposed to create an art-piece about National Day, and this special little boy made a collage of a hand, which the teacher initially didn't understand, until she looked in the mirror and realised it was a fist over her heart. Yeah, along with that were others. One was where this NS boy was tearing parking coupons in the car with his dad.
"Time? 2.21."
"2.30," said his dad.
The boy points at the carpark attendance, upon which his father gets out of the car and squabbles with the 'auntie'. And then he launched into his rendition of the pledge with regard to the coupon-parking system. And let me tell you, 2700 people laughing is really infectious.
Another clip was where they asked kids what their aspirations were. There were the usual: lawyer, doctor, pilot, nurse, teacher, etc. And then this last boy was like, "When I grow up, I want to be the president of Singapore." And this bunch of aunties behind me went, "Wahhhh." I wonder how our leaders felt when they watched that. Hopeful? Assured?
Somehow, I teared up at that. Because it's promising, knowing how many youths out there love their country, and understand how much it has done for them. The country doesn't owe us a living, but it has given most of us Gen Y a comfortable life, thus far. It's just gratifying, knowing there are people my age out there who realise that, and know where their loyalties lie. And are proud of that. Like a journalist said in the Monday paper (Home section), patriotism is not uncool. Why should we be ashamed of what we root for? I love Singapore, and I'm not ashamed to proclaim it.
And watching those boys in the parade made me proud of them too, especially of those who constantly put their lives on the line to protect us, to protect our country, and the ones they love. They deserve our respect. Because they are driven to do that, why?
Following that was a clip of Singaporeans (students, etc) abroad, wishing Singapore a happy Independence Day. I teared up because they still call Singapore home. Those people who set their alarm clocks and woke up especially for the Pledge Moment, those people who picked up the phone so they could recite the pledge with their family at 8.22pm, those families that congregated on that day to place their hands over their hearts and meant what they said. They make me proud of them. Like they say, you can take the person out of Singapore, but you can never take the Singaporean out of the person. No point denying who we really are, Chinese, Singaporean... We are what we are, and nothing we do can change that; so we might as well embrace it. And be proud of our identity.
It was an honour being at NDP 09. I'd like to thank mypaper for giving me and my dad a chance to be there to celebrate our nation's 44 years of freedom, equality, justice and success. May Singapore continue to prosper in the years ahead, and be blessed with a non-corrupt, forward-looking government, as well as informed individuals who make the right decision in voting. Happy 44th Independence Day.
2. My entire family (well, apart from a few members, who were busy) came down on Saturday. And just looking at my cousin, Jasmine, made me feel bad about myself all over again. I think I've mentioned before how, since we were young, she's always been prettier and more outgoing than me, and all my aunts love her. She's in SMU now, taking a major in Accountancy. And she's just as pretty, just as confident, meshes just as well with my aunts, etc. I don't know why I'm bringing this up. Never mind. Moving on.
3. Went to the Bird Park with daddy on Monday, since there was this 1-for-1 promotion. I've always preferred the zoo to the Bird Park, if only because it is bigger, and offers more attractions. Birds are more boring than animals, in my humble opinion. The only ones worth seeing are the raptors and Birds of Paradise. And even then, they were all trapped in cages with grills so thick you can barely see anything. In the zoo, there are pumas and leopards and snakes and meerkats and tigers and HORSES! Lovely, graceful, beautiful, friendly horses. But it was still a good day, all in all. Dad and I later met his friend (they've been friends since secondary school) for steamboat dinner at Beach Road (YUM). And that concludes Monday.
4. Just came back from school. Lecture at 10 am, was slightly late for it, because a) jam in Orchard Rd, where my dad had to pass by on his way to work (he drops me off at Tiong Bahru Station, which is near his office at Havelock Rd), and b) I got off the bus at the wrong stop, and had to wait for the next bus. Thankfully, this senior directed me to LT 11, and when he found out I was a freshie, he said, 'Welcome to NUS.' Which was nice. Some seniors are lame enough to screw with you and direct you to the other end of where you're supposed to go.
So my very first lecture for this semester is Nature of Language, taught by this Japanese lecturer, Mie Hiramoto, who grew up in the city of Hiroshima, which explained why she was super-paranoid and went through the Civil Defence Emergency booklet with us for 15 minutes. Another half an hour was spent highlighting the bone of contention, punctuality. And another 15 minutes on administrative stuff, like grading, plagiarism, etc. We only began our lecture 1 hour later. It was all phonemes and morphemes. We skimmed through what we were about to learn. It is the first lecture of the semester, after all.
5. Went for my swim straight after I came back home. Saw the cute guy, and another one. I wonder how old they are. They seem perhaps a year older than me, but don't they have school or something? Anyway, why am I complaining? Thank you for being there today, eye candies!
Tomorrow's lecture will be Cultural Studies, which, hopefully, will be less dry than today's. Right now, I'm dying to have an orange.
Friday, August 07, 2009
An amusing post by Peter Cooper that does make good points:
Dear Mr. Tolkien,
Thank you for submitting a query for your children's novel, "The Hobbit". I regret to inform you that while the proposal shows merit, this agency may not be the best fit for your work.
If I might venture some feedback, your query letter needs to be improved if future submissions are to be met with success. Although well written, with some of the strongest grammar this agency has ever seen, your outline of the dilemma facing the main protagonist failed to engage me on an emotional level. You also spent far too much time talking about your professorship and expertise in Norse mythology and foreign languages. What has that got to do with anything? Tell me about your book!
On to the sample pages you supplied. From what I can see, most of your first chapter is taken up with back-story concerning "hobbits" and their unusual living arrangements. Indeed - by the end of this first chapter, the story still hasn't started. Might I suggest commencing at a different point in the narrative? Your best bet would be to open with Bilbo in the grip of the Trolls, and gradually, as the tale progresses, present the back-story of how he came to be there. This will grab your young reader's attention from the start, enticing them to read further while moving the story along at a much quicker pace.
As for the main protagonist - is it likely that children will relate to a fifty-something man with hairy feet who lives in a pit? Might I suggest making Bilbo younger and perhaps a tad less hairy? How about having him as a young tear-away living in his parent's attic, perhaps escaping one night by tying his bed-sheets together, that sort of thing. This demonstration of a rebellious attitude and a desire for personal empowerment will far better capture the imagination of a young reader than a middle-aged man running off without a pocket-handkerchief. Trust me.
This might be a good place to mention the apparent gender imbalance in the work. There would appear to be just a slight deficiency of female characters in the story. To put this another way, there are none - zilch - zero. There are men with hairy feet, men with long beards, men with pipes, men who can see in the dark - there are even men who can turn into bears. There are men of every size, shape and smoking habit imaginable, but the closest you come to a female character is the inclusion of several slightly effeminate elves. This just won't cut it in today's publishing world. If you want to attract a female audience, you must include strong female role-models. My suggestion would be to make the wizard a woman. Gandalina has a nice ring to it. But lose the beard.
A final comment - the conclusion of your story is far from satisfactory. Having brought Bilbo across miles of uncharted wilderness and ever-present danger, someone else kills the dragon! I can already hear the wails of your young readers, devastated at such a radical deviation from accepted norms of children's literature. I for one will not subject them to such a trial.
I wish you all the very best for your future submissions. Remember, publication is a highly subjective business, and one person's trash may indeed be another person's gold.
Yours
Sincerely,
Herbert T. Agent
Dear Mr. Tolkien,
Thank you for submitting a query for your children's novel, "The Hobbit". I regret to inform you that while the proposal shows merit, this agency may not be the best fit for your work.
If I might venture some feedback, your query letter needs to be improved if future submissions are to be met with success. Although well written, with some of the strongest grammar this agency has ever seen, your outline of the dilemma facing the main protagonist failed to engage me on an emotional level. You also spent far too much time talking about your professorship and expertise in Norse mythology and foreign languages. What has that got to do with anything? Tell me about your book!
On to the sample pages you supplied. From what I can see, most of your first chapter is taken up with back-story concerning "hobbits" and their unusual living arrangements. Indeed - by the end of this first chapter, the story still hasn't started. Might I suggest commencing at a different point in the narrative? Your best bet would be to open with Bilbo in the grip of the Trolls, and gradually, as the tale progresses, present the back-story of how he came to be there. This will grab your young reader's attention from the start, enticing them to read further while moving the story along at a much quicker pace.
As for the main protagonist - is it likely that children will relate to a fifty-something man with hairy feet who lives in a pit? Might I suggest making Bilbo younger and perhaps a tad less hairy? How about having him as a young tear-away living in his parent's attic, perhaps escaping one night by tying his bed-sheets together, that sort of thing. This demonstration of a rebellious attitude and a desire for personal empowerment will far better capture the imagination of a young reader than a middle-aged man running off without a pocket-handkerchief. Trust me.
This might be a good place to mention the apparent gender imbalance in the work. There would appear to be just a slight deficiency of female characters in the story. To put this another way, there are none - zilch - zero. There are men with hairy feet, men with long beards, men with pipes, men who can see in the dark - there are even men who can turn into bears. There are men of every size, shape and smoking habit imaginable, but the closest you come to a female character is the inclusion of several slightly effeminate elves. This just won't cut it in today's publishing world. If you want to attract a female audience, you must include strong female role-models. My suggestion would be to make the wizard a woman. Gandalina has a nice ring to it. But lose the beard.
A final comment - the conclusion of your story is far from satisfactory. Having brought Bilbo across miles of uncharted wilderness and ever-present danger, someone else kills the dragon! I can already hear the wails of your young readers, devastated at such a radical deviation from accepted norms of children's literature. I for one will not subject them to such a trial.
I wish you all the very best for your future submissions. Remember, publication is a highly subjective business, and one person's trash may indeed be another person's gold.
Yours
Sincerely,
Herbert T. Agent
A much less hazy day today, which put me right in the mood to swim more than usual. Yesterday's weather was pretty darn horrible. I woke up to find everything outside the window blurry, and a distinct smell of burning trees in the air. I was ready to call it a day after 32 laps, but pressed on for 4 more, and ended up nursing a very dry throat afterwards.
Anyway, weather aside, I just got back from reading Gerlynn's blog, which was entertaining as usual. Her comment about my playing the national anthem as my wedding march (because, as you know, I'm more patriotic than the average Singaporean teenager - people just don't realise how lucky they are to be living in this country) reminded me of a random call I received yesterday afternoon. Because my essay entry won me a pair of tickets to NDP 09 in the competition held by mypaper, this journalist, Victoria Barker, called me up yesterday for a brief interview of sorts.
Here's how it went:
VB: Hi, Joyce. My name is Victoria Barker and I'm from mypaper. You are aware that you've won a pair of tickets to the NDP?
And blahdiddyblahblah.
VB: So who will you be going with?
Me: My dad.
VB: Is this your first time there with your dad?
Me: Yes, it is. (Wondered if I should elaborate, but could come up with nothing else.)
VB: So it'll be a sort of bonding session for you two?
Me: Totally. (Decided that I had to get over these short answers.)
VB: Do you know about the Pledge thing?
Me: Yes. (But wondering why 8:22pm)
VB: So what does the pledge mean to you?
Me: (paused for a moment while my brain scrambled for a coherent answer) well, mainly, I think it's a promise.
(static)
VB: Hello??
(problem resolved)
Me: Is this clearer now?
VB: Yes, it's much better. Go on.
Me: As I was saying, to me, the pledge is a promise. Because when I was younger, I didn't understand the significance of reciting the pledge everyday. But as I grew older and learnt about Singapore's history through Social Studies, despite what everyone says about it being propaganda, I, on the contrary, came to better appreciate everything our government has done for us. So to me, the pledge is a promise they make to us, and we to them.
And then she asked me for my age, occupation and where I was studying at the mo, and thanked me for my time.
It was a good thing it was a phone call and not a face-to-face interview, because I was going so red and sweating buckets like I always do when people pay close attention to what I say. I remember my Oral exams in school. I'd be trying to mop up my sweat discreetly and maintain eye contact with the examiner, hoping she would pass off my blushing as a reaction to the weather.
Anyway, weather aside, I just got back from reading Gerlynn's blog, which was entertaining as usual. Her comment about my playing the national anthem as my wedding march (because, as you know, I'm more patriotic than the average Singaporean teenager - people just don't realise how lucky they are to be living in this country) reminded me of a random call I received yesterday afternoon. Because my essay entry won me a pair of tickets to NDP 09 in the competition held by mypaper, this journalist, Victoria Barker, called me up yesterday for a brief interview of sorts.
Here's how it went:
VB: Hi, Joyce. My name is Victoria Barker and I'm from mypaper. You are aware that you've won a pair of tickets to the NDP?
And blahdiddyblahblah.
VB: So who will you be going with?
Me: My dad.
VB: Is this your first time there with your dad?
Me: Yes, it is. (Wondered if I should elaborate, but could come up with nothing else.)
VB: So it'll be a sort of bonding session for you two?
Me: Totally. (Decided that I had to get over these short answers.)
VB: Do you know about the Pledge thing?
Me: Yes. (But wondering why 8:22pm)
VB: So what does the pledge mean to you?
Me: (paused for a moment while my brain scrambled for a coherent answer) well, mainly, I think it's a promise.
(static)
VB: Hello??
(problem resolved)
Me: Is this clearer now?
VB: Yes, it's much better. Go on.
Me: As I was saying, to me, the pledge is a promise. Because when I was younger, I didn't understand the significance of reciting the pledge everyday. But as I grew older and learnt about Singapore's history through Social Studies, despite what everyone says about it being propaganda, I, on the contrary, came to better appreciate everything our government has done for us. So to me, the pledge is a promise they make to us, and we to them.
And then she asked me for my age, occupation and where I was studying at the mo, and thanked me for my time.
It was a good thing it was a phone call and not a face-to-face interview, because I was going so red and sweating buckets like I always do when people pay close attention to what I say. I remember my Oral exams in school. I'd be trying to mop up my sweat discreetly and maintain eye contact with the examiner, hoping she would pass off my blushing as a reaction to the weather.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Je suis tres triste.
I was outbidded in French 1, one of the modules I bidded for. It was the one I was most excited for, and I was outbidded with 180 at the minimum bid point while I bidded only 150. I totally could have bidded 180, dammit. Merde.
I'd already planned everything nicely. We're required to take 7 modules outside of our majors, so I'd planned to take French 1-4 and Creative Writing 1-3. Exactly 7 modules, see? Now I'd have to wait for next semester to take French 1. And take another module outside of my major (undeclared yet) for this semester. Dammit.
Now I have no choice but to bid for something that I never intended to take at all. I successfully bidded for:
1. EL1101E: The Nature of Language, Tues 1000-1200.
2. NM1101E: Communications, New Media and Society, Mon 1200-1400
3. GEK1046: Intro to Cultural Studies, Wed 1000-1200
4. GEM1004: Reason and Persuasion (Intro to Philosophy), Fri 1400-1600
I figured I might as well clear some of the uni requirements (2 Breadth modules, 2 General Education modules, and 1 Singapore Studies module), so I took 2 GEMs.
And since I was 1 module short of the 5 recommended, I just went to bid for Sociology of Popular Culture, Fri 1600-1800, which doesn't have anything to do with what I want to learn, but seems interesting, so I figured at least it was better than Intro to Politics or Intro to European History.
Sigh. Please let me get Sociology of Pop Culture, at the very least, gods of module assignment. Since you've already denied me of French.
I was outbidded in French 1, one of the modules I bidded for. It was the one I was most excited for, and I was outbidded with 180 at the minimum bid point while I bidded only 150. I totally could have bidded 180, dammit. Merde.
I'd already planned everything nicely. We're required to take 7 modules outside of our majors, so I'd planned to take French 1-4 and Creative Writing 1-3. Exactly 7 modules, see? Now I'd have to wait for next semester to take French 1. And take another module outside of my major (undeclared yet) for this semester. Dammit.
Now I have no choice but to bid for something that I never intended to take at all. I successfully bidded for:
1. EL1101E: The Nature of Language, Tues 1000-1200.
2. NM1101E: Communications, New Media and Society, Mon 1200-1400
3. GEK1046: Intro to Cultural Studies, Wed 1000-1200
4. GEM1004: Reason and Persuasion (Intro to Philosophy), Fri 1400-1600
I figured I might as well clear some of the uni requirements (2 Breadth modules, 2 General Education modules, and 1 Singapore Studies module), so I took 2 GEMs.
And since I was 1 module short of the 5 recommended, I just went to bid for Sociology of Popular Culture, Fri 1600-1800, which doesn't have anything to do with what I want to learn, but seems interesting, so I figured at least it was better than Intro to Politics or Intro to European History.
Sigh. Please let me get Sociology of Pop Culture, at the very least, gods of module assignment. Since you've already denied me of French.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Penned something for fun the other day, when I was getting all nostalgic.
Smashing Clocks
We dropped our swollen hearts
Today,
Into the box
With the toys that we used to play.
We glanced over our shoulders
Today,
And tried to count
Every second
That led us here,
Looking back
With something in our eyes
Shining like regret.
We smashed all the clocks
Today,
And grasped at loose sand,
Replayed that song,
Traced our fingers over old scars.
We took our time
Today;
We sat in silence,
Today;
We returned to that golden frame
Of yesterday
Today.
Not my best. A little contrived at some points, but whatever.
Smashing Clocks
We dropped our swollen hearts
Today,
Into the box
With the toys that we used to play.
We glanced over our shoulders
Today,
And tried to count
Every second
That led us here,
Looking back
With something in our eyes
Shining like regret.
We smashed all the clocks
Today,
And grasped at loose sand,
Replayed that song,
Traced our fingers over old scars.
We took our time
Today;
We sat in silence,
Today;
We returned to that golden frame
Of yesterday
Today.
Not my best. A little contrived at some points, but whatever.
Okay. Tell me if you'd want to read on if you picked up a book with this opening:
When people die, they slip into another world.
When they lose consciousness, however, they reside – or are trapped in, depending on how you choose to look at it – in an in-between state, a limbo zone, sort of an intermediate holding room. In this zone, you can feel the worlds of the living and the dead both pulling at you, demanding a piece of you.
Dreams are just a step away from insanity, just like how the living is just a mere breath away from the kingdom of the dead.
In a way, dreaming is no different from being dead.
In both instances, you are robbed of your soul temporarily. In dreaming, you lose it until you wake up; in dying, you lose it until you move on to where you should go to.
And in both instances, you experience some form of freedom. It is only in death that your soul is set free from your earthly vessel. It is only in dreams that your mind is truly free.
So how would you know if you were dead or dreaming? Who can differentiate between the two?
Would you?? It's my opening for The Dreamcatchers, my third attempt at a fantasy/supernatural novel.
When people die, they slip into another world.
When they lose consciousness, however, they reside – or are trapped in, depending on how you choose to look at it – in an in-between state, a limbo zone, sort of an intermediate holding room. In this zone, you can feel the worlds of the living and the dead both pulling at you, demanding a piece of you.
Dreams are just a step away from insanity, just like how the living is just a mere breath away from the kingdom of the dead.
In a way, dreaming is no different from being dead.
In both instances, you are robbed of your soul temporarily. In dreaming, you lose it until you wake up; in dying, you lose it until you move on to where you should go to.
And in both instances, you experience some form of freedom. It is only in death that your soul is set free from your earthly vessel. It is only in dreams that your mind is truly free.
So how would you know if you were dead or dreaming? Who can differentiate between the two?
Would you?? It's my opening for The Dreamcatchers, my third attempt at a fantasy/supernatural novel.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
From literary agent, Rachelle Gardner's blog:
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Fiction Writing: Craft and Story
As I go through queries and partials, I'm often thinking about the two elements of a good novel: craft and story.
Craft refers to all the mechanics of fiction: plot, characterization, dialogue, pacing, flow, scene-crafting, dramatic structure, point-of-view, etc.
Story refers to the page-turning factor: how compelling is your story, how unique or original, does it connect with the reader, is there that certain spark that makes it jump off the page? Is it sufficiently suspenseful or romantic? Is the author's voice distinct and compelling? It's much harder to quantify than craft, and harder to teach.
Of course, the two elements are intertwined, but it's helpful to artificially separate them, in order to understand why a book is either working—or not.
Lately I've noticed amongst my stacks of rejected queries an increasing number of projects that show strong technique, but no originality or heart. In a way, this is good because it shows that writers are paying attention to their craft. They're taking the time and making the effort to learn to write, which is fantastic.
But it's heartbreaking to me at the same time. I hate that lifeless feeling of a boring (or derivative or unoriginal) story, perfectly executed. I get the feeling many people are so saturated with media (books, TV, movies) that they are writing not from life but from their perception of life as shown in media. They're writing stories I've seen and heard a hundred times before.
In fact, just this week I read some sample chapters from a newbie writer, and I was impressed with the technical excellence. Nice dialogue, perfect POVs, showing not telling... the craft elements were all there. But the story itself involved a hackneyed plot, a totally uninteresting protagonist, and major predictability. It felt like it was written by a computer program, and it made me sad. I want to teach writers to not only learn the craft, but to also write from their heart. Write with authenticity, write from the depths of personal experience.
I think some writers find craft easier, and others find story comes more naturally. It's up to you to understand where you stand as a writer, where your strengths and weaknesses are, and make the effort to keep working on both sides of the equation.
And when you read published books that don't seem to "follow the rules" of craft that you've worked so hard to learn, try to determine if maybe that book got published because of the story, rather than technical perfection. (Or it might just be that the author has established a loyal following who enjoys their particular style of storytelling.)
If your storytelling is powerful enough, readers will forgive an awful lot of flaws in technique... and so will agents and editors. On the other hand, all the perfect "craft" in the world can't make an unimaginative book shine.
If editors and agents are looking at your samples and immediately criticizing your craft, be aware this means they aren't able to see a fabulous story in there. Either it doesn't exist to begin with, or it's camouflaged by your lack of expertise in fiction technique.
So writers, speak up. Where do you stand? Which is harder for you? How do you approach both sides of this craft/story equation?
It's well-said by Rachelle. I think my stories are perceptions of life, instead of life through my own eyes. Craft is so much easier to work on; just keep reading quality writing, and then keep trying it out on your own. Story, on the other hand, is more difficult to come by. It has to come from within, and no amount of practice or drilling can ever forge something genuine and real. I wish I have that. Really good writers, like Sarah Dessen and Deb Caletti and Christie Hodgen, don't focus a lot of their plot, but make damn sure their characters are richly-painted, thereby moving the story forward with them, throwing in sub-plots along the way. My writing relies heavily on action, on plot. It isn't a bad thing, but it can also make the writer - and therefore the reader - seem detached from her story and her characters. In my opinin, to really connect with the characters - and therefore to make your readers relate and fall in love with them - a writer should have an opinion on everything, and do the same for her characters. Only then will they take their lives - and the story - by the reins, instead of letting things happen to them, as plot-driven stories often do.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Fiction Writing: Craft and Story
As I go through queries and partials, I'm often thinking about the two elements of a good novel: craft and story.
Craft refers to all the mechanics of fiction: plot, characterization, dialogue, pacing, flow, scene-crafting, dramatic structure, point-of-view, etc.
Story refers to the page-turning factor: how compelling is your story, how unique or original, does it connect with the reader, is there that certain spark that makes it jump off the page? Is it sufficiently suspenseful or romantic? Is the author's voice distinct and compelling? It's much harder to quantify than craft, and harder to teach.
Of course, the two elements are intertwined, but it's helpful to artificially separate them, in order to understand why a book is either working—or not.
Lately I've noticed amongst my stacks of rejected queries an increasing number of projects that show strong technique, but no originality or heart. In a way, this is good because it shows that writers are paying attention to their craft. They're taking the time and making the effort to learn to write, which is fantastic.
But it's heartbreaking to me at the same time. I hate that lifeless feeling of a boring (or derivative or unoriginal) story, perfectly executed. I get the feeling many people are so saturated with media (books, TV, movies) that they are writing not from life but from their perception of life as shown in media. They're writing stories I've seen and heard a hundred times before.
In fact, just this week I read some sample chapters from a newbie writer, and I was impressed with the technical excellence. Nice dialogue, perfect POVs, showing not telling... the craft elements were all there. But the story itself involved a hackneyed plot, a totally uninteresting protagonist, and major predictability. It felt like it was written by a computer program, and it made me sad. I want to teach writers to not only learn the craft, but to also write from their heart. Write with authenticity, write from the depths of personal experience.
I think some writers find craft easier, and others find story comes more naturally. It's up to you to understand where you stand as a writer, where your strengths and weaknesses are, and make the effort to keep working on both sides of the equation.
And when you read published books that don't seem to "follow the rules" of craft that you've worked so hard to learn, try to determine if maybe that book got published because of the story, rather than technical perfection. (Or it might just be that the author has established a loyal following who enjoys their particular style of storytelling.)
If your storytelling is powerful enough, readers will forgive an awful lot of flaws in technique... and so will agents and editors. On the other hand, all the perfect "craft" in the world can't make an unimaginative book shine.
If editors and agents are looking at your samples and immediately criticizing your craft, be aware this means they aren't able to see a fabulous story in there. Either it doesn't exist to begin with, or it's camouflaged by your lack of expertise in fiction technique.
So writers, speak up. Where do you stand? Which is harder for you? How do you approach both sides of this craft/story equation?
It's well-said by Rachelle. I think my stories are perceptions of life, instead of life through my own eyes. Craft is so much easier to work on; just keep reading quality writing, and then keep trying it out on your own. Story, on the other hand, is more difficult to come by. It has to come from within, and no amount of practice or drilling can ever forge something genuine and real. I wish I have that. Really good writers, like Sarah Dessen and Deb Caletti and Christie Hodgen, don't focus a lot of their plot, but make damn sure their characters are richly-painted, thereby moving the story forward with them, throwing in sub-plots along the way. My writing relies heavily on action, on plot. It isn't a bad thing, but it can also make the writer - and therefore the reader - seem detached from her story and her characters. In my opinin, to really connect with the characters - and therefore to make your readers relate and fall in love with them - a writer should have an opinion on everything, and do the same for her characters. Only then will they take their lives - and the story - by the reins, instead of letting things happen to them, as plot-driven stories often do.
Monday, August 03, 2009
This nice old man from the pool gave me a bag of fruits today. Did I mention that mainly expats and retirees go to the pool near my house? The expats are always sun-bathing, while the retirees are there everyday. This nice old man is one of them. I recognise a few regulars, because I see them there everyday too, and they go really early. To give you an idea of how early they're there, most of them are always out of the shower by the time I arrive at 10am for my swim. They're there so often that they chat with the lifeguards as though they're old friends. The lifeguards recognise me (we say hi and bye everyday) but we definitely don't chat like they do. Oh, also, there's this Caucasian lady - mid-twenties, maybe - who can speak Mandarin and always chat with the retirees when she's there. Which is think is pretty cool.
Anyway, so I guess the nice old man recognises me too, since this is the second time he gave me fruits. The first time he did, I thought he was just trying to get rid of them, so he shoved them to whomever he saw. But this time it isn't. I just think it's so sweet. People at the pool near my house are so nice. The lifeguards are nice too. There's this Indian one who has the brightest smile whenever he says good morning to me; and another Indian one who's always joking around with me ("Girl, you swim everyday until you become black like me already."); this other Chinese guy whom I secretly dub Papa Bear (because he looks like one) and who's so friendly; and another Chinese guy who looks like Kermit the Frog (in a cute way, that is); this girl in her early-20s who, strangely, reminds me of Ms Seow because they look tanned and sporty; and lastly, a couple of other young Chinese lifeguards and a Malay one.
I live in such a lovely neighbourhood. I love Singapore :)
Oh, and on a different note, I'm currently reading this children's fantasy story called The Mysterious Benedict Society, by Trenton Lee Stewart, which has proved to be a more enjoyable read than I'd expected. Now, I'm looking for the sequel. It was there in the library the last time I saw it, but now someone's borrowed it. Damn. Ah well. Better luck next time. Also, I'm re-reading the Jessica Darling series, by Megan McCafferty, and I have to say, I'm enjoying it more this time round. For me, this series will always remind me of my JC days, because I read them during that period. Jessica Darling is completely relatable in a neurotic, overanalysing way (she's a genius - who ends up going to Columbia after high school - who lives amongst her shallow 16-year-old peers out of the need to be normal after her soulmate-cum-best-friend Hope left New Jersey). I like that the writer doesn't make Jessica talk in a completely shallow way; through her writing, you can tell that Jessica is intelligent and misunderstood and a very observant individual. In some other YA books (I shan't name names), the writer writes in such a way that makes the reader feel as though she's talking down to us. In this other books that I read ... okay, I'll give you the title: Swoon. It's about a girl who falls in love with an errant ghost who possesses her friend to seek revenge against those who persecuted him. The plot sounds nice, doesn't it? But the writing style was so bad even the plot couldn't save it. I gave up halfway and returned the book. Such a shame. The premise of the story was promising. Remind me never to write like that.
Also, I'm currently in the midst of bidding for my modules for school. I bidded for 3 modules in Round 1c: The Nature of Language (which the seniors say is great fun, and which a hell lot of people bidded for: 392 bidders for 381 vacancies, just to give you an idea of how popular it is), Intro to Communications (also another popular module), and French 1.
In Round 2a, which began this morning, I learnt that I've successfully bidded for Nature of Language and Intro to Communications. I DIDN'T GET FRENCH!!!! *bawls* But I'm going to try bidding again. The lecture slot that I chose is a very popular one. Last I checked, there were 11 bidders for a lecture with only 6 vacancies. But I'm NOT going to be outbidded this time. I've been given more points for this round (while I was left with 220 points in the last round, I now have 592 points), so I'm going to throw in more bidding points. I am going to get into French 1, lecture group 8, no matter how many points it takes.
Also, we're required to take 2 General Education modules, 1 Singapore Studies module, and 2 Breadth modules throughout the course of our education in NUS. So I was thinking I'd get it over and done with. So I'm going to take 1 SS module and 1 GEM this semester, along with the 3 that I'd bidded for. Problem is, a lot of the exam and lecture timetables clash, between GEM/SS and the regular modules. Which is incredibly annoying. I can't take the more interesting SS modules because of the regular ones I'd bidded for. Ah well. Let's hope it all works out. Fingers crossed!
Anyway, so I guess the nice old man recognises me too, since this is the second time he gave me fruits. The first time he did, I thought he was just trying to get rid of them, so he shoved them to whomever he saw. But this time it isn't. I just think it's so sweet. People at the pool near my house are so nice. The lifeguards are nice too. There's this Indian one who has the brightest smile whenever he says good morning to me; and another Indian one who's always joking around with me ("Girl, you swim everyday until you become black like me already."); this other Chinese guy whom I secretly dub Papa Bear (because he looks like one) and who's so friendly; and another Chinese guy who looks like Kermit the Frog (in a cute way, that is); this girl in her early-20s who, strangely, reminds me of Ms Seow because they look tanned and sporty; and lastly, a couple of other young Chinese lifeguards and a Malay one.
I live in such a lovely neighbourhood. I love Singapore :)
Oh, and on a different note, I'm currently reading this children's fantasy story called The Mysterious Benedict Society, by Trenton Lee Stewart, which has proved to be a more enjoyable read than I'd expected. Now, I'm looking for the sequel. It was there in the library the last time I saw it, but now someone's borrowed it. Damn. Ah well. Better luck next time. Also, I'm re-reading the Jessica Darling series, by Megan McCafferty, and I have to say, I'm enjoying it more this time round. For me, this series will always remind me of my JC days, because I read them during that period. Jessica Darling is completely relatable in a neurotic, overanalysing way (she's a genius - who ends up going to Columbia after high school - who lives amongst her shallow 16-year-old peers out of the need to be normal after her soulmate-cum-best-friend Hope left New Jersey). I like that the writer doesn't make Jessica talk in a completely shallow way; through her writing, you can tell that Jessica is intelligent and misunderstood and a very observant individual. In some other YA books (I shan't name names), the writer writes in such a way that makes the reader feel as though she's talking down to us. In this other books that I read ... okay, I'll give you the title: Swoon. It's about a girl who falls in love with an errant ghost who possesses her friend to seek revenge against those who persecuted him. The plot sounds nice, doesn't it? But the writing style was so bad even the plot couldn't save it. I gave up halfway and returned the book. Such a shame. The premise of the story was promising. Remind me never to write like that.
Also, I'm currently in the midst of bidding for my modules for school. I bidded for 3 modules in Round 1c: The Nature of Language (which the seniors say is great fun, and which a hell lot of people bidded for: 392 bidders for 381 vacancies, just to give you an idea of how popular it is), Intro to Communications (also another popular module), and French 1.
In Round 2a, which began this morning, I learnt that I've successfully bidded for Nature of Language and Intro to Communications. I DIDN'T GET FRENCH!!!! *bawls* But I'm going to try bidding again. The lecture slot that I chose is a very popular one. Last I checked, there were 11 bidders for a lecture with only 6 vacancies. But I'm NOT going to be outbidded this time. I've been given more points for this round (while I was left with 220 points in the last round, I now have 592 points), so I'm going to throw in more bidding points. I am going to get into French 1, lecture group 8, no matter how many points it takes.
Also, we're required to take 2 General Education modules, 1 Singapore Studies module, and 2 Breadth modules throughout the course of our education in NUS. So I was thinking I'd get it over and done with. So I'm going to take 1 SS module and 1 GEM this semester, along with the 3 that I'd bidded for. Problem is, a lot of the exam and lecture timetables clash, between GEM/SS and the regular modules. Which is incredibly annoying. I can't take the more interesting SS modules because of the regular ones I'd bidded for. Ah well. Let's hope it all works out. Fingers crossed!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Don't you just hate it when the weather disrupts your exercise routine? I was in the middle of my swim just now - only 22 laps, 8 more to go! - when dark clouds gathered at an alarming rate, and it soon began pouring. Being the typical kiasi Singaporean, I stopped for fear of getting struck by lightning. After 15 minutes of waiting, the rain ceased a little, so I swam 16 more laps. The extra 8 laps were to compensate for the waiting time. See, that's why it's annoying when the weather disrupts your exercise routine. Ah well. It's the weather; what can we do? We are but pawns on this wild, wonderful, unpredictable world.
Anyway. Caught Pocahontas on Saturday evening on TV. And have I said before that it's the best Disney movie ever made? Such an epic love story, and all the impactful messages it sends out. They don't make em like that anymore. Now, it's all the High School Musical and Hannah Montana and Wizards of Waverly Place trash. I'm sorry if I've offended anyone by saying that, but that's really how I feel. It's so senseless and pointless. Oh, John Smith. I totally cried at the last part, where she ran to the edge of that cliff and waved that special goodbye to him. And also when she repeated what he said about being with him no matter what happens, forever. Sigh. They're the most believable couple in Disney. Aladdin and Princess Jasmine weren't quite so believable. Just one magic carpet ride and they're in love. And if you think about it, Aladdin fell for Jasmine at first sight. No such thing, sweets. Plus, Pocahontas has a rocking soundtrack. I love that part where Pocahontas said, "This is where the path of hatred has brought us," and her dad, the village chief, said, "My daughter speaks with a wisdom that is beyond her age," and that was like Pocahontas living up to her dead mother's name, because her mother was wise too and Pocahontas' father had always wished his daughter would grow up to be like her mother. That was kind of a poignant moment. Triv was funny, when I told her how she should have left with John. She was like, yeah she's only really needed there to pick corn anyway, so she should have left with him. LMAO.
Okay, over that. I also caught the Singapore versus Liverpool match yesterday evening. I guess it's kind of expected that we'd be annihilated by them. But it was poor effort on the Lions' part, imo. They didn't even seem to put in any effort. You could tell they totally thought, we're going to lose anyway, so what the heck. I mean, even if you lost, you could still put up a good fight, like Thailand, RIGHT?? The players ran so slowly, always defending, never attacking, and several times, they even passed to the wrong person. My dad laughed his butt off during those times. It was really funny; you'd have to watch it to get it. And that 'tap' by Fernando Torres just takes the cake. I mean, when Alonso made his move, it was obvious he wasn't aiming for the net. Why did the bloody goalkeeper still try to save it? So he left the net wide open and allowed Torres to 'tap' - that's the word they used - the ball in. Tap. Implies 'piece of cake'. I bet they must be laughing their asses off at how much we suck. Ah well. I've never watched an entire football match, so I never knew the players swopped jerseys at the end of the game. Personally, I think it's disgusting. Exchanging sweat. Ugh. But if it's Fernando Torres' sweat, I'd gladly have it. He was, duh, amazing. Those beautiful doe eyes, that smile. His wife is one lucky girl. And his baby daughter looks like an angel. I hope she has her father's eyes.
Oh, Fernando.
Anyway. Caught Pocahontas on Saturday evening on TV. And have I said before that it's the best Disney movie ever made? Such an epic love story, and all the impactful messages it sends out. They don't make em like that anymore. Now, it's all the High School Musical and Hannah Montana and Wizards of Waverly Place trash. I'm sorry if I've offended anyone by saying that, but that's really how I feel. It's so senseless and pointless. Oh, John Smith. I totally cried at the last part, where she ran to the edge of that cliff and waved that special goodbye to him. And also when she repeated what he said about being with him no matter what happens, forever. Sigh. They're the most believable couple in Disney. Aladdin and Princess Jasmine weren't quite so believable. Just one magic carpet ride and they're in love. And if you think about it, Aladdin fell for Jasmine at first sight. No such thing, sweets. Plus, Pocahontas has a rocking soundtrack. I love that part where Pocahontas said, "This is where the path of hatred has brought us," and her dad, the village chief, said, "My daughter speaks with a wisdom that is beyond her age," and that was like Pocahontas living up to her dead mother's name, because her mother was wise too and Pocahontas' father had always wished his daughter would grow up to be like her mother. That was kind of a poignant moment. Triv was funny, when I told her how she should have left with John. She was like, yeah she's only really needed there to pick corn anyway, so she should have left with him. LMAO.
Okay, over that. I also caught the Singapore versus Liverpool match yesterday evening. I guess it's kind of expected that we'd be annihilated by them. But it was poor effort on the Lions' part, imo. They didn't even seem to put in any effort. You could tell they totally thought, we're going to lose anyway, so what the heck. I mean, even if you lost, you could still put up a good fight, like Thailand, RIGHT?? The players ran so slowly, always defending, never attacking, and several times, they even passed to the wrong person. My dad laughed his butt off during those times. It was really funny; you'd have to watch it to get it. And that 'tap' by Fernando Torres just takes the cake. I mean, when Alonso made his move, it was obvious he wasn't aiming for the net. Why did the bloody goalkeeper still try to save it? So he left the net wide open and allowed Torres to 'tap' - that's the word they used - the ball in. Tap. Implies 'piece of cake'. I bet they must be laughing their asses off at how much we suck. Ah well. I've never watched an entire football match, so I never knew the players swopped jerseys at the end of the game. Personally, I think it's disgusting. Exchanging sweat. Ugh. But if it's Fernando Torres' sweat, I'd gladly have it. He was, duh, amazing. Those beautiful doe eyes, that smile. His wife is one lucky girl. And his baby daughter looks like an angel. I hope she has her father's eyes.
Oh, Fernando.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Caught Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince yesterday. And can I just say how ABSOLUTELY DEPRESSING it is?
I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a great show, but just the whole mood of it. If it weren't for all the fluffy romance stuff that David Yates (the director) paid attention to, the entire movie would depress the hell out of me. Not that it hasn't already. Just the whole mood of it. So sombre, and heavy, with a sense of foreboding. I mean, it's good to make it darker and all, but you know, LIGHTEN UP!
But I must say, Rupert and Daniel's acting have improved a hell lot. Actually, Dan's acting improved a lot since Goblet of Fire. I remember cringing so hard for him in Prisoner of Azkaban (especially that scene where he was crying, in Hogsmeade, about how Sirius Black was that friend who betrayed his parents), but in Goblet of Fire I was impressed by how far he'd come. Emma Watson's acting, though ... Well, Triv and I agreed it's completely OTT (over-the-top, for those of you who don't know). The weird eyebrow-raising, the inexplicable expressions at times, and the exaggerated manner in which she delivers her lines. I don't know, it just seems too forced to me, like you're aware of her acting. Dan's acting, compared to hers, is so much more natural. That scene where she was conjuring those birds after seeing Ron and Lavender kiss made us laugh a little. Did she have to cry like that? In Order of the Phoenix, they weren't even that obvious about their love for each other, and now she's weeping over him kissing someone else?
Oh, and Tom Felton's acting was pretty good too. It's good he's got more screentime this time, because his performance was impressive.
And of course, our lovely FREDDIE STROMA (Cormac McLaggen). I love that dignified look he pulled after vomiting dragonballs all over Snape. My god, how SMOKIN HOT is he! He should get more screentime! But, ah well. No Hogwarts for The Deathly Hallows.
And then, of course, was Dumbledore's death, which totally made me cry when Prof. McGonagall (or however you spell it) lit up her wand and everyone else followed suit. Triv turned to me and said, "You're crying over this?!" Which is funny, because I didn't cry when I read the books (then again, I don't cry when reading books, only once or twice). Well, I cry in almost every movie, though, so.
But what I didn't like about the movie was how much the director changed it. Well, not completely, but he tweaked some details and added some scenes. Why did Jo Rowling agree to them? It was Tonks who found Harry in the train compartment, not Luna (but that's okay). And Ginny and Harry kissed after the Quidditch match that Harry didn't participate, not when she was hiding the Potions textbook for him in the Room of Requirement (she wasn't even supposed to be there with him). And what is with the burning down of the Burrow? All of a sudden, they were there, and for some reason, Ron wasn't, and then after that, there's this short scene of Ron canoodling with Lavender. Fragmented scenes much? And that girl at the train station hitting on Harry? Was he even supposed to be at the train station to begin with? Maybe they didn't have money to hire the Dursleys. And Dumbledore was supposed to have Stupefied Harry, not chase him down the stairs to hide. And they were both supposed to have been tricked by the Death-Eaters' Dark Mark, not just happen to be at the Astronomy Tower. I don't get it, what's the point of changing and adding these scenes?
Maybe it's because I just finished re-reading it a day before I watched it, that I'm nitpicking like a grumpy old spinster (where did that come from?). So when The Deathly Hallows comes out next year, I shouldn't re-read the book beforehand, or I'd just get too hung up over the details.
But all in all, it was a good movie. But Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix were better. Mike Newell's the best so far (Goblet of Fire's director). Good soundtrack for GoF too. And of course, Cedric Diggory. But this one has Cormac, so it's a tie in that aspect. I think Freddie's hotter than RPattz, though. Rob's a charming interviewee, and looks good as Edward, but other times, he's got nothing up against the likes of Freddie Stroma or Jensen Ackles (speaking of which, I feel like re-watching Supernatural again) or Ryan Reynolds.
I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a great show, but just the whole mood of it. If it weren't for all the fluffy romance stuff that David Yates (the director) paid attention to, the entire movie would depress the hell out of me. Not that it hasn't already. Just the whole mood of it. So sombre, and heavy, with a sense of foreboding. I mean, it's good to make it darker and all, but you know, LIGHTEN UP!
But I must say, Rupert and Daniel's acting have improved a hell lot. Actually, Dan's acting improved a lot since Goblet of Fire. I remember cringing so hard for him in Prisoner of Azkaban (especially that scene where he was crying, in Hogsmeade, about how Sirius Black was that friend who betrayed his parents), but in Goblet of Fire I was impressed by how far he'd come. Emma Watson's acting, though ... Well, Triv and I agreed it's completely OTT (over-the-top, for those of you who don't know). The weird eyebrow-raising, the inexplicable expressions at times, and the exaggerated manner in which she delivers her lines. I don't know, it just seems too forced to me, like you're aware of her acting. Dan's acting, compared to hers, is so much more natural. That scene where she was conjuring those birds after seeing Ron and Lavender kiss made us laugh a little. Did she have to cry like that? In Order of the Phoenix, they weren't even that obvious about their love for each other, and now she's weeping over him kissing someone else?
Oh, and Tom Felton's acting was pretty good too. It's good he's got more screentime this time, because his performance was impressive.
And of course, our lovely FREDDIE STROMA (Cormac McLaggen). I love that dignified look he pulled after vomiting dragonballs all over Snape. My god, how SMOKIN HOT is he! He should get more screentime! But, ah well. No Hogwarts for The Deathly Hallows.
And then, of course, was Dumbledore's death, which totally made me cry when Prof. McGonagall (or however you spell it) lit up her wand and everyone else followed suit. Triv turned to me and said, "You're crying over this?!" Which is funny, because I didn't cry when I read the books (then again, I don't cry when reading books, only once or twice). Well, I cry in almost every movie, though, so.
But what I didn't like about the movie was how much the director changed it. Well, not completely, but he tweaked some details and added some scenes. Why did Jo Rowling agree to them? It was Tonks who found Harry in the train compartment, not Luna (but that's okay). And Ginny and Harry kissed after the Quidditch match that Harry didn't participate, not when she was hiding the Potions textbook for him in the Room of Requirement (she wasn't even supposed to be there with him). And what is with the burning down of the Burrow? All of a sudden, they were there, and for some reason, Ron wasn't, and then after that, there's this short scene of Ron canoodling with Lavender. Fragmented scenes much? And that girl at the train station hitting on Harry? Was he even supposed to be at the train station to begin with? Maybe they didn't have money to hire the Dursleys. And Dumbledore was supposed to have Stupefied Harry, not chase him down the stairs to hide. And they were both supposed to have been tricked by the Death-Eaters' Dark Mark, not just happen to be at the Astronomy Tower. I don't get it, what's the point of changing and adding these scenes?
Maybe it's because I just finished re-reading it a day before I watched it, that I'm nitpicking like a grumpy old spinster (where did that come from?). So when The Deathly Hallows comes out next year, I shouldn't re-read the book beforehand, or I'd just get too hung up over the details.
But all in all, it was a good movie. But Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix were better. Mike Newell's the best so far (Goblet of Fire's director). Good soundtrack for GoF too. And of course, Cedric Diggory. But this one has Cormac, so it's a tie in that aspect. I think Freddie's hotter than RPattz, though. Rob's a charming interviewee, and looks good as Edward, but other times, he's got nothing up against the likes of Freddie Stroma or Jensen Ackles (speaking of which, I feel like re-watching Supernatural again) or Ryan Reynolds.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Night time. The time I usually get all nostalgic.
Tonight, I decided to pull out the World History book that I bought from a second-hand bookshop at Bras Basah and do some reading. I was reading about the fall of Greece and got so confused about Macedonia and Sparta and all the Peloponnesian wars that I needed to hunt for a map.
Which led me to riff through my drawers and boxes in which I've stored all my secondary and JC textbooks.
As usual, I got distracted and ended up doing some H2 Math sums. After getting sick of it after an hour, I decided to read Wendy Clark. For those who don't know who she is, she's all O'Level History students' saviour (as is Marian Chong O'Level Geography students' saviour). We swallowed up that book (practically every sentence was important - I remember my dad telling me I might as well highlight the sentences that weren't important instead, so the pages won't be filled with highlighted chunks) and vomitted everything out for the Cambridge examiners.
And reading Wendy Clark made me think of Mrs Haridas, our History teacher. She was always so maternal. Wonder how she is now.
And thinking of Haridas made me think of Mrs Singh, the best Chemistry teacher I ever had. Her explanations are so lucid and she's the no-nonsense kind of woman. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
I unearthed my secondary 1 science notebook, and read through the atoms and molecules notes. I kind of miss studying Chemistry. Too bad I suck at practical. It always pulls my A down to a B. Chemistry class was always so productive.
And then, later, I was just sitting there reading the notes I had scribbled all over my secondary 2 Geography textbook, when Don't Tell Me by Avril Lavigne comes on the radio. It seemed like not so long ago that I was in the same circumstance, reading my Geog notes while Avril wails on in the background. Wonder how Khrish, Yvonne and Stacy are doing now. Haven't met them or caught up with them in ages.
I guess the reason why I enjoyed mugging for O'Levels (yes, I realise how geeky that made me sound, but wtv, geeky is the new chic) is because I had great influence, in the form of my friends, around me, especially Gerlynn. My friends made going to school and attending lessons fun. Thanks, Ger, for staying with me after school in the library everyday to mug. I remember we'd force ourselves to sit at different tables just so we wouldn't get distracted and talk. People would think we had a fight, which was sort of funny.
A'Levels wasn't as fun to study for, because, well, circumstances were different. And it was a hell lot tougher, especially Geography. I was besotted with the subject in secondary school (I think everyone in 4E2 were) - I loved my subject combination - but H2 Geog is so much more demanding, and I ended up finding it a drag sometimes.
Ah, well.
I just miss school and studying so much, all of a sudden. Maybe it's this looooong break that made me yearn to employ my brain once again. I don't ever want to go out into the working world; I want to stay cocooned in school forever, where your worth and performance are only determined by the grades you get. It's simple and clear-cut. Not much depends on chance or luck, like in the real world.
Dammit, I miss school. I miss studying for O's. That was, in fact, the best time of my life. I know it sounds sad, but it was. Studying for A's wasn't as rewarding, because you don't get your A's as easily even though you put in the same amount of effort. In my case, I didn't put in the same amount of effort, because I guess I lost the drive after O's. Which made it more difficult to get the A's.
In short, can't wait for school to start.
By the way, I unearthed ONE diary that I had left out. I'd decided to throw away ALL the diaries I had written in the course of my secondary school years (at least 10) one day, and this is the only one left. It was the sixteenth one (I label my diaries in chronological order) and was written from after secondary 4 Prelim exams to the beginning of J1 in the best junior college in the world (come on, I love SA).
I really regret throwing away my diaries. How could I? Those were my formative years. Sigh.
I told you I get awfully nostalgic at night.
Tonight, I decided to pull out the World History book that I bought from a second-hand bookshop at Bras Basah and do some reading. I was reading about the fall of Greece and got so confused about Macedonia and Sparta and all the Peloponnesian wars that I needed to hunt for a map.
Which led me to riff through my drawers and boxes in which I've stored all my secondary and JC textbooks.
As usual, I got distracted and ended up doing some H2 Math sums. After getting sick of it after an hour, I decided to read Wendy Clark. For those who don't know who she is, she's all O'Level History students' saviour (as is Marian Chong O'Level Geography students' saviour). We swallowed up that book (practically every sentence was important - I remember my dad telling me I might as well highlight the sentences that weren't important instead, so the pages won't be filled with highlighted chunks) and vomitted everything out for the Cambridge examiners.
And reading Wendy Clark made me think of Mrs Haridas, our History teacher. She was always so maternal. Wonder how she is now.
And thinking of Haridas made me think of Mrs Singh, the best Chemistry teacher I ever had. Her explanations are so lucid and she's the no-nonsense kind of woman. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
I unearthed my secondary 1 science notebook, and read through the atoms and molecules notes. I kind of miss studying Chemistry. Too bad I suck at practical. It always pulls my A down to a B. Chemistry class was always so productive.
And then, later, I was just sitting there reading the notes I had scribbled all over my secondary 2 Geography textbook, when Don't Tell Me by Avril Lavigne comes on the radio. It seemed like not so long ago that I was in the same circumstance, reading my Geog notes while Avril wails on in the background. Wonder how Khrish, Yvonne and Stacy are doing now. Haven't met them or caught up with them in ages.
I guess the reason why I enjoyed mugging for O'Levels (yes, I realise how geeky that made me sound, but wtv, geeky is the new chic) is because I had great influence, in the form of my friends, around me, especially Gerlynn. My friends made going to school and attending lessons fun. Thanks, Ger, for staying with me after school in the library everyday to mug. I remember we'd force ourselves to sit at different tables just so we wouldn't get distracted and talk. People would think we had a fight, which was sort of funny.
A'Levels wasn't as fun to study for, because, well, circumstances were different. And it was a hell lot tougher, especially Geography. I was besotted with the subject in secondary school (I think everyone in 4E2 were) - I loved my subject combination - but H2 Geog is so much more demanding, and I ended up finding it a drag sometimes.
Ah, well.
I just miss school and studying so much, all of a sudden. Maybe it's this looooong break that made me yearn to employ my brain once again. I don't ever want to go out into the working world; I want to stay cocooned in school forever, where your worth and performance are only determined by the grades you get. It's simple and clear-cut. Not much depends on chance or luck, like in the real world.
Dammit, I miss school. I miss studying for O's. That was, in fact, the best time of my life. I know it sounds sad, but it was. Studying for A's wasn't as rewarding, because you don't get your A's as easily even though you put in the same amount of effort. In my case, I didn't put in the same amount of effort, because I guess I lost the drive after O's. Which made it more difficult to get the A's.
In short, can't wait for school to start.
By the way, I unearthed ONE diary that I had left out. I'd decided to throw away ALL the diaries I had written in the course of my secondary school years (at least 10) one day, and this is the only one left. It was the sixteenth one (I label my diaries in chronological order) and was written from after secondary 4 Prelim exams to the beginning of J1 in the best junior college in the world (come on, I love SA).
I really regret throwing away my diaries. How could I? Those were my formative years. Sigh.
I told you I get awfully nostalgic at night.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Had a great time with the girls last night. Triv, XH and I watched Transformers at Cine, and rolled our eyes at how the guys panted after Megan Fox, even though we (okay, I) went nuts over Josh Duhamel and Shia Labeouf. Joyce joined us for dinner at this BBQ restaurant afterwards that served pathetic-looking food drenched in olive oil. Just because it's the healthier choice doesn't mean you go crazy with it, people. Anyway, we had loads to talk about, and Triv and Joyce argued over petty technicalities as always (something about how hand sanitisers don't remove dirt even though it kills bacteria... I don't know, something trivial like that), and we laughed like psychos over almost everything we talked about. The night seemed too short. We have to meet up again soon, darlings. Love you guys.
And as for the movie, I'd say three and a half stars. It was good, but not fantastic. Very fluffy, very plot-driven. I have nothing against this type of movies, of course, since chick flicks are just as fluffy and plot-driven. But I thought there was way too many explosions and collisions. Plus, it didn't seem ... real. Like, if those machines (okay, autobots) were so heavy, wouldn't all those roads snap everywhere they go? I mean, there are always sparks and ground-shaking everytime those autobots move. Anyway. I gave it three and a half stars because compared to something like LOTR, which is irrefutably 5-star material, that's all it's worth. I enjoyed Revenge of the Fallen, but it's just like MI3, action and cars and explosions and girls (I did not need to see Megan Fox's ass or cleavage, or her Collagen-injected lips that she kept pouting nonstop throughout the movie). It's a boy movie.
Speaking of LOTR, I've been setting The Breaking of the Fellowship on replay mode the whole day. It's on my playlist (the gray one, right at the bottom of the list), so go watch the movie (if you haven't, my goodness) and then listen to it. It's the sort of music that brings you to tears. And I'm going to watch Fellowship again now. Gotta love the Shire. Later.
Oh, and that skank from Transformers (not Megan, the other one who was hitting on Sam in college, the one with the diesel-tasting freaky tongue) reminded me of this Victoria's Secret model, Doutzen Kroes. She just kinda looks like her, is all.
And I'm not saying I'm crushing on Shia now. He's just cute, you know? The kind that you'd love to be around, because he seems so innocent and not about to hit on you all the time. Plus, he's so funny and unassuming. Man, that guy's a gem! I can see why Megan Fox said he's her 'favourite person in the world'.
And as for the movie, I'd say three and a half stars. It was good, but not fantastic. Very fluffy, very plot-driven. I have nothing against this type of movies, of course, since chick flicks are just as fluffy and plot-driven. But I thought there was way too many explosions and collisions. Plus, it didn't seem ... real. Like, if those machines (okay, autobots) were so heavy, wouldn't all those roads snap everywhere they go? I mean, there are always sparks and ground-shaking everytime those autobots move. Anyway. I gave it three and a half stars because compared to something like LOTR, which is irrefutably 5-star material, that's all it's worth. I enjoyed Revenge of the Fallen, but it's just like MI3, action and cars and explosions and girls (I did not need to see Megan Fox's ass or cleavage, or her Collagen-injected lips that she kept pouting nonstop throughout the movie). It's a boy movie.
Speaking of LOTR, I've been setting The Breaking of the Fellowship on replay mode the whole day. It's on my playlist (the gray one, right at the bottom of the list), so go watch the movie (if you haven't, my goodness) and then listen to it. It's the sort of music that brings you to tears. And I'm going to watch Fellowship again now. Gotta love the Shire. Later.
Oh, and that skank from Transformers (not Megan, the other one who was hitting on Sam in college, the one with the diesel-tasting freaky tongue) reminded me of this Victoria's Secret model, Doutzen Kroes. She just kinda looks like her, is all.
And I'm not saying I'm crushing on Shia now. He's just cute, you know? The kind that you'd love to be around, because he seems so innocent and not about to hit on you all the time. Plus, he's so funny and unassuming. Man, that guy's a gem! I can see why Megan Fox said he's her 'favourite person in the world'.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
I really should post something. Only I don't have anything worth telling. Work on the sales floor for Mango's end-of-season sales, aching feet, et cetera. I don't want to seem like a whiner. At least I'm not working anymore. And I've decided to take my driving test - finally. My dad's been bugging me to take it since school ended, and I've put it off for this long. Yes, I know, I'm a horrible daughter. But hopefully, I can get it all over and done with by the time semester starts.
And in three weeks, semester will start. I can't wait. I cannot wait. Just think of all the classes to attend, the extra modules to take - Creative Writing, languages, etc. Think of how I can employ my brain again, instead of rotting in front of the computer playing Solitaire everyday. Not that I don't appreciate all this free time. Flexible hours are so hard to come by, and I'm so glad I have this holiday to do whatever I want, anytime I want. But how cool would a Creative Writing module be? I. Cannot. Wait.
That said, however, the whole bidding system is really, really troublesome. So much administrative work to do beforehand. Medical checkup, application for CPF and Tuition Grant, application to pay miscellaneous fees by GIRO, registration and, of course, course bidding (not just one round, but rounds 0, 1a, 1b, 1c, 2a, 2b, etc).
Much as I'm excited for school to start, I still have some misgivings about it. I always thought I don't belong in uni, you see. Everyone there's cool and smart and confident and outgoing, and I'm like this weird little hermit who doesn't talk to people and goes everywhere alone. I'm hoping uni will rid me of this problem, and I'll not turn out to be some maladjusted adult who ends up throwing herself off a building because the growing loneliness in her life crushes her spirit.
And I know I made this oath to myself that I'll not be so boy-crazy anymore and just ignore the hotties, or at least act like they're not worth looking at, but this guy at the pool today was ... WOOOOOOW. My goodness, I almost had a seizure in the water. The pool was 1.2m deep, where we both stood, so I could see his pecs. Omfg O.O Those shoulder muscles (and you know how I'm a sucker for guys with contoured shoulder muscles; they just look so good under a t-shirt), that tan, that strong jawline and cheekbones, those pecs. That guy is on fire. Seriously, he has the hottest body I've ever seen on a Singaporean guy (he looks Singaporean, okay?), and his face isn't too bad either. Pretty darn good, I'd even say. This amount of hotness is absolutely criminal. And he swam like a fish, too. I was so fuelled just by looking at him that I swam more than my usual. YUMMMEEEEEEEEEE. Man, I hope he'll be there everyday after this. I'd gladly swim a marathon just to see THAT. Yessir, I will.
Okay. Now that I've gotten that out of my system ... I should go for my haircut now. Till next time ;)
And in three weeks, semester will start. I can't wait. I cannot wait. Just think of all the classes to attend, the extra modules to take - Creative Writing, languages, etc. Think of how I can employ my brain again, instead of rotting in front of the computer playing Solitaire everyday. Not that I don't appreciate all this free time. Flexible hours are so hard to come by, and I'm so glad I have this holiday to do whatever I want, anytime I want. But how cool would a Creative Writing module be? I. Cannot. Wait.
That said, however, the whole bidding system is really, really troublesome. So much administrative work to do beforehand. Medical checkup, application for CPF and Tuition Grant, application to pay miscellaneous fees by GIRO, registration and, of course, course bidding (not just one round, but rounds 0, 1a, 1b, 1c, 2a, 2b, etc).
Much as I'm excited for school to start, I still have some misgivings about it. I always thought I don't belong in uni, you see. Everyone there's cool and smart and confident and outgoing, and I'm like this weird little hermit who doesn't talk to people and goes everywhere alone. I'm hoping uni will rid me of this problem, and I'll not turn out to be some maladjusted adult who ends up throwing herself off a building because the growing loneliness in her life crushes her spirit.
And I know I made this oath to myself that I'll not be so boy-crazy anymore and just ignore the hotties, or at least act like they're not worth looking at, but this guy at the pool today was ... WOOOOOOW. My goodness, I almost had a seizure in the water. The pool was 1.2m deep, where we both stood, so I could see his pecs. Omfg O.O Those shoulder muscles (and you know how I'm a sucker for guys with contoured shoulder muscles; they just look so good under a t-shirt), that tan, that strong jawline and cheekbones, those pecs. That guy is on fire. Seriously, he has the hottest body I've ever seen on a Singaporean guy (he looks Singaporean, okay?), and his face isn't too bad either. Pretty darn good, I'd even say. This amount of hotness is absolutely criminal. And he swam like a fish, too. I was so fuelled just by looking at him that I swam more than my usual. YUMMMEEEEEEEEEE. Man, I hope he'll be there everyday after this. I'd gladly swim a marathon just to see THAT. Yessir, I will.
Okay. Now that I've gotten that out of my system ... I should go for my haircut now. Till next time ;)
Monday, July 06, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Priceless quotes from Megan Fox:
"They're boys; they're easily toyed with. I tell stories and have them eating out of my hand."
"Hollywood is the most superficial thing you could possibly be a part of and if I weren't attractive I wouldn't be working at all."
"I don't trust male intentions, usually, because they don't approach me for intellectual conversation."
"Boys in their twenties are a waste of time. They have nothing to offer conversationally; they're immature. I feel like I have a better shot with someone in his thirties."
"[Director Michael Bay] doesn't like really skinny actresses. He's been traumatized by them for some reason in the past. So I always try to put on eight to ten pounds before [filming], and I'm always the fattest I've ever been when making a Transformers (2007) movie."
"I think one day I could be a very good actress. But so far, I haven't done anything."
"I played with Barbies but I used to decapitate them. I used to take their heads off then dye their hair and do weird things."
"When you think about it, we actors are kind of prostitutes. We get paid to feign attraction and love. Other people are paying to watch us kissing someone, touching someone, doing things people in a normal monogamous relationship would never do with anyone who's not their partner. It's really kind of gross."
"I do have a 22-inch waist, I will say that."
"They're boys; they're easily toyed with. I tell stories and have them eating out of my hand."
"Hollywood is the most superficial thing you could possibly be a part of and if I weren't attractive I wouldn't be working at all."
"I don't trust male intentions, usually, because they don't approach me for intellectual conversation."
"Boys in their twenties are a waste of time. They have nothing to offer conversationally; they're immature. I feel like I have a better shot with someone in his thirties."
"[Director Michael Bay] doesn't like really skinny actresses. He's been traumatized by them for some reason in the past. So I always try to put on eight to ten pounds before [filming], and I'm always the fattest I've ever been when making a Transformers (2007) movie."
"I think one day I could be a very good actress. But so far, I haven't done anything."
"I played with Barbies but I used to decapitate them. I used to take their heads off then dye their hair and do weird things."
"When you think about it, we actors are kind of prostitutes. We get paid to feign attraction and love. Other people are paying to watch us kissing someone, touching someone, doing things people in a normal monogamous relationship would never do with anyone who's not their partner. It's really kind of gross."
"I do have a 22-inch waist, I will say that."
Friday, June 26, 2009
Something made me get out of bed this morning to turn on the radio. I had no idea what made me do it, but I just felt the need to all of a sudden. And then I heard it. Farrah Fawcett has died of cancer and Michael Jackson of a cardiac arrest. It's just so shocking. I didn't believe MJ was dead. He had such great plans for a comeback, all the entrance on elephants and the works, and suddenly there is just no more need for that.
I'm sad that he's dead, and I'm sad that such a legendary performer has passed, but I'm sadder because I don't think he enjoyed his life very much. He was thrown into the spotlight and, subsequently, phenomenal stardom at a young age. All the papparrazi, all the being poked fun of because of his cosmetic surgeries, all the instances of invasion of privacy, all the false allegations and reports and petty rumours about him and his child abusive tendencies, and then his money running out, which made him desperate for a comeback. He said once that as long as one enters this world knowing that he's loved - and leaves knowing the same thing - then whatever happens in between doesn't matter. But I wonder if he left knowing if he's loved.
My dad's really sad about MJ's passing. He told me he grew up with him, in a way. MJ was born in 1958, my dad in 1959, and my dad has all his records, and we used to watch the music videos together when I was young. I remember I was sick one day, and my dad was on leave for a day, so we watched it. 'Black or White' was my favourite MV - 'Billy Jean' my favourite MJ song - and I was impressed by how elaborate MJ's music videos were.
Rest in peace, King of Pop. Your legacy will live on. And also to Farrah Fawcett, one-third of the Charlie's Angels (original version), famous for her big, blowsy blonde
hair.
hair.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I don't know if I should switch over to my other blog, words-unravelled.blogspot.com.
I like people to comment on my posts, but because of some lovely taggers, I had to tear down the tagboard. Besides, I prefer comments, not just random messages on the tagboard.
So should I? Then I'd have to transfer ALL my links over. And Blogger only allows me to do it one at a time. Jeez.
Plus, I like the picture on my blog. I still think it looks so chic, despite what Ger and Jerm say. And I don't think I can post my playlist on my other template, can I?
Oh, you know what. Forget it. I'll just stick to this one. Thanks for your help!
I like people to comment on my posts, but because of some lovely taggers, I had to tear down the tagboard. Besides, I prefer comments, not just random messages on the tagboard.
So should I? Then I'd have to transfer ALL my links over. And Blogger only allows me to do it one at a time. Jeez.
Plus, I like the picture on my blog. I still think it looks so chic, despite what Ger and Jerm say. And I don't think I can post my playlist on my other template, can I?
Oh, you know what. Forget it. I'll just stick to this one. Thanks for your help!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
This is how I imagine Wroughton to be like. The first three photos were taken around the pool near my house. The other three were taken last December, when dad and I went to Safra chalet at Tanah Merah. It was bliss. I woke up early everyday to write and jog. Good times. And Lilies is associated with that.
(By the way, the photos aren't actually that drained of colour. I think Blogger does that. So for better quality, click on the pictures themselves.)
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