Life, The Universe And Everything

The Beginning

2006-06-20T23:38:00.000+08:00

OK I admit it. Lol I started another blog recently. benlo.wordpress.com. So if by some strange twist of fate you have stumbled upon this relic of a past life, do pop over to my new beginning!

Till next time then, when I come to visit you, itinerant companion of 2 years in HellHole. Perhaps from you I will continue to reap lessons that will serve me well in life.

The End

2006-04-15T00:16:00.000+08:00

As many of you may know, I nearly died on April 12th, Wednesday morning 12.50 am.

And gazing into the jaws of Death, I found his teeth to be overly sharp and his breath sulphurous, with the stink and stench of unfulfilled dreams reeking from his throat.

I have vowed to change, and maybe, imperceptibly, I have already started to do so.

This blog ends here, to be reopened only in the most miraculous of situations, on par with Shin Hung's and mine own escape from the car wreck. Because life, Life is too precious to be wasted in the meandering writings of a person who has yet to experience so much of it, life is too valuable to be spent on thinking about things past and gone. Life is lived for the present.

And to all my friends who may face their trouble and time of need in the future, I speak to you as one saved from death: Every moment can be and will be and shall be as sweet as we choose. Nobody can ever depress you, once you realize that you have cheated death and you have a second chance. For what are the troubles of a petty world and its petty people, when you know that you are IMMORTAL? That God has saved you?

We do not go gentle into that good night. But nor do we rage against it. For we light a candle, and cast far our sight.

God bless all of you, in each and every one of the years to come.

2006-04-06T01:33:00.000+08:00

EVERYTHING I DID THERE, I DID IT FOR THE TWO OF YOU!

EVERY GODDAMN THING!

EVERYTIME I FELL, I GOT UP AND I SAID: IT'S FOR YOU!

EVERY GODDAMN TIME!

AND NOW!

IN SPITE OF EVERY FUCKING TRIAL AND TRIBULATION AND TEST AND TRIUMPH!

YOU STILL DON'T WANT TO TAKE ME IN! YOU WON'T OPEN YOUR DOORS TO ME!

WELL FUCK YOU!

I will get better than you one day.

Rubber Bands

2006-04-01T19:40:00.000+08:00

There was once a little rubber band.

Small, cute thing; orange in colour, and nothing quite exceptional about it. It was the kind of rubber band pasar aunties use to tie packets of Milo-peng shut, the kind of rubber band people use to tie pens together. In short, a completely ordinary and unremarkable rubber band.

However, this rubber band was cognizant of one thing. It existed to be stretched.

It was surrounded by many many other rubber bands of excellent quality, rubber bands which could quite possibly be used to tie together space rockets and hold down trees in a Force 5 gale. But sometimes, these rubber bands didn't realize that they were, in fact, rubber bands. They didn't realize that the sole goal and purpose of a rubber band is to be stretched, to be tested, and finally, to be rewarded with a responsibility if it should be found up to the mark.

And so the entirely forgettable rubber band thought to share his discovery with his more outstanding peers, always reminding everyone that they existed to be tested through the stretchings of Life, and eventually they'll end up being great bands; rubber bands that all other rubber bands look up to and say: Gosh I wish I could stretch that far and hold those trees down.

The rubber band put itself through a variety of singularly excruciating tasks. It was stretch stretch stretch all day long, and at times it was stretched beyond Hooke's Limit, to the point where it never was really quite itself anymore, but still retained enough stretchiness to recognize that it wasn't quite as rubber-bandy as before. Ah well. The sacrifices of success. After all, common rubber band literature held that if a rubber band were not gifted with the innate stretchiness of other, luckier rubber bands, it would nevertheless be able to distinguish itself through tons of hard stretching.

And then came the day!

The inquisitorial board of rubber band stretchers deigned to finally visit the little rubber band. And sadly, the committee of Huvvud, Kembrij and Preenztun found it, as always, quite unremarkable.

In spite of all the stretches!

And the subsequent deformation of its personality!

Huvvud said: No thanks, we've got too many rubber bands this year as it is. It's not your fault, you were wonderful! It's just... well.. you know... And oh yeah, just so you know, we're really sad bout it too.

Kembrij said: Your application was Unsuccessful.

And Preenztun? Well, Preenztun hasn't said anything yet, but from the rubber band's experience with him, it knew it was in the 'thanks for your 70 RBD (rubber band dollars) list'.

Such is the life of sad, sorry rubber bands gifted with nothing but ambition, like a car without wheels.

And what then of the rubber band?

It could die a full death, fading away from consciousness in the absence of justification and expectation.

Or, it could be reassembled into an engine of war that will crack this fucking world open like a fucking eggshell, a world which has clearly chosen not to play by the rules.

I wonder...

Singaporean Lightbulbs

2006-03-30T01:33:00.000+08:00

Ok I shamelessly ripped this off Jo's page, which he apparently ripped off someone else's so no harm no foul. Pretty fucking funny if you know enough about lovely Singapore.

Q: How many RJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: 4 whole faculties. One faculty to design the new bulb, one faculty to test it out, one faculty to market it and one guy to write a stupid E-mail about lightbulbs.

Q: How many HCJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: The whole school. To compete with RJC.

Q: How many VJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: The whole school. One student to screw it in and the rest to cheer and wave flags and banners to give him/her support.

(Editor's Note: OMG so true. You haven't seen fanaticism till you've seen a JC come out to cheer their sports players on. It's like the whole fucking school is high on pure grade A dope.)

Q: How many NJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. They can study without light.

Q: How many AJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: They're too busy trying to be one of the top 5 JCs.

(Editor's Note: Ouch.. Don't the truth hurt...)

Q: How many ACJC students does it take to change a lightbulb??
A: None. They'd use all their money to employ YJC to do it for them.

(Editor's Note: Yup, ACJC is like Lodge but richer. Much richer.)

Q: How many YJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. Only one teacher to tell them what a lightbulb is in the first place and to demonstrate(how do you think they're able to change it for ACJC?)

Q: How many CJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: They'd prefer it darker. *raises eyebrows*

(Editor's note: OK, for the uninitiated, CJC was like probably the ONLY JC in Singapore to have an abortion... And so therefore, it being Singapore and more straight-laced than a pair of new shoes, it has gone down in history. I don't care what the Star wrote about the secret lives of Singaporean teens and their wild sex rampages... All I can say is it must have been a PRETTY WELL-KEPT SECRET.)

Q: How many JJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. Their physics is so bad that they make the male teacher cry.

(Editor's Note: Ok, didn't get that one but hey, it's JJC)

Q: How many TPJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: They wouldn't bother.

Q: How many SAJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. They believe in praying for it.

(Editor's Note: Wahahahaha! Let there be light!)

Q: How many NYJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: None. They're still using oil lamps.

Q: How many SRJC students does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Huh, wat litebarb...

Q: How many TJC students does it take to change the lightbulb?
A: None. They think they're very bright already.

Q: How many PJC students does it take to change the lightbulb?
A: Fuck the lightbulb lah, the principal will do something about it. Let's do 300 jumping jacks for not wearing the proper school attire.

Again, for the uninitiated, the sad list of JJC, PJC, TPJC, YJC and various other colleges are pretty low ranked... this being Singapore, it means they are correspondingly looked down upon by all other, 'top-ranked' JCs. A more stratified society I have yet to find.

And you guys said I was exaggerating when I came back and told my horror stories!

The truth shall set you free.

Of Loneliness and Absolution

2006-03-28T01:05:00.000+08:00

Having read Ruihoong's and Jason's blog consecutively, I guess its inevitable that some of the sentimentality that radiates from them must shine upon my occasionally unsentimental soul.

But what have I to be sentimental about? Ah, 'tis the eternal dilemma faced by a supposedly cold-hearted individual as I: That inestimable yearning to wax lyrical about the human condition and matters of life, yet HINDERED by an unfortunate affliction - the blessing of happiness.

Looking back, exactly 4 months ago, I ended it. The 2 years of intermittent torture ended, on this very day, when I finished the S Paper. And there was joy.

But aside from that, there was relief. A lifting of my soul's burden, a liberation from my shackles. As a bird in an iron cage is cast into the wild, so too was I released from a prison that previously had become my universe. The long nights fueled by coffee. The arduous treks up a lonely and barren brick hill, with naught but the light of a hostel to shine upon me. I was tired... horribly so. Tired in spirit; for there was no Presence. Tired in mind; for there was no leisure. Tired in body; for there was no rest. But worst of all, tired in heart; for there was no understanding, no respite, no hope.

How could I have lived through it? Everyday I woke, jostled into painful awareness by Foo or Jon switching on the harsh fluorescent lights. My head was always drowsy with the memory of treasured sleep. I would stumble to the toilet, and wait for a gush of cold water to jump-start my system. No time for breakfast, so I would begin a mad rush to the bus. As I exit the front door, there will be a moment of trepidation (Singapore is nothing but a series of such moments) where I would gaze into the distance, noting if the CHIJ girls were still walking, or had everyone disappeared and were boarding the bus.

In school. The defeated file into LT1, bearing the same expression of hopelessness upon our faces. The bright lights of a room that had the smell and feel of an detention camp, amplified by the sheer exhaustion expanding from each weary soul. And those were the lucky days. On normal days, it would be a trek to the Council room, each step bringing me closer to a place where I could practically SNIFF the scent of work, toil and further emotional torture.

Assembly begins. We march off to the square and gaze at a sky perfectly made for happiness. The sky is blue, with scuds of fluffy white hanging there like cotton wool. A breeze sweeps through the grounds, like the breath of God whispering that today is a beautiful day it is a wonderful day it is a day for flying kites and having drinks and sleeping and rolling in the fresh green grass.

But we sing our songs and listen to an unending barrage of nonsensical advertisements that would make my baby sisters cringe.

The day begins. The lectures are interspersed with walks between halls, and the future narrows suddenly to nothing more than the next 45 minutes. Survival; that is all. We do not ask for happiness or release, we only ask to survive. Lectures to do homework, tutorials to avoid questions. Then PE. I can't even begin to describe it. It completely defies words.

And now lunch. It is a deadened bunch that troops to the oil-sweating canteens, facing the press and push of students similarly dressed in a gray that accentuates the tiredness. We line up and sit down at a table full of scholars, shoveling food that has neither taste nor texture into our mouths. Knowing full well that even the innocent act of eating is restricted by the toll of the bell, knowing also that the temporary respite will only make us sleepy and tired and prone to being scolded.

The day drags on. It becomes hotter. And hotter. And hotter.

And now it is evening. But the final bell is not, not, NOT the signal for lifting the barriers. Now comes the truly hard part. Freedom is there, just footsteps away, running out through the foyer where the scholars aggregate, quickstepping along the tarred road, waving past the guardhouse and out into the evening sun where the air suddenly seems fresher and sweeter and lighter.

But that is not my lot. Mine is to stay in school, to wait at the tables outside the staffroom that have become my second home. I almost expect to see a sleeping bag waiting for me. And the teachers call. I answer.

The friends leave. One by one. I feel them depart. I remain. Training. Working. Writing. Speaking. Typing. Arguing.

They go, I stay.

And now it is night.

And I am released, I walk through a foyer lit by a single white light, though a road dappled in shadows, alone. Always alone. There is no food. But there is no hunger either. Just an overarching sense of being completely alone.

I walk through the front gate, along the barren pathway next to a silent, dark drain, fingers flicking the thin metal bars that separate me from it. I pass a traffic light, one that always turns red as I approach it. Through a walkway long since emptied, beep through the turnstile, up the escalator.

And now I sit. Alone. At the railings, overlooking an empty tennis court flooded with harsh stadium lights. The track is empty. The train has left. And around me is nothing but the sound of an endlessly repeated advert on the TV screen, some inane animation of a robot turning into a ship, a mirage of life in a desert of silence and loneliness.

On the train. I find a seat in the corner, somewhere where I can just rest my head for a while. Just a little while. I can close my eyes, and hear nothing but the whoosh and rumble of the train passing over tracks. The lady's voice calling out the next station. And the next. And the next.

And now I have reached. Walk out the station, through a dark back passage cutting through a field of grass, the air around me filled with the sound of bullfrogs and crickets. I walk towards a bus station, too tired and lonely to walk the distance of that one bus stop.

The bus does not come. I wait, under the white lights of the station, my feet dangling off the slightly raised benches that are just a bit too circular for you to sit on. I have nowhere to rest my head.

And finally I decide to walk. Past the Indon hostel, towards the Plaza where the neon signs of cheap food and drink beckon. And it is sad that as I enter 7-11, there is that momentary lifting of the loneliness, as I walk into a familiar place full of familiar (but expensive) comforts. I buy a carton of juice, and continue walking.

Across the street, a final mad dash to make the last traffic light. I always have to time myself, so that I reach the first just as it turns green, so that I will not have to wait at the second.

Back up the black brick hill. My bag weighs down on me. My juice is finished. My feet are tired. But I walk on, illuminated only by the blue beam of the Cross.

And now I am in, and now I am home. Paltry perhaps, but it was a refuge. Home to bathe, to work, and finally to sleep before I went back to my reality, my real life at school.

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

But its miraculous how quickly one recovers, regenerates, resurrects. The touch of my feet upon home was not, of course, immediately happy: so many teething issues had to be worked out. But there was that je ne sais quo which permeated the air I breathed; a scent of relaxation and familiarity in the air that resonated within me.

And the friends! They encircled my dreary life like lifebuoys in a sea of despair.

One by one, they leave. But others return. And I discover new ones everyday, like the happy serendipity of finding 50 bucks in an old, forgotten corner of my room.

The serene solitude ain't half bad either. These late nights when I'm not out, gently tapping away at the computer in the quiet comfort of my room, a silence I have so often wished for in the clamor and hustle of the hostel, is mine for the taking. I remember a time in Form 5 when this would be my routine; to sleep at 9 and wake at 2, when all the world was asleep and I would pad down to the kitchen in the velvet silence. Switch on the lights with trepidation, and settle down with the phone and a friend just a call away. A book in hand, a meal in bowl. And around me, the nothingness that one needs to appreciate the value of people.

Driving... tedious at times, yes. But clearly the best social activity we've discovered since basketball. To drive alone in my car, on a sunset evening, with my own CD's playing favorite songs while I linger through the slow lane. The window is down, and the streets are clear, because it's just early enough that people are working. And the gentle breeze fills my space with a hint of leaves, trees and life. At night then, picking up friends old and new, we drive through the sleeping streets of Kuching, singing songs and talking about life.

I used to be amazingly lonely in the midst of a crowd; marooned at sea in the middle of a city. In the center of the hurricane, there is an eye of the storm. But how solitary it gets in that silence.

Life in its infinite, startling permutations, life in its peaks of joy and valleys of despair, life in its sweetness and energetic brilliance, life in its gentle bubbling through the brook of humanity.

rah... says:
i think i just need to talk to someone from back home

rah... says:
usually sets my heart at peace after such talks

Yeah. I know just what you mean.

Kampua Theory

2006-03-26T20:08:00.000+08:00

I happened to meet Danny while I was down in KL recently, and I thought I'd share the Kampua Theory we came up with while we were jiwanging together at 3am. (We weren't drunk, though you might think otherwise)

Firstly, life is like a bowl of kampua.

Friends are the kampua noodles. And relationships are, in the true Sibu style, the three little bits of char sio on top.

You see, the char sio makes the kampua taste much, much better. Kampua without char sio tends to be a bit bland, perhaps, lacking that flavorful texture of slightly charred meat (MEAT MEAT MEAT) that absolutely titillates the tastebuds.

But!

Char sio is so hard to find... so expensive... and sometimes... the char sio is also chao-da, making the meal taste less than marvellous.

Haiz.

Yet no matter what, you still have the kampua. Not as exciting or wonderful as char sio maybe. But there is plenty of it. And it is filling. And dependable. Reliable. What could go wrong with noodles?

We can have a full meal of nothing but kampua. But its hard to feel full with only 3 pieces of char sio.

So take heart. Char-sio-less now perhaps, or maybe a bit chao-da, but at the end of the day...

There's always kampua =)

Food!

2006-03-26T19:55:00.000+08:00

Having been inspired by the vehemence of Jason's post on KFC, I too am ready to vent my frustrations on food.

Some of you may have heard the astounding rumour that I have forsaken meat. Yes! Be not astonished!

I HAVE GIVEN UP MEAT.

Not forever of course, don't be absurd. But since March 1st, the day I received my A-Level results, I have not touched a scrap of meat.

Fish, however, I have consumed. In unhappy abundance.

For the mongrels out there who insist that fish is meat, stuff it. You have NO RIGHT TO DENY ME EVEN FISH. The sheer cruelty of it...

I have eaten steamed fish. Fried fish. Boiled fish. Grilled fish. Baked fish. Barbequed fish. Tilapia, pek chio, o chio, salmon, tenggiri, cod. Fish burgers, fish nuggets, fish steak, fish fillet, sushi, sashimi, fish keropok. Fish in onion sauce, tomato sauce, black pepper sauce, chilli sauce.

FISH. FISH. FISH.

And reading through horrible Jason's moaning about his stringy chicken ribs puts me in a frenzy of Meatlust. Try living without meat for 26 days!!! The merest HINT of chicken will drive you utterly mad!

I have eaten innumerable airplane meals of nothing but fish.

Fish.

Fish.

Fish.

Lord God, 5 more days. I have fully appreciated the power of my personal miracle.

Another Fucking Idiot

2006-03-22T13:47:00.000+08:00

Every now and then, something in the news will unhappily float up like shit to the surface of my happy little pond.

This time, it happens to be a little squirreled away comment by an intelligence beggar holding a ministerial position within our oh-so-benighted government. I won't mention his name, not only because I don't want it to sully my lips, but also because I'm hoping it won't turn up this blog if someone googles it.

Right!

Stupid Minister's Comment

So now, according to this man, who by the virtue of his position should be a statesman of wise bearing, great learning, and measured words, we are not to criticize Muslims.

No big deal. That's common knowledge.

The next sentence is, however, such a corny threat I imagine he could only have received this breathtaking inspiration from a James Bond movie.

“But you must remember the word amok comes from this country and there is a limit to everything,” he said, telling non-Muslims not to make comments or write articles on Islam that could be construed as belittling the religion.

Oh My God! Such fear it strikes into my heart! Shall he then rally the faithful to his banner, marshalling the legions of the devout to rampage over the heathens and infidels unchecked? Run amok, all ye Malaysians who feel insulted! The government will not only turn a blind eye, it will CONDONE IT because hey, after all we're best known for that oh-so-cool word amok.

Our country is ruled by morons and imbeciles who couldn't understand the power of language if I wrote a book and had it translated into Jawi.

“I want to remind non-Muslims to refrain from making statements on something they do not understand,” he told reporters at the Parliament lobby...

Hey man, don't go branding a lack of understanding on others when you also champion supposedly free speech. So presumably comments in the absence of understanding are perfectly admissible when dealing with issues like urmm... Christianity! (that irrelevant little cult...). But of course, only the most learned scholars or, failing that, our beloved minister who obviously possesses not only a PhD in Theological Islam but also in Mass Psychology, Governance and Political Science, are qualified enough to comment on Islam and speak for a people that are complex, diverse, highly intelligent and defy stereotyping.

Well! At least you didn't call me a heathen or an infidel. Good for you, sir! Your self-restraint speaks volumes. Or maybe you couldn't pronounce the words.

A Reported Conversation

2006-03-19T12:41:00.000+08:00

Just to show how good life can get... Here's a conversation with good buddy Ambarish currently mooching in Singapore.

*BEGIN*
benlo - rah sorry just saw your message, how are you? drop me a msg some day! says:
is today sunday?

Esgallindeion says:
hmm

Esgallindeion says:
gud qtn

Esgallindeion says:
lets see

Esgallindeion says:
british council is open

Esgallindeion says:
so no, its not sunday

Esgallindeion says:
n i can't see day n date in this comp

Esgallindeion says:
so i cant tell anything more definite

Esgallindeion says:
gosh, we are pathetic

benlo - rah sorry just saw your message, how are you? drop me a msg some day! says:
i assume its saturday then

benlo - rah sorry just saw your message, how are you? drop me a msg some day! says:
coz my parents are somewhere

benlo - rah sorry just saw your message, how are you? drop me a msg some day! says:
ah

benlo - rah sorry just saw your message, how are you? drop me a msg some day! says:
isnt life grand
*END*

Grand is the word. May all our days be filled with leisure.

Tribute

2006-03-17T13:35:00.000+08:00

Yesterday we went to pick up the STPM results.

I dedicate this post to all my friends, present and absent, met and unmet, who took results which were perhaps less than hoped for. It is at times like these when I truly wish I had the same kind of faith, either in God or in yourselves, that allows you to pick yourself up and move on.

I remember a time when I would be rendered helpless by the mere thought of an imperfection in my own grades. And if truth be told, I haven't quite shaken it off yet, though I have possibly ameliorated it to a certain extent. But after witnessing the fortitude and good humour displayed yesterday, I have renewed resolve to change, to accept, to move on.

There will come a time when we will look back on this incident with amusement; remember the girl grinning at the cameras with laughter; walk through StJo's halls with remembrance and not other, more painful emotions. That, I trust, will be a time of wealth and security and influence, in spite or because of Life's batterings.

Rise again from the ashes, to sheathe ourselves in flame once more.

Updates

2006-03-15T15:05:00.000+08:00

Aihz. It's been far too long since I blogged and I guess the the impetus that stems from sheer boredom has run dry...

So!

1) A-Level results, for those of you in far-off places who haven't yet called me, were better than expected but not as good as hoped. The eternal story of my life.

2) I went to Singapore and clubbed my brains out! Plans are afoot to organize a trip to go clubbing in my Hellhole sometime in May or June, just waiting for those Russian people to come back.

3) Following that, I have been busy applying for all manner of funny scholarships to hopefully catapult me into nice flashy universities. Some of them have extremely tiaw ke people, as I came to find out today. I suppose they aren't very happy either about handing out wads of cash to people who most likely will outearn, outperform and outshine them in the future. Tough balls.

4) I travelled to Singapore again just recently to help out good ol' AJ in debating. I won't go into the details, but lets just say that I'm highly and utterly disappointed. When I stretch and push someone, it's so that she could maximize every scrap of talent, talent that would see her well to becoming a World Schools debater. If you can't take it, it's no skin off my fucking nose. I'm not gonna get any glory, regardless of your brilliant success or ignominous defeat.

5) My return trip from Hellhole was hellish! I rushed from Taka after meeting Joy, Amba and Vaibhav, went to Newton, took 170, stood next to X number of big hairy Indian workers, fell asleep squished next to a big fat guy, ran across many MANY dangerous, lorry filled roads coz I walked up to the Checkpoint, stood in line, fell asleep and fell down while waiting at immigration, got shouted at by fat old auntie while boarding the bus, protected my stupid cream puffs from jostling, sweaty ppl, ran to Johor side. Haiz. But I found a nice taxi driver who only cheated me moderately and got to the airport on time. Only to find that the flight was delayed by 3 hours, til 12 MIDNIGHT.

6) Thankfully, Danny picked me up at about 1.45 am, whereby we picked up Dian and went off for drinkies and eclairs. Life is normal, sweet and serene again.

Thank you Lord.

Starry, Starry Night

2006-02-19T12:33:00.000+08:00

We went to Damai yesterday night. Armed with an arsenal of Absolut Citron and 5 different kinds of soft drinks, beer, milk, green tea and anything else that seemed remotely liquid, we set off on the journey.

I never knew it would be so difficult to sneak into Damai! Apparently, in recent days security has been beefed up to prevent moochers like us from mooching on the private beaches, so we had to use every evasion tactic we knew to sneak in. We scurried by the guards, pretended to talk to aunties on the phone, and in my case, ate cookies while trying to look innocent.

Incidentally, the PM was there! Amazingness... he even had his own police guard and attendant police CARS brought in from KL.

So after much heartache and hoping the PM wouldn't suddenly pop out of a room, surrounded by god-knows how many guards and spy 5 furtive looking guys carrying a huge cooler full of unhalal stuff and eating butter cookies, we finally managed to wriggle our way to the beach.

'Twas an amazing, truly truly beautiful night. Cloudless and serene, with a generous sprinkling of stars scattered across a velvet night sky. There was a light breeze playing across the beach, one which ruffled the waves and hummed through the palm trees.

I can't really describe the rest of the night. To list it in terms of activities done would be an injustice, and if this blog is meant to be my only tangible memory of the best night of my life, then words would not suffice. We broke out the vodka, mixed screwdrivers, added milk, and lay down on the beach to look at the stars. I started singing Eternal Flame, and soon we were all going through our entire repertoire of songs.

Before long we were slightly drunk, laughing non-stop and singing at the top of our voices. We danced around on the beach and flopped down quickly when people started switching on their room lights (had a sinking dread that Badawi was staying in the penthouse nearby and would open the windows to shout apa nyanyi nyanyi, aku tidur la at us, lol).

And that's all we did. We brought cards, snacks, various bits of entertainment. But at the end of the day, all we needed were some drinks and the unfettered pleasure of each other's company, singing songs for hours and sipping drinks, walking along the damp beach sand and dipping our toes in the low tide, giving toasts to friends present and absent. There are so many of both.

And I will never forget the moment when everyone crashed together and started singing StJo's anthem. The only song for us.

It rained soon after 1.30 am, possibly due to an abundance of bad singing. We frantically packed up all our shit, and a few accidentally took too much neat vodka in a hasty effort to prevent wastage (lets just say that the drive home was rather... stressful).

I remember I once was truly depressed over not getting the ASEAN Sec 3 scholarship. But I would trade any number of years of studying, just to have a night like yesterday. A night where I could really just laugh and fuck around and be completely, absolutely, utterly happy. And where else could I have found friends like that?

The world can hang itself, and so can fame and fortune and all that other fucking bullshit. If the final goal of this were happiness and contentment...

But on the highway of life, there's no time to stop the car. Only enough time for a pit-stop.

St. Jo rocks.

P.S. Rah, thanks for talking to us yesterday! We'll all go again during Rainforest, with the Russia and KL ppl :)

Turban Bombs

2006-02-18T13:36:00.000+08:00

In recent days, I've been highly pissed off by the waves of hand-wringing over those stupid cartoons of the Prophet.

When I first heard about it, I thought that it was an interesting issue. I don't really blame the Muslims, because everyone has a pet cause that is dear to their heart. And don't try to justify it by aggrandizing your crusade! You know its just that: A pet cause which happens to be shared by many people. And I for one, will not merit it any more sympathy than an irate football fan who has had his favorite team slammed.

But then! I read the NST. And in it, one of their supposedly senior writers put forward a pretty nice piece promoting tolerance and expounding the logic of not reinforcing perceptions of Muslim violence.

He fucked it all up by branding all non-Muslims as heathens and infidels in the end.

At first glance, this is truly laughable. I would laugh at you, sir. He whom the gods would destroy, they first make foolish. And there can be no person more foolish than a 21st century man living in a 15th century world. Heathens? Infidels? You sound like something out of a fucking Tom Clancy novel, and god alone knows he writes the most bigoted pro-American, anti-Islam books in the world.

I have absolutely no problem with people calling me names. Even though it is in a national newspaper, by a man supposedly well-educated, saying this while preaching sensitivity in the same breath.

Call me a purblind idiot who treats religion like a game if you want. But by calling me a heathen and an infidel, you reveal to the world that you, for all your professed sophistication, might as well be wearing a turban and wielding a sword while shouting Allahu Akbar.

Today, I read a brilliant commentary in the Economist concerning the cartoons.

The crux of the issue is this: Should the freedom of western newspapers be subjected to the control of eastern opinion?

As the Economist says, the control of newspapers in the west has for so long been the province of newspapers. Freedom of press is a key ingredient in their brand of democracy. The press is the 4th estate, after all, and for governments to intervene in what should solely be a dispute between the press and the Muslims is mistaken.

Let's consider a few questions.

1) The Holocaust is restricted; why not the Prophet?

Simple answer, you fool. Both should not be restricted. It is easier to justify restriction clauses when they are aimed at protecting people, such as libel or slander, as compared to thought-control laws. Holocaust laws are aimed at controlling the way people think, and in my opinion function as a constant apologetic grin at the Jews. I'm not an anti-Semite, but year upon year I read the moaning testimonies of promises of eternal vigilance during the Holocaust anniversary, and I consider the stoic silence of Cambodians, Rwandans, Chechens and the like who have shut up and moved on with their lives. Thanks.

Anyway, the fact is that both should not be restricted, and likely if there were no restrictions there would be caricatures of Jews as well. The key point here is not to debate the righteousness of the Muslims, but rather to note that in the Holocaust/Prophet comparison, it would be wiser to push for lifting restrictions on both rather than closing down everything. Democracy is as much a religion of the west as Islam is in the east. And the secondary issue is, in a dispute between Press and Muslims, when the Press is guilty of bad taste and legally nothing more, should their own western governments step in to appease the baying for blood? I say nothing of the Sarawak Tribune; it's Malaysia for god's sake, if you couldn't use your brain to extrapolate the consequences, unfair as they might seem, tough balls.

2) Freedom of speech should be tempered by responsibility.

Yes. But sensitivity cannot always mandate silence. Protecting freedom of expression will always involve some people getting hurt, whether it's the government getting criticized roundly and having their scandals exposed, or it's the Prophet getting caricatured. Having responsibility imposed upon you from above puts you, the western media, back on the level of Iran and Pakistan.

3) Shouldn't we limit them in the name of peace?

There are many things western papers could do to ease relations, but shutting up is not one of them. The Economist points out that people who feel threatened by globalization and the encroachment of culture/religion will not love their neighbours better even if they are forced into silence. An outlet for venting of frustration is missing, and I personally believe that a tolerance fostered under duress is no tolerance at all. If a child is sheltered all his life, does that make him stronger than a child who has been allowed to fall down and hurt, a child who knows how to hit back when hit?

Finally, my own views. I believe that any religion is a personal relationship between oneself and God. If others comment and criticize it, why should it matter to you? Is your faith so weak that it shall be shaken by the brickbats of strangers? Is God so weak that his power shall be diminished by the lampoons of a minority? Why are you angry if you know in your heart what is true and what is false, if you know that the majority is of your mindset? By reacting so strongly to a provocation which is, by all accounts, minor in the extreme, you prove that your faith is nothing more than a sampan on the water, swayed by the winds of opinion, rather than an iceberg which is immutable and inexorable.

Think before we act. The consequences of action can often be far more devastating than those of inaction.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2006-02-18T11:12:00.000+08:00

We sent Rah off at the airport.

In a superhuman effort of colossal proportions, we struggled up from bed the day after Valentine's and trooped off to the airport, to see off a friend who will be gone for a very long time.

There's not much point in recounting the minutiae of what we did and what we saw, because an airport is only an airport.

If ever you get down or stressed Rah, think back to the innumerable milos and roti canais we had, nearly every night.

Think back to the common glue that binds us, DotA! And the days of Perry using me as a bloody secretary to message each and every one of you, coordinating arrival times and persuading the cheesecake deprived. My wallet has never recovered.

Think back to our nightly games, the noobs we owned.

Think back to all the happy afternons at club, our struggles of sitting down and drinking 100 Plus while talking about exercise, versus actually GOING to the damn gym. The badminton games where I embarassed Tim forevermore, the jogging with Ehren, the monkeys at Reservoir!

Think back to the karaoke sessions! Your PDA with the pinyin for Silence... thank god for that or I would have been singing a solo which would not be cool at all. Incidentally, I never did tell you but after you left we realized you were the only one driving and we had to walk back to Merdeka Palace while Jeremy was tipsy (though he'll never admit it). Scary shit.

Think back to the fishing, and of course being outwitted by the fish... sigh...

And best of all, think back to our plotting and scheming on Valentine's eve. I think we owe Tim a lot, and I owe both you and him much for that fateful, impromptu evening visit.

It was a break of fun and joy; but you've gotten back on the road towards your goal. As will we all eventually.

But Kuching is only a rest-stop along the highway of life; one that each and everyone of us from St. Jo comes back to, always. Leave it with the assurance that you will be back, and when you are, things will not have changed in the slightest.

Leaving people is a sadness; a place is only a place.

And as you travel down Life's highway, we'll always be with you in the car.

The Fisher and The Fished

2006-02-13T23:26:00.000+08:00

I have officially recovered from the experience that is fishing and can now go about relating to all!

Where to begin?

As someone once said, begin at the beginning, and end at the end.

A bit difficult because there was no clear-cut beginning though...

Scene 1: The night before

There we were at Colors, eating waffles, when we felt an urge. An irresistable urge that pulled us inexorably to the place of utterly amazing coffee: Bing!

Plus, Jeremy was mooching around in the bowling alley so we had to go there to meet him anyway.

Being low on cheesecakes, we had no choice but to share several coffees among many people. But, there's always that shared sense of camaraderie when you're imbibing other people's saliva. Yum yum.

Tim, of course, astutely noted that it was a Guys Nite Out. Being the ever-observant one, I had to add on that it was Guys Nite Out, as usual. But there's nothing quite like lots of guys all drinking coffee (unless its lots of guys drinking beer). A night to remember, especially since its like the last Bing! outing we'll have with Rah. Bye Rah! God bless!

Neither rain nor shine nor rains of green gooey frogs will stop us from THE GAME, so upon reaching home it was yet another exciting match of AP Proz Only Noob FUKOFF (impressed le Jason, I've leveled up). But as is always the case, one wasn't enough, so before long it was 4 a.m.

We were leaving at 6.

Ah dota... my soul is yours...

Hence, I liberally dosed myself with caffeine and mooched around the house. Incidentally, for the Hellhole veterans who haven't drunk the stuff for some time, try not to. Can't get used to the jugs we drank in the past, better survive on small little sips from now on.

At 6 (my god I saw the sun rise!) I bumbled off and picked up all the various sheep. Do you know what its like to see sunrise after 4 months?! Unbelievable. It was like black then reddish then blue... like precipitation tests but cooler.

Ok to cut a long story short we ate breakfast, suffered car breakdown, got lost, got scolded, and finally ended up at the fishing place.

Really picturesque place, BUT this fucking bee kept on chasing me around as soon as I got there because I was apparently wearing yellow. Wtf... do I look like a bloody flower.

Anyway, after much dodging, we finally got down to fishing.

Scene 2: The fishing

Picture this: We've got less fishing implements than neanderthals. the predominant instrument of fishy death is this:

Except me, who invested numerous cheesecakes in buying an ACTUAL FISHING ROD.

Unspeakably though, the fish all evaded my amazing rod and WENT FOR BRYAN'S STUPID SUNDROP TIN!

WHICH HE PICKED UP FROM THE GARBAGE!

omg. the unfairness of it all.

The highlight of the day was when Ehren pandai pandai cast the reel for me (I gave up on the fucking fishing rod) and threw the whole thing into the water. Sebas went nuts cos it was his, so we labored to fish the fishing reel out, casting our lines near it.

Ok, so now we have the reel. And upon yanking it out, what did we find at the end?

A bloody, ass-sucking fish.

It won't bite when we fish carefully and tempt it with all sorts of treats, but it snags itself on an empty hook attached to a reel that we threw into the water.

What the hell.

To cut another long story short, that's the only godforsaken fish I caught that day. Ehren caught one with nothing but line in his hands, and Seb caught 3!!

three!!!

Understandably, we were all uberly jealous, and probably would have been happier eating at a coffee shop instead of being outwitted by overly intelligent fish and chased by amorous bees.

Ah well... its another amazing experience in the life of BenLo. All I can say is, don't knock fishy intelligence: They got plenty of free meals, and I missed lunch.

Plus! I rammed my car into a bush coz I fell asleep driving home. Coffee has its limits, as I forgot.

I didn't go fishing... I was fished.

New Experiences and the Cheesecake Index

2006-02-09T23:04:00.000+08:00

Ok so there we were at Senso, which in my estimation is a horribly overpriced sorry excuse for a club. No matter what the rest say, I still think we would all be better served by going to a coffeeshop and drinking milo. But! I shall not degenerate into whining about the rm19.5 Whole Garden beer I had.

Still, rm19.5 is a HELL lot of money. I mean, my god I thought that back here I'd be able to get cheap drinks and lime vodka for something remotely reasonable! Expenditure in Kuching is remarkably high, considering this is a town where the height of entertainment seems to be going to Senso. According to Ehren's cheesecake index, one dota session is one slice of cheesecake. If we play futsal, that's another slice. When we went to Senso, between us we spent a whopping 5 entire cheesecakes!!

AND THE DRINKS WEREN'T EVEN NICE!

Enough about Senso.

Anyways, so being very bored and all, because again Senso is uberly tedious and probably only worthwhile going to if you wanna show you got cheesecakes to burn, we decided to go:

Karaoke.

Entirely new experience alert! Previously, I was pretty sure that karaoke lounges were smoke filled, dimly lit places where horrible unearthly shrieks somehow escape the tightly shut doors. There would be again more cheesecake intensive beers, really crappy music and cheap karaoke lounge hostesses trying to give us...beer. Ahem.

Well, as it turned out, I was right on ALL counts except for the lounge hostesses (damn). This message goes out to Lin Sien and Jason: I'm sorry for the times I inflicted my singing upon you guys! Err... lets just say that karaoke forces you to see the ugly truths. Or hear them.

But the strange thing is, in spite of all the wailing, terrible off-key singing (sorry Seb but Pretty Woman is NOT your song), smoke-marinated air and again, triple-slice-cheesecake beer, it was pretty damn fun. There's a certain camaraderie of being embarassed together and screaming your lungs out, of fucking up song lyrics and scaring away all customers sitting outside the lounge.

And I guess if I had to be honest with myself, it brought back some memories too, of a time not so long ago when singing was just as commonplace, but with perhaps slightly more... tuneful... accomplices.

Ah... the futility of pointless nostalgia. Karaoke again this Saturday! But after the next new experience: Fishing. Woots!

Sublime Success!

2006-02-06T18:00:00.000+08:00

Yes!!

Carpe diem indeed!

After mooching around Kuching, forsaking what few friends I have who haven't flown the coop, and driving up and down trying to find parking, I have done it.

But first, about the parking.

Let it be known that driving is highly overrated. Parking is insanely hard to find, and since I have the temperament of a meek kitten and the tracking instincts of a dead clam, I have utterly no chance of fighting for that last, coveted, much-sought-after parking space right outside Saberkas. As soon as I try to nudge my car into it, so many people honk at me you'd think I was running down their mothers.

Never mind. Ben has trained himself to walk to and fro for 2 years, leaving the hostel at 6.55 am sharp and making the 7.09 am train just as the fucking doors close. Ownage.

Problem is, I'm forced to park so far I might as well walk to the damn place from my house. PLUS I need to cross 2 major streets on foot, which makes me look like a lakia who doesn't have a car.

Ah... the things I do for my Internet.

Anyway, after much arguing with the auntie at Compumart, and standing behind the fat guy fiddling with my router in a dingy room that smells of fried chicken and is full of Fuchows, the conclusion is that everything works fine, just that my account is invalid.

What. The. Hell.

Screw it. So I prepare to pop off home, but am suddenly summoned to the gym by Ehren. Upon meeting him, I find he miraculously has the number for TMnet, which I have failed to obtain because stupid operator at 103 isn't picking up my call!!

Whereby I hastily call Streamyx, force them to cough up my password, and hurry off home. Gym can wait another day.

Wow. So far, it's like playing an RPG. BenLo 2: Lord of Distraction.

Back home! Quickly set up all the squidgy bits and pieces only God (or Zhuu Ming) would know how to use, before booting up my buggy laptop.

After much prayer and fiddling with funny lines of numbers and restarting, poking, prodding and general tweaking of modem/router, it works!!

I'M ON GOOGLE!

But true to form, Ben doesn't stop at second best. I start to fiddle around with more suspicious looking bits like Port-Forwarding and LAN Clients and godknowswhat. Have this horrible feeling analogous to the guy holding 4 cards totalling 17 and is fishing for a 5th.

But this time, it's definitely ngo leong.

I join Blueserver to create game, and find that loads of DotA-seekers are flocking to "AP noobs only pro fukoff". Wahahaha! Now that I can host (I CAN HOST!), no longer will I suffer laggy games or spend 30 mins with the gang trying to find a host that will take all 5 of us.

Life is all about taking utmost pleasure in small victories. For some people (ie me) who will never taste the grand successes offered up on silver platters to the talents of the world, we shall enjoy each minuscule triumph earned over the forces of Nature which seek to squish us. Like the Compumart auntie. You can't be a loser forever.

The Critical Difference

2006-02-06T11:08:00.000+08:00

Contrary to popular belief, Singapore is not a pure Hellhole.

There was many a morning when I could wake up and be completely taken aback. On mornings such as these, one could look out into the courtyard and witness a scene that was breathtaking in the synergy of its parts. Maybe a single wooden swing, damp with morning dew, is powerful in itself. A pale blue sky freshly washed from the gentle dawn drizzle might be beautiful as well. Sweet air, briskly blowing on my face, is delightful.

But take them all together, and you have an experience that glows against the backdrop of pain like an angel in hell.

Yet this joy is always shortlived. There's only so long you can stand at the balcony, sipping hot milo (preferably made by a roommate), before the grim reality of work tugs on you inexorably. Work pulls you down as surely as gravity on a falling rock.

Now, back home.

Take that same blue sky, that same morning dew, that same chirping bird and fresh air and a million other minute morning mysteries, to get the same stunning effect. A feeling not of breathless anticipation (that's for a roller-coaster ride, those authors pick the worst descriptors). But rather, a sense of serene promise, an unbreakable oath that today will be a great day.

And the critical difference? That I can make good on that promise.

Carpe diem.

Hierarchy of Needs

2006-01-30T22:17:00.000+08:00

I'm very very bored.

And, I suppose I've been posting far too many unhappy and depressing posts, which do little to motivate the average human being, while doing everything to convince him of my (absolutely accurate) assessment that life is shit and needs to be privatized.

So henceforth I shall seek to improve the quality and efficiency of everyone's lives by imparting little nuggets of wisdom which I have mined from the pits of Singapore.

Chief among them is of course, laundry minimization.

I used to subscribe to the popular belief that the clothes on our back should be clean, or at least moderately so. However, this prejudice of mine resulted in mounds of laundry which demanded to be washed, dried and (shudder) ironed. So clearly, the answer is in REDUCTION.

But as college students, we shall not degrade ourselves to merely putting on what doesn't smell too foul! How unscientific!

Grade 1 Shirts (Biohazard level minimal)
Shirts which have been worn not more than a total of 6 hours running, including sleeping and mooching. May be worn up to a total of 18 hours or 3 days with refresh periods in between, whereby the shirt is placed flat-out on a surface in prayer that somehow the germs will follow the diffusion gradient. After hour limit is reached, shirt classification shall be upgraded to Grade 2 Danger.

Note: Grade 1 is guaranteed to prevent unworthy comment of an energy saving measure, unless in proximity of female noses, which are known to be remarkably picky and particular.

Grade 2 Shirts: (Biohazard level Dangerous)
In occasional circumstances, we find ourselves unable to adhere to Grade 1 quality standards, especially for high-demand items like uniforms. Hence, upon reclassification, the shirt may now be considered to be emitting odors which are easily detected by surrounding olfactory sensors. Should it prove impossible to either stay at home or wash the item (highly unlikely), suggestion for handling of such material include application of large amounts of cologne, or the tried and tested method of looking at a nearby friend and asking: "Is your shirt ok? Must be the laundry auntie again..."

Pants:
A well-noted phenomenon is that pants sniffing is rare among normal members of society. Hence, we can infer that it is relatively safe to allow pants to enter Grade 2, or even the exotic Grade 3 (Mobile Death). People will almost never bend down to have a sniff at your nether regions, unless they have dropped a coin in your vicinity. Proceed at your own discretion, but avoid sitting down as that has been known to reduce pant-nose distance by a factor of 4.

Underwear:
The same rules for pants apply here, except to a greater degree. However, while we may escape unwarranted criticism of an otherwise environmentally-friendly policy, be warned that extra time and expense may be incurred in event of unfortunate fungal growth.

Socks:
Quite possibly the most vexing item of clothing available. Putting on socks inevitably forces the wearer into close proximity with the material, usually eliciting an instinctive sniff to assess sock Grade. If your conscience permits you to wear the items in spite of nerve refusal, by all means go ahead. Surprisingly, recent evidence has shown that though sock-nose distance exceeds pant-nose distance by a large margin, sensory detection of offensive compounds is significantly greater. One can assume that due to the smaller area of sock, the smell is thus concentrated and projected by warm thermals rising from the ground. If all else fails, borrow a pair of socks from kind roommates who never ask for them back, because socks borrowed suffer a 90% laundry casualty rate.

Shoes:
Shoes ascend Grades at a remarkably slow level, possibly due to incremental daily increase that renders surrounding noses immune to its unique smell. Wash 2 times a year, only when you have absolutely nothing to do. Otherwise, placing the shoes in bright sunlight for a period of time not less than 3 hours will give everyone who sees it the impression that you have recently washed your shoes, thus satisfying all requirements while saving you the onerous task of actually washing them. In event of peculiar odors, apply the Scapegoat Friend policy at your own discretion.

The author of this blog shall not be held responsible for loss of smell, friends and relationships stemming from policy implementation.

Logic | Emotion

2006-01-28T15:11:00.000+08:00

The natural human is an animal without logic. A projection of logic onto all affairs is unnatural, but suffered and perhaps encouraged for its continued usefulness. Problem solutions are concepts that are projected outside onto myself, to be studied and rolled around, examined from all sides.

Anything outside myself, I can see and apply logic to it. But it's a human trait that when we encounter personal problems, those things most deeply personal are the most difficult to bring our logic to scan.

Frank Herbert, Dune

A really good articulation of a paradox which everyone has seen and nattered about for millennia but few have solved, precisely because the very problem we have identified prevents correction of itself.

So we can see problems, deficiencies in others almost immediately and use our logic to reason out what might be the best path of correction. But once applied to ourselves, it is either viewed as unnecessary or in my case, unowrkable.

Tadaa! The great mystery of life solved.

But solving it has about as much use as trying to appease personal emotion with offerings of external logic. How is it that so often, we can anticipate an upcoming situation (for example naggy elders) wafting our way, prepare a plan of control and action, yet find ourselves unable to implement it? Every single time I see a naggy episode come up, primary behavior modulators and controls power up, but as soon as it begins all my irritation surge-protectors fail horribly. We can tell ourselves to death that they mean well and this is irrelevant to the grander scheme of things like world domination, but by God it doesn't stop us from popping a fuse.

It boils down to emotion, which surely overrides all reason.

Therefore, do we counter emotion with emotion? Is it a worthwhile process to console the disconsolate by attempting to negotiate with his absent rationality, or would it be better to sympathize with the emotional, primal, ANIMAL side of people? Why spend forever and a day telling a friend to look on the bright side, find the silver lining and keep a stiff upper lip? Any projections of the "brightness" of the future is inevitably a petition to the Rational, which would long since have fled in face of Emotion.

Pessimism may be our inheritance from evolution, as much as our vertebrae is. Pessimism and preparation for the worst surely must be a selected-for instinct, rather than an inexplicable hope that the future will be better than the bleak present. Imagine a squirrel, living through the dying days of autumn and trusting somehow, that nuts will fall like manna from heaven in the dead nights of winter. Of course, some may point to Hope and say that is what separates us from animals, makes us more than animals.

They assume.

They assume we are not animals.

Fractal Life

2006-01-27T21:39:00.000+08:00

Talking about Dota’s reflection of life has led down interesting avenues.

Every experience we undergo in our daily lives, from the most banal to the most extraordinary, is similar to the process of Life at larger and smaller scales. Life is a fractal that repeats itself infinitely in every aspect, at every degree of magnitude, life is a mirror of Life in every manner.

For example.

My trip to the dentist. This experience encompasses most main human emotions, and since emotions may well be what make us human, they can therefore be approximated to a good representation of an life.

Dread:

Dentist
The underlying emotion that permeates my life, crystallized into a sparkling shard that slices deep into my bowels. After all, when you’ve got numerous proto-cavities to fill the next day, and you just KNOW the dentist is gonna drill all the way into the dentine, it’s hard not to feel dread. Dread is an amazing, integral, HUMAN emotion. It’s insidious: You can’t look at it full on. A mist of unease that floats through the empty caverns of your mind. As you desperately focus on some other diverting task like Dota, the creeping queasiness builds till you stop short in your tracks and realize that it’s DREAD.

A-levels
Now if the dentist was bad, imagine what A-Level results will be like.

Pain:

Dentist
Ah… the pain that lets us know we’re alive. Unfortunately. Pain comes in two dental forms: Instant and prolonged. The sudden, sharp buzz of the edged drill biting away into soft, sensitive dentine, sends lightning twitches of almost-pain into the brain. Now this instant pain is really formidable, because it hits you harder as you’re all keyed up for it, Dread seeping through adrenaline soaked nerves and highlighting the inevitable pain. Plus, if you want to retain any semblance of guyhood, no screams allowed. So our expressions of that guerrilla pain are limited to manly grunts, signifying: Not very painful, just… uncomfortable. Our twitching toes that clench and curl, hidden in the blue Nikes, tell a completely different story.

A-levels
Prolonged pain, however, is so many times worse. It hits like a sledgehammer (or at the very least, a Stun Bolt). Then instead of fading away, it builds on itself autocatalytically, feeding pain with pain to generate more pain! Such is the effect of A-Level results. Incidentally, it’s amplified by Dread.

Joy:

Dentist
Surprise surprise! Joy DOES indeed appear in my mini-documentary of dental visits and A-Level juxtaposition (woo, Phantom Lancer). This joy blossoms like a flower hidden deep under winter snows of pain and dread, and only in the occurrence of blessed reliefs. Like the dentist putting the bloody drill down. Suddenly, your heart soars. Could it be that he’s finished a tooth? Maybe now it’s time for the weird bitter whitish stuff to be applied? No more drilling?

A-levels
Similarly, I suppose, seeing the teacher smile at you while holding out the damned results might provoke the same response.

But there’s always a catch, because the next facet of humanity is…

Disappointment:

Dentist
Nope, the drill’s back. Was just a breather for the dentist to shine a light at my tooth. And before long the pain and dread are back in waves, with the terrifyingly shrill whine of the drill screeching away in the background of agony. Silly little flower shrivels up and dies from withering cold. Disappointment, incidentally, is accentuated by Joy, or her misguided and deluded sister, Hope.

A-Levels
So naturally, the teacher holding out the results will in fact have plastered the smile into place since 5 a.m. and is happily doling out million-watt grins to every single student who bumbles across. Of course, I’ll only realize this AFTER I get the results and wonder whether she’s mocking me.

Jealousy:

Dentist
Now sometime in the middle of all this pain and insistent drilling, one usually glances out of the door (after exhausting entreaties upward to Heaven). There, you will see supposedly unconcerned patients reading mags, while actually they suffer the preliminary stages of Dread as it is. Unfortunately, you also happen to sometimes note the happy patient which has recently been discharged, satisfied in the knowledge that he has performed a great service in feeding starving dentists across the country WHILE perfecting a set of shiny white gnashers. Good for you, assprick. That’s when Jealousy sets in. Not enough to override the pain of course, but still…

A-levels
Plenty of opportunity here, since I was foolish enough to position myself in a group of people who might be analogously considered discharged patients with teeth so white and shiny they’d blind Zeus.

And finally…

Schadenfreude

Dentist
This cute lil’ German word means something like happiness at other people’s unhappiness. That kicks in full blow when you’re finally off the goddam couch, have paid and mumbled thanks, and give a wide grin to the next incoming victim.

A-levels
I’m too nice to indulge in this.

So there you have it. All the facets of life as exposed by a trip to the dentist, coupled with a great comparison with A-level result-taking. After all, these are important stages of life, one that everyone has to go through.

Kind of like death, just not so merciful.

Aren’t we lucky to be human?

Author’s note: Of course, I may not have been able to describe the full range or depth of certain emotions, like Crushing Disappointment or Blind Jealousy, due to the limitations of small fry dentist trips. Rest assured though, once he personally experiences these primal emotions when the A-Level results are released in Feb, your intrepid reporter will be well qualified to document the entire plethora of suffering as could possibly be experienced by humans.

To See The World In A Grain Of Sand

2006-01-24T01:45:00.000+08:00

And Heaven in a wild flower.

Ok now consider how the whole world and all sundry aspects of daily life can essentially be distilled into one word:

DotA!!

Right. Lets look at it from tangible perspectives.

Presumably, if one plays nearly 12 hours of DotA a day, including ferrying pilgrims to the Mecca of cheap games, that would reliably be considered as "life revolves around DotA". Now, add on the idea that when we go out for drinkies, we talk about DotA. Hmm... and I guess that when we're supposed to be doing other things of purportedly greater benefit, such as having a good crap to remove those accumulating toxins in the system, we think about the DotA game we just had.

So we can conclude, that tangibly, DotA is life.

Ok. Move on to intangibles, that shadowy world of ephemeral emotions and thoughts.

Life is like dota. You see, as I impressed upon Leonard, and Danny impressed upon me, it doesn't matter if you're going through a rough patch in life. After all, we're late game heroes. So the key thing is, don't be a noob and leave now! Farm slowly, get the last hit, KEEP LOW, and pawn the motherfuckers later.

Godlike.

Driving for example!

Key concept here:

1) Don't simply change lane or people call you noob.
2) Don't chiong when you see fren chiong, or else both die and you're a noob.
3) Don't simply buy fugly items for your car (hero), or else you look like a Naix with 4 Nulls. And you are noob. Ah beng noob, but still very noob.

All life is DotA, and DotA is life.

P.S. Jason you very bored ler reading other ppl's blogs? Go do something productive.

Amazing Grace

2006-01-12T23:22:00.000+08:00

How sweet the sound...

Because Jared Diamond says we must find ultimate instead of proximate reasons, I will now have to analyze why I decided to take up blogging again after 10,000 years of inactivity.

1) Everyone has left!

Waa... How could they all leave so fast...

2) DotA is getting boring

Don't die of shock. It's been known to be fatal. Dotaing 6 hours a day is ALSO known to be fatal, at least to your social life.

3) I'm too lazy to do all the shit I said I would do.

Ok now this is pretty unforgivable, considering before I left the HellHole I swore till I was blue (Blueserver!!) in the face that I would work to improve moiself. Learn golf! Japanese! Cooking! Drums! woots woots woots... But why has Ben done nothing except brekkie in the morning (when awake), badminton/squash/sitting down in coffee shops and chit chatting in afternoon, and DotA (Blueserver!!) and yam cha at night??!! Where has the willpower/initiative/adamantium resolve of steel gone? Presumably the same way as my fascination with guitar... down the drain.

So now comes the time of reckoning. The days grow shorter (ok maybe not but it sounds portentous enough), the friends grow fewer, and as the Stark motto goes: Winter is Coming. So what now what now? Knuckle down and actually sign up for all that shit?

Maybe after this quick, last game of Dota.

And of course, Bleach 63 later.

And badminton/squash in the afternoon, can't break promises.

And movie tomorrow night.

Well, let's just say after the weekend then.

Maybe :D

Argh!

2005-06-18T22:38:00.000+08:00

I'm going nuts!

Between bloody Bio, Physics and Chem and Math I'm dying dying dying!

And PESA competition on Friday, haven't started practicing yet! The script is uberly difficult this time round... I need to train. I need to watch videos.

I need to do exercises for Math! Arghghghghghghghghghgh....

I need to go home...

The Return

2005-06-11T23:37:00.000+08:00

I'm going back tomorrow.

Back to that place.

But in the short time I have spent here, the sweet scent of freedom permeating every breath, I have enjoyed it thoroughly.

When we had the vodka and had it with every juice in the house; why didn't we try the cincau.

When we went out for dinner, eating that same food that I so hated in the past; now I love it.

When we went to play DotA; Don't worry Jeremy - Godlike will be yours. One day.

When we talked the night away and I tried to do my homework; failure has never been so fun.

When we sat outside my house watching the sun rise; never has it held so much meaning.

When we went out for breakfast; I think you guys knew I hadn't slept yet!

When everyone just drops by without warning so that we can go out; Spontaneity - How I miss it.

When we went for that final dinner tonight; Nostalgia. Just like the old days.

We leave, one by one. Some of us tomorrow. Some next week. Some next month. Some coming home, going back. All of us, stopping in that little town we sallied forth from, meeting what brothers we have with us; leaving footsteps for those who come behind us. And though so many aren't here, it's ok. Because it's kind of accumulative: After a while, everybody comes back.

Sometimes I wonder why I write this. It does nothing for my language. It probably matters only to that small minority of people whom I have come over these 5 years to love and cherish. But in months and years to come, I shall be looking back on these entries with a sigh. And I will say that these 2 years away from home has been the kiln by which our friendship was baked and glazed. The clay formed into a sculpture I can place in the prison cell of my mind and say:

Even if I have lost all -

I still have this.

Even in my darkest moments of despair -

I still have this.

I haven't seen a sunrise for ages. It's usually too dark when I'm running for the bus, and on weekends I'm in no mood to waste time watching balls of hydrogen illuminate the horizon.

But today's sun dawned on me as I sat outside, and I breathed that fresh air and enjoyed the pink tinge of morning and basked in the contentment of just sitting there with a friend doing absolutely nothing.

May all the suns of the future shine upon such happy mornings.

Til year end comes,
BenLo

Realignment

2005-06-09T23:45:00.000+08:00

Hey guys!

Kinda lazy to reply to all the tags, time runs short, and we must be efficient :)

Sorry I haven't posted for so long... just happened to think of my blog today and dropped by. Read my last entry, remembered what was happening, recalled our times spent together :)

Its been a terrible 2 months. Have never experienced anything like it: The desperation of early morning wakefulness; the weariness of late-night returns; the sinking feeling of paddling like hell and going nowhere; the depressing thought of wrong choices (again and again ad infinitum).

But here I stand now!

Back home!

Visiting each and everyone of you SORRY BITCHES!

AND GOD IT FEELS GOOD!

I'm gonna hunt you down, SimBitch. You can't hide from me, with that bullcrap about meeting the student body and shit. Tan, will look for you before I go back too. Su, you're (finally) back, you sorry Russian bastard. Jon, waiting! Saturday! Lawrence you fool, you're only back afterI go back to purgatory, but never mind, I'll be back in July, hopefully. Danny, I wanna go for supper!
Jeremy... incorrigible as ever.

And to the rest...past and present...whereabouts unknown...I'm still waiting for you to come home.

There will still be pain. Diminished? I can but hope. Sometimes its not the physical aspect of suffering that tortures, but the futilities of the mind and self-doubt that truly hurt. And yet, its always been all of you who have helped keep that at bay these few months. Like when I call back just for fucks, or when I get an email, or a long-distance SMS.

It makes all the difference.

Realigning perspectives, rejuvenating spirits, recharging for the final battle.

It's Getting Quiet In Here

2005-04-08T21:51:00.000+08:00

It's kinda quiet in my room now.

One of those nights when there's no one around, and I'm alone in the room, by myself, more alone than I've ever been at home.

I wonder where Su is. Or Lawrence. Or Sim. Or Andrew. Or Danny.

Wonder what they're doing now.

Wonder what's going on this Friday night, lovely and cool and calm, tranquil as I lie on my bed in a room that is at once too large and too small for me. The world passes me by, rivers of life flowing by muddy dirt banks.

Is there nothing else waiting for me? Nothing better?

I really hate nights like this. Sometimes it would be so good to just sleep and forget. But I can't sleep. And I can't forget. And the unending solitude of night, interspersed with the hectic clamor of day - Night/Day.

I haven't gone to church for so long.

If there's a God up there/
Something above/
God shine your light down here/
Shine on the love.

Early Morning Blues

2005-04-07T01:20:00.000+08:00

It's one of those mornings...

Past the witching hour of midnight, when the air turns chilly and silence pervades my room.

It's an unearthly sort of silence, an ethereal quiet that ignores the councillors slaving in nearby rooms, roommates gently snoring a foot away. It reminds me of those long nights (mornings?) I spent at home years ago, sitting in solitude at my table, by the light of a lamp, a book and a drink spread before me.

I have a lamp now. It's shaded with a pillow covering, casting a small, dim glow over the room.

I wonder what it would be like if I were home now. The air-conditioner humming gently in the background as I read my book and look at my cordless. Should I call someone? Would my friends be sleeping yet?

The call goes through, and it's another hour or so of languid talk while I stroll around the house aimlessly.

Aimlessly. That's the word. To just meander without purpose and know, its ok. Life works out.

Will it?

Aimlessly content. Let it be.

Sleep

2005-03-18T00:25:00.000+08:00

Sleep without thought.

Sleep without worry.

Sleep without guilt.

Sleep without despair.

Sleep without exhaustion.

Sleep without alarms.

Sleep without end.

The Way Things Stand

2005-03-07T22:24:00.000+08:00

Hard to believe that its been three months.

Three months of a cacophony of emotion, that lost feeling of deprivation that permeates and pervades my life.

There is a feeling, that life is passing me by, a torrent of experiences streaming past me, the solitary figure that stands upon the banks of Time and watches mutely at the flow of Life.

What is this Life?

Is it the shared experience of comfort and security that comes from the knowledge that tomorrow is another day to be enjoyed, a day like any other day in a litany of beautiful days?

Is it the gentle feeling of calmness that descends upon me as I embark on another adventure with kith and kin, my mind uncluttered by the thought of extraneous work?

I wouldn't know.

What does a fish know of flying? Or the damned of Heaven?

Surroundings dictate your experiences, experiences determine your personality. And maybe mine has been moulded into a shape and form of which I had never dreamed possible.

Maybe when you lead an empty and unfulfilling life, the only viable alternative is to fill it with task upon task, that the illusion of fulfilment might be achieved. And at the end of it all, a pervasive sense of realization, of the folly and foolishness of trying to fill an abyss with handfulls of sand.

Three months. Each day a step on broken glass, down this boulevard of broken dreams.

All Good Things...

2004-12-25T18:38:00.000+08:00

All good things, must come to an end.

So it came to pass, that I leave and return on the morrow.

And my respite, my sabbatical at home dies with with it. Time flew by swiftly, flitting through the warm glow of home, and now back out into that cold darkness.

The next time I return, who will remain? We've been scattered by the winds of fate once, and the blow looms large in the future, waiting to strike again come year end. Those in KL will be spirited off to Germany, UK, US; Su, Herman and Kelvin stuck in Russia; Vince and myself, languishing in Singapore.

We've played basketball, badminton, gone to Damai, fought over Warcraft, went for drinks, ate dinners, visited school, met teachers...we've said our last rites and final farewells to a life that should have been forgotten 365 days ago. So why does the memory still linger?

It's been a holiday of nostalgia, a stroll down the meandering garden path of memory, enclosed by copses and groves of the past. So many gone; it's a litany of faces not here. So many changed; they wear masks I do not remember. But yet so many are steadfast, in principles, beliefs, behaviour, attitude, friendship.

I told Andrew how I've wasted my holiday. I told him that my drive, my discipline I gained from Singapore was leached away like water in the desert upon coming back. But maybe what really happened was me shaking off the costume that I have been forced to wear, an outfit that never really fit me in the first place.

What of the future? What does it hold? Will it be, as I expect, another year as the past year has been? But I can face it now, refreshed and rejuvenated by my own Fountain, ready to look the Future in the eye, and spit in its face.

Jon told me I needed to go home, one night a long, long time ago. Home is not a place, it is a mindset, an atmosphere, a gathering. Speak not of wasted time and spent days; for every second spent basking in present memories of the past is a waste only to those who have not hearts nor homes, those who have been tried, tested and of emotion, are found wanting.

But all good things must come to an end.

Of Holidays and Holidaying - Day 2

2004-12-22T01:50:00.000+08:00

Bloody hell was locked out of my room today!

Was mooching around in Lawrence's room and at 3 a.m when tried to go back, some IDIOT double-locked it. Had to go back to Lawrence's room and sleep with neither pillow nor blanket.

Decided to eat brekkie for myself today, since after all I had suffered the most that night. God it was cold... Went for breakfast with Darald. Food was pretty lousy though, perhaps they imagine that quantity makes up for quality.

Another day of basketball! We played ball the whole day till we got washed away again. Sigh... basketball is something I can barely play anymore. If only I had more time and opportunity to have a game.

The day passed by in a blur, alternating between swimming and PS2 and lounging around in the room. But thankfully, night rolled in soon enough, and we all set off to have dinner.

Went to Beach to eat this time, and horribly embarassing it was! The place was all deserted and spooky, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Upon ordering, we suffered from the same malaise that plagues us always: Indecision. The oyster omellette was a no-brainer, but from there we went seriously off track. I mean, black pepper beef is always always a sure bet! But Jon insisted on beef with kailan, among other things.

The most embarassing part came when it was time to order drinks! Pepsi, Coke, same thing lah~~ but there is apparently a subtle difference to the experienced connoiseiur. Then ice lemon tea in a tin, and ice lemon tea from normal tea. And then, chrysanthemum tea from a box, and real chrysanthemum tea. We went round and round, till the poor waitress couldn't take it anymore, so she shut us all up and made us RAISE OUR HANDS WHEN SHE CALLED OUT THE DRINKS! There we were, 17 and 18 years of age, meekly raising up our hands when "Coke" was called. Everybody stared at us. And Lawrence had to rub salt in the wound.

" How many scholars at the table? Wah, 4 of them! And we don't know how to order drinks."

Ouch.

The oyster omellette was tiny! Disappeared after one round...Damnation. But still, was a very good meal, except for the beef with kailan, which, as I couldn't resist pointing out to Jon, should rightfully be called kailan with beef. The only beef present was probably in microscopic slivers cowering in the folds of all that kailan.

We had to bundle in with a family of six into the shuttle back to the hotel, and I could tell the strain of behaving and keeping quiet was getting to everybody. Jeremy was the first to crack, as he started to whistle Melodies of Life and sing the Love Actually song that seems to have become our unofficial theme song. The whole family hunkered down and was probably praying for deliverance as we exploded and started talking about pretty much everything, liberally sprinkling the usual vulgarities along the way.

'Twas a beautiful, non-rainy night today. We went down to the beach about 12 a.m, just to look at the waves crashing upon the beach. The air was still, signifying that calm before a storm.

I stood there, with Jon, Jeremy, Andrew and Adrian. In the distance, some of our schoolmates were strolling along the beach, leaving behind their footprints in the wet sand. We stood there, talking and enjoying the peace and solitude it afforded us, breathing the sea breeze and letting the sea water lap at our feet. The sand shifted beneath our soles, the waves crashed against our shins.

But we stood there, isles of permanence in a sea of change.

Of Holidays and Holidaying - Day 1

2004-12-21T09:30:00.000+08:00

Damai - Day 1

Drove up today, all 7 of us squished into one Unser, ready for our holiday in Damai.

It's been so long since we've all gotten together; Adrian, Jon, Chan, Andrew, Yee Kiat, Jerm, myself... Against all odds, we beat the St. Jo virus of planning without action, and finally we were ready!

Met Lawrence, brothers, Darald and huge gang of juniors when we reached there. Damai has wireless broadband now! Lol we hung around the lobby trying to access the connection, guessing the username and password. It's impossible to describe the sort of banter that we can engage in, so different from the sometimes superficial stuff I get elsewhere. Andrew's rambutans, Chan's hairstyle, girls walking in and girls walking out... Everything under the sun. And Naruto! Chan has the whole bloody collection of Naruto! My life is complete!

The trip nearly didn't materialize, what with me being sent back to Singapore, Jeremy's father and last-minute reversals, Esmond's stupid driving trip, Rahim sick, Sim carolling. But in spite of the forces of darkness arrayed against us, the Light triumphed, and there we were.

First activity? Basketball, duh~ Bernard is really quite scary on the court, full of caustic comments ready to be hurled at team members not playing up to standard. Never shoot in with him. Tennis, basketball, squash, we played them all. Sigh...it was such a scene of nostalgic reminiscence. We used to do this every day, play basketball, talk about life, the future, and of course gossip about the pariahs of the school.

Rain washed us out soon, so we went back, and started the second staple Damai activity: PS2. God, some things never ever change. Shouting and screaming reigned in exactly 3 minutes after we switched it on, and the dreaded ang moh couple next door soon came over to scream at us.

This time round, we were far better prepared in terms of makan. Last year was a debacle of over-confidence: Nobody brought any food. We had to rely on Lawrence and one small metal pot to cook Maggi for 3 days, all 15 of us. This year, we brought enough snacks and stuff to tide us over till dinner. Went to Buntal by shuttle, Adrian was crying in his heart (I could tell), counting off the seconds till we could get into the chow.

Ordering food when we get together is always such an ordeal... Oyster omellettes, black pepper beef, that was easy. Then drinks, what with Chan and his "Never mind, I'll drink later" policy, and Jeremy lost his phone!

"Never mind, cheap phone," he said. But the next thing you know we were mobilized on a huge search to find out where he dropped the damn thing.

Food was good, we sat down, relaxed and polished everything off. Adrian took three whole bowls of rice, I think he can put Alex to shame! We mooched around, found Jeremy's handphone in the shuttle, and popped off home.

(Interlude: Stealing all the buffet food we can and putting them in Coco Crunch boxes as I speak. Highly embarassing. I'm being used as a shield to make sure we aren't spotted.)

The night was whiled away with a lot of guitar and singing, much to Lawrence's irritation cos we were disrupting his PS2 session. Haha and we played Monopoly of all things! Note: Don't play Monopoly with Chan when he's had a few.

Ivan and the whole gang came down to swim in the rain, and that was the end of our idyllic night. Loud shouting and scolding was heard through all our rooms as the squatted in with us. They were swimming in the freezing rain (Damai seems to always be like this when we go down) till they got chased off by the guards. No wonder Damai doesn't like having student guests!

Ah...was the good life, just hanging around in the room, playing cards, singing to the strumming of Jon, Chan and Jeremy's guitars.

Just What Goes On In All-Girls Schools?

2004-12-18T02:22:00.000+08:00

So there sat I, in my little corner of Orchard Library, sipping at a cup of sourish brown water aka Cinnamon Tea with Mango.

The numbers swam in front of me, and my breath began to leave my body, as Math choked the life out of it. The grip tightened around my throat, and 'twas the iron fist of boredom in a velvet glove of sleep.

Then suddenly!

*whizz-bang*

This group of secondary school girls parked their derrieres at the table next to mine, chatting excitedly about which JC they had been posted to. (At this point, several highly unflattering remarks were made about my dearest of the dear school, AJ. But that's for another time)

But imagine my utter amazement when they started talking about kissing each other!

Followed by holding hands.

And accepting/rejecting "offers" from other girls at school.

And being hugged to sleep by other girls, from school.

And lots of other things which I can't share since this is a public blog.

The funniest moment was when one girl looked around the VERY packed cafe and asked, sotto voce: I wonder if we're talking too loudly.

Evidently, it didn't matter whether they were or not, because soon my prying ears were regaled with juicy confessions eked out of each other.

Which just goes to show that school can clearly be more fun that most people perceive. Excitement, thy name be School.

On a sadder note, I left the library with only 2 pages to show for 2 hours work. Can't imagine why...

Christian Proof

2004-12-16T17:08:00.000+08:00

Disclaimer: I believe in God, I believe in belief without proof, I believe that religion is necessary to lead a happy, fulfilling life. The views here are reactions of a science-ordered mind against irrational statements

Why is it in an argument of Science vs Religion, it always boils down to two things?

On the side of Truth, Rationality and Proof: Science and its sidekick, Probability!

On the side of Faith, Hope and Rebirth: Religion and its soulmate, Design!

Which side do I believe in? A typically fence-sitting answer is both. Evolution: I believe in theistic evolution, namely evolution by natural selection as put forth by Darwin, but guided by the Hand of God. I can reconcile both my scientific beliefs and religious faith.

But knowing this, what I hate to see is the weakness of the religious point of view, the Christian/Islamic answer to the challenges science hurls at religion. Religious advocates talks about the improbability of things occuring. According to them, the probability of spontaneous evolution, a blind reductivism of organisms till we arrive at our present form, is so low as to be utterly impossible.

Newsflash: The odds of space debris from outside the solar system striking the earth are infinitesimal. But it happens nonetheless, primarily because the potential amount of space debris more than makes up for the small probability. What are the odds of being struck by lightning? Yet people still get hit by bolts of the stuff.

Don't talk about probability and use it as an excuse to justify your beliefs. The agnostic will take minute probabilities over divine design any day. Impossible, improbable things happen every day. Why not then?

I hate too the utterly arrogant, misguided, pompous, self-inflatory egotistical assertion that some people make, which goes something like this: Our wonderful, super-advanced modern science cannot discern the beginning of the universe, it cannot prove that the Big Bang occurred. If at this juncture in time we are as of yet unable to prove with science the veracity of something, it should be attributed to divine intervention. (Christianity and Science, pg 86)

Have they heard of the word 'hubris'?

What makes us think that our science is so advanced anyway? What standard do we judge our scientific progress and ability by? Can we say with any certainty that this is it, this is the apex to which our science can progress? Can we attest that if we can't answer it now, we'll never answer it?

One wonders what primitive Man must have thought, looking at his burning branch.

"I've got [fire]! This is it, this is the end! I can solve everything put to me, and if I can't, that means there's no answer! Because obviously I can't get anymore advanced than this."

I fully support my religion, but sometimes I despair at the vapidity of the arguments and defenses made in the name of it.

Why can't we take it on belief! On FAITH! Isn't that what Christianity is all about? Faith; belief without proof? Why do we lower ourselves to using vacuous arguments and circular logic and improbabilities and fossil inconsistencies to prove a point that cannot, BY DEFINITION be proved? When all that is required is for people to see, to understand that God is there, whether you like it or not? Any other effort is just an exercise in disproving scientific proof; it's kinda hard to come up with your own Christian proof, carbon-dated 33 A.D perhaps?

I feel that trying to convince others by using their language, the language of science, probabilities and technology, is at best futile. They know the limitations and potential of their trade. Let us deal with our specialized field; commiting ourselves not to convincing them to believe in God or Jesus but to believe in His teachings, something far more accessible. One will lead to the other.

Faith is the pillar by which our lives are built. I don't care if the Bible is wrong on some counts, I think it could VERY WELL BE WRONG! It was written by Man, it was translated by scholars, it was proof-read and edited by the Church. Let us be open-minded enough to concede that it may be wrong, that it may be fallible. It makes not one bit of difference. Does it corrupt the teachings in any way? The lessons that we ourselves draw from it? I trust that those who truly believe, will not shackle themselves to the literal meaning of every verse, word, intonation. If we find meaning in our lives by adhering blindly to words on paper, instead of proactively practising the spirit of the Book, then it is a sad day for Faith indeed.

Hypnopaedia?

2004-12-10T11:36:00.000+08:00

Aldous Huxley writes of a world where sleep-teaching is used to promote absolute stability and unwavering faith in certain platitudes.

The one I hate most? "More stitches, less riches".

One likes to imagine that such a thing could not come to pass in our enlightened, matured world. Our discerning and developed society could not possibly swallow this kind of jejune crap the way the World State's servile, unquestioning inhabitants do.

But the eye picks up what it does not want to see. Kind of like not thinking about pink elephants.

Observe:

A stitch in time saves nine
The early bird catches the worm

And the most galling one of all:

Money can't buy everything.

Proverbs and meaningless proscriptions of behaviour have been mouthed at us since the day we were born.

- 200 times a week from age 13 to 17 -

Society's beliefs, propaganda and self-assurances are imprinted on us, as surely as any catechism makes itself felt in that brave new world. Catchy, aren't they? The words have a certain beat, a certain rhythm and meter to it. Just the way society intended.

Who says money can't buy everything? Radical though this statement might be, it only sounds radical to our mufflered ears, shuttered by long sermons on the sanctity of love, how it transcends monetary matters, blah blah blah. Compound this with media propaganda, like those puerile movies about immaterial money (think Titanic). Any wonder why so many people find a love of money reprehensible? Why they deny their true nature, why they tell themselves that the love of money is the root of all evil?

We are thouroughly conditioned, through methods no less effective than hypnopaedia.

Maybe a World State isn't so far off after all. Already we the masses find it hard to question what, after thousands upon thousands of repetitions, has taken on the weight of utter, absolute truth.

Thank You

2004-12-09T12:44:00.000+08:00

Today I'm going to make a radical break from tradition and talk about my day.

My happy, happy day.

Today I woke up at the crack of dawn, about 8.30 after Yee Kiat called to remind me that I organized basketball at school. I conducted my usual ablutions, and off I went in search of basketball and many long-lost friends.

God, it was fun.

How long has it been since I saw Lawrence and Bernard, Lawrence acting as cute as ever! Babi Loi Adrian trying vainly to shoot 3 pointers but (Oh My GAWD) only getting in 1 out of 10!! Su, if you could see us now... Adrian, where would you place your face...

Andrew still plays well, perhaps even better than he did last time. Esmond and I acted as flowerpots again (sorry Es, but it's the bitter truth). Yee Kiat, the famous zero percent!! Lawrence will never ever ever let you forget that.

Ah...what I wouldn't give to have stupid 50 cent with us... Farid RazAli-G... BOSS... Ah Chong, and Shag will wear that idiotic armband, boasting away about three point fadeaway jumpers, while trying not to get his rimless broken for the 8th (9th?) time. Su, you'll be there mocking him after the 2nd airball. Kelvin will do his anjing bunga style, Jon will be shouting about Jordan Jordan Jordan and telling Su how shi bu bi xian yu di zi.

I never used to like basketball. Stupid game, thought I, right down there with football. But as a game that bonds, connects and relives memories, it has no equal.

Jeremy, I hear, practically went berserk the first game they had last week while I was away. Couldn't stop talking (but as usual complaining about food). Overwhelmed with nostalgia, happiness, memories of those bygone days?

I was too :)

Thank you for this wonderful day, a day when I laughed harder, louder and happier than I have ever laughed through the span of this ever-lasting, never-ending year. Thank you for this one day when I finally remembered who I used to be. Who we used to be.

Civilization

2004-11-30T11:05:00.000+08:00

What characterizes a civilization?

Is it our advanced weaponry?

Our knowledge of the world?

Our increased standards of living?

60 years ago, the world knew the horrors of Auschwitz, Birkenau, Sobibor, Treblinka. Inmates were weeded and pruned based on their infirmity, their political status, their behaviour in the camp. As one anecdote has it, men marching along in a column would feel the hand of death grip their shoulders, and just sit by the roadside, waiting for the SS officer to shoot them in the head. They welcomed it.

Czech Jews who escaped the gas chambers tried to inform the world. But no action was taken, and 5.1 million died. Presumably, the actions of self-preservation won in the battle of interests.

30 years ago, Bosnian Muslims were massacred by Serbs. In the town of Srebrenica, 7000 died.
No one would step in immediately, till the dying was well into its acute stages. The US, who had so valiantly rushed to the aid of the oil-owning Kuwaitis, decided that perhaps (just perhaps) we could afford to wait a bit regarding the non-oil-owning Bosnians.

10 years ago, Cambodia was ruled by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. Autogenocide was committed in the name of an egalitarian utopia. And ASEAN stood by, hiding behind some STUPID POLICY of non-interference while millions died. Inflexibility, incompetence, sheer and utter irresponsibility.

Today, the Janjaweed kill people in Sudan, the Burmese junta kills people in Burma, the Chinese military kills ethnic Muslims in the north, the US kills Iraqis, the Israelis kill Palestinians and the Palestinians kill Israelis. The Maoists kill Nepalese, the Thai government kills southern Muslims, the Russians kill Chechens and the Chechens kill children.

And the world stands by watching as people die. They can't even decide if murder of close to a million people in Sudan is genocide. Maybe they need gas chambers.

Today, I read a Newsweek story of aid workers in Haiti. The journalists have long since left; who's interested in hurricanes when Bush has been re-elected and Arafat is dead. But all this doesn't matter to the majority of the world. No matter who's in charge, their existence will still revolve around their next meal.

But by the time a young woman steps out of the food line, limping, my reservoir of compassion has run dry.
"Blesse," she says.
Wounded, I shrug, smile and turn away. And I don't sleep very well that night.

What characterizes a civilization? What characterizes human civilization? If it is to be our bombs and bullets, our reading and writing, our houses and homes, money and credit cards, phones and Internet, churches and mosques...then how different are we from Stone age communities who thought that owndership of fire and barter trade was the apex of humanity?

Civilization is judged not by these material aspects, but by the humanity we show; The unwillingness to abide suffering, the moral indignation and consequent action that the world must show when faced with unspeakable atrocities, the determination to help those who cannot help themselves.

But we see very little of that. We read about these events, we shake our heads while thanking God our lives are better, and the putrid stench of the world out there fades from our nostrils. Already I feel the anger and pity leave me with each word I type, as my mind tells me its not my problem, nice GP example, let's look for dinner. In 10 years time, will I be an aid worker on the fields of humanity's next disaster? Unlikely. Right now it's just me shouting my words into a vacuum of apathy and blindness.

Maybe apathy is a psychological defense: The human mind's only protection against the insistent and persistent cries of a world suffused with hatred, profiteering, greed, corruption, death, doom and destruction.

What will future generations think of our so-called civilization?

I Hate Computers

2004-11-29T20:56:00.000+08:00

So there I was, fiddling with my cute new pendrive in my laptop, after sticking it into one of St. Jo's STUPID LIBRARY COMPUTERS.

"Ooo! What's this new icon, right next to my Student Council folder?"

"Let's see what happens if I click on it!"

Oops.

AAARRRRGGGHHH my computer has been hijacked by god-knows-what! It's smart enough to close browser windows which include antivirus SEARCH TERMS! What more to say antivirus sites themselves!

IT CLOSES DOWN MY NORTON!

My god, thats like termites eating the bloody pest exterminator...

It's stopped me from installing games on it, prevented me from even accessing my taskbar, and crippled SpyBot.

Somewhere in the deepest pits of hell, there's a special lake of sulphur waiting for you, Mr. Virus Writer. Small bubbles of acrid gas break the blood-red surface gently. And you will be lowered into it head first, to the ghastly chorus of screaming souls and suffering sinners after being flayed alive by Bill Gates, your sodden flesh flensed from your bleached bones by whips of hellfire.

Just you wait.

Jonathan says I should format the ****ing laptop. (damn my self control is excellent today, look at that self-censorship) Zhuu Ming says he can't do nuts! My idols have failed me! Whence shall I lay my head?

Sim says use HijackThis. Uh-huh. Now all I need is about 2 years worth of computing courses to understand the report? Righto then, I'll just put the laptop on ice for the time being.

Jeremy...It's up to you now. Maybe formatting is really the last option...But urmm...your record to date hasn't inspired confidence :) (hope you never read my blog)

Scientific Discovery Heralds New Age of Mankind!

2004-11-29T15:13:00.000+08:00

Sigh...

Scientific Discovery Shocks Research Community

Kuching, MON - A new scientific discovery in the field of biometric growth has been termed "the greatest discovery since Man found fire".

Researchers have found, after intense scrutiny and countless experiments, that subspecies Lobenjaminus can indeed experience growth. For the layman, it means that he can actually grow taller!

Remarkable as it may seem, this challenges all known evidence and hypotheses to the contrary, established and institutionalized over a series of years by scientists claiming to be experts in the field of Lobenjaminus growth.

"You've grown so much taller!" One researcher was heard exulting in an Italian restaurant earlier tonight. "Every time I see you, you're even taller!" Was another frequently heard comment as the celebrations and jubilations carried on through the annual dinner gathering of growth experts.

What import does this hold for mankind? Presumably, it will open up a whole new field of thought to people, viz: Young people actually grow taller with time. Truly, on this epochal moment in history, this dawn of a new era, we are witness to an astounding discovery that will shape the destiny of human scientific research for generations to come.

Opportunity Cost

2004-11-22T23:32:00.000+08:00

I look back today on my days of youth and secondary school, and I wonder, what did I do?

I used to look back fondly upon those halcyon days of serenity. Each day was languid, passing by in an endless stream of band, friends, basketball, games, tuition...unmarked and unmarred by extra responsibilities that I took upon myself.

I wouldn't have wanted to accomplish more than I had to: My world seemed full enough, fulfilling enough.

My world was a small one; my sky a fixed one, my domain sheltered by a spreading roof of obliviousness and unconcern.

And I was happy.

But today, the apex of loss has been reached. I now fully understand my own opportunity cost, something which I've vaguely recognied since exposure to this community of giants in Singapore, but never fully grasped.

As I was surfing the Net, I bumped into a resume which caught my eye, because it had Cornell University in it. To cut a long story short, it was a lengthy resume spanning 50- plus items, of an ex-ASEAN scholar who was from Jit Sin. Student leader, Rafflesian debator, Olympian, MENSA member. But what stood out was the knowledge that he had known what he wanted, what he needed since secondary school. And he had gone for it.

I regret.

Maybe I could blame the school. I could theoretically cast aspersion upon good ol’ St. Jo, land of the free. You never pushed me or exposed me to the opportunities that schools in West Malaysia offer their students by the truckload. You never gave me chess classes, leadership training, seminar attendance, golf lessons. You never motivated me to go beyond what I could do. You didn't set up awards like Jit Sin does for outstanding students, something for us all to aim for. You didn't send us for enough competitions to boost our resumes and our egos, didn’t force us to learn different skills, didn't tell us about all the associations outside of school we could join, didn't even give us enrichment classes to prepare us for the time when we learnt that in a very big ocean, we're nothing more than small fish. Minute fish.

But that would be the easy way out.

Looking at what others of my age have achieved, I wonder: Given the same sort of oportunities, would I have taken it? Would I have shown the foresight to grasp the proffered hand and pulled myself to greater heights? Would I have been willing to make the necessary sacrifices for a future investment that was nebulous and indistinct?

The honest answer is no.

The saddest part of reflecting on this is knowing that, even if I had been given these myriad opportunities and various boosts that could have helped me now, that could have turned me into a leader among men and a champion among heroes, I would have shunned it in favour of my blithe and blissful ignorance.

I would have decided that in the game of life, I would not subject myself to the norms and constraints that others would put themselves through; I would not become part of the rat race, the seething mass that lives each day as though it were an eternity, going through the motions of self-improvement in the endless quest for a better future. I would have sagely (as it seemed then, of course) decided to take a philosophical view of things, that all is transient and ephemeral, and the memories I will treasure in the sunset of my life will not be the material achievements that I garnered, but the experiences that I have wrested from the iron grasp of Life. And wrest I did, trying to fill each day with vicarious pleasure. Carpe diem.

And now! To be regretful and remorseful of past errors, of Opportunity Cost! Too little, too late. For the river of time flows in one direction: The future. The dam is breached; the waters gush. And to make my small amends now, by trying to earn back what has been lost may be impossible. Is there yet hope in writing essays and trying to join what competitions I can source?

In a year, I will be applying to university. I will be shooting high. And I, I who have never foreseen the need to conform and to do as others do, will be going up against individuals who are part of MENSA, who have held a hundred and one posts in their schools, who have worked and volunteered at homes, who have received academic accolades and laurel wreaths till the weight of it must hang heavy on their much-honoured souls.

What chance have I? A tramp in the presence of kings?

Hope springs eternal; the audacity of hope, the defiance of dreams.

Thailand

2004-11-21T11:38:00.000+08:00

A few weeks ago, the restive south of Thailand erupted into violence, right on the heels of supposed Muslim insurgents rebelling in the predominantly Islamic communities there.

What caught my eye was the news about the 80-plus prisoners, some innocent and some perhaps not, who were condemned to a slow, suffocating death in the back of army trcks as they were hauled like so much rubbish of the streets of Thailand.

What grabbed my attention was the refusal of Thai PM Thaksin Shinawatra to acknowledge that just maybe, these deaths could be in part attributed to prisoner abuse by the police.

He released a satement, saying that the prisoners probably died of suffocation due to their weakened states (presumably after scuffling with the police and perhaps running away in innocence) He atributed these weakened states to fasting, of all things.

Perhaps these deaths were due to fasting-related deficiencies. All the more REASON that the blame must be shouldered by the government! Considering the fact that the police were deployed to halt the riot, army trucks were used in the transport, it is not too much to assume that the PM had prior knowledge of the actions about to be taken against the supposed militants. And if he can now look back and say, darn, they must have died because they were roughed up a bit while fasting, why didn’t he think of that then!

More importantly, why has no apology been forthcoming regarding this rather blatant example of police brutality?

This is reminiscent of the period in time when Thailand declared a war on drugs, and drug peddlers in the streets started dropping dead from gunshot wounds. Supposedly they were shot by their bosses in an effort to prevent them from spilling the beans. The government managed to convert these deaths into a seeling point on their side, saying that it proved how effective the war was, that the crime lords are getting anxious, nervous, paranoid.

Today, both the King and Queen have made appeals for peace. Thaksin himself has called for the making of paper doves to be air-dropped in the region. But hisory repeats itself in a land that was once renown for peace and independence.

Your single, sincere apology would go far further than 63 million paper doves.

Juniors, Thy Name Art Misery

2004-11-19T12:31:00.000+08:00

Before we know it, we're going to have juniors.

Little itty bitty kiddies, just like we were before Singapore robbed and raped us of our innocence.

They'll come into Oldham Hall oooh-ing and aaa-hing.

They'll gaze upon the pool, ACS canteen and the cute ornamental fountain gushing merrily in front of ACS.

They'll think: Wow! So this is what schools in Singapore are like!

They'll trundle into OH, beeping in and out using their new cards.

They'll ride on the oh-so-efficient MRT, jaunting off to Orchard and places unknown, full of the mystique and myriad miracles that this marvellous manifestation of orderliness has to proffer...

Then! We'll bring them to Anderson
Junior
College

Muahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha!

(to be continued after dinner)

Vegetation

2004-11-15T14:11:00.000+08:00

Vegetable: A kind of green thingy that makes its own food and doesn't move.

Why has Benjamin turned green?

Research has shown that after prolonged periods of non-exposure to sunlight, fresh air and the great big world out there, people turn green due to breakdown of melanin in the skin. Or, as common sense would have it, they simply become queasy after sleeping and eating too much, hence giving exodermis a chloroplastic tinge.

Can he make his own food?

He most certainly can! With the advent of the fantastic invention called Andrew's handphone, Benjamin now can apply pressure to certain focal points on the keypad, creating a direct link to Domino's Pizza, buy 1 get 1 free! Not only that, he is particularly proficient in the art of boiling water just so (gotta get the dissociation just right) and making Maggi noodles. Far better than boring photosynthesis (who wants to eat starch anyway...)

What about moving?

What about moving? Couch + Astro = Stationary.

Ah...vegetation.

Still missing you guys,
Ben.

Reminders to Certain People

2004-11-13T12:40:00.000+08:00

Jason Lim Yuen Hoe! Du Not Forget to tell Mrs Maggie Wong!

Jason Lim Yuen Hoe! Extra extra important: Du Not Forget to return the book to the library!

Hwang Shin Hung! Du Not Forget to e-mail from China! benlo86@gmail.com/benlo86@hotmail.com

Ang Zhuu Ming! Du Not Forget to safeguard my huge mounds of papers!

Ambarish Dash! Du Not Forget to look after my humongous Math file!

Jonathan Yeow! Du Not Forget to give the stuff to Mrs Leow!

Tata, have fun during the holidays!

Reflections on the Year

2004-11-13T11:39:00.000+08:00

It’s a bit early, I know. Barely has November arrived, but still, when memories call…

I lived

Much has changed. New friends, of which sometimes I cannot believe I have had the fortune to meet. People to look up to, to be inspired by. People to love and to hold, to cherish and to keep safe, to be with in need and in despair, to rely on and to lean upon, to share joy and divide grief, to break bread and drink wine, to confide and to listen to.

I have enjoyed competitions, debates, many of which I don’t deserve to be selected for. I have paid in my studies and received my due (bitter though it may have been at times). I have enjoyed my fair share in Seoul Garden with Wei Shan, Si Yun, Leonard, Jia Liang, Yong Chuen, Joan and gang. I have dined at Marina Bay, Café Cartel, Fish and Co, Marche. And it is worth mentioning, not for the quality of the food, nor for the price of admission, but for the company that made the driest bried and blandest water sweeter than anything else.

I have gone to Sentosa and frolicked in the sea with Ho Wai, Pei Xin, Xin Yee, Yi Lie, Clement, Hui Ling, Shan Khiun, Kao Yuan, Grace. I have seen the musical fountains with them, sung Lang Hua Yi Duo Duo and Qing Tian on the bus with them. I have gone to Kallang Theatre, to join Anusha, Gailene, Ho Wai, Gillian, and Chieh Ping in their debut performances. I have greeted them outside the theatre, resplendent in umbrellas and costumes, bedecked in bluish green wisps of cotton.

Unforgettable memories.

I died

I have sent friends off, seeing them for the last time. Jon Lee, saying goodbye outside New Creation as he left Singapore for good. I have seen off Pei Xin and the rest, knowing that next we meet will be under radically different circumstances, strained surroundings no longer buffered by shared experiences and thoughts.

I have crumbled in exams like a cheap cookie, leaving marks strewn in rubble and devastation of carelessness, laziness and arrogance. I have sacrificed life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for AB Camp, thinking in my naïve folly that I could steal the bait of recognition and yet evade the trap. I have hated others and self, beaten myself with twin clubs of envy and self-recrimination. And it has not been pleasant.

I have suffered for my sins and follies, paid for my mistake of choosing nebulous promises of perceived glory over all else. I have forked out blood, sweat and tears for wavering in my decision of extracurricular activities, and still the torture does not end. Still I am weighed down by burdens of resposibility and image, still I am besieged by doubt and irritation, still I cling to dignity and hope the impossible, that one day I will be set free, that I will be paroled for good behaviour. The audacity of hope.

I rise again on high

Yet the new year holds promise. Perhaps this is the break I need, to redirect my thoughts, reshape my personality and come out of the fires of Singapore stronger, more resilient, more resistant.

Like wet clay is baked by fire to form porcelain, so too shall my soul be crafted.

I lived
I died
I rise again on high
Hallelujah, for all time =)

Of Leaving and Losing

2004-11-12T07:34:00.000+08:00

So here I sit, in a lonely corner of the airport coffee shop.

Getting ready to leave for KL.

The dichotomy of leaving Singapore and going home that Shin Hung brought up is one I have never solved. All year long I wait and wait, for the one gleaming, glistening moment when I can break free of AJ, when I can say “stuff it” to homework and Council. I can go home.

But yet, at the same time, I leave much behind when I leave Singapore.

Some people don’t feel it, I guess. Or maybe they hide it well.

Jonathan can go home with a smile on his face and a song on his lips.

But for me, I go home to nothing. All have left, and what remains is a shell that accentuates the sharp feeling of loss that bites at me.

As I sat in the car, speeding away from my home of nearly a year, I think of everyone I’m leaving behind. People whom I’ve lived with for the past year, friends who have become as much a part of me as anyone could possibly be. And I leave now, knowing that I will not see them for months to come.

Some go to China, some to Australia, some to India, some to Port Dickson, Negeri Sembilan, Kuala Lumpur, Penang. How will we remain in contact? How will I live through 2 months of silence and comparative solitude?

Leaving Kuching was hard; knowing that I left behind much. But yet I knew that many would stay, at least for a month or two, befor slipping of to places far away. The slight, gradual loss of friends was tempered by the recognition of new ones.

But this is sudden, an abrupt severing of contact with my extended family.

Jason will blather on as normal, on his green bed while pretending to read up on Chem Olympiad. Lin Sien will do his math with Alex, half-naked in the confies of his ultra-clean room. Shin Hung will sit at his little laptop listening to multitudes of CD’s, while Jo will potter around reading and making Ice Milo.

And I will not be there to see it.

Alex will bumble around wondering when I will return his spoon in between math, and Ivan will (probably) be waiting for the next time Chapel or Church is on =) Eric will hop over to Chen Tao’s room, resplendent in filth and chicken bones, to play Warcraft.

And I will not be there to see it.

Foo will sit on Jon’s bed, irritating him like sand in a wound, while Jon whacks him with a pillow. Ambarish will play his guitar and continue eating huge amunts of bak kua. Zhuu Ming will still camp in front of his computer playing games, when not falling asleep without bathing (bleah) on his bed. Jonas will be squatting in my room to use the Net, and Ian will probably follow suit, trying to do Council work while simulatneously playing CM.

And I will not be there to see it.

What will I do? What can I do, now that I’ve based my life and daily activities for so long around these central people in my life? I don’t do much work; my time in the hostel is spent walking around other people’s rooms and telling them how much work I have, while making sure they don’t do any.

Will my dinners be lonely solitary affairs, my nights long and listless without Zhuu Ming and Foo’s gay boyband music playing on the speakers? Will my days stream away in an unending river of boredom, punctuated by the occasional friend meeting me, rare as such events are?

Likely.

Where now the horse and the rider,
Where is the horn that was blowing..
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

To all who read this, I will miss you all, every person, trait, characteristic (and bolster).

God bless,
Ben.

Random Bitching on American Activities

2004-09-01T02:15:00.000+08:00

I can't stand America any longer.

Democracy! Lets talk about that. America, land of the free, has taken it upon herself to spread the light of democracy to the world. For that, lets invade Iraq and set her people free. While we're at it, maybe we should put Chalabi in power. Never mind that he's totally out of touch with real Iraqi needs, eing in exile in Washington and all: He seems to be the man for the job. At the same time, lets interrogate those Abu Ghraib detainees and take pictures of their maltreatment so we can use them to intimidate other suspects! (Oh come on... Why else would they take such high resolution photos? To hang on their living room walls?) Why don't we make a mess of things and fiddle with al-Sadr at the same time? Stuck between trying to wipe him out and eagerly falling into his ploy of playing the conditional truce card, America has screwed itself into a hole over Najaf and the Imam Ali Shrine. Ah...the folly of not having a post-war plan.

Why why why is democracy regarded as such a great thing? Nobody disputes that we need freedom from fear, freedom from repression and oppression, freedom from corruption and so on. But does democracy really give that? Being in Singapore, I may not love it, but I have at least seen the flip side of things: Semi-authoritarianism works too. Democracy the American way only seems more screwed up as we near the elections: Candidates are nothing more than calculating, scheming bastards trying to worm their way into (or back, in some cases) the White House. I find it abhorrent that they can in good conscience analyse which section of voters matters the most, and then tailor their campaign accordingly. Sick of the big issues? Lets narrow it down to something the lowest common denominator can understand. Lets talk about school coupons! I want to bring my policy making down to a level where an person on the street can understand me and feel as though I'm taking a personal interest in their lives, though I really don't give a damn because when I'm President I'm gonna be eating Beluga caviar with Putin at the State Dinner. All I want is your vote, and I'll tailor my presidential pitch to get it.

Leadership. Is it called leadership if your key selling points are based on what your swing voters want? Is there no more persuasion by righteousness of vision anymore? Is moderacy the key to a country which is increasingly viewed as insular and totally ignorant of the outside world? This is the first election where foreign policy has become a key issue since the Cold War. Does patriotism and arguing over who served the country better really make a difference?! So what if Kerry threw away the damn medals and so what if Bush skipped National Service! Does it make any impact on the way they lead the country at all? And while we're at it, the mudslinging is despicable, though I side with the portrayal of Kerry as another mind-changing, gormless politician who blows with the wind.

On a related topic, Kerry actually started using religious phrases in speeches! 'Cathedrals of nature', my ass. Say you want the religious vote and quit beating round the Bush. At least Bush has always stuck by his firm proclamation of Catholicism. Kerry on the other hand, clearly hijacks it to gain equal footing on this ground and also to gain a certain moral equality with Bush.

What a world we live in, where the elections of this country can so captivate and capture the minds of normal people. And we wonder why American dominance is so complete. The answer? Because we make it so. Because the media hypes up all that goes on there (just read the write-up on the "war room" in Washington the Demos have set up to blast the Repubs' convention) Because we vicariously and voyeuristically watch the antics of the soon-to-be most powerful man on earth as he tries to squeeze and pinch every last vote. We give him legitimacy when he deserves none, none by the sheer strength of the fact that stupidity, foolishness and hypocrisy should be condemned at every turn.

Birthday Thoughts

2004-09-01T02:08:00.000+08:00

A year older, a year wiser.

One would think so, but sometimes I feel as though I haven't learnt anything since the last time I sat down and thought about life, the universe and everything on the eve of my birthday.

The 29th was spent preparing for my Physics test.

Well, there's still always the 30th, a time for reflection and remembrance.

But nope. Had to go to school.

Sigh...It's the first time in many years that I've so detested a birthday. Where are the days when I used to happily pop off to Cozee with the rest of the gang on my birthday? We never asked for much: Maybe a day of games, followed by a barbecue at home. Relaxing, enjoyable. I never liked barbecues much, nor entertaining people at home, but anything is better than this. This mugging in school till godforsaken hours, followed by endless tests and performance rehearsals.

Hot, muggy days are weather du jour nowadays. Miss the days of yore, always with a light breeze in our faces as we sallied forward in time.

Solitude and Epiphany

2004-08-21T15:00:00.000+08:00

Epiphany.

It came upon me suddenly, as I was sitting upon the ledge outside the Common Room.

The air was sweet, with the fresh aftertaste of rain carried in a light, clean breeze. The night was silent except for the soft murmuring of the television in the common room, and the sound of distant piano music somewhere below me. The only light was the muted fluorescence of the room lights.

The lights were switched off; I was in darkness.

And then, as I sat there with Chem notes in hand, I received my epiphany.

The pure contentment that comes from being alone, at peace and in solitude on a calm, chilly Friday night; nought but the glow of moonlight to accompany me and the sweet serenade of a piano in the distance.

It matters not that it's a Friday night, a night when fun and frenzy should be the word du jour. Priorities change, get used to it. It matters not that tomorrow I have a Chem test and Math to boot. I'm in AJ, when you're in hell you don't complain about the heat.

Nothing matters - not Council meetings, not time-wasting leadership workshops, not studies, not emotions, not people. All that matters is that for that one rare moment, sitting in solitude and darkness, I knew that everything in life is but a leaf on the river of time; ours will come and pass.

Live in the moment. Live for the moment.

The Guilt Of Sickness

2004-08-19T02:25:00.000+08:00

Ah, another sweet, sunny Wednesday morning. Made all the better by a lack of school. Sickness has confined me to my bed.

It's strange that so much more can be accomplished by staying home to rest, relax and revise instead of going to school, run around like headless chickens to different classes and end up all oily and dirty. It's a disgusting feeling.

But of course, nothing good in life comes easy. The risk factor involved today is huge. Should anyone note the rather disturbing trend of me falling sick on Wednesdays (surely its due to the strenuous PE the day before) week after week (hey, maybe it's Hungry Ghost Month), then I'll be invited to Mr. Tan's office to have a cup of coffee, as Jonas likes to put it.

What about the guilt factor? It's not nice to keep on skipping all these Council meetings that so sadly happen to be on Wednesdays. But attending them would mean added risk for me, unless I can susccessfully convince any teacher who sees me that I had morning sickness. Should I go for Council meeting today? I don't know... Damn... Hard choices are my fate.

Ah, the choices that belabour me. Honestly speaking though, I still hold fast to the belief that my 'sacrifice' of school these few Wednesdays will mean far more to me in the long run, than attending some lectures or tutorials, which kinda suck ass anyway. Till then, I suppose that the guilt is something I have to live with. At least I know that when the inevitable happens, I've already informed my parents of the situation

Wonder what everyone's doing now. Chocolate.

Halcyon Days

2004-08-12T11:11:00.000+08:00

Got to go back early today.

How does this merit a whole post? COnsider the fact that I'm in Singapore. Coming back when school ends on normal days is a rare luxury.

Walking home in the sweet, fresh air; Breathing the heady scent of freedom. Knowing that for this one halcyon day, I'm free from the strictures of Student's Council, of teachers and tutorials, of Yellow and Blue horror. Its almost as though i were back in St. Jo, going off early on those beautiful Wednesdays to 3rd Mile to play Warcraft.

Those days are gone forever. Times change, people change, circumstances change. I'll never again know the joy of finishing school with Andrew, Su, Jeremy and Jon, fulfilling the desire to go to cybercafes immediately after lunch. Those times have passed.

But in the path of life, new halcyon days will come. Even if they are over small, inconsequential things like coming home early on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the wind a light breeze and the sun shining down upon us, walking home with friends new and old, with nothing but the prospect of sweet sleep awaiting.

Life is what we make of it :)