Chaotic isn't it?
When internal struggles physicalises and ever so vocally declare it's presence.
I am not used to being on the other side.
The side that is down will such ill luck,
getting tested by someone who isn't at all polite.
How am I supposed to just keep silent when he stands there,
all imposing, the evil eye staring out at me-challenging me.
He, the biased one, ever so deadly serious,
staring at me, AT me.
That moment, I wanted to grab something, anything, and smash it on his face.
He didn't intend to let me pass in the first place.
So why waste my time, and oh yes, why waste your highness' precious time.
You should be going home early,
and feed your 12 parots and 27 cats and 44 dogs - your so-called family.
Can't believe you mister!
Do hope she shines upon me tomorrow.
Grant me someone wider, nicer and all-round, better.
A more wholesome one,
please.
I've received more than I can take.
And it is no longer funny.

Such torment, insult, rapid.
Can't control it, speedy entity.
Powerful decisions, effective arrest.
Such is luck,
a tempest within, a storm brews.
It is out of my reach, out of my designation to demand-
such is the vast magnitude of luck.
Scarlet nails,
blood-dyed lips.
Where she comes, no one knows.
And where she touches is where the spring blooms.
Demand? No
Request? No
Just prayers,
     and a bit of luck?

Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we pray, we desire and we wish, things just don't go our way. I mean, it is normal isnt it. Things, yes, happenings are not controlled by our mere desires. We are, fundamentally, biological beings-not celestal and surely not holy. Such are the facts of life that we have to deal with, to swallow up and to assimilate. People less, or more, deserving will always be arounds, decorating our misery with spacks of anger and ill desires. Odin will be most happy. Bad thoughts, evil intentions and nightmares are the makings of such entities. Some feed on our vices while others wait and watch. Maybe we are all chess pieces, getting manipulated, or maybe we are just too sensitive, noting too much this world which, might be, only fueled with science and math. Not the spiritual and not the emotional. Maybe.

But how can that be?

On a different note, I love love love love giving tuition! Like seriously. I guess some are just born to be educationists-not to say that I'm a great educator, but that I love doing it and will keep doing it. There are many ways to benefit the society, and I've found me calling-rather a long long time ago I have.

Now, I still need to choose university. Advice? Anyone?

I saw this once,
A dead sparrow; alone of the streets.
Very soon, a few other sparrows (living ones) were circling the dead mate.
From afar, I thought the sparrows were eating their dead friend,
biting and chewing on his innards and picking at his brain.
But no.
I moved forward, the sparrows were actually jumping about, chirping about.
Directed towards the dead one.
They were trying to wake the poor bird up,
moving around him, talking to him.
But like all good stories, a twist.
A car came, headlights shining bright.
The speeding machine approached the convent of birds,
and
      stopped.
The driver, in shiny suit, wearing an expansive watch walked out,
went towards the sparrow,
and moved him away from the road.
The driver, Mr-goodness, moved the bird.
I stood there, not making a sound, almost not breathing.
But the suited man will never know,
that he moved more than the bird.
He moved me
      to tears.

A little tough, life is. Bike course is really getting on my nerves, not motivated by desires to do well no more, rather, by hopes of not getting extra training. I guess I am sensitive to teaching practices but really, our dearest force cannot teach. I am trying not to use sensitive words here... They really can't teach. Screaming and shouting isn't teaching, it is plain barbaric. We find ourselves getting annoyed more often then motivated. So please, get some help and start teaching the way teaching is made to be!

Some messaging with a senior has brought me many insights about a certain UK university. I guess many of us have lofty dreams, dreams of high piling cash and impressive job-scopes. But I guess the truth of it is that many of us are unwilling to take a step back and reexamine the true purpose of our existence. I mean, this is cliché and all, but there must be a rationale, a destination waiting to be discovered by each and every one of us. Most of it will not be wonderful things like being the president or leading a pack of cultists to their death bed. Mostly, it would revolve around mundane principles such as being a great Mother or fighting with a room mate for more room space. Truth is, hard as it is to accept, most of us aren't made THAT special. I know mommy also said that we are each special and have great things to accomplish in life, but for every Kung Fu Panda there needs to be 5 ‘Fiery 5' who really were accompanying elements. Right? I understand that it isn't exactly an easy acceptance but that's that. That is why I think it is time we re-evaluate our reasons. Not everyone is made to be a doctor, lawyer, banker... Some of us are destined to do good deeds in plain polo-tees and faded jeans. Plain old Jane-s.

And friends, there are many small things in life that can cheer us, maybe for a short time yes but surely it will. For me, today, it is BodyShop's apple blossom body mist. Thank you BS!

IT exist, surely It does. IT has to, fr we all feel it.
IT acts alike gravity, pulling us around IT's centre,
with powerful persuasion, wordless, speechless.
IT cannot occupy space, but it dominates space.
IT makes the young cry and the aged weep.
For once IT moves, there ain't no return.
Thats, my friend, is MR TIme. IT is a constant,
A rumbling sound,
an entity, all reaching,
all destroying.
IT doesn't wait,
IT only makes us wait.


And I personally cannot wait for the bike course to end end end. The travelling is making me very very tired. I mean big time tired. I need a break, and I know I won't get one.

Very tired, and it makes concentrating on the road tough. And I can't push start the bike! ARGH! I need some mass...just a little.

Someone's calling me over, I know that voice.
But I can't say who.
Someone's whispering to me, in sweet phrases, what I should do.
She stopped.
And this is when we scream.

A risk, the direction defined.
Calculated, invested, anticipated.
Like I've said, delayed gratification yields the greatest of happiness.
And I will stay like this for a long long time.

Thank you JSS-everyone I've ever had contact with shaped the characteristic me. Teachers, some more so than others and my fellow councillors and ncc-guys. Cheers, for you made me.

Thank you ACJC, the college that made me believe in the possibility of a scholarship. Thank you Mrscreffield,Mswong,Mssangeetha,Mrsyap,MsMtang,MsEtay,MrKchua.

I quote, 'Education isn't the filling of a bucket, it is the lighting of a fire'.

Beautifully crafted, the experiencec of life,
such tough decisions, powerful emotions.
The split second of recollection,
the familiar pulse of desires.
Intonation, it intonates a earthly sound,
the world shivers as the room shakes.
Till a point where every cell in the body
sways to the beat of an ancient chant.
I forget the words,
though it matters not.
It is the rituals the give force
and form to the aged believe.
That Trust will be enliven again,
that hope in the future will grow.
The conception of wants was never meant to be
filled with sorrow and contemplation.
But delayed gratification as it is,
promises bursts of joyous release.
Think, feel, move, focus-
the inner beast of passion shell rise.
From ashes of civilisation,
like the fiery bird, adjacent wings.
Flight, powered with our inner rituals
of sound and beats and gestures,
shell restore the sacred balance.
Our wishes granted,
the passion set-afire.

-chin.

No, seriously, it isn't easy choosing a university is it?
I need to choose a UK uni like about now,
          and I've no clue.

So help, someone with sound advise, contact me please.
I really need to decide.
Though currently Warwick sounds very very very good. :]

And I completely love MOE!

Integrity, the Foundation + People, our Focus + Learning, our Passion + Excellence, our Pursuit.


But more importantly my dearest friends,

ChinHua, the teaching scholar(overseas) :]

Thank you, everyone.

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.

One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, 'What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?'

He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers: 'Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.'

To stress his point he said to another guest;
'You're a teacher, Bonnie. Be honest. What do you make?'


Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, 'You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

'Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make?' (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table.)

''I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them to write and then I make them write. Keyboarding isn't everything.

I make them read, read, read.

I make them show all their work in math. They use their God given brain, not the man-made calculator.

I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know in English while preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life.'

(Bonnie paused one last time and then continued.)

'Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant... You want to know what I make?

I MAKE A DIFFERENCE . What do you make Mr. CEO?'

His jaw dropped, he went silent.


========================================================


And dearest friends, Chin is about to make a difference... If you know what I mean. YEs friends, I got it. After all the waiting, I got it. However, the package isn't ready so I don't know the terms.

But I do feel most blessed.

I actually got it.

Thank You.

The motorcycle course has it's ups and downs, really! I mean, the SHEER WEIGHT of that shit creates it own gravity eh! The bike was falling on me and I tried to block the incoming onslaught using my body weight, hoping to form a inverted "V" shape and stopping the bike from falling. Didn't work. At all. The bike didn't even moved one inch!

Darn it.

But the last two rounds around the circuit was well worth it. The speed, yes the speed, the turns and the wind-completely wonderful. But it scares me a little knowing my life is dependant on myself. What a change.


And yes, the two scholarship boards have yet to send me anything!!! It was supposed to reach my hands within one week! Today's WEDNESDAY! Thats one week PLUS ONE DAY!
AH!!! I swear all scholarship providers secretly hate me. Big time. There must be this committee formed up to frame me. Seriously.

Help?!

Please, send me something already.
NOno, send me something GOOD already.

...and lets not forget the mystic creatures...

-out-

MOE Continues to Boost Support for Students with Special Needs in Mainstream Schools

1Another 33 schools will receive trained Special Needs Officers (SNOs) to support students with mild to moderate dyslexia and Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD) by mid-2009. This will bring the total number of schools that will be staffed with SNOs to 136 schools (105 primary schools and 31 secondary schools). MOE will continue to provide more schools with SNOs within the next few years.

2In addition to providing SNOs to schools, MOE also provides training in special needs education for 10% of teachers in primary schools and 20% of teachers in secondary schools. To date, around 1200 teachers have been trained in special needs and an additional 800 will be undergoing training in May 2008. The training enables teachers to better support students with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and speech and learning difficulties in their own schools. An estimated 2900 teachers will be trained between 2005 and 2010.

3These measures are part of MOE's continuing effort to provide resources to support students with special needs in primary and secondary schools.

4The list of 33 primary and secondary schools to be given resources for ASD and dyslexia support by mid-2009 can be found in Annex A.

5Feedback from schools that have benefited from the additional support of SNOs and resource teachers have been favourable. Mdm Lim Lan Chin, Principal, Seng Kang Primary School said, "Special Needs Officers are a good complement to the existing team of officers comprising Educational Psychologists, Guidance Officers, Reading Specialists, Full-time School Counsellors, Teacher Counsellors and Teachers trained in Special Needs. To begin with, SNOs' interest in helping children with special needs is a great start for the school community. Apart from providing smaller group intervention, they are a tremendous source of on-site support for special needs pupils, especially in integrating them into mainstream education."

6Ms Sum Chee Wah, Director, Educational Programmes Division said, "SNOs and teachers trained in Special Needs allow us to provide a school environment that gives the best possible educational support to students with dyslexia, ASD and other learning difficulties at all levels from primary through to post-secondary education. We are heartened by the dedication and perseverance that our SNOs and teachers have shown in helping students with special learning needs. The Ministry will continue to explore how we can enhance support to these students."

7Information on schools staffed with SNOs will be made available on the MOE website, and publications such as the Secondary One "Choosing Your Secondary School" Information Booklet. Students with special needs will go through the normal Primary One registration and Secondary One posting processes.

####Background

8The pioneer batch of schools that received SNOs to support students with special needs was announced in May 2005.

9The SNOs provide additional in-class support, small group specialised remedial work and/or skills training for students with mild to moderate learning difficulties. They complement the support that class teachers provide to these students.

10SNOs are required to have a minimum qualification of a diploma or a full GCE ‘A' level certificate. Some SNOs also have relevant experience in working with children with special needs. Applicants are also required to have good interpersonal skills and the passion to work with children with special needs. SNOs undergo a one year full-time Diploma in Special Education course conducted by the National Institute of Education (NIE). They will be deployed to mainstream schools resourced for ASD and dyslexia support after their professional training with NIE.





Additionally: http://www.moe.gov.sg/media/press/2008/03/assumption-pathway-school-to-s.php


Thats how it should be. :]:]

                        Pass 
                        the Butter, Please .
                            Margarine was originally manufactured
                        to fatten turkeys. When it killed the turkeys, the
                        people who had put all the money into the research
                        wanted a payback so they put their heads together to
                        figure out what to do with this product to get their
                        money back. It was a white substance with no food appeal
                        so they added the yellow coloring and sold it to people
                        to use in place of butter. How do you like it? They have
                        come out with some clever new flavorings.  
                         DO YOU
                        KNOW the difference
                        between margarine and butter?
                          Read on to the
                        end; it gets very interesting!   Both
                        have the same amount of
                        calories. Butter is slightly higher
                        in saturated fats at 8
                        grams compared
                        to 5
                        grams. Eating margarine can increase   heart
                        disease in women
                        by 53% over eating the
                        same amount of butter, according to a recent Harvard
                        Medical Study   Eating butter increases
                        the absorption of many other
                        nutrients in other
                        foods. Butter has
                        many nutritional
                        benefits where margarine has
                        a few only
                        because they are added! Butter tastes much
                        better than margarine
                        and it can enhance the flavors of other
                        foods. Butter has been
                        around for centuries where margarine has been
                        around for less than 100
                        years . And now, for
                        Margarine... Very high in
                        trans fatty
                        acids. Triple risk
                        of coronary heart
                        disease . Increases
                        total chol esterol and LDL (this is
                        the bad cholesterol) and lowers HDL cholesterol (the
                        good cholesterol) Increases the
                        risk of cancers up to five fold. Lowers
                        quality of breast
                        milk. Decreases
                        immune response. Decreases insulin response. And here's the
                        most disturbing fact; HERE IS THE PART THAT IS VERY
                        INTERESTING ! Margarine is
                        but ONE
                        MOLECULE away from
                        being PLASTIC. This fact
                        alone was enough to have me avoiding margarine for life
                        and anything else that is hydrogenated (this means
                        hydrogen is added, changing the molecular structure of
                        the substance).    You can try
                        this yourself: Purchase a
                        tub of margarine and leave it in your garage or shaded
                        area. Within a couple of days you will note a couple of
                        things:   *
                         no flies, not even those pesky fruit flies will go
                        near it  (that  should tell you
                        something)  *
                         it does not rot or smell differently because it
                        has no nutritional
                         value; nothing will
                        grow on it. Even those teeny weenie microorganisms will
                        not a find a home to grow.  Why?  
                        Because it is nearly
                        plastic .
                         Would you melt your Tupperware and spread that on
                        your toast?  & nbsp;Share This
                        With Your Friends (if you want to 'butter them
                        up')! Chinese
                        Proverb: 'When someone
                        shares something of value with you and you benefit from
                        it, you have a moral obligation to share it with
                        others.'

Thanks to Barnabus!

The bike course is about to start, I am extremely excited to be able to learn yet again. But I would be lying to claim no inhibitions.
I have to say, the journeying would be hell.
Hell indeed, I do live on the other side of the island.
But I guess I should treat it as a break,
a small end to the constant nothingness at the unit.
And a huge rest from the barking from a certain someone.
Indeed, with much appreciation, I accept the course.

But I have to say that I was most delighted when I managed to touch the floor whilst on the bike. Note that it ain't a small bike, but a huge, tall monster of a Honda bike.
Sing praise!

I worry, however, about the course of study I will enbark on in 2 years time.
Yes, I digress.
Having given it much thought, I've told some that it isn't a job per se that I'm looking for. Rather, it is an atmosphere, an experience and a platform where I can effect changes. Big/small, beneficial changes. And yes, I'm most surprised at my own desire to help people, to change circumstances. Never have I given myself such a pleasent surprise. I do reinvent.
And that eventually leads to the issue of scholarships.
I finished the MOE and MCYS interview, yes.
And now I can only hope for the best. I do think I have inclination towards education, for the answers came so easily, with such fierce fluidity that I was taken aback.
I came out of the interview room thinking that I've once again surprised myself. I guess the learning curve never stops, it doesn't even slacken but gets even steeper.
Now, the moment I booked out, I wanted to check my mail, both electronic and physical
Nothing there.
Okay, maybe there's still a chance?
But stella said it will come within a week!
And today's Saturday, nothing yet...
I went for the interview on a Tuesday.
I am running out of time, and I am almost entirely out of fuel. PSC and MOE selection process has completely drained me. And I am completely outta faith.
The charisma I once thought I had has somehow, leaked away. A drop at a time. Currently, I feel completele naked and incompetent. Utterly ineffectual.
So if the package doesn't come on tuesday, I swear something's going to snap in me.
Something's going to die. To be dismised, to depart, vacate, retire.
And I won't even try grabbing it.
For it has all the reasons to leave me. I've failed it, I've failed my expectation, a personified being in me. Failed it big time.

And now I need to sleep.
In all good will, I thank everyone who has ever interviewed me. I did my best, and for one, I never lied to any interviewer. That I say with my head held high. I will never receive something if I know I don't deserve it.




At least, if I really get no scholarship, I know....



that I'm accurately inadequate.

You will understand, only if you've encountered him.
Accept the true, be courageous and embrace it.
Darkness isn't the mere absence of light, far from that.
When the Moon rises-and the Sun dies; insomnia comes to work.
Hiding in plain sight, in it's domain of the shades.
Like thick air, no-glue, no-fumes; like blood,
it oozes.
Breathe in, small inhalations and please don't pant
or huff, puff, you'll go down.
He envelopes, like wings ending with deadly talons,
grabbing on to our consciousness and refusing to let go.
You shut your eyes, relax your body and silent your mind.
Pointless-
insomnia takes who ever he wants.
No argument, no discussion and surely no sympathy.
Tic-toc, tic-toc, the rhythmic sound of nothingness,
of incomprehensible fear of the oldest origin.

But not all's lost.
A defender rises from the artic south each night.
Armed with beads of yellow treasure, the gift of the night;
he bravely enters the demonic domain of the ill.
With might, he reaches into his pouch and gathers his jewels-
but calculative he is, there isn't enough to waste.
He peppers the demonic manifestation of unrest with
the gift of lady Moon.
Earthly sand of cosmic derivation shines.
Sandman risks his life and his gifts,
for us, the ungrateful beings.

An episode 3, a compulsory element of the nightly ritual,
it completes the trilogy, ending the sour battle.
A collector comes, a scavenger of the highest order.
Or a historian, some calls.
He gathers the sand and places them in a special jeweled box.
His pride, his dedication; these sand beads fuel him.
He records the scuffle with physical proves.
But he leaves just a bit of sand near the eyes,

To sting us, to remind us, to make us believe.
That every night, a warrior defends our sleep.
The fiendish insomnia attacks everyone, every night.
But the ancient protector, a paladin brawls in our name.
Though sometimes he fails, and we are reduced to angst and madness,
      thank the aged guardian, and pray for his deliverance.

 

This is the price he has to pay, a prisoner no doubt.
Sandman cries all day, and fights all night.
His only friend, the historian.
Because of a sin worst of it's kind.
The sandman pays with nightly fights.
That's what happens to those who fall.
To Judas and to Lucifer,
that's the price of betrayer.
Those golden runes of sand reminds us,
      to behave yourselves, for there are worst punishment than death.

-Chin

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4TN5umzSnFU - This is actually good, go Paula Abdul!!
Alike Janet Jackson eh, the disco divas are coming back out. Time to show skinny asses like paris how to do a dance track.
:]

Alright, everyone should read Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman.
Vivid imagination, very vocalised characters and nicely twisted. Beautiful, read it. His perspectives are wonderful, and knows exactly how to enchance the senses to feel, see, hear and question his plot. Layer apon layer, he builds the suspense and our anticipation of the end. Though we never really want it to end.

So read it.

So silently he creeps up the alley-way,
so secretive, so mobile yet so conspicuous.
The cheerful morning, the bright sun-
      the lovely whispers of kindness entices him close.
He steps forward, meeting the test.
There are people born different, not genes not looks-
       rather, they are like spirits.
He stands there, but he isn't quite there.
White noise-
       can we really hear them?
An aura, we can feel them,
       magnetism, we can sense them.
Made singular, they slither amongst us,
like a panther, they stalk us.
Tailing our trail, these people smell blood,
        not exactly that, they bring blood.
No damned reasons.
Toying with a gun in his hand, he smiles.
The cheerful morning, the bright sun-
      the lovely whispers of kindness entices him close.
But inside, there is no sun, no kindness, no lovely whispers,
      only demons, and Judas and darkness.
He's the minion.
"There must be a reason", he screams-
      and fires off.
Bright light, a flash of clarity,
such contrast with his inner dimness.
"There isn't".
Some are just born different, maybe it's the genes,
maybe it's their looks.
They walk beside us, bearing the scars of iniquity.
They must exist,
       for they make us normal.
Normal is expressed as an inversion -
       a reflection of the anomalous.
We term it as psychosis,
       to them, it is normalcy.
What have I done?
Slowly, he pulled back the gun-
       someone falls to the ground.
White noises, that's what they hear.
What have.....
White noises, that's what the psychotic hears.
Or are they just outraged?

No, seriously, my readership is horrid. Come on, start reading my shoutposts... I haven't even hit the 6000 visitor mark! So come on, tell others about my shoutpost!

Please?
Please?

I was thinking last night about my bike course, and yes friends, Chin thinks!... Quite a lot actually.
And I was rather worried about it. Not just the course per se, rather, it is me leaving the rest for 5 weeks. No no, don't get this wrong, I am not a sentimental person who will cry knowing that I have to leave my fellow signallers for 5 weeks, far from that eh. It isn't to say that I am heartless eh, just not that emotional...

So what exactly is making me worried? It is the fact that I'll leave SIR for 5 weeks, so my best-est friend Mr.Shitface will be under no moderation. And he will throw his weight around with no one to show him how stupid his questions and challenges are. Someone need to constantly tell him where he stands-in a pile of shit. So what I fear it that the commanders will start to notice him more and more because he is the king of wayang'ing. They might actually think that he is capable, oh my, the illusion of the year.
And the worst thing is that, when I eventually return from the course, he will be made up entirely of ego, arrogrance and ignorance. How can we ever stand that then?
So someone need to volunteer to show him his place, and kicks in his arse whenever it is needed. Seriously!
I need a volunteer!

And like I've told some, he has his ambitions and dreams. But friends, the faculty that he needs to go in hasn't even offered him a place. And I am darn sure that faculty has finished sending their invites. BOO!!!

I need a breather.
The only advantage associated with the bike course is his absence. Thank Shiva for it.
:]

My first attempt... Here goes nothing:

=============================================

I believe I can recall a time, say 5 years ago, when I was in love with my job. However, as time went pass, the concept of a community pharmacist became less alluring. The job was still as fulfilling, that was without a doubt-the lack of a fruitful love life was the main cause of demise. Due to professional commitment and the fact that I'm the only local pharmacist, I can hardly find time to make any friends at all.

On the 6^th of June I recall a certain special incident that I believe changed my life. It definitely rekindled passion in my job once again. I felt enliven.

She walked in, gorgeously brown hair and a sharp angular nose that sparked a hint of defiance. Her eyes seem to be intensely looking around the room, almost animal-like, reminding me of a bright-eyed scavenger. Skin hugging black dress, simply designed with dilapidated and frayed skirt ends and a pair of blood red heels highlighted her supple and soft skin. But it was her eyes, her eyes that captured me. Those charming green eyes instantly encaged me.

She spoke, and I was lost in paradise. Her name was Tabitha, not local. She told me that she was suffering from type 2 diabetes and would require Amaryl, a once in day sulfonylurea. However, she was unable to produce a prescription notice from a medical doctor. I told her I might not be able to provide her with the drug if she cannot give me the empowerment letter as I was not about to go against my professional ethics. As soon as these words left my eyes, I regretted it. She eyes flared up for a moment, and I was sure I saw an old woman's glare. I looked harder and her face instantly softened - her soulful eyes turned watery (almost too quickly to be true) and the nose starting twitching with the first sign of a powerful sob. That image was so evocatively heartbreaking that I swear I could have pinched myself for making up that old woman face. How can she possibly be any less beautiful! A multitude of thoughts ran through my head, some personal and others, principled. Tabitha started to turn the other way and I knew I have only a total of 2 seconds to decide a possibly life-changing verdict. I asked her to stop. Once again, somehow, her face which was filled with sorrow a moment ago almost magically lit up. Her splendor seems to dull my professional morals and I told her I trust her. After handing over exactly 7 pills of Amaryl, I asked Tabitha to write down her particulars including her personal number and address. I tried to sound as personal as possible when demanding the details though it was a completely personal request. I have a feeling she knew about my intentions. As she left the pharmacy, I knew inside that this will not be the last time I'll see her. Not just because I am the only pharmacist nearby but also because I only gave her enough Amaryl for a week.

Tabitha came back 2 days later, asking for more Amaryl. This time, she looked a little sickly. I was concerned not just because she looked under par, but also because she finished a week's worth of pancreas affecting drugs in two days. This cannot be good for her liver and pancreas. I asked her if she was following my recommended dosage and she firmly but politely told me she knows her body best and assured that I not worry. I obligated.

During the following 3 weeks, Tabitha came to me once every two of three days. We became very close friends and would go for movie and dinner after the first few meetings. Whenever she comes to my pharmacy to buy more drugs, she would look sicklier than before. However, during the many occasions when we would meet up again in the evening, she would look just as dazzling as when I first saw her. I never questioned her, knowing that some girls are just not morning creatures - maybe I should have.

In those three magical weeks, Tabitha and I became best of friends. I would share with her my personal, inner-most thoughts and she would gladly listen. However, I never pressed her to reveal to me more about her, though I am not a relationship-guru, I have read my share of dating for idiots. I noted that in those particular three weeks, my luck was apparently very good. A major broadcasting station for free-to-air television chose my pharmacy as a setting for the latest teenage drama revolving sex, drugs and cosmetic surgery. I was most surprised to see increase in the sales of drugs in my pharmacy. I know it sounds strange that such publicity would work for a drug store but it did. I sold more than normal amounts of Paracetamol and charcoal pills. Both are widely available drugs but somehow, everyone seemed to be getting their share from Chin's pharmacy! Additionally, my ailing cat seemed to be getting better. She started sashaying around my apartment in her cat-like manner once again. I don't always see Moxie the cat though, I give her enough food before I head out to work and see her only after my shower late at night. Moxie is a very smart cat, she usually heads out to explore if she is feeling well and enter my apartment through a window near the kitchen. Another particularly interesting fact that I recall was the disappearance of the dogs in my district. My area used to be exaggeratedly engaged with stray dogs. Recently, these dogs either died or started to move out. I really do not care which the case is, I have never liked dogs anyways.

Then it all changed. I was down with a bad case of lung infection and after an initial stay at the hospital, was given 4 weeks medical leave. I called in a friend of mine, another pharmacist to seat in for me. I needed the money from the drug store. Originally, Tabitha would visit me every other day. But as the days dragged to weeks, her visits became less frequent. She told me that she is not feeling very well, particularly because David, the stand-in pharmacist refuse to provide her with the much needed Amaryl. As I was still very week and needed help to move, I have David a pair of keys to my house.

I tried calling David to plea that he dispenses Amaryl to Tabby but he is unwilling to risk his professional reputation. He isn't the type to take risks. Additionally, I know that Tabitha would not be able to charm him given how she looks in the morning, commit to memory that Tabitha isn't a morning person-not at all. Those weeks were bad not just for Tabitha but also for my store. I found out through David that the teenage drama using my drug store somehow portrayed the drugs in my store as ill-gotten impure drugs that caused the death of one of the many anorexic teenage girl in that show. Sales were bad, in fact, they were horrid.

So after resting in bed for about 2 weeks, I regained enough strength to visit the pharmacy on the pretense of looking through the nasty accounts. In fact, I was stealing Amaryl for Tabby. Alright, it can hardly be considered stealing at all; those pills are mine to start with! I took a cab to where Tabitha stays. It is amazing how after so many weeks, I have never been to her house. And the only way I knew where I was heading was from the particulars form I asked Tabby to fill up during 06062006.

I reached her house and was most shocked. It was a run down one room flat that smelt like incense. The corridor was untidy and the place looked haunted almost. I laughed that thought off. I ringed the door bell but no one opened the door. I could distinctively hear chanting from outside. I was almost sure I got the wrong address. Just as I was about to leave, I saw that the window was not locked proper. I crept up out of pure curiosity and peered into the house.

A Witch. I saw a Witch. She was wearing a black dress that seemed too small for the old woman. Her face wrinkled so much it reminded me of orange skin. Her eyes were an ill shade of dirty green and her nose, her nose must have been broken at 4 or 5 points for it is crooked beyond possibility. The Witch's mouth was bleeding and in front of her was a saucepan, the type we make pasta sauces with. She was holding the half eaten body of a dog still winching and bleeding all over. I gasped and in an instant, The Witch stared right at me. I quickly let go of the window plane and started to run for my life. Just then, I tripped and as I regained control and balance, I turned over to see what was tripped me. It was a pair of bloody-red heels.

I spent the afternoon among people in a mall. I couldn't stand being alone for even one second. That glare, that smell and the dog.

My phone rang, and it was David, I picked it up. He was at my place. He became worried when no one picked up his call to my house so he went to take a look. He entered the room with the spare keys I have provided him previously. He told me Moxie my cat was on the sofa and her mouth was somehow covered with blood. He said he washed Moxie up and decided to give me a call as he was worried. I asked to stay at his place that night and he agreed though I made him promise not to ask me why. As I was heading to his place, I sent him a text message which reads:

Don't bring that cat along.

His reply:

Nah, not to worry, she's in my car now and is really well behaved. I never knew you worried about Moxie stretching my car!

======================================================

PS: Tabitha was a sitcom about a young witch learning to control her powers.
[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tabitha_(TV_series)

      The date was 06062006 which contains the numbers 666.

      DOG|GOD

For years on, illusionists made use of mirrors, to distract, to inhibit belief, to challenge physics and to, most of all, deceive. This is no degradation of a magician's might, or his control of our minds. Mirrors, at the right angles, placed ajar, can create things that aren't there. Or best of all, make things that are there seem like they are not. A box beautifully designed hides the dove or rabbit hidden within.

And with that spectacular puff of smoke, nicely scented, dreams are formed.
Just like that, how very intangible.

But that is the exact composition of life, of dreams, of hopes and of desires.
Mirrors and smoke. Nicely scented.... I insist.

But isn't it this exact dillusional possibility of happenings that we call dream?

Indeed. Ever so important on the surface, something that drives us on, to motivate us.

But really, are they truely concrete. Or is it once again a societal construct? A illusion of mirrors and smoke (once again, scented please)...

Then we consider, what is reality?
What exactly are we living in?

I'll tell you,


reality is like the backstage.
More mirrors, and smoke. But this time, they aren't scented at all. Infact it smells bad...


-Things don't always go our way eh?
 And sometimes, we'll hold on to the dream of a better tomorrow.
 Sometimes, we breathe in deep, trying to retain the scent, the designed smell.


-But more often, we just smile it off.
 I'll just smile it off. Because it isn't fair to burden others.
 So let's not equate a happy person to a delighted soul. It isn't so.

-It takes hard work friends.
 It takes tough acceptance that I'm eventually, just like any body else.
 Not the superman I thought I could be.

Normalcy...

I COMPLETELY can't stand that sonnabitch.
Seriously. I don't think I have ever felt so strongly for someone ever, ever!
I mean, as long as his presence is felt, I feel my mouth twich with the desire to bad-mouth him.
Oh my, I mean, he totally didn't need that ego boost - now he'll really think he is the best of all of us.
HELLO!?!?

Get a mirror, and a bag to punk in please...

Stop looking all proud and shit, and stop acting all capable and all for it aint working buddy. Not at all, it only gets on people's nerves that you think you know everything.

And btw, beijng polite never harms you know...

You need to bloody wakeup before you find something shove up your ear-hole.
STOP IT.
It is making me most annoyed..

And BTW, you don't bloody hell tell ME what to frigging do. I bloody have a brain and I use it far more than you do. So when I do things, it gets done, plain and simple. So don't come complicate things and ACT IMPORTANT by questioning my actions, we bloody hell don't benefit from it.

It would be good if you can just keep that gap shut.
Really shut.
Because right now, that annoying gap is gasping wide.
And it behaves just like 7-11







it's always open...

It dons (okay that's too gentle a word, howabout "bombarded upon my existence) on me that the postulation I have made for myself for,easily, the last 4 years seems to be so light. So misty and weight-less. I have concluded that the path is what I really want to do. That it is in my blood and my soul to do just that. But, things happened and I suddenly realised that doing that isn't exactly what I want to do.
No, no. I'm not against doing that, just that I believe my own faith on why I want to do that exactly is mistaken.

I'm a friggin' hypocrite.

I know one thing for sure, that I care about people. That I get affected when I watch the news or read the papers and I see people suffering. That I know I shouldn't be doing nothing about it. All these I know,knew. But blindsighted by my conjecture regarding my future, I throw that concept into the wind. And I sent it miles away from me, on an ultra-fast plane.

That is not to day that I wouldn't want to do that anymore. If I get the right offers, I still will. However, the reason why I would do that has changed, big time. Actually, it has remained constant, the only change is my awareness of it. My ignorance of the situation my mind is painting results in my utter lack of understanding, intra-personal understanding. I need to learn more about mysel. Seriously.

But at least now I know why..and I know that both my options will enliven me greatly.
           You are now witnessing a transformation.
Either drugs or books,
           I'll do what I was made to do...


...make a difference.








So now I weigh my choices, drugs or books.
Only some will understand what on earth I'm talking about.
But I will need to decide. And there are many factors. Many unparallel elements to consider and great repercussions to understand-and visualise. I do have a side I'm leaning towards though I hate to admit it. I can't believe it has taken me so many chance events to finally learn about myself. I can't understand what I was trying to hide from...myself.

And that changes tonight.
It all changes tonight.



-And I will choose.

Ever wondered why dance is so very special? Ever pondered over why dance is so emotive and connective?
This is why,

because dance epitomes powerful muscular story-telling. Dances creates a motor reflex/reaction in her audience and this reduces the gap between the performer and the audience. Some dances are worth watching over and over again, like this one:
 http://youtube.com/watch?v=BqhDOHT5N_g&feature=related .
Kinetic beauty is very much captured in this dance sequence and the dancers are all very committed, at least physically they are. We have no way to addressing the dancers' state of mind or mental intensity given the genre of the dance. But, the movements are so beautiful, so well crafted and so intense I have to watch it over and over again. There is also powerful use of beats and emphasis, the concept of weight-shifting to achieve intended muscularity.

And this is the real reason why dance is great:
 the dancers' flexibility or bodily control. Not every dance requires the dancer to be graceful or strong in their movement. Some dances, like this one:
 http://youtube.com/watch?v=Fz8afb8THbA&feature=related
requires a different kind of intend.
The dancer has to lok purposefully ugly. Tensed muscles. immense control and knowledge of the body is essential. There is a gradual degradation of the basic assumption of a human-form. This ugliness reflects life on many levels too.

Thus, dance is great.

PS: on a side note, I think she did a great job here:
  http://youtube.com/watch?v=ViZfZCqqjP0

Alright, I know the last one isn't a dance... Don't shoot me just for that!

-out.

Let us take a little moment from our packed schedule (or thought-to-be-packed daily routine) and give a thought for the ones in Burna and China.

It is horrid when we see photos of bloodshed and lost of loved ones.
I can't stand looking at shots of mothers weeping over the lost of her child. But it is even harder not to look at it. That one shot represents so much, so much to that parent. But to us, the not-so-affected, it may only seem like an artistic shot. And no, that shot shouldn't win any prize... please, don't. Another's suffrage should never be someone's prize.

Can you imagine the repercussion on the affected. Life was normal a day before, and suddenly, they find themselves standing OUTSIDE their house, lost. Everything they worked for and the ones they worked with are gone. Just like that. How rapid, how real. I don't know if it is Mother Nature's wrath of someother divine intervention, but it is too much to bear. Way too cruel. The cyclone shouldn't have created much of a problem, the situation was worsened by the fact that the affected area was a delta. A low-lying region with meandering rivers leading outwards to the sea. It was the wakes swept up by the wind that caused most of the damages... Chance event?

China, earthquake. 7.9, mind you, it was measured 7.9! Enough to crash buildings. What's left? Mere smithereens. A high school collasped...Children, kids, vapourised. They became homogenous with the cracked concrete, the dust, the microscopic. It was measurer 7.9, but we cant measure lost.

Now where is the therapeurtic, curative assistance?
Yes, it is pouring in. Much faster than previous incidences where Mother Nature unleashed her fury.
But why are we faster now?
Are we more prepared? Maybe...
Are we financially able? Yes, but is that the real reason?

I guess we all know why we act so much faster than before,
               it is because we are very much rehearsed.

This isn't the first time,
               and I guess it wouldn't be the last.

But we are all getting way too experienced in this game of helping the injured. Doesn't it mean anything that this is becoming common-place?

We should all bow our heads. 

Wild horses, I wanna be like you.
Throw cautions in the air,
I wanna run with you.
Wild horses.

The consequences.
It surrounds me like a fence, I wanna break free. I want to feel the air in my hair. I want to move, to run free, to be thought-less.
But I can't. Because I screwed it up. Now worry plagues my heart, my mind and my whole entity. Afflicted, very much afflicted.
I can't even read in peace. My mind drifts, towards my possible rejection letter, yet again. Towards my lack of conviction to believe, towards my personal setback. Towards that hole again.
Once again.

It haunts me, constantly reminding me that I did bad this time. I really did. And I can't bloody stop worrying.
It isn't plainly for myself, You know that.
You know that.

I can't last too long like this. It hurts my sanity.
What ever's left.

Oh please, grant me strength.

Wild horses, I wanna run with you.

I totally screwed up the interview.
Big time, this time.
So much for hoping eh, and so much for preparation-how on Earth can I be prepared for that kinda qustions?
They can't tell who I am with that one interview! It isn' fair to judge me like that.
It isn't.
But I'm still hoping, still am. I only hope the outcome isn't judged plainly on that one interview. Oh Lord, grant me strength.

:[


Read the msg about SLC. Totally want to go for it. To see my batchmates, 23rds and the teachers maybe. The juniors too, most importantly.
Be brave, step out and path your way man.
I mean, disappointment of failure is horrid,
                    but the cowardice of not even trying is worst.
Don't be enticed to take the easy way out eh, be yourself and display bravery, gallatry!

Though I must warn all that,
            hardwork doens't conincide with success. Not all the time.
Shit happens, and most of us will see the shit, and avoid it.


But the greatest of leaders will,
                    warn others of that stink pile.

Not because he has to,
                     but because he wants to.

To all those who remembers:
          In this world there is a need,
          for people to lead the rest.
          To rise above the average life,
          By giving off their best.

And it really isn't for us, it is for them.
The ones entrusted on to us, the ones who grew up and left.
The ones who believed in themselves.
And hopefully still do.

Inspire, Aspire, Set afire.

Little droplets, such fear. Accumulates, congugates and consumes me whole.

I'm entirely scared for tomorrow's psc interview.
I know I don't have the best of grades, or the best of CCa records.
But I am who I am, and I ain't about to act like someone else.
So I'm going to enter the room, act like how I always do, and pray really hard.
Some people want to serve in the public sector, others are merely using the scholarship platform.
And I know which type I am.
So if the board doesn't believe in me or my purpose,
          there ain't a thing I can do.
But trust me, I can bring changes, changes I envision and initiatives I illustrate in my mind.
I know I ain't the most outstanding of candidates,
          but I have a purpose.
And it isn't all about me-
          Now, how many of us can say that out loud and feel no guilt.
I can.

I touch the sky, but the clouds parted.
I thought the best is over, till I saw the sun.
What warm rays of light, what powerful bearer of hope.
And I told myself,
          life is beautiful, if only the clouds part.

Bless me.

And so passed 6 weeks of not so tough training..though rather intellectually taxing...I am now a trained signal operator who specialises in drawing stores from the different storerooms...Indeed, there has never been an occation where stores were drawn without me around. I believe I am highly talented to be a storeman due to that exposure. However, I am not a storeman, to my dismay.

Alright, what can I say about the course. Basically my entire aim was to lie low key and basically float through the course. I almost succeeded... till sgt leon did the unthinkable! He chose me, when I totally don't want to, to be the platoon I/C. Now my shoutpost-readers will know that this ain't the first time I am the I/c (In charge) due to my naturally pleasing-face and my extreme bad luck. However, I took it in my stride... Prior to that, when my bad-luck afflicted name was called out, I was darn worried about the choice of the course I/C. As stated above, my plan was to be low key and as such, I need a siao-on course I/C in order to achieve that. Thank goodness it was Lee Wen Qin. Seriously, thank Shiva it wasn't LRJ. (THANK YOU!).

So the journey as the platoon I/c was the only challenging thing I did. Basically, some individuals are harder to get moving than most. Really, inertia is not proportional to weight. Some people are airy looking, but has such laziness-induced mass that I need to do a research on it to fully understand.

So everything was great, and my course i/c is very..well... useful. HAHA! See my highly lazy ass prevents me from doing anything more than the minimal. So everything else has to be done by my course i/c. Who, I think, did a comandable job. So a pad on your shoulders. Seriously, thank goodness it wasn't LRJ.

I am quite sure that I've offended at least a few during my i/c term. Maybe not so much of offending then, rather, annoyance. I knw I nag a lot bunk5, but see, I told you it would end soon! haha.

So I thank Shiva for a very dynamic and (well...) interesting platoon. And thank You for strength and guidance. I believe I did not work my ass off and so, naturally, best trainee wasn't me. Have no complains as I do think Bensoh deserves it academically.

And I am proud to be a signaller!

PS: Special thanks to WO jude s.v. Truely impactful, truely entertaining and a learning lesson no doubt.
Sgt Leon, for his ever-readiness to help. And I hope I've been slightly useful to you as a slave, at least during the exercise and the last 2 weeks. I do hope I have proven a point, capability and height are indeed inversely proportionate!
LT lim and Sgt lim, your time and effort is greatly appreciated. Though I am rather vocal and very demanding of comdrs, I thank sgt lim for taking my words in his stride and trying to adjust to the learning styles of the platoon. Lt lim, on the other hand, our short contact was pretty smooth... I do wish you both luck.

And to the elite platoon,
Thank you. Thank you for moving (though slowly) when asked to. And thank you for falling in when I ask you guys too. Though it would be best if you guys fall in when wen qin ask u guys to too, right wen qin. haha.

Bunk 1, appreciation much much. Thanks for the bunk cleaning effort and being truely a bunk-above-all-others. Sorry but in every elite platoon there has to be an elite bunk.
Thank you again.

Make love, lots of it, and not war.

A step at a time,
a child grows up.
He starts to whine,
screaming like a little pup.
He sees the light,
the constant protector.
The light through the night,
his only believer.
But soon he walks,
right out of sight.
But the light blames him not,
she cries in the night.
So silently she screams,
not letting him near.
she fear that all those hints,
will show the weakness in her.
Above all troubles, above all thoughts,
desert and abandon, never neither.
The son must stop, take a little halt,
to see the work,
           the work of a mother.

-Chin

Miss Tang got me thinking once,

If everything is fighting to be different,
wouldn't that very struggle make us all the same?

Indeed, not about to be homeogenised by the rest. It aint easy to stay constant (and afloat amongst all the angst) but it is an important step in maintaining sanity... I mean, smiles doesn't come cheap, it really doesn't. It takes much self control, much awareness, an ability to let things go and most importantly, a powerful capacity to SWALLOW all shit. Yes, instead of 'dont cry out loud' we have 'dont scream out loud'...'just keep it inside'. This is by no attempt escapism, no no. This is a courageous act of giving and temperament control. A limitation of discourse with the external resulting in an exponential outburst of conversation with the inside, the self, he spirit. I mean, why get angered when anger does no good... Do not be mistaken, this is not to say that I do not get angered, I do, and it is surprisingly common. I get annoyed at the simpliest, most minimalistic mistakes or slowness. Such lack of conviction. I do, and lack of personality or logic is fully distasteful indeed. However, as logical human beings, we should constantly attack our method of resolution. How we handle issues and how much it actually works.
And yes, this is Chin's lesson on anger management.

haha...what a joke.

Alright, on another note, some of my coursemates will be heading overseas for whatever they do overseas. So I guess there will be less of us at hellhole. I mean, we really need to stick together now, how else can we survive?

But, if we all struggle to be different....
However, we cannot merely become one, be a communal entity.
That is too much of an insult given that I wouldn't want to associated with a certain few people...

So how?!
How?!

Suck thumb, carry on.
Such is life eh? Many a times, things don't go our way.
So control our emotions when things go astray,
no screams of anger, no shouts of annoyance.

Breathe,
breathe.
Clear your head....
I swear I can survive............














with a couple more shots of volka please.


God, have mercy on us, the God-fearing...

A rather introspective day today.
I think back to the times when I've been challeged.
Naturally, I am compelled to think of my weaknesses and the tipping point of my life.
Dear friends, I do not cry. For I see no purpose. Plainly, I do not cry for sadness, nor for weakness but for relief. The one time I was so very close to tears was in secondary4.
My council mates would know what happened, Student Leaders' Camp 2nd night. Right after "The Event" as the special apparatus is being passed on from the former to the new president.
After that, I walked to each and every one of my wonderfully capable 'students' (may I all you that) and took their hands. I looked them in their eyes, and all I can tell myself is that my job is done. It is bloody over. Directionless, lost amongst remorse and a speckle of joy. Mosaic... what a powerfully visual mosaic.
And I nearly cried. Nearly.

Many a times I look back and I swear I am who I am thanks to my appointment in council. Alright, so what if I wasn't president. Bloody hell I was the secondary two coordinator, and we ALL know what sec2coords go through. Whenever I return to camps, I tell te juniors how special a sec2coord is, I wouln't know if they believe in me enitrely but I can't ensure that. It's only when you actually become one that you realise the potent, life-long effect is has on you. Butterfly effect...

So, dearest juniors, Sec2coord is the way to go for a fulfilling journey and a personal stairway of growth.

Imagine my anger when one of my interviewer only wanted personal examples from the recent 2 years. I had to exclude my council challenges. Sigh, such is life.

To my dearest 23rd, I still think of you guys once in a while. And ams till surprised at how this group of previously complete strangers can come in and dictate the pulsing of my heart.
All you heart-stealers!
Good luck for your A levels, poly or whatever path you have chosen. And i hope you'll be as empowered as I. You'll all be in my prayers.

Such conviction.

Ever felt suffocated? Like the air around is zoomed out to emptyness. The distance between unconsciousness and state of awake being so minute. Every whisper is heightened, amplified and empowered. Every tiny vibration feels like a spastic inpulse. Boom, boom, boom boom.

I call this the dancer's awakened state of conception. It is an irony how the complete lack of direction in dance can lead to the best improvisation. I'll explain-improvisation is the art of creating dance from nothing put stimuli, weak ones at that. A dancer needs to be liberated physically and mucularity must be enriched inorder to lose all inhibitions and to dance. Improvisation dance is not aimed to be graceful or beautiful because it uses the most minimal, animalistic nature of the dancer to protray, commonly but not limited to, emotions. The surprise here is that the dancer often appears graceful nevertheless expecially in contemporary dance). This is no surprise as the best improvisers are the ones deeply rooted in technique, where everymove is so grounded in style, artistic believe and conviction. Such are the gifts of dancers. Movement, an intrinsic instinct of human, is most amplified to the state of beauty and power, grace and emotive strength by a dancer. The dancer lives his/her stories through the dance via her body, the physical encapsulation of her journey thus far. The body listens, reacts and dominates.
A dancer is a gift from God.

However, such rules of conception does not work in a club. However, I truely believe that a foundation in technical dance helps in the freeing up of the body in a club, achieving more varied movements.

The tradeoff is that a true dancer is constantly exhausted. This is plainly because every move is calculated. Every step taken has to be purposeful, well defined and powerfully executed.

Which is why I totally need to rest now.

You work hard, seeking success. You are self-sufficient and in spite of all the trials and tribulations that have beset you in the past you carry on regardless.. You are one to be admired because you pursue your objectives single-mindedly and with initiative. You know that you can 'do it' and what is more, you will - without necessarily being dependent upon the goodwill of others.

You 'need to be needed'. As an idealist you are intolerant of anything short of special consideration from those close to you. If you do not get what you seek you are apt to become reclusive and you will close the doors on all those within your sphere of influence.

Although you are, deep down, a very caring person, you are very particular in the choice of friends and indeed very demanding at times. You can be most quarrelsome and controversial and it is because of this argumentative trait you can at times explode into open conflict - conflict with even those you may care for and love. It is because of this inherent argumentative streak in you that may have resulted in broken hopes and dreams.

For whatever the reason, you find it extremely difficult to sustain relationships - that is to sustain them in the manner that you would wish. You are a very gentle sort of person, full of feeling, sensitivity and susceptible to love and affection, looking and longing for a partner with whom you can enjoy 'All things bright and beautiful' - someone with whom you can seek out the more esoteric things of life. But up to now this person has only existed in your imagination. You are very choosy, appreciative, refined and extremely artistic in temperament and it is your hope to seek others who will allow you to form and express your own taste and judgement and who at the same time may assist you in your intellectual or artistic growth.

You are being very dogmatic, insisting that there is to be absolutely no equivocation whatsoever about your achievements and accomplishments.

Alright, my PSC commision board interview is on the 9th of may. I'm worried, really am, plainly because I know they are going to ask current affair issues. In the army, we aren't very well equiped to answer those questions.
Sigh, wish me luck...

No one but janet jackson can hold my attention for so long. I mean, FEEDBACK has been in my mind for the longest time. It is indeed a great song and I suppose her comeback can be considered as VERY successful. Go watch her live performance on the Ellen show...please! Let's hope they'll play it in the club tonight!

Many of my friends have been receiving acceptance letters from the various universities. First and foremost, I regret not applying to overseas universities...further more, the only one I have gotten acceptance for so far is NTU biological science...which I think isnt too hard to enter... though I didnt do great for my Alevels, I didn't exactly screw it up eh.
But still, I feel totally un-special!...darn it.

And I really think I need to be more realistic. See, PSC interviews about 200 students, btu provides scholarships to only (at most) 60 students. Sigh... I'm quite sure we all know where I stand.
And I don't have all As, or complete score.
At least I know that I do want to serve in the public sector...unlike many others... I know of people using this as a platform to an overseas university experience...nothing more.
Get out man!

But life's like that, shit happens (this is very much true where I am now).

I only have one and a half weeks left in Signals. After that, I'll need to chiong sua up hills and fight...with a radio on my pack.
AH! Give me STRENGTH.

Sigh.

I did a brave thing. I really did. My coursemates, superiors and myself had a feedback session. And feedback I did. Really, not too polite but I had a point to make and I had to. Either then or never, and I knew that...

I do hope I won't get beaten to death by 'some one random on the streets'. Bless me!

The past week has been rather interesting. I went for the PSC psychological interview, extremely late yes but I am still very much honoured to be even interviewed. Let's not forget my totally shitty A level results alright! I think it went rather well, I was relaxed and willing to share, and she was willing to listen. Though I think I could have spoken a little slower...okay, a lot slower. Am awaiting the commission board interview, if that goes well, I would be....very happy. And very much blessed. Oh, there aren't many things in life I want as bady as this. It isn't just for myself, it is for many others. Many many others.

Once again, I would like to express distaste at people who 'don't mind teaching'. Freak you guys man, seriously. I mean, we cannot afford to have a community of educators looking only at the monetary side of things. We need teachers to be able to teach not just academic content but touch on emotional, social and the expressive domain of things. To teach is to carve diamonds from rocks. And unless there is passion, the product won't be worth nothing. So if you find yourself saying taht you 'don't mind teaching', you aren't passionate and are cannot do it. You either want to, or don't want to teach, there is no grey area. Remember that people.

Give me the scholarship already!
NOW NOW!

The entire week has been about feedbacks, Janet Jackson is great. Go check out feedback by Janet, really worth the time. Dance wise, watch it to believe it man. I am trying to learn the dance but it is really hard. I mean I cannot get the physical emphasis on beats just by watching. I need someone to teach me!
sigh.

~light skin, dark skin, my Asian persuasion.
I've got them all, that's why these girls' out here hating,
coz I'm sexy~

Sonnet 18

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date".

Thank you shakespeare for making my day better....

Many things constantly remind me of my previous experiences... All I have to say is that I have been through shit... sht so bad it makes people cry.

So what's this man...

And wish me luck for my PSC scholarship interview. Though it is a psychological interview...which means I can only be who I am...

An that isnt good, because I aint too speical. I int extermely smart, nor do I have outstanding outstanding cca records... All I have is what I am, what i became and what I am trying to be.
so spare me the critical judgement, I am all you see.

Though it is slightly pricky when people ask if i was a wayang-king (an actor, trying to please only the higher command) in mohawk. haha, wayang!? hha me?! haha. what a joke.
what a joke.
if anyone sspects that I was a wayang-king, you ain't know who I am.
haha.

dark skin, light skin, my asian persuasion.
yeah that sexy sexy sexy.

  
  
  

WHAT MAJOR IS RIGHT FOR YOU? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Education/Counseling You should strongly consider majoring in Education, such as early childhood education, middle childhood education, secondary education, or related majors (e.g., Vocational Education, Special Education, P.E./Physical Education). It is possible that the best major for you is your 2nd, 3rd, or even 5th listed category, so be sure to consider ALL majors in your OTHER high scoring categories (below). You may score high in a category you didnt think you would--it is possible that a great major for you is something you once dismissed as not for you. The right major for you will be something 1) you love and enjoy and 2) are really great at it. Consider adding a minor or double majoring to make yourself standout and to combine your interests. Psychology is a great minor for education majors. Please post your results in your myspace/blog/journal.          Education/Counseling          94% HR/BusinessManagement          94% Psychology/Sociology          88% Visual&PerformingArts          88% Nursing/AthleticTraining/Health          81% English/Journalism/Comm          75% Biology/Chemistry/Geology          75% PoliticalScience/Philosophy          63% History/Anthropology/LiberalArts          50% French/Spanish/OtherLanguage          50% Religion/Theology          44% Accounting/Finance/Marketing          44% Physics/Engineering/Computer          44% Mathematics/Statistics          13%

Void

A black hole. A blank page. Empty Locker. Filled coffin. Locked door. A broken radiator. All of which individually contain Voids. A lack of mass and matter, Words or poetry, Books and bags, Life and soul, Opportunity or escape, Heat and warmth. Sad, no not sad. But true. I'll give you that. Each void passes unnoticed, Undiscovered, unthought of, unopened. But when the page is filled, As is the locker, And a child born, Or a door opened, And heat created, We stop. Stop, to hold witness to beauty and Rebirth. Death, No. No one seeks for death, For the cold, And the solitary. Yes, physically, maybe. But in time, everyone Seeks homage and Rebirth. Not the black hole, Or the blank page, Or the empty locker, The filled coffin, Nor the locked door, Or the cold. No one. Giuliana Watson

See, I did really badly for my A levels... And, just to clarify, how well one does in an examination is dependant on expectation. So, don't compare eachothers' grades side-by-side. Makes no sense. Compare the grade with effort, time spent and potential... Consequentially, I did REALLY badly.
But comfort me not, some things happen to wake up out of our life-less existential shells. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. That is if you let it make you stronger.

Not so special now eh...
Ha...

It grows on you. As one ages, one realises societal concepts that somehow alluded us when we were younger. Okay, not exactly aging, but growing up. Have you ever considered, When you were youthful and full of energy and spent most of your waking hours (most hours were waking anyways) with your friends, not at home. Not at home. I tried to imagine how it feels to be a parent, watching as your child leaves you. I really cannot effectively visualise, maybe because I lack the maturity still. Not yet, yet. So, when the child leaves the room, leaves the house, after an occational joyful goodbye, the parent/parents are left with a minute or two of silence. Dead silence. Pressing quiet-ness, I suppose it feels as if te ceilling it itself is crashing upon them. As though the walls are closing in, the feeling of void. The silence is so very heavy, the sole magnitute of it, crashing like waves, pulsing through the house... It follows the heartbeat, pulse-----pulse-----pulse.

But gradually it speeds up. It gains velocity, the pulsing of nothing-ness radiates and hastens along with the parent/parents heartbeat. Is he going to be okay? Is she going to be safe out there? Am I going to die worrying?

The parent then starts wondering...how fast the change took place. The 'evolution', the devaluation of parental-quality time. Very fast, very very fast. There was a time, not long ago, when the two entities, parent and child, was inseparable-joint at the heart and in the mind, almost telepathic. Dining together, walking down streets togather, window shopping together, and living together. Most importantly, that was the time when the two entities talked to each other. Not at each other. But things changes. Rapidly. And how, the parent is left with the feeling of...heaviness.

How can anyone bear the pains of being a parent? Knowing that there will be a point in time when the child (the gift?) will consider being beside his/her parent/s as embrassing. Shameful? How dare us? But even so, the realisation of the invalidity of the concept stops no one in repeating the cycle every year. Every year, parents cry out inside when they finally accept that their child/ren has reached that age where friends override the importance of family.

I assure you, this is temporal. It has to be, because it is wrong.
Guilty charged.
And I am glad I have moved pass the age of stupidity.
Family is first importance, the only importance...
Treasure them, please.
How can anyone be a parent? It hurts so much at that point in time, it does doesn't it? It has to. And it kills me to realise that I was once that kid I would hate. A heartbreaking kid... Never lose your temper at your parents, they gave you everything you have. No arguements, they gave you life.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wouldn't be around for the next week. Going in to signals institute for the remainding of my NS training.

Start loving,
stop the hate.

Chin.

my results,
a joke.
haha

It pricipitates.
Like droplets in my sky,
Like pearls of awareness-awareness about my now plight.
Like no others.
Such fear, such expectations.
It weighs down, like a ton of bricks.
the pain is so clear, so sharp, so peircing-
yet so desired.
Missed out so much in my life,
but it isn't time to stop.
I expect, I demand, and others suppose.
And the burden gravitates inwards, itself intensifying.
Every second, every heartbeat, it pulses.
Pulses so strongly.
But I'm not over.
It's not over.
It's time.


And this is all I need now.

Such is life, we worry most of our days away and are left to face this world with half-hearted interest. Such is life.
Life brings with it many challenges, many hardles to tackle and many more that we cant break through. At certain checkpoints in life, a culmination of events leading to that checkpoint washes up to the back of my mind. No, not just the back of my mind, it dominates my existence. My entire being. It come and go, fact, in a rush. The catch is that it takes a part of my sanity away each time. A checkpoint has arived.
I have spent night after night worrying about the moment I am about to face, soon. In a couple of hours, my A level results wil be released. Many may think that I am over dramatising my results, but not all can understand. Not all. Expecially not those who are born smart, intellegent an study-smart. I'm not like those people... As such, I cannot take comfort in the fact that I have braincells overcharged with intellect. Because I don't have such a gift. All I have is a desire to do well, a desire to wake up early, to sleep late and to work my ass off. An ability to not fool around, to focus and to attempt to do well. But then, not everything works out the way we want it to. Memories are floating in to existence, very vivid pictures. Images of moments of joy and elation. But at the same time, this dreadful feeling of failure. Horrid feelings. I cannot explain how the combination of the two creates a sense of, of uncertainty. All I know is that, I really want to do well. Not only for myself, but for every young human being who once thought that they can never be anyone special. It is not just for me, it is for everyone who hates being normal, but are. It s for every child who hears that they are stupid and normal and so-so all the time. This is for me to know that I'm no longer that person.
This is for ME to know that I'm not an average. Not anymore. Not anymore.
These waves of recollection, some painful some light-heartening, are pulsing ever so strongly. So sharp, so steep, so fierce - so alive.

How will I do?
I have no clue, and I refuse to stipulate. Conjetures cannot bring relief.
So all i can do is to pray, pray and pray.
And if i wrote a note to God,
                                            Please,
                                                       I'll ask for ....
strength.

Be with me.
Please.

had guard duty.
have so little time for rest.
seriously, why me. sigh

Chinese ney year break! YEAH! 4 days! YEAH!
a long break, finally.
Going to sleep a lot, rest my muscles (or lack thereof) and spend time with non military-associated people. such simple joys! haha

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. ...William Shakespeare

Field camp is finally over. All the mud, sand, rain, rain, rain, combat rations, smelly guys...all over. Finally. I'm relieved but at the same time, a bit worried. Yes, I was appointed the platoon i/c but besides that, I feel as though the commanders are starting to ignore me. What I mean is that they arent pushing me no more, nor are they talking to me much...
But, when a platoon mate told a sergeant that I was the best platoon i/c so far, the sergeant replied with a simple 'i know'. At the point of time, I swear I was no longer covered in mud and sweat and powder. I was clean, and sugar coated-with an extra scoop of icecream. Vanilla please.
Then, a few moments later, that sergeant offered to make me company i/c for the next day and I agreed. But then he told me that he is not going to let me be the company i/c because I said yes...And so I wasn't the company i/c. sigh.

Was talking to QX on the taxi and he told me some stuff. I do hope THAT is the reason why the commanders are ignoring me.

IT feels great to be back in civilisation. No more roots, stones, wild boars and HUGE FLIES!...HUGE!

And I'm thankful. very thankful that I survived and that it didnt rain 4 out of the 6 days.
Infact, it started raining the moment we finished our last event! Thank God for his grace.

next up, SITuational TEST.
sigh, better perform.... 

(I/C means In-Charge)

Another week just past. Nothing much. Had live firing this week - the night firing was fun though I didn't do as well as I hoped I would :(.

Somehow, my sergeants remember me and my performance when I was the i/c, which is a really good thing given that it helps me get noticed. I must say I didn't work particularly hard this week. Yes, I saved certain people from getting scolded and I led my detail but it isn't much.

Was talking about our fate after Passing-Out-Parade on the bus just now. I would love to be trained to be a commander, but it is not going to be easy. Not going to be easy at all. I believe I have to work a bit harder so my SIR recognises my effort, and my willingness to learn. Unlike many others who pretend, I work hard because it is right. Seriously.

And BTW, this person... if you are reading this, STRAIGHTEN your bed next time. I'm sick of getting blasted for your lack of interest in everything. Seriously, it is getting onmy nerves how you escape everything and we have to take the punishment.

Last thing, dearest 'S2', do not think that your 'S' is the best. Oh please. You guys may have the best relationship with the instructors - but that's it. Being funny and friendly doesn't make you guys potential commanders.

Please.

Ok, I need to buck up. Need to perform even better.
You bet I will....

change... change doesnt come easy.. indeed. it really doesnt.
one has to put in effort and the environment must be supportive of it.

i crave for some kind of change.
physical, mental, spirtual, emotional.

but it really isnt easy.

really.

and so, after about 3 weeks in the army, i'm still suriviving.

but it is very annoying to realise that when i as the i/c, i was doing everything alone. i mean, no one really helped me.
but a few are now helping the second i/c. alright, it may seem as if he is being a great i/c, so many i've spoken to thinks otherwise. mainly because he isnt being truthful to himself. the works he completes are a culmination of many people's work. really. and i am enraged. because everything i achieved in my term was independent.

well nothing's really fair isit?

and this past two days had been really hard.
i mean, it is hard to stand out without my voice right...
but i'm sure i've gotten to know a few platoon-mates better now.
thats good.
but really, i feel as if i'm myself trying to help the new i/c too...
when he did nothing to help me when i was doing my term.

but no, i aint going to be a bitch and not help him because he didnt help me...
thats not how it works my friends.
so like i've said, i'm going to be who i am.
nothing changes you see.

and n matter what the commanders see, it is their own business. i've no interest in 'acting' to gain favor... i'm doing what i think is apt, and that's that...



ANYWAYS
HE volunteered to be i/c,

i was SELECTED.

bite that!

thanks f